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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

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so ironwood was confirmed to be dead by Miles in a $42 cameo session, where the person who bought it had asked for "comforting words to soothe our anguished souls" bc she was an ironwood fan and wanted a pick-me-up after that devastating finale. miles' response was to essentially mock his fans (it really sounded like that, especially since he ended with "thank you jimmy, may you rest in pieces, crushed beneath the weight of the kingdom you tried so hard to hold up above your head."

apparently the VA, jason rose, confirmed it in DMs w the same fan who sent in the cameo ask. so like, quite apart from how rude and disrespectful it was of miles to make a mockery of james in a cameo where he'd been specifically asked for comforting words regarding the character, ngl but i think that if you have to confirm a MAJOR CHARACTER is dead outside of canon bc you failed to actually show it on screen.....you've failed as a writer. and also that kind of thing shouldn't be confirmed in an expensive and exclusive interview lmao like how hard would it have been to just talk about good aspects to james' character instead of calling him a dickbag and saying 'don't do a genocide, guys!!'

it reeks of unprofessionalism and also it just makes everything surrounding ironwood's character arc even worse since apparently 'his fate was sealed' from the moment he was introduced to the show.

Me, who received the first Moderna shot yesterday (🎉 🎉 🎉 ): Ugh I feel too crappy to answer asks today

Me, upon hearing this news: You know, I have suddenly found an untapped source of energy

Okay, all joking aside, I watched the vid and it’s definitely a lot. I don’t have any information about the request itself except for what Miles mentions in the recording, so I can’t speak to what the fan may have been looking for outside of that, but some highlights include:

“This is for the filth in my degenerate discord server” - Yeah, that’s how a lot of us (fans) talk about ourselves. It sounds like someone who really enjoys Ironwood and makes joking, self-deprecating comments about their love of a character. That’s familiar to me and speaks to the expectation that they hoped for something other than what they got. At least, if I’d sent in a request like that I wouldn’t be happy with the vid, but that’s obviously my own perspective and not this fan’s. I’d be very curious to know their own thoughts though...

“Sometimes a character we like doesn’t make it, does something we don’t agree with... or both!” - That is indeed how characters work! The real question is whether their death/actions make sense within the story, which is not addressed here. Many fans who enjoyed Ironwood don’t have a problem with him dying or turning into a villain — I’ve been honest about my acceptance of either/both, regardless of personal preference, provided it was written well — and that was always the issue. Not what happened to Ironwood, but how it happened.

“James Ironwood’s fate was sealed the moment his character was conceived many years ago.” - Personally, I don’t believe this. RT makes a lot of grand, sweeping statements about what’s been planned “for years” or “since the beginning” and too often we’re faced with writing that directly contradicts that. Though it’s unlikely we’ll ever know the truth, neither option paints the writing team in a good light. Either they’re straight up lying about what’s been planned (or twisting tossed out possibilities into assurances after the fact. For example, someone once suggested Ironwood might become a villain somehow at some point and now that’s presented as, ‘We’ve deliberately been working towards this specific ending for years’), or they’re being truthful and just... can’t write what they want to write. It doesn’t sound good when a writer says, ‘I’ve planned this the whole time’ and a good chunk of the fandom responds, ‘Then why couldn’t we see that planning this whole time?’

“When James was introduced we intentionally made him look like kind of a big dickbag, but then we realized that dickbag had a heart and was also half metal, and that was pretty cool!” - I don’t even know what to make of this. I’ve deconstructed his introduction before, but to summarize here, he’s presented as no more of a “dickbag” than Ozpin who may not be doing enough to protect the people, Winter who allowed herself to get taunted into a fight on campus, or Qrow who deliberately started that fight while drunk. Glynda is the only one who is arguably innocent here. The implication seems to be that obviously Ironwood became a villain because “we intentionally made him look like kind of a big dickbag” but then... does that mean Qrow will become a villain too someday??

The comments about them realizing he had a heart and was half metal just speak to that lack of planning. No, you obviously didn’t plan this downfall from the start if you “realized” something as basic as him caring for others partway through writing him and then allowed that care to drive his character for so long that the decent into villainy read as OOC, rather than inevitable. You obviously weren’t writing him with a backstory that influenced his character — of which his semblance is a major part — if you “realized” he was half-metal... whenever that happened. The fact that we never saw that backstory, or the semblance on screen, or returned to his half-metal nature outside of a ‘That’s coding for evilness’ theme again speaks to the fact that either a) none of this was actually planned or b) the execution is seriously lacking here.

“Let us all take a moment to thank General James Ironwood for his service to the Kingdom of Atlas, but... at the end of the day, don’t do a genocide [laughs]” - I’m having trouble articulating why I dislike this. I’m really too tired to be unpacking this right now (lol), but it has something to do with — as you say, anon — that mocking tone. Something else to do with the surge of purity culture in recent years. The tone feels like it’s tied up in an unsaid, ‘You like the character who tried to commit genocide?’ accusation when, you know, he’s a fictional character. People can like characters who do bad things. More significantly, he’s a fictional character Miles wrote. There’s something particularly distasteful about writers who feel like they’re laughing at fans for liking something when they created the thing with the intent that we would like it. And many did. So they gave attention, time, money, passion, etc. to the work and then when that part of the work finished, the creator appears to make light of that investment? Idk, I’m speaking about more than just this one line — the tone of the vid as a whole, really — but it feels much less like “You enjoy Ironwood! 😄” and more “You enjoy Ironwood... 😬” Like yeah, fans enjoyed the character that you wanted them to enjoy who you wrote to have a heart and then suddenly commit genocide instead. There’s definitely nothing complicated in all that.

“Thank you, Jimmy. May you rest in pieces crushed beneath the weight of the kingdom you tried so hard to hold above your head. Amen.” - All of the above x2 with the added issue that this was never shown on screen. Miles presents Ironwood’s arc like this seven year long plan when in fact they couldn’t even manage the basic move of telling the audience what happened to the character in his final hour. The fact that a fan had to pay to find out whether Ironwood is dead is not a gold star for the writing.

Every time the RWBY crew speaks about the story in supplementary material the canon itself gets worse. Hyping Clover/Qrow on social media pushes the canon closer to queerbaiting. We’re way closer to that with them hyping Blake/Yang. Long ago comments about Ozpin’s cane suddenly make Volume 8 a retcon. A Q&A about Ironwood’s semblance makes his arc a thousand times more confusing about how we’re supposed to read his character — to name just a few. Now this. When a friend first told me this info had dropped I thought, “Thank god. He’s not coming back then. I don’t want them writing Ironwood’s character anymore,” but really... can we believe anything the crew says? “Crushed beneath the weight of his kingdom” doesn’t mean Ironwood won’t show up in Volume 9 if it’s a spirit world type adventure. It doesn’t mean he won’t show up three years from now with even more metal in his body and a, “We said he was crushed, not that he was dead ;)” explanation. Hell, it doesn’t even mean he won’t show up with no explanation at all because, as established, what’s said in supplementary works and what happens on screen are two entirely separate things. Iffy as the vid may come across to those who did like Ironwood, I was initially happy that it at least gave us some closure... but now I’m not even sure about that.

#rwby #rwde #mymetas #Anonymous

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hopeless-nostalgiac · 4 years ago

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with all appliances and means to boot: ncis/tiva fic

for this challenge, @loudlooks requested Tiva + "I didn't know you could do that." thank you for the inspiration!! *hugs*

set summer between S3-4 w/ team dynamics & tiva (a LOT of tiva—they took over the fic, basically, and I’m not sorry about it)

also, this turned out like eight times longer than I expected & was the most fun and freeing thing I’ve worked on in years, so

enjoy:)

FFN

“I didn’t know you could do that!”

McGee’s voice filtered over news-chattering televisions, incessantly ringing phones, and chicken-clacking keyboards to reach Tony at his desk.

“There was no reason to mention it earlier. It is not exactly a useful skill, my friend.” Ziva’s full-throated chuckles were wind chimes amidst the office drudgery.

Tony shook off the eruption of gooseflesh on his arms. It was way too early for that. And McGee was babbling again.

“I’ve just never met someone in real life who could do it.”

“Really?!”

A boom of shared laughter enveloped them.

Glancing at the digital read-out on his monitor, Tony silently cheered. 9:07. Totally busted. Then he pretended to be busy with paperwork, so his attention was occupied ahead of time.

The agents’ conversation lowered until it faded completely, coinciding with their entrance into the squadroom.

Tony had that effect on them now. The tables, as the saying went, had turned. They were the class troublemakers to his super-strict teacher. They, the unruly cadets, and he, the veteran drill sergeant. They were Agents; he was Boss.

“Agent McGee. Officer David. You’re late.”

McGee froze while swinging around his desk. Ziva froze after dropping her gear. Tony continued to stare yet not see the file in front of him, but he didn’t need visual confirmation to know the teammates were exchanging glances, coordinating their plan of counterattack.

“Well, technically we were in the building on time.” The opening lob courtesy of McGee.

“Technically, that’s not good enough, McTardy.”

“It was when you were wearing our shoes.”

Tony fought an eye roll. “You can’t throw me off the scent with a well-timed idiom blunder, Officer David.”

“Can’t I, Tony?” Ziva’s voice was louder, closer to him.

Out of his peripheral vision, he spied her leaning on the divider between their workspaces. So close now, he caught a whiff of her lavender mint shampoo as she flicked at a cascade of curls that had fallen over her shoulder. If this was their strategy, well, it wasn’t the worst angle.

But Tony DiNozzo was better.

“No, you can’t,” he reiterated, finally gracing each of them in turn with his steady gaze. Calm, yet intense. Everything rumbling beneath the surface. “And it’s Agent DiNozzo. Or Boss.”

Ziva stared back, golden-brown eyes matching his intensity, but not the calm. She rattled off a string of heated Hebrew, ending with a sharp snap of her teeth before spinning around on her heel and dropping heavily into her desk chair.

Crazy chick.

“So, anyway. Just to be clear: If you’re here after me, you’re late. Period.” Tony slapped a case folder closed, causing his desk to tremble; he could emphasize his words, too. “For today, you can make amends by telling me whatever it is McGee didn’t know Ziva could do. I’m thinking it involves lots of stretching, but if there’s a video game reference, leave it out. Go!”

And like that, authority forfeited for curiosity.

McGee did roll his eyes and muttered something that suspiciously sounded like waste of time under his breath. Ziva scoffed, typing noisily at her computer and decidedly not looking in Tony’s direction.

“That’s an order.” Even he didn’t buy the command.

9:10. The day was shot.

. . .

If someone asked Tony how his first weeks as leader of MCRT were going, he’d say, “Good, considering the circumstances,” with a flash of white teeth. He didn’t like to lose face, sure, but he was pretty confident it was the truth, too.

Because when your boss quit and ran off to Mexico, leaving you in charge of a team that for years affectionately regarded you as The Class Clown, the circumstances weren’t on your side and ‘good’ was the most you could hope for.

. . .

“What did you do?”

Passing through the automatic doors, Tony came up short—as much due to the always assaulting antiseptic stench as the accusation. “Why do you assume I did something wrong? Can’t I come see my favorite Autopsy Gremlin with no ulterior motive?”

“Sure you can,” Palmer called from the freezer section, where he was sliding a corpse home. “But I already talked to Abby, who talked to McGee.”

Fantastic.

“So before, with the ‘what did you do?’...that was kind of redundant, huh?”

“Guess so.” A dorky chortle escaped the assistant. “I mean, seriously, they were only late by a couple minutes, Tony. Sorry, Agent DiNozzo.” Another hiccup of laughter.

Great. Just great.

“Gee, I was hoping I could escape some of the ridicule down here....” Tony pressed his palms against the cold steel of an autopsy table, shoulders hunched, depositing weight into the defeated stance. All his course-correcting tactics, including buying his team lunch, had done little to reverse the morning’s death blow. McGee and Ziva were ignoring him aside for a lone campfire, and then their interactions were clipped—aggressively so where the ex-assassin was concerned. Now the damage was spreading to the sub-basement, it seemed.

“Look on the bright side, you’re the team leader. It’s what you’ve always wanted, right?” Palmer mirrored Tony on the other end of the table, adjusting his glasses before adding, “This is a bump in the road, but no one ever achieved greatness without first overcoming resistance.”

“That’s wise, Palmer. For a man who talks to the dead. You wouldn’t happen to know—”

“What McGee didn’t know Ziva could do?”

Tony blinked. Maybe they’d been underestimating the Autopsy Gremlin all along. “Yeah. Know anything about it?”

“It’s not a big deal. We were at the bar last night and first the waitress got Abby’s drink order mixed up, but it was super busy, so I suggested that—”

“Sometime today, Palmer.”

“Well, it turns out Ziva can knot a cherry stem with her tongue, and then...”

Oh, it was more wondrous than he’d guessed (and that list was long).

Palmer’s rambling dissolved to the background of Tony’s thoughts. He couldn’t get to the audacity of everyone going out for drinks without him because the dexterity of Ziva’s tongue was front and center. As he was recently familiarized with that very tongue and the talented mouth it resided in, it was all too easy to lose himself in a sexy daydream of the alleged feat.

Until he remembered how pissed she was at him. Bubble, burst.

. . .

If someone asked Tony how his first weeks sleeping with Ziva, his former partner and current subordinate, were going, he’d say, “What? I’m not—we’re not—how dare—what?!”

Because when your boss quit and ran off to Mexico, some of his rules haunted you.

. . .

“Rough day?”

Tony looked up right away. It was best not to play games with the director, who emerged stealthily in the dim, empty squadroom. He’d dismissed McGee and Ziva at regular quitting time, unable to make eye contact with either of them—for different reasons—but stayed behind to catch up on last week’s case reports. Him, voluntarily completing paperwork.

Rough was an understatement.

“I see my shortcomings are making the rounds.”

Jenny’s smile was beautifitic, the one she wore during news interviews. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t seeking it out. I was speaking to Ducky on a separate matter, and he happened to mention talking with Mr. Palmer, who—”

“Got the scoop from Abby because McGee blabbed to her,” Tony finished, barely restrained. “Yeah, I’m well acquainted with the watercooler daisy chain.”

It didn’t slip his notice that Ziva was the missing link. The text he’d started writing to her the second she disappeared through the elevator doors was unfinished and unsent on his phone.

“Did you also hear they went for drinks after work without inviting me?” It came out as a whine.

Jenny didn’t mask her amusement. “Did you always invite Gibbs for drinks? No, because he was your boss and you were probably venting about him.”

Touché.

“I’m trying, ma’am.” This he intoned with every fiber of professionalism and sincerity he could summon in the moment. The problem was that this wasn’t his first mistake since taking over—wouldn’t be the last—but he was trying. He wanted that noted. Also, there was an insane learning curve, and yes, big shoes to fill. Could he be blamed for that?

The redhead stepped forward, switching her smile for an expression of...not quite pity. Understanding? “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown, Agent DiNozzo.”

“Robin Hood: Men in Tights?”

“Shakespeare.” Jenny chuckled, her fair eyes sparkling in the light of his desk lamp. Tony could see why Gibbs was once head-over-heels for her, back when they were partners. He knew something of those complicated emotions, of which the text draft on his phone contained damning evidence.

“It’s the nature of being in charge,” she continued. “You’re going to have crappy days and plenty of nights when you can’t sleep. My advice, from experience? When you screw up, apologize and do better next time.”

“Isn’t that a sign of weakness?” It was a reflex, after so many years.

Jenny caught his eye and held it. “No. It’s a sign of respect.”

. . .

He was sober when he showed up on her doorstep. Stopping off for some liquid courage briefly flitted through his brain, but flitted out just as quickly. McGee, he could buy a NutterButter, eat some humble pie himself. All would be cool again. Ziva was a different story.

Namely, a story with a lot of sex in it, and it’d barely been a month yet. That he spent a large portion of the day envisioning her tongue doing erotic dances with a red cherry stem wasn’t helping. It also further convinced him of a brutal truth: Things were changing. Things had already changed.

Ziva, outlined by the glow from inside the apartment, crossed her arms over a baggy workout t-shirt. Curls piled in a messy bun. It was Tuesday, kickboxing night. “If you are here for a booty call, you will be sorely disappointed.” Each word was wrapped in her delicious Israeli accent, momentarily distracting him from their sum meaning.

He’d expected as much.

“See, when you want to get them right…” Tony’s attempted humor and roguish smile failed to earn him leniency.

“Goodnight, Boss.”

The door hurtled toward him, closing on his chance to repent—and more than that, his chance with her. His left hand flew up, catching the wood with a few inches to spare.

“Hey, whoa. Wait. I’m here to apologize, all right?” Breath whooshed in and out of him; sweat beaded instantly on his forehead.

Okay, so it wasn’t just about the sex. He was enamored with her, and it hadn’t been a full month yet.

Ziva yanked the door back, though the arrangement of her features maintained dubious feelings. She raised her eyebrows in a way that said, Yes, and?

“I was an idiot, Ziva.”

A corner of her delicate mouth pulsed. “Good start.”

The heaviness in his chest released. He dared another smile, softer-gentler this time, and the door stayed open. “I was too hard on you and McGee.”

“You will apologize to him as well, yes?”

“Yes. McSweetTooth will wet himself with glee, I’m sure of it.” Tony shuffled his feet, bringing him onto her brown doormat, never dropping her gaze. “But seriously, Ziva, I know I messed up, especially, you know...I mean, you should be able to call the guy you’re sleeping with by his first name, even if he’s your boss. That is,” he sheepishly tagged on, “if I’m still the guy you’re sleeping with, after today.”

For a bloated handful of seconds, Ziva froze, as she had that morning in the squadroom. Eyes like lasers, drilling through him. It lasted long enough for doubts to creep in. Then—

“Are you?”

So simple, but coupled with her head tilted to expose honeyed neck, her popped knee, and the slight part of her plumped lips, the challenge was clearly set for him.

This would be fun.

Tony launched over the doorway, literally sweeping Ziva off her feet as he plowed into the apartment. An honest-to-goodness squeal filled his ears, then that wind-chime laugh took over and his knees wobbled in their sockets—nevermind her 100-something pounds hanging on his torso.

It was the first time he’d carried her this way—any way—but her arms and legs wrapped around his body with an ease he would have analyzed if not for the supple give of her breasts against his chest, or her frizzy hair tickling his chin. Her mouth alternated between whispering the dirtiest promises in his ear and nibbling on his neck. Thoughts would have to wait.

How they shut the front door, how they maneuvered the hallway to her bedroom, how they undressed and (eventually) found the bed was a haze of details that didn’t matter. The shudder that coursed through her at his every touch, mattered. The inverted bridge her back made when his lips and tongue met her center, mattered. His name on a gasp, woven into a sigh, lifted to a shout...

In this area, Tony DiNozzo excelled. He was damn well going to prove it.

. . .

It took two rounds to sate her. The first go was part of the apology; the second was because he had a young, hot lover who could run eight miles at the crack of dawn, kickbox for an hour after work, and still have energetic sex with him—twice. Who wouldn’t take advantage of that?

“Guess I got that booty call after all.” He love-tapped her ass, which was bare to the air. He braced for retaliation.

None came.

Hair mussed and cheeks flushed, Ziva glanced over, fixing him in her line of sight. A smirk hiked up the side of her mouth not buried in the pillow. “As did I, Agent DiNozzo.”

“Never going to live that down, am I?”

“Give it a few months.” Her smirk widened as her eyelids drooped, each blink taking longer and longer to pull back up.

. . .

They dozed together in the dark of her bedroom. They weren’t cuddlers, per se. Their connections left them too sensitive, sticky and unspooled. They stayed close, though. Touching random pieces of her to him, him to her. His head resting on her bicep curled closest to the mattress. Her ankle molded to the arch of his foot. Sometimes as conventional as their hands laid one atop the other, fingers loose.

. . .

He began talking while they ate cereal in the kitchen at quarter to eleven. He was talking as she cleaned and put away their dishes and led him to the front room, his body going where she steered and nudged. What he voiced was nothing new to either of them. All the same issues that overwhelmed him on a cool May night, that propelled him to Ziva’s door in what would become a habit. He was drowning; she was refuge.

For that, and so many other reasons, he trusted her without question.

Ziva allowed him to talk now because that was how he worked out problems. They both knew that, too.

“I think it comes down to the fact that...I don’t know how to be a team leader that isn’t Gibbs.” The admission floated and settled on the sofa cushion between them. It wasn’t often they said his name anymore. The memory was sore to the touch.

“We have been over this, yes?” Ziva tossed a leg across his lap, the other tucked beneath her. He immediately claimed the tanned skin of her thigh, rolling it under his hands. “This is a chance to be your type of leader, make your own rules.”

“Every time I do that, it blows up in my face.”

“Not every time,” she corrected, her eyes darting to his lips and lingering.

His heart rate ticked up. Very true. They might not have happened if Gibbs hadn’t left. But… “We’re one thing, Ziva. The team is another.”

She turned his chin with her hand, locking his gaze with her steady and fervent stare. An imposing combination. “Tony, you either keep trying or you quit, just like Gibbs. What will it be?”

It was Tony’s turn to sneak a not-so-subtle glance at her lips. When she put it like that, the answer was undebatable. What he’d told Jenny wasn’t a lie. And giving up wasn’t an option.

Didn’t mean he’d hand her the win that easily.

“How about we make a deal?” While his eyebrows waggled, his hands roamed farther than her thigh. “I persevere with the team leader thing. In exchange, you show off your fancy cherry stem tying prowess for me.”

Her mouth gaped, eyes narrowing. “Who told you?”

“Palmer. The guy’s actually not a bad sounding board.” He’d have to remember that for future thorny cases.

Ziva deflected, “I do not have any cherries in the fridge.”

Tony returned, “That wouldn’t stop a true parlor trick magician like yourself.”

Her face reformed in an expression that always intrigued him. A cat devising the perfect trap for her prey. It didn’t surprise him when she stretched her leg out, straddling his lap properly. He circled her low back, drawing her hips over him and generating a spark of friction. There was extra verve in her fingers burrowing the short hairs at his nape, tipping his head upwards.

“You must really want me to—”

Ziva covered his lips with hers, swallowing his words as they melted to moans. Instead of continuing hot and heavy, everything slowed. Each kiss long and needy, a continuous caress. Her heady spice invaded his senses. The tip of her tongue slipped by his teeth, running the roof of his mouth before pushing in further.

Tony’s spine straightened at the sensation of tongue against tongue, the rough texture, the strokes and flicks. He gripped whatever part of her was in his reach, would likely leave marks. She didn’t flinch. She was all around him, practically tying him in a knot.

It was exactly how he imagined it, but also superior.

He was smiling when they broke apart, breath imperative for them both. “Your ingenuity is an inspiration, Ms. David.”

Ziva winked, leaning forward to kiss him again, a casual closed-lipped peck in the wake of such an intimate encounter. And he knew, no matter what came of leading the team, he wanted this—them—to survive.

“Now you must honor your part of the deal, Tony.”

“Whatever you say,” he agreed, flipping her onto the cushion and following her down for round three.

. . .

The next day, Tony waited at his car in the parking lot for his team to arrive. He walked into the building with them, and didn’t check the clock in the mornings ever again.

He apologized to McGee, which just freaked out the newly-appointed Senior Field Agent. As Tony predicted, the Nutter Butter made all the difference.

By the end of the week, he brought Special Agent Lee onto the team because there was symmetry in four and they needed a probie to act as a buffer. Plus, she was good at meeting case report deadlines and Tony wasn’t.

He doubled-up on campfires and went to Jenny for advice more often. Palmer, too.

The team went out for drinks, occasionally inviting him to join. Occasionally not.

A month later, he and Ziva started keeping their love in each other’s hearts along with spare clothes in one another’s dressers. Soon, there would be no sense hiding them anymore.

And when someone asked Tony how leading his own team was going, he said, “Our results speak for themselves,” and meant it.

