#I posted the last day 12 hours after I normally post so I think I skipped a day

[daily-fleshpanopticon]

[day 10] cheesed to meet you

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[jakesduskwood]

even statues crumble if they're made to wait

Pairing: Jake x Fem!MC

Genre: Post-Episode 10 Duskwood, Post-Episode 1 Moonvale

Words: 8,916

Summary: It's been three months since the explosion in the mine. Three months since Hannah was found. And MC's accepted that Jake is never coming back. When she gets roped into another missing person's case, it makes for the perfect distraction. Jake is dead. It's fine. That is, until she finds herself on the phone with Alan Bloomgate who says he has something to show her. But it's fine. Jake is dead.

Until he's not.

EPISODE-1 MOONVALE SPOILERS AHEAD (MAYBE)!

[ A/N: Hello! :)

I know it's been a while since I've done this, but I finished Moonvale Episode 1 and if you've seen the ending (and used its Duskwood code), you know what happened and how excited I was to receive that bit of Duskwood. So, I took it and ran with it, and out came this extremely long fic. I did not proofread this as it took me literally almost 12 hours to write so it is completely and 100% me and my love for Jake and I hope you love it.

Side note: I suck with anything related to timelines, so I made one up on my own. I know Episode 1 of Moonvale takes place over the course of a day or two, but for the purpose of this fic, it made sense to make it longer, so it's not a typo, or me losing my mind, it's just the way my brain processed this.

Enjoy! :) ]

It’s been three months since the explosion in the mine.

Three months since Richy had been killed. Three months since Hannah was rescued. Three months since I had last spoken to Thomas or Cleo or Lilly or…or Jessy. I didn’t blame her then and I don’t blame her now. Any of them, really. I didn’t share the bond they had with each other. I wasn’t from Duskwood. It didn’t matter that we’d experienced a tragedy together—and yes, perhaps them more than me, but I loved Richy too. I had lost Richy too. And Jake—

But mostly, I think they just wanted to forget. To move on. They didn’t want to remember that their friend had been capable of…of that. And I was a constant reminder of that to them. So I understood why we didn’t necessarily talk anymore.

The one person I did keep in contact with from Duskwood, oddly enough, other than the occasional update from Alan Bloomgate, was Dan. We weren’t best friends or anything, but he allowed me to check in on our friends in a way that I didn’t know how to do with anyone else. Maybe because I thought he was the least affected among them. I knew he cared about Hannah, but he wasn’t to her what Thomas or Cleo or Lilly were. And he wasn’t to Richy what Jessy had been.

I’d learned from him that Thomas and Hannah had broken up. There was no bad blood, but Thomas hadn’t quite figured out how to accept the things he’d learned about his girlfriend when she’d been gone, and Hannah hadn’t quite figured out how to re-trust someone after Richy. Even if that person was Thomas. But I’d hoped they would find their way back to each other in the end.

I thought about reaching out to Jessy every once in a while—even just as an apology for everything that had happened. I’m sorry that Hannah was found at the expense of Richy. I’m sorry that he did this to you. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. We should have. We should have. We should have. I miss you. But I never send it. I’m not all that sure she’d respond anyway.

Cleo and I were never all that close. She has her best friend back, so I think she’s probably as okay as she can be. Helping Hannah find a new kind of normal in a time where her childhood friend had kidnapped her in order to prove a point. I don’t know how you come back from that—I don’t know how you come back from knowing that you killed somebody at all.

I hadn’t found the courage to ask if somebody had told Hannah about Jake.

Not that I think it would matter anyway. I hadn’t heard from him since before the explosion in the mine, which was, like I said—three months ago. I waited the appropriate amount of time—twenty-five days—before I broke down and concluded that maybe he hadn’t survived. Which just piled a shit-ton of guilt onto my shoulders because it was supposed to be me in that mine. He had gone in place of me and now he was dead.

It was the only explanation that made sense. I was used to Jake disappearing for days at a time, but never as long as he had been now. And he didn’t seem like the type to tell me he loved me and then leave without a single explanation. Not unless he had to. But it had been three months and as much as I missed him, as much as my chest ached with the thought that we would never eat Chinese food out of shitty motels and have that on-the-run ending we talked about, I had accepted that he wasn’t coming back.

I wonder if he had known about Richy or if he had died still thinking Michael Hanson was the one who had kidnapped Hannah. I wonder if his last thoughts were of me. Maybe it’s selfish, but I kind of hope they were, because I’m pretty sure I’ll think about him for the rest of my life.

I wonder what it would have felt like to run my hands through his hair. To kiss him. To spend every waking moment with him and know it was because I loved him. Because I would have. Talking to Jake became about more than just finding Hannah. It became a part of my day I looked forward to more than anything else. He confided in me in a way that told me he never had with anyone, maybe not even Hannah, and I needed that from somebody. I needed somebody to trust in me the way that Jake did. I needed somebody to love me the way that Jake did.

It was strange—and maybe a little ironic—the thought that something so beautiful could come out of something so tragic.

Anyway, my point is: it’s been a long couple of months. Of thinking about my friends. Of thinking about Jake. Of wondering if I should have done things differently. I should have gone to Duskwood to help. Not even with the mine, but sooner. I could have. I could’ve gone when Jessy was attacked on the way home. I could’ve gone when the group made plans to cut out of town and hide away in the house Richy had found. Selfishly, I should have. In that moment, when they were settled around the fire and Lilly called me, I had never remembered wanting anything more. I should have grabbed Jake—metaphorically, maybe even literally—and rode it out with them to the end.

I don’t stop missing them after three months. Of wishing things could have been different. Wishing I could have done more. But exactly ninety-five days after the explosion in the mine, seventy days since I had accepted that Jake was never coming back, twenty-two days since I had last heard from anybody from Duskwood (Dan included), my phone dings with a new message.

And the cycle starts all over again.

It’s somebody named Eric, who claims he needs my help to find his friend Adam, who disappeared while he was waiting for a ride in someplace called Redlog Pines. And much like with Duskwood, I have never heard of Redlog, and the case reminds me way too much of Thomas’ first message to me, so much that it makes my chest ache, but I can’t say no because there’s somebody missing, and if I’d say no the first time, God knows where Hannah would be.

So, I say yes, and I help out where I can, and Eric decides he needs to bring about four more friends in on his little plan and I try my best to stay emotionally unattached because I remember everything that happened the last time and I can’t go through that again. I offer up information when I can and keep my words short and careful because I’m not ready to get attached to somebody else I know I might never meet.

I know how this ends.

Two days in, Ash, one of Eric’s friends, brings up my Duskwood past and the unhealed wound I’ve been trying to mend breaks open again. She asks about Richy, and about the mine, and then because I’m me and I can’t help myself, I tell her about Jake. She tells me the news never mentioned another body and I shove that thought to the back of my head because hoping for something that will never come true will kill me.

Four days into Adam’s disappearance, and the police not giving a shit—as Charlie, somebody who reminds me far too much of Richy for comfort, points out—my phone beeps with an incoming call from somebody I haven’t spoken to in a while.

“Go for [MC].” I answer my phone.

Ever since Hannah had been found in the mine and Jake had…you know, my phone had been more silent than I’d gotten used to. Until this new case. But even that—it was only a few days old and I didn’t want to go down the same path with them that I did with my friends in Duskwood. We didn’t really know each other that long, sure—even though sometimes it’d felt like it—but it felt like I’d finally been a part of something. Like, I had found these people who had chosen me for me.

And originally, maybe they had. Maybe they’d had every intention of keeping me around, but then Richy was the Man Without A Face and Alan Bloomgate had rescued Hannah and nothing was the same as it had been when we’d met each other. We knew too many secrets about each other by the time the town settled. Secrets we would have to take to the grave.

Or maybe I’m losing my mind a bit and I had really only been a means to an end.

Either way.

“Alan?” I raise my voice when there’s nothing but breathing on the other end of the line. “Did you mean to call me?”

His tone is clipped. “I found something.”

“You found something.” I repeat.

My heart clenches. For all I know, it might fall into my stomach. As far I know, from watching the news, from what Ash told me, Jake’s body was never found. Richy’s was. Or what was left of him to find, anyway. I had assumed that there just hadn’t been enough of Jake left. The thought left me nauseous, but it was better than hoping for something I knew I could never have.

“I’m sending it to your phone now.” He responds. “Let me know what you think of this.”

And then he hangs up.

That was a riveting conversation, I think as my phone dings with a message. I do my best to ignore my other messages—contacts from Duskwood I’m still not ready to acknowledge—and click Alan Bloomgate. He sent me a video that looks like—oh God.

Immediately, I’m overcome with emotion as an all-too-familiar forest pops up on my phone. It’s a video of Alan’s bodycam footage. He’s searching the Duskwood forest. A forest I’ve seen too many times in the background of other video calls.

I watch as he stumbles upon an object that’s too dark to make out at first. When he gets closer, it’s clear that it’s a backpack. It’s simple. Black. Nothing about it that screams this is mine and I left it here about anybody in particular. You stupid, stupid idiot, I tell my heart when it rattles against my chest in hope. He’s dead.

Alan stands and treks away from the backpack—I want to scream at him to go back, to open it and look through it and tell me if it’s what my heart aches to believe, but I can’t, because this is a video and I’m simply watching with wide eyes, waiting for…for something. But then. But then, he moves further into the forest and I watch as he stumbles upon an object that makes my knees tremble and tears rush to my eyes and my hands shake. A black hoodie. It looks like it’s been through hell, with holes scattered up the sleeves and dirt cakes into the hood, but it’s unmistakably his.

And then—Alan lifts the hood and picks up something that makes me sink to my knees with a sob that wracks my entire frame. Because I’m staring at Jake’s mask. The mask he doesn’t go anywhere without. The mask that protects him. And so my relief is short-lived, because I realize that even if he’s alive—which seems like a very big possibility at this point—he’s alive without the things that he needs to survive.

And then the anger kicks in. Because if he’s been alive, on his own, for three months—why has he not contacted me? Unless he survived the mine but he didn’t survive the after. But that didn’t make any sense. So, okay, he wasn’t dead. But that didn’t make any sense either. He told me he wouldn’t let them catch him. Because catching that meant he would be apart from me. Did something happen that prevented him from being able to reach out and tell me he was at least okay? A quick text that said didn’t die in the explosion in the mine, you don’t need to mourn me, by the way, going off radar for another year. Did he think I would have given up on him?

I wipe my eyes and shoot a message to Alan.

ME: Recently?? Did nobody search the forests before?      

ALAN: Searched the forests for what, [MC]? The logical assumption seemed to be that if anybody was inside the mine when Richy set the fire, they would have perished alongside him. Officers were stationed outside every known entrance and exit. Besides, after the story you and your friends spun around this town, do you think anybody would have gone back into its forests?

ME: But it’s possible?

ALAN: I would say these items had been there for some time. But I would say it is likely he ditched them when he fled the mine, yes.

Another sob tears through my throat. Jake is alive. I don’t know quite what that means for us as of now, but I know it’s the best news I’ve heard since Hannah was found. Jake is alive. He’s out there somewhere. And even if it’s been three months, and even if I’m a little bit mad at him right now, I know that if he was here, I would throw my arms around his neck and hold on to him until someone dragged me off, and even then—I would fight kicking and screaming.

I close out of my messages with Alan and pull up a conversation I haven’t had the heart to look at in quite some time.

ME: Jake’s alive.

LILLY: …

LILLY: Have you spoken to him?

ME: Alan called. He found some of Jake’s things in Duskwood. I don’t know a lot of details. But I know he made it out of the mine.

Lilly types for a long while, but she doesn’t respond. I don’t take it personally. I think it’s probably hard for her to be happy that her brother’s okay while also trying to accept that her sister may never be okay again. Her sister, who had once-upon-a-time been kind-of-sort-of in love with their brother she didn’t know she had. I think that would probably mess with any family’s heads. And on top of all that, you throw in manslaughter and a kidnapping. I wouldn’t wish anybody, not even my worst enemy, to have had to go through what the Donforts had.

When it becomes adamant that Lilly isn’t going to respond, I start scrolling through messages with the rest of the group in Duskwood. I click on Jessy. I’m here if you need me. That had been the last thing I sent to her, a couple of days after Richy’s death. She hadn’t responded. I click out of Jessy’s contact and click on Thomas’ instead. Thank you for everything. That had been his last message to me after we found Hannah. I’d liked it. I hadn’t expected at the time it would be the last thing we’d ever say to each other. I click out of Thomas’ and click on Richy. So, you want to turn yourself in? I’d asked. That was before he called me. Before he lit a match and burned himself and the mine to the ground. Some people would call that heroic. I mostly call him a coward.

I click on Jake’s name. It’s been a while since I read messages between the two of us. Maybe before I had accepted—thought—he was dead. In that twenty-five-day period when I’d hoped with all I’d had that he would come back. I love you. That was the last message he sent me. I’d responded with I love you too, Jake. Then, four days later: Are you okay? A week later: Jake, please, you’re starting to scare me. I know you said you would contact when you could, but it’s been a week. After twenty-five days, when I had finally accepted our fate, I’d sent one final message: I hope you know that I love you, and I will always care about you, but I think it’s time for me to move on. I’m so sorry that I sent you into the mine. It should have been me. And I will probably feel the guilt from that for the rest of my life. Thank you for everything. Take care of yourself, wherever you are.

After that, I had closed out of our messages and hadn’t looked back. Partly because I couldn’t bear the pain of it. It felt like I had given up on him. I hadn’t—if I had thought for a second that he was alive, if I knew then what I know now, I would have never sent that message. But holding out hope for somebody who I thought was a ghost at the time? That was slowly killing me.

It’s only then that I notice the screen flickering. Much like the way it used to whenever Jake would hack into my phone. I don’t think he’s much in the mood to be hacking right now, but somehow, I know it’s him. When had he done this? Recently? If I had opened our messages, would I have seen this ten—twenty—even fifty days ago? It hadn’t looked like this the last time I texted him. Did he see my last message about needing to move on? Was that why he hadn’t reached out to tell me that he was okay? Because he thought I was moving on happily without him?

No, my brain supplies. He wouldn’t. He would reach out anyway, because he knows how much the thought of him not being okay would have destroyed you.

The screen flickers once more and then a message pops up, bright and blue-tinted and clear as day on my phone.

[MC]

I WILL FIND YOU

And the world around me shifts.

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

Maybe it sounds crazy, considering I’ve never seen his face before, but I always thought that if I’d ran into Jake one day, maybe on the street or at one of those motels he stayed at or maybe even in Duskwood, surrounded by all our friends, I would know it was him. I would, because it’s him, and it’s me, and we’re the only two people who understand each other quite the way we do.

I still believe that.

I believe it when I book my flight to Duskwood (or rather, twenty miles outside of town, which is the closest airport). I believe it when I board the airplane and find a seat next to a mother with her screaming child and when I shoot off a quick text to Eric to let him know I’ll be MIA for the next few hours, but to message me if he needs anything—and I think about how much easier this case would probably be to solve if we had Jake.

Maybe it would have been harder to find Hannah without me, but I know damn well they would’ve never found her without Jake.

Dan picks me up from the airport. I haven’t told the others yet. Something about it felt off—like I shouldn’t message them and say hey, I know we haven’t spoken in a while, but I’m booking a flight to look into why my maybe-slash-not-really boyfriend left his belongings in a forest we really wish we could forget about, and by the way, can I crash at your place?

It’s quiet on the car ride back into town. I’m looking through my messages from Eric and the group from Redlog Pines and thinking about how I’m Duskwood with this group and I want so badly to laugh because it’s ironic, but Dan wouldn’t understand. He might just call me crazy. Better yet, he would ask how I manage to get myself into these situations, and really, I don’t have an answer for him.

“How have you been?” I ask, just to break the tension, as Charlie, in my messages, tries to persuade his friends to head back into that creepy cave in the middle of the forest. He’s going to get someone killed, I think.

Dan looks over at me. “Are you still with Hackerman?”

My chest squeezes. “His name is Jake, Dan. And we were never really together.”

“Hm.” He nods like he doesn’t quite believe me. “You already know mostly everything that’s been happening here. Thomas and Hannah called it quits. They say it was some mutual decision, but it’s hard to find them in the same room together. Jessy hasn’t been out with us since. I think we remind her too much of Richy. The group’s all changed.”

“And you?” I ask.

He gives me a cheshire-like grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’m always the same.”

We make it to Duskwood just as the sun’s going down. Much too late for me to try and trek through the forest and retrace the steps Jake might have taken that night. Not that I think it would help give me any clues as to where he might have gone, but mostly because I wonder if it will make me feel closer to him. We’ve never been in the same place before, and even if he’s not there now—he once was.

“Can you drop me at the police station?”

Dan blinks. “The police station.”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“We answered their questions for weeks, [MC]. I don’t think anything you have to tell them at this point is going to help. The investigation’s closed. Everybody knows Richy did it. He died with the fire in the mine. Everybody’s trying to move on from that.” He works his jaw. “Did you come here to open old wounds after all this time?”

I try not to show the hurt look on my face. “This isn’t about Richy. Look, Alan called me. He asked if I could look at some things. I figured it was better for me to do it in person. That’s it. Nothing to do with Richy. Nothing to do with Jessy. Nothing to do with you.”

He sighs, and I’m not entirely sure he’s going to abide by my wishes until we pull in front of a tiny building—tinier than most—that says Duskwood Police on the sign. Duskwood must not have that much crime. Well, not until this, I suppose.

“Thank you.” I tell him as I reach over to undo my seatbelt and climb out of the car. “This is a nice ride, by the way.”

He raises a hand in some mock-salute. “Need me to pick you up?”

“Nah.” I shake my head. “Think I’ll explore the town for a little bit.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs and then he’s off.

I square my shoulders and take a deep breath before opening the door to the police station. It wasn’t like Alan asked me to come down here. He hadn’t. Even during the investigation into Richy’s death and Hannah’s kidnapping, when he questioned us, he never asked me to come to Duskwood. We’d done way too many video calls and phone calls and at one point, I had asked if he thought it would be easier for me to come to Duskwood, to which he responded back, are you ready for that?

No, I hadn’t been. I’m not even so sure I was now. But knowing that Jake was alive, that here was the last place was, I had to try.

“Can I help you?” The woman at the front desk asks.

I clear my throat. “I was wondering if I could speak to Alan Bloomgate. I’m one of—I was involved in the Hannah Donfort case. My name is [MC].”

Her eyes widen. “Give me a moment.” She stands and heads to some back office—which looks to me more like a closet—and then returns with a clipped smile. “He’ll be right out.”

Apparently, she isn’t lying, because not two minutes later, Alan is stepping out from the same door and staring me down. I hold his gaze and hope it says that I’m not here to argue. I will tell him my truth, but only my truth, not Hannah’s, not Jake’s, not anybody else’s.

“I was wondering when I would see you.” He says.

I shrug one shoulder. “Isn’t a few months later better than never?”

“Let’s go into my office.” He says, and leads me around the desk and back into the closet space he had come out of. He sits behind the desk and motions for me to take a seat opposite him. “I’m just going to guess you’re not here to talk about Miss Donfort.”

“I want to see them.” I tell him. “His things. I want to see them for myself. And whatever you want from me in return, I’ll give to you.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, [MC].”

“He isn’t a game to me.” I snap back and then sit back and try to relax. “I appreciate that you called me. It’s—I helped you find Hannah. I would do it again. Even with knowing the things that we do now, I would do it all again. That’s how much that group means to me. That’s how much he means to me. I’m not asking you to break any rules or to lie for him or to—to let him hide in your basement for the next five years. I’m just asking you to show me what you found.”

He stares me down for a moment. Then, he sighs, says “wait here for a minute” and disappears to another room. When he comes back, it’s with an evidence bag in his hand filled with the objects I saw on his bodycam footage. My breath hitches in my throat.

