#(( somebody will seriously need to stop me or I will keep on making these silly comics )) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

prentissluvr · 1 year ago

Text

two mugs, half empty — luke alvez

pairing : luke alvez x bau!gn!reader (can be read as platonic or romantic) ➖⟢ genre : hurt/comfort ➖⟢ cw : feelings of guilt and shame, nightmare mentions, talk of canon typical violence, crying ➖⟢ wc : 2.8K

“you look like hell.”

“wow, thank you, luke. way to compliment somebody,” you deadpan, even though he said it with a voice full of empathy. he gives you a good-natured roll of his eyes before his face returns to that concerned look you opened your apartment door to.

“but seriously, did you sleep at all over the weekend?” you want to hate how much he cares about you, but the sincerity of his voice has you nearly ready to cave.

“come in,” you offer, completely ignoring his question because the answer is “no, not really.” he raises his eyebrows at your lack of response, but steps in after you anyways. he can guess the answer well enough from the exhaustion evident in your whole figure.

you sit down with him in the kitchen, grabbing him a glass of water before he can say no to it. his gaze on you is heavy, but you ignore it in favor of examining the wood of the table in front of you. since you won’t say anything, he goes first.

“i came to check on you,” he states the obvious, “i’m– we’re kinda worried about you, you know? like, you haven’t responded to any of my texts all day and you never call in sick, even when you probably should, so i figured you’d probably be bedridden for you to make the choice to stay home.” he pauses for a long moment, as if inviting for you to explain why you’re, in fact, not bedridden, and not really physically sick at all. you don’t say a word. “so,” he prompts, “what’s up? why’d you turn down drinks with the rest of the team on saturday? kinda feels like you’re avoiding us.”

“i am avoiding you guys,” your voice comes out far quieter than you intended. you had wanted to sound nonchalant, and all you got was exhaustion. you sigh before continuing, “because you’re profilers and i don’t want to talk about it.” he sighs too.

“if it’s so bad that you went to the lengths to call off sick from work to avoid talking about it, it seems to me like it’s something you should talk about.”

you turn your head even further from him because you know he’s right. you’ve been holed up in your apartment, agonizing over what happened three nights ago, desperate to scream and cry about it to someone else. god knows you’ve done enough of that with yourself, but you’re reverting to old habits and it feels like you’re back to only knowing how to avoid, avoid, and keep avoiding.

“listen, i don’t want to push you, but i need you to know that i’m here for you.” his hand hovers over yours for a moment, silently asking permission before gently wrapping his fingers around yours. you clench your jaw and bite the inside of your cheek to keep tears from forming in your eyes. honestly, you didn’t think you could produce anymore, but here you are, trying not to cry in front of your coworker turned close friend whom you’ve probably upset by ignoring him.

luke gains a little bit of hope when you squeeze his hand. he squeezes back, hoping you feel the love and care that he puts into it. you do, and it doesn’t help your case with the whole crying ordeal.

“thanks,” you whisper. the thickness in your voice completely gives you away. tilting your head up to try to stop the flow of tears is plain old silly at this point, and he watches with a weight heavy on his heart as they overflow and fall down your cheeks. the tears catch in the light of the only lamp that’s turned on in the room. “fuck. goddammit,” you curse through the tears, well aware they won’t stop anytime soon. “luke,” you cry.

“i’m here,” he replies so earnestly without missing a beat that you begin to cry harder. that’s the last straw for him. quickly, he stands and wraps you up in his arms without a second thought. with you sitting, your face barely reaches his chest, and your arms reach around his lower torso. he’s got one hand rubbing up and down your back, the other cradling the back of your head into him. the way you hold onto him is desperate and breaks his heart, but he’s glad to give you something that you so clearly need. comfort.

“i–,” you try to explain, but you can’t get anywhere before choking on your own sobs.

“shhh, it’s okay. just let it out. i’m not going anywhere.” and he sticks to that promise, standing strong and unwavering, even after your tears run out and you can’t find it in yourself to pull away from him just yet. he doesn’t force a thing, just strokes the back of your head gently as a silent reminder that he’s there.

when you finally pull away, it’s only by a few inches, and he keeps his hands right where they are. he looks down at your face as you stare at the maroon fabric of his shirt and the tear stain you left behind. slowly, as if to not startle you, he bends down to be closer to your level. at first, you avoid meeting his eyes, but when the hand on your shoulder shifts up to your cheek and he gently wipes at the leftover tears, you let your gaze meet his. he gives you a smile, small and comforting, before speaking softly.

“i’m gonna make you some tea, alright?”

when you nod, his hands slide away from you, hesitant to let you go. your gaze follows his form as he turns and walks to the counter behind you, first grabbing your favorite mug from the cabinet and taking the liberty to grab one for himself too. then he’s at the pantry for the tea bags and he can feel your eyes on him. once the tea bags are on the counter, he’s by your side again. he gives you another soft smile as he grips the sides of your chair and turns it and you to face the counter. somehow luke just knows that him staying in your line of sight is a comfort to you, proof that he’s right there. he doesn’t want you to have to strain your neck in order to feel safe.

his silence as he fills and turns on the kettle, then sits back down beside you to wait for it to boil is a comfort too. it makes a difference that he’s not making you explain anything.

with him, the passage of time isn’t so horrible, and it’s easy to wait for the tea to be ready. when he sets the mug down in front of you, he tells you to be careful since it’s hot, even though you already know it. that’s when you make the decision that you will tell him what’s kept you holed up in your apartment for three days straight, what made you cry into his arms and skip work today.

it takes you four minutes of failed attempts to open your mouth and force a sound out of your throat before you finally get any words out. four minutes of sipping tea and thinking about how to start or how grateful you are that he’s here.

first comes a big, deep breath and another long moment of quiet. and then you realize you can’t just get into you, so you do your best and start by skirting around the actual problem.

“i know this job–” you have to clear your throat, “i know this job is really hard.” that sentence is kind of stupid purely because of how obvious it is, but you’ve at least started to tell him what this is all about. “and we’ve all learned ways to cope with that. i just– the way that, uh,” you pause to try and collect yourself a bit, but it does nothing to keep your voice from getting quiet, “the way that this last case ended? it, um, it…” suddenly you’re unsure what to even say. luke places his hand over your own, easing its shaking. you take another deep breath.”i can’t– i can’t get it out of my head. i can’t get her dead body out of my head and i can’t shake the feeling that it’s my fault.”

he’s about to say something, assure you that it absolutely was not your fault, but then everything comes tumbling out.

“i know, logically, technically, that it’s not. i know that, i’ve rationalized this whole thing in my head, even out loud, over and over and over again for the past three days. i know, we didn’t profile him to be so paranoid. i played into his narcissism like i was supposed to, like anyone of us would have, but fuck! it was still my words that set him off, the shit i said got a bullet through her brain.” he squeezes your hand in support. “and when i wake up from the nightmares, i can still hear her whimpers as he held her at gunpoint, even worse, arguably, is her mom begging me to bring her home alive that same morning. you know what i told her? that we were doing everything we could to find her and bring her back, i promised.” the tears start up again. “i told her not to give up hope because the people i work with are incredibly good at their jobs. then i see her sobbing in the corner of the police station after rossi told her that her daughter was fucking dead. and you know what i fucking did? i put my head down and walked in the opposite direction with the excuse that reid could use some help taking down the evidence board.”

your voice gets even shakier and the furrow in his worried brow deepens as you continue talking. “and i’m so ashamed, i’m so fucking ashamed, luke. i got her daughter killed and i couldn’t even tell her that–” a sob cuts you off, “that i’m sorry,” you cry. “i couldn’t face her. i couldn’t bear to see her crying about it or try and comfort her about it because i was too goddamn guilty to even look her in the eye. and now i see her and her dead daughter everytime i close my eyes.”

the silence after that is colossally heavy. to hear his softest voice calling your name as you stare into your half empty mug is enough to send more tears rushing down your cheeks. he sounds so heartbroken for you, like even he’s choked up by hearing your longwinded confession.

the way he moves is both careful and purposeful as he stands and urges you back into his embrace. this time your crying is quiet, just tears without sobs because you don’t have that left in you. it’s more short lived because it seems like your body’s finally run out of tears to give too. with one side of your face pressed against his shirt and his hands holding you there, it does feel a bit easier to breathe.

when he starts to talk, his voice is as soft as it has been all night. “i don’t want to tell you to just not feel ashamed or guilty. i wish you wouldn’t have to feel that way, really. but i want you to know that i understand. i don’t want to invalidate those things because they are real and they hurt and i understand why you’re feeling them. but it is not your fault. not for one second is it your fault. i’m sure you’ve reminded yourself this already, but we can never forget that it is only ever the fault of the people who pull the trigger on innocent lives.”

you nod because he’s right, you’ve told yourself that many times. but you realize it makes a difference to hear these things out of his mouth, not just from your mind that was only desperate to ease your guilt. you suppose that’s what he wants too, but it’s somehow better.

he pulls away from you, and positions the chairs so that you’re sitting knee to knee as he holds both of your hands in his. he looks you in the eye as he speaks, every ounce of sincerity visible in his face and easy to hear in his voice.

“and we just can’t be perfect, we can’t be expected to be everything for everyone every time. dealing with family members who have lost their loved ones is one of, if not the, hardest thing that we have to do for this job. rossi was there for her this time, and it’s okay if it was too hard for you. what you did is completely understandable and completely okay. throughout this whole case, you followed procedure and you followed the profile. we all did. so if any of us stood where you did, with the mother and with the unsub, the same exact same thing could have happened. would you blame me for it if i were in your place?” he gently wipes a stray tear from your cheek.

slowly, with his hand still cupping your face, you shake your head. “and would you forgive me for it?” it takes you a long moment of holding back more cries to answer, silently and slowly again. up and down, just once, you nod your head.

“there’s your answer. you’re allowed to not blame yourself and you’re allowed to forgive yourself. you are allowed to feel okay because we can’t fix this world, but we are making it better and we certainly deserve our own happiness. there will always be people who die and the people they leave behind. we just have to keep going because we are still saving lives. even more, our lives deserve to be protected as much as anyone else’s. we do that by allowing ourselves happiness, a life outside of all of the pain and gore and monsters of the world we work in. i’m sorry, and the things i say can’t make this all just go away. but i’m here for you and i think that being reminded of these things is a must for all of us. today’s one of those days where you deserve to be reminded.”

you don’t even think you could really cry again, even if you wanted to, but you certainly feel like it. only this time, it’s out of relief. your guilty conscience still tries to fight with his words, but the part of you that knows he’s right is holding onto his comfort with all it’s got and it’s making you want to burst into tears again. being reminded of your right to let it go is something you’ve needed, not just for this case, but for months. you didn’t even realize, but you’ve holding onto little things here and there and letting it build up until it all blew up in your face last friday night. so to let that all out and feel comforted is a relief far stronger than anything you’ve felt before.

“thank you.” your voice is back at a whisper, but you hope he can hear how much you mean it. you think he does when he smiles.

“of course. you’ll always have me, and you have everyone else on the team too, you know that.”

you nod and do your best to smile back. “thank you,” you repeat. you don’t even know what else to say. “and um, i’m always here for you too, luke. you know, just when i’m not a complete hot mess.” the lighter tone in your voice as you attempt a joke is luke’s relief, the relief that you’re on the way to feeling better.

“thanks,” he chuckles lightly. the sound makes you glad.

“hey luke?”

“yeah?” he replied in earnest, eager to give.

“can we order some thai food and watch movies until we fall asleep on the couch?”

that really makes him happy, and he grins like he always does to show it. “you know it.” so, he buys you food and tells you to pick all the movies. he lets you lean on him when you get tired, then carries you to bed and tucks you in when you fall asleep halfway through the first film. he stalls in your room by fixing the hair the falls onto your face and pressing a light kiss to your forehead. then he leaves the door cracked, just in case, and takes a while to fall asleep on your couch after putting the leftovers in the fridge. he cries a little, because he hates that it’s so hard for you, and it’s hard for him too.

at the end of the day though, he’s just glad you’ll be okay.

223 notes · View notes

thelonelyshore-if · 8 months ago

Text

1k Followers Drabble

I finally settled on how I wanted to celebrate 1k followers--by sharing a bit of fun ~extra content~ with you all! It isn't quite a traditional drabble, but I really enjoy what I've come up with.

Below the cut is a 'transcript' from Perri's radio show. The transcript is taken from the night MC washed up on shore, and surrounds some 'theories' citizens have of who this mysterious new stranger could be. Mostly the goal was to be silly, give a taste of what Perri's show is like, and show Perri and Beck's characters a bit more!

I hope you enjoy <3

THE LONELY SHORE

10/11/XXXX

LOVELESS:

Good evening, creatures of the night. This is your host, Perri Loveless. Sunday nights are typically reserved for local hauntings and ghost stories, but we have a breaking news story! Tonight, we’ll be discussing the story of the Drowned Stranger.

SOUND:

Waves lap against shore, THEME SONG plays before fading out, segue into…

–

LOVELESS:

Welcome back. An incredible thing has happened, listeners. An almost unbelievable thing. Only a few hours ago, an unidentified individual was rushed into Easthaven Medical in potentially critical condition.

We have on the line a witness who would like to remain anonymous.

Hello–are you there?

WITNESS:

Ah–hello. Yes, I’m here.

LOVELESS:

We’re glad to have you, thank you for being willing to speak on your experience. Please–tell us about what you witnessed earlier tonight.

WITNESS:

Sure. So I was just about to leave the hospital when it happened. I, uh. Don’t need to tell you why I was there, do I?

LOVELESS:

Of course not. Please, if you’re comfortable, just tell us what you saw.

WITNESS:

Okay, good. So, I was standing there in the lobby, and I see a truck tearing into the lot like a bat out of hell. Seriously–it’s like they were firefighters trying to put out a house fire, right? Clearly something’s up, so I decided to stick around to watch.

LOVELESS:

Wow. It sounds like the situation was urgent.

WITNESS:

Seemed like it. So the truck stops so fast I was half sure they’d crash. Before I know it, the driver’s door flies open. You said I couldn’t tell you who it was?

LOVELESS:

We’d prefer to keep identities private until we know more about the story, yes. Thank you.

WITNESS:

Alright. So the, uh, driver gets out and immediately opens the back door. I’m standing there watching as they grab something out of the back seat.

LOVELESS:

Something?

WITNESS:

Someone. It was a person–it was a stranger. To be honest, the person looked dead. The driver scoops the stranger up like a sack of potatoes and pretty much runs up to the door. I’m just standing there with my mouth hangin’ open, but then I make myself useful and hold the door.

LOVELESS:

What can you tell me about the stranger?

WITNESS:

Not much. Like I said, they looked like the hospital wouldn’t do ‘em much good, if you know what I mean. But the freakiest thing was that they were dripping wet. Just, completely soaked.

A storm’s been rolling in all night, but it hadn’t hit yet. I don’t know where this person came from, but they were soaked to the bone and out cold.

LOVELESS:

Incredible. What happened next?

WITNESS:

I mean–they rushed the stranger into a room, so I didn’t really see much after that. Somebody parked the truck but I didn’t stick around to see who it was. The whole situation kind of gave me the creeps? So I just…left after that.

LOVELESS:

Sure, sure. Do you have any theories about where the stranger came from?

WITNESS:

Uh. They were pretty wet. The lake or the river, probably.

LOVELESS:

Hm. Interesting. Thank you again for your testimony!

Alright, listeners, what do you think? An unidentified individual was brought to the hospital, unconscious and, apparently, wet. What possibly could have happened?

Give us a call at XXX-XXXX and we’ll get you on air!

VOICE:

Seriously? What else could it be if not the lake? Or the river, I guess.

LOVELESS:

Hush. I’m on air! If you want to share a theory–

VOICE:

Nah, you know I don’t. I’m just saying.

LOVELESS:

Then wait until the show’s done.

VOICE:

*LAUGHTER*

Fine–fine! You win.

SOUND:

Brief instrumental plays, interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing.

LOVELESS:

You’re on air at The Lonely Shore! Hi, there, good evening!

CALLER 1:

It was aliens.

LOVELESS:

Oh, interesting–I wouldn’t be surprised if extraterrestrial life was somehow involved. Tell me more.

CALLER 1:

Reverse alien abduction.

*LONG PAUSE*

LOVELESS:

Hello? Are you still there.

CALLER 1:

Mm-hmm.

LOVELESS:

Reverse alien abduction. Sure. Do you mean…instead of picking someone up, the aliens dropped someone off? Or more like–

CALLER 1:

Stranger is an alien. Wolf in sheep’s clothes. An alien with human skin, dumped out some kind of vat into our town. Gonna steal our secrets.

LOVELESS:

A vat–that would explain why the stranger was, uh. Damp.

CALLER 1:

Alien juice.

VOICE:

*LOUDER LAUGHTER*

*choked* Juice!

LOVELESS:

*hushed* If you can’t be polite–

VOICE:

Sorry, sorry.

