#tomorrow? probably nothing or another shitty meme who knows
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#inochi no tabekata#today I deliver a you a shitty meme#tomorrow? probably nothing or another shitty meme who knows
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long shots ; miya osamu
pairing: miya osamu x f!reader
synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.
tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k
a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL
HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.
“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.
“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”
“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”
A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”
Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.
It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM
But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM
Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.
Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.
The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.
“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.
A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.
You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.
Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.
As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.
Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.
Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.
And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.
The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.
“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.
The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.
“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.
“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.
“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”
Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”
Well, shit.
Hi Osamu,
I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!
Regretfully,
Y/N
MS Candidate
College of Agriculture and Life Sciences
Haikyuu University
From: [email protected]
no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.
OM
PhD Candidate
College of Agriculture and Life Sciences
Haikyuu University
It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.
Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.
His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.
“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.
“Hey.”
You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”
“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”
At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”
Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”
Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”
“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”
“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”
“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”
Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.
“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.
“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”
“Oh?”
And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––
“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”
“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”
Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.
You take it.
Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.
Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.
“He wants you,” she sings.
“Or he was just being nice.”
“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”
“I think he was just being polite.”
“Or he’s crushing on you!”
“In your dreams.”
“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.
A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.
“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”
“Am not!” you laugh.
“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”
“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”
“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”
“Isla.”
“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”
“I’m not asking him out.”
“Knew you were––”
“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”
Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.
“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.
“What?” you whisper back.
“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”
“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”
“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”
He does it again the next class.
And the next.
And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.
He debates pressing the matter.
hey osamu,
i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!
miserably,
Y/N
MS Candidate
College of Agriculture and Life Sciences
Haikyuu University
From: [email protected]
y/n,
of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.
OM
PhD Candidate
College of Agriculture and Life Sciences
Haikyuu University
“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.
He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”
“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.
Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”
“Why?”
“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.
i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.
Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.
“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?
A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”
You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.
“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”
“So you changed.”
“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”
“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”
Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”
“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’
“I’ll be the boss.”
“Oh?”
And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.
The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.
“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.
He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”
“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.
Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”
He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.
“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.
“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”
“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.
“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.
Osamu smirks. “A gift.”
“Can I guess from who?”
“Sure.”
“Atsumu.”
His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.
“I’m smart like that.”
He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”
You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.
“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”
You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”
And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”
Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?
A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”
“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.
“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”
Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”
Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”
“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.
“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.
“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.
“Yeah,” he replies.
You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.
“Goodnight, Osamu.”
“Goodnight, Y/N.”
He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.
But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.
Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.
Speaking of.
“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”
You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.
I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.
And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?
You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.
“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.
“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”
Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”
“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”
“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.
“Correct-o.”
He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.
There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.
Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”
He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.
Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.
“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.
“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”
“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”
“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.
You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.
His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.
From: osamu
good luck on the exam
you’re going to kill it
To: osamu
would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏
From: osamu
bye
To: osamu
i was kidding :(
From: osamu
fine. tip #1: write your name
To: osamu
not very helpful. 0/10
From: osamu
keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be
i’m kidding
you got this, y/n
“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”
“What would you do?” you ask, amused.
“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”
“Solid plan.”
“What about you?” she asks.
“What about me?”
“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.
“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.
“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”
A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.
Holy fuck.
Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.
“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.
Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.
“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”
“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.
“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”
Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”
Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.
He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.
And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”
“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––
“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”
“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.
“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.
You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”
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A Road To Somewhere.
For prompt: road trip
Hypnos/male!reader
Thanatos/Zagreus/Meg in the background.
5.7k total, link to part two at the end.
Warnings: some sexual stuff are talked about but the most that happens is kissing and cuddling. Jokes about cannibalism as well. Alcohol uses. No beta.
Summary: Why talk about your feelings with your childhood best friend when you can just go on a road trip?
A/N: sorry for going silent, I was dealing with some medical issues on top of helping my partner with stuff.
To the Anon who requested this, I'm sorry about the wait, I hope you like this and feel free to always hit me for another request!
At three in the morning, your phone rang.
You groaned as you rolled across your bed. and you squinted at the brightness of your phone.
Hypnos' photo flashed on the screen, the one where he stole your letterman jacket to nap in on the school bus that Zagreus had sent it to you. And if you kept the photo five years after high school, well that is your business and nobody else's.
You hesitated, not sure you want to talk to him right now. After that night, the only thing you and Hypnos traded was polite, almost cold texts. not your usual meme or lazy chatting about whatever. But something about the picture of Hypnos' sleeping face pushed you to respond.
You swiped the green button.
"You are coming with me." Hypnos said, or rather slurred.
You covered your face,"Hypnos, dude. Are you drunk right now?"
"You- you said you have never seen the ocean right?" Hypnos asked, ignoring your question.
"Where are you? I am coming to get you." You turned on your lamp, looking for a pair of jeans to wear.
"No- no." Hypnos said firmly and very drunkenly. "Y/N, dude. I'm fine. I'm at my shitty apartment." Hypnos paused, "You know, the one where my brother hooked up with Meg. And Zagreus. At the same time. Which is really effing weird for me."
"I - Hypnos-" you tried to think of what to say. The said incident happened over a little month ago and Hypnos had the misfortune of walking in at the wrong time. Which of course because Hypnos got his heart broken by Meg lead up to Hypnos trying to hook up with you to get over her.
"Look, you always said you wanted to see the ocean right?" Hypnos yawned, which you took as a good sign. Hopefully it means your dumb best friend will pass out soon and not ruin his liver for rest of the day.
"Yeah, what of it?" You asked, frustrated at Hypnos for doing this to himself and to you.
"Road trip!" Hypnos dragged out the words with a laugh. "I will be picking you up tomorrow. Love you bestie."
"Hypnos wait no, we can't just leave." You said. You waited for a response, "Hypnos?" You asked worriedly.
A snore came through the phone and you sighed. You turned off the lamp and laid back down, listening to Hypnos' deep breathing.
You stared at the ceiling, and tried not to think about the last time Hypnos got this drunk. Or about that night or how Hypnos acted like nothing happened the next day.
You rolled over to face your phone and closed your eyes.
You will just stay on the line in case Hypnos wakes up.
💤
"You can't be serious, Hypnos." You said as he went through your clothes, uncaring of any boundaries you may have.
But honestly with Hypnos, you had long lost any boundaries. You knew you should actually try to enforce some but you craved just being near him.
"I am! I need to get away for a bit and you told me you were taking a week off right? And it starts today or last night technically." Hypnos held up a lime green shirt and made a face at it.
"Yes for a staycation, I don't have extra money for a motel or anything like that." You replied, and took the shirt away to place it back on its hanger.
"It's my treat, Y/N." Hypnos leaned on you, his head on your shoulder. You tried not to notice how warm he was against you or his big golden puppy dog eyes. "Come on, a free trip away with your best friend aka me aka the best thing ever with your favorite person ever-" Hypnos rambled.
"Fine, only because you said you will pay for everything." You sighed, You hated how hard it was to say no to him.
Hypnos cheered and pulled you into a bear hug. You savored the warmth despite not wanting to.
You just needed a vacation too. To clear your head. And who knows, you and Hypnos could finally get back to being normal.
💤
Hypnos was in the driver's seat as you closed the truck and joined him in the car. A pen dangled from his teeth as his golden eyes flicked across the map. He glanced at you as you strapped in.
"It will be a two days drive if we only stop when we need to. That gives us three days at the beach or wherever else we end up doing." Hypnos took the pen out and marked a couple spots on the map.
"Couldn't we just use our phone GPS?" You asked.
"Nope, the place I'm taking you isn't a normal public beach and we have to drive through some mountains and mountains always win over gps." Hypnos pointed the pen at you. "Always." He said in a mock doom voice.
You rolled your eyes, and with a finger pushed the pen out your face. "Alright but if we get lost in the mountains. I call first dibs on eating you."
"Ha, jokes on you, bestie. I got almost no tender fat on me. So enjoy gnawing on my worthless bones." Hypnos crackled as he started the car. He tossed the map in your lab and peeled out of the driveway.
His deft fingers quickly found some music as Tom Petty sang through the radio.
Hypnos sang along badly. You covered up your smile, it feel good just near him again even if you didn't want to admit it.
Within minutes, Hypnos had weaved into the midmorning traffic. But even with the traffic, you already feel a little lighter.
💤
The first day of the drive went surprisingly well, even with traffic for the first hour. The skies were a vivid blue with fat, lazy clouds that casted shadows across the land.
Hypnos had the windows rolled down, one arm out of the window and music blasting. His shades should have made him look like a frat boy but you actually liked how they looked with his messy white curls and dark red shirt.
You kept your mouth shut and just watched the landscape change from suburbia to the fields dotted with cows and horses.
It was the most peace you had felt in a long while even with the elephant in between you and Hypnos.
It wasn't until twilight had followed you to the motel that the problems started.
"Is that a permanently closed sign?" Hypnos asked flatly, his shades resting on his head.
You nodded, "I had a feeling the trip started a little too well."
You and Hypnos both stared at the sign, the red and white words mocked you.
"I knew google was lying to me." Hypnos murmured.
"We can just sleep in the car, Hypnos." You followed him as he turned back. "We probably shouldn't drive anymore tonight."
Hypnos shook his head, "Nope, we would get murder so fast." He snapped his fingers to make his point. He threw an arm around your shoulders and guided you back to the car. "Come on, I bet there's another place just up ahead."
"And if there is not?" You asked, noticing how easily you fit next to him.
"There will be." Hypnos said confidently.
At your doubtful look, he said cheerfully,
"Or we could just get murder in a much nicer area."
💤
It was almost an hour before you saw the faint vacancy light just peeking behind the trees.
You gasped, "There! Do you see it?"
"Yeah, I see it." Hypnos replied, perking up. The rundown motel looked like someone's idea of what an old western inn looked like without actually never seeing one before.
But after driving for an extra hour and half, it looked like heaven.
Hypnos pulled up in the first empty spot he found which was plenty of.
"Stay here, keep an eye on the car. Don't get murdered." Hypnos said as he locked the car up. He only looked back once as he entered the building.
You slumped in your seat, exhaustion overtaken you. Your phone buzzed in your hand, Zagreus's name popped up.
'Is Hypnos with you??'
You stared down at the text, why is Zagreus asking you?
'Yeah, why?' you replied.
Immediately, Zagreus responded.
'He hasn't responded to any of our texts or calls.'
In a separate text, 'Is he okay? I knew my talk with him was rough but I didn't expect this. '
You bit your lip, just realizing that you haven't heard Hypnos' phone go off all day. Normally, Hypnos' phone was glued in his hand and he was always constantly texting or playing a game.
You looked up, making sure Hypnos was still in the building.
You replied, 'I think he just needs a break. I will let you know if anything happens but maybe just give him some breathing room. Also what talk?'
Three dots appeared and disappeared a few times before Zagreus' response came.
'No, I know. We just wanted to make sure he wasn't alone. Thanks.'
You rubbed your face, unsure what to make of the texts and that Hypnos, a known phone addict, hasn't been on his phone all day. And that Zagreus didn't bother to tell you what 'talk' he had with Hypnos.
You looked back up and saw Hypnos walking back a grin on his face. When your eyes met his, he waved the roomcard and a plastic bag triumphantly.
You pushed your worries aside for now, Hypnos will talk to you when he is ready.
💤
"Uhh, dude. There is only one bed." You said blankly when Hypnos turned the lights on. All the room had was a single hotel bed and a little table with two chairs. The whole area looked like it never left the seventies.
"And a sofa." Hypnos pointed out as he flopped down on it. The sofa creaked loudly as if threatening to snap in half. "I can sleep on anything, remember?"
"If you are sure." You grabbed the plastic bag from the floor as you sat down on the bed.
You dumped the goods on the bed. There was a healthy mix of spicy ramen bowls, candy bars and cans of soda.
You picked out the one you knew Hypnos liked and set on making dinner.
The sofa kept creeking each time Hypnos twitched or even breath. Hypnos' eyes were close but there was a tension to his body that kept him looking truly relaxed.
You debated on telling him that Zagreus had reached out to you but the tight frown on his face kept you from saying anything.
The microwave gave a high pitch beep and you quickly pulled out the ramen and placed the hot bowl on the table. "Hey, Hypnos. Soup on." You told him as you got your bowl ready.
"Oh. Thanks. Wanna have a soda?" Hypnos asked.
You thanked him as you dug into your own dinner and honestly the cheap ramen was the best thing you tasted after not getting lunch during the drive.
Hypnos was unusually quiet during dinner and while getting ready for bed. You couldn't help noticing that Hypnos never once picked up his phone.
Hypnos yawned and sat on the sofa much more carefully yet the beast still creaked in warning.
You sighed, there was no way you or him would sleep with all that creaking.
"Hypnos, just come to bed. I think it's a queen so we got plenty of room." You told him as you got under the covers. You met his gaze, his eyes bright even with the dark circles under them.
"Okay." He agreed softly. He gave you a look that you ignored as he joined you. He turned off the lights. "Good night, Y/N."
You rolled on your side, back facing Hypnos. "Good night." You yawned widely, already halfway to sleep.
💤
You didn't quite wake up all the way, not at first. You blinked at the wall, small cracks in the blinds allowed for small rays of sunlight to break though. It made the motel room feel cozy even with the ugly decor.
There was an arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders and you sank into its hold with a sigh.
Your eyes closed before your brain realized that you could feel another body pressed against your back, legs tangled together.
You snapped awake, your body went rigid and you heard Hypnos grumbled against your nape.
You relaxed, letting out a breath when you remembered Hypnos was in bed with you. Hypnos, during sleepovers when you were children, always ended up clinging on to you.
It was almost nice, a return to a simpler time. Almost.
It was a very different experience when you both were adults. You flushed when Hypnos pressed a little harder against your body, a pleased, sleepy hum rumbled in his chest.
You could feel him pressed against your lower back and damnit, your traitor of a body was responding. You squeezed your eyes shut, flushed from shame and want.
Your mind flashed back to the last time you allowed Hypnos this close.
You could still remember how he pushed you into his dark bedroom and kissed you again and again. How it felt being under him on his bed. How you almost let him have more.
And you knew you wouldn't survive if Hypnos acted just like he did the morning after.
With the small strength you were able to find, you pulled out of his hold or rather you tried to.
His arm went tight and kept you in the bed, "Where are you going so early?" His sleep rough voice mumbled against your skin.
You ignored the goosebumps he caused and you sighed annoyed. "Come on, you're being a jerk. I need to go get ready for the trip."
"Hmm, we drove more than we planned. We still have some time." Hypnos murmured, clearly going back to sleep. You grabbed the blanket with your free arm and yanked it off the both of you.
Hypnos yelped at the sudden cold and let you go. You darted out the bed and grinned at the scowl Hypnos had. You tossed the blanket over his face and walked away. "Early birds get the worm Hypnos!" You called out as you headed to the bathroom.
You bit back a laugh at the loud groan Hypnos made.
💤
After a quick stop for coffee and pancakes with bacon which Hypnos immediately drowned in syrup much to your disgust of the sheer amount of sugar, you were back on the road.
After an hour of staring out the window at patches of woods between the farmlands, you turned to look at Hypnos.
"What is it about this place that made you pick it? I looked at the map, we could get to the ocean quicker if we went along the other route. " You thought for a moment, "And you know, not to have to drive past the mountains."
"Yeah, if you want to see what everyone else sees and deal with the crowds." Hypnos scoffed. He pulled his shades down a bit to look at you, his windblown curls bounced with the movement.
You prayed he didn't notice your blush.
"Also my mom told me about this place a million times. Trust me, it is going to be worth the wait." And with that, Hypnos focused back on driving.
You turned back to the open window, silently hating yourself for still being attracted to him.
"Hey- is that a cow?" Hypnos asked, already slowing down. You looked down the road and saw the animal. You couldn't help the laugh that came out. "Yeah it is."
The stray cow stared down at the car. It was apparently unconcerned about being hit as it chewed on the grass in its mouth.
Hypnos pressed down on the horn repeatedly and long. The cow kept chewing on its bit of grass, blinking slowly.
"Dumb cow. It knows what it is doing." Hypnos muttered.
You laughed again, "I think that is an oxymoron."
Hypnos scowled and waved his hands at the cow whose tongue had found its nose.
"Well, what bright ideas do you have, Y/N?"
You looked into the bag of snacks down by the footrest. And pulled out a bag of barbecue chips.
"I'm going to lure it out of the road, first chance you get, drive past."
Hypnos pulled his shade down, an eyebrow crocked.
You shook the bag at his doubtful look.
Hypnos' eyes narrowed, eyes sharp and calculating. "That won't work."
"Oh?" You raised a brow. "And why not?"
"Those are barbecue chips, I'm pretty sure even that dumb thing know that smell. And when it smells the barbecue, it will just run you over enraged about the chips."
You leaned toward him, "Wanna make a bet?"
He matched your lean, a bright glint in his eyes. "Sure. If I win, you have to agree to everything I say until we get to the hotel."
"Fine." You agreed. "And if I get the cow out of the way, you can only speak in moos until we get to the hotel."
"Deal." He leaned back into his seat. "Easiest win ever."
You scoffed at him as you got out. "Gee, thanks for believing in me."
You stared down the cow who merely blinked at you.
Hypnos poked his head out the window, laughing "Hey Y/N, when it's moving, start running!"
You shushed him and crinkled the bag at the cow. It took a wary step forward and you opened the bag and it took a sniff.
The cow immediately tried to bite the bag but you took several steps and it followed you. You couldn't stop your smirk at Hypnos' outraged face. "Good cow." You cooed. "Good cow."
You took several steps back into the tall grass and dumped the chips on the ground.
The moment the cow started eating the chips on the ground, you took off like a shot and almost fell into your seat. You barely had a chance to close the door before Hypnos drove off.
You pulled your seatbelt on and waited, a huge grin on your face.
When Hypnos refused to say anything or even look at you, you poked him in his cheek.
"Hypnos." You called his name in a sing-songy tone. "I won the bet. Hypnos. Hypnos." You poked him with each word. There was an evil, childish part of you enjoying this too much.
Hypnos batted your hand away. "Moo fucking moo." He replied sourly.
You playfully frowned, "I don't think cows can say fucking."
"Oh my god."
"They don't say that either."
Part Two
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Tickling! Plus Ultra! 5 (End)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
The class of 1-A was quickly transported over to Momo Yaoyorozu’s mansion after both Bakugo and Deku were taken from the villains. They all had bags with their clothes and other items with them, standing in the middle of the foyer awkwardly. Even Momo seemed to be awkwardly standing around, even though this was her house. Sure, he had a few of the students over before, but never in a situation like this. Bakugo was being more distant than usual, not even standing near Kirishima like he usually did. Deku was smiling, but it was strained. Even Kirishima who was usually their spot of light in darkness, seemed to have a cloud over his head.
“Alright, everyone, let’s get everyone settled and…uh…” Momo said, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. She took a deep breath before leading everyone to their rooms.
“We should try and play a game to get everyone’s spirits up before we fall asleep.” Iida said, though the steam had left his voice. All of that running around had really taken the wind out of him.
“I…I think I’m a little too tired for our kinds of games tonight, guys.” Deku said, rubbing at his sides absently. All of the tickling from both their games and…especially since Toga had really done a number on his ticklish nerve endings. He wasn’t exactly ready for another round.
“‘Night.” Bakugo said curtly. He stepped into a room and closed the door behind him. The other students of 1-A heard the lock click and that was about it.
