#my Waffle House index

[goldkirk]

I opened Pinterest for the first time in months.

That made me realize a lot about how bad I was actually doing and how much of a Waffle House Index use of Pinterest is for adult me, apparently.

I hadn’t realized it had grown that foundational to me in a healthy-brain-exercise-and-hobby-joy way. Nice to know moving forward! It’s another sign I can keep track of and use to spot correlation/indicator patterns earlier my behavior.

I love this kind of thing, it makes me so excited!

#personal data hacking is my passion #someday I’ll tell a story about the most notable times I tracked things or hacked my own mental processes from childhood to now #including the fear of spiders and bed wetting and behavior changes and posture and heart rate and cursive and putting kitchen items and #trash away as soon as I’m finished using them instead of never ever or ages and ages later #I’m so proud of that #you have to give it time and still commit. chaining thoughts and routines and behaviors really works #we are not separate brains and bodies and external environments #anyway I’m gonna go haha I used up he last of my energy burst on Discord and here and I need to go rest and lie on the floor and probly doze #love you all be back soon bye mwah! #add to journal #trauma evolution #my Waffle House index #this is going to be a fun new tag I’m so going to have fun with this and I bet it’ll be a helpful example reference for other people too #more than just for future me! #so excited so proud of myself so happy so grateful for hope about me really trusting that my ability and my behavior and my performance #are able to and going to yes keep getting better #long many-milestone path-journeys of potential #like when I was a little 6-7 year old kid-team athlete looking ahead at a concept of a future with me over time getting #stronger and cleverer and faster and slicker and calmer and even happier and more and more capable and able to accomplish! #a gift. all this time I didn’t think I’d have and have been living anyway is such a gift. #knowing that I truly have future time to grow and explore and change and improve in even though I still can’t FEEL or IMAGINE that future #time yet. also a gift. #the time I will one day realize I can imagine a future and imagine myself alive? will be a gift. #breath is a gift. experiencing life is a gift. other life is a gift. rhythm is a gift. motion is a gift. awake is a gift. color is a gift. #such a great expanse. all of it new. all of it eternal. all of it me. all of it nothing I’ve ever known before. all of it all of it #all of it. gifts. #gonna go have floor time now. this would be such a nice time to re-re-regain my ability to cry! #mwah I love you future me. take care of your hand and thank u for writing all this down 💛 #hey little star whatcha gonna queue? #my poetry

[deadlifts-and-deadlines]

That’s me standing on the snow 🤣 We have about a 1/10th of an inch of ice covering everything and it’s gonna keep doing this all day. Something tells me driving to the gym is gonna be a no this morning; they already shut down the freeway due to semis wrecking.

#I wish we had waffle houses here so I could know how truly bad it is #love me a good Waffle House index #tbh I thought that was a joke until my friend who works for FEMA was like no no we actually use that to gage the severity of disasters

[spirirsstuff]

connor goes to waffle house is gonna be my next shitpost fic yall better watch out my pothead be going to do some illegal things

he won’t get charged tho dont worry but hes totally going to commit like at least two crimes

including the most heinous of them all:

jaywalking

#randomrambles #i got this idea while i was at waffle house btw #i wasn’t doing any crazy stuff there i just got a waffle and some hashbrowns and informed my mom about the waffle house index #it’s a real thing look it up!

[brailsthesmolgurl]

Delirious

No matter how much you had offered your heart and arms to him, you were never his. And he was never yours.

Another oneshot requested by my angsty babies, I am glad you chose Rafayel. Yes, the writer you had wished for is back. Hang on tight to your seats baby gurl, this one gonna be hard to swallow.

Warnings: Angst, no comfort. Make your eyes bleed. Character death. Descriptive Mentions of dark topics so if ur sensitive please refrain.

Artwork is not mine, please support the original artwork!

Ding Dong. Ding Dong. Ding Dong. dINg dOng. DiNg dOnG.

You slammed your door opened and the 183cm drama queen stands in your doorway, head hung low, face drooped towards the floor. If he is not made of solid muscle and bones, you would be watching him melting right into the floor. Sighing, you stood aside and let him in, not even bothering to ask him a single question. You sort of having a gist on what had happened.

"Here, soup for you." He replied solemnly, feet carrying him lazily across the living room and to your kitchen. He brought soup this time, must be something big. Him bringing a souvenir over also means he would probably be staying the night. Not that you guys are in a relationship or anything, but 'complicated' is the right term for the both of you as of this stage.

The chair creaked under his weight as he took a seat on the wooden chair slotted at your dining table. "Rafayel." You grabbed a tissue box and sat down on the opposite end, a good necessity whenever he drops by your house unannounced. His hunched over form under the harsh lighting of your dining room's light unexpectedly painted a blob of shadow on your table. You reached your hand out this time, finger tapped on the wooden table just a few centimeters away from his hand. "Rafayel, are you okay?"

"She broke up with me." His reply was short. No details, no whining, no accusations, but just one sentence. This is an untouched territory for you. Most of the time, he would pressed on the doorbell nonstop until you slam open the door and his lips would not shut off till he was done venting. There were a couple of times he did came in looking like a dreaded fish, but the smell of alcohol would be the perfume of his. Today, however, no alcohol smell and no usual harangues.

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Few days passed, till few weeks, then few months after. For such a while, Rafayel had been hanging out more frequently with you, bringing you to the most random places to hang out such as going to a bowling alley just to get their waffles because he claims he likes to watch people roll balls but he also likes the waffles there. A trip to the market only to buy crabs and releasing them into the backyard to watch which one could run the fastest then the winner shall be rewarded as dinner on the dining table.

He had never been weirder than ever, but maybe this is his way of coping and who are you to judge? You had never been in love. But reading through romance books and watching all of the romantic shows, when love comes to your mind, Rafayel comes to your mind. You thought, maybe you do love him?

"Get out." Your words were final. Index finger sliced through the air and pointed straight towards your front door. Your cheeks glistened under the reflecting light casted by the television that was playing a teen romance flick. But no attention was spared for the movie anymore. "Rafayel. GET. OUT."

"What do you mean?" Eyebrows sewn together, eyeing your expression that spelled hurt. He was confused about your sudden burst of anger. "All I did was talk about the movie. And you got mad at me all of a sudden."

"You did not talk about the movie. All you did, was compared me to her, with the context of the movie." Your nostrils flared, tears stinging at the back of your eyes as if you had inhaled poison. Your throat and chest tightening further the more you held your tears in. "You lied to me. You said you got over her." Your arm fell to your sides, voice feeble. "But, why do you always find the need to compare me to her?"

"Oh spare me, I just went through a breakup, I could use the space to let loose, can't I?" His ignorance egged you on, seeing how indifferent he is about this situation. "Furthermore, I could use the---"

"And you think it's okay to play with my feelings?!" You belted, eyes welled up with tears, blurring your vision. You stepped up to him, hands pointed towards his face this time and you seethed in anger. "You, came here everytime, when she broke your heart. And out of everytime, I stayed. I waited." Your voice started cracking. "I was there for you when you had nobody else. And I picked you up when you thought you could not live without her anymore."

"Well, you could have just left if you---" He chipped in and you slapped him across his face with your palm. Although your hands are small, but it packed enough of a force to cause his cheek to ache, an uncomfortable throbbing pain following afterwards. He left his head tilted to the side, taking in the reality of what had happened. He just got slapped by a girl. Never in his life, he thought he would do something so outrageous that he would get slapped across the face. Guess he just broke his streak of not getting slapped by women.

"I WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU, CAN'T YOU TELL?!" You withdrew your hands and slid onto the floor, full on sobbing as you hugged onto your body to gain warmth for yourself. All of the blood had rushed up to your head which explains why you could not feel your legs anymore, hence the position on the floor. You desperately hoped Rafayel would grab you right now, and hug you tight within his arms.

You heard hurried shuffles, sound of keys jangling and a soft thud next to you. Those noises not tending to your curiosity at all. "I am sorry." His reply was bland, numb even. A sentence for remorse, also a sentence for a goodbye. The doors closed behind you and you were left alone, a forlorn soul basked within the lights emitted from the romance show. Silent sobs overheard by the moon that was peeking in through the windows of your sky roof.

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"Rafayel!" Thomas burst in the front doors, scurrying towards Rafayel's room at full speed after spotting the empty canvas sitting at the living room. Slamming the door that leads to Rafayel's room, the artist was sprawled out on the bed, his room so cold that Thomas could have just witnessed the North Pole without having to be there. The floor was surrounded in trash, papers crumpled up, pencils of all kinds used for sketching strewn across the floor. One may call it an organised mess, but Thomas calls this artist block.

"How long have you been in this room?!" Thomas shook Rafayel's shoulders to wake him up. "Your room is as cold as the cold storage that you use to store your seafood!" Thomas wasted no time in having to collect the pieces of papers and pencils on the floor, arranging them in his hand. "Why are you not done with---"

His nag came to a halt when Rafayel had sat up straight, back hunched over and eye bags the only colour present on his pale features. "What do you want?" Even his voice sounds hoarse, like a teen boy cycling through the age of puberty. "I do not wish to be disturbed."

"Your calls, as usual, went unanswered for the past few days so I helped myself by going over to ask y/n about your whereabouts because I thought you were staying with her pretty often these days." Placing the items onto the artist's white desk, Thomas turned to study his expression, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I know that look from somewhere." He squinted his eyes, studying him even further. "You had that same look when you caught your ex cheating on you that night." Thomas was referring to the girl that came before you. The one that had broke Rafayel's fragile heart. "Funny, now that I think of it, y/n's not doing any better than you."

Coming to realisation, the light bulb in Thomas' head flipped the switch. "Did anything happened to the both of you?"

"Did she asked anything about me?" Rafayel answered his question with another question. Eyes finally slanted upwards to face the manager of his. He just wanted to hear something, at least something to give him a reason to find her. He felt guilty, remorseful even for putting his burdens onto her. Leaving her all alone, drowning her in her own agony that day was the worse thing he could ever do to someone who had only ever been kind to him. And it took him three days to figure that out in his fish brain.

"No, she just asked me to hand you this." The older man reached into the pocket of his blazer, fishing a pink note out of his pocket and he handed it to Rafayel. The paper a little wrinkled, but the contents of it are a mark of your handwriting.

//𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝐼 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝒹.// Your cursive writing always a form of art to his eyes. A small, dainty note was all that takes for her to personally pass on the will to him. Rafayel stared at the note for a good minute, the wind coming out of the air-conditioner turning Thomas into a popsicle but filling the silence.

"I have to go." Rafayel uttered, hoisting himself out of the bed in one go and he threw on his dark pistachio green open collared shirt. The one you always quipped about how healthy his skin tone looks in it but with him constantly bantering that the green was a direct insult to his hair and eye colour. Just for this time, he would smother his ego, put on your favourite outfit, and head over to find you.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

The keys he held onto, the same set of extra keys you had entrusted him with, slotted into the keyhole and turning it clockwise, a 'clack' could be heard and he opened the door with the twist of the copper-painted doorknob. The balcony's sliding door remained opened, the sheer white curtains danced to the rhythm of the wind. The lights in your house were dimly lit, providing Rafayel with just enough lighting to navigate himself towards your room.

At this timing, in the middle of the night, he tiptoed through your wooden floors, afraid even the smallest of creaks would give you the spooks. He twisted the doorknob to your door but it jammed halfway. Trying again, with a bit more exerted force this time, the door remained unbudgable. "Y/N...?" He called out for your name, using his knuckle to give a light knock on your door. "It's me Rafayel. Can we talk?"

He was met with a deafening silence. Of course you would not want him to be anywhere near you, be it to hear him apologise for his stupidity or for him to comfort you within his arms. He bet you could care less about him given the last stunt he had pulled on you. He grappled for his phone, pulling out of his pant's back pocket and he turned on the screen, the light on his phone screen puts the dim lightings to shame.

