#and wouldn't you know it the cord broke

[silverskye13]

Diversity win, the mega corporation that hates you still stocks the product you need that's been discontinued for 10 years!

#spazzcat barks #my poor tablet #i have a wacom bamboo tablet that is now 11 years old #and wouldn't you know it the cord broke #[it still worked but i had to prop it up a certain way to get connection] #and i finally did some digging and found my model number #and amazon still! stocks! the connection cord! wowee!! #guess who's gonna pull a grian and buy like 10 of them

[holesinmycamouflage]

make it two || conrad fisher

Summary: you have history with conrad fisher & an emotional conversation brings it to light

Warnings: A mention of a spoiler from season 2

“What’s your biggest regret?” 

The sound of Conrad Fisher’s voice tore through the waves that were crashing up on the sand. It was the first alternative sound that you have heard in the last two hours and it broke you out of your daydream. You were laying on the sand, staring up at the dark sky that was lit up with glistening stars and the occasional plane sweeping through the air. 

Everything was getting too much in the house and you snuck away. A text to Belly ensured her that everything was okay but you just needed air. You knew it wouldn't have been long until someone came to hunt you down.

“And there you go again, Fisher,” you sighed, voice straining and you tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill down your cheek, “always the deep, dark questions.”

“The answer doesn’t always have to be dark,” Conrad slowly sat down beside you, careful to not disrupt the sand too much. He lay on his side, propping his head up with his palm, and you could feel his gaze roaming your face. 

Seconds turned into minutes before you spoke again, the words falling softly off your tongue, “I regret not coming up here last summer but I think you knew that, Connie.” 

Without a second thought, Conrad brushed his thumb over the cheek closest to him and wiped the tear away which led to your lips quivering under the determination to not sob in front of him. You looked up through your eyelashes, praying silently that you wouldn’t break down but you knew that this has been building over the last couple of days that you’ve been back to Cousins. 

The waves were non-existent as Conrad moved his hand slowly to cup your jaw and turn your gaze to him. You breathed in an unexpected sigh at the sight of his brown eyes staring back at you. Hurt. Pain. Regret. You recognised the emotions too easily. 

“You didn’t know,” he whispered, “No one did and that’s what my mother would have wanted.” 

His words were meant to give you a sense of relief, but instead they struck a cord that you have been carefully avoiding since the death of Susannah. Anger washed through your veins and you sat up, bringing Conrad with you. “She knew and she refused to tell me, she refused to beg me to come here to have.. To have one last summer with her.” Your voice wasn’t loud, but there was frustration dripping from the words, “She didn't fight." 

“She didn’t want you to give up your life for her.”

“Stop defending her, Conrad!” you screamed, standing up and walking away from him. 

“Y/N,” Conrad snapped, chasing after you as you rushed down further away from the house you grew up in. “You had a great summer, with your friends.. At your parties, living your life, as she wanted you to.” 

This has been a topic that everyone has been avoiding since you arrived with Jeremiah. You never made it down to Cousins last Summer and it was all because you wanted to spend time with your friends. "I'm not a child anymore, mother, you can't make me go." were the words you said to your mother before she made the devastating call to Susannah.

You turned quickly on your heels, stopping dead in your tracks, “She was my life! You! Jeremiah! Belly! Even Steven!” Conrad was about a meter away from you, but you shouted the names at him, “I was too stubborn to give up one more summer to see you again, to see Suzannah again.. I thought I was too cool for Cousins, I kept saying to my mother ‘there’s always next year’ but now… that’s it,” you breathed out, looking him in the eye and seeing his heart break for you. “There's not a next year and there's nothing we can do about it.” 

Before you knew it, Conrad wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest. His chest was rising and falling, taking in the information you screamed at him. You couldn’t stop the tears from taking over, everything became too much and you were thankful that your face was smudged into his t-shirt. “It’s my fault,” you repeated, hearing Conrad shush you and running his hand up and down the back of your head. His aftershave swirled around you, it was like a drug to you, calming you down immediately.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, and you could feel his chest shake with his own tears. The realization hit you hard, it’s always him. He always has you. 

Conrad guided both of your bodies to the sand, sitting back and letting you release the build up of emotions. You couldn’t tell how much time passed, but from the pain starting to come up your back, you knew it was time to face the music. 

Pulling back from Conrad, he let you go gently, his eyes never leaving your face. You breathed out, your eyes feeling puffy and swollen, “I’m sorry about that.” 

“You know there’s no reason to be sorry,” his voice was soft, just like it always was. Conrad Fisher was too pure for this world. “I should have told you the moment I found out but..” he paused, “things were complicated between us.” 

You nodded understandingly. The last time you saw Conrad, it was hard saying goodbye to him. There was a first and last kiss, and the distance became too much for the both of you. Missed phone calls, forgotten texts and two teenagers trying to be adults. You need to live, and so did he. 

“I do wish you called.” 

“That’s my biggest regret,” Conrad whispered, before taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on it, “I’ll live with that for the rest of my life, for making you feel this way.” 

“Connie,” you breathed out, twisting your body to look at him with both eyes, “It wasn’t your fault, please believe that.” You watched his tongue dart from his mouth to lick his bottom lip, feeling your heart start to get heavy. Since the moment you returned to Cousins, your heart has been aching for Conrad like it always has been. “I missed you,” at your confession, the pain disappeared from Conrad’s eyes, and they softened with the side of his lips turning upwards.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he whispered, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek and he didn't miss the nervous gulp you took which only made him chuckle. “Y/N, I’m not me when you’re not with me. You change everything, you make me a better person and I… really like you for that,” he hesitated, a mischievous glint flickered in his stare.

“Were you just about to admit your love for me?” you teased, your mouth growing wide and your teeth were on full display. 

“I think everyone and their dog knows that I love you, y/n y/l/n. I fell in love with you the moment I met you.”

“We were five,” you chuckled, shifting closer to him. 

Conrad shook his head with a laugh, his thumb massaging your jaw gently, “and yet we’ve only ever had one kiss, how unfair is that?” 

“Why don’t we make it two kisses tonight?”

#the summer i turned pretty #tsitp #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #tsitp cast #conrad fisher x you #tsitp imagine #the summer i turned pretty fic #conrad fisher fic #conrad fisher imagine #jeremiah fisher

[diviningrodtv]

Oh yeah, NSH Time.

I've been holding this post back for like a week😅

I absolutely love how NSH came out and I think he's currently my favourite rain world model that I've done! (Sorry Pebbles, I'm going to upgrade you later anyway :]

I also made his scarf easily removable so you can see how the stripes aren't just on his head! The stripes and his irises also glow, but a bit brighter than the areas on Five Rotten Pebbles.

His antennae are pretty similar to how I did Sliver's, especially considering I did his first! XD They're separated from his head a bit.

Also if you've noticed in my art that his eyes are the exact same as in the model here, that's because they are! I tried finding a way to draw them how I usually might, but I just couldn't get the same vibe! So I said, "Fuck it!" and I've been drawing over his model ever since XD

NSH is also who I used to make the "umbilical arm" model! So if you saw those posts, that's why the textures are all messed up!

And here it is in all it's glory!

It's mostly made of ball joints with a flexible joint attached to the back. The last segment also twists just like your forearm bones!

Also..... lore shit below cause I have, plans™ so-

If you don't want to know why NSH is acting strange on my blog yet, read no further!

(there's also some downpour spoilers, and some other disturbing things)

*slaps top of can* This bad boy can fit so much fucking insanity in him. (cw: self-harm yeah you heard me)

If you haven't figured it out already (I did drop hints :) NSH's structure is damaged! His legs are giving out because a group of scavengers thought it would be funny to transport all of their explosives at once.

So he's in a bit of a pickle!

This is when Looks to the Moon and Five Pebbles' communication tower is repaired! During their first conversation in a very long time, NSH finds out about good ol' Hunter long legs, and is rightfully distraught! He feels like a total failure, that he wasn't experienced enough to properly create his messenger.

That's what this whole post was about!

But, experience is something that can be gained.

NSH figured if Five Pebbles was able to leave his can, then he should be able to as well, but that requires solving the three problems I mentioned in the Five Rotten Pebbles post:

The self-genome modification barrier,

A general lack of puppet central brain matter, and

No material processing within the puppet.

I'll talk about my umbilical lore for this AU here since it's relevant.

Either the "cord" or the "arm" can be disconnected, but not both. This is for ease of repair by administrators. Disconnecting them both would leave the unfortunate Iterator fully functional. Although, they would be blind in the visible spectrum (apart from overseers), unable to speak directly to someone in their chamber, and would otherwise have their workflow be severely impaired. They would effectively be trapped in their own head.

NSH realised that even if the barriers existed, they could still have the intentions, to break them. So what would happen, if he broke one? Not by writing it out of his system, Five Pebbles already proved how risky that method was, but instead by setting his actions in motion faster than any barrier could stop them? This was something to test, and wasn't that what Iterators were built to do anyway?

Umbilicals can only be disconnected by administrators, but what if he were to do it anyway? He needed to leave his can after all, it wouldn't be much of a loss if he was stuck on the floor of his chamber or floating aimlessly in zero gravity for a while.....

So what if he just ran fast enough to rip himself off?

What if he moved his arm back at the last second, could he gain enough inertia to pull it out of his back? Even if it took a few tries?

What other choices does he have? Perfect Five Pebbles' method until he collapses and continue even then? He had time, but not enough for that, and The Hunter certainly did not have any time for waiting around. NSH had to fix his mistake, he had to.

So this bastard goes and does exactly that, and short-circuits his entire system.

Not just breaking the umbilical maintenance barrier, but every other one in the process.

And it all hurts like hell.

But that's the first problem solved, and now he can help keep himself afloat longer. So that now, he can figure out how to solve the other two problems with precision.

Of course, the others won't like any of these plans, but, after what Five Pebbles did, they wouldn't dare disturb him if he stopped responding, right?

And maybe, he could even hijack their communications array, to look for help.

>:]

yeah so NSH is not sane

#No Significant Harassment #rain world #rw no significant harassment #rw nsh #low poly #3d model #blockbench #Digi's RW Design Posts #downpour spoilers #generally fucked up mentally unstable rain world nonsense under the cut. It's marked at the top when you click read more #long post #very long post

[cherrydreamer]

It starts with a microwave.

Susan's microwave.

Susan's fancy-ass fucking brand new microwave that Neil had so smugly given her as a birthday gift only yesterday. The one that he'd then gone on to give a whole damn speech about, making sure the whole family- especially Billy- knew just how expensive it was, how it was a 'top of the line' product and should be treated as such, how they needed to make sure it was always wiped out after every single use and how they best not do anything dumb, like trying to reheat chicken on the soup setting. 

That microwave.

The one that Max had, of course, somehow managed to break, her stupid, clumsy hands jabbing at the buttons until one of them stuck down and the timer went all weird and the fucking thing wouldn't stop beeping until Billy wrenched the plug out of the socket.

