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asliceofzosan · 6 months

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i've seen figure skater sanji and hockey player zoro before. idk if its been explored but i'd love to put it out there:

hockey player sanji (specifically goalie bc he desperately wants to avoid being checked) and then pairs skater zoro.

pairs skater zoro's long time partner has been nami. though many people ship them together a Lot, they just know each other super well. Well enough to try dating and both of them realized they don't swing that way. in fact, it makes them a really good team. they fought long and hard to claim top spots in competitions because they portray a chemistry that's separate from the rest. plus zoro can carry nami like she weighs fucking nothing. so their lifts are so much more dynamic. they even have a whole next to impossible combination that they're trying to get the ISU to name after them officially.

sanji plays for the East Blue Straw Hats in the Grand Line Hockey League – a formidable rookie group that took down lots of big names in the preseason. they want to make it all the way to the postseason playoff finals but always seem to fall short. but theyre so determined. they reignited a lot of old sparks that were no longer there for old fans and brought in new and curious fans. sanji is the starter goalie and a damn good one at that. it makes sense bc goalies are often doing splits on the ice just to make a save. he's perfected the technique that utilizes just his legs to make saves that make the crowd go fuckin insane.

we have the usual "i booked the rink to practice before you did" trope but a little more spice. in actuality, sanji loves watching pairs skating competitions. his favorite pair rn is franky and robin (mostly for robin). and he adamantly does not want to admit to anyone that he watches zoro and nami's routines much more frequently. (and if anyone asks, he always says its bc of nami. its never just bc of nami.) and zoro's besties with luffy so he always watches their matches even if he barely understands the rules. and he definitely does not stare at a certain blond starter goalie most of the match thats fucking ridiculous

one day zoro and sanji are invited to do one of those comparison videos between hockey players and figure skaters. both get to laugh at the other even Attempting to do their sport. zoro frankly looks ridiculous in all of sanji's usual goalie get-up. and sanji couldn't land an euler to save his life. the video producer suggests they try a simple pairs skating routine. sanji is like "oh i couldn't do that–hEY WHAT THE FUCK MOSSHEAD PUT ME DOWN" because zoro lifted sanji and had him sat on his shoulder like it was normal.

zoro smirks, "you might be lighter than nami, actually. wanna be my new partner?"

sanji knees him in the stomach before skating away while blushing so hard he could melt the ice beneath him.

#listen #both figure skating (most especially pairs skating and ice dancing) AND hockey were my hyperfixations at one point #and zoro? built like a pairs skating man #sanji? has the ass of a hockey player #iT MAKES SENSE TO ME !#but also the dichotomy of zoro doing a graceful sport and sanji in a fast paced brutal game #idk man im too tired to psychoanalyze why i think pairs skating actually works well with zoro's philosophy on strength and balance #and sanji's phobia of being checked tied to many little league games that led him to become a formidable goalie #i COULD GO ON #But i will sleep instead #one piece #sanji #roronoa zoro #zosan #niki's log: op #niki's fics: checks and balances #dO YOU GET THE PUN IN THE TITLE GOD IM SO ANNOYING !!!!!#lowkey my contribution to zosan week even if it might not fit any promprs #i just wanna feel included

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faeriekit · 5 months

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Touch deprived

Kind touches stop after Damian is two.

He does not know this, because at the time, he is two.

The next time someone touches him without the intent of harming him, it is Richard, and it is a surprise. Damian can't help lashing out; he can't help how his heartbeat races, how his breath quickens, how he can't let go of the dagger he drew out of his boot, how he has to leave. Immediately.

The next few touches are equally as kind, if less of surprise.

Damian hates them. He flees from them equally.

He cringes when his father reaches out to touch his shoulder; he dodges Richard's loving tackle-hugs. Cain is impossible to dodge, and he hates her hair-ruffles in equal measure. Todd occasionally invades his personal space and Damian flees before contact can be made. Brown will attempt "fraternal punching", which is just regular hits aimed at his shoulders and arms, and Damian refuses to let those land out of pride in his skill.

Drake, however, does...nothing. Until he invades Damian's room one afternoon.

(Damian does not get off his bed; if Drake is to attack him, Damian could easily subdue him from his reclined posture.)

"What," Damian snaps. He owes Drake no etiquette.

Drake rolls his eyes; the teenager holds up a gray mass as large as a common pillow, arms straining under the weight. "Got you something, your highness. Here."

Damian ignores the incorrect address. "I do not want it."

"You haven't tried it."

