#apparently I was full of thoughts but forgot to publish

[the-moon-loves-the-sea]

It took me a while to notice that the Encanto gramma predicates them “deserving” the miracle (survivor’s guilt there) on them using their gifts for everyone who asks for help, all day, no rest, and tries to make sure no one in the town ever feels alone or unprotected, but not only is that making the kids feel exhausted and inauthentic and unseen; it’s also making her unable to deal with reality (the miracle faltering); and it’s also probably the reason Bruno felt like his gift was hurting everyone, bc it made the villagers really uncomfortable. At first the way “we don’t talk about Bruno” presents him made me think he was walking around telling people bad news unasked, but then he says everyone kept asking him, they just didn’t like the answers. So the town feeling unsafe around him made abeula feel like they were failing them.

And! The way Pepa tells her part of the song makes it sound like everything was sunshine at the wedding until he said what he said. But her husband corrects her “there wasn’t a cloud in the sky” to “no clouds ALLOWED in the sky.” And then at the end Bruno said “I could see that you were stressing,” which presumably means she did already have a little cloud when he showed up. But every time Pepa shows a cloud Abuela yells at her. She’s even dressed all in yellow with sun earrings, she’s trying to hard to stay sunny for Abuela. So she revised it in her memory to Bruno causing it. But then at the end when he tells her he wishes she would just feel all her feelings, her husband says “I’ve been saying that” and at the very end she’s dancing in the snow.

And at first I thought Mirabel had no gift but she and Bruno have almost the same gift! He had future sight and she has inner sight—she can see the cracks in the house before they appear, she can see Luisa’s trauma visually as she explains it. And at first she seems more determined than Bruno to follow through on her gift, but by the end she followed the same route as him—she ran off convinced she’d failed them. But bc Abuela had been through it already with Bruno she was able to make a different choice this time and follow Mirabel and let her teach her. I wonder if Abuela had inner sight too, since Mirabel seems poised to inherit the rest of her gift—house and candle guardian. She pretends she doesn’t believe the magic is faltering but then privately admits she knows, so is it bc she can see it too and was in denial? Or she just guessed bc of what happened to Mirabel?

The fact that Bruno saw the future still in doubt means the visions were multi layered anyway. And adjusting to free will as it happened. I love that Bruno’s prophecies are fluid like that. How the meaning shifts in response to what they choose. Dolores takes his prophecy and chooses to go get her man, Isabela takes it and gets new dreams of her own. So it doesn’t hurt them. I love how all of them develop so much more dimension to their gifts when they’re allowed to use it for themselves and not just for service! Selfishness!! It’s so necessary! I think it’s one of the best forms of healing trauma!! Bc our idea of selfishness gets so twisted. i’ve heard some people say they wished they hadn’t gotten their gifts back. They thought it would be more powerful if they didn’t, but I think the point is that the gifts are just who they are, it’s not really about them being magic. The house only amplifies the gift.

We never really get to see Mirabel’s moms inner life, which makes sense because that’s how we are with our parents at that age. But I do wonder if she had any adjusting she needed to do..

Also fascinating how Dolores is the one after Bruno who sees how things are most accurately, and she sees how nobody wants to hear what he sees, so she stays quiet about her perceptions about what she hears and just reports what she’s asked for neutrally, almost mechanically (unless it’s a major emergency, lol). Like Mirabel says Dolores will tell everyone, but she never argued with anyone about Bruno being bad even though she knew it was more complicated than that, she never tells anyone she still hears him sometimes, she reports “he wants five babies” with the barest quirk of her mouth, she never once mentions Isabela’s bf is her dream man even though Bruno told her that would happen years ago. Her verse about Bruno is by far the most perceptive but she almost whispers it. And only tells Mirabel things if she’s asked. It's so traumatic to be the one who sticks out, who can’t hide the gift so it antagonizes everyone. But it’s almost as traumatic to be the one who has to stifle their gift and not to use it nearly to its potential because so they’ve seen what will happen.

It’s SO layered and so dang accurate to how trauma plays out generationally and I’ve rewatched it three times and still keep noticing things and WOW. And Dos Origuitas makes me cry. Bc it’s layered too! It’s not just “you’ll transform through trauma,” it’s “the process of transformation may take you away from the people you went through the trauma with, and that’s ok, you have to let each other go and trust the cocoon and that you’ll find each other again after if you can” and that’s a lot!!!

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐖𝐞𝐭 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫

↳ summary: the janitor at your college is cute. too bad you're not the best at watching where you're going

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: sweet tooth—scott helman

masterlist | commissions | carrd

You had been running late to class when you met him.

Everyone had been crowding the building entrance that morning. It didn’t matter that you had set two alarms for the exact purpose of beating foot traffic that morning, or that you had skipped breakfast to make it to the lecture on time. Apparently nothing trumps the news of a published professor throwing himself from a three story window— at least that’s what you had bitterly thought to yourself while trying to push through a cluster of college kids.

College life was weird like that, you had come to learn.

Once you managed to part through the crowd— somehow surviving the abundance of school gossip that was only silenced by your occasional apology —you wasted no time in rushing through the scuffed hallways. Taking a few extra turns than usual, you opted for a shortcut you had only tried once or twice before in an attempt to avoid certain professors whose deadlines you had forgot about.

You didn’t see the wet floor sign, nor the damp mop resting on the wall, before it was too late and you were already belly up on the floor, blinking at the ceiling with widened eyes.

Your head gave a harsh throb. You touched it and frowned faintly. Ouch. That was going to hurt in a few hours.

“Woah!” Came a cheery call. It startled you momentarily, causing you to sit up. “I would tell you to slow down, but— ah, well, you know.”

It took you a second to process the strangers words, and before you knew why, you felt the back of your neck heat up. A brief moment passed as a strong feeling washed through you, and then again as you realized why. Ah, embarrassment. Your old friend.

“Need some help there?” The voice got closer, and it prompted your motor skills to finally kick into gear.

Picking up your bag that had fallen off during your tumble, your gaze finally lifted upwards. A gray jumpsuit and pair of keys stared back at you, and you mentally kicked yourself for not looking a little higher than the waist band. Whiskey-colored eyes and brown hair came into view after your second attempt, and you appreciated them a little more than the aforementioned utility belt.

The janitor’s lips were pulled up at the corners into an easy-going expression, and his top lip jutted out over his lower on slightly. His hair was pushed back slightly, and it looked like he had tried to style it this morning before eventually giving up and running a hand through it. You could relate to the feeling, and under different circumstances might have complimented him. He certainly was easy on the eyes, or easier than anyone you had seen on campus so far, but you felt like now wasn’t the time to put yourself out there. Tripping and eating shit can really do something for a persons self-confidence.

“Sorry for ruining the hallway, uh, mister?” Your voice was choppy as you apologized, and you cleared your throat awkwardly afterward in an attempt to get rid of any tightness. The janitor whose work you had just ruined gave you an oddly casual smile and extended his hand while keeping the other in his pocket lazily. You took it and shook, hoping your palm wasn’t too sweaty.

“Call me Gabriel.” He offered his name nonchalantly, but you caught a hint of hesitation behind his words. His breezy expression dipped into cautious territory for what couldn’t have been more than a second. You pretended not to notice, and gave him your name in return. His grin came back at full force.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You let go of his hand to chew at your fingers.

“Don’t worry, most of it was dry.” He waved his hand and put it on his hip. Tilting his head over your shoulder, you heard as he sucked his teeth, and you knew he was probably imagining the wet spot on the back of your clothes at the same time as you. “Er, yeah. Most of it.”

His eyes trailed over your face in the moment of silence that followed. They seemed to be looking for something, and the sudden switch in tone left you to clench your jaw awkwardly. You stood there plainly, wondering if you should offer to help him redo it— or whatever he would need to do to fix your mistake —before he suddenly smiled again and gestured to a watch on his wrist. Funny. You hadn’t remembered that being there before.

“Shit!” The sight of the clock’s minute hand all but slapped you in the face as you scrambled to take your leave, patting yourself down as you hurried to collect your things and get out of there. You only stopped to turn around and walk backwards, gesturing stiffly to your surroundings.

“I’m gonna be late but, uhm, you sure I can’t—?” You weren’t exactly sure what you were offering to do, but Gabriel seemed to understand nonetheless. He grinned brightly, chewing on something you hadn’t seen him pop into his mouth earlier. A closer look told you it was bubble gum, and you felt odd for noticing such a small detail.

“Nah, you’re good kid. Stay safe. Try not to slip on anymore floors around here.” He waved you off with a wink of molten gold eyes, hands already reaching for the mop against the wall and beginning to wield it.

The nickname made you pause— he couldn’t have been but ten years older than you, and looked even younger —but you shook it off and started down the hallway as fast as your legs would allow, wincing as your stomach grumbled all the way to your lecture hall. You didn’t see as Gabriel paused behind you, waiting for you to turn down the hallway before snapping his fingers. He turned back to his work with a little whistle, mopping over the spot where you had fallen with an energy that hadn’t been there before.

It wasn’t until you were already sitting in class, digging through your bag for a spare pen, that you noticed the lollipop resting atop your books innocently.

[britt-kageryuu]

Leo was a bit bored and rambling. Though the audience and chat were enjoying him talking. His model was dressed in a white shirt with a blue flannel overtop it, bluejeans, sneakers, and his mask with one gay tail, and one pride tail. His model is seated in a version of his train car.

"I don't really understand those ASMR videos, or those voice packs I heard other VTubers do. While I get that some of them are kinda like those audio dramas that are published for popular amime/manga, games and light novels, it's still just a bit weird." He pauses to grab something, which was apparently a book.

"Like in the back of this book is the scripts for a couple audio dramas for this one series. They're from the main girls fiance's pov, but when he talks to her, they didn't record her talking. You just have his thoughts on what she's saying. Actually give me a sec." Leo mutes his mic, and the audience can see he's doing something.

After a few minutes he turns the mic back on, and starts talking with a slightly different tone to his voice, "Hey, sorry if I kept you waiting! I got caught up in traffic... Oh you just got here? You're not just saying that to make me feel better are you?" Leo's model has a bit of a playful look, and he switches the background to a park with sakura trees in full bloom. "I hope you don't mind us having a picnic instead of going to that anime café. They were booked full. But hey the weather is nice, and I made us some lunch." His model holds up a big fancy stacked bento box.

"What?! You didn't think I could cook? Just because I don't do the fancy stuff like my brother, doesn't mean I can't cook. Trust me, you'll love this. But first let's find a place to set up our picnic... Oh you like this spot?" Leo pauses, and then switched back to his train car.

When he started talking again he was back to his usual tone, "Okay, that wasn't that bad, but it's got to be a pain in the butt to write this stuff out, or improve it in a way that sounds natural if a bit cliche. That was just me rehashing some popular romance story tropes, and I couldn't get very far before I started to kinda hit a road block." Leo pauses to take a drink of his tea, "Maybe I could get Dee to try reading some stuff like this. Maybe frame it as, 'I bet you can't read this in a non flat voice!' Or something." He starts to read over the chat, and scrolls back to about where he started to read off his quick script, just reading some of the reactions.

"While this will definitely not be a big thing, and we might never do this again, it would be interesting to see you guys reaction to us posting a couple videos like that. No Promises Though!! We may be creative, but we do have day jobs." Leo continues to read through the chat, before something catches his attention.

"What in the name of Pizza Supreme does that mean? Is that some new thing, or slang? I'm gonna look this up real quick." Leo then goes down a rabbit hole of searching, and kind of forgot he was streaming, and the audience if just listening to his random mumbling about whatever it was he looked up, and then got sidetracked by.

----------------

Masterpost

Really I personally don't fully understand ASMR. The closest I ever got, was listening to a song while reading, and the song just kinda resonated with how I was reading the story, and I got a shiver up my spine.

[riverdale-retread]

Riverdale S7 E5 Tales in a Jugular Vein

We open with the three unwise men of Riverdale who fancy themselves the key authorities of the “situation”  - Clifford Blossom, the high school principal, and Dupont from S4 that they keep giving more names to that won't stick in my memory:  His first name is apparently Friedrich.  It’s not even Freddy, it’s Friedrich like he’s some sort of kaiser. In any case, the Blossom patriarch as the source of all evil in this town asks if Ethel has been silenced. 

Yes, she has, quite literally - the nuns at the Sisters of Quiet Mercy have imposed a ‘vow of silence’ which seems like a euphemism for literal physical muzzle  (Poor Ethel).  The parents are all very concerned about the murder of the Muggs but the three wise men are not.  They are also confused about why it is that Sheriff Keller is continuing to chase down this ‘milkman’ that Ethel saw as well as the murder weapon.  The HS principal seems not to know that this is Sheriff Keller’s actual job, but Dupont (Werther? Whatever) says that the real problem is COMIC BOOKS.  

I don’t think these old farts understand how very incompetent Sheriff Keller is. He’s the man who forgot to check the time of death on the coroner’s report. Ain’t no way he’s finding the murder weapon. 

And he has a whole batch of them to toss on the table, the topmost of which is The Pit Of Tyranny.  Which is what these three men are, sitting together all close in dim lighting.  (Are they going to have a threesome after??)

Dupont/ Werther hates comic books, because they are the source of all violence and iniquity in the world, so he is going to make everyone in Riverdale focus on them.

Jughead meanwhile strolls into the offices at the publishing house looking for work. He is just so happy to be working as a writer, across all universes! So adorable.  His asshole publisher who always puts out the most terrible terms - a full issue, 21 pages worth of  stories, no errors, by tomorrow morning! - and Jug is just bright eyed and bushy tailed about it.  “Plenty More Where That Came From!!”  Super eager Jughead is so cute - “I wont let you down!” with the finger POINT.

The publisher hands him a stack of potential stories, advising Jughead to talk to Bernie about them.  The extremely paper wasting way of listing these little A03 tags, 3 at a time, in single index cards is very luxurious to me.

Boxer, Vigilante, Organ Harvesting

Man, Woman, Cult, Rocket

“Gosh Bernie, all these stories have been done to death!” Jughead says.  Aw Riverdale, you’re so silly when you get meta.  Is this actually the writers’ process at Riverdale, the Show?  Because this was actually a fan theory I saw go around - that they literally just throw darts at the wall and then weave the stories together from keywords.  Is Roberto trying to tell us something about his “process”? 

The idea that Jughead thinks is GENIUS is “stories about teenagers in high school.”  And his ideas grow to things like Witchy Lunch Lady, Creepy Janitor, “Homeroom of Horrors.”  Jughead is completely enamored by his own ideas. 

Just in time, his girlfriend (Because Veronica is his girlfriend now, right? She certainly enters the room like she’s the girlfriend) Veronica comes over, calling him her “Little Tortured Genius” as Jughead is typing away.  She wants to go see  Diabolique, but Jughead is being very intense about his deadline and says maybe they can go tomorrow. 

I really need to take on Jughead’s attitude about work, maybe.  The way he phrases it  - “Al has asked me to take on an entire issue!” makes it so sound like he is adored and beloved and trusted, rather than being exploited. 

On second thought, no.  

Jughead needs to be more like me.

In any case, Veronica takes what he says at face value.   She wants to help him, so Jughead tells her with enthusiasm about his first story, which is about gym class (“What’s scarier than gym class?”). The narrator in Jughead’s special edition is a very unhinged looking unkempt old man, a ‘creepy janitor’ with a bunch of keys.  Jughead even got one of the artists to draw a mockup for him.  He’s really good at this, worming his way into this publishing house!

The first story is called Keep Your Head in the Game. 

And this is when I got attacked for a second time by this, my favorite television show, because they came for my throat.  Poor bespectacled Asian Dilton is called “the runt, the klutz, the pipsqueak, half pint, short, near sighted and uncoordinated.”

STOP TALKING ABOUT ME!   

He is the last among a row of boys who are being forced to uselessly throw a projectile so it lands in a specific arbitrarily designated location. (I hate you, all sports. I hate you, all games that involve throwing things at me.)

Nobody can leave until everyone makes  a basket which Dilton can’t.  OMG.  My PE grade depended on making a certain minimum number of baskets in gym class in Germany, and I almost failed it, but I kept at it with such bloody minded Korean dweeb determination that even though I definitely failed it, my teacher wanted so to go home that she gave me a C. This is so personal. 

The Coach makes the other players run laps while Dilton desperately tries to make one lousy basket. Of course, the one most immediately pissed off about this is Julian.  He threatens Dilton as soon as the lap running starts, then slams him against the lockers at the first opportunity.   Actually though, I decided during the course of this confrontation that Dilton would deserve what he got, because Julian asks him a very important question: Why are you even here if you can’t make one stinking basket?  Dilton idiotically wants to be part of ‘the team.’  

Dude. 

Dilton.  

Dude.

Don’t be stupid.

Julian pushes Dilton into a locker, while all the other boys let it happen.  Including Archie.  Archie is like this in every universe - he doesn’t think this is correct, but other than voicing a sort of weak objection, he doesn’t actually do anything to solve the problem (Flashing back to the infamous birthday episode with Jughead.  Does Jughead the writer of this tale really not remember the OG universe?? HMM??).   Dilton is desperately screaming inside the locker after Julian threatens for a second time to kill him.

Dilton it turns out is morbidly claustrophobic, which somehow leads Dilton to suffering a psychotic break.  The day shift cleaner lets him out, but he steals the fire-rescue ax to hide in the same locker until he can pop out and get rid of them all.   Covered in blood, Dilton is next seen in the basketball space, easily making a basket.  The coach is all atta-boy until Julian’s head rolls to his feet.   The coach turns his head to see six decapitated bodies, all wearing Chuck Taylors, sitting impossibly upright in a row on the benches, their hands demurely in their laps.  

Hahaha! OK so this was funny. 

The heads are all neatly stacked in between basketballs in a roller container. The next head that he picks up is Archie. 

Veronica is all about murdering jocks.  She especially likes that Julian Blossom got his head chopped off.   Jughead wriggles a bit on his round butt which he does when he’s being excited and smug. He explains that Dupont/Werthers (et al) don’t understand that comics are actually very *moral* forms of entertainment.  Rule breakers get punished in these horror stories, as do people who are cruel to others, as well as people who have lustful sex.

Veronica calls him Juggiekins (SQUEE) when she asks him to elaborate on what he means by lustful sex. 

Jughead says that it starts on a ‘dark and stormy night’ exactly as the night outside in Riverdale starts to get stormy.   The next story is called “Love You to Pieces.”  The “young strapping man” Archie Andrews knocks on the Blossom mansion door to explain that he has a flat tire to Nana Rose.  He asks to stay the night, to which Nana Rose generously says he can keep himself warm by the fire.  