CALLER 1:

Who’s in there with you? Can you trust ‘em? I thought this program was safe–

LOVELESS:

It is! I’ve just got an. Um. Station assistant here. I promise, we’re here to listen.

CALLER 1:

Really shoulda warned me you weren’t alone–wouldn’t have called you at all if I thought somebody else’d be listening.

LOVELESS:

Sir, this is a radio show?

SOUND:

Phone clicks, returning to instrumental. Music plays until–phone rings again.

LOVELESS:

Um–hello! You’re on The Lonely Shore. The…ah, the radio show. Thank you for calling!

VOICE:

Smooth

LOVELESS:

Would you be quiet?

CALLER 2:

Excuse me!?

LOVELESS:

Ah, not you, ma’am! Talking to my…dog. Won’t stop barking. Anyway, thank you again for calling to share your theory!

CALLER 2:

I think you should be ashamed of yourself.

LOVELESS:

…what?

CALLER 2:

Nice new face in town and you’re already spreading nasty rumors! People listen to the radio to hear news and some nice music at the end of a long day. Not this filth.

VOICE:

Oh f*** off.

LOVELESS:

Beck!

CALLER 2:

How dare you! Never in all my days have I been treated…all the ways to speak to a customer…my hard earned tax dollars don’t pay you to insult me!

LOVELESS:

That’s not really how it…

CALLER 2:

I swear, I’ll end this program! I’m friends with very important people in city hall and when I’m through with–

SOUND:

Phone clicks, instrumental resumes.

LOVELESS:

*hushed* can you please not insult my callers.

BECK:

She was being a major–

LOVELESS:

Please.

BECK:

*sigh* I’m sorry. For real. I just don’t like people talking to you like–

LOVELESS:

I know, but I can handle much worse than getting scolded.

BECK:

You’re right.

SOUND:

Instrumental ends, cut off by the phone ringing.

LOVELESS:

Hello! You’re on the air with The Lonely Shore. We’re currently looking for theories about the Drowned Stranger.

CALLER 3:

I’ve got a theory.

LOVELESS:

Excellent, please share your thoughts.

CALLER 3:

I don’t think the stranger came from the lake. Not originally.

LOVELESS:

Where did they come from?

CALLER 3:

I’ve called to tell you this before, but I live right next to the graveyard. Somebody has been digging up graves and stealing body parts.

LOVELESS:

Oh, yes–I remember your call from a few weeks back.

CALLER 3:

I finally figured out what they needed the parts for. I think it was the Hermit.

LOVELESS:

That’s an…um, bold accusation. Usually they’re pretty reclusive.

CALLER 3:

You think I don’t know that? It’s the reason that they’ve been stealing body parts. I think the Hermit’s lonely–and they’ve built themself a grandchild.

LOVELESS:

Like…out of dead people? Like Frankenstein’s monster?

CALLER 3:

Just like that, yes! You understand. I think they finally managed to create life, and now their creation is in our town!

LOVELESS:

Do you think that the creation was. Ah. Grown in a vat, at all?

CALLER 3:

Like that fool said earlier? Of course not, aren’t you listening? The Hermit sewed a bunch of bits from our lost loved ones together to make an abomination.

LOVELESS:

You’re right, sorry. The witness just said that they were–

CALLER 3:

Wet? Yes, I was getting to that. I think the abomination escaped. You know the Hermit’s cabin’s right up against shore? I think the creature accidentally walked into the lake.

LOVELESS:

Hm.

CALLER 3:

And then when some good samaritans saw what they thought was someone drowning–

LOVELESS:

They swooped in and saved them?

CALLER 3:

Exactly!

LOVELESS:

That is quite the interesting theory! It would explain the grave robberies you’ve reported…

CALLER 3:

I wouldn’t be surprised if the Hermit had killed to add to the abomination, either. Maybe the Edwards girl didn’t get lost in the woods at all!

LOVELESS:

um.

CALLER 3:

We could have a killer in our midst.

LOVELESS:

You know, all theories are welcome here, but–

CALLER 3:

Why aren’t you listening? We could ALL be in danger!

LOVELESS:

Out of respect to her family–

CALLER 3:

Her family should know what really happened to her.

LOVELESS:

Okay. Well–thank you for calling! Listeners, we’re going to go to a quick commercial break.

SOUND:

Phone clicks, instrumental resumes and commercials begin. Unheard by the listeners…

BECK:

Jesus.

LOVELESS:

Yeah.

BECK:

I know you believe this stuff, but that…

LOVELESS:

It seemed plausible until she mentioned Kristy. That was just. Ah…

BECK:

Dark as hell?

LOVELESS:

Yeah. Thanks for keeping quiet, though. I’m sure you had plenty you wanted to say.

BECK:

I guess, but I was being a dick earlier. I know how much your show means to you.

LOVELESS:

Appreciate it.

BECK:

You going to be good to keep going tonight? I’m sure your listeners wouldn’t mind one night off.

LOVELESS:

I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s weird. She was pretty much our age, you know? Makes you think.

BECK:

Ugh. Don’t dwell on that shit if you can help it. We’ve had lots of close calls and we’re still kicking, right?

LOVELESS:

You’re right. Thanks, Beck.

BECK:

Welcome, P. Maybe the next caller’s going to think the poor stranger was a bunch of frogs in a trench coat or something. That’d be fun.

LOVELESS:

*LAUGHTER* Yeah, maybe.

END TRANSCRIPT

#interactive fiction #drabbles #perri #beck #( trying to format this gave me a headache )#( but i'm excited to share this! )#long post

56 notes · View notes

sammyluvr · 2 months ago

Text

two mugs, half empty — luke alvez

cw : bau!gn!reader, can be read as platonic or romantic, hurt/comfort, feelings of guilt and shame, nightmare mentions, talk of canon typical violence, crying, 2.8K words. requested !

summary : luke comes to check on you after you call in sick from work, suspicious that there's something more going on.

“you look like hell.”

“but seriously, did you sleep at all over the weekend?” you want to hate how much he cares about you, but the sincerity of his voice has you nearly ready to cave.

“if it’s so bad that you went to the lengths to call off sick from work to avoid talking about it, it seems to me like it’s something you should talk about.”

“i–,” you try to explain, but you can’t get anywhere before choking on your own sobs.

“i’m gonna make you some tea, alright?”

his silence as he fills and turns on the kettle, then sits back down beside you to wait for it to boil is a comfort too. it makes a difference that he’s not making you explain anything.

first comes a big, deep breath and another long moment of quiet. and then you realize you can’t just get into you, so you do your best and start by skirting around the actual problem.

he’s about to say something, assure you that it absolutely was not your fault, but then everything comes tumbling out.

“thank you.” your voice is back at a whisper, but you hope he can hear how much you mean it. you think he does when he smiles.

“of course. you’ll always have me, and you have everyone else on the team too, you know that.”

“thanks,” he chuckles lightly. the sound makes you glad.

“hey luke?”

“yeah?” he replied in earnest, eager to give.

“can we order some thai food and watch movies until we fall asleep on the couch?”

at the end of the day though, he’s just glad you’ll be okay.

30 notes · View notes

helloalycia · 1 year ago

Text

first friend [two] // yelena belova

summary: when you convince Yelena to go out with the flirty barista serving you, you begin to realise that you may actually like her yourself.

warning/s: mentions of a breakup, shitty girlfriends and the mildest of angst.

author's note: here’s the second and final part! who doesn’t love a bit of yelena? i’ve got a multi-part alicia clark imagine coming up next 🥰

part one / masterlist / wattpad

Whenever bad things happen, everybody thinks it's the worst it can be and that they'll never get out from it. And that was exactly how I felt with the whole Thomas situation. Turns out all I needed to do was share my feelings with somebody.

After Yelena discovered the truth about our break up, it became a lot easier for me to move on from it. I didn't feel like I was holding it all alone, and if I ever did feel lonelier than usual, she was always there for me to call.

I was surprised she didn't do something horribly irreversible or probably illegal to him in some form of payback, considering she was still very much pissed about the whole thing. I'd made it clear I didn't want her to, and I was very appreciative of her listening to me.

A month passed and I didn't even care for Thomas anymore. It was easy to let it all go, to an extent. I tried to focus on myself again and appreciate what I did have in my life. And one of those things was Yelena, of course.

We were out on a coffee date during our lunch break one day. It was nice to get out of the Compound, especially during the few breaks I got, and Yelena happened to be mission-free so was able to join me.

"Sorry, one second, my phone keeps vibrating," she said when we were mid-conversation.

I waited patiently, watching as she quickly flicked through her messages.

"Who is it?" I asked, before sipping my iced coffee.

She sighed, tapping away quickly before locking her phone. "Just Nat. She can't find her hoodie."

"Oh, d'you know where it is?"

"Uh-huh."

I quirked a brow. "And you told her?"

"I told her I don't know," she said casually, before slurping her fruit drink.

I tried not to laugh as I glanced at what Yelena had on. "Is it the hoodie you're wearing by any chance?"

She didn't respond, but a smile curled on her lips as she met my eyes playfully. I chuckled, shaking my head at her silliness.

"I don't know how you're so confident lying to her. When she finds out, she'll be so angry," I said.

"She doesn't scare me," she answered with a shrug.

I raised my eyebrows in disagreement. "Seriously? She's intimidating as fuck! The Black Widow!" When Yelena didn't seem to agree, I scoffed quietly. "Honestly, I probably never would have talked to her if it wasn't for you. She's scary."

Yelena snorted with amusement. "Please. Natasha is the least intimidating person ever. Even you're more intimidating than her."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Of course you're saying that. You're her sister after all."

Enthused, Yelena leaned back in her seat and eyed me curiously. "I'm now wondering what you thought of me when we first met."

"Well, I thought you would be intimidating," I began, suppressing the urge to smile, "but then you came in because of a bad mission report and started pouting like a baby when I corrected you. So, from there, I knew you were harmless."

She opened her mouth with disbelief, lifting an eyebrow. "Wow. Seriously?"

"You're a softie deep down, I know it," I said convincingly, and she tried not to smile but it was impossible.

"Whatever," she mumbled, avoiding my eyes.

I grinned at her pout and the fact that she was only proving my point. "It's true! You would do anything I ask. Soft–ie."

She scoffed under her breath, crossing her arms, only making me laugh. I knew it and she knew it, but it was okay. That was why I loved her.

"Sorry to interrupt, but are you finished with your food?" a waitress asked, stopping by our table.

"No worries, that's fine, thanks," I said to her politely.

She smiled, nodding, before stacking them and saying, "Can I get you any dessert?"

I shook my head, but Yelena bit her lip as she glanced at the dessert menu sticking out between the salt and pepper shakers.

"Hmm, maybe," she mumbled, before pulling it out to have a proper look.

I crossed my arms and leaned back in my seat, amused. Of course she'd want dessert.

"You know, the chocolate cake here is very good," the waitress recommended, leaning down slightly to point it out on the menu to her. "Or if you're not a cake person, there's pie."

"That looks pretty good actually," Yelena agreed, nodding slightly.

"Something sweet for someone sweet," the waitress flirted, glancing at Yelena with a smile.

Either oblivious or not knowing how to react, Yelena clapped her hands together and nodded. "Well, I can't say no to that. Can I get a slice of your apple pie with some ice cream, please?"

"You got it," the waitress agreed, eyes lingering on Yelena a lot longer than normal, before collecting our plates and leaving.

I raised my eyebrows, trying not to laugh, as I looked over to Yelena with disbelief. Feeling my stare, she looked up and raised her chin.

"What?" she questioned.

I glanced over at the waitress who was behind the till getting her pie, and then back at Yelena. "What? Seriously? Did you not see what I just saw?"

Confused, Yelena tilted her head. "What? The picture of the pie? It's on the menu, Y/N, of course I saw it."

I tsked, shaking my head, before giving her a knowing look. "That waitress, idiot! She was totally into you!"

Taken aback, Yelena shook her head. "Pfft, no she wasn't. You're seeing things."

I rolled my eyes. "Yelena. She was literally checking you out."

"She was taking my order, that's all," she disagreed, getting comfortable in her seat. "It was good customer service is all."

I snorted. "Okay, whatever you say."

The waitress soon returned and gave Yelena her dessert, and not without checking her out yet again. Yelena glanced at me disapprovingly when I gave her another look, but said nothing else. We chatted for a little longer, her enjoying her dessert and me finishing my drink, before my lunch break was over and I knew I had to get back.

The same waitress – whose name tag read Andrea – gave us the bill and let us split it. But just as I predicted, she wrote a little something extra on Yelena's card receipt and slid it over to her before leaving.

"It's her number," I said with amazement, laughing when I put my jacket on. "I was freakin' right! God, I'm good."

"Maybe you were," Yelena said with mild surprise, looking at the receipt, before putting it in her pocket. "Probably won't do anything with it."

I quirked a brow. "Seriously? You should talk to her. She seems nice. And she was definitely interested in you."

Yelena considered it, glancing at the till where Andrea was serving another customer.

"It's really easy," I assured her, realising she'd never dated before because of her past, and so this would all be new to her. "No pressure or anything. Just approach her and say hi. And then the rest will play out itself."

"I don't know," she said, looking back to me with disinterest.

"Yelena, go over there," I said with encouragement. "You'll be fine. Promise."

She hesitated, watching me as if searching for confirmation. When I nodded, she took a deep breath and went over to the till. I smiled as I subtly watched their conversation, too far to hear anything but it looked like it was going well. Yelena was smiling shyly which was rare with her, and Andrea seemed to be enjoying the attention, checking her out and flirtatiously touching her hand on the counter.

Without thinking much of it, my smile faded when I saw just how flirtatious she was acting. It was a little icky to witness and left an unpleasant feeling in my stomach. I think I felt... jealous? Which was stupid, because I'd literally talked Yelena into going over there and I had no reason to be. But seeing it all play out was a different story, and a small part of me wanted to yank Yelena away and forget this ever happened.

It was a momentary feeling, strange, and I tried to ignore it. She was my friend and this was the first time she was putting herself out there – I was merely being overprotective.

Though, when Yelena finished her conversation and left with slightly pink cheeks, I realised it might have been more than a little jealousy I was feeling.

Trying to push that to the side, I plastered on a smile as we walked out the store. "So? How did it go?"

Yelena shrugged, smiling a little. "Alright. You were right. She was nice. I said I'd call her."

"That's great," I said, sounding excited for her, but I wasn't too sure I actually was.

"Enough of that anyway," Yelena said, giving me a sideways glance. "We don't want you back to work late. Let's go."

"We've got time, don't worry about– woah!"

I was cut off when Yelena put her hand out across me, stopping me from walking further forward. A cyclist suddenly sped past us, inches away from knocking me down if she hadn't stopped me, and I widened my eyes with surprise at the suddenness of it all and also the feeling of Yelena's hand protectively over me because she still hadn't let go, even when she yelled out a string of Russian curse words to the cyclist. It was kind of attractive, admittedly, seeing her so protective, and that's when I realised...

Oh, no.

"Are you okay?" she asked, finally dropping her hand and looking to me with concern.

I swallowed uncomfortably, avoiding her eyes. "Yep. All good here. Thank you."

She breathed out with relief, squeezing my arm gently. "People can be such idiots."

She began to rant about how inconsiderate some cyclists could be when riding on the pavement, but I was barely listening. The realisation that I may be attracted to my best friend was enough to silence me for the rest of the walk back to work.

It didn't long for me to realise that, yes, I do in fact like my best friend.

Though I tried to pin it down to a momentary lapse of judgement, or a mere appreciation for the beauty that was Yelena, I knew it wasn't that. More so when she actually began to see Andrea outside of the coffee shop and went on a few dates with her. The jealousy that went through me was too fierce to be purely platonic. And I hated that I only noticed too late.

Despite this, I tried to be as supportive as possible, especially because it was Yelena's first true taste of a relationship. There was a chance I was finding things to pick on without meaning to though...

"She's just really nice," Yelena was telling me one day after another date she'd been on. Her smile was permanent and she was gushing, making me feel icky because it was about someone else. "We went bowling and it was simple, but she makes me feel good. I didn't think it was possible, you know? I'm usually the one who doesn't feel like this, but something about her..."

She sighed contently, probably falling into a daydream about her, and I couldn't exactly do anything about it because I was the one who pushed her to go out with her.

"Does she know who you are?" I asked, trying not to seem too interested, when deep down I hated the irrational jealousy in me.

She shook her head, trying not to laugh. "I'm not stupid. Of course she doesn't. As far as she's aware, I work in admin at S.H.I.E.L.D."

I narrowed my eyes without meaning to. "So, my job."

She grinned, winking. "Exactly!"

I shoved her arm gently from across the table. "Just be careful. She's still new and you don't want to let anything slip up."

She gave me a disapproving look. "Y/N, I think you forget I'm a fully trained assassin. I don't let things 'slip up'."

I rolled my eyes. "Still."

