#I listened to some clips of him and it helped me feel a little grounded

[wayfinderships]

Auhgh my beloved! How I love you so,,,,💙

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 10- keep me from my grave

"Well, don't sing me praise. Just keep me from my grave." -Me Against the Devil by The Relentless

Main Masterlist Regent Series Part 9

They met at a bookstore. 

It had been almost two full months since the Joker had met his end, his head mounted and strangely not decomposed, with Jason returned to the Batfamily Gotham had settled into a lull. Not a quiet one, but a lull nonetheless. 

Jason was taking a break from sorting through cases with Dick, head throbbing from the lack of sleep and patience for annoying siblings wearing thin. 

The bookstore, tucked away in a quiet part of Old Gotham, was often empty of people during the day. Despite its large bay windows, comfy seating and welcoming atmosphere, the Page-Turner would remain a hidden gem to the city dwellers. For Jason, it was a haven he could never feel bad about keeping to himself. 

He’d branched out from classics some time ago, deciding to try other genres he’d long since ignored for the Bard, meandering around the shelves to find a title that caught his eye. 

It was between the mysteries and thrillers that he found her. 

Her. 

She was sitting on the ground with her back pressed against the thriller shelves, slender jean-clad legs tucked towards her chest to cradle a book, eyes never straying from the pages, red hair tied into a low ponytail with what looked like a small braid tucked behind one ear. Jason couldn’t tear his eyes away from her soft features, desperately wanting her eyes to meet his, her lips to offer him a smile and her hands to cradle his own.

 For the first time in his life, Jason finally understood what the regency novels meant by love at first sight… because the man was halfway there already. 

The Page Turner was a haven admist the chaos that was Jazz’s life, especially once she finally admitted to herself and Danny that she needed help to manage her depression. Her little brother was concerned, but also relieved when she confronted the elephant in the room first. He’d been weary of bringing it up himself, not wanting to worry her more. 

(Silly brother.)

(It was her job to worry.)

Nonetheless, Jazz asked around among the living and dead for a therapist recommendation, which she was correct about it being difficult in Gotham, but Jazz didn’t want to branch out just yet. A toss up between disbelief and enthusiasm awaited her, but she didn’t let it deter her from contacting the recommended psychologist- Harleen Quinzel. 

A bit awkward to be in a session with the reformed rogue, dutifully ignoring whatever lingering shades wanted her attention. Harley was a great listener, more importantly she cared about Jazz as a patient, as a human being. Whatever Bozo the Clown had done to her, what she had survived, had given Harley a new lease on life with his death (ironically). 

“It sounds like ya never been allowed to simply be, Jazz.” Harley spoke plainly and evenly, her brooklyn accent barely clipping her words. The redhead had spoken of her childhood, her brother’s death, the neglect.

Opened up about the nightmares, how Danny’s destroyed grave haunted her. Let the truth spill from her lips, free to simply exist in the space between the two women. Sure, Jazz would never spill secrets about the Realms, but where it concerned her guilt, or lack thereof, about the blood on her hands- yes, Jazz knew Harley wouldn’t judge her. 

And it was true, Jazz had no childhood. She was Danny’s caretaker, his first memory, his first steps towards, the first to have his back. There had never been just Jazz, only Jazz and Danny. Every dream she’d once had, broken and scattered in the ashes of Danny’s grave. 

(Danny had no hope of reaching the stars, of being an astronaut, with his death.)

“Sweetie, Danny sounds like he is capable of taking care of himself for a while. Have you considered finding a hobby?” Harley questioned, sincere in her wish to help. 

Jazz sighed, “I wouldn’t know where to begin.” What did she have outside her little brother and work as Regency? 

“Do ya like to read?” 

Jazz huffed, finding amusement with that question. Of course she liked, no, loved to read. It had been her one escape from the nightmares so long ago, but she hadn’t found the time since taking regency to lose herself in a good book. 

Harley didn’t need her to respond, offering a sincere smile in response to Jazz’s lack of reply. 

“There’s a bookstore in Old Gotham, the Page Turner, ya could check out? There’s no pressure to pick up a book, but it would be enough to just get through the door, yeah?” 

“I’ll try.” 

“That’s a good start.” 

As it was, Jazz wasn’t able to find time between Realms Work and patrol to do anything other than sleeping, eating, and various other tasks that filled her days (and nights). The more it itched at her, to listen to the therapist she liked, the more Jazz wanted to read a book. To get lost in a good story, just like she used to. 

Patrols were harder with Hood back, his haunt under his command once more and streets protected by a vigilante in red. Only twice in the few weeks since Jason had been moved from her side to the batcave had the Regent caught a glimpse of him, both as his nighttime persona, and from a distance Jazz hadn’t been able to sense him as clearly as previous. He did seem healthier with the pure ecto and his Proto-Core, though Jazz was in no mood to test her luck by crossing into his Haunt. 

The girls were sad to see the Regent less, even though Jazz remained firmly in the Phantom haunt and was barely a few minutes away at any given time, but it was the principle of the thing. The Regent was one of the good ones and a woman at that. A woman who could kick ass wasn’t rare, but it was rare that they would take up a vigilante role for the occupants of the Alley. 

Red Hood, while awesome and respected by his people, was a man. 

Some of the girls were gradually drifting into the Phantom haunt, or a shitty part of Old Gotham that bordered on the Alley. Regardless of it’s quality it belonged to the Phantom Fraid… and Phantom was a Protector Spirit. 

(With the Regent and the Phantom, crime was all but extinct in their haunt.)

With the decrease in crime, Jazz was finally able to dematrilize her armor, set down her sword and enter the Page Turner. 

A distinct mix of old books, ink, and some kind of body spray welcomed the redhead once she stepped inside, intrigued by the sense of calm that greeted her in place of a human. 

Which was fine, Jazz preferred to browse in peace. 

Grateful for the shelves being categorized, Jazz found herself enthralled by a thriller (They Never Learn by Layne Fargo) and didn’t notice another person in the aisle until they were within arm’s reach. 

Jazz flinched back, embarrassed by her lack of focus and attention to her surroundings, dangerous when one is a vigilante in Gotham. She greeted the man in front of her after a few moments of awkward silence, his stare making the redhead even more embarrassed, but now by her appearance. She'd been too tired to fuss with her hair or clothes beyond ensuring the orange-red strands were brushed into a semblance of order and her clothes were somewhat decent. 

(Jazz was more concerned with her bracelets being concealed under glamour and sleeves.)

(The metal, eternally cool against her warm skin, offered some comfort in times like these.)

(She was the Lady of the Acropolis, once student of Pandora, the Ancient of Peace.) 

(There is nothing that can make her feel lesser without her consent.) 

“Uh, hi.” 

(Oh how eloquent, Jasmine.) 

“Hi.” The deep voice, smooth and accented like a native Gotham, made Jazz finally move her gaze from his chest- nice chest as it was, it was his eyes that made her breath rush from her lungs. 

Jason. 

.....Jason!

(Oh yes, Jazz picked a good day to walk into the Page Turner.) 

(She was finally able to talk to her dream man.)

(She wasn’t disappointed.) 

(And by the smiles they had as walked away, neither was Jason.) 

A/N:

This isn't the best, I know. Hey, they finally meet! Keep an eye for the updated masterlist, because I'll be putting the link up and changing some of the chapter titles. Thanks for reading!

Update: “They Never Learn” by Layne Fargo is an actual book, with a female Anti-Hero who kills bad men. I don’t want to say more because I’ll spoil something, but it’s a great book.

[wishitweresummer]

Unstoppable

Word count: 1997

George laughed softly at his two favorite idiots, that bittersweet feeling washing over him again. An ocean away…but not for long…right?

“Dream, shut up shut up shut up SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!”, Sapnap got louder and louder as he tried to drown Dream out to no avail.

“-and he cried! I made him call me daddy, George!”, he wheezed. It sounded like he was shaking his head. “And he did!!”.

“Dream!!! I’m going to come over there and kick your ass!!!”

“If you come over here I’m going to tickle you again.”, Dream recovered quickly from his laughing fit to purr the threat into his mic.

“SHUT UP!!!”.

George put his chin in his hand and balanced it on the desk, grinning at Sapnap’s red face. At the sound of Dream starting up again, he slid his eyes over to the black screen and familiar icon in the middle.

Dream and Sapnap had lived together for a few weeks now. As soon as George got his visa he could join the fun.

‘Soon.’, he thought.

“I can’t wait for you to get here George. You can help me take him down.”.

“Soon!”, he chirped. It really was more sweet than bitter. Sapnap huffed like a child and crossed his arms, sinking back into his gaming chair. George knew any other time he would see Sapnap fling insults or even run out of the room to go confront Dream in person. But now, he stayed put with the threat of tickles. “I’m actually not ticklish, so I’d be pretty useful as an ally.”.

“No way!”.

“No shot!”. The exclamations were yelled in sync, making George laugh.

And with that, one more thing added to the list of things they needed to do as soon as George got to Florida.

-Dream face reveal

-Disney

-Pick out another furry friend for Patches together

-Sapnap’s first legal drink

-Tickle fight

~•~

The next time tickling is brought up, it’s weeks later and just George and Sapnap in their comfy vc.

“He’s really ticklish. If I could just get him pinned he would be fucked, dude.”, Sapnap said to his bedroom ceiling.

“Is he really that big?”, George asked quietly. Sapnap scoffed, shaking his head in amusement at the strange question.

“Well yeah, but you’ve seen like, his body. Bro’s six two.”.

“Shortnap.”, he quipped quickly, giggling.

“Laugh it up George. I actually workout! What do you think is going to happen to you?”.

“Oh, well I’m not ticklish.”.

“Everybody is ticklish.”.

“No, not everybody. It just doesn’t do anything to me.”.

Sapnap grinned. Somehow, George knows.

Sapnap thought back to the last time he heard George lose his shit. That insane cackling in person was deafening.

“I wish I had tickled you when I visited you in England.”.

“I’m not ticklish! Really!”.

~•~

Sapnap’s scream clipped the mic and George squirmed in his chair a little, wishing Dream would turn on his camera.

They had all been watching a new horror movie together when George had gotten a message.

Sap: I’m gonna scare the glizz out of Dream

And scare he had. Dream had been so enthralled in the movie he hadn’t noticed Sapnap slip out of frame. After a minute;

Startled yelp. Sapnap’s mean laughter. A scuffle. A chair crashing to the floor. Begging. A squeal. Raspy laughter. Pleads for mercy. Screaming when they were ignored. Dream’s cocky teases. Hysterical laughter. Apologies. More laughter.

Man…George wished he was there actually. He could help Dream punish Sapnap. Or help Sapnap put Dream in his place. The horror movie faded out of his interest entirely as he listened to his two best friends laugh. Dream’s familiar cry rang out. Maybe Sapnap had got some ground in the fight? He grinned and stared at the little Dream icon as the faceless man’s laughter boomed. He tried his best to picture in his head what was happening, but the image of Dream kept blurring into nothingness.

George jumped at another one of Sapnap’s piercing screams.

“George, help!!!”, he wailed. His laughter had a helpless edge to it and George wondered if Dream had gotten him pinned.

“I’ll be able to soon!”. But, they couldn’t hear him when he was so far away. “Soon.”.

~•~

The amount of tickling in the Dream House seemed to ramp up, to George’s ambivalence. He found himself hyperfocusing on it a bit. The other two were easy to egg on. Sapnap had a competitive streak and the fact that he hadn’t gotten the best of Dream in a tickle fight yet seemed to bug him.

“Who’s more ticklish?”, he asked one day over a game of Bedwars.

“Dream.”.

“Sapnap.”, they answered at the same time. George laughed.

~•~

Eventually, the future came hurtling in. A visa was granted. Suitcases were packed. A mask was removed.

And George came home.

~•~

It was a whirlwind of excitement; that first day. Dream and George were having a bit of trouble separating, too excited to be in person.

Dream giggled, standing in the doorway. He had been trying to leave for ten minutes, but just kept hovering and egging on the conversation. George was trying to scowl at him from the floor, but failing. The giddy energy of finally being with his best friends was crawling across his skin. He had to hold himself back from jumping up to touch Dream’s face. It was so real. He stood tall in the doorway, nearly touching the top with his curls.