“I can’t let you touch them.” He says as he lays them in front of me.

I stare into the eyes of the mask. “Did you tell anybody that he’s alive?”

“I don’t know that he’s alive,” is all the answer he gives, which is an answer to my question. I slide my gaze down to the black hoodie, to the dirtied sleeves and muddy hood, and think about the fact that Jake wore this. I’m so close to him.

And yet I’ve never been further away from him.

“Thank you.” I tell him. “For—for this. And for listening to me about Hannah. If you hadn’t, I—I don’t know what would have happened. How much longer he would have gone on for. If he would have ever stopped.”

Alan’s silent for a minute. Then, he clears his throat. “You know, it was strange to me. Both Hannah and yourself swore to me that neither of you knew the other.”

“I don’t.” I swear.

It was one of the (albeit many) things that didn’t make sense to me. How Hannah got a hold of my number. How she sent it to Thomas. She’d told Alan she hadn’t really remembered texting him my number at all.

“I believe you.” He reassures. “I just think it’s strange. One mistake, if you can call it that, and you throw yourself into a missing persons case to help a stranger.”

“They’re not strangers.” Even though Hannah is kind of still a stranger.

“But they were.” Alan reasons. “You had no reason to say yes to helping Thomas. I doubt anybody would have held it against you if you turned the other way. But you decided to follow this until the end. To make sure they found Hannah. And you care about them. Maybe that’s why I find that I’m more lenient with you than maybe I should be. Why you’re sitting across from me right now calling the shots. Why I’m not asking you about the hacker.”

“I wouldn’t tell you if you did.” I look him in the eye so he knows I’m telling the truth.

He returns my gaze. “Maybe that’s the other reason.”

“Hm.” I acknowledge before I turn my gaze away—from him, from the objects that I know belong to Jake and it takes everything in me not to snatch them up and run. “Well. Thank you for allowing me to steal some of your time. For letting me—” I cut myself off before I say something that makes me break down in a fit of tears in front of him. “—just thank you.”

Leaving the station is easier than coming in. I’m still not any closer to knowing where Jake is than I was when I arrived here, but there’s a comfort in knowing he walked these streets. I wonder what he would think if he knew I was here. He hadn’t wanted me to come to Duskwood when everything was happening…but now that it was over, would he be happy that I was here? That I had come to Duskwood to piece together where he might have gone? Would he track my location and come to find me and…or was I grasping at straws?

It felt like I had just gotten him back. Not really, not entirely…but knowing that he was alive, that he was out there somewhere, maybe thinking of me and looking for ways to come back, to live the life we talked about when he asked me if I was sure…that was worth it. The thought that we could maybe someday have that—even if it was a twenty percent chance.

I check my phone again to see a new message from Ash. She’s asking me if I’ve heard from Charlie in the last few hours. Apparently, he’s AWOL, and I want to help, really, but…it doesn’t really feel like that’s where I am at the moment. Not just physically—obviously—but mentally. We got lucky with Hannah. And that was really only because we had Jake. Adam didn’t have a Jake. Or…maybe he did and I just hadn’t met him yet. But I already had a Jake and I didn’t want another one.

Maybe—if I found him, I could convince him to help. That was a big maybe. Not because I thought Jake would say no. He would say yes to anything I asked of him. The maybe was whether or not I could find him. More likely, the maybe was whether or not he would find me.

Three months ago, I would have been able to come to Duskwood and have no shortage of things I wanted to do and people I wanted to see. Now, as I stand outside Duskwood’s police station, I feel nothing but loneliness. Nobody knows I’m here. I could pass Thomas on the street and he wouldn’t even know it. I could run into Jessy at the library and she would walk by me without even a second thought. Why would they? I hadn’t told them I was here.

So, with nothing left to do, I walked. Toward the town center. Toward the library that Jessy showed me on our walk through Duskwood. Toward the Rainbow Café where I knew that Cleo and Hannah had spent a lot of their time. Toward the Black Swan. Toward—

Ah, what the hell.

I had nothing better to do and The Aurora seemed like a great place to drown my sorrows. To think about my next steps. To figure out—now that I was in Duskwood—what I planned to do. The thing about Jake being so secretive (and on the run) was that I couldn’t retrace his steps. I wasn’t able to ask if anyone had seen him. One, because he would make sure nobody had. And two, because three months was a long time to forget somebody’s face if you didn’t know who you were looking for.

I pull open the door to the bar and step inside. Immediately, I’m hit with the stench of whiskey and a handful of chatter. Duskwood’s a small town. And The Aurora definitely proves it. The bartenders move melodically around each other, serving patrons on the other side of the bar. If you walk down further, there’s a handful of tables.

And dead in the center is a table with my friends. Or, some of them. Dan and Cleo and Lilly. Could I still call them my friends? Ex-friends, maybe? Acquaintances? I didn’t know what they were. Or how to address them. It wasn’t like we had gotten into a fight. We didn’t stop talking for any reason other than that we did. We stopped talking.

I make a beeline for the bar to avoid a confrontation and plant myself on one of the stools. One of the bartenders—a girl cute with bleach blonde hair and brown Bambi eyes—asks what I want and I channel my inner Dan to order a whiskey—neat.

Looking over my shoulder, I focus on the table of them. On Lilly, who’s smiling at something Cleo said. On Dan, who’s the only one of them who actually knows I’m here. But even he’s focused on the conversation they’re having. It’s strange—to see Dan a part of something I’m not sure he would have been before. It’s nice.

“[MC]?”

I turn my head away from the table of my friends and focus my attention across the bar on someone I should’ve expected to see. “Phil.”

“I thought I recognized your voice from when we talked.” He smiles. “I wasn’t sure, but I saw you staring longingly at them—” He nods towards Dan and Cleo and Lilly. “—and I knew. What brings you around here? I expected you to show up maybe a few months ago, but by now, I thought you’d moved on without us.”

I was tired of the words move on. Like I’d had a choice. Like the people from this town might open their arms and welcome me back into their lives. So I’d been part of the group who’d saved Hannah Donfort. So had a lot of people. It didn’t make me special and everyone here knew it.

I offer him a smile in return. “I’m looking for somebody.”

“Anybody I know?” He asks.

I shake my head. “Nah. At least nobody you would recognize.” I pause. “How’s Jessy?”

“She’s—Jessy.” He answers, like that is an answer. “I don’t know if she’ll ever really be okay with the way things happened with Richy. I wouldn’t expect her to. Obviously. But I don’t know. I think I just thought she would have gone back to her normal life by now. And then I remember that most of her life revolved around him. He was her best friend. She worked for him. And I’m trying to be patient about that. But—” He shakes his head. “Maybe you should talk to her.”

“She doesn’t know I’m in town.”

“Okay.” He hums. “So, you’re not in town for my sister. And you’re not in town for your group of friends because they’re over there and you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. There’s always Hannah, but I don’t think you knew her that well. Or at all. Would I be right to assume this is about a certain hacker who helped to find Hannah?”

“He didn’t help find Hannah.” I defend. “He was the entire reason we found Hannah. I would have never been able to do it on my own. Even with the others’ help. He’s the only reason we found out about—” I pause before I say something I maybe shouldn’t. “It doesn’t matter. He’s the only reason we found her. Everything I did was just dumb luck.”

“That wasn’t what the news said.” A voice cuts in and I turn my attention from Phil to focus on the stranger that slides into the seat beside me. Not too close—a couple inches away. I don’t recognize him. I don’t know him. But I don’t know every person in Duskwood. Maybe a total of like nine or ten. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But I heard you had a lot to do with finding Hannah Donfort. The news said you were some kind of hero.”

I offer him a tight smile. “That’s nice of them. But…if they knew my—friend—knew what he did to find her, I don’t think I would be as much of a hero as everybody says.”

“That’s noble.” He says, eyes meeting mine, and it strikes me at once how handsome he is. He has dark hair. Bright green eyes. Focus, [MC]. I scold. You have a…a someone.

My phone buzzes.

ERIC SENT A PHOTO.

ERIC: What do you make of this?

I sigh and click on the photo. It’s of—some object. Much like the one that was addressed to me on the envelope in Adam’s glove compartment. The image is a bit different—but I don’t know enough about what it means to have an answer as to why.

ME: Was this one addressed to me?

ERIC: Nope. Ash.

“Are you okay?” Phil asks.

I clear my throat. “I’m a popular person—apparently.” A thought strikes. “Have you ever heard of a place called Redlog Pines?”

Phil frowns. “No.”

I turn to look at the stranger. “You?”

“Redlog Pines is a small town about two hundred miles north of Duskwood.” He answers. “Known for their wooded forests, much like Duskwood.”

“Why are you looking into a place with forests as creepy as ours?” Phil asks, incredulously. “Didn’t you get enough of that with Hannah’s case?”

“Yeah.” I sigh. “You would think.”

“Hey, [MC]!”

I wince at the sound of Dan’s voice. Shooting Phil a look that screams please help me to which he shakes his head amusedly, I turn and plaster on a fake smile as I take in the shocked looks on Cleo and Lilly’s faces. I should have known better than to come to The Aurora and talk to Phil when the three of them were having a conversation across the room. I should have known they would sooner or later see me. I just hoped it was later.

“Hey.” I hop off my stool and make my way across the bar to them. “It’s, uh, fancy seeing the three of you here.”

“What are you doing here?” Cleo asks.

“I haven’t really figured that out.” My eyes meet Lilly’s. “It sounds crazy to say it out loud. But I was hoping that—I’m not sure if Lilly told you—”

“That Jake’s alive.” Cleo nods. “None of us ever really thought he wasn’t.”

I don’t think she means it as a dig—but it still feels like one. Like she’s saying you gave up on him you gave up on him you gave up on him even though she’s not and she didn’t really know him and the only person I can talk to at this table who even might understand is Lilly and even—Jake didn’t confide in her the way he did me.

“Right.” I acknowledge. “So I thought that maybe if I came here, I could trace his steps from when he was here and—I haven’t really thought that far ahead. It’s not like I thought he left me any clues in the forest or anything like that. I don’t think he expected me to be here. He hadn’t wanted me to be the last time we talked. But that was before everything happened.”

Lilly’s eyes track behind me. “Does Jake still have Nymos on your phone?”

“Uh.” I furrow my brows. “I think so. I hadn’t heard from him in a while, but I went back and read through our messages after I talked to Alan and…my phone glitched, like it used to when Jake had hacked it. And then this message appeared on my screen.”

“And by chance, can Nymos track your location?”

“What—” I shake my head. “Maybe. I don’t think I ever really asked him. It didn’t seem necessary at the time.”

“Uh huh.” She focuses on me once more. “Let’s say, for one minute, that Jake has access to Nymos who has access to your location.”

Cleo must catch onto something I’m not sure of. “Jake didn’t want you here.”

“Uh, thank you?”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” She waves me off. “He didn’t want you in Duskwood. He had been adamant about that when we were talking about the mine. That’s why he went. If you showed up in Duskwood—”

“Nymos would have alerted him.” Dan finishes.

“Okay…” I’m not entirely sure I’m on the same page as them. “So—you think that Jake found out when I came to Duskwood.”

“Correct.” Lilly beams like she just solved life’s greatest mystery.

“And you think he would—come find me?”

She smiles sympathetically at me—like I’m the world’s biggest idiot for not realizing what she has been trying to say sooner. “I think he already has.”

“You think Jake’s in Duskwood.” I deadpan.

“[MC].” Cleo grabs my shoulders and turns me around. “We think he’s in this bar.”

Stranger, as I had nicknamed him—AKA the guy sitting beside me at the bar, with Phil and Redlog Pines (which he probably only knew about because of me) and the whole Hannah being kidnapped and not taking any of the credit thing—was looking back at me. So was Phil. Like they thought I was the crazy one. Like it would’ve been so hard for him to look and me and say it’s me or anything that might have clued me into the fact that—

“Jake?” I whisper, because I’ve lost quite a bit of sleep over the past couple of months and I’m not one hundred percent sure what—or who—I’m seeing is real. “Are you here?”

He tilts his head and smiles at me. Actually smiles. A bit shyly, like it’s something he’s not used to doing, but maybe like it’s something he could get used to. And I think about how terrible I probably look right now because I’m not wearing makeup and my hair is tousled from constantly pulling at it and my clothes are wrinkled from the plane and the police station and I look like a mess. But our relationship has never been about looks. Clearly. I didn’t even know the person I’d been talking to until Lilly and Cleo and even Dan pointed out the obvious.

“If I—” I close my eyes and open them again. Nope. Still there. “I need you to still be there by the time I reach you because it’s been a—” I sniffle. “—it’s been a rough few months and I don’t think I could handle you disappearing again.”

He stands from the stool he was sitting on and shuffles his feet. Like he’s not quite sure where he’s supposed to stand. If he thinks about moving, I’ll tackle him onto the floor of The Aurora and then apologize to Phil later. It feels like everything I wanted is right here in front of me. And I’m scared to death that it’s not real.

“What’s one thing you would take with you if you were stranded on an island?”

His smile stretches. “My computer.”

And that—that’s what breaks me. I think I might start blubbering like an idiot but I don’t remember the time it takes for me to cross the measly twenty feet between us. All I remember is grabbing his black hoodie—because of course—and dragging him to me. I don’t kiss him, despite how much I want to, because I don’t want our first kiss to be tainted with my snot and tears. Instead, I bury my face in his collarbone and wrap my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.

Because I can. Because he isn’t dead.

“Y—You’re here.” I pull back and cup his face with my hands. “How are you here?”

“You came to Duskwood.” He responds, and then—hesitantly—he presses his lips to my forehead in a kiss. “Alan called you.”

“He found your things in the forest.” I whisper back. “He said they’d been there a while. The police hadn’t searched the forest because they assume you died in the mine.”

“They aren’t looking for me here.” He confirms. “I didn’t expect it to take so long for them to find my belongings, but I anticipated that you would find out. At the time, it wasn’t safe for me to reach out and contact you. They kept on my trail for a while before they assumed I died in the mine with Richy.”

“Why didn’t you contact me then?” I ask. “Is it because of what I last messaged you? I didn’t mean it—I swear, I thought you were dead. If I had known you were alive, I would have waited, however long it took. I wasn’t trying to give up on you.”

“Hey.” He places both hands on either side of my face. “I know. I know that, [MC]. That was never why I didn’t reach out to you. I know you said you wanted this life with me. But I didn’t want that for you. But I was selfish. I couldn’t let you go. So I was trying to find a way to make both of those things true. But I was always coming back to you.”

“And did you?”

“Come back to you?” He asks.

I sniffle. “Find a way to make both of those things true.”

“Not entirely.” He admits. “Nymos alerted me you had boarded a plane headed in the direction of Duskwood and I—” He shook his head. “I knew I would find you here.”

“You could have found me sooner.”

He lets go of my face and he feels like he takes my skin with him. “It wasn’t that easy.”

“It could have been.” I demand.

I’m angry again. Now that I know he’s alive and okay and that he could have found me, I’m angry that he didn’t. I told him I would choose that life with him. Over and over and over. He didn’t need to make the decision for me. He didn’t need to try and protect me. And yes, maybe the fact that he did makes my heart flutter a tiny little bit, but that’s besides the point.

“I told you before you left me.” I tell him and I’m aware it sounds like we’ve been in a relationship for five years and I’m aware that everybody in here is watching and listening in on our conversation and they probably all know we’re who we are, two people involved in helping to find the kidnapped Hannah Donfort, and maybe that’s all we’ll ever be in this town. But I would rather be the girl who found Hannah Donfort in Duskwood with him than be me anywhere else. “You told me you would let me go with you.”

“That was before I told you I loved you.”

My heart skips a beat. It screams I love you I love you I love you back, but I say— “What does that have to do with anything?”

He looks somewhat amused. Like he knows I would never hold it against him. It’s clear to both of us that I wouldn’t because even though I’m glaring up at him with my furrowed eyebrows and my lips pouted, I’m still pressed tightly against him. His hands—even though they’ve moved from my face—are now resting on my hips. Pulling my tighter to him. There’s no space in between us. If it was up to me, I’m pretty sure there never would be again.

“[MC].” He says, and oh god I wish he would say my name every day for the rest of his life. “Have I—in the short time we have known each other—ever struck you as the type of person who says I love you? But with you…” His words are a whisper against my lips. “It’s easy to fall back into old emotions with you.”

“I want to be angry with you.” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.” I agree. “But I might be if you don’t kiss me.”

He brought one finger underneath my chin and tilted it up until our lips were separated by a fraction of an inch. My eyelids fluttered. I didn’t care that everyone in here was about to see just how much Jake meant to be. I didn’t care because I had waited too long for this. And then—just as I’m leaning toward him to press our lips together, he whispers— “[MC]?”

“Hm.” I acknowledge.

“Who’s Eric?”

My eyelids crack open and I shove at his chest. “That’s what you’re worried about right now? Here I am, in front of you, covered in snot and tears and who-knows-what-else because you’re here right now, and you’re worried about some guy I don’t even know?”

“Who’s Eric?” He repeats.

“Ugh.” I run my hands through my hair and take a step back. “I don’t know. He’s the other side of Thomas or whatever you want to call him. If we lived in a different town.” I glare back at him and try not to admit that I think his jealous side is a little cute. “He messaged me. Thought I picked up his friend from some parking lot and I didn’t, but his friend sent him my number, and it was Hannah all over again. I’m trying to help them.”

“This Adam has been sending you a lot of videos.”

“You know I hate when you hack my phone.” I complain, even though I really don’t. Even though I had prayed for him to help me with this case. “I really don’t know Adam. Like—even less than I know Eric.

“But you know Eric.”

“For like a week.” I reassure. “He added me to this group chat with him and like three other friends of his. They’re desperate to find Adam who has apparently dropped off the face of the earth and I don’t know what to do. I had you with Hannah’s case. And you knew her. And they—” I look over my shoulder at Cleo and Dan and Lilly, who are pretending like they’re not listening in even though I know and Jake knows they are. “—they knew her. And obviously Adam’s friends must know him but I don’t and you don’t and there is no Jake in Redlog Pines.”

“I don’t trust him.” He shakes his head. “Any of them.”

I laugh. “Jake, you didn’t trust half the people in this bar when we first started talking.” I look over at Phil and then Dan. “It doesn’t mean they committed a crime. If I had backed off when you asked me to help you find Hannah, we may never have.”

“I thought that was all thanks to me.” He sounds smug, like that little smiley face he loved to annoy me with (AKA make me fall in love with him). “Did he flirt with you?”

“No.” I deadpan. “I think he was focused on his missing friend.”

“I was focused on my missing sister.” He shoots back.

I close my mouth. Alright. He has a point. But I wasn’t flirting with Eric. He was focused on finding Adam and I was focused on mourning���and then finding—Jake. Maybe it felt like Eric and I were two sides of the same coin. Maybe that’s why I agreed to help him. Because I didn’t want to happen to him what I thought had happened to Jake—to me.

“You’re being ridiculous.” I say instead. “How do you think I could ever entertain the idea of being with somebody else when for the past three months—more than that if you count the time we have actually had together—I’ve been focused on you? On discussing Hannah with you and then talking to you about anything and everything and then worrying about you and then hating you a little for convincing me you should me the one to go into the mine and then mourning you when it was hard to even think about you and then finding you?”

His eyes are wide. I think I’ve rendered him speechless. Which—serves him right. I know he’s not somebody who serves their feelings up on a silver platter. I know that. Obviously, I knew that from the first time I spoke to him. Back when he was nothing more than ??? and I was almost convinced that Dan was right and he was the Man Without A Face—a thought that I now hate with everything in me. But I need him to trust me. Jealousy streak and FBI and the missing persons cases aside, he needs to trust me.

“Trust me.” I cup the sides of his face again. “He’s nothing like you.”

