#and pulled up footage of a chicken walking

[druid-for-hire]

[image id: a four-page comic. it is titled "immortality” after the poem by clare harner (more popularly known as “do not stand at my grave and weep”). the first page shows paleontologists digging up fossils at a dig. it reads, “do not stand at my grave and weep. i am not there. i do not sleep.” page two features several prehistoric creatures living in the wild. not featured but notable, each have modern descendants: horses, cetaceans, horsetail plants, and crocodilians. it reads, “i am a thousand winds that blow. i am the diamond glints on snow. i am the sunlight on ripened grain. i am the gentle autumn rain.” the third page shows archaeopteryx in the treetops and the skies, then a modern museum-goer reading the placard on a fossil display. it reads, “when you awaken in the morning’s hush, i am the swift uplifting rush, of quiet birds in circled flight. i am the soft stars that shine at night. do not stand at my grave and cry.” the fourth page shows a chicken in a field. it reads, “i am not there. i did not die” / end id]

a comic i made in about 15 hours for my school’s comic anthology. the theme was “evolution”

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: No Hesitation

Request: From anonymous: “I had an idea for Tyler Owens!! I feel like Tyler would be the type of guy that if a girl came up to him and said ‘this guy is creepy, pls pretend to be my bf’ he would be like ‘hell yay’ and scare the guy away without making the girl uncomfortable?? Maybe you could do a scenario like that with reader?? Thank youuu!!! Lots of love!!”

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: none

A/N: guys.... i'm down bad for tyler owens, pls send help (or requests so i can keep writing about him). anywayyy, enjoy!

“You comin’ T?” Boone asked as he peered into Tyler’s motel room. 

Tyler glanced up from where he sat on the edge of his creaky, double mattress and nodded. “Yeah, I just need to grab a shirt that doesn’t smell like pig shit.”

“Good luck with that,” Boone chuckled. “We haven't done laundry in almost three weeks– just about everything in my bag smells like pig shit.”  

“Maybe it’s time we popped home for a bit,” Tyler muttered as he continued digging through his bag. Finally, he pulled out an unused, plain, T-shirt that had been folded at the bottom of his duffel. “What kind of place is this, Boone?” he asked as he pulled the shirt over his head. 

“Just a bar, man. Nothin’ fancy. They got darts though, and a pool table. Which, by the way, I bet you fifty bucks I can smoke you at.”

“Boone, you don’t even have fifty bucks,” Tyler replied, shaking his head. He stood up from the bed and joined his friend in the hallway, shutting his motel room door behind him. 

“Do too,” Boone said defensively as they began walking towards the parking lot to join the rest of the team. 

“Oh you mean the fifty bucks I gave you to get the van’s oil changed last week? Which now I’m assuming you never did–” 

“An honest mistake,” Boone said, putting his hands up in surrender. “They were closed the day you gave it to me, then I’ll be honest, I forgot about it. But my point is, beat me at pool and that money is yours again.” 

“I don’t want the money to be mine again, I want the van to get an oil change.”

“Well you get your fifty bucks back and you can use it for whatever you’d like– oil change included.”

Tyler shook his head, knowing there was no use arguing with his friend. 

“What’re you two love birds arguing about now?” Lilly asked. She was perched on the hood of Tyler’s truck looking at footage she’d taken from her drone earlier in the day. 

“T’s too scared to play me in pool,” Boone answered before Tyler could. 

“Aw,” Lilly said teasingly. “Nothin’ to be scared of. We’ll still love ya, even if Boone kicks your ass.”

“Yeah, T,” Dani added from the front seat of the van. They had the door kicked open and their feet resting out the rolled down window. “There’s no shame in losin’. Only in never trying.”

“I oughta just leave the lot of you behind. Me and Dexter can take things from here. Isn’t that right, Dex?”

“Sure,” Dexter said casually. “But I’ll have you know I can also beat your ass at pool.”

“Unbelievable,” Tyler muttered to himself. “Who’s ridin’ with me?”

Lilly and Boone’s hands shot up. “Shotgun,” Boone announced. 

“You always get shotgun,” Lilly muttered as she climbed into the backseat of his truck. 

“We’ll meet you guys there,” Dani said as they pulled their feet into the van and started it up. Dexter climbed into the passenger seat and then the group of them were off. 

It took about fifteen minutes to get to the bar Boone had been going on about all day. He insisted they served the best chicken wings in all of Tulsa. Tyler would be the judge of that. 

The parking lot was relatively full– but not surprisingly so for a Saturday night. 

“If you have more than three drinks, you’re ridin’ back with Dani, you understand?” Tyler said to Boone as the five of them walked into the bar together. “I’m not havin’ you get sick in my truck for a second time.”

“Whatever you say, Dad,” Boone said sarcastically. “I’m gonna mark my territory at the pool table– let ‘em know we’re next. Grab me whatever’s on tap, will ya?”

He didn’t even wait for Tyler’s confirmation before darting off, Dani and Dexter on his tail. 

Meanwhile, Tyler and Lilly made their way to the bar to order for everyone else. “Man, he’s full of it today,” he muttered once they reached the counter. 

“Yeah, well. We’re all a little restless,” Lilly admitted. “It’s been a long few weeks without much action. Boone’s kinda like a puppy. Except instead of walks he needs adrenaline rushes and excessive fun. Tonight’ll be good for him.” 

Tyler chuckled as he turned to check where the bartender was at. Except, as soon as he did, his elbow collided with the person beside him. 

“Sorry–” he said quickly, eyes wandering down. 

His words caught in his mouth at the sight of an unfamiliar, but beautiful girl. You were gazing back up at him with equal surprise, mouth hung open slightly. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. 

“That’s okay,” you answered quickly. “I was standin’ too close.” 

“No other way to really do it in here it seems,” he said. 

You smiled sweetly. “I know– it’s never this busy here, even on the weekends.”

“You come here a lot?” he asked, just trying to keep the conversation going. 

“I wouldn’t say a lot, but enough. Any time I have a hankering for some wings.”

Tyler adjusted his body so that he was facing you entirely now. He was boxing Lilly out– but she’d understand. Especially after she got a look at how gorgeous you were. “You know, my buddy said they were good. I didn’t entirely believe him. But if you say so…”

“You’re gonna trust a total stranger over your buddy?” you asked teasingly. 

Tyler tilted his head to the side. “If you met my buddy, you’d understand why. You know we’re all gonna play some pool in a bit if you wanted to–”

“Hey Y/N, there you are!” Tyler heard someone say, cutting him off. He watched as your head snapped around. A man– tall with broad shoulders and black hair, was pushing through the crowd towards you. 

“I gotta go,” you said to Tyler quickly, instantly causing his shoulders to fall. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too,” he grumbled. He turned back towards the bar to avoid seeing you reunite with who he supposed was probably your boyfriend. 

“Don’t sweat it, T,” Lilly said, clapping him on the back. “You’ll get the next one.”

Tyler rolled his eyes, kicking himself for letting himself get his hopes up over a stupid, two minute conversation. 

Once he and Lilly got everyone’s drinks, the pair of them made their way back towards the pool table which Boone had successfully taken over. No time was wasted before Boone was insisting the pair play. 

To Tyler’s absolute dismay– he really did suck. 

He lost three games in a row before finally calling it quits. He opted to sit at a high top table with Dexter, watching Lilly and Boone compete instead. 

Tyler was just about to throw down the last of his beer when suddenly, he felt an arm loop through his.  He turned to tell who he assumed was Dani, that they’d had way too much to drink, but before he could, a voice (that certainly didn't match Dani’s) rang out. 

“Hi baby, there you are!”  

Dexter, who was sitting across from Tyler, glanced at him surprised. 

Tyler looked to his left and locked eyes with the same girl from the bar earlier. Except now, she was gazing at Tyler desperately. Without warning and before Tyler could even react, you leaned closer to him. 

In a hurried whisper, you spoke so that only Tyler could hear. “There’s a guy over there. I keep asking him to, but he won’t leave me alone– can you just pretend to know me so that he’ll go away?”

Then, you press your lips to the side of Tyler’s cheek quickly, like it was a gesture the two of you had shared thousands of times. You continued holding on to his arm, your eyes wildly trying to communicate how terrified you clearly were, as you looked pleadingly at him to help you. 

Tyler’s face broke out into a huge grin as he, with absolutely no hesitation, took on the role of boyfriend for a complete stranger. He wiggled his arm out of your grasp and instead wound it around your waist, pulling you tightly into his side. 

You were taken aback by how secure and safe you suddenly felt. 

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Tyler replied.  He could visibly see the look of relief that washed over your face once you realized he had decided to play along. 

Tyler tugged at your hip, indicating that he wanted you to lean in closer. You took his hint and tilted your head towards him.  

“Which guy is it?” he asked discreetly. 

“Red shirt, black hair,” you mumbled quietly. It was only then that you notice the other man sharing the table with your rescuer. You offered him an apologetic smile, hoping that he was intuitive enough to pick up on the cues you’d been dropping.  

Next you noticed the rest of his group scattered around the pool table. Initially, they were in the middle of a game when you came over, but now, their attention had shifted. You glanced at the beautiful girl with tanned skin and long, braided hair, holding a pool stick. She offered you a small, but cautious smile. You hoped it wasn’t her boyfriend you were currently draped over.  Then, there’s another guy– with messy black hair topped with an old, worn ball cap. He had a confused look on his face, but when the girl leaned over and whispered something in his ear, his eyes lit up in understanding. 

The man you were clinging to rubbed your hip bone gently with his thumb. The sensation sent sparks across the entire surface of your skin. You wondered if he even realized he was doing it.  

You’d seen him at the bar earlier and had gotten a good, gut feeling about his demeanor. He seemed genuine and kind– even though you’d only managed about a two minute conversation with him before the man who’d been following you around all night came back. It wasn’t until after you darted off that you realized you should have just explained what was going on right then and there. 

You’d realized he was handsome earlier, but this was the first time you’d gotten a good look at him up close, now that your nerves had calmed down and you felt like you were able to breathe again. You wanted to give yourself a pat on the back, because it seemed like you’d chosen the best looking man in the entire bar, if not world, to be your pretend boyfriend. He had distinct features– a strong jaw, tanned skin, and eyes so green, it made you feel like spring was blooming. His brows were furrowed into a firm line as he scoured the bar nonchalantly, looking for the man who had led you to him. You felt grateful that this complete stranger cared enough to help you out.  

“That him?” he asked, nodding in the direction he wanted you to look. 

You turned your head and watched in dismay as the creepy man from earlier approached. 

“Shit– yes.”

“I got ya, don’t worry,” he murmured gently. “Can I help you?” he asked, turning once the man was within earshot. 

He stopped in his tracks, eyes glued to you. “I was jus’ lookin’ for her,” the man said, words slurring together. 

“And what use do you have for my girlfriend?” he challenged, grip around your waist tightening. 

“Sorry man– she didn’t tell me she had a boyfriend.”

“But she did tell you to leave her alone, right?”

“Yeah, jus’ thought she was playin’ hard to get. You know how these girls can be–”

“No, I don’t actually,” Tyler said. “I think if she said leave her alone… you should probably leave her alone.”

The man put his hands up in surrender. “Easy man, I didn’t mean any harm by it. Like I said, I didn’t realize she was taken.”

“I don’t think you’re getting it–” Tyler said, standing up from his chair to face the man. You were surprised by how cold you felt without his hand around your waist. 

“You don’t get to just choose to respect her now that you know she has a boyfriend.” 

“You tryin’ to start something here, man?” The guy narrowed his beady eyes. 

“Why? You offerin?” Tyler took another step forward, anger surging in his chest faster than he anticipated.  

“Might be,” the man said, meeting Tyler halfway. The two were face to face now– things were escalating. 

