#We could have played music on it we could have played anything

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Self-On Kode with Mark ⋆⭒˚.⋆

idol!Mark x f!idol!reader

summary: you and you boyfriend Mark are paired up for an interview, but do you even know you're texting each other? No.

(cw: f!reader, idol!reader)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Mark got comfortable in the plush, pink chair of the Kode set with a shy smile, "Ah hello, I'm Mark from NCT." He pushes his earbuds into his ears and begins playing his music, "today I'll be known as Cheetah. Um, I couldn't really think of anything else and the fans already call me a cheetah so it was easy to think of."

On the opposite side of the wall, you settle into your own chair while smiling at the camera while introducing yourself, "I was so confused when I was asked to pick a wild cat as my screen name. It was such an oddly specific category, and even weirder when you told me cheetah was already taken. Anyway, I chose Tiger because they're the next prettiest."

Your music begins to play through your earbuds as your phone vibrates from the first message from your partner. "Yo?" you read in confusion, staring at your screen with pure confusion, "is that it? This is a man isn't it? Girls don't talk like this."

On the other side of the wall Mark laughs softly, covering his mouth as he reads the message. "This person is so happy. I've never seen anyone write hi with this many i's."

You and Mark text back and forth for a while, sharing your hobbies and sending memes back and forth until the both of your are giggling madly on your respective sides of the set. Of course, after nearly 2 years together you'd know how to make each other laugh, even without knowing you're texting each other. Your partner still doesn't give you any identifying traits or hints as to who they are. Well, besides clearly being a man based on how he texts.

Following the instruction of the staff, you send a screenshot of your home screen. You pout, feeling slightly bad for your partner. Just two days ago you'd gotten a new phone and hadn't yet had the time to make it yours. It was stuck with the boring default background and a handful of apps you considered to be essential. You explain as much with the text accompanying the screenshot.

And Mark's screenshot? Well, it might as well be just as boring as yours. He has the blur set on the photo so all you see is an indistinct mess of colors. Two distinct blobs which could be the shape of two people or two flowers or two guitars or two cats.

"Wow," you say as you typed out the word, "we are two very boring people. You really don't want me to know who you are."

Mark laughs out brightly while he reads your text, "me? You haven't even changed your own yet!"

"I told you I just got a new phone and haven't had time yet!" You laugh to yourself while typing out your message.

Your joking back and forth gets the two of you off track while you playfully poke fun at each other back and forth until the staff ask you both who you think you're texting. Mark looks at the camera while he tries to think, "I have no clue. It's a girl, surely but it could be anyone. Do you pick random people off the street to do these videos?"

On the other side of the wall, you blush softly, covering your face while your face cools down, "is it weird if I say it's my boyfriend? He just seems so much like Mark."

It's one of the few times you've ever referred to Mark as your boyfriend for any sort media. You and Mark had technically been a public couple for about a year now, since your respective companies had come out with their statements to reveal your relationship. How you'd been able to conceal a year of your relationship was beyond the both of you. Well, a lot of dark, oversized clothes and hats and masks to conceal your faces.

After the company statements, you and Mark seemed to be even better at hiding. You barely glanced at each other at award shows, and if you did, it was only friendly, nothing that could be interpreted as anything else. There were very few glimpses into your relationship beyond birthday and anniversary posts with obscured faces and sharing each other's most recent comebacks on your stories. Privacy was something you both valued and of course you were more than ok with doing any type of promotion with Mark, it just never worked out that way. Until now (not that you knew). Plus, it wasn't like this interview would give anyone any important details of your relationship anyway.

When the staff prompt you both to share a screenshot of your most recently listened to songs, you stare at your screen with a look of blank surprise, "this is just a mix of Drake and Justin Bieber. It's Mark, it has to be."

You zoom in on the picture, mumbling about how you see more music that is so distinctly Mark while on the other side Mark looks at the screenshot you send excitedly. "She's a fan! Of me! Wow, she's listened to Child and Golden Hour and 200! Ok, I have to chill out a bit," he tells himself even as he types out his message telling you that you have good music taste.

You snort at his message just as the staff laugh at the exchange at the same time. The head producer instructs you both to find your baby pictures to send to the other.

You look up from your phone, looking at the camera and the staff, "surely, you'd think a couple who have been together for this long have seen pictures of each other when they were kids, right?" The staff nods in response before you speak again, "well, we haven't! I've only seen what has been posted online. Same for him!"

Mark sends you a picture of him as a baby where he's a few months old and you coo immediately. You zoom in as close as you can drawing your phone closer to you face as you star adoringly at the baby on your screen. "He's the cutest little thing I've ever seen! I've never seen a cuter baby in my life! Oh, I just want to squeeze his cheeks and cuddle him," you gush over the adorable picture of the chubby baby boy with an adoring look on your face.

Mark looks at his phone, the camera, the staff, his phone again, the camera again with a look of pure and utter confusion as he looks at what he can only assume is a child covered in frosting. "You can barely tell this is a human, how is this supposed to help me figure out who I've been texting?" Mark asks, zooming in on the picture while the staff bursts out in laughter. When he finds out who he's talking to...

So when he staff ask for a final guess as to who you've been texting you say Mark's name confidently while Mark ultimately utters out, "Maybe someone from a girl group... maybe it's Yeri."

When the staff ask you both to stand and get ready to face each other to reveal yourselves. Instead of walking toward Mark, you find yourself behind the set so you're behind Mark.

Mark walks forward slowly, waiting to see when he'll spot his interview partner, but when he sees an empty spot, he faces the camera and the staff with a quizzical smile, "was I talking to a ghost?"

They laugh softly and murmur amongst themselves while you finally reach forward and tap his shoulder softly. Mark jumps, completely scared by the touch. He turns to you with his eyes wide with surprise, "you?!"

"Yes, me!"

After you're both seated at the high top table and calmed down from the surprise meeting with on another, you're both ready to talk to each other in front of the camera once again. You smile softly at your boyfriend, "I knew it was you."

Mark scoffs, "how?"

"Yo," you repeat the word from his first message with a poor imitation of his voice, "all the Drake, all the Bieber-- oh my gosh, Mark! Your baby picture!"

Mark laughs, taking your hand in his out of view of the camera, "speaking of baby pictures, what did you send me?"

Your brows furrow softly at his question, "I sent you a picture of me as a baby."

"There's no way that was you. You look like a little cake monster."

"It was from my first birthday..." you pout at Mark.

"Don't get pouty with me, you were completely covered, how could I have known? I can pout too! My face used to be your homescreen and now it's the plain default screen," Mark tells you with a playful pointed look.

"Mark," you deadpan, "you were with me when I got my new phone."

"Oh yeah..." Mark blushes with embarrassment.

"Anyway, who did you think I was?"

Mark squeezes your hand nervously beneath the table, his thumb rubbing at your knuckles a little anxiously, "I had no clue, to be honest. I knew you were a girl but I didn't know it was you."

When the staff ask Mark how he didn't know but you did, all he can do is blush and laugh out a nervous response. You turn to him with a playful accusatory look of your own, "yeah, how come you didn't know?"

"I don't really pay attention to how you text, just what we text about..."

You and the staff coo as you pinch his cheeks and cup his face lovingly, "you're so cute, but you were cuter as a baby."

"My mom says the same thing," Mark rolls his eyes.

Your conversation winds down and you both pose for the selfie at the end. You both pull silly faces, cheeks pressed together and eyes scrunched shut with your tongues sticking out.

Despite the stupid picture you both took, the screen fades to black with a completely different picture of you and Mark laughing while looking at each other with hearts in your eyes and bright smiles on your faces.

[crows4luna]

571 words. mature, suggestive. heavy sexual tension. unedited. pop star!reader. reader is not mc. reader has a blood evol and actually has a backbone so they see through caleb's bullshit. reader is afab. reunion-ish with colonel caleb. caleb is horny for reader and fantasizes about them. is this toxic? it might be. | i was originally going to write this scene in compliance for my oc story but i saw it more as a universally open concept. thus, here we are. if anyone was curious on how i interpret a blood manipulation evol, it's a combination of katara from atla as well as marie and victoria from the boys/gen v. 𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀now playing: sports car - tate mcrae

A curt tilt of his head, and his eyes flick down then back up at you. The hardened glance softens just the slightest, looking at you with the slightest undercurrent of fondness. He speaks, as he lowers his cap, setting it aside on the table behind him, “You did great out there.”

You scoff, swiveling around in your chair before the vanity, crossing one leg over the other. It’s him, in the flesh, but Caleb was a stranger in every way possible. Sure, you grieved him at one point, but there were other things that heeded your attention. Problems that arose because greedy scientists and investors continued to get too bold.

“You look beautiful tonight,” the colonel continues to shower you in praise.

Your senses are sharp, despite your calm demeanor. You learned a lot from the N109 Zone, from dealing with seedier investors in the Nest before that.

His praise is genuine, and you don’t miss the way his eyes flutter up and down over your form. A dazzling silver two-piece outfit hugs your body, modest in its coverage but short enough to tease with the skin that’s bared. (And, of course, being able to dance in it.) Up to your knees were patent white boots, giving you a little more height when you stood.

Of course you were stunning.

“It’s very thoughtful of the Fleet to host a music festival of all things for Skyhaven’s people,” you shrug, lips curling into a soft smile. “I’m honored to have been invited as the headliner.”

It’s Caleb’s turn to display his amusement, chuckling briefly in a lowered tone, “I just thought about giving you a more reasonable excuse to come here.”

That one pinches a little.

You grimace, knowing that he sees through you. Knowing that being here is a more dire situation than being a dancing monkey as a temporary distraction. But even if that was the case, you could feel the unique pulse of his blood as he watched you from the shadows. The way you were a natural, captivating performer on that stage like it was home—it had him under your spell.

Caleb had to admit to himself, shamelessly, the way you made him feel has not wavered at all. Seeing you like that tonight reassured him of everything—and he knew he wouldn’t be able to go to bed tonight without fucking into his fist at the thought of you.

“Watch yourself, colonel. I—”

“I think it’s you who needs to be cautious,” he drawls, stepping towards you. He bends to the knee, violet eyes raking over the expanse of your thighs, your exposed abdomen. How badly he wants you—needs you—right now is unbearable. He’s getting hard again.

But those sinful thoughts disappear, when he realizes your own bold demeanor mirrors his own. You’re not tense at all, nor does he sense anything amiss in your form.

You’re unable to tear your gaze away from his.