He scrolled through his phone book till he stopped at your name, a heart symbol edited in next to your name. It was not just a stunt for him to catch your attention, the heart emoji has always been there, but after you had taken him in and allowed him to stay with you for a couple of weeks, the heart started making more sense to him, but poor Rafayel couldn’t distinguish what is love and what is bare attraction. If he could get to talk to you this time, then maybe the heart would mean the world to him. Maybe, maybe this time, he will not mess his speech up and break your heart again.

The phone was set to dial mode and he pressed onto the green call button, ready to receive shoutings from the other side of the room. Your ringtone rang, the stupid song for the Toothless Meme played on rewind. Did you slept a bit too well maybe? He called again, and the same scenario happened.

His heart was hit with a sudden pang of fear. You had always been a light sleeper and noticing the obnoxiously loud ringtone not even waking you up for the slightest bit, he decided to take a step back and bust down the door with his shoulder. Luckily, just with one hard nudge of his broad shoulders, the door dislodged itself.

So does his heart. Your whole room was thrashed, filled with the pink notes that you had given to Thomas earlier. Some were torn, some were sheathed, some had scribbles all over it, all of the notes littered with handwritten notes beyond his comprehension. Rafayel watched you, held up vertically, legs far from touching the ground, a noose was the only thing connecting you towards the ceiling. "Y/N!" He ran up to you and grabbed you, his lanky legs kicking all of the notes out of his way. "Y/N!"

A short burst of flames from his fingers burnt the noose and you fell to the floor. Your face a shade match to the moon that was sitting outside. Rafayel's hands fumbled with his phone, calling the emergency hotline as soon as he could. Strings of curses coming out of his mouth afterwards when he asked for help to be deployed to your location as soon as possible.

While awaiting for the ambulance, Rafayel did CPR, or at least what he could remember from the lesson he had taken years ago. Pumping steadily to a rhythm, blowing air through your mouth to hopefully deliver air to your lungs. The sirens of the ambulances huddled outside of your condominium, the blue and red lights adding on a speck of neon to the monotonous night.

"Stay with me please. Please stay with me y/n." Rafayel held you in his arms, your ice cold skin prickled against his warmth. His tears fell down his cheeks and continued its trail down your already tear-stricken face. He never thought his ruse would cause you this much damage. He thought that you could be the end to his delirium, and the start to his new reality.

The paramedics that arrived on the scene stood aimlessly at the door frame, watching the broken man in front of them, amidst the thrashed room, holding onto a lifeless body of a woman who seemingly cried herself to death.

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Angsty af, this piece is part and partial of my experience as I had once struggled with my mental health before, and it was also due to a shitty ex. But I am doing much better now, and writing this brings back those shitty feels that I used to have, but also reminded me of how much more happier and stronger I am now, and that I am not choosing death because of my ex! :)

But if any of you, do have issues with mental health, please do seek for reliable help. As cliche as it sounds, life is not at all bad if you have people that are supportive of your recovery journey. If you needed someone to rant to, my dms are always open <3.

I do not wish harm for any of my readers, and I want you guys to know that just as much as ur supporting my works, I want to be there to support you if you have any hardships in life as well. Just know that you are loved, and I love you <3.

Sincerely, Brails.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel sfw #rafayel angst

[alocon]

Incredibly Irresistible [4] - Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

written by alocon

Summary: Despite all hope, Lando never lost his feelings for his best friend's twin sister. However, he still hadn't acted on it. Well, that was until the party, which led you two into a long-term secret relationship

Warnings and Tropes: Fluff, part 4

[Part One Here] [Part Two Here] [Part Three Here] [Masterlist]

Irresistible - LN4 x Fem!Reader

After the night that Max found out, you realised that there wasn't really anyone else who you worried about finding out so you decided to be a lot less secret about it, especially in the family scene. Being invited to a family dinner was the perfect opportunity to tell people who you are dating, you decided. When you got the call from your mother, you asked.

“Oh wait I do have a question,” you had said when she asked if there was anything else you wanted to know. It was common knowledge that you could bring your partners to dinner, seeing as Max brought P often.

“Alright, sweetheart, what is it?” Your mother responded, curious as you never usually had any questions.

You looked at Lando who was sat on the bed with you, nervously playing with your hand. You had told him about your family dinners before, and he said that he would, of course, be interested in coming if the opportunity was there. “I've been in a relationship with someone for about a year and a half. Would I be able to bring him?”

“Absolutely, you can. A year and a half, darling, why didn't you say anything before?”

“You know what Max gets like, right? How he's very overprotective.” She hummed in agreement for you to continue. “Well, he'd get like that… but maybe a little worse than usual.”

Lando giggled, whispering under his breath “mhm, a little.”

You chuckled before hearing your mother excitedly say “is that Lando? Can I say hi to him?” You watched as Lando quickly leant over to take the phone from your hand as you passed it to him, beginning to talk to your mother.

“Yes, Mrs. Fewtrell. I'm great thank you, how are you?... I have met her boyfriend, he's very nice. Quite an attractive man too if I do say so myself.” You could only hear one side of the conversation but you rolled your eyes at the cockiness as he winked at you. “I'd like to think so, yes. From what I've seen, he really is in love with your daughter.” He grinned at you, blowing you a kiss. “Ah, I'm not sure if I'll be able to attend the dinner, I'll have to check, but I'm pretty sure I might be having dinner with my girlfriend's family that day. Yes ma'am. Well I'm sure you'll see me soon, don't worry. I miss you too. Goodbye.”

He passed the phone back to you, grinning ear to ear.

So that's how you ended up sat in your UK house, getting ready for family dinner with your boyfriend, who was definitely freaking out about making a good impression despite knowing that your entire family absolutely adored him.

“Yes but what if I mess up or they're disappointed that you're dating me or-” you cut him off with a kiss, getting slightly fed up with his waffling. He kissed back and you felt him relax slightly in your embrace.

Pulling away from the kiss, you placed your forehead to his. “Lan, try your best not to worry. You know they already like you.”

He nodded softly. “I know I know. I just don't want them to react how Max did.”

“Well, let's hope they don't. Ready to go?” He said yes, grabbing his phone and keys.

The drive was silent, Lando having been overthrowing quietly, which was evident by the way his index finger tapped against your knee as his hand ranted on your thigh whilst he drove. You placed your hand on top of his and he smiled gratefully as he finished parking.

Turning to you, he smiled softly, the nerves still very evident in his face. “I really hope this goes well.”

“Don't worry. They love you already.”

“Not as much as you do, I hope,” he said with a chuckle.

You rolled your eyes as you both started walking up the driveway towards the door. “Who knows. Maybe that's why Max was so pissed.” You heard the oh so familiar giggle leave his lips as you knocked on the door. 

It didn't take your mother long to open the door. “Hi sweetie, I've missed you!” She instantly hugged you and then pulled away, looking at Lando. “Lando? I thought you couldn't come. And Where's your boyfriend? Did you two split up?”

Lando spoke up before you could. “Actually, I remember saying that I was having dinner with my girlfriend's family…”

“Exactly. So why are you?” She paused mid sentence, looking between the two and gasping. “Oh my god. Wait. You two are together?” You nodded, Lando grabbing your hand nervously before a squeal could be heard and you were both pulled into a hug. “Come on in, you two.”

You walked into the house and to the dining room, seeing Lando look a lot calmer as people's eyes lit up once they saw him. Well, except Max. Max was avoiding your gaze for now. You greeted P with a hug and everyone except her and Max seemed a little surprised at the two of you being together. Your older brother, Sam, made a joke about not having to threaten your boyfriend, at least, because he had been around long enough to know the threats. That made Lando relax the most.

“So,” your dad said, looking between the two of you as you sat together on one side of the table together. “How long has this been going on?”

“Since July 2023.”

“A year and a half?” Your older brother said, looking at you. You nodded. “Why didn't you tell us?”

“Because I knew that if it got back to Max through someone who wasn't us, he wouldn't be happy. I mean he wasn't happy anyway but what can you do?”

“I would be happier if you weren't sleeping with my best friend.”

“I didn't complain that you started dating P.”

“Right, let's not. Max, remember what I said about being on your best behaviour, yes?” Max nodded in response to your mother as she turned her attention to another topic that wasn't Max's distaste. “Why did you decide to tell us now?”

“Max found out and we realised it was better to be honest. I'm sorry we didn't tell you guys. We hadn't even told my family until yesterday, to be honest. We had dinner with them and that's how they found out.”

“No problem. I think we're all just glad it finally happened. It took longer than me and your mother thought, that's for sure.”

You looked at your boyfriend, and then back to your parents. “What do you mean?”

“Oh please.” Your dad chuckled softly. “You two have been head over heels for one another since you were like 13. Especially Lando.”

Lando coughed slightly, looking away from your gaze which shot straight towards him. “13?”

“Yeah,” your mother was next to speak up. “It was like, you know how some girls have crushes on their best friend's older brothers? It was like that but Max's older sister instead.”

“She is barely older.” Max finally spoke up in the conversation.

“Still older. 3 hours is 3 hours.”

“Anyways. I'm pretty sure that boy fell in love with you the first time he met you. I remember overhearing him asking a bunch of questions about you when I walked past his door.”

You laughed. “I think I was the same about him, to be honest.”

Lando looked at you, seeing your eyes already on him. “Really?” You nodded, causing him to grin, almost slightly shyly as he squeezed your hand. 

“I honestly never thought I'd see this day. Mum, Dad, Max, I believe you owe me £20.”

You looked at Sam, shock on your face. “You made a bet on us?”

“We did,” your dad responded. “Max's vote was never so I think he might be a little biassed.”

 Your family ended up loving the fact that Lando and you were together, just as you had suspected. Once you both offered to wash up together, Lando had made a comment about you being right. You talked about how glad you were that Max didn't make any snarky comments about you two, as was expected when you first turned up. That didn't, by any means, mean that he had gotten over his anger, though. He actively avoided your gazes and was being a little petty, as always. You swore quietly at Lando as he flicked more water in your direction. You flicked some back. “Behave, you.”

He walked closer to you, playing his chin on your forehead, arms wrapping around you. “Where's the fun in that?”

You dried your hands, turning around to hug him back. You felt his hand playing with your hair. “I love you. I always will.”

You smiled into his chest at his words. Pulling away from the hug, you looked into his eyes. “I love you too. Always.” You leant up to press a kiss to his cheek before pushing a towel into his hand. “Get to drying, you're distracting me.”

“Yes ma'am. On it,” He responded, moving away and grabbing a plate to dry up.

From the doorway, your mum stepped away, leaning against the doorway for a moment whilst she watched you two act so domestically with one another - almost as if you had been together for years. Messing about, talking, actually getting stuff done, being sweet. She headed back to the living room, shutting the door as she sat down. The was quiet until your dad spoke up. “I'm happy they are together.”

“I'm not,” Max replied, rolling his eyes in frustration at them.

“Max. Why do you have such an issue with them?” Your dad asked, putting his drink back on the coffee table.

“Because he's my best friend and she's my sister. I know what he's like and he doesn't stay in relationships for longer than a year usually. Plus it's weird, he's meant to be my friend!” Max looked surprised that his mother and father seemed so happy with it.

“They've been in love for years, Max. Anyone can see it. Don't you think they would've been together a lot longer if they didn't worry what you would think?” Max stayed silent at the words of your mother. “Seriously. Despite being older than you, your sister looks up to you. She sees all three of you as some of the closest people in her lives. Plus, you met P through your sister anyway. So you really can't complain because it's kind of hypocritical, Max. She loves P and loves that you guys are together, as do all of us, so seriously, you need to realise that Lando will treat her well and you need to respect it.”

Max sighed. He looked at his family. “Do you all really like them together?” Everyone agreed, including P. “Really?” He asked his girlfriend.

“Yes, Max. You should've seen how worked up she got when you tried to make Lando choose between you and her.”

