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stagefoureddiediaz · 6 months

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Costume Meta 7x01

Aaaaaaannnnd we're back!!

OMG I cannot tell you how good it feels to be back writing costume meta - I have missed it so very much and this first episode has given me lots and lots to talk about so lets crack on with it shall we!

Where to start?! Firstly - Its amazing to have Alayna Bell-Price back in the driving seat and she is a genius because she knows the characters better than anyone and I have to say from my perspective there is a pretty clear difference between this episodes costumes and the ones from season 6 - not that s6's costumes were bad, just that you could see the shift of having a designer who didn't know the characters to the same level. I’m going to go in order of character appearance in a non uniform capacity for this one I think so we’re going to jump around from character to character a bit. There is no Maddie or Hen this week, as we don't see them out of uniform, but every one else is accounted for and I've included Norman and Lola as they've got a multi episode arc and their costumes are interesting and playing into a colour theme!

putting it below the cut as its a long post and I on't want to overtake everyones dashes! Enjoy!

We start off with Athena in this pale pink high neck ribbed sweater with large bell sleeves. I've spoken a fair amount about pale pink over the last couple of seasons of costume metas and how, in clothes its representative of childish and immature behaviours or thoughts. That holds true here - the pale pink is playing into Athena's childhood - when she developed her fear of cruise ships - its creating a connection between her childhood experiences and the woman sitting in Franks office.

We get a flashback that shows her in yellow and orange - the yellow for communication and the orange for transformation. A literal moment where we see Athena transform from the innocence of youth to her developing anxiety and fear around cruise ships. Its really clever visual storytelling connecting adult with child and shows us her fear is genuine and founded in something that she may not have been able to articualte fully as a child, but she can as an adult, even if she doesn't actually articulate it to Bobby.

Our next non uniform costume is Chimney. The lighting is really low in this scene, so it's kind of hard to be 100% sure of the colouring, but he seems to be wearing either a dark navy or black button up shirt under a dark green and black bomber jacket. The use of really dark green in combination with black, Back is a colour that can be about hiding ones vulnerabilities - concealment and masking, but it is also a colour associated with magic (generally dark magic) as well as pessimism. The green is growth and renewal, and the hope for a better future. to use them in combination i this way is playing on Chimneys insecurites and fears, his desire to keep the 'magic' alive in his relationship with Maddie, but it also speaks to his growth, that he goes home and talks to her about it (even if he does come up with an insane plan to 'date forever').

Eddie in the locker room - aside from being shirtless for much of it and pulling some epically good faces - was a super interesting costume choice. Especially the use of his watch! first though - Denim shirt time! We don't actually see Eddie in a denim shirt all that often and we've seen him in the super washed out one far more than dark denim shirts. I've been laughing a little bit at a few people (on twitter mostly) claiming its the same shirt he was wearing at the hospital during and after Bucks coma and it being a play on bringing Buck back to life. While I like the theory, its actually a very different shirt - the one in the hospital was black with a grey wash out and was made of velveteen - so different colour and fabric.

This shirt, is however one we have actually seen Eddie wear before and its far more telling than if it were the hospital shirt. You need to bear in mind that this scene is about Buck and Eddies respective girlfriends (or lack there of) and the fact that Christopher has a girlfriend now as well. This shirt is the same shirt Edie was wearing when he (re)introduced Ana to Chris in 4x08 (breaking point my beloved! the gift that keeps on giving!) and this puts a conversation about Marisol and things going well with her into the same category as Ana - suggesting she is ultimately destined for the same fate as Ana. the other thing that plays into this narrative is the use of the watch.

Eddie does not put the Christopher watch on until after he has found out that Buck has broken up with Natalia - so during the entire conversation about their respective girlfriends, he is only holding the Christopher watch, rather than wearing it.

In the picture below from 4x08 you can see that Eddie is wearing his black 'work' watch rather than the brown strapped 'Christopher' watch. Remember that the first time we see the Christopher watch is when he goes for his first date with Ana in Jinx, so he already has this watch and in theory should be wearing it in this scene. The fact he isn't is pretty telling and I'll go into that a bit more later when we get to Chris's (and Eddies) date scene.

Then we have Buck in his outfit of many colours! The white trainers, continue to play into my theory of Buck wearing them when he is in key points on his journey to discover his self - her it is about showing his growth - that he ended the relationship with Natalia - this is a massive thing when we saw how long it took for him to end things with Taylor - The man who clings is growing and getting out before it drags him down!

The jacket is similar in style to many of the ones we've seen him wearing in season 5 and 6, but this one is much brighter and more colourful. I know I go on about white meaning bad things for Buck, but that isn't relevant here - the white bad things happen to Buck theory is much more about t-shirts, jumpers and shirts rather than jackets - its an under-layer rather than a top layer that = danger. So i'm not thinking of its relevance here for this scene. What I am going to say is that this (according to my spreadsheet!) is the first time we've seen Buck in a white jacket of any description. To me, it's playing into the idea of purity and rebirth which is what white is often associated with. This plays into the comment Eddie makes welcoming Buck back to 'the land of the living' but also implies that Buck is starting a new chapter and making a fresh start - the check patterning suggests it might not all be plain sailing though.

The check pattern is an interesting one, obviously check pattern theory comes into play here, but whether its only in relation to the reveal that he split with Natalia, or if its also foreshadowing Buck getting himself into danger/trouble down the line, remains to be seen.

I'm going to quote myself again because I did predict that this scene may be about his relationship with Natalia when we got the stills dropped - the costume department never let us down!

The only thing I can do is scream into the void about check theory because check does't bode well for people - they always end up in the middle of the drama (see my check theory posts linked on my pinned post for more) and while they come out the other side (99% of the time) Buck in check for that scene in 6x18 pretty much doomed his relationship with Natalia (its specific to her and not C&K's baby as Buck wasn't wearing it when he delivered it!) and as that shirt in the still is very un Buck like, has not only yellow ochre in it, but also its a white base (and we all know buck in white is a bad sign!!) and its check patterned - my theory is that this scene is connected to Natalia in some way - either Buck is not being true to him self in more than one way - that things are going to/have come to a head for their relationship (my kingdom for a reverse of Buck to Eddie about Ana in 5x03!!!) and lead to a pretty big change in some way (fingers crossed for Buck to end it and then finally break down and deal with his trauma!!!) Some other things about that shirt - the colour combination - the green blue and yellow ochre are giving me call backs to coma Buck (another reason I think it might be connected to Bucks unresolved trauma around his death and Eddies absense in his dream)

In the quote above, I was also referring to the blue and white check pattern shirt he was wearing when he and Natalia got together, but there was also the fact that in the balcony scene at the end of 6x18, we also saw her in one of Bucks white shirts. I wrote in my 6x18 meta about how those two things combined didn't bode well for that relationship going forward, and thats what leaves me unsure about the check pattern on this white jacket being purely about something that has already happened. If I put my Buddie goggles on, I would perhaps suggest that the troubled times ahead may be more connected to Buck and Eddies relationship, and this would fit in with a couple of the things Oliver and Ryan have said. The thing with check theory though, is that generally speaking if it's on one of the mains, they come out the other side of the dram/trauma stronger than before. So if it is connected to Buck and Eddies relationship, then we can expect it to be in an even stronger position on the other side of whatever goes down (and at this point you can't strengthen their relationship any further and keep them as just friends imo!)

Chimneys forever dating proposal to Maddie, connects with his outfit when he's talking to Hen - it's the same jeans and black shirt, so the meanings of black, can be continued on into this scene - the idea of magic and hiding his vulnerabilities. The addition of the jacket with this brickwork pattern in its weave is a fun choice, it's playing into the idea of building something, but also plays into the idea that Chimney has his walls up - again fitting in with the black meaning of hiding his vulnerabilities - because instead of expressing his fears to Maddie ad then them talking it thorough, he comes up with his insane forever dating concept. the fact that much of this scene is a contrasting parallel with the scene from season 1 when he is pretending to be someone else entirely for Tatiana all ties in perfectly with this costume. The fact that he reverts to wearing blue (ran out of picture spaces so I couldn't include one) later on - when he's realised his plan isn't realistic, talks to Maddie and they end up back on the same page is really good to see - the blue being a signature Chimney colour and is indicative of him being true to himself.

Bobbys blue suit and blue check patterned shirt. The brightness of the blue is a really important choice - it's the only time we see him this brightly coloured on the cruise until he ends up in the bright red at the end. This is important because this is the moment when he's still all excited and hopeful for his honeymoon cruise - everything is good in Bobby's world at this moment in time - the check pattern is telling us that it's not going to stay that way for long. From her on out we see the colours of Bobby's costumes slowly beginning to dull and take on a washed out tone, but here in this moment all is good.

Athena's bright yellow dress is all about making her stand out - communicating with the audience, she is the brightest person in the room (in more ways than one!!). The thing with yellow, apart from the communication aspect, is that it can also be a symbol of anxiety and fear, so this dress plays rather nicely into the theme of Athenas fear of being on that ship.

The colour does have other good traits too - its fresh and bright and is a colour of happiness in its more jewel like tones and I think we can see all of these meanings in these scenes - Athena might be anxious about being on the ship, but she is also happy and enjoying herself with Bobby in that moment.

Lola and Norman. Lola is the one we need to focus on in her very bright very check patterned Victoria Beckham dress. Obviously the check pattern plays into check pattern theory, but the red also acts like a neon sign to the audience - highlighting that Lola is in danger - the ga won't pick up on check theory, although they might connect the dots about the fact this check patterning looks very like a cage - foreshadowing her being held captive later on, but also as a nod to the fact she was incarcerated previously.

The red is also a nod towards romance and love - playing into the rekindling of their relationship and romance in the aftermath of the freeway 'see me Norman' incident.

Ok so Christophers date night and by extension Eddies date night! This is where this meta is goingto get a bit messy and I'm goingto jump around a bit becasue I need to talk about the way colour theory is at play in all the scenes in Christophers bedroom, so we're going to talk about Christophers bedroom as one big thing rather than the two separate scenes that it actually is. They are extensions of one another and build on so much of the groundwork we've already seen in previous seasons.

Chris in plaid check yellow and red check plays perfectly into check pattern theory - it’s a signifier that something is about to go down with him - namely that the fact he’s dating multiple girls at the same time.

He’s also wearing a white shirt which is not a colour we see on him all that often - in fact, the only times we’ve seen him in a completely white shirt is with his suit in 5x01 when suit shopping and again in 6x08 for his school dance. He did wear a white vest when dressed as wolverine for halloween So as you can see its not a common colour for him, but the times have seen him wear it as a solid colour have been connected to school/girls and dating (i’m including the suit shopping in this because Ana was there and it was kind of a Eddie and Ana date of sorts - in that it was suppose to be for this Christening - meet the family - date type thing).

The most interesting thing is the plaid hooded shirt though. It was such an interesting choice to go with for a couple of reasons. the colour way is especially loud - we tend to see Chris wearing greens and blues and greys, with the odd other colour thrown in occasionally. So red and yellow are not common colours for him to be wearing.

On the red front we see him in it a couple of times - the adapted skateboarding scene and the scene in 4x10 when he joins Eddie and Ana on the sofa - getting in the way of their date night. We do also see him wear red in Christmas related episodes (so I don’t tend to count them in the same way as the Christmas colour theming will nearly always override any other colour theming intention - the use of stripes or check or other patterning is more important in those episodes!).

On the yellow front things are even more clear cut - the Tsunami arc, the aftermath of him falling off the skateboard, Mays graduation party and 5x03’s Eddie Ana break up! These (apart from the tsunami shirt) were all bright almost neon yellow.

This new plaid shirt is more into the yellow ochre part of the yellow spectrum, therefore tying much more to the tsunami arc, which is actually really fitting if you think about it in a little more detail - its a connection, not only to Buck, but also to loss and grief. Eddie might have been using his secret weapon (Chris) to get Buck out of his moping (read mourning) over not being able to go back to work, but Christopher is also still grieving the loss of his mother at that point as well, so its not just about cheering Buck up, its also about giving Chris a chance to do something fun and distract him from his own grief. That is why the use of yellow then ties in so nicely with its use on Chris now.

The other thing that really grabbed my attention about this shirt though is the fact that the two times we’ve seen Buck have a conversation with Chris in his bedroom, he has sat in the same spot and has been wearing one of those two colours - post shooting in maroon and this episode in the yellow ochre - if you watch those two scenes side by side, you see that they’ve used almost identical camera angles as well to film Buck.

I've spoken a lot about the use of maroon as a colour connected to parenthood - especially fatherhood , which is how its intended to be read on Buck - connecting to Eddie and his being shot, pushing Buck into a parental role in Eddies absence.

That alone is a pretty loud reference to Christophers connection and relationship to Buck, but then we have the yellow ochre of it all.

I feel a little bit insane about how close my prediction was on what the Buck Christopher scene was going to be about - this is from the meta I wrote when t he stills dropped;

Whatever this scene transpires being about, based on what we've seen with Buck wearing yellow ochre, we can assume its going to continue to play into this idea of Buck not being fully truthful with people and fitting into the role he thinks people want him to pay rather than being true to himself. I do want to add to this theory by looking at Christophers shirt as well. The grey/ yellow combination is a bit reminiscent of Breaking point (the episode that really is the gift that keeps on giving) because we get Chris in grey and Eddie in tan - that is yellowish toned whilst not actually being yellow There isn't a good screenshot of them together, but the placing of Chris and Buck in the new one has echoes of Eddie and Chris in that scene (one that is interestingly enough playing into the idea of changing family dynamics, but also the moment before and the one that happens afterwards at Bucks loft, directly placing Buck into a parental role (as an aside the idea of Buck being a miracle worker plays into the theme of Eddie looking for magic, just saying!))

Indirectly this scene was about Buck not being true to himself with people and fitting into whatever role he thinks people want him to fit into, only this wasn't an active situation - this was a scene where Buck could draw on his experience of having done that in the past to help Christopher - the line from Eddie 'you didn't end up being like you' is such a call to this and actually shows how valuable Bucks own experiences and learnings are in helping Chris (we've all been joking about Eddie choosing Buck to help him with this Chris's issue, but in actual fact he was the perfect person for the job - not just because of his being a 'reformed player', but also because of his relationship with death and the death of a loved one where you are reliant on others for their memories of a person rather than having your own)

The thing with the Yellow ochre (this meta here that i've already quoted from above is the place to go if you'd like more detail on its use on Buck more widely) isn't just its about it's connection to Buck, his place in Christopher's life and more loosely to the will of it all, (the fact that Buck and Eddie are both wearing the same colour ways as in the hospital bed will reveal scene and are both on the same sides of the screen in both scenes is a stroke of genius and is meant to connect these two scenes together) its also its connection to Shannon.

The first time we meet Shannon, she sits on Christophers bed in more or less the same position as we see Buck and Eddie sit, and looks at where Christopher has been positioned in all these conversations, and she is wearing a burnt orange top thats pretty close to the dark yellow ochre we see Buck wearing. Shannon wears a lot of yellow - as in it there are only a couple of times we don't see her wearing something yellow or with yellow in it and those are key scenes (which I will talk about later on).

Shannons appearance in Christophers room to read the letter she wrote him had her in this black top with a floral patterning on it. She was also wearing green trousers (which can be seen in the still below but aren't actually seen during the scene.

I actually really loved the green trousers and black top as a choice because the top is very Shannon - it sits perfectly with the floral patterns we saw her wearing when she was still alive. The green trousers are a bit of a departure for her, but I think its very intentional for two reasons .

The first is that they are very much in the Eddie trousers wheelhouse, especially in combination with black - he wears green khaki trousers a lot. The inference being that the black and green combination is an echo of Eddie.

The second ties to Christopher. Green is also a colour we've seen on Christopher a lot, it's probably the colour we see him in most. It's being used as a reflection of the fact he is growing and transitioning from child to teenager. But having it here in this scene - on Shannon connects a Christopher growing up without his mom.

Both of these combined really connect into Shannon in this scene, tying the three of them together and on Eddies efforts to keep her alive for Christopher - the underlying implication that his growth into who he is so far is as much to do with Shannon as it is to do with Eddie.

Her necklaces were not identical to the ones we saw her in in season 2, but that's most likely because they don't have them any longer, so they've replicated them as best as they can. The other little nod that I enjoyed is the brown bracelets on her right wrist - the same place Eddie wears his brown strapped Christopher watch!

But the top they have her in plays into a couple of other things - the prominent yellow flowers make an obvious connection to Buck from the previous scene, but they also tie into the 'I want a divorce' scene from 2x17 where she is wearing a dark blue dress with bright yellow ochre flowers all over it. the dress is not especially close to the top in the wider sense - blue dress with white squares v black top with florals in a variety of colours, but the yellow flowers are the prominent aspect of both items of clothing and play into the yellow theme connected to Shannon and then to Buck.

This is espeically relevant when you remember that Eddie is in a black suit in that scene and he's wearing black when he gives the letter to Christopher.

The black for this sequence of scenes is such a poignant choice - its Eddie mourning all over again, not for his loss, but for Christophers loss. I did find it telling that again in this scene, we have the absence of the Christopher watch. Eddie has very rarely not been wearing a watch in his scenes, so the times when we don't see him wearing one are very telling.