A slight vibration thrums in the thickened air between you both. Caleb’s ears ring just the slightest, though he doesn’t falter or twitch.

Until he feels a thick trickle from his nostrils. The tips of his leather-gloved fingers press against the blood, and it doesn’t take long for him to figure you out. Between the minimal, dark red on his fingers and your unwavered focus, Caleb only smirks.

He’s going to enjoy this game between you two.

[eddiesvixen]

Jessie’s Girl

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳, 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁, 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝗮 𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗿, 𝘀𝗺𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 (𝗰𝗶𝗴𝘀)

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗻𝘁: 𝟰.𝟱𝗸

the third chapter of Open Til Midnight

June 23, 1979.

You and Eddie were at Skull Rock. Fourteen years young and laying back on a blanket, snacking and listening to Black Sabbath together. Eddie’s got his vest off, sewing a new patch onto it.

“Motörhead.”

“Yeah. Can you believe I got this at the fabric store. Kenny made it for me.” He smiles as he sews the patch on.

“Wish we could see them live. No way would they ever come here.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t even think they know Hawkins exists.”

You look over him. Eddie’s changed from a punk to thrash guy. His curls moving with every head shake to the music. “Your hair’s growing so long.”

“Yeah. Wayne says I’m starting to look more and more like my mom. Think he just wanted an excuse to say I look ridiculous again.”

You laugh. “You know he means well.”

“Yeah.. think he’s just tired of buying new shampoo. Not like he needed any hair cair.” He snorts.

“You tried another shampoo?” That’s the third one this month. Eddie just wants to make sure his mane smells good. He remembers in those interviews on Mtv that girls are attracted to rockstars and hire they smell, what they wear, what they play. With his new hairdo, new hellfire tees and promised gigs at the hideout on tuesdays, he was on the route to that dream.

“I did.” He smirks, proud of himself. “Go on give it a whiff.”

You lean in and his curls tickle your nose. You hum. “Blueberries?”

He nods. “And..”

“Something minty.” You raise a brow. “Peppermint?”

“Lemon mint.” He smiles. “What do you think?”

You giggle. “Think I have the same one.”

His eyes widen. “You’re joking right?”

“Wish I were. You’re swooning ladies with their own shampoo, Eddie.” You giggle and he shakes his head.

“Blasphemy. The bottle was in the men’s section.”

“Yeah but did you read the bottle? Did it say mens?”

“I just smelled it and put it in the cart.” He smiles at your laughter, now laughing at himself. “Damn. I can’t win can I?”

“Well you’re still new to having hair this long. And you’ve got all summer to rebirth yourself.”

“Damn straight, princess. And we’re gonna go through high school like nothing. Me and the boys can rehearse and have some real campaigns now that we’ve got the club. And since we’ve got gigs at the Hideout maybe we’ll finally be seen. Gonna focus on getting signed. Getting out of here.”

You love when Eddie gets like this. Talking about his dreams for Corroded Coffin. For his band.

“Leaving me so soon?” You nudge his foot with yours and he returns the gesture.

“I’m offended.” He clutches his chest yet again. “You think i’d let you stay here? No. Screw that, you’d be with us all the time.”

You can’t help but smile. “You are the sappiest metalhead I know. Nerdiest too.”

“Nerds have more fun.“ He winks at you. “And if im a sap so be it. You’re my best friend and you’re always here for me. We’re a package deal, sweetheart, no matter what.”

You grin. “No matter what.”

Best friends. A package deal. You and Eddie were and still are, inseparable. You swore that you’d always be there for each other no matter what, which is why Eddie’s disturbed today. He can’t stop thinking about how weird you were, how avoidant you behaved before leaving his apartment yesterday. He knew something was wrong but he didn’t want to pry. Not when there’s bigger things to focus on.

As you organize the cds, you try to focus on literally anything to get your mind off of Eddie. The ding of the door when a customer walks in, the sound of the Talking Heads from the store speakers, the annoying baby crying in his mother’s arms from the Fleetwood Mac section.

All you see is Eddie. His hair, his body, his face in those pictures. His lips so pink and arms so toned. Maybe he has been working out. Those jeans made his thighs looks so good, that slim waist.. you inly imagined how good his ass looked in them. And seeing him naked like that. His scarce happy trail leading down to his-

“Found it. Thought this broke ages ago but I can take it to Argyle’s buddy, see if he can check it out.” Jonathan says as he holds a half damaged amp from the break room.

“Looks good enough to sell. Did you check for any plugs?”

“No but im taking Robin and Steve to three different pawn shops so if we get a good deal just call.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you after.”

You head to the register to take up for Robin while she leaves. Selling the old amps and guitars, different things you don’t use anymore from the storage space next to the store. It’s an easy way to add cash to your current savings. You just hope it’s enough.

~~~~

Your shift is going nice. It’s an easy one. Monday’s usually are. Inventory is done, customers come and go and you enjoy your spot at the register, talking with different customers and introducing them to new music.

Chrissy walks up to the counter. “Hey, i’m taking lunch so Eddie’s gonna cover for me up here.”

Eddie. Just great. You hadn’t spoken to him since yesterday after seeing those pictures.

“Okay.”

She smirks and looks in the rock section. You think Eddie’s standing there but no, it’s someone else but still, someone familiar.

“That cute blonde guy’s back again.” She smiles and looks at you.

“He always comes on mondays.” You nod and shrug, not thinking much of him.

“I know. He flirts with you every monday.” She grins, with a suggestive look in her eyes.”

“Is it flirting if I don’t reciprocate?.”

“Yes.” She smiles. “Come on, you haven’t had a date since when?”

Since last October. You found him hooking up with some other girl, she looked nothing like you. And you honestly didn’t know if that hurt you more or relieved you.

“Give it a rest, chris. He’s a customer and I am not interested in some random guy-“

“Could I get one of those Springsteen pins?” He smiles, vinyls in hand and a cute grin on his face.

He’s got the cutest nose and blue eyes so captivating, the ocean would be jealous. Maybe it is. His beachy waves of blonde hang over his forehead a bit.

You grab the pin and grin as he sets his yinyls on the counter. Bruce Springsteen, Bon Jovi, Madonna, Aerosmith. Of course he gets Aerosmith, he always does.

“Madonna?” You raise your brow.

“It’s for my sister.” He’s quick to respond. “But I do love a good material girl.”

“Can’t argue with that.” You smile, ignoring how Chrissy’s been glancing at the both of you from the record player behind the counter.

“That’s a nice ring you got there.” He nods at the silver ring on your left middle finger, a dark onyx gem in the center.

“Thanks, was a gift.”

You remember turning 20, and the big party you all threw here in this very store. Steve walked you out for a surprise lunch and when you came back, everyone had party hats and hung streamers. The store closed earlier that day as you all shared cake and drinks.

Everyone gave you their gifts at the party but Eddie waited to drive you home to give you his gift. The ring looked so expensive and he explained he saved up for it for months. When he slid it onto your finger it just made since, it was perfect. And you looked into each other’s eyes. You still remember what he told you that night in the van. His voice.

“Excuse me.”

His voice.

“Shit.. sorry.”

You move to the side to let him reach under the counter. Sharpie. More vinyls to be shipped out. Chrissy steps back to let Eddie key into the register since he’s next to check out customers here.

You bag up the customer’s cds and he hands you his cash.

“Will this be all?” You ask the blonde guy.

“Yeah,” he nods and takes the bag and his change from you. “Actually um, I just wanted to ask if you were busy. Tomorrow.”

Chrissy looks at Eddie. Eddie looks at your foot. Your boot tapping against the rug. Nerves. And he feels them too.

“Um.. well, I have to work, so..”

“What time do you get off?”

“Seven.” You nod.

“How about I pick you up? Take you for dinner?” He smiles.

Suddenly Eddie hates the color blue, seeing how the guy’s eyes light up when you say..

“Sure.”

He smiles. “Well great. I will.. i’ll see you then,” he looks at your nametag then saying your name.

“I’ll see you then..”

He smiles. “Jessie.”

You grin. “Bye Jessie.”

He leaves and goes out the door. Chrissy decides to leave to avoid the awkward conversation she knows is about to take place. You focus on your register as the space behind the counter feels smaller. You’ve told yourself too many times that Eddie is just your best friend and he definitely doesn’t see you like that. If he did, he would’ve made a move, and he hasn’t made a move. You needed something. Anything, to get your mind off of the pictures of Eddie that you saw. If it was a date with Jessie then so be it.

After some silence you Eddie speaks up, his voice a bit relaxed. Too relaxed.

“Dating the Aerosmith guy?”

“I guess dinner would be nice.” You look at him and he hasn’t looked up from the clipboard as he writes down the packages he’s signed and boxed up.

“He pulled the push door again on his way out.” The corner of his mouth lifts a bit as that familiar smug smirk starts to form.

You grin. “What are you keeping tabs on him?”

He huffs out a small laugh and shakes his head, his messy curls falling with each movement. He whips his hair back to look at you this time.

“Maybe I should if he’s taking my best friend on a date.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms. "Since when do you get all possessive?"

He leans against the counter, the smirk growing as he shrugs. "Since Aerosmith wannabes started sniffing around you."

You roll your eyes but the warmth rising in your cheeks betrays you. "It's just dinner, Eddie. And it's not like I need your approval."

He places a hand over his heart. "Approval? Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart. But a warning? Absolutely."

You raise a brow, trying to read him. It’s a bit impossible to right now. "And what exactly are you warning me about?"

He taps the clipboard against the counter, thinking for a second before locking eyes with you. "Those guys always have an angle. Dinner leads to dessert, dessert leads to backstage passes and before you know it, you're a line in one of their breakup ballads."

You can’t help but to laugh. “Are you telling me Corroded Coffin has lines about girls in their ballads?”

He chuckles. “Did you see any girls lined up to talk to us?”

“Well, not really.” You bite your lip. “You really think Jessie’s like that?”

Hearing you say his name scars Eddie but he’s playing it cool. “Don’t know. Just looking out for you, someone has to.”

You meet his gaze with a playful challenge in your eyes. "And what if I don't need looking out for? What if I like the idea of being a song lyric?"

He leans in closer, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Then you're more reckless than I thought."

You swallow at the closeness and for a moment, the air between you changes. Charged and heavy like the static before a storm. His smirk falters for just a second, replaced by something softer, something... real. Something innocent. Those soft boyish features that hide how rowdy and chaotic he is.

A customer walks up to his register. He looks over your face and speaks lowly for only your ears. “Just be careful.”

He stands straight and greets the woman, ringing up her tapes and you swallow and stand in front of your register.