He swallows. “Some people might consider that to be a perk.”

“I don’t.” I say.

And then I’m kissing him and it feels like coming home.

[fruitmins]

Purple Car | jungkook

➭ summary: in which jungkook is a successful solo idol and your his long time girlfriend that he hasn’t seen in almost two months. again. it’s starting to feel like your more like distant friends more than lovers so when you unexpectedly disappear, jungkook goes the distance to try to find you.

➭genre: solo idol jk x reader, drabble

➭warnings: none really. a little angsty and depressing. there’s a couple bad words

➭note: first post🥳 | heard a snippet of the acoustic version of ‘car outside’ and this was the outcome sooo feedback would be appreciated.

Jungkook’s eyes begin to strain as he stared at the blue screen with wide and glossy eyes. He didn’t care how badly he was damaging his eyes. It didn’t even cross his mind for a second. He could barely process the information that was on the screen. But still, he stared at it in disbelief. How could he care about himself when the most important person he cared about was missing?

‘nearest train station’

‘train tickets to Daegu’

According to your laptop that was the last thing you had googled. The last time you had used it being almost an hour ago.

His heavy heart sank. Would the train be gone by now?

No. He didn’t want to think of the possibility that you actually left him. You two had always talked about going to Daegu together. Going out to hotels and spending the days happily touring together.

Jungkook’s throat ran dry as he thought about the word touring. When was the last time he actually spent quality time with you? He had just came back from a month tour, promoting his new solo album. He had spent weeks prior getting ready for it and his schedule became full in an instant.

He felt bad and had always planned on making up for lost time as soon as he was done. He knew that after his company would leave him alone for once and he was set on making you his top priority after.

He always made sure to call you at least once a day when on tour, or send little gifts and things to the house in an attempt to cheer you up.

Jungkook glanced around the room, some of his latest gifts not even out of the box. At first, he was constant with the calls and gifts. They would be sweet and meaningful. But as the tour continued the more tired he got. His calls were short and late at night and his gifts became small and less frequent.

His stomach swelled with guilt at the thought. How could he do this to you? Abandon you, make promises, and give you false hope. He remembered the words he said to you to cheer you up.

‘It’ll be over soon before you know it.’

‘When I get back we’ll have the best nights of our lives.’

‘I promise to call you more babe.’

‘I promise I’m fine babe, everything will go back to normal when I’m done.’

‘Stop fucking freaking out so much.’

Most of the time, his mind was clouded by exhaustion and pressure he forgot about the things he said. It felt like all the nights before he slept was like a drunken blur. All he could remember was being on stage and wanting to do good for his fans.

Well now he remembered. All the dry talks between you two. All of the half hearted things he said while slurring, barely awake. Sometimes almost yelling at you whenever you spoke to loud or to much. It was clear as time went he became more moody and distant.

He felt sick.

On the king sized bed, next to the earlier gifts laid your phone. No wonder you hadn’t been answering your phone. Did you really go the extra mile to leave everything at home?

No, he thought again. This must mean your in the house. Maybe the shower, or you went for a walk. Why would you leave your phone?

He tapped on the screen as it lit up. His handful of text showed on the screen. Your phone was almost dead and seemed completely untouched.

12:02AM

Even though he knew you never took showers this late, he went to the master bathroom to take a peek. Nothing. There was limited places you could be hiding, and he had already checked the place once he realized you weren’t home when he first arrived. You weren’t ANYWHERE. Not even in the guest bedroom.

Now he was really starting to panic as realization set in. He had screwed up. He had played with your emotions. He had left you one to many times. Now you were leaving him.

Now he was feeling everything that you had been for the past month and a half, and every other time a big event happened. He felt abandoned, sad, ditched and empty. How the fuck did he not realize what he was doing? How did he not realize how you were feeling? Why didn’t you talk to him? Did you? Not like he could really remember if you had.

‘nearest train station’

He clicked on your past search to see the exact responds. Shit. It wasn’t that far from the house. Only fifteen minutes to be exact. And you had been ghosting him for an hour.

He sprung into action at the realization. He would just had to hope that the train didn’t leave yet. To just hope that you went to early or that you had changed your mind.

He jumps into his car. Not caring that he wasn’t even supposed to be out this late, especially not in his recognizable purple car. Something even his fans knew was his prized possession since he and your favorite color was purple. In his purple car he felt like any other normal person. Especially when you were in the car with him. Now if just felt empty.

He practically sped to the train station (he actually did go over the speed limit a little), immediately parking his car in a random lot before booking it inside the large building.

Inside, he is immediately hit by a sense of bustling activity and the sound of people rushing to catch their trains as his eyes try to scan to look for you. Even though it’s early in the morning, there’s still a bunch of people.

Even when it’s a little dark inside the station since the sun isn’t up yet, he can spot a variety of posters and signs, displaying information about train schedules, destinations, and services available at the station.

He runs to the board, looking for the word Daegu and the color from his face drains when he finds it. The last train to Daegu had left at 11pm. Almost an hour ago. And what’s even worse is that he couldn’t even get a ticket till six.

He almost growled at the board out of anger. What he wasn’t going to do was sit around for five hours while you would be at a foreign place with no phone and nothing to defend yourself with. Especially since you were arriving at such a late time. He was not going to sit around when he had a perfectly good private jet.

Jungkook didn’t care who he woke up. He was the most successful man under his company and getting even more popular around the world. If he wanted a private jet ready at twelve o clock, he was going to get it.

Jungkook would be arriving to Daegu a big whopping thirty minutes before you, and it would take him a decent amount of time to get to the train station you would be arriving it. In short, Jungkook was seriously cutting it short.

If he was even a second to late, you’d disappear into the sea of people and his chances of finding you would decrease drastically by the minute.

Despite being exhausted and sleep deprived, Jungkook couldn’t sleep on the jet. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. All he could do is refrain himself from tearing out his own hair by repeating calling your number, listening to your voice mail for comfort since he knew you wouldn’t answer.

Once his phone had died, all he had was his thoughts. The depressing feeling of sorrow and loss took over him as he cried his eyes out. He missed you and he hated that he drew you away. He hate that he hurt you. He couldn’t imagine a life without you. He wanted to marry you for God’s sake. He felt like his chest was crashing the more he was away from you.

Finally, after he arrived he had a car waiting for him to take him to the train station. He had requested the same purple car he had left back at home, it didn’t feel right picking you up in an all black shaded windowed limo. Whenever you both went somewhere you took that car. You two had spent camping trips and dinner dates in that car. Sure it was newer and wasn’t his car but it was close enough.

He drove himself to the train station and ran inside the building as fast as he could. His face was hidden with a hat and mask as he tried his best to blend in with the people while still desperately trying to reach the platforms.

When he did, he saw one train already letting off a load of people. Jungkook immediately grew terrified. Did you already get off? Did he already lose you? A million thoughts ran through his head as his eyes started to water again.

He didn’t stop walking till he was at the front of the platform, watching as the people who got off with smiles reunited with family members or friends.

Jungkook watched the train empty, looking through the windows in hopes of getting a glimpse of you still inside. But it was mostly empty. You must of been one of the first people to get off. You must of been in a rush to get away from him. To start over. To leave him like he had done you.

Jungkook’s heavy head dropped, looking straight at the ground with closed eyes as tears started to fall. Grieving over the loss of his soulmate. And he could only blame himself.

He wished he could turn back time and do things differently, but he knew that was impossible. All he could do now was try to pick up the pieces of his shattered life and move forward, even though he had no idea how to do that without his wife by his side. But he would always missing you piece of his life..

“Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s body immediately froze at his name. The voice was behind him and spoke with a shaky voice but he was positive it sounded just like you. Was his mind fucking with him? Did he actually hear your voice? For the first time in a month? Were you still here? Did he still have a chance?

He swallowed a lump in his throat as he turned around, a little cautious. His breathing stopped when he met your red eyes. It was you. Only a couple steps away from him. You looked different. More skinny, you had on older clothes. Not the ones he bought you. And he could tell by your tear stained cheek and puffy eyes that you had been crying for a while. But you still looked beautiful. He missed your eyes, your touch, your smell..

Without giving it a second thought, he jumped towards you. His arms immediately wrapped around you as he gave you a tight hug and held you. His tears were spilling more violently as he sobbed into you. Relief rushed through him as he held you. You didn’t push him away, but you didn’t exactly hug him either. But he didn’t care. As long as he got to hug you. He was scared of letting you go. He didn’t want you to leave, and he didn’t want to leave either.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He managed to choke out and soon enough you began to cry with him, becoming emotional in his arms. “I’m so fucking sorry.” He repeated, the first genuine words he said to you in a while. Your familiar soothing smell with the warmth of your small figure stopped him from having a full out panic attack.

“Jungkook I—“ you started to speak but he quickly shook his head, pulling away to analyze your face. He looked into your eyes with such relief and care but sadness still filled his expression. He was still scared you wouldn’t forgive him. That he had still lost you.

“I’m terrible Y/N. I didn’t realize just how much I let my job take over my life. Our life. I missed you Y/N I really did. I love you. I love you more than myself. I don’t wanna leave you anymore.” He said quickly pulling you back into a tight embrace, and this time he almost melted when your arms wrapped around him. He wanted to say so much more but he couldn’t form the words. It was paining him just seeing you cry.

“Please, give me a second chance to fix things. I’m not going anywhere without you Y/N.” He said, his desperate words spoken in a firm voice. He wanted to let you know just how serious he was about his words.

“Don’t promise anything..” you mumbled. The first proper-ish sentence you’ve said the whole time. He missed your voice, it wasn’t the same over the phone but your words stung. Did you not trust him? Did you think he would abandon you? Cause if so he’d get on his knees and propose to you right there.

“I just don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to leave you.” He sobbed into your shoulder honestly. Jungkook had always been a little shy with crying, even in front of you. But he was willing to expose himself to you. To let you know how he really felt.

“I-I won’t. Leave..” You choked out in a low voice and Jungkook was immediately over the moon. All his worries and fears washed away at your words. “I love you.” You spoke, this time in a stronger but gentle voice as his grip loosened a little around you.

He responded by pulling down his mask and kissing you with starving lips. His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled your body against his. You kissed him back, melting in his touch as the world around you disappeared. You both had missed each others touch and you practically cried of happiness at the familiar warmth of his lips on yours.

When you pulled away to catch your breath, Jungkook leaned his forehead so it was touching yours. He closed his eyes and took everything in as he continued to hold your waist. Never would he be leaving you again. Never.

— A YEAR LATER —

“You ready for the tour baby?” Jungkook asked you in a gentle and soothing voice when he slithered behind you, wrapping his arms around you and putting his head on your shoulder. He gave you a kiss on your neck as he watched you pack your large suitcase.

“Absolutely. I can’t wait to visit all the different places.” You said with a wide smile as you leaned into his touch. When Jungkook cleared his voice you giggled. “And watch you preform of course.” A satisfied smirk showed on his lips at your response.

“Well I’m glad your happy.” He replied with a warm smile, his voice filled with joy and happiness.

Because what you didn’t know was that on the last day of the tour in Daegu, Jungkook was going to propose to you after singing Still With You.

[notmuchtofind]

public eye pt2 | d.s

tw: low appetite, possible miscarriage, cheating

pt 1 here

a/n: it’s finally out lol!! tysm for the interaction on the past fic🥹 i hope you enjoy! lmk your thoughts x

"drew if it's not what you want and it's what I eventually want, are we even right for each other? What are we doing? You don't care for me like you usto, you're not the same. you're a dick" you say trying not to shout

"I don't know what I want right now?" Drew states, not looking you in the eyes.

How's he being so calm? Why is he doing this? This is not like drew.

"fuck you." You stand up out of the chair and walk right out of the cafe doors, tears start streaming down your face and you try to hide your face with the palm of your hand...

*snap* followed by a flicker

*snap* *snap*

fuck.

you look around...

"Is that paparazzi?" you mumble to yourself 

you walk faster to your car, quickly opening the door and throwing your bag on the backseat, you fumble to turn the engine on and see slight flickers through the rearview mirror...this is the last thing you need right now.

_________________________

After setting your keys aside on the kitchen table and kicking your shoes off, you immediately undressed out of the clothes you had picked out to see Drew in and chucked on your dressing. spending the rest of that day on the couch. Tears would brim in your eyes, often spilling over through the course of the day as you'd replay what had been said by drew in your mind. And there was no text from him. no apology, no checking up on you, no nothing...maybe this was really over? It seemed to all happen so quickly. How could you go from, what people knew as the 'IT' couple, to being, well...nothing.

Passed out on the couch, you are awoken by the pinging of notifications coming from your phone. In a dazed state your initial thought is that Drews trying to get hold of you. Your hand fumbles around the couch as you follow the sound trying to relocate the phone. You pick it up, eyes half wide, and check the time. 4:07am.

"fuck" you mumble too yourself, you've been on this couch for nearly 12 hours...

As your eyes wander down from the timestamp at the top of your phone screen, you lock your gaze onto the first notification.

Twitter : @drewobxlover03 Tagged you in a post.

'okay, pretty normal?' you think to yourself 

but as your sleepy eyes drift down some more...

6,789 more.

You quickly adjust your position on the couch, now sitting up as your back leans against the arm of it... your gaze widens.

Too caught up in your own trail of thoughts and distress when you entered your home earlier, The flickers from the paparazzi camera didn't even cross your mind. You were used to it to say the least, but you'd forgotten the difference in what they may have captured earlier on...

Your finger glides over the notifications and swipes to open.

You're met with a picture grid.

A "slideshow" full of your swollen teary face. Drews hands flailing around at you through the cafe windows. your figure towering over drew as you got up out of your seat. You abruptly dash out of the cafe doors...

The number on your twitter activity heading just keeps rising... and rising. 

A pit in your stomach starts to grow, but You can't help but click on more, its a bad idea... 

Met by more photos of you from different angles, red streaks from tears that have trailed down your cheeks. Feelings of embarrassment overcome your being.

until the embarrassment turns into dismay.

Your palm meets your mouth, shocked by the images on your phone screen, you're breathed.

They're in a car...pictures of him, and her... touching her face?...They're laughing? they’re way too close for your liking.

your heart begins swelling with hurt, you feel a physical pain ache within your chest, thoughts that it may almost rupture.

You scan the comments, your thumb appears to be scrolling too fast for your eyes to catch up. 

@user0844628495: OMFG HE DIDN'T TT!!???

@Chaseforeverxoxo: I never liked y/n anyways lol.

@obxstufffff: Who is she??? 

@starkeyandy/l/n20: no no no no!!! please, I don't believe in true love fr :((((((

@user984763097: I hate men.

You should've known from the moment Drew was being distant after he started shooting for the new film that there was something off, that he'd possibly found another girl. it just never seemed to cross your mind. Not your drew? Not after nearly 4 years and especially not after you guys were so public with your relationship. 

Maybe it lingered in your subconscious...but your heart was too heavy to allow yourself to slip that possibility to the front of your mind. You feel like a fool.

