#got another but that one requires explanation

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi , miss Raven

Their is something has been on my mind for while ;

In rook suitor suit vignette he Compose a flattering poem about Crowley

While Ace and Epel was talking about how rook would compliment anyone , rook insisted that he mean every word he say .

And there's this specific weird line

"if it weren't for your presence , I wouldn't be here"

Like what do you mean?????!!

Do you think this line is hinting at the fact that rook didn't join NRC via traditional way or he wasn't chosen by the dark mirror , since he is one of the light trio

Or To the fact that he transferred to another dorm smoothly without any problem?

For some reason I started suspecting rook recently 😭

The fact he was one of the reason vil overbloted by convincing him to watch neige performance and also he is the one who convinced vil to add Ace and deuce as part of VDC team while I thought lilia and cater was a better option

I would like to hear your opinion about it 👀

Ah, so if I'm understanding you correctly... You're theorizing that Rook might be an outside agent of some kind? One that Crowley intentionally brought into NRC to facilitate triggering overblots??

I’ll try to respond to one question at a time; hopefully this will make it easier to follow along! The post got quite long, so it's all below the cut~

Beginning with Rook’s poem, and, more specifically, “If it weren’t for your presence, I wouldn’t be here”. It’s funny that you mention this line, because when the vignette first came out (in JP; the terminology used is similar to “I would not exist/be here”), people interpreted it VERY literally. As in… “Rook is Crowley’s son because he literally could not be conceived without a father! They’re even both named after birds! They have to at least be blood related somehow!” Strange how in 2020, Crowley was suspected of being Rook’s father but now in 2024 Crowley’s being suspected of being Malleus’s father. The poor headmaster just can’t catch a break 😂

Personally, I don’t think that line is implying anything strange about Rook’s enrollment. As far as we know, he did not join NRC though any abnormal means, and nor did Silver. Of the “light trio” (a label that I must stress exists within the fandom but is not endorsed by TWST), only Kalim fits the bill. Kalim was originally homeschooled, but received an acceptance letter to NRC a month into the school year. Another month later, he transferred in. As far as we know, all students at NRC (save for Yuu and Grim) were chosen by the Mirror of Darkness, even the light trio. Again, I want to emphasize that TWST does not use “light trio” or a similar term to refer to or to characterize Kalim, Silverc and Rook. We’ve gotten no formal in-universe explanation as to why those three in particular have light cosmic magic instead of everyone else’s dark cosmic magic. (This is entirely separate from meta theories, which are out-of-universe explanations for why the “light trio” exists. The popular meta explanation is that it’s because Silver, Kalim, and Rook are not twisted from Disney villains but rather “good” characters like Aurora, the Sultan, and the Huntsman.)

On the subject of transferring dorms, the option is always on the table. We see mob students talk about transferring dorms as early as 1-14:

In 6-67 (part 20 with the Pomefiore group), Vil describes the transfer process as being tedious and involving a lot of “complicated paperwork and ceremonies”. Crowley also says the process is “burdensome” in 1-20, but this phrasing is quite vague and could mean any number of things. (Burdensome to whom, the staff or the students? Why exactly is it burdensome?) Overall, it seems like transferring dorms would take a long time and require various formalities, but not necessarily be full of problems.

As long as you’re dedicated and consistently complete what is asked of you to complete the process, transferring should be no issue. I don’t think it’s a given that you’d normally experience troubles in trying to transfer. It should be smooth by default (unless the student backs out, is uncooperative, and/or fails to complete the required steps). So following that logic, I don’t think the poem line is saying anything about Rook’s dorm transfer either.

While it’s true that Rook encourages Vil to watch Neige’s performance and advises that Vil pick Ace and Deuce for the VDC/SDC Tribe, I do not believe there was malicious intent behind these actions. It’s hinted throughout book 5 that Rook’s reasoning for doing these things was to help Vil recognize the value of his “beauty” is something he gains from himself, not from the approval of others.

This is most likely Rook’s motivation for suggesting Vil observe the competition or to consider freshmen for the team. It’s exposing Vil to the contentedness that can come with imperfection or not being at the very top, something Vil fails to recognize in himself until the end of book 5. Being as perceptive as he is, Rook would have realized that outright telling Vil the moral of the week would not sway his strong-willed friend’s mind. Thus, Rook devised a more roundabout plan and involved Yuu (who, at this point, has a reputation for settling dorm-wide disputes) and co. (unpolished and clumsy underclassmen that Vil could shape as well as potentially also learn from in a reciprocal manner). Maybe Lilia and Cater would have been more technically skilled, being members of a club band and all, but they wouldn’t have provided the same opportunity for growth that Yuu and Adeuce did.

Rook is someone who has always been portrayed as a supporter of Vil’s, a good friend and a trusted confidant. He does have a nefarious side and is 100% capable of deception (like the time in Endless Halloween Night when he quickened his heartbeat to convince Sebek he was also scared and therefore was not a traitor). However, I don’t think Rook would want to betray his friends by actively harming them and putting their lives in danger (both during book 5’s overblot and immediately after in book 6’s rescue mission); he truly cares for them and wants to see them happy and healthy. (One could argue he should have voted for NRC instead of RSA to help Vil achieve his dream instead of betraying him, but that’s another discussion entirely.)

There’s no reason why Rook would go out of his way to do innocuous things like helping Epel with his UM or imparting wisdom to Deuce unless he actually cared and wanted to see them develop. Beyond the scope of book 5, why would Rook do even more innocuous things like trying to make Epel feel welcome and assisting him with learning table manners? Why wouldn’t he go out of his way to provoke Vil more often? Did Crowley hypothetically have even all of these little details down and instruct Rook to do (or not do) these things??? It sounds too far-fetched to attach a hidden motive behind everything Rook says or does. It could be as simple as “he wants to be there to support his friends”.

Before we wrap up, I’d like to quickly touch on the suggestion that Silver and Kalim too were catalysts for Malleus and Jamil’s OBs, respectively. It’s true that they were, but I doubt Silver or Kalim were aware and did so intentionally. Both seemed genuinely ignorant as to the true stress that Malleus and Jamil were under, and Silver + Kalim do not present as toxic people who would want to inflame their friends’ negativity. Of course, there’s always the possibility that Puppet Master Crowley (™) is orchestrating everything from the shadows (but I’m not going to get into the “time loop to gather all the necessary information and learn what the correct choices are” theory here www). I just don’t think Rook is Crowley’s accomplice in all of this if the time loop + intention overblots theories overlap.

This is one of those instances where I see Rook as being very honest with his intentions and because of his… generally strange character (?), his peers and players alike still suspect there is a deeper meaning to his words. I interpret his poem as nothing more than waxing poetic to expressing gratitude to the one man that makes it possible for him to be at NRC as a student: Crowley. Rook states that he wanted to give an exemplary poem using a subject that both Ace and Epel were already familiar with, so he went with the headmaster. Furthermore, we know that Rook is able to witness many wonderful and beautiful things at NRC, as well as make meaningful relationships with interesting people like Vil. He would not be able to do any of these things were he not extended an invitation to NRC—and it is for this reason that it would make sense for him to genuinely be appreciative of Crowley.

Those are all my thoughts on this matter all for now ^^ Hope it was an interesting read!

#twisted wonderland #twst #Rook Hunt #Dire Crowley #Kalim Al-Asin #Silver #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #question #twst theory #twisted wonderland theories #twst theories #twisted wonderland theory #Cater Diamond #Lilia Vanrouge #Ace Trappola #Yuu #Deuce Spade #Vil Schoenheit #Jamil Viper #Malleus Draconia #book 7 spoilers #book 4 spoilers #book 5 spoilers #notes from the writing raven #rook suitor suit vignette spoilers #Epel Felmier #Pomefiore #Neige LeBlanche #endless halloween night spoilers

[dxrksong]

I DREW ANOTHER

I CANNOT BE STOPPED!!!! BUAHAHAHAHA

#Danny Phantom #Ghosts #ghost king danny #my art #au? #maybe 👀 #got another but that one requires explanation #since it really IS an au :3c #crown of fire #(?) #ring of rage

[crowcryptid]

This is for a help desk position. You know. The people you call to reset your password or to install an app.

#it is not a manager position either #it just says help desk #we have got to stop HR from writing job requirements actually #I’m convinced that 90% of ‘requirement’ lists are just whatever the employee they need to replace had #like. there is no other explanation for the extremely specific and random requirements #I saw another one asking for 3 years of experience working specifically with windows sever 2008. #ah so you’re saying the employee you used to have was there for 3 years. right? is that what you mean? #cause you aren’t going to find someone with 3 years of experience with SPECIFICALLY the 2008 version of something #cause if someone has that they sure as hell aren’t in an entry level position anymore #considering they would have been entry level. you know. around 2008.

[steviescrystals]

one more rant about my layoff in the tags and then i’ll shut up i promise

#my mom is telling me to apply for unemployment and i’m so overwhelmed even thinking abt it #the guy from payroll who so nicely told me about the layoff sent me a link for it like that’s the natural next step #but like i’m not planning on staying unemployed for more than like a week i’m planning on applying for another job in a few days #so i feel like it’s not even worth it but at the same time i do need money bc the timing of this was terrible #BUT idk if i’m even eligible for unemployment bc i have a second job #i’m on demand there so i only work like once every couple months but it’s still a job so i’m not technically unemployed yk #and i was going through the eligibility requirements online and i can’t find anything related to that one way or the other #i want to just say fuck it and not worry about it #but is that stupid bc i currently only have like one job in mind to apply for and i don’t even know if they’re hiring yet #i feel like i’m being dumb and picky bc i’m still in college so it’s not like it’s a career thing i just need a job for now #preferably retail bc that’s what i’ve always done and i’m extremely opposed to the idea of a serving job #anyway it shouldn’t really matter that much bc it’s gonna be temporary #but i’m not the type to change jobs often (i’ve only ever had 2 and they’re the one i got laid off from and the one i’m still on demand at) #so wherever i end up working i’m planning on staying for at least a couple years so i want it to be something i at least somewhat enjoy #it just sucks so much having to go through this whole process #bc i was planning on staying at this last job until i finished school and possibly longer #and now i don’t have that option bc they let me go with no warning and no explanation #and i loved that job so i’ve been extremely depressed ever since i got the call #which just makes the whole unemployment/applying for new jobs thing so much harder #and i wish i could stop whining about it but it’s literally all i can think about i’m just! so unhappy rn! #vent #lj.txt

[exeggcute]

the great reddit API meltdown of '23, or: this was always bound to happen

there's a lot of press about what's going on with reddit right now (app shutdowns, subreddit blackouts, the CEO continually putting his foot in his mouth), but I haven't seen as much stuff talking about how reddit got into this situation to begin with. so as a certified non-expert and Context Enjoyer I thought it might be helpful to lay things out as I understand them—a high-level view, surveying the whole landscape—in the wonderful world of startups, IPOs, and extremely angry users.

disclaimer that I am not a founder or VC (lmao), have yet to work at a company with a successful IPO, and am not a reddit employee or third-party reddit developer or even a subreddit moderator. I do work at a startup, know my way around an API or two, and have spent twelve regrettable years on reddit itself. which is to say that I make no promises of infallibility, but I hope you'll at least find all this interesting.

profit now or profit later

before you can really get into reddit as reddit, it helps to know a bit about startups (of which reddit is one). and before I launch into that, let me share my Three Types Of Websites framework, which is basically just a mental model about financial incentives that's helped me contextualize some of this stuff.

(1) website/software that does not exist to make money: relatively rare, for a variety of reasons, among them that it costs money to build and maintain a website in the first place. wikipedia is the evergreen example, although even wikipedia's been subject to criticism for how the wikimedia foundation pays out its employees and all that fun nonprofit stuff. what's important here is that even when making money is not the goal, money itself is still a factor, whether it's solicited via donations or it's just one guy paying out of pocket to host a hobby site. but websites in this category do, generally, offer free, no-strings-attached experiences to their users.

(I do want push back against the retrospective nostalgia of "everything on the internet used to be this way" because I don't think that was ever really true—look at AOL, the dotcom boom, the rise of banner ads. I distinctly remember that neopets had multiple corporate sponsors, including a cookie crisp-themed flash game. yahoo bought geocities for $3.6 billion; money's always been trading hands, obvious or not. it's indisputable that the internet is simply different now than it was ten or twenty years ago, and that monetization models themselves have largely changed as well (I have thoughts about this as it relates to web 1.0 vs web 2.0 and their associated costs/scale/etc.), but I think the only time people weren't trying to squeeze the internet for all the dimes it can offer was when the internet was first conceived as a tool for national defense.)

(2) website/software that exists to make money now: the type that requires the least explanation. mostly non-startup apps and services, including any random ecommerce storefront, mobile apps that cost three bucks to download, an MMO with a recurring subscription, or even a news website that runs banner ads and/or offers paid subscriptions. in most (but not all) cases, the "make money now" part is obvious, so these things don't feel free to us as users, even to the extent that they might have watered-down free versions or limited access free trials. no one's shocked when WoW offers another paid expansion packs because WoW's been around for two decades and has explicitly been trying to make money that whole time.

(3) website/software that exists to make money later: this is the fun one, and more common than you'd think. "make money later" is more or less the entire startup business model—I'll get into that in the next section—and is deployed with the expectation that you will make money at some point, but not always by means as obvious as "selling WoW expansions for forty bucks a pop."

companies in this category tend to have two closely entwined characteristics: they prioritize growth above all else, regardless of whether this growth is profitable in any way (now, or sometimes, ever), and they do this by offering users really cool and awesome shit at little to no cost (or, if not for free, then at least at a significant loss to the company).

so from a user perspective, these things either seem free or far cheaper than their competitors. but of course websites and software and apps and [blank]-as-a-service tools cost money to build and maintain, and that money has to come from somewhere, and the people supplying that money, generally, expect to get it back...

just not immediately.

startups, VCs, IPOs, and you

here's the extremely condensed "did NOT go to harvard business school" version of how a startup works:

(1) you have a cool idea.

(2) you convince some venture capitalists (also known as VCs) that your idea is cool. if they see the potential in what you're pitching, they'll give you money in exchange for partial ownership of your company—which means that if/when the company starts trading its stock publicly, these investors will own X numbers of shares that they can sell at any time. in other words, you get free money now (and you'll likely seek multiple "rounds" of investors over the years to sustain your company), but with the explicit expectations that these investors will get their payoff later, assuming you don't crash and burn before that happens.

during this phase, you want to do anything in your power to make your company appealing to investors so you can attract more of them and raise funds as needed. because you are definitely not bringing in the necessary revenue to offset operating costs by yourself.

it's also worth nothing that this is less about projecting the long-term profitability of your company than it's about its perceived profitability—i.e., VCs want to put their money behind a company that other people will also have confidence in, because that's what makes stock valuable, and VCs are in it for stock prices.

(3) there are two non-exclusive win conditions for your startup: you can get acquired, and you can have an IPO (also referred to as "going public"). these are often called "exit scenarios" and they benefit VCs and founders, as well as some employees. it's also possible for a company to get acquired, possibly even more than once, and then later go public.

acquisition: sell the whole damn thing to someone else. there are a million ways this can happen, some better than others, but in many cases this means anyone with ownership of the company (which includes both investors and employees who hold stock options) get their stock bought out by the acquiring company and end up with cash in hand. in varying amounts, of course. sometimes the founders walk away, sometimes the employees get laid off, but not always.

IPO: short for "initial public offering," this is when the company starts trading its stocks publicly, which means anyone who wants to can start buying that company's stock, which really means that VCs (and employees with stock options) can turn that hypothetical money into real money by selling their company stock to interested buyers.

drawing from that, companies don't go for an IPO until they think their stock will actually be worth something (or else what's the point?)—specifically, worth more than the amount of money that investors poured into it. The Powers That Be will speculate about a company's IPO potential way ahead of time, which is where you'll hear stuff about companies who have an estimated IPO evaluation of (to pull a completely random example) $10B. actually I lied, that was not a random example, that was reddit's valuation back in 2021 lol. but a valuation is basically just "how much will people be interested in our stock?"

as such, in the time leading up to an IPO, it's really really important to do everything you can to make your company seem like a good investment (which is how you get stock prices up), usually by making the company's numbers look good. but! if you plan on cashing out, the long-term effects of your decisions aren't top of mind here. remember, the industry lingo is "exit scenario."

if all of this seems like a good short-term strategy for companies and their VCs, but an unsustainable model for anyone who's buying those stocks during the IPO, that's because it often is.

also worth noting that it's possible for a company to be technically unprofitable as a business (meaning their costs outstrip their revenue) and still trade enormously well on the stock market; uber is the perennial example of this. to the people who make money solely off of buying and selling stock, it literally does not matter that the actual rideshare model isn't netting any income—people think the stock is valuable, so it's valuable.

this is also why, for example, elon musk is richer than god: if he were only the CEO of tesla, the money he'd make from selling mediocre cars would be (comparatively, lol) minimal. but he's also one of tesla's angel investors, which means he holds a shitload of tesla stock, and tesla's stock has performed well since their IPO a decade ago (despite recent dips)—even if tesla itself has never been a huge moneymaker, public faith in the company's eventual success has kept them trading at high levels. granted, this also means most of musk's wealth is hypothetical and not liquid; if TSLA dropped to nothing, so would the value of all the stock he holds (and his net work with it).

what's an API, anyway?

to move in an entirely different direction: we can't get into reddit's API debacle without understanding what an API itself is.

an API (short for "application programming interface," not that it really matters) is a series of code instructions that independent developers can use to plug their shit into someone else's shit. like a series of tin cans on strings between two kids' treehouses, but for sending and receiving data.

APIs work by yoinking data directly from a company's servers instead of displaying anything visually to users. so I could use reddit's API to build my own app that takes the day's top r/AITA post and transcribes it into pig latin: my app is a bunch of lines of code, and some of those lines of code fetch data from reddit (and then transcribe that data into pig latin), and then my app displays the content to anyone who wants to see it, not reddit itself. as far as reddit is concerned, no additional human beings laid eyeballs on that r/AITA post, and reddit never had a chance to serve ads alongside the pig-latinized content in my app. (put a pin in this part—it'll be relevant later.)

but at its core, an API is really a type of protocol, which encompasses a broad category of formats and business models and so on. some APIs are completely free to use, like how anyone can build a discord bot (but you still have to host it yourself). some companies offer free APIs to third-party developers can build their own plugins, and then the company and the third-party dev split the profit on those plugins. some APIs have a free tier for hobbyists and a paid tier for big professional projects (like every weather API ever, lol). some APIs are strictly paid services because the API itself is the company's core offering.

reddit's financial foundations

okay thanks for sticking with me. I promise we're almost ready to be almost ready to talk about the current backlash.

reddit has always been a startup's startup from day one: its founders created the site after attending a startup incubator (which is basically a summer camp run by VCs) with the successful goal of creating a financially successful site. backed by that delicious y combinator money, reddit got acquired by conde nast only a year or two after its creation, which netted its founders a couple million each. this was back in like, 2006 by the way. in the time since that acquisition, reddit's gone through a bunch of additional funding rounds, including from big-name investors like a16z, peter thiel (yes, that guy), sam altman (yes, also that guy), sequoia, fidelity, and tencent. crunchbase says that they've raised a total of $1.3B in investor backing.

in all this time, reddit has never been a public company, or, strictly speaking, profitable.