And then something heavy falls on top of him. Damian's eyes widen; he scrambles away, prepared to free himself from...

...A blanket.

Damian stares down at it. The blanket sits on his bed, threatening in its mere presence.

"Try it," is all Drake says, eyeing Damian as if the boy is prepared to attack him outright. (He is.) "It's good for anxiety and stuff."

"I do not have anxiety." Damian would never fail deeply enough to have his mental state affected thusly.

"Sure, kid."

Damian is not a kid. But Drake leaves before Damian can correct him on his misinformed opinion, and then Damian is alone with a...blanket.

And. Damian does tests on the fabric, of course. It comes back clean of touch-based toxins, air-diffused toxins, and anything that isn't cotton fiber and cheap plastic pellets. It's only a blanket.

Only...it's a heavy blanket.

...Out of curiosity, Damian uses it one evening. He looks forward to rubbing its ineffectiveness in Drake's face in the morning, but...

...Damian takes the blanket downstairs for movie night the next week. When Richard doesn't reach out to touch him, Damian dares to lay on Richard's shoulder. The blanket presses down against him the way a hug probably ought to.

He is comfortable through the entire event.

#Also-Autistic Tim: ah. Autism. I know what this is #Dick: I think it's trauma actually?#Cass (from across the room): both #Tim: yeah. He gets it from Bruce #Bruce (not listening): hm?#everyone: Nothing!!#thanks for asking!!#dc #batfam #ask games #faer fic

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ricky-mortis · 2 months

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So- Spytown?

I’m in love with this au so much

Inspired by @dxppercxdxver ‘s Spies Are Forever/Hadestown AU. Also by @szollibisz incredible, just out of this world art, and @smytherines many, many text posts about it from the past few days.

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drbtinglecannon · 16 days

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Anyone else here think about Laios/Shuro/Kabru or is it just me

#listen. listen. labru AND laishuro are equally hilarious and both have so much “sir you have a crush on that man” energy #dungeon meshi #labru #laishuro #what would their ot3 ship name even be? laishubru? kalairo? idfk man I just think kabru has a crush on laios & laios has one on shuro #and eventually they can all figure it out and kiss about it #both kabru AND shuro genderbend art from ryoko kui has them be into/dating laios that has to mean something!!#marcille would be the biggest supporter of laishuro too cuz that means he's finally over falin lmao. she's petty like that and I love her #this ot3 has ONE fic on ao3 lol. I'm in the trenches here #edit: it's crucial kabru is transmasc btw. the other two cis or trans hcs are fine but it's non negotiable for kabru he is always transmasc

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scoupsofjisung · 24 days

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˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ change is inedible, according to han jisung

also known as: episode 2 of: i find a funny incorrect quote and make my favs say it

🧸 paring: han jisung x f! reader

🧸 warnings: none. the word disease is used but like. not anything about it :) also psa: DON'T PUT COINS IN UR MOUTH

🧸 author rambles: me during my holidays: writes nothing. me when i have to prepare for a presentation at uni TOMORROW: makes a text fic 👹👹 once again this is so random but i wanted to make another text fic because it’s cute and i love stray kids (as if this is any different to usual), so here we go. also HANJISUNG’S HAIR ATM?????? unbelievable. he’s so pretty. (also something about creating something breaking me out of the endless cycle of scrolling and braindeadness. yeah 😎🤘🏽) enjoy!!

masterlist

blog info post!

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vicsy · 8 months

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They had an agreement, thing is.

Lance hadn't forgotten even in the midst of getting his brain scrambled and his body feeling like jelly once the last bits of the adrenaline seeped out of him; evaporated like droplets of water on the heated surface of the Singapore race track, streaked with burnt tyre marks and covered in the debris of his car.

His dad caught up with him at the doors of the med center, tugging Lance in for a mindful hug, away from cameras and those media vultures. The doctors had already cleared him of the worst but Lance couldn't fight a jittery feeling, even with Lawrence's hold steadying him in more ways than one. He powered through it, though, managing a quick foray to catering and finding nothing to his liking.

Lance's phone was a minute or two away from blowing up, messages and notifications piling up. He called his sister instead of texting her back, gingerly sitting on the side of the hotel room bed, the aftermath of his crash reverberating through his bones, a faint buzzing under his skin. When Chloe picked up with envious speed, as if she's been waiting, Lance cut off whatever she was gearing up to say, his voice steadier than he felt.