The only person who knew you and drew just as equally was Madelyne. After phoning her up and apologising for how late it was, you explained the situation. she offered to come round and comfort you, and you allowed her to do just that, as you sobbed into her arms she was wiping your tears. She didn't say much, she just held you...the truth is there's not much she could say...at least not to you anyways. But she promised the next time she and Drew would come into contact it would not end well, and she was adamant that it would be the last time she would willingly be in the same room as him. Even though you met Madelyn through drew, you and her hit it off so quickly, it's like you found your platonic soulmate as well as your romantic one...or so you had thought.

~~~~~~~

Madelyn was passed out on the opposite side of the couch when you decided to get up and get some water, your appetite was certainly not present but you figured you should hydrate yourself, your tears had drained your body from water. You glance over to the kitchen as you make your way there. The time reads 8am on the digital clock within the microwave.

As you drag your feet around the kitchen, collecting a glass to fill with water, your ears prick up to the sound of a knock at your door. Confused, you slowly redirect your journey and turn to the front door. You peak through the peephole, to find the boy you've been in hysterics over for the past, well...however many hours.

He knocks again, this time a little louder.

Your mind starts racing, your heart begins to pound and you get that ever so familiar feeling of anxiety that rushes over you.

You shake your head in distress and you battle with your thoughts on what to do next...

"y/n...please, open the door... I know you're not asleep"

He's right, he knows you well enough to know your mind wouldn't allow you to sleep for more than a couple hours at a time when you're feeling upset.

You glance over to the couch where Madelyn still lays, her breaths slow and fall steadily.

You step a little closer to the door frame and lean your weight onto one side. "um, Drew...I-I really don't feel like speaking right now"

"please y/n, just open the door, let me explain myself... I- i've been shit I know and ...i'm sorry, can you just hear me out?" Drew utters through slight cracks in his voice.

Tears brim in your eyes as you listen through the door to the words that trail out of Drews mouth...you tilt your head back and gasp for air as you try and hold back your wave of emotions. You want to see him, you want to talk, but you feel like you're almost stuck, unable to think straight, you're not ready for the emotional baggage that a conversation like this would bring right now. You figure there's no real explanation on why Drew has treated you the way he has for the past couple of months, and no excuse for acting the way he had in the photos you'd seen, it all hurt you, and it was valid. 

Your brain is scattered trying to figure out the right way to go about all of this...but almost before your mind could tell you no, your hand reaches for the hinges to unlock the front door.

your eyes lock together, and you can see Drews been crying, they're bloodshot and his eyebags slightly swollen. You look down at your feet as you quietly step outside the front door and into the apartment block hallway. "i've got to come out here, Madelyn's asleep..." you whisper slightly. Drew nods sheepishly.

as you close the door and shuffle your feet in front of Drew, you look up to him and fold your arms. "so?...you wanted to talk to me what do you want you want to say?" you question

"I just wanted to say i'm sorry, that I never meant to hurt you, you were right, I have been a dick, i've been scared and stressed and i've made some stupid decision I-"

"did you sleep with her?" you interrupt, you couldn’t truly hear drew out until you got off what was on your mind, you just needed to know first.

"huh?" He questions, his eyebrows burrowing slightly 

"Did you sleep with her?" you utter through a passive tone

" I-what do you mean ?"

"Ive seen the fucking photos Joseph! did you. sleep. with her?" you exclaim, hands gesturing to emphasise your emotions.

"What? What photos y/n? I- I don't know what youre talking about?"

your heart skips a beat

The truth is, Drew hadn't looked on twitter, Drew hadn't seen the photos of you, or him, or her. He always kept his phone on do not disturb between the night and early morning. And when the realisation hits...you can't help but snap.

A small chuckle slips through your lips. "are you fucking kidding me drew?"` you spit " you really was going to come here, apologies and not be truthful about what happened last night, do you think im fucking stupid? look at your fucking phone!?" 

But before Drew can get out his phone to check what youre talking about, you get out your own, shoving the image of him and another girl into his face. "this?" you state through gritted teeth.

Drews expression changes, his brows drop. 

"anything to say? maybe the reason youve been such a dick is because youre fucking your co star huh?" 

but before you could ask him once more, you notice his attention isn’t on you, but is drawn towards the floor

As you look down towards your bare legs, you notice drops of blood beginning to fall from in between, first slowly…then all at once.

cramping begins in your lower abdomen, however, it doesn't feel familiar, it feels uneasy…you begin to panic, facing drew with your hand now clamped over your mouth… 

“what the fuck y/n, we- we have to get you to a hospital…”

a/n: pt3??????

@winterrrnight @loves0phelia @f4ll-for-you @leyla-1905 @dilvcv @abarleyexistentbeing @tringeorge @emmsyysstuff @missamericanablog @deadxrx @clearpoetryobservation-blog @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @emotionsmgcbabe @aliciacat20

[theloneotaku158]

As of Batman: The Brave and the Bold #12, local precious-gremlin-who-I-would-die-for, Maps Mizoguchi, is now officially(?) the sixth Robin. Or at the very least, she's now "in" on The Secret™.

If this isn’t a set up for her taking up the Robin mantle officially then I genuinely don’t know what is.

As one of the twelve Gotham Academy enjoyers in existence, I am having the extremely normal reaction of "FUCKING FINALLY! LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO--!"

In all honesty, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't seen this coming from miles away. Like, Maps has appeared in a number of seemingly random cameo roles recently, including Batgirls (2021), and even technically as Robin in the backup issues of Batman (2016) #119-121, and in a short story in Batman Black & White. And most of those got collected in a standalone titled "Maps of Mystery", which specifically gathered all her appearances as Robin (and the Gotham Academy Belle Reve story).

And then, of course, her recent time-travelling Future-Trunks-esque appearance in Birds of Prey (2023), as the tech-based Meridian, from a potential future timeline where she apparently makes it as a superhero using gadgets she apparently designed, proving that she's hero material.

That's not something you do for a character for no reason. That's the sort of thing you do when you want to keep a character in the conscience of your readers for whatever reason, because you have bigger plans for them.

Also interesting to consider that, in the "Mother's Day" story where this took place, Alfred is standing right there and not lying down six feet under wood, dirt and a stone slab, and that Bruce is in the old Batcave under the manor so he still has Money™. So we must assume this was some nebulous time in the past (after GA: Second Semester(?), but before City of Bane)... which I won't bother to analyse the exact timeframe of because DC doesn't care about the post-Flashpoint / New 52 / Rebirth / Prime Earth / idfk / Dawn of DC timeline, so neither should I.

But I think it's really funny that this presumably means Maps has known The Secret™ for a long time relative to present-day comics, but always acted like she didn't.

But if all her appearances are in chronological order, that means Bruce is only the fourth Bat whose identity she discovered.

Like, she discovered Cass' identity almost by accident on a trip to the zoo, Damian showed off his grapple gun and gave her an actual Batarang during the three hours he was enrolled in the school (as if she wouldn't immediately put two-and-two together even back then), and she even found out Terry fucking McGuinness would become Batman in a future via a time-travelling grandfather clock.

No I did not make that last part up. Read Gotham Academy istg.

Did Cass know that Maps had been acting as a Robin when she met her, both at the zoo in Batgirls and her future version in Birds of Prey?

Does Damian know the one (1) friend(?) he made in Gotham Academy is potentially in the running for his job?

Is Bruce himself aware that she knows as much about their identities as she currently does?

How is DC going to retcon this so it all makes sense in the barely-functioning canon of the modern DC universe?

I'm digressing. Where was I going with this?

Point is, she's destined to become a Robin, and I'm glad DC finally pulled their fingers out their asses and capitalised on that destiny.

Let's just hope it doesn't take another year for them to follow up on this plotline again.

Bonus: Jason Todd, after learning of Bruce taking yet another happy kid under his wing as yet another Robin, giving her some advice:

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 12

I've decided that since I have a fair amount of backlog on the three I've been doing WIP Wednesday for, that I'd post some of them to give me time to work on the rom-com AU more.

I recommend going back and re-reading part 11 at least before reading this one to be on the safe side.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

The Fallen boys need a break and Robin and Chrissy meet up with Nancy.

****

Things were going really well in the studio now that they had Bob Newby as their producer and their studio was closer to home so they could live their normal lives and still be in the studio recording.

It was the happiest the band had been in awhile. Which was why Steve should have seen it coming. The dark cloud on the horizon.

Shane was late.

That wasn’t to say that it was out of the ordinary or whatever, but it was now two hours late and Spence was pissed.

“When I get my hands on his scrawny neck,” he hissed. “I’m going to kill him.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “You’re just upset because it’s means you’ll be late for your date or whatever with Nadia. He’ll be here.”

“That’s not true and you know it, Asmodeus,” Spence bit out. “This is the third time this week and yeah, so what if I have a life outside of this, but that’s not why.”

Just then Shane stumbled in. He looked like absolute shit. His clothes were disheveled, his hair was a mess, and he wore dark sunglasses. Clutched to his chest was a large coffee.

“Fuck...” he mumbled as he shambled over to the sofa. He lowered himself gently onto the thing with a stream of curses. “Sorry I’m late, but my hookup last night turned off my alarm.”

He took a long sip of his coffee and rubbed his temple. He had finished most of the coffee when he realized that no one had said a word since he arrived.

The door opened and Bob and Robin entered the room looking more than a little cross.

Shane flashed them a smile. “Uh oh, it looks like I upset both mom and dad. So I was a little late. It happens.”

“But it shouldn’t be happening,” Spence said with a scowl. “This isn’t the first time. Hell, it’s not even the first time this week.”

Shane frowned, setting his coffee on the floor between his feet. He rubbed his temples as he struggled to think back. “That can’t be right, it’s only Monday, right?”

Everyone shared concerned glances.

“Astraeus,” Steve said slowly, “it’s Thursday.”

Bob crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You were late on Sunday, Monday and today, Astraeus.”

Shane stared up at them in open shock and disbelief. “There’s no way!” He pulled out his phone and looked at the date.

“Shit.”

“What’s been going on, man?” Simon asked, concerned for the first time. He hadn’t realized how often it had been and was giving Spence shit for wanting to be with his girlfriend.

Shane shook his head. “I have money for the first time in my life. I mean proper money. My parents always had enough to make sure we got into the things we wanted; sports, drama, music, you name it, but there wasn’t a lot of money to go around after, you know? I had to pay for my college education myself and I just wanted to live a little. Spread the money around, even if I couldn’t tell them what I did for a living, they don’t really care.”

“I can see that,” Robin said. “I think we all breathing easier, regardless of our backgrounds because the money we’re getting has pretty much set us up for life if it all went to shit tomorrow, which I really wouldn’t recommend, by the way.”

Shane let out a huff of breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “I really didn’t mean to go off like that, I’ll cut back to just the weekends. I promise.”

Robin and Bob shared a glance.

“That’s strike one, Astraeus,” Bob said, “I don’t take slackers lightly. You want me to continue to work for you guys, you’ve got to step it up.”

Shane nodded empathically. “Can we have a day off a week though? It doesn’t have to be on the weekend, but this seven days a week is really hard.”

Robin blinked at him a moment. “You guys have been coming every day?”

The band looked around at each and all gave a collective shrug.

She turned to Bob. “Is that your schedule?”

Bob’s jaw dropped and he shook his head. “I only do that if there’s a rush to get the album out, which I understood there wasn’t. I don’t how we got on working every day, but Astraeus is correct they need a day off.”

“What works best for everyone?”

The band worked out a better schedule that worked for everyone with it ending with Bob giving everyone the rest of the week off, giving them strict instructions to talk to him about those sort of things before it got to this point.

Robin clapped her hands once. “Right, now that we’ve got that settled, we’re still meeting up at Abbadon’s for dinner to discuss my meeting with Nancy. My meeting is at three and dinner is at six, so don’t be late.” She glared at Shane and he raised his hands in surrender.

“See you all then!”

****

Robin straightened her wig in her rearview mirror and added more lipstick. She wore special contacts that changed her bright blue eyes to a more common brown color. She was dressed in slim fitting white slacks with a bright pink silk blouse and a black leather aviator’s jacket. She hated wearing these clothes, they just weren’t her. At least she didn’t have to wear high heels to this thing. She would have broken an ankle for sure.

But she would sell her soul to the devil if it meant that Steve got to do what he loved. And it wasn’t as though she didn’t love her job either. But Eddie was right, she was on her last frayed nerve and that wouldn’t do her boys any good.

She slid out of her Maserati MC20 and walked up to the restaurant. The Corroded Coffin’s manager, Chrissy Cunningham was going to be there as a mediator.

Robin hadn’t told Steve this, but Chrissy knew who she was. Not the band, she didn’t know that, but she knew that Celeste Baptiste was Robin Buckley. It was just something Robin felt she needed to know before going in there with Nancy. That she personally had a stake in the game, even if it was just as Steve’s best friend.

Chrissy loved the idea of even their manager having an alter ego and it made Robin feel better about her choice to be someone else.

Robin and Chrissy kissed each other’s cheeks in greeting and Robin sat down.

“She’s not here yet?” she asked, looking at her matching watch.

Chrissy shook her head. “She’s running a little behind. One of her clients blew up the internet last night and she’s been having to play hard ball to keep it from destroying their career.”

Robin leaned in close. “Ooh, do you know who it was?”

“That’s for me to know,” Nancy said from above them, “and for you to never find out.”

Robin looked up at her and was struck on how good she looked. It was almost unfair how good she looked.

She was wearing a grey plaid blazer with the sleeves rolled up over a white button shirt and a black pencil skirt. She wore grey boots and matching sunglasses, glasses she took off with a shake of her dark curls.

Robin gulped. Nancy had been intimidating enough in high school, but now she could stare down a raging bull and come away unscathed.

“Hello, ladies,” Nancy said with a smile. “I’m sorry I was late, but I think I managed a god damn miracle and could eat an entire salad bar.”

Nancy sat down and put her phone in her purse.

“Oh are you vegan?” Chrissy asked as the waiter came up with a pitcher of water. Nancy waved him off and ordered a rosé.

“Just vegetarian,” she said with a shake of her head. “I love cheese too much. Plus, I knew a militant vegan and they scare me.”

Robin laughed. “Couldn’t be me, I went full vegan last year and haven’t looked back.”

Nancy and Chrissy both winced, but for different reasons, Nancy for her comment about militant vegans and Chrissy, well...

“I picked this place because it has the best rib eye steak on the planet,” she said with a grimace. “That’s not going to bother either of you if I order that, right?”

Nancy and Robin shared a glance and then shook their heads.

“My best friend loves steak,” Robin said, “It’s his choice to eat it, I just a have a problem with the ethical consumption of meat and other animal products.”

“Most of my clients eat meat,” Nancy agreed. “I’m not about to piss them off because I don’t like the taste.”

Chrissy relaxed and let out a long sigh. “Great!”

She picked up her menu to hide her embarrassment. A few minutes later, their waiter came back and they placed their orders.

Nancy had ordered a pasta with roasted sun dried tomatoes and mushrooms and Robin ordered a simple salad with a vinaigrette.

As they waited for their food, Nancy got down to business. “So as I understand it, the band The Fallen is looking for an agent to help with the legal and PR aspect of their brand, correct?”

Robin nodded, twisting her napkin nervously. Normally as Celeste, she was cooler under pressure but Nancy scared her. Not because of anything she could do to her specifically, but because what she could do to her boys.

Chrissy reached out and laid her hand over Robin’s fidgeting ones. Robin let out a shuddered breath.

“Normally bands like theirs have teams and teams of people doing all the work,” Robin said, “but with the secrecy surrounding their identities the more people that know the easier it is for a leak.”

Nancy nodded. “It’s certainly not the usual thing. But I’ve got a few clients that are strict about their identities and it wouldn’t be a problem, but as I told Chrissy, I would have know everything about them so that I can do my upmost to protect them.”

“Did you sign the NDA?” Robin asked, straightening her spine. This was something she was good at. Protecting her boys and she would do it with the fierceness of a mother bear and her cubs.

Nancy picked up her briefcase and opened it up. She took out a folder and handed it to Robin. Robin looked it over and then nodded.

She stuck it in her purse and pulled out a hard portfolio and slid it across to Nancy. Chrissy squeezed her hand as Nancy read through the documents. Their food arrived in the interim and she set it aside. She steepled her hands and planted her elbows on the table.

“How much of this do you know?” she asked Chrissy.

“Only what I needed to which is who Celeste is,” she replied, “and that both her and Abbadon have a history with you that could be trouble for a lot of people, not just the band.”

Nancy nodded and took a bite of her food before saying anything else. Chrissy and Robin exchanged glances but started eating as well. More for something to do in the intervening silence than because they were actually interested in food at that moment.

After a few moments Nancy blotted her lips with her napkin and set it next to her plate. “This is not what I was expecting when I heard that you had concerns about my professionalism and in all honesty, this is easier to understand then a manager thinking they don’t need the help of an agent when they really do.”

Chrissy and Robin shared a glance.

“Is that something that’s common?” Chrissy asked. Corroded Coffin had already had Nancy as their agent when she became their manager five years ago. They had outgrown their former manager Murray Bauman and was looking for someone younger to manage them so they hired her.

Nancy nodded. “It is.” She turned to Robin. “You’re his best friend, right? The quirky band chick who was always working with him?”

Robin was impressed with her way of asking the question without revealing anything significant about their identity. She brought her finger up to her contact and moved it aside to show the blue underneath before sliding it back into place.

“I’m assuming I’m the last resort?” Nancy asked after taking another bite of food.

Robin and Chrissy shared another glance.

“Not in the way you mean,” Chrissy explained. “I gave her a list of agents that might be able to have them on as clients and we’ve met with a couple of them but decided even before they got to what’s in the folder that they weren’t suitable for their needs.”

“The double lives aspect, I suspect.”

“Both of them wanted to push them into revealing themselves,” Robin said, nodding. “Which was completely off the table.”

Nancy licked her bottom lip and her eyes narrowed. “Is that off the table indefinitely or will we circle back to that sometime in the future?”

Robin rolled her eyes. “There’s no way to predict if they’re going to change their mind five-six years down the line.”

“I’m going to be frank,” she said, “I do not have a problem repping them. Not even Abbadon. But I understand there will be some awkwardness on both sides at first. I will even apologize in person. Because the fact of the matter is, I did hurt him. I strung him along until something better came along and then didn’t even have the decency to break up with him before moving on. I was young and stupid and even worse, I’m not even with that guy anymore. Like with me and Abbadon, we wanted different things.”

“Apologize first,” Chrissy said with a wicked gleam in her eye, “then we’ll see about hiring you for The Fallen.”

Nancy reached out to shake Robin’s hand. “Deal?”

Robin nodded curtly. “Deal.”

They moved onto the more tedious aspects of what they wanted out of Nancy as they finished their meals.

But as Robin was heading back to her car she had a small satisfied smile on her face. Yes, this really was the best option for the band.

****

Because of canon-Chrissy's unhealthy relationship with food, I wanted her to go hard into eating all things that her mom most likely forbade her from eating growing up. Hence the steak and the wine. Nancy I figured would be at least vegetarian with personality (just the vibes I get from her *shrug*) and Robin would absolutely be vegan. Just not a militant one.

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[milkpup]

｡⋆ʚ♡ like father, like son

›› chapter 2 ›› nsfw 18+ ongoing multi-chapter fic!

previous chapter ♡ next chapter

ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ

›› toji fushiguro x reader ›› megumi fushiguro x reader ›› toji x reader x megumi (mfm) ›› 18+ f!reader ›› started: 12/6/23 : updated: 1/29/24 : status: ongoing

‹𝟹 summary: You and Megumi are best friends. You've known eachother for almost your whole life. His home has become your second home. As time passes and life happens, Megumi slowly develops feelings for you, even though he's unaware of it. To complicate things further, you're now living with him and his father, who has also taken a liking to you.

‹𝟹 fandom: jjk, jujutsu kaisen

‹𝟹 genres / warnings: au - no powers, college au, power imbalance, pseudo-incest (they both want y/n, nothing w/ eachother), dubious consent

‹𝟹 tags: good cop bad cop, fluff, smut, angst, toji has a big dick, dilf toji, toji is his own warning, toji tries to be a good parent, toji is an asshole, toji is trying okay?, daddy dom toji, daddy kink, porn with feelings, porn with plot, friends to lovers, spit / spitting, spit kink, spit as lube, breeding, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, double vaginal pen, double pen, anal, making out, making love, love triangles, praise kink, degradation, light masochism, light sadism, emotional sex, cuckolding, jealousy, jealousy kink, smoking, smoking kink, emotional manipulation, manipulation, polyamory?, father and son share you, protective megumi fushiguro, megumi needs a hug, megumi has a big dick, aged up characters, dead dove: do not eat, finger sucking, large cock, cum swallowing, blow jobs, first time blow jobs, under desk blow jobs, fingerfucking, face sitting, face riding, 69, mutual masturbation, threesome mfm, lots of smut, loss of virginity