But before things could get out of hand, the guy from behind the pool table hurried over. “Easy, T–” he placed a hand on his shoulder before facing the guy. “Why don’t you just back off, man? Get outta here.”

“Yeah, c’mon–” two more people from his group stepped forward. Like a small army, you thought. All stepping up to protect you– a total stranger. 

There was a brief moment where the man studied the scene before him. Then, like he realized that taking on the four people defending you was a bad idea, he backed off. 

“Whatever, she’s not worth it anyway,” he said, throwing you one, final nasty glare before turning and stalking off. 

You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath until you saw him walk out the front door. Only when it snapped shut behind him were you able to exhale a shaky sigh.  

That guy’s been following me all night. I thought I could handle it, but then he got really mad when I wouldn’t let him give me a drink,” you said shakily. 

“What a creep,” one of them said. 

“Thank you so much–” you said, utterly relieved. Then, you introduced yourself to the table of people you’d abruptly intruded upon. 

“Don’t mention it, glad we could help. I’m Tyler.” 

The others had gathered around the table now and each introduced themselves as well. 

“You were right to trust your gut,” Dani said, offering you a reassuring nod. 

“Yeah, who knows what that creep might’ve stuck in your drink.”

You shivered at the thought. 

“Well, I guess I’m glad I crashed your table then,” you smiled, turning to Tyler. For more than one reason, you thought, taking in the sweet laughter lines around his eyes and full lips. You caught yourself staring and forcibly looked away. You weren’t even drunk, but Tyler made your head spin.  

“Anyways, I should go,” you said quickly. You had to remind yourself of the circumstances.  You’d practically mauled Tyler in front of his friends and forced him to get into a brawl in the middle of the bar. And no matter how breathtakingly attractive you found him, there was no denying the fact that this entire situation was awkward and uncomfortable. You cleared your throat. “I’m really sorry for intruding, thank you again.”  

Tyler was still entirely dumbstruck, even as you walked away. It was like his brain couldn’t keep up with whatever the hell just happened. He watched as you disappeared through the crowd of people. 

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Dani spoke up.  

“Huh?” Tyler turns towards them. 

“She was into you, Tyler.”

He wasn’t sure he heard them right. The bar was loud and Tyler’s mind wasn’t working properly tonight, thanks to you and whatever perfume you’d been wearing. 

Lilly nodded her head in agreement, “And if I had to guess by the drool on your chin, I’d say you were into her too.” 

Feeling a little ganged up on, Tyler just stares at his team in disbelief. “I don’t– I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Boone shook his head and chuckled as he walked back towards the pool table. “Man, I have never– in our entire ten years of friendship, seen a girl leave Tyler Owens speechless– this one might be special folks,” Boone chuckled. 

“Go after her, you dummy,” Lilly said. 

“And do what?” Tyler asked. 

Dani scoffed, “Talk to her– invite her back to the table– literally anything but let her just walk away, you idiot.”

Slightly offended, but more motivated, Tyler stood up from the table and finally took the last sip of his beer. It was warm, but he used it as a final attempt at some liquid courage, before striding off after you. The crowd of people was thick, but he was confident that no matter where you were, you’d stand out.  

Sure enough, he spotted you across the bar. You had left your glass on the counter and were currently shifting through your bag, looking for something. Tyler took a deep breath before walking over.  

He called your name, which he was proud to now know, causing you to look up from your things.  

“Tyler, hey,” you said, unable to hide the surprised smile that crept across your face.  

“So that was pretty weird, huh–” Tyler tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but all he did was realize how dry his mouth was. 

You bit your lip, “Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t mean to make it weird– I just– I was scared. He was so creepy, and you just looked like you’d make a good fake date…” 

Oh my god, what were you saying? You were rambling, like you always did when you were nervous. You took another sip of your drink, wishing it was something stronger. 

But a smirk crept up on Tyler’s face, like he could tell you were floundering. 

“Oh yeah?” His voice was playful. “And how do you think I’d be as a real date?”

Butterflies ran rampant in your stomach as you clenched down on your jaw, trying to play it cool. But it was hard to remain casual when you were pretty sure Tyler was asking you out. 

Your voice was hitched slightly higher than normal when you responded, “I think I’d like to find out sometime.”

Tyler flashed his white teeth in a stunning smile before nodding back towards the table he’d just come from. “How about we start now? I got a hankering for some wings, what do you say I get us a plate to share?”

With no hesitation, you reached for his outstretched hand. 

“Should we eat before or after I kick your ass at pool?” you smiled sweetly. 

[ericshoney]

Future vlogger ~ Brothers!Sturniolo triplets

Summary: You get a hold of the camera not realising it was vlogging.

Warnings: None

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

At the age of two, you have already changed so many lives. You were a total surprise to your family, your parents not expecting to get pregnant this later in life, but they were happy, along with your four older brothers.

You were now at the age where you were starting to learn everything, wondering why three of your brothers looked the same and sometimes lived with you and sometimes didn't.

Nick, Matt and Chris explained simply what they did, showed you some of their videos, which always made you giggle.

Today the guys were back in Boston and wanted to take you out for lunch whilst filming a little vlog.

"What's up guys, welcome back to another vlog, today we are just going out and taking our little sister, Y/n too." Nick introduced.

"Come along for the fun!" Chris exclaimed.

You then came running out of Matt's room, wearing a tiny Fresh Love hoodie that Chris got you custom made, some brown shorts and a pair of black Converse.

"There's the special Sturniolo!" Chris shouted as you ran to him.

"Loving the outfit, kiddo." Nick said, showing the camera your fit.

"Matty pick it." You said as Matt walked in smiling.

"That I did, bub." He replied.

"Okay guys, first stop, food!" Chris shouted to the camera.

Nick turned the camera off as you all got in the car, you sat in the back with Nick playing some games on your IPad, whilst Chris was trying to find some songs to play that didn't swear much. The guys tried their hardest not to swear around you, but sometimes it was too hard not too.

"Get out of the fucking road you idiot!" Matt screamed at some dude who was just crossing in the middle of a busy road.

"Matt!" Nick shouted.

"Oops." He mumbled.

You were luckily distracted by your IPad not to notice. When you all arrived at the restaurant, you held Nick's hand as you walked in, Chris vlogging when you sat down.

"Whatcha colouring, kid?" He asked, as you coloured your menu.

"Cat." You answered, pointing to the now purple cat.

"Very cute." He said.

After a bit, Chris put the camera down, thinking it was turned off. You reached for it and giggled pulling faces at the camera, not knowing it was still recording.

"Hi vog." You waved, making the guys smile.