And that was only the start. The more dates she went on, the more unreasonably jealous I was becoming. I tried my hardest to be supportive, but it was hard seeing her be so happy with someone else.

I wasn't sure how I'd never looked at Yelena in this light before, especially when she'd been nothing but kind and caring towards me. Probably because I was in a relationship, but now I wasn't and she was, so everything was the wrong timing. Whatever it was, I just knew that now I'd become aware of how great she was in a more-than-a-friend kind of way, it hurt seeing her with someone else.

But, like I said, I was nothing short of supportive. I helped her get ready for her dates, I gave her advice whenever she asked for it, and I even hung out with Andrea whenever they invited me. She was just as nice as she was at the coffee shop, except now I hated everything about her for the sole reason that she was dating Yelena and I wasn't.

It was a horrid feeling, jealousy. But I tried not to let it get the better of me. Yelena was in her first proper relationship and she needed support, not bitterness.

Unfortunately, as time passed, there were a few times when Yelena and Andrea would have plans and Andrea would cancel last minute, unaware of the way Yelena's feelings would drop in an instant. Or sometimes, we'd all be grabbing lunch together and she'd cut Yelena off mid-story, highjacking it with her own. I wasn't sure if it was on purpose or not, and Yelena never seemed to mind, so I didn't comment on it. But I always thought about it, hoping it wasn't my jealousy just picking things to hate on.

I knew I wasn't just seeing things when it happened again, though this time it was their two month anniversary (whatever the hell that meant). I was helping Yelena get ready at hers, doing her hair for her and listening to her ramble all about what she had planned and what restaurant she'd booked for the evening. She looked stunning, I wouldn't lie, but even more so because of the sparkle in her eyes and the glimmer in her smile when she talked about Andrea. As much as I disliked the girl, she made Yelena happier than I'd seen her. And as much as that broke my heart, it warmed it, too.

"So, the waiter said he'd prepare this special chocolate cake that's cut into a heart–" she was telling me as I put some pins in her hair to keep it out of her eyes, but was cut off by her phone ringing.

I passed it to her from behind me on the bed, happening to catch the caller ID as Andrea's. When she saw it, her face lit up and she answered it.

"Darling, hey!" she greeted, making me insides turn uncomfortably. There was a pause, then Yelena continued, "I'm almost ready and I'll come to pick you up. It's a surprise after all." She laughed, but then she fell silent, listening intently.

I finished her hair and smiled at my handiwork before taking a step back, only to realise the lovely smile on her face had disappeared.

"No, I understand," she said, voice lacking the same excitement it had all evening. A fake smile was on her lips as she looked down, playing with the hem of her dress. "It's okay, don't worry. We can reschedule. It happens all the time. Just a mix up, I know."

I frowned, wondering what was up, before watching her say her goodbyes and hanging up. It was quiet and she didn't say anything, so I decided to speak up.

"Is everything okay?" I asked gently, moving around so I could see her face.

She nodded, faking another smile as she met my eyes briefly. "Yes, but Andrea won't be able to go out this evening."

I raised my eyebrows with surprise. "What do you mean? You've got a whole plan. I thought you were picking her up."

She bit her lip, looking away. "She didn't realise she'd promised she'd go out to a party with her roommate tonight. Mixed up the days."

Without thinking twice, I said, "What the fuck? That's rude."

Yelena shook her head, visibly upset but defensive. "No, it was just an accident. Her roommate needed a wing woman and she promised she'd go. She said she'd make it up to me."

"Yelena, that's not an excuse," I told her with furrowed brows, not recognising this version of my friend. "It's your two month anniversary, right? You both knew the date. She should have cancelled with her friend and chose you."

"Y/N, just leave it," she said quietly, before standing up and taking out the pins in her hair.

"No, I won't leave it," I said, earning her attention. "This isn't the first time she's cancelled on you last minute. You put a lot of effort into tonight and she should be here!"

"It's not a big deal," she defended again, and it frustrated me to no ends because if the roles had been reversed, Yelena would have killed the person who did this to me. But ever since she'd dated Andrea, she'd become submissive.

"It's a dick move, Yelena!" I exclaimed, and she clenched her jaw. "She's a–"

"Don't," she warned, shooting me a look. "Don't talk about her like that."

"You always defend her," I said with disbelief. "Yelena, she does this regularly! And not just this."

"Oh, just say how you really feel," she said sarcastically, turning to walk to her wardrobe so she didn't have to look at me.

"Ever since you began dating her, it's like you've changed," I finally told her what had been on my mind. "She makes the decisions. She tells you what to do. She cancels, she takes advantage of your patience and you let her! That's not what a relationship is!"

"Stop talking badly about her!" she shouted suddenly, spinning around to glare at me. "I don't know where all of this is coming from, but stop it! It's not your place, Y/N!"

"Yes, it is!" I shouted. "She's a shitty girlfriend, Yelena! Who the hell leaves someone alone on their anniversary?! And for what – a dumb party?! That's fucked!"

"Stop it! You–" She began to curse in Russian, looking up with frustration, before settling her fiery stare at me. "You're the one who told me to date her!"

I scoffed. "Well, that was before I knew how badly she'd treat you."

"No!" she yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at me. "Stop it! You don't– fuck! You don't get to say all of this now! Not when–!"

Stopping herself, she squeezed her hand into a fist and looked the other way. I hated that she couldn't just see how badly she was being treated, how she couldn't believe me when I told her.

"Whatever, enjoy your cancelled date," I told her with a frown, before grabbing my phone and leaving her place.

So much for being supportive, I guess.

THIRD PERSON POV

"She's just being such a– such a–"

"A concerned friend?" Natasha filled in for her sister, making the blonde groan with frustration.

"Why are you sticking up for her right now?!" Yelena exclaimed. "You're supposed to be on my side!"

"Sorry," Natasha apologised, hardly meaning it.

Since Yelena burst into her room at the Compound the following day of her cancelled date, ranting about how rude Y/N was being and how she didn't approve of Yelena's relationship, Natasha was forced to hear it all.

"She doesn't get to comment on this!" Yelena continued to rant, more upset than angry, Natasha noticed. "I waited for her, for crying out loud! I– fuck, I was in love with her and she didn't see that, so no! She doesn't get to tell me what my relationship is."

"I mean, regardless of all of that, she wasn't wrong," Natasha commented, wondering if she'd regret it given Yelena's current emotional state right now. "The way Andrea treats you... it's not how a relationship is supposed to be."

Yelena narrowed her eyes at her sister. "Are you just team Y/N all the way now? Didn't know you loved her so fucking much."

Natasha ignored her bitterness and continued, "I'm not taking sides, Yelena. But I've seen how Andrea treats you, heard from yourself how she treats you. It's a dick thing to do."

Yelena clenched her jaw. "You've never said this before."

Natasha sighed, looking over her cup of coffee and to her sister. "I didn't want to get involved in your first relationship. It's something you had to figure out yourself. But Y/N... she cares about you and said it first. She's right. You deserve better, Yelena. And you're only not listening to Y/N because you're holding a grudge at the fact that she didn't love you back. That she didn't know you loved– love– whatever it is, her. But that's not fair to hold against her when she doesn't know. You didn't tell her and that's on you. Not her."

Yelena began to unclench her jaw and looked away, her anger fading and being replaced with hurt. There was truth to Natasha's words, she knew that, but she couldn't accept it just like that. It wasn't fair. She waited for Y/N. She wanted her. And when she finally had her chance, Y/N convinced her to ask Andrea out instead. All Yelena ever wanted was Y/N. It should have been her.

It wasn't fair.

YOUR POV

Yelena and I had never argued before, not like this. Small, stupid, petty arguments, sure, but never this. I hadn't seen her as angry as I had that evening. We hadn't gone this long – a whole week – without speaking, ever.

I missed her.

After being left alone to replay that evening over in my head, I knew I shouldn't have snapped like I did. Letting my concern and jealousy both get the better of me like that... it wasn't fair on Yelena. She didn't know how I felt, she couldn't have, and I was the one who talked her into dating Andrea. I couldn't take it out on her like I was, so I knew I needed to apologise. And tell her the truth, even if it meant saying goodbye to our friendship forever.

I went to visit her at her apartment, hoping she'd be in and also actually let me see her. Sucking up a deep breath, I knocked on her front door and waited. Finally, the door opened and Yelena was standing there, certainly surprised to see me. She didn't look like she wanted to punch me in the face, which was a positive sign...

"Hey," I said, embarrassed at how quietly it came out. Clearing my throat, I repeated myself, "Hey. Hi."

She pressed her lips together, green eyes flickering between mine. "Hi. I didn't expect to see you here."

"I know, sorry for showing up unannounced." I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I understand if you want me to leave, but I came here because I want to talk to you. I need to apologise, Yelena."

She raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised. "I see. It's funny you say that. I was actually going to visit you. I wanted to apologise also. And talk."

I was surprised, not expecting to hear that, and as much as I was curious about what she felt she needed to apologise for, I knew I needed to go first, it already on the tip of my tongue.

"Can I come in?" I asked nervously.

She nodded, stepping to the side. I let myself in, stopping in the hall and not inviting myself in any further.

"Y/N, I–" she began after closing the door behind me, but I cut her off instantly.

"Please let me go first," I pleaded. "I have to tell you something important. It can't wait."

She nodded reluctantly, eyes locking on mine as she waited for me to speak. This was it. The truth. Possibly the last exchange I could have with her if it went so badly.

"Firstly, I'm sorry for how everything went down between us last week," I said with a frown. "I shouldn't have flipped on you like that without warning. What I said... it could have been said better, at a better time and in a better place. But Yelena... it's true. I don't want to see you being used like that and forgotten about. You're amazing and you deserve the world."

She looked down at her shoes uncomfortably, and I worried I was going too far. But I sucked it up and powered through.

"The reason I was so bitter about it was because I was concerned as your best friend, yes, but also because I was jealous. I'm in love with you, Yelena."

Shocked, she looked up at me, eyebrows raised. Realising what I said, I cursed inwardly and tried to backtrack. That wasn't how I planned to tell her.

"Sorry," I said quickly, "that's not fair. You're in a relationship and–"

"We broke up," she cut me off abruptly.

I blinked, confused. "What?"

"That's what I was going to tell you," she said softly. "I broke up with her. You were right. I deserve better."

It was my turn to be surprised, eyebrows raised and her words digesting. "Oh."

It went quiet between us, our words hanging in the air, and I didn't know what else to say when she watched me closely.

"I've been in love with you for a long time," she finally spoke, taking me by further surprise.

"What?"

She released a deep breath, sad smile on her lips. "You never knew and I couldn't tell you because you were my first real friend. And I didn't want to ruin that."

She'd been in love with me this whole time? How was I so blind to miss it?

"Since when?" I asked, like it would make a difference, genuinely shocked by this revelation.

She swallowed thickly. "Do you remember that time when we went out to that sushi place? And I accidentally dropped the soy sauce all over you?"

How could I forget? It was shortly after we became proper friends and was the funniest thing to happen at a sushi bar. I smelled like soy sauce the whole afternoon at work but I didn't even care because Yelena was so embarrassed it was adorable.

"Yeah," I answered quietly.

"Since then," she said awkwardly, looking away.

I opened my mouth to say something, but I didn't know what to say. I was too taken aback, overthinking every moment since that sushi date. She'd been in love with me for that long?

"Well, now what?" she asked nervously, a nervousness that was rare with her but reminded me she wasn't just the stoic assassin everyone thought she was.

I pressed my lips together, eyes studying her expression with intrigue. She was avoiding my stare, eyes glued to the ground, and I let mine fall from her bright eyes to the slope of her nose, the dip of her cupid's bow, the fullness of her lips. She loved me, too. But she wouldn't make the first move, that much was clear. Why wait any longer?

"Maybe I could take you out on a date," I offered, earning her attention. "A proper one. And I can show you how you're supposed to be treated. How you deserve to be."

I held my breath, portraying a confidence I definitely didn't feel inside. I was certain she was, too, the both of us awaiting an answer that felt like it wouldn't come.

And just at that moment, her phone began to ring.

Startled, she pulled it from her pocket and checked the screen before declining the call. Clutching it tightly, she looked up to me again, eyes flickering between mine.

"I–"

Her phone began to ring again, only making the nerves in my stomach tighten with each passing second.

"You should answer," I told her before she could decline it. "It could be important."

Reluctantly she nodded and let out an annoyed sigh, putting the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

I couldn't hear the conversation, but it sounded like her sister and there was a sense of urgency in her voice. Something must have been up. Yelena kept a passive expression, humming before promising to be there and saying her goodbyes.

"I'm sorry, I have to go," she said afterwards. "There's an emergency at the Compound."

I smiled, hoping she couldn't see my deflated expression, and shook my head. "No, it's okay. You go. I'll leave, too."

Turning around quickly with the only thought of mine to curl in my bed and sulk, I tried to leave, but Yelena grasped my hand and spun me back around. Before I could ask her what was up, she pulled me close and kissed me.

I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms around her waist like it was second nature, and kissed her back. It was gentle, lasting only a few seconds, but my cheeks flushed and my lips were tingling when she pulled away.

"I would love to go on a proper date with you," she muttered, a smile creeping on her lips. "It's all I've ever wanted."

I began to smile, too, speechless and breathless all at once. I could have stared at her for a long time, merely admiring her pretty eyes and heartwarming smile, but I remembered her sister's call and reluctantly pulled apart.

"You should go to the Compound, it sounded urgent," I told her.

As if suddenly remembering, she breathed out and nodded. "Right, yeah."

"Let me know if everything is okay and if we need to rearrange tomorrow," I told her, going to the door. "Be safe."

"I will," she promised, unable to stop smiling, just like me. "See you, Y/N."

"Bye," I said, bringing myself to leave because if I stayed a second longer, I knew I'd end up pulling her in for another kiss.

I left and the smile on my face was permanent, I was certain.

#marvel #marvel imagine #mcu #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #florence pugh #black widow #mcu imagine

196 notes · View notes

azrielgreen · 2 years ago

Text

Touched CH7 preview

‘Levitating,’ Nancy repeats, voice hollow, stare void. They’re all in Chrissy’s living room after Robin brought Nancy inside. ‘He just… we got out of the car in the middle of the road. He was losing it, crying and terrified and then he just… he went still.’

Eddie is listening with his loosely balled hand over his mouth, hanging back to give her space. Robin and Chrissy are either side of Nancy on the sofa. Robin’s holding her hand. Max and El are helping keep Mrs. Cunningham busy by eating and making a fuss of the cake. Jason keeps trying to come inside, but Chrissy’s warnings to shoo get sterner each time.

Steve’s kneeling in front of Nancy.

He’s got one hand on her knee, respectful and friendly, just wants her to feel safe. She’s so pale.

‘What then?’

‘He… he started levitating, like I said. Right up into the air. Then.’ She shakes her head, tears running down her cheeks. ‘Then his body began to break.’

‘Like what?’ Eddie asks, against his own will.

She swallows. It’s a difficult question, but Nancy is pragmatic, tougher than she looks. ‘His bones started snapping.’ She shudders and looks at Steve, meets his gaze properly for the first time. ‘His eyes… they burst.’

‘My god,’ Chrissy mutters faintly, her arm around Nancy.

‘Then he just… dropped to the ground. Dead. I drove to get help, almost ran the girls over,’ she says, nodding out towards the kitchen. ‘They told me where you guys were.’

Eddie says, ‘Code Red, then?’

She nods. ‘I think so.’

Chrissy sighs. ‘Jason, please stop coming in here.’

‘Is Code Red still a period thing?’

‘Yes, it’s still a period thing,’ she snaps gently. ‘So please, help out by keeping my Mom out there.’

Steve is only focused on Nancy, so he doesn’t see, but he can feel through the bond and Eddie’s heightened awareness of him that he does, in fact, leave to return to the kitchen.

‘Where’s Hopper?’ Steve asks aloud, but it’s the question in his heart because no matter how it irks him to admit it, having a grown-up to turn to in this situation will make it easier, especially when it comes to the cops.

‘With Wayne, I guess,’ Eddie answers, listening to the conversation in the kitchen. He thinks Chrissy’s Mom is telling the girls about her cheerleading experience back in the day. ‘Chrissy, I’m so sorry, babe, but we’re gonna have to go.’

Chrissy looks at her best friend, pulls a face like he’s a complete idiot. ‘Well duh, we’re all going.’

Nancy turns to Chrissy. ‘I’m sorry to bring this to your door on your birthday.’

‘Oh my god, don’t be silly,’ Chrissy tells her, firmly kind. She rubs Nancy’s back. ‘We’re gonna figure this out together.’ Then she throws Eddie a little smile. ‘Our first rodeo, huh?’

‘Looks like.’

‘Not counting the Wolf Pop, though,’ Robin adds seriously and it works so well, makes Nancy laugh despite herself and that laugh breaks into a sob. Robin’s ready for it, pulls Nancy into her arms when she cries and Steve gets up, looks at Eddie.

Here we go, he thinks.

