#monkey brain won my friends
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The Library’s Keepers
@indigothemuse behold what happens when my one-braincell ass takes the librarians and smashes kotlc into that universe.
Fitz Vacker is the Librarian, sole protector of the world from magic. Wylie Endal is his Guardian, who would like it if Fitz would stop calling himself the sole protector of the world from magic. Dex is a hacker with a ticking time bomb in his head and a list of people who don’t deserve what they got. Xe’s a Librarian. Keefe is a man made of lies, a grifter and a thief with a past he’d rather not talk about, not until that past drags him into a world of magic. He’s a Librarian. Sophie Foster is a genius, math, science, literaure, you name it, he’s probably got it under her belt. She’s stuck in Oklahoma to no one’s fault but his own. She’s a Librarian.
It was the usual job. Catch a murderer that the cops didn’t feel like investigating, much better than the cheating cases Wylie usually got hired to do. The pay wasn’t too good for this one, but twenty dollars an hour would add up. Eventually.
Especially since he’s on hour seventy three. It would pay half the rent, so all he would need was another job.
Alice Cartoff was a Class A asshole who was keen on carrying around this stupid pendant. It looked like a gold coin, probably antique. Wylie might be able to pawn it for a nice amount if it wasn’t important to the case, which it didn’t look like it was. It was supposed to be a casual thing, get her to confess to him while being recorded and hand her over. What he didn’t account for was a floral-clad housewife to have a handgun.
And know how to use it. She hadn’t fired it yet—thank god, he knew who the cops would arrest—but had it pressed against his back. If he could turn around fast enough, he could knock it out of her hand. Or maybe a kick to her knee would work. He could throw an elbow back into her shoulder, that might even get her to drop the gun.
“It was flawless. There was no way anyone could figure it out, the only witness was Arthur!”
“Dead men tell tales if you listen long enough, sweetheart.” The gun digs deeper into Wylie’s back, not a good thing to say, apparently.
“And you’ve got a good ear, right? How’d you find out, Wylie. How’d you find out.” That’s a good enough confession for Wylie.
She’s expecting trouble from him and is looking for an excuse to shoot him. One bruise of her and she’s getting off scot free for another murder. He’ll have to talk his way out of this one. God he should’ve taken more lessons from that grifter in Boston, they could’ve gotten out of this in a snap.
“It was simple. Everyone had motive to kill Arthur, but no one skilled enough to leave no trace would kill him if they had a visible motive. According to everyone, you and Arthur got along swimmingly,” Wylie says. “You committed the perfect crime a bit too perfectly.”
She laughs. A door opens beside them. Wylie looks over to see something he definitely didn’t expect out of this. A young man in a green sweater vest, yellowing white button up, and black dress pants.
“What on earth are you doing here? Who are you,” Alice yells. Wylie almost flinches away from the sound, but figures any movement will end with him getting shot, and manages to stay still.
“I’m the Librarian,” he says with a crooked smile and a British accent. Something clouds over Alice’s face and Wylie takes his chance. He throws his elbow into her shoulder. The gun falls to the floor; Wylie kicks it away from her.
“Damn it!”
Wylie turns around quickly, ready to knock her out and be done with it. He’s greeting with a fist to his face—for a housewife, she’s got a good left.
“That looked like it hurt,” the Librarians winces.
“Because it did,” Wylie grumbles. He tries to throw another punch to Alice’s jaw, which she blocks. She is unnaturally good at this for someone who looks like she’d cry if she got tapped too hard. She kicks Wylie’s gut. He gets thrown back into a table—ow.
The Librarian winces again. His eyes catch something and light up. Wylie tries to sweep Alice’s feet out. She jumps over them and knees Wylie’s chin. A flash of white goes over his vision—not good. Wylie scrambles back before Alice can land another kick.
“Please keep her busy for me, restrained if you can!” The Librarian shouts.
“What do you think I’m trying to do, kid!”
“Keep it up then!” Wylie swings a fist towards her neck, a punch he’s thrown many times before. It lands, Alice stumbles back, gasping for breath.
“You dick,” Alice breathes. Wylie grabs a vase from the table he was thrown into and lunges for Alice. She tries to get away but he manages to hit her over the head with it. Alice crumbles to the floor. He reaches into his pocket at pulls out the tape recorder and turns it off.
“Well that would do it.”
Wylie had forgotten he was there, if he’s being honest. The Librarian finally leaves the doorframe he was standing in. He walks like one of the show choir kids Wylie went to school with, all bouncy like he’s got music playing in his head. Jolie was always like that. He plucks the gold coin from her neck.
“Thank you for your help—Wylie, isn’t it?”
“Hey, give me that coin, I have rent to play, kid.” The Librarian jumps back before Wylie can reach out for the coin. That thing must be worth at least a thousand, no need for another case.
“Afraid I can’t do that, Wylie. This thing is too powerful for anyone to have, let alone be pawned off to pay rent.”
“It’s a gold coin, kid.”
“I’m twenty-one, stop calling me kid. Gold is a good conductor, and gold this old? It’s a miracle there’s only one murder.”
“What the hell does that even mean?” Wylie grabs his phone from his pocket. He texts Technopath—the hacker from Portland—to send people to come get Alice. “If you don’t want me calling you kid, what’s your name?”
“Call me the Librarian. Though, seeing as I have to go, you won’t be addressing me after now.” The Librarian shoves the coin in his pocket. Wylie could still grab it, the thief from Georgia taught him well enough to pickpocket the kid. “I best be going now, see you never!”
“Hey wait—”
He waves goodbye before running out the door. Wylie sighs. He’d better leave before whoever Technopath called comes—its lead to a few too many awkward conversations when he hasn’t left in time.
He ties Alice up with a blanket before heading to his car.
…
“Getting weak, Cal!” Fitz calls to Excalibur. Excalibur responds by knocking the sword out of his hand with a move Fitz really should’ve seen coming. “Okay, don’t mock the magic sword, lesson learned.”
Excalibur shakes in a way Fitz has learned that’s laughter.
“Fitz, good to see you practicing,” Livvy says. “We have a guest.”
“What? A guest? You let someone in? That’s—oh it’s you.” Fitz sets his sword against the bookshelves. The PI from Caligula’s Coin is standing awkwardly next to Livvy. “What are you doing here? Livvy, what’s he doing here?”
“Mr Endal here is your Guardian, Fitz.”
Fitz laughs before realizing ce’s serious. “I don’t need a Guardian, send him home. I have something to work on and I don’t need a distraction, most certainly not a fool who almost got himself mixed in with magic! He tried to pawn Caligula’s Coin, Livvy! How is he invited to the Library? Impossible. Send him home.”
Fitz turns and heads for the Annex. Mrs Chebota’s murder won’t solve itself and Fitz cannot for the life of him figure out what that painting means. Or why she had it in the first place. Or how she got stabbed. Or why her ghost can’t communicate.
“Magic isn’t real!” Wylie calls. “And that coin had to cost thousands of dollars.”
“How is that what you’re focusing on? Go home, Wylie. You’re of no use to me, and as the Librarian, you’re of no use to the Library.”
“We both know that’s not how it works, Fitz,” Elwin says. Wylie—who seemed not to have noticed the fact there was a man in the mirror—pulls out a pocket knife. He almost drops it when he sees Elwin.
“Excuse me but what the fuck.”
“Hello, Guardian. I’m Elwin.” They smile warmly, Wylie walks up to the mirror and flips it to the back. “I do know this is a bit surprising, but please keep me upright. I get dizzy.” Wylie puts the mirror back.
“Sorry?” He stands there for a second, Fitz decides to ignore Wylie until he goes away and pulls the white board out from between bookshelves. “So magic is real? Like, you’re not pulling my leg here?”
Fitz sighs. “Yes, magic is real. Now will you go home?”
“I know Ms Sonden told me my job, but what is it again? This barely makes any sense to me. And what’s your name? If you have one.”
“My name is Elwin. As a Guardian, you will accompany the Librarian and keep him safe. No matter how much Fitz here thinks he doesn’t need help.”
Wylie turns around, a comeback on his tongue when he sees the whiteboard. Something makes him stop. He walks up to the whiteboard and takes Maruca’s photo off of it.
“Don’t touch that!”
“How did you get this photo? Have you been following me? What did you do to her?”
“I didn’t do anything. Someone killed her on our front steps. Why?”
“She’s—she’s my cousin. I don’t—how? How did she die? Was it fast?” Fitz softens.
“She was stabbed, she died quickly. But her ghost is here, she’s not completely gone.”
“I need to see her.”
“She can’t communicate with you.”
“Like hell she can’t. Take me to her.”
…
When she sees Wylie, Maruca panics. What is he doing here? This place is dangerous, he can’t be here. For gods sake, this place got her killed. Even if Wylie’s older, it’s not by enough. Immortals from the beginning of time aren't old enough to be safe in this place.
She tries to tell him that, but her mouth won’t move. Whatever that man did to her before she died, it was enough to keep her silent.
“Why can’t she talk, is that a ghost thing? We both know ASL, why can’t she use that?”
She notices Fitz in the room now. God, if she wasn’t friends with Biana, she’d strangle him for bringing Wylie here.
It was a spell. Fitan. Arthur’s Crown.
But neither of them know any of that.
…
“I don’t know how she knew about this place.” Fitz says. “She shouldn’t have, and she most definitely shouldn’t have known my name. There’s a spell that’s keeping her from communicating, but I can’t figure out which one it is and until I do, I can’t undo it.”
Wylie rifles through his pockets and pulls out a letter with gold script. One he thought was familiar, and for a good reason as it turns out.
“She got a letter. Three years ago, she got a letter just like this one. She told me how weird it was and that she wasn’t going to go all the way to New York for a letter. Maruca was going to work here.”
That’s when a strings finally connect. At least, theoretical strings for a very plausible theory. Fitz rushes up the stairs of the Annex, Wylie following behind him. Fitz rifles through bookshelf after bookshelf, only realizing once he grabs the Record Book he could’ve used the card catalog.
He flips until he sees his name.
“Search these names. Kenric Fathdon.”
“Died in a fire.”
“Calla, no recorded last name but a biologist.”
“Dead.”
“Ethan Benedict Wright II.”
“Dead.”
“Leto Kerlof.”
“Dead. What’s this about?”
“Someone’s killing Librarian candidates. Three years ago, the Library sent out hundreds of letters. It looks like only the top ten candidates.”
Wylie types in the last few names on the list.
“Three of them are still alive, at least to my knowledge. We have to go and get them. We’ll bring them back, they’ll be protected here, won’t they?”
“They will. I’ll take Sophie Foster, you get Dex Dizznee. We’ll get Keefe Sencen together. I’ve been needing to talk to him for a long while anyway.”
“Okay. It looks like Sophie lives at Havenfield Sanctuary. Can you handle finding Dex? I can find xem if you can’t.”
“Of course I can, I’m the Librarian. Now go, if I’m right, they don’t have long.”
…
Dex wasn’t a good thief. Xe had no idea why Biana thought xe was, or why ae had xem try and pickpocket the mark, but ae did. And now xe’s testing out xyr—horrible—grifting abilities. That was always Keefe’s job.
“I’m sorry sir, I thought you were a friend.” Xe really wished the mark would let go of xyr wrist.
“Do you pickpocket your friends?”
“Yes. It’s an inside joke.” Xe had no idea why Keefe wasn’t helping over comms. He was the only real grifter they had, and without a hitter, if xe couldn’t talk xemself out of this, a jail cell was likely. Dex hated jail cells. They were always so cold.
“An odd joke, boy. Care to explain it to me?” Shit. Dex was never the best liar, much to Biana and Keefe’s dismay. They could never teach xem how to cover xyr tells.
“Well—”
“Dex! There you are!” yells a person Dex has never met in xyr life. “Oh god, did you mistake someone for Carter again? I’m sorry sir, I keep trying to tell xem not to do it unless xe’s sure, but xe never listens.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m the Librarian.”
For some reason, that makes the mark falter long enough for Dex to get xyr wrist back. Xe tries to rub away the grubby feeling that man’s fingers left. Xe knows it’s going to bruise. Something xe’s not excited for.
“It’s best we go now, Dizznee. A bluff that bad won’t last long.”
“How the hell do you know my name?” Dex works hard to keep xyr name a mystery. Keefe and Biana only know his first name, everyone else just gets Technopath. An awfully bad name, but the triplets begged him to use it.
“For the same reason someone’s after you. Come with me or you’re going to die, Dizznee.”
“Tell them to get in line, they’re not special. I have a job to do.” The stranger is probably right though, xe should really leave before the mark thinks too hard about xyr lie. To xyr dismay, the stranger follows him into the street. God, xe’s going to have to shake him. Xe’s not exactly good at shaking a tail, not when xe’s failed every athletics check Biana’s given xem.
The stranger grabs Dex’s wrist. He lets Dex pull it back but his eyes tell Dex he won’t let xem the next time he has to chase after Dex.
“My name is Fitz Vacker. If you do not come with me, you are going to die. I can only protect you if you let me, so let me.”
Xe knows that name. But it can’t be. The chances are so low that they couldn’t even be calculated. Though, he does look a bit like Biana. Same blue eyes and same warm brown skin. It’s impossible, but xe knows that name.
Dex takes xyr comm out. “What is this about?”
“Three years ago you got a letter to join the Library. Someone is after you because of that letter, let me help you.”
“Gold lettering. It was slipped under my door, I thought it was a trap.”
“Will you come with me?”
“How good are the people coming after me?”
“Good enough to have killed seven other people. Skilled people. They can get you wherever you go unless you come with me.”
Dex crushes the comm under xyr feet. It can be tracked if someone tried hard enough and if these people are as good as Fitz says, they’ll try. Xe can come back for Keefe and Biana later, when xe has enough information to keep them safe along with xem.
“Only until they’re gone. Then I’m leaving.”
Fitz nods. “Is there any way anyone can track you with anything you have now.”
“Only by my comm—” xe motions to the crushed earpiece on the ground— “but I dealt with that. Let’s go. How are we getting out of here?”
Fitz pauses. “I’ll figure that out as we go.”
Dex pulls out his phone. “Where do we need to go?”
“New York.”
“Great, we have a plane to catch.”
…
“Come on Verdi, take it easy. I can’t feed ya until you calm down,” Sophie says. Edaline’s in town buying groceries and Grady’s at the school, so Sophie’s stuck trying to give Verdi her medicine. It’s like giving a cat medicine but worse. “Darlin’ please, this’ll clear you right up.”
Verdi neighs and backs up. Sophie takes that as permission to enter Verdi’s stall. The medicine was poured in the sugar cubes in Sophie’s hand. It’ll be easy to trick the horse into eating them, so long as Verdi doesn’t smell them before eating.