That fucking microwave.

And Billy knows that he's getting the blame. Because that's how it works. Because, even though it's not his fault, Billy is the one who's gonna get it in the neck for this, even though he'd told Max, he'd fucking told her, that if she just waited five goddamn minutes for him to finish his workout, then he'd sort out some dinner for both of them. But she just couldn't. She just had to rush on in and break it and ruin his whole fucking night and-

It doesn't matter.

Billy reminds himself of that fact. It doesn't matter how it happened because it's happened. Neil and Susan went out for their special fancy meal and Billy didn't watch Max closely enough and Max broke Susan's brand new microwave and, as soon as he finds out, Neil is going to break Billy.

It's fucked.

Everything is fucked.

Billy, most of all, is fucked.

Except. Maybe he isn't.

Because when the disorientation of the initial panic starts to ebb, giving way to an all too familiar clench of cold fear, Billy is suddenly granted an idea. A slight glimmer of hope. And he knows he can't afford to replace the thing, but maybe a repair could be manageable. Doable. It'll probably wipe out all his savings, the wad of cash he keeps under the seat of the Camaro and that he's pinned a whole load of his future hopes on, but hey, if Neil comes back and finds out what Billy's done, then his chance of a decent future is looking mighty slim as it is.

So Billy has a plan. Sort of. He heaves the microwave into his arms and hauls it out of the kitchen, yelling back at Max to grab the trailing cord clattering along the counter, and he manages not to drop it the whole way down the steps and then he's placing it into the passenger seat of the Camaro, taking more care of it than any actual passenger he's ever had, and then, with Max in the back, he high tails it all the way to the Hawkins' high street, screeching to a stop right outside of Radio Shack.

And it's closed. Of course it's closed. The real, definite, 'sign flipped and shutters down' kind of closed. Of course it is.

Because that's the kind of night Billy's having. And, ok, maybe he loses it a little and aims a frustrated kick against the door and maybe he pounds against the shutters and yells a few obscenities at the well locked door for good measure.

But hey, who can blame him?

And he's just about to turn around, head back to the Camaro and either drive home to face his fears, or just carry on driving right outta Hawkins, just him and Max and a kidnapped microwave that he might manage to hawk for gas money. He hasn't decided yet.

But for once, someone's looking out for Billy. Because, despite the store being closed, there's a sudden flown of a light flicking on behind the shutters, and then the door is opening and the chubby face of Bob Newby is right there, peering out at them with a bemused expression,

"Now guys, I know we've just got the new Flavoradio in but you kids really don't have to go beating down the door to get it, they'll all still be there tomorrow."

But Billy's already back at the Camaro, lugging the microwave out, raising a surprised sounding chuckle from Bob and an amused retort, "Careful there, sport, that looks like a weighty one." And then Bob's off, chatting away like he and Billy are old friends. Like Billy actually gives a shit about the crap he's rambling on about, "That how you get those muscles, huh, lifting appliances? Cause, that'll do it. Some of the guys in our warehouse? Arms like Schwarzenegger. Not quite the same for us store guys though-" he pauses, patting his gut and smiling, "Although I can't deny that the old brain cells do get a fair workout now and again."

Billy really doesn't have time for this, and, for all Bob's stupid jokes, the microwave is fucking heavy, one sharp corner of it digging right into the crook of his arm, so he's a little harsher than he means to be when he says, "Look, I really need this thing fixing. Tonight." But he quickly manages to tack on a, "Please?" when Bob's eyebrows start to raise.

"Well, now, Mister," Bob sucks his teeth, and tilts his head, "this is Radio Shack, and this thing sure as sugar isn't a radio. And technically, we're not even open."

Billy's heart starts to sink. Plummet, actually, aiming to land somewhere deep down to his feet, but then Bob's smiling again, "But hey, I won't tell if you don't."

And then he winks, ushering Billy and Max inside. He gestures for Billy to put the microwave down on the counter as he pulls a tiny, plastic case from out of his shirt pocket, opening it up and selecting a tiny screwdriver from a whole row of them, tapping the silvery end of it lightly against the microwave's control panel.

"And it just so happens-" Bob wiggles the screwdriver back and forth, tongue poking out from between his teeth as he concentrates on getting the angle just right, "-that I have some personal experience with this model. There's a bit of a design flaw with the, uh, the plastic edge here, right by the buttons, you see?" He taps the screwdriver on the place he means, smiling even more when Billy finally leans in to look, "Press it with a little bit too much force, and you might just find that it tends to jam right up, especially if someone touches it with sticky hands." Bob aims a knowing nod at where Max stands browsing over by the personal stereos, "But it's nothing that can't be fixed when you know how. In fact..."

Bob purses his lips, looking back down at the control panel and then up at Billy. He nods, seemingly to himself, and then he pulls the screwdriver away, holding it out, handle first, to Billy, "Why don't you do it?"

Billy shakes his head, "Nah, no way, I'll just fuck it up even more.

"No you won't," Bob sounds so certain of that fact, and Billy has no idea why, until he continues, "Because I'll help you. Teach you. So you do it and then if it happens again, well, you won't need to lug this thing all across town."

It's sensible, really, Billy thinks. Knowing Max, this is unlikely to be a one-time occurrence. And he can just imagine the look on Neil's face if Billy is the one to save the day. Hell, he thinks, his dad might even be proud of him. It'd be good, Billy thinks, really good.

So he takes the screwdriver. He listens to Bob's calm, measured instructions. He follows them. He listens a bit more. He pokes at the button. He jiggles it. He twists it. He nudges it.

It doesn't budge.

He nudges it again.

Nothing. If anything, it looks even flatter.

Billy throws the screwdriver down on the counter with a clatter, "I can't do it. I can't fucking-"

"You can, you've got it, look it's almost there," Bob's voice is patient. Reassuring. He picks the screwdriver back up, pressing it into Billy's hand again, "just tilt it up at the edge, give it a little bit more of a tap, and see what happens."

Billy breathes in and out, deliberately slow. He focuses his gaze on the end of the screwdriver, right where it rests against the sunken, stuck in button.

He tilts it up. He gives it a tap. Then another, a bit harder. And then one more, for luck.

This time, there's a click. It's the tiniest sound but it echoes in Billy's ears, and the button springs up, flush and level with the others.

Fixed.

Billy knows that he's grinning, a big, dorky, ear to ear one that he just can't stifle, and he looks up to see a matching expression on Bob's face.

"There you go," Bob says, voice full of pride, "Couldn't have done it any better myself. Look at that, huh?' Bob taps an approving finger on the button, pushing it in and watching it spring right back out, just as it should, "Good as new."

Billy nods, holding the screwdriver out for Bob, but Bob just shakes his head, gently pushing it back into Billy's hand.

"Why don't you keep hold of it?" he smiles, "Just in case?"

And Billy doesn't trust himself to speak. Not right now, when the surge of relief flooding through his body has left him dizzy and emotional, and Bob's kindness is only making things worse. So he nods, taking the screwdriver and dropping it into the pocket of his gym shorts, and then he heaves the microwave back into his arms, declining Bob's offer to help him carry it.

It's only when Billy's got the microwave and Max packed safely back into the Camaro that his brain catches up with him, and he grabs the bundle of cash from the gap underneath the seat, growling out a, "You didn't see anything, OK?" at Max's little gasp of surprise, and then he's heading back into the store.

He still can't quite meet Bob's eyes, especially when that dumb, bright, proud fucking smile is still on his face. So instead Billy looks down at the bulge of the case in Bob's top pocket as he rasps out a, "Thanks. For helping. And, uh, for the screwdriver. I, uh, I don't know how much-" he holds out the money, "But I'll get more. I promise. I don't have a job yet but I can-"

But Bob's shaking his head. Still smiling, he gently pushes the money back towards Billy.

"Don't be silly, you did all the work. At a push I could take a dollar for the loan of the tools but, uh, hey, I've got a better idea."

He reaches under the counter, pulling out a sheet of paper which he hands over to Billy.

It's an application form.

"We're pretty busy at the weekends," Bob explains as Billy tries to take it all in, "Gary and Lou handle most of the customers, but I could really do with a hand in the back. Repairs and such."

Bob must see the confusion on Billy's face, because he lets out a little chuckle, "I know, I get it. It's not the jazziest of jobs and I can't say the uniform is especially flattering-" he plucks at the collar of his shirt with a grimace "-but, hey, no one minds if we have the radio on back there, so that's a perk, and I'll teach you all you need to know, you've already proved you're more than capable of it. And I gotta tell you, there's a lot to be said for the job satisfaction." For once in their entire conversation, Bob starts to sound serious, "Just picture it, that whole experience of getting something that looks totally broken, all those pieces in a pile on the workbench, and, to start with, you might not know where anything goes or what all the parts are, even, but you know that if you try, if you figure out what all those pieces do and understand why they broke, well then, all you need is a little time and effort and you'll be able to put it all back together again. And, honestly, you can't beat that feeling, sport, you really can't."

It's a lot. Bob almost seems breathless by the end of his little speech, and Billy averts his eyes, staring down at the form in his hands until the words start to blur.

"There's no pressure, of course," Bob says, resting a gentle hand on Billy's shoulder, just for a moment, "But just think about it."

And Billy does.

He thinks about it a whole lot.

(So much credit for this one goes to @ihni and her wonderful Billy and Bob bonding headcanons. We pretty much came up with this whole thing during one of our many chats, and I've definitely borrowed a few of her ideas, I'm just the one who got round to writing it down first!)

#billy hargrove #cherrywrites #not Harringrove #but there is bob newby!! #he's fine‚ ok? i promise #he's alive and well and he'll be getting a new employee soon. probably #also billy gets found family #and he gets competitive over doing brain teasers with bob on their breaks #it happens. i know it

[starandcloud]

Leon Kennedy

TW: M/C death cause I seem to have a thing about killing the MC off ;-;

It's one thing to be a girl who's caught the eye of the Leon Kennedy but, it's a whole other thing to be the only thing keeping him together.

Your gentle smile and loving voice had such an effect on Leon he barely remembered what had pushed his sour mood; and the way you would kiss him softly and tell him everything was going to be alright made him... believe that there was still some light in the world. No matter how dark and torturous the missions got or how close he was to just... snapping.

You were always there. Always making sure he understood that it was going to be okay and that you'd be here for him when he got back or that you'd both survive this. Your reassurance was always enough to make him take a deep breath and clear his mind, you were his candle in the dark. His guiding beacon in the night.

So... seeing you tied to a makeshift cross, burns and slashes going across your stomach and chest made Leon's blood boil. You were his life, his love, his everything. How could he let his happen. The chains held him to the ground, leaving him useless there. He could only watch in horror as cloaked "priests" walked towards you.

"STAY AWAY FROM HER!"

