#funny moment in cricket ground

[kids-motivation-stories]

Funny Cricket Short #Cricket #FunMoments

[tunastime]

ok ok?

Once again, Etho and Bdubs find themselves in the same predicament: navigating the complex relationships of their lives while trying to keep each other safe. However, unlike the times before, they have a little bit of a better understanding of each other. And a little more commitment to what they've made together. Or: like every time before, Etho and Bdubs have a conversation. This time, it feels good. (1584 words) (x)

The light sky is waning fast, the fringes of the horizon still orange with fading sunlight. In it, the small, deepslate keep is almost purple, the warmth of the day still held close in the humid river air and sun-warm ground. Inside, Tango is fast asleep. The sniffling breaths he takes are muffled slightly by the noise of nighttime: crickets and salmon and birds. Bdubs is among these noises as he lowers himself to the ground at the base of the keep, dropping his pack and resting against the cooling stone. He tips his head back, letting out a long, tired sigh through his teeth. 

Above him, as he widens his eyes and raises his eyebrows, he can see the beginning pinpricks of stars. He hums to himself, reaching up, eclipsing for just a moment the spread of the planets and suns he’s learned so well from stargazing. The motion feels familiar, in its own, strange way. He stares up through his fingers before he drops his hand into his lap. Bdubs shuts his eyes, letting out another slow sigh.

From beside him, Etho clears his throat. Bdubs startles, immediately cracking an eye at him, shifting around to pretend like he hadn’t just jumped. Etho snorts.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, that familiar smile to his voice and a crinkle to his eyes. Bdubs blinks his eyes open, furrowing his eyebrows as he gives Etho a quick once over. He crinkles his nose.

“You gonna nag me again?” he asks. Etho huffs out a laugh.

“Me?” he grins. “Always.”

Bdubs sighs again, slumping back against the cold deepslate tile. He rolls his eyes. 

“Alright, wise guy,” he grumbles. Then he pats the grass beside him. His hand comes back slightly dirty. Etho laughs under his breath as Bdubs waves his hand, trying to shake off the dirt before he ungracefully smears his palm onto his pant leg. After a moment, Etho sinks down beside him, letting out his own, tired sigh in relief.

“How ya feelin’?” Bdubs asks, shifting his body ever so to face Etho better. He glances over at him. Etho glances back. He raises his eyebrows and, in the fading light, looks less tired than normal. Bdubs for a brief moment wonders if it’s his doing.

“Mm?” Etho hums. “Pretty good, all things considered.”

Bdubs nods.

“Good,” he says. “I’m excited we’re together again, y’know.”

Etho snorts. He raises his eyebrows in question.

“And Tango?”

Bdubs makes a face. Duh. “A’course.”

Etho laughs again softly.

“Me too,” he says, all pleased like Bdubs had said something he found funny. Bdubs likes that tone of voice a lot. It means only good things out of Etho. Which usually meant good things for Bdubs, too. 

They lapse into a silence then, both comfortable and apprehensive. Etho fiddles with his hands, the skin of his fingers, picking at the nail beds in a show of his bad habit. Bdubs wants to grab his hands and force him to stop, as much as he kind of wants to tell him to just ask whatever question he’s holding himself back from, but Etho rolls his shoulders and settles back against the tile and seems to relax, so for a quiet moment, Bdubs watches his eyes flutter shut, and sees the pale eyelashes against his face in the rising moonlight. His chest seizes for a moment. Then Etho hums out:

“‘M sorry I forgot that one time,” he says, almost muffled through the mask he’s still wearing. “Bout the dragon.”

Bdubs blinks. He almost asks, albeit stupidly, what dragon. There’s a moment where his mouth opens and closes as he tries to remember what in the world Etho could be talking about. Dragon. Dragon. When had he fought the Ender Dragon recently? Not Hermitcraft, not this season at least. Later than that? Why would he be bringing it up now if it were something from this world? Unless he means. 

Ah.

Of course, this train of thought for Bdubs lasts only a second. And it’s in that second that he finally stammers out:

“Oh, what?” and clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Nah, Etho. Don’t—that was so long ago. Don’t you worry about that.”