He holds out his hand to Verdi. For what has to be the first time, Verdi sniffs something before she eats it. And refuse to eat the sugar cubes.
“Fine, have a cold.”
“Let me try, Soph.” Sophie turns around quickly. Edaline and Grady shouldn’t be home anytime soon, and they aren’t. Instead, Wylie’s standing in the open barn door with a soft smile. Sophie would run to hug him if Verdi wouldn’t do the same. Never good to surprise a horse if she’s learned anything over the years.
“Wylie! When did you get in?”
“About an hour ago. Kind of last minute and I’ll have to leave again soon.” He takes the sugar cubes from Sophie and holds them out for Verdi. The traitor of a horse eats them. Sophie waves Wylie out of the stall and closes it behind them both. She leans against it, hands in her jeans front pockets.
“Why? What’s up?”
“Well, I have two plane tickets out of here and one hour until I gotta be at the airport. Two, you need to come with me.” Sophie pushes off the stall with his foot and walks out the barn door, Wylie following him out and closing the door behind him.
“I can’t leave here, Wylie, and I don’t know what you’d want me to leave for. If you need my help on a case, you shoulda just called.” Sophie pulls off her riding gloves. She’d planned to take Silveny out after Verdi, but if Wylie’s here, she’ll wait until he’s gone.
“Sophie, it's important. It’s—three years ago you got a letter.”
“You think I remember what was goin’ on three years ago?”
“Shut up and listen, Sophie. It had gold writing and it was slipped on your door. It was from the New York Public Library inviting you to work with them.” Sophie stops walking.
“How do you know about that?”
“I got the same letter. Now. Someone’s coming after you because of that letter. You’re not safe here, Sophie. You gotta come with me, now.”
“That’s ridiculous, Wylie. There ain't anything about me that anyone’d want me for. I can’t even get Verdi to take her medicine.”
“You’ve got to trust me here, Sophie. They already—”
A car pulling up the gravel driveway cuts Wylie off. Sophie sees him stiffen, trying to wave Sophie behind him. It’s ridiculous. Sophie can wrangle a bull with one pair of gloves and a rope, she can handle someone who’s probably just lost. Sophie starts to walk to the car. It looks pretty new.
Wylie grabs his wrist.
“Stop being stupid, Wylie.” She grabs her wrist back and walks to the drivers side of the car. He knocks on the window, the driver rolls it down. It’s a young man, black baseball cap with an eye on it pulled to cover most of his face. Wylie shifts, ready to move forward. Sophie throws him a look, telling him he better stay put.
“Are you Sophie Foster?”
“Sophie, step away—”
The young man smiles, Wylie’s panic saying very clearly, that this is Sophie Foster. The car door slams into Sophie’s gut. The young man springs out of the car and towards Sophie. Wylie tackles him to the ground.
“Sophie go! Get to the airport, I’ll meet you there.” Baseball Cap knees Wylie’s gut, pushing him off.
“Like hell I’m leaving you.”
She grabs a rope and ties a loop at the end. Wylie gets on his feet, Baseball Cap following him after. Wylie throws a kick that Baseball Cap dodges. Baseball Cap throws a kick that throws Wylie into the open front seat of the car. Baseball Cap drags him out by his feet, Wylie’s head hitting the car.
Sophie finishes the knot and twirls the rope over her head. He throws it forward, the loop wrapping around Baseball Caps waist. She yanks on it as hard as she can, sending Baseball Cap to the ground. Wylie’s up on his feet—swaying a bit—when Sophie gets over. He pulls the rope tight around Baseball Cap.
He kicks his legs around trying to get free from the rope. Wylie kicks his head hard enough to knock Baseball Cap out.
“How’d you do that?” Wylie pants. Sophie wraps Wylie’s arm over her shoulder, he puts his weight on her. He’ll be a bit wonky from that knock to the head for a while now. She leads Wylie to the other side of the car.
“Horses are ‘bout nine hundred pounds give or take. He was a walk in the park, Wyles.” She opens the door and deposits him in the passengers seat.
“Why am I in his car? Are you stealing his car?”
“Think of it as karma.”
Baseball Cap left his keys in the ignition. Apparently, even a skilled fighter can be stupid enough to make it so easy.
She peels out of the driveway as fast as the gravel will allow.
“So. You weren’t lyin’ when you said people would be after me, were ya, Wyles.” Sophie says. The panic started to set in. There are people after Sophie. People who were willing to come to the middle of bum-fuck Oklahoma to get her.
“I wasn’t. We need to get to the airport in town. It’s the small one. If you think you’re in the wrong place, you’re at the right place. I got a guy there.”
“You have a guy everywhere.”
“Part of the gig.”
“I’ll never understand your job.”
…
By the time the plane lands in New York, Wylie’s head has stopped swimming. He knows it’s going to take more to deal with a concussion, but that’s not something he has to worry about right now.
“So, where are we going?” Sophie asks. “I have to get back as soon as this is over, Grady and Edaline will be worried. I texted to tell them I was goin’ to be out of town for a while but still. I don’t want them worryin’.”
“The Library.”
“Do you know how little that narrows it down? I don’t know much about New York but I’ll bet it’s got more than one library.”
“The letter was inviting you to the New York Public Library, yeah?”
“What’s that got to do with this? And who was that? What the hell is going on and how did you get involved? How did I get involved? Photographic memory ain’t worth that much.”
“Because of what’s under that library. There’s another library under it, that’s the Library. It’s a place that holds magical artifacts.”
“That’s bullshit, Wylie, you knocked your head a bit too hard.”
“You’ll believe me when you see it.”
“Sure I will, Wyles.”
They’re silent until the plane lands, Sophie helping Wylie up and Wylie saying he doesn’t need her help. They’ve just gotten the door down the Fitz and someone Wylie assumes is Dex are running towards the plane.
“Move over! We have to go. Now!” He yells and he runs.
“Get the plane started again,” Wylie yells to the pilot. The engines start up, Sophie and Wylie getting back into their seats. Fitz and Dex make it onto the plane in just enough time, as it starts moving as soon as the plane starts up.
Something smacks the side of the plane. Hard. Everyone jumps except for Fitz.
“Well. Go to see you’ve got Sophie,” Fitz says, panting as his slips into his seat. He nods his head to Dex at his side. “I’ve got Dex.”
“I can see. Could you stop yelling?”
“Oh dear, you’ve gotten into another fight, haven’t you? You’ve got to stop doing that, Endal.”
“Pretty sure it’s my job, Librarian. Seriously, stop yelling, I’ve already got a headache.”
Fitz pulls something from his pocket. A glass vial of some green liquid. “You’re not a Guardian, Endal, it’s a mistake. Didn’t think the Library could make those, but here we are.” He hands Wylie the vial. “Drink that.”
Wylie raises his eyebrow. “…what is it? If that coin was bad too and magic, this can’t be much better.”
“Bathsheba’s Healing Oil. Only affects you if you drink too much, and that’s only if you call immortality a downside. I would, so do restrain yourself, Endal.” He turns to Sophie and holds out a hand. “Fitz Vacker, the Librarian. Nice to meet you, I’ll be keeping you alive for the next however long. Probably a few days. Maybe more. Always a bit iffy with this sort of thing though I don’t have much expirence with this sort of thing.”
Wylie downs the vial, his headache going away instantly along with the other bruises and aches he’s had since Alice Cartoff. He’ll have to keep this stuff on hand.
“That’s real reassuring, darlin’,” Sophie says, not at all reassured.
“I second that,” Dex chimes in. Xe turns to Wylie, who xe’s apparently deemed more reliable. “Does he have any actual way of protecting us, or did I come here on a bluff. Because if so, I’d very much like to head back to Portland. I was kind of doing something.”
“Oh, I do have to tell the pilot we’re headed to Portland. Be right back.”
“Then why’d we even come here!”
“The spell I used to track Mr Sencen only just worked once we got to New York.”
“Wait, say that again for me.”
But Fitz has already bounced to the pilots cabin to tell him. Wylie sighs. He can tell this is going to be a pattern with him.
“You know, he says that name like he knows it. Do ya think he knows this Sencen, Wyles?” Sophie shifts in his seat.
“Yeah, I do. I also think he isn’t the only one. Dex?”
Dex looks uncomfortable. Xe looks like xe’s going over how to answer this, a look Wylie’s seen a fair amount of times. Like xe’s weighing how bad a lie would end up for xem. Wylie almost thinks to tell xem he’d rather not deal with a lie right now.
“He’s an associate. We’ve, er, worked together before.” If possible, Dex looks even more uncomfortable. Wylie decides to try and ease that, if only for a little bit.
“So, what do you do for a living, Dex?”
Xe gains a wary look. “I work in technology. What about the both of you? I mean, I could find out but small talk, you know? Figured it’s better to ask and I should stop talking.”
“I work at an animal sanctuary, especially with the horses. Wylie here is a private eye.”
“Oh thank fuck,” Dex breathes. Xe visibly deflates into a more comfortable posture. “It was either that or a cop.”
“Why would you be worried about that?”
“Yeah, so, the technology I deal in is of the ‘defraud the rich and please god don’t tell the cops’ variant. I mean, I can get out of a jail cell but I am not good at it. I’m no thief. Well, I’m a thief but not that type of thief. Not my job.”
“The day I turn in an honest thief is the day I turn in one of my best helping hands.” Wylie laughs. “Technopath is the one keeping my business afloat. Was. I guess. Do I still work as a PI if I’m with the Library?”
“Yes, because you don’t work with the Library, Endal,” Fitz says, sitting next to Wylie. “Could I have the Oil, please?” Wylie hands it over. “Thank you.”
“Fitz, when we get Keefe, let me take the lead,” Dex says. “Even if he won’t follow you—which honestly, he probably will—he’ll listen to me.”
“And why is that, Dizznee? Sencen is my problem to deal with, not yours.”
“And Keefe’s my friend.” Dex falters before the word friend.
“I’m the Librarian, Dizznee, it’d be best to listen to me. I don’t need to protect you. I’ve done this by choice, and it’s a choice I can take back.”
“I’m fucking Technopath, Wonderboy, I don’t need your protection. I can get someone else just fine. I’d even bet Wylie here would rather go with me than you, seeing as I’m the one keeping his damn business afloat. Show some respect. I got the letter, same as you, you’re just lucky I didn’t show up, Librarian.”
Wylie can see Fitz’s temper—which must be short as all hell—start to flare.
“Dex is right, Fitz. If they work together, xe’s probably our best bet at getting Keefe to safety. And yes, we do have to protect these three, because as much as you hate it, I’m your Guardian. You don’t have a choice. If you have a problem with that, I really don’t care.”
“It’s not my job—”
“Like hell it isn’t! Your job is to protect people from artifacts or people using them, these people need protection. If you don’t do your job, I’ll do it for you.”
Fitz doesn’t calm down, but restrains himself.
“Fine. Dex, you take the lead with Sencen. I’m going to sit with the pilot.”
Wylie nods. Once Fitz is gone, Wylie turns to Dex with a smile.
“So, you’re Technopath?” Dex laughs nervously and scratches xyr neck. Sophie leans forward.
“What the hell are y’all talkin’ about?”
…
The last thing Fitz expected when Dex got Keefe on the plane, was for Keefe to throw Fitz a smile like nothing was wrong. Like they were just the stupid seventeen year olds drunk on summer nights and playing truth or dare. Fitz remembers that night like it was a thousand years ago, the next morning like it was yesterday.
Biana had been gone. Keefe didn’t pick up his phone when Fitz called. He spent a year panicking, waiting for them to come home. The next, his letter had come. Gold script that wrote itself as he read, inviting him to New York Public Library. To, as Elwin put it, a life of danger and glory. A life of happiness and heartbreak and protecting the world.
Fitz hasn’t been sure on spending his life for others, but he hadn’t wanted to go home.
“What’s going on here anyway. I get we’re in danger, but from what? People to scared to tell me they’re after me. The chase is no fun if you don’t know you’re running, yeah, Dex?” Keefe laughs, tossing an arm around xyr shoulders. Xe rolls xyr eyes but doesn’t pull away. Fitz pointedly ignores it. Keefe still sounds the same, narcissistic air to his voice, though Fitz knows half the time it’s faked. Same Australian accent he’s had since he moved in second grade.
He never wanted to learn an American one, neither did Fitz. Biana would always laugh about how stupid they both sounded.
“You and I have very different ideas of fun, Keefe.”
“You can’t tell me you don’t like the thrill of the chase. The danger of getting caught is what makes it fun. If it’s easy, it’s boring.”
“Not when they might actually getcha,” Sophie chimes in.
“They’re called the Neverseen,” Fitz says. He ignores Wylie’s scoff. “They want to use the magic of the Library for themselves.”
“Magic? I think you’ve lost your mind, Fitzy,” Keefe laughs. Fitz doesn’t have time for his jokes. He pulls the penknife from his jacket pocket and slices open the palm of his hand. Everyone yells some form of “oh my god, what the fuck”. Fitz doesn’t bother listening to their outrage, he just uncorks the vial of Bathsheba’s Healing Oil and swig. His hand heals instantly, holding it up for everyone on the plane to see.
Wylie’s face reads of “oh yeah, he has that” and “oh thank god, he has that”.
Everyone else is going rapidly through the five stages of grief, never really landing on acceptance. Fitz sighs.
“I know I sound bonkers, I thought this all was crazy when I first got my letter. But a script that color of gold doesn’t write itself, trust me, I checked. Magic is real, and I’m not crazy.”
“At least not in that respect, right?” Keefe says. Fitz pushes down the anger bubbling up. It’s going to be fine, they’ll all be gone as soon as he’s dealt with the Neverseen.
“Trust me. Follow me to the Library and I can show you a world full of misery and joy. Magic and reality intersecting in the weirdest, most beautiful ways. I can’t promise you a long time. I’m offering protection until what you need protecting from is gone and dealt with. Believe me or don’t, trust me, or don’t. But follow me, and learn to.”
They’re all quiet for a while then.
“Sounds like one hell of a deal,” Sophie says.
“Oh, believe me, Foster, it’s the best deal you’ll ever get.”
#monkey brain won my friends#librarians#kotlc#keefex#keefitz (eventually)#keefe x dex x fitz (eventually)#sophie foster with a southern accent >>>#(writing this made me realize how close i was to having a southern accent)#sophie foster#biana vacker#wylie endal#maruca chebota#god i can’t wait to put fitz in a time loop#*me creating this*#*cherry picks all my favorite episodes. hell to order*
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PM already sent for smut authorization! The Bad Thing - Arctic Monkeys with Kim "NOT a Good Boy" Taehyung. <33
ayyyyyyyy! one of my favorite bands! this might be the smut fic of mine that i like most??? who am i……
listen here
cw: SMUT — 18+ so minors must avert their eyes! married!reader strays from her god-awful husband, public (restroom) sex, v fingering, p in v penetration, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, implied continuing affair, not fully proofread yet lol
(3/4/23) A follow-up, full-length one-shot is available here once you read this!
do the bad thing / take off your wedding ring / but it won’t make it that much easier / it might make it worse
Taehyung hates these firm dinners.