Mrs. Cunningham can be distracted no longer. Even Jason was trying to keep her out, but she senses there’s drama somewhere in her living room and comes inside, cheeks flush.

‘What is happening in here?’ she asks. ‘Why is that girl crying? Christine—’

‘Somebody died, Mom.’ Chrissy stands too, looks around. She’s not got shoes on, they’re all by the door, all except for Nancy, Max and El, who brought the rainstorm inside. ‘We need to go help.’

‘Who died?’

‘Who died?’ Jason asks, coming in from behind Chrissy’s Mom. ‘Who died?’

‘Fred Benson,’ Nancy croaks, emerging from the Robin hug with red eyes and scratchy voice.

‘The paper dwee—?’ Jason catches himself in time, rubs the back of his neck. ‘The uh, kid from the paper?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well, that’s very sad,’ Chrissy’s Mom says. ‘But he wasn’t your friend, he’s not from your group.’

Chrissy’s expression ripples with faint disgust. Max and El slip by. El has a massive buttered roll with ham and salad.

‘Oh my god, Mom—’

‘Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, Christine.’

‘—somebody died, what the hell does it matter if they were my friend or not?’

Jason asks, ‘How did he die?’ and Chrissy ignores him, so Eddie says, ‘Car accident.’

‘Like the one he was in a while ago?’

‘Chrissy, you can’t leave,’ her Mom says again, moving forward. Eddie’s sense of threat perception ripples. ‘Honey, it’s your birthday! I’ve spent hours making all this food, your cake, all this—’

‘MOM!’ Chrissy explodes. ‘I don’t want your god damned food! And even if I did, all you’re gonna do is make me feel like shit about it for days, so please…’ She takes a deep, trembling breath. ‘Please stop now. We’re going. I’m going.’

Mrs. Cunningham looks thunderstruck.

The cake is untouched, candles all set up but unlit.

‘You can’t.’

‘I am.’

‘I won’t allow it.’

‘You don’t get to allow me, Mom. My friends need me. This is more important. I love you and I’ll be back soon.’ Chrissy reaches for Eddie, hand out and he takes it without question, grabs Steve too, it must look ridiculous, especially when Steve then grabs Robin, who grabs Nancy, who pulls the girls along too and then, cherry on the cake, Jason goes too.

It’s a train of mass exodus and nobody even got to try the dandelion salad, but that really doesn’t matter.

The only thing that matters is them being together. Hand in hand, ready for whatever’s coming.

Nancy’s not OK to drive and there’s too many for one car, so Steve takes Jason, Chrissy, Robin and Nancy in his car and Eddie drives Nancy’s car with the girls inside. Eddie is taking the girls back to the lake house, to get on the radio.

Code Red.

Steve and the others are going to see Fred.

In the back seat, Jason and Chrissy are quietly arguing. Jason demanding to know what’s happening and why they don’t just call the cops. Chrissy telling him he can’t come with them.

Nancy’s up front with Steve.

The pair share a look.

It’s solidarity. It’s dread. Sympathy and love and friendship and the understanding that they really need to get rid of Jason Carver.

‘Hey man,’ Steve says. ‘I’m dropping you off, OK?’

‘What? No way! I’m not letting my girlfriend go see a dead body without me to keep her safe!’

Steve thinks it’s lucky Eddie’s in the other car, knows how much his lover would detest Jason’s use of the word, ‘letting.’

‘We just want to support Nancy while she gives her statement,’ Chrissy tells him again, would-be soothing.

‘And I just wanna support you.’

Steve is almost to Jason’s street, remembers going to a party or two back in the day. Keg stands and babes and stupid, idiotic shit with Alex Carver cackling every time someone was mean.

He’s almost at the turn when he hears sirens.

Two cop cars go speeding by together, fast.

Headed for the highway.

‘Shit,’ he mutters.

Robin turns to watch them. ‘Fuck, is that for Fred?’

‘Gotta be.’ Steve makes the turn. ‘Jason, man, you need to go.’

‘I’m not leaving my girlfriend.’

‘Honey, we just want to support Nancy, OK? You don’t know her, it’s not right.’

‘Look, I know I’m not… the smartest or whatever, but I know something is going down. I know that. I can feel it.’ Jason looks at Steve in the rear-view, oddly clear eyed. ‘I want to help. I mean it.’

Steve curses under his breath, stopped outside the Carver house. It’s huge, biggest on the block. Steve knows what the bathroom looks like, remembers fucking several girls in one of the guest rooms.

‘You should go.’

‘I won’t start shit with Munson or whatever.’

‘Jason—’

‘But you hang out here another minute, and my brother’s coming out,’ Jason warns quickly. ‘And he’s absolutely gonna start shit.’

Steve looks at the windows, sees the curtains move a little. Thinks of the last time he saw Alex. Eddie’s warning that never really left his heart.

The people who pretend the hardest to be normal are always the ones with something to hide.

Jason looks back and forth between Steve and the house, licks his lips. ‘Please.’

Steve grits his teeth, throws the car into gear.

‘God fucking damn it, Carver, you’d better keep your mouth shut, you got it?’

The rain hits the windshield, wipers doing what they can, but it’s heavy and determined.

Jason nods, pale and grateful. ‘I got it, man. Thanks.’

#touched #oonionchiver #this is gonna be so fucking long holy shit

55 notes · View notes

iiamangelina · 2 years ago

Text

Only His: Joo yeo-jeong

Yandere Yeo-Jeong x Therapist reader

warnings: Smut, Unhealthy themes, Toxic Yeo-Jeong , Yandere Yeo-Jeong. Prompt: Why was he back in my life? I needed him to be far away from me as possible. But I miss him and he knows too.

Note: My spelling/ English is not the best please constructive criticisms

It was late now, It was about 8:20 as I had just finished with my last patient, Clara who had a really rough today. It's been a while since a patient cried so hard in front of me. The death of her brother has really taken a toll on her, Maybe I should prescribe some pills for her to take? I'll have to recheck her file just to make sure she has no technical problems. Closing my desktop I picked up my handbag and was ready to leave when my door opened. Was I not the only one still left in the building? It had no cars in the parking lot or did someone come back for something?. As the door closed and the person turned around my heart dropped. " why are you here?" I questioned, "Awww really is that the first question your gonna ask me?" Yeo-Jeong said, "why are you here what do you want from me yeo-jeong." I repeated "what happened to the nickname my love? Do you hate me this much?" He said as he stepped closer to me. I took a step back "I thought you had another month in the mental hospital? wh-what happened" I asked once more "What can I say I got out on good behavior," He said making a few more steps towards me. Stepping backward "Good behavior? Seriously?" "Fucking hell I need to speak to the department about that.". I felt my back hit something. Fuck he corned me to the couch. He placed his arms on either side of the coach blocking me from moving. His face was close to mines I could feel his hot breath on my neck. "I really missed your perfume while in there you know," he said into my ear "get away from me you fucking bitch" I said "Hmmm I can't tell if you really want to send me back to the mental hospital or you want me to fuck you silly on this couch" He whispered into my ear. Fuck my heart fluttered. My eyes locked with his and I could see the fire in his eyes the longing the desperation of seeing me all worn out, Hair discombobulated, wet strands of hair stuck onto my forehead. "You know you miss me (name) You know you really fucking miss the way I couldn't make you walk straight for days the way I would hold you at night the way I would kiss and love you." "yeo-jeong, Please I can't do this shit again" I stated as I looked away, He moved his hand from the couch towards my chin moving it to look at him once more "it's ok my love you don't have to do anything at all ok let me show u" He got down on his knees keeping his eyes locked into mines, his large hands slid down the sides of my curves then to my waist below my thighs stopping at the hem of my skirt. I felt my panties start to soak and he slowly slid the skirt up to my waist, securing it in place. He tugs on my underwear indicating to open my legs so he is able to pull it down. I did what he ask, and felt small kisses trailing up my thigh before stopping at the corner of my underwear. My breath hitched as I felt his finger press against my core "fuck" I mumbled "somebody's raining between their legs right now huh" his voice deep a dark like a lion's roar ready to eat its prey "mhmm" I moaned out he removed his hand and pulled down my underwear. "fuck" he breathed out he propped my left leg unto his shoulder. his face deep-dived into my folds using his tongue to explore every cranny and corner possible "YES!" I let out. His tongue moved so majestically. I gripped his hair hard bucking my legs to feel more of it. I felt him smirk against me as I felt him going faster. "yeo-jeong yes right there please oh my God" I screamed out. He sticked one of his fingers into me as he kept swirling his tongue. His pace of his fingers was soft and slow before it became turbulence, it started to get hard and rough "Oh shit fuck" I felt the area around my stomach start to twist and turn. I felt myself becoming close. There was a knot forming in my stomach. He stopped moving and hastily stood up and lift up my blouse over my head. He unhooked the back of my bra as I unbuckled his belt. Unbuttoning his pants before it hitting the ground he immediately. He pulled out his dick, lining himself it to my entrance."OH FUCK" I said as he pushed himself into me.

#the glory #joo yeo jeong #fem reader #oneshot

72 notes · View notes

drifting-pieces-blog-blog · 8 months ago

Text

Breaking down the Comics: Like a Drugged Up Business Man (Issues 4-7)

Marc Spector - Moon Knight: Issue #4: Wild Midnight

Written by: Charles Dixon

Art by: Russ Heath

ALRIGHT. Let's get back to our new writer, Chuck.

So Chuck wrote issues 1-24 and issue 34. Apparently he wasn't too keen on it. It was a job. A job at Marvel. And it was an in to get into the comic writing big leagues.

Now, issues 1-24 is nothing to sneeze at. It's a good number of comics. However, there is some criticism that he left the series on a half hearted cliff hanger. He introduced plot lines then left before he finished them.

Never a nice thing to do to a series or to the next writer (Ask Star Trek TNG how they felt about that with the borg writer that tried to leave. Seriously, ask. I love Star Trek.)

Why am I bringing this up on issue # 4? We'll get to that. Just keep that in the back of your mind as we go along.

You guys see probably looking at that guy on the cover and going "HEY! That guy looks familiar! And Midnight? This is obviously a play on the name. Is this Midnight man?"

And I'm here to tell you that: You are paying attention. Good for you.

We open on Atlanta Georgia!

We see a glass building with a man climbing up the side with classic 1990s suction cups on his hands and knees. I can't tell you how many movies I saw with these.

Also?

“Heh heh heh” (this always gets me laughing.)

"VERY scary, Mr. Spector!"

"Marlene! I thought I locked that door."

"You didn't."

"I thought that rough guy talk came naturally. I didn't know you practiced."

"I WASN'T! I was just trying on my new kevlar costume and kind of got in the mood.

The last one got pretty shot up when I was getting you out of Burunda. I thought I'd look into something more bullet resistant."

Yeah... Marc would need something more bullet resistant since the man doesn't know how to DUCK.

Marlene doesn't like him joking about Bushman. She is still upset that Marc didn't kill him.

"He's never going to stop hounding you. You should have kiled you."

Marc laughs at her blood thirsty attitude.

Marlene is still not impressed.

"You were a MERCENARY, Marc. You traded in death every day. But after your original run-in with Bushman you put on that goofy costume and all of a sudden you became a Choir Boy."

(No, that's Dare Devil.)

My argument that Marlene is a toxic partner continues. She always wants him to be something different. In the original run she just wants Steven and for him to settle down with her. Here, she has 'accepted' him as Marc, but she wants him to be what her idea of him is: A brutal killer.

She is not having any of Marc's silly ways. And this just kills me because Marc, under all that angst and trauma, is a silly guy.

Marlene is not having his silliness.

"I hope you get a chance to grow up before somebody kills you!"

And she storms off.

A little later, Marc goes looking for Marlene and comes across Chloe. The new 'cook'. And there she is cooking in her bikini top again.

He asks if she's seen Marlene.

"Not lately, Marc. She took the porsche and went to her apartment in the city. She said that she would see you again when you grew up and stopped playing cowboy."

"Her exact words?"

"I would not repeat her exact words, Mr. Spector."

Frenchie interrupts the two to tell him that Marc's accountant is there to see him on urgent matters.

"On the last six Friday nights, six different businesses in six different cities were broken into and valuables stolen. A real pro. He only skimmed the best stuff. Cash... Paintings... Securities... Anything that wasn't nailed down."

Turns out Marc is a major stockholder in every one of those businesses.

Turns out, this makes Marc a suspect because his name keeps popping up in the investigation.

Poor Marc. "Paper rich but cash poor."

(Steven sure did know what he was doing with investing and things as a way to plan for the future. Too bad Marc has no idea what he's doing.)

Marc asks more about the burglaries.

Turns out at each robbery, a clock was smashed with the hands at midnight.

And I give you a close up of Marc’s reaction to that bit of news.

“Midnight?!”

This man...

Elsewhere, we find some thugs trying to offload some fur coats.

They are arguing about price and things are starting to escalate when BLAAM.

Moon Knight literally blows a hole in the ceiling and busts in.

He'd like to talk to one of the thugs.

"You guys don't mind if Winslow and I talk privately, do you?"

turns out Winslow used to fence Anton Mogart's stolen items.

You all remember Aton Mogart, right? The original Midnight Man.

Winslow is interrogated and declares taht Anton is dead.

Moon Knight declares that Anton is alive and that "I'll be back. If you've heard from him, I'll find out and I'll burn you down. Kapish?"

(Awww Marc, I love that Yiddish).

And then Moon Knight leaves back out the hole he made.

I mean... At least he's actually using the same exit now.

Back at the mansion, Frenchie noted that Marc was "wound up so tight over Mogart."

"It's personal. He's goading me. I made a mistake thinking he was dead and now he's rubbing my face in it. Not only is he stealing from me, but he's making it look like I have something to do with it."

Frenchie tells Marc that it's a shame no one can tell him anything. (Where's Jake when you need him?).

"Too bad you can't just invite him out for a beer?"

And I kid you not. Marc and his amazing bad decision making skills everyone:

"You're just shy of being indicted, you're under investigation by every federal agency but the department of agriculture and you want to throw a bash?

Half of the guests are going to be feds. You're wired for sound better than a David Bowie concert. A low profile would be best."

"You want me to act guilty, right, Hal? It's Friday night and a week since his last job. The wealthiest stiffs in three states are here. Our thief won't be able to resist."

"I heard that you were some kind of adventurer in your past. But this kind of stunt is stupid."

"You're a hardcase, Hal, but you're still an accountant You know your Jungle and I know mine."

Pretty smug there Marc.

And at the party, we find a platinum blonde making her way around. Oh look at that! Felicia Hardy!

For those not in the know, she's an on again off again love interest for Spider-Man and also a cat burglar, and also Black Cat!

Wonder what she's doing there? Hmmmmmm.

Meanwhile, Frenchie is also displeased at this whole affair.

"I hate this whole idea, Marc. There're too many people around. It's a bad situation."

"Stop worrying, Frenchie. This apartment is unapproachable from anyother building and the basement is locked up tight."

Marc explains that they've left no option but for the Midnight Man to be drawn out. The place is a 'fortress'.

"Just like the Alamo." (oh Frenchie how I love you).

And then Marc notices "the blonde". Marc no.

Marc. Marc no. No Marc. No.

Lucky for Marc, he's interrupted by a gushing lady about how generous he is with his donations to the local children's hospital.

He's ushered up on stage to start the pledge drive just before midnight.

Marc stars by donating One Hundred Thousand dollars.

He's informed that someone else has donated Half a Million Dollars.

Out done at his own shindig, Marc askes who donated the check.

"A mister Anton Mogart."

Side note: This art style is reminding me of early Spider-Man art with all the handsome but reactive close up faces of Peter Parker and it is sending me.

It's at this time that smoke bombs go off in the ballroom.

Considering that the party is full of FBI and various investigators... We see several of them spring into action, pulling out weapons like it's the 50s.

Ms. Hardy also springs into action, making a break for it.

And then we see a figure clad in all black running through the crowd snatching up all the fancy jewelry.

And then Moon Knight also runs by in the gas.

Which... now you have two figures in a cloak and hood running through a gassed up room. Good job Moon Knight.

The feds mistake him for the bad guy and open fire.

Marc Spector, Everyone:

Our Mystery Moon Knight makes a run for it, sucker punching Frenchie and slipping down a hall.

He's got a game planned and Moon Knight is invited to play.

"C'mon, Moonie! You can't win if you don't play!"

He tosses more gas bombs and makes to escape only to run face first into Moon Knight's fist.

"You should have stayed dead, Mogart. I don't know where you've been holed up all these years..."

Midnight man rolls away and runs for an open window then dives out, landing in "One of those slide tubes for high rise rescues."

I'm glad I'm not the only one that has no idea what those things are called.

Moon Knight watches as Midnight Man slides away in the tube.

"But I'm not stupid enough to follow him down this thing..."

"Then how stupid are you?" Black Cat!

She sucker kicks him. And I gotta say, that had to hurt.

Little History of Black Cat, AKA Felicia Hardy!

