#also i tried to leave it open as to whether the camera was Screwed or not since i didn't wanna godmod but

[starredeclipse]

The first nightguard shift: the story continues

(Previous chapter linked here )

Spring and Foxy talked a little bit more about Madison before Chica came running back, Atom running after her as she turned and hid behind Spring, trash already lost during the chase “CHICA!” The gold brown rabbit looked at the man “Calm down will ya?” He said crossing his arms already finding this to be ridiculous “Calm down!?” Are you serious?? She’s running around eating trash! How can I be calm about that??” Atom squawked already feeling a migraine coming on “I don’t know, have you tried breathing through your mouth and out your nose?” The owner just looked at him absolutely dumbfounded with hints of disbelief that this rabbit didn’t seem to see the problem here “What’s that got to do with anything??” Foxy looked at Atom while Chica remained hidden as much as possible “You know, its what some people do to calm down” Spring said tilting his head since this guy didn’t seem to understand what he was saying. Atom let out a deep sigh “You know what, screw it, this is a waste of my time” the man pitched the bridge of his nose for a second before he turned his back to the bots “Just! Come on Spring, I’ll show you what you need to do, once I leave Chica is Your problem for the night” he walked off and eventually Spring did follow him when he looked at Foxy and then Chica.

“So, in this really weirdly located sort of….office I guess?? You have many monitors, this is the surveillance, use this old clunky tablet to flip through the camera’s that are not on the monitors, those are the outside camera’s. If somebody breaks in it is up to you to scare them off or if there’s too many people that don’t scare off easily you’ll have to alert the other animatronics to get into a secure room before you close yourself in using these doors and funny buttons next to the doors, one button opens the door and the other closes it. Once everyone is secure you have to open that clear case right there thats located under the desk, once its cover is removed just click the button and it will alert the police. Also the tablet has audio functions with a few prerecorded audio’s on it like barking dogs, men shouting, glass breaking, police sirens, alarm system and gun shots. You can play these audio’s over the available speakers that are in a lot of rooms if you would like to try to scare them off that way. Note any audio played from this tablet will be VERY loud because I haven’t had time to fix its volume levels when it comes to playing these audio’s……actually can you even use a tablet??” Atom asked looking at Springs hands, a tablet was touch screen so whether the animatronic could actually use it was unknown currently “I should be able to” Spring picked up the tablet and indeed it seemed pretty old but functional as it booted up and the bot was greeted with a few camera’s and audio icons that showed which speaker was in which room. Spring touched the flat screen flipping through a few camera’s just to see if it would react to his touch and funny enough it did without a problem “Well at least that works” the man said before he went on “As for taking on people who refuse to leave but are alone, in theory you should be fine to man handle them but try not to injure them, I’ve heard of people suing the people they tried to rob just because they got hurt on that persons property” Spring looked confused upon hearing that statement “Huh? That makes no sense and breaking in and robbing is against the law so how can one sue when themselves broke the law?? They would get charged upon even admitting that to any person of the law” Atom just shrugged “I don’t know man, I just know it happened once and part of me isn’t sure that wasn’t fake news, I’m pretty sure that got made up because the news channel it played on was going to get the plug from lack of views until they ran that story.” Atom went on “Fake or not though, I’m not taking any chances. Now that you know what to do I’m going to leaving you a spare key so you can lock up come morning, your hours should make it so you can head back home before the kid has to wake up to go to school” he said this as he wrote down the bots hours on a piece of paper “As for pay, you will get paid at the end of each week or if preferred at the end of each month, that can be discussed later” the man put the keys on the desk before he turned and said “with all that info given to you, your on your own” Spring didn’t stop the man from leaving, actually he just relaxed a little bit as all the humans left the pizzeria and it was just the bots domain now.

Spring Cookie went to walking around, patrolling and checking on the other bots “Chica, no, don’t eat that” he said gently as she tried eating something he didn’t approve of, he took it from the bot before she looked him up and down “is that what your going to be wearing during your night shift?” He looked down at his clothes upon her question before looking back at her “yeah? What else would I wear?” Chica thought for a moment before she took his hand and led him into a room with more junk, he looked confused but once she let go she went around rummaging through things before she popped back up with a variety of sized uniforms “There old but it’ll make you look professional, I think these might be your size?” Spring very much doubted any of these would fit him “I….don’t know if I’ll actually need a uniform…..” he looked at her and she had a look in her eyes like ‘pretty please?’ “Aw come on sugarplum, it might not be needed but its tradition for every night guard to wear there uniform, do it for the tradition” she looked at him and he looked at her, they locked gazes for several minutes before Chica won this stare off, he sighed “alright but I can’t guarantee these will actually fit” he heard her go YEEEE! With excitement “I’ll leave you to change then!” She seemed oddly happy by this, so when she left he looked at these sizes and with doubt he took off his current outfit and changed into this uniform, he was very very surprised when they clothes actually fit “What did Fazbear back in the day just order one uniform in every size possible?” He mumbled to himself before he stored his other clothes away to come back to later. When he came out of the room Chica was waiting for him “OH MY GOSH! You look great!” She said with excitement clapping her hands gently, quick and closely together “Thanks” the bot said as she walked completely around him getting a full view of his uniform “We should show the others!” Before Spring could even say anything Chica took him by the hand and forced him to walk with her in a quick fashion until they reached the others.

“Oh guuuyyyssss!” Chive called to them practically skipping a little bit as she led the way. The moment Foxy took a look at Spring he busted out laughing “What is he wearing?!” The fox asked cackling “Foxy! Stop laughing!” The chicken demanded but the fox didn’t seem to listen “Whaaaat? He looks ridiculous!” The fox insisted as his laughing started to quiet down a little bit “No! He looks handsome! And as the official nightguard he is wearing it out of tradition!” Chica said defending this type of fashion statement “Oh please, whose tradition is he doing this for? It’s not like we’re owned by fazbear anymore” the fox snarked which resulted in Chica huffily getting close to his face “It’s not a fazbear tradition! It’s a night guard tradition! You would know that if you paid attention all these years” her eyes half closed as she crossed her arms “Oh yeah? Then what does Bonnie think about all of this?” The fox said making them both look at the rabbit on the stage “Huh? Oh I think he looks good” Bonnie shrugged putting his guitar on its stand “See? He gets it!” Chica said looking back at the fox “All he said was that Spring looked good! That didn’t confirm nothing!” While the Fox and the Chicken bickered back and forth Spring went back to the surveillance office to look at the monitors and outside camera’s.

So far there was nothing abnormal on the bad quality camera feed when suddenly Chica appeared in the office with something in her hands “Oh! Your uniform is missing the missing piece!” He turned to her as she came close and buttoned a white plastic name tag onto his uniform “There! Now you’re perfect” she said with a cheerfulness that they all needed, to get happy about the little things instead of focusing always on ones own problems “Thanks Chica” Spring said to her easily “Oh of course hung, just let me know if you need anything throughout the night, if you need to charge at all then I can take over looking at the camera’s for a bit” she offered since she really didn’t have anything better to do “I think I’ll be fine but I’ll take you up on that offer if I need that” after that Chica and Spring talked for a bit before the rabbit heard a noise and checked the camera to only see somebody just lock picked the front door and entered the building “Looks like we got one human, I can handle this” Chica looked surprised as she heard those words, Spring left the office and with ominous background lighting to aid him he met this intruder at a very specific location, the other bots had gone elsewhere to the point this person ended up near one of the staff only doors. Spring waved as he was finally noticed by the intruder, the dim lighting illuminated him from behind “Now your not supposed to be in here” Spring said staring this person down.

[nighterwriter]

Reservation

Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

Word Count: 1420

A/N: It's just something about the batboys forgetting important dates... some of my favorite things to read about.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alfred was used to Bruce's behavior. His son's stubbornness and determination to finish everything to the best of his abilities had frustrated him to no end, but he learned to adapt and found ways to make the man compromise whether he wanted to or not. The only instances in which the butler refused to entertain this behavior were when it negatively affected others. He understood the burden that came with being Batman, but he also knew that Bruce was smart enough to know when to take a break and make time for others. That was why he silently fumed while watching Oracle guide him through a building.

"Sir, I insist you wrap this investigation and table it for the morning."

Bruce grunted in protest and continued down the hallway. "There's been too many break-ins into this lab. I can't risk another one."

Alfred opened his mouth to counter, but Batman interrupted by asking Oracle to look through the camera feed. The butler inhaled sharply and checked his watch, shaking his head as he checked the time. He was late, an inexcusable amount. He had been told multiple times, made promises, and called off of work, but he still forgot. Alfred hoped he suffered enough for his head to finally screw on straight. He liked you. He found you pleasant and exciting, just the right mixture of witty and biting to keep the entire family on their toes while understanding their boundaries. And his heart sank at the realization that he might never be able to have another rousing conversation over tea because of his master's idiocy.

"She's gonna kill him," Barbara sighed, closing out of the camera feed and rubbing her face, "I hope she does."

"You know Master Bruce as well as I do, Miss Gordon. It takes more than death to change his mind."

````````````````

Bruce sighed as he pulled the cowl off his head. There was no evidence of another break-in nor any reasoning as to what someone would want to take from the laboratory. He'd need to figure that out tomorrow, but for now, all he wanted to do was wash the grime off of his body and go to sleep. Maybe call you, but he didn't want to wake you. He might stop by and bring lunch to your work.

The cave was empty save for Alfred who stood in the center with his arms behind his back. It was his usual stance, but there was more tension in his shoulders and his hands were tightly grasping each other.

"Was this expedition worth it, sir?" Bruce jerked his head back in confusion at the scathing but reserved tone in the butler's voice.

"Retracing the robber's steps might've given me a better perspective. I'll check the cowl tomorrow. Right now, I think it's safe to call it a night."

"And what of Y/N?"

Bruce frowned. "I'll call her in the morning."

Alfred closed his eyes and shook his head in frustration. "If I was her, there would be no call in the morning, I wouldn't want to waste any more of my time."

"Alfred, what're you going on about?"

"The date, Bruce, the date."

He hated to say it, but Alfred had some sort of enjoyment watching Bruce flit through his mental calendar, going day by day and sorting through his schedule before landing on today (better to call it yesterday.) The sheer satisfaction of watching his eyes widen in realization and hearing the loud expletives leaving his mouth as he shed the uniform and ran to change was unparalleled. Because no matter what bullshit he tried to pedal, Batman made Bruce selfish. He could explain the importance of Batman to Dick or Tim, but to you, someone who only knew him as billionaire Bruce Wayne, it would cause more trouble than necessary.

````````````````

The restaurant seemed closed except for the small portion of the seating area left lit. Bruce slid through the unlocked front doors with empty hands, the time almost being five in the morning and all the good flowers had been bought from the flower market. It wasn't hard to find you. You were in the middle of the restaurant nursing an unknown cocktail in one hand and scraping the remnants of dessert off of a plate with the other. You didn't bother looking up as Bruce approached, only scraping the fork down the plate once again, ruining the birthday message that had been scrawled with chocolate sauce.

"I'm surprised you remember the restaurant." Your voice was calm, which made the dread grow in Bruce's heart. "You can finish closing, Ralph. Sorry to make you stay this long."

The bus boy, presumably, stood in the doorway to the kitchen with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed. A friend, probably one that you made in the hours that you spent waiting for your boyfriend to show up to celebrate your birthday. He nodded and retreated to the kitchen.

You stood, brushing the crumbs off your dress before draining the last of your drink, making sure to push your chair in. You'd wasted the staff's time, smiling sheepishly when the waitress had come around, asking for the second person, trying not to cry as she brought a chocolate cake on the house after the hostess whispered the details of your reservation into her ear. You sat through pitiful stare after pitiful stare as patrons left the restaurant, all because Bruce fucking Wayne forgot it was your birthday. After clearing it with him, with his secretary, with Alfred, with any possible impediment, he still forgot. And after telling you how special you were to him and how much he cared about you, this is how he treated you. You could cry at home later, but right now, you refused to give him the satisfaction of thinking you actually cared.

"Y/N-"

"Don't," You hissed, the largest amount of emotion you'd chosen to spare him during his short time here, "Don't try to give me excuses. I cleared it with everyone, I put it on all of your fucking calendars and you still forgot. You won't come here looking like a kicked puppy as if you were the one left in a restaurant for hours, not having your calls and texts answered. What you will do is pay my bill and give every staff member, from the hostess to the bus boys, the largest tip they'll ever see in their life for having to put up with your absence."

"Let-"

"I'm not done. The minute I sit in the taxi, you're going to delete my number. You have no right to speak to me, look at me, even think about me. Do you understand?"

Bruce lowered his eyes when you stared at him with white-hot rage.

"Yes."

There was honking outside. You didn't care that Bruce followed you from the table to the sidewalk, you just wanted to get out of there. But you couldn't help yourself as you opened the taxi door. You turned to him.

"My birthday, Bruce, my birthday. Was it really that easy to forget?" Bruce started to crumble when your voice cracked as you tried to stop your lips from trembling, and he opened his mouth to speak, but you quickly sat in the car and closed the door, telling the driver to drive.

He watched the taxi until it turned the corner and he stood on the sidewalk until the restaurant lights shut and Ralph pushed into his shoulder as he walked towards his car. He fucked up, God, he fucked up and he didn't know if there would be a way to fix what he did. You don't deserve to be dragged through his bullshit, but he loved you. He loved you from the moment you stayed in the manor with the entire family while they battled through the stomach flu, not flinching or wrinkling your nose as you helped them through the weeklong scourge. But he didn't think there was a way to come back from what he did. It wouldn't be fair to you, nor would it be okay for him to think all he needed to do was give you some flowers and a kiss the next time he forgot.

As he stood on the approaching Gotham morning, plagued by his inability to move on the off chance you'd turn the corner and hear him out, Bruce Wayne realized just how selfish he was and just how badly he'd ruined his chances with the person he loved.

[arminsleftnut]

hi!! i’m so excited to see a blog that writes for death note, it’s become a recent hyperfixation of mine and i can’t find any good fics!!! 💗💗💗💗

could you provide some nsfw content for L? any is fine really, hc’s or a full drabble if you’d like!! i’m desperate for L content lol 💗💗

YES oh my god of course 💗💗 deathnote is one of mine too (i rewatch it like once a week) n L is my major comfort character. i did a kinda cross between a drabble and headcanons for this! I hope it’s what you were looking for <333

CONTENT WARNING: smut (MDNI, 18+), female-bodied reader (gender-neutral pronouns), fingering, begging, mild pain kink, overstimulation, L being .. himself and also mildly obsessive, voyeurism (read: L is a creep misa was right), slightest bit of dubcon if you squint, masturbation, pillow humping, dom!L and yes i will die on this hill, sub!reader, L is actually a little mean in this one, dacryphilia, thigh slapping, fluff at the end if you squint, let me know if i need to add more!

i.

being physically intimate with L was something you never really considered when you first got together. you weren’t even sure sex was something that was on his radar; he had so many other things to think about, and physical pleasure seemed like something he didn’t pay any mind to.

and you were right— for the most part. it’s not something L ever stops to consider. it’s not that he’s necessarily disinterested, it’s just never been a priority. he usually just takes care of himself when the urge arises.

with you here, though, it’s different. he’s not alone anymore, and your own desires are something he assumes he needs to factor in, and as many times as you assure him that it’s completely okay if he doesn’t want to have sex, that you can take care of it yourself and it’s a nonissue, he’s still . . . curious.

he’s seen you before on the monitors; those times late at night when everyone else has gone to bed and you forget there’s cameras everywhere, that he can see everything you do. he watches you as you’re spread out on the shared bed he rarely sleeps in, slipping your fingers in and out of your little cunt, your mewls and soft whines carrying through the speakers and shooting straight to his cock. he wonders if it’s wrong to watch you like this, but even as he ponders if misa amane was correct, that he is a pervert, he still doesn’t tear his gaze away from the screen. there is the possibility you hadn’t forgotten about the cameras at all. perhaps you wanted him to see.

he doesn’t say anything, less to save you any possible embarrassment and more because he’s found that a subject is least genuine when they know they’re being observed. it’s human nature, he knows, to alter yourself beneath the lens of others, to hide, and he doesn’t want that. this is a side of you he hadn’t considered might exist— an obvious oversight, and one he aims to correct.

that was how L always was. he loves you, yes, you can say that confidently. but as quiet and soft-handed a man as he is, his love is not simple, nor is it gentle. like him, it’s invasive and relentless. it’s not uncommon for you to feel somewhat neglected, or that perhaps he forgets about you altogether, but he never does. in fact, it’s quite the opposite. you are just as much a fixation, a complex puzzle to be torn apart and examined as any case, and rarely does a minute go by in which he doesn’t think of you. it’s perhaps not as romantic as you might like, with his owlish gaze pinned on you whether through a monitor or when you’re sitting next to him, picking apart every detail, but you can’t say he doesn’t pay attention to you. sometimes, you think he pays too much.

when he finally touches you, it’s no different.

he watched for weeks before he broached the idea. the hours you spent trying to satisfy yourself, with your hand between your legs or rutting desperately against a pillow— yet you never seemed truly satisfied. it was obvious in your expression, face screwed up cutely in obvious distress, frustrated tears welling in your eyes and streaking prettily down your flushed cheeks. you could only ever take two of your own fingers, he noticed; you’d tried more a few times, seeming to find your own two small ones dissatisfactory, but you could never quite make it, leaving you in a painful limbo that always has you in a particularly sour mood the next time he speaks with you.

the more he watched, the more he realized how truly unsatisfied you were. one night, you spent thirty minutes rocking against your pillow, and despite the wetness that darkened your pretty panties, you eventually gave up, tossing the ruined pillow away from you with a small, frustrated shriek. he wondered why; and more still, why he suddenly found his own hand unsatisfying, and why he could only curve his own thoughts with ones of you on the monitor, spread out prettily.

it was horribly distracting, really. and with anything else, L had to make sense of it.

in the end, he ends up with more questions than answers.

it’s not his fault, really. it’s yours. you’re so fascinating to study, and so eager to let him learn. you’d been so utterly pliant as he pried your thighs apart, stuttering out reassurances that he didn’t have to do this, asking over and over if he was sure. he doesn’t bother to tell you that this wasn’t for you— he wouldn’t be able to think properly until he’d gotten his answers.

there’s none of the awkward hesitation you might’ve expected, no unsure fumbling of hands or knocking teeth. no, L is sure of this as he is anything else he studies, tearing it apart as he sees fit until he’s satisfied with the conclusion. you’re no different, and he’s just as relentless as he always is.

there’s a certain desperate edge to it when he touches you, like he’s trying to tear everything from you by force. he watches you squirm beneath him, mewling and pleading incoherently as the walls of your pretty cunt spasm around his fingers for what feels like the thousandth time (it would seem you can, in fact, take three), and the only thing he can think of is how many more you’ll be able to give him. surely this isn’t your breaking point? no, he knows better, that can’t possibly be it. you can take more, and he tells you so, deafened to your mindless babbling and choked sobs as you try to push him away.

it’s strange that you do that. you get so upset when he actually does pull away:

he has to pin your hands down eventually; clawing at him the way you are is only a hindrance, and it reduces his overall effectiveness significantly. fortunately, you seem to learn quickly, responding especially well to a sharp slap to your inner thigh. (he isn’t sure if it’s a carrot or a stick, given the way you clench around his fingers when he does it. regardless, it works, so he does it again).

it really only occurs to him to stop when your body seizes again, this time falling entirely limp, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. he might’ve worried, but your eyes flutter open only a few seconds later, and it’s then that he considers that you might be rather exhausted.

