#also half the town has no sidewalk either

[codenamesazanka]

Saw some Spinaraki kid OCs so I decided to try my hand at it too. Though it's less happy family kidfic and more resentfully making Heroes and Deku face consequences post-canon. Sorry.

the Spinaraki lovechild:

Shirakata Masanori | 白方正憲

Age: 15

Appearance: Lizard heteromorph. Black hair, pink eyes, white scales.

Quirk: Adhesion. Decay's spreading effect + Gecko's sticking trait. Anything object Masanori touches and remain in contact with will adhere with anything the object is also touching. If he touches a sidewalk, everyone on it will be stuck and trapped, unable to move their feet.

result of Spinner and Shigaraki getting together post-Deika/pre-surgery. super unexpected.

three months after Shigaraki went in for surgery, Spinner pops out an egg (please go with it)

During Heroes' raid on the PLF Villa, Spinner entrusts egg to ReDestro. Unfortunately, when everyone got arrested, egg gets swept up in custody capture of MLA kids.

With no one to claim the egg, it is placed in orphanage; all contact is then lost.

Egg hatches after war, at end of August.

Spinner was never able to tell Shigaraki about their kid due to the possession.

He decides not to say anything to the Heroes either. Doesn't trust them after Shigaraki got killed, and better that the kid doesn't grow up stigmatized for having terrorists as parents.

But Spinner does leave a letter with his court-appointed lawyer, hoping that one day it will reach the kid, when they come of age.

Spinner dies early due to effects of having multiple quirks; dies ten years after war

The lawyer, deciding to just finish up this assignment cleanly, finds the kid 4 years later and delivers the letter despite the kid not reaching age of majority.

Despite half-assed mild societal change efforts, Masanori grows up an orphan in the system, with the additional stigma of being an PLF raid kid (and therefore very likely the child of dead/arrested Villains/criminals)

Abandoned, unnamed babies in Japan are named by the city/town's mayor. Masanori was named with the kanji "white-direction correct-law" in hopes that he would become a law-abiding citizen (unlike his unknown parents). The Mayor is an asshole.

(Though Shirakata is a real surname, and chosen because kid has white scales)

Early on, Masanori looked out into the world and realized it doesn't want him, made it clear he doesn't belong. So he accepted it.

However, he knows the path of Villainy only leads to doom.

His caretakers drilled that into the PLF raid kids. Quirk counseling emphasized it a lot. So did teachers. Everyone.

He’s (reluctantly) played the ‘Villain’ in enough playground games that ends with the ‘Heroes’ pretending to smash him to pieces or explode him to nothing, because everyone has seen the war footage.

And he’s known too many people who salivate over the satisfaction of proving his blood is irreparably criminal.

So he won't be a Villain.

He just wants to leave - leave the orphanage, leave the city, leave Japan. Maybe travel the world alone forever.

Masanori is: very solitary, utterly disinterested in people, self-reliant, pragmatic, opportunistic, clever enough but can bite off more than he can chew

Masanori doesn't really have any sentimental feelings about his parents; or rather, he feels there's no point to dwell on it

He always knew he was the son of criminals. Discovering that he's the son of the most notorious criminals is somewhat cool, but Spinner and Shigaraki are long dead and gone.

When Masanori first received the letter, there was a satisfaction to finally knowing, nearly a sense of destiny. So he read the League of Villains memoir. He read the manuscript drafts that he inherited from Spinner. He did a lot of research.

(In the letter, Spinner admits that the kid was a surprise, that Shigaraki never knew, and Spinner himself doesn't know anything about the kid and will likely go to his grave not knowing.

They dealt the kid a shit hand.

Saying something cliche like they loved the kid they never knew would be hollow; and besides, Spinner and Shigaraki were twisted and distorted people. Villains. So the truth is, the kid is likely better off without them.

But.

Spinner wishes he and Shigaraki could've known the kid, and he regrets that neither of them were able to stay alive and free.

Spinner also writes that if Shigaraki knew about the kid, he knows Shigaraki would've tried to give them the world.)

But eventually, for Masanori, the end result of all that is realizing that there's nothing to be done with this information. Spinner and Shigaraki don't know him, and he doesn't know them; never will. They were criminals, they were young and stupid, they picked a fight and lost, and they left him behind.

All he has is still just himself.

...and this new knowledge he might be able to use to his advantage.

Which is why Masanori decides to confront the Hero Deku and demand compensation for the death of his parents and other hardships

Age 15, Masanori arrives at Deku's agency, carrying Spinner's letter that is his only proof

But just looking at Masanori convinces Deku. Kid's appearance is basically Tenko in lizard heteromorph form, but even his demeanor reminds Deku of Shigaraki - aloof but intense, determined. (tho he is still younger, less hostile, a bit stiff in nervousness)

Deku is shocked, guilty, suspicious, already wants to help, appalled at the extortion attempt. Ready for a conflict.

At least until he hears Masanori's demands:

Guaranteed admission to UA's General Studies Program, a recommendation letter, as well as a stipend all three years that Masanori is in high school.

And that's it.

Masanori has only an okay school record.

He did not have an enriching school life.

He's been accused of delinquent behavior - mostly suspected small theft and 'incidents' with other students

(They could never actually prove he stole anything; and the incidents he get into are always with the more aggressive classmates. They're not so much fights as pranks, and the bullying usually ceases immediately afterwards.)

High school is not mandatory in Japan, and minors legally can start work at age 15, so Masanori has been "asked"/expected to leave the orphanage after middle school. Jin Scenario

Not a very bright future. But he was ready for it... until he received Spinner's letter.

Suddenly.

If Masanori gets into UA High School, an elite national school, with recommendation from a world-renowned and beloved Hero, it's leaving the orphanage, leaving his hometown, starting a new life.

(General Studies program because he has zero interest in being a Hero.)

Graduate and better prepared to leave everything behind and travel the world alone forever.

Opportunity of a lifetime. He will shamelessly seize it.

Masanori's not blackmailing Deku or anything - nothing to blackmail, since no one cares Deku killed Shigaraki, and admitting he's the son of terrorists is social death. He's relying entirely on Deku's heroism.

Even if his Shigaraki was a Villain that Deku had to kill for the good of the world, that was still his father. Deku will feel compassion and guilt for Masanori.

Because Deku is a hero.

Manipulative? Yes. Is he unqualified for UA? Yes. But Masanori wants a chance at having more to life.

And Deku has to face what he (and All Might, and OFA) never actually did: resolve the continued rejection and ostracization problem in quirk society, and the cycle of Shimura tragedy

Because it's quickly obvious Masanori is just like his parents: given up on the world, given up on people. He's just not dangerous about it.

But his heart is empty. He has never been saved. And he no longer wants to be.

In other words: this time, Deku has to truly save someone that's been failed and rejected by this society he upholds. even if easy mode too because Masanori is not a villain. but is less receptive than a seven-year-old. or someone already having Pro-Hero aspirations

[fandomtherapy44]

castiel x reader

Summary: This story is from the perspective of Y/n Winchester. The sister Of Dean and Sam. We will be starting from season four since sadly we did not get Misha Collins as Castiel throughout the whole series. It will start off as a friendship, but it will grow more as the series goes on. I will be skipping some episodes even though they are great episodes they do not push the story forward. I am so excited to get to write this since they are not many Castiel X reader stories out there. Okay without further due Love War & Grace enjoy the Story.

Paring: Castiel X Reader

Word count: 6,000

Warnings: Some language, Typical Supernatural violence, Spoilers for season four of Supernatural

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Chapter Three: In the Beginning

Y/n’s POV:

“ No, please don’t leave Me!” I wake up suddenly shooting up from my bed. These nightmares are getting more real every time I close my eyes. I go to get some water. I hear wings flapping and turn around to see Cas standing there. “Cas?” “Hello, Y/n what were you dreaming about?” He said in his usual gruff voice. “ Nevermind that. What are you doing here at four in the morning?” I said not wanting to answer that question “I am here to for your brother and you to stop something”

‘’Stop what?” I questioned as he came up close and gently put his fingers on my forehead.

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“Move it buddy and Mam you can't sleep here.” I heard this voice talking to me and noticed that I was not lying in bed anymore. “Okay... sleep... where?” Dean said sleepy, wait Dean. “Anywhere but here.” The voice said as he was walking away. “Y/n why are you sleeping on the sidewalk?” Dean asked me in disorientation. I opened my eyes and somehow I was sleeping in front of a bus bench. “I have no idea the last thing I remember is falling asleep in my own room after having a beer. Maybe there was more in the beer than I thought, well that's the last time I take anything compaltry from a motel. Why are you sleeping on a bus bench?” I asked, half confused, half asleep. “I have no idea either, let's see if we can find out” He said as he pulled out his phone.

“Perfect,” he said with sarcasm. “Let me try”. “ What the Hell?” I'm so annoyed that I almost threw my phone down. “Okay let's just recollect ourselves and try to think about what happened” Dean said trying to calm not just myself but him too. “Did Castiel visit you last night?’” “ He asked me. “Yes he did, he said you and I had to stop something. Cas you son of a …”. “ He said the same thing to me too. Also Cas? Since when did you get a nickname for him? " "Well I think it's easier than saying his full name every time.” “ right, guess that makes sense. Let’s go to that diner and get some coffee, to ask around and to put ourselves together.” Dean said gesturing up at a Blue Jay Diner.

As we are walking in I'm hoping that Cas has a good reason for us to be here. 

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As we walked in I noticed that the whole diner and everyone looked like they were stuck in the 70’s. “ Must be a convention in town” I commented. Dean and I sat next to this guy who looks in his early 20s. “Hey, where the hell are we?” Dean asked the man. “Jay Bird's Diner.” He answered honestly.  “Yes thank you for that heh he just meant what state and city?’’ I asked him with a kinder approach. “Lawrence, Kansas.” Lawrence why the hell Lawrence I thought. “Hey, you okay guys?” “ Yes, we just had a difficult night, thanks.” I answered him thinking that was nice of him to ask. ” Hey, uh, two coffees here, Reg.” “ Thank you” “ No Problem.” Dean pulled his phone out again trying to get single. ”Can you tell me where I can get reception on this thing?” Dean asked the man. “The USS Enterprise?” The man said looking weird at the phone. “Ha, that’s a good joke’’ I said laughing. “What joke?” he asked as Reg came over with some coffees. “Thanks... nice threads. You know Sonny and Cher broke up, right?” Dean said joking as usual.

“Sonny and Cher broke up?” The man said concerned. I looked around until my eyes landed on the newspaper. I elbow Dean to get his attention. “Ow Y/n what the He-” he stopped when he saw the same. “Nixon accepts resignation of top… and the date is Monday, April 30, 1973.” We do not even have time to process that because we learn who this stranger is next to us. “Hey, Winchester.” Dean and I both go to respond but instead the man does. “Son of a bitch. How you doing, Corporal?” “Hey, Mr. D.” “I heard you were back.” “Yeah, a little while now.” “Good to have you home, John, damn good.” John? Dad. “Well, say hello to your old man for me.” “You got it, Mr. D.” The man John was talking to walked away and he noticed us staring at him like we had seen a ghost. Well, I guess that’s true. "Do we know each other?” John had asked, looking at us both. “I guess not.” Dean said, answering for us. “Take it easy, guys” “Yeah you too” I said while looking into his eyes. I guess that is a pretty good reason for us to be sent here.

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We are following well I guess our dad when I bump into Cas. “whoa” I said, almost falling but he caught me. “uh thank you” we stared into each other's eyes for a second.”you're welcome’’ he let go of me and when he did I felt colder. “What is this?” Dean asked Cas. “What does it look like?” “ Is this … real?” I asked hoping this was not a dream. “Very.” He answered looking at both of us. “Okay, so what? Angels got their hands on some DeLoreans? How did we get here?” He gestured to us. “Time is fluid, Dean, Y/n. It's not easy, but we can bend it on occasion.”Well bend it back or tell us what the hell we're doing here!” “I told you, you have to stop it.” Cas said in his monotone gruff voice and as usual not making sense. “Stop what? Huh? What, is there something nasty after our Dad?” We hear a car beep and turn back and Cas is gone. “Oh, come on! What, are you allergic to straight answers, you son of a bitch?!” Dean said angry which is fair but I trust him I have too.

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John is talking to the car salesman looking at an old van oh no we can’t let that happen. Dean and I walk over to the beautiful classic 1967 chevy Impala leaning against it. “You two following me?” I answered “No, no, we were just passing by. And we never got to thank you for that cup of coffee this morning. we were a little out of it.” “More than a little.” “Let us repay the favor.” Dean said, patting baby. “This is the one you want.” “Oh yeah, you – you know something about cars?” Dean and I nodded our heads looking at the engine. “Yeah... yeah, our Dad taught us everything we know.” I said, smiling a bit. “And this – this is a great car.” Dean said, opening the hood. “327 four barrel, 275 horses. A little TLC and this thing is cherry.” “You know man, you're right.” John said, sounding excited. “Then what are you buying that thing for?” Dean said, nodding at the van. “Dean, John can buy any car he wants and I'm sure it’s for a good reason.”

She’s right. I kinda promised someone I would. "Over a '67 Chevy? I mean, come on, this is the car of a lifetime. Trust me, this thing's still gonna be badass when it's 40.” John looks like he’s grateful. "John Winchester. Thanks.” John said, holding out his hand for us to shake. We shake his hand. “Dean Van Halen, this is my sister Y/n – and thank you.” we were in pretty rough shape this morning, huh?” “No kidding.” I've been hung over before but, hey, I was, I was getting chills in that diner. You didn't feel any of those cold spots, did you?” Ah, I know what Dean is  doing. I joined in. “I swore I smelled something weird too, you know? Like... like rotten eggs. You didn't happen to smell any sulfur by chance?” “No to both.” He answered, getting annoyed. “No... There been any cattle mutilations in town recently?” Okay that's pushing it. “Okay, mister, Mam! Stop it.”.”Yeah, if only we knew what to stop. Listen, uh – watch out for yourself okay?” I said to him. "Yeah, sure.” When we were walking away we heard John confirming the sale for the impala. 

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We stole a car and now are following dad in the impala. He stops in front of a house and a young beautiful blonde woman comes out to hug him. Dean and I both say at the same time. “Mom?”

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We are now watching them have a date in a little booth with milkshakes. “I can't believe this, she looks so beautiful’’ I said wanting to cry because I never got to know mom like Sam and Dean did. “Yeah she is’’. Then we hear a voice behind us. “Why are you following us?” It was mom. We turn around and she attacks us. “Are you crazy?” She is kicking our asses. But Dean grabs her behind her arms and holds her to the wall.”Okay, how about we talk about this, huh?” “Dean! let her go look at her wrist’’ I point out at the charm bracelet. I walk up to her and asked “Are you a hunter?” 

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My parents are saying goodbye and they look so in love. Mary walks up to us. “Dean and y/n right? I'm not sure you should come in.” Mary said with hestion. “You can trust us. I mean, come on, we're all hunters, right? I mean, we're – we're practically family.” Dean said with a convincing tone. “Yeah, thing is, my Dad, he's a little, um…” Wait, grandpa is still alive? I thought. “Dean and I would love to meet him. We've heard so many great stories about him.” “You've guys heard of him?” She asked. “Well clearly not enough.” I said with a smile trying to contain myself that I'm actually meeting my family.

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“So, you're a hunters? Well, tell me something, mister and miss hunter, you kill vampires with wooden stakes or silver?” Grandpa asked, I did not know he was such a hardass. “Neither, you cut their heads off.” I answered proudly. ”So, did we pass your test?” Dean asked with hope. “Yep. Now get out of my house” Grandpa said yep definitely a hardass. “Dad!” Mary said, she can't believe her father right now. “I don't trust other hunters, Dean, Y/n don't want their help, don't want them around my family.” “Knock it off, Samuel.” Grandma said from the other room, setting the table and putting grandpa in his place. “They are hunters.” “Who passed your little pop quiz, and now I am inviting them to dinner. Are you hungry?” She asked us. “That sounds great, thank you.” I said I was trying to be on my best behavior. “Good. I'm Deanna, you've met my husband Samuel, and Mary's younger sister Y/n sadly passed away when she was younger. now wash up.” I was named after her sister. I didn't even know mom had a sister. I looked at Mary.”Samuel and Deanna and Y/N ?” I asked as she nodded her head at me. I wonder what her sister was like.