First appeared in The Amazing Spider-Man 1979! Daughter of a world renowned cat burglar.

Depending on how she's being written, she also has the ability to cause bad luck to anyone that comes up against her. Sometimes love interest, ally, and enemy to Spider-Man. Too bad she has no interest in his alter-ego Peter Parker.

Something else about her? She has superhuman strength. She packs a punch! Along with agility, balance, and expert knowledge in fighting styles and gymnastics.

I was honestly surprised to see her in this. There was no indication of a ‘special guest appearance’ on the cover. Usually there is when you bring in a pretty face like this.

Especially in a two parter because this is the end of the issue!

But we certainly see her on the cover of the next issue!! Interesting choices being made here.

Marc Spector - Moon Knight: Issue #5: Rockin’ at Midnight

Written by: Charles Dixon

Art by: Sal Velluto

Another change in artist. In a two parter. That’s pretty weird, honestly. What the heck was going on at Marvel at this time? (aside from the mass exodus to DC that took place followed by a new editor and chief, and Stan Lee leaving New York for LA to start up Marvel studios to start producing cartoons and shows, leaving a void in creative control that was filled by the editor in chief and big wigs. You know… all that.)

Alright, we open up on Moon Knight not having a very good time.

We start with Black Cat mistaking him for the other hooded figure that stole all the jewels.

Moon Knight tries to reason with her.

"It's Anton Mogart we're after. He calls himself Midnight."

"And what do you call yourself, Caspter the un-friendly ghost?"

"Uh... Moon Knight?"

Yeah she's never heard of him.

Poor Marc.

They fight a bit and Marc tosses her in the closet and locks the door to chill for a minute.

He turns to give chase to Midnight and comes face to guns with the FBI.

They think he’s the thief and they try to arrest him.

….Marc that’s not how you…

So he beats them up and runs off.

Black Cat bursts through the door and also runs off.

He instructs Frenchie to get them airborne quickly.

"I ran into some bad luck. It started when a black cat crossed my path."

Black Cat catches up in time to watch them take off in the chopper and she manages to somehow attach a line and get pulled along without them noticing.

They manage to spot Midnight Man getting into his car just before he takes off.

At this point, Black Cat jumps on top of the chopper to say hi.

"Who is she, boss?"

"Uh... Someone I met at the party. Keep your eyes on Midnight, Frenchie."

Yeah... Just...ignore the lady in the literal cat suit sitting on top of the plane. Good plan.

They zoom off after Midnight and of course he looks up and notices the moon shaped plane chasing him.

They zip across the bridge and Black Cat is impressed with their gumption.

"You are WAY crazy, Casper, climbing down a ladder from a chopper doing at least seventy. But, I haven't been to Queens in ages. Not since Parker and I called it finito. Y'know, Casper's costume's not much... But with a build like that... What did he say his name was? Moonbeam? Moonshine? Moonraker?

Get serious, Felicia. Why would a guy name himself after a James Bond movie. Especially a Roger Moore James Bond movie. ICK!"

LOL What's great about this is that as a fan of the 90s Spider-man cartoon growing up, they all had fast talking monologue thoughts and I can hear this in that style.

It's just wonderful to hear how the writing style was back then.

Alright a lot is about to happen and fast talk is only the first half of it! Welcome to the end of the 80s and early 90s!

Moon Knight drops from the chpper to land on the getaway car.

"Moon Knight! My main man! You come to see the USA in my Chevrolet?"

(Midnight man suddenly sounds like Lobo from DC comics who is the MOST late 80s early 90s character I've ever come across and the reason why I still to this day still will randomly call someone "My main man".)

"When did you develop a sense of humor, Mogart? A stupid sense of humor." Marc's just mad he's not the one cracking the jokes.

"Oh, Lots of things about me would surprise you, Moonie."

Black Cat is close on their tail as she leaps car to car through traffic.

She notes that Ol' Moonie was telling the truth after all and seems to be the good guy.

Moon Knight demands that Midnight pull over. Midnight politely declines.

And welcome to Marc continuing his string of bad luck.

I don’t even know where to start.

It's okay. The car lands in the water.

Black Cat is sad to see all the stolen diamonds sinking down with the car.

Frenchie flies in and drops a ladder.

Luckily, Marc surfaces.

He's unable to locate Midnight man.

"No sign of him. ....Huh. You always were a lousy swimmer, Mogart."

This is a hilarious call back to the first time Mogart fell off a cliff into the water and 'drowned'. Then again later when Mogart kidnapped him in the sweres and 'drowned' again. He uh... He's got a problem with water.

Moon Knight has another concern.

"Lost another cape. That's getting expensive."

And with that, Moon Knight flies off and Black Cat watches him go.

"Catch you another time, Moonbug. Maybe we'll get to party again. I'll bet he's cute under that creepy mask. What IS it about a man in a mask tha tmakes me melt?"

Black Cat certainly has bad luck when it comes to men.

Frenchie and Marc return home. Frenchie remarks about the fuel being on E because Marc was so insistent on searching up and down the river looking for Midnight, just in case.

"I wanted to make sure he's really dead this time. No more unpleasant surprises."

"Your entire life is a series of unpleasant surprises, Marc."

Frenchie, you hit the nail on the head real hard there, buddy.

Speaking of unpleasant...

They land and Marlene is there to greet him. A little desperate.

If you recall, the last we saw her, she had stormed off after picking a fight with Marc.

Now she's back and she throws herself into his arms.

"I wanted to apologize for the way I acted yesterday. I have no right to try and change you."

And then she finds a platinum blonde hair on his outfit. (Black Cat brings all the bad luck)

"A little disagreement and you run off with the first tramp you can find! You disgust me, Marc!"

And she storms out again.

Marc's pretty pissed off. He goes and has an argument with the Khonshu statue as usual. I'm glad to see that remains from the original days. Is it even Marc if he doesn’t have a moment or arguing with and blaming all his troubles on a statue?

"What are YOU looking at, Khonshu? If it weren't for YOU I wouldn't have all these complications in my life. I'd be happier and things would go a lot smoother with Marlene. Sure.

If it weren't for Khonshu, I'd be DEAD and so would Marlene. Both of our lives were saved the night that I took on the cloak of Khonshu and became Moon Knight. I just have to learn to live with an Ancient Egyptian GOD in my life--And the guilt over my less-than-moral mercenary days.

Could be worse. Some guys have to live with their in-laws. Where'd the water on the floor come from?"

Marc….

Window exit! Do I count this? Also, he’s constantly trashing his own mansion.

Marc.... Marc....

He refuses to listen and Midnight puts up a fight.

"If I have to kick your butt to get you to listen, I can do that!"

And then Marc's new 'cook' Chloe shows up, distracting Midnight.

Moon Knight manages to punch him out

Moon Knight unmasks him to find.... "It's just some kid."

He picks up the unconscious man and starts to carry him inside.

"What should we do with him?"

"This kind of situation wasn't covered in your maid job description, but could you get me a bottle of asprins and a couple of beers to wash 'em down, Chloe? We'll BOTH need them."

Marc, you are just filled with bad ideas.

Now with the new Midnight man tied up to a chair, he regains consciousness and Marc starts his interrogation.

"Now maybe you can tll us who you are, Kid."

"Sure thing. You can ditch the mask though. I already know all about you. Spector."

“What’s the use of a secret identity if everyone already knows it? How do all the other guys do it?” - Marc who is so bad at keeping his identity that he stopped trying later.

Yeah, totally called it. It seems any time an old villain shows up and isn’t the old villain, it’s always the son or something. I’m…Just surprised that Mogart had a kid, to be honest.

Jeffrey Wilde, the new Midnight man, goes into his story.

His mom didn't marry Mogart. He was a fling baby.

That makes sense, knowing Mogart.

Mogart sent money for support "when he thought of it".

He met Mogart for the first time when Mogart was dying in a hospice of cancer.

Turns out the chemicals that deformed him also gave him cancer.

As a kid, he had collected newspaper clippings of Mogart's special activities. While visiting his dying father, Mogart had disclosed his techniques and asked his son to stay on the right side of the law.

Marc is surprised to hear that Mogart really IS dead and that he isn't the one that ended up killing him.

He asks the kid why he's been bothering him and framing him and all that business.

"To show you what I picked up from my old man. To show you how good I am. That I can be your partner."

Oh boy, this is going to end well.

Marc is just as incredulous as I am.

"Say WHAT?!"

The kid wants someone to show him how to "learn the crimefighting game" and he figures Moon Knight is the best there is to do that.

(LOL I Love you Frenchie).

Marc reads him the riot act, telling him to run home to his "Mama".

"...Stay off my back and stay away from anything to do with me."

He has Frenchie send the kid home.

This is not the last we are going to see of Jeff Wilde.

A product of the late 80s and early 90s when everyone felt like all the heroes needed some sort of protege or to work with younger kids wanting to become heroes. And, spoiler here: It doesn't end well, as most things don't end well when it comes to Marc Spector.

Alright.... So now we go elsewhere and pick up a completely different story plot.

Just, out of the blue that's going to leave off on a cliff hanger and lead into the next issue.

I find this sort of story telling deeply unsatisfying. There's ending on a cliffhanger, then there's just dropping plots and deliberately setting up another issue.

Not to mention Marvel did that thing they always do that I hate where you have a whole "LOOK AT THIS CROSSOVER" with Black Cat who then just goes "Yeah, I'm not interested" and leaves.

It's just such an obvious ploy for readership and money.

That's my two cents. Anyways.... On to elsewhere.

We find ourselves in a subway station with a big guy and a bunch of rowdy teens.

The teens point out that the big guy in a suspicious trenchcoat and hat smells really bad.

The guy exits the subway (not at all suspicious) and makes his way down town.

More punks give the big guy a hard time until the big guy pulls out a huge machete.

The punks pull out their guns and open fire on the guy. The guy gets shot in the head and all over but keeps coming till he stabs one of the punks.

The big guy goes down while the other punks freak out.

Then we get a close up look at the guy's face.

It's actually pretty grusum and I'm not going to post it, but he's pretty decayed looking with yellow and red eyes and gnarly teeth.

The caption: ZOMBIE FRIDAY NIGHT.

And that's where the issue ends.

Now, if you were with me in the Moench run break downs, you’ll remember we already covered zombies with Brother Voodoo.

.....Taking a peak at the next cover we get "Brother Voodoo comes to town!"

Yeah... Apparently Brother Voodoo only covers zombies... Hmmm... Only this time he's not in the jungle, but in the big city.

I'm going to be honest here: I'm not going to cover every issue. There's no way. The late 80s and early 90s were ROUGH.

You are going to find a lot of themes of BUSINESS and DRUGS and PUNKS and JUNKIES and YOUNG TEEN VIOLENCE. These were all the major hitters for the late 80s or early 90s.

They did everything to make the comics seem exciting and relevant and were often written by new arrivals to big comics that were trying to attract readers.

So I'm going to skim this one real quick for you guys (because you're also going to get a lot of stereotypical black man jive stuff in this and it's painful to read through).

Marc Spector - Moon Knight: Issue #6: One Hand in the River

Written by: Charles Dixon

Art by: Sal Velluto

We start at "Spector Enterprises Inc" (What the heck business does he do? No one knows. Some complicated business stuff I'm sure) where Marc is pulled in all sorts of directions for his business needs.

You see, Marc isn't used to business. This isn't Marc Spector's bag. This is why he needs Steven Grant. This is why I don't understand why the writer decided to get rid of Steven and Jake. It makes no sense.

Marc has placed himself as the president of Spector Enterprises Inc. and he has no idea what he's doing.

Oh look. Midnight returned all the stolen property to the FBI offices in Brooklyn. The FBI has decided Marc isn't worth looking into....

But the IRS is suddenly VERY interested in Marc's business practices.

He's being Audited.

Marc heads to his office to sulk and finds Brother Voodoo waiting there for him.

Marc points out that Brother Voodoo looks a bit rough.

He sure does.

Jericho says he needs Moon Knight's help.

Marc ones more complains that someone knows who he is.

"I think I'm going to take out a full page ad in the times and tell EVERYBODY my 'Secret Identity' and get it over with."

Turns out a cult is in New York. The same cult they fought way back in the day that likes to play with Zombies.

At this point Brother Voodoo takes off his snazzy sunglasses and reveals that he too has been made into a zombie!

We cut to outside where Moon Knight's biggest fan is waiting in a car. "Well if it isn't Marc Spector, AKA Moon Knight. Thought you'd shake me, didn't you, m'man? Well Midnight's no brush off I wonder who his creepy amigo is."

We see Marc walking to a cab with Brother Voodoo.

Brother Voodoo is apparently fighting off being controlled by the cult by eating salty snacks. The salt does some chemical mumbo jumbo to give him control.

He can also sense when other zombies are near and look! our trench coat friend is walking by.

They follow the zombie into a building. Up on the top floor there is a fancy restaurant where some mafia sort of guys are having lunch.

They talk a bit of shop about paying people off and yadda yadda yadda...

We see two heads talking about turf and disputes. They start talking about new guys in town that come from some 'kinda cult thing'.

And boom! Trench coat zombie man busts in!

And Moon Knight busts in. (When and where did he have time to change?!?)

If I had to put money on this... I'd say this was the same fancy resturant that was previously featured in an earlier comic where the big violent guy went on what he thought was a date and then tried to blow the place up.

Moon Knight and Brother Voodoo fight the gangsters for some reason. The gangsters all dealt with, they turn to confront the zombie to find... He's got a bomb strapped to his chest! (this poor resturant).

The zombie is ready to detinate and Brother Voodoo tells Moon Knight that "No one can sway him from the spell he is under."

Just when all seems lost, Midnight swings in (literally) and tackles the zombie.

He kicks the zombie out the window (hitting him square in the dynamite) and the zombie explodes, blasting out the window and causing some damage to the side of the building.

"That stupid kid. That stupid, stupid kid!" Moon Knight is not pleased.

"You've been following me! I told you to back off, Kid! I don't need a partner! I don't want a partner!

Why are you still tagging along behind me, kid?"

"Could it be your winning personality?"

Moon Knight is stunned speechless. (I like to think it's because he isn't used to being addressed like this and the jab at his personality hits home since Steven and Jake are apparently being suppressed or just flat out denied).

Pissed off, Marc storms off with Brother Voodoo.

They all pile into Midnight's car where awkward introductions are had.

They head back to the mansion.

Meanwhile, in South Bronx, we find ourselves in a slum where a bunch of zombies are watching.... THE ANDY GRIFFITH SHOW. The zombies appear to appreciate it.

And now we got zombie cult guy making deals with south american cartel gangsters that wanted to wipe out the mafia guys. (I told you this was going to get complicated)

Back at the mansion, we find Jericho trashing a room while Marc and Jeff are waiting outside the room while Jericho 'gets his head in order' before they storm the zombie cult location.

Oh look! Chloe shows up to demand to know what's going on.

And Jeff CLEARLY has the hots for her. Hmmm.

The room inside is getting trashed, but it's better than the time he brought home Jack Russell the werewolf and locked him in his room... Marc...needs to make better decisions.

ANd Brother Voodoo has his head in order now and pops out to tell him that the zombies are located in the South Bronx and they have work to do!

End issue.

Oh boy... A multi parter... I can’t help but think back to Moench’s time when each issue had the ability to tell the story and stand alone. Sure, we got a few multi part stories, but they flowed together so well.

Thena gain, they didn’t really have standard volumes that told one story like comics do now. In today’s comics, you have Volumes that contain roughly 5-6 issues that all connect together. Sometimes you have a stand alone issue mixed in, but usually it still has a way to lead into the story. In the original comics, each issue stood alone and didn’t end until a massive change in writer and direction of the comic was needed. We moved from Moon Knight to Marc Spector Moon Knight and got a new set of volumes.

And while, sure, it’s interesting to see them telling longer stories… These aren’t ALL connected stories. These are special guest cross-over stories. Collect them all and put them in a volume and you still get the most random stuff. And each ending of the issues just feels like they are cutting the story in half.

I’m starting to see why Ol’ Chuck Dixon isn’t a well known Moon Knight writer and why his run in particular was criticized like it was. Interesting.

Marc Spector - Moon Knight: Issue #7: Zombie Saturday Night

Written by: Charles Dixon

Art by: Sal Velluto

Alright... Now... We uh...

We got the gang all here having breakfast in the kitchen and...

What the hell is going on in this picture...

That GIANT plant up there (I guess Marc’s love of giant potted plants goes back to 1989). The kitchen looks tiny compared to the GIANT mansion we know it’s in.

Why is Frenchie getting manlier and manlier every time he’s drawn in these issues? Why is he casually oiling all his guns at the table?

WHY IS MARC DRINKING OUT OF THE BLENDER?!

MARC. MARC NO.

Well... despite what's going on in that picture...

Brother Voodoo is getting a good breakfast with plenty of salt to help his synapses fire or something.

He remembers what happened to turn him into a zombie and he regales the group with his... Hey wait...