“You’re not mad?” Etho asks, tilting his head over. His eyes open to peer at Bdubs. It feels like his pupil is consuming his iris, the way the dark brown and black of his good eye muddle together in the dark. It’s black like the night sky. His eyebrows furrow as he looks over Bdubs’ face. Bdubs snorts.

“Oh I was furious,” he finally says, tearing his eyes away from Etho’s face. Warmth crawls up the back of his neck. He stares at Etho’s unfolded hands, which have come to rest palm up on his knees. “But now? You think ol’ Bdubs carries grudges?”

He looks up at Etho again. Etho shrugs, looking away.

“Uh… yeah?”

Bdubs blanches.

“What! No—not with—” he stammers out. Etho pales even further, visibly swallowing. “Etho!”

‘What!” he squeaks out, spreading his hands, shoulders coming up to his ears. Bdubs swats at him, grumbling as he whacks fabric. 

“Not for you,” he huffs. Etho deflates a fraction—at least, his shoulders come down from the sides of his head. He tilts his head, eyebrows still raised questioningly.

“You sure?” he asks. Bdubs sighs.

“Yeah. Not anymore,” he says, folding his hands together, unfolding them, fidgeting with his fingers. For whatever reason, a prickle of nervousness stores away in his stomach, forcing him to swallow to try and push it around. He sighs, stretching out his hands. “We… we play these things differently. I know that now.”

Etho, from his peripheral, nods once.

“Oh…” he says, voice mellowing out. He sighs too. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

“Yeah,” Bdubs says. He reaches out after a beat, knocking his fist into Etho’s shoulder. Etho wobbles, eyes crinkling. “I missed hanging out with you.”

“You—” Etho wheezes, voice peaking suddenly in amusement. Any higher and they’ll really risk waking Tango. “You see me every day!”

“Well!” Bdubs huffs, folding his arms. “This is different!”

Etho shakes his head. The tufts of white hair being held back by his poorly tied headband come loose all at once. He sweeps them back unsuccessfully, scrunching up his face.

“I dunno Bdubs,” he argues, squinting at him. Bdubs rolls his eyes dramatically, hunkering down over his folded arms. “Feels a bit the same, don’t’cha think?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Etho shrugs, relaxing again, leaning back against the cold stone. He finally tugs his mask down and off as he settles, turning his face from where it rests against the stone to give Bdubs a once-over. He smiles and it’s all slightly crooked teeth and sharp canines and wrinkling his nose. Bdubs’ lungs squeeze painfully. 

Maybe that’s the reason that he leans forward and grabs a fistful of Etho’s shirt. Maybe it’s the reason Etho’s hand ends up on his knee, then his thigh, then his hip as Bdubs kisses him. Maybe it’s the reason he feels Etho laugh against his mouth and kiss him again. And maybe it’s the reason that Bdubs rests his forehead against his, nose against his nose bridge, and sighs the most profound breath he has in a while. The air leaves his lungs and enters warm and humid. From this close, Bdubs can see the faint beauty marks on Etho’s cheek. He smooths his hand back up Etho’s collarbone to his shoulder, flattening out his high-neck shirt, keeping his hand under the lip of his coat, under fluff and wicking fabric.

“Let’s not do something stupid this time,” Bdubs says to the point of his nose. “Okay?”

“Like what?” Etho asks. His eyes flick up. For a moment, they’re far away, fixed on a spot far from Bdubs’ dark eyes. His expression softens like he’s remembering something far too painful. Bdubs squeezes his shoulder.

He’s never gonna get that blood off his hands, is he?

“Like stupid traps,” Bdubs finally says, forcing a smile. Etho’s eyes clear just a touch, and he pulls a face.

“I’ve never made a—” Etho pauses. Then he grins. “A stupid trap.”

Bdubs rolls his eyes. It’s in this moment that he pulls away, shaking his head as Etho giggles at him. He smothers the sound with his hands, peering over at Bdubs over his fingers. It takes everything in Bdubs not to swat at him again. His face is properly warm now.