“You did what?” Sam asked, now looking at his younger brother with a sense of disappointment.

When the two of you left later that day, after spending some time with your family, you spent the evening watching films and talking about the past couple of days. Not only did your family really like Lando, his family also absolutely adored him. You had spent an hour sat talking with his sister about horse riding, you had spent some time with his mother whilst she taught you how to knit, you had spent some time throughout the previous day with each member of his family, including his niece.

The pair of you sat on the sofa, your head on his shoulder as you watched Cars together for what felt like the thousandth time over the past few years you had lived together. “Do you have any objection to us making our relationship public knowledge?” He asked as you watched.

“In what way?”

“In a sense of people knowing about us, but not knowing every detail or anything, just knowing that we're in a relationship. I want to be able to hold your hand when we are out in public and to be able to hug and kiss you and stuff after races, you know?” He looked at you, placing his forehead gently against yours and bringing his hand up to hold your face. “If you don't want to, we don't have to.”

“I'm happy to make it public knowledge. You don't understand how much I've had to hold back on kissing you whenever you've got a podium.”

He laughed, getting out his phone. “Maybe I should just hard launch us on my Instagram.”

“If you do, I will too.”

He grinned, opening his gallery to a whole album of photos just of you and the pair of you together. “Deal.”

----

landonorris

Hozier - Work Song

liked by youruser and others

landonorris: I'm only me when I'm with you ❤

tagged: youruser

-view all comments-

youruser: I love you ❤

landonorris: I love you more ❤❤

user: TO HOZIER?

user2: When I tell you I screamed!! youruser: user2 same-

oscarpiastri: 2nd cutest McLaren couple

landonorris: cutest McLaren couple**

alex_albon: I believe this is what the kids nowadays call a "hard launch"

landonorris: "kids nowadays" makes you sound old youruser: He is,, another double date soon?? lilymhe: Yes, message the group chat we will plan something! x

user2: Did not have "Lando in a relationship with his best friend's twin sister" on my bingo card.

carlossainz55: Finally done something about the massive crush you had on her since you were 13, I see?

landonorris: I told you that in confidence. charles_leclerc: Mate it was kind of obvious. maxverstappen1: You looked at her with heart eyes whenever you were in the same general vicinity as her

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youruser

Taylor Swift - Lover

liked by landonorris and others

youruser: ❤❤

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-comments limited-

landonorris: I love you so much ❤

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-The End-

-Word Count: 2,143 (not including social medias-

Hi all! Hope you're well, here's another part of the Lando series!! Hope you enjoyed, have a good day. There will likely only be one more part of this!! Alocon

#f1 #fanfic #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando #ln4 x reader #lando norris mclaren #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #ln4 one shot #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 fluff #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris one shot #lando norris fluff #ln4 x you #ln4 x y/n #ln4 fanfic #ln4 mclaren #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren racing #f1 fanfic #formula one

[spahhzy]

Threat Level Index.

Jaune: Using the Waffle House Index, how bad is Salem destroying the world?

Neo: Yellow, at best.

Weiss: ....

Jaune: Ha! Not even the end of the known world is enough to stop Waffle House!

Weiss: ... You know what? I'm not even going to ask. I'm just going to leave before I lose my sanity with you two.

Jaune: Bye Weiss!

Neo: 👋

#jaune arc #neopolitian (rwby) #rwby silent knight #weiss schnee #rwby shitpost

[differenteagletragedy]

your olba drabbles are singlehandedly fueling my obsession and i look forward to them every day thank u sm!! i was thinking of the olba boys comforting you through finals cram time (....im not projecting no.......) like cove would absolutely be the meme of the bf stopping at the library to drop off a bagel and a kiss on the head for you

I love projection requests! Self inserts are self care, spread the word!

-- You know that moment when you thought you lost your homework and Cove gave you his because your schoolwork is important to you and you're important to him? Yeah, that.

-- If you go to school together, then you are the most important thing. You might need to remind him that he needs to study too.

-- He's going to be studying with you, it doesn't matter if you're in the same classes.

-- Will stay up as long as you want to help. Will also go over your flash cards with you as long as you want without even thinking about complaining once.

-- Please remember to take breaks too! If you want him to take you for a drive or to the store or something, just ask.

-- Going to that one restaurant that's open 24 hours in the middle of the night with Cove because he's a hungry boy and you're not done going over your notes yet.

-- But can you even imagine Cove in a Waffle House lol

-- Derek has got this under control. Snacks, drinks, notebooks, highlighters, index cards, etc. etc. etc.

-- Cove will get you snacks, but Derek will make you eat because he takes care of you like that.

-- He is also against the concept of pulling an all nighter because you need your sleep. Will tell you facts about how your brain processes information while you're asleep and how beneficial it is.

-- Derek is the ultimate hype man. "You're going to do great! You've got this!"

-- If at all possible, he's walking you to your classroom and waiting for you after to provide support.

-- Fist bumps all day long.

-- Baxter is totally fine with an all nighter, he prefers it. If you need coffee, he has plenty of coffee.

-- He's going to support you and cheer you on, but he's also going to remind you that one test isn't going to determine your future if you get too stressed out.

-- Will force you to take a break to do something fun.

-- He'll also probably be too flirty, like shut up Baxter, this isn't the time.

-- Unless you want it to be, I can't tell you what to do.

-- Will have something planned for after finals are over! Maybe it's a little trip, maybe it's a nice cozy night in, but he's got something up his sleeve!

#our life beginnings and always #cove holden #derek suarez #baxter ward #our life headcannons

[katapotato55]

a closed waffle house is such an omen

there is this thing called "the waffle house index". look it up on Wikipedia, but basically waffle houses are tough as nails. The more worse a hurricane is, the more closed down a waffle house is. If a waffle house is completely shut down: doom. but i wonder: which is more liminal space-ey ? a closed waffle house or an open waffle house.

i mean an open waffle house already has that "i have been transported to a pocket dimension where time doesn't exist" vibe that the closed waffle house doesn't have and yet the closed waffle house just gives me the creeps, as if something has been horribly wrong. and i have tested this with other diner images too!

here is a Denny's at night. Its still very liminal space-ey, but it looks so warm and inviting. could it be the infrastructure and the lighting ? or could it be that i am biased because Denny's is my senpai. Katapotato X Denny's OTP.

now here is a closed Denny's i found. Denny's is also a 24/7 restaurant, and yet this isn't very creepy to me a little more creepy than an open Denny's, yet i don't get the vibe that something is wrong. its like its SUPPOSED to be closed, the windows are shut, the lights are only on to scare off potential robbers, the sign still has a warm glow. there could be many reasons as to why it is closed. could be staffing issues, or the restaurant is going through maintenance and the workers had to go home for the night, etc.

actually scratch that. Denny's looks way more liminal space-ey at daytime. my theory is that you are not supposed to go to dennys during daylight hours, the authentic intended experience is to eat at 3 in the morning. Denny's was not designed for normal people.

but for that i ask again, hypothetically, what in the FUCK is so horrifying that would close a waffle house down other than a hurricane? If a hurricane didn't cause it, what on earth could possibly end a titan like this ? the waffle house is so powerful i bet when the sun implodes the only thing left of earth will be a waffle house among the ruins of civilization, still running with miserable workers not being allowed to leave even though the rest of humanity has long died. i bet once the universe explodes all that will be left is a fucking waffle house still running and god will be powerless to destroy it because its the fucking waffle house. I am pretty sure I like Denny's better because I am no scared of Denny's, unlike the waffle house when you stare at a dead waffle house, you stare right into the abyss. the abyss has won and your night will swiftly be ruined. basically what i am saying is that a closed waffle house is worse than the backrooms for the simple fact that when I go to the backrooms, I EXPECT horrors beyond my imagining when I am at the backrooms, there is comfort in hopelessness and understanding. I know I can't escape the backrooms. I know there is no hope of escape. There is comfort in no options because you can live or die knowing it isn't your fault But waffle house ? there is always hope, and that is the cruelty at the state you are in being at a closed waffle house. The cruel hope of possibly leaving, only to subconsciously blame yourself for not changing things or leaving. the waffle house is cruel in a way that there is hope in it, and I can't imagine anything more horrifying than a 68 year old southern diner.

#dennys #denny's #the waffle house #waffle house #cursed #cursed image #shitpost #shitposting #liminal spaces #liminal #liminalcore #liminal aesthetic #horror #the abyss #abyss #analysis #katapotato

[diluclover300]

Just One Week (9)

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

also on my ao3: diluclover300

CHAPTER INDEX:

I H8 U

My Kinda Fun

Balance

{S] Awake

Eggs and Rice

Wait, but I'm broke

Couple's Discount

Waffles + Cream

Karaoke Night

CHAPTER 9: Karaoke Night

....

If there was one way Satoru could describe the path he's taking, then he'd simply say - "wherever the world takes me." 

Which the world does, it takes him far. A distance so worrying that he turns over his shoulder to check up on you, his special problem. 

This must be a new-found habit of yours to turn away and reject his acknowledgment, a new-found habit where your eyes meet with the ground.

"You okay?" Satoru isn't the biggest fan of the abrupt flicker of your eyes. Then again, you are his special problem. What else should he expect from you? Obedience? 

A grumbled "yes" is what he receives, the answer he'd like to hear, but in such a jarring tone than he anticipated. So that is a lie, something you do easily. 

You are not okay as these heavy clothes drag your steps slower, bags tackling each other in the wind. Somehow you've been forced into this boxing ring, the audience roaring with disapproval as the blinding spotlight flashes onto your equally distraught figure. The same expression from before slaps back onto your face, the thin rubber band of a mask snapping onto the bump of your skull. Your nose scrunches, baby hairs littering you vision as the sun sets before you, sky a gradient of orange and purple undertones. 

A defense with an unknown purpose, one that is obvious for the enemy to make out in an instant. 

You are not okay when your head jerks away from Gojo, then back up as he resets his focus forward, flexing his neck back into a subtle stretch in his light steps. You really can't bear this so you try your best to find the action's purpose, the reason behind your visible avoidance.

You try your best to be okay. 

One. 

A game of hide and seek is what your mind pursues, an effective method to put an end to this search for purpose and hidden meanings.

Two.

You thoroughly seek, beginning your short countdown as the numbers pace themselves accordingly for a prompt ending.

Three-

"Come out, come out, wherever you are." You rush as you cannot wait any longer, as the postpone of your own trembling voice could cause bloodshed. The coarse, uneven cadence echoes off the walls of territory under your jurisdiction - your hollow mind. 

Precise with your directions, you stumble into the middle of a busy sidewalk. Osaka, you call it your home. A place where you live, where you have chosen to settle. Others may say this with pride, others may loathe this home, and you are neither. You just live here, another number added to Japan's declining population. This had to be your home, living by your lonesome, contributing to society through daily corporate work.

This sidewalk was another room in that large house, a memory of your chilly morning. You're familiar with the setting, no stranger to the pattern of crowds that reset themselves at the crack of dawn and hide in the dead of night. How they grow thick and stretch themselves thin against each crevice and crack of the aged concrete. How they come in timely swarms, orderly when they mercilessly trample over each other, briefcases and cups of coffee butting against one another like bulls. How society has convinced them of their disoriented nature. How it is written off to be as routinely as sunrise and sunset. 

A bystander is no different, a bystander should be no different. But you have already solidified your role in this world - you have convinced yourself to be no sheep, to rid yourself of a tongue that baaed and fur as pale as the moonlight. No matter how hard society tries to reel you into it's disoriented nature.

A bystander like you sticks out like a sore thumb, a bystander like you should be different and is. You are not ignorant to the way your body froze, to the way the soles of your shoes melted onto the pavement.

Your heart punched against your flesh, the spring breeze both swaying and frosting goosebumps onto your arms. Tense fingers brushing across the waistline of your slacks, the friction of the fabric nothing but a mere sense out of the five that overtake you. 