....Where's his brother? That's his whole schtick! Brother Voodoo can see the ghost of his brother, who possesses people and helps him!

Anyways... He tells the group how he was hunting down the zombie cult when he was captured and forced to drink the poison that turned him into a zombie. They also stole his Magical Medallion that was "the focus of my own voudon powers".

He was then locked up in a ship and taken to New York.

He tells them about the Slum where the zombies are being trained to kill (and watch Andy Griffith?)

Frenchie asks how Jericho got away.

"With the help of my brother, Frenchie."

See, Frenchie out here asking the important questions.

Alright, all that out of the way, they decide to head to the Bronx.

He tells Jericho to take teh van and the rest of them get the chopper (it really only comfortably seats 3, after all). Jeff is excited about the chopper.

But before they leave, Marc gets a phone call from his really pissed off Accountant.

It's about the IRS Audit. The accountant is understandably nervous and needs to go over things with Marc.

Marc blows him off and they leave. (see? There's so much business at stake in these comics.)

We enter into the typical Moon Knight landing on a roof and rolling into action scene. Only now we have the kid, Jeff, stumbling around because he's not used to Marc's hard hitting take the punch and glider style of fighting.

Inside, we have the Drug cartel arguing with the Zombie cult about what's going on. With Moon Knight making his way in, the Cartel boss gets antsy and makes a run for it.

We see more Zombies watching tv and...Oh. I get it. It's the early 90s hysteria about how watching TV makes you into zombies. I remember that. It's a commentary. Hm.

Brother Voodoo make his way through the building and faces off against the cartel guys.

Moon Knight makes his way down from the roof, fighting zombies and trying to keep track of Jeff, who reveals his costume is just spandex and not Kevlar like Marc's is.

Marc... Not everyone can afford Kevlar.

Marc's fighting zombies, trying to protect Jeff, and trying to deal with Jeff bumbling around.

At one point Marc gets mad and resorts to his old style of just punching things till they go down. ....Problem is, you can't just punch a Zombie down.

....So Marc punches him out the window.

I see Marc's moved from jumping through windows to just throwing things through windows.

They eventually meet up with Jericho and find themselves surrounded by zombies and the leader.

Jericho calls for his brother. A little possession here, a little spell chanting there, the zombie leader loses his power and all the zombies go down.

Jericho manages to get his Medallion back and it restores his power.

We cut to the Cartel leader calling someone saying he's done with zombies and they need to get their gig up and running again. But outside, another zombie (or the same zombie, it's not clear) in a trench coat has a gun and his picture, clearly there to eliminate him .

And that's the end of this issue and FINALLY the end of this cliffhanger run.

WHEW.

Look, some stories are harder to get through than others. Even Moench had a couple of issues that were difficult to read, but they were difficult because sometimes the story just didn’t click with me. I still appreciated the art and the little side bits and nods and fun Moon Knight moments.

The Marc Spector Moon Knight is difficult for a LOT of reasons, that unfortunately have a LOT to do with the age, the comic style, and the art isn’t as pretty either.

You got a lot going on and they sacrificed art style for getting as much in as they could to keep the action GOING. It’s rough. There’s a reason why a lot of things from the late 80s and early 90s feels like you’re talking to a coked out business man. And boy howdy do these feel like we’re talking to a coked out business man.

There’s just so much at stake ALL of the time. And Marc is so bad at managing things. I’d say it’s fascinating to watch Marc crash and burn without Steven and Jake, but the writer CLEARLY has no intention of including Steven and Jake and honestly, would probably prefer to remove all the mental health issues that Moench so lovingly included and dealt with in the creation of Moon Knight.

So am I going to do a breakdown of ALL the comics in Marc Spector Moon Knight? …I’m going to burn out if I try. So I’m going to find a way to get through them, because I want to read it. I know I skimped it the first time I laid my hands on it, and now I want to see where our Moon Man has been. (plus the next issue includes the Punisher!)

Most likely I’m going to do big long posts that are a summary of multiple comics at once with some pictures to highlight certain aspects, art, or just Marc being MARC. (he’s so bad at everything here).

Let me know what you think! The 90s were rough people!

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight comics #Analyzing the comics #Marc Spector #I'd take Steven and Jake but clearly they aren't in this #Hm #Marc is bad at everything and shouldn't be left to make decisions #Am I the only one that sees Jeff and thinks about Nadia and her rant about Jeff?#Jeff...#Why did everyone need a Spelunky sidekick in the 90s?

9 notes · View notes

ipegchangbin · 1 year ago

Note

HOLY SHIT Z WHAT THE HELL⁉️⁉️😟😟🤯🤯

NEVER HAVE I EVER READ A FIC THAT MADE MY PUSSY THROB THAT MUCH‼️‼️🤭🙁🥵🥵😳😳😱😱😱

I READ THAT THING LIKE FIVE 5️⃣🖐️🤯 TIMES AND TMI BUT I GOT OFF ON IT TOO BC DAMN WAS THAT GOOD😝😝😋😩😫‼️💕🙏💕

I WOOOOUULLDD DO LIKR A WHOLE ANALYSIS (hehe analysis 😼😼🤭😛) BUT UMMMM UR GIRL IS HIGHKEY ASS AT WORDS‼️‼️😥😰😱😭😫 LIKE POOKIE‼️😫 I LITERALLY FAILED ALL OF MY ENGLISH CLASSES BACK IN HIGHSCHOOL😀😀😀😀⁉️⁉️⁉️BUT AAAANNNYWAYS WHAY YHE HELL Z 😱😱🤯🤯

THE WRITING IS LITERALLY SO AMAZING🤩😍😝😋😋😋

WHY⁉️⁉️😡😡

WHO GAVE U THE MF RIGHT TO WRITE THIS GOOD😡⁉️⁉️⁉️😡🤬🤬😡🤬🤬😾

BUT FR POOKIE WHAT DO U PUT IN YOUR FICS BC🥴🥴🤤🤤🤤😵‍💫😵‍💫😵😵‍💫😵‼️‼️‼️

THERES BARELY ANY BOYPUSSY FICS OUT THERE WHICH IS DEVASTATING 🤬🤬🤬😓😢😩😫😡🤬

UR MY SAVIOR Z‼️‼️🥹🥹🙌💕

ALSO YOUR ART OF BOYPUSSY HANNIE IS SO FUCKINF DELICIOUS LIKE I OPENED THAT LINK AND ZOOMED RIGHT ON THAT PUSSY AND I FUCKING DROOLED‼️‼️🥴🤧🤤🤤🤤💦💦 GUESS WHO TOUCHED HERSELF WHEN SHE SAW IT❓❓❓THATS RIGJT‼️‼️ ME😻☝️💕💕💦 I NEED MY MF MOUUUTYHH ON THAT JUICY MF PUSSSAAYYYYYY‼️‼️‼️🙏🙏😫😝👅💦

READER IS MUCH BETTER THAN ME🙌🙌🤧🤧 CAUSE IF IT WERE ME I WOULD’VE PUT THAT VIBRATOR IN HIM AND ATE THAT MF PUSSY OOOUUTTT AND SUCKED THE LIFE OUTTA THAT CLIT😝😝😛😋😋🙏🙏🙏 RIGHT AFTER HE SQUIRTED LIKE IM FR GONNA MAKE HIM SQUIRT AGAIN BUT THIS TIME IN MY MOUTH 😋😛😛😜💦💦🤪😍😍😍LIKE THIS TONGUE IS GONNA FUCKING ABUSE THAT ALREADY ABUSED CLIT EVEN MORE 👅👅💦💦‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️DID I MENTION I LOVE CLITS❓❓❓ IF NOT THEN I WILL NOW‼️‼️‼️ I LOVE CLITS‼️🙌😋 CLITS ARE SO FUCKING AMAZING‼️‼️😍😍😜😫🙌 EVERY TIME I SEE SOMETHING ABT STIMULATING A CLIT IM IMMEDIATELY BRICKED 🧱🧱🧱 UP⬆️☝️🆙👆CAUSE IF IT WERE ME I WOULDVE TIED SUNGIE UP WITH A VIBRATOR TO HIS CLIT AND LEAVE HIM THERE FOR HOOOUURRRSSS‼️♾️😝😛😫☝️😋💦 I WOULD SPEND THE WHHOLE MF DAY ON THAT DELICIOUS CLIT ‼️‼️😍😛😋🙌👅💦😽👉👌OH MY GOD I SOUND GAY ASF BUT IDC BC ITS PUSSY‼️‼️😻🫰WHO DOESNT LOVE PUSSY⁉️⁉️⁉️😾😾I LOVE PUSSY‼️‼️‼️😛😛👅😻😽🙌 I WOULD EAT HANNIES PUSSY OUT ALL DAY ALL WEEK ALL MONTH ALL YEAR ALL CENTURY‼️‼️‼️‼️😝😜😜😽 THAT PUSSY IS SO MF JUICY💦💦 WND DELICIOUS AND IS BEGGING TO GET TOUCHED‼️‼️🙌👉👌😋

anyways pookie keep up the good work, amazing writing as always!! <3 🥰🥰💕 (definitely not rereading it for the fifth time and getting off on it…nooooo definitely not… ☺️☺️)

OH YM GOD i just logged in and this is the first thing i see 😭 I FUCKING SEE U ANON‼️ u are very seen

ANON I LOVE U SO MUCH MORE WTF THE AMOUNT OF PRAISE THAT U POURED OVER THIS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 HAS BOYPUSSY BROKEN US BECAUSE IT SEEMS AS THOUGH IT HAS 😭😭😭 GOOD LORD and to think that this was supposedly just a private gift but mei is kind and i was able to post it … NOW IM SO GLAD I SHARED IT BC U HAVE FOOD TO EAT MY DEAREST ANON 😁

“ure my savior” yo…yo dont perceive me as messiah itll inflate the shit out of my ego /j and give me impostor syndrome /hj BUT IN ALL SERIOUSNESS gosh i cldnt stop giggling u made my day with these compliments like im just Some Guy but because of ur words i am now Some *Happy* Guy

and omg! URE RIGHT MAYBE SHOVING THE VIBE IN AND EATING HANNIES PRETTY BOY CLIT OUT WOULDVE BEEN SO GOOD…but then again…TEASING THE BOY JUST FEELS SATISFYING ‼️‼️ i love hannie and his clit actually i love pussy in general i wish i had boypussy especially boyclit in my mouth rn (in a non sexual casual way) (which was what reader intended) (until y/n and han both went CRAZY)

i wont lie this ask gave me massive eye strain from the emojis /pos like that brings me joy ?! its an impressive thought to know that somebody out there is losing their mind over silly words i wrote and a few lines that i drew. CRAZYYYY thats crazy?!!!

ill keep this entire ask, print it into a booklet form, and reread it as if its a mini prayer guide. i cant anon ure so silly and precious HAHAHAH hope u have the nicest day always!

#failing english and yet conveying ur Very Normal Boypussy Feelings via tumblr ask is a Communication skill btw U SHOULDVE GOTTEN PERFECT!#<3 pookie anon #lovely isnt enough as an adjective tbh u need the crown #💌 ipeginbox

12 notes · View notes

eggs-can-draw · 2 years ago

Note

Why did you two angst it?! This was a cute idea, not Shuichi being quiet as Kokichi bullies him! I said one-sided rivalry! You know what it means? That the other doesn't even realize it's a rivalry! I mentioned adults smiling at Kokichi and calling Shuichi his friend, making him more mad, because I was picturing them seeing Kokichi's behaviour as classic pigtail pulling since again Kokichi probably just doesn't know how to act around somebody he likes because he doesn't get to see an example at home. I had this scenario of them both telling their respective parents about their playtime at dinner time and having very different narratives, Shuichi says they played tag, made funny faces at each other and had a tickle fight, I lost but it still was fun, it's nice to have a friend I can do those things with, and Kokichi's version is I chased him down, he turned out to be immune to my scary faces, as expected of a worthy nemesis, so I had to use my special attack and tickle him until he couldn't breathe, so that's a battle won, for my next plan I need to enlist your help. And then he gets Komaeda to help him make a glitter bomb, which Shuichi ends up perceiving as Kokichi greeting him with confetti the next time they meet and it goes on. For about two years before they start school, but when they become SESLs uh oh, everybody wants to be Shuichi's friend, but that's his nemesis and he should be focusing on chasing Kokichi, and at school there are none of Kokichi's trusted adults that he would listen to or talk about what troubles him at all, and Shuichi's new friends don't like Kokichi very much, so what he does is upping his ante, because any attention is better than no attention, and if his new pranks cross the line sometimes then that's totally on purpose, he is the supreme leader of EVIL after all

REGECT ANGST RETURN TO CUTE

I love this take on it so much because A) I am not crying and neither is Shuichi B) it’s so silly and keeps with the tone of the au a lot better (hurt and a lot of comfort)

I love how dedicated to it Kokichi is! He’s at the dinner table going in great detail on how he Terrorized his nemesis today and totally defeated him and Komaeda just smiles and goes “haha that’s nice Kokichi, make sure to eat your carrots”

Or the mini comic from the other day! Kokichi totally beams Shuichi with a snowball and Hajime is just like “Cmon Kokichi, we don’t do that to our friends, go apologize”

Nobody gets that that’s his rival! And once they all start at HPES it’s even WORSE because now he has all these people he has to compete with for HIS rival’s attention.

When it comes to trusted adults he feels he can confide in, I’m gonna pull a bit of a weird one. This just makes sense to me. I feel like out of every adult Kokichi knows, Gundham would take Kokichi’s rivalry completely seriously and treat it like the VERY SERIOUS matter that it is.

Don’t get me wrong, Kokichi loves Hajime and Komaeda, and they try their best not to hurt/invalidate his feelings, but they’re very much humoring him yknow? Like yeah Komaeda will help Kokichi make a glitter bomb for the next time he sees Shuichi but he doesn’t see it as the passionate declaration of war that it clearly is.

And it’s frustrating!! Take him seriously!! He tried to talk about it with teachers and they just tell him to stop being mean to Shuichi, TO WHICH SHUICHI COMES IN TO DEFEND HIM. RIVALS CANT DO THAT??????

And yknow? As the pranks get worse and the line gets lost in the dust, I feel like he’d get sent to the guidance counselor a ton and has just. Given up on getting them to get it yknow? He gave them chances ages ago and if they just aren’t smart enough to understand his evil machinations, then it sucks to be them. At the very least I think he still talks about it with Gundham, Komaeda, and Hajime, with the latter two at least PRETENDING to understand how him and Shuichi can CLEARLY never be friends.

#eggs can answer #kokichi ouma #he’s a menace!!!! an evil little guy #he is going to terrorize shuichi with his loyal army of 6 year olds!#also shuichi going home like “I had a lot of fun with my best friend Kokichi today :)’’#“love hanging out with Kokichi :)’’#and naegamigiri like “haha yeah Kokichi’s a little odd but he’s definitely a good friend :)’’

8 notes · View notes

rubykgrant · 1 year ago

Text

I think if they had seen each other outside of the very intentional personas of "serious/skeptical" and "meek/cheerful", a little bit of a romance between Jon and Martin would have happened a LOT sooner.

Like, if Jon had ever seen Martin tell somebody else off, some person who has come to yell at employees for whatever reason, and while Martin doesn't like confrontation, he can get pretty defensive on behalf of others... so he yells back, tells this so-and-so person to back off and leave, which they do. Jon sees that little hint of a righteous indignation, and a bit of mean-streak, Martin is capable of, when Martin shows his proverbial back-bone and stands up for other people, he's actually pretty INTIMIDATING. Jon just internally goes "Oh~"

Now, if Jon had EVER shown just a drop of his more silly-side, that little crush Martin was beginning to have on him would have bloomed into full-on love real quick. Jon is an a-hole on accident very often, but he also actively tries to NOT be very personable. He wanted to be taken seriously in every regard, and refused to notice his own need for connections companionship, so he pushed people away as much as possible... but we see that later, he has a sense of humor, he's a dork, and while he doesn't have much practice sharing it, he WANTS to be affectionate. Imagine Martin bringing him some tea, lingering in there for a while, and then Tim comes in to ask what they're up to. Without looking up from his papers, Jon just deadpans- "Oh, Martin was trying to seduce me into making out in the closet, but I keep telling him that's not appropriate in the workplace". Tim would dry-heave silent laughter, fall to the floor, roll out of there, go tell Sasha, who falls into a loud giggle-fit. Martin is mortified (and secretly smitten), and tells Jon "You are an EVIL LITTLE MAN", but can't stop smiling, and now he knows Jon is FUNNY. That's it, that's what does it

Half the spooky stuff wouldn't happen, they'd be too distracted with an office rom-com to be tormented by the horrors. Apocalypse avoided because they wouldn't stop flirting

Now that I've fully absorbed the Magnus Archives, my head has filled with some amusing thoughts, which I shall now share-

*some scenario in which they have a moment to chill, Jon takes the opportunity to be the one that makes Martin some tea*

Martin; Oh, this is very good! Thank you, Jon~

Jon; You're welcome. Glad you like it

*waits until Martin is almost finished with his cup*

Jon; I made that in the microwave

Martin; BETRAYAL

(another scenario in which Martin fins an old tape and listens to it, then goes to confront Jon)

*Martin hits play on the button*

Recording of Jon's voice; MARTIN, I HATE YOUR TEA, AND WISH YOU'D MAKE COFFEE INSTEAD

Martin; I want a divorce

Jon; NOnononononono, I didn't mean it, I was just testing if you could hear- MARTIN DON'T LEAVE ME, I LOVE YOU!