Fine. He was fine. He didn't have to see the pics; he's been there, he lived through it. Saved him from the mockery of it all, for sure.

He set his phone on the nightstand beside a pack of painkillers the doctors prescribed and a half-drank bottle of water, slumping against the headboard, floating on the verge of passing out. It took some time to settle in, Lance diligently cataloguing every painful pang and uncomfortable pull of muscles that made him grit his teeth until he settled carefully on his side, facing the panoramic window.

He hadn't forgotten, even in sleep, and when Lance opens his eyes, disturbed by a familiar noise of the door opening, something stirs at the back of his mind, a warning flashing before his bleary eyes.

It was their thing. On media day, Lance found himself chatting away with Esteban when Fernando came up to both of them, discreetly palming Lance's ass, then dipping his fingers in his back pocket to fish out a keycard. Este only looked in horror and Lance barely contained a tiny laugh bubbling in his chest. Fernando's nonchalance as he waved the keycard playfully at him and shot a pointed took Esteban's way earned Lance a nasty smack on the shoulder and a frantic tirade half in French, half in English.

That was Thursday. Lance ended up spread out on the bed, panting into the mattress helplessly, thighs shaking as Fernando took his fill and they fell asleep tangled with each other, sated. On Friday night, he went down to his knees, Fernando's eyes screwed shut and his back pressed against the door of his hotel room, fingers tangled in Lance's hair, the keycard he stole lying on the floor beside him. Two could play this game.

And tonight, they're not supposed to–

There's a muffled sound of footsteps and then the bed dips. Lance moves to roll onto his back, only to stop short as a hand wraps around his middle, strong and possessive. Fernando presses his body alongside his, sure and steady; warm but out of place.

"Fernando?" Lance calls out, dumbly, in some sort of dizzy disbelief.

He wasn't superstitious. It was Fernando's forte. Anyone else would have laughed it off but Lance listened to Fernando's reasoning the night after they raced in Spain, stealing two days out of the schedule to be away from their pressing obligations, media shitstorm and judgmental looks. Lance doesn't remember leaving the bed much but the sunset over Oviedo burned itself in his memory, along with every little quiver and moan Fernando wrenched out of him, sealing their lips together as the sun slipped below the horizon outside an open window.

"Is bad luck," Fernando had said, propped up on one elbow, mouth curving in an easy grin that pulled a lazy smile out of Lance, almost automatically. "Better we always miss one day and meet after the race, no?"

Fernando kissed the corner of his mouth, gripping the back of Lance's neck, and he'd agreed to the terms, never the one to protest. It didn't matter to Lance much back then, setting a tray with their food aside in favor of pulling Fernando on top of him, chasing what neither of them should have ever had.

And yet.

A day before the race, they stay in their rooms; they don't fuck. No funny business.

They had an agreement and it shouldn't be broken over Lance's own string of bad fucking luck or whatever karmic debt he acquired; over the hunger he knows resides deep in Fernando's soul. Over the one that flickers within Lance, a trivial thing before the real enormity of it swallowed him whole.

Fernando's palm slips up and down his thigh, fingers passing over the hem of his sleep shorts and Lance's breath hitches. He's never said no, but he's not in the right condition for anything, let alone lying there and taking it. Usually Fernando rolls him onto his belly and Lance goes, pliant and willing and already breathless with anticipation. Now, his body freezes like he's about to crash again and his mind wanders.

Offhandedly, Lance tries to remember if Fernando had called or texted him but what would be the point of it now? He breathes in shakily, staying painfully still.

"Hey, I don't–"

Fernando cuts him off.

"Shh," he whispers as if annoyed, softly kissing the nape of Lance's neck once, twice, then splaying his palm across the flat plane of Lance's stomach. "You sleep now. Tomorrow, we race."

It knocks Lance off balance, the way he entirely missed the mark. He feels Fernando burrow his face in his hair, breath tickling his sensitive skin. He holds Lance close, his grip unrelenting, borderline suffocating and something cracks open in Lance's chest, spills out and makes him shiver. The tension eases and he tentatively covers Fernando's hand on his body with his.

Crawling out of the corner Lance backed himself into, he settles in the bewildered comfort. In his eyes, Fernando is two men at once — the one who who isn't scared of means to an end in order to win and the one who comes up with a different nickname to call Lance in private, making his heart flutter.

And in the never-ending aftermath of his crash, in the face of those who always turn their back to Lance, the latter man claims his victory. Lulled by Fernando's steady heartbeat against his shoulder blades, Lance slips into fitful sleep, hope nestling deep in his ribcage.

