#also I want more cadaver content. I love him a lot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whiskeynwriting · 2 years ago

Note

The way you write ghost is so genuine and realistic, he actually seems like a real person that i can clearly imagine in real life, i love ghost x bones!!

Would you ever write heartbreaking whump/angst for them? Literally bring me to tears, i’m ready for it

Love @sanfransolomitatm (that’s me) 🤍

Challenge accepted.

Also, thank you so much for the compliments, oh my goodness. The fact that he feels like a genuine person is so flattering to me, and I'm so glad he can be portrayed that way 🥹 I am also beyond thrilled to know that you love Ghost x Bones 🥰🥰🥰

Love Is a Sin (Part Two)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x OFC "Bones"

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Word Count: 10.2k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Lord… there’s a lot. Mentions of pregnancy/pregnancy tests, loss/death, injury/gore, battle, use of weaponry, angst, mentions of past abuse, mentions/discussions of funeral details, PTSD and therapy, brain injury, major grief.

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A/N: Here’s part two! As promised, it’s much darker. My goal here was to pull emotions out of you guys, let me know how I did (;

Read part one here 🥰

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Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

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“Alright,” Price booms, stomping into the room. “Let’s circle up. We’ve got plans to discuss.”

Already, he hates this. The entire atmosphere has shifted from light and lazy to dark and perilous. Simon can feel his heart rate increasing, his breaths deep and dragging. The mere thought of you in the field makes him want to jump up and wrap you in his arms, drag you away and hide you somewhere safe. What he hates even more than the possibility of that happening is the fact that he allowed it, he’s allowed this to happen. It wasn’t exactly his call to make, but he would’ve made it, and he didn't.

He’s made his bed, and this time, he’s got to lay in it.

So, without much choice, he watches his men regroup in front of him, with his partner sitting up to join in. Price tosses out the maps, Gaz whips out the compass, and Johnny’s already pulling out snacks. Tugging down his mask, Simon releases a harsh sigh, nothing that really draws anyone’s attention, though. He’s pretty much always cranky, and with you here, that trait has grown tenfold.

When Simon reaches for your hand on the couch, your eyes widen. What the hell is he doing? But before you can react, and before anyone else has a chance to see, Johnny tosses a protein bar at the lieutenant.

“Johnny, what the fuck?”

“Don’t be dumb.” Johnny scolds outwardly, scowling at his closest friend.

Price can feel something lingering in the air, an awkward silence, a secret. But he pushes it away. Glancing between his teammates, he clasps his hands together.

“Alright, let’s get to it, then.”

Here we go.

“No man’s land.” Price’s raspy voice begins, finger pressing into the map. “Are we ready for that?”

Easily, the boys respond. Gaz’s simple yes, Johnny’s hell yes, and Ghost’s ‘course we are. And with a contented smirk, Price then turns in your direction.

“Are you?”

You can’t deny the feeling of anxiety surrounding this entire mission. Every time the plans are detailed and discussed, a sort of nervous bile rises in your throat. But you’re here for a reason, and you can’t let the rest of them down. You won’t.

“Yes.”

“Good lass. Gaz, what’ve you got?”

Kyle had performed aerial surveillance before the mission began on foot, scouting the area for more details.What he discovered wasn’t easy to stomach, but was to be expected.

“Casualties by the dozens all throughout. The cadavers are mostly soldiers, troops that had gone in before us. Some had been taken hostage, maybe two or three, but the rest didn’t survive.”

“Bones,”

Instantly, your head shoots up, looking into the blue eyes of your captain. “You stay focused on us, alright? The five of us, that means yourself, too. There’s no bother in saving any of those dead men; am I clear?”

Swallowing, you nod. Though his words are harsh, he means well, and he’s right. Any body on that field is just that, a body, an unfortunate result of war. You have to focus on who’s alive, and keeping them alive.

“Yes, sir.”

More than ever before, Simon wants to hold you. The muscles in his hand twitch slightly, wanting to curl his palm around your thigh in a comforting squeeze. He knows this won’t be easy for you. While you’ve seen battle before, you’ve never gone into the field as a medic. Years ago, you focused on killing. It’s a whole different ball game when you switch gears to saving.

“The reason they all died,” Kyle continues, “Is because they didn’t have you.”

Looking his way, you find a reassuring grin. Returning his encouraging words is your simple nod, a small sense of pride shifting in your features. Your team believes in you.

“When we get across to the building, and that is a when,” The captain clarifies, “Bones will find coverage. She will not be infiltrating with us. In hiding, she’ll wait for our radio. Once we’ve confirmed our kill count, we’ll leave the building… completely empty of souls.”

And when he adds that last little tidbit, the boys around you hum, a certain excitement flowing through their veins. But Simon’s adrenaline rush is also coupled with anxiety. Outside alone? He questions, it’ll be far too easy for them to reach her. But your captain is confident you’ll be able to hold your own, and Ghost needs to try his hand in having faith in that.

“You need to be careful with her.”

“And you need to watch yourself!” Ghost scoffs in return, inching away from his friend. “I can’t take a piss in private?”

Johnny shrugs, “Needed to piss, too.”

With a heavy groan, Simon rolls his eyes, redirecting himself to the task at hand, literally.

“What do you mean, anyways?”

“You’ve gone soft.”

“For her.” He mumbles, and Johnny’s brows raise.

“Holy shite.”

“Shut it, Johnny. There’s nothing wrong with it.” It’s not just Soap he’s trying to convince.

“But there’s something wrong with you.” The sergeant snaps back. “You’re never like this on missions.”

Now, he doesn’t respond. If he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t know what to say; Johnny’s right. He’s too far in his own head to focus on anything else, the details of this mission fleeting tidbits in his brain.

“You need to get your head on straight before you get yourself hurt.”

Again, he’s right. Acting like this is dangerous. You’re an incredible distraction for him, you have been since day one. But this isn’t something he can fight. Last night was… something else. It was different, dare he even say special. It was the most intimate moment you’ve shared. There’s no denying it, Simon feels tied to you.

“Simon,” He then says, truly drawing Ghost’s attention. “I’m happy for you, I really am. I’ve never seen you take such a liking to a person… aside from me.” With that, he nudges his shoulder, grinning.

“Get on with it, Johnny.” But beneath the mask, he’s smiling, too.

“I think you’d be an idiot to lose this, her.” He states, accent just as strong as his candid nature. “And anywhere else, it’d be a great thing. But not here, not now.”

At this, Simon turns his head toward his friend, eyeing him beneath the forest’s dimness. It’s grown dark out, the trees hiding the cabin well enough to be comfortable for another night. And he knows once he goes back inside, he’ll cozy up next to you.

“She’s a teammate out here.” Johnny says, ending his ramble. “Nothing more.” And with that, Johnny’s zipping himself up to head back inside.

That last statement rings throughout Simon’s head, barreling through any sentimental thought. He’s close with his teammates, would do almost anything for them. But for you, he’s wondering what he wouldn’t do. Johnny’s words were true, but it doesn’t really help his situation. He can’t shove down his feelings for you. Sure, he can restrain himself from being outwardly affectionate. But keeping you safe? That was a priority for him.

Back inside, everyone’s picked a spot in the living room. A few blankets had been dragged out from the bedroom, one for each of you to lay on. And with your Mylar thermal blankets, you were more than warm enough for the night. Simon can see you huddled up beneath the shiny material in the far corner of the living area, right beside the couch. Your back is up against the wall and Simon can already see that you’ve laid a blanket out for him right next to you.

Sometimes, your relationship feels like a school-age crush. Saving a seat for each other at the lunch table, pulling out chairs for the other, giving and trading snacks, all nonverbal gestures that are just… sweet, considerate. Evidence of an unspoken connection.

“Thanks, love.” Simon mumbles, grunting as he lays down on the tattered fabric.

“No problem.” You’re laying on your side, already smiling at him.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that.” Settling on his left side, he faces you with his back toward the group.

“Why? Are you blushing?” Teasingly, you grin, watching the corners of his eyes crinkle. He’s smiling. And you’d give anything to see it.

“Shut up.” The roll of his eyes is such a tell-tale sign for him; he could never be annoyed with you, not truly.

Turning slightly, Simon settles on his back. Within the cabin’s darkness, you scooch a little closer, nuzzling into his side. His bulking body hides you, too, his insides burning bright with affection when your lips press against his covered bicep, wet from the snowfall during his earlier outdoor excursion. But you don’t mind. You’re not as close as you were last night, or the night previous in your little tent, but this will do. You’ll take what you can, because you always sleep so soundly next to him.

Simon can tell you’re sleeping well, your snores are evidence of that. And in the darkness of night, he almost feels comfortable again. There isn’t a single worry in his mind regarding the lads, he’d even grown the confidence to wiggle his arm beneath your head, pulling you into him. However, there were many worries brewing in his head about you. More than ever before, he feels a need to preserve this, to keep your relationship intact. He loathes the fact that this happened here, your expression of love for him. If anything, he wishes it’d happened back at base, somewhere truly safe and private.

Guiding him away from such anxious contemplation is your soft, sleepy moan, and the movement of your hand. Lifting your palm, it slides up and over his side, resting on his chest. But you don’t stop there. Sleepy digits move around the neckline of his shirt, searching for something. And then he realizes - his dog tags. Once found, you cling to them, body curling into his side even more than before. Jesus, do you pull every ounce of sweetness from him. The simple motion makes him sigh, eyes closing as he revels in this. He hopes he never loses this.

It was an action you’d done a few times before, something that’s almost become routine. Every other night, it seems, you like to play with them. Awake or asleep, you find some sense of comfort with the small, metal plates. They represent him, his existence, the man that he is.

For some reason, you thought this would be… louder, scarier, more intense than it is. Although, it’s just the approach, just the simple shuffle of feet through the woods. Maybe you expected the enemy to be ready, to pounce on you once you were a foot outside the cabin. But it seems Price was successful with his planning. You’re going to surprise them.

With weapons up and at the ready, you move slowly, steadily, scanning the area as you approach. The air is still, a small chill moving through the woods. It holds you captive, steals your breath and haunts your bones. Something is coming.

Each of you are spaced a bit from the other, a few yards in between each of your teammate’s movements. With your rifles up and aimed, you wonder, what are you aiming for? Any man? A possible vehicle? Movement throughout the slightly rocky terrain? Jesus, it’s been years since you’d been at this. But you’re ready, you can feel it.

Raising a fist, Price signals your halt. Each of your steps still, your breaths held while your hearts pound. What does he see?

As soon as you all stop, Ghost is looking to his right, assessing you. Your gun’s safety is off, you’re holding it properly, and your stance is right on. The sight makes him proud.

That’s my girl.

Through the comms, Soap’s voice comes through. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Five men, weapons in hand and flanking right.”

“Approaching?” Ghost’s gruff voice inquires, eyes narrowing.

“Not yet; they’re flanking to opposite sides of the building, crouching. They’re ready for us, lads.”

So much for the element of surprise.

“We’re crouching. Continue approach, and watch yer heads.”

“Sir.” Johnny responds, his voice firm.

In unison, your group moves forward, scopes searching for this small group of men. Movement to the left of the building calls for your attention, and you wonder…

“Are we shooting?” Whispering into the comms, you keep your eye on a rustling bit of brush, the top of a man’s head clearly visible.

“Not yet. Stay out of their line of fire.” Price returns, stern with his command.

Irritation courses through you, as you now have a clear visual of the enemy’s head. Still, you return with gritted teeth, “Aye.”

“Boys, line up.” He then decides, “Left to right, we’re each taking a man. Bones, keep eyes on your current target, and wait for my go ahead.”

“Yes, sir.”

With Ghost on your left, Price is directly to your right, and then Gaz and Soap. Each man walks on until they find their target within the group, sounding off into the comms once this first step is done.

“We drop ‘em together, swift and silent.”

“Aye.”

“Sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

And then, your turn. “On your signal, Price.” He can tell you’re getting agitated, and it humors him.

Looking off to his left, Price can see you through the brush with his own eyes. Returning his gaze, you witness his amused smirk, an expression that aggravates you further. He’s such a father figure, holding you back before you make a wrong move, guiding you toward the correct path.

“Shoot.”

Just as he predicted, your targets drop in unison. A single bullet zips through each man’s head, penetrating their skulls and knocking them dead. On your own target, a spurt of blood shoots from his skin as he drops, the firm thud of his body heard even from your position.

“Advance.”

Shuffling your feet, you roll your shoulders, breaths steady as you walk toward the building. The surrounding cover of forest you’d been using is starting to wear thin; when you’re on unmarked land, there’ll be close to nothing keeping you from getting hit.

“Halt.” The word isn’t rushed or frantic, but demanding as all hell..

No man’s land is only a few yards away from where you stand, the bodies of dead men scattering the dusty earth. From the angle you’re at, you’re unable to see their wounds directly. But that’s just fine, the sight would only distract you.

“Landmines.”

“Where?” Immediately, Ghost is speaking, having to actively stop his feet from moving closer to you.

“Surrounding the perimeter.” Price clarifies, heavy breaths coming through the radio’s static. “Retrieve your GPR’s.”

While the Ground Penetrating Radars in your packs aren’t exactly ideal, they’re still useful. Though smaller than the usual model, they can detect the electrical current of the explosive. However, it can also confuse any type of metal with a mine, too. Being that many, if not all of these bodies have dog tags around their necks, this could be difficult.

As you continue on, you hear the occasional notification, the small sound from one of your teammate’s readings. And at first, it’s terrifying. Every time you hear a machine go off, you expect an explosion. But these aren’t rookies you’re dealing with; they have decades of expert experience. You thought that’d make this a piece of cake.

Propelled through the air, your body is flung into a pit. The shrill ring in your ears prevents you from accurately hearing the shouts of your team, eyes blinking widely as you regain your bearings. What… happened? Who set one off?

Before you can hear the words of your comrades, the quick zip of lead rushes through the air. The ringing in your head only heightens now, your first instinct being to duck. Shoving yourself further into the pit, your bruised body rolls down the multiple mounds of dirt, finally landing at the bottom.

Cocking your gun, you almost can’t seem to get air in fast enough. You’re already bleeding from the side of your head, nothing extreme but it will definitely have to be looked at. For now, though, you need to come back down. Looking to your left, you’re relieved to see that you aren’t alone. That is, until you identify them.

William Anderson

John Davis

Henry Miller

You don’t know any of them.

Eyes scanning the surrounding figures, they widen, breaths now coming all too quick. It’s like you’re seeing zombies; some eyes are open, black and bloodied and staring into your soul. Others are closed, having embraced the sweet release of death. Limbs have been blown off, flesh rotting as it mixes with the dirt. Legs and arms are twisted, distorted in otherworldly ways. Torn pieces of their uniforms, dog tags that have yet to be collected. Hair muddled and out of code, jaws open and broken.

But the medic in you comes to. Regardless of the injury on your head, and the fresh bruises on your limbs, you move. Whipping out a pair of latex gloves, you scramble toward the dead men. Reaching for their necks, your fingers curl around the circular metals to grab and tear them from their chains. Blood smears across your covered fingers, flesh moving as you dig through clothes to find some of the identification. Hurriedly, you stash them away, using the inner compartment of your jacket. They deserve to be remembered.

“Bones!”

“Copy.” Your voice is rushed, panting on the other end as you collect what remains of the lives now lying dead.

“Get to Gaz.”

“Location?”

“East of the building, along the treeline.”

Shit. Right now, you’re on the opposite end. Regardless, your response is, “Copy.”

Now that you’ve given yourself a moment, you can fully hear the surrounding commotion. You can also hear the way Ghost has been frantically calling your name through your personal comms.

“Bones? Bones?! Fucking Christ, please.”

“Ghost, I’m here.”

And that scares you more than anything. You’ve never heard him so distressed.

“Where are you?”

As soon as you were out of sight, Simon was an absolute fucking mess. It took everything in him not to leap after you into that trench, doing his best to remind himself that you've done this before. You’re good at your job and you can take care of yourself but he needs to take care of you.

The field has never felt so chaotic before. And he usually loves this, the thrill is just too addicting. But right now, he can’t get his head on straight, not until he hears your voice.

“In a pit.” Replying quietly, you gain the courage to glance over the edge. From here, you can see the far east side of the building. That’s where you need to be.

“Still?!” Simon replies, ducking behind a boulder before reaching over and taking a few shots. “You need to move!”

“Heading for the building’s east side.”

Simon was still in the forest when the landmine went off, far enough away to not get hit with the explosion or any of its remnants. But he saw how hard you took the hit, and immediately wished it was him.

“Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, ba - Ghost. I’m fine.” Your correction makes him chuckle, even within this bedlam.

“Ghost!” Soap screams his way, “Ya cannae just stand there!”

Dumbly, Ghost blinks at him.

“Move!”

Taking his own advice, and that of his closest friend, Ghost switches his position. Johnny watches as he pushes forward, following his eyeline only to find you on the end of it. And concern fills the pit of his stomach. Clearly, Ghost isn’t advancing toward the building; he’s watching your six perfectly.

Another group of enemies leak from the building, evidenced by the collective thud of their feet. But peeking out over the edge again might as well be your demise, as you’re immediately targeted by two men.

Eyes widening, you duck back down, head running rampant with ideas. You can’t stay here, you don’t have any chance of survival in this pit. They have the advantage, higher ground. And you need to at least be level with them.

Reaching for your gun, you’re suddenly hit with the realization that your rifle is gone. Head whipping in every direction, you’re unable to find it in your frantic search. It must’ve flung from your body when you were hit. Onto option number two, your pistol. But retrieving it from the holster does nothing for you; a large piece of shrapnel has blown right through it.

“Motherfucker.”

Frustration doesn’t come close to what you’re feeling, but you need to push that aside and find new cover. Scrambling up the side of the ditch, you aim for the forest, which is unfortunately even further away from Gaz. But as soon as you’re up, you’re turning, the two men now only yards away. Ducking away from two shots, you feel yourself stumble backwards a bit. Sweat drips down into the wound on your head, down your neck and chest. Reaching back, your hand finds a tree to rest on briefly, readying yourself for this fight. But then, seemingly out of thin air, one of them drops.

“I’ve got your six.” You knew he did.

Your fixed blade has now become your best friend, quickly gravitating to your hand. They, on the other hand, choose to handle this with fists. The man isn’t much larger than you, allowing you to keep your footing as he swings. Your feet plant firmly in the earth, one further behind to keep your balance. A quick slice across his face surprises him, giving you the opportunity for a stab to the upper chest. The blade sinks into his skin, tearing through muscle to reach his most vital organ. Among all the adrenaline in your veins, you bare your teeth, raising your fists to break his jaw with your hand. Kicking him in the groin knocks him to his knees, allowing you to shift your stance. Standing behind his crumpled form, you grab a fistful of his hair, yanking his head up and back. Tugging the knife from his chest, you slide it smoothly across his neck, spilling a warm redness down his front before inevitably tossing him to the dirt.

“Damn.”

Turning, you rush into the forest, doing your best to evade the current chaos. Ducking through the brush, you make your way back to the start point, searching for Gaz. He must be wounded, and in turn, hiding.

“Bones,” Crackling through your comm link is his voice, a big ragged. “Three yards ahead.”

Once you’ve followed his instructions, you find him lying behind a fallen tree. He’s used a good amount of brush to cover himself, which he pushes away once you’re close enough.

“Can you just patch it up?”

In the moment, you almost breathe out your inner words, oh shit. But you don’t want to frighten him. The sight is gruesome, though, genuinely gorey. His left leg is mangled, three pieces of shrapnel in his stomach and two in his chest. Truthfully, you’ve never seen such torn, wet flesh on a living man. It’s hanging off the bone, tendons visible as they cling to what muscle they can. The shrapnel in his midsection oozes blood but not too much, and probably won’t fully spill until the metal is removed. However, you still retrieve your quickest blood clotting agent for the wounds. Gaz hisses through his teeth at the burn of it, the sensation sizzling through his body. Lastly, applying a good coat of saline to his lower leg will aid in reducing infection, as well as wrapping it entirely.

“Can you move?”

“Not anymore.” His voice is low, strained.

“Where is Price? Did he get hit?”

Nodding, Gaz applies a bit of pressure to his biggest wound. “Nah, he moved on.”

“He didn’t have any injuries?”

“He was too far ahead of the blast.

“Jesus.” No wonder Kyle is so badly mangled, he’s the only one that got hit.

Glancing around, you begin to witness the small creep of fog covering the area. The nighttime air turns thick, and thunder rolls gently overhead. And you can’t see anyone else, the rest of your team is fighting.

“We need to move you.”

“I have enough cover here. You couldn’t even find me.”

“Gaz,”

“Please just go,” Head lying back on the moss, he sighs. “Finish the mission, bring me home when you’re done.”

With a defeated and aggravated sigh, you concede. “Are you still armed?”

“To the teeth.” He confirms, now realizing your lack of weaponry. “Where’s your rifle?”