#hahaha #the magnus archives

28 notes · View notes

tinyfantasminha · 2 years ago

Note

This comes from a place of genuine interest, but I'm afraid it'll come off negatively, so feel free to ignore

How did you make a sona/character without slipping into cringe territory? Like seriously, vic is charming and pretty but doesn't feel like your typical self insert mary-sue, and id love to indulge in my own but worry about unintentionally falling into the cringe pit

How do you avoid it so well?

Hii! Don't worry, I can see what you mean but the way you phrased it came off as very judgmental so here comes a bit of rambling;

First, why does cringe bother you? Why does it stop you from doing what you want? Are you worried that you might dislike your own creation or are you worried that people are going to poke fun of it?

For a long time I've also felt ashamed of sharing my OCs with other people, or just some silly things I do because I was so afraid they would be called cringe, and it sucks when people (esp if they're your friends) won't support your likes or your creations and call it ''cringe'', it makes you self conscious and it makes you want to give up on that thing. That silly thing that brings you happiness. Shortly after I got in the twst fandom I remember how amazed I was that so many people would draw Yuu in their own way, be it different genders, appearences completely out of the ordinary, OCs for each dorms, and I was like ''wait, we can do that?!'' because it's been so long since I've been in a fandom enviroment where OCs and self inserts are widely accepted. I wouldn't have made an OC if I hadn't seen other people doing it too. It made me realize it was ok, that I wouldn't be judged, that I wasn't alone. And I also realized that your OC doesn't need to have a super complex writing for them to be likeable or accepted; not gonna lie, I often don't find many OCs interesting. I also dislike mary sues, and sometimes I've come across some and thought ''this character is too bland'' or ''this could use some work'' but then I realized one very important thing; Not everyone makes their content for clout - some people just want to self-indulge and make content for themselves, and that's ok!

Other content creators literally owe me nothing, and if they want their self insert to be a uwu bean baby and also the strongest magician ever and also loved by all the characters in the school, then they're on their right! I'm also on my right to not find this type of character interesting, so I just keep scrolling. I think everyone has seen at least once a OC who just don't click with their tastes, and there's nothing to do about it. Some things just aren't for everyone.

What's not okay however is being rudely vocal about how you dislike someone's creation; it doesn't matter if the OC looks like it was drawn by a 11-yo in MS paint on early 2000s deviantart, or if the writing it just bland or terrible; it still gives you no right to shit on other people's creations that they're proud of. They're not harming anyone, they just want to have fun, just like everyone else. Not everyone starts off as a great artist or writer, and if they want to get better they need to start off somewhere! You will never grow if you don't dive it in and try, even if it looks terrible at first.

Cringe culture makes so many people self conscious about self-indulging and just doing what makes them happy and honestly its so saddening………. So the solution is, fuck cringe culture. Fuck it, make your self insert, make your favorite characters fall in love with you, make catboys OCs and show them to the world! I swear, once you stop thinking ''what if it's cringe'' and just do whatever you want to do you will feel great. 80% of my content is purely self-indulgent, sometimes I feel insecure as well but most times I think ''nah this is my blog, if somebody is gonna dislike it then that's their problem'' and after starting to think more like this I realized this is the happiest and more comfortable I've been in making content for a fandom in AGES. It's so fulfilling and it brings me immense joy and comfort, even if the fandom unfortunately had become very toxic.

…That was a lot of text sorry 😅 now finally talking about my OC, I'm glad you like her! It struck me how some people say how ''unique'' she is even if she has a generic design 😂 she's got that charm that draws people to her and honestly I wasn't expecting that would happen asdkjdskjjkfsjk Now I don't think it's right for me to say how to not make a OC ''cringe'' because that would make it seem I'm belittling every other OC that doesn't have the same qualities as my OC, and that's not it - every oc is unique in their own way because their creators poured their heart on them. I can however pinpoint the ways on how I build her character uniquely, and (maybe) the reasons why people got attracted to her character; ::A disclaimer first is that none of these traits are definitive qualities in making a good character, this is just my own personal point of view::

Well the first thing I can think of is that when I make characters especially if they're self inserts is that I don't take them too seriously. I don't try too hard into making it seem it's an ACTUAL character from that fictional universe - They don't need any obscure motivation, fantastical habilities or a anime-personality trope, I just want them to be them. Just like you said, I wanted to avoid running into the mary sue archetype, and for that my character NEEDS to have flaws. I allow them to have awkward and embarrassing moments. I allow them to be expressive. Lots of people when creating an OC or a sona uses fiction as reference; fictional characters to base them on, and they're right they should use references; however when using exclusively fictional reference such as anime and cartoon, I don't think you can convey a truly relatable character. It's VERY important to take inspiration from real life too; Use your real life experiences and apply them to your character. How do you feel about a certain thing? How do you act in this certain situation? Or if you don't want to use yourself as reference, maybe use somebody you know or that you've seen - Take inspiration from your experiences and the real world. The character will come off much more natural and human, and that will naturally attract people to them; because they're truly relatable.

The other thing is cartoonish exaggeration - now this applies for my case, but I believe making your character expressive in lots of funny ways is also a certain way to make the character charismatic! For example when I draw Vic I either make her ''normal'' or make her a small squished gremlin 😂 and I didn't expect the chibi Vic to get so popular but ppl love her I guess lol so it's important to have a balance between the ''human and relatable'' side and the ''silly cartoon'' side!

---------

so this is it omfg thats a huge fucking post but I hope this enlighted you more about how you shouldn't give in to cringe culture and how I make my oc not be a mary sue, hope this helps!

#answered ask #discourse

86 notes · View notes

harfanfare · 4 years ago

Text

How to win a heart of Floyd Leech?

a/n: Someone requested this; ask got deleted by accident! Hope you will like it, Anon!

Warning!

Once you start walking through the specific points of the guide, your life will be exposed to the presence of Floyd Leech. Interrupting the action at one of the stages may cause many problems; F. Leech categorizes stopping as "boring", which puts the user of this guide in great danger.

The only way out is to get to the very end. Or not to start at all.

You act at your own risk.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

‏‏‎

1. Be an easy new target.

To one’s surprise, it is much harder not to catch his attention.

You can easily become another entertaining target of Floyd, mostly by doing silly things or him just considering them as ones.

And to automatically get labelled as “silly”, you just need to fall into one of his traps—he prepares them for someone else, maybe for goldfish, maybe for another person given a sea-inspired nickname, expecting to enjoy watching how familiar face twitches with terror as he jumps into the scene and tightly embraces passing student.

But no. You were the one who showed up in the wrong place and time as Floyd jumped out from his hideout, scaring you half to death. With a strangled yelp, you sharply backed away. After gaining a slight flush on your cheeks, you recognised who you just bumped into and quietly gasped.

However, he was much more bewildered than you were.

He had never encountered somebody who wouldn’t just freeze under his touch. Jumping away, gasping, muttering half-hearted apologies and flushing? That’s new.

That’s also entertaining.

Even after your quickly disappearance from the scene, his gaze somehow inexplicably started returning to you.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

2. Visit Mostro Lounge often.

“We’re looking for someone who would like to work part-time for Azul~” Floyd said, sliding poster across the table. He popped up in front of you unannounced, having your thoughts return to dark reality.

“Oh,” you replied quietly, packing your things faster. “Good luck with it.”

You got up from your seat, but the thought of letting you go just like that didn’t even cross Floyd’s mind.

“Ehh? Shrimpy, aren’t you going to try?” he asked, frowning. You winced a little at the nickname he called you, not sure how to feel about it. “You know, you won’t work there for free.”

Azul will grant your wish.

You fidgeted a little, questioning your response. You heard—who didn’t?—rumours that Octavinelle leader could fulfil any request for a certain price. Ones were working for it, others were paying, and lasts were trading their request with Azul’s one.

The thought of having anything just by working in some café made you consider the offer again—this time quickier.

“I will go,” you decided.

“Hooray!” Floyd smiled cheerfully, just as if he won some grand prize in the lottery. “But what could Shrimpy possibly wish for, to change your response so drastically~?” he wondered but didn’t get any answer in return.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

3. Be honest.

“Shrimpy...”

You passed Floyd, without sparing him a look. Anyone who has known you for a while would notice that your movements were a bit stiff and creaky.

Once you heard Floyd’s voice, a wave of tiredness struck you as if you didn’t get any sleep last night after working your shift in Mostro Lounge.

There were so many people to serve, so many things to do... and yet, you couldn’t help with anything, still not knowing how everything works, messing up with orders and breaking some plates in process.

Floyd buzzing around you, asking you some random questions (“Shrimpy, have you done it before?”). You answered them quickly, but each of them bumped you out of rhythm, making you forget what you were doing. It also didn’t help that Floyd certainly liked you being disoriented, replying with a shrug and grin on his face at your thundering glances.

So now, after gaining a little trauma from working in Octavinelle’s café, all you could do is ignore Floyd’s presence, silently accusing him of your infamous fiasco.

“Hey, Shrimpy!” he called you again, catching you up. “Are you mad?”

“I am not mad,” you snapped and took an unstable breath. “Look, I just started working, and on my first day I made already so many mistakes—”

“Yeah,” he replied indifferently. “And what with that?”

“...I couldn’t even correctly serve drinks—”

“Oh, stop!” Floyd muffled your mouth with his hand, an annoying look on his face. “I know where it is going. And no, you can’t quit a job, after all my efforts to get you there. It will get boring again!”

“But—”

“Stop, stop, stop,” he corrected his hand on your mouth, now not letting even a sound get through his fingers. “Azul knows that you tried your best. And for these plates you broke, he already added them to your paycheck. You need to practice! Not to give up, Shrimpy!”

You looked up at him, quite stunned by these words. Perhaps he quoted someone from the book or heard someone talking like that...

But it was encouraging. In some way, considering that you couldn’t protest, having your mouth covered. But still, it was encouraging.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

4. Take classes together.

You can have the power of controlling Floyd’s behaviour, making other students’ life easier. Or you two can be a walking disaster.

Turning alchemy lesson into putting random ingredients into a boiler and praying that the mysterious mixture won’t explode.

History classes started being a regular pinching ritual to keep yourself from falling asleep (you are being pinched more, even when you don’t feel sleepy).

In contrast, flying lessons are peaceful. Nor Jade, nor Floyd, nor Azul are fond of these classes. Floyd is much eager to stand both feet on the ground, watching you practice or having you sulking next to him about heights.

However, if you are a calm, shy, or tranquil person, exchanging little notes or drawings will be a little habit of yours. Handing them discreetly under the eye of sir Crewel is quite a challenge, but it also gives satisfaction once the note was given.

Floyd throws away most of your paper conversations, but the ones he really likes, he cherishes them by keeping them with him, stuffed in his pockets. He will be irritated if anyone would like to see what you two were writing about, even if the talk was about new strawberries delivery for the new recipe.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

5. Being ticklish or not.

There are two possible scenarios, whether his new, lovely target is ticklish or not.

If is: prepare for being touched a lot. Observing how you quiver with surprise, when he lightly—he especially makes his touch less fierce, knowing very well that tickling isn’t violent—wraps his hands around your waist, making you hold your breath.

He would tickle you a lot, very often making you cry out of laugh and pain that follows sharp writhing and fidgeting, but never that much, to seriously upset you. That’s some luck in such unlucky situation.

If not: he will try to find other weak point. Or will try to make you ticklish—his hands are particularly cold and pressing them to your warm skin, might make you give him a reaction he would enjoy.

Albeit, if you also won’t return any expression even then, he will seriously search for some other weakness. Slightly biting an ear lobe, whispering next to your ear or anything that could make his smile appear, once he made you put him somewhere between “I despise you with each and every cell” and abstract mumbling with the heat on your checks.

Oh, he loves your reactions so much.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6. Learn all nicknames he gave other people (you will unlock an option to slightly dish other people).

“Oh Lord...” you muttered to yourself, as your gaze followed scribbled list of names that Jade just passed to you. He willingly connected all student’s names with pseudonyms Floyd gave other people and handed the roaster over to you once you helped him with some kitchen cleaning.

“There are so many, right?” Jade replied with a polite smile on his face. “I’m sure you already memorised some of them, being around Floyd that much.”

You nodded mindlessly as you tried to get names into your head. You mouthed them soundlessly one by one, motivated to learn them by the end of the week.

The chuckle that escaped Jade’s lips startled you, and you realised that he still was in the room. Or that you didn’t leave the Lounge even after your shift has already ended.

“My brother surely didn’t exaggerate anything about you,” he said, his tone a bit more buoyant than ever, although you couldn’t be sure as the thick air of mystery still echoed in his voice. “I wonder how it will finally end?”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

7. Always share your takoyaki with him.

“What are you hiding, Shrimpy?”

You shuddered at a voice that you did not want to hear at this moment, not for all the world. Unless that the world included a chest filled with takoyaki, which you could give to certain somebody.

You felt that instead of a shashlik of tasty balls, you were holding a knife in your hands, a veritable proof of a crime you had committed. It weighed heavily in your grip, and Floyd's approaching footsteps did not make your situation any better.

It was a time to hide the evidence.

You pushed as much as you could into your mouth and swallowed a few balls without even gnawing them much. You almost choked on them.

“Me? I?” you asked innocently. You sincerely hoped that no sauce or a stray piece of cake was left on your face. “What could I possibly hide?”

"Hmm, hmm~," he drew closer, and you needed all your will gathered, to make yourself stay where you were. Even without looking in the mirror, you knew you were all pale on the face. “With my little eye, I spy something...”

His gaze went down, just to your hands, which you tried to hide behind your back.

Not giving him a clear look at your palms or wooden stick, you turned around on the heel and run with all your might. Your muscles felt somehow stiff as if they also didn’t see a chance to win this race.

Now Floyd was sure you are hiding something, and there is no chance he’ll let it go.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

8. Watch him at his basketball practice.

81:30 for the blue team!

“Floyd once again started playing wild,” Ace breathed with clear regret in his voice. He glanced your way, frowning at you. “It’s your fault. Please come at practices when Floyd is in my team, not otherwise.”

You laughed awkwardly as he walked away.

A moment later, Floyd reached for a bottle with water and a towel you bravely guarded through the whole practice. He smiled wholeheartedly, happy with the win, water, and your presence.

“How did you like the game?” he asked once he changed from PE clothes and you two started heading towards Octavinelle.

“It was really fun!” you admitted, a speck of amusement appeared in Floyd’s eyes. “The red team didn’t have much time to capture a ball before you got hold of it again.”

“Hehe~ I’m glad you liked it,” he said. “I really like to play basketball, even more than ever, when I know that you are watching! That’s why,” he added, sincerity well-heard in his voice, “you need to come even more often!”

You nodded happily.

You just couldn’t mind it, all that accompanying him.

It was... fun.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

9. Dance, dance, dance!

Heels tapped on the floor and the sound of these steps would probably have spread through the room, if not for the jazz music pounding through Mostro Lounge’s speakers.

Floyd pulled you closer, letting a playful smile on his lips stretch even more. You couldn’t help but smile back, before gasping as he spun you around your axis. You lost balance and would fall if not steady grip around your waist, as Floyd leaned on closer to you, making you bend on one leg more and entirely rely on his touch.

Last notes of melody faded, and you still were in that pose, facing each other. With each second, Floyd’s face was changing from some form of amazement to amusement, finally letting you properly stand.

“Ha... When did you learn to dance so smoothly?” you asked smiling in wonder.

“Hehe~ With legs you can dance a lot more than in the sea,” he answered. “On land, it’s super fun~”

You nodded at his words.

Floyd was a wonderful dancer.

But you can’t be sure if being a good dancing partner is the only thing that made you feel all warm and fuzzy because butterflies still didn’t leave your stomach.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

10. “Let’s do something fun!”

“Here is your paycheck,” Azul handed you a white envelope, sealed with a stamp with the Octavinelle logo. “And you, [Name], was also working for some request, right?”

You nodded as you stared at the envelope.

Somehow, knowing how stupid the lingering thought in your mind was, you couldn’t bear to look up. If you would, your gaze would probably ignore all the elegant furniture of the room, even the owner of the room, Azul, just to settle on Floyd.

If you saw anything more than his shoes, that stupid thought would make their way outside, turning plans into action.

And Floyd unknowingly did everything to make them come true.

