#Hoops dio by

[npyn]

#mystel #bakuten shoot beyblade #beyblade g revolution #beyblade #beyblade mystel #gold hoop earrings is the only thing im good at drawing bcuz of the no. of times i drew dio-

[flowercrowngods]

i loved the bits of steve and el you posted, oh my god. their familial relationship is EVERYTHING to me now! 😭

oh 🥺 thank you nonnie 🥹🤍

actual footage of me right now btw

and if you want, have some more under the cut because, like eddie, flattery works on me :D

Twenty minutes pass before Steve can hear her coming down the stairs, a clumsiness to her steps that he doesn’t quite expect. He turns to her immediately and smiles at the image he’s presented with: Eleven, wearing a black zipper jacket over the maroon sweater and the light grey sweats he picked out, both of them far too big on her. The sweats are not cuffed at the ankles but instead stuffed into a white pair of socks, making her legs look absolutely bulky and like maybe she was born in a chem lab instead of whatever Hawkins Lab is supposed to be. A chuckle escapes him when he sees that Eleven is holding onto the sweats, too, keeping them from slipping down her legs.

Twenty minutes pass before Steve can hear her coming down the stairs, a clumsiness to her steps that he doesn’t quite expect. He turns to her immediately and smiles at the image he’s presented with: Eleven, wearing a black zipper jacket over the maroon sweater and the light grey sweats he picked out, both of them far too big on her. The sweats are not cuffed at the ankles but instead stuffed into a white pair of socks, making her legs look absolutely bulky and like maybe she was born in a chem lab instead of whatever Hawkins Lab is supposed to be. A chuckle escapes him when he sees that Eleven is holding onto the sweats, too, keeping them from slipping down her legs.

“Hang on,” he says, amused and endeared beyond belief, and crouches down in front of her. “I’m gonna fix that for you, yeah?”

El nods, and Steve slowly but surely gets to work. He pulls the strings of the sweats tight and ties them in a knot and a bow, letting her experience the way the pants won’t slide down now.

“See? That’s better, isn’t it? Wanna learn?”

Again, she nods, and so he pulls on the string again, letting it unravel beneath his hands and repeating the same motions over and over again until she takes it in her own hands and tries to tie a knot and a bow herself. It’s not quite as tight as it ought to be, so Steve instructs her to pull as tightly as feels comfortable, and this time around the bow actually doesn’t look too bad.

“Great work,” he grins, and delights in the genuine smile he gets in return.

Then Steve fixes the sweat pants’ legs, untucking them from the socks and instead cuffing them, rolling them up almost halfway, until her ankles are free and she won’t slip and stumble anymore. The thick fabric stays in place perfectly, and when Steve looks up at Eleven again to gauge her reaction, she’s giving him that wide, happy smile again.

“Feel good?”

“Feel good.”

Steve smiles and reaches out to ruffle her buzzed hair again. An almost automatic motion that he really needs to get a grip on. But Eleven doesn’t seem to mind too much.

#the second anon today?? PEOPLE TALKING TO ME?? 😭🤍 #nonnie friend i am sending you flowers 🥺 a water lilly placed prettily on the crown of your head. a daisy tucked behind your ear #your shoelace hoops adorned with pretty petals 🤍 #soft soft soft im so soft aah i love when people love my stuff especially steve & el 🥹 #dio talks #🤍 #steve & eleven #also if anyones reading the time travel au the snippet under the cut should be from chapter 6 or 7 so mild spoilers actually #time travel au #i’ll try i’ll try

[thatone-brightstar]

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 12: A Carmy shade of blue

Words: 7.4k

Summary: It all comes down to this...

a/n: I made Fox’s set and it came out so good omg! Can we please talk about the dedication! Also I’m posting the Epilogue right after this one so enjoys both and remember comments are always appreciated!

Ps. reader is Latina in this so there will be some Spanish!

‘You can do this. You can totally do this. You don’t have to talk to him, just show up.’

You had been trying to psych yourself up for the better part of the last half hour. After clipping on your earring and fixing the curly pieces of hair that frame your face, you thought you’d feel brave enough to move. But your legs stayed locked in place, tightly knotted over the vanity stool that had started to dig into the sides of your bare thighs. 

The bubbling nerves had you doubting all your decisions. The dress didn’t seem appropriate so you changed, then your makeup felt cakey so you rinsed it off and started over. The necklace was too small, the hoops too big, the urge to call Carmy too grand and the noise from the living room too overstimulating. Between the volume on the stereo and your aunts’ joyous laugh, the thin walls didn’t stand a chance and neither did the vibrating pulse in your skull.

You finally push yourself off the stool and stalk past the hallway to the kitchen, slamming your door in the process. The circle of heads turn in your direction as you appear in the space, each sister cradling a glass of wine in their hands.

“Mamá -mamita- por favor, can you turn that shit down!” You say louder than intended and you know you fucked up just from the look on her face.

“Que te dije de azotar puertas en mi casa, eh?! Cuando vivas en tu casa entonces-”

“-puedes hacer lo que se te dé la gana-” You recite over her words, rolling your eyes and causing the nerves to pound harder in the back of them. “Yes, I know, mami but can you please just turn it down? My head is killing me…”

“Okay- okay. Ya, see? It’s down.” She says, making a show of pointing the control to the stereo and lowering the volume to the lowest. “What, are you hungover again?”

You drag yourself around the counter to greet your aunts with a kiss, then take the empty space beside your mother and rest your aching head over her shoulder. “No, I haven’t gone out… It’s probably just my period, I dunno. Y mi abuelo?” You ask and rub at the empty space between your brows.

“Playing cards with his friends.” Angie answers, picking at the platter they had set in the middle of their circle. “You sure you’re not pregnant?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that!?”

“Ay dios, pues maybe cause you’re all moody!” Tere adds.

“Maybe cause I’m nervous!”

“Then that’s why your head hurts…” Your mother says as she gently runs her fingers through the soft curls. Then she laughs out of nowhere. “Remember that time in the school choir, when you had the solo and you were so nervous you-” She’s laughing too hard to finish and the echo of all three only makes you groan.

You pull your head from her shoulder and rest it over your palm with your elbow on the cool surface of the counter. “One: I was like five, and two, you remember that but can’t stop calling me ‘mijo’ every time I walk into a room?”

Her laughter dies down as she waves her hand dismissively and takes a drink from her glass. “You two have the same stride, it's not my fault!”

“So what are you nervous about?” Tere changes the subject while she peels the skin off her grape.

“She’s nervous to see her ex..” Your mother answers, as if you weren’t in the room to speak for yourself.

“Ay, el de los ojitos?” Angie asks surprised. “I like him, he’s cute.”

“Y’know who I like? The other one- the tall one-, give me two more glasses and I’ll climb ‘em like a tree-”

“Ma ya!” You call out with a grossed out expression, trying to avoid the mental picture of your mother and Richie from even materializing in your head.

“Qué? How do you think you got here!?” She says between the chorus of chuckles.

‘Jesus, fuck’ You think and shudder, then take the wine glass from her hand and down the rest of the liquid that successfully drowns your nerves.

With the soft music floating in the air, Angie takes the bottle and pours a hefty amount of liquid into the glass in your hands.

“So, boy troubles?” She asks, only receiving a nod from your part, eyes fixed on the swirling maroon. 

“He’s catering tonight and we didn’t really… end things on a good note.”

“So what? This is your day too and you can’t let a little fight get in the way…”

You don’t have the time or energy to entertain them with the whole story of your failed situation with Carmy. They know about the car crash but not the bridge or of Mikey and the last thing you need is all three finding out over wine and a cheeseboard.

“I just won’t go, it’s easier like that…” You take another sip. “I’ll stay with you guys instead.”

“Ah-ah, no. Mira-” Your mother grabs a hold of your knees and turns your body to face her. “Mi amor, if you stay cause you’re nervous that’s fine, your painting’s will still be there. But you can’t stay just cause you’re scared you might see him.” Her hand feels warm and soft over your knees. 

“I feel like I fucked it up worse with what I said yesterday…” You confess to the women and even when you thought your eyes had gone dry, a few drops seem to accumulate on your bottom lid. “What if that was it, what if the last thing I told him was to get his shit together…”

“Then you were telling him what he needed to hear. You said it because you care, not because you wanted to hurt him and if he can’t tell the difference, then you did the right thing by stepping off that train early.” She wraps one arm around your shoulders and pulls you to her side. “But you won’t know if it works out unless you go…”

A hefty sigh rattles your lungs, the wisp of your mother’s familiar perfume filters through your nostrils and calms you down better than the wine ever could. She was right, you couldn’t go through life scared that you might run into him all the time. This was more important to you than having to hide from him, no matter how things had ended.

“Now I know I raised a bad bitch not a little one, asi que andale, finish getting ready or you’ll be late-” A soft laugh bubbles in your throat as she playfully shoves you off the stool and in the direction to your room, turning up the volume again once you’re gone.

“And show us the look before you go!” You hear your aunt Angie’s voice bounce through the hallway.

**********

The whole 24 hours leading up to the auction felt like a fever dream for Carmy. Since the moment you fled the grounds with bloodshot eyes, to the obscene amount of cash they kept pulling out of canned tomatoes, he had felt not at all there. In a daze, flashes of blurred out scenes from a third perspective take the space of memories every time he tries to recall. Like a long ago dream that he can’t quite make out if it’s real or not. Except it is, and they did find that money… and he also did break your heart. 

He still remembers the overwhelming impulse that itched under his skin with every empty can that was thrown into the garbage. To reach for his phone and call you, or better yet, to drive to your place and back because there was no way in hell you would believe him if you didn’t see it for yourself. Even at the end of the day- when he was home washing out the thick pulp from under every fingernail- he wondered if he could still try. Run to your house and confess how much of an asshole he was for not noticing the shit he put you through. Girls dig that shit, right? 