George forced himself to look back down at the clothes he was sorting through. His suitcases were all open and stuff was strewn around the room. He thought back to when he had moved into his first apartment alone. The feelings mixed into the memories were different. He had been happy, for sure. But not like this. This wasn’t moving out, this was more like coming home. He knew it was cliche and sappy…but it was true.

Dream almost made it out of the room, but Sapnap appeared and wedged his own body into the doorframe so he could smoosh up to Dream. They both giggled as they shoved each other painfully against the wood. George desperately fought to not stare at them with all the fondness in the world.

“Gogy.”, Sapnap coo’ed, popping through the door to stumble towards George and fall to his knees next to him. George giggled.

“Sappy.”, he reached out and pushed gently against the younger’s shoulder. He had been struggling all day to keep his hands to himself now that his best friends were in reaching distance.

Dream took Sapnap’s entrance as his go ahead to join George on the floor again. Both had stated they were going to leave him alone to sort through his bags and start unpacking. George was glad they were failing to leave. He kind of hoped he was never alone again.

“Go away!”, he laughed and shoved at both of them.

~•~

George couldn’t help the giggles spilling from his lips as Dream cornered him in the living room. He knew he wasn’t ticklish, but Dream’s size and confidence was lighting his nerves on fire.

“Get him, Dream!”, Sapnap called from the couch.

“You said we would team up against him!”, George squeaked out. He gasped as his back found the wall.

Dream’s large hands were suddenly on his waist and he shrieked as he was twisted down to the ground.

“Dream!”, he cried, flustered.

He jumped a little as Dream went to work squeezing up his sides and shaking his fingertips into his rib cage. George slowly calmed down, just observing so he would know exactly what the other thought would tickle him.

“No shot. You have to be ticklish somewhere!”, Dream shook his head in disbelief and poked quickly into George’s stomach.

“Holy shit.”, Sapnap muttered, hanging over the back of the couch to watch him.

“Damn…okay…here?”, Dream asked as he reached back and grabbed George’s thigh. He squeezed at the muscle above his knee. George only lifted himself up on his elbows and gave Dream a little smile.

“Sorry.”, he shrugged. “Alright, my turn now.”, he said quickly and grabbed Dream��s sides before he could react. The boy squawked and almost completely collapsed against him.

George used the element of surprise and shoved himself up into Dream’s body. With a little force, he was able to flip their positions so he was on top. Sapnap cheered.

He attacked Dream’s ribcage like he had tried only a minute earlier; pressing all of his fingertips in lightly and shaking them roughly against the bones. Dream screamed. George and Sapnap both laughed as Dream turned into a squirming mess.

“What the fuck?!”, he cried. His hands shoved roughly against George’s chest, but George invaded his space again quickly and poked rapid fire into his stomach like he had done earlier. Dream’s entire body convulsed suddenly and he squealed. “Okay!!”.

“You’re so ticklish!”, George grinned. He reached back and latched onto Dream’s thigh. The boy bucked violently and shrieked with laughter. George laughed and he struggled to stay on. “Holy shit!”.

“You’re meme’ing him.”, Sapnap giggled.

“Fuck you!!”, Dream squeaked.

Sapnap grinned as he watched Dream completely fall to pieces under the smaller boy. It was so gratifying after being tickled to death by him a million times since they moved in together. Everytime Dream got a hold of George’s hand or started to shove him off, he squealed with helpless laughter and crumbled back to the floor from a new ticklish attack.

Just as Sapnap was starting to think it was the best day ever, George stood and set his sights on him.

“Oh shit.”, he muttered before scrambling to his feet. Dream was nothing but a giggly puddle as George left him to dart after Sapnap.

Before he could reach the door, a weight hit his back and sent both boys tumbling painfully across the floor. They both giggled hysterically as they wrestled. Sapnap’s giggles pitched up in panic as he blocked George’s playful fingers again and again.

“Get away, you psycho!”, he squeaked. A sneaky hand was shoved into his armpit and he crumbled. He gasped out harshly before bursting into laughter. The touch was mean right away. It made sense, knowing George’s merciless nature. It just sucked being the victim of it.

“Squeaky.”, George smirked and dropped both his hands down to Sapnap’s sides. His face burned as helpless laughter bubbled out of him against his will.

Sapnap cursed himself for not running earlier. George had just taken down Dream! There was no escaping the onslaught of tickles. He screamed in protest as devious hands shoved up into his shirt and grabbed at his bare sides.

“Okay, please!”, he pleaded, throwing his ego out the window to maybe get George to stop.

“Are you begging me right now, Stinknap?”.

“Yes! Yes, please! No more!”, he cried through his laughter. His torso was jumping and shaking at the electric touch directly into his muscles. He tugged at George’s arms and slipped into hysterical laughter. He kicked against the floor helplessly. He was so screwed. George was grinning like a demon as he dug his fingers expertly into his sides. Sapnap squealed. “Please!”.

Suddenly, George was lifted off of him. George yelped and burst into giggles as Dream held him up.

“Lemme at ‘im!”, he yelled as he kicked in the air and made grabby hands at Sapnap. They all laughed at the absolutely ridiculous situation.

“Fuck, I can’t believe this.”, Sapnap rubbed at his red face and tried to shake off his giggles. His body still buzzed from George’s rough touch.

“I told you guys I wasn’t ticklish!”, George laughed as he was placed back down on his feet.

~•~

George actually not being ticklish was just one of the many new things they learned about each other by living together. It was never a dull moment in the house and George thought he might never be bored again.

[thats-evil-do-it-again]

Little Red

-content warnings-

Fear, rape fantasy (stranger), being hunted, knife, degradation, slapping, biting, hair pulling, name calling (bitch, slut, whore), escape, perp gets stabbed

Genders: m/f Perspective: f, bottom

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

It’s so dark.

The flashlight barely helped as I stood at the fork in the trail, trying to decide where would be easiest to hide. To the left, mostly woods. To the right, abandoned A-frame cabins.

I only have a moment to think, He will be behind me soon.

I pick right, hoping the cabins would offer some kind of safety. As I jogged down the trail I felt like I could hear everything; every little rustle of the bushes, every twig snapping.

Had I spent too much time thinking? Had he already found me?

I finally reached the campsite and ran into the nearest cabin. Turning the flashlight off, not wanting to give away my position. I waited, and waited. The chill is really starting to set in. I’ve been here for a while, maybe I’m safe? I peek out the entrance and listen for a minute, silence, nothing but crickets.

"I'll give you a five minute head start." I shivered as I remembered the cold voice of my captor, as he shoved the flashlight into my hands and pushed me out of his car. He'd almost caught me a few times already, but I am small and good at disappearing.

I decide to make my way through the woods back towards civilization, towards safety.

Snap.

A branch behind me breaks. I spin around and gaze into the darkness, trying not to breathe and listening intently.

Silence.

I turn back around and take a few steps forward. A pair of arms wrap around me from behind,one around my waist, one over my mouth, smothering my startled yelp. "You aren’t as sneaky as you think you are" he whispered, his hand sliding down my body and eventually pressing on my crotch. My breathing hitched, ‘Don’t you know you can never hide from me?’ I feel the sharp pain of his teeth on my neck.

I kick out behind me and hit him in the leg, I push my arms out flailing. Breaking free, I ran out into the woods full speed. ‘Little bitch, I’ll end you’ I can hear him just a few paces behind me, slowly gaining. My foot catches and I stumble. As I pull myself onto my hands and knees recuperating from the fall, I feel his body weight pushing me back down onto the ground. 

I desperately tried to claw myself away, and he grabs my wrists and flips me on my back. He holds my hands pressed into the ground above my head, and slaps me hard across the face. Tears well up in my eyes, "Aw, gonna cry?" He slaps me hard on the other side of my face. Through my sobs I hear a small click and feel the cold metal of a knife slide down my neck, hovering over the neckline of my shirt. ‘Maybe if you didn’t dress like such a whore this wouldn’t be happening.’ With a swift movement, he’d cut my top open and exposed my breasts.

He traced the tip of the blade up and down my rib cage before dropping it next to us on the ground. Using his free hand he unbuttoned my pants and roughly started to pull them down. I thrash wildly, trying to break free. He grabs my legs and holds them still, biting down on my thigh. I let out a scream as it feels like he’s ripping through my skin with his teeth. He releases and I sigh with relief.

His hand finds its way to my crotch and he forcefully rubs me, "Look at how much you’re enjoying this, you're a dirty little slut arent you. Scream for me." As his teeth roughly tear into my soft breast, I wail out in pain. I feel him start to get hard, pressing and grinding himself against me.

The metal button of his pants is digging and scratching my bare pussy. I yelp as it clips my clit, and my body shudders. "God, you really ARE enjoying this aren't you?" I feel his breath, hot against my neck, "Here I thought I was just setting the mood."

He lets go of my arms and grabs a fistfull of my hair, dragging me with him as he sits up. I feel tears streaming down my face. He stares at me; seeming to consider his options for a moment before unbuttoning his jeans, and reaching his free hand into his boxers.

He drags my head back down to the ground, forcing my face into the twigs and dirt of the forest floor. I try to fight back, but he maneuvers my body easily. He wraps his arm around my waist and hoists my hips up into the air, spreading my legs with his knees.

He yanks my head back, forcing my body against his. I could feel him through his underwear, rock hard and leaving a wet sticky spot as he started leaking with precum. He releases my waist and I hear the rustling of fabric as he pulls himself out of his boxers. I feel a wet sensation as he spits on my hole, then pain as he positions himself and roughly forces himself inside.

He press down onto me with his body weight forcing me down to the ground, trapped beneath him.

It doesn't take very long, taking what he wanted like a savage animal. The whine he let out when climaxing was almost pathetic. I tried once more to pull myself away from him, clawing at the ground around us. But, he just locked his arms around my waist and pulled me back onto him with a contented sigh, slowly rocking his hips into me.

My fingers feel something cold and metal.

The knife.

He seems distracted enough right now, so I use my fingertips to drag it a bit closer. I can feel the handle, and wrap my fingers around it. I take a deep, shuddering breath, willing myself to have the strength to act.

With one swift motion I've buried it in his thigh. He screams, a mix of pain and anger as he shoves me away from him. My hand is still gripped on the knife, taking it with me as I tumble to the ground.

My thoughts are racing as I stumble to gain my balance. Once standing, my thoughts go blank. I just run as fast as I can, hearing his shouting and cursing fade behind me.

I'm not sure if the wound I'd inflicted would be enough to fully stop his pursuit, or even slow him down. But I need to have hope that it helped.

At least it gave me a bit of a head start.

And now, I'm the one with a knife.

[delormarigold]

Disappearing highway writing 1

i hope yall like this writing :-)

CW : mentions of death, blood, drug usage (weed)

Taylor and Chris pulled into the small parking lot, where the faded paint lines were barely visible against the cracked asphalt. She sighed and glanced at the clock on her dashboard.

“Maybe 6:00 a.m. is too early,” Taylor muttered anxiously, biting her nails. The early morning fog covered the area, enveloping everything in darkness. The scattered leaves on the ground were covered in the morning dew.

“Are you sure this is the right place, Chris? Because I swear if it’s not and I have to knock-“

“Yeah no Taylor don’t worry this is probably like definitely it man” Chris looked out the window of the car. He wasn’t looking at anything.

“Wha- why are you talking like that? Are you nervous?” Taylor said bluntly. Chris shifted in his seat but didn’t turn around. “I mean a little bit but like that’s normal, you know what I mean.” He turned around to look at her. “What if he doesn’t believe you, you know?”

Taylor stared at him in silence, Chris was equally quiet. His eyes were completely blank.

“Well…” Taylor turned to the apartment. “Uhm… I didn’t think that far ahead…” She turned back to Chris, he looked worried. “Well, too late now!” He passed through the car. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Okay, I'm coming. But let's set some ground rules okay?” Chris looked at her listening intently.

“First, no possession. You know you have a hard time controlling it, and it's painful in general. Second, don't mess with the lights or anything. Third, conserve your energy. We don't want that to happen again. Understand? Good.”

“Got it.” Chris said with a smile. Taylor would look back down at the phonebook clipping.

South Greenwood apartment complex.

Taylor looked at the apartment, it was small and couldn't have had more than 100 rooms. It looked old and dingy. The stairs were rusted in places and looked like it could break if more than 10 people were on it.

“This feels more like a motel than an apartment…” Taylor mumbled to herself, shoving the paper back into her pocket. Watching the steps closely to make sure she didn't trip. Taylor took a deep breath.