“are you alright?” his voice is quiet, hoarser than normal, and uncharacteristically gentle. he cocks his head at you, the puppy-like gesture such a stark contrast to the delightful hell he was inflicting on you only moments before that you can’t help but giggle tiredly.

at your assurance that you aren’t on the verge of collapse, not anymore at least, he takes time to clean you up, his touch feather-light and familiar in its softness. he lets you cling to him, winding his awkwardly long body around you in a sort of cradle, tucking your head beneath his chin.

he counts the minutes until you fall asleep, measuring your breaths against his own. as much as he enjoys tearing you apart to see what’s inside, there’s a strange satisfaction in putting you back together again.

this is my first published smut i apologize in advance.

[youryanderedaddy]

I had a dream just now that might make a good story. So, I had a virus on my laptop which allowed a hacker to see everything I did on my computer and use my webcam. The hacker ends up falling in love with me after stalking me for a few months and pays for someone on the dark web to kidnap me. It works, and then I wake up tied up in the hacker's arm as he caresses and kisses me. That's pretty much it, good night! 🌙

Yo this is my kink 😳

Also I couldn't not write this for Saeran, ok.

Title: Stranger danger

Tw: nsfw - ish, female reader, masturbation, cyber stalking, hacking, mentions of dark web, very irresponsible online behavior, obsessive behavior, implied kidnapping

You knew that this was a stupid idea. Lurking on the dark web with almost no protection other than the Tor browser and some free anti-virus program wasn't your best decision, but fuck it if it wasn't entertaining. You had always been drawn to the darker, scarier part of the human mind and this side of the internet proved quite interesting. Your friends always warned you about the dangers that came with looking up shady online searches and sites but everything had been quite peaceful so far. There weren't hackers or murderers on the dark web, the worst you had seen were people selling drugs and weapons for unreasonable prices, along with some questionable fetish porn and the typical popping ads.

Your favorite thing to do while online was chatting. Two weeks ago you had stumbled upon an unusual forum called "Scream buddies" where upon entering you were automatically connected to another random profile. The whole theme of the forum was discussing horror and mondo movies, shockumentaries and overall creepy stuff, your forte. The person you met on there shared a similar fascination with all things dark and gory which soon made talking to them the only thing you were looking forward upon opening the site.

You didn't know much about the guy behind the profile yet, except that he was a young man. His icon showed an eye so green it emited with the neon pigment and his username was just as mysterious - BlueRose7. You enjoyed chatting with him about your hobby but the thing you liked the most was undressing him little by little, metaphorically so, by getting pieces of information about his life. It started small - his favorite food, favorite book, favorite game, but the moment you tried digging deeper and asked whether he had siblings or not, the man simply disappeared for the next few days. You quickly realized just what type of topics you needed to avoid to keep your new friend from leaving. Family, childhood memories and work matters were out of the picture.

The stranger wasn't fair, not really. He didn't show you vulnerability and kept his secrecy while demanding to know everything there was to know about you. For the longest time you didn't want to answer just to stay on a equal footing, just to show him how frustrating it was, but there was something about the man that drew you in. He was magnetic, clever and witty, if a bit pessimistic and dark at times. You couldn't help telling him everything he wanted to hear - what your job was, whether you were single or not, all that jazz. In your defense, BlueRose7 actually listened to your stories, took your problems seriously and provided solutions, which despite being too extreme and overprotective at times (upon hearing that your bestfriend talked behind your back he offered to "take care" of her), were comforting. It was nice to have someone caring around even if you met him on a sketchy website.

Meanwhile your personal life wasn't going too great. You had to balance between attending college, working long shifts as a waitress and meeting your friends from time to time which was draining. On top of all there was a weird virus on your computer which resulted in the camera turning on and off and the most random times of the day - while you were studying, watching TV, or in some cases, fully naked and ready to take a bath. You didn't think much of it though, with all the illegal movies and games you downloaded along with the dark web lurking it was more than expected for your laptop to behave weirdly. You didn't even mention it to your friend from the IT major because you knew that he'd force you to delete Tor and put an end to your internet adventures.

One time you were particularly bored after several long lectures and you were laying in bed, the camera turned on once again. It was a hot afternoon and you were wearing boyshorts and a loose T- shirt with nothing underneath it, you were home alone so there was no need. The bright red spot was twinking like a recorder, the light reflecting in your eyes, when a silly little idea came to your mind. You slid your hand under your blouse and lifted the fabric up, exposing your breasts to the laptop, your nipples hardening due to the sudden coldness, becoming pink and stiff in seconds. You played with for a few minutes, pinching and pulling the buds gently, moaning softly into the pleasant sensation. Soon you could feel yourself getting wet, and slowly, teasingly, removed your shorts and panties. You smiled at the camera, biting your lip provocatively, imagining you were a camgirl performing for her desperate little fanboys and fangirls. The thought alone was enough to make you spread your legs wide and slip two fingers into your throbbing cunt, using the wetness to push deeper. You used your other hand to stroke your clit and whimpered wantonly, your face red, your neck sweaty and your heart pumping fast from the adrenaline. You were quickly reaching your orgasm and your mind wondered to the boy you were talking to in the forum. You wondered how he looked like, how his body was built, whether he was a sweet sensual lover or a rough mean one. Fucked up as it was, you pictured the man as one of your most loyal viewers, watching all of your streams with a fist around his thick vock and an excited grin on his face. He would comment things like "you look so beautiful like this" or perhaps even "pretty little slut" after tipping you enough to last you a week. Soon all the mental stimulation sent you over the edge and you came with a loud cry full of pleasure. Well, this felt good.

After your "performance" was over the camera was magically turned off, which may have caused some concerns if you weren't too busy feeling embarrassed and dirty about the unhinged fantasy you had just had, and with a person you knew nothing about. You managed to calm down though - it wasn't nothing more than a fun pastime, a naughty thought that would never become the reality. You would never actually meet BlueRose7, right? There was nothing to worry about, so you just went on with your day.

You had some dinner afterwards and decided to have an early night as you already felt full and tired. You put on your favoruite pajamas and laid in bed, staring at the ceiling until you fell into deep dreamless sleep.

You woke up due to a weird noise. You could hear someone's heavy breathing right next to your ear, someone's grabby hands were wrapped tightly against your body, trapping you between the wall and their hard chest. You had only a few seconds to scream before the intruder's palm covered your mouth.

"Shhh." The man whispered softly and stroked your hair like you were a doll he was playing with. "Don't scream or I'll be forced to hurt you, flower. I have a gun." His voice sounded deep and rough but this didn't stop you from thrashing and turning on your side until you came face to face with the man. It was dark in the room and you couldn't exactly see all his features but his enchanting green eyes would forever be burned into your memory - they seemed dashing, hypnotizing. You couldn't utter a word.

"It's me, the person you've been talking to all these months. I came to take you home" He spoke out suddenly, the line of his mouth twisting into a smile or a smirk, you couldn't quite tell. You shook your head no, tears threatening to spill all over your cheeks from the fear. It couldn't be him, the man would never do that to you. Or would he? With what little information you knew, you couldn't really tell. His hold finally loosen, seeing you quiet like that.

"Let me go, please." You begged, pushing at his shoulders weakly since you were still sleepy, groggy and tired. "I don't know you." You said, hoping this would remind the stranger you weren't friends, lovers or anything that gave him the right to be so close to you, to touch you so intimately. Unfortunately, this only seemed to amuse him and he chucked darkly as he pulled your hair away to place a small chaste kiss on your neck.

"But I know you, flower." Your supposed online friend replied shortly after, his eyes full of malice. "And your little show today makes me think you want to know me too." He added in a low tone, licking his lips before smashing them on yours, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth just to hear your whines and protests. Then it hit you. The camera, the virus, the questions. He had watched you, he knew where you worked, where you lived and studied, everything. You had told him after all.

The hacker thought you looked so adorable right now, figuring things out, helpless, confused, regretful and most of all, weak. You were so weak and careless, and he loved you for it. It reminded him of himself before life screwed him over.

You wouldn't be in this position, underneath him, if you had just told someone about your laptop virus and the bad guy you had encountered online. But Saeran couldn't say he wasn't glad your self-preservation instincts were so very broken and dysfunctional. He wouldn't meet you otherwise. "I need you, princess. That's why I'll take you to Paradise." These were the final words you heard before you felt lightheaded and sleepy again, your last memory a pair of green mint eyes.

You really shouldn't have trusted strangers on the internet.

[stray-kids-react]

02 liner aussie girl joining the group

Masterlist

...

Bang Chan

° Sees you as a little sister, and will baby you nonstop for that reason alone. Expect very long hugs and him trying to beg you for some affection.

° Let Felix take charge in helping you around JYP, watching from afar like a proud father. Even if you aren't much younger than the members, he can't help but become a giddy mess when you literally do anything.

° Since he sees you as a little sister, that also means he is very protective over you. Not even Minho can tease you for too long without Chan becoming a bit tense. He just doesn't want you to ever feel uncomfortable.

° Does many vlives with you, chatting about your life and what parts of Australia you grew up in. Whenever he is introducing you or if you call him during a vlive, he'll call you little sissy.

° Many stays have made edits of Chan babying you or treating you like a literal angel, you both have watched edits like these and neither of you can deny that he doesn't do either of those things.

"My little sissy y/n did great today in our dance practice, isn't that right sissy?" he asked, sitting you on his lap.

"Yeah, Minho Oppa helped me learn quite a bit. But I couldn't have succeeded it without my personal cheerleader Chris." You replied.

Lee Know

° Doesn't make a huge deal out of it, is honestly just really happy to have a new member. He doesn't care that your a girl or a fellow aussie, just sees you as a member.

° If you are ever struggling with Korean he'll do his best to try and help you, even if it is only on small thing such as the way you pronounce words. He admits to finding your struggles pretty adorable.

° Even though he is a huge tease, he'll go easy on you for the first two months. Letting you get settled in and get use to the chaotic behavior of all of them. But after those months pass, he'll start to tease.

° Minho likes to challenge you to dance battles during practice, seeing if you will ever beat him on one. But luckily whenever Snsd comes on you are in your element, showing him the true Gee master.

° Minho has a soft spot fro you due toy your age, he won't tease you too harshly and won't get mad if you don't remember one of his cat's names. All of the members notice his new soft spot for you.

"So I know Soonie, Doongie... And?" you sighed, trying to remember the third cat of Minho's.

"Dori, it's okay. At least you remembered two of them." He reassured, Felix looking at him with shock from across the room.

Changbin

°When he heard that you would be joining the group, he hoped that you wouldn't make fun of him as much as the other members. And if you did, it wouldn't be too harsh.

° Appreciated that you weren't teasing him 24/7, and if you are shorter than him then he would be very smiley and giddy for days. Changbin likes your company and would often want to hang around you.

° Buys you coffee/tea every morning, and only you (occasionally Felix). And when the members ask, he explains that you earned your coffee/tea by not teasing him. Even if they haven't teased him for days.

° You are his favorite member, even if he won't admit it... Everyone knows it. You are his best friend and he doesn't want that relationship to change. Unlike the fan's pov, he sees you only as a best friend.

° Whenever he does a vlive with you, your ship name is all over the chat. Neither of you speak out about it, but both of you don't like each other in that way. And it makes situations awkward when they ship you two.

"I can't believe we're a ship, that is so weird to me." You chuckled, scrolling through Instagram on your phone.

"I know right! I don't get why a girl and a guy can't be friends without people shipping them." He sighed, clearly frustrated.

Hyunjin

° Becomes putty in your hands, he just finds everything about you adorable. It also doesn't help that you are Australian, which he happens to have an interest in.

° He wouldn't describe his feelings towards you as a crush, more as a little sister and der brother relationship. He would feel weird if you ever developed something for him, since he is too close to you to be a couple.

° Very clingy towards you, constantly draping himself across you. Or sitting you on his lap when you are worn out from practice, he often let's you take naps on him. He also treats you to sweets, even when on diets.

° Hyunjin once got frustrated over how JYP was treating you, giving you an extreme diet even though you were already working hard enough. So he'd reassure you that him and Chan would talk with JYP about it.

° Hyunjin can be seen copying your accent, whether it be for fun or just to tease you. He'll copy or pick up on your accent, many fan's hearts melting at his determination to be part of the aussie line.

"I shouldn't be having this cupcake." You sighed, placing the cupcake you've been eyeing for the past few minutes.

"Screw JYP, eat what you want. You are your own person and shouldn't listen to some old man." He defended, passing the cupcake.

Han

° Was the first member you met, even though it was by total accident. You both ran into each other when he was leaving the building and you were entering.

° You dropped the coffee all onto yourself in shock, making him chuckle as he tried to help you clean yourself up. He helped you into JYP, having no clue that you are going to be the new member joining.

° When Chan introduced you to the members the next day, Han was shocked. He was surprised to see a familiar face, but was also pleased knowing you seemed to be quite a sweet and charming person.

° You both are the stars whenever on reality shows together, many seeing you both as a chaotic duo. Doni and Coni once tried to correct you, telling you that women shouldn't be so hyper. Han got pissed.

° Not only did Han correct them on their manners, but also told them that a man shouldn't tell a woman what to do. Many fans and netizens applauded him for protecting his new and sweet Maknae.

"I swear those guys get on my nerves sometimes, don't listen to them." He sighed, patting your head softly.

"It's okay Hannie, I'm glad that I have some older brothers to stand up for me." You reassured, melting his heart.

Felix

° You are nervous to be around Felix, not because he's intimidating or harsh. But because he is so nice and angelic, and you don't want to develop a crush on a member.

° Even if you don't see him in that light at first, it will happen eventually because he has such an addicting energy that surround him. Felix is a sunshine, and it isn't hard to see why everyone loves him.

° Felix wants to make you feel as comfortable as possible, usually being the member picking up pads/tampons for you. He secretly develops a small crush on you, but he knows it would end up bad.

° You both would be worried about it ending bad due to the popularity of the band, Felix's popularity, your new career, and JYP's strict rules. So both of you don't truly progress that side of your relationship.

° It could blossom into something more serious in the future, but for right now it is just a mutual crush that both of you must hide. Your friendship is still very strong nonetheless, and you appreciate that.

"Okay here's a hard question, Back Door or All In?" you asked, as the managers watched you both from behind the camera.

"Neither because you aren't in them." He answered, trying to play it off as playful more so than flirtatious.

Seungmin

° Seungmin is your dorm mate, who always manages to make your nights more calm. He reassures you every night that you are doing great, even if you don't believe him.

° You both wrote down a schedule for dishes, laundry, cooking ect. The only exceptions to it is having a terrible day, birthday, or being sick. Either than that then you must follow the schedule stuck into the fridge.

° You both have derpy photos of each other as your wallpapers, both being taken when both of you just woke up. Seungmin can't help but giggle silently whenever he opens up his phone, looking at your bed head.

° Seungmin helps you out with waking up, letting you get use to the schedule of being an idol. Taking as many pillows to the face as he needs to for you to finally wake up, Once getting feathers in his hair due to it.

° Many think you both knew each other before you became a member, but you both explained that you just understand each other well and clicked when you met. Neither of you grew up together.

"Is today you dish day or mine?" he asked, bottle of soap already in his hand ready to begin cleaning.

"Mine, but I had a terrible day today. JYP critiqued everything about me." You huffed, getting a soft hug from Seungmin.

Jeongin

° Is glad he won't be babied as much since he isn't the maknae anymore, but will miss the benefits of being able to aegyo your way out of responsibilities.

° All of the members call you the babies or the baby line, even if either of you ar taller than some of them. Jeongin is also appreciative that he now has someone to relate to with being a babied quite often.

° He'll still call you noona just to get under your skin, but you honestly don't mind being called noona or unnie. Especially since some stays are younger than you, but you can become playfully annoyed at times.

° Jeongin will warm up to you very fast and treat you like a sister, he'll spoil you with stuffies and share his food with you every meal. Even though mama gets scold him for it, he doesn't care and continues to do it.

° Chan will cover both of your eyes when the members do something sexy, even if you kind of want to see it (mostly to tease them). But you understand why, since both fo you will get flustered by it easily.

"Y/n noona likes to steal my food sometimes." Jeongin admitted to fans, smiling at your playful glare.

"You share your food and insist I eat it Jeongin Oppa." You defend, watching the fans respond to the situation.

[redorich]

Out of This World

Niki watches despairingly as her new roommate, one Mr. Wilbur Soot, once again pours water into his cereal. He seems to prefer it that way; Niki can’t help but wonder, not for the first time, whether her roommate is a literal alien from outer space, or just the weirdest motherfucker she’s ever met.

What kind of a last name is Soot, anyway? She thinks to herself unkindly. At least he doesn’t leave dirty clothes on the floor for her to clean up like her last roommate did. But seriously, Niki can’t tell if this man is a crackhead or not.

“Niki, can you pass the salt?” Wilbur says, breaking her out of her reverie. Without thinking, she plucks it from the lowest shelf of the tiny kitchen cabinet and hands it to him. She regrets it instantly when he begins to salt his cereal.

Breathing deeply so as not to grab him by his bony shoulders and shout, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”, she flees the scene of the food crime. When Niki was in college, she was surrounded by people who asserted they had the world figured out. Atoms and gravity and wavelengths. But Niki knows that humanity is desperate to control the uncontrollable, define that which cannot be explained. Science, Niki knows, isn’t just throwing out what doesn’t fit, but rather taking all the data and asking the question, “Why?” So, she thinks, let’s consider the data. 

-------

Niki sneaks trepidatiously to the door to Wilbur’s bedroom. Who knows what sort of unholy, confusing mess he’s got in there, lurking in wait for its next unsuspecting victim. A pinch of guilt hits her. Yeah, Wilbur may be a lunatic, but an alien? Really? It’s a bit uncharitable of her to think such a thing. Shaking herself, she knocks on the door.

“Yes?” Wilbur’s voice carries from inside the room. “Come in.”

Steeling herself, she turns the doorknob with a sweaty palm and is faced with…

A bed. A desk with a computer on it. Two pairs of shoes lined neatly near the closet. Wilbur is taking off his headphones-- he was playing Minecraft. How… ordinary of him.

“Hi, Wilbur. Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted, uh, to see how you were settling in.”

Wilbur smiles his pretty smile. “Thank you. Quite unaccustomed am I to the comforts of-- apartments.”

What Yoda-ass kind of phrasing is that? Niki thinks. A figurine of the marshmallow man from Ghostbusters stares her down from its place on Wilbur’s desk. She meets its eyes warily.

“Oh! Noticed my Ghostbusters statuette, have you?” Wilbur says brightly. “I have more in my closet, if you should like to see them.”

Niki is filled with a sick sense of curiosity. Yes, she wants to see whatever insane thing Wilbur hides in his closet, but she also doesn’t. She idly wonders if Wilbur has ever read The Cask of Amontillado. She feels like he has. This is not comforting.

Wilbur doesn’t sense her hesitation. A small corner of her brain thinks it’s because he’s unfamiliar with human body language. Without pause, Wilbur opens the closet door, revealing…

Niki’s first thought is, where does he keep his clothes? Because the closet is filled with Ghostbusters paraphernalia. The entire. Fucking. Closet. It wasn’t even that great of a movie?? How much did Wilbur spend on this, anyway?

Her roommate misinterprets her blank uncomprehending stare as a marveling gaze. He puffs up proudly.

“Such a profound impact have these movies made! I am truly fortunate to have met a lass of such upstanding artistic caliber, that you should also enjoy the Ghostbusters franchise.”

“Thank you for showing me this,” she says slowly. “I need to-- water the dog. I mean, I left the stove on. At my friend’s house. Uh, see you later.”

She beats a hasty retreat, leaving her apartment for Eret’s place. Something whispers in the depths of her mind: Doesn’t one of the Ghostbusters movies have aliens in it?

-------

Orange is her favorite nail polish color. Eret paints the nails on her right hand in that soft warm shade of orange as he listens to her complain.