“Blown off when your dumbass decided to step on a landmine.” And the snarky remark makes him smile. “And my pistol was hit by some shrapnel.”

“Take mine.”

“Don’t be dumb.”

“I have my pistol, you haven't got shit.”

“Kyle.”

“You need it. Go.”

“Bones, cover me at the forest’s east edge.”

“Copy.” Giving Gaz one last judgmental glare, you snatch his rifle, heading off toward your captain.

Crouching low, you begin to crawl when you hear heavy fire again. Price is taking shots from behind a fallen tree’s trunk, watching you inch over to his side.

“How’s Gaz?”

“Alive.” Shrugging, you try to calm your breaths. Looking into John’s blue eyes does well in accomplishing that. “What’s the plan?”

Lifting a shoulder, he speaks into the comms while holding your gaze. “Ghost and Soap take the right. Bones and I will flank the left.”

“We’ve lost our GPR’s.” Soap’s Scottish accent shines through the static.

“Bloody fuckin’ - how?”

“Dropped mine during Gaz’s hit.”

“And Ghost?”

“Lost it in a fight.”

Price scoffs, shaking his head with a whisper of, “Children.”

“Sir?”

“Just get it done. Use your knowledge, your experience, and tread lightly.”

When Price finishes his sentence, you feel an internal pull to your right. Turning your head, you’re met with a pair of strikingly dark eyes. Yards away, beneath the cover of shrubs, Simon’s stare penetrates your heart.

“Are you hurt?” He whispers into your ear, stare holding firm.

All you do is shake your head, and he nods. “Good.”

“Let’s move.” Price then commands, moving toward the building’s right.

Creeping backwards, you swallow. You don’t want to lose sight of him, but you have a job to do. As you turn, you witness Ghost stand, his form towering over the dark green foliage. By the way he moves, you can tell he’s about to follow Johnny. But he stops to take one more look at you, before he grunts.

Sharply, the left side of his body jerks backward, feet staggering a bit. Eyes widening, you lean forward, watching the bullet go right through Ghost’s upper chest. The gasp that leaves your lungs is too loud for your liking, but before you can do much more than that, Ghost is pulling out another gun. With a loud grunt, he aims and fires, dropping a man not too far from you. And with rage now lighting up his insides, he steps forward, reholstering his pistol so he can grab his rifle again. Marching on, you watch as he shoots down five more men, clearing a path straight for the building. With genuine amazement, you watch him, peering over the edge of the fallen log to see every man now narrow their sights to him. But he’s a freight train of a man, listening to the men’s shouts and their weapons, ducking behind anything he can before reappearing with vengeance. Ultimately, though, it’s a dumb move. It’s left him out in the open.

Going against Price’s orders, you set your rifle atop the fallen wood, watching his back. Aiming for the roof, you eliminate the targets up top while Ghost focuses on those surrounding him. And then Soap is appearing, stepping out from the treeline with his pistol out and ready. The way he stomps forward, the way his biceps bulge when he pulls the trigger, the look in his eye while he protects his teammate… it’s inspiring.

“Did I tell you to stay here?!” Yanking you backward by the straps of your vest, Price hauls you off with him.

Like a bumbling baby, you stumble backward, finding your footing just as Price lets you go. Together, you advance toward the building’s right side. You can already see an area for coverage, a large cluster of rocks off the side of a steep hill. It’ll give you enough space to hide while waiting for the boys to get inside.

For some reason, Simon expected you to stay back when he started mowing down a path through these men. He knows Price gave you an order, but in the back of his head, he thought you’d see that he had this handled. There wasn’t anything more you needed to do, he could do this for you. And that’s exactly why you stayed back for a moment, for as long as you could before Price pulled you back into battle, distracting Simon once again.

Head snapping to his right, he witnesses your eager lurch from the forest. You and the captain are ready for this attention, though, weapons drawn as you appear on the field. And it all seems to be going to plan now. Gaz is safe and handled for the moment, Ghost has an injury and so do you, but ultimately, you’re moving; you’re advancing, you’re winning.

Small trickles begin to drip from the sky, the product of the thunder you’d heard not so long ago. And for some reason, the moment freezes. You look up, witnessing the rain as it now freely falls; a moment of peace before your life’s most damaging event.

Another explosion.

Ever the father figure, Price’s fingers once again curl around your vest. He’s tossing you around like a ragdoll today, and right now, it’s because you lunged forward into combat. Flopping to the ground with a huff, your breaths escape your lungs, the wind completely knocked from your chest. And still, you crawl forward, hyperventilating while your eyes search.

At this point, even John is a little frazzled, neither one of you speaking until you hear the shouts of your sergeant.

“Bones!” He’s screaming, voice full of emotion because, well… he never thought this would happen. “Get to Ghost! Get to Ghost!”

And now, your stomach drops into your fucking ass. They didn’t hit a landmine, Simon did.

This time, Price can’t do anything to stop you. You’re scrambling forward, eyes darting around the field until Johnny whispers breathily into the comms, “In that ditch.”

A few yards ahead, Johnny steps in front of you, guarding your body from the men approaching. Price does the same, knowing it’s just the two of them now.

Dirt mixes to mud and smears across your hands, thick clumps sticking to the edges of your jacket. The wetness soaks through your knees to the entirety of your pants, the gentle drip now turning into a torrential downpour. Above your head, lightning strikes, thunder shaking the ground so fiercely that you end up slipping over the edge of the ditch. Falling headfirst into the crater, you land beside Simon’s motionless body.

“Si -” With heaving breaths, you crawl over to him. Swallowing, you lay a hand on his chest. “Simon.”

This is different than before, different than when you dealt with Gaz. Your heart is beating out of your chest, and you could almost throw up from nerves. So far, you’ve done well at putting your emotions aside during situations like this, but not now. Not when it’s the man you love.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, it just doesn’t make sense. Not with your team’s experience and expertise, their strength and comradery; how did you find yourselves here? Each member was chosen for a specific reason, the best Price could get. Is that true? Have you really done your best?

Lifting his head slightly, Simon looks in your direction. And what you see is haunting. One eye swollen, the other filling with red. His left arm is distorted, both legs twisted in ways that aren’t human. There’s barely anything left of his right thigh, but that’s not where the biggest injury is. Looking up, you see that it’s on his head.

“Simon.” Shuffling forward, your eyes widen, hands immediately reaching for his head.

Crimson warmth soaks the side of his mask, a small indent visible. He has definite brain damage, and your heart sinks at that fact. What will he be like after this?

“Let me help.” You’re whispering to yourself, mainly, because you assumed he’d let you. But he protests.

“No,” His voice is still low and gruff, trying to continue being the brave man he knows he can be.

“I have gauze, and blood clotting agents.” Turning you shuffle through your pack, retrieving a fresh pair of latex gloves.

Immediately, you’re dousing him in a cool saline solution, watching his body writhe softly from it. But before wrapping any of his wounds, you focus on his head first. Leaning forward, your hands swipe across the hard skull covering his face, sloppily wiping away the blood and dirt. But your actions become frantic, fingers sliding over your lover’s face in an attempt to see him again, to look into his eyes despite this misfortune. Simon listens to your gasps and pants, emotional huffs spilling from your lips. In your panicked state, the gloves break. And in any other setting, you'd care about this cross-contamination. But you don’t even hesitate. The mud sticks to your fingers, Simon’s blood caking beneath your nails as you continue to clean him. Seeing him laid out like this, body free of any movement, any sort of intention, it’s pulling at your soul. It’s not him, he’s leaving you.

“I need to see.”

He just ignores you, right hand reaching down toward his belt. It’s the only limb that hasn’t been mutilated, and he uses it to detach his mags. Moving as best he can, he hands them to you, round after round of bullets without a single word leaving his lips. And what really breaks you, what finally does you in, is the sound of him gurgling quietly on his own liquid insides. It’s now that every emotion breaks free, every single feeling you’d been bottling up and pushing aside, each one obliterates the firm dam of your determination and pride.

“Here.” He grunts, “Ammo.”

“Stop.” It’s all you can say because if you speak any more, you’re sure you’ll just embarrass yourself.

“Bones.” He states firmly, the eye not swollen shut staring up at you with… something. He’s thinking.

“Stop, Simon.”

“Please.” He pleads with you quietly, watching the first tear roll down your face.

“Simon… let me see, let me help.” Reaching forward again, you watch the rise and fall of his chest, you watch as it slows. He was right, the lungs give everything away.

Squirming, his head turns to the side. “Simon, please. I need to - I need to take off your mask.”

The pain he’s experiencing is at a level he’s not felt in quite some time. His insides burn, feeling stiff around the shrapnel penetrating his muscle. And the injury to his head is making him feel fuzzy. Every time he looks up at you, you are surrounded by a black fog. His vision is leaving him, but he still sees you.

A burst of memory overcomes him when he turns back in your direction, forcing breath after painful breath into his lungs. Replacing you is the vision of his mother, beautiful brown curls and dark brown eyes, the very eyes she’d given to him. The child in him wants to reach out, only to see her pull away. In her stead is now his father, fist slamming into him. Her neglect, her absence, while his father abused him like this, it’s all he can really remember. Trauma is funny like that, deciding which memories to banish and which ones to keep. It’s similar to the way he remembers school, the bullying, the loneliness that always seemed to chase his very being. Life was never something to be enjoyed, just motions to move through.

But then he met you, and you made life exciting. Exciting in a way that wasn’t dangerous, exciting in a way that made him feel at home, at peace. Your love, your memories, are what’s most important to him now. The first time you met, the first intimate moment you shared. Smoking together, sleeping together, caring for and protecting each other. Simon can remember a specific moment now, one of his favorites.

“It’s kinda funny,” He’d quirked a brow at you beneath the covering, listening to you continue. “I know you better than your own government documents.”

He’d laughed at this, because you were right.

“Don’t get cocky about it, now.” Simon chastised lightly, eyes crinkling ever so slightly with a hidden smile.

“I wish there was more, though.”

“How do you mean?”

“You do so much, so many important things. There should be more record of you, more details about your life, babe. You’re an impressive man, people should know about that.”

And while your words made his pride swell a little larger, he only sighed. “That’s part of the job, sweets. Anonymity.”

Smiling, you leaned forward, slinking your arms around his neck. “Maybe, but not to me.” Kissing the tip of his nose, you whispered, “You’ll always be important to me.”

Simon never planned on being remembered. There was no one he was willing to give that burden to. But, selfishly, he wants to be remembered by you.

“Baby,” When your voice cracks, Simon blinks, those dark eyes watching the flow of your silent tears. “Please let me.”

And he thinks, how is she going to remember me like this? A man without a face? And so, he decides to give this to you. There’s nothing left to lose. He knows you’re taking it off to help him, but he’s allowing it for different reasons; call it a parting gift.

When he doesn’t respond this time, your fingers find the edge of his mask. With a great amount of hesitancy, they curl beneath the dampened fabric, lifting it slowly. One by one, each feature is revealed. His chin and jawline, his lips, all traits you’ve seen and openly admired many times before. But then there’s his nose, something you’ve never seen in its entirety. There’s a deep scar running right across the bridge of it, cutting down into his cheek. And as you continue on, you can barely handle the violent thump of your heart’s beat.

Finally, the fabric falls from his head, revealing to you his identity, Simon’s true self.

Surprisingly, you smile. His hair is blonde, straight and not too long. Absentmindedly, you lift a hand, fingers stroking carefully through the messy strands. A laugh leaves you, some sort of twisted happiness found in this moment. And then your eyes lower, finding his steadfast gaze. Languidly, he blinks, blonde lashes fanning over his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” He admits, coughing. “I’m sorry it had to be like this, seeing me.”

“You’re so perfect.” Leaning further in, your hands cup his face. He doesn’t even mind the tears that drip down onto his skin. “Simon.”

“Just know that I do…” Trailing off, Simon shakes his head, releasing an emotional breath. “Love you.”

“I love you,” Releasing any sense of restraint, you express, “I love you more than anything.”

You’re choosing not to look at his head because you know it's bad, you know it. And there’s nothing you can do for him with what you have. He needs more than saline and wraps for this.

“So,” Grunting, he again lifts his right hand. “Think you’ll be needing this.”

With a harsh yank, he rips one of the circular metals from the chain around his neck. And your heart sinks, pulse thumping in your ears. As best he can, he reaches across his body, holding it out for you.

“Give it to Price.”

“That’s not how this is going to end.”

“And then,” Continuing about his task, Simon sets the silver coin on your lap. “You can keep the other.”

“Simon.”

“It’s not much but, if you want to remember me…”

“Simon Riley.” You want him to stop talking like this, you’d do anything to stop this.

Barely, he nods, a single shift of his head as he tells you gruffly, “Yours.”

His eyes stay open until the life seemingly leaves, stare going blank mere seconds after that promise. Without thinking, your fingers curl around the identification sitting in your lap, your other hand still holding his handsome face. But it then leaves, nails digging into the mask lying beside him as your head drops, hanging loosely over your chest. A guttural sob is then released, your insides tearing you open and leaving you emotionally defenseless. Sucking in a thick gulp of air, you know what you need to do. Preserving Simon’s dignity and anonymity, you slide the mask over him again, hiding his face from the enemy. And from you, once again.

Simon,

I still wear your dog tags tag, I never take it off. It stays beneath my shirt when I sleep, when I go to work. It’s cold, like your mask. I still don’t know where that is, Price won’t tell me. But I stole your cologne, they didn’t get that. I think that would make you laugh. You used to make me laugh.

I don’t know what to do now, or where to go. I just think of you.

Strangely, it helps. You know he’ll never write back, but that’s not really the point. This is about you, and it does help… sometimes. Although, Simon never believed in an afterlife, you’re not writing to anyone. This was just something a therapist on base suggested, an exercise to help with your grief. Words you’ve begged life itself to say to him, to be able to speak to him again.

At times, you’re angry. With yourself and with him. You were a distraction, Johnny knew it, Price probably knew it. You did this to him. And at the same time, your extended mourning is his doing, too. He didn’t give you anything, not a burial site to visit, no ashes to keep. Nothing that allows you to visit him, or at least visit his memory. Simon always wanted to be cremated, have his ashes scattered who knows where. Nowhere important, somewhere to forget. He didn’t get the chance to change these plans after meeting you, though, and he’d regret that.

The funeral was small, smaller than it should have been considering he died in battle and with honors. There was no way of avoiding a celebration, though, no matter how much he’d protested to it in life. But if there was one thing Simon definitely wanted, it was to be as far away from Manchester as possible; he never wanted to go back there. And with each of you carrying his casket on your shoulders, you made sure of that. He was honored on the training field back at base, body tucked away in a coffin before being cremated. The ceremonial move of the reversed arms was performed, your heads bowed in respect. It was only the four of you with him, the closest thing to family he’d ever really known. The Union Flag covered the finished pine, and you thought, how many more layers of fabric would keep you from seeing him?

Taking your newest letter, you get to your designated Jeep and drive. Every time, you go back to your secret little spot, the place where you’d connected so many times. You even sit in the backseat, the one behind the driver’s side. That’s where you always sat with him.

The stare you give this hand-written note might as well burn holes into it, the edge of your cigarette threatening to do so if your eyes don’t. Packs of nicotine laced joints have found their way to you quite often since Simon’s death, more and more every day. It tastes like him, his lips.

Sometimes, late at night, the boys still hear you cry. You try to do most of it in the shower, drowning out your tears with the louder noise. Throughout the day, you’ll keep it inside, and they’ve all noticed. You’re blank, rendered nearly emotionless as you move through the motions of each day.

But what’s more important during the night, is him. If you drink enough, you can see him - you swear it. His eyes staring down at you, blinking, body laying beside you on the bed. He holds you. He’ll kiss the back of your neck, tell you I do, I love you. His palm presses to your own, fingers intertwining before he pulls it to him, covered lips moving to the back of your hand. Everything is a memory, but you refuse this. Simon loves you, he comes back just to tell you. You’ll always be thankful you told Simon that you love him.

Johnny takes a sudden special interest in you. For weeks, he hesitates to approach your door when he hears you cry. But he finally caves when he passes by the washrooms one night, a night where the boys have gone for a drink and the base is all but empty.

Initially, he thought you were hurt. With how hard you were sobbing, breaths tight and airy, he was sure you were injured. Bursting through the doors, he found you on the ground of one of the shower stalls.

“Lass, wha - ”

But there was nothing, no blood, no broken glass or anything that could have brought you harm. And then, he sees it, the pile of your personal belongings. Your shower bag and towel are sitting on the closest bench, with a few items scattered on the floor. And Johnny doesn’t know much about pregnancy, but he knows a test when he sees one.

“Bones…”

“He’s fucking gone,” Your voice is hoarse from your wailing, form crumpled and laying on the wet tile while water sprays over you. “Why couldn’t he have left me something? Anything?!”

It’s negative.

In a last attempt to save something, to preserve any part of him, you’d taken the test. Several, actually. But it’s futile; there’s truly nothing left of him.

How could you feel so fucking empty? So lost? What was the meaning of life now? What was the meaning before you met him? There was nothing before him.

Johnny picked you up off the floor that night, leaning in to first turn off the shower before bending at the knees to wrap you in your towel. You let him carry you; with the break in your heart you didn’t really have much strength left in you. So, you leaned on him, walking with his steps as he guided you back to your room. And he dried you, dressed you, and then he held you.

Nothing was discussed, you didn’t speak about it, him. He just sat there on your bed with you, arms wrapped tight around your body, heaving chests pressed against each other as Soap’s eyes spilled over with tears, too. He let you bury your face into his neck, fingers pulling at the edges of his mohawk. It overtakes you, the grief. The all consuming power of it floods your body, greedy in its conquest as it watches you crumble in defeat.

Johnny made this promise weeks ago, not exactly sure when but he knows it’ll hold true. He’s made a silent vow to Simon; he’ll take care of you.

For a while, you refuse to let Johnny sleep in your room. He had nowhere to rest but your bed and that extra space was for Simon. But then he offered to sleep on the floor one night, admitting quietly that it wasn’t just for you. It was for him, too. So, you let him keep you company, opening up and giving in to your collective misery.

Johnny watched the way you curled up with your pillows, watched your face scrunch as you twisted and turned, trying to find some form of sleep. It only came when your hand found your chest, clutching Simon’s last bit of identification.

Your sergeant found comfort in reading, in literature and even poetry. Some written by war veterans and forever-changed soldiers. One poem in particular spoke to him, and he wanted to give it to you. And for some reason, it offered you incredible solace; it so deeply reminds you of Simon.

If I should die, think only this of me:

That there’s some corner of a foreign field

That is for ever England. There shall be

In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;

A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,

Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam;

A body of England’s, breathing English air,

Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,

A pulse in the eternal mind, no less

Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;

Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;

And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,

In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

Rupert Brooke

Waking up is difficult, but getting out of bed is actually pretty easy. It’s only because you've been running on auto-pilot, relying on your routines to keep you moving. Johnny said it’s good for you, consistency, and he’s right. He’s really helped keep you together these past few months. At times, Simon helps, but there’s only so much he can do.

The nightmares come and go, and so do the terrors. You’ll wake up in a cold sweat, hyperventilating with tears running down your face and neck. But more often than not, it’s pure psychological torture. The nightmares occur far more often, and you know what? The meaning behind them is true. Some awful creature sitting on your chest, pressing down onto your body so you’re unable to breathe properly, staring at your face as its intentions wriggles inside your head, creating hellscapes you never otherwise could have imagined. That’s exactly what it feels like, it’s exactly what you go through.

Psychologists define it as post-traumatic stress, and you’ve come to accept that. At first, you’d tell them every detail, every new event. The occurrence of you taking a pregnancy test, that’s a new predicament, a new attempt at preserving him. Maybe one day, it’ll be positive. Nevertheless, you don’t tell them as much anymore. It’s all the same, anyway.

There have been some changes recently, mainly toward the medical rooms. Courtesy of Captain Price, you’ve been given a private office. The room you’d been in originally, the one that overlooked the training yard, is now solely used for training-related events. Sprains and torn muscles, extra ice packs and wraps, water bottles and energy packs. Quick things for the boys to grab.

Where do the injured men and women go?

Now, you have a full infirmary. One hall with several beds and then four private rooms for those with longer stays, too. That’s where you’re headed today, room number three, specifically.

Tying your hair back and washing your face gives you the appearance of alertness, something you desperately need. Quite often, you find yourself lacking sleep. It also helps to not have sticky, tear-stained cheeks. You’re not sure when that will subside, but you’re not expecting it to happen anytime soon. Overwhelming emotions find you even when in his company.

After breakfast and an entire bottle of water, you make your way to the hospital wing, readying yourself for the day’s work. It shouldn’t be too difficult, though; things are looking up. But before leaving the mess hall, you grab an extra orange. Simon always loved those.