Once the food arrived you all started eating. Nick cut your chicken up so it was easier for you to eat as the guys talked about what else to do.

~~~~

When you all returned home, you ran off to find Trevor as Nick started to edit the footage. He sat watching it and noticed it recorded your bit in the restaurant, calling Matt and Chris he played back the footage again.

"I thought it was turned off." Chris said.

"Well obviously it wasn't." Nick sassily responded.

"Keep it in. It's cute." Matt said.

"It is, the fans will love it too." Chris replied agreeing.

"We have a future vlogger on our hands~" Nick sang, smiling again at the screen.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

Super random question: from one of your fics, what was that species of melon that Matt was trying to grow when he was staying with Arthur in England? What is its significance to Matt?

Trigger warning for pretty bad emotional neglect of a child, non graphic illness and some shockingly nice headcanons.

And ah, the Montreal melon. It's a type of muskmelon or honey dew or honey rock from Canada around the Montreal reason and it's a bit peppery! Like a sweet slightly tart nutmeg flavour. It's one of those few things that Matt just... really associates with one of the somewhat rare fucks given about him lol.

It's supposedly from the 19th century but there are images of it or something very similar going back quite a bit earlier. That headcanon post thing was in early spring in the late 18th or very very early 19th century. Matt's under Arthur's roof because the economy sucks ass after the American revolution so it's not worth the money to really do anything with him. Arthur's vaguely hoping Francis will buy him back lol. So no one much pays him much mind, he's more or less left to his own devices so he tries to keep himself entertained and productive and out from underfoot. Wars with France are going full tilt again so no one wants to socialize with the French welp.

He does his work, doesn't complain, cries outside if he's sad or homesick or lonely so he doesn't get on anyone's nerves. He eventually rescues the cat from the dairy yard that Arthur lets him keep but it's in one of these episodes of loneliness one of the gardeners asks him if there's anything he'd like to put in the garden that year and Matt asks for the nutmeg melon. The gardener doesn't want to risk square footage on something he hasn't tested so he says if Matt can grow it somewhere and prove it'll do all right, he'll put it in the garden. So for a year or two, at the very end of winter he's always out in the mud beyond the back garden where he won't get yelled at trying and failing to start up his melons. They keep dying and he's sad lol. They need a green house but he's not really allowed in there with his stupid little experiment.

But they're dead, he flops over ill with the economy in the gutter and gives up. In a whim while on a walk, Arthur follows the cat outside one day into the parkland beyond the gardens, finds Matt's little failed attempt and, pulls up some not entirely mud rotted melon vines and hands it over to the greenhouse. He vaguely recognizes it as one of Matthew's silly attempts to grow something in the windowsill and well he's been even mopier than usual so maybe if it lives he'll stop being so bloody depressing. Matt's kind of stopped doing anything except his work, sluggishly dragging himself to get the eggs and feed the chickens and other poultry.

He kind of just falls over in a feverish heap one day, one of the staff puts him to bed and they're kind of at a loss "who's even in charge of this one?" The uncle who's expressed half a fuck is overseas, Admiral Kirkland hasn't so much as mentioned the boy. He's just kind of there? But someone finds Rhys down in the valleys with the sheep so he marches back up to the house, doesn't even take his wellies off, and tells Arthur off because he is in charge of the lad and it's not as if Francis is going to take him back in the middle of another war for Christ's sake.

So Arthur tells the household to go feed the lad something decent and checks in on him. He's not too poorly off just sad, weak and a bit miserable but Arthur sits down to chat a bit, make sure he's not about to have to clean up a death and Matt just kind of leans over and kind of wants to be held. Arthur's not really... there yet with him so he just awkwardly, if gently scolds him to get back under the covers, he's getting too old for this kind of nonsense anyway. Matt apologizes, rolls back over and curls back up. Arthur gives him an awkward pat and grimaces about the show of what for Arthur at the turn of the 19th century is practically hysteria. Good lord, that was awkward and undignified. Matt just kind of unravels. Nothing matters, much less him. Not a serotonin in this kids body. He misses Alfred like mad, he hasn't had a letter from his uncle in a year. He feels like shit so he just kind of starts shutting down. Fever spikes, he doesn't start hallucinating but he's confused and crying a lot and no one really wants to do much about it so again someone tells Arthur about it and he kind of sighs "very well, easier than paying off witnesses to a resurrection." Hauls him over to the actual family side of the house, and tries to get his temperature down and indulges the incessant need for human contact the boy wants. And lord, it's annoying how much Arthur enjoys parenting but much resistance he puts against having another child but even his anglo ass is kind of touched by how much Matt enjoys his father's company. He's yours you dumb ass!!!! Love him a little and he'll do whatever you want for centuries!!! Long before antibiotics or even real painkillers all Arthur can really do is ply him with Willow bark tea and keep him company and that makes most of the difference. Like oh, surprise, some basic affection gives him the will to live. Who'd've fucking thought? When he's feeling a bit better, Arthur starts stashing him in the library near his desk piled up with blankets by the fire and Matt is more interesting than he's ever been. He sleeps and reads mostly but occasionally asks questions and perks up. Takes a bit, pre modern medicine but he hops too it just in time for spring and oh, well look at those melons coming from hot houses now. They'll have to plant a few rows! Cue getting barrelled into and squeezed and having one whole feeling about making Matthew happy.

So voila, melons are love.

[weebsinstash]

On my platonic yandere Batfam bullshit again thinking about, like, deliberately dramatic scenarios because I crave emotional tension

-imagine if Bruce gets called in to regressed!Reader's school because you got in a fist fight with another kid, and this kid is the son of one of his prominent business partners and Bruce, uh, doesn't immediately believe you when you state for him and the principal why you got into a fight because, hey he knows that boy, he isn't THAT bad! And Bruce scolds you and makes you apologize and even grounds you once you two are in the car alone and you're just noticeably extremely angry and quiet to the point you won't even come out of your room for dinner. And after some time has passed, days even, a couple members of the fam are in a room together with you and someone cracks a joke about you losing your temper over a misunderstanding and you just, stare directly at them as you pull out your phone, press play on a video, and walk away as they watch where you had been trying to take a photo of something like idk a flower or the weather and began accidentally filming after Selina helped dropped you off at school and the footage caught the boy outright calling her a slut for what she was wearing

And of course Bruce is upset because that kid insulted Catwoman and also got some swings back at you (he's probably proud to a certain degree that you defended Selina and shes absolutely delighted when she hears about it) but he asks "well why didn't you tell me you had proof im the first place" and you just spit at him "oh so I need PROOF for you to BELIEVE ME?" And extra bonus points if Reader has their old memories back and hits him with "after everything you've done to me, I finally ask for your help and ACTUALLY needed you this ONE TIME and you couldn't even believe me? Wow, my hero 🙄" so now he knows he's broken your heart AND you're back to the "old you" that he wants to, father all the depression and trauma out of

-since Dick, Barbara, and Reader would all be going to a prestigious school I think of like, what if your class got kidnapped for ransom while on a field trip. And Robin and Batgirl look over to you thinking you're going to panic and freak out but you're suspiciously calm, or, calmer than the anxiety stricken adopted 'sibling' they've had this whole time, and maybe despite being kidnapped by like, idk, Babyface or Black Mask or Two Face, and maybe you even just outright insult them and it becomes horribly obvious to them "oh not only do you have your memories back, they've unintentionally turned you into an explosive powder keg of repressed anger and frustration because they betrayed what little trust you had left"

You just look at Two Face and start fucking with him, this criminal looking down as a teenager starts roasting him way too casually and maybe with facts you shouldn't even know, things you remember from your time as a hero before. "Hey Harvey, what's hanging, it's been a while. Hey can I ask a question? You ever think about just outright asking someone like I dunno Bruce Wayne to fix that fucked up meat gristle face of yours? Like, I'm sure having half your body resemble the same consistency of a breakfast sausage has its uses in intimidation, but, like, I'm sure if you just walked up to Batman and said 'hey if you make me look less like a rotisserie chicken I'll quit crime' and he would probably just like, HAND the money for the sugery to you, like, do you think Batmobile money falls out of the sky, he's clearly fucking loaded"

And of course the follow up/alternative of "the stress triggers Reader's metagene or old memories or both and you just start whooping ass unapologetically and Barb and Dick are sweating because they're trying not to break incognito but like you're significantly hurting these dudes, you're clearly really angry and upset and taking it out on them" and tbh I imagine Batman already has contingencies for this possibility. He shows up in costume and Two Face has already fled but you're standing there in your preppy school uniform now dirty and torn, blood on your knuckles, about to beat a man unconscious while your classmates either cower or cheer or fear you. If Reader has some sort of magic, then he just has to get Nth metal from Hawkgirl or Hawkman, maybe he'll make it a cute bracelet, just a nice gift from Dad. Bodily autonomy to use your own powers and be an adult again, what's that? He's disappointed in you for caving into the darkness and also? you're grounded >:(

-Reader becoming a mugging/gun violence victim and now you're never allowed to leave the manor, period. I can only imagine like the projection of trauma from Bruce if, after losing his parents, he has to watch you weak and recovering from a gunshot, wheezing in bed struggling to breathe properly because a bullet went through one of your lungs. You're put in a total bubble to recover in absolute peace and sterility, but, even far after you've recovered, your "guardian" is still convinced someone will leap out of the bushes to hurt you, so, no leaving the manor unless he's with you. Like. Imagine him being so scared he doesn't even want to trust your safety with the other Batfamily members, and maybe he even cracks down on several of the other younger members because he doesn't want them to get shot too (also like, resulting trauma and overprotectiveness if one or multiple of them saw you get shot and are like, still fucked up over having to apply pressure to your bullet wound as your warm blood leaks all over their fingers and they can't do anything to stop you and-- like do you see how that would send some of them into borderline psychosis when theyve already got So Many Many Issues)

-all of them try to exert control over what you're exposed to and consume in terms of entertainment. You have spyware on your phone and any member of the Batfam who can use the Batcomputer can see your past and current browsing history and I will die on this hill. Bruce and Alfred are rigorous in making sure you don't ruin your mental health. Like you know how I talked about "what if you had a yandere that was in tech and he gave you a phone that he occasionally spies on and remotely disables if he thinks you're spending too much time on it/seeing something you shouldnt"? Bruh that's like half of the Manor, Bruce especially. He has to "make sure nothing bad happens to you". All it can take is 'one bad day', after all...

-obsessed with the idea of them getting jealous of you spending time with other alternate universe versions of themselves, in concepts where Reader is a JL member/vigilante and has the power/tech to multiverse travel anyways. Batman hasn't seen you in a couple weeks and, actually maybe he's a little concerned about you, you've kind of just vanished off the face of the earth, and he bumps into you on a Gotham rooftop with. Another Batman, and getting along much better and being more casual and friendly with the stranger than with him. Broody fucking "I am darkness, I am the night, I am vengeance" Bruce catching you like. smoking weed on his couch with the hilariously weird version of him from the Harley Quinn cartoon universe and God forbid if anyone shows signs of having feelings for you

(also could you imagine how ballistic he and or Jason would go if they caught you hanging out with, you know, one of the super violent "murder is ok" Jasons/Batmans and you tell them straight up "actually I agree with what he's doing, I want to help him, in fact maybe I'll work with HIM now instead of you" like, y'all, I think Batman would permanently never let you work as a hero or sidekick ever again because he's genuinely worried you'll fall down the slippery slope and make a mistake that ruins your life. Like depending on the depiction of Batman you're looking at, some of them admit straight up that they don't kill Joker because they know they're legitimately filled with so much anger and hatred that if they kill even one person, that'll break the barrier to killing tons of criminals outright and they won't be able to stop)

-all I'm saying is that if they ever caught you like being cordial or mildly friendly with an alternate universe version of a villain, no matter how good they are, they shut that shit down immediately. "Y/N who is that" "oh this is my bud The Jester from the universe where the Joker is actually really good and a superhero and--" *jester proceeds to be grappled back through a multiverse portal* "wait no don't freak out this poison ivy is actually really chill and she's married to Harley and she sells me really good weed and she only does a liiiiiitle bit of ecoterrorism and--" immediately thrown in Arkham