The taste of your salvia metallic. The sight of the crowds nauseating. The smell of the city oceanic, the faint bits of saltwater stroking your nostrils. The sound of people, talking to and amongst themselves as they rush across the streets in groups. 

The touch of Gojo Satoru was gentle. 

Yes, it was abnormal. Your hands which traced over the fingers caging you into his skin. The body that pulled you away was one that should be kept away. All of it was abnormal. The rush of your feet, the blanking of your mind - you are aware of it now. 

However, this wasn't in hiding. This was no secret, not one you kept from yourself. You move on to the next spot, hand falling out of his. Your vision darkens, Satoru fading from your sight. 

"Come out, come out, wherever you are." You call out, that same hand cupping your lips. 

"I'm over here." A response.

That was unusually easy - you're not the best at being the seeker. A bit skeptical, you test for the truth, questioning your reflection. 

It stares right back at you, twirling in the mirror. The skirt of your dress flies along the cycling wind, similar to a ballerina's tutu. Your fingers grab at the soft cloth clinging on and around your skin. As you expect, a chain of regret follows, and the chain of thoughts bound to you. The shackles of spoilt joy, stained with hatred and coated with envy settling over your wrists. Finally, those chains, those shackles, they resolve over the thin film of your eyes, beads of pearls swimming down your cheeks. At some point, your irregular breaths resume, chest rising and falling.

Eventually, your nostrils barely flare while your skin cradles your tears, your complexion beginning to condensate at Satoru's voice. 

The rest goes as planned - the immature swing of the dressing room door, your silenced fury that you stabbed him with deflected. And he studied you with such judgement through the thick of his lens. You can't stop it, let alone change the faintest detail.

This isn't impossible. This could be the very reason. This was why you couldn't meet his gaze. You already sought out what you desperately seek, you have completed the game, you won.

Haven't you?

You feel deceived. This victory is one you refuse to accept, a victory birthed from naivety and foolishness. So what now? What else was there to ponder? To find?

With no direct answer, you continue on. You seek for what has already been sought, pushing a stiff Gojo out of the way as you bolt out the exit. 

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" This time you shout across the sidewalks of Osaka, squeezing your eyes shut as you divert a clump of civilians. "I really... I really mean it this time! Please!"

You squeak, tears streaming down your face as you skew to the left, then right. "P...please."

Your sprints must have served as a prayer themselves, and you gasp when your hands pull at two waffle-shaped door knobs, sticking your head in-between the two clear doors.

The answer presents itself. Your suspicions, your lamenting doubts are correct. You wipe at your sticky forehead, lips agape to shovel in more air, wringing your vision dry to watch as Gojo feeds you from the table to your left. 

"Open wide." He sounds sickly sweet, looking the exact same as you remember. "Good job." 

What you see is a waffle, one that is garnished with a mountain hill of cream, cold as it sinks on your lips and nose. What you notice is the foamy, sweet substance melting on your tongue, staining the entirety of your face. What you feel is the yank of your chin, one that is unusually inviting as it holds you close. 

All of this previously stood as a blur, but now that you rub your eyes, the fog clears. You take a step closer towards the couple, thickly inhaling at the sight. 

You, who sits there shocked at the sudden touch. Satoru, who examines you with such dew behind the safety of his glasses. The hiccup of your breath, the muffled sound of your voice as he swiped the napkin across the entirety of your lips. How tender that seems, how his fingertips prod through the thin paper as he  rubs it against your dirty skin. 

It is all so clear now. 

The glow of his lips, warm as they softly spread. The compact air both binding and separating the two of you behind the table. The flash of his eyes, blue as they always were, merely exposed behind the tip of his glasses. They played their own game of hide-and-seek. 

Your memory of it is so disturbingly clear. However, this wasn't it, this held no significance. The game was already over.  

You toy with the flesh of your mouth, steps brash as you work your way to the table. Gojo turns in his seat, still pressing against the other speechless you.  

"You win." A whisper, one that slips from his tongue like honey. 

You swat the napkin away, forcing his wrist into your hand. He doesn't budge. 

"You found me." 

It can't be. You already won. You have already found what was meant to be discovered. There was nothing else left for you to do. 

"No, I-"

"What? You don't like karaoke bars?"

Even young habits die hard too. You turn your head away at the voice, at a loss for words after such a disappointing game of hide and seek. What remains is a conflict. 

You would never lie to yourself, and it seems that the reason, the purpose of this defense was your tears. A reason and the purpose obvious, so easy to find that you're perplexed by deceit of your memories. This was only because of those tears. Nothing else made sense. 

You are not a liar. 

"I've never been." You admit, arms flexing as they've gone numb. 

Apparently, you're in front of a Karaoke bar. You didn't really notice, but now that you look up, it's booming with sound and people. The place sticks out from the rest in the area, standing proportionally wide and short. It's simply a wonder to you of how people just flow in and out of the door like the streams of a river.

"Eh?" Satoru drags out each syllable, thick with his tongue. He makes sure he's heard, nice and loud. "You've never been to a Karaoke bar?" 

"Uh... no. I've never gone." Was it really that big of a deal? You're not much of a singer anyways - you prefer to embarrass yourself in the comfort of your home. 

Satoru can't believe it. It's impossible. Most teenagers, or at least, the ones he's seen these days go all the time, every single weekend. He's had his fair share of karaoke fun with Suguru and Ieiri, even though the thought leaves him feeling bittersweet.

Anyway, he tried to invite you once or twice, maybe thrice. He swears he did. Then again, you weren't the type to attend gatherings by the time you were admitted to Jujustu High. What you did do was train, day and night, only stopping to eat, shower, and sleep. For some odd reason as if you weren't planning on quitting a couple of years later. 

"Haven't you gone with friends?" He still can't believe it, stepping back until he stood besides you. You don't look at him. 

"I said I've never gone before." You repeat yourself, focusing on the short bush below you. 

He knows he shouldn't ask.

Satoru doesn't want to disturb the peace that lies in the rustle of the leaves near your feet. The wind flies against the curve of your hair, eyelashes blinking against the small bit of dust that follows. The weather isn't so bad, not when you're here. 

Sadly, he asks something he really doesn't need the answer to. 

"Do you have friends?" 

You don't answer, your fingers curling against your palms.  The wind is more forceful, the bush tossing and turning with it's roots. 

He's bewildered. Someone comes to mind. 

You both watch as a group of rowdy teenagers shove themselves against the small doors, arguing about the price of one room. 

"What about Nanami? Have you talked to him?" 

You scoff at the name, a strange jolt in your chest at the very mention. Nanami. You haven't heard that name in years, let alone thought about it as much. 

"I did, but I didn't want to - nevermind." You stop yourself, not willing to take another trip down memory lane, let alone having to tell Gojo about personal matters. He doesn't need to know. 

"Huh, but you two are so alike, though..." Satoru adjusts the bridge of his glasses with a sigh. He wants to hear the end of that sentence, looking up at the rays of multi-colored light escaping the karaoke place. It takes him back to his youth. 

The suggestion evokes a response, one you don't want to give, but one that you just do anyways. 

"Do you think it makes sense for me to be friends with him since we're so alike?" You imitate his tone of words, head hanging lower at the idea. "He's just as..."

You should stop now. You've said enough when your head snaps up. 

"As?" Gojo turns to you, your eyes finally meeting. 

Your defense is invalid, see-through, but you initiate it anyways, occupying your view with the energetic aura surrounding the karaoke bar. The walls tremble and burst with waves of sound and music. You're curious if it's really that fun. If you're missing out on something you shouldn't. 

"He's just as miserable as I am." You finish quiet and low, almost a croak. 

"Ah."

He really should have kept his mouth shut because these are the consequences of his actions. 

The sunset darkens before him. Satoru hates the apathy, the monotone colors of his voice. 

"I see."

...

You slump into the corner seat of the compact room, the red leather cushions screeching against your shoulders. It's a posture of pure relief, grunting out a curse when those headache-inducing shopping bags peek at you from the floor. 

You didn't necessarily agree with Gojo's idea of a karaoke night, nor did you want to sing or hear him do it. Both were poisons of equal evils, you weren't left with much of a choice. Those Six Eyes got you good. One small look and you ran into the room before the booking was even finalized. 

Three hours is what you faintly recall the amount of time Gojo requested. Which means you're caged in here with him for the rest of the night. How fun that was. 

To be honest, you kind of thought the lady at the front ripped him off, even if he did buy the full package with unlimited drinks, soft and alcohol, along with food. It was sort of expensive. You were going to say something, but what was it to you? The guy was rich. You'll let him show off as much as he wants, it's not your problem in the slightest. 

Your problem is that he doesn't want to stop there. Gojo decides it's the best course of action for him to show-off the bulging stomach of his wallet and his stellar voice. You prefer for him to just stick with one or the other, ideally his wealth. 

"Oh, don't give me that look." Satoru catches how you dryly squeeze your eyes when he fidgets with the microphone. 

"What look?" Your avoidance gets the best of you, and that defense mechanism goes off for the third time today. Even if it's only for the split second he looks at you, your speedy receptors take it as a sign of danger. 

There it is, and Satoru thought he had gotten rid of it earlier. He failed at coaxing the beast out of you, even after that heart-to-heart earlier. Alas, his special problem persists. A problem that requires several solutions. Some of which he can't wrap his mind around.

You take one step forward and he ends up running. When you trip, he falls face-flat onto the floor, knees black and blue. What a problem that is. 

"I'll show you."

You unconsciously scoot back in your seat, palms lightening as your back creaks against the flimsy leather cushions. Gojo, who was a good six feet away from you closes the large, secure gap. His shades prove to be nothing but circles of see-through, practically invisible glass as he leans in. You swore they were pitch black moments ago. 

Who decided that a distance of twelve inches, sounding like a brick wall on paper, would be this miniscule in reality? Certainly not you. 

"This look." You opt to focus on the microphone stretching the opening of his pocket, an impractical way of soothing your new-found dilemma. 

Gojo Satoru did not make you nervous, you convince yourself despite the bunch of your shoulders and taut fingers. You were not nervous.

To further torment you, and for him to properly solve his special problem, he squats down. Now he's unavoidable. Your eyes lock. 

"See?" He mimics your blinks, deliberate and slow. "It's like a cat." 

You're stuck, sandwiched in-between the cushions of your seat and Gojo. 

"You... you're not funny." This was already unbearable before, and it's only gotten worse. You can barely encourage yourself to maintain eye contact instead of bouncing your vision between the black walls of the room. 

Satoru lightly grunts, getting up to reach for the remote on the table. He disagrees with your opinion. Nonetheless, he would rather keep it to himself because there was no reason for him to provoke his unique problem. Not when he just started to solve it. 

You rub your cheek, chest relaxing when he directs his attention towards the large TV screen. If this was how the next three hours were going to be, insufferable and filled with pure dread, then you regret cowering at those Six Eyes. You'd much rather die than live unbearably amongst Gojo. 

"Oh man..." He says through his teeth, scratching behind his ears. "I haven't listened to music in so long." 

You think of throwing out a suggestion. It only remains a thought. You don't want to sit here and listen to him sing when you're struggling to live with yourself. 

Your silence is imaginable and real to Satoru. His thumb presses down onto the remote, scrolling down the song menu, most of them being pop hits he has either never heard in his life, or songs that he just hasn't heard since high school. 

Fine. He'll settle for this song, one that isn't his favorite but one that is familiar enough for him to sing along to. 

You chew on the nail of your thumb as the lyric screen loads. You know this song, you used to listen to it in high school. Not anymore though because it's a love song, which means it's impossible to listen or relate to without a frown. 

"It's today, the reason I why came this far." That haunting guitar, the tense, passionate mood of the song. Satoru sings it and you don't think you've heard anything so troublesome before.