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 “So Dean, Y/n this your first time here.” “Well, it's been a while. Things sure have changed... we think.” Dean answered. “You two working a job?” Samuel asked. “Yeah, maybe.” Dean!” I said surprised. “I'm sorry about my brother, he forgets his manners sometimes.” I said while glaring at him. “ That's okay, it's good to know that he's guarded like that.” “My sister is right, I should've responded like that, it's just I don't trust other hunters either, Samuel.” Dean apouligzed which surprised me. “Hey, um, so why were you following me and John?” Mary asked us. “Mmm, we thought something was after your, um, boyfriend, but um, we don't think that anymore.” I answered. “John Winchester mixing it up with spirits, can you imagine?” Deanna said while Samuel looked annoyed at the mere mention of John’s name. “I saw that.” Mary told her dad not letting him get away with it. “What?” Samuel answered incently. “That sour lemon look.” “Now hold on, John's a really, really nice... naive civilian.” So Grandpa hated dad, good to know. “So what? You'd rather me be with a guy like this?” Mary said while nodding at Dean. “Oh god no no you would not want to be with him.’’ I answered for him. “Yes she's right I think, you don't want to be with a guy like me.” Dean said a little offended. “Mary, of course not, it's just that I ��” Samuel said trying to smooth this over. “That's enough, both of you, we have company.” Deanna had told them. “So what about you, Samuel, you, uh, working a job?” Dean asked curiously. 

“Might be.” damn hunters do not like sharing. “He's working a job on the Whitshire Farm.” Mary answered being a little petty. Maybe that's where I get it. “Whitshire, why does that name sound familiar to me?” Dean said and he's right we've heard that name before. “Well, it's been all over the papers. Tom Whitshire. Got tangled up in a combine a few towns over.” “ Those things do happen sometimes” I said. “So why was he on it in the first place when his crops are all dead?” “ Demon omens” I said, confirming it. “That's what I gotta find out.” “What about the rest of the town? Well, did you find anything on the web? ...Of information that you have assembled.” Nice save dean I thought with sarcasm. “Electrical storms maybe. The weather service graphs should be here on Friday.” Grandma told us. Sounds like demons to me. “By mail?” Dean asked. “Of course by mail Dean sorry were just used to getting things by ourselves” They look a little weird at us. I bring Dean over to the side. “Did you forget that we are in the 70s or did you hit your head. so please try to stop the 2000's references, Marty mcfly please?” “ Yes I will, sorry it's just hard.” “ Yeah I know I keep On pulling out my phone but we got this okay” “yeah okay” “ Great break.” “You know, it sounds to me like we might be hunting the same thing. You know if we go in there in numbers, we could take care of this real quick.” Dean said, referring to us. “What part of “we work alone” do you not understand, son?” Samuel said and I don't blame him but come on we're trying to figure out a back to the future mystery here throw us a bone will ya.

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Dean and I go up to the Whitshire house. “This is stupid why did I have to be a nun?” I asked, pulling on my head piece a little. “Because it makes sense and it helps me look like a real priest, it's also a little funny.” Dean said, trying to hold back his laugh. I almost slap him but Mrs.Whitshire opens the door just in time.

We are walking to the door after her interview. When someone knocks on the door. We open it to see Samuel standing there in the same get up as Dean. “Father, sister, I see you beat me here.” “The Lord is funny that way. Beth Whitshire, this is our associate, our senior, senior priest, Father Chaney.” We walk next to Grandpa. “Please accept our deepest condolences on behalf of the county diocese.” Grandpa said handing her a fruit cake yeah nothing says I'm sorry like a cake no one eats. “Mrs. Whitshire was just telling us all about Tom, and how normal and ordinary things were the day before his death.” I see, so you didn't notice anything unusual, ma’am?” Samuel asked. “You mean like my husband’s guts fertilizing the back 40?” “Awkward” I whisper under my breath. Samuel is having a hard time to answer so Dean and I walk over to Mary and the victim’s son.  

“Charlie, would you like to tell the Father and Sister here what you just told me?” Mary said to us. “Dad drank sometimes. Sometimes he got rough with Mom.” “And that's when the stranger came?” “I just thought he was some Bible thumper, like you all. He showed up about a week ago.” Interesting I thought. “Saying what?” Dean asked. “Did I want the beatings to stop? I just thought he was crazy, I didn't think – and the next thing I know, Dad's dead. Am I going to jail?” poor kid. “You didn't do this, Charlie.” I told making sure that he knew. “Did the stranger want something in return?” Dean asked him. “He didn't want anything.” Huh, not likely. “Come on, Chuck, he wasn't just handing out freebies now, was he?” Dean said being not wrong. “He did say something about comin' a callin' ten years from now. Maybe he'd want something then.” Oh no, all this kid wanted was peace. “Something like what?” I asked terrified for his answer.”I don't know, okay? Look, I told you he was nuts.” Mary pulls Dean and I to the side. “What do you think?” “I think this kid has no idea that he just shook hands with the devil.” I said looking at Charlie Sadly. “Charlie, do you remember what this stranger looked like?” I tried to get to the bottom of this. “Yeah, he was about 5 '10, white, normal looking really.” “ anything out of the ordinary with his appearance.” “There was one thing.” “What was it.” “It's just, the light hit his eyes in a weird way and... for a moment I coulda sworn –” “Red or black maybe.” I answered back.”No, they were yellow. Pale yellow.” What the hell, yellow eyes? What is going on?

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Dean slams a map down and I look at it trying to figure this crazy stuff out as well. “What do you say we just slow down and talk this thing through.” Grandpa tried to calm us down. “There's nothing to talk about.” Dean answered. “Except you're saying it's a demon, and none of us has ever heard of a demon with yellow eyes.” “ We have, it killed our family without thinking twice.” I answered while staring at Grandpa's eyes.”Just calm down” “You don't get it, do you? You are in danger, we are all in danger. In fact, you need to get yourself someplace safe.” I said trying to get my family safe.”Not until we know what we're dealing with here.” could he not be a stubborn hardass for 10 minutes.”Sam's right, Y/n, it could be a demon, it could be a shapeshifter, it could be any number of things.”Deanna said trying to stand by her husband.“We know what this thing is, we lived it.” I said getting mad.”And we're gonna kill it, that's all the talking I need to do.” Dean said with this intensity. “You're gonna kill a demon? How?” Samuel questioned. “There's a hunter named Daniel Elkins. He lives in Colorado, he has Colt's gun. The Colt.” “Yeah, I heard about the Colt, used to tell it to Mary and y/n as a bedtime story.” “Well we know it’s real for sure.” I said, trying to get it in their heads. “Alright, say that it is. You got some kind of crystal ball telling you where this demon's gonna be?” Samuel said doubtful still. 

“Wait, I think we do.“ I said, grabbing our dads journal out. “What's this?” “ It's a list.” Dean said, catching on. “Of what?” “Our Dad wrote down anyone he thought ever came in contact with the Yellow Eyed Demon: who, where and when.” “why?” Samuel questioned. It is a little crazy. “‘Cause the more he could learn about the son of a bitch, the more he could figure out why it killed our Mom.” I said, still staring down at it. “Look, Whitshire Farm. I told you that name sounded familiar.” Dad really did everything to find this demon. “Uh... our Dad could see the future. Look at this, it says he's gonna hit here tomorrow night.” Dean said looking at me shrugging hoping that excuse was good. “Liddy Walsh?” Samuel questioned. “Haleyville, that's close.” Dean said. “I mean, yeah, it's about three miles, but…” Samuel said while looking at his wife exchanging looks of are these people okay which we get a lot. “ I know you think we're crazy and I don't blame you. I mean If someone told me the same thing, if I didn't know what I did I would think the same but were telling the truth.” I said hoping my small speech might have convinced them. “You seem like really nice kids, Dean,y/n but yeah, you're crazy.” “ We might be but we are going to kill the demon that destroyed our lives” I said as I walked out of the room with Dean.

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I walked to Mary’s room breathing in because this might be the last time I see my mom alive. I knock on the open door. “Hey Mary my brother and I are leaving, I just wanted to thank you before I left”  “ Thank me for what I mean I almost gave your brother a concussion.” “ exactly I think sometimes he needs one. Huh Uh actually I wanted to thank you for trying to convince your dad for us to help.” “ Yeah no problem. I think we need more help but ever since Y/n's death I don't think he can trust anyone else” Mary responded and I asked something that has been nagging me this whole time. “If you don’t mind me asking how Y/n pass and of course you don't have to answer.”  “No its okay it happened two years ago my dad and his hunting partner and y/n were on a case they were chasing a werewolf my dad’s partner thought they had caught the right one but instead the real one got my sisters scent and she was smiling one moment and the next she was lying on the ground in her own guts.” Mary said, crying. I go to hug her.

“I'm sorry that happened. I know what it feels like to lose someone to this stuff that we chase.”  “Thanks Y/n you seem like a good friend. "" Thank you, I try, and speaking of good friends. That John kid seems pretty great. What’s he like.” “I don't know. He's sweet, kind. Even after the war, after everything, he still believes in happily ever after, you know? He's everything a hunter isn't. No offense.” I chuckle at that “ No offense taken” “So you have anyone special in your life” Mary asked. It was funny. I never thought I would be talking about a special someone with my mom.

”Me no I don't think love is in the cards for me.” “ Well you're a great person, someone will see that.” “ Thanks Mary.” “ of course. Can I tell you something” Mary asked with excitement. I nod.”He's gonna ask me to marry him. Tomorrow, I think!” “ That's great Mary” “Oh, Dad's gonna explode, but I don't care. I'll run away if I have to, I just… I love John, and…” “and what” I questioned. “I wanna get out. This job, this life, I hate it. I want a family, I wanna be safe. You know the worst thing I can think of? The very worst thing? Is for my children to be raised into this like I was. No, I won't let it happen. If what happened to Y/n happened to my kids I couldn't bear it.” I want to cry and tell my mom that everything is going to be okay but I can't so instead I lie.” I'm sure that won't happen. I mean who would do that. I truly wish all your happiness Mary.” I grab her and hug her tight and let go. “Thank you Mary for everything.” I said as I almost ran out of the room passing my brother.

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I ran out of the house breathing heavily trying to control it. I hear a flap of wings and turn around to see him.” Cas? I didn't pray.” “I know I just felt you in distress.” “ So you came to help me, all you do is just stand there standing not doing anything.” I said while looking down and when I looked up he was sad. “I'm sorry that was mean you do help me more than you realize, it's just I'm trying to process this. And why can’t Sam be here? He has to be looking for us.” Sam's not looking for you.” What does that mean? “So if we stop this demon does it mean that my siblings and I get a normal life.” “You realize, if you do alter the future, your father, you, Sam, Dean – you'll never become hunters. And all those people you saved, they'll die.” “Of course I realize it but I don't care I'm still going to fight” “I really am sorry Y/n no one deserves this especially you three.” I turn around to see him gone. 

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Dean and I get into the house to get the colt and I'm at the safe to crack it while Dean stays in the car ready to drive away. “Hold it right there, friend. Drop the gun, be on your way.” It's Daniel, the current owner of the colt. I pretend to put it down but instead I point at him ready to shoot. “ I'm sorry Daniel but I need this to save my family.” “ Who the hell are you?” “ I'm a hunter just like you.” “Thief's more like it.” “ I will return it I just need it for a couple of days.” “Not happening, miss.” “Look, I have a chance to save my family’s lives. My family. But I need this gun to do it. So if you want to stop me? Kill me.” Daniel lowers his so I lower mine. “There's some hunters in Lawrence, the Campbells.” “Never heard of them.” “ That’s where the gun will be I promise. Thank you” I take the Colt and leave.

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We burst into the Walsh house to see the yellow eyed demon holding Mary against him using her as a shield. “ Mary! Let her go, you son of a bitch.” I yelled at it. “Where'd you get that gun?” He said looking at the colt I cock it and give Mary the signal to break away. As she does that the Yellow eyed demon smoked out of the poor bastard he was possessing. “Damn” Dean said, annoyed. I exit the house feeling uneasy. “Mary, what else did he say to you?” Dean asked. “I told you, just that he liked me.” Oh no is this when it happened how it knows her. “What did he mean by that?” Mary asked, a little scared. Samuel comes up to join us before we can answer. “Are you okay?” He asked Mary. “No, Dad, I'm pretty far from okay. Can we go?” She said walking away to the truck. “Nice job in there.” Samuel said to me which was weird. “I missed the shot.” I answered. “Take the compliment I'm saying that I was wrong about you guys.” He said, looking at us both. “We need to talk alone.” Dean said and he was right but what is wrong with Samuel. 

====================================================================================

“We have to kill this thing now, or Mary dies.” Dean said while we both were sitting.”What? How do you know that?” Samuel questioned. “We just do, okay?” I said pulling out Dads journal. “When?” “I don't know, maybe today, probably years from now, but it's happening, trust us.” “So what, are you guys some kind of psychics now too?” “ No, just listen to us.” He sits down too. “Now, this is gonna sound a little... actually it's gonna sound massively, massively crazy.”Dean said. What is he doing? ’’Mary is our mother.” Oh okay so we're doing this. “I am your grandson, she is your granddaughter and I know what the hell I'm talking about.” “You wanna run that by me again, son?” Samuel questioned this whole thing again. “ My real name is Dean Winchester. I was born January 24th, 1979. My parents are Mary and John Winchester.” I sigh.”My name is Y/n Winchester born November 2, 1984 to Mary and John WInchester. “I don't have to listen to this.” Samuel does not believe this. 

“Mary gets killed by a yellow eyed demon in 1984, and I think that this – what happened tonight – I think this is the moment that he caught her scent. Now, if we don't catch this thing now, and kill it, and it gets away? Then Mary dies. So I am asking you, please.” Dean is pleading with him at this point.”How did we know about the Colt? Huh? How did I know about the Yellow Eyed Demon? Or where it would be? were not making this up, Samuel.” I said, trying to get him on our side. “Every bone in my body is aching to put you six feet under, but there's something about you – I can't shake it. Now, I may be crazier than you guys but I believe you.” Yes but why was that too easy? ”I mean, how do we find this bastard?” “ with this the list” I said pointing at the page. “And with the Colt?” “Yes” “Here, let me see it.” Samuel said grabbing for it I held it back. “Sorry, we don't let anybody hold it.” “I'm your grandfather.” “ It's not you” I said, trying to be civil. “Sure it is, especially when it's me you're trying to kill.” Samurl said as his eyes went yellow and slammed Dean and I against the wall I knew there was something wrong.

====================================================================================

“Future kids, huh?” the YED walked over to Dean. I grunted trying to get up. “I only know one thing that's got the juice to swing something like that. You must have friends in high places. So, I kill your Mommy? That's why you came all this way? To see little old me?” Dean’s trying to get up too. “Oh, I came here to kill you.” Dean said, staring at his eyes. “Hey, wait a minute, if that slut Mary's your Mommy, are you... are you one of my psychic kids?” He leans in to sniff Dean. “No, not you. Maybe you.” He said walking over to me. “Get away from her you bastard!” Dean yelled. YED walks up to me and sniffs me.  "No you're not, must be another brother but you smell delicious almost as much as your mommy. Hey you planning to have kids so I can make more of my children. “ “Go back to hell” I spit in his face. “That's terrific, means it all worked out. After all, it's why I'm here.” “So that's what this is about, these deals you're making. You don't want these people's souls.” Dean yelled from across the room and the YED walked over to him. “No, I just want their children. I'm here to choose the perfect parents, like your Mommy.” “Why her? Why any of them?” “Because they're strong.” Deanna is starting to come around the corner to try to get to the colt. “They're pure, and they eat their Wheaties. My own little master race – they're ideal breeders.” “You're disgusting” I said to him. 