-I just genuinely think it's funny that they're probably either smoking weed with you bc trauma and stress or are vehemently anti drug. Can you imagine just in general like, regressed reader, batfam member, either way, just being an actual adult just minding your business and smoking weed and Bruce reacting like he just caught you with a loaded gun in your pocket "y/n is that a weed" "yeah its for my chronic pain--" "I'm calling commissioner gordon" like, Bruce practically acting like you need to go to rehab

-I kinda love the drama of Bruce or Dick or Barbara or just any of the Batfam members accidentally basically ruining your social life and social reputation. You were at a house party one night and eventually pics start getting texted around of Nightwing confronting you in the yard and pulling you away and now there are rumors you're a criminal on parole. You get invited to smoke weed at a friend's and suddenly Batman is in the house and suddenly everyone's parents are there to pick up their kids as he lectures about the dangers of drugs and now absolutely NO ONE from school wants anything to do with you "because what if Batman shows up and gets us in trouble"

-I feel like, as one of those vaguely morally gray areas, that Bruce would make you take medication and get treatment for, like, really anything that needs it, but more specifically anxiety and depression and just overall psychological issues. And as a dark twist what if you aren't really naturally anxious and don't even have an anxiety disorder or anything but he puts you on pills to mellow you out because you're freaking out at him for completely valid and understandable reasons like, you know, being confined in his home against your will. "What, you aren't mad about being kidnapped and controlled and lied to, you clearly just have pre existing emotional issues that keep you from reacting properly, but don't worry I'm here to help" 🙄🙄🙄

[yourkimjaejin]

Good Bad Decisions

Aurora and Haechan get their ears pierced together

Back with a new post!! Hope you guys enjoy!! I'll have some more soon so stay tuned!! ~ Author Izzy

Donghyuck almost had the door open without a creek when a voice from behind made him jump out of his boots.

“Lee Donghyuck. Where in hell do you think you're going?” 

“Yah! What did Mark hyung say about cursing?”

“Hell is hardly a curse word oppa. And don’t avoid the question. How dare you sneak out to get your ears pierced without telling me?” Aurora smirks when Haechan can’t even lie about his whereabouts at two in the morning.

Haechan had been acting suspicious for a couple of days now. 8Dream had just gotten home from Indonesia but the members weren’t unpacking. Days later they were going to Thailand to continue their first world tour. The boys and her were living in a reality that was dream only a couple of years ago

In the days they were given as a break, Aurora had noticed something. She always notices when somethings up with her members. That way, she can send the most appropriate person to help. This time, she noticed Haechan was being shifty. When he was shifty, it meant he had something planned that the singer didn’t want anyone to know about. 

If he didn’t want someone to know, then his phone password shouldn’t be 0606.

And now she was waiting for Haechan to either explain or lie horribly. Her bet was on the latter. 

Haechan sighed, he knew lying was futile, especially with Aurora, “Look, I have an appointment in ten minutes. Can I count on you not to blab on me?” Haechan wasn’t past begging. If Donghyuck got busted, Mark would grill him then send him to be fed to Taeyong and Doyoung. 

“No you can’t.” Aurora turned around and went to her room. Haechan was already preparing his best lie when Aurora walked back out with a backpack and a coat.

“You can’t because I’m going with you.” Aurora grabbed her keys while opening the door. She turned to Haechan who hadn’t moved, “You coming?” Still in shock, Haechan grabbed his jacket and followed the younger to the car waiting downstairs.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Haechan and Aurora stood in front of the mirror admiring their twin helix piercings. They both had simple studs with their birthstones embedded in. The whole time two were filled with nervous energy. The piercing specialist had them both sign the consent forms then explained what they had to do to take care of the piercing until it healed. 

The lady who did their piercings kept them talking. Before they knew it, the earring was thru the back of their ear with only a pinch of pain on Aurora's side. Haechan squealed at the unfamiliar intrusion (and yes Aurora does have footage. It was added to the Haechan oppa section of her blackmail folder). 

Haechan stared at the selfie the two maknaes took to commemorate the occasion. A smile on his face. Truth be told, Haechan was a little nervous. Getting a piercing had been an idea in the back of his head for a while. The more important events came up. First Mark graduated, then the original nct dream lineup had their last hurrah with the first tour that got canceled by the pandemic. Getting his ears piercing was the last thing he could think about

The certainty of 8Dream staying 8Dream allowed that thought to come back to forefront. For a long time he debated with himself, arguing the pros and cons until he just made an appointment. Haechan promised himself that if he didn’t go, He’d let the piercing idea go. Luckily for him, Aurora coming along gave him the courage to go ahead with it. 

Aurora grabbed his hand, bringing his attention back to the present, “Thanks for letting me come. I’ve always wanted a piercing.” 

“Thanks for coming with me. I would’ve chickened out if not for you.” Haechan pulled her into his side as the bright lights of Korean nightlife passed the car window. The van dropped them back off at the dormitory. The two let the excitement carry them to the front door. They didn’t even notice the living room light on.

An angry voice stopped them in their tracks, smiles dropping into expressions of fear.

“LEE DONGHYUCK!!! CHAE EUNJI!!! WHERE THE HELL DID YOU BOTH GO AT 3 O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING!!! WHEN TAEYONG FINDS OUT YOU BOTH ARE IN BIGGEST TROUBLE IMAGINABLE.” Haechan was frozen. Mark was using his leader's voice. That wasn’t good. Where Haechan was frozen. Aurora was laughing.

“I mean it's not like you can rip the piercing from our ears.” 

“PIERCING!!!”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Taglist - @alixnsuperstxr / @1-800-call-ria / @sophrodite

[mysticmannor]

Thursday, October 19, 2023

I’m at walmart with my mother. Walmart has rentable storage lockers in my dream, and you have to buy a certain amount of things to qualify to get one. I end up buying some guys stuff that he abandoned at the register, tossing back the frozen stuff that I can’t keep. Also there’s lottery tickets that I didn’t really want to buy but did anyway.

We get a fruit juice and head out to the storage lot, mom leaves somewhere in the car and I am nosing around in the biggest storage locker I’ve ever seen. I have lots of boxes and a big bed in it. There is a turn in the space, L shaped. the bed is not pressed against the wall, it’s laid up on the frame and the frame has made a hallway of sorts on the far back wall unseeable from the front of the storage room.

I’m piddling as a man walks into the space, he is threatening but I don’t understand why. He’s speaking slowly and calm. I am too but realize the situation is about to escalate. I can’t recall the words exchanged exactly.

He slides onto the bed, a gun in hand resting on the back of the bed frame, pointed at me in the makeshift hallway. I get closer to the pistol’s barrel and say “You’re not going to shoot me, you won’t get what you want.” He doesn’t flinch, speak or show any expression.

He pulls the chamber back. It holds, “you want to bet lady?” he says. “I guess I’m the gambling type today.” I fire back. He drops the chamber and cocks the gun again. I realize there’s no bullets in it now, he flounders to get it to hold this time.

I grab the pistol in my right hand, swinging my body over the left of the bed frame weight on his wrist. I grab the gun and dismantle it as he jumps up. I toss it on the ground in his direction, now to the right of the bed and in the view of the opening of the roll top door.

Before I can fully register it, he’s jumped on me and we are tussling. I pat my jeans looking for my handy knife, rolling over and over the floor he doesn’t see it. I pull his hurt right wrist back pinning him face down. His left arm underneath my crouched left leg, my right supporting his spine.

Instinctively I snatch his head by a fistful of hair in my left fist, releasing his poorly busted right arm I pop my switchblade out of my waistline. He’s cussing in an ugly language. Russian, German? Not sure, but you can tell it’s curses. I swiftly slice the meat of his neck as if it were a chicken breast in the walmart next door.

Gargling, my left fist pulls his wound deeper as his neck is forced backwards. His gasping slowing, I tell myself here as I’m breathing for the time time in minutes that I won’t look at his face. I try to think how this looks, why he was after me. I wonder if someone’s knew where he was.

I sit behind the bed frame, finding a flip. I know it will call 911 even without service. Should I call? It was self defense. Would they believe me? His dead body excreting fluid all over my storage room, I’ll lose the deposit. I spring up to haul his body outside the next door. I roll him over so that maybe most the blood would soak up in his clothes and not the pavement. I didn’t look at his face.

I go back to my safe space in the makeshift hall. I’m thinking do I call? Do I run? They’ll find security footage of me at walmart, in the storage lot at the time of death. They’ll find forensics all over the room. If I get caught up in the system, I’ll be busted for much more than a self defense case. As I’m thinking the options over, I hear someone rush my decisiveness.

A woman hollers outside, explaining the man is in a real bad way. Someone else is with her, I can barely see her head peering over the man in the far right view of the open door. Shit. No doubt now, I’m fucked. I quietly and quickly grab my go bag, in the chaos of them calling the cops from their car I escape to the main road.

The sun has gone down, and the sky is gray in color. I walk down the main road as cooling as possible, not looking into the oncoming traffic until nightfall. When it is pitch black, I start looking into backyards of the homes on the way of the road. I find a pretty one with a decent wooden gate. There’s a nice seating area around a long forgotten fire pit.

I climb over and rest a while. As the morning comes, the grayness returns in the skies. I walk over to a corner store that is not open yet. Across the lot of the gas station, a group of grungy people lay across large boulder rocks on blankets. Homeless, drug addicted and runaways chain smoking and drifting, I would blend in. I make my over and pull out a half smoked spliff, offering the group as they made room on the rock for me.

We waited for the store to open, all gathered supplies for the day and I borrowed a phone to reach out to a friend. She came to pick me up, and I showered at her place. I didn’t tell her anything, or her military husband. I took a spare bed or theirs. Recollecting my things, finally feeling like I could think a moment… the flip phone rings.

[captainstevenjohnstonme]

Bad Little Doggie.

What a perfect day.

The sun is shining and the birds are chirping happily up the trees.

Over the Christmas break I indulged in too much pudding and beer so I decide that today is the day to go to the Centennial Park in Sydney and jog along the paths whilst taking in the spectacular views.

I jump in my car and drive for about 20 minutes or so before arriving at my destination.

There are a lot of people out and about enjoying being in the fresh air instead of stuck at home listening to the relatives who have over stayed their welcome.

The manicured grass is adorned with lots of picnic blankets occupied by holidaymakers eating fried chicken and coleslaw while others play cricket or throw a frisbee around oblivious to their skin burning in the mid morning sun.

I take a seat and change into a pair of Nike runners that I got for Christmas.

The runners are supposed to make you feel like you are jogging on soft clouds but after jogging for 100 meters my feet are beginning to hurt and my expanded stomach is bouncing around like a huge bowl of jelly so I slow down to a stroll while at the same time pretending to be a world class athlete.

I hear yapping nearby and immediately my heart starts pumping overtime because even though I am a well built 20year old male who's enjoys playing rugby and mountain climbing I am ashamed to admit that I have had a hatred for dogs after I got bitten on the leg by a mates pet German shepherd when I was twelve years old.

When I round the bend I am confronted by a grey haired middle aged lady with a Chihuahua on a long lead.

The little mutt is the size of a guinea pig with soft eyes and brown about as harmless as said guinea pig so I take a big breath and approach the Chihuahua 'Mister I wouldn't get to close to Misty if I were you, she might look sweet and cuddly but Misty has won a blue ribbon for prize fighting on more than one occasion.'

'Prize fighting my arse' I mutter under my breath as I bend down holding out my hand for the dog to sniff 'Good little doggie' I say in greeting.

The lady pulls on the lead but it is too little too late.

The Chihuahua bites down on two of my fingers and begins to chew on them like they were two delicious chicken wings.

I am too stunned to move and can only watch as my two digits are severed and swallowed down.

People started to gather around to see what the commotion was about.

I was yelling for help holding my wounded hand to my side while blood began to pool at my feet.

Misty the manic mongrel had broken loose from its owner and had now clamped its teeth into the back of my left ankle shaking its head like it was at a heavy metal concert.

I sound of my Achilles tendon snapping was probably heard as far as the opera house but still the people did nothing but hold up their phones taking pictures and video for their own morbid pleasure.

As I lay slumped on the ground unable to move the owner of Misty the mongrel from hell walked over 'Mister leave Misty alone, can't you see she is hurting?'