Earlier, you were intently eyeing the array of sake bottles on the table in front of you with no intention of indulging in such pleasures. You haven't drank in months. You should not start now. 

"I see you, the tremble behind that smile."

Your resolve to stay sober weakens, it falters when his voice fills the room. You pop a bottle open with your teeth, the harsh action stinging your lips, however, you're willing to stomach the pain if it meant easing your worn-out nerves. You need a break, even if it is artificial. 

"I already gave you everything - Woah, what are you doing?" 

He turns around at the sound and you resist the urge of a defense. None of this would matter in fifteen minutes, every look and each word of his would stand insignificant.  You were going to beis absolutely wasted, a body of sake. 

"What does it look like I'm doing?" You scowl, bringing the bottle up to your lips. The swig is bitter as can be, burning the flesh of your throat. It's been months since you've felt this sort of liberation, since you've heard the clash and clang of your shackles setting you free. You feel brand new, re-birthed. 

Your defense system could rest, there was no need for it now. Things would not be bearable, rather you would force them to be. And is not without the helping hand of liquid gold - liquor. 

"Hey, keep singing." You sip, thickly swallowing with pursed lips as you point to the screen behind him. "Half of the song is already over."

"Right," Satoru resumes his karaoke session, trying his best to focus on the tune. 

"Though my scars grow bigger, I won't let go of you." 

His lips are moving, he's singing along just fine. 

"Baby, you're mine." All is okay, he's having a great time. "I already gave you everything." 

Were you an alcoholic? You told him years ago that you'd never touch, let alone breathe near a bottle. What happened? Did you always casually down half a bottle in a matter of seconds? He wants to check up on you, study your reaction, yet he can't bring himself to. 

Have you changed? Is that it?

"Don't be afraid and approach her, this is the last time."

Of course you have. 

"There's no second chance."

It's been five years. Long and whole. 

"I felt the pain every night, I wanted you so much that I threw a fit-" His tone falters for a moment. "I finally stopped trying to contain my tears." 

This song, you'd usually have the words to describe it after looping it for hours on end years ago, but now you don't. The vocabulary escapes you and you sink into your seat. You're unwinding, each proceeding sip taking you a step closer to your own world. 

The burn of your lips leave you thirstier, parched for another drop. 

"I gave up everything for you, oh." Satoru hears it better than the song, the sound of your gulps and swallows. "So I'll have you all at once without hesitating." 

Bummer. You shake the bottle above your mouth and only a light streams falls out, the rest useless.

"My heart stops, and I tell myself - don't be afraid and approach her." He tries to ignore it, pushing through the last line. "This really is the last time, there's no second chance." 

He didn't think the song would pass by so quickly as the remaining chords resolve with a small clanging effect, reminiscent to the sound of broken glass. 

"Can I say you're mine?"  An adlib finishes.

His grip on the microphone loosens, resting against his side. 

You slowly clap, commanding him for the performance. It's nonsensical and you are not aware. Maybe you didn't have to wait fifteen minutes for the sake to kick in when you quite literally downed a bottle in less than three. Someone should applaud you for such a feat, and that someone decides to just sit beside you without warning.   

"Thanks."

"Yeah."

You can breathe. You can bear his presence. It's not weird to. There's no danger. 

"You okay?" Satoru asks. You're reminded of before. 

"Yeah." You're okay, better than ever. 

He doesn't buy it, not even a little. Your complexion pales, lips cracked as your words muffle. None of it sits right with him, no matter how much you tell him otherwise. 

You are a liar. 

It's out of the blue when you watch Gojo browse the selection screen. 

"I wanna sing too."

You know it well - you've missed out on a lot of things, karaoke being one of them. 

"A duet?" 

You don't have a preference either, you just want to savor the moment, take advantage of your loosened state. You want to live through memories that could have been, to re-write your stolen youth. 

"Okay." You scramble for the mic that was just right next to you, only to realize that he was holding onto it for you. You motion for him to hand it over. 

"Please." You hold your palm out and he complies. Satoru doesn't expect it, but the sake gives you manners. It's nice. 

Well, it was nice until you snatched the remote from him, grumbling about how he'd better sing this song right or else you'd wrangle him with your bare hands. 

"You're gonna sing the second part, got it? Just follow me and don't mess this up." You press the play button, the soulful chords and jazzy instruments acting as a time capsule. It reminds you of high school. You liked this song too. 

"Got it." He feels a bit of pressure, scanning the lyrics. Another love song, they seem to be popular. Not that he's complaining or anything, whatever makes you happy. 

"Ugh, I don't wanna sing this part." You groan, rolling your eyes at the high adlibs blasting across the room. "I'm just gonna wait until the song actually starts. I'll go first, so you just sing the yellow lines after me."

"Okay." Dang. If he didn't ask earlier then he would've mistaken you as an experienced veteran. 

You both sit it out as the sounds of saxophones, trumpets, and vocally challenging adlibs open the song. Or not. 

"OH, yeah, yeah- yeah girl," You've lost your sense for embarrassment, impatient with your voice. And there was only one adlib left before the actual lyrics. 

Satoru clears his throat, caught off-guard. You're loud and rowdy. He's seen this side of you many times, however, he doesn't expect you to reveal it now. 

"I was young back then, honestly, I wasn't serious." You missed this song so much. It's been so long. "Back then, it didn't matter who it was, everyone looked easy." 

The words just bounce off your tongue. It's a bit, how should he put it, out of character? Even then, it's familiar, like he's at a high school reunion, meeting old friends and classmates he hasn't seen in ages. All of them exactly as they graduated, not a single thing from their personality gone missing. 

"I was silly to you baby! I know that I was too thoughtless, oh yeah." 

It's exactly that. The yellow lines flash across the screen. 

"Love? I could get that whenever I want." He picks up on the melody fairly fast. You're impressed. "You saved me from that illusion." 

This song, he's heard it from that MP3 player a handful of times. It got stuck in his head once, so he listened to it every single day until he got sick of it. 

He's in perfect health. 

"At that time I- I was so young, was I attracted to you by magic? Was I?" 

It comes off as a surprise when the blue and yellow colors mix together, but you both adapt, singing the chorus together.

"The street we walked on together, the first kiss we shared-" 

Normally, you'd think this was ridiculous. When you're drunk out of your mind though, it's... exciting? Yeah, you think it is. You continue alongside his timbre. 

"The butterflies pierced my heart and got stuck there. I got you, baby, yeah, it can't be helped when our eyes meet." 

You seem unaffected to Satoru, your voice churning out the rest as he waits for his part.

"When I see you, it feels like something's empty, but when you enter my mind it's perfect." You're practically melting in your seat, sleeping with your eyes open as you continue singing. "You make me shine, and it feels like only great things will happen, yeah."

When was the last time he's seen this? Heard this? Far too long. You blend in with the instrumentation like second nature. 

"Wherever I go, whoever I meet, even when I eat." The yellow lines catch his wandering attention. "I only think of you, am I going crazy? What should I do now?" 

The waffle shop come to mind.  

"What do you mean to me? Are you important? If I don't think about you at least once, I lose my breath for the rest of my days." 

The wipe of the napkin, the pressure on your lips. His fingers on your skin. 

You suppress your recollection with the collective chorus, squeezing the mic as you both mix together. 

"The street we walked on together, the first kiss we shared. The butterflies pierced my heart and got stuck there. I got you, baby, yeah..." 

Your dilemma is undoubtedly existent. You tried to drink it away, drown it, but one bottle wasn't enough. 

Satoru carries on with his side of the deal, the air dense with his voice. Not bad. He hasn't messed up a single word. Gojo Satoru had a knack for singing. You're jealous. Not only is he strong, but he's also musically gifted. What a surprise.

"You match your steps with me, lock your eyes with mine, then our lips just follow." He doesn't stumble over a single word, true to his role. "Since when were you so pretty? Baby, you've changed me." 

The tune breaks into a flurry of saxes, trumpets, and adlibs that lasts for a while. 

"It's not fair." You look over at him. It's hard. 

"What isn't?" 

Your eyes break away. You need more alcohol.

You reach over for another bottle, holding the neck before hooking the cap over your teeth. Satoru decides he only has himself to blame for this, flaunting his wealth with the full karaoke package. 

"I'll do it." Gojo doesn't wait for you to hand it over, cautiously slipping away the bottle into his hand. He'd rather not see you without your two front teeth.  

"Hey, give it back-" 

POP.

He pushes the cap off with his thumb, the microphone catching the large sound. You're definitely jealous, dejectedly taking it from him with a series of unintelligible grumbles. Like you said, it's not fair. He's strong with a decent voice. God has his favorites, and you're not one of them.

Satoru sings the last chorus by himself as you drink yourself silly. With each sip is another week, another month, and another year down the drain. That's his opinion he has formulated, distracted with the way you tilt your head up and drink. 

He should stop you, but he has no right to. You're an adult. He's an adult. You can take care of yourself as much as he can. 

"He's just as miserable as I am." 

Satoru is too late for you to be one of his many responsibilities. All he can do now is sit by your side, lay against the long seats of the karaoke bar with a microphone in his hand, and watch. 

He can only watch as you shut your eyes and tighten your lips at the taste, going back for more. 

"Are you gonna sing?" 

The liquid sloshes around your cheeks. You can look at him again, mind lighter as you slump against the cushions. Everything's fine. 

"Nah. I'm tired." 

...

The sake could have lulled you to sleep. Could have. 

"My blood, sweat, and tears. My last dance too, just take them all-" Your limp body jolts, heavy eyes widened. 

You're awake, unusually conscious as the blood rushes to your head, then to your frigid arms. The skin tingles as you toss your limbs around on the red leather, groaning when you lift your head up from the hard cushions to the snap of the instrumental. You didn't intend on that. 

"Peaches and cream, you're sweeter than sweet - huh, what are these lyrics?" Satoru sucks in his lips with a light roll of his shoulders, sinking into the seat. "Uh, there's a bitter right next to your sweet." 

You swat your hair out of your eyes, rubbing them as you mindlessly mumble the rest of the lyrics to yourself. This song seems to haunt you wherever you go. Yesterday and today. 

What time was it? You fell asleep thirty minutes ago to the sound of Gojo's voice. A slow ballad was what it was, something about crying and another thing about heart-break. You don't know what it really was, probably a love song. 

"Kiss me. It's okay if it hurts, just tighten me so quickly so that I can't even feel the pain anymore."

This song is not the same as the others. 

"Baby, it's okay if I get drunk with this whiskey, your whiskey." 

It's a deceleration of lust, unwarranted and sinful at it's very beginnings, disguised as a love song.

"My blood, sweat, and tears- oh, you're awake?"

You nod, wiping at the sweat on your forehead as you climb back upright. It's stuffy in here, the leather crinkling against your sweat-piled back. 

"Grab me tight and shake me up, so that I can't come to my senses." You turn to him, strobes of red, white, and green lights dancing on his skin, circling the lens of his glasses. 

You scoot closer, breaths growing shorter with the action. When was that there? You've never seen these strobes before.

Ah, your face feels hot. You bring your palm up to your cheek and lightly pat it, eyes unknowingly locked with his.

Your feet hurt, so you kick off your shoes as your heels pulsate against the tightened fabric. Satoru doesn't understand, but he thinks it's best if he doesn't. You're drunk. 

"Kiss me on the lips, a secret between just the two of us." What were these lyrics? He should stop looking over at you. Seriously.

Kiss? On the lips? Who? Him? You must be wasted, body filled with filth when your fingers graze over your own lips. They're dry. He doesn't look away, gazed hooked onto yours. 

"Um..." Your voice dries out, scooting back when inches begin to feel like centimeters. "...Satoru?"

Satoru. That's him, he should respond. He should say something, give you an answer. It's wrong to leave the delicate call of his name hanging in the air, to communicate with his eyes instead. A language only he understands, and one that you don't speak. It was not fair. Not to you. Not to him. 