“Guess he’s tired.” Kirishima hummed to himself. He stared at the door a moment longer, wanting to go in and help Kacchan. It couldn’t feel good being attacked and kidnapped so many times by the league of villains. He couldn’t even imagine what those villains must have done and said to him.
“Well, everyone else is going to have to share bedrooms. I’ll take the couch in the main room since Bakugo took a room to himself.” Momo said with a small sigh. Not that she could blame him, but it still wasn’t entirely fair for him to just lock himself in some random house.
“Don’t worry about it, Momo! Since you were so nice to let us stay in your house, I’ll take the couch.” Kirishima said with a charming smile. Momo thought about it for a moment before shrugging. She was absolutely exhausted after making so many things on such a short notice earlier tonight.
“Alrighty then. The rest of you can follow me.” Momo said, waving for the rest of the class to shuffle behind her.
On the couch, Kirishima checked his phone for just about the millionth time. He was waiting for Bakugo to finally tell him that he was alright. A meme. A link to a Youtube channel. Anything. When nothing came across, he decided to put matters into his own hands. In the Bakugo Squad Group chat (Chaos Crew), he decided to share the code for the game that Bakugo couldn’t say no to.
QWTRZ - Among us code.
Kirishima’s red character ran around the lobby as he waited for his friends to join.
A pink character with a flower named SlimePrincess joined.
A yellow character with the dum sticker named ChargeBolt joined.
A white character with the floppy brown hat named 0 joined.
A purple character with a red beanie named EarJackD joined.
Kirishima chewed on his bottom lip as he waited. If they waited much longer, then they would be kicked for inactivity. Damn…Bakugo must really be in a bad mood if he didn’t want to play a game where he could slaughter his friends.
An orange character with an egg on top named ExplosionMrdr joined.
Kirishima smiled at his screen and began the game. The little sprites began running around the map and Kiri’s character stuck with Bakugo’s. He wished that there was a way he could chat with him within the game, but just sticking with him was good enough.
Well, that was until the little orange guy turned around and stabbed him in the back. Kirishima pouted at his screen. Just like Bakugo to kill him first thing in the game.
As a ghost, Kirishima’s character followed Bakugo’s around the map as he jumped in and out of vents and slashed at passersby. It was a short game and an absolute slaughterhouse. The very last crewmate who was left alive as the game ended had been Sero.
The next game, it was Kirishima who was the Imposter. He followed Bakugo around, ready to kill at a moment’s notice. As he did, Bakugo’s character ran to the button and pressed it.
What the hell?
ExplosionMrdr: it’s ****** hair.
SlimePrincess: Proof?
0: Proof?
ChargeBolt: Where?
EarJackD: No one died, Denki.
EarJackD: Kinda sus.
ExplosionMrdr: u idiots its literally **** hair
ExplosionMrdr voted.
0: Anyone wanna follow me to Medbay? I gotta get scanned.
RedR10t: Ill go with u
ChargeBolt: How do I vent like pink did?
EarJackD: im voting denki. Sus af.
EarJackD voted.
ChargeBolt voted.
RedR10t voted.
SlimePrincess voted.
0 voted.
No One was Ejected. (1) Imposter remains.
The game continued. Kirishima followed Bakugo again, but this time decided to turn off the lights and then kill Bakugo’s character in front of the medbay. No one saw because of the lowered lights.
There was a frustrated yell that the entire mansion could hear. Bakugo stormed out of his room and the sound of his pounding footsteps grew louder and louder. Kirishima stared at his phone screen as he heard his impending doom get closer and closer to him.
Bakugo grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to his feet.
“Is it you? Are you the imposter?” Bakugo yelled in his face.
Wait, what?
“U-uh, it’s just a game, dude and I didn’t mean to kill you–” Kirishima stammered. This was definitely not the reaction he had wanted. Sure, the frustrated scream and the storming out of the room was something he wanted, but this seemed like something more.
“Did you sell us out, shitty hair? Did you tell that stupid group of low lives what we were up to?” Bakugo yelled, almost as if he didn’t even hear anything that Kirishima had said.
“Dude, what are you talking about?” Kirishima asked, putting his hand on Bakugo’s wrist. It was a small gesture, but Bakugo retracted his hand. Bakugo ran his hands through his hair in stress.
“Just fucking tell me if it’s you. You can’t keep lying to my fucking face.” Bakugo continued, his voice trembling. Small sounds of footsteps could be heard as the others in the class peeked out of their rooms to see what all of the commotion was about. Kirishima frowned and took Bakugo’s wrist and led him into a different room.
“Alright, dude. What is going on? I’m sorry for killing you in the game, but this is a little much.” Kirishima said. He reached out and placed a hand on Bakugo’s shoulder, but he pulled away.
“There’s someone here, shitty hair. Someone here that could have sold us out. Could still be selling us out! It could be you for all I fucking know!” Bakugo yelled, pointing an accusatory finger in Kirishima’s direction.
The red head sighed, a look of pity crossing his face. Whatever those villains had said to him…they made him think that there was some kind of traitor among the UA students. With how many times they had been caught and Bakugo had been kidnapped…it would make sense to a degree.
“Kacchan…look at me.” Kirishima said, stepping closer to Bakugo.
“Don’t get close to me!” Bakugo said, flinching away from his friend. He looked away from the red head, his body shaking all over. Kirishima took the risk of getting burned and wrapped his arms around Bakugo, hugging him as tightly as he could.
“Katuski…please. Take a deep breath, man.” Kirishima said softly.
Ever so slowly, Bakugo melted into the embrace. He wrapped his arms around Kirishima’s waist and buried his head in Kirishima’s neck.
“That bastard…whoever it is in this dumbass class…I’ll kill them.” Bakugo grumbled. Kirishima shook his head, squeezing Bakugo closer to him.
Having been taken hostage so many times has really gotten to him. After being beaten around and taken away from his friends so many times, it was perfectly reasonable that some trust issues towards his friends would start to surface.
“None of us would do that to you, man. Seriously. You may be loud and obnoxious, but everyone in this class thinks of you as a friend.” Kirishima said, resting his hand on the back of Bakugo’s head. He could feel something wet against the shoulder of his shirt and he just knew that Bakugo was…crying. It broke his heart.
“There’s…someone here, Kiri. They’re going to take us down from the inside. It’s so damn stupid.” Bakugo wheezed, clawing at the back of Kirishima’s shirt. Kirishima sighed heavily, feeling tears of his own in his eyes as he held his friend. It really broke his heart to see Kacchan like this. This hurt.
“No one is out to get you, Bakugo. Even if they are, I-I’ll protect you, okay?” Kirishima told him. He meant every word of it too. He pat his hand against Bakugo’s back and pulled away ever so slightly.
“Come on, let’s go to bed, okay?” He said.
Bakugo pulled away and wiped his face wildly with his shirt.
“Whatever. Yeah, sure. You should probably sleep in a bed, dumbass.” He grumbled and turned to walk back up to the room that he had stormed out of. Kirishima sniffled and wiped his own tears from his face. He snatched up his phone and his bag of stuff as he walked up to the bedroom. Once inside, Bakugo threw himself on the bed with very little grace. Kirishima set his stuff down on a nearby bedside and crawled into the bed as well. Once he did, Bakugo slowly pulled himself by Kirishima’s side. He rested his head on Kirishima’s shoulder, threw an arm around his waist, and tangled their legs together. Kirishima couldn’t help but smile as the blonde got himself comfortable.
“Despite everything, I’m glad the class got to know your special weakness. Now I can tickle you out in the open,” Kirishima said, sliding his fingertips up and down Bakugo’s back. Bakugo squirmed slightly, but he didn’t remove himself from Kirishima’s side.
“Bet your ass that I’ll kill you tomorrow. You won’t escape my wrath.” Bakugo grumbled, pushing his face further against Kirishima’s shoulder.
“Plus ultra?” Kirishima teased and tweaked a couple of Bakugo’s ribs.
“Pluhus Ultra.” Bakugo chuckled.
Kirishima hummed softly and pressed his lips against the top of Bakugo’s head in a soft kiss.
“Shut up and go to sleep, shitty hair.” Bakugo said. Kirishima let his fingers drag up and down Bakugo’s back just a few strokes longer before he slowly drifted off to sleep.
12/25
-Ga!babe
#25 Days of Fics#GA!babe#submission#Tickling Plus Ultra#12/25#a lil bit of among us in there#some traitor/imposter angst#NICE#still love that horikoshi just forgot that completely#that's the end of the my hero fics for this baby!#nicely done babe always love your writing#and the bakusquad is just so good#and now I'm caught up enjoy the double post since I suuuuuuuuck
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Rating the letters of the alphabet
I feel like part of my style of comedy is just rambling about shit and making loose connections between things as part of an overall bit. I think. I’m no expert on myself, unfortunately.
The inspiration for the following absolute load of shite is trying to search Tiermaker for nothing. Like, no characters in the search bar. Didn’t come up with anything. Did a search for just a space. No dice. What about just a? Surely that’ll bring up everything with an A in the title. But it didn’t, and I was somewhat disappointed.
Then my head started writing bits about letters and that’s how we got here. This is probably really stupid, but maybe it’ll at least be fun. Wordplay is cool, though maybe not my strong suit? Anyway.
A: A is one of the two letters that’s also just a word, as you’ve just seen, giving it a necessary promotion in rank. Not a lot of things get to double up like that, though with the “an” ligature maybe it’s actually a double or nothing. But because of the confusing common connection crossing contexts for the character, it gets somewhat awkward to talk about the letter in conversation. An A, in my opinion, A does not get. 4/5.
B: B is also just a word letter but unlike A when you write it out you have to stick a few extra letters on to make it work, making it not as good. But B’s association with bees isn’t enough, because in the year of our lord, like, 2019 or something, it would become inextrixably linked with shite memes as the B emoji became king. And I just don’t respect that. It’s otherwise a fine letter, dragged down by its company. 2/5.
C: Oh come on now, the word doesn’t even have a C in it anymore! You can sea the see without any of our tertiary letter’s involvement whatsoever. Not to mention how its two main sounds are just copies from other letters wholesale. C must be confusing to non-english speakers, I’d imagine. C as a grade gets what C as a grade typically entails for many a schoolchild. 3/5.
D: It would be remiss of me not to give a sterling grade to the D. Why, none of us would be here without it. While many a youth may find the D to be quite a humourous subject, I assure you I’m taking it with the gravest of sincerity when I say the D has got to be one of the best letters of all.
And by D I mean deity, of course. Wait, what did you think I meant? 5/5.
E: The absolute absurdity that is the E meme elevates E efficiently enough to excel beyond many another vowel. However, it is also the single most common letter in the English language, going so far as to open the damn name. It’s to the point where someone made a point of writing an entire book without using it, and I think Gadsby is cool but mayhaps avoiding fifth uncial was a bit showy. I can’t help but mark it down for the sake of hipster cred. 3/5.
F: F is for Fuck. I like the word Fuck. F is for paying respects. I think the military-industrial complex has poisoned our cultural landscape to the point that a reference to one of its most prized productions’ awkward moments has become one of the most colloquially used meme letters in existence, And That’s Terrible. 3/5, I’m conflicted.
G: Man literally who the fuck cares about G. What is it even good for. Just an absolute waste of a letter, total shithouse. It’s NATO equivalent is Golf, the Worst Sport, too. Who asked for any of this? Just use a J instead, it’s cooler. 1/5.
H: I’ve seen “Hhh” used enough times in written forms of pornography to not consider it a Horny Letter. That and it, being short for Hentai, is often used to denote adult material in Japan. Basically what im saying is, I think this gets worse the less sex-positive you are. 6/9.
I: I think I’ve said enough about letter words already, but I is another high-tier one because like A I is just it’s own thing. It can also, however, be a bit confusing, looking just like an l a lot of the time, and having to constantly capitalise it is a pain in the ass. I also don’t have a particularly high opinion of myself, so a high opinion of I seems disingenuous. 3/5.
J: Clearly the best letter, hands down. I’m definitely not biased. There are so few letters as underappreciated by J- a fact many a person who’s had to do that “assign yourself an alliterative adjective” icebreaker game has had to reckon with. Because it appears to be a lot more popular with names than with words, and that just kind of sucks. 6/5.
K: K has in some circles managed to bump off its partner to become yet another letter word, though in a very informal abbreviated sense. However, when you’re looking into scientific fields, eventually said partner returns, having lost some weight on the trip down to absolute zero. This all makes complete sense in my head, and I’m sure is a lot less funny to anyone who doesn’t live there. 4/5.
L: I’d argue that L doesn’t cop its namesake. It’s a really useful letter, loads of words use it, especially in pairs, and my ADHD-brain thought it was fun to just say LLLLLLLLLLL for a bit while I was thinking about this so I guess that’s staying in now. Put me down as an L Lobbyist. 4/5.
M: Mmmmmm. M&Ms. But also it’s kind of a pain to write. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. 3/5.
N: I’d like to fight whoever decided we should have two letters that sound so similar right bloody next to each other in the alphabet. Actually, who the fuck even decided the alphabet’s order to begin with? Maybe it should go M to N, that’ll bloody show you. 2/5.
O: Our fourth vowel, and perhaps one of the underappreciated ones. O is similarly a letter word, but a much more common one considering its use as an interjection. It’s also one half of a very powerful letter combo, as we’ll see. 4/5.
P: There’s the other half. Many a joke involves OP as a phrase, whether it mean overpowered or original poster, and the letters’ adjacency is a lovely bit of serendipity. Whenever I say P out loud, on its own, I have to resist the urge to do some incredibly shitty beatboxing, which may or may not be a good sign. 4/5.
Q: I was going to write some very harsh words about Q, and its dependency on U, but then I realised that that is probably hate speech against the disabled. It still sucks, though. 0/5.
R: R is the one I am most struggling to think of things to say about. R is another letter that’s just kinda there. I’m sure the Roberts and Rachels of the world would disagree with me, though. It’s also the name of a program that I know has traumatised a lot of young biologist wannabes, slapping us with a whole pile of maths and statistics when we just wanted to look at cool plants and shit. Or in my case, cool cells and shit. 2/5.
S: The most overrated consonant, but also the thing that makes plurals not a pain in the ass. However I’m going to lean towards giving S a positive rating, if only because it’s associated with snakesssss (and serpentine characters who can talk) and I like those. 3/5.
T: I don’t think T gets enough credit as one of the pillars of the English language. A lot of very common words feature it, and yet it feels like it never gets the same level of credit as big shots like S or half of the vowels. T is like the character actor of the alphabet, is basically what I’m saying. 4/5.
U: Ah, the letter Americans hate for some reason. I think this is actually commentary on the history of American politics. Because throughout history, America has been extremely selfish and self-centered, while attempting to present a positive image that people are finally seeing past. They only entered WWI and WWII when it was convenient for them, they started wars and initiated coups in even their allies for petty ideological reasons, and they’ve gone to war with several countries and funded wars with several others seeming just for shits and giggles. Because apparently if you’re not an American, then you’re not one of them, and that means they hate U. 4/5.
V: I actually think V is underrated. It’s a fun sound. That’s it, no joke here. It’s neat, I like it. 4/5.
W: This may come as a shock to you, but double-u over here is actually two Vs! unless you’re writing in cursive, but fuck cursive. The French actually have it right on this one, naming it double-v (pronounced doobleh-vay). Add in the fact that it’s literally just M upside down, and you’ve got a pretty shite letter. 1/5.
X: There’s a reason literally every “A is for Apple” thing you see made for kids uses Xylophone for X, and that’s because there are no commonly used words that start with it. Seriously, it’s all just scientific terms- I’d argue X-Ray is more common than Xylophone in common parlance, but also, who wants to explain imaging to a kid. It doesn’t even get a second page of words on Dictionary.com. X also has implications as a letter word, that I’d rather avoid at the moment. 2/5.
Y: Ah, Ygreck, everyone’s favourite “what the fuck, France?” moment. Between that and being sorta kinda not really a vowel, Y prompts its own question more often than I’d care to admit. 2/5.
Z: As a (technical) member of the generation associated with this letter- on the one hand, I’m sorry, on the other, y’all have it coming. The final letter of the alphabet, one of the other ones worth 10 in scrabble (and yet X isn’t???), and one we probably got pretty sick of in the early 00s when it was everywhere- ironically, when most of the generation was getting born. 2/5.
And that’s the lot of them. I hope this didn’t alienate any non-English speakers too hard. It’s probably fine.
Join me for more bullshit next time I have another stupid idea. I mean, tomorrow.
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Day 24: Murderstuck
https://homestuck.com/story/3297
This is one of my single favorite flashes.
I wonder if Sacrificial Slabs are Paradox Space’s way of rewarding players who have an indomitable will to prevail, to the extent that they are completely prepared to either to live or to die to fulfill their true will.
Aradia certainly bore the Burden of Time - of death, and endings, and inevitability - on behalf of her teammates to its absolute conclusion. Vriska may have struck the final blow, and Gamzee may have done the absolute largest single blow of damage to the King, but I’m inclined to say that Aradia is the real MVP.
Of course, sometimes, power is just meaningless, and characters stumble ass-backwards into it, or are deliberately manipulated into it by nefarious actors, but part of me likes to imagine that P-Space itself, to whatever extent it is an actor, tends to push those who have the Right Stuff to become gods, rewards strength of mettle and character, for good or ill.
That is to say, it rewards the sort of people who are probably already going to die a Heroic or Just death, not the sort to be ignominiously murdered. Of course, the vast majority of characters who God Tier in Homestuck are ignominiously murdered and become Gods purely because they are manipulated or maneuvered into it by someone else. So maybe the real moral of the story is that Power Has No Spiritual Significance.
More after the break.
https://homestuck.com/story/3306
Act 5 spends a lot of time writing checks that won’t be cashed until the very end of the comic, with an enormous gap between the setup and the payoff. A lot of this stuff is completely irrelevant until about the last 100 pages of the comic, mechanically, but thematically, it exposits on some of the central themes of Homestuck by making the mechanics parallel to the themes, I think.
https://homestuck.com/story/3315
Taking note of this - Ectobiology is dependent on the force of destiny in Homestuck. Things have a canonical future.
Non-canonical outcomes are rendered irrelevant when they are doomed.
https://homestuck.com/story/3320
This is actually starting to become a running theme on closer examination - experiences like Godhood, and Lunar Awakening, which are clearly telegraphed as being intentionally spiritual experiences have their spirituality sabotaged in almost all cases by some nefarious influence.
So maybe in keeping with its general criticism of narratives and character arcs and attempts to categorize the human experience, the deconstruction of the universe mechanics that it has built up are part of the way that Homestuck criticizes cultural narratives.
https://homestuck.com/story/3321
It occurs to me that unlike the entire rest of Homestuck, characters in these walkarounds are able to talk to each other unmediated - at least, the trolls are. I’m not sure if the kids ever do, but probably not.
The Trolls’ set up lends itself to the interpretation of computers and mediated communication as basically alienating in the Homestuck setting. The meteor computer room creates a setting where the most pain free way of engaging with each other is still pretty much through text, and with the exception of the sparse conversations the characters have like this, I don’t think it’s likely that they talk much once they’re on the meteor.