But even if he did run after you now, what would he say? He already proved himself incompetent word-wise, inside the walk-in. The surprise to see you again had rendered him speechless, as if an ice cube had been dropped down his shirt and he had no other choice but to pretend like the cold wasn’t piercing his skin. Pretend with tight fists and wavering stares like it wasn’t eating him alive to refrain from pulling you into his arms. The plain touch of your skin as he nursed your wound was enough to rile up weeks’ worth of shrouded emotions he was too afraid to confess, because every time he tried dialing your number, the words would constrict his throat and leave him heaving over the bathroom sink. 

“I still don’t understand why we gotta wear this…” 

“I think we look fine as hell!” Marcus says grinning and checking himself out in the dull reflection of the oven. “Like professionals…”

“Speak for yourself, mine’s all itchy.” Sweeps mutters under his tone while pulling around the neck of his new chef’s coat.

“Alright, take ‘em off before you stain ‘em with something.” Sydney calls from the entrance with an impatient motion in her hands. “They’re for the event tonight, so we actually look put together and not- well, whatever this is...”

“..Cute?”

“..Sexy?”

“Late. We’re gonna be late, if you don’t quit messing around and finish filling up the truck!” They both yell a hard ‘Yes, Chef!’ then continue hauling the plastic boxes with the preparations for the evening into the van Syd had borrowed from one of her cousins. 

Carmen watches half concentrated to make sure that nothing is thrown around, although he trusts them enough to know they’ll be careful. Instead, he’s focused his attention on finishing the last of the sauces, a sweet Demi Glacé that he insisted on making himself. Now that they would be closing for renovations and the tension of staying afloat wasn’t straining his back, he enjoyed every second of the process. Cooking didn’t feel like something he had to do anymore, but something he wanted to as well as enjoyed, and he wasn’t sure how long it had been since the last time he felt that way. He did know, but the images carried a bitter sensation that weighed thick on his mouth and he was trying excruciatingly hard to stay above his regular broody mood.

“Yo, chef, you not comin’ with?” Marcus asks once they’ve compacted everything inside the small van.

“No, I -uhm-” Fuck. He swallows hard and tries to rack his brain for any plausible excuse. “-I trust you can manage.”

A groan echoes through the small space. “If you’re a little bitch just say that!” Tina chimes in with a mocking tone, setting down the tall metal cylinder filled with spoons and tongs that they’d be using for that night.

“T, c’mon-”

“Yeah, man just say that, don’t bruise my ego like that!”

“I’m not a little-”

“You gotta fight for love, man!”

“Even if she rejects you again-”

“Alright, shut up for a sec-” He grips the edge of the table in irritation, head hanging low. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I broke it off, okay?”

The words feel wrong as they tumble from his mouth. Not because of what they might say, if anything they were the few people he trusted most in the place, but something inside him didn’t like the sensation the words unearthed. They made his chest wither and crack, like the clay you had used to cover his fissures was popping off with every reminder of your absence. 

“...Why?” Marcus asks, breaking the silence. 

Carmy doesn’t answer, and even if he wanted to he wouldn’t know what to say. He chooses to shrug instead, heavy and noticeable in hopes that this is a sufficient response that will get them off his back.

Tina takes a step closer and reaches out to softly pat his shoulder. “No offense Carm, but I don’t think you’ll be able to pull anyone better than her…”

Her words rip a soft snigger from his throat, from his side view he watches her pick up the cylinder again and walk to the back where he assumes the rest of the team awaits by the van.

Marcus stays beside him, contemplating the words around before letting them out. “Shit got rough, then?” 

“That's an understatement” He mutters through bared teeth as he fears another word will split the last piece of clay holding him together.

“My statement still stands… Shit gets rough for everybody but that doesn't mean you gotta go through it alone… just sayin’.”

Marcus pushes himself off the table to leave, taking the sauce with him and leaving Carmy with his tumultuous thoughts in the restaurant that hadn’t known this much peace since its opening day.

**********

The typically calm ambience of the gallery had been replaced by the buzzing sounds of chatter and movements as the last details were polished with only a few hours to the opening. You had been in a hectic frenzy since your arrival, only finally catching your breath when you were certain everything was where it needed to be. The decorations sat strategically by the entrance and away from the attention of the artwork, clipboards and pens had been placed for whoever wanted to bid and the bar stations had been successfully assembled around the perimeter of the room.

“Thanks again for the help, I owe you one.” You say as you help carry the last box of champagne bottles to one of the bars.

“No prob, to be honest I’m just here for the free booze-” Nico answers with a grunt, picking the box from your hands and taking the bottles out to chill in ice.

“As opposed to what? The other free booze at your regular gig?” You ask your cousin in a teasing tone.

“Hey, just cause I drink it, don’t make it free.” 

“Just try not to black out, okay? Angie ’ll kill me if I let you drive home like that!” 

You hear a mocking ‘Yeah, yeah’ as you leave him to go open the back door for Syd, after reading the text from Marcus that they had arrived. The floor feels slightly unstable as you walk past the back, to the door that leads onto the side alley, but you credit it to the irritating thought that it may be Carmen’s face that you’ll see once you open the door.

A sigh of relief- and partial disappointment- parts from you at the sight of Marcus and Sweeps dragging out a long white cooler from the back of a beated van, but no Carmy in sight. They both greet you quickly as you guide them into the area they’ll be occupying temporarily. It’s the same space your easels had been standing in for the last month, though the only evidence of it were the small stains and smudges of cyan and teal on the gray concrete.

“There are another two tables up front, by the expo, so you can serve up there. This one’s just for like, mise en place, if you need anything from scratch.” You say to Syd while the rest of the team finish unpacking.

“Yeah. no this is fine. We finished everything this morning. I only brought a portable burner for a few of the sauces, but other than that, we’re set.”

You nod in response as you watch them observe their surroundings in awe, the multiple rows of never ending art catching their attention.

“Sorry for bailing like that… yesterday.” You blurt out as the words seem to catapult straight from your guilt. “It was a dick move.”

Syd acknowledges it with her own nod. “It was a dick move- but, y’know… I get it.” She shrugs.

Your throat itches to ask about him, if he’s considered coming, even with the excuse to check up on them. But you know that regardless of the answer, the pressure over your chest won’t subside, so you resign to bite the soft flesh inside your mouth to keep the words at bay.

“Uhm. well let me know if you need anything. The whole thing starts in an hour so just make sure to have everything over by the tables by then.”

A chorus of ‘Heard’s resonates in the large space and Syd turns to you with a proud smile, wiggling her brows. You give her an enthusiastic thumbs up before stepping back and out into the busy room, striding directly into Nico’s bar.

“Pour me a glass, will ya?” You ask with a soft knock on the counter, applying pressure between your brows.

“Bro, I haven’t even opened anything yet…” You stare up at him through incredulous slits, earning a sigh from his part, then he pulls an open champagne bottle from the small fridge and a glass.

As soon as he sets it down, you take it and rapidly chug the amber liquid, bubbles burning the sides of your throat and filling in the void in your chest.

“Woah, woah- cousin! We’re not gonna run out, chill…”

You place the glass back down and wipe the corners of your mouth. “Sorry, I really needed that.” 

“You good?”

“Yeah… yeah.” You sigh, then turn to scan the room one last time.

Past the glass walls, you can see a small crowd already beginning to form at the entrance. The culmination of months of hard work stands behind the transparent barrier, and a part of you can’t help but to think of all the ways tonight could go wrong. ‘What if the lights go off in the middle of the event?’ or ‘What if the whole thing blows over and we don’t raise any funds?’ and the worst of all ‘What if no one likes my work and they’re the only ones that don’t sell?’. 

“You sure?” He asks with a creased brow. “You’re kinda hyperventilating…”

“Yeah…” You say for the third time, less convinced than the first two. “Y’know what, Nico can you pour-”

“-Way ahead of you.” The soft sizzling of the drink is muted by the instrumental music playing over the speakers, but you still hear the glass slide by your palm, where it rests over the cool surface.

You know it’s a bad idea to drink two glasses straight, especially when all you’ve had to eat is a granola bar you found at the bottom of your bag on the train ride there, but the thought is soon chased away by the cooling liquid trickling down to your empty stomach and drowning it completely. You only finish half of it before being whisked away by Syd to help with setting their station. 

With a pair of latex gloves and your hair thrown into a bun, you paint streaks of raspberry coulis along the bottom of the small dishes, then above that, you place the small tapas that Marcus is assembling beside you. The alcohol has calmed your fingers enough to draw steady lines over the canvas and the repetitive actions soothe the wavering anxiety.

“They turned out fire…” Marcus comments by your side.

“Hmm?”

“The Brioche bites. The chai filling was a good call.”

“Oh, right- yeah, I’m glad!”

“Can’t wait for you to try them, chef. These things are gonna fly!” His excitement is contagious and you can’t help but to smile up at him too.

“I’ll definitely try one before they do…”

“I saw your set by the way, on my way here…”

You swallow dryly, flicking your gaze to him from your hunched position then back to your task.

“Yeah? And, uh, w-what did you think?”

Marcus shrugs lightly and stands to his full height, even in your heels you barely reach his shoulder, let alone without them. Everytime you stand beside him, you’re reminded to straighten your posture, as if that’ll do any good in stretching you up.

“I don’t know shit about art, but I thought it was baller. I like what you did to The Beef. I’d bid, y’know… if I had any money.” 

You nod slowly with a slight smile flourishing on your face and turn back down to fill up a tray for one of the waiters. 

With most of your concentration on the kaleidoscope of served plates, you don’t notice the room starting to slowly fill up. Only when the music grows a little louder and the chatter reaches your ears, you lift your head to spot the swaying crowd already holding bubbling flutes in their hands and gravitating in your direction. 

“Think you can manage, chef? Or do I call for backup?” You challenge Marcus, pointing with your head to the oncoming group.

“Nah, I’m all good, you go ahead. Run ‘em dry” 

“Yes, chef” You respond with a salute and a click of our tongue, then throw your apron under the table and cautiously round it on your way to the open space.

