#elevator hitch jim

[paranormal-hitch]

Compared to the previous investigator, this peculiar one was more fond of ghosts. He had an eager aura to him, smiling quite like an idiot as he looked around, boasting about his feats to lure out a particularly strong ghost.

“Hark, spirits! Mine name is Valefar, and I am here to seek proof that beings such as thee do exist, and if I be correct, to engage in combat with one of thy kind!”

He's asking to be humiliated and humbled...

( @polaroid-angel )

>[Smoke began to fill the room as a ghostly humanoid emerged from the darkness. The ghost was just minding his own business until he spotted Valefar from afar, to which he was inclined to approach.]

["How strange. We've been getting many visitors lately."]

[h3ll0-my-n3me-is]

hello!! I’m the person who drew you on paper!

I’m so happy rn I just won a big event

[ CONGRATULATIONS THAT IS AWESOME SAUCE ENGEL !! ] [ GOOD JOB BUDDY !! ]

[help-with-elevator-advice]

Ooc: doodles!

[spinsterlocity-writes]

High-Jinx, Part IV

Characters - Leonard McCoy x Female Reader

Summary - You have your first date with Leonard and things get heated.

Word Count - 2,551

Warnings - Smut (if you’re under 18 kindly move along), cussing, drinking

Disclaimer- I don’t own Leonard McCoy or Star Trek, I just write for fun.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

A/N: We’ve come to end of this mini series. Thanks so much for reading it, it was a lot of fun to write.

Part I Part II Part III

“‘Lo,” you mumbled, flopping over in bed.

“Hello, Lieutenant,” Leonard answered, vaguely amused.

“Leonard, hi!” You sat up and leaned against the headboard. Your voice sounded shrill to you and your heart was pounding. You felt like you were yelling. Were you yelling?

“I’m doing as you asked. I remember everything we said last night and I would still very much like to take you out on a date.”

“Oh,” you breathed, smiling like an idiot.

“Well, don’t leave me in suspense, Lieutenant.” You could tell he was smiling, the smug cute-ass bastard.

“You haven’t asked me a question yet, Dr. McCoy,” you grinned to yourself.

“I swear, woman,” he scoffed. “Lieutenant Y/L/N, would you do the honor of joining me for dinner tonight?”

“I’d love to.”

“Great, how does 19:00 sound?”

“It sounds perfect,” you beamed.

“Great, I’ll pick you up then.”

“I look forward to it,” you smiled and picked an imaginary piece of lint off of the duvet.

“Bye, Y/N,” Leonard whispered.

“Bye,” you whispered back.

You ended the call, slumped back on the bed and wiggled around in excitement.

You spent the afternoon getting scrubbed, pampered, and beautified in the hotel’s spa. You patted yourself on the back for having the good sense to treat yourself to a spa package when you learned where this shore leave was going to be. After your time at the spa you bought a nice lunch and spent the rest of the day in your room listening to relaxing music and trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach.

Leonard arrived quite predictably at 19:00 on the dot. You hoped he didn’t hear your breath hitch when you opened the door and saw him standing there in a nicely cut suit, no tie, and dress shirt with the top buttons undone.

“Wow, you look beautiful,” he said with a smile.

You looked down shyly and fiddled with the clasp on your bag.

“Thank you, so do you. I mean...you look very handsome,” you cursed your nervousness as you jolted inside and felt your body heat up.

You locked your door and you and Leonard made your way to the elevator. Your tummy fluttered when he placed his hand on the small of your back.

“So, are we headed to the hotel restaurant?” you asked as the elevator doors opened.

“No, a little restaurant two blocks away. Are you okay to walk there?” he asked, looking down at your feet.

“That’s sweet of you to ask but I can manage a couple of blocks,” you chuckled.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he nodded.

“You really are a gentleman, Leonard McCoy,” you bumped him with your shoulder.

He scoffed and rubbed the back of his neck.

You enjoyed the slightly warm yet breezy evening on the short walk to the restaurant. Your hands occasionally brushed each other and you’d laugh nervously. You hooked your arm through Leonard’s in a moment of bravery to spare yourselves more awkwardness. Just as he mentioned, the restaurant was exactly two blocks from the hotel and was an adorable bistro.

This was shaping up to be one of the best dates you’d ever been on. After you got over your initial butterflies the conversation flowed seamlessly. You and Leonard traded stories about your childhoods, time in Starfleet, and shenanigans of Jim’s that you got dragged into. The menu even had some of your favorite dishes. You also learned that Leonard was devastatingly handsome in candlelight.

After dessert and coffee you left the restaurant, this time hand in hand. You walked a little slower, trying to prolong the evening. At a stop light, a block away from the hotel, Leonard spun you into him and looked at you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, breathless and full of want. You nodded.

“Need to hear you, darlin’,” he caressed your cheek.

“Yes, please,” you replied softly.

Leonard’s hand moved to the back of your neck as he kissed you deep and slow. Time seemed to stop and life around you faded to a gentle hum when his tongue gently dipped into your mouth. Sound flooded back sharply as he pulled away. You looked at him with wonder and he smiled. He took your hand in his and led you across the street as the signal to walk blinked. It took a moment for reality to sink in and for your legs to work properly.

“Would you like to come up to my room for a drink?” Leonard asked as you entered the hotel.

“I’d love to,” you smiled and gave his hand a little squeeze.

Inside the elevator you leaned a little into Leonard’s side and he wrapped an arm around you.

“Thank you for this, Leonard. It was lovely.”

“The night’s not over yet but you’re welcome.” His arm ever so slightly tightened around you.

When you got to Leonard’s room he told you to make yourself comfortable. You kicked off your shoes, plopped down on the sofa, and curled your feet up near your bottom as Leonard took off his suit jacket and draped it over the back of a chair.

“Let’s see, we have water, wine, whiskey, and juice. What’s your poison?” he asked, rolling his shirt sleeves to his elbows.

“Whiskey on the rocks, please,” you replied with a smile.

“Woman after my own heart,” he smiled.

Leonard handed you your drink, picked up the remote to the entertainment center and chose a music station. Soft instrumental music filled the air. It was pleasant but not enough to be distracting.

“This alright?”

“It’s perfect.” You took a sip of your drink and tilted your head in appreciation of the smooth taste.

He sat down, turned to you and said, “You know, I’d been wanting to ask you out for a while now.”

“Really?! Why didn’t you?”

“I thought I might be too dull or cranky for you,” he shrugged and took a sip of his drink.

“In what universe are you dull, Leonard? It’s impossible to be friends with the people we’re friends with and be dull,” you shifted a little closer to him. “As for cranky, I’d be cranky too if I had to patch Jim up as often as you do.”

“Well, I guess you got me there,” he chuckled.

You continued to sip your drinks and talk. At some point your legs ended up in his lap and he stroked one absentmindedly as he talked. Suddenly, it was quiet and you looked at each other, small smiles on your faces.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asked softly.

“Yes, please,” you sighed.

Leonard held your face in his hands and looked at you for a moment. His thumbs caressed your cheeks. He kissed you softly and you placed your hands on his wrists. He deepened the kiss, his tongue caressing yours and you moaned softly. He laid you back against the arm of the couch and kissed your neck. You gasped and bucked your hips up when his lips brushed your pulse point.

He chuckled and whispered, “I wonder what other spots drive you crazy.” He nibbled your ear and you whimpered. He dipped his tongue into your ear and you squealed and rolled your hips into his.

“That’s two,” he growled as his hands traced your curves.

“Are you going to count all of them?” you panted.

He pulled back and stared down at you.

“Honey, I plan to not only count but memorize all the things that drive you crazy.”

“Oh god,” you whimpered.

He switched to the other side of your neck and sucked on your pulse point. Your hips rolled again, “Leonard, please,” you whined.

“Tell me what you need, darlin’,” he whispered.

“Please touch me,” you sighed and rubbed your lower half against his, feeling him harden underneath you.

“Oh honey, you’re soaked,” Leonard groaned as one of his fingers parted your slit and caressed your folds.

You whined and squirmed under his touch. He circled your clit and you arched your back.

“Mmm, I think that’s three.”

You bucked your hips up as his finger slid over your sex, the tightness in your lower abdomen close to snapping.

“Please, Leonard, please let me come!”

He circled your clit faster and you moaned.

“Come on honey, let go for me,”

Leonard added a little more pressure and you keened, clenching around nothing.

“There you go,” he whispered with a smile.

You flung your arm over your eyes as you caught your breath.

“You alright, darlin’? Because I’m nowhere near done with you.”

You moved your arm from your eyes, “Well then, I think we better take this somewhere more comfortable.”

He stood up, offered you his hand and smirked, “Good idea.”

Leonard had you undressed and on his bed in what felt like record time. He kissed the hollow of your throat, you sighed and ran your fingers through his hair. He kissed down your chest and took your nipple into his mouth and sucked. You moaned his name as he rolled your other nipple between his fingers.

“Four,” he chuckled as he kissed down your stomach.

You laughed and rolled your eyes.

“Need to taste you, sweetheart,” he kissed your inner thigh.

“Please,” you panted.

He parted you with his thumbs.

“Will you look at that, so pretty,” he placed a soft kiss on your clit. He placed his hands under your ass and held you in place as his tongue explored your pussy.

“You taste so fucking good,” he murmured and began fucking you with his tongue.

You felt tension in your belly and you sobbed his name. One of your hands gripped the sheets, the other reached down and grabbed his hair as you came against his mouth.

Leonard kissed his way back up your body as you came back to your senses. He caressed your cheek and gave you a soft kiss. You started to move down the bed to return the favor.

“No, no. Another time, I need to be inside you. Do you have a condom?”

“We don’t need one. I’m on birth control and I’m clean, unless you’d rather use one.

“No, I’m clean,” he kissed your cheek. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes. Leonard, please fuck me. “

He took his cock in his hand and positioned himself at your entrance. You sighed as he pushed inside of you.

“You feel so good,” he gasped as he let you adjust to him.

“Please move, Leonard!” You whined and rolled your hips.

“God, darlin’, you’re so tight around me. Feels so good,” he growled.

Leonard kissed you deeply and began to thrust into you slowly. You wrapped your arms around him and met his thrusts.

“Faster, please,” you whispered.

He picked up the pace and moaned into your neck. “You feel so fucking good. You like this, honey?”

“Yes, Leonard, please! You feel so good!”

He switched up his angle and rolled his hips, hitting your sweet spot. You cried out as you braced a hand against the headboard.

“Is that it, honey? Is that the spot?” he smirked.

“Yes, god! Don’t stop,” you whined.

He rolled his hips harder and kissed your neck. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your toes began to curl.

“Come for me sweetheart. Need you to come for me honey,” he grunted.

You wailed, your vision whiting out as you came undone.

“There you go. That’s it, darlin,” Leonard cooed.

As you floated back to earth, you heard him whimper. He placed his hands on either side of your head and quickened his thrusts.

“Oh god, I’m gonna come,” he moaned.

“Come for me, Leonard. Let go,” you whispered and kissed his neck.

He went rigid and howled into your neck as he filled you up. He slumped half on you and half on the bed. You stroked his back and his hair as he caught his breath. He rolled over on his side and smiled at you.

“Hi,” he sighed.

“Hi yourself,” you laughed and kissed him. You cuddled for a couple of minutes and then took turns cleaning up in the bathroom. You were asleep almost as soon as he wrapped his arms around you.

You woke up alone, slightly sore, and stretched your aching body. You rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom to freshen up. You grabbed a plush hotel robe hanging on the door that wasn’t there the night before. You smiled when you saw it was in your size. You figured Leonard must have called the front desk for it while you slept. You found him on the couch reading in the living room. You flopped down and rested your head on his shoulder. He chuckled and kissed your head.

“You sleep okay?” he asked as he wrapped his arm around you. You nodded.

“Someone’s not a morning person,” he joked.

“Not until I’ve had caffeine,” you mumbled.

“Breakfast should be here any minute, don’t you worry.”

“Thank you,” you leaned up and pecked his lips.

Leonard put his hand around the back of your neck as you tried to pull away and kissed you deeply. He pulled back and brushed his nose against yours.

“Good morning,” he whispered.

“Morning,” you smiled.

He was about to kiss you again when there was a knock at the door. He sighed and lightly pecked your lips, “That’ll be breakfast.”

He pulled away, got up from the couch and answered the door. Jim pushed past him, animatedly asking if Leonard had seen you because he and Sulu were going to do something later that you were going to love. Leonard tried to stop him from moving further into the room.

“Bones, stop pushing me, what’s wrong with...OH HO HO!” Jim laughed as he saw you sitting on the couch. “Well, I guess you’ve seen quite a bit of her. Hello, Y/N,” he waggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes and gave him a lazy wave.

Leonard sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Jim, get the hell out of here!”

“Well, now I know why you didn’t call me back last night, you sly dog! Y/N I want all the details later,” Jim winked.

You shook your head and laughed, “Jim, get out of here before Leonard kills you.”

“Alright, I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” he chuckled. As he opened the door to leave, a waiter stood poised to knock on the door.

“Ooh room service! You’re going all out, Bones,” Jim teased as he left.

“Goodbye, Jim,” you yelled.

“Sorry about that, if you could put everything on the table that’d be great,” Leonard said to the waiter.

After everything was situated and the waiter left, you sat down and started eating.

“You know everyone in Starfleet staying in this hotel is going to know about us by dinner time,” you laughed.

“I don’t give a damn who knows if you go out with me again,” Leonard took your hand in his.

You pretended to think about it, “I think I can do that,” you smiled.

“Oh, you’re trouble,” he laughed and kissed your hand.

[turntechgoddesshead]

Promise

Hey guys! Remember me? I was the rando that said i was gonna write Sally Face fanfic, wrote one headcanons post and yeeted off the internet for a couple days. Well, i’m back and I did indeed write a thing. This is the beginning of a series, if ya’ll like it that is. I don’t know if this will end up as Larry x Reader or Sal x Reader but hell, i guess we’ll see. Anyways, here ya go!

Also feel free to hit me up for Headcanons, they’re fun warm ups. 

Words: 1624

TW: Mention of animal death, Parents leaving, and Juvy.