~~~~~

Tuesday. Four days until the first.

Steve managed to get a decent six hundred for a box of some of his old sneakers. Jonathan and Robin made four hundred and thirty seven dollars for the amps and an old acoustic guitar. You added the cash together from Hopper’s pile and the college dealings you and Eddie did on Sunday.

You sit in the break room, counting the cash as you hear a curse from the restroom.

You call out. “Are you okay?”

“Uh.. all good , sweetheart.”

The door’s cracked open so you take a break and walk over, walking in after he tells you to. You gasp, seeing he has scissors in his hand, his thumb bleeding as he sucks his wounded finger.

“What the hell are you doing?!��� You quickly grab the scissors.

“Just a trim.” Eddie winces and reaches for the first aid kit.

You take out the bandages and shake your head. “To your bangs? You’ve actually lost your mind.”

He flips on the sink and washes his hands. Drying them and taking the bandaid from you. “Thanks mom, but I think i’ve got it.”

Your brows furrow. “But you always let me trim your hair.”

He shrugs and looks away. “Didn’t think you wanted to.”

You couldn’t blame him for how he felt. You just pull him to sit on the lid of the toilet seat and take out the scissors. He gives a small nod of surrender, letting you do as you please. You stand between his legs and get to trimming.

You speak softer. “I’m sorry I haven’t been more communicative.”

“You don’t need to apologize, princess. Just.. worried I made you upset or something.”

You raise a brow. “Why would I be upset?”

He looks up at you. “The party.”

Your eyes widen a bit. The college party? “What do you mean?”

He fiddles with the rips in his jeans a bit. “You really dont remember?”

He’s hesitant and that worries you a bit. “Eddie what happened?”

He speaks in a tone so low as if to save you embarrassment from each other. “You know, when you tried to kiss me.”

What?

“What?”

“When you had that smirnoff and we sold the last bag of K, you like.. grabbed my face and pulled me down.” He looks away.

“Oh I.. I didn’t know-“

“It’s okay. I know you were pretty drunk you had like ten of those things.” He sighs. “I guess I just.. when you tried to kiss me I kinda grabbed your hands and told you to stop. I thought you might’ve been pissed at me and left in a hurry on Sunday.”

You can’t believe yourself right now. Wanting to kiss Eddie? Hell yes. But making him feel like your behavior was his fault and not due to your own discovery? Not in a million years.

“No. Eddie I, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get handsy or weird. It’s just.. so much going on. I feel like shit.”

He looks up at you. “I don’t mind at all. I get you wanted to get drunk and forget about your worries for a bit. I just can’t stand the way things are right now.” You watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “I miss you.”

You look back into his eyes. “I miss you too, Eddie.”

He sighs and stands up, pulling you into a hug in which you happily and quickly return. It feels good being this close to him. His hair tickling your skin, the warmth of his body, his scent. That scent.

He raises a brow when he feels your body tremble from holding in a laugh. “What?”

You laugh. “Blueberries and lemon mint!”

He laughs along with you. “Damn, I feel exposed princess. You’re being a bad friend.”

“You still use that same shampoo?”

“Hey it hasn’t failed me in the ten years that i’ve been using it and I plan on keeping it that way.” He points a finger at you so you point one back.

You grin, leaning closer as your finger playfully taps his. "Ten years, huh? That's commitment. You might be more loyal to that shampoo than anything else in your life."

He chuckles, dropping his hand but not stepping away from you. "Maybe. But hey if it smells good and works why change it?"

You tilt your head, your smile softening as you study him. “Fair enough.” You sit the scissors down as he rakes his fingers through his hair.

“You look really nice today.” He says a bit sheepishly.

You do. After all, you had a date tonight. You wanted to make an impression. Since you and Jessie agreed on a casual night out you wore a brand new pair of light wash jeans, the bootcut ones that show off your curves in the best way. Your pretty white notched Twisted Sister tee and your hair beautifully worn to your liking.

“Thanks. I mean, I didn’t wanna scare him away on the first date with a shit ton of eyeliner or some demonia’s.”

“If that scares any guy away then he’s blind.”

You smile, cheeks tinged with heat. “Thanks, Eddie.”

“Promise me if things get weird you’ll call me.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” He gives a small grin. “I would hate to show blondie the beast.”

“The beast?” You laugh. “Eddie, have you ever actually won a fight?”

He gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. "I'll have you know I almost won plenty of fights, thank you very much."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Almost doesn't count, Eddie."

He narrows his eyes playfully, leaning against the counter. "Alright princess, remind me never to count on you for moral support.” He straightens up a bit. “But seriously. If he does anything sketchy, call me. I'll be there in ten minutes. Fifteen if traffic sucks but i’ll be there.”

“Thanks, Eddie.” You grin.

He shrugs, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a half smile. "Anytime. Just don't forget about us regular folk when blondie sweeps you off your feet."

You roll your eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. No one's sweeping me anywhere.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

You lock eyes for a second. A warmth there that had been missing for a few days. So you almsot drunk kissed him and saw his pics, big whoop. If Eddie could move on from the avoidance so can you. The sweet moment is interrupted when Robin speaks over the intercom.

“Dingus needed at the register, the doors are now open.”

You both laugh.

“Duty calls,” he says, pushing off the counter and backing up to the door. "And remember, if he so much as looks at you wrong-"

"I know, I know," you interrupt with a laugh. "The beast will be unleashed."

"Damn right," he says, flashing you a grin before the door shuts behind him.

~~~~~

It was a nice day. No rude customers, your friendships were all good, and when you finished counting up the money you were closing in on having over five thousand. It’s only half, but it’s more than you started with before. But you promised yourself to focus on one thing tonight.

Jessie.

He’d taken you to a small bar with live music and then you grabbed dinner at the diner. You two got along well, talking rock music and careers. He was nice, a gentleman. He seemed pretty perfect. Too perfect. You two sit in the booth as you wait for dessert.

“I wanted to ask you something.” He sits up.

“Okay.”

He hesitates, not sure how to begin. But he does it anyways. “I come to the store a lot and well.. you dress differently a lot. I thought you were like some kind of goth or something.”

You smile. “Well I like goth music too but metal’s got my heart through and through.”

“Right but uh,” he shifts a bit in his seat and shrugs. “I mean you’re still normal to me, you know? Not like the rest of that crowd.”

You wait for the waitress to walk away after bringing your desserts. Jessie got cheesecake and you went for a milkshake per usual. Once she walks away you speak up.

“Rest of the crowd, huh?”

“Yeah. Like this really weird girl at my campus, she paints her face white and wears a bunch of pentagrams.” He hums and snaps. “And that one guy at Empire, with the messy hair? He’s got like some weird tattoos. I think one’s the devil-“

“It’s a horned demon from a board game.” You say softly, trying not to show how offended you feel.

“Yeah but, I don’t know. Just saying you’re not like them. At all.”

You stir your milkshake with the straw, forcing a tight smile as your stomach twists uncomfortably. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jessie leans back in his side of the booth, completely oblivious to your growing irritation. "I mean you're normal. You know, you don't go overboard with all that creepy goth stuff. You've got style, but you're not like... a freak." He laughs like he's made some kind of joke, but the sound grates against your nerves.

Freaks. What they called you and your friends in school. Years later and now on this date it all feels the same. So infuriating.

You put your milkshake down, suddenly finding it hard to look at him. "You know, some of us freaks actually like that 'creepy goth stuff," you say, trying to keep your tone light, though the edge in your voice betrays you.

Jessie raises an eyebrow. "Oh, come on. You know I didn't mean you. You're cool. But those people? They're just... weird. It's not normal."

You sit back on your end this time and cross your arms. “Define normal, Jessie. Because I'm pretty sure painting your face and having tattoos doesn't make someone less of a person."

He looks genuinely baffled, like he has no idea why you're upset. "I don't know, it's just... people like that are trying too hard, you know? Like they want attention or something. But not you, you're different."

"Sure," you say, your voice colder now. "I'm different because I tone it down for people like you, right?"

Jessie stares at you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "What? No! I just meant you're not... extreme like them."

You sigh and rub your temple. “Jessie I.. I should go.”

His brows furrow. “What?”

“Those freaks are my friends. The people I love and consider family. And i’m not gonna sit here and let you badmouth us because you can’t accept that not everyone is a conventional as little perfect Jessie.”

You slap a ten on the table for your meal and stand, walking away before he could say anything else. Assholes like Jessie and Larry get away with everything and you’ve had enough. You just wanted comfort. Someone who got you, someone who would never judge you, never disappoint you.

You think of the one person who’s always been there. Inserting a coin into the phone booth you call him.

~~~~~

“What a dick.” Eddie says, puffing out a cloud of smoke from his cigarette as he drives you in his van.

“It’s okay. Just.. glad that’s over.”

Eddie smirks. He figures you could use a laugh. “You know.. when he picked you up, we were being nice but the second he pulled of Robin thought it was a good idea to play Jessie’s Girl on the speakers.”

You laugh. “Oh i’m gonna kill her.”

“Kill Steve, he was really into it.” He chuckles and starts to dance. “He hit us with this move.” He wiggles his hips in his seat and shakes his shoulders.

You laugh. “You know what, you guys are so not funny.”

He smiles. “Sorry, princess. Can’t help but to tease you for going on a date with that goofball.”

"Yeah, yeah," you reply, rolling your eyes but unable to hide your grin. "You're all comedians. Real original."

Eddie chuckles again, flicking the ash from his cigarette out the window. "I mean come on princess, you can do better."

You lean back in your seat, crossing your arms "Oh, and who exactly should I be going out with? Got any suggestions, Munson?"

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, his smirk faltering just for a moment before returning full force. "I don't know, maybe someone who won't make Robin crank up Rick Springfield to cope."

You laugh again, shaking your head. "That's a pretty low bar."

"Exactly," he says, flashing you a cheeky grin.

"You deserve a guy who actually likes what you like. Someone cool. Someone, dare I say… metal." He emphasizes the word with a dramatic air guitar move, almost swerving the van in the process.

"Jesus, Eddie! Watch the road!" you yell, clutching the door for support.

He laughs, straightening the wheel. "Relax, princess. I got it under control. Besides, you're safe with me."

You give him a skeptical look, but his words linger in the air longer than you expected. Safe. Judgement free, laughing, smiling, safe with Eddie. There's something about the way he says it so casually but full of weight that makes your stomach flutter.