It wasn’t as bad as you assumed it would be. Once you broke through the initial awkwardness of having to answer questions about some of the pieces, it all seemed to flow naturally. You had the most knowledge about them, after all. Months of planning and studying the best layout for each work had you inevitably remembering details that hadn’t seemed useful until now. You could gladly keep answering questions all night if it meant keeping your thoughts shut and your mouth busy.

You avoid your set like an active minefield, though. Now that you think about it, you’ve only seen it complete once -two weeks ago when you finished it- around three in the morning and slightly high. It was the only way you were able to do it without throwing up and turning into an angry sobbing mess. It was also the only set you didn’t hang up yourself, asking instead two of your coworkers for help while you stood outside with the cigarettes you had recently picked up again. In a way it was intentional. You had poured the most turbulent contents of your soul into each stroke, plastered it in the open for everyone to see and dissect. You didn’t want to see it in fear of hating how exposed you felt and pulling the plug. You do wonder. What it may look like under the dimmed lights, if the colors swirl with the shades you intended or if they fall flat against the canvas with no real sentiment.  

The memory of the five paintings laying side by side is a bit foggy in your head and you bite your lip as your feet guide you deeper inside the maze you’ve been avoiding. 

You stop by a wall that harbors your student’s final projects and the dread is momentarily overshadowed by pride. Each painting has its own bidding sheet, it’s not part of the actual auction of course, but it helps boost their morale. Before leaving, you take a closer look at the lists and smile as you read the name of the respective parent, along with the copious sum they wanted to ‘offer’ for their child’s work.

A faint wave of insecurity stirs inside as you spot a sparse crowd discussing technique and motivations of the artist and you gulp down a bit of the liquid in what has become your emotional support glass. 

“I think it’s too obvious…”

“Is it? Really? How so?”

“It’s obviously the crashing result capitalism has had on the smaller businesses of the city…”

“You definitely just made that up-”

A gentle snort blows over the rim of your glass while overhearing the stranger’s conversation. Your heels click softly as you settle by the back wall and eventually drag your eyes up to the five frames. Swirls of pearl, browns and aquamarine decorate the desolate icy blue eyes of a grizzly as it stares directly past the canvas. The sorrow has fallen heavy over droopy lids, patches of ash scatter over its matted fur. Under the large canvas, another three smaller ones depict angry oranges and blood reds swallowing up a pot, a stove top and ultimately engulfing the whole perimeters of The Beef.

The last painting spreads across the bottom of the smaller ones, same dimensions as The Bear. It sits cleaner, in faux composure, with defined lines around the borders of a stainless steel counter observed from the front. A mess of open bottles and jars rests beside a dish, meticulous yet chaotically plated. Splashes of a thick orange sauce invade the surface under a perfectly cooked salmon. It contrasts with the mess surrounding it as it seems like every tiny herb was tweezed on to every spot with perfection. It’s perfect. 

Too perfect. As if it were trying to disguise a deeply rooted impotence, impostor syndrome. An anxiety that is blatantly obvious in the cinder-patched arms that finish plating the dish, fingers gripping onto the steel utensils for dear, dear life.  The small letters ‘S.O.U’ are barely visible under the black soot and repeat a second time over a thick line of green tape along the counter line.

Your ribs rattle with a deep inhale as you knock back the remaining liquid. The crowd in front of you sways in thick groups that momentarily cloud your view of the pieces, giving you seconds to breathe before the piercing eyes you tried to replicate wash over you again. It’s until the bodies disperse, that you catch an unnervingly familiar back leaning down to scribble something on your sheet, then rising and walking in the opposite direction to you. The sensation you feel can only be compared to slowly climbing up the rails of a roller coaster, as if the pit of your stomach had been stuck on land while you crawled up the treacherous metal.

You place the empty glass on the tray of a waiter passing by and despite the alarms ringing in your head that your actions would only cause more harm, you force your stiff legs to move in the direction of your work. With shaky hands you pick up the sheet to inspect the name. An eerie chill claws at your arms and you grip on to the flimsy material with all your strength or you fear you might collapse in front of everyone. In a recognizable cursive- taunting you motionlessly- sits the name ‘Isaac H.’ bidding six thousand dollars. One for each month you spent together. For each fucking month he made you believe he loved you, the sick fuck.

The panic in your veins turns to anger, hot and scolding, traveling at light speed and triggering your neck to check around the space for the familiar face. You’re moved by hatred, stalking out of the maze with the crumbled page digging into your wounded fist, still searching around. A familiar head swims through the crowd then disappears past the door. Your heels click again in the direction of the entrance, throwing the ball of paper into one of the trash cans on your way out. The rage boils too heavily and you have every intention to smack your fist in his face until your rings leave a dent, once you spot him outside.

However, he’s not alone. There’s a girl with him, lovingly hanging on to his arm. It’s not his wife, but someone that closely resembles you from a distance. From the same hair length to stature and the complexion of her skin. It’s a strange mirage that has your steps faltering to a stop and wanting to rub your eyes in hopes that it may all be in your head. She steps up on her toes to leave a kiss on his cheek with a small giggle when his arm pulls her closer to him.

“Oh, you poor thing..” You expect the blatant display to stir your insides in memory, yet pity is the only emotion that seems present over your screwed brows. Pity and shame, that you could not notice how fucked up he truly was so long ago.

You have half a mind to call out to the girl and save her from a similar fate to yours, but before you can, they’re hailing a cab and leaving in the opposite direction to the gallery. A heavy sigh escapes you and you soon find yourself pulling the beaten package and lighter from your cleavage for the third time tonight. 

Goosebumps rise on your skin from the evening air as you walk further away from the door, blowing smoke into the light breeze. You rest your exposed back over the cold glass wall, eyes focused on the passing cars and only moving mechanically to take a drag every few seconds while your other hand unconsciously fidgets with the lighter.

You feel exhausted, the bulk that hovered over your shoulders all through the day finally falling over them like a weighted blanket, rendering you still and heavy against the glass. You thought that seeing Isaac might have made you want to cry, but your exhaustion is far beyond physical at this point and your eyes have grown tired above all else. You rub your finger in the center of your brows, careful to not crush the cig resting between them. 

The low hum of the music playing past the glass lulls you into a state of calmness while you finish your cigarette, hot skin enjoying the soft breeze that comes in through the river.

“Shit-ah-” You hiss and look down to your hand, where the embers have caught up with the filter and nibbled at the delicate layer of skin, the throb makes you drop the bud to the ground. You inspect the small burn, then turn your palm up to see the uncovered cut that Carmy had nursed the evening before and another hefty sigh mixes with the wind. It feels like all you ever do is sigh nowadays.

With the slight lightheadedness of the nicotine and the booze floating in your system, you push your body off the glass and slowly walk back into the gallery in hopes that the event will end soon. As you make your way past the doors, one of the other coordinators tells you that someone interested in purchasing your paintings is waiting by them and for a second your blood runs cold at the thought that Isaac might have come back. But the idea soon falls through, when your eyes try to adjust to the change in lighting and you’re greeted by the blurry image of Carmen.

He stands with all his undivided attention towards the pieces in front of him, with a bouquet of red flowers hanging from his hand and you think that- despite everything else in the day- this is definitely the moment that’ll give you a heart attack. He’s wearing his chef whites, like the one the team is currently sporting, but he looks completely different from that one picture you had seen of him, with his sullen eyes and glossy hair. You swallow hard and deep, eyes racking the flexing muscles that now seem too noticeable under the white material. His sleeves are rolled up, letting the few tattoos peek out from under and his hair holds the messy curls that make your fingers twitch with want.

You stop in your tracks once you’ve spotted him, but don’t take your eyes away from his form, afraid that his presence is only a fiction of your tired imagination. It’s only when his attention is ripped from the frames and directed towards you, that your legs seem to gravitate without option towards him. There’s a mixture of emotions blending with the champagne in your system that makes your breath ragged and your skin hot despite the cold air invading the large room.

Your steps are cautious and after what feels like eternal seconds of anguish, you’re standing by his side, the heat radiating from his body matching your own.

“Hey…” He breathes out.

“Uh… hi.”

“I-uh- I know you’re supposed to get, like, flowers for actors and stuff but… didn’t know what to get for artists…” He speaks while lifting up the bouquet of what you can now distinguish as red carnations, fresh and full ones that make your heart grow too big inside your chest.

You nod your head slowly to acknowledge them but don’t speak, afraid the little control you have left will evaporate into thin air with your words, the sight of his soft baby blues already have you like a fly to a Venus.

“This is…” His eyes fall back to the wall, scanning over the frames in awe as you fidget with your fingers by your sides. “..a-amazing.” Then he takes a closer look at the bottom painting, brows slightly creased. “You… painted me?” He asks surprised

You shrug and point to one of the smaller frames. “I also painted The Beef on fire…”

“I almost did set The Beef on fire-” 

“What?”

“-O-on accident.”

You sigh out the heavy breath trapped in your chest, shoulders slouched in defeat. “Carmy…” His name feels at home over your lips, sweet honey suckles coating each syllable.

“I know, I really suck at this, just… gimme a sec-” He scratches the ghost of an itch over his forehead, more out of habit as he scrunches his eyes shut and searches his brain for the words that have been circling inside since last night.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you- and it was a complete dick move to react like that when all you did was try to tell me something important. I’m sorry for… everything. For thinking that you were only with me cause Mickey- for never calling you back to try and fix things…”

You tear your eyes away from his wounded ones, only to direct them to the similar expression harbored by your creation.

“I thought that… if I stayed away long enough, then maybe you’d notice how fucked I was a-and not want anything to do with me anymore.” He plays with his hand to try and calm the nerves, cracking his knuckles multiple times until the little bubbles won’t budge anymore. “I wanted to, though… call you.”

His soft confession slowly turns the tap on your barely contained feelings and you find yourself staring his way with hopeful eyes.

“Every time I was home I- I had to hold in my breath cause just the smell reminded me of you, and when I saw you in the restaurant I thought I had finally lost my shit” Carmy laughs softly under his breath. “And when you left-”

He swallows the knotted sensation blocking his throat and you take his pause to sniff back and swallow your own batch of tears.

