#also never over him having three cats who's names are numbers

[eldesperadont]

thinking a lot lately how face champ Despy rn is exactly like i pictured him years ago for an AU where hes face and champ (that was before he ever won the belt)

#thats my dude my guy #also never over him having three cats who's names are numbers #CAUSE I DREW HIM HAVING THREE CATS WITH NUMBERS AS NAMES YEARS BEFORE HE GOT THEM #i also drew him kissing hiromu when will that hap- *gets shot* #my ghost: WELL HE DID KISS OTHER DUDES SO THAT HAPPENED TOO SOMEHOW #percht.txt #(on face despy - like even the design choices i had in mind but never really drew waaahh im a prophet)

[stylesharrys]

reason to stay [mafiarry]

summary: you come across a little something that harry’s been keeping from you.

warnings: mentions of the mafia, descriptions of a gun and violence, swearing

word count: 2,819

a/n: wow, it's been a hot fuckin' minute since I did mob!harry but hey, here it is!! next couple of weeks you guys will also be getting a new mob!harry series, so keep your eyes peeled!!

//

He knows the rules by now. Head down, shoulders high. Let them know you by a name, never by yours.

Harry thought he was slick enough to pull that over your head, too. He should’ve known better. He can’t live two separate lives, can’t keep you in the dark from the main life he lives. He can’t have you believing this fantasy forever.

But you knew, you knew since the beginning something was wrong – there was something he wasn’t telling you.

All the “security” he has to follow you when you want to go out without him, the personal driver, and the random stop-ins from three “friends” in particular. And if that wasn’t enough, the constant phone calls and change of phone numbers were enough to make anyone suspicious.

You trusted him, and never really had a reason not to. You’ve known Harry for years, as far back as you can remember. Even then, he was slightly shady, never giving much information about himself willingly.

But things are different now. You’re moved into his home, riding in his cars. Harry knows your every move, claims there are too many bad people out there, and that he could never live with himself if something happened to you and he couldn’t get to you in time.

Now, staring at the wad of cash that’s been stuffed into the hollow wood of the foot of the bed, all of your suspicions are confirmed. Not a doubt in your mind when your eyes catch glimpse of the silver barrel of a gun peeking from beneath the money.

There’s at least five grand there alone; tied together with elastic bands, and a separate wad wrapped with your hair tie.

From what you’re aware of, it’s not typical of a hotel owner to stash cash and a handgun in the foot of his bed.

You can’t help but chuckle to yourself. Harry has a safe just six feet away in the back of the closet. You know why the gun’s in the foot of the bed – easy access, just in case anything happens.

There’s an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of your stomach, and you can’t quite tell if it’s your gut telling you to run, or simply confirming that you were always right – you always knew there was something else deep down.

Harry’s not supposed to be home for another hour, you don’t know what to do with yourself in the time between.

Do you wait at the table for him when he gets home? Sitting there with the gun and cash laid out with your hands crossed? Do you put everything back and leave the top of the foot of the bed slightly out of place, so he knows that you know?

Or do you just pretend you didn’t see a damn thing?

You can’t live your life in a relationship with someone who keeps an entire lifestyle a secret from you. You can’t be engaged to a man you barely even know.

Harry can’t seriously have thought you wouldn’t find out, right? That someone somehowwouldn’t accidentally split up, or you wouldn’t start asking questions or start snooping for answers?

Because you weren’t snooping – not exactly.

An accidental knock at the foot of the bed when changing the sheets is what uncovered the truth. How pathetic. Not even a big reveal as to the secrets the man you love has been keeping.

Just your own accidental clumsiness.

But nothing is truly an accident, you believe that. Your intuition told you to lift the board and look into it, you could’ve just straightened the board back up, but you didn’t.

Curiosity always kills the cat. But you can’t be sure if there’ll be any satisfaction to bring it back.

//

“I don’t give a fuck if you have to pull his teeth out one by fucking one. Get the answers I want, or you’re the one to pay for Lopez’s fuck up.”

Harry raises a brow, tongue prodding at the inside of his cheek. Tommy never did have any chill when it came to hearing things he didn’t like. It shouldn’t surprise Harry anymore, not after all this time.

“I thought I told you, we’re sweet with the Solados'?”

Tommy turns around, lips pursed with rolling eyes. “So ‘cause we’re sweet with them, they get to walk all over us? I don’t think so. They work the corners, we run the shit. Keep ‘em in their place, no?”

Harry holds his hands up, a chuckle slipping from the side of his mouth and Tommy grins.

“Don’t tell me Y/N’s making you all soft now… just a few years ago, you would’ve threatened worse and cut off half their pay.”

Harry remembers exactly who he was before he met you again, remembers how reckless and money hungry he was. He barely recognizes himself as ever having been that person. Meeting you again made him realize there’s more to life than drugs and money.

“Not going soft in the slightest… though the less you say, the more your threats mean. Might wanna give it a try sometime.”

Tommy scoffs as the car pulls up to a stop outside Harry’s building.

“Kavin, I’ll need you to pick me up at 8:30 tomorrow morning, got a few bits I need to take care of.”

The driver looks up through the rearview mirror as Harry talks, and he nods his head, a timid smile on his face. “No problem, boss.”

Harry turns to Tommy.

“As for you, try to stay out of trouble ‘til morning, please?”

Tommy flips Harry off as he gets out of the car and makes his way inside. Shoulders slumped from exhaustion, Harry’s still beyond excited to get home and see you. To get straight in bed and hear all about your day while your head lays on his chest.

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips as the elevator takes him up to the penthouse. However, Harry doesn’t have to move far into the apartment before he finds you.

Expecting to see you already cozied up in bed, he’s confused to see you sat on the kitchen island in the dim lighting, body adorned in white lace and a pair of black heels.

Harry’s almost certain you’ve never looked so stunning, but he thinks that every damn time he sees you.

He can’t hold back the choke that breaks past his throat, and he can’t hide the tightening tent that begins to form in his fitted trousers. Harry grins sheepishly as he makes his way over.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

You eye him, heart beating heavily in your chest. Unfolding your legs, you spread them open to allow Harry to close the space between you.

You guide his hands to your hips, a hum slipping past your lips.

“I thought seeing as we were doing surprises today, this would be a nice one for you to come home to.”

Your hands slowly cover the expanse of his chest. Feeling and groping the muscles beneath his white shirt. Harry's eyes are too focussed on the way your tits bulge from your bra to look you in the eye, but your words to cause a quirk in his brow.

“And what surprises might those be?”

He’s too in his fucking head, too into your body and the taste of your neck to notice you reach for anything, to even notice you move or shift. You’re going to be his fucking downfall.

“I don’t know,” you hum seductively, keeping your grip tight on the handle, pulling off the safety. “Maybe finding this little thing.”

Harry hears the click as the cold barrel of the gun meets his temple and his entire body stills. He pulls back slightly, eyes cautious as he meets your eyes.

You’re stoic, solid. You’re not about to break for shit.

“Where’d you get that, sweetheart?”

“You tell me, honey.”

Harry doesn’t say a word, doesn’t let his eyes leave yours.

“Did I find it behind the freezer? Or was it at the foot of the bed? Or, maybe I found this one in the tank of the toilet.”

Harry begins to realize you’ve been on what appears to be an Easter hunt today, finding all sorts of his little gems dotted around the house. But what he can’t figure out is why or how you started finding them in the first place.

“Tell me, Harry,” your free hand reaches between his thighs, cupping the bulge that sits heavy. “Why does a hotel owner have four guns hidden in his penthouse, with wads of cash stashed in the walls and floorboards, hm?”

Harry’s mouth grows dry, hands are slightly clammy. He works exceptionally under pressure and knows there’s always a way out, but with this, he isn’t so sure… Harry’s never dealt with this situation, he’s never even anticipated this would happen.

How stupid does he think you are?

“Put the gun down, and we’ll talk.”

Even though you’re the one with a gun to his head, he still speaks with such power and control. You won't budge though, and neither does the gun.

“I’ll put the gun down when you tell me the truth.”

He huffs, but you don’t give him chance to try and worm his way out of it.

“It’s drugs, isn’t it? That’s what’s always blowing up your phone, why Tommy is so secretive when he’s around me… why I can’t go anywhere or do anything without you knowing about it.”

There’s silence from Harry. In all honesty, he’s never seen you like this before and with a gun to his head, he’s not entirely sure how you’ll react if he tries to speak.

“What, did you think you could live this other life and not tell me how you really make your money? Did you seriously think I’d never find out, Harry? Do you think I’m that fucking dumb?”

“No, Y/N. I never told you to protect you! The less you know about this shit, the better. I don’t want you involved in any of it, okay? Now put the fucking gun down and we’ll talk.”

There’s desperation in his eyes but you can’t quite put your finger on what he’s desperate for. Surely he knows you’re no good with a gun, there’s no way you’d shoot him. Maybe it’s desperation that this doesn’t make you get up and leave.

Could he blame you if you did? He’s kept a whole life of his completely secret from you. Does he expect you to just stay and forget about it? Act like everything’s okay?

Nonetheless, despite your inner battle, you lower the gun and take a shaky breath as Harry slowly pinches it from your hand. He puts the safety back on and slides it across the island.

Harry’s eyes never leave yours as he takes off his jacket and rests it around your shoulders. With the chat you’re both about to have, it doesn’t sit right with him that you’re almost completely naked.

That’s when you finally break eye contact and the reality of everything starts to really sync in.

Not only has Harry been living an entire life secret from you, but he’s been living an illegal one. One with drugs and guns, and no doubt blood and pain.

As he leads you to the sofa, you begin to rake your brain for any times he’s ever come home scratched or bruised or bloody. It’s not like you fall short, either. There are a good few instances that pop back into your head.

He always claimed it was a rough night with training, or he and Tommy were fucking about and he clipped him with a black eye. You feel like a fool for ever believing a word that came out of his mouth.

As you’re staring at the coffee table you can’t help but question everything he’s ever said to you, everything he’s ever done. How did he even afford to buy a hotel? Was that with dirty money? And this apartment?

“Babe.”

“Don’t babe me, Harry. Sit down and explain right now before I walk out that door and I never come back.”

He huffs and takes a seat, reaching for your hands but you don’t let him. You won’t let him touch you, not until you know the truth. And even then, maybe not.

“Look, I’m happy to be open and honest with you. But there are some things you can’t know, some things I won’t tell you. To protect you. You have to understand this entire thing is bigger than us, bigger than me and Tommy.”

You raise your eyes to meet him, your face as stoic as you can muster but Harry can see you crumble behind your wavering exterior.

“You know me as Harry, and that’s who I am, who I always will be. But there is another part of me, another life I suppose I live separately. To keep you and my family safe. I’m not just a drug dealer, baby. I work for one of the biggest distributors in London. Tommy and I, we’re two of the most powerful men in the city. We run a gang of 13 corners, we sell big, not small. It’s a dangerous fucking business we work in Y/N, so dangerous I’m known by name never by face. To protect you, to protect my family.”

You blink, trying to take in the information he’s giving you. You figured most yourself, though hearing it come from his mouth? You’re not sure how to take it.

“I got myself in a mess when I was 17, I started working for a local dealer to make back the money I owed. That’s when I met Tommy, we were both in the same boat. After a while, we realized we were pretty good at it, and we got bigger and bigger. Made names for ourselves on the streets, but it came with a price. We lost a lot to get to where we are, Tommy lost his Mum, I lost my Uncle… I’m not prepared to lose you, too. That’s why I kept you out of it.”

Everything starts hitting you a little too hard. It’s too painful to hear Harry confess everything you've already assumed. In the six years you’ve known him, everything feels like a lie, like you don’t actually know him at all.

You’re engaged to a complete stranger. A dangerous stranger no doubt capable of murder, and you can feel your chest begin to sink.

“I can’t be here, I need to go.”

Harry shoots up as quickly as you do, hands gently on your elbows to steady you from making a hasty move.

“Darling, I know it’s a lot to take in but please, just hear me out.”

“Hear you out? Harry, you’ve lied to me for six fucking years. I got engaged to a man I don’t even know and you expect me to sit here and hear you out? This is too much, I can’t be around you right now.”

Panic sets in for Harry, his heart frantic in his chest and he doesn’t know what to do. You do know him, he’s Harry, yourHarry. Even if you can’t see that right now.

“Where are you gonna go? Stay here and I’ll leave, I don’t want you roaming the streets.”

You huff. “I’m going to pack a bag and spend the night at my Mums. You can call Kavin and have him take me if that makes you feel better. I just need to be away from you for a while. I need to think, Harry.”

He doesn’t say a word, just sits back on the sofa while you scurry to the bedroom to change and pack a bag. It feels like you’re in there forever, when really, only a few moments pass.

It takes everything in you not to collapse to the floor in the closet, chest heavy and you struggle to gasp for another breath. You refuse to break, not while you’re here anyway. You need to get out of this apartment, out of Harry’s presence, and think.

When you leave the bedroom, Harry hears and stands again, eyes glued on the overnight bag you’ve only ever packed to spend the weekend away with him.

With a deep sigh, you clear your throat.

“I just need the night to think and wrap my head around this. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Harry nods, swallowing back the lump of a cry that’s fighting its way up his throat.

“Kavin’s downstairs waiting for you.”

You make your way to the elevator, every step an effort for your tired body, and you can’t bring yourself to look back. As you step into the elevator, Harry gets a little closer so he can still see you.

“I love you, baby.” He whimpers out as the doors begin to close.

You look away, eyes closed shut.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harrys styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot

[adventuringblind]

Teach Me Part Two

Max Verstappen x Reader Part One

Genre: Hurt/Comfort with a speck of spice (technically speaking)

Summary: Max teacher his girl about subdrops and helps her through one of her own

Warnings: Softdom Max, mentions to a past toxic relationship, mentions of choking, subdrop, minor insecurity, Implied smut but nothing graphic, Lando is mentioned for like a paragraph because I can

Notes: For @nurse-sainz who has fueled my brainrot to an unhealthy amount

Side Note: My inbox is open and I crave attention... :)

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Max had come to the conclusion early on that she would inevitably hit a subdrop at some point. As much as he would like to make it so she never has one, he knows it's going to happen eventually. It's - unfortunately - hard to predict and often random. 