Karkat and Terezi’s short fling is extremely defining for both of them as the real romantic leads amongst the trolls, in a sort of ass backwards sense. They don’t get together in the end, but by the end of the comic, with the exception of Dave for Karkat, and Vriska for Terezi, they really do seem like they are the most important people in each other’s lives.
https://homestuck.com/story/3355
Doc Scratch and Lord English’s memes really are forced memes - something that they make A Thing practically by orchestrating events in order to make them A Thing. They’re empty signifiers, self-referential phrases and images that symbolize nothing except for themselves, emblematic of Lord English’s hegemony. Like Caliborn’s fixation on red herrings and shitty twists.
https://homestuck.com/story/3365
One half of Terezi’s facade is broken - she obviously can’t stand to look death in the face once it’s someone that she knows. But she’s still pretty attached to her whole vigilante schtick. It’s all she knows.
https://homestuck.com/story/3438
I think it’s fascinating that Nepeta ships Tavros with Dave considering the parallels between them. It’s implied that Nepeta has contacted Dave at least some, and as the Rogue of Heart, maybe she’s picked up on those parallels.
And as long as we’re discussing Dave, let’s discuss Gamzee and Equius who are both trolls associated with Dave in terms of which humans they have important interactions with.
Equius and Gamzee are, to some extent or another, both parodies of Dave, through their unhealthy relationship with cultural fixtures and figures, and their physical struggle, I think, corresponds to Dave’s internal struggle with starting to question his idolization of Bro and his own indoctrination into the sort of miniaturized death cult represented by Bro’s toxic influence.
What I’m saying here, I guess, is that if we view Gamzee’s religiosity as corresponding to Dave’s Hero Worship, and we view Equius as a parody of Dave, what we can read out of murderstuck is this;
If Dave attempts to live up to his Bro’s ideals of manhood, it will strangle the best parts of him to death.
https://homestuck.com/story/3465
This seems a fine place to pause. We’ll get into John and Vriska’s feelings jam tomorrow.
I beat the Four Kings solo on NG+ today. I’m probably going to spend the rest of my shift, between chats, finishing that playthrough. I may be a Homestuck theorist, but my more impressive credential is that I have, in fact, beaten Dark Souls.
For now, Cam signing off, Alive, and feeling like Hot Shit.
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Tumblr – Colby Brock x Reader
Tumblr is…a mixed bag. You’d made some of your closest internet friends on this poorly run website, but you’d also received more than your share of crazy fangirl hate. What’s crazy though, is how easy it is to make friends in the Sam and Colby fandom on Tumblr. 99% of everyone you’ve met is super nice and the group kind of shuts down the haters pretty quickly.
This last round of drama kind of wore everyone down. It all started with a hate anon that your friend DaddyDobrock received. “If Sam and Colby saw half of what you guys wrote on here they wouldn’t want you as fans 🙄.” She handled it well. She laughed and told the anon to lighten up and fuck off. You guys were pretty used to petty hate anons and rarely answer them, but boy was this asshole persistent.
Absolute-randomness-forever replied to a similar message with “If you don’t like what we post, don’t follow us?” Again, not really feeding into any drama.
Sp00kybrock got one trying to get her opinion on the whole thing. “Don’t you think most of the Sam and Colby tumblr fandom is toxic? Like, I bet Colby would cringe so hard if he went on this site. 🙄” She defended her friends, laughing it off. “My friends and I aren’t toxic. We post memes and joke around, but we support the boys 100%.”
Jakeywebber commented on a few of the new posts. “Does this person even watch the boys? They obviously don’t know that their sense of humor is exactly like ours.”
The anons continued to come in, a few other people getting them but not replying. They always ended with 🙄. The problem with one toxic anon is that they attract others that want to feed into the drama, and soon the hate is taken too far.
Someone got an anon telling them to kill themselves. Eye rolling emoji included. The blog posted the anon with no comment other than “deleting now” and went offline. To say that the rest of you were up in arms is an understatement. Lightenupbrock, that-one-brock-boy, badassbrock, the-sun-is-dark, colbyjacksmack, rewindfridaynight, xplr-lurker, brockboytrashz…you all jumped in and defended your friend. You sent them messages making sure they were okay, trying to convince them not to delete.
*Twitter notification*
Colby Brock Tweeted : “FYI we see more than you think we see. Don’t pretend to be our fan and then treat other fans like shit. Especially anonymously. 🙄”
Daddydobrock posted “Anyone else see this?” with a screenshot of the tweet.
A few of the others reblogged it, adding comments. By the end of the thread, your group of friends was convinced that Colby either had a tumblr or occasionally lurked on it.
*tumblr messages*
Xplr-lurker : Hey, have you heard from the girl that got the kys anon?
You and Xplr-lurker had been tumblr friends for about 6 months. They messaged you after they saw how you interacted with the other blogs. You were always helpful, kind, encouraging…You had a reputation for being a sweetheart and Xplr-lurker had messaged you thanking you for it. You two became friends pretty quickly, asking how each other’s days went and such. Neither of you ever really posted your personal info on your blogs, but you knew a bit about each other. You both lived in Cali, you were about the same age, and you loved sending each other super emo tumblr posts when you were bored. Usually hella late at night. He knew you were a girl and you knew he was a guy. Other personal details kind of trickled through in your everyday interactions.
Y/n : Yeah. She doesn’t want to be online for a while, but she isn’t going to delete her blog. I gave her my phone number just in case she needed to talk.
Xplr-lurker : I figured you would 😊 I’m glad she’s okay.
Y/n : Me too.
Y/n : Hey, did you see Colby’s tweet? I think he saw all of this go down. I mean, maybe I’m just assuming too much, but he ended a tweet about anon hate with that stupid eye roll emoji just like the anon does.
Xplr-lurker : I mean, he said he checks his dms all the time. Maybe someone sent it to him?
Y/n : Maybe.
Y/n : Honestly, I’m just as mad for him and Sam as I am for the girl. How shitty is it that they have to watch the people who call themselves fans treat other fans like garbage? And they can’t do a thing about it.
Xplr-lurker : That sounds like it would suck.
Y/n : Right?
You had written a whole big post about how hypocritical it was for this toxic anon to accuse everyone else of being bad for the fandom when they were so willing to go out of their way to harm other fans. You reminded them about the videos Sam and Colby used to post about being confident and helping others. Their entire YouTube career started with them making videos wanting to help people. Just like every other post, you signed it with two black heart emojis. 🖤🖤
You had continued talking to xplr-lurker as you wrote the post. Venting a little bit about how frustrated you were.
*Twitter notification*
Colby Brock Tweeted : “Don’t worry, we know there are amazing fans out there, too. 🖤🖤”
Y/n : Dude. I think I’m paranoid, now.
Xplr-lurker : What do you mean?
Y/n : Nothing. I’m exhausted. I just need sleep, lol. You do too, nerd. You said you needed to be up by 9 and it’s already 4am.
Xplr-lurker : Holy shit, my friend is going to kill me if I’m falling asleep tomorrow, haha.
Y/n : Haha, good luck! I’ll talk to you later.
Xplr-lurker : Thanks. Sweet dreams.
See, it’s pretty common for social media influencers to have secret accounts. It gives them a way to like posts and follow fans without starting drama. After collabing with CrankThatFrank, Colby was convinced to make a tumblr. He picked Xplr-lurker so that it made sense for him to interact with his own fans. He mostly just reblogged cool edits and funny traphouse memes. He’d comment on funny posts and throw his two cents in on theories and gossip. For the most part, it was kind of fun. People on tumblr were brutally honest but fucking hilarious. He never planned on talking about tumblr or letting anyone he interacted with on tumblr know that he was behind the username…but then he found your blog. He’d contemplated telling you for a few weeks now. The two of you talked almost every night and he felt bad. He felt like he was lying to you.
He’d first messaged you just to say a quick thanks for being so positive in the fandom, but the more he talked to you the more he kept wanting to talk to you.
The 🙄 anon stopped sending people messages after Colby’s tweet. Your friends on tumblr were able to go back to posting ridiculous screenshots and cool photo edits over the next week or so. You’d reblogged a gif of Colby about to lose his shorts on a waterslide with the caption “I feel like Elton has been trying to get Colby naked in vlogs since the start of TFIL”.
Xplr-lurker : *sent waterslide post*
Xplr-lurker : This is a fat fact. Lol.
Y/n : Right? Hahahahaha
Xplr-lurker : I think he does it for views.
Y/n : Probably. It’s the same reason Colby gets shirtless in his own videos. He knows people will click the thumbnail, haha.
Colby sat on his balcony laughing. You were absolutely right.
Xplr-lurker : Is that why you clicked?
Y/n : Haha, nah. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a beautiful human being. You’d have to be blind not to see that. But I found Colby through TFIL.
Xplr-lurker : What made you keep watching him then?
Colby felt bad for baiting you out, but his curiosity got the better of him. As far as you knew, he was just another fan. This is when he’d get your most honest answer.
Y/n : A lot. First, he’s a huge goofball. Watching him and his friends do dumb shit to make each other laugh is the best.
Y/n : And everything him and Sam have done together? Those two dudes are fearless. They just remind me that I’m the only one holding myself back, you know? One day I’ll actually get out of my own way and make something of myself.
Y/n : He also seems super genuine. He never seems afraid to speak his mind or call something like it is. It actually bums me out watching some of his “friends”, If you know what I mean. I know that not everything they put out there is 100% accurate to how they actually are in real life, but I hate that slimy feeling I get knowing that a lot of them use Sam and Colby and don’t actually give a shit.
Y/n : I know I sound like a massive fangirl at this point, haha. I think I just needed to get that off my chest.
Colby sat there trying to figure out how to respond. He had a huge grin on his face seeing you spill your guts like you did.
Xplr-lurker : Haha, don’t worry about it. You just sound like you care. That’s not a bad thing.
Over the next few weeks, you guys continued to talk like normal, but it got a little more personal. He wanted to be able to call you a friend, but he was still afraid to tell you who he actually was. You two talked more about your passions and the things you struggle with. You’d always sent each other music to check out, but he’d confessed that he’d been dabbling in trying to write lyrics. He needed to find a way to talk to you as COLBY and not xplr-lurker.
*Twitter notification*
Colby Brock Tweeted : “You feel so close but in reality I’m sitting here on my balcony alone.”
One of your tumblr friends had screenshot the tweet, adding the caption “This is how it feels to have better friends on the internet than in real life.”
You reblogged it and tagged xplr-lurker. You added “I wouldn’t trade our late-night talks for the world.”
Xplr-lurker : *sent tagged post*
Xplr-lurker : Yeah?
Y/n : Duh. You know that.
Xplr-lurker : Same.
Colby sat there, his fingers hovering over the keyboard on his phone.
*Twitter notification*
Colby Brock Tweeted : “1 like = 1 ‘don’t be a pussy’ whispered in my ear.”
Xplr-lurker : Not to sound like a creepy internet person, but have you ever met any of your internet friends in real life?
Y/n : Haha, I don’t think you’re creepy. And yes! I’ve met a few of them. Why?
Xplr-lurker : I know we live in the same city and I’ve always wondered if you’d want to get coffee or something.
Y/n : That would mean that you’d get to see how awkward and clumsy I am in real life. I don’t know if I’m willing to put you through that, hahaha.
Colby laughed. That response was better than the “fuck off, creeper” he expected.
Xplr-lurker : Oh, shut up. You’d be the one dealing with me being awkward.
Y/n : Suuuuuuure. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.
Y/n : I’m actually walking home from my favorite coffee shop right now, haha. It’s called 101. They’re open until 3 am and they have the best food.
Xplr-lurker : WHY ARE YOU WALKING ALONE SO LATE AT NIGHT?!
It was well past 2am and the thought of you walking the streets of LA by yourself kind of had Colby on edge.
Y/n : I live like 5 minutes away. Don’t worry.
Colby pulled up 101 Coffee Shop on his phone. It was less than a 10 minute drive from his apartment. *We actually live pretty close* he thought, switching back to the tumblr app.
Xplr-lurker : Tell me when you make it home safe. LA is scary at night.
Xplr-lurker : Also, that coffee shop is not far from me. If you ever want to meet up there, I’m down.
Y/n : I just walked in my front door. Stop worrying, mom.
Y/n : And I’ll be headed back there tomorrow around midnight. My roommate’s boyfriend is obnoxious and he comes over every night around then. I usually hang out at the coffee shop and work on stuff on my laptop for a few hours.
Xplr-lurker : I’m glad you’re safe. I’ll definitely try to make it there tomorrow.
Y/n : I’ll be the one with the messy bun, laptop, and baggy Y&R hoodie, lol.
Xplr-lurker : If I don’t chicken out, I’ll wear an XPLR hoodie.
Y/n : Well I need to go to sleep. If I don’t see you tomorrow, I’m sure I’ll still talk to you on here.
Xplr-lurker : For sure! Have a good night!
Y/n : You too. 🖤🖤
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.” Colby said, sighing. This was it. He was either going to walk into that coffee shop and blow his cover or he was going to chicken out like a little bitch.
The whole next day he had a hard time paying attention to anything or anyone. He was too busy trying to figure out the best way to tell you who he was.
“Colby!” Sam laughed, waving his hand in front of his friend’s face.
“What? Sorry.” Colby said, shaking his head and turning towards Sam.
“You okay?” Sam asked. Colby just stared at him for a minute. “I’m going to take that as a no?”
“I’m not, not okay.” Colby answered, sounding cryptic.
“Okaaaayyy.” Sam said slowly. “Care to explain?”
“I’m just nervous to meet up with someone later.” Colby tried to sound casual. “It’s nothing big. I’m just anxious, I guess.”
“Who?” Sam asked.
“A girl I met online.” Colby said, waiting for Sam to tease him.
Sam furrowed his brows. “Like on a dating app?”
“No.” Colby shook his head. “She’s a fan.”
Sam made a confused face. “Not to make it sound like I think you’re stupid, but are you being catfished again?” He laughed.
Colby couldn’t help but crack a smile, hiding his face behind his hands. “No, actually. I don’t even know what this girl looks like.”
“What?!” Sam asked, confused.
“That’s not the weirdest part.” Colby said, peeking through his fingers at his best friend. “She doesn’t know I’m me.”
“Is this for a video or something?” Sam asked, not understanding at all what was going on.
“Nope. I made an account to interact with fans and we just kind of clicked.” Colby tried explaining. “We’ve been friends for like 6 months, but we only ever talk through our usernames. The more I say this out loud the crazier it sounds.” Colby laughed.
“Sooooo, you’ve never seen a picture of her?” Sam asked.
“Nope. Not for sure. I THINK I found her personal blog, but I could be wrong.” Colby answered. “I only know her name because it’s in her profile, but she’s never asked me mine.”
“Is she going to be mad?” Sam asked, trying to wrap his head around the whole thing.
“That’s kind of why I’m so nervous.” Colby said, biting his lip. “She told me where she’s going to be tomorrow night and I don’t know if I should just show up or if I should rip the band-aid off and tell her who I am in our dms before we’re supposed to meet up.”
Sam had a blank stare on his face. “I honestly have no idea how to help you.”
“Don’t feel bad. I don’t know how to help myself.” Colby laughed.
“Tell me how it goes?” Sam asked.
“Of course.” Colby nodded, zoning out again.
At around 11:30pm you’d walked to the coffee shop. You ordered a drink and your late dinner and sat down in the corner booth. You worked on some things you were currently writing and gone through and caught up with your emails. At about 1am, you’d convinced yourself your tumblr friend had chickened out.
Right around 12:30am, Colby was stood in front of the coffee shop he was supposed to meet you at. There were only a few people currently in the shop, so it was pretty easy to figure out which one was you. He’d taken a deep breath and walked through the door, darting to the counter when he started to panic. With his back to you, he ordered a coffee. *I don’t even like coffee* he thought to himself. He kept peeking at you from the pick-up counter while he waited for his order. You had headphones in your ears, mouthing the lyrics to whatever song you were listening to. When the barista called out his name, he grabbed his coffee and left the shop.
Xplr-lurker : I’m stuck.
Xplr-lurker : You’re normally the person I go to for advice, but I feel like it’s unfair to put this one on you.
Xplr-lurker : You’re beautiful, btw.
You looked up from your computer, searching for your friend.
Y/n : Thank you? Are you here?
Xplr-lurker : I was. I chickened out. I kind of panicked.
Y/n : Aww, I promise you have no reason to panic. So why are you stuck? I’m always here to listen and give advice when I think I can help. You know that.
Colby sighed, sitting in his car.
Xplr-lurker : I guess it’s better just to come out with it.
Xplr-lurker : My name is Colby.
You waited a few seconds for further explanation.
Y/n : Okay? I don’t get it.
Xplr-lurker : Like, I am Colby Brock. I made this account to interact with fans.
Y/n : Please tell me you’re just fucking with me as a friend and not a delusional fanboy that’s trying to actually convince me he’s someone he’s not.
*Great* you thought to yourself. Not only did you have to walk home at night by yourself in LA, now you had to keep an eye out for a crazy person who wanted you to believe they were Colby. You thought this person was your friend and now you were afraid to leave the coffee shop.
Xplr-lurker : Neither? I know I fucked up by not telling you sooner.
Y/n : Well, since whoever is on the other end of this message knows I’m here alone, I’m going to call my roommate to pick me up. You know, you were really cool. You were my favorite person to talk to. This really sucks. You didn’t have to be anyone but yourself.
When Colby tried to reply to your message, the chat said that he had been blocked. “Oh, fuck.” He said, jumping back out of his car. When he got to the door of the coffee shop, he could see that you were packing up your stuff.
“Y/n!” he called from the door, walking towards your booth.
Your eyes flew towards the boy walking in your direction, your hands frozen holding your laptop.
Colby slowly slid into the other side of the booth you were sitting in, putting his phone down with the tumblr app open. “I’m so sorry.”
“What the fuck?” you whispered, still not moving.
“You have every right to be mad at me and I swear I never meant to freak you out. I didn’t really think it through when I told you who I was. Is your roommate coming?” He asked, talking so fast you could barely process what he was saying.
You sat your laptop down and grabbed his phone. “My roommate wouldn’t come pick me up even if I did call her.” You said, looking at the tumblr app on Colby’s phone. You were the only person he had messaged.
“You were going to walk?” Colby asked, grabbing his phone when you handed it back to him.
“I was going to order an Uber.” You laughed. “This is crazy. You’re crazy.”
“Are you mad?” Colby’s face was apprehensive, waiting for you to tell him to fuck off.
“A little.” You nodded, laughing. “You asked me questions about yourself! I fangirled to you about you!” You remembered, covering your now blushing cheeks with your hands, hiding your face.
He laughed. “I feel the need to say this in person…You’re beautiful.” He watched as you peeked over your fingers. “And I’m the one that should be embarrassed about that, not you.”
“Why did you ask me to meet if you didn’t want me to know who you were?” You asked, remembering that this whole thing was his idea.
He laughed, reaching to grab one of your hands. “I’ve been trying to nut up and tell you who I am for over a month.”
“Why me? You didn’t even know what I looked like?” You were still trying to take in the fact that Colby Brock was sitting here in your favorite coffee shop holding your hand.
“I didn’t really care what you looked like. You’ve been a great friend to me since we first started talking and I was just some random person you met online…That has nothing to do with how someone looks.” He explained, blushing before continuing. “The fact that you’re also adorable is just an added bonus.”
You laughed, pulling your hand out of his so you could re-do your messy bun that was currently falling. “This is crazy. I want to re-read everything I’ve ever sent to you to make sure I didn’t make a complete fool out of myself.”
“Y/n.” Colby laughed. “You didn’t. I promise. There’s not a single thing you’ve told me that I don’t like.”
You stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out what the hell you were supposed to do now. “I have one question.” You said, leaning your elbows on the table.
“Ask away.” He answered, leaning forward the same way you were.
“What’s the REAL reason Elton always tries to get you naked in his vlogs?” You smirked, hearing Colby bust a gut laughing.
“Honestly, I’ve questioned it myself. The only answer that keeps me sane is clickbait.” He shook his head. “So, we’re good?” he asked.