Because when your boss quit and ran off to Mexico, leaving you in charge, you wore the crown and made it your own.

fin

#tiva fanfiction #ncis fanfiction #tat fic #and you don't have to catch up on eight chapters of WIP to read this one!!#tony dinozzo #ziva david

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hopewritcs · 5 years ago

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going with the flo(w).

pairing: jim hopper x reader

word count: 7.7k

summary: flo had worked for hawkins police department for years. so much so that when her niece came back to town to visit the woman who practically raised her alongside her parents, she went first to the police station where her aunt introduces her to the chief of police. except, they’ve most certainly already met--and it did not go well.

notes: set sometime post season 2, pre-season 3. the reader’s not as old as hopper, i’d say she’s probably in her late 20s-early 30s, so there’s an age gap but not too much. definite mentions of a past one night stand. uh i kind of went ??? all in on this fic so i really hope y’all like it because i myself am obsessed with it. includes talk of the outsiders, oh and the reader has an embarrassing family nickname because i felt it was appropriate to have her aunt flo give her a weird nickname ( i did also come up with a story for the reasoning lol )

if you want more of this fic, check out how duckie got her nickname & part two

hop x reader list: @and-drew-101

stranger things tag list: @thekidsofneibolt, @madhatterweasley, @shaykeijser, @rainy-bookish-days (if you wanna be added to any tag list, let me know!!)

Flo had worked for the Hawkins police department for as long as anybody in the town could remember. She was a staple at the police station, having been around the station since her own father was a deputy when she was a child, and then she kept a post college job as the secretary for the station. Most people knew Flo, as she was somewhat of a town staple. Police Chiefs have come and gone in the small town, but Flo had always been there. The woman also never had a family of her own--a fact which she didn’t mind ( her siblings had children and grandchildren of their own whom she looked after as if they were her own--which made the town of Hawkins, in a way, her family.

Everyone would greet Flo warmly when they came into the station, or spoke with her on the phone. She was strict and she had a handful of rules for the cops to follow ( namely stop smoking in my precinct usually directed at Chief Hopper of late ) but she was generally a good and respected person. She treated the officers like they were her children with the same kind of excitement for anything good happening in their lives and the same disapproving Flo stare whenever they did something stupid as she would any of her own relatives.

Which is why it surprised everyone when you showed up at the station that morning. You’d been to a couple of the stations parties over the years, so it wasn’t like you were a complete stranger. But you’d never shown up at the station itself during work hours unless it was to make sure your Aunt Flo had some company for lunch. She always insisted that she shouldn’t be interrupted at work lest something important happen ( even if nine out of ten “important police phone calls” to the Hawkins police department were my cat got stuck in the tree calls ) and she was distracted.

But you’d been away for too long, having moved from Hawkins to go to university, and then finally you’d made the trek to Chicago to work for one of the bigger newspapers after graduate school. So it had been a good couple of years since you’d last seen your Aunt Flo, and you weren’t the kind of person to call beforehand.

Not when the surprise was more than worth it.

You’d managed to sneak into the police station with the help of one of your old high school buddies who knew you were coming to town. He’d even told you when Flo usually took her lunch hour so you could completely surprise her.

Which is how you wound up sitting in her swivel chair behind the front desk of the station, casually glancing between the Hawkins Post on her desk and the glass doors waiting for her to get back. The rest of the station went about their business, not really glancing up to where you sat, but those who did look up at you just smiled and then continued about their work. Just like everyone in the town knew Flo, most of the station knew you too. You were Flo’s favorite niece ( even if she wouldn’t dare say that out loud to anyone because “it’s not a competition, dear” ) and she’d had your graduation pictures tacked up in a place of proper display on her desk that definitely outshone your siblings and cousins.

“Hey Flo can you call Mrs. Wheeler back and tell her there’s nothing I can do about the--you’re not Flo.”

You glanced away from the article you’d been half reading and looked up at the chief of police. You hadn’t been back to town in years, but you knew from talking to Flo on the phone every week that Jim Hopper had been named the chief. But seeing him in person wasn’t something you’d planned for. You silently scolded yourself, you should have known better. But you’d been thinking about Aunt Flo when you made your plans, not Jim. Your throat went dry at the sight of him, the memory almost overtaking you and pulling you back in.

It was back in flashes, even if you didn’t want to think about this right then. It was moments. His lips against your neck. Your back up against the crappy motel wall. Your eyes lulled. The brush of stubble against your cheek. Clothes shed and to be forgotten somewhere on the floor.

The door slamming shut early the next morning.

You could tell he recognized you too, if the glint in his eyes were any indication. But neither of you moved to speak again.

The door to the station opened and you half glanced in the direction of the door as you saw your aunt hanging her jacket up on the coat rack when she caught sight of you and nearly dropped her jacket. “Duckie!” Flo exclaimed, happier than most of the younger and newer officers had ever heard her before, rushing to greet you in a tight hug as she pulled you up from the seat. Whatever moment between you and Jim--Chief Hopper--was broken as you allowed yourself to relax into the hug, squeezing your aunt back as you greeted her.

“What are you doing here, Duckie?” Flo asked, shooing you back and away from her desk as she adjusted her glasses on top of her nose. The manner in which she spoke to you was calmer and kinder, and Hopper watched the interaction because any kind of affection he’d ever gotten from the woman was her sarcastic banter--and he was her boss.

You leaned against her desk and shrugged your shoulders. You may not have liked the nickname she’d given you as a child, due to an embarrassing story involving you and a family of ducks down by the docks at your great grandfather’s lake house you’d rather forget, but you’d long since given up on getting her to stop calling you Duckie. If your Aunt Flo was anything, she was stubborn to a fault.

“Can’t a gal come down to her hometown and visit her favorite aunt for a long weekend?” You asked, shrugging your shoulders.

“It’s Wednesday, darling.”

“Fine, a week away then.” Your aunt fixed you with a stare, almost demanding then and there that you tell her what was going on. But you could stand your ground better than most--you’d gotten your stubbornness from Aunt Flo, or so your parents liked to tell you. “Alrighty then, I’m going to go unpack my bag in your spare room and I’ll see you home in time for dinner and no arguments Florence.” You pointed your finger at her as you gathered your things in your arms, even snagging the copy of the Post that she’d had on her desk and tucking it under your arms. You pressed a kiss to the top of your aunt’s head as you made your way around her desk, waving in the general direction of the rest of the officers before looking at your aunt and the chief. “Have a good day, Jim.” With that you were out the door and headed to your car to go to your aunt’s house.

And your aunt almost forgot that she’d never formally introduced you to Chief Hopper.

It hadn’t taken your aunt long to learn the real reason you were home and staying with her. You had an interview at the Hawkins Post, which was a step down from your current position at the paper in Chicago but your parents deaths not too long ago, and the fact you rarely had time to see your family the past couple of years, it was clear that you wanted a change. You wanted to move back home and be closer to your family.

City life had been exciting. It was intoxicating those first couple of years. You’d been in graduate school and everything had felt so new and you felt like you could conquer the world. And now all you craved was the feeling of home, a feeling which you’d never gotten living in Chicago. Nightly you’d gone back to your small apartment and opened up the bottle of wine you’d kept in the fridge and begged for something more than the daily routine you’d gotten into. For something that felt like it had promise.

And day after day after day nothing changed.

A string of relationships that went nowhere, some casual flings, and one very specific one night stand which you hadn’t mentioned to anyone in your hometown, were the only kinds of connections you’d had while you lived away. Other than that your social circle was small. It included your grad school housemate, who you still spoke to regularly, some friends from undergrad, and a couple of friends from the office.

You craved that feeling of home, so you could deal with the pay cut of working for a smaller paper.

But what you couldn’t deal with was the way the paper’s editor had treated you.

“You’re an editor and a writer?” The man had been shocked. His brows furrowed together as he’d looked at the papers you’d handed him with your portfolio. The bylines you’d written collected from your university’s paper where you’d been a content editor by graduation to your most recent article. All of which were pieces that involved more work than Mr. Holloway had thought of when your application had crossed his desk.

( If you’re wondering, the exact words he’d said to one of his co-workers had been “she’s coming in for an interview and i’m sure it’s all some bullshit about being stuck at home. she’ll be a nice face to deliver us some facts though, better than that lazy intern quentin.” )

“Yes sir.”

“Well the job’s a fact checking position.” he’d said, folding his hands together and leaning on his desk as he studied you. You wanted to flinch under his gaze, since it made you uncomfortable, but you knew that was likely something he expected so you held your composure and elected to silently bite the inside of your cheek as you counted to five.

“That’s not what the posting I got said, Mr. Holloway.” you pulled out the original job advertisement you’d seen and showed him the ripped piece of newspaper, circled with a yellow highlighter was the ad for a new staff writer at the Hawkins Post starting date immediately.

He took the paper from you and dismissively dropped it down on the desk in front of him. “Position’s changed, darlin’.”

Biting your tongue back from snarking at the man, lest you look unprofessional in a workplace, you stood up from the chair and smoothed out your skirt as you yanked the portfolio you’d handed him earlier off his desk. “Then I’m no longer interested. Have a wonderful day, Mr. Holloway.”

What you really wanted to say was eat shit and flip him off as you left the paper’s office. It didn’t stop you from mumbling to yourself a couple of choice profanities as you unlocked the door to your car and drove off to the police station. You’d promised Aunt Flo you’d come to visit for lunch after your interview, which you’d been optimistic about before you’d actually gone in there.

“What a misogynistic pig! Bullheaded asshole!” You couldn’t help the exclamation as you opened the door to the police station, dropping yourself into one of the chairs next to your aunts desk.

“Excuse me?” commented one of the officers, who had been handing Flo paperwork when you walked in. You waved him off and he dropped the rest of his work with a quick smile in your direction before he went back into the back room. He seemed to know when to mind his own business, but he did glance back in the direction of you and your aunt as he went back to work.

“What happened Duckie?” your aunt turned her chair to look at you, taking your hands in hers as she looked at you.

“The editor at the Post didn’t give me the time of day. He didn’t believe my credentials and told me the position was for a fact checker.” You hated the fact that your eyes were hot as you said this. Hated that some imbecile editor’s close minded bullshit still got to you after what you’d worked hard for. More importantly you hated that the shock and disbelief in his voice got to you and made you think that maybe you shouldn’t have this job. “And I already signed on that house we saw the other day, what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“We’ll figure something out.” Flo offered you a smile and then went back to the work she’d been handed before you walked in. You were early for lunch, as you’d expected the meeting would have gone on much longer than the fifteen minutes it had gone. “Oh, Chief!” Your head turned when you noticed the man walking in with a younger teenager trailing behind him. “Do you have any ideas for a job for my niece? Y/N’s got an undergrad degree in journalism and literature and a masters in journalism. My Duckie’s real smart, and good with people.”

Hopper’s attention had been on figuring out how to get El to Joyce’s house when he needed to work the night shift and had been out on calls all day about what he could only call bullshit idiocy of the town, so when he heard Flo calling for him he’d stopped mid step and really thought she was going to scold him for having a lit cigarette in “her offices”.

Which, though she didn’t say it verbally her glare was scolding him more than enough that he made a show of coughing as he put the cigarette out in the ashtray on the older woman’s desk.

You had swatted your hand in your aunt’s direction while she’d been talking about your credentials, a flush of heat covering your face as you shook your head. “Aunt Flo, don’t bother him with that. He’s got more important things to deal with.”

Hopper didn’t miss the twinge of bitter that was laced in your words and he winced slightly. Really screwed the pooch on that one, Hop, he scolded himself. “Did you try the Post?”

You scoffed, pushing your hair out of your face as you looked him head on. It didn’t escape you that this was the first conversation you’d actually had with him other than some gruff and mumbled hello’s on both your parts when visiting your aunt at work these past couple of days. “First place I tried. They posted looking for a staff writer but I show up and the editor tells me they’re looking for a fact checker and not a writer.”

He can tell by your tone that you’re holding back on the anger, and if this were one of those cartoons he’d watched with El on television he was sure your ears would be pouring steam by now. He’s genuinely struck in the moment and he doesn’t know what to say. He’s debating between telling you that Tim Holloway has always been a real piece of work and he can shove it, or telling you he’ll help you find a job--which he’s sure you wouldn’t accept--when El stepped in front of him and speaks instead.

“Mike says the school paper needs help.”

Maybe it’s the fact that you’d almost forgotten about her, since she was standing in Jim’s shadow, or the fact that her voice was quiet that drew your full attention to her. Your features soften, your shoulders deflating and relaxing from the hunched position they’d been in when you’d been speaking earlier.

“I don’t think I can help a school paper well, but thank you for the suggestion.” Your grin is genuine as you look at her. “Does your friend,” she cut you off and told you his name Mike again and you quickly corrected your comment, “does Mike work on the paper?”

She shook her head, the short brown curls shaking as she did. “Dustin and Will do. Mike’s sister Nancy told him the high school paper’s worse.” The names are thrown at you and you’re trying to put it all together into the story she’s told you, connecting anyone. Clearly they’re all friends, but the only big connection you have is Mike and Nancy are siblings, and ( damn your journalistic curiosity ) you’re interested to learn more. But you don’t get the chance to ask her anything when her attention’s already turned back to Jim at her side. “Are we leaving soon? Will said one thirty and it’s one fifteen.” She’s annunciating the numbers in a way that leaves you still curious.

Hopper ran a hand over his face as he let out a sigh, nodding his head. In the short minute or two his daughter spoke to you, he’d been focused on that and certainly not on the time passing. Shit.

And he’s about to turn and lead El out the door when the phone rings and Flo answers with a flourish. Before he can even move an inch, Flo’s handing the phone off to Hopper claiming it’s the mayor and something about the construction site and it can’t wait. He sighed and opened his mouth to speak, “I gotta take the kid to the Byers place.”

“Duckie can take El, Jim. I can’t deal with this construction business any longer Chief. The mayor insisted on this mall going up and it’s nearly open and there’s always something wrong.” Flo explained, holding the receiver in her hands as she looked at the chief, daring him to argue with her.

Hopper sighed and looked over at where you sat stubbornly looking you over and then turning back to El to see if she had anything to say about it. But she just impatiently tapped the face of the watch on his arm and he gives in. “Do you mind, Y/N?”

You stood up and gathered your things in your hand and shook your head, “Not a bit, promise.” Your voice is much softer than before, and you’re smiling and he’s struck by the fact that you’re smiling at him, until he realizes your gaze was actually on the brunette by his side who’s almost smiling back at you.

Reluctantly, he finally answers the phone with a gruff, “What can I do ya for Mayor Kline?”

“The Byers’ place is at the end of the road to the left of where the house you’ve got it, Duckie.” Flo informed you with a warm smile aimed both at you and the younger girl at Hopper’s side. She’s definitely closer to the Aunt Flo you know than the Secretary Flo the police officers know when dealing with El too. Your aunt must catch the hesitation in your movement so she decided to speak up again, “We can do an early dinner, don’t worry.” And she dismisses you with a wave.

The younger girl waits for a similar nudge from Hopper before she followed you to the door.

She’s not much of a conversationalist in the car, but she does focus on the radio and adjust the channel it’s tuned to ( after getting a go ahead from you ) and she’s hummed along to the song that played for the couple of minutes it took you to reach the house she pointed out from the beginning of the street.

A knock on your window startled you and you’re greeted with a black haired boy looking between you and the girl in your passengers seat. After you turned the engine off, you got out of the car and looked at him. “Who are you?” he asked a defensive and protective eyebrow raised.

“Relax kid, I’m just dropping her off.”

“Who are you?” Mike doesn’t budge from the question he asked you originally and he pushed his attitude and attempted to stand taller as he faced you.

You put your hands up and spoke, “I’m Y/N. My Aunt Flo works down at the station. Lived here my whole life and now I moved back to town. Satisfied, kid?”

“Mike.” El appeared next to you, her voice is somewhere between a kind greeting and a soft scolding as she looked between the pair of you. She didn’t like the questioning he’d given you because, even if she didn’t know you well enough, she could tell that Hopper wouldn’t just send her off with someone he didn’t trust.

“Sorry El.” he said, turning to her with a smile before looking back at you. “And, uh, sorry to you too.”

“No sweat, Mike.” you shrug it off with a smile in his direction. Then you turned your attention back to El. “Are you all good?” And she nodded as a response. “Okay, cool. If your, uh...if your dad is stuck at the station later I can come back and give you a ride.”

She smiled softly at you, waving her hand as Mike pulled her towards the front door.

“Bye Duckie!”

And you groaned.

You had a feeling that even if you didn’t want it to, that the nickname was going to become a thing amongst El and her friends who you waved to as they stared at you from the window in the living room.

It’s a week or so into June when you’re getting your house settled. Thankfully, the small house wasn’t much of a fixer upper, there were just a few paint changes and a couple of loose door hinges that you told your Aunt you would fix once you had a job and weren’t worried about finding something. You had two interviews coming up. One was for a fact checker and writer for the local Hawkins news station. The other was an elective teacher’s position at Hawkins Middle and High school where your responsibilities would be headlining both papers and co-heading the yearbook staff with the arts teacher as well as teaching a journalism class.

You were definitely hoping that you could get the job at the school. You’d thanked El for the suggestion of the school newspaper with a copy of a book you’d loved at her age. You didn’t know if it was a great gift, but she seemed to appreciate the gesture.

It was the second Sunday in June and you had gotten back to Hawkins late the night before with all of your things either in your car or in the rental van that your cousin had driven back to town for you. You had shrugged off the notion of help from your family to get things into the house, except for Aunt Flo who had shown up bright and early with a thermos of coffee and a couple of doughnuts from the shop in town.

It was almost afternoon and most of the boxes were inside your house. You had been lugging them up and down the stairs in the small house while Aunt Flo worked on organizing the bottom floor. Her reasoning had been that, “You’re going to need a glass of water in the middle of the night, Duckie, and you won’t want to dig through boxes at some ungodly hour.” She’d even tsked at you for veering her off course and attempting to get her attention elsewhere.

On the bright side, your kitchen was nearly unpacked now.

The downside was that the rest of what was in your rental van ( which was due back that evening ) was the actual furniture for your house including; a couple of chairs for the table ( which was also in there ), a couch, your old desk and chair set you’d had since you were a teen, a comfortable chair and ottoman you’d inherited from your parents, along with a grandfather clock, some large pictures for the walls, and your mattress. If anything you definitely wanted the mattress inside tonight. You’d slept on the floor in your new bedroom the night before and you did not want to have to do that again.

“Duckie!”

You turned your head, putting your hand up to shield your eyes from the mid morning sun and looked across the street to the group of kids on their bikes ( and one on her skateboard ) who had called to you. With the time you’d spent with them ( very little, but you’d bumped into them a couple of times ) apparently the nickname had stuck.

“What are you doing?” Mike asked, leading the group as they made their way across the street to where you stood.

“Moving in.” you replied, gesturing to the house behind you. Then you paused and shrugged your shoulders, “Do you guys wanna help me out? There’s some stuff myself and Aunt Flo can’t get out of here. I’ll make everyone dinner.”

Lucas hopped up onto the rental van’s back and looked around what you had left to move in and then turned back to look at the group. “We’re gonna need reinforcements.”

Forty minutes later you were in the middle of holding the door open as Joyce and Jonathan walked past you with one half of your couch, followed by Will and Dustin on the other side. You’d officially met Joyce the week prior on one of your trips to Melvald’s General Store when you went around getting some lightbulbs for your house and had befriended her.

Steve, Nancy, and Lucas were on the grass trying to figure out how they could get the table broken down and put back together so that they could get it inside. After one too many rough tugs on the table’s legs you’d had to jump in.

“Maybe get everything else in first?” Your voice had been filled with just a twinge of panic.

Aunt Flo brushed past Max, who was carrying a chair inside the house, with an excuse me and she walked over to you. “Duckie, darling, I’m going to the store to get the things to make dinner. Your kitchen and the study are all unpacked. I shouldn’t take longer than half an hour or so.” She kissed your cheek and smiled.

“You have the list of ingredients?” You called to her as she made her way to her car.

“Don’t need them, Duckie. It’s my recipe!” And with that Flo honked her horn and drove off down the road.

You’d grabbed the older teens to help you with your mattress, and used El as your eyes to make sure none of you carrying it knocked into anything you’d already put up on the walls.

Once you’d gotten the mattress down onto the box spring you flung yourself onto it and sighed, “This is gonna be so much more comfortable than the floor was.” You said it to no one in particular, but you had an audience of teens ( and Joyce ) who had also made their way up the stairs.

“Why did you sleep on the floor?” El asked quietly, looking at you as you jumped from the sound of her voice.

“I officially moved in last night, but didn’t move the furniture in until today.” You explained with a shrug of your shoulders and then clapped your hands, jumping up to your feet. “Alright, who’s gonna help me with the desk.”

“Does that need to go upstairs too?” you heard someone complain from behind you.

“It’s not like there’s another room downstairs, unless you think a combo bathroom study would be a good idea.” You replied back, jumping off the bottom step.

“Who needs all this stuff?” Dustin asked, waving his arms around as he walked into the living room.

“You’d be surprised.” you chuckled and then made your way back outside and hopped up onto the rental van. “Alright, I need a set of hands to help me push this desk down the ramp.”

Jonathan and Steve jumped up beside you and had them go to the back of the desk since you didn’t particularly trust either of them to walk backwards down the ramp and hold onto the desk and not get hurt.

“I got a call from Flo down at the station telling me to get down here ASAP.”

The sound of his voice made you jump and you lost your footing as you toppled down the van’s ramp with a thud to the driveway. Thankfully the two boys had a good hold on the desk.

“Hop! Thank God. Can you move this desk up the stairs? Oh, and get the table inside? Nancy and I can’t figure that one out.” Steve was practically jumping with joy since he was ready to get out of here and head home and away from the prospect of manual labor ( even if he was promised a good meal and desert too ).

Joyce offered you her hand and you stood up, brushing yourself off and smiling when she asked if you’re alright. Before anyone else can comment, Flo’s car pulled back up on the street and she’s commandeered everyone with free hands to help her bring groceries. You’d have yelled at her for buying more than just the list ( she’d come back with enough to make sure you had food for yourself in the coming days ) but you were a little bit focused on the desk.

As soon as Hopper got into the van, Jonathan and Steve jumped down and ran to the car in a flash. The kids were getting the grocery bags from the car and your aunt was telling you that she’d get it all settled and not to worry. And that left you, Joyce, and Jim to work on the desk in front of you.

You and Jim managed to grab either side of the desk and, with Joyce’s help, you two maneuvered across your lawn and up the stairs. Then she went back down to grab the desk chair, leaving you alone with Hopper and a ton of awkward energy in the air.

He scratched at his stubble and spoke before you could, “All Flo said was where she was and that they could use a hand. I didn’t know it was your house.” And you could tell he felt awkward saying it, but it did ease the tension in the air between you.

This was the first time you’d been in a room alone with him. A thought which you pushed away as quickly as you’d thought of it.

“I’m glad she did.” you replied, looking up at him as you opened up one of the boxes for your desk things and began sorting what you could even if it was only to keep your hands busy. You could hear excited chatter downstairs in the kitchen and it made your smile brighten. “I don’t think I would have gotten the desk upstairs without you, actually.” you admitted reluctantly, turning to look at him once again. “Thanks, Jim.”

“Anytime, Y/N.”

What you didn’t know was that Joyce ( who had heard the entire story of the fucked up one night stand first hand from Jim once you’d arrived back in town ) had been standing by the doorway as you continued chatting with Jim about his work and your upcoming interviews. The more you chatted with him, the less awkward it felt. In fact, it was feeling comfortable.

And Joyce left the chair down in your hallway before going downstairs to help with everything else, leaving you two to talk.

Maybe something good would come of it.

By the end of June you’d worked out a routine. You’d begun helping get El ready for school in the fall, since both she and Hopper ( on separate occasions ) confided in you their nervous feelings about her going to school in the fall.

El was worried because she wasn’t sure what it would be like to be around so many people, and she was worried she wouldn’t do well in her classes.

Hopper was worried because he didn’t want to leave her alone too long, and because he worried she wasn’t prepared for the work load of school.

So, on the day you’d gotten the good news--you’d gotten the job at the school--you’d gone immediately to the police station and greeted your aunt with the news. In your excitement you may have also squealed about getting the job and hugged Hopper tightly when he came out to see what the noise was all about. Which was when you’d suggested, out of breath and still reeling from the excitement, that you could help El get ready for the school year.

Every other day, and on the days that Hopper worked the later shift at the station, you would pick El up from whoever’s house she’d been hanging out at ( or even at the Hopper cabin ) and you took her to the local library to show her a couple of things.

On this night in particular you’d been watching El since Jim was working late at the station and you and she had curled up on the couch, a book in both of your hands as you both read aloud from The Outsiders. You were supposed to be taking turns reading from the book, but you let it slide as she was looking up at you as you read and she was genuinely interested in what was happening.