Crashing out of a subspace too fast, A used safeword, maybe even just too much stimulation. He's had partners be in that lovely place in their heads and fine only to fall from it without grace and send them into a panic. 

“A subdrop? I don’t think I read about those-”

“It’s one of those things that they don’t talk about as much. Hitting a subspace is hard because you have to let go, right? A subdrop is when your mind is stuck between the two. It’s trying to take back control but can’t.” Max pauses the movie they hadn’t been paying attention to. This conversation takes precedence as far as he’s concerned. 

She hums and rubs the side of her face against his arm like she’s a cat. “They sound scary. I’m not sure I want to have one of those.” 

“Just remember that if you ever do, I’ll be right there with you, yes?”

“Yes.”

He smirks at her. The idea had already been planted in his head. “Yes, who?”

She grumbles. A furious shade of red making its way across her cheeks. The honorifics is a relatively recent thing. The effect it has on her has Max cooing; debating if he should ever let her out of his arms again. 

“...Yes sir.” 

“Good girl.” 

~~~♡~~~

Choking had come up a few times in the past. They’d talked about it but not done anything with it. Not since she wasn’t sure. She’d even brought up how her ex (the bastard) had tried to choke her out before she managed to flip them over and bolt to Max’s own room. 

He wasn’t going to push for that. Never something that could be triggering. They’d decided that his hand gently putting pressure on the back of her neck was enough. She liked that and Max liked that she was communicating. 

But sometimes - even that can be enough to bring back memories. He’d been lucky so far to not have triggered anything. Max knows from experience that even movements that are too quick can have an adverse reaction. 

It’s not late, the sun is barely setting over the Monaco sky. Though - he’s not paying attention to the time so it could also be rising. He’d never know the difference. He’s only focused on the mess of a female he has underneath him. 

She’s not formed a coherent string of words since orgasm number three. Only able to squeak out his name alongside little whimpers. It’s safe to say Max is pussy drunk and can’t get enough of her. He’s not satisfied yet, and wants to see how far he can push.

Max isn’t sure which touch triggers it. He’s pressed up against her in most spots leaving it hard to decipher where he ends and she begins. 

He only notices she’s slipped into that awful middle headspace when he pulls back for just a second, intent on picking his pace back up. The confused fear that settles over her expression makes him freeze, patiently assessing the situation. 

Her teeth clatter together, the pain of something evident. The breathing pattern he’d been waiting to even out only gets worse. “Schat, can you take a big breath for me?” He settles the palm of his hand against her rapidly beating heart. His concern only grows when she doesn’t show any signs of hearing him. 

She makes a defensive movement to cover her throat with her own hands, silently pleading with her eyes not to touch her in such a vulnerable location. It dawns on him, that in his own flurry of movements, it’s possible he brushed her neck and set off her emotions.

“I’m going to step away from you for a second so I’m not touching, okay?” Her eyes go wide with panic and he knows she’s probably struggling to comprehend. The sadness of her expression kills him as he detaches. 

Tears prick her eyes the second contact breaks completely. She snatches hold of Max’s own wrist and in a last ditch effort to make him stay, tries to press his fingers around her airway. “Nonono, schat, I know you don’t want that.” When he’s able to hold her gently once more after having resituated, the sobs she’d been biting back finally escape. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe, I would never do something you didn’t want.” 

Max doesn’t grimace when her nails press into his bare skin; when she’s clinging to him for stability. He holds her, hums, helps her to try and steady her breath. 

“Mm’ sorry-” 

“Shh, you’ve nothing to be sorry for. Rest now.” 

~~~♡~~~

Max manages to coax her into sleeping. She’s cute like this, curled up against him with her ear pressed against his chest. He presumes the rhythmic sound of his thudding heart is helping calm her mind. He makes a mental note to invest in some kind of white noise for if (he knows it’ll be a when, but he’s choosing to be optimistic). 

“Max?” Her eyes crack open, only to shut tight again when she yawns. 

“Hello beautiful, how are you feeling?” He tosses his phone aside to give her his full attention. 

“Better - I think. I’m not sure I liked that feeling.”

“I would be concerned if you did, schat.” 

She stretches her limbs out and flops further over the top of him. “Thank you… I was scared I messed up and you were going to leave.” He has to take a deep breath and remember that anger at the man who put these crazy thoughts in her head is no longer able to come close. He made sure of that with a few cryptic messages glued together in newspaper words and Lando’s artistic assistance. 

“You’ve bewitched me! Body and soul… or something-”

“Are you trying to quote Pride and Prejudice?” 

“Is it working?” He’s blushing at his own lame attempt. Victoria would have his head for this later. Problems for future Max. 

She giggles. “Not really - but I’ll give you a pass this time.” 

Max gets her out of bed and into a bath. He makes a show of letting her pout to join her inside win out. He lost that battle before it even started, but she doesn’t need to know that. 

“It’s nice… trusting someone like this.” She relaxes against him, the water now lukewarm and the bubbles having dissipated. 

“You still trust me?” Oops - Max hadn’t meant to let his own insecurity about the ordeal leak out. Oh well…

She tilts her head in confusion. “Why would I not?” 

“It happens sometimes after a drop like that. At least - I’ve heard it can. I figured I was lucky enough that it hadn’t.” 

“I think you’re just good at this. Not like you were trying to hurt me.” She shrugs. “I trust you, Max. You have given me nothing but your undying love and support.” 

“...Now look who’s being sappy!” 

“At least mine is original.” 

“Can you at least pretend that I’ve also given you some really good dick?” 

“Fine! Nothing but your undying devotion to me and some really dick. Happy?”

Max sighs happily and drags her body as close to his as he can manage. “With you? Always.”

#x reader #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula one #max verstappen #lando norris #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen imagine #mv33 x reader #mv #mv1 #mv33 #mv1 x reader #mv33 fic #mv33 imagine #mv33 x you #mv1 x you #mv1 imagine #mv1 fic #redbull #redbull max #redbull racing #max verstappen fluff #redbull f1 #max verstappen 1 #max verstappen 33

[luvring]

UNCONVENTIONAL DATES

gn!reader | gojo, geto, yuta, nobara, itadori

“satoru gojo if you don’t get your ass to figuring out a puzzle i’ll kill you.”

your boyfriend stares at you from the velvet armchair, leg hanging over the side and cheek resting against his knuckles. “aw, baby, relax. we still have so much time.”

“i knew i shouldn’t have trusted you to pick our date.” you huff and turn away from him.

it wasn’t that satoru couldn’t think of a good date idea. he’s brought you to countless places across the city—a roof to stargaze (he crossed his heart and hoped to die if he got you in trouble for it), a hole in the wall cafe with some of the best desserts you’ve ever tried, a vintage store that smelled of old books and sweet coffee, and had a fluffy balinese cat who would lay on its back and stare at customers, waiting to be pet.

but this time, in an escape room where he’s barely grazed the row of evidently suspicious paintings on the wall, and answered “hm, that’s a good question,” or something like it to three of your guesses, you wonder if you should signal the employees through the security cameras to let you, and only you, out of here.

“y’aren’t having fun?” he teases.

you roll your eyes, hard, hoping he could sense it even with your back turned to him. “i have to figure out some curse by a guy named frederick, alone. what do you think?”

and then you hear him stand up, hear the sound of him tapping, shuffling?—you’re not really sure, something, before coming closer.

his steps are slow, purposely louder than usual so that you can hear him travel all the way until he’s right behind you. then satoru, in typical satoru fashion, holds the key to the vault you’ve been trying to get into for five minutes in front of your face, before leaning over your shoulder with a grin. “how about now?”

“top 10 people i’d break up with my boyfriend for?” geto reads out the title of the slideshow before you can.

“hear me out.”

“you know i’m your boyfriend, right?”

“no way, really?” you ask in faux shock before giving him a look. “be quiet and listen, i’m presenting.”

“who you’d break up with me for?”

“number one.” you ignore him and switch slides. suguru doesn’t miss how your lips twitch, wanting to smile at your own cube slide transition you apparently took the time to apply.

“no one,” you say easily. “i love my boyfriend despite how annoying he is, and i would never ever think of breaking up with him. also, if he tried to break up with me, i’d throw up and cry to make him feel guilty and remember all the good times we’ve had and why he’s dating me in the first place.”

your boyfriend in question leans further back into the couch and lets his chin rest in his palm as he hums thoughtfully. “happy to know you’re willing to throw up and cry and beg, but—”

“i didn’t say beg.”

suguru says your name—quietly, smoothly, with an amused lilt at the end despite your slideshow and what he’s about to ask next. “you know i can see there’s 12 more slides, right?”

a beat passes.

he’s still watching you intently as you finally smile.

“of course. so for the real number one—”

“can you just fall over once so i can feel better about myself?” you huff with slightly bent knees, and fingers intertwined with yuta’s while he slowly skates in front of you despite, apparently, never having had the chance to try ice skating before this.

the sun keeps you warm despite the chill as a few other couples skate around the rink—some mirroring you, others faring better.

yuta blinks, and then he lifts his head just enough so you can see how the corner of his mouth twitches past his scarf. “would it really make you feel better?”

“i dunno, maybe. try eating some ice first.”

“okay.”

and before you can say anything, his hands leave yours as he falls onto the ice with an ‘oof!’

“yuta!” his name leaves your lips in panic. the sudden disappearance of support makes your legs wobble, and your skates dig into the ice before you make your way toward him.

your boyfriend groans, his cheeks flushed, though whether from the cold or embarrassment, you’re not sure. you feel guilty for laughing a little when you speak, “i was joking, oh my god, are you okay?”

his hands move instinctively as he goes to push himself up, before he quickly realizes how cold ice is against bare skin. “yeah, ouch—ah, cold, cold! i know—i just thought i’d be better at fake falling.”

he winces as you awkwardly help him up, standing still as you give him a once over and rewrap his scarf around his neck. you joke softly, “you know what? seeing my boyfriend hurt himself didn’t make me feel better. sorry for asking.”

despite the slight ache in his tailbone, yuta manages to laugh. “you know what would make me feel better?”

“what?”

his face, already tinted red, flushes more as he realizes what he’s asked. but it’s too late now, and he probably deserves it—”...a kiss?”

an ad for a vintage market had popped up a few days ago, and nobara had excitedly agreed to go when you sent it to her. (she was slightly less excited at the thought of waking up early to get there first, but the competition, fashion, and “getting to buy rich people’s things” were enough to motivate her.)

you’re pulling at the sleeves of the coat you’ve found when she pops up beside you, flaunting a grin and pair of shades on her face. “do you think i look cool or super pretentious?”

you smile back. “depends on if you think i look cool or super pretentious.”

she taps her chin and hums before looking you up and down, exaggerating the head movement so you can tell despite not being able to really see her eyes.

“want me to spin?” you ask. but before she can even answer, you turn 180° and lift your arms, letting her soak it in. she watches as you walk around the stall, careful not to go too far so it didn’t seem like you were stealing.

“maybe if you were older and lived in a house with four cars or you were gojo, super pretentious.”

the mention of gojo makes you snicker. “...but?”

nobara’s smiling at you when you turn to face her with eyebrows raised. she lifts her hand to shoot you a thumbs up. “you’re not, so i say you look super cool.”

her face suddenly gets serious. “but seriously, what do you think about these shades? cool? pretentious? gojo?”

“what would you do if i said gojo?”

“break up with you.”

“i never took you as a cat person.”

“neither did i, i don’t think i am? but look how cute he is. his name is waffle,” itadori says without looking at you, focused on the fluffy grey cat in his arms.

waffle purrs and rubs his head against yuuji’s chin, who lets out a noise between a whimper and coo in response.

you huff. “coming here with you was a bad idea.”

he gasps. “don’t say that in front of waffle.”

“because now i want to adopt a cat,” you continue, laughing a little at yuuji’s tightened grip around waffle.

he makes a noise of agreement and pouts. “but if we didn’t come, we’d have never met waffle.”

“and porridge?”

“and russell.”

you snicker at the thought of russell—an orange cat in one of the other rooms who was one of those cats that really looked like he didn’t have a thought in his head. maybe because he was orange. “yeah, you know what, fair enough.”

yuuji decides to put waffle back in his kennel, but keeps playing by pulling the pipe cleaner tied to one of the cage bars up and down, getting him to jump up and grab it. “ahh, hi waffle, you’re so cute. i hope whoever adopts you is the best person ever.”

the sight of them playing makes you smile and pull out your phone. turning on your camera and pointing it toward yuuji who tilts his head and laughs, eyes lighting up as his new friend flops onto his back, you think it’s as good a time as any to get a new lockscreen.

surprise.! Get jujutsu kaisen'ed. i've never done this format i had no idea how to divide them so i just. used dividers. hm. i'll figure out if i like that or not later. no i didn't have anyone in mind for geto's slideshow. didn't know who wouldn't be... weird.

@danyisapingu @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist @libbyistired @milkbreadforlife @sirimirihiro @aria-chikage

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo x reader #geto x reader #yuuta x reader #nobara x reader #itadori x reader #jujutsu kaisen x gn reader #.. cant tell if theyre ooc. choosing to not think too hard about it. or at all. amen

[maxybabyy]

It’s barely noon.

Daniel has only been back in Monaco for a handful of hours, burnt out from flying commercial and dressed obnoxiously in bright orange, and still, he’s here.

He pulls up Max’s text one more time and stares sceptically at the building in front of him. But he’s in the right spot, the tiny guy on the map right on top of the address Max had sent.

The lady behind the reception desk looks up when he enters, a polite smile on her lips as she comes forward to greet him, “Bonjour monsieur, comment ca va?”

Daniel’s been here for too long for his French to be as bad as it is, stutters out a, “Ca va bien,” before he switches to English. “Uh, I’m here for my cats?”

“Certainly,” she says, her accent even less pronounced than Charles’. She goes back behind the desk, points out the small bevvy station on her way there. Daniel’s been in formula one for over ten years, has lived in Monaco for most of that, but this fucking cat hotel may still be the fanciest shit he’s been to. “May I ask what cats you are here for?”