Another verse passes by. Not missed but ignored. 

"Yeah?"

You quietly swallow, not sake, but your own spit. It was weighing down your tongue, coating the roof of your mouth. You couldn't help it. 

"Y-you're losing points." You turn to the screen, the digits in the corner lowering. You pick at your lips. What was that? 

"Oh, uh- I'm deeply poisoned by the jail of you, yeah. I can't-" 

You let go of the skin, firmly patting your cheeks once more. Something feels off. 

"I knew the grail was poison but I drank it anyway."

The half-empty bottle of sake on the table looks lonely. You pity it, trembling fingers looping around it's neck. You'll give it some company because you're nice. 

"Do you have friends?" 

Yeah, you do. You have a friend, one that is green and tall, with a river for a heart. This one friend of yours knows you inside and out. 

"I want it more and more." 

This friend gives you a bitter escape, your throat bobbing as you drink. It's river of a heart beats with yours. 

"More, more, more, and more." 

This is wrong. He's ruining the song, your favorite song. The tone of his voice is now grating. You and your dear friend can't take it any longer. 

"Give me it." You slam the bottle back onto the table, hand swinging at the mic. "You don't know a thing about singing, alright?" 

"Hey, what- I'm almost done!" Satoru tugs it back, straightening up against the seat. You reek of sake, and the now emptied bottle tells him everything if that large slam didn't already. 

"MY BLOOD, SWEAT, AND TEARS. MY LAST DANCE TOO, JUST TAKE-" You sigh, taking full control of the microphone. "... My blood, sweat, and tears, my last..." 

His fingers slip away, giving you a blank stare. What should he do? 

Nothing. Satoru doesn't want to win against a drunkard. He would lose. 

You don't follow up with a look, curling up in your seat as you sing to your heart's content. This is fun, and you're going to take it for what it's worth. You're going to live. 

You saw it yourself. How those kids pushed and shoved each other to fit through those two narrow doors as if their lives depended on it. You're doing it too, although there are stark differences as to how you spend your karaoke night compared to a group of high school teenagers. 

You did not dive through the doors headfirst, what you were was unwilling, shoulders slumped and head hung low as if you were walking through the hall of shame instead of a karaoke room. You came here with some hotshot jujutsu sorcerer, Gojo Satoru, best known as the bane of your existence. A large shark in the sea of your regrets. What idiot goes to a karaoke bar with their literal enemy? You can shamefully raise your hand to that question. No sane person does that. 

"My blood, sweat, and tears."

There the song goes, it flies out the palm of your hand when the instrumental fades into thin air. 

Your memory of it is forever tarnished. 

...

Satoru hopes his mind isn't playing tricks on him. 

"...but it's three." He says to himself. Really, he could speak his mind as loud as he wants with the way you belt those notes into the mic. 

You wouldn't hear a thing. 

He recounts for good measure, specifically the bottles on the tables, tall and proud as they stand. Three are empty, their souls swimming against the cesspools of your guts. Two have managed to escape the wrath of your lips. God has his favorites, if there even is a God, and those two bottles are not. 

In that case, Satoru isn't blessed with the gift of favoritism either. 

Excuse him. He's got his words jumbled up, whoops. Gojo Satoru knows that he is God's favorite, without a doubt, and those two spared bottles of sake are no different. A slip of the tongue earlier, if he must put it that way. 

Limitless, Six Eyes, 'Gojo' - if there was a food chain, he'd be at the very tip of that pyramid. Competition is just a foreigner. Comparison is a thief of joy. Satoru has never been robbed. The thought of failure is audacious, someone's biggest dream and his worst nightmare. 

"I gave you all the money, I gave you all my heart." You barely enunciate, knees pressed against your chest. "Your masquerade party, oh, I was fucking drunk, woah..."

Yes, you are. He thinks someone would have to be born yesterday to think otherwise. You are stupid drunk, too immersed in your own presence, your own voice too care for anything else. 

You haven't formed a single thought in the past hour, exercising your vocal chords through miles and miles of notes and sounds to the point that all your mind can think of is the pitches to the very next lyric. 

Karaoke is fun. You're having fun. So much fun. 

"Tonight I don't wanna be sober."

"Don't worry," Satoru mouths, palm pressed against his cheek as he's forced to listen. "You're not." Sobriety did not exist in your tiny, little world. You've pumped your blood full of sake. 

"Pour it up, it's all fucking over!"

"Give it a rest, yeah?" You hear him whisper. 

"Break it down! Break it down!"

You do the exact opposite as the adlibs fill in the chorus for you, teeth tearing at another cap. The bottle pops open, losing God's grace with each gulp more restless than the last.  

"This is my ordinary story- yeaahh!" You shut your eyes, tongue tight at the taste. You're alive once more. You're breathing, living, existing, doing karaoke. The sake splashes against the rim the bottle, wetting the floor. You don't care. 

"Get it out! Get it out!"

"Everybody screams like crazy!" Your breath pauses, pushing the sake against your lips as you exhale. You don't care. "Yeah, yeah, eh, eh-"

More. You're getting more. Having more. All of it. Every last drop. 

"Oh eh, eh, eh, hey- yeah!"

Satoru can't help but label it as a sin - your late venture into karaoke. In under an hour, you've sung at least thirty songs, if not more. The song before this was a ballad, one that highlighted your vocal colors quite pleasantly. 

"Pour it out! Pour it down!"

It's sort of a shame that the current, drunken you hogs the mic with such possessiveness. Is it your lifeline? Satoru thought that was the sake, but what does he know? At times, you're unsolvable. 

"Until the night is over!"

He wishes it was. His nose aches because of the bridge of his glasses. And sure, he'd gladly toss the shades away if he could. They were just a small dent in his bank account. 

"Get it out, get it out!"

"All of it, I'm erasing all your traces!" 

If only you didn't get in the way. 

When he tried to take them off, even in the least noticeable way possible, you'd shove his glasses back on without a single word. It was with such urgency too that he was under the impression that what he did was fatal. 

"Yeah, eh, eh, eh!"

"Oh eh, eh, eh, hey- yeah!" You grip onto both the mic and sake. The sight is indescribable

Eventually, he gave up, which seemed to solve only a small part of his special problem. Progress was progress after all, no matter how tedious. 

"All right," You mold out each note, cradling your legs as you sway to the dizziness of the sake, your friend. You have a special bond.  "With those sweet words of yours, you tried so hard to take everything from me- mhmm." 

He glances at his watch, then at you who practically shields yourself with the music. Another problem is in the making. 

"It's a beautiful night, a beautiful night..."

He agrees, it is very beautiful, however, you're running out of time with only seven minutes left out of the three hours given. Gosh, just when he was making progress too. He's in trouble. 

"I feel like I have it all..." 

Memories that could have been are no longer mere what-if's. They're a part of your reality, you're present in those missing times, in that fantasy of singing until you voice could no longer withstand the strain of itself. Having fun, living, drinking, partying it up in a karaoke room - you could check this off your imaginary bucket list. 

"Tonight, I don't wanna be sober."

This is entertainment. This is how you should have lived life a long time ago, exploring what-if's, getting drunk in secret without a single coherent thought. You're late. 

"Pour it up, it's all fucking over!"

What you should have abandoned not five years ago, but a decade ago was jujutsu.

"Break it down! Break it down!"

Every single thing to do with it, from the curses to the school.

"This is my ordinary story!"

There was no good in that place, there still is no good to this day. 

"Get it out! Get it out!"

"Everybody screams like crazy!" 

Jujutsu is an art. One of total sin. Even sorcerers are plagued, they are cursed spirits themselves with a spotlight of justice so blinding that they are convinced otherwise. They are not pure. They are dirty souls trying to rid themselves of guilt. It's sickly selfish. 

"Yeah, yeah, eh, eh!"

"Oh eh, eh, eh, hey- yeah!" 

"Pour it out! Pour it down!"

There is a living, breathing example only centimeters away from you, one that is the most selfish of them all. 

"Until the night is over!"

"Get it out! Get it out!"

Gojo Satoru is at the very tip of the jujutsu iceberg, and the person only centimeters away from him is a ship.

"All of it, I'm erasing all your traces!"

That person, that ship is you, cursed with such a tasking, cruel job to crash and break. 

"All of it, every trace of you-"

"I hate you."

You will crash into that iceberg, no matter the phase of the waves, no matter which way you steered the wheel, left or right, south or west. You will crash into Gojo Satoru, your fates will align, they will intersect. 

You will always resent Gojo Satoru. 

"That's not the right lyric-"

"I fuckin' said what I said. Fine, huh... I fuckin' said it, you bastard!" You spew into the mic. "I really hate you, you're so annoying!" 

Your voice chokes, coughing as you weakly sip. You need a helping hand, your friend to pick you up when you're at your lowest. The walls of your ship are cracking, one by one, piece by piece. 

"I hate you!" A vocal run, that's new. The roadmap of it is bumpy, raw, so pitchy that he doesn't know whether to be offended or impressed at the attempt. 

The song ended a few seconds ago. Satoru is dumbfounded as to why you're freestyling to the beat of air. 

You're beyond frustrated. The iceberg doesn't crack. If anything, it points a finger at you and silently laughs to itself as you sink deeper and further into the abyss of the ocean. 

"You're stupid, ugh, I just- Why? Huh? You can't just, no, I hate you, yeah. I really, really, really hate you." You shut your eyes tighter with each and every word, pressing the bottle to your lips until there's nothing left but air.

Gojo lays there as you go off onto a tangent, arms crossed as he sighs to himself. There, there, let it all out. Just keep doing what you're best at, swallowing sake in between shallow breaths to express your hatred. He won't dare interrupt you.

"Hey, Gojo Satoru!" The now lifeless bottle rolls onto the floor and under the glass table with a clang. There goes your dear friend.

"Can't you hear me?" You scoot closer, the fabric of your pants bunching up against your knees. 

He's unbothered, fingers dancing on his arm as he whistles to himself, eyes up in the air. You'll calm down overtime. 

"Hey." You peer into his glasses, microphone pressed to your chin as your fingers tremble. "Satoru-" 

"I hear you, loud and clear." The lights dance on his pale skin, illuminating the strands of his hair. He blinks, eyelashes long as his gaze settles on you. 

Your lips part, coming back together then apart once more as spit pools around your tongue. This is off. There's something wrong with you. 

"Then say something." Your knees unfold, stretching out as your bones crackle, mumbling into the mic. "You're ignoring me, you-"

You keep crashing into him. The waves clash against your wrecked walls, and the iceberg is as you first saw it. Untouched. Unharmed. 

"It's not fair." You breathe, head growing heavier with each thought. "I hate you."

Why are you the only one breaking? He was doing just fine lying there, relaxing, having fun. 

"Gojo Satoru, I hate you." You're drowning. "I said I hate you, I HATE- mph!"

"That's enough."

Your lips rub against his palm, wet as they smear his skin. The microphone in your hand flees to the bottle of sake underneath the table, your dear friend. 

"Put your shoes back on. We're going back home now." 

The offer doesn't interest you at all, the tone of home sounding all too flat, too boring. Besides, your new home was here in this karaoke bar, with your dear, green friend. You shake your head, his palm sliding down your lips, then your chin, and finally all the way off your face. 

"Nope, you can't make me." You fumble with your words, stopping to wipe at your lips. "And don't even think 'bout using those damn Six Eyes 'cause I don't care!" 

Satoru examines the pool of spit, holding his hand high against the strobe lights. Interesting, they aren't as dry as they look. What is left to wonder about is the feeling. 

"Okay." He pulls himself up with your filth unwiped, not forgotten. "Are you sure though?"

"Sure as hell." You shimmy into the cushions, gluing yourself inside their warm embrace as he stands, sighing to himself. You will not cower. 