“ No sweetheart, I'm a dealer, there's a difference.” “Oh, get your mind out of the gutter. No one’s breeding with me. Though, Mary? Man, I'd like to make an exception. So far, she's my favorite.” “ So why make the deals?” Dean questioned trying to distract him. “I need permission. I need to be invited, into their houses, I know, I know, the – the red tape'll drive you nuts, but in ten short years, it'll all be worth it. ‘Cause you know what I'm gonna do to your sibling? I'm gonna stand over their crib and I'm gonna bleed into their mouth. Demon blood is better than Ovaltine, vitamins, minerals – it makes you big and strong.” “For what? So they can lead your discount demon army? Is that your big plan?” “Please, my end game's a hell of a lot bigger than that kid.” “End game? What end game?” “Like I'm gonna tell you, or those angels sitting on your shoulder. No, I'm gonna cover my tracks good.” “ You can cover whatever the hell you want, but I'm still gonna kill you.” “Right. Now that, I'd like to see.” “Maybe not today, but you look into my eyes, you son of a bitch, ‘cause I'm the one that kills you.” “So, you're gonna save everybody, is that right? Is that it? Well, I'll tell you one person that you're not gonna save. You're Grandpappy.” He takes out a knife and stabs himself. “NO!” Dean and I both screamed out. “NO!” Deanna screamed out too and the YED sent her flying to the floor she was crawling to the knife and he snapped her neck like a pretzel.  We’re released from the hold and I go for the colt to shoot but he's gone then I realize Mary’s not here. “Mary... Mary!” Dean and I ran out to the car. 

========================================================================

The car stops and Dean and I arrive in time to see Mary and YED kissing. “NO!” we both yell out then I see Cas and we get flown away.

========================================================================

I gasp awake and breath heavily and see Cas standing there. “Cas we couldn't stop it. She still made the deal. She still died in the nursery, didn't she?” I stare into his eyes. “ Don't blame yourself Y/n you couldn't have stopped it.” “ What do you mean?” “Destiny can't be changed, Y/n All roads lead to the same destination.” “ Screw destiny Cas, I make my own future and why did you even send us back then?’’ “For the truth. Now you know everything we do.” “ What the hell are you talking about?” Cas looks around and I realize. “Where is Sam?” “We know what Azazel did to your brother. What we don't know is why – what his endgame is. He went to great lengths to cover that up.” It's starting to make sense. “Where's Sam Cas?” “425 Waterman.” I start to get my things together and to get Dean. “You brother is headed down a dangerous road, Y/n, and we're not sure where it leads. So stop it. Or we will.” I'm about to leave when he says something “I'm glad you're okay.” “ Thank you Cas for everything.”

========================================================================

Dean and I walk into the location and see something crazy.”So... Anything you wanna tell us, Sam?” Sam looked surprised that we were here.”Guys, hold on, okay? Just let me-""You gonna say, "let me explain"? You're gonna explain this? How about this? Why don't you start with who she is, and what the hell is she doing here?” I said angry. The girl looks at me.” Hi Y/n good to see you again” I am shocked. “Ruby?” She smiles.” Is that Ruby?” Dean asked, angry too. He does not respond and so Dean throws Ruby against the wall holding the demon against her. They tussle and she pins him. “Ruby! Stop it!” She's holding him in a chokehold.

So I throw her off and flip her to the ground. “Don't you ever touch my brother again!” She shakes her head and I let go. “Ruby, he's hurt.” Sam nodded to the injured man that was possessed. She and him limp out. “Did you have to do that?” Sam asked me, annoyed. “Oh I'm sorry Sam but did you forget she's a DEMON!” I said basically yelling. He walks away leaving me to think what happened in the four months that we weren't together.

================================================

That's it hoped you liked it! Next chapter we meet Uriel let's just say him and Y/n won't be besties.

Next

[adoptedmadrigal2]

Modern au headcannons for upcoming stories

These head cannons are for my modern au that is set in the early 90's and extends through to present day. Ocs will come later for right now Isa and Dolores are only smol

Pepa owns a small business where she makes custom jewelry with crystals she tumbles herself. She also makes photo frames and nerdy home decor to sell.

Julieta runs a catering business out of the home. She has plenty of room and is excellent at time management. Her clients always leave astonishingly large tips for her because the quality of her work is so high.

Agustin is a carpenter, he works from 6am to 8 pm on weekdays and has weekends off unless there is an important deadline. He usually brings home the biggest weekly pay unless it's the holidays, then Pepa brings in big bucks for her commissions.

Felix works with his brothers at their pool and outdoor refurbishment company, depending on the day he could install a pool, mow lawns, pressure wash sidewalks, etc. He goes in at 7am after dropping the kids at school and is often home either by or before 6 the next evening. Rare occasions have him working later especially if complications arise with a pool

Isa and Dolores are extremely crafty and responsible. There's always some type of craft or project in progress between them. In their spare time they like to do all sorts of things as far as sports or creativity goes.

Luisa is often roped into the eldest two's shenanigans and she loves it because sometimes she feels left out because she's two years younger than them.

Mirabel and Camilo love to run and play while Pepa and Julieta keep watch. When they're playing their favorite game to play is pretend, Camilo has such a big imagination and Mirabel feeds off of him. They can come up with some wild stories

Dolores and mariano are high school sweethearts

Casita keeps magically growing and each kid has a subdued gift (ex Pepa only controls the weather of the room she's in or has a small cloud above her head only, Isabela can only make flowers bloom or form flowers in her hands)

Bruno is a truck driver and is seldom home, he comes home only for holidays or if he's in the area.

The house is on a half acre property and is completely fenced in.

All kids have bicycles and roller skates. The five of them like to take the evening and go around the block. The eldest can go by themselves to most places in town. Luisa is usually accompanied but can go on her own if she pleases, Mir and Milo must be accompanied if they leave the property.

There is a large backyard swing set and play house for the children to play on.

The eldest girls have flip phones. Though they hardly ever use them unless it's an emergency. They all love playing games on the family Nintendo (GameCube, then Wii after Christmas 2003)

To prevent arguments each family member has their own Gamecube and Wii remote to use.

Hope you enjoy ❤️

[confuzzled-crow77]

Brian Kelly School Headcanons

Gleaming the Cube (1989) is a crazy, skateboarding movie where the main character, Brian Kelly, does not get enough credit for being beautiful (and also solving his brother's murder and being an expert skateboarder and other unimportant stuff like that). Some of these are kind of a given just from watching the movie; if you feel like I'm mischaracterizing (word??) him, please, please, please tell me.

Given the obvious stares and looks of shock when he did his drastic (-pasty, snotty-) change, he's pretty well known in the school to be the bad boy skater.

He'd be the class clown, purposefully interrupting class (although he'd either dial it down or all the way up in his few classes with Vinh).

Some would like him because he'd burn class time debating about the teacher's choice in chalk or making a ruckus with his friends; before the teacher would know, class is over, the bell rang, and half the students are out the door before they could give homework because of Brian.

It might just be me, but I think I'd be on his not-fantastic side because I'd walk to the wrong side of the sidewalk to get out of his way. He's zipping past on his skateboard and yelling for people to move to get to school and I'd panic and take thirty seconds to decide which way to go. Just me? ...okay. Anyway, moving on-

He and Vinh both have pretty large friend groups of people who are like them; those two friend groups have plenty of people who don't like each other, since one is a skater gang of upstarts and class clowns and the other is a study group of top students. Whenever there are feuds, Brian either ignores it or makes a show of talking to and fistbumping Vinh to half-signal to his friend and Vinh's friend to chill tf out.

To the ones who give him dirty looks in the hallway, he gives a passive aggressive smile and a little wave, which usually catches the attention of his friends. Under the stare of a friend group containing 6 '3 Tony Hawk, they turn away quickly.

Fidgets with his earring, either jangling it around, or pulling it in and out. This is when he's extremely bored and got separated from his friends.

All teachers dread him. He's the one with the reputation that transcends grades. There was an instance where a teacher, very wary and strict to him, was on the good side of Vinh, and he asked Brian to stop picking little fights with the teacher. Brian reluctantly agreed and then started to volunteer to hand out papers before class and such, and the teacher became even more wary and suspicious of him.

The Shakespeare section was Hell to him. Vinh tried to help by quoting it in random situations and asking Brian what it meant; he just burst out laughing at how stupid he sounded.

All his presentations where he got to choose what he did was on skating or punk music; he finally had a 100% to show his parents.

Wasn't a glue drinking kid; he gnawed on pencils, though.

More concerned with tossing shoes out of his closet to find the pair he wants than combing his hair. More concerned with putting milk before cereal (I'm kidding! I'm kidding! Then he'd deserve to go to jail /hj Maybe, I don't know- kidding!) than remembering to grab the crumpled homework on the table.

Has probably started a mass cafeteria food fight; one orange slice hit him in the side of the face and then he started the next world war.

Actually really good at fundraisers, since he's an extroverted boi and a lot of people know him from skateboarding all around town.

Everybody has at least a sliver of an opinion on him. The school is cleanly split into two: slightly negative and slightly positive. Slightly negative comes from the people who know him as, "The Loud Kid who Almost Ran me over this Morning." The slightly positive people are the ones who either hate school and like him wasting class, or the ones who take one look at him and agree with me: he's peak gender envy (I mean, that time was around when that kind of style was getting popular [I think]).

After Vinh died and the canon movie ends, I like to think that he went back to his more skater boy style but still tried harder to get good grades. Whenever he gets a good score, before showing his parents or friends or Tina, he goes to Vinh’s grave to proudly show him.

[ashen-crest]

Listen. Before my phone runs out of battery, I have to tell you about how I visited a small surf town in New Zealand and ran into Emry Karic.

Sort of.

So, my husband and I have a few hours to wander around this little town. It’s cute- lovely waterfront, lots of cafes and surf shops. There’s even a few art galleries scattered around. Overall, a very chill hippie town.

We stop for lunch, and while The Husband is in the restroom, I wander around the street. Turns out, there’s a bit of heaven right next to our restaurant: a tiny bakery/cafe nestled beside an equally tiny used bookstore.

Both are exactly how you want them to look. The bakery has somehow managed to fit an upright piano in between a mountain of baked goods, chocolates, and sandwiches, all piled on antique furniture in front of deep teal walls. The bookstore is even more cluttered- floor to ceiling shelves, a separate nook for fantasy and sci-fi. Both places are perfect.

But, me being me, I stop in and look around the bakery first. They have at least a dozen different hot cocoa flavors on the chalkboard- another point in this bakery’s favor- but no barista at the register, nor anywhere in the space. I turn to leave.

“Hello!”

I turn around and, for a brief instant, I’m looking directly at Emry Karic.

It’s just for a split second- truly only a glimpse of an olive green vest, white shirt, brown curly hair, and the brightest, most Emry smile I’ve ever seen in my whole life- but it was enough to make my brain sputter. It’s embarrassing, but I think I stopped breathing for half a second.

Now, upon second review- as the newcomer slides behind the counter and I try desperately to be Completely Normal About This- he’s not Emry, of course. He’s paler, he’s got facial hair, his vest is decidedly fleece (an odd choice in summer). But we need to circle back around to his smile, because Jesus Christ on a pogo stick. It’s one of those smiles that punches you in the face with how wide and beaming it is, while also looking genuine and effortless. It’s how I always imagined Emry smiling. It’s wonderful.

So, upon being struck by all this, I immediately leave the cafe.

I look for my husband. He’s not outside yet. I stand awkwardly on the sidewalk. Then wander around the bookstore for a bit. I go back onto the sidewalk. Still no husband.

Fine, I think. Fine fine fine. It’s a bakery. I can just go back in and order something from Smiling Coffee Man Who Is Not Emry Karic. That’s easy, right?

I go back in.

“You’re back!” he says, still smiling. Frankly, I’d have preferred not to be recognized, but it’s a tiny cafe and I was just here a few minutes ago and I’m wearing a very large backpack and honestly what can you do.

I go to the counter and stare at the hot and iced chocolate list. I wasn’t lying when I said there were a dozen options. I mumble something about trying to decide what to get and Smiling Coffee Man (hereby shortened to SCM) politely goes off and busies himself with, I don’t know, some kind of machine while I panic.

In my panic, which lasts either six seconds or six years, who knows, I choose the Gingerbread Ice Chocolate.

SCM (still smiling, I should note) asks a question in an accent I can’t place, but I vaguely hear the words “ice cream” and I say yes.

(This is a sound practice in any context. I am old and wise, so you can trust me on this.)

Anyway, I get my ice chocolate. It’s stupidly large. There’s whipped cream on top. There’s cinnamon ice cream in it. I’m delighted and intimidated and I immediately leave again.

Now here’s the end of the story, you may think. This is where she goes on her merry way and doesn’t bother SCM or herself any further.

And this is where you’re wrong, because upon meeting with my Husband, I inform him that Emry Karic is running that cafe and also I want to get some pressed paper for my friend simply because I am a Good Friend and no other reason.

(My husband is an incredibly patient man.)

And I do genuinely want the paper. Some local artist has made lovely little cards with ink drawings and hand-pressed flowers to sell at the front counter, and I missed my friend’s birthday and I know she’d love one.

So I go back in. Again.

Please note that it’s been about a half hour, maybe more, since my last visit, but SCM immediately throws both hands in the air and says with a big grin, “you’re back!”

(I scream internally. I am still screaming internally.)

Husband and I review the cards. I find the perfect one, if I do say so myself. I check out. SCM still has a big smile on his face. I try not to look at him while I’m processing my card payment. I glance up. He’s still smiling at me. It’s overwhelming.

I finally take the card and truly, for the last time, leave this poor man alone after single-handedly funding his cafe for the day.

I wish I had a more climactic ending for you, but I’m now on the other end of the country, far away from the surfing town, and off to new adventures. My only relief comes from the fact that I will never come across an Ambrose Beake in real life because he has blue hair and pointy ears.

But I hope that on your part, you see someone, whether it be a stranger or friend or lover, whose smile punches you in the face. And I mean that in the best way possible.

[wickedsrest-rp]

Welcome to our weekly round-up! We do these every week to provide plot drops, highlight starters posted that week, and share other information about the setting. Anyone is welcome to use these bullet points in starters, plots, anons etc. Also let us know if you want us to include one of your setting-related plots in here for next week by sending us a bullet point!

What’s new in town?:

Something not quite right is in the air as the impact of the mining accident proves to be more far-reaching than anyone anticipated. Check out our ongoing plot of the week for ways to interact!

Over the past few weeks, several Wicked's Rest residents have reported being 'rescued' from muggers and robbers by a fiery figure. According to these reports, this figure is most often seen around the Gatlin Fields and Worm Row neighborhoods, and seems to focus primarily on stopping crimes that are happening out in the open. It is unknown who this resident superhero may be, but one witness claims they heard the vigilante refer to themself as 'Magnets.'

The mutated hermit crabs have been flocking around Ronnie the Claw at Rock Lobstah. It seems like they are drawn to the animatronic lobster and almost appear to be listening to it. That's probably a coincidence, but it does make it hard to spin the claw of fortune, so you may wanna plan to pay full price.

A sculpture exhibit put on by UMWR's Art students has resulted in a number of new grotesques on campus, at least resulting from the stone sculptures. Most notably, one of these grotesques looks like a rocky Spongebob Squarepants meme.

Starters:

Leticia has some questions about this Russian Farmer EDM band and whether they use a jug

As the resident expert Jasper is recommending everyone stays away from the mines and leave it to the scientists

If someone wants to get some wood-chewing rats of Luis' hands they're free to a good home

Considerate as ever, Leila is advising people stay away from the caves if they like their sense of smell

Don't let the stink get you down, Gussie has some thematic and tasty treats at Starring Role

The other crabs may be getting strange, but Sully wants you to know Shadow is just fine

Lil found some bones hanging out in the middle of the sidewalk and is wondering about the best course of action

Teagan is in town and wondering the best place to find some good sweets to go with her tea

Elias is here and working at the Mushroom Circle. You should go visit, according to him the bartender is a whole snack

Conor is trying to figure out how to block emails from the Nigerian Prince and could use a helping hand

Bring in sour candies and Bridie will give you half off entrance to the club and cover your tab if you provide Barnaby's first name

Masami is a bit over people's lack of common sense and no your dog is not an exotic pet

Sofie has got some antique items she can deliver while she's on the go this weekend so get yours today

Thea is wondering what's going on with the stink outside and is assuring it's not her

Humans are confusing and Ren isn't sure what they want if it's either too hot or too cold

Looking for a job? Dis is looking to hire a housekeep at Elysium Hotel and Casino

Cass needs to know how many scented candles are too many scented candles

Everyone's so creative and Jo is here for it and wants to purchase one of these metal band-fied crab t-shirts

Kit just discovered Spotify and has some questions about this whole remastering thing

Owen is curious about La Sauce and looking for someone to take a dip with

Monty is considering some suggestions to have a petting zoo in the warmer months and looking for thoughts

Emilio is looking for a phone that won't break and could use some suggestions

Are you good with restoration of old building? Hit Benevolence up to help with some projects

[spyderslut]

It is quite well possible for public transportation to fulfill all the needs listed here. That very much includes door to door transportation.