He wakes with a jolt. Feels like he's fallen into a pit, panicky and sticky with sweat, heart hammering away an uneven rhythm. A heavy weight of Fernando's hand is still slung across his back, a solid point of contact. Some semblance of relief lurches in his throat along with nausea.

Lance knows something is wrong. He sluggishly gets his hands underneath himself, struggling to lift himself up, and falls back on the bed with a pathetic little noise. His alarm hasn't gone off yet. It's barely light outside.

His limbs won't cooperate, no substantial strength in his muscles, his t-shirt sticking to his skin uncomfortably. Head pounding, Lance blinks rapidly, suddenly out of breath, like he just completed the race. What a fucking joke. He screws his eyes shut, his mind racing.

A hand pushes on his shoulder to roll him onto his back in a sick reverse of what he's used to. When Lance blinks his eyes open again, Fernando's sleep-rumpled face swims into his vision. He can't read his expression right, just takes in the lines of worry on Fernando's forehead. He must look like hell.

Lance shakes his head against the pillow, the pinprick of tears in the corners of his eyes. Fernando's shoulders sag as he rasps:

"Is fine, Lance."

It's not. He's not fit to race, a hopeless case at this point.

"I can't," Lance chokes against the unfamiliar lump in his throat. "Fer, I'm– I can't."

He hurts all over, pain erupting in different parts of his body and then flaring everywhere at once. Lance feels so fucking betrayed, restrained, pitiful. He remembers waking up from surgery, groggy and still half-broken but it feels worse now, feels baneful. Lance moves to swipe damp hair from his forehead, hand wavering, laden.

Fernando takes him by the wrist, lifts his hand gentle enough and Lance allows to be manoeuvred, guided. Then; a kiss placed over the scar there, warm lips pressed to his clammy skin, grounding him. Lance lets an ugly sob free.

"Is fine," Fernando repeats, a hollow look in his eyes. His fingers tighten around Lance's wrist. "I race for us both this time."

He leaves, soon after; Lance stays behind.

He almost wishes Fernando good luck, out of habit. Almost. Lately, Lance has been all out of it but he'd spare some for Fernando, unprompted. He promises Lance to wear one of his gloves for the race. For luck. Lance's face twist as do his insides. He's always been dismal at masking how he really feels.

The last twenty laps Lance watches from the back of the Aston Martin garage, tucked safely away from the reporters. His body still feels sore, like a foreign entity that exists outside of him but it pales in comparison to the feeling of his stomach dropping as Fernando spins on the track and keeps losing and losing and losing.

Perhaps, it's Lance's luck that does him in. Misplaced blame tastes acrid on his tongue.

As the celebrations unfold, he seeks Fernando out from a distance. He catches him among the sea of mechanics, race suit undone halfway, the same hollowed look from this morning haunting his features. He stalks forward, past where Lance has glued himself to one of the chairs. He makes no move to follow. Fernando doesn't grace him with a mere gaze. In the background, fireworks erupt.

Back in his hotel room, suitcase laid on the floor in disarray, Lance distracts himself and puts his phones aside, itching to shoot a text or anything, really. Fernando has been radio silent since the end of the race, leaving the debrief earlier than usual. Lance isn't some dumb, love-sick teenager, he knows well enough that after today's debacle Fernando would need space. He waits with patience honed with years.

And waits.

Then gives up, momentarily scorned. It's almost past midnight. He should have known better; Esteban would be right to laugh in his face.

They had an agreement.

It's unfair to the core since Fernando shattered it himself and the reason why was kept implicit, just beneath the surface. Too many ifs cross Lance's mind like someone opened the floodgates of his thoughts. If he was insignificant, Fernando wouldn't bother right from the very start but they're way past the point of no return. If Lance was wiser or older or not himself, he would not have cared at all and even now, he fucking shouldn't. If isn't good enough of an excuse to feel the skin on his wrist burn with a ghost of a kiss; to crave the safety of Fernando's embrace. To be the sole center of his undivided attention.

It's still Sunday night.

They had an agreement.

Lance downs the last of the painkillers and drags himself under a thick blanket, the aircon cranked to the max and all the lights turned off.

The door stays shut, the night passes by. His ache grows stronger and doesn't subside.

Morning greets Lance with a taste of defeat and the knowledge settling deep in his bones. He could race with his heart out on the track but could hardly wrestle a win against the clutches the race itself has sunk so utterly deep into Fernando.