Room 60. Rodney Steven. God this better be the right room number I had to ask around for this dumb thing.

Knock Knock Knock

There was no response.

“Is he not home?” Chris said, leaning his head through the door.

“Chris!” Taylor reached out to grab his arm, but her hand passed right through it.

“Okay okay sorry!” He said backing back out and putting his hands up.

“...Hello…?”A quiet voice spoke up from the other side of the door. “Who is this?”

“Uh- This is Taylor I need to ask you a few questions. Do- I mean- shit, did you know a Chris?”

The door opened slightly, revealing a man in his early twenties of average height. He was wearing square glasses and had brown eyes, with long, curly ginger hair that went down to his shoulders. He was wearing a sublime t-shirt with basketball shorts and appeared as though he had just woken up. His apartment looked like a mess, with dirty clothes strewn about, and it also reeked of weed. Taylor recoiled from the smell.

“Kid, there are a bunch of Chris’s here I need a last name…” He said rubbing his eyes.

Taylor was taken aback. She never knew Chris’s last name or his real name for that matter. That was just a name that he came up with. Taylor itched the back of her head beginning to sweat. “I don't know his last name… uhhh… You two dated back in high school?”

Rodney's eyes widened in disbelief as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet, feeling the awkwardness of the moment. "I still don't know who you're talking about," he said, his voice shaky, failing to conceal the surprise that remained on his face.

Taylor stared at him momentarily, questioning if she should just be honest. “Listen I know this sounds insane but there is this ghost attached to me and in some type of vision type thing, and he remembers you of all people so just please help us.”

Rodney choked and spluttered, “What… what are you talking about?!” His voice cracked as he coughed. “It’s too early for this damn shit… What are you talking about?” His eyes were wide, filled with confusion.

Taylor begged. “Please, please just give me a minute! I promise I can prove it, you’re Rodney Stevens right?” Taylor exclaimed, pointing at his face.

Rodney stared at her, completely bewildered. He looked away, mumbling something under his breath, and shook his head. “Okay. fine.” He moved Taylor's finger out of his face. “You got 5 minutes max to prove this “ghost shit” is real, I got work in 30. He crossed his arms and pushed the door open. Taylor walked inside seeing the true extent of the clutter. Every light but the oven hood was off. She could hear the soft mumble of the morning news.

“Where can I sit?” Taylor glanced over at Rodney, who was busy attempting to make some space. “Uhm,” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The table is fine I guess… So like… Are we gonna summon something or like what?”

“What? No, I'm just going to talk for him,” Taylor said, moving the empty take-out boxes off the chair to make some space. Rodney lit a joint, and she glared at him, rolling her eyes.

“So, like,” he said, taking a long drag from the joint and exhaling a cloud of smoke. “If he is like a ghost why can't he just possess you and stuff? That would prove it right?” Rodney said, turning on the light above the table and sitting down. Taylor rolled her eyes. “Because it hurts like hell, it feels like being electrocuted.” She leaned back in her chair. “Plus, Chris is such an idiot he can't even do anything” She muttered. “Ugh, where even is he?” She realized she hadn't seen him since she walked in. “Chris?”

“I can’t see anything in this stupid pitch-black room…” Taylor said, squinting her eyes.

“I’m right behind you Taylor.” Chris stood over her grinning, Taylor let out a yelp.

“This chick is a fucking freak man,” Rodney said under his breath taking another hit. Taylor scoffed at him.

“You know I can hear you.”

“Yeah, I know…” he said, putting his feet up on the table and exhaling smoke.

Taylor bit her lip. What a fucking dick… She pulled out her pocket notebook. “Okay,” taking a deep breath. Flipping to a certain page, she looked up at Rodney. “So, how do you know Chris? How did you two meet?”

Rodney took his feet off the table, leaned forward, and squinted his eyes at her. “Oh, I already told you I have no clue who you're talking about. Maybe you could describe him for me? That might jog my memory,” he said sarcastically, taking another long drag of his joint.

Taylor glared at him, her anger noticeable. Then she looked over at Chris, who met her gaze with a sorrowful expression. “I’m sorry I don’t know why he’s such an asshole,” he whispered, offering an apologetic smile.

Taylor sighed. “Well… He has brown hair, He’s white, and uhh wears a beanie all the time and has a blue jacket.”

Rodney's eyes widened as he tried to breathe in, He started to choke. With every cough, smoke came out of his lungs, and his eyes began to water. He rubbed his throat, wiping his eyes with a shaky hand. “What—what did you say? Can you repeat that?” He asked, his voice hoarse.

Taylor rolled her eyes. “White with a brown mullet and a beanie. He’s wearing a dark gray shirt with a darkish blue parka and some jeans.”

Rodney's face was etched with disbelief, and he remained silent. It was clear he was hiding something.

Taylor leaned in her eyes wide and listening. “Does that ring a bell?”

“I—I don’t know…” Rodney said, barely above a whisper. He looked away, staring at the wall and mumbling to himself while rubbing his arm, lost in thought. Turning back to her with a scared expression, he asked, “Do you mean CJ…?”

Taylor squinted at him, then glanced over at Chris, who was leaning in with his head resting on his hands.

“Tell me about CJ. What was he like? How did you two meet, and what kind of relationship did you have? Also, do you know anything about how he died?” Taylor asked, preparing to write down whatever Rodney had to say.

“Well…I think we became friends in high school or something…” He said taking another hit. Taylor realized that half of the joint was already burned off.

He's almost done with the damn thing?!

“We kinda liked the same things and had the same classes n’ stuff… We hung out all the time and smoked while listening to music. He eventually confessed and we hit it off but we had to hide it from everyone, even our parents.” Instead of the happiness that comes from reliving memories, his eyes were filled with disappointment and regret. “He wanted to tell people. He was always so dense. I mean that could ruin our lives. This was 91! He was always so hopeful, that’s what I liked about him.” Rodney smiled. He had tears forming in his eyes.

“Eventually… He started getting really paranoid, which was weird for him. He said he was being stalked. I didn’t believe him, I- I thought it was just paranoia or anxiety, some shit like that.” He took another hit. “He always struggled with that stuff.” He let out a sigh, “I wish I could have done something more to protect him. I wish I would have listened to him.” He continued, his voice beginning to break with tears running down his cheek. “I wish I never told him to come over that night. CJ’s death is all my fault.” Taylor looked up from her notes. Rodney sat there, silently sobbing, his shoulders trembling as tears streamed down his face. She glanced at Chris who looked completely defeated, His face was etched with a deep sadness, and his eyes, dull and lifeless,

Rodney continued, his head still in his hands, his words muffled by his tears. “I was so afraid of everyone finding out I didn’t even go looking for him. I didn’t help at all. They never found his body…” He began mumbling to himself again, wrapping his arms around his body and rubbing his upper arms. Tears streamed down his face as his sobs intensified. His hands tensed up, and his fingers dug into his skin, leaving imprints where his nails pressed deeply into his arms. The light above the table began to flicker, Rodney glanced up at the flickering bulb, confused and sniffled, before turning his gaze back to Taylor. His face was wet with tears and snot. He sniffled. "You should go. I have to get ready," he said, standing up and wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Oh, uh, okay. Thank you for having me,” Taylor replied, rising from her seat and pushing her chair in with a soft scrape. “Come on, Chris.” But Chris remained motionless, lost in thought. “Oh, come on Chris, we need to go!” she urged, her impatience growing. He stood up quietly, looking away and not meeting any of their eyes. Taylor turned to face Rodney outside the doorway.

“Thank you again for listening, sir,” Taylor said with a forced smile. Rodney slammed the door in their faces, The suddenness left them both breathless, Jeez… Taylor and Chris walked back to the car in silence. She started the engine, and after a moment, asked, “Soooo… Did you get your answers, Chris?”

He didn’t respond.

“Chris? You alive in there man?” Still no answer.

I guess I'll start driving home.

“Why didn’t he look for me…” Chris muttered, barely above a whisper.

“What did you say?” Taylor replied, keeping her eyes on the road.

“He said he didn’t come looking for me… why? He said he loved me, but he didn’t even care to look for me.” Chris turned to Taylor, bloody tears streaming down his face.

“Oh my god! You’re crying blood! Are you okay?!” Taylor exclaimed. Chris touched his face, staring at the blood that now coated his fingertips.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, leaning back into his chair. his voice was devoid of emotion, looking utterly vacant.

“Is that what happens when you cry?” Taylor asked, a mix of intrigue and worry in her voice.

“I guess…” Chris mumbled, tears still streaming down his face.

“You’re always full of surprises, I swear,” Taylor said, glancing at Chris, but her words were met only with the steady hum of the engine. The silence stretched between them.

“Do you want to go pick up Ivy? She’s only four minutes away from here,” she suggested, hoping to steer the conversation in a lighter direction.

Still, there was no response from Chris.

“Okay,” Taylor said quietly, leaning back into her seat.

“I’m sorry,” Chris finally sniffled, straightening up. “Yeah, we can pick up Ivy.” He turned his head to look out the window, the scenery blurring past him, His expression was distant as he struggled with his thoughts.

"I'm sorry things didn't go as planned," Taylor said softly, "I'll do my best to make it up to you, I promise."

“Thanks…” Chris replied, wiping the tears from his face, his voice still shaky.

The car ride home was silent, interrupted only by the soft hum of the engine, each moment heavy with unspoken thoughts.

[malrido]

Ok since you're a fellow malrido shipper, I must know all your headcanons

I GOT YOU. Some of these are character headcanons but can be used ship wise- Also I am a roleplayer and roleplay them with my friend so I may include little story things from those. Gonna put everything past keep reading because i might have gone overboard (I love them so dearly)

-Malleus calls Riddle his rose, his queen, or his treasure. He mainly uses the first two- the second one being used more to tease him.

-Speaking of teasing- Malleus loves teasing Riddle. Fae in general are already mischievous and Malleus is no different. You even see him teasing Riddle during his birthday jacket card with the whole "I'd bring you with me~" to the deserted island thing.

-Malleus "purrs". There are sound bites i've heard of "dragons" basically creating a rumbling noise with their chest (Malleus denies that its purring). Riddle thinks its nice and has used it to fall asleep before. Audio clip from youtube below.

-Later on they end up having two kids. both girls- Rosemary and Morgan (based on Morgan le Fey). I've created picrews of them that I'll add below.

-Malleus is whipped. He is down so bad for Riddle... most of the time he will listen to what Riddle says and do whatever he asks. He's also offered to smite multiple people for Riddle

-Malleus wants to KILL Riddle's mom. Like... not exaggerating. It's a point of contention between them. Obviously Riddle doesn't want his mother to die- but Malleus thinks she's slighted him and almost gotten Riddle to break up with him one too many times and needs to go.

-Riddle loves being wrapped up in Malleus' tail. It makes him feel safe and also its nice and warm. He can almost instantly fall asleep as soon as Malleus puts his tail over Riddle.

-Malleus is VERY over protective. To points that have gotten them into arguments. Riddle is terrified of being controlled like he was by his mother again- while Malleus is terrified of Riddle leaving him, getting hurt, or dying.

-Sometimes Malleus just teleports into Heartslabyul, scoops Riddle up, and walks off towards Riddle's room or Diasomnia. Doesn't matter if Riddle is busy- he needs his rose. A great way to piss Riddle off sometimes- but he will stop when scolded. Malleus absolutely gets whiny (he will deny it) but will always listen to his queen.

-During Malleus' 4th year he just teleports back when hes not busy to be with Riddle. Even if Riddle is studying he just likes being in the room or holding Riddle in his lap. This also helps with Riddle's stress- as Trey and Cater would be gone so he doesn't exactly have somebody to ground him.

-Riddle is convinced Malleus is cursed and thats why every invite somehow falls through or goes wrong or forgotten. Afterall Riddle prides himself on memory and timing. Malleus still says its impossible for him to have been cursed.

-I... do have nsfw headcanons with them that I will not get into but if you're 18+ feel free to dm me if you're curious lmao

-Malleus is glad he mostly hides his tail because every time its out and he sees Riddle it starts thumping against the ground. He has almost broken his own bed frame when he was just sitting and reading with his tail out then Riddle paid him a surprise visit. As soon as Riddle walked into the room his tail starting thumping and cracked the bed frame

-Malleus has memorized all 810 rules of the queen of hearts before they were even dating. It was when he was interested in Riddle and wanted to do something that would make him happy.