His boss is an asshole with bad taste in restaurants; and the majority of his team is full of retired frat stars who peaked in college. They drink too much, they get loud, and then they get rude to the waitstaff. The worst of them was sat two seats away, guffawing from his spot at the head of the table: Park Ji-won.
Taehyung doesn’t mean to stare, but he can’t help it. Fork clenched a little too tightly in his right hand, he can neither pretend the food in front of him is edible nor peel his narrowed eyes off Ji-won.
That sanctimonious fuck was on his fourth shot of whiskey, ogling any waitress that passed by, and spewing tasteless jokes. Taehyung used to push back in these moments, but he stopped trying because it seemed to hurt more than it helped.
The only person more mortified by Ji-won’s actions — who would be further humiliated by additional attention drawn to them — occupied the space between him and Taehyung: his wife.
Taehyung has spent the past two years wondering if you hate your husband as much as he does. Truth be told, likely more so.
You were supportive. You came with your shithead spouse to all his important work events and you looked perfect at every one of them. To top it all off, you were an incredible conversationalist — successful in your own right, sharp as a tack, and all smiles despite the mouth-breathing troglodyte at your side.
Until he’d start acting like this, that is.
Jaw-dropping as you were, the only one present not paying attention to you was the one who vowed to do so. Publicly, and in front of all your friends and family — in sickness and in health, as long as the two of you live.
And Taehyung can’t fucking stand to watch him ignore you.
You’re not eating, he notices, just sitting quietly with your eyes and head lowered. Maybe you finally look as neglected as you feel. Or maybe, like him, you get through your husband’s antics by imagining you’re elsewhere.
Somewhere exciting.
Taehyung, for example, imagines you staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror while he fucks you from behind.
“— and then I told her, if you really wanted my business, you should’ve dressed like it. This stupid bitch showed up in a turtleneck like there’s a brain somewhere above those tits!”
You flinch at your husband’s words, then at his laugh, then at the high-five he exchanges with his boss. God, you poor fucking thing — cheeks burning with embarrassment, eyes flicking over to Taehyung to communicate an apology you shouldn’t have to make.
You don’t flinch, however, when Taehyung’s right hand bumps against the side of your left thigh as he pulls it off the table.
Your little black dress is tasteful when you’re standing, but it rode up when you sat down earlier. His knuckles brushed against your bare skin when he retracted his hand and he saw the way it made you hold your breath. He sees the way you keep glancing at him and the way you’re pretending not to.
So, Taehyung gambles.
With how closely everyone is packed at the table, no one’s the wiser when he slowly extends his arm in your direction. Millimeter by millimeter, his hand hovers closer until he’s able to run the knuckle of his index finger over that same bit of flesh.
Not an accident, but calculated. Subtle, too, and soft as a whisper. You clench your thigh reflexively, but you don’t move away. If anything, your leg shifts closer.
So, you did feel it — and you liked it.
Taehyung is emboldened; his rapidly beating heart has blood pumping through his veins, down down down instead of up. Certainly not to his brain, the one thing that could’ve stopped him from sliding his hand overtop of yours.
From pinching that gaudy wedding ring between his thumb and middle finger, and slipping it off to claim in the palm of his hand.
You don’t stop him when he pulls his hand back and stuffs it into the pocket of his slacks. You do follow him with your eyes as he stands up, pushes in his chair, and excuses himself.
One quick glance over his shoulder tells him you’re still watching as he walks towards the hallway ahead.
When he dips out of view, he keeps walking until he reaches the single, gender-neutral bathroom at the very end of the hall. Unlike the gendered bathrooms on either side, this one has no stalls — less risk of interruption.
Even better, the speaker spilling soft jazz into the restaurant is built into the ceiling, directly above its door — less risk of being overheard.
He ducks inside, shuts the door behind him, and crosses to the counter. Once he reaches it, he turns and leans against it with his gaze zeroed in on the door in front of him. He doesn’t know for certain that you’ll follow, but he hopes to god that you do.
After a few minutes, there’s a soft knock at the door.
He doesn’t say a word in response, opting to wait with his arms crossed over his chest. He tilts his head to the side as the door opens slowly. Warm all over, he smiles to himself when he sees the pointed toe of your black stiletto through the widening crack.
Then you appear, looking good enough to eat. There’s conflict in your expression, but your body language doesn’t convey the same sense of doubt. The steps you continue to take toward him are purposeful. When you finally close the distance, he can see it clear as day:
You want this and you feel awful for that, but you can’t stop yourself. Taehyung won’t be the one to try.
“I’ve never received a proposition in the form of grand theft,” you words tease, but your tone is the shyest he’s ever heard it. Oh, you angel. “Are you always this forward?”
He scoffs and tells you the truth, “Absolutely not.”
Never in his life had Taehyung pictured himself being so reckless as to make a pass at someone’s wife while they’re seated right next to her. But, then again, he’s never seen someone sit next to their wife and fail to give a shit that she’s there. Time after time after time.
You shift your weight from one foot to the other. So fucking cute when you’re shy. You decide to be reckless too and quirk an eyebrow, “Then, what? You’ve decided that I’m special?”
Taehyung feels the heat radiating off your body with how closely you stand to him. He leans forward, lowering his head as he towers over you and whispers, “No, I didn’t.”
Your eyes are locked on his when they narrow. Your red-tinted lips form a pout that he wants to kiss right off your face; and you part them to speak.
“You did,” he answers before you can ask. It surprises you, judging by the way you blink in response, but it shouldn’t.
So, Taehyung puts his hands on your waist and silently instructs you to switch places. As soon as he’s got you in front of the mirror, he spins you around so that your back is pressed against his chest. You gasp, but he’s not sure if it’s the movement that shocks you, or the pressure of his hardening cock against your ass.
Through the mirror, your puzzled eyes regard him carefully. He looks down, only for a moment, to watch the way your chest heaves with the weight of your breathing. When his eyes drift back up to yours, he drops one hand to pinch the hem of your dress between his fingers.
“You’re not special because someone looked at you and decided you were.” His voice is low as his lips hover near the satin skin of your neck. You’re vibrating in his arms when he begins to tug the bottom of your dress upwards. “He never looks at you and you’re still this fucking perfect.”
With the fabric pulled up high enough, his hand falls slowly down towards your core. He can nearly feel your heartbeat with his mouth so close to your pulse point; but he doesn’t kiss you there.
Not yet.
If he had, he would have missed the desire washing over your face when his fingers nimbly pull the lace of your thong to the side. All he can do is behold that whimpering mouth as he slides his finger through your slicked folds; and makes contact with your touch-starved clit.
“What I don’t understand,” Taehyung starts with a murmur. You gasp as his fingertip swirls against you, but you still look straight ahead at his reflection through fluttering lids. “Is how anyone could stand to look anywhere else.”
God, you’re so fucking wet.
You moan so softly, it sounds like a sigh. It’s all he can think about, and he has to ask:
“When was the last time you were touched like this?”
His finger glides from your clit slowly, relishing your arousal as he approaches your entrance. Whether consciously or not, your hips swivel slightly against his pelvis.
A girl like you should never have to beg.
His middle finger penetrates you and your breath catches in your throat. When it finally slips through your parted lips, that mewl is the prettiest fucking sound he’s ever heard.
“Like you deserve to be touched.”
His palm is drenched in your wet heat as you grind against his hand. Your reservations leave you when the pad of his finger finds that neglected spot behind your pubic bone. You bite down on your plush bottom lip and swirl your hips in tandem with his ministrations.
He leaves a chaste kiss on your neck without taking his eyes off of you. You unravel in his arms, fluttering around his finger as your orgasm overtakes you. Biting harder on your lip to muffle your moans, your manicured fingernails dig into his arm as it holds you tight against him.
“You shouldn’t have to silence yourself for other people,” he mutters against your skin before he kisses you again. Then, his tongue leaves a wet stripe over the same area. “Or shrink yourself to make anyone else feel taller.”
Your voice is raspy when you finally speak, but despite the hushed tone, there’s no ignoring your demand:
“Fuck me, Taehyung.”
Taehyung removes his hands from you just long enough to wrestle with his belt. He jerks down his slacks and boxer briefs, all in one urgent move. You lean forward against the counter; your perfect cunt glistening, begging him to sheath himself inside of you.
The sound you make as he fills you is just as heavenly as it is obscene.
He clenches his jaw as he bottoms out, but he manages to grunt, “Shit — what kind man wastes pussy like this? You’re squeezing me so fucking tight.”
It’s an unconscious decision — something primal, instinctive — to hold your arms behind your back, pinning them with his own against his chest. You whimper at the change in angle. Now, his cock drags over your g-spot with every thrust as he fucks himself into you.
“How could anyone leave a bed that they get to share with you?” He purrs with his mouth at your ear, and you keen, “I’d never leave the house again. Fuck!”
You whimper until he rolls his hips at a more feverish pace. Notably, you don’t silence yourself when you orgasm a second time. It’s music to his ears, hearing that uninhibited moaning as he fucks you through your high.
And that face!
Your eyelids shut so delicately despite how completely your orgasm consumes you — still so beautiful, even with the mess he’s making of you.
How can a person fall asleep next to you, wake up next to you, and not see you? He can’t fathom it — how someone could ignore the soft angles of your features and the ethereal glow of your skin. This is the face that could launch a thousand ships; and he’d volunteer to go down on any one of them just to see you like this.
“Holy s-shit,” you hiccup as he continues to drive himself into you, “Don’t ever stop fucking me. Fuck — Taehyung, you’re going to make me come again —“
The third time hits you the hardest.
Your back arches away from him and your head falls against his shoulder; you’re shaking. But he doesn’t stop, not when he follows you off the cliff, not while he releases inside of you — not until your cunt milks every last drop from his twitching cock.
The two of you are silent for the few minutes it takes both of your souls to return to your bodies. It’s just panted breaths, the rustling of clothes. You shimmy your dress back down to hide the evidence; he locks himself away behind a zipper.
When you’re both presentable again, you turn around to find him reaching in his pocket. Taehyung swears there’s disappointment stowed away in your eyes, but he doesn’t know what to do with it. His fingers finally find that gaudy, broken promise — but your hand on his forearm stops him before he can fish it out.
“Hold onto it for now.”
Your eyes are wide as if you also can’t believe what you just said. There’s a spark in them as they flit from your grasp to his face. The tiniest upward twitch at the corner of your mouth when you follow up with:
“It’ll be my reason to swing by yours later tonight. Ji-won won’t notice its absence — or mine.”
(3/4/23) What happens next...
#jade’s requests#jade’s drabbles#1k drabblepalooza#taehyung drabble#bts#bts army#bts v#bts drabble#bts smut#bts imagine#bts scenarios#bts kim taehyung#bts taehyung#kim taehyung#kth#taehyung smut#taehyung x you#taehyung x y/n#taehyung x reader#taehyung imagine#taehyung scenarios#v x you#v x reader#v x y/n#v smut#v drabble#v imagine#v scenarios#kim taehyung smut#anon
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(Part 5, previous)
I end up in the cafeteria, staring at nothing. Mastication is the first step of eating. After getting food. After bringing it to your mouth. After the food has leapt into your hands, you can bring it up to your teeth full of cracks and holes, and you can fill them with pulverized chicken and rice and assorted steamed vegetables. And you swallow. And you’ll do this until you die, whether that’s in three, five weeks, or when you’re seventy-eight. Four days or so, if you don’t drink water. I wonder if Tyler has water, locked in the cage of my mind. I wonder if hallucinations need food, or if there’s some other sort of nourishment he needs. That I haven’t been managing to give him. I know he’d like to chew.
Maybe Tyler was onto something, walking around feeling like a bigger dick than God himself.
That night, I sleep like the dead, and I dream of it, too. The movie set of Paper Street yawns above us. I’ve got Tyler in my hands, his hair tight between my fingers as I fuck his throat. I’m curled over him. I’m giving something up. I’m more powerful than I’ve ever been. Tyler Durden has tears in his eyes and my cock in his mouth, and he’s not biting down. Not yet. There’s a heat to the world, and maybe it’s not ever. I feel drunk. He’s quiet.
We’re at fight club, a crowd of howling monkeys around us, and I won. Tyler’s on the ground, looking at me with pride over his shoulder. I’m pulling him apart and sinking inside. I’m fucking my best friend into the concrete. He’s not making a sound.
We’re in my cubicle. I have a large knife, and I’m gutting Tyler like a fish. And I’m burying my dick in him, and he smiles at me. His intestines writhe as I pull on them, hauling his body to me with each thrust. They want back in. I want back in. He’s warm to the core and cooling.
On top of the Parker-Morris building, I’m fucking a hole through Tyler’s shaved head. A cock is your gun, your gun is a cock, an explosion in one direction and I’ve blown mine though his skull. Pulling the trigger, over and over and over. His brain droops out of the hole. Twitching as cum and blood oozes out. Little bits of bone stick to his fried neutered testicle scalp. Rocky mountain oysters. I can see the head of my cock poking out when I fuck in. Out. In. His eyes are empty on me as I move my hands from his jaw to his temples and dig my fingers in. His brain is like plush velvet. It’s better than his throat. Better than his ass. Better than his guts.
Tyler could not cut a hole in himself better than the one I made for him.
I wake up with a rash on my dick from the pillow jammed under my crotch. They don’t bother with high thread counts, here. Might as well be steel wool.
I eat.
I take my pills.
I’m led to the visitation room.
Marla calls me, her voice floats to me through the aether to come out tinny on the telephone.
“Have you heard from Tyler recently?”
Out of the grave enough for speech and she already wants to butt back in.
I want to tell her, I don’t have any words for her. No messages. I’m sorry. My jaw could have rotted off, for all the use it is, and I stay silent.
“I found this new support group. You’d like it. Tyler could be your boyfriend.”
I’m the only one who’s left. Only Marla and I would know the truth if I smeared it like that.
I want to tell her that I hope she’s having a good time, in the real afterlife. That she’s not stuck some place like I was. I don’t want to ask about it. I don’t think we’ll be going to the same place. Marla might not be a good person, but I’m worse.
Regret and remorse don’t mean shit when you can barely even feel them. It’s cruel, how I’m keeping her ghost around. I was haunting her until death and I can’t even stop after.
#fight club#my writing#se7en#se7en (1995)#a little shorter but making headway#i feel like this has to be a strange read getting it all distantly from each other. it tempts me to rush it but finishing it early would be#super lame. oh also my first day went gr8!#anyway this fic keeps getting longer....#i cant wait to share some of my own thoughts on this too once its done#ive got my own idea of things of course. i love hearing others tho so i cant share until its all done...