“I mean, I don’t know WHAT we are, but I hope it isn’t bad.” You laughed.
“Well, we’ve been friends for over 6 months. I’d like to still claim that even though you know now that I’ve been a dumbass this entire time.” He smiled.
“I think I can deal with that.” You smiled back at him.
“Should I push my luck and ask you if I can buy you another coffee?” He asked, a shy look on his face. “I think coffee is disgusting, but I hear coffee shops make for great first dates.”
“You went from being afraid to show your face to asking me on a date.” You laughed.
“Well?” Colby said, waiting for your answer.
You nodded, your cheeks turning pink. “I’d love another coffee.”
I can remove any of the tumblrs I’ve used if you’re uncomfortable being mentioned. @daddydobrock @absolute-randomness-forever @sp00kybrock @jakeywebber @lightenupbrock @that-one-brock-boy @badassbrock @the-sun-is-dark @colbyjacksmack @rewindfridaynight @brockboytrashz
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Zombie on the Doorstep
Requested by anon, from an ask meme! Fandom is rvb and it’s tuckington, since you let me choose and i am trash lol. Sort of a modern au, Wash showing up on Tucker’s doorstep with a broken leg and covered in little cuts. Thanks so much for sending in a prompt, I really appreciate it! So sorry it’s taken so long to get out, I’ve had a very busy time having to move out of my dorm because of these coronavirus precautions. If anyone else would like to send in a prompt, feel free!
Length: 1623 words
There’s absolutely nothing on TV.
Tucker sighs, face half smushed into a couch cushion, arm extended to point the remote, and flicks through the channels one last time. Infomercials, the news, a documentary about gazelles or something, and a dumb zombie movie he’s seen about a thousand times. He settles on the zombies and ambles to the fridge for another beer.
Spending Friday night by yourself, he decides, is the fucking worst. Ever since moving to this godawful town, leaving his friends behind and working a dumb nine to five office job, he’s felt like all the life is sucked out of the world. But he didn’t do this for him. This neighborhood is safer, schools here are way better, more expensive, but better, and Junior has made new friends and is happier than he’s ever been.
Okay, so maybe not all the life has been sucked out, Tucker thinks, smiling at the family photos hung on the wall. Junior isn’t here tonight, though, he’s having a sleepover at his new friend’s house, and so Tucker is all alone, with nothing but a shitty beer and a shitty zombie movie to keep him company. He sighs again and turns the volume up, bright screen flashing around the dark living room.
About halfway through the movie, Tucker is bored out of his mind and also debating whether or not to leave the comfort of the couch for a snack. Before he can choose, there’s a knock at the door, or at least something that sounds like a knock. It’s faint and uneven and makes Tucker wonder if it was just the wind, but no, there’s definitely a shadow swaying in the window.
He slowly makes his way to door, a little voice in the back of his skull telling him to grab something to use as a weapon in case it’s a zombie.
What the hell? he asks himself. Get ahold of yourself, man, it’s a movie.
Still. He picks up his empty beer bottle. Grips the neck firmly. Just in case. He is a grown ass man and he is not afraid of zombies, he’s just. Being prepared, is all. He can’t believe he’s letting the dumb zombie movie get into his head.
The man behind the door, though he could be mistaken for someone doing his best impression of one, is not a zombie. Tucker blinks in surprise. “Wash?”
Wash is the only person in this town who hasn’t treated Tucker like a shitty outsider since moving here. It may have something to do with people treating Wash like he is also a shitty outsider. Either way, Wash is about the only person even coming close to the friend territory for Tucker. He is also the last person Tucker expected to find on his doorstep.
Wash staggers forward and makes a strained sort of moaning sound, and Tucker momentarily reconsiders the zombie theory until he gets a good look at Wash, leaning heavily against the doorframe, breathing hard, and bleeding from a gash on his forehead. He’s not the risen undead, he’s just hurt. Pretty badly.
“Jesus, Wash,” Tucker moves to support him and gently lead him inside, out of the cold. “What the hell happened, man? Are you okay?”
He’s obviously very much not okay, but after Tucker gets him seated on the couch and he takes a few deep breaths, some of the colour returns to his face.
“I kind of, um…crashed my car.” Wash rubs a hand sheepishly along the back of his neck, a nervous habit Tucker’s noticed in just the short time they’ve known each other. With the other hand, he gestures outside, though the still-open door.
Tucker looks, and, sure enough, sees Wash’s little grey sedan a little farther down the road, rendered useless with its hood bent around a tree. There is a nasty curve in the road right there, and with the strong wind that makes it hard to even pull the door closed, it isn’t difficult to imagine what happened.
Wash is apologizing, talking too fast and moving his hands, embarrassed, saying, “I just knew that you lived here from that one time I dropped you off and I’m really sorry to bother you but I was just hoping that maybe I could borrow your phone because mine sort of got broken and I just need to call a tow truck and then I’ll be out of your hair—”
“Tow truck?” Tucker stares at Wash incredulously, who is still bleeding from a thousand tiny cuts on his face and is avoiding putting any weight on his visibly swollen left leg. “Tow truck?” he repeats, “are you out of your mind? Wash, you need an ambulance.”
“No!” Wash jumps up to put himself between Tucker and his cell phone sitting on the coffee table. He lands on his bad leg and nearly crumples to the floor.
Even as Tucker helps him back onto the couch, Wash is adamant. “No ambulances. I’m not going to the hospital.”
“Well you’re sure as hell not leaving this house, then, because I know for a fact you aren’t going to look after yourself.”
Wash sighs and crosses his arms. Then he winces and uncrosses them
“You can stay here tonight,” Tucker offers, because he is just a nice person like that and definitely not because of the strange feeling in his gut that says he doesn’t want Wash to leave. For sure, it’s because he’s nice, and not that feeling, at all whatsoever. “Don’t worry about the car, we can deal with that tomorrow.”
Wash looks up at him, dumbfounded. “A-Are you sure? You don’t have to do that, Tucker, really, I’m okay. I don’t want to impose.”
I’m okay is possibly the most blatant lie Tucker’s ever heard in his entire life, but he doesn’t call Wash out on it. Instead, he says, “Dude, don’t use big words, I don’t know what they mean.”
Wash opens his mouth, probably to argue that impose is actually a relatively small word, but Tucker is leaving the room. He returns moments later with a first aid kit and a couple ice packs.
Wash tries to protest at that, too, insisting he’s fine.
“Shut up,” Tucker tells him, “I’m a doctor.”
Tucker is most definitely not a doctor, and Wash knows this, but it amuses him enough to listen and shut his mouth. He audibly holds back a groan as Tucker lifts his leg to prop it up on a throw pillow.
“I know, I know,” Tucker says, surprising even himself with how gentle that sounded. He quickly changes tone to, “But you’re supposed to elevate it so it doesn’t get all, like, swollen and shit.”
“You don’t sound like a doctor,” Wash informs him.
“Well, I don’t normally do broken bones. I specialize in love,” Tucker says, waggling his eyebrows exaggeratedly. That earns an eyeroll and a soft smile from Wash, so he counts it as a win.
He pulls out some band-aids and little antiseptic wipe thingies (okay, yeah, he’s really not a doctor), and gets to work tending the cuts on Wash’s face. The car window must have been smashed. He tries his damnedest not to make awkward eye contact with Wash while staring at his face. Wash does his part by focusing on a very interesting thread coming loose from the couch.
“There.” Tucker leans back and admires his handiwork, and gives Wash the ice packs to distribute them as he pleases. One goes to his leg, and the other, his ribs. “How’re you feeling?”
“Better,” Wash says sincerely. “Thank you Tucker.”
Tucker feels a lot more flustered than he thinks he should feel, and nods, speechless, before retreating to the kitchen.
He roots around the refrigerator for some leftover pizza. He doesn’t have a whole lot of food in the house right now, but it’s better than nothing. He can guess with a fair amount of certainty that Wash hasn’t eaten yet today. Plus, it will be a lot harder for Wash to say things to fluster him when his mouth his pull of pizza.
He snags some pain killers, too. Wash will be too proud to ask for them, but he’ll appreciate them, Tucker is sure.
It occurs to Tucker that maybe Wash is a little farther into friend territory than he thought, since Tucker knows all these things about him. He decides not to dwell on that idea right this second. Or any future seconds.
He returns, hands out the snacks and medicine, and makes himself comfortable next to Wash on the couch. Wash is lying down, tips of his hair brushing against Tucker’s thigh. It tickles, but he doesn’t mind. He reaches over the back of the couch and snags a blanket, pulling it over Wash. Wash freezes, mid-bite of pizza, but doesn’t say anything. Tucker grabs his own slice and turns his attention back to the TV, to the stupid movie.
Wash nitpicks, highlighting details that are left out, and unrealistic stunts the characters are pulling off, tentatively at first, and more enthusiastically when Tucker doesn’t discourage it. Tucker jumps at the jump scare, it is indeed called that for a reason, and he feels Wash chuckle. It’s a nice feeling, even though it’s at his expense, and he thinks maybe the movie isn’t so dumb after all.
By the time it’s over, Tucker doesn’t feel so lonely anymore. He looks down at Wash.
“That,” Wash blinks at the TV as the credits roll past, “that was the worst ending, ever. Of all time.”
Tucker smiles. Wash smiles back. Tucker has seen the movie a thousand times before and hated it, but this time, he thinks the ending seemed pretty good.
#yay it's done!!!#thanks so much anon i hope you enjoy it!#red vs blue#rvb#my writing#agent washington#david washington#lavernius tucker#tuckington#can be platonic if u want lol#i had my ship goggles on bc once again#i am trash lmao#whump#hurt/comfort#injury#car crash#alcohol mention#blood mention#junior#idk what else to tag#if youd like something tagged let me know!#<3#let me know what you think!#feedback is always appreciated
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multiples of 8, except in the misc section. all even numbers for the misc section
200: My crush’s name is: well well well this question again. you’re not getting anything out of me!!! they fucking use this website!!!
192: I am allergic to: nothing. but i found out like yesterday not everyone gets dermatographia and im kinda annoyed. what do you mean your skin doesnt get red and puffy the moment you touch it......
184: Xbox or ps3: xbox solely because of ah
176: Last YouTube video watched: my watch history says this, which is a scene from a show called billions. this scene in particular is about my favorite character asking about their introduction scene with their former mentor figure that they quickly outranked and asking why they were picked for the internship that lead them down this [entire shitpath].
168: Luck: [long sigh]. [puts on clown makeup].
[obi wan voice] im my experience there’s no such thing as luck.
[rian voice] luck? there’s probability plausibility and actuality. luck is superstition. luck is lazy math. [winston voice] that’s what i always say.
160: Soul mates: again souls arent real..... nor do i believe that people are “meant for each other” on any sort of cosmic/larger level. you are more compatible with people based on your upbringing and your interests and your values and those are adaptable over time though some people are so different that they will never get along and other people match/complement each other incredibly well.
152: Phone or Online: lmaoooo this questionnaire once again showing its age. throwback to when these things weren’t synonymous. online for sure. what am i gonna do with a phone? talk to someone with my fucking voice? i think not.
144: Oranges or Apples: to eat by themselves? probably apples since they are easier and less of a mess. and apples are more consistently better than oranges. oranges, it’s easy to get a batch that just sucks. juiced? probably orange. i love me some fuckin orange juice. but i like apple cider more than orange juice.
136: Hillary or Obama: lmaoooo again.. the age of this. 2008 or 2012. going to guess 2008. obama but not like. enthusiastically. while he was certainly better than [what we got going on now] he still bombed the hell outta some countries......
128: Manicure or Pedicure: ive never had either but i would probably be more comfortable with a manicure. people touching my feet would make me ticklish.
120: Gay Marriage: the only type that should be allowed. sorry straights youre no longer allowed to get married. /s obviously.
112: Facebook: oh BOY are you fucking ready. are you???? im starting the readmore NOW because this is going to be something. i doubt anyone except robots maybe will actually read my deranged pro-privacy anti-facebook/social media/surveillance rant but im angry every time i think about it and if i were a more important person than a rando on the internet with a keyboard im sure facebook would hire someone to kill me one day.
FUCK FACEBOOK. FUCK THAT SHITTY ASS WEBSITE THAT AT EVERY TURN HAS BEEN REVEALED TO HAVE HORRIFYING PRACTICES OF DATA COLLECTION.
but before that, they need to pay some goddamn fucking taxes. they are profiting off the data of billions of people and getting away with paying SO LITTLE back.
you ever hear about deepface? no this is not the beginning of a prequel meme. deepface is facebook’s facial recognition technology and facial recognition is fucking terrifying. that shit is as good as humans at facial recognition at this point. does that not scare you? that a bunch of computers can figure out if this photo contains you or not? it’s one thing if humans recognize each other, but another thing when computers who can process data almost infinitely faster than humans can are able to do it. the scale and speed at which these fucking nightmares operates is hard for us to imagine and so we are all not scared enough of what they can do. this kind of technology is so deeply privacy violating it’s hard for me to stress it enough. every image of you ever uploaded on the internet could possibly be put through facial recognition tech. and with the fact that there are cameras literally everywhere at all times now at this point it’s so fucking possible that if desired, someone could find out where you are at all times. and that gets SO scary when used by governments. are you comfortable with your government knowing where YOU are at all times? yes? what about if tomorrow your government is overthrown by a group of radicals you completely disagree with? you still comfortable with that? facial recognition is kind of a fucking pandoras box that we are opening and now that we have the technology available to us, unless we actively take steps back from it, it WILL eventually/already is being used in malicious, intensely privacy invasive ways.
and everything in that above bullet point goes for ALL DATA COLLECTED ON YOU, EVER. everything you’ve ever said on facebook is probably put through some multi layered neural network fucking robot who is learning how to understand what humans say on your input and also cataloging things about you as a person. it is doing SO MUCH more than reading the exact text of what you are saying and then picking up on keywords. neural networks are an attempt to copy how humans think by making an artificial version of a brain basically. in simple terms it’s a map of points and connections and you feed it data for a while and tell it what the desired outcome should be. it will adjust those connections and the weight of those points based on your data and expected outcome. that change in connections and weights is how it learns. then after a while it has fed on enough data that it will begin to expect what your desired outcome is. now imagine millions and millions of connections and points. it’s fucking huge. you ever hear about how we don’t know how machine learning/deep learning/neural networks works? this is that. it’s because they are so large and they have changed their weights and points so much that we no longer understand how it makes its decisions. ml is on a deeper level starting to understand what you mean when you say words. like a human. and can pick up nuances humans cannot because of its perfect memory. do you understand how scary this is? do you? i really do not know how to express this better how absolutely buckshit wild and terrifying the idea that everything i say online can be scraped and put through a robot and a profile on me and who i am and my ideals can be gathered almost instantly. how hard would it be to write a scraper that goes to my blog and grabs the text of every post in my talk tag? and then there’s free and open source nlp software (or you can pay for it) and you can feed in everything ive said on this blog ever. you can go to my facebook. you can go to my twitter. you can find my profiles on every online platform ive ever used and take everything ive ever said and determine what kind of person i am based on that. and then you can then make further distinctions based on that data. (sidenote: facebook wouldnt have to scrape the data on my profile, it’s all in their databases already. they have everything ive ever posted on public or private, on my old profile i’ve deactivated, every photo ive posted or been tagged in, everything ive ever uploaded to their servers or have been associated with.) and someone or robot can make decisions about me based on that data. it could just be am i likely to buy [this product] or it could be something much more like am i a threat? am i dangerous to you, the person using this data about me? what are my politics? what are my views on [this topic]? are they too extreme? should i be denied [real life thing] based on what this machine has determined about me from my data online? not to sound fucking crazy, but you ever watch that episode of black mirror? nosedive? and its system where you can rate interactions with people? how this one girl was trying to increase her ranking so she would qualify for a cheaper price on housing? how we’re already starting to see things like this in real life with china’s social credit system?
call me a fucking wack job but i think it’s so deeply creepy that we have digitized so many aspects of our lives and leave machines we no longer understand how they make their decisions to analyze every bit of data about ourselves.
by the fucking way facebook tracks data on people WHO DO NOT USE FACEBOOK. FACEBOOK TRACKS DATA ON PEOPLE. WHO. DO. NOT. USE. FACEBOOK. are you scared? i am.
i’ve been thinking about this tweet from @/malwaretech on twitter from a few days ago.
text: On a serious note, social media tracking is more extensive than you may think. For example: those Facebook 'like' buttons you see on every website? They call home. If you're logged into your FB account, it records that you visited that web page, even if you don't click 'like'.
doesn’t that sound a lil fucked up to anyone else? that facebook knows that i visited that webpage even though i did not tell it? that it will use that data to build a better profile on what my interests are and that it will use that data to better sell ads to me? i’ll be honest i am unsure of if facebook sells that information to other vendors. i think that might be not allowed but i wouldn’t be surprised if that data somehow got into the hands of people who arent facebook.
the fact that for the longest time you could NOT get your data deleted from facebook? that even if you deactivated your account facebook would still keep all of that in their shit ass servers forever? as far as i know, that’s changed now, but i would not at all be surprised if the next day it was revealed that facebook was Actually Keeping all that info anyways
the fact that by default facebook’s privacy settings are set to allow anyone to see most info about you? just this whole opt out culture is so fucking wack. it should be opt in. your privacy settings should default on the MOST PRIVATE and it should be up to you to ACTIVELY SEARCH OUT how to change them to public. it is ON FACEBOOK to actively cultivate privacy but of fucking course they don’t.
lmao cambridge analytica politics russia brexit trump. i don’t have the energy to even open this fucking can of worms but i will say that again, another layer of deeply fucked up that political campaigns can use that data to try to coerce or influence elections.
do you remember when in 2019. yes twenty. fucking. nineteen. 2019. two thousand and nineteen. 2019. i dont know how more to stress how recent but late this is. 2019. facebook admitted that it and instagram were still. STILL. STILL. S T I L L. storing passwords as plaintext? meaning your password that is “password123ilovedogs” is stored AS “password123ilovedogs” in their database. it is STANDARD AND EXPECTED PRACTICE that websites store SECURE hashes of passwords (not like fucking. md5 or something) meaning you do a bunch of fucking “irreversible” math on the password and store that instead of the actual password itself. so the db would be storing “298!79v@w8W#R;3,f9jf” instead of your actual password. anyways face. fucking. book. was storing passwords as plain text. which means if they ever have a data breach on their passwords db then all that data inside will just be your actual goddamn password. your actual goddamn password. what the fuck? what the fuck? and we still use this website? we? me? i use this website daily? i use this website on a daily fucking basis and allow it to continue to collect information on me? im so goddamn angry.
the fact that now in this day and age you are considered weird for not having any social media? super fucked up. the fact that employers will check your social media and if you don’t have one that is somehow a red flag? weird as hell. why must we participate in the world’s largest data collection scandal ever just to be a member of society? i cannot choose to opt out. facebook collects data on me even if i do not have an account. society expects me to have some form of social media and if i do not then that i am the weird one for it. if you choose to live a life of trying not to be tracked it is almost impossible. can you live your life in modern society without an email address? without a smartphone or laptop? there is an expectation that every person is available to communicate with digitally and if you find the practice of data collection abhorrent and don’t want to use websites that do so, then you’re the weird one who has a LOT of society’s services unavailable to you.
im not going to even touch on the psychological effects that facebook and social media have on people other than to ONCE AGAIN, say they are very real and deeply fucked up.
by the way check out haveibeenpwned. enter your email and it’ll check against databases to see if your email has been on recent dumps. i have been. lately there have been a few older accounts of mine that have been breached and it’s terrifying.
fuck jesse eisenberg man he fucked over spiderman crazy
fuck faang. fuck big tech. fuck data collection. btw edward snowden is a hero. fuck all of this.
