#truly a no brain head empty comic

[sashimiyas]

you didn’t mean to buy so many groceries. your favorite snack happened to be on sale. and it’s paycheck day so the novelty notebook you’d been eyeing for the past month finally was worth splurging on.

“let me hold it for ya,” osamu says when you hitch the overflowing paper bag up to press it closer to your chest with both arms.

also in the condiment aisle, right next to the fruit spreads, was actually your neighbor, osamu.

you consider, glancing to his right hand that has a single knob of ginger for some marinade he’s prepared for the night and the quickly think against it.

“i’ve got it.”

catching him at the konbini at the corner of your apartments is no surprise. you’d crossed paths many times. it’s a watering hole, an intermediary through the routines of your days what with the way the clerk greets you both by name.

it’s only this time, when osamu finds out that you’re headed home just like he, does he insist you walk together.

osamu’s no harmful neighbor. in fact, he’s one of your more favorable ones even if he does have a tendency to slam his doors and cabinets a little too loudly. he’s also knocked on your door to check in on you when you accidentally left your key in the lock. and one time, when he heard wind that you were sick, most likely from the same konbini clerk from earlier, he dropped off a flavorless soup “chock full of nutrients” according to him. if you noticed that the cabinets within his home slammed less during the days of your recovery, that could attributed to the brain fog of your sickness feeding any sort of delusions it could find.

your delusions are no picky eater, feeding off of whatever meager crumbs it can. so really, the walk home together is enough.

osamu truly is no harmful neighbor. but, you’re finding out, he is quite insistent.

“gimme that.”

osamu all but plucks the bag from your arms. he lifts it up with one hand and places the contents of his plastic bag right on top. it’s almost comical how he handles it so easily with a single grip when it took all your strength to carry the bag home.

“hey!” you’re already reaching for it back but osamu twists at the waist and uses his free hand to push you away.

“just say thank ya.”

he doesn’t stop in his step, ignoring you and keeping pace back to the apartment complex. it’s clear in his demeanor that he has no plans in giving you back your bag. so you relinquish by running back to his side and falling into step with him.

it feels too much like losing so you just mumble, “thank you.”

the man beside you doesn’t acknowledge your gratitude. he only walks forward and so do you. you’re keen on avoiding his gaze and have no intention of filling the silence, only focused on placing one foot in front of the next.

if you had looked up, you would have noticed osamu’s eyes locked on your hand, the one besides his. you’d probably have recognized that gaze, a quiet and thoughtful kind, the one he has when he watches a new customer try the food he’s made. you’d have prompted him to speak because, despite his uninhibited mouth, he leaves many things unsaid.

you would have noticed the way his hand drifted towards yours, the pinch in his eyebrow as he contemplated his actions and the hesitation in his fingers as he reached out for you, and the solid shake of his head as he threw it all out the window and winded his fingers with yours.

you jump. of course you do. but osamu’s holds you steady in his grip.

and when you look at him, his expression is just as genuine as his words.

“your hand was empty.”

and that’s all it really took.

#reinas.inretrograde #reina.writeshaikyuu!!

[fariesoiree]

Absolutely feral for the aphrodisiac chocolate drabble! what would have happened if you extended it into an entire fic? 👀👀 *wink wink*

hmmm should i? i usually don’t really plan on extending any of my drabbles n i actually don’t go back n reread them bc they’re vastly different from how i write now ( 2 me ) but that one gets a lot of love

that being saiddddd idk if i’d actually ever extend it but here’s a little something of what would happen later that day broken down into two liddol moments bc bc bc idk if i would write it and if i dooo i don’t wanna spoil it c: mdni black fem coded reader unedited

the car ride back to your university apartment. that had to be one of the most tense moments hobie has even been in, even when he compares it to all the times he’s spent flying through the air with multiple near misses from the amount of concrete rubble thrown at him from half human-half animal villains hellbent on ruining new york.

he is ultimately forced to next to you, breathing in the smell of your sweet perfume. today, he watched you spritz the yellow sol de janero —brazilian crush cheirosa 62 —bottle over your body, naked and highlighted in a dewy sheen from the baby oil you applied to your damp skin, fresh out the shower.

the thought makes his dick absolutely throb in his jeans, baggy but somehow still tight. he’s abandoned the mass of silvery and studded belts, throwing them across the backseat of your sedan. occasionally, when you slow for a red light or make a less than smooth turn around the corner, the buckles jingle and clank against each other.

his brain is muddied with images of your body, basking golden in the sunlight. he remembers lazing about, strewn across your bed and watching in adoration as you get ready for the outing. he’s mad at himself for not taking advantage of the opportunity and sweeping you off your feet, never mind that the aphrodisiac hadn’t had an effect.

“you sure you can’t pull over and give me head?”

your eyes are blown wide, truly in shock that after just fucking your face in the mall dressing room, he wants to go again. not even ten minutes ago, you were swallowing his cum and being dragged towards the exit promptly after. “what? hobie, i drive a fishbowl. that’s literally illegal.”

“so then pull somewhere empty. i’ll give you head, first. consider it a reward.” hobie thumbs at the bottom of your sweater, reaching over the middle console and hooking his fingers under the buttery smooth material. the pads of his appendages rubs against your skin and for a moment, your heart begins to race.

“hobart larry brown.” you have to force your voice to remain still and firm despite the turmoil building inside you. he’s too convincing with his sly words and suggestive touches. he’s the one under the influence and here he is, influencing you.

he clicks his tongue and disappointment and pulls his hand away. much like how you would, he huffs out a breath of air and crosses his arms over his chest. out the corner of your eye, you can see his legs wide open in a manspread. “fine. be a boring conformist.”

it’s comical how fast hobie pushed you through the entryway door to your apartment. you suppose you would have laughed when you stumbled over the long laces of your air forces if the context hadn’t been so provocative. you would have giggled when hobie circles his arms around your waist and lift you in the air. instead, you consider yourself lucky that your roommates aren’t in the common space to witness this, and possibly not here at all.

regardless, hobie would have done the same. he would have paraded into your room and slammed the door shut if they were here or not. he does it now, setting you down as gently as he can manage against your bed, softened by the mattress topper and flushed sheets.

he’s impatient and you can tell because he nearly forgets to lock the door behind him. had you not reminded him, pointing to the brass doorknob, it would have escaped him entirely.

it’s in record time that he’s got your legs spread and one pushed into the comforter, knee bent and trembling in the air. he slurps and suckles your cunt, dripping in runny arousal. hobie’s is relentless, stuck in an infinite cycle of trying to milk your cunt dry despite the never ending arousal that gushes out.

you can sob and cry all you want but he isn’t deterred. if anything, it’s encouragement. it’s like positive reinforcement to taste you like this, indulging in the subtle taste of sour acidity — completely natural and hobie’s favorite drug.

back arching of the sage green bedsheets, you’re body is already spent. hobie hasn’t put a single thing inside your throbbing pussy. not his dick, not his fingers, just the wet, warm muscle of his tongue wriggling and toying with your cunt. you’re delirious after cumming three times in the last few minutes, each weaker than the last.

“icanticanticant —!” your palm comes in contact with hobie’s coarse wicks, and not for the first time either. his forehead feels warm beneath it, clammy with a thin layer of sweat from exerting such physical activity.

pop! hobie’s hand falls hot against your skin. from between your legs, he lifts his head with a scowl. his face reflects an expression you’ve never seen on him before, as if you’re stepped between him and his greatest desire. “try that shit again, bug. see what i do to you.”

you’re hesitant to move, knowing that once you do, the onslaught of his tongue would proceed again. it just barely borders a dull sensation of pain and has you convinced there’s no more you can give him so quickly and back-to-back. still, your body has been manipulated into craving him. you need more; your nerves are certain of it.

you don’t move fast enough for hobie’s liking. his stare hardens and he raises a thick brow. you’re still restricting his access when he sits up a little more. “i’m not playing with your lil’ ass. move your fuckin’ hand or i’m tying them back.”

he’s never spoken to you this way, not once. not even in your most intimate and heated moments under the privacy of the night and locked away in one of your rooms. his tone invokes a carnal desire and you comply, slowly pulling your hand away.

you sort of expect praise, some form of acknowledgment that you did something right. yet, nothing like that comes. the only that happens is the resuming of hobie’s mouth against your cunt.

#⋆౨ৎ˚⟡ 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 . . . 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 . . . 𝜗𝜚⋆ #hobie x black!reader #hobie smut #hobie brown #x black fem reader #x black reader #astv hobie #x reader #hobie x reader #hobie x y/n

[percysoddity]

Robin knew this was too good to be true. Things had been going a little too smoothly for her taste; a risk free stroll through the hell woods, the coast being totally clear of demon bats and all those other creepy ass venus fly-traps on legs that haunted her and Steve's increasingly frequent sleepovers.

What? It's not like Robin's ever had a girlfriend—sue her, she's touch starved. She's making the most of her equally desperate and clingy best friend.

The giant flesh-monster that stars in most of Robin's night terrors hasn't even made an appearance!

But it wasn't until now, as she looks down at the scorched pavement where the Big Bad should be laying, burned alive and half-blown to bits, that she realises that, 'oh. my worst fears are pretty tangible, actually'.

Because this is the age-old story of 'no body, no dice'.

If they can’t theoretically bury a body, they can’t theoretically put anything to rest.

He’s still out there.

Or not. Either way, they’ll never know, and he’ll always be haunting them. Whether in the creepy ‘I-have-government-sanctioned-mind-control-powers’ way or the plain old ‘you’ll-never-know-if-you’re-truly-safe-and-I-will-be-joining-the-revolving-door-cast-of-your-worst-nightmares’ way (along with the flesh-melty Billy Hargrove zombie and his big pet meat-spider. And Russians, of course).

Robin doesn’t look away from where Vecna/Henry/One should be, and distantly, she wonders why she isn't looking away. She's been staring at nothing but empty space a lot lately.

"We did it?" Steve shouldn't be saying that like a question, Robin muses, eyes starting to go out of focus a little.

Surely he couldn't just… reappear there.

"Yeah… We did it." Nancy manages to actually state it, but it still doesn’t feel like a fact.

Or he could. The kids said he was a wizard. And he disappeared. What’s to stop him from finishing off the magic trick? That's usually how they go, isn't it? Disappear then reappear?

"—Robin?"

"Mmm?"