For me, in this sequence of scenes, it's about the fact that they are not about Eddies relationship with Christopher, but about Shannons relationship with Christopher. The watch is much more about Eddie and Christopher, so to have it absent from this story arc makes total sense and is symbolic of Eddie being a good father

Then we have Christophers grey shirt - I said when we first got the stills from that scene, how it was likely to be connected to complex family relationships - a la when we’ve seen Buck wearing his grey shirt. And what do you know - the scene was about complex family dynamics/ relationships.

It wasn’t perhaps in the manner I was expecting, but that series of scenes played with the full scope of Chris’s complex family relationships - from the relationship he has with Buck -not only as Christophers friend, but also as more or less Eddies co-parent (the way Eddie asked for Bucks help screamed co-parent rather than friend imo - that whole burnt out car scene was two co-parents discussing their child!) to the relationship he has with his dad - which is a pretty great relationship, but it is a complex one.

The relationship he has with his mom - or the fact he feels he doesn’t have a relationship with her despite Eddies best efforts, because as he grows up she feels further and further away.

Eddies 'date' night with Marisol. Again I ran out of pictures (30 is not enough!) so you're going to have to use your imagination or go back and rewatch the scene for yourselves, but trust me when I say that Eddie is wearing the same shirt he was wearing for this date night as he was in 4x10 - when Christopher interrupts because he can't sleep!

It's also a similar tee to the one Eddie wears when he has his breakdown and trashes his room (that one was more green when this one is much browner). Its slouchy and has cut and stretched raw edges at the sleeves and on the pocket - in the same way his breakdown shirt did. there is an element of being in familiar surroundings and being comfortable at home, but stretched out raw edges and Eddie generally tend to mean not so great things.

Of course there is the element of his parenting skills being tested by Christophers having more than one girlfriend, but if that where the only reason, then it would've made more sense to have him in that shirt when he's listening in to Chris talking to Buck, rather than when he's on a date with a new girlfriend.

This is especially true as the screen time for that tee has more connection with Marisol than it does with Chris. Combined with the fact that once again, like in the locker room scene, he is not wearing his Christopher watch in this scene and that speaks volumes.

If we are to read the scene as being about Christopher soley, he should be wearing his watch because that watch is a physical embodiment of the importance of Christopher in Eddies life - that he puts Christopher first in all things.

Got to say I was a bit shocked to see Marisol in his bright magenta silk spaghetti strap top when you consider the costumes we saw her in last season - mostly dressed down, t-shirts, jumpers and dungarees so this is a complete 180 for her character.

There are a few interesting things connected to her outfit, firstly it low key ties into Natalia - we saw Natalia in a red version of this top for her first proper onscreen date with Buck (when they go to the badge and ladder joint) so there is an interesting low key parallel to draw there. There is also the fact that her bracelet is a chain one - much like we've seen on all of Buck and Eddies previous girlfriends - although those have been necklaces, so I'm undecided if this chain bracelet is paying into the same trope as those.

Then there is the pink of it all.

You see Eddie and Pink on his girlfriends doesn't bode well for Marisol.

Both Shannon and Ana wore pink. Ana wore it a lot - there are two examples below, but generally speaking its her most commonly worn colour - including on her first date with Eddie in Jinx.

The first example below is from the first time we see her in the Diaz house. the shades are different, but the fact that the first time we see both characters in the Diaz house they're both wearing pink, speaks volumes.

The other key use of Pink is when Shannon is at the beach with Eddie and Christopher and she tells Eddie she's pregnant - Eddie takes it as the sign he has been looking for - the chance to effectively start over with their marriage, but this is the beginning of the end for their relationship, even if she hadn't died a short while later. She is wearing pale pink in that scene and it's the only time we see her wear the colour in the show.

The fact we can also contrast the use of pink with when Buck wears it is telling in its own right - we see the relationship between Buck and Eddie strengthening when Buck wears pink - May's graduation party, the tsunami, the Hildy coffee machine - all moments (big and small) that show the development of various aspects of their relationship and its ability to endure.

Essentially all this use of pink on the women he has had previous relationships with, doesn't bode well for Marisol and the longevity of her relationship with Eddie. How quickly it will end I can't say, just that it will end.

I spoke earlier in this post about colour theming for the episode and this is where I talk about it!

Pink - and in particular the very bright pinks we saw scattered across the episode. Marisol above wearing it, isn't just about connecting her to Ana in costume terms (especially as at this point that costume is a departure of her costumes from s6) it also connects her to the other characters we see wearing bright pink in this episode - Lola and Norman.

At this point in time I'm not sure if we're going to see it play out as a theme across the season, but its use in this episode was very loud on characters that are going to be around for more than 1 episode. It suggests that there is some underlying theme that connects them (by this I don't mean that they're gonna meet and hang out I mean that personality traits are going to be similar)

Magenta and bright pink in colour theory means a few different things, and like with all colours, has positive and negative traits. Generally speaking its a loud and brash colour thats designed to stand out and draw attention to it's wearer.

Things that are considered positive traits for this shade of pink are; intensity, acceptance, kindness and it's supportive and uplifting nature. It's connected to naive love (as in lust rather than the passionate and enduring love of red) can also be considered a nurturing colour.

Negative traits are; intensity, volatility, arrogant and impatient, irritability and irritating and frustration. it is also said to be a stress inducing colour and is said to be overly emotional.

Theres a clear and fairly loud connection between Lola and Norman getting into danger - Lola is in magenta trousers when she is kidnaped. Norman also has bright magenta flowers on his shirt at this point as well. My guess at this point is that we're supposed to lean into the stress inducing element, and also the irritating nature of the colour (On Athenas part at the very least!) and we'll see if those are the themes that play out for Marisol as well down the line.

Norman is in bright pink when he's lying and claiming she's unwell from being outside or too long. We also see that he is wearing pink in the ditsy print shirt later on (again I ran out of picture spaces!)

Athena's black top in this scene is much like the use of Chimney in black in his scenes. It's all about power and authority but it's also about her hiding her vulnerabilities. The other thing it does is creates a huge contrast with Bobby and all of the other passengers - she is the only one in black in the scene and it contrasts her with the underlying white of Bobbys shirt - juxtaposing them and visually putting them at odd with one another.

Like I said above about him becoming increasingly pale - here we see Bobby in a sea-foam green shirt - its the palest and washed out colour we've seen him in on this cruise (grey pyjama shirt not being included as its blink and you miss it and a pyjama tee!!!). Sea-foam green doesn't really play into the traditional meanings of green - there is still the element of renewal about it (the sea washes the sand etc)but its mostly a self-conscious and uncertain colour - both things that perfectly sum up how Bobby is feeling in this moment.

The other fun thing about this outfit is the palm tree shorts the patterns Bobby has worn in relation to this cruise, up to this point (and that includes the shirts from season 6) have all been tropical themed but on his shirts, the fact that they've now slipped down onto his shorts is a visual representation of him becoming increasingly dissatisfied with the way his honeymoon is going - that the tropical vacation vibes are slipping away.

Athenas red and white shirt, in my opinion is showing her cross purposes - its the duality of investigating and being on a cruise in a shirt. The bright red ties into the red and blue first responder colour way the show uses (for obvious reasons) while the white and the palm fronds, the lei flowers and the watery theming of the pattern fit into the troipical cruise they're on.

Bobbys red shirt contrasts with the lavender that we see on Athena - its not a colour we see on Bobby all that often and that makes its use all the more important. Especially considering the entire cruise thus far we've seen him in blues and greens - especially pale closer to pastel tones.

This red is bright snd bold and unlike his usual choices. Red is a colour of cross meaning - there is obviously the connection with love and the heart, which is absolutely at play her - his love for Athena is spurring him on and is part of what is pushing him in to investigator Bobby mode - and its representation of love is what is going to be the key player in the up coming episodes on the ship - when he is looking for Athena during the evacuation etc. But the other meaning of red is war, courage and anger and that is very much present here in this episode, and will (i'm assuming) be later on in 7x02 and 3.

The other thing I think its worth pointing out at this point (which is pure conjecture on my part at this moment in time but that I think will become relevant in the next two episodes rather than this one) is the foreshadowed parallel with Buck in season 5 when he broke down Eddies door. The bright red we saw him wearing then was an uncommon colour for him, in the same way it is for Bobby here. It's paralleling the way Buck was prepared to go into battle for Eddie, with the way Bobby is prepared to do so for Athena - going to war for your closest person, your loved one and doing what you need to do to save them.

Putting Athena in lavender the moment she gets to go into cop mode was a choice that had me giggling! Lavender is a colour of relaxation and order so for her to start wearing it the moment she gets to start being a cop again - speaks volumes for her state of being - it shows that her fear of being on the cruise ship and of being alone with bobby, has been overridden by her need to do her job and start investigating things. Its the perfect colour for this moment and for the impeding trouble brewing on the ship - Athena will bring order to things as order has been restored to her inner world.

Hopefully you've enjoyed this little canter through the costumes of 7x01 we're back in business and I can't wait to read your comments in the tags and comments 🥰

Tagging for those who've asked to be tagged - drop me a comment on this post if you'd like to be added to the list for the next meta 😎

@theladyyavilee @mistmarauder @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mandzuking17 @spotsandsocks @loveyou2thecore @wanderingwomanwondering @oneawkwardcookie @leothil @copyninjabuckley @nathleigh @shammers86 @crazyfangirlallert @missmagooglie @inandoutoffocus @katyobsesses @radiation-run @gayandbifiremenofmine @lemotmo @bi-moonlight @satvojihusana @crazyaboutotps @princesschez75 @mongreloer @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @sherlocking-out-loud

#911 abc #I hope you enjoy!#its good to be back #I can't remember my costume tags 😂#911 costume meta #season 7 #s7 costumes #7x01 #Kym costume meta #Kym colour theory #911 costumes #long post #the costume department never fails #still feeling feral about so much of the stuff I got right and the new stufff I've spotted

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entwinedmoon · 1 month

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This month is the 40th anniversary of John Torrington’s exhumation and autopsy. I’ve been doing real-time daily updates over on this post to show just how long and drawn out the process was. It took over a week, starting from when Beattie arrived on Beechey to when they first started digging to when they finally got the coffin open. Right now, those updates are in a bit of a lull because, after they dug down to the coffin, they had to wait for permits to move onto the next part, so there won’t be another Daily Torrington Dig update until August 17.

While we’re waiting for Beattie to get his permits to crack open a cold one (Torrington’s coffin) with the boys (his scientific research team), you can check out my Torrington blog posts to keep the spirit of the season going. The posts Sacred to the Memory of and A Star Is Born would be especially applicable right now as they explore Torrington’s death, exhumation, autopsy, and the media’s response to the photographs of his well-preserved body.

But there’s something else I wanted to share here, another type of media response that I’ve known about (and had a copy of) for a while. I shared it years ago on Twitter, thinking it would get a laugh there, but that was, er, not the reaction I received, so I’d held off on sharing it anywhere else because I thought most people would find it inappropriate. However, I was reminded recently by a friend (don’t know if they want to be tagged here or not, so I’ll go with not) about the existence of this particular piece, and I realized that this might be something that would be more appreciated here on Tumblr, where we like to photoshop Torrington’s corpse into memes, ship him with the guy he’s buried next to, and want to see what he would think of Takis and flavored vapes.

The article I’m referring to is the story about Torrington that appeared in the Weekly World News.

If you’re not familiar with the Weekly World News, it was a notorious tabloid that made up absurd stories and pretended it was real news. Some news stories were actually true—so it wasn’t completely like today’s The Onion—but there were also plenty of clearly fictional articles, featuring bizarre, often supernatural stories, such as Elvis sightings, a double-decker bus mysteriously found at the South Pole (“scientists” claimed aliens did it), or Bat Boy, a boy who was part bat, part boy.

Torrington’s level of fame within the cultural consciousness of the time meant that he, too, got to experience the tabloid treatment.

(CW: pictures of Torrington’s mummified body beneath the cut)

Published on March 3, 1992, was this front-page story:

Man buried in 1845 brought back to life!

Sailor’s coffin frozen in arctic ice 147 years!

Hush-hush new drug revives corpse, say doctors!

Yes, according to the Weekly World News, John Torrington was brought back to life in 1992. There’s even a full article all about how it happened.

MAN FROZEN SINCE 1845 BROUGHT BACK TO LIFE!

Scientists revive seaman trapped in ice 147 years!

Sailor back from the dead still thinks James K. Polk is President of the U.S.!

By Cal Sanders, Special Correspondent

The perfectly preserved corpse of a British sailor who was buried in an icy grave after he died on an Arctic expedition in 1845 has been revived by scientists—147 years later!

And while Petty Officer John Torrington’s health is fragile at best, the team of doctors who illegally plucked him from his grave and brought him back to life say he is aware of his surroundings, walking with help and might very well be able to lead a normal life “if this man has the psychological strength to adapt to the 20th century.”

“It’s hard to believe but this man thinks James K. Polk is President of the United States and insists that horses and sailing ships are the best and fastest ways to travel,” Dr. Hermann Richter said in his report on the experiment that brought Torrington back to life.

“Electric lights literally scare the hell out of him and to be perfectly frank about it, he hasn’t quite decided if he’s dead or alive. About the best we can do at this point is take his recovery one day at a time.

“If Torrington survives we will have produced a living piece of history. If he dies, at least we’ll be able to say that we tried to do something that might ultimately have benefited all mankind.”

The decision to steal Torrington’s corpse from its grave in northern Canada couldn’t have come easy for the Richter team, which issued its report to selected European newspapers “from an undisclosed clinic in Germany.”

For starters, the young man’s grave has stood as an unofficial monument to the courage and determination of 128 adventurers led by British explorer Sir John Franklin—adventurers who gave up their lives to chart the last 300-mile-leg of the treacherous Northwest Passage between 1845 and 1848. Torrington’s body was exhumed once before, in 1983, but it was carefully reburied after scientists took a small tissue sample to determine the cause of death. As it turned out, Torrington died from lead poisoning after eating provisions out of tins that were sealed with the dangerous and often lethal metal. Needless to say, news that Richter and his associates secretly exhumed the body a second time, smuggled it into Germany and succeeded in bringing it back to life have infuriated many experts, some of whom consider the theft of the body criminal. Richter himself insisted that Torrington is in good hands and will be free to go when he is strong enough.

The doctor went on the say that he understands why the experiment might sound extreme to some people but he believes that the revival of Torrington “furthered the best interests of medicine and science.” Richter’s report did not include any of the techniques that were used to revive Torrington but it did mention “an exciting new drug” that might one day make such revivals routine.

Because he died of lead poisoning, it is also believed that Richter and his team somehow cleansed Torrington’s tissue of the deadly metal before bringing him back to life. For the record, Torrington was a man of 20 when he died. Now he looks like a man of 80, photos supplied by Richter show.

“A century and a half of death is enough to age anyone,” said Richter.

There’s a lot to unpack here—the morally dubious German doctor with a mysterious, Frankenstein-esque resurrection method; the burial and exhumation dates both being off by one year for some reason; the short, skinny guy in the obvious bald cap that they thought would pass as Torrington; and so much more. Interestingly, a lot of the article seems to focus more on how scandalous it is that Dr. Richter stole Torrington’s body, as if the writer thought that the revival of a long-dead corpse wasn’t enough of a scoop. Also, I’m not sure if Torrington would even have been aware that Polk was president in 1845—was he the sort of guy who paid attention to international politics? Wouldn’t it have made more sense for him to think Victoria was still queen?

Many people might be offended by such an article, but the Weekly World News never cared about who they offended. Unsurprisingly, one of those who did take umbrage with the story was Dr. Owen Beattie.

In a short article in the Times-Colonist Metro about a week after the Weekly World News story ran, we got to hear Owen Beattie’s reaction.

HEE-(T)HAW . . . It was standard checkout rag fare. “Man Buried in 1845 brought back to life” shouted a recent front page of Weekly World News. “Hush-Hush New Drug Revives Corpse,” it continued.

These startling revelations bore some significance for both the wax museum’s Ken Lane and University of Alberta anthropologist Owen Beattie. The man purportedly thawed like last night’s dinner was John Torrington, one of three sailors from the Franklin expedition buried on Beechy [sic] Island. The Franklin expedition—and John Torrington—feature large in the wax museum’s arresting Frozen in Time expedition. Torrington’s body was exhumed from its Arctic grave in ’84 by Dr. Beattie, who determined death was from lead poisoning.

Neither Ken nor the anthropologist felt their respective professional worlds crumbled with the News article. (It ran with a photo of an emaciated looking chap being assisted by doctors and reports that Torrington is terrified of electric lights, still believes Polk is the U.S. president, and horses are the only way to go.) Ken shrugged it off with a what-can-you-expect-from-a-checkout-rag laugh. The anthropologist wasn’t quite so forgiving.

He refused to comment on it at all, insisting that his research speaks for itself. Apparently John Torrington was quite dead when he was exhumed and equally so when buried after the autopsy. But then that’s not the sort of stuff that sells check-out rags.

While it’s perfectly understandable that Beattie would not appreciate something like the Weekly World News’ fake story, what I find most interesting about this snippet is that there was a wax museum with a Franklin Expedition exhibit that included Torrington??? Does that mean there was a Torrington wax figure???? Where is it now????? Can I buy it?????????

These very important questions aside, it’s fascinating to see that Torrington was well known enough to make it into a “checkout rag.” Maybe it’s not the legacy he would have wanted, but at least it’s worth a good laugh.