It's almost 1 am so I'm going to stop there but I may add to this post honestly... Also if you have any questions about scenarios I will be happy to tell you my answer- also just what you think about all of these in general!

[d1ssenter-be-damned]

*opens trenchcoat to reveal several pamphlets with fic tropes on them* What kind of nicities might you be interested in Tumblr user error-is-bae? `<•##>3

well hello there anonymous tumblr user that im fairly certain is one of two people.

listen man i know everyone and their dog has written a fic where gabriel atones for the errors of his ways by throwing himself into rebuilding lust w minos. but i cannot get the concept out of my head

every interp ive seen thus far has minos be angry, yes, but i dont think hes been angry enough. i want him to break. i want him to tear into gabriel like a rabid fucking beast. i want him to grab him by the throat and throw him to the floor hard enough shards of concrete get lodged in his lungs. i want gabriel to scramble back instinctively because he knows hes no match for a prime soul, especially not without his Light but he's not fast enough and then Minos grabs him again and he can't breathe--

and i want him to just go limp. to accept his fate. and minos just gets angrier because he wants him to fight, he wants to revel in the feeling of his bones crunching and listening to him scream but it's not satisfying if he doesnt fight back and he did not waste away in that god forsaken prison watching everything he'd worked so hard to achieve (peacefully! he never wanted a fight, he wanted to thrive, he tried to reason--) be torn down by his own withered hands only for gabriel to rob him of what little gratification he could receive as if he hadn't already taken everything from him. i want him to roar "why won't you fight me?!" as he lifts gabriel by his collar. he wants to see the spirit that gabriel had before (when they were colleagues, friends even, when they would spend their time debating philosophy and literature and enjoying being together), wants to watch it break under his fists--

(and he thinks of the way gabriel looked down at him so long ago, the divine light of the spear held to his throat shining across his armor, the way he had pleaded for some of that previous kindness to return only to feel as the head pierced his skin and dug its way through his flesh, blood curling down his neck in rivulets and pooling in his mouth as he gasped for any semblance of breath he could take--)

and for just a second he thinks of how things could have been so much different if gabriel had a heart. if he was allowed to rule his kingdom in peace, allowed to let his people prosper and grow and have a second chance. and he looks at gabriel, sad and limp and broken in his grip, but hes not broken like a warrior after a valiant fight or a killer after a spree, hes broken like a fledgling bird with clipped feathers pecking at fingers for its own survival, like a child tucked away in a damp street corner waiting for it to be safe to move again, like the people he had helped build a new life in death.

and on one hand it infuriates him because gabriel is the reason he never got to see his people thrive, never got to see his kingdom grow and live and by all means he should despise him for everything hes done

but at the same time he remembers the gabriel from before the Council, remembers their late nights together, remembers the intelligence and the wit and the charm and the kindness they had Beaten out of him, sees how hopeless and faithless he has become

and sees that he has the chance to be better.

but he has to think about it. so he drops gabriel to the ground and watches as he scuttles back and coughs for breath and looks up at him and can practically feel the confusion and disbelief radiating off of him and if he's honest hes not sure hes making the right decision either. so he turns around and stalks away before he has the chance to change his mind.

anygays. i spent way too long writing this out cus im just obsessed with the concept of them growing closer Slowly because obviously minos can never truly forgive him and gabriel cant ever be rid of that Guilt but i do think there's something there to work from. they just have to put in some effort.

[becausethathappens]

I feel like one of the most underrated protective Rhett moments is how he reacted learning that a fan grabbed Link in that one EB episode. He got so overworked and lost his composure (that usually happens when he's jealous) that he told Link he should kill anyone who tries to touch him (later played it off as a joke) but he was so clearly scarily angry. It came across as (if someone touches you, I'll kill them). This is makes me connect some dots to that other EB when he dreamt about Link being in prison and they made the conclusion the prison was in Scandinavia then out of the blue Rhett said if he were to kill anyone it would be in Scandinavia (which in that context means he would do it to protect Link).

👊 / 🏃

first of all, anon, i'm sorry this took forever for me to respond to. once i saw the second part (credit to @leelaihardly in helping find it), i wanted to write down some of the things that stuck out.

in the initial clip, rhett seems not just frustrated that link was grabbed, but also that he hadn't been told about it in the moment. in his mind their fates are directly linked (lol) and not saying anything puts link's safety in jeopardy which (unspoken) puts rhett's fate in jeopardy by proxy. protect the pack energy, like a body guard warning link off neglecting to speak up in the future. (obviously, rhett would've showed off some of those disarming moves. or at least put his large form between link and someone bothering him, as he's done all their life).

and in the second clip, the protectiveness didn't just extend to the dream murder charge he'd happily take in scandinavia (likely, as you alluded, because someone tried grabbing at link in front of him and he knew about it, this time).

the rest of it... well, it brought some other things to mind. and before all that, shoutout to jessie for trying to cut to the chase and say it was about the literal thought prompt they got during a live show.

a less realistic but still fun ✨dream analysis✨ is under the cut:

if i were rhett's friend and he asked me how would i interpret it, as it was described, i'd point him towards the deconstruction episodes. he even admits his mind had been dwelling on going home since this was recorded days before they literally flew home to shoot the buies creek documentary. as rhett himself points out, it's the same exact setting of the dream since the golf course (although only vaguely described here) was literally the backyard of his childhood home.

so it tracks that going back there, to that home (which his family didn't even own anymore, but still was marked by the vinyl siding and engraved brick that showed they were once there), to the church, to the river, and shining a spotlight on it all meant they had to finally confront it. a little bit during the documentary (they are confirmed verbal processors) when they were explaining some of the reasoning behind why they were doing some weird thing in some weird place in and around the church. it makes sense that thinking about all of that kept it all on his mind as he dreamed and it's no surprise they barely waited a year before recording their deconstruction episodes after these were both filmed. once they reconnected with those places, the need to explain themselves fully probably felt urgent, to show they weren't those people anymore. they've referred to a constantly trickle of questions about those origins that they'd consistently felt disingenuous for not speaking about directly up until that point.

just as stubborn as in the dream when rhett's deconstruction spiraled into what it became, he confirmed leading up to the moment in ear biscuits above, he knew full well that inviting link even just to listen to him talk through his doubts would put link's own beliefs on shakier and shakier ground over time, but he did it anyway. when link doesn't seem taken with the idea of fighting the court case, rhett panics and forces them both to flee.

separately, link, despite not being the one to initiate the pull away and having been resigned to it actually ends up taking to the life in prison and on the run (not having any set structure of 'what' his beliefs are outside of prioritizing love) more smoothly than rhett has. this has been shown to frustrate rhett as they continued down the path they've ended up on, akin to needing to tape down his jumpsuit sleeves before jumping in the getaway car. now, rhett appears to be hovering closer to find a version of link's freedom that works for them both (mostly for safety/risk-related reasons, in times i've seen it brought up). he was on a mission to leave the church (irony) and even though he's written a whole album about how scared he was that his family was going to want to disown him for it... he still continued, undeterred waiting for link to get in the car. because, again, their fates are intertwined. if link doesn't get in the car, rhett might be driving alone, but he's not driving away.

see, to me, rhett thinks of the idea of link being in jail in the same way: as a problem for them both. link in jail means rhett is in constant psychic pain until he's come to his senses about how wrongful the conviction was and joins the cause to overturn it, or they make a break for it. i don't think it's even a stretch to say that he felt the same way about keeping these major religious revelations from him as they were discovered. at the time it was happening, they worked for the church and had abandoned their former careers to do so. it put a lot of pressure on how much they shared even just with their spouses at the beginning.

and considering they later literally ran away together across the country to start over again with their families in california, it's a pretty consistent metaphor. they've said that leaving didn't start the process, but it stopped them from feeling trapped by the culture surrounding them. it was the door into the wilderness where they now live. amongst bears and beautiful people. free to roam, but not because they're in a scandinavian prison for murder. their beliefs died of natural causes and link was wrongfully accused.

thank you so much for sharing! hope that you see this. 🧡

[ectogeo-rebubbles]

What do you think about the song After Last Night (by crj) for siskarak?

(bc I saw the line "things are different in the pale moonlight", plus the music kind of has a space vibe, so I latched on to this song. And since then whenever I listen to the song my mind is busy with stretching the meaning of the rest of the lyrics to justify myself assigning siskarak to the song 😅

Hiiii, thanks for this amazing ask!

I think the intended meaning and tone of this song is a little too bubbly and romantic to apply to them haha, HOWEVER.... that is NOT going to even slightly stop me from trying to figure out how to twist the lyrics until they are actually about middle-aged men doing their war crimes together!!! I see your vision, anon! ^_^ <3

"Gravity is not enough to keep me on your street Walking twenty feet above the ground I need you to hold my hand" = not sure for the first two lines, maybe it's about Sisko knowing in retrospect that his head was in the clouds for thinking that Garak wouldn't betray and undermine him. I need you to hold my hand is about their handshake in ITPM

"Every kiss we start feels somehow incomplete Secrets in the corner of your mouth Things I wanna understand" = Sisko has a creeping sense that Garak is hiding things from him during ITPM but can't quite figure out what

"Then you said, hey, before we make a big mistake Is there some place where we can go right now? I don't think that it can wait" = I'm getting vibes of like Sisko getting cold feet or feeling guilty enough to want to confess to someone, and Garak calmly pulling Sisko aside to talk him into or out of doing something. Like, perhaps, that scene where Garak tells Sisko his contacts have all been killed and Sisko almost calls the whole thing off? I don't think that it can wait could just be about the urgency of bringing the Romulans into the war to help even the odds.

"After last night, things look different In the pale moonlight In the moment, I was hypnotized You can go ahead and open your eyes Yeah, I see you And I think it's gonna change my life" = after he learned about Vreenak's ship, the illusion that Garak was ever going to stick to the plan (and not go rogue and do some murders) has been shattered, and Sisko sees Garak for who he is, no longer seduced by him.

"Not afraid of getting close this time You can go ahead and open your eyes" = a clear-eyed post-monologue Sisko accepting what he can live with. or maybe there's a pov switch at this point and it's just a clip of garak getting physically close to him and also wishing that Sisko would open his eyes and stop deluding himself

"The consequences of dancing with his insecurities Tell me what you want and I'll reply I can tell the truth, don't bite" = I suggested making the POV switch in previous section bc these lines are MUCH more Garak about Sisko than Sisko about Garak. Garak is very much dancing with (and around) Sisko's insecurities (moral qualms) in ITPM. and then the last bit is Garak stressing that he's telling the truth, when he obvs isn't hehe. (but he IS indirectly truthful in a way, by warning Sisko that it will be a messy bloody business)

"After we spent the night The moon was shining extra bright We kinda opened up inside After we spent the night We crossed into the other side And manifested something bright" = Sisko and Garak metaphorically getting into bed together and learning more about each other during their little plots and schemes in ITPM. "Mr. Garak after having spent a week with you" etc. etc. Also I believe in my heart that they LITERALLY got into bed together at some point too, and no one can ever change my mind about that hehe. <3 Oh, and the something bright is OBVS the explosion of Vreenak's ship. ^_^

"It's always in you, really, always And it's no surprise I was never so hypnotized You can go ahead and open your eyes" = I like the "it's no surprise / I was never so hypnotized" juxtaposition for ITPM!Sisko a lot, bc he shouldn't be surprised that Garak (the solving his problems with murder guy) escalated to murder, yet he's still framing it as being hypnotized (and still not quite acknowledging that his initial plan was ALREADY VERY MORALLY FUCKED - like, lying to a guy and planting evidence is less bad than murder but the GOAL of those actions was always to get the Romulans into the war under false pretenses... and that would mean a lot more dead Romulans as a direct result, even if the cause of death is more indirect than Sisko and Garak personally murdering them).

This was so fun to think about!!! I absolutely love torturing song lyrics into tonally dissonant interpretations to make them be about my blorbos. ^_^

[seenoversundown]

Chiaroscuro

Josh x Quinn

TW: none (: just some fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Quinn POV

Walking into the festival grounds, hand in hand with my Josh, who is practically vibrating with excitement. Seeing the string lit trees while everybody is picking their spots to set up their blankets feels like a dream. 