“Am I being irrational? Like, do you think I’m going too far?” 

Eret hums noncommittally, putting a little flamingo sticker on her index nail. “He does sound like an unusual person, but I don’t know if I would say he’s an alien.” 

Niki nods her head, since she can’t gesture with her hands. “Okay, yeah, sure-- but he puts salt in his cereal with water. He has a literal dragon’s hoard of memorabilia from shitty movies that came out like three decades ago. And his vibe is just...off. Like when I talk to him, he’s there, but his head’s drifting off somewhere in outer space. God, I’m the worst.”

Eret protests. “Hey, hey, you’re not the worst. Look. I don’t know why this dude is bugging you out so much, but you said he didn’t seem dangerous, right?”

Niki nods dejectedly.

“So, we can figure this out together,” Eret says with a flourish, screwing the top back onto the bottle of polish.

The tender moment is interrupted by Niki’s ringtone. It’s from Wilbur; speak of the devil and he shall appear. Gingerly, so as not to ruin the wet paint on her nails, she picks up the phone and puts it on speaker. “Hello?” she says, motioning for Eret to remain quiet.

“Ahoy, Niki! Wherefore are mine frog legs gone?”

“What?” Eret mouths at her. Niki doesn’t understand either.

“Sorry, Wilbur, what was that?”

“My frog legs,” comes the crackly timbre of a phone in an area with poor reception. “They are no longer in the refrigerator.”

Niki sputters. “Why did you have frog legs in the-- no, never mind. I don’t know what happened to your frog legs, Wilbur.”

The phone line repeats static to her for a moment as Wilbur pauses. “Interesting. Perhaps they walked away, as legs are so oft wont to do. Niki, would you mind dearly to purchase some more? And perhaps, be you willing, some condensed milk?”

Eret silently gags at the idea of frog legs and condensed milk together. Niki doesn’t blame him.

“Okay,” Niki says. 

Eret shakes his head at her, as though begging her not to torture herself like this. The moment Niki hangs up, the first words out of Eret’s mouth are, “That man is one hundred percent an alien. I am so sorry I ever doubted you.”

-------

With frog legs, condensed milk, and an Eret in tow, Niki enters her apartment the following morning with new-found assurance. The rest of the evening goes about as normal as it can, with Wilbur humming nursery rhymes and stirring a pot of, quite frankly, poison. Niki and Eret hide in the living room watching all the Ghibli movies until the only light left comes from the TV in front of them. The front door opens and the floors creak as Will enters. I thought he was in his room?

Eret seems to be on the same page as her. “I didn’t hear him leave,” he says, distant fear in his eyes.

Niki’s ears pick up a faint sound. “Shh!” she hisses. “He’s on the phone.”

Though the apartment is dark (the only light being the TV), Wilbur’s eyes glow like an animal caught on camera. Niki shivers. She only barely catches a glimpse before he ducks back into the entrance hallway, but what she sees unnerves her.

“Philza, calm down,” Wilbur says from the hallway as he takes off his shoes. “It is fine, she suspects not.” 

A pause. The other person on the line, Philza, is talking. 

Wilbur replies, “She was impressed with my Ghostbusters collection, you know-- Ghostbusters is a great movie, fuck off!”

Another pause. Wilbur sighs.

“Aye, I must admit you may have been right on that one. Pretending to be human is--”

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!”

Wilbur’s head peers around the hallway’s corner in a panic to see Niki and Eret. Niki is pointing her finger at Wilbur with pride on her face, and Eret looks as though he wants to be doing the same thing.

The two in the living room both flush a bit at the outburst, but Niki doggedly continues. “You’re an alien!”

Even though Wilbur’s phone isn’t on speaker, Niki and Eret hear Philza’s laughter from all the way across the room. Wilbur sputters and angrily hangs up the phone, before turning the corner to properly face the two humans. His eyes are actually glowing, it wasn’t a trick of the light, Eret observes. Of course, he also notes that Wilbur’s eyes are the size of dinner plates, and he looks about ready to jump out the window to run from them.

“I am… not an alien,” Wilbur says softly.

“Wh-- but you just said--” Eret says, then cuts himself off when Wilbur phases through the fucking floor.

“He’s a ghost,” Niki whispers, all the pieces clicking into place. Old English, weird taste in food, Ghostbusters are you kidding me. If Niki didn’t just watch her roommate evaporate, she’d be banging her head against a wall and asking her professors to revoke her degree.

Wilbur phases back up through the floor, much closer this time but still hesitant. He sits down a few feet away from the pair of humans nervously. He’s more afraid of us than we are of him, Niki thinks. Like the bears at the zoo.

“For many years, observed the living have I,” Wilbur begins slowly. “I wished to commune with them once again, as one of their own. My father-- Philza-- said unto me that I knew nothing of the modern era. I confess that he was right. Willst you cast me out of your home, knowing now of the spectre that I am?”

Niki tries and fails to suppress the amused quirk of her eyebrow. “How about this: Eret and I show you the ropes of being alive in the 21st century, and in return, you keep the frog legs on your side of the fridge?”

Wilbur smiles that pretty smile again. “Deal.”

-------

“Niki? What is an OnlyFans?”

FIN

[sorenskyhigh]

How the Haikyuu boys would get their s/o out of their zoom meetings (for example, pretending that they are getting kidnapped and getting dragged off screen) My sister did this before and my teacher was cracking up. THANK YOU BEST FRIEND :)

YES! I love this! Imagine if they took you on a sweet little date afterwards and you both just mess around all day!!! o(≧∇≦o) and thank you so much for supporting me!!!!!

Also I want to apologize for not writing anything, there's been a lot going on and I've just had no will to do anything ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚

Includes Daichi Sawamura, Koushi Sugawara, Asahi Azumane, Yū Nishinoya, Tetsurou Kuroo, Kenma Kozume, Toru Oikawa, Hajime Iwaizumi, Koutaro Bokuto, Keiji Akaashi, and Satori Tendou

Not proof read

Getting You Out Of Zoom Class

Daichi Sawamura

Daichi may end up being a cop and he may seem like a stickler for the rules, but........

He is super smart

And I definitely wouldn't put it past him to break some rules here and there

Daichi knows you hate the particular class that you're sitting through right now

The teacher was an ass and the class was just not your forte

Daichi was sitting just out of shot and you angrily scribbled down notes. You knew you could lie and make excuses for why you didn't do the work but, your conscious just wouldn't allow you.

Every once in awhile Daichi would reach out a soothing hand under the table and rub his thumb a couple times over your knee to sooth you.

At one point Daichi got up and just stood there for a second.

He intook a large breath before picking you up out of the chair and swinging you over his shoulder.

Hus face appeared in your camera and he just smiled wide and said, "Sorry, they've got something more important to do."

With that he left, not even bothering to turn off anything before he walked out to the kitchen with you and started making a lunch for you two.

Koushi Sugawara

We all love our chaotic Sugamama

Suga though isn't exactly theatrical person

What he would do would be simple and easy but very effective

Koushi was in your kitchen making a cute little brunch for the two of you. He had set everything up in your living room.

Nice, comfy nest on the floor, open windows, a short table to set everything on.

You had been particularly stressed since you had had to start online classes. A lot of people could learn this way, but, you just couldn't

You were busy working and didn't notice when your feed cut out and froze then turned off.

He had asked Yamaguchi what he could do since Yamaguchi was surprisingly good with electronics.

He had gotten into your account and was messing with it. Somehow, since a computer and and his laptop were trying to use it at the same time it genuinely messed it up but that was a worry for later.

"Awww c'mon!" You said before you screamed in surprise.

Koushi had popped up from under your desk,"I think you need a break."

Asahi Azumane

Asahi is a super nervous guy, we been knew

But when he saw just how stressed his little baby was over your online classes

You were sitting in your living room on the floor, all your stuff spread out. You looked like you were spread so thin as you tried to keep up.

Suddenly your front door slammed open and big guy in a mask came in and snatched you up and took you outside after shutting your door.

You were of course until you got outside then you both started laughing.

Asahi had gone over this with you many many many times es just to make sure you were okay with it.

Aftwards he also kept worrying over you on whether he hurt you or not.

Nishinoya Yū

You know this boy would go all out for this

As loud and wild as he can make it

Yū had decided to be as obnoxious as possible. It was simple, yet highly effective.

Not only did you have to turn off your mic but your teacher asked you to turn off your camera as well.

Yū wasn't just a auditory nuisance but a visual one as well.

As long as he could be seen or heard he would either be being a pest or too funny for anyone to concentrate.

After your teacher had asked you to cut off your sound and camera you both obviously left.

Yū wanted to go and eat your entire fridge while you watch horror movies.

Tetsurou Kuroo

You know this man would bring in straight facts

He would cut down any of your teacher/professors excuses as to why you had to stay

"Too much time on a computer, phone or TV screen can cause serious retinal damage. If they can't see then they can't do the work you want them too. Life would be so much harder for them if they lost their sight."

With that he hurriedly turned off your computer and rushed you out of there so you guys could hang out and watch probably an animal science documentary.

Kenma Kozume

You know this boy is tech proficient

He would have your computer so screwed

Why even try

You go to get into your class but the potato filter is on and you can't fix it.

Your teacher is angry at you bc 'you're young and apart of the generation that grew up with this technology so figure it out and blah blah blah.

You're struggling so with the sound, you sound like you had just sucked on a can of helium.

Then the loud celebratory noise emitting from your computer and an all too familiar voice came over and said, " Not today, pudding." Then your entire computer "crashed".

Kenma entered the room very queitly as you sat there.

"It's not broken. But if you don’t play video games with me I won't fix it."

Toru Oikawa

This twink ass drama queen

I pity whoever dates this man if you have to take zoom classes

You know he would be super dramatic about it

You're sitting at your chair and are dutifully taking notes when your bedroom door is flung open.

There stands Toru.

His hands are on his hips and he's pulling his little pouty face.

"Now, little cutie. You have been ignoring me for weeks."

You look at him as if he had lost his mind. You just talked to him this morning.

"If I didn't know ow any better I'd say you had the hots for someone in that class!" He was slowly raising his voice.

"I thought we were happy?! I love you and I wanted to marry you."

Disconnected

After he had unplugged you're entire computer he giggled and kissed you, "Sorry little cutie, I just hate to see you so stressed from those stupid classes."

Hajime Iwaizumi

He gets enough drama from Shittykawa

So he's not going to create any of his own if he can help it

But he did think that video of someone "kidnapping" their friend was pretty funny

You were in the kitchen with a glass of water when Hajime very quietly came in. You had just baby heard your front door close.

He held his finger up to his mouth and pulled a bandana up over his mouth.

He skillfully it over him since this wouldn't be the first time you had had distractions from your friends during class.

You were curious about what he was doing.

Then all of a sudden you were grabbed from the side, the stool falling over as Hajime shut your laptop.

He carried you outside where Shittykawa, Mattsun, and Maki were waiting.

"No more classes for today."

"Yeah you get to have just so much fun with us," Maki said sarcastically.

Koutaro Bokuto

This man

This MAN

I love him to death but not only would he get the entire team in on it but he would screw it up somehow

You were on your bed with your laptop on a blanket in front of you as you listen to your teacher drone on and on and on.

Then you shrieked when your bedroom door was thrown open and three fairly big guys came rushing in.

Naturally you screamed in fear.

Koutaro was the one carrying you as the Konoha turned off your laptop and Akaashi stood there. He was so not with this.

The thing is, Koutaro didn't tell you on purpose so your reaction would be genuine enough to fool your class.

He got you so upset that Akaashi, Konoha, Anohori, Komi, Onaga, Sarukui, and even Washio were chastising him for it.

They weren't having his dumb shit today, no sir.

He made it up to you though, so did the rest of the team.

Keiji Akaashi

After dealing with Bokuto for what felt like a lifetime

He wanted to keep things simple and easy

Akaashi had just walked into your room while you were sitting at your desk.

He had pushed your chair out of the way and simple turned everything off. Saving any documents you may or may not have had open first of course.

Then he took your hand and he took you to a nice and quiet Cafe where you guys spent the rest of the day.

Satori Tendo

Itcha miracle boi

You know that when he starts to make you leave ethe teacher say soemthing he will fight them ლ(ಠ益ಠ)ლ

He's ready to dish it out

Straight up insults them

You were sitting in bed with your laptop while Satpri was sprawled across your lap.

He hadn't disturbed doubt thus far. He was actually being very well behaved.

Thankfully with how you and your laptop set up, no one saw him chillin' like a villain in your lap.

That is until he groaned and started to whine about how boring it was.

Your teacher addresses you and scolds you for having Satoir there.

"Why, it's not like I'm distracting you. You're not doing anything anyways. Let's leave, my Paradise."

After that Satori had a long argument with your teacher, your teacher very clearly losing. More than half your class was losing it at this point.

"Look, you abarrent brat,'" thats when you got mad.

"Excuse me? What did you just call him??!!" You slammed your laptop shut after that.

@kneecapstealingalien @multifandombrainrot @vaniatslover @popcorntime-doodles @i-need-coffee-now-pls @jiheonity @shadowsbutdead @goshikisimp @anothershadeofpink @mestayanon @ghostexhibit @smallmangi @thatfunnysprout @backalley-astrologer @itsallgonnabokayihope @g00s3 @boreateo @all-around-fandoms31 @weareallhumans123 @lil-mellow-bunbun @strawberrymakki @beelziee @mehreenackerman @taiyahhh @sakusasgerm @cr4z3d-cl0wn @detective-bakugou @mainnews32 @turtletris2tumble @oshun22 @syirahtorizawa @wouldsimply31

[igotanna]

Heyy bb!! I hope you're taking care of yourself and aren't too busy🥰 So I thought of this and I wanted to ask if you could this: GOT7 reaction to dating someone who is very polished and polite (elegant even) in public but is very adorable and rambly when they're alone together. Do it only if you're free and willing, no pressure love💜

Ah honey thank you so much for this request! I know it took me looong but I really enjoyed it (also appreciate the open hand date tysm)💚💚 it was refreshing ~ also I hope I maintained to stay on topic bc this was a bit tricky😅 if not then sorry for that🙏

Mark

“MaRk!” you cried out of your bedroom with the highest level of despair.

“Yeah!” sounded Mark from the other room, not shortly after looking at you, standing on the doorstep.

“I can’t find my purse,” you pouted and threw another pillow on the floor hoping your tonight purse is hidding between the sheets.

Mark chuckled and shrugged, sat down on the bed you were currently digging a hole into.

“What are you laughing at? This isn’t funny!” your voice got all lost between the blankets and pillows. Mark laughed and pointed down under your vanity table “Did you tried to look there?”

As soon as you endend another episode of Mark’s fav series - you searching for your lost things - you headed to the award night. In the car with two of other members you kept the conversation floating nicely and maintained all glossy, Mark had to laugh as he just remembered how you looked few minutes ago.

“What is so funny?” Bambam noticed his amusement. Mark shook his head and held your hand tighter “I remembered something.”

You felt he’s implying to you and you turned your head to face him, raising your eyebrow.

“Nevermind.”

Bambam and Youngjae wouldn’t leave him get off that easily but they had to get out of the car. Just before it was your turn you faced him again “What was that?”

“Oh nothing,” a soft apologetic kiss on your cheek “You just give so mature and even bossy vibe when we’re out, but when I shut the door at home, you-”

“I turn into a child??”

“You turn into the most adorable lost sweetheart I saw.”

JB

You knew JB sometimes doesn’t know what he wants himself. You got used to that sometimes he prefers you as elegant powerful woman, and sometimes he wanted to be the one seen and he wanted you to back a little. You had to learn when to do what.

After one night on public, just after you kicked of your high heels, high enough to see top of JB’s head, he leaned on the door and asked very random question “Where is this two sidedness coming from?”

You just put down your earrings from which your head was aching and turned to him “What do you mean?”

JB kept observing you like it’s the first time actually seeing you.

“What?!” you incited him with shaky voice. You felt like he was reading your mind. When he didn’t answer at once you sighed and turned back at him, starting to unzipp your dress as you made your way to the bathroom.

After a while he came in to lean on the doorframe and watch you getting ready to go shower.

“Can you just pretend we’re not alone?” his voice was at least disturbing.

You shook your head “I’m really tired - can you talk normally?”

“I wanna see your lady self.”

You blinked and got to the shower, giving him blank looks through the glass.

He changed position to see your face better and played with the hem of dress you left on the basin. A thought came on your mind that maybe he’s preparing to say something he’d never say out loud because he thinks you can’t hear him through the splashing water. His voice was low and he sighed a little like he was picking up courage. A nervousness poured you over with cold sweat.

“You...’ve got such a presence.. and power.... and beauty...I never told you... how proud I feel...when we’re on public and you’re so.. impressive.” and he gave you surprisingly long look “I just wish you’d sometimes be your lady-self before me as well so I know ‘m also worth your effort.” how he paused between the words and barely looked at you when he talked you knew he meant every line. And your heart dropped as you felt his emotions through his hesitating voice. He thought he’s not worth the effort!

You turned the water off and looked at him properly, this time with the softest look “Babe I thought you wanted me to be like that on public. I  did always what I thought you needed at that time.”

“Come here,” he pleaded with cracked voice so quiet and tender eyes. His hands were opening to you like a invitation for the warmest hug ever.

JACKSON

“...and so when I got there I drank all his coffee by mistake!”

“By mistake? Jacks how can you drink somebody’s coffee by mistake?!” you cried with laughter. Actually you were rolling on the sofa laughing your ass off because Jackson was just finnishing his story from the other day.

Jackson was maintaining his poker face, but corners of his lips were dancing zumba. He always got so happy when he saw you enjoying his stories and jokes. Ofc you were all about his stupid sense of humour.

That stands until you both are facing cameras, reporters or other celebs. Jackson was still the same, throwing jokes, unrequiered stories and weird looks to make someone laugh. But he gave up on making you laugh on public long ago.

“Why aren’t you laughing was it not funny?” he asked the first time you gave him bitch face on public. You shook your head and because knowing others can hear you shrugged “Maybe next time.”

He got used to that when he makes joke on public you are far from amused and he has to earn your attention. He called it your “jinyoung time” with the distinction you actually never cracked once you decided to be your sassy self.

Jinyoung himself sometimes even praised you for being so calm with Jackson on public (he didn’t know how you were really loosing your shit when you’re alone).

“Stop that Jinyoung crap now I really need a support tonight, please?” Jackson squeezed your hand while you got out of the car. You knew this time he has no friends around since it’s foreign music festival and he is insecure af. You pecked his cheek “Okay maybe you’ll make me laugh today.”

JINYOUNG

“Okayy soo.. I guess Bahamas??” your face went from nervous to quizzical. Planning holiday was on you and Jinyoung got specific reason for that. He loved how hesitant and insecure you were given that big task. It was funny watching you wandering finger on the map in front of you and not being able to make a firm decision.

“Oh I don’t knoooow,” you cried and rubbed your forhead.

“Do you want to go and have some sun or not?” he tried to help but held back laughter. He knew it’s not going to be any help.

You threw hands “I want both! I want to sunbathe and swim but I know I get fed up with heath after few days so unless you want to fly around the Earth with me for the whole 3 weeks I suggest you to YOU choose the destination.”

“Oh nono no you’re not making your way out of this. We agreed.” he gave his  uncompromising serious face and pointed at the map you were leaning away from “Go on.”

“Oh screw it.” you closed your eyes and randomly stick your index finger on the map “MADAGASCAR!”

Jinyoung held this memory before his eyes the whole family dinner you were currently having with his family.

As all of them were admiring his girlfriend’s determined spirit. His mum was asking you what are your plans for future after you finnish your post graduate. He held his breath as you gave her detailed plan you were obviously making up on place. He knew very well you have no plans bc the same question by him was unanswered the day before. Next his father praised you for being so sure of your steps in life and asked whether you’ve always been so sure and mature.