Instead, he shuffles over and makes his home at the dip of Etho’s side. He folds his arms, huffs indignantly, and presses his cheek to his shoulder. Etho makes a small squeak. He relaxes, though, and lets Bdubs lie against him for a long moment. After that moment, however, he presses his cheek to his head and says:

“I’m not gonna let you fall asleep here.”

Bdubs grumbles.

“Fine,” he says. He lets Etho untangle himself from beside him, takes both his hands when he offers to help him stand. In the slowly building moonlight, Etho and Bdubs trudge into the small deepslate fort. Etho’s hand stays in his, warm and solid. Tango still rests soundly, sprawled out on one sleeping mat at the other side of the base, tail twitching ever so in his sleep. Bdubs sighs again as he lies down next to Etho. It takes a long time for his eyes to finally close.

At least he has him now. He doesn’t want to let him go any time soon.

[sorencd]

ANYONE ELSE BUT YOU

little moments with neil that you’ll never forget. cw: the moldy peaches

you’re a part time lover and a full-time friend,

“i promise you neil, if you even think of dropping me.”

your hands held an iron-grip on your forearms which wrapped around neil’s neck, trying so hard to steady yourself with how wobbly he’s walking right now.

“i don’t know, i think i’m feeling kind of tired right now.”

he started drooping lower to the ground, his voice cracking with each step. you could feel the smirk through his words.

“neil!” you squealed, hiding your face in his neck, bracing for impact.

but instead of feeling the rough, hard ground— you felt neil standing up straight. he was also laughing.

“i hate you.”

he smiled, “i love you more.”

the monkey on your back is the latest trend.

“i think he likes me.”

neil smiled from across you, disregarding the book he was reading a second ago and started petting the stuffed-toy on his back with tenderness as if it really was alive.

“yeah, you two look the same, too.” you teased, giving the monkey a pet as well.

“haha, you’re very funny.” neil monotonously replied, but a grin still evident on his lips, “i’m taking that as a compliment.”

you laughed, amused by his reaction. you took a hold of his cheek and stretched it like your grandmother used to, “i’ve been practicing.”

“you should be a clown one day.”

i don’t see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you.

“hello? are you even listening.” your friend deadpanned, upset that you weren’t responding to a thing she was saying.

“what- i was, i mean- i am. i still am.”

she sighed, rolling her eyes with a huff. “look, i get it you’re madly in love, just don’t shove it in my face, please and thank you.”

you were fixated on neil, he was playing on the field with his friends and he just looked, surreal. he still had his hair all tidy, despite being drenched in sweat. he looked breathtaking, despite looking like an absolute mess. he also looked very kissable, too.

“why do i even bother?” your friend laughed and lightly shoved you, pulling your attention back at her.

“yeah—i agree.”

i kiss you on the brain in the shadow of the train,

the loud resounding horn of the train in the distance echoed loudly in the tree-covered valley. you and neil sat on the edge of the cliff, hand on top of the other’s, listening to the crickets chirping.

“i think getting on a train once would be nice. the view would be amazing!” you said in a soft tone, imagining the different scenery you’d be able to witness alongside neil. imagining a world outside your everyday life.

neil chuckled, looking at your eyes with so much adoration. he could almost envision it all himself as well. the amazing scene he’d have in front of him—a quaint small room just for two, dozens of trees and fields and natural life passing by; almost enough for him to write hundreds of poems about. but most beautiful of them all—you.

the scene in his mind was could never beat the moment he’s living in right now, however. you’re eyes—reflecting the bright stars above, giving his life another light within him. he could almost kiss you, and he decided he will.

“(y/n).”

you turned your head, raising your eyebrows with a smile. his nose was only a few inches away from yours, and the close proximity got your blood running up to your cheeks.

“can i kiss you?”

now you could really feel the heat across your face. with a small nod, you closed your eyes and puckered your lips.

neil let out a soft laugh, “if only you could see how cute you are right now.”