Daniel jiggles the handle of the coffeemaker, watches what he hopes is coffee drip into the branded to-go cup. “Uh, Jimmy and Sassy? They’re like, Bengals, with the stripes and shit? If you have two cats that look the same, I reckon it’s probably them,” he says, searches and fails to locate a lid.

The lady coughs, and Daniel decisively doesn’t look at her, cannot – knows she has to be laughing at him. Fucking, disaster step-cat dad that he is; Max would already have them loaded up in the car and be on his way.

“The cats are registered with internal ID numbers, monsieur. I cannot tell you if we have your cats otherwise, my apologies,” she tells him, not unkind.

“Right, yeah. Let me get those for you then,” he says, chuckles. He scrolls back to the cursed message that had started it all, rattles off the IDs for both cats to the lady’s mild surprise.

‘you of course don’t have to, but always the cats like it better when they can be at home.’ He reads back now, wishes he had never ventured into the world of cat sitting and long-term pet boarding.

“I will have someone come out with your cats right away, monsieur Verstappen,” she says, taps away at the computer for a moment before the printer starts to spit out a stack of papers. “If I can just have you sign here, you will be all set.”

Daniel swallows down half of the coffee, scrapes his teeth over his tongue to mask the burn. “’course, I’m not Max, though. Just for filing purposes, I guess.” He says, scribbles his signature on the dotted line. It’s the same fucking signature that he would do on a hat or whatever the fans put in front of him, and it shouldn’t make him feel embarrassed, but it does. “My name’s Daniel. Ricciardo, I should be on the list though.”

The lady smiles, licks her finger to flick a page. “Certainly, monsieur Ricciardo.”

A man in his early twenties comes out, a cat carrier in each arm. He puts the cats on the desk and rattles off a report of their stay these past weeks, the meals they had, how they behaved, their moods.

Daniel tries to listen, makes himself remember enough that Max will be satisfied even if they didn’t also send out an update by mail every three days. The guy doesn’t stop talking, so Daniel nods along, pokes his finger through the grid and watches Sassy swat at it; Jimmy who gives him a polite lick.

Even if their names weren’t printed on the carrier, this would give them away. That at least he knows.

“Great, yeah. Thanks mate,” Daniel says and moves them down to rest by his feet. “Do I need to pay something, or will we get an invoice, or like?”

“Monsieur Verstappen has an account with us, so there is no need for that. He will be notified by mail. But I can offer you a receipt?” She says, and even she sounds unsure about the offer.

“Yeah, that would be good, cheers.”

The printer makes another noise, and one of the cats meows in response, the other quick to echo. She hands it over with a smile, and Daniel stuffs it into his pocket with a quick ‘thanks’ and picks up his cats to leave.

He’s lying on the couch later, Jimmy on his chest and Max’s latest voice message playing over the phone when he finally pulls out the receipt.

“You’re such a fucking spoilt cat, Jims.” He says, kisses his head.

Jimmy meows softly, bumps his chin with his head, so Daniel kisses him again, watches his tail flick in the air.

Yeah, alright, he thinks, maybe they do deserve it.  

#max said cats were at a cat hotel on the team red line stream #and this was the only thing I could think of ... #maxiel #maxiel fic #my fic #my writing #fic

[eeriefeelingsat3amuwu]

In my Kagehina feels, so y’all are getting my headcanons

-they got together in their first year after Kageyama’s second crowning

-this happened in the most Kagehina way possible, where they were walking home together and Kageyama just says ‘I think I want to date you, dumbass’

-Hinata says ‘think I wanna date you too, asshole’ and that’s it, they’re dating now

-sure, the conversation following the confession is a bit more emotionaly charged and Kageyama thanks Hinata for the support, but there’s no more mention to the nature of their relationship

-they continue on in their relationship up to their third year

-no one notices

-this is because nothing changed. Sure, they are physicaly close, but they basicaly fell asleep on each others’ shoulders before this, it’s not like them holding hands is weird

-they don’t really enjoy kissing, because it’s just weird to do so

-until they find out about the horizontal tango in their third year

-this kinda expands their horizons, but they still dislike kissing in public without any followup, because they’re very competetive in everything, including bedroom activities

-Yamaguchi, Yachi and Tsukishima kinda think something is going on, but they’re never sure and it’s driving them insane

-anyone can ask ‘Hinata, is Kageyama your partner?’ And the answer will be ‘yes’ but the answer has been yes for three years now goddamit and surely the two of them couldn’t have been together for THAT long, right????

-their touches border platonic and romantic, but they never really cared about the distinctions, so who even KNOWS

-they spend a shitton of time together, but that’s NORMAL, stil

-chaos in the gc. Their senpais get in on this and it’s a whole bet going on

-Brazil time. Why should they ‘take a break’? Nah, they’re fine, long distance is no problem for either of them as long as they get to talk to each other weekly

-Oh sure, they miss the physical aspects of their relationship, but the way they feel about each other hasn’t changed at all and they both know Hinata is doing this for the both of them

-that being said, when Hinata gets back from Brazil, Kageyama is the one to go pick him up and then doesn’t show up at practice for two days straight because they keep each other ‘occupied’

-they both also cry when they meet at the airport. The only lucky thing is that this was at two in the morning on a Tuesday and Hinata was nowhere near as popular as after his MSBY debut, otherwise Kageyama would’ve probably been followed by at least three journalists and their ‘Welcome home’ kiss would’ve ended up plastered on every single sports magazíne cover the next morning

-as soon as they settle into their new routine, the ‘when will they get together/are they together yet’ game starts on a bigger scale, now including their V-League teammates

-Kageyama comes to practice bruised up? The bruises look natural and could be from a number of other activities he regularly does

-Hinata has scratches on his arms? It’s a well known fact that he’s very fond of cats and has been seen petting a stray one just the day before

-both of them drop out of practice on the same day and are seen together? Turns out Hinata’s sister came to visit and she just LOVES Tobio, really, how could you deny the Hinata smile™️ anything?

-they call each other by their first names? Oh, they’ve known each other for AGES

-they share an apartment sometimes? Tokyo is EXPENSIVE and Tobio lives so close to the Adlers gym, why waste an opportunity to play volleyball together?

-funny thing is that they’re not even the ones comming up with the excuses, it’s just the two sides of the bet arguing over the possibility of their win

-and along comes Japan national team

-they win their first gold together

-and kiss on the olympic court

-afterwards, both of them look so giddy and shocked that EVERYONE assumes they must’ve just gotten together. And really, that has always been the more popular assumption, because the two of them can be DENSE

-read a really funny fic where Kageyama was doing a press conference and he was asked who his favourite spiker he ever played with was and instead of saying someone from his current team, he just said Hinata (they do this constantly)

-so it’s not that big of a surprise. Money is payed out to the assumed winners, there’s a general sense of great ease and everyone congratulates the two of them

-they seem confused about the congratulations, but then again, it has been a very emotional day for the both of them

-well, there’s an afterparty for the national team

-Kageyama and Hinata sit next to each other on one of the couches and the team is huddled around them and everyone is just having a good time

-and then Hinata turns to Kageyama and says ‘Hey, let’s just get married after the games end’

-the party grows quiet

-Kageyama’s response? ‘Oh, sure, works with me’

-you could hear a pin drop

-and the two of them just try to continue on with the conversation that the question interupted

-then Bokuto, bless his heart, and Ushijima, no social awareness extraordinare, congratulate them on their engagement, to which Kagehina smile and thank them and then try to pull them into the conversation

-Atsumu is the one to speak up next

-‘um. Shouyo-kun, I don’t want to be mean or anything. But uh. Don’t you think it would be better to wait with the engagement a bit? I mean, I know you two have known each other for years and all, but then again, you just got together. Wouldn’t it be better to think this through a bit more?’

-…

-Hinata and Kageyama look at each other

-wide eyes, they mouth Atsumu’s sentence back to each other

-then Hinata bursts out into laughter and burries his face in Kageyama’s shirt

-Kageyama snorts and gets redder than the Japan jersey

-everyone else is confused as fuck, that is until Hinata manages to get his breath back

-‘We’ve- uh, hah, we have been together since the first year of highschool, ‘Tsumu- Tobio- To- Tobio. Fuck- we never fucking told anyone’s have we?’ more laughter

-this time it’s Kageyama who loses it and hides his face in Hinata’s shoulder

-‘No, no we did not-‘

-que everyone else losing their shit

-that night causes more chaos in the V-League comunity than anything else in the past decade in the least

-next morning, after a LOT of phonecalls, a post appears on all of Ninja Shouyo’s social media accounts, with only a ‘We’re here’ and a photo of Kagehina, with their olympic jerseys on and showing off their gold medals

-and under all of these, the first comment is always from the underused, almost empty accounts of one Kageyama Tobio, stating ‘can’t wait to marry you’

#eerie’s feelings #fanfiction #kagehina #haikyuu time skip #haikyuu #kageyama tobio #hinata shoyo #hinata shouyou #msby black jackal #haikyuu msby #schweiden adlers #haikyuu adlers #secret relationship #sorta #relationship reveal #engagement #oblivious #haikyuu headcanons #will write this one day

[tma-reader-inserts]

Gerard Keay x Lonely Avatar! Reader

Tw: suicidal thoughts; mentioned character death

XXX

You missed Michael. You missed him so much you ached. You missed his breezy laugh and fun sweaters and how he always made tea for the two of you every morning. You missed your best friend, and his absence weighed on you like a stone.

You never worked together exactly; but you were an assistant to Elias, and you took the same route home every day and he was just so friendly it was hard not spend time with the sweet and sensitive man.

You didn’t have many friends. Hardly any except for Michael. And by extension, you were on friendly terms with Gerard Keay, who worked closely with Micheal and Miss Robinson on several statement cases. You were… intrigued by Gerard. Michael had encouraged you several times to “go for it”, to suck down your cowardice and just asked the attractive book-burner out for drinks; but you were so, so awkward; even more bumbling than Blackwood.

It felt like a miracle Elias hasn’t fired you yet. You assume it’s because you’ve memorized his coffee order and know exactly where to buy the biscuits he enjoys so much. You really didn’t do much in the was of assisting. You help take names and numbers of potential statement givers, arranged for them to meet an archivist or archivist assistance, fetch coffee and teas, and mostly just sit at the desk in front of Elias’s office and look busy. Whatever papers Elias gives you usually are meant for someone else and all you do is have the building’s mail system bring them to the specific person, so you don’t really do any actual filing.

Well, it’s a living.

A small reprieve from the hum drum of your boring work life was Michael and his fun stories.

Now you don’t even have that.

You wore all black for three weeks in mourning when you realized Michael wasn’t coming back. He wasn’t the first assistant to disappear, but it was the first that affected you. Elias and Gertrude said nothing about the change of your attire and attitude.

You also haven’t seen Gerard in ages. You had seen him once in passing as he exited the building while you were walking up to the stairs, smoking heavily with a dark look on his face. You have to assume he knows of Michael, you couldn’t imagine telling him, and Gerard always seems to know about everything that happens in the Institute. He eyed you briefly, in your dark clothes and somber expression, and he gave you a pitying look before walking in the opposite direction.

Not a word was exchanged, and you had felt so utterly and horribly alone since.

The loneliness creeps into your chest cavity, hollows it out and curls in there like a fog on a pier. Michael was gone, Gerard hasn’t been back in so long, and you were so alone.

Elias briefly checks up on you, asks about your morning walk and compliments your new shoes, wishes you a peaceful weekend and lends you an umbrella when it’s storming. But he’s no friend, and you are under no delusions that you are replaceable to him if needed.

You had no family to turn to. No more friends. Even the stray cat you were feeding regrettably was hit by a car. You felt so desolate and solitary.

You used to cry about it frequently. Every night even, especially after Micheal’s disappearance. But now you can’t even bring yourself to shed tears, they dried long ago; now all you have is the cold knowledge that you have nothing, and that nobody wants you.

When Gerard comes to the Institute again, you don’t even see him at first. You used to jump at the chance to even look upon the handsome man with his badly dyed hair and plethora of tattoos, but now when you hear the other people in the office tittering over his arrival, you just… acknowledge he’s there in the building. You don’t feel excitement or dread or anything. You meant nothing to Gerard, why would he visit you? You don’t even leave your desk to see him.

You felt it again, the loneliness. The heavy fog settling in your brain where you just stare ahead and register nothing going on around you, not processing anything, just barely existing.

Maybe you’ll kill your self today, your thoughts muse in the back of your mind. Death must be nice. To not have to worry about anything; not about friends dying or abandoning you, about poor strays on the street, about perfectly distant bosses and co workers…

It’d be easy; people kill themselves all the time. The Institute was a rather tall building. A drop from there would surely end you; and you know where all the key copies were to get access to the roof.

You had to cross a bridge over a river to get to work; on your way home you could easily crawl over the railing if you wanted.

You were suddenly acutely aware of the sleeping pills in your apartment, ones you bought months ago to aid with your insomnia. It’d be like taking a long rest, like going to bed.

Someone was shaking your shoulders, someone was saying your name with a rising pitch of desperateness. You felt your office chair swivel to face a dark mass and warm warm hands cupped your face.

Rough thumbs wiped away at the hot tears settling on your face. When your vision focused, you saw Gerard. Black lipstick, teased hair, tattoos and dark, wide, worried eyes.

He says your name again and it sound like it aches in his throat to say it.

Several long moments were in silence as the book-burner wiped your face with his finger and smoothed your hair down, eyes darting around your figure as if to search for an injury.

Finally, your voice croaked. “Hi…”

A sigh of relief escapes him, he visibly sags. Hands rest on your shoulders heavily. “Hey. You were crying, did something happen?”

A part of you wants to be enraged. Of course something happened. Micheal is probably dead. The cat that sleeps in your apartment all winter is dead. You want to be dead. You want to carve out your insides so your body reflects how you feel and this whole time he wasn’t there-

But you can’t even feel the anger within you anymore. The burning spite inside you is snuffed out by the chill of your indifference of the situation.

“… I’m fine…” you eventually mutter, looking to your desk. The files on the surface were meant to be sent out ages ago, you should really get on that.