‹𝟹 notes: formatting next chapter for tumblr! there are currently 4 posted on ao3. i have the 5th in the works! it gets spicy!

!! - again, PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING - !!

! - ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ - !

Chapter 2: Intimacy and Exposure

--

By mid afternoon, you and Megumi are both exhausted with your full course load. You both major in biology, no emphasis right now. Megumi loves animals, so he will probably pursue something veterinary later. As for you, you’re undecided. You chose biology because it’s very general and broad, and also so you could be with Megumi more. You would never tell him that, though. You just say “idk maybe some science-y crap” and shrug it off.

You weren’t able to get lunch, so you both decide to visit a coffee shop after your last class of the day. A snack and some caffeine would help get you through for a while until you decide what you want to eat that night.

Megumi orders his usual black cold brew and muffin. The barista asks how to spell his name, and giggles? Is she flirting with him?

“That’s a cute name…” She says as she writes it down on his cup. “And for you…?” She barely glances at you.

You’re not sure how you feel in that moment. Was she flirting with Gumi? Am I jealous? Why is my heart racing?

“Oh I’ll just get an iced black tea and a banana bread please.” You try to not show your emotions while speaking. You’re not sure why you feel this way though.

You hope and pray to whoever is out there, any deity listening, that Megumi would not see you blushing and jealous.

You think you’re in the clear, he didn’t notice. He drives you home and you scroll your phone, acting like everything is normal. In reality, you’re shaking.

--

Sitting around the table, you both have your laptops and books out in front of you. It’s been a couple hours of studying, and you’re ready to take a break.

“Gumi, can we take a break and watch something? If I read the word bacteria one more time I’m going to go insane.” You tell him more than ask, already getting up out of your seat. You’re yawning, walking straight towards your bedroom, not even bothering to wait up for him. You already know he will follow.

Your room is hyperfeminine, plushies everywhere, cute shit everywhere. But you also have a mix of other stuff, like your consoles and gaming setup (that Megumi helped you get), a bass guitar that you’ve barely touched, piles of books you haven’t sorted yet.

You turn the tv on, hopping onto your bed. Megumi follows and lies next to you. You’re already aware of his presence and he isn’t even touching you.

“What do you wanna watch, Gumi?” You ask as you scroll through different apps.

“Whatever you want, you have better taste in movies and shows.” He doesn’t really care, he just savors the opportunity to be close to you. He lies behind you, almost touching but not quite. He’s close enough to feel the tickle of your hair. He feels weird thinking that your hair smells nice.

You choose some random comedy show, not caring to pay any attention. You just wanted a chance to rest and turn your brain off for a while.

Megumi moves a little close, resting his hand on the side of your abdomen. This isn’t the first time you’ve been close to Megumi, you both used to cuddle under the same blanket on cold nights or huddle under one when playing games as kids. But for some reason, now it feels different. Maybe it’s because you’re hyperaware? It has to be that, right?

Your heart beats faster, your skin feeling warm to the touch with every movement he makes. Does he notice? Is he aware of these things too? Am I overthinking things?

An hour passes by, but it feels like an eternity. You’re so hyperaware that every second feels like 20 minutes have passed. He hasn’t done more than gently caress the side of your body. He doesn’t seem to be making any advances. So why is this so painful to endure? Why does a simple touch make your body feel hot, with something pooling in between your legs?

Megumi is aware. You think he isn’t, but he can tell. Your breathing is irregular, your pulse is uneven, your skin is hot. He notices, and it drives him insane. But he’s respectful, he wouldn’t try anything. You are basically siblings with how long you’ve known eachother and lived together.

It’s getting hard to breathe. Even the lightest touch sends jolts through your body. You turn around to meet his gaze, with a look he’s never seen before. Your face is red, you’re struggling to breathe, while looking into his eyes like you know his secret. He’s flushing too, starting to sweat, feeling heat spread through his body. Your eyes are intoxicating to Megumi.

He looks at your eyes, then your panting lips, and back to your eyes again. He’s thinking of everything he wants to do to you, he doesn’t care if it’s wrong.

He touches your cheek, caressing you gently. Your breath hitches as he’s so close to you. He runs his fingers down your neck, before he pushes you to your back. It’s not forceful by any means, but mostly surprising.

He’s on top of you, pinning your arms to your pink bedsheets as he leans down towards you.

“Y/N…” he breathlessly speaks, “tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

You definitely do not want it to stop. You’re staring up at him with your doe eyes, unable to control your breathing. He leans in closer, his face not even an inch away from yours.

His lips crash into yours. You’re surprised, you didn’t think he would be so intense, and this good at kissing. He’s biting your lip, trying to elicit little yelps and mewls from you. He’s kissing you so roughly, forcing his tongue inside your mouth. Megumi is still on top of you, pressing his body against yours.

You can feel his heartbeat, his hot skin, his bulge against your body. You don’t know why, but you lift your hips and legs up a bit to angle yourself better against his body. Feeling him so close, pressing into you was making you feel almost drunk.

He releases one of his hands from pinning yours so he can caress your cheek a bit more. His hand travels down your neck again, moving towards your chest, before eventually resting at the bottom hem of your shirt.

He’s giving you sloppy kisses, before he momentarily stops to ask you a question. “Y/N, can I?” he asks while gentle tugging on your shirt.

You giggle. He’s too damn cute. You nod your head yes and he releases your other hand.

You pull your shirt above your head, leaving your bralette on.

He looks down at your flushed frame, no longer hidden behind some random band t-shirt. The moment you take your shirt off, he’s harder than ever before. You feel him poking into you a bit.

He kisses you with more passion this time, grinding his bulge into your clothed cunt. He’s grunting and making little moans in between kisses.

He lifts his head a bit to look at you and moves his hand over your bralette. He admires the intricate lace detail, thinking it suits you perfectly. He licks his lips. You know he wants to desperately feel what’s under, but you decide to tease him a bit.

You wrap your legs around his waist, forcing your bodies to be even closer. He grunts a bit, looking at you. You smirk and pull his head back down to make out with you.

You’re grinding against him with fervor, unrelenting and unforgiving. The feeling of him rubbing against you is oh so good, and extremely hot.

He moves his hand towards the waistband of your shorts. “May I, Y/N?” You think it’s sweet that he asked. You decide to reward him a bit.

You roll him over and push him against the mattress. You quickly get up and pull your shorts off, leaving your panties on. You take your bralette off. He’s watching you like a starved dog, savoring every second of this.

You pull his sweatpants off, leaving only his boxers on. He’s looking at you, with wide eyes, excited and surprised.

You straddle his waist, sitting on top of him. You grind against him, eliciting sounds of pleasure from his lips. You lean towards him, giving him a quick kiss on the lips, before leaving a trail down his neck. You suck on his skin, giving him small and faint lovebites. He looks so cute.

You have a suddenly devious idea. “Megumi, can I try something?”

He instantly nods yes; he wants you to do anything and everything with him.

“Lay down then, please. I want to try something I saw online once….” You say as you move towards his head. You’re hovering above him now. He’s directly at eyelevel with your clothed pussy, and he feels his boxers get tighter the closer you get.

“Let me know if you need me to stop, please <3.” You hum as you pull your panties aside and lower yourself onto his face.

He can feel your drenched cunt against his mouth and instinctually starts getting at it. Licking and sucking like it was his last supper. Megumi couldn’t really breathe, but he didn’t care. He could die right now and have no regrets. He would die a happy man.

You moan as he’s sucking and flicking between your folds. The noises you make drive him even more insane, he thinks he could cum right then with how much of a turn on it is.

You lift yourself up, giving him a moment to catch his breath as you look down at him. He’s staring up at you with the eyes of an animal.

You sit back down, and he continues once more. Sucking on your clit, savoring the taste of your essence, and basically fucking the air. He’s straining against his boxers now, desperate for any touch or release.

You have another idea. You lift yourself back up and turn around, your cunt still in front of his face. You lean down towards his straining cock. You push your cunt back down on his face, and like a good boy, he continues again.

“Fuck Megumi…” You whimper out as you push against his tongue. You move your hand over his boxers, palming his cock. You notice he’s quite big and you’re a little scared.

You release his cock from his underwear and it springs up. Megumi grunts under your touch. You stroke his cock a bit, slowly. That’s not your objective however.

You lift up once more as you move to spit on top of his cock. Megumi moans again, feeling the sensation of your spit covering the head of his cock.

You sloppily kiss the tip, earning a moan and a few curses from Megumi. “Fuck… Y/N.”

You move forward to suck the tip, before letting it come out with an audible pop sound. “You have hands too, Megumi…”

Your pussy is still in front of him, and he gently moves his hand to brush over your clit, circling it. You moan as you take him back into your mouth again. You’re desperately hoping this feels good, it’s your first time doing any of it.

Megumi pushes his index finger in, noticing how wet and tight your cunt already is. He’s salivating at the thought of when he can fuck your tight hole, but he’s content with just learning your body for now. Everytime he pumps his finger in and out, he hears your sweet, angelic voice.

The way you respond to his touch is music to your ears. Your mewls and whimpers drive him crazy enough already.

You take his cock back in your mouth, trying to push more in as he fucks you with his finger. He adds another of his slender fingers inside, feeling how he’s stretching you already. You moan around his cock, and this turns Megumi on more.

He moves to push you against the bed again, pushing your body down gently. He never breaks contact with your cunt, as he starts to fingerfuck you even harder. He’s watching you squirm and moan under his touch, and he can’t get enough of it.

“Megumi… Aah!!” His touch is relentless. He wants to hear every sound you can possibly make. He finger fucks you harder, feelings your walls clamp around his fingers. He uses his other hand to rub circles around your clit. You’re nearing your climax, and he’s eager to see all of it.

You’re drunk in the pleasure that is Megumi’s skilled fingers. He brings you to the edge, watching as pleasure washes over your entire body. He pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, wanting to savor your juices all while never breaking eye contact with you.

Your chest is heaving, but you want to make this man feel good too. You roll over and crawl across the bed towards him. He sits atop the bed once more, spreading his legs open and smirking.

The way you’re crawling towards him is incredibly hot. He knows what you’re about to do.

You make your way to his cock, spitting on it once more and stroking it a bit. You know you can’t fit all of this beast, but you want to try your hardest.

You look up at him as you take his cock into your mouth. You make it about halfway before you feel at your limit.

“Y/N, you’re taking me so well. You’re such a good girl,” he praises you as you drool over his cock. He gently grabs your hair, not tugging but mostly just applying pressure.

Your pussy drips again at the praise as you continue to go up and down. You’re finding a rhythm to breathe and still go at a decent pace. Using your hands also helps, and whenever you fondle his balls, Megumi’s eyes roll back into his head a bit.

“Y/N.. I’m close..” He says as he bucks his hips against your mouth. “Please.. don’t stop..”

You suck harder and moan against his cock. You don’t particularly like the idea of cum in your mouth, but for Megumi, you would do it.

He covers the back of your throat with his cum, and groans as you empty his balls like an expert. “Y/N… fuck…”

You pull back up, trying to not show how displeased you are with the taste of cum.

“That was… fuck…” He lets out an exhausted sigh. “Fucking… amazing…”

You’re laying down together again, not even caring to get dressed again. The studying can wait for later, for now you want to relish this moment.

You’re not sure what this means between you two, but you’re still happy that it happened. You yawn as he snuggles around you as the big spoon, surrounding by the same fuzzy blanket and cute plushies.

He thinks it’s so cute how tired you get after that. He lays there as you fall asleep before him, memorizing and tracing every detail of your body.

Toji comes home not long after Megumi finally passes out. He doesn’t see food on the table, and goes to check your room. He sees you and Megumi, asleep under your fuzzy pink comforter.

--

‹𝟹 notes: i will have the next chapter posted here asap :D feedback is always appreciated! ao3 has all the chapters so far!

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‹𝟹 notifs: @vvxxccaa @arylaa @starshipxoxo

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(･ω･)つ divider creds to @/cafekitsune and @/eloquentreverie

[harryyskiwii]

Summary: Flight Attendant Y/N meets Captain Harry Styles for the first time and they join the mile high club, sort of.

Pairing: Reader y/n X Captain Harry

Word count: 4,207

A/N: Hey everyone! So sorry I haven’t posted in a while. I’ve been on holiday the last week and that is what inspired me to write this 🥰As always, please feel free to request anything! Hope you enjoy!

One of the things you enjoyed most about being a flight attendant was the thrill of being able to visit new places, if only for a brief period of time.

You had worked for British Airways for 3 years now and soon you would be hoping to step up to Team Leader where you could help train and look after new flight attendants.

You usually only did short-haul flights out of your base which was London Heathrow and flew across Europe; the longest flight being 6 hours. Short hail suited you, you typically flew to 3 or 4 places within a day and by 1 am, you were back in your bed. That’s if all went to plan. For today’s first flight, you were heading to Dusseldorf in Germany, somewhere you regularly flew to.

You parked your car in the staff area of the airport, changed out of your trainers and into your small black court shoes as driving in heels was never comfortable.

You pulled out your small case from the boot of your car which contained a spare uniform because you won’t be caught out again; on a previous flight a passenger spilt their red wine all over you one time and you had no spare shirt to change into, your water, your lunch because aeroplane food was awful and some spare makeup to top up with in between flights.

You smoothed out your navy pencil skirt, so old fashioned you thought, and tied the red, white and blue scarf around your neck ready to enter the airport.

You headed straight for security and through the fast track lane since you were crew. Once past, you headed to the staff area to check which gate you had to go through to get to the aircraft.

Approaching gate 7, you showed the staff your pass and they nodded and let you go.

You headed towards the aircraft, where you saw the First Officer; Andy doing the pre-flight walk-around. You had flown with Andy for the best part of a year and you knew him well. He got into flying after he fancied a change in career from being in the police. You always liked Andy, he was a father to 2 girls who he adored and always made the typical dad jokes which meant it was normally a good flight with him

“Alright wee one, nice to see you” he smiled at you. “Hey, how are you?” You smiled back at him.

“I’m good, ready for 12 hours of pure joy?” He joked and you laughed. “Always” you replied.

“Who’s the Captain today?” You asked, always fearing if it would be one of the older, slightly rude Captains or one more relaxed and friendly.

“New guy, Styles his name is. Seems like a good bloke, think Daniel already has the hots for him” he winked and you laughed.

You relaxed at the mention of Daniel who you had become best friends with after you had both started the job on the same day. You loved working with him as he always seemed to make the flight go in faster.

“Hey! Am I glad to see you today” you said once inside the aircraft.

“Hey!!” He said hugging you “I’ve not been with you on a flight for ages, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do!” he said excitedly. You laughed as he always saw working with you as gossip sessions rather than working.

You headed towards the front portion of the plane where the crew placed their bags and got ready for the flight. You glanced in at the cockpit where you saw the Captain sitting doing the necessary paperwork before departure. Although you could only see the back of him you could tell he was wearing his black double-breasted black jacket with the 4 gold stripes on both the epaulettes and the sleeve of his jacket; showing his ranking as Captain.

He had short, dark brown hair which you could tell had been meticulously styled that morning as not a hair was out of place. You had never worked with this captain before, so you weren’t sure what to expect from him; some captains could be so far up their own, you weren’t allowed to speak to them unless spoken so you kept quiet and put your things away and headed back out to the main cabin to find 2 more girls who you didn’t recognise arriving onto the plane.

“Hi, I’m Emma, Team Leader for today. Nice to meet you” the tall blonde girl who was wearing a minimal amount of makeup but still managed to look flawless said to you.

“Hi nice to meet you, I’m y/n” “Lovely name, I’ll go sit my bag down and we can start the briefing” she smiled.

You noticed the other girl who had since boarded, she looked a little more reserved so you decided to introduce yourself.

“Hi I’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you” You smiled at her to help relax her. She looked young and a little unsure, she was maybe 18 or 19 years old so you assumed she hasn’t long qualified as cabin crew. You remember how nervous you were for your first few flights so you decided you wanted to look out for her during the day

“Hey, I’m Holly” she said. “Not long qualified?” You asked kindly.

“This is my 2nd flight” she said and you smiled.

“Don’t worry I remember my first couple of flights, it’s nerve-wracking but you’ll soon get the hang of it. There’s no better way to learn than doing it so if there’s anything you need a hand with today, just let me know. I’m always happy to help” you smiled.

“Come on, I’ll show you where to put your things” You smiled and led her towards the cockpit.

“So you can grab anything you need out of your bag and put it in the fridge if you’ve got a sandwich or anything like that, otherwise you can pop it in here and lock it, we all put our bags in one locker together

“Ahh, I thought I heard some voices. I was just coming to do the briefing” you heard the captain say from behind the cockpit door. You stood up straight and smiled at him coming out.

His eyes fell onto you first and he smiled “Harry Styles, pleasure to meet you” You shook his hand that he had extended for you and took in his beauty. He looked young, maybe 29 or 20. He had green eyes and fair skin which had a slight tan to it, making the dimple on the left side of his face more prominent.

“Y/N, lovely to meet you, Mr Styles”

“Please, call me Harry” he told you and you smiled at how genuine he seemed. Most captains would only allow you to refer to them as Captain and their last name so it was nice to have one who was more relaxed.

“This is our newbie Holly, this is her 2nd ever flight today” you smiled as you introduced the new recruit to him.

“Holly, nice to meet you. I’m Harry, hope you’re settling in well?” He asked kindly as he shook her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Captain Styles, yes settling in very well thank you” she sheepishly replied. It always was a bit intimidating to speak with a captain, especially ones you didn’t know much about.

“Call me Harry please” he smiled. “Shall we move to the cabin and start the brief?” He asked and you nodded, moving to the front part of where the passenger seats were located.

By this point, everyone was now in the cabin waiting to start the briefing. The captain introduced himself to the remaining crew members before you all took seats at the front of the plane.

“So my name is Emma I’m one of the British Airways Team Leaders and I’ll be working as number 1 for this shift. Today we’ve got Captain Harry Styles and First Officer Andrew Simmons on the flight deck. For cabin crew today we’ve got Daniel, Holly and y/n, I think we’ve already met each other by now yes?” Emma asked as she pointed to everyone during the introductions.

“Great, it’s a Boeing 777 we’re on today, I’ll let Captain Styles and First Officer Andy talk more about that in a bit. There are a total of 6 flights today; Heathrow to Düsseldorf, Düsseldorf to Heathrow, Heathrow to Las Palmas, Las Palmas to Heathrow and then Heathrow to Venice and Venice back to Heathrow. Full flights on all destinations so we need to be on top of our game in the cabin, Daniel can I ask you to be number 2 today? Holly, do you mind being 3 today and y/n as number 4?”

Number 1 meant you were looking after the passengers in the front of the plane, number 2 was in the middle of the plane, number 3 was in the back section of the plane and number 4 was an additional person who helped the rest of the team, including the flight crew.

You nodded in agreement, secretly glad you were given the position of helping to look after the captain and the FO.

“Captain Styles, do you want to run through your information?” She asked and he straightened up in his chair.

“Yeah sure I’ll just introduce myself a little more since I’m a new face to a lot of people. I’m Harry I’ve been a Captain now for 5 years having previously worked for Ryanair before moving here 3 weeks ago. Please call me Harry because Captain sounds old and although I’ve recently hit my 30s, I’m not quite there yet” This gained a few laughs from the crew, including yourself.

So he was attractive and funny? The more he spoke the more you found yourself more and more drawn to him. He was charming. But not in a cocky way, he seemed genuine and the fact he was a Pilot told you he was smart. Very smart. You always did have a thing for intelligence.

“We’ll be cruising around 30,000 feet once up in the air, weather looks good, clear skies with a 30% chance of light showers. The weather in Düsseldorf is 23 degrees which doesn’t concern us as we’ll have a 20-minute turnover before boarding to come back to the UK unfortunately, bet you wish you’d chosen long haul now Holly?” Harry joked at the fact that although travelling throughout Europe, you hardly ever got to even leave the plane.

You all laughed and Holly agreed. Harry continued with the briefing, telling you about the time durations, and quizzing everyone on emergencies, something which was legally required to ensure all crew knew what to do in the event of one.

“Thanks everyone, I think we can start boarding now” Harry smiled and Emma nodded, knowing to start the boarding procedure.