The use of private transport needs to be disincentivized as much as possible. It will, to some degree or another, always exist. The more that our cities are planned around private transport (cars, trucks, etc) the worse things are for literally everyone. My city has a middling quality bus service. half the city is inaccessible by sidewalk. if you want to pick up mail, you either have to drive, trespass and walk through thick brush, or just be willing to risk getting hit by a car while you ride your bike/walk. half of the city is a challenge to get to for most people, for people with a wheelchair its nigh impossible to cross half the roads, let alone pick up your mail if it gets held up at the edge of town distribution center. General buses and trams can be made to be quite accommodating indeed. For more specific needs, there can be buses specifically made for disabled people. You could also do that with a cab service of some sort, perhaps as part of your local cities healthcare program. In any case, public transportation is good. The vast majority of peoples transportation needs, including this case, can be fulfilled by public transportation. It just needs to be actually properly funded!

it's very clear from some communists' visions of future city-planning that they expect disabled people to just shut up and die, lmao

[traipseartist]

July 22nd - 28th - Toronto / ([ˈtɹɒnoʊ]) /Terannō & "The Food City"

When I was a small child, my parents took my sister and I to Niagara Falls. It might be my earliest memory, as my mom claims that I was either just barely or not yet three. I can remember, faintly, the family in ponchos my dad kept in the Astro van's back seat glove (?) compartment from Disney World (which, I think, insinuates that either my Aunt Laura bought us Disney-themed ponchos for a trip to the Great White North, or my family had already spent money to take me to Disney world even though my little play-doh ball of a brain wasn’t in the business of forming lasting memories, yet). I recall my father lifting me up, Simba-on-Pride-Rock Style, and the water from the falls reaching what felt like miles away across the roaring gap and the plexiglass railing to splash me.

I remember in my youth thinking of this memory with a bitter sense of betrayal. Human shield! To keep him dry! But as an adult I find the image in its own way a little funny. I’m sure my jelly-sticky hands were pressed to that plexiglass, watching the water drip down. My sister, tall for seven and a half, probably had her chin on the smooth aluminum of the barrier. I can’t help but think I surely laughed before I cried, as three-year-olds can do in a turn. Joy veering into terror and back into joy again.

Perhaps that’s why I was a little disappointed that Toronto was less… emotional? I suppose I wasn’t looking to be moved by a city truly only just over the border from my home country… but Mexico felt like something distinct despite the southeastern United States also being Mexico for so long. I kept looking for the slight identity of Canada that deviated from the US, something beyond All Dressed Lays chips and the sticker shock of the Canadian Dollar. I wasn’t going to see it with my eyes.

I was going to feel it in their kitchen.

I feel like trying to describe what Toronto the City felt like is going to be like trying to describe a lesser-known band’s sound with other lesser-known band names as descriptors: unhelpful and--even if you did know what I was talking about (because you’re also so cool)--likely pretty reductive. I was there for a week. And working remotely during the day—so I didn’t even get the dopamine hit of trouncing around a novel landscape, free from the binds of my daily grind.

But! I feel confident in describing the food culture of the ~3-mile radius in which we stayed, as I made sure my mother and my sister came with me to hell-and-gone to eat and drink our way around town.

I was told Toronto was a Food City™ which, yeah—ok—what major cultural hub isn’t? NYC is a “Food City.” San Francisco is a “Food City.” New Orleans wouldn’t forgive you if you left it off of the list. Los Angeles would like to have a word. I think I’ve always taken this descriptor to be “you have a lot to choose from.” Living in Pittsburgh (and hearing some people attempt to also describe it as a Food City, which, like, bless you, but you’re wrong) I’ve come to understand the value of this. I really can’t get high-brow Mexican food at the drop of a hat anymore. The sushi of Pittsburgh, PA quivers in the enormous, crushing shadow of the Thai that dots the pizza-slice. I won’t contest that Pittsburgh has good food. Certainly, don’t sleep on Apteka, The Vandal, Morcilla, Pierogi Palace—but you’re not rolling in off of the sidewalk to be wowed by every establishment you hole up in. And frankly, Stinky’s pub doesn’t really need to serve anything more than dumpster nachos to be worth the visit.

But this is not in defense of Pitty! Come to town, I’ll show you around. I know more than enough to make it worth your time. This is intended to do a little bit of smithing on the digram: Food City.

New York has its fair share of junk places. I ran into plenty of grimy, middling donut joints in Los Angeles (whilst searching for the good ones). San Francisco is notoriously hit-or-miss. And Toronto of course has its own spots hamming it up for the occasional tourist. But Toronto’s food scene felt like it had deep heart in ways that the most stunning of establishments in many cities I had visited before in the US had not managed, despite Toronto being, for all intents and purposes, incredibly American (minus the metric system, which… well, I’m coming around but I don’t want to talk about it). The city had captured something from its European predecessors that Americans dropped on the ground when we started outsizing the value of things beyond the dinner table: a way that the feeling of being/eating/drinking in a restaurant was more than the sum of its parts.

I have a thrill in a new city of following an industry-rabbit down a hole: Where does the bartender at this quirky dive get breakfast? Where does the woman putting salsa on my burrito eat lunch when she’s sick of eating burritos? Does the barista putting chocolate milk in my cappuccino have opinions on the neighborhood I’m three blocks over from? In some places, this can be a dead end (especially in places with a troubling wage or class disparity… because it means the people who are serving you don’t eat where they work, sometimes), and you must be a judge of more than just taste when talking to people giving you recommendations—an entirely separate skill I certainly haven’t mastered. But! People who work in the food I like, if they can swing it, are as hooked as I am on the intoxication of a good haunt.

And Toronto is full of them. While many of them came as advertisements from the industry humans that float among them, some of them were so easy to pick out from the street I kept holding my breath waiting to be disappointed by the subtle cues that usually indicate a place is worth eating in: People dwelling at empty tables over an already paid bill. Maybe someone actually thought about the art that’s on the walls. If they gave up on the décor, they’d didn’t chintz on the wine glasses. They have a gin on the shelf I couldn’t find in an airport lounge. Somehow everyone who works there looks like they’ve always worked there.

Even the greasy spoons were not hard to spot, because it felt like the people of Toronto cared about them, too. Every place we ate or drank, we shouldered our way up to bars or were tucked into corners from the traffic of locals and tourists alike. Refreshingly, we had servers unabashedly tell us what to dodge on some menus, what everyone ordered but they didn’t think was very good, what they had a hand in creating, what they kept trying to kick off the menu, but the regulars kept dragging it back in like a dead cat.

Canadians are in some ways, fiercely practical, and unlike some cities in America that feel eager to have immigrants assimilate and adjust their dishes for a more homogenous palate, the places that stuck out were run by very recent immigrants, or immigrants that never saw the value in doing anything but highlighting or reinventing their unique dishes with ingredients they could never get their hands on (or get away with combing) in their countries of origin.

I had crème brulee with caviar dotting the surface and fatty duck salted, cured, and sliced like salami. We tasted ravioli made with tomato puree and spinach puree, separated only by the pasta’s seal and raw cacao nibs were sprinkled over the foam of my mocha to bring a bitter crunch to the usually-too-sweet drink. I had hot. Apple. Pie. With. Gruyere. Grated. Over. The. Top. IN FRONT OF MEEE!

Some of the innovations made me feel stupid. Of course Lillet Blanc made an incredible spritzer with black berries. Yeah, actually, spicy cajun brisket and pickled carrots do go in bahn mi. Why hadn’t I wrapped a whole-ass shrimp in egg-roll skin and deep fried it in one go? Or made “ribs” with corn, elote style?

Maybe we had gotten lucky, perhaps we had chosen well, and not every dish was amazing in every establishment, but every place we managed to stumble into felt like it was working to make more than it had been given. Though Toronto is not the land for street fashion or incredible scenic views, it more than makes up for it with the way they’ll make your plate. I will be delighted when I get to reprise the role of Pac-Man in that city on the lake, some day, soon.

Find all the places we ate here and play along at home.

[lunarcovehq]

The blossoms on the trees, stir up the honey bees, Spring makes my fever right, Spring Fever!

THE BLOSSOM FESTIVAL - SPRING EVENT

Spring is in the air! The flowers are blooming and with spring fever running high, the Council has decided that it is time for Lunar Cove to start a new tradition. As devastating as the Valentine’s Day attacks were, the Lunar Covians proved themselves to be a force to be reckoned with. There is strength in numbers here and the people of this town are worth celebrating. Lunar Cove, may no longer be the Safe Haven it once was, but it is still a united front and, with so many supernaturals and new residents flooding to Lunar Cove for safety, what better way to kick off the start of Spring than to ensure that they have a warm welcome? The Blossom Festival is a time for Supernaturals from every neighborhood in the Cove to come together. From a Basket Auction taking place under the Town Gazebo to a Dance-A-Thon later in the week at Puck's Luck, there will be a number of different activities occurring all across town with all of the proceeds going towards helping our new neighbors settle in. So get those baskets ready and those daylight rings on to enjoy a fun and festive week out in the sun.

REMINDERS

 This is a character-driven event that will start on April 14th out of character while taking place over the week of April 15th - 21st in character.

Please keep your eyes out for multiple plot drops that will be happening throughout the week which your characters can continually react to.

The tag for the event is lunarcoveevent6. Everything from pictures, outfits & threads etc. should be under this tag. Starters should have both the starter and event tag.

This event is mandatory and, as always, big plots should be discussed with the admins before playing them out on the dash, so if you have any big plots you want to do, please let us know.

For anyone looking to bring in new characters, we will continue to have regular acceptances throughout the event!

As for the Activities Below, the below is written out in order of which activities are happening on which day of the week, but feel free to react to or post starters for any of the below in whichever order you would like. We just ask if you can hold off making any posts at the Basket Auction or Dance-A-Thon itself until after the future plot drops are drops.

Last, but not least, we hope you have fun!

ACTIVITIES

THROUGHOUT THE WEEK

The Rec Center- is looking for volunteers! Throughout the week, the Rec Center will be setting up cots for displaced supernaturals who quickly found their way to Lunar Cove after being hunted. If you haven't done your spring cleaning yet, now is also the perfect time to do so since they will be collecting donations from canned goods to clothes. The Magnolia Inn is also offering rooms at a very discounted price for displaced families, please speak to Reese if you need any special accommodations. Sidewalk Sale- Don't have items to donate to the Rec Center? That's okay! You can always pick one up while you're out shopping. Throughout the week, all of the participating stores and boutiques around town will be having their biggest sale yet. Everything from Blush Boutique and Wore-drobe to the Cathedral is 75% off so now is the time to shop until you drop. Broken Records will also be DJing the Sidewalk Sale with their own records on sale. If you're a shopaholic, you won't want to miss these deals. (Disclaimer: Lunar Cove is not responsible for any brawls that may commence over the last pink cashmere sweater. Shop at your own risk and, for those of you in attendance antsy for a fight, please know although the stores are all over half off, bail is not.)  Restaurant Week- Not only are the shops half off, but the restaurants around town are offering their own deals too. Each restaurant from Rainbow Roll to the Farmshop has created its own fixed menus that are either inspired by classic Japanese dishes or in celebration of Spring, incorporating the use of blossom flavors in their creations. Have a five-course meal for the price of one! (Disclaimer: All restaurants with the exception of Ambrosia are participating in the discount. Ambrosia has opted to still create their own fixed menu, but they stand by the fact that the clientele who eat there can afford to eat at full price...) 

SATURDAY

Follow My Lead- The Festival will kick off on the steps of Town Hall with a celebratory performance by dancers from Follow My Lead and, if you're light on your own feet, you are more than welcome to join in after the opening performance as dance instructors such as Kim Binna will be hosting a free dance class for anyone who would like to partake. Farmer's Market- Join Lunar Cove for its first official Farmer's Market on the Town Green. In honor of the Festival, the booths will be selling Sakura Matsuri street food. Swing by the Happy Scoops booth to try some Shaved Ice, Sucré's booth for mochi donuts or the Daily Drip's booth for an array of teas and Taiyaki among others. There will also be artist stands where local artists will be selling their creations for the cause such as handmade Japanese paper jewelry and Hero Comics will be selling work from that of Japanese creators. Hanami (花見)- It wouldn't be a Blossom Festival without the 'flower viewing'. Residents will be invited to walk from the Town Green through the many Cherry Blossoms that are in bloom starting at the center of town and reaching the farthest corner of Echo Acres. Picnic blankets will be provided to all residents who'd like to wander along the trees being encouraged to lounge and picnic where they see fit to enjoy the view. The Wishing Tree- In Echo Acres, there is also a specific blossom tree known as the Wishing Tree. Here, residents can write down a wish for someone else or a positive thought which will be placed inside an origami paper petal "pocket". The "petal" will be draped over the branches of the cherry blossom tree and, at the end of the festival, the petals will be passed out to residents as a symbol of friendship. Though as town legends go, whatever wish you receive will have a tendency to come true, so let's hope that luck is on your side. (OOC: we will be posting an anonymous survey in the OC chat where players can submit wishes in character. For example: Leyla submits "You're so lucky and everything will work out for you". Then we will use an auto generator to assign the wish to another character at random i.e. "Bea- you have been gift this petal as a token of friendship" and IC your character can react to said warm wishes. That being said, please have fun with them. If you're playing a character whose warm wishes would take the form of more of a backhanded compliment feel free to do so, since as fun as it is if your character receives a positive wish, it will also be fun plotwise if your character ends up with a perplexing or questionable 'warm wishes'.)

SUNDAY

Basket Auction- Get ready to bid on your fellow resident's baskets! Make sure to swing by the Town Gazebo at noon for your chance to win a fun-filled "date" to get to know a fellow resident a little better and to give back to a great cause. Hosted by our resident event planner, Dilan Selvi, with her quickwitted commentary, the day is sure to be filled with fun and the potential for chaos (at least when it comes to the bidding wars). This Basket Auction will take place over Discord on Sunday April 16th OOC, so please look out for the UPCOMING PLOT DROP and refrain from posting any basket bidding or date starters until then (although starters about your characters wondering what to put in their baskets are fine to make). Basket Dates- After the auction comes to an end, all bidders and basket owners will be encouraged to go find each other to claim their prizes before venturing off on their basket-themed afternoons in pairs.

MONDAY

Out of Stalk- Start your week off right with a visit to the Community Garden. Plant your own seeds that will one day blossom or take a turn harvesting your own fruits and veggies.  Bliss Yoga- At Sunrise and Sunset, Bliss Yoga will be hosting free yoga classes under the cherry blossom trees in the garden. Bike & Skateboard Rentals- If you'd rather swing by the gardens during the day, stop by the Along for the Ride stand at the front entrance of Out of Stalk to take a scenic bike ride around the Cove and back or rent a Skateboard from Stella's Skate Shop. The Skate Shop booth has been set up across the street from Along for the Ride and, word on the street is, the rival businesses have a bet going to see who can have the most business by the end of the day. Blank Slate- Visit one of the many artist booths around the gardens to have a caricature of yourself created. Art in Motion- Ever dreamed of stepping into a painting? Similar to the Van Gogh Exhibit, Art in Motion is transforming its gallery for the festival. With the help of the Fae Court, the moment you step through Art in Motion’s doors, you will be surrounded by a visual and Instagram-worthy illusion where Japanese creator's Cherry Blossom-inspired artwork is surrounding you. 

TUESDAY

Spring Shellebration - The Yellow Submarine will be hosting a shell hunt in the honor of Spring. All around the aquarium will be different hidden shells that you can hunt to find. Sponsored by Wright Enterprise, each shell will have a dollar value tapped to the back. The more shells you find, the more money Wright Enterprise will donate towards the preservation of the Cove’s Marine Life. The individual who collects the most shells will win a Swimming with the Dolphins in Tank experience with some of the Aquarium Volunteers and Marine Biologists. Salty Surf- is hosting a beach cleanup and is looking for volunteers. Those who participate will be entered into a raffle to win a custom Surf Board of your own design. The Stingray Boathouse- The Boathouse will be renting out Paddle Boats and Canoes all day long for those of you who want to embark onto the water and that’s not all! Come the evening, the Town is urging all residents to head down to the Boathouse to board boats of their own where floating lanterns will be set off over the water. 