Don’t want to leave your replacement a messy desk after all.

You see Gerard flinch in your peripheral. “Listen- I’ve been meaning to talk to you…”

He smells like cigarettes and sweat, and you briefly realized you will miss that smell when you kill yourself. He flinched again.

“It’s really kind of important, um, can we talk about it over drinks? Right after you get off?”

This stalls your brain. Sure, suicide was a sudden desire, but it felt like the right decision to make. Drinks would just put off the inevitable.

Gerard’s hands came back up to your face again, warm and solid. “Please?”

… you’ve never heard Gerard Keay say please before. At least not earnestly. Usually it was sarcastic and in annoyance. The sincerity of the word casts off whatever dregs of the fog were left, and now you were hyper aware of yourself and your surroundings.

Your cheeks were wet; when did you start to cry? And your hands were balled up into fists so tight your knuckles changed colors. Your mouth was incredibly dry and your jaw aches which how tightly you were clenching your teeth.

Gerard’s presence was warm, comforting. It almost make you choke a sob, and you felt very suddenly the desire to spill every thought about your plans to kill yourself to him, and the only thing that stopped you was social graces and the idea that Elias was right behind the door beside you both and could probably hear you.

“Drinks?” You inquire, blinking away the swell of cold tears in your eyes “um, it’s Tuesday, though-“

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. Just-just say you’ll come. I’ll walk with you after work.”

It sounded more like a plan for himself but you were always so weak willed you didn’t have it in yourself to contest him. So you nodded. Gerard smiles and breathes out a long breath, like he was holding it in. “Good.” He concludes, rising up from his crouching position and removing his hand from your face. “Good. I’ll see you at five.”

He almost turns to leave, before staring hard at Elias’s door. Thick rubber soles squeaked slightly as he steps even closer to you. He looks down at you, eyes wide and searching. One of his black painted finer nails prodded at your fist until it was pulled apart and relaxed by his ministrations.

“Hey…” he sighs, “I’m… I am sorry for not coming back to you sooner.”

A small frown pulls at your mouth. You never meant to make Gerard feel guilty. “It’s fine.” You assure, voice soft.

His eyes alight with sadness. “It’s not. It’s not okay, you need to know that.” He stresses, before finally turning and leaving.

As soon as the door to the hallway close, Elias’s door opens.

He says something about a meeting he has tomorrow with a Board member, a Mr. Lukas, and he asks you to be sure to brew strong coffee for the gentleman when he arrives tomorrow.

You nod, and plan on maybe killing yourself later in the week; to make it easier on everyone.

—

Five pm rolls around at a snails pace, but surely and dutifully, Gerard is there at the door to the exit, waiting for you.

He looks… not stressed, just anxious. Like he’s itching to leave the building as soon as you’re within reach. And that’s exactly what he does. The second he saw you his face erupts into a smile and one of his pale, tattooed hands reached out and gently grabs your elbow, pulling through the front door and down the steps to the road as he sings praises about the bar the two of you were going to; nothing too stuffy but not overtly casual, and he promises that the cocktails are unique and the music they play is a far better selection than most.

You knew from his description he was probably taking you to a goth bar; you didn’t really mind. The idea of strong drinks and black painted walls and sad music almost seemed like a comfort to you.

The hand on your elbow migrates down to your wrist, and finally your hand. His grip was sturdy, and he never let your digits go, squeezing slightly whenever he thought the two of you might get separated.

Gerard was always affectionate with you before. Casually playing with your hair whenever he passed by you in the hallway, placing a hand on your shoulder as you laugh along with Michael over the latest office mishaps, even a few times bringing his lips to your knuckles when you handed him a well appreciated cup of tea whenever he was staying late at the Institute. The touching was not foreign territory, but it felt like forever since you’ve been there, like walking through your childhood house after having been moved out for decades.

When you finally make it to the bar, which was in fact a hole in the wall goth bar, Gerard lead you to the darken back corner, and huddled up next to you comfortably, as if you’ve done this a thousand times before, like it was a regular thing. His arm was heavy and warm around your shoulders and he handed you a cocktail menu.

True to his word, they all had fairly spooky names and sounded tasty. You didn’t even really know which to pick, but Gerry points to one that seems like it’ll suit your taste just fine. You almost titter at how well he knows you, before swallowing down your excitement. You could just be an easy read.

You don’t even order for yourself; as soon as the waitress, decked in black and spiked black hair, came over, Gerard ordered for himself and you, his voice lilting and he seemed utterly uninterested in even looking at the woman, rather eyeing you as he moves some hair out of your face as he spoke.

While the drinks were being made, he fusses over you, asking small conversational questions like, “How is Elias treating you?” and, “You’ve been sleeping well, I hope?”

After weeks of no one even asking after your health you flush under the attention, answering each question softly and as briefly as you can surmise, shy and bashful as Gerard’s dark eyes roam your face and observes your mouth every time you opened your lips to answer. He nods along and occasionally his hand rubs your shoulder.

You feel like he’s avoiding the obvious. Avoiding Michael. Maybe the loss was felt as keenly for him as you felt it. Maybe he was just as wrecked by the blond’s disappearance and is trying to find solace and common ground in you.

When the drinks do come, the goth man removes his arm from your shoulders and sets a napkin in front of you, moving your cocktail onto it without prompt. A tense moment of silence settles now that you’re alone again, and Gerard heaves a heavy sigh.

“I never should have left you alone for so long after he left.” He chokes out, eyes searching your face for your reactions to his words. When not a muscle twitches in your expression, Gerard continues. “I was… hurting. I was angry, and it had nothing to do with you but I was acting ugly and I didn’t want you to see that side of me.”

You nod, ready to let forgiveness slip past your lips when he cuts you off.

“It wasn’t okay of me, it’s not alright. I should have never, ever, let you go through that alone.” He looks so regretful, so sorrowful, it made your heart ache; it was one of the strongest emotions you’ve felt in a while. “I- I don’t even know how to make it up to you, for abandoning you like that.”

The earnestness in his voice makes you stall. You’re not the kind of person people seek forgiveness from. You just got walked over and forgotten and you were used to it. To have anyone, especially someone as high up and composed as Gerard, beseech you for amnesty, seemed to fully pull you from whatever slump you’ve been in these past few weeks.

Your face finally emoted; you frowned and your eyebrows drew together in sympathy, and you shouldered the darkly dressed man. “Drinks is a good start, but I don’t want you beating yourself up over it. You’re here now.” You tried really hard to show that all was forgiven. “Just… try not and leave me again for so long?”

It felt silly to even ask, like a child begging their parent to return safely from a business trip.

Gerard looked at you very seriously, one of his hands coming to yours that were clasped in your lap. “Not as long as I live.”

—

The night was a blur, your drinks were consumed and you’re not entirely sure when you kissed Gerard on the cheek in gratitude or when he kissed your shoulder in fondness but somehow the two you ended up just… kissing in the dark alley next to the bar.

Gerard was all consuming; the way he leaned into you, how his thumb ran over the pulse in your wrist with one hand and his other thumb pressed into your jugular. He smelled like cigarettes and old books up close, he felt warm and heavy against you, how he sighed and moaned when you grabbed onto the lapels of his leather duster to pull him in closer. Every time you opened your eyes all you saw was his dark and brooding set gaze at you from behind heavy lids and the sight was too much for your heart to handle so you close them again, Gerard pulling you closer.

Any closer and you’d become one.

Maybe you wouldn’t be so lonely then.

His head ducks down, nosing your neck and the hand the occupied your throat drops down to your waist. A hot tongue licks your pulse and you gasp, eyes rolling in the back of your head. A black jean clad leg slips between yours, and you’re effectively pinned against the brick wall.

“Missed you…” he moaned, teeth scraping against your skin. “Missed seeing you, being around you, talking to you…” a hand snaked around and pulled you closer by the small of your back. “Fuck me for leaving.”

You gasp and groan, and come to the realisation. That Gerard was a talker, and that you were easily swayed by words. You didn’t even realise that Gerard even liked you this way until about twenty minutes ago. How long has he harboured a crush on you? Had he thought of kissing you often? As often as you thought of kissing him?

He said other things, salacious things, directly in you ear as his hands moved up and down your body, hot breath puffing against the shell of your ear as he occasionally dipped down to kiss you or give you love bites along your neck.

You desperately wanted to do something besides just being there, allowing yourself to be kissed and bitten and wooed. You wanted to move, kiss back, make Gerard as flustered as you were; but the skin to skin contact, the affection, the confirmation of attraction overwhelmed you so much you almost choked up.

In fact you did.

A small sob crashed through your lips as tears welled in your eyes.

The sound causes Gerard to straighten up, and he quickly took in the sight of you crying and stepped away from you, concern of his face.

“Shit- I’m sorry.” He rushes out. “Fuck I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry!”

The separation makes you feel cold and lonely again and your stomach swoops in dread because Gerard, beautiful, wonderful Gerard, is now looking at you like some fragile breakable thing and you just can’t stand the idea that you’ve ruined all the ground you covered in the last hour, and that after this he’ll never want to talk to you again. Boys don’t like people who cry when you kiss them.

Fog begins to seep into the alley, coming off from the street and the dead end a few yards away from you. You don’t try to comprehend how fog just manifested from no where, you just sob again because Gerard was going to shun you out for being too damn weird and unapproachable.

You babbled apologies, heart clenching, trying to verbalise that you were fine, that he didn’t do anything wrong, just that you were fucked up about everything and he should probably just ignore you forever after this.

The fog became thicker and you shiver at the coldness it brings. You sob again, hiding your face in your hands so you can stop looking at the man’s beautiful and worried face.

God, you wished that the wall would swallow you up entirely; you wished you could just disappear and stop being such a nuisance; you should’ve just gone home and killed yourself.

So a brief second, the sound of the air about you had changed. The music leaking through the wall stopped, cars were no longer passing by the mouth of the alley, you didn’t hear the wind shake the plastic lid to the dumpster, you even stopped hearing Gerard’s breath in front of you. The silence was deafening, frightening. For that second, you felt utterly, terribly alone. Like you were the only person in the entire world.

And just as soon as the sounds of the world were gone, they were back. Cars hitting the puddle on the road, early aught goth music seeping through the brick, and Gerard saying your name with desperation.

Warm warm hands clasp your shoulders and you finally peer through your fingers to see the man, lipstick smudged and hair frizzy from the fog. He eyes looked wild, fearful, and he gripped your person so tightly like a life line, like you’d runaway if he let go.

Gerard says your name very lowly. And your sobbing ceased at his tone. Oh god, he was going to yell at you or something, you were certain. He was going to call you a freak and that he never should have even bothered with you in the first place-

“You need to breathe.” He commands. “Look at me, and breathe; be here with me right now, get out of your head.”

Your eyes dart wildly around the alley, not wanting to meet his gaze. God, why couldn’t just be normal for once-

A small pang of pain snapped across your brow, right between your eyes.

You look ludicrously to Gerard, eyes moist from tear and voice shaking from crying. “Did you just flick me?” You warbled.

“Yes.” He admits readily. “Now, calm down.”

His word sounded normal but felt… staticky in your ears. Like tv fuzz was playing just under his voice.

Almost instantly your breathing evened out and you no longer felt the desire to cry; your mind wasn’t filled with self-hateful thought but now just focused on Gerard, who was watching you carefully.

Reaching into the pocket of his duster, he pulls out handkerchief, and wipes at your face, sighing. He looked expressionless, and you feared the worse.

“I’m… I’m not great at this.” He says softly, stowing the cloth back into his coat. “I always go too fast, I’m told, It’s just-“ he screws his lips together as he thinks. “I- I feel like if I left you alone for too long, you’d forget about me, and I just wanted to make sure you didn’t think I’ve lost interest in you, I didn’t even think that I’d, well, overwhelm you like I did.”

You swallow thickly, considering his words.

“I never knew you were interested in me.” Was all you can say.

Gerard sighs. “Yeah, I’m piecing that together now.” He winces. “I had it in my head that this was a long time coming for both of us, I never stop to think that I might be surprising you with my sudden infatuation. I’m sorry.”

Your mouth is already opening to forgive him when he silences you with a cool look.

“I… must’ve freaked you out pretty badly, huh?” He questions, moving closer to you, but refraining from touching you again.

“It’s not that you freaked me out,” you’re quick to answer, “it’s just… yeah, it came out of nowhere to me.” He looks down casted and you wait a moment before speaking again. “I like you so much, Gerry.” You confess, voice creaking with emotion. “I’ve just been so lonely, and it’s hard for me to think that you’d like me too.”

He looks to you, sympathetic. And he nods to himself before extending one hand to yours, gently grasping your fingers.

“How about we do this a little more properly?” He suggests. “Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

You almost laugh at how hopeful he looks, like you would say no.

The idea of dinner was nice, but the thought of going back to your empty apartment scares you now. Being alone again scares you; the idea of someone not watching you scares you because what if you get lost in your own head again and this time the silence wouldn’t disappear after a second.

“Tonight?” You ask, stomach twisting. It’s wasn’t exactly early evening any more, by all rights he could deny you.

He nods, decisively and eagerly. “My place?” He suggests.

A smile fights its way across your face. “Scary movies too?”

Highly amused, Gerard smiles, and pretends to think for a moment. “Well, if we do that, you might be too scared to go home by yourself.” He reasons.

“Sounds like I’ll need to sleep over, then.”

“Brilliant.”

#gerard keay #gerry keay #Gerard Keay x reader #Gerry Keay x reader #tma #the magnus archives

[marzgurl]

Hi there, @katkit-42 , just saw your tags and thought, actually, that's not a bad thing to elaborate upon.

This is another kinda long post, which I think most people should read, too, but I'll be kind and put the bulk of this behind a cut here. Please do take the time to open it up and read it, though.

The real answer is, this whole experience has been me balancing out being mortified by a lot of the things that have happened to me with the fact that everybody involved in the whole thing has also been a complete and utter moron. Any time I even slightly start to get scared, I have to remind myself (or even have my husband remind me) that these are the absolute stupidest people we're talking about, none of whom are wholly capable of completing something so horrific, no matter how serious about it they might be.