APIs and third-party apps

reddit has offered free API access for basically as long as it's had a public API—remember, as a "make money later" company, their primary goal is growth, which means attracting as many users as possible to the platform. so letting anyone build an app or widget is (or really, was) in line with that goal.

as such, third-party reddit apps have been around forever. by third-party apps, I mean apps that use the reddit API to display actual reddit content in an unofficial wrapper. iirc reddit didn't even have an official mobile app until semi-recently, so many of these third-party mobile apps in particular just sprung up to meet an unmet need, and they've kept a small but dedicated userbase ever since. some people also prefer the user experience of the unofficial apps, especially since they offer extra settings to customize what you're seeing and few to no ads (and any ads these apps do display are to the benefit of the third-party developers, not reddit itself.)

(let me add this preemptively: one solution I've seen proposed to the paid API backlash is that reddit should have third-party developers display reddit's ads in those third-party apps, but this isn't really possible or advisable due to boring adtech reasons I won't inflict on you here. source: just trust me bro)

in addition to mobile apps, there are also third-party tools that don’t replace the Official Reddit Viewing Experience but do offer auxiliary features like being able to mass-delete your post history, tools that make the site more accessible to people who use screen readers, and tools that help moderators of subreddits moderate more easily. not to mention a small army of reddit bots like u/AutoWikibot or u/RemindMebot (and then the bots that tally the number of people who reply to bot comments with “good bot” or “bad bot).

the number of people who use third-party apps is relatively small, but they arguably comprise some of reddit’s most dedicated users, which means that third-party apps are important to the people who keep reddit running and the people who supply reddit with high-quality content.

unpaid moderators and user-generated content

so reddit is sort of two things: reddit is a platform, but it’s also a community.

the platform is all the unsexy (or, if you like python, sexy) stuff under the hood that actually makes the damn thing work. this is what the company spends money building and maintaining and "owns." the community is all the stuff that happens on the platform: posts, people, petty squabbles. so the platform is where the content lives, but ultimately the content is the reason people use reddit—no one’s like “yeah, I spend time on here because the backend framework really impressed me."

and all of this content is supplied by users, which is not unique among social media platforms, but the content is also managed by users, which is. paid employees do not govern subreddits; unpaid volunteers do. and moderation is the only thing that keeps reddit even remotely tolerable—without someone to remove spam, ban annoying users, and (god willing) enforce rules against abuse and hate speech, a subreddit loses its appeal and therefore its users. not dissimilar to the situation we’re seeing play out at twitter, except at twitter it was the loss of paid moderators;  reddit is arguably in a more precarious position because they could lose this unpaid labor at any moment, and as an already-unprofitable company they absolutely cannot afford to implement paid labor as a substitute.

oh yeah? spell "IPO" backwards

so here we are, June 2023, and reddit is licking its lips in anticipation of a long-fabled IPO. which means it’s time to start fluffing themselves up for investors by cutting costs (yay, layoffs!) and seeking new avenues of profit, however small.

this brings us to the current controversy: reddit announced a new API pricing plan that more or less prevents anyone from using it for free.

from reddit's perspective, the ostensible benefits of charging for API access are twofold: first, there's direct profit to be made off of the developers who (may or may not) pay several thousand dollars a month to use it, and second, cutting off unsanctioned third-party mobile apps (possibly) funnels those apps' users back into the official reddit mobile app. and since users on third-party apps reap the benefit of reddit's site architecture (and hosting, and development, and all the other expenses the site itself incurs) without “earning” money for reddit by generating ad impressions, there’s a financial incentive at work here: even if only a small percentage of people use third-party apps, getting them to use the official app instead translates to increased ad revenue, however marginal.

(also worth mentioning that chatGPT and other LLMs were trained via tools that used reddit's API to scrape post and content data, and now that openAI is reaping the profits of that training without giving reddit any kickbacks, reddit probably wants to prevent repeats of this from happening in the future. if you want to train the next LLM, it's gonna cost you.)

of course, these changes only benefit reddit if they actually increase the company’s revenue and perceived value/growth—which is hard to do when your users (who are also the people who supply the content for other users to engage with, who are also the people who moderate your communities and make them fun to participate in) get really fucking pissed and threaten to walk.

pricing shenanigans

under the new API pricing plan, third-party developers are suddenly facing steep costs to maintain the apps and tools they’ve built.

most paid APIs are priced by volume: basically, the more data you send and receive, the more money it costs. so if your third-party app has a lot of users, you’ll have to make more API requests to fetch content for those users, and your app becomes more expensive to maintain. (this isn’t an issue if the tool you’re building also turns a profit, but most third-party reddit apps make little, if any, money.)

which is why, even though third-party apps capture a relatively small portion of reddit’s users, the developer of a popular third-party app called apollo recently learned that it would cost them about $20 million a year to keep the app running. and apollo actually offers some paid features (for extra in-app features independent of what reddit offers), but nowhere near enough to break even on those API costs.

so apollo, any many apps like it, were suddenly unable to keep their doors open under the new API pricing model and announced that they'd be forced to shut down.

backlash, blackout

plenty has been said already about the current subreddit blackouts—in like, official news outlets and everything—so this might be the least interesting section of my whole post lol. the short version is that enough redditors got pissed enough that they collectively decided to take subreddits “offline” in protest, either by making them read-only or making them completely inaccessible. their goal was to send a message, and that message was "if you piss us off and we bail, here's what reddit's gonna be like: a ghost town."

but, you may ask, if third-party apps only captured a small number of users in the first place, how was the backlash strong enough to result in a near-sitewide blackout? well, two reasons:

first and foremost, since moderators in particular are fond of third-party tools, and since moderators wield outsized power (as both the people who keep your site more or less civil, and as the people who can take a subreddit offline if they feel like it), it’s in your best interests to keep them happy. especially since they don’t get paid to do this job in the first place, won’t keep doing it if it gets too hard, and essentially have nothing to lose by stepping down.

then, to a lesser extent, the non-moderator users on third-party apps tend to be Power Users who’ve been on reddit since its inception, and as such likely supply a disproportionate amount of the high-quality content for other users to see (and for ads to be served alongside). if you drive away those users, you’re effectively kneecapping your overall site traffic (which is bad for Growth) and reducing the number/value of any ad impressions you can serve (which is bad for revenue).

also a secret third reason, which is that even people who use the official apps have no stake in a potential IPO, can smell the general unfairness of this whole situation, and would enjoy the schadenfreude of investors getting fucked over. not to mention that reddit’s current CEO has made a complete ass of himself and now everyone hates him and wants to see him suffer personally.

(granted, it seems like reddit may acquiesce slightly and grant free API access to a select set of moderation/accessibility tools, but at this point it comes across as an empty gesture.)

"later" is now "now"

TL;DR: this whole thing is a combination of many factors, specifically reddit being intensely user-driven and self-governed, but also a high-traffic site that costs a lot of money to run (why they willingly decided to start hosting video a few years back is beyond me...), while also being angled as a public stock market offering in the very near future. to some extent I understand why reddit’s CEO doubled down on the changes—he wants to look strong for investors—but he’s also made a fool of himself and cast a shadow of uncertainty onto reddit’s future, not to mention the PR nightmare surrounding all of this. and since arguably the most important thing in an IPO is how much faith people have in your company, I honestly think reddit would’ve fared better if they hadn’t gone nuclear with the API changes in the first place.

that said, I also think it’s a mistake to assume that reddit care (or needs to care) about its users in any meaningful way, or at least not as more than means to an end. if reddit shuts down in three years, but all of the people sitting on stock options right now cashed out at $120/share and escaped unscathed... that’s a success story! you got your money! VCs want to recoup their investment—they don’t care about longevity (at least not after they’re gone), user experience, or even sustained profit. those were never the forces driving them, because these were never the ultimate metrics of their success.

and to be clear: this isn’t unique to reddit. this is how pretty much all startups operate.

I talked about the difference between “make money now” companies and “make money later” companies, and what we’re experiencing is the painful transition from “later” to “now.” as users, this change is almost invisible until it’s already happened—it’s like a rug we didn’t even know existed gets pulled out from under us.

the pre-IPO honeymoon phase is awesome as a user, because companies have no expectation of profit, only growth. if you can rely on VC money to stay afloat, your only concern is building a user base, not squeezing a profit out of them. and to do that, you offer cool shit at a loss: everything’s chocolate and flowers and quarterly reports about the number of signups you’re getting!

...until you reach a critical mass of users, VCs want to cash in, and to prepare for that IPO leadership starts thinking of ways to make the website (appear) profitable and implements a bunch of shit that makes users go “wait, what?”

I also touched on this earlier, but I want to reiterate a bit here: I think the myth of the benign non-monetized internet of yore is exactly that—a myth. what has changed are the specific market factors behind these websites, and their scale, and the means by which they attempt to monetize their services and/or make their services look attractive to investors, and so from a user perspective things feel worse because the specific ways we’re getting squeezed have evolved. maybe they are even worse, at least in the ways that matter. but I’m also increasingly less surprised when this occurs, because making money is and has always been the goal for all of these ventures, regardless of how they try to do so.

[stevebabey]

Eddie has a test.

It took some time to formulate, a few too many times with guys careless with his heart, who leave behind more heartache than happiness littered in their memory. It’s fucking hard to tell.

More than once, there’s been a dude who promises between kisses i’m not going anywhere and takes more than his fill during a night which Eddie desperately hopes is passion and not some misguided lust. Only to wake a familiar empty side of the bed, them gone — skipping town, back in the arms of their parent-approved girlfriend, or back to spitting his name out with the word freak.

It’s what the test is for.

It’s specific, purposeful, all intending to weed out the straight boys who liked to dip their toes in the pool of queerness and leave Eddie to any consequences of the heart. Eddie doesn’t want to turn cruel, to be too jaded after feeling used too many times. It’s what the test is for. Protect the heart, see what interest is genuine.

Right now, he’s putting the test on Jared. New in town and in Eddie’s life, he’d captured the metalhead’s gaze from the glint of his pierced ear and light eyes that lingered. Kissed a little mean, and with too much teeth, but Eddie chalked it up to excitement. Jared seemed good. Nodded and smiled when Eddie found himself wrapped up in yet another DnD spiel. Said he found it endearing.

The test is simple.

A bid, a nudge, for attention. Never anything big or too exciting— that always got him specifically warped smirks designed to lead him along. Just something minuscule, like will you come take a look at my notes? or can i play you that riff once more? to see if it gave.

The pattern runs deep in Eddie’s dating history; same ol’ jerks who couldn’t bother to come and look at his new DnD sketches are always the ones who are only leasing a new sexuality for a month. It’s like setting a minefield and seeing who stumbles on a landmine, the bids getting ignored is as early as a warning sign he’ll ever get.

He tries the test on Jared.

It’s a Thursday night and Jared’s round at the trailer, lounging on Eddie’s sheets and still a little flushed from the night’s earlier activities. Usually it’s a good sign when the guys stick around after sex, not flying out the door once they’ve got what they want. By now, Eddie has drifted away from his bed, skittish thoughts already off and away with new campaign ideas.

He’s scrawling in a character design, some new boss, half troll, half hellhound, that requires a lot of finicky details worked out. The page is covered in scribbles, nothing in any semblance of lines and a crude first sketch is in the middle. It’s not quite the vision he had in mind but it took him an hour, so he’s hardly going to erase it. Besides, it looks pretty fucking metal to him.

“Hey,” Eddie calls out, a bit soft. No pet-names used— most of the time boys didn’t like them and wrinkled their nose. Those that didn’t mind, never returned them. “Can I show you the sketch I’ve been working on?”

He pauses, then launches into an explanation without waiting for a response, “It’s for the new campaign I’ve been planning, one of the bosses, and honestly, those little shrimps have no idea what’s coming for them.”

Jared, still slouched on the bed, peeks up a bit at the noise. He hadn’t really been doing much, just leafing through some of the junk beside Eddie’s bed. If Eddie let himself hold any hope, he would say it’s because he wants to know more about Eddie.

“Huh?” Jared asks, genuine enough that Eddie thinks maybe he didn’t hear him.

“A DnD boss?” Eddie says, eyebrows raising. He barrels on, thinking about how Dustin had helped propose the new boss, with a grin spreading across Eddie’s face. “Dustin, the little twerp, challenged me to pick a random combination of creatures and mash em’ together- see what crazy abilities come from it.”

“Who’s Dustin?” Jared asks, failing to sound like he cares. His eyes have wandered elsewhere, head falling back on the pillow and Eddie’s initial question about the sketch is long, long gone.

Oof. And that’s like 3 failed bids at one time because Eddie talks about Dustin all the time. Jared clearly isn’t interested in Eddie Munson, just what he can offer. Eddie’s heart grows a little colder.

“Look, I think I’m gonna get going, yeah?” Jared says, maybe sensing Eddie’s mood change as he begins to sit up and tug his shirt back over his bare skin. His sticks his feet in his shoes, laces them up. Eddie nods, tucks his notebook behind him and walks him out, plastering on a smile the whole time.

After ambling down the stairs to the trailer, Jared turns back, after searching the surrounding area for leering eyes, and he reaches out and gives Eddie’s hand a squeeze. Just a split second, before it flies back to his side.

Eddie would like to believe that he’s at least worthy of a goodbye kiss. Even if some wicked part of his brain says he’s not, that boys like Eddie Munson don’t get sweet goodbye kisses. Don’t get good relationships, just mindless flings.

The thought makes hurt flares in his gut, Eddie so desperately trying to protect his hope, and so before Jared can say anything, some pitiful goodbye, Eddie leans out the doorway and says, “Don’t call me.” then slams the trailer door.

It follows him around for the next week, his own personal storm-cloud to keep his head grey even when it’s sunny out. He mopes to Robin about it during her shift, probably the only other person he can talk to about it.

“So, you tested him? What does that even mean? Is there a gay test you know about that you haven’t told me about? That would be so uncool, man.”

She’s talking as she types, half paying attention to the computer. Steve is out in between the shelves, putting out a new batch of films— Eddie knows because he’d instinctively sought him out when he came in. Harrington was a pretty boy, sue him for wanting to enjoy the view.

Didn’t help he was also decidedly declared not-a-douchebag by Eddie during the whole upside down spiel and had the duality of biting off that bat’s head and somehow being the world’s biggest sweetheart for his friends. Friends that now included Eddie.

 What can you say? Going through that much together, including killing a death wizard and getting dragged out of an alternate dimension certainly forms some strong bonds. Plus, Steve was hot.

(Eddie denies the crush on the basis that would. never. happen.)

At the reminder of Vecna, Eddie winces and supposes he should be lucky he gets any sort of attention after that whole scandal. But it doesn’t stop him from draping himself across the front counter, laying pathetically with a pout on his lips. He shakes his head fervently at her question.

“Not a gay test, Robin.” He stresses. “It’s the Eddie-Munson-is-this-boy-gonna-stick-around-test.”

He rolls up onto his elbows and props his head into his waiting palms. “Gotta make sure I’m not being treated like some common whore.”

It’s meant to be a joke, a usual joking lilt to his voice, but the end of the sentences comes out a bit too bitter to land that way.

Robin’s sympathetic expression makes Eddie’s chest twinge in a way he doesn’t like. He waves her off. Slumps back down a bit before deciding he’s done enough wallowing in the public eye.

Robin doesn’t say anything as he pulls out his usual notebook, pages weathered and filled. Eddie usually hangs around the store on days without plans, flits between Robin and Steve, and scribbles in his notebook. She bites her lip, gaze moving between the book and the resigned expression on Eddie’s face as he turns to the latest page— the strange hellhound troll mashed up boss.

“Okay, I’ll bite—what’s the test involve?” She asks, pausing in her typing for a moment. Her hands don’t stop moving, still stressing the fabric of her pants twitchily. Eddie perks his head up, clutching his pencil a bit tighter and rolls right into it.

“It’s not even really a test, technically, but doesn’t matter- that’s just what I call it - it’s like a bid?”

Robin raises her brows and they disappear under her fringe. “A bid?”

“Yeah! A bid!” He waves his arms around as he speaks, gesticulating a bit wildly. “It’s like— like asking them to come look at something stupid and small, just to see if they’ll give your interests time of the day, yanno?”

He punches a finger down into his sketchbook. “A guy who can’t even be bothered to look at a sketch I worked on for an hour? Douchebag.”

Eddie’s tone turns a bit sing-song as he continues, like it’ll somehow distract from the bleakness of them. “Ergo, not sticking around.”

Robin’s hands finally stop their messing, becoming completely still against her legs. She finally swivels her body to face Eddie, a furrow between her brows. Her lips are quirked up, just a bit, like she knows something Eddie doesn’t. He feels his apprehension grow as he slumps his chin back into his hands.

“You mean, like how Steve is with you?”

Eddie stands a bit straighter at that, some flushed combination of disbelief mixing with delight flooded his body.

“What?” It comes out a bit more squeaky than intended. Eddie clears his throat, waves his hands, anything to stop that smirk from spreading across Robin’s face — he can feel his cheeks glow a bit warmer at the mere idea. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Robin smiles a bit and nods over to where Steve is. “Try it, test him.”

Eddie follows her nod, casting his eyes across the store to find Steve. He finds him situated in the romance section, a pile of cardboard box stacked beside him, the top box open and ready to be unpacked.

But Steve’s clearly been distracted by the first film in the box — he’s sunk deep into his mom-stance with one hip popped, one hand on his hip, the other holding the film as he reads the back cover of it very intently.

Eddie watches for just a moment, watches Steve squint and pull the case just a bit closer, wrinkle his nose adorably, snort a little laugh at whatever he’s reading — and dammit, this is just a fast track to insanity if Eddie watches him any longer.

“Steve,” he calls, too hesitant and too quiet. Steve’s head doesn’t move, he just flips the cover back over, marveling at the front. Eddie tries again. “Harrington!”