Robin blinks through the haze and furrows her brow, confused. She doesn’t even have to look up to see who's speaking, Steve’s grabbed her shoulders and turned her. When the hell did he manage that without her noticing?

"Oh, thank God," Nancy gasps from her right, hand loosening on her elbow.

Oh? When did you get here?

"Are you ok?" Nancy continues, "what happened? What did you see?"

Huh? Oh. Oh.

"Ooooooh, no, no no, I didn't—that was just me," Robin scrambles to assure the clearly distressed pair getting in her face. She waves her hands either side of her temples, blowing raspberries. It feels like an especially comical action to make in the Upside Down. You can still blow raspberries in hell, whoda thunk it. She continues talking, ignoring the wayward train of thought in her head, "brain, baaah, bleeehh, uuuh, things. Spiral, or whatever."

Steve hits himself in the head and sags in relief so hard it knocks him back a step. Nancy half-catches him with a hand to the shoulder, and rolls her eyes, but Robin can't tell if the 'pinching the bridge of her nose' thing is directed at Steve's dramatics or Robin's… Whatever it is. It happens.

Robin does clock the way that Nancy pulls her hand away like she's been burned though, even after she gives Steve a very bro-y pat on the shoulder. Hmm. Maybe all that wasn't going the direction Robin thought it was, then.

Ok, so, obviously you can still blow raspberries in hell, but it’s… Like, it's the juxtaposition of it that makes it weird.

"You know," Nancy keeps going, "I think I prefer it when you spiral out loud."

Steve's gaze is stern, which is a weird look on him. "Me too, Jesus.” Then Steve turns to Nancy, a surprisingly steady hand on her shoulder. “Did you see anything like this in your… Vecna Vision or whatever?"

She shakes her head. “Maybe we’ve won. Changed it. Maybe we stopped all the rest from happening.”

Robin realises her gaze has slipped down and out again when Nancy puts her hand against the back of her neck, thumb against her jaw. Whoa. Robin’s gaze snaps up.

“Are you sure you’re ok?”

Robin hears Steve let out a breath through his nose. It’s his worried kind. The one when he’s trying to keep it together for someone else. He does it after nightmares all the time. When did Robin start to know him so well that she can categorise his breaths?

“Yeah,” he says, hand squeezing Robin’s shoulder where he’s still holding her upright, “this happens a bit. when things go a bit…”

“Fucky?”

The experience of hearing Nancy ‘The Priss’ Wheeler say ‘fucky’ out loud makes Robin bark a laugh. One that she immediately reels in.

"I—yeah, sorry guys, I didn't mean to—"

Theoretically, you could also turn your eyelids inside out in hell. Steve might be a little jumpy for pranks at the moment though, so Robin will resist. Hell, even she's jumpy right now.

Hooooo boy, shake it out, Bobby.

She shakes herself, mentally and physically, to expel the energy, and throws her thumbs up. "I'm all good. Now lets—"

An ear-splitting sound feels like it punches Robin in the back of the head, and all three of them whip around to stare into the haunted house they just escaped.

The Clock.

It fucking chimes.

on ao3!

#stranger things #robin buckley #st #fanfic #fic #stranger things fanfic #missing scene #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #ronance #steddie #EVENTUALLY #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #stranger things season 4

[slashingdisneypasta]

Jim Bickerman x Fem!Reader || Excerpt

Plot: Jim's always a little drunk (He is a 'If ya never stop, you never get a hangover!' kind of man) but he truly is comical when he's actually drunk. This is a snapshot of you trying to get him out of the bar.

Warnings: Drunkness and sexual references? Really light ones though.

Tagging: @marinerainbow and @masqueradeball. I bet you're both starting to regret letting me tag you for Jim stuff, huh? XD Haha. Kidding? 😅 I dunno-

Reba was looking at you incredulously, almost smirking at you, and you truly weren’t sure why! You wanted to ask her, what’s up? But she seemed to be onto something, in her line of questioning, so farebeat you to interrupt her. “… So, you’re on your way out now?”

“Yep.”

She takes a slow sip of her beer, only speaking again once she’s finished wiping her mouth. “Let me guess, Lance called you and told you to come remove Jim?”

You sigh. “Yep.” And you were just getting snuggly in bed with a tub of Ben & Jerries. Which is typical-

You’re distracted from your pouty thoughts by Reba’s big eyes and smug smirk again. “So, you’re taking him with you?”

“Yep!”

“And I bet you think he’s right behind you also, huh?”

… wait what. “He is behind m- “You just spent 20 minutes convincing him to leave, so he better be behind you- Goddamnit! “jIM!” He’s right over there at the bar again!!

Jim’s eyes immediately widen comically large and quick just like Captain Jack Sparrow, at seeing you notice now that he’s gone. “OH!- heh, yeah yeah yeah, peanut, I’m right behind you! Just one for the road!”

Exasperated, you go rush over again; tugging at the crook of his arm. It’s more of a meaningful gesture, though, then an attempt to drag him anywhere, and so he doesn’t move an inch. “No- “

“Just a little one!” He shows you an itty-bitty space between his thumb and his forefinger, peering at you through it. “A teeny tiny one. Please?”

“Lance isn’t gonna serve you anything, now. Not even a teeny tiny one.” You remind him, exhausted. Jim raises a finger, as if to ask to speak, but you shake your head. “Or half of one.” … after a moment of pouting, he waives a hand at you, like ‘nahhhh’, and drums his hook on the bar.

“Sure he will! I got- “He must have been about to say ‘cash’ or something, because he starts rifling through his pockets- and when the realisation that he has none dawns on him it’s a very obvious transition to watch on his face from overconfident to truly distressed. “Uh oh.”

“Mhm.”

He seems to realise something, then, and looks at you straight for the first time since you caught him back here; a sleezy, opportunistic grin on his old face. Oh lord- “Say, peanut, you wouldn’t be willing to part with about 20 bucks, wouldja? I’d be real appreciative. Do all the nice things you like.”

“Oh- sure! I do have that cash, actually. Just back here.” You grin, reaching into your back pocket and watching his eyes light up - he’s gonna get booze and sex?? What a life, right? - and peer around you, before you just leave it there. “For black coffee. At McDonalds. On the way home. To sleep.”

His face immediately falls into one of disappointment and disgust that almost makes you laugh. He’s such a toon- “Not exactly what I was gettin’ at, sweetheart.”

“Too bad, so sad. Let’s go- “Quickly, before Jim’s drunk brain can catch up and he grabs the bar or protests at all, you guide him around by the shoulders and march him towards the door. As you pass by a totally amused Reba, you flash a smile at her behind his back. “See? I got this.”

She gives a wink, humouring you. “First Place Girlfriend, you are. Hey, g’night Jimmy! Same time next week?”

You and Jim are both about to say something in response to that, when Lance the bartender who was wiping down tables in the almost-empty bar speaks up and makes you all stop in your tracks. “Nope. You’re both banned. Y/N, take her as well or you’re banned too.”

Wha- hold up what did I do?- You’re parting your lips to argue, and probably pout, when Jim leans into you so close you have to subtly hold your breath to protect yourself from his breath, and the brim of his hat brushes against your forehead. ‘Covertly’, he scratches his jaw with his thumb pretending to not be talking to you despite it being obvious to the two other people there in the silent bar. “Ehem. Warning, peanut, he is not fond of me… “

… You just pat his shoulder. “Thank you, Jim… “

#Jim Bickerman x Reader Excerpt #Jim Bickerman x Reader #Excerpt #Jim Bickerman #Lake Placid Vs Anaconda #Lake Placid Reba

[ciitrinitas]

pathfinder: wrath of the righteous [aeon].

(this is a confused few paragraphs i wrote partly right after finishing the game for the first time in september 2023 and then futzed with and wrote more right after finishing the game a second time in january 2024, so it is probably kind of incoherent! and this is an informal record of my thoughts, so i cannot be motivated to make it less incoherent.)

in a lot of ways, playing this directly after finishing bg3 was a terrible idea. bg3 has preferable gameplay for me (the scale and density of its open world was actual crack cocaine for me, and the turn-based battle system was positively lovely), but the writing has been…increasingly…eh for me. the choice by larian to soften the characters is one that especially stands out to me after playing wotr. i genuinely don’t think bg3 would have given me a character like camellia. the quality of roleplay opportunities for if you’re playing as “evil” is also stupidly better in wotr. i definitely don’t like the gameplay in wotr as much as bg3, however. the crusade mechanic is…not my friend!! (unlike camellia who is my very good friend as she repeatedly tells me!!)

i reaaaaaally like wotr. in fact, i may even love wotr. it gave me the greatest crpg character of all time: nenio. she rolls up to a group of cultists like greeting fellow worshipers of a demon lord and then unintentionally crushes their confidence to the point one cultist quits because nenio quizzed them on their knowledge of their chosen demon lord in an experiment to measure precisely that variable. and then she adopts you as her research assistant and calls you “boy” or “girl” because remembering your name is irrelevant information and nenio brain space is prime real estate your name can’t afford. her ability to instantaneously forget anything, including being drunk so she immediately sobers up, is truly iconic. she even forgot her own species. she just reaaaally wants to publish a comprehensive encyclopedia and will introduce herself as the future head of, like, every academic institution. she is my strange and funny fox friend (sometimes friends copulate!!) who does a lot of comic relief, but the end of her questline also made me cry and i legitimately adore her in all her goofiness that comes together as a character that is an actual character. i love nenio. you love nenio. we all love nenio.

there’s seriously so much more i could babble on about, but i took so damn long to write this out that i just finished my second playthrough of wotr. ._. but man, aeon…i’m really glad i picked that path for my first run. i was pretty immediately taken in by the atmosphere the dying aeon had in kenabres, and the alien, otherworldly vibes truly carried through. banishing a ton of the soldiers in drezen for a minor crime was so simple but bonkers in how empty everything felt afterwards. absolutely adored it, and the aeon-exclusive ending is definitely the canon one in my brain for the character i had been playing. 

i just love wotr so much. <3

#era.txt #2023 media #pathfinder wotr spoilers ///

[jsab-crisis]

Sad to see this comic end, but I understand why you chose to do so! I wish you the best in your future endeavors!

For the asks— how did Cyan get away from the mobsters? Did they just not contact him after he ‘killed’ Blixer? And does Cyan ever fix the relationships with his family? From what I got his siblings weren’t too pleased with him.