He reaches underneath the table, placing the microphone back up onto the tabletop before trashing each and every single bottle in sight, all his victims green and tall. It's murder, your friends are crying from afar, wailing in that black bucket of despair. So long, dear friends. 

"Huh? You just wasted-"

"There's nothing great about alcohol." Satoru puts it plainly, walking over as he snatches your discarded shoes.

"I guess not." 

Your agreement is ironic, he keeps this thought to himself as another forms -  the alcohol isn't wasted, you are.

"My feet hurt." You confess when he pulls you to the edge of your seat. Darn it, you should've used better glue. "...so I don't wanna wear 'em." 

"Well, I don't wanna put 'em on either, but I'm still doing it." He says, re-adjusting your socks. 

"Yeah, you do." You blurt out, rubbing your eyes open. His firm hold on your ankles somehow keeps you awake as he fits you into your shoes. 

"I don't."  He thinks of this as a response, and the thought is more pointless before it is unspoken. He does not want to argue with a drunkard, there's no sense in it. 

His fingers work quick, looping around each string to form bunny ears, and finally double knotting your shoelaces. 

"Can you walk?" He dusts off the last shoe, getting up with a slight grunt. 

"Y-e-s." You stretch out each letter, rotating your covered ankles. You still prefer to be barefoot. 

By all means is Gojo Satoru a risk taker, that is his literal job, a gamble of calculated skill and luck. However, he's off the clock, and the risk presented to him with such a poor platter is one he will not take, simply unworthwhile. 

"Those are mine." You seem to be fluent in nonsense, speaking whatever comes to your mind. 

"They are." Again, no use in arguing with a drunkard. Satoru gives up for the second time, looping the hefty bags of clothes onto his arms. He has two minutes until they're kicked out of this place. 

"Don't steal 'em. I liked the dress a little bit."

"I won't, promise." He's the one that bought 'em. "Now get on." 

"Huh?" Your mouth widens, jaw slacked. 

"Get on my back."

"H..Huh..." You look below you only to see his back on full-display, swallowing your vision whole. 

There are faint cracks on his black shirt, aren't they? Even to a drunk you, the curiosity, the question that tickles the tip of your tongue remains internal. 

No, that was muscle. Those cracks were bulges of strength built up over the years, showcased by the tight hold of his shirt. And those shoulders, were you just imagining it? You're not very creative though, not to this extent at least. They looked broader.

"Come on," He only has two minutes left before the both of you are kicked from the room, turning over his shoulder. There's no way he's betting on those handful of seconds to get you moving. "We have to leave."

"You've grown." You slip underneath the blanket of your breath. Was that the sake talking? 

"What?" 

"Nothing," You slur out, slinging your heavy arms around his neck. Something is off. "I'm getting on."

You get it now. 

It's really been five years. Long and whole. 

...

see you next chapter!

#ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #fanfic #archive of our own #enemies to lovers #eventual smut #friends to lovers #romance #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #satoru #gojo x y/n #jjk x y/n #y/n

[miasmaghoul]

I've heard! My friends out at the ritual tonight and she was staying how everyone had to evacuate to their cars but they're trying to wait it out 😭

So the venue really fucked up last night. They made one post at like 830pm once the rain had stopped that they were trying to get everything set up again, and then said NOTHING ELSE. Apparently the soundboard got fried in the rain and they didn't have a replacement which is........odd.

We all stood in the parking lot for almost three hours with no food, water or bathroom access waiting to see what would happen. I got a ride with a very nice guy and his daughter, and once the venue officially closed at 11pm with no word we all started to bail. The venue actually had the cops show up, as if any of us had the energy to cause a scene.

The ghesties swarmed the local Waffle House - literally, they told people coming in after us that they weren't taking more orders. If you know about the Waffle House index, you know what a big deal this was.

We got a Facebook update from the venue around midnight that the show was rescheduled for the 31st. I'm hugely thankful that I'll be able to stay in SC (at the cost of eating into my savings, but still) and get to try again, but a lot of people will not be able to do that. It's incredibly unfair, and all of the blame is to be placed on the shitty venue and their shitty communication. I sincerely hope the band knows that none of us blame them.

If you guys can spare them, I'd appreciate any and all good vibes for tomorrow. ♡

#miasma says #it was heartbreaking #but we try again tomorrow #and hope that the weather is in our favor

[leclerced]

…..so when DO the boys see carhop reader again ?

honestly they went straight to mexico city from austin i think but i don’t know if they wen’t straight to vegas from mexico bc there was an off weekend between mexico and vegas. idk what they did after mexico n before vegas tbh i can’t remember?? BUT considering they have a weekend off between those two races i think they’d def take the opportunity to go back to texas. they’d verify w their teams they can get that weekend off and ask her to schedule that weekend off and her coworkers would do it immediately but only if she promises to bring them by.

imagine her picking them up from the airport late at night then stopping by her sonic before it closes and all her friend coworkers are there, she’s weirdly nervous ab it like she’s introducing them to her parents. but tbh you need the cooks approval y’know? after sonic the boys are actually hungry and she refused to eat sonic so the boys waited until they left to eat, but not much is open so girlie takes them to waffle house. she tells them all about the waffle house index, which if you don’t know is an informal way of measuring how bad a disaster is. waffle houses are notoriously open no matter what, so if your waffle house is closed, shit is fucked up. i’ve never seen a closed waffle house in my life. they do limited menus during disasters and have trained teams to reopen, if they do close, asap once safe to do so. live laugh love waffle house.

then as soon as they’re back at the hotel they’re rushing to get her into bed because they’ve missed her.

i think she would take them allll around austin. idk much about it but the things i do know ab it is theres an amusement park where you can go karting!!! also rock climbing, mini golf, laser tag, rides, and those classic prize games. she definitely would have gone growing up its like a tradition imo, everyone goes there at least once. one morning when they’re asking what they can do, she’d passively mention it and they’d get so excited about it and she’s like tired from the night before and doesn’t wanna walk around the park all day, but oscar says he’ll give her a piggyback ride the whole time and she refuses that and goes anyways. despite her saying she can walk, he carries her around for awhile just because he wants to. he would insist that she hop on his back so lando can take their picture at least, but then he doesn’t put her down. they’d go on rides and hold her hand and totally beat her at karting. she hates losing so she casually says they should try the rock climbing next , then absolutely smashes the rock wall. before they’re halfway up, she’s scampered to the top, run the bell then dropped back down.

also would looove them somehow convincing her to go to vegas with them ?? getting her all fucked out so she lets them buy her plane tickets and secure all the paddock passes and the next morning she regrets agreeing to ask her boss for a week off work all of a sudden. oscar and lando would promise passes to the race next year, then have to concede and promise to get standard tickets for the people who will be covering her shifts for the week she’s taking off because her manager will only let her have the time off if she finds someone to cover her.

im not in school so idk how the breaks work but im pretty sure they get time off for thanksgiving, and thanksgiving was the thursday after the vegas race soo lets say she has the following week off school for the holiday so they just have to convince her to take off work for the week. vegas was a weird one. lets say she doesn’t have class fridays so she flies to vegas after class thursday and goes straight to the track to see her boys before practice. they’d have gotten her passes and such so she gets in easily, and someone takes her to the mclaren garage and she gets to see them right before practice starts.

and then it swiftly ended when carlos’s car was annihilated by that drain cover. she’s soo sleepy by that time bc it’s late at night but she just sits and watches her boys work, ignores them telling her she should go to the hotel and rest. she eventually gives in to the idea of napping in oscar’s driver’s room when they come back from their interviews, and she convinces them to go with while they have a little break and lay down with her until the next session.

#ask #carhop au

[harrywavycurly]

Now all I can think about is Eddie in target with you😂😂

Hiii lovey! Eddie in a Target is now all i want in life😂🙈 enjoy my babes!!! 💖

“You said ten minutes…” You’d just ignore Eddie as he rests his elbows on the handle of the cart he’s been pushing behind you for the past half hour. He’d raise an eyebrow as he watches you look for a specific type of shampoo on the self. “We aren’t out of shampoo yet are we?” He’d ask as he sees you struggle to get the bottle off a higher shelf.

“I like to have a back up.” He’d playfully roll his eyes as he comes up from behind you and grabs the bottle you were reaching for. “Thanks honey.” You’d spin around and get on your tiptoes and place a kiss to his cheek as he groans at your choice of pet name.

“Awesome so now that we’ve got that can we go now?” He’d ask as he drops the shampoo bottle in the cart making it land on top of all the other random household items he swears neither of you needed.

“One more thing then we can leave.” He’d huff as he assumes his usual position as the driver of the cart as you lead him towards an aisle that’s all too familiar to him.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” He’d mumble as a you stop in the middle of the aisle. “Nope absolutely not.” You’d poke your bottom lip out as he shakes his head no when you reach your hand out to him with a jar making him roll his eyes as he takes it out of your hand with a defeated huff.

“You know I’m not good at picking I need your help.” You’d explain as you watch him open the lid and bring the jar up to his nose.

“This smells like waffles.” You’d raise an eyebrow as he sniffs it again. “Who would want their house to smell like waffles?” He’d ask as he hands it back to you so you can put it back on the shelf with a shake of his head.

“This is called Leather.” You’d grab the candle off the shelf and open the lid and give it a sniff before turning towards Eddie. “Oh smells sexy.” You’d shoot him a wink as you hand the candle to him.

“I hate this part of being a boyfriend.” You’d laugh as he brought the candle to his nose instantly making a grossed out face. “Absolutely the fuck not.” He’d hand the candle back to you making you giggle. “Can’t we just get that one that smells like cinnamon or some shit and call it a day?” You’d tap your chin with your index finger as you bend down to scan the selection in search of the candle he was referring to.

“Ah ha!” Eddie would raise an eyebrow as you excitedly grab two red candles off the shelf. “The last ones, how lucky are we?” You’d ask as you show him the two candles that were named “summer flame” and had the scent he liked.

“Oh wow we are so lucky.” He’d joke as you placed the two candles in the cart before walking over and taking the cart away from him. “Can we go home now?” He’d ask and then look at you wide eyes as you push the cart in the opposite direction of the checkout. “Uh babe…the exit is that way…” You’d just laugh as he quickly catches up to you.

“You don’t want to go look at the game section?” You’d look over your shoulder with a smile as Eddie rubbed his lips together as if he was honestly debating on if he wanted to look at games or not.

“Well don’t you just know the way to my heart.” He’d give you a grin as he leaned down so he could place a kiss to your cheek. “I guess this place isn’t too bad.” ✨

#eddie munson boyfriend #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #Eddie munson #Eddie munson Monday #stranger things fanfiction

[rosenallies]

phone sex au waffle house prompt rn

I’ve only been to a Waffle House under the influence and at 2am <3

——

“Rosie, Rosie, Rosé, babe,” Denali whined, poking Rosé in the side with her index finger, “wake the fuck up!”

Rosé blinked awake, squinted as her eyes adjusted to the bedside lamp that Denali turned on. “What’s wrong, bab- oh, holy shit. Nali, how many of those gummies did you take? Your eyes are so-“

Denali laughed, her eyes so red and glazed over. “I’m not sure, 3 maybe? But Rosie, I’m fucking starving.”

Breathing a sigh of relief that Denali wasn’t waking her up because of a panic attack or nightmare, Rosé smiled and stroked her cheek. “Then go make yourself a snack, honey. You can bring it back here if you want as long as it’s not anything messy.”

“No,” Denali shook her head, “I don’t want anything we have here, I already looked. I want-I think I want waffles.”

“Baby, it’s 3am, where are we gonna go to get stuff to make waffles?”

“Well, there’s that Waffle House a few blocks away.”

“Waffle House? That place is-“

“Perfect for 3am munchies? Absolutely, let’s go.”

As much as Rosé wanted to tuck herself back under the comforter and sleep, she rolled her eyes affectionately and agreed. “Fine, let’s go. I’m assuming I’m driving.”