I hadn't said it in the previous longpost, but in 2019, it was very clear that Vic had intended to sue me along with Monica, Jamie, Ron, and Funimation (although that never happened). I had received an E-mail copy of a letter of preservation from Vic's very, very stupid lawyers. I'll go ahead and share that here.

It was moronic for a number of reasons. One, I was told it was sent to two different E-mail addresses I have, one of which never arrived. Two, it's written REALLY badly. Three, it supposedly was also delivered via certified mail. Here's the problem: they mailed it to an address in Inglewood, California.

I have never lived in Inglewood, California.

But I know why they THOUGHT I did. Because in 2018, while walking from where I was living to my car to go to work, I got mugged! I had just recently moved and had been filling out paperwork for new jobs and things, and the bag they took still had my social security card, ID, and even my passport in it, which somebody later used to steal my identity. I remember the cops calling me back in a week or two after my mugging asking me questions because they believed they'd found people associated with who mugged me, and they asked me if I'd ever lived at an Inglewood address, and I told them no, and they were like, "Okay, great, pretty sure we know exactly where they are, thanks." So, I hope the guys who mugged me enjoyed having my identity and receiving a letter in the mail saying they were possibly gonna get sued. Thanks for taking one for me, muggers.

I mention this to say Vic has had me in his sights for a LONG time. A good four and a half years now at this point. Although I'm not the one that had any stories of him assaulting me, I was the one who made sure that people could SEE the stories of other people telling THEIR stories, and he HATES that. Clearly, he hates that a LOT.

Vic has vaguely mentioned me NUMEROUS times on his livestreams, saying, "I'm not gonna name names," but clearly intending everybody to know it's me he's talking about. In 2022, he referenced how I have a donation button on my Twitch channel and in the past have occasionally had drives to help me make ends meet. This is despite the fact that my husband and I were both working full time, but life in Los Angeles is hard. Despite this, Vic has this to say:

"These are people who start crowdfunding campaigns to pay their bills. What does that tell you about them? These are losers, everybody. These are people that are for whatever reason so disgusted with their lives--so unhappy with their lives, and instead of, like, working or going out there and, you know--and building something or creating something, they want to sit at home on their computer and look for ways to trash me an other people they don't like. And then they ask you to give them money to pay their bills. Pathetic. Pathetic. *weird snarl* Anyway--"

I feel like a donation bar isn't a "crowdfunding campaign", but we don't have to nitpick here. Vic has also expressed though private E-mails with various individuals that he believes I used crowdfunding to pay for a "cat funeral", which he also found to be distasteful. So, this was clearly a jab at me, but he got the details of it wrong. In 2019, my 14-year-old cat Siren was very sick. I was trying to get her healthcare and wasn't sure how I was going to pay for it. My friend--NOT ME, SOMEONE ELSE ENTIRELY--asked me if it was okay if THEY set up a GoFundMe to help me find a way to save my cat. THEY created the GoFundMe, and some people donated, and we did all we could to save Siren before it was clear that she was too far gone, and we lost her. We did NOT raise funds to have a funeral for her. Not in the slightest. The fact that this is what Vic is telling people is disgusting, and cruel to the idea of somebody who has ever had to deal with the loss of a beloved family member. On top of this, if you have ever struggled to make ends meet, let's not mince words here--Vic thinks you are "pathetic". He thinks if you don't make money, you just aren't working hard enough (even if it turns out you and your family all work full-time and take side gigs just to cover everything). Of course, he also seemed to believe that I didn't have a job at all (a long-running conspiracy theory among his fans, just because they couldn't figure out who my employer was), when I was providing hard evidence of being actively credited for my work as a subtitle and closed caption editor in the anime industry (the very same anime industry Vic was kicked out of).

But it's weird that he thinks you're a loser if you crowdfund to pay your bills! Is that not precisely how you managed to sue the very women you assaulted, Vic? To this day, the "Vic Kicks Back" GoFundMe is still open, and has raised nearly $300,000 dollars--a significantly higher amount than anything I've ever earned via Twitch donations.

In May of this year (which is exactly when Farah was ramping up her online harassment campaign against me), Vic once again vaguely talked about me, but got all the details wrong yet again. Since I can only embed one video, I'll link to this second clip here, which someone else has uploaded to Twitter.

Everybody knows Vic means me when he says that prior to 2019 I only had about 800 followers and now have more like 18,000, all because I was talking about him. Which he's very much over-inflating. I'd already had several years of a career of being an online content creator. By 2019 I had 16,000 followers. I've had my account for something like 14 years. I'm now over 19,000, pushing 20,000. That growth from 2019 to 2023 seems relatively normal to me. It was a very gradual growth that honestly doesn't look all that much different from the growth I'd had since 2009. Even one glance at Social Blade will confirm this is true.

He also keeps saying we've never met (such as in the video clip linked above). But we have! We very much have! I have video of myself--video from EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO--walking up to Vic with a camcorder and him talking directly to me. Feel free to go and watch it for yourself. You can hear my voice and everything!

AND SO! I say all this to say that I have long been aware of how much Vic Mignogna hates me. Vic Mignogna HATES ME SO. SO. SO. FUCKING. MUCH. He has done everything in his power to belittle and discredit me as somebody so much smaller and weaker and completely different from who I actually am, deliberately lying about facts of my life that I can actively prove false at any given moment with a plethora of receipts.

But you wanna hear the real eye-opening thing? In April of this year, just before Farah started going on the attack, Vic was on his livestream yet again making a very ominous statement. Once again, I link directly to it here since I can't embed it for you.

"I'm already in the middle of looking into some very aggressive retaliation and resources to deal with that."

Now, at the time, we all just thought he meant he was FINALLY gonna pursue a lawsuit against me, which, let's go bro, I'm fuckin' ready to go any time, man. But as it turns out, this sure does line up a whole lot more with the timing of Vic's Red Lobster dinner conversation with Farah about starting a cyber warfare campaign against me, on top of maybe possibly probably murder!?!?!? We know that Farah started her cyber warfare just later that very same month, so that sure sounds like convenient timing to me!

My husband and I had joked for a long, long time, like, "You know, he hates me SO damn much. You think he wants me dead?" And it was always kind of a, "Haha, yeah, we're joking, but what if for real?" And then when Farah started E-mailing me and telling me it was probably very real, I mean... yeah, katkit, that did shake me for a bit. I got the E-mail from Farah while my husband was at work, and it stopped my productivity for the day dead in its tracks. Even though it was clear that they had seriously overlooked really obvious facts (like the fact that I was literally not even going to be in the same state as Anime Expo, the event where Vic wanted me hurt), the fact that he wanted me hurt at all was concerning. Also, it was concerning to me that, if Vic at all stopped being a complete and utter fucking moron and realized I'd VERY PUBLICLY already been announced as a guest at a convention in Texas that very same weekend, it might actually be EASIER for him to have someone come to that event and hurt me, because Vic also still lives in Texas. He himself used to live in Houston, where the event was taking place, and likely still had connections there. Delta H Con is really little, without a lot of security. There was only one possible hotel for me to stay in. I was scheduled for panels and to be at my table all day, every day. Where I was going to be at all times was easily tracked for the entire weekend. To that extent, yes, I was very scared.

In fact, over that first weekend of July, I was very prepared to die.

I started trying to spend more time with my husband, trying to be more conscious of how I spoke or reacted to little things, just in general trying to be nicer and more loving. I started spending more time loving on my two cats who I love very dearly, wondering if I only had a limited time left with them. I started preparing folders of information I wanted to make sure my husband had if for some reason I didn't come back from Houston alive.

In the end, obviously, none of that was necessary. Though I guess I can't say that it was in any way a bad thing to spend more time focusing on and loving my family.

Ultimately, I guess I was saved by the stranger who sent me all those screenshots from Farah's Discord server. Surely, they have no idea what they did. To that person, I thank them. I had no idea it was going to save me, either. Had I not had those screenshots to post online and knock Farah loose from her war path, she might have continued to pursue me until she had something she really could have done to harm me for real.

Now, that's just disrupted that specific plan. Whether Vic will continue to want to pursue my death in some other way, I have no idea. I guess I am a little bit more on guard now than I was before. But also, I know there's only so much I can do. All I can do is just keep going and pretending there isn't this weird dude with a life that he could totally control all on his own and live in peace but instead wants his ability to prey on young women so badly that he would literally kill a woman to be able to continue to get away with doing it.

For right now, though, I'm mostly okay. I'm continuing to do my work, I'm going to see a movie tonight that I had a hand in localizing, and I'm feeling grateful for that success. Thank you for checking in on me. It's very kind of you. I hope you're doing well out there for yourself, too.

#anime #vic mignogna #assault #cheating #cw #death threats #harassment #voice actor #youtube #murder plot #update #updates

[guav]

ᥫ᭡ for mikey, kazutora, and shinichiro,

WHY NOT ME?

tokyo revengers characters + unrequited love

⚠︎ angst! and really really depressing thoughts in some! please proceed with caution. also, they're all set in bonten timeline except for shinichiro bc. :skull:

⠀◉⠀SANO MANJIRO

the love he can't have

it’s quiet in the entirety of bonten’s headquarters for once.

the brothers had long-since left to check on one of their clubs, more to find someone to warm their bed than to oversee transactions. mochi clocked out soon after, followed by sanzu with a glock in his hand and his car’s keys in the other. naturally, takeomi trailed after his narcotic brother, a wave for goodnight as he departed. lastly, kakucho called it a night following mikey’s permission, ever the subordinate offering his boss a ride home.

only the treasurer and number one remained in the building.

a simple glance at his calendar made mikey’s stomach churn. out of nervousness? dread? he’ll never know. the date ridiculed him from its place on the wall, february twenty-ninth. it’s a leap year, meaning at around three in the morning, when everyone’s left, kokonoi knocks on his door four times.

laptop and manila folder tucked under one arm, a bottle of wine on the other.

mikey doesn’t bother to greet his executive. he never does on nights like these. nights where phantoms dig around his ribcage for whatever semblance of a heart he’s got left. february twenty-ninth, the date on which kokonoi and manjiro do a little digging into their past regrets.

“seems ryuguji owns the bike shop now, they both work with him now.” kokonoi takes a seat, busying himself with opening the bottle of liquor. “would’ve never guessed they were interested in working as a mechanic.”

you never were. in fact, mikey can recall endless afternoons where you’d whine over whatever the fuck a muffler was. the only time your interest aligned with tuning his bike was to brand the manji symbol on it. 

artistic doesn’t line up with engineer, but neither do his past aspirations and the tattoo on the back of his head. you reap what you sow.

mikey turned to face kokonoi, exhausted stare settling on the folder. a brief thought crosses his mind, something about cats and their unfortunate deaths when indulging in curiosity. too bad he cared too little. manjiro made a move to open the folder, but was stopped by another hand. hajime slid him a glass of wine—maybe curiosity killed the cat, maybe the cat just needed a drink.

“inupi’s name is on the lease along with ryuguji’s,” had he had a heart, mikey would empathize with the burning ache seishu’s name left on koko’s mouth. one finger taps the pictures inside the folder. it's you, dash of grease adorning your cheek. “they aren’t formally employed though, i checked the records.”

mikey stared at the close-up images inside the folder, golden ring on your finger blinding him enough to drown out the treasurer's words.

twelve years ago, mikey made an oath to himself. a promise to safeguard the future of everyone he’s ever loved and cared for. twelve years ago, mikey also gave up on the only person who’s managed to quell the murk lurking within. around a hundred and forty-four months have passed since sano manjiro gave up on his other half.

shinichiro would ruffle his hair, of all people he would know there’s always more fish in the sea. emma would call the eldest sano stupid. true love is prized—meant to be, despite the hardships. 

both of his siblings could argue endlessly over love and whether it’s best to chase after it or move on. yet, surprisingly, it was manjiro who knew the best out of the three.

he couldn’t be selfish, not when he chose to pave this path himself. not when you cried, screamed in absolute terror the day he pummeled every single ex-toman member. not when that fateful evening, mikey saw you flinch away from him, in fear you were next.

be as it may, it hurts. twists his organs and drowns his trachea with a knot of flowers. it hurts because he has tokyo within his palm (probably a few other cities in his wallet, too), and yet he can’t have who he truly desires. 

why can’t he just have one thing?

sano manjiro was a wretched criminal with a bleeding heart. daffodil chokehold, never-ending february. 

the next picture in the folder made his void of a mind stop for a moment. subsequent, mikey finally nursed the glass to his lips, sipping domaine romanée conti’s finest glasses of wine. once, twice, thrice, until the bottle was no more.

he can’t be selfish to allow himself to love, he reflects while closing the folder. and it’s okay, because you and kenchin had cute kids anyway.

⠀◉⠀HANEMIYA KAZUTORA

the love he allows to wither and shrivel

"you're unbelievable, way to ditch last minute.” he doesn’t miss the whispered asshole that slips past your lips when you end the call. kazutora flicks ash off his cigarette, wide gaze lost on your figure.

observing, scrutinizing, analyzing—it’s all in the syllabus of his day-to-day. every little gesture of yours is a buoy kazutora holds dear. months of pining have granted him enough knowledge to know you’re not actually mad at chifuyu, dead man who just skipped on movie night with the two of you. he knows you’re anxious, if the fiddling with your phone case is anything to go by. breathing patterns, foot taps—there’s something on your mind.

“sometimes i get the feeling chifuyu does this on purpose,” as you speak, kazutora wonders if your voice is anything but a symphony. “leaving us alone ‘n that.”

he knows that’s always been chifuyu’s intention. so do you.

truthfully, hanemiya kazutora is madly in love with you. the shine you exude when there’s a new kitten to nurse, the grin that stretches your face when you’re drunk and telling an awful joke. infatuation, obsession, no word will ever truly capture how he feels.

you’re oxygen for a man who’s been breathing methane his entire life. forbidden fruit, temptation in the flesh.