#john torrington #franklin expedition

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thebibliosphere · 2 years

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It’s been a while since I fever dreamed the plot to something, but I just woke up from a literal fever dream set in a futuristic version of New York where Tom Hiddleston and his pet cyborg owl are entrenched in a spy thriller buddy-cop narrative, only to get swept up in the conflicting heartfelt rom-com narrative of Dakota Johnson who, after a series of unfortunate breakups, has sworn off love and committed herself heart and soul to her job as a curator at Futuristic Met Museum. This is much to the distress of her weed smoking, shroom taking trans lesbian mothers and their elderly dog, Jeff, who just want her to find happiness and love.

As part of his cover, Tom and his cyborg owl, Frank, move into the same apartment where he’ll be staying for several months while he plans to steal a diamond from the Met. I think if you held it up to the light it would project nuclear launch codes that’d been etched onto it. Don’t ask me, my brain was more focused on making the cyborg owl into the wise-cracking comic relief. It kept saying things like “wow Tom, you really are a jack of owl trades” or “don’t worry, Tom, owl always love you.”

The pair meet in the lobby where Tom manages to piss off Dakota by not holding the elevator for her while she is carrying heavy boxes. The apartment building, however, is old and shitty, and he gets stuck in the elevator, requiring him to be rescued by one of Dakota’s mothers who also happens to be the super. Dakota huffs her way out the stairwell just in time to hear her mother inviting the “nice British man” to dinner, much to her chagrin as she realizes that her mom is trying to set her up with the asshole and the cyborg owl that sits on his shoulder like a parrot.

Tom, who finds out she works for the met over said dinner, decides to go along with it as he realizes she’d be the perfect cover to get into the Met Museum for an upcoming gala event—not to mention the perfect person to take the fall for his theft—and begins wooing her relentlessly, assuring Frank, the cyborg owl, that it’s all just part of the mission.

Eventually, the pair fall for each other for realzies, and Tom is conflicted over using her to steal the diamond but his time is running out because we also find out he went rogue for a while after his partner died and was using his skills to work freelance for an international crime syndicate and now the mob is after him?????

Anyway, he’s about to confess all to her on the night of the gala when she gets a phone call from her moms letting her know that their elderly dog, Jeff, is dying so the pair rush back to the apartment and take him to the nearest cyborg vet in the hopes of saving him. En route, the mob find them and start shooting at the flying car they’re in and it leads to a comedic shouting match between the pair along the lines of “what do you mean you’re an international spy and the mob are after you? Ugh, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this sooner! I told you everything about me!”

“Oh, yes, your embarrassing high school stories are exactly the same thing as divulging international secrets. Tell you what, after this let’s get a coffee and I can tell you some highly sensitive top secret information to even out the playing field.”

Anyway, Frank the cyborg owl manages to take out the mob car chasing them with a grenade (????!), and the pair get Jeff to the cyborg vet in time. The dream shifted after that to Dakota helping Tom to figure out how to break into the Met so he can get the diamond, not because she loves him and he helped save her childhood dog, but because she wants him gone. Tom accepts her help and storms off to his own apartment where Frank the cyborg owl is poignantly silent save to say “take some Tylenol”

“…what?”

“Wake up, you need Tylenol.”

Which is what sent me rocketing upright in bed, dizzy and dehydrated, pounding migraine headache, drenched in sweat and running what the thermometer tells me is a 102 fever.

Which brings us to now where I’m downing Tylenol in the dimly lit kitchen, guzzling water and typing this all up on my phone because there’s no way I’m going to remember all this in the morning but damn if it wasn’t a fun dream.

Anyway, shout out to Frank the cyborg owl for waking me up before my brain fried ✌️🦉. I’m going back to bed.

#I need a tag for my weird dreams #they happen infrequently but when they do they’re always bangers #long post #literal fever dream #thanks delayed reaction to the Covid shot…

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milesmolasses · 2 years

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I'm gonna kill you

miles morales x reader

if you don’t know what “throwing franks” means it basically means telling someone to “suck my dick” lmao

which reminds me the setting is nyc (bk)

is this what ppl call crack? idk man

"miles I'm not playin with you right now, put my water bottle down I'm thirsty!"

miles walked around the dingy restaurant, my bottle in his hand, which was waved high in the air. "you gon have to come and get it than miss smart mouth! you keep playin with me like I can't beat you up," he joked.

miles has been my best friend ever since the middle of third grade when he switched his elementary school. i remember when he was this tiny, shy kid who sat at the back of the school basement for lunchtime since our school never had a formal lunchroom. all i wanted was to make a new friend, so i walked up to the shy new boy and ate my lunch with him. we would walk home together, play at the park together, and have cute lil playdates scheduled by our mothers; ah, yes, those were the times; up until now.

"bro, my bad, just give me my water bottle my mouth is on fire, no funny shit," i had my tongue out, breathing heavily. my mom owns this restaurant, where she cooks (insert culture) dishes for the world of Brooklyn to enjoy. this space doubled as our hang-out spot, considering i would stop by every day after school for free food. my mom had served me (insert dish) with extra spice; "try something new," they said. "it'll be delicious," they said. while yes, the food was good, the new added spices had me steaming at the ears, tongue out, huffing and puffing like a damn dog.

now you may be wondering, "who the hell told you to do this?" miles. it was always miles. he knows I don't usually stray from the usual dishes that i get every time we come here, but somehow he convinced me that trying something new would be good for me. so, i let him order on my behalf; this dude ordered me (insert cultural food)… with 3x the amount of hot sauce I usually get. leading us to now...

"'my bad' is not an apology, bozo, i need to hear you say what i want you to say," he said with the biggest smile on his face. all i did was throw a frank at him, and he chose to torment me, saying, "i was disrespectful." he wants a sorry? imma give him a damn sorry.

"ok ok I'm sorry, miles please just give me the bottle," this time, my eyebrows were furrowed and i made sure to put my acting skills to the test. miles gave me a worried look, scared that he actually went too far this time in his games. he gave me back the water bottle and came closer to me, examining my face to see if i was ok.

"yo, you good? I'm sorry i didn't know it was that deep. here you go drink this," he looked so sorry. he looked like he really regretted what he did to me, it almost made me feel bad for what i was about to say to him.

almost...

"yeah, it was that deep... deep in ya momma!" i watched as miles face slowly converted from looking worried to "what did this bitch just say to me?" i started to run out of the store as fast as i could, chugging the water down my throat with my mouth still on fire. miles was definitely faster than me, so i decided to hide somewhere, anywhere.

i turned the corner, body jerking forward so fast i almost fell face first into the concrete. i caught myself on my hands just in time as i kept my momentum and ran down the block. i looked behind me and he was literally right there in arms reach of me literally, reaching his arm out to grab me. i grabbed the door handle of an unknown store and stumbled into it.

there i could see several women and young girls look up from what ever they were doing to look at me. just as they were looking at me, miles ran in the store and came to an abrupt stop. great now even more people were staring; it was then i realized all the assortments of nail polish laid out neatly on different shelves. oh my god it was a nail salon. miles looked down at me with eyes wide open and a look on his face that screamed "oh hell nah." a lady from the front desk with a slim figure and a headwrap, came up to us and pulled us to the side.

"I'm sorry, you cant just run into this store and be rowdy. we have customers to attend to and they don't need disturbances." i looked up at miles to see him already responding to the lady with prayer hands, "I an so sorry about my friend here please forgive them, sometimes they're a bit hard to control. i think we'll be leaving now, once again, so sorry," he responded whilst dragging me by the shirt to leave the salon. once we were on the side walk again, i busted out laughing so hard, i had to hunch over and close my eyes to keep tears from falling out.

miles gave me the biggest side eye known to man as i laughed in the middle of the street, looking around for people possibly staring at us.

"i swear to god I'm gonna kill you when i get to your house."

this was fun to write lmao

I was really just writing anything that came to mind

I did this once after 7th grade in the summer with some friends so that’s what I based this on

#miles morales #miles morales x reader #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spiderman #milesmolasses #itsv

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terry-perry · 2 months

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What if Carmine!Reader was the one who told Alastor that her mom killed the angel? 😯

Not part of the main storyline. Literally just a “What if…?” scenario.

"Waiting for someone?"

Alastor stiffened at the sound of your voice. He took his eyes off the egg creatures playing in the garbage and slowly turned his attention towards you. You were at his side, having just exited the building where the Overlord meeting was held. Normally your appearance was a welcoming one for Alastor, but in this case, it was nerve-racking as you came to him with a less-than-amused look on your face while dangling the whimpering egg he sent to spy on you from his little hand.

"Oh, hello dearest," Alastor did his best to maintain his composure. "I didn't wish to interrupt you, so I sent my little friend to -"

"Don't even start Alastor," you interrupted. "Your 'little friend' already told me you sent him to spy on us." When Alastor glared at the egg, you rolled your eyes some more. "Don't blame him. He was only there on your orders. It's not his fault he did a piss-poor job following them."

You let Frank go, and after falling to the ground with a harsh thud that thankfully didn't leave a crack, he scurried off to join the rest of the eggs bois while you and Alastor continued your discussion.

"Honey, I told you I needed a moment with my family," you chastised. "What made you think it was okay for you to eavesdrop? Do you not trust me?"

"Of course I do, sugar," Alastor cooed, taking your hand. "I'm sorry for taking drastic measures to invade your privacy, but you must admit your mother's reaction to that angel's head was out of character. I've never seen her so spooked or so quick to anger."

He was right to make that observation. Your mother was known for keeping a level head and not letting things affect her so much. She doesn't get surprised easily and always has a tight hold on her emotions. She said it herself that day, however: the last extermination was a brutal one and had many souls not only fear for their lives more but also left them to act on impulse.

She knew that firsthand.

"This last extermination really got to her," you began to explain. "It was a lot, and she's doing what she can to recover from it mentally and ensure nothing like it happens again."

“Understandable, of course, but I can’t say it didn’t hurt that you didn’t want me to join you in discussing everything that happened today. At the very least, I could’ve been there for Carmilla.”

You looked at him and arched a brow. You loved Alastor, but he wasn’t exactly the first demon one would go to for empathy. “Be there for her as she confirms what Velvette accused her of?”

He hummed and shrugged his shoulders, his soft smile growing with hints of his trademark smugness. “If that were to happen as well, who am I to not want to keep that personal information handy?"

There it was!

Again, you loved Alastor, but he wasn't exactly Prince Charming who did things out of the goodness of his heart. If he was going to be there for someone, he'd keep up with his illusion of being a gracious companion, but only if he knew it would benefit him. You've been with him long enough to tell the difference between his genuinely being there for someone and his sniffing out for what could be a deal in the making, and your mother dealing with today was an inappropriate time for the latter. That was why you told him to wait outside while you comforted her. He wouldn't have gone so far as to make a deal with your family, but this secret was perfect ammo for him to use for potential deals with others.

Suppose you could call his bluff and see how valuable this information was to him.

"Well, if you really wanna know, how about we make a deal?"

You concealed the giggle that wanted to burst out upon seeing how big his eyes got from hearing your words. "Excuse me?"

You reached over and patted his hand in an almost sympathetic manner. "I'm sorry for leaving you out of our discussion, especially since you are considered family now. But I knew you couldn't resist some juicy, advantageous gossip," you leaned forward, almost a kissing distance away from Alastor. You released a giggle this time when he slightly flinched away from you. It was plain to see how caught off-guard he was by how things took a turn. You found it quite cute how shaken up he was. "So now I'd like to know what you're willing to give to earn it."

He hesitated for another moment before he narrowed his eyes. He was the one to lurch forward this time, but you were more amused than scared as you reeled back from him. "I can't believe you'd go so far as to bait me, your partner, into making a deal with you, with intel that might not be as vital as we're making it out to be!"

He glared at you for a few more seconds, observing how smug you grew as you now had a hold of the situation.

His eyes softened then, having a warm glow to them, and his snarling smile grew into a happy grin as he grabbed ahold of you by the waist and pulled you towards him.

"I have never loved you more than I do now..."

#alastor x reader #alastor imagine #x reader #carmine!reader #au #alastor #alastor x you #alastor x oc #hazbin hotel #imagine #request #oneshot #drabble #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor

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amhrosina · 2 years

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Honey Come Home (Frank Castle x f!Reader)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

A/N: I think I wrote this super self indulgent piece because I was definitely wishing I had someone to come defend/save me when I was in a similar situation with a family member of mine. For all of my friends who are survivors of abuse, I love you, I'm proud of you, and Frank Castle would defend you with his life if he could!!!! (Also a huge thank you to @wheredidiputmyfish for beta reading :))) )

Summary: It's been years since Frank's heard from you, but the second you call and ask him for help, he hurries to defend you from your abusive and toxic boyfriend.

(Warnings: SUPER TRIGGER WARNING FOR DESCRIPTIONS OF ABUSE!!!!!, it's not directly spelled out but its alluded to and the aftermath is heavily discussed, canon typical frank stuff, descriptions of violence, frank goes all punisher on your shitty boyfriend, some PTSD, ex-best friends to lovers, references to frank and reader's past, angsty as hell, short lovey-dovey smut at the end, happy ending)

Frank woke with a start at the sound of his ringtone chiming from the front pocket of his backpack, tucked away and mostly forgotten about between the rare phone calls from Matt and Madani. It was so late in the evening that most people would consider it early in the morning. Whether it was late or early, it was certainly not a great time to be calling someone. Frank thought about pointing this out to whoever was waiting for him to pick up his phone, but his annoyance quickly faded as he read the name flashing across the screen.

A crack, deep down in his soul, ached as he read your name. It had been years since he’d spoken to you, and even longer since he’d seen you. The last time he’d spoken to you, he’d said some things he regretted, things that haunted him to this day, things that he’d never forgive himself for saying to you of all people.

There was a deep well of history between the two of you, and though Frank had been decent enough at pretending it didn’t exist, the memories pushed to the forefront of his mind, playing like a montage in an old movie. Stolen glances between chemistry equations in high school, the subtle press of Frank’s hand against your back when he’d walk you home from campus in college, the touches that lasted just a little too long to be considered friendly when he was on leave. You were his, and he was yours, though that wasn’t entirely true, either. The history he shared with you was a compilation of ‘almosts’ that were usually too painful to think about for longer than five seconds.

And now you were calling him. After three years of silence, you were calling him at this ungodly hour, and he was struggling to gain function in his brain, lungs, chest, fingers, entire being. If he didn’t answer soon, it would likely go to the voicemail that Frank had yet to set up even though it had been literal years since he bought the phone. The idea of potentially missing the sound of your voice after so long without it knocked a semblance of sense into him.

He clicked the screen and raised it to his ear, praying that this wasn’t someone’s idea of a cruel joke. The sound of your subdued, ragged breaths carried through the speaker and hit him directly in the chest. For a moment, Frank said nothing, afraid he would break whatever spell had convinced you to call him after so long. Then, because the thought of not hearing your voice was so unbearable, he murmured your name into the phone.

“Frank?”

You had whispered it, but it echoed loudly in Frank’s head. It wasn’t the voice of the confident, radiant person he’d known so many years before. His chest tightened, and he gripped the phone a little tighter as he murmured your name again.

“I didn’t think you’d answer.” You revealed, still whispering, but a little relieved.

“I’ll always answer if it’s you.” He blurted out, immediately cringing at his inability to filter his thoughts before they exited his mouth. “Are you okay?”

“Frank, I need your hel-.”

You were cut off by a crashing sound that made you yelp into the phone. Frank listened intently to the sound of your cries as someone pounded against a door nearby. Fear, anger, and unabashed love filled his chest until he couldn’t stand still any longer. He pressed the phone inbetween his cheek and shoulder, pulling on whatever articles of clothing were within reach.

“Frankie.” You pleaded, your voice so broken and cracked that Frank could barely breathe at the sound of it.

“I’m coming.” He murmured, pulling his boots on with fervor. “I’m coming, baby. Can you send me your location, sweetheart? Where are you?”

A buzz rattled against his cheek, and he swore when he read the address you’d sent. This whole time, for the years that he’d spent alone, miserable, and missing you, you were living less than twenty minutes away. A male shout in the background of your muffled cries fueled his anger even further.

“Who’s trying to hurt you, baby?” He was already exiting out the back of his building, running toward the storage facility that doubled as his garage.

“He’s my,” you paused, sniffling, “He was my boyfriend. He’s not anymore.”

“Do you have a weapon? Anything to protect yourself until I get there?” He clenched his jaw at the thought of you being hurt.

“I locked myself in the bathroom.” You whimpered as another sound crashed through the bathroom. “Please hurry.” You begged.

Frank’s jaw was so tightly clenched that he was surprised he hadn’t broken his teeth.

“I’m on my way, baby. I’ll be there soon. I promise.”

“He’s dangerous, Frank.” You warned, and Frank’s chest ached with the realization that you were worried about him when you were the one in danger.

“He’s not as dangerous as me.” Frank replied, clenching his fists.

Frank clambered into his truck and backed into the abandoned street. The navigation said he’d arrive in twenty-one minutes. Frank made it in ten.

“I’m around the corner, sweetheart. I’m almost there.” Frank was pushing ninety in his truck. “What’s he doing now?”

“He’s-” You started, and abruptly stopped.

“He’s what, baby?” Frank pushed the gas pedal all the way down.

A sudden crash sounded, and Frank held his breath. Then, you began screaming, and Frank saw red. He was out of the truck and hauling ass up the sidewalk to the old, ramshackle house faster than anyone should be physically able to move. The sound of your screams echoed through the phone, but the closer he got to the front door, the more he could hear it bellowing outside of the house.