Leon screamed as they inched closer to where your body hung. You were still alive, just barely hanging on. He tugged at the chains as he kept screaming, his vocal cords ached as he yelled your name as the leader of the cloaked lifted a shining knife from a pillow. Raising it above their head, chants left their lips before plowing the knife into your chest. You didn't scream, you couldn't. Your vocal cords were fried, you couldn't speak above a whisper. The same knife slashed the ropes holding you, and your body crashed to the ground.

"GET AWAY FRO-M HER!"

Leon's voice rang out, cracking mid-way through as tears welled in his ocean eyes. He was still pulling at the chains, he had to get to you.

He needed to.

The cloaked disappeared and two shots rang out, the latches holding the chains snapped and Leon collided with the earth. Dirt caking his face as his feet fumbled towards you, the chains tripping him and clanking as he rushed up the wooden stairs where your body now laid. His shaking hands tried to put pressure on the wound, he wouldn't lose you. Not here, not now.

He couldn't...

Your hand gently rested on Leon's wrist, making his frantic attempt stop. His teary eyes looked down at you, your tired and weak eyes staring back up at him. Leon's arms gently pulled you close to him, as he tried not to cry. He sat there gently rocking you as he pressed several gentle kisses to your forehead, quietly telling you that you were gonna be okay and that you'd live.

You both knew he was lying.

The silence stretched on for what seemed like hours before your hand gently, and shakily, cupped his face and rubbed his cheek. Leaving a trail of blood on his skin as you choked out.

"I-I'm not okay... Don't cry Leon, just... don't cry..."

You whispered out as Leon pressed his forehead against yours, kissing your lips gently after you spoke.

"No... yo-u're okay.. Just... Just keep your eyes open for me, please keep your eyes open for me..."

He begged as his voice shook and broke as tears ran down his face. That gentle smile he loved so much pulled itself over your lips as you gently rubbed his cheek again.

"I'm not going home today Leon, we both know this... don't pretend I'm going to, it'll only hurt more..."

Your voice getting quieter and quieter as you spoke made Leon panic, a sob left his lips as he pulled you closer to him and tried to keep you awake. Asking stupid questions about things you enjoyed and what the two of you were going to do when you got back home. You tried to respond the best you could but as you felt Death's icy hands hold you gently and coax you towards the warmth of whatever awaited you after life.

"I love you Leon..."

Were your last words as Death's temptations became a wonderful sound, her gentle hands took yours as she lead you towards the mellow yellow light of the afterlife. Leon's heart stopped as your arm fell and he felt your heart slow to a stop.

"No... nononono NO NO NONONONO!"

Leon yelled as he held you tight to him. Broke sobs fell from him as he clutched your corpse to his body, thinking that if he held you long enough that if he kept you warm that if he talked to you long enough if he said your name enough if he made enough promises if he promised you could paint his nails that he would dye his hair with you and let you put make up on him and hed let you sleep on the outside of the bed and hed stay home and hed take you to your favorite icecreamplace and that hed take vacation and you and him would go to the beach like he always promised if he swore hed let you play with his knife like you always wanted and if he told you that youre the only thing he has left if he begged enough that if he pleaded

youd wake up

if he kissed your forehead enough if he rocked you if he hummed if he brushed your hair from your face if he gave you his jacket to stay warm if he rubbed your back and played with your hair and held your hand lacing his fingers with yours and if he played with your engagement ring and if... where was it.. where was your ring where was your necklace where was your earrings...

where were they..?

Where was everything he bought you because he saw it and thought of you? Where was the ring you promised yourself to him? Where was your locket that held the picture of the lake he proposed? Where were the earrings he was hesitant to buy because they were cheap and he didn't think you should have such cheap jewelry

Leon sat there for a while, just holding you. He lost track of the hours he sat there, hoping praying begging That you'd wake up... A chime on the comms was what brought him back.

"Eagle one? What happened? Did you find Eagle two?"

Leon didn't verbally answer but the choked sob that rattled the comms told Ingrid what had happened. Her typing stopped and she fell back against the chair, her hand shakily covered her mouth as tears pricked her eyes.

"Leon... I'm so... sorry..."

Ingrid's voice shook as Leon went deadly quiet, the two sat in silence for god knows how long before Leon quietly asked.

"Can I bring her home..?" "Of course, all our agents come home Leon..."

Ingrid said as Leon slowly stood up, carefully laying your body on the wooden platform. Gently fixing your hair he let a sad smile dance over his face as he zipped his coat up. He didn't want you cold. Before pressing a final kiss to your forehead and whispering.

"Rest well Darling... I'm sorry..."

Before walking down the platform steps. Each step he took, Leon's thumps became louder and more aggressive. He hadn't notice that Ingrid had hung up by the time he reached the church, he was angry. Angry at the government Angry at the mission Angry at Ingrid Angry at you for dying Angry at himself, for letting you die.

The remainder of the mission, Leon was radio silent. Not a word fell from his lips. Not a witty remark, not a sarcastic come back. Nothing. It wasn't until he was fighting some girl he noticed the jewelry she was wearing.

"Where. The fuck. Did you get those."

Leon demanded as he pinned her against the ground, both of them hitting the marble floor. She grunted before smirking and looking down at the locket, before gently plucking it from where the circle laid.

"What? This? Oh... I pulled it from some bitch that decided to ruin my dolls."

She said, a sly grin on her face. Leon saw red. That locket was yours. The ring was yours. Those earrings were yours. How dare she speak so lowly about you. How dare she steal your belongings. How dare she have such a sly look on her face as she said those words.

The knife pierced her skin and Leon felt the resistance of the girls ribs before he felt the barrier give and the knife stab through her heart. He watched the color drain from her face before taking of the jewelry. Staring down at the disintegrating body below, he stood up. Watching the ash of her body float and dance through the air before disappearing into dust. Leon stood there watching her body turn to dust before leaving. Not a word was said for the rest of the duration of the mission, at least not voluntary words. He'd answer his comms but... his sentences would be short and straight to the point. His typical witty and light banter was gone and he rarely spoke anymore, even when the helicopter arrived and lifted him, even when he saw your body pristinely wrapped in a body bag, even when he was briefing the head of department. Even at your funeral he was quiet, which most people took as offense. If he really loved you, he'd be speaking at your funeral. But... he was the only one that routinely visited your grave after, keeping it clean and bringing you flowers and taking to your grave. You had kept him sane, made his days and nights bright and his darkest moments feel like little bumps in his path. You gave him the strength he needed to get through missions and the hours of paperwork that was required to be filled out after missions. When he wanted to just give up and disappear off the face of the earth, you'd be there with a cup of coffee and that stupid joke book of yours. You were his calm in the storm and now... the only thing he could do was visit your grave and sit. Sit and talk to you, knowing you couldn't answer or give him guidance through this. So he did what he could.

"Hey, what about this one? What's Forest Gump's Facebook password?"

"One Forest One!"

Leon's gentle laughter filled the air, his back was resting against the bark of a tree. It was a purple ash, which was your favorite. He had planted it a few weeks after your funeral, it had grown fast. Eight feet last year, and it was just the start of this growing season. Who knows, maybe it'll grow more. Resting his head back against the tree bark he close his eyes, fiddling with a ring on his finger, he could feel his stress melting away.

"Ya know..? Coming here is always so relaxing, not sure why though. Maybe it's cause you're here Kid, god... if you were still breathing you would've smacked me for calling you that. I hated it when I called you a kid, you're only a few years younger, I know, but you're still just a kid. I guess you'll always be one now huh? I know you said you'd always be one at heart but I think you took it a bit literally this time."

Laughing at his own joke, Leon could feel the ghost of a smile tug at his lips. The first time in almost four years, he'd smiled. Sitting in silence, he listened to the birds and how happily they sang, the rustling of the leaves in the wind eased his mind as he slowly opened his eyes and watched as the sunlight danced through the leaves and onto the limbs of the tree. This was... peaceful. But all good things must come to an end. The silence was disturbed by his phone ringing, sighing in annoyance he answered.

"Yes, this is Leon Kennedy."

He spoke so professionally now. Pushing himself up, Leon balanced the phone between his shoulder and cheek as he set the book back in the box that sat in front of your grave. Something special for you.

"Jesus... Yes, I'll be ready by sundown Sir."

Then the call ended, he sighed and softly smiled at the grave.

"I'll be back soon, I've got to go save the presidents daughter, I'll bring you a gift when I'm done. A souvenir."

Leon promised before quietly walking away, the only thing that showed he was there was the indent in the grass where he sat. Nothing else looked out of place, everything was perfect.

#leon kennedy #leon x reader #re4 leon #resident evil 4 #resident evil leon #Leon Kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #Leon Kennedy x Reader Angst #Leon Kennedy Angst #faeriesberries

[springsteenicious]

This is how Macdennis gets together in season 17. no, it's just a drabble I wrote about them getting together and Mac being super pumped about it. might be slightly OOC I'm still getting used to writing these characters

____

"Okay, try this one," Charlie said, offering two cups of a suspiciously cloudy green beverage to Dee and Frank. 

Dee sniffed the drink. "This smells like vinegar, Charlie, what's in this?"

"That smell would be the vinegar, yeah. Then there's milk and absinthe." 

Dee scowled and put the drink down. Frank shrugged and knocked it back in one go. He made a face afterwards. "Woah! That's intense!" 

Charlie grinned and nodded. "Yeah, that's what I was going for." He looked around the bar. "Where's Dennis? I want him to try it." 

Dee looked around as well. "Yeah, and where's Mac?" 

Suddenly, the door to the back office flew open. Mac burst out, a huge grin on his face. "YES! It finally happened! This is the best day of my life! FUCK YEAH!" He ran behind the bar and hugged Charlie tightly, lifting him off the ground a little. 

"What's happening?" Charlie asked as Dennis came out of the back office as well. 

Dennis sat down calmly next to Dee. "I kissed him." 

"Dennis kissed me!" Mac shouted. 

"Fucking finally," Dee grumbled. "What made you snap?" 

Dennis shrugged. "I'm old as shit, I don't want to keep avoiding it." 

"That's awesome, guys. Mostly for Mac," Charlie said, patting Mac's back since they were still hugging. 

"It's the most awesome thing ever," Mac said. 

Charlie finally peeled away from the hug and pushed Dee's neglected glass towards Dennis. "Try this drink I made." 

"It's vinegar, milk, and absinthe," Dee said. 

Dennis frowned. "No. That's disgusting, Charlie." 

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Fine. Mac?" 

Mac moved his hand to pick up the glass, but Dennis gave him a look. "If you drink that, I'm not kissing you again for at least a week." 

"You're gonna kiss me again?" Mac asked, grinning and moving away from the drink. 

"What? Yeah. Why wouldn't I- Whatever. Don't drink that shit." 

"So are you two, like, boyfriends now?" Frank asked. 