WEDNESDAY

Kiln It- Want to take a spin at pottery? Kiln It is a new store opening up downtown where residents can make their own pottery or paint their own pre-made ceramics. They will be offering an exclusive ceramics line for the festival with blossom patterns imprinted on the pottery to paint. Carhop- Roller Rocket & Peggy's Diner are teaming up to bring residents a pop-up Carhop located in the parking lot of Peggy's. For those fixing for a bite, waiters at Peggy's will try their hand at rollerskating and blading, with skates being provided by Roller Rocket for the day, as they drive up to your car windows to place your orders and deliver your food directly to you. For those wanting to try their own hand a skating, Roller Rocket has set up a skating rink on the far right of the parking lot where residents can skate about. Fingers crossed no one crashes. Sunset Drive-In- While you're already in your car, might as well take a drive down to Sunset's where you can watch a number of different films from Japanese directors and producers. Sing-Off- End your night at On Pitch. The karaoke bar will be hosting their very own sing-off. The best singer of the night will be bestowed the title of Blossom Babe by the owner Anna Donnelly. The Blossom Babe will receive their very own flower crown and will have their drinks free for the rest of the night.

THURSDAY

Just In Bloom- Not only will all of the proceeds of flower sales during the week go towards helping our new residents, but Just in Bloom will also be hosting their very own Flower Crown-making brunch in tandem with Rose Tinted. Sip a mimosa while learning how to braid your own crown or make the perfect flower arrangements to gift to a friend or keep on display on your dining room table. The Ghost Bros Extravagant Tour of All Things Haunting & Otherwordly- Come along on Lunar Cove's very own Ghost Tour. The Seen It Route is a brand new start up business that Jasmine St. Claire recently opened. It offers all kinds of Tours from Ghost sightings to historical walks, but for opening day they have partnered up with a very popular YouTube Channel known as the Ghost Bros where your hosts Mateo Rivera & Caleb Wright will take you to different haunted sites around town for a chance to spot and potentially even make contact with your very own ghost. (Disclaimer: The Ghost Bros Extravangaza is a publicity stunt and is not a reflection of The Seen It Route's standard Ghost walks. Guides are typically spirit raisers and resurrecteds who can see the ghosts firsthand, but for the sake of entertainment and a good time, The Seen It Route is tentatively entrusting their services in the hands of two werewolves who have no expertise when it comes to Ghost hunting and it is rather questionable as to whether or not they know what they are doing). Bar Crawl - What better way to celebrate Thirsty Thursday than to partake in a very different kind of tour, that being a tour around Lunar Cove's bars and drinking establishments? Starting off at the Starlight Bar and ending at Shipfaced Boat Bar, tour-goers will be able to taste a number of different cocktails, mocktails, wines & beers. Though please note, Eclipse will not be participating as it is closed for the time being so that the owner Aaliyah Rose & Chai Rune can celebrate their birthdays off the clock. That being said, one blonde bartender and supreme may have posed a challenge for all tour-goers- for those who can wish a happy birthday to either Aaliyah or Chai in the most dramatic, over-the-top way gets another free round.

FRI-YAY

The Dance-A-Thon- Puck's Luck is bringing back their Dance-A-Thon, so get out those dancing shoes and get ready to dance until you drop. The Dance-A-Thon will be the second Discord party for this event taking place on Friday, April 21st OOC, so please look out for UPCOMING PLOT DROPS for more information as to what the Dance-A-Thon will entail. Please refrain from posting any threads or starters at the Dance-A-Thon until then. Also, please hold off on choosing a Dance-A-Thon partner/plotting out the Dance-A-Thon just yet until the plot drop is posted. Thank you!

[meanwhileinstasiville]

All of white supremacy supports itself through peddling drugs

Today’s theme, on the way here. Also, a reminder that if I hadn’t met my old boss, I would’ve turned into him. 

Cartels can use the KKK system to great effect, in part, because they don’t need hoods when most Americans are bigoted and/or race blind. Any place they’re not getting their way as a community, they “become” any number of gangs/cartels/royals/brotherhoods until the problem clears up. This community is no different.

So, my old boss’s son was very intent on driving his dad into politics thinking he’d have a better sense of consensus than most. And of course, he couldn’t do that, because he’s a drug kingpin and people could be maimed/murdered/raped/robbed on the basis of disagreement with him. I say I would’ve turned into him, because he has all the tokens of whiteness he can find for someone ethnically Mexican by his own admission.

He’s “whitez” the whitelaw, in ash white town, all of his “friends” (because he always claimed that he didn’t have any when asked) are half his age at best, and “the whitest kids he knows”. He has white interests in precious metals and wears glasses. He watches James Bond movies in the theater with family and friends (one of the whiter things white people do). He frequents high class Italian food that he *could* pass for, if you were to ignore the “kneeling” the business owners had to do, in order to build the restaurant in the first place. He quotes “Clerks”, he quotes Office Space. Sometimes Slingblade. His peers, call them “the boys” from Chicago, would have him identified with Danny DeVito; as a wink and nudge toward perhaps what could be a meaningful use of his time, in order that he gets where he really seems to want to be. At a time in the distant past, before *his* old man died, he could be found off-hours sitting in a chair and chain smoking while washing down the days events with gallons of Gallo (Spanish for rooster) wine. I have a feeling that was to replace the din of family chatter absent in the white world, yet ever present in any Mexican home with three or four generations under one roof. I say these things out of posterity because of the degree and immediacy of surveillance I’ve been under since starting work at his business circa 2002. We’re getting to the parallel. Tokens.

I’m not civilized. 

I read War and Peace, Marquez, Coelho, Neruda, Kahlo, a slew of the “classic” Western authors and novelists. I “appreciate” Mesoamerican myth, Asian history pertaining to Japanese feudalism, sciences that are more of a practice than an established set of constants (the fuzzy stuff like sociology and psychology) which has a certain irony since I’m missing both guilt and shame in my emotional toolkit. Malkovich’s “Blackbeard” knew astrolabes backward and forward; impressive for a cannibal pirate, several languages, and would be considered “wicked cultured” for a barbarian (one of my scarier relatives considers me an “Uncle Tom” to this day).

My tumblr says I’m “down with the youth” and “up on arts and culture”; but I’m not civilized, I’m a clone of my aristocrats joke of a grandfather. And *he* wasn’t civilized either. Using the kind of language he would comes easily to describe some of the activities about town.

A woman running on commands phrased as requests, waits on the sidewalk for me to reach her stating that “she seems old for a gang member” because most of her teeth seem to be missing, to encounter her later after she speed walked her dog to catch up with me. I tell that “I don’t need any more stalkers”, to which she replies that “she has headphones in and can’t hear demons” sort of yelling it down the street. She could hear when I said “I carry a gun” meaning that danger went right through noise cancellation, but not concern about being an aged gang member with white hair; I think she’s confused about who she might be listening to. (I say that about guns because I assume there’s some kind of a lead-up to mass shootings, where people would be clued in to the state of others, but don’t seem to be listening at all and that seems borne out in testing so far. Smug smiles and contemptuous sighs are all a guy gets in response, which is strange for America being “gripped with terror” over mass shootings)

Back to the civilization. I have kinky sexual interests. I like statuesque women with Greek proportions. I ask a lot of complicated questions about fetishes that have no easy answers; chastity can’t make sense, but the promotion of it keeps spreading. There was a sidebar in a story about transgenders in a relationship more than twenty years, on one of the internet repositories. That’s about *all there is* for origin story. For someone as uncivilized as I am, Tumblr isn’t helping very much.

I hear that it’s (the collection of associated fetishes also) drugs. It’s about heroin (when Amazon ships the fetish equipment to a name and address). It’s about the Chinese overpopulation problem with scarce women (where monasticism is a 4000 year old narcissistic ideal) . It’s latent homosexuality (which seemed surprising to Dan Savage and his husband when *they* tried to figure it out). It occurs in Korea where most people will never go (A “best cup of coffee *you’ll* never have” to quote Mike Rowe) without specifying whether that’s Kim’s war crime Korea, or Moon’s America lite. It occurs when whites and blacks share a cell (so cameras can watch people rape instead of murder, I guess). It’s an alternative to chemical castration for pedophiles with *great* publicity on the internet (and some kind of oblivious but thriving hobbyist community). I ask *real* women from *real long-term relationships* and they say it makes men obsessed with their own genitals in ways that they never were before. The answer to any question turns out to be another dark road in the middle of the night.

My chain smoking chair was listening to music for 6-7 hours per day. 

https://everything2.com/title/Some+of+our+best+friends+are+three+minutes+long (I used to *live* on Everything2 back in highschool)

[weaselle]

i work alone outside, so, it's basically just if i go into a restaurant or store. About half the stores are requiring masks still, but often in a post a sign but don't enforce it kind of way

there's a very high test and vaccine rate/availability in my county in N. California, and people are pretty good at self isolating when sick, which is helping keep rates low, but a lot of people aren't wearing masks much.

People in the town i work are pretty well off and seem to think they are mostly too good to be inconvenienced by masks, and in the town i live there's a strong pickup truck freedom-first contingent that tends toward maskless public appearances -- in both towns you'll likely see more masks in grocery stores than other places, which i have theories about, but idk.

Masks protect the people around, not the wearer, so if i'm in a store full of people not wearing masks, there's not much point in me wearing one, everyone in there is already rolling the dice

So what i do is, when i go in somewhere, if the employees are wearing masks, i wear a mask. That either means the employees want masks, or they have to wear masks, and either way i'm with them.

Similarly, i'll wear a mask if a significant number of other people have masks, or if there are, like, a lot of older people around. And of course anyplace that has, y'know, if you're in a pharmacy or clinic or nursing home or anything that could be considered a medical setting there's more enforcement and people tend to assume they need to mask and i will always wear one in those environments.

And then additionally i stay six to ten feet from people as much as i can, everybody is still doing close to a six foot distance thing a lot, especially for register lines.

Like, i go to a bakery and it's got a very small indoor space in front of the counter, and before the pandemic i'm sure you would easily have seen like six to eight people in there waiting to order and pay, but now it's pretty common for people to line up on the sidewalk outside if there's already two people in there, and there's no rule for that there, people are just doing it.

But as far as wearing a mask goes, i do it if the employees are doing it or if a bunch of the public around me is doing it; like, idk about a third, if 30% of the people are wearing a mask, i'm wearing a mask.

Oh! and the very rare occasion i do something like go to a bar or a party or something where i'm spending significant time in a more crowded environment, then i'll mask anytime i'm inside with people for the next week or so, because i consider myself to personally be higher risk for other people during that time, when i've had more possible exposure and might be carrying the rona (or even just influenza etc) without symptoms.

But most of the time I only see five people face to face, and 2 of them are eighty years old (one with cancer) and 2 of them work from home and are careful about their own exposure (because it's my sister and her husband and they care about the fact that my mom has cancer) and the last one is my boss who also works alone outside (so i only actually talk face to face with her about ten minutes a day) and that's everybody i actually spend any time with in a given month, so the bubble is pretty small and tight, and I'm usually very low risk as a vector.

If i leave the bubble or become more social, i'll probably mask a lot more

you can say what area you live in as well/if masks are still required where you are if youd like too! and no judgement on the results/dont be afraid to pick a certain answer, im genuinely just curious to see how much ppl are still masking at least here on tumblr?

[carrdfan]

Eddie Brock/Venom x Reader

summary : Eddie grows worried due to your absence and is soon convinced by Venom to go out and check on you. Yet when he finds you and countless others bruised and hurt, there's only one suspect; and Eddie suddenly has an urge to end them.

main tags : imagine , comfort , female reader

warnings : blood mention

Eddie walked around the messy living room as the kitchen clock ticked by each passing second. Every minute that passed, he grew more and more worried about your well-being. You were only heading to the pharmacy, so why had you been gone for so long?

"Eddie." Venom suddenly called, interrupting the silence. "We should check on her."

Part of Eddie immediately agreed and wanted to leave right away, yet another part of him said that it was just his paranoia causing him to stress this much.

"I'm probably just overthinkin'," He told Venom as he continued to wander around the living room, starting to pop his knuckles as some sort of relief. "She can definitely handle herself anyways-"

"No.. I sense something unsettling from afar, she's in danger Eddie." Eddie wanted to tell Venom that he was just getting paranoid too, but from the tone of voice, he was calling it.

Eddie really didn't want to acknowledge the possibility of you being hurt, and dare God bring up the idea of death occurring to you. "Fine! Fine, let's go," Eddie said as he quickly grabbed his keys before heading out the door. He hoped both him and Venom was just exaggerating in the end.

He ran out of the apartment and into the car. The drive to the pharmacy wasn’t too far, yet within a few minutes, Eddie could sense something wasn't right either. The smell of smoke slowly filled the air, causing Eddie to panic. "Shit!" He quickly said under his breath.

Eddie soon drove up to see police cars and fire trucks circled around a part of the street. They were destroyed, buildings damaged and on fire; one being the pharmacy you ran to. Eddie felt a pit in his stomach at the sight of the event while he quickly parked and got out of the car. He greatly stressed over his biggest priority: you.

Eddie tried to take a closer look, but was stopped by officers who refused access towards everyone. There was a moment of him and the officer going back and forth as Eddie hardly kept a hold of himself, fortunately, there was a cry in the distance to distract him. "Hey!" Both turned to see you afar and slowly walking towards them. Once you caught up to both men, you quickly told the officer that Eddie was here for you before pulling Eddie aside to catch him up on what went down.

You both stood on the sidewalk as there was a moment of silence. Just being by each other was enough to calm both of you down, because while Eddie was calming himself from fear, you were still processing some bits of what just went down. You tried to say something to break the silence, but Eddie carefully placed his hands on your face. While his intention was to get a closer look to what happened to you, but he also managed to help you catch a few more breathers and collect more of yourself. 

Once he finally got a look up close though, he was hugely pissed. You were covered in small scars along with a few bandages wrapped around your arms and legs. You seemed to have taken a bit of the hit but luckily didn't get the worse of it compared to the few other victims Eddie saw. "Oh my God, Y/n. What- what happened?"

You tried to recall everything that went down even though it was a lot to take. "So.. Uh, someone decided to go rapid and attack the street," you turned around to point out the order of the events, "Some pieces from buildings were thrown and one of them almost flew on top of the pharmacy. Some believe it was some kind of explosion that cause it, while others think it was something else."

You continued to explain the rest of your story and even some of the other victims, how some witnessed pieces almost be thrown directly at them, while others had the unfortunate sight of seeing bodies be split in half or have their heads crushed in. But it was clear no one was able to get a sight of the one behind this, those who did must have been the ones killed. Eddie felt a lot of emotions come over him but the two who majorly left was anger and guilt.

Anger from the fact someone dared to cause havoc in the town. Someone dared to put your life in extreme danger. While you managed to play it off, the fact someone went far enough to cause you to have blood running down your face enraged him.

Yet he felt guilty, guilty that the harm to came your way was his fault. He should've been there for you when times called, yet he wasn't. And that's what weighed him down.

Eddie soon took a grip to both of your arms, "Y/n. Are you sure no one knows who’s behind this. No one got even a glimpse?" It was a rare sight to see Eddie so visually frustrated so you were caught by surprise. But there was no need for you to answer as Eddie took it back shortly, the pieces were already clicking together for him by the passing second. The choices already dialed down to one person, and that person made Eddie furious.

It’s uncommon for them to make a move just to retreat; they didn’t just attacked the street on pure decision. They might have known you were making an errand and proceeded to attack on that info.

This whole incident could’ve been nothing more but a major way to fuck with Eddie. And fueled him with enough rage to punch a hole in the wall, only to hold himself back was you as he wanted to show some decency.

Trying his best to keep his anger in, he let go of his grip on you and took a moment. "..Come on. Let's get you home first. I have something to handle myself and I’d prefer you be home while I’m gone." Fully agreeing, you inform the authorities of your sudden leave before you and Eddie got in his car and drove home.

In the small ride back, you couldn’t help but notice the irritation Eddie was keeping a hold of. His grip seemed a bit too tight on the steering wheel, and his breathing seem a bit too unkept. But you didn’t push yourself to ask him anything about it. 

Once you both made it home, you walked into the apartment before turning back and looking at Eddie. “Are you sure you wanna leave after what happened? It may not be safe for tonight.” Logically speaking, Eddie should be staying close with you as you would do with him if he was in your spot, but to see Eddie go run this errand made you question a few things.