“After that incident, I spent most of my days in my room out of fear. I didn’t receive any call nor was I dragged into a nearby alleyway while I was out of the house, it was... quiet. Which scared me. I grew paranoid yet slowly I fell right back to my usual schedule-- I had to focus on exams...”

“One night, I was heading back to my room with my bag full of books I borrowed from the school Library. I saw my sister, Penta, and my pa’, Cube, sitting on the couch and watching TV. Usually, I just ignore it and head straight to my room but the TV caught my attention-- specifically the news channel.”

“...dead. Those mobsters were dead. I didn’t know how to respond to it. The people who had tortured me on a daily basis to do petty theft, planting fear into my head so that I’ll do what they say, threatening to harm my family if I even step out of line? They’re dead.”

“I just... stood there. Frozen. Not aware that both my dad and my sister were asking what’s wrong. Internally, I was trying to figure out how and why this happened until I remembered that stranger...”

“They were there when I fell. Saw what I was trying to do. Told me to go home and that they’ll “take care of the rest”. I never knew what they meant but looking at this now? It makes sense.”

“With this newfound ‘freedom’, I thought that I could finally live a normal life! I got good grades, sure, I was able to focus on that but I found out later on that I’m not truly... free. Those mobsters left a scar in my brain and I-- I can’t see the world how I used to see it when I was okay. When I felt safe in Paradise... isn’t that ironic?”

“I’m so scared of moving forward, so scared of maing progress-- because I fear that when I finally feel that shred of happiness; it’ll be taken away. You know what they told me? Everyday?”

“’If you don’t do what you’re told: We’ll hunt down your sisters, your brother, your uncle, and your dad. You got a girlfriend? We’ll get her too. We can take away everything you have-- on the whim. You’re going to know a new kind of miserable, kid. So just do what we tell you to do or you’re going home to an empty house.’“

“I pushed everyone away because I was so scared. Maybe if I have nothing then it’ll be painless! I was so convinced I’ll have these goons just creeping over my back that I’ve set myself up for failure... my siblings hate me-- especially Circle. God, I shouldn’t have yelled at her when she-- it was her birthday, no less! She wanted someone to say ‘Happy Birthday!’ to her because no one at school wanted to hang out with her and I just... yelled at her. I told her to go away.”

“...God, I was taking it out on them too without realizing it. I... have to make it up to them. I have to.”

(He does eventually proceed to try and fix his relationship with his family.)

#Ask #ZCArt #Crisis AU #just shapes and beats #CrisisSpeaks

[trumpetboy]

I love the way you smile.

I love the way that your eyes change from when you are looking away at your phone, driving, or anything else to when they meet mine. I love how you say so many things with them without uttering a single sound. The rocky mountaintops and the sandy valleys of your irises would take forever to map out for an explorer to not get lost. I’ve never felt such a strong emotion piercing my brain than from when you look at me. Holy fuck, how do you melt me with just one glance?

I love the way how I can never walk with both hands empty, one has to be in yours. I love when we sway back and forth as we walk. I can never go back to before because I cannot shake the knowledge that your hand was the missing piece that fit mine. How can it be that something that you once thought was full can suddenly become so empty? I grasp at the air longing for that companion puzzle piece that I know is not there. Maybe it’s swept up by a cat or too busy working on something else, but every time it leaves, all that this piece can think about is when it will return.

I love the way your hair somehow never gets messy? I mean I feel that everyone has those days where it never cooperates, but I feel that no matter what you do, it always looks amazing. I’ve seen it long, and I’ve seen it short. I’ve seen it light, and I’ve seen it dark. I don’t know what it is about you, but you have one of those faces that literally would work with anything. Hell, I’m sure you’d be stunning even with neon pink hair. My favorite color of yours is your own. Whether that be the natural hair color you have or some sort of dyed color, I love the way you absolutely own it, and will dominate any room with it. Your confidence in yourself and the way you carry yourself is like no other. When you walk in, whether it be a full head of hair or some Britney Spears incident, you are always the most beautiful woman in the room.

I love the way you laugh. Whether it be at my horrible jokes, some atrocity just occurred or I make a fool of myself, I can hear you laugh echoing in the back of my head. I love that you’re loud, I love that you speak up, and I love that I can pick out your voice amongst thousands in a room. I’d pay an ungodly amount of money if they could replicate even half of the symphony of your voice onto sheet music. I could listen to you for days, weeks, months, years, decades, centuries, …(yada yada yada, you get the point) and my ears would still find something missing if you were to stop. In addition to this, I cannot believe how much you make me laugh. You’re not funny, you’re not comical, you are absolutely hilarious, and I cannot believe how lucky I am to get the chance to spend this much time with you. We both definitely payed attention to our classes in clown college, those full ride scholarships did not go to waste.

I know this may be a little cringy, but I think you know that this is what you signed up for. You are absolutely amazing, and it is incredibly hard to fully express how I truly feel about you. I don’t want to slip into sarcasm and I don’t want to hide behind humor. I love you, and there are millions of reasons that I am the luckiest person on the planet to be with you.

#gayass

[emmmmmit]

Teasing Tasuku Hc

Hi uh

Yea its kinda, been what over maybe 2 years since I truly wrote for this Fandom

So here take my hot takes on this after being rusty

@underscorepeterparker requested

“Yoo I was gonna request for guy again buttt bullying tasuku is what you'd call a haha fortnite funny moment  may I ask for a reader who is dating tasuku but they tease the living shit out of tasuku? Like Tasuku loves them of course, but he just wants to strangle them sometimes. Sincerely, A hungry Guy stan.”

Ah bullying tasuku, my favourite pastime in this fandom. But yup- sounds chill

Brb just gonna whip out the yaycupcake profile for tasuku bc i forgor

…

Okay let's go bitches

Whenever Tasuku gets really into his part and literally becomes the character and he calls you like a different name- just like call him his characters name and don't stop

You know it was a simple mistake bc he's just a little nut head whose singular brain cell just revolves around acting

Complimenting this boy on how he looks or how he did in a recent show around others will make him fluster

Like he just walks out in one of his costumes 

“ZOO WEE MAMA”

“Do you need a dog? I can bark too” 

Or like texting him this if he texts you a picture of it

"*jaw drops to the floor, eyes pop out of sockets accompanied by trumpets, heart beats out of chest, awooga awooga sound effect, pulls chain on train whistle that has appeared next to head as steam blows out, slams fists on table, rattling any plates, bowls or silverware, whistles loudly, fireworks shoot from top of head, pants loudly as tongue hangs out of mouth, wipes comically large bead of sweat from forehead, clears throat, straightens tie, combs hair* Ahem, you look very lovely."

Go ahead, call him chad (but in a frat boy way)

“Hey y/n want to go for a run?”

“Sure chad”

“You know… nevermind”

PLEASE this boy and the way he is- 

It is well deserved

Imagine- Just imagine-

Tasuku walking in with Tsumu after going out and you see him with those bright yellow atrocities on his feet

“YO HE GOT THEM LEMON PEPPER STEPPAS ON”

Cue him sighing and Tsumu not trying to laugh

One time he just was like

“Alright I'm going to the washroom brb”

And which you thought it would be a good idea to be like

“Oh? Pissing by yourself handsome?”

Cue him sighing and pretending he didn't hear you

As well as getting him by smacking his ass

You may break your hand bc its like pure stone but- it's worth it

But it's not all for naught because he can and will get you back

What? C'mon let him get back at you

He really does love it when you tease him though because he looks back at it even if he thought it was annoying at first

Like it could just be simple banter back and forth and he really keeps it dear to his heart

like oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh the chokehold you have on this boy and his poor heart

and yea- thats it lol-My brain is empty with no ideas sorry if this sucked booty hole but like yea legit had no ideas on how to write this haha

#a3! #a3 act addict actors #a3! act! addict! actors! #a3! actor training game #a3! game #a3! headcanons #a3! x reader #a3! tasuku #tasuku takato #takato tasuku #mankai a3!

[biffhofosho]

Hello! I'm so sorry I haven't responded in awhile, I came down with the flu lol. However, I am in awe that your favorite discography is No Limit(that's mine too🥰). I hope that you enjoyed your weekend with your family, I'll try to save my longer asks for week days as to not infringe on your deserved family time.

Im excited to start working on your gift, I already have a few ideas. Bare with me as I throw random questions at you haha

What is your favorite Hyungwon photoshoot? I'd love to know, or what about a favorite Hyungwon era lol? I personally am all about Gambler and No Limit.

You mentioned listening to Mercy so I HAVE to ask, do you have other favorite tracks written by him or the rest of the boys? Speaking of the rest of the guys, what's your favorite monsta x photoshoot if you have one? They can all be the same but for me personally they're different for some of these questions which is why I ask.

Anyway, I tried to keep this message rather short as to not consume too much of your time, Biff. However, during the days between responses, I wish you good heath and lovely days💚

xox mbb Secret Santa

The flu??? NO! I hope you are recovering well and that it wasn't too bad! But I did miss you, so I'm glad you're feeling well enough to send me another ask. <3

Hahaha, you were concerned about taking up too much of my time, but the joke's on you, babe: I can't do anything in a timely fashion when it comes to the Monstas. This reply has taken me an hour and a half legit because after collecting six years' worth of content, it's easy to get so lost in it. MBB are so spoiled. *sobs*

(Also, that's not a complaint. I had fun, but I promise that this is a lot more than you bargained for loooooooooooooool.)

Oh boy, gifties! Let's do this! ;)

Favorite Hyungwon photoshoot? In order to answer this, I had to endure the pain of going back through my comically large Hyungwon folder, and it was nothing but pain, but I endured for you, dear Santa. Since I am forced to choose, I will go with either the newest Dazed magazine shoot, which I imported a copy of, you better believe (heh heh), or his spread in Xiesta, which I just MIRACULOUSLY acquired a copy of after a full year of searching (mbb be going to their graves with that photobook in hand).

Evidence A:

Evidence B:

Don't let this confuse you though--my all time FAVORITE boy looks (and this goes for all the MX boys, though I'm in a mood now thanks to having to comb my folder, so I'm gonna double-down on the HW ham here) are:

1) [most fave] white tee/jeans (bonus points, ballcap)

2) GLASSES.

3) Hoodies

4) Candid boyfriend looks

5) One-of-a-kind features

(Hyungwon's lip freckle and his special ear make me scream incoherently into the abyss on the regular just like Wonho's bellybutton freckle or Minhyuk's slow blink or Kihyun's lip corner beauty mark do.)