"Are we?" Mac asked Dennis. 

"Sure." 

Mac pumped his fist several times, chanting, "Yes, yes, yes!" 

"You're such a loser," Dennis said. When Mac's celebration turned to pouting, Dennis amended, "It's cute, though." Mac beamed and pumped his fist again. 

"This is seriously the greatest thing to ever happen to me," Mac said. 

"Since when do you like men, Dennis?" Frank asked. 

"Since always," Dennis said. 

"What? No way," Mac said. 

"Yes way. I experimented in college and I've been banging guys ever since. I just never told anyone." 

"I don't believe you," Mac said. "Why wouldn't you tell us?" 

Dennis gives him a look. "You were always banging extension cords together and talking about how the gays are going to hell, why would I tell you that I liked men?" 

"Oh. Sorry. Why didn't you say anything after I came out, though?" 

"You were way too clingy and I didn't want to be with you just yet." Dennis shook his head. "It doesn't matter. We all know now, we're together, it's fine." 

Mac giggled. "We're together." 

"I think you broke Mac, dude," Charlie said. 

"I've just been waiting for this moment for so long I can't believe it's actually happening," Mac said. "Thirty years is such a long time to wait." 

"I know," Dennis said. 

"You can't complain! You're the reason we waited thirty years!" Mac said. 

"I am not! If you were more comfortable with your sexuality we would have been together in our twenties!" Dennis said. 

Mac sighed. "Okay, fine. But you're definitely the reason we didn't get together when I came out!" 

"Sure, whatever." 

Mac smiled and turned to the rest of the gang. "Okay, next matter of business: How soon is too soon to say I love him?" 

"I'm right here, dipshit," Dennis said. 

"Five minutes is definitely too soon," Dee said. 

Charlie shrugged. "I don't know. You've been saying you love him since we were, like, twenty-eight." 

"But that was in a friend way," Mac said. 

"You can say it whenever, just don't expect me to say it back," Dennis said. 

"You don't love me?" Mac asked, a pitiful look befalling his face. 

"Yeah, I do, but I'm not saying it," Dennis said. 

Mac's mouth dropped open in a silent scream. Then he turned and grabbed Charlie by the shoulders. "Is this real? You heard that? I'm not dreaming?" 

"It's real, dude, chill out," Charlie said. 

"I just can't believe Dennis actually loves me back." Mac let go of Charlie and turned back to Dennis. "I love you." 

Dennis smiled a little. "I know." Mac leaned across the bar and kissed Dennis. Dennis moved his hands to cup Mac's face, keeping him in the kiss. 

"Boo! We don't wanna watch you two faggots making out all the time," Frank said. 

They broke apart. "We got together literally five minutes ago, let us have this," Mac said. 

"Actually, Mac, I think we should go home," Dennis said. "We should celebrate our new relationship properly without these idiots around." 

"You're so right, Dennis." Mac came back around the bar as Dennis stood from his seat. Then Mac easily picked Dennis up bridal-style, making Dennis shout in surprise. "See you losers tomorrow." With that, Mac carried Dennis out of the bar.

"Good for them," Charlie said. "Now, I'm gonna have those guys try my drink." He set up another round of vinegar milk drinks to bring to the old guys in one of the booths.

#its always sunny in philadelphia #macdennis #drabble #mac mcdonald #dennis reynolds

[autisticmao]

GENRE: neutral - zombie apocalypse hinted au

FEATURED: joel

WARNINGS: mentions of death, ooc, indefinite ending

PROMPT: etho stays with joel in his lasting moments before turning. (spoilers: he doesn't actually turn here... sad sigh. if only i could complete this-)

WORD COUNT: unknown, this is a tumblr only oneshot, so- (id say around 300-500 if estimated though.)

"You know there's no turning back, right?"

"Do you mean that literally or-"

"You know what I mean, Joel." Etho frowns from where he sat on the other side of the wooden cabin, eyes casting in a shadow of worry as he reeled his focus onto the other, interrupting the other male from his jokes. Usually, he wouldn't mind his jokes. Joel's jokes were like a sparkling star across the infinite sky, but with the situation that the two of them were both in right now... Etho just couldn't quite handle it.

To put it quite simply, a zombie apocalypse broke out, and death mauled most of the population of humanity to the grounds. No one knew how the situation came to be or why the apocalypse is such a thing to happen right then. It was a literal moment of expecting the unexpected. There's no such thing as impossible moments in the world.

"Geez... I miss the others." Joel bows his head for a moment.

Etho's ears perk with attention, brows furrowing with. "Now you say that? After laughing and calling everybody 'weak' from dying? What made you change your mind, Joel?"

"Not like that! My mind is still settled in the same way as before! I... miss... the chaos."

"Of course you do." Etho bows his head down for a moment with a sigh.

"Well, I mean... the way that Grian died was kind of funny, don't you think? I mean the way he-"

"Joel!" His voice echoes beyond the cabin, Joel stops in the middle of his sentence and winces at Etho's shout as he whispered out a quick apology not long after.

Silence covers the duo in the cabin with slow paced time. Invisible ticking was made, and every second was wasted on useless breaths.

"Can you at least remind me why I am tied up to this chair, then?" Joel suddenly asked after a minute had gone by, his figure writhed at the uncomfortable wooden chair he was forced to sit on, rope that still had some strength within itself wrapped tightly around him, latching him to the chairs surface. He wanted to get up and walk about, maybe kill some zombies, he doesn't know. Just anything that could get him moving.

Etho peeked. "You... don't remember?" They were just talking about precautions ten minutes previously, Etho tuts silently to himself.

A noise of confusion emits from Joel's lips as he then knocks his head to the side, "not exactly. Am I supposed to?"

The ashen haired male frowns at the one with umber eyes, now realising the details of his state. His skin was turning a horrid colour. Joel's umber shaded glance was dulling within quick minutes, and he seemed to be fidgeting more and more as time went. He really wished, for just once, that time would stop pushing the days forward. He's already lost plenty of his friends. He can't lose Joel, too.

Maybe his state is the reason why he's so hyper, wishing for fun upon those who are dead, Etho thought sharply to himself in his mind.

Hesitancy stringed his tongue to the bottom of his mouth, unsure whether he should tell Joel the truth or not. If he said the words out loud, it would only bring the reality closer to his heart than Etho wanted.

But with the glance he was being given by Joel... it was like as though lying was never an option for him. Lying wasn't a meaning of words to use by him. Only the truth existed.

His lips part as he spoke, letting his empty mind take control as his vocal cords worked along with it.

"You're infected, Joel."

//that line isn't the ending, i am just not sure how to end this oneshot, and i want this out of my drafts already. please take it with kindness. i am so drained of life right now, heh... ♡

#character joel and character etho #joel smallishbeans #smalletho #smalletho fanfic #smallishbeans fanfiction #smallishbeans #ethoslab fanfiction #ethoslab #etho #boat boys #oneshot #mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #fanfic writing

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

i drew Diana. not quite sure how i feel about it but oh well.

goth girls, y'know.

since I've made aaron's fur pattern white, i thought his goth girlfriend deserved the red and black fur pattern he had.

some other Diana hcs:

she can sing really well, but avoids it unless its for a gig. She doesn't want to wreck her voice. She has a very soft singing voice too, so thankfully it's not too much on her vocal cords 80% of the time. But you can never be too safe. She will hum along to music occasionally.

I have lore about a dog-goth style in my rewrite which Diana slowly starts getting more interested in towards the end of college, though he's more vamp-goth before that. I could get into the Dog-Goth of my rewrite but oh you don't want me to. Because then I'd have to get into the werewolf punk scene i made up in my head.

She's always been very slight, but she's trying to bulk up some muscle mass. She's also quite tall ( about 6'3) but is the smallest in her band. Since they're all werewolves. And werewolves can casually be like 6'5 and no one bats an eye at that.

He grew up with punk parents, and therefore punk ideology. They were very supportive of him, and so he had a pretty nice upbringing.

She speaks quite monotone in her day-to-day life (though her singing is quite expressive). and so her and Aaron are matchy matchy with that. Autism-bonding and all.

He does not dress up every day. He usually slaps on some eyeliner, maybe some light makeup, and leaves it at that. and just throws on a nice shirt and skirt. He's got no time to make himself look fancy if he's tryna get through college with any shred of sanity left.

She shaved the tails of her eyebrows off. which are why her eyebrow piercings are BELOW her eyebrow (which she draws on). She carries around tweezers to pluck the hair that grows back in when she's bored in her lectures. Or in a dull conversation.

He's transfem, and uses he/her pronouns. People tend to over-correct and only use she/her pronouns for him but nah. BOTH. Obviously only using one or another in a conversation is fine. But only one for like ever? Nah. Nah.

I'm dianron dirt till i die. She occasionally goes through his spotify to judge the music he has on there, or 'make it good'. She put one of her band's songs on his longest playlist and he didn't realise until a few months after they broke up. He still listens to it after because like... Di can sing, y'know.

He self-labels as Queer, sexuality-wise.

She wears platform boots to feel taller. Especially when with Aaron, since it's embarrassing to be rocking around with a human that's taller than her. (She knows he's a werewolf, she just isn't a total dickhead and lets everyone else continue thinking he's a werewolf). He's still taller.

He met Ken when he caught Ken smoking weed in their highschool bathroom. They ended up sharing and talking about cryptids for the whole next period.

Ken is also on the band. He plays drums. Diana once broke his drumsticks because he wouldn't stop hitting everyone like they were drums. She bought him new ones for his birthday because she felt bad.

Him and Blaze are cousins. Their mothers are sisters.