104: The future: man we’re in for it. i am not optimistic about it at all. too much tech progression / not enough foresight / expansion/globalization of the world / global warming / political and economic issues are all coming to a head to make the world a fucking disaster.
96: Changed a diaper: never done it! i am not around children often.
88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: having a vague idea of where things are locally. im very bad with directions.
86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: answered already.
84: People call me: yeesa, apparently. i have a fair amount of nicknames but i just call myself teresa.
82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: sure haven’t though i deserve one
80: The first person i talked to today was: soph because she wakes up at a normal goddamn time so i’ll sometimes have a text from her from a few hrs ago
76: Right now I am talking to: milo and a discord server im in for a group of friends i made when i was applying to college. though i havent responded in quite a while since i went on my angry facebook rant.
74: I have/will get a job: well i HAD a job for the beginning of the summer when i was a TA but i do not any more as that was first summer semester only. hopefully in the fall i’ll have a job as a TA again but who knows. and then after that when i graduate i hope hope hope hope hope i will have a job lined up.
72: Today: woke up. made a plum smoothie. played minecraft. took a nap. here i am. it’s all very riveting.
70: Next Weekend: it’ll happen for sure. odds are i will be waking up and eating food and coming on the internet and chatting with friends and doing a bit of writing and trying to learn a bit more html.
68: The worst sound in the world: answered already.
66: People that make you happy: will roland lmao.
64: My friends are: well it’s basically the same people i tagged in my last post on people who make me happy.
62: My School: you tryin to doxx me? it’s alright. not the best for my major. and also stupidly trying to reopen for the fall because theyre greedy and idiots. it was like my 5th choice school but it is what it is.....
60: I lose all respect for people who: already answered
58: Your hair color is: black as fuck. im east asian.
56: Favorite web site: controversial but archive of our own dot org i guess. i believe in their mission and like how they have advocated for fans and have created a fan-owned space on the internet. they’re not perfect but i overall support them.
54: The worst pain I was ever in was: answered already
52: My room is: a time capsule of what i liked in late middle school/early high school.
50: Where would you like to be: im fine where i am. maybe visiting friends though. i would like to Hang With Them and Do Fun Activities.
48: Ever been in love: who’s to say....... what is love? (baby don’t hurt me). but for real the concept of love is weird to me, especially romantic love. i don’t know. i’ve certainly obsessed over people. i’ve noticed i kind of “pick people” to have crushes on. i can’t really say why. but then it creates a feedback loop of i pay more attention to them -> i think more about them -> i like them more. so i’ve made conscious decisions that have lead to me obsessing over people.
46: More guy friends or girl friends: girl but that’s just because people in fandom spaces tend to be women and most of my friends ive made through fandom.
44: One person that you wish you could see right now: kaity is coming to my town but we cant see each other because of a pandemic so im kinda fucking miffed about that. i didn’t get to see maria before she left my state so i’m also miffed about that.
42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: lmaooooo no. i would just like to be satisfied with my life. would like to see friends. do fun things with them.
40: Last person I got mad at: idk im not generally a mad person. mark zuckerberg probably.
38: I wish I was a professional: as in i suddenly have all the skills and talent needed to be a professional? i think a director &|| writer tbh. i would love to have the Creative Vision necessary to come up with dope ideas AND translate what i have in mind into real life. i would love the ability to be able to tell compelling stories that mean a lot to people.
32: Athlete: lmao if it was 2008 or 2012 i would ahve said ryan lochte but nevermind. idk. maybe katie ledecky.
24: Movie: am not much one for movies...... star trek 2009.
16: Book: i don’t know how to read.
8: Yankee candle scent: idk about yankee candle specifically but i love the smell of apple.
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Hospital Update—
howdy! did i emo post about feeling sick and going home from work and then didn’t post for a few days except to complain and say “i’m okay! i’m in hospital but i’m okay” 😦
oops, i guess i did
so if i worried you with that i’m truly sorry, and i want to emphasize the i’m okay bits of this story and the fact that i am still definitely okay but still definitely shook up and exhausted and processing that this week even really happened. so i’m gonna try to go over what went down and y’all aren’t allowed to make fun of me if it’s not as funny as my usual writing, deal? deal!🥰 i just have had a verrry shitty time with the fact that so much that happened is a blur and i kinda depend a lot on my interpretation of events, and i want to write it down so i have some kind of record before i lose even more details— and that can mean that while writing this out it’s gonna actually be a litttle tmi, and more medical mumbo jumbo than you care about, but hey what level of social media isn’t dripping in performativity? what else am i gonna do, besides type this out? watch more family feud? wait for my next potassium horsepill?
so i legit just thought i had a flu last week, thought i’d need to just sleep off the nausea and fever and body aches and tummy troubles, have some soup, have some sprite and gatorade, have some saltines, have some tylenol. i had been complaining for a few days about not feeling well and thought that’d be the worst of it as i never really get sick and when i do i never do much about it other than being a pioneer woman and suffering through it. and this post would be soooooo boring if that were the case— don’t worry, it was not the flu.
so something cracked in my blood after i went to sleep to try to feel better, and my body did that autoimmune thing that bodies do where it said “hey..... something’s trying to kill us. what if we died first?? that’ll show em!” and my blood platelets started eating themselves. not ,, good.....
meanwhile it was the next morning and i was supposed to get ready for work but i still felt like shit (because my body was torpedoing itself) so my dear memere coming to check up on me saw me wild and vomit-strewen, except i wasn’t actually wild at all i was just shutting down blood-utilizing organ by one and imagining that i was this wild Romantic mrs rochester in my burning nightgown while my aunt and memere quibbled over whether they could get me into the car to try urgent care. in my haze i heard that and my dumb ass was like “is it that necessary??” and luckily my dumb mouth wasn’t functioning at the time bc she didn’t say nothing and instead my relatives called an ambulance. our little mountain town has its own hospital, that’s a nice part of the story! it’s a nice little hospital!
the paramedic was lovely and tried to get me sweatpants because it’s november. i didn’t listen to her because my fever was insane and i was more concerned with making sure my cats weren’t in the way of the gurney 🤪#yikesolabranding
i had the same paramedic in the ambulance with me when they sent me to the hospital in the big city and i spent the whole 90 minute drive talking about how much i love those fucking cats
that’s beside the point, but i want to be clear about who i am at my core apparently, always talking about the gals 😻
so i get to the hospital and this is the first black out. i guess technically second because of when it all started, but let’s pick up with me waking up in the hospital. i have nine plasma. i have a fever of 105. i’m being given a blood transfusion, thanks high schoolers who wanted to get out of running the mile in PE that day!
they throw their dartboard tests and decide i have TTP—
basically, they just need to trick my blood into calling off the attack. how are they gonna do that? they’re gonna confuse the blood, overwhelm it, overcrowd it. they’re gonna get me to the fancy city hospital and treat my veins like frosting piping bags.
it’s snowing— no helicopter for me. i have a catheter at this point btw, and this is one of the parts that i know is tmi but ....... ladies and friends, y’all ever had a catheter?? 😩🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪 i’m dying and legit think i’d rather piss myself to death, it hurts that bad. we take an ambulance down to the valley, i complain enough about the catheter that they finally take it out for which i apologize incessantly (something that’s probably more annoying than the original complaining but i could die in my own piss comfortable and happy so whatever let’s not worry about it.) i pass out again.
i wake up in ICU. i’m assured i am neither pregnant nor have AIDS. good news✌️ especially considering some family history i won’t dive into here. they’re saying the catheter word again and that scares me bc ow, but don’t worry! this one is going in my neck :) it’s how we’re gonna save my life—
we pump thirteen (13) bags of plasma into my neck via dialysis. it works so well they decide they’re gonna do it for a week! i am weeping through the entire 90 minute procedure btw, and apologizing for it. i’m a Fun Patient!
i pass out again.
i wake up to another assurance that i am still unpregnant and don’t have AIDS. hmmm glad those ones stick!
my aunt is begging me to rub my two brain cells together so i can unlock my phone. i do, which is interesting considering when asked the year i repeatedly answer 1992 and 1994. but my 4digit phone passcode? try and wipe that from me, bitch ass stroke
my aunt calls my dad. he is less of a jerk than he could be :) he thinks my uninsured ass should move to the hospital he works at in california. fucking comedian
i text some friends waiting in my hospital bed. it’s a messy text. if you’re a friend who got one of those texts, bless your reading comprehension abilities and please know that my intention was to say something like “i don’t want to worry you, I’ve checked into the hospital but am okay” but it was like in pooh’s grand adventure when pooh bear spilt honey all over christopher robin’s note that literally said “DONT worry about me, i’m NOT going far away” and read it as “worry about me, i’m going far away” and basically i should’ve taken the opportunity to pass out again instead of trying to text lol
i did call one friend instead of text and she was at dinner with her husband, so sent a little “call you back later!” before listening to the voicemail and the poor dear felt very bad for blowing me off, though i promise i did not feel blown off, i shouldn’t have called at dinner time like a damn telemarketer!
so i wake up again and it’s been two days 😞😞 whoopsie! they’ve done more plasma, i’m stable, and my brain is coming back. I’m BORED. i’m trapped in my body and can’t move and in incredible pain! i’m covered in bruises. i’ve vomited on myself. it’s time to pump me with more plasma. while they’re doing the 40min prep work for that, i am drenched in confusion, like that camouflage spell in hp5. i start screaming apologies (even when my brain is broke i can apologize, social feminization is a hell of a drug) to my doctors who ask me who the president is and i become the “don’t make me say it” meme. that made us all feel a little better.
they pump their plasma. my episode passes. i have a violet allergic reaction all over my body. they pump some benadryl. it goes away.
i can eat solid food! by “solid food” i mean strawberry jello. they tell me to order food of more substance. i order a meatloaf, and pass out before it arrives. i feel bad, eat it cold. i have Never had a better meatloaf, although if i’m being perfectly honest she was closer to a salisbury steak. genuilnely, *chefs kiss*
it’s day five, it’s time for me to leave the ICU. this fancy new room has a toilet :) and a shower! i finally get that vomit out of my hair. my aunt brings me my glasses; they’ve been on my bedside table this whole time
day six is a petulant day ..... idk why but my neck catheter was killing worse than usual and the plasma treatments had been slowly getting more bearable but then this day ,, wasn’t. and suddenly this all felt like a lot of hoops to jump through. and i had some “this isn’t fair🥺” moping as though not being dead isn’t wicked cool enough on its own. whatever, i’m feeling a lot better today, and y’all were really nice about my grumbling so thank you for that, without an ouce of facetiousness🥰
day seven, thanksgiving! i’m finally awake early enough for breakfast. i have fruit loops and laugh at mr amazing’s pain. i have hospital turkey for thanksgiving. it’s as bad as hospital turkey has to be, i can’t blame it for that. my memere sends two blank text messages. she’s 84, so i interpret them as “happy turkey day” and “love you”
i have what is supposed to be my last plasma treatment. before they pull my neck catheter out, they decide it willl not be. i’ll have at least one more in the morning. they’re still not comfortable, but i don’t cry through all 90minutes now. only like ,, 70 minutes of it🤙 maybe i’ll break under an hour tomorrow.
that’s all for now— at this time discharge is looking like monday or tuesday. my TTP recovery is likely, just a matter of time. i’m having a really hard time looking at my phone screeen (typing this has taken on and off 4hrs of dizzy and break) but so look forward to getting back into things that make me happy like japhan content and all the fests and kiss prompts i was working on before this. thanks for listening to this poor approximation of what i remember of my hospital experience! ✨✨🥰 sorry idk how to add a damn read more
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A/N: A little late summer one-shot. Fills the Kiss Meme Prompt #20 “A kiss on the neck”. Title from “Backseat Serenade” by All Time Low. Some language and mild sexy times because duh.
salty like a summer day (kiss the sweat away)
It’s dark when he pulls up to her street, the summer sun long since set. The lights are off in her house save for the back porch bulb that he knows clicks off automatically at midnight. It’s times like these that he hates his car, because no matter how beautiful the vintage Camaro is it also boasts an engine that could wake the dead. He cuts the engine immediately, hoping like hell it didn’t wake her parents.
The night is still as he waits with baited breath but no lights turn on upstairs and no neighbors come out to investigate.
It’s hard sometimes, being the boy from the wrong side of the tracks, when you’re dating the girl from the right side. But it’s a secret, this thing they have between them, and even though he knows that right now it’s for the best it still kind of pisses him off that this is the only way he gets her.
Better than not having her at all, he supposes.
It doesn’t take long before her front door is opening and closing, the only light guiding her towards his car coming off her cell phone screen. He can see her wild blonde curls piled on top of her head in a messy bun that he can’t wait to mess up later. She’s in nothing but pink cotton sleep shorts and a black tank top because despite the fact that summer is almost over it’s still hotter than hell outside.
But so is this girl. Damn.
She’s got a grin so wide he can see it through the dark and then she’s racing around his car, opening the squeaky metal door as quietly as she can before pulling it closed behind her.
“Hi,” she says breathlessly and he smirks, reaches over and slides his hand around the back of her neck. He barely has to tug and she’s leaning into his kiss, the strawberry lip gloss she’s been wearing all summer the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.
“I wasn’t expecting you to text tonight,” he says, pulling away from her reluctantly so he can start up his car. They both wince at the loud noise, damn his need for a souped-up ride, and he waits until he’s sure the coast is clear before heading towards their favorite late night destination.
It’s been the same all summer. Clarke does shit with her friends during the day, the ones from her own side of town, and then at night she texts him to hang out. He doesn’t think of it like a booty call because they don’t always hook up. Sometimes they spend the night at the diner his mom used to work out, binging on greasy burgers and deep fried zucchini. Other times they end up at the abandoned drive in theater, lying on the hood of his car while he shows her the constellations and tells her the stories of their origins.
She told him once that a bad boy history nerd was something she never knew she always wanted.
Not that he’s a bad boy, by any stretch of the imagination. But in this town, when you’re from Arkadia Heights, and not Arkadia Proper, it doesn’t matter if you’re a straight A college student with a full time job that also takes care his younger sibling in the wake of your single mother's death. In the eyes of the elite, you’re less than.
Clarke Griffin has never looked at him like he’s less than, though. Not when she brought her cute little hybrid into the auto shop he works at to have a taillight fixed. Not when he made a move, asking for her phone number even though he was positive she was way out of his league. And not even when they went to that cheesy diner for their first date. Clarke looks at him like he can give her the world without needing a single cent to his name.
“I just wanted to see you before school tomorrow,” she says as she runs her fingers up and down the back of his hand where it sits on the gearshift. It should weird him out a little, dating a girl that’s still in high school but she’s a few months from eighteen and he’s barely twenty. That's part of the reason that she hasn’t told her parents about them yet, because she swears that while they aren’t rich snobs like people she knows they might have a problem with his age.
“I’m glad you did,” he says, lifting her knuckles up and brushing a kiss across them. “I missed you.”
He finds himself saying shit like that around her that he’s never said with anyone else before. Not even Echo, the girl he dated almost all through high school. He honestly thought he’d marry her but she went to college in another state and they just couldn’t keep it together through the long distance. That’s how he knows she wasn’t the one for him. For the one you’d be able to work through anything to keep them in your life.
Things like dating in secret for three months.
“So, where to tonight?” He gives her a smirk and she blushes as she scrolls through his playlist, settling on a slow cover of a song by Joshua Hyslop that he knows she loves. Her soft voice floats over to him as she sings along and he swears that he doesn’t think he could live without this girl even if he wanted to.
The giant screens of the old drive in flash bright white when his headlights hit them and he knows what Clarke is going to say even before the words leave her lips.
“I wish we could have come here when it was open.”
It’s something she’s said more than a dozen times over the summer. One night he brought this little cell phone projector that he bought to see if they could watch it on one of the screens. It only ended up taking up a corner of it but she still kissed him like it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her.
He parks in front of one of the screens and rolls down his windows before he shuts off the engine. The air outside is still stifling hot but a light breeze hits them every so often and cools their already sweating skin.
“Bellamy…”
Her voice is barely audible over the music that’s still playing softly in the background.
“That doesn’t sound good,” he says with a dry laugh and if she’s about to break up with him he thinks it’s a pretty shitty way to do it considering they have a thirty minute drive back to her house. “Just say it, Clarke. Is this,” he motions between them with his index finger, “over?”
“What? No!” Her voice is too loud in the quiet car and she shakes her head at not just him but also herself. “No, of course not.”
She reaches for him, pulling him so he’s practically in her seat, and kisses him. Her fingers scratch at the back of his neck like he loves and he nips at her bottom lip like he knows she does.
“So, what’s wrong?”
Clarke pulls away so she can look at him and it’s crazy how just being this close to her can make his heart pound out of his chest.
“I think I’m falling in love with you.”
She says the words so bluntly that it takes him a second to catch up. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth and he grins slowly, lifting his thumb up and pulling it down.
“Really?”
Clarke scoffs a little, her flushed cheeks visible even in the dark. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
“Well, I am,” he admits. “It’s not every day the princess falls in love with the pauper.”
“Stop that,” she says seriously. “You’re not a pauper and I’m not a princess. And I just told you I love you. You could at least say something back.”
Bellamy grins and tugs her closer to him. “You didn’t actually say the words.”
Her breath hitches when he runs his finger along the strap of her tank top. “I love you, Bellamy Blake.”
There’s no way to hide the grin on his face so he doesn’t try to. “I love you, too.” He whispers the words against her lips and she lets out a little moan that goes straight through his body. “Now, will you please come over here so I can kiss you properly?”
She laughs as she climbs over the center console and straddles his waist, her hands diving into his hair at the same time her lips connect with his. Kissing someone has never felt this electric, like the simple act of kissing her could start a fucking forest fire. The breeze is gone, causing the entire car to heat up like a furnace but he doesn’t even care. A light sheen of sweat builds everywhere the tank top doesn’t cover and he groans, licking a stripe over her shoulder and kissing up her neck.
“You taste so fucking good,” he whispers in her ear and she lets out the sexiest moan when he bites the skin behind her ear.
He practically dies when she rasps out, “What do I taste like?”
“Summer,” he says as he kisses his way back down her neck. “I can’t wait to find out what you taste like in the winter.”
She giggles, this soft little sound that he adores. “Probably hot chocolate,” she says into his mouth. “I love hot chocolate.”
“Good to know.”
They end up in his backseat, her legs wrapped around his waist as he buries his face into her neck. By the time they both come down it’s practically a sauna in his car.
“It’s so fucking hot,” she says, the curse word rolling off her tongue so easily it makes him laugh.
“I’m corrupting you,” he says as he pulls himself away from her. “You hardly swore at the beginning of the summer.”
“Maybe,” she shrugs as she pulls her tank top back on over her head. “But I love it.”
“Good.”
The lights of her house are still off when they pull up a few hours later and he reaches for her before she can open the door that’ll take her away from him for who knows how long. School is starting for both of them and with his job and taking care of his sister, he won’t be able to sneak out in the middle of the night to spend time with her.
“I’m sorry summer has to end,” he says, his voice a little sadder than he meant it to be. “I don’t want to lose you, Clarke.”
“You won’t,” she tells him seriously, and when she kisses him he knows that she means it. “I’m telling my parents about us. This is real and I want everyone to know it, even if they don’t understand.”
He nods and smiles, kisses the tip of her nose before gesturing to her house with a tilt of his head. “G’night , Princess.”