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Ok hear me out Yandere redson and Mei poly /team up hcs please 🙏who both fallen for macaque female apprentice ~
Mei fights her seeing as macaque fighting monkey king , which leads to MK fighting her future darling it was only when reader makes shadow clones to trap MK , that’s when Mei gets involved.
It would have been fine if the reader didn’t have such a flirty attitude, who likes to praise Mei even when Mei sword was near her throat.
Before Mei could do anything , reader disappeared into the shadow realm
For Red son , I can see him teaming up with her since MK is there enemy , with his brain and her brawn , MK and his friends will be finished in no time . (Reader teamed up with his , for sine reason her mentor disappeared and she thinking rid of MK and his friends will make him praise her )
He did not expect reader to be so smooth and honestly praises his inventions even saying he’s amazing .
There were so close yet MK still won , Red son thought she was gonna leave him only for her to teleport him and her to her hideout to heal his wounds before sending him back home ,not before giving him a flirty remark .
After that an obsession grow for Red son
While Mei she gains a guilty crush that got worse when reader decide to keep her company since MK been busy Lately, She knows she should hate it but she been feeling lonely and when reader not being flirty she can be nice even winning Mei a dragon plushie at a fair .
What made her snap was realising Red son fallen for her darling , but seeing how there got along greatly if there difference aside , there decided to team up to make reader theirs .
My dude —deep inhale of air— would it be alright if I made this into like a two possibly three shot series?
I love the idea and I've been brainstorming tons of ideas for this one and in each scenario I'm like damn this idea is so good. I really want to do it justice so I need to have multiple chapters. Ya know? To build the tension and really get a feel of the mindsets and what not.
However—
(SORRY THIS TURNS INTO A LITTLE AUTHOR'S NOTE)
As you guys are aware I have to seriously start working on this future Yan Raph fic of mine... . It's Ironic but, I reeaally want to start writing the future yan Mikey part. Mostly because I basically have that one planned out in my head. Meanwhile I got like five different possible scenarios for the Raph fic that I can't decide on. Though a few months ago I had said I was gonna do the Raph one first so to keep my word I plan to do so.
However SOMEBODY (an anon) had requested a future Yan Michelangelo fic and I'm like brooooo were you reading my thoughts? Cause they were somewhat close to what I had in mind but not quite. But the point is I need to write the Raph fic soooonn!!!
Gotta appease the masses~✨
Though guys I'm a bad Trashlama. I keep brainstorming all these awesome plots that I totally want to write— which ironically were formulated when I was brainstorming for the Raph fic.
Soooo I'm gonna do a poll so I can force my procrastinating/ADHD ass to write at least some of these.
And guys btw I'm sorry again for taking so long. I've been caught up recently with finishing a lot of other things I had been procrastinating. -Cough- Hogwarts Legacy -Cough- Spider-Man Across the Spider-verse -Cough- Adult responsibilities -Cough- -Cough-!!!
Anyways thank you guys again for sticking around to the end. I'll have that poll out soon(probably today).
HERE'S THE POLL
In the mean time here's some memes!
Sorry this is long↓ I don't own these memes. I've never claimed to do so. I just come across them on Pinterest when I'm on break at work and think they're funny so I like to share them. If I mistakenly put one on here that I shouldn't have please let me know! I like to respect people's wishes. And if you could add the creator names too that would be great so the same mistake isn't made twice. Sorry for the inconvenience that my sharing may cause. I hope you have a good day.
#im a simp#yandere#male yandere#asks <3#request#i can't decide#lol i suck#lol help#yandere lmk#yandere lego monkie kid#yandere rottmnt#yandere tmnt#rottmnt#yandere x reader#male yandere x reader#yandere rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#trash's asks#giulio cesare procaccini#i need to stop procrastinating#good show jolly good show#lmk#lego monkie kid#yandere teenage mutant ninja turtles#teenage mutant ninja turtles
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Katsuki x GN!reader
Summary: Best friends to lovers, idiot style. Because they doubt themselves too much.
Warnings: Cussing, hints to Mina drinking, and monkey brain mindset that assumes way too much.
”(Y/N)!”
Katsuki yelled as he ran over to me as we finally won the fight. As he reached me I naturally opened my arms, wanting his presence after this exhausting battle.
But I wasn’t expecting him to lean into the hug, grabbing my face as he stole my breath away.
Literally.
Like, Katsuki Bakugo, my best friend and boy who I love more than life itself, is kissing me. Holy shit, Holy shit, HOLY SH- what do I do? I love Katsuki, but am I willing to risk out friendship for a relationship? Wait, what if he doesn’t actually love me and only has a stupid crush on me or what if-
After a second, Katsuki pulls back and stares at me in mix of worry and shock. But before I have the chance to clarify what just happened, we’re interrupted by yells.
“Bakubro! (N/N)! Are you all ok!?”
“That was an epic finishing move!”
Kirishima and Kaminari bombarded us with questions and compliments.
“I’m fine, and you did an awesome job of paralyzing the villain Kami. I’m going to go fill out my report, and... um, and then head out.”
~~~
“So, that’s what happened...” I finished explaining to Mina.
“You’re telling me you and boom-boom boy blew us off this past weekend, and yesterday’s lunch, because you and him kissed? I thought you two would be perfect for each other? I mean you two already act like a married couple.” Mina took a huge drink of her “water”.
“Well, yeah. I do like him, like a lot, actually I’ve been in love with him for years in a way that even surpasses romantic interest and-”
“So, what’s the problem???” Interrupting my rant, Mina looked at me like I was a hypochondriac or something.
“The problem is, MINA, that I don’t think he likes me.”
“... You did just say he tried to make out with you, right?”
“YES, but he probably doesn't love me the way I love him. He probably just started crushing on me or something. Knowing Katsuki, if he got the hots for me, then he’d go after what he wants and, you know, kiss me.” I paused and angrily grabbed Mina’s “water” and took a swig. Then, I continued, “He probably got caught up in the moment and kissed me like how I kissed Kiri that one time-“
“HOLY SHIT, you kissed Kirishima!?”
“Look, 2nd year at UA had us all confused. But that’s besides the point, Kiri and me decided we weren’t really into each other like that.”
“You’re going to tell me that story later, but right now, you better clarify some shit with Katsuki. Tell him how you feel, and let him tell you how he feels. It’s not fair to either of you for you to keep assuming how he feels.
~~~
“Wait, you actually kissed her!? Dude, that’s so manly! Still though, that doesn’t explain why you ditched us?”
“I’m avoidin’ them.”
“Bakubro, that is not cool! Why are you avoiding-“
“BECAUSE SHITTY HAIR, they didn’t kiss me back!” Bakugo huffed out as he grabbed his hair and groaned in frustration.
“… I’m sorry man. Have you tried talking to them though? Even if they don’t like you like that, if you really love them, you can’t lose their friendship over a kiss.”
~~~
You: Hey, can we meet up?
Sparky-Sparky, Boom Boom man: Yeah, let’s meet at the old grocery store parking lot
You: ok, see you in around 20 min.
~~~
“Hey, I’m sorry for avoiding you.” I looked at Katsuki and could see the waves of emotions flickering through his eyes.
“you’re good, ‘m sorry to.” Katsuki and I awkwardly held eye contact as he clenched and unclenched his hands. He always did that when he was nervous. I looked away and took a deep breath.
“Katsuki-“
“I’m sorry-“
I looked back at him, and shuffled my feet.
“You can go first” I whispered out as I chewed on my lip.
“Look, I’m so sorry for kissing you out of nowhere. I should have asked first. But fuck (Y/n), I love you so much. You mean more to me than anything ever could. You are my best friend, my rock, my supporter, and my rival. I don’t know if I could function without you anymore. And-“ Katsuki hesitated as he heard me sniffle. “Fuck, don’t cry. ‘m sorry. It’s ok if you don’t feel the same way, I just want you in my life”
I couldn’t help it, tears just started streaming down my face.
“Katsuki shut-“
“Like, if you need some time to let things go back to normal that fine. I can give you space, and we can stay friends-”
“KATSUKI! Shut up!” I caught my breath, and started giggling from relief, “I love you. I love you in a way that surpasses my understanding.”
“wait, really? Then why the hell did you not kiss back?” He looked at me confused, but pure joy still seeped through his features.
“because I was scared, scared that you were caught up in the moment of adrenaline.” I bashfully admitted.
“you idiot,” Katsuki wrapped me into a bear hug and nuzzled into my neck “let me make it clear for ya. I love you, and don’t forget it.”
“So, do you want to discuss what this means for us?” Katsuki leaned back and asked.
“Nah, I’m too emotionally drained for that conversation. Let’s head back to your place, eat dinner and crash. Then we can discuss it tomorrow.”
“Alright, but you’re cooking’ since you didn’t wash the dishes last time I cooked.”
“No fair! You put on sleepy music, how was I supposed to stay awake and remember!?”
#bakugo x reader#bakugou fluff#bakugou katsuki#bnha fluff#bnha hcs#bnha#bnha imagines#bnha x reader fluff#bnha au#mha x y/n#mha x reader#bnha x y/n#bakugo x gender neutral reader#gender neutral mc#mutual pining#best friends to lovers#bnha x reader#bnha bakugou#bnha headcannons#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#boku no hero acedamia#my hero acedamia#mha#fluff#bakugo x y/n#bakugo x reader comfort#bakugo katsuki imagine#katsuki bakugou x reader#katsuki x reader
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Double Edged Words
Based on a true story from Thanksgiving
I am sitting in for Thanksgiving night dinner at exactly at eight a loud ping comes in when I receive a text from a former friend of mine who recently apologized to me for some actions and I reluctantly forgave him the biggest mistake of my lives since that whole family is full of assholes
He jokes to me I am like a dry turkey then he goes on bashing me with way too many more food scenarios as a joke so I am really not in the mood the next day to deal with him or anybody on my first red carpet event let alone his parents.
His father who I see is completely dressed to the nines for the first time he usually is a mess walking the red carpet with his hand waving at me as I roll my eyes and offer my hand to shake but instead I wake up from my day dream.
I sigh a bit later in the bathroom after the ending of the premiere he blocks me in the bathroom placing his hand on my shoulder as I realize it is him then think for a second I have my chance.
He wants to take a selfie with me but I get a bit giddy letting him set up the flash I say to him I’ll do it but the light start to flicker and I am annoyed but move on asking him if he could see into the frame.
He stares deep into the light as the lights of flash blind him on and off leaving me with perfect excuse to put him under by using the camera to take a picture of him I begin to play with his mind.
He freezes on command at a stance unable to move except to blink allowing me some time to formulate a plan so wicked I might lose myself in it but I carefully concoct until the minute his eyes pop open.
He comes to life stretching his hands in the air, yawning so loud it would scare the ghost of the hand any and never noticing me I do stop and play with his hair but he does not even react.
“You can’t seem me, you hear my voice the voice of reason.”
“You did not treat your son’s friend Lawrence right you have to pay the piper.”
“No need to speak, their is only one think you can do.”
“You need to pay for your issues”
“You can start by being his slave “
“Kneel at his feet and kiss it”
“Know you are his property”
“Love him, love for him “
“Obey all his commands”
“Boom”
“Huh! Hey! What happened?”
“Oh Master! How can I please you?”
His eldest son Robbie is in hell seeing his old man doing something so out of character as he stands on stage looking like a damn ass fool and doing as his ex pal say like in a Hypnosis show.
Unfortunately for him the music starts to hit playing a beat he cannot stop it raises into the threshold of the roof he starts to do a very stupid dance consuming him loosing it in into a stream of insanity.
“Join us Robbie follow everything your father does.”
“Oh Master! How can I please you?”“Hope Everyone! Pay Attention Please” I say to the crowd.
“Meet my pal Jon! He is a asshole”
“Yes! I am the worst type”
“Hahahaha” the crowd erupts
“A real monkey! This one”
“Enter the audience while I sing”
“To all you fuckers who I hate “
“Let me play you a song “
“Ooooohhhhhh! Yyyeeeaaaahhh”
“I bet you think you won, like a dagger plunge into my soul”
“Killing me on site…lalalala “
“No such luck and I am here to fight “
“Break a few bones, a good whip and we still won’t be right as rain”
“I can see you dancing now”
“Addicted to my every word “
“Clap your hands and give me some to “
“Strip your close “
“Nanana”
Colton is the younger one grinding his ass on the floor as my debut single for the movie is burrowing deep into their brains nothing can stop it now as I am subliminally in his head reprogramming him in everything way and manner possible.