Y/n Is a girl and uses she/her pronouns, has freckles and glasses. Sorry haha, i have a hard time not writing in those features bc this did indeed start off as a shameless self insert. Y/N also has two dads bc happy pride month. 

~~~~~~

A tiny cry echoed through the hallways of the labor ward, as a new life had blossomed just merely a few moments ago. Her fathers welcomed her into their lives with open arms and tears shedding from their eyes, as they drank in ever tiny inch of her brand-new body. She was absolutely perfect to them, and everything that they had worked so hard for. Her tiny hand gripped tightly onto the finger of the man who held her, her small green eyes cried tears of confusion as the second man beside her smiled and placed a gentle hand onto the top of her tiny head of H/C hair.

               “She’s so beautiful,” The first man spoke to the other, failing to contain his tears. The nurses watched in silent anticipation as the two finally introduced themselves to the newest member of their family. The woman who sat in the bed, smiled happily watching the two interact with the baby which she had carried inside her for nine months. She was finally meeting the family she forever deserved to be apart of, and the family which she had so graciously chosen to give her baby up to. After passing the baby girl off to the nurses, the two men embraced the woman into a teary hug, thanking her for all of her kindness.

               “Thank you so much, for our little Y/N Moore.”

               Days turned into weeks, which casually turned into months, leading to the sudden and unexpected change that occurs within the years of growing up. Five years into her young life, little Y/N and her fathers moved into their own little slice of heaven, room 402 of the Addison apartments in Nockfell.  They happily lived along with the other residents, making friends with the Johnson family which resided in the basement below. Larry Johnson was the only child of his parents, Lisa and Jim, who was just excited to have another child his age in the complex. The two children eventually became inseparable, always in one room or the other inevitably getting into whatever trouble children at the age of five or six get into. Y/N eventually grew into a worrisome little girl, always anxious over whether or not the duo would get away with their latest antics while Larry easily concocted them in that little brain of his. Three years Into the Moore’s and Johnsons friendship Young Y/N and Larry played outside excitedly with a handful of firecrackers which Mrs. Lisa had brought home. Y/N expressed to the young boy how anxious she was about playing with something which her fathers would inevitably be angry about, but eventually calmed down and began to play after her best friend convinced her it would be alright.

               “Larry, be sure to aim it away from the building!” She told him in between her high-pitched giggles. Snow outside fell from the sky and landed delicately into her hair, just to melt moments after.

               “I don’t think you can aim them He-" Before the boy could finish his sentence, the firecracker went off, flying towards the building and into an open window, before exploding into a flurry of pops and whistles. The sudden silence after the firecracker ceased lasted for only a moment as a sudden screech emitted from Mrs. Gibson, the old woman who resided within the apartment. All color drained from the freckled face of the little girl as she gazed up at the window in horror, listening to the screams of terror and anger that omitted from just a few floors above her.

               “L-Larry,” Larry had cut Y/N off before she could even form words. He gripped her wrist tightly, pulling her out of the sight of the window. Hurriedly he tugged her along to the side of the building so neither of them could be seen, glancing around the corner once for caution, before turning his attention to his friend. Y/N’s face had grown ghost-like as fat tears began to form in her eyes and roll down the center of her cheek.

               “Larry, did we hurt her?” She cried, putting her face into her hands. Her sobs turned into hiccups as she constantly attempted to wipe the water off her face. The pressure of her best friends hands gripping tightly onto her shoulders, suddenly pulled her out of her panicked state. She looked up at Larry who seemed as cool as possible, his eyes were sharp as he looked down at her with determination.

               “No Y/N, we didn’t,” He told her, nodding his head, “You were up in the treehouse by yourself, I asked you to play, and you were angry at me remember?”

               Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as she realized the weight of the situation, “No, Larry, I can’t leave you by yourself!”

               Larry shook his head.

               “Go sit in the treehouse, and count to a thousand. Once you do, climb down, and go straight home. When your dad asks you what you did, you say you played in the treehouse by yourself,” He ordered her, as though he hadn’t been coming up with this plan on the spot.

               “It’s not going to work!” Y/N continued to sob.

               “Yes, it is! Tell them you were mad because I nocked your glasses off with a snowball! But you didn’t play with me today, promise me you’ll do what I say!” Larry shook her shoulders slightly in desperation, before the girl eventually nodded to him.

               “Good,” Larry sighed, releasing the grip he had on her shoulders. He watched as his best friend turned on her heal and began to run towards the tree house.

               Y/N didn’t hear from Larry for two weeks after that. Her parents kept her at arm’s reach for what felt like an eternity, as she constantly wondered what her friend was up to. Every day she would ask permission to make her way down to the basement to see her friend, and every day she was denied. Weeks turned into months, as her parents protective grip seemed to loosen ever so slightly, reluctantly allowing her to wander the complex on her own after a plethora of begging on the young girls part.  She sauntered through the hallway, her eyes glued to the stained hardwood floor as she walked mindlessly, wondering about her friend who she knew was just five floors below. It wasn’t until the little girl had bumped mindlessly into another person that she was snatched from her anxiety inducing thoughts.

               “Oh, I’m sorry,” She spoke meekly, fixing the round glasses that sat delicately on her nose. Upon looking up, Y/N immediately recognized the woman with long brunette hair and much more empty than usual eyes.

               “Mrs. Lisa!” Y/N replied, her emotions suddenly too much for her small body to handle, “Is Larry here?”

               Lisa looked down at little Y/N almost painfully, her eyes bore dark circles under them, and she held the mop in her hand tightly, “Larry is down in the basement right now Y/N,” She replied calmly.

               Sheepishly, Y/N let out a small, “Oh,” and stared down at her feet as she rocked back and forth anxiously.

               Lisa smiled just a little bit at the little girl and pulled a small card out of the back of her pocket, “Tell you what though, why don’t you just go visit him now?”

               Excitedly, Y/N snatched the card from Lisa’s hand and hugged her with all her strength, excited at the opportunity to see her best friend once again, “Thank you Mrs. Lisa! You’re the best!”

               In a hurry she quickly ran towards the elevator and stuck the keycard in, which allowed her access to the basement. It took her only a moment to get to the apartment that was underground, but when she did, she eagerly ran to the door. Not even bothering to nock, the little girl opened the door and ran straight for the room where she knew Larry was. She opened the door to his room, noticing him laying on his bed with his hands behind his head and bulky headphones covering his ears as his foot tapped ever so lightly.

               “Larry!” She cried excitedly, jumping on top of the poor unexpecting boy, “I’ve missed you so much!”

               Larry scrambled to take his headphones off and toss his Walkman to the side, “Y/N?! Where have you been?”

               “Where have you been?!” She replied to his question, crushing him in the largest hug all while attempting to hold back her cries.

               Larry grew silent, looking down at his hands before looking at Y/N in embarrassment, “The firecracker killed Mrs. Gibsons pet rabbit.”

               Y/N let out a gasp and covered her mouth.

               “And they sent me to Juvie for a couple weeks.”

               “No!” Y/N cried, grabbing his hand in instinct.

               “Y/N I-“ Larry paused, looking at her before sighing, “I think it drove my dad away.”

               Y/N cocked her head in confusion and tightened the grip on Larry’s hand, “What do you mean?”

               “My dad left a couple days after they sent me away,” He confessed, his face burning red in shame. He looked away from his friend and steadied his breathing, as though trying to contain his own emotions, “I thought I drove you away too.”

               Y/N’s heart jumped to her throat as she defensively rose to her feet, “Larry, you couldn’t ever drive me away! Daddy and Papa have been acting so weird and protective, and now I guess I know why… but it wasn’t my choice I promise.”

               Tears fell down her face, but she quickly wiped them from her face and continued to talk, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you, but from now on, we do everything together!”

               Larry smiled at her, pulling her into a hug.

               “You promise?”

               “Pinky.”

[johns-prince]

Paul: John was a beautiful man, John and I slept together, I loved John and I still love John, John was my soulmate. Howard Stern: John was the love of your life. Paul: BUT THE WOMEN-

Paul: John wasn't the love of my life, are you mad? Didn't you see all the women we banged?--

Paul: Recounts how when he first saw the little skiffle group playing at the Fete, it was John who caught his attention and basically "everyone else sort of faded away."

"I came to love that beery old breath."

Paul later divulged that he actually noticed John WAY BEFORE THE FETE, noticed him at the fish and chips shop, they had a brief chat at the newspaper stand Paul worked at briefly, he'd see John on top of the double deckers, would see John on the same bus as he was taking and literally had to steal glances because he was scared John would catch him staring and go knock him one.

Literally defied Jim at every turn when it came to John, would sneak John over when Jim wasn't home or his aunt's weren't over cleaning, started ditching class to hangout with John. Talk about "But daddy I love him" trope with a father who doesn't approve.

Paul chose John over his own fucking father.

Thought John was great for literally offering to share half his chocolate bar.

LITERALLY CONJOINED AT THE HIP WHEN THEY WERE JUST TEENS AND EVERYONE NOTICED.

Literally Paul would let John interrupt his dates, wouldn't get angry when he'd show up despite apparently canceling. Basically the girl Paul was on a date with would become the third wheel and afterwards when she'd complain about Paul letting "that awful guy" come with, Paul would defend John and his inappropriate, biting comments/behavior with, "Yeah but it was funny."

They'd sleep over at each other's houses, and Paul can't ever stop bringing up how he'd sleep with John, *a lot*.

They hitch hiked a lot together, alone.

Nerk twins.

"John's got beautiful hands."

"John was very beautiful."

John's the only one Paul would affectionately fix his tie for.

Paul has no problem with Two of Us and it's depiction of a nostalgic, playful kiss between them in that elevator scene-- but heavily criticized Nowhere Boy because "John never hit me."

Fucking Paris.

"John let me have as many banana milkshakes as I wanted, he must've been really fond of me." Paul you're just fucking with us now.

"I was the only one he chose as his partner, 'nough said."

Paul literally said he could've died happy since he was John's partner and got to work with him.

Paul put Linda's contributions down while gushing over his partnership with John and how he could NEVER have anything like that with anyone else because it's special. Linda's collaberations (and even his collaboration with Michael fucking Jackson) were considered not serious.

Paul's first lsd trip with John and, compared to the one he had with Tara, was PHENOMENAL (Tara claimed Paul just, sat in a corner, flipping through an artbook. Paul just wanted to take a shower after) literally the trip he had with John, the two stared into each other's eyes, repeating "I know." Then he described seeing John as sitting there, like the emperor of the universe. He tried going to lay down to sleep but instead he continued feeling John, like he was controlling everything.

Paul would go with John to meet certain people because he didn't want them upsetting John (not the other way around)

The photo of John sleeping that he took in Paris and has framed somewhere in his house.

Paul leaving the studio, in tears, and crying all the way back to his place, driven by Mal, after John told Paul, seriously, that he wanted a divorce and I don't want to hold your hand anymore.

Paul falling into a great depression when losing The Beatles (John) despite technically having "everything he wanted"-- a wife and kids. Newly wed and supposedly happy... But he was DEPRESSED.

THE SIX FOOT TALL PHOTO OF HIM AND JOHN DURING THE WHITE ALBUM THAT LINDA TOOK AND HE HAD IT IN HIS OFFICE.

"I'm in love with a friend of mine."

Paul was desperate to write with John again-- said by Linda.

"If John was gay then I would've been the first he would have hit on and tried anything with so--"

His entire rivalry with Stu for John's attention.

How about the night they cried, breaking down, drunk, telling each other they loved each other, hugging.

Literally Paul believed that when The Beatles fell, he and John would continue making music. When they got old Paul imagined he'd be making music with John still, for younger folks to play. It was always him and John.

Paul, twice, thought he witnessed John's soul/ghost/presence, once during an interview and when he, Ringo, and George were taking photos together and a white peacock photobombed one.

He always has dreams involving John, and he says they're always good.

After learning about John being killed, he literally locked himself in his studio and listened to Just Like Starting Over on full volume, for hours, weeks on.

He was in denial that John was truly gone, for a month or two. He refused to believe John was dead, wasn't on this plane of existence with him anymore.

He gets his hands on whatever he can of John's or about John.

Linda's friends would talk about how weird and slightly disturbing it was that Paul would talk about John, a lot, and talked about him in the present tense, as if he'd just seen him or talked to him-- not like John was dead.

Here Today.

He still slips and talks about John in the present tense.

He literally said he'll sometimes have "jam sessions" with John when stuck-- he'll imagine John there, and what he might say, the advice, if he'd think the lyrics are shit or good.

His favorite song is the one of his that John praised and was open about liking-- it was John's favorite on that album, so it's Paul's favorite song in general. It's the song Here, There, and Everywhere.

Paul, LITERALLY SAYING HE AND JOHN ARE SOULMATES.

Me:

[darthwheezely]

Okay so BY NO MEANS DO YOU HAVE TO WRITE THIS IF YOU AREN'T UP FOR IT!!! BUT- can you write something where Jimmy holds the reader down and just overstimulates them with his fingers and whenever it gets too much he kind of teases them about it (in like a sweet way but still not stopping). IDK- it's a hot thought if you're up for it!!! AGAIN YOU DON'T HAVE TO IF YOU DON'T WANT TO! Thank you and I hope you have a wonderful night/day💗💗

Finger Lickin’ Good - Jimmy Darling x Reader

Jimmy’s way too pent up to let those beautiful hands of his go to waste...

Warnings: NSFW/18+, if you’re a minor plEASE do not interact w this I know you wanna be spicy but sis please do not, okay? cussing probably, soft dom!Jimmy, possibly awful writing, my kink for Jimmy’s hands and heart and body and mind and-

a/n: lindsey, miss ma’am, you literally know i’m a whore for this man and besides, you could request the most whack shit and i would still prolly write it if only to see your reaction ajsjsjs

To say that Jimmy’s balls were blue was an absolute understatement. The man was honestly lucky enough to have balls at the rate (or rather, lack of) things were going. You and Jimmy’s sex life was always - well something neither of you ever needed to worry about, but lately with Elsa running around covering all her legal bases, she had sent everyone in a frenzy.