Favorite era for Wonnie though??????? Okay, the ones you named are top-tier to be sure, but as far as I'm concerned his era for me is now. I've never seen him living so bravely or truly, and it is doing all kinds of funny things to my brain. He's grown into such a confident man that it has me, a very confident woman, quaking.

My other favorite Hyungwon tracks are "Nobody Else" and "Wildfire." Head empty. Only Hyungwon. Oof. As far as other songs: "Night View" destroys me; "Kiss or Death" remains my favorite MV and I absolutely HATE that that gem of a song was relegated to the Universe app and I never even got my gd choreo; "Love" in headphones is a masterpiece; "Champagne" is my fave Japanese track; and "Monsta Truck" is my fave OT7 song.

Favorite group shoots are: OT7 - Are You There? album shoots, specifically Versions II & III

(Is my bias showing??? haha)

OR

Fatal Love shoots, specifically this one where they are all millionaire CEOs:

And the Chillax Mode photobook (though the MX University is a close runner-up as well).

Sorry this was excessive. I spiral easily. ;) Forgive me?

Real talk: I love that we have so many things in common! You are the perfect Santa for me, beloved! <3 And as you can see, you remained anon! I have been TERRIFIED of doing that myself. I check and re-check and re-re-check before I send mine lol!

Have a wondrous day/night/twilight/whatever, my precious Santa!

#asks #new friend #secret santa #my santa has immaculate taste #i went overboard #i'm sorry they just make me do that

[melancholiaenthroned]

10 characters | 10 fandoms | 10 tags

i was tagged by @bladeofavernus tyyyy<3 i rlly struggled to think of 10 fandoms im currently in (that had characters i care a lot about. sorry malevolent) but this was fun! not tagging 10 ppl bc im insecure and dont want to be a bother but ! not in any particular order but here they r

michelle carter (dc comics) the realization that i can only pick one dc character for this... so scary. idk if michelle is my favorite dc character ever but shes certainly up there and right now shes at the top of my brain... what does it mean to walk out of the fridge... what does it mean when everyone remembers you dying except for you... hes mourned you but youre back and you didnt even know you were gone... funerals are for the living....

paige duplass (the silt verses) my girlllll augh. augh. my false prophet... its been going not great for her lately and every scene with her recently makes me want to rip my heart out and sob and sob and sob. she just wants to fix the whole world. is that too much to ask. it might be. ill support her forever tho idc if her godchild fucks up and destroys the whole earth i will always be on her side. she went to business school shes a star employee shes an alcoholic shes mother mary. shes everything

amanda young (saw) you knew she was gonna be here i love her so bad. ive spoken at length about amanda before u all know my thoughts. saw iii you will always be famous

jung heewon (orv) thought id throw in a recent interest even tho im still no where done orv^_^ jhw is my favorite so far ever since her scene where she first used judgement day... i love the avenging angel type of character esp the way she does it (attack dog baby!) and i love her dynamic with the rest of the group.

kim kitsuragi (disco elysium) everyday i am thinking about him if you dont see me post about him know that im still thinking about him. i miss him bad

clara (pathologic) shes just a baby... i love her... i love a girl who is silly but so tragic i love a girl who was born in an empty grave i love a girl with frightening powers she doesnt understand i love a girl placed in a situation outside of her control who is still blamed when it goes wrong.

apollo (wildstorm) doesnt count as dc ok. im reaching here im rlly not into that many things its mostly just dc comics. but its his wildstorm self i actually care about sooo counting it. i miss when he killed ppl

calroy cruller (dimension 20) sorry im gonna be a calroy head forever probably hes so special to me. i love villain monologues i love treason i love betrayal.

sasha (borderlands) not into borderlands anymore but she makes this list bc sasha isnt a borderlands character to me ok shes a dear friend. i love her forever even if i will probably never play those games again. ok thats a lie but ill probably never talk about them online again. ok thats a lie too

eddie brock (marvel) it was truly a struggle to think of ten fandoms i currently care about um. i dont even like current venom comics. but eddie will always be special to me i love u insane girl<3

not tagging anyone today im way too tired to think of ppl sorryyyy but if u want to do this just say i tagged u 👍

#poison.txt #tyyyyyyy again for tagging me^_^

[kudosmyhero]

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (IDW) #4: Change Is Constant - part 4

Read Date: July 30, 2022 Cover Date: November 2011 ● Writer: Kevin Eastman ◦ Tom Waltz ● Art: Dan Duncan ● Colorist: Ronda Pattison ● Letterer: Shawn Lee ● Editor: Scott Dunbier ●

Synopsis: Cornered in the park, Raph and Casey are approached by the gang's leader, Old Hob. The sight of Hob triggers a repressed memory in Raph, who recalls Hob (as a cat) trying to eat him before getting attacked by Splinter. Casey tells Raph to snap out of it as the gang moves in under Hob's orders to pulverize the two.

Fifteen months ago. At StockGen labs, Baxter Stockman gets a damage assessment from Chet regarding the ninja break-in. Though the terrapin exo-suit armor samples remain, the psychotropic serum was lost with Splinter and the traces of super soldier mutagen recovered from the alley have been tainted beyond use. Baxter is infuriated, as the ninja belonged to a rival of General Krang, who provided him with his secret mutagen at great risk; Krang won't like this news one bit. Chet suggests that if they can find Splinter, they can regain both the psychotropic drug and the mutagen from his blood. Baxter laughs at the idea of tracking down a single rat in New York City, but a slimy, furry, one-eyed individual comes crawling into the lab, assuring them he can do it: Old Hob.

At a police station, April tries to explain the ninja break-in to the cops, who are reluctant to buy her story. While relating the events, she recalls that it was Splinter who pulled the fire alarm and saved her life. Meanwhile, down in the sewers, the now-mutated Splinter tells his three Turtle sons to hurry up and make some distance between themselves and the lab. The Turtles recognize Splinter as their father, but don't remember their previous lives. Splinter explains that all will become clear in time and decides that their new lives requires new names, so he gives them the ones April had ascribed to them: Leonardo, Donatello and Michelangelo. More importantly, though, they must find their missing brother, Raphael.

Back to the present, Casey and Raph (who doesn't know he's Raph) are holding their own against Hob's thugs, but the numbers eventually overwhelm them. Casey is taken down by a brick to the head while Hob pistol-whips Raph into submission. Hob is about to blow Raph's brains out when a series of shuriken strike him in the arm. The other three Turtles have made it just in time and demand Hob back off. Hob isn't about to go back to Stockgen empty-handed and savagely attacks Raph while the other Turtles deal with the last of the gang. Raph pummels Hob and is only prevented from killing him by Leo. The three Turtles tell Raph his name and memories come flooding back. Momentarily, Casey recovers and is shocked to see four mutant Turtles instead of the one.

Down in the sewers, Raph is finally reunited with his father. Giving Raph a hug, Splinter announces that now things can truly begin…

(https://turtlepedia.fandom.com/wiki/Change_is_Constant,_part_4)

Fan Art: TMNT by SHadoW-Net

P.S. HAPPY NEW YEAR!

#idw #idw comics #my idw read #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #comics #comic books #fan art #fanart #podcast - shellheads

[catjacket-scribbles]

ok but what about early m9 + essek where they annoyed him with teleportation shenanigans except they’re all in college and he’s the only one with a car

#critical role #c2 #criticalrolefanart #might nein #essek thelyss #truly a no brain head empty comic #this is the edited pic cause the first one fucking said caesar saland #can you see the crushes in the last pic #essek drives a Honda pilot #m9 college au

[dilfdoctordoom]

On Tom Taylor, the Current Nightwing Run & Ableism

I did mention I was gonna do a post about it, so here we are. There are some things I want to make clear before we begin: the issue exploded on Twitter on the very first day of disabled Pride month; disabled people have been discussing the ableism in Taylor’s Nightwing run since it began; nobody has blamed Taylor for what happened to Barbara in 2011. We are, however, blaming him for the way she is written in his series during 2021. 

I am also going to be discussing the ableism in the fandom in this post. The reactions I have seen, from here to Twitter to TikTok, are showing not only a great misunderstanding of the situation, but a purposeful misunderstanding. The very real reasons disabled people are angry right now have been twisted to make us seem ridiculous and overly sensitive and I cannot help but feel that is very intentional.

Another quick addition: disabled people are not a monolith. Barbara Gordon spent over 20 years as a paralyzed wheelchair user. Stating (and I would like to note, never truly showing) that she is a part time cane user now is still erasing her disability. These things are not interchangeable.

So, with that out of the way, let’s begin.

Tom Taylor’s run is ableist. That is a fact of this situation. He made the active choice to include a version of Barbara Gordon that is ableist caricature. Story wise, the role that Barbara plays could have easily been filled by anyone else. There is no real season, within the narrative and outside of it, for Taylor to include this version of Barbara Gordon, who has received a decade of criticism from disabled people. It’s very well known that this iteration is problematic, to put it kindly, and Taylor is aware of that. 

He made the active decision to include her, anyway, showing, at the very least, that he is passively, if not actively, ableist. Passive ableism is still ableism and disabled people are allowed to take issue with that.

That alone is reason enough for disabled people to be angry. But that’s not why things exploded on Twitter.

On July 1st, the very first day of disabled pride month, the new design for Barbara was dropped. After months of teasing Barbara’s return to a wheelchair using Oracle (see: Last Days of The DC Universe, Batgirl (2016), etc), they debuted... a new Batgirl costume that the artist has openly said draws inspiration from the Burnside suit.

There’s a lot of issues to unpack here, so let’s start small: the issue with consciously calling back to Burnside. The Burnside era of Batgirl stories was... beyond awful. The villain of the series’ first arc, was an AI based on Barbara’s brain patterns when she was disabled. It was evil because of all the rage and pain Barbara felt. The actual Barbara, on the other hand, was good -- because she was able bodied. Because her PTSD had been tossed aside. It was a horrifically ableist era that drove the idea that Barbara’s life was terrible when she was disabled; that it was some horrible, twisted secret.

Comics have kept that narrative going. Barbara is seen hiding books on chronic pain; she reacts aggressively to the mere idea that she could be in a wheelchair again, acting like it would be weakness. Whereas Barbara had once been Oracle not because of, but in spite of, her disability, who was fantastic representation for the disabled community, she now acts like it is the most shameful thing in her life.

To call back to Burnside is to call back to that ableism and make no critique of it. If anything, it’s to embrace the ideas of that era.