“Are you nervous, Starlight?“ I whisper, leaning into Josh. He squeezes my hand a few times before quickly nodding. Josh was always a candidly happy boy but, nothing will beat the way he is beaming at the sight of this festival set up.

Josh was finally accepted to present a film he put together and I’ve never been more proud, even if it’s a local film festival that is hosted once a season. Given that it’s October, the theme for the fest is Horror Films, which isn’t necessarily my favorite but I will always be there for Josh. 

“Okay glow bug, find us a cozy spot and I’m going to go get the schedule.” He quickly says before pressing a kiss to the side of my head.

“Don’t get lost!” I yell as he scurries off into the crowd, knowing full well he didn’t hear it. 

After sneaking past even more horror fans, I found a sweet little spot under a tree. While smoothing out our blanket, I can hear him singing as he’s making his way back. 

“What a lovely day it is,” bringing a smile to my face just by the sound of his voice. “Isn’t it my little glow bug?” 

Plopping himself down on the blanket and giving the space next to him a little double pat, I can’t help but laugh at the gesture. 

“Every day spent with you is lovely” I tell him, because simply put, it’s the truth. Gently squishing his face, making him giggle. It was selfish really, anything to make that dimple pop. I haven’t seen him this giddy since that night on the rooftop. 

“Where are you on the schedule?” I questioned. 

“Fourth!”, he says excitedly, “but there’s only six films being shown, so I really hope mine is memorable for everybody.” 

I could hear the excitement start to leave and the doubt creeping in its place. 

“I’m sure it’s absolutely perfect, Josh. Don’t be too hard on yourself. The stars aligned to get you here, enjoy all of it.” I tell him, hoping maybe some encouraging words will help him feel a bit better. 

“Thank you, bug. You’re right. No reason to fret about it beforehand,” he mumbles. “Now come and get comfortable so we can enjoy these horrific films.” 

I spend most of the time during the first three indie horror films, watching through squinted eyes and listening to Josh’s commentary under his breath. I’ll never understand how he enjoys watching these but I'll gladly make the exception to spend time with him. I’ve been listening to him talk about the film he put together for months and I’ve only been lucky enough to see little clips, mostly from sneaking up behind him while he’s editing. 

“I actually quite liked that one,” Josh says at a normal volume, snapping me out of my thoughts. “It was done so well, I’ll find them later so I can give them a proper ‘bravo!’” 

If there’s one thing I know about tonight, it’s that we will be the last to leave . He just wants to make sure everybody feels included, so he will spend the night speaking to everyone. It’s admirable really, because he and I are not the same. But maybe that’s how we balance each other out so well.

“I’m sure they would love to talk to you but it’s basically your turn, love!” I remind him, earning a grin.

“I really can’t wait for you to see it,” he says as he’s standing up. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

I reach my hand up towards him motioning for him to lean a little closer and as he does, I pull him in. Pressing my lips against his gently, leaving a few small kisses on the corners of his mouth and the tip of his nose, I see his beautiful smile start to creep onto his face.

“I’m already so proud of you,” leaving one last kiss to his forehead, “ now go! Go impress the fellow creepy folk!” Which earns a good laugh out of him as he starts walking up to the front. 

“Next up, Joshua Kiszka presenting his film, The Red Opus“, I watch the MC hand the microphone over to Josh, not having thought about the fact he would get to speak. I lock eyes with him from a distance seeing him release a big breath before pulling the mic up to his mouth. 

“Thank you so much for having me here. It really is an honor. I have been passionate about film for my entire life and being able to finally show the world is really special to me. Well, with that said, I hope it scares the shit out of you!” Josh exclaims. He always had a way of speaking that would make anybody laugh, no matter the crowd. It makes sense how he’s done so well in his past and current jobs, that charismatic little shit. 

Josh quickly hustles through the crowd of blankets and settles back down onto ours. 

“Your face is going to be sore from all that smiling you’ve been doing”, I can’t help but poke a little fun at how excited he is. 

“What can I say,” he torts back, “I get to spend an afternoon in the crisp air, enjoying people’s response to my film with the love of my life. I have a lot to be happy about, bug.”

I can’t help but beam back at him. It’s a wonderful thing being in love with someone who thinks you made the sun and the stars in the sky. But nothing beats knowing that our stardust paths decided to cross somewhere and I will be eternally grateful for that. 

“I’m proud of you, Josh” I stared into his eyes for a moment, “really, I’m so proud to know you.” Hearing the movie start, we both break eye contact to see the title screen pop up. 

Through some laughter, “Now, let’s see what horrible shit you decided to come up with.” 

I sat there and watched, cuddled up to Josh, and only had to look down a couple times throughout.  He was also aware that I’m not the biggest fan of horror in general, so I would get a little tap on my thigh, letting me know to look away. 

“It’s almost over,” he whispers, “I’m really happy that you’re here” pressing a gentle kiss to the top of my head. Sending little tingles through me, everyday I fall even more in love with him. 

Everybody begins to hoot and holler as it ends, causing Josh to quickly stand so he can graciously accept the praise. He will forever be the cutest man I laid eyes on as he does a little curtsy to each side, relishing in his achievement. I can’t help the fact my eyes are a little misty watching him, he has worked so hard for this that it’s nice to see him get to live his most authentic self. 

And as anticipated, we spent the rest of the evening talking to everybody- after watching the last two gore fest films of course. 

Josh was just elated to spend time talking to other film buffs and there wasn’t anything I could say that would stop that. So with that, I stood beside him all night and enjoyed the fresh fall air while he spoke endlessly about his love for film under the moonlight. 

Masterlist | Taglist

[freedomfireflies]

Into the Harryverse (kinda)

Say the girls are having a bad day and need some grounding.

How would each of your Harry’s react to there girl wanting to cockwarm him to be close?

AYOOOOOOOO THIS IS MY JAM!! okay let's go hehehe

Teach Me Harry (gotta start with him because duh):

You know this man is a slut for cockwarming, he absolutely suggests it before she does. Nuzzles under her jaw, kisses her, whispers, "What's wrong, lovie, hm? Just wanna make you feel better. D'ya need to be full? Will that help you smile?"

And she smirks because she can't stay sad when he's being so goddamn cute so she nods and he pulls her onto his lap, lets her do anything she wants with him!! And they stay that way at least for a few minutes, AND OUR POOR SOLDIER REALLY TRIES TO HOLD OUT AND STAY RELAXED FOR HER but you know he's gone after like the first three minutes so eventually they fuck and after that, she feels much, much better!!

Mine Harry:

Well we already know how that goes because of the extra so honestly it's about the same!!! He's always down to have her on him while he works or reads. And she falls asleep almost every time because he's just so warm and soft and gentle and feels so good!! And he loves it so much. And tries VERY hard not to get too aroused because he doesn't want to disturb her. But when she stirs and realizes his predicament, she's always down to take things to the next step HAHAH

One for the Money Harry:

I think she'd suggest it almost as a joke at first while he's sitting in bed one evening. He's all cute with his little reading glasses on, scrolling through his kindle, maybe reading a bit. So she asks to join him and he's like, sure whatever. But then she says she wants to sit on his cock and read with him and he's just....oh

So she gets on his lap, her back to his chest, and asks him to read aloud to her. So he tries, he really does, but she keeps clenching on purpose to distract him and goddamn her because it works and he throws the kindle across the room and splits her in half HAHAHA

iFall Harry:

LISTEN.............on the jet. He's flying to a show, and they're the only ones back there (not a coincidence by any means) and Harry suggests it because she's really anxious about being seen in public with him. And this is definitely the best distraction for her because the turbulence and also...he's so big and also....and also.....oof. Yeah 🙃

404 Harry (because I can't resist):

This man is so smug about it. She's pretending she's not having a bad day but let's be honest, he can read her like a book. She keeps spilling things, dropping things, growling at her computer. Her hair keeps falling out of the clip and she angrily shoves it back in, she's chewing the end of her pen like a fucking beaver, and she keeps snapping at him.

That's when he asks her (tells her) to meet him in the parking lot. And sometimes they have quick fucks in his old mustang, so she's thinking that's what this will be. But he just pulls her onto his lap, sits her down, and holds her still. And she's super confused because....this is not the point of why they meet.

But he just shushes her when she tries to argue and after a minute or two, she begins to calm down. Relax herself, relax her mind. And then she realizes that a good cockwarming really can solve at least two of her problems HAHAHAH

WAS THIS TOO MUCH I'M SO SORRY IF IT'S TOO LONG OR HARD TO READ BUT THIS WAS FUN, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING ME 😭💞💞💞💞

[mbavholidayexchange]

to: @rabidvampdude from: @doublemyheight

Title: In His Arms | Rating: Teen | Word Count: 2,162

It started with a simple task that Benny had been given, decorating the roof for Christmas. He and Grandma didn’t really celebrate Christmas in the traditional sense, but she had understood that he was a kid who was going to question why they didn’t. Before he knew about magic he had always thought it was because they weren’t particularly religious so she had changed Christmas around to fit what she wanted it to be, he still got presents though so he wasn’t made about it. Now he knew about magic he understood it a lot more.

Anyways, the roof decorating. He had been given the task two years ago which Grandma had heavily supervised, and it had gone really well. So today when he went down for breakfast Grandma had asked him to get one of his friends to help him with the task of decorating the roof.

Ethan was on a family vacation, he would be back in time for Christmas but he wasn’t here right now. And Sara and Erica had decided to go together to a concert or something, he wasn’t completely sure. That left Rory. Which, was something.

Listen, he liked Rory. Too much sometimes, the vampire was just too charming without even trying. Spending time with him was always fun, but the little bit of a crush he admitted to himself of having made him nervous to spend time with him.

He invited Rory to hang out while he put up the decorations, and Rory hadn’t been busy so he was there in a few minutes. It was cute whenever he was so eager to spend time with his friends.

Having someone who could fly was very helpful because Rory could both get the decorations and Benny onto the roof easily. No ladder necessary.

But something happened that changed the course of the roof decorating, which had been going rather well and Benny was proud about it.

First and foremost. (That was some bullshit he learned for English Essays but it fit well here.)

Benny would like to put it out into the world that the first time, for sure, was an accident on his part. He hadn’t meant to slip off of the roof as he was stringing Christmas lights up. Just one moment he was confident in not falling off as he reached for the next clip and the next he was falling to the ground.

Rory had been the only reason he didn’t get injured. The vampire had been floating, or maybe the word flying was the right word, and had been pretty close to him when he started to fall.

“Yo! Benny are you okay?!” There hadn’t even been time for Benny to scream when he realized he was falling before he had been caught. Out of pure concern for falling again Benny’s hands found themself grabbing onto Rory’s shirt.

“Uh.” Benny blinked at Rory for a moment, realizing how Rory had caught him. Bridal style.

Benny didn’t know how else Rory was supposed to catch him but the fact he was caught like this made a slight blush rise to his cheeks.

Hopefully, it was too cold for the vampire to notice.

“Yeah, um, I’m fine. Thank you for catching me.” He was so fine, the finest.

“I’m glad, you almost got hurt. Good thing I was here, right?”

“Yeah, good thing you were here.” He was very glad in fact.

Rory smiled at him before Benny felt them both rising slowly and gently Rory put him back on the roof. Steadying him with firm hands.

“Try not to fall off again. But if you do I’ll just catch you.” Rory smiled so wide, bright, and familiar that Benny smiled back.

And a small part of his brain thought of Rory keeping to that, of catching him again. Benny hadn’t minded the feeling of Rory holding him like that, the other was plenty strong enough to do it with ease. Maybe his heart would combust if Rory held him and smiled at him like that again.

He might as well try, shouldn’t he? What was the harm? Well maybe it would distress Rory but besides that, he didn’t see another excuse.

After a few minutes of working on the roof and making his way down, Rory flew next to him just quietly watching, he knew it was time to fall again.

With a deep breath, he loosened his footing and leaned toward the ground, his shoulder fell first and for a brief moment, Benny looked up at the blue sky. There was no panic just hope that Rory would catch him.

As fast as last time Benny felt arms almost scoop him from the air and Rory’s face was in his focus now.

“Woah! Benny, are you okay? You fell again!”

“I’m fine Rory, I’m fine.” Fuck Rory was pretty when he looked up at him like this, even if Rory’s eyebrows were furrowed and he looked concerned.