Jinyoung didn’t held it this time and burst out with laughter he quickly covered as cough. But after dessert time he catched you in the kitchen alone and took you by your hips to face him “What was that?? I didn’t know you are going to be a lecturer!” he laughed.

“Stop it you know I was obviously lying!” you tried to get out of his embrace but he had to get a kiss before he let you go with “And I was obviously enjoying that.”

YOUNGJAE

Youngjae had to move aside as you threw your high heels away “dAmn YoU!”

“Stop it - look Coco’s scared.” he warned you and picked his dog up. You threw the other shoe to through the hallway and cursed more.

“What’s wrong anyway?”

“I hate high heels!” you hissed and tried to get rid off those riddiculous dress as well “I hate walking in those I hate being in those! So unstable.. I’m all woblly and.. going to fall any minute. I’m just waiting to cause you some scandal like stumble over my own feet on the stairs and showing everyone my underwear! I feel so stupid when I wear those!” you practically cried the last words.

You burried your face in your hands with your dress halfway unzipped and your hair messy. Youngjae held his breath while you were talking.

You’re so stunning on high heels! He never knew you feel that way. He put down Coco and softly held your shoulders, fondling your naked skin.

“You never told me.”

When you didn’t reply he hugged you tightly “If you would I could tell you how elegant you look on high heels and how you seem like you were born to do it.” his words were half lost between your collarbone as he rested his chin there “I love it how you handle being in the spotlight.”

“Ohkay,” you sobbed and smiled a little “But I still prefer socks.”

He laughed “Oh, who doesn’t?”

BAMBAM

“Yes this is Dior’s fall 2020 season gown,” you nodded to the interviewer who just admired your dress “It’s actually the one’s that..” and you went into deep detailed story of the gown as Bambam proudly held your hand and smiled all around.

He had in mind the first moment he gave you these very dress.

“hoW mUcH?!” you freaked out when he showed you the most beautiful expensive looking dress you ever saw. He laughed and repeated the price he payed for those.

“whY?!” you were afraid to even touch them. He had to take your hand and let the fabric slipping through your fingers.

“Love that’s..” you gasped when you saw the bag in which it arrived “tHat’S FuCKinG DioR! BaM ThoSE Are FucKInG diOR’s DResS!”  and the whole evening went with you freaking over those, being shy, embarrassed, grateful and not being able to express wheter you’re glad he did something nice for you or angry he spend so much money on dress.

He just had to smile how serious and elegant you were now. No one could tell you know only what he tells you about the current fashion and that you were even scared to put the dress on. And exactly that’s why you were his queen.

“Oh tell me more when’s the new fashion week darling?” he pressed his cheek on yours and laughed to your ear.

“Shut up you.”

YUGYEOM

“I knooow honey it’s tough!” you nodded with your voice dripping with empathy as your friend was almost breaking down on a face time with you. She was sick to death of her busy life and you gave her almost hour of advices and support what to do when she’s stuck at home etc.

“Thank you y/n, I really appreciate that... see you soon.”

“Take care love, bye!”

You sighed at how desperate she looked. You knew Yugyeom is in the living room probably watching some series. But when you got up to go and do something his voice stopped you “Is she okay?” his head appearing in the door, peaking to see if you’re finnished.

“Yeah I hope she’s better now.”

You both agreed on what you’re going to cook for lunch and Yugyeom helped out a lot. But after he ate last bite he disappeared to his studio to do some work. You managed to kill time with tidying up after cooking, but what to do next? Feeling urge to do something productive you wandered around the flat. You had the “do nothing and everything” mood and it was exhausting.

Yugyeom came out of his room like three times to use bahtroom, get some water and so on and every time he saw you going from nothing to nothing. Everytime he smiled to himself and went back to work.

You hated this state of mind but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t start anything and you felt desperate for keep yourself busy. Finally a sleep came like a solution and you passed out on the couch.

“Babe sorry it took me longer.” Yugyeom woke you up with soft kiss on your cheek. He snuggled down almost at you and digged his head on your chest.

“What’s the time?” you mumbled looking around.

“About 5pm..”

“Oh shit haven’t done anything!” you started to move quickly trying to get up.

“Stay still.. it’s fine, let me rest a while and your duties are done for today.” he hugged you tight to stay down “also you were adorable today.”

“What do you mean?” fingers runnng through his hair.

“Just like an ad for cuteness. Wandering around not knowing what to do.. you were just adorable,...” he almost whispered his words as he was falling to sleep “you just gave a whole therapy session and there you are.. not knowing .. what to do with yourself.. so cute.”

[beckhcm]

rudy pankow, cis-man, he/him */   have you seen BECKHAM “ BECK ” CARLYLE lately ? yeah, i heard they're TWENTY-THREE years old and a WAITER now in charleston city. i mean, i don’t know if it’s their CAPRICORN vibes or that they’re -IRRESPONSIBLE and -MANIPULATIVE but also +SOCIABLE and +RESOURCEFUL but they remind me of THIS LIFE I HAVE by THE WRECKS. here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble around here. 

hello !  i’m  dani and this is my emotional support dumbass beck-  pls be nice to him he’s trying his best. if you’d like to plot give this post a like, hmu on discord ( 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐢 👻   *𝘯𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘶𝘬𝘦#5701) or tumblr ims.  xoxo gossip girl .

                BASICS !!

full name:  beckham “beck” francis carlyle

birthday:  january 16th, 1998

hometown: manhattan, ny.

sexuality:  bisexual

positive traits: charismatic, sociable, intelligent & resourceful.

negative traits:  irresponsible, selfish, aloof, & evasive

moral alignment: chaotic neutral

songs that remind me of him:  scumbag by goody grace, hotblack by oceanship, decided to break it by marianas trench, to be so lonely by harry styles & bad habits by fidlar

                BIOGRAPHY !!

once upon a time he used to wear his name with pride. his parents, sebastian and lilith carlyle were two of the most powerful people in new york. his father was a powerful business man with political influence while his mother worked for the AHRQ. they used to say the kid was spoiled rotten, being their only child he got everything he ever wanted, from the latest toys to a heard of nannies ready to meet all of his demands. his mother tried to make a good boy out of him, however, due to her packed schedule, she was hardly ever home. it didn’t affect him though  - or so he says-  he understood that his parents were important people, it was okay for them to miss birthdays, christmases, and piano recitals as long as he got to keep his lavish lifestyle.

like every other rich kid he went to private school, he was smart enough to get decent grades and rich enough to pay off teachers when it was needed. he never cared for people outside of his social circle, he wouldn’t spare you a second glance if you didn’t have money or connections. charismatic to those with power and an arrogant prick to those he deemed to be beneath him.

march 27th 2020 he woke up to someone banging on the door,  beck went down to the kitchen only to find his father in handcuffs. his mom held him and told him not to panic, that it was a mistake and it would be over soon. a day later their name was plastered all over the news. his father was nothing but a thief in a nice suit, he'd been stealing millions of dollars from charities and other government agencies to various bank accounts overseas. most, if not all of their fortune was acquired by screwing over regular hard-working people. overnight they became the most hated family in america, reporters blinded him with camera flashes whenever he dared to leave the house. a month later all of their accounts were frozen, and not too long after that they lost everything.

the fall from grace was humbling, he went from having everything to not knowing whether he'd be able to afford food for the rest of the week. tired of living in a city where everyone knew about his dirty laundry,  he sold whatever he could and used the money to move to charleston. now he has to live with a roommate (wink wink wanted connection)  and work at a shitty restaurant just to make ends meet.

              PERSONALITY  !!!

right now beck is angry; at his dad, at the world, and at himself. now that he’s living outside of his bubble he’s realizing what a fucking tool he used to be. that being said, he’s nowhere close to being a saint, there’s still a sense of superiority he can’t quite shake off.

🎶 arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry 🎶

he’s fun to hang out with but hard to be friends with. he expects people to love him without doing much to deserve it. no one ever taught him how to love properly so this is all a learning curve. he’s very codependent which is why people tend to rotate in and out of his life every few years.  

if you were to meet him at a party you would think he’s an open book, he’s very good at conversing and making you feel like you’ve been best friends for years, however that’s all bullshit. he’s reserved about things that actually matter, he doesn’t like to talk about himself or his family or what happened in new york.

big dummy energy when it comes to basic life things. he grew up with people doing everything for him so now he’s learning how to be on his own. this boy can’t cook, clean, do laundry, or even shop for groceries. it’s definitely getting better but he’s still the type to set the kitchen on fire while making ramen.  ( picture paris and nicole in a simple life )

as far as relationships goes, he likes to fuck around without committing to anything. there’s a lot of self hatred going on right so how can he trust someone to love him when he can’t even love himself ?

btw full name him and he might punch you in the face js

W A N T E D    C O N N E C T I O N S  !!! ( link here )

P I N T E R E S T  !!! ( link here )

[stufftippywrote]

not my type, chapter 5

Read it from the beginning--

"First off," Shitty says, holding Jack by the shoulders, "you're not killing anybody."

"What was he thinking?" Jack hates this feeling, hates when the shakes seem to be reverberating through his blood. It's like every cell in his body is wobbly, like he won't be able to hold himself together. "How can he make all that up?"

Lardo's over at the computer, frowning as she reads the story through. "Actually," she says, "he did kind of a good job."

"What?" Jack takes in a gulp of breath, exhales it out in a whoosh.

"He did okay," Lardo says, turning. "Not too many details, but enough of a story to keep 'em interested. Easy for you to memorize," she adds, meeting Jack's gaze.

"Calm down, brah." Shitty's still got a hand on Jack's shirt. "It's all gonna be okay."

Jack lets them lead him to the sofa and sit him down, but he's still quavering.  "He didn't have to say anything," he says. "He didn't have to go to the press."

"Sounds like the press came to him."

"And he couldn't say 'no comment'?" Jack drops his head into his hands. How could they have screwed this up so completely? How could Lardo think this guy was the perfect fake date? He went way overboard from the beginnning, with that stupid kiss hello. Jack should have walked right out. He should have never agreed in the first place. "So stupid," he mutters.

"Look, Jack, blame us if you have to," Shitty says. "We didn't think this cunning plan through. We should have realized it wouldn't be over and done in a single night."

"And I should have realized Bitty would talk," Lardo says. "You met him, you know how he is."

"I've never met him myself," Shitty says, "but yeah, bro, I hear he's that type. We shoulda known."

Jack can't stand to hear his friends blaming themselves. The desire to comfort them breaks through the web of anxiety, and he finds a bit of sanity to cling to. "Right," he says, "okay. Doesn't matter whose fault. What are we going to do now?"

"Well, for one, we should probably talk to him." Lardo has her phone out already.

"And by 'we,' we mean you," Shitty says, slapping a hand on Jack's back.

This very nearly brings the panic back. "W-what should I say? Wait..."

But Lardo's already entered the phone number. When it starts to ring, she thrusts the phone in Jack's direction.

"Lardo, Shits, come on--"

"Hello?" A soft high tenor voice comes from the phone's speaker. "Hello? Is someone there?"

Lardo gives him a look that might as well be a dagger. Jack takes the phone tentatively in one hand.

"Um," he manages, "yes, hello. Eric?"

"Who is this?" Hearing Bitty's voice near his ear stirs something in Jack, a strange vibrating in his chest.

"This is Jack Zimmermann."

Silence on the line.

Jack tries again. "Hello?"

"I... yes, sorry, I'm just surprised." Bitty's tone becomes cheery. "Mr. Zimmermann. What can I do for you?"

What can he do? Jack's flying blind. He's been shanghaied into this conversation.  "I saw you talked to some reporters."

A gasp on the line. "Did I actually end up... in the news?"

Sounds like he's as horrified as Jack was. But what did he expect? "Yes."

Bitty gives an audible sigh. "Oh, lord. Well, of course you'd want to ask me about it. I really did my best to not tell them anything. I'm just not so great at keeping my mouth shut, especially not when they're customers in my shop. I hope I haven't inconvenienced you..."

Bitty is still going on, and Jack is still searching for the next words, when Shitty stage-whispers at him, "Invite him over!"

Jack answers him silently with wild, panicked eyes.

"What? You need to talk in person."

It's not Jack's apartment, but he abruptly has a better idea. "Eric," he says, "is your shop still open?"

---

The three of them take the short walk a few blocks down to Bittle's Bakeshop, and although it's evening, the lights are still on inside. When they come in, there's only one table occupied, a couple of kids that look college-age to Jack. Bitty is there, behind the counter, and Jack's heartbeat goes unsteady and weak for a second. He's not sure whether he's infuriated or delighted to see him again.

At the sight of Larissa, Bitty comes out from behind the counter and gives her a hug. Then he turns to Jack to give him a nod and a smile. "Mr. Zimmermann."

Jack looks him over. He's wearing a baker's apron, but it hasn't protected him very well from what looks like it must have been a hurricane of flour. It's smeared all over his shirt, and there's a light dusting over his face as well. Jack's thumb itches to pass over his cheek, just to clean him up.

But along with the flour, there are the bright brown eyes and careless smile Jack remembers, and for just a moment he's back at that gala, dancing with him, wondering idly what it would be like to reach out and touch him. His thumb itches even more. Jack curls his hand into a fist.

"So you know Jack," Lardo is saying, "and this is my boyfriend, Shitty."

Bitty blinks. "I'm sorry. Your boyfriend what now?"

"It's a long story," Shitty says.

A few minutes later, they're all congregated at a round table toward the back of the shop. Bitty has provided everyone with decaf, and once he's finished passing out pastries ("sorry, they are leftovers from today, I would of COURSE have baked some fresh if I knew y'all were coming"), Shitty stands up and raises his mug of coffee. "So! Friends, acquaintances, unfairly good-looking NHL players. We are gathered here today to figure out what we should do about Jack and Bitty's predicament in re: the press. Now that we know that the vultures won't leave these two poor gentlemen alone, we should think of solutions for how to handle the situation."

"You could stage a messy breakup," Lardo says, picking at the strawberry atop her tart. "Big public fight."

The thought makes Jack recoil. He and Bitty say "No" at the same moment, then turn to look at each other.

"It's just," Bitty hastens to explain, "I don't think I'm as good an actor as all that? I'm plenty good at pretending to be close to people, but I don't think I could play mean or angry."

"An unobtrusive breakup, then," Shitty suggests. "When the press comes after you, you just say you're not dating anymore, and when people ask why you just say GIMME PRIVACY YOU FUCKING VULTURES." He pounds the table as he says it, and Jack wonders if this is really decaf they're drinking.

"Will that work, though?" Lardo wonders. "I mean, Bitty's just given this interview where he sounds head over heels."

Bitty clears his throat. "Um... we could also keep pretending."

Jack's gaze flies to him. Why would Bitty suggest that? Isn't he the one who wanted out of this after a night?

"I mean. Just to keep everyone satisfied." For the first time since Jack's met him, Bitty looks a little shy. "Just for a while. Then have a fake breakup."

"How long is a while?" Jack's voice comes out hoarse.

"Until the press loses interest," Shitty fills in. "Problem is, that could last a week, it could be months. They could still be on your doorstep next season asking what you did together over the summer."

Bitty visibly shudders. "I don't know if I can keep pretending for a year."

"Then let's make it a week," Jack says. He turns to Bitty. "If you're willing to do a week. I can get someone from PR on our team in on it, and they can probably help with the details." He pauses. "What do you think?"

He's not sure what kind of answer he wants, what kind he's afraid of. And for a moment Bitty keeps him guessing, surveying him like he's sizing up an opponent before a fight. Finally, he nods. "I suppose that wouldn't be too much trouble, if it's only for a week. What would we have to do?"

"Go on dates," Lardo says.

"Be seen going on dates," Shitty clarifies. "Doesn't matter if you actually go on them."

Jack addresses Shitty and Lardo. "He should probably come to a practice, and then if he doesn't mind meeting the other -- the wives -- he should come to a game."

"Good opportunities for the cameras to catch him," Shitty notes, drumming his fingers on the table. "And you all don't actually have to spend any time together if you don't want to."

"I don't mind." The words tumble out of Jack in a rush, and he blinks, as surprised to hear them as anybody. Bitty is staring at him, those brown eyes wide, and Jack feels a flush creeping up his cheeks as he turns to face him. "I mean. If you don't mind."

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Shitty and Lardo exchange a look, but he doesn't pay much attention to it.

Bitty seems to have lost his everpresent words. He blinks right back up at Jack, mouth open. God, his eyes are just so wide, like Jack could dive right into them. Is it possible that for just a moment he's considering -- but no, he knows Bitty isn't attracted to him. He'd just be building false hope, thinking of something like this. All he needs is for Bitty to tolerate him. That's as much as he can reasonably ask for.

Shitty quickly rushes in to fill in the silence. "It probably is a smart idea to actually be seen together. Even if it means going on some dates."

Lardo coughs. "Fake dates."

"Right. Fake dates." Shitty reaches across the table and slaps Jack on the shoulder. "There ya go. Just be seen together a couple of times this week and then say adieu. When the press asks what happens, you just say it didn't work out. The end, finito, take a bow."

Bitty finds his voice, as well as a disarming smile. "Well, now," he says, "that's no trouble at all. We can survive a few evenings together without killing each other, right?" He winks at Jack, a movement that makes Jack's heartbeat skip. "I'll just take a couple of days off from the bakery, let Ransom and Holster take care of the place. I've been meaning to take a little break for a while now! Been working day and night between this and the catering." He rolls his shoulders back. "Gosh, this could actually be fun. I've always meant to go to a hockey game!"

Jack finds himself smiling, too. It's hard not to when Bitty's going on like he is. There's something contagious about his cheer, and even Shitty and Lardo seem affected by it. They're both smiling as well.

"I'll talk to Georgia -- that's the PR person from the team -- and we'll make a schedule," Jack says. "And if you need any pocket money for when you're not working, I can take care of that."

"As if!" Bitty turns up his nose. "I may be your escort for the week, but I am not an escort for hire, Mr. Zimmermann."

"You can call me Jack." Again, Jack is surprised to hear his own words.

But Bitty just smiles again. "Well, of course," he says, crossing his arms over his chest like he's in a huff. "We're dating, after all."

Lardo makes a small sound that sounds almost like a squeak. Jack and Bitty both turn to her. "Sorry," she says, covering her mouth.

They finish their coffee and treats, and Bitty walks the three of them to the door. "Well, I suppose you'll be in touch?" he asks, and Jack nods. "I feel like we ought to shake hands on it. Looking forward to working with you, Jack." Bitty holds out a hand.

"I appreciate your doing this," Jack answers. He takes Bitty's hand to shake.

Oh no. That hand in his feels far too perfect. One more time, Jack's taken back to their dancing at the gala. Bitty's hands felt good then too, on his waist and in his palm, and Jack finds himself mourning that they won't be able to end tonight with a kiss as well. Even a fake kiss.

His heart sinks. He actually likes this boy. Wants him, even. And now he'll have to spend a week with him, all the while pretending he cares (for the camera) and also pretending he doesn't.

He also can't wait to get started.

Shit. This could be the most miserable week of his life.

[western-writer]

Betrayal Beyond Forgiveness

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Warnings: cussing, descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood and death

Summary: The Whitetails conspire against Rook out of fear but things don't go the way they expected them to go.

A/n: Finally! I've been trying to produce content for the longest time but I couldn't finish anything to save my life. But here this is and I'm very happy with it. I also didn't proof read this but will be going back through as time goes on to edit things. Enjoy!