It’s quiet here, something you really love. It gives everyone the opportunity to focus on rest. Which is exactly why you open the door so quietly, peaking in to make sure you didn’t wake him. But he’s already up.

“Bones,”

“Hi, baby.”

The fruit in your hand is quickly made known, Simon’s reflexes ever-present. His right hand catches it with ease, setting it down on his lap so he can lift his mask.

“I can help, you know.”

“Uh-uh,” Already, he’s lifting it to his mouth and biting into the skin with his teeth. Using this method, he peels it.

“Savage.”

“Inventive.” He corrects, “That’s what you mean.”

It’s early still, and you’re the only one making rounds to him. You’ve given the remaining tasks in the hospital wing to your employees - you’re here for him. And so, you swing your chair over to his bedside, sitting and leaning forward to rest your arms and head beside him.

The hospital bedding has been shifted upward, allowing him to sit up as he eats. He’s shirtless, in nothing but boxers and his mask, with two dog tags on his chest.

“How are you?”

“Hungry as hell.”

“They didn’t feed you?!” Sitting up, you immediately become appalled and enraged.

“Sit down, soldier.” Simon laughs, shaking his head. “They fed me.”

“And you’re still hungry?” With a smirk, you raise a brow at him as he just shrugs. A sigh then leaves your shaking head. “Growing boy.”

“Yeah, thanks to all this.” He’s still grumpy about it, how could he not be? “Have to regrow an entire damn body.”

He’s being dramatic, but… not really.

Quietly, you admire him, allowing your love to eat in silence. You’re both used to it, the peaceful calm surrounding your interactions. It was something you always agreed on; why have meaningless conversation when you can just enjoy each other’s presence?

His arm is wrapped, and both legs. The best surgeons the military could find enabled him to keep all four limbs, a true godsend. He hasn’t been able to move them much, though, as he’s only just started physical therapy. Easy movements for now, just wiggling fingers and toes. There’s also the task of his cognitive therapy, mainly exercises for focus and short-term memory. It’s been difficult, to say the least, but you’ve been with him through it, been to every appointment and therapy session.

“You’re quiet.” He notes, still snacking.

Timidly, you nod, not searching for his gaze. And at this he sighs, notes of sympathy in his breath. He knows what’s bothering you.

“More dreams?” Simon asks quietly, staring down at the woman he loves.

Simply, you nod, tears welling in your eyes all over again.

Simon’s recovery has been difficult, and for everyone involved. It took quite a few weeks of convincing both Price and your doctors that you were fit to care for him. Your mental state was just… shattered. And you’re still picking up the pieces.

“Baby,” The way he says it makes your heart jolt with emotion, with an incredible sense of longing. It’s spoken so softly, so sweetly, that deep voice rumbling kindly. And just like always, it’s successful in requesting your attention. “What happened?”

Wiping his hand on the bedsheets (he knows they’ll be changed anyway), he reaches for you. Just like before, in the painful memory of your dreams, his fingers intertwine with yours, palm pressing to your own while dragging it up to his lips. And then he presses them to the back of your hand, eyes focusing on you.

“Talk to me.”

“You died,” Finally giving in, you speak. You’ve done this many times, and it’s never easy. But Simon insists that talking about these dreams will help. “Again.”

“Hm.” He nods, humming thoughtfully, giving you room to speak.

“Your funeral, ya know, the basics.” Rolling your eyes, you groan. These nightmares are everything you despise, everything you fear. “Johnny was there, too. I smoked a lot, just to remind myself of you. Wore your dog tag, held it at night. And that’s when you’d visit me; I had visions of you, Si. Laying in my bed, holding me, telling me you love me.”

“I do.”

“I know you do.” Lifting your head, your genuine smile is displayed to him. “I, um… I took a pregnancy test in this one.”

“That’s new.”

“I know. It was negative though, and it was so heartbreaking. I just… wanted to preserve any part of you.”

The way your voice wavers forces his muscles to tighten, discomfort wreaking havoc on his body. Seeing you like this fucking breaks him. That mission should’ve never even happened, but at least it was successful in the end.

“I’m here, though, love. I’m still here.”

He knows not sleeping next to each other has been one of the biggest issues for you. Feeling his weight, it was a comforting thing that easily lulled you to sleep. And his absence often brought on these terrifying dreams.

“I know, baby.” Nodding, you sniffle, doing your best to not release your silent weeps. He’s right, he’s here. Everything is alright, you’re both healing and you’re together. That’s all that matters now.

Contemplating his next decision, Simon grunts, sitting up straighter on his bed. Releasing your hand, he then reaches for your chin. Your lips bloom into a smile as he tilts your head up toward him, his lips, jawline, and chin visible to you. And Christ, how you wish you could see more. You can vaguely remember his face, the features he showed you before what he was sure was certain death. But it’s traumatic to recall it, and he’s refused to show himself to you ever since. The injury to his brain has made him… insecure, in a way. He hasn’t even kissed you since all of it.

“Have a surprise for ya.” He then reveals, smacking his lips while swallowing the last bit of fruit available to him.

“Really?” Doubt laces your tone. What could he have possibly done for you in this condition?

“C’mup here.” Simon grins, pulling you in. Standing, you shift your position, now sitting on the edge of his bed.

“What is it?” Giggling, you eye him suspiciously. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

Clearing his throat, Simon looks down, taking his hand away as he grabs the edges of his mask. You assume he’s going to pull it back down, now that he’s finished eating his morning snack. But you’re wrong, eyes widening as he does the exact opposite of that.

Jaw dropping entirely, you stare in awe as he removes the soft skull, slowly sliding the black fabric from his head. It brushes through his hair, eyelids lowered as he refuses to meet your gaze for the briefest second. He knows he looks different than before, hair still trying to grow back in the spot of his injury. There’s a new cut that runs down his face, too, the upper left side of his temple. But he should know you don’t care about any of that, he’s hoping you don’t, anyway.

And when he looks back up into your eyes, he can see a profound sense of love. Love and adoration, determination, true friendship and connection.

“Miss me?” The cheeky bastard, lips pulled into a grin with his blonde hair disheveled and looking cute as all hell. But more importantly, his hair is clean, so much cleaner than the first time you’d seen him, no longer stained red and pink.

“You fucker,” Shaking your head, you lean in, holding his face and pressing your forehead to his.

Simon audibly winces when his arms move, small grunts of frustration spilling from him. His right arm easily wraps around your body, firmly pulling you in. But his left barely budges, and it’s so embarrassing to him. But his struggles pause when you shift, lips pressing to his and melting away every single unpleasant sensation. It’s a distraction, you’re a fucking distraction. But it’s a good thing this time.

“You know I did.”

The moment is broken when a knock sounds at the door, and you can’t hop off his bed fast enough. Moments later, Price walks in, a stack of documents in his hand.

“Captain.” You greet, standing straight for him and trying not to look suspicious.

Unmoving on the bed, Ghost just nods. “Price.”

“Good,” John steps forward, “You’re both here. Give these a look for me.”

Watching him drop the papers onto your desk, you frown. “What are those?”

“HR documents,” He begins, staring at the stack before turning his attention to both of you. “For workplace relationships.”

Your face couldn’t feel hotter.

He then points a finger at the pair of you, stating firmly, “Sign ‘em.” Before turning to leave.

Well, there’s no hiding it now.

#Simon Riley #Simon “Ghost” Riley #Simon Riley x you #Simon Riley x reader #Simon Riley x female reader #Call of Duty #Call of Duty mw2 #Call of Duty fanfiction

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boyfhee · 7 months ago

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jay is the husband who would bring you a flower a day, searching what each flower mean 🥺 fuck it, i cant have him but you can.

thanks, you can definitely give me more tips for counselling hehe. i don't know if she will take bipc but she says i will cause one day she tell, ill take arts amd commerce other day ill take mec and other day, polytechnic haha like she chamges it everyday so i really cant tell.

but she is studying in 10th so, a few more months and she will decide what is good for her. the fact that there will be no boards for the coming 10th students 😔 why were we born in the 2000's era caelin? why?

i dont think you will faint in faint of the cadaver, i have seen dissection videos on youtube before i join pcm so, i know the courage it takes to stand near it and do it + when you sleep alone at night, what if it haunts you 😭 nooo, i am done for sure.

since i am an ENGINEERing student, can't talk about it but i will always talk medicine with you. please share me what you learn sometimes caelin, ok? hope your medicine years will go smoothly <3

i got into kpop early 2020, day before bts on comeback 😁 i never knew what were comebacks or debut or contents etc etc. until i started stanning bts. and then enhypen since the day their profiles were released 🤧 i saw my bois grow, you cant ask me how i suffered. eggies will definitely cry if you ask them about iland.

what groups did you stan during your early kpop days??? and what kdramas or anime were your firsts?? i am 17 so it's okay if i interact with you right?? i saw your carrd too, but asking again 😌

anyway, goodnight caelin, hope you meet jay in your dreams. tell me if you guys got married or not :0 and when you see this, it will be morning so happy morning <33 and happy bakhrid.

— lover clun anon ^3^

im tweaking please stop . literally wanted to write a jay fic as we speak, but i have no motivation to write these days TT

OMG tenth graders are like that !!! my brother is also in tenth and one day he wants to go in soft engineering and the other, astrophysics or lawyer, it's a mess. he hates bio though, so med is definitely not an option for him :"> AND NO BOARDS FOR TENTH ANYMORE ? god hates me. out batch felt so experimental tbf :/

i love watching dissection / surgery videos, but what if i can't stand the smell ㅠㅠ gna sleep at night after reciting hanuman chalisa bruv o_o also my cousin is a dentist and she told be about a dream she had where he was running away from a huge jaw ?? chasing after her ?? it was a couple days before her finals lmfao

and i would love to hear you talk about engineering too :D not that i know a lot, but maybe this is my chance to expand my knowledge >< i will surely tell you what i learn ( was revising thorax anatomy yesterday btw ) hope engineering treats you well mwah

ohh omg i used to stan bts ! like around blood, sweat and tears era ?? it lasted till they they dropped idol i think ? and then it felt like their music changed drastically so i stopped listening to them, but i do have a few new songs that i like, mostly solo works that too of jk only TT i have a v bad habit of not listening to new songs for some reason

actually, two of my friends gushed about iland, but i was never into survival shows so i just listened to them and hyped them up but never focused on it. then i saw that sunghoon was debuting as an idol— i knew him since he was a figure skater, but that still didn't convince me to check them out lmfao TT but i came across fever one day and i'm telling you, i listened to it for weeks straight before even bothering to check the group out hehe ( _ _; ) even though i haven't watched iland, i've seen clips and that gave me an idea of how the show was

my first kpop group was exo ! i stanned bts shortly after, and then was introduced to nct, then svt, now enhypen. although i have been a casual listener to a lot of groups, esp ggs. and the only ggs i've ever stanned are formis and aespa >< my first kdrama was suspicious partner, i love it so much :D the chemistry is so good ++ it has a mystery element so i love it even more. and first anime was haikyuu TT i love them sm, it's truly my comfort show

now tell me about you :O your first kdrama, anime, first bias, how did you come across kpop, do you collect albums / merch— anything !

ps i didn't meet jay in my dreams ( for some reason, whenever i have enha dreams they're super weird and the boys try to kill me most of the time ) i had a nice sleep nonetheless, hope u did too ! eid mubarak to you as well ^_^

#⠀ㅤㅤㅤ⠀ㅤㅤㅤsecrets & 𝒽er ฅ ฅ : lover club anon

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absolutebl · 4 years ago

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This Week in BL

April 2021 Part 4

it’s my birthday week! *raises a glass of pink milk*

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Second Chance Ep 4 - oh noes my babies are all so sad! Teen angst for the win. Tropes included: crying in shower, a very significant hand hold, & striped shirts. (At this point over half the cast has been in stripes.)

Love Machine Ep 1 - not gonna lie, I barely made it through the first half, this is a short run LOW budget experimental web series and it’s not good. Dropped.

Lovely Writer Ep 9 - I like it when LW gets serious because there are fewer dumb sound effects, but oof Aey, poor baby. How many Aeys have I known over the years? Rejected, broken, angry, lonely, and lashing out. On a different note, I haven’t see the “sex drug made us do it” plot device since 1980s Johanna Lindsey. Props to that cocktail rearing its ugly head. (yeh yeh) ZOMBIE TROPE ALERT. (Is this the point where I remind the world at a-play doesn’t have to hurt? Well, it doesn’t! Toys, prep, and lube people. Sheesh.) Anygay, zombie trope is put safely back underground. Please don’t let it rise again? (I KNOW, I’ll stop now.) So this was a rough episode, especially the back end. (Okay now I’ll REALLY stop.) Seriously tho, BL doesn’t do a massive coming out family drama scene often. I liked LW’s handling of this one. Hard to watch but compelling.

Close Friend Ep 1 (OhmFluke) - very cute snapshot into a LTR featuring an overworked music producer and his student BF. That’s the chassis for this whole series, each one has to do with the song & is a portrayal of that song’s message. Essentially, the theme of this one was remembering to make time for your partner. I enjoyed that. OhmFluke gave us easy casual familiar affection and a kiss, but no BL tropes, just romance.

Fish Upon The Sky Ep 3 - Pi is a total spazz & the ghost story bit was... well, it was something wasn’t it? Lots of tropes: fixing his clothes, wound tending, drag baby around, piggyback, head in lap, hand hold, and ending on a drunk kiss. I just noticed Pi uses guu/mueng with Mork, but Mork’s a year older. (So I have a new entry onto the linguistic brats list.) So rude and presumptuous. Also I gotta say this, don’t wear watches when you’re working on a cadaver, mmky boys?

Y-Destiny Ep 4 - look MaxNat have great chemistry, this ep had loads of great tropes (e.g. cheek kiss, rooftop, public claiming via phone), it’s not their fault I’m just not wild about these characters. I do like Nuea’s wanna-be idol wardrobe though. And Sun is sporting the red bag version of Tharn’s black bag that I wanted so bad in TT2. (I wonder if I can score a knock off when I’m over there?) Regardless, I basically grinned all the way through this installment, so that’s another thumbs up from me for Y-Destiny. Who knew I’d come around? Man would I love to see these two get their own series.

Brothers Ep 12 - teacher/student exposed! But the power of boys on phones will overcome all. No KhunKaow for me, so of course I found this ep tragically disappointing.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

HIStory 4: Close To You (Taiwan) Ep 6 - MuRen is officially a yaoi manga character in the flesh. H4′s outright mockery/subversion of tropes “don’t touch him he’s mine,” + “touch my lip & think of kissing” makes the fact that other (way more damaging) tropes are being blithely utilized without critique almost - dare i say it? - insulting. YongJie is trash but I’m the one who feels like trash because I want to forgive him. How aptly abusive & dysfunctional we all are. I don’t know whether to applaud H4 or start drinking. (Maybe this is the show I should invent a cocktail for? Who am I kidding? This is totally a jello shots show.)

Friend or Lover (Taiwan) Ep 2 - I thought this was only a microfilm but turns out it’s a web series. It’s cute. I’m enjoying it.

My Lascivious Boss (Vietnam) Ep 3 - subs take a while to drop but it’s still better than average. I like a secret identity trope, I love a grumpy/sunshine pairing, and the side couple is great but this ep was slow. With only 6 total (I assume) they better get the main couple together next ep or the improved quality of this series will be sacrificed on the alter of pacing issues.

Word of Honor (China) Ep 28-30 - slowed down to focus on bad guys (yawn...ooo Scorpion...yawn again). Then baby gets kidnapped, other baby goes crazy, and old friends turn up. We end on DOOM because mathematically this was an episode 11. All boxes checked.

Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding (Korea) Ep 3-4 - how is this show SO DAMN CUTE & weirdly wholesome at the same time? Another one of those: Will Korea resolve this satisfactorily in 4 short eps? But I seem to say that half way through every Korean BL. These days, I have complete faith. Warm fuzzies for everyone.

Stand Alones

Color Rush movie is the same as the series. There is a stinger at the VERY end (untranslated) but which I’m assuming has something to do with the missing mother. Is this a possible indication of a 2nd season? Hopefully someone will eng sub the stinger and post it out into the universe. So yeah, Color Rush movie = To My Star style, sadly, not Wish You. That said, I did enjoy watching with different subs. The first version I watched was fan subbed, and they were better on English colloquialisms. Viki’s subs are better on Korean colloquialisms.

Breaking News

Bunch of new press on Thailand’s I Told the Sunset About You 2 AKA I Promised You the Moon. Here’s a master post on the subject with all the links you could ever want. It will start airing May 27th 8 pm (Thai time) on LINETV.

New Thai Bl Golden Blood got a teaser trailer. Stars familiar side dish Gun Napat (Techno from LBC) as a rich kid who needs a bodyguard. Yeah, it looks to be the Thai version of Where Your Eyes Linger which is FINE. I love me a bodyguard romance. DO EETTT Thailand. Trailer contains ALL the tropes: dry his hair, piggyback, cooking together, and more, plus good smooches. It looks GREAT. Also cheeper to make then KinPorsche and it might get funded due to of residual enthusiasm. Also GOOD TITLE.

Close Friend got another teaser trailer this one for Talay & Yoon (no subs).

Taiwan has a new BL coming out... eventually. Looks to be a new franchise like the HIStory series with different couple(s) each season. It’s the first Taiwanese BL from a major in-country network. The first installment is titled Be Loved in House: I Do (seriously Taiwan, could we talk about your titles?). It stars a familiar face, Aaron Lai from HIStory: My Hero. It’s a grumpy/tsundere boss/employee office-set BL with some forced proximity to push them together. (Nods to Japan.) No release date, but (unlike Thailand) Taiwan usually doesn’t make announcements without content & serious intent.

Gossip

Taiwanese BL NOVEL Miracle dropped a trailer, no subs or translation. According to YouTube comments it was supposed to be part of HIStory3 but MODC took on its slot. Still it’s kinda fun to see what might have been.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Some shows may be listed later than actual air date for International accessibility reasons.

Upcoming 2021 BL master post here.

Links to watch are provided when possible, ask in a comment if I missed something.

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parvulous-writings · 3 years ago

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Murders // Alex Law x Reader

Request: Hi! I have a request: I just recently watched a shallow grave and I’m obsessed with ewan mcgregor as Alex Law. Could you write something where he tells you about the murders because he feels like he can trust you, he also may or may not be in love with you. We love angst. Thanks!

Requested by: Anon

Summary: the request

Warnings: mentions of death, homicide, cadavers. Slightly ooc Alex?

Words: 1.6K

Notes: Mmmm Alex Law. That is all. My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

Not my gif

Things with Alex had been, well they’d been strange over the past couple of weeks or so. You didn’t know what it was, but he kept trailing after you wherever you went in the flat; not in his usual way, which was often to pester or tease you, but for another reason. You had no idea what that reason was, but you could tell it was bothering him. Sometimes he would glance up, only briefly, but you would catch it out of the corner of your eye. You tried to bring it up to him on several occasions, but he would always brush it off, saying that he was fine, and then “What the hell are you talking about? I told you I’m fine. Really. Just leave it.” But no matter how annoyed he sounded with you, he wouldn’t stomp off like he often used to. It always seemed to get worse whenever David was in the room with you. Alex would tense up, and his eyes would be trained solely on his glasses-clad roommate. David would occasionally stare back, but very few words were ever said between the two of them.

Tonight, though, was different. You were sat with Alex on the lime green sofa, more laying than anything, his arm draped over your shoulder, eyes on the TV as one of Alex’s favourite schlocky shows played on the screen. He was mumbling quietly along with the host, laughing softly when the audience did. Things seemed almost normal, it was nice. You couldn’t see or feel his tenseness anymore, which allowed you to relax ever so slightly beside him, you head falling back on to his arm as you watched whatever it was Alex had put on, you still didn’t know what it was. But it was making him happy- he even dropped a few of his sassy and sometimes crude comments throughout the show’s runtime. As the show started to draw to a close, Alex shuffled a little bit. The tenseness returned, and the silence between you became almost unbearably awkward. He cleared his throat, and you moved to sit up for a moment. You glanced over at the clock- it was half past ten, fairly late. You’d need to head off soon if you wanted to be home before eleven, or lower the risk of getting jumped in the street. “Do you want to stay over?” He asked you, and you give him a rather surprised look. It wasn’t the first time that Alex had invited you to stay over at the flat, but it was more his tone that caught you off-guard. Usually his voice was dripping with a flirty undertone, suggesting a much more intimate activity than just sleeping in the flat. This time, though, it seemed more genuine- staying over seemed to be the primary thing on his mind. “Sure,” You nonchalantly agree, shrugging slightly before you settled back down in his arm. You both fall silent again, awkwardly watching as the TV droned on and on, though it was unclear if either of you two were really paying attention to the show being broadcasted.