Lance's luck leaves him no chances. After all, he was born to lose.

#vicsy writes #strollonso #i though 'how can i make this day better' and chose to make it worse #singapore was hella depressing for strollonso nation #essentially Nando is like we can't fuck before the race it's bad luck and better not see each other #but lance's crush made him go soft.....#anyway sorry for this half baked nonsense #alonstroll #fernando/lance #lance stroll #fernando alonso #strollonso fic #f1 fic #lancenando #lowkey haattee thiiiissssss #listen to Born to Lose by Des Rocs while reading this #can't believe I have to endure the horrors of both Nando and Lance suffering

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tragedry · 2 months

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sbg fic writer who has jokingly started shipping tyler and aiden together is now swamped with far too many fic ideas for a ship that was only meant to be a joke, send help

#me in the shower getting a brand new fic idea: wow this would be a good tyden fic #listen my google docs is now full of both ashler and tyden fic ideas #i wanna blame rosie for this #ry.speaks #tyden #sbg #school bus graveyard

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aimbutmiss · 2 months

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For someone who's obsessed with the religious themes in zolu, it's weird that I never realised Like a Prayer by Madonna is THE zolu song ever.

Like, it shouldn't have taken me this long.

#I've been listening to it on repeat ever since I was hit by the realisation #IT'S LITERALLY THEM #I think it's mostly from zoro's perspective but I feel it can go both ways to some extent #I love zolu guys #drop fic recs maybe #one piece #zolu #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro

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spectral-honey · 2 years

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Okay wait wait wait wait wait Tim Drake neurodivergent icon info dumping about the cases and strategies of the early Batman & robin days and Damian listening bc it's "good information for his training" but REALLY he's just letting his brother talk about his hyperfixation!!!

#tim drake #Damian Wayne #batfam #listen i read like 1 fic where damian and tim are both autistic and i was like oh yah!!!#pls if u habe ideas of what damian can infodump abt pls add. i was thinking his pets or maybe illustration???#he and tim could have a back and forth abt photography vs illustration #i just like it when theyre nice to each other!!!#based on me and my bro but my bro just zones out while i talk and then jumps in when somethign catches his attention LMAO #dc

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total-drama-brainrot · 2 months

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Total Drama AU/Headcanon: Where everything is the same, except Noah is just as crazy/insane as Izzy and Eva, but he's much better at hiding it (with a sarcastic calm personality) ... Only Izzy, Eva and Owen know his true unhinged colors (and that's why they get along with him so well) .../// Duncan briefly saw it during the Total Drama Island Special Finale, when Duncan grabbed Noah's leg, but Noah escaped, and we didn't see HOW Noah escaped... In this AU, Noah bit Duncan's hand then gave Duncan a silent psychotic grin, which shocked Duncan and gave Noah time to escape (Noah basically pretending the bite and grin never happened) ... In TDWT, imagine if Alejandro ever found out that the sanest one on his Team is only PRETENDING to be sane! 😅

I've seen that one Scary!Noah AU floating about in the main tag lately, and I love the concept. There's so much that could be done with having someone like Noah (scarily smart, mostly motivated by either spite or The Bit, nerfed by his own laziness/apathy/hubris) have the added bonus of Going Apeshit sometimes. Either as a treat to himself, or as the natural consequence of his hidden nature.

It's like that "Izzy Isn't Crazy" theory, but in reverse. "Noah Is Crazy, He's Just Good At Masking".

In this AU, he and Izzy would get on like a house on fire.

Like recognises like, after all; Izzy would clock him as just as unhinged as herself at their first meeting, and probably confront him about his 'game plan' at the first chance she could (maybe that's why she was so quick to swap with Katie? A bid to get herself on the same team as Noah?). Noah would try to deny it at first, because he's supposed to be the 'lazy genius'- slipping from his allotted persona this soon into the competition would jeopardise his strategy!- but Izzy would reassure him that she can practically smell the crazy on him.

He'd live up to his title as 'The Schemer', by means of plotting pranks and other such events with Izzy. She'd use her status as the overt crazy girl to pull them off, and Noah would either help behind the scenes to abate his hunger for chaos, or live vicariously through Izzy's blatant mania whilst revelling in the fact that their plan(s) play out perfectly every time. Imagine how much better Izzy's bear suit prank would've been with a man on the inside- and now imagine how much better it would've been if Noah pretended to get eaten/mauled by bear!Izzy (using smuggled ketchup packets and A Lot Of Screaming to convince the Gophers of his demise)! (He'd play off the incident by blaming the whole thing on Izzy- saying she was the one who used the ketchup, and his screaming was just him being Rightfully Terrified of being eaten. Gotta keep up the charade!)