There’s a very wholesome looking portrait of Cheryl that Nana Rose and Archie share their tea front of.  Nana Rose gives Archie a warning - he must stay in his room with the door locked all night, because Cheryl is an aggressive compulsive boy-molester.  Archie is immensely excited about this.  He leaves his door not just unlocked  - he leaves it OPEN, then sluttily lies there with his shirt off.   What we have is a Rocky Horror Show type of sequence when Cheryl comes in to kiss him.  She won’t let him light a candle, then they flop down to the bed together. (This is apparently what Jughead thinks sex is).

What the heck is Jughead’s problem with  Cheryl?  The cruelty of this story about Cheryl (as the audience knows her) is a bit shocking.  She’s definitely trapped in the house.  Her family members definitely sexualize teenage Cheryl.  She is definitely cursed.   And he’s using all this against her?  JUGHEAD.

Next morning, Archie is very pleased with himself as he bounces out of the guest room.  He sees a very ominous looking veiled young woman looking out the window, but he doesn’t say anything to her.  As he scarfs down a generous looking breakfast with Nana Rose, he proves himself to be a real asshole.  Having been told not to fuck Cheryl and then having done it, he wants NOW to know what’s wrong with her.  Apparently it’s fine if he just took advantage of a crazy girl (“What exactly is wrong with her, a mental illness?” he says as he cheerfully chows down.)

It’s only when he is told that what Cheryl has is a physical illness which is contagious - LEPROSY - is when he is upset.  Nana Rose is immune because she was ‘exposed’ to it as a child but of course, Archie wasn’t!  Then Nana Rose gleefully tells him that it “was no accident that brought you here.”  The nail in the road was Nana Rose making sure that Cheryl would ‘relish’ her last days on earth (because she is soon to die).  “We’re going to be together forever and ever!” Cheryl says as she comes from behind to grasp the terrified Archie by the shoulder. 

Veronica does not like this story whatsoever.  Jughead says it might be a “curiosity killed the cat” story or maybe even a safe sex story (even though that phrase wouldn’t be coined for another three decades).  Ever the smartie, Veronica sniffs out the Jarchie angle to all this, directly pricking at Jughead with “I’m hearing that Archie and Cheryl broke up” and that they didn’t actually have sex.  Jughead pretends to not be shooketh by this news and the realization that his resentment of Cheryl getting to fuck Archie before him was what was motivating this story.   He says, “Well, who can keep up with all the horny teens at Riverdale High?”

Jughead Jones is pro-food and anti-sex but he’s also pro-making out with Veronica. 

Anyway Veronica tells him the point of high school is for straights to  chase each other.  Jughead is just too far up his own ass to catch the hint, so he moves directly to, “Girls will do anything to get boys’ attention” to which Veronica, now thoroughly bored because the lustful sex story turned out to be an anti-sex debacle, glumly retorts, “Including feigning an interest in comic books, apparently.”  Jughead is not listening to her, at all. 

Jughead the writer next turns his poison pen upon the blameless Betty Cooper.  Or is he?  Because honestly his descriptions of her are so  completely wrong as to be comical:  “Plain Jane with the ponytail mane.  Sweater set waiting for better yet.  Whom none of the boys seem to sic their sights on.”  I mean, in the real world of the 1950s AU, Betty was targeted by the lying asshole Kevin as the perfect unwitting beard because she’s the prettiest girl in school, and no guy who can ‘get’ and keep the prettiest girl in school can be gay, right?  

Anyway, in Jughead’s story, even though he calls her Betty, this girl is not Betty in the real world.  She goes to the hair salon in tears because nobody wants to take her out.  The drag queen (is it the same actor who is playing Janitor Key Keeper?) hairstylist suggests that Betty gets the beehive.  She suggests that ‘girls in Europe’ are doing it which is immensely enticing to Betty.  The thing is, according to the hairstylist you can’t ever wash your hair again once it’s in a beehive.  It can only ever be hairsprayed  (Aqua Set).  Betty objects on hygiene reasons - hair should be washed every other day or at least once a week!  - but decides to give all that up for the joy of being beautiful.

Jughead the writer has  a thing for Dad joke level puns - he describes the girls of Riverdale as being “gangrene with envy” at how fabulous Betty looks with her new hairdo.   Cheryl is upset, and so is Veronica, so when they run into her spraying the hell out of her beehive in the girls’ bathroom, Cheryl attacks first.  She calls Betty “ponytail princess” and the haircut “ridiculous” and Cheronica laugh meanly about it.   This turns out to be the very first time either girl had paid any attention to Betty, so Betty figures all attention is good attention.  She “started needing it, feeding off it.”   Veronica is in blue-white polka dots, Cheryl is in red check, but Betty is in the same blues-and-yellows of the bathroom!    

The hairspraying is out of control, but the heavier and more shellacked her hair becomes, the more boys are attracted to her. Julian wants to carry her books to class.  Archie wants to go out with her on Friday.  Two nameless extra boys just wanna stand close by and stare!  Betty doesn’t even accept Archie on his first pass either.

She does develop a bit of an obsession with the hairspray.  Sitting very Wes Anderson-like in her yellow-green living room, dead center frame, in her yellow-greenish outfit, she is spraying and spraying.   Betty never washes or undoes her hair, instead spraying it further before going to bed.  The narration says something VERY BAD HAPPENED as Betty’s window throws a huge spiderweb shaped shadow over her sleeping face.

A week later, she and Archie are finally on a date!  Pops says that Betty has always been a peach when Archie implies she’s suddenly become good enough with the hairdo change. Go Pop’s.   Can I just say I hate the word GINCHY. Is this an actual word from the 50s or did they make this up for Riverdale?  I refuse to look it up.  Archie insists on using it TWICE in one sentence - he calls Betty and her hair both Ginchy.  Ugh. 

The song called “I got Stung” comes on so they go out to the dance floor.  Archie is the dorkiest dancer of all time but Betty seems to be having a good time, until she suddenly isn’t.  She is coughing up foam! She’s having a fit!  Archie looks so horrified.  The narration comes in to say Betty is now DEAD.

Heyyy Doctor Curdle Jr. is the coroner!  He finds Betty very beautiful with a fascinating hairstyle.  He cuts the top of the hairdo off, which unleashes a torrent of spiders down Betty’s beautiful dead face.   Black widow spiders ate their way through Betty’s skull.  Well.. okay.  The Key Keeper bursts in to tell us that “beauty is only skin deep and  vanity kills.”

Veronica is super not amused by this conclusion, which I think Jughead put in there for her benefit because he just got done talking about how these stories in this horror comic are actually all morality tales.   She takes issue with it, in the beautifully spruced up space she created for Jughead to live in. “What’s wanting to look good?” asks Veronica, looking absolutely perfect beyond all reason.  She also says that men do the same thing, turning themselves into he-men.

The thing is, even though she doesn’t appear to like these stories, Veronica is still annoyed that she hasn’t had a starring role, unlike Dilton, Cheryl, Archie and Betty.  The fact that Dilton is included in this list is interesting, isn’t it, given the relationship, both shown and implied between the other universe Dilton and the Rivervale Dilton and Jughead?   She specifically asks a tale romantic in flavor, which is not at all the flavor of what Jughead has been writing all evening NOR who he writes for, but then because Veronica is actually gay her thoughts skip directly from romantic → focus on female friendship.   

Asking a man who has written about spiders eating into a girl’s brain because she got a fussy hairdo one time to write about “female friendship” is a recipe for disaster.  I will say, Jughead does sort of start off on the right foot - he suggests a story where the girls in a love triangle  do NOT go after each other’s throats. This brings Veronica’s hopes up too much though (“Now you’re singing my tune!”).

This last story is called, “My Better Half.”  

Jughead really dislikes Archie in this universe.  Like, a lot.  He sees Archie as a really dumb slut (both terms derogatory).  Are we absolutely sure that Tabitha did a complete mind wipe? Where does all this hostility come from?  The story starts out with the Key Keeper (who has a wicked case of sunburn or rosacea or whatever) coming in too close, way too close, to call Archie “a half wit when it comes to decision making.”

I object to this. This is unfair.  Highly suggestive is what Archie is and has always been.  When Julian tells him to ask Cheryl out, he does. When Cheryl tells him to write Betty a poem and start wooing her, he starts out to do exactly that.  And so on.  

The multiple choice question Archie is struggling with is the choice between A. the girl next door, or B. the rich starlet-socialite.  Betty in a pale blue headband and white neckerchief looks like Disney’s Cinderella, whereas Veronica looks like a Betty Page type seductress with her severe haircut and dark red lipstick.  Archie chooses C, both of the above.  

MWF are Betty, and TThrSat are Veronica days.

In a super modern innovation, Archie tells both girls that he’s dating the other one, and both girls allow this to happen.    Veronica thinks Betty is a smelly tomboy and Betty thinks Veronica is a vapid airhead.  This is exactly not at all what either of these girls are so this choice is interesting. (Is Jughead pulling his punches because Veronica is right there looking at him type?)   Archie just doesn’t have the brains to explain the concept of polyamory I suppose, so his way of coping with the objection from both ladies is to tell each that she is his favorite.

Julian wants to know how Archie gets away with it, and Archie calmly offers it up.  This is in matter of fact Archie’s actual philosophy of life a lot of the time:  You tell them what they wanna hear.

He even gives them  his best line - You’re my favorite. (Doiley gets yelled at because he tells Archie this is not three words, but four.)

The three girls at Riverdale are in the bathroom, fixing their make up. Veronica in black polka dots, close fitting, with a black handbag.  Cheryl in a flared skirt red-and-white dress.  Betty in pinkish dark check with a black belt.  Of course, Cheryl is the one to start shit, while standing between these two girls, by asking Veronica who will be her date for Valentine’s Day.  She calmly continues to do her make up while Veronica and Betty have at it. 

Veronica calls Betty “dumb for such a smart girl” and a “charity case.”  Betty calls Veronica “fragile,” “desperate” or “crazy.”   Veronica is furious at being called Fragile, so she fights back with “high strung” and then they're lobbing intimate things they’ve learned about the other from Archie.  Betty takes Alice’s sleeping pills because she can’t sleep.   Cheryl turns around to call both of them fools.  Betty carries a white handbag, by the way. 

Archie says that he ‘s taking his MOM to Valentine’s day because it’s her first Valentine’s day without her husband.  Both girls are completely moved, but also get their punches in.  Archie asks them what they’ll be up to, to which both say they will be at home.  They go on a girl’s night out on Valentine’s Day.  

And guess what?  Cheryl!!!  It’s Cheryl that’s Archie’s date for Valentine’s day!!   They see them in the Diner!   Veronica is immediately about to go do some confronting, but Betty stops her, saying she has a much better idea.  Immediately the next day, both girls approach him at once (I love Betty’s outfit with the contrast belt and the white hairpin) to offer a threesome.  This is something that Archie must have been working himself up to get them to do, because as soon as it’s offered he says he knows the perfect spot.  But they’re setting him up so they get to choose the location.   They invite him to the shop room because it’s soundproof. 

Because Jughead is the one writing this story, the girls set up the shop room with TONS of candles.  (Has there ever been a good fandom post about Jughead Jones’ candle fetish? Because it’s a really persistent theme. Please share).   They’ve even set up what looks like a bed on the floor of the shop room, as well as a record player.  Veronica and Betty are speaking in unison using identical dulcet tones. They give him a thermos of coffee which is apparently delicious, even though Archie says he doesn’t “need the boost.”  

I have been living a very sheltered life because I didn’t know that caffeine caused priapism but then Archie is an unusual bird.  Archie does feel strange immediately - there’s a funny Looney Toons type of doi-oi-oi-ing! sound effect as he tries to ‘shake off’ the effects of whatever they’ve drugged him with.    He collapses. 

When Archie regains consciousness he’s strapped to a table.  It turns out the sleeping pills were what knocked him out.  “A problem shared is a problem solved” the girl tell him, calling each other B and V.   They turn on a huge saw to “double their fun” as Archie screams and screams as they slice him in half.  The camera is completely doused with blood. 

Veronica wants Archie’s top half and Betty wants his bottom half.  I wonder why this choice?  Veronica is a breast girl, and Betty is a leg woman? 

Jughead wants to know what Veronica thought of the ‘tag team twist’ at the end.  Veronica is not pleased.  She says that the sexual politics of his stories are troubling.   She interrogates Jughead for demonizing women, to which Jughead says she is overthinking it. These stories are meant to be a gas etc.  She just doesn’t like these stories.

The thing is, I don’t think these stories are misogynist so much as anti-sex.  Jughead is very puritanical and judgmental at the same time - he finds all these people’s aspirations (retaining the desire to be part of a team even if that team isn’t nice to you and there’s no team that calls for your specific strengths, wanting to have easy sex that doesn’t mean anything, wanting threesomes, wanting approval and admiration for shallow things from others) all really dumb. He wants to punish people for being vulnerable.   He’s like a lot of solitary, self conscious overthinkers - he finds other people nakedly going after things they want painful to contemplate, and so he is mean spirited about them.

The main mistake Jughead made here though was that the story he wrote with Veronica as his lead wasn’t flattering to Veronica.  And Veronica’s mistake was hoping for something like that from a man writing in the horror genre.

I snorted when Jughead mentioned Arthur Miller and Marilyn Monroe as somehow aspirational because I know what happened with Miller after Monroe died (he wrote a whole play where he called his ex wife a great piece of ass, which, great. Super classy. Yup.)   Anyway they’re broken up now, over Veronica not liking Jughead’s writing.  He is sad about the break up between them.  Jughead is also worried about accusations about ‘corrupting the youth of America’ via comic books.

Friedrich Werther (Dupont!) has made good on what he said to the two other Unwise Men at the start of the episode.  He’s written a whole editorial on the front page of the Riverdale Register about the dangers of Comic Books: Slaughter of the Innocent!  It actually appears to be a fully written article that’s being used as a prop.  It ends with “I am asking for a call of arms.  We must attack our attackers. No one likes a fight, but the fate of our children hangs in the balance.”

Werther absolutely does not have children, so it’s the usual huge red flag when childless men go on about ‘our’ children.   The other major thing that has happened is that Four Horses Have Escaped From Farm (this is also a fully written article.  Apparently, nobody was injured, but the children did neigh at the horses , which confused the farm animals. What?)

We cut to the principal reading his boyfriend’s article out loud to their leader Clifford Blossom with great absorption.  “Our children are being seduced by sex, by violence, by depravity.”  Blah blah.  Clifford - who is mayor by the way - says this crusade against comic books is going to be a nice distraction from the still unsolved Muggs murders. 

Back at the comic book business, Jughead is told by the publisher that his work is “incredible stuff.”   When Jughead says he needed a win, Fieldstone guesses that it’s girl trouble.  Jughead tells him he had a “sweet thing going with this one gal” and she didn’t like what Jughead was saying.  The publisher does not care what that means, and instead offers a byline (not a bonus, not a cover) so Jughead’s name is going to be in print!   The publisher names him Jughead JUGULAR Jones.  Featherstone promises that girls come and go but one’s name in print makes people sit up and take notice.   Apparently this is going to set Jughead on a collision course with Dupont (Werther! Whatever!).

I am sad that Jeronica is over, though I do like the way it just sort of fizzled out because they ran into an incompatibility that they could not find a way to overcome rather than Archie or Betty causing them problems, which I appreciate. And you know what - the fact that Jughead just can not stop thinking about Archie fucking other people makes me think the Jarchies have it right after all.

[siriuslystargazing]

You're a Jinx! Chapter 1

chapter 1 is here guys !! you can also read it here on my AO3 and get it as soon as i publish the next chapter !! :)

This is going to get very dark, so reader discretion is advised as this is inspired by Powder and Vi's relationship from Arcane. read the drabble that inspired this here

Jinx (Noun) is a Person or thing that brings bad luck.  

One should never wish luck to someone about to start Hogwarts, as it is seen as a Jinx. Those words echoed from house to house in the wizarding world. Pureblood families created the rumour years ago, ever since a Malfoy heir was sorted into Hufflepuff in 1672. Not much was heard of him since he was written from the family and erased from history. It was September 1st, 1971. The platform was a hub of activity. The most Nobel house, Black, was finally in attendance. Their eldest and heir apparent was about to start his education at Hogwarts; the family was practically royalty to the wizarding world. All eyes were on them. Sirius wanted to scream; he hated how everyone looked at him like the sun shined out his arse. If only the rich pricks knew what went on behind closed doors. Sirius squirmed under the gaze of the Malfoy family; Orion, his father, noticed.

He always sees the slightest shift or snicker but never cares; he would rather drown in alcohol than deal with his 'family'. Their mother, Walburga, would dish out the punishment and then scold Orion for being a terrible father and a waste of a man. Deep down, Sirius felt sorry for his father, who was trapped in a loveless marriage. Sirius was lucky to spend time with a sober, more caring father once, even though it ended faster than it started when he tried to suffocate Sirius and his brother Regulus. Since then, Walburga kept the boys close to her, and Orion was full of enough alcohol to pickle his organs; it wouldn't stop his wrath, but it was better than being dead.   

Walburga was chatting with her sister taking her much-needed attention from the boys as Orion shifted closer to his sons. Orion was pissed. He was sobering up. He hadn't had a drop since Seven this morning. Orion's grip on Sirius's shoulder was rugged, and the pressure caused Sirius to inhale sharply. Regulus found a spot on the floor more entertaining than what was about to happen. Regulus gave Sirius's Pinky finger a reassuring squeeze. 'I'm here', the gesture said. "I suggest you board the train, boy", Orion growled. Sirius could taste the whiskey on his father's breath. "Yes, Sir" Sirius turned to Regulus, his brother or maybe shadow? Their relationship was strange; people thought they were twins with how identical they were. If you found one brother, the other was indeed close by. Sirius looked Regulus up and down. His eyes were sunken in (they went to bed without dinner again) and still a little red from where he was crying in Sirius's room, begging him not to leave him alone. Sirius pulled Regulus into a tight hug muffling the sob leaving Regulus. "You will be okay. Just remember what I told you, okay?" Sirius Pulled away using the sleeve of his blazer to wipe the tears from Regulus' face. "Stay in my room and stay out of fathers way," Regulus choked. "And if I need food, ask Kreachur."  the conductor Blows his whistle kids that are still clinging to their parents start to peel away. 

"Yeah, I have to go now. I love you, Reggie" Sirius embraced his brother again. "I'll see you at Yule in a few months." Regulus grips Sirius a little tighter. "Promise?" Sirius chuckles, ruffling his brother's hair as he looks up at him, eyes watery and faces a little snotty "I promise" Sirius planted a kiss on Regulus' forehead and left for the train.  Regulus ran after him, stopping at the window of the compartment Sirius had commandeered from two other boys, one with unruly black hair and thick glasses, the other a sandy blond with his face stuck in a book. The train let out a huff of steam, causing the wheels to turn. Regulus forgot all the etiquette lessons beaten into him, but it was worth it. "Bye, Sirius! Good Luck at school!" he screamed over the chugging of the trains. Sirius's eyes widened at the words that left Regulus, and the platform was hushed into whispers. The last thing Sirius saw of his family was the souring of his mother's face as she pulled Regulus to her and the flash of white-hot rage on Orion's face. Sirius Black had just been cursed with the worst possible jinx, and it was Regulus's fault.  

Sirius dropped to the ground, head in his hands. Fuck. Everything is ruined. His life is cursed, but he can't blame his little brother; he just can't. If he were to blame anyone, it would be his horrible family. "I'm sure it will be okay, mate-" Sirius turned to look at the boy talking to him. Perfect clothes full of colour and life, glasses as thick as jam jars and hair so unruly he could only be a "Shut it, Potter! All you potters are so perfect you know nothing about me or my family!" Sirius stormed out of the compartment where he thought Andromeda was sitting. Remus puts his book down. "Well, that's an entertaining yet dramatic introduction, Remus Lupin, you?" Remus held out a scared hand. Perhaps one ally-friend would be lovely. James ran a hand through his hair, sighing and taking Remus's in a firm shake. "You're telling me those pureblood families are bonkers with all their rituals and junk... Names James Potter"  

Sirius was too numb to feel any emotion; he just shut down and retreated to his mind. Andromeda, the sanest of the Black sisters, held Sirius's hands in hers, not saying anything but acting as a calming presence. Bellatrix was cackling further down the carriage with the Lestranges, and Narcissa was busing her hands with needlecraft. They were each a marvel of their own. Three witches born a year apart, Bellatrix, the eldest, resembled the crone; Andromeda, the middle child, was always forgotten but acted as a mother to anyone who needed one. And finally, the beauty and youngest, Narcissa. "I don't understand why you're getting so worked up over it, Siri." Narcissa sighed. "It's not like they can hurt you whilst you're at school." Sirius's leg stopped bouncing; it was true they couldn't hurt him, but they could still hurt Regulus. "Sissy, don't say things like that! You know how vile Aunt Wally can be when she is in one of her moods," Andromeda hissed; Narcissa just rolled her eyes, unbothered. "I'm sure Reggie will be okay, Sirius." Andromeda gave Sirius's hands a firm squeeze of reassurance even though, deep down, she knew Regulus was in danger. Sirius was still silent. 

Regulus paced in his room, wringing his hands and muffling his sobs; he needed to calm down. He was so scared when they all got home from King's Cross that he ran to his room before any of his parents could register anything. It was 4 pm, and Regulus only knew by the ringing of the bell in the grandfather clock on the stairs. It chimed four times, that meant dinner wouldn't be long, and the thought of food made Regulus' stomach growl. Sirius swiped some bread rolls early this morning, and they ate them like little Victorian orphans. But the stress of the day and the emotional toll it took on Regulus meant that now he was hungry again, and he had no idea if he would be summoned to dinner. Regulus had run out of energy to continue pacing and decided to sit at his desk and pull out one of the leather-bound journals Sirius got him for his birthday. He flicked through the pages, some wrinkled by the tears he silently shed when he got a beating or worse. When Sirius took losses for him, Regulus flicked to a clean and pristine page and started to write. He didn't write just anything; he wrote his feelings down in poems so dark and moody they could rival Edgar Allen Poe, which was funny because he loved his work. Regulus had managed to calm down a lot more his breathing was less erratic, and he wasn't choking on every other breath. His hands had stopped shaking enough that he decided to switch to his sketchbook and draw more schematics of devices that would never be made. 

Another hour had passed, and a shallow knock sounded at Regulus' door; he opened it slightly, noticing it was the greyed skin of Kreachur. His gravelly voice echoed, "Lord Black has Requested that the young Master is to attend dinner" Regulus was stunned; why was he allowed dinner? He licked his chapped lips and thanked Kreature for telling him; the house elf disregarded the thanks and continued his chores. Regulus closed his door and turned to his mirror, ensuring his clothes looked pristine and ready for dinner.  Regulus made his way down to the grand dining room; Orion, his father, sat at the head of the table. He was slumped in his chair, his head propped on his fist, and his other hand swirled a goblet of what could only be red wine. His mother sat next to him fiercely, staring at the covered table. If Regulus didn't know any better, he would assume her steely gaze kept the roast potatoes under the silver cover warm, not the centuries-old enchantments. Oppersit, his mother, was an unexpected guest. It was his Great Uncle Alphard—the current head of and Lord of House Black. Though Alphard was slowly losing his memory, he was adamant not to give up his title until Sirius came of age or, worse, he died; even though Orion had taken on most of the House's duties, Alphard still held significant sway in the matters that revolved around the family.  Alphard smiled at Regulus, winking at his nephew with a mischievous twinkle in his kind grey eyes, the same sparkle that Sirius had. Regulus took up his seat at the end of the table. "Sorry to keep you all waiting", his voice was quiet; if Alphard weren't here, Orion would be shouting at him to speak up and stop mumbling. Orion let out a growl, uninterested in the dinner before him; Walburga looked down on Regulus through her nose "No need for apologies, Regulus. Must be so nice to have the house and attention of your parents to yourself for a change" Alphard smiled, waiving his hand, causing the silver covers on the food to vanish. "I can't say for certain, Uncle, it's only been a few hours", Regulus said; he kept his voice steady and focused on one of the painted figures in China. Orion set his goblet down with force, causing a drop of the wine to splatter the cream tablecloth. Walburga tutted as she chose the smallest broccoli from the tray. 

Growing up in such a family, Walburga refused to eat many foods. The best way to describe the woman was that she was an almond mum. She took the tiniest amount of food and refused to let her children eat anything void of flavour and spice. "Why have you paid us a visit, Alphard" Walburga drawled, grimacing at the three potatoes Regulus had piled onto his plate. "I have brought news of my heir, Sirius. It seems his sorting was quite the spectacle," Alphard boasted, causing Regulus to stiffen; this was it. The moment that would seal their fate. Regulus prayed to any deity that would listen that Alphard was going to say his brother was sorted into Slytherin like everyone else in his wretched family. "it appears my heir apparent is a lot braver than most has been sorted into Gryffindor" Alphard seemed to be happy, much to Walburga and Orion's faces.  

Sirius Orion Black, the First of his name and Heir to the most recent and Nobel house of Black had been sorted into Gryffindor.  

Walburga snapped her head to Regulus, her nostrils flaring with rage, but it wasn't what Regulus was afraid of. His father sat up from his chair, gripped his goblet tight, and launched it at Regulus. "You Fucking little JINX", Orion Roared. "You have made your brother disgrace our family", Alphard rose from his seat, restraining Orion, "I think it best you head to your room Regulus."  

Regulus didn't get a mouthful of the roast potatoes as he ran from the dining room and up to his bedroom. It was his fault. Sirius is going to get disinherited, and it was his fault. Regulus doesn't want the title or the house or anything. He was a spare! Regulus tried to suffocate himself under his duvet but failed and cried to sleep again.  

hope you enjoyed it! thoughts questions and concerns are much appreciated drop em in me ask box lads!

[pageandpanel]

(originally posted @ Page and Panel on wordpress)

Per my last post, everyone knows it’s been a while since I’ve posted regularly here. But I’m working on getting back at it so where better than with my Marvel Read Through.

But first a correction: In my first Marvel post, I claimed that it contained the first three years of continuity. Well, that was a lie. I’ve been reading these comics in chunks of around 20-30 issues at a time and I thought I could reasonably cram 20 issues of continuity into a single post and still have it be readable. That was also a lie. Instead of 20, I ended up covering only six comics. But once I came to my senses, I forgot to go back and change my intro. You think I proofread these posts before I send them out into the world? Absolutely not. We write like college English majors submitting a paper 15 minutes before the deadline or we don’t write at all!

That being said, we are starting off in July of 1962, Almost a full year since Fantastic Four #1 was published. Marvel won’t churn out the volume of comics we see today for another several years and we’re lucky if we see one or two comics a month, let alone a dozen titles a week. I also want to get better about doing credits in this. For now we mostly just see the team of Stan Lee and Jack Kirby at the head of every book. But, we have letterers and inkers to acknowledge and after this post, I think, we’re going to see a mix up on some creative teams. Best to get into the habit now.

The Incredible Hulk

The Incredible Hulk #2 (published July 1962; story by Stan Lee, art by Jack Kirby; letters by Artie Simek, inks by Steve Ditko) opens with Hulk wandering aimlessly through a swamp, headed for a small town. A sheriff spots him and alerts everyone to take shelter and calls back up. A bunch of sheriffs try to take Hulk down, but obviously fail.

Thankfully, Rick Jones arrives on scene and is able to calm Hulk down and lead him away, apparently using the earliest known version of Natasha’s weirdo “lullaby” from Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015). How it evolved into *sexy voice* “The sun’s gettin’ real low…” or whatever, is beyond me. And I can’t relive that awful movie or that shoe-horned in fanfic relationship again, so let’s just move on.

Jones manages to coax Hulk to safety and the next morning he’s back to being regular Bruce Banner. Bruce begs Rick to just leave him because he knows he’ll never be able to control the Hulk. Rick refuses to abandon him though. There’s a lot of guilt here and Rick clearly blames himself, as the accident that created the Hulk was during Bruce’s attempt to save Rick’s life. So, I guess they’re just trauma bonded forever. That seems healthy.

We cut away from the emo-est boys of 1962 because, elsewhere, a spaceship has landed. These aliens are aptly named The Toad Men.

They have come seeking the “most brilliant scientific mind on Earth.” And that just so happens to be Bruce Banner. Though, we also have the same claim made by Reed Richards and Hank Pym, so I’m curious what metrics everyone is using. Can we get a proper rubric and a ranking system for this? In a few decades we’ll get periodically updated lists from Marvel on who the smartest people in the universe are, but these three tend to stick somewhere close to the top. Anyway, the Toad Men are here to decide if the smartest man on the planet is enough to resist their planned invasion of Earth. They find Banner and Jones in the Hulk Cave that Banner has set up to contain himself at night. The two are captured and taken aboard the Toad Men’s ship.

The leader of the Toad Men, Torrak, spills their whole plan to Banner and Jones and claims that because they have mastered the magic of magnetism, they cannot be defeated. Magneto is calling from 1963 and he says hands off my schtick. Banner refuses to talk and, because he’s of no use to them, Torrak ejects Rick Jones from the ship in a plastic tube back to Earth. Smart idea to tell a guy your whole plan and then send him home for help, I guess.

On the ground, the US Military has decided to use the classic soft touch both the Hulk and the Military are known for. By launching missiles at an unknown ship and bringing it to crash down in the desert. I’m glad even in the 60s, the US Military was known for being incredibly diplomatic and never following the orders of an absolute blowhard who wants to shoot first and question later….

The ship comes down and because it’s daytime back on earth, the Hulk is gone, leaving Banner in the wreckage. The Toad Men have tunneled underground to escape, leaving behind a scene doesn’t look great for our hero. Ross has Banner arrested for treason because he’s too busy nursing a personal grudge and inferiority complex to ask whether or not he was on the ship willingly. And while Betty Ross tries to plead for Banner’s release, more ships appear in the sky. The Toad King has taken over Earth’s airwaves to announce the incoming invasion. Using magnets, the Toad Men will pull the Moon closer to the planet and unless the people of earth surrender, they will let the moon crash into Earth and kill everyone. Not a great use of a planets’ resources or even really a sustainable invasion, but I guess live your life.

That night, Bruce Banner watches the sun go down and laments what has become of him in, honestly, some of my favorite panels in any of these comics so far.

As the Hulk, he’s able to escape prison and goes hunting for Ross. He ends up at their house where he startles Betty. Ross calls in some soldiers and a tank to the stand-off basically happening in his living room. Hulk escapes with Betty in one of the absolute funniest panels ever. (Ya’ll, Jack Kirby came to play on this book)

Hulk escapes the fight, kidnapping Betty and taking her back to his lap. Betty demands to know why Hulk hates them so much. And Hulk responds with basically “You keep trying to kill me obviously I hate you!” Rick tries to reason with Hulk but fails. Thankfully the sun rises and Hulk becomes Bruce once more.

With the Toad Men’s fleet still hovering over the Earth, Bruce realizes he must use the Gamma Gun he’s created on them. Suspense builds, as no one knows how Gamma will react with magnets! Bruce readies the gun while Rick holds back the soldiers. Thankfully it works and Bruce is declared a hero and cleared of treason. No one seems to question why they followed the Hulk to Bruce’s lap or why the Hulk is gone or how Bruce got out of prison. But at least the Moon isn’t going to crash into the Earth anymore so we’ll take the Ws where we can get them. The only person who suspects the Bruce/Hulk connection is Thunderbolt Ross, but he’s an asshole anyway. And no one really has to worry about the Toad Men because, unlike the Skrulls, we’ll never see this alien race again.

Fantastic Four

Once again, we get a main player in the Marvel Universe introduced SUPER early in Fantastic Four continuity. Fantastic Four #5 (July 1962; story by Stan lee, art by Jack Kirby, inks by Joe Sinnott, colors by Stan Goldberg, letters by Artie Simek) gives us the glorious introduction to Doctor Doom! And on a full splash page, no less.

We’ll get to him in a minute. For now he’s just going to hang out with his pet vulture and play Fantastic Four Barbies TM.

Reed, Sue, Johnny, and Ben are chilling at the Baxter Building, as they do when they’re waiting for the story to get going. Johnny is reading an in universe copy of The Incredible Hulk, which is a really cool way to advertise your new book and I actually really do love it. Even if it does break continuity a little in a few issues.

Johnny harasses Ben a little, even though Ben is simply trying to enjoy his morning tea. The fight like they always do and it ends with a comic book on fire. Always the parents of the group, Reed and Sue pull them apart before they can actually fight each other. Classic FF opening shenanigans.

Reed Richards into rope play? More likely than you think. 😏

Suddenly, the lights go out in the Baxter Building despite being connected to a generator. A net drops over the entire building. 🚨ASBESTOS WATCH🚨 Johnny remarks that he cannot burn through it because it’s made of Asbestos. Seriously hope Johnny got in on those law suits and/or the smartest man in the universe helps get him some fresh lungs in a decade or two. Anyway, it’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for! Enter Doctor Doom! Who has apparently decided it’s time to stop playing with his action figures and come deal with the real Fantastic Four. From his helicopter, he calls out to them and Reed immediately recognizes the voice.

Cue flashback:

Victor Von Doom and Reed Richards were college roommates. But Doom’s interest in sorcery proved to be his downfall. During an experiment to communicate with the dead, Doom sets off an explosion and is expelled from school. More on that eventually.

For now, Doom demands to take Sue as a hostage and she agrees. Once she’s on his ship, he binds her and then demands the rest of the FF board the ship and promise not to attack him. It seems like he probably could have just bound them all up to ensure that no one had their fingers cross, but whatever. It’s his party and we’re all just invited along for the ride. He does put them in a cage though, and takes them to his castle.

This is where we find out that Doctor Doom has invented Time Travel, thus beginning a long and storied history of Time Fuckary in the Marvel Universe. His plan is to send them on a quest in pirate times to procure Blackbeard’s treasure for him. Why can’t he just rob a bank? Good question. Couldn’t tell you.

But in order to save Sue, the rest of the team must agree to this. They go back in time and land in a port where two pirates are conveniently arguing over a pile of period appropriate costumes and fake beards. Ben scares the men away and the three of them suit up to blend in, I guess.

Why do they have wigs and fake beards? Good question. Why does Ben conveniently get black hair and a black beard? Isn’t he getting super into character for a thing they don’t actually want to do? I know what you’re thinking. And trust me, we’ll get there. I promise the pay off is everything you want it to be and more.

Yeah. Ben Grimm was Blackbeard all along. I love comics.

After the fight, they acquire Blackbeard’s treasure and Reed points out that they only agreed to give Doom the chest, not the treasure inside. And that is technically correct, the best kind of correct. So they quickly exchange the riches for chains.

Ben, reveling in his new-found fame, announces that he will not be returning with Reed and Johnny. He claims that there is nothing for him in their time, but at least here he’s made something of himself. To ensure that the other two can’t drag him back to their home time, he orders his crew to soak Johnny with water and wraps Richard in a sail. While he’s preparing to set his two friends loose on the open sea in a lifeboat, a cyclone hits the ship and destroys it. Thus Reed, Johnny, Ben, and the treasure chest all wash ashore.

A time portal opens above them and they are all brought back to the present along with the treasure chest. Doom explains that the reason he couldn’t simply rob a bank is because the treasure contains gems enchanted by Merlin that will make him invincible. When he opens the chest to find nothing but chains, Ben attacks. His punch destroy’s Doom’s armor, revealing that he was nothing more than a robot all along. I can’t believe we got Doombots on Doom’s first appearance. Again, I love comics.

Doom appears on a screen from another part of the castle where he still has Sue Storm hostage. But she’s not going down without a fight. Turning invisible, she manages to short circuit Doom’s control panel and cause an explosion. She escapes and reunites with the rest of the team. Reed, because he’s definitely in the top three ranking of smartest men on Earth, says it’s not worth trying to capture Doom who very likely has traps set up all around his castle. So the Fantastic Four escape through an alligator infested mote in an absolutely nonsense way that prove to me that neither Stan Lee nor Johnny Storm understand how fire works.

Regardless, the team escapes. And once they’re safely out of the castle, Johnny sets it on fire. Because apparently he’s fully trying to murder Doom. Which, I get it. But it kinda goes against the hero code we know and love where heroes don’t actually kill the bad guys. That’s anti-hero territory and we’re a long way off from Frank Castle, still.

The team watches Doom blast out of the castle with a jetpack. We’ll be see him again very soon and for the rest of continuity.

Amazing Spider-Man

Okay technically this is Amazing Fantasy #15 (August 1962; story by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko, art by Steve Ditko, colors by Stan Goldberg, letters by Artie Simek) but it’s the first appearance of Spider-Man and the only issue of Amazing Fantasy I’m going to read so it’s basically Amazing Spider-Man #0. Everyone knows this origin story. We’ve seen Uncle Ben bleed out in the streets almost as many times as we’ve seen Martha Wayne’s pearls artfully break and scatter in a Gotham alleyway. But here it is, one more time, for the sake of continuity

Peter Parker is an unassuming high school student. He’s an outcast an deemed a “professional wall flower” by his peers. We open with a group of kids talking about going to a dance they would never in a million years invite Peter to. And I know we’re supposed to think these kids are mean and they’re bullying poor Pete. But let’s be honest, Steve Ditko can’t draw teenagers and Peter looks like a 40 year old divorced math teacher. I wouldn’t want to invite him to the dance either.

And it makes sense that Peter is 40 because Aunt May and Uncle Ben are like 110. Seriously Ditko? Why are they so old? Where did you learn to draw people of varying ages? I don’t love Ditko’s art in this as much as I’ve enjoyed Kirby’s on everything else. But he’s really going to shine when he gets to Doctor Strange so I’m holding out for those issues and hoping he’s learned how to draw someone in their late 20s/early 30s by then.

Peter lives with his only living relatives, Aunt May and Uncle Ben. They’re poor but happy and peter is well loved. We don’t learn yet what happened to his parents or how he ended up with his Aunt and Uncle, but that’s not important right now.

Instead of going to dances with teenagers, 40 year old divorced math teacher getting his groove back attends demonstrations of radioactive rays. While watching the demonstration, Peter doesn’t notice a spider drop down onto him until it’s too late. This is literally my worst nightmare I would simply cease to exist.

Peter handles it a little better than I would, though. The spider dies and, feeling a little lightheaded, Peter leaves the demonstration early. Nothing out of the ordinary there…

Side note: Steve Ditko also can’t draw spiders. Can Steve Ditko just not draw? Something to think about.

On his way home he almost gets hit by a car and when he goes to jump out of the way, he discovers that he can jump much further than he thought. He plays around with his powers for a bit, testing their limits and possibilities. He’s strong, he’s fast, he can climb walls. Does whatever a spider can, etc etc. You know the drill.

Later, using his new powers, Peter enters a wrestling match as the “Masked Marvel” and win’s $100. After the match, he is greeted by a TV producer and invited to join him in show business, like you do. Put a pin in that. Because now it’s time for a comic book style make-over montage. Peter goes home to make himself a costume. Project Runway, look out. It’s actually a pretty cool black and red suit. If you’ve seen one Spider-Man costume, you’ve seen them all. This one has the web-wings that don’t make it into every version but still look pretty cool here.

He also makes himself a batch of what he calls web fluid. No real explanation as to how or what it’s made of. But when you’re a 40 year old divorced math teacher with an interest in radiation, you’ve probably got a lot of stuff laying around to whip something up.

Later, Spider-Man has become a celebrity wrestler. One night he goes back stage to see guards chasing a thief and gives them the most fateful “Not my problem, I just work here” in history. Because as fate would have it, a few days later Spider-Man learns that his uncle has been killed by a burglar. Peter puts on his costume and chases the man to an empty warehouse. A fight ensures, the man pulls a gun that peter blasts with web. When he sees the man’s face, Peter realizes that this is not just any burglar, though. It is the same thief Spider-Man let escape.

Peter leaves the burglar wrapped in web for the police to find and goes home to ponder exactly what great responsibility comes with this great power. And that’s the last we’ll see of him for a while. Amazing Spider-Man #1 comes out in March of 63–a year in real time, several recap blog posts from now in my time.

Journey Into Mystery

That brings us to our last first appearance of a new hero for a while: Journey into Mystery #83 (August 1962; story by Stan Lee and Larry Lieber, art by Jack Kirby, inks by Joe Sinnott, colors by Stan Goldberg, and letters by Artie Simek) introduces us to… Donald Blake? No, that can’t be right. The story promised Thor and the Stone Men from Saturn! So, if you’re only familiar with Thor from the movies live I was, and had never really dipped into Thor comics written before a certain point, it was pretty surprising to find that Thor also used to have an alter-ego. In my head, Thor is just Thor. I read a lot of Walt Simonson’s Thor run from the 80s, Jason Aaron’s run from the last decade, and I had known about Blake in passing, but mostly through modern stuff addressing prior retcons. I didn’t realize that for the first several years of being a character, Thor was basically just a costume worn by Donald Blake, and not the other what around. And, yeah, it’s a little more complicated than a costume, but still.

The story opens with our introduction to Donald Blake, a doctor from the US who uses a cane to walk, on vacation in Norway. Conveniently also visiting Norway, are a bunch of rock aliens from Saturn (who kinda look like Ben Grimm painted green. Maybe Ben should go be on Saturn for a while?). Blake overhears a fisherman telling locals about the rock monsters, but no one seems to believe him. Blake decides to go look for himself and, sure enough, rock aliens. He steps on a twig while attempting to run away from the aliens. Obviously the aliens hear it and chase after him. And I’m just going to say it here, Donald Blake is not in the running for smartest scientist in the world. Reed, Hank, and Bruce can all rest easy knowing they’re definitely top three for the time being.

Blake runs for the hills–literally. He loses his cane and takes shelter in a cave. Unfortunately, the exit is blocked off so he’s basically trapped. Until! Magically a secret door opens to a chamber with a fresh new walking stick just lying on a pedestal. *Cardi B Voice* That’s suspicious. That’s weird. Not quite smartest man on earth smart, but smarter than your average bear smart, Blake decides to try to use the cane as a lever to move the boulder blocking his exit. When that doesn’t work, he slams the stick against the boulder out of frustration. There’s a flash of lightning and the stick becomes a hammer. Blake has been transformed into the Norse God of Thunder: Thor.

Weird, huh?

I do like that we get a quick rundown of all of Thor’s powers as Blake slowly works them out for himself. He is super strong, meaning he can lift the boulder out of his way. He can also summon storms and he figures out that if the hammer is throne, it immediately comes back to him. Which does lead to a funny contradiction that Stan Lee will start correcting in future issues.

If he’s not holding the hammer, he goes back to being Blake immediately sometimes. However, if he throws it, he can stay in Thor Form long enough for it to come back to him? Stan Lee will literally give us a countdown timer for how long he can be Thor without the Hammer in his hand later. Thor’s powers as they relate to how close Blake is to the hammer is never consistent despite Stan’s best efforts and it’s so funny to me.

Now that he has super-powers Blake AKA Thor can go out and face the aliens, whose fleet of ships has shown up in Earth’s atmosphere. Thor attacks the aliens and breaks through all of their defenses, including an incredibly named Mechano-Monster. No match for the awesome might of Thor, they flee. Thor changes back into Dr. Bake and is fully ignored by the soldiers who come looking for the invaders.

Journey into Mystery #84 (September 1962; story by Larry Lieber, art by Jack Kirby, inks by Dick Ayers, colors by Stan Goldberg, and letters by Artie Simek) is where Mystery sort of becomes our anti-communist book. More on that when we unpack. But for now, it’s also our first appearance of Jane Nelson… I mean Foster. Yeah, Nelson doesn’t really have the same ring to it. I’m glad they circled back on that one.

Blake returns home from his trip to Europe and learns that a revolution has broken out against a Communist ruler in San Diablo. As a result, several American doctors agree to go and help, Blake among them. Obviously this is a problem for our evil Communist dictator (and kinda racist caricature), known as The Executioner. And he for sure cam by that name honestly, as we’ll see in a minute. His goal is to keep the peasants too sick and weak to overthrow his government. Which, yeah, that’s definitely what an evil dictator would do.

The other thing an evil dictator would do is send fighter jets to drop bombs on the ship carrying those doctors. Thankfully, Blake is on board. He turns into Thor and smashes the bombs out of the sky. There’s a lot of running back and forth and trying to make sure it’s clear that no one has realized that Blake is Thor despite how often Blake disappears right when Thor arrives which is actually pretty funny.

Despite The Executioner’s best efforts, the boat makes land at San Diablo and the doctors and medical staff come ashore to help the sick and injured civilians.

I was actually surprised to see the on-page display of the Executioner’s firing squad as he demonstrates to his soldier what their fate will be if they do not stop Blake and the other doctors from doing what they came to do. Even without seeing the blood and guts, this was a little brutal for an area that I mostly associate with extreme ✨camp✨.

When their team is attacked again, Thor tries to fight off the soldiers. Eventually, they capture Jane and force Thor to retreat.

I do love that we get an editor’s note user manual for Mjolnir. We’ll get a lot more of these attempts to make his powers make sense because Stan Lee can’t just leave it as “it’s magic, get over it.”

Appearing as Donald Blake, Thor arrives at the Executioner’s base to demand the release of Jane Foster. Obviously, not one for following orders, The Executioner takes Blakes walking stick and orders him to the firing squad. In another “smarter than your average bear” moment, Blake challenges the dictator to fight him man to man. Laughable considering how frail Blake looks. However, Blake manages to get the walking stick away from the Executioner and transform himself into Thor once more.

The storm Thor creates washes away the soldiers as they shout out exactly what we can see happening on the page. This is a writing tick that I so closely associate with Stan Lee that I was a little surprised to only see him listed as the editor on this story. It’s definitely my least favorite thing about a lot of Silver Age comics.

While Thor is fighting off the communist soldiers, democratic forces arrive with aid, causing the communists to flee the fight. Seeing his military in shambles, The Executioner decides now is as good a time as any to cut and run. He steals a bunch of gold and tries to flee. But the communist army catches him and sentence him to his own firing squad for being a traitor. Naturally, the communists realize that the Americans have been their true friends all along and the war comes to an end. Interesting.

In the last few panels of the story, we are assured that no one has connected the Thor/Blake dots yet. And Jane laments that Blake will never be as brave or handsome as The Mighty Thor. So we have our third female character who still kinda only exists to be a potential love interest for our super smart hero man.

There’s a lot to unpack here.

The Hulk Is My Surprise Favorite Comic?

I hadn’t really expected Hulk to be my favorite book of the era, but after two issues it really is shaping up to take that trophy. Jack Kirby is pulling from a lot of old EC horror comics for influence here and I love it. At this point in continuity, Hulk is much more a monster comic than a superhero comic and that has to be a lot of Kirby’s doing. If you read a little about him, you’ll find that he created a lot of the famous monsters in the Marvel Universe and it kinda feels like Hulk was always supposed to fit the horror genre.

This book is also where you really get to see Kirby draw with emotion. The “camera” gets up close and personal in a way that just doesn’t happen in Fantastic Four. There are so many panels of Bruce’s horror and despair that come through so intensely. There’s also more exploration with color in this book than any other. And it’s a little hard to talk about color when I’m reading digital copies where the color and inking have been redone completely. But, there’s just a different pallet at work here. And if you dig into superhero color theory you’ll learn a lot about how heroes mostly get colored with primary colors. Lots blues and reds, specifically. And villains get secondary colors, i.e. green.

I’m just really surprised by how drawn into this book I am, when I’ve never really cared much for Hulk stories.

Aliens and Space-Exploration

We’re getting a lot of Alien invasion stories. I think that’s just a really common plot line for serialized stories in this time period. For some historical contest, we’re in the second decade of the Soviet vs US space race. most of these comics are being published just a year after the first human spaceflight. And we’re still seven years from the first man on the moon. I’m sure there was a lot of anxiety around what exactly was out there, in a space that only a very special and highly trained (despite what the Fantastic Four may think) few could go.

I also think it’s so interesting that we’re at a point where we’re about to start seeing some recycled villains, specifically in the Fantastic Four, but we have several alien invasions and no repeat invaders. In fact, none of the aliens we have seen so far will have any staying power except the Skrulls, which will eventually become a Whole Thing.

Anti-Communist Propaganda

Thor being the HARD anti-communist propaganda book is certainly a choice. I read ahead on Marvel Wiki just to see if San Diablo ever gets mentioned again and apparently it becomes a US-backed democratic state and in 1985 we’ll get a story about Captain America vs a native San Diablan who wants to fund a revolution to overthrow the American created government in his home country. Curious to see how that story is treated, and how two decades will change the way we view American interventionism. Right now, we’re still a little deep in Vietnam for some reflection.

I also didn’t really expect these books to be SO propaganda heavy in such a cringy way. And I probably should have. Stan Lee has never exactly been an iconoclast. But knowing about Kirby’s backstory and Ditko’s personal politics, it will be interesting to see how that comes through in later books.

[snaillamp]

Im so hyped to release the final three days of JOD almost a whole month late sorry lmao life happened but they are bangers. I thought I’d go full on for the last three days as a final send off the the fantastic challenge.

✨Also✨ interest was expressed for an extended version of day 13 so im gonna write that after I’ve finished JOD. This goes for anything, if you like a story/character/setting/storyline and want more of them, whether it be as a series or as a ‘hey i like this but i wish it was longer’ lmk cause I am more than happy to oblige :D

~Other news~

I’ve decided I’m definitely bringing back Enjar as an OC and he is getting his own series! A couple also expressed interest in Cameron as well, so if you’d like a Cam series too express interest here! Something about guys living mostly alone in the wilderness is so fun to write and apparently to read too! Probably comes from my own upbringing of living in isolated places.

I don’t have many classes this semester so I won’t make a schedule but at this point in time expect my shit to get posted on weekends and maybe even Thursdays and Fridays as a treat sometimes so come swing by for any updates.

~Other than that~

JOD brought so many new people to this blog and now i have people reading my stuff and actually really liking it! So uh, hi and welcome!

I have written countless stories as a kid and now having people read my stuff and enjoy it makes me so fucking happy! I’ve always wanted to be a published author and shit like this makes it feel a little more real and achievable. I love waking up to the notifs of people liking, reblogging especially the like like like follow like like like like pattern I keep seeing Ive even caught it happening live a couple times.

You guys are my motivation to post stuff some days and it’s so fulfilling knowing that it’s not just my close friends reading this stuff. I genuinely thank each and every one of you who’ve taken the time to read my sometimes incredibly long stories. I promise after JOD I’ll break them up into parts again, it’s just easier for me to organise/post challenge work in one long post. Also I’ll put continue reading breakers into them when I finish the challenge I forgot those are a thing ahahah im so sorry for making you all scroll

Anyway. You all rock, keep reading, writing and vibing my whumpy friends!

~ Snail <3

[from-a-reckless-writer]

RE: the tags about being tempted to post a half finished fic and guess the ending, well you are a reckless writer for a reason

this is long overdue, so here have a fic.

It has come to the point that nothing fazes her anymore.

A kidnapping? Been there, done that. It means calling Sam Arias to intimidate the board of members into temporary submission.

An explosion at the office? Just a typical Tuesday. It means relocating to the 23rd floor and sharing the desk with two other interns for 2 months tops.

An assassination attempt? It means bracing herself for at least 3 deliveries of donuts and coffee for the two following weeks that Kara Danvers would be protectively hovering over L-Corp, until her boss snaps and shoos her away back to CatCo.

She’s seen it all, endured it all and she sure as hell is prepared for it all. She’s got three different ironclad statements ready to publish for whatever PR disaster will most likely turn up that week. She’s got contacts from the FBI, DEO, CatCo, Daily Planet, Gotham Gazette-- hell she even has Lillian’s personal cell (just in case the Luthor matriarch ever tries anything y’know? ) and yes, even the number of that 'Mexican place at 5th and Spring, you know the one Kara likes, Jess?'

She’s got two pairs of heels, a raincoat and four sets of outfits neatly folded in a duffel bag, at the back of the office, reserved for any emergency that requires a change of clothes.

The point is, she is an independent Asian-American woman who has worked her ass off for the better part of the decade and has long learned to take no shit from anybody.

Not even stupid superpowered Kryptonians.

See, it takes a lot to be her. It takes unlimited patience to put up with a woman like Lena Luthor, not because she’s a terrible person. Oh no, no, the complete opposite, actually. She is so overwhelmingly kind to a fault, and she doesn’t want nor let anybody see it. It’s infuriating to see sometimes. Okay, fine, she sides with the Krytonian on that one matter. But oh, ho, ho, not today. Today, she’s mad.

She’s livid, actually and it’s all Supergirl’s fault. (and Lena Luthor's too.)

Jess has had her fair share of ‘I-Should-Not-Have-Been-Here’ moments, like that one time she forgot to knock and stumbled unto Lex mid-yell with Lena whose eyes were shimmering but was still keeping a rigid posture.

Or that one time when she thought her boss had long left the office, only to be greeted with quiet sobs and an empty bottle of scotch rolling on the floor. Or that time she happened upon Lena, skirt and sleeves on fire with fumes rising from a green solution.

Apparently, her staff from the lab refused to let her in after three days of their CEO holding herself in isolation with the experiment. Lena had gotten the great idea of smuggling the chemicals to her office instead. Luthors are nothing but determined. Jess still remembers the adrenaline rush of holding a fire extinguisher—as if she were the chosen 5th grader for a school fire drill—and shoving her boss out of the way.

Like she said, nothing fazes her anymore she’s seen it all, except maybe, this one. Yep, definitely this one. This one just made a hot ball of fury unfurl at her very core. This one might just take the cake.

Jess was just going about her day, returned from a hearty lunch and feeling reinvigorated from that dose of sunlight and fresh air. It was a quiet day today, she noticed, which should’ve been a foretelling.

Nothing really is ever quiet. Well, when it comes to L-Corp, at least.

She’s been sitting on her desk for about a good fifteen minutes and finished with screening a few papers from their new contractors, when it occurs to her that the latest blueprints from R&D are still on her desk instead of already being reviewed by her boss.

She grabs the drawing tube and quickly makes for her boss’s private office. They’ve spent enough time with each other that Jess could just come and go as she pleases, instead of having to knock each time. Saves both of their time, that way.

Although, usually, she buzzes through the intercom first to double check, but it was 1:20 P.M and she knows Lena doesn’t have anything scheduled after lunch. So, she pushes the door, confidently strolls in and promptly stops in her tracks.

Jess stops breathing for a moment, blinks once, twice, stares at the scene before her.

Lena Luthor sat atop her work desk; blouse open, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, neck currently being ravaged by Supergirl with legs wrapped around the waist.

She probably should’ve just turned and left while they haven’t seen her yet. That would’ve been the smart decision, right? Yes. Yes, it was so very clearly The Right Decision.

Of course, she doubts she could look Lena in the eye for the next few weeks after that, but at least she wouldn’t know that Jess walked in on them during an er- make-out session? Office tryst? Oh God, she shudders internally. It sounds even worse.

Incident? Yep. Yeah. She’s sticking with incident. Indecent incident sounds more apt really.

She should’ve left. Would have left, if her eyes didn’t just land on the desk—well, more like Miss Luthor’s as- backside—and felt the stirrings of rage make itself known. Because there, underneath Lena’s ass (Backside!! Jess, that’s your boss!) is the squished—probably crumpled—pages of a contract.

A contract they’ve spent 5 months securing!!

Jess decides to do what everyone else would have done in a situation such as this; she clears her throat. Loudly.

Classic move.

Supergirl’s head immediately shoots up and Lena’s eyes snap open.

“Jess!” Supergirl squeaks and she sees the exact moment the realization hits Lena. Her eyes widening at her girlfriend’s exclamation, whips her head to the side, spots Jess, hands scrambling to a panic to close all the buttons of her blouse.

She hears Lena hiss, “Fuck, shit. Oh my God. Shit. How did she even- You have superhearing!!!” as she pushes Supergirl—who lets herself be pushed, stunned by the intrusion, face redder than a tomato.

Lena gets off the desk, fixes herself all the while to futile results. Her hair is tugged down from her usual ponytail, her neck and chest is marked, her lips swollen.

Supergirl's hands twitch at the sides and Jess sees her gulp as blue eyes frantically dart to Lena and her, and then Lena, and then back to her.

Lena finally turns around after those few awkward beats.

"Jess," she begins, clearly trying hard to put on her business bitch persona, but come on, there's a hickey under her jaw for fuck's sake.

"It's not what you-"

Jess doesn’t let her finish, she stomps her way across the office and forcefully puts the drawing tube on the desk. It makes a hollow thump.

“Jess I-”

“Supergirl, do you know how long it takes to finalize a business proposal, pitch it to the board, persuade the board and finally have a contract drawn?”

Supergirl gulps again. Lena’s eyes are wild next to her, she doesn’t like not knowing what the next best move is, Jess knows this all too well.

“Uhhh- no?”

Jesus Christ, you’d think after years of shadowing Cat Grant, she'd had at least learned a thing or two. Then again, if somebody is full on glaring at her after getting caught red-handed, Jess doubts she could answer coherently too.

“That’s right,” Jess says, “You don’t.”

“Jess,” Lena repeats pointedly. She knows that tone. It’s a warning.

“Ms. Luthor.”

A period not a question mark. It’s a challenge.

"I've spent all my evenings working late on that, do you know how many dates I've had to cancel? Just so I can secure a meeting with Qatar and simultaneously sync it with Beijing's time? My boyfriend hasn't seen me in two weeks!” Jess bursts out.

“Two weeks, Supergirl!” She gets close enough to jab a finger to the Girl of Steel’s chest. A feat she will gladly tell all her coworkers later when she’s calmed down enough.

“Not to mention, the 10 other people who worked their ass off trying to make sure that Miss Luthor's presentation is airtight, bulletproof and waterproof!” Lena has the decency to look a little guilty at this point, nothing big though, just a slight tug at her lips, but it was enough for Jess.

“IT TOOK ME 3 FUCKING MINUTES TO PRINT THAT GODDAMN CONTRACT WHICH MIGHT NOT SOUND LONG—” Jess raises a finger in emphasis, “BUT BELIEVE ME WORKING IN L-CORP? A 3 MINUTE DIFFERENCE CAN MEAN AN ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT OR PSYCHOPATH PRESS!”

Supegirl of all people should already know this! For fuck’s sake!

Jess’s chest is heaving. She takes a deep breath, kneads her knuckles to her eyelids, “So, please if you're gonna have sex in the office, please, pleaseeeee clear the desk first. And at least, lock the door.”

She stares them both down, till Lena gives her a solemn nod; cheeks and ears still red. Supergirl squeaks out an, “U-understood, Ma’am.”

“Good. Glad we’ve come to an agreement.” Jess gives them one final nod before finally fulfilling what she came in here to do, “Miss Luthor,” She turns to Lena, “here are the R&D blueprints. Good day, to you Supergirl. I'll be going now. "

When she finally goes home, tells her boyfriend, and wonders aloud if she’ll still have a job the next morning, he tells her she’s such a badass.

And well, Jess can’t disagree with that.

*****

"Did I just- Did I just get yelled at by your secretary?? D-did she just chew us out?"

"She did, and she deserves a raise."

[holdontorogers]

»» Amazing, isn’t it? r.d.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠; Ransom Drysdale x Reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; as your book became a success, Harlan Thrombey invited you to be a part of his publishing company. He just forgot to mention that his grandson, who started working there as well, was an asshole.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 3,662

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; 18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI; swearing, enemies to lovers, pet-names (sweetheart, princess, pretty thing, honey, kitten), fingering, oral (f & m), fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, slight daddy kink, slight breeding kink, praise kink, dumbification, degradation, Ransom is an asshole (but what’s new?)

𝐚/𝐧; GIF NOT MINE. this might have a part 2, depends on how you guys like it and if I get the time and inspiration for it 😌. want to feel ransom’s ring when he chokes me

It started out as a joke. This last paper drove everyone from your Masters program insane. 

Yours was the only one to receive a full grade, so naturally your friends betted you could write a book.

The irony being that you actually began to start the book, as a joke. However, part of you started to really enjoy that.

Long story short — you finished the book, your friends loved it and encouraged you to publish it, it was a hit.

Apparently you did an excellent job, you thought to yourself, as you signed a contract with Blood Like Wine, Harlan Thrombey’s publishing company.

Yes, the Harlan Thrombey: best selling mystery novelist, 85 years old man; owner of his own publishing house…….. the most brilliant man you’ve ever met. 

After three meetings, he was ready to welcome you into the publishing house.

“Harlan, I cannot believe this is happening” you smiled while shaking his hand, vibrations all over your body of all the excitement.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, young lady, I am sure you will be an incredible addition to the company” he smiled back at you, subtly laughing at your joy.

“Oh, one last thing” he added, circling around his desk, going towards the door as you followed.

“yeah?” you tried, looking back at him with narrowed eyes. “My grandson will be working with us this Summer” he gently looked at you, making your eyebrow raise, what was the problem?

“Your grandson?” you encouraged him to continue his explanation, as he opened the door.

“Ransom, he is” Harlan pressed his lips together, frowning as he searched for the words to define Ransom.

“He is difficult, hard to deal with” he had a serious look on his face, you gulped, getting out of his office still looking at him.

“This Summer is his last chance to show me he’s still worth saving” he explained and then sighed, pressing a finger on his frown as he thought about his next words.

“I see a lot of me in that kid, you know?” he had a soft look on his face, you smiled gently at him. “Wanna make sure I did all I could”, he concluded.

You nodded at his words, eyes tracing the hall, searching for the right thing to say. “Well… Can’t wait to meet him!”, you tried. And how wrong were you.

Harlan then showed you your office. It was at the mansion; his latest renovation included upgraded offices, one for him, one for Ransom, and one for you.

It was huge to say the least. Harlan’s office was at the end of the hall, yours was by the stairs, and Ransom’s was in the middle.

That should be interesting, you could only hope.

⊱⋅ ──────── *·˚ ⊰ ۪۫ ⊰ ‧₊˚ ──────── ⋅⊰

Later that day you googled Ransom, why? You were not sure. Something about Harlan’s carefulness when talking about him intrigued you.

Ransom was a spoiled trust fund prick.

You could almost hear the snobby voice he must have, you could almost see the superior look he gave to anyone who dared cross Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

Any picture of him next to Harlan had him in a dreadful look.

And impeccable clothing, to the point where you envied the style this man had. But he still looked like someone you would not get near to.

You started to research about the Thrombeys wondering why you did that after accepting the job. They seemed like awful people — Harlan’s opposite, you hoped.

You left out a heavy breath, rolling your eyes and throwing yourself in your bed, hands on your face.

How much did Harlan like this kid? How bad could Ransom be? What would happen to your future if you two didn’t get along? What about that entire family??

You had just gotten your Masters, it was time to start focusing on the career you’d like to pursue. What if signing with Blood Like Wine was a terrible idea?

You decided that concerning about it was only give you a sleepless night before your first day.

You would work there this Summer and see if another book would work out its way out of your brain. Just one Summer by now, you could do this.

You were going to do your best, and an entitled, snobby, rich baby boy would not be on your way.

So you decided to freshen up and tug yourself to sleep. You had a long day tomorrow.

⊱⋅ ──────── *·˚ ⊰ ۪۫ ⊰ ‧₊˚ ──────── ⋅⊰

He was even worse than you imagined.

“It’s Hugh” he spitted out to the poor maid, “you’re the help, you call me Hugh. It shouldn’t be that hard to understand”. There wasn’t even a reply, just heavy steps on the stairs.

You rolled your eyes and tried to focus on the blank page in front of you. That was, until someone knocked, and entered.

He was gorgeous, and you cursed yourself for thinking about that at first.

But yeah, the perfect cream sweater, the perfect hair neatly done, and his ocean blue eyes… undeniably gorgeous.

But then he started talking.

“So you’re the pretty thing Harlan invited into this hell house” he had his hands on his hips, his sunglasses hanging at the edge of his nose, and a smirk on his face.

“And you are?” you managed to ask, barely finishing the question until he barked out a laugh. Where the hell did that come from?

“I’m Ransom, honey, but I’m sure you knew that” he winked, pressed his lips together as he removed his sunglasses, eyes focused on you.

“The question is” he was walking around the room, your office “who are you, pretty one” he stopped by your desk, pointing at you. That smirk officially becoming your least favorite thing in the world.

“I’m busy” you hissed, giving him a challenging look. He laughed “that’s an odd name” he continued to analyze you with his eyes, taking longer than necessary on your curves.

“Don’t you have work to do?” you said, he annoyed you. Beyond reason.

No matter what you said, he would bark something right back, his eyes eyes followed all your moves, daring you to move.

You hated how you felt, nearly squirming in your sit as he just laid eyes on you. It was going to be a long Summer.

⊱⋅ ──────── *·˚ ⊰ ۪۫ ⊰ ‧₊˚ ──────── ⋅⊰

It hasn’t been any better than the first day. Ransom kept coming to your desks, provoking you and leaving you infuriated.

Almost two months passed by and Ransom’s ultimate task of the day was to push your buttons until you snap, which you never did.

He was doing research for Harlan, at least that was he’s supposed task. You honestly thought his job was to drive you crazy.

If it wasn’t by how rude it was with, well, everyone, it would be because he was either late or not there at all.

And if you’re being honest, the fact that he would always seem to have a girl around made you clench your teeth. It was either hickeys or lipstick marks that he’d made sure you saw.

He could only parade those on purpose, and the fact that it got you worked up and absolutely irritated only egged him on.

Ransom loved the effect he had on you, he loved to see you tense in your sit whenever a mark from his last rendezvoused showed. He loved how worked up he got you.

But Ransom wished he could just snap it out of you. He didn’t like that you always had something to say right back at him.

He didn’t like when you rolled your eyes or looked disgusted at him but never did anything about it.

He didn’t like how you never left his mind, making him come into the place he hated the most in the world, just to annoy you.

Naturally he would constantly tease you. Suddenly opening your office door “by mistake” while you were concentrated, just to catch you off guard.

Softly grabbing your hips while he reaches for something in the kitchen, something that couldn’t wait until you moved. No, he would always be at the same places as you were, like a magnet.

It was getting harder to resist. You were hornier by the minute; the book taking away all resemblance of a social life you once had.

Your vibrator was old news and working at the same house as Ransom, with him impossibly close to you, was really hard to forget how bad you wanted him.

His cologne filled your nostrils, your had became fuzzy whenever he was around. His voice echoed in your head, and it was getting harder and harder to resist. You had no idea what to do.

One time he even almost kissed you, sweet talking with you until he was running his hands through your hair, almost closing the distance between your lips. If it wasn’t for Harlan, calling you at that exact second…

⊱⋅ ──────── *·˚ ⊰ ۪۫ ⊰ ‧₊˚ ──────── ⋅⊰

“Ransom do you have the paper from Harlan already?” you asked through his door. Harlan was gone for the weekend.

Obviously he left Ransom to take care of things, including the reviews from the last chapter you wrote.

“Come in, sweetheart” you rolled your eyes opening the door “Ransom I’m serious I need to move on with things and” you started, waking into his office; he wasn’t even listening to you mumbling.

Ransom was laughing at something on the computer, not taking his eyes from it. The draft you left for Harlan (and now him) to read threw face down on the table.

You felt your blood boiling, rage filling your eyes. It’s not enough he’s constantly out to irritate you. He had to act like anything else wasn’t as important as him.

“You know what?” you snapped. “Don’t bother, I’ll just keep writing it and give it to Harlan when he’s back” you grabbed the paper from his desk.

Ransom held your arms, holding his other one up, signaling for you to wait. Not that you had a choice.

His grip was strong, not enough to hurt, but enough to make it impossible for you to move. At least that’s what you told yourself.

You were horny, and Ransom hasn’t made it easy for you, having to watch him always too close to you. He was a teaser, a menace. You were nearly done holding yourself back, ready to just let it go.

How bad could it be? Letting Ransom have his way with you? Maybe he was bad in bed and you would stop being so hot and bothered whenever he was around.

Maybe sleeping with him was what you needed to get pass this. At least that’s what you told yourself.

“Ransom, I don’t have all day” you hissed. Ransom closed his computer, looking back at you.

“See? Wasn’t that long now was it?” he let go of your arm, leaning on his chair with his arms around his body, examining you.

You turned the papers around, seeing notes on it, you frowned. “Did Harlan read this before leaving?” you asked, confused.

“Of course not” Ransom quickly said, as if it was obvious, that stupid smirk on his face. “You did this?”, you were confused, disbelieving how actually good those notes were.

And also, how Ransom they were, with plenty of “eat shit” to a character he didn’t like and “wtf????”s marked all over, but there were also good notes, great feedback.

“Yeah” he shrugged, your brows knitted together “I’ve been reading it since the start” he simply said, making you even more incredulous.

“I was intrigued after you first book, wanted to see if it was beginners luck or if you really had it”, were you delusional? Ransom Drysdale read your book?

“You read my book?” you couldn’t stop the words from coming out, still trying to put his words together in your brain.

Ransom had such an effect on you. You hated it.

“Of course, what do you think I’m doing here?” he raised a brow at you, a coy smile on his face. You frowned at him.

Ransom, then, started to move, going around his desk into your direction. He held your gaze as he approached you.

You could feel your arousal as you followed his movements. You tried cursing yourself and snapping out of it, but Ransom was too close, too sudden, too intoxicating.

“What happened, princess?” he mewled, you gulped at the pet-name, its effects quickly sending goosebumps all over your body.

You thanked that mansion for being cold, your sweater hiding how much of an effect he had on you.

“Lost your words, sweetheart?” he raised your face with a finger, examining you, you didn’t dare to move. His eyes were dark, his pupils consumed with lust.

“Always so eager to reply right back at me, honey, what happened?” he was mocking you. Yet, you could only bit your lips, holding back the whimpers.

“Bet I could just bent you over this desk and claim you mine” he taunted, your eyes widened at his words, partly because you wanted him to stop, partly because you were almost begging him to do that.

It was getting pretty hard to control yourself. You pressed your thighs together slightly, but Ransom caught you.

“Oh, I see the problem here” he smirked, “you’re too wet to even form sentences aren’t you?” he turned you both so you were caged around his arms, pressing you on the desk, towering over you.

“My dumb girl” he ran his lips through your jawline, you whined, throwing your head back at the feelings, all becoming too much “so ready for daddy,” his hands were now traveling your body “but I need words, baby”.

“Ransom” you tried, your voice filled with need. You knew you shouldn’t do it, you should not allow this much power to anyone, especially him.

But you didn’t care, you grabbed his expensive scarf pushing him to your lips. He hungrily accepted the act, devouring your mouth, tongue and teeth as the kiss invaded all your senses.

Ransom pulled away, back at taking his sweet time torturing you, rubbing your cheeks as you pouted.

“What is it that you need, kitten?” He ran a finger through your pants, just to see you squirm “use your big girl words” he scolded, coming closer to your ears, his hands stopping at your centre, his fingers caressing you through your pants.

“I need you” you chose to go against reason, you only wanted him at that moment. The trust fund prick, staining you with his hands and touches, unmatched to anything you ever felt before.

Ransom opened your pants, slowly dragging them down your body, on his knees. He could now see the goosebumps and shrives at every touch of his hands, caressing your thighs, kissing his way up where you needed him most, sweet sounds leaving your mouth.

You found balance on his desk, spreading your legs. “That needy, uh?” he hummed, rubbing his fingers through your panties, his eyes widening at how soaked they were.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you hanging” he ripped the underwear out of your body, shoving it in his pockets “I’ll take care of you, will have you screaming my name” it was a promise he intended to keep.

You were completely exposed to him, body flushed and ready, dripping for him. He parted your lips with his fingers, humming at how ready you were for him.

In one motion, Ransom slipped his tongue in your heat, you moaned at the feeling. His tongue teased your entrance, and explored every inch of your mound. You jerked your hips, still looking for more friction.

“Bet if I add two fingers at once your greedy pussy will take them so well” he purred “so greedy for daddy” he hummed, his two fingers stretching you and hitting you sweet spot at every thrust.

You cried out his name as his tongue circled and sucked on your clit. The pleasure was getting too much, you senses blown away by Ransom’s movements.

You don’t ever remember feeling this good, having someone knowing you so well. Ransom took his time to watch your every reaction, his fingers at a perfect pace, his tongue driving you over the edge.

You never came this hard, your body shaking and weak, as curses, moans and Ransom’s name was all that could leave your mouth.

Ransom stood up, shoving his fingers in your mouth so you could taste yourself. You moaned and sucked on his fingers shamelessly enjoying every second of it.

“That good, uh?” he said, that cocky bastard. You never hated that smirk so much as you did now.

Especially because you couldn’t even respond to him, your dizzy head spinning as you recovered. Your hands gripping the desk for balance.

You were beyond wrong. That was the worst idea you ever had. Ransom would ruin anyone else for you. There was no way you wouldn’t want him more after today.

“Sweetie, are you there?” Ransom cupped your cheeks, the coy smirk still in his face. “That was….” you tried finding the words, biting your lips.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” he said, looking at you with a proud smile on his face. “Feel like returning the favor, bunny?” he raised a brow at you, as you nodded.

Ransom removed his pants, “wanna see what that pretty mouth can do before I fuck you stupid” he taunted, freeing his cock.

You sank down to your knees, palming his length, the precum visible in his swollen tip. Your mouth watered at the sight, he was big, you gulped, body tensing a little.

“Oh, don’t worry kitten” Ransom mocked “it will fit” he said, stroking his length, bringing it to your mouth.

You left your tongue out, welcoming him, the salty precum filling your mouth. You sucked the reddened tip, your tongue swirling around it. Ransom’s eyes going wide as he groaned.

He grabbed your hair, pulling his length into you. you hallowed your cheek and took him all, gagging as he tried to fit in your mouth.

“Doing so good for daddy, sweetie” he praised “such a good girl taking all of my cock” you moaned at the words, making his dick twitch in your mouth.

He increased his pace, growling and moaning as he pounded into your mouth. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good, sweetie” his thrusts were sloppy, losing his pace as he got closer to his release.

Then, he stopped, pulling you out of him and into your feet. Ransom pulled you back to the desk, spinning you until you were sited, legs on his waist.

You removed his shirt and pulled him closer to you, kissing his lips. You both moaned as your tastes collided. You ran your hands through his hairs, making a mess on his perfectly neat hair.

Ransom growled as you pulled him, gripping your hips, slowly sinking into you slowly. You whined as you felt your walls stretching to fit him.

“So tight, baby” Ransom said, burying his face in your neck “can feel you squeezing me, fuck” he began to increase his pace, slamming his hips faster.

You threw your head back, your legs pressing his waist tighter, feeling him balls deep inside you.

“Gonna ruin all other men for you” Ransom groaned “gonna have your greedy pussy all for myself now” you nearly screamed at his words.

“Ransom, don’t stop” you begged squirming and moaning all for him. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, daddy’s gotcha” he whispered in your ear, his voice low and raspy sending shrives down your body.

Ransom began pounding even faster, biting and kissing your neck, his thumb in a perfect pace in your clit. It was mind blowing. Ransom knew how to touch all the right places.

You could feel your bodies working in a perfect rhythm. You could feel how Ransom didn’t stop kissing and touching you. How his free hand was grabbing your leg, strong enough to leave his mark on you.

You could also see the look on his face, his body and the sounds that left his mouth showing that he was just as in it as you. Red skin, flushed expression and sweat covering his body. His hair was a mess, as you pushed and pull to bring him impossibly closer to you.

His thrusts were losing their pace, becoming sloppy as you could feel the waves of your orgasm hitting you. White hot spots of pleasure taking over your body.

You were in a blissful state, holding yourself in Ransom, finding balance in his shoulders, leaning towards him as he drove you through your high; still chasing his own release.

Ransom was lost in the feeling, your pussy pulsating and squeezing him even tighter than before. He never felt so good in his life.

“Want me to fill you up, sweetie?” he could barely make sense of his words, lost in you “yes, daddy, please” you whined, and that drove Ransom wild, straight to his own orgasm.

You could fill his warm cum spilling inside you, filling you up as he moaned loudly, his forehand meeting yours as you were both breathing heavily.

Ransom cleaned you up with his boxers, helping you find your clothes.

Holding them out for you, he raised a finger to his chin and grinned “you know, there’s showers in here” he winked, still looking at you.

“Well, I could actually use a warm bath now” you replied, winked back at him. Ransom laughed and let you the mansion. You were wearing nothing but his sweaters.

You had no idea what you were doing. All you knew is that somehow you still needed more of him.

You were completely intoxicated by Ransom Drysdale, the trust fund prick. And tonight, he could take you wherever he wanted.

[libertarianblue]

Full disclosure, I’m getting ready for bed so I didn’t listen to the 35 minute NPR interview. But I did hunt down the NYT article:

Genuinely didn’t expect to see a colder-than-space take on guns right off the bat so that was a treat. It also alerts me this probably isn’t going to be an op-ed written in good faith in general. I’m going to resist the urge to get into the gun grabber nonsense, though, since I started this post to focus on the efforts to censor everyone but themselves. Anyone that remembers the general quality of the reporting (and tweeting from media figures, more broadly) following the Boulder shooting can hopefully see the irony in a journalist complaining about lies being spread in the aftermath.

They then briefly go into the importance of newly introduced media literacy classes and how the youth have a responsibility to take those lessons and teach them to their family. The article doesn’t say what this training entails but it does link to “Disinfo Day” resources. I didn’t watch these because they’re all long youtube videos and I’m going to bed shortly, so I’ll not comment on their validity. I do see one of them is about finding fact checkers and I’m interested to hear if Snopes and co. are in their recommendations.

After that they celebrate Fox News being sued, remind everyone that the majority of Republicans don’t have confidence in our most recent elections, and then encourage election software companies to sue Donald Trump, I guess in an effort to change how Republicans feel about the election. They also seemingly imply the bar for libel should be lowered for Trump.

Then they close out with this:

The big thing I want to call attention to is that mask slip there, “Sure, removing social media’s immunity from the untruthful things said on their platforms could mean the end of the internet as we know it. True. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

Note that these would be the same protections that Trump and co had been attacking during his term. The main difference is in the seeming end goal. The argument from conservatives over the past couple years has been that Twitter and co are unfairly enjoying the protections of a platform while behaving as a publisher by deleting or editorializing content. Their (stated) goal was to prevent these websites from being able to curate the messaging of their users. The (apparent) goal of the author of this op-ed is to remove these protections in order to force websites to delete even more content, allowing only approved messages to be published. I probably don’t have to explain the red flags that raises, or at least I hope not because I really need to get to sleep.

In closing, here’s a follow-up tweet/thought:

EDIT: Almost forgot to mention. Over the past few years I’ve noticed it seems like only people with zero credibility use the word “unfettered.”

[storiesforallfandoms]

she ain’t a gold digger ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2417

request?: yes!

“Hi, please write a MGK imagine where the reader joins him on tour and he loses his wallet and when they decide to go out to a club one night, she asks him to get something from her bag and he sees his wallet in there. He accuses her of stealing and they get into a fight and she storms off. One of the guys confesses that they found it in their suitcase by accident and just slipped it in her purse to keep it safe but forgot to tell him and he apologizes profusely to reader and after some persuasion she forgives him”

description: when his wallet goes missing and he finds it in her bag, he lets the tabloids bullshit get to him and causes a fight he regrets

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, angst

masterlist (one, two)

The hotel room was basically overturned when (Y/N) walked in. Colson was tossing things from his suitcase, frantically searching for something.

“We’ve only been here like five minutes, is it really time to pull a full Motley Crue on this room?” she teased.

“I can’t find my wallet,” Colson said, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

“What?”

“It’s not in my suitcase, it’s not in any of my pants - the ones in my suitcase or the ones I’m wearing - it’s not in my carry on or my jacket.”

(Y/N) crossed the room to kneel next to Colson. She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. In a more calm manner, she looked through the things Colson had messily thrown about the floor. She helped him to look for the millionth time through everything, coming up empty yet again.

“Okay, don’t panic,” she said. “You had it at the airport because it was with your passport. We can call both this airport and the one we just departed from to see if it’s been turned in. In the meantime, we can lock your cards so no one can use them.”

Colson nodded, but (Y/N) could see the panic in his eyes. She cupped his face and made him look up at her. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll find it, and if we don’t we’ll replace it the best we can.”

~~~~~~

Despite the stress he was still feeling, Colson decided to join (Y/N) and his friends at the club that night. He was glued to his phone the entire ride there, and once they got to the club (Y/N) took it and shoved it into her purse.

“Relax,” she told him. “We’re here to have a good time.”

“But what if someone calls about my wallet?” he asked.

“Then they’ll leave a message. I highly doubt anyone is calling you at almost midnight, though.” (Y/N) laced her fingers through Colson’s and pressed her body against his. “Please baby? For me?”

Colson sighed but (Y/N) could see the smile on his face. “Fine, but you’re paying for my drinks tonight.”

He had to admit the night out was what he needed. Besides the panic over his wallet, Colson had also basically worked himself to death the past few months. Between recording and filming, and now the tour. He was just grateful that his manager allowed (Y/N) to join them on tour. He’d be out of his mind without her.

(Y/N) pushed through the crowd to where Colson and his friends were and passed Colson his drink. He smiled and pulled her down onto his lap. (Y/N) giggled as Colson pressed a kiss onto her neck.

“If you guys are gonna fuck, do us the curtesy of going to the bathroom,” Rook called over the music.

“Please, I’m more classy than that,” Colson responded. “I’d fuck her in the coat closet like a gentleman.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and stood. “I’m gonna go dance. Enjoy your boy talk.”

Colson watched the beautiful curved figure of his girlfriend strut to the dancefloor. He finished his drink in one mouthful and went to follow her.

They danced together for so long that Colson had forgotten all of his worried for a brief period of time. He gazed lovingly into the face of the love of his life as she grinded her hips against his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sheepishly smiled up at him.

“Wanna get out of here?” she whispered seductively in his ear.

“More than anything,” Colson responded. “I’ll get our things. Meet me at the front doors.”

(Y/N) smiled and winked at him as they went their separate ways. Colson pulled out the coat check tickets to get his jacket and (Y/N)’s purse, and passed it to the girl working there. As he shrugged on his jacket, he got the overwhelming urge to check his phone to see if anyone had called about his wallet.

He promised (Y/N) he’d have a good time, but she didn’t have to know he checked. He would just look and see if there were any missed calls then forget until morning.

However, when he opened (Y/N)’s purse to get her phone, he noticed something on the very top: his wallet.

Why does she have my wallet? he thought. And why wouldn’t she tell me that she had it? She knows how worried I’ve been about it.

He tried not to overthink anything before talking to (Y/N) first. He made his way to the front of the club where (Y/N) was waiting with a joint hanging partially out of her mouth. She looked over at him and smiled as a puff of smoke rolled from her lips.

“Are you ready to go?” she asked. When she noticed Colson’s serious look, her smile fell. “Babe, are you okay? Did something happen?”

He found his words stuck in his throat, so instead of speaking he just held his wallet up.

“Holy shit! Is that your wallet?” Colson nodded, still unable to talk. “Where did you find it?!”

“In your purse.”

(Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What? How did it get in my purse?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

She looked up at him as she took another puff from the joint. “What does that mean?”

“It doesn’t mean anything, I’m just asking a question. This is your purse after all, the only people who touch it are you and me. Obviously I didn’t put the wallet in there so that leaves one person.”

(Y/N) crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “Say it Colson. Fucking say it.”

“Did you take my wallet (Y/N)?”

“No! Of course I didn’t!”

“Then why is it in your purse?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and turned away from Colson. She started to walk away, but he followed her.

“If you took it, I just want to know why,” he said. “I’m not upset, I know there’s likely a good reason for taking it and not telling me.”

“I didn’t fucking take it!” (Y/N) snapped, spinning around to glare at Colson. “I know how this looks, I know it makes no sense, but I fucking swear to you I did not take your fucking wallet. I don’t know how it got in my purse, I don’t know why it’s there, but I did not take your goddamn wallet!”

“Then why the fuck is it in your purse?!”

(Y/N) let out a frustrated groan and buried her head in her hands. “Why can’t you just fucking believe me when I say I didn’t take it? I don’t know how it got in my purse, but I didn’t take it.”

“It just doesn’t make sense to me, (Y/N). How else would it have gotten there? You’re the only one who even touches your purse, none of the guys have had access to it. You knew when and where I had my wallet last, and now it’s showing up in your bag.”

“If I had taken it, why was I trying to help you find it? Why did I tell you to shut down your cards so no one could use them? Why was I helping you to call the airports and turn over the entire hotel room another two times looking for it? Why would I go to those lengths if I just had it instead of telling you just to replace it all?”

“I don’t know, (Y/N), maybe you were just making sure you could get whatever fucking money you could from me without me realizing.”

(Y/N)’s face fell and her eyes started to well with tears. After being together for a year, she thought he would know her better than that. She thought he wouldn’t believe the bullshit tabloid websites were publishing about her being a gold digger and just dating Colson for the money. She thought he would knew she loved him with her entire heart because of who he was, not because he was a famous rapper.

Apparently she was wrong.

Without another word, (Y/N) turned away from him and walked towards the line up of taxis that were waiting outside of the club. Colson watched her go, his anger starting to subside and be replaced by guilt. But he couldn’t go after her, he wouldn’t. He needed some time to think about all of this, to let her think about it as well. Neither one of them were going to get any answers if they kept fighting and hurting one another.

Colson entered the club again, order two more strong drinks and finding his way back to his boys. They all looked at him with confusion as he sat down where he had been before.

“Dude, I thought you left,” Baze said.

“I thought so, too, until I found my wallet in (Y/N)’s purse,” Colson muttered. “We got into a fight and she left.”

“Why were you fighting about that?” Rook asked, his eyebrows furrowing together.

Colson waved off the comment, not feeling in the mood to relay the entire fight back to his friends.

“Wait, did I not tell you I put the wallet there?” Slim asked.

Colson nearly choked on one of his drinks. He coughed and turned to look at his friend. “You fucking had it?”

“Yeah man, it somehow got in my carry on,” Slim responded. “I found it when we were waiting for our luggage. I put it in (Y/N)’s purse cause I knew it would be safe there. I could’ve swore I told you that, though.”

“You didn’t,” Colson said. “God fucking dammit, I’m an idiot.”

“What did you say to her, man?” Baze asked.

“I...I insinuated that she...she’s only with me for my money and she stole my wallet so she could get it.”

The guys chorused disapproving noises at the same time.

“Kells, (Y/N) is literally the realest person I’ve ever met,” Rook said. “She ain’t a gold digger, and you definitely shouldn’t think that she is.”

“I don’t,” Colson sighed. “I was just pissed. God, I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Bro,” Slim said, leaning forward to look at Colson, “go after your woman and apologize.”

Colson nodded and quickly stood from his seat. The cab ride back to the hotel felt incredibly slow. Of course, he had left his phone in (Y/N)’s purse so he couldn’t even call or text her. There was no guarantee that she was even at the hotel, and that thought had Colson’s anxiety so much higher.

He desperately searched his pockets for the hotel key as he approached the room. When he couldn’t find it, he realized it was likely he had left that in (Y/N)’s purse, too. He sighed and began knocking on the door.

“(Y/N)?” he said, his voice soft. “Baby, can you let me in? I think my key is in your purse.” When there was no movement, he added, “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I should’ve listened to you. Slim admitted to putting my wallet in your bag, turns out he had it all along. I...I should never have thought it was you. I shouldn’t have said what I said. Can...can you let me in, please?”

There was silence. Not even signs of movement. Colson’s heart began to race as he realized the likeliness that (Y/N) had left. He had no idea where she could’ve gone, and now he didn’t even have any way of reaching her.

The door suddenly opened and (Y/N)’s tearstained face looked up at him. She didn’t say anything as she turned away and walked back into the hotel room. Colson followed in silence, unsure of what else to say. He just wanted to hold her and apologize forever, to do anything and everything she wanted to make things better.

(Y/N) got back into bed and laid with her back to Colson. He stood there in the dark, just looking at her.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“You called me a gold digger,” (Y/N) responded, her voice equally as small. “After almost a year together, you called me a fucking gold digger.”

“I know - ”

“We’ve talked about how much those tabloid stories get to me, how upset they make me, and you really had the audacity to bring that up and not believe me when I said that I didn’t take your wallet.”

The fact that her voice wasn’t angry, but rather sad, made everything so much worse. Colson winced at her words, feeling a lump form in his throat.

“I know,” he repeated. “I don’t know why I said any of that. I didn’t mean it, I know you love me. I just...I have no excuses. I am a total fucking idiot and you have every right to be angry with me. I know I’m sorry won’t cut it, but for now that’s all I can say. I really am sorry.”

There was another prolonged silence. (Y/N) didn’t even move from her place on the bed. Colson had accepted the fact that she probably hated him and was preparing to go stay with one of the guys for the night, when he heard the bed shift and (Y/N)’s soft voice ask, “Did the guys give you shit?”

Colson smiled to himself. “Yeah, they did. They called me an idiot.”

“You are one.”

“I know.”

Through the darkness of the room, Colson could see (Y/N) lift the blankets and gesture for him to join her. He quickly kicked off his shoes and threw his jacket somewhere on the floor. The minute his body connected with hers, he felt relief wash over him. He hugged her tightly, never wanting to let her go.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head and repeating the sentiment over and over.

“And I love you, as in you - Colson Baker. Not Machine Gun Kelly, not the man with the money. I love the real you.”

“I know you do. I promise I’ll never doubt that again baby.”

(Y/N) relaxed into Colson’s arms, still a bit hurt from what he had said but happy to have him there with her. Finally, after some time, the two drifted off to sleep.

[petri808]

hiii i am absolutely obsessed with ur drabbles could u please do nalu #4 and #39 pls🥺

“Walk out that door and we’re through” + “Please come home, I miss you”

This was tough cause the questions could trigger a story similar to this one I also did for these prompt asks round. But I think I can make it different enough, albeit angst hell 😅 here we go! It’s a little rushed but longer then I expected for a ficlet lol

“Lucy,” Natsu knocked at the office door, “it’s time to go.”

“Where?” She answered without looking up.

“Levy’s birthday party.”

“Oh!” Lucy sat up in her desk chair and turned her body to face her husband. “Right! I forgot. Um, shucks, but I’m on a writing high right now and I can’t stop— tell her I’ll make it up to her, will ya?”

She always says that… Natsu sighed, “yeah, sure…”

Levy Redfox was Lucy’s childhood best friend and while the woman was also his friend, it just didn’t sit well with Natsu that she’d choose writing over the woman. But this had been an ongoing issue lately... Don’t get him wrong, he fully supported his wife’s career as an author, especially now that it’s really starting to take off. The issue was it had consumed her at the expense of everyone around her.

He knocked on their friends door, answered by Levy herself.

“Natsu!” Levy hugged the man excitedly, but when she noticed he was alone, frowned a tad. “Again, huh?”

“I’m sorry, Levy,” Natsu’s shoulders slumped. “Lucy’s in a,” he made quotation marks in the air, “‘writing high,’ and said she’ll make it up to you.”

“Well, I’m glad you came,” the woman smiled despite the sadness hiding behind her eyes.

All of their closest friends were in attendance and spent the evening talking, eating, and playing a few fun birthday games. It distracted him to some extent, but as the night wore down and the other guests had all left, Natsu, his best friend Gray Fullbuster, Levy, and her husband Gajeel sat around in the living room talking about the elephant in the room. Lucy.

“I’ve tried talking to her,” Levy said quietly, “but, I try not to make it sound too harsh.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what you need to do babe,” Gajeel chimed in. “Be blunt.”

“Yeah, I’m like you,” Natsu agreed with Levy. “It’s not easy to bring it up cause she’s oblivious about it.”

“But it’s hurting your marriage man!” Gray looked at Natsu. “And your friendship,” he switched to Levy. “I’m with Gajeel. If you aren’t honest with her, it’s not gonna get better.”

“Think I don’t know that?!” Natsu spat back. “Think I enjoy being the only one in that house in pain?! I don’t, but—” his voice cracked, “I’m worried I’ll push her away if I say something.”

“She’s already pushing you away dude. Do you still love her?”

“Of course, I do,” Natsu sighed. “I love her more than anything, but apparently it’s not enough… we haven’t even… you know, I can’t remember the last time.”

“Wow… Then you really gotta tell her. All of it,” Gray coaxed.

Levy who’d sat quietly through the back and forth, chimed in quietly. “Gray’s right. You should tell her, when you go home, just tell her how you’re feeling. And whatever happens, happens. We can just hope for the best.”

“You know you’ll be the first to hear from her if I do,” Natsu pointed out.

“I know. But… it’s time I come clean too.”

Natsu slumped back onto the couch and let out a depressed exhale. “And you,” he looked to Gray. “You know if it goes wrong I’ll be showing up at your door.”

“My couch has your name on it.”

“Gee, thanks.”

That had to be the longest drive home Natsu had ever taken, even though it was really just 10 minutes. He was a physical person by nature and never been very good at expressing his feelings in words. Words were his wife’s domain. There were a lot of things he wanted to say, but his biggest fear was saying things wrong. With his hand on the doorknob, Natsu took one last breath and opened the door to her office. He knew before entering, Lucy was still working by the clacks of the keyboard and interrupting would immediately cause friction. But he couldn’t wait anymore.

“I’m home,” Natsu called out… with no response. He sighed and spoke more sternly. “Lucy. I’m home.”

“Oh, welcome home,” she finally responded. “How was the party?”

He knew it was an empty question, because she never even looked up or stopped typing and it meant she wasn’t really listening. “Lucy… we need to talk.”

“I’m kinda busy Natsu.”

“I know, but you’re always busy Lucy. That’s part of the problem.” The moment the last word came out, Natsu knew instantly he’d picked the wrong one. Crap.

Lucy stopped typing, turned off the screen and shut the laptop. “Problem?” She turned the chair around with her eyes narrowed in a focused glare. “What do you mean, problem?”

“Lucy,” he ran a hand down his face, “I don’t want to fight, but we need to talk— there’s a lot we need to talk about.”

“Like what?” She crossed her arms. “What is so important that you need to mess with my job?”

There it was.

“I’m not trying to do that,” he sighed. “You know how proud I am of your career. But, it feels as if you’re choosing your career over everything else in your life. Me, your friends, we’re all just being pushed aside—”

“Are you kidding me?!” Lucy shot out of her chair shaking in anger. “I am not doing any of that! I’m not pushing anyone away! Y-You’re the one who’s acting selfish trying to tell me I’m not giving you enough attention! And don’t you bring Levy into this! If this was bothering her she’d tell me!”

“It does bother her! But she’s afraid of getting,” he gestured with his hands up and down at Lucy, “this reaction! Is it selfish to want to spend some time with my own wife?!” Natsu growled. “We never spend time together anymore! You’re just always hunched over that damn computer!”

“I’m doing my job!” Lucy shrieked. “I have deadlines to meet! This story ain’t gonna write itself! Research ain’t gonna materialize on its own! It’s a lot of work!”

“Lucy,” Natsu pinched his brows together, trying hard to stop from snapping further as well as to control the tears building in his eyes. “I love you, more than anything in this world, but I don’t know what happened to the woman I’d married. The old Lucy wouldn’t abandon her loved ones like this.”

“You’re just mad because I’m successful now.”

“That’s bullshit! And you know it! No job is worth losing the people you care about, and if you can’t understand that, then, I don’t know what else to say!”

“Then I guess there isn’t anything more to say,” she spat back.

“I guess not.” Natsu answered softly, turned and left the room.

He’d already assumed confronting Lucy about her precious career would not end well, and he was right. Staying would only cause more trouble. So, he quietly packed a suitcase to go to Gray’s house, making sure to bring anything he’d need because he had no idea how long he’d stay there. He’d said his peace; it really was all in Lucy’s hands now.

Back in her office, Lucy dropped back down into her chair as the full weight of what just transpired hit her like a ton of bricks. She cradled her face in her hands as the anger that had fueled her response suddenly mixed with sadness. Tears flowed free. Did that really just happen?! She could hear Natsu moving around in the bedroom, the opening of drawers, the closet, the zipping sound of the suitcase, each and every step driving a knife deeper and deeper. How dare he tell her to stop writing! This was her dream! Her livelihood! Why couldn’t he just support her instead of acting like a child who wasn’t getting attention!

When she heard Natsu walking towards the front door area, Lucy raced out of the room to confront him one last time.

“Walk out that door and we’re through!” She screamed. “Do you hear me? We’re through!”

Natsu ignored her words knowing it was the anger talking… hoping it was just the emotions fueling her rage. “I’ll be at Gray’s,” he simply responded with a hint of sadness in his tone. “You should really think long and hard about this Lucy, because if not, you’ll lose a lot more than you realize.” And with that, he closed the front door behind him.

Lucy crumpled to the ground and wailed— raged, banging the floor with her fists as the sobbing overtook her. She truly could not understand what brought this on. Hadn’t she been a good wife?! Faithful! Hard working! What more did he want?! All she was doing was trying to make it in the cut-throat world of publishing. Does he not understand how hard it is to make it in that world?! She pulled her phone from her pocket and started to dial Levy’s phone number. But just as she got to the last two numbers, she stopped. It was already 1 am, and it would be rude to wake her friend up. Lucy sniffled and hung her head in shame before dragging herself back towards the bedroom. She’ll just call in the morning.

When Levy answered the phone, Lucy was slightly taken aback by the response. Not a hello, just a, ‘I wondered when you’d call.’ Evidently the woman was expecting it, but she was too tired to let it add to her problems. She hadn’t slept much after Natsu left— no surprise. She was still angry, but also confused, sad, and just mentally drained of life. Her friend agreed to come over in a bit, so Lucy dragged herself into the shower hoping it would make her feel better.

“Wow, you don’t look good,” Levy remarked at her friend.

“Hi to you too,” Lucy mumbled as she moved to the side to let her friend in. “Who would after a fight?”

Once settled on the couch, Levy went straight to the point before Lucy could even begin. “I already know what this is about. I know Natsu’s side, so start with yours.”

“Wow— okay, well—” Lucy pulled her legs up and tucked them underneath her body in a protective mode. “He tried to tell me to stop writing and I thought that was bullshit,” she said bluntly.

Levy’s brow raised. “Is that exactly what he said? To stop writing?”

“W-Well no, but that what he implied!”

“What did he say exactly?”

Lucy looked away, a scowl growing on her face and to hide the renewed moisture in her eyes. “He said I’m pushing everyone away.”

“And you don’t agree?”

“No! I’m not choosing my career over everyone! It’s ridiculous to even imply that I would!”

“Lu, do you still love your husband?”

“Of course, I love him!”

“Are you sure he knows you still love him?”

“I—” Lucy crossed her arms over her chest and sunk further into the couch mumbling. “I don’t see why he wouldn’t.”

“I can tell you, he doesn’t. Lu, you’ve pushed all of us away.”

“So, you’re taking his side?!”

“No. I’m giving you reality. You’ve been wrapped up in your fictional world so much that you’ve forgotten this one and the real people in it.”

“I—” Lucy turned away to hide the tears slowly starting to trickle down her face. “I never meant to…”

“I know…” Levy placed a hand on her friends leg. “Lu, we all know. He knows, but he’s hurting and it’s in your power to fix this.”

“But how?! I can’t just stop writing. I have deadlines and— you know, its a lot of work to put a story together.”

“You have to find a balance. Right?” Levy coaxed. “You have to take breaks. You have to relax sometimes. Natsu’s not asking you to stop, and he knows there will be times you really can’t stop. But it can’t be all the time, and right now it’s all the time.”

“I know…”

“Girl when was the last time you…” Levy wiggled her brows and grinned. “You know.”

Lucy blushed. “Too long.”

“Well?!” Levy laughed. “Are you finally getting our point?”

“Yeah,” Lucy sighed. “I got tunneled vision.”

Levy leaned in, adding pressured from the hand on Lucy’s leg and a softening in her voice. “And it put your marriage in jeopardy. But it’s not too late to fix it.”

The tears exploded from Lucy. “I told him… when he left, I-I told him don’t come back.” She buried her face in her hands as the sobbing took control. “I-I was screaming at him… so angry, I just lost it and—”

Levy pulled Lucy into a hug. “Shhh,” she held tight. “I’m sure he knew you didn’t mean it. Shh, it’s okay. Sometimes we say things we don’t mean when we’re mad. But you can still get him back, I’m certain of it.”

“H-how?!” Lucy sobbed into Levy’s shoulder. “He’s gotta be so mad at me!”

“Hun, Natsu’s more sad then mad. He needs to feel like you still love him.” Levy pulled away and cupped Lucy’s cheeks, staring, searching the woman’s eyes. “Can you tell him you love him?”

“I can tell him I love him,” Lucy sniffled.

“Then go tell him that!” She hugged her friend. “You’ll be okay Lu, you two are meant to last.”

“Thanks, Levy.”

“He’s at Gray’s right? Want me to drive you?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Levy smiled. “Now clean up a bit, I’ll wait in the car.”

The whole ride over to Gray’s house was the most nerve wracking experience in Lucy’s life. As she sat there huddled in Levy’s passenger seat, all the ways she could ever apologize tried to funnel through her head. She was a writer, and yet for the first time in a long time, all the words dried up or mashed together like a broken verse. Levy did her best to keep Lucy calm, reminding her that it’s all about being honest— just let your heart do the talking for once and not her head.

“You got this,” Levy patted Lucy’s shoulder before she exited the vehicle.

Lucy sure hoped she did. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Seconds ticked by and with each chime, all the weight and worry crept closer to sending her over. He was mad. Too mad. He probably won’t answer…

Finally someone did. “You came?” Natsu’s voice was soft and low, his eyes still bloodshot and worn.

“I came,” Lucy hung her head in shame. “I’m sorry— F-For everything, Natsu please come home, I miss you. I love you more than my job, and I’m gonna make it up to you.”

“You always say that Lucy…”

Ouch. Straight through her heart. The tears broke free again as her knees weakened, causing her to fall against him. Natsu caught her, and she clung to him, gripped to his shirt. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please come home! I love you! Natsu please come home! I can change! I promise I’ll change!”

That’s when she felt his hold truly tighten around her body and his head come to rest against her own. Lucy sobbed harder from the acceptance, pouring her heart in her words. “I love you… I love you so much, I’m so sorry….”

Natsu cradled her head and closed his eyes, voice soft with an upbeat to its tone. “Now there’s the woman I married.”

He held Lucy tightly until her sobbing slowed, eventually pulling away just enough to wipe the tear trails away. “Shall we go home now?”

Lucy nodded. “Please….”

[emperor-palpaminty]

Killing Time

Because nothing can kill a relationship like lies.

A modern AU where crosshair is a hitman and you're his loyal girlfriend who happens to be in the bodyguard business, but neither one of you know the other's careers

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, making oit and allusions to smut, also this is in no way accurate to real life and it's just dramatic, please don't hurt me lol

children you have full permission to run away and not come here, in fact please run away

Very few things phased you. The only things that brought you to your precipice of agitation was burning pasta, your phone charger not working, and showing up to your shift only to realize someone had been killing all your clients.

Who said keeping people alive was easy? No one, that was who, and if anyone said it they were wrong or had no experience working with others whatsoever. Making sure others lived to see their next day was deadly business, for the people that were trying to live, at least.

“Charles!” You barked, feet hitting the floor of the bull pen. “What the hell happened?” You slammed your files on your desk, face warm, head just about collapsing with pressure. Your fingers pressed to your temples, hoping that they would grip it, hold it together. “Burke was alive when I left last night.”

“Doesn't matter now." Your coworker dropped his sandwich onto his desk. "Burke is fucking dead now. As dead as a doorknob." He swallowed his bite. "Luckily, you weren't on shift when it happened, so you aren't gonna catch any fire for it."

"Shit, Charles, a man is dead." You collapsed in your chair, a gentle "oomph" escaping your mouth. Your lips pressed together in agitation and you moaned to yourself. "This is the third one in two months. Sure, I'll get a couple cold bodies, but-"

"But this is a lot." Charles sunk into his own chair, grabbing for his sandwich again.

You stared at him, disbelief coating your gaze. "One is a lot, Charles," You snarled, grabbing at the folder on your desk. "Any leads?"

"Oh, yeah. But they're all at Burke's mansion." Charles tossed the crust of his lunch into the trash can. "I can drive ya."

"No, I'll take my car," You grumbled. You swiped the keys from your desk and stood, stalking back towards the elevator, anger eating away at you.

If one more of your clients- YOUR own clients- got killed, you would have to start pulling full shifts again.

___

Your shoes, practical, did little more than tap against the marble floor as you ducked under the Police tape. You skimmed the scene, frowning, eyes gracing past a particularly nasty chunk of gore on the wall. "Shot from above," You mumbled, glancing at the shattered window.

The mansion was huge. You'd been coming here for nearly a year now to keep an eye on Burke, and it still shocked you when you saw the absolute volume of the home. How much house would one man need, exactly?

In your years as a bodyguard you'd watched out for a lot of people- spoiled celebrities, prideful and arrogant politicians, and a particularly interesting Chef who had an unusual desire to cook everything with some kind of caffeine in it. That was probably your favorite client.

"Excuse me, miss," a voice broke the mumble in the next room, probably of detectives or cops sweeping the house for evidence. "You shouldn't-"

"I was Burke's bodyguard." You tugged your badge out or your pocket, allowing the interrupting police officer to take it and examine it. “You can verify with my assistant, Charles. Make sure you tell him he’s my assistant and not the other way around, though, he can be a dick.”

The cop hesitated, then gave a slight nod. “Well, we’re still cleaning up the scene.” His hands offered your badge back, and you slid it into your back pocket, satisfaction deflating. “You can come by later after it’s clean. Ballistics is running comparisons right now.” He paused and glanced at the shattered window. “Looks like the shot came from the garage. It’s the only side with no motion sensors or alarms.” The cop’s brows raised in interest. “Know why?”

“No.” You said, calmly, turning towards the front door. “I assume I can go there?” You heard no objection as you stepped outside, tugging your sunglasses back on over your eyes. The sun was unforgiving and you gave an involuntary hiss as the bright rays hit your eyes just right to temporarily give your vision black spots. You blinked strongly and hurried towards the garage. 

In truth, Burke had alarms everywhere except the garage because he had so many people and cars coming and going. For any new technology the billionaire was releasing, the man had drugs and other forms of entertainment coming in and out, and it was all stuff that would probably bring him down. That nondisclosure form was still somewhere in the house in some obscure filing cabinet and you really, really, really didn’t feel like having a lawsuit lurking over your shoulders. Life was too good- well, everything outside of people you were being paid to keep alive was good. 

Death really killed the whole “survival” business.

You clamored your way to the roof of the garage, noting the ladder was the same one that the gardener used around the several acres Burke owned. The police had to have put it here- the gardener only came in the mornings.

So who the hell climbed up here without a ladder? Most people didn’t want to put in the effort to scale this freehand or wedge between the wall of the garage and the fence to shimmy up. That someone had to be either very determined to kill Burke, for personal motive or financial motive.

You brushed off you pants and glanced around, looking down at the surface of the roof. Nothing- not even a bullet casing- had been left behind. You frowned and raked a hand through your hair, skimming your scalp as you examined the roof, walking to the edge closest to the window.

You stared in, at the shattered glass, pondering. Burke was heading to bed when he'd been shot, you assumed, so the assassian would have had to know his routine. Your mind ran through possibilities again, but you could come up with none that were motivated personally enough or fit enough to climb without much assistance. You trailed along the surface, frowning, unable to find anything, but paused at a smudge of black paint, small, on the corner of the roof.

____

You turned your car down the street, exhaling softly as you pulled into your driveway.

99. That was what the marks said. Very subtle, meant nothing, unless it was a birth year or graduating class. The cops had come back, irritated, snapped a couple of pictures, and told you off about your wild theories of a fiscally motivated assassian. Apparently, you watched too many scret agent movies, or something like that.

You opened the door of the car and climbed out, frustration making you slam it shut. You inhaled the scent of the yard- clean, fresh cut, and perhaps it could help soothe your anger before you went inside.

After fumbling on your Keychain, you unlocked the door and hurried in, locking it behind you. "Cross?"

A savory aroma wafted from the kitchen, and your mouth watered. Your toes found their way out of your shoes and you hurried to the kitchen, pausing briefly at the doorway.

Cross's lanky figure was leaning over the skillet, stirring something, pale hands moving in expertise across the stove top. "Darling, you're late." He drawled.

You sighed, fully entering the kitchen. "Yeah. Sorry." You leaned up and wrapped your arms around his waist, face pressing against his back. You sighed. The day felt a little less bad now- filled with him. "Work kept me."

"How was work?"

You grunted. "A killer. An absolute killer." The irony was not lost on you, but it was lost to your boyfriend. He thought you were an editor for some book publishing company, because cover was the most important thing. You were one of those people trying to stay alive, after all.

Lies hurt, but it was one of the necessary ones. A little lie.

"Yikes." His hands drew plates to himself. "Mine wasn't much better. Got a few new clients, a few new cases." He sighed. "The Baliff forgot to submit evidence."

You mumbled against his shirt. "Law school really paid off, huh?"

"I'll say." He turned around, adjusting your arms, slowly taking your chin and leaning down to peck you. You always melted at his kisses, knees weak and brain numb, and he seemed to know it every time. You hummed, running your hands up his chest, the irritation for the day pooling to your midsection as your fingers gripped his shirt, your lips pulling in on his.

Cross tugged away gently, and you whined, fingers stubbornly clasped. "Wow, really frustrated today."

"Yes," You mumbled.

His lips pressed towards one of their corners in a half smile, and he picked your head. "Go shower. Then we can eat and I'll take care of you."

You hummed, fingers reluctantly releasing him, and you hurried away to the bathroom. You paused at the dresser, rummaging through, grabbing an especially large t-shirt and hipster underwear. Comfort was more important at the moment.

You climbed into the shower, turning the water to as hot as you could and scrubbing yourself off, humming in pleasure as the day came off you and went down the drain. The floral scent of the soap remained, the purple bad working diligently to rid you of your grime and frustration. Lavender really is a natural relaxant. You sighed and leaned back briefly on the tile, feeling every muscle in you ease at the same time.

After toweling off and getting dressed, your padded to the kitchen where Cross was pouring a your favorite wine. You sighed happily, accepting the glass as he skimmed your fresh-showered body. "Thanks."

"Of course." Cross picked up his own glass, taking a sip, eyes still diligently stripping you on their own. You shivered slightly, setting down your glass and looking up at him. "Dinner's ready," He mumbled, leaning in, pressing a hand to the counter of either side of you, leaving your back to the counter. "But I would much rather start with dessert."

You drew in a breath as he pressed his lips to your neck, drawing out a sigh with his teeth. You wrapped your arms around his neck, humming in agreement, and he scooped you up. Your groaned as he drew your legs around his lips, shifting, the agitating heat pooling back between your legs. "That's a good idea." You mumbled, whimpering as he bucked his hips slightly. "I just showered, though."

"Then we can take another one," He hissed, lips covering yours. "You're so damn intoxicating."

You mumbled something against his lips, unable to get a coherent response out as he dropped you on the bed. You bounced briefly, giggling, and he yanked off his shirt and joined you, climbing over you and hovering. "Come here, sweetheart," His finger traced over your shirt between your breasts, running down to the hem. "Let's end the day on a good note."

You whimpered, neck straining as you leaned up for his kiss, and you felt Cross snarl against you, tugging your surrendered form up closer to him. Your body relaxed again, neck loosening and head back against the pillow as he tugged your own shirt up, eyes gleaming with a primal eagerness that made you swoon, ready to work out the agitation for the day you both had.

[marvelslut16]

Grilled cheese and cashmere sweaters

Prompt number: 5 “Unacceptable, try again.”

Fandom: Knives Out

Paring: Ransom Drysdale x reader

Rating: T

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Swearing. Asshole Ransom, obviously. Alludes to sexy times- nothing explicit. 

A/N:  It’s my first time writing for him, so thoughts? Also, no spoilers since this takes place prior to the movie/the events in the movie never take place au.

The moment you met Ransom Drysdale you couldn’t stand him, he was a pompous rich bitch that got everything handed to him on a silver platter. But you had to put up with him since you’re his grandfather’s assistant. Working under Harlan Thrombey is your golden ticket into the publishing world, so you weren’t going to let his extremely attractive, asshole of a grandson ruin that for you. 

The first time the two of you spoke was when Harlon was letting Ransom stay at the house, while the younger man’s house was getting new windows. A big feat apparently since he has floor to ceiling windows. That doesn’t surprise you, he’s got money, he’s full of himself, and he wants to show off; the windows make perfect sense. Fran had to take the day off so you decided to make Harlon a simple lunch of grilled cheese and tomato soup, while Marta sits and talks with him. 

Feeling generous you make another sandwich for Ransom, ladling another bowl of soup as well, you take the modest meal over to him. You set it on the table in front of him, he’s snacking on some airplane cookies while he flips through a playboy magazine- real classy. He scoffs at the food you set in front of him, barely sarong it a single glance. 

“Unacceptable, try again,” Ransom deadpans, turning his magazine sideways to enjoy the centerfold. You hear Harlon and Marta talk as they walk down the hall and closer to the kitchen so he can eat. “I prefer sourdough bread, not white,” Ransom lazily pokes at the sandwich, face contouring in disgust. “And I only eat Pule cheese.”

“Just to make your image look better I’m sure,” you sneer without thinking of the consequences of Harlon being within hearing distance of you. “No cheese is so good that it has to be worth six hundred dollars a pound. I decided to be nice and make you a grilled cheese, take or leave it. But I’m not making your entitled ass anything else.”

“Eat shit,” he sneers, finally looking up at you with his baby blues, leaning across the table.

“Eat your own shit Hugh,” you rest your forearms on the table, leaning closer to him as well. You two are so close you can feel his hot breath on you, and you can see the dark stubble of his five o’clock shadow starting to come in. 

In the kitchen Marta glances at Harlon worried that he’ll fire you for the way you treated his grandson. But all he does is smile, no one has stood up to Ransom before, not any one that could actually make him shut up. His fond, proud, smile, turns into a knowing grin as Ransom’s eyes sweep over your figure. You’ve piqued his grandson’s interest. 

After hundreds of horrendous innuendos and failed pickup lines, you finally agreed to go out with Ransom. Just so he would shut up, not because you were actually attracted to him or anything. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. The date was nothing special, no fancy restaurants to show off his wealth. Instead he ordered from the fanciest restaurant and you ate at his house. Him hiding you on the first date should have been an immediate red flag, but you forgot everything but his name when you fell into his bed after dinner. The next morning you woke up in a white knit cashmere sweater of his, it’s still your favorite to this day months later. Ransom isn't romantic, he was already out of the bed and came back from a morning run by the time you woke up. 

 But months later now, you’re getting sick of his lack of romanticism and his wandering eye. You knew going into this what a handful Ransom was, but a dumb part of you thought he’d change when you started dating. But he didn’t. Eight months in and your relationship is still hidden, with the exception of Harlon and Marta. Luckily Harlon only caught you two swapping spit, while poor Marta witnessed Ransom’s hands up your skirt one day. 

The relationship is almost all physical, not that you’re complaining too much since he’s built like a God and knows how to please a woman. But it irritates you that he won’t go out in public with you unless it’s for something he has to go to for Harlon, you know he has a strained relationship, at best, with his parents, but you wish he would tell them. Valentine's day came and went and all you got was his package wrapped in a bow, while you had spent hours and an entire paycheck to buy him the perfect sweater to add to his collection. 

By month six you were spending most nights in his bed, but he still hadn’t asked you to move in with him. He hadn’t shown a clear sign that he actually wanted to be with you. On the rare occasion you both had to go somewhere with Harlon you could find Ransom flirting it up with multiple gorgeous women. On this particular occasion he let it go far enough that the woman kissed him. 

The next day at work you're surprised when you bump into Ransom in the kitchen at lunch time. He looks a little flustered working the stove, a greasy butter stain on his blue sweater, you smile lightly seeing the overconfident man struggling with such a simple task. He gives you a wolfish grin when he notices you in the doorway, plating up his failed attempt at a grilled cheese. One side burned black while the other is nowhere near a golden brown yet. 

“The bed was cold last night,” Ransom slides the plate to you as he continues to speak. “And my sweater was empty.”

He’s holding up your favorite cashmere sweater for you to grab and wear now. It’s not a vocal apology and he’s not screaming his affections for you to the world. But for Ransom it's a big deal. The sandwich is his apology, and the sweater marks his claim on you even if it’s in front of people that already know. And for now, that’s enough.

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny​ @mrs-malfoy-always​

[shadowlightzone]

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 1 𝙍𝙚𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙣

The playoffs had started.

It was obvious that the rookies were training to get into the wings around the world rally.

The young redhead found it funny because it reminded her of when she wanted to compete, and in that same place she met her idol: Ripslinger.

His smile faded when he remembered how such a runner tried to finish him off.

He even used Ishani to kill him, though he wondered why the Indian did it only for a modern propeller.

I mean ... yeah, the propeller was cute, but could it have been done for another reason? Anyway, that happened a year ago, I wouldn't care anymore.

Although now he felt sorry for the self-centered pilot. He fell into the bathrooms and humiliated himself in front of those who were his admirers.

Maybe I can talk to him again on the run.

JFK Airport.

The next wings of the rally around the world began and Dusty had already arrived at the airport. He met his friends: El Chupacabra, Bulldog, Ishani, Carolina and the rest.

Many of his fans thought that he and Ishani were a couple, but the reality is that Ishani already had a boyfriend before meeting Dusty, so they were just friends.

With Dipper the same, she was just a crazy friend and fan, her friends thought that he would return her romantic feelings, but she could not, nor did she want to.

Maybe later he will think about looking for a girlfriend, now he just wants to be single.

When he got to his hangar, he took off the orange and white sweater he was wearing, leaving only his white shirt with blue sleeves.

He sat down for a drink but heard a voice he never forgot.

"Go get a gallon of fuel, my plane has to be well prepared for tomorrow."

"Ripslinger ..." Without hesitation, he approached Ripslinger's hangar and, with nerves that made him sweat, greeted him shyly.

"Are you looking for something ... the fumigator?"

"H-hi Rip," I say sheepishly.

"I don't want to talk to you Cropfucker, so go away," he said coldly without looking at the orange haired boy.

"W-well ... how have you been?"

"It takes me to hell," I mutter annoyed. "I'm fine." Now you can go.

"How have you been in the race?" He smirked.

"Apparently this idiot doesn't understand the meaning of the word shut up and go"

"I was fatal" He looked at the orange haired young man threateningly. "I've lost fans and everything because of your damn fault." He approached the orange-haired man, cornering him against the wall. "So I don't want you to keep talking to me for the rest of the race.

"O-ok ..." the orange haired man nodded nervously and the older one left.

"It seems that these two years did not go well for him while I was getting famous ... And he sure hates me ... I have to help him, at least so he stops hating me" thought the orange haired man.

-

-

-

The race was about to begin. The pilots were getting ready and some were out of their planes.

"And how are things with Carolina?" Dusty asked his Mexican friend.

-Everything's okay. Now that we are married, everything is much better and I feel lucky to have her, ”the chupacabra replied, smiling.

"And when will they make me uncle?"

"Hahahaha" she laughed with her friend "When she decides friend" I pat the orange haired boy on the back.

...

"Hello Ripslinger," Ishani greeted the black-haired man.

- What do you want ? I look at her annoyed.

"I came to talk to you."

-Listens. I'm not interested in talking to you, I'm not even interested in you ...

India simply rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"If I came here to have the nerve to talk to you, it was to tell you not to do anything to Dusty," he threatened.

Not an hour has passed and I'm done ...

"I see you are very interested in the fumigator, huh?" And I'm not going to do anything to him because he knows very well that I don't want him to talk to me - I look at the brunette.

"I'm not interested in Dusty, he's just my friend, but I'm not going to let you hurt him."

"You better go, you already tired me ..."

With that, the Indian woman left and left the black-haired man alone.

"Start your engines!" I yell, signaling the pilots to launch their planes.

"Good luck friend," said El Chupacabra.

"Chu too," Dusty replied.

The green flag had already been raised and the runners took off at full speed.

Ripslinger was a little behind but he managed, he had trained very hard these two years that he had missed the racing world to return as a new champion, or at least to regain some of his glory ...

"I must get there first ..." he told himself.

Without realizing it, he had arrived first ... With Dusty.

The orange haired boy was very focused on the race, and now he realized how changed he was ...

He is his rival anyway, he shouldn't care ...

The orange haired boy noticed and greeted him kindly, Ripslinger blushed and looked back at the wheel and the road.

That was a bit awkward but ... It was cute the way he said "hi" to her.

Anyway, he is his rival and he would win it this year.

Ripslinger was the first to reach Alaska, behind him came Dusty who landed a few minutes later.

By the time everyone got to Alaska, they were warming up after flying through a very cold place.

Since Zed and Ned weren't there, Ripslinger was lost in thought.

Dusty on the other hand was chatting with his friends all happily.

"Hey ... Rip is very lonely ... I think I should go keep him company ..." said Dusty.

"Better not Dusty ... He did you a lot of damage in your first race," Chupacabra said.

"I know ... But I don't like to see him like that, Chu." He was my idol since I was little and I would like to try to reconcile with him.

"Dude ... Okay, but be careful."

"I'll have it," he nodded and left.

"Since I was little?" How old is Dusty exactly?

....

The raven haired pilot was lost in thought, alone and not speaking to anyone.

Zed and Ned were no longer with him, for now he would have to do it all alone.

Anyway, he got used to being alone ...

"Hey, I brought you a hot chocolate, it's very cold and I know this would be good for you," said the orange haired man, smiling sweetly as he offered him the glass of hot chocolate.

The olive-eyed man was surprised by the young man's gesture, but had to hide it.

It was very cold, I did not want to refuse a rich hot chocolate so, embarrassed, I accept it.

"Thank you ..." was the only thing he dared to say.

"No need," he left, still smiling.

Now ... keep trying to talk to him, Dusty thought.

____________________________

Sorry for the delay but I did not have many ideas and time, but I promised that on Saturday I would publish chapter 1 and here you have it uwu

And it took me too late because it's like 1148 words.

Goodbye little hedgehogs!

[fagundescamila]

Power Couple #2 (Severus Snape x Reader)

As you can see, I’m really excited about this xD It’s gonna be a slow burn, but I think it’ll be fun! Hope you guys like it! I feel obligated to remind you again that english is not my native language, so you’ll definitely find some mistakes... Let me know what you think! 

"My office, auror's department, Ministry of Magic." Y/N said right before dropping the floo powder and transporting herself and Severus to said place. 

Arriving at the fireplace of her office, Severus was immediately welcomed by a sound of soft jazz and some shuffling papers. Almost as instantly, there came a young man that he vaguely recognized as some former Hogwarts' student.

"Ms. Y/L/N, welcome back and…" The eyes of the boy went wide as he saw Snape and he couldn't finish his sentence.

"Thanks, Ryan… This is..." Y/N was about to introduce them to each other. 

"Professor Snape?" The boy was in shock. 

"Mr. Bolsen." Severus greeted dryly. 

"Oh, yeah, right." Y/N laughed lightly. "I totally forgot… Well, since there's no need for introductions, we're going to my library, if there's anything you need to inform me, walk with us, Ryan." She said and turned to Severus. "This way, please. I'll get you those essays." 

Snape nodded and followed her through the room towards a door on the other end which she opened to reveal a small library. 

The young man followed them after a brief moment of total confusion and started rambling about everything that happened at the office since Y/N left for the meeting.

"I got those reports you needed, they are at your desk." He said. 

"Right. I'll take a look at them tomorrow." She said without looking at the guy, too busy going through the shelves trying to find the place where she put the essays.

"Also, you received an invitation…" He continued on that frenetic talking.

"What for?" She turned to him for a moment, smirking at his nervousness. "I don't think Severus will bite you, Ryan… Can you talk slower?" 

Snape smirked at her and raised one eyebrow at the boy, making him feel even more intimidated.

"I-i… Sure." He took a deep breath and tried to focus on his job, not the fact that the teacher he used to fear the most was right there at his working place. "Mr. Lockhart sent a letter today, inviting you for a dinner to discuss his latest publishing."

"What?" Y/N stopped looking for the papers and turned her full attention to her intern. 

"He said he didn't get the chance to talk to you on the event yesterday and he wanted to discuss your remarks." At that, he allowed himself a smirk. 

"You gotta be kidding me."

Severus couldn't refrain a smirk at her reaction. She clearly was disgusted by the idea of being invited to dinner by Lockhart. And of course, he couldn't blame her.

"I'm not." Ryan was able to even chuckle at Y/N's exasperated expression and suddenly felt more comfortable seeing that Snape was also smiling, even if it was a really discreet smile. "Well, his letter is at your desk and he seemed… eager for a reply." Now he was just teasing her. 

"Oh, get out of here, Ryan!" Y/N said waving her hand at him and turning to the shelves again. 

"As you wish, boss!" He laughed at her and prepared to leave. "Goodnight!"

"Goodnight, Ryan! Practice those hexes, if you can. See you tomorrow!" She said finding the place where she put the essays and taking them. 

"Will do." And before he left, he mustered the courage to say, in a really low tone: "Goodnight, Professor, it was… Nice to see you."

"Goodnight, Mr. Bolsen." Was Snape's reply. And with that, the boy left. 

"God, he was terrified." Y/N said chuckling. "There you go." She handed him a  folder with all the essays. "Please, don't mind the notes. And feel free to correct any of them, I promise I won't get as frightened as Ryan was." She laughed which made him smirk again.

“I doubt it.” He said sarcastically.

“Oh, I see… Then, you really are the mean professor people say you are…” She teased and shook her head disapproving her own words. “Anyways, I’d really love to hear your thoughts on those papers.” They headed back to her office as she was saying that. 

“All of them?” He asked teasingly, obviously referring to Lockhart’s one. Even though they didn’t really know each other and, except for the other Order meetings, this was the first time they were actually talking, it seemed right to make those little jokes with her. It didn’t feel weird at all. Although, right after he said it, he feared she would find it odd. 

“No!” Y/N stated laughing and pointing a finger at Severus. He smirked again, glad that she didn’t find it odd at all, apparently. “You don’t get to joke about this too, ok? It’s bad enough that I have to endure my intern’s teasing. Let’s not make this situation even worse than it already is.”

“I wasn’t implying anything.” Snape shrugged feigning innocence. 

“Right…” She shook her head again as she grabbed the letter on her desk. “Unbelievable.” Y/N chuckled reading it. “Do you mind waiting a moment? I’ll reply this letter and then we can floo back to Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore is expecting you there, right?”

“He has some matters to discuss with me, yes.” Severus said. 

“It won’t take long.” She reassured and grabbed a quill and parchment. For Snape’s surprise, she recited out loud her reply as she wrote it: “Mr. Lockhart, thank you for your… Kind invitation?” She grimaced and shook her head. “For your invitation.” She wrote. Severus chuckled lightly. “Unfortunately, I must inform you that I won’t be available for the discussion you proposed. Feel free to ask your editor for my remarks and notes, I believe it should be enough. Best regards, Y/N Y/L/N.” She signed and looked up at Severus. “What do you say?” 

“Pretty decent.” Was all he could muster. Was she really asking his opinion on her reply for a dinner invitation? 

“Yeah, I know. But what I’m asking you is… If you received this as an answer, would you try to invite me for dinner ever again?” 

“No.” He said still confused. “I’d probably never write you again.”

“Perfect!” She signed the letter, rolled it and attached it to an owl that was by the window, sending it. “That’s what I was hoping to achieve with the reply. Let’s hope he gets it.” Y/N gave Severus a wink and a light laugh. 

At that, Snape chuckled again and they used the floo network to get back to Grimmauld Place.