“I tried to let go of it, to forget and just let you go- I really did Fox- but all that’s been running through my head since then is how good it felt to hear you say you love me-” He takes a decisive step towards you, palms growing sweaty under the cellophane wrap. “-and how much I want to hear it over and over and over again- but… just from you.”

Your sight of him grows blurry again past the tears that you thought dry,  coating your eyes.

“I didn’t know how to tell you before but I’ve been going to therapy. It’s al-anon family, for-uh- a couple sessions now… around three months.” He notices your expression is more confused than before and mentally cringes at his lack of communication skills. “It’s helped out a lot. You had nothing to do with what Mickey did, it’s a really fuckin’ awful coincidence, I get it now. But I’m glad he was there to stop you- to save you- cause I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you weren’t here, Fox.”

And there it was, the second you felt your heart stop and any trace of oxygen leave your body, a feeling only he could ever give you. Your lips tremble slightly with the tears in your eyes and you pull your bottom lip under your teeth to stop its shaking. He takes another step, then another, until your chests are so close, you’re both only a deep breath away from sealing the space.

“I searched half the city cause I wanted to get you Carnations…” He mumbles, raising up the bouquet in your direction a second time. “I know they were your-”

“-Grandmother’s favorite” You speak in unison and chuckle. “...yeah” 

This time you don’t reject his approach, wrapping a hand around the base, fingers lingering over his for a few moments. Your gaze stays glued on the ruffled rouge petals, a soft smile curving ever so slowly at the ends of your lips.

“Whatever happens, I want to be by your side when it does. As a friend or-or more- if you’ll still have me…”

Beat. Exhale. Beat. Inhale.

It’s soft and tender and calm. The way your heart at last feels at rest. Like it had worked in overdrive all this time to keep you alive for this precise moment and can now take a step back in relief. A hue of sapphire invades your surroundings, drowning the walls and bystanders in what you’ve baptized as a ‘Carmy shade of blue’. Incomparable and unique to the man bathing you in his loving stare. 

Your body reacts before your mind, losing the last bit of self control under the gentle waves, with arms circling his shoulders like a raft. It’s as if you can breathe again, nose clear, lungs full and head above the water; and you know very well that damned is the person that deposits all their stability on to another but you don’t seem to care. Not when the arms pressing you tightly to his sturdy chest feel like coming home.

“I missed you.” You whisper against the dip of his neck, nose nuzzled into the wild strands.

“Me too.” He sniffs to pull back the joyous tears. “I meant it Fox, I really do fuckin’ love you-” Empty hands cup your cheeks and tilt your head up to press your lips to his.

You don’t try to hold back the grin the awaited kiss brings you, instead sliding your hand to his chest and gripping around his uniform to pull him impossibly closer. A pleased sigh escapes your chest when he pulls back and presses his forehead over yours.

“I love you too, Bear.” Is all you can say.

The bustle of your surroundings grows quiet in deaf ears, silenced by Carmen’s steady breath and the resting beat in your chest.

“Alright Van Gogh, let's see what you got- holy shit…”

You can hear Richie’s voice around the corner before you even see him and take a step away from Carmy, he still keeps his arm around your waist to hold you close once his cousin joins you in front of the frames. 

“This you?” He gawks pointing towards the wall. You nod. “Damn. Badass…”

It’s the most quiet you’ve seen him since you met the man, he’s just standing still while absorbing every detail in great concentration.

“So anyway, you two fuckin' again or what?” He turns to you after a few little seconds of silence. 

“Jesus, Cousin! Why you gotta go make everythin’ weird-”

“I had to ask just in case I fucked up again-” They start talking over each other as you just stand there and smile at the banter. “Sorry sweetheart, you and I wouldn’t have worked out anyway…” Richie directs towards you.

“I am truly shattered.” You respond, hand sarcastically over your heart. 

“Yeah, yeah…” He groans. “Listen cuz, some rich guy’s asking if we do weddings and shit. You go talk to ‘em, I didn’t know what to say since we're closin’ and all that, plus rich people give me hives-”

“Wait, you're closing the restaurant?” You ask up at Carmy in confusion.

“Renovating-” He blurts out.

“Didn’t he tell you ‘bout the money?-” The taller of the two throws your way.

“Money?- The fuck did I miss…”

“It’s kind of a long story…” His grip on your waist pulls you in closer. “Tell you at home… yeah?”

You can’t say no to the way his eyes glow under the fluorescents, though it seems something more shines behind them than just the brightness in the room. You bite down on your lip with a smile and only speak a soft ‘okay’ with a kiss to the corner of his lips. Richie groans again from a few steps away, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes, though deep down he knows he feels relief that his cousin won’t be so alone anymore.

You stay in each other's line of sight for the rest of the night. While he helps out plating the canapes, Carmy sneaks a couple peeks in your direction. Seeing you move freely through the space with a new found delight while speaking to some of the guests brings a peace to his chest that he had been afraid to never feel again. You catch his stares each time and share a complicit smile with every one of them. It’s subtle, just for him- a loving message delivered in a crowded room- ‘i love you’s scribbled in little notes and slipped across the desk in silence. 

The room started to die down around 11. You had bribed Nico with the promise of food if he gave you some drinks that the team gladly took once they were done carrying everything back into the van.

The gravel in the back alley of the gallery groans under everyone’s  tired feet, but in spite of that, there’s a jovial spark in the cold breeze around them. Crates and long empty coolers serve as makeshift seats for the family huddled together. You and Carmy sit on the edge of the van, doors open wide and with a drink in the hand that isn’t holding the others’ while everyone debriefs their day. 

“Dude I swear if one more person asked me for some gluten free, keto, low calorie bull crap I was gonna lose my shit.” Tina groans before taking a swig off her drink.

“Yeah, I heard you saying ‘No hablo ingles’ halfway through the night.” Sweeps jokes, earning a sincere laugh from the group.

“Hey too bad your work didn’t sell.” Syd says in your direction. 

“No one bid on ‘em?”

“Dunno-” You shrug, leaning into Carmy’s side with his arm around you, feet swinging peacefully and heels fully abandoned by the door. “Marge told me there was no way they could know who won cause they couldn’t find the bidding sheet.”

“Tough luck…” Richie mumbles from his own seat. “They were pretty sick, kid.”

“Thanks… It’s not that bad really, she let me take ‘em home. Maybe it can be an early opening gift for your new place…” You turn to Carmy, who holds a loving smile to you and nods warmly.

“What’re we gonna call it, anyway?” Marcus asks after a couple minutes when the conversation broke down into smaller ones.

“Oh, we already got a name.” The man by your side answers.

“We do?”

“Yeah… ” He turns to you for a microsecond while his other hand scratches a phantom itch under his nose in nervousness. “It’s-uh, it’s The Bear.”

“The Bear..” Marcus repeats, swirling the words around in his mouth and smiling approvingly to the taste. “I like it. To The Bear.” He raises his glass in the center of the circle you’ve created and everyone follows suit.

Tonight, the midnight sky is bright with millions of stars and the unspoken promise that whatever happens, you will be by each other’s side when it does. 

So you scoot closer to the edge, toes grazing the cold gravel and lips pressed to Carmy’s beaming face as you all toast ‘to The Bear’.

Epilogue.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry, @kirakombat and that’s it lmao

#carmen berzatto x reader #the bear & the fox #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy smut #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #the bear tv #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto smut #carmy x poc reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto the bear #the bear fic #the bear imagine #the bear #carmen berzatto fan fiction #jeremy allen white imagine

[peptothesi]

Hoops to guide the love handles

Hmm oh nothing much I was just thinking about the JoJo’s being annoying and arguing to the reader but then reader has enough and loops their fingers into the belts hoops to pull them closer and telling them to shush in an annoyed voice making them flustered I’m just AAA—

Jonathan

🐶 Oh my lord in these times what is going on-

🐶 Loosing his shit in the most gentlemanly way possible.

🐶 At first he doesn’t realise the position or the intimacy of the moment until he does he’s just like “Why did you pull me so close I wasn’t done” until he looks down and see your hands on his jeans and your bodies so close together.

“ Can you please shut up”

🐶 He went very quiet, he didn’t appreciate the rudeness but he supposed it was needed and he definitely found it attractive-

🐶 You remove your hands and go about your day and he’s just going to follow you around trying to apologise and hoping he can ask about what happened.

🐶 It awoken something within him.

10/10 I love a flustered himbo.

Joseph

✈️ Oh my god-

✈️ He reads mangas and they’ve prepared him for a lot in life but not this-

✈️ He’s shocked especially when you tell him to be quiet in such an aggressive dominant tone- LORD HAVE MERCY—

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up”

“😳”

✈️ And then you shove him away having him stumble and he just watches you glare at him before turning away with an angry stomp in you step and he’s just frozen.

✈️ He will tease you nonstop and see if he can push you to that limit again cause that was HOT!

“ Joseph I have a headache can you stop please?”

“ C’mon Y/N you’re going to have to be a bit more aggressive then that if you want it to work 😏”

✈️ He knows what he’s doing.

✈️ He’s a brat!!!

9/10 I would kill to do this and make him flustered the power!!!

Jotaro

🐬 He’s not impressed.

🐬 Only he can be the annoyed grumpy one.

🐬 He will pin you one hand in his pocket and on the wall right next to your face, and he’s going to lean in and give you a piece of his mind.

“Oi shut up you’re annoying”

“….”

“Hey what—“

*pins against wall*

“Don’t.tell.me.what.to.do”

🐬 And he walks away.

🐬 Then again the more he thinks about it he realises it’s just karma biting him in the ass and you’ve picked it up from him which he finds cute.

🐬 But don’t get an attitude with him alright, he doesn’t like it even though it’s a taste of his own medicine.

—1/10 not a fan in the slightest.

Josuke

💛 He would get SO red it’s actually adorable.

“Shut up, higashikata! Or I’ll do it for you”

“Wha—“

💛 He needs to fanned cause he would be fit to pass out.