Unfortunately for you two this meant less than satisfactory time together. It was always something. And to be quite honest, Jimmy didn’t know if he could go another two weeks without touching you. And to make matters worse he knew you weren’t making it any easier.

It started with little things, light touches on his shoulders, something usual in your relationship. Then jaw kisses before going onstage. Then wearing The Dress.

Yes. That dress. The a-line that managed to not only show off a small but still good amount of cleavage, the waistline elastic bow on the back sinking into where your elevated waist hit naturally, and the worst? It was white. Jimmy had a thing for you in white.

That morning he couldn’t take it anymore. I mean, clearly, you wanted to act that dirty with him knowing he couldn’t touch you, right? So what was he gonna do about it? 

He was gonna show you exactly who had the upper hand.

*your POV uwu*

You would never say it out loud, but you only wore The Dress for days exactly like this: to torture your boyfriend. And honestly? You didn’t think you could go a day without imagining those intensely gifted fingers on (or in) you for another goddamn hour. But you also couldn’t say that.

So you had decided that morning to show him instead - he always was a visual learner...

You had been talking to Evie and eating your plate of bacon and hashbrowns when you felt two large, calloused hands collapse on your shoulder blades.

“Evie, mind if I steal the lady away for a second?” He drawled lowly. The way he said it combined with the weight of his hands on your body hit your core instantly.

Eve rolled her eyes, smirking. “If ‘a second’ is all it’ll take.” You smiled tightly at her as you allowed your boyfriend to guide you, albeit rather roughly, back to the van. Immediately as you got inside he pushed you up against the fridge and you winced from the pain.

“Jimmy, what the-” He stopped you with his mouth on yours, open and hungry, his hands working up the back of your thighs, causing a moan to erupt from you on impact into his mouth.

“You knew exactly what you were doing to me out there, and you thought it was a fuckin’ okay idea to tease me?” He lowered his mouth to your earlobe and downward, light nibbles on hot skin turning to harsh bites. You could feel his fully hardened cock against your heat and you wanted more than ANYTHING for those jeans to be off his body.

“I-I’m sorry, baby I just thought you’d li- oh fuck, Jimmy” You gasped, as he’d found that place right above your collar bone that (as he came to found out) was one of the most sensitive spots on your torso. Smirking against your skin, he traced the area with open mouthed kisses and began to bite again, leaving you attempting to stifle breathy high pitched whines.

“What was that, babydoll?” His hands picked up your thighs and brought your legs around his waist, pressing you harder against the fridge.

“I said I’m sorry” you gasped, pained by the feeling and the need for him. He smirked, bringing his thumb up to your chin and kneading it lightly.

“Aw, princess, I’m not mad at you. But the way I see it is that I’m gonna split that sweet little pussy of yours open with these-” he dragged his two fore fingers across your bruised collar bone, and looked back up at you.

“-and then you’re going to come so hard you can’t breathe. Sound good, baby?” He smiled softly at you. You bit your lip to hold back a moan and did your best to nod without moving any part of his body out of place. He chuckled watching you, and without a moments notice lifted you with toned tensed biceps and carried you to the bed, an array of heavy kisses being exchanged on the journey.

He dropped you on the bed watching as your breasts moved from the impact and groaned at the sight. He looked into your bright/dark eyes and flipped the lower half up, breath hitching in his throat. God, was he the luckiest fucker this side of the Mississippi. 

“Jesus, baby, you’re so goddamn beautiful,” he breathed, a dopey smile plastered on his face as he attacked you with kisses on your face, making you giggle at his soft demeanor.

“For someone so mad a second ago you seem to suddenly be pretty forgiving,” you laughed.

“I can still be mad but have eyes, Y/N, don’t get your panties in a twist” he scoffed, smiling into the crook of your neck.

“Oh, so I still get to keep my panties on by the end of this little argument?” You purred dragging your hands slowly down the back of his white tank top, barely touching him. And just like that, he was back to the state he was before. Instantly, he sat up and unbuckled his jeans, taking the brown belt in his hands he forced your wrists onto the headboard. 

“Now, just when did I say that?” He growled, tightening the hold on the belt. You knew your wrists would be raw as hell after however long this escapade took but strangely enough - that only got you more slick.

“JImmy, please” you whimpered, pleading with his whiskey eyes. He leaned back on his knees and began to slowly creep his tough and warm hands up and down your legs, inching his perfect fingers to your thighs at an agonizingly slow pace. 

“Angel,” he purred “you know I can’t help you if you don’t use your words.” You moaned at the idea of his fingers getting closer to where you needed them, tugging on the belt but forgetting (this bastard-)

“JImmy, please gimme”

“Give you what, baby? Tell me what you need, yeah?” He slid his fingers right outside of your clothed core and gently kneaded the skin there, pushing lightly, sending your back upward as you let out a loud moan.

“Jimmy, please, give me your fingers” you pushed out. He bit his lip at the sight of you, red faced, needy, and ready to be torn apart. His breath hitched as he slid two fingers inside you, not being able to tease you for very much longer. He needed you to come apart, to be unraveled as soon as possible - but not without a price.

“There you go” he whispered roughly, his fingers working against you the way you needed them to. You felt like your core was getting pried apart and hearing his fingers only sink deeper into your heat made you even more wet. He moved his fingers in you faster once he was completely in you, and started to jut his hips toward you involuntarily as he imagined how you would feel around his cock since it’d been so long-

“God, you’re so tight for me, Y/N, fuck” he choked out harshly, ghosting his thumb over your clit, tracing circles where you needed it. “Almost like this pussy was made for me, isn’t it baby?”

The sudden gentleness, however, retreated as fast as it arrived, as he picked up the pace, curling his fore fingers in you at an iron-hot speed. You felt your wrists becoming rawer and rawer by the second as your body strained for release to touch him, to imagine feeling your hands clawing his back and feverishly running your fingers through his coiffed hair. You screamed out harshly as he found your most sensitive point. You felt the white hot tension in your stomach as you approached your release.

“JIm, baby, please I’m-I’m so-” and then you felt him pull his fingers out, whining at the loss of contact. He cocked his head at you, eyeing you up and down biting his lip.

“You always want things, so easy, lovebug,” he said softly. Leaning all the way back so he returned to his knees at the edge of the bed. He pulled his shirt off and started to unbutton his pants, his fully erect cock straining against his boxers. You drooled at the sight of him almost completely naked. 

He dipped his head once he knew you were calmed down enough, pressing sloppy kisses on your calves up to the lower part of your thighs. He hitched a leg up on his shoulder, looking up at you first for consent and licking a stripe up your folds. 

“You taste as good as you look, little girl” he growled against you, the vibrations sending your head flying backward a squeak erupting from your lips. 

“Should I taste more of you? I don’t know if you deserve it little girl. You looked like you wanted one of the boys to take a turn with you before me. Or did you act like a whore today all for me?” he bit your inner thigh lightly, sucking on the skin there like it was gold. You cried out hoarsely, desperately pulling on his hair.

“Only for you, Jim, I promise” you feel him smirk against you as he began sucking onto your sensitive bud, your arousal building in your stomach like a fire pit. His fingers continuing to work against you as you felt release inching nearer again.

“Please, Jimmy, please” his tongue curling pressure where you needed him, the weight of him against you pooling what felt like everywhere in your system.

“Go on, honey, go on and come for me and tell me who this pussy belongs to” he pressed your hips to the bed as you cried out his name in release of everything he’d done to you.

“Jimmy, that was-“

“Good? Don’t sound so surprised” he teased softly winking up at you. His hand slid to the back of your dress, dancing along the zipper.

“But you didn’t think you were done here, did you, little girl?”

[dannyphantom-rewrite]

What's "how to get to cracker barrel" ?

What's "how to get to cracker barrel" ?

Oh now that, that one isn't Actually a wip. It's a short story I finished ages ago that later ended up being inspiration for one of the plotlines in an anthology style audio drama podcast I want to make some day. There's 4 main characters:

The Mckellen sisters Jamie and Lady who aren't Actually sisters but pass rather well for twins since one of them is actually a changeling, Natalie Anderson, photographer and lady's GF, and Gavin Walker, a mage still haunted by the death of his fiance, Caleb Adams, mostly due to the fact that his fucking ghost won't leave him alone.

Art by @unded-bun (click image for higher quality)

I'm leaving out a lot of details, but I'd be happy to fill in the gaps if anyone asks.

I'll Also throw the story itself under a read more here, bc I'm still super proud of it even though it's a few years old now.

A small hotel on the outskirts of Savannah, Georgia. There is a Sonic Drive-in across the busy street. Bright neon lights in the window state, “Open 24/7!” A Greyhound bus is idling in the parking lot. A man, Gavin Walker, climbs off and crosses over to the hotel. He walks easily, but not confidently. Approaching the hotel’s entrance, he spots a cat eating from a plastic bowl in front of the door. The feline is small, and feral. He is black, with white paws. He does not pay Gavin any mind as he enters, only continuing to crunch on dry cat food.

There's a desk on the left side of the lobby. The receptionist smiles kindly as he checks in. Her eyes are tired. Gavin gives her a knowing nod, and travels deeper into the building. There is a sign marked, “Out Of Order.” on the elevator. This is a good thing. Gavin takes the stairs, of which there are three flights. This is also a good thing, because three is a good number. He enters the hallway, which is old, and worn. The walls bear chipped yellow paint, and the floor, faded red carpet. Gavin continues down the hall after checking the time on his phone. It is exactly 11:59PM. He turns the device off and begins to count the seconds. At sixty he has stopped in front of the elevator. The fluorescent light above him flickers. The elevator does not have an out of order sign on it. It is the same elevator as before. Gavin enters.

He presses the button for the first floor. In the lobby the check in desk is now on the opposite side of the room. The lights are off, the receptionist is gone. It is daytime outside now. The bus is gone and the Sonic is closed. The road is vacant. There is a cat outside. She is white, with black paws. She looks up at Gavin as he approaches. They lock eyes, and he kneels in front of her.

“Hello, cat.” He says.

“Hello, Mage.” Says the cat.

She flicks her tail, “What is it you seek?”

“Direction.”

She nods and stands, before making for the road. The Sonic across the street is closed, but it was never empty. A Sonic is not a sit down restaurant. Customers are expected to pull into a parking spot and order over an intercom, and then a waitress delivers their meal directly to their car. Gavin’s pretty sure places like Sonic were more common in the 1950’s, and he knows that drive in diners are a dying breed now a days. The thought gives him a strange sense of nostalgia for something he’d never actually experienced, and he shudders involuntarily.

The cat sits down in the parking spot furthest from the building. She watches as he presses the the button on the intercom, listens, ears swiveling, as they are greeted with static. Looking out of the corner of his eye, Gavin can see something moving within the darkened restaurant. An outline of a figure, only vaguely humanoid. The thing moves like a deranged ape, long, long arms dangling to the floor and dragging it forward. Its back is hunched, legs short and stumpy. Gavin can not see its face, and he does not wish to. The intercom crackles to life.

“WhAt can aH’ do fER ya’lL?” Drawls The Thing in the Sonic. It’s got a southern accent thicker than congeling visera, and the pitch of it’s voice fluctuates wildly. Gavin glances uncertainly at the cat, and she nods.

“I’m looking for Direction.”

“Ahhhhhh……” groans The Thing, “WEll, watch’ Yer goNna wanna dO is hEad doWn the road, bout maybeEEee…..foUr, five miLeS, an’ yer gOnna wanna look fer’ weEl, watch yer gonna wanna fiNd is soMeTHing’ idEaliZed, ya knOw? Like uh, somethin’ kinDa romanticized, an’ a liTtlE faKe in sOme senSe but reAlLy true in anOther, ya follow?”

“Yeah.” said Gavin, even though he did not follow at all.

“Yep,” Continued The Thing, “n’ yer gOnna wanna gEt yourself sOme rasPberRy lemONade when ya get theRe, It’s some gOod shit, lemme tell ya.”

“Alright, I’ll uh, I’ll do that.”

“Good, GoOd, That’s Good. Y'all have a niIiiccceee daaaaaay nooooow.” And then the intercom crackled once more, and returned to spewing static. Gavin released the button and looked around for the cat, hoping, maybe, for some more guidance, but she had long since abandoned him. He started walking down the road, away from the Sonic Drive-In, and The Thing inside, and hopefully towards where he needed to be.

Gavin started to think as he walked, which was not something he liked to do often. He much prefered to act in the moment without much consideration for the consequences of those actions until they themselves became the moment. Gavin did not like to think because he often thought much too deeply, and it sometimes scared him. Gavin thought about a lot of different things in quick succession, he thought about the missing greyhound bus, and The Thing in the Sonic, and wondered if the disappearance of one had to do anything with the appearance of the other. It probably did. He thought about what The Thing had told him to do, and why he was doing it. He thought about why he’d come here in the first place, to this inverted little section of Georgia. And he thought about Liminal Spaces, about busted elevators and darkened hotel hallways and empty stairwells. The air shifted suddenly as a pickup truck speed past him, it had a faded confederate flag on the back window.

Liminal Spaces, simply put, were the areas between one place and another. The small spots in the middle of point A and point B where reality seems to be altered in such a way that the change is almost imperceptible, and yet, it is still enough to leave you feeling so impossibly strange.

Liminal Spaces can also be doorways, if one knows how to properly open them.

Gavin isn’t sure how long he’s been walking down this empty stretch of road, but it’s been long enough that he can no longer see the Sonic Drive-in behind him. It’s not even a dot in the distance now, just gone, as though it were never there to begin with. He keeps going. He walks until his feet hurt, and his legs ache, and keeps going even after that. At some point he sticks his thumb out towards the road, tired enough to risk hitch-hiking, but no cars have gone by since the pickup truck. And at some point he takes a moment to rest. He sits down on the shoulder, and just breathes for a while. And then when he stands again, he sees the Cracker Barrel just down the road. Exhausted as he is, he knows it isn’t possible for him to not have seen it earlier. Gavin decides it’s best not to dwell on that, though, because this is exactly the kind of place where Cracker Barrels can just pop into existence. (Although, as he enters the restaurant, he remains somewhat annoyed that it couldn’t have decided to do it a little sooner.)

The front of the Cracker Barrel is a store selling all manner of things. There's a back corner full of vintage candy, a small section of organic make-ups, and another full of knick-knacks like salt and pepper shakers, and dreamcatchers, as well as the usual crap that tourists like to buy, T-shirts and mugs and what not. Gavin has never actually been in a “regular” Cracker Barrel, so he’s not sure if this is a completely normal thing, but he’s certain that a “regular” Cracker Barrel would not also be selling such wares as bottled crocodile tears and Unicorn meat slim jims. There aren’t a lot of people in the store, and yet Gavin finds it impossible to get a good look at any of them. The people look normal, but they move like extras in the background of a film. The only person in the room with any notable features is the waitress standing by the back. She’s short, and her hair and eyebrows have been dyed a vibrant blue. As Gavin follows her into the seating area he can't help but stare at her hair, and he finds himself thinking that it can’t possibly be dye, it’s too bright, somehow. She smiles at him as he sits, and her teeth are a just little too sharp.