He didn’t hesitate to kick the door down, instantly spying your hunched form as your dickhead ex-boyfriend tried to tug you out of the bathroom. Both turned to look at Frank as he took in his surroundings.

Your face, your beautiful and radiant and glowing face, was littered with cuts and bruises. The right side of your jaw was swollen and tinged in dark blue and black. A cut that swept across your top and bottom lip bled profusely onto the tile beneath you.

“What the fuck, man?”

Frank would kill him. Frank would tear him apart. He would–

“Frankie.” Your sigh of relief was melded with a guttural sob.

The very-soon-to-be-dead man swung around, eyeing you.

“This is who you called, you stupid bitch?” He rolled his eyes and squeezed the hand that was wrapped around your arm. A whimper left your lips, and it took everything in Frank not to murder the man right then and there. But he would not let you see that – the violence that he was capable of – the violence that tainted the blood on his hands, dooming him to a life without remorse.

“Take your fucking hands off her.” Frank demanded, stepping forward until he was towering over the man. The man eyed him warily but didn’t let go. Frank almost laughed at his idiocy. “You’re not gonna want to know what’s gonna happen if you don’t listen to me.”

The man dropped your arm, and you sagged to the ground, inching across the floor until you were behind Frank’s broad frame. Frank didn’t let his eyes stray from his target as he knelt, pressing the keys to his truck into your palm.

“Go.” He whispered. “I’ll be done in a sec.”

“But Frank, I-”

“Go.”

You crawled to your feet, limping toward the front door. Frank stayed perfectly still, imagining every awful thing he was going to do to the man that hurt you, until the sound of the truck door shutting indicated that you were safely away from the violence that haunted this house.

Frank was on the guy in half a breath, pushing him so hard into the wall that the drywall cracked under the pressure. He pressed his palm up against the guy’s jaw, slamming his head into the wall again.

“What? Now that you’re up against a real man, you don’t want to fight?” Frank sneered, tightening his hold on the man’s jaws. “Only a coward hits women.”

Frank’s fist connected with his face, spraying blood across the tile beneath them. The guy crumpled to the floor, and Frank followed, hitting him again and again and again, until the man was unrecognizable. The man wheezed, barely breathing, but Frank wasn’t done.

He slid the knife from his back pocket and plunged it into the man’s stomach, knowing immediately that he would never regret this blood being on his hands. He leaned in and whispered a promise that he would keep until the day he died.

“If by some miracle you survive this, you better hope to God I don’t find you. You think this is bad? It could be so much worse. You never deserved her.”

Frank pulled the blade from the guy’s stomach and wiped the blood on the man’s sleeve. Finally satisfied with his work, he made his way back toward the truck that held the most important thing he’d ever loved inside.

The drive back to Frank’s place was calmer, now that the immediate threat had been eradicated. You hadn’t said much of anything, instead curling into yourself, pressing your face into your palms and quietly crying. Frank didn’t know what to do, unsure of how to act around you after so long. It’d been so easy to be around you before – like breathing, he sometimes thought – but now, after everything you’d both been through, he struggled to find solid footing.

“Are you taking me home?” you asked, lifting your puffy eyes to meet his across the truck cabin.

“Yeah.” Frank nodded once. “To my place. Is that okay?” He added after a moment.

“Yeah.” You looked at your lap, fiddling with your fingers. “I’m sorry if I-”

“Don’t apologize for a damn thing. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You met Frank’s gaze. He was resolute in his statement, daring you to defy him. For a moment, the soft look in your eyes as you looked at him was enough to strip him to his roots. He felt nothing but an insurmountable love to have you back in his life again, even if it was under horrifying circumstances, even if it was only for tonight. He would accept any crumbs you offered of yourself and he’d cherish them forever.

“What do I do now?” The question was barely audible, almost as if you were asking yourself more than you were asking him. The softness of your tone sent an ache through Frank’s tight chest.

“Stay tonight. Shower, eat, rest. We’ll figure out what happens next tomorrow, okay?”

You nodded but didn’t vocalize a response. When Frank looked over at you, he realized it was because you had begun crying again. The man hadn’t suffered enough, Frank thought. No amount of suffering would make up for the beautiful, broken girl crying in his truck right now.

Frank rested his head in his hands and listened. He listened to the sound of you moving around the bathroom, the sound of the shower starting, and the sound of you hissing as the water pelted the cuts and bruises littering your body. His jaw ached from clenching it so much tonight. He stood, looked around for something to keep his hands busy, adjusted the curtains by the window, and sat again.

The unfamiliar territory between the two of you was unnerving. He didn’t know what to say or how to act around you anymore. When you’d climbed down from the passenger seat earlier, he’d been so afraid to startle you that all he could do was hover his hands around you just in case you slipped or needed his help. He hadn’t felt your touch since he’d pressed the truck keys into your palm back at the house. It felt like reaching for something that was just out of range, and he felt hollow when he thought about it for too long. Hence, the nervous pacing.

When the shower water shut off, Frank’s stomach jolted. He couldn’t figure out why he was so nervous. It was you for Christ's sake. At one point, you’d been his best friend, and at every other point, you’d been the woman he had been in love with since the dawn of time. But still, the nerves were an unsettling wave of butterflies in his stomach.

You cracked the door open and heat from the shower washed over Frank like a tidal wave. Or maybe it was the fact that you were dressed from head to toe in his clothes. It didn’t make you his, but Frank loved the sight of it, all the same.

“Did you find everything?” Frank asked, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say, except that he loved you, and that would not be vocalized right now.

“Yeah, Frankie.” A small smile crossed your face when you met his gaze. He saw through your mask. You could not hide from him. “Thank you for...everything. You really didn’t have to do all this.”

Frank scoffed. “Of course, I did. I would do anything for you. You know that.”

“I didn’t.” you started, tugging at your sleeves, “Know that, I mean. When I called earlier tonight, I didn’t know what would happen. If you would come or not. After...everything that went down, you know?”

Frank knew what you meant, though he hadn’t wanted to revisit that memory tonight.

“Listen,” he started, shaking his head, “I didn’t mean any of the stuff I said to you. I was jealous and hurt, but that’s not an excuse.”

“It’s fine, Frank.” You waved it away, like it was nothing.

“No, really. I’m sor-”

“I forgave you as soon as-”

“Would you just let me apologize? Please?”

You smiled, a real genuine smile, and it sent those butterflies in Frank’s stomach into a flurry. It was the first time he’d seen you smile in so long. He couldn’t help himself from grinning along with you.

“Sorry.” You murmured, grin widening.

“That’s my line.” Frank retorted.

“Sorry, again.” You snorted, and the laughter that bubbled out of you sounded like a thirty-piece orchestra in Frank’s ears. He could get drunk off your laughter, relishing in the warmth it brought him.

When he looked at you again, a pained expression played on your face.

“What is it?” he asked, softening his voice into a gentle murmur.

“I can’t remember the last time I laughed.” You shrugged.

Frank clenched his jaw at the thought of your ex-boyfriend. He eyed the black and blue bruises that marked your skin.

“Was tonight the first time he hit you?”

Your gaze locked with his, and he couldn’t stop himself from inching closer to you. He lightly wrapped his hands around yours, and the brush of your skin against his lit a spark so deep within him that his knees nearly buckled. You hadn’t responded to his question, and he couldn’t figure out if that was for your sake or his.

“No one,” he hardened his features for a moment, a gentle reminder of who he was and what he would do to the people that hurt you, “will ever hurt you again. You hear me? I don’t care who it is. They touch you, they die.”

An unbending will burned in his gaze, and you slowly nodded your head. Finally, your gaze lowered to where your hands were intertwined, noticing the broken skin over his knuckles.

“Did you kill him?” You asked, voice so soft Frank had to strain his neck to hear you.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” He replied, tugging his hands away from yours. Your delicate, intrinsic softness would not be subjected to his violent exploits. You tugged his hands back toward you, eyeing him with a harsh glare.

“Don’t pull away.” You pleaded. “Just this once.”

Frank warily placed his hands back into yours. The stark difference between his calloused, bruised, and ugly hands and your soft, innocent ones could’ve been a baroque painting. The thought jolted through him before he could stop it from forming. He did not want to taint your innocence with his blood-soaked hands.

“Stop that.” You chastised, eyeing him knowingly. You had always been so great at reading what he was thinking. “You are capable of more than just violence, Frank Castle. And you saved my life tonight. You deserve everything you’ve ever wished for.”

Frank lifted his gaze at your last sentence, unable to stop his eyes from wandering toward the person he’d always wished for but was too chicken to do anything about.

“What’s that look mean?” You asked, knowingly.

This was dangerous territory. You were towing a line that you and Frank had circled around since you’d met each other. Would tonight be another ‘almost’ to add to his endless cycle of memories with you? This was dangerous territory, but Frank didn't care anymore.

“You know what it means.” He murmured, swallowing thickly. “What it’s always meant.”

You didn’t reply for a moment, watching his expression morph from despair to something different, something heavier.

“Yeah.” You finally said, inching your body closer to his. You were so close now that your chests were touching, and your lips were mere inches apart. “I know.”

“Yeah?” He asked. He was so close now that he could smell the faint scent of his body wash on your skin.

“Yeah.” Your chin dipped in a nod, and Frank was there to meet it.

His lips captured yours in a kiss that melted away every bad thing that had ever happened between the two of you. You moaned into the kiss, allowing his tongue to brush over yours and into your mouth. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you fully against him.

It might’ve been ten minutes or two hours – you didn’t know or care – but the kiss deepened, and suddenly you were pulling Frank’s shirt up his torso and over his head. He gently led you backwards until the back of your knees hit the bed and you flopped down, pulling him down with you.

Your lips remained connected as he undressed you, pulling every article of clothing from your body at an agonizing pace. When he finally pulled away to unbutton his jeans, the sight of yellowing bruises across your stomach paused his movements.

“Not the first time, then?” He lightly brushed his fingers over the old bruises. The sight of them made him sick.

“No.” You replied, voice soft. “Not the first time.”

Frank sighed deeply, reminding himself that you were no longer in danger. He had saved you, and no one would ever touch you again.

“Why’d you call me tonight?” He asked. It was a nagging question that had been bouncing around in his head since his phone had first rung so many hours before. There was probably a better time to ask, but he couldn’t help himself. If he’d been hitting you for this long, why’d it take you so long to call him for help?

You looked up at him with such immense sadness that his chest reflectively tightened in response.

“Because I missed you.” Your voice cracked when you said it. “And because I love you. And because I knew you’d keep me safe, even if you were still mad at me.”

Frank looked down at you, unflinching in his gaze, and nodded. He was afraid if he spoke, he might let out the guttural sob that had formed deep in his stomach. He surged forward, pressing his lips to yours again.

It was a hurried flurry of movement – the kiss had quickly developed into something more – and soon, Frank was pushing himself in, and in, and in to your core. You were warm and wet, and Frank was fighting for his life as you stretched around his hard cock. When he finally began thrusting deep inside of you, the only coherent thought that he could muster were the three words he had been so terrified to say to you all these years.

“I love you.” He said as he thrusted into you. “I’ll always protect you. I love you so much.”

You widened your legs, allowing him to thrust even deeper into you. He chanted your name like a mantra under his breath as he continued to drive himself into you. The look on your face was so incredibly intense that he had to shut his eyes for a moment and block out the feeling of your wet cunt clenching around his cock. A soft hand pressed against his cheek startled his eyes open.

“You’re mine. And I’m yours.” You murmured, and it undid you both. Frank could barely hold himself above you, arms wobbling as he came so deep inside you that he was sure no one had ever coated your walls so thoroughly. You clenched around him, and it was dizzying. He’d never felt so full after giving all of himself away to someone.

He collapsed next to you, cradling your head in his hands as you both returned to Earth. The sun crept across the room as the rest of New York woke for the day, unaware that Frank Castle’s entire world had just shifted in his tiny apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. He gazed at your fluttering eyelids, close to sleep now that the events of the night had caught up to you. He didn’t mind. You were here, and he was holding you in his arms, and you were his, and he was yours, and he didn’t mind it one bit.

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 1 year

Text

everybody stay with me im shifting back into speculation & analyzing mode, this time about everybody's favorite pair of besties. ill put this under the cut for everyone's sakes

and please, take all of this with a Hefty grain of salt.

so ive been... thinking about a thing. a maybe-possibility. which if this has some merit, the part of me that loves characters having a good time and feeling good feels is screaming in fear. but the louder part of me that loves angst and hurting characters is rubbing its little fly hands together.

short version: i think Barnaby is going to emotionally distance from Wally, if not outright grow to resent him. maybe temporarily, maybe not.

full version: *cracks knuckles* strap in folks. so.

first of all, an entire chunk of Barnaby's bio is dedicated to his character relation to Wally. everyone else only has one-off lines dedicated to their relationships to other neighbors - even Frank & Julie just have single sentences about each other (note that they're described as "partnered with" and "depicted with" respectively. more on that soon). even Wally's bio has his Barnaby mention tacked onto the end of his first paragraph instead of being its own dedicated section

and then there's their character designs - their bios explicitly point out that they share characteristics; color schemes, hearts on their soles, similar outfits.

they were made to be best friends. literally. this quote is what made me start turning this theory over in my mind (sourced from @ /theneighborhoodwatch's collected & absolutely fascinating livestream trivia)

it appears that Barnaby literally did not have a say in whether or not he and Wally are friends. their bios even say "illustrated pages note that they were best friends multiple times." they have to be best friends.

which brings us back to Frank & Julie. they briefly reference each other in their bios, but they aren't described as best friends. it's incredibly likely that they were meant to be a romantic couple - i briefly covered that theory in this post (dont read the first one i was going insane) but they managed to avoid that. Frank and Julie defied the script and chose to be best friends instead.

and then in the trivia document a few more character relationships are briefly touched on, like how Howdy considers Barnaby a close friend, and Sally considers either Barnaby or Poppy as her closest friend, etc.

everyone else seems to be choosing who they're close with. they're forming their own opinions and dynamics and relationships. & its interesting that Barnaby is stated for both of these - as if implying that he may return the friendship feelings, or at the very least he's developed enough of a relationship with them to earn their affection

Barnaby and Wally... i doubt they ever got that. they were best friends from the start, no development, no choice. it's written into them.

and then there's how their relationship has been portrayed so far. i believe i saw an ask where Clown stated that Barnaby is very polite to Wally, which struck me as odd. have you ever had a polite relationship to your best friend? have you ever seen best friends be polite? i'd be surprised!

best friends mess with each other! they tease and rib and roast! what is a best friend for if not mutual tomfuckery?! jesting around? playfully pushing boundaries? a Polite best friendship... that's a straight up oxymoron. no such thing. that sounds boring and exhausting.

not only that, but the fact that Barnaby is often used for Wally's painting segments, and is the go-to guy for teaching Wally something new, is kind of concerning. it gives me the vibe that a big part of Barnaby's literal reason for existing is to be Wally's friend & guide.

which would make the fact of him being described as polite to Wally make sense. of course he's not going to push their relationship or try to deepen it - he's forming his own dynamics with the other neighbors. with Wally... it's already established. that is how they are with each other. that is what they are to each other.

and it's not like Wally can be the one to introduce nuances. i don't mean that as a slight or anything - he's just the way he's been described and the things stated about him that make me think that he wouldn't really... know how to? it just wouldn't occur to him. he probably thinks his and Barnaby's relationship is what a best friendship is and is how it should be.

but they have to hang out. they have to refer to each other as best friends. and while i believe that Wally does wholeheartedly think that they're best friends, close as can be... i doubt Barnaby feels the same. like - yes, he probably does care about Wally. everybody likes Wally.

but it's gotta be frustrating for Barnaby, especially as time goes on and he becomes more himself as a person over just being a character playing a part. it probably stunts his relationship growth with others, since his ~best friend spot~ is already taken and who would want to encroach on that? especially since its taken by Wally mcfuckin Darling?

their friendship might become less of a role and more of a responsibility. Barnaby might grow to feel obligated to stick with Wally as his "best friend". someone invites Barnaby to hang out and/or help with something? sorry, he has to pose for Wally's painting. Barnaby is trying to do his own thing? sorry, Wally is knocking on the door and asking for help with something.

i wonder if Barnaby ever hopes that Wally will go to someone else, or feels relief when he does. and then does he feel irritation/guilt over that denied hope or that granted relief? then does he get angry at himself for those emotions?

how would this effect how he treats Wally and acts around him? this confusing muddle of emotions and this strange growing resentment for his painfully earnest friend who only ever means well, if he means at all.

it makes me curious whether or not this theory has merit. and how this could come to a head. what would Barnaby, in this situation, do if/when he discovers that they're puppets on a set, and he's literally written to be Wally's bestie while everyone else changed their scripts and chose their own relationships.

personally, i don't think he'd be happy, and i doubt he'd handle it well.