There is also the design itself to consider. Many people have pointed out the inclusion of a back brace, as if that saves it from ableism -- it does not. Any person who has ever worn a back brace can take one look at this design and know that they did not consult a disabled person. Hell, by how impractical that thing is, I doubt they even Googled a picture of a back brace.

It’s a superficial acknowledgement that Barbara is supposed to be disabled. Something that was apparently thrown in to appease the numerous complaints of Barbara being able bodied; something that no one working on it put any effort into.

When it comes to aids, this is not a new thing for Barbara in Infinite Frontier. She’s said to be using a cane occasionally, that we got a better look at in Batman: Urban Legends, and as any cane user can tell you... that is not a cane that could feasibly be used. It’s another pathetic attempt to acknowledge that Barbara is supposed to be disabled, without actually doing anything of importance.

[IMAGE ID:  A segmented cane with a tri-pointed handle with a wrist strap. There is a stripe across the sections to connection them, labelled “solar battery charger buttons”. The text reads: “telescoping antenna doubles as cane or weapon if needed”. END ID]

Dropping this design (which we have now established to be problematic) on the very first day of disabled pride month is a sickening move. The very first day, and DC has doubled down on their disability erasure, thrown in superficial things like a back brace to act like it’s fine.

Tom Taylor is definitely involved in this, whether you like it not. No, he is not in anyway responsible for the events of the New 52 and what they did to Barbara Gordon, but that does not absolve him of blame for what is currently being done to her in his run.

When the design dropped, it started trending due to disabled fans reactions. To be clear: we were directly calling out the ableism in this design. This was Tom Taylor’s response:

[IMAGE ID: A tweet from TomTaylorMade that says: “Hey, @Bruna_Redono_F I think our new Batgirl suit is getting some attention.” He then adds a winky face emoji and tags @jesswchen and @drinkpinkkink. Attached are a screenshot showing that Batgirl is trending in the United States and a picture of the design itself. END ID]

This is him, bragging about how the disabled community reacted. Perhaps before this tweet, you could’ve made an argument that he was not ableist, but after he flaunted the fact that disabled people were rightly furious over this, like it was something to be proud of? No. If you are defending him, you are a part of the problem.

Taylor has included ableist writing in his Nightwing run, beyond the inherent ableism that comes with the current iteration of Barbara Gordon (whose inclusion, yet again, is his decision).

[IMAGE ID: A panel from Nightwing #79. Barbara and Dick are standing in his apartment. Barbara is saying: “I have some pretty new technology holding my spine together. I’m happy to do most things -- eat pizza in the park, take down low-level thugs -- but leaping from rooftops seems... unwise.” END ID]

What Barbara says in the panel above has bothered a lot of disabled people. The implication that she couldn’t “eat pizza in the park’ and “take down low-level thugs” without a spinal implant that conveniently erases her disability is... fucked up, to put it mildly. Those are both things that Barbara has done in a wheelchair. The first one is something wheelchair users can do and the implication that it’s not is beyond offensive.

But, let’s leave Barbara behind for a moment. I have previously mentioned that disabled people have been discussing the ableism present in this run long before July -- and that ableism is not only centred on Barbara. Dick is also a player in all this.

Dick Grayson was shot in the head. I don’t believe I need to retread the story, but just in case: Dick was shot in the head by KGBeast, developed amnesia from the event, and went by Ric Grayson for a long enough period in comics. If you have been active within the DC fandom for the past year or so, you know all about this controversial storyline and its fallout.

The Ric Grayson arc concluded itself the issue before Taylor became the writer for the series and ever since his tenure has begun, Taylor has completely ignored the reality of Dick being a disabled man. We understand this is comics, that things do not function the way they do in our world, but still -- it is clear that this gunshot wound to the head has affected Dick massively. We had an entire arc dedicated to how he struggled to find himself in the aftermath.

Taylor is choosing to write Dick as an able-bodied man, despite his canonical injuries and how they would impact his life.

This man is choosing to give empty gestures towards Barbara being a disabled woman (as discussed above, the completely dysfunctional back brace, etc) whilst writing her as able-bodied as possible. He writes both Dick and Barbara as able bodied as humanly possible. That is ableist. He is ableist. This is the same man that said he made a dog disabled ‘in honour of Barbara’. I do not think I need to elaborate on why that is bad.

The least he could’ve done, was get a sensitivity reader. We know that Taylor is not beyond getting people from marginalized communities to consult on his work (see: Suicide Squad), so why, when writing two characters that should be disabled, one that the disabled community have been criticising for a decade, does he not reach out to a single disabled person? A mere Google search could’ve improved the situation massively. In both the new design and the current writing, it is beyond clear that this is not just an able-bodied person writing it -- it’s an ableist person.

He could have listened to the numerous disabled fans that spoke out. Instead, he chose not only to refuse to do that, but to describe justifiable anger as ‘raging’. He treated us like we were crazy for daring to speak out about blatant ableism being parading around of us in our pride month.

Tom Taylor has failed to do the bare minimum and in doing so, he is, at very, very least, guilty of complicity. Again: passive ableism is still ableism.

The argument at hand is not just about Barbara Gordon and the continuing ableism that shines out from her current writing. The argument is about the treatment of disabled characters in his run. It has also become about the way he treats physically disabled people.

We also can’t have this conversation without acknowledging the fandom’s role in it all. I waited a day to write this up, to allow all the reactions to flood in... and I am sickened.

We have everything across the board. Able-bodied people that have actually listened to disabled people, who have supported us (which is deeply appreciated). Able-bodied people who may have had good intentions, but a skewed sense of the situation and perpetuating some of the more insidious lies being spread around (IE. that this is only about the new costume).

There are, obviously, the ableist reactions, though, that we will be discussing here. People deeming the current issues as ‘crazy’, calling disabled people ‘overly sensitive’ and ‘delusional’. Many people have completely glossed over the examples given for why Taylor, specifically, is ableist, and instead have resorted to telling disabled people that we are wrong and should be mad at DC instead.

It’s important to note that Tom Taylor is an adult man. He doesn’t need a fandom to attack disabled people for daring to call him out. He is not the victim in this situation; he has, for quite a few disabled people, been the aggressor.

I have seen claims that Infinite Frontier is a ‘slow burn’, implying that disabled people need to patient... as if we have not waited a decade for less ableist writing. There is a complete refusal from able-bodied fans to actually listen to what disabled people are saying. They would much rather rush to the defence of the (honestly rather mediocre) current Nightwing run. 

Disabled fans know that comic book spaces are ableist. We know that both DC and Marvel and many of their writers are ableist. We are still allowed to be pissed as hell about it and acting like the current reaction being had right now is disabled people being ‘overdramatic’ is yet another example of how the able-bodied side of the fandom both refuses to listen to and undermine disabled people when we call out ableism.

We know it when we see it. We always do and we always will and we will always be able to recognize it far faster than an able-bodied person. If this many disabled fans are coming out and talking about an issue, calling it ableism, then it’s time for you shut up and listen.

Stop being a part of the problem and start supporting disabled fans for once.

#barbara gordon #dick grayson #nightwing #batgirl #tom taylor #tw ableism #okay to rb

[7teenkarat]

M is for Murder

Synopsis: A study in which you find out that the young man you occasionally solve mysteries with is actually wanted for murder. 

Genre: non-idol au, mystery, crumbs of an unrequited love

Warnings: graphic imagery (murder crime scene), language

WC: ~3K

A/N: Okay but imagine THE trickster aka. seventeen’s swindler aka. satan’s hyung aka. yoon jeonghan as the main lead in a murder mystery? Sherlock Holmes’ successor? Color me hornKNEE-

Study 1: Yoon Jeonghan. An eccentric young man with a penchant for mysteries and a reputation of murder. 

“Wanted for what?”

“Murder,” he supplies, taking a bit of his apple. The sharp crunch punctuates his confession.

His nonchalant tone and demeanor is at odds with the levity of his admission, further adding evidence to the theory that this is all some fucked up dream your sleep-deprived brain came up with tonight. You really gotta stop watching Dateline before bed.

As if sensing your speculation, Jeonghan picks out a seed from the apple core and flicks it at you.

The offending object lands perfectly above your nose bridge giving you a faux unibrow, the sticky juice keeping it adhered to your skin. Jeonghan grins, mouthing score, before taking another bite of his apple. The complete apathy he shows towards his supposed crime is baffling.

“Murder?” you repeat, as if you had misheard him the previous 4 times. 

He just grunts in acknowledgement, flipping through your Netflix account and occasionally frowning at your poor taste in cinematic choice.

You continue to gape at him, mouth open comically wide, as your brain attempts to match your stereotypical impression of a vicious stone-cold killer with the current image of this Jeonghan slouched across your sofa, halfheartedly watching Family Guy.

Your brain fails to compute.

“Jeonghan, listen, if this is some weird roleplaying shit for one of our cases now is not the time-”

“Roleplaying? Really, Y/N, is that what you truly think of me? That I’d joke about this matter? When I come begging at your door, seeking refuge at my darkest hour…well, I’d never! Is this the way you treat all of your friends, my dear Freida Khalo?” he interrupts with a dramatic gasp, jumping to his feet with a flourish.

You just watch him, deadpan. Throughout the past year of knowing Yoon Jeonghan, you’ve learned that it’s quickest and less painful to let his theatrics run its full course before attempting to rationalize with him.

“The last time you invited me over for dinner, I found you splayed out across your living room floor face first in a puddle of your own ketchup-blood.”

“Not ketchup, that would be entirely unconvincing. It was a mixture of ketchup, corn syrup, and cocoa mix. It’s hard to replicate the exact viscosity of blood, you know.”

You roll your eyes as he fully proves your point, heading into the kitchen to grab a well-deserved drink. Jeonghan trails after you, grabbing two shot glasses from your cupboard. For as often as the two of you hang out, as far as you’re aware he’s never been over to your place before - the two of you instead opting to meet at your makeshift “office” downtown which was rented out under a fake alias (Jeonghan’s idea).

You don’t know how he knows exactly which cupboard is the glass cupboard, nor do you want to know. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had done a full recon of your apartment. Hell, how did he even get your address?

That was the kind of weird shit that this little gremlin did. That and murder, apparently.

Reminded again of exactly why you were sitting in your kitchen taking shots with the man in question at 2:41 a.m. on a Tuesday morning, you let out a groan before one-shotting your whiskey.