💛 What’s worse is that he pouted his lips because when you pulled him close he thought you were going to kiss him!

💛 He was mortified!!

💛 But he found it so hot when you took control like oh my goodness-

💛 He will tease you later on about it.

“So- You wanna talk about earlier?”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry Josuke that was out of line I was just tired I’m sorry-“

“No no it’s ok I shouldn’t have overreacted like that but if I’m going to be honest it was kind of attractive the way you took charge-“

“Really?”

“Oh yeah😏”

8/10 love it he’s so cute and his reaction would be 🤌

Giorno

(He doesn’t have belt hoops but let’s pretend)

🐸 Oh! Wow this is a new position.

🐸 He wasn’t done being mad but I guess that can wait.

“Silencio Giorno”

🐸 LOVES when you speak Italian (idc if you can or not just pretend).

🐸 Dio’s part of him would enjoy it WAY too much.

🐸 He’d be so tempted to just say “make me” but he’s too polite for that.

🐸 It would definitely catch him off guard and he would not complain in the slightest.

6/10 he’s too good at not giving a reaction but he still enjoyed it.

#female y/n #gn y/n #jjba x reader #male y/n #giorno x reader #jjba x y/n #jonathan joestar x reader #joseph joestar x reader #josuke higashikata x reader #jotaro x reader

[sopestvr]

♱⠀ “OLDER SISTER Y/N.” : BLLCK BOYS !

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“DIOS MÍO, YOU ARE SUCH A NERD.”

⟣⠀IN WHICH .. i demonstrate how i think my version of y/n would act as the older sister of different blue lock boys.

⟣⠀GENRE .. older sister!y/n. fluff. comedy (??).

⟣⠀CONTENTS .. fem reader. mutual pining. sibling banter. older sibling protectiveness. older sister teasing.

⠀✩⠀⠀ISAGI FAMILY

♱⠀Y/N ISAGI⠀who enjoys teasing and prodding fun at the fairly short Isagi. he’s always been smaller than the girl, even when they were little kids. their parents were unsure where the girl got her genetic muscular physique or height, Isagi indefinitely envying his older sister for her advantages.

♱⠀Y/N ISAGI⠀that would bully the bullies who picked on Isagi and his friends as kids. no matter if they were simply calling him names, or if they were full on pushing him around; Y/N was always right there pummeling the kids’ faces in and throwing them into trash cans so even when they got out, they’d reek. just like their attitudes.

♱⠀Y/N ISAGI⠀is the definition of fuck around and find out. she never once threatened people when it came to her brother, she just waited til they thought he was an easy target and then she’d make her move. yeah, her careless actions caused her to be suspended quite a lot, but that wasn’t important to her.

♱⠀Y/N ISAGI⠀who, despite going through hoops to make sure her brother was protected in the real world, would willingly give the small boy wedgies and put his favorite things on high shelves so he couldn’t reach them. no one was allowed to mess with her brother besides her, and she made sure that everyone knew that.

♱⠀Y/N ISAGI⠀that helped train Isagi into the stubborn egoist he is today, the girl forcing him to grow thick skin as a kid so he wouldn’t be pushed down so easily by other players who were equally as stubborn and hard headed as he was. it was a tough journey, but in the end paid off when she saw him on the big screen playing like an absolute menace.

⠀✩⠀⠀BACHIRA FAMILY

♱⠀Y/N BACHIRA⠀that adores every last inch of her psychotic little brother. she’d sacrifice everything just to see him smile. she knew how people felt about him, and for most of their childhood, she tried to shield him from the fact. yet, once they reached a certain age, kids stopped caring and just straight up told him; leading to the girl putting them in their place for speaking ill of her brother.

♱⠀Y/N BACHIRA⠀who couldn’t help but poke fun at and tease her brother when he first grasped an interest in soccer. with phrases like “ay, coño, it’s the damn hispanic in you” followed by a sarcastic face palm. or comments on what player he liked; “dios mío, you are such a nerd”.

♱⠀Y/N BACHIRA⠀is the embodiment of older sister. whenever she wasn’t teasing and beating up her brother, she was mentoring him on how to treat a lady, or just plain out beating him up just for the sake of it. she loved him, but she was the eldest so she had to keep the tough love reputation.

♱⠀Y/N BACHIRA⠀will always put family first. no matter how many of her “friends” tried disliking her brother, she’d rather kick their asses for their weird glares and odd comments than ever choose to stick by them. did she get an expulsion scare for doing so? possibly. And, she’d do it again if she had to.

♱⠀Y/N BACHIRA⠀that goes out of her way to sneak into blue lock just to visit her little brother and taunt him about being cooped up in a facility with a bunch of dudes for weeks on end. she may have threatened ego and anri a bit to give her brother his phone so he could text her, but she swore to him she didn’t do any real damage. (no promises tho)

⠀✩⠀⠀NAGI FAMILY

♱⠀Y/N NAGI⠀is seishiro’s biggest competitor. from the moment they both picked up a game controller they were always butting heads; in the sibling type of way, of course. she’s the one who taught him everything he knows of course, but didn’t mean he had to go easy on her. and she didn’t want him to.

♱⠀Y/N NAGI⠀would non stop pick on the boy for his height as a kid due to the fact that he was fairly small for his age. however, once junior high rolled around, and he hit the preteen age; Y/N wasn’t the only freakishly tall person roaming the home anymore. with her standing at 6’5, and seishiro 6’3, their parents couldn’t keep up with how much the pair grew.

♱⠀Y/N NAGI⠀that knew her brother wasn’t much of a people person, so he didn’t have many friends. so, she made sure to stick by him throughout school. even though she was in multiple sports, she dragged him along to practices and games just to get him out of the house. he hated it, but knew she was only doing it out of love so he abided by her.

♱⠀Y/N NAGI⠀who tried getting seishiro into basketball, mainly because it was the sport she loved, but also due to his height. the kid was amazing at it, but he didn’t have any interest in the game. the girl knew it was a stretch but at least she tried, so she just continued to let him drown himself in his game.

♱⠀Y/N NAGI⠀adored the fact that seishiro alas found someone who could push aside the fact that he was always playing video games, the girl treating reo like a second brother. anytime he tried getting seishiro to play soccer with him, it took both kids to ambush the boy before they forced him onto the field for a little. it was a drag, but she loved seeing him finally have someone other than herself care about him.

© SOPESTVR PRODUCTIONS 2023 ♱ please do not plagiarize or steal my works. all rights reserved.

#♱⠀—⠀sopestvr #♱⠀—⠀bluelock works #♱⠀—⠀anime navi #bluelock #blue lock #blue lock drabbles #blue lock imagines #blue lock headcanons #blue lock isagi #blue lock bachira #blue lock nagi #isagi yoichi #isagi imagines #bllk isagi #bachira meguru #bachira headcanons #bachira fluff #nagi seishiro #bllk nagi #nagi x y/n #nagi seishiro imagines

[atmilliways]

Wrong On The Money (55)

part 55 of 55 | 1784 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

It’s easy to decide on a plan of action this time, no nerd dice required. And Steve is ready, but he’s. . . . He’s nervous, okay?

The final chapter!

I know there was some excitement about a potential trip to NYC to visit Margaret, but because of the title it was always destined to end here. Please remember to insert your own ba-dum-tss sound effect at the punchline. Thanks for reading! ❤️

55.

The night before pulling the trigger on telling Dustin, Eddie takes his mind off it by suggesting they watch a baseball game with Wayne, and it’s . . . it’s good. Eddie clearly has very little idea of the finer points of the game, but he cuddles indulgently into Steve’s side and listens to their additions to the announcers’ commentary with good grace. When their beers or snacks run low he pops up to get the next round, letting them keep watching.

After the game, Steve loops an arm around him with a grin. “Hey, if I put up a hoop over the garage, would you play a pickup game with me sometime?”

Eddie hums, leaning into him and pretending to think about it. “Well, you played D&D with me, so . . . sure.”

“Yeah?” Steve can’t help his grin growing wider. They might not have many interests in common, but that doesn’t mean they can’t dip into each other's from time to time. 

“Yep.” Eddie turns, nudging the tips of their noses together. “It’ll be at your own risk, though. I am not coordinated enough for sports.”

“It’s true,” Wayne comments from his easy chair—making both of them jump a little, having forgotten he was in the room. “Thought he might grow out of that all-elbows and big feet stage at some point, but nah.”

Steve laughs, delighted by the novel feeling of family affectionately giving each other shit that is slowly becoming more familiar. (The closest he’s come to it before moving in here was Dustin teasing him for being vain about his hair.) This is good too, like a warm blanket enveloping him into being a part of something. “Don’t worry, I saw him in gym class. I know what I’m in for.”

“Oh, both of you can just—” Eddie wriggles free to flip both of them off while sticking his tongue out, then grabs Steve’s wrist to haul him up and towards the privacy of one of their rooms. 

It’s easy to decide on a plan of action this time, no nerd dice required. And Steve is ready, but he’s. . . .

He’s nervous, okay? 

He knows that he and Eddie don’t have all that much in common at a glance. They don’t like the same music—although Black Sabbath and Dio are growing on him, and Eddie is more flexible than he expected for someone who complains about “top forty shit” so often. They come from opposite sides of town and totally different upbringings. They’re the quintessential coiffed jock versus the ultimate scruffy nerd. Robin knows Steve’s weird side well enough not to question any of that, and she’d seen their chemistry well before Steve thought he might stand a chance, but does Dustin?

Maybe. Hopefully. Either way, Steve is ready for it to all be out in the open. 

“Ready for ice cream, buddy?” Steve calls as Dustin slides into the back seat, Eddie having already snagged shotgun privileges. He has, however, graciously stopped head banging and turned the radio down so they can all hear their own thoughts. 

Dustin leans forward between their seats with an unimpressed look. “Yeah. Why are you being weird? Why didn’t you tell me Eddie was c—Why are you wearing that?”