Alex cleared his throat again, catching your attention. “Can I ask you a question?” His voice is quiet, “Hypothetically?” You weren’t unaccustomed to Alex’s ‘hypothetical’ questions. They were often a point of contention or the root of teasing, but it was all in good fun. “Alright then. Hit me with it.” You say to him- he swallows his nerves and starts to speak again. “If a someone you knew told you that they had been involved in burying a man out in the woods, and was involved in killing a couple more... What would you do?” Silence falls between the pair of you again as you start to think. Like most of his questions, it was an odd one, borderline insane to be precise. You just put it as his over-active imagination making him think of wild scenarios. “I don’t know.” You chuckle, shrugging lightly. You’re not sure whether to answer honestly, or playfully. “What kind of answer do you want, Alex?” “A proper one. Like... A serious one.” Oh, well that was different. “Okay...” You trail off, thinking it over for a second. “Well, I’d probably leave, and tell the police.” You shrug, thinking nothing of it. This wasn’t the answer Alex wanted though. “What if it was me?” He asked you, and you gave him an odd look in reply. “I’d still do that, Alex... Just because you’re my friend doesn’t put you above the law.” This seemed to unnerve and annoy him even more though. “Don’t look at me like that!” You tell him, “You’re the one who wanted a serious answer, and you got one!”

Alex paused, though only very briefly. “Yeah, I guess...” He grumbled, but he still didn’t seem very happy. You gave him an odd look. “What the hell has gotten into you?” You asked him, “You’ve been acting weird for weeks!” “I’ve got a lot on my mind.” He’s started to shut down, to put a wall between the two of you, as he pulled his arm away from you. “Nevermind, forget I said anything.” He muttered, rather spitefully, as he rested his cheek on the knuckles of his balled fist. This had not gone the way he had hoped. If you didn’t react the way he thought you would at the hypothetical- how would you react to the truth? He may have been slightly delusional, but that didn’t occur or matter to him. “Well, you want to talk about it?” You offered, trying to be a little bit soften than you had been a few moments prior. “No.” Came his short, pointed reply. He started to move to try and get up from the sofa, but you held out an arm to stop it. “Oh, what now?” He whined. “We finished the conversation, just let me go, will you?” “No- clearly there’s something actually bothering you; you can tell me. I’m your friend, that’s what friends do, isn’t it?” You ask him, and he rolled his eyes, huffing back down into his seat. He knew that you were right- but that didn’t stop his nerves from rising. He knew that what he had done was downright wrong- he may not have known or acknowledged it at the time, but now the guilt followed him everywhere. Every corner, it lurked in the shadow, he saw the flickers out of the corner of his eye.

“The question wasn’t hypothetical.” He spoke suddenly, looking into his lap as he wrung his hands. You stayed completely silent, words escaped you. Your mind went blank, and you just stared at him. “I wanted to see what you would do.” “You... You, what?” You were still trying to wrap your head around what he was trying to say to you. He finally looks at you, and his eyes are just... Sad. They hold an almost melancholic look, his hurt surfacing for once. “I wanted to see what you would do... I wanted to tell you.” Alex started to speak again. “Because... Because I think you’re the closest person I have now, and- and I wanted to tell you, because I don’t want to lie anymore, I don’t want anything between us...” “Alex, what did you do?” All of a sudden, you’re hyper-aware of every little movement he makes. Every shallow breath, every blink, every twitch, your brain registered it. Your heart started to race, a sick feeling started to settle in your stomach. As it sunk in that Alex was admitting to having a hand in a murder- whether it was the killing blow or not- you wanted to run, but you were rooted to your seat, paralyzed besides your mouth, which seemed to speak of it’s own accord. “What did you do?” You repeated, sounding much harsher.

“I didn’t kill the second two!” The auburn haired scotsman exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “I didn’t even kill Hugo, that was his own bloody fault!” You vaguely recognised the name Hugo; Alex had mentioned him some months ago, and never brought him up to you again, so you thought nothing of it. “We buried them out in the woods...” He continued, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why are you telling me this, Alex?” “I already told you. You’re all I’ve got, now. Juliet’s shut herself off from everyone, and David... Well that’s best left unsaid.” He murmured, glancing through the doorway to the chipped blue paint of his flatmate’s door. Neither David or Juliet were here with you now, you supposed that that was both a blessing and a curse. “I should call the police.” You mutter, almost fearfully. Alex seems rather hurt at the fear in your voice, and he slowly nods. “They already know about the bodies... But I’m not going to stop you if you want to tell them it was us.” He’s completely given in to you now, his fate is in your hands. Do you really want to turn him in?

No. That was the answer from the most selfish depths of your mind. It’s the answer you decided to stick with, as immoral as it may have been. You look him dead in the eye as you speak. “What do I do?” It takes him a moment to register that you are in fact not going to contact the police about his and his friend’s misdeeds, and he’s instantly sat beside you again. “Stick with me, please. I won’t let either of them get you, I just... I need you around.” Alex said to you, slowly, as if it were difficult to admit this even after admitting his crimes to you. To him, it was. You nodded slowly in response, and Alex silently acknowledged that you may still change your mind on it yet. “Alright.” You whisper. “I’ll stick around.”

#alex law #alex law x reader #shallow grave #shallow grave x reader #Ewan McGregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #requested #requests open #please request

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writingwife-83 · 4 years ago

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Prompt: Retired Sherlolly in the Sussex downs. Lots of fluff

I already made a post about the fact that this ask is worded rudely and this isn’t how you prompt a writer, so I won’t repeat myself here. But I decided to write something to answer this ask basically just because I wanted to post something new for sherlolly anyway and also thought why not clear this out of my inbox while I’m at it? Multi tasking, yknow? Anyway, enjoy this random retirement sherlolly one shot! 🥰

Never Too Old

Sherlock stood from his armchair with a little groan that had become unfortunately habitual. He didn’t like the disappointing reminder that his body was betraying him more and more each day. And perhaps if his life had gone differently, he’d be weighed down with regret in addition to the nagging aches and pains.

But it hadn’t, and he wasn’t.

Just as he’d turned the kettle on, he heard the latch click and Molly’s little smile greeted him as she came through the door.

“Oh good! I’d die for a cuppa,” she sighed, seeing what he was doing in the kitchen.

Her arms were full of books and bags, per usual when she returned from her part time job at the local hospital. It was smaller, but it allowed Molly to continue some pathology work and research. Upon retirement to the country some years ago, and though they both wished to slow down, it also became clear Molly was not unlike Sherlock in the need to keep her mind occupied.

Sherlock circled around from the kitchen to meet her and help take some things out of her arms as she got her shoes off, then meeting her upturned lips for a traditional kiss.

“What’s this then?” he questioned, lifting one of the items she’d been carrying, which was a box that had a conspicuous Human Tissue label on the side. “Do I dare hope?”

“You do indeed,” she confirmed with a proud smile, unwinding her scarf and hanging it up. “There were some cadaver samples being used today, and I was able to get some things signed out to me once we were done. Just a hand, part of a foot, and some toes.”

“Mm, just like the good old days.”

“Except that they won’t be going in our fridge,” Molly commented with a little laugh, heading to the kitchen to tend to the kettle.

No, he supposed that wasn’t exactly how he did things anymore. In fact, part of their permanent move to his parent’s old cottage involved a complete renovation of the basement, turning it into a fully functioning laboratory, complete with all the tools of the trade and a small walk-in freezer for occasional storage, such as this.

Molly clearly saw his enthusiasm and shook her head, tucking some of her short hair behind her ears which was largely shimmery with streaks of silver now. She smiled gently, creating the lines that he’d come to love beside her lips and eyes.

“I just walked in the door! And I’m warming up the rest of that soup and eating first. So are you!” She punctuated that statement with a little glare.

Sherlock sighed. “Oh alright!”

“Go put those samples in the fridge downstairs and then we can eat by the fire. I feel like my feet haven’t quite thawed yet.” Molly scrunched her shoulders in a little shiver.

Sherlock did as he was told, popping up to their bedroom before heading back to the kitchen in order to get Molly’s favorite oversized cardigan. He came up behind her where she stood at the stove and placed the garment on her slight shoulders, prompting her to turn and gaze appreciatively up at him.

“You’re a darling. I was just thinking I wanted this.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s getting too cold for you to keep walking from here to the hospital.”

“Oh, don’t fuss. It keeps me young.”

Seeing as the little sideways glance that Molly gave him was positively girlish, despite her age, Sherlock found it difficult to argue. But he also promised himself he’d be driving her for her shift next week, whether she liked it or not.

Soon, they were settled into their armchairs at either side of the fire, enjoying some warm soup as a bit of soft music played. It was the sort of cozy, quiet evening that might have driven him mad in his twenties or thirties. But now he’d learned to find contentment in the stillness, in a way that he couldn’t in his younger years. Besides, he still found there were plenty of things to keep him busy.

Molly looked up from her last spoonfuls of soup as he put his bowl down. “Be patient. I’ll be done soon.”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She snorted. “You think I can’t read you like a book by now, Sherlock Holmes? I know very well you’re itching to get into the lab.”

Sherlock gazed back at her and a little smile tugged at his lips as he watched her features which were brightened by the firelight. The moment she set her bowl down, he stood and extended his hand.

Molly glanced at his hand and then up at him. “What’s this?”

“Perhaps I was impatient for something else.”

She smiled, her cheeks a little pink as she took his hand and stood, and then Sherlock pulled her in close, swaying to the quiet classical music in the background.

“You’re a sly one,” Molly laughed softly, leaning her cheek against his chest as they slowly moved. “We haven’t had a dance like this in ages.”

“Exactly,” he murmured in agreement. “It’s been too long.”

They stayed like that until the song came to an end, and then Molly stepped away, looking at him in question.

“What?”

“Well?” she prompted. “Aren’t we going to the lab now?”

Sherlock’s eyes brightened. “I wasn’t sure if you were really interested.”

Molly laughed as they headed down the stairs. “For goodness sake, Sherlock! You do remember who you married, don’t you? The day I stop being interested in experiments will be the day I’m the one on the slab.”

“God, I love you,” was genuinely all he could think to say in response to her endearingly morbid quip.

Molly flipped the switch as they reached the bottom of the steps, illuminating their home laboratory as she grinned up at him. “I know you do.”

#sherlolly #retirement sherlolly #total fluff #i just felt like sherlolly needed some attention #cuz it had been a little while

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years ago

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Hi Steph!! I was wondering if you knew of any really long fics (like 25k or more) that are only one chapter, I travel a lot sometimes and some places don't really have good enough internet for multi chapter fics. So yeah, any really long one chapter fics about John and Sherlock would be appreciated. Thank you!

Hey Nonny!!

LOL OKAY FUNNY STORY. I almost replied to this with “oof I’ll have to read EVERYTHING so I’m sorry.... and then... I remembered.......

I put chapter counts on everything 🙃😐

I’m not the brightest crayon in the box. 🖍

Anyway, so yes, I can definitely rec you some fics! BUT I should also offer you two suggestions you can totally do to read ANY fic!

On Ao3, you can click on the “Entire Work” button to load ALL chapters of a fic (it’s the very first button along the top) and in turn you can then just read it all there!

And the very last button along the top, you can Download copies of the fic to your phone or computer with eBook file types (AZw3 for Kindle, ePub for iPhone’s Books app, and MOBI is for other mobile devices and e-readers), the HTML if you want to read it as-is in a web-browser, or the PDF format which is a universal file format that is supported by everything, even web browsers, so it’s a good one to download if you don’t know what format you need :) If you read on an eReader, though, I can’t recommend enough just downloading the format for your device. You get to keep a copy of the fic AND the eReader keeps it nicely formatted. It’s a BRILLIANT, BEAUTIFUL feature that Ao3 gave us, because I like downloading all my fics and read them later in iBooks. Once you start that, Nonny, you can’t do it any other way. AND at the VERY END of the fics, it links BACK to the original post so you can bookmark, kudos, and comment on it!! <3

So yeah, two options you can do to solve your poopy internet and still read long fics hee hee! <3

ANYWAY EXCUSE FOR A NEW LIST LOL.

ALSO, side note, check out @silentauroriamthereal; a large chunk of her fics are both long AND one chapter, so it’s a good place to go and she’s a brilliant author so I don’t think you’ll be disappointed! <3 Plus a lot of her fics are on this list, so I am sorry hahah.

AND I wanted to make the list a bit longer than I had, so I picked fics over 20K, if that’s alright :) As always, if you wrote a 20k+ single chapter fic, let us know!

SINGLE CHAPTER FICS OVER 20K WORDS

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (E, 20,121 w., 1 Ch. || Original Male Character, Sherlock Woos John, Jealous Sherlock, Reluctant Bi-John, Past Abuse, Insecure John, Reassuring / Caring Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Understanding Sherlock) – John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.

The White Lotuses by SilentAuror (E, 20,340 w., 1 Ch. || Slow Burn, Domestic, Romance) – One day John realises that he just isn't where he belongs, which is back at Baker Street with Sherlock. So he goes back and Sherlock, in his own way, courts him. Romance.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

You're On the Air by prettysailorsoldier (M, 20,616 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock, Matchmaking, Radio, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Flirting, Bisexual John) – The Consulting Detective and The Woman dominate the airwaves of their university radio station, doling out advice on everything from meeting the parents to sexual positions. When their ratings start to dip before the holidays, however, manager Mike thinks it's time for some fresh blood, and who better to fill in the gaps than rugby captain--and notorious flirt--John Watson? Part 1 of 25 Days of Johnlock

whiskies neat by Ellipsical (E, 20,660 w., 15 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, POV Second Person Sherlock, Slow Burn, One Night Stand, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal, Soldier John, Crying, Emotional Lovemaking, Switchlock) – Home and hearth and whiskies neat, or, alternatively, Sherlock Holmes falls in love.

Achieving the Together-Coloured Instant by teahigh (E, 20,776 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel, PTSD, Codependency, Fluff & Angst, H/C, Smut, Demisexual Sherlock, Experiments) – John wonders if this is how it’s going to be: A life speaking in code, because they’re both too stupid to figure out how to say, “I love you.”

Winter's Delights by Kate_Lear (E, 21,173 w., 1 Ch. || Holmes Family, Christmas, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Bed Sharing, Domestics) – Sherlock takes John home for Christmas to meet the extended Holmes family. Part 1 of Winter's Delights

Love Is by SilentAuror (E, 21,508 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, UST / URT, Post HLV, Romance) – At Mrs Hudson’s urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him. Part 1 of Love Is

echoes through time by chellefic (E, 21,619 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Romance, ACD & BBC, Epistolary) – Mummy sends a trunk from the Holmes cottage in Sussex to 221B. Its contents alter the way John and Sherlock see themselves and one another.

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

Sonatina in G Minor by SilentAuror (E, 22,574 w., 1 Ch. || Case Fic, POV Sherlock, Angst, UST, Sherlock’s Violin, Post-S3, Romance) – John has come back to Baker Street, but Sherlock doesn't understand the strange tension between them, even after he begins teaching John to play the violin at John's request.

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

26 Pieces by Lanning (E, 28,236 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Torture, First Time, Happy Ending, Schmoop, Past Abuse) – Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn't simple.

The Wisteria Tree by SilentAuror (E, 29,773 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Emotional Love Making, Amnesia/Memory Loss, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Sherlock POV, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Est. Rel., Retirement) – Sherlock wakes up from a month-long coma only to discover that he has no memory of the previous six years to his own shock as well as John's...

Shallow Grave by SilentAuror (E, 31,672 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Angst, HLV Fix It, Infidelity, Pining Sherlock, First Person POV Sherlock) – Starts as Sherlock's plane is taking off at the end of His Last Vow. When he finds out that Moriarty is alive and that he's being recalled from his mission, Sherlock decides that he should have told John how he felt before he left. So he walks off the plane and kisses him.

The Midas Touch by flawedamythyst (E, 32,231 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Magical Realism || John has a Magical Cock, Dub Con, Healer John) – John Watson has a medical condition that means everyone he sleeps with is instantly healed of all illness and injury. This causes complications when Sherlock breaks his arm, and even more complications when Sherlock falls in love with him. Yes, this is a story where John has a literal magic healing cock. It's a lot less cracky than you're probably imagining. Warning: Contains complex issues of sexual consent, although not between Sherlock and John.

The Whore of Babylon Was a Perfectly Nice Girl by out_there (E, 32,897 w., 1 Ch. || Past Drug Use, Blowjobs, Toplock, Mentions of Switching, Rough Sex, Background Cases, Sherlock’s Past, Sherlock’s Sexual History, Experienced Sherlock, Past One Night Stands, Fingering, Cuddling, Possessive Sherlock, Paris Holiday, Bed Sharing, Naked Lie-Ins, Bathing Together, Confessions, Worried Sherlock, Laying in Bed All Day, Meddling Mycroft, Naked Lazy Day) – Sherlock walks into a room and takes all the space right out of it. He does the same inside John's head.

Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish (M, 32,961 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff and Angst, H/C, Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mild Gore, Sherlock Whump) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s 'Heart of Darkness', and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts' now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.

Bedtime Stories by Liketheriver (M, 34,388 w., 1 Ch. || Emotional H/C, Romance, Angst & Humour, Bed Sharing, John First Person, TRF, John Whump) – John's POV during Season 2 and beyond when Sherlock takes up semi-permanent residence in his bed. A collection of codas and missing scenes wrapped up into one long fic and topped with a bow that takes the story beyond Reichenbach and into happy territory once more. Part 1 of Bedtime Universe

The Yellow Poppies by SilentAuror (E, 34,952 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Nightmares, HLV Fix-It, PTSD, Trauma, POV Sherlock, Doctor John) – Sherlock is threatened and assaulted in the hospital immediately after having been shot in the heart, first by Mary, then by Magnussen. As he recovers at Baker Street with John and plans the attack on Appledore with Mycroft, he fights to work through the trauma caused by these two visits. Set during His Last Vow.

The Unfinished Letters by SilentAuror (E, 37,391 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3 / S3 / HLV Fix it, Angst with Happy Ending, Romance, Infidelity, Depression, Case Fic, POV Third Person Sherlock, Love Confessions, Pining Sherlock, Letters) – A fire at Baker Street leads John to read something he was never intended to see: a notebook of half-written, unfinished letters Sherlock wrote during his time away...