The glass makes a dull thud as you set it down on your table with a wince and a cough. Jeonghan takes a sip of his glass (as how most humans consume their hard liquor) and merely raises a delicate eyebrow at you, looking between your contorted face and the now empty glass but wisely decides to withhold comment.

This somehow manages to irk you more. You wish he didn’t have to still look so damn good sipping Walmart whiskey from a shot glass with a slutty Elmo in a skimpy green bikini branded across its front. 

With liquid courage now coursing through your veins, you pin him down with a stare as you choose your next few words carefully. Jeonghan waits for you patiently with a solemn look on his face, looking purely angelic.

Again, you’re reminded of Dateline warning just how charming serial killers could be.

Fuck you, you want to say. Stop pulling me into your crazy shenanigans. Handle it yourself. I’m not interested. But those words die in your chest as you look at the man across the table, heartbreakingly handsome even in ragged clothing and running on only 4 hours of sleep.

You’d do anything for Jeonghan, but you’ve always thought you’d meant that in the least literal sense of the phrase. The same way you’d do anything for your cat, or for your weird aunt who smells like stale cookies but never fails to give you pocket money every holiday.

But you’ve just come to realize how literal your feelings truly were. 

When he moved back to your town, his childhood town, last year and you met him for the first time, you couldn’t have been more appalled by the audacious flamboyance of this man.

You two were utterly polarizing - him, a connoisseur of the eclectic and fantastical, and you, a stark realist whose goal was to make capitalism your bitch.

He had left your small community at a young age and grew up educated at all the top foreign institutions since primary school, yet balked at the idea of inheriting the family’s diamond mining business (much to his father’s chagrin). You were a product of your town’s local public school system - a hustler who ate, slept, and breathed ambition. He was a self proclaimed angel and might actually very well be considering how he managed to charm everyone into doing his (slightly nefarious) bidding. You needed at least 6 cups of coffee and 12 hours of sleep before you could even attempt to be 20% as charming as him. He liked dogs, you liked cats.

For all intents and purposes, you two were oil and water. 

But one thing bound the two of you together, tighter than any life philosophy or law of chemistry: you both had a penchant for mystery. Agatha Christie, Sherlock Holmes, Scooby-Doo, you name it. You were both obsessed with making sense of nonsense - to make the impossible possible. You found in each other a kindred spirit - someone who enjoyed the game as much as you.

For all intents and purposes, you should have hated each other.

But…you didn’t. In fact, at least on your end and you suspected perhaps a little bit on his end as well, you very strongly felt the opposite. So eventually, all those minor differences came to naught and you both found yourselves seeking each other’s company once, twice, a few times, then daily. You were the Watson to his Sherlock, as he would often fondly proclaim after the pair of you would successfully solve a mystery. You two reveled in bringing each other small mysteries to solve.

But to you, the greatest mystery of all was this enigma of a man sitting in front of you. If there was one thing you learned about Jeonghan over the course of this year, it’s that trouble seems to seek him out just as eagerly as he does it. Usually his storytelling methods were always a bit more…interactive than yours (hence the ketchup blood incident), but they were harmless. Always harmless.

So imagine your surprise when he showed up breathless, in some strangers’ clothes he’d swiped from the street, knocking frantically at your door with the proposition of adventure.

A proclamation of murder.

Yet the most appalling part was not that you’d willingly let in a potential criminal at the mere sight of his smile, nor was it his unnerving indifference considering how much shit he was in for running from the cops - regardless of his possible innocence. No, the most appalling part was when your initial shock eventually dwindled to a sickening realization that you, in fact, didn’t really care if he was guilty or not. He was your person and you’d do anything for him, including cover up a murder.

The thought of how tightly Yoon Jeonghan has you wrapped around his finger sends your eyes into a rhythmic spasm as you contemplate what charges you might incur for potentially murdering a murder suspect.

Instead you sigh, mentally preparing yourself for whatever crazy adventure this man was hellbent on dragging you into this time.

“Okay, so murder. Want to walk me through how, exactly, you came to be the prime suspect of a murder case?”

“Well it all starts with a corgi, one croissant, and a missing flower pot,” Jeonghan, in full storyteller mode, leans in and steeples his fingers with the devious grin he gets when he finds something particularly galvanizing. 

“Saturday proved to be a horrible day, what with my mother tricking me into joining her hot yoga class. Not that I don’t like yoga, but there was nothing and no-one “hot” about it. Talk about serious clickbait.” 

Jeonghan clears his throat nervously as he takes note of your unamused expression and the way your hand without the whiskey glass twitches as if to smack the hot hell out of him. He rushes to continue.

“Back to the point. Saturday sucked so on Sunday I decided to go to the dog park for some much needed R&R. As I was on my way back home, I was walking past the alley that leads to the old churchyard when I heard the most awful keening sound. As the Second Coming of Sherlock, it was of course my duty to go and investigate. So I walked deeper into the alley, and there I’m met with the glorious sight of the biggest, juiciest, phattest butt.”

This time you do smack the hot hell out of Jeonghan’s arm, causing him to yelp and scoot a safe distance away from any other swinging limbs. 

He shoots you a pout which transforms into a somber look as he recounts what happened next. “The butt belonged to an egregiously fat corgi, which also turned out to be the source of the keening noise. It was nosing and pawing at a lump of something just behind the trash bin. I tried to get closer but it kept growling and making that awful crying sound. So I then tried to lure it away with some leftover croissant I had in my pocket, but I guess corgi’s don’t like french patisseries because that only made him stress out more. As a last resort I crumbled it into a ball and threw it far away towards the churchyard, to which the chub finally left the thing by the bin to go chase after the croissant. Only the closer I came, the sooner I came to realize. It wasn’t a something, but rather a someone.”

The hairs on your arm start to raise, as you listen half appalled and half enthralled. Jeonghan barely sends you a second glance as he’s swept back into the gruesome memory.

“She was…mangled. There were dirt stains on her clothes and heavy bruising on both her wrists and throat, suggesting struggle antemortem. Cause of death: cut to the throat and blood loss.”

His face is carefully blank as he describes the body, adopting an almost clinical tone as if you two were still playing your usual mystery game. 

You feel a lump form in your throat. “Jeonghan-” you croak, but he continues to speak over you.

“I had my phone out and was about to call the authorities when I saw something white and pink. She was gripping something in her right hand. I was leaning closer to inspect it when that damn corgi came back, and this time with a witness in tow.”

He let out a heavy sigh, running his palm across his forehead like he usually does when he gets frustrated.

“I lost my chance to examine the body up-close, but decided to stick around and wait for the cops in case I could help give them some crucial clues to the perpetrator by looking at the bruising patterns and the item in her hand. At first I was waiting in the tent, but then they asked to move me to the vehicle to go back to the station. No one would tell me why, but you know I can read lips. The officers were talking about how I was the main murderer suspect, and that I should be treated with extreme caution.”

You can’t help it as your nerves get the best of you and a laugh bubbles out of your mouth.

“Just because you found the body doesn’t mean you did it. Where’s the hard evidence? That’s such an elementary conjecture.”

You glance at him, hoping for him to confirm your statements, to laugh along with you. Don’t be silly, Y/N! Obviously I didn’t do it!

But all he does is stare back at you with those solemn, doe eyes.

“I don’t have an alibi, Y/N.”

Jeonghan says softly, and you feel your world tilt on its axis.

“I had snuck out early from my house to avoid my mom, which means neither she nor the household attendants can verify that I was home from 5-8 a.m. I was last seen at the park, but for all they know I could have murdered her, circled around through the shortcut that runs from the churchyard to the dog park, and no-one would be the wiser.”

“But surely it’s just conjecture at this point. So what if you were first on scene, or that you recognized the weapon? Sure it’s suspicious, but that doesn’t automatically pin you for murder.”

He hums, conceding to your point. ”But this young lady was choked and assaulted, throat slit from ear to ear, using a shard from my neighbor’s broken flower pot.”

You flinch at his blunt words. He glances at you but soldiers on.

“A flower pot that I helped plant when Mrs. Zarrelli threw out her back. One that has all my prints over it, that had gone missing two weeks ago only for a shard of it to be found, as the murder weapon, at the scene of a most grisly crime.”

Jeonghan leans back, arms crossed, watching you. Testing you. Waiting to see if you’d arrive at the same conclusion that he has. 

“...So you’re saying you were framed,” you finish for him. He just keeps staring at you, so you take that as your cue to continue. “The preliminary hypothesis would be that there is someone out there who wants you arrested. Or detained. At the very least, occupied.”

Your brows knit together, ring finger circling the rim of your whiskey glass as your brain puzzles out just exactly what the motive could have been.

“Then again, their choice of scapegoat could have been coincidental. But it’s unlikely given the peculiar choice of a murder weapon. It was chosen to make you the culprit, not just anybody who stumbled across the crime scene. It was made to seem as if you had murdered her in a fit of emotional rage rather than out of premeditated intent.”

“Yes,” Jeonghan murmurs, the mischievous glint returning to his eyes. You pause, head tilting as you continue to puzzle out the pieces he’s laid in front of you.

“Originally, this would suggest one of two things. One, the murderer had wanted to commit the crime and needed a set-up, and had chosen you, for whatever reason, to incriminate. Or two, the murderer had wanted to incriminate you, for whatever reason, and needed to commit a crime for the set-up. Given the careful, almost painstakingly-detailed lengths the culprit has gone through to make sure you would be found at the scene of the crime, with no alibi, and indisputable evidence, I’m inclined to believe the latter is true. And if the latter is the true motive, then the heart of the crime lies not with the murderer, nor the victim. It lies with-”

“-me.” Jeonghan finishes for you, satisfied with your analysis.

“They knew where you would be, and that you would have to investigate. That means either it’s someone who knows you well enough to predict your next steps, or they’ve been watching you for long enough to ascertain it.”

“Which means either I’m trusting someone I shouldn’t be, or I’ve got myself a stalker.” Jeonghan contemplates, shooting you a bemused look.

“I must say, I’m slightly flattered. I didn’t really think I was handsome enough to warrant such a grand confession. Maybe my hair stylist was right - red really is my color.”

“This isn’t funny, Jeonghan.” You wish you could reach across the table and shake that stupid bravado right out of him. “Someone wants you locked behind bars, and is willing to kill for it. You’re already a prime suspect and running away doesn’t really help you look innocent.”