“Colton you look good in pink”
“Take it off “
“Dance your ass off”
“Showcase your body”
“Woo so smooth”
“You want to do it “
“My body is your play ground “
“You cannot deny me”
“You see it the flash “
“Blinding lights “
“The world spins”
“You have fallen “
“Just like the sound of my voice “
“Your heart beats”
“We join as one “
“Pumping in sync”
“You have fallen for me”
“You are mad and crazy “
“Give in for me”
“Leap off the ground“
“Sweet dear my bliss”
The end
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some stuff i read and watched in june:
taskmaster (s1-5): haven't done an early seasons rewatch in so long, s4 and 5 are basically perfect 2 me. incredible that mark watson manages to be both my favourite type of taskmaster guy (hopelessly despairing) and also nearly won the thing lol. nish forever obviously
silo: got well into this! probably at some point apple will stop throwing millions at sci-fi shows but i'm going to enjoy their folly in the meantime
mission: impossible ii: hadn't seen this one! the weakest of the lot but the john woo of it all is undeniable
mission: impossible iii: PSH outrageously good as the villain, hi keri russell
mission: impossible - ghost protocol: so much fun, especially the sequences where you can see brad bird's animation brain going
mission: impossible - rogue nation: ILSA my beloved, the opera sequence is so gorgeous, no notes!
mission: impossible - fallout: it's good when henry cavill reloads his arms, it's better when tom cruise is sprinting around london rooftops and breaking his ankle etc, my most basic trait is that i Love when they're in london like oooh tate modern. anyway i'm very ready for dead reckoning
asteroid city: the bits about making art really got to me! the vending machines were cool!
joint security area: crash landing on you prepared me for this, blank check weren't lying when they said it was homoerotic, song kang-ho forever etc
dodie smith, the town in bloom: the most delightful narrative voice i've read in Ages and v funny. easy to sell me on 1920s theatrical shenanigans
k patrick, mrs s: So hot and butch, i liked the butch friendship stuff almost more than the sex stuff. more sexy lesbian novels Please
kj charles, the secret lives of country gentlemen: another winner from KJC, my most reliable romantic comfort reads. this time it's smugglers!
alice slater, death of a bookseller: sticky little thriller about being poisoned by true crime, great sense of place, So many pints of dark fruits
laura kay, wild things: bisexual disaster in love with her best friend, tragically very me- and also george russell-coded, god i want to swim in a pond again
SOME STUFF I SAW AT ROCK WERCHTER
the dj on the first nigt who played a mash up of i'm gonna be (500 miles) into temperature and then the 1d cover of one way or another into little lion man (deeply cursed fandom flashbacks etc)
weyes blood with candelabras and glowing hearts and amazing adam curtis projections on the big screen behind her
king princess sending the gay girls of belgium absolutely wild - "you wanna hear a sad lesbian song?"
matty healy is a dickhead but he's very good at being the frontman of the 1975. like if ben whishaw was straight and kind of disgusting
stormzy!!! literally the rain was pouring during blinded by your grace pt 2
mumford and sons - this whole festival was like being borne back ceaseless into the past but the cave still fucks me up, marcus really in his ken marino era, face-wise
PUP - i do believe if this tour doesn't kill you, i will to be a wholly perfect song, they had a trans flag on stage, best vibes of the festival
sigur ros - sometimes you just want to be in a massive barn with thousands of people with your faces turned up in the dark feeling like you're inside the sound somehow
muse - fucking incredible live band still!! every time i'm see them i'm floored by how hot chris the bassist is and then i forget about it and then i see them again and i'm poleaxed etc. they had a tech meltdown during knights of cydonia at the encore so we got showbiz instead!!
christine and the queens - beautiful and terrible as the dawn
jacob collier - asked if we wanted to get funky then put on a special hat, bit george russell-coded in the face
arctic monkeys - sometimes you just want to be in a field with one of your oldest friends singing the songs of your youth!! i love the 70s act actually! there are so many sexy songs on AM!! the skies finally cleared for the beautiful full moon, thank you belgium, good night
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I rewatched “Under pressure” today I because I miss the weewoo show and because I wanted to see it dubbed in my language and I noticed some buddie stuff that I need to rant about:
First of all I’m dumb and I never realized the title “Under pressure” is from the infamous phrase “you’re badass under pressure brotha”. They really said “this is the most important sentence in the episode. Yeah, we have Bathena scenes for 20 minutes but what’s really important in this episode is BUCK AND EDDIE”.
i didn’t remember the grenade call was 10 minutes in. I remembered it being at the end of the episode, but no, buck and eddie enemies-to-lovers speedrun took HALF an episode. Not even an entire episode.
in my language buck doesn’t say “we might end up real close” he says “we might become one”. that’s a joke because he thought they were gonna explode together. idk if it’s a joke in English too and I never got it.
They have another call after that and it’s the head-stuck-in-the-microwave call. And Buck and Eddie jump in the pool together and are already more synchronized than synchronized swimming teams. This is in the episode they met for the first time. The message I’m getting from this scene is: look, they are ✨soulmates✨
in that call Bobby says “I’m gonna use the hammer” and Buck replies “no I wanna do it”. He’s already decided Eddie is his best friend at that point, so he’s not trying to prove himself. He is literally just trying to show off for him. Eddie tells him he’s good once and Buck’s brain immediately goes “how can I get him to tell me that again, every day, every second, forever”.
Bobby says “you didn’t win buck” and he IMMEDIATELY goes “Congratulation G.I.” because he’s so sure Eddie won because he’s super hot. This is the same scene as “He’s so cute” “yeah, you should see his kid” but it’s in the episode they met. Someone talks about someone else being hot/cute/great and Buck thinks “oh they surely must be talking about Eddie, my best friend Eddie, he’s the hottest/cutest/best person I know”
this has nothing to do with buddie but Chimney is dubbed by the guy who dubs the monkey in Shrek and this has absolutely ruined my viewing experience.
#this is not even a post this is just#random ramblings#I can’t believe how pathetic buck becomes after eddie praises him ONCE#I’m gonna watch the earthquake episode next#p
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#MusicMonday Review - October 2022
#MusicMonday is the hashtag I've been using for quite a while to share music recommendations from up-and-coming artists. Always fresh, and always different, trying to look for trends before they become one. You can check September's review for more music.
This month's music will take you to a journey to the dark side of matters. Regardless of genres, prepare yourself for a brilliantly apprehensive good time. Let's have a listen, with a word from the artists themselves. 🎧
Teen Angst – Kissless Virgin
There’s a lot I’ve done
I’ve lost, drawn and I’ve won
But only by myself
Never with anyone else
A dirty kind of pure
Just waiting at the door
I’ve been close for sure
But I’ve never been kissed before
Cause I want to feel right
For once in my damn life
Yes, Antisocial-pop is a real genre, and this band from Perth, Western Australia, shows us how does it feels like. Doesn’t it feel nice?:
"The phrase Kissless Virgin was used by a friend of mine to describe a Dungeons and Dragons character he was playing, and it immediately stuck in my brain as an interesting title for a song.
I already had the rough idea for the music of the song but the only lyric I had at that point was the refrain “What does it feel like?”. Once I had the new title of ‘Kissless Virgin’ I was inspired to finish the lyrics.
The lyrics explore the theme of feeling a yearning or regret about missing out on life experiences out of fear or anxiety."
Spirits of Leo – Asylum
Ash in hearth, I seek your shelter
Storming, rushing, bounding, assailing me
Entering my spine and crawling out my palms
The spirit is now ascending me
Commanding motion
From New York City, NY, get ready for a Shoegaze track as it should be: somber, yet energetic. Don’t fight, nothing ever comes if you won’t believe it:
"The song Asylum is about anxiety, obsessions/compulsions, and intrusive thoughts.
Essentially, the song is about finding safety and shelter from oneself, or specifically, one's inner demons.
It started out as a composite of meanings in relation to feelings of anxiety, but ultimately the song formed as a personification of inner demons."
Desert of Talking Shadows – Empty Hearts
You cannot hide
So darling don’t try
You wrap yourself around a heartbeat or a pulse, you call that love?
I wouldn’t know
I’ll love myself one day, but til then, I’ll just let you do it for me
Til you run out of it yourself
Switching gears, have a listen to a Rock track from Orange County, CA that takes elements from 70s bluesy attitude to ask the question broken hearts have:
"This song was inspired by a person and a specific experience I had in a past relationship, I don’t like to get into details as it’s best for the listener to interpret it how they like.
The track itself is inspired by Arctic Monkeys “R U Mine?” “Pretty Visitors”, and Royal Blood “How Did We Get So Dark?”"
Machine On A Break – Things That Go Bump
Be afraid,
even be angry,
but be careful not to hate,
because blame is such a dangerous game,
and there will never be a change if no one is listening.
From Sydney, Australia, this Alt Metal track combines the anger and frustration from the inequities that exist with the pain of possible inaction:
"I wrote it one night when I was angry after a conversation with someone. They'd been saying it's my responsibility to stay safe from the bad people in the world and I didn't think that was fair. We tell women to cover up and not go out at night by themselves but we should really be teaching people not to be creeps."
Bad Sidekick – Daily Lottery
I'm starting to feel like
my life's on a runway
and you're all invited
We finish off this month's ride in Bristol, UK for an impressive mix of gritty hooks, relentless beats, and uneasy vocals that will leave you breathless, but asking for more:
"I have an auto immune disorder and wrote the track about my experience with being in physical pain and what that meant for my future life and day to day living :)"
Listen to them and much more on the Playlist
@osornios
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I'm starting a blog. So I've hit rock bottom.
I used to think Blogs were only for desperate mothers and that one dog from the Disney Channel show (RIP). Now, I've realized that I fit into some third category: 20-somethings who want to feel some sort of connection with internet strangers. Do I seek validation? Idk maybe. Maybe I'm just lonely. Or maybe I'm having one of the worst days in my adult life.
I've also decided to do this because I am a special type of mentally ill. I have (undiagnosed) ADHD and a custom blend of Anxiety and Depression. This means that I need to be around others to be held accountable to do virtually anything. My therapist says journaling will help, but I need an audience to listen to my woes. If I'm not writing for someone else, what's the point, right?
So, here's how my day went.
My person is sick. They stayed home from work today. And I woke up to a blizzard. In Seattle. It was already a bad omen. I spent the morning trying to take care of them, as well as our two dogs and cat, let the maintenance dudes in and out and in and out of my apartment because they had to fix this giant hole (NO this is not a porn blog, get your mind out of the gutter, dear reader) and on top of all that I had my weekly Wednesday meeting that takes 25 minutes longer than it should.
On the off chance my person has COVID, I told my boss I would not make it into the office today. I work remotely and only go in once a week for a few hours to make promotional tik toks because apparently nobody over the age of 25 knows what's cool anymore. (I probably don't either, because I'm making a blog.) My boss told me I needed to come in so they could talk to me. That didn't sit right with me.
For the next two hours I fretted over what it could be they needed to talk about. Then I did this stupid journaling thing my therapist said. I wrote down all my anxieties and then picked apart what was real and what my brain was jumping to.
Here's what I came up with:
Real: I am a good writer.
Real: I am invaluable to the paper I work for.
Real: I am the only one who knows how to effectively use tiktok.
Anxiety: They would want to fire me because sometimes I misuse punctuation and have trouble spelling.
Well, it turns out anxiety won over today. I got to work and they immediately told me to take a walk outside with them. It was snowing. I was in a cropped sweatshirt. They then lit up a cigarette. Blowing smoke into my face, they bluntly told me that if it weren't for the 70 year old ad manager who can't use a computer I would be the weakest link at our newspaper. Our copy editor hates me because I use too many run-on sentences. They said for someone with degrees in both English and Political Science I make a lot of dumb mistakes, like this week when I thought the author of Anne of Green Gables was "Ellen Montgomery." They said if I don't improve very quickly, I might get fired.
And then I went back inside and pretended to work for another hour like a moron.
I walked home in the snow, shivering my bellybutton off because not only do I not know how to use commas but I also don't know how to wear a coat. I huddled up next to my person, who looks more like a zombie than the adorable little monkey they usually are. They had a 101 degree fever so I told them to take another COVID test. It was positive. Who is still getting COVID in 2023?? At least they didn't start a blog. That would be even more embarrassing.
I was supposed to go to a birthday party tonight, for friends I had already canceled plans with three times. At this point I'm worried it looks like I'm trying not to hang out with them, even though they're the coolest people I know. So, instead of partying and getting high with my favorite local comedians on a rooftop, I ordered takeout and sat on my couch alone, trying not to cry.
If you're still with me, dear reader, I will treat you to an excerpt from my diary:
I was supposed to go to Stephanie's party. Instead, I am sitting on the couch trying not to cry into a takeout burrito while I binge a whole mini-series about the FLDS Cult to try and feel a little bit better about my life. And I can't even cuddle with my person because they're locked in isolation in our bedroom.
Sleeping on the couch, questioning my future, and basking in loneliness? This must be what 45 year old men in a midlife crisis feel like. Fuck, I'm even getting into religion with this show.
So, there I have it, the lowest point in my life since I graduated college, moved to Seattle, and got what I thought would only be a temporary job. A job that I very well might get fired from. Maybe the real reason I've decided to start this blog is to prove to myself that I am a good writer after all. Even if I do spell a few words wrong here and their.
Also, Oliver, my cat, is throwing a tantrum because he is stuck in the living room with me until his other parent gets over COVID. He is not happy. I wonder if he'll try to eat me in my sleep?
#dayinthelife#cats#black cats#journalist#journalism#women writers#quarter life crisis#fuck covid#seattle#comedy#blog post#20 something#bad day#does it get better?#i'm sorry
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sleepy boys inc x gn!teen! reader headcannons
trying something new! i like bbs and all, but i wanted to write for other youtubers! lemme know if yall wanna see more content like this lol.
this takes place in a minecraft au!!! also, mentions of bad parenting/abusive parents
wc: 2,319
okay the sleepy boys
chaos incarnated, all of them. you can’t deny it
so, when tommy invites a friend from a local village, at first, everyone else is skeptical. since when has tommy made a friend who didn’t hate him within 20 minutes from all the screaming and insults he spewed?
unlike his friends, phil is more excited than anything. though he isn’t tommy’s dad, he feels like it sometimes, so he really wants to meet this new person who has caught the youngest’s attention
techno is very much not on board. he has a hard time trusting people at first glance and having been friends with tommy for the longest, he knows that tommy readily jumps the gun and attempts to befriend literally anything just because he can
and wilbur? indifferent for the most part. yes, he feels the need to make sure tommy is protected and cared for, but he also recognizes that this situation is out of his hands. the best he can do is hope that their friend isn’t an absolute asshole
so, it’s saturday. all three men are sitting on the couch in phil’s cottage, talking amongst themselves as they wait for tommy to come back. techno makes a joke about murdering them, which leads to phil scolding him about his violent tendencies
“you haven’t even met them yet, techno, what the fuck.”
wilbur is simply adding fuel to the fire, making little remarks here and there and watching the whole thing escalate to phil lecturing the piglin hybrid.
because of this, not one of them had noticed that tommy returned, with his newest friend. they both stopped at the sight of phil in dad mode, tommy considering just turning around and taking his friend as far away as physically possible
too late, since techno’s sixth sense made him whip around and stare at the newcomer. this made phil stop lecturing and wilbur quit giggling long enough for tommy to introduce his friend
after saying their name, the friend lifted their hand shyly, face burning from slight embarrassment. their other hand was latched onto tommy’s, feeling intimidated.
can you blame them? the fucking blood god looks like they wanna skewer them and cook them over a campfire.
tommy took notice of their shyness and cleared his throat, “we were planning on going to the carnival in their village if you three assholes feel like tagging along.”
like there was any way they were gonna let tommy and his friend go out without chaperones.
tommy turned back to his friend, “give me a second, i’m gonna go grab my sword just in case.” and proceeded to run up the stairs and towards the guest bedroom in phil’s house that he claimed.
the millisecond he was out of earshot, techno grabbed his friend by the front of the shirt.
“what are your intentions with tommy?”
the friend blinked once, twice, then bit back a smile. “you’re asking that as if i’m about to date that motherfucker.”
this time, it was wilbur who bit back a grin of his own. who would’ve expected the originally shy kid to have replied like that????
techno’s brain short circuited and his grip on their shirt loosened slightly. did.... did this kid just brush off his question???
“can you put me down? you’re gonna stretch my shirt.”
techno’s brain blinked back into focus and he gripped the kid’s shirt harder, shoving them against the nearest wall. “i asked a question, kid.”
“you know, tommy told me something like this would happen. i’m glad i came prepared.” and then, tommy’s friend sucked in a deep breath. techno leaned back, expecting the worst...