#holy Shit this was tough to translate from my brain #i literally wrote it all out in my head while in the shower #and then i went to get it down on 'paper' and it was Tangled To Hell And Back #*taking a break from art*#brain: soooooo we're bored now. lets overthink and share these thinkings #welcome home theory #welcome home speculation #SERIOUSLY THOUGH IM SCARED FOR BARNABY AND WALLY #mainly for wally bc Ouch it would hurt him to have their relationship sour #barnaby getting resentful and wally not understanding why his best friend is acting differently towards him #and PLEASE keep in mind that im mostly talking outta my ass here #but like.... ugh #barnaby looking at wally walking over one day and feeling the urge to turn away or groan in irritation/exasperation #him posing for a painting and wishing he were anywhere else.#him wanting to be closer with other puppets but unable to bring himself to try bc of the Guilt #everywhere he turns hes called 'wallys best friend' and asked 'wheres wally? hes usually with you' when hes alone #and hearing 'if you want to find wally/barnaby go look for barnaby/wally. if you see one the other isnt far away'#that has GOT to get on his nerves over time #this constant stagnation of their relationship while everyone else is evolving and growing. hes Stuck.#even julie & frank who were written to be together find a way to circumvent that and add so much depth and uniqueness to their relationship #if you want a happy side of this. it could lead to barnaby & wally being really truly besties #barnaby could have an arc about thinking 'holy shit it was all fabricated. Fuck that and Fuck you[wally]'#and then going 'holy shit i Do actually love and care about him[wally] and i want us to develop a real meaningful friendship'#BUT WHO KNOWS who knows not me!#also it must be tiring to constantly have to explain his jokes and so many other things #bc wally Is a curious guy! he wants to learn!#but maybe barnaby just wants to have an uninterrupted conversation but he Cant bc wallys just built different #not said as a bad thing At All.#just... people are complicated. sometimes we have mean thoughts/emotions that conflict with what we really think/feel and our morals #we're only human. everyone is mean sometimes if only in our heads.& yeah theyre technically Puppets but lets not get caught up on semantics

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frvnkcastles · 2 months

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Hello 🥰🥰 I know you are accepting requests and i love the way you write so can you do a Frank x reader where she has had a dog since she was a teenager and is very attached, (when they living together the dog went with them of course) one night they are sleeping and her dog starts crying and then they wake up and they realize something is wrong, she gets desperate and they run to the vet (Frank calming her down the whole time) when they get there he does surgery but unfortunately she doesn't survive and Frank Take her home and comfort her, she say things like "i don't wanna live without him"...

(sorry if its too specific, you don't have to write if you don't want to! ❤️)

be safe 🥰

THE SCARS FROM TOMORROW ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You, Frank and your dog have become a little family and things are perfect, until your dog falls ill.

Warnings: Loss of a pet, very brief suicide ideation, brief mention of animal abuse, hurt/comfort, feminine nicknames

Word count: 3.8k

Author’s note: Okay, this one is heavy!! Read with caution, don’t feel bad if you have to sit this one out. Writing this broke my own heart, I also have a dog and I am definitely not prepared for the day he’s no longer with me. I’m so sorry for your loss anon, I hope this brings at least some comfort for you <3

Your dog had been there for you through thick and thin for years, but more than that, he had been there for every milestone of your and Frank’s relationship. From the night you first met to the day Frank had suggested moving in together, your precious boy was an important part of every step, and just like he had charmed you all those years ago, he had charmed Frank — granted, he didn’t need much convincing with his undeniable soft spot for dogs.

The way you had literally bumped into one another that first night was one of Frank’s favorite stories to tell, even when Curtis and Lieberman had already heard it a million times, he always jumped at the opportunity to go through it again.

It was a cold winter night and you had been a little irritated that your dog had given you the look, the one that meant he needed to go outside badly, when it was getting so late. You were violently shivering from the chilly air nipping at your fingertips and sneaking in through the cracks of your coat while your dog pulled on the leash eagerly, and the sounds of the city were mellow background noise.

And then, your excited dog rushed over to you unprompted, his snowy paws meeting your thighs and making you grunt at the collision. Before you had time to react in any way, he circled you so the leash tightened around your ankles, and you hopelessly tried to untangle the mess you were bound to stumble on.

”Baby, stop it”, you scolded him, but instead of listening to you, he ran in the other direction next. His excitement turned out to be because of a stranger walking towards you, and instead of seeing him as danger, your dog jumped at the man, effectively yanking you off of your feet. With a sharp gasp, you fell forward and you landed against a firm chest with your hand desperately trying to hold onto the leash, and before you could apologize for fumbling, a gravelly voice spoke up from above.

”You okay there, ma’am?” he asked gruffly, his hot breath meeting your freezing nose. Growing nervous, you tried to push yourself off of the man before bringing your gaze up to him. The hood pulled over his head and the beanie beneath it didn't make it easy to figure out his face, but once you did, you gulped loudly — partly because he was certainly a handsome sight, but partly because there was barely any of skin visible from amidst the swollen bruises and stitched wounds. Some of them looked old, just faded memories by now, but you could have sworn he had just walked out of a fight. God, you hoped you weren't accidentally picking one with him yourself.

Only after you had stared for an unreasonable amount of time, you nodded, and looked down simply to find his large hands holding your arms to keep you steady, something he had instantly done to save you from a painful landing onto the slippery, snowy pavement.

”Yeah, I am, sorry. And thank you", you rambled, before stepping back as an attempt to end the humiliation, but you had completely forgotten about the leash around you, and ended up falling behind at that instant.

Luckily, the stranger was quick and stealthy despite his hard, large frame, and before you could stumble backwards, he had grabbed you once again with his eyes blown wide with surprise. Feeling your cheeks heat up, blending in with the blush that the freezing air had already caused, you pursed your lips together to hide the shame spreading out within you like a wildfire. Could you be any more embarrassing? Surely, it couldn't get worse than being pressed flush against a strange man's chest while your dog watched from aside with his literal puppy eyes, as if he hadn't done a damn thing.

"Sorry, it's— uh— the leash—", you stuttered, and immediately, you both looked down and barely avoided bumping heads when you spotted the wire wrapped even tighter around your ankles. In response, the man chuckled lowly, and nodded his head to confirm that it was true — you were still a prisoner of the dog, who was simply following the situation while wagging his tail happily.

"Yeah, how 'bout I hold him, and you solve that?" he offered, and before you could even say anything, he had moved with his plan and gently took your dog by his collar. Mumbling a quiet thank you, you crouched down enough to unhook the leash from the collar and then spin it around yourself until it was all in your hands instead of a mess around your shoes. You were just about to apologize for the inconvenience once again, but you had barely opened your mouth when you noticed the man grinning at your best friend, muttering a "Hi there", as the two of them stared at one another. Only when your hand reached back down to click the leash back on, causing your cold fingers to brush with his calloused ones, the man snapped out of it and looked up at you.

Standing up once again, you both stared at each other in silence, before you blurted out, "Are you okay?", confusing him to a point where the corners of his lips twitched just slightly, but once you had gestured to his beaten features, he swept his tongue over his bottom lip and nodded curtly.

"Yeah, nothin' you gotta worry about, ma'am", he replied simply, and just as he was about to step aside and continue walking with his hands pushed deep into his pockets, you had spoken up yet again, earning his attention when you did.

You introduced yourself, not quite sure why you would, but he turned over to you, dark eyes meeting yours for a moment that felt a lot longer than it was in reality.

"Frank."

You didn’t see each other again for a while after that, but a month later when the snow had begun to melt and the sun stuck around for a little longer, he walked past a flyer that immediately caught his eye. It was a picture of you hugging your dog, declaring that the dog had been lost and you would reward anyone who would help you find him. He tried to walk away, insisting it wasn’t his problem, but he couldn’t get you out of his head, certain that you were completely devastated.

Besides, he knew what kind of crooks lived in the city. He had saved enough animals to know they could fall into the wrong hands, and he didn’t want your dog to be one of them. So, for two days, he relentlessly sought after your baby, not stopping until he was finally on a trail that could lead to something.

 With the flyer scrunched in his fist, his other one banged on the neatly painted front door of a house that looked less shitty than most he had seen, his hood pulled over his head to avoid being recognized, but at this point, he was willing to go to great lengths. Hell, he had even asked for Red's help.

When the door was finally opened, he came face to face with a sweet old lady, and he tried his best to make himself look smaller and less intimidating. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am. You haven't seen this dog, have ya?" his rough voice was quickly breaking the silence as he uncoiled the poster in his hand and showed it to the lady, who slowly put on her glasses and inspected the photo. Something in Frank cheered when her eyes lit up and she seemed to recognize the photo, and even more relief kicked in when she proceeded to nod her head.

"Oh, yes! I found him on the street a few nights ago, but I haven't had the time to find the owner yet. Do you know who he belongs to?" the old lady questioned curiously, and as if on cue, a familiar dog waddled from the house to the front door, and cracking a small smile in response, Frank nodded.

"A heartbroken woman, I'm sure. She'll be pretty damn grateful that you saved this guy, ma'am", he answered before kneeling down and lifting his large hands to scratch the dog behind his ears. "Hey there, boy. Been lookin' for ya. Wanna get back to your mom, huh?" he muttered quietly, the dog leaning into his gentle touch approvingly. He was incredibly glad that a sweet woman like this one had taken him in instead of some abusive criminal, and he knew you would be too.

"Well, tell your girlfriend she has a very sweet dog", the old lady fondly poked at the boy one last time, and stifling a smile, Frank nodded and looked down, almost shy.

"I'll, uh, I'll make sure to pass the message", he gave one last look of gratitude to the woman as he backed away from her porch, and after exchanging nods, the lady returned indoors and Frank walked to his truck with the dog in tow. "Let's get you home, huh? Whaddya say?"

In all honesty, you were beginning to lose the last shreds of hope, but the sound of a firm knock on your door snapped you out of your haze. Gulping, you made your way to the front door and cracked it open, and as soon as you saw what was awaiting in the hallway, you let out a trembling breath and broke into tears of joy, your heart filling with love and relief when your dog jumped into your arms from the strong pair that had been steadily carrying him.

"Oh, you're home!" you cried out while holding onto the dog, who licked at your face and whined desperately for more scratches and cuddles and affection. And you were more than happy to give that to him, just over the moon — your dog was alive and well, and there were no words to describe how good it felt to see and hold him again.

Only after you had finally set the squirming dog down so he could go get some water — of course, you had been filling his bowl even if he wasn't there to drink it — you looked up at the doorway to meet the gaze of your savior, and at the realization that none other than Frank had found and returned your missing dog, your heart melted. Or maybe it was the genuine, fond smile that he couldn't wipe from his face as he followed the reunion between you and your baby boy.

"You found him", you breathed out, an overjoyed laugh breaking through your tears as you covered your mouth with your palm and shook your head in disbelief and utter, incredible gratitude. Frank was parting his lips to say something, but he couldn't let out a single word when you had already stumbled forward and wrapped your arms around his muscular body, feeling his rough jacket against your skin as you forced a warm, tight hug onto him. He was caught by surprise, and while it wasn't the first time a relieved damsel in distress had insisted on giving a hug as a thank you, this time, he didn't want to weasel out of it. Instead, he awkwardly lifted his own arms and wrapped them around your shorter body, his heart thudding heavily in his chest as he held onto you for what was only a couple of seconds, but felt like forever.

By clearing his throat eventually, Frank broke the moment and you understood to step back whilst wiping your eyes. "Yeah, well, he don't deserve to get locked up by those assholes that abuse dogs. None of them do. And uh, you don't deserve to go through that, either, so yeah. Tracked the boy down for ya", he gestured towards the dog, who was already rushing back to the two humans at the door, clearly taken a liking to Frank as well — and you agreed, especially when he lifted his heavy boot enough to block the doorway to avoid another run-off.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. I don't know what I would've done without him, really. This means so much to me", you sighed deeply, nothing but the truth in your words. Before an awkward silence could land between you, you continued with, "I know my apartment is kind of a mess right now, but would you like to come in for some coffee?”

Frank stared at you for a couple of seconds, silent and careful. At first, he was amused that you thought a little mess would drive him away, but when he let the suggestion sink in, he felt his mouth run dry while his hands did the opposite and proceeded to collect sweat on them. What the hell had gotten into him? And yet, even if he knew he should have said no for the sake of your safety, for the sake of not dragging you down with him and avoiding attachment from the both of you, he ended up smiling.

"Fuck, why not."

You grew closer and closer ever since then, and though it took him a while to get the courage to officially ask you out, your relationship soon evolved. The nervousness of a crush developed into something more serious and before you knew it, you had had your first kiss and your first night together, he introduced you to his best friends and finally, you moved in together. Your dog quickly adjusted to the new normal, incredibly affectionate towards Frank, and vice versa. When he had first met you, he had never thought he’d regain that domestic bliss of a girlfriend and a family pet that he had lost, but he was so happy to have it back.

And for a while, things were perfect.

Your blissful life took a turn one night — you were sound asleep in Frank’s arms, his protective hold of you always easing you into sweet dreams, but you were startled awake when your dog cried out in pain. He wouldn’t stop whining, and you sat up on the bed to find him crying on the floor, clearly hurt somehow. Anxiety rushed into your heart and you shook Frank awake, not sure what else to do.

”Frankie. Frank, something’s wrong”, you whispered, and jolting up in that usual fighting reflex of his, he looked around the room until his stare landed on your worried features. He ran his hand across his face and tried to shake off the restless sleep he had been stuck in, eventually processing your panicked state and the dog’s cries.

He climbed out of bed and went over to the dog to assess, his eyes darting all over his body to make sure there was no external injury. He couldn’t see anything wrong with him, but that only deepened his frown, unsure what could be causing it. For a while, he was crouched down, observing the boy, and you sat on the bed impatiently, but finally, Frank stood up and gave you a serious look.

”Get dressed, sweetheart. We gotta take him to the vet”, he announced, and nodding hastily, you followed him out of the bed and found some clothes. You were terrified and you appreciated that Frank was a man of action, whereas you were fighting the urge to freeze completely.

He took charge, carrying the wincing dog into the truck and buckling you in. Nervous tears streamed down your face, and you feared the worst — your dog was no young boy anymore, and you knew that meant a bigger risk to his well-being. Frank could tell you were falling apart, and he tried his best to calm you down, his hand gripping yours while the other one gripped the wheel.

”It’s gonna be alright, darlin’. The vet will know what to do, yeah? Just breathe. Maybe it’s nothin’, right?” he reassured you, and although you nodded, you found his words difficult to believe. You loved him for his attempts to soothe you, but there was no denying that you were freaking out entirely, the panic only growing worse with the dog howling in your arms.

”I can’t lose him”, you sniffled, and swallowing hard at the thought of the worst case scenario, Frank squeezed your hand.

”I know, sweetheart. I know.” He didn’t try to tell you that you wouldn’t lose him, not wanting to give you false hope in case things would go south, but he was dedicated to being there for you no matter what.

You arrived at the emergency vet and Frank took the dog from your arms to carry him inside. It was like an out-of-body experience, you lost track of time and space and you couldn’t stop crying, even when Frank wiped your tears away from your eyes. The vet took the dog from Frank and took him away for an examination, leaving you in the waiting room with your boyfriend’s hand in your tight grasp.

”I’m so scared”, you admitted shakily, the lump in your throat only worsening, but it was nothing compared to the weight on your chest. You felt like throwing up or fainting, and you knew for a fact that without Frank by your side, you would have already done both.

”Hey, look at me”, Frank requested softly, and with tear-filled eyes, you met his gaze. ”I ain’t leavin’ your side, got that? I’m here, no matter what happens”, he swore, attaching his lips to your forehead in a lingering kiss.

The vet came out soon to inform you that your dog needed surgery, and it immediately made you anxious. Still, you had no choice but to agree, but before the vet took your baby in for the operation, he let you see him for some peace of mind.

Frank stood back, because as much as he had come to love him, he was still your dog and he knew that moment was for you and you alone. He had already been sedated, meaning he was no longer whining in pain, and that brought you a little comfort. Crying quietly, you petted him, scared but still smiling because he was there and he was your everything. Regardless of how the surgery was going to go, you would always have this moment, not to mention all the years you had shared together.

Things happened quickly after that. You and Frank had to retreat into the waiting room, and as 4 AM lurked around the corner, you wept in your boyfriend’s arms. He had you in his tight embrace, not sure what he could possibly say to make you feel better, but determined to at least hold you through it. The surgery lasted a while, but even though you were so, so tired, the anxiety inside your gut wouldn’t let you fall asleep. You sat there, a ball of nerves, and Frank shushed you softly as you cried out of pure fear.

Then, the vet walked into the waiting room and you could tell something was wrong right away. As soon as he opened his mouth and condolences came out, your heart shattered in your chest and you burst into heavy sobs. You couldn’t hold yourself together, couldn’t breathe properly, the heartbreak too overwhelming to endure. Frank let you cry into his chest, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back and his own eyes filling with tears. He felt sucker-punched, too, but for your sake, he tried to be strong and brave.

The vet tried to tell you what had happened and ask you if you wanted to bury him or have him cremated, but you couldn’t process anything he was saying. Frank listened carefully, just so that he’d be able to explain it all to you later, but his priority was holding you through the violent sobs breaking out of you.

”We need a moment outside, that okay?” Frank asked the vet with a heavy heart, and he assured it was alright to take your time. Frank lifted you out of the chair and walked you out for some fresh air, the cool wind whipping against your wet cheeks. You couldn’t stop shaking and it didn’t seem like the pain was going to let go of you anytime soon, but Frank was in no rush — he was going to hold you through it, no matter how long it would take.

”I gotchu, sweetheart, I gotchu. I know it hurts. Let it out, it’s okay”, he spoke gently, trying his very best to give you some kind of hope, even if he knew things seemed bleak right now.

”I can’t do this, Frank. It’s too much. I don’t want to live without him”, you cried, unsure how you would possibly get through this. But Frank wasn’t going to let you sink into that kind of thinking.