Eddie couldn’t help but smile as he slowly walked up to you, "I’ll be fine, it’s better if I run and handle it now then wait till later." He soon gave you a small kiss on your forehead before stepping back and heading off, "I'll be back, and don’t leave the house for the rest of the night." Before you could respond and interrogate Eddie some more, he was already getting in the car and backing up. You decided to listen and head to your given room, yet wondering why Eddie sounded so confident in what he was doing. Maybe later on you can ask him about this incident again.

Either way, you cared for yourself and attend to your scars, time slowly went on and on until, ironically, you found yourself in Eddie’s spot for a moment or two. But with the affects of the attack, you couldn’t help but given into your sleepiness and decided dosed off to bed.

While you got some sleep, Eddie was out catching some Carnage to end this memorable night.

[hansensgirl]

put me in a movie.

summary. | He knows you can’t make it on your own, so he’ll put you in his movie.

warnings. | Dubcon (reader doesn’t know what he’s doing but consents to it), smut, drinking, age gap (reader is legal), virginity loss, choking, spanking, dirty talk, degradation, corruption kink, innocence kink, cream pie kink, penetration, teasing, praise, filming, voyeurism, porn (the industry), fluff, yearning, Daddy kink, humiliation, overstimulation, dumbification kink, and more. SMUT, 18+ MINORS DNI.

word count. | 6.5k.

pairing. | Grey!Pornstar!Helmut Zemo x Innocent!Reader.

a/n. | please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (and i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. inspired by wet, written by the talented @thewritingdoll! do not translate or repost my fics at all.

You don’t like the heat, but you love the summer. The way the days are seldom cold and cloudy, with that occasional breeze that your skin gracefully soaks up in the same way your beach towel soaks up the water on your bathing suit. Popsicles of different flavours dripping down your skin and onto the hot sidewalk. The sticky residue makes you cringe, and you’d use the damp side of your towel to wipe it away. It would work for a few seconds, maybe even a minute or two, before the feeling returns.

You hate the heat, but you love to see him. Those swim trunks of his sticking to his wet skin. They’re a blue colour that seems easy to describe at first glance, but you’ll soon realize just how many shades of navy blue there are, and suddenly you don't even know what colour they are. Maybe it’s the colour of the jeans the cameramen wear, or perhaps it’s the colour of the night sky at around six in the evening during the summertime.

They lug heavy equipment, and you just wonder if they’re filming a movie. If your friends and family members got word, they’d probably lose their minds before begging you to get them a part. Vying for fame runs through the family tree branches, and even you would want a small part in it as well. You give them empty promises, forgetting their words after a few minutes until the following text message or phone call.

You don’t spend much time at the beach anymore. Heck, you haven’t been there since June. Your friends have left with their boyfriends and girlfriends on a trip to Bali, and all you have are your family members to keep you company. Your white fence, magazine and lawn chair are all you know of now. You spend your days outdoors, knowing each one will be filled with the same things. The sunlight, bees buzzing, and seagulls having unwarranted ferociousness.

Your parents spend their days at work, and you stay home to hold your small fort down. You don’t water the grass or touch the garden because your father does it better than anyone. You don’t touch the paint meant for the walls or the furniture boxes that are strewn across the floors because your mother knows where to put them and how to paint. You just relax, and you don’t mind it at all.

That was until you saw him.

Curiosity is your closest friend other than the blue raspberry flavoured popsicles that take up more space in your freezer than anything else. So when the empty house next door suddenly filled up with around half a dozen people, you just couldn’t help but wonder what they were doing. So you peer over the fence, standing on the small two-step ladder that your dad stole from his previous job. Women and a few men are laughing, dressed down in both swimsuits and t-shirts. Their bodies are lovely, the pinnacle of beauty that you sometimes envy. Other times, you’d feel as though you’re the prettiest girl in the world, and that’s not far from the truth. They’ve got different brands of alcohol in their hands, White Claw cans littered on the ground, and you cringe at the mess.

They must be mentally younger than you’ll ever be again because no person older than you can act like this. Heavy, black cameras are resting nearby briefcases, and you hope to god that nothing illegal is going on. The last thing you need is the police questioning you at 1 in the morning. Some of the men ogle at the younger ladies, and they bask in the attention. You watch as their eyes rake up and down their shiny, sweaty bodies.

“Oh, please, the least you all can do is wait for me before you start the party,” a man snickers, stepping out of the house. You look over to him, and your breath is taken away. Water drips down his face, cascading down to his neck and onto his slightly hairy chest—a navy bluish-purple robe and those blue swim shorts that peek through underneath the cloth. The colour of the fabric goes oh so well with the blue of his eyes. They all laugh until they’re sighing and already cracking open another bottle of beer.

You admire him from afar, and you can’t help but be mesmerized by the way he moves: such grace, such elusiveness. The glass in his hand isn’t cheap beer or tequila; it’s whiskey that looks rich as fuck, and he swigs it back like it’s water. You remember the first time your father and mother brought whiskey home from the local liquor store. Your father didn’t enjoy it, and neither did your mother. It sat in a random cupboard until a year ago when your mother decided to throw it out.

He lets out an exhale as the amber liquid flows down his throat, and you watch in awe as he handles the burn like a champion. God, you can’t even handle beer if you try hard enough. He gently places the glass onto the table, far away from the men’s feet, as he knows that they can be quite clumsy. There must be a proper name for all feelings; you believe. Like that feeling when it dawns on you that you’ll never experience something like this ever again.

Or maybe the feeling that Helmut has right now. Not the excitement of finishing this film, and not the tiredness that is a result of working too hard. No, the feeling that he knows you’re watching him from over the fence. He sans his hand towards you, and you quickly duck down, letting out a whimper. You nearly fall from the small ladder, but it wouldn’t be so graceful if it did happen. “What’s wrong, Baron?” one of his co-stars teasingly asks.

“Nothing... Must’ve been the whiskey…”

You don’t hate the summer; you just don’t like the boredom. Even relaxation is something you can tire of, believe it or not. You’ve got nothing to do. Your friends are still out of town, and your parents are at work. You’ve cleaned the house not once, not twice, but three times. Your closet is as clean as it’ll ever be, and the pantry is now organized by most used to least used. The plants have been properly watered, even though it wasn’t necessary since the forecast said there’d be light rain.

You love the rain, especially during the summertime. The sky makes the surrounding world have an almost orange tone to it. The after smell––an earthy, oceanic scent that is so unique––is something you’ll forever look forward to. You’re excited for the day it’ll rain, but even meteorologists tend to be wrong, and Mother Nature has a thing for keeping her children on their toes. It’s one of the many reasons why you love her. So with your little red dress on, you spin around in the backyard.

You’re sensible. You know what creepy crawlers lie underneath the dirt, between the fluffy grass. So instead of being barefoot (just like in those Sofia Loren movies) and playing around, you grab that little latter once again. You’ve scrubbed the grooves and cleaned them of their plant stains––sloppily, of course. Your oversized slippers belong to your dad, and they struggle to stay on your feet, but it doesn’t matter.

You’re not going to be moving around much, anyway. You move the latter closer to where you last saw the group of men and women. You truly hope you don’t get caught and get into any trouble; the last thing you want is your parents scolding you and embarrassing you. You step up on the ladder carefully, grasping onto the wooden fence for support. The surface is hot to the touch, and you really want to let go, but you really shouldn’t. You whisper affirmations along the lines of ‘I won’t fall…’ over and over again, under your breath.

And you hope to God they work.

Admittedly, you also hope he’s wearing those blue swim shorts of his again. The look (and he) resides in your heart, amongst other tubes and canals that have learned to make room for friends, family and passions. But he’s not a friend, he’s not family, and he’s most certainly not a passion. ...He’s something else, that’s for sure. An enigma, really. He reminds you of that feeling––the one that has a name, temptation. Someone tells you not to do something you weren’t going to do in the first place, and now you want to do it.

Except the case is different. You shouldn’t be perving on strangers like this––sneaking up on them, spying on them––all because you just can’t help it. Your mind tells you to stop, but it’s just giving you all the more reason to continue doing it. So, until you nearly get caught one more time, you’ll continue to watch him. Desperate to figure out who he is and what he’s doing.

The cameras are no longer on the ground; a smart decision, given that there’s a pool that takes up more space than anything. The blue water of pools has always fooled you. You grew up believing that it was the true colour of water, not even knowing that it was, in fact, the tiles and not the water. There’s no mess there either, clean and tidy. Maybe professionally done, because the concrete has but not one dark spot or crease where grass grows out of it.

Laid perfectly, you know your mother and father would admire it for a few minutes. You squint your eyes and gaze at the glass sliding door. Inside is him. You let out one of those dreamy, love-filled sighs that only main characters do in romance movies. You watch him as he pours himself a cup of coffee, two spoonfuls of sugar, and a dash of what seems to be almond milk.

You wonder if he likes iced coffees, as they can be so nice during the summertime. He wears those lovely blue swim shorts once again, hair slightly damp (with a pretty curliness to a few strands) and a navy bathrobe. It’s that same outfit as the other time you saw him, and you realize that they’re probably filming a movie. He moves around the counter, putting away certain little ingredients and whatnot.

The most mundane actions ever, ones that even you did just this morning. But god, he just makes it all seem so unique. He cards his fingers through his brown, almost dirty blond hair. There are clumps of strands that stick together, wetness that’ll dry probably as soon as he steps outside. He faces the window, staring out towards the fence that has been freshly painted, and sighs.

His head lulls back, and his neck is exposed. He’s probably both an actor and a model, you think to yourself. His chest hair has grown a bit more, and you can’t find yourself complaining. Tingles run through your body and even down to your pussy. You rub your thighs together, trying to make the feeling go away, while still being careful about holding onto the fence. You hope that he doesn’t know you’re watching him because you’ll never be able to live that down.

And it’s just so unfortunate that Helmut is such a clever man. Heightened senses from when he used to camp a lot when he was younger; he just knows practically everything. He knows you’re watching him, squinting your eyes until they’re nearly shut close. The skin around them wrinkles in the most adorable way, just like the way your nose scrunches up out of instinct. God, he could kiss every crevice of your body, even if you don’t know who he is.

“Hey, Helmut, we have a few re-shoots to do. Do you want to start now?” one of the cameramen asks him, holding a microphone in his hand. “No… I’m tired; we’ll do it all tomorrow,” Helmut says, waving his hand. He’s no longer looking outside and instead at the man who he’s addressing. He nods and walks off before Helmut follows him. Common courtesy is to always escort your guests out, and Helmut was raised with manners. With a hand on the man’s lower back, and a smile on his face, Helmut gently pushes him out the door and locks it.

You watch him as he disappears, seemingly leading someone out of his home, and you think all is fine. That is until that little voice in your mind decides to be obnoxious. The slight possibility that you’ve been caught and he’s mad haunts you, and your breath hitches. Your eyeballs are wide open, as big as the eyes of an owl, and your hands shake a bit out of fear. They dampen up a bit, not enough to the point where you’d be disgusted, but they’re clammy nonetheless.

You make a move to jump off the latter, not caring about the possible risk of falling and scraping your pretty legs. Your hands begin to let go of the fence, but they’re stopped by someone grabbing you by your wrists. You let out a squeal of shock as they hold you tightly from over the barrier, and you’re screwed. “I’m sorry!” you quickly yell, squinting your eyes out of fear. You’re not sure what to expect, whether he would yell at you or threaten to call the cops.

“No, it’s okay. Calm down, I’m not mad. Come back,” Helmut tells you, and you calm down. Yet you’re still nervous, scared that he’s a liar and that you’ll be in deep shit with the law. You step back onto the latter and are wary of looking over the wood. His eyes meet yours, and you swallow thickly. “I’m not mad, okay? I think it’s kind of cute. You’re like a curious little bunny,” he smiles, and you giggle.

“Never been called that before, usually just a curious cat,” you share with him, and he laughs. “Well, that’s not wrong,” he adds. A brief silence intrudes, and you just stare at one another. Helmut’s eyes jump from feature to feature on your face, relishing in that unique gorgeousness of yours. Someone like you will never be found amongst models because you’re an absolute angel. You’re like a pretty rose amongst other flowers; all are beautiful in their own ways, but you always manage to stand out.

You wonder if Helmut is the wolf to your bunny. That dark look in his eyes that compliments his features and overall attitude. He carries himself in such a way that old Hollywood actors wish they were so graceful. He’s the polar opposite of you––seemingly. But from the few words you’ve exchanged with each other, he just might be a bunny friend to yours. “I- I saw that there were cameras and I heard people talking… Are you filming a movie?” you ask him.

“...Yes, we are, bunny. I apologize for being so loud. Do you forgive me?” Helmut questions with a smile on his face. You nod your head and bite on your bottom lip, watching as his eyes brighten up a bit. “What’s it about? Can I know? Are you the main protagonist? Or the antagonist? What genre is it?” you interrogate, flooding him with questions. “Shh, one at a time, bunny. It’s very, very special and secretive. I can’t tell you much. But I’m the main protagonist, and it’s a bit of a naughty movie, so I don’t think a little girl like you should know much,” he whispers to you.

You nod your head as you listen to him, so intrigued about the work of art being filmed next door. “I’ve always wanted to be in a movie! Especially in one of those old Hollywood ones, they’re so good,” you admit to him shyly, with a coy smirk on your face. “Really? I think you’d be an amazing actress. You’d be even more popular than Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe,” Helmut praises, and you giggle once again.

“T- Thank you so much! ...Can I be in your movie?” you politely request him, but he shakes his head. You frown, your bottom lip jutted out. “You wouldn’t want to be in this movie, bunny. Remember what I said? It’s a naughty movie, and you’re just a little girl,” he reminds you, but you’re still pouting. “Is it a violent movie? One with curse words and lots of scary stuff?” you innocently ask, not sure as to what he means.

Helmut laughs quite loudly. “No,” he stifles a chuckle, “but one day I’ll shoot a movie with you, and I’ll show you how it’s all done.” He promises, and you can just tell he’s honest. You’re elated, hoping that the day he’s talking about will come soon. “What is your name, bunny?” Helmut asks, and you tell him. He nods before repeating it, giving you a smile. He brings both of your hands close to his face. You go on the tip of your toes to properly watch him once more. He presses his lips to the back of your hands, kisses them one by one.

“Go get some rest, bunny, and come by my place tomorrow,” he tells you before letting go of your wrists. He walks off before you do anything else. Sliding the glass door behind him, he disappears somewhere, and you’re left all by yourself. You’re still standing there, sighing dreamily as you replay the moments that will surely turn into a broken record. You hope that he’ll wear those blue swim shorts again, even though he’s already worn them twice.

There’s a skip in your step—nothing new and nothing unusual. Your shoes scratch against the concrete of the sidewalk that connects to Helmut’s front door. The sun only rose an hour and a half ago. The sky is a bright blue, filled with a few clouds that compliment the colour. The sun beats down onto your skin, and you haven’t forgotten to put on sunscreen once you finish twirling around in your little sundress.

You’ve got a miniature backpack that is slung over both of your shoulders. It’s orange, a bright one, in fact. It reminds you of the tangerines you love to peel, and those creamsicle treats that can be quite rare to find at this time of the year. You climb up the two steps that lead to his grey door, and you rap the wood a few times. There’s a doorbell too, one of those high-tech ones that record everything in its view.

Nothing but silence echoes back. No cars driving by, no birds chirping, no insects buzzing. Nothing. You wonder if he’s woken up yet, or if he’s even home. But as the door suddenly swings open––without a squeak, mind you––you’re met with the smiling face that belongs to Helmut. “Good morning, early-bird, is everything alright?” he questions, not one ounce of sleep tainting his look.

“Good morning! Everything is alright… D- Do you remember what you told me yesterday? About coming by?” you ask him, almost thinking to yourself that you’re just insane and that conversation never really happened. “Oh, right! Sorry, I've been a bit forgetful lately. But come in, have you eaten already?” Helmut asks as he moves to the side for you to enter.

Hesitatingly, you step inside his home. You kick off your shoes and look around. It seems sleek and modern at first, quite… different from the familiar feel of your house. Now, there are no wild polygons or geometric shapes that make you feel like you’ve been placed on a spaceship. No, it’s something that even your mind can’t come up with. The walls are a cream colour, engraved with different patterns that make it resemble marble. The chairs and couches have clear plastic legs on them, adding to that newfound era feel.