Set in Stone by SilentAuror (E, 39,309 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Wedding, Therapy, Fluff and Angst) – Sherlock and John are back from Ravine Valley and planning their wedding. However, as they move past the trial of the human traffickers, Sherlock can't help but wonder if he's imagining that John is becoming a little distant. Surely he isn't getting cold feet about the wedding... Part 2 of The Ravine Valley series

Act IV by SilentAuror (E, 39,707 w., 1 Ch. || First Person POV Sherlock, HLV Fix-It, Infidelity, Angst, Drama) – After Sherlock is shot, John moves back into Baker Street. They spend the autumn together as John tries to make sense of his life and make some important decisions about both Mary and Sherlock. Canon-compliant, excerpts from His Last Vow.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #long fics #single chapter fics #Anonymous

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thefudge · 4 years ago

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Do you have any Romanian (language or just content-wise) media recs? Particularly novels and poetry but really any must-sees/must-reads are welcome!

uuuu!

my brain is too fried right now to do any kind of exhaustive list so i’m gonna rec a few things that i know you could get your hands on/available in translation:

for two thousand years, by mihail sebastian - really heartbreaking yet also lucid, adventurous and darkly humorous memoir of a Jewish writer in his youth at the height of nazism in romania (there’s even a Penguin classic of it)

diary of a short-sighted adolescent by mircea eliade - a funny and bittersweet bildungsroman about a bookish teenager who wants to read everything now and be the cleverest person alive while also struggling with being super lazy and unmotivated because he’s young and restless, it’s very #relatable. but it’s also fascinating to read this in opposition with “for two thousand years” because eliade entertained legionnaire nazi sympathies at one point. (also, you should check out his novellas too, especially the fantastic ones)

anything you can find in translation by gabriela adamesteanu - just lovely, delicate prose about growing up, being an adult, inhabiting your body and your feelings in an oppressive world

the hatchet by mihail sadoveanu (apparently, there is a translation) - a lot of people give this novel flak, mostly because we had to read it in high school, but it’s a great and deceptively simple little novel that says a lot more about people than it cares to admit. the action takes you through several villages in the East-Carpathians, where a peasant woman goes in search of her missing husband. it’s a fascinating mixture of crime and folklore and mythology.

any novella by costache negruzzi, but especially “alexandru lapusneanu”, another classic we had to read in school and which gets a lot of flak. it’s so bonkers and #quality-trash. let’s just say there’s a scene where the power-hungry voievod/prince lapusneanu enacts a red-wedding situation and builds a pyramid of freshly severed heads to impress his lady wife *swoon*

the forest of the hanged by liviu rebreanu - i know people argue this isn’t his best novel, but it’s got the most heart. it’s the story of a soldier/philosopher in WW1 who falls in love with people again. that’s it. he falls in love with people, and the war and everything in between doesn’t matter anymore. or it matters only as it pertains to people, and people alone.

gallants of the old court by mateiu caragiale - a bizarre gem of early 20th century Romanian nightlife, a wonderful, orgiastic fugue, feverish and infuriating. it’s mostly about rich men and social-climbers getting into existential trouble, but also into real trouble. normally, because the action takes place right before WW1, this would signify the end of an era. but we don’t really have a beginning or end. we are part-balkan, part-french imitators, part-whatever-sticks. nothing moves us, and everything does. and that’s why it’s a sort of love/hate letter to romanians

in terms of poetry, some personal faves: nichita stanescu, ana blandiana, monica pillat, marin sorescu, a.e. baconsky, lucian blaga, emil brumaru, nora iuga, marta petreu, nina cassian. and yes, mihai eminescu, our national poet, though i’m often in two minds about him.

poetry in translation is really hit and miss because of the “untranslatable”, so here’s two lines from a poem by nina cassian, because i want to show you what i mean:

De când m-ai părăsit mă fac tot mai frumoasă ca hoitul luminând în întuneric.

this roughly and poetically translates to:

Since you left me I’ve grown more beautiful

like the corpse lighting the dark

and this is sort of lovely on its own, but you’d need to know and hear and taste the word “hoit” in romanian to really feel the abjectness, because “hoit” is a smelly, ugly yet also alluring, already decomposing version of “cadavru” aka cadaver/corpse. also “ mă fac tot mai frumoasă” cannot be accurately summed up in “i’ve grown more beautiful”. a literal translation would be “I make myself more beautiful”. in romanian, this is obviously idiomatic and not literal. and yet, these strange self-reflexive valences make these lines strong and eerie, as if the speaker were authoring her beauty, shaping it out of clay and darkness and “hoit”, like a butterfly cracking the corpse’s shell to get out, but also retaining some of its mesmerizing stench. why did i pause to do a close-reading of romanian poetry??? anyway, you catch my drift

in terms of movies, a recent one i really loved was sierranevada by cristi puiu, which is a neurotic family drama that drains you but also lifts you up

and yeah, the hype is real, 4 months, 3 weeks and 2 days by cristi mungiu really is that good (about two young women trying to get an illegal abortion in communist romania. it won the palme d’or for very legit reasons. it breaks you in small ways. the very last shot of the film you’ll carry with you forever). i also liked graduation by cristi mungiu, where a young overachieving girl is about to graduate high school and go on to study abroad, until a terrible event unmoors both her and her family. the movie turns almost hallucinatory at one point, filled with ambiguity and a kind of sleep-walking quality

tales from the golden age by cristi mungiu (him again!) is also fantastic for anyone who wants to get a taste of communist romania and the sad-funny absurdities of everyday life. this movie is split in 2 parts and the format is that of an anthology, almost like watching several short films at once. and there is one film in the anthology that always turns me inside out, and it’s really silly, it’s this bonnie and clyde type story about this girl and boy who meet at a party and devise an ingenious get-rich scam and just run around a few neighborhoods trying to put it into practice and it’s...the sweetest, most incomplete thing. there is such a strange, lovely connection there that never gets realized, and there is a MOMENT between them where he helps her step down from this ledge and he holds her briefly to him and i remember being in the cinema and thinking THIS, this is THE MOMENT where i felt these people were real. it was such an honest, lovely moment. like the equivalent of this song. ANYWAY, why am i rambling so much??? this ask was supposed to be SHORT.

aferim! by radu jude is also a really neat movie and provides a look into the historical romanian/rroma relationship and why it’s so messed up, yet also so organic

the death of mr. lazarescu by cristi puiu is also a great little film about a man who gets sick and goes to the hospital. and...dies, as you can tell from the title. on the surface, he dies because of institutional ineptness and a broken healthcare system. at a deeper level, he dies because we no longer know how to help people. various hospital staff in the film do try to help him and fail for various stupid or quietly heartbreaking reasons. it’s a movie about being physically unable to care. there’s indifference, sure, but also this great exhaustion of the human spirit. but the movie is also darkly funny. might not be a great pandemic watch, but then again it might be exactly what you need

there are soooo many other classics in terms of books (morometii by marin preda, for instance, about a patriarch in a small village in the South who slowly realizes the world he used to live in doesn’t have room for him anymore, and maybe it never had) but i’m gonna end on a quote from ion creanga, one of the most cryptic classics of romanian lit:

“Şi eu eram vesel ca vremea cea mai bună şi şturlubatic şi copilăros ca vântul în tulburea sa”

my translation: “and I was cheerful like the best weather and frolicsome and childish like the wind in its cloudiness”

and again, the words in romanian and their particular sound and bite (”şturlubatic”, “tulburea”) immediately take me elsewhere. creanga writes about childhood, but it’s never really childhood. he writes as an adult who, in my opinion, was never really a child, but a weird, small god of the land. i mean the word “tulburea” can mean both “turmoil” and “muddiness”. the wind can be anguished, but also just a little cloudy, just a little hazy, shrinking its agony, howling it in the child. it’s eerie and gorgeous. so, that’s what he does: creanga writes about children as if they were wind-like spirits. he writes stories about devils and the peasants who trick them and school books filled with spit and flies, and warm eggs stolen from nests and fairy-tales of a world that is buried somewhere inside us, but not too deep, things hidden under our clothes or nails or even in our hair. and it’s all so physical and convoluted, just like his prose. and i don’t think anyone will ever make sense of him and that’s what makes him so discombobulatingly great.

anyway, this was supposed to be...like, really short! and not gassy! i’m sorry. i love waxing about all this gay stuff. i’m so gay about it.

realistically tho, the nearest thing you’ll find in your local bookshop is probably books by famous ‘theater of the absurd’ playwright, eugen ionesco, or novels in translation by contemporary author mircea cartarescu. both are pretty good, so go for it! (if you want to start small, i’d recommend REM by mircea cartarescu, because it’s so trippy and meta and captures that summer holiday eeriness so well. it goes well with this romanian song sung in english)

okay byeeeee

#romanian lit #recs #romanian literature #reference #my thoughts #romanian cinema #i hope no actual romanians come across this list and eviscerate me haha #im sorry this is such....MUCH

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rpmemesbyarat · 4 years ago

Conversation

RP meme from Scream Queens Ep 4 "Haunted House" (Note: Offensive content, use at own discretion)

A girl died in this tub.

There's no record of any of these names except for one.

Oh, my god, there's two of them!

I own Halloween. It's my jam.

Halloween is the most important day of the year. It's the one day on the Gregorian calendar where you're allowed to go around terrifying children and not be branded a psychopath.

I am a future network news anchor who's super classy and has almost no fat on her body.

A lot of my fans are, like, friendless dumpy coeds at this or that nursing school in one of this country's various national armpits.

They put down their hot pockets and bask in the warm glow of what it feels like to love me.

I went shopping with my comatose grandmother's credit card and bought presents.

Oh, my god, it says my name!

I hope the severed leg brightens up your trailer park.

You're a bright light in my life, and I wanted you to know how much you impress me with your frumpy spirit.

You are so devastatingly mediocre and adorable!

I can't wait to see you in person, but before that, I'd like to see you post this all over social media, to exploit it for my own gain.

Aah! It's a rotting jack-o'-lantern!

Aah! This box is just filled with blood!

She got me a razor apple!

I stole this cadaver head from an ophthalmology student just for you.

You're the most important person in the world.

So you didn't see anyone in a red devil costume entering or leaving the house?

Are you coming to the precinct pig roast this year?

Come on, she's obviously the killer!

Do you mean to suggest I changed out of my nightgown, strapped myself into a skintight pleather red devil costume, climbed out a second-story dormer, and shimmied to the ground with a chain saw before entering a window I had left open, tried to kill you, then leapt out the window, climbed back up the wall, changed back into my nightgown,

and raced downstairs, all in the course of about 90 seconds?

Clearly that's got you a little freaked out.

I'm not gonna hold any of this against you, and I'm gonna let you be my date for the faculty Halloween party.

Attempted murder!

A guy was almost killed tonight, okay?

Now, no, I'm not a detective, hell, I ain't even a cop, but what I am is somebody who watched every one of those Cosby mysteries, okay?

See? Dismemberment!

I am so sorry that I pushed you out of my car and drove off real scared.

I just can't believe that How To Lose A Guy In 10 days is your favorite movie, too.

In precisely two and half minutes when we go in there, you let me do all the talking.

What are you dressed as?

Oh, you have a squirrel. Don't see that much anymore.

Breakfast is almost ready, we got meat today.

What can you tell us about that night?

Now, we will keep your name out of it, of course.

'm a vault,

And to get in this vault you need a key. Now, you may ask, a key to what? It's a key to meaning. Once you've found the meaning, you don't need the words. You know what I'm saying?

Please, continue with your story.

Have any of you ever heard of "negligent homicide"?

We need to dispose of this body on our own. Now, I've got everything we need in the kitchen to make sausages out of her.

I'm gonna go downstairs, shut this party down, and then we'll get the body out of here.

Somebody has to watch after the baby.

Can you at least turn on the radio?

Just leave the details to me.

We can't just act like this never happened.

She's the devil, that one.

I looked at that baby up close. I know my peas and carrots. That baby was a girl.

Your support doesn't matter.

My campaign needs a theme?

My pumpkin's drunk.

I'm hosting a haunted house to raise money for sickle cell anemia.

Why are you holding a fund-raiser, though?

I don't think you understand the magnitude of the miscalculation you just made.

I can assure you you will not be winning an election anytime soon. And when you lose, I am gonna make it my lifelong passion to destroy your reputation.

You're a stuck-up little sociopath, and everybody in this room knows it.

It might behoove you to recall that everyone here witnessed you actually murder someone

Just sharpening knives.

Put the knives down.

I don't know what came over me.

How very adolescent of you to think of this.

It vaguely smacks of something my six-year-old sister would be excited about.

It's the most disgusting disease in the history of mankind.

You get it when you don't even understand the most basic tenets of oral hygiene.

Just give the dang thing its pot of gold already!

I ain't got no candy!

Bet you're a sexy dirt-covered girl. That's what I bet you are.

Sometimes I come out here and I just rub my hands on the gravestones.

I get you more than anyone.

I also find the thought of dead bodies extremely arousing.

I just don't understand why I have all these dark feelings.

You know, I just think our generation's had it too easy, you know? We haven't seen enough horrible stuff. There's no awesome diseases randomly killing people. There's not really any awesome wars to go off to and witness horrific things you can't unsee. We, like, pulled out of all of 'em.

Sometimes I just don't even feel like I'm living, you know?

The only time I feel anything is when I'm thinking about chopping up a body.

And here you are, saddled up with an uptight girlfriend who freaked out for no other reason than the fact that you just wanted to fantasize about having sex with her lifeless corpse.

Oh, my god, I got a total chub right now.

Not scary enough.

She'll let you in the back door.

What could be scarier for an adult than a child coming to murder them?

Isn't that all of our greatest fear? That the pain, the regrets, the mistakes of our youth will destroy us in our adulthood? That we can't escape our inner child. One we would rather forget, but who, at the end of the day has all the power.

Why are you lying to me?

Something does not make sense.

You got to give me more here, okay?

I don't understand what you're getting at.

Are you on bath salts?

Why are we even here?

This house is haunted.

There's a legend in this neighborhood about a woman who wailed about her dead children. And this was the house she lived in.

These dumb ol' kids are smoking crack.

I think it's incredible what you can find out with just a quick trip down to your local library.

This can be one of the rooms for the haunted house.

What exactly do you plan on doing at this haunted house?

I was thinking we could blindfold folks and make 'em put their hands in a bowl full of grapes we peeled, so it'll feel like eyeballs.

I think the reason you want to have a haunted house party is 'cause a haunted party is like a buffet for murderers.

Yeah, yeah, you can just go around killing anybody you want and ain't nobody even gonna even notice.

Just like you chopped the arms off that dumb-ass golf guy.

Why do you have it out for me?

So now you look at me and see everything you could've been.

I hope you have a good time at you haunted party and get to murder lots of folks.

You have this way too thought out.

Isn't this kind of nice?

My sense of personal identity is completely external.

I really don't have much to offer.

I've found that my particular style of speaking and gesticulation is extremely off-putting to most boys. And girls. And anyone.

I need to eat. My blood sugar is crashing.

I'm tired of depriving myself of joy and sustenance.

I may die at the end of a serial killer's blade, but I refuse to die hungry.

Which one of you ladies would like to be my costume for Halloween? I'm going as "dude having awesome sex with you."

I mean, what in the hell's wrong with the world where a guy can't even whistle at a chick just to tell her she looks hot?

I recently took a women's studies class. Yes, because it was a requirement, but I learned a lot anyways. Like the culture that says it's okay for a man to objectify a woman for her appearance is the same culture that pressures girls as young as ten to have eating disorders.

So you're basically saying I'm the one responsible for making you look hot?

When you treat us like meat, you're no better than him!

I'm not really sure how you got my number, but I like how you took the initiative and texted me where you wanted us to meet.

Do you think you're man enough to take me inside that house and attack my crack?

I'll sure this house has an amazingly romantic basement.

Hey, so, uh, a little awkward since we're about to bone down and everything, but, um, what's your name?

Smells like roadkill.

I've never been so scared in my whole life.

All right, if we go to the police, they're gonna see I'm still rocking a mad sidepipe, and they're gonna think I had something to do with it.

We have to warn people.

All right, everybody listen up! All of your lives are in danger!

There are dead bodies! Dead bodies. Real-life dead bodies.

Did you say dead bodies?

Those are like the most lifelike dead bodies I've ever seen.

Is that a real dead body?

There are five dead bodies in that house. Laid out in horrible and deliberate macabre poses.

You are not leaving this house tonight.

You make it harder and harder to believe that you're not the killer.

I found out something really interesting, and now I have a theory.

Everything is weird about that story.

I mean, it's too big a coincidence.

We have to figure out who that woman was.

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay memes #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #scream queens

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regrettablewritings · 4 years ago

Text

Animatic/Storyboard Music

Got bored/procrastinate-y on coloring in this ultra intricate card for my mom. So I’m just gonna make a list of songs I think make for good animatic material. Because why not/I wanna foist my musical tastes on people/ @locke-writes got me in a music binge. For the most part, it’s just gonna be me explaining the meanings or the vibe or what they generally tend to be used for, but really it’s mostly subjective so imaginate whatchu wanna.

“Trust Me” - The Devil’s Carnival Originally depicting a story about the Scorpion and the Frog, it’s the perfect song for when you want to depict the dynamic between a gullible or at the very least more grounded character and a figure whose intentions . . . may be less than pure. Or good for anyone, really.

“The Dismemberment Song” - The Blue Kid I have a playlist dedicated to songs whose content and sound are just . . . not married to one another, but got a weird flirtationship situation going on. Anyway, I’ve seen people say that they like to imagine it’s sung through the POV of a scorned housewife who’s finally Had Enough™️. And . . . They’re really not wrong for it. Really, though, it’s just the right song for when a sadist is just ready to gut a fucker but is disturbingly jolly about it.

“Love Me Dead” - Ludo Continuing with my trend of songs about people in less than ideal situations, “Love Me Dead” is straight to the point: The relationship is just awful and the guy gets nothing from it, but he can’t help but be hopelessly in a state of adoration for the woman he’s latched on to (“You’re born of a jackal! YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL!!”)

“Constellations” - The Oh Hellos There actually isn’t a plot to this song, it just feels really good (as all songs by The Oh Hellos are prone to be). However, if you feel a need to portray the concept of having to reorganize your thoughts after realizing that maybe they weren’t what you initially thought, and then coming to the conclusion that even though everything changes as a result, you’ll be alright? This is the song for you.

“A Kindling of Sorts” - The Oh Hellos An instrumental piece that is like . . . It’s related to another song of theirs about nationalism called “Torches”, so make of that what you will. (I personally have been using it to imagine storyboarding an opening for an animated The Witcher series.)

“The Other Side” - The Greatest Showman I know everyone and their mom has used this to portray situations like villains trying to get good guys to join their side. But I dun curr, it’s a fun song. That, and I like what Emilyamio did with her interpretation. It’s fun. For a basic rundown, know it’s another song about two characters’ dynamics being explored, with one coming to the other with a proposal that they join them in whatever endeavors they have in store. It’s often portrayed as something evil, but it really doesn’t have to be, as the original context was more about letting loose than anything.

“The Thief and the Moon” - Shawn James A much more mellow piece. Simple and straight to the point: A thief tells the Moon that he plans on stealing her light to shade the world in darkness. The Moon insists that the thief would only doom the world by doing so, to which the thief clarifies that he doesn’t care; if the world is shrouded in shadow, it means he will be able to steal with more ease (“My very existence is a race to attain wealth”). Disgusted, the Moon essentially curses the man with a warning that his greed can and will bring about his end -- and leave him to be forgotten by the rest of mankind, once it happens.

“Villainous Thing” - Shayfer James I’ve seen people say that this song is about singing to a cadaver but I can’t quite find anything confirming that (translation: I’m too lazy to look too into it). Regardless, it’s a fun ditty that yet again portrays someone with less than pure intentions encouraging someone to join him in some good old fashion villainy, as they’ve clearly endured their fair share of hardships and surely wanted to do evil anyway (“You’ll find no ever after here, it’s clear that isn’t what you came for“).

“Necromancin Dancin” - Bear Ghost Straight forward and fun as fuck: A necromancer apparently seems to cross classes and try his hand at barding by not only raising an army of the dead, but by also making them dance in order to make conquering the world easier. Because . . . a body doing Disco Duck isn’t scary, I guess.

"Aquaman” - Walk the Moon A song about one half of a couple wanting to become more involved in their relationship, but still having some nervousness about doing so. If you somehow haven’t heard this song yet, you gotta because it’s the cutest shit.

“Jenny’s Tale” - Ren I’ll be brutally honest, it’s about a woman named Jenny who just wants to get home after a long day of work and an unfortunate encounter with a 14 year old named Screech who gets way in over his head. As in, like, a death happens. That being said, I need. Like. An animated music video of this song. I imagine this shit in gritty charcoal or painted on glass, it just needs this. Somebody who isn’t me who knows what they’re doing, please look into this.

“The Curse of the Fold” - Shawn James As cheesy as it sounds, it basically boils down to not giving up or yielding. But what makes it so cool is the fact that Shawn James makes all his songs basically sound like a western gothic soundtrack. Which helps, because he admits that the title is also a reference to poker, in which giving up too often or too easily can often rob you of a delicious reward gained through perseverance and sacrifice.

“Thank God I’m Not You” - Himalayas I prefer to imagine this for an arrogant asshole of a character. Because that’s exactly what this song is about: They’re a liar and a thief, they’ve been called the son of Satan, and yet they consider themselves lucky -- ‘cause at least they ain’t you! If you have a character in mind who’s a delightful, punchable little shit, this is probably either their anthem or at least on the playlist you inevitably made for them.

"Passerine" - The Oh Hellos So there’s a common trend in The Oh Hellos’ discography that tends to explore the two founders’ experiences with faith and their growth in how they understand it or recognize it. With “Passerine”, the concept being explored is the experience they had when it came to taking a step back and realizing just how many of their supposed “fellow Christians” were actually doing some rather unchristian things, so to speak. When they “prune[d] their feathers”, it became clear that they had less in common with certain people proclaiming to be Christian while also spouting bigotry and greed. However, the desire to move away from such influences comes with the feeling of being torn, as moving too far away from the Bible leaves the singer feeling as though she is betraying something she holds dear. As a result, “Passerine” symbolizes not a breakage from faith, but a breakage from blind faith as they understood it, and the inevitable feeling of being torn that comes along with expanding upon how one views their beliefs and those around them. It’s therefore not uncommon to see Good Omens animatics using this song. (Something I also noticed is that throughout the song, you hear pieces of “Constellations”. TOH have a tendency to reference previous pieces, and considering “Constellations” is a song about changing perspective and the meanings we apply to them, it fits in beautifully with a song about reevaluating one’s stance.)

“Like the Dawn” - The Oh Hellos As stated before, a lot of TOH’s discography draws inspiration from their faith. In this case, it’s an outright retelling of the Garden of Eden, specifically when Adam awoke to find Eve had been created. What makes this iteration stand out to most, however, is that the singer is female, which seems to change the vibe you get. It sweetens the feeling of wonder we often forget the first man might’ve felt upon seeing somebody made for him, creating an air of beauty yet comfort with such lines as “And like the dawn, you broke the dark and my whole earth shook” or “You were the brightest shade of sun I had ever seen.” Even without the awareness or an interest in religious influences, it still manages to be a very feel-good song -- which is the mark of an overall good song in general!

“Confession” - RED Dealing with the constant battle of feeling ashamed that how you feel on the inside isn’t in sync with how you present yourself on the outside. That you should feel bad for smiling out at the world while screaming and thrashing -- like it’s a lie. But you can’t help it: It’s what you’re accustomed to. Though it does end on a hopeful note with the singer deciding that they want to reach out for help and rid themselves of this feeling of pain they have inside.