“MWISTER TECHNWOBWADE, PWEASE PUT MWE DOWN BEFWORE I SCWEAM”
oh god, this was far worse than anything he thought of.
he dropped the teen out of disgust more than anything, reeling backwards. if there was one thing that haunted his dreams, it was uwu-speak.
phil started howling of laughter, clutching his stomach and hunching over. originally he was going to stop techno from threatening a literal child but this outcome was so much better than anything he was anticipating
wilbur was no better, already tearing up from how hard he was snickering. he started choking on his own spit at one point, smacking his arm against the couch.
tommy was so fucking confused when he came back down the stairs, seeing the mayhem that was, for once, not caused by him. he glanced at his friend, who had the world’s biggest shiteating grin.
yeah, they were gonna fit in just fine.
and they did! phil took them under his wing (both physically and metaphorically) and allowed them to come visit his home whenever they wished. and whenever they did, phil was the first to ask how they’ve been and what they were up to
to phil’s surprise, the kid was overall calm in their choice of activities. things like playing soccer or drawing or figuring out how to learn instruments in their free time. it seemed like they were desperate to get their hands on anything and everything just to learn
he found it funny, though, when their chaotic side shone through. they easily were on tommy’s level when they got into that headspace and it was so hilarious to him.
his favorite memory of the kid was when they walked into the house and marched right up to where techno was reading idly in the corner. planting their hands on their hips, they spoke.
“if you were to fuck a clone of yourself, would it be masturbation or would you be considered gay?”
phil, who was washing the dishes six feet away from them, just about crumbled into a ball on the floor from how hard he was laughing and sobbing.
of all questions, that was the one that came out.
but he had no idea that the chaos was a coping mechanism. he just thought they were naturally like that in their free time.
he soon found out the truth when they came home with tommy, who was cursing up a fit, visibly angry. his friend was slumped over, as if trying to hide themselves from the world
when phil asked what had happened, tommy exploded.
“their fucking dad took all their money from their savings! said he needed it more than them and when they asked for it back, he called them a fucking disappointment! that fucking bitch--”
phil can count very few times when he felt true anger and he can confirm that when tommy had told him what had gone down, he saw red.
but he knew better than to outwardly show it. judging by how hunched over and defeated the kid was, what they needed was a stable support system
so he walked over and shut tommy up with a hand on his shoulder, “why don’t we take the rest of the night to build up that game room you wanted in the basement. i’m sure if we knock it out before techno and wil are supposed to be back, we can all play something like monopoly.”
seeing where phil was headed, tommy nodded and brushed away his anger. he knew that what his friend needed was a serious cheering up. tommy ran towards his guest bedroom, claiming that he was going to find his blocks.
phil crouched in front of the teen, tilting their head up to look him in the eyes. “you’re not a disappointment. you’re an amazing person with a chaotic joke machine going 120 kilos over the speed limit in your head and you are talented. your dad doesn’t know shit about what you’re capable of doing.”
oh boy, the kid’s crying. those are tears, full on tears.
that night was one of the best nights of their life, however. they enjoyed the entire three hour long game of monopoly where they watched the light leave everyone’s eyes. it was funny when wilbur lunged across the table when he landed on a railroad, out for phil’s blood.
speaking of wilbur, he enjoyed every minute in the kid’s presence. they often asked creative and random questions and went along with the abstract jokes he made, the two of them laughing heartily the entire time.
when the kid first mentioned wanting to learn how to play the guitar, he practically burst through the wall of the room next door, breathing heavily and exaggeratedly.
“did someone say guitar”
yeah, he’s feral. that’s canon.
they proceeded to spend the entire day in phil’s garden, each of them equipped with a guitar. despite their outwardly smooth brain and stupid demeanor, the teen was a fast learner and could play the most basic chords by the time the sun was setting.
wilbur’s favorite moment was the first night they met, when they went to the carnival. there was the game where you shoot the water and fill up the balloons and the kid was going head to head against techno and tommy.
it was when techno won that the teen turned to techno with murder in their eyes and spoke in a deadpan tone of voice,
“you’re lucky you won this time, you gentrified mayo monkey.”
wilbur’s jaw dropped, as did techno and phil’s. tommy was already in hysterics, smacking his hand against the counter that held the guns.
needless to say, wilbur found his favorite, not-quite sibling in a heartbeat.
techno was the last to come around with the child. can you blame him? every time he tried to threaten them or had beaten them at something, they would respond in a cryptic threat--
“i’m going to pee your pants if you don’t let me win”
or just brushed him off. without a second thought.
“anyways, i was murdering a chicken the other day, and the fucker had the audacity to ribbit at me.”
to say he was confused was an understatement. he was terrified of the fact that a literal child held so much power and disinterest in things like their own life. so for the first few months, he avoided them.
but he had seen past that when it was around midnight on a weekday. tommy was hanging out with tubbo and ranboo in their village miles away from the area. wilbur was out drinking with schlatt, niki, and fundy, and phil was already asleep.
techno wasn’t too far behind, sitting in front of the fireplace and staring out of the window that showed the front yard. it was only then when he saw the flash of a familiar face and looked closer as the teen walked up to the house quietly. their head was down and they carried a small bag with them.
techno opened the front door with a long creak as they reached the porch steps. it was only when they jumped and looked up in surprise that techno had noticed a deep bruise on their left cheek in the moonlight.
despite the fact that he kept away from them, techno was very protective and territorial of tommy, phil, and wilbur. and since they were attached to the teen, he became protective of them as well.
so all the voices in his head went quiet for a second. before exploding into a mixture of screams and threats, all leading back to protecting the child in front of him.
without thinking, he reached forward and cupped their face for a better view of the bruise. at the warm and soft touch, tears slipped down the kid’s cheeks and they sniffed pathetically.
the voices quickly took a 180, all screaming to take care of them. make them feel better. so, techno led the kid inside and let them spend the night in his room, with them falling asleep on the bed and him falling asleep on the rocking chair in his room.
phil did not hesitate to officially declare himself as the teen’s official father, saying that their biological father was a “little bitch”
now somewhat living with the teen, techno found an appreciation for their quieter moments, when they were reading or simply daydreaming. it was cute, in his eyes. but he also grew to enjoy when they were absolutely feral, especially toward tommy.
his favorite moment with them was when they had gifted tommy a music disc for his birthday. it was sweet and sentimental and tommy just about burst into tears when he saw it.
all of the sappiness quickly vanished when tommy put it into a jukebox.
“FUCK THIS PUSSY, BOY, FUCK. FUCK IT RIGHT, BOY--”
tommy had let out the most terrified scream and it practically engrained itself into techno’s brain. it was the first time he ever laughed at something the teen had done and the teen felt proud of themselves.
and finally, tommy. he was already happy to call himself a friend of the teen’s. they were like peas in a pod, working together.
tommy came to them when his insecurity felt heavy and they came to him whenever their dad’s words got to them. they had a nice system of dependency on one another and neither of them would trade it for the world.
tommy’s favorite moment of being friends with them was during their first birthday living in phil’s house. it was a birthday befitting their personality, with brightly color streamers hung and confetti all over the floor. he knew that they enjoyed it severely and once the cake was cut, the kid turned to phil.
“phil, where’s the big tiddy strippers i requested?”
tommy was GONE
he all but choked on his slice of cake and walked away, shaking his head while trying to stifle his giggles. but when he heard phil’s scream of “WHAT”, he just lost it.
all in all, his friend had made a fine part of the sleepy boys. they were a happy face in an otherwise somewhat bleak and dangerous world. and all four men appreciated it.
#sleepy boys x reader#sleepy bois x reader#sleepy bois inc#sleepy boys inc#sbi x reader#x reader#reader insert#teen! reader#mcyt x reader#minecraft youtubers#minecraft youtubers x reader#dreamsmp x reader
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Deja Vu (part 2 of 'Drivers License')
(inspired by deja vu by Olivia Rodrigo)
Word count: 2.5k
Read part 1 here
.
.
.
“What the fuck is this?”
Harry flinched as his girlfriend shoved the phone at him. He’d just got out of the shower, hair still dripping wet, but it wasn’t so out of the ordinary that she would start a fight first thing in the morning.
He sighed and gently pushed her phone away from his face. “Baby, if it’s another rumour about me cheating on you...I was with you this whole week!”
“No.” She lifted the phone up to his face again. “That girl just released another song about you.”
Even though Harry didn’t let it show, whenever he heard about Y/N, his heart would always skip a beat. He couldn’t remember exactly when the last time they’d spoken was, but he knew in his last message to her, he’d congratulated her on that new song about him. She’d never replied, and he’d taken it as the answer — they could never go back to the way it was.
It had broken his heart to listen to ‘drivers license’. Y/N had never been the kind of person to be vocal about her feelings. Or maybe she’d expressed it through actions instead of words, and he had been too nonchalant to see? He hadn’t meant to break her heart and leave her in the dust. After all, she used to be his best friend.
“Y/N’s a songwriter. She writes about her own experience the same way I do. Maybe that song is not even about me, babe,” he calmly told his girlfriend, who was standing in front of him with fresh tears in her eyes. He hated to see her cry, and he hated that this wasn’t the first time she’d done it because of him. He tried to reach for her but she stepped back, shaking her head.
“Listen to the song.”
“Baby.”
“Listen to the song,” his girlfriend repeated without looking at him. “Why are you so afraid?”
“I’m not.”
“Then listen to it and tell me it’s not about you, and that she’s not throwing shades at me. I’m so tired of this girl telling the world about how horrible we are as if you had even dated her in the first place—”
“Fine,” Harry exhaled sharply, his eyes pinched shut. He hated that when his girlfriend got mad, she would get so mean for no reason, and the last thing he wanted to hear right now was her insulting Y/N. He knew Y/N. She had always been respectful to his new relationship. However, he wasn’t in the position to tell his girlfriend how to feel about this situation. He knew it was all his fault, so he stayed quiet, took the phone from his girlfriend and sat down on the edge of the bed. His girlfriend stood with her back against the wall facing him, waiting for him to play the song so she could see his reaction to it.
“Go on,” she told him, her voice emotionless.
Harry looked at the song on Spotify. It was titled deja vu. He took a deep breath and one last look at his girlfriend before finding enough courage to press play.
Y/N’s previous song about him had been blasted in every shop he’d visited, all the time when he was filming, every time he was in the car, and now, the moment he heard her voice again, it really did feel like deja vu.
Car rides down Malibu
Strawberry ice cream
One spoon for two…
.
.
.
“Are we there yet?”
“No, stop being so impatient! Just keep on driving!” Y/N said and looked out of the window on the passenger side. The sun was going down, and the horizon was gradually turning the colour of an egg yolk. It was their last day in Miami. They had been filming for every day that week, and this was the only day they could spend just for themselves.
Harry stole a glance at Y/N and saw that she’d finished half the strawberry ice cream while bobbing her head to the song Uptown Girl on the radio. He frowned, making her laugh when she noticed.
“Open your mouth,” she said and fed him a spoon of ice cream.
“Ahh, brain freeze!”
“But it’s good, isn’t it?”
“So good.” Harry licked his lips. The face he made got Y/N laughing harder.
Fifteen minutes later they arrived at a secluded beach. Y/N had found this place when she traveled to this city alone two summers ago and almost got lost.
Together, she and Harry carried their picnic things through a palm forest, and by the time they saw the ocean, the moon had made a fading presence on the pink Miami sky.
Y/N picked up her shoes and ran towards the waves, letting it chase her back into Harry’s arms and nearly knocking him over. Their laughter echoed in the wind as their shadows stretched out long and lanky on the empty beach. In that very moment, it felt to Harry as if they were the only people in this world, and he had a sense of peace that he might never be able to experience again.
“You don’t get to see this in the city,” Y/N said dreamily as she pulled Harry’s jacket tighter around herself. It was dark now, and the sky above them was full of stars. They sat shoulder to shoulder on a picnic blanket, listening to the whispers of the ocean and the wind. Harry used Y/N’s jacket as a blanket because it was too small for him to put on. They’d laughed for five minutes straight when she told him he looked like that monkey from Aladdin and took plenty of photos just to prove the point.
“I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” he said, still looking at the sky.
“Me neither,” Y/N sighed, her shoulder brushing his. There was a pause, and he could feel her eyes on him, so he turned and saw her looking. “When I get home,” she said with a small smile that made her eyes sparkle, “I’ll learn to drive, and when we come to Miami next time, I can drive you to this beach.”
“I’d love that,” Harry said, then made her pink-promise him.
.
.
.
“They went to Miami last week.”
Y/N blinked. The beach and starry sky disappeared in a second, and she found herself once again standing in the fitting room with her stylist and best friend.
“What?” her best friend marched over to where she stood in front of the full-length mirror.
Her stylist was holding the phone up to show her the article. “Here. Harry took that actress to Miami last week.”
“Don’t show her these!” Y/N’s best friend grabbed the phone and put it on the vanity desk as she gestured to the stylist. “You do your work. Enough chit-chatting.”
“I took him there,” Y/N said. She didn’t even recognise her own voice at first because she was too in shock. She didn’t think Harry would do something like that. But let’s be honest -- how much did she really know about him?
It had been a few months since his last text to her, which she had ignored, and now her song had been overplayed, and nobody cared about the drama anymore. The whole world had moved on, and she had, too. Or so she’d thought. Now, seeing these pictures of him and his girlfriend on that Miami beach made Y/N feel betrayed.
“Asshole,” her best friend said and grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t worry baby. You’re prettier.”
Y/N worked up a smile and opened her mouth to say that she was fine, but then she heard someone call her name and turn around. They weren’t calling for her. Just a name similar to hers that had become an inside joke between her and her friends.
The moment she locked eyes with Harry’s girlfriend, her heart seemed to stop as she held her breath, her lips thinned as if to hold back a scream. She didn’t know the girl personally and had never run into her before today. How unfortunate that they had to be in the same room after Y/N had seen those Miami pics.
“What is she doing here?” Y/N’s best friend asked the stylist the question Y/N was too afraid to ask.
“Fitting for an event, I guess,” the stylist said.
Y/N told them to just ignore the others and mind their own business. The sooner they got the measurements, the faster she could leave. Or she could leave right now and come back another day, but that would make it look like the other girl’s presence was bothering her. They were both actresses, and so they would have to run into each other at some point. She must be professional about it. This was normal. Just act normal.
“He’s so unique,” Harry’s girlfriend said while laughing with her team. Y/N didn’t mean to overhear the conversation, but apparently, the girl was making sure that Y/N heard her loud and clear. “We were watching reruns of Glee last night, and he even sang to me and told me he loved me inbetween the chorus and the verse. Don’t touch the jacket! It’s Harry’s and it’s Gucci. We exchange jackets sometimes. Isn’t that adorable?”
“Show off,” Y/N’s best friend scoffed while shaking her head.