The floors are a light brown colour; wood in the shape of long, skinny parallelograms fitting against each other perfectly. The lights hang down a bit, high ceilings that you can’t even fathom reaching. You spin around and look up at them as they shine down brightly on you. They stem down from a pretty grey bronze appliqué that is attached to the ceiling. It’s practically art, just like the portraits of half-naked ladies that hang on his walls. There’s a specific piece that is above the fireplace.

It’s a mirror, and your reflection is in it. So is Helmut’s. You’re in front of him, looking at him through the mirror. He’s behind you, staring at your reflection. You both stay like that for a bit before you look away and admire the windows. He has such a lovely view; you can’t help but envy him for it. “Now, bunny, I have to be honest with you. We wrapped the movie up last night, and it was very late. I didn’t call you over because of that, and I’m really sorry about that. Do you forgive me?” Helmut questions.

You nod your head eagerly, just sensing that he’ll lead on with some sort of good news. Your parents have done that far too many times for you not to know better. “But, if you want, I’ll put you in a movie. It’ll be just between you and me because it won’t be too professional, okay?” Helmut grabs your hands and looks you in the eyes, waiting for your answer. “Oh, yes, please! That sounds amazing. Thank you so much!” you cheer, wrapping your arms around him.

You hug him tightly, and he eventually hugs you back. “Now, I want to finish it as soon as possible. So set your bag right on this couch, and go sit on that one,” Helmut instructs, pointing at the biggest couch in the living room. You nod and do exactly as he tells you. He walks away, possibly to set something up or to get ready, but either way, you still sit on his couch, filled with pure excitement. You cross one leg over the other, your pretty white dress covering the upper half of your thighs.

Lace that is on top of the cotton, both the same colour, and you realize how much you love this dress. Helmut saunters back into the living room, holding a giant tripod in one hand and a small camera in the other. You gasp at the sight, and he chuckles. Setting them up from the other side of the small coffee table, you watch him in awe. “This is going to be… a big girl movie, okay? Just like the one I was in. But I don't think it will be visible to the public eye, might just be between you and I,” Helmut tells you.

You nod in understanding. “Are you fine with that, little bunny?” he asks you just for reassurance. “Mhm, you can do anything you want; I don’t mind!” you reassure him, with a giant smile on your face. He swallows thickly as blood rushes downwards to his cock from your words. You still grin gleefully, such innocence on your features that he almost feels bad for having feelings for you.

He presses the little power button on the camera and waits for a green light to come on. With a smirk, Helmut walks around the table and stands in front of you. You look up at him, waiting for him to do something. He bends down and grabs both sides of your face––gently, of course––and he makes you stand up. He tilts his head and leans forward, slotting his lips against yours.

Now, you’ve kissed someone before. His name started with something along the lines of ‘J’ or ‘L,’ but that doesn’t matter. But that kiss was nothing like Helmut’s kiss. His kiss is soft and passionate, something you struggle to match. His lips stay locked with yours before moving to push his tongue into your mouth. You’re not sure what to do, so you just give up and let him kiss you until you both run out of breath. His tongue runs against the wet skin of your mouth, and you gasp at the feeling.

He eventually pulls away, and he looks at you with his eyes blown out. Helmut sighs and smiles at you. “You gotta trust me, okay?” he tells you once more, and you nod. “Ok…” you trail off, not knowing what to follow up with. “You gotta call me by a nickname, bunny… Hmm, how about Daddy?” he exclaims, his accent becoming more prominent. You love it and how unique it is. “Okay! I like that one a lot, my friend calls her boyfriend that sometimes,” you share with him, and he laughs.

He sits you down on the couch again, and his hand inches up your dress, making you giddy. He smiles at you, and you can see from the corner of your eye how the camera is filming you both. Helmut just knows you’re wet already, but you probably don’t know it. And he’s not wrong. You feel slightly tingly, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. Your panties slide down your legs, a wet patch on them, and Helmut throws them to the side. He lifts your dress over your head and tosses the fabric away, too.

He takes a step back and admires you. You still have your ankle socks on, but God, you’re so gorgeous he thinks he’s in heaven. “You’re so pretty, bunny. The prettiest bunny I’ve ever seen,” he compliments. You grow shy and smile before whispering a thank you. You smile at the camera, and he begins to undress. The first thing that goes is the robe, and his chest is now exposed.

Helmut hasn’t shaved his chest hair, and you’re glad. It looks nice on him––but to be fair––anything does. All he has on is those swim shorts. God, you love those shorts so much. They’re no longer wet, and yet they still cling to his thighs. He slowly pulls them down––and you feel as though you should look away and give him privacy––but you just can’t. His cock is hard, and it shows through the fabric, but you’re too busy staring at his hands to notice it.

His Adonis belt is slowly exposed, along with his pelvic bone, as he pulls down his boxers as well. There’s a small bush of hair right above his cock, and you find yourself wanting to tangle your fingers between the strands. Helmut’s cock bounces up––hard, red, and leaking––and the tip slaps right below his belly button. You let out a gasp, and he chuckles. His swim shorts lie on the floor, and you’re suddenly being urged to lay back.

Helmut climbs on top of you, caging you beneath his well-built body. Soft abs that are just perfect enough for you, and big hands that hold you so lovingly. He wants to feel his rough palms against your delicate skin, falling into every groove and curve there is. Like an artist admiring their artwork, he runs his hands along your body. From your thighs to your hips, over your stomach, between your breasts, all the way up to your neck. His hard cock is between your legs, nearly touching your sensitive little pussy.

You swallow nervously at the feeling. Helmut’s left hand wraps around your throat, and his right hand moves downwards to your legs. Gripping your calf, he places your right leg on the head of the couch and moves to position your left leg so that it hangs off the edge of the seat. You’re spread wide open for Helmut, not able to hide your naked body or close your legs. Your hands rest above your head, almost as though you’re pathetically shielding your hair from the rain.

Helmut’s hand still rests on your neck, but he doesn’t squeeze your throat or anything like that. You’re not sure if he’s playing the antagonist or not, but you decide to just go along with what he does. “You’re okay, right, bunny? You’re fine, I’m gonna treat you so good,” he promises, and you give him your best superstar smile. You have to admit that you’re nervous, but you trust him completely. Helmut would never do anything wrong to you.

“Has anyone ever touched you down here, bunny? Have you ever touched down here?” he questions you, walking his fingers up to your soaking wet pussy. “Hmm, uh, I touched it once, but I didn’t know what was happening, so I stopped,” you shyly explain to him, and he nods. “That’s okay, bunny. Can I touch you here? I won’t hurt you too badly, I promise,” Helmut assures you, and you nod. His index finger sticks out, and he watches as slick drips from your hole and coats the silky skin around it.

The digit becomes a bit shiny and quite sticky, and he traces your slit lightly. You shiver lightly from his touch, and sensitivity blooms in your core. “Uhm… Daddy?” you call out to him, a bit worried. “What’s wrong, bunny?” he asks, bringing his finger up to your clit. It throbs with want, just like the veins on his cock. “It feels very sensitive, almost too sensitive…” you admit to him, even though he continues to touch your clit.

“That’s okay, bunny, that’s how it’s supposed to feel. But if you want to stop, just tell me,” Helmut urges you. “Okay, Daddy.” He rubs your little nub in small, light circles. The muscles in your legs twitch, and you bite down on your bottom lip. He continues to touch your clit, and you begin to writhe from the overwhelming feeling. You let out a few whines, and Helmut watches as your cunt just gets wetter and wetter.

You try to shift his hands away from you in your weird position. It’s just too much at once, and you’re scared of what will happen next. The pornstar’s finger slips off your cunt, and he lets out a small gasp. The sound is mixed with displeasure, and you look him in the eyes with innocence. “Don’t do that again, bunny,” he warns, squeezing your neck a bit just to add to his threat. His index finger returns to your clit, and this time, he rubs your little pearl even harder. You see stars, ones that are dark and would be hidden in the blackness of outer space. Your eyes roll back into your skull, and you’ve never felt such pleasure in your life. Helmut’s digit touches the most sensitive part of your clit, and you jerk in response. Your legs try to shut close, but his body stops you from doing so.

When you open your eyes, you’re faced with a displeased superstar. Helmut lets out a shaky exhale, trying to compose himself. He knows he shouldn’t get mad at you, but he just doesn’t like it when he doesn’t have his way. His hand leaves your cunt and moves downwards. Suddenly, a harsh slap lands on your ass, making you cry out in pain. The skin stings and prickles, and you can feel slight tears beginning to form in your eyes.

Instead of staring at your pretty little face, Helmut squeezes your neck even tighter and watches as your little hole begins to leak with even more wetness. “Aww, bunny, did you enjoy Daddy hitting you? Hm? I bet you did; that’s you’re so wet,” he chuckles, and you grow shy. He’s not wrong, though. You enjoyed the pain quite a bit, even though you tend to avoid any and all activities that could leave you with a minor injury.

“Such a little slut for pain. But I bet you don’t like it when Daddy gets mean with you, right? Yeah, because you’re just a sensitive little bunny,” he coos, and you smile. You nod to him, and he grins down at you. Helmut’s cock is a furious red, almost purple if you really look closely. Beads of precum run down the sides of his cock, all the way to his thick base. He slaps your ass once more, enjoying the way you flinch and then smile from delight.

“I guess I’ve been a bit mean, just touching your little button without even letting you come…” he sighs before shifting onto his knees. Helmut looks over to the camera, just to make sure it’s still recording. And it is, so he smiles. He towers over you even more now, a few strands on his hair dangling downwards, and you find yourself wanting to play with them. The hand that was on your ass grasps the base of his cock, and he runs the head through your folds.

A quiet squelching sound echoes between the both of you, and you giggle. Your laughter is cut short when he bumps up against your clit, and you let out a moan. The sound is unexpected on your behalf, but Helmut just smirks. Your moans turn into a string of shallow pants, and he curses under his breath at the feeling. Dragging his head away from your clit, he brings himself down to your hole, and you let out an even louder gasp.

“Shh, just let Daddy in, okay? I know it’s your first time, but it’s okay. You’re fine, don’t worry,” Helmut reassures. You nod your head and let out a pained cry as he pushes into you slowly. You feel as though you’re being torn apart, split into two. He grips your throat even tighter, and you wrap your hand around his wrist in a panicked, fleeting moment.

Helmut sheathes himself inside you, with your mouth parted open in a silent scream and his eyebrows knitted together. He eventually bottoms out, and the stretch of his cock goes from a harsh burn to a pleasurable feeling. His swollen balls touch your aching ass, and he bends down to kiss your forehead lightly. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he questions. “Y- Yes, it feels really good, Daddy. Just a li’l uncomfortable, but it feels really good,” you tell him.

Your cunt squeezes him in a tight hug, your silky wet walls welcoming him in hesitantly. He wishes to stay inside you his whole life, and he would if he could convince you. Helmut pulls out until his head is the only thing inside you before roughly thrusting back inside. You cry out, and his hand loosens around your throat. “Such a good girl, letting me use your pussy for my pleasure. You like being recorded while I fuck you, right? Say it,” he demands, fucking into you roughly.

Your tits bounce with each and every movement. Helmut’s cock gets closer and closer to your sweet spot, and you moan loudly. “I- I like being recorded while you fuck me, Daddy,” you repeat to him. Helmut groans loudly, and you clench down on his cock tightly. “You feel so good, bunny, better than anyone else,” he compliments, feeling slick sweat beginning to build upon his back. “Uhm, Daddy? S- Something’s happening,” you whisper to him through your desperate cries of pleasure.

Searing heat grows hotter and hotter in your stomach, right above your pussy. You’ve never felt like this before, other than when Helmut was touching your pussy a few moments ago. “Let it happen, bunny, it’s okay, come all over Daddy’s big cock. I know you can do it, squeeze me, bunny,” Helmut urges, and you listen to him. The powerful feeling grows and grows, and so do your moans. And the elastic cord breaks eventually. It always does.

You cry out ‘Daddy’ as you come undone around his cock for the very first time. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm, even though you’re gripping him so tightly. You gush all over him, wetness coating his cock, and it makes him fuck you even quicker. The sound of skin on skin and loud moans fill the room, and Helmut hopes to God that the microphone is picking up on it all. The feeling in your body makes you lose all sense of reality, and you’re babbling like a little baby.

“Daddy- It’s too much,” you sob to him, digging your nails into your palms. “Shh, it’s okay, bunny,” he shushes gently, keeping his hand wrapped lazily around your neck. Helmut’s cock slams into your cunt, pounding into you ruthlessly, yet he’s somehow oh so gentle. Your eyes roll into the back of your head again, and you moan gently as you feel another climax being built up. Back to back, and you’re not sure how your body is going to handle it.

He’s close, too. He’s never had this happen before, and he’s not sure what to think of it.

“Awe, you’re going to come again, bunny? That’s okay, shh, Daddy’s here, bunny. We’ll do it together, and it’ll b- be good,” he tells you, and you nod. Helmut bends down and places his shiny forehead against yours. He stares you into your glassy eyes––they’re hazy––and he can tell you’re gone. You’ve gotten all stupid and dumb for his cock, and he loves the idea so much.

You both pant as he sloppily fucks into your cunt, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. “Fuck, I can’t wait to fill up your tight little pussy with my cum. Gonna watch it leak out, and I’m just gonna fill you up over and over again. Make you all mine because you belong to me. Right? Say it,” he growls, fucking you even faster. “I’m all yours, Daddy, I’m all yours,” you say to him, and you’re both pushed off the edge after one specific thrust.

“O- Oh my…” you choke out, squeezing your eyes shut. Helmut curses loudly, saying all kinds of sinful things that a nun would faint if she hears him. His cock twitches as he comes inside you, and your pussy squeezes him as you let go. Streaks of cum shoot out his tip and paint your inner walls, and it all begins to leak out already. Your cum mixes with his, and he can’t lie and say he doesn’t enjoy the sight of it.

He presses a kiss on your nose before slowly pulling out. Helmut’s cock is still hard, and he just knows the afternoon won’t end until he says so. You wince loudly at the feeling of emptiness and overwhelming sensitivity. “Sorry, bunny,” he frowns, reaching over for the camera. You watch him through droopy eyelids as he focuses it on your cunt, then to your body, and then to your face.

“Did I do good, Daddy?” you ask him excitedly.

“So good, bunny. You’re going to be sweeping up at the awards next year.”

[amatchinwater]

Pairing: Sterek

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale

Warnings: explicit sexual content, public sex, Dom/sub undertones, anal fingering, anal sex,

Words: 1782

Kinktober: Exhibitionism

Ao3 link Masterlist

---

Patience has never been a virtue Stiles had a grip on. Probably ever. So walking around town all day running errands with Derek is very far down on the list of things he’d like to be doing. Like Derek for instance. Doing him is very, very high on said list. Because even as a teenager, when Stiles got too bored, his hand was always right there to take care of his boredom. 

Can’t really do that in the middle of a post office. 

Well, to be fair, he could. Living in a world full of the supernatural, it’s not exactly rare to see mates having sex publically, it’s just no super common either. So, they definitely wouldn’t be interrupted or told to stop, someone might just give them a weird look. 

Stiles is almost to the point of not caring. 

“Derek,” he whines, “we’ve been out all day. Are we almost done?” 

The wolf opens the post office door for him to head out, “almost. With Cora’s birthday present in the mail, we just have one more stop.” 

“Is it a quick stop?” Stiles asks, curling into the Alpha’s arm, brimming with hope. 

Derek kisses his temple with a chuckle, leading him down the sidewalk, “yeah.” That didn’t sound very reassuring. “We just gotta grab a few groceries and then we can go home.” 

The fox groans dramatically, “that’s not quick!” Stiles is dangerously close to stomping his foot. Managing only just to not deadweight and make Derek all but drag him into the store. They pass the few people working the register as they grab their cart and other patrons on their way to whatever items are so important to his precious Alpha. Stiles is on edge, okay? He’s very pent up with not a very good reason as to why. 

There’s no way that Derek hasn’t smelled it on him yet. Stiles is pretty certain that the wolf knows exactly what’s wrong with him and is dragging out their tasks just to watch him squirm. His Alpha may be all broody and silence, but he absolutely knows how to toy with the fox. Derek holds his mate’s hand as he looks at their selection of frozen curly fries. While Stiles appreciates the sentiment, he’s going to burst. 