Betrayal is a funny thing. The stinging, burning sensation that pools and spreads like electricity throughout your chest and settles into a pit in your stomach. How it feels when that first jolt of Earth shattering realization leaves you reeling. Questions racing in your mind, yet somehow you’re unable to think or choke out the words caught in your throat. It’s funny because betrayal always comes from those you would least expect. That's what betrayal is. You enemies... you expect that much from them. You expect them to try to hurt you. You expect them you screw you over. But when it comes from those closest to you... it cuts deeper than you could imagine. 

Rook would’ve expected something like this from Jacob - a set up. But the Whitetails? Eli? Rook couldn’t wrap her head around it. 

It was just supposed to be a simple extraction of supplies the cult had taken. Stealth is her specialty, after all. Rook dropped the Peggies quick - almost too quick. To Eli’s dismay, this only drove his point forward and confirmed a suspicion he had for quite some time. Jacob’s trails had changed her and, the cult having been mostly under control, it was time to put her down. 

Eli and Tammy watched her on his cameras as she worked. Tammy wore a “I told you so" look as Eli ignored it. With a heavy sigh, he raised his walkie talkie to his mouth and spoke. “We proceed as planned. I’m sorry, Dep.”

Having no idea of this so-called plan, Dep went through the plan as she was told. The area is secure, now she needs to check to see if the supplies are there. 

This part felt a bit strange to Rook. Why should she check to make sure the supplies are there? If they sent her out on his mission, wouldn’t they already be sure they’re here?

Rook ignored her warnings going off in her head and she opened each container. Her heart dropped as she heard the familiar click and she knew what was coming. She had just triggered a count down to a bomb explosion. 

Thinking quickly, Rook turned and sprinted away as fast as she could, but she wasn’t quite fast enough. The explosion went off behind her, sending Rook flying through the air. 

Eli thought the plan had gone off without a hitch as a Whitetail checked her pulse and found no sighs of it. “I think she’s gone, boss. I think the plan worked.” Eli could only hope that she died a quick death. Tammy breathed a sigh of relief. 

“It’s better this way, Eli. She would’ve been a danger to us all. I’ve seen what happens to people after they go through those trails. Now it’ll look like she went down a hero. No one will know.” 

Eli sighs, getting ready to announce her death, but there’s one problem. 

Rook didn’t die in the explosion. She was knocked unconscious and came to just in time to hear about the conspiracy to kill her. She laid there for who knows how long just letting it sink in. Her head throbbed, probably due to the conclusion and she’s pretty sure she has a few broken ribs. Rook was pelted with shrapnel and is bleeding from multiple wounds all over her body. Multiple bones are horribly damaged.

Jacob, she would’ve expected to do something like this. Not the people she called family. Not after all that she’s done for them. The Whitetails are playing with fire and if she lives through these injuries, they’re gonna get burned. 

“Deputy, Deputy, Deputy...” Jacob’s disapproving voice rings in her ears. “Bet you wish you listened to me now, huh?”

Rook opens her eyes a little bit, fighting off the drowsiness threatening to take over. Her vision is blurry and her ears still ring intensely from the explosion. She'll be surprised if she doesn't have some sort of hearing loss, even despite the ear plugs she wears.

It was sad seeing the fearsome Deputy laying here in a pool of her own blood. Having been betrayed by none other than the Whitetail Militia. Pathetic, really. 

Rook, being the stubborn woman she is, struggles to sit up, only to have Jacob slowly push her back down. He cracks a smile, finding a bit of amusement in this. 

“What do you want, Jacob?” she tries to hiss, but it comes out weak. 

Jacob sighs. “I tried to warn ya. You didn’t wanna listen. Now look where you are. Alone. Dying. How does betrayal feel?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Rook manages to growl. 

Jacob laughs. “I’ll hand it to ya, kid. You’ve got some real nerve. I can respect that."

Rook coughs, blood ozing from between her lips and she rolls over. Jacob watches her, almost like he's studying her as she spits out the blood. There's not a lot, but it's enough for Rook to be concerned.

"You have blood in your lungs," he tells her.

"No shit," she rasps. "Why... are you here?"

Jacob chuckles, wiping some blood from her mouth. "I hear everything, Deputy. These are my mountains, after all. I heard the whisperings. I'm honestly surprised they followed through. Their plan would've worked perfectly had someone bothered to confirm that you were dead. They just screwed themselves, didn't they?"

Rook nods slowly, beginning to wheeze. Jacob sighs.

"I guess I've screwed with you enough. C'mon." He extends his hand down and slide it under her back, lifting carefully.

"W-what're you doing?"

"I can't let them go and kill my best weapon, now can I?" He puts his other hand under her back and lifts her up. Rook doesn't bother with trying to struggle or fight him. She doesn't want to die. Not yet and certainly not because of people she would've given her life for.

Jacob picks her up, carrying her as gently as possible as to not injure her further. She rests her head on his shoulder, feeling oddly comforted.

Jacob felt oddly bad for the Deputy. It was never a feeling he expected to feel toward the young rookie. He felt her breathing against him, slow and raspy, pained. Anger burned inside him. Maybe he had a soft spot for her. He has to admit he holds a fair amount of respect for her. She's doing what most people couldn't, wouldn't, or would die trying to do. If he's being honest, he feels responsible for putting her in this situation, but at the same time, this is exactly what he wanted so why does he feel so guilty?

News of Rook's death shook the county. Everyone felt the sting of the loss all while she laid at the Vet's Center recovering and healing. Deputy Pratt stayed by her side the whole time in utter disbelief that the Resistance would do that to her. It took months for her to be well enough to stand and walk around but once she crossed that threshold when healed quickly, though, her loyalties had shifted just a bit and she would never be the same again.

Jacob tried to persuade her to forget about the Resistance. "After everything they've done to you," he said.

"It wasn't the whole Resistance, Jake," Rook defended them. "Just the Whitetails. And that still doesn't change the fact that what you and your siblings are doing is wrong."

Jacob just rolls his eyes. "If one part of the Resistance did this, the rest could easily too."

"The actions of the Whitetails don't speak for everyone, Jake. There's still parts of the Resistance that have fought beside me and some people have given their lives for me. I can't just forget that."

"Sometimes I think you're too loyal, Rook. I really do."

Now it's Rook's turn to roll her eyes. "Whatever you say, Jacob. I need answers and I intend to get them, whether you like it or not."

As Rook made her way out of the room, Jacob felt compelled to call after her, so he did. "Hey!"

Rook stop, turning to face him, seemingly annoyed. "What?"

"I just don't want them to burn you again. I don't want you to waste your energy on people that would literally murder you after all you've done for them. What if when you show up, they freak out and actually do kill you? I didn't save you just to have you be killed."

Rook would've be irritated with him if it weren't for the shock overriding her senses. This kind of vulnerability was incredibly uncharacteristic for Jacob, yet here he was. He showed her a side not many people had ever seen. His caring side. A side to him many people would argue is nonexistent.

Rook was confused at where the sudden concern came from but decided to brush it off - for now.

"It'll be okay, Jake," Rook responds, using her nickname for him to ease the tension. "They'll be too shocked to do anything."

Jacob watched her leave and sighs. At this point he feels a sort of obligation toward her and keeping her safe. The feelings confuse him greatly and he's unsure what to make of them. All he knows is that he hates it.

Rook stands in the doorway behind Eli, waiting for the perfect moment to make her presence known. She fights the angry trying to explode in her and reminds herself: you're here for answers, not to start a fight.

"Hey, Eli..." Rook says softly, making the man stop dead in his tracks and turn slowly.

"Deputy...?"

"Hey..."

With just a few strides Eli had closed to distance between them and hugged her tight. He was genuinely relieved to see her and know that he hadn't killed her. Guilt thumped in his chest like a drum as he held onto her.

"I thought you died..."

Rook had to admit, his embrace felt good. She wished she could forget the deception.

Eli pulls back and looks Rook in the eye. He notices that one has obvious damage to the cornea. Rook catches onto what he's looking at.

"Some, uh, some metal shaving managed to find their way into my eye during the explosion. Don't worry, it only took about 30% of my sight in that eye. My hearing though... I have about half of what I had."

"Dep - I am - I am so sorry."

"I also lost about 25% of my breathing capacity. Major concussion that will effect my cognitive function for the rest if my life. Broken skull and major brain bleeding. My left knee cap basically had to be rebuilt because of how shattered it was when I landed on it after the explosion threw me. My right ankle was broken, both wrists, my left femur, and both my radius and ulnar were pretty well mangled. Did I tell you that not only were multiple organs bruised, but my kidney had ruptured just a little bit? Oh and I had a ton of tissue damage, but I pulled through."

"If anyone could've done it, Dep, it was you."

"Yeah, it was me," Rook chuckles humorlessly. "After being left for dead on the ground... left to bleed out or die of organ failure... you'd never guess who found me but that doesn't matter right now." Rook takes a few steps into the Wolf's Den and looked around. The place was seemingly empty. "What matters is..." she trails off, turning to face Eli. "why'd you do it, Eli?"

A look of shock is plastered of Eli's face as he takes a step back. "D-do what?"

"Set me up, Eli. Why did you set me up? Why did you try to kill me? After everything I've done for you and this fucking county."

"I-I'm sorry, Dep. I really am. You were dangerous, or at least that's what they told me."

"You're smarter than that, Eli. Or at least I thought you were. Letting someone manipulate your thoughts like that... Who was it, hm? Was it Tammy? You know she never liked me."

"After the trials Jacob put you through-! She was terrified that he would use you against us. And I saw it Dep. How you took all those cultists down... it was unnatural."

"Are you fucking kidding me!? Seriously!? I have been fighting for my life, Eli! I've had to change to adapt my methods to fucking survive and you wanna say I'm dangerous because I had to get better? You really don't understand what I was up against. While you got to sit in here I was out there doing anything and everything you wanted me to do." She points to the door. "I was being kidnapped and shot and beaten. I killed for you and I wpildve DIED for you but THIS is how you repay me!? Fuck you, Eli. I thought you were family. I THOUGHT I could FUCKING TRUST YOU."

Rook steps forward, shoving Eli hard and he stumbles, falling to the ground. Rook stalks over, kneeling down next to him.

"You thought I was dangerous before? Get a load of this. Jacob saved me. That's right. Jacob. You know how much damage I could do if I wanted to? All I'd have to do is tell him where this precious hideout is and he'd come down on all of you so fast and so hard that you would never know what hit. You all would be dead before you could get your radio out. The Whitetails would be extinct and all it'd take is just a few words."

"You wouldn't dare," Eli hisses, glaring at her.

"Wouldn't I, though?" Rook answers dangerously. "All it'd take is a few words and your life would be snuffed out much like you tried to do to me. You involuntarily gave me so much power, Eli. Guess next time you'll check my pulse yourself, huh?"

"Dep... please."

Rook sighs, standing up and turning away from him. "And even though you'd fucking deserve it, I won't do that. But I will tell the rest of the Resistance what all of you did and let them decide what to do with you."

A crushing weight falls onto Eli. "I'm sorry, Dep. I really am. I never wanted any of this to happen."

Rook sighs and places her hands on the table in the main room. "You know I can never forgive you or any of the Whitetails for this, right Eli? I would've given my life for you guys... How am I supposed to forgive this? No. I can't. I just can't."

"I understand, Dep... I don't blame you."

Rook takes a deep breath and turns to him again, seeing that he has gotten to his feet. "I've been doing some talking and I've managed to talk Joseph down. They're not leaving but they'll stop targeting and recruiting unwilling participants as long as the Resistance leaves them alone."

"What does that mean for you, Dep?"

She smiles a bit. "I don't know... I mean I just experienced life altering trauma, both physical and mental. I have permanent brain damage. Another bad hit to the head could kill me. So I guess... early retirement. I'm partially blind, can't bear for shit anymore and get winded by walking for extended amounts of time so it's really my only option."

He wanted to say it again. He wanted to apologize until he lost his voice. He couldn't believe he had been so dumb. She will never forgive the Whitetails and neither will he. He will never forgive himself.

"Goodbye, Eli," Rook muttered as she left the bunker. All Eli could do is watch her leave and prepare for the chaos that is about to erupt. The Resistance will be furious with them. They'll be luckily if the rest of them don't kill them.

Rook found herself back at the Vet's Center and questioned herself for a moment before going inside. She could've gone anywhere but she chose here. She chose to come back.

Jacob is waiting for her as she enters his office.

"They thought I was a danger to them..." she mutters.

"Why?"

"Your trials... they thought you'd use me against them."

Just as Jacob feared, they had caught onto his plan. But she would never know that.

Surprisingly, Jacob walked over to Rook and hugged her.

She was stunned and almsot pushed him away before accepting the affection. God knows she needed it after the last few months she had. She never thought she'd find comfort in Jacob Seed but here she is.

And as for Jacob, feeling the younger woman in his arms did something to him. He didn't want to let go. He didn't want her to go. And he would do anything to make sure she didn't.

Some things are better left unsaid and Jacob is sure that this is one of them.

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 11

The drive is short and bumpy. The two men sitting next to me are relatively motionless, only moving when the vehicle jostles them. The vehicle itself is loud and powerful-sounding; a diesel engine, I reckon, just listening to the throaty growl of it.

Gravity puts its hand on my chest and gently presses me back into the seat and I realize we’re angling up an incline. We must be driving out of the cratered aperture of the Pit. There are twists and turns but the driver takes it slow and we eventually level out, and then the vehicle is stopping and one of the men next to me gets out and they shove in someone else roughly, almost knocking me over. The man on my other side catches me and pushes me back upright and then I’m knocking shoulders with whoever they pushed in. “Peter?” I whisper as the car starts back up, and I feel him turn his head towards me.

“Shh,” he says, but I can tell it’s him, and for a moment I feel reassured, and then I realize that if he got caught as well I have no support on the outside, hell, nobody even knows I’m in here, and my stomach drops further.

“What about Bao?” I whisper.

The man to my left tells me to shut up at the same time Peter does and I sink back in the seat, the edge of the handcuffs grinding painfully into the little nub of bone at the edge of my wrist, feeling appropriately chastened.

With my head in a hood like this all I can see is Rey getting splattered against the white concrete of the Pit’s floor. I see it over and over again, on repeat in the darkness behind my eyelids, in the darkness of the hood when I open my eyes to try and get at least a little visual input to focus on. The fabric is too opaque, I can’t see anything, I can’t even tell whether I opened my eyes or not.

I realize, as I feel a drop of salty liquid edging at the corner of my mouth, that I’m crying.

The vehicle rumbles along for another ten minutes before rattling to a stop, and then the men pile us out and, one hand on my shoulder and the other in the small of my back, push us forward and into some sort of building. We pass through hallways and corridors and then we’re pushed down into chairs. I can still sense Peter next to me, sitting down just like I am, and I can hear the clink of his cuffs same as mine as the men uncuff us and then recuff us with our hands in front of our bodies. Small mercies, I think. My shoulders had been starting to get tired.

“Peter?” I whisper.

“I’m here,” he says.

“Oh, thank god,” I mutter. If I’d been alone it would have been ten times worse.

“Be cool,” he tells me.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him.

“Shh,” he says again, and I roll my eyes beneath the hood.

“Look, I didn’t –“ I start, but he shushes me harder.

I can feel myself starting to get angry but then I bite it back down. I’m really not in a position to talk; arguably this is all my fault. If I’d just left Rey, just let him crawl to the orifice, he’d be the only one in trouble, we probably could have gotten back through the pipe and left by the time they’d seen him. But I hadn’t had the heart to –

“Take their hoods off,” someone says, and then somebody’s hands are at my neck and I feel a tiny choke of fear before they grab ahold of the hood and roll it off me and I have to screw my eyes shut against the bright light assaulting them. I manage to crack one eye open into a squint and see a grimy interrogation room straight out of Law and Order or something. Bright ceiling lamp, check; metal table, check; massive mirror along one wall, probably two-way, check; grubby balding man with several days’ worth of stubble sitting across from us, arms folded, check.

Next to me Peter is blinking away the stabbing light of the overhead lamp but I’m too busy staring at the man across from us. “Hey, wait a minute,” I say. “I know you.”

He colors brightly. “Ah yes,” he says. “The reporter. Who knew you’d be the person involved in smuggling people into the Pit.”

Peter looks over at me. “Shut up,” he says very seriously.

“I think she wants to talk,” the man says. “Why don’t you keep talking?”

“Are you a cop?” I ask him.

“No,” he says. Next to me Peter laughs.

“They wouldn’t let cops in here,” he tells me.

“So what authority do you have to hold us here?” I ask the man. He barks out a short, humorless laugh.

“You two do realize how much trouble you’re in, don’t you?”

“I assume you’re about to tell us anyway,” I grumble.

“You’ve broken into a high-security Federal installation,” he says. “I don’t know how you did it but trust me, we’ll find out. The penalties for what you’ve done are –“

“Yeah,” I say. “I know. I did the research. Five hundred dollar fine and felony trespassing. You want to hand us over to the cops now?”

“Roan,” Peter groans.

“There’s also the small issue of the man you got killed,” he says, inclining his head towards me. My mouth drops open.

“Excuse me,” I start. “I was not the person who shot him.”

“Roan,” Peter says again, “shut up.”

I whip my head around to stare at him but he stares back, unafraid, eyes narrowed, and I feel myself falter for a moment. “Could you be a little more helpful?” I ask him. “All I’m trying to –“

“You won’t be able to talk your way out of this,” Peter tells me.

I screw my mouth shut and look away from him. The man across the table from us leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “How did you two get in?” he asks.

My cheeks are still burning and my stomach is a queasy hell of apprehension and fear and anger. I don’t trust myself to answer so I don’t say anything. Peter is equally silent. The man gives us a moment or two then sighs. “It’ll be a lot easier for you if you just tell us,” he says. Peter looks over at me.

“Don’t say anything,” he warns me again, and I roll my eyes at him.

“Yeah, I know,” I snap. “I’m not stupid.”

“Oh really?” he asks, giving me a sardonic little grin. I can feel my blood starting to boil. Then he turns and deliberately looks away from me and I nearly snap, nearly, except somehow I manage to bite it back down. The man across from us is watching the exchange like it was a soap opera.

“So,” he says after a moment, “I take it getting somebody killed wasn’t part of the plan?”

We are silent.

“What were you trying to do?” he asks me. “Surely you knew that if you tried to go down the main orifice you’d be spotted.”

“I was –“ I start, and then cut myself off.

“Go on.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Mm,” the man says, a little noncommittal grunt.

The door slams open and we all jump. A short, willowy woman in a jumpsuit walks in, eyes fixed on the man across from us as though she were a shark and he a tuna. She has a white padded patch strapped across one eye and beneath it I can see mottled, scarred flesh, but her other eye is broad and green and fiery, set in her cheek like a jewel.

“Mister Farquhar,” she says. “Get out.”

Farquhar swallows, but stands his ground. “I wasn’t aware you were still on the base.”

She stares at him for a moment. “Farquhar,” she says, “you blithering idiot, I live on the base. You really thought they wouldn’t wake me up for what happened tonight?”

“I just thought –“

“No, you didn’t think at all. Why are you here? Why are you trying to do Security’s job?”

He puffs his chest up a little but the effect is underwhelming. “I was in charge tonight, I was under the impression that as the overnight Director –“

“Just because you run the overnight shift in the admin building doesn’t give you blanket oversight over everything in this damn complex. Now get the hell out of my interrogation room and let me do my damn job.”

At this the woman glances over at us, her good eye raking me like a laser, and then her gaze fixes on Peter and for a moment, just a moment, I see something resembling shock lurking in her face, but her composure returns so quickly it leaves me wondering if I even saw it.

My eyes narrow. It can’t be – can it?

Farquhar is still standing there, his arms crossed over his gut. “Since when do you perform interrogations personally?”