Steve’s head pops up, eyes skirting about to see who’s calling him. He doesn’t move when he sees it’s Eddie calling, just raises his brows. “Yeah?”

Eddie swallows, tries not to think of Robin paying close attention to both him and Steve. He grips his notebook a bit tighter even though he’s not entirely convinced Robin’s right. Steve Harrington doesn’t like DnD — not even for Dustin who has self-proclaimed himself Steve’s ‘adorable little brother that he never had’. Steve is hardly going to care if it’s Eddie asking.

“Do you wanna take a look at this sketch I’m working on?” He asks, as casual as he can.

Steve’s features give away just a hint of surprise, a blink as he comprehends what’s been said. Eddie holds his breath, ready to turn to Robin and say ‘I told you so!’ and to pretend that he’s not secretly hoping Steve will say yes.

“Sure,” Steve says, slotting the film back into the cardboard box and beginning to meander between the shelves towards the front desk. Eddie doesn’t even get time to be surprised because Steve’s suddenly there, in front of him, all expectant.

Eddie opens his mouth, thinks the better of it, and snaps it back closed. Instead, he thrusts the notebook to the side along the countertop, opened to the page of the sketch and doesn’t say anything. In the background, Robin snorts lightly. Eddie shoots her a glare.

If Eddie could look at Steve, he’d see the lightly amused expression on his face, but Eddie only focuses on the book. Really focuses. God, if he looks at Steve he’ll probably get some stupid mooned expression on his face that would totally give away his tiny stupid not-a-crush.

In his peripheral, he can see Steve sidle a little closer and lean over to peer at the page. And while he looks over it intently, Eddie let’s his eyes drift up, taking in the side of his face.

Curses his stupid handsome face. Then curses it some more when Steve lights up in recognition, turning to Eddie, excited to have a sliver of an idea what Eddie’s showing him. Normally, it’s all mumbo-jumbo to Steve. Not that he hasn’t tried to keep up but those kids are ahead of the curve and Steve wasn’t about to embarrass himself asking them to slow down their explanations.

“Woah, is this that one that Dustin was talking about?” Eddie thinks there might be a bit of genuine excitement leaking into Steve’s words.

“The weird like, mashed up, uh, what’s the word? Hyp- hypb—“

“Hybrid,” Eddie supplies, voice cool. His heart is not feeling so cool. Jesus Christ, Steve wasn’t supposed to pass Eddie’s test— he wasn’t even supposed to be tested. In order for that happen, they’d have to even be fooling around and Eddie blames his building blush on that mere suggestion.

“Yeah!” Steve raps his knuckles against the countertop and takes a second look at the drawing, closer this time. He looks back up at Eddie, so he knows he’s completely sincere when he says, “This is really cool, man.”

“Okay.” Eddie breathes, sounding a bit stupid. He remembers himself, remembers Robin watching him essentially bluescreen at the praise from Steve and wrenches his awed smile into a familiar smug type of grin. 

“Of course it is, Steve-o,” He quickly amends, reaching back and tugging the notebook back. It’s closes with a quick snap, like Eddie’s afraid Steve will take another look. “She’s not finished yet, of course.”

Eddie had to bite his tongue to keep it from either taking an insanely egotistical route to pretend Steve’s praise hadn’t had a profound effect on him, or even worse, start trying to suddenly be humble — oh this ol’ thing? it’s nothing really, just threw it together quickly— Eddie nearly melts against the counter in relief when the bell on the front door saves him.

A customer enters the store, instantly taking Steve’s attention and he bounds off to help them, an easy smile on his face.

Eddie waits until Steve and the customer wandered off into the aisles to release his breath. He doesn’t look at Robin, just turns and presses his forehead down against the countertop. Then raises it just a bit, and thunks it back down, a couple of times for good measure.

“Okay, okay—“ Robin’s gone a bit wide eyed and she waves her hands at Eddie’s pathetic form, his head still bonking against the counter. “Stop doing that. Jesus, Eddie, are the dramatics always necessary?”

His motions stop at Robin’s words and Eddie’s whips his head up. He narrows his eyes at her, and as if to prove his point, exaggeratedly jabs a finger at her.

“Hey! Never deny my right to be a drama queen. It is my god given right as an American citizen—”

“He passed.” Robin says, cutting off what was about to be a very long rant about god knows what. Eddie just didn’t want her to say what she was about to. “Your test. He passed, didn’t he?“

That. He didn’t want her to say that.

“He’s being a good friend! A very good nice friend!” Eddie counters, only sounding a little bit whiny which takes half the conviction out of his words. He slams his hands down against the wood. “That test is for— it’s not for him! It’s for—”

An annoyed noise comes out of Eddie’s throat and he aims for one more thunk of his head against the counter before tugging it back up and meeting Robin’s smug expression. She’s too smug. Her whole face is smug smug smug and Eddie scowls. He points a deliberate finger at her again.

“Different context, alright? That—” He waves an arm behind him, in the direction of Steve carelessly. “—doesn’t count. Nope. Not- that’s not how the test works.”

Robin sighs, as if she realises how fruitless it is to keep chucking this argument between the two of them. Her hands finally resume their typing and Eddie lets his head drop again, this time resting it against the wood a tad more gentle. He slumps, blowing a pointless raspberry as he tries to evacuate every thought that’s entertaining Steve as more. Or Steve wanting more of Eddie.

“Look,” Robin says suddenly, halting her typing once more. Eddie rolls his head so he can see her but doesn’t bother to lift it. She’s sideways in his vision, but still barreling on in that Robin way. “One last thing and then I swear, I’ll leave it.”

Eddie raises his brows. Says nothing.

“Have you considered,” She pauses, and appears to be trying to pick her words carefully. “whether anyone else is putting their bids on you?”

Eddie wrinkles his nose, knowing exactly what she’s hinting at. Subtlety has never been Robin’s strong suit. It’s even more obvious when her eyes dart across the store — Eddie seriously doubts she’s talking about the random customer that had just entered.

“Just think about it?” She pleads, and Eddie feels his annoyance at how easily he can feel his heart roll over. “See if you notice any bids from... anyone! Anyone at all.”

Eddie picks his head up, chances a glance towards Steve and admits, there’s no harm in trying. Even though, Steve had surprised him today Eddie can find a dozen reasons to chalk that up to. A dozen reasons that don’t include mutual feelings.

Eddie mulls it over, because because what are the chances really? Steve putting bids out to him? To specifically Eddie? The chances are slim to none.

So the answer he gives is, “Sure.”

He’ll get to tell Robin later she can stuff it and wipe her smug expression off with the most righteous i told you so on the planet. There was no way she was right about this, right?

Part two. Part three.

#this is not nearly as edited as most things that come out this blog #but i was going for those rambly posts i see of them all da time #<3 #steddie my beloved #ruby writes steddie #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #posting this at an odd time bcos it’s not what da usual followers expect #anyways i trust the gay ppl…… they will find this

[lxclerc]

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

summary… charles tries to help his girlfriend study but that proves to be difficult when he doesn’t understand a single thing requested… yes! warning… none. pure fluff.

note… another old drabble request from the graves of my inbox. also as a med student, i adore this idea so much

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

charles has never been the brightest tool in the shed when it came to academics. he supposes it comes with the occupation. growing up, he cared far too much about racing that he had no space left in his mind to care about school too. he was always meant to be a formula one driver so he never cared about the cell or the mitochondria.

ironically, you were the exact opposite. like him, you’ve known what you were meant to be the moment you got ahold of your first book. you’re going to be a doctor, a healer and you’ve dedicated yourself to that dream.

the human body is a beautiful machine, much like the universe. every little cell and atom circulating its vessel holds a purpose, creating a balance between life and death. it’s majestic, truly and a little bit scary. if one thing failed then the entire system could collapse and so you studied and studied and studied for ways to keep that system going, to cure ailments and diseases.

you thrive off academic validation and a minor superiority complex and yet somehow you’re the most anxious person charles has ever met.

he’s madly in love with you. this is a fact. him and his dream that required him to constantly put his life at risk and you with your dream of helping and saving people. really it was a match made in heaven. and charles is madly madly in love with you.

that’s the only reasonable explanation as he pulled himself out of his sim practice, seamlessly moving around the kitchen of your shared apartment as he prepared an ice coffee for you.

you’re drained and you’re on the verge of breaking down and so when he wrapped his arms around you and offered to help you study for your finals, you’d all but cried in gratitude.

no, charles leclerc didn’t care about the cell and mitochondria and but he cares greatly for you and so he’d study it if it meant you’d finally allow yourself to rest.

unfortunately for him, you’re way past learning about the mitochondria. instead you’re studying your worst enemy aka pharmacology.

“angiotensin receptor blockers prevent vasoconstriction and aldosterone release, causing a decrease in blood pressure and peripheral resistance,” you recite from the top of your head, still looking like you’re on the verge of tears but slightly better.

charles shook his head as he held the book you’d given him to help you study, his glasses on. “non, non, amour. it says here it’s ‘angiotensin receptor blockers selectively bind to the angiotensin I receptors in the blood vessels to prevent vasoconstriction and in the adrenal cortex to prevent release of aldosterone then lead to decrease in BP caused by decrease in peripheral resistance and blood volume.’”

you sigh again but couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you. the first time he did it, you’d gotten frustrated but at this point, your brain is far too fried to even get annoyed at him. especially when even he looks like he’s about to start crying.

you pushed away the book from his hand, clumsily crawling over to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing him down so he’d be laying on the sofa and you on top of him.

“my love, i don’t need to memorize everything word for word from the book,” you explain as gently as you can for the third time. you know he’s just trying his best to help you.

“why?” he frowned. “wouldn’t it be better if you knew it exactly from the book?”

you giggled. “perhaps but no med student would ever survive memorizing twelve inch books word for word. we’d simply all break down and die.”

you hold yourself up, pushing his hair off his forehead before removing his glasses. he still looks confused but a lot of things honestly confused charles. thank god he has a smart girlfriend to explain everything to him.

“stop worrying about it,” you say. “i’ve studied enough and we both need a break.”

he sighed in relief, tightening his arms around you. “thank god i felt like my brain was put on a pressure dryer for a minute there.”

taglist: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @strelcka @writing-about-current-obsessions @amsofftrack @lostinketterdam @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16 @troybolton-14 @ohthemissery @dr3lover @myescapefromthislife @sunf1owerrq @the6ccnsp6cyy @t-nd-rfoot @navixfr @xjval @gridbunny

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x you #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 one shot

[lovinpelova]

embarrassed | j. fleming

summary; jessie's been acting weird all day at training, you need to force the explanation out of her. [SMUT]

🎵 let me explain - bryson tiller

"keep going."

you hummed in response against jessies neck whilst trailing gentle kisses along her pulse point, feeling her hands find purchase on your shoulders before trailing under your arms and wrapping themselves around your torso alongside her legs around your waist. the canadian moaned softly when you carefully bit down just under her shirt collar - knowing she would fuss if you left a mark somewhere visible - and your eyes flickered up to watch her head throw back in pleasure, a grin forming on your lips as she attempted to push you further down her body.

the moment was cut short by your alarm going off next to her, both of you groaning in annoyance as jessie quickly switched it off for the third time that morning. a wake-up like that meant you'd ignored your two previous warning alarms, so if you stayed in bed for another twenty minutes (which you were definitely going to do without the interruption) you'd be late for training. emma would not be happy with that.

"sorry baby, we gotta get ready."

"ugh! can i have one more kiss at least?"

you shook your head at her request, leaning down to kiss her sweetly before standing up and pulling her with you to get ready for the intense training schedule you had planned.

--------

emma started you guys off with a couple warm-up drills so you'd all had a feel for the ball, placing you into a rondo before switching into a game of two-touch with smaller groups assigned. once she felt you'd all had sufficient touches on the ball she moved into a simple shooting drill; pass the ball to your left for a 1-2 with your partner and shoot with your weaker foot no matter the positioning, then switch sides after everyone had a go.

normally flourishing in shooting drills that required the use of your weak foot, jessie was happy with emmas first choice of practice. she stepped up with niamh as her partner first, full of confidence, succeeding with the 1-2 due to niamhs pin-point accuracy and running onto the ball with her right foot planted beside it. she didn't feel herself hit the ball with as much power as she could - but she thought that wouldn't matter as she looked up in expectance of it going into the back of the net like usual - only for her to stand there dumbfounded when she hit a low shot that cleared the goal completely. she didn't even get the ball off the ground!

"it's okay jess, try again!"

emma encouraged, jessie moving back into place and once again succeeding in the 1-2, hearing a little cheer from yourself and erin to give her a final boost of confidence as she ran onto it. hearing your voice made her brain short-circuit and she missed the ball completely, falling flat on her arse as she huffed due to getting the wind knocked out of her. she laughed alongside the rest of the team, all of you quickly stopping and checking if she was okay as she got up and insisted she was fine with niamh walking to the back of the line with her.

"what's up with you today? you never miss shots like that, nevermind fall flat on your arse and get the wind knocked out of you."

"i'm just a little bit distracted, that's all."

jessie insisted politely, niamh giving her a knowing look as she wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"you sure it doesn't have anything to do with y/n? as soon as you heard her voice you fell over."

the canadian groaned in response to her best friends detective work, watching her celebrate as she knew she'd been right. knowing niamh wouldn't leave her alone until she told her what you'd done to distract her so much that morning, she made sure to take a step away from the others and lower her tone as you stepped up to take your turn in the drill.

"we were going to... you know this morning but we had to stop 'cus we were gonna be late."

niamhs face scrunched up in disgust at the mention of sex, jessie shoving her shoulder lightly with a bright red blush across her cheeks in response to the defenders laughter at her best friends situation.

"just say you're feeling sick so you can go home early with her-"

"no way i'm not missing training for sex!"

jessie whisper-yelled, watching niamh laugh at her sudden outburst as she smiled lightly in response when she replayed what she said. it was soon their turn in the drill again and jessie switched their positions without a doubt, passing the ball to niamh in a 1-2 and cheering on as she watched her rocket the ball past zecira into the net. the pair walked to the back of the line again and you gave them both a thumbs up, jessies grin widening in response as you winked at her cheekily.

emma put you all through a gruelling couple hours both in the gym and on the pitch, your only motivation being the champions league games that were coming up, she wanted to win that title with you before she left and it was obvious. by the time you'd finished and gathered all your things before heading home with jessie beside you, your hand comfortable on her thigh at her request, you were knackered. both of you collapsed onto the couch beside each other with a sigh of comfort, kicking your shoes off and throwing your kitbags to the floor.

"hey, what was up with you in training today?"

"what do you mean?"

the canadian replied weirdly fast, raising your suspicions. you could tell something was wrong with her the whole day, she'd been avoiding shots and missing passes, dropping weights in the gym and whispering things to niamh whenever she could.

"you've been off all day. is something wrong?"

"no, i'm fine- well, no nevermind it's nothing."

"no, jess. tell me what's wrong."

you requested sternly, sitting up properly to face her once you learned there was something upsetting her focus that day.

"it's embarrassing-"

"nothing is embarrassing with me, my girl. tell me."

the canadian met your eyes and began to blush furiously - even more than usual - before shaking her head shyly. you hummed in understanding, realising you weren't going to get it out of her with verbal encouragement.

"is there anything i can do to stop whatever it is from bugging you?"

"yeah."

jessie mumbled quietly, watching you move closer and take her hand in yours before nudging her to look at you. you nodded your head in a silent plea for her to go on, finally knocking down her walls that had come out of nowhere.

"well, this morning when we- you know we- i didn't get a chance to, erm- finish? and it's been really uncomfortable and annoying and the only thing i can think about when i've looked at you today."

you smiled softly at her as she looked down at your hands, everything finally making sense.

"jess, i though you'd calmed down or dealt with it yourself quickly before we left. you should've just told me we could have told emma i was feeling sick and needed you to look after me-"

"i'm not missing training for sex! it wasn't that bad."

"you literally fell flat on your ass seven times in ten minutes whilst trying to shoot from the penalty spot."

you looked at her dumbfounded as she smiled with you, watching her roll her eyes in fake annoyance. you squeezed her hand quickly to get her attention and felt a blush cover your own cheeks when her eyes met yours again.

"do you still want me to... help you? it's okay if not but just know i'm here if you need me for anything."

jessie sighed in frustration before pulling you into a heated kiss, obviously wanting you to help her relieve the pressure that had been building up all day. immediately kissing back and moving on top of her, the canadian smiled against your lips as her legs wrapped around your waist to have you as close as possible. she had you in the exact same position that morning and she wasn't intending to let you cut it short for a second time, so she broke away from the sloppy makeout session you'd quickly fallen into and pushed your head into her neck.

you smirked at her neediness as she threw her head back at the tiniest brush of your lips against the sweet spot just above her collarbone, your hands moving to take off her shirt before she redirected them with her own. she led them down underneath her training shorts and into her underwear, both of you moaning lowly at the feeling of contact.

"i need you now.'

she mumbled against your ear as your lips continued to scatter across her neck, fingers dipping in and out of her heat expertly before gliding up to her needy clit and rubbing it, a needy moan falling from her mouth. her hand reached your wrist again and pushed it down as she moved her head to look into your eyes, a pleading expression as she guided your fingers towards her entrance with a whine and pout.

"alright baby, i was just teasing. y'know how much i love to rile you up."

you pecked her lips a couple times and watched her bite back a grin when your fingers finally entered her, mouth falling open in a silent moan as you slowly started to move them. a couple moments later you sped up your pace to the exact speed you knew would have her falling apart in minutes, curling your fingers to find her g-spot and internally celebrating when she finally let out a guttural moan.

"breathe babygirl, deep breaths or this won't feel good. can you do that for me?"

the canadian nodded and slowed down her breathing as your fingers continued their movements, her nails clawing at your bare arms whilst she recovered from the initial shock of how good it felt to finally be getting fucked. you smiled down at her proudly and kissed her cheek, moving your thumb to rub at her clit as her nails nearly drew blood from you with how deep they went.

"good girl, doing so good for me."

"baby- keep talking to me like that. please-"

you chuckled into her ear cockily before she smacked your shoulder lightly, both of you laughing together for a moment before she pulled you down into a deep kiss. her hips bucked into your hand in request for you to go deeper, always wanting to make your girl happy you obviously followed her silent command.

"you like being called a good girl hm?"

"yes."

she breathily replied with a soft moan as you felt her starting to squeeze around you tighter with each thrust. you knew your girl well, and you knew she was too shy to say whenever she was close in fear of being too loud, so you examined her body to tell instead. that was one of the signs.