Eddie lets out an exaggerated sigh and wriggles out of the navy blue Melvald’s shirt he has on over a white tee, tossing it at Dustin’s head. “It’s called legal employment, Henderson. It’s something that some of us are forced to obtain by local law enforcement.”

“Hey! Your name tag chipped my tooth,” Dustin protests.

“No it didn’t,” Steve retorts, holding back a laugh.

“Well it could have.” 

“Yeah yeah, sad story. Now click it or I’ll kick it. . . . Meaning your ass. Out of the car.” He meets the teen’s eyes in the rear-view mirror and rolls his own at the pouty glare. “Seat belt, Henderson, jeez!”

“Oh my god you are so lame,” Dustin mutters, shaking his head, but he sits back and buckles his seat belt.

As soon as he hears the click, Steve puts the car in gear and glides out of the Henderson’s driveway. It’s not a long drive, just to the Dairy Queen a few minutes away. 

“He can be trained after all,” Eddie remarks, still fussing with his clothes to get his plain white t-shirt untucked from his remarkably unripped jeans. Steve catches a flash of his stomach amidst the struggle and has to remind himself to keep both eyes on the road, looking away with what he knows is a dumb smile on his face. “And to answer your question, dearest Dusty-Bun—

“Only Suzie gets to call me that. Who told you about that?”

“—I’m tagging along because, in honor of my first honest paycheck, I’m buying.”

“Didn't you used to work at that tire place?”

Eddie sighs, even more put upon than the first time, and casts Steve a look that speaks volume about tone. Still smiling, Steve responds with a what’re you gonna do shrug. His boyfriend reacts by snorting and sticking out his tongue at him.

“You’re getting the small cone, Dusty-Bun,” Eddie declares, slouching down in his seat and pouting theatrically at both of them. “And no chocolate sauce.”

Dustin rolls his eyes; Steve catches their epic journey in his rear-view. “Whatever,” he says, knowing that Eddie is full of shit and will let him order whatever he wants (within reason). “Anyway, I wasn’t even talking to you. Steve, why are you wearing this?” And he reaches around to pluck at Steve’s vest.

Which is not his Family Video vest, because he has today off. It’s the denim vest—a battle vest he has since learned, which seems both over-dramatic and weirdly fitting—that Eddie had thrown at him in the Upside Down.

It had been Eddie's idea to wear it today. The second he'd realized that it hadn't been lost somewhere in the stolen RV or in the Upside Down, he was clamoring to see it on Steve. (And then off of him again. That had been a good night.)

“Oh, you like it?” Steve asks innocently. He had tried to offer the vest back, after doing his best to get all the bloodstains out. Eddie's refusal had included an explanation of what giving such a heavily personalized article of metalhead garb to someone meant. (A very good night.)

Since Dustin is also familiar with its significance, they figured it would be a good lead-in. 

“Steve,” Dustin starts, in what Steve recognizes as his do you need to be told everything tone—then stops himself and cuts his gaze across to Eddie.

Eddie, still slouched but smirking now, makes an elaborate go right ahead gesture. 

Dustin’s eyes go wide as dinner plates. “Holy shit,” he breathes, looking back and forth between the two of them several times. “Really? Are you?!”

And even though Steve doesn’t have a bead on whether this is a good reaction or not, he lets himself borrow and coast on some of Eddie’s confidence. He puts on a matching smirk and says, “Yeah, man.”

It’s not that he expects Dustin to be disgusted or anything, it’s. . . . Well, he could. It’s possible. Probably not likely, but possible. 

There’s a pause while Dustin draws breath, and it feels both way longer and way shorter than it actually is. What if he doesn’t believe them, or doesn’t take it as seriously as he would’ve if Steve were introducing a new girlfriend?

“I knew it,” Dustin whoops, pumping a fist in victory. (Steve recognizes it, because he does that whenever he throws something in a trash can and sinks the shot. He gets a perplexed little rush from the recognition.) “I knew you two would get along if you just gave each other a chance!”

“Uh.” Eddie twists around in his seat to stare at the teen. He’d been so confident before about knowing how Dustin would take the news, but evidently he hadn’t expected him to say that, his jaw dropping in disbelief. “Are you . . . trying to call matchmaker here? Is that what’s happening?”

“Yeah, because I told you. I told both of you!”

“You did not call it,” Eddie says indignantly, and Steve would chime in to agree here but he’s kinda still busy driving the car. “You absolutely did not call my junk getting that friendly with his—”

“Woah woah woah, time out,” Steve interrupts, because screw being too busy driving, that is too much information. “Reel it back in, man.”

Eddie points at him, eyes still on Dustin, intent on making his point. “Is not what he said last night.”

Dustin makes a face. “Gross, you’re both like my older brothers, dude.”

“Well one of us is an in-law!” Eddie insists. 

Steve looks briefly skyward with a muttered, “Jesus H. Christ.”

But he can’t help but grin, because this is going well. He’s pretty sure Dustin would react the exact same way if it was him and Robin dating. (Which, huh. Just thinking about that is enough to make him want to make a face because that would be weird.)

It’s also going chaotically, which, yeah. Dustin is a dork and Eddie thrives on chaos, no big surprises there. He feels so fond of both of them in this moment, even though the actual content of the conversation is ridiculous. Everything is going to be fine.

The Upside Down is permanently locked away, there’s no more danger, Steve gets Eddie, and everything is going to be fine. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Dustin is saying, “I was right. Ugh, when will you guys finally admit that I’m always right on the money with this shit and just give me credit for your relationship? Give me a date if you have to, I’ll pencil it in on my mom’s Cats Galore calendar for future reference.”

For a second, Steve’s gaze meets Eddie’s. Maybe it’s the haughtiness of their younger friend’s tone; maybe it’s the mention of money on top of their ridiculous history with the stuff. Whatever it is, it’s enough to send them both into a laughing fit so intense that Steve is lucky the next turn-off is straight into the Dairy Queen parking lot.

Wayne thinks they’re good together. Robin is cooling down about what Eddie had done to be happy for Steve again. Dustin is fine with their relationship, even wants credit. . . . Those are the three out of four people in the world it would crush Steve the most to disappoint. 

Eddie’s warm brown eyes are warm and fixed on him as he turns the car off and plucks the keys from the ignition, and Steve is finally, for the first time since 1983, finally able to relax . . . just in time for celebratory ice cream. 

#steddie blackmail fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #found family feels #dustin henderson #steddie #steddie fic #my fanfic #stranger things

[sapphire-heart-tippy]

Why did I think taking a nap was a good idea, now I'm nauseous 😔👍

But what's GOOD is that I had a dream about Vanilla! We went to the park and had a little picnic. It was pretty hot and Farquaad was there. He was trying to get us to buy a box of shiny black hoop earrings but I said we spent our last paycheck trying to bail Dio out of prison (which was a lie)

Vanilla and I decided to play on the swings but they were suddenly made out of wet wood and they broke. Then it cut to us at an abandoned Walmart (why does this keep happening-). There was milk jugs all over the ground, and I said,"You know they have milk bags in Canada." And the last thing I heard Vanilla say before I woke up,

"Well next time go to sleep in Canada and see how that works out for you, pibs."

Wtf does "pibs" mean? 🤣

#tippy dreams

[theold-ultraviolence]

HC'S: Origin's of Eddie's music taste part II

🤘 continuation of this post 🤘

At the record store, he befriends this hippie looking lady with bell bottom jeans, big hoop earrings and an afro – who works there and had noticed Eddie looking all overjoyed but a little bit lost before.

She approached him and asked him about what he liked. With a huge grin on her face, the lady recommended he listen to Led Zeppelin’s ‘III’ (1970). 

Eddie was BLOWN AWAY with the straight-forward harshness of the guitars and the high-pitched growling of the opening track, ‘Immigrant Song’ that had him instantly headbanging, something he had never really felt like doing before! 

But his favorite album is ‘IV’ (1971) because it has more of a fantasy vibe to it, specifically the song The Battle of Evermore. 

He let his imagination run wild, thinking about wizards and princesses and magical lands. From that one also likes When The Levee Breaks because of the drums and obviously Stairway To Heaven is THE classic one of theirs and probably the one that really spurred his interest in playing the guitar because of the solo on that one. 

It’s after hearing Jimmy Page’s guitar that he begs his uncle to please please please can I learn how to play the guitar? Wayne is more than happy to make the extra effort to save up money for a second-hand guitar. 

Eddie is initially self taught but after Wayne saves up a little more money he’s able to enroll him in proper clases. He didn’t mind the dent it put on his pocket at all because he was relieved to see his nephew involved in a healthy hobby, further healing from having lived with his parents before. 

After Led Zeppelin is an instant hit, the lady at the record store immediately becomes his best friend. One day she slips him Black Sabbath’s first album because she felt it was a natural progression in style from Led Zeppelin. 

“See how you like this one” she had said with a cheeky grin because Eddie was instantly drawn to the dark imagery of the cover, scanning it with his big doe eyes. 

And just like that, after the title track, Eddie decides that this is his favorite band. 

Which later leads him to discover Dio and Rainbow (Dio, Sabbath and Rainbow are like his holy trinity). 

He obviously starts off with Sabbath’s 70’s albums and as time passes he keeps up with the band’s latest. 

Black Sabbath started up with Ozzy and when they released their album Heaven And Hell (1980) is when Dio replaced him. 

At first he was apprehensive about Ozzy being replaced but after the lady at the record store passed him a Rainbow album so he could check Dio’s vocals out, he was excited about what he’d bring to the table. 

They’ve changed vocalists through time but their eras with Ozzy and Dio are definitely his favorites, and he loves them both as solo acts too – goes without saying that he literally has Dio on his back at all times! <3

Black Sabbath songs I feel like he NAILS on the guitar himself are:  N.I.B., War Pigs, Paranoid, Iron Man, Into The Void, A National Acrobat, Killing Yourself to Live, Children of the Grave, Snowblind, Lord of This World, Heaven and Hell, Neon Knights and Keep It Warm. 