“just kiss me already, perry.”

i kiss you all starry-eyed, my body swinging from side to side.

his lips felt soft on yours, and his hands were holding your cheeks—somewhat grounding you. your entire body was pulsing with electricity, it was like you could implode any moment.

unfortunately, neil parted his lips from yours, giving you the relieving breath you didn’t know was taken away from you. and you stared, stared at him with star-struck eyes that was being illuminated by the street light, your pajamas crumpled between your fingers.

“that- you were-“ neil struggled to form a proper thought, still buzzing from the kiss.

“i love you.” you blurted, filling the silence and overlapping the chirping of the crickets. realizing the words that left your mouth, you turned your back against the awestruck boy in a rush and blurted ‘talk to me tomorrow’ before running away in a flurry of emotions.

“i love you too.” neil muttered with a small smile, his cheeks adorning a pink color of his own.

i don’t see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you.

“(y/n),” neil whined with a grin, holding in the laughter that’s begging to be let out while simultaneously trying to keep his pajamas up. “stop pulling on my pants! you’re pulling my underwear along with it!” he desperately pleaded, walking away with your hands gripping the fabric with such strength.

“exactly.”

neil pulled on harder, he was laughing loudly now, enjoying the playful tug-of-war you two were having. before suddenly, you heard a tear.

you stared into neil’s eyes, and he stared back into yours before letting go.

“(y/n).”

“neil before anything i just want to say i love you.” you waved your hands in front of you, slowly walking towards the door facing neil. to your surprise, he jolted towards you with a smile, and ripped pants, causing you to run like there’s no tomorrow.

“please—let’s talk about this!”

[ellethespaceunicorn]

The Howling of Claw Creek Forest, Chapter One

Chapter One: Hide and Seek 

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI 

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader 

Word Count: 2.7K 

Series Summary: You live in a small town called Claw Creek, surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Since you were a kid, an urban legend of the creature in the woods has been told. If the distant howls at night and mutilated livestock are anything to go by, you fear the stories to be true. 

Chapter Summary: After a curfew is set in place, you and your best friend sneak out past the town border for a drunken game of hide and seek. What could go wrong? 

Warnings: drinking, peril, mention of blood 

A/N: A special thank you to @peyton-warren for being my lovely beta and soundboard for this.  

Dividers by me 

Support/Reblog banner by me 

Cover Art by me 

Series Masterlist 

My Masterlist 

“C’mon, girl. You need to get out of the house for more than just work and the coffee shop. Look, we’ll even stay in town. Just please don’t make me stay in and watch The Great British Bake Off again. Paul Hollywood’s eyes still haunt my dreams.” Your best friend drapes herself against the couch in a dramatic show of boredom. 

“Liv, you’re the one that agreed to wine and TV. So, what? You wanna hit the bar now?” You guess, sitting on the arm of the couch. 

“Yuck. No way. I was thinking of something much more exciting. But you gotta agree to it before we go. That’s the deal.” She props her head up on her fists, while she lays on her stomach, letting her feet swing in the air back and forth. As innocent as she looks, you knew better. 

But then again, you could always go for a little adventure.  

And that is how you ended up in a clearing in Claw Creek Forest with Olivia, a heart full of optimism, and a six-pack of Jack Daniels Watermelon Punch. By the time you are halfway done with your second bottle, the sounds of the night are almost calming. Crickets are chirping, owls are hooting, and leaves are rustling in the light wind that tickles your neck. 

You’re downing the rest of your drink and looking up into the sky when Liv suddenly stands up with a look that can only mean one thing. She’s got a terrible idea that she thinks is genius. 

You decide to stop her before she even starts, “Girl, whatever idea just popped into your head after two wine coolers is not gonna be as brilliant as you think it is. Just say it so I can turn it down.” You twist off the top of your third bottle and look up at the defeated face of your best friend. 

“Damn, way to try and spoil all the fun. I just wanted to have a chugging contest.” She sits down on the fallen log next to you and grabs the last bottle from the cardboard pack. She twists off the top and you nudge her with your elbow before winking at her. 

You smile at each other before bringing your bottles to your lips. The rush of the bubbly drinks makes you both stop every few sips to breathe and burp a little. But in the end, you finish your bottle first and shoot up off the log to slam down your empty bottle. 