Neither of you heard the door unlocking as you continued to read, and you didn’t notice the fact that you and El curled up on the couch made Jim Hopper stop mid step into his house. His hand dropped from the door knob as he looked at you and his daughter sitting together, listening to your voice as you read aloud about Ponyboy and Two-Bit visiting Dally and Johnny in the hospital. It took him a moment to collect himself and he shook his head to clear his thoughts and walk into the house.

He didn’t want to disturb the pair of you, but the door shutting behind him had echoed in the otherwise silent house and both of your heads turned to look at him. He looked embarrassed for a moment before shaking it off and putting his hat and coat on the kitchen table.

“Hey Jim.” You greeted him with a smile. You were definitely friends at this point, one night stand a distant memory in both of your minds. Save for a couple of flashes of memory triggered every so often.

“Y/N. El. Are you ready for bed?” He was moving around the kitchen, popping open a bottle of beer after his long night on the job and then he took a seat on the chair by the couch.

“No.” the girl replied quietly from your side, turning on the couch to look at Hopper.

“Why not?”

“We’ve got,” she turned back around and thumbed through the pages and then turned back to Hopper, “fifty pages left. Please?”

“It’s late.” Hop huffed, but he knew he was likely to give in to the two women sitting on the couch.

“Oh, is it?” You turned to look at the clock on the wall and noted that it was definitely past ten at night and you hadn’t even noticed how quickly the time had flown by. “I can leave if you want.” You commented as you gently moved to stand up from the couch.

But El took your arm in her hand and spoke again. “Stay.” Then she turned back to Hopper and looked at him, “Please? Fifty pages!”

You were stuck halfway between sitting back down and standing tall as you waited for an answer and finally Hopper nodded, so you sat back down next to a grinning El, who went back to her position on the couch with her head on your shoulder as you continued reading.

And Hopper sat there, gulping down his beer slowly, listening to you read the story to his kid and he was struck by the feeling in his chest. The voice in the back of his mind that said, I could get used to this.

You finished the novel and El was quick to get up and get ready to bed because she could tell that Hopper was going to tell her to do just that. And you started gathering your things to head back home for the night.

You were taken aback by a hug at your side as you put the last of the books into your bag and you looked down at the girl at your side shocked before you relaxed and squeezed her back. “Thanks Duckie.”

And you admitted to yourself that you didn’t hate the nickname when it came from her.

“No problem, sweetheart.” you said, smoothing out her hair when she pulled back from you and then actually ran back off to her bedroom to get ready for bed. “Goodnight El!” You called through the closed door as you pulled your jacket on and made your way to the door with your car keys in one hand and your bag in the other. “Night Jim.”

You’d barely stepped out of the door when you heard Hopper calling that he was going to walk you to your car and that El should be in bed when he comes back to check on her.

“You don’t have to walk me to my car, I know the boogeyman isn’t real.” You snorted a laugh as you walked down his front steps and turned back to look at him. You didn’t catch the look that crossed his face--the one that silently disagreed with you.

The pair of you were already at your car and Jim still hadn’t said anything, so you opened your car door and watched him, but he still didn’t say anything. So you put your hand on his arm and he looked down at the contact before he looked back up at you. “Is there something on your mind, Jim?”

“Thank you, Y/N. For doing all of this for El.” He stumbled on his words before finally settling on what to say. Your grin, the shake of your head as he insists for what feels like the hundredth time in the two weeks you’d been helping El get ready for school, spoke volumes. Usually you insisted you were happy to do it, because you were. “It means a lot, and it’s a big deal to me.”

You moved to be on the opposite side of the car door, to stand next to him and you smiled kindly at him and it felt like the first time you were really seeing him. Because he was vulnerable, letting you into his world with El after everything that had been going on in the town the past couple of years, and he was a long way from the idiot who’d left you that night.

Both of you could admit that.

“I’m really happy to help, you don’t have to keep thanking me.” Your voice was filled with a soft laugh as you spoke and looked at him. “I’ll pick her up in the morning and take her to my place. I’ve got this really good history book that should help us out.” You’re nodded absentmindedly as you’re planning what you’re going to work on the next day with El and you don’t notice the way Hopper’s gaze has lazily ( or purposefully ) fallen to your lips as you spoke. When you turn your head to look at him once more, he almost thought you caught him and he’s glad there’s not a light out by the cars because he’s sure he’s blushing ( and he hates that ). "I’ll see you in the morning, Jim. Goodnight.”

Before you know better, you’re stand up on your toes to give him a kiss on the cheek, and his arm’s wrapped itself around your middle and he held you close. You definitely lingered against his stubble covered cheek before pulling away, and he wanted to pull you back to him. To really kiss you.

But he didn’t.

Instead you got in your car and stuck your hand out the window to wave goodbye once more as you drive off into the night and he went back inside to make sure El’s off to bed alright.

It’s the end of June, and a couple of days after you kissed Jim’s cheek you haven’t stopped thinking about it. You were driving El over to Dustin’s house to meet the other kids so they could surprise Dustin, who was getting back from science camp.

“Are you and Hop boyfriend and girlfriend?” El asked as she turned down the radio and looked at you from the passenger’s seat.

“What?” You gasped, looking over at her as you stopped at a stop sign. “What makes you ask that, El?”

“Well, I’ve seen the way he looks at you and you look at him, like Jonathan and Nancy. When you’re not looking at each other.” El was thinking about a lot of instances in her head as she spoke, so she paused frequently as she tried to get them all together. “You’re always over, and you make us dinner sometimes. Oh, and he likes to talk about you.”

You’d completely stopped at the stop sign, thankful that no one was on the road behind you. You listened to El explaining all of her theory to you, and you wondered what she was going to say next. A part of you was worried that maybe she’d picked up on whatever was between you and Jim, worried that she was worried about you dating her dad.

“It wouldn’t be bad if you were.” she spoke quieter when she continued again, and you’ve turned completely to look at her in the eyes. “I’d like that.” El nodded at you with a smile, and then she turned forward, ending the conversation when you were still processing.

But you moved the car forward and dropped her off at the Henderson house, waving to the other three kids who were waiting on the lawn for El before driving off.

Whatever got in your head, you drove right to the police station and walked in and ignored your aunt at her desk. Flo had been on the phone when you walked in, otherwise she would have called you out on the fact that you hadn’t greeted her.

You simply brushed past everyone and made your way to Hopper’s office, knocking on the open door to announce your presence.

“Y/N.” He greeted kindly, waving you inside the office as he looked back down at the papers on his desk, the lit cigarette falling from his lips as he did this ( if only because he knows from experience you’ll snitch to your aunt that he was smoking in his office again ). He looked back up at you with furrowed brows, a worried look on his face. “Is everything okay? Is El?”

He’d already gotten up from his seat and pushed it back with a force by the time you put your hands up and stopped him. “Everything’s fine, Jim.” You said softly, gesturing for him to sit back down. “Can I?” You’d half turned to the door behind you and motioned to close it, which he nodded his head at.

The room is silent as you took a seat in the chair across from his desk and looked at him. You put your head in your hands and sighed deeply and Hopper really wanted to ask you what was going on, because even though you assured him everything was fine it didn’t feel fine.

“I had a conversation with El in the car just now.” You began slowly, your nose crinkling as you spoke and leaned back in your chair. Unable to get comfortable, you hopped up and stood back up and walked around the room for a moment. Hopper’s eyes hadn’t left you, but he is concerned at your lack of communication. He’s opened his mouth to ask you to continue a few times but he hadn’t said anything, and then you finally continued, “She asked if we were boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Oh.”

“She said there’s a way we look at each other and we’re around each other a lot and then she dropped that she’d like that to be true. And I’m sitting at a fucking stop sign with your daughter in the passenger’s seat telling me it’s okay for me like the guy that I like because, well, she’d be okay with it. And I’m freaking out just because she’s telling me this while I’m driving her around and it shocked the hell out of me. And the next thing you know I drove here and I’m telling you this and I can’t breathe.” You’ve said it all in one breath, pacing around his small office, in a soft voice so that no one could overhear you.

Jim was glad he’d put out the cigarette because his mouth fell open, “You like me?” He stuttered out, clearing his throat as he stood up to grab your arms and keep you from your continued pacing in his office.

“You’re shitting me, that’s what you got from that?”

He barked out a laugh at your out of breath comment, but you’d stopped pacing and you were standing in front of him as he leaned back against his desk. His hands found yours and they laid intertwined between the pair of you.

Taking in a deep breath you looked at him and nodded your head, “Yes. I do like you, Jim.”

“Well good, because I happen to like you too, Y/N.”

He was halfway leaning in to give you a kiss when you pulled back. He was surprised and raised his eyebrows at you.

“If you think you’re gonna leave me like the last time, Hopper.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And he kissed you.

And the next time you two slept together, he didn’t even think twice before pulling you closer to him and falling asleep with you in his arms.

#jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #going with the flo(w)

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ryouverua · 6 years ago

Text

Trial 6 - Oh, I am one yet many (5)

The above inspirational picture was taken seconds before disaster.

Trial: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Tsumugi is not the one-trick pony we thought she was ABORT MISSION, ABORT MISSION!!!!

NO YOU AIN’T! NO YOU AIN’T I DID NOT SIGN UP TO BE HAJIMEMED, NO SIR I DID NOT!

i mentioned it during the text hellstorm I unleashed when I was mid-playthrough but the way Shuichi says ‘cosplaying’ here is ADORABLE. I love his VA she is so good -

also

oh no

o h n o

I can’t just... express how deeply that feeling of ‘oh no’ pervaded my being. My soul.

“THIS IS JUST COSPLAY“ SHE SAYS - AND GOD, THE MUSIC, THE MUSIC IS SO WACKY LIKE THESE ARE JUST SOME NORMAL FTE ANTICS -

wait no this is the ‘let’s start the killing game music’ -

ah that’s why I’m lowkey terrified right now

W-What in the world are those white smears across Hagakure’s eyes??? And oh god the first game too???

WHAT THE HELL TSUMUGI YOU’VE REALLY BEEN HOLDING OUT ON US TELL ME HOW YOU’RE DOING THIS I-I mean oh no, how dare you, this is so awful...

SHE’S TAKEN FULL OWNERSHIP OF JUNKO!PERSONA

AJSLKDF

TSUMUGI

HOLY SHIT

TSUMUGI

IS THIS YOUR FINAL FORM

ironically this got me thinking ‘this would be a really cool cosplay + prop’ once I got over the sheer terror of the situation and I starting thinking, oh, wouldn’t it be cool if you even had a sort of pinwheel mechanism (with the main body of it being hidden by her long hair) that rotated all of these pieces, and have you ever realized that there is a small piece of you that is the monster

also I just realized... she kept putting her glasses on as Junko. But I’m assuming she won’t ever wear them as Hajime. So it’s true - the moment she actually took off her glasses, we really did get to see her final form..

IS THAT KOMAEDA’S HAIR

ALL OF THESE THINGS, I RECOGNIZE ALL OF THEM OMG

This............ this is terrible, terrifying, and also really, really good

don’t say you’re jealous don’t say you’re jealous don’t say you’re jealous okay I’m a bit jealous FFU --

SHUICHI I THINK THIS IS ONE OF THE TIMES WHERE YOU DON’T WANT TO PURSUE THE TRUTH I HAVE A TERRIBLE, AWFUL FEELING -

oh no oh no

here I was doing mental gymnastics to justify why she’d be able to cosplay as Junko, a real person

but I was over-complicating things as usual

even the egg has been compromised for her nefarious scheme this truly is the worst timeline

What is with me and stumbling into series that just bloody smash their fourth wall until there’s nothing but broken pieces left

thank you for having twogami right after togami it’s not something I realized I needed and among all this heartbreak is a blessing

THIS IS NOT YOUR CUE TO START PLAYING THE CREDITS MONOKUMA

I am only making it through this trial by sheer force of will and the power of Sweetcheeks’ adorable voice.

Dangan.... ronpa....?

oh god she said ‘we’ she said ‘WE’ THIS IS REALLY NOT GOOD

‘Don’t get too whacky with your theories,’ I said. ‘You don’t want to sound like a total crackpot,’ I said. DAMN YOU SELF I SHOULD HAVE LET MYSELF GO ABSOLUTELY WILD AFTER ALL

So this was invented completely from nothing??? My initial theory had them seeing themselves in someone else’s actual memories as themselves, and having their own brains play tricks on them that way - but all those scenes with them being interviewed by Makoto, of applying to Hope’s Peak, and possibly everything else about them - oh god - how powerful are these lights? How much detail was crammed into them? Can this all be done with a mere flash of a light???

‘We.’ Her use of ‘we’ is interesting, here. It really does feel like Tsumugi sees all of her cosplay personas as actual people that she can channel to ‘help her’ as opposed to just mere characters. Like entities fighting along side of her, not just through her...

also hello ibuki I forgot how much I enjoyed your VA they make me hear seagulls in the distance

aaaaaaw look at how much the art style has improved from the first game!!!

Y.......... YES.......?????? wait actually as someone who is lowkey interested in props and set design - BUT NO WAIT STILL THIS IS WAY BEYOND THAT -

How... the hell... do you cosplay the world?! The entire world?!?!

Is that possible?? If the entire world isn’t real - if it’s all being propped up by you - then -

Who - who are we playing this game for then??? Why make us play it??? Who is watching the game???

I KNEW IT

I AND PROBABLY HALF OF THE PEOPLE PLAYING WERE JUST WAITING FOR YOU TO SHOW UP

......

Did. Did you just say it takes place in the real world.

Oh no -

It... It’s real fiction... because they’ve kidnapped actual people... and brainwashed them... and then trapped them in a situation where they were forced to kill each other to get out?? For things that didn’t exist??? For reasons that weren’t ever real???

Wait - so that means they can get out and it’ll be fine?! That’s..... t-that’s not as bad as I thought, but...

‘STAFF’ OH THAT WORD IS SO OUT OF PLACE -

...............................

There are. There are people backstage. It’s not just Tsumugi. This. This is super not good.

insert inappropriately-timed comment about how I love this VA

Okay. This actually took me by surprise. And I’m kinda terrified to ask.

W.... Why not? Is - Is this actually a space separated from reality? Can they physically.... not go back....???

no wait -

what are you doing

PUT THAT KEY BACK RIGHT NOW

OH UNCANNY VALLEY-LEVELS OF COGNITIVE DISSONANCE

NO DON’T THROW REAL FACES UP THERE -

IS THIS A BLOODY COMMENT BOARD

I mean I know in my head that this is a niconico parody but the fact is they have to translate the comments to suit an english audience so -

omfg no I cannot believe what is coming out of the screen right now

wait wait

Kyoko is my waifu

My husbando Shuichi

first

Sakura is my muscle waifu good taste anon

Bring on the spoilers

LOL are you watching?

I feel like I’m participating too!

she’s shaking

Aaaw, Himiko is still alive.

Wow it’s on? LOL!

this is what the creepy kid at the beginning of the chapter was about

this was who that Makoto kid was

WHERE IS HIS CREEPY-ASS FACE I KNOW YOU’RE THERE MAKOTO

Is this the everyone... the real everyone Tsumugi says she represents, then??? That she’s fighting for? Omg was Kirumi’s motive/trial foreshadowing all along -

Anyway, damn Tsumugi is proud of her viewership.

#humblebrag #musclewaifu

EVERYONE???? LITERALLY EVERYONE?!?!?!

SURELY... SURELY THAT IS THE CONCEITED TALK OF A MANAGER TRYING TO TALK UP THEIR ‘BABY’.... SURELY...

I appreciate the use of Celes here. This is.... damn dark. They’ve achieved such a peaceful world that the have to manufacture darkness and blood-sport for people to get their kicks???

STIMULATION?!

first of all where’s miu when you need her

SECOND OF ALL ARE YOU SURE HUMANITY WAS BEAUTIFUL, KOREKIYO??? ARE YOU SURE?

“It’s simple economics.”

THERE YOU ARE MAKOTO YOU CREEP

oh no he was... literally... using this game to cope with his problems.... and he said that one day he wanted to be a part of it... oh no.....

..... D... Did one of the comments say that it had been years? That they had been waiting for a few years for the sequel?

Does - does that mean something, or is it just a throwaway audience comment? Why years? If Rantaro was in the last one, why would it have been years for this one to happen??? How old is Rantaro? How old is Tsumugi?!?!

FML I had been wondering how ‘Monokuma’ could exist without Junko existing since they’re inextricably linked. FML.

MONOKUMA CAN YOU STOP ROLLING THE CREDITS, THE MUSIC AND THE TITLE CARDS FOR A MINUTE PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU

Because I don’t enjoy having Saioinji’s terrifying eyes trained on me while she questions my intelligence, so I’ll sum up the next question - what season of this gameshow from hell are we apparently on?

I mean, considering Junko’s title... well...

..... yeah it looks better with a V.

the real answer to why they used V3 even though it’s technically not the correct way to say ‘53′ - it’s the aesthetic.

FFFF

I actually screenshot all the parody!title cards and they’re amazing. I’ll post them just once a bit later when it shows up again because this post is entirely too long, but needless to say, whoever designed them had fun. And the titles of the games, too - Birth of Despair? Dream Danganronpa? Sign me tf up! oh no does this make me part of the problem I’M SORRY SWEETCHEEKS

I can’t believe I was bitching about Junko being the mastermind for the third game when apparently audience members have had to sit through 53 Junkos

You couldn’t have changed it up??? Not even once??? Like, one led by Mukuro as a prologue idea or??? quietly denies the existence of the anime

Oh, speaking of which, I do like the excuse they came up with as to why the drv3 creators didn’t create new characters from the supposed other games why Tsumugi didn’t cosplay anyone outside the first two games - it’s for the class’s benefit, since they only knew those two casts, and y’know. She cares. about shock value

DON’T YOU PASS THE BUCK, GIRL

Ah, so that ‘staff’ you mentioned earlier...

why is this so funny to me

T-Tsumugi, do you have a tumultuous relationship with your managers or something

why are you airing out your dirty laundry on live television

is it all the incest plotlines

I feel like at this point it’s less ‘Tsumugi is trying to rub into the students how completely and absolutely they are boned’ and more ‘okay, it’s time to give a shout-out to everyone who put this production together! Perfect time to slap on that logo, guys!‘

oh my god that was supposed to be a trailer in-meta too alsd;kfj i’m losing it

AND AGAIN, THOSE TITLE CARDS - THEY ARE AMAZING.

SHE IS SHE’S TOTALLY ADVERTISING MID-SHOW

TSUMUGI STOP BEING A CORPORATE SELL-OUT

"NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR YOUR CRAPPY SHOEHORNED ADVERTISING!!!”

oh god oh no

who’s going to tell him -

MONOKUMA DON’T YOU DARE

i’m having an existential crisis alongside sweetcheeks ngl

there are so many layers

....

we need to go deeper

So, just to clarify, there are three layers right now:

There’s us, the players. In a sense, we could be considered ‘equal but different than the tier’, but we do still operate on a plane separate from the metafiction of Tsumugi’s ‘everyone in the world’.

There’s the ‘audience’, the outside world. This is the space that’s been breached at this point. And this... this is the level where the students are from, too - aka the reason I think we and the audience should exist as separate entities.

And there’s the domain of the Killing Game, a space created to play out this story, using real people - a place separated from reality... how? If Tsumugi is talking about a set, it could easily be the real world, which means they’ve been isolated somewhere. At the same time though, when they managed to reach the end of the escape tunnel and saw the outside world, they all started to choke and suffocate. So... could this be VR still? Or no? Can these existences known as Shuichi Saihara, the Ultimate Detective, Maki Harukawa, the Ultimate Assassin, Himiko Yumeno, the Ultimate Robot, K1-b0, the Ultimate Robot, and even Tsumugi Shirogane, the Ultimate Cosplayer, leave this space in any way, shape or form... or not at all? Is them suffocating ^ like that a sign that they literally cannot exist outside of this space?

She is literally throwing the same question back in Shuichi’s face ghdfkgh

NO I’M ON SHUICHI’S SIDE I COULDN’T HELP IT I HAD TO CHOOSE REAL PEOPLE

no!!! no!!!! NO!!!!

no seriously I still chose real people because I am stubborn

sweetcheeks et al. do not deserve any of this

Of course they brought out despair!Mikan for this. Of course.

I have to say, I do like these little character touches - the decisions that have been made as to which ‘cosplay’ says what. I mean, it’s supposed to also act as a way to throw our known and loved favourites in our face too, but having Celes comment on how boring ‘peace’ is? Having Ibuki smashing through the fourth wall to speak directly to the audience, Gundham remarking on their abnormal existence and Leon commenting on how cool the ‘aesthetic’ of the title card is? It’s such a nice touch. also horrifying. butalsonice

Oh we really are addressing the prologue now??? And - I’m assuming Tsumugi is referring to Hajime when she says ‘me’, but is there a chance she isn’t?

Just as I initially suspected, though - they really were normal when they got in. So how did they decide who got what personality/talent, or was that random? I mean, that might be the case - it was potentially hinted by the motive video switch of Chapter 2..

............. Huh.

But..... in what sense? Like the 16 talents were stored in those lights and they were ‘picked up’ by the most suited participant? How could you make sure there were no doubles? Or - and this is possible because of the vague language - did the talents build on what the student knew already? In which case, how would they know what the talents would end up being and plan the labs around them?

No, it would... have to be... the first one. Talents had its own selection in the flashback creating machine, though without verifying what the subcategories are it’s hard to confirm or deny anything... but I also can’t shake what Maki said at the beginning of the game? How it felt like their talents were given at random?

So... so they’re not only back where they started - completely isolated with everyone they’ve ever known and the world they knew completely out of reach (in this sense, dead/not actually existing are functionally the same), but they get a helping of a totally warranted existential crisis on top of that.

And... their bodies are real, so everyone else really is dead. No happy sdr2 ending. Well, unless I mental-gymnastics that to read ‘they have physical bodies to return to, but as manufactured personas it’s pointless.’

Me too, Sweetcheeks.

We can’t go 5 minutes without a WHAM line.

B-But they were kidnapped weren’t they -?!

fujisaki does not deserve this slander

Return of the hat!!!

..... is it bad that I miss his hat. I. I really liked his hat. I know that it was representative of the way he held back and used it to hide himself, but - but I liked his original portrait. And I liked the way it was incorporated into his sprites and all the movements he makes with it and without it, like it‘s a phantom limb. okayI’llstop

Why... are we not getting a name here? Was Shuichi Saihara a made-up name too?

oh -

oh no

D: A... Anything...

H-He’s.... a complete fanboy too.................... holy shit. cute but terrifying he looks like much more of a schoolboy super!fan than real Shuichi

S-So wait, it’s not even autosuggestion then - he asked for it? How - how does this work with the flashback lights? It can be targeted like that??? god I’m going to have so many questions after this is all over

I think this may be the death knell for his psyche oTL I certainly wouldn’t be able to take this if I was in his position.

LOOK I KNOW I GET EXCITED ABOUT CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT TOO

but this is a bit much c-can you please keep that drool in -

asdfkjlsdf w h a t

was

was this omitted or something

I - I swear they were kidnapped they seemed a lot more freaked out?!

Even Rantaro, who seemed to know more than he let on at the time - ?!

I... I think I really need to go back and replay the prologue.

ME NEITHER K1-B0 I FEEL LIKE I’M BEING GASLIT

d-did

did you use it on me too

That... that I can believe. No matter who they were before - if they were consenting or not - it might not even matter, if they can’t return to how they were. In a sense, the Gopher Project story was practically preparing them for it - the idea that everything they knew and loved were gone, and would never come back. Oh... oh that’s bad....

TSUMUGI IS ACTUALLY TERRIFYING

SHUT UP NAEGI

wait why is seeing him say that worse than seeing Junko say her normal despair stuff

it’s the insincerity, probably...

YOU NERFED KAITO?!?!?!

YOU NERFED KAITO!!!!!!!

okay I take back what I said Maki you have my enthusiastic blessing to recklessly murder as necessary

RIP Tsumugi and all of her new depth

“I’m also the one that kept sneaking all of the death flags into his room while you were out training every night!”

Y O O O

YOU NERFED HER CHARACTER TOO?!?!?! YOU GOTTA LET THAT HAPPEN ORGANICALLY!!!

LMAO

Souda will never show this much awareness in his actual every day fictional life and that makes this 100% funnier

Everything has a writing credit.... every single thing? Every bit of development?

Even Kokichi’s coup and Kaito’s cooperation? And Kokichi manipulating Gonta? You just seemed so - so angry about that after the trial. Surely those, if nothing else...