”Oh, baby. We’ll get through this together, yeah? It’s gon’ take some time but I’m not lettin’ you deal with this alone, you hear me?” he promised you, cradling your head as he supported your weak body with his strong arms. ”This is fuckin’ heartbreaking. But you’re gon’ make it to the other side of this, I know you will. I’mma hold your hand the whole way”, he went on, unwilling to let you give up. He knew this was going to be hard to get over, but he had endless patience and understanding and he’d do anything to help you carry the weight.

”You’ll stick with me?” you asked through the cries, and nodding vehemently, Frank kissed your temple.

”Course, I will. I ain’t goin’ nowhere, sweetheart. I love you, yeah? More than you know. I promise it’s gon’ hurt a lil less with time. You trust me?” he asked with sincerity, and you gave him a fragile nod.

”I trust you”, you confirmed, and he flashed a faint smile in return.

”That’s my girl. You’re so strong”, he praised you, his gruff voice full of love for you. He had so much faith in you, and even if you didn’t see it yourself yet, he knew you would be able to pull through this loss.

And you knew that without Frank, it would have been much, much worse. Your best friend was gone, but you still had the man of your dreams, and that was going to keep you going.

He was right. It took months, but day by day, the pain inside you grew duller and weaker. It still hurt, but it turned into a longing ache instead of a stabbing agony. Your home still had reminders of your dog, and Frank loved to talk about him with you, meaning that even when he was gone, he really wasn’t.

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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bordysbae · 1 year

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Hi queen!! Could you write something for Frank where the reader is older and she gets made fun of for being a cougar? Thank you.

“cougs”

frank nazar x f!reader

usually you didn’t go for guys younger than you. quite the opposite actually. but when you met frank nazar you knew you were in deep shit. “he’s literally younger than you y/n!” your friend exclaims, shocked that you’re going after a younger guy.

“it’s college, who cares anymore! he’s hot!” your other friend chimes in.

“guys stop it, i’ve barely even spoken to the guy! i met him at a party, you guys need to chill,” you chuckle, scrolling through your texts with the freshman.

“yeah well does every guy you meet ask for your number?” the ginger haired one asks, raising an eyebrow at you. you bashfully smile, knowing that’s she’s right.

“yeah y/n, that’s what we thought,” the brunette one says, making you throw a pillow at her. “oh shut it!” you exclaim, meanwhile your cheeks become coated in a rosy pink.

—

all of that was a little over a month ago. now you’ve been dating frank for nearly three weeks, and you’ve never met his teammates. you already know they’re gonna make comments about how you’re older than him, since frank had told you that they chirp him about it in the locker room.

“frank, i’m nervous,” you admit, as he parks the car outside of the restaurant. he immediately turns his head towards you and a pitiful pout appears on his lips.

“don’t be babe, i promise it’s gonna be okay. they won’t be too harsh on you, and if they are i’ll say something okay?” he reassures, and you nod your head. as you both walk into the small restaurant in the depths of ann arbor, you spot the table full of boys and a couple girls here and there.

“hey nazar!” one of the boys exclaims, dapping frank up as you both walk past the long row of people, who aren’t sat against the cushioned booth. then you guys reach the empty chairs saved for you both.

“so, you must be the famous y/n! i’m nolan, team captain,” he smirks, proud of the ‘captain’ title.

“yes, that’s me!” you sweetly smile, afraid of the jokes you’ll be never hear the end of. “so you’re… a junior right?” another boy next to nolan chimes in with a small chuckle, making your cheeks run hot.

“oh, i’m actually a sophmore,” you correct him, aware that he’s very much making a little joke about you. he smiles at your response, before introducing himself as ethan.

“we’ve heard a lot about you! i’m shocked i’ve never seen you before, especially since we’re the same age, y’know?” another boy chimes in, making your heart rate immediately speed up. frank grabs your hand under the table, squeezing it tight in his as a way of reassurance.

“oh, yeah that’s strange,” you say, stuttering a little on your words out of both embarrassment and nerves. for a moment the jokes die down, but once they start up again you immediately feel upset and nervous again.

clearly this is obvious to frank, because suddenly he snaps from quiet to angry, “okay guys that’s enough. are you done with the stupid comments you’re making? it’s just a one year age difference, you guys need to cut it out! can’t you see you’re making both of us uncomfortable?” he exclaims, startling everyone and making them immediately how quiet and listen to him.

“look we’re sorry man, and sorry to you too y/n. it’s all jokes i promise. and i promise we’re done with the chirps, right guys?” the boy you know to be nolan says, looking at all the boys who were making comments. they all nod their heads and apologize to you, making you feel better. the rest of dinner is sweeter, and you’ve basically forgotten about the comments from earlier due to all the jokes being cracked, and funny stories being told. as you and frank are leaving the restaurant, nolan comes up to you to say goodbye.

“y/n! it was nice meeting you, and i’m sorry about earlier,” nolan says, pulling you into a side hug.

“hey it’s alright, i know it was all a joke, just a little bit sensitive i guess,” you shrug, making nolan smile at your forgiveness.

“cya around, cougs,” nolan chuckles, making you roll your eyes jokingly, hitting nolan’s arm.

“yeah yeah whatever, hope you get a girlfriend soon enough! it must suck being alone all the time,” you joke back, making everyone around you laugh.

“oh i like her, you picked well nazar!” a boy chimes in as he begins walking to his car, making frank chuckle before parting ways with the group. he then wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer into his side.

“i’m sorry about them, but it wasn’t too bad was it?” he asks.

“no, it wasn’t so bad after all,” you smile up at him.

“i’m glad you had a good time. thanks for coming with me, cougar,” frank smirks, making you roll your eyes and playfully hit his chest.

#frank nazar #frank nazar fluff #frank nazar blurb #frank nazar imagine #frank nazar x reader #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #umich hockey #michigan hockey

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atmilliways · 1 year

Text

Wrong On The Money (11-12)

parts 11 & 12 of ?? | 1076 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

Giving the kids rides home from Hellfire meetings is wreaking havoc on Steve’s gas money. It also involves the double-edged sword of Eddie being there.

11.

Giving the kids rides home from Hellfire meetings is wreaking havoc on Steve’s gas money. It also involves the double-edged sword of Eddie being there. Two birds, one stone—but seeing him always stirs up feelings in Steve’s chest that he doesn’t know what to do with, so the audience isn’t ideal.

“About that total,” Eddie says one night, in the hurried rush between the kids piling into the Beemer and exchanging bills so either no one saw or the older club members assumed it was a simple drug deal. “I need to charge interest.”

Steve pauses, peering at Eddie, whose expression and body language carry more of the tension from their first run-in than he’s seen in a while. His first instinct is to ask about his uncle, but he’s not supposed to know about that and doesn’t want to get Dustin in trouble for telling him.

So much for a straightforward total. There’s some jewelry in his parents' room that his mom hasn’t missed in months, and probably won’t ask about whenever she bothers to stop by the house next. Maybe he can sell it, help both Eddie and himself out.

“Sure, why not,” Steve sighs.

It’s Eddie’s turn to stop and frown at him. “Really? No protest, just like that?”

Steve angles a thumb over one shoulder, pointing back at the Beemer right as one of the kids (his money, if he had any left, would be on Mike) gets to the horn. “No time,” he says with a tight smile of his own.

The car honks again as he turns to go. He was right; Dustin has shotgun, but Mike is the one leaning up from the back seat to lay on the horn.

“Mike! Patience, dictionary, look it up!” Shaking his head, Steve starts towards the car at a brisk pace, throwing a quick “See you next week, Munson” over his shoulder.

12.

What the fuck was that, what the fuck was that?

“What the fuck was that?”

Jeff’s voice mirroring his exact thought makes Eddie jump at least half a foot in the air. Gareth and Frank are already headed to Frank’s car, a fact he notes with confusion because—

“I told them you’re giving me a ride,” Jeff explains. “Figured it’d give you an opportunity to share about whatever’s going on with you and The Hair lately.”

“There’s nothing going on,” Eddie mumbles, jamming both hands deep in his jeans pockets to tuck the wad of bills he’d palmed from Harrington safely away. He slouches off towards his van where it sits alone in the deserted parking lot.

“Then he’s shit at buying drugs,” Jeff shoots back, following, “because he didn’t take anything with him. Come on, Eddie, how long have we been friends? I was right there getting that rabies shot with you after you tried to house train a raccoon, man.”

Eddie gets in and starts the van, looking anywhere but at his friend. “What are you poking at this for? Let it go, it’s not that big a deal.”

Yes it is. Yes it is and I am in over my head, I am so in over my head it’s not even—

“Dude,” Jeff says flatly. “I can see you thinking a mile a minute.”

So Eddie cracks. He drives out to the middle of nowhere and parks in a field, and tells Jeff everything, hardly stopping for breath the entire time. He outs Harrington, which he's literally being paid not to do. He outs himself (which, nothing against Jeff, but he was kind of hoping to get the fuck out of Hawkins before anyone besides his uncle found out). He talks about how the doctors keep extending the time Wayne is on the medication, not happy with some sort of results from blood tests, and having to ask for interest.

“And he’s going to do it,” Eddie says, winded by disbelief of this fact as well as everything else that's tumbled out of his mouth like a goddamn avalanche. “He didn’t even ask how much. That must mean—I must have really intimidated him, right? What if I’m ruining his life?”

“Oh bull,” Jeff scoffs, finally elbowing a word in edgewise. “Nothing I saw tonight implied he thinks you’re intimidating. Look, wait a minute—did you just say you’re gay?”

Eddie freezes. “I . . . sort of did, yeah.”

“. . . And the best you can do is a crush on Steve Harrington?

He flushes, pulling clumps of his hair to cover his face with both hands—mortified, but also hiding a manic grin. They’ve been friends for years, and while Eddie hadn’t expected Jeff to call him a fag and spit in his face, it would’ve been too much to expect this kind of easy acceptance.

That done, he starts patting his pockets for a joint, because god he needs one. “Uh, apparently? He’s, I mean, he looks like that, but. . . .”

“But a total douchebag,” Jeff supplies. “Man, I get it, most of the girls in this town would call me a nerd or have their boyfriends beat me up as soon as look at me.” He pauses, accepting the joint when passed to him with a look he sometimes gets when trying to puzzle out one of the traps Eddie's set in a campaign. “You’re right though, it’s weird. I never would’ve guessed blackmail because he didn’t even seem, like, mad.”

Eddie pounces on that, nodding hard. “Yeah, exactly! You know, he never even asked why I wasn’t worried that he’d tell people about me? I had an answer all lined up too, I was going to be all—” he drops into one of his villain character voices, low and gravelly— “Everyone knows I’m a freak already, they don’t need confirmation. You, on the other hand, are prime real estate for the gossip mill to go to town on.”

Jeff smirks. “Well, that’s true. But you’re only threatening to tell his girlfriend, right?” When Eddie nods again, he simply shrugs. “So, maybe he’s not worried that she’ll spread it around. I know Buckley from band class, she’s decent. Could explain why he’s so relaxed about the whole thing.”

“But then why is he paying?” Eddie wails, getting both arms in on the question.

“No idea. Maybe all that hair is weighing down on his brain.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie grumbles, but he doesn’t mind. It's a relief to tell someone, even though he's still not sure how to feel about the whole mess.

#steddie blackmail fic #steddie #steddie fic #stranger things fic #jeff is eddie's bff in this one. i don't make the rules i just write the story.#steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #jeff (stranger things)

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vivaladicamillo · 1 year

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Okay so I don’t know why but I’m just so fixated this idea? I can imagine a female reader, being the first and only girl in the jackass crew and also being apart of wildboyz. Her, Chris, & Steve-O are all attached at the hips obviously and maybe one day after filming for Wildboyz they all go back to the hotel and clean up, have a big smoke sess and it just leads to these two tag teaming her while there all high as hell? (Which btw I feel like it’s very much a common occurrence 🤭 especially if they’re in like a poly relationship)

STEVEO/READER/CHRIS PONTIUS IMAGINE

im literally so obsessed with this idea, know that chris and steve-o were so close anyways it always makes me giggle. sorry i didnt get to do this sooner i have had a kidney stone and have been super sick bc of it, welp enjoy!! this is also my first ever like actual written out smut so sorry if its absolute shit but i have the writing skills of a idiot so….

WARNINGS: cursing, drinking, talks of drugs and alcohol, and smut

—————————————

ok so u, steve-o and chris have always been pretty close

yall all met through the first season of jackass

u were good friends with steph so she invited u to go watch her and the guys do stupid shit

and ofc u wanted to participate

so u go onto set looking around for her

instead u see two half naked men just chillin, standing around

after some first awkward glances u meet with steph and watch everything unfold

everyone was in the middle of a type of field with a huge loop that ppl were trying to ride with skate boards and bikes and shit

it was actually super cool

after a few hours of filming in the hot sun u pretty much were beat

u walk over to ur friend to tell her u think ur gonna head out for today

but little do u know the two guys from earlier are also friends with steph

so the four of yall get to talking

and u learn that the one man whos tan, in pretty good shape and is now wearing bunny ears and a flower bra is chris pontius, and the other bald man wearing a cheetah speedo is steve-o

they both invited u to join them to get ihop after the shoot

and just like that a trio was born

the three of u were always together

either just chillin, partying, or filming

u guys were never apart

u were the only one out of the three who actually had an apartment

so the two mostly (basically) lived at ur house

after the seasons of jackass ended steve-o and chris ended up doing a spin off called “wildboyz”

obviously u were still gonna be with them

u do hella cameos in wildboyz

u do all the shit that the guys are too pussy to do

swimming with alligators, sharks, bears rlly anything

also when steveo didnt wanna jump off the bridge with wings on, u def did

so lets set the scene

after doing some filming in australia, the crew and u three decide to go out on the town in melborne

just doing some bar hopping

eventually the crew gets tired and drunk and go off back to the hotel room

not the three american idiots tho

u steveo and pontius are just having a grand ol’ time drinking, goofing around and just having fun

it seems awesome

until pontius ends up fist fighting with some random guys which leads to steveo also getting involved

that gets everyone kicked out the bar

after some mumbling and complaining from the two u bring up a solution

“hey lets just go back to my room, i brought some weed we could go smoke or something..”

it was a absolute yes

who says no to weed?

the three of u go back to ur hotel room and smoke 2 whole joints together

yall were HIGHHHHH

the three of u guys were just in a cluster on the cheap ass hotel rug, giggling and cracking jokes till way into the night

the thing is, when ur high, u tend to get a little touchy

so little touches on chris’ chest while laughing here and accidently touching steveos thigh there

totally innocent touches

things start to get a little intense tho

longer eye contact from chris, steve-o trying to make u laugh more

and just like that steve-o has u in a bear hug, ur back to his chest while chris is next to u guys

after u calm urself down from having a giggle attack

u look over at chris

“have i ever told u, u have a pretty face y/n” chris says

u kinda had to stop in ur tracks a bit, only bc ur surprised

“yea, ur right chris, i also never say how good u smell dude, its like heavenly” steveo chimes in

u start to get a little nervous

yea u thought ur two friends were super hot but u werent gonna tell THEM that

“yea its probably because i actually shower, unlike u two” u giggle trying to ease the tension

“im serious y/n, ur actually gorgeous, ive just never told u like out loud in person before” chris says

ur face starts to turn bright red

“guys wha-“

“aweee chris ur making them blush” steve-o chuckles

at this point ur beat red, and a little sweaty

ur just baffled bc u know all abt the type of ppl chris and steve-o go for, you the last person u would ever think they would even come close to saying that stuff too

“hey, lets put a proposal on the table” steveo says, snaking his hand around ur waist

“its been a hell of a night, why dont we end this shit off right, chris? y/n? u down?”

“LIKE SEX?” u blurt out in ur intoxicated state causing the two guys to burst out laughing

“yes y/n, like sex” chris says

welp who knew this was gonna happen

ur two best friends wanting to fuck u??? like what?? how did this happen

i mean u were already in steveos lap, having his hand wrap around ur waist as his head rests on ur shoulder and chris on the opposite side of u playing with ur hair, curling it in between his fingers

“fuck it” u say, turning to chris

chris leans in and starts kissing u

eh well not kissing

more like very drunkly making out

steve-o starts kissing and licking on ur neck

all this is making ur face bright red

and tbh making u hella turned on

u eventually crawl out of steveos lap straddling chris

he runs his hand up ur shirt and up the small of ur back, steveo then helps chris take off ur shirt and ur bra

steveo then starts massaging ur breasts while whispering sweet nothings into ur ear

u pull away from the two

“guys i really think we shouldnt do this on the gross ass hotel room floor, the room comes with a bed for a reason” you say

the two look at eachother then look at u and nod

chris throws u over his shoulder while steveo runs ahead and plops down on the bed

chris then puts u on the bed, leaving u in ur jean shorts from ur guys night on the town

chris then unzips ur shorts and looks up at ur for permission

u nod and he starts kissing down ur stomach, taking off ur jeans and panties as he does

chris starts to eat u out while u push ur back into steve-o

u go to tangle ur fingers into chris’ hair

steveo quickly takes ur wrists into one hand

“awee come one sweetheart ur giving him all the attention” he chuckles

u turn to him, not even able to make out a word bc of how good chris is doing

who knew that he could eat pussy like THAT

u lock lips with steveo and u both moan into the the kiss

chris pulls away from u

he gets up and crawls onto the bed with u and steveo

damn good thing u got a king bed with ur room

u turn to straddle steveo, grinding against him as u do causing u both to groan

u pull away helping steve-o get his pants off

u look over at chris and hes already intensely watching u too, dick in hand

bc thats just how he rolls

u take steve-os cock out of his boxers, lick up his shaft then get on top of him

u put his tip at ur entrance and slowly sink down onto him

u both moan at the feeling

as u start to ride him, u turn to chris once again and hes slowly stroking his dick, once u really get a look at it u realize how big he is

“hm what? u like what u see sweetheart?” chris mumbles in between moans

u nod, still riding steveo, feeling urself slowly creep towards release

steveo then pulls u off him

“i feel like this isnt fair, i shouldnt have to keep ur gorgeous body all to myself, thats just selfish.” he beckons chris over

“turn around” steve-o says

u do as he says, chris now on the bed in front of you

“whats wrong darling? u look like u want something, dont be shy” chris says caressing ur cheek to make u look him in his eyes

god u couldnt get enough of his big beautiful eyes

“yes..” u say lowly

“what was that? i cant hear u?”