Once he’s seated, she says, “Can I start you off with a drink?” Her voice has a pleasant, lilting tone to it.

Gavin thinks back to The Thing in the Sonic, “A Raspberry Lemonade? If that’s something you have here?”

She nods, and goes off to get him one. Gavin leans back in his chair and takes in his surroundings, trying to relax. The decor in the Cracker Barrel has a sort of vintage, rustic feel to it, there’s things like black and white photos, and old advertisements on the walls. All the furniture looks antique. There are quite a few other customers present. Most of them look like the same nondescript folk from the front, but a few stand out. There’s a woman in the back corner, she’s dressed in black furs and her head is an ember eyed wolf skull. She’s sitting across from a man with the skull of a stag upon his shoulders, the antlers adorned with ivy. There’s something resembling a giant moth sitting two tables away, slowly crunching its way through a Caesar salad. Occasionally, there’s a figure leaning against the kitchen doors, they look as though they’re made up of television static. Gavin’s eyes start to hurt from trying to look at them, so he turns his attention to the menu instead. The waitress returns with his Raspberry Lemonade, and he orders the Country Fried Shrimp.

Gavin takes a sip of his drink and finds that he agrees with the Thing in the sonic. It’s definitely some good shit.

“Funny seeing you around here, Gav.”

Gavin looks up from his drink, almost spills it in surprise.

“Is this seat taken?”

Gavin manages to shake his head.

Caleb Adams pulls out the chair across from him and sits. Gavin stares at him. He’s wearing a T-shirt that reads, “NORMAL HOROSCOPES: Making your day a little more magic whether you like it or not.” Gavin’s not sure if it’s supposed to be advertising for a psychic’s shop or if it’s some strange indie band he’s never heard of. Knowing Caleb, it’s probably the latter.

He finally manages to speak, “You’re dead.”

“Yeah?” Caleb leans an elbow on the table, and props his head up in his hand, his smile never wavers, “And?”

“And- and I don’t know, Fuck, I don’t know.”

The waitress briefly interrupts his existential crisis by depositing his Country Fried Shrimp on the table. Gavin looks down at it and tries to focus on the smell of greasy seafood instead of the dead man sitting across from him.

“You seem confused.” Caleb’s voice sounds uncharacteristically sympathetic.

Gavin nods.

He sighs, frowning “Eat your lunch, and then we’ll talk.”

Gavin eats what he can, but it’s a large portion, and he’s somehow not that hungry. He takes a final bite, and pushes the plate across the table, silently offering Caleb the rest of the shrimp.

The barest hint of a smile returns to his face, “Thanks, but no.” And then he’s frowning again, “Why’re you here, Gav?”

“I just went where I was told to-”

He shakes his head, “No. I don’t mean the friggin’ Cracker Barrel, I mean Here.”

And Gavin doesn’t really know what to tell him. That he’s here because he felt lost and desperate? That he didn’t know what to do anymore? That it doesn’t matter anyway because he’s fine, everything's fine and he’s just tired?

But he doesn’t tell Caleb any of that, he just says, “I miss you.” And he can’t keep his voice from cracking.

“I know you do.” Caleb places a hand over his, “But this is damn near one of the dumbest things you’ve ever done. You knew this place wouldn’t be safe for you.”

He feels numb, “I didn’t really care.”

“Gavin,” Caleb grips his hand now, “Look at me, please. I mean, really look at me.”

So he does, he looks up at him, and finally, meets his eyes.

They have not changed. Death has not reduced the amount of compassion behind them, nor faded the sea blue color. Gavin stares. Eyes are supposed to be a window into someone's soul, a way to truly see into them, and Gavin just stares because Caleb’s eyes are still capable of conveying so much, and he can feel tears running down his face…..

“It’s time to go home, Gav, okay?” He gestures to the window, and the Greyhound bus has pulled up, “Your ride's here.”

And Gavin knows has to force himself to look away and loosen his grip, and he can’t bring himself to.

“It’s alright.” He says, “It’s going to be alright. I’ll take care of the bill, Please just let go.”

And Gavin finally, Finally manages to tear himself away.

He does not feel anything but relief as he leaves, as he boards the bus and settles into a seat. He leans back, and watches through the window as the world shifts and shimmers and is suddenly dark and starry once more. As the Greyhound pulls out of the Sonic parking lot, Gavin closes his eyes, and slowly falls into the comfort of a deep, dreamless sleep.

[365days365movies]

January 2, 2021: Mission: Impossible (Part 1)

My mission, should I choose to accept it...

YEAH I KNOW IT’S A CLICHÉ. I just wanted to say it once.

So, previously on this blog, I watched the film Top Gun. Also previously, I didn’t like the film Top Gun that much, especially not its main character, Maverick, played by one illustrious Tom Cruise. Goodbye, Maverick. I banish ye from this sacred place, for this is a place where your toxic, arrogant, douchebaggery will NOT stand. 

Instead, we’re gonna jump into a separate Tom Cruise vehicle, one so iconic that he launched a multi-million dollar, 6-movie franchise, and made himself known as an actor who (obsessively) does his own stunts. Which, of course, he likes to let people know, and ramps up with every successive movie. Y’hear that he’s going to space next? Like, real actual space? Don’t know what action’s going to happen there, but call me cautiously intrigued. And by the way, I know that Top Gun: Maverick is coming out this year, and that it’s technically a continuation of the original Top Gun franchise, but as I said...Maverick is no longer allowed here. It’s all Ethan Hunt now.

A few things before I start the recap. First off: did I like this movie? And the answer is...I mean, yeah? I’d like to see more Mission: Impossible movies after this, if I’m honest. I’ve heard that Henry Cavill’s lip is amazing in the most recent one, so call me interested in getting to that point. I mean, that’s 5 movies, and I’m not doing that this month, I tell you what. Still, consider them on my list! As for this movie, let’s get into it. Might help me dissect my feelings a little better.

Second, I should say that Mission: Impossible (the whole series, but especially this film), is loosely based upon the original television series from the 1960s, starring Leonard Nimoy, Peter Graves, Martin Landau, Lesley Ann Warren, and more. It was a spy-series starring members of the Impossible Missions Force, or IMF. Ran for 7 seasons starting in 1966, then was revived in the ‘80s with Peter Graves returning. And, interestingly enough, I’ll have more to say on that later.

Third and finally, I should say my relationship with spy movies. Can’t say I’ve seen a lot of them, in truth, but I have seen the original Sean Connery (RIP) James Bond films, with the exception of Never Say Never Again. Haven’t seen any other Bond films, and any other spy movies that I’ve seen aren’t super notable, in truth. And yeah, I’ve seen the Austin Powers films, but that’s a conversation for a different month.

OK, enough background folderol, let’s get to that impossible mission, shall we? And SPOILERS, by the way.

Recap

OK, so we start with our intrepid spy group mid-mission, interrogating a guy using a fake dead-prostitute, a fake hotel, and a fake face, as seen by Tom Cruise taking off one of the iconic masks from the original show. And while this is clearly enhanced special effects, the original series used real latex rubber masks to accomplish the effect of taking the mask off. I dunno, that seems more charming to me than this:

But call that personal opinion, I guess. Anyway, we cut to Jon Voight...he’s the villain, isn’t he?

I mean, come on, he’s gotta be the villain, it’s Jon Voight in a ‘90s movie, where there are very few big names outside of himself and Cruise. But, I might be wrong about that, as Voight is playing Jim Phelps in this movie, and they wouldn’t turn Jim Phelps, of all characters, into a villain. He’s one of the main characters from the original series, played by Peter Graves. Dude even made it into the sequel series in the ‘80s as the head of IMF, a role which he appears to have taken up here as well. So, OK, I must be mistaken, he’s not gonna be the villain.

Right?

Anyway, after Jim Phelps chooses to accept the mission, the tape self-destructs, and our guys are going to Prague for find proof that some dude is stealing government secrets. We also find out that Phelps (Voight, remember) is married to Claire, played by Emmanuelle Beart, a woman 25 years younger than Voight. Well...sure? Anyway, we set up some nifty gadgets and planned disguises, and we make our way to the mission. And once there, the plan goes off without a hitch. I mean, mostly, anyway. No plan is foolproof after all! So, anyway, everybody’s dead.

Yeah. Wow. Everybody just got MERCED. Emilio Estevez gets crushed by an elevator, Kristin Scott Thomas gets stabbed alongside the suspect (somehow; I don’t understand how and why she doesn’t just walk away when she sees the dude clearly getting stabbed). Ingeborga Dapkunaite gets blown up, Emmanuelle Béart does to, but...off-screen. Hmm. And Voight gets shot...on camera...so that Hunt can see it happen...

It’s them, right? It’s Jim and Claire, the married couple, right? Like...they’re totally the villains of the movie, yeah? Because, like, we don’t see Claire get killed, and Phelps literally gets killed on camera. And the way the gun is pointed at him, CLEARLY looks like he’s shooting himself. It’s even the same suit that he’s wearing, you can see the sleeve! Come ON, man!

But, no, it can’t be that easy, right? This is a spy movie, after all, one of the best! Plus, I’m only, 20 minutes in? It CAN’T BE THAT EASY! And again, they wouldn’t do that to Jim Phelps, arguably the most well-known character from the original series! Right? RIGHT?

I’m just gonna say right now, I’m gonna be so upset if I’m right about this. Anyway...

Well, looks like Ethan’s being framed for the death of his team. Ah. So, it’s this story, huh? The mission was an attempt to root out a mole, and was apparently successful, according to Agent Kittedge (Henry Czerny at his most slimily dickish). Hunt is (very badly) interrogated by Kittredge, who literally only exacerbated the situation with his dumb, dumb interrogation tactics. Yeah, it’s gonna be one of those movies. Anyway, Ethan uses explosive chewing gum to escape, blows up a tank, and kills, just, SO many fish. Aquarists everywhere shivered as it happened, I’m sure.

Hunt goes...back to the safe house? Would...would the IMF not know where their agents are stationed? And you just went...back? Couple that with the fact that Hunt figures out how to contact the mysterious dealer “Max” within about 10 minutes, and IMF officials couldn’t figure that out for 2 YEARS at this point, and...these guys aren’t great spies, are they? So much slipping under their nose, geez. And if Jim actually is the mole, then WOW, these guys are incompetent. Still, outside of suspicion, there isn’t much proof of that yet...

Oh, look. Claire’s alive. Yeah...yeah, I’m calling my shot, it’s Jim and Claire. I don’t care if I’m wrong. In fact, I sincerely hope I am, for multiple reasons. But, yeah, I’m calling it officially now. And yeah, I’m not happy about it.

Anyway, Hunt, being not nearly suspicious enough of Claire’s survival, has indeed cracked the code that the entire IMF couldn’t crack in, again, 2 YEARS up to this point. Max has contacted him through the AIM server boards (Usenet, I know, but it’s the ‘90s; couldn’t resist). Max, played by Vanessa Redgrave in a pleasant surprise, makes a deal with Ethan to get the real list of agents, rather than the decoy that she’s been given. She accepts, as they narrowly escape capture by the IMF, and Ethan agrees to give her the full list for $10 million. And for the record, that set of demands is...VERY specific, on Ethan’s end. Thought about this before, huh, buddy-boy?

Anyway, Claire (who’s definitely guilty) and Ethan recruit two disavowed agents to help them. One is Franz Kreiger, a knife-loving sociopath played by the amazing Jean Reno. The other is Luther Stickell, a slickly-dressed computer hacker charmingly played by Ving Rhames. And I gotta say...I’m into it. Like, these two are both awesome characters, and I’m all for it. Rhames, while visually not looking like you’d expect an IT guy to look, pulls it off really well. He’s potentially my favorite character in the film, behind Max and Kreiger. Because, Kreiger...

So, Leon: The Professional is on my list for this month, and having seen Reno in this movie, I am EXCITED to see a movie in which he’s the star. I’ve only really seen him in this and Godzilla and heard him in Flushed Away, and he’s always my favorite character in those films. Not sure if it’s his characters, or his rakish charm, or his ABSOLUTELY AWESOME voice, but I’m a sucker for some Jean Reno, lemme tell you.

Allllllll right, time for some spy action! Looks like we’re going into Langley to get some information. Not an easy mission, that’s for sure. In fact, some might even say it’s a-

...Yeah, OK. Anyway, the mission proceeds in what may be, and I’m gonna be honest...one of the most heart-poundingly tense and enjoyable sequences I’ve seen in a spy movie. Cruise dangling by a wire over a supposedly break-in-proof room that sets off alarms at even the slightest trigger? Yeah...yeah, that shit was cool, I’m not gonna lie. Kreiger struggling to hold Cruise up, Luther coaching from the comms while awaiting the NOC list on his computers; it’s pretty awesome. No complaints there, 10/10.

OK, let’s break it up into two halves again, yeah? Part 2!

[paranormal-hitch]

Can I have a hug from Jim??

["Oh course, you lovely human."]

[h3ll0-my-n3me-is]

haiii i love you gievs you big kissykiss

[ wowza . !]

(OOC: got into job corp while I was gone. so that’s neet!)

[un-bearablysweet]

Spider mom Au Headcanon

Even though Big Mama did my man dirty and used Master Splinter for her own gain, I can't help but wonder what life would be like if she had said yes to his proposal. Imma calls it "SpiderMom" Au.

Picture it, Lou Jitsu proposes, and Big Mama confesses that before she can give him an answer, he has to know the truth. She then reveals herself to be a Spider Yokai and a crime lord and asks him if he still loves her? Even when in her Yokai form. She had seen the previous girls he had been with, why would he again choose her to marry?  

This gonna be a little longer than usual, so bear with me.

Lou Jitsu, at this point, is too far gone to even think about letting Big Mama go. He's shocked at first, but once he looked into those eight beautiful eyes that this was still the woman he loved. No matter what she forms she took, she was still is his sassy sugar badger. Besides the whole crime boss thing, it was a minor inconvenience. Lol

With no further hesitation, Lou Jitsu stands by his proposal. 

Big Mama agrees, but before the can get hitched, Lou Jitsu has to prove his worth to not only hear but to the Yokai community and her associates. These lead to Lou Jitsu's fighting and winning at the battle Nexus to prove himself. Kinda like how animals in the wild have mating dances or fight challengers as a show of dominance and that they are the best choice. 

Lou Jitsu wins, and he and Big Mama are happily married a couple of years passed. And while Lou does remain champion after suffering nasty injuries after a particularly lousy fight. He and Big Mama agreed that he should retire early with zero loses; by then, Draxum had already seen Lou Jitsu fight and is still moving along with his mutation plan.  

Draxum doesn't know that Lou and Big Mama are married at this point and believed that Big Mama was hogging Lou Jitsu for herself and would only make him fight once a year to draw in a bigger crowd. Lou Jitsu only fights once a year as a part- one wedding anniversary gift. It's only after the fight that when Lou Jitsu is getting his minor cuts and scrapes healed up before he and Big Mama continue, they're planned anniversary that Hugin and Munin strike. 

Rather than willing going with them, as shown in the episode Goyles, Goyles, Goyles. Hugin and Munin manage to chloroformed him with some of the healing potions in the room. 

