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starsstuddedsky · 1 year

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Tangled in Love

vernon x reader

summary: there's nothing in the world that vernon loves more than cats. at least, that's what you think

genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, non-idol!au, uni au, f2L, idiots to lovers, fake dating if you squint, technically university au

warnings: none!

wc: 3.8k

a/n: started this a WHILE ago and finished it like a month ago but i wanted to let it sit lol,,, may or may not have been the other option for the poll i put out and then i may or may not have forgotten to post.... anyways i am working for literally the whole summer until school starts again so i can't promise i'll be writing a whole bunch </3 so basically: enjoy bc idk when anything else will come lol (not going on official hiatus though!! just like... limbo) pls pls feel free to drop in anytime and chat!! also requests are open but again,, i'll write when i write lol

tldr: adulting sucks, i love you all, none of this has to do with the actual story lol

Vernon’s car sits in your driveway. The sight of his little red sedan evokes a strong sense of familiarity, almost as if it’s yours. It’s survived high school and his first three years of college, up till now, though the engine sometimes shakes the car a little too much and the air conditioning chooses to work less often than you would prefer. Still, the one time Vernon mentioned getting a new car, you nearly cried, so you don’t let yourself complain too much.

He waits for you, keys in hand, as you tug on your shoes and sprint out the door with a shout of goodbye to your parents. Your shoes nearly slip off because you didn’t put them on all the way and they’re still untied when you make it to the front seat, slamming the door shut behind you and pulling on your seatbelt.

“You didn’t have to rush,” Vernon says, barely sparing a glance at you. You do a supreme job pretending it doesn’t bother you.

“Yeah, but my dad is watching hockey,” you say. Though it’s been years since Vernon has been to your house for a “play date,” you know the memory of your father yelling at the television as if the players can hear him isn’t one that Vernon (or anyone for that matter) can forget easily.

“You know if you move out, you don’t have to hear them,” he says, finally glancing at you before turning his head to watch the road as he backs down the driveway.

“If I move out, I also have to pay my bills on my own,” you say.

“You have three job offers and you haven’t even graduated yet,” Vernon says. “Of all our friends, you are the most financially stable, so don’t you dare try that argument on me.” This debate has been going on ever since Vernon announced he was moving out; two years in the dorms on campus proved more than enough for him.

You don’t understand why he’s so insistent about you moving out. Sure you complain about your parents occasionally but not enough to really matter, and he knows how grateful you are that they’ve let you stay in your childhood room and rarely let you pay for anything.

So why? You set your eyes on him, with his annoyingly perfect features that you’ve known most of your life. He studies the road, indifferent to your glare and undistracted.

That’s the Vernon you know: focused on the moment, and never noticing you. You know how pitiful you sound, pining for someone for so long who has never once spared you a second look. Still, before everything else, he’s your friend, your best friend. You won’t ruin that just because you caught feelings.

“Why are we going an hour away again?” You ask, resting your back against the cushioned seats and turning your head to the window to watch the scenery pass by. It’s easier to avoid thinking about those feelings when you aren’t staring at him.

“Because the people running the rescue needed a volunteer to pick up the kittens.”

“And why am I here?”

“So I don’t get kidnapped or murdered,” Vernon says nonchalantly.

“How am I going to prevent you from getting kidnapped or murdered?”

“Strength in numbers?” He takes his eyes off the road for half a second to flash a smile at you.

You rolled your eyes, plugging your phone into the aux. “You should have asked Jihoon. Between his gym obsession and unbridled rage, the nonexistent potential kidnappers-murderers would never stand a chance.”

“And he has good taste in music. Bump,” he says, bracing his arm in front of you as he hit a particularly large pothole. He drops his arm as soon as the car stops shaking and you ignore the urge to catch his hand in yours.

“He does not, and you better not be implying I have bad taste!” You dig through your playlists, trying to find the Vernon-approved one.

“I was implying but now I’ll outright say it.”

“His playlist is just Bruno Mars and Harry Styles and one random Ariana Grande song.” You hold up the shared playlist for good measure. Vernon ignores you, refusing to take his eyes off the road.

“Okay, not good taste, but better than yours.”

“What is wrong with my taste in music?”

“No comment.”

“How have we been friends this long?” You ask. You can’t quite say it with a straight face; the idea of not having Vernon in your life is an absurdity you can’t imagine.

“By the way, you need to give directions,” Vernon says. “I sent you the address last week.”

You shake your head but dig through the messages to find the address, putting Jihoon’s playlist on to prove your point. Vernon pretends not to care, singing along to “Leave the Door Open,” as if he didn’t make fun of Jihoon a week ago because he played the song on repeat during his four hour shift at the cafe.

When you’re being honest with yourself, you know you want more than riding in Vernon’s front seat and making pointless jokes. More than once, you’ve imagined what it’s like to go home with him and stay there, to wake up in his bed because you share it with him, instead of the times you drank too much and he slept on the couch (because of course Vernon is the type of person to give up his bed for his friend). Moments like that make it harder to remember that he doesn’t feel the same way.

You were doing a great job of paying attention until the second half hour, when you got stuck in standstill traffic. In your mind, only a few minutes pass, but suddenly Vernon shakes your shoulder and your heart shoots bolts of adrenaline into your veins to wake you up.

“We’re here,” he says softly. He holds your phone with the directions still open. The engine shakes the car; he must have literally just stopped. It takes a couple moments to remember that he drove you into the middle of nowhere to pick up some kittens to foster them (another bullet point in the ever growing list of why you love Vernon: he does absolutely insane things for what he loves. What would it be like to be the person he loves?). He stares at you for a moment and for some godforsaken reason, you think he’s going to kiss you.

He points to the corner of your lips. “You drooled.” He laughs at your groan, turning in his seat and cutting the engine, tossing your phone into your lap.

The door creaks when you pull on the handle but it swings open. You are extra careful when you swing it shut, being as gentle as possible. Vernon raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment on it. You stretch until your back finally pops, jogging to catch up with Vernon who didn’t wait for you, striding up the smooth driveway.

Warm pastel yellow greets you, a cute door that matches the array of flowers on the front porch perfectly. Vernon sneezes and presses the doorbell, stepping back to wait, shoulder pressing against yours. Even though his jean jacket and your cotton t-shirt separate you from really touching him, you feel a different sort of warm, a tingly feeling that spreads from your insides and makes you feel giddy.

After a couple minutes, the door opens, revealing a smiling woman and a child that can’t be more than five clinging to her leg. “You must be the fosters! Sorry, it’s a little hectic today, but come on in!” She ushers you in, picking up the child.

Some psychopath. You glance at Vernon but he turns his back on you, following the woman down the hall to a closed door. Whatever, it’s not like he needs to see you to know the jokes you make.

“We’ve been keeping them away from the rest of the house since it gets so chaotic,” she says. “I’d love to keep them but we’ve got two toddlers and a hyperactive dog.” She sounds genuinely regretful, which you understand as soon as you step over the baby gate and into the room. It looks like it was a spare bedroom (you can’t help but think it’s for the children when they get too big to share a room), but the bed has been stripped and there isn’t any other furniture. In the middle of the room, in a nest of blankets, a grown cat sits and licks tiny balls of fur that mewl softly in protest. The black cat pauses in her grooming, studying you and Vernon while the woman and her child watch from the door.

“Do you want to tell the lovely couple what we named them?” She asks the child.

You freeze. Did she just call you a couple? “We’re not–” Vernon stops you with a hand on your arm, sitting cross legged on the ground and facing the woman and her child.

“The momma is Pinky,” the child mumbles, barely audible. “‘Cause she has really pink feet.”

You smile at her, though you’re still reeling from Vernon’s hand, which slips from your arm to interlace his fingers with yours. “Did you name her?”

The child grins. “Yeah! But my brother named the babies.” She pouts.

“I think Pinky is a great name,” you say. Vernon grunts in agreement. Pinky stands and wanders slowly toward Vernon’s hand (the one not holding yours), which he holds outstretched while looking away. Looking at you. You get to see the exact moment Pinky brushes her head against his fingers, watch the corners of his mouth creep up in satisfaction, watch his eyes slip away from yours as he strokes her head. She lets off a low rumble as she purrs, brushing her whole body against his foot before leaving him to study you.

You’ve never thought of yourself as a cat-person or a dog-person (you love them all the same), but a life-time as Vernon’s best friend (and an abundance of cat cafes) have trained you in how to get cat’s to befriend you. You let Pinky move however she wants, hyper aware of Vernon’s hand squeezing yours once before letting go.

He shifts to look at the kittens, earning a wary glance from Pinky. She watches him for a moment before turning back to you, brushing against your hand and eventually turning her back on you, purring like the engine of Vernon’s car the entire time.

“What’s this one called?” Vernon asks, pointing to the orange colored kitten.

“That’s Muffin, Momma named her,” the child explains. She stands at the baby gate alone, her mother off somewhere getting all of their supplies so that you and Vernon can leave with them. Her little fingers curl around the metal. “The black one is Fried and the white one is Egg. That’s what my brother named them.”

Vernon nods, smiling over the tiny kittens. Pinky finally decides she doesn’t want him quite so close, leaving your side to place herself between him and the kittens. He laughs, sliding back to sit next to you.

“There’s no way you don’t end up adopting at least one of them,” you whisper.

“I have self-control.”

“Wanna bet?”

Vernon turns to look at you except he’s much too close, nose just barely brushing against yours. It takes all of your willpower not to glance at his lips, infinitely harder when you realize you can feel his breath on your lips. Would he kiss you back? You push that fantasy away immediately: it’s Vernon. He’d push you away and call you weird, or do that judgy-eyebrow-wiggle-thing that he reserves only for special occasions (most recently used when Soonyoung was talking about a hookup gone wrong). You’ve always been the one he looks at when someone does something weird; what would he do if it was you being weird? Your stomach turns, the butterflies eating each other alive. You can’t do that to him, no matter how perfect his lips are.

You jump at the sound of someone clearing their throat. You turn back to the door to see the woman holding a cat carrier doing her best not to smile.

“Not trying to rush you two, but the sooner they settle into a nice loving home, the better,” she says, winking at ‘loving.’ You really should correct her. Actually, Vernon should correct her. He always does, the very few times that you have been mistaken as a couple. He never hesitates, so why isn’t he doing it now? Does he really not realize what she’s implying?

He stands up, turning to face you and extending his hands to pull you up. You roll your eyes but take them anyway, ignoring the way your heart sinks when he lets go this time. He takes the carrier and gently picks up the kittens, blankets and all, and tucks them inside. Pinky follows immediately after, as if she couldn’t bear to be away from her children for more than a second.

“I have a box ready by the door with their food, and toys, and other supplies, and I know you said you have a litter box and you’re ready, but I just wanted to make sure that they settle in nice, and I added a blanket in case they’re homesick, and–” She pauses, peering at the dark holes of the carrier as if she can see the little kittens inside. She takes a deep breath, picking up her child again, stepping to the side so that you and Vernon can leave the room. “I know you two will take good care of them, I do, I just– I’m going to miss them.”

“Me too,” her child says, clinging to her mother’s neck.

The woman smiles. “But we said our goodbyes already, and they’re going to be so happy with these two, right?”

“Of course,” you say when Vernon doesn’t answer. “He’s been obsessed with cats since he was smaller than you!” You wink at the child, who giggles.

You pick up the box at the door, grunting at the heaviness.

“We can switch,” Vernon says softly but you shake your head.