They were moving again and Benny hated it, moving meant Rory was putting him down and he didn’t want that. He wanted to stay in Rory’s arms for a little bit longer, just a little bit longer.

Benny tried his best to not keep the disappointment on his face.

“I’m fine Rory don’t worry.”

“Well I’m going to worry, do I need to get your grandma?”

“No don’t get her! I’m fine really. Just fell again.”

Rory was hesitant when he put Benny back on the roof. Which was fair if Benny thought about it, but really Rory should have held him more it was too comfortable in his arms.

“Thanks, Rory.” And Benny fully admitted to himself that he thanked Rory cause he wanted to be smiled at, which was successful.

A few minutes later he was falling off again, purposely so he would be caught, which he was by a even more worried looking Rory.

"Benny?! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine dude." Benny felt himself blush, he hoped that it just looked like he was cold.

"Are you sure I can't go get you help?"

"Come on Rory, I'm sure."

Benny turned back to decorating the roof and tried really hard to focus again but Rory was practically hovering beside him. So Benny decorated slower, partly cause he was distracted but also because he was paying attention to Rory silently next to him.

There was a sound off behind them which caused Benny to look over his shoulder at it, Rory looked over too and they saw a truck passing by, someone they didn't know inside it.

Rory floated up the rest of the way and sat on the edge of the roof, he had some kind of vampire thing that made it so he was aware if danger would come. The person probably didn’t know that vampires existed and it was some kind of survival thing for Rory.

Said truck driver waved at the two of them and Rory happily waved back, Benny nodded, and so the truck went by. Rory stayed on the roof. Benny continued decorating and got a few more feet ahead before he decided to fall off again. Rory was still watching him he could tell. The wind was cold and it blew over them and Benny wanted the warmth of being held.

“Woah!” Rory yelled as he caught Benny. “Benny!”

“Shit, sorry.”

“Fuck, that’s too many times now.” he paused, “I don’t think you should be decorating, I don’t want you falling again.”

He felt himself being lowered down bit by bit, slowly, and he was thankful for it. It gave him more time to be held by Rory, but at the same time, it meant he probably wouldn’t be held by Rory again. But, he was pretty sure he had worried him big time.

“Maybe you need to go eat something...”

“I’m fine Rory, but maybe you should decorate instead of me.”

“Yeah! I can do that!” Rory smiled a bit and placed Benny on the ground again. “Go eat something before you come back I’m worried.”

He nodded and went inside, maybe Rory was right and he needed to clear his mind from whatever was causing him to do that. Well, affection and a crush probably were messing with his better sense of judgment.

A few minutes later he was heading back outside, Rory had made good progress. Benny had gotten a snack and also brought out his speaker so he could put on music for the two of them.

He chose a song and laid on the ground looking up at Rory. He practiced a spell, one that was a bit childish, and made floating lights. Rory started singing along it was cute.

Eventually, when Rory was done he flew down from the roof landed next to Benny, and laid down with him. Looking up at the finished Christmas decorations, listening to music, being a little bit chilly on the ground.

“Do you think your Grandma will be happy with the roof?”

“Yeah, she will be. Thank you for your help, Rory.”

“Of course Benny, anytime. Are you feeling better now?”

Laying next to Rory he did feel better actually, it was nice. Really nice, a bit cold but a moment Benny wanted to remember. Maybe soon he would figure out how to tell Rory how he felt but until then he was stuck with a crush.

“Hey, do you have hot chocolate?”

“I do, do you want some?”

“Yeah, I do.”

He smiled and stood up, offering a hand to Rory just cause, which was taken. He led them inside, not letting go of Rory’s hand, fuck he was so gay.

They drank their hot chocolate together watching some movie Benny didn’t pay attention to, next to each other but not close enough. When his Grandma came home she said “Good job on the decorations” and he smiled to himself and told her to thank Rory for most of it. Which made Rory smile in turn.

---

Rory knew when Benny fell the second time that something was up. Of course he did, he knew Benny pretty well after all. At first he wasn't sure exactly why Benny was purposely falling off the roof but for sure he was doing it.

Maybe he was testing Rory to see what he would do? He wasn't completely sure.

The third time he had to catch him he was pretty sure Benny had been blushing, as well as the fourth. It was strange but Rory had seen Benny blush before so he knew what it looked like.

So he had put Benny on the ground, convinced him to go eat something and took over decorating. Which he patted himself on the back for being able to do so well. And after the two of them laid down on the cold ground for a while he asked for hot chocolate.

Not that he actually wanted some, but he just wanted to get Benny out of the cold.

Hours later he was still at Benny's house, playing Mario Kart together when Rory realized a possible reason for Benny's earlier actions. He was laying down but Benny was sitting up.

"Hey Benny do you mind if I try something?"

"What is it?"

"This."

Rory sat up, started to fly and then picked the other up bridal style once again.

"Whoah!"

"So I was thinking earlier about what could of been causing you to fall of the roof on purpose and I have come to the conclusion that you wanted to fly with me." It made perfect sense, Benny hadn't managed to do flight spells but he had tried multiple times to learn how. But if he wanted to fly with Rory then he would be happy to volunteer."

"What? Uh no that wasn't it."

"So you were falling off the roof because of something else? What was it?"

"Uh nothing, forget about it." Benny was holding onto Rorys shirt but he was saying nothing about still being held. Which confused Rory.

"But I want to know why?"

"It's nothing." Benny looked away, blushing.

Wait a fucking second.

"Do you like being held?"

Benny started sputtering but his blush grew.

"Oh! If you wanted that you could of just asked." Rory smiled. He wanted to hold Benny all of the time now, any chance he got, and any chance he was given. Benny was warm and it was a bit funny to want to be held like this, he wouldn't say it out loud though.

"No!" It sounded like a lie to his ears. "No that's, that's not it." He was still blushing.

And Benny closed his eyes and sighed, looking like he was thinking.

"I like you Rory," and Rory was about to respond when, "like I have a crush on you kind of like."

"Oh." Rory felt himself lift them both higher.

Fuck Benny had a crush on him? Him! No way!

"No way!"

"Yes way. I do."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure, I know that I do."

"Woah." Him!

Benny said he liked him! He was so fucking excited.

"I like you too!"

"Really?!"

"Yeah! I thought you were straight though but if you like me well fuck that. Do you want to go on a date? Please? Cause there's the Christmas light show and I always wanted to go there with someone I liked."

"I'd like that."

Benny smiled, and Rory smiled and his head hot the ceiling so they laughed and it was a good day.

[sophieswundergarten]

I know y'all are probably sick of me going on about Jackson and Jillson. But I was just thinking about their show characterization again.

Jillson is primarily the leader. She doesn't always start their dialogue, but she's the one who directs it. When the two of them are discussing something, she is the one who controls the conversation.

Jackson is more silly. I'm not sure (As has been up for debate) which one is older, but it feels like he's younger. He complains more, overreacts more, and even tends to be more expressive than Jillson.

In situations where Jillson will respond with a clipped sentence and a small smile, Jackson will echo with several extra descriptors and emphasizers. Jillson says "Alright" and Jackson will respond with "Absolutely, definitely".

During the initial tour they take the kids on, Jillson is the one who gives the bulk of the information. Jackson gives little statements that are more subjective, but he allows her to start off almost everything with a short informational speech before he takes his turn.

When they are discussing cleaning the server room, Jackson is the one bringing up complaints about why they have to do it and the way Jillson wants to get it done. Jillson patiently explains why Curtain has them do it, and why her system for cleaning is best. When Curtain tells them to be on the lookout for anyone who might be about to go blank at the compound, Jackson puts his whole body into pointing at someone who he thinks might be rubbing his neck. Jillson is the one who quickly dismisses it, and he listens to her and lets it go.

Jackson lets his face and his posture be constantly in motion. He smiles, nods and tilts his head, shrugs, points, readjusts himself, and gestures much more freely than Jillson, which is interesting because he's much taller than her. He takes up more space physically and emotionally.

Jillson, however, gives basically the same, tight, demure smile every time. She doesn't move as much, and holds her arms close to her sides. All of her movements are practiced and clinical. She moves with an impersonal efficiency, and it doesn't betray much of her personality.

I think it's interesting, because this clearly places her in a sort of "older sibling" position. She looks out for him, whether or not it's intentional, with her explanations and corrections. She doesn't seem to feel like she has the space to be a real person; she views herself as the "responsible one", and she has to stay within those parameters. Jackson is more open with his emotions, and while it doesn't necessarily make him seem naive, it does feel like he has more confidence, maybe because he has Jillson to rely on.

When they tackle Mr. Benedict to the ground and Jillson gets hurt, she immediately catalogues it as her shoulder being dislocated, and while she cries out because it is very painful, she sounds relatively calm. Jackson scrambles to his feet as fast as possible and starts panicking. She attempts to reassure him, but he pulls her up and holds onto her as he goes to look for help.

Jackson is also the one who runs up to Curtain in their final confrontation. He is more impulsive, and gets up to the steps before Curtain stops him and he freezes. (Side Note: He runs like a goofball with his knees really high, but if you look at the scene where he's running next to Jillson, they're going the same speed, despite his legs being a lot longer. I wonder if that style of movement is something he adopted so he wouldn't ever get somewhere ahead of her) And, when he runs back to Jillson, she turns to him like she wants to reach out with her injured arm, but can't.

To me, this says that Jillson has more fear than Jackson. Maybe she went through more things before they met, maybe she got sent to the Waiting Room at some point, maybe Curtain threatened her or accidentally scared her in some way. She doesn't want him to go through what she did, and she tries to keep him in line and calm him when something happens. Jackson, on the other hand, seems to have less weight on him. He is still striving to be the absolute best he can and do well for Curtain, but he doesn't have as clear a picture of what failure means. Also, he relies on Jillson more visibly. He gets scared when she is, or when she gets hurt. Jillson relies on Jackson like someone standing against a wall; more subtle, but still needing him. She wants reassurance and for them to be together, but some part of her can't help but feel that she is the one responsible to make that happen.

I don't really know what to do with this whole analysis, but I was thinking about it a lot, and I wanted to write it up.

[phantomspiderr]

By Any Means ║ Part 7

Pairing: Joel Miller x *f!reader

Word Count: 2.1k+

Summary: you take too much of a risk while dealing with some infected and joel is not pleased with that decision

Warnings/Tags: tlou hbo spoilers, trauma, canon level violence, cursing, infected, death, use of guns, little angsty but there's a happy ending I swear

a/n:

*no real description of reader or gender as far as I know but I've written it with a female reader in mind

series masterlist | phantomspiderr masterlist

Joel’s hand clamps over your mouth just as you're about to give the all-clear, quietly shushing you. For a second you’re confused, and then you hear it again, the faint sound of a clicker in the distance. How on earth Joel, the deaf old man that he is, managed to hear that before you is beyond you. Slowly, he removes his hand and you turn back to him. Both you and Ellie look at him for direction, trusting him enough to get you out of this maze of tunnels unharmed. None of you speak, not wanting to risk your voices echoing and attracting the rogue clicker and whatever else is hanging around. Joel silently points in one direction and then up and even though you’re not entirely sure what he means you nod, Ellie copies your action and Joel moves in front of you to take the lead. As quietly as you can, you both follow Joel. Ellie sticks to your side like glue, both of you holding your pistols and looking around the dimly lit tunnel. Out of nowhere, Ellie shoves you quickly before you fall into a hole in the ground, but causes you to yelp out in surprise. Joel snaps around to look at you both, all of you freezing in place as you all listen. Suddenly, there are sounds of movement and the clicker certainly sounds closer.

“Move!” He still speaks quietly, hoping that the infected couldn’t pinpoint exactly where you were. Now, you’re rushing, Joel moves fast, and you manage to get Ellie in front of you, between you and Joel, as the undeniable sound of infected running gets louder and closer. You keep looking back as you jog along the edge of the tunnel, and you can see shadows moving in the distance now, that familiar panic spreading throughout your body. You’re too focused on the impending doom coming towards you that you run straight into the back of Ellie. Both she and Joel had stopped in front of a door, the blood rushing in your ears drowning out all the sound of them talking. Joel’s shoving the door, and it barely budges, Ellie’s panic is evident on her face and that instinct to protect her hits you again. Immediately, you move and help Joel with shoving the door, it starts to give, opening enough that Ellie can get in. Joel’s shouting for her to move whatever’s blocking the door because now you can see the infected, and they’re coming quick. There’s only maybe a handful, but you’re low on ammo and there are not really a lot of options on where to go.