She’s almost to the door when she turns around and shouts, “I love you, Bellamy Blake!” then tilts her head back, laughing before she skips the rest of the way to her front door.
His chest rumbles with laughter as he drives away, reaching for his cell phone when he hits the stop sign at the end of her street. He thumbs out a text to her before driving back towards his own side of town.
And I love you. Even if you are a little crazy.
Everyone in love is a little crazy, Bellamy. You’re just going to have to get used to it.
And he can. For her, he really, really can.
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Hey Yo, can I get all 200 asks for the ask meme thing? Please and thank you!
Absolutely
200: My crush’s name is:
Horia
199: I was born in:
Romania
198: I am really:
friendly and trustworthy
197: My cellphone company is:
Digi
196: My eye color is:
Aqua Blue
195: My shoe size is:
7,5
194: My ring size is:
20?? hell if i know tbh
193: My height is:
5′7
192: I am allergic to:
nothing
191: My 1st car was:
I can’t drive yet!!
190: My 1st job was:
No jobs yikes :c
189: Last book you read:
Sword of Destiny!!
188: My bed is:
messy and full of plushies
187: My pet:
no pets but ahh my baby plant
186: My best friend:
I’ve got tons of them and I’m pretty sure they know themselves
185: My favorite shampoo is:
ah I don’t really have any preferences
184: Xbox or ps3:
*big gasp* ps3
183: Piggy banks are:
They’re superb but I would feel so bad about wrecking one
182: In my pockets:
Glasses tissues
181: On my calendar:
uh there’s nothing noted yet
180: Marriage is:
Something quiet amazing and lovely, at least from my point
179: Spongebob can:
aww man I don’t watch spongebob
178: My mom:
is shorther than me, that’s for sure
177: The last three songs I bought were?
I didn’t buy any songs but I did buy albums and the last three I bought I suppose were Aenima by tool, Portrait of An American Familly by Marilyn Manson and Slipknot by Slipknot, I think
176: Last YouTube video watched:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4q9UafsiQ6k
175: How many cousins do you have?
2 or 3 I think
174: Do you have any siblings?
Yes, one
173: Are your parents divorced?
nope
172: Are you taller than your mom?
yes B)
171: Do you play an instrument?
Not yet but I’m planning on getting a bass so
170: What did you do yesterday?
I went to a cool concert
169: Love at first sight:
not rlly
168: Luck:
nope
167: Fate:
also no
166: Yourself:
no *oops doopsie I’m sorry*
165: Aliens:
yes
164: Heaven:
nah
163: Hell:
no
162: God:
nopety
161: Horoscopes:
not really
160: Soul mates:
hmm a bit
159: Ghosts:
no
158: Gay Marriage:
157: War:
not really
156: Orbs:
not really :/
155: Magic:
no but I find it interesting154: Hugs or Kisses:
hugs
153: Drunk or High:
I personally wouldn’t go for any of those but drunk ig
152: Phone or Online:
online
151: Red heads or Black haired:
black haired
150: Blondes or Brunettes:
ah, blondes
149: Hot or cold:
cold
148: Summer or winter:
winter
147: Autumn or Spring:
spring
146: Chocolate or vanilla:
vanilla
145: Night or Day:
night
144: Oranges or Apples:
oranges
143: Curly or Straight hair:
straight
142: McDonalds or Burger King:
McDonalds
141: White Chocolate or Milk Chocolate:
White Chocolate
140: Mac or PC:
PC
139: Flip flops or high heals:
flip flops
138: Ugly and rich OR sweet and poor:
sweet and poor tbh
137: Coke or Pepsi:
coke
136: Hillary or Obama:
Obama??!!
135: Burried or cremated:
cremated
134: Singing or Dancing:
singing
133: Coach or Chanel:
coach
132: Kat McPhee or Taylor Hicks:
I uh, none
131: Small town or Big city:
big city
130: Wal-Mart or Target:
I had never went to one though Wal-Mart
129: Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler:
Adam Sandler
128: Manicure or Pedicure:
Manicure
127: East Coast or West Coast:
East Coast
126: Your Birthday or Christmas:
Christmas
125: Chocolate or Flowers:
flowers
124: Disney or Six Flags:
disney
123: Yankees or Red Sox:
Yankees
122: War:
I uh personally don’t agree with them and uh dunno
121: George Bush:
Don’t have one yet
120: Gay Marriage:
I find it lovely but too sad it’s not legal here so
119: The presidential election:
Quiet stinky as in no good choices
118: Abortion:
See this topic rips itself in two, if it’s intentionally done I personally think it’s the worst thing to do but that someone can do whatever they want, it’s their body after all, though if it happens and it’s not intended just, big sad react
117: MySpace:
I don’t have an opinion on it
116: Reality TV:
I don’t really watch it nor like it
115: Parents:
I would’ve appreciated if my parents showed me more support and love but not that I have anything against our type of relationship at the moment so
114: Back stabbers:
I totally not like them so I choose to cut contact with them
113: Ebay:
It’s fine till now
112: Facebook:
I’m not a big fan of Facebook
111: Work:
If it’s something I love, it makes me feel good but if it’s not it kind of brings a feeling of uneasy and frustration to me
110: My Neighbors:
They’re chill, the baby and the puppy are my favorites
109: Gas Prices:
kinda shitty here
108: Designer Clothes:
They can design what they want however they want, this is not really a topic of interest for me
107: College:
I can’t wait to get to it ngl
106: Sports:
Not one of my interests but they do look fun
105: My family:
I tolerate them easily but yeah I love them
104: The future:
Other than that I’m scared as hell regarding the future? nah
103: Hugged someone:
Eh!! Today!!
102: Last time you ate:
7 hours ago??
101: Saw someone I haven’t seen in awhile:
Oh last week I think
100: Cried in front of someone:
U H, yesterday
99: Went to a movie theater:
last thursday
98: Took a vacation:
last Christmas
97: Swam in a pool:
last summer
96: Changed a diaper:
never tbh
95: Got my nails done:
OH, it’s been ages since I’ve done that
94: Went to a wedding:
4 years ago
93: Broke a bone:
never nyehehe B)
92: Got a peircing:
I don’t have any but planning on getting some
91: Broke the law:
never
90: Texted:
minutes ago
89: Who makes you laugh the most:
tbh, my friends
88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is:
my stuff but mostly my baby plant
87: The last movie I saw:
Captain MArvel
86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most:
finishing high school
85: The thing im not looking forward to:
Missing upcoming opportunities
84: People call me:
Satana(I have the perferct explanation)
83: The most difficult thing to do is:
talk in servers or groups tbh
82: I have gotten a speeding ticket:
Oh I’d feel terrible and embarassed tbh
81: My zodiac sign is:
LEo
80: The first person i talked to today was:
my boyfriend
79: First time you had a crush:
in 5th grade
78: The one person who i can’t hide things from:
My boyfriend.. because he knows when something’s up with me or if something’s not good
77: Last time someone said something you were thinking:
hmmm weeks ago I think
76: Right now I am talking to:
@angelwings-234
75: What are you going to do when you grow up:
be a programmer
74: I have/will get a job:
I hope to get one as a programmer in the future (though hell If I know what exactly yet)
73: Tomorrow:
I’ll probably hope for school to end faster just so I can nap
72: Today:
I haven’t done much tbh
71: Next Summer:
Will be so busy and I’m so not up to it
70: Next Weekend:
I’ll be going to a cool ass contest
69: I have these pets:
I have a baby plant!!!
68: The worst sound in the world:
static noise
67: The person that makes me cry the most is:
myself?? sounds a bit edgy
66: People that make you happy:
all the close friends in my life and some artists along with stuff I enjoy a lot
65: Last time I cried:
yesterday
64: My friends are:
There are too many to list them but luv them all
63: My computer is:
full of games that I’m probably not going to finish in the following 2 months
62: My School:
kinda sucks when it comes to students
61: My Car:
does not exist yet
60: I lose all respect for people who:
who are rude and big mean bags of shit?? I could detail this but dunno
59: The movie I cried at was:
Interstellar
58: Your hair color is:
blonde
57: TV shows you watch:
SOA, Gotham when my bf watches it and I don’t really like TV shows though I have some on my waiting list
56: Favorite web site:
https://www.pbinfo.ro/
55: Your dream vacation:
just, somewhere around a forest, it’d be quiet lovely ngl
54: The worst pain I was ever in was:
tooth pain
53: How do you like your steak cooked:
a bit raw tbh
52: My room is:
ass messy as me
51: My favorite celebrity is:
uhhh Corey Taylor
50: Where would you like to be:
Right now?? At my bf, if it wouldn’t bother him..
49: Do you want children:
ABsolutely
48: Ever been in love:
still am ig
47: Who’s your best friend:
I have too many but love them all so much
46: More guy friends or girl friends:
I have more guy friends apparently
45: One thing that makes you feel great is:
achieving something
44: One person that you wish you could see right now:
All of my best-friends tbh
43: Do you have a 5 year plan:
I do
42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die:
Not yet and I doubt I’d do it
41: Have you pre-named your children:
me and my bf came up with some names but who knows
40: Last person I got mad at:
My bf i think
39: I would like to move to:
another city in my country, a much bigger one
38: I wish I was a professional:
artist
37: Candy:
Haribo
36: Vehicle:
Renault or Dacia
35: President:
don’t really have one
34: State visited:
I haven’t been to any at all
33: Cellphone provider:
Digi
32: Athlete:
I don;t have one yikes
31: Actor:
Hmm Benicio Del Toro
30: Actress:
I like some but I don’t have a favorite one
29: Singer:
Peter Steele, his voice is simply, lovely
28: Band:
Ohhh anon Tool and Cargo atm
27: Clothing store:
I don’t have a fav one
26: Grocery store:
any??
25: TV show:
Sons Of Anarchy
24: Movie:
The Alien trilogy
23: Website:
Twitter I think
22: Animal:
Cat
21: Theme park:
I don’t really have one
20: Holiday:
Christmas
19: Sport to watch:
ski jumping
18: Sport to play:
Volleyball I think
17: Magazine:
Don’t have one
16: Book:
The Shinning
15: Day of the week:
Saturdays
14: Beach:
Don’t really like beaches
13: Concert attended:
Truda’s concert for moment but I suppose Disturbing’s going ro replace it or maybe Cannibal Corpse, who knows
12: Thing to cook:
Pudding
11: Food:
Noodles or cremeschnitte
10: Restaurant:
One called Anna
9: Radio station:
don’t have one
8: Yankee candle scent:
dreamy summer nights
7: Perfume:
men’s one are my favorite, gotta admit it
6: Flower:
ORchids
5: Color:
purple and black
4: Talk show host:
don’t have one
3: Comedian:
A romanian one, can’t remember his name
2: Dog breed:
German Shepherd, American Eskimo, Border Collie, Golden Retriever, Siberian HUsky there are too many I can’t choose only one
1: Did you answer all these truthfully?
yes I did it oh god
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If you wrote some canon Dinesh and Jared fake dating I’d owe you my LIFE
I think you owe me your life like 6 times over at this point lmao
---
“Jared,” Dinesh says, placing a box of green tea on the table, “I got you that tea you like...and I was wondering if you could do me a favor?”
“Of course,” Jared says, smiling. “What is it?”
“Well...my mom is coming to visit soon, just for a few days, and I may have told her that I’m in a relationship so that she would stop trying to set me up with every gay guy she meets.” Dinesh says, very quickly and awkwardly, trying not to look Jared in the eye. “And, um, anyway...I was wondering if you would mind...pretending to be my boyfriend? Just while she’s here?”
Jared pauses, and Dinesh grimaces. “Sorry. Stupid idea. I’ll leave, you can keep the tea, forget I said anything, and please, please don’t tell Gilfoyle.”
“No, Dinesh, I’ll do it,” Jared says, smiling. “But I think it’s very sweet that your mom is so accepting of your sexuality!”
“Trust me, you wouldn’t think it was sweet if you were there when she tried to make me a Grindr profile,” Dinesh says. “But...thank you.”
---
Jared accompanies Dinesh to pick his parents up from the airport. Or more accurately, he drives, seeing as Dinesh no longer has a car and will likely never trust himself with one again.
Dinesh gets out of the car when he sees his mother and waves her over, shouting something in Urdu. When his mother gets to the car she immediately pulls Dinesh into a tight hug, then holds him at arm’s length to adjust his hair and make some kind of comment about his shirt. Judging by the tone in which Dinesh responds, it’s not complimentary.
“And this must be the boyfriend!” she says in English as Jared gets out of the car to help her with her bags. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you, Jared.”
“It’s very nice to meet you too, Mrs. Chugtai,” Jared says, tucking her bags into the trunk.
“Please, Jared, call me Nasreen,” she says. “Dinesh has told me so much about you!”
Jared blushes. “Really?”
“All very good things,” Nasreen says, smiling. “He said you like birdwatching, and that you made some amazing bread for a company party?”
Jared smiles. “Yes, I made a gluten-free cinnamon-raisin swirl bread, I was very proud of how it turned out.”
“Well, perhaps I’ll get the recipe from you and make it next time Dinesh is home, since he likes it so much,” Nasreen says. Jared holds the door open for her to get into the backseat, and as soon as everyone’s buckled up he turns the car on and maneuvers out of the airport pickup line.
---
As the week progresses, Dinesh becomes accustomed to “dating” Jared, and wonders why he has never considered the other man as a romantic option before. Probably because Jared has always seemed so devoted to Richard - having that kind of intense affection fixed on himself, Dinesh finds, is strange but not entirely unpleasant.
Not to mention the fact that Dinesh’s mother loves him. After a day and a half she manages to add him to the family WhatsApp group, and Jared’s phone buzzes nonstop with Urdu memes and chain messages from Dinesh’s various cousins.
“I don’t understand ninety percent of the conversation,” Jared admits, “and Google Translate isn’t particularly helpful, but...it’s nice to feel included. Like I have a family.”
Dinesh is never sure how to respond when Jared says shit like that. His mom, on the other hand, immediately adopts Jared as another son.
“What do you mean, no family?” she asks at dinner after Jared has explained that he has no family and therefore no holiday plans. “Dinesh, why didn’t you tell me this poor boy was an orphan?”
Dinesh shrugs and mutters something about how he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. In truth, he hadn’t really known - Jared has mentioned growing up in foster care, and with an aunt and uncle who sound like absolute monsters, but it never really clicked before that he didn’t have anyone in the world.
Dinesh suddenly feels very guilty for all the shitty things he’s ever said or done to Jared. There’s not enough fancy tea in the world to make up for it.
That night, he brings up the topic as they’re lying in bed trying to fall asleep. To keep up appearances, they’re all staying at Jared’s condo - Nasreen on the pullout couch (after Jared lost the argument about who got the proper bed) and Dinesh and Jared in Jared’s room. Jared originally planned to sleep on the floor, but when Dinesh woke up to the sound of mumbled German and whimpering for the third time in one night, he convinced Jared to sleep on the bed and put up a retaining wall made of pillows. Now, they’re lying in bed facing away from each other when Dinesh brings up the topic.
“Hey,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Jared asks.
“For...well, I’ve kind of been a dick to you ever since we met. I mean, I called you names and bossed you around, and I slapped you when Gilfoyle and I were fighting about our phones and I’m really, really sorry about that.”
“Oh, Dinesh, don’t be silly,” Jared says. “I deserved it, I got in the way. It won’t happen again, I promise.”
“No!” Dinesh says. “Jared, you didn’t deserve it, and you shouldn’t be apologizing, you have nothing to apologize for, you’ve been nothing but generous and kind and forgiving ever since I met you. I’ve been an asshole.”
“Dinesh, don’t worry about it,” Jared says. “I’ve survived far worse.”
“That doesn’t make what I’ve said and done to you any less bad,” Dinesh says. “You shouldn’t have to put up with this shit, and I’m sorry, and I’ll really try to be better from now on. I know that’s not saying much but...I mean it. I’m sorry. You deserve better.”
There’s an uncomfortable silence, and then a sharp hitched breath.
“Jared,” Dinesh says, “are you crying?”
“No,” Jared says in a tear-choked voice. Then, a moment later, “Yes. I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Dinesh says. “Um...is there anything I can do to make you feel better? Do you want some water, or...or a hug or something?”
Jared rolls over to face Dinesh, his large blue eyes filled with tears. “Are you - do you really mean it?” he asks. “A hug would be...would be nice.”
Dinesh reaches and awkwardly hugs Jared, gently patting his back. “There, there,” he soothes. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, you’re going to be okay.” As Jared calms down and his breathing evens out, Dinesh presses a soft tender kiss to his temple.
Jared freezes, and Dinesh kicks himself internally. “Shit,” he says. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have - I’ve made it weird. I’m sorry. I’ll sleep on the floor, I’ll leave tomorrow, I’ll - “
Jared cuts him off with a kiss on the cheek. “You didn’t make it weird,” he whispers. “It’s okay. I like this. I like you.”
“Oh,” Dinesh says. “Well...I like you too.”
#jarnesh#jared dunn#dinesh chugtai#fake dating au#i might write a full-length Thing from this eventually#bruhgender#and every answer sounds the same
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how about arranged marriage and time travel for credence x percival?
From the fanfic trope MASH-UP meme. I am having heaps of fucking fun with this guys, feel free to send more.
Confession time: time travel has never really been my thing, because paradox makes me crazy. So I stuck Outlander and Terry Pratchett’s Night Watch in a blender, in true fanfic trope MASH-UP fashion, and …. Well.
I have accidentally committed fic. The beginnings of fic. It was an accident, that’s the important part to remember, okay? I DID NOT MEAN TO DO THIS IT JUST HAPPENED.
Trigger warnings for suicidal thoughts and sex education that honestly makes the stuff Americans get in health class look good by comparison.
New York, 1926
Graves liked drinking at the Fountain of Youth.
The Fountain was a proper wizarding bar, all gleaming grey marble shot through with streaks of silver and elaborately complex goblin-forged steel fixtures. It was named for the fountain set into the wall at the back of the bar, which fed the reflecting pool that ran the full length of the room. Some enterprising soul had spelled the surface above the water as hard as the marble around it, so that patrons could cross over the pool without fear of getting their shoes wet. Or, if you believed the rumors, without fear of coming into contact with the water, which was supposedly cursed. Graves suspected that last bit was pure fiction. St. Brigid’s Hospital notified MLE of all curse-related injuries – assuming MLE wasn’t already involved – and no one had ever reported a single incident at the Fountain.
He didn’t really care one way or another. He liked the Fountain because it was far enough away from the Woolworth Building that he was unlikely to encounter anyone who worked there. It was also expensive enough to ensure that that if he did encounter someone he knew, it would probably be a politician or a fellow department head with someone who very definitely wasn’t their spouse rather than one of his subordinates and was therefore disinclined to talk shop with him.
No one bothered Graves at the Fountain. It was peaceful, a little oasis of calm at the end of a shitty day.
“Another round, Director?”
Graves set his empty glass back down on the bar. “No, thank you, Hawthorne. I think I’m done for the evening.” Magic knew he wanted another drink – his day had been far too fucking long, and tomorrow wasn’t going to be much better – but all another drink would do was ensure that he started tomorrow with a headache instead of finishing it with one.
He reached into his pocket for a trio of dragots to pay for his drink. He wanted to go home and collapse into bed, but there was a small mountain of case notes waiting for him in his home office that he needed to review first.
Fucking Grindelwald. He’d stopped rampaging across Europe two weeks ago, and the entire wizarding world was waiting to see where he’d turn up next. The intelligence community suggested he was turning his attention towards America, but there hadn’t been a sighting yet.