The moment you are upright, the blood rushes to your head and you instantly feel ten times more drunk. A few seconds later, you feel like you even out and you can hear Liv’s laughing as she falls backward off the log and her drink goes flying. You crumple to the ground, laughing your ass off, until she pops up over the log with a small scowl on her face. 

“Oh, you think that’s funny, huh?” She stands up and brushes off her pants before picking up her now empty bottle along with yours. Her little attitude is adorable, but you don’t dare say that. As she walks past you, she doesn’t look at you. 

“Olivia, don’t be like that. Come on, girl. We’re having a good time! I don’t want it to end. Please?” You’re not too proud to beg, and she’s not the only one who can pout charmingly. 

When she turns around, the first thing she does is look at your pout and scoff, “OK, fine. But I’m only staying if we play a game of hide and seek. It’s spooky season, after all. Well, technically, in my head it’s always spooky season, but you get it.”  

“You wanna play hide and seek...in the woods...in the dead of night...drunk?” You hoped there was enough moonlight so that she could see the incredulous look on your face. 

Wiggling her eyebrows, Liv bites her bottom lip and says, “All of those things together are so perfect. We’re drunk. It’s nighttime. Spoo-ooky woods all around. Come on, babe, the kid versions of us would be so proud to say we weren’t too scared to play hide and seek as adults with barely any wits about us.” As soon as she finishes speaking, the cutest little hiccup escapes her, and you can’t help but laugh and shake your head. 

“Fine! But I’m hiding first. Count to 30 so my drunk ass can find a good spot around here. And don’t cheat, Liv!” You direct her to face a tree and cover her eyes so she cannot sneak a peek at where you are going. You also make her count loudly so that she can barely hear your footsteps crunching over the leaves. 

Even drunk, you are surprised you can think of all that. You back up slowly, turning around to run in a full sprint in the opposite direction. When the tree cover blocks out the light of the moon, you slow down and pull out your phone to use the flashlight to light up your way. 

You don’t know if you got very far in 30 seconds or if Liv just stopped counting, but you can’t hear her anymore. You turn off your flashlight so she can’t use that to find you. You tip-toe forward in case she has gotten closer to you. You find a tree with large roots above ground and decide to try and hide in the little alcove it is shaped into. 

But something catches your eye. At first, you think someone is shining a flashlight or something a bit away from you. But flashlights don’t usually blink, do they? But if you can remember correctly, you’ve seen those glowing yellow eyes before.  

And now they were slowly moving toward you. The glow of the moon illuminated dark fur covering pointed ears and a muzzle that only hid its teeth for a moment. As those fangs came into view, a billow of hot breath turned into a smoke cloud in the frigid night air. The sudden huff of the beast made you realize you weren’t moving. You were standing stock-still while an imposing wolf thought about making you into its dinner.  

Turning on a dime, you begin to run further into the forest. Not looking where you were going, you didn’t see the pile of rocks in your path. Your right foot slips, and you fall face-first onto the unyielding ground. You grunt as your head connects with a sharp stone. Your head starts to swim as you try to lift yourself to continue running, another huff directly behind you scares you enough to flip over onto your back.  

Ringing starts in your ears, and you suddenly feel light-headed. You start to hyperventilate as the wolf comes closer. As tunnel vision closes in, you think you hear it whine softly. The last thing you feel is a wet snout against your temple and then nothingness. 

What was once the sensation of cold wetness is replaced by warmth as you start to regain consciousness. You reach a hand up to your forehead and feel a wet cloth being pressed against your temple. When your hand touches what is holding it there, your eyes shoot open, and you try and scuttle away.  

A firm hand grips your shoulder, and you find it hard to move. Turning your head slowly, you first look at the hand that holds you down. Thick fingers clutch your joint tightly, and the connected veiny forearm is covered in a smattering of dark chocolate hair. Even under an old woolen sweater, you can see the outline of a sizable bicep. The broad chest breathing heavily under that sweater triggers the onset of hyperventilation until the hand that was holding your shoulder moves away. 