"you feel so good around me baby. done so well in training today, you deserve this for as long as you want."

jessie moaned out your name with a shuddering breath afterwards, legs tightening around your waist further as she started bucking her hips in time with your thrusts.

"stayed quiet about how much you needed me 'cus you didn't want me to miss training. so considerate baby, such a good girl."

"y/n/n!"

jessie screamed out your name as the high she'd been craving all day finally fell into her hands and travelled up her spine like a shiver, the impulses of pleasure shooting into her to make nails rake your skin, toes to curl, legs to tighten and bend for more access, head to throw back, jaw to go slack, eyes to roll- every physical response someone could have to an orgasm, jessie was having it.

you gently kissed her face and neck all over as she came down from her high, slowing down your fingers until she whined from the overstimulation before pulling them out and towards your mouth. jessie watched as you sucked her arousal clean off your digits, face turning more red than usual as she hid behind her hands in embarassment of how attractive she found it.

"feeling better now?"

"so much better."

you smiled down at her before giving her a sweet kiss, climbing off her and pulling her into your side to relax on the couch for the rest of the afternoon.

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[intheorangebedroom]

Tonight you belong to me, prologue

Summary: He comes to you every Friday, in a shady motel on the outskirts of town. 

This is the beginning of what you wished had no end.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader (OFC)

Rating: Explicit 🔞

A/N: Happy Frankie Friday, orange besties 🧡 See series masterlist for extensive a/n blurb and especially for trigger warnings. Tread carefully. Ily 🧡 Please be gentle, I'm terrified 🫣

Word count: 5.1k

[series masterlist] * [next]

Prologue: In The Beginning

He comes to you every Friday. 

He gets in after dark. He is gone before dawn. 

In this shady motel on the outskirts of town, where no one will recognise your car. The curtains are yellow, and the carpet is brown. There’s a dollar store painting of the Appalachian above the bed, and the tap runs either trickling and scalding or high pressure and cold. 

You hated that in particular, in the beginning. Now you don’t care. You don’t wash him off your skin anymore. Not until you’ve got no other choice. 

Because he can’t mark you, you’d been firm on that point, he likes to come on your skin. 

When he’d finally spoke, that very first time, he’d told you he was Frankie, but you assume it’s not his real name. Which is fine, you didn’t give him your real name either. 

“Frankie” had been far subtler than you, regretful, perhaps, you like to entertain the delusion, when he’d hinted that you couldn’t leave any trace on his body. 

And, in the beginning, you couldn’t imagine that it would ever matter. 

You were wrong. 

You were wrong about a lot of things, in the beginning. 

—

Friday night. Again. 

The swinging door creaks on its hinges to let in the regulars at random intervals. Mostly men, mostly middle-aged, mostly unshaven. Mostly clad in the working-class uniform of jeans, boots and t-shirt. Few of them sit around the round wooden tables. The bar isn’t large, there’s only four of those.  

When they come in small parties, the men favour the two pools on the right. They’re lined with blue felt. The casing is made of plywood. No one ever plays darts, no one ever feeds the jukebox. Its electric cord lays unplugged on the floor, coiled like a sad sagging tail. 

If they walk in alone, they tend to sit at the bar. Head turned toward the giant television screen hung on the wall to their left, where younger men in more colourful uniforms fight, run, kick or throw balls in all shapes and sizes. Its noise is at the forefront, the middle-aged men’s conversations a low humming sound that falls into the background. 

The long and angled bar itself takes up most of the rectangular room’s space. The counter is stripped-down to the bare minimum. Stainless steel, easy to clean, practical. Four beer taps and a gambling machine and beyond the counter, a large mirror with three rows of dusty liquor bottles. 

Food is served, occasionally, as evidenced by the paper napkins dispensers and the two yellow and red plastic condiment bottles on each table. 

The barman runs the place on his own. You drink here every Friday evening, and you’ve never seen more than six customers at once, you included. Admittedly, you might not be very observant. 

Being observant requires endurance, far more than you possess and are willing to deploy and direct towards others. You’re not selfish, not in the least. But you’re tired. You’ve been tired for years. There’s no rational explanation for your exhaustion. No honourable, awe-inspiring, valid ground. You don’t even know what wears you out. It might be sadness, disappointment, or boredom. Or all three in equal parts. All you know is that, come Friday night, your head needs the support of the gray wall behind you.

The creaking noise on your left signals the arrival of another customer, stomping in with a sure gait. Your eyes stay shut. You don’t come to the very aptly named Hole in The Wall seeking the company of other people, whoever they may be. 

You come here to hide for a few hours, between the styrofoam ceiling and the dusty carpeted floor. To drink your week away in peace, but not in nerve-racking silence. Alcohol, you found out at a young age, has interesting properties: it blurs out the sharp edges of your dark thoughts in just the right amount. 

Back in spring, when you stepped in here for the very first time, you looked comically out of place in your corporate attire, and you did raise quite a few eyebrows from the other patrons. Five months later, they must have learned to see past the charade of your overpriced clothes, because none of them pays you any mind anymore. It’s better than anonymity: it’s casual indifference.

You loosen your grip around your tall cocktail glass and let the condensation drip down onto the cardboard coaster. Reluctantly, you lift your weary eyelids to locate the square napkin lying somewhere on the table and dry your fingertips on it.

That’s when you see him taking a seat at the counter, directly across from your small table. 

Years from now, you will still remember the precise circumstances of your first, brief encounter, even though you’re not fully paying attention yet. Nothing indicates tonight will be any different. Nothing suggests you are about to live through a pivotal moment in your existence.

Details will stand out, however. Mostly visual, surprisingly, given the dim lighting of the place. The back of his trucker hat, midnight blue plastic mesh, flattening the dark curls on his nape. The washed out denim of his shirt, worked-in, greenish in the diffuse artificial light, pulled taut across his back, as he sits facing away from you. 

The square shape of his shoulders is backlit against the bar’s mirror. Your empty gaze finds the solid slope of his broad silhouette, and you let it rest there, lazily following his movements whenever he picks up his glass. It’s the same comfort you find when you rest your empty head against the hard wall. It’s aimless, inconsequential.

Later, on different kinds of Friday nights, the sight of his muscles bunching as he tugs off his shirt will bring you back to this very moment. The thought will reshape into a sharp, wistful ache deep inside your heart. What would have happened, to you, to him, if he had chosen to stop for a drink at another bar, somewhere further down the road? What if you had done the same, back in April? 

For now, your mind is blessedly blank.

Does he catch your reflection in the mirror? Does he feel your gaze on the back of his head? 

After a while, how long, you cannot tell, he pivots slowly on his stool, grounded and dense. Slowly, like a mountain would if a mountain came to life and decided to walk into the ocean. He doesn’t turn around completely, just enough to look at you, one of his arms still propped on top of the counter. 

The right side of his face is darkened by the shadow from the brim of his hat, but you can make out the pronounced crease in his brow. His eyes are black, and unfathomable, like the ocean at night, but alight with a bright glimmer. They find yours instantly. 

Something shifts inside your rib cage, something close to the heart, close to pain. 

You feel exposed, entirely bare. Your breathing subsides, you cannot move, trapped in a nightmare-like stretch of time as he glares down at you, immobile, impressive, gigantic. Dark eyes boring into yours. You’re drowning in them. 

You don’t want it to end. 

Inevitably, he breaks eye-contact, and swivels back toward the mirror. He sits still for a few seconds, before grabbing his glass to finish his beer in long gulps. 

You watch him lift his hat and brush his hair to the side with a large hand, and he’s out the door less than a minute later, without so much as a glance in your direction, a conscious choice, given the minute proportions of the place. 

He leaves you sitting there, with your brow pinched and your empty drink, struggling to understand the rippling effects of his massive presence on your body and your brain.

You bring your fingers to your chest and rub them over your sternum, where the shifting sensation continues to prickle. 

Neither a second drink nor a third helps dull the feeling, but a fourth one is not an option if you want to get home without a DUI. 

It follows you into the darkness of the deserted parking lot, on the drive home and into the glass prison of your clinically clean apartment. It’s there when you get into bed, when you lie wide awake at 3am next to your sleeping fiancé, and it’s still there when you wake up, hungover and sore, four hours later. 

Nestled between your lungs. The memory of his cold hard stare. Of his soft sad eyes. 

It bypasses your most foolproof diversions of painful pleasure and pleasurable pain. Your attempts at hard work and your compulsive distractions. It robs you of your appetite, of your lucidity, of your ability to rest. It corners you in the first floor toilet of your office building on a Thursday morning, on the verge of a panic attack, until you consider calling your sister for help. 

Ava would figure it out. She’d get you out of that loop in which you’ve locked yourself up, she’d know what to say. With her crude words and her unforgiving formulations, she’d admonish your silly overreaction and dismissively rebuke your daydreams over a mundane interaction, probably throwing in something about your heteronormative fantasies. 

Dude, you’re all worked up because of a staring contest with a rando in a dive bar? she’d say. She’d toss the rhetorical question at your face, you can hear her as if you’ve already sweated through the conversation. 

She’s often harsh but she’s always right. 

And normally, you’d be seeking that out. For your little sister to bully some good sense back into your nebulous brain. 

But something has shifted. 

Dark curls, thick fingers, flexing shoulders. Solid arms. Cold, hard stare. 

He abraded something on the surface of your skin, and you don’t think you’re capable of withstanding Ava’s sarcasm in your current state. 

By the following Friday, you feel so vulnerable you consider going to another place, or not going out at all. 

Only, the alternative is worse. 

You walk into The Hole in The Wall convinced that your unsteady gait is betraying your apprehension, squinting to adjust to the dim light of the place. The bar is nearly empty, as always, save for a couple of bearded graying men you vaguely recall having seen here before. They all look the same to you, anyway. Another thing you hate about yourself.

The barman tells you to sit while he prepares your drink. The gesture is kind but uncustomary, and it only serves to increase your uneasy feeling. 

Within an hour of waiting, because that's what you've been doing, you register with an icy trickle of shame dripping down your sides, you realise he won’t be coming. 

That man’s presence here last week is the very definition of sheer happenstance. Nothing more. Nothing else. If anything, you’ve been a nuisance to him, ogling him while he was simply trying to unwind with an afterwork drink. 

You’ll never see him again. 

And it’s fine. You’ll move on, drift back into drifting, avoiding at all costs to process what happened to you when you met his gaze. The tree hiding the forest. 

When you walk up to the counter to order your second drink, the question slips away from you. 

“Can I have the same thing the man in the trucker hat had last Friday, please?”

The barman looks up at you from the tray of clean dishes he's pulling out of the dishwasher and he huffs. He’s handsome, by most standards, you notice for the very first time. Very tall, and broad, green-eyed with a three-day stubble. He’s probably a couple of years above forty. His head is shaved bald. He’s manly in a burly, albeit fatherly way. 

“Oh sweetheart, d’you know how many guys with a trucker hat I see here every day?”

It’s not meant to make you feel small, his tone is gentle. It’s a straightforward, factual answer. 

“What do you wanna drink?” he asks when you don’t answer. “Tired of that G&T yet? Cos I got good beer. This is a beer place, you know? Wanna try a light blonde, to start? Something stronger? An IPA?”

What do you want. You’ve been drinking gin all your life because that’s what your mother always has. Starting at 5pm in the afternoon. Would you, indeed, like to try a light blonde? Something stronger? An IPA, to start? 

It’s a brand-new world unfurling in front of you, a yellow brick road paved with what-do-you-wants.

“Sure,” you nod, “I can try an IPA.”

—

The barman goes by the name of Mark. He’s also the owner of The Hole in The Wall, you learn. Bought the place two years ago, after a painful divorce. A cliché, he adds, with a charming, self-deprecating smile.

The interaction’s short and altogether not unpleasant, and the beer, to your surprise, is fresh and enjoyable. It’s much tastier, in fact, than the cheap, tepid gin you’ve been sipping so far. It gets you drunk just as fast, but this time when you leave the bar, your mind is quiet, if not at ease. 

The following week, a heatwave hits the Tampa Bay. The melting asphalt sticks to your leather soles, like your sweaty clothes to your clammy skin, like your brooding mood to your dampened dreams. In a couple of days eventually, August will draw to an end, but the summer won’t end with it. It never truly does. It taunts you all year round, a sweltering reminder of how much you hate living here.

And if it wasn’t for the humidity, you’d be jogging the short distance between your car and the cool haven of the air-conditioned bar. 

You push the swinging door forward, eyes shut in anticipation of the blinding darkness and you stand in the entrance for a few seconds. The familiar and comforting smell of moldy dust mixed with beer yeast greets your senses as you take in the chill air grazing your naked arms. 

And then you reopen your eyes. 

He’s here. 

Trucker hat, blue jeans, gray T-shirt. Different clothes, same silhouette. He’s sitting at your table, his position a magnified echo of yours two weeks ago, hand loosely wrapped around his pint, seemingly asleep with his head propped against the wall. 

Mark looks at you and tilts his head in his direction, wiggling an eyebrow with a silent question of “Is this the guy you were asking about?”

Your breathing’s so loud you think everyone must hear it over the droning television. Mark’s brow furrows with incomprehension at the alarm widening your eyes, and you anchor yourself to his face, walking toward him in slow motion, climbing on the first high stool you reach.

“Hey. You ok?”

You stretch your lips in a wince of a smile.

“So? What will it be today? Wanna try a Free Dive? It’s local.”

You nod in silence, but then he grabs a large glass, and you ask tentatively, “Can I have only half a pint?”

Fuck, your mouth is so dry.

Behind you, to your right, you feel more than you hear the man shift in his chair.

Mark sighs, his left hand paused on the tap handle. 

“I don’t have beer glasses this small, sweetheart. Get a pint, the first one’s on me, okay?”

You reiterate your silent nod. He places the beer in front of you, and you swallow the first swigs too quickly. The back of your throat throbs with the fast flowing intake of the cold liquid, or perhaps it’s because of the frantic beating of your heart.

He’s getting up now, you can tell by the friction sound of the chair dragging on the carpeted floor, and your frightened expression turns downright pleading as you hear him close the distance between you.  

He’s at your back, sliding his thick naked arm past yours to return his empty glass to the counter. His movements are slow, deliberate. You get a whiff of his scent, a masculine musk, with a faint smell of laundry detergent, it’s wholesome, safety, comfort. You turn your head. He’s looking at you. Looking at you with intent.

He’s so tall you have to lift your chin to hold his gaze. Hard cold stare, soft sad eyes, it’s swirling violently inside your exhausted chest and he’s leaving again already, walking toward the door like nothing just happened.

He pulls it inward and you watch him exit the bar into the dusk light.

Did he come back for you? Are you going insane? 

Sixty-seven seconds. Sixty-seven seconds is the time it takes you to decide your next move. The one that’s going to forever change your life. The one that could be everything or turn out meaningless. 

“I’ll be right back,” you tell Mark, sliding your handbag on the counter and you stand up to follow him outside.

The sunset sky is a pink shade of orange. Shadows are stretching long onto the asphalt, drawing a distorted world upside-down. 

He’s not here anymore, you waited too fucking long. You quickly scan the parked vehicles on the other side of the road to your right, and the parking lot in front of you, but it’s empty, save for your anthracite sedan, a black truck and what you assume must be Mark’s old SUV, because you see it every week. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out, pressing your fingers to your sternum. 

You look to your left, where the parking ends. There’s a white utility vehicle advertising a plumbing service and a dark blue city car. Beyond them, the lot extends into a narrow stretch of gravel behind the small rectangular building. There’s a pile of junk, and the tailgate of a red truck.

Your hand drops to your side and you start walking toward it, going around the white van. 

He’s there. He’s waiting for you by the front of the red truck, behind the building. His hands propped on his waist, head down, hidden under his cap. 

You keep walking toward him, the sound of your shoes on the dirty ground grating your ears, but you stop short when he raises his head, fuck he looks even taller at this distance, with his elbows spread.

It’s like he senses your apprehension, or perhaps he shares it, because he folds his arms over his chest, hugging himself. 

For the very first time, you can fully make out his face. Strong features, a strong curvy nose, a patchy beard peppering a sharp jaw, and plush lips. Your gaze follows the solid column of his neck down to his suprasternal point peeking above the V-collar of his worn-out t-shirt, before it’s drawn back to his eyes.

He stands there perfectly still for you to detail.

Above you, the sky has turned a rusty blue. The humidity is stifling. It’s Friday the 30th, 2019, 8.17pm.

“What do you want?”

His voice is deep, and low, barely louder than a murmur yet intense, his words full and round. 

The question, however legitimate, hits you square in the solar plexus, right under your aching sternum. You fear that if you don’t speak fast enough, he’ll leave you again, alone with the memory of his soft sad eyes and his hard cold stare. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper, and god, if it’s true, what are you doing here? 

He huffs, and it’s the very sound of disillusion. His eyes grow dimmer, you think you’re not the one darkening them. Unfolding his arms, he removes his hat and takes a step closer, then another. You could touch him, if you reached out with your arm stretched. 

He looks at you like he’s already seen how your story ends. 

You could back away. You don’t. 

He moves slowly, thick body thrumming with undiluted strength and unreleased tension, eyes searching yours, giving you the time to leave, should leaving be what you choose, should you turn around and run before the hanging threat breaks like dark stormy clouds and drench you soaked. 

He slowly moves forward until he’s towering over you, until his chest touches your breasts, until the pilled cotton of his t-shirt catches at the satin material of your blouse. His scent floods your senses, he leans down into the curve of your neck and inhales you there, long, deep, unhurried. You hold your breath, still, in turn, for his exploration, nails digging into your palms, heart tripping.  

And then, he touches you. With his lips, a feather-like caress over the soft skin under your ear. Your eyes flutter shut, your thoughts are suspended.

“This what you want?” he murmurs.

His words sink under your skin, they harden your nipples, raise goosebumps on your nape in the muggy evening heat.  

“Yes.”

The cap falls onto the gravel. His hands go to your hips. Clutching you there with a rough grip and he’s tugging you closer, flush to his chest. He licks up a broad stripe along the line of your throat, pivots with you in his arms and backs you into the side of the truck, you have to grab his forearms to keep your balance. 

A guttural sound catches in his throat, like a grunt he tries to hold back, for your touch, for the taste of your skin, for your pliant docility.

Your head rolls back, you’ve gone weeks without a skin on skin contact, and now this man is hunched over you, his body swallowing yours, this stranger who’s infected your dreams with his cold hard stare and his soft sad eyes, his mouth roaming the expanse of your throat, short beard prickling your skin, and the shifting sensation inside your chest drops to your core where it catches fire.