“Hurry up kid!” Joel pulls his rifle off his shoulder, rummaging in his pocket to see how many rounds he had.

“Hold on, I’m trying! This shit’s heavy!”

“Joel.” For the first time in a long time, you’re terrified, you’ve been scared since outbreak day but this, this was pure fear you’d only started to feel since reuniting with Joel.

“We’re ok!” You find that hard to believe as the infected become clearer as they get closer. “Look at me,” one of his hands holds your face as you look back at him, “we’ll be okay.”

Then it’s back to surviving, his hands firmly aiming the rifle now toward the oncoming runners. Your own slightly shaky hands raise your pistol, readying to shoot as soon as Joel gives you the go-ahead.

“Ellie!” Joel calls out again, right before his finger slides onto the trigger.

“Got it!” The door flies open as Joel shoots, clipping one of the runner's shoulder and causing it to tumble to the ground before quickly moving back to its feet. Your pistol goes off just milliseconds after Joel shoots, and you manage to kill the one you’d been aiming for with a few shots. Faintly you can hear Joel speak, but it doesn’t register, you’re solely focused on the infected. Now you’re rapidly shooting at the clicker who’s dangerously close until your pistol clicks. Joel’s hand comes down hard on your arm, and he drags you in the direction of the door as he shoots at the runner that’s coming straight for you. Just in time, you’re pulled through the door and Ellie slams it before assisting Joel with shoving some heavy piece of machinery back to barricade the door. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Your mind finally snaps back into place when Joel shouts at you. It had felt like you were just watching the whole thing from above. Like you weren’t in control at all, on some sort of autopilot, just trying to keep the people you love safe. Now you were in a hazy consciousness and Joel was mad about what happened? 

Suddenly you’re back to the night before you left, he’s drunk, and he’s shouting at you for a simple mistake. He’s mean, and you’re scared of him, not that he’d ever physically harmed you, but because you’ve seen the kind of harm he can cause. 

The adrenaline in your veins heightens your emotions to the point your vision blurs with tears. You don’t know really know why you’re feeling this way, but it’s overwhelming. 

“Let’s just get out of here, huh?” Ellie nudges Joel’s arm, both of them looking away from you long enough for you to quickly rub at your eyes. You hadn’t even realised the infected were banging on the door until Ellie spoke, the sound not completely registering in your brain. 

Joel doesn’t say a word when he looks back at you then he just marches past, sheepishly you look away from him as he passes. You don’t even want to look at Ellie as she moves to follow Joel, but she gently touches your arm. The pair of you share a brief look that can only be described as her checking you’re okay before she moves up the staircase after Joel. You were obviously too out of it to even realise you were in a stairwell. 

You don’t know what’s been wrong with you the last couple of weeks, things like this kept happening, and you’d been even more protective of Joel and Ellie than usual. Maybe it was just one too many close calls, one after another. Maybe you’d been making riskier decisions just to make sure they were safe. It wasn’t the first time Joel had snapped at you for doing so, and you know as soon as you settle somewhere for the night you’ll get a lecture. He’ll tell you to be more careful and that risking your life like that is stupid, and that’s almost exactly what happens. 

The three of you make it out of the tunnels without seeing another infected. In silence, you all walk in whatever direction Joel chooses, Ellie, being the only one to occasionally ask questions. 

Eventually, you make it somewhere Joel deems safe to rest for a few minutes. There’s a stream a few feet away from where you’ve set yourself on the ground, and Ellie goes straight to it. You awkwardly pick at blades of grass, trying your best to act like you don’t see Joel’s worn boots in front of you. 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” His voice is softer than you had expected, and it catches you a little off guard. “I’m responsible for you two and you gotta listen when I-“

“You’re not responsible for me.” Suddenly, you furiously look up at him. Is this what it was all about? He felt like he had some responsibility to keep you alive, like Ellie? Why? Because you knew each other a long time ago? “I’ve taken care of myself pretty fine without you.” 

You’re clambering to your feet now, not even fully contemplating what you’re doing, you just know you need a minute. So, you walk off in the opposite direction to where Joel’s stood, wanting to clear your head. 

“Don’t you dare take off on me again!” This time he completely takes you off guard, and you freeze in place. That wasn’t your intention, you don’t think you could leave him —or Ellie—even if you tried. “Darlin’, please.”

Your eyes shut tightly, hearing him call you that again, it had been far too long since you’d last heard that nickname uttered from his mouth. You feel his hand unexpectedly touch your shoulder and your breath shudders. His closeness welcome after days of fighting with one another. When you turn to face him, you can see the sadness in his eyes. In your years apart, it seemed like that harsh coldness he once had begun to melt away. Leaving him more vulnerable, more like the Joel you once knew. The hand that had been on your shoulder moves up to hold your cheek as your own hands seem to find their place holding onto his jacket. 

“I can’t lose you again.” It’s probably the most sincere thing he’s said in years, and you can tell he means it wholeheartedly. 

“I’m not gonna fucking leave!” Your hands travel up to his chest, lightly shoving him for no real reason. “I care too much about you- and her now.” You briefly glance over to where Ellie is still situated by the stream, probably doodling in the journal she found. “And I can’t lose you again either.” 

Joel visibly relaxes after hearing that, he lets out a deep breath that he’d obviously been holding on to. Then he’s tugging you into his chest, enveloping you in his arms, and it takes you a second to sink in. Your hands slide down his chest and around to rest on his back, under his open jacket. Joel’s head rests on top of yours that’s tucked into his neck, someone hadn’t been hugged like this in so long, and it’s only now you think maybe you’re touch starved. Years of keeping to yourself and not getting too close to anyone had resulted in some lonely days and nights. You find yourself holding onto him tighter, squeezing your eyes shut, hoping it’s not all a dream.

“I’m real, darlin’, and you’re gonna break a rib if you hold on any tighter.” You can feel the chuckle rumbling through him as he speaks, and you pull away from him enough to look up at him with slightly apologetic eyes. Joel doesn’t say anything else, but you can see him thinking, his eyes moving across your face and his hand coming back to hold the side of your head. 

Momentarily, you forget you’re both older. You forget you’re in the middle of nowhere, walking to the other end of the country that’s trying to kill you at every turn. Just for a small chunk of time, you think you’re younger and madly in love with a man you met by chance. You’re just smiling up at him, waiting for the moment he finally decides to kiss you because he always liked to take his time. You always knew when it was coming, you’d learned his tells. He’d wet his lips and swallow, then pause for just a second before he’d pull you closer, and you’d melt into him. Sometimes you’d kiss until you couldn’t breathe, and other times it would just be a little peck or two. He’d even occasionally quickly kiss your lips before kissing all over your face, holding you firmly in his arms while you giggled and begged him to stop. You wished things would be like that again-holy shit.

You watch as Joel’s tongue darts out, and he swallows hard before he sharply looks over his shoulder, toward Ellie, and turns back to you. He pauses briefly again and looks into your eyes, enough to make you swoon.

“Fuck it.” Joel swiftly dips his head to capture your lips with his own, and somehow immediately you’re in sync. Like no time had passed between you at all like you were those two people madly in love two decades ago. Maybe you were still those people, deep down. 

Suddenly, you part from each other at the sound of whooping, both Joel and your hands flying to your weapon holsters, thinking the worst. Only to find Ellie cheering from where she sat by the stream.

“Finally!” Her hand shakes in the air in celebration, and she’s softly laughing. You can’t help but start to giggle yourself, especially when Joel turns back to you with disbelief written all over his face.

“She has a point.” You still giggle even when Joel shakes his head, his demeanor softening again. His hands just pull you back into him, his arms wrapping around your shoulders, and he’s holding you close again as if to silence your laughs. You relax back into his hold, grateful to have this precious moment in the center of all this chaos.

......

[auxiliarydetective]

Love and War, Chapter 5

Heartbeat

i. | ii. | iii. | iv. | v. | vi. | vii. | viii. | ix. | x. | xi. | xii. | xiii.

AO3

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Don took the very last drag of his cigarette. He tried to get every bit of warmth from it that he could but finally had to breathe the smoke out into the freezing cold air. With a flick of his finger, he threw what was left of his Lucky Strike to the ground and squished it with his boot. For a moment, he contemplated taking another, but then decided against it. He would save what he had for another night. He had already given one to Muck and Penkala each, and would now save up the rest. After all, it might be a long time before Luz was charitable enough again to give him another pack, and his supply had to be limited too. What a lovely Christmas, Don thought as he looked up into the night sky. Up there, he found nothing. It was a dark, starless night - not even the moon was visible. If only Operation Market Garden had been a success, they could have all been home by now. Or at least in Aldbourne, with some warm food in their stomachs and a roof over their heads. Instead, they were dug in for the night, waiting for someone to open fire again.

Don let his mind wander back to their last stay in Aldbourne. Immediately, he had to think of Anita. Where was she now? What was she doing? He had thought about her in Normandy too, but this was even worse. This time, she wouldn’t be there waiting for him in England. She was out there somewhere, maybe in Africa, maybe in the Pacific, maybe in Europe, and she was facing the war without him. He still remembered the last night they had had together. The words “I love you” played over and over in his head like a broken record. “Somehow, we’ll find each other again,” she had said. But when? At least she had kept her promise to write a letter. It had been addressed to Bull as, in her words, “the most responsible of you rascals”, but had started with “To whom it may concern”, making it a message to all her friends in the company. Dutifully, Bull had read the letter out loud many times and Don had taken every chance to listen. According to the letter, Anita had just finished her training and was, at the time of sending it, waiting to be shipped out to a theater of war to put that training to good use. They had trained her in skills like cooking (her least favourite), handling mail, first aid and – her favourite – repairing and maintaining weapons. She had also claimed she now knew how to “run away with style” since she was supposed to stay away from combat situations. Along with the letter, she had sent a postcard from Iowa and a newspaper clipping of a caricature that she had really liked. But the way she had signed the letter was what had stuck with everyone the most: Love, Anita, with a lipstick mark red as roses next to it.

A smile spread across Don’s lips. He could see her image clearly in his mind. The brown uniform with its shiny buttons and branch insignia, the overseas cap placed neatly on her braided, chocolate-colored hair, the soft lips, the large, amber eyes…

That was when he got the feeling someone was staring at him. He must have drifted off very far. Really, when he slid back into reality, Muck and Penkala’s eyes were pinned on him, grins plastered on their faces. The moment he looked at them – he had to look very bewildered – they couldn’t help but laugh.

“What?” he asked, trying to find out what was so funny.

Then, he looked up, right into a pair of large, amber eyes.

“Dreaming a little dream of me, weren’t you?”

“Annie!” Don gasped and jumped out of the foxhole, wrapping her in his arms. In his joy, he pressed a kiss on her lips. Who cared if others were watching?

How wrong his image of her had been. Anita was standing there in a woolen overcoat just like his own, the same greenish pants and boots underneath, the same helmet on her head, her formerly soft lips just as coarse from the cold.

“Yes, actually, I was dreaming of you. What are you doing here?” Don asked, holding her by the arms, still not ready to let go of her.

“My unit’s stationed in Bastogne,” Anita explained. “One squad of WACs, we work at HQ. - I have a nice little surprise for you.”

“Nicer than you being here? That’s impossible.”

“I’ve got mail from home.”

She pulled three letters out of the bag draped over her shoulder, handing them out to Muck, Penkala and Don.

“They can send us mail, but they can’t get us proper winter clothes?” Penkala complained, but he tore the letter open in an instant.

“They came with the last supply drop, wedged between the items,” Anita explained. “I was only supposed to drop them off here and leave, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see you and give them to you personally. Captain Winters let me, as a Christmas gift.”

“You being here is the best gift I could’ve asked for,” Don beamed.

“I’d say ‘get a room’,” Muck murmured, “but then I’d be jealous of the warmth.”

Suddenly, an explosion boomed a few dozen feet away, bringing the conversation to an abrupt halt.

“Come on, get in here!” Don called and grabbed Anita by the sleeve.

He pulled her down into the foxhole and was met with no resistance. Down there, there had only been enough space for three people, not four. Squished between Don and the wall, Anita felt trapped. More hits followed, some eerily close. That was when a voice cut through the noise.

“MEDIC!”

“Damn it,” Anita hissed and jumped to her feet.