No one would suspect him either! Who would ever assume that slothful, apathetic Noah who complains about the trials and tribulations of 'hard work', 'effort' and 'physical activity' could be a friend and an accomplice to the unstoppable force of nature that is Izzy? He's always too busy shoving his nose into his book to ever consider befriending the crazy girl, there's no way Noah would even tolerate her! (/s)

I think he'd eventually reveal his true colours to Team E-scope plus Owen once their friendship is cemented off-screen. Noah isn't the trusting type (I'd clarify, but I'd end up writing a whole unrelated essay- maybe another time) and he's habitually secretive- his non-answers in the WT Character Interview and his Sierra-given title of "The Man of Mystery" attest to this- so he'd need to know that his friends are really his friends before letting himself be vulnerable/transparent with them, since any 'friendships' made on Total Drama always run the risk of being a ploy/fake. It is a social game, after all.

As for the Duncan Incident. Having Noah bite people is going to turn into a running gag for me at this point, because it's so fucking hilarious to imagine him in a scenario where he's forced/pressured into violence and immediately starts chomping down on someone. This weasel boy wasn't built for punches and kicks but On God can he use those pearly whites to cause some damage. (The human jaw has a surprisingly strong bite force. Noah absolutely knows this.)

I'd also like to suggest that Noah rips himself out of his cargo shorts after biting Duncan, leaving the punk with a bleeding handful of nerd shorts and an open wound for his troubles. He'd already let go of Noah by that point too; it's hard to maintain your grip on anything when you've got a manic bookworm tearing away at the tendons in your hands. So he's just sat there, terrified and concerned, nursing the throbbing, sluggishly bleeding bitemark on his hand and wondering how Noah managed to contort his usually stoic facial features into a grin so wild and feral.

And Noah races back to Izzy and Eva, face and teeth splattered in Duncan's blood, sans cargo shorts. Neither of them question it; Izzy has an idea of what he's done, since Noah's smugness levels have risen at least three tiers and he's smiling almost contentedly to himself, and Eva has learned how to Mind Her Own Business when it comes to Izzy and Noah's eccentricities (though she often shoots inquisitive looks towards Noah's red-painted face).

Then in World Tour? Alejandro is suffering. Noah's the only person on his team who isn't lacking braincells and/or completely unhinged (or so he thinks), and as such he's the latino's only lifeline to sanity on the forsaken jet. So when Duncan returns in London and seems scared of the harmless bookworm? That's concerning.

Assuming that Noah's a wee bit more savvy in this AU thanks to his subterfuge experience in Island, he probably wouldn't be as outwardly apparent in his distrust of Alejandro during the challenge- either that, or he'd be enjoying torturing Tyler too much to think about how much of an eel Alejandro is. So Alejandro wouldn't have any reason to want to eliminate him, if anything he'd be motivated to keep him around, if only to act as a buffer between himself and the idiocy of Team Chris.

Duncan's re-introduction and allocation to the team would be Alejandro's first inkling into the fact that Noah is more than he seems. When the delinquent is ushered to stand next to Alejandro and Noah, his pupils contract into pinpricks or terror, and his attention flickers between the aloof cynic to his side and an oval-shaped scar on his hand. The cynic shoots Duncan a friendly smile (Alejandro ignores how the smile doesn't quite reach Noah's eyes) and the punk turns sheet white.

Alejandro doesn't know what to make of it.

#something something a higher iq correlates with higher levels of crazy?#it got a little fic-y there at the end but i ADORE the concept of an unhinged dangerous noah playing coy with the cast #like a cat toying with the doormouse in it's claws instead of eating it #this noah would pin all of his actions on izzy and she'd gladly take the credit #in world tour he crashes the plane twice (whilst chef's on break) and izzy takes the fall both times #they enable each other in their mania and that's beautiful 😌#listen the idea of having alejandro play detective against this noah in WT is interesting but i'm so caught up in the--#euphoria of an izzy🤝noah chaos combo that i'm not gonna dive into it (yet)#total drama #td noah #td izzy #td duncan #td alejandro #silly ideas #others' ideas #psycho!noah au #(that's what i'll call this AU. i know 'psycho' is an iffy term but i'm using it lovingly. also it reminds me of psycho teddy so-)#tw violence #tw blood mention

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