Misty sat a few meters away from me with my blood all over its evil little face 'What are you talking about you stupid bitch, that is my blood on Cujo, so why don't you shut the fuck up and pick up your pet demon.'

One of the onlookers lowered his phone and told me that he had called the police and ambulance 'Even though it cost me some valuable footage.'

I didn't know is I should thank the prick or jump up and jam his phone where the sun refuses to shine but seeing that I want be doing much jumping in the foreseeable future I bite my tongue and wait for the ambo's to arrive.

A half hour later I arrive at the hospital where my wounds are treated than I am wheeled into a ward rolled onto a bed and told by a doctor that I will be having surgery to reattach my tendon and stitch my hand before infection has a chance to set in.

While the preop drugs start to take me off to pixie land I look out of the ward window and see the old lady and her Chihuahua looking back at me in amusement.

I can still feel the teeth ripping my fingers from my body and hear the snarls from the rabid beast.

Two weeks later I was released from the hospital with my physical injuries completely healed but my mental wounds I am still to overcome.

For six months I need the aid from a walking stick to get around and slowly but surely my mind is healed as best as it ever will be and I can't believe that I am saying this but I decide to get myself a pet but it sure as fuck won't be a dog.

At the pet store I wander around the cages holding lizards, snakes, rats, and a good assortment of birds and cats.

I walk out carrying a hold all case where inside sits a very contented Siamese cat that the owner of the store assured me was kind and gentle with a playful personality.

Pandora soon became part of the furniture running from room to room getting up to mischief.

I feed her a variety of food mainly beef chicken and fish and she seemed happy with my selection but a month after I brought her home Pandora went off her food and began to hiss and scratch at me for no reason that I could see.

The vet suggested that I feed Pandora a mixture of dry and wet cat food and he even gave me a few brands to try.

Pandora took to her new meals like a moth to a flame and I sigh in relief because I was starting to stress and have flashbacks to the day in the park when i was reduced to a quivering mess by Misty the Chihuahua from cuntland.

Pandora and I are now both happy with the new food schedule and life is beginning to look good but that soon went to hell in a handbasket.

It was a Tuesday evening around six o'clock and Pandora looked all set in for a nap after her meal and I leaned in to listen to her purr.

Her green eyes opened and without warning my she lashed out racking her claws down the left side of my face.

Sweet little Pandora now looked like a voodoo princess on meth and she lashed out again and this time she hit my right eye and I felt the eyeball turn to mush.

I feel the juices from my battered eye running down my face but I quickly come to my senses and dial triple 000.

I hold a towel to my eye while I wait for the ambulance to arrive and you wouldn't believe but the same two ambo's who treated after my first attack walk inside.

The older of the two recognizes me straight away 'What is it this time a goldfish?

'No it was a crazed cat thank you very much, now are we going to stand here talking all day?'

'Sorry sir' the other ambo says 'But and you can tell me to mind my own business if you want, but I really don't think that you are an animal person.'

'You think?' I scream back 'Now take me to hospital and I would appreciate it if both of you would stay completely silent or I am bound to lose my temper.'

My face took 36 stitches to repair and I lost my left eye and now i need to wear a patch until an prosthetic eye is fitted.

Now I am back at home with a new pet and I know you are all saying 'What in the fuck?'

But I can guarantee that this pet is completely harmless and doesn't need any feeding or taking outside to do its business because you see my new pet is a rock who I named Granite.

THE END.

[alostnarrator]

To Save Yourself- Chapter 7: Anger Issues (pt. 2)

Universe: 2012

Day: 3

Mikey hummed as he made himself more hot chocolate in Casey’s kitchen. The two dorks fast asleep on the couch didn’t stir hearing him move about. His hand hesitated over the cupboard, wondering if he could cook himself something. As much as he loved junk food, he craved something of real substance. He continued to just stand there with his hand hovering over the handle while he thought. Mikey heard Tesla mutter in his sleep and he made up his mind, he’d cook up a meal for the three of them.

Mikey found quickly that Casey’s kitchen was organized very simply, and he found the items he needed with ease. He made quick and quiet work of assessing the pantry and fridge; he grabbed what he deemed good and laid them out on the counter. Aside from onions, Mikey found all the ingredients he needed to make golden curry. He returned to his soft humming while the chicken defrosted in the microwave, and he washed the carrots and potatoes. 

It wasn’t long before Mikey was stir-frying the ingredients together. Lost in his own world he didn’t hear Tesla walking into the kitchen. 

“Michael? What’re you doing?” He yawned while drowsily rubbing at his eyes. Casey had plopped down at the kitchen table upon hearing food sizzle away in the pan. Mikey froze, worried they would be mad at him for helping himself to Casey’s kitchen. But no such words came, Tesla leaned on the archway into the kitchen, still halfway asleep.

“Smells good.” Casey huffed from the table, not thrilled with being woken up. Mikey grinned, happy to be cooking again. “Hey Casey?” He said over his shoulder, eyes glued to the cooking chicken. Casey hummed, not lifting his head from the table. “Do you have a rice cooker?” Casey groaned loudly as he dragged himself out of his chair, and pulled a rice cooker from behind some boxes in the pantry. 

“Thanks.” Mikey beamed as Casey went to die on the couch. Tesla shuffled into the kitchen behind Mikey’s slender frame to start the rice for him. Mikey thanked Tesla and emptied the cup of water into the pan, happily wiggling as he waited for the water to boil. 

Once bubbles shook the water he turned the stove down to a simmer, and covered the pan. Satisfied with the state of the curry, he sipped the remnants of his hot chocolate. Tesla was clacking away at his computer as Mikey sat next to him. “I’ve got a few minutes before I have to check on it…” He paused to sip at his drink, Tesla turned his head towards him but never took his eyes off the screen. “Wanna give me the intro to what you’re doin?” Mikey offered with a tilt of his empty mug. 

While Tesla gave him the rundown Casey went to get ready. Mikey motioned for him to keep talking while he finished working on the curry. Before long the mouthwatering aroma of their early lunch filled the apartment, luring Casey out and Tesla away from his work. 

They ate in silence, aside from their pleased hums no one felt obligated to start small talk.

It wasn’t until Casey had cleared the dishes, and Mikey started the dishwasher that Tesla finally broke the silence. 

“Michael. As you know I’ve been working on ways to send you home.” Conflicting feelings of fluttering hope and desperate pleas unsaid reared their heads in Mikey’s heart. “I’m getting close. My calculations are starting to stabilize… I think I even encountered signs of a signal reaching out for mine…” Tesla paused, words lingering on his lips as he stared out the window. 

“But?” Mikey offered, dreading whatever Catch 22 awaited him. 

“But… something is very wrong.” Tesla’s forehead furrowed, wrinkling in thought. He snatched the remote off the couch and flipped to a news channel. 

“Reports say people or things are disappearing from thin air.” The lady on screen wore a thoroughly distressed expression as a clip of footage played. On screen Tesla, Casey, and Mikey watched in silent horror as a pair of teens vanished while walking with their friends. The report buzzed into the background as Mikey slowly turned to Tesla. 

“You being here has messed up the flow of time… I think.” Mikey’s breath caught in his throat. “With you and my Mikey being displaced… people… reality is… struggling.” Tesla was at loss for the right words for once. 

“Mikey… you have to go home as soon as possible.” 

- - - - - - - -

Universe: 2012

Day: 3

POV: Raph

“ Yame .” Splinter’s voice stopped him again. This time Raph’s foot was in a weird position, causing him to collapse. The stout turtle flinched as the end of the cane came down loudly in front of his face. “You still aren’t thinking, Raphael.” Raph was yanked to his feet, Splinter scowled at him. “How will you protect your brothers if you can’t fight? Why must you fail at something so simple?” 

Raph glared at the tatami mat, he knew he wasn’t weak. His sensei was just being unfair with him. He wouldn’t get angry, he could control himself. “First you hurt Michelangelo, now you can’t even complete a simple training exercise.” Splinter placed his cane by the tree, and he moved into a fighting stance. 

Oh no… No. Not this again. There was no part of Raph that wanted to spend the next however long getting his shell handed to him. But it’s not like he ever got a say, Splinter’s traditional view on things took that away from him. Splinter seemed convinced hours of training would reshape Raph’s mind. He just wanted to go finish the sweater he was knitting, that would make him feel better. That would calm his mind.

He focused on that. Splinter twisted around to evade and retaliate, Raph predicted this. Hit after hit, they exchanged attacks tit for tat. Raph stayed calm, even as Splinter tested him, throwing insults his way. The hothead refused to be egged on. His tail whipped around and smacked Raph in the face, electric bolts of pain shot from his mouth down his spine. The hit landed squarely over his braces. 

Raph crumpled to the ground cradling his aching mouth in his hands. From the corner of his bleary eyes he noticed Splinter being to reach for him. But his thin hands hesitated, before retreating back into their normal folded stance. 

How much he longed for that though. A gentle touch from his Sensei, his father. Just once he’d like to be helped to his feet, and praised for his effort in one of these sessions. But that’s just a pipe dream, Raph supposed. 

“Yame.” Raph stilled, preparing for whatever came next. “That’s enough for today…” He hesitated, but ultimately ended up turning away. Raph barely so much as breathed until he saw those ornate doors close behind the rat. 

Despite the fight they had earlier, all Raph wanted was to sit in silence with his twin and knit. So he did the only thing he could think of. 

“Leo…?” He knocked quietly, his bag of yarn in one hand, Leo’s favorite drink in the other. He heard an angry muffled voice from inside, he was sure it said “fuck off-” or something of that effect. But Raph wouldn’t be dissuaded, he knocked again “Leo… please. Let’s talk.” He nearly begged, his forehead braced on the door. There was a sigh, and several moments of silence before the door cracked open. “ Just talk?” Leo’s voice was raspy, no doubt from the screaming match they got into. 

“Yeah. Just talking. No fighting. You were right… so so right.” Raph didn’t need to keep groveling as his twin’s door opened, revealing a very tired Leo.The door was left open as his sibling wordlessly flopped back down onto his bed.  Raph followed him in, silently sitting in the desk chair to start knitting. Leo didn’t comment, Raph focused on his project. The twins sat in silence, probably the best part of their day. Raph was almost finished with the second sleeve when Leo spoke up.

“So,” He didn’t bother looking over, both twins knew the other was listening, “I was right, huh?” When they had last spoken, Leo berated Raph for being so harsh when the news had been dropped. Sure, Leo had also chased Mikey, and put a few hits in; Raph was the one who did the most damage. Leo tried to reason with Raph, he said that even though this was a different Mikey, he was still their brother. Raph had a hard time accepting it during the argument. But the more he thought, the worse he felt. His needles sped up, needing to vent his emotions into his project. 

“Yeah. Like it or not… he’s still our bro… and we shouldn’t have reacted that way.” He laughed bitterly. “Fuck’s sake… what's wrong with us?” From the corner of his eye he saw Leo run a hand over his face. “Can’t argue with that. We really messed up, didn’t we?” They both sat there in the silence for a while longer. Leo leaned over to grab something from the chest at the foot of his bed. The blue masked turtle watched Raph cradle his jaw, and pulled out a piece of silicone covered in bite marks. Raph gladly took it, and chewed on it lightly to ease the ache in his teeth. 

Raph propped his foot on Leo’s bed, his stomach took on the ache his teeth had. Mikey’s betrayed face still haunted him, Raph couldn’t close his eyes without seeing that missing tooth or the rapidly forming bruises. Raph groaned into his hands, “We have to apologize…” He let his head slam backwards into the bed, “We can never make up for that… can we?” Now it was Leo’s turn sadly laugh, “Of course not. We don’t deserve his forgiveness… Why are we like this? Until we learned he wasn’t our real brother we still treated him like shit!” 

Raph’s hands clenched into fists. He knew what was wrong, every time he traced their problems back to the root he found the same conclusion. “It’s Sensei.” He grit his teeth, ready to hear Leo flip out, but was surprised to just hear a deep, suffered, sigh. 

“I know…” 

- - - - - - - - -

POV: Mikey (2018)

“I”M WHAT?!” Mikey flipped out, pacing back and forth about the room. 

Tesla held out his hands in a placating manner. “Look- Mikey, I’m cl-close to get… get-” Tesla breathed harshly, trying to gather his words, “Getting a stable connection. We just need to swap you- swap you guys back and everything will be fine for our timeline!” Mikey held his breath, realizing that it was now or never.

“About that…” Tesla and Casey eyed him suspiciously, “With how Raphael… Leo… heck even how Splinter your DAD treated me… treated all of you.” Mikey rubbed his arms to calm himself down.

“Michael… What are you saying?” Tesla’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“It’s not safe here for other me… For you! C… Come back with me Tesla.” Mikey couldn’t bear to witness Tesla’s reaction. Casey growled something under his breath and pulled Tesla away to discuss something in harsh whispers. 

“Casey you could come too! Hell- If you finish your calculations quickly enough, and we get enough time… Maybe Ben- your Mikey could snatch the things he wants and that could be that!” Sweat formed on his forehead as he nervously explained his idea. 