You clear your throat, looking out the window to avoid his gaze. "Well, maybe next time you can pick my date. Since you're such an expert on who I should be with."

He grins but doesn't respond right away. Instead, he takes another drag of his cigarette, the soft glow of it illuminating his face from the night sky. "Maybe I will," he says finally, his tone teasing but with a silent edge you can't quite place.

You glance at him and raise a brow. "I'm not sure if I should be terrified or intrigued."

Eddie smirks, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music playing softly from the radio. "A little bit of both, princess. Keeps things interesting."

You shake your head, fighting the smile creeping onto your lips. "You're impossible."

"I prefer the term eccentric," he shoots back, flashing you another grin.

You smile, enjoying the ride and the music and Eddie. It’s how things have always been. How things should always be. Forget the shitty date and the corporate assholes that have been ruining your month. This moment here with Eddie is all you need to keep going.

taglist: @pupwrites @sheneedsrocknroll92 @koshkahhh @kthomps914

[jollyhunter]

♡Dean Birthday Prompt-Game♡

Before we dive into the prompt game... Please, take a short 20 minutes break and just sit down in the backseat of Baby. Imagine, it. It's Dean's birthday and it's just you, Dean and Sam. On the road. You sleeping in the backseats, the rain's soothing pitter-patter, Dean's music playing in the background, Baby purring under your feet.

Put those headphones in, close your eyes and just... feel it. ♡

... And when Dean wakes you to sing, I want you to sing. (I'm serious)

. . .

Now that you are settled in, here's the prompt along the video:

It's just the same damn day like any other, right?

Today Dean turns 31. Finally a good reason to celebrate.

Or so you had it planned out in your head. But, of course you three just had to take up a 2 weeks hunt at the arse-end of the world. And now you're stuck on a 3-days drive back home, doomed to yet again spend this special day, like any other.

On the road. With the sky pissing down on you with no end in sight (Dean's words). Folded into the backseat between instant coffee and greasy takeaway burgers (Sam's words). Cooped up in some weird banana themed motel room with little to no privacy (...your words). Not that any of this would have bothered you any other day. But for you, today wasn't any other day. And for once - just for once - you actually hoped you'd get something... different. Something special.

It was Dean's birthday after all. And that by itself was a miracle, seeing as he'd been in Hell not too long ago.

And although he was physically back, you could sense that parts of him were still downstairs. Still trapped in a never ending nightmare you knew nothing about, because he just. won't. talk.

You just wanted to see Dean smile again. Feel his hearty laughter fill your chest like a hot cocoa that makes your heart flutter and your cheeks burn up. Watch those green pools twinkle with genuine joy as they get nudged up by that Cheshire smile.

But as of right now, things looked anything but.

Worst of all? Dean didn't even seem to mind. It's like he didn't even acknowledge the fact that he was turning a year older today.

The lights of an occasional passer-by vehicle flashes by your shut eyes and then fades back into the darkness. The interior of Baby is dimly lit and only the soft glow of the street lights from passing towns and the dashboard illumination light the silhouette of the two brothers in the front seats.

Dean's sipping lazily from his coffee mug while driving, his fingers on the steering wheel idly tapping along the beats of the song of Zep's Ramble On that's competing against the rhythmic drumming of the droplets on the roof. Meanwhile the sound of rustling newspapers comes from the passenger seat.

Sam sighs, occasionally adding to the oddly comfortable atmosphere with his pen jotting down notes and shuffling through papers.

When Dean spots a motel sign, he quickly pulls the car over and parks it right in front of the main entrance. Green eyes dart up at the rear view mirror, checking on your sleeping form in the backseat before he turns to head out, his voice a low mutter to not wake you. „I‘ll check it out.“

Minutes later, the door opens and Dean climbs back in, letting out a deep sigh before quickly shutting it closed again behind him and shaking off some of the wetness from his jacket and hair. Sam's still engrossed in his research, barely looking up when his brother starts up the car again and grunts, “The place is full.”

“Damn it.” Sam mutters, putting down the notebook he was writing in, “Not even a single other motel for miles. Guess that means we’re stuck in the car for the night.”

"All three of us? That's gonna be cramped as hell." Dean mutters in annoyance while the wheels screech in protest from being manoeuvred back to the road.

Dean briefly turns back to face you still being fast asleep in the backseat and his face instantly softens. His lips curl into a soft smile when he reaches over the bench's backrest to pat your knee, "Hey, sleepyhead, wake up. Looks like we need to huddle up for the night."

HERE'S THE IDEA: Continue the story yourself; how would you try to save Dean's birthday? How would you make the best of it? What's your theme? Mostly fluff? Spontaneous birthday-hunt? Or will you dive into the angst? Or get Sam somehow out of the car so you can get a little frisky with Dean? You get the point. Go crazy.

Reblog and add yours, or post your own and tag me!

The prompt is set right after the end of the video. But you may of course jump into the story wherever you want. Have fun sweethearts!

A/N: Not to sound dramatic but creating this ambience / intro sound video, or whatever I shall call it, cost me an arm and a leg. And at some point I had to sell my soul to Crowley to get it done. Additionally, I wanted fitting dividers as well so I did those too, lol I went full in for our boy's birthday. And I wanted to do something fun for everyone!

So please, consider commenting and reblogging if you liked it ♡

Dean Tags:

@aylacavebear @jc-winchester

[maxispixels]

HANPICKED

PART THREE.

Hobie Brown x GN!Reader

1.8k words

You work at a flower shop in late 70s London and Hobie's being a menace. Slowburn? Probably will be around 10 parts. Strangers to reluctant acquaintances to friends to something more. Maybe a lil' messy?

CW: mention of a funeral

Part one. Part two.

Your weekend had been busy with all the chores you let pile up during the last few weeks, and you were almost relieved to go back to the flower shop, and only have to sit on a stool for a few hours. Maybe make some commands and other stuff but hey, at least you were paid for it.

The green storefront greeted you cheerfully, and you turned the closed sign into an open one. The bell rang to welcome you, and you made your way to the old radio post in the corner of the shop. It still worked better than yours, despite its age, and the worrying amount of dust you didn’t dare to touch.

You quickly managed to get to BBC Radio 3, playing some classical music at that time of the morning. It made you feel like you were in a fairytale, tending to your flowers. Definitely made your job a lot nicer than it already was.

And just like that, you started to work, starting with cleaning the front window. 

Then it started to rain. You cursed the sky, ruining your hard work. You went back inside and started to water the potted plants, before changing the water of the ones in vases. 

The first customer of the day passed the door while you were in the middle of pouring water. “Good morning,” you welcomed with a singsong voice, still turning your back to the door. “One second and I’m yours.”

“Oi that’s interestin'.” A deep voice you’ve learnt to recognize resonated over the orchestral going on in the background. You almost spilled your water.

“You again?” You turned to face him. He had a small umbrella this time, but it didn’t protect him well from the rain. He put it in a corner carelessly. 

“Happy to see ya too.” He tilted his head. “Wot are ya doing there watering the flowers? They’re dead.”

“They’re cut flowers. They’re in their prime.”

“Prime? They’re on life support, yeah.”

You sighed. “What do you want?”

“No more how can I help you?” he imitated your tone, and you cringed. “An’ wot’s up with the music? Anything better than this? Are ya tryin’ to lure yer customers to sleep or som’thin?”

You rubbed your forehead. “You’re so annoying.”

“Don’t be mean, I came ‘ere with a gift.” He cooed. 

You raised an eyebrow, expecting the worst. “What for? We still don’t accept bartering.”

“I said a gift. I’m not tryna get anythin’ from ya.” He pulled out a couple of yellow flowers from his sleeve.

“Oh, lovely. Wildflowers. Did you pull those out of someone’s garden?”

“From a rich bloke’s ledge, if that makes ya feel better.” You rolled your eyes. “Picked these myself. Your daffodils are too posh. Thought you could use a change, somethin’ wild.”

You looked at his outstretched hand, holding the small, damp golden flowers. Buttercups, you thought. They were small, and reminded you of a kid picking flowers for their mother. It made you feel a little nostalgic.

Your hands gently grabbed them from his, careful not to brush his fingers. You still felt how cold his hands were, from being outside in the rain. 

“Don’t work your little brain too hard. M’just payin’ back for the daffodils the other day.”

You nodded. That was… Nice. “They’re… fine, I guess.” You said a little too quickly before placing the buttercup in a small water cup on the counter. Maybe you’ll sketch them later. You already had a couple of drawings for each plant from this shop, but you didn’t have a sketch of buttercups. 

You leaned back against the counter and eyed him as his gaze followed the shelf of flowers. “Why d’you needed the daffodils for anyyouway?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

His eyes went back to you, from the other side of the shop. “I might tell ya if  ya let me change the radio.” 

Your eyebrows knitted together. “...Fine?” 

It took him more than ten minutes to find what he wanted, and your patience was running low. “Careful with the antenna—”  scolded as he tugged it at an alarming angle. “I know what I’m doin’!” He insisted. You groaned, your face buried in both your hands.

The statics and random bits of voices slowly let place to something else. Distorted and muffled noises broke through the radio, followed by loud drumming and rugged vocals. He gave you a satisfied grin. “There it is.” You grimaced. The shop felt less like a peaceful garden and more like a dingy London club for a moment.

“What is that?”

“The best pirate radio in all of London. Proper punk, none of that watered down crap they put on the BBC.”

You frowned. “Pirate radio?” You mumbled. “Isn’t that… Illegal?”

He grinned at you like you said something adorable. “Course it is. That’s the point.”

You shifted on your legs, glancing nervously at the door. You quickly turned down the volume.

“No fun,” he pouted.

“Are you gonna talk now?”

“What was your question already?”

“Are you serious?”

“About what?”

There was no way he wasn’t being dumb on purpose, testing the limit of what patience you had left. “Why’d you nick the flowers?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “Why’d ya care? I just paid you back anyway.”

“I don’t. But I’m curious—it’s so weird to steal flowers. Especially since you just showed me that you were more than able to pick wild ones. Why get in trouble? For daffodils?”

“Well... it was for... an... important thing?” He mumbled, looking up at the ceiling, then letting his gaze trail down to some carnations.

You raised an eyebrow. “An important thing?” You couldn’t help but smirk as you saw the tall, punk, scary, grown man avoid your eyes like a kid. “What important thing? A girl?” You covered your mouth, feigning shock. “A boy?”