“When somebody fucking dies, Farquhar,” the woman says, rounding on him. She has to look up at him but he still takes a step back. “Now are you going to get out of here or am I going to have to have you thrown out?”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. He shuffles towards the door. “I’m going to file a complaint!” he calls from down the hallway.

The woman shakes her head. I glance over at Peter; he’s watching her like his eyes have never seen anything else.

She closes the door and then looks over at the mirror on the opposite wall. “Turn the camera and microphone off,” she says, “and then get out.”

A moment passes, and then the speaker on the wall crackles to life. “Uh, ma’am,” a voice says, “I don’t think the regulations –“

“I wrote the regulations. Just do it.”

The speaker clicks off and then the tiny red light beneath the camera next to it slowly fades. The woman waits another minute or so and then turns to us, her eye fixed on Peter. Her expression is so mixed I can’t even begin to decipher it.

“Hello, Peter,” she says.

“Hello, Mak,” he says.

 * * *

 “This is a fine fucking mess you’ve put me in,” she tells Peter, her legs resting crossed up on the table, head resting on one fist, balled against her cheekbone.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says. She rolls her eyes.

She’s prettier than I thought she’d be, even with her eye. It must be horrible, I think to myself, eyeing the edges of the scar where it pokes out from beneath the patch like a spider just a little too large for the rock it’s hiding beneath.

“What,” she says, “so just because you didn’t mean to get anybody killed I have to stick my neck out another couple of inches for you? I told you you had to stop! I told you what would happen if you got caught again! What, did you think I was joking? And who the hell is she?”

I’d zoned out a little bit; Makado has a tiny curl of an accent wrapping itself around her words like a snake, and I had been trying to identify it, but as she turns her baleful eye in my direction I find the trepidation sinking back into my bones like a lightning bolt. Whatever she’d been like before, whatever ended up happening to her, Makado had clearly changed.

“Her name is Roan,” Peter says, glancing over at me. “She’s –“

“Your girlfriend?” Makado finishes, disdainfully, curling her lip at him.

“No!” we both blurt out, nearly at the same time. We look at each other for another moment before I answer.

“No, I’m not his girlfriend,” I tell Makado. “I’m a reporter.”

Evidently this was the wrong thing to say, because she throws her hands in the air helplessly and laughs at Peter. “Really?” she asks him. “A reporter? Christ, I wish she was your girlfriend. It’d –“

“Look, I know I can’t use any of the information I’ve gathered,” I tell her. “I’m not going to put it out there. That wasn’t my intention.”

“Right,” Makado says, clearly not believing me. “What do you know, anyway? What’s he told you?”

“Pretty much everything that happened that night,” Peter says. “Except how we got out the second time.”

“Everything?” Makado asks, and to my great surprise I see a faint, faint blush coloring the caramel skin beneath the freckles on her cheeks. Peter is smiling lightly.

“Yeah,” he says. “She’s just curious.”

“You realize,” Makado says, her eye flicking between us, “that things that are secrets are usually that way for a reason?”

Peter spreads his hands, or tries to; the handcuffs stop them. He glances down at them, then up at Makado, and she grins at him. “No chance,” she tells him.

“Why the hell were your people so edgy tonight?” he asks. “You didn’t have to shoot that guy.”

“Let’s just say you picked a bad night to do this.”

“Do you want to explain or are you going to just be cryptic?”

“If I told you,” she says, trailing off, drawing an exaggerated finger across her neck. She turns in her chair, kicks her legs off of the table. “You,” she says, pointing to me. “Your name is…Rowan?”

“Roan,” I say. “Like the horse.”

“Huh,” Makado says. “That’s a new one. Look, why are you here? Why are you tangled up with this guy?” she asks, nodding to Peter. “And why the hell were you helping that stiff to the orifice?”

“She didn’t know he was going to try and jump,” Peter says.

“I thought he just wanted to look at it,” I say lamely, and Peter sighs next to me.

“I told you,” he says. “I told you not to go onto the plate no matter what.”

“He broke his fucking leg,” I snap. “He kept trying to walk on it. He was going to crawl on his hands and fucking knees over there. I had to help him.”

Peter lapses into a silence. “Well,” Makado says after a moment. “At least one of you has a conscience.”

“Oh, shut up,” Peter growls. “Don’t fucking snipe at me, Mak, you’re just as complicit in this as I am. As we are,” he says, nodding towards me.

I am very glad that the look Makado is giving Peter is not directed at me. “Are you threatening me?” she says softly, her voice icy. Peter looks away.

“No,” he says.

“Tell me how you’re getting in,” she says. Peter blows out a big breath.

“So that’s it?” he asks. “No more plausible deniability, no more –“

“I told you last month when we caught you,” she snaps, “that you had to stop. That I couldn’t protect you any more. The first couple of times it was fine. Just a harmless washed-up fucking dickhead ranger brain-fucked from the goddam Pit using some secret way inside only he knew. That story doesn’t hold up if it keeps happening! I told you that the next time you came in here I’d have to call the FBI like I’m goddam supposed to. Do you really think people aren’t breathing down my neck too? Do you think I just have carte blanche to run things how I want to in here?”

“I know you don’t,” Peter says.

“Please tell me why you came in here. Give me something. Give me some reason to believe that if I get you out of this, if I save your ass for the hundredth time, you aren’t going to be back in this same goddam room next month.”

“They book a month out,” Peter says helplessly. “I had a girl come in from fucking China for this. Even if I had the heart to tell her no and send her back I don’t have the damn money to buy her a return ticket. I closed everything down the minute I got home a month ago.”

The look on Makado’s face is so painful. She stares at Peter for a moment before she brings her hand to her face, massages the bridge of her nose. I notice that she stays very carefully on the right side of her face, away from the pale, sallow skin near her eyepatch on the left side.

“It’s my fault,” I say after a moment. “I ran into Peter a few nights ago when he was taking some people in. We got to talking and he told me almost the whole story of what happened that night, in 2007 I mean. I asked him if he could take me in too and he agreed. That’s all. It would have been fine if I hadn’t have been there.”

“What’s your angle?” Makado asks again. “Are you writing a story on the Pit?”

“I thought I was going to but after everything I’ve heard, not any more.”

Her eye flicks over to Peter. “Have you been telling secrets?” she asks.

“I may have told her a few things that the official report…neglected.”

“God, you never do things by half, do you?”

“Have you called the feds yet?”

“No,” she says. “But somebody died. They are going to find out. I can’t cover something like that up.”

“Mm,” Peter grunts. “Alright. There’s a guy from the cult in Bronchial right now, probably heading over to the Domes or down to the Cord. I’ll go in, grab him, bring him back out, there’s your scapegoat.”

Makado slaps the table with her hand. “Enough. No scapegoats. You aren’t a fucking cowboy. I will try and cover for you but this is the absolute last time. You have worn out all of your fucking goodwill, Pete, and that’s me that’s saying that.”

“What are you going to tell the feds, then?”

“I don’t know,” she growls. “I’ll think of something.”

“Can somebody please explain to me,” I say softly, “why it is so goddam important that these people get inside the Pit to fucking die there?”

Makado and Peter both look at me, and I stare back at them. “I’m serious,” I say. “You told me,” I nod to Peter, “that there’s a point of no return, but surely there has to be some kind of alternative to fucking killing them. And clearly you,” I point to Makado, “were at least willing to turn a blind eye to this. Um, no pun intended. Sorry.”

Makado looks at Peter. “How much do you trust this woman?”

“She’s solid,” Peter nods, glancing at me. “Her heart’s in the right place.”

Something about him saying that makes my stomach soar and I have to stop my lip from curling at myself a moment later. It wouldn’t do. Easy girl.

“Did you tell her - ?”

“No,” Peter says. “Of course not.”

“Tell me what?” I ask. Makado sighs.

“What I’m about to tell you, you can’t tell anybody else. Ever. People have died for less.”

“People have been killed for less,” Peter corrects her, and Makado rolls her eye again.

“Fucking whatever, Pete. Look. Roan. Are you in or out? You want to hear this or not?”

What the hell, I think to myself. “Peter’s right,” I say, staring at Makado, meeting that burning gaze. “I’m solid. I know I can’t use this in a story. Now it’s personal curiosity. I want to know.”

“Alright,” Makado says. She licks her lips. “So Peter probably told you that once you’re…afflicted with this obsession with the Pit, it progresses until you reach a point where if you can’t get to the Pit to get inside it, it’s physically painful, and a lot of people, if prevented from going to the Pit, end up killing themselves. Right?”

“Right,” I say.

“That isn’t entirely true. That happens to some people, but for a solid portion, you lose your willpower to end your own life after a certain point. There’s a stage afterwards.”

I can feel a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. “What happens?”

“The compulsion becomes virulently contagious,” Peter says. “It isn’t a normal disease so it doesn’t have a normal vector of transmission; we don’t know how it does it exactly, but it uses emotion. Feeling strong emotion yourself, like fear or anger, if you’re afflicted, can plant the seed of the compulsion in people near you, and then they go through the same process, and…”

I look at Makado. She nods. “The only way to wipe it out,” she says, nodding to Peter, “is an experimental type of drug called an anabiotic. Dulls your personality, inhibits emotional response. Keep that state up for long enough, that can kill the – disease, or whatever it is.”

“The catch is,” Peter says, “that if you keep that state up for long enough, like, say, if you’re attempting to cure the - the whatever it is - it can also become permanent.”

“Jesus,” I breathe.

“The only good thing,” Makado says briskly, “is that all the cases follow a similar pattern – they all originated from the night of the 2007 disaster. There aren’t any new cases, just new transmissions. You clean them all up, it goes away.”

“In theory,” Peter says.

“In theory,” Makado agrees. “But so far that theory has proven correct.”

“God,” I say. “So in a major city –“

“In a city like New York or Boston, something of that population density, you can imagine how devastating that could be. Think of how many times you feel emotions each day,” Peter says. “Each time, you could be infecting dozens of people and not even know it.”

“Luckily,” Makado adds, “it’s difficult to get to that point. It takes time, a couple of months at least, for things to get that bad, and before you reach that stage the compulsion gets so strong that most people who’re able to do make it down here and try to get to the Pit. The issue is the people without means to do so, but generally they end up either killing themselves or isolating themselves anyway as a result of the personality distortions a compulsion of that strength causes, so they’re easy to identify. There haven’t been any major outbreaks, not in a large city, but you can imagine how concerned the government is about the threat of it.”

“I don’t get it,” I say. “Why are you letting them in?”

“Because I was one of the lucky ones,” Peter says. “I had a mild case and my personality returned after treatment. That isn’t the usual outcome.”

“But couldn’t you…I don’t know. There has to be some other way.”

“They don’t infect others if they die in the Pit,” Makado says softly. She’s inspecting her gloved hands, her long slender fingers clenching and unclenching. “We don’t know why, we don’t know how it works, but if they’re inside the Pit when they get to that point, it’s just a death. Heart attack, stroke, blood clot, aneurysm, whatever does it, they just die. That’s all.”

I shake my head. “Jesus Christ,” I murmur. “How is that possible? How does that make any sense?”

“We don’t know,” she sighs. “There’s…difficulty studying it. It’s better to just keep it under wraps. Can you imagine what, say, Iran or North Korea would do with an individual like that? You could wipe out a country in a matter of months, and nobody would know what the hell was going on. And it would spread…”

“Or the US,” Peter says, and Makado nods.

“Yes,” she agrees. “Or the US. It’s better to just keep it secret, not let them know all the details. One of the scientists here, Dr. Frost, she’s the one who figured all this out. We’ve just been…trying to contain it.”

“But now that’s done for,” Peter groans. “There isn’t any other option now.”

I frown. “What do you mean? What other option?”

“That’s enough storytime for one night,” Makado says swiftly. I narrow my eyes but she stares me down and eventually I shake my head, look away. I know I was lucky hearing as much as I did. Best not to push it.

“So now what? Now you’ll stop letting people in?” I ask. Peter shrugs.

“Things Will Change,” he intones. It makes me suck my breath in.

“Christ,” I say. “I’m sorry, I fucked everything up, I didn’t know –“

“It isn’t your fault,” Makado says softly. “You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I think it shows a lot of character that you’d help that man, even knowing that you’d get caught.”

“Thanks,” I murmur.

“You can send me down,” Peter says, “but get Roan out of it. I’ll take the blame.”

“Nobody’s taking blame,” Makado growls. “I need you. I still have a little jurisdiction. I’ll talk to some people, see if I can get this calmed down. I can’t let either of you go yet but there are rooms here, you’ll be comfortable.”

She rises swiftly and opens the door, nodding to someone outside. Two men in uniforms enter the room, tall and rugged and strong-looking. “Take them to the dorms and put them in that converted trailer outside of C, in separate rooms, and lock them in, but no cuffs or restraints. Tell Melendez to call me once you’ve done that, I’ll get him to put a guard on it.”

On the way out, after they uncuff us, Peter tries to say something to Makado but she shakes her head at him and the words die in his throat. Then it’s another ride in the back of a Humvee, this time thankfully without the hoods on, and then they usher us into what is essentially a semi-truck trailer, except the inside is done up with very, very bare living quarters, and push us into different rooms. They lock the doors behind us and though Peter could maybe break them down if he tried, where would we go? There’s a guard on the trailer and even if we did get out and subdue him, we’re still in the middle of the base.

Once I’ve shrugged out of my jeans and panties and kicked them aside, grimacing at myself as I do, the acrid stench of dried urine stabbing at my nose, I reach over and knock on the wall and after a moment Peter knocks back. I think about trying to yell through it to talk to him but I’m too tired for that kind of nonsense.

The mattress is stiff and the sheets rough and scratchy but I manage to fall asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow, and no dreams trouble me.

 * * *

 I wake to the squeak of the door’s hinges, but not sharply; the awareness of the noise flutters downwards into my sleeping mind and slowly, gently, drags me out and into the day. I crack one eye open and see Makado there, looking much more cleaned-up, in a pencil skirt and a sharp jacket, holding a tray with parts for a continental breakfast on it. I sit up and yawn, clear the sleep from my eyes. “Well,” I say, my voice still a little creaky, “does the head of security usually serve breakfast in bed to the prisoners?”

Makado laughs, setting the tray down on the small folding table in the corner. “Not usually,” she admits. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Well, I’m a captive audience. Ha ha.”

She grimaces at me. “I should have you locked up for that one. Oh wait.”

She gestures to the chair and I gesture to my pants in the corner. She goes to pick them up and then stops. “Uh,” she says. “You do know there’s a commode like, right there?” she points.

I can feel myself blushing. “Actually, uh… when you guys shot Rey last night… it was so close to me, and you know, the bullets were going right past me…”

Makado has the decency to look embarrassed.

“Oh,” she says. “Um. Give me one second.”

Makado leaves then and I get up, wrap the sheet around me like a towel, and start in on breakfast. She’d brought a couple of different boxes of tiny one-cup servings of cereal and a little plastic cup of milk, as well as a bagel and a banana, and as soon as the first spoonful of Raisin Bran hit my tongue I realized how hungry I was.

Makado returns while I’m halfway through the banana and tosses me a jumpsuit. “Hope it’s your size,” she says. “We have spares but people who aren’t yoked as hell tend to lose out.”

I thank her, set it on the bed. After a moment Makado leans up against the wall, crosses her arms. She has a thoughtful quirk to her lips and I cock my head at her. “Don’t think you can butter me up with just breakfast,” I warn her. “It’ll take a lot more than that.”

“I’m not buttering you up. I just want to talk.”

“Then talk.”

“Well,” Makado says, peering at her nails. “I’ll be able to get you out of here tonight. To leave and never return, hopefully.”

“And Peter?”

“Peter won’t be leaving with you.”

“So that’s it, huh?”

“What’s it?”

“After all that happened,” I say, “whatever kind of relationship you two must have had, whatever happened that night – it all leads up to this? You hand Peter over to the FBI and wash your hands?”

“I’m not handing him over to the FBI,” Makado snaps. “And don’t presume you know what kind of relationship we have just because he told you –“

“Then what’s going to happen to him?”

“I have a job for him.”

“A job?”

“Yeah. A job. He has a unique skillset,” Makado shrugs. “And we need more rangers at the moment. One and done. And then he stops fucking letting people in here.”

I think about that for a moment. “Alright, let me help, then.”

She stares at me. “This is not a negotiation,” she says softly. “You don’t get to make demands –“

“I’m not making demands. I have skillsets too. You need reports written? You want someone there to take pictures? I can work a camera, a big one, news quality. Video or stills, I can do ‘em both. I used to work for KGIM down in Dallas.”

“Jesus Christ,” Makado says. “I’m not hiring you. You’re lucky you’re getting out of here without any charges.”

“Goddam it,” I mutter. “Look, I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I don’t want this story to end like this. I don’t want to have to walk out of here knowing that I never got to the bottom of it. I know I can’t fucking write about it, I can’t do anything with it, but it’s going to eat me alive if I never know what really happened.”

“Would it really be so bad to just let it go? Go back to whatever you were doing before?”

“I wasn’t –“ I start, but then I stop. “Yes,” I say, in a small voice, knowing I sound like a child. “It would. It’d kill me.”

Makado shakes her head. “I can’t figure you out. I find it very, very hard to believe you aren’t writing a story on this.”

“If there is one, it’s in my head. I’m not an idiot, I don’t want to get disappeared.”

“I don’t know what you think the story of this place is, but it’s probably a lot better in your imagination. You ought to write a book. It’d probably sell.”

“It wouldn’t be true.”

“So the truth is what matters?”

“Yeah. Most of the time.”

Makado laughs, a hollow little rattle. “I wish I had your optimism.”

I look at her. “What happened down there? With the amalgam?”

She yawns. “I lost my eye. Then I got out. Then I lived happily ever after. Now I’m here dealing with you.”

“Peter is a much better storyteller than you are.”

She really laughs, then, and for a moment, just a moment, I think I catch a glimpse of the Makado Peter told me about, the one he fell in love with. Then she’s gone again and this hard woman is back again, staring at me calculatingly. I shake my head, rest it on my hand. “What happened?” I ask her. “Wouldn’t it feel better to tell somebody?”

Makado reaches up and in one deft motion removes her eyepatch, and my mouth falls open. It is so, so much worse than I had imagined; in some abstract sense I had extrapolated from the frail, mottled skin peeking out from beneath the patch, I had assumed a shape and size and sense of the flesh beneath. I had guessed that it was due to violence, due to the amalgam, but the pale white bone glaring at me from the graceful round rim of her empty eye-socket, the way the thin cords of her remaining flesh hang and stretch and look as though they surely will snap is much, much worse than anything I could have come up with on my own. The rest of her skin surrounding the top third or so of her cheek is healthy and normal, but the rim around it is white as snow, and pockmarked with acid burns, and then it inclines downwards like a great scoop was taken out of her face and left the bone from her eyesocket to her brow exposed. It looks completely healed, as though it had been meant to grow that way from the beginning; nothing raw or pink or infected-looking about it.

“It’s not pretty, is it?” she asks, and the way the muscles make that dead flesh shudder forces a wince out of me.

“What happened?” I ask again. Makado turns away for a moment, and when she turns back the eyepatch is back in place. It does a remarkable job of covering it, but now that I know what horribleness is lurking under there I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to forget it.

“The amalgam got me,” she says simply. “And it started to absorb me.”

She sits down heavily in the chair opposite mine and I notice a ring of mottled tissue around her wrist, extending down into the glove on her left hand, a scattering of marks like the aftermath of acid droplets cast over her arms, irregular clusters of them, five, six, seven, eight of them on the left, one, two, three on the right. She follows my gaze.

“I was very lucky,” she says. “I didn’t have any real permanent damage. Except for the eye, of course, but you can live without an eye. You become part of an amalgam, you don’t come back from that. Or if you do, it isn’t really living any more.”