“When I Grow Up” - Matilda . . . Only if you want to cry. Seriously. When you’re a kid, everything seems difficult but you’re positive that once you grow up, everything will change: You’ll be tall enough to climb the trees you were too small to, you’ll be able to carry everything because you’re stronger, you’ll be brave enough to fight the monsters hiding in your room, you’ll finally have all the answers. . . . But life isn’t that simple. We wish it were, but it isn’t. There’s this bittersweetness about this song, about a sense of purity we unfortunately grow out of where we think things will be just the same enough for us to do what we want when we want, but things are more complicated than that. We still struggle to reach, to bear the weight, to not be afraid, to have even a fraction of the answers. But! We’re reminded that just because we’re told life isn’t fair, doesn’t mean we have to take it. After all, nothing changes when nothing happens. And even beyond that? It helps to remember that we’re never quite done growing up; there’s always more to learn, so remember to be patient with yourself.

“Hand Me My Shovel, I’m Going In!” - Will Wood and the Tapeworms This is . . . a song. The lyrics are honestly kinda all over the place and shooting rapid fire, making it a bit difficult to discern what exactly the singer is going on about. It makes for a pretty crazy song that suggests somebody’s going unhinged, which is apparently precisely the intention?? I’ve seen a lot of people interpret this as a song about a guy who is already at a low point in his life but nonetheless is going, “. . . I bet I can go deeper. Hand me my shovel.”

“No Reason” - Beetlejuice God if i had a youtube channel the segment i would spend on this song would be so juicy just ripe and thicc with thoughts and feelings i tell ya rich like a fresh fatty peach the apple that tempted Eve and gagged Adam yes ‘Nother song that explores the dynamic between two differing people and their worldviews. At its simplest, “No Reason” is about two opposite ends of a spectrum coming to a head: Idealistic and hippie-dippy Delia is convinced that everything happens for a reason, while cynical and depressed Lydia asserts that everything happens at random and it doesn’t matter anyway because we’re all going to die. And even though the delivery is ultimately a comedic one, you get more insight as to why one another feels the way that they do: Lydia, as we’ve previously learned, has recently lost her mother to an illness, which has left her depressed and feeling invisible (a theme in the show); whereas Delia’s failed marriage and desperate attempts to nonetheless be happy have left her dependent on the idea that these things had to have happened for a reason, otherwise, her pain would’ve been for nothing. What’s important is that neither side is actually appointed as the winner, with the song ultimately ending that the universe is random for a reason.

“Barbara 2.0″ - Beetlejuice Without spoiling anything (or at least too much), “Barbara 2.0″ is about growth. It’s about learning to put your foot down after a literal lifetime of being passive out of fear of what might happen and just accepting that nothing will happen if nothing happens -- but that doesn’t make whatever happens good.

“Bleed Magic” - IDHKBTFM It’s either about a killer or a vampire. No, seriously: When Dallon Weekes was asked about what the story of the song was, that was his answer. I personally prefer to think of it as a vampire or demon of some kind, given that the song came out around Halloween. Perfect for yet another example of somebody (likely supernatural) having an upper hand on an unsuspecting mortal. ...I have way too many of these on this list, I swear I don’t have a problem —

“Feel Good Drag” - Anberlin A toxic relationship of sorts. In that it shouldn’t be a relationship to begin with. Depicts the singer being approached by an ex, who seeks a one-night stand while her current boyfriend is out of town. However, the singer is aware that trying to continue anything regardless of the situation is a moot point: Even when they were together, their relationship was doomed from the start, and nothing about that is going to change -- especially now.

“Soviet Trumpeter” - Katzenjammer (It’s kinda difficult to work with this one but I’ve seen people work with less or stranger.) Based off the life of one Eddie Rosner, a Jewish Polish trumpeter whose fame within the USSR unfortunately faded due to the Soviet Union’s heavy censorship. Even if nothing is to be done with it, it still paints a melancholic picture of a talented man’s skills being largely unknown as a result of things beyond his control. All wrapped up in a song that denotes a strange deterioration in a way I can’t quite place.

“Apple Blossom” - The White Stripes On its face, it’s a very sweet song: The singer encourages his beloved to be vulnerable enough with him to tell him her troubles and to let him “sort them out for [her]”. She’s clearly saddened, and seeing so distresses him to where he insists that he will do whatever he can to make her happy. However, the tone of the song and certain lines make it easy to twist into yet another song of a character attempting to seduce somebody into a state of vulnerability . . .

“You’ve Got Possibilities” - It’s a Bird, It’s a Plane, It’s Superman The one singular song people actually liked from this forgotten musical. Perfect for when somebody intends on giving somebody else a makeover. Y’know, after totally roasting them on their posture and clothing. If you want to add a lil something extra, know that the context is that a lady wants to give Clark Kent a makeover, insisting that in spite of his schlubby appearance, there’s gotta be something underneath. I repeat: She is telling this to Clark freaking Kent.

“Still” - Anastasia In the context, the show’s antagonist (not bad guy, there’s a difference) finds himself torn between obligation and personal interest: Does he fulfill his duty and live up to expectations set upon him by his father and the society he’s been selected to help uphold? Or does he let a woman he has become fond of go? Is she truly as innocent as she claims? Or is she well aware of what she’s doing? And every time he thinks he’s reached a conclusion, he can’t help but thing, “But still . . .” Good for when you want to portray a character conflicted between obligations of politics and what their heart wants.

“Two Nobodies in New York” - [title of show] Two young men plan on entering an upcoming theatrical festival but struggle with what to even submit. This song in particular focuses on them trying to figure out what to even write, the concept of fame, and if wanting the certain things that may come with fame can mean anything from being sell-outs to getting a sitcom. It’s admittedly specific, but it’s a cute and funny interaction between two guys who are, for the most part, actually in sync with their thoughts and anxieties. For the time being.

“Into the Unknown” - Idina Menzel Look, I refuse to watch that movie. I just do. But I will take this song over That Other One any day. Mostly because I personally like to imagine that the singer in this song is about to embark on a Pixaresque journey after accidentally leaving her home during the night of The Wild Hunt, accidentally separating her spirit from her body and thus giving her a very limited time to get back to it before she remains a soul trapped in a whirlwind of ghosts forever. But first: Let’s sing about that strange howling that coaxes her so.

“You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid” - The Offspring I sure do long songs that can characterize a shithead . . . Anywho! The smoothest way to go is just to portray some cocky, manipulative shit who’s used to just lying and cheating their way to get what they want before slipping away without any consequences -- to a point. There’s the option of portraying the betrayer’s comeuppance, but there’s also the frustratingly delicious option of just letting them get away with whatever to lie another day.

“Why Should I Worry” - Billy Joel When in doubt, go to earlier Disney. Because like it or not, they had some bops. And when in the need of portraying a happy-go-lucky (probably idiotic) doofus and his more neurotic or cynical friend going about their life with the former just Mr. Magooing it while the latter suffers more realistic consequences? You go with this song. If you want. That’s just me.

“Transformation” - Brother Bear For when you want to invoke a mystical or otherworldly feeling. There’s really not much more I can say except to encourage you to listen to it and watch the scene if you can find it. You’ll get the vibe.

“No Girl’s Toy” - Raggedy Ann and Andy: A Musical Adventure It’s a big shame this movie is relatively unknown and never got a proper VHS release or anything -- mainly because the music in this cult classic is definitely stuff I could see becoming standards. I could see people performing “I Never Get Enough” for little shows, or recycling “Blue” for a different show. Thankfully, somebody was able to upload a clear enough sounding recording of “No Girl’s Toy”, so at least we have that. In context (just...follow me on this), Raggedy Ann’s brother, Raggedy Andy, has had enough of being subjected to “girly things” while in the nursery. Additionally, though, the way the song was written means it can also be interpreted as just a guy who refuses to let himself be yanked around regardless of how thick the sugar being laid on him is. . . . If you wanna poke fun as a character for trying to appear tougher than what he is, here’s the song. (That being said, Andy is a sweetheart at the end of the day. No amount of tough-fronting will hide that.)

“I Enjoy Being a Girl” - Flower Drum Song (It is by sheer coincidence that this song follows the above.) Really, it’s exactly what it says on the tin: The singer enjoys being a girl and what all it entails for her. She loves her feminine form, she loves the attention she gets, she loves dolling herself up, she loves frilly dresses, and she hopes to one day marry a guy who enjoys “having a girl like [her].” And honestly? Good on her! Love whatcha love, lovely! Seriously, though, it’s a cute song for anyone who just wants to indulge in some girliness.

“Chip on My Shoulder” - Legally Blonde Come on: It’s Legally Blonde. You know what this bop is, or at least have an idea of it. But since I love this song, I’ll indulge: Disheartened by her failure to both win back her ex and succeed in the fast-paced environment of Harvard, the normally bright-eyed Elle is ready to call it quits. That is, until junior partner Emmett gets involved. Unimpressed by her story, Emmett reveals that he got to where he was by busting his ass due to having a chip on his shoulder from his rough beginnings — and maybe a chip on the shoulder is exactly what Elle needs to survive. And as somebody driven by spite, I can appreciate that kind of message. Anywho, it all in all is a song about growth and learning how to be “driven as hell” to keep up with an opportunity that may not be easy to take, but is not one to be passed by.

“What Do I Need with Love?” - Thoroughly Modern Millie “What Do I Need with Love?” asks exactly that: He could date a different girl every night of the week if he so wanted, and never once had any desire to go steady before. He considers himself lucky to have never fallen for anyone -- until now. Which he’s not! He’s not in love. ...He totally is and, by his own admission, he’s got it bad it’s terribly adorable.

“Interlude IV” - Zach Callison The entire album is actually a narrative about a failed relationship of Callison’s and I’m sure the other songs are just as great fuel for animatics -- I’m just too caught up on listening to this one over and over. Sometimes, we just wanna listen to Steven Universe cuss and be openly furious. Seriously, though, even without the context of the rest of the story, you get the idea well enough: A spiteful Zach decides to get back at the one that broke his heart in such a painful way, whereas a well-meaning friend insists they just leave it be and move on. While this technically would be the better and healthier option, Zach is just too far gone with rage to let it go and decides to take care of things by himself.

“Evermore” - Beauty & the Beast Look, I know the remake wasn’t anything crazy. But also I don’t honestly care too terribly much. Besides, this song was nice and it really gets me after that key change. We all want a royal doofus to be enamored enough with us to let us go for our own happiness but still know that their life will forever be changed because they met us. Animate that shit. Over and over.

goddamn this list is long lemme just stop this now byyyyeeeee

#long post #boop #music post #sorta

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diyunho · 5 years ago

Text

The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 2

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

The Joker feels your hand searching around and he knows what you’re looking for: the yellow teddy bear.

“Here Pumpkin,” J gives you the toy that landed on the other side of the bed during the night; a couple minutes pass and his cheek is covered in soft kisses. He opens one eye and you instantly pretend to be asleep.

“I’m onto you, Y/N!” The King of Gotham sneers while you giggle at his affirmation. But as soon as he pecks the scar on your collarbone, your attitude changes.

“No…”, you whimper and cover your face with the sheets.

“I told you before I don’t care about scars,” The Joker tries to reason with you because it happens each time he touches the numerous stitch marks scattered all over your frame: some are deeper lacerations perfectly normal after the surgeries you sustained, others are cuts that might diminish in a few months. “Princess, are you listening?” J traces the lesion on your wrist.

Y/N is so stiff though he has to fight in order to pull the covers away from her.

“Hey…hey… See? I have scars too,” The Clown attempts to distract you. “Are you having a panic attack? No need to!”

You try to keep up with what he’s saying and it’s pretty difficult giving the circumstances; at least you do understand J is making you relax.

His cell phone starts vibrating on the nightstand and he reaches for it.

“Perfect timing, Frost!” The Joker takes his frustration on Jonny. “What do you want?!!”

The short conversation ends fast with The King yelling a bunch of angry stuff, including an interesting grand finale: “Next time you interrupt when I’m on a roll struggling to get laid, maybe you’d like to intervene and convince Y/N her scars don’t bother me!!!”

Why is he mad?...

You watch him toss the phone on the floor and crawl by him, intrigued.

“Upset?” you begin caressing his hair with the teddy bear’s paw.

“My throne won’t be ready until June, Princess! I requested that fancy chair for a reason and paid a fortune to have it customized! What am I supposed to use at the club?! I don’t like the old furniture anymore!!”

You already lost track of what he’s saying: something about not having a throne???… … …

Oh, there’s one really close by!

You grab The Joker’s arm and drag him out of bed towards the bathroom.

“Where are we going?” he inquires, confused.

You quickly guide him to the toilet, making J sit on the closed lid.

“Throne,” you point at the porcelain bowl and The King of Gotham frowns, immediately bursting into laughter afterwards.

“You’re brilliant, Pumpkin! Brilliant!” he praises your interpretation as you are pulled on his knees.

“Hm?”

“You’re a clever Kitten and whoever says otherwise is an idiot! Turns out I do have a throne,” he admits and gropes you.

Too much for your brain to decipher all his sentences, yet Mister J seems content and that’s enough for you.

“The plan for this morning is simple,” he continues. “We’ll have sex, then take a shower and whatnot, then eat breakfast. Later I have a meeting; you just stay here and wait for me, alright?”

“Mmm…” you hesitantly process the words coming out of his mouth, opting to agree for his sake. “Ok?”

“You naughty girl,” he pulls down on your tank top spaghetti strap. ”I know you hate me sometimes, but in the end can’t resist my charm.”

“No hate… Love,” you snuggle to J while he walks back into the bedroom carrying the sweet burden of his existence; of course he ignored your statement because why would he pay attention to nonsense?

*************

You’re outside the car and sulk when Alice sneaks on the passenger’s seat that literally belongs to The Queen.

“Stay here, Princess. I won’t be too long,” The Joker mutters.

“W-why?” you ask since you are not a fan of the idea of having your boyfriend’s ex riding alone with him.

“You get bored at meetings,” he explains. “Circle the property and let the boys know if you need anything,” J emphasizes and drives down the path leading to the gates, leaving a puzzled Y/N behind: you never liked Alice and that didn’t vanish after the accident.

“Bye, Y/N!” she shouts and you can’t make a lot of sense of what you’re feeling, still one detail is certain: it hurts.

How come you couldn’t go?! Why didn’t he give you a choice?! He always does.

If The Joker thinks you can’t put two and two together these days, he’s very wrong.

“Y/N recovered quite nicely,” Alice smirks.

The King of Gotham sighs and she fixes a rebel strand of green hair rebelliously flying over his ear.

“I was wondering if you’ll call me at one point. I missed you, babe.”

“Did ya’?” he scoffs at her bold confession; but she’s a direct person, one of the qualities J admired when they were an item.

“I can’t image how you two function; I mean… her unfortunate transformation, it must be hard for you to put up with someone fighting to comprehend the easiest tasks.”

“It’s not easy,” The Clown admits and gazes at her: Alice dolled up for their rendezvous. Everything he considers attractive is there: beautiful pair of legs popping from under the short skirt, his favorite perfume discretely lingering on her flawless skin, the tip of the purple lace bra she’s wearing casually showing each time the woman leans forward.

“I bet,” Alice pretends to sympathize with his problems. “A man like you has needs that I’m positive Y/N can’t even remember how to satisfy,” she pats his thigh, slowly working her way to his crotch.

The Joker chuckles, accomplice with her insinuations, also super annoyed when his phone rings.

“Yes?” he promptly answers.

“Sir,” Frost reports, ”we have a situation; Y/N is increasingly agitated and…”

“Deal with it!” he hangs up and strives to cruise straight despite the sexy distraction urging him to do otherwise.

“Why did we split?” she scoots closer to him, pouting.

“Beats me,” J purrs as she squeezes her fingers in his pants’ pocket.

“What’s this?” Alice rattles the small plastic pouch.

“Y/N’s anti-inflammatory drug; there’s not much that can be done now and this is helping with the blood clot pressing on her frontal lobe. The doctors say it will reabsorb; granted it won’t matter regarding her cognitive impairment.”

“Awww,” The Joker’s past flame pretends to be affected by his briefing. “That’s too bad, babe; probably the future is not too bright…” she shoves your pills in the glove compartment. “Why don’t we reconcile? You know I’d do anything for you,” the flirtatious tone makes J reply:

“Would you jump in front of a speeding car like Y/N did to save me?”

“Ha! I would,” she elbows him, snickering at his antiques.

“Prove it then,” J growls. “Get out of the vehicle and don’t flinch if I run you over. If you survive, I’ll take you back!”

Alice opens her mouth in amazement and the SUV halts before The King reprises driving.

“Got cha’!” he cracks up at her baffled reaction.

“For God’s sake, babe! You scared me!” she playfully pinches him and teases: “Are we going to our spot?”

“I was wondering when you’ll notice,” The Joker navigates the unpaved road guiding the automobile towards Clear Sky Summit.

“Pull over,” Alice urges him and he complies at once. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time,” she moans climbing on his lap. “I can tell you missed me too,” the woman grins at his body’s response.

“That’s my gun,” J buries his face in the revealing cleavage, firmly holding her waist.

“I bet it is, babe,” she winks while unbuttoning his silver shirt. “I love you!” she tries to bite him and he violently yanks her long hair, snarling.

“Is that why you tried to kill me?”

Alice cautiously exhales, a bit nervous at the switch in his demeanor.

“What are you talking about?!”

“Who was driving the car meant to hit me, huh? Tinted windows, no license plate.”

“Babe, you’re hurting me,” she winces in pain at his strong grip. “I swear I don’t know anything!”

“Are you sure?” J sniffs her scent.

“Yes I’m sure! I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize our…”

“Our what? What exactly our means in this context? We separated more than two years ago!” The Joker crushes her spine against the wheel.

“Babe, let go!” Alice wiggles in his tight embrace.

“Why did you do it? Were you jealous I found a new fling? Took me months to track the culprit!!!” J restricts her movement when she stretches to open the door. “You fucked up my girl!” his hands forcefully twist her neck and the snapping noise of fractured bone halts the argument.

The Joker pushes the corpse off him, numb to the murder he committed out of pure rage: what’s another name added to the list?

Yet… this was personal.

He keeps staring at the trees surrounding the trail without discerning their shape. 30 minutes pass and the phone’s alarm alerts him it’s time for your remedy: The Clown Prince of Crime is so out of it he doesn’t stop it until he’s on the main road.

He speeds up to ensure a timely arrival at the mansion where Y/N will definitely confront him after being abandoned in such fashion: the truth is he doesn’t mind.

What he does mind though is that no matter what happens, Y/N will never be her former self.

***************

The Joker parks in front of the villa and hops out of the car, barking instructions at the goons patrolling the area:

“I want this gone!” he gestures at the cadaver crammed under the front seat. “Where’s Y/N?”

“In the garage, boss” Frost indicates. “You should know that…”

“I got it! I got it!” J waves and sprints towards your destination.

Nothing prepared him for the carnage.

“Holy… … shit!!!” he inhales at the shocking landscape depicting all five of his most beloved vehicles mauled to pieces: broken windows, scraped paint, karoseri indents…a whole mess!

Bam!!! You smash the rearview mirror of his favorite Ferrari with the baseball bat.

“What are you doing, Pumpkin????!!!!” J screams, aggravated.

Oh, he’s back!

“Y-you like her??!!” The Queen redirects her wrath. “B-because she’s smart??!!”

“Who? Alice?” he quizzes for no reason whatsoever: The Joker’s aware of the reply.

“Wh-where did you go, hm?” you point the wood weapon at the man taking you for a fool; you try not to stutter but it’s impossible with the strained neurons firing up a storm inside an already troubled brain.

“Nowhere, I killed her.”

“Hm?”

“I killed Alice!” The Joker raises his voice and watches you squint your eyes, a clear hint you’re analyzing his disclosure. “Look what you did, Princess! Are you happy now??” he finds the perfect opportunity to divert the outcome of the mayhem he actually created: J repeatedly learned this is the best strategy.

“U-hum,” you serenely admit since you’re indeed pleased with the results of your rampage.

The two parties glare at each other in silence and The Joker grabs the yellow teddy bear resting on a nearby hood, proposing truce before you bash something else:

“I’ll trade you the fur ball for your bat.”

Yikes, you’re reluctant to his treaty: further distraction is required.

“My collection is destroyed, Pumpkin!” The Joker approaches with the toy he stole for you on your first date. “Who we’re gonna call on such short notice to fix all this crap?!!”

Oh, you know this one! You and Mister J watch the movie on a regular basis.

“Mmm… Ghost Busters?” Y/N innocently suggests.

He puckers his lips at the astonishing proposal and it takes a lot of effort not to laugh.