“It’s just to the car, it’s fine.” Vernon looks like he’s going to argue more, but finally he steps onto the front porch, moving as gently as possible, trying to disturb the precious cargo as little as possible.

“Thank you so much again,” the woman says, setting her child down. “We really do wish we could keep them, but it makes me happy knowing that someone capable will be taking care of them, especially an adorable couple like the two of you. Do keep me updated on their adoptions.”

You force a smile and choke out a “thank you,” following Vernon mindlessly down the driveway after she closes the door.

Adorable couple, were her exact words and Vernon said nothing. Why? The word hangs on your tongue, threatening to spill out if you so much as open your mouth. You watch as Vernon sets the carrier in the backseat, then takes the box out of your arms and places it on the floor. You force yourself to move to the passenger side when he raises his eyebrows at you, but once you’re sitting down and the seatbelt is across your chest, you’re frozen again.

Vernon takes your phone when you don’t move, putting in your passcode (the sum of his birthday and yours). He pulls up his own playlist, a collection of hyperpop and indie artists that you normally enjoy listening to. Today it takes all your concentration not to burst.

You almost make it the whole drive, all the way to his block, the apartment building he’s spent the last year and a half in that’s become far too familiar to you. How much time have you wasted away on the floor of his living room, drinking, doing classwork, listening to him talk about the future, rambling to him about the midnight thoughts that threaten your heart? He knows everything about you, except what you need him to know the most.

When the question begins to burn in your heart, you can’t hold it anymore. Vernon pulls into his parking spot and it falls from your lips before you realize it. “Why?”

He has the audacity to feign ignorance, blinking at you before finally asking, “Why what?”

“Why did you let her think we are a couple?”

One of the kittens mewls in the silence, a soft cry for help, sounding pitifully like your own heart.

Vernon stares ahead of him at the concrete wall, the fading red number 19 that designates this spot as his. Just say something, your heart begs him. Stop giving me hope where there is none. His shoulders rise in the tiniest shrug. “I guess I was just curious.”

“Of what?”

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He glances at you, just once. “What it would be like.” He sighs. “This really isn’t the time for this conversation.”

Your grip on the door handle is so tight your knuckles are white. So desperately, you want to believe he’s trying to say what you think he’s saying but you refuse to give yourself hope unless it’s real. “What conversation?”

“Okay, for the record, I did think this through,” he says, “a lot. Like, for months. This isn’t coming out of nowhere, I really did try to figure out if it’s just a passing thing because the last thing I want is for things between us to be weird because you’re my best friend and I tried to imagine my life without you and that was worse than anything, so I decided I wouldn’t ruin anything except I can’t stop thinking about–”

“Vernon.”

He pauses, turning to face you again and this time he doesn’t look away. You’ve never felt self-conscious under his gaze, not when he’s seen every awkward stage of your life and stuck with you anyways. His eyes have always been familiar to you, an oasis of comfort that you always find yourself drifting toward. But the longer he stares at you, the more you want to run away, hide from the heartbreak you see in his eyes.

“I think I like you,” he says. “No. I do. Like, as in more than a friend. God, none of these words are working.”

You stare at him. He’s saying everything you want him to say. He’s saying he likes you. Why can’t you move?

Vernon runs a hand through his hair, and sighs. “Like I said, I don’t want to ruin things between us, you're still my best friend first. But I’m also sure about how I feel and I don’t want to keep it from you any longer. I can’t stay in this limbo of holding onto something that doesn’t exist, so, I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry?” You repeat, frowning. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because… I like you. And that ruins… this.” He gestures between you and him and that’s when you finally realize that he doesn’t know.

“You dumbass,” you say, “I like you, too.”

Vernon frowns, mouth hanging open a little, and you have to wonder if you looked this goofy when he was talking. Your heart swells when you realize you’re the reason for it. “You do?”

“Yes,” you say, grabbing his hand. Your cheeks ache a little, and you realize that you’re smiling wider than you ever have before. You’ve never been this happy, not when you graduated high school, not when you and Vernon found out you got into the same college, not when you got a perfect score on that notoriously impossible chemistry final. “Vernon, I am an idiot that always thought you didn’t feel the way I did so I did everything I could to hide it. But I like you, I really, really do, and I’m sorry I never let it show.” There’s another word for how you feel, but you aren’t quite brave enough to use it yet, even if it’s what you really mean to say.

Vernon leans closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “We really are dumb, huh?”

“I can already hear Jihoon’s gloating.”

“He’s been nagging you too?” Vernon groans softly but the smile never leaves his lips. “He’s going to be insufferable.”

You’ve grown used to silences with Vernon. Sometimes they are painful, like when he tells a joke and only you laugh. Usually they’re peaceful, comfortable silences that can only exist between two people that have nothing left to say but stay together anyways. But this silence is heavy, a weight on your shoulders pushing you to do something, move closer. You’ve known him your whole life but this is foreign territory.

His breath kisses your lips again and this time you have the bravery to lean forward, just a little. His lips are soft, bottom lip chapped a little more than the top but it is warm and it feels like a first and thousandth at the same time, like unlocking the door to a house you know you’ll spend the rest of your life in. Your mind floats farther and farther away, in some place of impossible happiness that can’t quite believe that this is real.

A soft cry from somewhere to your left brings you back to earth. You pull away at the same time he does, glancing at the backseat. Right. The kittens. You glance at Vernon, whose mouth is still a little open, eyes wide and flustered. It makes you want to kiss him all over again but you settle for laughing.

“I guess we should go inside,” he says, leaning away from you though he doesn’t turn his back yet.

“We should get them settled,” you say, glancing at the carrier again.

Vernon nods, opening his door and grabbing the heavy box, pausing by the entrance to the building to wait for you to grab the carrier. Silence falls again as you ride the elevator up but you’re more than familiar with it.

It doesn’t take long to settle Pinky and the kittens, not when Vernon already had a room set up for them. He figures there’s been enough stress for the day and they should get some peace and space to relax, so you stretch out on the couch, taking your usual corner. Vernon sits next to you, the inch of space separating you feeling like a mile.

Vernon glances at you, chewing on his lip before asking, “You’ll stay?”

“Always.”

The grin that splits his face has you swooning all over again, so when he throws an arm over your shoulder, leaning into your side, your brain fully stops functioning. You have to will thoughts into existence, which is silly because it’s Vernon and he’s done this a million times. But when you tuck your head onto his shoulder and he kisses the top of this head, you know everything is different. And exactly how you want it.

“You’re definitely going to adopt Fried,” you say.

His laughter bounces you. “No way.”

“It’s Fried or Muffin. You can’t handle their cuteness, I saw you baby talking at them.”

“I'll stay strong.”

“What if I want a kitten?”

Vernon doesn’t hesitate. “Egg is pretty cute.”

“Sucker.”

“Only for you.”

thank you for reading <3

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ihopeinevergetsoberr · 4 months

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the counterpart

• chapter 1 — a welcome threatening stir

rating: explicit. please don’t skip straight to the (future) smut parts though, i’m currently teaching myself how to play chess just for this fic /hj

word count: 4,5k

pairing: viktor x fem!reader (no use of ‘y/n’)

cw: alcohol, occasional cussing, reader is a smoker (she plays chess and lives in the 90s, how do you expect her to have healthy lungs in these conditions?). a LOT of tension, viktor is a certified brat tamer. i think that’s it — please come yell at me if i missed anything. basically just a silly little chess rivals (sort of) au.

i am finally writing this multichapter and i hope it will be a fun read for you and an excellent torture for me. i have a vision but i don’t know how to make shit perfectly executed. we’ll see how this goes. an ao3 link will be added later. any feedback is highly appreciated.

part 2

⸻

You weren’t obsessed with him.

With the way his tongue would click against his teeth so astutely irritating — a gesture you grew to define as some brief foreplay before said appendage touched his palate precisely one tortuous time, whispering a victorious ‘check’. With a crease dissecting his forehead — a rare occasion you managed to grasp only twice: the first time being your failed attempt to capture his queen, and the second — a recent one, at that — being a foolish way you’ve lost a freshly converted into a rook pawn: concurrently the most humiliating way to jeopardize an intellectual sparring.

You weren’t obsessed with his bizarre contemplative humming, nor with his Czech last name — needless to mention the disheveled mayhem of dark hair: Viktor was just a mere enigma you fancied to occasionally demerge — sneakily, patiently, with a positive passion to it. Habitually in a private ambiance of either his or your dorm room, though actually more commonly his — something about it simply screamed peace, as contradictory as that sounds. Sweetly quiet, relatively neat, with a never properly made bed being the only truly concerning mess in it.

That apartment was the embodiment of a grandmaster’s mind, and it certainly had all the chances of belonging to one at some point: if only he kept up with the meticulous tactics you were (secretly) so jealous about.

“Envy is a waste of time,” he unkindly reminded you one particularly languid evening, “you should pursue ways to expand your knowledge — not to contract them with such trivialities.”

That reproach got into your ambitious head. Call it a reality check or a simple first impression — since that encounter was also the first one you two had ever shared.

Though could someone really blame you? You didn’t need humbling. Well, not any more of that crude one, at the very least — a local college chess club had more than enough of it to offer. You could consume their disdain for weeks and it still wouldn’t make them run out of it — they had plenty in stock specifically for women. That much was obvious the second you appeared before those arrogant, prejudiced fools. You stepped in there innocently hoping to enroll, but stormed off with a genuine intention to commit homicide — a manslaughter, to be precise, and god weren’t you going to be merciful.

‘You can’t enroll without a rating,’ hissed that bespectacled, caricaturely tall boy — all heavily starched collar, stupid chequered tie and a handful of dirty blonde hair plastered across his forehead.

Bullshit, you thought, gathering every last ounce of your forced politeness, who needs a rating to enroll into a college fucking chess club?

‘We don’t accept amateurs,’ assented his not any less grimy interlocutor, his expression a tad bit more bearable. ‘Please, leave,’ he demanded, lancing your face with his hostile eyes.

Well, it’s a good thing you accept ill-mannered bastards, you almost muttered, fists clenching hard into a white-knuckled disaster.

And perhaps you were even willing to negotiate, to have their best players all lined up in front of you — each waiting for a turn to be relentlessly put in his place by you; and you would certainly show them — quick, efficient and contemplative. You would force them into submission — professionally so, in a way that would make them all wonder whether the next Judit Poglar herself has decided to bless them with her presence.

Because, sure; you were certainly many things — an excellent mind, a trickster, a fanatic, but that list never included an amateur. The mere fact someone even dared to insult you in such a way — and without even sparing you one game of chess — was, frankly, deeply humiliating.

So you decided to let your pride win. Walked out of that damned club with an ostentatious huff, heels clacking loud enough to muffle their demeaningly misogynistic brouhaha — a tacit protest, an addendum to your passive-aggressive ‘good luck, gentlemen’.

They didn’t want you — fine, whatever, you didn’t want them either. You’ll find yourself a counterpart soon — not any less intelligent, and, most importantly, a respectful one. They’ll come crawling back to you once you gain a rating, mourning their loss and pathetically begging for sweet mercy. You could already imagine the holes rubbed through the nice fabric of their dress pants from all the kneeling you’ll make them do.

Besides, Jayce had already promised to introduce you to someone decent. ‘He’s sweet,’ he assured you, a friendly arm wrapped around your tense shoulder. ‘Incredibly smart,’ he proceeded with his wholehearted praise, proud grin so wide the corners of his mouth were definitely hurting. ‘Somewhat awkward,’ he mused, raising one eyebrow in consideration, ‘though I’m not entirely sure it’s awkwardness, per se, Viktor is simply… pensive.’