“Shrimpy,” he cupped your face with his hands, judging by his voice he seemed quite... worried? When he made you look in his olive and gold eyes, you started holding your breath. “Are you okay?”

With that question, your strong will to wish for something expensive or practical was broken.

You started fidgeting more, not knowing how to express your thoughts in words. “I think I have a request... a question for Floyd, rather than for you, Azul...”

Azul nodded at first uncertain and the room has fallen into silence once again until you spoke.

“Well, Floyd,” you turned to him, trying your best not to wander your gaze away from him, “Please, take your time with answering, but I want your response to be, uh, honest.”

You were tripping onto your own words, embarrassment soaring in your body as you started to think that you should’ve kept quiet. But Floyd was patient with your answer, as well as Jade and Azul who observed the situation as if they predicted it before.

“I mean- Okay, just answer the question.” You took an erratic breath. “Would you like to—”

“Sure!” Floyd interrupted you before even hearing the whole question. “I would like to do everything with you.”

You stood there, all confused. But, by Floyd’s expression you knew that he guessed what you wanted to say. Face heating up, you forgot about Azul and Jade, who hid a chuckle by turning his head to the side.

“How fun,” he said as Floyd wrapped his arms around you, as if shielding you from other people in the room.

“I won’t share Shrimpy with you, Jade. Not a chance.”

#floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #floyd x reader #floyd #twisted wonderland floyd #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst floyd #twst floyd x reader #anonymous

877 notes · View notes

miraclerizuin · 7 months ago

Text

it might be about junk food and diet culture but it might also be about the media we value or don't value and i guess it could be about childhood and children's books and offering them the respect they deserve, could it possibly be about all three? how are we going to manage that?

sometimes i just want to read fanfic. like, quick fluffy fanfic for a fandom im not that obsessed with currently but have a long history with, about characters who are pretty cool but not my faves, because it is a casual thing and i have struggled to pick up a book for months.

it's not "just" fanfic. it is a specific remedy for a specific ailment. ive had enough of apologism and In Defense of Fanfic as if every fanfic is in need of the same defense, as if after all these years one more thinkpiece will finally succeed in Demanding To Be Taken Seriously.

i dont want to discuss or debate the snacks i keep in my desk drawer. they are a necessary part of my routine, because planning balanced meals is a challenge for me, and i get hungry unpredictably, and in order for them to work, they have to be things i want to eat that are easy to keep in stock and easy to eat on the go. so they are cakes! they are little cakes and on a bad day i eat too many and sometimes i get a tummyache. not all of this is ideal. but i thought about fluff fanfic as junk food and i thought no, it is what i need right now. junk food is sometimes what i need to eat, too, so how can it be junk?

i dont want to talk about sugar. my snack drawer is not the global sugar industry. it is my emotional support snack drawer that helps me do my job.

maybe if somebody can invent a fresh fruit that is individually wrapped and can be eaten in under a minute with little-to-no mess, i will consider a change to my snack routine (I love fresh fruit)

this is getting rambly.

im saying we need to revisit the entire paradigm. we need to reevaluate what we think is junk. the role of junk in the personal ecosystem. im not reading fanfic to make me a better writer (except when i am) and im not reading children's books to make me a better children's librarian (except when i am). stop saying it's good (for a children's book) stop saying it doesn't matter because it's a children's book stop saying it's bad because it's a children's book DO YOU LOVE YOUR CHILDREN? DO YOU RESPECT THEM AS HUMAN BEINGS? WHY WOULD YOU NOT GIVE THEM GOOD ART SIMPLY BECAUSE THEY ARE SMALLER AND NEWER THAN YOU?

and ohhhhh it is so far past my bedtime let us not even get started on the teens. dismiss anybody whose taste you disagree with or whose book you couldn't get into - it's sooooo YA, maybe teenage girls would like it but nobody GROWNUP, nobody who MATTERS. christ alive. youre not better than the people reading YA! why on earth would you be! (and do not even start ok i have seen the ya book ppl who have their own sense of superiority and they're being silly too. im here to talk about ALL OF IT.)

because im talking about pop music and horror movies and romcoms and country music and audiobooks and anime and superhero movies and science fiction and chicklit and im talking about ALL OF IT!!! when we put something down we call it juvenile which is also literally the name of the section of books i am in charge of at the library. childish immature etc. my eight-year-old library patron stepped on a single cheese cracker on the carpeted floor and came and got me and asked for the broom and dustpan. like what the fuck. imagine caring that much. imagine not being so tired. i love her. it's past my bedtime

i have something to say but im not sure what it is yet, ill keep you posted

16 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Note

I love your Nie brothers content, all of it, but there is so little written about the friendship between Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian! We know they were friends in Cloud Recesses, but it's never explored how these genius guys, even if one is focused on magical inovations and the other on strategy and politics, got on. Something which shows how well they got each other would be great

Wei Wuxian’s fist trembled. How dare he – worthless peacock – my shijie..!

But before he could throw a punch, he saw a swirl of white – Lan Wangji, sweeping forward with a face like a graveyard, and Nie Huaisang cringing in his shadow – and suddenly he realized that he didn’t need to punch Jin Zixuan.

Speaking of others behind their backs is forbidden.

Sneering without reason is forbidden.

Arrogance is forbidden.

Do not be haughty and complacent.

Do not praise yourself and slander others.

Do not make assumptions about others.

Do not insult people.

Do not take your words lightly.

Wei Wuxian grinned with teeth. “Hey, Lan Zhan!” he sang out, and Jin Zixuan blanched. “Perfect timing!”

Later, after he’d laughed himself sick at Jin Zixuan’s punishment – humiliatingly perfect – and making his appreciation very clear to Lan Wangji, he went to go find Nie Huaisang.

“When did you go get Lan Zhan?” he asked, honestly curious. He hadn’t known he was going to get into a fight until he was there and it was happening, but Nie Huaisang, of all people, had apparently figured out what was going to happen before it happened and took steps to fix it.

“The second they started talking about girls,” Nie Huaisang said promptly. “It’s fairly obvious that Jin Zixuan is resentful of his parents managing his life and he’s lashing out at everything, including specifically your shijie, so a nasty comment was inevitable.”

Wei Wuxian blinked, derailed from his original line of questioning. “He – what? Wait, that’s why he’s so rude about my shijie?”

“Of course,” Nie Huaisang said, blinking back at him. “What did you think? That he just didn’t like her? He’s barely even met her.”

Wei Wuxian hadn’t thought about that way, but it made a certain amount of sense. “When did you get so good at reading people?” he asked, bemused. “I didn’t…uh…”

“Think I have any skills?”

Wei Wuxian coughed.

“I don’t!” Nie Huaisang beamed, clearly very proud of it. “But I do have a lot of expensive hobbies, and that means I need pocket money.”

Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure he understood the connection, and said as much.

Nie Huaisang laughed at him. “The Nie sect believes in self-sufficiency,” he explained. “My brother gives me a certain amount of money to spend, sure, but we’re not the Jin sect; I can’t just buy everything that I lay my eyes on and send the bill back home – my brother would break my legs! I’m expected to find a way to increase the money I get until it’s enough to cover both my needs and wants, necessities and luxuries both, and if I can’t, then I have to do without luxuries.”

Nie Huaisang has never, not once, in the entire few months Wei Wuxian spent in his company, done without luxuries.

“So,” Wei Wuxian said, feeling oddly unnerved and unsure why, “you learned how to read people because you want to act like…a merchant?”

Nie Huaisang lightly tapped his head with his fan, rolling his eyes at him. “Stop being such a landed gentry young master, Wei-xiong. There’s nothing wrong with trade! How much of your sect’s money comes from merchants interested in keeping their trade routes free of resentful energy?”

Wei Wuxian wrinkled his nose a little. “That’s cheapening it a bit, don’t you think? As cultivators, it’s our duty to stand up as heroes, to defend the innocent and defeat evil, to purify –”

“Right, right. Remind me again how the Jiang sect pays for all that pretty purple?”

“Well…I mean…”

Technically, yes, there were all the dye sellers and the fabric merchants, but…

Nie Huaisang was laughing at him.

“Don’t worry about it, Wei-xiong,” he said, wiping his eyes. “You stick to doing your own thing. If you ever need to sell anything, come to me.”

“Of course,” Wei Wuxian said, privately thinking to himself that he’d rather farm for crops than become a seller hawking his goods in the marketplace. “Hey, wait, what is it that you sell, anyway?”

Nie Huaisang sniggered and refused to tell him.

It was porn.

Also barbeque and liquor, although in that case Nie Huaisang mostly played the middleman between the vendors of Caiyi Town and the students stuck eating Lan vegetables.

Sometimes he could even be convinced to tug on his contacts for other things, too.

“You’re a true friend,” Wei Wuxian said, clutching the bottle of chili sauce to his chest. “A true and wonderful friend.”

“You still have to pay,” Nie Huaisang said, his eyes curving up behind his fan. “No discounts.”

“A ruthless, vicious, cut-throat friend…”

“I lend you the porn for free, don’t I?

“Wonderful! Wonderful friend!”

No matter what Jiang Cheng said, Wei Wuxian was trying to keep his head down during their time at the indoctrination camp. He was taking this whole thing very seriously: he wasn’t making a fuss (too much), he wasn’t being insulting (too much), he wasn’t even socializing (too much).

Lan Wangji didn’t count, anyway; after what had happened to him, he needed someone bothering him.

But Wei Wuxian was being good and keeping back from the rest!

Well, he was, except then he saw Nie Huaisang and just had to go over to say hello. It was only polite, and had nothing to do with the fact that during the months he spent at the Cloud Recesses, he’d learned that Nie Huaisang could sell anyone on anything.

“I don’t suppose you have contacts that will sell you barbeque here,” Wei Wuxian said as a greeting, because the food they’d received was frankly disgusting in a way that made him wistful for the Lan sect like it had been a gourmet restaurant.

“Well,” Nie Huaisang hedged, and Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t get too excited, it’s not barbeque…”

It was meat, though, chunks of that had probably been roasted as skewers at one point, and Wei Wuxian didn’t even care that it was cold as he scarfed it down, immediately feeling ten times better than he’d been before.

“Where?” he asked. “How?”

“There’ll be a surprise inspection tomorrow morning,” Nie Huaisang said instead. “Keep your head down, they’re looking to make an example out of somebody.”

“How do you know that?”

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “I brought art.”

“To the indoctrination camp?”

“Wen soldiers get lonely and bored too, Wei-xiong.”

“You’re trading for information using porn?”

“Don’t be silly. I’m trading porn for meat, and getting the information while we’re chatting. A large number of the Wen sect cultivators used to be their own sects, you know, before they were absorbed, and not all of them are happy about what’s going on here. You just have to figure out who the loyalists are, avoid them, and focus on the rest, and it’s easy.”

“I still can’t believe you brought porn to the Wen sect,” Wei Wuxian said, shaking his head. “What’ll you do if your brother finds out?”

“You’re joking, right? He helped me pack it.”

Wei Wuxian will never understand the Nie sect.

Wei Wuxian stared wordlessly at his bowl.

There was a single slice of radish in it.

“Is this a joke?” he asked Wen Qing, because it might be, and she glared at him, meaning that no, it was not. “Don’t we have anything else?”

“With what money, Wen-gongzi? Do you think it comes from thin air?”

“I had a friend once who could make it come out of thin air,” he grumbled, looking down at his bowl. He’d practiced inedia, he didn’t need it, except for the fact that he really, really did. Not having a golden core made things hard. “He could’ve sold fish to fishermen, except he mostly just sold porn.”

Wen Qing rolled her eyes at him. “Wonderful story, Wei-gongzi. Positively heartwarming. But unless your old erotic art dealer is going to come to Yiling to help us sell some radishes, I don’t care.”

Naturally, that was impossible. Wei Wuxian was a villain now, his name blackened, the whole cultivation world against him –

Actually, as far as he could tell, the Nie sect didn’t seem to give a damn about him one way or another. From all the stories Nie Huaisang had told about his brother and from everything he’d seen in the war, Nie Mingjue wasn’t the sort of person to let evil sit around on a mountain while he was busy with other things – if he objected, he’d be there the next day with his saber, ready to put him in his place.

He hadn’t, obviously.

His hatred of the Wen sect was pretty well-known, but he’d taken no action at all to invade Yiling and demand that Wei Wuxian hand them over, and Wei Wuxian was mostly sure that it wasn’t because he was scared of what Wei Wuxian could do with the Stygian Tiger Seal.

…it was probably just the hunger getting to him and making him think crazy things. Not caring enough to go against him was pretty far from supporting him, after all.

But, hey, he wouldn’t be risking anything if he just wrote a tiny little letter asking Nie Huaisang for some advice on selling things, right?

I never thought I’d see the day my Wei-xiong finally became a merchant, the return letter said. I’ll be there in three days. I expect to see liquor.

Wei Wuxian took Wen Ning down the mountain and stood on his shoulders in order to emancipate a jar from the local tavern, but by the time Nie Huaisang arrived, there was, in fact, liquor.

Even Wen Qing – who had opposed the entire outing once she had heard about it upon their return – suddenly thought it was a perfectly reasonable sort of theft when Nie Huaisang offered to trade a giant crate full of meat for it.

“We had some leftovers from a boar hunt,” Nie Huaisang said mournfully, accepting the liquor and a bowl of radishes. “I need variety, Wei-gongzi, it’s terrible. You have to help me get rid of it; I can’t stand to look at it any longer.”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Wei Wuxian reminded him in between glorious bites of pork. He was going to be a very good friend and do his best to ensure that Nie Huaisang’s request was fulfilled, even if it meant taking seconds and possibly thirds. “I asked for advice, not a visit.”

“You can’t expect me to put my good name on what could be inferior goods,” Nie Huaisang sniffed.

“Your good name? The one known for porn, you mean?”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes at him. “So show me what you have to sell.”

“It’s mostly just the radishes,” Wei Wuxian said. “I tried to tell Wen Qing that we should plant potatoes, but –”

“Forget the radishes,” Nie Huaisang said. “What’s this I hear about you designing a compass that pinpoints resentful energy?”

“Oh, that?” Wei Wuxian said, blinking. “Yeah, I made one of those – the Burial Mounds is the biggest source of resentful energy around, and it’s easier to have a compass that points home instead of north, you know? But what does that have to do with selling radishes?”

“Wei-xiong, you’re hopeless. Leave it all to me, and you’ll have your sect up and running in no time.”

“Yeah, that would be – wait, sect? What sect?”

“Actually,” Nie Huaisang said, tapping his fan against his cheek. He was just plain old ignoring Wei Wuxian now, which, hey! “I take it back – before you leave everything to me, show me what other ideas you’ve been cooking up. What about those talismans you used during the war? The spirit-drawing ones?”

“Spirit summoning,” Wei Wuxian corrected.

“Yes, those. Have you improved on those at all?”

“Uh, I mean, I guess…”

“Good. Show me everything.”

“So I have a sect now,” Wei Wuxian told Lan Wangji, who had come to visit. “We sell things to support it. Apparently.”

Lan Wangji nodded, apparently already aware of this. “The clan elders have agreed that using your flags to draw fierce corpses and other creatures away from areas with innocent human lives is an acceptable use.”

“Even the Lan sect?” Wei Wuxian marveled. “No wonder we’re making so much money.”

Then he sighed.

Lan Wangji looked questioningly at him.

“Well, I have a sect now,” Wei Wuxian said. “Everyone’s expecting me to – you know. Form the core of the sect.”

“Marry,” Lan Wangji concluded. Possibly advised? No, that didn’t sound like he was urging him to go ahead, which made a total of one person. “You do not have to if you do not wish. You already have an heir.”

“A-Yuan’s too young to be a proper heir,” Wei Wuxian objected, though he was secretly gleeful that people were generally accepting him as one. “And obviously I can’t just pick anyone; how will I know if they’re a spy? Or if they’ll secretly dislike A-Yuan?” He sighed again. “The worst part is, I think Nie Huaisang is plotting against me, too.”

“Plotting?”

“Yeah! He’s encouraging people to ask me about marriage, when clearly it’s better for me to stay off the market…what about you, Lan Zhan? Are you planning on marrying?”

“No,” Lan Wangji said.

“We’ll be a bunch of old bachelors, then,” Wei Wuxian said. “You should come more often, A-Yuan loves you…hey! I have a great idea! Why don’t we get married? Then no one will bother us ever again!”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said.

“Mm? What does that mean?”

“It means I will need to send Nie Huaisang his payment in the morning,” Lan Wangji said, and moved to sit next to Wei Wuxian.

“Payment? You bought something from him? What did you want to –”

Lan Wangji silenced him pretty effectively, no spell necessary, and by the time Wei Wuxian retained enough ability to think through what exactly the purchase must have been, he’d already been converted to thinking that it was a very intelligent purchase to make.

Nie Huaisang really could sell anything.

#mdzs #wei wuxian #nie huaisang #wangxian #my fic #my fics #sales pitch #violetablood

813 notes · View notes