He gave you a look. His brown eyes fell back on you, and you swore they softened for a moment. You found yourself stumbling to hold his gaze. It made you weak in the knees, and you couldn’t figure out why.

“Does it matter?”

You shrugged. “I’m not judging.” You tilted your head, grinning. “Come on, tell me—you owe me an explanation, ay? For all the trouble you caused.”

He gave you a half-smile—was it shy or sad? You couldn’t tell. It threw you off balance. “Or don’t. You don’t have to.” You corrected yourself.

“No big deal. T’was just for a funeral.” He shrugged again, his tone casual, but it didn’t match the weight of his words.

Oh. The realization hit you like a slap. “Oh... I’m sorry. I... I didn’t know.” You muttered, your words suddenly too quiet.

“Don’t make that face.” He seemed to be the one teasing you now.

You blinked, not even realizing the puppy eyes you were giving him. Sad and guilty, like a kicked dog. God, you felt like such an idiot. You’d been nothing but rude to him up until now. Stupid, really. The whole situation was so absurd—here you were, feeling bad for a punk, in a flower shop, with a crazy bassline blasting in the background.

“No, I’m really sorry, I was awful. Fuck, can I do something for you?” You mumbled sheepishly, feeling a little off-balance.

“Mpf, don’t get all like that.” He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the shift in the dynamic. “I liked it better when you were all feisty. Or all nosy about my love life.” He smirked at you, and the cheeky look on his face made you want to wipe it off. 

You just let yourself fall back onto the stool, letting out a sigh of exhaustion. The shrill sound of police sirens suddenly blared through the air, startling you. You quickly realized it was coming from the radio, and your eyes flicked to the man, who was grinning at you, clearly amused by your reaction.

The static on the radio cracked as another song kicked in, something about police oppression, though the quality of the recording and the poor reception made the lyrics nearly impossible to understand.

“See, they don’t put this on the BBC.” Hemused, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “This, this is fockin’ brillant.” 

You’re persuaded he’s distracting you again from the matter at hand. You let him. 

“They still put out some stuff on the BBC, though.” You argued. “The other day, I was trying to relax and there was some punk crap that started playing. Almost broke the old radio.” You were careful to not tell him you actually, kind of, a little enjoyed it.

“Breaking your shit is punker than anything you could’ve played on it.” He retorted.

“So you don’t like anything that plays on the common channel?” You tilted your head—you wondered if he would’ve liked the song that came up the other time. To you, it didn’t sound so different from what he was playing now. 

He rolled his eyes. “Yes I do, I’m not saying it’s bad, just it’s watered down. They never put extreme stuff. Or unknown stuff, you get me?”

You didn’t. You let him talk and geek out about punk music for a while, occasionally asking questions to keep him entertained and not at all to keep hearing his smooth deep voice. 

You zoned out, watching his lips move, his piercings catching the light of the shop. You had the time to count all of them. Eight. A ring in his left ear, three along his right ear, a horizontal piercing at each eyebrow, another ring at his right nostril, and one to the left of his bottom right lip. The cool metal contrasted beautifully with his dark skin. The lines of his face were deep and you found yourself wanting to reach for them. There was just something so sculpted, so intriguing about his bone structure. You just wanted to sketch him. 

“And that’s why community organizing is so important.” he finished.

You blinked, scrambling for something to say that wouldn’t give you away. “That’s... cool?”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “Do you have a scooby what I was talking about?”

The way you looked at him was enough of an answer. He chuckled and shook his head. “Got it. I have to go anyway. You know, protests to attend, stuff. Capitalism ain’t gonna stop itself.”

“Wait—what’s your name?” you called as he turned on his heels.

He paused in the doorway, his hand on the frame. It hit you both at once that you’d never exchanged names. He grinned, the kind of grin that made your stomach do a little flip. “Might tell you if I come back.” 

With a wave, he grabbed his small umbrella, before he stepped out into the rain, leaving you alone with nothing but the punk music crackling on the radio for company.

[ploppythespaceship]

So to absolutely no one's surprise, the new Section 31 movie is quite bad. Critics are tearing it to pieces, and rightfully so. As IGN said, "Section 31 will infuriate Star Trek fans and bore everyone else." And... yeah, that's about right. I don't know if it's the worst Trek movie ever made, but it's certainly in one of the bottom slots.

This post has no major spoilers, but I am putting it under a cut because it turned into a long rant.

The core problem here is the cast. It's an ensemble piece consisting of characters ranging from mildly boring to actively irritating. There's no depth or interesting dynamics at play here. Just a bunch of characters trying to be zany and edgy.

Which brings me to the next issue -- the tone. Basically, this movie wants to be James Gunn's Suicide Squad, but it doesn't understand the careful balance needed to pull that off. It wants to be the edgy, gritty Star Trek movie where people get to murder and be bad, while also having wacky side characters that get to joke around. The result is that half the cast feels like it's in a gritty drama, and the other half feels like it's in a bad comedy.

To emphasize how bad this issue is -- the very last line of the movie is a yo mama joke. No, I am not kidding.

The pacing is pretty bad. You can tell that this was conceived as a miniseries before being cut down to a 90 minute film. The whole thing feels choppy and uneven. They spend too long in some sections and then not long enough in others. At one point halfway through, I literally said out loud, "Oh that's where episode one would have ended," because you could practically feel the entire film switch gears.

We also don't see enough of Georgiou and San's relationship, which the climax sort of hinges on. All we get are flashbacks of them pressing foreheads together in a backlit room, saying that they're one.

This either needed to be stretched back out to a full miniseries -- which probably still would have been pretty bad -- or it needed to be drastically reworked to better suit its runtime.

The style is also absolutely all over the place. It's trying to emulate something like Suicide Squad or Guardians of the Galaxy, but with a laughable incompetence. The first scene left me gaping in awe of how terrible the editing was. There are so many badly placed cross-fades, extended establishing shots, weird almost-music-sequences that aren't willing to commit... then other scenes will just be filmed normally. If they wanted this film to have its own distinct style, they needed to fully commit to it, and make that part of the story's core identity. This just feels like they tacked things on without fully understanding how to actually utilize them.

And the QUICK ZOOMS. This might be a weird thing to fixate on, but I genuinely felt like I was losing my mind. This movie would not stop doing quick zooms, on everything, for every scene. You'll be watching two characters exchange quiet, calm dialogue, and the camera just keeps cranking in closer to their faces. It's just another stylistic choice that they're doing without any real understanding of why.

Perhaps most irritatingly, this movie fundamentally misunderstands the concept of Section 31. First, they just don't get the most basic premise of the organization they based their entire movie on. A Starfleet officer is an official part of their team, expressly there to serve as their Federation oversight. Excuse me?? Did you watch a SINGLE previous Section 31 episode?? The entire point of this group is that they exist beyond official oversight.

But even worse, I'm not sure these writers understand that Section 31 are the bad guys. One of Georgiou's lines is, "Section 31 is just the place for officers who bend the rules, never quite break them, until they do." The final scene has Garrett fondly calling Georgiou a "bad bitch." And the team doesn't really do anything all that morally questionable -- they all just crack terrible edgy jokes the whole time. In this movie, Section 31 genuinely is just Starfleet but edgy, and it pisses me the hell off.

Genuinely, the utter misunderstanding of Section 31 is one of my least favorite things about modern Trek. I really hope this movie's reception will convince them to just shelve the group entirely for a while.

I do think a decent version of this movie could have existed. Cut the entire side cast to have a tighter focus on a trio of Georgiou, Alok, and Garrett. Georgiou and Alok have a similar enough backstory that they could develop a really interesting dynamic with more screentime. And Garrett can be there as the Starfleet officer who stumbled into the situation against her will, and tries to maintain her moral compass while also recognizing that drastic action is needed to defend the Federation.

Then you could actually explore the meaningful differences in morality between these characters. Touch on the core themes of what Section 31 was originally meant to be. Do the ends justify the means? At what point have you gone too far? And with Georgiou specifically -- is it even possible for someone like to her to seek redemption? Can she truly earn it?

Instead, we get a bland movie that isn't interested in exploring any deeper meanings. It just wants to be an edgy Star Trek version of Suicide Squad. And that's a damn shame.

[destielaureversebb]

Coming soon for the @destielaureversebb: “The Spirit of Radio” 

Author: sidewinder @hawkland Artist: @mercurialkitty

Rating: Explicit Archive warnings: None Length: 25,000 words Tags:  Radio Station AU, Disc Jockey Dean, Angels Are Dicks (Even When They're Not Angels), Angst, Classic Rock Relationships: Dean/Castiel, background Sam/Jess, Benny/Andrea

Summary:  

What happens when corporate, satellite radio and a small town disc jockey collide?

Angel Radio needs a new hero. That is, they need a new DJ to anchor their classic rock channel and Dean Winchester of Sioux Falls, South Dakota just might be the man for the job. That's the directive Castiel receives from his boss, Naomi: recruit Dean to leave his small town shift at K.A.R.S. behind and move to the Los Angeles where a more lucrative career in broadcasting could await him.

But Dean's not sure he can leave his friends and found family behind��not even when Castiel shows up looking like someone who could light his fire, and the attraction is entirely mutual.

Excerpt: 

Castiel took a deep breath, counted to ten, and knocked on Naomi’s cracked-open door. “Come in,” she called, followed immediately by, “Castiel, you’re late.”

“I know and I apologize. Traffic this morning was—”

“—It doesn’t matter,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand. “In fact, neither does today’s planned agenda.”

“Oh?” His stomach twisted as he put Hannah’s stack of files down on the meeting desk. He wondered if his tardiness was some kind of last straw, and now his job was on the line. 

But Naomi didn’t look displeased, for once. If anything there was a glimmer of excitement breaking through her typical cold gaze as she handed him a portfolio and said, “I need you to take the ticket in there and get on a flight to Sioux Falls this evening.”

Castiel blinked in confusion. “Sioux Falls? What for?”

“As I’m sure you’re aware, we need some new talent to boost our failing channels, or else it’s time to pull the plug on them completely. Try something new. Our classic rock station, for instance, has been struggling all year since Raphael was poached by Crowley Media.”

“I know, and none of our temporary replacements have panned out.” Crowley Media was their biggest competitor in the satellite radio industry, and their coup offering Raphael a far better deal than they could ever manage had thrown everything—and everyone—in a tizzy. 