Viktor. Your eyes squeezed shut, offering the restless imagination a brief opportunity to brainstorm. A competent, pensive and sweet chess lover: what would his temper turn out to be like? Does he have a rating yet? What if he’s already playing professionally? Perhaps he even has a title?

Jayce’s next comment didn’t offer you much help though.

‘He’s handsome too,’ he whispered, a shit-eating smirk wiped instantly off his pleased physiognomy. Elbows become offensive weapons between the ribs of unfortunate matchmakers, you see.

Either way: the deal was sealed. You were going to meet Viktor the next chance you get, and Jayce’s upcoming birthday has provided you with precisely that convenience.

It still happened rather spontaneously — you can’t mentally prepare yourself for an encounter you don’t quite know what to expect of. Sure, Jayce’s complaisant flattery was still at your service — a source not exactly reliable, yet somewhat welcomed nonetheless: though only because you lacked any other information about this Viktor persona.

But you decided not to upset a dear friend on his birthday. Acting like Jayce was bearable to be around was a part of your gift, after all.

Unfortunately, the fact he was born on an awfully steamy July day wasn’t helping you accomplish that; you squinted, drowning a glass of that disgustingly warm bourbon, a couple of melted ice cubes in it slightly diluting the once-rich taste of liquor. The man of the hour had quickly dissolved into a mess of infuriatingly noisy people after only reserving you a quick hello, shiny eyes already evidently tipsy — either from all the attention or the contentious quality of the booze this bar had to offer.

You didn’t dare to complain. The tab was on a birthday boy, and you knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Knew better, yet still stared right at Jayce’s laughing physiognomy, grin so blindingly toothy it had you regretting ever sojourning this feast of life. Not that you had anything against attending birthday celebrations; but a cramped bar, a cheap drink and not a single minute spent with a man you came here for weren’t exactly your ideal perception of said… festivity. Not to mention that Viktor was terribly late — though your darling mutual acquaintance was in no state to properly introduce you to him anyway. You slipped out of your bar stool, rubbing an erratic little pattern into the weary skin of each heavy eyelid — but the sleepiness didn’t magically dissolve under the persistent pressure of your fingers. If there existed a thing you hated more than cocky men and bad booze — then it certainly had to be feeling hot, and this awful place has kindly reminded you of precisely that long forgotten loathing; air so sticky it was melting your brain into a tired, dysfunctional mush.

Somehow you managed to find an exit before the headache became borderline unbearable, letting the evening greet you with a chilly slap on precisely that slick place where a damp blouse kept clinging onto your sweaty back. Summer sure was relentless this year — the outdoors didn’t offer you much of that crispy gentle breeze, but it was still not nearly as suffocatingly hot as inside that grimy shelter for drunks.

Shaky hands slid inside the pocket of your pants, fumbling frantically with the contents of it: glistening candy wrappers, ringing keys and a handful of coins. Took you long enough to finally feel the shape of an old lighter, the spark wheel of it so terribly rusty the callus on your thumb started stinging as soon as you laid it on that rough little bump.

With a sigh, you fetched a folded pack of Camel out of the same stuffed sack, the state of said poor thing utterly matching its owner’s — all ruffled, messy, with the bottom of it barely still intact. Well, fine, perhaps that last trait was not precisely pertinent to you, but your rear was hurting quite palpably after an hour spent sitting on that awfully uncomfortable stool — which meant that relating to your poor box of cancer sticks was inevitable.

The spark wheel gave in after a few insistent pushes, and within seconds you were taking your first greedy drag, back pressed tightly against the cool wall; providing you a much needed support for taming a headache with a smoke break that would undoubtedly cause a new one in an instant. The filth filled your lungs with sweet relief, and you let the sedation run slowly through your veins, squeezing the filter in an affectionate little embrace of trembling index and middle fingers.

And then your private moment was ruined. But not abruptly in the slightest, with just one simple call of your name – the most careful of all interventions, surprisingly quizzical and polite, heavily accented at the edge of the very last syllable. Still had you choking ungracefully on your tiny nicotine snack, filling the silence with awfully inelegant coughing.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you,” spoke your pensive intruder, causing you to sharply turn around, back clinging off the wall in one unsubtle movement.

That’s how all meaningful formal meetings happen. Unfailingly when you least expect them, or, even worse — when you stop expecting them at all, with every thought banished from your utterly relaxed mind. They sneak up on you under shitty bars, giving you a slight vertigo and then offering a polite smile to make amends, gripping the handles of their canes with pent up awkwardness. And god were they peculiar intrusions — matching your silly, much too improper manner to wear corporate clothes for a night out, with just a few buttons of their tight vest undone; limbs lanky, but not inept, eyes brimming with pretty copper right onto your astonished frame. Made you randomly embarrassed about your chipped nail polish and messy hair with just a mere presence of their flawlessness: you knew you were facing a tease before you even managed to acknowledge his appearance, brow raising curiously in a cautious attempt of a greeting.

“Well, you did startle me,” was the first thing to leave your mouth after the coughing assault had ended, lips stretching lazily into an involuntary grin. “How do you know my name?”

His eyes — oh those big shiny tormentors — widened in surprise, and one sinewy hand crawled somewhat haphazardly up his chest, fingers catching the knot of a red tie to pull on it firmly. To either adjust it or to make the clearing of a tender throat easier — you couldn’t quite place it, yet still watched him in silent astonishment, tasting the bitterish taste of tobacco on the tip of your tongue.

“Well,” he parroted your tone with sharp accuracy and proceeded with distinguished sass, “I believe a certain someone has introduced us to each other… in absentia, so to speak.”

Oh. So that was your new charming counterpart? Bravo, Jayce — there was actually something truthful about your flattering for the first time.

“For I am Viktor, in case you’re still confused,” he obligingly reminded, abandoning the brief fidgeting with his tie to offer you a handshake.

You gulped, almost extending a dominant arm to accept it, but some weird foreboding had once convinced you that to twine your still smelling of cigarettes fingers with a stranger would be somehow perceived as crude — and so you clumsily caught his palm with your other, less nimble limb. Let the heat of his touch engrave into your hand, eyes swirling the tiny mole above that defined cupid’s bow, making you feel stupid for stealing that innocent of a peek. Had you forgetting about the still stuffed into your mouth cigarette as it fell open in oblivious awe, almost dropping a decent bridge of ashes onto his pretty shoes.

Regaining the lost composure, you managed to introduce yourself in a manner similar to his — not that it was necessary since he seemed to remember what to call you exactly, but the gesture still felt right — you’d vowed to treat people with politeness and liked to think that it was going quite well for you.

“So,” he uttered somewhat approbatory, withdrawing his hand from your tender clasp, “normally I don’t… tutor. But Jayce was rather insistent I try — and he’d also assured me that you’re quite passionate about the subject.”

You huffed, letting out an undefinable sound of confusion. Not without a mixture of evident irritation to it, if you were to be frank — but that was entirely justified. A tutor? Is that how Jayce really took it?

“I’m not looking for a tutor,” you sassed matter-of-factly, angrily inhaling from your cigarette. “I’m looking for a counterpart. What makes you think that you’re competent enough to teach me anything at all?” you inquired with candid hostility, watching him go limp in silent panic.

You’d vowed to treat people with politeness and didn’t care if it wasn’t going well for you anymore. Quite a drastic change of plans, to be frank.

“Oh, I am not claiming that,” Viktor rushed to object, and the way a few strands of hair started shaking treacherously as he wagged his head had almost caused you to crack a pretentious smirk. But he quickly soothed the unkempt curl and proceeded with his explanation, “I was simply told you might need some help. Why the unnecessary attitude?”

“Because you were told wrong,” you practically spat the smoke into his face, lips smacking together with an audible pop. It made his textured nose wrinkle with a fed up sigh, entertaining you with an ungainly attempt of waving that livid cloud away.

“And that’s my fault… how, exactly?” he mumbled with an utterly puzzled glare, and you scoffed in silent rejoicement, leaning slightly closer to divert yourself with more of his emotiveness.

“You should have paid more attention to what Jayce told you,” you jumped over his rhetorical question paying it no mind whatsoever. Though, as you were reminiscing on the events of this exact conversation — your own audacity made you wonder how Viktor managed to refrain from slapping you across the face that very instant. The shitty booze must have turned out not so shitty after all — it sure gave you the nerve, and you were holding onto it a tad bit too tightly.

But your new companion didn’t take that well. His thick eyebrow protruded into a furious arc, lids twitching slightly at the outburst you were so pathetically proud about. Both hands returned to the handle of his cane, as if getting ready to transform it into a weapon — and he leaned his whole body weight on it with a displeased gasp, accented voice obtaining a lower, more threatening edge to it.

He’s sweet, you scoffed, ready to press your forehead against his like an uncivilized animal. It’s not like you were acting much better than that anyway.

Well, at least Jayce didn’t lie about the handsome part.

“I’ll have you know that I was, indeed, paying attention,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “and if you wish to quibble over the words that do not even belong to me — then fine: be my absolute guest, but do not except me to align with your enthusiasm and partake in useless insults.”

He cleared his throat again, evidently reluctant to indulge in whatever spectacle you were so clearly asking for. That man didn’t deserve your resentment, but now you certainly deserved his, and so you backed off, fingers twitching haphazardly as they curdled around your cigarette for one last awkward drag, lashes fluttering with palpable nervousness.

“I was told you needed a tutor — and I sincerely apologize if your request was miscomprehended,” Viktor sighed, and you blinked at him in baffled reverence. Wishing oh so desperately to burn your always looking for trouble tongue with that still somewhat smoldering tobacco stick.

“No, I…” you gasped in response, but Viktor held a soothing hand up, stopping you from puking out more of that guilty incoherent nonsense.

“Please, allow me to finish,” he demanded, and you obeyed — a mere culpable inch away from accidentally swallowing the filter still filling your mouth with a sharp savour of smoke.

And your submission was appreciated right away.

“So, as I was saying,” Viktor returned to his lecture with a distinguished cough, “I’m sorry if your request was miscomprehended. But it certainly wasn’t miscomprehended by me, which makes your reaction somewhat… unfair, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” you yielded, nodding in weak agreement. “Yes, totally unfair.”

“To say the least,” he was quick to add, emphasizing the last word especially heavy.

“To say the least,” you parroted in response — just like a tamed misbehaving brat. And that’s precisely what you were — humbled, put in your place and sorry. You were sorry, and it made you quiver as you timidly chewed on the inside of an already half-eaten cheek, frantically counting the numerous scratches on your shoes. Doing anything to escape the gentle orbs undressing you off your very flesh in an attempt to find something even you doubted was still there: some prudence.

“So, with that being said,” Viktor summarized, and you heard a resonant click of his cane against the concrete, “I suggest you take out your anger on someone who’s responsible for the incorrect wording.”

You dared to abandon your defeated position, head tilting slightly upwards to witness his departure — just as languid as this completely disastrous evening; no offense to Jayce and his special day, of course.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” he smiled, politely nodding at the establishment before you two, “I still ought to wish that someone a happy birthday.”

So that’s how you lose both a battle and a war. He’d just taught you a valuable lesson — and here you were, so appalled to the idea of being tutored. Oh how the tables have turned.

You reached out a hand for him, preliminarily putting out that damned cigarette to the sole of your messy shoe in a chaotic rush. Grazed his shoulder with a fleeting touch — so cowardly unsure if you were even allowed to pamper such luxury in these conditions. But he showed you some mercy — allowed it to linger there, slightly dipped into the curvature of his clavicle, awaiting your next move with a didactic frown.