“yes chris, please.” u say glancing down at his dick

while this is all happening steve-o is just groping ur ass

“ohh u wanna suck me off dont u?” he rubs his thumb across ur bottom lip “ofc u can, anything for u”

u lean down to his dick, putting it in ur hand and giving it small licks here and there

as ur ass is up in the air, right in front of steveos face, he pushes himself back into u, fucking u from behind

u start to take all of chris into ur mouth, moaning as u feel steveos hand reach for ur clit

the room was just filled with moans, groans, and the sound of skin slapping, steve-o and chris just making intense eye contact the whole time

“ah fuck y/n just like that” chris mumbles as u take his whole length down ur throat, gagging

steveos thrusts start to speed up quicker and u feel like ur going to cum and minute now

u pull off chris’ dick with a pop, jerking him off in place of ur mouth

“shit, im-“

u dont get to finish ur sentence before u feel urself cum all over steveos cock

steveos fucks u through ur high, pulls out and cums on ur back

then a few minutes later chris came onto ur face

after the three of u have calmed down from ur highs, chris gets up and grabs a towel from the bathroom to clean u guys up

well mainly u

after u three all get into bed and fall asleep, u cuddling into chris’ chest and steveo spooning u from behind

“man we should do that more often” steveo says

and u guys sure did

after that night u three all kinda agreed to be a thing, u recommend a poly relationship which they didnt know much about but were completely down for

they both are in love with u (and lowkey eachother) so it was a win for everyone involved

———————————————————

ok hope yall enjoyed! as u can tell i cant take smut srsly at all ive never rlly written smut before at this detail level so i just kinda went with it, hope its not too bad. im also way to lazy atm to read over this for mistakes so ima just got with it, please keep recommending stuff for me to write! its very fun!

#jackass #jackass x reader #chris pontius x reader smut #chris pontius #chris pontius x reader #steveo x reader #steve o #steveo x reader smut

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doodle17 · 7 months

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Do you have any headcanon voices for Raz and Co. when their older?

I do! Actually!

I cant really see any other voice for Raz. It just fits him too much to change! Raz himself thought his voice would change at least a little. He was hoping he would start to sound more professional and charismatic, almost Matthew McConaughey-esque. He manages the charisma and professionalism, but he still sounds the same, more similar to Richard Horvitz's regular talking voice. The only thing that really changed is volume, if anything. He tends to project his voice (unintentionally most of the time) and when intentional, it's usually to fit the very comic book style action hero "Stop right there, you fiend!" Voice. He sometimes reverts to sounding like squeaky preteen when nervous. But it makes it really easy to impersonate as a lady when disguised or over a phone call though!

Lili's voice changed a bit, actually. Unlike Raz, her voice actually got deeper.(imagine Lilly from "The Walking Dead" but a little higher and more raspy) Similar to Raz, however, I can't imagine any other voice for her other than her og voice actor, Nikki Rapp (Which is why I used Lilly as an example lol) Her voice does tend to change depending on her mood. Her voice can get hissy and gravelly when angry or frustrated, but she can also get loud, even screechy when panicked (or, if you really piss her off. )

Dogen sounds similar to Josh Gad. LMAO I KNOW but seriously! Idk how to explain it, but he has the right pitch and some other stuff I can't put my finger on.... It just fits to me!

Bobby's voice got deeper, waaay deeper, and a little nasal-y. His lisp is completely gone as well. His voice is pretty gravelly when talking normally, and trying to understand what he's saying when he whispers is tricky. The grit in his voice is seems intentional, almost as if he's doing it on purpose to seem more gruff and intimidating. Despite how deep his voice is, he can get pretty whiney, and similarly to Lili, his voice gets screechy when stressed.

Chloe's voice sounds the same. A little deeper but still raspy, little more pointed and professional. She's pretty good at tricking people into thinking she's a kid on the phone or from a distance.

Clems voice also got deeper, but he very obviously trys to elevate it to sound more perky and young. It makes him very prone to voice cracks, and she gets sore throats more often than one would think. He sounds a little similar Rob Paulson, actually. Imagine if Rob Paulson was trying to do an impression of a perky teen and there you go! He's also still trying to keep up that peppy and encouraging cheer persona, so she tends to shout a lot. His voice can get deep and pointed when angry. I think threatening would be a good word to describe it.

Crystal's is the same, she's definitely more relaxed so her voice isn't as squeaky or high. It can get more wobbly and unstable when she shows literally any emotion.

D'art's voice sounds like Tom Kenny, with a bit of a feminine twang to it. Also full of cynicism and bitterness, but thats always how he's always been.

Elton voice sounds like Johnny Depp doing an awkward/nervous voice (I'll use Victor Vandort as an example). He can also sound very desperate and whiney. He's usually quiet, any attempt on raising his voice usually result in him shrinking back down and becoming mumbly. Of course he can be assertive when needed, and he can project his voice pretty well.

Kitty has a deep and more richer voice. Very particular and pointed. she can go from superiority and poise to crude and sharp in seconds.

Franke's voice is surprisingly deep. She can sound very blunt and gets a little gruff, but she's got charisma and sounds relaxed most of the time. She doesn't raise her voice often, she usually prefers to get her point across with a firmer tone, making her sound more grumble-y and makes it harder to understand what she's saying.

HONORABLE MENTIONS JUST BECAUSE I WANTED TO:

Mirtalas voice starts getting more raspy, similarly to Raz, and Queepie's gets a little more nasal like Frazies! He's bummed about it because he was hoping to get a deep booming voice like his dad

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whiskeyswifty · 4 months

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Feel free to bank this ask if you need more time but what are your overall thoughts? I feel like I won’t be able to ever rank this album bc it straight up doesn’t feel like an album it more feels like she was like 🤲 here ya go! Which I don’t mind too much bc there’s plenty for me to dig into here but I’m always curious to hear your takes! :)

i fully took your permission to bank this and sit on it, so thank you for that haha but FINALLY i think i can talk about it with enough perspective and time with it where novelty or initial vexations have worn off. I think for the sake being respectful of people's sensitivity (not a value judgment) i'll break it up into positives, net neutral thoughts and criticisms. So you can skip the critical section if you're unable to handle frank but thoughtful criticism of her and her work (again not a value judgement, do whatever you need to enjoy what you want to enjoy. i just enjoy engaging with art critically and it is my blog after all). I'm sure i missed something, and i'll babble about it in the near future, but for now this feels like a good place to stop and share where I've landed.

My TTPD songs on repeat (in no particular order):

The tortured poets department

down bad

so long london

but daddy i love him

florida

guilty as sin

who's afraid of little old me

loml

broken heart

smallest man

clara bow

the black dog

i'mgonnagetyouback

i look in people's windows

so high school

the prophecy

POSITIVES:

loml upon first listen was my favorite and is probably the most Taylor swift song on this album, in the best way. the soft and emotive voice, rising with anger and cracking with pain. the piano and the rhyming structure of the bridge being a cascade of couplets, and even the conceit of the song! taking a well known acronym loml and despite the song being a heartbreak song, still using it in the song the way you expect. luring you in and getting you to let your guard down, knowing to wait until the right moment, and then on the LAST LINE subverting that expectation devastatingly. it's got all the swiftian motifs; the longing that lingers despite a betrayal, the magnetism of an old flame that you can never quite stamp out, haunted by it, passion as fire as it but also how it consumes and destroys, being a fool for love, the burden of remembrance and willing yourself to forget. you name it, this song's got it. just really a remarkable little gem of a song.

but after the anthology came out, loml was usurped by the prophecy. it's absoutely my favorite like hoooooooooly shit. this is what i LOOOOOOVE hearing about from her. the perspective of time!! the self reflection!! the tension of what you want vs. what you think you deserve!! The guitar plucking at the start every time makes me go AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH and the way she jumps up and down in pitch or whatever in the chorus??? WOOOOOOOO THATS THE GOOD SHIT.

the title track really grew on me (and i have supplanted the fairly obvious subject with someone else that suits my taste so i have a ball listening to it. i won't say cuz people are fucking weird on here about deviating from the ~truth~ for their own personal enjoyment but my buddies know and we all agree it makes it so much more fun). I love the melodic way she sings on this song, and it's my platonic ideal jack production, where it's imitating that 80s emotional garbled synth a la new order or erasure or the cure. i eat that shit uppppppp. that final bridge/ring situation though is..... not great and is only saved because of how the way she sings it and how it tickles my brain.

THE BLACK DOG!!!!!!!!! THE. BLACK. DOG. HELLOOOOOOOO WHAT A TUNE WHAT A SONG WHAT A SPECIFIC GIFT FOR ME. literally the starting line lyric gets me every time like WHAT A NICHE EMO BAND NOBODY KNOWS HUH. fun fact, at my moms house recently i found this framed school assignment from when i was like 14 or 15 or something. we had to do a mock front page of a newspaper as an icebreaker activity, you all know what i mean if you know what i mean. And under the music section i put "I love to listen to The Starting Line and The Killers" like askfjalskjfsadklfj. taylor clearly wrote this song about me and sorry i did all that i guess, but you can keep stalking me it's fine.

Clara bow of course absolutely incredible closer, incredible song that i've waxed poetic about several times already so i won't bore you with repeat rants. just a stunner. a curtain close of a closer as the crowd jumps up for a standing ovation.

Aaron on this album.... my guy..... WHAT a showing from someone who has jumped aboard the taylor ship and steered it into incredibly rich directions!!! i think most of my picks for My Version of this album are aaron songs, and even when i thought it was a jack song and i was ready to congratulate jack on finding a sweet spot again..... oops it was aaron ajsdlfkdsfjlkdsjflsd. THE GUY!!! THE DUDE!!! LETS HEAR IT FOR UPSTATE NEW YORK!!!

NET NEUTRALS:

album proper is very solid and fun to jump around! it took me a few listens to really dig into it, but i like it. i don't think i love it, and i think it's a middling ranking somewhere in my ranking overall. Also, I don’t think the order is particularly important, as none of these songs really need to go before or after one another as they have little to do with each other. Which is neutral, and how honestly most albums are, and I'm pretty fine with how it is now . And anyway, play through-concept albums are rare and specific but a different beast than your standard album. I’m fine with how it is because I listen to different songs in different orders each time depending on my mood. but i'm also not interested enough in the subject matter to play around with it too much. I think the album proper is a good distillation of this project's songs with a little bit for everyone in there, which to me is a marker of success, even if i would swap some anthology songs for album proper songs.

I’m not invested in her romantic life anymore, and i've noticed that seems to be one of the top complaints or roadblocks to enjoying this album, which is understandable. Especially when this one is incredibly unsympathetic, as is the sentiment writ large (and if I did care about her personal life, I would have those same roadblocks so lol). But I don’t think her diaristic songwriting is overdone or she needs to hang it up, which i've seen some people complain about. I think at this point, her choice in subject matter is what is key to the success of it. Her love life in a 2024 social landscape is yes comparatively straight, white, privileged, and because the romantic lives of people in that demo have been begun to be de-centered in culture over the course of her career, it’s now boring and rote, and we've had centuries playing out the cyclical drama of straight, white, and privileged people. But rather, her fame is what really is worth writing about imo. that’s what’s juicy about her now and what people wanna know, if she’s going to trade on personal details of her life as song fodder. She’s in such rarified air and songs that delve into how she feels about it are the best on this. what it has done to her? what has it driven her to do? The longer she spends in this machine, what does she decide is most valuable? What is worth it and what isn’t? What did she think would change and what did she think would stay the same, and which of those things was she wrong about? I love hearing about all the answers to questions like that on this album, and also answers to questions I had that she perhaps gave away unknowingly and quite…. Unbecomingly but still delicious none the less. Where we usually get one or two songs about fame per album, she has a nice handful on here and it’s so curious to me, especially considering she wasn’t raised among it. She’s an avatar for the common man in Hollywood in some ways, but losing touch with the common man more and more each day and I love seeing that documented, and how she has a self awareness about that, if no idea what to do about that. if she’s now the monster we made her, I wanna get to know that monster in all it’s ugliness and vindictiveness and whatever else lurks in there, and it seems she too is tired of caging it.

CRITICAL:

i loathe the anthology concept, mainly in how quickly she dropped it. i think the album proper is solid and dropping all those additional songs lowers the batting average significantly, as noted in many critical reviews of the album v. the anthology. I personally chalk it up to her experience with the vault tracks' success, which she mistakenly took as ALL of her songs are great and she should cut LESS of them. when the reality of that was they were received with such excitement because they had the lore of being vault songs, and they were ways for us to revisit eras of her musical styles that have long since passed, and there is IMMENSE novelty in nostalgia. I also think that if she pays attention to middling or negative reviews both from critics and fans alike (which i don't think tree puts on her desk, but she might seek it out for whatever temperature check reasons she has so i won't rule it out) she would have seen how midnights' "bonus tracks" or whatever you want to call them were received pretty unanimously as a great batch of songs, compared to polarized reactions to the album's original songs. perhaps that inspired her to approach her album release this time around by throwing spaghetti songs at the proverbial wall of an audience and seeing what sticks. i don't know if this is.... a bad approach? I don't feel great about it either, but it certainly is interesting coming from someone sooooooo meticulous in every other instance of her Taylor Swift brand in recent years. (or maybe she really did think every single song on the anthology was worthy, and that is perhaps my greater fear).

all jokes aside, I don’t actually think her and jack’s relationship has run its course in terms of inspiring one another to do new and exciting things, I just think perhaps some editing is required. I’m firmly of the camp that it’s not jack’s fault for something sounding how it does, as most people who work with him are quick to take offense to that and say that he very much is an employee as a producer. The artist is always the boss. Of course lesser artists or ones who are more friendly with him may be less honest, because of intimidation/gratitude or fondness respectively, but on the whole, it seems like he is at their mercy and will. And has the range to make music across many genres and composition styles. That being said, I do think there is a comfort in him and Taylor’s working relationship, of course because of their personal one, and that perhaps has become a bit of a hinderance to her. (He continues to make incredibly wide ranging stuff with other artists and his own music, so he stays pushing himself and being pushed) I don’t think what they make is bad, when it’s the least successful, but it’s a tad rote, heavily trodden, and flat. Perhaps the flatness in her voice on some of those songs is her trying to compliment an instrumental that is a bit flat, which is trying to keep pace with her vocals that are flat, and so on and so forth and there is no culprit but just two flat bitches saying exactly to each other. But it’s extremely frustrating if only because we have, on this album even, examples of when they both really blend beautifully and push towards something unique and exciting (Broken Heart, Black Dog, imgonnagetyouback to name a few). I would just like to see more development of sounds like that and exploration of that more boldly, as even those songs dance at the edge of progressing stylistically, but ultimately shy away from fully embracing something new.

it’s very interesting that this album does not have the same retention that her other albums have had with me, at least not instantly or in the weeks after. And what I mean by that is songs are not getting stuck in my head that much. I do not want to revisit them immediately after listening to them, and when I do, some of them have somewhat diminishing returns. And I asked myself why that is and the greater existential question of what is music supposed to be. And I think midnights is a great album to compare to this album and maybe history will make sisters of these two albums, it’s too soon to tell, but with proximity as something to inspire comparison, I think they’re great to talk about in conversation with each other. Midnights is an album that many critics and many longtime Taylor Swift fans did not enjoy to the degree of her others, and some new fans who came to her during folklore were turned off by her returned to pop in a way that some felt was empty. But what is interesting about midnights is despite the fact that the rich text isn’t really there or well articulated or particularly inspiring, the bangers are there to be so crass. Songs like antihero and bejeweled and even karma every time I would return to them or listen to them again I could not get them out of my head. Even though the lyrics are next to nothing or are the simplest versions of those concepts, the marriage of the lyrics with the melody is perfect. I wanna listen again, I get them stuck in my head, I wanna dance to them. Very little of that is on this album currently, even with songs I like or love. There are songs that I enjoy more with each listen, yes, and chew on lyrically and composition wise, but the bangers are not here, not like they have been in the past. if midnight was her putting bangers over substance, this album is her putting substance over bangers. I don’t know if either of those things is the right way to make music, or if there is a right way to make music.