“‘tora,” god, he wants nothing more than to be the only man who gets to hear his name reverb in your voice. “we can still watch those shitty blockbusters, it’d just be us though.” alone, you purposely forget to add.

when your eyes meet his, kazutora’s breathing pauses. his smoke keeps burning, time doesn’t halt. “sounds like a plan?”

 the cigarette meets his lips for a long drag. kazutora is madly in love with you, and for that same reason, he swore to never tell you.

everything about yourself equals heaven on earth; lips that can express so much with a simple twist and grin, touch so familiar and comforting you might as well be his home; gaze ever-so loving.

… but he can see his reflection in your eyes. inevitably, every single time you grip his arm for balance, or tuck stray hair behind his ears, everything you encompass becomes corrupt. hanemiya kazutora is evil, poison for your soul.

his hands weigh two lives, yours are eros incarnate. whatever salvation you have to offer isn't something he deserves. not now, not ever.

so kazutora does what he knows best. eternal solitude tastes salty, like sumberging into the very trenches of the ocean each time the bad thoughts win. bound by chains of sano ichor, cuffs of baji. evil forever sealed to not hurt anyone else ever again. an apologetic smile is the best he can offer without overstepping his own punishment. “sorry, forgot i had plans with hanagaki.”

you visibly deflate. kazutora is a liar. “have fun third wheeling his dinner date, today’s his anniversary with tachibana.”

sharpened diction barely nick kazutora’s heart. he can live with you hating him as long as there’s a happy ending for you. between white and gray lies, the cost of preserving your innocence is worth every trial; every frown he wants to wipe to save you from early wrinkles; every pout he can only wish to kiss away.

ash gathers on his smoke again. it’s okay to break your heart mercilessly than to subject you to losing it entirely by his side. he flicks it away, nescient for the flares it sends flying. 

a stray spark landing on your skin is collateral damage you’re too familiar with. no longer is there a need to hiss in pain, or even let kazutora know he’s hurting you in more ways than one. you’ve played this game.

not an admission of guilt, nor an apology. simply silence. years of putting up with the dual-colored enigma have taught you better than to blow up and light the sky with endless quarrel. rather, you burn, slowly. smolder the same way a long-forgotten candle can’t go out without a final blow. it hurts.

it hurts because when it’s just the two of you, hanemiya kazutora treats you like a stranger. eats away at your soul, burns the endless cigarette that’s become your friendship.

you turn to look at kazutora, wondering for a moment how fate could be ever-so cruel to hand someone like him your devotion, heart, and unrequited affection. do you not deserve love, too?

“whatever.” 

he doesn’t protest when you rip the smoke from his fingers, or when you take it with you. he  doesn’t lament when you walk away in silence, leaving only the tragedy that’s become of his mind to fend for itself in the dead of night. 

kazutora can only hope, in his next life, he finds you before his torment finds him again.

⠀◉⠀SANO SHINICHIRO

the love that gets turned down

“shin-nii, are you a loser?” izana grimaced at the wrench barely missing his older brother’s foot. it’s pure curiosity which formulates the question. izana would never think anything ill of shinichiro, but word has it sano shinichiro is a hopeless lovefool.

word spread by you, ever the loving instigator. “look at him ‘zana, take a good look and tell me he isn't.”

the fact his own sibling laughs at your joke stabs a knife on his back. betrayed by both people he holds impossibly dear in his heart, such a tragedy. shinichiro scoffs, “i’m not, don’t let this asshole fill your head with lies.”

his poor excuse of a defense only sends the duo into another spiral of giggles, mocking both his stuttering and pink shade of embarrassment. it’s a domestic scene; you’re putting together screws and bolts for some repair shinichiro asked for your help with, and izana is sitting on some stray tire inside the shop. sure, you’re both pointing fingers at every one of his mishaps, but it’s still a nice evening in the repair shop.

(there’s no such thing he needs your help with, he just wants your presence next to him—each piece you assemble will be extra work to disassemble when you’re gone.)

both your careless smiles are gifts he’d fight tooth and nail for. shinichiro takes one last drag from his smoke before putting it out. “y’know, it’s a little unfair to poke fun at something you could very well fix.”

your giggles briefly simmer to make way for his remark. “what are you even talking about?”

with his signature grin, shinichiro turns to you. there’s an inevitable sense of dread when you see it. back when he’d still bear the cross as captain of the black dragons, the smile would only mean one of two things: one, he was about to charge in without a second thought of his inept battle skills, or two, shinichiro sano was about to say the most stupid of things.

“seriously, what's stopped us this entire time?” sweat and elbow grease frame his face until his arm comes to wipe them off. he’s dumb, you think, now his arm clads the very same stains. “let me take you on a date and prove i’m not just some loser.”

the knot in your throat recoils. your movements halt.

endless nights you’ve spent by his side. not in bed or merging into the other, but driving, extending your arms as if the stars would come closer and kiss your fingertips—existing in each other��s company. shinichiro is a great friend, from the way his heart always has spare room for everyone he meets, to the smell of tobacco that has long-since burnt the word love in your mind. it makes your stomach turn and coil in itself. makes you sick.

“say, izana,” your movements return to their previous pace. assembling mindlessly, over and over again. it’s a vicious cycle. “why dontcha fetch us some of those buns you like so much?”

both sano brothers stare as if a second head had sprouted from your shoulder. izana is the first to question your sudden craving, “like, right now?”

you waste no time tossing the kid your motorcycle’s keys, “knock yourself out.”

there’s no missing the stars in izana’s eyes as he bolts out the shop. once upon a time he would ask shinichiro for permission before going out, especially when you’d ask him for something. now you hold the same authority as his older brother—as if you’re already part of his small family. silence overtakes everything within the walls as izana’s footsteps patter further away.

shinichiro feels small under your eyes. “what’s wrong?”

how quickly your mood turns sour. the power this man has over you is a little concerning. you don’t stare in anger or disgust—crestfallen, heart gutted while still beating. “did you mean it?”

shinichiro is grateful his mind worked faster than his tongue this time around. a question of what you’re referring to quickly dies before it’s voiced. he retraces steps, movements, words, any clue as to what could have disrupted the haven within the shop. “the date thing?”

your silence answers his question. shinichiro takes a deep breath, “yeah, yeah i did.”

he hates the way your shoulders slump. he absolutely despises the ragged sigh that slips past your mouth. 

had he done something wrong?

“i thought we had a good thing, shin.” memories of shibuya at its most vulnerable hours, empty streets, distant lights blurring into comets from shinichiro’s bike. the way one hand would sneak to caress yours during red lights. “why’d you have to go ruin it?”

shinichiro can feel the strings tugging at his heart. it’s a familiar sensation when it comes to rejection, but never had they been so harsh. shinichiro stays silent.

“come,” you ask of him, and he obeys like you’re holding his heart in your very own hand. in a way you are. shinichiro walks the tightrope, pulse quickening under your unforgiving stare. “closer.”

for a brief moment warmth equals love. your hand cups his cheek and it’s the most comforting heat he’s felt in his life. white noise fills his ears at each of your breaths, he’s close enough to feel their warmth, too. it’s not long until it evolves into an uncomfortable burning, nothing about your frown equals love.

“nineteen times i’ve mended my heart watching you run from girl to girl, today makes the twentieth.” you trace figures on his face, no longer able to meet his coal eyes. not when they’re looking for answers, not when there’s heartbreak and confusion in them. “you swing and miss, then forget the next week.”

shinichiro wants to protest. they’re not the same as you. it’s different, he swears it’s different. a finger to his lips hush every thought he wants to voice. any defense is repealed.

“shinichiro, how long until you tire of me, too?”

“i won't-” he feels helpless as everything falls apart. “it’s not like that, i really do like you.” 

you hum. shinichiro is a hopeless fool when it comes to love, and it hurts you’re next on his list. from strangers, to companions, to friends who hold hands and whisper secrets under the stars, to a faceless crush. 

“i think i loved you yesterday,” you breathe the words, only for his ears to hear like a confession. “i don’t know about today, or tomorrow.” or ever again.

his eyebrows furrow. shinichiro can’t fight when you slip away, cheek already missing your touch. everything crumbles, all from a mindless declaration. he wonders how it all went wrong, wonders how something so mundane in his head could equal such anguish for you.

sano shinichiro wonders if he loved you the same way you loved him. 

⠀⠀⠀⠀navi.⠀＆⠀m.list⠀＆⠀send me an ask!

#i heard a sad song and made it all of their problems #mikey x reader #kazutora x reader #shinichiro x reader #manjiro x reader #tr x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #manjiro sano #kazutora hanemiya #shinichiro sano #mikey #ROGUEL1KE #tokyo revengers #tokyorev x reader

[laceswan]

Shinsou Hitoshi x ballerina!reader Headcannons

Just headcannons really, fluff, not proofread

I honestly might just make mha boys x ballerina!reader a series

“Ballerina” implies fem! btw

(This y/n is largely based on my own story/journey with ballet)

It was maybe a week after the entrance exams, and Shinsou was feeling pretty down about himself. He’d dreamed for so long about proving himself in that exam, making it to the hero course, finally taking real steps toward that lofty goal of his.

He went to a cat cafe one afternoon, just to relax, get out of his own head for a bit. Everything was plush and comfortable inside. Cats were practically everywhere, but one seemed to be calling his name. A slim black cat with green eyes was directly across the room, lying on a couch next to someone his age. Not one to resist the urge to pet a cat, he walked over.

After a little bit of mutually petting the cat, she spoke up and introduced herself. They became friends that day, exchanging numbers when the reserved hour at the cafe was up.

Shinsou felt he could really relate to her. Her story was just like his, in so many ways. Over time he learned that that she was a ballet dancer, and very new to it as well. Most people start when they’re toddlers, and because of that she had a lot of catching up to do. Apparently, people had also told her to just give up, that it was too late for her to start dancing.

He started falling for her when they were sitting in a park, just chatting. She was telling him about a weekend intensive she had just done. It was for adult beginners, she was the only teen there. Some of them were experienced, some of them arthritic, some of them just as new to this as she was. They were learning a step across the floor, and everyone seemed to be getting it. Something about it was tripping her up, and she couldn’t seem to get it right. And as she felt the shame of having to walk while everyone else danced until she could join back in, as shitty as it felt, there was this burning part of her that still wanted to keep going, to get it right, to keep dancing.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something so much.”

Shinsou was catching feelings after that. She was so passionate, so driven, just like him. Like a kindred spirit. He knew exactly what she was talking about, that burning in your chest that never lets you give up. Even after all that he went through, all that people said about his quirk, never once did he want to give up, never once did he lose sight of that goal of being a hero.

As similar as they were, there was one major difference. Both of them were in highly competitive worlds, and Shinsou recognized that. He was willing to outshine, surpass, or replace whoever he needed to. Friends were not a necessity to him on the road to being a hero. (Y/n) was quite the opposite. She saw no reason why she couldn’t be friends with the people around her. She wanted to learn from them, make connections. She wanted to belong.

People were actually quite kind to Shinsou in the hero course. Save for a couple of assholes, most were quite welcoming. Even then, his paranoia still kept him cold. He did eventually make friends, but majority of the time he was distant, preferring not to get close to his competition.

(Y/n) tried to be friends with the other dancers. Some of them were sweet, specifically the younger ones she was forced to dance with, being at a lower level. But the ones her age, the ones who were on pointe already and had been dancing since they were three years old, they were mean. It was never outright, never overt, but the venom in their voices was undeniable. There was judgement, gatekeeping, eventual jealousy. She never really found that belonging. And still, that never stopped her from dancing. Shinsou admired that in her.

They trained together. Exercising together was quite common, though the movements were quite different. Shinsou just wanted to generally get stronger, while (y/n) was specifically focused on her core and lower body. Especially her feet. After they had been training together for a while, Shinsou started pulling her feet. She taught him exactly where to put his fingered and how to pull and then push down. On the other hand, she did everything she could to help him train. Often that just meant telling him that she would take him to a cat cafe if he finished the set.

Shinsou fell first. His pining was relaxed, he did exactly act on his newfound feelings and was able to keep things platonic. A little blushing here and there, but he was generally content in never expressing his feelings. They would go away eventually, he told himself. (Y/n) started falling when he was training for the sports festival. It wasn’t a click, but things began to fall into place. His voice made her heart flutter, his touch brought warmth to her cheeks. Was he being more physically affectionate, perhaps? He was certainly hugging her more—and she wasn’t complaining. Her feelings solidified when they were training together one afternoon. They were tired, it had been a long day, and his drive was fading a bit. But maybe he just needed a little push.

“Hey, if you get this set, we’ll get noodles after I’m done stretching.”

He smirked and looked up at her as a new wave of determination washed over him. It was like he was lifting no weight at all.

There was a spark in his eyes when he looked at her, one that sent electricity through her whole body.

She wasn’t one to hide her feelings, and decided that they would most likely stay friends if he didn’t reciprocate. She trusted their maturity, but decided to wait until after the sports festival.

She bought flowers for him and once it was over, she found him outside the building.

Long story short, he was flustered by the flowers and awkwardly accepted her confession, but all was well in the end. Hugs, kisses, they’re dating now :)

She got her pointe shoes around the same time Shinsou started training with Aizawa. There was a lot of joy between them around then. Tired bodies, exhausted from learning and practicing all the time, but absolutely ecstatic at the progress they and the other had made.

“I’m so proud of you!” Words said all the goddamn time between them.

(y/n) was particularly impressed with Shinsou’s ability with the scarf, especially considering its weight. Shinsou had become very familiar with her ability over their many training sessions. He noticed that maybe a week into her pointe training, her feet were getting notable stronger. Her relevé was higher and she was more stable on her box. It was the one of many physical manifestations of her progress.

Come winter, Shinsou was too busy with the joint training battles, which were unfortunately at the same time as the nutcracker show. (Y/n) was in the mirliton corps, and a little disappointed that he couldn’t come see her first performance. He made sure to make it up to her though, surprising her with tickets to see the nutcracker from a professional company.

Also fun fact, next year, he brought the whole eraserfam to see her. He even brought flowers. She was now at in a different company, one that suited her better, and in the snow corps. She was placed kinda towards the back of the stage, but even when the spotlight was on the Snow Queen, he kept his eyes on her :)

“Those were the Italian fouettés you were telling me about, right?”

“Mhmm! I practiced them a lot, and I think I got it down.”

“They looked good.”