Y/N didn’t say anything. In her mind, she agreed with her best friend for a second and immediately felt that she was being petty so she forced herself to just be nonchalant about it.
She could not. She could not ignore the fact that she’d been replaced as if she didn’t matter. Harry was doing all the things he used to do with her with his new girl. Even taken her to that Miami beach. Their place.
Y/N bit her lip and tried to hold back the half-formed tears in her eyes as the stylist went on talking about the fabric. She chose a random one just to get this over with.
“I hope that fucker gets deja vu.”
“What?” Y/N blinked at her best friend, who gave a mean shrug as she glared at the girl.
“He’s probably thinking of you while doing all that shit with her.”
Y/N pondered over it. Over and over. Even after the girlfriend’s laughter had faded down the hallway, and Y/N was also packing up to leave the studio. Her best friend’s words stayed with her as she got into the car and watched the street of London pass by her window.
That night, when she was alone in her living room with her piano. She sat down and started playing a few experimental chords. Then, she cried. Her tears blurred the handwritten lyrics on her notebook as she tried again.
“I have this idea,” she told her manager on the phone before sending the recording. It was three in the morning.
“Oh my god,” her manager exclaimed, sounding much more enthusiastic than he had when picking up her call. “This song...is so gonna win a Grammy!”
.
.
.
Y/N’s song had won a Grammy.
They had talked about it for so long. Harry had encouraged her to pursue a singing career, because she’d started out as an actress but was blessed with the most beautiful voice he had ever heard.
Ironic, wasn’t it? Now he was sitting at the front row and looking up at her as she received the award from an artist she looked up to, for the song written about him. She smiled at the crowd as the light shone on her and everyone was cheering because she deserved this. She said her thanks and expressed her gratitude to her family, her teams and her fans. She didn’t say his name. He hadn’t hoped that she would, because he knew there was no way his name would come with a positive message. So he was kind of glad she hadn’t mentioned him.
His girlfriend squeezed his arm as if she knew what he was thinking of. He smiled at his girlfriend. A smile of reassurance. They had put it behind them and promised to try again after all the fights about the song they were playing right now. Nothing would change after tonight. Because there was nothing Harry could change.
He caught Y/N’s eyes for one brief moment as she ascended the stage. Although he was sure he loved his girlfriend, there was something about that look that made him sad. Would he be happier to come here with Y/N tonight instead of his girlfriend? He wouldn’t know, because that would never happen. He didn’t even know if she still resented him, or if she was still the same person he remembered. A lot could change in a day let alone many months. And it was scary to think someone you used to know so much had become a complete stranger. The opposite of love wasn’t hate. It was indifference. And Harry felt it deeply as Y/N never paid him a second glance.
At the after-party, he worked up the courage to approach her when he found her standing alone texting on her phone.
“Hi. How are you?” he said.
Y/N looked at him as if she couldn’t understand English. If she ignored him and walked away, this would be the most humiliating moment of his life.
But no. She pressed her lips into a gentle smile and said, “I’m good. How are you?”
“Good.” He nodded, wanting to shake her hand, but his fingers stayed glued together behind his back. “Congratulations on your win.”
“Thank you.” She picked up the glass of wine on the table beside them, and Harry knew he’d lost his chance of shaking her hand tonight. “Did you like the song?”
“Yeah. It was good,” he said, finding it difficult to hold eye contact with her. There was something new about her that unsettled him, and he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For speaking out about it.”
“Oh.” Y/N showed no emotion as she shrugged. “It’s alright. I only said the truth. The song was fictional, and I don’t want anyone to get hate for it.”
They both knew it wasn’t true, and he couldn’t tell her that his girlfriend had almost broken up with him for it. Even if he had told her that, he didn’t think Y/N would care. She didn’t look like the Y/N he knew anymore. Suddenly, he recalled that night on the beach, when she was still looking at him with feelings.
“Look, Y/N, I—”
Before he got a chance to form a proper thought for what he was going to say, his girlfriend, who was obviously drunk, shouted from somewhere behind him. “Babe, Jeff’s wearing a tiny jacket! He looks more like the monkey than you!”
Harry looked at Y/N. She held his gaze. The corners of her red lips quirked as she raised her glass. “Deja vu?”
Just like that, she left him standing there all by himself.
#harry styles#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles imagine#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagines#harry styles angst#harry styles writing#harry styles x reader#harry styles one shot#harry styles one shots#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#deja vu#drivers license#olivia rodrigo
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Okay. I’m going to ramble about LMK, specifically the idea of a Macaque redemption arc!
I don’t have any friends to talk about this to, so enjoy this post! I just needed to put this somewhere that’s not my brain.
(Spoiler-y for lmk season three, see more under the cut.)
I didn’t even proofread this or check for errors. Just have this chaotic strings of thoughts lol
I feel like the only possible way that a Macaque to have a even sort of satisfactory redemption is if he sacrifices himself in the special(?) that’s coming out(if there is one?)
in season three, in my opinion (it’s okay if you disagree just don’t come after me for having it)
I felt really bad for Macaque. It was much easier to dislike him when he was nothing but a cocky bastard that projected his trauma onto others.
What really unnerved me was when the said cocky bastard looked genuinely scared Of LBD.
It didn’t feel right. And it’s been hinted on Twitter by a writer that LBD manipulated Macaque into thinking SWK killed him, even though he didn’t(???)
Yes he’s done some shitty stuff but I think it would be cool to see him try and make up for his mistakes.
As of right now, Mk gave him a chance to help fix what he caused and he ran away like a coward.
The only way the team would ever willingly take him in is if he got wounded while sacrificing himself to help them.
I think Mk wouldn’t want Macaque to die, even if he doesn’t trust him.
Now what would be REALLY cool is if when SWK arrives to try and fight LBD, he gets overwhelmed and is losing. Maybe Mk couldn’t get there in time or SWK is at a spot where Mk can’t reach.
Maybe SWK is bracing for the final strike when from out of the shadows, rises Macaque.
He takes the blow for his old friend and he, Mk, Mei, and SWK win the fight.
Of course LBD is still alive, she just retreated back to megatropolis. They won a fight, not the war.
Mk is excited and relieved that Monkey King is okay, when both of their attentions turn towards Mac.
He’s wounded. Badly.
Macaque tries to slip back into his shadows to avoid confrontation but gets grabbed by SWK. He then proceeds to pass tf out.
Cue an awkward redemption arc from Macaque while he recovers from his injuries. Slowly but surely he starts coming out from his shell.
ALSO THIS IS MY FAVORITE PART
Later in the season after some of the redemption arc, Mk completely looses control while fighting. Macaque tries to stop the kid seeing him beginning to go too far, but Mk just looks Macaque dead in the eyes and is like,
“I don’t use a weapon, I am the weapon.”
And then just fucking explodes with magic.
Nobody can calm him down. Not Mei, not Redson, not even Monkey King.
But Macaque takes a page out of Mk’s book and does the same for him that Mk did for Mei when she lost control, Mac starts talking and trying to reach him.
Mac: Mk look, I was wrong! I shouldn’t have ever said that to you.
Mk doesn’t respond but Macaque steps closer, fighting against the gale of magic trying to push him away.
Mac: you’re not a weapon, you’re so much more than that! And I’m… I’m sorry Mk. I’m so sorry.
Mk’s eyes widen and the gale stops, and Macaque reaches him and wraps his arms around the kid.
It was the first hug Macaque had in years. (It would be even better if in a previous episode there was a joke about Macaque never hugging/touching people)
After a moment of initial shock, Mk reciprocated it, fully regaining control in the process.
God I just really want a redemption arc for him. Like really badly.
Anyways. If you got to the end of this I’m impressed lmao. Feel free to let me know what you think!
:)
#lmk season 3#lmk#lego monkie kid#monkiekid#ella’s ramblings#six eared macaque#please just give the theatre kid a cool redemption arc please#i wish I had someone to talk to about this#but hey! it’s your problem now!#myy headcanons
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girl in the mirror pt2 | DRACO MALFOY
MASTERLIST
PAIRING: Draco Malfoy x Muggle!Reader
SUMMARY: part two of girl in the mirror. draco meets his soulmate for the first time. she’s pretty cool for a muggle, but reveals something that has him heading back to hogwarts a little less than happy.
WARNINGS: none i think?
A/N: i dont think americans have houses and i assume most of my readers are american,, so in case its confusing obviously theyre like harry potter houses, but jk rowling made it ten times more dramatic and a main part of her story. we dont really care about houses irl.
Explaining to you that Draco was a wizard was one of the most frustrating and hardest things the blond boy had ever had to do. Only hours later were you starting to reluctantly believe that he was telling the truth. He’d been reluctant to tell you, but since you were his soulmate, you were allowed to know. You had the right.
The pair of you hadn’t even realised how much time had gone by, sat on your bed as you stare at him unsurely.
“You look as though you still don’t believe me,” Draco says. “I’ve shown you my wand.”
“Yes, but you’ve not shown me any real magic, have you?” You raise an eyebrow, folding your arms across your chest.
“I told you, I have to wait a few months ‘till I’m seventeen,” Draco reminds you with a roll of the eyes. “Then I’ll show you something.”
You sigh, not wanting to believe him but having a funny feeling that he was telling the truth. I mean, how else could you explain the fact that he had literally fallen through your mirror?
“So... We’re soulmates,” you repeat from earlier, before the two of you had fought over whether or not Draco was really a wizard.
“Yeah,” Draco whispers with a nod. “You know what that is, right?”
“I guess,” you mumble, hugging your arms closer to yourself. “But why is your soulmate not... magic as well?”
Draco shrugs. “Happens sometimes,” he says. “Never ever to a Malfoy...” He looks a little paler as he says so. “But I suppose there’s a first for everything.”
You wonder why it’s a big deal for a member of his family to be put with ‘a Muggle’ as he had called you before.
“Enough about me,” Draco claps his hands together when he sees the clogs in your brain turning. “Let me find out about you. Please. I’ve been wondering about you since the day I turned thirteen.”
“There’s not much to say,” you sigh. “I guess I just go to school... come home... homework... maybe hang out with friends sometimes.”
Draco seems interested despite your negative mood, sitting up straighter with an eager look behind his silver eyes and an encouraging small smile on his face.
He looks odd sat on your bed. He truly does look like some sort of magical being with his pale features and icy hair, and the black suit and turtleneck and polished shoes make him look like he belongs truly where he says he’s from-- a castle or something. Not your bedroom that screams twenty-first century teenage girl.
“Well, tell me about school,” Draco suggests, glancing you over. “Your tie is red. Is that your house?”
You glance down with a frown, pulling at your tie. “Hm? Oh, no. I’m in Austen. The yellow house.”
Draco frowns. “Is that good or bad?”
You frown back, raising a brow at him. “I mean... we won the most house points last year? Not really a big deal. Oh, and we won house games, like, two years in a row.”
“Not a big deal?” Draco scoffs. “Well done, Y/N! That is a great deal.”
You stare at him like he’s grown two heads. “Thanks? I’m assuming houses are a big deal at your school?”
“Well, of course,” he says rather arrogantly. “I’m a Slytherin. How were you sorted into your house? Do you take personality quizzes in the Muggle world?”
“No,” you giggle slightly and Draco’s heart skips a beat at the sound. “You just get put into whatever house depending on what tutor group you’re in. I switched from green to yellow half way through secondary school because our tutor group got full.”
Draco had never looked so confused. He wonders how Muggles are even motivated to do well when their house points don’t even really mean anything to them.
He knows a few things about Muggles-- he knows they definitely do not play Qudditch on flying brooms and would much rather play football. He guesses their house games are like that.
“My tie’s red because I’m a prefect,” you say and reach into your bedside drawer, producing a red badge with ‘prefect’ written in gold on it.
Draco’s grin brightens, taking it from you as he scans it over. “Oh, they look just like ours!”
You laugh at his eagerness. “That’s good.”
There’s a moment of silence and Draco peers at all of the records placed on your wall. He stands and moved to look at some of the vinyl covers, pointing at your The Neighbourhood one, releasing a huff of air past his nose and glancing over his shoulder back at you.
“You listen to this one all the time,” Draco states. “I like the one about jumper weather or something.”
You laugh and nod. “Sweater Weather. It’s a good song...” You trail off. “You know, I don’t really understand your music. You only seem to listen to classical.”
“That’s me,” Draco says, scratching the back of his neck. “Playing the piano. I don’t- I don’t really listen to music much. I never really have to when you listen to it 24/7 anyway.”
You look away with a small blush on your face, bashful. “Sorry.”
“No, no, no,” Draco moves to sit beside you on your bed. “I love it, actually. It makes assemblies less boring and sleeping in a dorm far more bearable.”
“I’m glad,” you say. “Do you want to listen to something now?”
Draco’s breath hitches because it’s all he’s ever wanted. He nods slowly, scared that you would laugh in his face and take your suggestion back. You grab your phone off of your bedside table and press shuffle on a playlist. Draco can’t believe how weird it is to hear your music playing but not have it muffled in his ears as if he was underwater.
He watches with parted lips as you slide down so you’re laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling. Draco looks at you like you put the stars and the moon in the sky. You might be just a Muggle, but you’re magic to him. The true definition of it.
Slowly, unsure if he’s crossing a line or not, Draco slides down so he’s lying beside you on your bed, on his back like you. You both stare at your ceiling and he notices that you have constellations painted on it. He nearly melts when he sees ‘Draco’, one of the biggest ones.
He slides his hand down the small gap in between you and hesitantly holds your hand before guiding it up above your heads. It’s not like real stargazing, but Draco likes it. Maybe one day he would be able to sneak you to the Astronomy Tower and show you the same sky he stares at most nights.
“That’s Draco,” he says.
You smile as you turn to face him and Draco shuffles to face you too, the only sounds being your small breaths and an Arctic Monkeys song playing behind you.
“Maybe I always knew?” You suggest.
“Maybe,” Draco chuckles back and turns to look up at the ceiling.
You spend a few seconds admiring his side profile; his sharp jaw and the strength of his nose. It’s hard to be scared of the stranger when he’s so beautiful and feels so familiar. Like a puzzle piece you’d been looking for.
“You’ve only been playing sad songs recently,” Draco says quietly after a little bit. “Is everything okay with you? I was worried... so I asked my friend to teach me how to do the mirror trick.”
You frown a little at the reminder and immediately grow embarrassed. You’re not sure if you should make up a lie or try to change the subject, but Draco seems really concerned and you’d feel awful lying.
“My... Well, um, my boyfriend broke up with me,” you say awkwardly.
You feel Draco stiffen beside you. He sits up after a few seconds. He knows it’s not really your fault but he can’t help feeling jealous and angry. He swallows as he stares at a spot on your carpet, unsure how to feel knowing that his soulmate had been with another person.
He needed a moment to think. He didn’t want to scare you with his harsh words or looks.