Denali pulled the car keys out of the pocket of her sweatshirt, presenting them to Rosé with a dopey smile. “You would assume right.”

Scoffing, Rosé shook her head. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Come on now.”

“Yay, thank you, Rosie!” Denali clapped, following Rosé out of bed happily.

In the car, they held hands and hummed along to the radio until Rosé was pulling into the restaurant.

“Fuck, I’m excited I’m gonna get the biggest plate of waffles they have!”

“Get whatever you want, baby, just behave yourself,” Rosé chuckled, helping Denali out of the car once she was out herself.

Hanging onto Rosé’s arm, Denali giggled to herself as they were seated in the back, Denali cuddling underneath Rosé’s arm on the same side of the booth.

“Order for me, mommy,” Denali whispered as the waitress approached.

Denali hid her face in Rosé’s shoulder as she ordered, quietly giggling to herself.

“What are you giggling about now, huh?”

Denali shook her head with a smirk like she was in on some secret that Rosé wasn’t. “Nothing.”

“I’m sure it was nothing,” Rosé joked, nudging Denali’s side, “you get so giggly when you’re high. It’s cute.”

“No, you’re cute. Cute little Rosie.”

They chattered on for a little while longer, lovingly teasing one another until the waitress brought out the plate of waffles Denali forced Rosé out of bed for. Rosé thanked her then turned her attention back to her partner beside her, who just stared at her expectantly. “What, darling? Did she forget something?”

Huffing, Denali shook her head. “No…”

“Then what is it? You should eat before your food gets cold.”

Denali then looked down at her plate and then up at Rosé, pouting and jutting out her lip childishly; using her very best puppy dog eyes. “Please, mommy?”

“My goodness, baby, making me get out of bed this late and making me cut your waffles and feed you? I’m gonna confiscate your gummies and dispense them only one at a time,” Rosé laughed softly, though she felt nothing but love and affection for the girl beside her.

#me writing for no one <3 #phone sex au

[newsie-collective]

Splasher

Quickfire Favorites

Food: “Lasagna. All fuckin’ day. Does not matta when or where, it's always lasagna.”

Color: “Light blue, like the sky on a clea’ day.”

Season: “Early summa. When the weatha’s warm, but not overwhelmin’ly hot.”

Weather: “Sunny an’ warm, but not hot.”

Hobby: “Swimmin’. Life just feels betta in the wata.”

Animal: “Giraffes.”

Memory: “First time I gotta whole dime for one pape. That was when I knew I could make it as a newsie.”

Comfort Item: “Ain’t got one. Don’t see no use in havin’ a lotta stuff.”

Second gen US. His parents were young kids when they moved to New York from Italy

Knows minimal Italian. He was never formally taught the language by his parents, he just picked some up

The scar is from a fall when his hip gave out. He was climbing up an old fire escape with Graves when it happened. He thinks it’s embarrassing, so there’s always a different reason

“Fought a shark”

“You should see the otha guy”

“My pops was an evil bastard” (not a lie, but not how he got the scar)

Graves comes up with even crazier stories for how he got his scar

“Fell from grace”

“Got it crawlin’ up from hell”

“He fought Bigfoot and WON”

Considers Graves his best friend. He was there during the accident and didn’t tell what actually happened

Used to wear caps but kept losing them

After losing the third cap he just said fuck it and stopped wearing them 

Lowkey faked his own death. There was a bad fire in the apartment building where he lived with his family, and quite a few people didn't make it out. Once the fire died down, he got just close enough to watch everyone go through the rubble. He saw his parents find what they believed to be his body and realized he could be free. He never looked back

Doesn't talk about life before. He's scared he’ll have to go back to his parents if they find out he’s alive. 

If he thinks he sees his parents, he’ll duck into an alley or hide somewhere until they’re gone

It’s not them everytime, but he has seen them. Turns out, he’s got a little brother now… He hopes they treat him better

He tried to introduce himself to his brother once when he was alone. He panicked a bit and just ended up awkward trying to sell a pape

He was not successful 

Panicked when someone asked his name for the first time after running away. He was so close to saying “Adam” but totally stuttered

He ended up saying he didn’t have one

The next day someone saw him jumping into the river and called him Splasher. It stuck

Swims to help alleviate the chronic joint pain

Once he’s done selling for the day, he’s in the river

Hates the colder months bc it’s just constant pain

Cannot remember a pain day lower than 6/10

Will not admit to the pain

Probably thinks it’s normal

“Wait, you mean you don’t have days when you can barely walk?!?”

Jfc this kid can climb. If he’s not in the river he’s climbing up something

Will sleep on the roof if weather permits

Always outside. If he’s inside, the weather is absolute shit or the world is ending

He’s kinda like a human Waffle House Index in that sense

Like every other newsie, he absolutely adores Miss Medda. Has gone over to Manhattan several times just to make it to one of her shows and try and catch her at the stage door

Stole flowers for her once

Will flirt to hell and back to sell papes

Has flirted with the wrong people…

Playfully flirts with other newsies. Has probably gotten into scraps with other them about flirting with their partners

Mush had to physically restrain Blink once. Splasher told Mush he had the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen. Blink was standing behind him and almost soaked Splasher on the spot

Jack is the only one he won’t flirt with for some reason

Despite all the flirting, he’s not all that interested in finding a partner

High sleight of hand. Doesn’t use it much but can absolutely get his hands in pockets and purses

Pickpocketed during the strike to try and help himself and others through not selling

This is coming out totally definitely on time and not late at all 😬

👻

#newsies #92sies #askthenewsies #carrying the banner #newsies of new york #livesies #king of new york #splasher newsies #splasher #👻

[dearest-painter]

OMG THANK YOU SOOO MUCH AND HERE ARE MY HEADCANONS IF THEY WERE IN OUR PRESENT TIME:3

GYARU!READER

They would definitely do and film grwm routines but some of them being “grwm to go fight someone”

And also “GRWM about talking about stuff I hate”

Used to work at Sephora cause they argued and fought one of the customers

Now miserably works at Waffle House and hates how the stuff gets under their acrylic nails

Has had a fight with someone over the cloths they were gonna buy and yandere romantic Gary ended up being their getaway driver or him helping gyaru!reader while acting like he hates them

Only uses emoticons when insulting someone

Has Ratio many people on twitter

Goes live while doing their hair and user12638627 joining in, definitely not yandere romantic Gary(or Gary would use his account while typing in Hate, but has a whole collection of gyaru!readers vids saved on tiktok secretly)

A lot of pics of them and their clothing check are on Pinterest and the gyarus Pinterest users loves them

Cries like Trisha paytas

SCENE!READER

Is very popular on MySpace

Does tutorials on how to do kandi like different types of bracelets, purses, keychains, ect

Also does grwm on tiktok but on YouTube it’s kinda long(example:https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=-MToB72v6_0&list=LL&index=1&t=61s&pp=gAQBiAQB)

Did a tiktok of them and Jimmy and Pete, all together, dancing to nightcore version of be my bad boy or everytime we touch(which got like 1 million likes)

Ether ignores a hate comment or just reply’s to them with ”:3” or any emoticon

But yandere platonic Gary goes after those who types hate comments and stuff like “wrist reveal” and makes a lot of accounts terrorizing them and manages to find their bloodline on Facebook until they blocked him

Is followed by yandere platonic Gary, Jimmy, pete, the nerds, and Johnny on tiktok

Yandere platonic gary films a vid of him and his sibling(scene!reader) while it read “when you and your sibling has a different clothing style”

Does outfit checks

LOLITA!READER

Yandere platonic Jimmy does vids of him helping his younger sibling(Lolita!reader) with their hair

Their mom bought lolita!reader that lolita dress from Amazon and yandere platonic Jimmy had to explain to his mom the reason why it was wrong and that other people like Lolita!reader avoids that mistake and he ended up buying a different dress from bodyline, lace market, Taobao or any Lolita website cause their mom didn’t understand

Plays on roblox and the game being the most played by them would be royale high and them having a lot of expensive clothing sets on the game and playing with Jimmy along with Pete and surprisingly gary would play with them(but Gary would only play to ether troll or with the others because of boredom)

Roblox username is unicorngirl something

Ratios everybody who hates on their older sibling vids

Has told a kid(who they were arguing with)on roblox that they should shut up cause they are probably like 5 and should give their mom the phone back and that it’s bedtime

Has almost gotten lost by a crowd of people when them and Jimmy tried to go to their class cause a Tardy sweep was happening(and Jimmy had to hold on to their hand)

Argues with grown ass adults(only when they are being disrespectful to them or Jimmy)

Has an amazing reading level and is very smart for their age(Gary or the jocks definitely didn’t commented an 🤓 under a post of Lolita!reader and the schools post being about their intelligence while being young from the schools page)

Jimmys and Lolita!readers mom flexes about how Lolita!reader is the only gen alpha that knows how to read and spell and isn’t disrespectful (Lolita!reader birthdate is ether 2012, 2013 or 2014)

Thinks kids who goes to Sephora are dumb

Offoptic: right now I can imagine gyaru!reader doing their work on Waffle House while miserably trying to get the stuff out under from the acrylics and saying some storylines while getting ready, scene!reader giving yandere platonic gary, Jimmy, pete,the nerds some of the kandi they made, and the trio(Yandere platonic Jimmy, gary, and pete) playing fashion famous with Lolita!reader, and Gary being pissed that someone is copying him, and on shark attack, Lolita!reader and jimmy trying to kill the shark while one of them were yelling to drive faster to Gary and Gary being pissed and blaming it on Pete(at the end, the shark ends up catching them and killing yandere platonic jimmy and Gary while pete and Lolita!reader manages to get away by jumping off the moment the shark was about to eat them but they end up dying at the end when the shark finds them)

Omfg I love this so much but I do love the idea that Gyaru!reader warms up to it because of their coworkers but also the fact, they get free drama that finally doesn’t involve them

#✉️mail arrived✉️ #genderfluid enity answers!

[trapton]

“ don’t do that. don’t shut me out. ” from the post-trauma sentence starters - henry emily, to post-divorce? post-'83? post-something will

🔧 @nineliabilityrisk (post-trauma sentence starters)

"and why shouldn't i?" he bellows, anger in his tone as large palm makes contact with the other man's desk. the other pushed into his greying hair.

voice is lower grit when it comes forth, though still angry. "one day you'll look at me just like the rest of them." you'll look at me like a criminal. or, perhaps paranoia would allow him to see suspicion in henry's eyes. his mania. right now though, it's pity. something william well and truly does not want. [...]

though he could never suspect him. even if he will be arrested, they'd let him go. but the parents.. the turnout just won't be the same. & he knows he's right. (they'd already had to close the diner, left with the pizzeria). william doesn't want to scramble to keep himself in the fray. knows he has to begin his work upon the fellow engineer now. his child is dead, his coping has just begun. pinstripes of grey speckling his visage, bags under his eyes.

his jaw clenches while he turns to look at henry with a pinched expression. the pads of his fingers twisting upon the desk. yet while he's not leaning to far against it, he does press his hip to the wood in a distrustful air. a tension headache building in his temples from clenched jaw. "i don't want your pity, henry." other finger comes to point. he feels like he's fallen off the rails, and he's not sure how to get back on track. "it's not my fault i've had to pick up the slack around my house. that we're --" [...] he swallows, eyes waffling as he tucks hair behind his ear. that he's failing, for the first time in his life -- or so it seems in his adult years, anyway. no longer the man with the perfect family. "it's not my fault." he says quieter, with a thrust of his index.

#idk if this is even good ghjk #but HERE #𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞: ( 𝑤. 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑜𝑛 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑠 ) / 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑘𝑖𝑑𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑛'𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 #nineliabilityrisk #𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞: ( 𝑖𝑛 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟 ) / 𝑤. 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑜𝑛 #₀₀₁ ᜵ 𝙾𝙾𝙲 ¸ answered