“Y/N can you help Holly if she needs a hand opening the rear door?” Emma asked and you nodded.

You headed towards the rear of the cabin with Holly behind you.

Once everything was set for boarding, you headed towards the middle of the cabin to help passengers find their seats and help with any luggage they had.

Luckily, boarding took 20 minutes and before you knew it, you were doing the safety demonstration for the passengers while the plane reversed out of the airport and to the runway. You could hear Andy’s voice informing the passengers of the information Harry had relayed to you earlier about the weather etc to keep them up to date.

With the safety demonstration over and having checked everyone had their seatbelts on, Emma nodded to you to signal that you could sit down and prepare for the take-off.

“Cabin crew take seats and prepare for take-off” you heard Captain Styles say and you smiled a little at the sound of his voice.

You sat down at the rear of the plane next to Holly and fastened your seatbelt.

“I’ve done hundreds of flights and I never get bored of the take-off or landing” you said to her quietly as you could feel the plane taxing down the runway.

“I’ve done a handful and still get nervous” she said and you squeezed her hand a little to let her know it was okay to be nervous.

He must have gone from 50mph to about 170mph in less than 30 seconds because before you knew it, you were being hauled into the air with such speed that you swear your heart fell out of your arse. A “fuck” could be heard under Holly’s breath and you laughed.

That was a sure sign of a good takeoff. For a plane to take off at such speed it requires a good sustained acceleration which was exactly what Harry did.

So he was attractive, funny, intelligent and good at lifting 150-ton planes off the ground? Was there anything this Pilot wasn’t good at?

As the plane climbed into the air, Andy’s voice could be heard over the intercom “Ladies and Gentleman please remain in your seats with your seatbelts fastened until the captain has switched off the seatbelt sign. Thank you”

A common command that was often used for eager passengers who would immediately take their seatbelts off as the plane took off the ground.

10 minutes in, the seatbelt sign was switched off and people started to immediately stand up to use the toilets, it always looked like the hunger games you thought.

Because the duration of the flight was only 1 hour and 25 minutes, only the drinks and snack service were required so you and Holly started with that as one of your first tasks, hoping to keep the passengers settled.

Halfway through the service, the alarm which alerted cabin crew to the cockpit was rung and so as the number 4, you left the drinks cart and headed to the cockpit.

You straightened out your skirt and pushed back a few loose strands of hair before knocking and going in.

“Everything alright?” You asked politely squeezing through the small door and inside the cockpit.

“I’m just gonna nip to the loo” Andy said and you nodded, understanding. It was policy that the cockpit operated a “2-person flight deck” which meant 2 people had to be in the cockpit every second the aeroplane was in use.

Andy exited and headed for the toilet.

“Come and sit down” Harry said to you as he glanced over at the seat Andy had been sat in. You moved and sat down in the First Officer’s chair.

“How’s everything out there?” He asked looking over at you. The plane was now set on autopilot meaning it no longer required the captains' manual control, rather a system was being used to control the path of an aircraft.

“Yeah everything’s good, no difficult passengers yet, although what are the chances I’ve jinxed it now” you laugh.

“For the next 5 flights, we’ll have the worst passengers in the history of aviation” he joked and you laughed at his quick white

God, he looked so good sitting there. He had taken off his jacket which revealed a clean crisp white shirt, still showing the 4 gold stripes on his shoulder, but the shirt revealed tattoos. Tattoos which made you feel there was a lot about the Pilot you wanted to find out about.

“Great takeoff by the way” you remarked to him and he smiled lightly.

“Thanks, I’d practised take-off loads in flight school and then just lots of experience I suppose”

The way he spoke was so gentle but also with such passion for his career in his voice.

“What about you, how long have you been in the air for?”

“I’ve been cabin crew for 3 years now, I love it. I was saying to Holly earlier that no matter how many times I fly, I still get the same buzz each time we take off and land”

You watched as his lips turned upwards into a smirk “You’ve not experienced my landing yet, wait until you do”

You laughed at the comment and right on time, Andy came back.

“Fancy swapping jobs for the day?” He joked when he saw you in his chair. You laughed and got up “No thank you, I’d rather not be responsible for 130 passengers” you said and they laughed.

“You guys need anything before I head back out?” You asked them both.

“Could I get a tea if possible please y/n?” Harry asked you politely.

“Of course, how do you take it?”

“Milk and 2 sugars” he told you and you took a mental note of it.

“Nothing for me thanks y/n” Andy said.

You headed back to the cabin, being stopped multiple times by passengers to ask for certain things before making this Captain his tea.

You knocked on the cockpit door and went in.

“Here’s your tea for you” you said handing it to Harry. He smiled and took it off you “Thanks” You headed back to get a Karen in row 21 the G&T she had previously asked for .

“Y/n!” You heard your name being called by the captain from behind the door of the cockpit you had just been in.

You sighed a little, sensing something was wrong and headed back in.

“That’s the best cup of tea anyone has ever made me” he remarked as he smiled at you.

You laughed slightly “I’ll add tea-making skills to my CV then”

“Honestly it’s perfect, I might have to request you on every one of my flights so you can make me the perfect cuppa”

“Right you two, enough with the flirting. Styles we’ve got 25 minutes until landing” Andy jumped in and you and Harry both laughed.

Andy winked at you and you continued with the rest of your tasks.

You arrived in Düsseldorf, with a very smooth landing from Captain Styles at 7:20 am with the next flight at 8 am, giving you a 20-minute turnaround time to get things ready for the next lot of passengers boarding. It was a quick turnaround and before you knew it, you were taking off from Düsseldorf back to London

Landing back at Heathrow at 9:30 am, the next flight was at 10:15 and already there was an issue.

A nervous passenger was starting to feel unwell and wasn’t sure if she would be able to fly to Las Palmas. You and Emma were trying to convince her that the 4-hour and 30-minute trip would be completely safe and she had nothing to worry about.

“I can’t, I can’t fly. What if the plane crashes or falls into the sea? I can’t swim, I will drown and die. I can’t” the passenger who looked no more than 25 said.

“I completely understand your nerves, I can assure you that aeroplanes these days are made to be very very safe and the chances of anything happening are so very slim” you tried to reason with her.

Meanwhile, Emma had instructed Daniel to tell the flight deck what the delay was.

“Hi, I heard we’ve got a nervous flyer?” You heard the same voice who had complimented your tea-making skills say from behind you. The woman nodded.

You looked up to see Harry standing in the cabin, looking to speak with the passenger.

You stepped back and let him crouch down beside her in her seat.

“I’m Harry, I’m the Captain who’ll be taking you over to Palma today. Can I ask your name?” He asked kindly to the passenger.

“It’s Rebecca” she said.

“Okay Rebecca, it’s nice to meet you. So Daniel explained to me that you’re quite nervous when flying?”

“Yeah, I worry the plane will crash or fall into the water”

“Okay I can see why those are concerns, the risk of a crash or the plane failing and falling into the sea is 1 in 11 million. The aircraft is completely safe and in all my years of flying, I’ve never had an emergency on board, well actually I forgot my coffee once which was a real emergency. I’m a real grump without my coffee” he joked and the passenger laughed, as did you at the comment.

“The team are all here to look after you during the flight and if you need anything at all, you can press this button above your head for assistance and they’ll be right over to help you. Does that put your mind at ease a little bit?” He asked still crouched down beside her.

“It does thank you yes captain” Rebecca smiled.

“Good, we’ll be taking off in around 10 minutes so sit back, relax and try and enjoy the flight as much as you can” He smiled and renters back into the cockpit to being the takeoff procedure.

During the flight, the nervous passenger fell asleep halfway through and only woke up when the plane was safely on the ground. Harry came to check on her as she was disembarking and she couldn’t thank him enough for his kindness in calming her down.

“It’s no trouble at all, you have a good holiday now” he told her as she left the aircraft.

So he was attractive, funny, intelligent, good at lifting 150-ton planes off the ground and great at calming people down. If you hadn’t already fallen in love with this man, by the next 3 flights, you definitely will have.

Thankfully, the following 3 flights were uneventful, except for the drunken guy who had spilt his crisps all over another passenger which you had to clean up.

The last flight from Venice back to base at Heathrow was welcomed. Your feet were sore, your makeup had half melted off and you couldn’t wait to get your hair out of the uncomfortable bun you were required to wear all day.

After seeing all the passengers off the plane, you started to clear up.

“What a day, thanks for all your help guys” Harry shouted down the cabin as he locked it up for the night.

“No problem Captain Styles, hope to be working with you again soon” Emma said to him.

“Likewise, you guys head off I’m just going to do a walk around” you heard him say.

“Are you sure?” Emma said. “Yeah sure, thanks again everyone” he said once more.

You, Holly, Emma and Daniel started to get ready to leave when you felt Harry’s arm touch yours slightly.

“You stay” you heard him whisper into your ear subtly as you passed him to get your bag.

You blushed and swallowed hard “You guys go, I need the loo” you said to the rest of them.

“Go in the airport” Daniel said and you hinted at him to go.

“Weak bladder, you go I’ll see you soon” you smiled at them.

“Text me later!” Daniel said and you smiled as they left the aircraft.

“Weak bladder eh?” The captain raised an eyebrow at you when everyone was out of sight.

You laughed “I couldn’t think of anything else”

He laughed and smirked at you “I couldn’t help but think about you today. That shitty landing in Venice was your fault, I couldn’t think of anything else”

“I’ll just add ‘distraction to pilot’ on my CV as well then shall I?” You joked.

“You’re such a distraction to the pilot,” he said quietly as he leaned in closer to you.

He cups your face in his hands and he leans in and slowly kisses you. The kiss soon starts to grow more intense as moans echo through the cabin.

He’s started to groan in your ear and kiss your neck up and down.

He pushes you down into a seat in the front row by your hips and he kneels down in front of you.

His hands go up underneath your skirt and start to pull on your tights to reveal your bare legs.

"Harry we can’t do this here." You say completely out of breath already.

“You’re right, the toilet is better. Does this count as joining the mile high club even if we’re not in the air?” He smirked as he led you, barefoot to the bathroom.

For the next 10 minutes, you and Harry enjoyed each other’s company in the toilet as he moved his hips slowly inside of you, each thrust getting faster and faster.

You felt like you might collapse soon and he knew it too so he decided to stop just before you orgasmed and let you out of the toilet.

You sat down in the front row, completely out of breath, a little disheartened he’d pulled out before you orgasmed.

He appeared from the toilet, zipping up his trousers and putting his belt back on.

“Let’s finish at my house” he said and you happily obliged. It was fair to say that night you never got any sleep, despite how tired you had been after your shift.

Thanks to Harry giving you the most amazing sex you’d ever had, you had never been more grateful to be an Air Hostess as you had been that day for meeting your now boyfriend, Captain Harry Styles.

[terrifyingly-overthought]

Uzi thunk…pls…

"Uzi Doorman those things killed your frikin' mother"

Did you know that Uzi's on the villains wiki? Bc I sure didn't.

Anyway Uzi Doorman hcs under the cut

Main character time lets go, jumping straight into this one:

Uzi will eventually turn into a murder drone (see my post about N for details)

Uzi absolutely refuses to say that she's dating N on principle (this is a lie and she knows it)

Uzi is always really tired, doesn't matter how much sleep she got

Uzi got over killing people waaayy too fast for everyone else's liking

Uzi's slover runs hotter than the dds but she needs to be colder, so she has to drink a LOT of oil

Uzi's tail sometimes gets stuck to things with it's spines

She tries to have a decent relationship with her dad sometimes: but it's hard to get through to him

Uzi wants to be a parent just solely so she can prove to Khan that she would be a better parent than him

Uzi sometimes experiments with her admin rights for N and V while they sleep (she once set their eyes to flash with rainbow colours and had a midnight disco on her own)

Uzi uses the healing powers of the solver to make even more dangerous tools and weapons without the risk of getting hurt

If Uzi ever found Beetlejuice the musical, she would spend days just listening to the soundtrack

Same with a lot of musicals and bands actually

The last time Khan left Uzi alone in the house for more than 12 hours, a large section of the bunker was lit on fire and destroyed

Uzi is oddly supportive of all the weird things N gets up to in the worker colony

V however has been shouted at multiple times for dropping on top of drones from the ceiling

The books Uzi uses to reach her locker are textbooks on doors that her dad wrote

She is the only one in her class that finds it weird that they can't just download the knowledge into their storage like, you know, a robot would

If she could find the spare parts, she would modify herself in any way possible (starting with extendable legs)

Uzi loves any weapon she can get her hands on and is thoroughly disappointed by her lack of claws from the solver

Uzi has a personal vendetta against a pipe that runs through her classroom after it burst and nearly short-circuited her

Uzi would be top of her class if she ever bothered to do the actual work

And if Lizzy didn't always get her dad to lower Uzi's grades

Uzi still hasn't figured out how to bypass her automatic censors, so every time she tries to properly swear she just goes *beep*

Khan fully blames N and V for activating Uzi's solver

Uzi occasionally will sleep hanging upside-down with N if they are caught out by the sun while hunting together

That's about it for this post, there are more but they start going a bit off the wall after here

Currently writing this instead of preparing for my art exam on Monday, 10 hours of lovely silence to enjoy being understimulated as all balls in... yay :(

At least I might get in some more thinking then

[jhilsara]

I Can See You

Pt. 1/ Pt. 2/ Pt. 3/ Pt. 4/ Pt. 5/pt. 6/Pt. 7/Pt. 8/Pt. 9/ Pt. 10/

Pt. 11/ Pt.12/Pt.13/Pt. 14/Pt.15/Pt.16/Pt.17/END

Mariana Jimenez-Watson or MJ works in a normal pub living life paycheck to paycheck. Nothing exciting happens to her except the occasional drunk getting thrown out. She's 24 working away and finds a wrench thrown into her very boring life. His name is Hobie and she thinks maybe, a little excitement isn't awful. In fact she might start to crave some change for once.

Small moments of Hobie meeting his world's MJ. AKA I made an MJ variant and I think she's neat.

Chapter 5

Life threatening events were not on her bucket list. In fact, MJ was content to mind her business and talk to pub patrons. She was happy to come in, pours some pints, make a cocktail, chat up the patrons and learn their stories, and then roll on home in the early morning hours. That was her routine every single day, she liked it that way. Her life wasn't supposed to be filled with crazy events and super villains. She was just a normal woman working in a small pub.

So why the hell does stuff just keep happening to her?

She’s been exhausted for the past two weeks, and it's not from any freak run ins with her local vigilante. To her surprise it's because of a single patron who started coming to the pub. Usually MJ is okay with the occasional drunkard. They always have at least one every other night.

MJ’s favorites are posted in small polaroid pictures behind the bar top that Andy has taken. The pub keeps a polaroid camera as a little gimmick for busy weekends. Andy will walk around to the tables and snap pictures of friends and couples. It’s just a cute extra thing they like to do, keeps patrons longer. The owner pays for the film and Andy likes talking to people. It’s a win-win. Especially the wall of shame, which has pictures of the unruly drunk bastards they’ve kicked out. It's her favorite photo section secretly, the faces they make when Andy points the flash at them is really entertaining. 

They have a new regular though and he drinks every night until her or Andy cuts him off. That's not uncommon, to have people come in and be cut off after an obscene amount of alcohol. It's not just the fact he's a heavy drinker... there's something unsettling about how he drinks that has starting to stress MJ out.

She can't put her finger on it, but it makes her stomach drop in dread every time she sees him. He drinks more than any patron they’ve seen before, but never gets unruly. He sits quietly, drinking beer after beer. His eyes following her, like a predator looking at their next meal. She hates interacting with him. It's his eyes, they're so... hollow.

The last time she handed him his tab he caressed her hand and she recoiled just as quickly. He gave her a slimy kind of smile that had her gritting her teeth. His eyes burning into her skin, making her itch and want to scream. She hasn’t served him tonight, but she feels him staring at her. She always feels his eyes following her, like a creepy portrait at night.

He genuinely scares her. Has her almost debating if she should just quite. She even tried to swap times with a coworker but he followed. He was there every time she was scheduled without fail. How he knew she was trying to change shifts made her even more unsettled. Making her skin prickle like she was being stabbed by tiny needles. 

She mentioned it to her manager but he just dismissed how she felt. Saying she was over reacting; the guy isn’t disruptive and he hasn’t actually done anything to her. All she could think was, ‘yet, he hadn’t done anything yet’.

She didn't bother trying to change shifts after that. She was ready to just leave the pub all together, but the pay was good. Too good to try and job hunt because of one man that creeped her out. 

She shakes herself out of her spiraling thoughts and tries to keep working. There was no use sitting there stewing on him, it would just terrify her. She wraps up her shift and goes in the back to clock out. Before she walks out though, she goes back to ask Andy a question about a show they were hosting the next night. She needed the contact information and Andy had taken the call. 

When she walks back out, she sees the guy is gone. Her gut is telling her it's wrong, he usually stays all night. Her face pales at the idea of walking out.

“Where did he go?” MJ asks pointing to his empty chair, her tone clipped. 

Andy shrugs nonchalantly, “He just closed out his tab. Why?”

MJ grows quiet and crosses her arms. “This is gonna sounds crazy, but something about him really freaks me out.”

Andy shakes her head. “No, not crazy. I don’t like how he looks at you. It’s fucking gross.” Andy frowns looking at her friend. It validates MJ's feelings and she sighs in mild relief. Someone else noticed. 

MJ leans on the back counter thinking, “Can I stay until you get off? I- I just have a bad feeling.” She asks looking at Andy with pleading eyes.

Andy nods her head, “Absolutely!" She replies reassuringly. "My boyfriends picking me up tonight and we can walk ya home or you can tag along with us. I’d hate for that guy to try and follow ya home.” She mutters bitterly making a disgusted face. 

MJ nods her head. “Thanks, I’m just gonna hang out in the office then. Maybe check the cameras.” She says pointing to the back.

MJ goes into the managers office, he wasn’t working tonight anyway, and she looks through his desktop to check the cameras. Her stomach was churning with uncertainty. 

Sure enough, the guy is creeping around the corner. He’s watching the back door. Suddenly a cold chill runs up her back. She jolts up and makes sure the back doors are locked. She quietly goes back into the office and curls in the chair, her body shaking. She takes a deep, nervous breath and just tries to not think about it.

There is no denying it, he definitely was waiting for her.

She shoves her face into her hands and tries to take some calming deep breathes. Her fingers dig into her hair and she holds it tightly. It doesn’t stop the panic rising in her chest. It burns in the back of her throat like bile and she squeezes her eyes shut.

With unsteady hands she shoots Hobie a text, asking if he could come pick her up. She doesn’t know if she can wait until Andy gets off. She looks back over to the cameras and the man isn't there anymore.

It should calm her down, she should be relieved, but it doesn’t. It's the opposite of reassuring... in fact it puts her on edge and she's more nervous than before.

Suddenly the back door handle starts to jiggle, almost as if someone’s trying to open it. She stares at the handle frozen in fear for what feels like forever. Her heart feels like it’s in her throat. 

Just as soon as the door handle shook, it ends. Leaving her alone in the silence.

She’s trembling and tries to calm herself down. He can’t get in.

He can’t get in. He can’t get in. He can’t get in. He can’t get in. He can’t get in. He can’t get in. She tells herself over and over again.

She locked it, it’s industrial, as long as she's in the back she's safe. She spends the next ten minutes trying to come down from her mini panic attack. Her body feels numb and she's never felt this frighten for her own life. Which feels trivial in the face of the strange super humans running around Old York.

Her phone buzzes, pulling her out. Hobie had texted her back, saying he was on his way. She was going to be fine.

She finally settles her breathing and feels calm enough to wait for Hobie. Her judgement was correct. She hears screaming and glasses shattering. The noise is so foreign she doesn't realize it's real until Andy comes plowing around the corner and barreling into the office. Andy slams the door shut, and turns off the lights. Her face is filled with fear as she turns around to grab MJ. 

“That guy, MJ, he- he came back!" Andy starts to whisper shout. Her voice hitching in anxiety. "He's bonkers! Threw a fit and breaking shit!" she says rushing over her words. "He was screaming for you MJ, Lars is handling it but I bolted." She grabs her hand and tries to drag MJ with her, "We have to go!” She’s whispering at her aggressively.

MJ moves to hold Andy's arms, she looks past her down at the computer's camera and sees Lars handing the man. The two girls take the opportunity to go to the back door and try to escape. They are met with an unbudging door.

“No, no, no, no!” MJ hisses and tries to open the door again, throwing her body weight at the door. She's frantic to get out, just escape.

“What the fuck!” Andy almost shouts. They try again and are meet with nothing. They're trapped. 

They hear glass breaking and it makes them freeze for only a moment before fear grips them. They run into the office, closing the door and locking it.

MJ makes her way over to the computer and sees the guy standing over Lars, holding a broken liquor bottle with a tight grip. She clutches at Andy and looks at her with wide eyes.

“I think he just killed Lars!” She hisses.

“What the fuck!” Andy replies and the two girls watch him through the camera. He’s blocking their only exit.