“Just get those,” Stiles points at random, both knowing good and well that he doesn’t care about the kind so long as they’re curly. Derek huffs his laugh through his nose, reaching into the store’s fridge to grab the bag. When the cart is half full, the fox is ready to start climbing the fucking shelves. He’s sporting a chub right now and walking isn’t all that fun. And Derek just smells so fucking good. 

Stiles can’t think straight. Ever since becoming a fox it’s been a little harder for him to control his libido with everything being heightened. Have you seen Derek’s ass in those jeans? If the fox doesn’t climb the shelves he’s going to climb himself a goddamn werewolf. “Der,” Stiles whispers, pressing his forehead between the wolf’s shoulder blades, curling his fingers into his leather jacket. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” Derek asks, sounding far too innocent. Pretending like he doesn’t know what’s happening right now. That Stiles is seconds away from claiming he’s in heat or something with how fucking horny he is. But that’s impossible because Omegas don’t exist. But that also doesn’t change the fact that Stiles is now hard as a rock in his pants and doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

He hears a couple walk beside them in the aisle. Stiles doesn’t even bother risking a peek. Too lit up. Too ready to go. He needs to get the fuck out of here or excuse himself to the bathroom. Something. “Please tell me we’re almost done,” the fox pants the words, breaths getting shorter. Thicker. Harder to maintain alongside his pounding heart. 

“Almost,” Derek tells him, “just a few more things.”

That fucking does it. 

Stiles groans in frustration, “fine! I’m going to the bathroom then.” 

That gets his Alpha’s attention and suddenly they’re nose to nose. Oh shit. “Why?” Derek sounds teasing, “so you can jerk yourself off in the bathroom? Too horny that you can’t wait for this one thing to be done so that I can take you home? Not happening,” the wolf’s face hardens, “you can wait.” 

Nope. No he cannot. 

“Derek,” the fox says the name with as much conviction as he can muster, cock aching in his jeans, “I’m going to the bathroom. I have to take care of this!” Stiles whisper shouts, “either that or I walk around with cum in my pants because you don’t want to take care of me. Or let me do it myself very quickly in the fucking bathroom.” 

Derek’s hand wraps around his throat and his back hits the shelves. The couple in the aisle stops to look at them. Unsure to help or keep walking. Don’t worry, Stiles is far from in danger. Not even his back against the shelves hurt him. His mate’s eyes bleed red, “keep acting like a fucking brat,” the Alpha leans closer, “and I will fuck you right here for everyone to see. Do you understand me?”

The fox chuckles, a teasing, flirty sound, “I don’t think you will, Der.” It wasn’t exactly his intention to make Derek angry per say, but it’s seeming to work in his favor. Stiles is all for poking the bear if it gets him what he wants and they’re both happy about it. “I bet they’d love a good show,” Stiles turns and winks at the couple still watching them, “wouldn’t you?” 

“Careful,” Derek rumbles in his chest, sounding far more wolf than man. God, that’s fucking hot. Stiles loves when he just lets go. “I’ll split you open on my knot in the middle of a fucking store. Don’t test me.”

Eyes flashing orange at his mate, Stiles whispers,” you. Won't.” But please, please, do.

That was the last straw for his mate. The fox is whipped around, face pressed against bags of chips with Derek’s hand at the nape of his neck keeping him in place. The Alpha’s warm breath brushes against his ear, free hand working on the belt of Stiles’ pants. The woman whispers, “are they-”

“Yup,” her boyfriend answers beside her. Sounding just as pleased as the fox is about the development. 

“But-” she tries again as Derek tugs the fox’s pants to his ankles.

“Babe, hush,” he all but hisses under his breath, “he’s an Alpha. I’d like to not turn into collateral damage here if he thinks we’re trying to interrupt them.” 

Stiles isn’t so sure anything is going to interrupt his mate right now, moaning as Derek slips in a second finger. He’s not even remotely trying to bite back his sounds. The fox could care less if the entire store chose to migrate into this aisle and watch what’s about to happen. 

“Impatient,” Derek scolds, every syllable a slurred growl around his fangs, accentuated with a slap to his ass. “Ten minutes,” the wolf says, “we would’ve been leaving in ten minutes.” Stiles’ eyes roll back, his mate’s long fingers jabbing the bundle of nerves deep inside of him. Clearly Derek’s wolf thinks that two fingers is sufficient enough prep because they slide out of him. A zipper pulls down while the Alpha pulls back the collar of Stiles’ shirt, reopening the mark he’d left with his fangs as he thrusts himself all the way in. In one harsh snap of his hips. 

Stiles screams out, the sudden sensation of being so full of Derek’s cock and his fangs in his flesh, he cums. Just like that. A blush would tinge his cheeks in embarrassment had the fox not felt like he’d been holding that orgasm back for hours. Hell, he pretty much had. The burn doesn’t even hurt. Derek may be rough, but he wouldn’t hurt him. The suddenness and literally cuming from the first thrust was a lot to take in. 

“My sweet mate,” the Alpha rumbles in his chest, moving his hips back only to slam them forward. The fox has to grab the shelf to keep himself stable. Derek has one hand pinched into his hip, the other wraps around his throat, keeping them impossibly close, “you’re a brat, but you’re mine. If anyone is going to make you cum when you’re that far gone, it’s me. Say it, Stiles. Mine,” Derek snarls, nipping at his ear. 

“Yours, Derek,” Stiles moans, trying to push back to meet his mate’s thrusts. “Just yours, Alpha. Please, please,” he whines, Derek’s cock railing into his prostate fiercely, coaxing Stiles closer to another orgasm faster than he’d care to admit. 

“Are you gonna cum again, sweetheart?” Derek asks, pounding into him faster. Harder, the way only an Alpha can as his knot starts to swell at the base of his cock. 

“Oh my god,” the woman mutters, sounding breathless. Stiles doesn’t care enough to look and see if watching them made her horny enough to do something in a grocery store too. But the fox does know that his ass doesn’t smell like that. One way or another, she’s certainly being taken care of. 

The fox’s head falls slack, pliant to his Alpha’s amazingly brutal pace. Letting Derek use every ounce of werewolf strength he’s willing to give him. “Please, Der,” Stiles gasps out, his mate’s hand falling from his throat to fist his dick. Pumping the fox in time with his thrusts. 

“Cum,” Derek grunts. “Cum on my knot,” the Alpha snarls, his thick knot pushing past the rim and locking them together. “Stiles,” Derek moans, grinding his hips until warmth spreads deep in his core. His mate fills him with his cum as Stiles’ own spills over the wolf’s hand. 

“Holy shit,” Stiles huffs his breaths, feeling boneless and perfectly floaty. Derek’s knot nestled inside of him has that effect. With grace that even being a fox he couldn’t hope to possess, his mate manages to maneuver them into a sitting position so Stiles can be more comfortable. It’d be better if they were laying down, he’ll admit, but honestly, who wants to lay on these floors? Not Stiles. 

Derek chuckles softly behind him, nose brushing the nape of his neck, “better now?” He sounds incredibly soft despite the continued rumble vibrating his chest. Opening lazy brown eyes, Stiles finds the couple in a similar position and a few other people lurking near the ends of the aisle that chose to watch them. The fox snickers to himself, resting his head against Derek’s, “yeah,” he sighs happily, “much better.”

[branmuffins22]

Thanks for the tag! Sorry about the absence these last few weeks (and all those unanswered asks 😬). Health has been a smidge sketchy, spoons and sleep in short supply. But I've been a bit better lately, I think!

Filenames (all are fanfics of The Owl House):

Masha and the Very Normal Nocedas; a post-finale, pre-epilogue, Veesha-centric longfic about Masha's increasingly crazed attempts to figure out the whole Deal™ with Luz, Vee, and Hunter. Meanwhile, the Nocedas are trying as hard as possible to be normal and inconspicuous, made difficult by their various traumas, talents, and a certain purple palisman's refusal to leave her witch's side. It's a light-hearted mess. I've still got some edits to do to the chapters I've already written (mostly for flavor), and I'm still trying to draft the second half-ish of chapter 3 (it's already been outlined), but once all that's done, I should be able to start posting with a comfortable buffer.

Something Like a Bible; a test document of sorts for my canon rewrite, tentatively either the "Artificer AU" or "Overthinker AU", going over the broad-strokes plot and its divergences from canon via a series of short scenes and vignettes. The characters and motivations remain almost entirely unchanged, but I'm lengthening and rearranging the timeline to explore new plots and leave more space for supplemental adventures in the season 2 equivalent, as well as doing perhaps a bit too much worldbuilding, headcanon dumping, and so on. I think I need to go back and flesh out the second half of the season 1 equivalent, but then I can pick up with the meat and potatoes of the magic system exploration.

Small Town Paranormal Investigations; an episode from the aforementioned AU, in which the Hexsquad and Cabin 7 team up to, as the name suggests, investigate some paranormal activity in the small town of Gravesfield. It's mostly about the ghost hunt, but it'll also include Vee coming out to her friends from camp. I'm writing this one in something as close as I can manage to the style and pacing of the show, and I only just finished the opener, with small blurbs written of later scenes, so there's still a lot to do. Thankfully, the brainrot has been very kind to this fic lately.

Snippet is the tail end of the opening scene from Small Town Paranormal Investigations:

The temperature suddenly did a nosedive, as something like a breath of icy wind blew past, the faraway echo of a sharp woosh trailing behind it a full second later. Goosebumps sprouted along their arms and legs, and the hairs on the back of their neck stood straight up. They felt as though they'd stepped into an industrial freezer, all warmth blasted away in an instant, still gone long after the culprit gust had passed. The others must've noticed it too, as all four of them went tense and still. "Brr," they shivered, "The heck was that?" "Beats me!" said Baker. "A cold front?" Lance offered. "Oh, looks like a whirlwind," said "Luz", nervously pointing just off to the side of the sidewalk. Sure enough, a tiny scattering of schoolday detritus, from gum wrappers to flashcards, twisted and danced away at astonishing speed. It slid straight under a tree, incidentally gathering a few leaves, and then bent around the corner of the school building, the warmth of the spring afternoon returning at the very instant it passed from sight. "…Weird," Masha remarked. "Yeah…" "Luz" sniffed once, twice, before making a rather intense face. "Very weird." Masha raised an eyebrow at her. They opened their mouth to ask something, but before they could find their words, she turned back to keep walking, prompting the others to do the same. "Wanna do that hangout today? Right now?" she urged, pulling out her phone. Lance responded first, "Hm? Sure." Baker followed, "I'm down." Masha, though, merely stared at her for a bit. She was clearly deflecting, trying to change the subject. But why? "…Yeah," they relented. "Cool. Just gotta let my mom know where I'm at," she muttered. Scanning over her shoulder, she was already at least three messages deep into a conversation, though they didn't spot Mrs. Noceda's usual contact photo. With some hesitation, they decided to drop it, for now. It was probably nothing, anyways; just some weird wind putting them all on edge. Though their own brain was trying to tamp down ideas about the strange and supernatural, hers was probably just stuck on the fear of the unexplained. Besides, she'd always been kinda jumpy. It'd make sense for it to bug her the most. Oh well. If she ever wanted to talk it out, they'd listen.

WIP Wednesday Game

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

Requested/Friend event mentions under the cut! If you'd like to be pinged next week, let me know!

Friends @fiore-della-valle @redbirdblogs @greenbergsays @idkfandomwhatever @luckyspike

@obaewankenope @mad-madam-m @anonymousdandelion @geometricfractal @prettybirdy979

@eriquin | Requests @aparticularbandit @madnessfromthemountains @makeroftherunes @1attheedge

@whimsicalmeerkat @kidsomeday @lizhly-writes @skyderman @adhdavinci

@owlbearwrites @anachronismstellar @anyctibius @rilannon @lazinesswrites

@zyrafowe-sny @dreaminghour @blue-eyedbeta @candyskiez @dreamerking27

@kalira @virgulesmith @i-want-delfeur @selkies-world @exceedinglygayotter

[metalheadcowboy]

”Billy!-” Steve barely got out before all of the air was pushed suddenly out of his throat with one sharp tug of his collar. The world before him went foggy and blurry around the edges as he gasped trying regain what he lost.

The brunette could barely make out the silhouette of his boyfriend laid out half on the sidewalk in front of The Hawk cinema and half on the asphalt in front of it, seemingly unconscious and covered in his own blood.

Steve struggled against the firm grasp on the neck of his Polo, “Lemme-” he strained, reaching his arms around to grip and grab at the bigger mans wrist, “- go!”

“Something wrong, loverboy?” Now another guy came into view, one who had to have been at least ten years older than either he or Billy and reeked of something strong. He barely gave Steve even a chance to speak before remarking, “Cat got your tongue?”

He lunged forward only to be pulled right back into place, drawing another gagging, coughing fit out of him which only made the two men laugh, “Aw, cute, fag thinks he take us,” the man behind Steve spoke.

“Shut up,” the teen croaked, blinking his eyes as tears brimmed them, willing himself not to blow chunks. Or maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing in this situation.

“Well that’s what you are, right?” The tipsy man questioned, rank breath causing Steve to scrunch up his nose, “No other reason for you and that street rat to be holdin’ hands down the street, kid, I ain’t dumb.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Steve’s mouth, “Coulda fooled me.” Wrong choice. Suddenly a fist collided right with the brunette’s nose, blood practically spraying out as he could hear something crunch.

“Fuck!” he cried, mouth hanging wide open in pain, eyes squeezing shut because this guy punched a hell of a lot harder than Jonathan Byers, or Billy himself for that matter.

Steve’s face scrunched up in pain, only making the pounding in his nose worse and right now he wished it weren’t so late, wish there were people around to see what was happening. But that also begged the question, ‘would anybody care?’. Would anybody in this hellscape town care if two queer teens were getting beat up by a couple of drunks in the early hours of the morning or would the older men be doing the town a service?

He got his answer quicker than he expected as the ringing in his ears let way to something else. Police sirens. He Steve would be crying of happiness of he wasn’t already crying out of pure pain.

“Shit!” he heard one guy hiss before the pressure on his Adam’s apple loosened and his collar was released. Steve’s eyes instantly shot open to catch a glimpse of the two guys running, or rather stumbling down the back alley of the movie theater. Part of him wanted to run after them, wanted to beat them to a pulp, but even he was smart enough to know two against one was never a fair fight. And, besides, he had more important business to attend to.

“Oh, God,” he cried out, looking across at Billy again, this time actually being able to run to him. He practically fell to his knees, staring at the barely recognizable face of his lover, moving to cradle his blood soaked head in his hands, “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, alright,” he spoke softly to the blonde’s out cold body, “We’re gonna get you stitched up and good as new, okay? Then we can go home and watch a movie, or go to the park and feed the ducks, I know how much you like that.” Steve smiled slightly, salty tears breaking through the crimson caked onto Billy’s face, “Just hang on for me, baby, please hang on.”

As soon as he heard the door to the cop car swing open he started screaming at the tops of his lungs, louder than he swears he ever has, “Help! Please help! Get a medic or something, please!” He was no longer focused on his own pain, broken nose but a second thought as he could only dream of how hard that bastard slammed his beautiful boyfriends head into the curb.

As the cop stepped closer he spoke loud and clear some kind of code into his walkie along with a request for backup. Steve knew that voice, not well, but he knew it.

“Hopper?” he questioned frantically, letting himself fall flat on his ass trying to turn around to get a look at the officer, “Hop!” he cried out of pure joy, probably looking like a lunatic, hair sticking out in every direction, fresh blood, not his own, covering his hands. Steve stood up with a sudden burst of energy, “Please, Hop, you gotta help him, you gotta!”

“Woah, slow down, son-”

“They- They fuckin’ beat him half to death and just- they left! They went that way and- and I swear to God I’ll kill ‘em, I will-”

“Steve!” Hopper raised his voice, placing a warm hand on the teens shoulder, one that he, rightfully so, flinched away from, “Backup’s on the way, alright, just slow your roll, take a deep breath-”

“A deep breath? A deep breath? How the fuck am I supposed to do that when they almost killed Billy? When they almost killed my-”

Before Steve could get any further he was being hugged, a pair of large, oddly welcoming arms wrapping around his shoulders to hug him. And it took him a moment to get past the initial shock and reciprocate, but he did, and it helped. He could remember the last time he was hugged by someone non-romantically, by someone other than a lover and if he was completely honest it felt amazing.

“He’s gonna be okay, you have my word.” Hopper promised, somehow understanding their relationship and how much Billy meant to Steve just from the few seconds he had to take it all in.

“Okay.”