His kisses are lips, teeth and tongue, rough and scraping at you raw in all the right ways, they trail up along your neck, under your jaw, and when they find your lips, he presses you harder into him. He tastes like beer, unfamiliar, you want to get used to it. 

The seams of your blouse strain when he pulls it out of your skirt with an impatient tug. His hands slither under the hem and find the naked skin of your back. His palms are strong, rugged and scalding and his fingertips calloused, they make your skin sizzle underneath their pressing, crackle like snapping wood, like fireworks at a summer county fair, like sweet candy wrapping. 

You're leaking hot and sticky between your hips, responding with your entire body, opening up for him, letting his tongue in past your lips with pathetic grateful little moans, winding your arms around his shoulders, over the cording muscles of his back, musky sweat dampening his t-shirt. The thick, solid shape of him, that got etched behind your eyelids.

You’re a want and a need and an empty flutter, entangled with him, whoever he may be, his tongue swirling inside your mouth, the scrape of his teeth on your lower lip, his splayed hands covering your back, his knee spreading your legs open. 

He’s voracious, harsh in his own need, snatching from you what you’re already willing to give, angling your head with a sharp pull on your hair to deepen his kiss, grunting his approval when you moan at the sting. 

Arousal keeps dripping down your fold where his thigh prods firm and brawny against the black material of your skirt that hinders the pressure. 

He growls, frustration rumbling low and menacing inside his throat. He grabs your ass and squeezes, thick middle finger pushing against the fabric of your clothes into the cleft between your cheeks and you jolt, leaping forward further into him. His belt buckle bites into the soft flesh of your belly, right where you're burning empty and wanting and shameless for him. You feel him hot and hard against your hip, and he tightens his hold, cages you within him. 

He’s big all over, larger than life proportions, you surrender to the fact with your lust-drunk mind, from the height of his frame to the girth of his sex, from his grip on your senses to the sorrow in his eyes. 

It blooms inside you like pain, blossoms of mahogany red spreading along your limbs in relentless waves, the power he already wields over you and you don’t even know his name.  

You buck between his arms, a first and very last attempt at freeing yourself, unconvincing with the scrap of your fingernails along the pebbled skin of his neck, and you press back into him again, squirming against his throbbing length, offering him some friction.  

He pulls out all of sudden, breaking the kiss, and you're left panting, ankles swaying, you’d drop to the gravel without the support of the truck, still sun-warm in the early evening, yet colder than his feverish body. 

He shakes his head with a silent no, his shoulders heaving, a wordless warning hissed through his clenched bared teeth. The simmering anger under the surface only makes you want him more, the unyielding restraint shining dark in his eyes.  

But it’s over. You know it. He gave you this, and took it back. With shaky hands, you smooth down the wrinkles of your blouse where he’s bunched it in his fists. You lick his taste off your trembling lip. You will not cry. 

He shakes his head again, you watch him through welling tears, confused, eyes flickering between his. 

Behind him, the city car’s engine revs up to a start, aggressive headlights backlighting him. His throat bobs up and down in chiaroscuro as he swallows hard. You know what you must look like in the crude white light. Supplicant, dependent, awaiting. Disheveled by his hand. Tires grate on the gravel as the car reverses away from you into the night, and with it the headlights, leaving you standing in the brown city night, urban semi darkness, and you see him shut his eyes. 

He smiles, a puzzling, sorrowful lift of his plush lips, and a new sort of ache washes over you. You raise forward on your tiptoes to peck a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. His entire frame quivers for you. A muscle clenches in his jaw, the deepening crease in his brow redefines his traits in shadows. 

He leans into you, like he wants you but he doesn’t want to want you, like he’s giving in but not entirely, because giving in would be the end of him, of you.

The flat of his palm to the swell of your breast, and he kneads your soft flesh, slowly at first, growing urgent. The back of your head hits the truck’s window when he pinches your nipple, hard, with two fingers, and you bite down a moan. 

He’s engulfing you again, lips latched around your other nipple, tongue swirling and licking through your blouse and your thin bra and you hold on to him, you cling to his frame when he bunches up your skirt around your waist, leather boot nudging your foot to the side, cock throbbing on your hip, slick dripping down your walls. 

“Stop me,” his mouth brushes the shell of your ear. It’s not a dare, it’s not a plea, it’s your last chance to back down before the free fall. 

Your pulse stutters, you arch into him without hesitation, but he pins you back against the truck with his chest, cupping you through your underwear and he curses into your neck at the sticky leaking mess he finds there.

Your naked leg hitches up rigid and tense against his leg, curled fingers, curled toes, and he hooks his index into the cotton of your panties. 

A brief stroke of his knuckles into the soft, smooth dip between your sex and your inner thigh, unexpectedly tender, before he parts your soaked lips with his two middle fingers, coating them in your sticky slick desire, and he sinks them inside your empty cunt. 

You crumble around the intrusion, forehead hitting his collarbone, slack-mouthed, a short exhale of a silent “oh.” He brings his left hand to the crown of your head and cradles you there, while his fingers pump in and out of your heat fast and rough. His thumb glides through your folds and starts rubbing at your clit, deft and precise, and you shudder between his arms, you slump into his hold. 

He keeps stroking your hair, gentle soothing sounds murmured into your ear as he fucks you raw with his hand, attuned to your moans and your every reaction, gauging what you can take before his fingers curl deeper inside your cunt, merciless, thumb pressing tight circles on your bud at an increasing pace.  

Your breathing comes in ragged and short while his intensifies. It’s pouring into your ear hot and overwhelming and you’re dissolving. Sweat beading at your temples, heat raising from his exerted muscles. 

You focus on the sensation of his flexing muscles under your clawing hands to stave off your building orgasm, it’s growing bright and blinding, searing and violent but it’s inevitable, and soon, too soon, your release flows hot and sticky into his hand. Your whines resound inside his chest but he keeps going, low husks of shhh, come on now, that’s it, until your trapped body trashes with the overstimulation.  

It’s like he can’t let go, pressing his nose heavily to the side of your face, and you struggle to resurface, blood thrumming in your veins, his angry cock pulsating against your hip. 

You let out a dry sob when he slides out of you and the rubber band of your panties slaps your sensitive skin. You don’t miss the flat drag of his tongue licking your taste off his palm, you furrow your fingers deeper into his arm with a short clench of your eyes. 

“Fuck,” your hear him quietly groan, and his fingers disappear into his mouth. 

You want to stay tucked up against him, curled up into his hold. You could live the rest of your life there, you think, between his hands and his scent, between his chest and his truck. 

You lock your ankles and your knees, hoping they will not fail you and you stand, pushing away from him and into the side of the truck. You readjust your skirt, slide it down, palm it smooth. Brush the damp hair from your forehead with the back of your trembling hand.

In your peripheral, he’s leaning down, picking up his hat from the ground and combing his fingers through his hair before he sets the cap back on his head.

You look up dazed and heavy-lidded and you brace yourself before meeting his gaze, cold hard stare, soft sad eyes, and he says,

“I’m Frankie.”

****

Bonus (having déjà vu? that's normal 😝 Gonna use this gif at the end of every first chapter I manage to yank out of my crazy in love brain):

Taglist (thank you 🧡 if you don't wish to be tagged anymore, just drop me a DM 🧡): @elegantduckturtle @mashomasho @lola766 @nicolethered @littleone65 @the-rambling-nerd @saintbedelia @pedrostories @trickstersp8 @deadmantis @hbc8 @princessdjarin @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @gracie7209 @mrsparknuts @mylostloversbookmarks @its-nebuleuse @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine @all-the-way-down-here

#tonight you belong to me #happy frankie friday #tybtm #Francisco Catfish Morales #frankie morales #the pilot™️ #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales / fem!reader #frankie morales / you #frankie morales / ofc #triple frontier fic #triple frontier #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic #frankie friday #will miller #benny miller #santiago pope garcia #william ironhead miller #triple frontier fanfiction

[silverflqmes]

໒⦂ 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄’𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐂𝐒.

synopsis. valentine’s day ( haikyuu version ). ever wonder how the haikyuu boys would spend the so called romantic holiday with you?

genre. fluff + crack

for @melukonova , @hearts4yuji / @kozuwhore , @reawakened-goddess , @diorlumx <3

ft. tooru oikawa, hajime iwaizumi, kotaro bokuto, daichi sawamura, koshi sugawara

gender neutral! reader.

➫ 𝓞𝗜𝗞𝗔𝗪𝗔 𝓣𝗢𝗢𝗥𝗨 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ oh you’re getting spoiled, that’s for certain. he’s got plans that involve chocolate, flowers, and a very cute plushie of himself<3

⌗ lots of kawa hugs and hand holding!! i stand firmly w the fact that he gives the absolute best hugs cuz he’s just so cuddly and sweet aaaa❤️

⌗ “happy valentine’s day my love~ today you get all of my affections for the price of your own!”

⌗ for a surprise date, he would take you out to a botanical garden and tell you the meanings of each flower that further conveys his love for you. isn’t he the sweetest? YES HE IS SHUT THE FUCK UP BC TOORU IS THE SOFTEST MOST INNOCENT BOYFRIEND EVER🙁❤️ but like i mean when he’s antagonistic i mean🤭 ANYWAY-

⌗ ahem, furthermore i believe pocky will make an appearance, maybe strawberry flavor!! and he will share his box with you.

⌗ finally down to the last stick, he would look at you with a smirk before letting out the most exasperated sigh.

⌗ “oh no, oh no y/n-chan.. there’s only one stick left! what other choice do we have but to share.. care to make it a competition, hm?”

⌗ he won. no further explanations needed.

➫ 𝓘𝗪𝗔𝗜𝗭𝗨𝗠𝗜 𝓗𝗔𝗝𝗜𝗠𝗘 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ ah, iwa-chan.. the poor thing had to go to his dearest best friend a week beforehand for advice.. a tragedy, truly.

⌗ after a few threats to give his friend another injury to worry about, however, the wing spiker received all the necessary information and ideas required to execute valentine’s day to perfection for you!

⌗ hajime opted for a rather simple approach to valentine’s day that started with a letter he would hand to you. a formal invite to his home with an rsvp thing there as a joke LMAO he’s so silly

⌗ his cheeks were burning with red, a pout evident on his visage as his brows knitted together — something you found completely and utterly adorable as he asked you to read his note.

⌗ it was a heart clenching sight as you opened up a cute nintendo themed card that had happy valentine’s day written with a few silly video game puns. and just like that, his plans were revealed to be a date at home with the wii and any video games of your choice, since you liked them so much.

⌗ it was needless to say, that despite being rather decent in video games, especially mario related ones that he grew up on.. his skills dropped BELOW noob level because all he could focus on was you.

⌗ you just looked so happy playing, and the twinkle in your eyes made it impossible not to stare.

⌗ for each time that you whined at his lack of awareness, he would just laugh and say it was too hard to focus when your smile was right beside him. something he would much rather look at.

     ➫    𝓑𝗢𝗞𝗨𝗧𝗢   𝓚𝗢𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗢   ୨୧   ˎˊ˗

⌗ his valentine’s day wishes for you was over the top, on behalf of the fukurodani volleyball club wishing you with cute posters once you’d arrived at the gym that day to see your boyfriend — who was acting weird all day because he wanted to tell you so badly..

⌗ his plans for today were to take you to a trampoline park! it just sounds super fun and he wants to show off a little.. but he ends up losing dodge ball to some kids😭

⌗ bokuto emo mode ensues.. but then he remembers you’re there and brightens right up again LMAO he’s so simple when it comes to you fr

⌗ took you to a bakery afterwards to get you your favorite desserts — and because he might have wanted some too.. come on, he can’t help it when they just looked so so good!

⌗ on the way home, you guys petted some kitties along the way and even commented that some resembled your friends back at nekoma high

⌗ he gifted you a light and dark gray owl plushie holding a rose as your gift and as a reminder of him always being there for you!!

⌗ “there you go, y/n-chan! now you’ll always have me with you and when you’re feeling down, just look at plush!”

⌗ valentine’s day ended off that night with long needed hug and the promise of seeing each other once more at practice the next morning<3

➫ 𝓢𝗔𝗪𝗔𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝓓𝗔𝗜𝗖𝗛𝗜 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ after some pushing from his trusted setter, koshi, to do something special, daichi finally got the courage to actually do something sweet for you this year

⌗ what are his plans, you might wonder? it’s simple, yet lovely. he found this spot where the sunset is prettiest in miyagi, and decided to take you there after preparing a nice late lunch at home and homemade chocolates that suga helped him make earlier in the week

⌗ he gave you your favorite flowers first thing that morning at school and a kiss on your head with a small grin

⌗ the team, however, didn’t fail to fluster him with their giggles and snickers as he yelled at them to get back to training..

⌗ it brought a laugh and smile to your face regardless, to see your boyfriend looking as silly and cute as he did, flustered despite how he normally carried himself

⌗ at last, the time came for your date and you were incredibly excited for where sawamura would be taking you. it was almost dusk, but that was exactly what he waited for

⌗ the two of you sat together on a blanket ( and one around you as well ) he’d brought with two cups of hot coco he’d poured out of a thermos he brought and shared a nice meal he’d prepped once he got home from school that day

⌗ the change of color in the sky was a beautiful sight, and yet he found himself looking over at you, a soft smile on his lips that he was able to spend the way with you

     ➫    𝓢𝗨𝗚𝗔𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗔   𝓚𝗢𝗦𝗛𝗜   ୨୧   ˎˊ˗

⌗ he has seen enough romcoms, listened to loads of taylor swift and scrolled through hella cheesy couple related posts on pinterest to be able to devise the perfect valentine’s day outing with you!

⌗ koshi brought you chocolate covered strawberries he’d prepared the evening prior to valentine’s day all wrapped up in a pretty box with a note attached that conveyed his valentine’s day wishes for you<3

⌗ for his plans, he’d decided on taking you shopping at the mall and to a restaurant of your choice as his treat to you before taking you to karaoke

⌗ whatever music you like, he’d be happy to sing it with you and just have a super good time worth cherishing as memories<3

⌗ he’d searched up online which flowers to best express his love and created a bouquet for you that he would have had with him when he went to pick you up for your date

⌗ “ahaha, too much? happy valentine’s day, dearest y/n-chan!”

⌗ lots of hand holding, his hands are super soft and taken care of since he’s a setter and his hugs send you on cloud nine, he’s just so soft<3

⌗ it’s rather late when your finish your date, and he finds difficulty in allowing the day to end since he wants to be with you longer.. so you both have a sleepover woooo✨

notes. weehee happy valentine’s day brought you by some of the haikyuu boys because they are free therapy, wym it’s just a volleyball anime? anyways, also dedicated a bit to my girliepops, their favs🫶 enjoy<3

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

#— ; 🏹 ) haikyuu fics. #— ; 🏹 ) aoba johsai. #— ; 🏹 ) fukurodani. #— ; 🏹 ) karasuno. #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa #hq #haikyuu!! #haikyuu fluff #iwaizumi #sawamura #sugawara #bokuto #bokuto x reader #sugawara x reader #sawamura x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #sawamura daichi #sugawara koshi #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #aoba johsai #seijoh #karasuno #fukurodani

[thefunkyspoon]

Humans are Weird

Ok, so everyone's talking about humans being super freaky to aliens, but what about neuro-divergent humans? Like, an ADHD-er is sitting in their room, completely still, while they have a task to do. Not a hard one, and certainly one they could easily do, but their brain just *won't let them.* Because executive-dysfunction sucks.

And like, an alien (let's call him Quĺ) walks in, and is super confused.

"Human Emma? Why have you not cleaned your pod, are you sick?" Quĺ asks, his one eye furrowed as he peers at the human lying on the ground.

"Are you sleeping? I'm aware that is a thing humans do, though I didn't know they did it with their eyes open." His confusion increases, as Human Emma sits up, and lifts her lips up, which is apparently a form of greeting to humans, though it was a bit horrifying to the aliens.

"Hm? Oh, hi. Er...yeah, that." Human Emma says, her cheeks tinged with a slight pink. "Sorry. I haven't been able to do it today." She mumbles, and looks around her messy pod.

"What do you mean, 'haven't been able to do it'? You're not injured, yes?" Quĺ inquires, examining Emma with a concerned look. To his surprise, the human laughs, a distraught sound to Quĺs.

"Oh, no. It's just... a thing some humans deal with, I guess? It's odd." She explains.

This confuses Quĺ even more; he wasn't aware humans just...couldn't do things sometimes, even if they *could.*

"I'm not sure I understand. Are you feeling well?" He looks really confused, as this wasn't a thing he was aware of. For aliens, this was an unheard of concept. If they had a task, and had all means to complete it, they did. And he had seen humans do the same thing, so why was this different?

"Yeah, I'm fine." Emma reassures him.

Quĺ decides to ask another human what's the issue. He calls out to Human Greg, an older human. Maybe he could explain?

Human Greg walks to her pod upon request, and asks what's needed of him.

"Well, Human Emma was given her weekly task of maintaining her pod, as we all are. Though, it's been all day, and it hasn't been completed. Is there a reason humans do this?" Quĺ asks, still unsure what was wrong.

"Well, is Emma feeling well? Emma, are you sad?" Human Greg asks Emma, and sits on the floor beside her, giving her a reassuring smile. This only made Quĺ more curious. What did that have to do with anything? It's a feeling, but she could still complete it, right?

Emma shakes her head, a movement that means "no" to humans. Quĺ had learned it was best to not question humans odd behaviors, but sometimes he couldn't help but ask.

"No, my ADHD is just acting up. Sorry, I could've explained this to Quĺ." Human Emma says, and Gred smiles and nods understandingly. But this made no sense to Quĺ, and he was concerned by now. What was ADHD? Was it an illness? Could he catch it? Was she sick?

"ADHD??What does that mean? Do all humans have it? Are you okay??" Quĺ was increasingly dumbfounded, and required an explanation ASAP.

"Oh, do you aliens not have a similar thing? Here, let me explain..." Emma explains what it is, and how it affected life, and how not all humans had it. Apparently, it was a 'neuro-divergent thing', which was something that also needed to be explained to him. He was reassured (again) that everything was fine, and she would try to do it soon.

Quĺ eventually understood, or got enough info to not worry, though it was still a confusing concept. He was not aware Human Emma had this "ADHD", and wondered on who else had it. He asked Greg, who denied it.

It was also quite odd for him, because some other humans, such as Human Sophie and Human Nick acted just as confused and even uncomfortable with her, even though it was nothing new to them. Why was that? Quĺ eventually left, feeling a bit better now that he had an explanation. Everytime one of the humans acted rude to Human Emma because of her "ADHD", they would get glares from most aliens, who were notified of the situation. They also made accommodations to Human Emma, as she could get overestimulated easily. They did this by acquiring soundproof headphones for her, and a sensory room where she could calm down. Human Emma was confused as to why they did this, as she was not used to people simply normalizing it, and treating her normal when discussing it.