#aphmau #aphverse #rewrite #aphblr #mystreet #falcon claw university #diana fcu

[batvvvvv]

next up is this guy!!! i went through...several cords trying to get my tablet to connect while i worked on this but here he is nonetheless! info below the cut once again

edward's parents wanted a daughter who was polite, patient, and well-behaved; someone to carry on their (so-called) respectable lineage. instead, they got a rude, loud-mouthed, and shockingly brilliant little girl who made it very clear he wouldn't be controlled.

it was clear from the start that school was... not for him. he was loud and inattentive, a smartass with no filter. a born problem child! but he wasn't trying to be troublesome; he just didn't understand. people, he would later learn, were just like puzzles. but this was one he couldn't solve yet.

in 6th grade he told his mom he was a boy; she told him he was being ridiculous and thought that'd be the end of it. eddie nashton, having named himself that day, felt otherwise. so he cut his hair and quit trying to please people. they thought he was obnoxious? good! they're all just jealous!

school was hell, between bullies and his own, rapidly declining mental health, but he bore it with a grin and eventually got out with a 4.0 gpa and a fuck-you to everyone. he changed his name to Edward Nygma, and vanished.

life on his own was... not easy, but eventually he scraped enough money together for his own place. then, his time was spent devouring every bit of news about the wave of heists that was hitting gotham, before supercrime was in fashion.

ed becomes obsessed with these crimes, how they were executed and, more importantly, how they failed. the criminals ALWAYS got caught! if they did it like this, they could've gotten away with it! then he thinks: hey, if i did it like this, i could get away with it! so, to prove how dumb these criminals are and because he's broke edward plans a heist.

it goes perfectly, until he's walking out the door. he knows he's done everything right but his head screams that he's going to be caught, unless he leaves something behind on purpose. so he scrawls a riddle on the floor and books it!!

they don't catch him. he'd left a CLUE, and those idiots still failed! with his ego in the stratosphere, he tries again! and again, and again, each time leaving a clue behind. the riddler hits the newspapers and, while he finds the name a bit silly, it's a kind of attention he didn't know he'd been dying for.

he upsizes. his crimes get more elaborate, until he's living in an apartment 2x the size, and everyone has heard the riddler's name. then he slips up, and the cops show up during his next exploit. he panics, takes a hostage, and sets off on a grandiose speech about how they're all BUGS, insignificant compared to the enigma. this buys him time to flee!

he tries to lay low, and finds he can't stop himself. he goes mad with the tedium of regular life, fearing he'll lose his mind if he doesn't do something.

so the riddler returns full-force, evolved into much more than a petty robber, and much more than anyone ever expected of him.

#TUMBLR WOULD NOT STOP TRYING TO POST THIS BEFORE IT WAS DONE!! #this ones a bit longer than the others lol #jonathan is next! #batman au #batman v #edward nygma #the riddler #riddler dc #ref

[marzipanandminutiae]

I was looking at the Nantucket whaling museum's exhibit on scrimshaw corset busks yesterday and I had a couple questions I thought I'd send you, since I know that there's a lot of bad information about corsets out there.

The exhibit said the scrimshaw busks likely weren't used, which struck me as odd--it seems like the idea of your wife or sweetheart wearing the busk close to her heart would be part of the value of the gift. Would corset busks be at risk of damage from ordinary wear? Do you know if there's any evidence one way or another for the scrimshaw busks being worn, or not?

Also, the exhibit said that early nineteenth century corsets only had the single busk for support, and it wasn't until the 1830s that corsets started to have multiple, smaller whalebone stays throughout. Is that right? It just seems like it wouldn't work very well, and it seems odd that multiple stays would be used in the 18th century and then go away and then come back in the mid 19th century. Unless they mean that the corsets were mainly stiffened with cording?

I would question most of that, yeah.

Busks CAN get broken while you're wearing them. I have a friend who broke the (wooden) busk in her Regency stays by putting all her weight against the thin piece at the top of a railing. The focused pressure with the weight behind it snapped her busk in half inside the stays. So I guess I see why an especially cautious woman might not use the busk carved for her by a loved one?

That being said...they were made to be used. To be worn next to one's heart, as you said. While one can theoretically break a busk in the course of everyday wear, I feel like it wasn't a universal certainty. So to say that they were never used seems a bit of a stretch.

Now, it's possible they meant that the examples there displayed likely weren't ever used, and that I'd be more willing to believe. Not sure I think that would be easy to determine- what wear would show on a busk, given its placement within the garment? But I haven't studied busk wear patterns, so maybe there's a telltale sign that I'm not thinking of.

The other half is easier to address: it's BS. While cording was a popular method of stiffening corsets in the late 18th-early 19th centuries (and remained so pretty much until the end of the Corset Era), they absolutely could have other boned areas besides just the busk. Sure, "busk and cording/quilting only" models did exist; they just weren't the only option.

(Short stays, 1795-1800, V&A Collection. See those casings? Those are for baleen bones.)

(Corset/long stays, c. 1825-35, V&A Collection. There are definitely two bones on either side of the busk, and some channels on the front hip area that could be for bones or wide cording; uncertain which.)

I'll take "interpretation issues that could be solved with a judiciously placed 'often'' for $500, Alex

#ask #aldebaran k5iii #dress history #corsets #stays #fashion history

[morgansunflower]

No Matter What 2/2

Bruce Wayne X Wife! Reader

Warnings:suggestive content, child-abuse(accused not acted), childbirth, character injury, and heavy angst

Words: 1200

Requested taglist/by @too-strong-to-lose @fancywinnerzinepasta

"push!" the doctor ordered, I pushed screaming out.

Bruce was standing beside me. My knees bent upward as he held my hand. The hours of intense pain, had only made me weaker by the second. I was only wearing my hospital gown that was a v neck.

"his head is out, breathe Mrs. Wayne" I breathe for a moment as Bruce uses a cloth to wipe away my sweat. "it's time to push again, and then you'll have your son"

I pushed "AHHHH!!!" suddenly I feel less pain, I take a shaky breath and then see my little boy. I began to cry.

"he's precious" Bruce mumbled as Damian cried in the doctors arms.

"Mr Wayne would like to cut the umbilical cord"

Bruce steps to cut the umbilical cord. They lay Damian on my chest. The afterbirth soon left after. Bruce leans over to me and kisses Damian's head. I was still crying as I held my newborn. Bruce kisses my lips.

"I'm so proud of you"

Month later I lay Damian in his crib as he sleeps. I just finished nursing my baby. It was 2:30 in the morning and Bruce just arrived home. I step to my bedroom I share with my husband. I see Bruce on his laptop. My heart falls to my gut hearing the old recording of the investigator questioning Bruce. He quickly cuts it off as I enter the room. He clears his throat with his jaw clenched tightly. He tried to make himself calm down. I knew he was hoping I wouldn't catch him.

"darling" he mumbled.

"Bat" I said back.

I take a shaky breath. It was right after we lost Jason that the investigation began. The whole ordeal was horrible. They investigated me, asking if he'd ever hurt me. They even questioned Dick asking about his childhood. I walk to the bed and take the laptop. I put it on our dresser. Bruce takes a deep breath. I walk back to him and hold his face in my hands. I lay my forehead on his and put my hands on his neck, sitting on the bed.

"have you not been through enough torture? Why are you watching something that will only bring you pain?"

"to clear the fog of where I went wrong" his eyes began to shake as his face fell.

"you have me for that and I will be very clear. You did everything you could have done to save him. He thinks that you not killing Joker means you never loved him, but that's far from the truth" I lay my head on his chest and wrap my arms around him "I stand by you. Don't hold your guard up with him. Learn to trust him again.. Let him see how much you love him. He's your son, treat him just as that. Be happy at they very least he's alive"

Bruce holds me close kissing me "I can't lose him again Y/N" he brokenly said a tear falling down his face.

"you won't" I kiss him needing to feel closer to him.

2 years later...

Jason's P. O. V

"Jason!! Son!!!" I hear a sharp whistling "where are you?!!"

I groan, halfway opening my eyes laying on my stomach my whole body burning in pain. My helmet busted and jaw bleeding. I blink twice seeing two sets of footsteps.... I hear, beeping I hear Mom's barely audible voice. I can hear my brother whining in her arms.

"shh it's OK Damian he'll be OK" her voice quavering

I feel her rub my forehead. I felt too weak to open my own eyes or let my mouth open to say anything. I hear a loud crash of something falling.

"Bruce" Mom softly said to him, he must've broke something.

"this is my fault to begin with. I should have been a better.. A better father. Even the world believes I--" he stammered

"don't you dare!" Mom demanded "d-don't you dare. I know you love him. That we love him. They didn't know how much it killed you to lose him. How much he was truly your son, our son. How much it nearly destroyed us. We love him and--" she began to cry "we always will, even when he can't see it. Look at, him Bruce. He's here, he's breathing.. Our little boy is home"

3 days later.. I can't stand this. I'm about to really break. Deep down I want to, so I can finally begin to heal. I wait to hear Bruce leave for patrol and mom leave so I can make my escape. I still had bandaging on my chest and arms. I walk to the elevator maybe my bike is in the front of the Manor. I walk through the hallway to hear a soft cooing sound. I peep into the living room seeing Damian playing with Ace. The German Shepard sniffed Damian's feet making the kid laugh. I softly smile.. Not cute! Don't get sucked in. Ace barked to me and walked to me wagging his tail.

"hey pal. You miss me?"

Damian walked to me giving me a playful glare. I squint my eyes at my little brother. He bites my leg.

"owe! Dami!!" I yelled in annoyance.

He let's go and then began to laugh.

"oh you think that's funny"

I reach down tickling him. He pushes my hand away with a grin on his face.

"ah not too tough are you?" I laugh tickling his neck.

I stopped for a moment ruffling his black hair. He then hugged my arm. I take a deep breath.

"I'm glad you made it out of bed. You're really good with him, I should let you babysit him" Mom said entering the room.

"absolutely not. I can't stand kids.." that was a lie. I would love taking care of the twerp, he's.. Cute.

"oh by the way your motorcycle is in the garage. As I've said many times before you're in no condition to leave"

I sit on the chair while Mom sat in front of me in another chair. This is so hard. I can't expect her to forgive me. Guess my chance of escape as gone from 6 to zero.

"how are you?" she asked me

"I.. Don't know how to really answer that.."

"I know you are trying to be strong but even Batman has his breaking point. Even he needs help to stand back up.. I can't stand to watch you torture each other and yourselves Jason. We want you to stay here. I'm not saying it'll be easy or you won't have set backs, but I want you to be surrounded by those who truly miss you and love you. So you can began to heal from.. From everything"

"I.. Can't.. Not.. After" I try my hardest to prevent the tears from to fall from my eyes.

"yes you can. I forgive you, Bruce forgives you. All we want is for to be apart of this family again"

I knew better to assume she's lying about Bruce. Damian grips finger bending it in different directions.

I know it'll be hard but maybe.. Maybe I really can heal "I guess I could stay.. For a while.."

#batfamily #Batmom #Bruce Wayne X Reader #Jason Todd X Batmom #Childbirth #Baby Damian Wayne #Blood #Injured Jason Todd #Fluff #Hurt #Comfort #child abuse #Only mentioned and never acted upon #ace the bathound #Crying #Angst #Bruce Wayne needs a hug

[reallyromealone]

BB 😌

I IS HERE WITH A REQUEST 😭💖

Remember the mikey x takemichi’ brother reader smut you wrote? Can like there be a part two (non smut 💀) like mikey takes reader to his base and then just them being love birds coz like i am lacking in fluff 😔

HOW YOU DOIN

HOWS MY GIRL LILY 😼

I do remember it, I sure fucking can my broski

And had my child reader fluff NOT PLEASED YOU ?!

and I'm good 💖 my aunt got bird pooped yesterday so 💅

And she's terrible she sucks, she keeps chewing cords.

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

Mikey woke before (name), staring down his boyfriend with a possessive look as he gently stroked his cheek and just took him in.

God, he missed him.