When a warm palm touches your jaw, your eyes threaten to close. But when a thumb brushes your cheek, you finally lock eyes with...an angel? 

You can’t tell if the dimly lit room you are in is fuzzy or if you have a concussion. But if you were a betting person, your money would be on head trauma. Because there was no way he positioned himself in front of a light to have a slight glow about him. Maybe that just works like that? 

Deep cocoa brown curls are about ear-length on his head, but a few unruly strands are hanging above his slightly raised brow. Concerned aquamarine eyes with a touch of brown in the left iris aren’t enough to hide the growing bags under them. A strong nose sits in the center of his face. And a small, yet inviting, mouth is outlined by a dark beard speckled with a few greys here and there. 

“...best you lie back down.” The stranger speaks and you only catch the last bit of it because you were looking at his pretty face. 

“I...,” You start, your hoarse voice causing you to clear your throat, “I’m sorry, what did you say?” 

“I said, it’s probably best you lie back down. You’ve got quite a lump on your head. If I hadn’t found you when I did, who knows what could have happened?” With one hand grabbing for the warm compress, his other hand guides you back down to lay your head on a soft pillow. 

“Found me? Was there a wolf near me? He was huge and he chased after me and then I slipped and hit my head. And where am I? Where are we right now? Who are you? I need to get back to my friend.” Your words exit your mouth hastily as if you are in a rush to get the hell out of...wherever this is. 

“Try and stay calm. Yes, I found you not far from the trail. I didn’t see a wolf anywhere, though,” He pauses quickly, but picks right back up where he left off, “Ehm, my name is Walter. Walter Marshall. We’re in my cabin, just outside of Claw Creek. I didn’t see your friend anywhere but, as soon as this swelling goes down a bit, I can take you into town.” Walter speaks clearly and smoothly, his voice is dark yet pacifying, but it’s obvious that he doesn’t enjoy talking.  

“I guess I should give you my name,” You rattle off your name, and Walter nods, “I’d like to say it’s nice to meet you, Walter. But considering the circumstances of our meeting, this could have gone a lot differently. Not the way I hoped to end the night.” You laugh, mostly to yourself. 

“I should hope not. When I found you, you were still bleeding a bit. I was able to stitch you up and get you cleaned up. But I’d probably go and see a doctor first thing in the morning.” Walter suggests in a strong tone. 

“Thank you, Walter. I hate to think what would’ve happened to me had you not shown up when you did.” Your bottom lip quivers as you think the worst. 

“Hey. You’re stronger than you think. And the swelling has gone down some. Why don’t we get you back to town where you can get more rest?” Walter pats your shoulder and gets up from the chair he was sitting in. 

Your eyes follow him as he moves about the cabin. You realize that you hadn’t looked around before, so focused on him previously. It’s a nice, cozy place. Full of warm, rich colors and various little knickknacks on shelves. It lacks a woman’s touch, so to speak, what with all the antlers and not enough candles to cover the smell of a man. However, it suits the man who lives here. 

Grabbing a set of keys, Walter comes back to where you lay on the couch in the center of the room. He gently and slowly helps you up and off the soft furniture and guides you to his truck parked outside. He helps you into the passenger side, shutting the door when you’re seated, and walks around the front to get in the driver’s side. Turning the key in the ignition, the truck rumbles to life and you are on your way home. 

You’re rubbing your hands together and shoving them into your coat pockets before Walter gets the hint to turn on the heat. It’s only a couple of minutes before it is warm enough to be comfortable.  

The drive down the tree-lined road is mostly silent, save for the low music playing on the radio. Walter points out where he found you and you almost can’t believe you made it that far on foot when you reach the edge of town. But you were drunkenly competitive, so you had your eyes on the prize. 

Once you make it to town, you pass a curfew checkpoint and Walter supplies the officer with a story about how you two lost track of time while out of town. You thank him for the cover and direct him to stop at Olivia’s house to make sure she got home safely. Of course, you told him it was your place, and that Liv was your roommate. 

As handsome as he was, serial killers come in all shapes and sizes and no way were you giving this man your actual address. You’d apologize to Liv later. 