This angered Quĺ, as it seemed like common sense to him and most other Quĺs.

Human Greg helped Emma clean her pod after an hour, assuring her it was no big deal. This made Quĺ happy, and returned to his station as a mechanic.

The End! <3 hope you enjoyed it

#humans are weird #adhd memes #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #adhd brain #reading #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #bookworm #im tired

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Lucky Break Chapter 3

Yandere Straw Hats x fem!Reader

4.5k words

Beginning / Previous / Next

I was really hoping to get Orange Town Arc wrapped up in this chapter, but it appears that writing for One Piece has given me Oda’s pacing.

How could this even be possible? How did a disembodied arm stab Zoro? You clung onto the cage Luffy was in, feeling nauseated at the sight. Unlike when he had cut Buggy, blood was immediately flowing from the wound. Zoro stumbled from the attack and reached behind him to try and remove the dagger, but the arm ripped it out and flew away.

You could only watch in abject horror as Buggy’s body floated until he was in an upright position. He laughed loudly at the confusion on your faces, “The Chop-Chop fruit is the name of the devil fruit I ate, so now I’m a person who can never be cut!” His body readily attached itself back together (and his clothes too somehow), all while he continued to cackle.

Another one of those weird fruit things? Are all of them this disturbing to witness? You hope you never have to see another person with these cursed abilities ever again. 

“A chop-chop person? Is he some kind of monster?” Luffy was, as per usual, not reacting to the given situation with anywhere near the severity required. 

You reached through the bars to swat at him, “You’re all rubbery! Are you a monster too?”

“No, I’m a rubber person, it’s different,” he says like you’re dumb and simply didn’t understand. Well, to be fair though, you didn’t understand a damn thing going on right now. Was your life always filled with such bizarre events? Surely this wouldn’t be so shocking if you had been used to such things.

Wait, there is way too much going on right now for you to be getting distracted like this, you look up only to see Zoro lifting the cannon, flipping it so that it’s aimed towards the other pirates. How he was able to casually lift that is beyond you, especially when taking his wound into account.

Nami rushed over and lit the already very short fuse. Buggy and co immediately panic at this, and are apparently so terrified that they forgot how to move because they just let it fire at them. The explosion was deafening from this short distance, and the wave of heat felt like it was burning your lungs. All you could do was try and shield your face with your arms, but it really didn’t help much.

“Come on, we need to get out of here,” Zoro shoved past you and grabbed the cage, putting all his strength into dragging it away. You can’t let him do this by himself when he’s so injured, he really shouldn’t be doing this at all, so you push it from the other side. It’s so heavy, you can’t imagine you’re really helping him all that much, but you don’t give up. 

Zoro is either in shock and can’t feel anything, or is a glutton for punishment because he continues to drag the cage further than you thought necessary. You’re not sure why, it’s not like those other guys are going to come after you. If there was anyone that survived the blast, there’s no way they’d be in any shape to give chase.

He finally called it quits in front of some abandoned pet store, immediately collapsing onto the ground upon letting go of the cage.

“Zoro!” You rushed over and knelt next to him. Instinctively, you reach into your bag for the first aid kit, but then freeze. What are you supposed to do with it? Slap some bandaids on the gaping wound? For all you know some of his organs were pierced, too. At the very least, he would need stitches, and you didn’t know how to do that.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about this. I’ll sleep it off,” Zoro placed his hand over yours, forcing you to put the kit back in your bag.

You looked at him incredulously, “Sleep it off?! You didn’t sprain an ankle or something, you got stabbed! You can’t sleep off a stab wound!” He must be delirious from blood loss, that’s the only explanation for how he’s this nonchalant.

“Quit worrying so much, I’ve slept off worse.”

“You’ve what?”

“Just quiet down so I can sleep,” he yawned and stretched out on the ground as if he were on a bed. His eyes flickered open again and back on you, “Can I have that back now if you’re done using it?”

“Have what?” Your hand reaches up to follow where his gaze is focused, landing on the fabric of the bandana, “Oh!” So you were right, it was his. You’re quick to untie it and return the bandana to its rightful owner.

“What’s with this weird dog? Why isn’t it moving?” Luffy was currently in a staring contest with a tiny white dog sitting in front of the store. The poor thing looked filthy. A stray, probably.

“That’s what you’re focused on right now? Seriously?!” You scolded him while gesturing at Zoro. What’s with this guy? How is he this laid back about everything going on around you? Were you the weird one here?

Luffy just tilted his head at you, further making you question if you were the odd one out, “What? He said he’ll be fine after he gets some sleep.” Zoro wordlessly nodded along with this sentiment from his (bloodied) spot on the ground, giving you an ‘I told you so’ look. 

It’s official. They’re both insane. Was it too late to listen to what Nami said and go your separate way? You hazard a glance back at Luffy, only to see the dog biting his hand and him screaming while trying to shake it off.

You… Would probably be better off on your own.

“So that’s where you three ran off to,” you whip around to see the sanest person you’ve met so far, Nami, watching you all with an amused grin. She strolled closer and dropped a large key onto the ground, “I figured you guys might want this.”

“The key!” You and Luffy shouted in unison. You pray it’s the correct one this time, but at least it won’t be your fault if it isn’t. Luffy goes to grab it, but can’t. Not because he can’t reach it or anything, but because the dog leapt forward and snatched it up first. He didn’t just pick it up, no. The damn thing swallowed it, much to everyone’s shock and horror. 

Luffy was the first to snap out of it. Surprise turned to anger as he grabbed the dog, yelling at him to spit it out, even though it was too late for that. 

Ah. Of course. This might as well happen.

Crestfallen over the realization of how strange the company you’re keeping really is, you look at Nami with what must have been an extremely exasperated expression. All she does is smirk, visibly taking joy in your palpable regret towards your life decisions. 

“Are you having fun helping your friends here?” Her tone was saccharin and her smile was conniving. 

Suddenly, your resolve hardens and spite bubbles to the surface. If she’s going to be like this, then you don’t want to let her in on how you’re really feeling. You won’t give her the satisfaction of being right. “Yes. I’m loving every second of it, thank you very much,” you huffed and looked away from her, hoping she didn’t see right through you. Nami snorted at your effort.

“Hey! You kids leave Chouchou alone!”

Everyone turns their attention to the new voice. It belongs to an old man wearing some crude attempt at armor. Who’s Chouchou? The dog?

“Who are you?”

“I’m Boodle, the mayor of this town,” he stated very matter of factly. You couldn’t help but take a look at your surroundings. He’s mayor of this town? A ghost town? You suppose that would make getting elected easier.

He stomped his way closer, sizing up all of you before his eyes settled on Zoro. His eyes shot wide open, “That’s a terrible wound you’ve got there, we need to get you to a doctor immediately! I take you young’uns had a run in with Buggy and his crew?” The old man knelt down and began to try and lift Zoro onto his feet. 

You pitched in and hooked his other arm over your shoulder. You’re not sure where you’re headed, but you assume it’s to wherever the doctor is. It’s surprising that there’s still a doctor here, but you suppose it’s not that much of a reach if the mayor is still lurking around.

He enters a nearby building, but it looks more like someone’s personal home than a doctor’s office. There also isn’t anyone in here. You follow the mayor’s lead into a bedroom and let Zoro lay down on one of the beds in there. You glance around and strain your ears, but you don’t see or hear anyone. You decide to ask, “So where’s the doctor at?”

“Oh, he’s not here,” Boodle didn’t pay you much mind, leaving the room to grab some supplies. He came back with a first aid kit and a glass of water. 

Zoro in the meantime had shuffled himself under the covers and waved his hand dismissively at Boodle, “I don’t need any of that, just let me get some sleep.” Within seconds of finishing the sentence he was out cold.

“When is the doctor coming back?” You pried.

“Not anytime soon, I imagine. Not while Buggy is still ‘round these parts.”

“Then why did we bring him here???” Talk about pointless, this was like going shopping in a store that’s out of stock.

“It’s better than leaving him on the street, young lady,” he explained. His eyes focused on the haphazardly placed bandages on your forehead, “Oh dear, it looks like you could stand to see a doctor, too.”

“What? The doctor that isn’t here?”

Boodle scowled at your response, muttering under his breath, “Kids these days and their sass.” He huffs and turns to the door, “I’m going to go talk to the others, you’re welcome to stay here and rest if you want.”

The mayor is quick to leave after that, so you focus your attention back on Zoro. He’s sound asleep, looking surprisingly peaceful despite the circumstances. Despite his insistence that all he needs is sleep, you’re not so convinced. You shake Zoro’s shoulder, but he doesn’t even flinch. The blood loss must have him in a very deep sleep right about now. Maybe you could treat him now? There’s probably no harm in that.

You pull the covers back and roll up his shirt to assess the wound. If you remember right, he got stabbed from behind, so you decide to roll him onto his side to look at that part of the injury, too. There’s blood everywhere, and also some dirt and debris around it. You’ll need to get this cleaned up so it doesn’t become infected. 

The bathroom should have what you need for that. You leave the room and try a couple of doors in the hallway before getting the right one. There’s a wash bin on the counter that you fill with warm water, and you snag a couple of rags on your way out of the room.

Zoro is exactly as you left him a moment ago, so you set to work on washing away the blood and dirt. His abdominal muscles twitch involuntarily from the action, but he didn’t wake. It was somewhat difficult to clean the wound due to the fact that it was still bleeding, but you got it good enough to move on to disinfecting it. 

Cracking open the kit, you rifle through it to find what you need. Your hand closes around a bottle and you pull it out to see what it is. Painkillers! You can’t help the relieved grin that spreads across your face. Finally, some relief for your splitting headache! Popping open the bottle, you shake out a couple of pills and use the water on the bedside table to take them. Zoro probably wouldn’t mind. You set a couple more on the table for Zoro to take, too. 

Next, you find a disinfectant and set to work on applying it. The sting of it was enough to rouse Zoro from his slumber. His arm shot out to try and shoo you away and he hissed, “Leave me alone, I’m trying to sleep.”

“I will when I’m done. We need to get this taken care of before it gets any worse. Here, I set out some painkillers for you,” you reached over and grabbed the pills and water cup, holding them out for him.

Zoro made no move to grab them, “I don’t need them, I feel fine.” 

“There’s no way that doesn’t hurt like hell. Quit acting like a tough guy and take the damn things!” You try to push them past his lips, but he wrenches his face away from you like a toddler avoiding taking medicine.

“Knock it off, woman! I’m fine! Just finish what you’re doing and leave me alone!” He grabbed the wrist of the hand that had the pills in it to stop you from trying. 

You scowled at his stubborn antics, but ultimately relented. If he was willing to let you dress the wound without a fight, you’ll take it, “Okay fine, sit up for me.”

This kind of a cut definitely called for stitches at the very least, but you weren’t qualified to do that. The best you could do was bandage it so it stays clean and doesn’t get any worse. You wad up a couple pieces of gauze to put on each side of his stab wound and wind some bandages around his waist to hold them in place.

“Is this too tight?”

Zoro rolled his eyes and grumbled, “It’s not, you worry too damn much.”

“Well excuse me for trying to help you and return the favor,” my god this guy was argumentative. 

“Return what favor?” He looked genuinely confused. It’s not entirely unbelievable that he’d forgotten about helping you before given everything that’s happened in such a short window of time.

“You’re the one that cleaned up this, remember?” You pointed at your head with your free hand. Granted, rinsing it with sea water was hardly an ideal treatment, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Oh, that,” Zoro averted his gaze. “It’s not a big deal, I didn’t do that much. Definitely didn’t harp on you as much as you’re harping on me.” The man apparently couldn’t go two seconds without complaining.

It was your turn to roll your eyes, “Still, I appreciate the effort and wanted to give you the same courtesy, even if you’re being a cranky bastard about it.” His protests of being called ‘a cranky bastard’ was cut off by you tying the bandages in a knot to keep them in place, “There, I’m done. Now you can go back to sleep.”

“Finally,” Zoro falls back onto the pillow dramatically and immediately goes back to snoring. You pull up the covers since he didn’t bother to before passing out again. He must be exhausted to be able to go to sleep so quickly.

There’s another bed in the room and you contemplate laying down in it, but then you hear a terribly loud roar outside. You spare a glance to Zoro, who is unresponsive, then rushed out of the room to see what was going on. That sounded an awful lot like the lion, Richie.

Throwing open the front door, you look around and see Luffy by himself. Nami and Boodle are nowhere in sight, but neither is Richie at least.

Luffy is frantically rocking the cage back and forth in what you think is an attempt to scootch away. When he sees you running towards him, he perks up, “Lucky! Help me out and move the cage!”

There’s no way in hell you can move that cage far enough to get him out of danger, but you think you have an idea, “I can’t do that, but there might be another way.”

He tilts his head curiously, “Another way? What do you- Hey! What are you doing?” He yelps as you reach through the bars to grab his ankle and pull it out.

“You’re made of rubber, so you can squeeze through these bars, right?” If he can stretch, he can squish too. At least, that’s what you’re guessing.

“That’s not how this works! I would’ve gotten out of here by now if I could do that!” Luffy was flailing indignantly, trying to get you to let go.

“Maybe you just needed some help? Work with me here, suck it in!” You grunted from the effort of trying to pull some wriggly rubber boy out of a cage. He wasn’t making this easy on you. His leg was stretching, but he wasn’t any closer to being out of the cage.

“Suck what in? You don’t make any sense!” Luffy was straight up whining at this point.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

You shrieked and in your panic, let go of Luffy’s leg. You were so focused on helping Luffy that you hadn’t realized that Richie was now right here. So was that guy with the weird hair. When you let go of Luffy’s leg, it slingshotted back and over the cage, nailing the guy in the chest and sending him flying off of Richie.

“Oh! Good thinking Lucky! You got him good!” Luffy wasn’t even acknowledging the massive lion.

The other guy was coughing and gasping from the impact. Richie was paying him no mind and instead came over to you and licked your face. This successfully distracted you from the situation at hand. You cooed at the overgrown feline and gave him chin scritches.

The dog, Chouchou, was growling like mad. You hadn’t even noticed the small dog was still here before, having assumed it left with the others. 

The weird haired guy staggered onto his feet, visibly furious, “Richie! Quit cuddling up to that liar!”

Richie grumbled, but did listen. He meandered back in no particular hurry, looking unenthused about the whole ordeal.

The man cleared his throat, “I’ll make you all pay for what you did! I am Beast Tamer Mohji, and there isn’t a creature that I can’t tame! Observe!” To prove his point, he approached Chouchou, whose growling got louder with each step. Mohji crouched down and held out his hand to the dog, smirking confidently. 

As soon as he was close enough, the dog lunged forward and bit down hard on him. Mohji screamed and flailed his arm, trying to dislodge the angry dog. You, Luffy, and Richie watched this, all sharing an unimpressed look at the display.

When he did manage to free himself, Mohji took a minute to catch his breath before turning to face you guys again. “Anyways! We have unfinished business here! I’m not about to let anyone get away with disrespecting Captain Buggy!”

Oh, so he’s just gonna sweep that under the rug, huh?

He sicced Richie on you two. You screeched and leapt behind the cage. Why did he have to start acting like a proper lion now?! Richie put all his weight onto the cage, and it crumbled almost immediately.

Luffy cheered and jumped out of the way, dragging you along with him. He stretched and jumped up and down, thoroughly enjoying his newfound freedom. “Finally, now I can actually do something!” He charged at Richie and Mohji, winding up his arm to deliver a blow, but Richie reacts faster. He swipes at Luffy, and the hit quite literally sends him flying. Not just flying a few feet, no, it sent him hurtling through several buildings.

Your mouth was agape. Sure, he’s made of rubber, but how can anyone be okay after something like that?! Praying that Richie likes you enough to not give chase, you sprint towards the rubble, hoping that he’ll be okay.

Much to your relief, you aren’t pursued. Much to your horror, however, you find several buildings toppled from Luffy being thrown into them. When you finally reach the last destroyed house, you catch sight of Nami and Boodle gawking at it.

“What are you doing? Help me dig him out!” Not waiting for them to pitch in, you start pulling off fallen beams and tossing shingles behind you. You can see one of his feet poking out of the rubble.

“Lucky, I don’t think you need to, there isn’t a chance that he survived that,” Nami put her hand on your shoulder and gently tried to pull you away, but you just shrugged her off and continued to dig. You had to at least try!

Suddenly, the fallen building shifted on its own. Then Luffy sprung out of it, looking perfectly fine, if a bit dirty.

“What?! How can you still be standing after that?!” Boodle stepped back in shock from the sight and you could hear Nami gasping behind you. 

“I’m a rubber person! It’s gonna take a lot more than that to stop me,” Luffy declared proudly. He hopped down onto the ground and sprinted back towards where Richie and Mohji were. He sure is fast for someone who just went through what he did. All three of you followed after him, wanting to see where this was going. 

It wasn’t until just now that it dawned on you how strange it was that Mohji and Richie were even here. Didn’t they get hit by that cannon? If they’re okay, then does that mean the others are, too? Damn, how weak was that cannon? Maybe letting it hit Luffy wouldn’t have been that dangerous afterall. 

Up ahead, you catch sight of a rematch between Richie and Luffy. This time, Luffy was more prepared and dodged his attacks with ease. He then twisted his arms around several times over and grabbed the lion. As if Richie weighed nothing, Luffy flung him overhead and drove him into the ground. You couldn’t help but wince at the sight, pitying the lion even if he had previously attacked Luffy.

Mohji was also appalled at the treatment of his lion, but didn’t have time to do much since Luffy knocked him out in one hit.

Nami was horrified at the display. It seems she was as disturbed by Luffy’s powers as you were. “Pirates are insane, why would anyone ever want to associate with these freaks?” She mumbled more to herself than anyone. 

If Luffy heard her, he didn’t react to it. All he did was pick up a box of dog food that was laying on the ground and make his way back to where you guys were initially. 

Curious about what he was doing, you tagged along and could hear the other two not far behind. As you rounded the corner, you finally took notice of the active fire that was going on. That pet store you guys were by before had been set aflame since you’d last seen it. Did Mohji do this? Why? 

Chouchou was howling pitifully in front of it. He looked like he’d been roughed up, with claw marks all over him. You suddenly felt a lot less bad for Richie.

Luffy slowly approached the dog and set the dog food next to him, “That store was your treasure, right? It’s not much, but I was able to save this for you.” He reached out and patted the dog on the head, which Chouchou surprisingly tolerated this time around.