“Until now—or at least, that is my hope. Ambriel, over in our research department, tells me she’s been hearing great things about a fresh voice coming out of a small, local station in Sioux Falls South Dakota. A DJ by the name of Dean Winchester. He plays classic rock mixed with—of all things—automobile discussion. Ambriel says it’s like ‘Car Talk’ only with music—and a handsome young face. We could market his face and that midwestern charm into something big.”

Posting date:  March 17, 2025

[crowsofdarkness]

Moment Of Weakness: Chapter Twenty Six

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence, kidnapping, faking a pregnancy.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Authors Note: I just wanted to remind everyone who reads this, there are heavy moments of cheating/having an affair in this story. You might not agree with the actions of "reader" or Bucky but it does pertain to the storyline. If anyone is interested, tags are open for this! Just send me a message or comment!

Tags: @cjand10 @generalmoonpolice @sapphirebarnes @baw1066 @nameless-ken @minami97 @bookofriverr

Bucky stood close behind me as we walked the short distance from his car to the building where we were meeting Steve and Sam. According to Steve, there was someone inside that knew some information about the hit and he was willing to meet with us on one condition. Bucky had a tight grip on a bag that held that certain condition. 

Twenty thousand conditions to be exact. 

The guy wanted $20,000 in exchange for the info that we needed. I tried to tell Bucky that no matter what information this guy had, it wasn’t worth all this money.

“For your life? I’d drain every single one of my accounts.” 

I felt every inch of my body vibrate as we walked up to Steve and Sam, who stood right outside of the entrance of the club. 

“Is he here?” Bucky questioned. 

Steve nodded. “At the bar. 

“Is it in there?” Sam pointed to the bag. 

“Yeah. Asshole wouldn't take anything less than 20,” Bucky grumbled before resting his eyes on me. “Remember what I said?” 

I sighed but nodded. “Stay by you at all times.” 

With a motion of his head, we all headed inside of the lively club while all standing close to one another. Steve stood close behind me while Sam and Bucky were in front of us. There were bodies packed close together, dancing along with the loud beats of the music and we had to physically push our way through to make our way to the bar. Steve was right behind me, his warm breath across the skin of the back of my neck, and his arms were on either side of me to protect me from whatever would happen. 

Bucky looked over his shoulder to make sure I was still close so I linked my fingers with his, allowing him to guide me through the crowd. 

Through the clearing, we all stopped in front of the bar and Steve pointed to the lone man sitting in the middle with his back to us. 

“Perhaps we can go somewhere more private?” The man swung around in the stool, now staring at us. 

When his eyes landed on me, they widened for a brief second. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” 

I shrugged. “I don’t have anything to be afraid of.” 

“Hm,” the man hummed while taking a drink. “Baron Zemo.” 

“Y/N,” I gave a curt nod. 

Baron looked towards Bucky and motioned towards the bag in his hand. “Is that it?” 

Bucky dropped it to his feet. “Tell us what you know.” 

“If it’s anything like the last few times we’ve met, all the money is here?” Baron asked while placing the bag onto his lap. 

Clearly this wasn’t the first time that Bucky and Baron had met. 

“What do you know?” Steve now asked. 

“I received a call from Clint Barton a week ago to fly him and a lady friend of his to Hungary.” 

“Budapest?” Bucky spoke. 

I suddenly remembered the conversation that was being had between Bucky and the guy he had pinned to the bar last night. 

Baron nodded. “This wasn’t the first time I let them use my jet either.” 

Bucky’s hand was still linked with mine so I could feel when he tensed. “Them?” 

“Clint and the redhead,” Baron smirked while taking a drink. 

He knew who the redhead was, we all did. Baron was playing coy which irritated us. 

“I think she said her name was Natasha?” He said. 

Bucky went to lunge for him but I held him back, letting him know that we wouldn't get any more information if Baron was knocked to the floor unconscious. With myself standing in front of him to block him, I gave Baron a hard stare. 

“Cut the bullshit, Zemo. You knew Natasha was Bucky’s wife. How many times did you let them use your jet?” I asked. 

“Quite a lot over the last year and a half, even when the two of you were married. I caught them a few times being a bit too close, especially for a married woman,” Baron said over my shoulder to Bucky. 

My heart fell into my stomach with the realization that Natasha and Clint were seeing each other. But I could only hurt for Bucky so much because we were doing the same thing that they were. 

Sam could feel the sudden tension so he spoke next. “Are you planning on picking them up in Budapest to fly them back?” 

Baron only nodded. 

“When?” Steve asked. 

He lifted up his cell phone. “Clint will call me when they're ready to come back.” 

“As soon as he calls you, you let me know. Understand?” Bucky demanded, still standing behind me. 

“For a price,” Baron smirked. 

I went to refuse, not wanting Bucky to waste any more of his money on me, but he spoke faster than I could. 

“I’ll wire you another twenty when I have proof that they touched ground in New York.” 

The smirk on Baron’s face doubled in size but the conversation that they were now having fell on my deaf ears as I felt a burning sensation on the back of my head and it wasn’t coming from Bucky. 

While peering over my shoulder, I saw that not only was one set of eyes on me but at least three that I could notice. And it wasn’t the kind of gaze that was full of desire, it was more so filled with greed. 

One of the men pushed back his jacket, revealing a gun holstered on the side of his pants and I immediately patted Bucky’s chest with shaking fingers. 

“Bucky,” I muttered. 

He followed my eyes and I knew when he saw what I did because Bucky quickly went to head over to the man who was holding his gun. However, I held him back. 

“We can't afford to cause a huge scene right now. The less people know that I’m here the better.” 

Reluctantly, Bucky nodded and used his large frame as a shield, standing behind me once again. Our eyes locked when I placed a gentle hand on his cheek. 

“No one is going to try anything while you’re here, especially with Sam and Steve,” I reassured him.

I heard a snicker from behind me. 

“You think that you’re safe because you have THE Bucky Barnes at your side? There will be a time where he can’t be with you. I’d suggest you be careful.” 

I cocked my head to the side, lips parting in a smug smile. “Is that a threat?” 

Baron gave a one shoulder shrug. “What could you possibly do?” 

My knuckles collided with his chin, his body clattering to the hard floor below and he brought the stool down with him. The loud noise caught the attention now from everyone around us but I paid them no mind. 

Baron went to stand up but I placed the heel of my shoe deep into his chest, locking him into place on the ground. 

“Let’s get one thing straight, Zemo,” I dug my heel harder into his chest when I felt him struggle against me. “I don’t need them to protect me. Clearly, I have zero problem dealing with men like you.”  

Steve looked around us, people now crowding around us even closer, and gently grabbed my elbow. 

“Y/N, we need to go,” his voice was soft but urgent.

I watched as one guy with a knife gripped tight in his hand slowly stalked towards me which caused Bucky to wrap an arm around me and pull me into his chest. 

“Keep your head low,” he breathed in my ear. 

With my own arm wrapped around his side, I let him quickly lead me out of the club, Sam and Steve following very close behind. 

[paladin--strait]

Hello! I love your blog!

Could I please request…

1 - "I'm sick, don't get near me" "I don't care"

With Nico Hischier? I currently have Influenza A and im dyingggg for some comfort 💖❄️

chills - nico hischier

i hope you get better soon! 🫶 sorry this took a while to come out, i hope you enjoy it!

tw: sickness, medicine, vomiting

prompt: "i'm sick, don't get near me." "i don't care."

-

chills, headache, fever, cough, stuffy nose, sore throat, body aches, all the classic symptoms of some sort of sickness. i sit on the edge of the leather bed in the checkup room at urgent care, kicking my legs and waiting patiently for the results for my tests. covid, flu, influenza, strep, anything could be positive at this point. but right now i just want to find out so i can get my prescription called in and leave.

about 30 boring minutes of waiting later, the nurse comes back, now wearing a mask, and tells me that the only test that came back positive was for influenza A. she says that it's highly contagious and that i should start on my medication as soon as possible. she gives me a steroid shot to help with some of my symptoms, then sends me on my way.

i get in the car, driving to the pharmacy. i bop my head to some light, upbeat pop music to distract me. i pay for ny prescription and then drive off to go pick up some food for nico and i. he should be home by and now, hungry and tired from practice. i pick up the food and drive home, seeing nico's car in the driveway.

i grab the bags and head inside, shutting the door behind me. i set the food down on the counter, hearing nico coming down the stairs. "hey love, where've you been?"

my shoulders slump as i turn to look at him, "nico, don't come near me, i'm sick." i say, sniffing.

nico's expression drops from excitement to concern. "what's wrong? what do you have?" he asks me questions at a million miles per hour, stepping towards me.

"i have influenza A, it's highly contagious!" i say, trying to get him to stay away so he doesn't get sick too.

but that doesn't stop him, he manages to back me against the counter in my attempt to distance us, putting a hand on my shoulder. "love, i don't care that you're contagious. we've been practically right up on each other since i got home from that roadie. if you're sick, i'm probably gonna be sick anyway."

"that's no excuse, nico! you have to play tomorrow. i don't want you sick." i say, shaking my head and pushing him away.

"don't do that, don't push me away." he says, a twinge of sadness in his tone. "i want to care for you. let me do that." his voice is pleading, wanting to help take care of me while i'm sick.

"nico, if you get sick too, i'm gonna have to take care of you, too." i say, laughing softly. "did you think about that?"

"i didn't..." he says, looking down. "but, i can start taking some antibiotics and stuff, try to keep healthy while i take care of you? but first you need to take your own medicine before i start even looking for mine."

he walks to the bag of medicine i brought home and pulls out my prescriptions, measuring the liquid and setting out water for me to take the pills. the care nico takes in giving me my medicine is incredible. he googles the side effects and what you shouldn't take with it before giving me the medicine. i drink the liquid, the taste making me scrunch my face as i take the pills next, drinking water with it.

nico gives me a kiss on the forehead before he moves to our medicine cabinet and pulling out some antibiotics and vitamins, checking the labels to make sure it'll help with what he needs. he takes his own medicine as i wash my hands, pulling the food out of the bag. i leave his in the package so i don't breathe all over it, and sit on the opposite side of the table as him.

nico frowns when he sees where i'm sitting, but he doesn't argue, taking his seat across from me. we eat our food in a comfortable silence, with a question here and there.

about an hour after dinner, we're sitting on the couch watching the canucks vs. oilers game, when my stomach begins to churn. i stand, immediately rushing to the bathroom. i barely make it in time, my dinner hurled into the toilet. i kneel, placing my hand on the counter next to me to steady myself. i feel two hands grabbing my hair and pulling it back, a kiss pressed to the back of my head.

after a few minutes, i finally feel okay enough to stand. i use the counter to help pull myself up, sighing as i wipe my mouth with a towel. i turn and see nico standing there, a sorrowful expression on his face. he opens his arms, pulling me in for a tight, grounding hug. i cling to him, pressing my face into his chest. he whispers kind things into my ear softly, rubbing my back.

nico leads me to the bedroom, helping me out of my day clothes and into my sleep clothes, laying me in the bed and telling me he'll be right back. he slips out of the room and returns a few minutes later with a mug of hot tea. he sets it on my bedside table and changes into his sleep pants.