She inclines her wrist upwards, looks at her watch. “Alright,” she says. “I’ve got time. You want to hear the rest of the story?”

Continue with Part 12

Back to Table of Contents

[mst3kproject]

The River of the Giant Alligator

A bunch of Italians pretending they’re not Italian in a movie about a guy who chose the wrong place to build a hotel… it’s like Avalanche by way of Devil Fish, with an alligator.  And racism.  You can’t have a 70’s Italian jungle movie without the racism, and this one layers it on real thick.  I think The River of the Giant Alligator has its MST3K bases covered.

Rich Asshole Joshua has opened Paradise House, a resort in the middle of the ‘virgin jungle’.  He proudly tells visitors that not only has he left the surrounding ecosystem undamaged, but he’s helping the local people by giving them jobs and improving their standard of living.  Naturally it’s not as simple as that.  Trouble begins when Sheena, the model they brought for their advertising photographs (just for a dash of Killer Fish), vanishes overnight.  Photographer Daniel and hotel manager Ally go to the locals looking for her, and are told that the River God has awakened and intends to drive the white people away by assuming the form of a giant crocodile and eating them all.  Considering how mind-bogglingly stupid the tourists in this movie are, that should take all of twenty minutes.

The locals, who call themselves the Kuma, have a name for their River God but it’s pronounced five different ways and I won’t guess how to spell it.  Because of the deep breathing sounds that presage its first appearance, I shall call the creature Darth Gator.

Let’s get the basics out of the way first.  The whole movie is dubbed and the voice actors are bad. The Darth Gator prop is completely immobile but they mostly keep it in the dark or in really tight shots so we don’t notice… it’s only the occasional ill-advised wide shot where it’s obviously fake enough to be funny.  There’s a spiky fence that exists mostly so that people can get impaled on it and a cloying little kid for no reason whatsoever.  The ‘wildlife’ is a stock footage smorgasbord that includes orangutans and hippos on the same river.  The worst effect in the film is a terrible miniature shot of the hotel on fire, which would have looked just fine if the people involved hadn’t forgotten that flames don’t scale.

So all that sucks, but is fairly harmless.  Now let’s talk about the racism.

We’ll start with the movie’s treatment of its two ‘love stories’, and I use the floating commas because neither of them quite qualifies. Daniel and Ally are the main ‘couple’ of the movie.  The camera lingers on each of them to show that he thinks she’s beautiful and she thinks he’s rugged, and they spend the whole movie hanging out on balconies and boats together and discussing whether the resort is good or bad for the local people… but they never get so much as a kiss.  This is kind of nice, actually, because there’s very little time to stop and make out when you’re being chased by a large carnivorous reptile.  It does, however, make for a hell of a contrast between them and the other ‘couple’ we see.

This is the model, Sheena, and her Kuma boyfriend. I am unclear on where this movie is set (the closest we get to a clue is Ally referring to the area as ‘the Orient’, which could honestly mean anything) but it’s perfectly clear that the reason they hired a black woman for their publicity photos is to make the place look ‘exotic’.  There’s a weird moment when Joshua attempts to flirt with Sheena by telling her, “it occurs to me that Eve herself may have been black”, which… yes, that is how human evolution worked, what about it?  All that aside, at the end of the day, Sheena runs off for a romantic evening with one of the tribesmen.  We never see her talk to this guy or have any clue what made her pick him over any of the others.  They just go fuck on a beach and then get eaten by an alligator.

So… we have blonde, blue-eyed white people having a perfectly chaste, wait-for-marriage love affair in which they actually get to know each other… and black people who run off with a stranger and screw out in the open like animals.  Holy shit.  I want to say I hope this wasn’t something the film-makers actively thought about, but it might be worse if they didn’t.  Naturally, this is also a version of the ‘people who have premarital sex must die’ trope from slasher movies, and the movie makes doubly sure we know this is Bad Behaviour by having Ally remark that the Kuma are forbidden from visiting ‘the Island of Love’ on the full moon.

The deaths of Sheena and Nameless Kuma Guy also begin a pattern that lasts almost the entire movie.  Even though we’re told, repeatedly, that Darth Gator wants to drive the white people out of his jungle, for the vast majority of the running time it’s the brown people who are getting chomped.  We’re told that twelve white missionaries came here years ago and Darth Gator ate all but one of them, who then became a crazy jungle man (not gonna lie, Father Jonathan was my favourite character and I wish we’d seen more of him).  We see Sheena, her boyfriend, and the boyfriend’s brother get eaten alive.  Furthermore, most of the white deaths in the movie are at the hands of the Kuma, who run in and kill the tourists with spears and fire arrows in the belief that they’re doing their god’s bidding, and much of this happens offscreen. Those hit by the arrows quickly fall into the water and vanish from sight.  The only time the camera lingers on a white person dying is Joshua, who I guess they think deserved it.  The impression one gets is that white death is a horror better implied than shown, while brown death is a spectacle.  Again… holy shit.

The River of the Giant Alligator can’t seem to decide what we’re supposed to think about the Kuma people.  Early in the film they’re portrayed as victims.  These foreigners have invaded their land and built this giant hotel, and claimed to be helping them by giving them ‘work’. Ally notes that they’ll be able to live longer, healthier lives, but Daniel wonders if it’s worth it when they’ve basically become Joshua’s slaves.  The movie leaves this question hanging there without exploring it any further. When Daniel and Ally come looking for information about the alligator attacks, the Kuma direct them to Father Jonathan, knowing they’re more likely to believe a white man, even one who’s obviously not quite all there.  The movie really wants to be about the exploitation of indigenous peoples, treated as decorations and curiosities by white tourists.

The problem is, it wants to eat that cake, too.  By the end of the story, the Kuma have devolved into stock savages.  They attack the hotel and kill everybody, and kidnap Ally so they can tie her to a horizontal King Kong contraption as a sacrifice. The ending just makes it all the more confusing, as they turn up to discover that their god has been blown to bloody chunks after biting into a van full of explosives, and they cheer and they just leave.  Is it really that easy to kill a god?  Won’t a dead god demand vengeance anyway?  Does this mean they actually like the white people after all, and were only angry because Darth Gator was eating them?

The ending also muddles the movie’s other point, about the nature of eco-tourism.  One of the selling points of Paradise House is that it’s in the middle of virgin jungle.  Joshua brags about how he’s left the surrounding ecosystem untouched – but then we cut straight to trees being cleared using dynamite, and later we see live piglets being thrown into the river to keep the crocodiles hanging around so people can gawk at them.  You can’t build a hotel in the middle of a place and then call it ‘virgin jungle’.  You’re the one who violated it!

The script is a little unclear on whether Darth Gator is a natural or supernatural threat.  Ally and Daniel insist that it’s no mere alligator (I don’t think this movie knows the difference between crocodiles and alligators any better than I do) and Father Jonathan seems to believe it’s the Devil Himself, but it certainly dies like a flesh-and-blood creature.  Whatever its nature, it’s clear enough that Darth Gator represents the jungle striking back at these intruders to drive them out.  The Kuma literally say as much.  So what are we to take from the fact that it dies at the end?  Have we won the right to destroy the forest by killing its guardian?  I don’t believe the people who make these movies think this stuff through.

I can tell that we’re supposed to hate the tourists, and we do, although not always for the reasons the movie wants us to. Minnow, the red-haired little girl who ‘only likes to play with boys’, tries so hard to be Adorable that you want to punt her across the room.  Her mother leaves her to wander around the hotel alone, because Mummy’s got a smarmy mustached boyfriend to bang (even this relationship gets more attention than Sheena and Unnamed Kuma Guy, by the way… we are told that Mummy and Mustache have met before, and are here mostly to see each other rather than the jungle).  Other notable annoyances include a lady who seems perfectly sane until she starts talking about the aliens, and a guy who loves to complain about Youth These Days and will seize any opportunity to do so.

I kinda wanna gripe about these obnoxious characters, but I don’t feel like I can.  You may recall that I spent a month stuck on a cruise ship earlier this year.  I can tell you definitively that these people do exist, and I hate them even more in real life.

Man, this could have been a fun monster movie.  I’ve seen movies about man-eating crocodiles (or alligators… does it honestly matter that much?) that I really enjoyed.  Primeval wasn’t even that bad – it was about how humans are more monstrous than anything nature can produce.  Lake Placid had that immortal bit where Betty White says if I had a dick, this is where I’d tell you to suck it.  The River of the Great Alligator is just boring bullshit and things that seem kinda racist on the surface but then you think about them a little longer and realize they’re incredibly racist.  I went into this one hoping to like it, but it absolutely pissed on the last shreds of my optimism... like a lot of other things in 2020.

[charlienick]

hi and i love u. "i swallow your heart and it crawls right out of my mouth" for the prompts....

Richie has decided that his dream-self can get fucked. And not in the fun way.

When he’s 24, at least once per night, Richie has what he would describe as an erotic nightmare. He never actually has sex in these dreams, nor does he die or even get seriously maimed. But they’re still definitely erotic, and they’re definitely nightmares. 

The first went something like this:

He is tied to a chair. He can’t get up. The rope is chafing his skin. He struggles against the darkness, but he does not move. He can’t. Squinting out into the inky black, he wonders if he’s wearing his glasses. It’s only once he has that thought that he sees a spotlight lighting up his childhood kitchen. His refrigerator has magnets from Acadia National Park, a photo of him and Bill flipping off the camera and laughing, a copy of his sonogram. The sight of it makes him ache in a way he can’t describe, nor does he have time to, because stepping out of the hallway and into the light is his childhood best friend, Eddie Kaspbrak.

Eddie is wearing a cream-colored sweater that he wore a lot in his late-teens and the bright red shorts he was so fond of in middle school. It’s a jarring combination, because Richie never saw him wear those two articles of clothing at the same time, let alone in the same era. He’s picking at a thread spinning loose from the sweater, looking down at it. He bites his bottom lip, and Richie starts to feel nervous, uncomfortable, because whenever he finds himself wishing Eddie were a woman so that it would feel normal for him to want to take his lip between his own, he looks away. Makes a joke. Averts attention from the ache in his heart, in his head, in his jeans.

He can’t do that now. He tries, but he doesn’t succeed. There’s something invisible keeping his head pointed forward. Eddie snaps his eyes up, smirks with the lip still caught in his teeth, and says… something. Richie can’t hear him from so far away, his hearing fuzzy the way his vision always is. The smirk isn’t cruel, isn’t mean or even teasing. Eddie looks proud of himself. He shucks off his sweater in one fluid movement and drops it to the linoleum beneath him. His skin shines golden, and Richie can hardly breathe. He feels like he’s being asphyxiated, and he bucks his hips, turned on and terrified.

And then he wakes up.

Dreams like this have happened almost nightly for months now. Once, it’s Eddie giving him a lap dance while he’s tied to the couch in their apartment. Another time, Bev catches Eddie stripping for him in his bedroom, and her laughter echoes all the way into the waking world. Regardless of the content of his dreams, Richie always remembers them in painstaking detail, and it’s really causing a rift between he and Eddie.

This sucks major donkey dick for three reasons: the first is that Richie is, like, deeply uncomfortable in his own home at all times. He can’t look at Eddie with his feet propped up on the ottoman without remembering how his legs looked wrapped around Richie’s waist, can’t hear his voice without remembering how he sounded moaning Richie’s name. The second reason, of course, is that Eddie is his best friend, and it’s shitty that Richie can’t find comfort in that the way he used to.

The third reason is that Eddie is starting to fucking notice.

He cornered Richie in the kitchen while he was making himself breakfast two mornings ago, and demanded he tell him what he did wrong because he couldn’t stand another weird, uncomfortable second of this weird standstill he and Richie had found themselves in. “What weird, uncomfortable standstill?” Richie had basically responded with, chuckling manically like that wouldn’t be a total tip-off that things were in fact weird and uncomfortable.

He has stopped walking around in his boxers, terrified that he’s going to get a hard-on when Eddie, like, waters the fucking spider plant and his shirt rides up and Richie short-circuits and has a total meltdown.

So he figures he’s attracted to his best friend. So what, he says to himself alone in his bedroom after jacking off the moment he woke up for the fifth day in a row. So I’m attracted to Eddie. Eddie is a pretty boy. This means nothing. I’m still straight.

He considers bringing this up to Stan, because next to Eddie, Stan is his best friend, but Stan would definitely laugh at him and say something like you’re an idiot. Go kiss your roommate and leave me be, which, okay, true, but not necessary. He knows, Brain-Stan! He’s aware the situation is reaching its boiling point! But he can’t exactly fucking tell Eddie, hey, I wanna suck your dick, but no homo, O best friend of mine! Eddie wouldn’t understand that the situation is precariously balanced between Richie’s suppression and the knowledge that Eddie has definitely sucked dick before.

Because Eddie was able to come out after he and the Losers moved from Maine to San Francisco, he has caught some dick regularly for the past six years. He’s pretty, as Richie’s head, heart, and apparently now dick all agree upon, and the four or so men he has in rotation all seem to think so, too. When Eddie would bring home a suitor prior to Richie’s epic sexual breakdown, he would just scamper over to Bev and Ben’s, or go bother Stan, Mike, and Bill at theirs. Now however, because on top of being attracted to his best friend, he’s also a goddamn masochist, and he’s staying holed up in his room listening to Eddie get fucked (or fuck? He isn’t certain on the makeup of his screwings, though not for lack of trying), one hand stripping his dick, feeling like a total and complete asshole. 

Richie knows that one’s sexuality is not always privy to one’s knowledge of whether or not the person would be interested in bedding him or not, and his wild imagination is not totally hinged upon reality. Bev and Ben would definitely not tie him up and have their way with him, but that’s still a familiar fantasy in his spank bank; he knows it will never happen, but it’s called a fantasy for a reason. However, jacking off to the sound of actual-Eddie’s moans and sighs is definitely crossing a line, and he knows it.

So since that one fated, sordid evening, he has decided that he isn’t going to jack off at all until either the dreams stop or he’s able to talk this out with Eddie in a normal way without totally having a mental breakdown.

This was a stupid decision, he decides ten days in, because it seems like the dreams aren’t going to stop and he’s going to have to face this for real or his subconscious might actually eat him alive. He’s not going to give into his libido because his heart is stronger than that. His weak willpower will not be his downfall.

So he decides to talk to Ben, because he’s the least likely to make fun of him about this, and because he might be able to knock some sense into him.

“Wait, you and Eddie aren’t making love already?” Ben’s face screws up in confusion. “Oh.”

“What do you mean, oh? We haven’t ever knocked boots because I’m straight as an arrow.”

“Sorry to inform you, Rich, but having… ‘erotic nightmares’ about your male best friend isn’t exactly heterosexual behavior.” Richie goes to cut in, but Ben holds a hand up. “And what would be so wrong with liking boys? Or liking Eddie?” Richie snaps his mouth shut. “Eddie is the best. You love Eddie as a friend, right?”

“Totally, yeah, I mean, yeah!” Richie rambles, nodding violently.

Ben smiles patiently, “So what would be so bad about loving him all the way?”

“I… I didn’t know… I mean, I’ve had sex with girls. It just doesn’t light a fire under my dick the same way this seems to. He’s so pretty, and I don’t quite know how to go back to seeing him the way I used to now that I see him so clearly. It’s like I’ve been looking at him without my glasses on my whole life, and now everything is so much less fuzzy. Like I understand it better now.” His eyes widen as the silence stretches on, Ben smiling softly the whole time. “I mean, uh, you know, he could hop on my dick and I wouldn’t say no. Then I’d have fucked the whole Kaspbrak clan.”

Ben’s nose wrinkles in distaste, so he doesn’t respond to that. Instead, he says, “Tell him, Richie. I promise it won’t go badly.”

“But what if he doesn’t want to fuck me back?”

“You really think all this is is sex, Richie?” Ben asks quietly. He offers him another smile, an encouraging one this time, “And I already promised—it won’t go badly.”

So Richie decides, fuck it. He’ll tell Eddie tomorrow.

But then he wakes up in a cold sweat from tonight’s newest erotic nightmare, this time leaning more heavily on the nightmarish aspect than the erotic, and he decides tomorrow can’t wait. Tonight. He’s doing this right now, because he can’t stand another moment not being close to Eddie.

He puts on his glasses, pads out of his room and knocks softly on Eddie’s door. “Eds? You up?” Silence. He knocks a bit harder. “Eddie?” He hears Eddie sniff harshly from inside his room, and something knocks loudly. “Eds? You okay?”

“Mmph,” comes Eddie’s muffled reply. “Come in, you dick.”

Richie smiles and does as he’s told. He can see Eddie relatively clearly through the slats in the blinds open to the moon high above them. He’s rubbing the side of his head, his hair a total mess, his shirt rumpled, his frown intense, and Richie realizes, fuck, I love this angry little goblin. Jesus Christ, I love him.

“Hitting your head on the headboard is way less fun when you’re by yourself,” he grumbles. He wraps an arm around his knees and tilts his head. “What’s up at… 3:50 AM?”

“I…” Richie breathes out unsteadily. He decides to go with the truth: “I had a nightmare.”

“Oh. Shit,” Eddie frowns, pulling back the blankets. “You wanna cuddle?”

Richie nods dramatically and pitches himself into Eddie’s bed, immediately wrapping himself around Eddie. Eddie snorts, laughs quietly, and turns in Richie’s hold, slotting their thighs together so they’re facing one another. “Dick. You know I don’t like to be the little spoon, ‘specially with you and your newborn-deer limbs.”

“Can’t you make an exception just this once, Spaghetti?” Richie smiles, but he’s really only teasing; he’s just fine with this.

“So long as you tell me what the dream was about.” Richie tenses in Eddie’s hold, thinking, shit, I really should’ve assumed he’d ask. “I mean, if you want. But until you tell me, I demand to be the big spoon.”

Richie sighs, turning in Eddie’s hold only because it’ll be easier to say it if he isn’t looking right at him. “So I’ve been having these… we’ll call them erotic nightmares.”

“That sounds like a term you thought of weeks ago and are very proud to finally get the chance to utter.”

“Die.” Eddie snorts. “Actually, don’t-don’t do that,” Richie whispers, “please don’t die.”

“I won’t,” Eddie says, sounding like he’s about to laugh but trying not to. “Was that what the dream was about tonight? Is that why you’ve been acting so weird lately?”

“Sort of, yeah. You were, uh, you were on top of me, and you… I didn’t even see it coming. Your heart, it was… I don’t even think it could ever happen in real life.”

Eddie slips a hand beneath Richie’s shirt, cupping his hip bone and rhythmically running his thumb in the hollow between it and his stomach. “It didn’t happen, Rich. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Richie breathes out, less shaky this time, and nods. “Okay.”

A long pause, and then, “You said these nightmares, they’re erotic.” Richie’s blood runs cold. Fuck, he didn’t want this to be how he said it. “Is that why I was on top of you?”

“Sort of,” Richie whispers. “Yeah.”

“Like… Like this?” Eddie dislodges his thigh out from between Richie’s and hooks it over his hips, forcing him to lay flat on the bed. Eddie hovers over him, eyes dark and electric in the moonlight. He looks ethereal, holy, and nothing like he did in the dream. “What happens next? When I’m above you like this?”

“It’s different every time,” Richie says all in one breath. Eddie’s boxer shorts are hanging and brushing against the tops of Richie’s thighs. He feels a light breeze away from spontaneously combusting. “Sometimes you dance for me.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose, laughing quietly, “I can’t dance.”

“I know that, but my dreams don’t.” Eddie smile drops in an instant.

“What else?”

“Sometimes you hold me down⁠—”

Richie cuts himself off with a gasp when Eddie nudges Richie’s hands out from where they’re balled in Eddie’s sheets and presses them down to the bed beside his head. “Like this?” Richie chokes, nodding. He can’t say anything. He can hardly breathe. “What’s next, Richie?”