At this point they’re just kicking a sad, beaten-down puppy. What more could you possibly do at this point - ?!

oH GOD I DON’T WANT TO SEE THIS

WHAT THE HELL WHO EVEN SAYS SOMETHING LIKE THAT

nNOOO

NO LET ME REMEMBER HIM THE WAY HE WAS

DON’T YOU CROSS THIS BRIGHT RED LINE SHIROGANE

NO THIS IS ILLEGAL I’M CALLING THE POLICE HE LOOKS ABSOLUTELY MAD -

GHGHGGHGHGHGH

GHGHghghghghhh

ghghgh

sdkflj

n o o o o oooo o o o o o o o

gggkghk

I-It’s not a lie! Even if it was manufactured, even if it was coded into them - their feelings were real to them! It might be by design, but - oh this sounds so hollow. It’s one thing to talk about ‘fate’ and ‘this was the work of a higher power’, but having it brought down on you in such a trivial way must be absolutely soul-crushing.

this is the saddest iteration of hangover!Shuichi that I have laid my eyes on in the entire game

nihilism.

tbh I never found Izuru that intimidating as a final villain in the last game - but here? Terrifying. Maybe it’s in contrast to Junko here, who has the overbearing destructive personality of a tornado, but the quiet emptiness and lack of a higher purpose, of absolute futility that he stands for here - that scares me a lot. Maybe it’s just because it seems to bring the concept of DR’s despair to a place that I can personally understand?

I keep saying ‘this is terrifying!’ but I mean, to be fair... it... kind of is. as always, fantastic use of text DRV3!

also can someone please shut up the peanut gallery for five minutes

well damn Monokuma that one felt aimed right at me

It reminds me of what Komaeda would say about his own motivation: it was watching everyone struggle with adversity, or the ‘despair of the killing game’, with the end goal of them ‘reaching hope’ - of seeing them overcome and grow stronger for it, that drove him forward. From the outside that makes sense; seeing other people overcome struggles, even ones so terrible, give us the mental strength to overcome our own problems. But for someone on the inside looking out... how perverse would that feel, to think that your suffering is basically being used as inspiration!p0rn? Knowing that there were voyeurs getting a kick out of your struggle?

What happens to game pieces after the game board is closed and put away?

Do they go into stasis? Do they just... exist, outside of time? Frozen forever, until they’re taken out to be ‘played with’ again; left to rot?

If they ‘win’.... they have no future. There’s nothing for them to move forward to reach. A piece learning that they’re a piece, and knowing their dreams after their trials will always stay just out of reach... how can anyone move foward like that?

“love that reaction” OH SHUT UP LUDENBERGxLUVER37

Fight for yourself! They fought to get you this far - Kaito and Kokichi died to give you this chance, even if they are a ‘lie”!

But Shuichi has never been able to fight for himself, only for the others...

Tsumugi, after spending the last hour verbally beating them down and shredding his and everyone’s sense of self to shreds: wow lol what a weakling

Everything is terrible and yet her saying this still got a laugh out of me, damn it.

S-SHUICHI? SHUICHI?

I-IS HE EMOTIONALLY SHUTTING DOWN -

OH GOD

HIS

H-HIS POV - IS GONE -

And nothing but despair left...

Did - did we just lose Shuichi...?

SWEETCHEEKS!!! SWEETCHEEKS, NO!!!

SWEETCHEEKS I’M SO SORRY!!!!

#Ryou plays drv3 #Shuichi Saihara #Kiibo #Keebo #Tsumugi Shirogane #spoilers #drv3 spoilers #most of the post was ready but my computer being in the shop meant it got super delayed #feelsbadman.jpg

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av3da · 6 years ago

Text

REQUESTED!!

heyoooooooo! it’s been a few weeks (definitely months) & i kept saying i would write again but i did not yikes. anyways i’ve been reading lately & getting some inspiration so yeah. this is trash cause i’m not good at luke stuff, i did get A LITTLE carried away with this word count wise, trying to make up for how crappy it was.

i K N O W luke doesn’t have tattoos. but i used that to my advantage for the sake of the story to pretned he had a secret one. which hemight for all we know.

lie to me has been stuck in my head for the majority that i was writing this but it would’ve been ironic if that’s what i titled this imagine so anyways.

1777 words

rumors - jacob whitesides

As a grumble escaped my lips, I threw my arm across my body as to hug the mattress while flipping over to now lay on my stomach, being awakened by the shrill chirps coming from my phone. Slowly coming to the realization of where the sound was coming from, I lifted my arm to touch the cold metal of my phone and glanced it over with tired eyes.

The house was filled with silence, opposed to the noises of mother nature outside my window. The sun shining brightly through the pane was enough to persuade me out of bed as I knew I wouldn't be able to fall back asleep after that. I practically jumped out of bed, not of excitement but because it would be the only way to really wake me up given my tired state.

Slipping my phone into the waistband of my pajama shorts, I grimaced at the feeling of the cold surface touching my skin. I walked out of my room and into the small apartment kitchen to pour myself a glass of water to start the day, then pulling out my phone to read the piling over notifications. I unlocked my phone and opened messages as those notifications were most likely the most important.

emilia: hey babe! keep your chin up! don't believe what everyone is posting!

bianca: you know i support you through everything & it doesn't end here. we know men ain't shit but he is a keeper. don't believe what you're seeing love.

tommy: girl no. this is NOT happening. this is total bullshit. don’t even think for a second that any of this is true. that girl’s story is so fake. she is a SNAKE.

I scrunched my nose up in confusion, snickering at the random messages while sipping my water slowly. I scrolled past a few other threads of group chats with my siblings and sole messages from cousins and other family members I felt close to. They were sending me messages of their concerns and support, and I didn't quite get what was the reason as to why.

my love lucas: babygirllllllll. i am so exhausted but it's 5 in the morning and we have to do some radio interviews for the album. thank you for staying up until we got back to the bus, & for that, i know you won't be awake until the afternoon. BUT I LOVE YOU & THE BOYS ARE YELLING AT ME SO TEXT ME WHEN YOU WAKE UP!!! xoxxoxxo

While my boyfriend's text did put a smile on my face, it put the texts into perspective for me and I already figured out what was going on.

He went to a party last night with his band members and few of the tour crew at a bar, and I had stayed up until three in the morning despite the fact that I was working all day just to make sure he made it back safe. I trusted him, and you can't have a long-distance relationship without trust.

This was the second tour that Luke has been on while we were dating, and despite the things that you may find in fanfictions, going along with them on tour just wasn't exactly a thing... or my thing at the least. I had school to attend, a job to pay for myself, an apartment to upkeep, and our pets to take care of. Sometimes he would fly me out when he was going to be in California for a few nights and I would get the groupie experience for the week, but it's just too stressful to bother my friends to watch our dogs, so I opted out after the third time it happened.

Everyone knows that alongside a boy band is a mass of fans. Fangirls, to be exact, that protect their boys through every decision they make and while it is super devoting and heartwarming, some of them don't like the fact that the band members are in a relationship. So ever since footage of Luke and I together surfaced the internet, my life has not been the same since. I used to get a lot of hate which didn't bother me because I, contrary to Luke's knowledge, was a fangirl myself so I knew it was bound to happen eventually.

As time went on, the fans came to accept our relationship, all the while still having a few who disapprove but proving them wrong just meant sticking by his side every day, and I planned to do that for the rest of my life.

Every time that they go out partying, plenty of pictures are per say leaked to the public, and their fans find a way to figure out their plans, meeting them at these bars and clubs. There are pictures of Luke talking to his fans at these venues almost every time and they don't bother me because yet again, I trust him.

But there was something different going on this time, my friends and family have been by my side through every single tabloid but their sudden concern was something that was a bit abnormal to me.

I put my glass of water down on the marble top counter and paced to the living room, where I pulled my laptop atop my legs. Typing quickly into Google, I scrolled through the 5SOS Update fan pages on Tumblr and Twitter, finally coming across blurry photos of Luke and another girl.

"It's too low quality to see what's even happening.." I spoke to myself with a soft scoff, glancing at one of my dogs that was staring at me with her head cocked to the side, "I talk to myself all the time, I'm not going crazy." I told my dog before laughing and going back to the screen.

A majority of the replies was concern towards me, maybe they knew something that I didn't. And that thought alone was concerning enough.

I trust Luke. I do. I trust him with my life.

That was until I stumbled across a reply from a girl who was saying that she was the one in the photo, and my heart skipped a few beats as I read her side of the story which was its own thread. I've seen fans concoct an entire story from a white lie and this seemed a bit dubious to me because he didn't text me much at the party, just before and after.

But I trust Luke with everything.

She wrote details about his secret tattoo that only I knew about and it's exact location, how his black polish clad nails traced up her arm as they spoke, and how his favorite alcoholic beverage was fresh on his breath.

This broke me.

I closed my laptop and put it aside, grabbing a bag of Doritos and trailing back to my bedroom. My head swirled with this new information, not wanting to believe it but it was so believable that it was physically stinging at my throat, but I refused to cry. I had cried myself to sleep when Luke was gone plenty of times, not because of the hate, but because I missed him, and I missed waking up next to him, and I missed the scent of him on my sheets.

I tried to tune out the negative thoughts in my head for an hour by blaring the television with whatever mildly funny show was on, it didn't work. I merely sighed and rose out of my bed again, walking to my bathroom to wash my face in hopes to shake this bad feeling off. As I dipped my head into the sink and flung cold water in my face to rinse off the soap, I heard keys shaking and my front door shifting as someone went to unlock it.

I froze in place and grabbed the shower curtain to cover my practically naked body. I'm home alone, of course, I'm only in a bralette and pajama shorts.

I heard the door close behind the person who was now in my house and I was trailing through how many people I had given a key to. The footsteps grew louder as the person came closer. I saw the toe of their shoes in the doorway, then he stuck his head in to peek around the room, connecting his bloodshot eyes with mine.

"Luke.." I let out a sigh and released the shower curtain, walking up to the boy who towered over me. His hair was a mess, as usual, and he was in his normal punk rockish outfit.

"It's not true." He told me firmly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard.

His eyes were red, he was crying, he was scared. His voice was wavering and his breath was shaky. "How did she know?" Was all I could manage to the broken-hearted boy in front of me.

"I had a lot to drink, and it's not an excuse but I didn't flirt with her or anything, she was just really close to me and kept touching me and I was trying to tell her off but she wasn't listening to me. She kept playing with my shirt color and touching my hair and that's how she found the tattoo. She kept mentioning your name and saying that you deserved better, someone you could see every day and someone who's normal, someone who takes you with them when they tour the world, someone who can answer your calls whe-" I cut him off with my lips, pressing a passionate kiss on him, slowly wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him lower to me as I stood on my tip toes.

His arms snaked around my waist and pulled me closer to him, deepening the kiss with every second that passed. When I pulled away from the kiss, I just stared into his eyes and nodded my head.

"I believe you. I know better than to believe them. I believe in you, and I believe in us." My voice was soft, but I was finally regaining my confidence. He chuckled softly, leaning down to hug my waist, lifting my body off the ground slightly as he whispered comforting words in my ear.

"Can I make us ice cream sundaes?" He whispered, a bright smile spreading on his face in which I giggled in reply and followed him to the kitchen with my hand in his.

As we made our way to the kitchen, one of the puppies ran up to us to greet Luke and I bent over to pick him up, cuddling him the dog as Luke prepared our dessert even though it was four in the afternoon.

#writing #imagine #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings #luke 5sos #5sos imagine #luke hemmo #luke gif

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pucketknife-blog · 7 years ago

Text

WE’LL CALL YOU~ self para [G]

↪ TAGGING: Noah Puckerman ( @pucketknife ); mentions of... pretty much everyone that manages a shop at JIH AND ELVIS THE DWARF MONGOOSE BLESS; ↪ LOCATION/TIME: NYADA Campus’ JIH Marketplace; May 11th & 12th; Friday afternoon and Saturday morning and afternoon; ↪ SYNOPSIS: It do take nerve! Puck tries his best at being “normal”. It starts with getting a job. Don’t call us, we’ll call you; ↪ WARNINGS: language if any, but nothing major. this is like 14 mini paras in one aka the longest para of all time rip my writing lol;

He’s got a pile of resumes in his hand and nothing but time ahead of him. He’s made sure to schedule every interview at least an hour apart from each other and split them into Friday and Saturday, even fit them to his classes so he doesn’t miss any more. Still, Puck’s hands are sweaty as he walks past Notos Towers as he heads to the JIH Market.

He doesn’t know what to expect. His eyes fall to his curriculum vitae, nothing on it but his personal data and one item that says “Trained Slayer” on it, the date of his thirteenth birthday, a dash, and the date of the sentencing. He downloaded a form from the internet trying to look professional, but it feels like he was reaching. He can’t even put himself as an A-ranked Slayer anymore.

He feels stupid.

However, it’s not like he has a choice. Puck likes eating. He likes being able to pay for his own expenses. He likes being self-sufficient. He doesn’t particularly like clothes, but he likes not getting arrested for walking around naked. Besides, at that particular moment in time, Puck doesn’t have anywhere to fall back onto. He’s on his own, and, even if the times were trying, a Puckerman never gives up.

( Even when other Puckermans are still debating if he could be considered as a Puckerman or not, that is. )

Ergo, him standing there, in a marketplace filled with laughing students, playing nice and being normal and getting a part-time job --or a few, if he manages to succeed.

The mere thought of what his father would say if he was still alive makes him sick to his stomach, and not for the first time in his life, he’s really glad his old man didn’t live long enough to see him where he is now.

He steps into the office of NYADA postal services, just a few people around coming and going, and he approaches the main desk to ask for the manager.

“It’s Amram Puckerman,” he tells the girl. “I believe they are waiting for me? I have an interview scheduled for today.”

She types something in her computer, then gives him a solid nod. “Yes, of course. You are welcome to wait for mr. McNaab right there,” he adds pointing at the chairs under a shelf of flying piggy bank deliverers. “Please, take a sit. He will be with you as soon as he’s free.”

He nods back and sits down, unsure of what comes next. What’s he supposed to do once inside? He’s never been in a job interview before. Are they going to ask him to fit him for a messenger bag? Is he supposed to know anything in particular? Is he overqualified? Or worse, is he underqualified?

“Amram Puckerman,” A whiny voice calls after him a moment later, and he stands up so fast the chair behind him menaces with falling back.

“Yeah, yes, here! I mean... That would be me.” He raises a hand awkwardly, and the old man peaks at him from over his rectangular glasses. They kind of look like envelopes, Puck thinks, but grandpa looks like he’s got little time to deal with bullshit, so he makes no comments and follows him into his office.

He keeps the introductions short, speaking only when he feels a question is directed towards him and hands his crappy resume. Mr. McNaab has to make a double take in between the resume and him a couple of times, but he doesn’t ask. He thinks that’s going to be something he needs to get used to. Maybe he’s read his name on the news. He wonders if that will affect his chances of making it in.

“So, tell me, Amram --may I call you Amram?” he asks politely putting the sheet of paper down and interlacing his fingers as he locks his bright honey-gold eyes on him. “Do you believe that the punctual delivery of mail can contribute to student happiness and health?”

Puck raises a brow.

“Excuse me?”

Mr. McNaab grimaces, but he repeats the question, this time slower. However, it doesn’t really help Puck to hear it again.

“I guess?” he answers. Mr. McNaab is not amused. “I mean, sure. Some students... need the support of their families, right. Like, their gifts? So it’s... like, super important... to get their shi- their stuff. On time. Sure.”

The old man’s expression doesn’t change as he speaks, and Puck can feel a drop of sweat slide down his temple.

“It’s important to keep people communicated,” he tries in a desperate attempt to fix it. “I’m sure it’s not easy to do it, but I’m willing to learn everything necessary to be good at it. I’m a morning person and I wake up before the sun is up, so if you give me a shot, you could have someone delivering mail even before the sun is out. I am also a really fast runner, so I can guarantee my deliveries will always be on time.”

Mr. McNaab nods slowly and his eyes go from Puck, to his resume, then to Puck once more. “Well, that’s most definitely something we like to see. At least you are willing to commit yourself to this job.”

“I am,” Puck adds quickly, almost talking on top of him. “I’m very good at following orders, and I don’t get tired easily --I’m in great physical shape.”

The old man dips his chin again.

“Good. Very, very good.”

He doesn’t say anything else as he stares at Puck intensely, and he squirms in his seat.

“So... Do I-” he starts, but Mr. McNaab raises a hand.

“Thank you so much for your time, Amram.”

Puck frowns, but presses his lips together and doesn’t say a word.

“We’ll call you.”

WITCHKEA looks just like a Common store he’s seen almost all over the country, full rooms in display for someone to point at and buy in it’s entirety. Puck doesn’t really understand what drives people to spend so much money in furniture when he’s managed to survive his whole life with a tent and a sleeping bag, but he’s still applying for a job there. Maybe he doesn’t get it, but he could probably lift one of those armchairs over his head without almost no effort at all --he thinks it’s a reason enough to get hired.

“Have you ever made a purchase at WITCHKEA, Amram?”

Mr. Edison Syven looks like 1800′s oil painting brought to life. His white blonde hair is slicked back into a high pony tail adorned with a white bow, at tune with his white vest and slacks. He walks among the furniture as a model would walk on a runway, fingers grazing at the items as if he was caressing them. Puck shakes his head as he follows him through the store.

“Here at WITCHKEA, we believe comfort is everything. Do you believe in comfort as a root for happiness?”

“Sure,” he shrugs involuntarily, and he��s happy Mr. Syven is more focused in wiping a spot on a mirror and smiling at his reflection than him.

“Tell me, mr. Puckerman, why do you think a properly furnished dorm room is essential to student success at NYADA?”

“Comfort?” he asks, and when the other man looks back at him with a raised brow he knows he should’ve answered that some other way. “I mean,” he clears his throat, “It’s important for students to feel at home so... they don’t get... stressed.”

Oil Paint Gent doesn’t seem to love his answer.

“Thank you, mr. Puckerman.”

“I’m really strong,” he adds in a desperate attempt to save himself, but something tells him he’s too late.

“We’ll let you know,” Mr. Syven smiles, yet the gesture never reaches his eyes. “Thank you for applying.”

He steps into Wholefoods Market and sees nothing but a line of cashiers, gazes blank as they pack groceries like robots. He swallows hard.

This was his future now, wasn’t it?

“Hello! Welcome to Wholefoods Market!” a thin redhead with a surprisingly low voice calls out excitedly, and his huge grin kinda makes Puck want to punch him in the face. “My name is Petey! How can I hep you today?”

He opens his mouth to ask for the manager, tell him he has an interview, let him know he’s desperate for a job, but nothing comes out. All he can see is Petey’s smile and the manic way in which he’s staring at him intensely, almost as if it was a hopeless cry for help. He turns his head to the cashiers, none of them smiling.

This was never gonna be his future.

“You know what, Petey?” Puck taps his shoulder a couple of times, offering a fake smile. “I’m good.”

He turns on his heels and walks out, leaving Petey and his crazy smiling as he waves him goodbye. First dead than dead inside.

“Amram Puckerman, here for an interview?” He leans into the counter as the cute girl on the front desk types into her tablet, sending her a seductive smile. American Witchpparel was never a place where Puck thought he would work, but seeing the girls that worked there really made him want to change his mind. “Here for your number, too, if you’re up to it,” he flirts shamelessly, smiling as the brunette looks up to meet his eyes.

“Mizra will see you now, Puck,” she smiles back, and he raises a brow at the use of his nickname. “What? I watched the NAO,” she shrugs and he can swear she’s batting her eyelashes at him before pointing to the office.

“Of course you did,” he winks as he straightens up. “I’ll see you later?”

“Maybe,” she singsongs, and he feels a boost of confidence. If he fucked it up, maybe she would speak up for him. Even if she didn’t, maybe he’d come back anyway.

“Hello, you must be Amram,” Mizra greets him as she opens the door for him and points at a chair. “You’re interested in becoming a part-time Sales Associate, if I’m correct?”

“Yes ma’am,” he nods handing her his resume before sitting down. “I... don’t have any previous experience, but I’m a quick learner.” And my smile can sell pretty much anything, specially to rich white girls, he wants to add, but he doesn’t. Just in case. So he smiles. He gives her his best, most seductive self and hopes that’s good enough.

“It’s exactly what we need! At least you’re honest about it!” she covers her mouth as she lets out a little snicker. Puck takes that as a win.

“So, Amram,” she starts sitting at the edge of her desk as she looks back at Puck. “What do you think about the phrase ‘dress to impress’? What does it mean to you?

Puck’s smile falters. “What’s it mean to me?” Nothing. Absolutely. Nothing. “Well... I’m more of a ‘dress for the occasion’ kinda guy myself...” he shrugs. “I see clothes as...” Annoying, most of the time. “A practical thing.” What.

“What?” Mizra asks.

“What.” Puck shrugs.

A long pause.

“I’m... not sure I follow...” she tries again, gently.

“I don’t really care how I look, I’m mostly into durable clothes. Like, the ones that won’t set on fire, or wont tore easily when I’m in the field?”

More silence.

“I’m not sure you will be a good fit for this job, mr. Puckerman.”

Puck gulps. “I can do this,” he says, then takes off his belt in a quick sweep, turning it into a whip.

Mizra jumps off the desk and yelps.

“OHMYAETHER, GET OUT!!!”

He doesn’t even try to ask for a second chance as he apologizes and puts his belt back on, hurrying out of the office. The door slams behind him and he sighs deeply.

Well, there goes working among the pretty girls.

“Cheer up,” the girl at the front desk tells him as he walks towards the door, and makes her way up to him, taking his hand in hers and pressing an American Witchppparel card with her number on it as she stands on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You’ll do better next time. Call me,” she whispers in his ear before walking away, flipping her hair and swinging her hips as she walks back to her workstation.

He lets out a snort and grins to himself as he walks away, saving the number to his phone’s contacts. At least it was not a total waste of his time.

The smell of Cookery & Cauldron makes his stomach groan and bark, but Puck doesn’t let that stop him from trying to act professional as he introduces himself to Patrick and Ersatz Spitz. They seem nice enough, and the shop is inviting. It’s not his dream, but at least it’s not Wholefoods Market.

“What does being a good customer advocate mean to you, Amram?”

Puck has no idea what ‘customer advocate’ means, but he thinks it might have something to do with being a waiter. Patrick and Ersatz’ piercing blue eyes fall on him, and Puck thinks about having them looking over his shoulder every day at work, which doesn’t help him relax.

“I think customer service is super important,” he blurts out. “If you make people feel good enough, they’re gonna come back all the time. Even if the food is not good enough,” he shrugs.

Their smiles falter. Both Patrick and Ersatz Spitz wince a little bit.

“I’m not saying yours is bad!” he adds hurriedly. “I’ve honestly never eaten here before, but the smells right now are pretty phenomenal.” There is a pause of silence, only interrupted by Puck’s stomach protesting again. “Sorry. But, eh... yeah. It’s like, if you treat people well, you make them feel comfortable and at home, it just makes them feel good. They feel like they’re among friends, so they tend to come back for more, right?”

He looked back at the couple, who were now nodding at him silently.

“And I can juggle,” he reaches. “And I do a mean Barak Obama impression, too.”

Just give me chance, Puck begged in his head. All I need is one chance.

By the exchange of looks between the Spitz, he wasn’t sure if he was going to get it.

He steps into The Spa at NYADA taking a deep breath as he is welcomed by the scents and aromas of the place, its warmth seeping into his skin and making him feel relaxed for the first time in the afternoon. Even if he doesn’t know the first thing about Spas, he thinks this wouldn’t be the worst place to be working on the downtime. At the very least, he can predict he’ll be chill, something that he can’t say very often.

“Missus Graeme will see you now, Mr. Puckerman,” the boy on the front desk tells him, his cheeks blushing green as he smiles up at him. “Please, follow me.”

The changeling guides him through a long hallway, doors to each side with different signs that list the special treatments, until they get to the other side and he opens the last door to reveal Millicent Graeme’s office.

“You must be Amram,” she greets him with a smile as he takes both his hands in hers and kind of bows. Puck does the same, just in case. “Please, take a seat, love.”

He does as he’s told, smiling back at her without being able to help himself. Wow, this Spa place was powerful.

“Hi,” he grins. “Thanks for having me.”