“Exactly.” he simply replies, his expression morphing into that of more devil than angel. “My secret admirer has gone through the trouble of setting up the chess board and making the first move. It would be poor manners on my part not to respond.”

The answer is so purely Jeonghan that, despite the macabre story he’d just told and the peril he’s certain to bring, it tugs at your heartstrings a little. 

He shoots you that Cheshire grin that promises danger and thrill, and you’re certain he already knows your answer. Perhaps he’d known the moment you opened your door, or even before then when he’d first discovered the body and his immediate reaction was to call not the police but you. Perhaps he’d known from the moment he’d first laid eyes on you - stubbornly seated in a corner nook, reading Murder on the Orient Express at the community Christmas party. 

You, who could never refuse a good mystery. You, who could never refuse Jeonghan.

You swear slutty Elmo winks at you.

“So, whaddya say? Care to join me, Watson?”

Hi everyone! Thanks so much for reading. This is my first seventeen fanfic so I’d appreciate any feedback (both good or bad!)

And as always please feel free to send in requests ~Nini

#seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen ships #seventeen mtl #seventeen astrology #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan scenario #scoups #seventeen joshua #wonwoo #hoshi #woozi #jun #mingyu #the8 #dk #dokyeom #seungkwan #vernon #dino #scenarios #caratwritersclub #svt #svt scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen oneshot

[dakotacrisis]

Topsy Turvy

Hyper-fixation has been activated! Who needs to work on their wips when they can start something else entirely? Hahaha...it’d be funny if it wasn’t true.

Anyhoo! Saw this cute comic by @hannahyonana and my goblin brain latched on and wouldn’t let it go. So I give you this unofficial expansion of this wonderful comic. In short: these children are disasters in more ways than one.

---

Two weeks. That is how long Adrien would be gone. Two long and painful weeks without seeing his face or hearing his voice. Pictures and videos were well and good but they were no proper substitute for the real thing.

Marinette came to the train station to see him off and steal a few more blessed minutes with him before he departed on his work trip/vacation. She had tried to convince Alya and Nino to come so she wasn’t totally alone with him but they already had plans. Marinette hadn't heard about any plans before this so she could only assume this was another Alya scheme to give Marinette a chance to confess.

Marinette had thought about it. Telling Adrien how she felt would get a lot off this nervous tension and anxiety off her chest. He didn’t even need to respond or give her an answer. Just having him know would be enough.

But could she do it? She had tried countless times before to no avail. What made this different?

Adrien and her walked along the platform full of people bustling to get here and there. Marinette gripped the box of macarons her parents made for Adrien behind her back.

The Gorilla took Adrien’s luggage and carried it onto the train. He looked back to see if Adrien was following.

"You go on ahead, I want to say goodbye real quick." Adrien ushered his bodyguard away. The Gorilla looked between them and with a curt nod of his head disappeared inside the train.

Adrien turned back to Marinette. His hair was stylishly tousled and his smile bright and beaming. Could the boy stop modeling for even a second? How was anyone meant to keep their wits about them with that thousand watt smile?

"Thanks for coming to see me off, Mari." Adrien said.

"Of course," Marinette replied, shuffling from foot to foot. "Even if you're only gone for two weeks…"

She brought the box out from behind her back and held it out to him. "Also, this is for you from my parents. A little something to snack on during the ride."

"What! That's so sweet! Literally." Adrien took the box with glee. "Be sure to give them my thanks."

"I will,"

BEE-BOOP!

The pair looked up at the sudden sound.

"Oh, that means it's time for me to go," Adrien said with a small shake of his head.

Gone again. In just another minute he'd be out of her reach once more. Even after all this time saying goodbye felt so hard. He was only going to be gone for two weeks! He was gonna come back! Why did it hurt so much being away from him?

That familiar weight settled on her chest. So many feelings left unspoken. Secrets she was dying to share. It felt like they were smothering her.

"Before you go," Marinette halted him before he could enter the train, "I have something to tell you."

"Oh yeah?" Adrien tilted his head like a curious little puppy. Why did he have to be so cute? Marinette was sweating he was so cute. Or maybe that was just her inner terror at what she was about to say.

"Well I--you see--I…" Marinette stammered and lost her nerve, "I uh, make sure to send us pictures."

"Of course!" Adrien responded with glee. "Alright well, see you later, Marinette."

He turned to get on the train and Marinette’s heart sank. Another chance at happiness, wasted. Perhaps it was for the best.

She forced her feet to move, to carry her from this painful moment. When they did though they didn't back away. They surged forward. She was barely aware that she had reached out for Adrien until she grabbed the back of his shirt.

"Wait! That's not it!" She proclaimed loudly. Her nerves came out in the shakiness and desperation in her voice. She kept her eyes shut tight. Afraid of what she would see if she opened them.

"The truth is, I'm in love with you!" She  blurted out. She let go of his shirt, her hands fisted into tight balls by her side as she quickly explained, "I'm not expecting a reply. I know you don't like me back. But have a nice trip!"

She turned on her heel and fled. Tears of anxiety or fear stinging her eyes. The last thing she heard was Adrien calling out for her to wait. Once she was far enough away she risked a glance back and saw Adrien’s face staring out the closed door in shock before the train pulled away from the station.

She stared at the now empty train track for a long time before it truly hit her. She just told Adrien she was in love with him. He was going to be thinking about how she told him she loved him for the next two weeks. Then she was going to have to face him knowing all that when he returned home.

Marinette whipped out her phone and called Alya. “I did something stupid and I need help.”

---

Adrien pulled himself away from the train door and sat down in his seat. Marinette’s parting words echoed in his ears. She loves him. She is in love with him.

When did that happen? He knew they were friends but he hadn’t expected her to be in love with him. Marinette…

He glanced down at the box in his hands. Something small and sweet to take with him. A reminder of home. A reminder of someone petite and kind that just spilled her heart out to him on the train platform.

She said she didn’t expect a response but he felt like he owed her one. She had also said she knew that he didn’t like her the same way she liked him. While it was true that Adrien’s heart had belonged to Ladybug for as long as he’s known her he did feel a warmth around Marinette. Was that love? Or was it just friendship?

Nino had a crush on Marinette. Maybe he would know. Adrien pulled out his phone and hit Nino’s number. “Hey, I’m on the train heading out but I had a question about Marinette.”

---

“Oh dear,” Alya shook her head, she covered the receiver of her phone so Marinette couldn’t hear. Not that Marinette could hear anything over the sound of her own panicked ramblings. She turned to Nino on the couch with a sly smile.  “Marinette just confessed to Adrien before he went on his trip and she’s freaking out.”

“Wow, good for her, do you think Adrien will respond?” Nino asked.

“No idea,” Alya shrugged, “It’s a good thing we left them alone though. Marinette finally got the guts to say something to him.”

“Speak of the devil,” Nino held up his phone where Adrien’s contact picture flashed on the screen. He hit answer. “Hey dude, what’s up? Miss me already?”

Alya went back to listening to Marinette and trying to calm her down while Nino talked to Adrien. The both of them were panicking messes as they ranted and lamented at their respective best friends over the phone.

“I don’t really know what to tell you about your own feelings, dude,” Nino told Adrien, “Yeah I had a crush on Marinette but it only lasted a week. That’s kind of how it is with most of the people from our class.”

“What?” Adrien said.

“Yeah, literally everyone has had a small crush on Marinette at one point or another growing up. You’re like the only person who hasn’t. Which is weird considering how much she dotes on you and swoons around you. Did you really not know about her crush until today?”

“No!”

“Ah...then again you have been head over heels for Ladybug I don’t suppose you would have noticed anyone else unless they confessed to you point blank.” Nino said. He had thought that Adrien’s crush on the spotted hero of Paris was something that had been waning recently once he had agreed to go out with Kagami. But when they broke up it had returned full force.

“Marinette, hold on a second,” Alya shushed Marinette on the other line and turned to Nino with wide eyes, “Did you just say that Adrien has a crush on Ladybug?”

“Uh yeah? Why?”

“What’s going on?” Adrien asked.

“Alya is--”

Alya snatched the phone out of his hands. She held up the other phone with Marinette on the line. “Girl, I know you are spiraling right now but I am gonna need to call you back. I swear I will only be like ten minutes max. Goodbye.” she turned to Nino’s phone, “Now you, pretty boy, I’m gonna need you to repeat that for me.”

“That I have a crush on Ladybug?” Adrien answered timidly.

“How long has that been a thing?”

“Since she first showed up in Paris. Why?”

Nino saw the calculations going off in Alya’s head as she processed this information. Had she not known? He was sure she had to have known but apparently that wasn’t the case.

“Adrien, listen to me very carefully,” Alya said, “You are going to want to accept Marinette’s feelings.”

“Listen, Alya, I know that you are her best friend but--”

“No buts, Agreste!” Alya snapped, “Really listen to me here. I know that you have feelings for Ladybug. Who wouldn’t? She’s amazing but she’s also a superhero with a secret identity. Do you really think you can take Ladybug out to the movies or invite her home for dinner? How are you gonna call her? How do you plan on making that work?”

“Well I--”

“Moonlight rendezvous over the rooftops of Paris sound fine and dandy but you know what else is nice? Marinette. Tangible and readily available with romantic feelings already pre-downloaded in her core. You already call her our Everyday Ladybug. What more do you want?”

“I see your point. But that situation is a little more complicated than that.”

“No it isn’t. Do you not think Marinette is great?”

“She is. She really is.”

“Do you not think she is cute?”

“She is very adorable and attractive. I will confess to that.”

“So if Ladybug wasn’t a thing then would you consider dating Marinette?”

“I mean I guess. But Ladybug is still real and she owns my heart. I can’t just give up on her that easily.”

“Adrien, I do not know how to tell you this but you are not giving up anything by dating Marinette. She is every bit as amazing as Ladybug and you would do well to remember that. As a wise man once said, “far better than any dream girl, is one of flesh and blood, one warm and caring, and right before your eyes.””

“Did you steal that from The Little Mermaid?”

“Not the point! Just think on it. You have two weeks before you come back and make a decision. I suggest you use the time wisely and really consider what I’m telling you. I’m not just saying this because Marinette is my best friend but because I know deep in my gut that you two were made for each other. The only one that doesn’t see it is you.”

“You think we’re made for each other?” Adrien’s voice was soft and quiet. It made Alya’s heart melt.