It's at this point that when Lou reawakens in Draxum's lab, Draxum does his usual villain monologue, and Lou explains that he's doesn't have time for crazy fans, and he doesn't plan to be late for his anniversary dinner. Lou Jitsu was used to be occasionally kidnapped or threatened by rivals or business associates of Big Mama. 

These yokai's soon learned not to mess with Big Mama's business, let alone her hubby. Insults were hurled, punches were thrown, the mutations happen, and the lab was destroyed. Lou manages to make his way out of the fire and rubble with four baby turtles clutched in his arms. But rather than retreat to the sewers to Lou immediately makes his way to the Battle Nexus outpost to flag done a ride back to the hotel. 

He and Big Mama had never thoroughly discussed the idea of children, but I guess there was no backing out now. Lou quickly made his way to the hotel and was immediately tended to by the onsite healers. Big Mama had been getting ready for the anniversary dinner all morning. She now has to process the fact that her husband appears to be turning into a rat. A group of her bellhops was trying to calm four baby turtles.

Once Lou finishes his tale of events, Big Mama is furious and immediately wants to put a hit on Draxum's head. With the mutation continuing with no way of reversing it, Lou convinces her it would be better than Draxum believe that both he and the turtles are dead from the fire. Draxum was very reclusive, and he didn't run deeply in the same circles as Big Mama so the wouldn't have to worry about word getting out. Most yokai were smart enough to not spread Big Mama's business around. 

Big mama wasn't exactly sold on having not one but four children, but once the little box turtle looked up her with the sweetest look and chirped at her. She swore from then no harm would come to them. These were now her turtles-boos while she was certainly not the most maternal. Isn't that becoming a parent was about learning along the way? And the kids were a part of her husband, and she still loved him dearly they would get through this together.

She did, however, refuse to name the green 1-4. She drew the line at that. While she would miss her husband's tall stature and tan skin, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't enjoying how fluffy he and small he was. Gray was definitely his color, she had her servants set up a nursery near her rooms and knew that this was definitely going to be interesting.

The boys are then raised mostly in the Nexus Hotel topside, not wanting to catch the eye of Draxum; the boys were only allowed outside the hotel into the hidden city with at least 12 guards. The boys are given private tutors, of course, and due to Raph's "sharp" physique all his clothes, his clothes had to be enchanted but would still end up ripping. Donnie, of course, chews through tutors like packs of gum. And Big Mama loved to indulge all of her baby's talents. 

She especially loved to brag how brilliant her children were to anyone who would listen.

"oh your 21yr son finished college how cute, my Donnie kins just finished building his second AI system, it's what all the 12yr olds are up to." 

"My Darling Miguel has been winning the hidden city gymnastics competition for several years now."  

"Oh, yes! My lovely Leo just led his Kendo team to nationals for the 5th year in the row! You must see the trophy."

"Raphael is getting so big, I'm sure his boxing coach will soon be moving him to the advanced class. 15yrs need to stay active, you know."

Everything is not always perfect, you know.

The boys are an absolute menace on the hotel as children; Donnie won't stop ripping out needed appliances and messing with the elevator. Mikey once painted over a 500 dollar rug, Raph and Leo turned the dinner carts into chariot racing. 

 I imagine that Big Mama is a cross of Mama bear and Tiger Mom, she's very loving and wants the best for her children. But when she's mad, it's best to stay clear. She can't stay mad at her babies for long though, family nights were a must. Lou Jitsu marathons with lots of snacks, pizza, and cuddling. And must to Lou's chagrin Jupiter Jim movies. You definitely missed being human, but being rat had its advantages. And with a cloaking necklace given by his wife, he could hardly tell the difference. 

The boys still meet April while sneaking out and manage to convince their mom that she wasn't like other humans. The boys were getting older, and she couldn't keep them in the hotel forever. Cue giving them cloaking necklaces and bracelets to hide out in the human world and start going to school with April. 

And all the shenanigans of trying to hide four mutant turtles in high school included.

This is getting pretty long for me, so I'll end it here, if anyone's interested in more info on my take, feel free to message me.  

[pcttrailsidereader]

Where were you 30 years ago today?

McKenzie Pass - Little Belknap Mountain - Washington Ponds (7.5 miles)

This opportunity for Jim, How and me to reunite on the PCT ten years after our 30-day experience in 1981 was special indeed.  For each of us the PCT adventure had been a marker event and had solidified our friendship.

The negotiations had begun with our wives the summer before (since we each have small children the support of Amy, Deb, and Kathy was essential) and ended with a flurry of phone calls in the waning days (including a collect call from ‘Boris’ to Jim). We concluded our packing late the night before we left and were fortunate not to have forgotten more than we did.  On the other hand, maybe we all should have forgotten about fifteen pounds of gear to make our loads more tolerable.

Since How was riding to McKenzie Pass with Doug and Janice we knew he had to be on time or else . . . the ever-punctual Robinson Express pulled out at 8 am.  Jim and I followed a couple of hours later with Steve and Michelle who had volunteered to drive us to the trailhead on their way back to Seattle.  This seemingly foolproof rendezvous became more complicated by road work on the Sisters - Eugene highway which necessitated that Howard hitch the final 15 miles and we talk our way past the construction ‘flag person’.

Shortly before 1 pm we bid adieu to Steve and Michelle and started winding our way up through the lava fields surrounding Belknap and Little Belknap Peaks. Our finely honed, well-muscled bodies made quick work  The intervening decade hadn’t made elevation gain any easier so we took a gorp break at the top of Little Belknap and relished the view over the Sisters to the south and Mt. Washington to the north.  A side trip to the top of Little Belknap yielded a panorama over Bend, Smith Rocks, and the Eastern Oregon desert.  It was magnificent.

We talked non-stop until the next upgrade, a couple of miles past the saddle, took our breath away.  Our plan had been to cross-country to a lake on the southeast side of Mt. Washington at about the 5-mile mark. By the time we recognized that the directions in the guidebook had been outdated by changes in the trail we were too far along to turn back. Anyone seeing us as we trudged the final mile of the day would have assumed we were participatiing in some sort of 50-mile forced march.  We were tired, hungry, and experiencing the aches and pains of our adjustment to carrying 50 - 60 pound loads.

The lack of surface water along the stretch forced us to search for Washington Ponds, two small stagnant pools of water, which were sufficient to allow us to replenish our water supply.  We camped a short distance away in an open meadow with great views of Mt. Washington and the peaks to the west.  The old teamwork paid off as dinner was prepared, the tent set up, and a bear-bagging rope positioned.  Did dinner ever hit the spot!

Despite the challenges of the day, we were all thrilled to be together. I wasn’t surprised that we barely missed a beat in picking up where we had left off as we had emerged on Rainy Pass a decade ago.

Rees Hughes (30-year old journal)

[wheelersdealer]

All of You

Summary: You and Steve went from being the troublesome Queen and King of Hawkins High to the mother and father of the party. With a similar fate of working at poorly uniformed stores in Starcourt, and even poorer relationships with Jonathan and Nancy, you escape the Russians early and make an awkward meet up with the group at Hop’s cabin….where the mind flayer grabs onto your leg instead of El’s. 

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader, Jonathan Byers x Reader Warnings: STRANGER THINGS SEASON 3 SPOILERS, Profanity, Gore. A/n: This is a "Little Devil” prequel requested by @ponyboy-sunsets. I’m digging the Jonathan elements and contemplating more of this love-triangle. Let me know if you’d be interested!

Starcourt decided that with the mall being the new revolutionary, it was only right to pay homage to the revolutionary hot-spot within its own property.

And you work there in the mock 50s diner with enough space to fit ten to twenty smelly, cramped families. You hate it. 

You’ve avoided having to haul around a beehive or mod wig and took up a ponytail alternative. Big hair or high hair has always been a requirement, even if by crappy wig or extensions.

The top half of your dress was crisp white with a red chiffon neck scarf. You’ve been sputtering and spitting the thing out of your mouth every time the wind has blown it right in there all night. And the bottom half was a deep red with a black felt poodle.

Kicking open Jim Hopper’s cabin with your bare foot and coming face to face with your children in the care of your ex, everyone can see that everything is red.

All of you. 

You drive an intoxicated Steve and Robin, and an eager Dustin and Erica the hell away from Starcourt as soon as those elevator doors open. Well, more like as soon as you spot the front doors of the mall after having to take a detour on account of the guard waiting near the elevator.

Both hands on the wheel yet you’re barely stable, your limbs aching and shaking and burning with how hard you clench your muscles in an attempt to steady your movements. 

You adjust Steve’s mirror and look back where Dustin’s squished between the two dummies who are giggling wildly and flailing, unable to get comfortable like a couple of tired toddlers. Your only choice is to endure the kicking at your back seat, Steve’s strange cooing at all the pretty street lights you pass by, and put all your weight on the gas. 

Erica senses the oncoming doom with the two before you do, and she lets out a strained “Uhhhhhh,” for longer than you like before finally spitting out “Y/n?”

You try your hardest not to snap at her. You can’t not snap at her so you keep your lips shut tight and give her a glance. 

“They’re quiet back there.” 

You look at them through the mirror. Indeed, they’re quiet, Steve’s face halfway out the window, his hand around the ceil, and Robin slumped over Dustin as she tries to get a taste of what Steve’s seeing. 

Your breath hitches and you almost scream, “Dustin, turn Robin’s head away!” 

He scrunches up his nose, ready to ask why. And that’s when Steve begins to hurl. It’s out the window but you can hear it and you close your eyes for just a second as your body shivers. Dustin’s jaw drops and he goes “OooHH—“ just barely getting the gist and pushing on Robin’s shoulder so she can direct her projectile outside of the car.

You wince at it, seeing she perhaps got some slobber on his shoulder and lap. 

But with what they’ve started, you might as well finish it. You hit the gas and Steve and Robin both whimper. The speed certainly does nothing to help their tummy in comfort but you’d like to believe it helps them get all of that gunk out faster. Dustin winces too and pulls his knees up and his hands to his head, preparing for the increased mass of projectile if either Robin or Steve chose to turn their heads to him.

Erica looks away, doing a few double takes but mostly pretending like all that…isn’t what she’s seeing.

“Where are we goING?!” Dustin yells. 

You scrunch your nose, back pressed deep into your seat. And then you fling yourself (and poor, poor, tiny little Erica…and Robin and Dustin and Steve but whatever) forward with the harshest stop you think you’ve ever made in your history of driving….The Byer’s household is lightless, empty. You groan and slap the wheel gently. But for the sake of the possibilities, you hand Erica the keys (hey, you never know when you’ll need another child to drive) and hop out of the car. 

You’re an absolute mess, first of all. And walking in this breeze is the first time you’ve really felt it. The skirt portion of your dress is still quite thick and poofy, but let’s say thicker with how much blood its soaked up from a mix of Russians, yourself, and Steve. 

You knock violently but within seconds deem that useless. And with two hands on the knob you push, prepared to meet a barricade. But there is none. You almost trip inside and as much of a bummer as it is to not be met with the faces of Dustin’s friends and yours (debatable), you’re comforted thinking they might not have come across trouble themselves yet…

So you skip back to the car and halfway down the Byer’s dirt and dead-grass lawn, you stop to pull your stupid work heels from your feet and chuck them off.

You get back in the car and get driving. 

The only other place available is the lab and Hopper’s cabin, but looking back to the last two years of having to deal with this shit you put your bets on the idea that if the others have found themselves in as much trouble as you’ve been in, that they’re going to be secluded. 

“Uck��what the fu—“ You press the gas again and the newly clear-headed Steve grunts as he’s thrown forward into the back of your seat.

“Oh great, glad to have you two back! Did you enjoy your trip?” You mock.

Steve’s curled up in his seat and gripping his head. “Are you mad at me? Or-or something?”

That ‘mocking voice’ is the one you put on for your diner gig, all cutesy and girly and 50s-esk (according to your boss and his pestering). You always use it to taunt customers you’ve found yourself particularly annoyed with throughout the day.

He groans is reminded of the pain, realizes that he really did go through a trip, and decides to put it to rest. 

“Where are we going?”

“Are…?” Robin squints, “Are we driving?” She tries leaning over Dustin to look at the windshield but gravity flings her back against her seat with your speed.

“Yup!” You say through strained teeth. You take a sharp right and drive yourselves straight into the woods.

They all hold onto the sides of the car (as for Dustin, he curls up and tries his best to hold onto Robin and Steve) when your car goes ‘out of control’ and you do a few donuts. But you’re determined, as Erica can see amidst her screaming. You don’t flinch for a second.

After it’s all over and done with, the car rumbling to a stop on dirt and gravel, a mere strand of hair has been flung out of place and lands itself on your forehead. You blow it away, finally get the will to unclench your hands from the steering wheel, then kick your door open. 

You slam it shut and look up the hill and past some trees. There it is — Hopper’s cabin, faint lights seen through the window. 

Never-mind all the sticks and rocks digging into your bare (or perhaps nylon-covered) feet. You stomp forth and Dustin shouts “Y/n, wait!” 

You don’t wait. You keep straight ahead with your teeth dug into your lip. You’d say it hurts and that you’re sad that it’s bleeding after everything,  but frankly the way the red tints your lips fixes up your absolutely battered lipstick and you feel more presentable. 

You run your hand down your dress, grip the doorknob, and give the others a lot. 

To give you some leverage in case this door is barricaded, you put your foot against the door and push, turning the knob and slamming the door into the drywall it lands against.

There’s a collective “AH!” and a cacophony of furniture squeaking and scuffing, but it’s just you.

It’s you facing whaddya know — Jonathan, Nancy, Mike, Lucas, Will, Max, and Eleven. Your eyes jump from one person to the next, and each of their faces is as terrified as the next.

“Y—“ Jonathan carefully gets up. “Y/N?” He stands with Nancy who holds onto his shoulder. “What the hell happened?”

Back to your uniform…

The top half of your dress was crisp white with a red chiffon neck scarf, and the bottom half was a deep red — no, more like scarlet — with a black felt poodle stitched somewhere near the bottom rim. But now, everything is red. Even though the amount of blood wasn’t all that substantial when you really think about it, the sheer amount of sweat collected from this little ‘experience’ has the colors spread. The top half has dried a deep, dark red in some parts, with swirls of white and pink in others. Almost looks like tie-dye, but the clear crunchy texture shows them otherwise. The red of your lips is wholly unnatural, the absolute mess your hair is is just plain out of character…and you don’t have any shoes?