Hawthorne shook his head. “No need.”
Graves glanced down at him. No one drank for free at the Fountain.
The house elf tilted his head, indicating a wizard tucked into a shadowy corner with one large pointed ear. “Gentleman in the corner paid for youse.”
“Did he,” Graves murmured. “Did he say why?”
Hawthorne gave him a pitying look. “Ain’t youse supposed to be some kinda hotshot Auror?” he asked. “Why does any wizard by somebody a drink?”
He had a point.
“Maybe he wants to be friendly,” said Graves.
“Yeah,” said Hawthorne. “Friendly. Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
“Sometimes I really wish Seraphina had decided to uphold Prohibition,” Graves told him, just to piss Hawthorne off.
“Yeah, but then where would you drink?”
Graves snorted in amusement, slinging his greatcoat over his arm as he headed towards the wizard in the far corner. He wasn’t in the mood to fuck his frustrations away – or have them fucked out of him, depending on what the other wizard wanted – but good manners dictated that he at least thank the other wizard for the drink.
“Percival Graves,” he said, by way of introduction.
“Oh,” purred Gellert Grindelwald. “I know.”
New York, 1693
The surface of the lake in Morrow Woods was smooth and cold as mirror glass, undisturbed by man or beast. Nothing lived inside the lake – not fish or fowl or any other sort of creature. No one swam in it, not even in the height of summer, when the cool water might have provided some blessed relief from the heat. It was cursed, or so Credence had heard it said. Even magical creatures gave the lake a wide berth. There was something about the lake that disturbed them.
Credence stripped out of his clothes, shivering in the cold night air. Curses frightened him far less than marriage. He dove into the water before he could lose his nerve.
The cold drove a startled shriek from his lungs. Credence sucked in water and choked, surfacing with a wretched sob. For one long, terrible moment he had more water in his lungs than air. He forgot how to tread water, splashing noisily while he tried to suck air back into his lungs. His feet hit the bottom of the lake – he must not have dove in deep enough, he was still too close to land – and he managed to stand, hacking up the last of the water.
“Please,” he rasped, pleading with the curse. “Please, take me away.”
No one drowned in the lake, or if they did, their bodies were never found. The curse took them instead.
“Please,” he begged.
The water was so cold it burned. If he stayed, he risked freezing to death. Or maybe drowning. Drowning did not seem so very bad, compared to the certainty of what lay ahead of him.
Suicide was a mortal sin. Credence had convinced himself that if the curse took him, that was magic and therefore the extension of God’s will, even if he died of it. But if he stayed in the water and let the cold take him, that death would be the work of his own hands.
A brief mortal life full of suffering was probably better than eternal damnation.
Credence thrashed his way out of the water, his limbs heavy with cold. He fumbled his clothing back on and went home, weeping silently.
*
“Get up.” Ma’s voice was as implacable as iron. She had no patience for sluggish layabeds, and having to come fetch him for his morning chores had likely already roused her ire.
Credence opened his swollen eyes and tried to obey. For once, his swollen eyes weren’t because of tears. The cold from the lake had settled into his bones, burning him up from the inside out. His head ached, a throbbing counterpoint to the rest of him. He couldn’t stop shivering.
“Sorry,” he rasped. “M’sorry.”
Ma frowned at him. “You’re ill,” she said flatly. She pressed the flat of her hand against his forehead. Credence almost wept with relief. Her hand felt blessedly cool against his skin.
“Sorry,” he said again.
Ma pulled her hand back. Credence almost fell over trying to follow it.
“Lay down,” Ma said. “I’ll bring you a potion. We need you healthy when Mr. Graves arrives.”
“Yes, Ma,” Credence said. His head felt like it was filled with cobwebs. He couldn’t think.
Ma made a faint noise of disapproval when she came back with the promised potion. “You wretched, miserable boy,” she sighed, but for once the words held none of their usual sting. Her hands were gentle as she helped him back into bed. She hadn’t raised them to him at all since his marriage to Mr. Graves had been arranged. Credence was Mr. Graves’ property now, and Mr. Graves wouldn’t allow anyone to mistreat his property but him. He had been very clear about that. “You were finally going to be useful to us and now you’ve taken ill. You’d best pray to get your strength back quickly, for Mr. Graves’ sake.”
“Yes, Ma,” said Credence.
The potion she gave him tasted vile, and it only served to make him even sleepier. Credence closed his eyes and let it drag him down into the dark, where the nightmares waited.
New York, 1926
Graves drew his wand. “Gellert Grindelwald, you are under arrest for crimes against wizardry –”
“Oh, don’t be tiresome, Percival,” Grindelwald chided. He had been handsome in his younger years, but there was something unsettling about him now. His blonde hair had been bleached an unnatural white, and his pale, mismatched eyes burned with frightening intensity.
Grindelwald had no intention of going quietly.
“Please,” said Grindelwald. “Sit down.”
Grindelwald hadn’t drawn his wand yet. He felt comfortable, clearly in control of the situation. No one else was in danger yet.
Graves intended to keep it that way.
“If I sit down, will you let everyone else go?” he asked.
Grindelwald smiled. “If you like,” he agreed. “I am not an unreasonable man, Percival.”
Graves had some doubts about that, but he kept them to himself. He tucked his wand back into his sleeve and snapped his fingers for Hawthorne instead.
Hawthorne disappeared from behind the bar and reappeared at his side, his expression startled and wary. Graves had never summoned him before, not like that. Only an asshole would mistreat a creature who couldn’t fight back; house elves were meant to be honored for their servitude. Decent wizards treated them kindly.
“Clear the room,” Graves commanded.
“Director –” Hawthorne began.
“Tell no one,” Grindelwald warned him. Graves shivered. There was an eldritch note in his voice, something ancient and awful. It sounded the way the Imperius felt.
Hawthorne made a startled, hurt sound.
Graves rounded on Grindelwald. “What did you do?”
Grindelwald frowned at him. “I forced him to obey my commands.”
“You didn’t need to do that!”
Grindelwald sighed, as if he found Graves tiresome. “He’s just a house elf,” he said, dismissive. All around them, the other patrons of the Fountain were gathering up their things and leaving. Hawthorne urged the last of the stragglers on, jaw working as he looked back at Graves.
He was trying to say something, Graves realized. Trying to warn them, despite Grindelwald’s command. Hawthorne clawed at his mouth, drawing blood.
“Stop!” Graves cried, unable to watch Hawthorne hurt himself. Hawthorne flinched at the command. “Just – leave me, please. I’ll be fine, Hawthorne. I swear it. My word as a Graves on it.”
Hawthorne gave him an unreadable look. For a second, Graves thought Hawthorne would try to disobey him too, and then Hawthorne vanished.
“So soft-hearted,” Grindelwald mocked.
“Only an asshole mistreats a house elf,” Grave snarled. “What do you want, Grindelwald?”
“Why, you, Percival,” Grindelwald said, sounding genuinely surprised that Graves hadn’t figured that out already.
“I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last wizard in the world,” Graves told him. “Thanks for the drink, asshole, but you’re under arrest.”
Grindelwald laughed. “I’ll grant that you’ve a certain brutish appeal, Percival, but that’s not what I want you for.”
“What exactly do you want me for, then?”
“I want your life,” said Grindelwald. “I want your position and your name. I want your face.” Already his own face was shifting, his hair and eyes darkening. The shape of his jaw changed to match the stubborn set of Graves’ own. In less than a minute, Graves was staring at a man who might as well have been his twin.
He meant to take Graves’ life for his own, Graves realized. Grindelwald wanted to wear Graves’ own face like a mask to serve his own ends – to hurt Graves’ people.
“Fuck that,” he snarled, drawing his wand and firing off a curse.
“Dilaceratio!”
The slashing hex caught him in the wand arm. Graves’ grip on his wand weakened, just for a second, before training and experience took over. He took a firmer hold of his wand and ignored the bleeding, countering with a “Relashio” he hoped would make Grindelwald drop his wand instead.
Grindelwald hit him with lightning instead. Graves screamed in pain and fury, bringing his wand up to fling Grindelwald across the room.
Fuck, but the bastard was fast. Powerful, too.
“I see rumors of your prowess have been greatly exaggerated,” Grindelwald said. “How … disappointing.”
“Fuck you,” Graves retorted.
“I thought we’d established neither of us want that from the other,” Grindelwald said, surging up with a volley of hexes.
Graves blocked the first two and missed the third. The fourth took him in the chest, momentarily blacking his vision. Instinct took over and he returned fire.
There was only one way for this to end. Either he died or Grindelwald did.
Graves had cast the killing curse three times over the course of his career as an Auror. He didn’t count the times he’d used it during the war. The war was different.
This felt like the war – the chaos of battle and the certainty of his conviction. It was him or Grindelwald, and Graves would do whatever it took to ensure that if only one of them survived, it would be him.
“Ava –”
Grindelwald sent him crashing into the marble fountain behind the bar. Graves hit it hard enough to fracture the spells on the reflecting pool. He landed on hands and knees in the fountain, still clinging tightly to his wand.
Something strange happened when his blood touched the water. The reflecting pool shone bright as the heart of a star, just for a second, and then the whole world went white.
New York, 1693
Credence’s nightmares were filled with the day Ma sold him.
“We need men like you,” Ma said. “Good men.”
Gondulphus Graves scoffed. “You don’t want me because you think I’m a good man, Goody Barebone. You want me for my wand arm and my willingness to use it.”
Ma kept her back straight to look Mr. Graves in the eye, her hands folded demurely in her lap. “Yes,” she said flatly. Mr. Graves was not a man who appreciated artifice or flattery, preferring plainspeaking to pretty words. “That’s what I want. What will it take to get it?”
Credence was not sure why Ma was bargaining with Mr. Graves. Mr. Graves was clearly going to join them anyway. Credence had heard it said that Gondulphus Graves was powerful, but there were plenty of powerful wizards out there.
Mr. Graves turned cold eyes on Ma. For a second, Credence thought he would ask for her, and he was not sure what he would do if Mr. Graves did. Challenge him to a duel? He was little better than a squib; he didn’t even have a proper wand. There was no point in giving him one.
After a second, Mr. Graves’ cold eyes slid past Ma and landed on Credence. Credence resisted the urge to shudder in revulsion; he felt trapped by Mr. Graves’ eyes, as though Mr. Graves could strip him down to his skin with just a look.
“That’s a comely lad you’ve got,” he said.
“Adopted,” Ma said. “But no less dear to me than my own flesh and blood.”
“Of course, of course,” said Mr. Graves. “Is he a virgin?”
Ma bristled. “Of course!” she snapped, a hint of steel in her voice. “As if I would tolerate such behavior under my roof. You insult me, sir.”
Mr. Graves held his hands out in a placating gesture. “No insult was intended, Goody Barebone. Truth be told, I’d prefer it if the boy were untouched.” His smile sent chills down Credence’s spine. “I prefer to break them in myself.”
Ma stared at him coldly. “I will not,” she said, enunciating each word slowly and deliberately, “tolerate such behavior under my roof.”
Mr. Graves considered that. “Give him to me, then,” he said.
“Give!” said Ma, going pale with rage at the insult. Credence knew better than to think that it was on his behalf. Ma was just insulted that Mr. Graves thought she would sell him so cheaply. “Bad enough sodomy is a sin, but sodomy out of wedlock? No, sir. I will not stand for it.”
“Neither of you needs to stand for it,” said Mr. Graves, laughing at his own wit. “He only needs to lie back and spread his legs.”
“Ma,” Credence whispered, terror forcing him to speak. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want Mr. Graves.
Ma got up and backhanded him swiftly. “You will speak when spoken to,” she commanded, sitting back down again. Only Credence’s bleeding lip gave any sign that she’d moved at all. “I raised him better than that,” she told Mr. Graves. “He’d be a good helpmeet for you. Knows his way around the domestic chores.”
Mr. Graves eyed Credence. “May I?”
Ma made a be my guest gesture.
Mr. Graves got up, cupping Credence’s chin with hard, calloused fingers. He turned Credence’s face this way and that, releasing Credence’s chin so that he could wrap it around Credence’s throat instead, squeezing in clear warning. He used his other hand to stroke down Credence’s chest, his buttocks, between his legs. Credence squeezed his eyes shut, praying for it to be over soon, cheeks burning with humiliation. He couldn’t stop the frightened whimpers that escaped, but Mr. Graves seemed to like that.
“Give him to me,” said Mr. Graves, “in marriage, if you must, and I will join your cause.”
No, Credence thought, desperately willing Ma to hear him. To care, just once, about what he wanted. Please, please, don’t do this.
Please don’t give me to him.
Ma nodded once, decisive. She held her hand out for Mr. Graves to shake, the way a man might.
“You have a bargain, Mr. Graves.”
“Good,” said Mr. Graves. He shook Ma’s hand. “Feed him up a bit, would you? He might have the Barebone name, but I’ve no desire to fuck a little pile of them. I’ll be back to marry him by midwinter. I’ll join you then.”
Ma pressed her lips together, but she nodded.
Mr. Graves pressed a mocking kiss to Credence’s trembling mouth. “Smile, sweetheart,” he told Credence. “We’re to be married.”
Credence looked at Ma in mute appeal. It did no good. Ma had made her mind up.
“Yes, Mr. Graves,” he said.
*
Credence did not know, exactly, what passed between men in their marriage bed. He understood that sodomy was a sin, but he was less clear on what it involved.
“He’s going to put his prick up your bum and roger you,” said Ned Ponsonby, who worked at the stables of the inn. Ned was a No-Maj, but he knew about Credence’s kind and didn’t care, as long as their coin was good. He wasn’t exactly a friend, but Credence knew he took coin from men in exchange for certain services, and was thus the closest thing Credence had to an expert.
“He’s going to what?” Credence asked, numb with horror.
Ned clucked at him. “Put his prick up your ass,” he said again. “And fuck you until he comes.”
Perhaps ignorance was bliss after all.
“That’s – that’s –” Credence gave up. “Does it hurt?”
Ned shrugged. “Sometimes. If he’s big, or if you don’t stretch well enough ahead of time.”
“Stretch?”
“Are you going to repeat everything I say like a nervous virgin?” Ned asked, squinting at him.
“I am a nervous virgin, Ned!”
Oh, God, he hadn’t meant to say that. Terror had stolen his control over his tongue.
Ned sighed, taking pity on him. “I know that, Credence,” he said, almost kindly. “Everyone knows that.”
“Oh,” said Credence, utterly humiliated.
“Look, I don’t know what your people do, but us ordinary folk, we use a bit of grease to get ready, yeah?”
“No,” said Credence. “I mean, not no, we don’t do that, no, I don’t know what you mean.”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” muttered Ned. “It’s like watching a lamb get led to the slaughter. Coat your fingers in grease, rub them around your hole, ease ‘em in and make some fucking room, alright? If this man of yours is half the brute everyone says he is, he’ll tear you if you don’t.”
“Isn’t that how it’s supposed to go, the first time?” Credence asked. “Women bleed.” There was talk if they didn’t. He didn’t want there to be any talk about him, not if everyone already knew that he was untouched.
“You’re not a woman, dumbass.”
“I – Yes, but –”
“Just – Oh, hell. Just take my advice, alright? Get yourself ready as best you can, and if you can’t do that, then come see me after. It’ll be easier to explain things to you once you know how everything works.”
“I – yes. Thank you, Ned.”
“Credence,” Ned said firmly. “My coin?”
Credence passed over his meager savings. It was wizarding currency rather than No-Maj, but coin was coin.
He walked away from the stables and resolutely did not weep.
Graves surfaced with a howl of rage, thrashing in water far colder and deeper than the reflecting pool of the Fountain. He twisted, trying to find Grindelwald, but there was no one else in his immediate vicinity. He was entirely alone, floating in some kind of lake that literally had not been there a minute ago.
“What the fuck,” he said.
Fuck, he was cold. The water was freezing. He had to get out of the water before the cold sapped his strength.
Get out of the water, find Grindelwald, then kill him, Graves told himself.
He swam towards shore, grateful that he was near the edge of the lake and not in the middle. His waterlogged clothing made swimming difficult, and he had to resist the urge to kick off his shoes and rid himself of a bit of the weight. He’d need his shoes once he was ashore; the area around him was entirely forested.
Where the fuck was he?
At a guess, Graves thought he might be somewhere in upstate New York. The trees were oak and ash and sycamore, just like the ones around Graves Manor. The air even smelled the same.
How the fuck had he gotten to upstate New York?
What the fuck was in the water at the Fountain? And it had been the water, Graves was sure of that. Everything had been – well, not fine, but normal – until his blood had touched the water. Was that how the rumored curse worked?
Find Grindelwald, then kill him, he reminded himself. Everything else could wait, including getting answers to every last one of his questions.
Graves spelled the water out of his clothes, casting a wordless warming charm.
Grindelwald was unlikely to be lurking behind trees. And while it was tempting to wait and see if Grindelwald surfaced in the lake as Graves had, Graves suspected that Grindelwald was somewhere else.
Grindelwald was also probably wearing Graves’ own fucking face, just to add insult to injury.
“FUCK!” Graves yelled, startling several birds into flight. The trees accepted this silently, offering no censure for his outburst.
Graves felt ridiculous anyways. Yelling like a toddler who hadn’t gotten a cookie wasn’t going to do any good.
He sighed, looking around himself for signs of human habitation. There was a dirt road leading towards the lake, the dirt lined with ruts from wagon wheels.
Graves frowned at them. There was something not quite right about that.
He followed the dirt road away from the lake, pausing only to bandage his still bleeding arm and occasionally curse his shoes, which were perfectly fine for sitting at his desk in the Woolworth Building and completely useless for wandering through the fucking woods. He couldn’t even run in the fucking things. How had his life gotten to the point where he owned shoes he couldn’t run in? He was an Auror, for fuck’s sake. He needed to be able to run.
After twenty minutes or so, Graves thought he could hear the sound of people, somewhere in the distance. He stopped short once he crested the hill, staring down at the small settlement the dirt road led to. The buildings were short and made of wood, smoke rising from chimneys and cookfires. There were people, too, dressed in clothing Graves hadn’t seen since he was a boy at Ilvermorny, learning about the original Twelve Aurors and the Founding. Women in petticoats and men wearing stockings and breeches.
Maybe they were just historical reenactors, he thought, but Graves knew himself well enough to know when he was grasping at straws.
Graves realized, somewhat hysterically, that he’d been asking the wrong question. He shouldn’t have been asking where he was.
He should have been asking when.
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3 A.M. (Jared Kleinman x Reader)
394. “It’s 3am and you’re the only person in McDonald’s right now and why do I have to work the night shift”
A/N: Okay, so this is the first fic I’ve ever posted online so be gentle, please lol. I really have been meaning to write this for a long time, but it took some self-convincing. Anyways, here it is and enjoy! I do take requests about anything to be honest so ask away!
_______________________________________________
You were bored. Scratch that, you were dying from boredom. Why did you have to work the night shift, rather why was there even a night shift? It’s currently past midnight and the only customers you’ve had since midnight are junkies without money. You were resting your head on your hand and leaning over the counter. You sighed heavily and stared at the clock, watching the minutes pass by. You wanted nothing more than to wash the grease off of you and to lay down in your bed watching your favorite show on Netflix.
Just then, the bell hanging above the door chimed. A customer at this ungodly hour of the night? You instantly recognized who the customer was. He was wearing a flannel with a striped T-shirt underneath. He wore big glasses and had brown hair and plastered on his face was his big shit-eating grin. The insanely annoying Jared Kleinman. But he was also your friend, so maybe he can tell you some of his stupid jokes to cheer you up.