You aren’t completely sure what Luffy is talking about here, you feel like you’re missing an important piece of information. Still, you can’t help but be moved. Did he go out of his way to help the dog even after his previous issues with him? That’s oddly sweet.

Maybe these guys aren’t so bad afterall. Unhinged, yes, but at the very least they’re decent people. Perhaps you will stick around a while longer. 

It would appear that you weren’t the only one moved by the display. Boodle clutched the spear he was carrying tighter, looking like he was on the verge of tears, “I can’t believe I’ve let this get so out of hand. I’ve been a part of this town since it was founded forty years ago. I helped build it. Me and the townsfolk poured so much into this town only for some lowlife pirate to come by and try and take it all for himself.” He cleared his throat and looked off into the distance with a burning resolve, “I’m done letting this continue, this is ending here and now! I’m going to bring an end to his reign even if it kills me!”

Mayor Boodle raised his spear in the air and charged towards where Buggy and his crew were stationed. Nami called out after him, warning that this was a bad idea, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.

“Should we stop him?” You can’t imagine this is going to end well for him. This feels like watching someone’s grandpa go to war.

Neither of them were given a chance to answer. The deafening boom of a cannon going off cut through the air as several buildings toppled in its wake. Horrifyingly, one of them was the house Zoro was in. 

All of you were in a stunned silence. How many times were you going to see people get crushed in collapsing buildings today? What was this? A superhero movie?

… What’s a superhero movie? 

The remains of the building shuddered, then lifted, and you saw a green head of hair pop out. “Can’t get any damn sleep around here,” Zoro looked annoyed more than anything, as if you’d simply woken him up again and not like he’d just survived numerous events that should have been fatal

Luffy cackled, “Let’s go Zoro, we’re gonna kick that big nosed clown’s ass!”

“I don’t think Zoro’s in any shape to be ‘kicking ass’ right now.” Did Luffy forget about Zoro being stabbed?

Zoro, who was still working on climbing out of the rubble, groaned at this, “Didn’t I tell you that you worry too much? Quit fussing. I got some sleep, I’m fine.”

Does he think sleep is a cure-all? He must be able to tell that you’re going to argue with him, because as soon as he steps down, he takes off with Luffy in the same direction Boodle went. You called out after them, but they distinctly ignored you. 

“They’re a bunch of lunatics,” you muttered, staring at their rapidly retreating forms. 

Nami laughed, “Yeah, well they’re your lunatics, right?” 

“I guess so,” you admit. Even if they are insane, you can feel yourself becoming fond of them.

Both of you follow behind them at a light jog. They’re out of sight, but you’re sure you’ll be able to hear them soon enough. You’re not sure what you’re going to do when you get there, but you’ll just have to figure it out as you go along. 

#one piece #yandere one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #platonic yandere #monkey d luffy #luffy #zoro roronoa #nami #cat burglar nami #mohji the beast tamer #buggy the clown #lucky break #yandere

[drawing-prompt-s]

GoFundMe - Apartment Transfer

Really did not think that I would be making one of these again. But yours truly, Prompt Prophet, cannot catch a break. Every time that I think I am it seems to them just be ripped right back away.

Note: any further proof you require, please contact me at my main, @prophet-rebellion, and I will do what I can to show you.

$400/$400

Links:

GoFundMe

PayPal

Venmo

Please note that this following update means that anybody who wanted to send additional funds for my current roommates cat - Do Not. I want nothing to do with her. Her cat did nothing but after all this I am done. Not funds had been sent for that cat yet but they had been inquired about being a possibility.

----------------

TL;DR - my apartment that told me they were moving my nightmare of a roommate with something called a forced transfer, then apparently reversed their decision (despite documentation) and did not tell me. The only way for me to get out now is to pay a $300 Transfer Fee + Applicable costs to get out as soon as I can. Giving up the apartment I have lived at for almost 2 years now.

The full explanation I gave is under the cut.

Please note I do not want to be doing this, and as soon as I hit $400 the GoFundMe is getting closed. People are struggling enough right now and I hate asking for monetary help when I know this much.

But god, for the sake of myself and my cat I cannot do this. I can't live here with her anymore, but I can't break my lease either.

FULL EXPLANATION (copied from GoFundMe):

Many of you know me for raising funds regarding my cats, either in the search for one of them as being missing, or more recently to raise funds for the other for ear mite treatment.

We reached the full goal of ear mite treatment within 24 hours of the fundraiser being set up - and it feels wrong in a sense to add the funds to that GoFundMe. The Ear Mite treatment is still happening and I fully intend to post an update photo of her at the vet there when I can.

However, to this end, so much as I do not want to be asking for help.

Living with my current roommate is hell. Cut and dry. She is vindictive, rude, loud, and confrontational. Her own cat has a tendency to attack my own and has on many occasions. This roommate was moved into the apartment in June, I have been here for more than a year and a half.

I will save you most of the story because there is an incredible amount, honestly, and I have cried more than my fair share today. My body is threatening more tears as I work through writing this now.

Incredibly important note: one of my old roommates is moving back in, she is a good friend of mine. However, given all that my current one has done, the original roommate refuses to move back if the current one is still present. I cannot blame her as the actions of my current roommate have driven me to locking myself in my room 24/7, along with my ESA. I wish that this was an exaggeration. It is not.

The brunt of the situation comes down to this:

We had mediation, my current roommate and I, and it was about as useless as you would believe it to be.

Nothing changed, in fact any things reverted back to the way they had been or seemingly got worse.

I went to speak with the property manager one-on-one to bring the full story to light along with evidence to backup what I was saying. I completely broke down at this point in time. I cannot break my lease, I cannot escape my current roommate - I am caged.

What was decided in that meeting was that they would be performing a forcible transfer of my roommate - she would be moving to another apartment, same layout, same size room, etc. But out. We would then phase my soon-to-be roommate back in (she had not originally renewed her lease because she was going to be gone for some time). This meeting was on Friday. I was told by the property manager that the following Monday she was going to have a meeting with my current roommate and inform her of this. The whole process would supposedly take about 2 weeks. (It should also be included that my current roommate has had multiple violations of her lease which I had documented). This decision was then further documented by an email they sent to my soon-to-be roommate stating that upon her arrival into the apartment, my current roommate would be gone. So this is an actual documented decision.

The two weeks was almost up and nothing had been heard, my roommate had not packed, etc. So yesterday (October 17th) I sent an email to which I got no reply. Today (October 18th) I went and spoke to the leasing manager (different from the Property Manager, whom is ranked just above her). the LM had no idea what I was talking about. She then spoke with the PM, who I had met with and called me back.

Apparently, the Property Manager, in her meeting the following Monday decided that actually we would continue to live together. My current roommate would no longer be moved out. This sudden change was not communicated to myself or my soon-to-be roommate who was refiling her lease under the impression the issue would be gone.

No curtsey to respond to my email, no honoring a DOCUMENTED decision. Etc. Just radio silence to me.

The only two options available are this - since they are now also giving my soon-to-be (hopefully) roommate a hard time about her income.

1. Myself and my soon-to-be roommate are moved from our original apartment to a different and fully vacant apartment.

(This is the decision we are going with on the grounds that my STB roommate be accepted).

2. My STB roommate does not move in at all and cancels her lease process, leaving me along in the apartment with my devil of a roommate and her cat that keeps attacking my own.

This second option is not sustainable. I am breaking, entirly. I am so tired, and so done with this all.

I do not want to give up where I have lived for almost two years becuase the actions of a vindictive new arrival. But I cannot stay here. If I could break my lease then I would. Because the Property Manager is the highest authority present at the office there is nobody I can go to above her that will hold her to her documented word and honor it. (I did but in a request to the corporation that owns my complex to speak with them about her conduct, but I doubt anything will come of it outside of retaliation).

The reality of option 1 however, is that it is no longer considered a forced transfer. Meaning that i have to pay the transfer fee listed in my lease of $300 plus applicable fees ("convenience" fee and card transfer %). I cannot move apartments until this fee is paid.

Therefore I am setting the amount at $400 to account for the percentage that GFM takes, and the amount that the apartments themselves will be taking on.

I have no set goal for how fast this will be filled, but by God, the sooner the better. I am not renewing my lease and remaining her after it ends in June.

#prompt prophet #gofundme

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Leona Kingscholar - Apprentice Chef Vignette

"Master Chef"

[Kitchen]

Master Chef ― Leona Version ～ Let’s Make Pannacotta 1～

Ghost Chef: Today, we'll have you make a pannacotta. It's a dessert that's made by hardening milk using gelatin.

Ghost Chef: Dessert required more delicate handling than any other aspect of cooking.

Ghost Chef: There are many ways to make mistakes when making it, including baking it too long, measuring out the ingredients wrong, or even mixing up the order of the ingredients added, so don't let your guard down.

Leona: Yaaaawn…

Ghost Chef: EXCUSE ME, LEONA-KUN!

Leona: Huh?

Ghost Chef: Don't yawn at me like that. Were you listening to my explanation?

Leona: Of course I was. I got pretty good hearing. Basically, all I have to do is follow the recipe and everything'll work out fine, right?

Ghost Chef: I-I mean… That may be… Ahem! Then, I shall go through the recipe.

Ghost Chef: Then first, can you go fetch the ingredients for the pannacotta? You'll need milk, fresh cream, sugar―

Leona: Wait. I'm already taking up your precious time having you teach me how to cook this, having you explain every step is much too gracious.

Leona: If you just hand me the recipe in the beginning here, I'm sure I won't have to bother you too heavily, Chef.

Ghost Chef: Eh, the recipe? Normally we don't give it out right away…

Ghost Chef: But if you're thinking of me that much, I suppose I can give you a spare recipe sheet. Thank you for your kind concern!

Leona: Yeah, sure, thank you, too. Okay, then…

Epel: Um, sorry to interrupt. I would like to grab some of my ingredients out of that fridge.

Leona: Ah, good timing, Epel. Grab my ingredients out of there, too.

Epel: Yes, sir.

Leona: I'll read off the ingredients. I need milk, fresh cream, sugar, powdered gelatin, vanilla beans, and fruit for the garnish.

Epel: First, I'll grab the milk and fresh cream… Are you okay with using apples for your fruit?

Leona: You gotta peel and slice apples, so it's a pain. I'd rather just have something that you can just eat right away…

Ghost Chef: STOP, STOP, WHY ARE YOU ORDERING AROUND EPEL SO CASUALLY!? THIS IS YOUR ASSIGNMENT!

Leona: There's less chance of a mistake if I leave it to the more experienced Epel, right? 'Sides, nowhere does it say that I have to prep my own ingredients.

Ghost Chef: You always have an excuse… This is your assignment, Leona-kun, so you need to work on it yourself and not have others do it!

Ghost Chef: We've had many a student who've tried to cut corners in this course, but this is the first time someone has tried to shove his work onto someone else.

Epel: Ahahah, Leona-san's always like this. I'll leave your milk and fresh cream here.

Ghost Chef: Alright, let's go, we'll start cooking now! AND OF COURSE THAT MEANS YOU, LEONA-KUN! YOU!

Leona: ―This says to throw the pods in with the milk after shelling out the vanilla beans…

Ghost Chef: That's right. Vanilla beans are wonderful on their own, but if you add their pods, the aroma grows richer.

Leona: Huh, then, I'll just leave these pods out, then. You can use them for another dish.

Ghost Chef: I know you just don't want to have to fish them out of the bowl later. I'm picking up on your mannerisms fairly quickly…

Ghost Chef: Turn the heat off right before the milk starts to boil. Keep an eye on the pot and time it well.

Leona: So, I just have to watch the pot. Easy day.

Ghost Chef: Don't get complacent and mess this part up.

Leona: Mess it up, huh. Must be super sensitive if the temperature of the milk can throw off the whole thing.

Ghost Chef: Just so. When it boils, fat and oil rise to the surface, and it releases a very distinctive smell.

Leona: Hmph. It's like I'm taking a potionology class.

Ghost Chef: By the way… You said that you were just taking this class for the credit, but do you have any interest in cooking at all?

Leona: Sorry, but no. I wouldn't have even taken this class if I hadn't heard that one of my precious juniors would be taking it.

Ghost Chef: What a simple response… Well, I know I would be nothing less than happy if you were to gain a little interest in cooking from this venture.

Leona: I'll do my best so as to not upset your expectations.

Ghost Chef: You say that, but your face is screaming that it'll never happen…

Leona: Well, I never wanted to ever cook anything, so.

Leona: The fact that I've never had an issue up to this point in my life means that cooking isn't a skill I really need at all.

Ghost Chef: Hmmm, so you're definitely the type of student that the Headmage was worried for.

Leona: Crowley, worried? …Riiight, that thing he said about living healthy and independently. It's all much ado about nothing.

Leona: Everyone has things they're good at, and bad at. For each person and each job to be efficiently managed, have someone who wants to do it, or can get it done.

Leona: It would be absolutely terrible if everyone got so good at cooking that you were out of a job.

Ghost Chef: Yes, yes… Regardless, I'll need you to do your given tasks properly during this course. To begin with…

Leona: Chef, thousand apologies for interrupting you, but looks like the milk has been warmed up to the right temp.

Leona: It'd be bad for me to mess up here. Can we get to finishing this now?

[Kitchen]

Master Chef ― Leona Version ～ Let’s Make Pannacotta 2～

Ghost Chef: Next, we want to dissolve the gelatin we left soaking in the water.

Leona: Feels like it'd dissolve if we just threw it in the pot like this… What's the point of heating it up separately?

Ghost Chef: The temperature at which the gelatin dissolve is also important to keep an eye on. For this, we'll use a method that's easier for beginners.

Leona: An easier method, hm…

Ghost Chef: Good, good, you're following the recipe well. I'll go and fetch the fruit you'll use to garnish the plate, then.

Leona: …

Ghost Chef: How is it, has the gelatin completely dissolved into liquid?

Leona: Yeah, see?

Ghost Chef: Alright then, add the melted gelatin into the pot. Once it's all mixed, you'll pour it into the mold and wait for it to solidify.

Leona: Finally, it's almost over. Can't believe it takes this much effort to just make one measly dessert…

Ghost Chef: Okay, while we wait for the pannacotta to solidify, let's make a sauce out of the blueberries.

Leona: A sauce? If we add in too many random things, you won't be able to taste the pannacotta.

Leona: Even the recipe only said, "add enough fruit for garnish."

Leona: I'm just gonna choose some toppings that'll bring out the flavor. So, I'll be skipping out on the sauce.

Ghost Chef: I see, I see… Wait, no! I almost went along with it, but you definitely cannot skip the sauce!

[Cafeteria – Judging Venue]

Floyd: Where's the pannacotta I ordered? Isn't this takin' too long?

Floyd: How long does it even take to fix up one dessert? This wouldn't happen at the Mostro Lounge.

Leona: I thought I heard something annoying out here… So, Floyd's my judge.

Floyd: Ohhh? If it isn't Sea Lion-senpai. That outfit… No way, you're actually taking the Master Chef course?

Leona: You have eyes, don't you? Don't ask stupid questions.

Floyd: Huuuh, so I'm about to eat something you made? Is it safe? Didja even make anything edible?

Leona: You're the one that's gotta decide whether it's edible or not. Here, the pannacotta you ordered.

Floyd: Hm? Isn't it a little deformed on the bottom there? …Meh, whatever. I'ma dig in.

[bite, chew, chew…]

Floyd: HUH? WHAT'S THIS SUPPOSED TO BE?

Floyd: THE TEXTURE'S TERRIBLE. THIS IS HILARIOUS! TOTALLY FELT WEIRD AS SOON AS THE SPOON SLID INTO IT, TOO.

Floyd: All's you gotta do to make a pannacotta is mix all the ingredients in and harden it. How can anyone screw it up this badly?

Leona: …

Ghost Chef: Ummm… Well, actually…

―While cooking

Leona: I was wondering what kinda frustrating fiddlin' I'd have to do here, since there's something about wattage and the number of seconds, or whatever, but…

Leona: There's this handy button labeled "Auto" here.

Leona: That probably means that if I press this, then it'll determine the perfect power and heat time.

[clack! beep! vrrraaaah...]

Leona: …'Kay, good enough.

Ghost Chef: ―So, when he used the automatic function, it looks like he overcooked the gelatin…

Floyd: SEA LION-SENPAI, YOU TELLIN' ME YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO USE A MICROWAVE OVEN!?

Floyd: You only use auto when you wanna heat up a dish, not get the gelatin dissolved into a perfect consistency.

Floyd: THAT JUST MAKES THIS SCREW UP EVEN BETTER～～!

Leona: Tch… Stop laughing like an idiot. You think it's that funny? Huh?

Floyd: Yuuup, it's way too funny. I thought all you people on land could use a microwave.

Leona: …Ruggie said something like that before, too. Something about "even kids know how to use them," and "it's just common sense."

Leona: Back home and here on campus, we have chefs that present hot meals every day.

Leona: That's the life I've always had. So, you can imagine that I've never had the chance to use a microwave, don't you think?

Floyd: Haha, what, are ya making excuses now? You should just admit when you can't do something like a good boy.

Ghost Chef: Well, Leona-kun was very skillful and quick on his feet.

Ghost Chef: I'm sure he'll take this failure in stride and be able to use the microwave properly next time. Right, Leona-kun?

Leona: Right… Just as you say, chef.

Leona: This is a prime opportunity for me, so I would absolutely appreciate a deeper focus on learning how to use a microwave for the rest of this course.

Requested by @dida-books.

#twisted wonderland #twst #leona kingscholar #floyd leech #epel felmier #twst leona #twst floyd #twst epel #twst translation #twst masterchef #mention: ruggie

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

photographs (part 2)

part one (definitely not “required” to read first part before this one, but it makes more sense to read part one, then this part)

masterlist

summary: when dean disappears after killing dick, you’re glad you took so many photos.

paring: dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 3.0k

warnings: dean is (temporarily) dead, memories/photos with - implied sex/nudity, lots of fluff cloaked in angst cause dean’s dead

author’s note: inspired by a comment i received on part one (quick explanation here).

dean was dead. again. your heart ached. well, everything ached. your head ached cause you hadn’t slept in days, your stomach ached cause you hadn’t fed it anything but caffeinated drinks and whiskey for days, and, above all, your shattered heart made your chest physically ache. everything in you was telling you to sit down, eat a meal, and get some sleep; but you couldn’t, you wouldn’t. all that mattered to you now was getting dean back.

the days after losing him you stole a car (sam took the impala, which you were fine with) and drove for hours, stopping at different storage lockers to gather up the usb sticks with all the photos and videos you had taken on the cameras since dean went to hell. the physical photo albums had burned up at bobby’s place so you thanked your lucky stars you had been paranoid enough to make copies and leave them in separate places.

there were a lot of videos, and even more photos. god, were you glad you had shoved the stuipid camera in dean’s face and that he had willingly taken it from you to snap pictures of his own.

you sat in the dingy motel room; your laptop on the table in front of you and a bottle of whiskey beside you. you didn’t even really ever like whiskey, not until you fell in love with dean. he often tasted like whiskey when you’d kiss him so now the bitter (and, in this instance, cheap) drink reminded you of him.

tears filled your eyes as you clicked through the photos. you let out quiet sobs between sips of whiskey until you got to the first video on the usb you were going through.