When the wind tries to will the front door shut again, you put your palm against the wood and slam it open.

You spit, “Russians.” 

And in that moment Steve, Robin, Erica, and Dustin pop up behind you. You sway a bit when Steve puts his weight on your back, taking a moment to rest from all of that running.

And then the boys yell “DUSTIN!” 

And the pained look on your face, the one that embodies absolute badassery…it fades as you crack a smile. You let yourself be bumped against the door a bit as Dustin and Erica push past you, Robin, and Steve to reunite with his friends and her brother. 

“I’m sorry did you just…?” Nancy crosses her arms and steps forward. “Say Russians?” She chuckles a little. 

You and Steve become a little more lighthearted, saying “Yeah,” simultaneously.

Dustin jumps and breaks up the group-hug with his party. “Where?” He asks, neck popping up like a groundhog. 

Even Robin and Erica look around, nerve-wracked. 

You squint at the image of Eleven approaching Dustin, wetness and discoloration under her eyes. She taps him gently and when he whips back around and he damn-near tackles her to the ground. You step forward, the care-free look on your face on account of this reunion clearly gone to Nancy and Jonathan. 

You raise your chin and speak to Jonathan specifically without looking.

“What’s going on?” Mike and Will come over and hug you, Will laughing and Mike being more calm about it. With him, it’s more of a side hug. You ruffle his and Will’s a bit before Steve steps in and looks at them incredulously. He beckons, wondering where’s his hug and they bother to give him a weak one. 

Jonathan’s jaw drops and he looks to El then Nancy for answers as he runs his sweaty hands down his jeans. When he’s silent for too long your look at him. Poor, poor…adorable boy jumps a bit. 

He sputters, “We uh-El…Eleven she—“

“It’s the Mind Flayer.” Nancy says over his shoulder. You nod at Steve and Robin, and they both come around to join the conversation. Nancy purses her lips at Robin. You beat her to her question—

“This is Robin, works at Scoop’s Ahoy with Steve. She was also trapped by the Russians.” You point over your shoulder, and she waves faintly. “Go on.” You cross your arms and with your poise, Nancy suddenly feels that intimidation she’s way too familiar with. She deflates, reminded of you and you in high-school…never mean to her, never bothered, but there was this air of sophistication her and peers learned to be fearful of as compared to all the other jocks and cheerleaders (not to say you were one, but the majority of the ‘popular kids’ were. You got clumped in the genre). 

Still, Jonathan and Nancy are quiet. 

She squeezes Jonathan’s shoulder a little tighter. And for the love of wanting to keep the world existing, you roll your eyes and make your way over the kids where Mike and Will have caught up. 

“Hey! Hate to ruin this cute little reunion and your fun time but we need to swap information, now.” You soften up for El. “What’s this I hear about the Mind Flayer?”

She sniffles a bit. “It’s back.”

You nod with a strange smile conjured from your attempt to not spit out ‘no shit’. You run your hand over your jaw and just mutter, “Alright, alright…What do you have on it?” You look at Mike. “Do you know where it’s at?”

Mike sucks his lip in. He sighs before stepping forward to explain. “El said it said that it was building something.”

You lean back. “It spoke?”

Max pipes up, “Through Billy.” 

You click your jaw. “Huh.” Strangely, you don’t need all that much convincing.

Mike continues again. “Since it doesn’t have Will, it went to Billy for a vessel.”

“So Billy’s possessed?” Steve asks. You scoff and push against his head, guiding him toward the couch. Dustin helps with that, grabbing Steve’s arm and (much to Steve’s confusion and sputtering) pulling him to a cushion. Robin leans on you a bit, and to Jonathan and Nancy’s surprise, you don’t do anything about it. 

“He went all cuckoo!” Lucas rolls his finger in a circle near his temple. You’re taken back by that phrasing but okay. 

Mike gets back to expository mode. “The Mind Flayer possessed Billy, and Eleven just went into his memories to find the source—”

“Source of what?” Steve slurs.

“Jesus!” You throw your head back, arms still crossed. “Can you let the boy talk for one second, he’ll explain the answers to all of your questions if you just let him!” Steve slinks back into the couch. Dustin’s jaw is dropped, and he pokes at Steve with a sly smile before Steve slaps his hand away and holds his hand to his throbbing cheek. “Continue, please.” 

Mike blinks, surprised. “O…kay.” He shakes his hair out, and just when he thinks to stop you wave on for him to continue as you head into the kitchen and come back out to stand behind Steve and press a bag of frozen peas to his cheek. He puts his hand over yours but you still don’t move. The kids all go quiet at this strange, strange display of affection.

You urge, “Go on!”

“Uh, right! Sorry!” Mike sits down on the coffee table and looks up at you. “The Mind Flayer has been collecting an army. We call them the Flayed. We think Billy’s its main guy, and basically the big guns is the Mind Flayer made up of the melted flayed.” You and Steve wince together. Mike winces. He doesn’t think it’s cute…but it kinda is — anyways. “El just said how Billy and the Flayed are going to come here. They’re trying to stop her.”

Lucas chimes in. “Cause El closed the gate on him last year and royally pissed him off.” 

And so does Will, who sits on the arm rest. “So it’s not to spread. It’s just for her.” 

Mike nods. “Exactly.” 

You hum. “Okay…okay…Well uh, boy so we got news for you.” You chuckle nervously. You catch Jonathan’s eyes and you both look away on cue. For once tonight you sputter, caught up in your own nerves. But you shake them off and look at Mike. “There are Russians in Hawkins, and they have a lab under the mall…” you look to each person in the room. “They’re opening the gate.” 

Will scoffs. He’s much more offended than doubtful. “What?”

“They’re opening…the gate. We saw it. It’s this weird machine that’s shooting a laser at this wall — it’s exactly where the gate was and it looks like it did back then. They’ve just been working and working cause I figure if the energy stops for a second,” you snap, “it starts to shut again but clearly it’s large enough for the Mind Flayer to have gotten through.”

“We think the Mind Flayer might have been here all along.” You look up and Jonathan’s stepping forward. He has an arm around his waist and his other hand picking at his lips. You smile softly at his cracking voice…but you smile even wider (begrudgingly) at Steve.

“Oh great.” He presses the peas deeper into his face. “Is this ever gonna end?”

You shrug. “Space race dude. Doesn’t matter if they destroy the entire world while they’re at it. Gotta show off.” You two chuckle together.

When you look up, the whole group is wide-eyes at you.

You deflate. “What?”

Nancy chuckles, smirking. “Well, what is this?”

You and Steve look at each other. You speak in unison, “What is what?” Everybody goes a little crazy. Laughing, covering their mouths, letting their jaws drop. Jonathan’s enthusiasm is much less…but he’s still soft about it, smiling at you two in a proud way.

Nancy tilts her head. “The King and Queen are actually getting along? I wouldn’t have bet you two like each other in 50 years even if high school me saw this for herself…what happened to you?”

Robin shrugs. “Eh, having the shared trauma or horrible customers and horrible costumes.” You nod. “And like, the mediocre experience of being captured and tortured by Russians underground I’d figure does that to you.” 

You nod again, smiling at her. 

The laughing stops when there’s a faint screeching in the distance…it’s not high-pitched or squeaky. It’s low and followed by rumbling.

Everybody else seems to let it go somewhat, but you, Jonathan, Steve, and Nancy snap your heads toward the window.

The trees are rustling. 

You instinctively look at Jonathan, and in that moment you take your hand from Steve. You and Jonathan stand together behind Nancy.

“Do you guys hear that?” She whispers. 

You hum but Jonathan tries to convince himself that “It’s just the fireworks.” You look at him closely, and frown at the red bruise and subsequent cut on the left side of his forehead. You pad at it gently, and he jumps but accepts it, furrowing his brows at your similar cuts And then like that you look back to the window when another rustle is seen and heard.

Nancy turns to the kids. “Billy.” She nods at El. “When he told you this, it was here, in this room?” El nods. Nancy looks at Jonathan and you, even Steve when he jumps from the couch and looks around for that distant thudding.

Will (with a shaky hand) reaches for his neck. He chokes on his own breath. “He knows we’re here.”

You ‘adults’ look at each other again, and rush to the door. Jonathan opens it first and when you think to go ahead of him he holds you back. And when you think to go ahead of Steve, he grabs your hand and keeps you near him.

It’s nothing. 

Really. 

You stand together on the dirt road. Just a short distance back is Steve’s car. But just a short distance for the Mind Flayer in its new form is what’s between it and you, it’s spider-like features and its length, width is enough to make the thin trees around it snap and tumble. Despite not needing to, it purposely pushes itself side to side to knock down the thicker trees. 

Steve puts a hand to the small of your back, and likewise, Jonathan puts his hand on Nancy’s shoulders. Both boys usher you two inside with Jonathan staying back to hurry up the kids he’s spent most of his time with, and with Steve staying back to hurry up the kids (and Robin) he’s spent most of his time with. 

Before you get inside completely, you quickly reach for the side of the stairs where you find an axe. You force it out of the stump it’s in and as soon as you get it free, Steve tugs you inside. 

But despite the effort, you shove the axe (the handle) into Jonathan’s chest. He grunts with the weight, you shout a “Sorry!” and continue on while the others begin their routine — barricading.

Your palms are against the table as you try to think when you hear the back door open and see Nancy walking out. You hold a hand to Steve’s chest so he won’t come after you, saying “Stay!” As well as twirling your finger around to gesture the great need of the current room. 

You jog outside and watch her take a shotgun off a wall in Hopper’s shed.

“Hey!” You raise a hand when you’re not too far, and without thinking, she tosses you one. You fumble to catch it and manage (barely), but when she sees you looking at the tool completely bewildered, she hands you hers, already set up with bullets and everything.

“You know how to use that thing?”

“Uh,” you sputter, “N-no?” 

She cracks a smile and walks past you, quipping “Aim and pull the trigger.”

You wince and suddenly hold it with one hand, aiming it away from you. After a moment when you realize the stakes, you say ‘screw it’ to yourself and hold it closer, hold it proper. 

You kick the door shut behind you. Everything’s barricaded.

You stand by her, Jonathan, Robin (with a bat she found in the closet) and Steve, your backs shielding the kiddos stood in the middle of you. You mimic her, holding up your gun like she does and squinting to try and get an idea of aim. She nods, mutters “Good,” and admittedly boosts your ego a bit. 

You roll your shoulders, fwip your hanging pony over your shoulder with a flick of your neck…and wait.

It’s silent.

An eerie, uncomfortable silence.

Jonathan is letting the axe hop in his hands, switching their exact position to avoid his sweaty hands letting the wood become all slippery. 

Then the lamps begin to shiver, and the electricity in the room begins to crackle. 

Steve’s done his best and found himself a frying pan as well as the other children with makeshift weapons.

“It’s close,” Will says in the silence.

And then dust falls on you from the roof. 

You squint at it, hearing branches snap, seeing the trees rustle, feeling even the small mass of the falling teacups send waves of rumbling through the floor.

Max looks over her shoulder. “Where’d it go?”

She’s right…too silent.

Nancy inhales sharp, and you do too. 

In that moment one of the creature’s freakish arms tears through the cabin’s corner, and despite the little shield you guys made for the others, the group disperses as it shoots forward and straight toward Eleven. You did your best to be close to her, Max, and Will, shielding them against the wall but still the creature gets in her face and your arm throw out past her stomach isn’t stopping it from doing anything.

But Jonathan grunts and swings down his axe, splitting the creature’s top surface and splattering himself with the flayer’s mucus-like goo. He raises it up again and chops it. The flayer reels back, shrieking and trying to go for Eleven again, only to be hit and with another shriek it enacts vengeance, whipping itself against Jonathan and sending him crashing into the wall and the ground. He drops his axe and just as he starts to get up again, the creature still goes for him. Jonathan tries getting up but can only back into the wall. And your heart hurts like a son of a bitch at the picture.

Hurray for Nancy who steps in and shoots the thing, blood splattering on the carpet as it rounds to attack her.

She’s out of bullets.

“Shit!” She shouts, still trying to pull the trigger.

You feel like you’re just standing there, useless and hopping between your feet. With an annoyed grunt, you shout “Nancy!” And dare to throw her your gun. She catches it just as the creature is feet from getting right in her face. She shoots it in the mouth and it actually reels back this time and for a long time. You look frantically between it, Jonathan, and Nancy. 

The axe.

You run and slide (much to the pain of splinters and rug-burn in your bare feet), ducking under the creature and grabbing Jonathan’s axe. He’s still dealing with the incredible pain in his back, and he can only watch you bring the axe down on it some more. It’s so, so close to just about snapping in half and you can see the last bits of its tearing, gooey membrane. 

But when your arms are in the air it snaps its neck to look, and rushes for you. 

Jonathan feels just as you did moments ago. But with such close proximity, he wills himself to get on his feet just well enough to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you onto the floor in the corner with him. He holds you tight, arms finding their way to your chest as you slide down together. Your eyes are wide at the creature. 

Another shot is heard.

Nancy’s shot it. And when it does that same thing (whipping to look at her with his mouth of horrid teeth), Steve steps in pulls her from her corner just as the creature smashes itself into the wall. But when it gets back its energy and reels away from the two ready to attack again, Nancy’s gun again won’t shoot. 

You clap your hand over Jonathan’s wrist, and he can feel you squeeze. 

Nancy and Steve flinch. They’re ready.

They pop their eyes open, carnage evidently not taking place yet despite the creature’s intent and it’s screeching. You slap Jonathan’s arm, and together you gasp with joy seeing Eleven standing in the middle of the room, her arm stretched out and fingers tensing as she wills the creature away from Nancy. Her calm expression vanishes as she twists her wrist and pulls her elbow into herself, the creature snapping right where its ‘head’ would begin and El screaming when she gets the job done. Part of it flops onto the floor in a puddle of its own blood and mucus-like texture, and the other half shrieks before haphazardly pulling itself out of the cabin through the hole it came in. 

Max yelps as it flies out right beside her. 

You close your eyes and breath a sigh, Jonathan hugging you a little softer now and putting his forehead to your shoulder as you relish in the relief. 

But, reminded of the situations at hand, you both get up, helping one another. You go and grab Max, dragging her away from the window and you’re met by Steve, who in turn shields both of you and guides you away. Jonathan tries going for the others but that bit of energy he spent on you is gone now and he can’t ignore his fatigue or pain. He grips onto the wall but falls to his knees.

Through the wall where Steve was just about to guide you two, in comes another one of the Mind Flayer’s arm-creatures. You all yell and flinch, Steve pulling you two back and making sure to keep his head down when he’s reminded of the giant hole in the wall where the creature just came through that last time.

You make your way to Jonathan, sprinting while knelt. 

You grab his hand and try to help him up, Steve coming to the other side of him. 

Thanks to El, they’re stopped mid air, both of her arms occupied with keeping hold of the creatures. With heavy breathes and panting, and with a triumphant yell, she pulls her arms to her stomach and again splits them in half. 