“M. You can’t really expect me- expect us to just… Drop everything and… Move to another universe?? I have a sister! A hockey scholarship lined up! And Tesla’s got his family here dude!” Casey yelled, waving his hands as to drive home his point. Mikey teared up for the umpteenth time since waking up in this world. He didn’t want to make anyone angry with him, he just wanted to help . 

He shouldn’t have assumed, he guessed. After all, they had their entire lives to live here. And if him leaving would fix everything, then maybe he just needed to bide his time until he could go. But damn if he wasn’t going to keep trying to convince them. Benny couldn’t come back to this… But in the end, it wasn’t up to him.

And Mikey was just going to have to be okay with whatever that meant in the end.

[fittish]

part 2!

For about half the walk Neal was sweltering, sweat pasting his shirt to his back. Then like a switch flipped he was freezing again, trembling to his core and resisting the urge to wrap his arms around himself.

Amid all this his head was swimming, he could barely focus on not running into anyone, and it finally occurred to him that this really wasn’t going to work.

He was in no shape to go undercover. He just had to tell Peter. Even though every aching bone in his body told him to keep hiding it, never betray any weakness, get the job done, that’s what he had always known. But he tried to fight the instinct, Peter wasn’t like that, this job wasn’t like that.

The van came into view, parked a little ways up from the cafe. Neal braced himself and climbed inside.

It was just Peter in there, focused intensely on a screen of security footage. He glanced up at Neal’s arrival.

“Hey, Neal. Thanks for coming in on a weekend. I just saw the suspect enter the building about two minutes ago. Sit down, I’ll get your wire.”

Neal opened his mouth, willing himself to get the words out. He was sick, too sick to do this. With a fever and aches and- and- he couldn’t make himself do it. Everything was getting hot again, his head spun and he sank down into a chair without saying anything.

Peter wheeled over to him, wire in hand. He looked like he was about to say something, but stopped when he actually got a good look at his CI. Various shades of suspicion and concern colored Peter’s features before soft realization won out.

“You’re sick.” It wasn’t a question.

Neal’s eyes flitted back and forth before meeting Peter’s. “Yes.” He sighed, eliciting a couple crackling coughs.

Peter didn’t say anything, just reached out a hand and pressed it against Neal’s forehead. It was soothingly cool against his hot skin, and Neal almost whimpered when Peter pulled away.

“Jesus, Neal, you’re on fire. Why’d you even come out here?”

“I wanted to solve the case. And you asked. I thought I could handle it, but…”

“But you’re sick as a dog,” Peter finished for him. The agent sat back, contemplating, before he spoke again.

“Okay, here’s the plan. Don’t worry about this guy, we’ll get him soon enough. I’ll drop you off at home, and return the van. Get my car, then come pick you up.”

Neal squinted at him. “Pick me up? For what?”

“To take you to my place. I just… want to keep an eye on you.”

“You can just check my ankl-“

“That’s not what I meant,” Peter interrupted, his expression serious. “That fever is no joke, Neal, and I doubt you even own a thermometer.” His eyes lightened slightly. “Plus, El makes the best chicken soup you’ll ever have.”

Even through his fevered daze, Neal could sense the genuine care and worry in Peter’s words, it made a strange feeling in his heart.

“….You don’t have to drop me off, I can walk,” Neal finally responded.

Peter let out half a chuckle. “Right. If you can make it to the other side of the van on your own, I’ll let you walk.”

Neal gave an indignant look, but as soon as he stood, black spots crowded his vision. He lilted forward, and Peter rose to catch him by the shoulders, letting the CI’s weight fall limp against him. It was only a second before Neal stirred, barely lifting his head to mumble, “Fine.”

Peter just hummed affirmative, setting Neal down in a seat before heading to the driver’s.

After Peter dropped him off, Neal did manage to get into the house on his own. Unable to convince himself to climb the stairs to his apartment, though, he landed in June’s sitting room instead.

Reclined on a small sofa, Neal hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep until he woke up to the feeling of another hand on his forehead. It was smaller and softer than Peter’s, and Neal pried his eyes open to see June’s worried face hovering over him.

Neal immediately slid back on the couch, trying to distance himself from her. He jerked a hand up to his face as a burning itch overwhelmed his nose.

“hhH’KSHhuh! huh! hhH’PPSCHhuh!”

“Oh Neal, bless you, sweetie.”

“Mmmh, June,” Neal croaked, “you should really stay away."

“You’re just like Byron, not letting anyone fuss,” she tutted, though at the sound of the doorbell she did move away, letting Peter in with a soft hello.

Neal felt sleep pulling at him again while he listened to them talk.

“Yes, I found him asleep right there, I don’t think he’s been upstairs.”

“Mhm. Thanks, June.”

Peter was crouching in front of him now, and Neal tried his best to keep his eyes open.

“Neal, hey, do you want anything from your apartment?”

Thinking felt out of reach, so Neal just shook his head.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Peter stood, offering a hand which Neal limply grabbed, letting himself be pulled to standing. A wave of dizziness overcame him, but once everything straightened, he was able to follow Peter out the door, waving a weak goodbye to June as he passed her.

Neal was barely aware through the ride to Peter’s house, though the familiar interior of the agent’s car was comforting. Peter was silent, and Neal tried to sleep again, but every bump in the road rattled his aching brain.

“Peter?” he rasped.

“Yeah?”

“Are Jones and Diana this sick?”

“Uh, no. You’re just special,” Peter replied lightheartedly, but Neal could see the concern overhanging his gaze.

Once they arrived, Neal took as deep a breath as he could manage before pulling himself up and out of the car, pleased when he didn’t black out. He followed Peter inside and couldn’t help but smile a little when he heard Elizabeth’s voice from the kitchen.

“Peter? I wasn’t sure if you’d be home, so I didn’t make you any lunch. I can- oh, Neal!” She had wandered over while talking, and stopped at the sight of Neal’s disheveled form.

“Hey, hon,” Peter greeted, stepping forward to give her a kiss. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but he’s really sick, and I wanted to keep an eye.”

“Oh! Yeah, I mean, of course.” She approached Neal with purpose, reaching up to cup his cheek and frowning at the heat she found.

“Well that’s no good. Neal, sweetie, do you think you could eat something?”

Neal just shook his head.

“Okay. Hon, will you help him upstairs? I need to gather some supplies.”

Peter had to grin at his wife’s endless compassion. “Of course.”

Neal made it up the stairs on his own, but it sapped the very last of any energy he had left. He breathed hard at the top, devolving into a coughing fit that tore at his already wrecked throat. Peter rubbed his back through it, and kept a hand there to lead him to the master bedroom.

Once there, Peter deposited him on the bed and turned to dig in the dresser beside it. He faced Neal again, a pair of flannel pajama pants and a well-worn FBI sweatshirt in hand.

“I know it’s not your usual fancy digs, but these are the comfiest clothes I’ve got.”

If he were feeling slightly more like himself, Neal would have scoffed at the idea of wearing Peter’s cozy pajamas. As it was, though, he just wanted desperately to take his suit off and go the hell to sleep, so he held out his hands.

Peter handed him the clothes with a satisfied grin.

“I’ll leave you to it. Try not to pass out again, huh?”

Neal made an indistinct noise in response, already tugging off his tie.

By the time Peter knocked on the door, he received a hoarse “come in” and entered to see Neal stood in front of the mirror, absolutely swimming in Peter’s oversized crewneck. Elizabeth followed him in with an armful of supplies.

“Neal, sweetie, please sit down! Make yourself comfortable.”

Neal looked at them in bleary confusion. “This is your bed. I- I can stay on the couch.”

Elizabeth clicked her tongue. “Oh please Neal, I insist. You need some quality rest, and for that you need to sleep in a bed.”

Neal blinked at her but complied, sinking down onto the edge of the bed while El set down everything she had brought. Peter just watched, unsure of what to do now that El had gone full mother hen.

Neal watched her with glazed over eyes, sniffling lightly. Elizabeth pulled a thermometer from her pile and gently placed it in Neal’s mouth.

He had the fuzzy thought that if he were more with it he’d probably feel incredibly awkward, sat in El and Peter’s bed while they hovered over him. As it was, he only felt exhausted. He sat quietly until the thermometer beeped, letting El take it back and watching her expression darken at the readout.

“103, Neal? Lie down, now please. Hon, will you get a wet washcloth?”

Peter nodded and disappeared into the ensuite. El offered a hand and helped Neal stand so she could pull back the covers, gesturing for Neal to get in. He did so, his body feeling so heavy he basically just fell in, letting his eyes close while Elizabeth adjusted the blankets around him.

Peter returned, handing off the washcloth for El to place it gently across his CI’s burning forehead. Neal groaned quietly, but didn’t open his eyes, and his breathing seemed to slow and relax. Peter and El shared a look before creeping out of the room, closing the door most of the way.

“Oh, shit,” El said in a low voice, “I didn’t give him any fever reducers.”

“It’s okay, let’s just let him sleep,” Peter responded, “If it hasn’t gone down in a couple hours, then we drug him.”

El gave an amused smile, though worry still dominated her soft features.

“Okay,” she sighed, then stretched up to kiss her husband. “Come on, let’s have some lunch.”

untitled neal suffering

sooo i’ve had this 90% written for like two years at this point, and i’m finally satisfied enough to post it. this is part 1, more will come almost immediately i just wanted to break it up a bit. enjoy!!

Thursday

Peter’s team was a tight knit group, almost a family. It was honestly one of the things Neal loved most about his job, even if their closeness sometimes led to less than stellar situations.

When Diana had sneezed once in the elevator down to the van, she quickly brushed it off as nothing.

It was more than nothing now, if the sudden blessings from Peter ringing in his earpiece were any indication.

“Gesundheit.” A long pause. Neal was barely paying attention to the store he was meant to be casing, straining to hear the conversation going on in the van.

“Yeah, we can handle this. Go home.”

Looking out the window across the street, Neal smirked as he watched Diana hop out the back of the van. She got a few steps away before clearly bending with the force of a sneeze caught into her cupped hands.

As he watched her sneeze again before walking away, he felt a brief sympathetic itch in his nose. He gave it a firm rub, taking a deep breath and getting back into character as George Price.

The rest of the day was uneventful, though after dinner there was a scratchiness lingering in his throat that several cups of water didn’t wash away. He went to bed early, hoping to stomp any buds of illness before they took root.

***

Friday

Neal woke up feeling like he hadn’t slept at all. His head and throat ached, and when he tried to draw a breath it whistled stuffily through his nostrils, sending a tickle cascading through them.

“Hih’kSSH!” He caught the quiet sneeze in his folded fingers with practiced precision, then pinched his nose against the lingering irritation.

Standing felt like a monumental task, but once he was up Neal was pleasantly surprised to see he didn’t look half as bad as he felt, maybe a touch pale.

Getting dressed actually made him feel somewhat better, more alert at least, even though his collar and tie felt slightly suffocating against his sore throat. He downed a glass of water, not finding any appetite for breakfast, and headed to the office.

Stepping off the elevator, Neal noted Diana was nowhere in sight, still out for the count then. He tried to sniff inconspicuously, fighting with the growing itch in his nose. His cause wasn’t helped when he saw Jones turn away from his desk and into his elbow, mostly muffling a violent sneeze.

“HWRRFSSSH!”

“Not you too,” Neal offered as he approached with a sympathetic smirk, willing his own nose not to betray him.

Jones brushed him off with a flick of his hand. “I’ll be alright, we need the manpower on this case. I told Peter I’d go home if I needed to.”

Neal just nodded, turning back to go to his own desk, scrubbing briefly at his nose.

By the time Jones went home a few hours later, coughing often enough to agree he was distracting more than helping, Neal was barely holding on to his veneer of health.

An uncomfortable, itchy fullness consumed his nose, and his whole body was starting to ache. His head was swimming, and he wondered if he wasn’t getting feverish. He still wasn’t looking too bad, from his brief assessments in the bathroom mirror when he hid there to blow his nose. He pointedly avoided Peter anyway, determined to stay undetected and on the case after they’d lost two agents already.

He made it through the day apparently without raising Peter’s suspicion. He was immensely grateful it had been a stay in the office, pore over paperwork kind of day, as he had zero energy for fieldwork and suspected his voice would give him away before long. With that in mind he kept his goodbye to Peter as short as possible, turning down a ride home and leaving as fast as he could still make seem casual.

His nose started to drip and itch in the stuffy elevator, and he cursed the fact there were other people riding with him, or he would have let himself sneeze. As it was he held it back, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth and taking shallow, careful breaths. When the doors finally opened, he rushed to get out of the building, where the cold sting of fresh air and the holding back combined to overwhelm him. His face fell into his steepled hands as a mess of overdue sneezes forced their way out.

“heh’TSsh! huh’tTCH! hH’PSSch! -tSSch! -kSSChh! hH’ESCHSschuh!”