One time he shows up at the record store and shows his friend just how good he was getting on the guitar and the lady is nothing but brimming with happiness for Eddie and proud to have had some kind of influence on him. 

Ozzy is more of a spooky/dark/sinister vibe while Dio is more wizard-y/heroic/theatrical and those are the foundations of the kind of metal he likes as he grows up. 

He does listen to a little bit of everything but mainly I feel like overall he likes music to complement the rest of his interests and feel transported to those universes, like in his fantasy books such as Lord of The Rings and of course his D&D lore.

The music gives him intel into the lore of whatever character or storyline he conjures up in his head. 

Okay now onto the bands that he canonically likes: Mötorhead, Iron Maiden, Megadeth, Mercyful Fate, Judas Priest, Accept, W.A.S.P., and of course, Metallica. 

But I also feel like we need to add here: Scorpions, Van Halen, Mötley Crüe, Alice Cooper, Whitesnake and Quiet Riot

He also dabbles in punk, and likes: Sisters of Mercy, Bauhaus, Misfits , The Cramps and Siouxsie and the Banshees.

Obviously in the 80’s new wave was the thing and he might indulge in a couple of new wave bands but I feel like he leaned towards the weirder ones too, like Devo, Talking Heads, and Depeche Mode. 

Guilty pleasure is definitely Rod Stewart and Journey’s Eye of The Tiger lol. 

I feel like his first concert would’ve been at around 9 - 10 and it wouldn’t have been a band he liked as much, but he wanted to have the experience. Wayne went with him of course and since bigger bands mean more expensive tickets (also there isn’t much of a metal scene in Hawkins) they went to see Styx or something, over at Indianapolis. 

By the time he’s 13-14 and he starts making his own money doing part time jobs and also he grows more into his identity – experimenting with his style, letting his hair grow, dressing in all black and ripped jeans and overall becoming more confident – Wayne lets him go on his own to see whatever he likes. 

He goes to see Kiss because it was the closest date available to when Wayne gave him the green light to go. And afterwards, in the same year, he sees Scorpions. 

He’s completely enamored with the whole experience: being squished like a sardine amidst the packed crowd, the shared sweat, the adrenaline and the sensation of having the bass reverberate right inside your chest. It’s when he decided that his future was right there on a stage. 

MTV debuted in 1981 and at first he was excited for a channel dedicated to music alone, but afterwards the novelty wore off because they mostly played mainstream music and pop, but he knew that the songs he liked came up later in the evening. 

What he does love about MTV is catching Elvira’s Movie Macabre very late at night, and of course he has a crush on her like any other metalhead did at the time. 

He’s a bi king and I feel like his musical crushes would be David Bowie, the Wilson sisters from Heart, Billy Idol, Debbie Harry, Robert Plant from Led Zeppelin, Randy Rhoades (Ozzy Osbourne’s guitarist) Lita Ford and Stevie Nicks 

#eddie munson #headcanons #stranger things #my writing #fanfiction #wayne munson #eddie munson headcanons #joseph quinn

[cbcorrectorsans]

Cb! Corrector (Sans)

Primero que nada, hola soy @maclove54 y les presento a mi niño/niña Corrector. Ella es un Ciborg creado por Gaster para ayudar al subsuelo, por un accidente termina perdiéndose en el multiverso sin recuerdos de su propio Au.

No tiene alma, pero su propia programación le hace sentir con vida y conciencia. También tiene sus propios gustos, sueños y metas, aunque no es muy consciente de ello.

Aun si no lo parece, Corrector es amable y consciente en la mayoría de sus modos. Al principio se mantenía en anonimato puesto que no quería interferir con las historias de otros Au’s, pero al final decidió incluirse. También es paciente y tranquilo con los niños y con algunos Sans en general, casi como Toriel. Aunque también le gusta jugar con ellos a humanos vs. monstruos. Aveces es inconsciente del daño que puede hacer con sus afirmaciones y verdades, ya que para él no tienen nada de malo.

Nombre: Ciborg Corrector 5.0

Sobrenombre: Corrector

Rol: Corrector de código e información. (Futuro ayudante de creadores)

Alias: Cb

Cb! Corrector puede tomar la forma que desee de cualquier personaje del juego, pero su percepción de la realidad está dañada, entonces parece equivocarse y confundirse con todos los Au’s y agrega pequeños detalles no canon a sus formas. Son pequeños “bugs” que no puede remediar.

Un “bug” es como él llama a los errores, si encuentra uno siente la necesidad de corregirlo (si es uno muy grave lo borrará). Él encuentra estos “bugs” con la ayuda de sus ojos que vigilan cada universo en busca de ellos.

Los aros o “hoops” son estos grandes círculos con ojos que flotan a su alrededor, al igual que él puede cambiar de forma y hasta convertirse en ataques. También pueden hacerse pequeños y flotar alrededor de la cabeza de Corrector para más comodidad.

Datos Físicos:

Especie: Ciborg/Inteligencia Artificial/Robot(?

Género: Binario (Él/Ella)(She/He)

Para cada forma tiene una altura distinta:

Normal: 1.67 m (Casi lo mismo que su Gaster, pasándose por 2 cm)

Sans: 1.35 m (Un poco más alto que el Sans original.)

Niño: 1.27 m (Más pequeño en general, casi rozando la altura de Core)

Fue el prototipo número 5 y el resultado final de Gaster, con algunas configuraciones conforme se iba desarrollando. Desde que fue creada tuvo la tarea de corregir desastres y aprender sobre la tecnología humana, por eso Gaster le dio el apodo de Corrector. Su verdadero nombre aún es desconocido.

No tiene muchas emociones más que las básicas, estas se representan con algunos colores combinados y cada color tiene su significado:

Amarillo: Rest Mode (Modo Reposo) [Tranquilidad, Felicidad, Emocion]

Azul: Active Mode (Modo Activo) [Trabajo, Análisis, Decisión]

Rojo: Rage Mode (Modo Furia) [Ira, Desconfianza, Alerta]

Amarillo/Azul: Tristeza

Amarillo/Rojo: Incomodidad/Vergüenza

Rojo/Azul: Determinación

Error: Error

Amarillo/Rojo/Azul: Confusión

Tiene una más pero por ahora es desconocida.

Relaciones: Ink! Sans (Amigo), Error! Sans (Conocido amigable), Blueberry (Bug)

Enemigos: Core Frisk (Principios), Blueberry (Bug), Fresh! Sans (Bug)

Alineación: Bondad Neutral

La primera vez que conoció a Ink fue todo un mal entendido entre ellos y Corrector estaba asustado de lo que su batalla con el guardián ocasionaría en la historia de Ink. En esa misma batalla conoció a Error y este noto cómo está “abominación” siempre mantenía una distancia para respetar su haphephobia. A Blue lo conoció hace 5 años, y desde entonces siempre lo persigue para destruirlo y cada versión de él, aunque se rindió después de darse cuenta de que el Fandom lo apreciaba. También siente un cierto temor a cualquier Gaster con quien se cruce, tanto porque la información canon es prácticamente inexistente, como por extrañas sensaciones que produce en su ser/sistema. Con GZ! Sans es una sensación algo más complicada. A Core Frisk la conoció poco después de que terminó en el multiverso, tuvieron una pequeña pelea que Corrector perdió y huyó. Con Fresh no se lleva ni bien ni mal, el saber que es un parásito lo hace incomodar pero al ser algo canon no puede hacer nada.

Armas: Gaster Blasters, Aros de Ataque, Ojos de le verdad, Cadenas, Miss

Habilidades: Cabiaformas, Teletransportación, Tiene un compartimento en su pecho donde guarda los códigos que arreglará, algunos pueden confundirse con esto y piensa que los borra de la existencia.

Datos Biológicos:

Edad: 7 años

Estado: Vivo/Viva

Residencia: Sin lugar fijo

Ocupación: Corrector de Errores Informáticos

Día de Nacimiento: 30 de Abril de 20XX

Lugar de Nacimiento: CorrectorTale

Datos de batalla:

LV: 5

HP: 777

AT: 555

DF: 555

ACT’s: Check, Escapar, Jugar, Hacer Amigo, Confiar

Ahora sí, considero que esto es suficiente para una presentación. La caja de preguntas está abierta, siéntanse libres de preguntarle cosas y así poco a poco construir su historia.

Gracias por su atención y nos leemos luego!

#Undertale #Correctortale #Cb! Corrector Sans #Cb #Corrector #corrector sans #sans #asriel #chara #frisk #Gaster #g!sans #g sans #blueberry #blue sans #swap sans #echotale #echo sans

[spanishbuho]

despechá - rosalía | vocabulary

llamar: to call olvidar: to forget noche: night despechá = despechada: scorned alocada: crazy dios: god disco: disco falda: skirt aros: hoop earrings cadena: chain jefa (femenine): boss trabajar: to work faena: work problema: problem fácil: easy decir: to say

Baby, no me llame'

*when you put a ' at the end of a verb, it means that there is an unpronounced s. instead of saying "llames" in this case it is saying "llame".

baby: baby (bebé in spanish) no: no me: me llame' = llames: to call

baby, no me llame': baby, do not call me

Ella lo baila (yeh), ella me enseña (yeh)

ella: she, her (i am not gonna explain "lo" in this case cuz it is kinda high level of spanish. i dont wanna mess you up) bailar: to dance me: me enseñar: to teach

ella lo baila, ella me enseña: she dances, she teaches me*

*in this case it means the way the dances the song at the disco it is in an unique way. so, she teaches her (rosalía) how to do it.

La noche es larga (eh), la noche está buena (eh)

la: femenine article that means "the" in english noche: night es: to be larga: long está: to be buena: good, nice

la noche es larga, la noche está buena: the night is long, the night it's good

#rosalia #rosalía #motomami #despecha #despechá #song #vocabulary #studyblr #study spanish #spanish vocabulary #español #aprender español #music #learn music

[goldentemplariumcrow]

Gotham Knights verse headcanon(s):

I like to think that in my Gotham Knights crossover verse, Dio patrolled the streets of Gotham as much as the knights, but his reasons had less to do with the city and became quite personal to him on the long run.