A look of a man who’d put you in a checkmate before even pulling out a chess board.

“Viktor, I’m sorry,” you muttered with the most sincere remorseful look your face could even master, “I’m terribly sorry, actually. I shouldn’t have—“ but he interrupted you, eyes drifting playfully to the hand still invading his precious privacy.

“Oh, shit,” you cussed under your breath, hastily pulling it back as if it was leprotic, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—“

“Please, continue,” he insisted softly. Gave you a few seconds to finish crumbling into stupid tipsy pieces and stepped back, all of his attention centered precisely on your earnest apology.

Oh, nevermind, someone please scratch the ‘showed you some mercy’ part.

“I was rude,” you confessed (as if it wasn’t obvious enough already). “Unacceptably so. I’m not exactly… good with social cues — but it’s no excuse, I should never have said that. Especially within the first five minutes of meeting you,” the words were flowing out of your mouth so naturally — surprisingly smooth for someone who’d normally take three to five business days to come up with a proper atonement (or even consider the necessity of one whatsoever).

“Do you think I could somehow… make it up to you?” you hit him with your most pitiable arrow, the one you were saving up for special occasions when you really did mean to somehow atone for all the damage, eyes two pretty things seeking his forgiveness with a sporadic, perplexed blink. But they saw none — he’d frowned, hummed in consideration, and then tormented you with silence for just a few more everlasting seconds, making you sink your lips softly into the edge of your nail and scrape some polish off of it. Squinting instantly at the awful, chemical taste — and Viktor finally gave up.

You’d realized it was your first time hearing him laugh much later. It was, indeed, a thing to remember — all raspy, strangely domestic, not malicious or willing to destroy you any further. And yes — technically, he was laughing at you, but if that’s what you’d get every time this man filled the air with that soft laughter — then you may as well become a circus employee just to figure out how to make him emit more of it.

“All is forgiven,” he assured you, shaking his head, “the second you made that face, actually. But no more of that, please. If that’s how you plead — then I’m afraid I might someday forgive you something utterly unacceptable.”

He’s sweet, you sighed, an unsure smile returning plastered across your face once again.

Perhaps you should start listening to Jayce more often.

“But back to your request,” Viktor was quick not to let you turn into a puddle on that still scorched by the sun ground, “a counterpart — is that what you need? Why not join a chess club, then?”

His question didn’t mean any harm, and he obviously just asked it out of sheer curiosity — yet it still made you feel a tad bit demeaned. Not by him, of course, just by the fact those arrogant fucks still dared to coexist without you.

Perhaps they would be willing to reconsider if they saw your behavior tonight?

You sighed, shrugging off his query. “I tried to. They didn’t let me because I don’t have a rating.”

“Really? Well that’s just strange — since when does one need a rating for it?” his confusion was genuine, eyes widened drastically as if he’d just heard the biggest absurdity of his entire life.

“That’s what I said,” you whined in a tone of a natural gossip-girl, almost ready to chain-smoke the entire rest of your pack now that you were reminded of your misery.

“I see,” Viktor hummed, stroking a thumb over the line of his sharp chin in deep scrutiny, “hm, I’m certain I’ve never heard them demand a rating for enrollment before. A club is not a tournament, after all.”

“Wait, are you a member of our chess club?” the realization quickly absorbed you, but Viktor didn’t quite catch on to your astonishment.

“Yes,” he dryly confirmed, “yes, I am. Not that I spend much time there though — those gentlemen are simply… how do I put it politely? Mediocre. Incompetent. I don’t like careless opponents — what’s the point in playing them if you can picture how exactly you can win within seconds?”

Within seconds. You froze in apparent disbelief, trying to figure out whether he’s bluffing or actually being serious, awaiting tensely on something — anything — that might indicate a joke. But not a single muscle on his pale face twitched into a smile — he’d responded with a look as awfully inquisitive as yours, unsure of what exactly you expect him to do.

So he does mean it. In that case, he’s either very full of himself — or these boys are, in fact, that hopeless in chess. And something kept telling you that it most likely was the ladder.

“I’m jealous then, I suppose,” you offered him a safe answer, toying thoughtlessly with your poor, rusty lighter.

“Please don’t be,” he protested with a careful plea. “Envy is a waste of time. You should pursue ways to expand your knowledge — not to contract them with such trivialities.”

Bold of him to assume you might envy his skills. Well, yes — you were definitely beaming with envy, but he didn’t need to know that just yet.

You snorted, almost letting that toxic conceit take over whatever pieces of common sense Viktor had just punched back into you — and his words dwelled, slinking through your skull, filling you not with thirst for vengeance, but with inspiration. It gave you some time to form a decent comeback, so you used it wisely: by delivering precisely that kind of answer, eyes rolling playfully at his discreet lecture.

“I don’t envy your tactics,” you informed him, gracefully holding your head up, “I envy the fact you have someone to show them to.”

And that boy smiled again, forcing your light vertigo to return — but not out of tipsiness or so-called ‘arrogance poisoning’.

“So do you,” he whispered, and watched you derail with the most victorious countenance known to a man. Reminding you nonchalantly that he doesn’t need a single chess piece to have you in a stalemate.

That muggy bar might’ve offered you an experience of being trapped in a figurative, impossibly narrow coffin, but Viktor’s presence was the thing that truly made you feel like an actual cadaver — all empty thoughts, and stiffness, and skipped heartbeats.

But Jayce forgot to mention that your new competitor was also deeply laconic.

“Meet me in the library next… Friday, if you’re available?” he wasn’t generous enough to award you with any more seconds to recover from this exchange, impatiently expecting a confirmation. You could only manage a non-verbal one, nodding weakly at his offer.

“Say… somewhere around noon?” he mused, and you instantly nodded again, waiting obligingly for his next suggestion. What a pleasure it is to do business with you!

“Perfect,” he snatched the words out of your mouth, already half-turned to the bar entrance, “please bring a board, and I shall bring the clocks… Yes, the library should suffice — it’s not like a game of chess requires much conversation either way. Now, please do excuse me — I really need to steal Jayce away for a minute.”

You watched him vanish into that devilish, so utterly unfitting for a man of his kind place; eyes nailed into his back as the crowd of feasting people swallowed your new interlocutor. Letting an excited little breath slip past your open mouth, escorting him with an uncoordinated wave of a shaky hand — a rather silly, excessive gesture since he wasn’t able to see it, and yet it still felt right — like a perfect little farewell to strengthen this newfound friendship with.

That’s how you met your counterpart — or, perhaps, that’s what you used to see in him once.

What you were still oblivious about — is that this man will conquer you in much more capacities than just the game that brought you two together.

⸻

tags (please let me know if you’d like to be added to them) : @zaunitearchives @blissfulip

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x f!reader #arcane fanfic #viktor smut #*throws this thing at you and vanishes*#the cunterpart

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eijirousbestie · 8 days

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since ur one of the realistic bakugou writers (just like what that anonie said) what do u think about: 1.him being jealous over his s/o. we always see those possessive or jelly bakugou writings, but i think it's kinda over exaggeration sometimes. 2.with affectionate s/o? like, i know things may be very awkward at the start of their relationship but what if his s/o suddenly has the urge to pepper kisses all over his face & hug him so tight? srry if it's stupid😭

Jealousy + Affection

Jealousy

——————————————-

He’d unsuspectingly pull them into his room when they aren’t looking, closing the door behind the two and standing tall with a displeased frown on his face. Jealousy is one of the feelings Katsuki rarely ever feels. And when he does, he absolutely hates it. It doesn’t make sense to him. He has everything he could ever need. An incredible power, insane strength, intellect like no other and a tongue as sharp as a knife. What the hell would he ever be jealous about? Or at least that’s what he would’ve thought before he got close enough to someone to call his own.

“We needa talk,” he’d grumble, brows knit together. “That ‘new friend’ of yours is pissing me off. I swear they only ever need you when I finally have you to myself.”

He’s realistic. He knows they’re not just gonna drop someone for him just because he doesn’t like them for unproved reasons, but that still doesn’t mean he won’t stop wishing they will. Until then, he’ll keep taking extra measures to make sure they can make up for lost time spent together. He’d spend extra time giving TLC he usually wouldn’t, feeling like he’d need to remind his partner where home really is.

In no way is he being overtly possessive or trying to tie his partner down. That’s just crazy as hell. He’s just worried about the third party’s intentions with his person, untrusting of what their motives may be or what their influence is on his partner. He knows they can handle their own but still it’s just a normal concern.

Then again, this is Katsuki we’re talking about so when he has his mind set on something it’s hard to change his mind about it, but he tried to be flexible for them. He tries. Jealousy is a bitch.

————————————————————

Affection

Having an affectionate partner isn’t always the easiest for Katsuki to deal with but that doesn’t mean he won’t try. Most likely this person would be one of the very few relationships he’s had throughout his life. Being career and goal focused for years on end left him with no time to think about all that lovey dovey bullshit other people his age would drown in. But everybody wants somebody, even if it’s just a friend.

And that’s how the two had started. Being friends with Katsuki is no easy feat. Having to put up with constant yelling, bickering and outrageously childish arguments, it wasn’t a cake walk. But it sure as hell was still fun just like any other friendship. The two had gotten along unsuspectingly well even though their personalities were near opposite. Him being reserved and self righteous; them being outwardly friendly and super connected to people.

In most cases Katsuki wouldn’t give someone like them the time of day, but of course they’re a rare case. His rare case. Katsuki could find solace in them knowing that whatever stupid shit he might spew could easily be returned with matched energy. The sense of mutual respect would then blossom them into a budding relationship, one where he could feel safe enough to fall with them completely.

At the beginning, yes it was a bit awkward. He wasn’t the skinship type at all and didn’t really understand why someone had to be glued to another person’s skin damn near 24/7. But after being slowly acclimated to hand holding, he starts to warm up to mutual touch. Having gotten used to being hugged up by them since the earlier stages in their friendship, of course he knows all their tells months into their new relationship.

Occasionally coming in for a hug, he’d accept, letting them do so as long as it wasn’t overly performative. There’s a happy balance in everything so he’d gotten to learn how to take it with stride after a while. Well, only if they hadn’t pestered him with too much physical contact in one day. One too many hugs? He’d put a palm to their face and lightly shove them away, not using any real strength to hurt them. Only enough to send the message that he’s all hugged out.

Of course, if he noticed he’d been neglecting their love language of touch, he’d concede, but in his own way. Loungin on the couch with them, he may glance down and notice their hands resting in their lap as they focus on the television. His gaze would drift up to the side of their face, watching their expression closely before taking their hand in his and putting it in his lap instead, lightly stroking the back of their hand with his thumb.

Katsuki can be a hardass sometimes. Most of the time. But he’s incredibly perceptive of people, especially those he holds close to his heart. So of course he’d do what he can to make them feel comfortable around him all while keeping himself comfortable and preserving his own boundaries.

————————————————————

#I’m late I know #sorry for the hiatus #mha headcanons #bakugou katsuki #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou headcanons #katsuki bakugou #my hero academia

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kira-broflovski · 1 year

Text

Stuck With Me || Kenny McCormick x Reader

note: characters are in high school

Drunken yells, and occasional shattering of glass, echoed throughout the tiny house the McCormick family resided in. Every shout and break only frightened the children of the family, no matter how much they were used to it by now.

Kenny knew he needed to get out again, and he knew exactly who to text and where to go.