"time to take your medicine." he says, walking back over to me and helping me sit up. he hands me the little cup of liquid, watching as i quickly try and drink it, trying to rid of the awful taste with a sip of tea. i then take my pills as nico climbs into bed beside me.

i finish my tea, slipping back into the bed properly. nico pulls me into his chest, "i love you so much, you know that?" he says, i can almost hear the smile in his tone.

"even when i'm throwing up?" i ask, looking up at him.

"even when you're throwing up." he laughs softly, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead and reaching back to turn off the lamp on his bedside table. "goodnight, my love." was the last thing i heard before i drifted off to a comfortable sleep, still in nico's loving arms.

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 10

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 1000

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Sunday, 5 PM.

The sun had come back. Alessia had organized a barbecue with guests, including Alexia and her partner. It was an afternoon just the way I liked it—good vibes, friends, music, and rosé wine. Alessia was now playing guitar with Alexia, and we were all singing anything and everything around them.

My phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number. I stood up and stepped away from the group for some quiet.

"Hello?"

"Ona?"

I couldn’t place the voice.

"Yes, who’s this?"

"Well, you’ve forgotten me quickly! Lucy!"

Lucy…

"Ah! Completely forgotten, indeed! But who are you, Lucy?" I replied teasingly.

She laughed.

"Where are you, Ona?"

A strange question.

"Uh… at a barbecue!"

"In what area?"

What did she want from me?

"In the Minimes neighborhood!"

"Not far from my house! Do you have the keys on you?"

Less than 10 minutes away, indeed.

"Yes, in my car..."

She continued, her voice eager.

"Alright, Ona. I need a huge favor. I’m at the house, right in front. I don’t have the keys; I’m sure I left them in Brittany. I absolutely need to get in, I need to check something. Can you come? It won’t be long."

The pain in the neck. Calling me on a Sunday, questioning me, and demanding I come. She should have come herself!

"Don’t you want to come and...?"

She cut me off.

"I need you on-site! Not for long, Ona! I’m waiting for you!"

She hung up.

She was insufferable, thinking she could do whatever she wanted. I was furious inside. Who did she think she was? Don’t go. But my curiosity overtook my frustration. This conversation, her enthusiasm, had intrigued me. 

I went back to my friends.

"Alright, guys, the Dragon just called me. She’s at the house, stuck because she doesn’t have the keys. She asked, or rather, demanded I make the round trip. I’ll be back as soon as I can!"

"For who does she think she is?" Alessia said, giving me a dark look. "Don’t go! You’re not her servant! Enough."

She wasn’t wrong.

"I’ll do the round trip, I promise! She’s impossible, I know! I’ll be quick! Ciao!"

I decided to take Alessia’s bike. I’d had a drink, so it was safer. 25 minutes later, I found myself facing Lucy. She was stunning, wearing a coral dress, her skin bronzed from her week in Brittany. My eyes moved from her perfect neckline to her blue eyes. I wanted her so badly, I wanted to touch her, kiss those lips that were pulling me in. But I couldn’t stand her, once again, making me come out on a Sunday just because she felt like it.

She greeted me with a big smile.

"Ona! Thanks for coming. You’re on a bike?"

"Yes, I just came from a barbecue, safer that way!"

She smiled and continued.

"How forgetful I am, I left my keys in Brittany! Come in, you’ll help me, it won’t take long! I found this beautiful coffee table… Isn’t it gorgeous?! I just got back, I needed to check everything with the rugs!"

I couldn’t believe it… She had made me come on a Sunday to test a coffee table. She was mocking me!

Seeing my stunned expression, she added:

"I couldn’t wait!"

What gall. She made me come for this, the selfish woman. I’d placed orders for coffee tables that I’d probably have to cancel soon. Without saying anything, she grabbed my arm.

"Let’s go!"

Her hand on my skin... Calm down, Ona, the alcohol is making you more sensitive. Self-control. This woman is a pain.

We carried the coffee table, which was indeed beautiful, to the living room. We unrolled the first rug, the ochre one, and tried to arrange it in various ways with the coffee table on top. Then came the Persian rug.

I didn’t speak much. My irritation contrasted with her enthusiasm. She made big gestures, smiling. That smile… The rug was heavy, and she couldn’t decide where she wanted it. We kept moving it around. The heat was unbearable, I was exhausted, and sweating.

"Tell me, Lucy, just to clear something up?"

She looked up.

"You’re really the mayor of this city?"

She nodded, surprised.

"A city of 200,000 people. You must make many decisions, take a stand. So I have a question: HOW CAN YOU SPEND SO MUCH TIME DECIDING WHERE TO PUT A DAMN RUG?!"

She enjoyed my apparent bad mood and my tone, half-humorous, half-serious.

"Remember, satisfying my most extravagant demands, Ona."

She fixed me with her gaze. That look… I was burning up, more than ever. I wanted her skin against mine. A physical need.

In yet another move, I tripped on the rug. Literally. I fell forward onto the Persian rug.

I looked at her. A smile on her face, she was mocking me. I pouted. She came closer, offering her hand to help me up.

I was irritated by this mess. I was hot. The alcohol coursing through my veins was loosening me up. I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward me so forcefully that she fell onto the rug beside me.

Stop, Ona, I thought, you’re going too far. 

But it was too late. 

Lucy on her back, I stared at her and moved closer to her face. Her eyes didn’t leave mine. Her gaze was a mix of surprise, concern, and desire. Yes, desire—I could see it. 

I was only a few centimeters from her lips. She was now so vulnerable.

[saturncoyote]

you know, garde being trans makes me have a few questions (nothing bad of course LOL this ask feels ominous). do you headcanon there being any major gender differences in trolls? either socially or biology-wise? ive noticed you give both garde and creek facial hair, but not hibiscus, so im wondering if you think theres like. testosterone and estrogen for trolls lol. or if its more of a presentation thing and all trolls have the same biology, some just choose to present differently. since as we've seen, trolls are able to reproduce all on their own, so the need for biological sex feels like a secondary thing? if you get what i mean. more of a social thing than a strictly biology thing? (i ask this as if these arent movies made by cis people who do Not think about this like us trans folks would BUT!!! i like your headcanons better so i thought id ask if you have any for gender <3)

Honestly Garde being EXPLICITLY trans wasn't my original plan, he was going to be one of those characters who is implied to be trans by the themes of his story (different from his peers, not understood by those around him, pressured to be more like the "norm") plus the fact that he's a troll who "experiments" with his "genre", so i never really put that much thought into HOW a trans troll would work

Personally i think trolls don't have much sexual dimorphism (thank god for that, imagine if we lived in the timeline where Dreamworks decided to give every female troll giant bazongas to make sure everyone understood they're the GIRL ones, though most female trolls in the movie still suffer from the "Sonic and Amy, Mickey and Minnie" curse of wearing shirts while the boys can go shirtless, with the exception of glitter trolls of course) plus i don't think trolls would be the type to pay much mind to sex and gender (like you said, they can reproduce asexually and male trolls can produce eggs so biological sex doesn't even have to be a factor here, if anything the concept of gender to a troll could be completely different to our concept of gender)

I like the idea that there is no difference between a "male" and "female" troll so there is no need for HRT, if a troll wishes to transition physically they can do that at any time (headcanon that trolls can just grow a beard just as easily as they can grow their hair), the real question they need to figure out first is HOW they want to present themselves, especially with how crazy trolls can make their hairs i can imagine it can be quite overwhelming having to figure out what you want to do style-wise, the possibilities are endless !

Honestly with those headcanons in mind i often worry that Garde's story feels "out of place" in this universe or maybe even "forced", why would Garde be ostracised for being different when trolls themselves are so different from one another ? But then i remember the first movie and how Branch was cast aside for seeing the world differently and not having a constantly positive attitude and the second movie where their immediate reaction to seeing a different genre of music was to assume they don't know that music is meant to make you happy and i think no yeah it makes perfect sense that this guy who wants to experiment with his music genre and maybe even play songs that aren't pop-y and upbeat all the time would probably get a few angry stares from other trolls

[voiceofdragons]

Gloria was searching the cabinets, knowing for a fact she'd left the flour in one of them. She'd been thinking about making empanadas for the special that day, and the only ingredient she was needing was the flour. She found plenty of corn flour, but that wasn't her go to for this so the search went on.

Ava was sorting through her notes, and wondering when the next time to stock up on cigarettes would be possible. Caspar was dozing at the counter, a crossword half finished while he listened to 'Stardust' by Hoagy Carmichael, courtesy of Effie and Zebulon wanting to dance together in the quiet before a shift. Leif was on the roof, adjusting the power supply for his drones to try and make them charge quicker.

As the song finished, familiar static replaced the whistling tune of a bygone era, catching the attention of the residents of the diner who were inside to hear it. Leif was more preoccupied with the random purple glow that replaced the sky, and the lines and patterns filling the spaces between the stars.

"Uh oh," Caspar said and sat up straight to look more closely at the radio. "Effie, Zebulon? Today was going to be normal wasn't it? You were even playing secular music!" Caspar, while exasperated, wasn't trying to panic. Sometimes Effie and Zebulon did random things like change their personalities, this is a known fact. Normally there's a bit of warning though.

"They switching it up today? Been awhile, I wonder who it'll be today. Maybe Plinth and Dark Mark? Been awhile since we had their kookiness to enjoy." Ava stretched out as she waited for the static to settle, glad her day wouldn't be boring.

Gloria closed the cabinet, deciding empanadas could wait till the nonsense in her dining room was sorted. For better or for worse, when those two lovebirds switched things up on the radio it made for a hectic day.

All of a sudden the static faded to a jazzy drum line, and mysterious piano notes. Ava's request might have been granted, they all thought, until the voice spoke. Neither Effie, or Zebulon.