Since I headcanon the Cult Of Kosmos, the secret society that centuries later would become the Templar Order, had an interest in finding and securing not only objects, but sites that had a direct connection to the Precursors (Isu Civilization), they certainly developed an interest on Gotham City at some point, as it lies over a Lazarus Pit, which, in my headcanon, could be an Isu creation or aftermath of their usage of the land.

And, in true Templar fashion, they held the land's control for some good centuries until it became too much of a hassle to maintain it.

They dug underground tunnels to find the Lazarus Pit, paid and created whole buildings in the city, placed members of the organization in positions of power, dominated parts of the commerce and health care etc; they literally integrated themselves into the city and its people like they always do, and so did their war against the Brotherhood.

When their war became too much and the levels of violence unbearable, instead of staying and fixing the city, they decided to come up with an agreement. Neither the Templar Order or the Brotherhood would take control over the territory, there would be no fighting between the two factions in it even if the members of both sides came to cross paths in it.

This, however, didn't sit well with all the members related to the Templar Order at the time. Leaving the territory they fought so much to gain wasn't an option to some of the members and they wouldn't have it in any way, so they broke up with the Templars and built their own society. Thus, the first steps into the creation of the Court Of Owls were taken.

For once, the Templars didn't object to the break of trust, but they also abstained themselves from all support they once gave to the city and its people, only checking what went on from a safe distance every now and then, but never taking part in any decision ever again. The only thing that was left from their part in the city were the training grounds and fighting rings they used in order to select newer agents for their cause — the city provides a good amount of anomalies that can be used in the training of new Black Cross agents, which is their special ops force.

Of course, over the centuries Court and Templars grew apart to a point where they don't even acknowledge the other side, but they do use one another by calling favors when necessary. And that's where Dio can go from being neutral to actually taking the Court's actions as personal.

The use of the Lazarus Pit to create Talons was never something new to Dio, he's a History buff and his inate abilities don't allow him to be ignorant of the Court's actions. However, there's a huge difference between using Court's own members into the experiments to create new Talons and using Initiates (Templar members who're the lowest in their rankings) into it. And that's something I headcanon the Court Of Owls does in the game. They collect the corpses of Initiates that died during the trials to become a Black Cross as well as the finalists of the challenges, and turns them into Talons. That's a betrayal of trust towards the Templar Order and that's something Dio can use to justify going murder-happy on the Court and on the Templars that fell to their corruption and aid their plans.

The reasons this can be personal to Dio comes from his life experience, having been placed in a Lazarus Pit himself and staying there for seven years while his body recovered and adapted to its new conditions when his Isu genes awakened, so he knows it's hell to go through it; then, the fact that he's highly aware what's like to be an Initiate, the amount of loops and hoops one has to go around and deal with when they're fighting for any recognition, and how it weighs on the head and can make one more susceptable to corruption in order to have an easier way up; and his Isu side that finds it disgusting that such an amazing gift left by Those Who Came Before is being used for petty and selfish purposes, instead to better the lives of those in Gotham City and maybe even other cities around, it's used to create monster soldiers that scare the people — this last one makes Dio want to snap and show what real horror is, as he knows some of his abilities and, depending on the situation, has no qualms about tapping into it.

So, when Dio starts to investigate the ongoing amount of shit that's under the rug and finds corrupted Templars and the equivalent of selling children and young teens to the Court Of Owls, he takes it as an affront to the Templar Order itself, and as he's a representative and executioner of them, this is his cue to leave the neutrality behind and stain his hands in blood. That's when Dio turns from spooking and pranking people here and there to silently killing and the corpses vanishing to never be found.

Dio came to the city to investigate the disappearance of some promising talents, and got dragged into what he describes inside his head as a side war, and in a war he doesn't think of the people on the way, only to complete his mission and survive. If in order to stay alive and do what's expected from him he needs to kill a few people, he has no problems in doing so.

#》headcanons:dionisus #》verse:gotham knights

[syre-stane16]

So, I may be overthinking this...

I noticed a small pattern with the names of the Joestar family, at least upto part 6.

Jonathan Joestar, the first JoJo. Simple, JOnathan JOestar. hamon user.

Joseph Joestar, the next JoJo, again nothing to write home about, a hamon user

Jotaro Kujo, his part introduces the concept of stands and sets him apart from the joestars by not using hamon.

his last name is different from his predecessors but you can still see where he got the JoJo nickname. [JOtaro kuJO]

Here's where it gets interesting...

Josuke Higaskata, his name takes a couple loops to jump through to give him the nickname 'JoJo'. His first name, JOsuke connects him with the family, but his last name also seperates him as product of an extramarital affair.

Giorno Giovanna, his nickname is GioGio, which sounds similar to the JoJo nickname passed down by his technical father, but his name also connects him to his other father [gIOgIO/gIOrno gIOvanna: dIO].

His name is different from the other JoJo's or DIO ,but just similar enough to make the connection.

Jolyne Cujoh, the last JoJo from the first universe, not a product of an affair,or any complicated ties to the family, she's just Jotaro's daughter, so barly any hoops jump through to make the connection.

JOlyne cuJOh, has an altered last name from her father, reflecting on both their attemps to distance themselves from each other, but you can still look at her name an tell, 'She's connected to Jotaro'.

You can still easily give her the nickname, and she still gets caught up in her family's drama.

Then again, i may be looking into it too much.

#jjba #jojo's bizzarre adventure #jojo kimyou na bouken #jonathan joestar #joseph joestar #jotaro kujo #josuke higashitaka #giorno giovanna #jolyne cujoh #jojo #dio #over analyzing

[goodkwuestion]

So I have a question. Since you're working in the medical field have you ever thought about writing a Hospital!AU for Gallavich where they are doctors or nurses or interns?

That has never once crossed my mind. The last time I wrote something even vaguely medical was when I was pre-med and in a completely different fandom. I'm pretty convinced that clinicians who write medical fiction, especially romance, are either retired or somehow have enough distance from medicine to appreciate the entertainment value of it again.

Medicine is just not sexy right now. I crawl home from work and I don't want to think about it again until my phone inevitably rings two hours later. Plus my specialty is Communicable Disease--the least sexy of the unsexy. The horrors mine eyes have seen.

When Covid and Monkey Pox aren't hogging the stage, HIV and related STIs are the long running stars of my professional show. There's a reason all my fics promote condom usage until all the necessary hoops have been jumped through (normalize safe and sane sex in fics, everybody).

I'm sure sexy, inspiring stuff is happening somewhere, but I have yet to see it. You want to know the "sexiest" thing to happen to me because of my job in recent memory?

Picture this: Sicily, 1845 (no, not really)

Me (dead asleep at 5am when my phone rings): snxlor? Patient (nervous but determined): Heyyyy, Doc, it's Patient X! Hope I didn't wake you! Me (face down in pillow, still dead): snuffleprff? Pt: Sooo, I was wondering if it was okay to maybe...do it again? Me (struggling to remember patient and circumstances): Hmm? Pt: Ahem, you know...you said to wait until everything had cleared up, and Joe Grind and I were wondering... Me (finally catching on): Is he there right now? Pt: Yes, he's in the far corner of the room, crossing his legs. Me: Am I on speaker? (No, Doc) You feel comfortable having this convo with him there? (Yes) Do you want and feel ready to have sex too? (Yes [horny radiation causes my phone to burn in my hand]) *sigh* Have you completed your entire course of treatment? All the pills, creams, pessaries, what have you? (Yes!) Have all your symptoms cleared? (Yes!!!) Are you sure? Any itching, burning, rash, ulcers, unusual discharge etc. etc.? (Omg, no already!) He had received his prophylactic treatment and did his blood tests, right? (YES!!!) ... ... ... Fine, vaya con dios. Pt: (happy squeal, sound of dude cartwheeling across the room before phone abruptly goes dead). Me (tries to sleep only for my alarm to go off): %$*&#@!!!!

Tl,dr: Nahhhh...

#I'm not in the headspace for it #writing #good question #asks #maybe someday? #maybe if I was a surgeon it would be sexy

[passionesolja]

Dawg, Dio Brando LOVED the 80s.

This Victorian English vampire man never once is like “I miss my old era everyone had more class🙄” like nah, dude out here with golden hoop ear rings on in both ears. That wasn’t the move in the 1800s.

You know he wanted them bitches for years too like he was In Victorian England jealous as a mf of all the bad bitches who got to wear them

He wasn’t petrified by none of the societal changes. Nah dawg said “damn we can just have sex with whatever woman wants us? No courtship or marriage 😨” and he ended up having at least 4 baby mamas.

This man was living his best life in the 80s

#dio brando #jojo’s bizarre adventure #jjba #jojo no kimyo na boken kin #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jjba part 1 #jojo part 1 #stardust crusaders #jjba stardust crusaders #jjba part 3 #jojo part 3 #jjba phantom blood #phantom blood

[disconinjacircus]

I refuse to like or follow anything and the algorithm is straining itself to try to figure out what will catch my attention. It’s mostly given up on unique things and has gone straight to any and all content topical to what I’ve posted. It’s fun to watch it jump through hoops. Sad, little, futile hoops. The joke’s on you, Algorithm, thinking you could find me out but it was me, Dio!

#meta post #voice of the blogger #jojo's bizarre adventure #but it was me #Dio #maybe a shitpost #squint hard and tilt your head

[lifeaschoi]

SOTD.! Ft. DIOS + SIGNAL | .000118

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● Head | Genus | Strange

● Body | eBody | Reborn

● Skin | PF | Yasmin

● Hair | CAMO | Ella Locs

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● Top | #DIOS | Yasmeen Belt Top

● Bottoms | #DIOS | Yasmeen Mini

● Shoes | SIGNAL | Kiss Me Heels

● Accessories | Wareta | Koi Shades | LaGyo | Chloe Necklace | POM | Delilah Hoops | #DIOS | Yasmeen Waist Belt + Gloves | Majesty | Cuban Link Anklet

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● Details