“What are you doing?” Don called against the barrage, trying to pull her back down. This time, she shook him off.

“I may not be a medic, but I can help!”

Before anyone could say anything to stop her, she sprinted off in the direction the call had come from. Soon, she could make out three silhouettes behind a cloud of smoke. One man was lying on the floor, two others were tending to him.

“Sergeant!” one of them called out to her. It was Captain Nixon. “Get the jeep you came with! We need to get him to the aid station!”

Immediately, Anita turned around on her heel and ran off. She was headed for the clearing with Winters’ hut where she had parked the jeep, weaving between trees, praying that there weren’t any roots beneath the snow that she could trip over. The moment she sat in the driver’s seat, she could feel her heart jumping out of her chest. But there was no time for rest. She started the engine and drove back the way she had come from. When she reached them, Nixon and the other man – whom she recognized as Winters – carried the wounded to the jeep. He was placed on the hood, right where Anita could see him. His face was pained and almost lifeless, like he was about to pass out. It was now that the pressure really got to her. She was driving. She was in charge of getting him to the aid station. His life was in her hands, along with the steering wheel. Just before she was about to drive off, Doc Roe climbed onto the jeep. She remembered the day she had been introduced to him. A kind man that had saved many lives. Now, he looked exhausted.

“Go!” she heard and so she set off in the direction of Bastogne.

Everything around them was pitch black, the headlights of the jeep barely enough to illuminate the path. The darkness made Anita worry if she was going the right way, but she had to be. She needed to trust herself now. This was no time for insecurity.

But as they went further on, a grim image started to form itself. In the distance, gunfire flickered. Explosions swept over the hills. The closer they got, the clearer everything became. Anita knew these sounds well enough by now. This was an air raid. They were driving into an air raid on Bastogne. One of many. When they reached the first streets, the destruction was everywhere. The noise was deafening. Still, Anita kept her hands tightly on the steering wheel and drove down the main road.

Doc Roe threw himself protectively over the wounded, trying to shield him since he couldn’t shield himself. They were close now. Almost there. But then, a bomb landed right in the church up ahead, smashing the windows. The aid station. They had hit the aid station. A wall to the left of the jeep burst apart, forcing Anita to swerve to the right. She choked as the dust got in her lungs. In the middle of the chaos, she stopped the jeep not far from the smoking building. Immediately, Doc Roe jumped off, but then froze. People came stumbling out of the church, cowering and coughing. Then, he started running, running towards the aid station. Anita stayed behind in her seat, trying to calm her heartbeat. This was not the first time she had been in an air raid, but it still shook her to her core. A medic approached the van, checking on the wounded. He was in better hands now. He would make it. A bit shakily, Anita got off the van and started walking off, down the street. She was headed towards headquarters. Her task was done, now she needed to return to work. This air raid would not stop her. But it wasn’t meant to be.

When she reached headquarters, there was nothing left. The explosions faded into the background as she tried to process what she was seeing. The building was in ruins. Only the left side was still halfway standing, the rest had completely crumbled. Underneath the rubble, Anita spotted a body, an arm with a dark sleeve and a pale white hand. She scrambled across the bricks only to stumble and almost fall, revealing another body under the stones her feet had pushed off. Her heartbeat forcing her to shallowly breathe, she kept walking, eyes pinned on the ruins beneath her boots. Underneath a mountain of shingles, she found two entwined hands, one wearing an engagement ring. Finally, when she had reached the center of the building, she saw a face under the rubble. Pale skin, almond-shaped eyes and a birthmark on the left cheek. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, but it all got stuck in her throat. As if in a trance, she stumbled back across the ruins, towards the jeep. There, Doc Roe stood, hands in his pockets, looking down. Silently, she stood next to him, leaning against the jeep.

“What’s wrong, Doc?” she heard herself say.

For a while, he said nothing. “I lost someone,” he finally said.

“I’m sorry.”

“What about you, what happened to you?”

“I… I lost headquarters. With everyone inside.” Saying it felt like swallowing a bullet. Saying it made it real. Immediately, she felt herself choking on it. She suppressed a sob, forced back her tears.

“You lost your entire unit?”

“Yup. … What do I do now, Doc?”

For a while, there was silence. It seemed the bombing was over. For some reason, everything being quiet was scarier than the explosions before. It was empty. Left you alone with your thoughts.

“I’m taking you back to Captain Winters,” Doc Roe decided. “He’ll figure something out.”

So, Anita climbed back on the jeep. This time, Doc Roe drove. She didn’t look back at Bastogne, only staring ahead, into the distance. The future was uncertain now. To be honest, it made her scared. She had almost gotten used to the explosions and the gunfire, but to have the ground beneath her feet pulled from her like this… What would happen to her now?

Finally, they pulled up to the hut in the clearing. Captain Winters was there, along with Captain Nixon. Winters looked at the jeep when it pulled up but seemed to notice nothing off. That was when Anita realized: She looked just like a soldier. From afar, there was no difference. Well, almost none. She was lacking the markings on her helmet, but aside from that… The same boots, the same uniform, no face recognizable. In fact, one might not even be able to tell if she was carrying a gun or not. Would the Germans even care?

A little helplessly, she looked at Roe. This had been his idea. Luckily, he looked like he would be taking responsibility for it. He nodded at Anita assuringly. Then, he walked towards the hut, Anita following behind.

“Captain Winters?”

Winters turned around. It was only now that he recognized Anita.

“Do you have more mail?” he asked, a hint of a smile forming on his lips.

“No, sir,” Anita replied, swallowing down the lump forming in her throat. “My unit was wiped out, along with headquarters. I don’t know where to go.”

“And you come to the frontline?” Nixon questioned.

“It’s the last place she was sent to,” Winters said. “If anyone comes looking for her, they’ll start searching here. I just want you to know that this is far from the safest place.”

“Bastogne isn’t safe either, sir,” Anita commented. “I was trained to handle combat situations, I’ll survive.”

Nixon looked at her doubtingly, but Winters’s expression remained at the very least neutral.

“What else were you trained to do?” he asked.

Dutifully, Anita responded: “Cooking, handling mail, first aid and repairing and maintaining weapons, secretary duties... I know how to mend clothes, too, if that’s worth anything.

Winters nodded. “I think we can find work for you. That way you have something to do. Wouldn’t that be better than just sitting around and waiting?”

Wouldn’t that be better than just sitting around and letting your thoughts consume you?

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright. For now, get in a foxhole. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“Yes, sir.”

She saluted the officers and turned around. Doc Roe walked away with her, in the direction of the frontline. Behind her, she could hear Nixon complaining about how he thought this was a bad idea, how she would get in the way, how she would turn into a problem. But Winters defended her.

“Doc…?” Anita said carefully. “Can you take me to Don’s foxhole? I don’t know if I can find it by myself right now.”

“Malarkey?”

“Yeah. I… I feel safe with him.”

He nodded and walked off across the snow. She followed, her knees growing weak. Don was her light now. Her hope. Maybe he could provide her with new ground to stand on. Doc Roe led her through the snow and the trees until pointing at a spot in the distance. Anita could hardly see the foxhole but then she spotted movement.

“Thanks, Doc,” she said quietly.

“Good luck,” he replied, patted her shoulder, and left.

Anita took a deep breath. Then, she walked over to the foxhole. It became clearer and clearer to her. The noise her boots made on the snow must have announced her arrival, because Don, Muck and Penkala turned around in the foxhole and peeked over the edge.

“Annie?” Don gasped.

“Mind if I join you?” Anita asked weakly.

Perplexed, Don scooted over and made space for her. She climbed into the foxhole and sat down on the ground, suddenly feeling the exhaustion.

“Anita, what happened?” Muck asked.

“They bombed Bastogne. HQ was destroyed. Everyone’s dead. Everyone except me anyway. Merry fucking Christmas.”

Gently, Don pulled her into his chest. He took off her helmet and gave her a kiss on the head before putting it back on. Tears crawled into Anita’s eyes. This time, she couldn’t stop them. In the tight space, she buried her face in Don’s chest, trying to hide from the world. She had promised herself not to cry, that she would stay strong, that she would face whatever happened bravely. People died in a war; she knew that now. She should have always known and maybe she had, but to have it happen to someone so close to her… She had lost Tessa. Tessa, who had been with her ever since their recruitment. Tessa, who she had shared everything with. Tessa, who had volunteered to go give out those letters instead of her. She could have been saved if only Anita hadn’t been so stubborn, so obsessed with going to the frontline. All Anita wanted was that the exhaustion would finally take her out, make her fall asleep, put those thoughts to rest. But that salvation never came.

[burnbeforepod]

"After the Wedding" by Sam O'Brien

It was only a year since Dave was best man at Brendan and Andrea’s wedding. As the best man, Dave had organised the rehearsal dinner the night before. The whole event had nearly turned into a disaster. Dave had walked in on Brendan and Joe arguing in the small toilets.

“Why don’t you like her?”

“Because she is below you!” Joe exclaimed, his face red from too much alcohol and spittle flying from his mouth.

“I love her. Isn’t that enough? I don’t care for class. I am marrying Andrea and that is that!” Brendan huffed crossly.

“Good God Brendan! Can’t you see she will bring you down? If you told me who she was, then I could be a little more organised. Invite the right people. Help with her dowry. Maybe buy some little less fancy clothes.”

“I’m not listening to this,” said Brendan quickly and left the toilet. He pushed past Dave and stormed out of the toilet. Dave followed him just in time to see Brendan standing frozen near the stage and table of honour in front of Andrea who had obviously heard the argument too.

The wedding surprisingly went on without a hitch – if you don’t count Andrea’s bridesmaids getting so drunk that no one could hear Joe’s speech over the noises they were making.

Now a year later, Dave tried to find ways to keep the peace.

They talked about Dave’s detective business, noting that the police seemed to solve the cases quicker than he could. He hoped that he would get another case soon as he was running out of money quickly. They watched as a parent lit the bonfire in the pit and some older children flew a kite dangerously close to the gum tree.

“How’s the marriage going?” Dave queried as he flipped the steaks on the wood fired barbecue.

“Better now,” Brendan said enthusiastically. “I think Andrea might have accepted the fact that Joe had said the wrong thing that night.”

“And I’m starting to like her.” Joe interrupted, “Even if she is not our class.”

As he said this, Dave could see Andrea walking up to the group. As Joe expressed his opinion, her face went dark with anger. Her pace quickened and she surprised Brendan and Joe as she came into their line of sight.

“I’m going to town to get more salad and pick up the cake.” Her voice was crisp and clipped.

She turned and walked briskly away, ignoring her husband as he fruitlessly called, “Don’t cut yourself with those new keys,” and to the others he said, “It’s probably an excuse to go get her bridesmaids. I knew that they would get drunk before this arvo even began.”

The party was packing up when they saw Andrea again. Joe had left with the steak knives he had brought to put them back into his car. The women were cleaning and the men were drinking and smoking, waiting for the promise of cake as the last of the sun’s light faded, giving into night.

That’s when everyone heard the scream. It echoed off the trees, amplifying it by twofold, shrill and piercing. Everyone ran towards the source of the noise only to find Andrea She was sobbing on the ground. Beside her was Joe; dead. There was blood on the grass and staining the pavement. Each spurt of the blood made a disgusting splash, strengthening the metallic smell in the air. The police and ambulance arrived one after the other, their sirens wailing in unison with Brendan’s voice. The red, blue and white lights lit up the scene like a disco. Dave stood there, feeling no emotion but curiosity as the local constable and doctor gasped in surprise and horror as they took in the sight. They quickly went to work, cleaning up the disgusting mess and putting Joe on a stretcher. After being questioned, Andrea promptly left, not even saying goodbye.

Brendan and Dave retreated to the living room as everyone left. Dave was unusually excited. He had the perfect crime. Gruesome, yet solvable – he hoped.

He established that the only people in the neighbourhood that wasn’t in the house was Andrea and the bridesmaids. He also noted that the wounds looked like they had been stretched after the initial puncture. And that the holes were the size of a steak knife.

“This means that it mustn’t be the steak knives,” Dave concluded quickly. He was pacing now and each time his shoe hit the wooden floor, it made a sharp clicking sound.

“What other thin, sharp objects were at the crime scene?” Brendan asked, beginning to get depressed. He was sitting on a floral couch, slumped. There was a minute silence as they both thought.