“We have to hide, that’s all we can do, or distract him…” MJ mutters.

“Where the hell are we gonna hide?!” Andy says in irritation.

MJ looks over to the closet in the office and shoves herself and Andy in it. The closet is filled with anything and everything, it’s honestly a mess. This could be to their advantage though. MJ finds an empty barrel, one used as decoration, and tells Andy to get in. Her friend looks at her like she’s mad.

“I’m not getting in that.” Andy hisses in a whisper.

“It’s the best spot you have and we don’t have a lot of time right now Andy!" MJ shots back quickly in irritation. "If he finds a locked door he’s breaking in. I’m gonna lock the closet but it can only give us so much time.” MJ whispers aggressively.

Andy sighs and gets in the barrel. “If he finds me first I’m killing you, not him.” She mutters.

MJ rolls her eyes but closes the barrel’s lid. She looks at the corner that’s filled with an abundance of random things. She moves some stuff around to hide behind. This is as good as it's going to get. The objects she's hiding behind are also hidden by a curtain. She hopes it'll be enough to save her. She’s shaking, clutching her phone to her chest. She turns it on silent, but texts Hobie quickly. She tells him in as little words as possible she’s hiding in the office and for him to call for help.

She knows the cops won’t come, even after their ‘reform’ they still don’t do much. Much less care about a local pub issue. That’s why they had Lars as their bouncer. Now Lars was maybe dead and it’s not like she could just call up the local vigilante.

She’s screwed unless she can somehow take this guy out herself with Andy. She’s trembling, clutching onto herself to not cry, this is not how she wants to go. Not from some creepy drunk patron. 

She hears the office door get kicked in and she tries to not gasp. He’s more than likely going to find her and not Andy, which she knew that was the risk. She’s holding onto a crowbar with a death grip. She’s just waiting for him to get in the closet. If he finds her she'll swing, fight, scream and claw her way out.

She wants to shut her eyes like a little kid and pretend this isn’t happening, but she can’t. Her hearts pounding as she hears the loud bangs on the closet door. With every hit it makes her jump. Then she hears it crash to the floor followed by heavy footsteps.

She’s trying to keep it together but tears fall down her face. She’s only human and fear is gripping at her heart.

She hears a loud grunt and a collapsing. She doesn’t dare look, but she hears something dragging against the floor.

“I don’t think ladies like stalkers much.” She hears, a new voice says mockingly.

She sits up quickly as she hears the familiar voice. She moves to stand up and quietly goes to look. She sees a distinctly spider silhouette through the broken down doorway.

His figure disappears but she can still hear him. He’s talking to the drunkard so she uses this opportunity to grab Andy. She rushes over to the barrel that Andy’s in and slides the lid off. She whispers to her, “Spider-Man’s here!”

“What?! How?” Andy says in surprise, they can hear the guy getting slammed into something, making them both jump. The noises they hear consist of loud banging and something being broken.

“Hell, if I know!” MJ hisses and makes her way over to the fallen doorway.

She peers around the corner, still trying to hide herself, and sees that Spider-Man has the guy pinned down. Arms tied behind his back and his face had been slammed into the desk. Specifically, the keyboard. The pieces are scattered and broken on the floor, a small pool of blood is underneath the man's head. 

She takes a shaky breath, one entirely too quiet, it’s enough to notify Spider-Man of her presence, his head shooting up to look at her. She sees his body relax, if just a fraction, upon seeing her.

“Mariana,” he whispers her name, so soft she almost misses it. “Always in trouble…” He says much louder, scoffing and shaking his head. She's frozen in place just watching him with large eyes.

He leans down next to the man's ear, “You’re lucky I got better things to do than rip you apart…” he hisses out.

He webs the guys arms together behind his back and throws him against the wall and webbing him there. He’s covered from the neck down to his feet, he is definitely not moving anytime soon.

Andy comes over next to her and grips MJ’s arm, letting out her own shuddering breath.

“Fuck, Lars!” Andy says in realization and bolts back to the front of the pub to assess their security guard.

MJ can’t move, her eyes are glued to Spider-Man, she feels like she’s going to pass out from the swell of relief. He turns back and silently comes over gently grabbing her shoulders to look at her.

“C’mon let’s get you outta here.” He says, voice a little gruff as he wraps an arm around her. She leans her weight into him as a support almost instinctively. She’s still trembling slightly from the fear that gripped her heart.

They walk through the front and MJ sees Andy helping Lars sit up. He was okay, just a little scratched up. MJ smiles, glad to know her bouncer was safe and not dead.

“We’re gonna call someone and I’m staying with Lars. MJ you should go.” Andy says looking over at the two.

Before she can open her mouth and protest staying with them the vigilante speaks up, “I’ll get her home.” 

Before MJ can even find her voice to respond the two are outside and he’s pulled her against him like before and starts swinging them across the city.

She’s confused and nauseous her grip tight as he swings them.

“You okay?” He asks her.

“Is this really the best time to ask me?” She mutters, groaning at the quick movements and feeling the air hit her face. Instead of it being refreshing, it stings instead.

“You gotta talk to me, it doesn’t have to be about that.” He says, voice a little rough. His grip on her tightening a fraction.

“Why?” She asks. She leans back enough to try and look at his face. Even covered in a mask, she’s trying to find something to help her read his expression.

“I just need a distraction or I’m gonna go back and rip him in half like the scum he is.” He mutters bitterly.

She narrows her eyes and whatever jumbled thoughts were swimming in her brain have finally clicked together, like pieces of a puzzle.

“Fine…but I can’t talk about what just happened.” she replies.

He grunts in acknowledgement, “Anything, we can talk about anything.” He keeps swinging, he doesn’t even need directions to get to her flat. He’s taking the right turns, as if he's done it a million times before.

“When were you gonna tell me you’re Spider-Man?” she accuses without hesitation. 

He misses his next web, causing them to fall a bit before he catches them again. His masks eyes widen as he looks at her.

Her brows are furrowed and she’s looking at him expectantly.

“What ya talkin’ about? Course I’m Spider-Man.” He tries to play off with a fake laugh.

Her face doesn’t change she raises a brow in irritation, “Hobie.” Her voice is shaking a bit, “When were you going to tell me?” She says again.

He groans and stops swinging them, he lands them on a random roof and he sets her down. His hands cover his masked face as he shakes his head. Pacing back and forth. He turns to look at her, pauses, and then rolls his head back again.

He pulls his mask off and gives her a look like he’s mildly impressed. “What gave it away?” He asks.

She takes a deep breath, “You, you were the only one I had texted…and well, you called me Mariana. Pretty sure I never told Spider-Man my name.” she whispers.

He nods and walks closer to her, he brushes his hand along her cheek, “You’re okay right? He didn’t find you?” he asks. His eyes looking over her, making his own assessment.

She nods, “No you got there just in time.” She whispers, she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. She presses the heels of her palms into her eyes trying to stop herself from crying.

 She’s safe. She knows she’s safe. Hobie came like he said he would.

She runs her hands down her face and looks up at him, his body has relaxed and he pulls her to him. Tightly hugging her. She easily wraps her own arms around him, grounding herself.

“You’re too much trouble…” He murmurs into her hair.

She chuckles in response and presses her forehead to his shoulder, “Maybe it’s you who’s trouble.” She replies.

He gives a dry laugh, “Yeah, probably.”

The two hold onto each other tightly, breathing together, trying to match their hearts to the same gentle rhythm. 

[rapha-reads]

Things from Interview With The Vampire s02e04 (ep11) I noticed:

[Edit 1: Actually this turned into a live-commenting, sorry]

[Edit 2: Keep in mind, I haven't read the books, so all of these observations are born from the show itself and the few (lots of) spoilers and narrative plot points I've gleaned here and there.]

Both Claudia and Louis are so bored with the coven. Or maybe bored isn't the word, but... Done? Frustrated and annoyed? Restless? Louis because he never intended to join and so cares not all for all their internal affairs. Claudia because she thought she'd finally have the life she wanted and instead is being forced to relive the tragedy of her life day after day.

And Armand rejoices in drawing them further apart, scolding and punishing Claudia while begging scraps from Louis.

And he's soooo jealous. The face he makes when Louis starts explaining what Dreamstat feels like is priceless.

Also, personal theory: either Louis is indeed suffering psychotic breaks after psychotic breaks, or just manifesting his own version of Lestat because he doesn't want to let go. Or Lestat can astral project and has been stalking Louis from the moment they left New Orleans.

The coven is tearing itself apart. And normally I'd add "and Armand isn't even seeing it/taking it seriously yet" but given that the whole of them are unreliable narrators and that Armand is a shady ass bitch whose only agenda is himself, I'd say he's well aware and purposefully making it worse.

I can't make sense of Santiago yet, though. Is he jealous? Ambitious? Is he fond of Claudia? Does he hate her? He definitely hates Louis, but is it just jealousy or real antipathy? Oh, but Louis is still my precious special kitten and that speech about Paris, art and modernity, as a contemporary culture student, made me vibrate a little out of my chair, and Santiago clowning him makes me want to claw his face. We get it, you hate him and you think he's pretentious, now can you shut up and let us talk a bit more about the art scene in Paris post-WW2 and why Louis is absolutely right, Picasso isn't all that impressive in the end? Thanks. Bacon tho, Bacon is interesting. My contemporary art teacher last year was excruciatingly boring, but he had a boner for both Louise Bourgeois and Bacon and we spent several hours on them (and not nearly enough about Mapplethorne, alas). Anyway. I feel ya, Lou. I have been called pretentious too for simply getting excited about art, culture and folkore.

I'm rooting for Louis and Claudia to kill them all off and run away to Italy. I know it won't happen, but one can dream, eh.

Is Armand messing up with both Daniel by getting into his mind and Louis by switching the photos? Interesting. Two people who have a shitton of issues stuck with a sadistic, insecure and bitter control freak who's been pulling the threads since way before anyone realises. And Louis is so lost in his trauma and grief and anger, he trusts Armand and doesn't see what's happening and been happening to him for 70 years, while Daniel is just a sad, sick old man who thinks he knows his life and what his future entails. Armand is definitely having fun.

"Je n'aime pas fenêtre quand fermée" is NOT FRENCH, MY EARS. I will be picky, I don't care for artistic licence. Correct sentence would be "je n'aime pas les fenêtres quand elles sont fermées". Admittedly, if it goes into a song, you'd have to respect the length of the line and all those musical measures. But still. You could shorten the numbers of syllables by dropping the language register: "j'aime pas les f'nêtres quand elles sont fermées" ; from 12 or 13 to 9, the original line being 8 or 9. Depending on whether you say "je-n'ai-me-pas" or "je-n'aim-pas" and "fe-nê-tres" or "fe-nêtres". Anyway. I'm sure the writers had those discussions (I hope; hey, AMC, hire me, I'm a good proofreader and I speak 5 languages).

Me: oh, Louis isn't even bothering now, he's directly talking to... Wait, is Lestat eating that photo? If it's Dreamstat: the hell is going on in your head, Louis? If it's Astral Lestat: that is certainly a choice, my friend.

"Barely Balthasar", LMAO, Lestat I fucking love you. Poor Balthasar always gets forgotten in adaptations. Nope, we're not here to talk R&J, moving on.

Armand: "this is my tragic backstory. Feel pity for me. I'm the good guy." Me: yeaaah, how much of this is actually real? And, uh, no, like Lestat said: ha! You're a storyteller and a conman, Armand. You weave your story to pluck at the heart's threads of your audience, modulating it to their sensibilities to better serve your own interests and your plans. What are those interests, these plans? Hell if I know. But I absolutely do not trust you at all.

HANDS OFF CLAUDIA OR I'LL BITE

"The wilderness that is our daughter" have I said lately how much I love Lestat.

Oh, hello, the Loustat scene on the bench just broke my heart, which is funny if you consider that that's just Louis breaking up with himself. Also, do we consider Louis knew about the initials in the pocket, and Dreamstat is saying what Louis wants him to say, or is it another unreliable narrator Louis, or is it Lestat himself...?

Aw, going from the Loumand scene on the bench to "toxic gay divorce with body count" sure is a tonal shift. Lmao. You're losing your touch, Armand. Louis' awakening. Daniel's awakening... San Francisco next, that will be fun. Excited to see how they've changed that part, knowing it's the red thread of the first book.

...

Oooh, that got long. Apologies. I really need to sit and read those books.

[wikiangela]

tease tidbit tuesday💀

tagged by @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @daffi-990 @fortheloveofbuddie @disasterbuckdiaz @hoodie-buck 💖

hi! so, yesterday I randomly opened the doc with the buddie death cast au - which is a fic I started writing last summer on vacation and never got back to it but then made progress lol it's gonna be MCD, which i know is not everyone's thing so feel free to ignore this 🤣 it's basically buddie in the universe of the "they both die at the end"/"the first to die at the end" books so it's gonna be sad, sorry lol (I never even read mcd, idk why i'm writing this but this idea just wants to be written i guess haha) gotta put this weird mood I've been in lately to good use and finally write this 🤣 not sure if I'm happy with this snippet, but it all needs editing, the first two snippets were written on my phone and haven't been edited yet lol

I posted two snippets so far, gonna link them both snippet 1 | snippet 2

___

“Is all of this clear, Eddie?” she asks in the end.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” he says shortly. He should've just hung up immediately. Or cancel this stupid subscription after Shannon died. Sometimes he wonders if maybe people who get the calls and coincidentally get into accidents, for example, just give up and refuse to fight because they think it’s their time. Not like Shannon could do much, her injuries were too severe when they got there, but the point stands. Maybe they get more reckless, thinking it doesn’t matter anyway. 

There’s a short pause on the line, but then Jane speaks up again, her tone softer, more sympathy seeping through.

“I know it’s not easy to accept, if you’d like some help with that, on out website you can find therapists and grief counselors specializing in-”

“Listen.” Eddie interrupts. He’s spent enough time in therapy. He’s not doing it on his supposedly last day. “I know it’s all bullshit. I don’t care. You said what you had to say, I listened, for whatever reason.” he rolls his eyes. He really should’ve hung up, or not answered at all. “Is this conversation over yet?” he asks and is met with another moment of silence. She’s probably wondering what everyone else always is: why is he even spending money on this if he doesn’t believe. He has an answer ready to go, but that’s not what she asks.

“Can I ask you a question?” she says quieter, whispering, probably not allowed to go too much off-script. 

“Sure, why not.” he shrugs. He’s wide awake now, anyway, he’s not in a hurry. Not like he’s dying anytime soon.

“If it was your last day, how would you spend it? You don’t have to answer, just think about it.” she adds quickly, her tone much softer and gentler now. Eddie’s mind immediately supplies a picture of Christopher and Buck, just a casual hang-out, like usual, maybe going to the movies, or the aquarium, or the planetarium, something fun for his kid. And later a gathering with the rest of their family, maybe a barbecue at Bobby and Athena’s, with Maddie and Chim, and Hen and Karen, all their kids, just everyone having fun together. Yeah, that’d be a perfect day. “There’s no harm in spending today just like this, if possible. Just in case.” Jane adds, still whispering. He doesn’t tell her that’s more or less his plan, anyway, for the evening after his 12-hour shift. During which nothing will happen to him, because Death-Cast doesn’t know shit. “Well, lastly, Eddie,” Jane’s voice is back at normal-volume, tone strictly professional but sympathetic, as she recites the end of her script, “on behalf of everyone here at Death-Cast, we’re so sorry to lose you. Live this day to the fullest.”

Eddie hangs up without a word.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @housewifebuck @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @nmcggg @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @king-buckley @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @puppyboybuckley @weewootruck @buckaroosheart @spagheddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @exhuastedpigeon @jesuisici33 @theotherbuckley @rainbow-nerdss @malewifediaz @giddyupbuck @diazsdimples @jeeyuns @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @honestlydarkprincess @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks

[daddyy333]

“I’m scared” | Steve Rogers x y/n

if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it

word count: 3.6k

warnings: reader is kidnapped, reader is tortured, ready is severely injured, hospitals, blood, bruising, panic attack

summary: Even the strongest people, including Avengers, feel human emotions and y/n still hasn’t gotten used to that

Steve paced the room, clutching your dog tags in one hand whilst he rested his hands on his hips. 6 days. 6 goddamn days they’d had you. They sent your dog tags back to them on day 2, and had been sending untraceable videos every 12 hours.

He should’ve stopped you. He got trapped under some debris and instead of getting out of there you focused on getting him out. When you finally did, more Hydra agents came running towards you and you shoved Steve out of the building and ran to fight them off.

That was the last time he saw you. No “goodbye”, no “I love you”, no hug, just pure fear and adrenaline running through each other's veins. You were in awful shape from what he’d seen in the videos, beaten nearly to death.

You were barely conscious now, your head throbbing and your vision blurred and slightly darkened in your left eye. You couldn’t hear normally and your entire body hurt like hell. You think you were stabbed in your thigh, or at least cut because it hurt so much and there was a puddle of blood underneath you.

“Steve…” you whimpered softly, shaking as you laid on the floor in the fetal position. Your hands and legs were tied, leaving with no way to move or even think about getting out between the restraints and the pain.

“P-Please…Steve,” you cried, begging for him to save you. You were so scared and in so much pain, you just wanted to hear his voice or feel his touch again. You wanted to be with him again, to be safe.

Another shock to your back, the police taser they must’ve stolen or bought illegally leaving you unconscious. At least you wouldn’t feel the pain for a while.

Steve sighed, running his hand through his messy hair. Bucky suddenly opened the door noisily, panting harshly. “Steve! Steve, come on let’s go” he said and Steve shook his head, brows furrowed but before he could ask Bucky was already gone.

He scoffed and ran after him, being led to the quinjet. “What’s going on?” He asked, his heart pounding. Tony flew in after him and said “we’ve got a location, suit up”

12 minutes later they were landing in front of what looked to be an abandoned building, but there was a small hydra symbol scratched into the door. Steve didn’t even bother to listen to the plan, he sprinted as fast as he could and kicking the door in.

He searched every room, fighting off whoever he had to. The team followed, their only focus to find you and bring you home. Bucky was the one that found you, and his heart broke. You’d become like a little sister to him, and he didn’t want to see you like this.

“Nat! Come here!” He said, panicking because he couldn’t tell if you were breathing. He let out a shaky breath and said “whatever you do, do not let Steve in here” “oh god,” she said, catching a glimpse of you. He snapped and said “hey! I’m serious”

Natasha nodded and Bucky closed the door, running to you. He gently moved you onto your back, feeling for a pulse. It was weak, but you were still alive. He shook you lightly, trying to wake you up, your skin ice cold.

“Y/n! Come on, come on, wake up!” He said and sighed. Tony came in and shook his head, using the suit to get your basic vitals like your heartbeat and stuff. “We need to get her to a hospital. She’ll be- god, she’ll be fine as long as she gets to a hospital” Tony said and picked you up bridal style.

You groaned weakly, a tear falling down your face. “Hey, hey it’s just me. It’s Tony. The big asshole you hate more than anyone in the world, remember?” He said and more tears slipped down your face. You moved your jaw just slightly, a weak attempt at a whisper as you basically mouthed “Tony?”

“Yea, yea I’m here. Don’t panic, alright? We’ve got you now, you’re safe. We’re gonna take you to the hospital” he said and you moved your head into his chest, a small and pained sob leaving your mouth.

Tony bit his lip, shaking his head. He sighed and said “Natasha! Open the door!” As he moved out of what felt like a jail cell. She gasped as she saw you, tears filling her eyes.

“Y/n?” Steve said, his voice shaky and his breathing harsh and unsteady. Tony cursed and you groaned. “Steve” you whispered hoarsely. You could barely hear well enough, but it was so quiet you hoped whoever was calling your name was Steve.

“Hey, hey it’s me. I’m right here, y/n, it’s me. It’s Steve” he said and you forced your eyes open as much as you could. You whimpered, squirming and whining as you whispered Steve’s name over and over.

Tony gently placed you in his arms and you settled after a few moments, his warm hands cradling your body and his voice settling your anxiety in ways you didn’t think were possible. “Don’t go…please…stay wi-…with me” you struggled to say and he shushed you, assuring you that he was with you.

He tried to put you down so that the nurses in the quinjet could do whatever they could to help you but you whined, your cries getting stronger and your fear and discomfort obvious. He sat on the stretcher and said “okay, okay I’m here. I won’t let you go, I’ll hold on to you as long as I can, alright?”

You whimpered in response and the nurses started wiping away the dirt and blood off of your body. You whined and groaned, crying out when they brushed over bruises and cuts. “I’m so sorry…I’m so goddamn sorry” Steve said, caressing your hand.

You winced, a pained sound leaving your mouth as they tried to move your ankle. Yea, you thought something happened to it but now you were sure it was sprained or something.

Steve almost felt nauseous watching this happen, tears stinging in his eyes. He just wanted to close his eyes and then wake up next to you and be told he was having a nightmare and you’re completely fine. But of course that wasn’t going to happen.

As soon as they got to the hospital Steve ran into the building, begging for help. The doctors brought over a stretcher and he ran after them as the moved you to a trauma room. “Sir you can’t be in here, you need to wait in the waiting room” one of the nurses said and he sighed.

“Steve” you said weakly, sniffling. The doctor was trying to calm you done but the heart monitor was proving that you were only panicking without him. “Okay, okay damn it, get him in here” the doctor said and Steve was at your side in the blink of an eye, holding your hand and making sure you could hear his voice and know that he was there.