Her eyes seem to sparkle as they crinkle in upside down half moons, “Of course, everyone is welcome here at The Spa at NYADA, dear boy.” She takes the resume the changelling hands her and reads it over, brow quirking and smile faltering only slightly.

“Oh,” she sighs, and Puck can swear she looks disappointed. “Well. That’s unexpected.” Still, she puts the curriculum down and looks back at Puck.

“Tell me, Mr. Puckerman, do you have experience or knowledge in physiology and therapy?”

He shakes his head. “I... have some experience in healing others on the field...” he tries. “I can also carry a lot of weight on my shoulders.”

Ms. Graeme lets out a soft, airy giggle.

“That is very interesting, dear. Now, can you tell me something about the scents, and essential oils that help you relax after a long day?”

“E-essential oils?” The only oils Puck knows about are cooking oil and the one that goes in the car. He stays silent for a moment. If he weren’t under the influence of whatever it is they put in the air in this place, he’d be nervous again. “I like the smell of cinnamon and mint,” he offers as a last resource.

“You are a such a sweet boy, aren’t you, mr. Puckerman?”

He raises a brow. He doesn’t know how to reply to that.

“Thank you for your time, love,” she smiles again.

“Okay...”

“I’ll let you know.”

He doesn’t know why he’s trying anymore, but as she smiles, he does the same, too. His smile stays on until he steps out of the shop, when it falls, just as his shoulders and the realization that that was probably a terrible interview. He hates reality.

He schedules his interview at Madame Jason's for Friday morning before his classes, and as the bells chime as he walks into the shop, he is greeted by Ermis Johannes themself.

“Good morning, Puck! The same as always?” they ask with a smile as they reach for their amazing Babka.

“Ye- wait, no, actually,” he stops himself. “I am here for an interview? I kinda need a job and I thought, what could be better than working in my favorite shop in the JIH, right?”

Ermis laughs as they walk around the counter and guides him to one of the empty tables near the window. Once they settle down, they reach out and take the sheet of paper Puck is holding out, brow arched as they read.

“It looks like you don’t have much experience with baked good, don’t it?” they snicker as they slide the page back at him.

Puck shrugs and gives them an apologetic smile. “I’m a quick learner? I can also make some mean-ass waffles,” he offers. “C’mon, I gotta be one of your best customers,” Puck smirks. “Maybe you’ll end up paying me in nothing but baked goods, huh? Seems like quite the offer to me...”

Ermis shakes their head, amused. “You are quite the character, aren’t you, Puckerman?” They roll their eyes at him. “I’ll give you a chance, just for that. How about you tell me about your favorite homemade family recipe, what does it mean to you?

Puck is taken aback by the question. In the back of his mind, an alarm rings. He can almost smell the fain aroma of freshly baked Challah, the taste of the Babka heavy on his tongue, double chocolate chocolate because he’s earned it. The faces are blurred. He can almost hear the voices speaking in gibberish, out of tune, calling his name, his first name.

He shakes his head. Too real.

“Does rice count as a homemade family recipe?” he only half-jokes.

Ermis laughs. “I’ll let you know, Puck. Now, c’mon, let me get you your Babka --aren’t you late for class?”

After class, he doesn’t even bother leaving his backpack in his dorm. Instead, he heads directly to Magical Best Buy and asks for the manager. Soon enough, Ayal Varfolomey walks up to him and shakes his hand. “You’re a little late, but it’s fine. We are in the down season, but we do not tolerate tardiness when school is on. If you want to work here, is important you know that.”

Puck nods, letting them know it was a one time thing of his course running late, and it won’t happen it again, but he’s not sure if Varfolomey is even listening.

“You don’t have any experience with altered electronics, I see...” Ayal points out as they rearrange their cufflinks.

“I don’t, but I’m a quick learner.” He seems to be saying that a lot in these interviews.

“I doubt it,” the employer dismisses him before looking into his eyes. “At least you’re a New Age. So, Amram, what’s your favorite kind of altered electronic?”

Puck doesn’t know how to react to someone like Varfolomey. In other circumstances, he would’ve probably walked away, but he had already walked out from another shop the day before, and his options were limited. He couldn’t take the risk anymore.

“Well, after being hacked when I came to NYADA, I started using magic antiviruses in my computer, so I’d say that’s among my favorites...” he points out, but by the way Varfolomey is raising their eyebrow told him he isn’t selling it. “I also bought a tiny necklace that works as a one tera disk.”

Ayal smiles, cold and clearly unimpressed.

“We’ll let you know, mr. Puckerman. Thanks for stopping by Magical Best Buy; may I interest you in our new collection of Gonzalo the Dragon USB flash drives?”

“Please, sing for us the classic Commons melody ‘The Candy Man Can’ from the iconic movie Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, while you glide around the shop on this rolling ladder!”

“Excuse me?” Puck blinks incredulously as he looks at Valent Antigonus, surrounded by his smiling employees.

“‘The Candy Man Can’! It’s my favorite song. Everyone here has done it!” he squeals excitedly as he points at the people around him, who nod eagerly. “Do you suffer from stage fright, mr. Puckerman?”

“Not really, I just...” he replies as he scratches his head. Antigonus stares at him, eagerment visible in his eyes. He shrugs his shoulders. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

Puck settles himself, grabbing the rolling ladder that sits to the side as Antigonus claps and cheers. “Go for it, mr. Puckerman! We believe in you!”

Oh, how wrong they all were in believing in him. Because Puck is not as well versed in Common music as he thinks he is, and he starts blurting out Christina Aguilera’s version of ‘Candy Man’ at the top of his lungs instead.

🎶 ‘I met him out for dinner on a Friday night He really got me working up an appetite He had tattoos up and down his arm There's nothing more dangerous than a boy with charm He's a one stop shop, makes the panties drop He's a sweet talkin' sugar coated candy man A sweet talkin' sugar coated candy man’ 🎶

He’s kind of getting into it, too, shaking his head to the imaginary music as he glides around the shop to the best of his abilities. He has to admit, it’s kind of fun.

It’s not what Valent Antigonus expects, but he respects the effort. He doesn’t tell him he’s got the wrong song up until after he finishes the first chorus.

Puck would feel stupid if gliding in that ladder wasn’t as enjoyable as it was. He kinda wants to have another shot. He kinda wants the job.

Familiarsmart is bigger than he thought it would be, and as he waits for the manager, Puck can’t help but look around. There’s a huge variety of unnecessary things for animals and familiars, a really cool cowboy hat he thinks would look great on Elvis included, and he’s about to grab it so he can see how much it is when someone taps at his shoulder.

“Puckerman, yes? I’m Saleem Katmandu! Why don’t you come with me? Let’s talk.” Her smile is warm, as it is the hand she places on his arm as she guides him to her office in the back of the shop.

The room is small but cozy, the soothing smell of incense heavy in the air. Puck takes a sit in a puff opposite the one she takes and tries not to look stupid as he sinks deeper and deeper into it, but he probably fails.

“So, you’re interested in working with us?”

He nods. “Seems like a really cool place to work, not gonna lie,” he shrugs a shoulder. “You guys have all kind of good stuff out there. I’m pretty sure Elvis would go bonkers if he saw it...” he smiles back at her.

“Is Elvis your familiar?” she asks excitedly interlacing her fingers and tilting her head. “I would love to meet him, if that’s okay with you.”

Puck wants to say no, that Elvis a hurricane and he will destroy everything on his wake, but her eyes glisten with hope, and Puck feels that denying her this would be like taking candy from a child. So, he smiles.

“Of course, I don’t see why not.” He reaches for his Grimoire inside his pocket, trying not to fall in the process and only half-succeeding. As the book lays on his palm, it starts growing in size until is about as big as his hand, and he opens it to summon him. A blink of an eye later, Elvis jumps out of the pages and lands on the desk to their side.

“FREEDOM!!” Elvis yells at the top of his lungs into Puck’s brain, but all that comes out of his mouth is a ridiculous squeak that makes Saleem giggle.

“Well, aren’t you a delight,” she smiles at Elvis as Puck silently begs him to not fuck up. “Elvis, do you want a snack?”

“Do I want it!” Elvis is quick to jump on top of Puck’s head and land on the manager’s extended hand, taking the treat into his little hands and chomping on it loudly.

‘Be nice, be nice, be nice,’ Puck repeats in his head. ‘Do not screw this up, Elvis, or I swear, you’re not coming out in a whole month.’

Elvis, however, doesn’t have time to listen to Puck whine. He’s all over that tasty treat ms. Nice Eyes hands him and is humming as he savors it. “This is SO good, you need to get me more of these, WOW. Hey, can I be her familiar instead?”

Puck rolls his eyes, “I think he really likes you.”

Saleem’s eyes don’t leave Elvis as she speaks, a kind smile plastered on her features. “I like him too... You’re a little sweetheart, Elvis, aren’t you?” She tickles his stomach with her finger, and Elvis pretty much melts in her hands.

“Ooh, yeah, right there,” he purrs, and Puck is a second away from snatching him away. His little foot taps against Saleem’s palm rhythmically as he leans into her touch.

Still, she doesn’t seem to mind it. She doesn’t even look back at Puck as she follows up with the interview. “Tell me, Amram, how did you meet? Why do you think your relationship with Elvis is important?”

Puck thinks about the question as he watches Elvis lay down on her hand, rubbing himself against her as he keeps making really weird sex noises in his head. Damn, he was a kinky fucker.

“We met way back when,” Puck starts, and then gives her a short version of the story. “He found me in a time of my life in which I felt very alone, and he... kind of became my best and only friend. He can be a bit sassy and annoying at times, because he’s super demanding and he won’t let me cut his nails and he keeps jumping on me and scratching me, but... at the end of the day, he’s always there, y’know? He knows what to say to make me snap out of a funk or encourage me when I need a buddy. He helped me get more in tune with my magic and myself, he helped me understand my powers and, even if he’s got quite the mouth, he’s always been very supportive... in his own way.”

He smiles, and Elvis looks back at him as he lays on Saleem’s hand comfortably and hugs her finger with his tiny hands. “Dude, that was so beautiful,” he mocks him. “C’mere, I wanna kiss your bald-ass head, I wanna smooch your ugly face.”

“Shut up,” Puck snorts rolling his eyes at him, but he’s still smiling.

“You two are adorable,” Saleem chimes in, and in that moment, Puck is sure she heard every singe word Elvis said to him. He doesn’t ask.

When he walks into his next interview in the Coughing Coffee, he’s feeling somewhat confident. He thinks his interview at Familiarsmart wasn’t as bad as every other he’s had this far, and even if he doesn’t want to go on record on it, he believes he might have that one in the bag. He would never tell him, but it probably was thanks to Elvis, who has once again had crept into his Grimoire --he has considered keeping him around, but upon second thought, he was pretty sure he didn’t have the manners to be freed in a public space like the one he was walking into right then, specially not during a job interview. Specially not with so many tasty treats displayed around.

With or without him, Puck is not feeling as crappy as the day before. For the first time since his sentencing, he thinks maybe he could make this work. Just being a student. Having a couple part-jobs to support himself. Get his degrees, at least major in Engineering and Jewish studies --he believes he can get somewhat of a normal job with those. He could design shit. He could fix shit. He could teach. He could blend in.

It’s not ideal, but he has an option. Quinn wasn’t wrong. He does have something to look forward to.

He introduces himself to the manager and follows him to a table far away in a corner of the shop. Mr. Yanick Haanraads sits up straight as he watches Puck closely, just as if he was trying to find what was wrong with him. Puck straightens up himself, smoothing a hand over his chest to fix his shirt, looking down to make sure there were no stains before he looked back at the other man.

“Well,” mr. Haanraads starts, his voice low and soothing, “Why do you want to work on the Coughing Coffee?”

Puck sighs, and he stops himself from shrugging just in time. “I think you guys have the best coffee in NYADA,” he chooses to say with a solid dip of his chin, and he’s not lying. He also think it’s the most expensive in school, but that’s beside the point. “I think, if given the chance, I could... learn to be an amazing barista.”

“Learn?” the man repeats, and he picks up Puck’s curriculum vitae and reads it, brows raising in surprise. “Oh. You don’t seem to have any previous professional experience brewing coffee or other hot beverages. I understand now.” He puts the sheet down and gives him a tight smile. The silence that sets between them makes Puck fidget in his seat.

“I make coffee in my dorm a lot,” he chimes in, and the manager nods.

“Of course you do,” he comes back, clearly unimpressed. “Tell me, mr. Puckerman, what type of coffee bean you consider to be the best and what’s, in your opinion, the ideal way to prepare it and consume it?”

Puck is startled by the question, brows raising in surprise. “Type of coffee bean?”

Yanick Haanraads arches a brow.

“Black?” Puck tries.

“Thank you for coming in, mr. Puckerman,” the man says politely, and Puck’s chest deflates. The interview is over.

“Thanks for your time, mr. Haanraads. I’ll show myself out.”

Dick's Sporting Goods seems like an easy bet, and Puck walks into the shop with much more confidence than he’s had in almost every other job interview he’s got this far. He’s not so much into sports, but he’s always been an athletic guy, he’s sure he could fit in Dick’s Sporting Goods with ease and almost no effort. That’s if he manages to get through the interview without screwing it up.

“Amram Puckerman,” he repeats for what it seems the hundredth time in the past few days as he shakes mr. Pertu Leoni’s hand.

“Ah, yes. Yes, we were expecting you, Amram,” the short man nods as he squeezes his hand. The Italian accent is heavy on his tongue, and his grip is much stronger than he thought it would be. However, even if the man didn’t smile up at him, he appears to be willing to give him a chance.

After a quick round of introductions and Puck letting him know a little about himself -what he studies, what sports he likes, what was he looking forward in a job- the manager looks back at him with intensity in his gaze. “So, tell me, are you a guy who likes to display your school spirit?”

Puck chews on his bottom lip and shakes his head. “Honestly, not really. I’m more of a solo player, most of the times.” He knows it’s not what the man wants to hear, but he hopes at the very least he values honesty. “But I have no problem in being a team sport when necessary. In fact, I was one of the Thundercats, the NAO semifinalists. I think you could say I was kinda getting into the school spirit?”

“Aha, aha, and, do you think sporting events are events are important to student unity?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. Because, really, who cares about student unity. It’s not like this school will be the rest of his life. This is supposed to be nothing but a stepping stone in his path to success and eternal glory. Yet, he wants to do good. Working in Dick’s sporting goods sure sound better than WITCHKEA.

“I think so, yeah,” he replies, very little conviction in his voice, but he really wants to try. So, he appeals to the only thing he knows how to do well: he gets brutally honest. “The thing about sporting teams and sporting events is that with the whole team spirit, they give you a sense of belonging, and a sense of having something to fight for. Most of these kids, they’re not really used to fighting. Growing up in the field as a Slayer, I think it’s kind of different. We learn to trust ourselves, but also rely on others to achieve our goals. We are a team, because we have no other choice. Relying on each other, how well you can work among other people, can make the difference between living and dying. We train others to make ourselves stronger. Passing the torch is as much of an honor as it is to yield it, you know what I mean?” he sees himself drifting from the point and clears his throat. “What I mean is, sporting events are like the field I work on, but in a controlled environment. You get to learn about your own strength, and by being part of a team, you make each other stronger. You learn to share and to work together as a unit, which is really something many kids who come here never been through before. I think... it’s a healthy and ‘fun’ way to grow. And that’s... well, it’s nice. To belong somewhere.” He gives the manager a smile, sadder than he wishes it was.

“That is one way to put it,” the man nods solemnly. “Thank you, mr. Puckerman.”

He has no clue what that means for him, if his response was enough or if he had just buried his chances, but he knows for sure the interview is over.

“Thanks for your time, mr. Pertu Leoni. I’ll wait for your call.”

He notices the smell of dust and old paper heavy in the air as soon as he walks through the door of Grim & War, and he sniffles as he makes his way to the counter and rings the little bell. As he waits, his eyes drift to the floor to ceiling shelves stocked to its maximum capacity and wonders what kind of things are just sitting there. Puck has never been a big fan of books, but he can understand the appeal. Books aren’t practical, and he’s never been one to read more than what’s absolutely necessary for him (aside from Fight Cub). He respect books, of course he does. He just... rather watch the movie.

“Are you Amram Puckerman?” Mr. Moore smiles at him, lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s nice to meet you, my name is Lazarus Moore. I’m the manager of this store.”

As he tells him a little bit about the history of Grim & War, Lazarus leads him through a mini-tour guide of the shop, pointing at shelves and telling him which section is which and why, how to guide the readers from the best sellers that he wouldn’t buy, to the treasures in the back, those that make his eyes sparkle and sigh in content.

“What kind of experience do you have with magical texts and literature, mr. Puckerman?” Lazarus asks when the tour comes to an end and they stand on the front desk again, and Puck gulps as he works out a way of saying he’s not an avid reader in a way that doesn’t get him dismissed as a candidate for the job immediately.

“I guess you could say, I don’t have much experience with them,” he finally confesses with sincerity. “I’ve never been an super into reading, but I’m slowly but surely learning the appeal of a good book.”

Well, maybe not full sincerity. He’s running out of options, after all.

“My family likes more the kind of hands-on approach of learning, but since I started here, I’ve found myself relying on books and magical texts a lot. If you’d ask me the same question a couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to reply at all, but today... I wanna say, I’m a work in progress. I enjoy reading about things I find interesting as a hobby, specially things that revolve around engineering and constructing things. I’m trying to... train myself, if you will. Make it a habit, reading a little bit everyday.”

“It’s always a good way to start,” Lazarus nods and gives him a little smile. “Are there any books in particular you gravitate towards?”

Puck chuckles and shrugs a shoulder “I’m a bit basic when it comes to literature, so I was hoping maybe working here would somehow... educate me? You see, the only books I read are the Torah, text books on Slaying and weaponry and Chuck Palahniuk. Mostly Fight Club. Several times. Someone I care about gave me some books on engineering that have become my favorites, too.” He can see the manager is amused, and even if he knows he has little to no chance there, he takes that as a good sign. “But, I’m open to suggestions... Is there something you can recommend for me?”

Finally, Lazarus teeth shine through from in between his lips, flashing him his pearly whites as he nods in excitement. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He’s been in Jiggly's more than once before, sometimes with Finn and sometimes alone. He finds it to be a great place to unwind after a long week, so as soon as he walks in, he waves at the staff as he sits on the bar.

“The usual?” A blonde boy at the bar asks as he sets shot glasses in front of him, hand already reaching for the houses’ best Tequila, but Puck puts his own over the glasses and shakes his head.

“Can’t. I’m here for an interview, actually. Do you know where Bert is?”

“Office on your nine,” he points at it with his chin as he wipes the dust off the exhibited bottles. “You think you can keep up with me behind the bar?” he teases him with a smirk. Puck shakes his head as he stands up.

“Oh, Rudy,” he chuckles as he walks away, “You know no one compares to you, babe!”

He laughs as the blonde shakes his head, knocking on the door and waiting for the manager to let him in.

“Mr. Puckerman, no?” Bert asks once he’s sitting in front of him. His bushy brows take over half of his face, expression menacing as he glues his eyes to Puck’s. “Do you have any previous experience in bartending and mixology?”

He sighs softly as he tries to say ‘no’ in the nicest way possible. “It depends on what you call experience,” he chooses to say looking back at Bert. “I’ve done my fair share of bartending for the Guild, but no one’s ever payed me for it.”

Bert doesn’t laugh. Instead, the corner of his lip twitches up and he nods his head. “Funny. You’re funny. I like you. Tell me, what’s your favorite drink? Please describe the best way to make it for me.”

“Favorite drink?” Puck has always been into beer and tequila before fruity cocktails, but he’s lucky his father used to be such a big fan of a good Old Fashioned. “Is there anything better than an Old Fashioned? Just some good bourbon poured on a Angostura bitters saturated sugar cube, a slice of orange and a cherry... In my opinion, it’s even better if it’s a Maraschino Cherry, but my father preferred to use fresh ones. Whiskey works fine, too, but bourbon is ‘for real men’. Or at least, that’s what my dad used to say.”

“Your dad seems like a smart man,” Bert nods solemnly, and for the first time in his life, Puck silently thanks his father for literally beating that recipe into his brain.

He leaves the interview at Black & Deck Her for last, knowing it was going to be the easiest one. After two days of talking to people and begging them for jobs he doesn’t want, Puck finally gets to the one shop he really wouldn’t mind working at. As he watches the display of weapons sitting in the window, he finally feels at home. He’s got this one in the bag.

“It’s nice to meet you, ms. Deck Her,” he says with his most charming smile as he shakes her hand. “I’m Amram Puckerman, here for a job interview?”

“Ah, yeah,” she eyes him carefully. “The Slayer, ain’t ya? Yeah, Davis said something about ya stopping by...”

Puck tries not to take the way she’s looking at him personally, and hopes she’s not one of those people who think ‘Slayers are murderers’, but he’s pretty sure hating on the people who buy from you would be a stupid choice, so he chooses to believe that’s just the way she looks at people in general.

“Well, I’m very interested in the open position you have. Not only I have a good deal of experience with weapons, but I’m also majoring in engineering --I kind of want to expand on my weapon manipulation abilities and be able to create new weapons that are more effective and practical for the field.”

“Weapon manipulation?” she asks, a spark of interest glistening in the corner of her eye. “Do tell...”

Puck smiles and points at an empty cup on the table, “May I?” She nods, and the Slayer wraps his hand around it, an orange flash covering it for a second as it shifts into an RE-45 autopistol. He shows it to the manager, then closes his hand around it and the flash covers it again. He opens his hand to revel a classic Bowie knife, and when he places it on the table and moves his hand away, the knife turns back into the cup.

“That’s a first,” Hilda Deck Her quirks a brow at him. “New Age?”

“Yes, ma’am. Developed that myself,” he states proudly, and even if her face is inscrutable, he knows there’s no way she’s not impressed if she’s as much into weaponry as she is.

“So,” she blurts out a second later as she plops her elbow on the counter, chin resting on the palm of her hand. “What kind of weapons do you practice with? Why do you like them?”

“I’m trained in multiple fighting styles, so I have basic knowledge of how to use most traditional weapons -firearms, swords, the eventual bow and arrow, though personally I’ve always preferred a crossbow, knives and other things- but I usually lean into guns I can yield in one hand. I tend to combine a lot of body combat with weapons and magic, and the good thing about guns is that you can always use them with one hand and punch with the other,” he shrugs with a little smirk. “I think they’re practical, easy to use and effective. Plus, who can resist the smell of gunpowder?” he adds with a teasing wink. He doesn’t get much of a response, and he shrugs a shoulder as he continues. “If I don’t have a gun, my second choice would be a handy combat knife, mostly because of the same reason. They give me the freedom to fight freely and a good back-up plan in case things don’t work my way.”

Ms. Deck Her nods again, writing something down on his resume before she looks back at him. “Seems like you know your way around weapons, huh?”

Puck smiles at her. “I could always learn more. If you’d let me, that is.”

He really wishes she would.

/// Do you want to help Puck get a job? 👉🏿 Call me, maybe? The Survey. ///

#nyadajobs #paras #para: self #para: we'll call you

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winchestersimagines · 7 years ago

Text

Through the time

Characters: Dean x reader, Sam x Reader,John Winchester, sister!reader, child!Sam, child!Reader, winchester!sister

Summary: Dean travels through the time to prevent somthing bad.

Warnings: angst, language (like just one), bad memories, characters dead

A/N: Sorry for being so unaktiv. I had alot to do the last few weeks. But I´m gonna change that. I hope you will like this one shot. It alittle bis like the episode where dean traveld back in time so maybe he can save his Mother. And yeah what can I say more? Have fun reading this and maybe let a little feedback here this would be great :) @winchesters-favorite-girl I wanted to tag you. I don't know why I wanted to do it. But I wasn't sure. I am shy but you discription said we can tag you in everything, so I thought why not? You are my favorite acount on tumblr your writings are so good, I love them*-* So maybe you will read this little story I made up. I hope you like it :)1

“SAM HAVE YOU SEEN MY GUN?” I yelled through the bunker. I stood in my room already packing my stuff for the hunt we where heading to. “I don’t know.” He yelled back. “Do you remember the last time you saw or used it?” He questions, walking into my room. “I shoot the witch, and thats it.” I answered. I walked through the bunker searching everywhere. I ended up at the garage, I looked inside baby and found it directly. “GOT IT!” I yelled so sammy would know.