Once he stopped outside of her house, you went to unbuckle yourself and thank Walter for all his help. Protocol for this type of situation eluded you, so when you went for the door handle, you weren’t expecting his voice to stop you. 

“Do me a favor and be careful from now on. No more late-night drinking in the forest. It can be a dangerous place." His calm smile brings out the most adorable dimples and you resist the urge to poke them. 

“I promise. Scout’s honor. No more drunk forest parties. Thank you again for everything.” You place your hand on his arm and squeeze before exiting the truck and waving as you walk up the pathway to Liv’s house. 

The light on the porch turns on and your best friend rushes out and hugs you tightly, bringing you in from the cold as Walter drives off into the night. Once you are in the warmth of her home, she takes your coat and prepares you a cup of tea. She asks who brought you home and you tell her about your ordeal. 

When she asked if he was cute, you shouldn’t have been surprised but you still giggled bashfully. She also playfully swats you when you mention that you didn’t get his number. But that’s fine because at least you have his name.  

Once she deems you safe enough to be on your own, she drives you the few streets over to your home and has you promise to call her in the morning. You take off your boots at the door, remove your coat, and start to sling it over the back of one of your dining room chairs. As you look closer at your coat, you make a note to take it to the cleaners tomorrow. 

You survey the coat for any damage to the fabric and thankfully it just looks a bit dirty. You begin to wipe it with your hand and notice that it’s not all dirt on the coat. You can’t be sure, but if you had to guess what was on the sleeve and collar of the coat, you would say it was dog hair. 

Coarse, short dark-colored hairs that when you hold them under a lamp look to be an inky brown. You try and stop yourself from jumping to conclusions, but it is almost impossible not to do that very thing. If these truly were what you thought they were, that means that you didn’t hallucinate that giant wolf. He was there with you, and he didn’t eat you. 

You decided to get to the bottom of this. You’d schedule a check-up with your doctor in the morning. And after that, you would go back into the woods.  

In search of the wolf? Possibly. In search of the truth? Definitely. 

There was only one place to start. At Walter Marshall’s front door. 

To be continued... 

A/N: Walter is finally in the story!! Yay. I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter.

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[bloodbrown]

P & Gemini Friendship Headcanons

requested by @almophia

• In my mind, Gemini is that annoying friend who busts your balls constantly, but deep down and when the time comes he's just the ultimate homie. Always got your back and willing to give serious lip to defend you. That's what I imagine his relationship with P is like (especially since we know he annoys P in canon!)

• Speaking of Gemini annoying P, that probably happens all the time and it's simply something P has to accept. His tiny lamp friend is sorta cringe, often making a spectacle out of himself (like in that cable car) and piping up at awkward moments, and P has learned to be ok with that.

• In some situations though, I can see Gemini being the grounded one, especially considering that P can be quite naive at times. Like I think he'd have to step in to tell him, "pal, this guy is sketchy", because P just wants to run errands for everyone they meet. Gemini in cases like these would need to explain to his naive puppet friend why he can't trust everybody. I think stuff like this would happen more when P is low-humanity and just trying to be generous.

• Gemini has to explain lots of things to P in general, probably. P needs a guide for highly complex human topics, and Gemini, in his mysteriously unlimited wisdom for a cricket, is happy to provide. Especially stuff like romance, which P really can't wrap his head around at first. Gemini ends up exasperated attempting to walk him through the concept of flirting. Human anatomy was another interesting discussion, one that is not very enjoyable to have with a robot cricket who thinks he knows everything.

• Gemini is a total guy friend to P as well. He's willing to tell him, "listen, I know you like that shirt, but neon yellow is NOT your color pal," when no one else is. He can be annoying in his suggestions and assertions but they can also be exactly what P needs to hear.

• Also! I wholeheartedly believe that the person to give P a real name would be Gemini. 100%. He's already familiar with the tale of Pinocchio and probably thinks it would just be a bit funny and ironic to use the mischievous puppet's name as a nickname for his nearly-human friend. After he calls him that in a tongue in cheek manner, the nickname ends up sticking and that literally becomes P's name.