“I do. I think that you two would make each other so incredibly happy.” Alya sighed, “But no pressure or anything. At the end of the day it is your heart and your choice. I’m just asking you to look at all the possibilities before you make a decision.”

“Okay, I’ll think on it. I promise.”

“Good. Now I gotta call Marinette back before she worries herself into a human pretzel. Bye.” Alya handed the phone back to Nino. She dialed Marinette back and wandered into her room for privacy.

“Why did you hang up on me?” Marinette asked. “I am having a crisis here!”

“Girl,” Alya’s face broke into a grin that would put the Cheshire Cat to shame. “You are not gonna believe this. Adrien’s had a crush on you this entire time. Or rather, a huge, massive, fanboy crush on Ladybug that is.”

“WHAT!”

*Two weeks later*

Well that was the longest two weeks of Adrien’s life. He had done what Alya suggested and really thought over his feelings for Marinette and Ladybug. The more he compared them the more he realized how alike they were. He knew he called Marinette their Everyday Ladybug but he hadn’t realized how true that was until now.

His heart belonged to Ladybug but he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel anything for Marinette. Adrien knew that through Alya and Nino’s eyes the answer was obvious. Marinette was their friend and classmate and she was so much closer to them then Ladybug. But they didn’t know that Adrien was Chat Noir. They didn’t know that he had a direct line to Ladybug. They didn’t know he had this already huge connection to her.

So what was there to do? Have a happy civilian life with Marinette and stop his pursuit of Ladybug? Or let Marinette down gently and keep trying to make things work with his Lady? He needed to come to a decision quick since his train was getting closer to the Paris station. What if Marinette was waiting out on the platform? What was he going to tell her?

The train came to a screeching halt that flung everyone forward. What in the world was that? HE scrambled to the window and saw the leg of a huge a robot. An akuma.

He was thinking up an excuse to leave his bodyguard when the roof of the train was ripped off. The giant robot looked in and reached out its hand and started grabbing random people and dropping them into its mouth.

He had to get out of here and transform! He made a bolt for the bathroom but the robot got him first and lifted him off the ground. He struggled to get free but he was no use against thousands of pounds of metal and magic.

“Oh no you don’t!” the robot’s arm lurched away from its mouth. Ladybug stood on a nearby building with her yo-yo drawn tight to keep the robot from dropping Adrien down its gullet. “Rena! Now!”

Rena Rouge leapt out from behind Ladybug and pounced at the akuma. She dug her flute down between Adrien and the clamp holding him captive. With a large heave she pried the clamp open enough for Adrien to wiggle free. She reached to grab him but at that moment the robot had broken free from Ladybug’s hold and the pair of them were thrown off.

“I got ya!” Ladybug swooped down and grabbed hold of Adrien. Rena was quick on her feet made a safe landing down on the ground.

They landed on a nearby rooftop for Ladybug to deposit him. “You okay?” She asked.

“Yeah, never better,” Adrien’s heart was beating wildly in his chest.

“Good,” Ladybug looked back at the akuma with a small frown, “I gotta go take care of this guy but you should be safe here.”

“Alright,”

“By the way you’re really cute and I think we should go to a movie sometime. Bye!” Ladybug said quickly and leapt back into the fight.

“Wait! What?!” Adrien shouted after her but she was already gone. He was so stunned that by the time he remembered he was Chat Noir and should be helping Ladybug and Rena Rouge had already defeated the akuma.

The miraculous cure swept across the city and Adrien was deposited back in the fixed train in his seat like nothing had happened. Well this got a whole lot more complicated!

---

(Part 2)

#affectionately named after a tag in OPs post #post gang of secrets #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marientte dupain cheng #alya cesaire #topsy turvy #ladrien question mark? #adrinette question mark? #writing

[collecting-stories]

Getaway Car - Rafe Cameron

Request: So I LOVED your “That’s the way I loved you” JJ fic. But I think that song would be perfect for the reader dating topper after dating Rafe! Like the drama! But anyways, could you do a fic like that please? I understand if you don’t because you just did one based off that song. Have a good dayyyyy 💖💖

A/N: I’m tagging this as Rafe cause I guess...technically it is?

TS Anthology Series | Outer Banks Masterlist

_ . ◦ ⭐︎:*.☾.*:⭐︎◦∙._

“I have a feeling this is a bad idea.” While you were reluctant to point out the bad decision making on your part, and his, you felt like it was necessary. Someone had to say something, surely, before you and Rafe went any further. It wasn’t like you were suggesting that you should stop or even really rethink what you were doing...simply pointing out that maybe being alone in his bedroom, in this position, wasn’t the best idea either of you had ever had.  

Rafe hummed in agreement, the sensation sending a jolt through your already warm skin, his face pressed to the crook of your neck. You willed yourself to think of your boyfriend, possibly somewhere in this ridiculously large house, maybe looking for his best friend...who was currently sucking a bruise into your skin. Topper wanted to go together but you’d lied about feeling sick and he’d been sweeter than you cared to admit on the phone when he asked if you wanted him to come over to your house instead. “Of course not Top, go have fun.”  

Because Rafe was supposed to bail too but somehow instead, you had ended up here. In an upstairs bedroom with your shirt pushed up over your stomach and breasts and Rafe’s hands everywhere.  

“What Top doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.” Rafe’s voice was like honey and your alcohol-induced brain fog was happy to hang on every word that passed through his lips. “You said yourself that you weren’t that into him.”

“Yeah...” you trailed off. You had heard all the rumors of Topper’s last girlfriend before he’d even started dating her. Sarah Cameron, much like her older brother apparently, wasn’t too interested in monogamy. She got “bored easily” as the claims went, and while Topper hadn’t handled the situation as well as he could’ve, she had supposedly cheated on him pretty much from the start of their short-lived summer romance.  

Whether Sarah really had cheated or Topper was just paranoid, you potentially being caught in some bedroom at the party you were too sick to go to with his best friend wasn’t a great look. You’d known from the beginning of your relationship with Topper exactly what Rafe wanted. Not a girlfriend, that was too much commitment for him, but someone else’s girlfriend? That was just his speed.  

“Wait, Rafe...” you pushed at his shoulder and he pulled away, hovering over you as you pulled your tank top down just enough to cover your chest. It was silly to stop, only because you knew that what you were looking for wasn’t exactly what you would get. Reassurance that everything would be alright? Sure. But it was empty, just for right now, in this space, just to ensure that you gave Rafe exactly what he wanted.

“You okay? What happened?” But god damn did he seem so concerned. It was scary how well he knew you in such a short amount of time. He might’ve not been catching feelings but you were ready to throw away months with Topper just for this to never end.  

“I just...” you covered your face with your hands. “I can’t keep doing this to Topper.”  

It was a nice sentiment but it wasn’t one you were unfamiliar with. It wasn’t some new thought that you had when you suddenly decided that you were being awful and truly wanted to fix this. It was just a sentence, just words that you repeated to make yourself feel a little better. As if you had any conscience at all.  

“Baby,” he started to speak, sitting up and bringing you with him. You felt his hands on your arms, smoothing goosebumps that had sprung up and you wanted to curse him as you felt any resolve melting at the sound of his voice. “You don’t have to figure anything out tonight.”  

“I either leave or I stay Rafe.” You almost snapped; your voice surprising you. “I can’t keep doing this.”  

The ultimatum, the choice that you knew one of you would have to eventually make, seemed to dictate the next five seconds of your life in a way that you hadn’t expected. Or you had, somewhere in the recesses of your mind, before you’d downed half a cup of Kelce’s jungle juice and made out with Rafe for the better part of a half hour. The door flew open because Rafe had never bothered to lock it, and Topper walked in, his face in clear view, letting you see the rapid change of emotion as he took in the sight of you there on the bed with his best friend.  

Still somewhere in the back of your mind you couldn’t help thinking that it could’ve been worse, he could’ve come in while you still had your top up or when Rafe was actually kissing you. Now there was just the aftermath, the mussed hair and wrinkled clothes, the fact that you were here when you said that you would be in bed, sick. You were here...and you definitely didn’t look sick.  

“What’re you...” whether he just didn’t want to figure it out or he hadn’t yet, Topper sputtered out the question as he stared at you, “what’re you doing here?”

“I was-”

“You said you were sick.”

You pressed your lips together into a thin line, as if that would stop you from saying anything else to him that might incriminate you. As if this wasn’t incriminating enough. You crossed your arms over your chest and looked to Rafe, waiting for him to say something, though you knew he wouldn’t.  

“I’m...uh, I was feeling better.” You lied.  

“Actually, I think you said you were feeling kinda shitty again...” Rafe finally cut in, before Topper could even process the lame attempt at a lie. “That’s why you came in here. Cause you were-”

“I was gonna throw up. Yeah, that’s right, I’m...I should probably go...uh, home. Again. I should probably go home again.” You stuttered out, slipping out the bedroom door passed Topper. His whole body turned with you, eyes following your movement as you entered the hallway.  

Rafe was quick to follow, pushing passed his best friend, “I’ll take you home.”

“That’s it?” Topper finally said as Rafe laid his hand on your arm, ready to guide you down the stairs and out of the house. “That’s you’re shit excuse for why you’re here...at the party you said you were too sick to go to, with my best friend...upstairs in a bedroom together?”  

“I’m sorry?” You chanced, small and maybe just the slightest bit unsure. Were you really sorry? It was doubtful.  

“So then what? All of this just meant nothing?”

“Dude, this isn’t the place.” It was almost comical hearing Rafe say those words. You could count on both hands the number of times Rafe had embarrassed all of you at parties with things that shouldn’t have happened because it ‘wasn’t the place’.

“That’s fucking hilarious coming from you.” Topper almost laughed, though there was no mirth there behind his eyes, “So you just totally shit on this whole relationship and then give me some lame excuse and walk out the door with him?”

You didn’t answer, looking back down the stairs behind you, hoping maybe the carpet under your feet could swallow you whole or you could rewind time to play out differently. Were you embarrassed that you’d been caught or ashamed that you were cheating? You wanted it to be the latter but you knew it was the former.

“Just go.” Topper finally said, “just get the fuck out of my face.”

“Top-” Rafe started to say something but Topper shook his head.

“Go.” He repeated the word, all the finality he needed in it and then Rafe was dragging you by the arm down the hallway toward the staircase and Topper was standing there watching you like someone had stabbed him in the gut. And you had.  

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fic #outer banks fanfiction #obx imagine #obx fanfic #obx fanfiction #obx fic #collecting stories imagine