“You-you grind on me ‘til you—oh, holy shit.” Eddie swivels his hips in a tight circle against Richie’s dick, both of them already hard.

“Yeah? You been dreamin’ of me like this, Rich? How long?”

“What?”

“How long,” he grinds down low, and Richie moans, “have you,” he does it again, and Richie gasps, keening loudly, “been dreaming of me? Because I’ve been dreaming of you for years, Rich.”

“Motherfucking tap-dancing Jesus, you have?” Richie demands.

“Of course I have. Sometimes, when I bring a boy home, I pretend he’s you.”

“Oh my God.”

“Sometimes I accidentally say your name.”

Richie bucks his hips, feeling wild, caged. “Eddie, please, I need—”

“What do you want, Rich? I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Kiss me.” And he does. It’s everything and nothing like Richie dreamed it would be. It’s hot, searing, Eddie’s mouth a brand against his own, but the way Eddie is licking into his mouth feels nothing like he dreamed it would. It feels like he just wants to take care of Richie; he really wants to give Richie everything he asks for, and Richie feels drunk with the power-rush that brings. Beautiful, perfect, wonderful Eddie Kaspbrak wants to give him what he asks.

“Eddie,” he pants, and Eddie immediately pulls away, eyes liquid as they rake over Richie’s chest, still covered in his shirt. The light weight of it is suddenly stifling. “Please take off my shirt.”

“Of course, baby,” Eddie murmurs, unlocking their fingers and helping Richie sit up so he can do as he’s asked. “That better, angel?”

“Oh my God,” Richie whines, nodding. “This is so hot.”

Eddie smiles, “I agree. You’re definitely as beautiful as I dreamed you’d be.”

“You dreamed about me, too?” Richie sighs, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the thought of Eddie stripping his dick to the girls Richie’s brought home.

“Of course, Richie,” Eddie responds, hushed as he maps out Richie’s torso with the palms of his hands. One of his thumbs catches on Richie’s nipple, and he hisses, then gasps when he does it again. “Sometimes it’s sex dreams, like yours, but sometimes I dream you take me out to eat, or to the movies. Once, I dreamed you asked me to marry you and I woke up crying.”

“Eddie,” Richie says, all broken into pieces, jagged edges that sound serrated. “I would. You know I would, right?”

Eddie smiles softly, leaning over Richie and lacing their fingers back together, but the weight of Eddie on top of him doesn’t feel so suppressive anymore. It’s a comfort. It’s everything he could never admit to wanting. “I do now.”

He captures Richie’s mouth again, kisses that fall over him like stars, like meteorites, planets exploding behind his eyelids and pop rocks fizzing in his blood. He’s a shaking mess by the time Eddie pulls back again, kissing his neck and then sucking a mark into his collarbone, to his pulse point. He feels ready to burst, nearing absolute explosion.

“I want to fuck you, Richie,” Eddie says against his skin, and Richie moans to the ceiling, eyes rolling back in his head. “I want to fuck you, but I need to know this isn’t a one time thing. I won’t be my best friend’s sexual experiment, and I won’t be your fuck buddy. I can’t.”

“Eddie, I… look at me, please look at me,” Richie begs, unlacing their fingers and cupping Eddie’s cheeks. He looks terrified, ready to work himself into a panic attack, so Richie says, “I want to fuck you too, but more than that, I want to fuck your heart.”

Eddie snorts and goes boneless, his forehead knocking into Richie’s chin. “I hate you so much. I can’t believe you just said you want to fuck my heart, that’s so gross, what does that even mean?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like,” Richie says, proud that he managed to distract Eddie from the burgeoning panic. “I want to fuck your heart.”

“No, I want to fuck your heart,” Eddie shoots back, frowning intensely. Richie’s responding smile is blinding.

“We’re heart-switches.”

“This is the worst day of my life.”

“Sure, Eds.”

“Don’t call me Eds in bed! I’m outlawing all nicknames when we’re hard, it’s uncouth!”

“What about…” Richie runs the tip of his nose over the thin skin of Eddie’s neck, “baby?”

“Oh,” Eddie sighs, elbows buckling where he’s holding himself over top of Richie, “baby’s good.”

“Yeah?” Richie smiles, hooking his hands up under Eddie’s shirt and bunching it under his arms. “What about angel, my love, is that one okay?”

“This isn’t fair,” Eddie whines, falling down to his elbows and crushing Richie as he laughs, “you can’t use my weak heart against me.”

“Weak?” Richie smiles against Eddie’s skin, feeling more at home than he ever has in his life. “Nah. I think you’re the strongest person I know.”

“Richie…” Eddie smiles, embarrassed, and leans up to kiss him again, which is fine with Richie, because he’s embarrassed, too. Thank god for erotic nightmares, Richie thinks as he cups Eddie’s hip and licks into his mouth, finally free, finally alive.

[thatnerdnextdoor24]

Making friends

So I've been thinking about Kit's life in Devon recently. He deserves friends. Also, I've been wanting some angst, but decided to be nice so the angst is only light in this one. Once again, I didn’t proof read this. Apologies in advance. Prompt; Hanging out with friends

Ao3

More Kit/Ty

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kit didn’t mean to steal things. Really, he didn’t. He just saw things, and thought, I want that, and then he was checking for security cameras. Waiting for a moment when no one was looking. Then he would slip it into his pockets. The key to getting away was to stick around for a while, act like you didn’t find what you were looking for and politely leave. 

It wasn’t until he was already walking down the street did it really dawn on him, he just stole that. Part of him would want to go back, return it or pay for it. But the other part of him would think, you’ve already got it. You’ve already left. So he would keep walking, he’d feel guilty for a while. He would hide whatever it was he took and try not to think about it.

When he had lived with Johnny, it was different. Kit stole mostly in attempts to gain his father’s attention. He knew that’s why he did it back then. At the time, it seemed that no matter how much he stole, how valuable it was, whether he got away with it or not, he didn’t get the reaction he wanted. If Kit got caught, Johnny got mad. If he got away with it, Johnny didn’t care. There was just no pleasing him.

Eventually Kit started to steal just for fun. For the way his heart would pound or the adrenaline that would pump through his veins when he got away with it. He got good at it, too. Really good, and he knew that. His fingers would twitch sometimes, and his mind would calculate the value of an object. It was like a sixth sense, he knew if he could get away with it, and whether or not it would be worth it. 

But when he moved in with Jem and Tessa, everything changed. They understood him. They understood that it wasn’t something he could really control. It was like an addiction, and they didn’t judge him for it. Their house had been filled with so many of those priceless objects and Kit wanted to take them so bad. It drove him crazy. Riddled him with guilt, too. For even thinking about doing it. 

They knew he felt like that, somehow. One day he had come home with his room filled with all those priceless objects, and he hadn’t understood. “We want you to know there is nothing in this house more precious to us than you.” Jem had said. They really meant it too. They really cared about him.

It almost made it worse. Kit would come home with some stolen object in his jacket and feel so sick with himself. He knew he’d have to return it. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell them, to face their disappointment. So Kit would glamour himself and sneak back out of the house, back to whatever store he’d stolen from. 

Today he had a silver watch. He wasn’t sure if it was real silver but it sure looked like it was. He’d stolen it from a department store in town, he had stolen from them a couple of times before. He stole a lot when he was bored and lonely, he knew. But he didn’t find many opportunities to make friends. It had been so long since he had actually tried to do that, he wasn’t entirely sure how.

The last friends he had, he only had because he lived with them. Because his dad was killed. The worst part about all that, was that he wasn’t even friends with them anymore. He had ruined that. Kit ruined a lot of things in his life. All because he had fallen for….for...him. Even thinking about, him, made Kit’s heart splinter. He didn’t know how to fix the constant ache he felt. But he did know, that when he stole things, he felt better. Even if the thrill of stealing didn’t last long, it felt good to feel something else. Kit was sick and tired of longing and missing. 

It was easy to slip back into the store. Even easier to get to the glass case, he was just sliding open the lid when he saw her. Standing on the other side of the counter, Kit had thought she was just a mundane, pursuing through a stand of earrings. But from the corner of his eye, he could see she was staring at him. At him. Not through him, as all mundanes should, with his glamour on. He shot up and looked at her, wide eyed. 

She jumped back at his sudden movement, and it hit Kit, she really could see him. Her eyes studied him, from the runes over his arms and neck, to the seraph blade he had shoved into his belt just in case, and finally to the silver watch in his hand. Her eyes widened at the sight of it. Kit realized she wasn’t a mundane. She was a werewolf. And she just caught a shadowhunter red handed. 

“I’m not stealing it!” He said, suddenly. She blinked at him, then gestured to the case as if to say, clearly you are. “No.” He cleared his throat. “I’m returning it. I stole it earlier,” He explained, and cursed himself. The girl raised an eyebrow, “You don’t talk much,” Kit said, trying to change the subject as he tried and failed to put the watch back without her noticing. She rolled her eyes and tapped her ear. Kit was confused for a second, then it dawned on him. “I didn’t know werewolf's could be deaf.” He confessed.

She glared at him, and pulled a pad of paper and a pen out of her jacket pocket. While keeping an eye on him, she scribbled something down and shoved the paper into his face. Give me one reason not to tell the Clave about this. Kit panicked, “Because I’m a nice guy?” He tried. To his surprise, she smiled a little, Prove it, she wrote. “Uh, well, I am returning this,” He said, closing the glass case, “And…” There was a glint in the girls pocket, “And I won’t tell anyone that you just stole that earring,” He said, feeling proud of himself.

She stood there, gaping at him, shoving the earrings deeper into her pocket. “I don’t snitch on you, you don’t snitch on me , deal?” He held out his hand, she looked at it for a moment, and smirked. She shook his hand, “Can I get your name?” He asked, releasing her hand. She nodded, Morgan, she wrote down. “Kit, Herondale.” Kit introduced.

That’s how he made his first friend in Devon. He met her on his own. No superficial circumstances. Just Kit, being his own, messed up self, and making a friend. It felt strange. Before, his only friends had been the Blackthorns, and he ruined that. Kit screwed that one up big time. It had been months since then, but now he was starting to get back on his feet. He had a new friend, and after a few days of hanging out he realized they had a lot in common. 

Just because he wasn’t with him anymore, just because he hated Kit, didn’t make Kit worthless. He was going to be okay. He knew that, because he was making friends, good friends. He had two guardians who cared about him. Tessa had just given birth to a beautiful little girl. He was going to be okay. Even if his heart still ached everyday for the home he had made himself in LA. For the boy who owned his entire heart and soul. But he would be okay. 

He was coming home one day, from going out to lunch with Morgan and her friends, (Who were now Kit’s friends too) when he stopped to get the mail on his way in. Kit shuffled through the letters as he pushed open the door. “I’m home!” He called, he could hear Jem moving in the kitchen, when he entered he found Jem trying to feed Mina. “Welcome back, did you have fun?” Jem asked, wiping up baby food from Mina’s nose. “Yeah, made some new friends,” Kit tossed some of the letters onto the counter, glancing at their labels. He froze, one was addressed to him. He knew the handwriting almost immediately. 

Ty.

[weshallc]

BERNS NIGHT (Revisited) 

Call the Midwife AU Crown Jewels fic (this one actually has Bernie in! She must have been in panto or something in January missed a few chapters)

CHAPTER FOUR: There In Thy Scanty Mantle Clad.

“There, in Thy Scanty Mantle Clad, Thy Snawie Bosom Sunward Spread.” To a Mountain Daisy by Robert Burns 1786

"I Hear Your Footsteps in the Streets, it Won't Be Long Until We Meet. It's Obvious." Oblivious by Aztec Camera 1983

 “Ouch, be careful!”

“Well stand still, Paddy,” Trixie scolded, “and I won’t accidentally prick you.”

“Is this really necessary?” whined the publican, not for the first time that hour.

“You want it the right length, don’t you?” admonished the determined dressmaker.

“That’s too short.” Paddy grumbled, swaying unsteadily on the rickety foot stool.

“No, it’s not.”

Patsy interrupted the squabbling confirming the kilt should hang from the top of the hip and finish at the top of the knee.

“This one is too high.” Paddy fiddled with the waistband.

“No, it’s not! It sits at the navel.” Getting up from her knees, Trixie playfully poked Paddy in the belly button.

The temporary male model wasn’t amused, and Delia felt some sympathy. “Right Doc, take it off now, so Chummy can alter it.”

Paddy hopped off the footstool, the green and blue checked woollen garment swaying around his thighs. He grabbed his jeans and headed out of Patsy’s studio towards the downstairs loo. Patsy, Delia and Trixie didn’t wait until he had closed the door behind him before they burst into giggles.

 Saturday 25th January 2020

Bernie wouldn’t want anyone to accuse her of being ungrateful, but she would have much rather spent her birthday at work. To be back in Poplar-on-Tweaven working behind the bar with Paddy rather than traipsing around Newcastle city centre with Trixie.

Saturday’s were usually fun at the Crown. Sundays you could always predict to be busy, due to the temptation of Violet’s Sunday lunches and the let’s have a nice day in the country crowd. Saturday’s were more unpredictable a lot depending on whether there was a match on. The football crowd had made Bernie nervous at first, but she had taken her lead from Val, who seemed to know the right mix between flirting and being one of the lads. She even surprised herself with her knowledge of the offside-rule and recognising a few players when they came in during the off-season.

“So, what about this one?” Trixie’s irritated voice broke through Bernie’s wistfulness. They were standing in Fenwick’s department store. Her friend was holding up a black mini dress bearing a large faint gold and red criss-cross pattern.

“Isn’t it a bit tartanie?” Bernie screwed up her nose.

Trixie tried very hard not to give anything away. “What’s wrong with tartan, your Scottish, don’t you just love tartan?”

Bernie bit her lip and tried to keep a level of calmness in her voice, “I am not that kinda Scottish.”

Trixie clanged the hanger back onto the rail in frustration. Bernie felt a twinge of guilt for exasperating her well-meaning friend.

“I will probably just wear my good jeans and a sparkly top, Trixie.” Bernie tried to reassure, with little success.

“But, Paddy is taking you out somewhere nice tonight, surely you want to look the part?”

Bernie took a deep breath, “The part?...the part of Paddy’s date! I am thinking jeans and a nice wee top will do just fine, Trixie.”

 It was several hours later, Bernie was looking at herself in the oak Cheval mirror in the corner of her bedroom. The little black dress with the red and gold criss-crosses did look quite nice on and it did have pockets, so that was a bonus. She heaved up her 40 denier black tights one last time. Why did they never make the small, small enough? She smiled, knowing if Chummy were in the room she would ask why they didn’t make extra large, extra enough.

A frown reflected back at her as she fiddled with her hair. Trixie had insisted on styling it with a mountain of product she had brought back from Boots. As a result, it now seemed to flick out in all directions. The would-be stylist had been very pleased with the finished article, and Bernie had smiled and made positive noises. She really wanted to put a brush through it and tie it back in a scrunchie like she did most days. Trixie’s sixth sense clicked in and she growled, “Leave it.”

They set out, tottering the short distance from Bernie’s cottage to the Crown Inn. Arm-in-arm, more for stability than out of friendship. Trixie in nine months of living just outside of Poplar had still not mastered walking on cobbles in heels. Bernie more used to ankle boots and trainers had let Trixie talk her into buying a pair of black below-the-knee boots in the January sales. Until today, the labels hadn’t been removed. She was convinced the young saleswoman and her friend had been in collusion. Eventually the overwhelming smell of leather, shoe polish and sweaty feet on an empty stomach had rendered the usually stubborn Bernie vulnerable. Well-honed sales techniques and Trixie’s promise of a Greggs’ vegan sausage roll to offset the purchase of leather eventually triumphed. These boots were definitely not made for walking, Bernie decided. She was however glad of the extra fabric as the north wind whistled around her shorter than usual hem line.

As if sensing her friend's awkwardness, Trixie squeezed her arm a little more tightly. “You look amazing, just don’t scuff those killer, fuck-me boots on the cobbles.”

This warning unsurprisingly had the opposite effect than intended, as Bernie stuttered to an abrupt halt and dropped her friend's arm.

“What?” Bernie shrieked in horror. Trixie grabbed back hold of her stabilizer and dragged her along, laughing so infectiously that Bernie couldn’t help but succumb.

“Why are you so tarted up anyway for a night in the Crown?”

“It’s your birthday and I thought you would be having a drink before heading off with Paddy. Just because it is a country pub doesn’t mean everyone has to always wear wellies and a jumper with a hole in it.”

Bernie’s mock indignation at Trixie’s jibe resulted in a snort as she tried to hold in a laugh. They were still sniggering as Trixie lunged forward and steadied herself by slapping her hand heavily against the inn’s bay window. She pulled herself up and then slapped her hand against the window one more time. Bernie, who was still giggling, just shrugged at her friend's clumsy behaviour.

“Bit slippy there, have to tell Paddy about that.” Trixie straightened up and smiled nervously.

“OK.” Bernie nodded somewhat bemused as she pushed open the large wooden doors of the old inn.

 Bernie later couldn’t recall if it was her eyes that first alerted her that something was different; the darkness giving the game away. Or it could have been her ears as they picked up the deep drone of the bagpipes. Maybe it was neither. Her skin tingling with goosebumps was more than likely the first sign that all was not as it should be.

After that initial physical reaction, her mind seemed to give up trying to make any sense of anything. It all became a blur. She remembered Trixie pushing her in the back and into the bar and placing something around her shoulders. There had definitely been cheering and then a very tuneless rendition of Happy Birthday accompanied by the bagpipes and a small band.

The pipes - bashful Kevin and his wee dog. At first she had thought Paddy or somebody had bought her a pet for her birthday. The poor wee thing was used to sitting and looking cute outside the town hall. Raising a paw every time someone dropped a coin in Kev’s mug. The animal had become a little overwhelmed by the commotion and sheer volume of people. Realizing that the lady who had just come through the door must be somehow responsible for the change in ambience; he could not resist jumping up at the new arrival with great enthusiasm. His owner was horrified, but unsure what was more important; to reprimand his charge or keep playing. Fortunately, the situation was resolved when a large pair of hands gently scooped up the tiny mongrel and calmed him down by whispering in his ear and letting him lick his face.

Bernie remembered Violet telling Reggie to take the excited guest through the back for a biscuit. The commotion had given Bernie time to take it all in, the low lighting, the table centres made up of thistles and blue and purple hyacinths, each with a thick white candle, flames dancing a jig on every table. The black, royal blue and red tartan tablecloths and a larger trestle table covered with a different checked pattern, a lighter blue and green with gold.

Bernie wasn’t given long to take it all in, as she was overwhelmed by hugs and kisses. Mostly from people she knew like the Noakes’, Fred, Jane, Phyllis and Julia along with a few she didn’t know, which was a bit disconcerting. Along with the displays of affection, cards and packages that were also pressed into her. Finding it very difficult to accept all the hugs from her friends and free herself from those who weren’t, Bernie found it impossible to balance all the gifts too. Fortunately Trixie had been prepared for this and took on the role of a lady-in-waiting, as if Bernie had suddenly been crowned the Princess of Poplar. The village's newest resident relished her role as best friend, relieving Bernie of her burdens as swiftly as she received them. Trixie may have had a colourful life, but she did like to be of use.

It was Val who finally rescued her from the wall of wellwishers. Taking Bernie by the hand, she took her behind the bar and up the stairs to the living accommodation. “Are you ready for your present?”

Exasperated by the recent unexpected events and not knowing what to expect next, Bernie just shrugged her shoulders. Secretly she was enjoying the calm of the Turner flat and not being the centre of attention. Val gave her a quick squeeze and told her, “Happy birthday, chick.” Opening the door to Paddy’s living room she added winking,

“You’re welcome.”