"wanna go for a walk. ill come 2 u"

Without waiting for your response, he made his way over to your house so he could meet you and have one of your usual walks around the town. The two of you often did this when his parents had more intense fights.

Something about you brought him peace, but he had no idea what these feelings were. All he knew was that he's had them for as long as you've been close.

He looked up into the blanket of stars above him, and he watched a cloud slowly drift by the moon while it lit up the sky.

Amazed by the sky's seemingly never-ending beauty, he felt compelled to stop walking for a minute and just admire it.

Never in his life did he feel so small and insignificant.

"Please, God, if you even exist please give me a sign things are going to get better. Or at least a warning." He continued to stare, motionless, at the moon. "Give Kevin and Karen better lives, let mom and dad find peace, or just anything. Any sign, for Christ's sake." He spat his prayers under his breath.

"Just give me a fucking sign, please!"

"Kenny? Are you out here?"

He snapped out of his resentful begging and looked down to spot you in the distance looking for him.

"Kenny!?"

You had run outside because you swore you heard his voice yelling something and maybe something had happened to him on the way to your house.

"Y/N!" He called back, coming to his senses.

"Kenny! I'm so glad you're safe." You let out a deep breath as you both walked towards each other.

The two of you spent a while just walking around aimlessly, enjoying each other's company and laughing at the usual drunkards that littered Main Street at night. You brought up anything that would distract him from his undeserved home life... not that he calls that place a real home.

Later, you had found yourselves sitting on a bench by the quaint pond on the outskirts of town.

"God, the sky is so pretty out here." You were staring up at the sky, and Kenny thought the stars shined brighter in your eyes.

That's when his feelings had hit him like a truck.

He decided it probably wasn't best to confess immediately, he still needed time to internalise those thoughts and he wanted to experience what it felt like to have a real crush on someone while his friends tease him about it. He craved that sense of normalcy; a regular teenage life.

"Y/N?" He began. "Do you think... do you think the future will be okay for us?"

You continued to look around the jet-black sky as you answered him. "You, Kevin, and Karen will have better things one day. I'm sure of it."

"God, I hope so. But, uh, I meant between the two of us. Do you think we'll still have each other in the future?"

"You're not getting rid of me that easy!" You laughed as you finally tore your eyes away from the abyss and looked at Kenny instead, who was already staring at you.

"Believe me, I don't want to." He raised his hands in defense when you got closer to him.

"Good. You're stuck with me anyways." Feeling a surge of confidence, you laid your head on his shoulder and looked out onto the pond.

That's when he decided to sling his arm over your shoulder and pull you closer into him, the gesture making you both smile.

"Nobody else I'd rather be stuck with, Y/N."

#kenny mccormick #kenny mccormick x reader #south park x y/n #south park #south park x reader #south park fanfiction #fluff

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hereforthefunnyguys · 1 month

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Just a thought, but like you should totally talk about how much you love irateshipping.

I lvoe it so much you guys my thoughts are sometimes easy to figure out and sometimes they're just kind of a blurry static field of warmth but i'll try my best.

As a side note, this got. Uh. Long. So it's under a cut now.

Okay so the first thing I adore about it is that it can really easily switch between a kind of funny domestic dynamic with two teenagers who don't know how to make emotions work and also can be “fucked up traumatized dudes try to kill each other with a gun.” That part is great for me.

Second of all, I talk a lot about like mariks perspective on the whole thing but I don’t know if I talk about Joey's perspective on the whole thing where like... Marik is objectively everything he hates. He's controlling, he's wealthy, he's narcissistic, he's like kaiba if kaiba was somehow worse and had nicer hair <- whoa who said that? Yet he still possesses a kind of inherent charm that ends up pulling you in closer and sort of forces Joey to have some kind of feeling about him, whether that be hatred or love or just "Wow! What a Freak".

I like to picture (read: there's no canon evidence for it, but a man can fantasize) that there's kind of a... weird attraction to Marik, especially with the brainwashing in a "i don't have to think anymore" way. Like, uh how do I explain this; Joey is used to having to work all the time to support himself and his family.

He goes for 7 straight hours at school doing work he doesn't understand with teachers that hate him, around friends that love him (and he loves back!) but always seem to overshadow him and, at least in canon, don't seem to quite 'get' the situation he's in at home, plus, you know, Yugi + Atem always overshadowing with the one big hobby he has. Then he goes back home, gets yelled at by his dad and has to play tip-toe around him (or, at least, I'd assume so), then hauls ass out to go work until 9:00, buy cheap dinner, then collapses and wakes up at 6:30 the next morning to go work again before going to school again. He's burning out 24/7. First man to ever desperately need a workers union for the simple act of existing.

But then Marik comes along with the Ghouls, and gets to say, you don't need to think anymore. You don't have to worry anymore. All the decisions are made for you. And it's never explicitly stated (probably because it would be a lie lmao) but in Joey's head this also has a connotation of you're finally safe. And you know what? To Joey, that's kind of blissful. No thinking. No more worrying. Just sort of... existing.

Of course, he hates it too, obviously. It's sickening to feel yourself be puppeted like that, out of your own control, forced to fight the people you love, etc. So we can't be having that. But there is still a certain bond thats formed by having someone inside your mind, and it goes both ways; not only is Joey dealing with the feeling of having all his brains pried open and picked apart like stir-fry, but Marik also now knows everything that happens in Joey's head. What's that even like??? Does it make him feel bad for Joey? Is he attracted to it? Does it just make him think Joey is stupid? Does he feel a sense of responsibility to maybe try and fix some of those problems when he becomes a Good Person? Is he now like the Expert on how Joey's brain works and has to decide how to use (or abuse) that knowledge?

Post-Battle City, I think they have a very awkward relationship. In canon they seem friendly, but imo thats kind of a cover-up for the awkwardness, because what else are they supposed to say to each other? "Hey, again, guy who brainwashed me and saw the innermost depths of my mind!" "I told you I don't do that anymore :(" type stuff. If you put them in a room alone, it'd just be like. An hour straight of pure silence, occasionally interrupted by asking where the bathroom is and conversations that go like "well uh how's life been?" "Not great." "ah. okay. cool. Cool."

At least imo Joey doesn't actually realize what he has are romantic feelings. In his mind, this weird sweatiness he feels and inability to put Marik out of his mind is probably a side effect of brainwashing or something. Marik does though. Marik is pretty much permanently looking at Joey like he wants to eat him alive or, perhaps more scandalously in his mind, hold his hand.

Also... This is a different conversation but I think marik is like - Jealous? Approving? Something like that- of joey. Not in a “I want to be an impoverished delinquent bad boy who breaks the rules” way but more in a “see, this is what I Should Have Been. The loyal son that sticks by his father no matter what.” And in one hand he doesn’t particularly care for Joeys father (finds him classless and unappreciative) and, on a surface level, recognizes that their situations are very Very different, but the jealousy remains. Like. That should be me trying up there.

Because both Marik and Joey have the same specific form of daddy issues where they wholeheartedly believe that they are the problem here, so if they just go the Right Chance they could fix everything with their parents and could live happily ever after. So they end up in an endless feedback loop of (nodding) "yes, he's doing the right thing by trying to make it up to his dad" and don't get why their friends are all like "please go talk to like. Someone else about this. Anyone."

I do think they have potential to actually help each other out with this type of stuff as they mature and are able to also recognize the affect that it has on the other ("You go deer-in-the-headlights whenever you're around open fire"/"you start cringing uncontrollably whenever someone throws anything at you") but also Not Right Now! right now they're not even talking to each other.

Anyways. Yeah. God. I'm in love with them in case you couldn't tell. I don't even know if this makes sense to anyone else other than me but I'm having fun and thats what matters mostly

Also yeah sometimes its that marik just wants to date a stupid jock and hes so real for that. Let marik have a good boyfriend and psychologically torment joey more 2k24 campaign.

Anyways enjoy a Collection (of scenes where they are in the same panel)(*devours my rarepair scraps*)

#irateshipping #marik ishtar #joey wheeler #ygo #wwoohoo #my stuff

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dthmet · 10 months

Text

It came to me in a dream. /j

I’m only posting this because I need somewhere to put my shenanigans. (And also so my next post makes more sense but shhhhhh secret)

Basically, me and my friends all started playing this Burger game on roblox together in Tf2 cos and it was fun as FUCK

I jokingly said “what if I made a Burger King AU were they all work at burger king” I was gnna write a fanfic (think I still might) about them all instead of being mercenaries, they are burger king employees, and the thought hasn’t left me SINCE.

So, here are some little ideas I thought would be funny to put down somewhere other than my notes app:

Scout chasing Spy around the kitchen areas with a tray, trying to hit him with it. (Actually happened in game, it was funny as fuck)

Medic being weirdly protective over his “area” of the staff room, were he sits and experiments on the food. (Wait, where did he find all of those medical instruments??? And is that… a mutated burger???)

Spy wearing suits or turtlenecks under his uniform, he says it’s because at least SOMEONE has to look presentable in the establishment. (Engie then reminds him he’s working at a Burger King, not a 5 star restaurant. Spy then spends the rest of the work day moping around and mumbling about how “he could’ve done better than this”)

Engineer surprisingly being a clean freak and gets heavily offended when Sniper forgets to wash his hands in the employee bathroom. (After that Engie refused to let Sniper be anywhere near the customers or kitchen until Engie made sure Sniper’s hands were 100% clean.)

Pyro has almost burnt down the whole building MULTIPLE times. Any kind of food you get from them is always somewhat burnt, or has some unwanted candy that pyro got from god knows where lodged into it.

Heavy has scared off so many rude customers, whenever somebody has an issue with an entitled customer who’s just there to complain and scream for their manager, they always call Heavy in to stare them down and calmly (yet intimidatingly) explain that they need to leave— or whatever applies to the situation.

Demo has shown up drunk to work so many times, it’s a miracle he hasn’t been fired yet. But also occasionally if a rude customer tries bothering him, he’ll cuss them out with very slurred Scottish slang/insults— only reason he hasn’t been fired for that yet is because no one can even understand what he said. (“Awa’ an’ bile yer heid! Ye bawbag!”)

Solider is a hit with the middle aged men, he often yells about america and waves the American flag around the building, once Solider had gotten ahold of the speakers in the Burger King and started blasting the American anthem on LOOP. (He was not allowed to uses the speakers again after that.

Sniper is absolutely horrible with the customers, he’s always either saying too much or too little (and usually when he is saying too much it’s because he started panicking, and then told some customer all about how Australia is like, definitely over sharing about his own personal life in Australia). He ends up accidentally putting the customers off of their food by sharing some gross detail about the bugs or animals there, he then sits outside at the back and cringes over how stupid that was of him.

I May return soon with more Burger King AU info… shhhhh

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #burger king #Burger King AU #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 heavy #tf2 demoman #this is so stupid #tf2 au

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gmanwhore · 7 months

Text

Talking about a third TF2 team. Me and my girlfriend made up. It's called Team PNK. Her (@the-main-characters) sonas will be in pink (the descriptions for them are also written by her), mine will be in green. And the other guys will be in white or black or whatever default text colour is. *Grins* Also uh if you couldn't tell Lagomorpha and Dynamite are the two we thought least about. Very sorry to those two they do rock.

What is Team PNK?: They are a group of replacements for the main Mercs. They were trained by their respective classes (from both teams) so they are ready to step in whenever needed. They don't know they are replacements, and are still occasionally sent into fights to keep them ready. They are all under twenty five since. Replacements. These guys are investments.