While everything is silent and steady for a second, your stomach is still aching and you get up. 

Steve and Jonathan reach for you (Max too), with Jonathan better suited for your waist and Steve better suited for your shoulder. But you break from their grasp. They can’t shout their disapproval on account of how selfish that would seem with El being in the middle of the room doing all of the fighting. They can only huff to themselves and give a similar look of worry, though one also filled with contempt and jealousy for the other.

Jonathan has no romantic feelings. Not anymore at least. Steve wouldn’t admit he does, but he does. Still, their conflict at your varying degrees of closeness is what catches up to them. With you finding Jonathan and his outcast persona so fascinating from a young age, and being able to bond with Steve over the high school hierarchy and sharing a pack of kids. 

You start off knelt but come to stand fully, grabbing El by the shoulders and pushing her out of the way.

They don’t know why…by you looked up at the ceiling and saw more specks of dust. This creature is smart and wouldn’t make the same mistake of going through the walls or windows four times. 

You try to guide her forward, go with her.

But you scream = as the ceiling breaks open and the Mind Flayer wraps around your ankle. Your poor, bare ankle. Its flesh burns against yours and while being caught you slam your chin slams against the hardwood floor.

It roars and shrieks and so does everybody else, Jonathan keeping himself stable on a hopping foot and Mike and El jumping forward together to grab your arms and try desperately to pull you.

Mike’s completely out of his head about now, wanting to help you but (like you) wanting to get El out of the monster’s reach. He closes his eyes while mustering all his strength, and you can’t help but look up (in a disorienting manner) at the thing trying to eat you. 

Jonathan and Steve jump in next — Steve sharing an arm with El, Jonathan staring an arm with Mike. And then comes Max and Will — Max with Steve and El, Will with Jonathan and Mike. 

Mike and Will both open their eyes at the same time and look straight at the creature. Mike whimpers and forces his eyes shut again, muttering himself a mantra so he can get his damn strength and not have to watch his pseudo-older sister get eaten by this fucking monster.

His grip weakens for just a moment to readjust, and he yells “PULL!” the group collectively putting together strength they didn’t even know they could muster.

Nancy loads up her gun again, Jonathan shouting “NANCY! SHOOT IT!”

She manages and it snarls in pain.

“COME ON LUCAS!” Max yells for him.

He doesn’t know where to go or what to do. Robin points him toward the axe, and she runs and picks it up for him while she does. She hands it over and grabs the other gun, struggling to load it but managing well enough. Her aim isn’t the best but she lowers the gun with a wide, goofy smile on her face when she swears she hears it groan in response to her. Then she goes at it again. 

Lucas hops up onto the ottoman and screams as he hacks at the limb. Dustin, with not much more room available to hold onto your arm, keeps watch of Erica while running around the room screaming trying to find something to chuck into the creature’s jaws. He manages to chuck a few things he’s sure Hopper won’t miss (an ashtray, notably) but it doesn’t do all that much.

You’re still struggling and flailing, your breath after a point being so lost you can only breathe and ‘scream’ via deep exhales. 

Lucas starts to get frustrated, seeing progress but not as much as he would like. He hypes himself up, hopping between his feet on the ottoman, and gives the final blow his best shot.

He raises the axe behind his head, stumbles a bit before gaining his balance, then hacks the creature straight in half.

It screams and flails, the mouth inhaling part of itself before the sight of it through the ceiling flees and you fall forward. 

Steve catches you in his arms as everybody’s feet are pulled under themselves and they fall to the floor. Steve rolls on his side, holding you close and trying to coo you to comfort while wiping the sweat, mucus, and blood from your forehead. You would be so lovey-dovey, hugging him tight and chuckling madly in relief but still, the best you can do is laugh silently and even smiling is a chore. 

You collapse into his chest, your hand limp on his cheek and eyes bobbing to the back of your head before coming back around with every rumble of the house as the Mind Flayer does what it does.

The kids are all kneeling around you and Jonathan gently pushes Will and Mike apart so he can too. He puts his hands on the floor by your stomach. The slightest snap of a twig has him looking over his shoulder, and the slight ruffle of Lucas’ jeans on the carpet has him looking at him.

You can feel Steve press quick pecks to your face. He really doesn’t put much thought into them, but when he realizes, he can only be thankful he has the opportunity. 

Mike’s eyes go to your leg, where the other half of the creature is still stuck tight, nearly embedded.

He hypes himself up, bouncing on his feet before hopping up and running over. He gets a strong grip around it (as best as he can considering its slippery skin), and though Jonathan and Steve both spit out slurred “Wait Don’t!”s, Mike pulls it off and your let spurts blood.

You will yourself up off the floor just a tiny bit as you scream, neck craning back and eyes sticking shut with the pain. 

Mike winces at the sound, and after chucking the creature behind him (where it slithers out of the cabin) he hurries to your side, hovering his hands over your stomach and hoping for you to see his face so you can see just how sorry he is but how necessary that was.

Then the Mind Flayer, and Eleven hurriedly gestures Mike, Jonathan, and Steve to drag you off. Will stays behind Jonathan and Max and Lucas stay behind Mike, with Nancy, Dustin, Robin, and Erica assisting in hyping up El as she stands strong below the creature that burst through with the intent to kill her.

She raises her chin this time, not shying away, and she plants her feet. 

Jonathan holds onto Mike’s shoulder and pulls him back, the both of them looking between you and El with worry. 

The creature roars, its saliva splattering against all of you.

But even with this (Jonathan now shielding Mike, you, and Will while Steve cradles your head in his lap), she doesn’t flinch. She raises both arms close together and screams at the top of her lungs, her powers already proving themselves faster than they ever have before as the creature’s head starts to close in on itself.

The display is enough to jolt you awake and you’re trying to scoot even further from it. Steve holds you tighter and coos. 

You can imagine her now and you smile all loopy at the thought of her with all her strength and blood pouring out of both nostrils. 

You’re satisfied seeing the creature already begin to let free a pink liquid.

And you cackle despite being breathless when El rips it in two at the end with a blood-curdling scream.

She falls back into Max, and by now with Steve and Nancy helping you to your feet, you can reach just enough to hug El somewhat tight before you’re pulled apart and everybody starts to rush out of the cabin.

“Go go go!” Nancy yells. She takes your arm from around her shoulder and gives Robin the job. Jonathan holds the door open, doing copious double takes to make sure everybody is out of the cabin. 

Most of the group run to the Jeep.

But already knowing trying to get everybody to fit will be a hell of a hassle, Steve shouts for Robin, Dustin, and Erica to follow him “This way!” Back to his car. 

Jonathan stomps his foot against the dirt and screams “WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!” 

Dustin yells back while hurrying backwards, “WE CAN’T FIT! WE’LL MEET YOU THERE!”

Jonathan looks so pained. He sees Steve pick you up while Robin grabs Erica’s hand. “WHERE?!”

“STARCOURT!” Dustin screams. Then runs. 

“JONATHAN, COME ON!” Nancy’s poking her head out the driver’s seat of the car. 

Jonathan mutters to himself. Even to him, it’s incoherent. He walks backward to the car, and only when he sees the Mind Flayer descend upon the cabin and tear it to pieces does he hurry into the car, Nancy hitting the gas before he even gets the chance to buckle. 

(Message me if you would like to be tagged whenever I post a Steve imagine!)

@stevieharrrr @songforhema @broadwayandnetflix @billyhargrovescigarette @bckysloki @christinawxxx @timeladygallifrey

[malereader-inserts]

Playing Dangerous

Fandom: Gotham Pairing: Edward Nygma x Male!Reader Summary: Edward was new to the whole side of him, he wanted someone with experience to show him the ropes, even if that person likes playing dirty and dangerous. Word Count: 1,600 Request: Can you do one for all of Gotham and one for Jim Gordon and Edward Nygma? A/n: After a long thought, I don’t think I will be doing the Jim Gordon request, sorry, hope you don’t mind! Want to support me? Kofi!

“Morning,”

Edward jumped out of skin upon hearing your low rough morning voice in the kitchen. He turns around to see you half-awake, leaning your back against the kitchen island with you only in your sweatpants as you take a sip of your coffee.

“Earth to Nygma,” You says, clearing your throat, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“Hi, yes, morning,” Edward replies, nodding, his eyes flickering down to your body and then back to your face.

You smiled at him, a tired smile and very charming. Edward takes a deep breath as he moves past you to find himself a mug for himself and for Oswald. The silence between you was comfortable in your opinion but it was making Edward nervous since he was still new to all the murdering, you were out here chilling even if you’ve murdered more than he can count on his fingers and toes.

“He takes it black with two sugars,” You advised him, finally fully awake, “Truth be told, Oswald isn’t a fan of coffee he prefers tea. I don’t know why he takes coffee so strong in the first place.”

“Tea for Oswald, I’ll keep that in mind,” Edward nods as he grabs the tea bag from the overhead cupboard, “And how does he take his tea?”

“Two sugars and a bit of milk,” You responded, washing your mug and leaning over Ed to whisper in his ear, “Don’t mess it up, pretty boy.”

Edward shivers, he feels much more nervous in your presence but when you’re breathing down his neck he can’t help but freeze. He doesn’t realise that he’s been holding his breath until you had fully left the kitchen.

He lets the breath out, slow and low. He looks down at the mugs and couldn’t help wonder why you’ve got him like that.

So, when he brings Oswald his tea, who’s eyes light up see tea and not coffee, Edward couldn’t help but ask about you.

“Oh, (Y/n)?” Oswald tilts his head with crooked eyebrows, he smiles and lets out an amused chuckle, “A real charmer, it’s terrifying.”

“Yeah, met him this morning in the kitchen.”

Oswald nods, “Ah, yes, well, he crashes here when he’s too tired to go back home or when he’s bored. I can’t say no because he scares me a bit,” Oswald looks apprehensive at the confession as if you were going to jump out from the shadows in the room.

“He made a real impression this morning, I don’t know what to think.”

“Don’t think,” Oswald warns, “He’ll prey, he’ll make you think and think, finds your weakness and then he pounces. It’s why Arkham couldn’t even touch him - he’s too smart for most people.”

“Smarter than me?”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Edward, I advise you not as your best friend who cares about your life - I know that man, he’s much more dangerous than he lets on.”

Edward doesn’t see you for the next few days, in fact, he almost forgets you and your little interaction in the kitchen. That was until he was stress about Oswald’s position as mayor and wanted some peace and quiet. He saw a figure lean against his desk and felt eyes staring at him.

“Stress Nygma?” 

His head shot up from his hands upon your voice, you stare him down with an easy smile. If the press was supposed to burst into the office, they would say you were a pleasant-looking man.

“Uh,”

“Come on, Nygma, if you want to be an aspiring villain in Gotham you got to show confidence, where’s the other guy I saw strolling around the house as if you owned the place?”

You were right, Edward was Edward, not dorky Ed back working for the police of Gotham. He was against the police, he straightens his back and nods, agreeing with you as your eyes light up.

“There he is,” You jazzed hands, almost poking his eye out.

“How do you know me?” Edward finally asked, looking up at you, trying to keep his breathing elevated around you but god when you smile, he can’t help but choke up just a little bit.

“You’re not using your eyes, Nygma, see you pique my interest... in a good, not murderous way,” Your chest rise and fall, as you move around the desk.

You played with a few of his desk toys before firmly slamming both your hands on the desk. Leaning over as Edward’s breathing hitched, you were so close to him he could smell you, the blood, the gasoline, the smoke.

“A pretty boy who’s caught my eyes,” You hummed, low and husky, Edward clears his throat, as you chuckled - pulling back and send him a wink before leaving him with an unanswered question.

Now, the nervousness around you was quickly changing into excitement, Edward was excited to see you mingle around the manor, judging Oswald’s choices. Edward got excited when he hears your voice arguing with Oswald and god, Edward got turned on when you threaten Butch or Victor. 

You whistled, “Pretty boy.”

Edward looks up and turns to the direction of you, Oswald clenched his jaw to see you call Edward’s attention just like a dog. Oswald’s eyes were seething as you had made two interaction with Edward like it was nothing to wrap him around your pinkie.

“See you around,” You say, as Edward smiles.

Over the days, Edward he got increasingly confident, stumbling on a girl who looked exactly like his ex-girlfriend, and instead of taking her out on a date. He did anything to impress you, that means murdering an innocent woman because of the likeness of his ex.

When you leave, Oswald slams his hand on the table, “Edward, what are you doing?”

“Saying goodbye to (Y/n)?”

“Can’t you see?” Oswald limps closer and grabs the man’s wrist, “He’s playing you, he doesn’t like you in that way.”

Edward scoffs, a little bitter laughter escapes him, shaking his head, “You’re wrong.”

“Edward, as your best friend, he’s playing dangerous! I know (Y/n) longer than two conversations, you will get yourself killed.”

“That’s not true, Oswald!” Edward scrapes his chair and stood up at full height, “He just wants what’s best for me.”

“He’s not mentoring you, I am!”

Edward rolls his eyes as Oswald sighs in frustration, limping out the room to cool himself off. Edward’s eyes linger where you once stood, he had noticed minutes before your departure that you were reading a book as you lean against the bookshelf. 

Whilst minding your own business, mocking and jesting the major of Gotham, he noticed how you took out a pen and wrote something within the pages of the books. You turned to face the bookshelves, hiding where you placed the book back in the bookshelf before bidding your goodbye.

Edward looks back at the door to where Oswald had disappeared through before making his way to the bookshelf, situating himself where you once stood. His fingers wiggled at the wide selection of books on the shelves, wondering what you have picked up.

Old-time classics as his eyes quickly skim the titles before his eyes catch one title: “Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde,” You were definitely calling him out on his whole demeanour. You found symbolism in the book to reflect Edward. 

He flickers the book open, hoping to find what your messy scrawl would look like, only to be within the first couple of pages. It was a number, fishing out his phone to quickly dial the number.

“You’re quick,” Your voice responds almost instantly, no greetings as such.

“I’m observant.”

“Hmh,” You say, dismissing him despite Edward being proud of developing his observant skill, “Read to me, Nygma, the words next to the numbers.”

Edward could hear you walking down the busy roads of Gotham, the beeping of cars and people going about their day unknowingly passing a possible psychopath. 

Edward clears his throat, “All human beings, as we meet them, are commingled out of good and evil: and Edward Hyde, alone, in the ranks of mankind, was pure evil.”

“That’s right, Nygma, could you possibly hold up to that namesake?” There was no teasing it was a dark challenge from you, voice as ice.

“I could,” Edward answers, clutching the book as he stares at the door, warily in case Oswald comes back in.

“Good, pretty boy,” You say, very condescending, “Say, we go out for dinner tonight, as a date, just you and me - we talk business, we talk about us.”

“Like Bonnie and Clyde?”