Gently he kissed the other before pulling out and watching last night's events leak out before going to the bathroom and and getting a wash cloth to clean him up, knowing (name) hated the feeling of cum in his ass all day.

Mikey was thankful he took his car last night as he put (name) in a set of pajamas and wrapped him in a blanket before carrying him off to said vehicle carefully.

(Name) had always been a heavy sleeper.

No one was expecting Mikey to walk in with Hanagakis brother, the young man passed out in Mikey's arms "hm? Is he a prisoner boss?" Shion asked curiously, excited at the possibility of torturing him but immediately stopped those thoughts when Mikey turned and stared at all of them "If any of you touch him I will kill you" his voice grave as he walked towards his room where he set (name) down and watched him intently, finally he was where he was supposed to be.

With Mikey.

He had Sanzu get breakfast for the two, Mikey began waking his boyfriend and looking soft when (name) opened his eyes.

"Morning baby" Mikey's voice was unusually soft, a tone only reserved for (name) and (name) alone "morning... Where am I?"

"At Kanto base, it's safer here"

(Name) struggled a bit waking up as Sanzu returned with their food "hey Sanzu..." (Name) mumbled, unsure what to make of the pink haired man who was either lukewarm to him or a little creepy because he was Mikey's boyfriend.

Before mikey and (name) broke up he constantly called (name) his 'queen' which was a little weird not gonna lie.

"Oh you didn't need to bring breakfast!" (Name) fussed, in Hanagaki fashion be began fretting slightly only for Mikey to shush him "you need to eat, last night took a lot of energy from you"

(Name) blushed at the memory of the night before as Sanzu stepped out to give them privacy "I-I still don't wanna choose sides... I care a lot about you both..."

"Don't worry baby soon you won't have to" Mikey said resolutely as he began feeding (name) (breakfast of choice), the couple eating together happily and (name) distracted by the almost grave tone in his voice.

The two were practically glued to the hip as mikey kept him close, kissing him gently and generally making sure (name)s eyes were only on him.

He had Mikey, he didn't need to look at anyone else.

The Kanto men remembered (name) well, though he was never in gang stuff be was a constant especially when they began dating and when they broke up, Mikey made them hunt through the city to find him.

They refrained from talking how they planned on beating his brother and loved ones and possibly killing them.

Mikey wouldn't be happy if (name) was upset.

Mikey looked pleased as he draped his jacket over (name), a sense of ownership washed over the blond as he gently kissed (name)s neck infront of the others "m-mikey! Not here!"

"Hmm? Why not?" Mikey said not stopping his kisses "because they're watching".

"Are they?" Mikey asked and glanced to see if they were in fact watching and all the men quickly made themselves look busy "please Mikey..."

(Name) was honestly the only person who Mikey would listen too.

And the only person who would make him actually listen to the meeting.

The day was spent like this, Mikey practically carrying (name) everywhere and the two sharing food and just generally being disgustingly cute together.

It was unsettling to see Mikey so domestic with another person and even sharing his snacks with the Hanagaki.

"I missed you so much..." Mikey mumbled as they kissed sweetly, the gang leader deciding to stay in tonight and watch movies on his bed with (name), already mentally planning on how to get (name) to move in with him so he couldn't leave his side again.

"I missed you too..." (Name) was a weak man, he knew he was and he knew the backlash he would get from his brother and his friends but he couldn't find it in him to care as be undid the hair tie on Mikey's head and gently raked through the locks of blond, Mikey snuggling into his chest like a child.

For the first time in a while (name) felt content and he didn't want the feeling to stop.

#tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #mikey tokyo revengers #mikey x reader #male reader

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Yellow City, Chapter One - a Malevolent AU

A continuation of Cloud City, because some people (@flamdoodles @thescentofwhiteroses) wouldn't stop inspiring me.

---------

The best time of any case was the end—when the perp was about to be caught, when the mystery was about to be solved, when the wrong was about to be made right.

When he plunged through the door and ran down the criminal (followed closely by his partner, of course) and socked the bad guy right in the nose, and tackled him down until the coppers could come, and—

Tentacles flailing (of course there were) but that’s where his partner came in with such a dark and terrible chuckle, pinning the perp limb to limb so Arthur could sit astride him and pronounce: “You’ve been caught red-handed!”

Nothing felt

(Hastur, what in fuck is your pet doing?)

so good as

(Whatever he wants, Tog’Mth. It’s delightful.)

taking down the bad guy mid-bad. “The judge is gonna throw the book at you.”

“Get off of me, you lunatic human,” snarled the perp, twisting in displeasure.

“Officer, arrest this man!” Arthur cried.

“He is cuffed and his rights have been read,” rumbled his partner.

Excellent. “So ends the case of the missing clock,” said Arthur.

Oh, that laugh, it sounded so wicked, but it was his partner, it wasn’t wicked— “I thought it was the case of the roaring engine.”

Arthur paused. The roaring… en… but he…

He couldn’t remember. There was something was off about this, about the situation, about…

“Get off me, fool!” said the perp, twisting like perps did.

Arthur snapped back to the present and knew the cops wouldn’t mind if he roughed this guy up a little. The case of the missing engine was a big deal, after all. He used his fists (which seemed absurd because they bounced off the perp like rubber but it didn’t matter), and told them just what kind of a scumbag they were until his partner

(This isn’t funny!)

(I disagree.)

pulled him off and reminded him which side of the law he was on. “Now, now,” his partner said, voice low and amused. “We’re the good guys, are we not?”

“Yeah,” gasped Arthur, who’d worked himself into sweating and panting and had forgotten why except fight it fight it was the reason but for what he couldn’t recall.

“What a good detective you are,” his partner confirmed, that weird happy rumble like a passing train buzzing all through him.

And he was. A good detective. One of the good guys. “Learn your lesson and it won’t happen again,” he said to the perp

(Ridiculous, the perp said, completely unharmed)

because he was a good guy and didn’t like to behave that way.

“You are in need of rest,” said his partner, who didn’t know anything.

“No,” argued Arthur. “You don’t know anything. I’ve got to… I’ve got to…”

“Yes, Arthur?”

Something. Something big. Something that would challenge all his skills and power of will, something that might leave him changed after he… after…

He swayed on his feet, and his partner caught him.

(Your toy is self-destructing.)

(No. No, he merely needs a nap.)

“Hey, Hastur,” Arthur said, because he couldn’t remember. “What did we… what… the last client, what was the next job we took?”

“The case of the murdered daughter,” his partner said with such dark and awful glee, and—

Like touching an unshielded cord, like getting blackjacked in the head, like—

No, no, no, this was wrong, it’s all wrong, this wasn’t what he—

FAROE!

Darkness.

#

Arthur woke and weathered the morning vertigo, the moment of spinning awfulness that always greeted him upon waking, the world too sharp and too golden and too much, and then he adjusted (broke) and saw what he needed to see.

“Good morning, Arthur,” said his partner, who never fucking seemed to sleep.

Arthur rolled out of bed, sliding out from under those heavy, strong (tentacles) arms and staggering toward the kitchen. “Morning. Any word on the case?”

“Which case, Arthur?” his partner purred, that impossible sound Arthur had never been able to comprehend but needed like water.

“The… the one with…” He loaded up the coffeemaker. “The shoes!”

“The shoes?” said his partner.

It would come to him in a minute. He just needed caffeine. “Yeah. The Wastes! That’s right. Tracked in mud from the Wastes, which should be impossible, so that guy is either a monster in disguise, or he’s got some weird protection we all need to know about, and we’ve been hired to learn which and why.”

“That’s quite creative,” said Hastur, sliding the flexile tip of one tentacle from his hip to his chest. “And who has hired us for this?”

“The mayor,” said Arthur.

“Oh? Quite prestigious.”

“Nobody else has the balls to look into this, but like hell are we letting some monster into our city,” said Arthur.

“Commendable.”

“Yeah.” For one moment, the simple round carafe in his hands transformed. Became something sharp, hardly for holding, hardly for coffee, a bright and terrible amber.

He dropped it.

Hastur caught it.

“Good… good catch,” said Arthur, leaning on the counter, closing his eyes, letting the room spin it out.

“Perhaps rest is not enough, after all,” Hastur rumbled, coming up behind him, so warm, so large, so familiar. “A shame. I have enjoyed our adventures.”

“What?” said Arthur, and shook it off. “We gotta get going.”

“Oh, we do?” More tentacles, resting on his thighs, wriggling almost ticklish against his ribs.

“Yeah. Gotta…” Go. Had to go, had to run, had to fight… something. “Head fucking hurts today. How much did I drink last night?”

“Oh,” said Hastur. “A few too many, as always.”

But that was lying. He hadn’t had alcohol last night. He…

Remembered the warmth and heat and tightness around his cock, remembered the grip of many limbs as he was torn open, sundered and filled, shouted himself hoarse with pleasure… but no, there’d been no alcohol.

He blinked, and it was gone. “Had to be scotch. I hate scotch.”

“Indeed, you do,” agreed his partner.

“Let’s go.”

“You haven’t had your coffee.”

“Fuck coffee.”

“That sounds painful.”

Hastur was too amused, and Arthur scowled at him. “This is serious! She’s missing!”

The slightest pause, and the world wobbled, shifting in his gaze, his grungy office wavering like heat lines over something else that hurt to see.

“She is, is she?” said Hastur softly.

“Yes! The mayor’s… the daughter. We’ve got to find her.” His voice cracked. His heart hurt. He didn’t know why. “We’ve got to find her, Hastur! Please!”

The sigh was long and slow. “That’s too many times this month you’ve gone there yourself,” he said.

“What?” said Arthur. The room wouldn’t stop moving. Scotch, it had to be.

“I may do it when you need to rest,” he said. “But you seem to be… trying to wake up. And in your current circumstance, Arthur, you’d break quite permanently, and I can’t have that.”

This all meant things, these words really meant things, and he could almost grasp them, almost remember them, almost, almost, almost…

“Perhaps we can play this game again in the future,” Hastur said. “But now, my little detective… it is time to wake up.”

“Wake up?” said Arthur, gritting his teeth, tasting strange metal, clenching at the tingling in his hands. “I’m fucking awake!”

“Remember Faroe,” Hastur said, and the world shattered with the sound of broken glass.

His scream ruptured through him, fountaining out like from some arterial spray, and Arthur fell (and Hastur caught him) as memory of firing his gun of learning the truth of clutching her cold, blood-sticky body in his arms twisted and choked and malformed his heart.

“You’re almost there,” Hastur purred as if this was all so delicious, and Arthur fought.

And Arthur passed out.

#

He woke.

The room hurt, was sharp, was too much.

Darkness again.

#

He woke. The god was too bright, hurt behind his eyes and in his skull somehow like knives, and he screamed.

Darkness again.

#

He woke.

Darkness remained.

And Arthur remembered it all.