“That’s brilliant, Y/N! Best idea I heard all week!” The Joker proudly compliments your intuition. “You’re a clever Kitten and whoever says otherwise is a moron!” he swiftly snatches the baseball from your grasp and replaces it with the teddy bear.

He rolls the weapon by the closest tire, signaling you to follow.

“Come on, Pumpkin, it’s time for your med. Why are you limping? Is your knee hurting again?”

“U-hum.”

“Serves you right for going rogue!” he scolds. “Com’ere,” J lifts you up, placing your legs around his midsection. “I expect apologies by the way!”

“No,” you sniffle while dangling the toy with one arm.

“Pain in the ass!” he huffs and you kiss him. “This is not an apology!” The Joker spanks you butt.

“Mine,” you cuddle to his shoulder, totally blocking his grouchiness.

“Yeah, yeah, yours,” J grumbles heading for the elevator. “So this is how the rest of today will unfold, Y/N: I’ll be mad until evening time, then we’ll have makeup sex and dinner, the last two not necessarily in the same order. And you’re not going to freak out when I touch your scars, OK?”

“Mmm…OK?”

“Why is that a question?” The Joker continues bickering. “You have other prospects? Boyfriends I should know about? Are you even listening?”

“U-hum,” you poke J’s star tattoo. “No… freaking out.”

“Fair enough,” he compromises and lifts you higher on his hips when you cling to him: selective perception is infinitely better than none. “Is this Pink Blossoms?”

“Yes,” you nod at the familiar brand you use all the time.

The King of Gotham smells his favorite perfume in the air, reckoning he wouldn’t enjoy it if another woman wears it for him.

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Wattpad and Ao3 under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker imagine #the joker fanfiction #the joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #the joker #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagine #joker leto #joker suicide squad #mister joker #mister j #Mistah J #dc #dcu

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facelessxchurch · 4 years ago

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Okay, I read the book and am processing but the longer this goes on the more I detect hints of DL lowkey ripping off Warcraft, first Nefarian is named after a giant evil black dragon from vanilla WoW who does p much the same shit (weird blood transfusions, dark magic, mad science, evil minions, necromancy) and I've never found the name "Nefarian" anywhere but with these two chars and we know DL is an MMO gamer, (1)

1.) Oh, I noticed that dragon a lot while trying to search for Nef content. I checked and the Nefarian/Blackwing Lair raid was released in 2005.

The first SP book was released in 2007, so yeah, it’s possible that Landy was aware of this WoW boss. Though. while he confirmed on twitter that he played the Matrix MMO (source: 1, 2), I don’t actually know if he is/was a WoW fan/player.

His questline even includes a sceptre lol (Lord Victor Nefarius is the name of his human disguise btw).

I don’t play WoW or MMO’s in general, so this is probably old news or not quite as impressive to everyone else, but his boss fight sounds nuts, especially with all the class calls O_o I’ve also been enjoying reading through his dialog a lot. This gotta be my personal fav:

He is a recurring boss too. Aw man, I’m so jealous, I would kill to be able to fight our mage Nef in a video game and to have him be a recurring villain (as he should have been!). This makes me even more sad that his Leibniz version got his magic retconned into being one of the shittiest disciplines and that his experimenting has been completely dropped under the table. I’d love to see what other monstrosities Nef could come up with instead of only seeing the Black Cleaver and the Hollow Men (Landy can pry that headcanon out of my cold, dead hands). He must had have some messed up stuff going on in the basement levels of his castle for the Sanctuary to cement it shut tbh.

But yes, I do see the similarities between book 1 Nefarian Serpine and dragon Nefarian. Even his last name ‘Serpine’ could be a nod to that inspiration as dragons are sometimes referred to as serpents.

Tho considering that the name ‘Nefarian’ comes from the actual English word ‘nefarious’ and that they are both pretty stereotypical villains it could be chalked up to coincidence. (I’m still really enjoying this raid boss tho, even if I’m not playing the game myself, thanks for making me look into this~)

2.) Honestly, I don’t know why Cadaver wants to bring the Viddu De back. I just know they seem like another shitty Lovecraft knock-off while Cadavers is like a fucked up and edgy version of Garnet from Steven Universe lol. Not entirely sure what Sylvanas goal is either apart from ‘making life and death fair’, whatever that means? The last cinematic I watched with her was “Announcement Chains of Domination 9.1 - Kingsmourne Cinematic”.

#I have no idea what's going on in WoW bc I ain't playing it #but those sure are some nice cinematics #and it makes me want an SP game even worse #gimme those hand painted nasty boi 3D models plz #and those sweet sweet cutscenes #and boss fights #but not raid boss fights #more like Dark Souls or Darksiders boss fights plz #Anonymous #answered #Nefarian Serpine #Dead or Alive Spoilers #WoW #Landys bs writing #q

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komahinasecretexchange · 5 years ago

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Title: The Sun Always Rises in the Morning

Author: @spacechild-glitchypix-tip

For: @emmakoneko

Rating/Warning: T (Warning for descriptions of gore)

Prompts: ‘Post-canon mutual healing’, 'Something cute, hand-holding maybe’ and 'Let Hajime tell Nagito that he loves him 2k19’

Author’s Notes: I blended all three together since doing that just made the most sense

The scent of viscera would haunt his nostrils. His eyes would scan across an apocalyptic scene with a mountain of bodies and his Rapunzel-like black hair would flow along the wind as he stood on the top of the highest mountain. This time, he saw cotton-like hair beside him, he saw a familiar and adoring face staring at him with a chain leading to his own cadaver-like hand. The scene would always be muffled, like he was hearing it from behind the door of another room and he would never quite make out what his servant was saying. Eventually, the scene would start melting, the gore would cover the scene until his vision would just become red. Then he’d wake up.

Hajime’s eyes shot open, his heart beating hard and fast in his chest. It took him a second to realise he was panicking but he quickly rushed to get up out of bed as soon as realised how badly he was shaking and shivering. Quietly, he made his way out to the boat’s deck.

It was still dark out, the stars twinkling above him. Hajime stared at them, desperate to forget about the nightmare he just had. The stars almost seemed peaceful, even if Hajime logistically knew that multiple of them were probably dying millions of lightyears away, something he couldn’t see from his placement on Earth. Hajime couldn’t tell how long he was standing out on the deck before a rather frantic, terrified-looking Nagito came running up to the railing. It didn’t take long for Nagito to notice Hajime’s presence as well.

“Nagi-oof!” He was cut off with a tight, scared hug from his boyfriend. He looked down at the head of fluffy hair that was tickling his face as Nagito practically squeezed him enough to crush his insides. He would’ve mentioned that but Nagito also seemed to be crying which wasn’t good and Hajime wouldn’t feel right telling him to get off when he’s like this. Instead, he hugged Nagito back, stroking his fluffy hair as he did.

It took a few minutes but eventually, Nagito calmed down enough to move his head from Hajime’s shoulder. His face was stained with tears but he wasn’t crying which was good. Hajime guided him over to a bench just by the door leading back to the interior of the ship. Sitting down, Hajime took this time to wipe away the tears still lingering in Nagito’s eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He tried to keep his voice soft to keep the atmosphere peaceful. Nagito blinked at him and sniffled before replying with a very watery version, clearly fake version of that carefree smile he always had on.

“Oh nothing, please don’t feel obligated to-”

“What’s wrong?” He said it a little slower, voice a little sterner but not too much so. Sure enough, the carefree smile wavered a bit before Nagito spoke once more.

“It was just a nightmare, nothing too pressing,” Hajime couldn’t trust that it was just a nightmare, not when Nagito’s had nightmares that often resulted in despair episodes or panic attacks. Running his hand through that off-white, fluff ball that was Nagito’s hair, Hajime began speaking again.

“You know I love you, right?"

Nagito nodded in response.

"Then you know I’ll help you with whatever it is that’s bothering you, right?” Nagito nodded again before taking a gulp and speaking again.

“It was pitch black, I couldn’t see anything. I could- I could hear her voice laughing in front of me. I think I was being pulled along by- by a chain?” He took a shaky breath, almost bracing himself to continue. “Suddenly, I’m shoved into a seat? I can hear plane turbines and I can smell blood and-”

At that point, Nagito couldn’t speak any longer, Hajime could tell since Nagito was swallowing rapidly like he had something stuck in his throat. “It’s ok, you don’t have to keep going,” Nagito almost immediately sagged in relief before Hajime pulled him into another hug which he happily reciprocated.

“You know I would never let that happen, right?”

“I don’t think that really could ever happen. Then again, knowing my luck-”

“There has to be a chance of something happening for your luck to affect it, there’s literally zero chance of her coming back,”

“Hmm…I guess you’re right,”

That was a first, Nagito usually didn’t give into Hajime’s arguments that easily. It was probably the tiredness, both of them should be tucked up in bed anyways. Hajime feels a shiver pass down his spine as he thinks of the nightmare he himself had earlier. He’d hoped Nagito hadn’t noticed but, ironically, Nagito himself shot down that hope when he moved to look at him. They stared at each other for a second before Nagito spoke.

“I probably should’ve asked this first but why were you out here Hajime?”

Hajime was silent, not wanting to dump all his problems onto Nagito after what had just happened earlier. Not that this was an option since Nagito wasn’t about to let him stew in his own nightmare but it was worth a shot.

“Hajime,” Nagito gave him the most disapproving look he could muster. It wasn’t super effective since Nagito was tired and still slightly weepy from the nightmare but it was stern enough to make Hajime look away. “It’s fine, just focus on yourself,”

Nagito sighed. “You shouldn’t force yourself to deal with my problems at all really but, if you are going to then at least let me try to help you,"

Hajime hesitated before nodding. "Alright,”

Hajime tried remembering the scene. “We- there were lots of really big piles of corpses- just, giant piles of corpses everywhere and everything must’ve just been covered in blood. We were standing on the tallest pile- I was Izuru and you were in despair, I was holding onto one end of that chain you usually wear,” Hajime took a pause, trying to remember what else happened. “You, you were saying something but I couldn’t hear what, it was muffled. Then everything just sort of started blending together,”

Hajime felt sick to his stomach just thinking about the scene but, luckily, the faint after image of the gorey scenery was washed away by Nagito’s concerned, comforting face. Any brief remembrance of the smell of carnage was replaced by the shampoo that Nagito uses to wash his hair and Hajime was rather eager to sink into that smell, pulling Nagito into a giant hug and planting his face softly into the toasted-marshmallow-coloured hair. Nagito seemed just as content to sink into the warmth of the hug, practically squeezing Hajime with all his might (which wasn’t all that painful given how skinny Nagito actually was).

“I love you,” Hajime moved so he was face-to-face with Nagito, placing a soft kiss to his lips before moving on to kiss the rest of his face.

Nagito gave a light chuckle. “I love you too,”

After the two had spent a good amount of time sharing gentle kisses and rubbing noses and just generally being softly affectionate, they both turned to the horizon. The sun had begun to peek out, casting the sea in a light glow as dawn slowly creeped in. Nagito had his head rested against Hajime’s shoulder as Hajime let his own head rest against Nagito’s. The two would watch as the sun rose higher into the sky before being abruptly interrupted by a very nosy Ibuki, keen on seeing what the couple were doing. Eventually, one of them would have another panic-inducing nightmare and the other would be sat at his side and then the same would happen to said other another time. For now, however, they were watching as the sun made it’s peaceful ascent.

#fanfiction #komahina #komahina secret exchange

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gal-liveblogs · 5 years ago

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Time for more Homestuck 2.

Well, Gamzee is either dead or locked in a fridge. Hm, then again we never did see how he eventually got to Caliborn and eventually sliced in half and absorbed into Lil Cal. Maybe Homestuck 2 will finally show that progression of events? Eh, I kinda hope not. Just let us forget Gamzee existed at this point.

So dead Gamzee it is! This is clown lagostics in so far as our Vriskas are discussing logistics (I presume) while using a dead clown as a pillow. I must say, Vriska Lalonde looks quite fashionable.

Wait, when did (Vriska) get that eyepatch?

So now we officially have Vriska and Vrissy. I can get behind that.

We;re gonna meet Tavros Crocker. I’m excited to know what he looks like and how he reacts to Vriska. Also how Vriska reacts to him.

Aw, Tavros looks like a sweet boy. A huge nerd, but a sweet one.

YEAH, TAVROS! BEAT UP THAT CADAVER!

OH MY GOD, IS THAT HARRY ANDERSON? He sure takes a lot after Roxy.

Man, this is some serious teen drama we’re dealing with right now. Vrissy’s relationships, japes, and wanting to do Cool Things. Cool things like hide a body. Normal teen stuff.

VRISSY: I can’t stand watching you two fuck up this fucking 8ad.

TAVROS: Yes, please help us fuck up less,,

This is the mantra of any good relationship. I mean this with no irony.

By the way why are they taking Gamzee’s body into the school? Harry Anderson told them to wait outside for him and while he thought they were joking that is the best plan. How is carrying a dead troll around inside a human school helping with the whole “hide the body” plan?

Jesus Christ, they are making so much noise and now they have set off the sprinklers. How on Earth C are they going to get out of this without getting caught?

I just needed to appreciate these human kids for a moment. They have names. They have typing quirks. They know good internet content when they see it.

Either that Avril kid uploads videos fast or Mama Crocker has cameras installed in the human schools she can watch. Depite her own son stating he is homeschooled and thus would have never attended this establishment of education I do no doubt for one second Jane has spy cameras in the schools. Then again the layout of this page looks an awful lot like youtube so it probably was just fast uploading from a smart phone via bored teens.

Either way Jane is gonna be pissed. Not because Gamzee is dead, but because her precious son is now caught with a dead body and that just won’t do well for her image.

JANE: Oh, Tavros, no!

JANE: He wouldn’t--

JANE: Tavros loves his Gamzee! Those rebels must have captured my sweet baby and corrupted his mind.

JANE: My family! My entire family!

JANE: This cannot go unavenged.

O.K., so she has slightly better reasons to be upset. She’s wrong, but at least she’s not mad at her son.

Look at this cocky bastard. Pandemonium is practically breaking out and he has no idea.

I think he might have an idea now.

Yeah, oh fuck is right.

#homestuck 2 #homestuck 2 liveblog #gal liveblogs #liveblog

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wildflowerrambles · 7 years ago

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Flare

Author’s Note: I am a Luke girl. I am a Luke girl. I am a Luke girl. But apparently I decided to take the scenic route that belongs to Calum Hood SO

This idea popped into my head & I mean, who doesn’t enjoy the thought of Calum as a firefighter? Yes please. Also, I’ve apparently been watching too much Grey’s Anatomy lately.

I would love to hear your feedback and I really hope you enjoy! Happy reading! <3

Pairing: Firefighter!Calum Hood x Reader

Word Count: 6,149

Warnings: mentions of death, alcohol

I trudged my way across the grassy surface of the park, ignoring the ‘Please Do Not Walk on Grass’ signs. I shoved my keys into the front pocket of my pale green scrubs. The morning had been rather hectic, starting around 5am when my pager went off. Thankfully, it led to an opportunity to scrub in on a procedure in the OR.

I would be even more thankful when this surgical internship was over and I could hopefully move forward into residency. With the test coming up in a few weeks, it’s all I could think about.

Calum waved at me from the picnic table where he sat with a few of his coworkers, laughing as he realized I was avoiding the sidewalks. He and the others were dressed identically in black pants and tshirts with the fire departments logo across them.

I was just grateful to even get a lunch break and I imagine he was, too. Which was another reason I chose to ignore to silly signs littering the park.

I plopped down next to the brunette as the rest of the crew greeted me. Dumping the content of my lunchbox onto the table, I felt a little like I was back in elementary school, which was when I met Calum.

My older brother and I played soccer at the same sportsplex that Calum did. During the majority of my brother’s games, I found myself running around kicking the ball with the boys my age rather than braiding hair on the bleachers with the girls. I only knew him as one of the dudes who kept stealing the ball away from me back then.

As I entered high school, my brother was deployed overseas and my world continued to somersault after that. My parents picked us up and relocated across town before dropping me into a new school. I remember seeing Calum’s familiar face during lunch and was relieved when he didn’t shoo me away. We bonded over our mutual passion for soccer and common disdain for literary essays.

Since then, we had graduated high school and were dropped into adulthood. Calum honed in on his soccer skills for a while before choosing to pursue a different avenue. He had been volunteering with the local fire and rescue team and decided to do it full time.

I, on the other hand, pursued medical school - surgery, to be more specific. Science had always been my niche in school and something about human anatomy fascinated me. I wanted to cut things open, mend the broken; I wanted to be a surgeon.

I wrinkled my nose as I sniffed Calum’s shirt a second time.

“You smell like.. Is that kerosene?”

“And you smell like hospital,” he retorted. I nudged his elbow with mine as he cracked a smile. “We’ve been running drills in the warehouse this morning.”

I hummed, taking another bite of my sandwich.

“Why do you smell so hospital?” he asked.

“I got to help with an aortic valve replacement this morning.” I sat my sandwich down, knowing I was about to go all out talking with my hands. “I got to watch a heart beat right in front of me, okay. Not from the gallery. Not from a cadaver. But with my own two naked eyes. Do you know how cool that is? I-”

“Mm,” one of the guys across the table waved his hand, “Not at lunch.”

I chuckled, rolling my eyes a little. It amused me that these big, burly men could rush into burning buildings and be first responders but couldn’t handle a little anatomy talk. I suddenly heard the pager clipped to my waistband begin to beep. Pushing my top out of the way, I checked it.

“Sorry. I have to go.” I said, stuffing my food back into my bag. “Oh, and don’t forget - it’s another night of Shark Week, so I’ll see you after work.”

Calum gave me a thumbs up as his mouth was too full to speak. I jogged a few steps before turning back to the table to yell one last thing.

“And the boys are welcome to come!”

There was a knock on the door at a quarter until seven. I skipped away from the kitchen where I was making dinner, opening the door to find Calum standing on the other side. I apparently made a face which was his cue for explanation.

“Ashton’s family is in town. Michael is deep into a video game. And Luke-”

“Is running a little behind,” Luke chimed in as he appeared from the apartment stairs, “but brought a bottle of wine.”

I laughed, “Fitting.”

I bolted upright from sleep when I heard the familiar beeping going off somewhere in the distance. I untangled my legs from Calum’s lengthy ones from where he had fallen asleep opposite me on the couch. Stumbling through my slumber, I found my pager at the bottom of my purse. As soon as I stopped it from beeping, I heard Calum’s begin to go off in the living room followed by the creaking of the couch cushions.

I stepped into the laundry room to grab a clean pair of scrubs, tugging them on as Luke groaned from where he lay stretched out on the rug.

“You people need to get better jobs.”

“You’re welcome to go sleep in my bed,” I replied, looking up to see him already halfway there as I pulled on my tennis shoes.

Calum snatched his keys off the counter and headed out the door ahead of me. It was still dark outside. I glanced down at my watch then to realize it was 4:22am. Opening the door to my car, Calum did the same a few spaces over from me.

“Have a great day!” he yelled.

“You have a great day, too!”

Pacing down the hall, I watched as several gurneys wheeled past.

“Multi-car pile up,” one of the nurses said, shoving a clipboard in my hands, “Go find Dr. Bridges. I think she has some scans for you to look at.”

Clicking through the slides again on the computer, there were no signs for concern. Dr. Bridges had been paged back to the ER and left me with Alison, a fellow intern like myself. She told us to notify her if there were any concerns and thankfully, we couldn’t pinpoint any.

“Why do you smell like a boy?” Alison asked, snickering a little under her breath.

I raised a brow and shrugged. My clothes were clean.

“Oh,” I paused, “Calum fell asleep on my couch last night. His scent always seems to linger for some reason.”

She grinned at that.

“Wipe that look off your face before I smack it off.”

“Rude,” she laughed, “He’s at your house a lot. That’s all I’m saying.”

“He lives with three other guys. I would want to get away sometimes too if I were him,” I took the clipboard from Alison’s hands, scribbling down some notes in the patient’s chart. “Luke was there last night too. He’s probably still asleep at my house.”

I sprung up from my chair, heading to give the chart back to be signed off for release. Alison fell in beside me.

“I wasn’t implying anything. Just, given the history between you two-”

“Which was months ago,” I interjected.

“I was simply checking, that’s all. You can calm down.”

I shook my head at her as I tried to ignore the flush feeling in my cheeks.

Calum and I had kissed after a party several months ago. Liquid courage was my nemesis, and it seemed as if every time it entered my system after that night, the kissing kept happening. Things had gotten hot and heavy several times, but we drew the line at sleeping together.

After avoiding it for a while, we finally talked about it and hadn’t kissed each other since. He was my best friend, but the feelings that needed to correspond with such actions just weren’t really there.

I leaned against the nurses’ station, passing the clipboard to the nurse behind the desk and grabbing another one.

“She’s all good.”

“That’s what we like to hear,” the nurse smiled.