The Scout: Car Crash -> A bit of what could you say?. . A delinquent? She is brash, agressive, acts before thinking and sometimes can be a bit too energetic. But don't let that fool you, she is a loyal friend and someone you definitely want at your side, can be a little too moral sometimes and gets very nervous with her teammates antics. She is the twin sister of Charlotte and had been supporting her and been by her side since they were kids. Something is going on between her and Miss Pauling

The Engineer: Gunpowder -> Guaranteed to blow your mind! This girl has both brains and beauty by her side. She is on the more mature side of the team but don't let that fool you! She often uses her insane IQ to do stuff that can and will defy nature, her machines are more advanced than any modern technology can explain, and can and will tell you why you are wrong and she is right. She is also strong as a truck and will often jump into actions. All of this and her winning personality that keeps the team together make her a great asset

The Sniper: Goldie -> Some girls like hunting for clothes, this specific girl likes to hunt people. She comes from a great line of assassins, her father was one, her mother was one, her grandpa was one, her grandma was one, her dog was one. . I think you get the idea. But that does not mean she cannot have a winning look while killing you! In fact she will fight people over the prettiest shoes on sale. And they are gonna lose, everytime, believe me

The Medic: Doll -> They are just as chaotic as you would expect from a Medic. No they don't have a medical license, but they are still "good" at what they do. Very little of their original body remains as they have replaced their body parts with other people's so much that only their head (barring their eyes) is original! They are the self appointed team leader and while they act like their team is a drag on them they do deeply care about these idiots and will not lose them under any circumstances. They have a...thing for the Administrator. We all hope they don't get together.

The Pyro: Sparky -> Again, they are exactly what you'd expect from a Pyro! They are joyful and friendly, and very kind to their teammates. They are a ball of energy and always plunge right in to the heat of battle (pun intended). Gunpowder is their best friend and is really the only one who's learned to understand them. There really isn't one person on the team that isn't happy to have Sparky around. The only thing they don't respond well to is angry yelling. That makes them very upset and you don't want to do that.

The Spy: Charlotte -> You know the term "Do it scared"? Charlotte does everything like that. The less impulsive and chaotic of the twins, Charlotte is a ball of anxiety. Don't take that to mean she isn't an amazing spy, she's quiet as a cat and as good of a killer as one. She doesn't like being a Merc but since Car Crash is there she is too. She has grown more comfortable with (most) of her team, though, and is almost at the point she can join in the playful teasing.

The Soldier: Sam -> Hard-headed, hot blooded, and loud as an eagle! Sam can come off as a bit annoying, but she just plays very rough. She can be a bit of a bully and be harsh on people, but it's really because she has no filter at all. She thinks with her fists, which often gets her into incursions with the stronger members of the Team. She has a horrible sense of humour but an infectious laugh. She also thinks Sam is her best friend (she is not)

The Heavy: Lagomorpha -> Often seen as the most mature of the group, Lagomorpha also happens to be the most gentle...when not fighting. She tends to leave the planning to other people, but she is incredibly confident in her ability to win any fight she enters. She isn't as attached to her guns as the Heavy we all know is, but she does take incredible care of them. She is the quietest of the group, next to Charlotte, but it's more because she prefers to listen to people than to talk.

The Demoman: Dynamite -> She has a very apt name. She is very passionate about her explosives, always explaining she has how she uses them down to a science. How she operates makes sense only to her and she likes it like that! She does drink just as much as the other Demomen, and of course she makes the empty bottles into Molotov cocktails. In her mind everything can be used to either make explosives or make her explosives better. The least sciencey mad scientist out there!

#tf2 ocs #tf2 oc #team fortress 2 oc #tf2 oc scout #tf2 oc sniper #tf2 oc soldier #tf2 oc spy #tf2 oc engineer #tf2 oc medic #tf2 oc pyro #tf2 oc heavy #tf2 oc demoman #tf2 oc team #team pnk

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msanimedolphin · 1 year

Text

~Back In The Game~

~Chapter Five~

-Series Masterlist-

What happens when a girl who loves volleyball joins a boys' volleyball club? Does she find love? Will she relive her past or move forward? Join (L/N) (Y/N) on a journey with fun twists and turns.

I don't own Haikyuu or any of the characters.

-Last Time-

After it’s cleaned up you feel a tap on your shoulder. Slowly opening your eyes and moving your hands away from your ears, you look at the person.

“Suga?”

“Are you okay?” He asks worriedly

“Y-Yea, I just don’t do well with vomit.” You explain while sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck and chuckling. ‘So cute’ Suga thinks while blushing.

“HOW DARE YOU MAKE OUR ANGEL UNCOMFORTABLE!!” Tanaka scolds.

“Hinata you moron!” Kageyama yells.

“I’m so sorry (Y/N)!!” Hinata yells while bowing at a 90-degree angle. “I didn’t mean to!”

“It’s okay Hinata, you didn't know. I’m more worried about you.” You say while walking up to him. “Are you feeling okay?” You put your hand on his forehead. At this action, Hinata bursts into a blush that could rival a tomato. “You’re burning up!” You scream. “Oh boy, we need to get you some medicine! I think I have some in my bag!” As you begin frantically looking in your bag you don’t realize that you're being stared at. The cause of those stares is the three boys who aren't being fussed over. They all have a similar thought, ‘Hinata you lucky bastard’

-Friday After School-

“Move your feet more, not just your hands!” Kageyama scolds Hinata as you watch the two work on the shorter ones receiving skills. ‘This isn’t going to end well.’ you think as you see Hinata begin to daydream. Kageyama seems to notice this as well but before you can say anything the ball hits Hinata straight in the face.

“Quit daydreaming and concentrate!” Kageyama yells as you sigh and walk up to them. “Tomorrow is the 3-on-3!”

“I know that! Tomorrow we will win and be let back into the gym!” Hinata replies.

“Then you guys can finally practice with your team!” You add cheerfully. Your statement causes both to stop and look at you weirdly. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘our’ team?” Hinata asks. “They’re your team too.”

You freeze. ‘My team too…’ you think while looking down. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve been able to say something like that.’ A few seconds later you lift your head to look at the two in front of you. “Yeah, you’re right!” You say with a huge smile and tears in your eyes. Seeing the tears causes them to freak out. Hinata keeps apologizing while Kageyama yells at him, occasionally yelling ‘Boke Hinata Boke!’ You smile at them fondly. ‘My team…’

-Meanwhile in Gymnasium 2-

*Yawn*

“You two seem sleepy.” Daichi says, suddenly appearing behind them. Tensing, both Suga and Tanaka realize they’ve been caught. Quickly turning around they begin to defend themselves.

“I guess I’ve just been studying too much.” Suga explains while rubbing his neck.

“Y-Yeah me too!” Tanaka blurts out. Daichi doesn’t look the least bit convinced.

“It doesn’t sound as good coming from you!” Suga whispers to the second year beside him.

“Wha-!”

“Anyway… now that you’re here I’d like to introduce the other first years that are joining the club.”

“Nice to meet you!” Two voices call out, one being a bit more enthusiastic than the other.

-Back to You-

“Now look at what you’ve done!” Kageyama scolds.

“ME?! I told you to go easy since we’re outside!” Hinata defends.

“Hinata does have a point.” You speak up.

“Well maybe if you could receive it properly this wouldn't be a problem!” Kageyama retorts toward Hinata.

“And… I’m ignored…” You say rolling your eyes and going to get the volleyball out of the tree. Tuning out the argument you’re about to pick up a stick to hit the ball with but Kageyama beats you to it. Sighing, you follow the boys back to your places to continue the practice. Just before you are about to begin something… or someone stops you.

~To Be Continued~

#daichi x reader #sugawara x reader #haikyuu imagines #tanaka x reader #tsukishima x reader #hq x reader #haikyu x reader #kenma x reader #haikyuu!!#akaashi x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hinata x reader #tsukishima x y/n #yamaguchi x y/n #~back in the game~

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hellsbellschime · 9 months

Text

So I'm really at the end of my rope, bitching and moaning under the cut

So for those of you who haven't been around since the stone age or just aren't in the know, my mom is bipolar. Her doctors in their infinite wisdom decided to test taking her off lithium, and shock of all shockers she is now manic as fuck. Like I just got an email from my landlords threatening possible eviction if her erratic behavior doesn't stop even though we haven't even been here for six months level manic.

So, given that she's literally mentally ill and is a selfish, manipulative, uncaring asshole even when she's medicated, she took my brand new car (it literally doesn't even have 1k miles on it yet) probably like 17 hours ago at this point (I have a time-stamped DM about it from like 13 hours ago), did something to damage it enough to need one of the tires replaced (and she says it's fine but somehow doubting it) EARLY YESTERDAY AFTERNOON and she still hasn't come home. I have called repeatedly, she has occasionally answered, and even giving her the biggest benefit of the doubt in the world it should have taken her about 20 minutes to get home when I called two hours ago.

Honestly my level of stress is just unreal, not only has she managed to abscond with and fuck up the most valuable thing I have ever owned in my life that is brand new and was a pretty huge thing for me to even get in the first place, but as you can imagine, this is not my first rodeo so the childhood trauma triggering is A LOT. And I just can't help but hate myself for not disengaging from this mess, deadass I moved to California as soon as I graduated from college specifically so this would not have to be my life anymore, and now here I am going through this same shit years later and never fully being able to enjoy my life and accomplishments because I have to wrangle a literal crazy person who has no one else.

It just sucks, I never asked for this, and unsurprisingly every other person in her life has tapped out over the years because it's too much and she's just too unkind for anyone to power through it for her so-called good times. She has said many times that she would have literally died at some point if it weren't for me, and while I obviously don't want her dead, that is an ENORMOUS amount of responsibility that I never asked for, and it is a responsibility that has drained a lot of good out of my life. I know everyone has to deal with shit, but having to deal with a mentally ill person who just takes and takes and takes and will tell you you're an asshole every time you try to genuinely help them just completely sucks the life out of you. At this point I wish she would just go off and live her dream crackhead life and leave me out of it, FFS we've been living in our new apartment for 5 months and she hasn't given me rent money once so at least I know I can do it on my own if necessary, and I'm just so fucking SPENT. For god's sake, I just called her again in the process of writing this damn post and she started yelling at me as if I'M the asshole in this scenario.

I just want to sit and cry and have the biggest pity party in the world and more than that I JUST WANT THIS FUCKING SHIT TO END and I want to feel like I can have a full life rather than trying to play cleanup crew for a person who treats me this way. I never dislike myself more than I do when I'm around her, and I hate that pity for someone who is frankly a complete asshole even on the best day has kept me trapped in a situation where I always feel like I'm my worst, saddest, meanest self. I'm just so fucking over it and don't want the responsibility of holding someone's life together when it feels like all I've done and dealt with since I was a kid. So all of you mfers better send all of your pity feels my way because literally no one on planet earth has a more difficult life than I do!

#real life woes

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study-coffee-chicago · 2 years

Note

Can I request halstead sister and episode 3x18 of med where she took Natalie’s son to the park and both jay and will are worried, maybe an injury it’s serious but not life threatening?

Here it is! Sorry it took me so long!

“You’re goin’ so fast, bud! I gotta run to keep up with you!” you told Owen as you jogged beside him as he rode his scooter in Millenium Park. Occasionally, you would babysit Owen when her nanny got sick or had a prior commitment and today was one of those days.

Owen just giggled at your response and started riding faster.

Then, you heard three quick pops. You figured it was just some dumb kids playing with fireworks in the daytime, but then you heard screaming and more pops.

Gunfire.

Someone was shooting up the park.