“Why are you here? Seriously, it’s 3 am.”
“Is that how you talk to paying customers? Honestly, I’d like to speak to your manager.”
“Go ahead, she’s probably in bed asleep considering she left 3 hours ago. What do you want, Kleinman?”
“I just wanted to visit my best friend slaving away her youth in a shitty fast food chain restaurant. Are you seriously the only one working?”
“Afraid so. There’s no point in me being here.”
“You’re right. Let’s ditch it and go to my house.”
“Isn’t that a little suspicious? You know, a girl actually wanting to be at your house at 3 am?”
“Fuck off. I’m trying to save you from this hellhole, but if you’re going to act like that-”
“Look, it’s not that I don’t want to, but I can’t just leave.” Jared looked around the restaurant. Literally he searched every corner of the dining area and came back.
“That’s funny, I don’t see anyone else here. No manager to force you to stay. C’mon, live a little (Y/N).”
“I appreciate the sentiment, Jared, but seriously, I can’t go. Maybe another night.”
“Alright, I guess I'll tell everyone to come in, then.”
“Everyone?” Jared smirked and dialed a number on his phone.
“Yeah, man, she said she can’t leave. Alright, come on in.”
He shut his phone off and you stared at him in confusion. Just then, you heard a couple car doors slam shut. The bell chimed again and in walked Connor, Zoe, Evan, and Alana.
“Guys, what the hell are you doing here?”
Zoe answered you, “Since you couldn’t leave work, we decided to come here to try and convince you to hang out.”
“But you guys can’t stay unless you buy something.”
Everyone “checked” their pockets for money, meaning that they didn’t actually look for the sake of getting you to leave your job. Connor spoke,
“Aww man, we don’t have any. Guess you’ll have escort us out and then ditch this place.”
“Alana, you’re going along with this?”
“I know, it seems so out of character, but Fridays aren’t fun without you, (Y/N).”
You wiped your hand on your face and looked at your friends’ pleading faces.
“Okay, okay, fine. I’ll leave. But if I get fired, it’s on you.”
Jared clapped your back, “Aaand we can help you find a new one. One that doesn’t make you work a night shift at 3 am on Friday nights.”
You locked up the restaurant. You had changed clothes before leaving and even put on some deodorant because no one likes lingering McDonald’s smell. Everyone else had already piled in Jared’s car. Jared hung back with you. You turned to him,
“So, you’ve dragged me out of work to hang out? We could've done this another night, you realize.”
“Now what kind of friend would I be if I let my best friend in the whole world out to dry working?”
“A normal one..?”
“Good thing I’m not normal. Unless you’d rather be in there with all the grease fuming up into your hair-”
“No! I-I’m happy that you came and got me.”
“That’s what I thought. I mean who can resist the insanely cool Jared Kleinman?”
You two began walking to his car as you said, “Oh, definitely not me, Jared. My life would be too boring without you.”
You were joking when you said that, but you knew deep down that it was true. If it wasn’t for Jared, you’d still be at work, bored out of your mind. Jared always came to the rescue, whether it was getting you to ditch work or to even chase off creepy guys who were flirting with you. You couldn’t imagine your life without him.
You got in the passenger seat while Jared got in the driver’s seat. He smiled at you as he turned on the radio. He plugged in his phone and began playing Cupcakke’s Deepthroat. You and the rest of the gang started shouting the lyrics, except for Evan and Alana who were terrified at the horrid lyrics.
Jared pulled into the parking lot of a park. Everyone got out and ran around like kids. You laughed at Connor and Evan who were recreating the Jack and Rose scene from Titanic at the top of the slide. The night was filled with many pictures and snapchat videos of you all just goofing off and having the time of your lives. You saw a tree at the back end of the park that seemed sturdy enough to climb, so you raced towards it. You reached up to the lowest branch and hoisted yourself up. You grabbed onto the next branch and sat upon it. You leaned back against the trunk and watched your friends run around.
“Hey, you better be careful up there. You don’t wanna end up falling out of it like Tree Boy over there.”
“I’ll be fine, Jared, I used to do this all the time when I was younger.”
Jared hoisted himself onto the branch that was next to yours. He faced the trunk of the tree and leaned against the other branches. You smiled and averted your gaze, blushing. Thank God it was dark out.
“Hey, thanks for bailing me out.”
“What are awesome friends for, amirite?”
“Man, I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“In all honesty, you’d probably be better off. I mean, you could lose your job by being here.”
“So what? If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be there and not here… with you.”
“(Y/N) (L/N) if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were flirting with me.”
He smirked as you sighed. Then you grinned as you said,
“And what if I am?”
It was his turn to blush. For once, Jared was speechless. He just laughed awkwardly as you chuckled.
“Okay, okay, calm down there. I know I’m irresistible, but no one can tie down this loser.”
“Pfft. Whatever, Kleinman. You’d jump at the chance to get with me and you know it.” Jared just smiled and avoided your gaze.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Hey, I’ll race you to the slides!”
“Oh, you are so going down!”
You and Jared jumped from the tree and took off running for the slides. You had taken a shortcut under the jungle gym and climbed up to the top. You jumped over the side of the bars. You stopped him in his tracks.
“I win!”
“Damn, you got lucky.”
“I sure did.”
You smiled as you kissed his cheek and immediately went down the slide. He stood there in utter shock and then chased after you. After an hour, Jared drove everyone to his house and passed out in his living room. You and Jared had somehow ended up in a cuddling position throughout the night. Your face was in his chest and his arm was draped over your waist pulling you in closer.
You woke up to the smell of him and grinned. You hesitantly sat up and looked at your surroundings. There were your best friends in the whole world passed out on the floor in the living room of the guy you had been crushing on since 6th grade. You reached around for your phone and picked it up. You looked at the pictures from the night before and reminisced about the fun times that happened only hours ago. You saw the picture of you on his back with him holding your legs and your arms wrapped around his neck. You were both smiling and laughing. You cheesed at the photo.
“That might actually be the gayest photo of me.”
Jared was up. You, jokingly, pushed him away. Pretty soon everyone woke up and it was time for everyone to leave. They all, once again, climbed in Jared’s car as he dropped them off one by one. You were the last one to get dropped off. Jared walked you to your front door.
“Thanks for everything. Seriously, that was the most fun I’ve had in awhile.”
“Glad I could help. Seriously, if you ever need me to bail you out again, I’m one text away.”
You smiled as you turned to go into your house. Jared’s hand on your wrist caught you by surprise.
“Jared, what th-”
He cupped your face and crashed his lips onto yours. You, mindlessly, grabbed onto his flannel as you kissed back. He pulled away as he rested his forehead against yours. You both smiled as he pecked your lips.
“Sorry, I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”
“You can do that whenever you like, I won’t complain.”
You both laughed as he started back to his car.
“I gotta run, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“We’re hanging out tomorrow?”
“Well, I just now decided that we are going to a movie tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 7.”
“Well, aren’t you assertive.”
“You love it.”
“You’re damn right I do.”
He chuckled and kissed your hand before leaving. You walked into your house and sat down on the couch. Your mom came in and scolded you about getting fired because you went to hang out with your friends. Apparently, the security cameras were on.
After your mom was done, you sent a text to the group chat with everyone in it.
To: Tree Squad🌲
Guys, I just got fired!!!
Alana👩🏾🏫:
Oops! Sorry!
Connor🖤:
Well, you didn’t need that job anyways!
Zoe🎸:
:///
Evan🌿💙:
Oh my god! I’m so sorry! We didn’t mean to!
(Y/N):
Haha, relax, Hansen. I can just find another one.
MemeBoy™:
McDonald’s fucking sucks anyways. Have you guys seen this meme?
Connor🖤:
Jared what the fuck
Alana👩🏾🏫:
That’s disgusting
Evan🌿💙:
Honestly that’s just in poor taste Jared
Zoe🎸:
I’m really starting to think that that can’t even be considered a meme
(Y/N):
Hahaha
MemeBoy™:
See? I’m funny! (Y/N) is the only one that gets me!
Connor🖤:
Ugggghhh
(In a separate text)
MemeBoy™:
Hey, sorry about your job. I’ll definitely make it up to you.
(Y/N):
You already did
MemeBoy™:
Well there’s more where that came from.
———————
Just then he sent a picture of your face in his chest from this morning. You smiled.
———————
MemeBoy™:
You should definitely take more naps at my house. It’s like hella cute and all that gay shit
(Y/N):
Thank you once again insanely annoying Jared Kleinman :p
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What if I want it all?
oh damn kill me, this day was super meme so i was distracted almost all the time (ofc i didnt take the prompt that literally lmao)
this one is for @sky-girls because im sure she will know why, i love you very much barbara
~this baby is continuation of day 4~
other ficweek fics
DAY 6: “You’re offering to give me a kiss if I buy your shitty fundraiser popcorn? Well, in that case…”
What if I want it all?
Matteo doesn’t feel really close to his uni especially since he graduated, but sometimes those not cool people he had many occasions to meet have nice ideas. Like fundraising during uni events or sport days. Now he attends them all as well, because, well, it means no classes and despite his position he likes no classes. So except those extra people who do everything to show off their pretty/ugly faces or get some contacts in uni to pass easily, there are also those who actually care about getting money for some reason.
After he graduated he remembers they were fundraising for some orphanage, the other time for the hospital. There was something about the closest kindergarten, but Matteo doesn’t really remember what. Today there is this sports day; he will see all those ambitious students running around and competing like he used to, before he got bored with that.
He is completely sure he’s gonna die of boredom, but fundraising people gonna have it worse; they’ve always been poor unfortunate souls almost sleeping by their tents and those booths looking more miserable than kids selling lemonade in the States. Matteo looks the alarm on his phone screen shutting the snooze for third time with a sigh and turns in the sheets. Lyra meows at him probably complaining about this devilish device that wakes her up again. Good she’s too lazy to actually move the phone on his bed until it falls down and the screen breaks (happened once or twice; he’s never been mad for long).
“Just go to sleep, cat,” he mumbles and she hits him with her tail, completely offended by the name Ambar has been using since day one. “Okay, I’m sorry. Don’t hit me, I love you.”
The only reply from her is satisfied meow and her head rubbing under his chin.
He is going to be super late at uni, but also he will be super late at home in the afternoon, so snuggles with his girl are worth being late. When it’s half past seven he gives up; he needs to wake up and the only thought in Matteo’s head is deep regret of promising the professor he would be there for sure.
It’s not his favorite thing to do. Not even top ten.
Then this sudden idea hits him. What if Luna is gonna be there too?
They are nothing though. They haven’t started texting, calling each other or even talking about something else than class stuff. He can say he’s been pretty disappointed with this, but she’s been very good at acting the most casual.
It’s not like Matteo Balsano isn’t able to keep his chill for a girl, but there is something in her he can’t forget. How warm she was in his arms, how her breath tickled his skin, how her forehead felt under his lips. He accepted that; it’s not like anything would happen between them, or at least not now. Matteo gets lost in those thought and the next place he finds himself is by the door with his jacket and car keys in his hand. Before leaving he yells to Lyra that he loves her much and closes the apartment.
As soon as he takes first step into the campus he wants to take step back and run to his car. There is at least this luck of his that no one will bump into him even by accident since by some magic Matteo is really known at his faculty. No one would like to have a problem with nim and he is not sure if it is because of the fact they remember him from earlier or they just know who he is at this point.
He needs to find the professor right now to show him that his ass appeared here just like he promised. Matteo hopes he can just talk to the guy and go to Gastón’s to chill. Or maybe he should invite Gastón over?
Plot twist: professor told Matteo to check all places and make sure all students are handling their shit correctly and smiled saying he's been doing great. Matteo almost cried in horror, but he needs to do that. It's just that he really doesn't feel like smiling to everyone and being nice; he just wants to sleep and not remember about two tons of grading on his desk.
He sighs going to dart competition booth checking if there's really no way some high school kid kills or at least stabs themselves and bless, because they would only throw the dart at the organizing student, but that doesn't matter that much. He has to eat this disgusting free cake baked by some anti masterchef, hoping he won't get food poisoning. Of course, Matteo tells them they did great job and those students smile so brightly at him he can't say otherwise.
He almost gets hit when some high schooler tries to throw the basketball to the basket, but it's working in some way so he just tells them to chill and not to hit the cake next to them.
When Balsano is almost done with the papers and he notices on the last page the dog shelter booth and he immediately feels bad for not even thinking they are there. He has a cat himself so that's super nice to know someone cares about puppies enough to get money for them.
Matteo hasn't expected the person who is there though.
At first Italian just crossed his arms watching the person who is sitting by the booth. She rests her arms on it and her head is laying on top with really neutral face. The most hilarious thing about seeing Luna Valente here is the fact she's wearing sunglasses in the shade.
“I see you are having fun.” Matteo chuckles softly shifting his position slightly. She doesn't answer, ignoring him completely and he isn't sure what he did wrong, but something hits his stupid head and his fingers reach for her sunglasses.
Matteo bursts out with loud laugh making her jump on her seat. She has been shamelessly napping.
“What?” she mumbles rubbing her eyes when she sees it's him. “Let me sleep, please.”
“From what I know you're fundraising right now, little lady, not sleeping.” He lowkey curses himself for using this nickname he used during the party, but she seems too confused enough by sudden waking up to notice.
“I've been sitting here since seven am, and I am super tired, please Matteo, just let me nap.” He sighs and goes from behind the booth to sit next to her on the other chair.
Luna doesn't move away and he jumps with relief inside. “Couldn't sleep at night?”
Brunette lets air out quickly. “Yes, you should know it. It's your fault,” she mumbles and he almost chokes.
“I don't know if I should take it as compliment or-” He pokes her on the ribs softly and she jumps glaring at him.
“It's not. You wanted the test to be tomorrow so I was studying.” Her pout is definitely too cute to not smile at it.
“Well, I'm sorry I want everyone to pass.” Matteo shrugs and she growls resting her forehead on the desk when he continues. “How long do you have to sit here?”
“Until three.” He barely hears her mumble, so he has to lean his head next to hers.
“You poor thing, are people at least coming over here?”
“No, they are drawn by this shitty free cake because it's free. They don't want my popcorn.”
“You have popcorn?” Matteo raises his eyebrows.
“Yeah and it sucks as hell too. Why did I even agree to this?”
He smiles nudging her slightly. “I would buy your popcorn.”
Luna grins back at him and her eyes soften before she coughs violently, startling him a little. “There’s no way I would let you buy the popcorn.” Her head shakes.
Matteo turns to her on the chair hitting her knee with his and leans his elbow on the table. “Why wouldn’t you?”
Brunette bites her lower lip and picks up this small board her hands were keeping down. He hasn’t noticed it before so it wakes up his curiosity super quickly. “Because of that, like hour ago the professor noticed there wasn’t much money here so he looked at me and asked if I liked kissing people.” She shrugs and Matteo still doesn’t get what happened with that.
He softly takes her hands moving them away and raises the board.
BUY POPCORN
GET A KISS
SUPPORT PUPPIES
Balsano laughs out loud leaning his head on Luna’s arm. She growls pushing him away but he presses his forehead to her shoulder blade and keeps giggling until he feels tears in corner of his eyes.
“I hate you.” He can hear her murmur next to his ear.
Italian ignores her comment, which is completely, surely a lie. “And how was it? Have you kissed someone?”
Blush tints her already red cheeks and he suddenly feels uncomfortable when he thinks about her kissing someone. She opens her mouth unsure. “Like three people, I think. Maybe four, but one was in the cheek because it was too much.”
Matteo hates it. He hates the idea of someone having her lips on theirs. Even if it was for a second, they still got farther than he has ever managed. What is one kiss, one quick peck just to get money for puppies, though, compared to having her in his arms by her idea for an hour? He guesses that it is enough to not burn entire popcorn she has and pull her away from there.
“Was it nice at least?” Leaves his mouth before he can stop himself. Why the fuck is he digging the topic?
“I guess? It’s for the dogs after all, and the one girl who bought double popcorn was hot.” She rambles uncontrollably and it makes him chuckle, but in his head he is throwing all of the damn popcorn into a black hole.
“As long as she was hot, I guess.” He just shrugs.
“You don’t seem to be into that.”
Pout appears on her face along with small cute frown when he doesn’t really answer. He just looks at the watch on his wrist and hums deep in thoughts. Luna nudges him with her elbow waking him up, but she gets another shrug from him.
Brunette says nothing really for few minutes before he casually reaches for her hand and starts playing with star ring on her finger. “Do you have to stay here only until the popcorn is all sold?”
She licks her lips like involuntarily and sighs. “Yeah, if it’s gone before three I’m free.”
“I can buy it all,” he says casually, as if he’s talking about the weather.
“What the fuck?” Luna almost falls off the chair and he has to catch her waist to keep her up. “How would you do that? And what’s with all this popcorn?”
“I’m seeing my best friend this afternoon, I’m sure he would love to get some free popcorn from me.”
Luna giggles. “If you do I will call you my hero.”
“But you know…” he starts leaning closer, not sure what the hell he is doing right now, and smirking a little. “I’m gonna get the popcorn, support the puppies… So what about the kiss?”
Blush on her face grows much much and she looks super pretty. He has no idea what he wants to achieve, because looking at her recent actions she doesn’t really seem to want to be close to him in any way.
Matteo shouldn’t want that. He really, really shouldn’t.
Yet she’s the primary star to him; he can’t even try to gravitate away from her brightness and warmth. He thought he didn’t need anything except this he had already had, but then Luna Valente happened embracing him with her smile, with her happiness. No matter where he appears she is there and he wants to follow her everywhere as well.
They shouldn’t, but they are gravitating towards each other despite all shit that’s standing on their way. And there’s much of this shit.
Her teeth find her lower lip taking all of his focus when she seems to be thinking about that very intensely. “Do you really want to get the kiss?”
“Only if you are willing to give me one.”
His smile must convince her. His eyes must convince her. Something she has inside her head must convince her because she nods softly and takes deep breath, not really knowing what to do. Matteo can notice it, she’s super easy to be guessed right now, and - to his surprise - she wants to kiss him as well.
She just doesn’t know how.
He pulls the curtain that’s hanging around the booth and pushes it to cover them from any sight before he presses his lips to hers softly. Luna gasps surprised and pulls away after a second, but it’s dark, it’s dark and she’s confused, breathing faster and she probably feels super warm - judging by her blush.
And yet she pulls him back; her mouth slow when her hand reaches for his lacing their fingers. Matteo smiles widely almost making the kiss impossible, but she giggles as well and it’s as awkward as beautiful.
Because the brightest star on the sky is binary.
Gastón was the happiest seeing amount of the popcorn just for him.
After cold shower he had to take to chill down all emotions Matteo gets to the bed with big grin on his face. He has no idea what’s gonna happen now, or when, or if it’s gonna happen at all, but he got to kiss Luna and nothing would fuck this day for him.
He falls on the pillow startling Lyra and covering his eyes with his forearm. There’s this moment of silence when he feels her stomping over his chest and teasing his mouth with her paw. Italian automatically kisses it like he does every single time she does it, earning a content meow from her.
Suddenly he sits up catching her with his hands and placing her on his lap. His fingers brush through her soft soft fur making her purr and himself smile.
“You know that I love you, right?”
Lyra looks at him and meows again probably saying that she loves him back. Or at least that’s what he would like to think she says.
“And I love you very much,” he adds watching her carefully. She hits his leg with her tail, getting probably impatient.
“I wanted to ask you, because many things depend on you-” He stops scratching her chin and taking deep breath. “What would you think if I liked another girl?”
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