7 hours later

We where on our way to the next hunt and It was already dark outside. Sam was asleep. I tried my best to stay awake but it was hard so a drove to the nearest motel and booked a room for the tow of us. I immediately got to bed.

I was blinded when I opend my eyes the first time. The second time it was easier to open my eyes. How long did I sleeped? We should be at the hunt and already be interviewing the victims. When I wanted to wake Sam I realized I wasn’t in my bed. I sat up and looked around me. I was at a park, laying behinde some trees.

What am I doing here? It was very bright outside today. The sun was shining really bright today and it was pretty warm today. I walked around the park until I walked into a small street. I got my phone out and dialed Sam´s number. But his number wasn´t actual. I hand up and at that moment I walked by a little shop and walked in. I walked staight to the new paper and read the date. 22. July 1995. What?! That couldn´t be true. Where is the hidden camera? I stormed out of the shop. I am stuck in the 90´s? This can´t be true.

“Winchester!” Yelled someone. I turned aorund. “What?” Yelled someone. I turned back around just to see, Dad? I tried to walk as nothing happend. When dad here is is Sam not far away. I followed Dad until I landed at a crappy motel. I waited a whole night until Dad was gone again.

I slowly walked to the motel room and knocked quetly on the door. A few minutes later a 12 year old Sam opend the door. “Who are you?” “Hey Sammy.” i said smiling. “Dean?” He said a little bit shooked. “W-what are you doing here and why are you older?” He asked confused. “Long story.” Is what I answered. I walked in and sat down on the couch. “What are you doing?” “Sammy who is this?” Asked a little girl that hid behinde the bathroom door. “Y/N come here!” Y/N? My little sister? I haven´t seen here since she.. died. “Y/N?” I asked her. Sam picked her up and she hid her face in his neck. “Of course it´s her. Why are you suprised?”

Of course. I know why I´m here. I can prevent Y/N dead. “Sam, I just traveld throuh time. I didn´t know why. But know I now why!” I told him and stood up to grab some guns. “Whoa what? Why? How?” He asked following me with his eyes. “Sam something bad is going to happen and I need ypour help!” I said. “And what do you thing I am going to do with Y/N? I can`t let her alone!” I what he said and put her into bed and kissed her forhead. “You don`t get it. It´s about Y/N.” “What do you mean?” He aksed. “The thing you are hunting is a Vampir and is going to kill Y/N tonight.I know it I was here before. I am from a future where she died as a child and I can`t let it happen again. When I have the chance now I´m gonna take it! So are you in or not?” I asked and looked him in the eyeys dead serious. “You mean we going to kill a son of a bitch that is going to kill my babysister? Of course I´m in.” He said start packing. “But wait what are going to do with her as long we are gone?” He asked. To be serious I don`t know. I thrifed away in to old memories.

It was a pretty cold night and I was in a crappy montel with my little brother and sister. Dad was out for a hunt and I had to take care of my younger siblings. I am so angry at Dad. I wanted to help to kill this damn Vampir. But of course I had to take care of my younger siblings. “Sam I am out to grab some food!” I yelled back to Sam, so he would know I´m out. “Yeah but don`t need that long we are starving.” He yelled back but still giggeling. He said in front of the Tv with out youngest family mamber watching catoons and playing with Y/N. I smiled into me and walked out. I just needed 40 minutes. But when I was back, the motel door was wide open. I let the food fall and stormed in. All I saw was Sam crying in the conor of the room. I turned my head and saw Dad with Y/N in his arms. Just that she hung in his arms lifeless. I couldn´t move. Dad looked up to me with such disapointment and saddnes I have ever seen. “Dean I told you to take care of your siblings. I can never forgive you for that.” Is all he said before turning his attation back to Y/N.

“Dean?” Was what I heard until I realised it was Sam. “Oh yeah sorry.” I shaked my head to get this bad memorie out of my head. “Are you ready?” asked Sammy. “Of course.” I said throuwing my bag over the shoulders.

1 Hour later

We walked for like an hour out into the woods. “What if anything happens to her?” Sam asked. “We are going to get this monster and kill it before any thing can happen to her.” I made him sure. We got to a old house far into the forrest. I got my machete out and Sam did the same. I quietly opend the door and walked in, Sam right behinde me. We searched any connor of this hous but all we found was dead bodys and a lot of blood and empty beer bottlers. “Why aren´t they her`” I asked quietly to myself. At exact moment Sam´s phone rang. We loocked at each other until he answered the call. “Hello?” He asked. I watched curious. “Wait Y/N who is inside the room?” He paused. “Hide somewhere. Where I told you to hide when someone iin your room. We are there just wait a little bit. Don`t make a sound ok? We are there any minute.” He hang up and we run all the way back to the motel. I regred that we had no car. It took us good 10 minutes. We stormed into the room with our machetes up, ready to kill anybody.

The Vampires where supriesed to see us. “Winchesters! I didn`t tought to see you here this early.” Said a man with long blond hair and brown eyes. “My name is Arron by the way. And I think we have simething that belongs to you.” Was all he said and brought Y/N in. “SAMMY! DEAN!” She cried. “Let her go.” I said really angry. “Oh Dean, you hunters need to learn a lesson. If you keep trying to kill us, then we are going to hunt you and your hunter friends until they are all dead. And we are starting with this cute little childe.” He laughed. I looked to Sam. He nooded back and that was the signal that we aree going to attack them. I cut someones head of. Arron saw it and attacked with his leads back. Sam cutted some heads off before he was pushed down to the ground. He could break free from this monsters grib. And cut his head off. I felt a grib on my leg and was draged back and fall down. I landed on my head, and saw stars but I shaked my head. But someone sat down on me and pushed me down. Shit he was very strong. Someone else came up to me and held my head. “Let`s make him one of us.” Laughed the one sitting on me. “Good Idea.” The other one laughed. He ribbed my mouth open and the other one already wanted to cut his arm to let the blood drip into my mouth, but his head was choped of exact this moment. Sam looked down at me. I cut the other one the head of since my arms where free and took my machete back. Sam was long gone when I stood back up.

Just Arron the leader was up. But he still had Y/N in his crib. “Go away or she is dead!” Was all he yelled before Dad apperad behinde him and chopped his head off. Y/N ran up to us and Sam and me kneeled down and huged her tightly.

Someone splashed water at me. “Wake up you loser.” Said someone to me but it was a females voice. I ripped open my eyes and sat up. I saw a young woman starring at me. “Oh look who is awake, Sam. After I tried everything,” She laughed. “Y/N?” I asked. “Yeah that´s me.” She said. I stood up and hugged her tightly. “Wow you are acting like we haven´t see us in years.” She laughed a little suprised, because of my hug. “You have no idea.” I laughed with tears in my eyes. She finally hugged back, and I gave her a kiss onto her hair. “I love you.” I told her, tears of joys rolling down my face. “Of course I love you too.” She said smiling.

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softjikookie · 7 years ago

Text

run | one (rewritten)

oc x kim namjoon genre: general type: american singer x idol au wc: 3.1k

▸in which an idol falls in love with an american singer in a girl group. but things change when three of the girls in the group notice their member distancing herself. ↳ prologue / one

This is when someone should feel the happiest. Doing something they love, something that keeps them going, something people strive for. In her case, this was her happiness. Standing on the stage with her three best friends, sweat dripping down her face, fans screaming. The only three people she thought she could never live without.

C U R R E N T L Y

The lights dim on the interview stage, cueing the four girls to scurry off the stage to get ready for the interview that follows. Everyone surrounds them, stirring them of their mics, handing them water bottles, and patting their faces with tissues or towels to stop them from sweating.

“Bebe and Laila, I need to touch up your makeup.” The main stylist spoke quickly, ushering the two women to follow her. Sabrina, the stylist, has been working with the girls since they debuted four years ago. The girl group, Peaches, didn’t start off like many of the other groups in North America. No contest shows, no recruitment, just hard work. These four girls trained for years to become where they are at.

Of course, they aren't the only ones who trained like this, they were the lucky ones that were put into a group and debuted. That’s something you don’t often hear in America, usually, it's just someone who competed on a show or got lucky and signed with a record label. The two women are quick to follow the other woman, adrenaline running through their veins from their previous performance.

The three of them manage to make it to the dressing room without bumping into people or tripping over cords. “How long until the interview?” The rapper, Laila, questions while taking the seat that's available for her to get her makeup touched up. The girl group consists of four members and each of them have their own roles within the group.

The leader, the rapper, the dancer, and the vocalist. She watches as her best friend chats with the stylist, herself occupied with the thoughts running through her head.

‘Was I enough? Did I truly do my best?’

That being said, she doesn't even realize that her name is being called repeatedly until a hand is waved in front of her face. “Bebe!” She jumps, obviously surprised to see her group member waving her hand in front of her face.

“Huh?”

“It's your turn,”

Laila stands up straight before walking off to do whatever. Bebe sighs, running a hand through her dyed pink hair. She spots Sabrina waiting for her impatiently and that's when Bebe remembers that they're on a schedule.

“Luckily, I don't have much to do. Laila was worse.” Sabrina explains, tilting the vocalist’s head to the side. That's what the stylist always does. She tilts your head a bit to see what she's working before doing what she does best. It’s almost the same thing when she's choosing outfits. The only thing that is different, is that she scopes you out a bit before deciding.

It's weird, yes, but Sabrina is the best of the best. All of the staff, including the members of the girl group, are glad to have Sabrina on their team. “Well that was expected, she was really nervous today.” Sabrina hums, already knowing about how nervous the girl was. Now, Peaches has been interviewed by much bigger hosts and even performed for bigger crowds, but the rapper always manages to fuck up the interviews. Always.

Their first interview ever as the newest debuting girl group, Laila somehow managed to sprain her wrist from tripping over her own feet. They had some major interviews after winning a few awards from some big award shows in America. The first major one they had, it was right after they won their first award, Laila somehow managed to get soda spilled on a six thousand dollar dress. But who walks around backstage crowded full of people with a glass of soda with them? That one still boggles the girl group.

The reason why the rapper is so nervous is that this is, in their opinion, Peaches best comeback yet. Their most recent single, ‘Endless Nights’, has been doing so well. People are starting to say that Peaches is becoming the best girl group in America within the past few years.

The group has also earned the nickname, ‘The Misfits’, because of how different they are from one another and how they stand out within the music industry, but somehow they suit each other. Maybe it's the bond of their friendship. That being said, Laila is also known as a blabber mouth so if she speaks before she thinks, she’s bound to release information that she’s not supposed to reveal yet.

“You never know, she may not mess up.” The leader of Peaches, Cleo, butts in. Bebe looks at Cleo through the dressing room mirror as Sabrina wipes off and reapplies the vocalist’s lipstick. Cleo’s long dark brown hair is thrown up into a bun as she straightens out her outfit whilst looking in the mirror. Indie, the dancer, is standing near Cleo and Bebe but she’s too busy on her phone to really pay attention or join in the conversation.

The four members of Peaches are wearing coordinating outfits. The concept for this comeback, is a mix hip hop, pop, and a bit of indie clothing style. The music is really similar to that as well. The outfits consist of crop tops, mesh shirts, high waisted skinny jeans, high waisted shorts, fishnet long sleeved shirts and/or stockings, with boots or sneakers. It’s something the girls really got a say in this time.

This is their third comeback after all. When people search into the group, they don’t look at the fact of how controlled they are by their management. It’s both a good thing and a bad thing.

“Where did she go?”

Cleo glances around the room, looking past the other people crowding in the room, wondering where the smallest member ran off to. The other people in the room is part of their team. Like their manager, other stylists, stage crew, etc. Cleo is the tallest member, Laila is the smallest member, Indie is the fittest member next to Cleo, and Bebe has the normal body type. Yes, everyone in the group has different body shapes, but it just makes the group more relatable for the fans.

The four have ten more minutes before they need to take their seats and have this interview before they can head home and one of them has decided to run off.The leader lets down her hair, ruffling it up a bit before sighing.

“I’m all done.”

Sabrina steps back, already taking a look at the other two members to make sure they are good to go for the cameras. “She’s probably in the bathroom. Knowing her.” Indie spoke, making the other two members look at her. They didn’t even expect the black haired girl to be listening to the conversation at all.

The two members nod their heads, yeah sounds like Laila. “Well, I’m going to have you three get your mics put back on you. Laila can get hers put on as we walk backstage.” Sabrina informs the girls, although it’s not her job to do this. She just chooses to do it anyway, knowing how busy the other crew members are.

I N T E R V I E W

“We know how tired and busy you girls must be so we bought you drinks from Starbucks.” The male host spoke right as the female host gets up to grab the drinks.

“It’s been awhile since we’ve had Starbucks, right?” Laila questions, eyeing the drinks on the tray that being brought over to them. So far the interview has been going well, the nervous girl hasn’t screwed anything up. Though the interview has just barely reached the halfway mark, or so they hope. Exhaustion is starting to set in from not really getting any sleep from the previous day, also having a performance then too.

“We had to ask your manager what your favorite drinks were, we didn’t want to get something you girls don’t like.” The female host spoke, passing out the drinks, a nice smile on her face. The girls feel relieved to be able to have a bit of caffeine that’s not made from home or the crappy one that’s at the recording studio. “Thank you.”

The four girls say in unison, truly grateful for the coffee. Luckily after this, they can change to head home. Hopefully, they can catch up on some much-needed rest. Bebe waves at a fan that is waving towards them, trying not to be obnoxiously rude like some of the other fans that like to scream out their names when the interviewers are talking.

“So your most recent single titled ‘Endless Nights’ has been topping the charts recently. You’ve also recently received a few awards for the song as well. Do you mind or soul you share, rather, what the song is about?” The male host questions, having to glance at the cards in his hand a few times.

“I think that Bebe would be able to answer that one the best.”

Bebe smiles at Indie before looking at the hosts in front of her, wrapping her hands a bit tighter around the somewhat cold plastic cup in her hands. “She only said that because I helped write the song. Um, it’s basically about being young, I guess you could say. It’s just about grabbing your best friend or friends and having fun nights together and just enjoying life really. I decided to write about things that most people are generation should experience. Just the thrills of being young and it is something that the four of us,” Bebe takes a breather whilst gesturing to her group members.

“-haven’t really gotten to experience because of our chosen career and the years of work we put in before becoming what we are now.” The girl finishes, feeling content on how she explained the song that she worked so hard on. Of course, the song isn’t completely hers. She also had to work with songwriters and together they work on Peaches best song yet.

“For the youngest member, you speak really maturely.”

“Trust me, it all changes when she’s off camera.”

Bebe nudges the dancer, wishing she could smack her upside the head but she refrains from doing so. Their manager wouldn’t like that very much and she’s not in the mood to be scolded over a harmless action. “Now that your single has been out for the past two months, is a music video coming anytime soon?”

“We’ve actually gotten a lot of questions about this. The original footage for the video has been lost and we haven’t had the time to reshoot the music video yet. Although we should be able to do so soon. We just didn’t want to delay our fans that were waiting so patiently for our comeback.” Cleo spoke confidently, being the natural leader that she is, also having to have answered the question more than ten times already.

Cleo’s answer isn’t completely true. The video footage was lost, but they already refilmed it, she’s just saying what she was told to continue to say. The girl group knows when it’s going to be a release, it’s just going to be a surprise to the fans.

“I think that is great of you girls. I’m sure your fans will love it when you girls get around to it, won’t you guys?” The man questions the audience, causing the fans to cheer. Everyone on the stage laughs at the reactions of the fans. The four girls wave and blow kisses, loving their fans reactions.

“Is there an album in the works?”

“There is,”

The dancer confirms, a wide grin on her face. They, oddly enough, don’t get questions about an album. Of course, they do have albums out now, but no one asks if they are currently working on a new album. The ones that really only ask them are their fans during livestreams and on Twitter.

“How is it going?”

“We truly feel like this is going to be our best album so far. It’s almost completed but as you may know, our mini album actually drops in two weeks.”

“Is there anything special you girls are going to do for the mini album?” The female host asks, seeming truly interested in the questions that they are asking the girl group. The girls straighten up, feeling excited about the secret plans they have for the next few months ahead of them.

“Sadly, we can’t talk about that. Info will be released after our mini album drops.”

“Can we know the name of the mini album?”

“It’s called ‘Paradise’, a name we had sort of an argument over.” Laila releases, doing her best not to bounce in her seat from excitement. It’s the most Laila had participated in writing for an album before so she really can’t wait for its release to see what fans think. Bebe helped her too and she’s very thankful for it. She doesn’t write much, so it was great to be able to contribute to half of it. To her, this is her biggest accomplishment, even if the mini album only has five songs.

“Argument?” The male host raises his eyebrows, not expecting that at all. The girls nod their heads, already thinking about the dramatic argument they all had for the name of this mini album.

“Alright girlies, it’s mini album naming day!” Laila cheers, setting down the bag full of snacks onto the desk in the studio room. “Finally,” Indie groans in relief, shoving herself off the sofa to the desk to dig through the large bag of snacks.

“I say we should name it ‘Limitless’.”

“Limitless?” Laila repeats Cleo’s suggestion, a frown on her face. A sign that she obviously dislikes the name. “That doesn’t even fit with any songs on the mini album and all you can suggest is ‘Limitless’?”

“Maybe you should pull your head out of your ass. I don’t hear you making any suggestions.” Cleo grumbles, snatching a random snack from the bag before moving back to her position on the floor. Back against the wall and her legs stretched out.

Laila mocks her under her breath, not paying attention and basically tripping over Cleo’s legs as she makes her way over to the sofa to sit next to Indie. “Hey! Sit in a chair like a normal fucking person.”

“Chill out Laila,” Indie nudges the rapper, wondering why the girl is acting a bit ruder than what she usually is. Sighing, Bebe writes the name down in her notebook. “Well Indie suggested after you had left the name, ‘Youth’,” Bebe spoke, looking at the suggestion that she was told.

“It’s good, but not good enough.”

“Oh yeah? Then what name do you suggest huh?”

“Hmm…”

Laila taps her chin dramatically. The room is silent whilst everyone waits for the petite girl come up with a name better than the two previous suggestions. “Paradise.”

“Paradise?” Indie and Cleo repeat, staring at the rapper. In a way, the name does fit their mini album. It just suits it and while everyone is thinking that, Indie and Cleo are just too stubborn to admit it. They let out dramatic sighs, shaking their heads.

“And you said ours suck.”

“Yours was just terrible.”

Indie jokes while she fake pouts, opening a bag of chips. “Seriously? My name is better than the both of yours.” Laila states, opening the package of gummy bears, completely done with two of three of her members. The three members notice how upset Laila looks at Indie’s joke. The two that were messing with her feel a tad bit guilty.

“We’re only joking. Paradise it is.”

The rest of the interview continues to go by smoothly, the girls enjoying themselves more than they usually do during an interview. “Unfortunately we’re running out of time for this interview.” The male host announces, making the girls, the female host, and the audience makes an upset sound.

“It was a pleasure to interview you girls,” The female host says as everyone on the stage stands up. Everyone hugs each other, smiles on faces. “Thank you for having us.”

The girls wave to the fans before walking off the stage right as the hosts began to do their outros for the television show. All four of the girls have their drinks in hands as they are rushed backstage and to the dressing room. After their mics are stripped off of them, they are handed comfy looking clothing to change into before heading home.

“You girls did great out there.” Their manager spoke, startling the girls. They didn’t know he was back into the room with them. Their manager is nice, for the most part. He’s tall with jet black hair, sharp jawline, piercing eyes, and always wearing a suit. You never catch him out in public without a suit. Sabrina is standing next to him with a proud look on her face, agreeing with the manager.

“Thank you, sir.”

The girls watch everyone pile out of the room for the four girls to relax and change in peace. The car has to be pulled around back and the girls deserve to be able to take their time getting ready to head home. That’s exactly what they do, chatting amongst each other softly. None of them are in a rush to head out the doors to go home. It’s somewhat quiet when the staff knocks on the door to make sure the girls are changed before they come in and pack up their stuff.

“Girls, the car is here to take you home.”

“Thank you, we’ll be out in a second.”

The four girls make sure they have all of their belongings before leaving the dressing room with tired eyes and happy hearts. All of them are proud of how well they did today, maybe they'll have a mini celebration of ice cream and Netflix before parting ways to get some much-needed sleep.

“We did great today girlies, I love you.” Laila grins softly, making the other three members hug her, forming a much-needed group hug. They hug for a good minute before they separate and place their bags into the trunk of the car. Climbing into the car, all of them buckle in before eyes are closed and the four tired girls are falling asleep on the way home with music playing softly in the background.

#kkreationsnet #kpopwritingnet #bangtanwriters-net #boy group writers net #bts writing squad #sj:run #run:one #kim namjoon #namjoon #rap monster #bts namjoon #bts rap monster #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #bts fic

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lolainblue · 7 years ago

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Thunderbirds Chapter 20

t/w: language, very light smut

I called Jane every day after that. I waited until I was sure Jared was nowhere around to overhear and cause more grief but once I had managed to find some private time for those conversations they went on for hours. They were the best part of my day for the next week and a half. I found out a lot of things as we recapped the intervening seven years for each other.

My life had gone pretty much as predicted. I had dabbled in some other interests, but a focus had finally developed itself and music had become my everything. Once we really had the band together there had been a lot of late nights, road trips and seedy gigs but I had loved all of it. I liked being on the road, even when it was crazy and messy and unpredictable. Even when we had traveled in that crappy van and crashed on people's floors I had loved it. Jane was right. It was my thing and had been all along. It was only waiting for me to chase it.

The more Jane painted the picture of her past seven years the more I realized how much had changed with her. I had assumed since she was a published author that she had spent her time in school and writing. I had assumed since she had cried on the phone like her old marshmallow self that she was still my sweet Janey. But the more she talked, the more I began to get a different picture. Sure, she had started with the job and her degree, but then things had started taking turns. Roger's career had taken off once he moved to New York and when he was getting jobs in Europe Jane had begun going with him every chance she could. Her stories about those travels started with sights and museums and culture but gradually morphed into stories of people and wild parties. Angus, the “guy she met in a writing workshop”, apparently had quickly become a third spoke on their wheel, wilder even than Roger, dragging Jane off on adventures when Roger was busy working. He, of course, had his own resources, and once Jane completed her graduate degree they set themselves loose on the world. I began to understand what she meant when she said Angus's family was tired of the gossip column items. It was far from the picture I had painted in my head. I should have paid more attention to my research. I wondered just who was coming to meet me in Indianapolis.

Jared knew something was up. I was quieter than usual, slipping off for some time to myself whenever I could. I mostly avoided the after parties and road craziness. I had too much to think about. I guess he figured I was still pining away for Jane, which of course I was, but since as far as he knew she was long gone, he didn't pester me about it.

She had gotten a room in the same hotel we were staying at and checked in the night before. I had the room number. I knew she was waiting. I just had to slip away from everyone without them noticing. That proved harder to do than I anticipated when, as soon as we got to the hotel, Jared decided it was time for some sort of 'strategy meeting' or other such bullshit. Honestly, I didn't listen to half the shit he said when he started that stuff. We all had our jobs in the band and I knew he was going to end up handling the interviews and things anyway. When Jared finally shut up for a few minutes, Tomo pulled me aside.

“Go meet your girl, man,” he said with a sly grin. “I'll cover for you.”

I was confused. I hadn't told him anything about Jane. “How do you know about that?”

“About the fact she exists? Because I have ears and you and Jared argued about her for three days straight after you ran into her in Portland. About you meeting her here? Because you only ever check to be sure Jared's not around when you call her. I'm not stupid.”

I was liking our new guitar player more every day. “Thanks for keeping my secret.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He looked around the room quickly to check that Jared was still busy talking with our manager. “Get out of here before he notices. Just don't be late for the radio thing.”

The elevator ride up to her floor felt like it took four hours. I was alone in the small compartment and I paced nervously and drummed the walls the entire ride up. I still didn't know where her head was but I felt like if I could just be with her, if I could just get her to sit down with me, we could straighten this all out.

When I had run into Jane in that bookstore a month ago she had seemed content and cheerful. Well at least until Jared started his bullshit. The Jane that opened the door for me now, though she was smiling, seemed tired and fragile. I hoped that wasn't a bad sign. She invited me in, the small suite she had rented much nicer than my own. I wondered who was paying for it.

“It's good to see you again Shannon,” she said as we took a seat on the couch. “You look good.” She reached over and pulled her fingers through the blonde tips in my hair. “Not sure how I feel about this though,” she said with a smile.