#

He lay in the dark, aware that it was never dark in this horrible place, aware of Hastur there, huge, horrifying (so intimately known), aware of… of…

Had that all been a dream? A fever dream? No; it hadn’t. He’d gone mad. That’s what. Completely bug-fuck crazy. “What happened?” he whispered.

“You drank my insanity like a thirsting hummingbird,” Hastur said, sounding so fucking pleased. “It was delightful. However, it began to erode your mind, so I decided you needed a break.”

Like this had all been a walk in the park, a mild diversion, a fussy plant that needed pruned. Like this had all been normal, expected, absolutely fine, but Arthur remembered being dragged through the mirror like piercing the skin of a giant beast, remembered feeling peeled and raw and heated in the light of a new world (further than he even knew was possible to go), remembered seeing this place of more dimensions than made sense in his brain, remembered Hastur laughing—

Remembered the sound of that laugh shaking him like a rattling box of teeth, loose and unconnected. Remembered…

Arthur shook. “How… how long have I been here?”

“Three years.”

No. Three years? His breath quickened. “No. No, I… wait.”

Delicate and flexible tentacle tips slid over him, monstrously affectionate, demonically intimate, nightmarishly familiar. “For?”

“Wait!” Arthur shoved at the tentacles and rolled away.

And off what was apparently his bed and onto the floor with a heavy thunk. “Ow!”

Hastur laughed, low and sadistic.

“Fuck. Fuck…” Arthur reached around him, found some kind of furniture—a chest of drawers, or something—and pulled himself to his feet. “Would it fucking kill you to turn on the lights?”

“The lights are on, Arthur.”

“Sure. Right. Asshole.” Real, it was real, all his fractured memories were real, but he couldn’t piece them back together to form one reasonable portrait.

Three years? He’d been completely insane for three years, and could feel the truth of it in his bones.

He was panicking. Breathing too hard, frozen in this cruel dark, unsure where to run.

“Now, is that really necessary?” Hastur rumbled, sounding pleased as punch. “You’re safe. You’re in perfect health.”

“Three years.” His voice cracked. “Doing who knows what, out of my mind. I’m in hell.”

“On the contrary! You’ve had your way rather consistently, and been happy for it. My indulgence has quite ruined my reputation,” Hastur said, sounding far from displeased about it.

Indulgence?

A decayed scene, its edges cutting in the remembrance—Arthur had initiated contact, intimacy, seduction. “What in fuck?” he whispered.

“They’re all terribly jealous,” Hastur explained unprompted. “You’re such a unique human.”

“I’m…” Three years lost, sodden with madness, sharp with broken edges. “What… what did you do to me?”

He jumped as a light tentacle-tip slid down his spine. “Healed you,” said Hastur, and caught Arthur’s wrist when his desperate twist away nearly sent him to the floor. “I was hardly going to let you die—the contract would be violated. What you did after that in your madness was all on you.”

“I…” remembered racing around Cloud City, finding missing persons, confronting evil, making a difference—

Remembered (in flashes, glimpses, blink-and-it’s-gone) racing around Hastur’s palace, around this impossible place and up walls and onto parapets, tackling random beings and accusing them of crimes.

Solving. Making right. Mattering. It was so obvious what he’d wanted to do, and why, and Arthur crouched down. He couldn’t help sobbing, and covered his mouth.

“Now, why the tears?” Hastur rumbled.

“You don’t understand. You never did,” Arthur said, wiping his face. “This isn’t right.”

And Hastur went there first: “I suppose you’d have preferred to simply be tortured the way you’d fantasized for Faroe’s killer?”

Arthur choked. “How dare you?” The rage helped a little; refocused the panic, made it more graspable. “Yes! How dare you!”

“Then you should have specified. It seems to me I’m fulfilling my end of things quite nicely.”

“You son of a bitch, turn on the light so I can fucking fight you,” Arthur said.

Hastur laughed, rattling him (teeth in a box), tremoring through his nerves like familiar bliss. “You wish to fight your god?”

Arthur wiped his eyes. Three years. He wasn’t supposed to still be alive. His daughter… “Afraid I’ll hate what you did to me? What’d you do, tattoo me? Turn on the damn lights!”

“As you wish, little detective,” Hastur rumbled with eagerness, and then—

Oh, he could see, he could see, and regretted it for all of a second before adapting (breaking) again, something in his mind going crack, taking in the room (too big) and the god (too big) and all so golden and wrong-angled and glorious, and he reached for Hastur with a desperation in need of an anchor and a hunger in need of pain, and Hastur chortled as he drew him in and the curtains fell yet one more time.

#

So predictable.

That’s what Hastur had said. Arthur remembered, and he was pissed the second he woke.

It was dark again, too. “Godsdamnit!”

“You’re too rational, Arthur,” Hastur soothed like that would mean anything. “You immediately try to fit all this place is into your mind instead of letting it flow over you, simply experiencing and accepting it.”

“Fuck you! The lights!”

“You know it isn’t the lights.”

Arthur did. For his own protection, he was blind.

He lay beneath a pile of impossible limbs, warm and heavy and strong, smooth and dry, comforting (No they weren’t! They couldn’t be!), and he couldn’t see a thing.

And…

He sobbed.

“Shhh. There, there.” Hastur stroked his hair. “A little while in sanity, catching your breath, and then you can go back to being comfortably mad.”

“I don’t want to be mad,” Arthur whimpered.

“Good.”

Fuck. That deal. That contract. Fuck.

“Three years?” Arthur whispered.

“Nearly a thousand days,” Hastur rumbled. “Remarkable, to have lasted so long.”

Arthur couldn’t stop shaking. The weight on him shifted (so damn familiar), holding him down, holding him together. “I don’t understand.”

“You were yourself without the chains of guilt or shame,” said Hastur. “Without the burden of responsibility, of consequence, you become yourself. Your basest and deepest instincts are brought to the fore.” His laugh was dark, damning, draining. “For you, Arthur… that equated to believing yourself home, to forgetting you had a daughter or had ever known Parker Yang, that you had lost parents, that you had suffered. You became what you are at your core: one who wishes to see good triumph.”

That didn’t sound right. “Sure.” He hitched, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“It’s true.” And those limbs shifted, sliding under and around, lifting him to face what he could imagine but apparently couldn’t bear seeing. “You dedicated yourself to righting all the wrongs you imagined, focused on it. Almost as if you were…” That dark laugh again. “Trying to make up for something.”

Arthur groaned.

“I won’t keep you sane too long, Arthur, don’t worry,” said Hastur.

Arthur shoved at the huge fingers stroking his hair. “Stop it!”

Hastur dropped him onto the bed. “Can you dress without sight?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Arthur cried, and lay back on the mattress, which surely had to be the size of the damn Lake. “I… I haven’t been home in three years. Is it still there?”

“Cloud City, or Earth?”

He was such a sadist. “Both, you fuck.”

“Yes and yes. Believe it or not, Arthur, they’ve all limped along without you just fine.”

So cutting. So cruel. So…

Exactly what he’d asked for. Arthur threw his arm over his face and wept quietly.

“I see I will have to do it for you,” said Hastur, again sounding anything but put out, and picked Arthur up, ignored his struggles, and dressed him in something silky and light that Arthur was willing to bet his very soul was fucking yellow.

#malevolent #cloud city #malevolent au #malevolent fic #arthur lester #hastur malevolent #kiy malevolent #king in yellow/arthur lester #hastur/arthur #kiy/arthur #the king in yellow/arthur

[chicken-fifi]

BTOB Reaction | When They Like the Same Girl

Pairing: BTOB (OT6) Members x Reader

Requested by anon: Hi, I’ve been a long time reader. Can I request a btob reaction when they have a crush on the same girl. Thank you!

A/n: good morning long time reader! the chicken says hello (it's late at the time i'm writing this)! anyways, i can always come back and add Ilhoon, i just decided to do the members i've done for reactions since the day i added them to my masterlist.

Eunkwang:

Literally sings sad ballads as he hurts over the fact that his members also like you

That being said, when Eunkwang does get a moment alone with you he doesn't even know what to do

He panics so bad

His system stop working (windows shut down sound)

It's his charm though

It's painfully obvious that he likes you and he tries to stand out even if he doesn't know how

"...Oh! Am I supposed to answer that?"

Minhyuk:

Minhyuk is quite the romantic

Therefore he tries his best to standout from his members with his romance skills

Flowers just because? Here you go

Random compliments about the small changed to your hair everyday? You hear them constantly

He also tries to use his athleticism to his advantage

Not saying he just takes off his shirt for no reason

But he takes off his shirt for now reason

"I remembered you said you like snapdragons the other day."

Changsub:

Those of us that have seen I Live Alone or Home Alone (Korean Variety Show), know how much of an introvert Changsub actually is

So there are plenty of time where he just sits there in silence and ponders over his feelings for you and how to stand out from everyone else

Naturally he ends up resorting to humor

He wants to make you laugh to break that wall of awkwardness

He is a but of a romantic, but with Minhyuk going above and beyond in that department, he needs to try a different route

And humor ends up being it

He's so glad that you genuinely find his jokes funny and can see past that jokester facade

"The toilet's smoking!"

Hyunsik:

Convince me that Hyunsik won't just appeal to you by playing the guitar

You can't!

He learns the cords to your favorite song and just plays it one day

Or he writes one for you and wants your thoughts without telling you you're the muse

He's also quite the gentleman (they all are let's be real)

But he makes a bit point of extenuating that

He also always has that eyes smile when you enter a room

"What do you think about the song?"

Peniel:

Peniel is a rather shy/introverted person too

A part of me can't help but think that he wouldn't necessarily feed into his crush on you because he feels as though you may over look him for his other members

Eunkwang can sing, Min's atheletic, Changsub is funny, and Sungjae is a great actor

And he's just Peniel

But what he doesn't know is that his being his natural self

Even if he does stray away from you is intriguing on it's own

Especially when you hear his thoughts and explanations on the podcast he's on

"Yeah, I, uh, I think I could get you on it if you want."

Sungjae:

Sungjae's pretty confident in himself

He does things and fails for the sake of impressing you

But you would never know he actually failed based off of his level of confidence

He does do a bit of teasing, but nothing over the top

He's also very sweet in a very indirect way

It's because he gets shy when you recognize that he goes out of his way to do certain things for you

And then he becomes the one being teased by everyone

"I didn't buy the pot because the other one broke...I just wanted to buy a pot."

#kpop reactions #btob #btob masterlist #btob reactions #eunkwang #minhyuk #changsub #hyunsik #peniel #sungjae

[clearwillow]

Happy Spooky Season Love! I'm here to ask you all about the ask game. ☺️

Let's see, let's ask 💔,⛔️, 👐, & 🧠(do our fav heroin Kagome for this one).

Oh you picked some fun ones!