There was an exhausted sigh from your end, “Better than those two,” You say, obviously disgusted at the comparison, “What do you say, Nygma?”

“You know, I do have a name.”

“I’m aware, but, I have to make sure I’m not speaking to Ed or Eddie. I’m speaking to Edward Nygma and Edward only,” Your voice dropped lower, intimidating, “Dating me is a dangerous game, Nygma, I could show you things unimaginable.”

“I would do anything for that.”

“Anything?” You asked a slight drawl to your tone.

“Anything.”

“Okay,” You suspended.

Edward felt shivers down his spine, he could hear your breathing on the line, it was somewhat hot and somewhat terrifying. He wanted to know you, he wanted to know what it feels like against your skin. Dating you may be dangerous but it would be oh-so-thrilling. What shocks him is what you request for him to do, what he has to prove that he is willing to get everything you can offer. 

“Kill Oswald Cobblepot.”

[jackryanfanfic]

aftermath | missing scene [1x08]

pairing | Jack Ryan x Cathy Muller, Jack/Greer (friendship)

genre | h/c, mild angst

warnings | blood, flashbacks, PTSD

word count | 3,000

summary: In the aftermath of 1x08 Jack relies on the two people he trusts most.

[Ryan]

I close my eyes and let my pounding head rest against the cool wall of the subway station. An EMT prods at the hole in my shoulder as the buzz of voices slices through my numb mind, making it even harder to think.

A  gunshot. Suleiman hits the ground, blood blooming from beneath him.

A hand thunks on my good shoulder, and my eyes fly open, the flashback gone as suddenly as it appeared.

“Good work today, Ryan.” Nathan Singer’s voice is too loud and friendly, and the series of sound slaps he gives my right shoulder sends jarring pain through my left. “You did your country proud.”

My jaw clenches. I just killed a man.

“Excuse me, sir…” The EMT ushers him away, and I sigh with relief, my eyes falling closed again.

Ali staggers and falls, confusion written on his face. He looks at me. Tears leave tracks in the blood on his cheeks. His breath rattles in his lungs, and he goes slack.

The EMT grasps the collar of my shirt, and the chill flat of the scissors sends a shudder through me.

Sayim smiles, aiming his Polaroid at me. Flash.

“Try to sit still, Doc.”

Sayim holds up the grenade, peering at me from beneath dirty hair. He pulls the pin. There’s a bright light, and then pain. The woman in the next seat goes limp against me. Blood pours down Sayim’s face. I can’t breathe, and we fall.

A cellphone rings nearby. I open my eyes. The network must be back up.

Before I have time to finish the thought, my phone explodes with text alerts in my back pocket.

Cathy.

Interrupted once more, the EMT grunts in disapproval as I fish painfully in my jeans for the phone. “Can this wait, Dr. Ryan? I need to stop the bleeding.”

“No,” I glance at him. “Sorry.” I give the barrage of texts a quick scan.

9:03: Are you ok???

9:04: Jack?

9:06: Where are you??

9:17: Jack

9:20: Let me know you’re ok

I punch her number and bring the phone to my ear.

The EMT frowns. “Dr. Ryan–”

“Two minutes.”

Halfway through the second ring, she picks up.

“Jack??”

I let out the breath I was unknowingly holding. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Are you okay? Are you safe?”

“I’m–yeah, uh, I’m fine. I’m okay.”

Relief makes me dizzy. “Yeah??”

“Yeah. I’m okay. Just, uh…Long night at work.”

I can’t help the smirk as I huff in response. “No kidding.”

“Are you okay?” Her voice is serious again.

“I’m fine.” The EMT shoots me an incredulous look. “Relatively,” I amend.

“Jack, what’s going on?”

I sigh. The last of the adrenaline seems to drain from my veins, and I’m exhausted. “I can’t tell you that, Cathy. At least–not yet.” My eyes drift to the corpse of Mousa Bin Suleiman, sprawled in a puddle of his own congealing blood. “But I can tell you that it’s over.”

A beat.

“Okay. That’s good enough for me.”

I groan, shooting a glare at the ceiling. The lights glare back. I close my eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Buster was right. You are too good for me.”

She laughs.

I frown. I wasn’t trying to be funny.

The EMT clears his throat. Right.

“Hey, uh, I’ve gotta go,” I say.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. See you soon?”

“Yeah.”

“Jack?” Her voice is tentative.

“Yeah?”

A beat.

“I - nothing. Just…take care of yourself, okay?” Her voice is soft.

A smile tugs at my lips. “I’ll do my best. Talk soon.”

“Okay.” The line goes dead.

“Like that’s ever been good enough.”

I turn to see Greer standing by the gurney, appraising me skeptically. I realize that if Greer was able to hear Cathy’s admonishment, the EMT must have heard the whole conversation.

I surprise myself by not caring.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” My voice comes out sounding flat.

He grunts. “I read up on you, Bright Boy. Wanna talk about the helicopter crash, of which you were the only survivor, and barely that? Or maybe the ULA attack in London, in which you got shot being an idiot, Sir Jack? The first time I saw you, you were about an inch shy of getting flattened by my car, and the first time I take you out in the field you get yourself kicked into the 22nd century by a couple of trigger-happy terrorists. Now you’re sitting on a gurney with a hole in your shoulder and the nerve to ask me what I mean?” He pauses for air. “It’s a wonder you’re even still breathing, Ryan.”

I blink. “Oh,” I offer.

“Uh-huh.” Greer glances at the EMT, now applying a local anesthetic. “He gonna be okay?”

The EMT nods. “Bleeding’s stopped. Just gonna stitch him up and sling him up, and he can be on his merry way. Provided that way leads to some place he can get some rest.” He looks at me pointedly.

“Won’t get any arguments from me.” I want nothing more than to collapse into my bed.

As if on cue, Singer’s aide materializes at Greer’s side, muttering something in his ear.

Greer sighs. “Yeah, yeah. Give the man a minute to breathe.” He looks at me almost apologetically.

I groan. Of course debriefing would come before sleep.

—————————————————————————————————-

[Greer]

Two hours in, and Ryan’s beginning to droop. As if the kid ain’t white enough already, his face has grown alarmingly pale, exaggerating the dark blotches rimming his bloodshot eyes.

“Okay, Ryan,” Singer glances up before returning to the notes he’s scribbling. “And how did you know they were going to hit the hospital?”

“It was the only thing that made sense.” He drags his hand over his face. “That diner… From a strategic standpoint, there was no reason for bombing that diner unless it was a set up to something bigger. And with the President and who knows how many other members of Congress at the hospital…” He trails off.

“He did the same thing in France,” I assert, “when he took out that priest. A small scale target to provide cover and opportunity for the bigger goal.”

Singer nods, never looking up. He’s been ignoring me as much as possible over the last couple hours. I roll my eyes.

“And how long were you at the scene before you put this together and made for the hospital?” A pause. “Ryan.”

When Ryan doesn’t answer, I look at him. His eyes are lifted, unblinking, skyward. I follow his gaze to the spinning blades of the ceiling fan above Singer’s desk. He shudders. Newspaper photos of a wrecked chopper run through my memory, and I connect the dots.

“We didn’t stop,” I answer quickly. “He figured it out on the way.”

“Mhmm. Am I boring you, Dr. Ryan?”

Ryan’s gaze swivels back to Singer. “What? Uh, no, I–” he glances at me, “–sorry, sir, what was the question?”

Singer inhales.

“Listen, sir, it’s getting late.” I check my watch before meeting his beady eyes. “Or early. What do you say we let the man get some rest, and finish this up tomorrow?” I’m not exactly brimming with energy either.

Singer offers an overly regretful smile. “You know procedure. Memory’s fresher directly after an incident. Afterwards, it all gets jumbled.” He waves his hand for emphasis.

“Singer, there’s nothing remotely fresh about Dr. Ryan right now. Man did good. Not to mention, he took a bullet. I think he’s earned a little sleep.”

Singer looks at Ryan.

Ryan blinks sluggishly. “I’m okay.” I think it may be the first time I’ve heard a word from him that isn’t backed with all the conviction in him.

Singer sighs. “Okay, Jim. You win. Get some rest, gentlemen; I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”

Jack and I mumble our thanks and make our way to the elevator.

I hit the button for the first floor as Jack gingerly leans against the wall, emitting a sigh that sounds like it comes from his bones.

Huh. I smirk a little. For all the grief I gave the man in the beginning, he’s earned my respect, and…

I look at him. His head rests aganst the panelling of the elevator, eyes closed. I turn the matter over in my head for a minute longer before reaching my conclusion.

Yes, Jack Ryan, the analyst from the first floor with a Ph.D. in economics of all things, has earned not only my respect, but my trust as well.

I realize that he’s the only one who fits that description right now. Kid’s too good for his own good. He’s seen the worst the world has to offer, and he still reaches out to offer aid and defense.

I know that kind of idealism won’t last long in this line of work. Mine didn’t. The sooner he wises up the better–optimism is all good and well, but in this job… I shake my head. It’s gonna get him killed.

Still. A pang of regret washes through me.

The day Jack Ryan loses his idealism will be a day the world loses something it sorely needs.

A sniffle interrupts my musing.

I look up to see Ryan smearing tears from his eyes with the heel of his (still somewhat bloody) right hand.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What’s up?” Before I know it, I’m at his side, turning him to check his shoulder. “Talk to me, Ryan.”

“No, it’s–I’m fine.” He swats my hand away. “I don’t know–” his breath hitches. “Ah, I don’t know what this is.” He tries for a deep breath.

I consider him for a moment. He appears to be physically fine.

Well, you know. Mostly.

Exhaustion, I figure. Yet another downside to such lofty ideals is the mental and emotional toll that comes with investing everything you’ve got.

He’s got himself mostly under control now, which is fortunate, because the elevator dings and the doors slide open.

“Alright, Bright Boy. Let’s get you to a car.”

He runs a hand over his face and nods.

We make our way, slowly, across the lobby to yet another elevator, this one leading to the parking garage. A receptionist takes in Jack’s disheveled appearance, starting at his sling and making her way past his cut and bloody shirt to his red, swollen eyes.

I level her with the best threatening glare I can muster at the moment. Her eyes retreat back to her computer screen, and the elevator doors whir closed.

When we get to my car, I pop the trunk, rummaging around until I find what I need. Ah. I pull the old beach towel out and make my way over to the passenger side.

Jack frowns. “Planning a beach trip?”

“Nah, this is for when I have to haul bullet-ridden white boys around in my car.” I lean inside, arranging the towel over the seat’s back. “It’s hard to explain away bloodstains to people who think I’m a retired Naval officer.”

“Greer,” he starts.

“Come on.” I straighten with a grunt. “Did you actually think I was gonna let you try to drive yourself home? Get in the car.”

I’m surprised at his lack of protest as he eases himself in. I get in my own seat and start the car.

“Greer.”

I turn to look at him.

“Thanks.”

“You got it, Ryan. Anytime.” I meet his eyes. My meaning goes deeper than my words, and I want to make sure he gets that.

He looks at me for a moment, then nods.

We drive in silence for a while, the city lights flashing past us in the night.

“Lobsters? Really?” Ryan says eventually. He jerks his head in the general direction of the towel.

I shrug. “The other option was Hello Kitty.”

“Hm. Good choice.”

Thirty-seven miles later, we pull up in front of Ryan’s apartment building. Not long after we left Langley, Ryan had closed his eyes, and not long after that, his breathing had evened out in sleep.

Pulling the key from the ignition, I consider the situation for a moment. Ryan’s face is smashed into his good shoulder, head against the window. I wince just thinking about the cricks he’ll have tomorrow.

Then again, I think, eyeing his sling, cricks will be the least of his problems.

“C'mon, Sleeping Beauty. Let’s get you inside.”

Nothing.

“Ryan.”

He jerks, eyes opening sluggishly. He takes in his surroundings. “How do you know where I live?” He slurs.

I almost laugh. “Son, we work for the CIA.”

He blinks. “Oh.”

Shaking my head, I climb out of my seat. I cross to the passenger side and open the door. As Ryan fumbles with his seatbelt, I give the neighborhood a once-over. Apart from the distant barking of a dog, all was quiet. You’d think tonight had been a night just like any other.

Finally winning the battle with his seatbelt, Ryan swings his feet onto the pavement and accepts my proffered hand. Between my haul and his launch, he comes up too quickly, crying out when his shoulder smacks into my chest.

“Easy, easy.” I do my best to steady him, but when he can’t find sure footing I swing his good arm over my shoulder and wrap my arm around his middle. I shift his weight around a bit. “You know, you’re heavier than you look, Ryan,” I grunt.

“Sorry.”

The trip to the door takes way longer than it should, and we’re both out of breath by the time we make it and remember that we’re gonna need a key. I stand there, sweating, as Ryan drunkenly shuffles around in his pockets.

When at last we step into the dark hall, I think my back may never fully straighten again, and Ryan is nearly dead weight.

“Where’s your room, Jack?” I jostle him a bit. “Jack.”

“Hmm?”

“If you don’t tell me where your room is now, I’m going to drop you on the couch and leave you there.”

He tries to point, but it turns out as more of a spasm. I realize his arm must be asleep from the way it’s been pulled over my shoulders. “There,” he tries again, nodding his head towards a doorway in what looks to be a dining-room-turned-office.

Staggering into the room, I free a hand with difficulty and smack along the wall until I find the light switch. From there, it’s three clumsy steps to the bed, where I deposit Jack with a less than graceful flail. I lift his feet onto the bed, pull off his shoes, and plop, panting, on the edge.

When I’ve caught my breath, I turn my attention to Ryan once more. He’s out like a light, but his position looks to be about six different levels of uncomfortable, and as I eye the bandage on his shoulder, it occurs to me that leaving the man in his filthy, blood-crusted shirt probably isn’t the healthiest option.

I heave a sigh and go in search of a pair of scissors. I don’t have to go far–there’s one on the dining room/office table.

I consider the best way to go about the business. Each option involves a fair amount of jostling, and eventually I decide the best plan is to cut the shirt straight down the front and go from there. Ryan stirs as I work it off his right arm, but other than that, my progress goes uninhibited until I make my way to the sling. I curse. How am I supposed to get it around that thing??

After what feels like a long struggle, I successfully complete my task and toss the shirt–now in three pieces–into the nearby trash can. Hope you weren’t partial to that one.

I drag myself to my feet once more and do my best to get Ryan into a position that won’t result in an unscheduled trip to the chiropractor. His pale skin is uncomfortably cool and clammy. Once his head is on the pillow and the rest of him looks reasonably comfortable, I drag the comforter out from under him, desperately wishing I’d thought of that before I put him down. I spread it over him and step back to survey my work.

I sigh in satisfaction. He looks comfortable.

I suddenly become aware of how uncomfortable I am. Exhaustion pulls at my eyelids, my head aches, and my back is cramping from my burden of earlier. I want nothing more than sleep. And my bed is very far away.

Ryan’s couch, on the other hand…

I weigh the idea for a moment.

Then Jack tosses suddenly, a low moan escaping his lips. I step to his side and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay.” After a moment, he stills, and I make up my mind. No way am I leaving him alone.

I grab a blanket from the foot of Ryan’s bed and turn to go to the couch, flipping out the lights as I go.

I pause, turning back in the doorway.

He’s sleeping peacefully now, but…

I want to be where I can keep an eye on him. Apparently the couch is too far away. I spot an armchair in the corner of his room, and head in its direction.

I pause by the side of his bed.

“Ryan,” I say, knowing he can’t hear me. “If you need me, I’m here.”

I sink into the chair, put up the footrest, lean back, and close my eyes. The warmth of the blanket envelops me, and I’m asleep almost instantly.