“You look amazing,” I told her. She was dressed much more casually than she had been at the book signing, simple jeans and a tank top and her curls were back. She looked more like my Janey. I reached over and took her hands, looking for the huge engagement ring Jared had referred to but that I had never noticed when I saw her last. Although she had several rings on there was nothing that could be described as an engagement ring. That finger was empty. “Where's your engagement ring?”

She pulled her hand back. “I took it off. It didn't seem right to be wearing it when I'm meeting other men in hotel rooms.”

“You took it off. But you didn't break up with him.” Jane shook her head. “I thought ….”

“That I was going to dump a guy that has always been good to me, that is one of my best friends, over the phone from thousands of miles away over a guy I haven't seen in seven years?” she said indignantly.

Once again, I was only half thinking through things. Getting dumped over the phone by your fiancee would be pretty shitty and it was no wonder Jane was reluctant to end things that way. Assuming, that was, that she wanted to end things. “Does that mean you will call it off once you can see him again?”

She looked down at her legs, folded up on the sofa in front of her. “I don't know.”

Five minutes in and this wasn't going at all the way I wanted. “I thought you were going to give us a chance.”

“I am. I want to. I mean that's why I'm here.”

“How much of a chance are you really giving us though if you're keeping him in your back pocket?”

“It's complicated Shannon.” She reached over and twined her fingers into mine. “It's not like I don't have any feelings for him at all. I guess it took thinking about losing him to realize I felt more than I thought. And it's been so long since we were together, who knows if we still work....”

I pulled my hand back from her. “You always have an excuse when it comes to us, Jane. We hadn't been together very long, we didn't know each other, we've been apart... But I've known there was something different about you, about us, all along. You just have never been willing to give me a chance. Maybe I'm just kidding myself.”

“That's not fair. I took off my ring. I'm meeting you here.” She reached for me again. “I want to find us again, I do...”

“But I'm just supposed to sit in the background, be your little boy toy while you run off to get yourself your rich husband?” What I felt was so clear. I didn't understand why Jane was struggling.

She rolled her eyes. “Jesus do you have Angus and me all wrong.”

“Well, what is it then Jane? I'm going by the information you're telling me.” If I have it wrong there's only you to blame for that.”

Jane paused, seeming to search for the words she needed. “I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped wanting you back. That first year was really hard, the job was hard, Roger was busy and gone a lot, I didn't really make many friends, I was stressed out with school. I almost got on a plane and came back to you a dozen times. But I didn't. I didn't quit.” Of course she didn't. Jane was not a quitter. I was glad to hear she had thought of me, at least there was that. “I met Angus when I really needed a friend, and that's what he was to me,” she continued. “He was a lot of fun, he made me laugh, made me not take myself so seriously. He's a lot like Roger in that way. We've been through a lot together. A lot of fun and adventure, sure, but a lot of late nights and self-doubt too. I have more of a history with him than I do with you.”

I don't think she meant for that to hurt me but it twisted in my gut like a knife. “You could have had a history with me.”

“Yes, I could have. And who knows how different that life would look, for both of us.” Her voice softened, and she got that look in her eyes again, the one that told me my marshmallow was not far from the surface. “The thing is, even with all the history I have with Angus, and the little bit of time I have with you, it still all comes back to you in the end doesn't it? I spent a lot of years looking for you around every corner, wondering if that day was finally going to be the right time for us, if we were ever going to happen. I went over and over our time together, first just to hold on to you but then I began to really replay it. And I started to question it. I thought maybe I understood what we were. I told myself you were just an infatuation, that I hadn't really known you, I had just made up all the parts of you I didn't know in my head and turned you into this perfect guy. When I saw the videos, I just took it as confirmation I was right. I felt stupid. I had turned you into this cuddly puppy in my head and you were anything but. Then I saw you again. And I'm realizing the truth lies somewhere in the middle.”

She turned my palm over in her hand, her fingertips tracing up to the tattoos that were a new addition for her. “There's a lot about each other we don't know. But this thing between us is very real. I knew it when you hugged me in that bookstore. It never went away, it never got any less intense. If anything it's stronger than it ever was. So where does that leave me? I don't know.”

Yes, Jane was the one that was big with the speeches. Maybe it was the writer in her. I always seemed to surround myself with people who could do the talking for me. I really needed to find my own words now. “I spent a lot of time thinking about how it would be when we saw each other again too you know.” I began. “It was hard for me at first too. But after a while it was kind of nice knowing you were out there, doing your thing. Because you believed in me. You saw things in me that sometimes I think only Jared and my Mom see. And if you were out there, then that version of me was out there too. I had a bunch of copies of those pictures from the pier, and I was looking at one of them one day, and I wanted to tell you that. So I wrote it down on the back of a picture. Then I kept doing that, writing notes to you on the back of all these pictures I had. Things I wanted to say to you when I saw you again. I still have them, they're in a box in storage but they're just waiting to be read. You get a different part of me than the rest of the world gets.”

Jane was quiet for a minute while she stared at the floor. When she finally spoke again her voice was small, quiet. “I'm scared.”

I could understand that. There were lots of things to be afraid of at this point. I just didn't know which ones were plaguing Jane. “Of what?”

“Myself, a little bit. The crazy way you make me feel, like everything is a little out of control. I'm scared of what I could do in order to not lose that feeling again. I'm already thinking about throwing away a friendship that has carried me through a lot of hard, lonely periods. Because I'm sure if I do this, I'm going to lose Angus. To ask him to still be friends with me...”

I was getting really damn tired of hearing about Angus. “But you're not giving him up. He still has you and what, I get to be just some tawdry little affair until you get tired of me and run back to get your rich husband?”

Jane frowned. “You're more than that and you know it, Shannon.”

“Do I?”

“Oh for fuck's sake.” She threw her arms around my neck and crashed her lips into mine. Instantly I was grabbing her, pulling her into my lap as I clutched her against me as tightly as I could, my tongue opening those soft lips to me. She slipped her legs around my waist, her hair falling forward over our faces like a veil as we breathed into each other. I felt electric, finally connected to the power source I had been lacking. She tasted like coffee. She smelled like home.

When she finally broke the kiss she stayed pressed against me, her forehead resting on my own as she traced the lines of my face with her delicate fingers. My words were gone, I just closed my eyes and breathed her in. There was a tremor in her fingertips as she drew the pad of her thumb across my bottom lip.

“You could never be “just” anything to me,” she whispered, inhaling deeply. I pulled her tighter. I think I had needed her to smell me more than I had needed her to kiss me.

I threaded my fingers into the back of her hair, pulling her mouth back to mine. I would have stayed lost there for hours if I could, hearing her soft little whimpers as her tongue swirled against mine, but my phone started ringing and I knew I was being missed. Reluctantly I pulled back from Jane and answered. It was Tomo.

“Hey dude, he noticed you're gone. We've got to head out in ten anyways. Meet us in the lobby?”

“Yeah, I'll be right down,” I told him before hanging up.

I looked at Jane. “I have to go do this radio show thing. I didn't even ask what your schedule looks like. How much time are we going to have together?”

Jane smiled. “I finished everything here this morning. And I have a week off. I was going to go visit my brother but my nieces have strep throat so I thought, maybe....” she trailed off, a shy smile on her lips. My grin was anything but shy at that news.

“You can follow us for a week! That would be amazing!” Oh shit. Jared. But he was going to find out sooner rather than later anyway. I disentangled myself from Jane and got up from the couch. “We can work out the details when I get back tonight.”

Jane followed me to the door, and we lingered there for several more minutes, raining kisses on each other before I finally slipped out of the room. I smiled all the way to the elevator. I was happier than I had been in ages. I had forgotten all about Angus.

@msroxyblog @nikkitasevoli @maliciousalishious @meghan12151977 @snewsome756

#shannon leto fanfiction #shannon leto fic #thunderbirds #jared leto fanfiction

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ourpickwickclub · 7 years ago

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Part One ML / GR related Asks.. read at your own risk. We are not always going to put the ML and GR stuff under a cut, but since it has taken over our inbox temporarily, here are some Asks we’ve read but haven’t answered yet. Some good points and funny stuff in here. - F5

Anonymous said: Ok I watch them sing GGMY back in may 2015. I can't believe that twatwaffle sang the last part of that song looking him straight in the eye. I actually feel bad for their fans They didn't see them ever divorcing so they were in shock. Now If it had been released that she was whoring around on B things would be a lot diff. The fans that still want them together would not say that if they confirmed what she did and hurt him so badly. 90% of them would support B & now be happy seeing him with G.

Anonymous said: I would love to know little more about shane. And I would love to know what he is thinking last night. He, of course, is a nashville guy and I have seen him tweet lots of supportive things recently about ML. At the time I knew he also worked w/B and kind of wondered what he really thinks. I wonder if this is his first time around G. Surely he had some exposure to Bs bad times, esp since he is in w/Brandon and Scott. To be a fly on the wall!! Weird to go back and be around ML again after this.

Anonymous said: Is it wrong of me to always grin like a Cheshire Cat every time I think of the reaction ML must have had when Blake announced he had sat on 'A Guy With A Girl' for a couple of years cuz he just wasn't 'feeling it'? 😂😂😂😂 God forgive me...🙏🏼😳😏

Anonymous said: Can we move past the whole make up thing? I'm not talking about just today. I'm talking about for all time. It's one of those pointless arguments. They both wear make up and the RatF's started it thing is sooooo old we aren't in 7th grade. You don't have to but to me, it falls into the whole Boozy Blake Bull Crap talk. We know its not true so its not discussed anymore.

Anonymous said: ML states in article not a heartbreak Album. Then plays heartbreak card ever chance she gets. Well if she's in so much pain I guess AE ain't cutting it. This is all posturing. Trying to clean up her image. How about telling her to stop bar hopping in Nashville or being crappy to fans. That might help. Wait. No it won't. Narcissistic sociopath.

Anonymous said: Looks like ML is trying to be more high fashion in her BB shoot. Not her usual tshirt and denim stuck between 10 dogs. Hope it's not a case of trying to keep up with Stefani cause little girl is way out of her farm league.

Anonymous said: I am starting to think that B and G exes are the same person. One that went: I don't want to talk about the divorce, listen to my record, then proceeded to talk about it in the next sentence. And then filled the rest of their interviews with their garbage 'philosophical' takes on lives. 🙄🙄🙄

Anonymous said: That ML Billboard article is pathetic. Still using Blake to try and prop up poor sales. It's been 2 years, it's just embarrassing for her now to still be all about the divorce. Even HollywoodLife is calling her on it. embarrassing for AE 2.She obviously can't handle that Blake has won. Petty. I'm so proud of how B and G handled the situation. They were treated so badly, they told their truth without dragging anyone unnecessarily and then just left it behind and lived happily ever after. Classy.

Anonymous said: Oh God I really want to stop talking about the exes, but they are making it really difficult, don't they? The latest e news headline, so she is blaming Blake now for not being able to write songs while living in OK? Must they put their names together in the headline? Oh yeah, I guess no one's gonna click if it's only her name on it.

Anonymous said: Miranda Lambert will always been know as Blake Shelton's ex wife, harsh fact for Ran fans. In every magazine she does this will always be mentioned because Blake is the bigger star.. I'm a tan fan by the way who loves Shefani.

Anonymous said: Do you think one of the kids asked GR last night. "Dad, where are all the people?" "Is this a fundraiser like the one you did at our school?" They've never been to a show with Blake that there wasn't a minimum of 20-30k people attending. ( ML anon. See this is an equal opportunity place we torch both exes. Not just ML. Lol. Btw all in good fun)

Anonymous said: I think the media will NEVER stop using the ex names and the divorce. We just give attention to G/B but they do it with everybody. Look at J Anistion, its more than 10 years and she still associates with Brad. 🙁

Anonymous said: One can bar certain specific Qs from being asked in interviews. Celebs do it all the time for controversial issues. M can do the same but no,she has to talk about him and throw pity party and ofc she would only Ans the Qs abt divorce when it's being asked otw she'll come out as desperate. If she wants, she can notify them for not asking divorce or Blake related Q. She is not innocent. I still can't believe she has done vile things like taking pics with nasty fans and talking ill abt OK. Sick 😷!

Anonymous said: So can we conclude that M is way worse than rat? I mean rat gives creepy, stalkerish vibes for still following Gwen in some ways but M 😒. She's another animal. She wants revenge from Blake cz he moved on from her. She has this possessive, ownership kinda thing with Blake. I don't know if she still wants him but she sure wants everyone to feel that she is innocent and Blake is a prototype of typically deceiving ex-husband. I simply hate 😠. Why can't she live in peace and let Blake do the same?

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sickficsbypyroyoshi · 7 years ago

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Pyro’s archived fics #1: Carl gets carsick

Hey guys, long time no post. I apologize for neglecting this blog. I’ve finally got not just a job but a career (electrician, and I’m really enjoying it), plus I’ve been working on a lot of other creative projects that aren’t related to sick fics at all. Financially I haven’t been doing so great, but now that I’ve got a better job, that’ll change. I still haven’t completed any new sick fics, as I just don’t have as much time as I used to.

So, I’ll try holding you over by posting a series of puke without plot stories I wrote in the past. Like my newer stories, their all OC centric, there won’t be any fan fiction. Here’s the first.

Carl bit his lip as his stomach clenched in anticipation. Not because he was sick, but because he was both extremely exited and a little nervous.

He was exited because tonight he was going to see Nile, his favorite band, live for the fourth time. Each time he saw them, the experience was better and more mind blowing. In his opinion, they were some of the most talented musicians in modern technical death metal, and few bands put as much effort into their work as they did. Tonight they would be playing a double set, which was guaranteed to be twice the epicness.

The nervousness came from the fact that he had been given the opportunity to meet and interview George Kollias, the drummer for Nile. He wasn’t a journalist, nor did he want to be, but this was a once in a lifetime chance that he couldn’t pass up. He just hoped he wouldn’t say something incredibly stupid during the interview or do something else to make an ass out of himself in front of his musical prodigy.

Apparently, his friend Danica knew Nile’s tour manager, and she had secured a pre show interview with George. She and Carl hadn’t seen each other in a few months, but they were close friends, like brother and sister almost, as he had been the first person she called.

Carl’s iphone buzzed, and he got a text from Danica saying that she would be at his house in approximately ten minutes. All he’d really need were his iphone and his wallet, and since he had both of those things, he made sure his outfit was appropriate. He wasn’t a very high maintenance guy, as he had thrown it on in about a minute. A Nile tour shirt from last year, black pants, and his work boots. He considered putting on a hat, but decided that would be stupid, because it would come off anyway.

Content with his look, he waited outside for Danica to show up. She had a tendency to always be a few minutes late, but there was more than enough time. It was a little past two in the afternoon, and the show didn’t start until eight.

It was at Station 4 in St. Paul, so it would be a long drive from his currently location of Fergus Falls. He had lived in St.Paul last year, but couldn’t keep his apartment since he was unable to find a decent job due to the crappy economy. Thus, he was currently living with his parents at age twenty three. Not that it was a bad thing, as he knew plenty of people older than him who still lived at home. He just didn’t like living so far from the cities.

He didn’t know what kind of car she would be driving, but he hoped that it had a good air conditioning system, as it was a hot day. It was very humid and had to be near ninety degrees, as he had only been outside for a few minutes, yet he already felt like he was sitting in an oven.

Sure enough, Danica was about five minutes late. At about two thirty, she pulled up in an old nineties Toyota and waved from the window.

Carl got up and excitedly bound towards the car.

“Hey you, it’s been to long. What’s going on?” Danica asked him eagerly when he got in. Before he could answer, she jumped at him from across the seats to give him a bear hug.

“Take it easy, it’s only been four months, you act like you haven’t seen me in years.” Carl smirked.

“It felt like years.” Danica pouted.

“Oh come on, you know I missed you too.” Carl squeezed her shoulder. He knew that she liked him as more than a friend, though he didn’t return those feelings. It’s not that Danica was an unattractive girl, she definitely wasn’t. In fact, she was fairly good looking. She was average bodied, with blue eyes and dark hair cropped into a 1920’s flapper girl style bobcut. Like Carl, she was clad in a Nile tour shirt, though hers was a little older. No, he simply didn’t return those feelings because he thought of her as a sister. Dating her would be too risky, as if they broke up, the friendship would suffer.

As Danica started the car, Carl looked around the interior. It was definitely dated, as it still had a working cigarette lighter in the control panel. It did have a modern touch in that the CD player had been ripped out in favor of an MP3 player and ipod dock.

“I’ve got to ask, what’s with the old car?”

“It was my cousin’s. She gave it to me after she got a brand new mini van. Why she got that thing, I’ll never know, as its a vehicular eyesore. Anyway, we have a long drive ahead of us. It’ll probably take about four hours to get there, so we’ll have plenty of time to get something to eat along the way.” she informed.

“Sounds good to me.” Carl said. However, as exited as he was, he didn’t really like spending many hours inside of a car. He had been prone to motion sickness as a kid, and one particular incident stuck out in his mind. When he was ten, he went with his parents and siblings on a road trip to Canada, and had gotten carsick on the way. Eventually, he had puked on his younger brother and sister, which in turn made both of them puke as well. He had stopped getting carsick around thirteen, so he knew he didn’t have anything to worry about. Pushing those thoughts out of his head, he hooked his ipod up to the dock.

“I think some preparation is in order.” he had every Nile album on his ipod, but was undecided as to which song to play.

“Oh! Play Unas, Slayer Of the Gods!” Danica suggested.

“Good idea. I was just thinking about playing that one.” Carl highlighted it on his ipod and turned the volume way up.

The two of them proceeded to thrash along to the music and snarl the vocals. Or tried, in Danica’s case. The sad truth is that women’s vocal chords just aren’t made to produce such sounds.

People in other cars stared at them like they had a disemboweled hooker in the backseat, but they didn’t care. After they had been driving for about forty five minutes, they decided to stop and get something to eat at a Noodles & Company.

Carl wasn’t terribly hungry, as he strangely still felt a bit full from lunch, which he had over two hours ago. This wasn’t normal for him, but he shrugged it off, as he wasn’t the type to turn down food.

He had the pesto cavatappi sans mushrooms, and Danica had the pad thai. They conversed about various things as they consumed their food, catching up with each other in the process.

They both decided to get refills on their drinks before they left. Since there was a considerable line in front of the touch screen soda machine, they had to wait a few minutes.

After they both got some more Coke, they were all set. Once they were on the road again, the music resumed, as did the casual bantering.

About half an hour later, they were on the freeway, but as luck would have it, a massive traffic jam had formed. Apparently, there had been an accident several miles up, and traffic had ground to a near halt, with cars bumper to bumper further than the eye could see.

Danica scowled at the vibrant orange electronic road sign, which displayed how long they should expect to wait. “You’ve got to be kidding. There’s miles of this? That sucks.”

Carl didn’t pay very much attention to her ranting. He felt bloated and uncomfortably full, which was odd since he hadn’t even eaten all of his food. The seatbelt felt extremely tight, almost like it was firmly squeezing his torso, so he fidgeted with it in an effort to loosen it. His effort was in vain, as it snapped back in place, bringing more discomfort as it did so. Not only that, but the sweltering heat was beginning to get to him. Even though Danica’s window was all the way down, the car was incredibly stuffy, and he was beginning to feel a slight twinge of nausea.

“Can you turn on the AC?” he asked.

“I’m afraid not. Sorry, but this car is a hunk of crap. The AC is pretty much shot and the passenger window only rolls down halfway.” Danica said.

Figuring that was better than nothing, Carl rolled his window down as far as it would go. It did nothing to lessen the humidity, but it did let in even more exhaust since the traffic jam was still in full swing.

Normally exhaust didn’t bother him, but it wasn’t exactly making things better. The small twinge of nausea he felt increased slightly. Not by much, but just barely enough to cause him to notice. Another twenty minutes passed before the jam lightened, and they were on their way once more. Even though they were now cruising along at seventy five miles per hour with both windows down as far as they could go, Carl still felt hot, bloated, and a little sick. He wasn’t terribly concerned, as he was sure it would pass before too long. However, as the minutes went by, the unpleasant feelings remained the same. He wasn’t feeling much worse, but he wasn’t feeling better either.

Danica seemed to take notice of this, as she turned down the music and glanced over at him. “You’ve gotten quiet. Are you alright?” she asked.

“I don’t feel so good. It’s probably just the heat.” Carl said.

“Yeah, it is pretty stuffy in here. At least we’re halfway there.” Danica reassured. “Maybe some Rotting Christ will take your mind off it.” she stopped the song that was currently playing and put on Rotting Christ’s A Dead Poem album.

Carl sat back and tried to focus on the music. Usually hearing his favorite songs always helped when he had a cold or a respiratory flu, but it wasn’t helping much now. His confidence that the feeling would pass was beginning to wane, and he felt hotter than ever. He noticed that he was sweating, and his shoulder length hair was adhering to the sides of his face. Since his window only rolled down a few inches, he was denied any possibility of cool air.

“I think we need some ice cold water. That might help reduce the heat just a little.” Danica offered. “We can stop at the next town.”

“How far is it?”

“Uh, to be honest, I have no idea. Sorry.”

Not liking that information, Carl wordlessly looked out the window. He tried to distract himself from the growing pain and queasiness in his stomach by attempting to count how many cows were in each pasture they drove by. His thoughts drifted from the cows to the BBQ pulled pork sandwiches he’d had for lunch, and he could almost taste them. Usually he relished the thought, but at the moment the mere thought of food made him feel sicker.

All he saw outside was grass and cows, which kept reminding him of food. Every time he thought about it, he felt just slightly worse. This continued until he was experiencing full blown nausea. He shifted positions, facing the side and resting his head on the window, but it did nothing to help.

“Do you still feel sick?” Danica asked.

Carl nodded. “I feel considerably worse.”

“Just lay back and shut your eyes. Try to sleep. If you need me to pull over, tell me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Silence fell over the car as Danica unhooked the ipod. Carl leaned back against the headrest and shut his eyes, attempting to fall asleep. He must have dozed off somehow, as sometime later he was awakened by Danica prodding him. It was then he noticed they were stopped at a gas station.

“You’ve been asleep for awhile.” Danica said, presenting him with a cold bottle of water.

As he became fully awake, the nausea came back full swing, and worse than ever. He was about to inform Danica of this, but she was already pulling out of the parking lot and speeding down the road.

Hoping the water might quell the sickly feeling, Carl opened the bottle and took a sip. So far, so good. A few small sips didn’t seem to hurt. He took a larger swig and regretted it immediately, as his stomach churned in protest. He grimaced, put the water in the cup holder and shut his eyes again. He hadn’t felt this bad in several years, as not only did he feel sick and a little dizzy, he could feel everything he ate earlier moving around inside of him.

All the excitement he had felt earlier had evaporated, and he was having second thoughts about this whole thing, especially the interview. He’d let Danica do it instead, because the last thing he wanted was to throw up in front of George Kollias. Or even worse, on him. Then what would happen? Would he get escorted out by security? Would he start a chain reaction? He didn’t want to find out, but the terrifying thoughts came anyway. He imagined himself puking on George, who would puke on Danica, who would puke on someone else, until every single person in the building either was or was on the verge of puking.

His thoughts were interrupted as he felt a wave of really intense nausea wash over him, causing him to sit up with a start. As he did so, he saw that they had arrived in the cities, and were driving through uptown Minneapolis.

After a few seconds, it seemed to be subsiding. Figuring he’d make it after all, he deemed it safe to have a little more water. He’d only downed two gulps when it hit him again, even stronger this time.

Carl sat strait up, feeling the acid begin to crawl up his widening throat. “Danica, stop the car, I’m going to puke!” he said with urgency in his voice.

Danica’s eyes widened. “Oh shit! I can’t stop here, we’re in the middle of an intersection. Look for a bag or something.” she said.

As much as he wanted to, Carl felt too sick to move, and there was so much pressure in his belly that he knew he was only a few seconds from exploding. He felt the car jolt to a start again as Danica peeled out of the intersection to find a suitable place to pull over, but she wasn’t quick enough.

Carl clamped his hand over his mouth in a futile effort to hold it in, but he retched and felt warm puke start to run through his fingers. The second retch was the one that did it. He couldn’t hold it back anymore and forcefully threw up all over the inside of the door, sending it splashing onto the window, dashboard, and himself.

The car screeched to a stop beneath an underpass, and he flung the door open and leaned out halfway. Before he could even yank the seatbelt off, Carl heaved again, producing a torrent of chunky brown liquid. It spread out over the pavement, forming a pool.