“Owen, Owen, we gotta go, bud. We gotta go!”

“Why? I’m having so much fun!” he whined.

“I know, I know. But we have to go.”

You looked at the people running towards you and knew if you didn’t move now that you and Owen would be trampled.

You made the split-second decision to pick him up and you started running with him in your arms.

“My scooter! My scooter!”

“I know! But we gotta get out of here. We can come back for your scooter,” you told him as you quickly ran through the park and towards your car.

You didn’t set Owen down until you got to the safety of your car and got him buckled in.

You breathed a sigh of relief as you jumped in and started driving.

You were almost to the safety of the road when you were stopped by police barricades.

You slammed your hands on the steering wheel and cursed to yourself. They needed to take statements and your phone was going to die. You looked in the center console for your charger, but then you couldn’t find it.

This was gonna be a long wait and you knew that when your brothers and Natalie heard about the shooting, they were going to be worried sick. But, you needed to preserve your battery in case something else happened–such as another shooter–so you just didn’t go on it and turned on the radio to a kids’ station, hoping to occupy Owen.

***

Jay walked frantically into the ED trying to find his suspect…or at least that what’s he told himself he was trying to do. In reality, he was trying to figure out if you were here and Will hadn’t heard or called yet. When he heard from Natalie that you and Owen might possibly be at Millenium Park, he quickly tracked your phone and saw that you were there. But, he didn’t want to freak Natalie out, so he just told her that he know anything right now.

“Will!” Jay hissed when he saw him leave a patient’s room.

“Jay, I really can’t talk right now. Can’t it wait?” Will asked as he rushed around.

“No, it can’t wait. C’mere.” And without giving Will any warning, Jay grabbed onto his sleeve and led him to the doctor’s lounge.

“What’s going on, Jay? In case you didn’t know, we have a mass casualty event and I need to get back out there and help!” Will practically yelled.

“Shh! Keep your voice down! I don’t need Natalie hearing this.”

“What?” “Listen, did Owen or Y/N come into the ED? Have you heard from Y/N at all?” Jay asked.

“No. Why?”

“I pinged her phone and the last place it was at Millennium Park. It’s dead now.”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit!” Will said and put his hands on his head and started pacing the room. “We need to tell Natalie.”

“No. Until we know for sure that they’re still there, we can’t do that. I just need you to keep a lookout for Y/N, okay? Because I still need to work this case. And trust me, when I get the chance, I’ll go to Millenium Park to look for them.”

“But–”

“You said it yourself, you have work to do. Now, c’mon.”

The minute they were out of the doctor’s lounge they heard yelling.

“Mama! Mama!”

“Maggie, can you get Natalie or Will?” you asked quickly. “They’re probably worried–”

“Y/N!” You turned at the sounds of both your brothers’ voices.

You breathed a sigh of relief in seeing someone else who could help you. “Hey.”

“Are you hurt?” Jay asked frantically as Will started to look you over.

“Owen! Owen!” Natalie yelled as she sprinted towards the nurses’ station.

“Mama!” he exclaimed and then made grabby hands for her. You handed him over. “My scooter! It’s gone!”

“I’ll get you a new one,” Natalie promised as she hugged Owen tight to her. “Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, we- I heard gunshots and then we ran, and then I couldn’t find my charger and my phone died. Then people had to take our statements and I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you until now.”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad the two of you are safe.”

“Dr. Manning, go home,” Maggie said. “And this isn’t up for discussion.”

Natalie quickly glanced at you and then at Will and then left.

“Y/N, you’re shaking,” Will said.

“I- I am?” Then you looked down at your hands. They were in fact shaking.

“I rode with Hailey on my way here,” Jay said. “I’ll tell Voight what happened and I should be able to be off to be home with her and drive her car home.”

“You sure?” Will asked.

“You said it yourself. You’re needed here.”

Will nodded and then pulled you in for a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I love you.” That was when you started to cry. “It’s just the adrenaline coming down. You’re okay. You’re okay.” He pulled away as an alarm went off. “I gotta go. I love you.”

Jay wrapped an arm protectively around you as you continued to cry and the two of you walked out of the hospital.

***

“That was…scary,” you said as you walked into the kitchen after taking a long shower.

“I know it was,” Jay agreed as he pulled a pizza out of the oven. “But you did what I taught you. You ran as fast as you could and got to safety.”

“I know, but it was still terrifying.”

“I know. I know,” Jay said and started cutting up the pizza. “I know you still might not be hungry, but I want you to eat at least one piece, okay?”

You nodded.

***

After dinner, will had come over with a movie and the three of you watched it on the couch. Jay got up and started towards his room when you quickly stopped him.

“Can you stay out here tonight?” you asked. “And, can you stay?” you asked and turned to Will. “Please?”

“I can do that,” Will agreed.

“I’ll go grab some blankets and pillows. Be right back,” Jay said.

You didn’t get much sleep that night and neither did Will or Jay, but all three of you and Owen were safe and that was all that really mattered in the long run.

#asks #jay halstead #will halstead #natalie manning #chicago med #chicago pd #hc #headcanon #halstead sister #chicago med headcanon #chicago pd headcanon

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lunaria1 · 3 months

Text

Experiment with feelings

Chapter 1

Throughout most of the factory you could hear the screams and please of the experiments no matter where you went. Only a few areas had the luxury of being soundproof; those areas being the break room, the dorm rooms, the experiment rooms and the office rooms. For the rest of the factory you just had to get used to the screams. Most workers still have a moment here and there where they shudder because of the screams. But one worker in the whole factory hasn’t even shown a slight bit of emotion regarding those screams. Hasn’t shown any emotions at all actually. And that’s Walden Darling’s assistant Lunaria. No one knows her surname and no one bothers to ask her. Actually, no one bothers her at all unless it has something to do with work. She acts weird to them and many people stay away whenever she is nearby. They don’t want anything to do with her but Lunaria doesn’t care about that. She’s just here to get her job done and that’s it.

Speaking of work, Lunaria is currently walking down the hallway with a cup of fresh hot coffee in her right hand and a pile of documents in her left. She walks at a fast pace with a blank expression on her face. She knows where she’s going and for what and she’s not going to waste any time. Seeing the door to her boss’s office, she knocked to signal that she’s here. A sharp “Come here” was heard from the other side causing her to open the door with her elbow.

“I got you your coffee boss. As well as the documents about the colour extraction experiment that happened yesterday that you asked for” Lunaria said in her usual monotone voice as she put down the coffee and the documents next to him. Walden nodded and took a sip of his coffee without looking at her or thanking her. This was normal between them, they only talked to each other when needed and they were both fine with that. Walden did occasionally wonder why Lunaria acted so emotionless but he didn’t question it. He just thought that she was being tough and seeing as they kill people in the factory, it was a good skill to have. Walden took a look at the documents and only hummed here and there in acknowledgment of the results.

Walden put down the documents after reading them and finally turned to face his assistant.”I want you to take part in the experiment in room 180 today. It’s an aggressive subject that we will be testing and I want you to be there and make sure that nothing gets out of hand.” Walden said in a serious tone and the look in his eyes showed that there will be consequences if this experiment is screwed up. Lunaria nodded understanding his order and wasn’t planning on messing it up. “Yes sir” she said before leaving his office and heading to room 180.

When she got there, she put on her gloves and read the file about the subject. The subject was a male in his late 30s and was frequently aggressive in his cell and during all of the tests and had to frequently be sedated because of that. A crash and the sound of chains caught Lunaria’s attention. As she looked up she could see at least 5 guards plus the rest of the workers bringing in the test subject and strapping him onto the chair.

“Let go of me you dirty fucking bastard! I will kill you all!” the male yelled causing some of the workers to flinch and move away from him. Lunaria wasn’t affected by it and got the sedative ready as well as the syringe with the colour formula that they’re testing. The main point of this experiment is to see how injecting someone with multiple colours would affect them. “Hold him down whilst I inject him” Lunaria ordered the guards and that’s what they did without any hesitation. This only angered the subject more but now he had more movement restriction.

“Don’t you fucking dare come close to me with that needle!” The subject yelled out even louder but as always Lunaria wasn’t affected. That was the thing that probably made her scarier than Walden- she didn’t show any emotion so no one knew what she was thinking or what she would do next. “Scream all you want but you’ll just be wasting your breath and voice and we’re not going to nurse your voice back into health” Lunaria replied as she approached the subject. The way she acted scared him but he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of seeing him scared because of a girl that was playing tough. Lunaria injected the colour formula into his right arm without any hesitation causing the subject to scream in pain. “What the fuck did you inject me with you bitch?!” the subject yelled, feeling a burning sensation on his arm and inside of it.

“Now we just wait and write down the results,” Lunaria told the workers in the room. Every worker in the room nodded and made sure to note down every single thing, even if it was just a slight change. They all knew just how much information their boss wanted for each experiment and his assistant wasn’t any different. And none of them wanted to end up in the grinder or the next test subject. They may have chosen to work here but they sure as hell didn’t want to die here.

The subject experienced things such as extreme pain, vomitting, burning sensation as well as sudden waves of calm and sadness before passing out from exhaustion. The guards unstrapped him from the chair and took him back to his cell where he would stay until his next experiment or until it was time for him to die. No one knows their fate once they enter this factory and that includes the workers. “Get one of the janitors to clean this mess up” Lunaria said to no one in particular before leaving the room.

#rf au #own character #rf wally #rainbow factory au #rainbow factory wally #oc x canon #Rf au: Experiment with feelings #I don't own this au #welcome home au

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thesunshineriptide · 2 years

Note

Helloooo

I submitted my response for your survey, and I'm just sending in this ask to let you know :)

Have a nice day, make sure you drink water and get enough sleep :D

Hello Bonkers Papaya just so you know you gave me so much information that this might actually be my favorite matchup I’ve done so far because I has so much to sift through. Yknow those little dino dig kits you get for kids?? That’s what this was and it was very very fun for me. I can’t say whether this matchup will be accurate in your eyes but I did my best to think of the people most (and least) compatible with your personality and pet peeves

You described yourself as: perfectionistic, occasionally egotistic, hard-headed, prideful, observant, “lazy”, funny, and smart (hey bonkerspapaya, i feel like you’re a little hard on yourself here-)

Your Pet Peeves Are: People that demand respect, liars, Being asked to do something as [you’re] doing it, When stuff is left open, and Unnecessary waste of anything.

The Dark Mirror has Chosen Your Matches

Partner - Floyd Leech

Before you panic, I recognize that you said you would probably avoid most people at NRC. However…Floyd isn’t avoiding you. You’re funny? You have a hot temper? You have 15 million interests? Listen, despite the fact he’ll probably start out annoying the shit out of you, he’s got your back. Once he finally attaches to someone, he’s insanely loyal to them (even if he says he isn't) and does his best not to take his anger out on them. I can imagine that if anyone ever gave you shit for anything, he’s going to kick their ass, no hesitation. Also, you’re his new snack buddy. He finds a new candy he’s never tried? You’re trying it too. He’s also gonna test your spice tolerance, which he will regret. You two probably won’t get into a lot of trouble, but I’d imagine you’ll still get roped into his antics. He’ll probably be the same one to get you out of them though, so…yay?

Friend - Ruggie Bucchi

He’s a sneaky little guy, but he’s there to talk shit and get money. Any aspect of you that you might see as “lazy” he’ll reassure you is just working smart, not hard. He’s there after classes to tell you the tea about what some dumb freshman did (They broke a chandelier? That sou- ACE AND DEUCE OH SHIT-) He’s also a scrappy bitch that never lets anything go to waste. He’s a bit silly and a prankster but he knows when shits going down and he needs to sober up to deal with it. He also knows that sometimes, getting shit done poorly is better than it not getting done at all, which means if you come across a task you’re nervous about, he’s a good compliment to help with that.