Thoroughly disgusted and embarrassed, Neal reluctantly tugged his silk pocket square from its place, wiping his moistened hands and upper lip before shoving it in his back pocket and striding away. Luckily, it seemed like all the FBI agents streaming out the doors were far more interested in getting home than paying any mind to Neal’s display.

***

Getting home took any remaining wind out of Neal’s sails, and finally walking through June’s door was an enormous relief. He hurried upstairs, not inclined to share his burgeoning illness with his sweet landlady.

Once in his apartment, Neal took off his shoes and tie as fast as he could as he beelined for his bed. As he disrobed the rest of the way, a glance in the mirror told him he was definitely looking worse for wear now. He pointedly averted his gaze and collapsed into bed, not caring that it wasn’t even 6pm.

Sleep came quickly with the promising thought that he had nothing to do for the weekend, he could just sleep this sickness away.

***

Saturday

It was especially upsetting, then, when Neal woke with a start to the shrill tone of his phone ringing. Grabbing at it, he blearily made out Peter’s name and the time: 9:13am. He groaned and answered it.

“Hm?” His voice was strained and hoarse, he fought the urge to cough.

By contrast, Peter’s voice sounded strong and clear. “Neal. Sorry if I woke you, but it’s important. I just got word that our suspect is attending a brunch downtown. If we catch him there, we just might be able to close this case early. But we’d have to send you in. Are you game?”

Neal rubbed at his eyes with his free hand, weighing his options. He felt much worse than he had yesterday, head heavy and nose completely blocked, almost definitely feverish. But the idea of finishing the case early and the subtle trill of excitement in Peter’s voice made him push it all aside.

He covered the mic on the phone for a second, clearing his throat forcefully.

“I’m game.”

“Great.” Neal could hear the smile in Peter’s voice and couldn’t help but smirk himself. “It’s not too far from you, Cafe Lune, meet me there at 10.”

“Ok.” Neal hung up without another word, suddenly unable to hold back a couplet of itchy sneezes.

“hih’TSSChh! -k’tSSCH! Uhh…”

Reluctantly he slid out of bed and immediately found himself freezing. He shivered his way to the shower, and though the hot water felt amazing at first, after just a couple minutes he started to get lightheaded. Even after getting out and drying off, the dizzy, overheated feeling followed him, and he started to sweat as he buttoned his shirt and pulled on his slacks.

After getting dressed and forcing down a slice of toast, Neal felt… just as awful as before. The shower had cleared his breathing somewhat, but outwardly he looked a mess. Shadows hung under his eyes, his cheeks were flushed, and despite all his effort, he just couldn’t hold himself with the same casual confidence that was usually second nature to him.

A brief look at his watch had Neal sighing, tightening his tie, and setting out for the cafe.

[hitmewithabusposts]

hiii maybe hcs for a jackass pool party? like johnny taking you and showing you off or smth?

Yes 🫶🙌

Pool with the guys HC’s

Johnny

Definitely wouldn’t take his eyes off you when he saw you in your swimsuit

Or his hands

“Isn’t she so beautiful?” he’d say talking to the guys, distracted by you lounging on a pool chair.

Making you be his partner in a game of chicken against the other guys and their girls

“Are you sure you don’t need help rubbing that tanning oil on sweetheart? I think you’re missing a spot you should really let me help you”

If he noticed another guy staring at you, he’d be right back beside you, a hand on your waist kissing up on your neck.

Stealing sips of your drink, even tho he had a beer of his own.

Steveo

“Wow babe, you look amazing” he’d tell you when you’d show him your swimsuit.

Lounging on pool floats together

Until the guys would want to splash you guys, then that’s when you two got competitive

You’d team up, throwing buckets of water on the others when they weren’t expecting it, always keeping water guns in your cars during the summer as well

Champions at pool games. That’s all.

“Can you two stop making out on that innertube and grab us more beers?” One of the guys would ask, making everyone laugh including you and Steveo

Ryan

He’d remind you to grab sunglasses before you left, but you’d insist you wouldn’t need them. He’d end up forcing you to take his after watching you squint into the sun for half an hour

“God I’m lucky” he’d say when you’d walk out of the house, revealing your swimsuit.

Holding hands while you guys floated on two separate pool floats

Would start a game of poolside cornhole or beer pong, always being partners

Using his tee shirt as a swimsuit cover when you guys got out of the pool

Putting aloe on your sunburn at the end of the day, “this looks like it hurts baby :(“

Bam

Pushes you in the pool, for sure

“You look sexy babe, that looks amazing on you” when you showed him your swimsuit

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his middle so he can hold you out in the water

Dares you to do stunts into the pool, like flips, riding your board into the pool, anything dumb really

But sometimes this would get good footage when Lance was there with the camera.

“I won’t push you in if you give me a kiss” he’d say, holding your waist as you dangled over the edge, just getting done drying off. “Fuck you” you’d laugh, refusing to give in as you felt the cool water hit your body again

“Help me out at least babe” you’d say, as he’d offer his hand to pull you out, but you’d just pull him right in with you, and he’d come up and kiss you, both of you back in the water.

Pontius

Definitely would get swim trunks to match your swimsuit

Try to get you to wear matching beach hats with him (he’d give you those big ole eyes and say ‘please’ and you couldn’t say no)

“I don’t think you can go to the party in that swimsuit babe” he’d say when you walked out in it before leaving. “Why not?” “Because I wouldn’t be the best looking there anymore” he joked, making you throw your towel at his head.

He’d make an awesome pool party mixtape

Flipping you off your float in the pool, swimming away giggling

Sitting with you in his lap around the bonfire that night with the guys, making s’mores and resting his head on your shoulder to talk to everyone else, occasionally turning his head to kiss your cheek or shoulder

[seraphtrevs]

Do you think Ben America was all Lalo or was it all acting? He styles his hair different, his outfit didn't seem like something he'd wear at a formal gathering in his real life. But to Mrs. Ziegler this character worked perfectly though to the viewers we could see right through it

It was all acting. I've said it before and I'll say it again, but Tony did such an amazing job with this because he makes Lalo bad at acting, but not so bad that it's unbelievable that some people would fall for it. I imagine that's a difficult line to walk as an actor.

Lalo is a very intelligent sociopath. He's really good at reading people and understanding their motivations, but he doesn't have the same sorts of feelings normal people have, which is why he comes across as hollow when mimics them And in Lalo's defense, the times we've seen his acting fail had other factors that made him less likely to succeed. Fred the Travelwire guy just had a strange encounter with Mike, who is a fantastic actor, but as soon as he was out from under Mike's spell, he started reflecting on how weird that whole situation was. So when Lalo shows up and asks about the exact same person that Mike was asking about, of course Fred is suspicious. Even if Lalo had given an Emmy-worthy performance, I still don't think he would have been able to convince Fred to show him the video footage. And Casper was literally hiding in the woods because he was scared to death that he was going to be murdered by criminals for knowing too much, so of course he immediately clocks Lalo as a threat, even though he was initially friendly (also, I think he recognized him? They did meet briefly when Gus showed Bolsa and Lalo the "chicken cooler"). And while Lalo could not for his life pull off "scared" for the judge at his bail hearing, he was at least able to mask what a freak he was enough that the judge granted him bail. Back to Margarethe - there is literally no reason for her to find Lalo suspicious. His seduction is successful because he makes sure their conversation revolves around her, which is part of why she found it so sexy. It's very flattering to have an attractive person hang on your every word. Lalo was confident he could seduce her because he knew how to give her exactly what she wanted. You don't have to be completely convincing if you're playing into what people want to believe

[abbatoirablaze]

The Debauchery Of Captain America, Chapter 16

Word Count:  770

Steve’s heart shattered as he watched and re-watched the footage from the day that he left you at the cabin. You watched him with such sadness as he ran out and off to save the world.  And while he hadn’t thought of it until he returned, after your actual anniversary, he knew that it must have hurt you.

Which is why he sat himself down and had Friday pull up the footage. 

Your brave face fell away the second that the quinjet was gone.  He’d heard the engines rev for liftoff, and then silence. 

And then you broke down in tears in the middle of the canvas.  You sat there, crying for a few hours, before you finally got up and closed the door. 

Then you moved, almost like a robot and washed the paint off yourself, cleaned up the cabin, and left. 

Steve’s jaw clenched. 

He knew that you were back at your place.  You hadn’t come to the tower, and he knew that there was only one place you would go.  Your apartment.

But he was too chicken to go and see you. 

He’d asked Bucky…Sam…even Tony for their advice.  And Tony’s was the one that he took to heart.

“Listen, capsicle, I understand that you and the future M.R.S. actually missed your anniversary…but that’s a side to our lifestyle…and all of our special women go through it,” he sighed sadly, looking through the glass walls to see Pepper actively talking to someone while bouncing Morgan on her hip, “you know…I’ve missed so many milestones in their lives…and Pepper walked out once, early in our relationship.  I’m sure that you remember it.  And Thor and Jane didn’t work out, because she didn’t know if she would be able to handle the superhero thing…its something that all of us have to deal with at one point or another when we find our person.”

“B-but what do I do, Tony?”

“You’ve got to talk to her, Cap…Pepper and I had a long conversation…she knows that I’ll never entirely have a foot out of the Avengers…just like I know you’ll never have one entirely out…she needs to be aware of that…we all know that you’re talking about retiring.  But guys like us don’t retire and play a round of golf at the country club at the end of the day.”

“But I’m handing the shield off to Sam…”

“Steve…guys like us only have one retirement plan…and it’s not handing the suit or the shield off to someone…you know the only time it ever really leaves us alone…”

Steve took a deep breath, knowing that deep down in his heart, Tony was right. 

“What if she leaves me Tony?”

“Love finds a way, Rogers,” Tony said softly as Pepper looked at him at just the right moment.  Steve watched Tony and Pepper; watched how she grabbed Morgan’s hand and had the toddler wave at him, both of his girls giggling.  Tony smiled softly, his own hand lifting enough to wave back to them, “I do it for them, though…they both know that.  I’m never going to retire the suit, Steve…not until Morgan or Pepper is ready to take it on.”

A few tears slipped down Steve’s cheeks as he replayed the footage, watching his fiance walk  out of the cabin with her bags in tow.  She loaded herself into the car and drove off the property.

“You know you could just go visit her…”

Steve looked beside himself to see his best friend, and he scoffed, “yeah….and say what?  Sorry I ruined our anniversary, but the world was ending?”

“(Y/N) is reasonable, Steve…it’s not like she doesn’t know that you’re Captain America.”

“She cried for an hour and a half when I left…before she even bothered to clean herself up and leave the cabin,” Steve sighed to himself, “what if she realized right there that I’ll never be fully out?  What if she realized she said yes to me only to figure out first-hand that she’ll never truly be at the top of the list?  That even if we have kids and a future…that my first calling will always be to jump on the quinjet if there’s trouble.”

“Steve…you need to talk to your fiance…” Bucky sighed, putting his hand on his best friend’s shoulder, “you can’t just avoid her…she knows the trouble is over…the longer you wait…the more she’s going to think something is wrong.”

“It is wrong, Buck…”

“Is it?” he asked, looking at his friend, “or is it that you want there to be so that you don’t have to feel guilty about leaving?”

“Buck…”

“Talk to her, Steve.”

Chapter 17

Tag List:  @lohnes16, @sebsgirl71479, @melissad1974, @whiskeytangofoxtrot555, @wintasssoldier, @tenaciousperfectionunknown

[rhinozilla]

I’m a dumbass (affectionate). Here’s today’s example.

So on the way home from work I made an impromptu trip to the local grocery store to pick up a few things to make buffalo chicken dip tonight, because I was having an intense craving for it. I park right up in the front row, and I walk past a car that looks similar to mine, but I have buffalo chicken on the brain, so I don’t retain any of that observation (foreshadowing).

I go in, grab only what I need, and check out. I come outside, open (what I think is) my driver’s side door, and the door pops. Like “something wrong with the hinge” pops. I close the door and take a step back and look at it. The entire driver’s side fender on (what I think is) my car has been scraped and bashed in, extending all the way to the door, hence the popping.

Now, back in November a semi backed into my car while I was in it, and it took until literally May to get parts in and get my car fixed. So I’m staring at this damage and thinking “are you FUCKING serious? I JUST got my car fixed.” I walk right back into the grocery store and speak to the manager there, tell him I think someone scraped up my car while backing out, and request them to review the security footage.

They pull up the footage, navigate around to the time stamp and...I see (what I think is) my car pull up with the pre-existing scrape/bash damage, and some stranger gets out of (what is clearly their, not my) car. I immediately realized that I had mistaken their car for mine. I hadn’t gotten any farther than opening the car door and hearing that pop. If I had taken one tenth of another second to assess, I would have noticed the different interior, license plates, etc.