I flipped through the pages at hand as another round of gurneys burst through the double doors. I whipped my head around to the commotion. Dr. Bridges was already at the side of one stretcher as it wheeled past.

“Alison, go ahead and book an OR. You,” she nodded to me, “Catch Dr. Oliver when he comes in.”

I nodded as I heard the paramedics coming through the doors talking.

“Another round of the first responders were called in for backup and there was a collision on the way to the scene of the pile up. An engine and two police cars.”

My ears perked up at the man’s words. “Excuse me, did you say that a fire engine was involved in the accident?”

The man nodded.

“Do you happen to know which one? Uh, a name or number or something?”

He stuttered for a second before the guy next to him spoke up.

“I thought I overheard someone say Tabasco maybe,” he shrugged.

I felt my heart begin to beat faster.

“That’s Cal’s,” I mumbled, tossing my clipboard to the counter and taking off past the double doors. I made it outside as another ambulance had just pulled up and was opening its doors. I saw Calum sitting to the side as they pulled down the stretcher that I was relieved he wasn’t on, but my concern grew.

“Cal!”

His shirt was streaked with blood, a gash on his bicep oozing crimson.

“Calum!” I bounced to his side as someone handed a gauze to press against his wound.

“I’m okay,” he reassured, “The blood isn’t mine and I just need a few stitches. But that’s Cameron in there. That’s Cam.”

It was then that I noticed the tears in his eyes as he pointed in the direction of his friend and continued to ramble out of panic.

“Y/N!”

I turned to the source of yelling, seeing Dr. Oliver waving me in his direction.

“The patient’s spleen has already ruptured. We need to get him to surgery now. You’re scrubbing in.”

I glanced back to Calum who squeezed my hand.

“He’s one of my best friends. Please take care of him.”

I nodded, tightening my grip on his hand before darting off with Dr. Oliver.

I stood, holding the instruments in hands steady as Dr. Oliver worked across from me. Once inside, there had been much more damage than we initially suspected. The monitor began to beep frantically.

“His bp is dropping,” the doctor called out. There were people rushing around, supplies being passed back and forth, a whirlwind of things taking place around me in the crowded operating room.

I took a deep breath as I followed Dr. Oliver to the waiting area. I saw Calum sitting in the far corner, his arm freshly stitched and bandaged. He was surrounded by a few other guys from the station. He was the first to look up, locking eyes with me almost immediately.

His brows furrowed and I shook my head the slightest amount. His eyes fell and I stayed behind to allow Dr. Oliver to deliver the devastating news. I watched as their heads fell into their hands and tears began to run down my best friend’s face.

Calum gave up on fidgeting with his tie and walked over to where I was applying lipstick in the mirror. I pushed the black fabric into place, straightening his collar to lay flat.

Cam had started at the station the same day that Calum did. They had been placed on the same team since day one and had fought many fires together, ran into many smoldering building alongside one another. A few day ago, Cameron had been laughing at our lunch table and then I had to hear someone call his time of death.

There was no way I wasn’t going to be by my friend’s side and let him squeeze my hand so tight I thought it might break.

I looked up as Calum’s heavy lidded eyes stared down at my concentration. His eyes always reminded me of a fresh cup of coffee. The kind you would drink on a cool morning while the wind blew through your hair, peaceful and pleasant. But today they were filled with sadness.

“Ready to go?” I asked softly.

He nodded, grabbing his coat.

Calum was making small talk by the time we made it back to my apartment, which let me know that he was going to be okay. He had been incredibly quiet the past few days which was beginning to worry me, but little pieces of himself were starting to show again.

I had taken the morning off to be with him. Once he had fallen asleep on the couch, I decided to go on in for the evening shift. I covered him with a blanket and tip toed out the door.

I was still wearing my black dress and heels when I got to the hospital. Alison was waiting for me when I entered the locker room, sitting on one of the benches.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“Hard,” I sighed, unzipping my dress and pulling my top over my head, “But Cal’s gonna be okay.”

I slipped into the bottoms, lacing my tennis shoes before shoving my belongings into the open locker.

“Why didn’t you just change before you got here?” she asked, handing me my badge as I worked my hair into a ponytail.

“He fell asleep on my couch,” I waved a finger in her face when I saw a smirk begin to tug at the corners of her mouth, “Don’t even start.”

I tread lightly into my house a little after midnight, startled by the noise. Ashton and Michael sat on the couch, yelling at the video game on the tv screen. Calum balanced on the arm of the couch, screaming along with the other two.

“Um, hi?”

I kicked my shoes off at the door and tossed my keys next to my purse on the ground. They paused the game briefly to say hello as Calum pushed himself up and followed me into the kitchen.

“Where’s Luke?”

“He was in one of his moods where he plays music too loud and sits in the shower,” Michael answered bluntly, “We had to get out.”

I laughed as they went back to playing. Grabbing a water from the refrigerator, I turned to Calum who was leaning against the counter.

“Have you been drinking?” I asked.

He grinned, “What gave it away?”

“My house smells like popcorn. You only eat popcorn when you’ve discovered the stash of beer in the back of the refrigerator.”

“Guilty,” he shrugged with a grin, “How was work?”

I turned my back to him, reaching for an apple from the basket of fruit. I began cutting it into bite sized slices.

“Not too bad actually. I got to scrub in on an appendectomy and a cholecystectomy.”

As I continued slicing and rambling on about my evening, a pair of arms found their way around me, hands resting against the bar. I noted the familiar initials inked on them and before long felt Calum’s chest against my back. His lips ghosted over my neck, leaving a delicate trail behind. I bit away the tug of pleasure on my lips as I laid the knife I was cutting with down.

“What are you doing?” I mumbled under my breath. He reached for the ponytail holding my hair in place and tugged it loose. I spun on my heels, taking the stretchy band from his fingers and sliding it onto my wrist.

“You’ve had a long day,” I took the apple slices and wrapped them in a paper towels, “And I have rounds first thing in the morning, so I’m gonna head to bed. You guys are welcome to stay up. Just be sure to turn everything off before you go to sleep.”

Calum nodded before I headed to my room, shutting the door behind me.

I looked over at the time again before returning my eyes to the ceiling. I had been laying in bed for almost an hour and had yet to fall asleep. I could hear the boys still playing video games in the living room, but that wasn’t why. I could fall asleep just about anywhere. Noise didn’t bother me.

I kept thinking back through all the times Calum and I had locked lips over the past few months. And then to the conversation we had about keeping the recreational smooches to a bare minimum. We knew we weren’t trying to send each other mixed signals; it was best if we just cut out that bit so our friendship didn’t stand the chance of getting weird.

So why was I so put off by his advances tonight? It wasn’t the drinking. We’d been tipsy in every other occasion. I didn’t want to blame it on the fact that he’d just lost a friend. Typically in emotional situations, he’s light a cigarette and get back to business, which I’d seen him do lately.

Was it because the other boys were in the next room?

I turned on my side, burying my face in the pillow with a groan. I desperately needed to fall asleep, like an hour ago.

Life was back to being fast paced.

I sat across the table from Calum outside at a local coffee shop. It was well past 10pm and I was trying not to choke on my food from laughing so hard. There were very few people out at this hour, most of them like us with jobs that had chaotic schedules.

“I can’t believe he did that,” I wiped my hand on a napkin, shaking my head, “Actually, yes I can. It totally sounds like something he would do.”

Calum let out an audible sigh as laughter died in the back of his throat. He rubbed his thumb over the glass of his cup that was accumulating moisture. I pulled my knee into my seat, resting my chin against it.

“Gotta stay at the station tonight?”

“Yep. I’m on call.” Calum checked his watch before scooting his chair back and gathering his trash. “I should probably head that way.”

I followed suit in cleaning up my area, stalking next to the tall boy as he walked me to my car. Like the gentleman Mrs. Joy and Mr. David raised him to be, he opened my door and motioned me inside. He paused to lean against the open door.

“I think we’re planning to meet Mali for drinks tomorrow night if you want to come.”

“Heck yeah,” I grinned lazily, “Just let me know when you get off work.”

“I will,” he nodded as he forced himself to stand straight. “Drive safe.”

The buzzing atmosphere of the bar smothered me the moment I stepped inside. I managed my way through the sea of people over to the corner where I saw the boys standing around.

“Hey,” I cooed excitedly as I tugged on the arm of Calum’s leather jacket. He greeted me with a beaming grin as he turned around, drinking sloshing in his hand. His eyes wasted no time scanned the length of my figure.

“Well, don’t you look extra nice tonight,” he noted.

I bit my lip, running my fingertips along the fabric of the tee he wore underneath, pinching the material lightly.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, mister fireman.”

I spotted Mali walking back up from getting a drink at the bar and waved. Wiggling my way through to give her a hug, I noticed Calum place his hand in the small of my back to allow me past him. It lingered a little longer than I felt necessary, and I caught him doing it randomly throughout the night. It was a small gesture, one that felt foreign yet familiar all at once.

As the night drew to a close, we each caught an Uber in groups to head back to our respective homes. My face tingled from the alcohol in my system as I peered out the window. Mali was still talking animatedly with her brother next to me.

Her place was the first stop. The two of us waved goodbye and promised to meet up again with her soon. Next was Calum’s house. From the looks of it, the other three boys had already made it back, several lights being turned on throughout the place.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight,” I said, leaning into his side.

“Anytime,” he smiled, “Let me know you make it home safely, okay?”

I nodded, his brown eyes staring down at me. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to my cheek before scooting out the door.

Turning my gaze forward, I noticed the driver looking at me in the rear view mirror.

“What?”

He shrugged, his voice pleasant, “You guys are cute.”

Instead of arguing the fact, I allowed myself to not fight the heat rising in my cheeks, a grin daring to creep up with it.

“Thanks.”

I met Luke on the sidewalk as I made my way to their front door, Petunia’s nails clicking as she walked happily next to him.

“Cal should be clothed but I make no promises about the others,” he said. Always reassuring, I thought. “But fair warning - he’s not in the greatest of moods.”

Upon entering, I could hear piano chords being played from the back of the house but no voices. The other boys must be upstairs. Dropping my keys in a nearby chair, Calum’s dog rounded the corner and made a b-line to me, wagging his tail enthusiastically around my ankles.

“Hey there buddy.”

Duke always did bring out the soft side of me, causing me to talk to him in my baby voice. It was a little embarrassing at times. After satisfying him with pets, he trailed along beside me as I made my way through the downstairs.

Calum sat at the piano, still dressed simply in black shorts and a white tee with a black cap over his messy hair. They must have drilled today at the station.

Sneaking up behind him, I poked him gently in the side. His body flinched slightly before he turned his head to find it was just me. I leaned against the edge of the piano as his fingers continued to roam across the black and white keys until he finally came to a stop.

“Not a great day, huh?” I asked softly.

He rubbed his eyes as he let out a single chuckle; he shook his head.

“It was the new guy’s first day.” he paused as I took a seat on the piano bench beside him. “I remember what it was like to be new and not really know what I was getting into. And I know he’s coming in under unfortunate circumstances, but.. He’s not Cameron.”

Calum let his index finger hit a key lazily at random. I could tell he was still deep in his thoughts.

“What’s the first thing I do when I meet a patient for the first time? Or when I’m reporting to an attending?”

He looked down at me, his brows knitting together.

“Their name,” I answered, “I say their name. It helps us to establish a sense of relationship with the patient. What’s the new guy’s name?”

“Uh.. Graham.”

“Greet him that way,” I let me fingertips tuck themselves away underneath his arm, his hand gripping the seat. I leaned a little closer. “You said you remember what it was like, and he probably feels out of place. But he will never take the place of Cameron. You know that.”

He nodded subtly as his gaze fell to my finger tracing the horseshoe inked on his forearm. I stared at his solemn expression, his weary eyes.

“Go get your cleats,” I stated. He looked up at me with confusion.

“What?”

“Go get your cleats.”

“Why?”

“Just go grab your cleats!” My tone was more demanding than either of us expected, but he stood up and headed for the stairs. “And meet me at my car.”

“Is this considered breaking and entering?” Calum asked as I fumbled with the lock on the gate. There was a large enclosed field a few blocks from the hospital. It was dark now and the stadium lights had automatically switched on.

“I know the lock combination. We use this place all the time for events, and I work at the hospital so I’m taking my chances.”

He chuckled, tossing the soccer ball back and forth between his hands. Pushing the gate open, he darted around me, dropping the ball to the ground and kicked it forward. I dropped my belonging to the grass as I heard a low rumble of thunder in the distance.

I rolled my eyes as Calum showed off some of the many tricks he still had.

“Are you gonna pass me the ball or not?” I yelled.

About that time, the ball zoomed past me. My mouth fell open. Calum laughed.

“You have to be ready at all times!”

I shook my head and turned to chase the ball. I stared down at the purple and turquoise cleats I’d gotten back when I first started college as I passed the ball between them.

Calum had always been so good at soccer. I remember envying him in high school and thinking he was absolutely insane when he gave it up. But he was also an insanely good fireman so I guess I couldn't give him too much grief for it.

Calum bent forward, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. I took advantage of the moment, kicking the ball past him and snatching the hat off his head along the way. He threw his hands up; I grinned, pulling it on over my head, the end of my ponytail hanging rather loose around my neck. I did a little dance as I kicked the ball into our makeshift goals.

“You have to be ready at all times!” I mocked. He placed a hand on his hip before pulling the hem of his shirt up to wipe sweat from his forehead. The dark curls he had concealed were now on full display.

I felt a bit of moisture run down my arm. Thinking it was sweat, I ignored it until I felt it again. And again.

Calum and I both turned our faces to the sky as raindrops began to pour. I noticed the droplets begin to drench his already sweaty tshirt. He’d chosen a great day to wear white.

I wasn’t phased by a little rain and darted down the field while my friend was still distracted. He snapped out of it pretty quick, sprinting in my direction. He managed to snatch the ball from underneath me.

Quick to act, I stuck myself in front of him. I managed to steal the ball back but he immediately intersected and got it again. I snarled lightheartedly, sticking my arms out as he tried to get around me.

“Hey, that is not fair,” he said in my ear. I giggled as he continued to struggle, watching mud that had begun to form hit my socks. “Y’know what?”

I felt Calum wrap his arms around my midsection and lift me up. He kicked the ball as hard as he could to send it out of my reach before spinning us in a circle; chuckles fell from our mouths.

My feet finally planted the ground as Calum’s became tangled with mine, sending us tumbling to the soggy grass. Another wave of laughter escaped us as I sat up and looked over to Calum who was laying on his back, letting the raindrops continue to cover him.

My breathing began to steady as he peered up at me. Sitting up, he plucked the black cap off my head that I’d stolen earlier, pulling it over his saturated locks. He flashed me a grin as I shoved his shoulder.

We took the opportunity to race for the building just outside the wire fencing that provided an awning to escape the rain. I plopped down on the cement, stripping free of my cleats and dirty socks. Cal hung his hat on his knee and ran a hand through his hair. I listened to the rain fall, peaceful and steady; it had picked up a little now.

“Cam was planning to propose to his girlfriend,” Cal mumbled after being quiet for a while. “He had a ring and everything.”

I scooted back to lean against the wall next to him, sadness washing over me.

“Tragedy makes you question a lot of things. I know we stare death in the face almost daily, but it’s different when it hits so close to home,” he paused and I nodded in agreement. “I like you.”

His statement caused me to stop rubbing at the dirt on my hands and look at him. I saw his jaw flex before he continued to speak.

“And not in the ‘it’s 2am and I’m stuck trying to fall asleep in an uncomfortable bunk bed by myself at the station’ sense. But the.. ‘2 in the afternoon when I have to run errands after an early morning call’ kind. I find myself wondering if you were able to finish your breakfast before rounds, or if you skipped lunch and settled for a cup of coffee so you could scrub in on some awesome surgery.”

He finally looked me in the eyes, “I like you, and I’ve only ever kissed you when I was drinking because at least I’d have something to blame it on if things went wrong. And I am strangely sober right now.”

I stifled a laugh as he smirked. His gaze went back to his feet, playing with a loose string on the hemming of his shorts. I took a moment to admire him. I was also strangely sober, and he apparently didn’t know I had been fighting the same feelings.

As my eyes flickered down to his lips, my hand reached over and took his chin. I leaned over and pressed our lips together. After a moment, I felt him relax into the unexpected action. His hand found my waist and gently drew me closer.

It wasn’t like the kisses we shared before that were sloppy and erratic. It was purposeful, filled with intent and emotion. He nipped at my bottom lip a little which caused me to smirk a bit.

Another roar of thunder is what pulled us apart, the sound closer than it had been before. Calum bit at his lower lip, trying hard not to grin so wide.

“We should probably get going,” he muttered, his forehead resting against mine.

I pushed myself off the ground as he did the same, bending over to pick up my things. He stepped out into the rain to head back to the field to grab the soccer ball we’d left behind. I noted the amount of mud covering the back of his shirt from when we’d fallen earlier.

“Hey,” I called. He paused just inside the gate to turn my way. “You better not get the inside of my car muddy!”

He smirked with his tongue between his teeth before reaching over his head and pulling off his shirt, tossing it for me to catch. I shook my head as I caught it, warmth rising in my cheeks as I watched him jog off shirtless.

The hospital had been insane as of late with long demanding shifts and people competing for surgeries. But I still smiled a little when I thought about the fact that I had passed my exam and was finally a first year resident.

I dropped onto the couch the second I made it home. I probably hadn’t slept in about 40+ hours; my feet were killing me and I was beyond exhausted.

Nearly asleep, I heard the knob of my front door being turned followed my heavy footsteps. Calum’s scent hit me before he ever did. I groaned when I felt his body weight press down on me, his arms on either side of my body as he pressed a kiss to my cheek.

“I was almost asleep,” I whined.

“I’m sorry,” he answered, giving my cheek another peck. He sat up and began to strip off his jacket, laying it on the coffee table. Next, he moved to his shoes, kicking them off. He took an extra second to pull my own shoes off because I’d been too lazy to do so before he settled back on the couch with me. I snuggled my back closer to his chest as he brushed my hair away from my face.

“Are you going to be free Friday night?” he asked low in my ear. I nodded, eyes still closed. “We’re having a banquet in memory of Cameron, and I would love for you to come with me.”

“Of course I will,” I rested my hand on top of his, “But for now - snuggles and sleeps.”

He let out a low chuckle in my ear and I felt chill bumps forming on my skin.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, pressing his lips to the base of my neck.

Calum stuck his arm out and I happily looped mine through his. As we made our way to the front of the venue, he caught me checking him out again. He looked so handsome in his button up tucked neatly in his black trousers. I couldn’t help myself.

I placed a quick kiss on his lips before rounding the corner with him to the entrance. After greeting the chief and finding our table, he slipped off to speak to a few colleagues. I wandered over to the refreshments to grab each of us a drink. I got in line behind a lady who looked to be around my age. She looked familiar but I couldn’t put a name with the face.

“Hi, I’m Amelia,” she said sweetly, offering her hand to shake, “I was Cameron’s girlfriend.”

Was. That’s why I recognized her. I introduced myself and I could tell she was trying to place me as well.

“I’m Calum’s girlfriend,” I added. That was the first time I’d really said those words aloud to someone and I couldn’t contain the extra bit of enthusiasm. I just hated that she happened to be the recipient of it.

She laughed, “Ah, yes. It’s about time. The few times Calum and Cam hung out, he would mention you. Cam always tried to get him to make a move. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the young lady he spoke so highly of.”

“Well thank you,” I was flattered. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

We got our drinks and went our separate ways back to our seats. Calum had already made it back and glanced up as I sat his drink in front of him. He gave a grateful smile before taking a sip. He caught me staring again, but this time it wasn’t just because of his dashing looks.

“Are you checking me out again?” he asked, taking another sip. I snickered, lacing our fingers together.

“I adore you, y’know that?”

His features lit up gradually, a smile reaching all the way to his eyes. He squeezed my hand and brought the back of it to his lips.

“I adore you, too.”

We turned our attention to the stage as the lights began to dim and the chief began to speak.

“Thank you so much to each of you for coming out tonight in memory of someone very special to us. I’ve actually asked a close friend of Cameron’s to come speak a few words. Please give a warm welcome to Mr. Calum Hood.”

I joined in applause with the other guests. Calum hadn’t told me he’d been asked to speak, which was probably to ease his nerves a bit. I watched as he took the stage and began to recap certain moments in his friendship with Cameron.

Unfortunately, tragedy often does make us rethink our own lives. It puts things in perspective.

I realized that my life was now filled with pagers and surgeries and schedules that screwed up my sleep. Before long I’d be taking on a fresh set of interns that had the same high hopes as me, and I’d get to come home to Calum in a way I hadn’t before.

I realized that this was my life, and that was my man.

And I couldn’t be more grateful.

#calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood fic #5sos imagine #5sos fic #5sos #wildflowerrambles

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