You cried and cried through the pain, and even passed out twice which was scaring the shit out of Steve. “Okay, we don’t think you’ll need surgery but we are going to give you a sedative so you can calm down and won’t exactly feel everything while we work on you” the doctor said and you groaned weakly.

Steve worried when your eyes fluttered close yet again, and his heart dropped when they said you were completely fine but the mild sedative made you sleep because of how exhausted your body was. He still stayed with you, refusing to leave, even when the doctors told him he needed to be checked as well, as he did get a few minor injuries while fighting off hydra agents.

Eventually he dozed off at your bedside, exhausted from days staying up late worrying about you. They had to find their strongest doctors to lift the dead weight that was Steve Rogers onto a stretcher which is when he finally decided to wake up.

“Hey, hey! Where’s y/n!” He said, panicking. They moved so he could see you right next to him. “She’s alright, she’s all taken care of now, we need to have a look at you please” one of the nurses said and he sighed. He laid back down, letting them wheel him to the next room and changing into a hospital gown so they could access different parts of his body better.

He sighed, hands and feet shaky as he waited impatiently for them to finish. He knew he was fine, this was so unnecessary when what he needed right now was to be by your side.

As soon as they said he was fine he put his suit back on and ran to your room. You were still asleep, your lips in an adorable pout as your long lashes kissed your cheeks. You look so much better, of course you had some bruises and a few cuts here and there but it was nothing compared to how bad he thought it was.

He gently grabbed your hand, kissing it softly as a tear fell down his face. He just wanted you to wake up, he wanted to hear your voice and look into your eyes and know that you were okay and you were with him.

His gaze trailed to the heart monitor, watching it beep steadily. 83 beats per minute. His was 105 right before they let him go and it probably still was. He was really really anxious.

A few minutes later the team came in and all collectively sighed with relief, which almost made Steve chuckle. Wanda came in and said “I-I’m so sorry, I did not know what was happening until I saw it on the news. Why wasn’t I informed?”

She looked towards the team but was shocked to hear Steve speak. “Didn’t want to bother,” he said softly. She sighed and said “bother? Ugh, you upset me sometimes” He chuckled and she brushed your hair out of your face.

“What happened?” She asked and Steve sighed. He bit his lip and said “I uh…got trapped under some debris and couldn’t get out and she came back to help me and we were trying to get out of there and she got me out and basically offered herself to them to keep the rest of us safe. It’s my fault”

“Steve, it's not your fault. It’s no one’s fault. She did what had to be done. She knew the consequences and she’d probably do it again just for you, punk.” Bucky said and sighed. Steve looked away, a sad smile on his face. He didn’t deserve you.

The team brought him some clean clothes and he changed and finally ate something. He was so glad you were okay, he had to keep himself from giggling like a little kid.

He let you sleep for hours, and even dozed off himself until finally you woke up. It was night time now, and when your eyes focused you could see it was 8:28pm on the clock on the opposite wall to the one your bed was against.

You nearly panicked, your heart rate spiking for a moment before you looked around and realized you were in a hospital. You tried to lift your hand but there was some kind of weight holding it down.

You looked over and saw Steve sleeping, his head partially on your hand whilst he held it in his sleep. “Steve,” you said, relieved. Your voice was a bit more clear and louder than before and it woke him up out of his light sleep.

His head shot up frantically and you gasped, not expecting that. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, looking up at you. He gasped, a smile instantly forming on his cute face. You slowly placed your other hand on his cheek, caressing it softly.

“You found me,” you said, tears forming in your eyes. He nodded, cupping your hand with his free hand, kissing it softly. “Can I hold you? Please?” He said, his baby blues forming into adorable little puppy eyes.

You felt safe. Every feeling of fear and pain was gone. You trusted him more than anything. “Please?” You said quietly and he felt his heart flutter. He stood up and sat next to you, wrapping his arm around you and letting you lean into his warm chest.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. You have no idea how scared I was, y/n, I was worried sick. I couldn’t eat, I could barely sleep, all I wanted was to be in this moment right here” he said and you sighed shakily, tears forming in your eyes.

“I was so scared, Steve” you said, his heart breaking at the cracks in your shaky voice. He held you tight, but gently as you cried softly, trying to hold it back. “I know, babe. I can’t imagine the kind of things you experienced and I hope every one of those heartless assholes rots in hell. You’re safe now, my beautiful doll. I won’t let anything happen to you” he said and you sniffled.

“I love you” you cried into his chest, over and over again. You worried you’d never see him again, never hear his voice again or feel his strong arms around you. “I love you more,” he said, kissing your head.

He spent every moment you were awake holding you and reassuring you and making sure you were okay. He fed you and helped you shower, and spent ten minutes before the shower reassuring you that he wouldn’t judge you for your new scars and bruises, that he loved every part of you and those scars proved just how strong you are.

He talked to all the doctors for you and communicated everything to you so it wouldn’t overwhelm you, and you were out the next night. Steve drove you home, one hand holding yours and the other steering. He caressed your hand the entire time, sometimes tapping his thumb to the best of the low music or tracing shapes.

Once you parked you didn’t even have time to blink and he was at your side, helping you out of the car. You could walk okay now, your ankle was a little swollen but there was nothing wrong internally so it must’ve just gotten hit pretty bad at some point.

With the I.Vs they’d given you and the food Steve had shoved down your throat you actually felt pretty energized already, greeting the team with a shy smile. Everyone looked so relieved to see you alive and well, especially Nat and Bucky.

“Scared the hell out of me, kid. Quit being the hero, damn it” Nat said, sighing. Steve kissed your head and said “she’s right, babe” “yea, yea, yea” you said and chuckled.

“You alright?” He asked and you nodded. You held onto his arm as you said “I’m fine, Steve. Whatever happened, happened. It’s over now I’m fine” “are you sure?” He asked and you rolled your eyes. “I’m gonna hit you” you said and he chuckled, kissing your cheek.

Eventually you got back to your bedroom, throwing your hair up in a messy bun and changing into your comfiest clothes. “Steve?” You asked as you came out, noticing he wasn’t in the room anymore. You cleared your throat and sat on the bed, sighing.

You opened your phone and checked whatever notifications you had, scrolling for a bit. Something shiny on your desk caught your attention and you stood up, slowly making your way over. You picked up your dog tags, a shiver running down your body.

Tears filled your eyes and you felt shaky, your heartbeat thumping in your chest. Your hand began to shake and you blinked a few times, shaking your head. You whimpered slightly, trying to sit on the bed but you missed and fell right on your ass.

It brought right back to that stupid cell, being thrown down on the floor and kicked against the wall. You can still feel that pain in your body and combined with the pain you were experiencing from falling made it hard to even think about calming down.

“Steve” you called weakly, you were trying to be loud but you couldn’t breathe and your throat felt so tight. Tears rolled down your face as you frantically tried to catch your breath but no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t do it and it was scaring you more.

You tried to call for Steve again but you couldn’t even speak, and your vision was blurry and started to blacken. You whimpered and sobbed weakly, worried that somehow you were going to die and put Steve through the trauma of finding you.

“Here, I made you a grilled cheese- woah, woah woah woah babe…” he said and set the plate down on the nightstand, trying to get your attention without touching you. You continued to cry, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to focus on breathing.

“Y/n! Y/n, come on look at me please sweetheart. I’m right here,” he said and gently placed a hand on your back. You jumped, trying to focus on whoever was touching you. You blinked rapidly, realizing it was Steve.

He pulled his hand off and you whined, grabbing onto his shirt and trying to hide yourself in his chest. “Steve, Steve! Steve!” You cried weakly, just barely whispering as loud as you could. He carefully wrapped his arms around you, kissing your head.

“I’m here, I’m here y/n. It’s me, Steve. Tell me what’s wrong. Are you in pain?” He asked and moved your head to his heartbeat, the sound you’d fall asleep to every chance you had. Your body was shaking so hard, you squeezed his shirt tight out of pure fear.

“You have to breathe, doll. Try to catch your breath, I’ll do it with you come on” he said and you groaned. You whimpered weakly, whispering something that Steve barely managed to understand.

“Please don’t h-hurt me, don’t hurt m-me, don’t- don’t hurt m-m- me,” you repeated over and over again. He closed his eyes for a moment, his heart clenching at how scared and frantic you seemed to be.

He held you tight, speaking softly and trying to encourage you to focus and calm down. It took so long, your food got cold, but eventually you were taking deep breaths all on your own, tears dried on your face. You were still shaking, hands still holding tight onto Steve.

You feel a lot better, but you know you’re not okay and you know it’s bad because you're admitting it. “I’m scared, Steve” you said quietly, he almost didn’t hear you. This was the first thing you’d said in at least 15 minutes.

“I-I know, I know you’re scared but that’s okay. No one can hurt you though, you’re safe here, in my arms. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. But it’s completely normal for you to feel scared. I’m gonna be right here to remind you that your safe everyday until you’re not scared anymore” he said and you took a deep, shaky breathing, moving so your forehead rested right against his chest.

“It feels…so stupid of me” you said, voice shaky, almost like you were gonna cry again. His heart broke and he said “don’t cry, precious. It’s not stupid. Anyone would feel this way, it’s not weird or wrong” “I’ve been through enough, this shouldn’t be such a big deal!” You said, fists clenching tighter.

He grabbed your hands, caressing your fingers. “You just escaped a very, very dangerous and harmful situation less than 48 hours ago. Don’t be upset at yourself for feeling, babe. It’s the most human experience that there is” he said and you sighed.

You looked up at him and said “it’s never been like this before” “because you’ve never let yourself be vulnerable. I told you I’d make you the happiest girl ever. Part of that means feeling all the bad stuff too, so you can be even happier” he said and you smiled sadly.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, wiping your tears away. You looked down at his shirt, wrinkles left where your hands were. He cupped your face in his warm hands and he saw the tension leave your body, muscles relaxing and unclenching from all the stress you’ve experienced.

“I hope you get used to this, cause you’re gonna go through a lot of bad feelings for a while. I’m not letting you run away from it anymore, especially not now” he said and you rolled your eyes. He smiled and said “now, eat your cold grilled cheese,”

You giggled and took a bite, playing with the sleeves of his shirt as he stared at you lovingly. You leaned your back against the bed, taking a deep breath. “Do you feel better?” He asked and you nodded.

He smiled even more, if that was possible, and it made you chuckle. He caressed your calf softly, taking a bite out of the sandwich he made you and then handing it over to you again.

“Love you, pretty girl” he said, his mouth still full. You smiled and said “I love you too” You were quiet, almost as if you wanted to make sure only he would be able to hear it. He kissed your knee, smiling up at you with those beautiful baby blue eyes.

Taglist: @kandis-mom @mrsevans90

As of now l'm writing for

Eddie Munson

Lo’ak

Neteyam

Sebastian Stan

Bucky Barnes

CW!Bucky Barnes

Chris Evans

Steve Rogers

Ari Levinson

Geralt of Rivia

Henry Cavill

So just comment the taglist you want to be added to and l'll add you :)

[dreambunnynotes]

daily check-in: dec. 11th

hi lovely friends! i missed my check-in on sunday and i was going to skip monday's because i had the mentality that i could just 'start again tomorrow,' but better habits are built today, not later! i'm trying to find ways to encourage myself to be disciplined and this is one of the ways i'm showing up for myself. monday felt like a huge success in terms of discipline and hard work without pushing myself, and i feel really proud!

please note: in this post i celebrate my lack of rest on monday because i often default to rest without discipline, so personally this was a success in developing a healthier work/play balance, focused on the 'work' part of things. however, everyone is in their own journey with self improvement and i absolutely do not advocate for overworking oneself generally - i believe that a good work/play balance is essential, i am just personally working on the work side of things so that is why i am proud of my lack of rest today!

accomplishments:

i followed through on my work obligations even though i felt super tired and wanted to reschedule; i have so few work obligations these days and i need the money so it felt really good to not cancel even though i wanted to. i only had to cancel one appointment at the very end of the day because i was starting to feel sick (everyone i know is getting a cold or flu these days) but i pushed through earlier in the day for every other appointment and still listened to what my body needed at the end of the day, which feels like a huge success for someone who often cancels her obligations!

i found a new way to enjoy tasks that normally stress me out, which is to listen to a podcast my sister recommended while completing mindless tasks. it made the tasks fly by and made doing them actually fun!

i put in a few hours of work on a project that has a deadline, even though i wanted to spend time doing leisurely things. i feel really proud of myself for accomplishing what i did!

room for improvement:

this is less about today specifically and more about the past week, but i should have gotten started on the project that has a deadline much earlier; i need way more time than i thought i would, which is of course chalked up to time-blindness. i need to find a way to give myself earlier deadlines; last night i researched how to create a sense of urgency for adhd brains and i think i've figured out a way to do this for myself. so, despite my flub in starting the project late, i am proud of myself because i was the one who sought out a deadline for the project in the first place and it has helped me lots!

still need to get to bed earlier; typing this at 12:30am is no good 😭

hohkaaaaay, i am SLEEPY (edit: posting this during the day after i slept lol). i seriously need to get my sleep schedule figured out, but i'm taking one step at a time. i'm calling this day a success, being compassionate to myself for where i made mistakes, and looking forward to another beautiful day today! have a wonderful evening and take care of your lovely self 🥰

[slavghoul]

Full article from Metal Hammer 12/2022 that I posted an excerpt from in the previous post. BTW, Impera landed #1 on Metal Hammer’s list of best albums of 2022!

--

It was January 2022, and we found ourselves sitting in the empty lobby of a snug Seattle hotel, overlooking the sunset over Puget Sound while soft rock wafted through the PA system. Across from us was Ghost frontman and mastermind Tobias Forge, and we spent nearly two hours talking about music, family, dogs and the steady ascension of Ghost from spooky Swedish underground band to arena filling titans. But mostly we were there to talk about Impera – their fifth album, then still two months away from release.

In the run-up to an album coming out – particularly one with a highly acclaimed predecessor, like 2018’s Prequelle – artists tend to convey palpable anxiety as they prepare to relinquish control of their work to the world. Not so with Tobias, who radiated ease and comfort. Impera had not yet seen the light of day, but he had already moved on. Looking back at that period today, he explains, “As soon as I am done making a record, I’m pretty much fed up with it. I don’t want to hear it, I don’t want to know about it, I just want to forget about it. Once it hits the ears of people, depending on how it’s being received, that’s where you start from scratch again.”

Following Ghost’s North American tour with Volbeat and Twin Temple, Impera was released on March 11. It seamlessly blended pop-savvy songwriting with elaborate arrangements and steady torrents of anthemic pop metal riffage that created a wormhole back to the lighter-raising, arena-rock majesty of the 80s. From the glass-shattering scream that opened Kaisarion to the synth-rock squall of Watcher In The Sky, it delivered one guitar-powered banger after another.

It was enough to land Ghost their first No.1 position on Billboard’s Top Album Sales chart – their fourth Top 10 overall. Even bigger, in terms of vinyl and CD sales, Impera scored 2022’s biggest first-week sales for any album, of any genre. With more than 62,000 copies sold in the US alone, it easily bested The Weeknd’s February CD release of Dawn FM. In fact, Impera claimed the biggest first sales week for hard rock vinyl since Pearl Jam’s Vitalogy in 1994.

Critics united in swift and lusty praise. It might have felt heretical at the time, but many early reviews rated Impera as besting Prequelle on all fronts. Our very own Dave Everley wrote: ‘Impera wins on bolshiness, bravado and skyscraping songs alone. Ghost have turned in a modern metal classic with an arena rock heart. It turns out the Devil doesn’t have all the best tunes. Tobias Forge does.’ It’s safe to say any plans of “starting from scratch” were shoved to the back burner.

Ghost’s official Imperatour headlining run took them back across North America and then to Europe. Despite the lingering ravages of Covid across the live music industry, they thrived. “I am very happy that we managed to orchestrate a somewhat functioning but very successful album launch”, says Tobias. “We managed to nail 70 shows with just one cancellation. I think in this day and age in this year, that’s fucking great!”

Across the globe, stages were filling up with shows that had been booked many years prior. “We had to cut and paste a little with our touring schedule, because this past summer was basically filled with 2020’s line-ups,” says Tobias. “That made our scheduling a little… I wouldn’t say sparse, but we had breaks that were longer than normal. There are so many bands that are doing these weird dances. The last year of releasing an album into the void, with no touring and cancelling here and there and everywhere, and people having to rethink their lives, basically… We’ve been blessed not to have done too much of that.”

Logistics aside, somewhere along the line, that cultish little band from Sweden – the one with the creepy frontman singing about Satan and plagues and empires – went mainstream. Propelled by Impera’s momentum, the band tapped into new levels of cultural saturation thanks to appearances on mainstays such as Jimmy Kimmel Live.

“TV always brings you in front of new people”, says Tobias. “We did [The Late Show With Stephen] Colbert a few years ago, and every time you do something like that, you obviously expose yourself to a new scene of viewers. And that’s always great, unless you completely shit the bed on the air. Ha ha ha! I think we did do a few things this year that brought in a whole slew of new people into our fanbase.”

But ever the realist, he adds, “You might have a spike of people checking you out… but you don’t really notice if things like that had any effect. It’s not like the day after, all of your shows are now sold out and there’s a double night booked into every show you’re doing. It’s such a slow process that you don’t notice until a half year later when new fans come in and say, ‘I saw you on Kimmel’ or ‘I saw you with my dad.’ I wouldn’t say that being on Kimmel changed everything. It’s been slow, step-by-step, but it builds new branches onto the same tree and you keep growing higher.”

And higher they grew. In July, Mary On A Cross – originally released on the 2019 EP, Seven Inches Of Satanic Panic – was used in a Tiktok tribute to the show Stranger Things. The ripple effect was staggering. The song landed in the Top 10 of Spotify’s Viral 50 Global chart. As of this issue, the hashtag #Maryonacross has notched up well over one billion views. Ghost eventually released an official, slowed-down version of the song and the two versions combined now claim more than 180 million Spotify streams and counting. “For us, the Tiktok thing was or is just a giant bonus”, he explains. “That was never something that we planned.”

Surely the unplanned waves of publicity will ferry over legions of new fans, for whom an embarrassment of riches awaits. “One thing that I felt proud over, was the fact that we’ve been around for 12 years,” says Tobias. “We’ve made five records, a bunch of EPS, and I am glad that there seems to be a song that has a way to suck people in. And if they go into our world and like it, there is plenty to find. If you like Mary On A Cross, you can just jump on the train and go where we already are heading.”

It’s been an uncommonly good year for heavy music, but for Ghost it’s been more than a success – it’s been a coronation. Despite their demoniacal appearance and transgressive lyrical themes, they have negotiated the near-impossible task of attracting mainstream audiences while holding fast to the diehards in metal who have been there from the start. It creates the enviable problem of facing a new year with new pressures and heightened expectations. But Tobias has a plan.

“We’re doing a lot of touring again”, he explains. “On previous album cycles we’ve done four legs in America and two or three in Europe and repeated. We’re going to go into every territory next year, but there’s going to be one European tour, one American tour. We are going to do a little bit of everywhere. There’ll be a little bit of something up in upper Asia, on the far end there – a very well-established country with a lot of pop cultural fascination, and the home of videogames. And there’s going to be something in the Oceania world, and there might be something south of Panama, and there might be something slightly north of Panama. It feels pretty solid.”

He cryptically adds, “We’re going to come out with a little bit of change before that – good change. We’re not going to go silent. Some things are public, other things not in public view, but there are a lot of things brewing.”

We are journalistically bound to inquire about the next album and, unsurprisingly, Tobias remains mum. In January, he told us, “Everything I’m doing now is for the next record. I have a vague idea what that will be like and a vague idea of the title and the colour scheme.”

For now, that will have to do, but rest assured that as we all continue to enjoy the masterpiece that is Impera, Tobias is already hard at work, figuring out dramatic new ways to blow our minds. But he still allows himself the odd moment to stop and take it all in.

“To be able to make all of the shows that we’ve done, and to have a record that did fairly well, I think the sum of it is pretty fucking awesome,” he smiles. “I’m very thankful. It was a lot of hard work and a little bit of luck.”