(Y/n) also became quite acquainted with the UA students. Even before they were dating, she would visit him in the dorms. The general studies students became rather familiar with her face.

Study dates, cuddle dates, napping together, dating Shinsou is so chill. A lot of the time, they just sit in silence, working on separate things, enjoying one another’s presence. With the occasional kiss of course.

(Y/n) met Aizawa too. It was brief, just a little introduction since Shinsou forgot his water bottle at her house and she stopped by to give it to him. After she left, Aizawa turned to Shinsou like “that was the sweetest shit in the world, don’t you ever let her go.”

Aizawa has definitely interrupted cuddles in Shinsou’s dorm for night checks once or twice.

#fluff #mha fanfiction #mha fluff #bnha shinso hitoshi #shinsou headcanons #Shinsou #Hitoshi Shinsou #Shinsou x reader

[deltadarlingf1]

Alright! We need a Classic F1 counterpart to the Boy Band prompt, so let's do:

Classic F1 Drivers as a Motown Group

Quick disclaimer: 1. We're doing this irrespective of age and 2. This one is more of a narrative for funsies. We love a writing challenge.

Bonus points for name suggestions for the group.

1. The Label Owner

Between balancing several acts, managing stakeholders, and cutting deals, this man's job is essentially herding feral cats all day- but he's definitely the man to do it. He's known for being blunt and, at times, cutthroat, but never unfair. He knows talent when he sees it and has been known to give the underdog a chance.

2. The Group Manager

If the label owner is herding feral cats, our manager is wrangling rabid dogs. Between getting our lead talent out of hot water, negotiating pay, and booking venues, this man is TIRED. But he loves it- after all, it wasn't long ago that he was the one on stage.

3. The Scorned Talent

This man was undoubtedly talented- he had the voice, the had the moves, but his prickly off-stage demeanor and inability to keep things fresh ultimately lead to his fall from grace. After one-too-many times being called a "one-trick-pony" in the press, followed by a nasty physical altercation with the manager, the label made the call to let him go and replace him with a younger lead singer. He would spend the rest of his career as a washed-up has-been telling anyone who'd listen what a "fraud" his replacement was.

3. The Band Leader

When the manager is out, he's our guy making sure rehearsal runs smoothly, setting up for the show, and dragging the singer's ass out of bed when he "oversleeps" (is hungover). While he loves the band and plays a mean sax on stage, he spends the majority of his time learning the business: As life on the road wears on him, he prepares to transition into being a label executive so he can spend more time at home with his wife and son.

4. The Backup Singers

These three lovable idiots are the glue holding it all together. When things get tense between our pianist and vocalist, they're the ones cracking jokes and keeping it light. They also keep butts in seats with their playful on-stage antics and smooth moves.

5. The Pianist

Fans of our group will spend a lifetime arguing who really made the music what it was: the pianist or the singer? Our pianist has been heralded as a "musician's musician" with an ear like no other: He knows what the melody needs, how the rhythm should feel, how to make the listeners dance one minute and cry the next. Unfortunately, between his constant inputs and the label pulling him in to help other acts, he and the singer are at odds constantly. The number of fights those two had and threats to leave if the other stayed cannot be counted. Still, his legend lives on and many acts that followed reference him as inspiration.

6. The Lead Singer

Where our scorned talent missed the mark? This. Kid. HAD it. The moves, the voice, the winning smile, the stage presence- he had it all. Ladies bought the vinyls because they wanted him. Men bought them because they wanted to BE him. He kept every single show packed and never once put on a boring performance.

He wasn't without controversy though: He was a bit of a loose cannon, known to party a bit too hard after shows, drink too much, and get caught up with notable women who may or may not have been married. If he was at constant odds with the pianist over control of the music, then he was certainly always playing jumprope with their manager's last damn nerve. Several times our manager begged the label executives to get rid of the kid or keep him in line, but with our singer churning out hit after hit, there was nothing for it. There was no end in sight for our singer's stardom.

Until the end came. When he didn't make it to rehearsals, the band joked that maybe he'd run finally run off with some new blonde for good. When the news that night rolled footage of what was left of the plane he'd boarded, silence befell them all. It was all the nation could talk about for days- he left a hole in the music scene that no one could ever hope to fill.

BONUS: The Critic

A constant thorn in the side for our group. This man seemed to know EVERYTHING about what went on behind the scenes with the act. Scathing reports and salacious details of our singer's late-night antics poured from his pen, baffling the man. Multiple times our singer called out the critic by name in interviews, calling him a hack and a liar. It wouldn't be until years later that our label owner finally confessed to serving up secrets to the critic because, well, all press is good press.

Still, no one could write the soul of our singer better than the critic, and when the tragedy came it was the critic that wrote a memorial that could move even the surliest of men to tears. In every documentary and exposé of our group that followed, the critic and his ongoing battle with the singer were always mentioned- the two's stories forever intertwined in legend.

#i am so sorry and or you're welcome #just for fun #f1blr #classic f1 #nigel mansell #alain prost #ayrton senna #didier pironi #riccardo patrese #elio de angelis #keke rosberg #gille Villeneuve #there were so many drivers I could have subbed in or out for this #please excuse the typos #nelson piquet jumpscare #f1

[ludwigbeilschmidts]

a symptom of being human - germerica

master post.

how did they meet?

they're both 16 at the time.

alfred needed to get out of the states so he just said “i’ll do au pair” and got sent to germany.

on his way from the airport to wherever he has to go he literally bumps into ludwig.

al falls down, his headphones disconnect and his music starts blaring.

it’s miracle by shinedown

lud, as one does, looks down at al and instead of helping him up or offering his hand, he pulls out his phone and shows him what he’s listening to. it’s also miracle by shinedown.

al forgets he’s just been pushed to the ground and immediately gets up like “WHOA DUDE THIS IS LIKE FATE OR SOMETHING?” and ludwig doesn’t quite know what’s going on but he thinks he just made a new friend, so he nods along.

al still has a bit of time left before he has to go to his au pair house so they grab a coffee together and exchange numbers afterwards.

how did they get together?

they've been in love for a long time. them getting together was a long time coming, but it takes them ages.

they've known each other longer than gilbert and arthur had, but it takes them until after gil and arthur get married to finally get together.

really, it already begins during the wedding, because gil and arthur make them dance with each other as a means of pushing them along.

the issue as to why it takes them so long is partly because it just takes them forever to realize their own feelings. it's obvious to pretty much anyone else, except to them. ludwig has trouble getting in touch with his own feelings and alfred doesn't think about his feelings. he experiences them.

and when they both realize it, they've been friends for well over three years, and neither knows how to address it without risking their friendship. especially because al knows it'd be a big change in their dynamic either way, and he can't put ludwig (who deals horribly with change) through that.

ludwig has to admit he can't understand social cues at all, and therefore is completely blind to the signs that al likes him as well, no matter how many times someone else might tell him he likes him.

(it's never gilbert, though, because he promised alfred not to tell. so he doesn't, even if it's agony to watch them dance around each other.)

but when arthur and gilbert make them dance with each other, they'd planned this. they'd planned the song, they'd planned the timing and it ended up working perfectly.

they kissed then. and had a long, long, long conversation about it afterwards.

random hc's.

they have two pets. a golden retriever named aster and a cat named fortnite. alfred named fortnite, and ludwig thought the name was ridiculous, but he cannot say no to alfred.

miracle was their wedding song, and ludwig might have cried just a bit when he and alfred danced to it.

ludwig tries his best to help al with learning german, and he thinks it's adorable that al tries so hard. he loves it when he is confident in what he's saying, and he encourages him as best he can.

english is their go-to language, but randomly al will try to speak in german.

they love each other so much, it's ridiculous, especially because ludwig is very emotionally constipated, but al brings out the best in him.

ludwig's love language is acts of service, alfred's is quality time.

they go out regularly because alfred drags ludwig out of their apartment. he doesn't like doing nothing, he always needs something to do.

#hetalia #germerica #gerame #hws germany #hws america #asobh

[teaberrii]

Chapter 2: The Past (My Worst Enemy is a Cat)

Human by day. Cat by night. That’s how Scaramouche lived until you came back into his life.

Scaramouche/You

Notes: Cross-posted on Ao3

Chapter One

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

You raise your arms and groan loudly as you stretch. It's late, but you're still at the office, deciding to work until your meetup with some old friends. Now that it's almost time, you stand and take a deep breath. You turn off your monitor, slip your coat, and head out the door with your things.

As you walk down a hallway, you glance to the room on your right and see Scaramouche looking over some documents. You're not too surprised. He's always been a hard worker. That's why it took a lot out of you to beat him to become the best in the class way back in the day. But when you finally did, he came in like a wrecking ball and almost immediately pushed your name off the number one spot.

“...Well, that was short-lived.”

You clenched your fists as you saw your name in the number two spot on the top scores of the latest midterm exams. Was this what your hard work came to? A mere number two? No. You absolutely refused to settle for less.

“...Hey, are you okay?” You felt your friend’s hand on your shoulder. “Number two is also really good! You’re already guaranteed to get into a good school.”

Yeah, you suppose. But while you knew your academic future was guaranteed, there was also something else… someone else. Someone who you could only beat once in a blue moon. Someone who took great joy in watching you suffer.

“Better luck next time.” The voice next to your ear took you by surprise. You immediately turned and saw Scaramouche smiling at you. “I could lend you my notes.”

You looked away. “Pass.”

“Or should I tutor you instead?”

“Hard pass.”

Then, as if sensing your gaze, his eyes look up. He props his elbow up and leans his head into his hand as if catching someone in the act. He gives you a small wave. Then, you quickly look away and continue towards the elevator.

Scaramouche slightly smiles as he watches you leave. He considers it a miracle that he got to see you again. After you had left for university abroad, he figured that would be the end of the ridiculous rivalry.

However, he thought about you occasionally, wondering if you found someone else to compete with. The thought had strangely annoyed him. Now that you're back, it feels like old times… maybe you're not at his throat at every chance you got, but he finds it thrilling that he still affects you somehow.

Scaramouche glances at the time. Will he see you again tonight?

When you enter a restaurant, you're greeted by a chorus of hellos and cheers. Then, as you sit down, the small group around the table starts talking, some overlapping with each other.

“It’s so good to see you!”

“Did you get skinnier?”

“Here, have some wine!”

“How’s working with Scaramouche?” The last question made you look at your childhood friend. He was looking at you. “The two of you are at the same company, aren’t you?”

“...It’s fine. Nothing special,” you say. There’s some truth in that, but you consider it a miracle you even saw each other again. You had no intention of getting back in touch with him when you decided to move back. Why would you? It wasn’t like you were friends.

Someone laughs and asks, “Don’t tell me both of you are comparing who has a higher salary now?”

“What’s it like working with him?”

“Why are you so curious?” you ask.

“Well, he never hangs out with us anymore.”

“Yeah. He sorta got distant after a while.”

“Take tonight, for example,” your childhood friend says. “We invited him, but he said no.”

You aren’t sure why that kind of stung, and you can’t help but ask, “...Did he say why?”

“Work,” everyone says simultaneously.

“He’s aiming for the director spot.”

Very Scaramouche, you think. “Well, enough about him,” you say. “What’s going on with everyone?”

Time flies by, and everyone is a little drunk except for you. You slip on your coat just as you're about to leave. "Don't drink too much now."

“What? You’re leaving already?”

“I’d rather be sober on my day off tomorrow.”

Your childhood friend stands. “I’ll walk you home.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Really. It’s just—”

“No, please.”

You ignore the cheers from the rest of your friends. Then, you nod, and the two of you leave the restaurant together. Soon, you're back on the same road where you saw the black cat. Your mind wanders away from the conversation. Will you see it again?

When Scaramouche saw you, his tail immediately curls up. This is a pleasant surprise if it isn't for the man walking with you. He recognizes him as an old friend… one that he drifted apart from after he found out he spread rumours about you back in school.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Scaramouche had a hand in his pocket as he stared sternly at his friend. When his friend said nothing, Scaramouche continued, “What? Did you get jealous that she wasn’t hanging out with you as much anymore? So you told the guy that she had feelings for him? What are you? Five?”

“...Could you not tell her?” Scaramouche scoffed. “I messed up, okay?” Scaramouche was about to walk away when his friend said, “Don’t tell me you weren’t jealous either.”

Scaramouche looked over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t resort to doing something so petty.”

Scaramouche quietly follows behind you, watching your interest in the conversation with a past friend dwindle little by little. Gosh, why are you with him out of all people?

When his friend stops, Scaramouche sits on the stone ledge he’s walking on and narrows his eyes. As he watches his past friend confess his feelings for you in the middle of the alleyway, he quickly stands, his tail straight up and puffed out. What in the world?

“...Wait. Where is this coming from?” You force a smile. “We haven’t talked in years.”

You listen as your friend pours his heart out and take a step back. You don't mean to, but it's just so sudden and unwanted. But when he steps forward and grabs your shoulders, your instinct is to push him away… but you don't have to.

Instead, something latches onto him from behind, and he screams as he feels sharp claws dig into his shoulder. When he turns, your eyes widen when you see the black cat. Your friend finally grabs the feline, and you immediately grab his arm. Then, you hug the black cat and gently pry it away from your friend.

“What the hell?” He glared at the cat in your arms. “Where did this dumb cat come from?”

Scaramouche wants to sink his claws into him again, but you're hugging him too tightly… which he doesn't mind. But still. If only he could claw the man's eyes out.

“Listen,” you say. Scaramouche and his friend look at you. But, you stare at the man in front of you. “...I’m sorry. I don't feel the same."

That’s the only answer he needs. With a slight smile, Scaramouche turns back and sees his friend trying to hold it together. The man had it coming. What did he expect?

"...I understand. It was really sudden…." He forces a smile at you. "Goodnight."

As you watch him leave, you sigh softly. Then, you look down at the cat in your arms. "Were you following me?" Scaramouche looks up and uses his paw to wipe something off his face. Then, you smile and gently scratch his head. "Maybe you aren't so bad after all."

Great. Scaramouche has a deadpan look on his face. If only you could say that under different circumstances.