“y/n, get your gorgeous ass out here,” dean exclaimed from behind the camera.

“give me another minute!” you called back. dean sighed dramatically and turned the camera around.

“y/n and i are on a case and we’re pretty sure the vamps are gonna be at this fancy party in town,” he explained. he leaned closer to the camera and whispered, “i honestly have no idea if they’re gonna be there but y/n suggested it and she looks smoking hot in-”

“okay i’m ready,” you stepped out of the bathroom. dean’s face lit up then he turned the camera around.

“wow, wow, wow,” he walked up to you. “you look incredible, sweetheart” he took your face in his hand and kissed you, angling the camera so it captured the moment.

“you don’t look too bad yourself,” you smiled up at him and ran your fingers over his tie. you gripped it and pulled him down for another kiss.

“mmh,” he hummed through his smile as he kissed you back. “you know this dress would definitely look better on the floor,” he whispered.

“oh and it definitely will be on the floor the second we get back here,” you replied. “c’mon,” you stepped away from him and grabbed your purse, “let’s go kill some vampires!”

you smiled to yourself. as much as you missed him, you couldn’t help the happy feeling bubbling up as you remembered what it was like to be held by him.

“put the damn camera down and kiss me already!” dean huffed dramatically.

“you’re so cute right now, though!” you giggled, snapping another picture.

“i look the same as i did yesterday, honey!”

“exactly!” you put the camera down and he kissed you. “you always look so perfect,” you whispered.

“have you seen you?!” he teased.

you reached your hands up so you could mess with his hair. your expression changed.

“oh god,” you practically gagged.

“what’s wrong?”

“there’s definitely ghoul brains in your hair still,” you retracted your hands. “get in the shower,” you laughed, pushing him toward the motel bathroom.

“only if you come with me,” he smirked.

your phone rang and you furrowed your brows as you answered; “garth?”

“hey, are you still in wichita? i’ve got a hunter friend over there who needs some help and i’m at least two days away.”

“yeah, i am garth, but-”

“please, y/n? i don’t know that many hunters and i’m kinda worried about her,” he asked, you could hear the desperation in his voice which was very out of character for him.

“of course, garth. send me the details and i’ll get in contact with her,” you smiled. dean would want me to help, you thought to yourself.

“thanks.”

**

you tiptoed over to where dean was half asleep.

“dean honey, wake up,” you whispered while stroking his messy hair. “breakfast is ready.”

“you’re too good to me sweetheart, he smiled and sat up; giving your cheek a kiss.

“happy birthday, dean,” you handed him the plate of freshly cooked bacon and a slice of pie. he sat up and began eating it, you sat down on the edge of the bed.

“this is perfect honey, thank you,” he smiled like a kid on christmas. “c’mere,” he pulled you into a quick kiss, you could taste the bacon grease still on his lips and you’ve gotta admit, you’re a damn good cook.

“i got you a present, too,” you giggled a little and stood up to get it off the counter. “well, two actually - one’s kind of a gag gift and one’s a real gift.”

he set the plate down on the bedside table and took the gift-wrapped boxes from you. he opened the smaller one first.

“hell yeah,” he laughed, holding up the gift. “condoms! we are definitely using these right away!”

“yeah, thought you’d appreciate those,” you teased.

he opened the next one; “a mini pie maker?”

“yeah, i figured it’d be handy to have-” he cut you off by kissing you and holding your face in his hands.

“god, i fucking love you,” he said between kisses. “you are the sweetest,” he kissed you again, “most beautiful,” and again, “most perfect woman in the universe.” you laughed, trying to catch your breath.

“i love you too,” you said.

“wanna use those condoms now?” he wiggled his brows suggestively.

“eat your breakfast first, before the bacon gets cold. i asked sam to text me when he’s ten minutes away so we’ve got plenty of time.” you gave him a kiss on the forehead and stood up. you took the pie maker and put it on the counter as dean finished his breakfast. “smile, birthday boy!” you snapped a couple pictures.

“hey you alright?” janet (garth’s hunter friend) asked from the passenger seat of your car.

“yeah, just.. it’s nothing,” you shook your head with a smile and flipped the visor back up so you couldn’t see the pictures of dean. “i lost someone a week ago. it’s still pretty raw.”

“i’m sorry,” she smiled sadly. “what was his name?” she asked; she had seen you looking at the pictures.

“uh, dean,” you replied. “dean winchester.”

“the dean win- sorry-” she caught herself. “uh, what was he like?”

“the best,” you whispered. “he was the sweetest man. he was so good to me and i- i just love him so much and- and i miss him like crazy.” you wiped your tears away quickly. “sorry, here i am spilling my guts when i just met you.”

“hey it’s thanks to you i didn’t literally spill my guts back there, if you wanna talk i’m here for you.”

**

“garth! got another case for me?” you asked through the phone. it had been six months since you lost dean and you never stopped hunting. you truly believed if you stopped you’d go crazy alone with your thoughts.

“yep, four bodies missing their hearts a few miles from where you are,” he replied. “you doing okay?”

“yep i’m great,” you lied.

“i know your lying, but you know i’m here if you need to talk, right?”

“yeah, i know garth, thank you,” you replied. “send me the details for the case please.” you hung up.

“c’mon take the picture already, i’m starving!” dean grumbled. you had made dinner for the brothers and bobby and it looked delicious.

“cheese!” you said and snapped a few pictures of the three of them at the table. “okay, let’s eat!” you sat down next to dean; across from sam, who sat to the left of bobby.

“why do people say ‘cheese’ when they take a picture?” dean wondered out loud.

“maybe cause people like cheese?” you shrugged and put some steak next to the baked potato on your plate.

“well then what about lactose intolerant people?” sam chipped in.

“good point; maybe it’s a guys name? like the first person to take a picture? maybe their last name was cheese,” you suggested.

“oh, that actually makes sense,” dean nodded.

“are you idjits really having this conversation?” bobby exclaimed. “saying ‘cheese’ has nothing to do with actual cheese, or some photographer; it’s just that saying the word ‘cheese’ forces you to smile!” he shook his head as you and the brothers nodded.

“then why not say ‘freeze’?” you continued, at this point just teasing bobby.

“or ‘please’?” dean added.

“or-” sam started but bobby cut him off.

“just shut up and eat,” he rolled his eyes and couldn’t help but laugh a little.

you turned off your phone, not wanting to stare at the lockscreen any longer.

**

nine months. nine whole months. dean was still dead. hunting wasn’t the same anymore, it didn’t distract you at all. you’d be mid-kill and all the monster had to do was mutter dean’s name for you to freeze up. lucky for you, garth always made sure there was another hunter on any case he told you about; so, they would end up killing the monster before it killed you.

you sat alone at the bar, the other hunter you had just finished a case with was already on his way to another case across the state. but you had decided you needed to take a break from hunting and find another distraction.

that’s when you saw him; a man three stools down from you, wearing a red flannel almost identical to dean’s. his hair was the same color as dean’s, and when he turned to smile at you, you were met with piercing green eyes. your heart leapt to your throat. he didn’t really look at all like dean, but he had many similar feature - wispy lashes, freckles, and bow legs which you noticed as he walked up to you.

“evening pretty lady,” he smiled and leaned on the counter next to you. “that sounded much better in my head,” he laughed, which caused you to do the same.

“sounded okay,” you replied. “i’m y/n.”

“don,” he replied, you practically spat out your drink. “noticed you checking me out earlier.”

“maybe i was,” you bit your bottom lip a little. “why, you interested?”

“oh yeah,” he nodded, not letting his cocky smile leave his lips.

you brought him closer by gripping the collar of his flannel. you kissed him and he wrapped his arms around your waist, the taste of whiskey hitting your tongue. but something felt off, you felt guilty. you figured you had good reason to be; you only felt somewhat attracted to the guy and what little attraction there was, was only because he reminded you of dean. your perfect dean. the only man you ever loved. the only man you ever really had eyes for. the man that was stuck in purgatory right now (crowley had told you after you summoned him) while you were making out with a stranger.

“actually,” you pulled away. “sorry, i don’t wanna do this,” you smiled awkwardly and pushed the man away.

“oh c’mon, baby, it’s no big deal,” he shook his head and went in for another kiss. you pushed him away again, harder this time so he was now a few feet away from where you sat.

“sorry,” you stood up. “goodnight,” you smiled again and began to walk away.

“don’t be a tease,” he laughed and pulled your arm. you turned around and smirked a little.

“let go,” you said, he didn’t. “look, you really don’t want to get me mad, i’m having a bad week already.”

“what’re you gonna do, hit me?”

“of course not,” you smiled sweetly and stared him down. you then gripped his arm, pulled it off you, turned around and kneed him right in the balls. you gripped his collar again and made him look up at you while he crouched down. you punched the side of his face then walked away. after about four steps you remembered something and walked back. you finished your whiskey then left a fifty on the counter, making eye contact with the bartender so she knew you were leaving.

**

“i’m going off grid garth, i need to look for dean,” you told him through the phone as you drove to rufus’ cabin nearby. “if you need to contact me i’m only keeping this phone charged.”

“okay,” he sighed. “just let me know if you need any help ever, okay? don’t hesitate to call.”

“thank you garth,” you replied. “you’ve been great these past months. i’ll let you know when i get him back.” you then both hung up.

**

dean wrapped his arms around you and made eye contact with you through the mirror in front of you.

“you’re so pretty,” he smiled tiredly and kissed your collarbone. “so fuckin’ pretty.”

you stood in the bathroom in a bra and panties as you tried to keep brushing your teeth.

“can we go to bed already?” he whined. you bent over and spit out the toothpaste, dean groaning when your butt brushed against him. “oh come on sweetheart.”

“yeah let’s head to bed,” you leaned against his back as his grip around you tightened.

“i love you so much, you know that?” he mumbled against your neck.

“i know,” you smiled. “i love you so much, too. do you know that?”

“yeah,” he kissed you again.

“c’mon let’s head to bed,” you turned to go but he stopped you.

“wait,” he picked up the polaroid from the bathroom counter and handed it to you. you both smiled at the mirror and you took the picture; his arms wrapped around your belly and his chin on your shoulder. “okay, let’s go.” he smiled and you put the camera down.

you weren’t sure how the polaroid ended up at the cabin, but you assumed it had been in dean’s wallet when he broke his leg and the four of you had to stay here for a while.

**

one year. it was actually the one year anniversary of the day you watched an exploding dick make dean and cas vanish. you still remember how you had stepped forward to help them and sam had pulled you back, muttering something about it not being safe. you hadn’t seen sam since but you understood why; seeing him only reminded you of dean, so you assumed him seeing you reminded him about his brother.

“i don’t understand the point of this,” cas furrowed his brows and stared at the camera.

“memories, cas; don’t you wanna have pictures to look back on years from now?” you smiled back.

“i have a perfect memory, i don’t need pictures,” he replied.

“of course you do,” you rolled your eyes playfully with a laugh. “point is; you look at the camera and smile.”

“of course,” he nodded, still not fully understanding the point.

you finished setting up the camera on the bookshelf which you were using as a makeshift tripod and set the timer. you posed with castiel; your left arm around his torso and his right draped over your shoulder. the flash went off, indicating the picture had been taken.

“all done! when sam and dean get back with the food, we can take a couple more.”

**

“hey garth, everything okay?” you answered the phone.

“yeah, i just got a weird call from sam asking where you were - i didn’t give him your exact location just said you were at a cabin of rufus’ and gave him your number, that okay?”

“yeah, that’s fine garth thank you.”

**

“what the fuck, sammy!” you shouted when you heard him come bursting through the door. you got off the couch and hurried to the other room. “you could’ve fucking knocked!” you stopped in your tracks. there he was; dean winchester. “dean?”

“y/n?”

“are you a leviathan?”

“no, are you?”

“no, but neither of us can be sure, right?”

“right.”

“borax is under the sink.”

“holy water?”

“there’s a devil’s trap above you.”

you both paused for a second before he stepped out of said trap then you ran towards him and embraced him.

“god i missed you,” you exclaimed.

“i missed you too,” he replied, hugging you tightly. “as much as i don’t want to stop holding you, we really should run through the usual tests, sweetheart.”

“right, right,” you stepped back. “uh devil’s trap,” you said as you walked under it then back out. “borax,” you continued and walked over to the sink then poured some on your hand, closed the bottle, and tossed it to dean before he poured some on himself. “this is pure silver,” you handed him your knife then he handed you his. you both drew blood with the silver knife then dropped them and went back to hugging.

“don’t you ever do that again,” you mumbled into his chest. “you die again i’m gonna fucking murder you, you hear me?”

“yeah i hear you,” he laughed quietly against the crown of your head. “you didn’t spend this whole year alone, did you?”

“no; i spent nine months buried in cases, working on your case the whole time then..” you trailed off a little and looked up at him. “i kissed a guy that looked like you, hated it, and isolated myself in here so i could spend more time trying to get you out of purgatory.”

“you kissed a guy that looked like me?” he smirked a little.

“i also kicked him in the balls and punched his face,” you replied, smiling widely.

“that’s my girl,” he bent down and kissed you.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #bobby singer #garth fitzgerald iv #dick roman #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fluff #dean winchester comfort #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean x reader #by jean #by mind empty just fictional people

[asmosmainhoe]

The brothers playing Mario Party

Notes: I am back home and got some fresh and nice headcanons!❤

Gender: neutral

Warnings: heavy language

Lucifer

It takes a looooot of convincing and bribing to get him to play that with you

He has no favorite character. Just press of shuffle and get it over with

After a couple of mini games he becomes slightly competitive. The ones that require a good memory or anything with math or numbers are totally his thing

Whenever he wins those games and you glance over in a stealthy way you can see him shake his fist in victory. Don't let him catch you though otherwise he will be moody and broody throughout the entire game to proof that he in fact does not enjoy it (he does)

At one point he is extremely close to the last star like it's right infront of him, but a computer snatches away, because they threw a higher number. And that's its for him. There is no way he will pick up the game ever again

"This game is an insult and I shall not tolerate such disrespect. Why should I waste my precious time with something that is purely based on luck and no skill at all?"

Then watch him win due to the bonus stars and all of a sudden it was all skill, baby

Mammon

No one stands a chance against him when it comes to the coin mini games and he's also either on first or second place with the others just to get more money

The only problem is that he spends it all on items by the time he reaches a star

"What do ya mean I can't buy it?! Give me the star dammit!"

And then when he actually can buy a star he either switches positions with another character or gets teleported onto the complete other side of the map

I feel like he would choose Waluigi as a character and you give him a weird look for that

"What? He has long arms! I gotta swoop away the money somehow!"

Everytime he wins a mini-game or it's his turn he imitates Waluigi

Leviathan

He's a Mario Party god

You and the brothers have to unite to genuinely have a chance of winning the game and Levi doesn't know how to feel about it. On one hand he's offended that everyone is ganging up on him, but on the other it rubs his ego the right way

But he's the worst when it comes to explaining the controls to the others. Levi is the type to just throw you into it and give you half-explanations during the most heated moments

"How do I jump?"

"With the button!"

"What button?!"

"Don't worry, you died anyways."

"YOU FUCKING ASS WIPE, NEXT TIME ANSWER MY GODDAMN QUESTION-"

If anyone steals Yoshi away from him he will cry

And if you choose Mario he will make fun of you

Satan

It brings out the worst in him. Just leave him alone and nothing will happen to you

Mammon once made the mistake to steal a star from him and Levi had to buy a new controller the same day

The way he gangs up on Lucifer. Even when the first-born isn't on the first or second place he will always choose him to either steal from or play a 1v1 game

"You do realize that you gain nothing by bullying me, right?"

"Wrong. I gain everything I could ever ask for."

He's pretty bad in the mini-games that require a lot of button mashing or evading objects or where you have to stay on a platform for as long as possible

What usually happens with the latter is that he accidently runs off it the moment the game starts

If someone wrongs him once he will make sure that the person does not win no matter what it costs

Daisy is his go-to character honestly. She seems so feisty in his eyes

Asmodeus

He's surprisingly great at the game! His reflexes and precision almost match Levi's in many mini games

But Asmo is always the last one who wants to move on from the training

"Come on, Asmo! It's been forever!"

"Don't stress me!"

The amount of swearing this man does during the game comes to such a surprise for you all. Especially when he's super into a mini game or something like that

Like that one time when Lucifer stole something away from right under Asmo's nose

"You fucking bitch."

The first-born was too stun locked by that otherwise he would have let hellfire rain down on his brother

Asmo immediately fell in love with Peach and Toadette and he takes turn in playing with them depending which Mario Party you guys are playing

Beelzebub

The only one who's here for the fun bonding time with his family. He loves seeing everyone sit together and playing something even if they're all murdering each other over it

Just like Asmo he's doing fairly good with the difference that Beel's luck is unmatched. No one knows how or why, but he somehow always lands on the best spots on the map

When he's the last one standing during team games he gets so stressed out that he becomes like Satan and just walks off the map or something

"You got this, Beel."

No, he doesn't. Why are you making him so nervous?

Someone always has to take over his controller when it comes to button mashing games. There are way too many controllers that got broken by him, because he pressed too hard

He likes playing as Toad or Donkey Kong

Belphegor

Unhinged

One thing about him is that he doesn't play to win. He plays to fuck with everyone. There is no sense or strategy. Only fuckery

Depending on who is on his team during these type of games he will sabotage it on purpose and is all in all backstabbing everyone left and right

He's very dedicated on bullying either Lucifer or Mammon, but Asmo also isn't safe. It's just so funny to hear him screech and curse like a sailor

The bullying is balanced and fair though, but he sometimes does pick out a specific victim like if Levi wins too many rounds then he will decide to make his life miserable for the next couple ones

He chooses Yoshi from time to time to make Levi cry. Other than that he thinks that Birdo looks cool, but he usually goes for villainous looking characters to really bring up the spirit

---

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me brothers #obey me luci #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor