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rikasfundingassociates · 2 years ago

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[New Recording] The Gamer

This interview originally took place on May 7th, 2023.

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Once looking at the screen - you've begun to take notice to a messy apartment, yet a little neat at the same time. It gives off the aura of someplace at least kept up, and lived in at the same time. Especially considering the person sitting infront of it, peering towards the screen with an intent curiosity, shuffling around for another fleeting moment to fix up anything last minute. ..he seems to be the one living in it. Finally, though - he stops and pays his full attention in your direction with a playful grin on his face. He seems to move around when he sits, whether it's a chosen of shifting how he's sat, or just glancing around, before finally waving to greet you.

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[GAMER]: "I think it's good to go now- Hii! This is Cayden Emberbloom! What's up?"

HI CAYDEN!!

CAYDEN: "HI!!!!"

HI CAYDEN!! just a lil question,,,,, can you tell me whos the guitarist from the popular band Queen? :)

"Oh my God! Wait I love Queen, it's, like, uhhhh.." He leans back in his seat, kicking his feet a little bit. "..Brian May!"

Where’d u get the shirt

"Uhhh, ..Hm. I think I thrifted it from somewhere ,, dunno if I remember, oops—"

do you like the sky?

"I mean, it's like always around us - or, ..well, like, above us — how could I not?"

Cayden do you slay

"Everyday." ok pal.

cayden how many european countries can you name?

"Ummmmm.." .. He shrugs, and seems to count on his fingers, ..as if that's any help. But sadly, he just .. shrugs again. "I dunno. Like maybe two??"

Cayden thoughts on detectives/investigators

"Like, in the movies? Sherlock Holmes and stuff? That's cool. ..I don't actually think I've watched Sherlock Holmes."

What is your ideal pet, basic or exotic or whatever? Any animal. Maybe even all the animal!!

"..I want a dog. Like, any kind. Maybe those really tiny fluffy ones. ..I forgot their names." :]!

Cayden what is your home address and mother's maiden name

"oh em gee." He actually said that . ".. jokes on you, I have an apartment -" There's still an address to that. he's trying. it's the thought that counts.

Cayden how do you feel about red heads

"Like- red red hair cause like, some people call people with ginger hair red heads but- Red hair's a cool color." ' '..

Do you have any siblings?

"Two sisters!"

would you rather save 20 people from a volcano or get a kiss from a man

... "Uhhhhh." he's thinking on it. "It'd be funny if I chose the second option - but, I'll save the twenty people cause that's cool."

Cayden what's your opinion on men assigning u flowers I've met two so far that do this and it doesn't seem to be stopping

".. I've like, never met someone who does that, but I think it's cool if someone wants to! I don't like, actually know a lot of flowers.. unless they're like the really basic ones."

Cayden, do you think you're normal

"I'd hope so," ^^? "I think I am!"

CAYDEN! what do you think made a person good

"Ooh, um, this sounds like a deep question. I guess if they aren't like .. uh, ..evil they're good? Or, like, people who are kind and stuff. I don't think I'm being specific enough here, ..or actually getting a point across."

"I think people that are like good are people who don't go out of their way to hurt others and, stuff, - ..maybe that's basic, though!"

Cayden are you pro hater behavior

"Umm, maybe! Depends."

cayden whats your favourite urban dictionary definition

"I literally cannot remember a time where I willingly looked for a definition on that website."

Hey Cyaden.... Cayden...... Ur mom

"Woah."

Favourite song :)? One that youd say “ oh yeah THIS is my THEME SONG for SURE !!”

"Dunno if I've got like a theme song, but I like any songs really too, ..'specially any old rock music. I think that stuff's cool. I could never choose a favorite.." ;;

hey cayden whats your opinion about the emoji below

"I like it. It's funny ....."

CAYDEN, THE UFO. THERES A UFO BEHIND YOU CAYDEN. WATCH OUT!!! LOOK!!! BEHIND YOU!!!!

"wait wouldn't i hear it break in my apartment I thought those things were big???" Still, hes turning around. ufo is not in sight . He's been bamboozled..

Hey Cayden if Katy is Perry than who parodies the platypus

"..its me.. I parody the platypus... I make the hit platypus paradoy music...."

IT'S INVISIBLE CAYDEN THE ALIENS HAVE GROWN SNEAKY YOU JUST CAN'T SEE IT PLEASE BE SAFE KING

"THANK YOU .. I WILL..."

sending you prayers cayden. the aliens have mastered the art of invisibility. good luck.

"The prayers are in my thoughts... thank you so much..."

Cayden if you could have a superpower what would it be :3

"Hmm .. Maybe like, flying or something - that'd be cool to do. Or, like, ..teleporting? I'd wanna know what that's like. Sounds cool."

hey cayden who would be your doofenshmirtz

"Hm.. I dunno if anyone really reminds me of that guy, ..maybe I'll just work with the dude myself. Real deal and stuff."

cayden,,,, i love you but. he's fictional.

"....nuh-uh......"

Cayden, any shows/series/movies you like?

"Ah, off the top of my head? I like Pokémon. I always thought that was cool."

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CAYDEN: [After a moment, he leans forward, to say goodbye.]

"I've had a lot of fun talking with you guys! You're all really cool, but, I should probably get going..."

[With that, Cayden flashes one more smile at the screen with a wave - before it shuts off!]

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Recording and audio provided by [UNKNOWN]: do i have your attention now do i have your attention now do i have your attention now do i have your attention now do i have your attention now do i have your attention now do i have your attention now do i have your attention now do i have your attention now do i have your attention now do i have your attention now do i have your attention now

#kgrp #teaser

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weirdmarioenemies · 2 years ago

Photo

Name: Asteroids

Debut: Asteroids

Yeah! Asteroids! Asteroids from Asteroids! Can you believe the game was so popular that they launched a bunch of chunks of rock and metal into space to make them real? Fiction indeed affects reality! Asteroids was certainly an extremely popular and influential game. But what about the titular Asteroids themselves? Why doesn’t anyone talk about those Asteroids anymore? Let’s find out!

The whole deal with the Asteroids is that when shot, they break into more, smaller Asteroids. What can this mean for their physiology? Is this a marvel of rapid biological regeneration, something that can be studied to allow us to cheat death? It is not! They are rocks!

There are also even smaller Asteroids! They appear the exact same way. They’re really just asteroids. I mean it. Even I think it might be futile to try and find any Lore about them... but it won’t stop me from trying! Let’s look at the manual!

...Okay, I looked. There is really nothing. There are just asteroids, and the player shoots them. But check this out! Official art of An Asteroid, from one of the flyer! I like it. It’s a little bit cute, with its shape. It looks like the top of a muffin. A crunchy burnt charcoal muffin.

Really, Asteroids is just funny to me. It is named after the fact that there are Asteroids in it! You shoot the Asteroids! That’s all! Sometimes there is a UFO but this post is not about that. Pretend I never said there was a UFO. I wonder if any concerned parents considered this game to be violent. There is shooting and explosions, but it’s all Some Rocks. It’s too bad there was never a cartoon adaptation to anthropomorphize the asteroids... but I think it’s never too late for that! Asteroids and the Cosmic Adventures would surely get people talking about Asteroids again, which I don’t think they have been doing!

Asteroids as a game isn’t really much of a series or franchise, but it does have quite a legacy in games, inspiring a whole genre of monsters! It doesn’t really matter what kind of entity these enemies are, as long as they split into a bunch of tiny things when fought. I would say little Motley Bossblob counts as one of these, since it splits into lots of little blobs! And here, we see a unique aspect of some Asteroidslike enemies, where they can reform back into their bigger state, requiring the player to defeat as many little ones as they can when they have the chance! Maybe they will add this feature, in Asteroids 2. And then they will add it to real asteroids.

The moral of the story is, asteroids are nothing to be afraid of. In fact, they’re more scared of you than you are of them, with your species making a fun time out of destroying them! The next time you encounter an asteroid, just leave it be, and it will do the same to you. Don’t hurt it, but also don’t feed it! It could lead to the asteroid putting itself in danger, going right up to spaceships hoping the astronauts inside will give it some Cheez-Its. Respect them from afar!

#asteroids #asteroids the game #asteroids enemies #not mario #funky friday #mod chikako

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

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Have you seen the post going around about the zoom class with one guy and his full streamer setup vs the guy whose just in the middle of the woods? I know you have a prompt list rn but I’m just saying there’s a sternclay fic in there somewhere...

It is! Here you go!

Life is better with order. Or, at the very least, with some attempt at patterns, organization, or consistency.

Which is why Stern has carefully arranged his desk, his chair, and his equipment in the background. Streaming as a hobby and a side hustle means he has some (okay, a lot) of practice making his digital self look just right. He needs to make a good impression on the first day of the semester.

Unlike some people.

“Holy shit man, are you in the woods?” Duck, the guy in a “Monongahela National Forest” shirt, grins as he asks this of another student whose screen consists of a forest clearing, a log, and the name “Barclay.”

“Yeah. Hang on, lemme finish getting the phone balanced.”

“Dude, that’s like, way better than my background” this comes from Jake, in front of a poorly rendered half-pipe.

“Can’t really take credit for it, just where I ended up.” Barclay sits down, and Stern gets his first look at a man so tall he barely fits in the frame, with a short, coppery beard and an honest-to-god man-bun.

Damn west coast schools.

“How is your battery going to last long enough for class?” Stern leans back in his chair, certain Barclay will have “battery trouble” halfway through as an excuse to cut out early.

Barclay smiles, lifting up a small green and black rectangle, “solar battery. Not everyone needs fancy gadgets for school.” He aims a pointed stare at Sterns set-up.

“It’s important to have the right equipment.”

“Whatever you say, man.” He lifts a cup of iced coffee into the frame, sipping it through a straw. It’s the picture of relaxation, as if nothing is wrong in the world. As if this is all totally normal.

Stern wants to reach through the screen and slap some sense into him. Preferably while he’s shirtless.

He chalks that thought up to not having gotten laid since last December and pulls up his note taking software as Professor Chicane enters the room.

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Private Chat 9/20/20

Duck (he/him): I timed it, we’re already at ten minutes of arguing.

Indrid (he/him): I know Ned enjoys their demonstrating the different modes of rhetoric, but this is a bit extreme.

Duck: To be fair, Joe does seem kinda uptight.

Indrid: Yes, but Barclay should know by now that zeroing in on him during our practice debates only results in this.

Duck: Yeah. Oh shit, are they for real wrapping up you think?

Indrid: We can only hope. Skype me tonight?

Duck: Of course, sugar.

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What is Joseph’s problem? He’s got a set-up that would make a pro-vlogger jealous, what looks to be a well-lit apartment with some houseplants and the kind of coffee-cups that are weirdly lacking in personality. His clothes are immaculate, his hair slicked back as if he;s in a business meeting rather than an online class in the midst of a chaotic world. So why is he acting like everything is terrible? And why is he always arguing with Barclay, when there are plenty of other people in the class to disagree with?

“Now” Mr. Chicane’s voice booms through the tiny speaker on his phone, “if you all had a chance to read over the instructions, we will begin the first mock debate. Do we have any volunteers?”

He and Joe raise their hands at the same time. Mr. Chicane raises an eyebrow.

“While I appreciate your eagerness, gentlemen, I would like two other volunteers this time.”

That’s fine by him. It’s not like he likes listening to Joseph get all wound up and passionate, making everyone on the call sit up and take notice of him. It’s not as if he enjoys being the center of his focus.

Nope, not at all.

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Private chat 10/11/20

Jake (he/him): Dudes, did you see who got paired up on the final project?

Aubrey (she/her): Chicane must be getting them back for all the times they’ve hijacked discussions.

Duck (he/him): Man, for their sake I hope it works out.

Indrid (he/him): This is going to be a disaster.

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“Are you out of your mind!” Stern is talking before Barclay’s video is fully on.

“Nope. And you don’t have to yell, my speaker works just fine.”

“You’re outside, for all I know there’s a ton of ambient noise.”

Barclay, phone obviously in his hand as he walks through the trees, groans.

“And don’t try to derail this; how can you possibly suggest I come out there so we can do the project in person? We’re supposed to be limiting travel and gatherings.”

“Look, Joseph, we both agree that trying to generate our own cryptid hoax is the best way to demonstrate all the techniques Ned wants us too, right?”

“Yes” he hides his answer behind the rim of his coffee mug.

“We’ll do a way better job if we work in the same space. And if it makes you feel any better, I haven’t had any human contact in three weeks; all quarantined up, unlike whatever you’ve been doing in the city.”

He sets the mug down with a thunk, “I haven’t been out in a month. And before that was only for one grocery run and a hospital visit.”

“Uhhh-”

“I cut my hand cooking. So. Yeah.”

Literal crickets chirp, courtesy of Barclay’s end of the line, as the silence stretches on.

“If it helps, it’s real easy to stay isolated here, and I’ve still got utilities and everything.”

“And you’re not subsisting only on MREs or granola or something?”

A deep chuckle, the kind that makes his skin prickle, “Nope. That much I can promise.”

Stern glances around the studio apartment, clean and empty.

“What’s your address?”

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Look, all Stern is going to say is that he’s seen and read plenty of stories that start with a cabin in the woods and none of them end well. Which is why he’s still sitting in his car, parked beside a beat-up Subaru, rather than knocking on the door.

Breathe in, five counts. Out for four. Repeat four times.

Waiting for him on the door is a note.

Joseph,

Key under mat, make yourself at home.

Barclay.

He brings in his bags (a matching set of three, a gift from his aunt last year), placing them in the tiny guest room. It’s not much more than a bed, a dresser, and a tiny table. But there’s a heating unit below the window looking out into the woods, which is pretty pleasant. He’ll be keeping the blinds closed at night, though; he hates the thought of something being able to look in.

Stern’s busy evaluating the laundry closet when the front door opens.

“Hey, glad you found the place okay.”

Barclay stands in the doorway, a basket full of fruit in one hand. He’s remarkably kempt for a man living in the woods and that, combined with the deep voice being even richer in person and the fact Stern has to actually look up to meet his eyes, has him stumbling for words.

“Your directions were very thorough. Thank you. Um. I put my things in there, should I, um-”

“I can give you the grand tour.” The taller man sets the basket on the dining table, notices Sterns puzzled expression “there’s a piece of property about a mile thataway that has orchards they don’t really use. They let me come and pick whenever i want, less for them to clean up.”

Barclay keeps up a steady monologue as he shows him the cabin. The lower level is the living room and dining area, a kitchen which leads onto the back deck, Sterns room, and a bathroom. As the cabin is A-frame, the upstairs is Barclay’s room, all dark wood and pine colored plaid. It’s as Barclay is telling him about the woodpecker that sometimes nests in the eaves that he realizes why he’s talking so much.

He’s nervous.

Neither of their nerves improve when he gets to his last point of order.

“Uh, so, the bathroom downstairs is only a half-bath.”

“So...if I want to shower, which I do, I have to come up here.”

“Yeah.” Barclay scratches the back of his neck, “sorry. I don’t, like, sleep naked or anything so we should be fine.”

“Disappointing.” Stern sighs, only to sail past sarcastic and land face first in sincere.

Barclay blushes, then shrugs, “Trust me, after the first night, you’ll see why.”

Stern does. He’s warm as long as he’s in bed, but the moment he ventures into the bathroom in the middle of the night he’s cocooned in cold.

The morning brings cinnamon and coffee on the draft coming under the door. He plods into the kitchen in search of caffeine, finds Barclay in an pron, the counter covered in trays of dough.

“Morning!”

“Morning. Coffee-”

“Right there, sugar and stuff’s in the cabinet above it, cream and such is in the fridge.”

Blessedly, there’s heavy cream to be found, and soon he’s sipping from an enamel mug emblazoned with a UFO made of veggies.

“Is this all for your job?” Barclay mentioned he was a cook during an icebreaker.

“Yep. Way it works is I bust my ass baking once or twice a day, and Thacker, who works with Mama at the Lodge in town, comes and takes them over there. Normally I’d just be there but, well, y’know.”

“Everything is on fire? Figuratively, I mean.”

“Sometimes literally too, but yeah.”

As he’s turning to grab his clothes and head showerward, Barclay adds, “You a scone man, coffecake man, or a cinnamon roll man?”

“Coffeecake?” It comes out hesitant.

“There’s no right answer, man.” Barclay sounds amused, “what do you want?”

“Cake, definitely.”

“Cool. I’ll save you a slice.”

Once he’s showered and on the wi-fi, his day runs like normal; one lecture, reading, a research paper, his initial half of their project, and working either his copy-editing or transcription job in between, and planning his next stream. Barclay comes and goes, stops now and then to see if he needs anything, leaves a sandwich in front of him around dinner time. Then it’s time to crawl under the covers and dream of a less-stressful world.

The next day, just before one, Barclay taps him on the shoulder.

“Ready for class?”

“Yes…” He gestures to his laptop and notebook.

“C’mon, join me out here, it’s way nicer, and we can share the phone.”

“Barclay, it’s a nonsensical way to attend class, just stay in here with me! Even this set-up has to be better than the woods.”

“This set up. You mean my house?” All the friendliness leaves hi voice.

“Yes. Look, I agreed to come out because you’re right, if we want to ace this thing that’s worth sixty percent of our grade, this is the place to do it; I don’t have to go along with the whole self-sufficient woodsman aesthetic while I’m here. “

“Yeah, I’d say you’re pretty far from self-sufficient. See you in class.”

Stern stews through the entire session, but where he’d usually find something Barclay says to latch onto, he instead gnaws on himself. Why didn’t he just go with him? Why snap at someone who’s been nothing but nice since he got here?

Whatever the answer, how can he fix it?

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Barclay tromps back through the twilight, done with his second class of the day. If Joseph is in the main house, he plans to ignore him until tomorrow morning. That all goes out the window with the clank of dishes from the kitchen.

Peering in reveals the other man bent over, pulling a casserole from the oven. He waits to announce his presence until Joseph is out of the danger zone, enjoying the view as he does.

“Smells good.”

Blue eyes flick over to him as Joseph opens drawers, “it’s mostly cheese and chips, so I’m not surprised.”

“Servers are in that one.”

“Thank you. Nacho pie?” He scoops some into a bowl, holding it out.

“Sure. Uh, look, Joseph I-”

Joseph holds up the server, “Wait. Before you apologize I, um, I wanted to say I’m sorry for my comments. And for being so...me-ish.” He sighs, staring at the utensil in his grip, “I’ve always been a little bit tense, tried to be polite and effective and friendly in spite of it. The last six months made that harder to do. I don’t love it when I can’t be organized, when normal systems go out of place. But that’s no excuse for being rude to you, even before you invited me here. You’re just so...you’re always so calm and relaxed, like nothing was wrong and I just honed in on that way more than made sense. I’m sorry.”

“If it makes you feel better, I kinda did the same thing. You’re always so put together, it looked like you had this organized life in the midst of this whole shitstorm. I feel lik everything is slipping away, like my world is just this cabin. I mean, I assumed you were seeing friends in the city, while I haven’t seen Mama in person since April. So” he sets the bowl down, rests his hand on Joseph’s shoulder, “I’m sorry too.”

Joseph laughs, softly, “turns out we both had failures of imagination, huh?”

“Yeah” he runs a hand over Joseph's back, “now come on, this dinner’s not gonna eat itself.”

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“You sure you don’t wanna wear the bigfoot costume?”

“Positive. Besides, it suits you.” Joseph finishes styling the fur on the head of the costume to look more realistic, “I just hope we get this done before that storm comes in; as mush as the rain would add to the mood of the scene, that’ll be hell to dry and you’ll be miserable. So, go lurk over there while I finish up getting the camera settings where they need to be.”

“Yes sir” Barclay pops the head on, leaves crunching as moves to his appointed tree. He smiles as he watches Joseph fiddle with the camera; things have been so much better between them these last two weeks. They trade off cooking dinner, study side by side, and watch movies or play games in the warmth of the heater. They have a similar sense of humor and taste in books, and are tidy to boot. Joseph’s even come with him to listen to lectures in the woods, the pair sharing a thermos of coffee under the astonished gaze of their classmates. There’s just one problem.

Barclay’s buried crush is now blooming in every direction. Animated, argumentative Joseph was attractive. Joseph, in all his moods and mannerisms, is devastatingly enchanting. He’s come close to telling him this, but the other man is his guest and also only here for another two and a half weeks, so a confession is setting himself up for heartbreak at worst and awkwardness at best.

He almost blew it last night when they were washing dishes (Joseph scrubs, Barclay dries and puts away).

“Last one.”

“Thanks, blue eyes.”

“What was that?”

“Uh, blue eyes? Like a, uh, a nickname?”

Joseph laughs, “Sounds like something from a Raymond Chandler book. I like it.”

On the plus side, if Joseph thinks it’s just a nickname and not a pet name, maybe Barclay can keep using it.

“Are you ready?’

He sticks up a hairy thumb and calls, “you know it, blue eyes.”

That same laugh as Joseph takes up his position. Maybe it’s the weird film over the costume’s eyes, but Barclay swears he sees a blush.

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

Stern trawls through the search results. Their video is getting some traction, with two cryptid hunter sites claiming it’s credible footage. He’s making note of how the information spread, which threads lead to belief and which to doubt, when Barclay calls from upstairs.

“Joseph? Little help?”

The other man is in the bathroom, and when Stern knocks he says, “Think the pilot light on the water heater went out again, all I’m getting is cold water. Can you go relight it?”

“Sure.” He gets to the stairs then, stops, “where’s the key to that closet?”

“Huh? Oh, shit, right, hang on” Barclay says at the same time as Stern’s “don’t worry, I can find it.”

Which is why the instant he turns back into the bedroom is the same instant Barclay steps out of the bathroom, blue towel around his waist.

Any blood that doesn’t head south goes instantly to Stern’s cheeks.

“You okay there, blue-eyes?”

“It’s completely unfair how good you look without a shirt.”

He clamps a hand over his mouth.

“Idn’t ean to ay at out oud” The mumbled explanation makes Barclay smirk.

“You like this, should see what’s under the towel.”

The unusually bold statement from Barclay kindles his own confidence.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, big guy.”

“Who says I won’t.” Barclay sits down on the edge of the bed, nonchalant and leaning back on his hands, “got plenty of time to make good on them.”

“We literally don’t. I go back in a week and two days.”

Barclay toys with the lint on the towel, “you could stay. Through break, through next semester, for however long you wanted.”

“Do you mean that?”

A shy nod, “I like having you around, Joseph. Even beyond the huge fucking crush I have on you I...everything is a little better when you’re around.”

“I, um, I guess it could work. We know next semester is online too, and so is work, so…” there must be variables missing, something he’s not seeing, some reason this is too good to be true.

“You want some space away from shirtless me to think about it?”

“That’d be great.”

Barclay stands, hesitates, then plants a quick kiss on his forehead, “take all the time you need, blue eyes.”

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

Private Chat log 1/11/2021

Barclay (he/him): Did you see the look on Duck’s face when we turned up in frame together.

Joseph (he/him): Yes. Pretty sure Aubrey yelled something about him needing to pay up. I wonder what the bet was.

Barclay (he/him): Whatever it was, pretty sure I came out the biggest winner.

Stern snorts, trying not to blush on camera, and leans over to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek.

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #taz amnesty #college AU

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kpopfanfictrash · 5 years ago

Text

Taming of the Flu

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Contributor: @underthejoon for this LOVELY banner TT & for coming up with the title LOL ur the best

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Rating: PG

Genre: Sick Reader!AU, New Boyfriend!AU, Fluff

Synopsis: When you are sick, the last thing you want to do is call your boyfriend for help. But somehow, he finds out anyways. (pls feel better @bendthekneetobangtan I’m sorry I got u sick LOL)

Word Count: 2,426

“Call him.”

“No,” you mumble, curling further into the sheets.

“Call. Him.”

“No,” you repeat – determined, as only a sick person can be. The room around you spins; the light from your window is much too bright on one side.

Emily tsks under her breath, making a disappointed sound. “He’s your boyfriend, Y/N. This is what boyfriends are for – getting things off the top shelf and taking care of you when you are sick.”

“I thought boyfriends were for extra income in case social security is gone when we’re older.”

“Y/N, please be serious.” A door slams on Emily’s end of the phone. “Social security is definitely going to be gone when we’re older.”

You laugh, breaking into a cough when a dizzying bout of fatigue hits.

“Y/N!”

“What?” you croak.

“Call him. Or I’ll do it myself.”

Emily hangs up, leaving you staring at the phone in your hand. You can only hold that position for so long before another wave of coughing hits. The coughing is gross – the nasty, phlegmy kind which practically chokes every breath. On top of all that, your sinuses are a mess, your body aches, and you are ninety percent sure you have a fever.

Wearily, you fall back on your pillows. Emily is right, you really should call someone because you have zero medication in the apartment and zero ability to get it yourself. Each time you try to stand, you are gripped by fatigue so severe you sit right back down again. But you need to get up. You need to use the bathroom, if nothing else and – gripping your bed, then your wardrobe – you slowly make your way, inch by inch, to the door.

When you finally reach the toilet, you collapse on its lid. “Yes!” you cheer weakly, before realizing you still need to undo your pants. “Oh… shit.”

While you ponder how best to do this, your phone rings on the counter. You stare at this for a moment. It seems to zoom in and out, varying distances away and you will it to stay still while you stand from the toilet.

Gripping the counter, you answer the phone. “Hello?”

“Y/N?”

Exhaling lowly, you glance at yourself in the mirror. A greasy, unattractive mess stares back at you. Jungkook has never seen you like this before. Jungkook is not allowed to see you like this – not yet, at least. You two have only been dating for three months. It is too soon for him to see you at your most vulnerable. Hell, you two still brush your teeth in the morning and crawl back into bed, that is how ‘new relationship-y’ you are.

Emily is wrong. He absolutely cannot know you are sick.

Plastering a too-bright smile on your face, you force yourself to stand straight. “Oh, hey!” You wince – your tone is way off. “Jungkook!”

He pauses, as though able to hear your disease through the phone. “Hey… Y/N. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Covering your mouth, you stifle a cough. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You just… I don’t know. Didn’t answer my text. You aren’t as loud as you normally are. Ha.” Jungkook pauses, sounding a bit sheepish. “I sound crazy, huh? Of course, you’re okay.”

You crack a half-smile. “You’re not crazy, babe. What was your last text about?”

“My niece’s dance recital! It’s this Saturday and I know it’s corny, but I always go, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with?”

The bathroom begins to take on a strange tilt. “I – well, you see…”

“Listen – no pressure, I swear! But my mom hasn’t stopped talking about you since we all had dinner, and I said I would ask. Are… you sure everything’s okay, Y/N?”

“Okay.” Re-gripping the counter, your vision fades at the edges. “Jungkook, I – you…”

The bathroom tilts at a dangerous angle, Jungkook’s voice disappearing as your stomach inverts. Knees trembling, you plop down on the floor. The phone falls, hitting tile as you shove your head between your knees and will the nausea away. Grabbing hold of the toilet, you pull yourself up; you do not think you will hurl, but you never know.

Jungkook’s voice is loud from the discarded phone at your side.

“Y/N? Y/N!”

You breathe in and out, eyes closed while the cold porcelain returns you to a semblance of normal. It takes several moments before your vision is clear but, once it is, you reach for the phone.

Weakly, you lift it to your ear. “Jungkook?” you mumble into the receiver.

“Oh, thank fucking god.” Jungkook exhales. “Are you okay? You can’t just do that to me! What happened?”

“I – no,” you finally sigh. “I’m not okay.”

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I guess I’m sick.”

He lets out a breathy laugh. From his end, you hear a door slam. “What kind of sick, baby?”

That is it. The last of your willpower crumbles and you plop to the ground. He is not allowed to call you baby when you feel this crappy.

“I don’t know,” you groan, leaning against the cabinet. “Throat hurts. Sinuses hurt. Fever. Nausea.”

“So – the flu, huh?”

“I guess.”

“Okay, hang tight. I’ll be right there.”

The panic which follows is enough for your eyes to pop open. “Wait, Jungkook, no –!”

He has already hung up. You stare at your dead phone for a moment before scrambling up to your feet. Well, scramble is a loose term. You try several times before standing in the most undignified of fashions. Hands first on the floor, then your feet as you slowly roll yourself up.

By the time you are upright, nearly five minutes have passed. Heading into the living room, you glance around and are appropriately horrified. Your work clothes are still on the floor, flung every which way and left wherever they fell. There are dishes in the sink, coffee mugs on the table and a glass of orange juice on top of the fridge.

It looks like that one scene in every post-apocalypse movie ever made, where the Director shows what happened after humanity disappeared. Jungkook cannot see your place like this. Feebly, you make your way to the fridge and dump the orange juice down the sink. As soon as you do, a knock sounds at your door.

Damn, that fucker is fast.

“It’s me!”

Your head whips to the side. “No, it’s not!”

“Baby?” Jungkook rattles the handle. “Baby, you have to let me in.”

“Why?” Head spinning, you massage your temples. “It’s a disaster in here, Jungkook! You can’t come in!”

His muffled laughter reaches your ears. “You have to let me. I have ice cream and it’s melting.”

Despite yourself, you somewhat perk up. Ice cream is one of the few foods which sound appetizing right now. Slowly shuffling towards the front door, you tug on its handle until it finally opens.

Jungkook stands there, looking the epitome of boyfriend in a grey crewneck sweatshirt. He grins, shaking long dark hair from his eyes. “Hey.”

Eyes narrowed, you glance at the bags in his hands. “I don’t see ice cream.”

When you try and shut the door, Jungkook’s foot stops you. “Nuh-uh,” he teases, swinging the bags as he enters. “Not so fast! I come with better things than ice cream.”

“Better than ice cream?”

Haphazardly, you try and scoop hair from your neck. Everything about you is sweaty and gross – you hope Jungkook does not notice. Maybe he will be too distracted by the disaster zone you call an apartment.

He walks past, humming as he places bags on your counter. “Much better than ice cream. I got this lemon honey green tea, plus Sudafed and DayQuil, NyQuil and cough drops and… hey – Y/N!” Jungkook looks up, alarmed when you sway on the spot.

Darting forward, he grabs both your elbows to stop you from falling. His strong grip on your waist, he gently leads you towards the bedroom.

“I can show you the rest later,” he murmurs, pushing open the door. “Right now, let’s get you into bed. Okay?”

“Okay,” you mumble, too tired to fight back.

Jungkook pulls back your covers, making space before he looks at you critically. “When was the last time you changed?”

Shrugging, you place one knee on the mattress. “Dunno.”

He nods, turning around and opening your dresser. Jungkook rummages around for a moment before turning back.

“Here, put this on.”

You squint at the garment he holds. “That’s your t-shirt, Jeon.”

“I know.” His grin broadens. “Put it on.”

“I’m not changing with you right there.”

He stares as though you are the first government-confirmed UFO sighting in history. “I’ve seen you naked before, Y/N. Many times. In fact, there was one weekend where we were naked for an entire forty-eight hours, and –”

“Not like this,” you groan, grabbing the t-shirt. Turning away, you strip off your sweatshirt and slide on his t-shirt. It smells like him and, inhaling softly, you feel a tiny bit better. “Not when I’m gross and sick.”

When you turn back around, Jungkook holds out a tissue. “Blow.”

“Oh my god.” Grabbing this from his hand, you collapse on your bed. “You’re so,” you cough, “annoying,” another cough, “did you know that?”

“Yep.” Jungkook lowers both palms to the mattress. “Now, you’re burning up. Can I take off these sweats, baby?”

You feebly nod, giving in. “Okay.”

He gently works the material down your thighs, crumpling them in a ball with your sweatshirt. Entering your closet, Jungkook deposits them in your hamper before he returns to your bedside.

When he sees you trying to roll out of bed, his eyes widen. “Oh, no,” Jungkook chuckles, gently pushing you down. “Whatever you need, I can get. Tell me.”

“I... need to go to the bathroom, Jungkook.”

“Oh. Yeah, alright. Let me help.”

He does. The entire way there, Jungkook walks beside you in case you get dizzy. He lets you do your thing but once finished, is immediately there to help you into bed. After forcing you to drink water, take Motrin and another decongestant, Jungkook gently tucks you in. His hand smooths hair back from your forehead, feeling your temperature.

“You’re burning up,” he murmurs. “You sure you don’t want to go to the doctor?”

Slowly, you shake your head on the pillow. “I always run high fevers,” you mumble. “Promise. Have since I was little. If I’m still this sick tomorrow… maybe.”

He nods, serious. “Okay.”

Your hand closes under the pillow as you slowly shut your eyes. You hear, rather than see when he closes your blinds. The room is instantly dimmed and you start to drift off. Jungkook’s footsteps disappear and you want to ask where he is going but the bed is so comfortable. Your body feels so heavy and before long, you hear nothing at all.

When you come to, it is night.

The visual is somewhat disorienting. The last thing you remember is Jungkook, who – shit. Jungkook. Abruptly, you sit up and wince. Patiently, you wait until the room has stopped spinning. Moonlight stripes the sheets of your bed, illuminating your room but in the hall, you see the warm glow of TV. Canned, audience laughter meets your ears and you realize Jungkook must be there.

Slowly, you crawl out of bed and wrap your comforter around you. It is chilly – or maybe that is only the fever medication wearing off. Shivering, you shuffle out of your bedroom. In confusion, you stop and stare at your apartment.

It is spotless. Jungkook must have cleaned while you slept. The dishes in your sink are all washed and put away – the clothing on the ground is gone and your laundry basket rests beside your washer. The machine hums away, cleaning your clothes and slowly, you turn towards the TV.

Jungkook is seated spread-legged on the couch, a chocolate milk in one hand. He stares at the screen, mouthing along with the lines – some old Seinfeld episode – and when he notices your presence, he starts.

“Y/N!” he blurts, jumping up from the sofa. “You’re up!”

Carefully setting his chocolate milk aside, Jungkook’s hair flops jogging towards you. Lips parted, you stare at him. The hand holding your comforter clutches it tighter under your chin.

“You… you cleaned,” you say blankly.

Jungkook glances around. “Probably not very well. I just, well, you were asleep. And I thought I would –”

Cutting him off, you step forward and throw both arms around his waist.

Jungkook hesitates only a moment before wrapping himself around you. The comforter still blankets your body, forming an effective flu barrier. You feel a bit like a burrito, enveloped by your much larger boyfriend – tilting your head back, you peer from the cloth.

“Thanks,” you say softly.

“What for?” Jungkook’s arms tighten.

It sucks to feel so weak and vulnerable, but you suppose that cannot be helped. Every inch of your body hurts, including your brain – but not as much as it did. Thanks to him.

“You came,” you say simply.

His smile broadens. “You thought that I wouldn’t?”

“I didn’t know we were there yet.”

Jungkook’s dark gaze softens. “Yeah. I guess we are.”

Inhaling, you nod as your eyes flutter shut. “Okay.”

He chuckles, adjusting his arms to lead you from the room. Jungkook pushes things aside on your bed, arranging a Kleenex box to well within reach. He fluffs the comforter, squishing it around your body and arranging the corners. You realize sometime while you slept, Jungkook must have dragged in your trash can to place by your side of the bed.

“You’re not repulsed by me now?” you mumble, turning into the pillow.

Jungkook grins. His hand drops to your forehead, smoothing back hair. Bending lower, he brushes his lips to your damp, clammy skin.

“Never,” he whispers, pulling away.

He walks out of the room, gently closing the door and in your delirious, half-lucid state you realize maybe, just maybe you have fallen in love with your boyfriend.

#bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #jungkook fluff #bts fanfic #bts fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook writing #bts writing

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starbuck09256 · 4 years ago

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Snowy Lane of memories

MSR

Post revivial although super AU

Emily is alive and so is Maggie. Mulder and Scully have three other children as well. When Mulder and Scully are called away on a conference and leave their tribe behind how do they cope?

Tagging @today-in-fic

Day one Fictober

It’s been one week without their parents. While they originally thought it would be fun the Mulder kids really miss their parents.

Emily the oldest at 9 sits with her three younger siblings on the steps of the farm house. They are bundled up as snow swirls around the porch steps. It’s late february as the chill has moved in. Their grandmother is inside watching from the window as she stirs the crockpot of homemade soup. It’s been a long 7 days, and while she originally was thrilled to have such uninterrupted time with the three best kids she knows, there have been lots of tears. She bites her lip. Hating to admit her daughter was right, there was a reason why they didn’t often leave the kids. After everything that has happened to their family the level of codependency is somewhat suffocating. She always knew Dana would be a wonderful mother, and god is she, and fox is such an involved and exceptional father. They dote on these kids and it's not hard to understand why. Emily’s health issues, Jacksons and Williams unique sensing. The littlest one is such a combination of her parents. Maggie sighs watches the siblings sit on the porch nervously waiting for their parents to drive up the long windy drive.

Emily pulls the hat a little lower for her sister. Who happily looks up and smiles. Emily smiles too but turns to stare down the snowy drive.

Her brother William fearful “What if something happens to them on the drive from the airport?” he mutters, using his boot to kick a little snow off the step.

Emily looks over at him sadly. How horrible would it be that after everything that has happened to them their parents would be lost for something as stupid as ice and lack of snow tires.

“Dad grew up on the vineyard and he knows how to drive in snow.” she says calmly.

Always trying to channel her rational mother. Keep calm, think things through, don’t let your emotions dictate your actions or words. William still unsatisfied looks at his sister. Always the skeptic. Jackson nudges him with his shoulder. “

What have you missed the most this week Em?”

She smiles and loves that Williams twin Jackson is more focused on now.

“I miss dad’s ufo pancakes.” she smiles.

Thinking of how her dad would spread the fruit on top to look like it was flying. William nods. Em looks over at her younger brothers at 6 they are still annoying but at least now they can talk and play nerf guns with her.

“What about you Will?” William has been ringing the life out of his mittens and chewing on his lip nervously.

“I miss all the hugs.” he gives her a shy smile.

Her heart breaks a little. William might have been coddled a bit as a baby, and Grandma is pretty good about hugs but nothing matches a kid sandwich, in which both parents hug them and each other with their kids in the middle. Abruptly Jackson stands up marching down the stairs stomping his feet.

“What is taking them so long Em?? They were supposed to be here 20 minutes ago!” she watches as his anger flares and he kicks at the snow stomping out his frustration, snow starts to lift on its own and swirl around him.

“Jackson, jackson” she states as she sees rage building up in him.

“Hey count to 10 like mom does when you are upset.”

He groans in anger but as Emily starts to count with him his anger comes down, the snow stops flying all around him landing in a small heap beside his boots.

“What about you little one?” Emily asks her little sister who is just shy of 2.

Her sister all grins pulls the hat down on her head and closes her eyes and pretends to snore super loud.

They all giggle, their dad’s snoring a legendary sound that they have all heard when they had a bad dream or couldn’t get back to sleep.

Emily looks at her siblings at the way their intense eyes match each others, some blue, some hazel with flecks of gold. “I miss moms fuzzy robe and her perfume.”

Jackson nods. “I miss watching them dance to Elvis and Cher.” he grins.

Emily rolls her eyes. Only because mom lets you stand on her feet so you can dance too.

William chimes in. “right? Like dad doesn’t do that with you too Em.”

He’s got her there.

William’s voice continues. “I miss where we all lay on top of dad and watch star trek. Voyager is finally getting really good.”

Jackson nods. “I like that we all can’t stand Neelix.”

Emily laughs. “He is the worst and so boring.”

“Right?”

The smallest Mulder nods in agreement and starts to eat at her mitten.

Emily looks at her brother and moves closer; they all snuggle together and stare at the trees toward the giant metal gate at the end of the road. She looks to the side at the swing set and playhouse. The crumbling snow alien they built last week, and the tulips that have just popped out of the snow. She knows this trip was necessary, that being apart is sometimes good. But as she rubs her brother's arm and feels a small squeeze from the other brother she can’t help thinking that 7 days is far too long. Yes they have talked on the phone and video chatted. But it isn’t the same as you mom rubbing your back as she changes her voice to match the characters in a book. It’s not the same to have her help with your science homework when she isn’t next to you to smile in encouragement. She looks over towards the basketball hoop, how her dad will lift both her brothers up to do layups. She told them both she would be fine, she is a big girl almost double digits. She can make sure that will and jackson clean their rooms. She can make sure her sister brushes 4 tiny teeth. Then finally it happens they can see some headlights in the distance and they start to run. Even the newest little Mulder is going as fast as her little snowsuit will allow. It doesn’t matter that William lost his boot or that Emily's hat falls off half way there.

Finally they are there back in the arms of their parents. She looks up at her mom who has tears streaming down her face to her dad who is kissing every inch of his son's face as he squeezes the life out of the other. It doesn’t matter that they have fallen into a heap of tangled limbs wrapped around one another sitting on the cold snow.

She hears her grandmother in the distance. Feels her dad helping her up on her feet, rubbing his hand over her hair. She sees her mother lifting her sister into her arms as she holds onto Jackson's hand. Her dad’s voice cuts through the wind and snow. “So I take it you missed us?” he says with a sad chuckle and Emily can’t help but turn back to him as they walk to the house. She sees the fine lines in his face, the deep crevices in his face he hasn’t slept in a week it looks like. She gives him a big smile. Williams' voice comes up.

“Looks like you may have missed us more since you came home early.”

He is trying to be tough now, play it cool. Jackson doesn’t even bother trying as he hugs their moms leg. Emily watches as his dad leans over and gives his mom a loving kiss, she realized she missed that too. The blatant affection they have between one another. Her mom smiles.

“Yes your dad wanted to come home after 1 day but I told him you guys were fine and could sweat it out.”

Emily meets her mother's eyes and sees the pain and truth in her reflection. Her mom wanted to come home too, how these two made it 7 days is beyond her. As they walk to the house her dad spins her sister in the air with whooshing sounds. Her mother comes up pulls her close and whispers“we tried to get a flight 2 days ago but everything was cancelled for the storm, we even tried to get a car to drive it instead but the highway was down from a tree. Was everything ok? God we missed you all so very very much.”

Her mother's arms are tightly wrapped around her. She feels it then, the warmth, the smell of her perfume, the sound of her voice resonating in her ears. She missed her mom so much. She sees her grandmother on the steps with a dish towel in her hand. Emily nods towards her, grandparents are great but nothing beats having your whole family together again.

#fictober20 #todayinfic #msr #fluff #myfic #au #all together #snowy lane of memories #mulder and scully #xfiles #post season 9 #family fic

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staylavendertea · 4 years ago

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ya head canons cause my brain won’t leave me alone

billy is low key a skater boy - he skateboards 🛹🛹 converse high tops, ripped black jeans with bandaids on his knees, and oversized stolen boyfriend jean jackets rolled sleeves god yes he skates 🛹🛹 he and tommy will team up just to be bastards for like ten minutes and do that synchronized talking just to both annoy and creep the hell out of eli and kate

tommy is a rollerskater - and roller blades - the twins are skaters, he totally would have been a roller derby kid i tell you, also quoting everything he hears on the internet “what are you doing out here with all that ass double checked up on a thursday afternoon hella ass” “tommy that’s just a fat pigeon stOP” and even tho he did have a hard time for a while to open up to everyone and be emotional in front of the people he loves, with the help of everyone, he’s slowly learning he can confine in people and have relationships and bonds and that enough is to make me cry at night, i love thomas shepherd and his character so much

kate is always hung over, even when she isn’t - sunglasses on, looking like every day is too much for her head to handle especially with all these dumbass clumsy boys she gotta deal with, just let her chill with cassie at lakes and look at fireflies, but that lake better have good service so she can text billy the first scoop on that celebrity goosip - they’ve been following this shit for weeks, phone service don’t let her down now

teddy is an artist, sketching like always ya know, usually billy ends up unconsciously being most of the drawings, but his favorites to use is watercolor, pretty flat colors and making his friends look all blushy in drawings, the group doesn’t believe him when he says that they’re all cute so he’s made it his life goal to keep complimenting him cause he’s the nicest boy alive - a stranger calls bee cute, teddy will nod and agree because truetrue, but will send a semi threatening death glare

nate is like the teenager that will go on walks by himself and end up stumbling upon abandoned and creepy places and then either like billy/eli/or cassie ends up getting a call at one in the morning because he got either kinda lost or kinda stuck and the gang needs to come get him - he and eli probably have matching jojo clothing merch but eli is a repressed nerd so rip nate who just wants to have matching jojo sweatpants when they go work out together

eli may or may not have done the jojo pose trend of anime characters in the studio he does his boxing and martial arts, katie and cassie may or may not both of saved the video, eli is actually a total repressed nerd but won’t admit it and tommy can totally see it, nate can also see it, why do you think these three argue so much - nate just wants to be anime buddies i tell you - eli is someone who feels very strongly about injustice and gets emotional when all his friends back him up when he speaks out about it - please i need to see eli bradley in more comic books, give him and tommy the fame they deserve

cassie went to the broug and got herself some frogs - not only do i not know if i’m spelling that right or what it is, i just saw the tik tok and the cassie energy was too strong, she likes froggies and makes those tiny moss environments in jars and she likes to chill in nature and steal nate’s flannels and when her, katie, and billy are hanging out, cassie and billy will be gushing about boyfriends ya know with katie making gagging noises in the background

david is that dude that can just read people but is also like really chill about it “like yeah i totally just did a mental psychoanalysis on you just by who your kins are, but i know that you get kinda guarded about it so i won’t say anything because i love and respect you” i love david a lot okay, - he’s also resident technology please make work or i need you to look at this video or photo and prove this shit guy - he’s fixed poor nate has somehow flung this thing across the room like four times now phone on more occasions then he can count but he’s pretty chill about it

noh-varr is a non binary asexual dork that likes aliens and video games, he has a jacket that’s green and has a human getting picked up by a ufo that only says “fuck this. i’m out.” 🛸🛸 and him and katie have given poor mom of the group teddy a heart attack on more than one occasion being deadass serious about storming area 51

america has got her hat on backwards and is ready to fucking party and to mess around with her friends, the best part of her day is to get stuck in abandoned places and flirt with katie, her and noh varr go randonauting like every other day and get so lost, then her and the chaotic twins team up to be mischievous little bastards, her and teddy did pride and racial injustice movement graffiti that one time and she really just here to be the most badass around and protect their group and also like the whole world

(an extra billy one cause i relate to him on an emotional level)

billy is a film kid, like in a non powers au, he’s the dude that literally does all film related classes and is gonna be a film major and the best sfx make up artist, knows all movies/quotes/and endings - he’s the kid that knows the sfx stuff too well, he will liquid latex and cotton ball zombie your ass up if you let him to - you can’t tell me that his favorite genre of movies is horror monster and aliens, but also those pretty aesthetic romance ones that take place in country side france in small towns

these dorks also totally go to abandoned places for adventures (most of them stumbled accidentally upon by nate) and just have fun ya know

these are the most brain forth ones atm, i definitely have more, and will be adding most of these to the young avengers fics i’m working on, but please do add your own !! these dork teens are currently my everything

#young avengers #headcanon #billy kaplan #teddy altman #thomas shepherd #cassie lang #nate richards #eli bradley #kate bishop #noh varr #david alleyne #america chavez #ya #marvel

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fandomlurker · 4 years ago

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A Ponderous Rewatch: Battle for the Planet and Cameos

You know, I keep trying to be minimal with the amount of images I put in these posts, but I think it’s kind of a losing battle…especially when it comes to episodes animated by TMS like the second one coming later on today. I can’t help it, some of the expressions and poses are just too good to not be shared.

In any case, let’s begin with one very small cameo appearance in “Space Probed”:

Our little duo have apparently found themselves abducted by aliens, only to be kept in lab conditions much like the one on Earth at ACME Labs. This is one of those times where I wish I could know the production order of these episodes and not just the air date order… Why? Well, because this small cameo could potentially line up really well with an upcoming episode. Just keep that in mind for now.

With that out of the way, we move on to our next full skit:

And we begin with the Brain expositing to Pinky about how he came up with the plan for this episode.

“Halloween, Pinky: 1938. Mercury Radio Theatre presented an adaptation of H. G. Wells’ ‘War of the Worlds’ that was so realistic, people actually fled the cities believing that creatures from Mars were attacking the Earth. It proved that radio was a powerful tool…and now, Pinky, the advance of technology has brought us an even more powerful tool. Do you know what that is?”

Before we move on, how many of you reading this have heard about this? And how many of you know that this is actually an incident that happened in real life? Yes, people actually fled their homes after hearing this broadcast. Not a lot of people, of course. Not by a long shot. Most just made panicked phone calls to their local police station or to the radio station itself to find out what was really going on. The incident also wasn’t nationwide or anything like that, it was quite local. If anything, the radio play caused much more outrage after the fact than initial panic.

Another amusing anecdote is that Orson Welles was the man who directed, narrated, and played a main character in the broadcast. For those of you who may not be in the know, although Brain was initially based on animator and writer Tom Minton at Warner Brothers, Brain’s voice actor Maurice LaMarche based his voice on Orson Welles. Or, well, as Mr. LaMarche puts it: “The Brain is 70 percent Welles, 20 percent Vincent Price, and I don't know, there's another 10 percent of something else in there. I don't know what. Some people think it's Peter Lorre. I don't know what it is.”.

Strong references aside, I’m betting most of you can see the massive holes in the Brain’s plan already. Hoo boy…

“Umm… The rubber band?”

“The workings of your mind are a mystery to me, Pinky.”

“Ooo! I love a good mystery, Brain!”

You know, this little sequence with Brain nonchalantly stretching the rubber band while walking away from Pinky and Pinky determinedly holding on until Brain lets go off camera and sends Pinky flying is… Well, I don’t know what it is about it, but it’s kind of cute in a weird slapstick way? Like, it’s hard to tell if Brain did that on purpose to send Pinky flying for not understanding his plan…or if he actually wanted Pinky to follow him and tried to lead him to where he was walking but Pinky thought it was some kind of tug-o-war game and Brain got exasperated and let go of the rubber band.

Either way, Pinky doesn’t seem to mind.

“Television, Pinky, is our new tool!”

“We will pirate the airwaves and stage a hoax like ‘War of the Worlds’!”

Brain, you’re very good with that lasso. I’m impressed!

“Three cameras, Brain?”

“Yes… A technique pioneered by the great Desi Arnaz. And with them we will scare the people of the cities, leaving no resistance behind. We will have taken over the world!”

Well, Brain, that technique first being used by Desi Arnaz is a myth (it was more than likely actually pioneered by Jerry Fairbanks around 1947), but I’m going to give you a pass on this because you likely couldn’t fact check this very well at the time.

I do have to give Brain credit for being as dramatic as possible while announcing his plan, though. He really does know how to put on a show.

“Egad, Brain, brilliant!”

And Pinky is, as usual, full of praise and extremely excited about the plan. Look at him clapping and hopping around, aww… I’m starting to think that half the reason Brain goes through with these long, expository explanations of his plans to Pinky despite Pinky not quite following along a lot of the time is just to impress Pinky. Brain needs reassurance and Pinky always provides.

“Oh! Oh, wait, no, no…”

“Why would they be scared of us? We’re so small and we’re practically the size of mice, Brain.”

“We are mice, Pinky.”

“Oh, right! Well, there you are, then. Eh heh heh…”

…Okay, so, Pinky also tends to deflate the praise a bit when pointing out potential flaws in the plan like this, but it’s the initial thought that counts.

Yeah, I know, Brain. I know. But Pinky really is trying to be helpful.

“It’s not a question of size, Pinky. It’s a question of scale! Watch the monitor.”

“*gasp* Zounds, Brain! You’re gigantic!”

“Television, Pinky: The Great Deceptor!”

“Narf~…”

No, you aren’t seeing things. Pinky just…just stands there in front of the TV looking at live footage of a close-up of Brain and sighs in awe and affection while clasping his little hands together. I don’t even think I need to make a “Fellas, is it gay to--?” joke here. All that’s missing is little hearts appearing around his head.

We cut to a little while later, where the duo has everything set up for their broadcast. It looks like Pinky must have done the lettering for their props, since it actually looks decent and nothing like Brain’s scrawlings. Yes, I’m going to continue roasting Brain’s terrible penmanship. It amuses me.

“How is my disguise, Pinky?”

“OH! Is that you, Brain?!?”

“You flatter me, Pinky. Now, throw the switch and let us begin…the Battle for the Planet!”

Title drop! Also, aww. To be fair, Brain, I’m not sure Pinky was intending to be flattering so much as he was actually unsure if that really was you or not. But the fact that you took it as flattery is very telling, I think.

Pinky throws the switch, and the plan is officially underway!

According to the Animaniacs wiki, these people bear a striking resemblance to Elmyra’s family. If that’s what was intended, this is quite the early omen for the horrible “Pinky, Elmyra, and the Brain” spin-off that was made after the regular PatB spin-off. I don’t think I’m going to fully cover that show in the far future. It’s not the fun kind of terrible…it’s just terrible.

Oh hey, they were watching Family Matters! Too bad this is many, many years before they could bear witness to Dark Urkle Tribute.

And there’s Ralph, enjoying coffee and a doughnut.

And…some TV station broadcast folks. It kinda bothers me that these two basically have the same model except for different hair colours.

“We interrupt your regular broadcast to bring you this important news bulletin…”

“What is that?!”

“Someone’s pirated the TV lines!”

“Scientists have just reported that a large, unidentified flying object seems to be heading towards Earth. There is no cause for alarm…”

“…But there probably will be.”

Subtle, Brain.

Oh, hi, Warners! You certainly picked a good time to escape tonight.

“We take you now to our satellite view of the planet, perhaps to catch a glimpse of this fearful courier of the unknown.”

Cue Pinky making ridiculous “shoosh” and “shoom” and “weee!~” noises. Very convincing.

“I’ve just received word that the UFO is about to crash land nearby. There should be a great explosion!”

“I said, THERE SHOULD BE A GREAT EXPLOSION!”

“Hmm? Oh! OH, right, Brain! Narf!”

Nice blep, pinky.

Somehow, people watching the broadcast are still terrified. I’ve gotta admit that I didn’t expect this plan to go this well for this long.

…Okay, maybe I spoke too soon.

“Sorry, Brain…”

“…We’ll go live to the crash site momentarily.”

He says before near-instantly cutting to the “crash site”, still in the same disguise. Brain, honey, I know you’re probably trying to reduce broadcast downtime so that the audience doesn’t start to question what they’re seeing, but you do know that quick cuts like this ruin the illusion of this being a live broadcast…right?

Oh, who am I kidding? Of course he doesn’t know that. As usual, Brain has tunnel vision and expects his plans to go one certain way, and any details that don’t fit his internal narrative are discarded or not even thought about.

Just let me slide on in…

“I’m reporting to you live from the crash site and I…I’m at a loss for words. Can we get a shot of this very frightening scene?”

He’s right. That’s the most frightening…ly obvious cardboard spaceship I have ever seen.

But okay, I love these tiny prop improvisations they had to do. The bare cardboard wings taped to some kind of spray can for the body of the ship, a stray water cooler cup for the cone, test tubes for the thrusters, random little sewing pins for some kind of antenna, a dirty beige blanket to simulate soil for the crash zone… It’s so hastily cobbled together yet so goddamn cute.

Ralph still seems convinced that this is real, though that isn’t saying much.

“I am now positioned close to the…well, I can only assume that this is a vehicle from outer space, its occupants here to destroy the Earth.”

“Oooo!~ OoooOOOooo!~”

“Wait! There is a strange noise emanating from inside. Something seems to be coming out of the ship!”

They made a glove into an alien space suit with a tiny peephole to accommodate Pinky’s face and they fashioned a little belt from something for it, aaaaa! This is so adorable! Look at Pinky trying to be scary! He’s just all >:B throughout this entire scene.

BUG FOGGER

WARNING

CONTENTS UNDE

EXTREME PRESS

GAS

I’m wondering why they couldn’t label it as “bug spray”. I’ve honestly never heard of it being called “bug fogger”. Is that an American thing? (Also: Tiny sandbag wall!)

“Oh my! It’s hideous! Ladies and gentlemen, I can hardly describe this terrifying creature before me, except to say: Run for your lives! Go on! Empty the cities! Leave everything behind!”

“I…I don’t know how long I can stay on the air. I’ll try to get to our aerial view in chopper five!”

Okay, it seems even Elmyra’s family and the broadcast folks are still under the impression that this is actually happening. And Brain instantly cuts again to the aerial view. Brain, I think you’ve been watching too many movies.

“Chopper five, high above the city. The horrible creatures from Mars…invading…destroying everything in their path! Oh, the humanity!”

Since this is a still image the impact is lessened but Brain is rapidly beating his fist against his side to simulate the sound of helicopter blades and it’s actually pretty effective. Well done, lil guy, I never would’ve thought to do something like that. Your foley work is great!

The milk carton buildings still have straws in them to make chimneys! There’s little Chinese takeout boxes as buildings, too! I’m so charmed by all these quaint ways they’ve made their props.

Also, the Pinky-alien has apparently grown to kaiju size now, somehow. Brain, you’ve got to make your hoax at least a little consistent!

“This is no hoax, ladies and gentlemen. I urge you to run for your lives while you can! We’re not making this up just so we can take over the world!”

Goddamnit, Brain. You are the worst liar in the history of forever.

“Oh no! It’s heading this way! Run for your lives! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!”

I just thought these cowering poses Brain did were funny and cute. He is so small and vulnerable…

So Pinky starts to menace the camera itself and—

—Oops. This isn’t going to go well.

Poor, poor Pinky.

“We did it, Pinky. Brilliant performance!”

Holy shit, sincere praise from Brain! I’m sure Pinky will treasure it.

“Undoubtedly, the population has fled in fear from their ‘terrifying enemy’, HA!”

Umm. About that, Brain…

“Let us make haste…to The White House!”

Brain, you may want to at least wait a little while so that people can actually—

Ouch.

WOW, who needs Twitter in this universe when the press is this fast?

“’Battle for the Planet is a comedy smash… World laughs together. Stay home for this one!’”

“Pinky, are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

“Well, I think so, Brain…but if we didn’t have ears, we’d look like weasels.”

“[sighs] No, Pinky… Our hoax…no one went anywhere! No one fled the cities! They found us…humorous.”

If it helps any, boys, I also found you incredibly adorable.

“Where are you going, Brain?”

“Back to our cage, Pinky. We must plan for tomorrow night.”

“Why? What are we going to do tomorrow night?”

I like how Pinky is at first concerned about Brain’s mood and then we he sees that Brain is just walking home to plan for tomorrow night he’s bouncing on his tip-toes after him.

“The same thing we do every night, Pinky: Try to take over the world!”

TO BE CONTINUED because apparently Tumblr finds this post too long otherwise,

#Pinky and the Brain #PatB #Battle for the Planet

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fandom-gt · 5 years ago

Note

Voyeur!Steve gets safely vored by an unaware Bucky.

He’s got the Pym particles, a custom suit, he’s got the whole damn thing planned out. It’s perfect, it’s safe beyond all measure. Two backup fail-safe options just on the off chance that for whatever reason he can’t zap himself out of it once he’s done.

He sure as shit can’t tell Bucky, because he’d never agree to do it in a million years - no matter how many back-up plans he had. Besides, this... thing he’s got is a little weird, a little personal, he’s a little ashamed of it.

It’s just... Bucky’s got perfect lips, perfect teeth, a plush pink tongue, and every time Steve sees him toss something into his mouth and start crunching it up he stares a little too hard and gets a little too hot in his face.

He plants himself inside of Bucky’s favorite brand of chips while Bucky’s away at the gym, because he knows the guy comes back with a ravenous hunger and too impatient to cook.

He’s beyond small. The bag he’s in is a cathedral. The chip he’s on is nearly the size of the floor plan in his old apartment. If he’s even remotely noticeable at all, it’s as a fleck of seasoning at best.

Sure enough, right on the mark, he can hear the thunder that probably comes at the end of the world. A sound so loud and so deep his eardrums can’t properly perceive it. It’s followed by a rush of air, and then his eyes lift up to the metallic paper walls above him. One of them bends in with a sound so loud it’s like standing at the bottom of Niagara falls. Four more fresh dents appear in the walls around him, then crumple the ceiling in a way that actually makes his heart rate spike.

It’s like demolition. It’s like watching a skyscraper get quarantined and then ritually exploded, thousands of tons of mass falling in on itself - just to stop abruptly because Bucky’s stopped squeezing his fingers shut.

Feeling the movement is different in here. The bag itself is presumably soaring through space, but it almost has its own gravity at this point. What he’s got to look out for is the way the chips rearrange themselves - tectonic plates shifting, the one he’s on suddenly veering down sharply and another slicing across it. He watches over his shoulder as a chip a hundred or more times bigger than him just cracks in half like nothing, sending debris exploding that is also bigger than him.

He’s got to grip on tight to the imperfections in his chip as it tilts up nearly vertically, just shy of a 90 degree angle. It’s at the top of the bag, at least, so he won’t be buried.

The divots disappear with that same rushing, deafening white-noise, and then above him the heavens open up. Where there once was darkness, now a slowly widening gaping light streaming in, blocked in the middle by a god-like face larger than any moon in the night sky. Bucky’s face blown up times a million, every detail enhanced from his bright blue searching eyes to the little chapped wrinkles in his lips.

He stares straight down at Steve, unblinking. He can actually see Bucky focus on him, the pupil of his eye lined up with Steve’s like they’re making direct eye contact.

Except there’s no flicker of recognition. Not even a beat of pause. Bucky’s lips are blocked from his view by an intruder into his space, a massive creature of flesh, skin-toned whirls of fingerprints that are the size of trenches.

He ears a little thud when Bucky’s finger makes contact on the flat wall of his chip. Another slow-motion thud when his thumb clamps down. Soft scratching of friction beneath his fingerprints.

And then the movement - the sheer force he has to fight against as Bucky pulls his chip from the pile, the others catching and falling off, the combination of gravity and g-force thrusting him down so hard he has to cling with every ounce of strength he’s got. Like an angel or like God, Bucky peels him from the darkness and slowly into the light, an unfathomable blurry bright space that stretches on infinitely.

There’s no pause in his motion. Steve sees the top of the bag, the distant colors of furniture and walls too far away to comprehend - he can barely see to the end of his chip. His only real focal point for several miliseconds is that too-close too-big finger pulling them through space, until very abruptly a new landscape comes into view.

He keeps soaring toward it, heart racing, the knowledge that even if he started yelling now, even if he changed his mind, there’s not a thing slowing down Bucky guiding that chip toward stretching, parted lips. He passes over building-sized teeth, and Bucky steers him toward his back molars.

Passing into Bucky’s mouth is like going through a portal - from bright and airy to dark and humid, the feeling of exhaled breath surrounding him even without Bucky actively breathing, muggy and oppressive.

He glances over his shoulder toward the exit, and he sees the vacancy of freedom through the slowly closing frame of teeth and gums and lips.

Above him, those molars descend unstoppably. They’re irregular and uneven, and Steve finds himself flat on his back staring up as his largest tooth comes down around him, the highest peaking ridges slamming down in sequential cracks to his left, to his right, grinding the chip there into dust before he even finishes biting down.

And he does finish biting, but Steve’s made himself so small that even with his teeth really and properly shut they don’t crush him into nothing. He has one second to experience being pinned between upper and lower molar, the platform he’d been on cracked beyond repair, the enamel grinders around him merciless.

They part again, but barely. Bucky’s mouth doesn’t completely open, so no new light streams in. Just a sudden wash of saliva, the shifting of new chip over top of him, and then another pulverizing crunch that gnashes the chip into a clump that sticks him to the bottom tooth. He’s still trapped there when he hears the deep, guttural vacuum of a swallow that takes place off to his left, the surge of suction that follows it - it gently pulls at his prison, but it doesn’t dislodge him.

The teeth part more widely, and Steve sees in slow-motion the oncoming of a new predator. The tongue he always thought of as soft and plush becomes a tidal wave of probing muscle, the tip of it slamming down into him and grinding him back and forth against the surface of Bucky’s molar. It’s wet, there are long strings of saliva that cascade off of it as it moves, working and shoving Steve out of his tiny divot.

He manages to dislodge himself from the remnants of his chip platform, winds up rolling end over end off of the tooth and to the floor beneath him - the slick, slippery underside of a tongue and the place it meets gums.

Seemingly satisfied, the tongue moves to drop heavily onto him, shrouding him in heat and darkness, trapping him beneath it so that he can only barely see the influx of light from Bucky’s parting lips. Another chip passes through them, and this time Bucky’s mouth closes completely before he chews - the tongue thrusts the chip up with great force into the roof of his mouth, cracking it and breaking it at the center so saliva and gentle guidance steer it in uneven halves toward teeth on either side.

Steve uses this freedom to thrust himself forward, clearing great distance toward the back of Bucky’s front teeth. If he stays beneath the tongue he’ll wind up trapped there.

He launches himself as high as he can, barely managing to catch onto the ledge of Bucky’s lower front tooth. They don’t line up flush with the upper front teeth, so he thinks there shouldn’t be any grinding or swallowing to end him so soon if he takes up an audience view there.

What he’s not counting on is the force of the swallow, the way it drags him backward, the way he lands plastered to the bottom of the tip of Bucky’s tongue.

Lips part slow, and he can hear the sound of the skin unsticking, tacky with saliva. He can hear the almost velcro-like sound of the middle of Bucky’s tongue peeling away from the roof of his mouth, and then he’s soaring through the air toward the light again - then down as Bucky licks his lips. He peels Steve off on accident by the way he keeps his lips closed for it, the sheer force and weight of his tongue pushing Steve down into one of the little divots in Bucky’s lower lip and sealing him there with sticky, glue-like saliva.

He’s stuck there, caught in the folds, arms outstretched and legs straight down. Staring up grants him only a limited view - Bucky’s upper lip stretching out in either direction like sprawling lawn, the very tip of his nose, maybe the edge of a high cheekbone, and nothing else. Not even a chance at eyes, because he’s just too god damn small to see over the curvature of Bucky’s face. It’s disorienting and a little overwhelming to know that he’s beneath even the ability to make one-sided eye contact.

But the experience isn’t over, and Steve watches another chip pass over his head like a UFO, soaring slow motion into the cavern behind him.

Lips close, meaning Bucky’s top lip presses down onto his bottom. As it descends, he sees every uneven bit of texture, every plump piece, every crumb still caught and still larger than him. He sees it coming down on him unrelentingly, sealing together on his left and his right until finally it seals him too.

He’s caught between upper and lower lip, and the upper one grinds back and forth over him while Bucky chews, dragging dry skin and heavy weight left and then right.

The tongue doesn’t come back.

Two or three more chips pass before there’s a break between them, and something new arrives in his sphere of vision.

A bright pink mound, a smoothed over surface, shiny and as thick as the lip he’s on.

It touches down a hundred yards to the right, landing with a sticky, deafening thud. Then it begins to drag, passing at great speed and clearing too much distance toward him.

It passes over his entire being, and he recognizes the smell and the taste instantly. It’s chapstick, and Bucky coasts it back and forth, sealing him in place with two coats.

He didn’t account for this particular scenario when he made his backup plans. He’s trapped, unseen and known, on Bucky’s lower lip.

#soft vore #no swallowing #extreme micro #unaware #giant/tiny #g/t #sfw #sfwish at least?#Stucky

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destieldisaster · 4 years ago

Text

06x09 - Clap Your Hands If You Believe

MotW: actual fairies!

Any Cas? Nope

Cas in the x-files parody intro!

God, soulless Sam has the best lines

This whole plotline really emphasises again how much Dean does care about people, which is one of the best parts of the show

It sure looks like a UFO

"I think the fourth kind is a butt thing" I cannot hear this without thinking about that post when destiel went canon the 3rd time and I'm laughing SO HARD

"Empathy, Sam. Empathy" cue Sam ordering a drink 😂

"It's fine. I mean, I've had time to adjust" "Did it happen when you were kids?" "No, like half an hour ago" 😂

"Have you considered the posibility that you suck at hunting UFOs?" 😂

Okay, this is definitely the best Soulless Sammy episode

Dean coming back to Sam fucking a random chick is priceless

"Probing table" "God, don't say that out loud"

"I had a close encounter, Sam.. and I won" Dean your FACE and your BODYLANGUAGE here

"Say you've got a soul and you're on a case and your brother gets abducted by aliens" only on supernatural, ffs

"So you're saying having a soul equals suffering" "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying" a fun lighthearted show this sure ain't

Awww, he mentioned Lisa :(

What. The. Fuck. Dean fought and MICROWAVED a fairy. Beautiful scene

"I'm not supposed to laugh, right?" no Sam, but don't worry, I've got that covered 😂

"You're the one who pizza-rolled Tinker Bell" GOLD

"Dean, did you service Oberon, king of the faries?" HE SAID WITH A STRAIGHT FACE. I'M CRYING (but yes this is a hatecrime)

I love the fairy lady, she's actually really knowledgeable about the lore

Sam with that tiny tiny cup is such a funny shot

Dean, duuuuuude

Ohhhh, UFO dude is the leprechaun! (the sentences this show gets me to write jesus)

The implications of the whole fairyrealm and all those different fairies being real, though! Does that ever even come back?

HAHAHAHA, HE ACTUALLY HAS TO COUNT ALL THE SALT

Okay, so.. the intro was Misha baiting? That's low, show

#honestly love how this is setup to be x-files and then it just goes full fairies instead #there's a parallel in there about the show turning into a gay love story and it's beautiful #spn rewatch #06x09 #clap your hands if you believe #rewatch potential #supernatural #long post

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ancsthctist-archived · 4 years ago

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LAYER 001 : THE OUTSIDE.

NAME : Masahiro Reijiro

EYE COLOUR : Hazel, on the greener side

HAIR STYLE / COLOUR : Warm black

HEIGHT : 5′8″

CLOTHING STYLE : Very grunge hipster when not wearing his lavender hospital scrubs. He pays special attention to his myriad facial piercings, which can range from being regular black or transparent silicone to wooden, metal, and glitzy-glam rhine- or gemstone. His usual outfit consists of skinny jeans, chucks, a t-shirt or hoodie (or both), sometimes a beanie, and his glasses.

BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE : It’s a toss-up between his eyes and his mouth.

LAYER 002 : THE INSIDE.

FEARS : Losing the ones he loves. Losing his reasons and/or will to live. Not being good enough to the ones he loves the most. Being unable to help. Failing. Failing in the Operating Theatre.

GUILTY PLEASURE : Sweet foods. He knows he shouldn’t because they’re bad for him but--! Cupcakes are his biggest weakness. Especially the little tiny ones. With buttercream icing! Bonus points if the icing is purple and glittery.

BIGGEST PET PEEVE : Being told he can’t do something when obviously he can and should and now will because he’s a petty little bitch and will do the thing you told him not to do just to spite you.

AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE : Find some kind of happiness and hold onto it for dear life.

LAYER 003 : THOUGHTS.

FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP : Depends on whether or not he works. If he works, his thoughts are rapidfire. Up. Shower. Brush teeth, put on clothes, grab bag. Leave. If he doesn’t work, no thoughts head empty. Maybe I want egg. And coffee.

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT MOST : Mostly worrying whether or not he’s adequate or not. In any capacity. Is he a good doctor? He definitely tries and works hard. Is he a good partner? Not to Hanzou apparently. Things he did that maybe he could have or should have done differently. Things he should have done better. Ways he could be better and maybe try to change about himself or improve. Wanting approval but being afraid to ask for it.

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED : Did he forget to do anything?

WHAT THEY THINK THEIR BEST QUALITY IS : He’s a doctor, so he’s.... useful. :/

LAYER 004 : WHAT’S BETTER ?

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES : Single is preferred, but will tolerate group dates if invited.

TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED : Respected, arguably.

BEAUTY OR BRAINS : Both are great.

DOGS OR CATS : Cats.

LAYER 005 : DO THEY…

LIE : Not usually. If he does, it’s to protect himself or other people from those who would hurt him or people he cares about.

BELIEVE IN THEMSELVES : He does! He’s genuine in everything he does for other people, be it within the hospital or without. If he’s unsure about something medical, he will always seek second, third, and even fourth opinions.

BELIEVE IN LOVE : He tries. Oh god, he tries. He definitely feels love, but always worries it’s not real.

WANT SOMEONE : Yes

LAYER 006 : HAVE THEY EVER…

BEEN ON STAGE : Uh, does karaoke count?

DONE DRUGS : Marijuana’s not a drug--

CHANGED WHO THEY WERE TO FIT IN : Absolutely.

LAYER 007 : FAVOURITES.

FAVOURITE COLOUR : Purples!

FAVOURITE ANIMAL : Cat

FAVOURITE BOOK : He used to read a lot of books in his younger years, but now he just has no time or energy to read. He tries to read books that are in both English and Japanese, but he can hardly remember what they’re about because of how busy and braindead he is due to his work.

FAVOURITE GAME : Whatever games he plays with Yoru-chan. He’s also damn good at UFO Catcher. Surgical precision, baby.

LAYER 008 : AGE.

DAY THEIR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE : July 15th

HOW OLD WILL THEY BE : 58 (current year, verse dependent)

LAYER 010 : FINISH THE SENTENCE.

I LOVE : Helping people.

I FEEL : Tired.

I HIDE : My anguish. My pain. My insecurities. All of my problems.

I MISS : My mother.

I WISH : I could be better.

Tagged by: stole’d it from @hanakarii aM A THIEEF Tagging: Pls steal it!

#YAKUZA // . -- 私の血は私が見るすべてです

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bestillmyslashyheart · 5 years ago

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My contribution to the RNM Remix was a role reversal of @caitlesshea‘s The Way You Wore because clothes sharing is 100% a thing malex does and there aren’t enough fics of it (you should totally go read hers first because its amazing and she’s amazing)

Contrary to popular belief, Michael could be subtle. He stole Alex’s clothes all of the time but Alex could never prove it. His clothes always disappeared when he was moving or when there were other people around to blame and Michael never wore them when Alex was around.

Alex, on the other hand, was anything but subtle. One might even call him shameless.

“Is that my shirt?” Michael’s voice was still groggy from sleep.

“No,” Alex lied blatantly, not even bothering to look down at the UFO Emporium logo on his chest. He’d given it to Michael after he’d quit his job there and he knew for a fact that the other boy slept in it all of the time. Except last night when neither one of them had bothered with a shirt at all.

“Looks like my shirt,” Michael commented as he shifted in the bed. Alex glanced over to see him with his head hanging half off the bed in order to get a good look at where Alex stood in the tiny kitchen.

“You need your eyes checked,” Alex remarked idly as he reached into the overhead cabinet for the granola bars he’d stashed there during his last visit. Michael let out a strangled groan as the shirt rode up.

“That’s just cheating.” Alex hummed, thankful Michael couldn’t see his face and so he didn’t have to hide his grin. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to even if he tried. “Come back here.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Eat later. Come here.” Out of the corner of his eye Alex saw Michael’s hand outstretched, his fingers squeezing shut as he grabbed at the air. “You can’t just stand there in my shirt and nothing else and expect me to wait for you to eat.”

Alex paused and glanced over his shoulder. “But you expect me to come to you?”

The ensuing silence last maybe half a breath before Alex heard the blanket get tossed aside and Michael’s feet hit the floor. A second later Michael crowded him from behind, his fingers dipping under the hem of the shirt to grasp at Alex’s bare hips. “You’re a tease, Alex Manes,” he whispered in wonder.

“Not my fault someone ripped my shirt last night.”

“I promise to rip your shirts forever if it gets me this.” Michael kissed him just behind his ear.

“Don’t you dare,” Alex warned. He started to open the packaging on the granola bar only for Michael’s hands to come up and rest over his.

“Eat later.” He kissed Alex’s shoulder. “You’re leaving in a few hours,” he reminded him, as if Alex wasn’t also counting every minute.

Alex dropped the bar with a sigh and turned in Michael’s arms. “Fine. But we do actually have to eat at some point.”

Michael hummed and nodded even as he leaned forward to capture Alex’s lips. “Later.”

“Alex.” Alex hummed questioningly without looking up from his computer. “Is that my jersey?”

“Hmm? No.” Alex still didn’t look up even though he’d already lost track of what he’d been doing. “It’s mine.”

“Oh yeah?” Michael slid onto the couch behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Is that why it says Guerin on it?”

Alex pretended to think about it. “Pure coincidence.”

Michael’s fingers dug into his ribs just enough to tickle. “You stole my jersey,” he accused. “I was looking everywhere for that.”

“First of all, I didn’t steal anything. It was on my bedroom floor, therefore it’s mine.”

“Uhuh,” Michael said disbelieving. “And second of all?”

“Second of all,” Alex looked over his shoulder at him. “Are you really complaining about me having your name on me?”

“Nope. Nuhuh, not here, not now,” a new voice interjected. Alex rolled his eyes and looked over as Patrick sat down next to him. “Game’s about to start and I am not giving up my couch to you two.”

Michael’s head perked up as Patrick changed the channel just in time to see the Eagles kick off against the Dolphins. Instantly he shifted from boyfriend mode to fan mode, his grip on Alex’s waist going lax as he moved out from behind him to get a better look at the TV.

Alex grabbed his computer and stood up with a shake of his head. “Go Fins,” he muttered, just to be contrary.

“You realize we’re lost, right?” Alex let his head roll to the side to give Michael a scathing look.

“You realize that’s half the point of a road trip, right?” Michael shot back.

“Not if we’re in the middle of nowhere and almost out of gas!”

“Eh, we’ll be fine.”

“Geurin.”

“Just keep an eye out for a gas station.”

“An eye out, huh?” Alex flung a hand at the window. “At the fucking desert?! There’s nothing around us for miles.” He dropped his head against the seat and closed his eyes. Michael’s truck had a few redeeming features but good gas mileage and adequate air conditioning were not among them.

He cracked an eye open and looked over when Michael didn’t respond. Both of his hands were clenched tight on the wheel, his eyes flitting between the road and the dash in increasing frequency. “Hey,” he said softly. Michael didn’t react. “We’ll find a gas station.”

“I should have filled it all the way up before we left.” He shook his head. “I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

“It’s not,” Alex tried only for Michael to spare a glare at him. “Okay, fine, it might be a little bit of a problem, but we’ll deal with it.” He put his hand on Michael’s thigh and squeezed gently. “It’ll be fine.”

As Michael drove, Alex fished his phone out of his pocket. They hadn’t had any reception for the last hour but it couldn’t hurt to check. After another thirty minutes, the gas tank now firmly in the red, Alex’s phone beeped with a new message. He sat up and swiped away the text from Maria without bothering to look at it in his hurry to pull up Maps. “Aha!” He crowed. “Nearest gas station is 3.2 miles ahead.”

The truck made it 2.3 miles before sputtering to a stop.

The two of them stared at the fuel gauge then at Alex’s phone before sighing. “Guess we’re walking it.” They got out without a word and walked the last mile to get gas just as the sun started to set. By the time they got back to the car, it was dark and Alex was feeling the chill in the air. As Michael filled the tank and made sure the truck was running okay, Alex dug around in his duffel bag until he found one of Michael’s flannels. For some reason, Michael tended to wear his flannels a little bit to big so Alex didn’t bother buttoning it up, he just tucked it in as he wrapped his arms around his waist and leaned against the door frame.

Michael slid in the driver’s seat and paused. “Is that my shirt?”

“No,” Alex denied as he shifted to get more comfortable. “It’s one of my many many flannels.”

“Uh huh,” Michael smiled as he shifted the truck into drive. “Well your flannel looks very comfortable.”

“Oh it is,” Alex agreed easily. He fell asleep soon after, waking up only when Michael pulled up to a cheap motel, the bright neon lights burning through his eyelids. That night, he didn’t bother changing for bed, opting instead to sleep in Michael’s shirt.

Two weeks later, when he was unpacking back on base, he found Michael’s shirt balled up at the bottom of his duffel.

He didn’t bother sending it back.

Alex didn’t think too hard about which clothes he was grabbing when the knock came. He’d tried to ignore it at first but it didn’t stop. Eventually, he scooped up a pair of jeans from the floor and slid them on before grabbing his crutches and hurrying out into the main room. The jeans dragged on the floor a little bit but he didn’t pay it much mind.

“I’m coming!” He called as the knocking persisted. “Jesus Christ, what?” He yanked the door open, narrowly avoiding Liz’s fist in his face.

“I figured it out!” She yelled, her smile splitting her face wide.

“What?”

“Max!” She half yelled, half laughed. “I figured it out!”

“What?” Michael asked as he came into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist and his skin still wet from the shower.

“I can wake Max up!” This time it was more a laugh than a yell. “I need you and Isobel and about twelve hours to prep but then we should be good to go.”

Michael’s face did a weird thing as he wavered between being ecstatic that Liz had figured it out and guarded against false hope. Alex watched the two emotions war on his face and turned to Liz. “That’s amazing, Liz. Just tell us what you need and you’ve got it.”

Liz nodded profusely. “Yeah, yeah, it’s kind of a lot so I’ll text it all to you. I just- I just really needed to tell you and I didn’t want to do it over the phone or wait or-” She stopped and shook her head. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening.”

“Don’t apologize,” Alex told her. “This is good news. I’m glad you came out to tell us.” He looked her over with a careful eye. “When was the last time you slept?”

Liz waved a hand. “I’ll sleep later.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You think Max is gonna be happy to wake up to you dead on your feet? Get some sleep and then we’ll wake Max up. Text us what you need.”

It took a few more minutes but eventually Alex wrangled a promise to nap out of her and sent her on her way. As soon as the door shut behind her, he turned to face Michael who hadn’t said another word. “Michael?”

“Is it bad that I’m not happy yet?”

“Of course not. Nothing’s happened yet.”

Michael nodded slowly and rested his free hand on Alex’s hip as he stepped in close. His other hand still held his towel up on his waist. Alex stayed quiet as Michael took a few deep breaths, his mind obviously whirring with Liz’s news.

“I’m really upset with Liz right now.”

Alex lifted his head to stare at him. “Why?”

“Because you’re standing there in nothing but my jeans and all I can think about is Max.”

Alex looked down at the faded jeans hanging off of his hips, the hem just dragging on the ground. “What are you talking about? These are my jeans.”

Michael’s lips ticked upwards. “Liar.”

“I never lie,” Alex sniffed. “I’m a paragon of truth and virtue.”

“Paragon of sass and bullshit more like.” He nudged his nose against Alex’s as he leant their heads together. “12 hours?”

“That’s what she said,” Alex reached out slowly to grab Michael’s hand, careful not to dislodge his crutch. “Why don’t we get some sleep? Make the time go by faster.”

“I won’t be able to sleep.”

“That’s fine, just lay down with me while I sleep.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Michael fell asleep two hours later. Sixteen hours later he pulled his brother out of his pod and watched as he took his first breath in months.

The loud crash of a stool slamming into the floor shocked the bar into silence. “Where is it?” Michael asked frantically. No one answered. “Who took it?!”

“Yo DeLuca! Stop cutting him off so early! He gets crazy,” some guy laughed in the corner. Michael held up his middle finger in response without bothering to look over.

He leaned over the counter, puppy eyes out in full force. “Maria, light of my life, apple of my eye,”

“Stow the shit, Guerin,” she cut him off.

“Where is it?” He continued as if she hadn’t said anything.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Maybe try your boyfriend.”

Alex stifled a laugh as Michael frowned and practically crawled on top of the bar to check the space behind it as Maria walked away.

“What is he looking for?” Kyle asked.

Alex shrugged, unwilling to answer. He watched as Michael searched around for another few seconds before turning to their table with a dejected look on his face.

“You!” He yelled as soon as he saw Alex, his finger pointed at him. “You stole it?!”

“Wait, is this all about-” Kyle started to ask.

“Yes,” Alex answered, unable to hold back the laugh this time as Michael fell into the chair next to him.

“You stole my hat,” he accused.

Alex reached a hand up to touch the brim of said hat. “This old thing? Nah, some idiot left it on the bar so I scooped it up. Finders keepers and whatnot.” He cocked his head to the side. “I think it suits me.”

Michael stared at him, hurt etched into every line in his face, before a smirk found its way onto his lips. “It’s alright.”

“Just alright?” Alex raised an eyebrow.

Michael hummed as he lifted the brim. He leaned in and kissed Alex lightly, pulling back just far enough to take him in. “Maybe a bit better than alright.”

Alex smirked and kissed him again, harder this time.

“You know what would make it better?” Michael asked softly. Alex shook his head. “If you didn’t bother wearing anything else while you had it on,” he leaned forward and whispered into his ear.

“Ew,” Kyle scoffed. “That was not nearly as quiet as you thought it was, dude.”

Alex really couldn’t care less. He stood up and tugged Michael after him as they escaped to the exits, the hat accomplishing exactly what he’d intended it to.

Alex looked up from the letter as Michael pulled up outside. He dropped it onto the table and hurried into the bedroom as Michael’s footsteps crossed the deck out front. It only took a few seconds for him to find the shirt, he’d put it on top of everything in Michael’s drawer even though the other man refused to wear it yet.

“Alex?” Michael called when he came in. Alex didn’t answer as he pulled off his own shirt and tugged on Michael’s. “Alex?” Michael’s voice was closer now.

Alex tossed his own shirt into the hamper on his way back to the kitchen. He paused in the doorway when he caught sight of Michael, the letter in his hands as he stared at it.

“Congratulations, college boy,” Alex remarked quietly. Michael looked up at him slowly, his face frozen in surprise.

“This-” he looked down at the acceptance letter briefly before his eyes snapped back up to Alex. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

Alex looked down at the MIT logo emblazoned on his chest. “Well look at that, so I am.”

Michael dropped the letter and crossed the room. “That’s my shirt.”

Alex smiled slowly. “Yeah. Yeah it is.”

“I’m going to MIT.”

“You’re going to MIT,” Alex grinned, Michael’s lips finally spreading wide in a smile of his own.

“I’m going to college!” Michael wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist and lifted until Alex’s feet dangled just off of the ground as he spun them in a circle. “I’m going to college,” he repeated, his voice a wonder even as Alex kissed him.

#malex fic #my fic #rnm #patrick makes a cameo #rnmremix2020 #i think thats what im supposed to tag it?

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chireikiden · 5 years ago

Note

Do you have any strong opinions on PC-98?

Honestly, not really. Unless that in itself counts.

I’ve just never been that into it for no particular reason, and though I don’t mind talking (mostly joking, I guess) about it with people who might care a lot more than I do, in any “serious” discussion I basically treat it as its own thing. If I do mention it, it’s probably half to preempt someone nitpicking. To me, the single-digit number of tiny nods in the entire Windows era (UFO’s Makai stuff having the most weight) simultaneously proves that it can’t be 100% dismissed, but also that it’s not by any stretch “relevant”. I do try to keep ZUN’s “canon until contradicted” statement in mind, but what actually counts as a contradiction seems to be pretty subjective, and to me it basically does erase most of it. Not that I remember when I last ran into a PC-98 fundamentalist or anything who thought it could or should all be treated as equally canon; forgive me if I’m wrong, but the PC-98 fans I know seem to agree that large parts of it just don’t fit with the rest of the series, even if they like to integrate the parts that do.

It is fun to think about counterfactuals and basically historical trivia, like how Mystic Square wouldn’t be that out of place if swapped with EoSD and how ZUN’s own perception of PC-98 vs. Windows seems to have evolved over time, but in the year 2020, in regards to the series as a whole it basically reminds me of… the so-called Yu-Gi-Oh Season 0? That mean anything to anyone? And no, not in the sense of being darker and edgier, but in that it was never explicitly erased but simply never revisited, and the rest of the long and branching series went on to be vastly different.

I will take the side of a PC-98 fan against a PC-98 basher, though. And I think it’s usually fun when fanworks tie it into the modern continuity even if I don’t see it that way in canon.

#ask #anonymous #general disc.#bonus points for the setting shift involving the introduction of a card game #says he has no strong opinions and goes on a ramble anyway #humanities student with an itchy essay finger

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admiralty-xfd · 5 years ago

Text

the whole truth

Chapter One: The Lie | Chapter Two: The Push | Chapter Three: The Descent

Chapter Four: The Split | Chapter Five: The Beginning

Chapter 6: The Thick

ST. HEDWIG HOSPITAL

BERLIN, GERMANY

NOVEMBER 1994

“Cassandra Spender?”

Diana knocked on the door of the hospital room, pushing it gently. The woman in bed sat up, seeming eager for a visitor.

“Come in, please,” she said politely. Diana walked over and held her hand out.

“I’m Special Agent Diana Fowley with the FBI,” she greeted her. “I’m just here to ask you a few questions.”

“About my abduction, you mean.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Well, yes,” Diana said, sitting across from her.

Her assignment over the past couple of years had been contacting abductees and tidying up after The Company’s experiments were over. Whatever information she gathered through official FBI channels would mysteriously disappear to maintain the secrecy of the project.

She’d done it for so long now it didn’t even seem wrong anymore; she knew these experiments were crucial to the very survival of the human race. She was well aware of the Machiavellian lows she’d been asked to sink to; but the ends truly did seem to justify any means necessary.

At least she convinced herself of that when things got confusing.

She’d met with countless people, particularly women, all over Europe, listening to their stories. MUFON members were specifically targeted by the Company for the tests because they were convinced of the lie that had been tailor made for them: that they’d been abducted by aliens, not men.

The second scenario would raise questions. The first would only raise eyebrows.

“It says here you were involved in the Skyland Mountain incident a few months back, and that wasn’t the first time,” she says. “What are you doing in Germany, if I may ask?”

Cassandra looked a bit dreamlike. “I felt a great desire to come here. It’s hard to explain, but ever since my abductions… I seem to go where I feel called.”

“I see you’re a member of the Mutual UFO Network? You believe you were abducted by aliens?” Diana settled back into her chair, waiting for yet another alien abduction story. It was a common refrain, and she knew by this point the ins and outs, the inner workings of the Company, what was expected of her.

“They’ve taken me many times. The aliens told me I was a prophet,” Cassandra explained. “This has been happening to me for years and years, but I’ve finally decided to stop hiding, to stop lying.” She smiled at Diana. “I want to live my truth, Agent Fowley.”

“I see,” she said. “And what makes you so certain you were abducted by aliens, Ms. Spender?”

Cassandra leaned over, picking up a copy of The Times from her bedside table. She leafed through it to find a page she’d dog-eared and handed it to Diana.

There, in the margin, was a tiny photograph of Fox. It was odd to think of him still out there, still existing in a life that didn’t have her in it. But there he was.

She scanned the article and saw that Fox had been intimately involved in the Skyland Mountain incident she’d been sent to help clean up. One of the abductees, Duane Barry, had died mysteriously after claiming multiple abduction scenarios. Fox was the only person who allegedly believed his story.

Still doing his thing, she smiled inwardly. It was comforting, in a way.

“There are people out there who believe,” Cassandra said. “If this man believed Duane Barry, maybe he’ll believe my story, too.”

Diana smiled, knowing Fox certainly would. And she was beginning to see how he was quickly becoming the “Mulder problem” she’d heard about from the Elders in that meeting a while back.

“I’m sure there are lots of people who will believe you, Cassandra,” Diana smiled.

And even though they’re all correct, they’ll be passed off as crazy just as you will be.

Just as Fox will be.

DIANA FOWLEY’S APARTMENT

DAS WASSERTOR WOHNUNGEN

BAHNHOFSTRAßE 19

BERLIN, GERMANY

SEPTEMBER 1995

Sweaty.

It was her favorite descriptor; her favorite thing about him. He was always sweaty. It evoked passion, restlessness, fervor. And those were the things she missed the most, especially in bed.

Diana turned to look at the man next to her. She didn’t like him very much, but the sex was always incredible. Always fast, always hard, always exactly what she needed. And there was rarely any talking. Almost everything that came out of his mouth was a lie anyway. She knew he didn’t want to lie to her, so she let him use his mouth in other ways.

She was using him, but she was allowing herself to be used as well. Personal relationships, even if she’d desired one, were impossible now. Against the rules. Putting the project at risk for the sake of personal pleasures was not something she was supposed to do. But she had needs, and so did he. They’d decided to break the rules together.

He lay beside her, breathing heavily, exposed. Whenever it was over they usually pulled apart and lay silently side by side, minds drifting to whatever else. Whoever else.

She rarely thought about Fox anymore but for some reason tonight she did. She found herself trying to remember the last time they’d slept together before she left. It had already been so many months since they’d been intimate before then, she hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but now, with almost four years behind her since they’d last been in each other’s arms, she allowed herself to regret.

“Same time tomorrow?” her companion murmured from beside her.

She rolled over and looked at him, sex appeal oozing from his pores just like the sweat she’d put there over the last several minutes.

“I have to travel. Back in a few days,” she said. She reached over and brushed a lock of his hair out of his face. It was usually short but appeared unruly tonight.

“A few days?” He sounded disappointed, as disappointed as he ever sounded. He covered her hand with his and slid it down to his lips, kissing it. She didn’t love him, never would, and she knew he didn’t love her either. But he always treated her well in bed.

“Back next Friday.”

“That’s a long fucking time, Diana,” he said.

“I’m sure you’ll manage.”

He rolled back into the pillow and sighed loudly, rubbing his eyes. She thought of his sweat seeping down into the pillowcase and looked forward to having the scent of a man in her bed when she returned.

“We’ve gone longer,” she pointed out. “And I’m sure I’m not your only option.”

He didn’t say anything. She didn’t really give a shit who he slept with while she was away. All that mattered was that he was here when she wanted him.

“Do you ever wish things were different?” he asked out of the blue. He was still staring up at the ceiling.

“So many things,” she offered. She would not get specific.

“Sometimes I wonder what I’d be doing if I ever escaped all of this.”

His words surprised her; it was so unlike him to speak so openly this way. But Diana wondered, too. She’d become somewhat different over the past few years. Her goal had always been the same, however; changing the world. Doing something important. Discovering, learning, advancing.

She’d never known what his goals were, not really. He probably wouldn’t tell her the truth in any case.

“I don’t want to escape this,” she said carefully. She didn’t want to be in a position where she’d have to reveal him or be revealed to the Elders as some kind of traitor.

He rolled over, half on top of her. “You don’t have to lie to me, Diana. You’re not cut out for this crap. You don’t have the stomach for it.”

She pushed him off her, hands on his chest, hard.

“What do you know about what I’m cut out for? You don’t know a thing about me.”

His eyes narrowed. “I know you’re the best fuck I’ve ever had,” he amended, eyes flashing. She smiled at him in spite of her anger. It didn’t really matter what he thought about her anyway, as long as he thought that.

Maybe it was a lie, but she still liked hearing it.

His cell phone rang and he answered it. A brief conversation ensued and he hung up to look at her.

“Turns out I have to go, too. To the States.”

“For what?”

He gave her a look, the look that meant he was most certainly being sent out on a hit. She turned away.

“One of the Syndicate members. It’s a big one,” he answered.

She looked back, interest piqued. “Who?”

“Does it matter?”

It really didn’t. There were few she knew personally, much less their names.

“I have to go,” he said again. He leaned down over her, kissing her neck, down her body, and she could feel him hardening against her, so soon again. More of his sweat was trickling down onto her skin. It made her insides reawaken.

“One more time then,” she said, as he rose to meet her gaze, brown eyes black with lust beneath long lashes. “And make it count, Alex.”

ANNAPOLIS NATIONAL CEMETERY

SEPTEMBER 1995

Dana Scully was completely numb.

When she’d been abducted, her work had become personal, more personal than she was even aware.

But when her sister had been murdered, the personal entered brand new territory.

Mulder felt this pain acutely, she knew. He’d already lost a family member to this quest and he’d just lost his father.

“I know the truth, Mulder. Now what I want are the answers,” she’d said to him in the hospital.

He’d pulled her close and she’d rested her head against him then, just as she did now, as they stood side by side next to Melissa’s gravesite. She’d become accustomed to this kind of support from him, this kind of comfort.

She’d become accustomed to Mulder taking up every last inch of space in her life.

Yes, it was very personal.

“God, Scully,” he whispered into her ear. “I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry this happened.”

“I know,” she replied. She didn’t want him to be sorry, she knew it wasn’t his fault. It was them. Them. The same ones who’d abducted her, who’d killed her sister. Who'd probably taken Mulder's sister. Who’d made them both an intricate part of this seemingly endless web of conspiracy of which she couldn’t see a way out.

“You almost died too, Mulder,” she said. “You were dead. I can’t believe you’re even standing here.”

“I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for Albert Hosteen,” he said. “He was… my savior, Scully.”

She snaked an arm around his waist, something she didn’t usually do, but it felt natural, like it belonged there. “I’m so thankful you’re alive,” she said softly. He rubbed her back as they stood together silently.

“Take a few more minutes, okay?” he said gently. “I’ll go get the car.”

She nodded, and when he left she felt a bit emptier. Her sister was dead, and so was Mulder’s father, and for what? They hadn’t found any answers, they hadn’t brought anyone to justice. She wondered if they ever would.

After a few more minutes she felt a presence beside her and turned in surprise.

“I am very sorry for your loss,” Albert Hosteen said gently. “It is hard to know why these things must happen. But answers come in time.”

Scully nodded, smiling gently. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “Today, and at the hospital.”

“Of course,” Albert said. “I wanted to be here, but I also wanted to tell you something. Something important.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“A white buffalo calf was born among my people the same time your partner was revived,” he said to her. “This may not mean anything to you, but to my people it is a sign. I believe great change is coming for you both.”

“What kind of change?” Scully asked, confused. "What do you mean?"

Albert looked at her for a moment, as if unsure how to proceed. “When the time comes, you will know,” he finally said. “You’ll know in here.” He brought his index finger above her heart and pointed. Then he smiled and walked away, his departure as mysterious as his arrival.

2630 HEGAL PLACE, APT 42

ALEXANDRIA, VA

APRIL 1997

“Do you remember anything, Mulder?”

He sprawled on his couch and Scully leaned back against him from her position on the floor. He’d been released to her medical supervision after firing six rounds into the wall at the Martha’s Vineyard residence. She’d brought him home and didn’t intend to leave him alone.

“Bits and pieces, I guess… but I don’t remember a whole lot before you came into the house, to be honest.”

Scully turned slightly to look at him. “No, not tonight,” she clarified. “I’m talking about your sister.”

Mulder looked at her. “I’ve told you what I remember.”

Scully wanted to tread carefully. This was a sensitive topic for Mulder, obviously. But she’d long suspected his eagerness to participate in deep regression hypnosis had troubling implications. The more a person was willing to believe, the more they could potentially be led, and she’d feared from the start that this was what may have occurred in this case.

“I know what you’ve told me you remember since your regression, but not from… before.”

Before. The word sounded strange on her tongue. For a moment she reflected back even further in his life and found it hard to imagine, as if any notion of a life before Samantha’s disappearance for Mulder was, for lack of a better word, alien.

“You mean before my memories were manufactured, right? Is that what you’re suggesting, Scully?” He sounded defensive, and she didn’t want to argue. She just wanted a moment of honesty, a moment of disclosure.

“No, Mulder. I’m not suggesting that at all,” she said gently. “I just…I want to know, I want to know more… about you.”

The incident with Eddie Van BlundHt a couple of weeks ago was mostly something she wished they both would forget, for several reasons. But it had stirred up so many feelings inside her about Mulder; primarily the idea that she had thought she knew him, but now realized she didn’t really. Not at all. Not when it came to the personal. And she felt an ache come over her, an ache to know him in a way she never had before.

She caught his eye and hoped her expression mirrored her thoughts, her willingness to listen. She watched his eyes soften as they flickered in color: mossy, chartreuse. Mulder. How did they do that?

“Before the regression I didn’t remember anything,” he said.

This surprised her, as she’d always suspected he’d concocted the alien abduction scenario during his childhood and his regression had only furthered that tale.

“I guess… the shock, the trauma. The terror, even… I must have blocked everything. She was there one minute and then she was just gone.”

Scully let this information settle. It was looking more and more likely Mulder had in fact been led. He’d been led down a path as an adult that ended at an answer that was as irretrievable as his sister.

“My parents never blamed me, ever, but… I blamed myself.” He stared up at the ceiling and she leaned back into the couch, watching him, her cheek settling very close to his thigh. She just listened. “I don’t think they ever knew how much I blamed myself, because we never talked about it. They fought all the time, and I knew it was because of what happened to Samantha. They didn’t have to say it.”

She tried not to think about herself, compare herself to Samantha, but in this moment she couldn’t help it. Mulder was nothing if not a martyr to his cause, and that included the guilt she knew he felt about her own cancer; that due to some horrible twist of fate she’d landed herself with him and received this disease as punishment. She didn’t see it that way, but she suspected Mulder did. And it had all begun when he was twelve and took responsibility for losing his sister.

She couldn’t imagine what that had done to him, to his psyche. To his heart, his mind, and his soul. To everything that made him the man he was right now, in this room, lying here next to her.

“I didn’t know how to deal with that kind of guilt. I was twelve, then thirteen, then fourteen. Life moved on without Samantha and I had to as well. The only way I knew how to deal with any of it was to forget it happened. So I tried that for a long time.” He was still staring at the ceiling. “A long time.”

“Until you decided you wanted to remember?” she asked. He nodded. “What made you decide?”

He hesitated then, as if there were something on his tongue that refused to slip out. Something he was holding back.

“My, uh… my ex convinced me, actually.”

Ex. Huh.

“You mean… Phoebe Green?” she asked.

He sighed. “No. Someone else. After.”

An odd sensation ran throughout her body. A college relationship was one thing. The idea of Mulder maintaining any kind of romantic, adult relationship seemed surprising to her. She felt bad for thinking so, but she did.

He’d revealed more than she’d expected already, and she didn’t want to push, but goddamn, was she curious.

“And the layers keep peeling back,” she said, as playfully as she could, echoing a sentiment he’d directed at her a couple of years earlier. She was eager to know about this ex-girlfriend now, but there was no way to take a detour from the topic at hand. She could only hope it would come up again someday.

“She was a psychologist, and she… thought the regression would be helpful.”

Scully nodded. “And was it? I mean, are you glad now, in retrospect, that you did it?”

Mulder shifted on the couch so he was on his side, looking at her. His arm was tucked underneath a throw pillow and she was so close to him she could smell the dried sweat on his white T shirt. She tried not to think about how good he smelled, how masculine, how much she missed having a man in her life in the kind of way Mulder couldn’t be.

“If it brings me closer to the truth,” he said simply. She had known that would be his answer.

“And… if it pushes you further away from it? What then, Mulder?” She honestly wasn’t trying to be combative. She wanted the truth, too. But she was starting to realize the lengths to which he would go for his truth and they were terrifying.

“I don’t know, Scully,” he sighed, and he wasn’t irritated or upset, just exhausted. He’d had a rough few days, so she couldn’t be the least bit surprised.

Scully wasn’t sold on hypnosis. As a scientist, she felt the method itself was questionable at best, and it had raised plenty of eyebrows in the medical field. She had no idea who this psychologist ex-girlfriend was, or what she knew of Mulder, but Scully felt immediately resentful of her, distrustful. Protective of Mulder. This woman should have known better.

This woman should have known him better.

Scully smiled just then, realizing maybe she knew Mulder better than she thought she did, after all.

The topic finished for now, she wanted to get him to bed, to get him comfortable. “Come on, Mulder, get up. Let’s get you into bed.”

“No,” he said immediately. “I’m fine here, Scully.” She never really understood why he insisted on sleeping on his couch all the time. She worried the man never slept, not really. She didn’t even know if he had a bed, now that she thought about it.

“Well, I can’t leave you alone, Mulder. It’s been court-ordered.”

“It’s fine, okay? You know I’m fine, I know I’m fine. I won’t rat you out. You can go on home, Scully. Thanks for driving me.” He turned over on the couch until his back was to her, and she rolled her eyes, knowing he fully intended on sleeping right there.

“I’ll go, okay? I’m just gonna sit with you for a few more minutes.”

He didn’t answer, and as she watched him shifting to get as comfortable as humanly possible on that couch, with its well-worn Mulder indentation, her hand reached out of its own volition to touch his back. She felt the same heat radiating off his skin as she’d felt in that house, and feeling it once more was an odd comfort. She rubbed his back softly, between his shoulder blades, and the tension she felt began to ebb with every passing second. She heard him sigh, contented, and it was probably one of the best sounds she’d ever heard him make.

After a couple of minutes she knew he was asleep. But she lay down on the carpet next to him, still rubbing his back, until she fell asleep herself.

DIANA FOWLEY’S APARTMENT

DAS WASSERTOR WOHNUNGEN

BAHNHOFSTRAßE 19

BERLIN, GERMANY

MAY 1998

After nearly ten years working for the Company, Diana Fowley had seen her share of shit.

She never lied to herself that she didn’t want to be there; she did. But as the years passed she’d had to turn a blind eye to many, many things. Bad things that she knew were the reason this work had to be protected and kept secret.

Experiments. Assassinations.

Lies.

She’d always been a proponent of the philosophy that the government had a right and responsibility to protect its secrets, and the secrets this group held were similar; proportional to the protection they gave them. By a certain point she wasn’t sure if anything was out of the realm of her capacity to compartmentalize. Sometimes the work was dirty and it still needed to be done. Diana was tough, and she rarely backed down from anything.

She’d made her choice and she never fooled herself about that. It was preferable in her mind to sacrifice the few rather than allow the entire world to perish.

For the good of the project, for the good of the world. A mantra she repeated daily.

Even if she wanted out, she knew it would be beyond difficult. Diana Fowley didn’t have a job she could just quit.

It had taken years, but ever so surely she was beginning to earn the trust she’d sought. The relationships she’d formed with some members of the group were beneficial to moving up from simply an employee of the Company to the upper echelon: the Syndicate.

Particularly the relationship she’d formed with him.

As mysterious and murky as the trail of cigarette smoke that followed him wherever he went, his name was Spender, and that was all she knew of his personal life. She’d been intrigued by him since the day she laid eyes on him in Senator Matheson’s office; the way he commanded a room, the way he never lost face. Even in times of disruption and chaos he kept his cool, and he always seemed to know what to do.

She admired that.

He’d taken her under his wing, brought her into his circle of trust. She still hadn’t ever seen another woman in a meeting with the Elders and was certain she was the highest ranked female in the Company, which pleased her.

She also admired a philosophy Spender had imparted: Don’t become part of someone else’s cause or crusade. Pursue your own self interest, always. Losing herself in this work completely had never been intended or desired and the fact that he was giving her permission to avoid such an outcome was one more thing she admired.

Unfortunately, just as she felt she had been gaining some footing within the hierarchy, Spender had been shot in his apartment. His body hadn’t been found. It had been a year since that happened, and although she held out hope that he’d somehow survived, she felt over the past several months that she’d started over at the bottom yet again.

She lay on her side, restless, staring out the window at the Berlin nighttime sky. She actually loved it here, so far away from everything she’d left back in the States. It made the work somewhat easier knowing everyone she knew and cared for in her life was nowhere around to witness it.

Alex was asleep in bed next to her. After he’d been banished from the Syndicate they hadn’t seen much of each other for some time, but he’d found his way back into their web again. He hadn’t shared the details and she didn’t really want to know.

Alex’s cell phone rang from her nightstand. He rolled over to answer it, and as he did, her own phone rang as well. He eyed her meaningfully and slid off the bed, taking his phone into the other room. She sat up and answered her own phone.

“Agent Fowley, ” the voice said. It was one of the Elders.

“Yes, sir?”

“Your scheduled trip to Tunisia has been changed. We need you back in Washington immediately. There’s been… an incident. ”

Washington. She felt a coiling in her gut and cursed herself inwardly for only just ruminating on her contentment living in Germany.

“Why me, sir?” She rarely questioned orders but this was indeed unusual. And she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she was extremely nervous to be going back home. Back to, presumably, the Hoover Building.

Back to where Fox most certainly was.

“There’s been an assassination attempt, on the life of a young boy who is vital to the Project. The FBI believes the man who was shot was the target; they have no reason to believe otherwise. But we need this boy protected until we can get him back in our custody.”

“What can I do?” she asked.

"We’re putting you on the task force. Just keep him safe and await further instructions. A car will arrive for you in an hour.”

The man hung up and she sighed. She had no idea how long she’d be gone this time, she never did. As she slipped out of bed naked and headed to the bathroom, Alex rounded the corner, hanging up.

“I have to go,” he said.

“Me too,” she replied. He started pulling his clothes on and she watched him. “Where are they sending you?”

“Canada,” he said. He pulled on his jeans and caught her eye as he buckled his belt. Simple tasks were more difficult for him since he’d lost his arm, and she briefly considered helping him dress but he looked away. She turned to go into the bathroom and then heard his voice again.

“Diana.” She turned back around. “Smoking man’s alive.”

She stared at him, amazed. “He’s alive?” she asked. “How did they track him down?”

Alex shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to ask him, won’t I?”

He pulled his T-shirt over his head, which was a bit of a task, and grabbed his jacket, walking up to her. He traced a finger from her temple down her neck, all the way down her naked body until his fingers rested on her hip. He only had one functioning hand but with it he could sure work wonders.

She had to ask. “Alex…” she was unsure of how exactly to phrase the question. “Do you think it’s possible one of ours actually tried to murder a child?”

He looked at her half-lidded and squeezed hard, gripping the flesh of her hip, and pulled her against him. “I told you you didn’t have the stomach for this work.”

She closed her eyes, knowing the truth. But there was another truth; that she’d allowed herself to drift far from the person she knew she used to be.

She wanted nothing more than to make him stay just a few more minutes, tear his clothes off again and let him make her forget what she’d become.

But she didn’t. And he didn’t.

He went to Canada. And she got into the shower and washed him off her, thinking instead of the possibility of seeing the fox again.

#txf #the x files #diana fowley #fanfic #fanfiction #msr

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itsbuckysworld · 5 years ago

Text

Late Night Bangers

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Guest Appearance: None. World: AU Genre: Fluff. Neighbours AU Warnings: none really. Buck can be considered a jerk if you’re easily annoyed with annoying neighbours then, there’s that. Word Count: 2.9K

Summary: Your cute neighbour keeps blasting music in the worst of times. It’s great music, but annoying nonetheless.

Prompt: It’s 3 AM and you’re blasting off classic rock at full volume and your music taste might be awesome but soME PEOPLE are trying to sLEEP - for @sebashtiansatan‘s writing challenge. Thanks Elif for hosting this and sorry for the tardiness I hope you enjoy this one I quite liked writing it!

Smooches! xoxo L

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Song List:

Burnin’ For You - Blue Öyster Cult

Space Station #5 - Montrose

I Wanna Be With You - The Raspberries

Rock Bottom - UFO

This Time - UFO

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Time everlasting Time to play b-sides Time ain't on my side Time I'll never know

You find yourself kicking and punching the sheets off your body angrily, they keep tangling around your shins. Huffing and puffing as you wrap your night robe around you and brush your hair from your face, you look at the clock by your bedside table. 3:12AM

Un-fucking-believable.

The guitar solo is just beginning when you find yourself stomping down the hall to the other person who lives in your floor. Your fists bang against their white door, almost knocking the 6 on the apartment sign.

The chorus fades a little as your neighbour lowers the volume after what you assume is them realising there’s someone at the door. Soon the door is being pulled open. You come face to face with your neighbour’s piercing blue eyes and disheveled brown hair, almost black against the red-ish lights he has going on the living room and he leaned casually against the doorframe.

You hadn’t really met your neighbour before. You shared smiles and waves when he first moved in, and if you were correct his name was James Barnes or something, at least that’s what you saw when one of his letters was delivered to you by mistake. He came and went whenever, often times you wouldn’t see him for days, but his nonchalant demeanor never made you worry. He seemed like the type to just go about his life without interacting much with people and by the look of his apartment over his shoulder, he probably didn’t spend much time there, or didn’t care for having his place all tidy and worthy of an interior decor magazine cover.

Your eyes ran him over. His boots had little metal accents that went with his many bracelets and tatted left arm. He looked tired but maybe that was part of the look, and it made his blue irises pop, as if they were alight, shining over you. Messy hair, ends kissing the nape of his neck. The deep V-neck shirt so casual and contrasting against the black ripped jeans and dark accents of his tattoos. The red outline that the lights in the back cast around him made him look…

You shook your head rid of thoughts of him and his appearance when you noticed his eyebrow lift in confusion at your staring.

“Uh, hi,” you stammered before clearing your throat and putting your best ‘dealing with annoying neighbours’ face. You know, the one that is kind yet authoritative, definitely a little mean, but soft. “So, Blue Öyster Cult, great band” his eyebrows lifted in surprise at your sentence and you forced out a casual giggle, a cover up for the grin you could feel creeping up at the sight of his half smirk. “It’s just… you know, 3:00AM? Would it be too much to ask you to, maybe, tone it down?”

At this, he turns his head back and stands up straight. “Oh” is his only response, as if he hadn’t noticed the time. “Sorry, sure thing… Bucky, by the way” he introduces himself cheekily and all you can do is nod your head, worried your voice won’t come out.

“Y/N” you chirp.

His smile is apologetic and kind as he points behind himself as if saying ‘I’ll do that now’ and it almost leaves you breathless. He looks so tough and rough, like the cool biker guys in movies, like he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks about him and he isn’t afraid to break the rules and get in trouble – all kinds of good, fun, naughty, tongue in cheek trouble – and charm his way out of it. The last thing you’d pair him with is that kind and warm of a smile, and it takes your brain for a spin. His hands rest on the door, motioning that he’s going to close it soon, but you just have to interject.

“Cool” you sway on the balls of your feet for a few seconds, before saying goodnight and rushing back to your apartment.

As you lay in bed you hear the very distant beginning of Don’t Fear The Reaper, but before you can groan, it fades and you can finally rest, not before images of your Bucky flash across your mind. Now that’s a way to meet your neighbour.

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Oh, what a time we had Livin' underground I move to station number five See you next time around

You slam your book closed, the force of the bang sending your pens tumbling to the ground. There’s a strangled scream in your throat as you clench your fists to your sides and stand up.

This fucking–

You catch yourself mid sentence, annoyed beyond repair. Is he for real? For a moment you wished he lived under you so you could stomp out your anger right on the spot, instead of having to slip on some sandals and shuffle across the hall like a headless woman on a mission.

You knock on his door, so damn hard your fist throbs and you can feel your heartbeat in your hand – definitely faster than the Montrose song playing, and probably louder, whatever to knock some sense into him. Barnes, as you have turned to call him in your head since the last time you so gleefully interacted, is clad in a tank top, and his blue jeans that hang way too low on his hips to not give you chills, have grease stains all over – is he going for some type of troubled rocker from the 70’s aesthetic? Because he’s really giving it his all… and it suits him goddamn – his hair is pushed back from his eyes, a lone strand curls over his forehead and rests almost on the tip of his long eyelashes. His breathing is jagged and you picture him dancing to the tune, if anything to keep your brain from picturing any other… Reasons for his panting.

The door isn’t fully opened yet by the time you’re leaning a little to the left and catching his eyes.

“Hi Barnes!” the overly chipper and very annoyed greeting comes almost out of gritted teeth. “Montrose yeah? Very underrated band, real good sound –”

“They definitely don’t get the credit they deserve –”

“It’s eleven pm on a Thursday though, and some of us have assignments to power through? So it’d be really, really helpful if you could just… Kick it down a notch?– or two.”

His eyes do you once over, then one more time, a slight smirk appearing on his face, much like the one he gave you that night at 3:00AM. Does he always smirk this way? And since when is it hot that he does so?

“Sure thing, smooth legs”

His door is slammed to your face before you can react to the nickname, and you’re left in front of his apartment, mouth agape and hand frozen mid air, dismayed. The song fades down as he lowers the volume behind his entryway. You can’t run any faster back into your humble abode, resting your forehead against your door when it’s closed. Your cheeks are red in your reflection in the mirror, and you’re suddenly hyper aware of your pajama shorts.

There’s not much progress made to your assignment, as you decide to just dive into bed and will yourself to sleep.

↤↤↤↤↤ ↦↦↦↦↦

Well tonight (tonight) The night (the night) We always knew it would feel so right So come on baby, I just want to be with you

The TV won’t go any louder, and neither do you want to be that neighbour. Funny. If only a certain someone would think the same way as you. You sigh in exasperation. Is it ever going to end?

It isn’t even very late, you’re aware of that, but watching this documentary is too important for your class and Barnes blasting Raspberries isn’t really going to help. Although truth be told, it was one of your favourite songs by them, so you weren’t that mad. Still, this couldn’t be happening again.

You stop short in front of his door when you notice something different in the familiar tune. It doesn’t take you long to realise it’s him. It’s Bucky singing at the top of his lungs.

‘Baby oh, I want to be with you. So baaaad, I want to be with you.’

You can’t help but smile and giggle at the realization. He’s so off tune, but he sounds like he’s having a blast, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t want to sing along. It was the power of that song, there was no way you could just not jam out to it. This time around your knocks are firm, but not as angry as previous instances. Bucky opens the door and you almost die of laughter at the sight, covering your huge grin with your hand once more.

His hair is pulled back in a bun, however tiny since it’s not long enough, and he’s donned a bright blue apron that just ties the whole ripped jeans, dark tattoos and combat boots look together. He’s still holding onto the spoon when he gives you a wide grin.

“Hey there sweet cheeks!” you clear your throat, trying to put on your best mean face, except the whole combination of factors – Bucky looking adorable and this song being too damn catchy – made it impossible.

“Ok so, this is probably my favourite Raspberries song so I’m going to let it slide– just this once! –” you add quickly with a raise of your hand as you see his face light up. This didn’t mean he had permission to blast your ears off, no siree. “But after that, I really have to focus on this documentary for my class so, if you could please?”

“Say no more!” He rushes back into his house, leaving you right outside his entrance, you can still see him as he reaches over to the radio and turns up the volume, using his huge spoon as a microphone as he sings along and shakes his hips to the tune. Your head falls back in laughter at the sight, hands coming up to decline his offer to join him. He continues to shake his shoulders your way as he returns back to the door frame, and you roll your eyes faking annoyance. You sway your hips to the beat of the song on your way back to your apartment and you can hear him holler and edge you on before closing the door behind you.

Another quick glimpse to the mirror by your entrance way and the red cheeks are there again, this time accompanied by a huge grin. You can’t help but hide your face in your hands before skipping to the couch and letting your body fall on it.

When the song’s over, Bucky keeps his promise and you resume your documentary with peace and quiet.

↤↤↤↤↤ ↦↦↦↦↦

Now you look so peaceful, lyin' there asleep With the wings of God above you Before the spirits meet Rock bottom, rock bottom, rock bottom

You’re going to murder him. You let him play one song and he takes advantage of the whole damn thing. Whatever nice moment was shared, definitely gone down the drain. Lasted a week. The bastard.

“Barnes!” you yell, slamming your hand on his door. He had to go back to disturbing your sleep, hadn’t he? Bloody 2:30AM and you’ve got your ultimatum on the tip of your tongue. Next time you’re calling the cops on his rock-punk ass.

“Hey” he says, nonchalant, like he doesn’t know what he’s doing, except the smirk, the god forsaken smirk, on his face screams he enjoys pushing your buttons this way.

“I get it! UFO is finally on spotify. Yay the hype, but for fuck’s sake–” “Wait, you know UFO?” he interrupts you, and it both shocks you and makes your blood boil that out of everything, he’s more interested in the fact that you know the band? They weren’t that obscure, your dad loved them and – NOT THE POINT.

“Yes” you say matter-of-factly “Misdemeanor is probably their best album– Now that doesn’t mean you can go about blasting it at two in the morning!” your arms are raised above your head and you hate that you’re getting so heated but it’s all his fault. Him and his bright eyes that look at you a little surprised, a little confused, and his great music taste that disturbed you more often than not. You point an accusatory finger at him “I’m free tomorrow but I swear to god, that does not mean I want to go to sleep at freaking 4AM because of you! I don’t want to call the cops on you Barnes, I don’t. But I’m real tired of this. Please, keep it down”

And you don’t let him say anything else or reply to your threat. He hears your feet stomping back and the slam of your door, and that’s all he gets from you after that scolding.

You settle into your pillow as the guitar solo fades in the distance, hopefully proof that he’s going to heed your words and keep his noise to a minimum. At least for a while.

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There’s an unexpected knock to your door the following day. It’s a lazy afternoon, free from work or class, and all for you to catch up on some movies. You place down the bowl of popcorn and groan – you didn’t really want to move from your couch today.

Opening the door there’s no disguising the shock that paints your features. For a moment you wonder if your movie was too loud because that’d be ironic and quite possibly the only reason you could think of as to why Bucky Barnes is at your door. Bucky Barnes and his typical black boots, ripped jeans and band t-shirt. The leather jacket over his shoulders gives him a little extra charm, and you’re reminded in a nano-second that he’s probably the most annoying neighbour you’ve had, and his very good looks don’t exempt him of all the noise complaints you could have filled out since he’s moved in.

“Hey” his voice is soft and calm, almost apologetic, as if he knows he’s interrupted your day once more, this time not with his loud music.

“Hi?”

Suddenly there’s two slips of paper in front of your face. UFO Live in Concert, you read, and are immediately left in confusion. Bucky blinks, long lashes kissing the apples of his cheeks and he clears his throat.

“They’re playing this very underground gig at a small venue downtown… Tonight. I know the guy who manages it” There’s a sway to his frame and you realise he’s nervously dancing on the balls of his feet and his cheeks are rosy in the freezing AC of the hallway. “Do you maybe… want to?”

“Go to the show?” Bucky nods, like an excited child, and it’s adorable to say the least, that bastard. “Together?”

“Yeah I- uhm...” another clear of his throat and he’s taking a step back, as if he’s assumed he’s stepped over some line. “You like them too, and you said you were free so, I thought… We could go and you can… You can tell me more about how you knew of an album by them I didn’t even know existed”

You almost fall to your knees, but not because of any romantic movie swoon moment or anything like that, but because all of the strength in your body is suddenly being directed towards trying to keep a silly grin off your face. Ok, maybe a swooning moment then. You reach out and grab one ticket from his hand, your fingertips grazing his slowly and causing your cheeks to feel warm.

“If I go, will you promise to keep your music down?”

“Will try my best. Or... Maybe I don’t have to blast it if you just… Come over and listen with me?” There’s that smirk of his again, whatever nerves he was showing before have seemed to completely dissipate, giving way to his charming dorky self. Gosh, you hate him, and you hate that he makes you laugh with that face he pulls.

“Hmm, we’ll see” you give him a coy grin and walk away, leaving him at the doorstep, hopeful and confused, as you venture deep into your apartment and over to where your stereo sits. Your fingers delicately run over your music collection. “What are you waiting for?” you look over your shoulder back at him, signalling him to come in with your head “If we’re going to this, I have to get ready and you –” you point at him with the vinyl in hand, before swiftly turning around and letting it drop on the record player – “have to listen to Misdemeanor”

Bucky lets out a chuckle, his nervous hands fix his leather jacket before sinking them deep into his pockets. He lets himself in and closes the door as the first few notes of the first song play out. He takes in the guitar riff, the drums, the synths, everything making him want to tap his foot. He reads over the song list on the vinyl cover with a wide smirk on his face, his eyes sneakily looking up, teeth poking out to bite his lip as he looks you up and down, he catches a glimpse of you swaying into your room to the beat of the song before you close your door slightly, and Bucky can already tell this is going to be his favourite album by UFO as well.

This time, let it be me I'll be the one that you can see This time I'll be your man I'm right here baby, here in your hand.

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hope you enjoyed this I had fun imagining this and tried my best to write something decent. Give the songs in this piece a listen they are so good!

FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED! HERES MY ASK, HERE’S MY MASTERLIST

Have a wonderful day! Stay safe!

Smooches, L xo <3

#elifs2kwritingchallenge #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes AU #rocker!AU #Neighbour!AU #Bucky Barnes #my writing #Bucky Barnes fluff #meet cute #late night bangers #writing challenges I've participated in #sebashtiansatan

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