He realized that Danica was leaning over him, as he felt her gather his hair in one hand and hold it back out of his face, while she massaged his back with her free hand. He wanted to thank her for doing that, but was in no position to speak. His stomach contracted and he brought up two more voluminous waves, then he used the small gap between heaves to catch his breath before puking again. It still had lots of solids, as he could make out fragments of pulled pork, pesto cavatappi, and whatever else he had eaten. Since it hadn’t had time to digest fully, the taste wasn’t as sour or acidic as he expected it to be.

The heaving ceased for a couple seconds, but Carl still felt very sick. He didn’t move quite yet, as he figured he probably wasn’t done. His head was spinning, so he squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the rest to come up. About ten seconds later, his whole body convulsed and he continued puking. Another sizable wave came up, followed by two smaller ones and a dry heave. No more appeared to be forthcoming after that, so he spat out the lingering string, wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand and slumped back into the car.

Danica caressed his shoulder. “Are you going to be okay?” she asked, concern evident.

“I guess so, but I still feel sick.” Carl said. As he recuperated, he realized the extent of the damage.

There was puke all over the door, on the window, dripping into the cracks, and streaking down the dashboard. The car hadn’t been the only victim, as he had also gotten it all over his shirt and right hand.

Danica furrowed her brows as she took in the sight. “It looks like a murder scene in here. But don’t worry about it, just wipe off what you can, I can get it professionally cleaned tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Carl inquired.

Danica nodded and fished around in the backseat until she found a travel pack of kleenexes. “You’ll have to use these.”

Carl took them and wiped off as much of the puke as he could, dropping the tainted tissues outside into the pool on the ground. When he was done with that, he climbed into the backseat and laid down for the remainder of the drive.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at Station 4 and were lucky enough to find a good parking spot. A long queue of people waiting in line stretched from the front doors down the block. Since they had RSVP tickets, they could bypass the line and go right in.

“How are you feeling? A little better?” Danica asked.

“Still shitty. This isn’t going to go well, I just know it.” Carl replied. Even so, he joined his friend outside, and the two of them walked towards the venue.

He started feeling uneasy again as they neared the door. In addition to still feeling queasy and knowing he’d probably be due for a repeat performance, all the nervousness he felt earlier came rushing back. Even though he was about to meet the man who inspired him to start playing the drums, his instinct told him it wasn’t going to end well.

#emetophilia #puking #my ocs #carsick #sickfic

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norman-reedus-gossip · 8 years ago

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Last Bulk and its a long one

~~mod~~ everything else concerning this topic will be kicked to the modblog. ill try to add to the comments today. i feel like i got ran over so i may not be on at all. sorry for slacking on you and for probably being a world class asshole today. please keep it medium.

Anon: What kind of woman ALLOWS “her boyfriend” to make her hideout so she’s not seen with him? What kind of man DOES that? Be happy for them all you want. I think they look and act like morons. As “adorable ” as people think he is , he seems lately like a total douchebag. Good thing all the fucking booze he consumes gives him the balls to “allow” her be photographed with him. And how fucking desperate does one have to be to let themselves be treated like that? Typical Hollywood. I give this a week.

Anon:Okay, NOW do you think he will make an announcement on Jimmy Fallon about DK? Or that Jimmy will mention it? ~~mod~~ dont know dont care. as long as we get some couch action im good.

Anon:No new stories talk about the trip to italy right before dk dumped pacey. They dont talk about how long nr knew pacey before sky. Wonder how much that cost

Anon:I’m so sad mod….. 😢 Twd’s cast are finally coming to my country and i thinks that is very hard for they bring Norman because he is very expensive…. I mean, Norman is so rich, why he charge that much??! 😢😢 (Sorry for the english) ~~mod~~ aww maybe its not the money but more if he has time. where are they coming? you english is awesome

ahauntedfool: My two cents. I feel badly for disappointed fans who have invested so much time, energy, and possibly even money, on their beloved celebrity, only to see him acting in a way they do not agree with. That must be very hard for them. Maybe I can offer some hope and positivity?I believe no two relationships are alike, and none are black and white. Who really knows everything about their relationship besides them? But it does seem like they are together, and if that is the case I hope they make each other happy. I truly mean that. Love is not something we can plan for, but life is short and happiness is everything. I am still a fan of N, I enjoy many of his films and photographs, his charisma is pleasing, he makes me laugh and he makes me smile. There are some things I don’t like about him, but that’s how it is with people. We are all complex and flawed individuals, and in our imperfections there is beauty. I don’t know much about D yet, but I think I’ll check out her work, watch a few of her films and read some interviews. Maybe I’ll learn something about her that inspires me in some way. With that being said, I think they are an attractive couple, and I love seeing him smile like that. They appear happy in those photos and I hope they are. Maybe this relationship will be good for both of them. Oftentimes we learn from our partners how to be better people.

Anon: Wait for the other shoe to drop on fallon, the baby shoe, lol. He has an extra 0 on his paycheck now, so dk can stay in ny and give up her career while nk goes to ga and cons to keep her in designer duds and pap shots shopping and fashion shows. She can laugh with jdms wife about ppl who pay $$$$ to wait in line for a pic, and we get crappy cgi on twd ~~mod~~ come on the deer really wasnt that bad, if you squint it almost looked real

awesomebrokenheartuniverse: What the fucking fuck??? This is beyond baffling. The public make out session. Even as a teenager I didn’t make out on the street for 30 min. They clearly wanted to be seen. Have we been fooled by NR with some fake persona all these years? Has he drastically changed due to DKs influence? Is he whipped? Is he tired of keeping it a secret and overjoyed to let it all hang out? Does she have dirt on him and forcing this on him (sounds crazy but ya never know)? Is this a juvenile shit show for publicity to benefit both of them? So many questions! Maybe it’s not our business but when they flaunt themselves like this they are kinda asking for it. This is like reality show in your face over the top attention whoring. I feel embarrassed for them. At least she is age appropriate. I don’t know a lot about DK, but the opinions here are largely unfavorable. JJ seems like a decent guy. Why would he stick with her 10 yrs if she’s such bad news? I keep remembering a quote from AL where he said something like “the longer I know N, the more he is an enigma.” NR seems totally all over the place to me right now.

Anon: There’s a video of them kissing now. ~~mod~~ ok

Anon: Hey mod! Sorry to keep adding to this but I’m SO aggravated. Now she’s acting like CS posting pics from his apartment. An her fans are saying to stop bringing up Norman an respect her privacy to people. She doesn’t want privacy! Hence the photo! An the photos taken of them on the street the other night for a hour. If I’m w/ my bf I dont stop and post on SM things from his house. She wants everyone to know she finally got Norman. When will this “relationship” end 😭 personally he deserves better

Anon: Why would Norman be so open about his relationship? This PDA doesn’t fit to him, he never showed so much of his relationship, making out on the street, like in the video it looks like they were making a show. They just stood in the same street walked around kissed hugged just to make a show for the pap, my guess they called him, don’t know why

Anon: Re: the “lie.” Doesn’t it look like Norman’s reps said “friends” because of JJ? Timeline: Pic of Norman and DK at the car looking friendly with story about vacation. Rep said “friends.” Weeks later: picture of JJ kissing and snuggling with another woman at a restaurant. Stories: He’s moved on!! Two - three days later, Norman/DK are completely public. The “lie” was so JJ could say he moved on first. It had nothing to do with manipulating Norman’s fans. Anon: Daily mail has just released an article on NR and DK confirming their relationship and they’ve got a few new pics in there and in one of them NR is looking directly at the camera. I guess we know for sure it was planned and a bit staged now.

Anon: Mod - this was an absolute publicity stunt but I don’t understand why. It makes him look like the biggest possible lying fake asshole alive so why would he want that image? I’m secretly hoping this is some kind of early April Fools day joke.

Anon: Mod when do you think NR and DK became more than just friends? ~~ mod~~ would you be offended if i said i have no idea becasue i dont care enough about them as a couple to even guess. sorry if i sound like a jerk im still not feeling well

Anon: I hope Norman doesn’t think we’re just going to “get over it”? It doesn’t work that way. There is a difference between lying about who you ARE and just simply having a girlfriend. (I won’t even go into how fake SHE is) You Lied to the people that supported you Norman. This isn’t just jealous fangirls. This doesn’t just go away in a few weeks.~~mod~~ im sure he knows it isnt just gonna go away in a few days

Anon: Woke up today with tears in my eyes. Every day I used to go check out all he cool Norman/Daryl fan art on instagram. Now I can’t even look at him.~~mod~~ dont cry anon we can find you someone else to look at.

Jan: Listen up To those deeply upset and disturbed by Norman’s recent actions, please read this - Nothing in your life has actually changes NOTHING! You still breath the same air, work at the same place, hang with the same friends and are surrounded by people that love and care about you in REAL LIFE. You have never, nor will you ever, know the real man behind Norman Reeds and thats probably for the best. All that has happened is that the fantasy you have of him in your head is altered, but you have the power and control to change that narrative back at any point, back to thinking he is kind and sweet and honourable and all the other things that gave you comfort and joy, use him for whatever purpose you want - because I have news for you as a fan/consumer of his brand he is just USING you. He is clever, he will smile and be nice as pie if you are paying for his time, (he is a professional actor), what he is actually like once the show is over, behind closed doors, is probably a very different story that really would shock and upset you. He is part of an ugly dark industry and his values are probably way off the mark to what any of us would consider acceptable. The clues are all around us, the fake hollywood friends he has, the partying showbiz life he leads, his love of attention and the limelight, the blind after blind about his shitty behaviour. It does upset me to see people defending him with the best of intentions, when they have no clue that he doesn’t deserve defending, he is surrounded by wealth and privilege and I highly doubt he cares one bit what faceless avatars on the internet say about him when he is home surrounded by his millions of dollars and fake narcissistic hollywood friends. Me, I love Daryl and I will always love Daryl, he is a real sweetheart and the subject of many a fantasy, Norman not so much, I could never fantasise about someone like him -a shallow and highly privileged actor who can have any beautiful woman he desires at the drop of a hat, and knows it. His priorities are clearly material things, this set up relationship with DK that will be played out in the public eye will just be linked to and part of that agenda in some weird way…(I do have my theories as to why he is so keen to play along with it, but best kept to myself) So seriously people go back to your Daryl (or nice sweet Norman) fantasises… Whatever helps you sleep at night…

Anon: You know what’s even worse than finding out he’s a lying sneaking jerk? That he let her troll his fandom for the whole year. He let us try to defend him the whole time when it was all true. It just shows that his fans don’t really mean anything to him. He didn’t care that she was playing with us and mocking us. It’s just so unbelievable that he is the complete opposite of what he made us believe.

Anon: sorry but I feel betrayed. And before I get jumped on it’s not jealousy or that he can’t have a private life, it’s about thinking one thing about Norman and admiring that person for so long then suddenly finding out that it was all a lie. He made us think that he was our friend but he’s not. he’s laughing at us behind the scenes watching how we buy into the image that he made us think was the real him. it’s not him now. he’s a phony. anyone want walker stalker tickets? don’t want to meet him now ~~mod~~ no need to be sorry anon lots of people are feeling all kinds of way right now. i hear craiglist is a great place to sell those

Anon: God Mod it just breaks my heart to see how fake he looks. Allowing himself to be papped is something I never thought he would do. I admired Norman for being down to earth and real. Where is that man now? He’s gone. He sold out. He’s not who he claims to be. Honest? Lol nope. So this is the real Norman we have been tricked into supporting? He looks just as fake as we know she is. It’s so sad and disheartening and I never thought it would happen to him. He’s just like all the rest. :( So sad.

Anon: Wonder how this will work when he starts filming in May will she go to Georgia she doesn’t seem the country girl

Anon: Mod why do think NR’s reps have the statements that they were “just friends” 3 weeks ago only for them to walk done the street holding hands and kissing now? Do you think NR’s reps didn’t know about the relationship? Or he didn’t consult with them before going public? Or do you think it was all planned? I’m just really confused about the whole thing!

Anon: Sorry…this is a long one… People seem to focus on others being upset because he lied. But I think a lot of people are upset for 2 main reasons. One, they really don’t like DK. It is hard to swallow watching someone you like, date someone you hate. I had a good guy friend date a girl that the rest of us LOATHED. She was just a horrible person and we were all so disappointed when he started dating her. When we asked him why, he just replied, “well, she is not like that towards me”. Um..ok…so since she’s “nice” to you, it’s ok that she is a a-hole to everyone else? It lasted all of 4 months, but I just remember we were all so disgusted. So, anyway, I think that plays a big part in the fan hate. Fans love Norman and think he is wonderful/nice/kind/good to his friends and fans and they can’t understand how he could fall for someone who is the opposite of all those things. The second reason is the cheating. Let’s face it, this didn’t start AFTER she split from JJ. We would be naive to believe that. Personally, I think it started during the filming of SKY. They are together constantly, in the middle of nowhere, I am sure they got very close. Even if there was nothing physical, they could have been having an emotional affair…which is often worse than physical. Although we can argue that with his schedule and her being with JJ, they didn’t actually see each other a lot after filming SKY was over, they still could have been texting and calling, thereby continuing the connection and closeness that was formed during filming. Looking back, I can’t help but wonder if someone DID see them hooking up in a NYC bar (before the break-up with JJ). If they did in fact have an emotional connection, add a lot of alcohol to that and you can definitely lose control for a minute. Obviously, this is my own speculation, but no matter when the physical aspect of their relationship developed, I truly believe, the affair started long before it. As for the people talking about a possible pregnancy. I can see it. Even though Norman is pushing 50 and may not want a baby, as some people pointed out, it may not be up to him. There are many ways for a woman to “accidentally” get pregnant. Someone, I think it was PR wife, mentioned that DK’s star faded long ago. She is definitely someone who will do anything to bring attention to herself. Well, having NR’s baby would certainly bring the spot light. It may be far fetched but I think DK is really sketchy and I would not put it past her. I guess only time will tell if there is a baby as well as how long this thing will last. We shall see…

Anon:I gave a heads up months ago that Diane had a plan and that she and Norman were playing out a fantasy as if they were living their film “Sky”. Health issues included. But guess what comes next (not the end) ;)

Stephanie Kumke: Maybe it´s not DK in the photo, but come on, a naked bully with lights on it with the message “ Waking up to good News”… ~~mod~~ maybe she got a job that wasnt in Europe

Anon: Ya’ll need to be realistic. Daryl isn’t the cash cow of TWD anymore. Not sure if no one sees this but the ratings last week dropped. Why weren’t they higher? I mean Daryl was in it a lot yet they weren’t as good as the week before. I’ve noticed whenever Carol and the Kingdom are on the ratings go up. Seems like she’s more of a cash cow now. She makes more viewers tune in. So I really don’t get when people say Daryl is the No 1 cash cow. It’s not true. It may have been years back, but not anymore

Anon: It disgusts the shit out of me when I see people support their relationship and are happy and even say DK is gorgeous. Wtf NOTHING on this woman is gorgeous. She’s manipulative, attention whore and snobby. I can’t believe his fans (not all of them) support her. She’s the worst nightmare. Norman went down to her level. She is unsympathetic to fans, Norman clearly isn’t the man he claimed to be. Not sure if I’m more disappointed or disgusted because he played all of us the whole time for his image

Anon: I think some people are not getting it…NR didnt own anyone anything but he was not coherent and yeah he deceived and lied when he said he doesn’t like cheaters and loves honest people. Regardless of course he have the right to date who the fuck he wants. not my problem. now the way he did it, for someone that calls himself honest is very questionable when you can see CLEARLY how this pics were staged. When you stage pics like that and you claimed for years being the opposite of course people are going to question who you are and who was the person they have been a fan off all this years. People defended him exactly from this behavior. People defended him when people called him sell out and asshole and manwhore and honestly he just proves the others right. This have nothing to do with DK this have to do with him as a person and how he carries himself. He didnt assume her before because he was sticking his dick somewhere else too and the other kick him to the curb.

dandelioncherokee : Interesting. Norman and Diane are not looking AT EACH OTHER in one single picture. A loving couple would do that ALL THE TIME. One word. FAKE. I honestly haven’t got a clue WHY ALL THIS. Oh Norman,you had it going all good for you.Now I can only pray that the universe will give you another chance,so you can try to fix this. Kisses to you,mod ❤️hope you are alright.~~mod~~ i feel like i got kicked down 10 flights of stairs.. you flirting makes me feel better

Anon: I was just thinking about the happy anniversary post and the ‘comment’. Turns out the DK part of that was true and it makes me wonder how many of the other parts were also true. Maya Angelo said when people show you who they are, believe them the first time. Eyes opened, I get it now and I’m just here for wicked gifs, and weird banter. Good things always come from bad, you’re the good thing Mod.

Anon: Pic look good, his fans on ig congrat to him so lol. Congrat to him too. We know here it so far from jealous but it is about who is this guy. Why he won’t hint their relationship at all.jdm said I think he’s single. So he happy it’s foiod but it different story from why he lid like liar, completely behave another and then be another man. And I didn’t see any pic that he look at her face. He smile to ppl. Wake up idiot fans! ~~mod~~ Please dont call fans idiots we all have our opinion

Anon: Another blog says they KNOW that Norman and DK were a thing since Sky. They supposedly have a source but won’t reveal it, they’re also saying no one knows if cheating was involved because no one knows the status of DK and JJ’ relationship. DK moved to NYC in late 2015 to be with JJ AFTER sky was finished. They bought a home together in LA in early 2016. So if her “source” is correct than yes, they were cheating all along, which makes the dec 2015 rumor seem not so false. They’re disgusting

Anon: Who knows…Maybe they both have an agreement? Maybe he agreed to help her with her image by doing this. He may think what’s the harm in helping a friend?? I am soooooo not on her side…I’m just trying to ration it out. Unfortunately we may never know. I still haven’t seen pics of them full on kissing. That one pic where they’re close looks like he was lighting a smoke. Hand holding? Even friends do that. He seemed pretty drunk anyway. Ugh and her IG? Tries to be like N & HC. UMM no.

Anon: Thinking if the 2 of them together makes me so ill but hey…He’s a big boy. I’ve been going thru the stages of grief (as stupid as that may sound) and I don’t regret smashing my DVD copy of Sky! Didn’t much like it anyway lol now I’m past the anger and just sad. I’m not as mad at N as I was a few days ago but I still think DK is a snake. I hope that he guards his heart from her nasty ways! I also think the whole thing with the paps is strange. N is very impulsive and sometimes too too nice!

Anon:Hahaha I share the same first name as DK, so at least I know when Norman is having sex he is screaming my name. Seriously tho at least she is age appropriate and who cares anyway. You are a fan of his work or not no matter who he is boning.

Anon:Is it me or is Norman avoiding liking DK IG posts? I believe he may have been drunk that night and is regretting what he did

rebellacycle:Are you going to watch jimmy Fallon tonight ? Wonder if he will talk about the new relationship. Or just TWD~~mod~~ i will probaly be asleep. probaly just talk about he twd

Anon:

Norman and Diane are happy and in love so the haters have already lost ✌🏼

Anon:

I have a question for those fans who keep saying things like “Be respectful of Norman’s private life!”…. But they’re the ones who are (unnecessarily!) publicizing it. They staged and sold pics and video. In PDA, the P doesn’t stand for Private. If they are not respecting their own relationship, why should we? Also is talking about Norman’s penis size respecting his privacy? So what exactly do y'all mean? They don’t seem to want that. They want people to talk, comment, click the links.

Anon

:Feel better soon Mod! I don’t understand something about the whole DK Shitshow. If this is legit (and not just publicity) then how come no other gossip sites are picking it up??? TMZ doesn’t have anything to say about it after they just ran the garage pics/got his denial?? It looks like People ENews DM UsWeekly and a few less known sites are the only ones going with it, so how come??? I don’t get it! I don’t understand how Norman can be one thing one day and the TOTAL OPPOSITE the next!??! WTAF

Anon: The photos and the video of NR and DK … Looking at it I just feel DK is walking with his trophy. She wants everybody to see her new toy, her little puppy that she will manipulate as she pleases. DK wants everyone to see his new trophy !! While NR smiles like a fool who does not understand the situation. Yes he became the DK puppet

anon:

I appreciate this blog and your work, but you have to moderate some comments that appear on your site. I read comments accusing Norman of lust after teenage girls. This is defamation and it is very serious. It is unbearable to see all this hate and these lies dumped on an actor we have supposed to love. It is all the more intolerable that currently the world is experiencing serious problems. Thousands of people are dying of hunger, London and Paris are the target of terrorists, but some people prefer to waste their time to dumped their hate on Norman. Treat him as if he was a criminal just because he’s in love and he lied because he didn’t want to reveal his private life in the press.I doubt that you post this message on your blog but I needed to say. Many of us live very difficult moments and see all this hate for a simple relationship is ridiculous. Some may express their disappointment but have no right to invent lies and spill their hatred. Sorry for my aproximative English, I hope to find a warm and funny blog. Good luck to you Mod….

~~mod~~ just a few things. 1.tumblr rarely lets me delete comments, the tumblr app hates me…2. the quickest way to get your post deleted is to say “you probaly wont post this”.. i hate that.

Anon:Hope you feel better soon mod. This is for when you do the bulk: at this point I think I’d be happier finding out he did accidentally get her pregnant one drunken night but actually can’t stand her and did this for appearances only and they aren’t really a thing. At least that way he would be the same guy who just made one huge mistake while intoxicated. One night stands happen all the time. But being with her?? it changes everything about him and it makes him a liar.

Anon:

been two days I haven’t looked at anything to do with N and I still can’t get over this. He’s a complete fake. short of telling us he was abducted by aliens and this was an imposter in his body I will never understand. ’s like he just revealed that he is the opposite of everything he made people believe for the past seven years. Liar. Fake. Hollywood. Stupid. Ingenuine. That’s what this makes him look like now. It makes me want to cry. someone say it was all a nightmare. where’s the real norman

Anon

:Happy Today, Mod! I hope your body parts will all in good working order soon. Please take care of yourself. The drama of Norman Reedus means nothing in the long run. Kind people like you who take the time to create community are what matters!

Anon:If DK’s marrage broke down because she cheating then norman gotta run far and fast, they cheat WITH you they cheat ON you. You should look at enty and type in Norman reedus/Diane Kruger this shit been stirring for a while Anon:Will Jimmy Fallon grill Norman about DK? ~~mod~~ dont know

Anon

:Have you seen the pap walk pics & videos?? Omg I’ll swear DK slipped a Mickey Finn in Norman’s whiskey. For him to agree to call the paps on himself, something was totally wrong with him! I don’t recognize that Norman. DK is destructive & opportunistic. She manipulated her way into his life from day one when she recommended him for the SKY role. She is as TOXIC as they come! Wtf’s he doing with her? He’s in self-destructive mode, I pray he comes to his senses in Ga surrounded by good ppl.

Anon:Diane manipulates the media and manipulates Norman. An avid woman who likes to manipulate her little world. How can people defend it? I saw her in truth, she behaves like a haughty princess.

Anon:I no longer see goodness in Norman.

Anon

:Just canceled my trip to San Fran wsc. I was gonna meet him but I can’t even look at him nevermind meet him. How are we supposed to pretend he’s the same guy? He’s NOT what he told us he was! It’s NOT bc of a gf but 1) that it’s HER of all ppl (she is the epitome of famewhore sell out and no one I’ve talked to who met her have ANYTHING nice to say) and 2) He LIED about everything. He’s not any of the things we thought, made his reps look stupid and sold out to let himself be papped. WTF is that

anon

: Personally I’m wondering if she got him drunk, got him to agree to this to make the rumors look true, and that he was too wasted to care. This is NOT the guy we know and love. This is also coming from a mutual friend of his not just some fan. he never calls the media, like TMZ on himself. He’s a private, fairly normal dude, and that’s why I think DK set it up. To boost her American publicity and get noticed for work here. Sad, sick, and sketchy.

Anon: I’m definitely over reading about it Mod but I don’t understand how anything is gonna go back to the way it was anyway so I vote to keep it on the main blog. He’s a lying jerk and this is what we have to see now every day because how can we not if he’s seriously with her. I think I’m gonna have to quit being his fan altogether bc I can’t take her I don’t want to see her ridiculous face every single time he goes anywhere ~~mod~~ here the thing its an N blog, i dont have to post anything with her in it. im really good at cropping things out of pics.

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