"Hello listeners, the moon has a city. This statement is not in any way an attempt to supercede city ordinance regarding describing the moon, it is simply stating the location of a city. It's boring, and not many people go there." The voice said, smooth, calm and professional.

"Guys!!" Leif shouted from the roof, clearly frightened of something.

"We're busy in here Leif!" Gloria shouted back, shaken by the foreign voice from their familiar radio. "Get your but down here, somethings up with the Mucklewains!"

"Today is a special day for public radio." The voice continued, " Today I am joined at the station by two lovely radio hosts from Toadsuck Arkansas! Citizens of Night Vale, I am delighted to introduce to you, Effie and her husband Zebulon Mucklewain!" The voice sounded very eager with this announcement, clearly happy to introduce the couple, but only confusing those inside the diner.

"So, the Mucklewains didn't change, we got a new host?" Caspar rubbed the side of his head, baffled, while Ava started bouncing in her seat, anything new being something to study!

This is what I have so far, I might add to this let me know what you think!

I feel like if midnight burger showed up in Night Vale everyone would just be chill with it.

Cecil voice: “In other news, Larry Leroy out on the edge of town has reported that a diner appeared in the middle of the scrublands overnight. None of us have any idea how it got there or what it’s intentions are, but the coffee is dee-lish. City council has stated in a press release that “it’s whatever. Like, we don’t know anything about architecture. Leave us alone!”

Also Carlos and Ava. I would love to see that interaction

[janitorhutcherson]

you know a character we don’t speak about enough? billy from burn. okay, not one of the best movies ever, but unpopular opinion: one of my fave characters. he’s just so SCRUMMY!

on that note: headcanons.

cw: nsfw towards the end (knife play, gunplay, rough activities), mostly fluff! drug usage, fire (mwah no skin), hinted (but is he really) death

• although he may have robbed a place, billy isn't an evil person. in fact, he's extremely well loved by the community. he's the type of man to help old ladies with their groceries, tip well at coffee shops ... at least as well as he can. this is why when it went public that billy had robbed a place, many people were in shambles. "you mean sweet, sweet lil ol' billy? are you sure? oh my goodness, what has that boy gotten himself into?"

• before he started dwindling in some not-so-great activities and found himself owing a bunch of money, billy was an 'aspiring' artist. he'd play his guitar sometimes at the local bars. people would tell him "you could be something one day, y'know," and billy would just scoff and laugh -- but deep down? he'd dreamt of maybe, just maybe getting out of his silly town and being something, but he knew it wasn't possible.

• billy wasn't always the mess he is now. at one point, he had a full on family, hopes and dreams, but he pushed almost everyone away in an attempt to keep them from being dragged into his mess of a life. that is, everyone except you. you'd been the constant shining star in his life, refusing to let him push you any further. you'd clean his wounds after bar fights, tuck him into bed when he'd drank too much, and even take care of him when you were scared he'd OD. he hated putting you in those situations, but he knew he could never get you to leave.

• billy is the type of boyfriend to not let you lift a finger, for the most part. you do so much to keep him safe, to take care of him when he is at his absolute worst, that he won't even let you so much as make your own glass of water. before you can even fully stand up, he's up on his feet, asking what he can do for you. "hungry, darling? need something to drink? a bath? what can I do for you? just tell me and it's yours." while billy was nice to everyone, he would only do anything for you.

• billy is super protective. given his traumatic past of losing people he loves, hurting people he loves, and witnessing awful things, he is constantly on edge. the moment something seems off in a situation, his eyes stay on whatever or whoever seems odd, his arms staying wrapped around you. he's ready to pounce at the slightest movement. on that topic, nobody wants to know what happened last time someone tried to catcall you. lets just say the guy left with a black eye and billy left with an upset partner who kept scolding him for going a little too far.

• he's a huge softie. he'll buy you flowers, burn CDs for you, sing sweet little songs in his sultry voice with a little rasp from smoking. he loves holding you and swaying to music, kissing behind your ear and holding you in bed. he's BIG on physical touch, because he's afraid if he lets go, you'll dissipate in his arms, ceasing to exist as if you were only a dream. while he is a major romantic, it's only for you. god forbid you point it out, or he'll get all grumpy and pouty, a deep crimson blush on his cheeks, grumbling on and on about how annoying it is when you point is out. "oh shut up, I'm your boyfriend, okay? I'm, like, just bein' good to you and stuff, like a boyfriend does."

• while billy is a sweet and gentle lover, in bed it's a different story. of course he'd take care of you after, but during, he'd ram into you with direct eye contact, hand wrapped around your neck. vile insults and strings of curse words would come out of his mouth as he'd continuously abuse your insides. he's a big fan of knife play, too, carving his initials into your soft skin, watching as it bleeds, knowing you'd never be able to get rid of his mark. on top of that, he'd let you mark him too, because while he loved making sure everyone knew you were his, he wanted everyone to know he was yours.

• okay, let's get the obvious out of the way here. billy is a die hard gun owner. he's got a pistol he uses, and sometimes, billy likes to take the bullets out of it, and push the barrel into you, watching as you squirm. sometimes he'll stick it in your mouth, watching as your pretty lips wrap around the metal coo'ing soft words to you. "oh god, you're so pretty like this, baby. yeah, 's a good job, keep sucking, gorgeous..."

• as we all know, billy gets charred. crisped. scorched. cooked. grilled. roasted. seared. burnt. this is what seems to be his ultimate demise, until it's not..... but then it is again, at least we thought. in reality, billy barely escaped. he'd awoken up, pain all over. he tried his best to make his way back home, somehow, by the grace of god making it. when he showed up back home to you, worried as hell, and a little angry at him until you saw the state he was in. your anger instantly turned to worry as you rushed to his aid, gasping as you begged for an explanation. billy, being the stubborn man he is, simply weakly scoffed out, holding up a shaky palm as if to say 'wait.' "no need to get all worked up, darlin', it's just a little burn." to that, all you could do is roll your eyes as you got to work on trying to save your burnt boyfriend.

[girltomboy]

I just realized I haven't written anything here since before the new year. And out of everything that's happened since then the new year night has faded the quickest from my memory. I spent the night with my boyfriend and my best friend and her boyfriend and all of our friends in an Airbnb we rented, and we took acid and it was an exhilarating experience. I was honestly surprised to notice the extent to which some of our friends were willing to perform their idea of an LSD trip. Instead of actually experiencing it. The boys wanted to take a walk at about 4 am, so for an hour, it was just me and my best friend in the Airbnb and I honestly thought we would spend that hour together talking or doing things or just being in each other's presence, but she was just overly preoccupied by the mess in pretty much the whole Airbnb left by the others, and she fussed about trying to clear up the space a little bit. And I understood that urge, it's actually quite common on acid, so I've heard, and I tried to help her. I did my best putting some things away, some glasses, but eventually she ended up going into one of the rooms on her own. She briefly came back wearing pyjamas and I thought she would stay. I thought we would sit in the living room together, but she went back, and I realised that she was quite worried about the others. They had been gone for almost an hour, and her boyfriend was not answering her texts any longer, so she was starting to get anxious; so I went after her and I tried my best to ease her mind. I was a little worried myself, a little uneasy, but I trusted our friends to stay together and to find their way back, and I also understood that perhaps a walk is what they really needed. If they felt like taking a walk outside maybe it was good for them. I could understand that and still resent their decision to leave at the same time Not long after, we heard the others return and I left the room. I went back into the living room to check up on them. I think it's safe to say that their absence has really really had a problematic impact on everybody's acid trip.  We found it really hard to get back in a positive mindset or mood once they came back. I still think it was a terrible idea and it, if I may say so ruined the whole night for pretty much everybody, and this was only a few hours into our trip so we still had a way to go. But my best friend I think got really overwhelmed, and I heard her crying in her room, and from what I've heard someone had tried to go in the bathroom while she was still there and just caught her in a bad moment. I was in bed in another room while this was going on and I wanted really badly to be there with my best friend, I wanted to comfort her, I felt oppressed by the wall that was separating our bedrooms. And I just wished I could hold her, but the moments we shared together when it was just the two of us in the Airbnb felt a little weighed down by a kind of coldness and distance from her side, so I just I decided to give her some space. I regret it now, but it's what I was feeling. Eventually, her boyfriend told us the next day that she had to take like four Xanax pills to fall asleep around 7 am and they cried together. I suppose they felt a lot of repressed emotions coming to the surface. My boyfriend and I, on the other hand, had very little trouble falling asleep on our own around the same time, and we actually slept like six hours, which felt like half an hour, but it was a good thing that our brains got some rest at least.

Anyway, so that was the energy and dynamic of the group for the night. Personally I had an enjoyable trip even though I had a couple of moments in which I really wanted someone near me. I felt alone, and I tried to bring myself some of the comfort and warmth that I was craving. I lay down on a very soft and fuzzy carpet, I massaged my feet, and I tried to find what I needed within myself; my boyfriend and our friends were away, my best friend was alone in her room and it was just me. I still think, even though I managed to make myself feel alright, I still think those moments were a little sad, and I wish I didn't have to do that. I'm going to make sure to communicate this much better the next time we do something like this together. Other than that, I laughed a lot and I read some art history booklets we found in the Airbnb. We looked at some art postcards, the ceiling, we doodled and played with the objects that were around us: my film camera, crayons, face paint. It was nice while we were together. I felt giggly and warm and euphoric. I had so many epiphanies, and funny thoughts, and synchronicities, and revelations, and I even read a few pages in French and understood everything. It was actually nice to remember that I know French. Like, I read posts in French on social media from my French-speaking mutuals, and watch instagram reels in French, but it felt refreshing to read actual sentences in an actual book and understand everything. My boyfriend and I made out on the roof in the cold, and smoking felt really good too. I felt beautiful, even though nobody told me that I was (except for my bf 🫡) I felt it on my own. I did feel a little disconnected from my friends, just everybody in general, in the sense that I wish there had been a little more depth in our interactions or activities. Water sign moment, but I wish we had maybe talked a little more about our emotions. For some of us, there was hardly any comedown so to speak. Others felt a little hung over not in the literal sense, just that they maybe felt the absence of the sparkly euphoria a little harder. It was probably the Xanax too. I started missing my friends immediately after we said goodbye, but I did spend a lot of time with my boyfriend afterwards. Well, I can't wait to do it again.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The musical episode.

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[my-thoughts-and-junk]

finished hazbin hotel and what the fuck it's actually kind of??? good???