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

Actually yeah. Parts of Strange, Pretend You're Mine, and The Highest Bidder were heavy-hitters when I went back and reread them. The first two not so much during editing, but I put some space between writing and editing the third and oof lol

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

Yep, there's been a couple. One was one that I thought would be a oneshot and then too much plot happened, I got frustrated, and ended up tabling it. I'll probably come back to it when I've got the time to properly write it, cause trying to jump between the past and present like I was really didn't do it justice. There's another one, a darker one, that I'm never going to revisit. I considered it, but the ending wouldn't be satisfactory for what horrible things happen in it.

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

For Kagome... I figured there was some way that she'd leave a sign of how her life in the past was going for her family to find. Like a time capsule of sorts. There was a lot of trial and error getting something that would be sustained for that length of time, and she'd periodically go back to the location to see if it had disappeared. There was part of her that was skeptical if it'd work, but the day she did see the hole empty, she sobbed in relief.

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

Gonna drop it under a cut cause of the length, but I shared this as a Sunday Sampler on Patreon last month. Part of the Making Waves universe.

Inuyasha stared at the pink-purple stone that lay in the palm of his hand. The imitation puka shell fragments that surrounded it on either side on the cord were stark white. They were most likely the product of some corporation for seasonal aesthetic jewelry meant for tourists, but the polished stone… it was very much the real deal. The merman never thought that he’d lay his eyes on one of the Sacred Jewels of the seven seas.

He certainly never expected that his childhood friend-turned-wife would own one.

After their honeymoon, on the next available day that his family would come to the shore, the pair brought the necklace to Touga for inspection. Kagome had barely removed the necklace from its drawstring bag before the shriek from Inukimi nearly made her drop it.

“How did you get that?!” the older woman gasped.

Kagome looked confused. “I…I got it from the boardwalk…” she said slowly. “It was one of the prizes at a game booth…”

Inukimi looked like she was a step away from hyperventilating. “Sacred…Sea…b-board…walk…g-game…pr-pr –”

Touga reached up and began to rub his wife’s back, telling her to take small breaths before she caused a scene. Izayoi looked just as confused as Kagome, and both were looking to Sesshomaru for some kind of explanation. Inuyasha wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was hoping for one too. All he knew of were old tales that weren’t enough to go on.

“My mother,” he sighed, “is having a moment because – upon first look at your necklace – it resembles one of the Sacred Jewels of the seven seas. That particular stone is highly sought after and extremely rare in this day and age.”

“You know you could have been more helpful,” Inuyasha frowned. He’d already told Kagome that much.

“Perhaps you should be more specific, little brother.”

“We want to know if it’s real –”

“Do I look like a magi –”

Touga cleared his throat, ending the argument before it could get started. “What our daughter-in-law has in her possession is in fact one of the Sacred Jewels,” he spoke calmly. “It doesn’t matter how she came to be its owner. What does matter is that she has one of the most precious gifts the sea has to offer.”

Inuyasha crossed his arms, looking put out by that statement. “I’m her husband!”

“You’re second most precious,” Sesshomaru snickered.

“You’re my number one,” Kagome told Inuyasha. He perked up after that.

“Alright, the most precious gift the sea has to offer…that doesn’t have a pulse.” Touga rubbed his forehead, looking pained that he had to amend his comments in the first place. When he looked up at Kagome again, he nodded to the necklace in her hands. “That stone holds a very unique ability. If you wear it in the ocean, you will be granted the gift of the merfolk.”

#asks #fanfic ask game

[kissagii]

𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 - 𝕠𝕤𝕒𝕞𝕦 𝕞𝕚𝕪𝕒 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

summary: for some unfathomable reason, osamu decided that he'd rather spend his time at the national volleyball teams' party catering instead of celebrating. so as the two of you spend hours together in the kitchen, he can't help but think you're the closest he has to a plus-one.

reader is gender neutral so anyone can enjoy (they/them used once)

warnings: a decent bit of cursing, food & eating

You considered yourself decently strong, so you grabbed two chafing dish trays from the back of the Miya family's minivan and carried them into the party venue's kitchen. Carrying them one at a time would have been smarter, but time was tight and you could handle two of them. You set them down quickly, escaping the heat that began to seep through the fabric cushions on your hand.

Back at the van, your classmate and cooking partner was hefting up a precariously tall stack of trays, leaning them against his chest as he began to make his way to the doorway. You held it open for him, watching in amazement as his large arms held up the stack with ease. Four trays. Four damn trays. He's gotta be insane.

"Showoff. You'd better not drop those," You said as he walked away, feigning a lack of awe. Though really, you wouldn't mind if he did it again, allowing you to catch another glimpse of his corded arms. It wasn't fair, you thought, that he could be so good at cooking and athletic at the same time. Not to mention that he had a nice face.

Oh god, [name], now's not the time to be ogling the pretty volleyball boys. Save it for later, there are plenty of others and you won't be stuck in a room with them all night. You chastised yourself for letting your thoughts wander from the task at hand. It was silly, you admitted, to be crushing on your undeniably attractive classmate and cooking partner, but it wasn't your fault he happened to be the exact definition of your type.

You grabbed another pair of trays, the last two in the van, and made the short trip back to the kitchen. You took a better look at it this time - the ample space with minimal appliances clearly made for catering. The left counter had already become cramped with your supplies, but the other two were blissfully empty. At the very least you'd have enough space to work.

"Let's get started then," He said tersely. "I'll take the shiozake, can you start with the negi miso?"

It wasn't long before you could hear the clamor building outside the kitchen, with only a metal screen between you and the growing party. When you first arrived only the setup crew had been there, but the variety of voices you could now hear told you that at least one team had arrived.

The kitchen, however, remained mostly silent. Every once in a while you'd ask one another for an ingredient or supply, but that was the extent of it.

"Y'know what, fuck it, this silence is awkward. Mind if I play some music?" Osamu asked, moving towards the sink to wash the sticky rice off of his hands.

"Yeah, go ahead. I'll listen to anything," You said. Though, in all honesty, you had your particular music tastes, part of you wanted to know what sort of music Osamu liked.

"Oh, great, I'll just... put on my usual playlist then," Osamu took his phone out of his backpack, fumbling with the screen for a moment before his music app started working. He hadn't brought a speaker, so he put the phone on an empty patch of counter.

The first sound that came out of it was an advertisement. More specifically, the exact same advertisement that had followed you around spotify for the past week or so.

"Broke bitch," you said jokingly as you continued work on the rice balls, forming some while others grilled.

"It's a responsible financial decision," Osamu replied with a sharp sarcasm, a breathy laugh escaping his lungs.

"Yeah, ok, sure. But I swear if I hear that ad one more time I'm just going to cave and deal with paying it."

The loathed advertisement came to an end, and the first song began. You'd recognize that slightly muffled drumbeat anywhere.

"Osamu... is that... Wildest Dreams?" You asked hesitantly.

"Shit- uh- that's uh...." Osamu moved to skip the song, but he had already begun work on the onigiri and the rice coated his fingers. Instead he settled for a disgruntled (and slightly embarrassed) huff.

"Oh my god, you're a swiftie," You said between laughs.

"I- hhhhhhh. I know it's weird. Laugh all you want," He grumbled, cheeks pinkened.

"No no, it's not that, it's so unexpected but it makes so much sense- Not gonna lie, it's adorable," The laughs continued to rack your body, the cheesy romantic song in the background such a precious contrast to your co-chef's moody exterior.

"Shut yer trap," Osamu mumbled, turning away from you with a childish pout.

While the rest of his music was more of what you had expected for a guy like him, you didn't pay much attention to it. The two of you talked too much for the music to matter.

When it came time to serve dinner, you were more disappointed than you should have been. I'm here to share food with people, I love sharing food with people, so why am I so bothered?

The volleyball boys were... interesting. To say the least. Some of them far too energetic for your tastes, others looked as if they were about to fall asleep any moment. Most were far taller than you, and nearly all of them did a double-take when they noticed you serving food. After all, very few of them would have seen you before, and those that did were unlikely to have remembered you.

The onigiri trays emptied surprisingly fast. With the few other foods set up on tables outside, you began pulling the empty metal sheets back into the kitchen for cleanup.

"So, 'Samu, this is yer plus-one, eh?" The cocky voice was one you knew well enough - Atsumu, the popular and, frankly quite annoying, twin brother of the boy you'd spent the entire afternoon cooking with.

"I think they'd prefer assistant chef," Osamu replied blandly with just a hint of sharp distaste for his brother.

"Well I think since you've locked yerself in the kitchen all day it might as well be a date," Atsumu teased, "It's like you'd rather spend time with your assistant chef than with the rest of us."

"Shut it, 'Tsumu. Unlike you, [name] is actually a decent person," Osamu spat, dramatically pulling down the metal screen between the kitchen and hall. It hit the blonde atop the head (not too hard, you hoped) and he recoiled backward with an offended face.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Atsumu's voice was muffled by the metal but still clearly audible, "Enjoy your date~"

Osamu shot a glare in his brother's general direction before turning back to his work washing the rice-coated utensils.

"So I'm just a 'decent person,' huh?" You asked, leaning leisurely against the sink, mindlessly fiddling with the dish towel.

"Well, I'd've been nicer, but that woulda given 'Tsumu the wrong idea," Osamu said quietly, scrubbing with a determined fervor.

"The wrong idea... how?"

"First off he'd've taken anything short of insulting as an ego boost, he always does. Or he might've thought... that we were together."

"Oh."

You cursed yourself for such a simplistic response, but your thoughts were racing too fast to put together anything more coherent. Atsumu thinking we're together is bad... does he actually not like me? No, he probably just sees me as a friend. Damn.

"Well, for the record, I think you're pretty great," After a moment you fumbled the words out of your mouth. 'Pretty great' was a terrible understatement - you thought he was amazing, wonderful, so funny and talented and handsome.

"Yeah, you too," He murmured. How strange it was to hear Osamu, usually so outspoken, being quiet. Almost... shy.

"And, well, while assistant chef is a nice title and all... I wouldn't mind being your plus-one either." Your words were nearly drowned out by the running water, hesitant but entirely sure of what you meant. The whole evening had made you realize how much you were into Osamu, his immaculate sarcasm and love of food, the dry but entertaining banter over stupid things. Maybe he had been flirting. Maybe he hadn't. There was no way to know.

"I think I'd like that too." Osamu looked over at you with a shy smile, cheeks tinged with red, dropping the dishes in his hands.

"You're so fucking adorable," You said with a little laugh, the warm flush building in your own face. Holy shit. This is actually going well.

Osamu snatched the towel from your hands, drying off his hands and forearms. "Can I like... hug you? Is that okay?"

You skipped over a verbal response, choosing to throw yourself at him instead, wrapping your arms around his broad torso. He was warm, comforting, and the perfect height for hugs. Gently, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, placing his chin on top of your head in an a silly, condescending way.

"You're such a dork, Osamu."

"And you like it."

©nesswritesnonsense 2022

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