Enemy - Riddle Rosehearts

The little victorian boy demands respect, unfortunately. Maybe you and Riddle post chapter 5 would get along, but I suspect his constant yelling and tantrums over people breaking rules would just be an issue. Heartslabyul is not a safe haven for anyone that has authority issues, since Riddle still very much blindly follows rules and lacks critical thinking skills (though he does get better later). You probably wouldn’t be outright enemies, but it would likely be rather tense between you two. Additionally, I think you wouldn’t do well with Leona since he’s the other half of your pet peeves. Dude probably leaves every door open no matter where he goes and I guarantee that he’s a smartass that asks you something like “get me that?” while you’re literally reaching for it.

#bonkerspapaya #floyd leech #riddle rosehearts #ruggie bucchi #thesunshineriptide 800 event #partner friend enemy #im so sorry but floyd is the match that fit most in my opinion #please do not run away screaming he simply wants to give you a hug #and maybe a bite #also i did drink water thank you #/pos

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mejomonster · 1 year

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I decided I'd write bulletpoint summaries to figure out how to write the next few chapters. So like "x happens, you happens" etc.

But the thing is... when I do that, it helps me get ideas (yay) so then I flesh the bullet point out into 1-20 paragraphs but its STILL in note format so there's some actual lines that are DONE done (like dialogue and some particularly impactful moments of description).

then there's some in a format I HAVE to rewrite later (like "he absolutely loses his shit, tries to rip X limb from limb" I will have to reword ALL the stuff like this which is like 70% of the "fleshed out" summarized notes I write... and its always annoying because it's like... those parts are Basically done conceptually, they have all the details I Needed to include, it's just I worded them like notes and not in nice literary wording so they're NOT fucking usable yet).

And of course, there's the priginal summary bits where I'm just like "They flee the city, go to x. He says never talk to me again, he cant bear it, and goes off to the mountains." Which I'll have to fully flesh out of course. But at least it's all malleable stuff I can word however.

The 2nd kind of summary notes are my best/worst friend ToT on the one hand it's great, the whole scene is fleshed out! On the other hand it's awful cause I know Exactly Every detail I have to write but I have to translate it from "he fucking smashes his head in, seeing red" to like "he crushes his skull under his heel, watching the blood spread across the wooden floor. It's finally over." And like.... ;-; I have to do that shit with every single line, except the occasional blessing where I wrote Full Finished lines in between the 70% note-taking descriptions.

Like. Here's my summary notes I wrote for chapter 11 of what makes monsters stop devouring:

Scenes of Kunlun LEAVING the alliance, and Ye Zun so desperate to help his bro that he marches out there to go confront Kunlun and army ALONE, and ends up telling him off and telling him hes no hero compared to shen wei if he LEAVES, and then Kunlun grabs him and intimidates him just enough for Ye Zun to panicked grab back and absorb a little energy threateningly, then YZ stops cause he wants to make this negotiation work and appear acquiescing no matter how scared he was. Kunlun thinks that’s very brave of him, and proves he’s also very loyal to the thing he came here for and thinks that proves Ye Zun really believes his Black Cloak Envoy is noble and worth all this, and then lets him into his tent to discuss returning. Then the scene of them riding horses ahead back to alliance camp, shen wei immediately seeing them (with mask on) and coming to meet them, and Kunlun inexplicably apologizing for having left without discussing with the chiefs and hearing them out first, and promising he will hear them out if they allow him. Meanwhile SW is just BAFFLED his brother isn’t in danger and that Kunlun isn’t angry and SW is SO confused over what’s going on, but very floored, cause he admires and respects Kunlun at least rep/status wise so he doesn’t know how to handle someone ‘higher’ than him bowing to him and pleading forgiveness and acting submissive to him. What the FUCK did his brother go do???

And in a later arc I wrote a mess of dialogue notes:

At some point after, YZ confronts Kunlun over and over about WHY he got so mad when YZ was trying to help, and finally gets the answer ‘ i already told u i dont’ want you hurt, i don’t want you hurt because of me’ and YZ doesn’t get it, so Kunlun threatens to LEAVE. So YZ tries to get a brainwashed minion to read kunlun’s mind for the answer to avoid a problem for SW, and then Kunlun knocks out the guy before it can happen and goes and finds YZ to privately chat. YZ goes wild and desperate n tries to provoke KL into either telling the truth or injuring him so at least shen wei doesn’t feel like there was any choice BUT for KL to leave or die. Because despite yelling n threatening YZ, to keep YZ away and to keep him from touching his energy, KL still hasn’t actually hurt him. Again, KL says he doesn’t want YZ hurt he wants to keep him safe - and YZ has NO idea how leaving YZ helps

And its like wow I turned that into a 10k chapter but also ;-; is that some people's first drafts? Just the word jumble coming out of your brain trying to summarize? I assume not, I assume a first draft has to actually Be finished sentences lmao. But yeah I write this kind of stuff for long stories and they're a fucking mess because 1 yes I'm grateful cool I know what the plot outline is but 2 dear god its frustrating taking so many Half Written pieces of description and turning them into proper pretty 5 paragraph prose. Anyway yeah some behind the scenes on writing process! ToT

#mejo writing #writing #rant #tbf #i wrote 1.6k of summary notes today #which will probably become 6-15k of actual novel words once fleshed out #if you have seen ANY of my headcanon or meta posts or writing idea for fanfic posts #you know i have a tendency to do the Half Summary Half fleshed out mess thing here #where it would be proper finished fanfic snippet if it didnt START like a notes summary #and if it didnt USE he freaks out/she FUCKING kills him/ etc type wording lol

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 2 years

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I have one episode left in set 4 of No More Jockeys. I realize this isn’t supposed to be the most important thing; I just watched an absolutely lovely episode of them all sitting on a couch together in what I assume is Edinburgh and Alex taking apart a pineapple, and the comedy and chemistry and general sense of fun was at its absolute peak in that episode but at high points in many recent episodes, and I love all those things and have really enjoyed and appreciated them, but I have to say, the thing I’m most excited about is Mark Watson going on a four-game win streak at the end to take a come-from-behind victory in the set. I assume so, at least. He’s up 6-5-5 and there’s only one game left, so he must win the final one because if he didn’t then the set would continue until someone won by 2. Due to them using tennis scoring for reasons that, like most things about this, I’m pretty sure they’ve never explained.

They were 5-5-5 going into the second last game, so I knew whoever won that one would win the next one as well and the whole set, which means I have may spent that episode being a bit more focused on the competitive side than I should have been for a game that was so heavy on all the nice things. It’s just so good! He was down 5-5-3! And he shouldn’t have been! He was losing because he kept giving up too fast when challenged on things for which the others wouldn’t have given up, and probably more than that, because he was too quick to back down on his own challenges. I’ve spent the last couple of days wanting to yell at him for that, except my throat hurts so I can’t yell at the screen. But it turned out it was all building up to a 4-game comeback. The last of which I haven’t seen yet but it must go his way.

I mean, the rest of it was great. The Edinburgh episode (the one where they were all in a hotel together in August 2021, I mean, not any episodes they might have done live in Edinburgh, though they’ve probably done those and those were probably good too) may have been one of their best ones for the back-and-forth and the humour. Alex and his pineapple man. Alex not explaining anything about why he had a pineapple or why he was not wearing a shirt. Tim arguing about the lighting. Tim having his Perrier with him for no explained reason. Mark absolutely falling apart laughing at everything that happened. Tim hitting a nice balance between his usual very aggressive playing style and being more laid back. Normally I’m not a huge fan of balance, I like people who really go one way or the other, including when Tim goes to his usual extreme of very aggressive or his other extreme of not giving a shit. But I was surprised to see that actually, when it’s just an occasional thing as a contrast to all those other games, balance can be a good look on Tim Key.

It was an absolutely lovely game, and I enjoyed every aspect of it, I just feel like I’ll need to re-watch it while knowing the outcome already, so I can sit back and really take in all the nice things, instead of being distracted by a constant thought process of, “Come on, Watson, you were a little out of it in some early parts of this set but you’ve strung a few good ones together, keep your head in the game this time, you can keep it up to the end.” Is it obvious that I miss sports? I fucking miss sports. I was excited about them last week but then I got COVID and now I sort of think I should never leave my bedroom again. All sports should probably be replaced by Zoom games from separate rooms and put on YouTube.

What started me on this path was when I listened to Mark Watson’s episode of the Comedian’s Comedian podcast a few weeks ago, and it reminded me of how much I like him and how the amount of time I’ve spent seeking out his work doesn’t really match up with how much I like him, and I decided to take a short break from doing anything else so I could fix that. That was a very good podcast episode for many reasons, all of which have to do with Mark Watson being an intelligent, thoughtful person who has interesting answers to any question. I particularly enjoyed one discussion of how he evaluated his own stand-up, in which he said he admired other comedians who weren’t afraid to tackle tough subjects head on, while he would talk about tough subjects but then end it on a joke that would undercut his point, and he wished he could get better at not undercutting himself all the time.

He made a comment about wishing he had a better “killer instinct”, which stuck in my mind because I thought it was an interesting term to apply to stand-up comedy. It raises a lot of questions about what that means in a format where you are, of course, supposed to make jokes. There are people who would say it means being willing to just be an asshole and say something outrageously offensive for the sake of it, but that is definitely not what Mark meant when he said he wanted to develop that, and I’m glad because that’s a boring answer. Mark Watson was talking about something much more interesting, about having the guts to discuss serious topics, say difficult things about those topics, and not take away the power of what you’re saying by making it into a joke. Which is difficult, of course, because there are supposed to be jokes in a comedy show. But there are ways to say things that are funny and don’t undercut the larger point, there are ways to say things that are funny and actually highlight the larger point, and I feel like the ability to do that about a difficult point could be called a killer instinct.

This sparked such interesting thoughts for me about what that term means, how to know when you’re doing it right and when you’re doing a pale imitation, how to take a risk on something that will come off really badly if you do it wrong, what comedians should be striving to do if this is something they want to achieve, which of course isn’t the case for everyone. It is quite funny to me to go from that to watching No More Jockeys, where "killer instinct" has a much simpler meaning. To go from a sort of philosophical question about what does and what doesn’t take away from the important things you’re expressing, to saying to my screen: “What the fuck, Mark? You’re backing down on that? You’re letting Tim get away with that, even though you were clearly 100% right in your challenge and you bowed out for way less just last episode? Why do you have no killer instinct?” One time he started the episode by saying he’d decided he was too lenient and was going to try to be more of a dick in this game, and then later on agreed almost immediately to let Tim back in despite them having all agreed that by the rules he should be out.

Basically, according to the stand-up I’ve heard Mark do since that podcast episode was recorded in 2015, and particularly when I compare it to his stuff that I’ve heard from before 2015, I think he has succeeded in many ways at what he set out to do. I don’t think he’s 100% transformed himself into the comedian that he explained in 2015 he wanted to be, mainly because he set a very high bar for himself, but I think he’s closer to being that comedian now than he was then. His recent stand-up tackles difficult subjects with, I think, more of a killer instinct than he used to have. However, shit that matters in any way aside, he has clearly not developed a killer instinct in the field of parlour games played over Zoom. And that is why I am pleased to see him pull it together at the end and take another set. Come on, Mark. You’re better than that.

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