We reach the point in the footage where you see my dumb ass walk out, open the door, pause, stare at the damage, turn in a confused circle, dramatically sigh, and then waddle back into the store.

ANYWAY. So I point this out, and the manager walks out with me to make sure that my actual car is okay. Sure as shit, my car is parked literally two spots down from this other car, untouched. In my defense, it is identical in color, make, and model. Against my defense, it had distinctive bumper stickers and the damage was clearly rusted and did not happen that day.

We laugh at the misunderstanding and averted crisis. I apologize for taking up the manager’s time, and I leave.

So I’m currently riding the high of an emotional whiplash...from “woohoo buffalo chicken!” to “WTF is that sound?” to “oh, you’ve got to be FUCKING KIDDING me” to “dammit, I JUST FIXED THIS. Now I’m going to have to file a police report and do this all fucking over again” to “Oh...I may be stupid” to “oh thank god, what a relief” to “woohoo buffalo chicken!”

If had a nickel for every time I’d mistaken a stranger’s car for mine in a parking lot to the point of nearly getting inside it, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that’s happened twice now.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Okay for supernatural/demon lads and ghosthunting MC though.... imagine one of their haunted house sleepovers. The guys torn between scaring off the actual hauntings and *also* liking the way MC snuggles up close when spooky sounds and blips on her camera/sound equipment/etc happen.... Maybe a ouija board session at the witching hour where some narc ghost tries to warn her about three demons clinging to her >:Dc

WAAA omg. omg. omg this gave me an idea i had to-

“... The collapse of the roof in 1755 crushed 4 residents of the asylum.” You were deliberately using your spookiest voice, drained of all but the bare essentials of emotion to get the point across, flashlight in hand. “Since the accident they’ve cleared the damage and fixed the ceiling... but some say the spirits of those killed still wander the halls today, trapped not by rubble... but by the pain that binds their energy to this location.” 

You were still amazed at how steadily Skull could hold a camera. Whenever you looked through footage, even the stuff taken when he was walking, it was as if you had it on a professional electronic rig... you honestly had no idea what you’d do without him. It was pretty damn cold in the building, as it was completely derelict and abandoned, with no windows to furnishings to retain heat- only the concrete foundations remained.

“Visitors to the site have reported tapping on the walls, footsteps, shadows in the corridors, and the smell of brick dus-”

At the sound of tapping very nearby on the old plaster asylum wall, you spun around in shock, shining your flashlight...

... On Red, who was grinning like a bastard, rapping his phalanges on the wall.

“... s’pretty sturdy for an old ass wall.” He purred, pulling an ‘innocent’ face and putting his hand back in his pocket.

“hearing creaks and smelling dust in an old building.” Sans said, with his usual unbothered smile, like all this was just a bad haunted house attraction. “shocking. must be ghosts.”

“Oh, sure, act smug now, you’ll be apologising later when I get paranormal activity on camera.” You mumbled, deliberately shining the light into his face for a moment. You removed your spirit box from your pocket, ignoring the little joking vampire-like hissing sound he made.

The spirit box was your prized possession, your favourite method of communicating with spirits. It was a small black device that somewhat resembled an old walkie talkie; its purpose was to rapidly cycle between radio stations, producing static noise that ghosts could communicate directly with you through. It sounded sharp and horrible and always made the ugliest jittering sound, but even just holding it in your hands made you feel more and more excited.

“... I’ve got a device in my hand.” You said, addressing the room, the building... this was the part you never got over. The part where you spoke directly into the darkness that somehow seemed both smoggy and veil-thin, the part where you could almost feel the unseen eyes in the area turn to you. A shiver ran up your spine... you were certain that if you weren’t flanked by the comforting presences of Sans, Red and Skull, you’d chicken out before you could capture any video. “It’s going to play static that’ll allow you to communicate with us. If you want to, please speak, tell us what happened here.”

“geez. i hate this thing...

... You turned it on. Sans pulled a face, but didn’t make any of his usual complaints, which you appreciated. You stood there, waiting, all four of you staring at the device in your hand... it usually took a little while for something to come through so you weren’t expecting-

“ - - D E M O - N S -”

It blurted out of the box, clear as day, the clearest voice you’d ever heard coming from the box with only a slight jitter from the skipping. It sounded like a man. You jumped, your chest and your eyes widening- “Oh my God... I- what did it say? Did you say demons?”

“- E M O N S - - - I - N - -”

Your hands were shaking- he repeated it. Your full attention was on the box now, your heart was starting to pound. “There are demons here? In the building?”

“- YES-”

It was the same voice, giving you clear replies! This was huge! You couldn’t believe it! You were holding the box like it was a winning lottery ticket, just about losing your mind. “What’s your name? Tell me your name.”

“- -  PLE A S E -” 

You didn’t see the expressions on the guys’ faces. You didn’t notice Red and Sans slip away into the dark, too exhilarated to be expecting their usual cutthroat humour and cynicism.

"Where are the demons? Are they in the building? Can you tell me where they are?”

Something came through the box, but it was too mangled by the static, too impossible to make out. “What did you say? Say that again!”

“- W - - TH -” It was like something was interfering with the transmission. “W I T H - Y O U.”

... What?

“... With me?”

“ T H E - S K E L E T - ”

... It turned off.

...

Everything turned off. Your fully charged torch went dead, Skull’s torch went dead, the camera's lights blinked out. Suddenly, all the noise in the world had vanished... it was so, so deafeningly quiet...

... and the only light was Skull’s blood red iris, staring at you.

...

“... All the stuff just...” 

... You looked around the room, trying to see something in the murky darkness, as if searching the shadows for a reason for the sudden powercut to all your individual devices at once.

“... something wrong?” Skull asked. 

His voice was incredibly gentle.

... It was as if a cloud descended over your mind. Suddenly, just like that, you felt like you’d been plunged into a dream. Nothing seemed... real. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t process... a horrible wave of dizziness accompanied the cloud, creeping over you, prickling at your temples and muddying everything that was going in and out of your brain.

“I-I...” You stopped being able to feel your hands or your death grip on the useless flashlight. The pitch black room was beginning to spin, slowly... “I don’t...”

“hm?” 

“Where’s...” Your eyes were darting about. Pounding head, like it’d been stuffed full of cotton... your lips weighed too much, it was hard to speak. “Where... Sans... Red...?”

“... shh... it’s okay.” 

A big hand softly closed over yours. You knew Skull had big hands, that was something you loved about him... but the one that held you was huge. Your tiny appendage was swallowed whole by thick bones with long, cruel claws... it felt like him, but it didn’t... feel like him...

... What’s going on? Where am I?

... The hand gently led you closer, easily moving you like you were little more than a confused child. His eyelight was in view... his huge, red eyelight... your own eyes were stinging, strained, wide and afraid. The other hand moved close to you but you didn’t even have the presence of mind to flinch as it gently brushed hair out of your face... you just stared up into the eyelight.

He had horns. Skull’s silhouette had huge, curved horns.

“it’s alright.” He murmured, cupping you like a precious baby bird. His voice had become distorted, warped... and even in your state of delirium, you were certain it wasn’t from the headache. “you’re with me. you can let go.” 

The dizziness was becoming too much to bear. You couldn’t even focus on his iris anymore, you couldn’t see, you were either going to pass out or be sick. The distant sound of your flashlight hitting the floor... You pressed your eyes shut to relieve the aching, and tried to say something, but it was just a bleary mumble...

“that’s it.” He purred, the hand holding yours instead moving to your back to support your swaying body. You couldn’t open your eyes again... you didn’t want to. It felt so much nicer closed, the discomfort was muffled. “don’t need fight. none of this... ever happened.”

... You were vaguely aware of him catching your tipping body and scooping you up into his arms before everything went completely dark.

[darkisrising]

81 and 14 for din/boba/luke?

Hello anon! Sorry for the delay! As requested, here's a little trope mash-up for you, I hope you like it! Thanks for playing :-) Prompt: Bobadinluke 81. The Missus and the Ex 14. Bodyguard AU

Death threats start piling up for Leia, though it isn’t a surprise. Not with a senatorial campaign announced and the Organa name back in the news for the first time since “The Incident."

"The Incident" which had somehow, indelibly, publicly linked the Organa name with a Skywalker secret twin. "The Incident" which had ended with Leia’s then-boyfriend, now-husband knocking— throwing? depending on what conspiratorial corners of the internet you frequent and what angle of the cell footage you’re partial to linking to— Luke’s then-boyfriend into a thirty-foot pit.

The boyfriend had lived, but it was a near thing, or so Din had been told. Their relationship hadn’t lasted much longer after that.

“But now there’s you,” Luke said one time when the subject had come up. Crawling into Din’s lap, wrapping his arms around Din’s neck, he'd smiled. “Just don’t go around uncovered pits with Han and you should be fine.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Din rumbled between kisses as he’d splayed Luke’s lower back with one palm and pulled him in closer.

Since Din stays away from both the news and social media religiously, he'd mostly put the ex and the pit out of his mind after that. Life went on. He and Luke get serious, and then after six months of fitting their lives around each other— weekend lunches at the garage where Din eats with greased-up overalls while Luke steals his fries, morning coffees sipped together as a bleary Luke collects his spill of graded papers from the kitchen table— they get serious.

Din buys a ring and Luke cries with happiness. They pick a date— after the election, but before the new school year starts up again— and after that the biggest drama is whether the dry cleaner will find Din’s lost suit before Leia’s fundraising dinner or whether he’ll be forced to buy a new one.

That is until the day Din goes to grab the mail expecting bills and finds instead a note that's been painstakingly assembled with tiny magazine letters to read: “YouLL b DeAd B4 yOuR iN THe piT skYwLkR.”

For Din’s money, he’s betting it’s the ex. Luke doesn’t agree.

“How can you be sure?”

“For one thing, Boba knows the difference between possessive your and you-are you’re.” Luke smirks, amused, and it’s like he isn’t even worried about threatening letters being sent to their home. “I’m sure it’s the same person harassing Leia. Now that everyone knows I’m her brother, it’s probably connected.”

“Hm,” Din says, unconvinced, and Luke takes his hand between both of his and gives it a squeeze.

“But if it’ll make you feel better I can ask around. Find out what Boba’s up to these days. If I hear he’s got photos of me all over his walls with the eyes cut out or something we can start to worry.”

Which is how it happens that Din comes down the stairs in his new, sharp-edged suit, as ready as he can be for this fundraiser of Leia’s, to find a very large, scarred, bald man in their living room. A very large, scarred, bald man that is also wearing a suit, and Luke smiles over at Din, nice and sunny and says “You look amazing,” before introducing him to Boba.

They shake their greeting and Din half expects the ex to try some kind of macho, dominance move and squeeze the shit out of his hand but he doesn’t. His brown eyes take in Din with an open, frank assessment and when Boba says “Good to meet you,” they both know he’s lying.

“Boba’s got a bodyguarding business now!”

“Personal protective services. But, yeah, amounts to the same thing.” The smile he throws over his shoulder to Luke is unbearably fond and Din, who has never once had a possessive or jealous thought about a lover in his life, feels his hands curl into fists at his side. “When I heard about the death threats I offered my professional services.”

“Death threat. Singular,” Din finds himself correcting, even though up until this moment he’d been the one complaining that Luke wasn’t taking it seriously enough. “That’s kind of you but I’m sure you have more important people to—”

“More important than Sunshine? Nah,” he says and Luke beams, as devastatingly bright as his ex’s nickname for him and Din frowns. “Anyway, I thought I’d tag along at this fundraiser, see if anyone suspicious shows.”

“I’m sure all you’ll find there is dry chicken and even drier politicians, but I know Din will be glad to know there’s someone keeping an eye on me.”

“Oh, I won’t take my eyes off you all night,” Boba assures, and yet he’s looking at Din when he says it. “Especially in this suit. You look good, Sunshine.”

“And you don’t look so bad yourself.” Luke doesn’t sound like he’s flirting. He sounds exactly like he’s talking to Han or Leia or anyone else that he’d rather die than make a pass at, and yet Din can’t help but read more into that friendly, bantering tone. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit before.”

Boba snorts. “This suit? It’s so old it might have belonged to my father.”

“Well you wear it well,” Luke says and then turns to Din. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Din says and he lets Luke take his hand and lead him out to the car.

He’s all-too aware of Boba’s steady, dark eyes on them as they walk on ahead, and Din’s now not sure he’s the one sending death threats, but he is sure of one thing: if Boba’s not planning on killing Luke, he’s planning on fucking him.

Either way, Din’s going to have to stay vigilant since it’s becoming clear that, when it comes down to it, Luke has a blind spot the size of Boba-fucking-Fett on his radar.