#scaramouche #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #genshin scara #scara x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin fanfiction #genshin impact #genshin fanfic

[xxs4d-b4st4rdxx]

I have no idea why, but I have a sudden urge to talk about what Dr. Alto Clef is with in my head. It's probably because of that post of resent.

I'm going to be up and front with that this is more of me just rambling than a well-thought-out. I do better if I ramble with no form or idea where it is going. Also, I don't care if you think in any way is a waste or stupid. This is my blog, and I and do and say what I want, even if it's mindless rambling about a character or whatever else. -----

Well, to be honest, He does have a special place within my mind. It's greatly personal, I Rather not talk about it much, mainly because I rather keep the bad times behind me. Just know he has helped me get though some hard times in my life, even though he's a god-damn asshole of a character, lol.

Um… how do I start these things… Well first I must be clear that I have been out of the fandom he belongs in for some years now and so, much of what I view him is when I was really into it. SCP-4231 is a big piece to how I see him. I read that when it first came out, though I probably shouldn't have read it at that time.

Ok, enough of the rambling. For me, I view him as a bitter old man that real does not want to have anything to do with anyone. Which I don't blame. I thought of him being three different people with Alto being the last and Francis being the first, though the middle of the both does not really have a name He's just dubbed with Ukulele. Francis's GOC code name. With Ukulele being switch of dealing the stress of work and well their personal life. While Alto being formed when the incident happen and being the main for Francis to heal. Which never fully happen, Francis never really came back and only few years after it simply left. While Ukulele kinda linger not much anymore either being the next to fade leaving Alto be the last one left abandoned and the feeling that he had failed in sense. More bitter than anything in his mind left with the mess Francis had left him. Hope that makes sense in a way.

Another thing with the shipping of him and Kondraki (surprised I still remember how to spell his name). I like it though, I see it more of that Kondraki to him is a person that hang with and fuck around with once in a while, nothing more than that. I just see Alto being mainly a loner for that when he feels the safest at. I also do like the idea that he has amassed a large family of cat, those are his people. Furthermore, I like to think he thinks of himself as a cat as a way to cope with what he is.

The why I think he looks is pretty much what it most views him as. A white short fat man that doesn't have the greatest look, blond hair three eye colors, you know the gist. I have added on to that over the years with having a bad tan, you know what I mean. Have some numbers of scars from his year of living. A thing I also like is that he flip-flop in having somewhat short hair to have it long enough to have it braided. To be honest, I don't think he gives a shit how he looks other that his abundance of Hawaiian shirts, he's very prideful with that. His third eye I like to imagine he can move it anywhere on his body or hide it all together, another thing to fuck with people. Oh, Yeah, a chain smoker, of course.

Even with him being a shit person, I think deep with in him, he still cares about well… Francis's kid. Alto himself doesn't consider them being his kid nor being ever married. Though still cares about them.

I might be the reason he never just says fuck it and leave, to disappear, to live a life quietly without the Foundation being up his ass all the time. Maybe there's a different reason, who knows, he will never say, maybe he doesn't know himself either.

Do really think he's an anomaly of his own kind, being that most reality bender or what ever you want to call them, usually supper nova or simply disappear. Yet he's still there, well, depending on what stories you read. He does do either which is odd, potentially it's because of the circumstance he was in when there was still Francis and how him and his partner were like how two stars act when they are close to one another. Where the larger of the two slowly eats the other. Possibly that had some cause for it other than well... The trauma that comes with such an abusive relationship.

-----

Beyond this point, it is me rambling more about my old interest of realty benders than Alto himself. I was really into the concept of reality bender back in the day.

-----

As a side not I do compare reality binder with stars because of their life, cycle are really remind me of stars. With the more large hotter one having quite fast and destructive ends while the smaller and slow burning one much quieter ends.

Though, I'm just going to generalize things for the sack of understanding what I'm saying. But You want to go more specific, you can learn and use the lettering system that is uses to categorize stars. For example, our star is a yellow Dwarf and the spectral type G and with that will evolve into red giants. In turn, a white dwarf to finally a black dwarf where it does not have any more materials to produce energy (light). If you know the life cycle of a reality bender, you can fit it in within those terms.

There's also how some I would think some would bend reality some much they would leave tears within the fabric of reality, maybe creating a sort of black hole like some stars that are dense enough can form when dying. With what I said about super novas being how that is their max, their own unmaking. I think of it after math becoming nebula like in how mushroom producing spores, the matter with the disrupted reality creates others like as we are made of star matter someone can have that distorted matter that might form them as a reality bender. As they are not made with the same matter as others, but the same as another's demise for filling the cycle once more. Though like Alto, not all will meet their own destruction, with some living after that mass or simply never going through it. Leaving them much more stable in some sense. Though that does not mean they can't just go back to being a risk, which leave me to the point of why they might just simply disappear as a way to avoid that fate. As they might make their own small packet with in the fabric of reality, maybe that's how universes are made if you want to think of it that why. For me in star term I think of Alto a white dwarf star as something that is stable but has no risk of being destructive though much weaker than it was once before. That really does not matter with dwarf stars they live a very long lives, as like Alto they don't simply leave they stay for a very long time out live other stars, other reality bender without much change. In my head, I think he knows this, but I don't he likes it any. I think sometime he wished he was one that lives a short life that fades very soon after it was created.

To not stop on a sad note with the concept of cluster of stars like galaxy because I've already said what where nebulas as that is left over star matter which can in turn to make new stars. With galaxies, I see it as some reality bender might want to form groups, in a sense as a hive mind of sorts. Whereas in before they find their own space outside by themselves, this with a group can establish new one that are which much larger. Where the core normally being a black hole, their equivalent being a tear in reality. Which others get drawn to going from there leaving within the tare uses it as their own space allowing others to join with most leave to original for to become as one and in turn as a hive mind. With this being the case, they will hide that opening as to prevent unwanted out. Maybe this could be a way naturally how rips are mended in a way. Galaxies don't pose a threat as they have no more interest with their own reality from once they came, but they might have interest in merging with others like them.

I hope my word salad gave you some enjoyment. I really just did this for myself as a way to finally clean out what was left for my SCP days.

Thank you, for listening to my TedTalk, lol.

#Rambling #large post #scp fandom #scp foundation #alto clef #dr. clef #why not #scp-4231 #reality benders (not real) #I have to preface that for sake of no confusion #This took me three hours to type and clean up I was hyper focus wish I could do that more often #rich.txt

[crosswise]

▸ about;

hello! my name is Billie Delacroix, also known as crosswise. I'm in my early thirties, a college student, and a writer. I live in the midwest with my family and my cat, I'm addicted to caffeine, and I don't have enough hours in the day to write. I also have chronic pain and adhd. I'm also non-binary, and my pronouns are they/them.

My favorite genres to write are romance, fantasy, and science fiction. I also dabble in writing fanfiction, especially when I have writer's block with my original work.

I hope to find more writers on tumblr to chat with and even more stories to read, as well as accountability for my own writing.

my stories often involve 18+ content. please be an adult to follow and/or interact.

▸ links;

about page // wips // twitter // wattpad // archive of our own // spotify

▸ works in progress;

summaries under the cut.

cybersight.

Amelise Hale is no one special. She's just another human pipe rat — small, slim, and able to slip in and out of the ducts of Yggdrasil, the massive space station she calls home. It's dirty work, but vital, and more importantly, it gets her three meals a day and a warm place to sleep.

But when she stumbles upon a mysterious server room in the middle of Yggdrasil, hidden away for centuries, she discovers an Artificial Intelligence, LOKI, which has been dormant for years. AI are commonplace, so she thinks nothing of stealing it for herself and installing it on her own hardware.

But LOKI is nothing like the shackled, limited AI she has encountered before. He is fully sentient and autonomous — and he will have his vengeance.

Amelise soon finds herself entangled in a dark, ancient conspiracy, with LOKI as her only ally.

lunar shadow.

Over a hundred years into the future, vampires have taken over the earth. With ever changing temperatures and darkening skies, they're the only ones who are thriving in this new world. In their high-tech cities, they keep humans as servants and blood bags.

Maire has never set foot in one of the vampiric cities, and she would rather die than serve a vampire. Instead, she lives free and wild, in a walled settlement along with her werewolf partner, Oisin. Together, they guard the city and hunt the vampires who dare to venture too close.

But when they find a lone vampire, injured and alone and begging for mercy, they can't bring themselves to kill it.

Him.

Rhazyn.

He tells a tale of unrest and rebellion, so in exchange for information, they allow him to live. And with Rhazyn, they discover a whole new world.

the shutterbug and the ceo.

Ella Monroe has been stuck working at her controlling stepmother's photography studio for the past five years, unable to pursue her passion. So when she's sent to photograph Kaidan Holloway at his new headquarters, she doesn't expect much. She's heard stories about the CEO and his infamous temper, not to mention his impatience with photographers.

She certainly doesn't expect to find him so attractive. Or for his gaze to keep meeting hers. Or for him to give her his card.

Kaidan, for his part, is enchanted by this photographer, something he never thought would happen. He offers her his personal number, not really expecting her to call him.

But Ella sees it as her chance to escape her oppressive family, a client of her own to start her own studio.

When she calls him back, though, Kaidan assumes it's for the date he offered her. Desperate, and hoping she can convince him to hire her during dinner, she agrees.

#writeblr #writeblr intro #writeblr introduction #wip #wip intro #wip introduction #writers on tumblr #amwriting #writing community #mywips #mine. #wip: cybersight #wip: lunar shadow #wip: shutterbug

[pipermca]

Very Quick TFCon 2023 Recap!

This past weekend I attended TCCon 2023 in Toronto! This is the first convention I've attended since the start of the pandemic (aside from a couple of very local ones) and it was so good. I love being among my people, the geeks. :) Spouse also attended with me; he is only a TF fan by osmosis (seeing how enthusiastic I am about stuff makes him happy about it too), but he enjoys the vibe of sci-fi and adjacent cons. He also claims to have had a good time.

Before we left, I was concerned about a few things: catching Covid again, boarding the cat, dealing with the disaster that flying in Canada has become lately, etc. We masked up anytime we were in con space, and I remain hopeful that our recent infections acted like a booster against catching it again. If we make it to this Sunday without coming down with it, I'll consider it a success.

Before I have to go to work tomorrow, I wanted to get my thoughts down about how the con went: the amazing, the good, and the disappointing.

The Amazing

Friends. Being able to catch up with (and in some cases meet!) other TF fans who I've chatted with online over the years is always amazing. I honestly don't want to start naming names because then I'll forget someone and feel bad. There is something special about being able to put a face to an online name.

If you were there and I missed you, I am so sorry. I tried, I honestly did. But I am an incredibly awkwardly shy potato in person, and I could only shove myself out of my introvert shell so much to message people and say "LET'S MEET NOW." Sometimes I depend on other people to say "PIPER! LET'S MEET NOW" because otherwise I dither and dither until the weekend is over and the chance is gone. :(

Thank you to everyone who put up with me; I love you guys. <3

The Pros. I steeled myself and went to the three pros who I wanted to talk to: Alex Milne, James Roberts, and Jack Lawrence. Alex was selling copies of Hot Motor Oil (omg book number two is INSANE and I cackled over it repeatedly), so while he was sketching in my copy I was able to thank him for the commission he did for me a while back. He said some very nice things about my choice! but it's important for me to thank people in person for the commissions they do for me. :3 Same thing with Jack; I got a commission from him just a little while ago, and I LOVE it. He was also very nice, even though I was only at his table to thank him and not buy anything. >.> (Next time I need to bring larger print protectors; his prints were GORGEOUS but there was no way I'd be able to get them home safely.)

And I bought some scripts from James; I've been dying to read the annotated ones because I am interested in writing my own scripts, and I wanted to see how he put his together and the thoughts behind them. I was able to tell him about how it was fanfic that led me to MTMTE which led me back into the TF fandom after a 25+ year absence, and he was really happy to hear that. (And commented about how the message that fanfic can bring in new fans needs to get back to the IP holders...)

The Costumes. Briefly, AMAZING costumes this year. I got some good pictures of some of them, but the creativity out there is fantastic.

The Good.

The Loot. I got a decent amount of stuff this year, and thanks to Spouse tagging along I was able to bring back a bit more than usual. And some of the stuff was for him, so he got something out of it too. :3

Non-TF Meetups. By happenstance, a coworker of mine lives in the area, as does some WoW guildies that Spouse knows. We'd never met any of these people in person, so we made time for that and I'm happy we did. Also, not having to go downtown? Priceless. XD

Cat Boarding. We boarded our new cat while we were away, and it went well! She is very adaptable, and I'm glad that they liked her. This was sort of a test run for longer vacations, and now I feel comfortable leaving her there for longer periods of time.

The Disappointing

The Pros I Didn't Meet. See: awkward potato. I did want to say hello Frank Todaro (he has a very good moustache by the way) and tell him in person how much I enjoyed his work on WFC (as Starscream and Rattrap - but Starscream specifically was great), but there was always someone at his table when I went by, and I'm an awkward potato, and I (?) didn't really want an autograph but felt bad just going and talking to him without buying something like I did to Jack, so I didn't talk to him. And David Kaye ALWAYS had a huge lineup so that was totally out.

No Toyhax? I was hoping that Toyhax would be there so I could buy some decals for the car (ones I ALMOST bought in 2019 but didn't, and I've regretted it ever since.) But they were not at the con. (I also kind of wanted some other sticker sets.) I've checked their website and I think the car decals in 2019 were being sold by someone just sharing their table but I can't remember who, so - blah. Too bad.

Travel Shenanigans. It all worked out in the end, but our trip to Toronto was a little... interesting thanks to some computer glitches with the airline. It added stress to me that I didn't need. 

Writing. Hahhahahaaa! No writing was done over the weekend. Zero words written. I was either too busy, or too tired. :/

Health Issues. I won't get into it much here, but attending the convention made me realize that I am still suffering some effects from the Covid infection I had at the end of May. I have a doctor's appointment in a few weeks so I can let her know about it, but we'll see if there's anything they can actually do. -.-;

And that was TFCon 2023! I hope I can attend again next year; this really was a great experience.

#tfcon 2023 #con report #maccadam #transformers