This gets into the existential question that is far beyond her, and not her responsibility to answer, that is what purpose does music serve as an art form. What metrics of success do we measure it by, obviously charts and financial success not being competent measures for art? And should music, which is perhaps the most populous and accessible form of art we have on planet earth because of the universality of a banger, maybe err on the side of bangers as enjoyability is it’s main purpose? Which is to say that should it always put the song over substance? If you can manage both, which she has historically been able to do time and time again, then by all means do so. But if you find yourself wanting to choose between the two, in the aftermath of this album I think my personal feeling is this. If you’re gonna write poetry, just write poetry, but don’t tell me that it’s a song if it doesn’t bang. And I don’t mean that it has to be a pop song, I am being a bit glib. I mean that I should want to listen to it. wordiness and any flow disruptions because of it should not take priority over the fact that it it a song and it should be pleasing to listen to, more so than it needs to be poetic. This album is a bit indulgent in the latter and i feel the songs that couldn't bend to the will of the "poetry" suffered. I think that’s ultimately what makes this album so easy and delicious to talk about because it is forcing us to ask these questions. Not just of music in general, but of Taylor Swift who, in a lot of ways, is a microcosm of the music industry. No I don’t mean that ~she is the music industry~ silly way that people refer to her. But I mean in the way that Taylor is a good case study in asking ourselves what we want from music because she is capable of all of the things that music is capable of. Even further, it’s us asking ourselves what we consider to be successful music. I recognize that this is an incredibly personal question for everyone in the sense that the success of music and art is a subjective opinion and that I am once again wading into waters where my feet don’t touch the ground but I do think it’s what makes talking about all of this so fun and why I find it to be an engaging and important and stimulating debate that we will probably have for eternity, or at least as long as Taylor Swift keeps making music.

#i'm not going to answer the other anons asking about my thoughts directly #so this one is for ALL of you!#and i'm so flattered that you even care what i think lol so thank you for sending those! i was probably going to post my thoughts anyway #but it's nice to have some encouragement :)#my silly little essays

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ddlcpoly · 1 month

Text

MC and Monika walk into the clubroom, I look down at my desk, I sneak a glance towards Yuri, looking up at her, I feel bad when I see her, but if I ever want to talk to her normally again I have to do this. I think back to that night, that day was fun and I felt free that day to be honest, as free as I had felt in a long time, that’s probably why I did something so stupid. All of my clubmates are hot, ok, I said it! Not only that but they’re all so nice and caring and good to me. I think I’m in love with all of them, I don’t know, at least I think I find them all attractive and I want them to be with me for the rest of my time. So a few months back I was hanging out with Yuri when we just kinda leaned on each other and it lead to us kissing, so we started dating from there, but i always knew that I didn’t ONLY love her, but I kept myself quiet, I have a beauty Big Tiddy Goth GF and amazing friends, why risk it all for something so greedy?

But in the festival, me and MC kinda got lost and I sprained my ankle, after I stepped on a crack some idiot hadn’t filled out that day, so he carried me to a bench nearby, from there he started helping out my ankle, I jokingly told him “You kinda look like a servant washing my royal feet. Fitting for someone like you.” and he quickly replied “If it was you I wouldn’t mind that.” I think it was something that he just said without thought, cuz he then quickly shut himself up, I start blushing “Dummy, don’t say that kinda stuff to me” I bonked his head with my fist “Uh, yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean it.” “What do you mean ‘you didn’t mean it’” and blurted out by accident “Uh, I, um, I mean.” “Uh, oh, um. Dude you’re just embarrassing yourself.”

I don’t know why I did that, I just hated the situation we were in and so I just instinctively started insulting him, but then he stood up, it looked like he had tears in his eyes “What do you want for me?!” he yelped pathetically “I want you to stop making me fall further for you!” I blurted that out as, well and then I quickly shut my trap. He seemed at a lost for words for the few seconds I saw his face, as I quickly hid mine. I faintly heard him say “I feel the same.” I turned up towards him, confused and disgusted, to be frank, “YOU PERVERT!” I yelled out at him, then I quickly sucker punched his cheek and ran away.

The group eventually found me. They found MC first sitting on the bench that I left him at and he told them where I went, eventually catching up to me. I didn’t speak to him about it and since that night I couldn’t really face anyone at the club.

I did some reflecting and I think that when I called MC a perv I was also calling myself one, we’re both the same, two losers with loving girlfriends that fucked up by falling in love with other people. I don’t think I can ever forgive myself.

I feel a hand placed on top of mine, then I realize that a tear was rolling down my cheek, I see whose hand it is, Sayori looks at me with an empathetic smile. She was the one who called everyone here, so explained to me that Md told her that we basically confessed to each other the morning after the festival… Who am I kidding? We LITERALLY confessed to each other. I feel kinda shit right now, the girl who I hurt by being a greedy little asshole is here holding my hand with her delicate fingers. How could I deserve being friends with her, let alone think that she might like me? I feel dirty, disgusting.

“Hey, it’s alright.” Sayori calmly states. “But it’s not!” I yell out, MC and Monika stop in their tracks and Yuri sadly looks at me as Sayori keeps that smile to try and comfort me. “I did something shitty and I was lying to Yuri all throughout our relationship.” I feel my eyes start to well up. “I don’t deserve anything!” “NATSUKI!” I hear Yuri yell out my name “P-please don’t say that. It’s true that you made a mistake that night, but I also did something that betrayed your trust and I am truly sorry, but I still love you and I like to believe that I know more than anyone else that you are someone not only worthy of love, but someone who I desire to love for ages to come.” I stop crying for a bit, I’m about to retort her, but she starts talking first “Even so, I am aware of both my feelings and yours, that we don’t only desire to love each other.” my eyes widen “Wh-what are you saying? Wait. Are you implying that?” she starts blushing like a tomato, hiding her face in her hair.

“That’s why I want all of us to come here. I think we should all talk about what we all feel, no lies, no half-truths, no judgment and no guilt. We can’t keep hiding these feelings from each other and keep them causing us pain.”

Monika and MC sit down, “I agree.” Monika pipes up “Whenever you’re ready Vice-President.” Sayori takes a deep breath.

2/4

#ddlc #ddlc poly #doki doki literature club #ddlc sayori #ddlc monika #ddlc natsuki #ddlc yuri #ddlc mc #Polyclub Start!

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 1 year

Text

Worth the Price of a Bottle of Pop

So, anybody want a crack-fic with Kayne, Arthur, and too much sugar even for an Outer God?

Sugar calculations now included at the end, because why not?

AO3

-------------

“What is so special about you? I checked. I watched your life unfold, Arty. I went back to see… well. I watched you grow, you graduate, you fall in love! Or… like. Let’s call it like. I watched your parents kill themselves, I watched your wife die, your child drown… boy, you’ve had a lot of death around you!”

Which could be the reason, though boring as fuck. There was sometimes an aggravatingly stubborn balance the universe pooped out.

Like pinning a paintbrush to the canvas instead of letting it sweep.

Like stuffing a fist (with or without arm, unimportant) into a tuba before it went full Flight of the Bumblebee.

Like—

“And?” says Arthur, getting all tough (it was cute, Kayne could admit it, like a kitten going floof), as if none of that recitation had hurt him.

Oh, it hurt him. Kayne can see the bleeding, the deep and lambent ooze from the wounds in his soul this self-hating moron literally prevented from healing.

“And,” says Kayne, “I still don’t see what the big deal is. I don’t see why you managed to survive. Anyone else, and believe me, I’ve checked the math through trial and tribulation (though not my own)... anyone who would’ve opened that book and taken what you took from Hastur would’ve died. They all die! Popped like a ripe cherry.” And he laughs.

Because… well. They did.

Kayne hits pause and returns to one of his game’s saved states.

It isn’t enough to just watch Arthur’s life. Obviously, he’s missed something, so he tries again.

It makes sense to start with the closest connected factor?

But Parker just blows right the fuck up, and while it is pretty funny (the unpredictability of bloodstain patterns when magic was the murder weapon never ceases to delight) (and and and Arthur has a lovely screaming voice), it obviously isn’t the answer.

Whatever. He buys a bottle of pop (never quite tastes as good in later times) and returns to the game in progress.

“So?” Arthur challenges, just so very spunky.

“So what’s so special about the little boy from Arkham that made it so? What’s so strong about you that I can’t figure out?”

Ooh, from Arkham. That was an idea.

Pause.

Six tests in (and twenty-eight bottles of pop), Kayne’s finally sure it isn’t Arkham.

He tries people who moved there, and people who were born there.

He tries Anna Stanczyk, who’s indirectly tied to old Shubby via blood and family, and that doesn’t work.

He tries Frank Underhill, because at least that guy’s got a more direct connection to the idiot deities running around like bugs with delusions of grandeur.

Popped. Popped. Popped.

It ain’t location, and it ain’t blood. Hm.

Maybe it was Arthur himself?

Kayne goes back again, kills young Arthur, turns his body to ash, and lives his life.

It’s not like he hadn’t watched it a dozen times already. Really fucking easy to make all the same choices, and have all the silly conversations—

(And bathe in that self-torturing self-centered bizarro balance Arthur seems to have, which makes no sense because he hates it about himself but still chooses it and doesn’t even know why and isn’t that delicious?)

—and make the same connections and write the same songs—

(Maybe not all the same, maybe there are some special tricks hidden in the ones he performs himself for recording, but nobody’s gonna really notice until the bloodshed, and he timed it all to come true after the book opens so it won’t interfere with the test.)

—and fuck pretty Bella and make little Faroe—

(And she won’t come out the same, no she won’t, and surely it makes no difference to store her away instead of killing her because when she comes of age that’ll be a laugh and a half… but pretending she’s dead, anyway, which is so easy to do.)

—and making reluctant friends with Parker and becoming a P.I. and finally getting the gods-damned book in the mail and opening it up and—

Popped?

Popped.

Popped!

What the hell! He did everything right! It’s entirely Arthur’s body! Whatever he had in him should’ve worked, but nooo, instead he had to die, and ooze, and splatter Parker with skull bits, and that was a fucking waste of thirty-four years. Ugh!

He calms down by drinking fourteen bottles of pop in a row and melting the glass into madness-inducing runes.

Fine. Still no answers. Fine.

He peeks to make sure Faroe’s alive (because she is gonna be a riot when puberty hits), and finally resumes his game in progress.

“I… I don’t know,” says Arthur, which is not the answer Kayne wanted to hear.

“But you do. You have to, ‘cause if I don’t, that only leaves one other person. So we’ve both walked a mile in your shoes, kiddo. Take a wild guess: why are you so different?”

“What do you mean?” says Arthur, who really seems to be some kind of freaky one-off, and for someone so self-centered is really missing the point that this is all about him. “Why am I…”

“So different?” Kayne’s being patient because this has actually gotten interesting. “No wrong answers here. Come on, let me hear it. First thing that comes to mind. Shoot it out!”

And then Arthur makes up some absolutely Hallmark-level bullshit about being human, and Kayne has to pause the world again so he can laugh his ass right off.

Oh. Oh, that’s just… too much.

Human. Sure.

Though maybe it’s not completely off?

Kayne couldn’t replicate Arthur’s human soul, after all.

Could it be something… soul-related?

Huh.

That’d be weird.

Because Kayne sees souls (eats souls, shreds souls, cuts them into shapes and sews them together wrong), and Arthur’s really seems completely normal, utterly banal, which makes no sense unless there’s some kind of—

“What the fuck are you doing?” bellows Sothoth, and the whole, frozen world damn near crumbles down.

“What?” says Kayne with all the guilt-free confidence of a cat.

“There have been complaints,” says Sothoth, who looks like an office manager, whose double-breasted plaid suit somehow speaks money and dullness at the same time. “You’ve created at least a dozen unstable timelines, without warning anybody, in the span of an hour! What is going on?”

“Oh, it’s all for this guy.” Kayne waves his hand and points.

Sothoth adjusts his totally unnecessary c-bridge pince-nez (which nevertheless do a great job showing off the third eye he bothers manifesting) and looks.

There is a long, stupid pause.

“What the hell am I supposed to be looking at?”

“Right? You don’t get it, either!” Kayne feels weirdly justified in his confusion.

“It’s… a human, with part of… what the hell is that? Hastur? It looks like Hastur. Except it isn’t.”

“Yeah, that idiot tried to steal a portal and got cut in half. Hilarious, right? But lookit! He’s in a human! And he’s changed!”

“This shouldn’t be possible.” Sothoth’s tone has changed, too, and Kayne does not like it, because now, it is darkly and distinctly interested. “I don’t see why it happened.”

“Or why the human is alive.” Kayne can’t help boasting a little. “I’ve already checked him out. Little Arthur here is a great big weirdo! At least, I think he is.”

“An interesting human.” Sothoth is thoughtful. “How unusual.” His eyes (so many! That show-off) have gone a sick, corpse-yellow, and his red pupils slit with focus.

Nope, not letting that play out. “This one’s my game,” says Kayne. “I already licked it. My mess, my conundrum. I saw it first.”

“You’re just going to kill them,” Sothoth points out, which is completely accurate.

“Well, sure, but not yet. I want answers.”

Sothoth sighs and dabs his forehead with a handkerchief that matches his silk tie. He looks put-upon, wearily managerial, and his rings each carry more power than an entire exploding sun. “There. Have been. Complaints.”

“If somebody’s got a problem, tell them to come to me about it.”

“No, because you’ll just kill them, too,” Sothoth says, being so aggravatingly reasonable.

“So?” Kayne challenges.

Sothoth eyes him. “Are we going to come to blows about this?”

That’d be annoying.

They’ve already done it twice, and then had to go rebuild the universes from scratch or there’d be nothing to play in, and it was a pain in the ass, and all the resident Old Ones (great and otherwise) bitched the whole time, and it wasn’t fun, and Kayne doesn’t like things that aren’t fun.

Hence the killing.

“No,” Kayne mutters. “We’re not.”

“You’ll restrain yourself?”

Kayne snorts. “Sure, that’s what I like to do with my time.” Sothoth gives him a look, and Kayne rolls his eyes. “All right, all right.” He throws his hands in the air. “I’ll just deal with these two, okay? Just fuck with this timeline. For a while, anyway, until the little pea-bruised princesses calm down. I promise.”

He says nothing about the Faroe he left under Daniel’s tender care, because a fucking Freemason priest raising a girl in tight and miserable morality with chaos in her soul is bound to be hilarious.

Also, it’s not him messing with that timeline if she’s the one doing things, right? She lives there! It’s her reality to break!

Sothoth visibly does not believe him, anyway. Looks like he’s about to produce paperwork, or something.

Kayne crosses his arms.

Finally, Kayne’s fellow Outer God shrugs. “If you make a mess, you clean it up.” And he vanishes.

“Way to kill the mood,” Kayne mutters, and tunes back in.

“...that humanity that allowed this fragment of a god to stay within me,” Arthur is droning on, and it is still funny, but less than it was.

Kayne sighs. “Eh… maybe. Probably? Naw. No, I don’t think so. Maybe? Probably not. Got another guess?”

“I… I have no other guesses,” Arthur says, because he put all his pwecious heart and soul into that tooth-rot of an answer. “You know more than me, clearly, by a country mile.”

And Kayne cracks up.

Because even though he’d lived Arthur’s life, he had not expected that phrase, didn’t even know Arthur knew it. Surprise (which is delight) cranks the saturation back up to eleven and peaks his interest all over again.

What else can Arthur do that’s surprising?

“Wait,” says Arthur, doing one such thing right now. “You said you saw my life. My daughter. My wife. You… you lived my life?”

So Arthur caught that.

Even John had not, and John’s shock is just whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles.

“‘Lived’ is such a primitive word,” says Kayne, because he likes making people feel dumb. “Let’s just say… I understand you very well.”

Except he doesn’t.

He does not. This dorky little human, who would live and die and never make the history books, is surprising him.

“You know, I think I’m starting to like you,” he warns with great cheer.

And that should fucking terrify these two.

It doesn’t yet—but it will. It’s like making a joke they won’t get for a year.

This is all about planting seeds, after all, and seeing how Arthur’s soul makes them mutate.

So it’s worrying at Arthur’s emotional wounds via the music box, because Arthur’s soul bleeding is funny.

And it’s doomsaying to shake them both up and get them crazy to break away from “fate” (which isn’t a thing, but boy are these two afraid it is).

And a dagger, because a little violence never hurt anyone. Except whoever was on the other end, of course.

Then it’s off to the cheap seats, the metaphorical bleachers, where Kayne has settled in with some good old-fashioned popcorn and twelve 5¢ bottles of pop (real sugar, none of that corn garbage, which was funny as hell in terms of damage but tasted like absolute shit), and a show he’s going to remember for years.

And the dagger is used.

And the blood is great.

And everybody is wailing, and Kayne is having a blast.

Lucky them.

When he gets bored, he’ll kill them all—but he isn’t bored yet.

Lucky, lucky them.

(Was it luck? Naw. If it was, though, it’d be bad luck, and that sure was funny.)

So. This game. For a while.

Then off to see what Faroe is doing, and maybe nudge her along and see what she did if he went Vader to her Luke.

This, Kayne thinks, was well worth the price of a bottle of pop, and he cracks open another one and chugs.

---------

NOTES

So, hey! He drank 55 bottles of Coca-Cola.

In 1934, the bottles came in 6.5oz.

Each bottle contained 24.65g of sugar.

So, uh. By the end of this affair, he's had 1355.75g of sugar.

That's how you do it, I guess?

I am aware what I have wrought by creating a Faroe of this nature. We will see where THAT plot-bunny goes in the future.

And I'm quite sure all that sugar can't be good even for a being of chaos and death, but I'm sure as hell not gonna tell him.

#kayne malevolent #malevolent kayne #malevolent #malevolentpod #malevolent pod #malevolent fic #malevolent fanfic #malevolent podcast #malevolent arthur #malevolent faroe

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