“I should get back,” Draco mutters, trying to make his voice sound strong as he stands.
“Draco, I--”
“It’s nearly what? Four in the morning? I should of been going ages ago anyway,” he forces you a grim smile as he heads towards the mirror. “I’ll try and talk to you tomorrow, Y/N.”
You watch with a saddened expression as Draco slips his hand through the glass or your mirror and is suddenly gone. You push yourself up from the mattress and rush over, your fingertips brushing it but coming to a dead end. You blink back tears, wondering if you had just imagined the entire thing.
You stare into the mirror, unaware that Draco is sadly staring back.
...
i know it’s a lil dramatic but that’s draco for you and teen love in general tbh
#draco malfoy#draco#malfoy#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy smut#draco malfoy x reader#dracomalfoy#harry potter#harry potter imagine#imagine#draco malfoy x muggle!reader#draco malfoy au#draco malfoy soulmate au#harry potter au
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Friday Night Stabby best quotes part 23 (11/06/21)
Impulse is missing from this session so Astro’s wife Ursulala “Lala” filled in for him. i normally watch Impulse’s POV but for this stream, i watched Tango’s.
…
Endless: Alright guys, so I watched Evil kill Brody and then I started chasing Evil trying to report the body but that’s not how this game works.
Evil, laughing: I can’t- I can’t even deny it!
...
*Astro has been caught killing with 4 people left*
Lala: I don’t know who to vote for…!
Etho: So… we’re gonna need you to turn on someone you care about right now.
Lala: Oh, I don’t like that!
...
*silence as Tango does a task*
Tango: This feels like a round where I’m gonna die early.
Etho: *kills Tango*
...
Lala: The only person I saw at all in that direction was Joker so I’m voting for him, I don’t even care.
Skizz: Alright! I like it! *votes*
Etho: Whoa…
Joker: What?
Skizz: Wait… I dunno. I may have jumped the gun, there. I still got 3rd Life bloodlust on the brain.
...
Etho: Joker?
Joker: What?
Etho: Where were you?
Joker: I dunno.
Skizz: Joker, you are USELESS!
...
Etho: *reports a body*
Etho: Well, well, well!
Tango: Ooh…!
Endless: Ooh…!
*pause*
Etho: ...I got nothing.
...
*Etho and Skizz are lovers, Etho is imposter with Tango, there are 4 people left alive*
Etho: *calls emergency meeting*
Etho: Okay, I think it’s pretty clear. It’s Tango.
Joker: Yeah, he was the last person I heard [when Mrs Tango died].
Etho: Voting Tango. *votes*
Skizz: *votes*
Tango: No. Joker, listen. Joker, Joker-
Joker: *votes*
Tango: JOKER, you just blew it! *groans*
Etho: *laughs*
Tango: Joker, I’m gonna tell you the truth right now, cuz it’s all out there, okay? You just blew it, my friend.
Etho: I got a pact with someone, Tango, I’m sorry.
Tango: Etho and Skizz are lovers, alright? You just blew it.
Skizz: We’re more than lovers, dude! Red Army forever!!!
Tango: WRONG GAME, man! Wrong game, Red Army!
Etho: You were- You were a Crastle people traitor.
Skizz: *laughs hysterically*
Tango: I shoulda killed Skizz when I had the chance, I woulda taken you both out, I would’ve won! I knew it was coming, Etho! It was just a matter of time!
Etho and Skizz: *laugh*
Skizz: 3rd Life lives on!
Tango: I’m voting Joker cuz he smells.
*votes are revealed, Tango is ejected*
Skizz: Ah, Etho, you’re the best!
Etho: That was beautiful.
Tango: I waited too long, that was my fault.
Joker: That was a no-win situation for me.
Etho: You had no chance there, Joker.
Joker: Yeah, I had no chance.
Skizz: That was SO poetic!
...
Astro: Why is everybody killing Lala early? It’s very rude.
Tango: Says Astro the killer.
Astro: If I ever get a round of imposter, I’m gonna avenge every one of these deaths.
...
Tango: Joker and I were sharing sweet nothings over in nav and then in shields.
Mrs Tango: Uhh…
Tango: Oh yeah, you BET you wanna know ;)
...
Tango: Brody’s got me fooled.
Brody: That’s not hard to do.
...
*after a stack kill*
Evil: I saw Brody teleport to the body.
Brody: I sure didn’t do that.
Tango: Evil, are you voting for Brody?
Evil: I did.
Tango: Alright, I’ll do it. *votes* I’m afraid we’re gonna get jestered, but…
Skizz: He voted for himself at the beginning, why would-
*votes are revealed, Skizz is the only one who didn’t vote for Brody*
Brody, being ejected: I’m so confused.
Tango: Did he just win?
Brody: I’m SO confused. Why did you guys just give me that?
Evil: *bursts out laughing*
Tango: Oh god…
Skizz: Is this for real?
Brody: Evil, why would you just give me that? You knew it was me.
Tango: Evil!
*Brody wins as jester*
Etho: Why?! I don’t get that!
Endless: What? Why would-? What?!
Evil: *still laughing hysterically*
Skizz: You guys are morons.
Tango: EVIIIL! What’s wrong with you?! Why would you lie?!
Evil, still laughing: I didn’t believe he was the jester!
Skizz: HE VOTED FOR HIMSELF TWICE!
...
Tango: Rule number one: if you don’t understand a button, press it immediately.
...
Tango, running into electrical to find only Lala there: Oh hi, Lala!
*silence*
Tango: Lala, how you doing tonight? We haven’t had a chance to talk.
*silence*
Tango: Good chat, let’s do this again sometime.
*silence*
Tango: Thanks, Lala. That- Great stuff…
...
*imposter Mrs Tango accidentally killed her partner’s lover and got ejected for it*
Mrs Tango: Dangit, Astro!
Astro, laughing: Hey, Mrs Tango? D’you r- remember when I had a lover that round?
...
*after Skizz sheriffed Tango 10 seconds into the round*
Tango: Let’s find Skizz and close all his doors.
*ghost Tango floats over to electrical and finds Skizz’s ghost hovering next to his body*
Tango: OH SKIZZ WHAT’S THE MATTER YOU’RE DEAD IN THE FACE YOU JERK BUTT!
Skizz: *bursts out laughing*
Tango: YOU ARE SUCH A MONKEY- *cuts himself off* MMMNNAAAA, alright?! You know that?! I did NOTHING- I did NOTHING to tip you off except mock colours!
Skizz: Yes you did, dude!
Tango: And you come over like *mocking Skizz* “mleh I’ve known you long enough”, you took a shot in the dark, you monke-! *again cuts himself off*
Skizz: It was not a shot in the dark!
Tango: Yes it was!
Skizz: No it wasn’t!
Tango: TOTAL shot in the dark!
Skizz: NO IT WASN’T!
Tango: You’re a flaming buttnugget!
Skizz: *laughs again*
Tango: I’m so glad you’re dead.
...
(the same round)
Tango: I just wanna let you know right now: you’re dead to me.
Skizz: *laughs*
Tango: We used to be friends. I am setting your volume to zero. Goodbye, Skizz! Nice knowing you!
Skizz, still laughing: You better not!
...
Tango, dead: Vote Skizzleman!
Skizz, also dead, laughing: “Vote Skizz”.
Tango: Vote Skizz. Resurrect his corpse and then throw him out into space.
...
Tango: How are the bubbles? Am I gonna experience this joy later or what?
Mrs Tango: You can only hope.
Tango: Ohoho! Can’t wait! Skiddley-doo!
...
Skizz: *calls a meeting*
Skizz: I finally got to get there, and here’s what I’m gonna do. I will give the killer- I have risen from the dead. And I will give the killer a chance to step forward and admit to your sins and be forgiven.
Brody: Did Astro save you? Cuz that sounds like something he would do.
Skizz: Astro saved me, that’s correct.
Lala: Awww, he’s so cute!
Mrs Tango: Yay altruist!
...
*Etho is unanimously voted out*
Brody, deadpan: It’s anonymous though, you don’t know who voted for you.
...
Endless: Why did you vote for me? I was literally on the other side of the ship when that happened.
Brody: Because you killed me.
...
Skizz: Hey, Etho. Hey, buddy. You had an opportunity to confess your sins and you just weren’t having it.
Etho: You know, I wasn’t really paying attention and then I realised “oh, this is actually coming back to bite me”.
...
*Tango reporting a swooper kill*
Lala: Or Tango just killed Brody-
Tango: No no no, listen. I’m the engineer, so-
Lala: Uh huh-
Tango: No no, I’m telling you right now, I’ll vent in front of your dumb face, let’s go.
Astro: Hey now!
Etho: This is getting spicy :D
Lala: I don’t think I like you calling me dumb, Tango.
Tango: Alright, I’ll just vent in front of your face.
Etho: He didn’t call you dumb, he called your face dumb. There’s a big difference.
Astro: I’m not sure that makes it better.
...
*in the lobby*
Endless: Tango, here’s what happened. I was talking to Mrs Tango and I said “have you still not finished the swipe [card task]?” and then she said “I just did” and then I realised we didn’t HAVE the swipe [card task], so that’s why I was saying she was faking it.
Tango: You know what would’ve been good?
Endless: If I had said that-
Tango, at the same time: If you had said that in the meeting. That would’ve been good.
...
Tango, as the game is starting: Everybody vote Etho off, he’s the imposter.
Etho: Whoa whoa whoa whoa!
Tango: Etho sus!
...
Lala: I gasped cuz I saw the purple body and I thought I died.
Brody and Evil: *laugh*
Brody: Those are two different shades of purp- How much juice have you had?
Astro: Just a bottle.
Lala: I don’t like your tone, sir.
#friday night stabby quotes#friday night stabby#tangotek#skizzleman#etho#misterjoker#evilnotion#theendless#brodyman#mrstango#astrozoan#ursulala
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Even if you can’t protest you can still help
Not everybody can go to protests. Some people have physical disabilities that prevent them, some people have mental illnesses that make it dangerous to go into volatile situations, some people have sensory issues that mean a protest isn’t a good or safe place for them to be, some people are members of vulnerable populations who can’t risk arrest, some people can’t risk the possibility that an injury or arrest is going to cost them a job and end in homelessness.
Not everybody can protest and that is 100% okay.
If you can’t protest right now but you are in a city where protestors are being arrested PLEASE consider helping out with jail support as protestors are released: http://upagainstthelaw.org/jail-support-and-solidarity/
If that is ALSO out of reach for you but you can afford to do so please donate what you can to your local bail funds - search “my city + bail fund” or if you can’t find something local consider donating to The Bail Project. NOTE: please carefully research who you’re donating to - in chaotic times it’s not uncommon to see fraudulent gofundmes set up to attract donations.
And if you can’t do anything else please, PLEASE, fact-check all posts before you share them on social media. I’m seeing people share posts claiming that George Floyd’s murderer hasn’t been arrested but has just been placed in protective custody and that’s incorrect, not only has he been arrested he’s been charged and the thing to get angry about NOW is the fact that the charges are too likely to be dropped.
Also DO NOT SHARE photos or videos of unmasked protestors.
If you DO go to a protest here are some tips:
consider leaving your phone turned on at home and carrying a prepaid phone to the protest.
cover your face
familiarize yourself with the first aid information in Riot Medicine, particularly in regards to treating tear gas/pepper spray and PARTICULARLY in the recommendation to ONLY treat tear gas/pepper spray with saline and water.
don’t go alone, stay with your group
And other than ALL OF THAT here’s some advice:
YOU are more likely to be the thing that changes your family member or friend or old classmate’s mind about their worldview than anything else. YOU are someone they know and regard well. You are a real human person who they have interacted with and eaten meals with and have a shared history with. Whether they know it or not they value YOUR opinion over nearly anything they’d hear on the news or see on social media because to their monkey brain you, another monkey they are familiar with, are more real than the people on the TV; but that is only true IF you talk to them, and do so in such a way that doesn’t make them shut you out.
If you’re trying to defend the protestors to a friend or family member who is horrified by “how violent and unruly and destructive” the protests are speak to this person kindly. Don’t talk about billionaires and white supremacy and the police state (though these are all VERY important things that we should aim to someday discuss with our loved ones) - talk about compassion, talk about fear. Talk about the fact that some business owners whose buildings were burned aren’t worried about their buildings, they’re worried about justice for their communities and their communities are already helping them to rebuild. Talk about the fact that the protests are nearly uniformly peaceful until police use violence against protestors (and yes, tear gas, pepper spray, and less-lethal rounds are all violence). Talk about the fact that decades of protests against police brutality haven’t seemed to curb police brutality, talk about the fact that what we’ve learned from police wearing body cams is that police turn their body cams off to plant violence and abuse citizens.
There are a lot of impassioned speeches about eradicating the police and restorative justice that I could give but those aren’t going to change my country-music-loving cousin’s mind, those are going to make her think that I’m a crazy extremist. But if I remind my cousin about the time her husband’s friend was charged with a more severe crime than his white companions, or if I point out that as a teacher she works with school resource officers who have contributed to the criminalization of student misbehavior and that doesn’t help kids learn and doesn’t keep them out of jail later, it just puts them in jail now - well, that’s how I can make inroads with that one person.
You have to be tactical about this. You’re not having a knock-down blow-out fight with your uncle for everyone to watch at Thanksgiving so you can make your position clear to the whole family, you’re talking specifically to that ONE friend and tailoring it to their specific interests. Is your buddy a steelworker who’s furious that “the looters just burned down the target for fun”? Does your buddy the steelworker know that Target is a Minnesota company that has aggressively quashed attempts to unionize the workers for decades?
Don’t make this loud, don’t make this public, make this a quiet, one-on-one conversation. Listen to their fears and concerns, counter as calmly as you can, and try to engage their sympathy. Your goal in this conversation is to get them to even SLIGHTLY shift their perspective on police use of force. Your goal is to point out the dozens and dozens examples of peaceful protesters getting pepper sprayed, to bring up clear-cut cases of unarmed people killed by police, to point out that property destruction gets ignored when it’s because a sports team won but gets aggressively condemned when it’s people who *started* a peaceful protest responding to police aggression. Your goal isn’t to change someone’s entire worldview in a single conversation, it is to get them to question ONE thing they’ve staunchly believed.
If you do this well you’ll probably never even know if it worked. Whoever you’re talking to isn’t going to change their mind right then and there, you might both walk away from the conversation frustrated, but maybe the next time they see looters on the news they’ll wonder if it’s actually people looting or if they’re trying to build a barricade because the police attempted to shut down their constitutionally protected protest. Maybe they’ll never bring it up again but maybe they start questioning the validity of all these instances of police violence. Maybe this relative never talks to you again because you pissed them off and called them out (by calling them in) but maybe next year they’re donating to bail funds.
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