• I can't imagine how P feels, wondering if he can ever really pay it forward to Gemini, who has been there with him since the very beginning. I'd like to think after everything in Krat calms down, P might talk with him about getting his cricket friend a humanoid puppet body, freeing him from the lamp, as well as helping him with restoring his memories. I'd love to imagine that one day with enough time and technological innovation, P and Gemini can hang out together as two mostly-human dudes, just being bros. The dream.

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 7

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 |-| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

AO3

Summary: As they continue their stay at Coombe House, Rosie and Frankie find themselves ever more drawn to one another

Warnings: Language, mild injury description (blood), tension that makes me want to rip my own eyes out??? i think that counts

Word Count: 3.5k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58

The chirp of crickets filled the air, a warm afternoon breeze blowing the grass this way and that as the Riveters played in the river, laughing and shouting as they splashed one another from the comfort of their rowing boats beneath the glow of the midday sun. People had warned Rosie about the temperamental British weather before he'd left Brooklyn, but it seemed the heavens had made an exception for their trip. Considerate, really.

Frankie had laid out a picnic blanket on the grassy slope overlooking the water, a half-eaten packet of crackers and a battered copy of The Young Visiters lying in her wake, the book so well-worn that its cover was halfway hanging off. The only problem was that Frankie herself was nowhere to be found, and Rosie sat quietly beside her blanket like a dog awaiting its master, thumbing the corner of his book, unable to finish a whole page without looking around for any sign of her.

The sound of footsteps muffled by the soft ground caught his attention, craning his neck to watch her bounding up behind him. She was wearing a stark red blouse and a pair of shorts that ended just above the knee, and for a moment he had to stop himself from staring at her legs as Frankie crouched beside him. Letting out a grunt, she tucked her feet beneath her as she sat down, holding out the teacup she had been carrying. "Here. Drink this."

It didn't even occur to Rosie to question her demand until he had upturned the cup, a foul, acrid taste stinging his tongue. Swiftly spitting whatever the disgusting liquid was back into its cup, he spluttered in revulsion. "What in God's name is that?!"

Frankie guffawed, a pink flush tinting her cheeks. "Pappy got distracted and accidentally poured his juice and his coffee into the same cup."

"So naturally you had to bring it straight out here to make me drink it?"

"Of course," She nodded as if it were obvious, rolling over to lie on her stomach, feet crossed over and swinging back and forth in the air. "In my defence, I'm only here so that I'll feel better, and that did work."

Rosie couldn't help but smirk, even in spite of the bitter taste that coated his tongue. Pilfering one of her crackers, he turned back to his book, shaking his head in silent, teasing disapproval. He assumed she had taken up reading herself, but instead, she began letting out a low, tutting sound, shaking her head. "Fuckin' horse riding?"

Putting down his book once again, he frowned down at her. "I thought you liked it here - are you still complaining about 'rich people hobbies'?" He raised a hand in quotation, mimicking her own words.

"I just don't get it," She continued to shake her head, watching the riders with narrowed eyes. "I mean - buy a bike? Cheaper. Don't have to feed it. Bikes also don't shit all over the place - I almost stepped in some on my way over here." The distaste was thick in her tone, and he couldn't help but smile, even as he scoffed in disbelief.

"You're so biased."

"I just don't think you have to spend obscene amounts of money to have a good time - if anything, I'm frugal."

"I can see that - you've read that book half to death, the poor thing."

"I think it's funny. At least I don't read depressing books about poor people dying like you," Frankie chuckled, jabbing a finger at his copy of Of Mice and Men. "Not exactly therapeutic."

"She's so judgy!" Rosie declared, lying backwards in the grass beside her blanket so that they could actually see each other's faces. A grin was plastered across his face, stuck still as he looked up at her - at the way the corners of her eyes creased when she laughed, and how her smile was always ever-so-slightly lopsided. She stared back at him, a twinkle in her eyes as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Hi," Frankie spoke sweetly.

"Hello."

It was silent for a long moment, their eyes locked, gentle smiles creasing their cheeks. Rosie felt the sudden urge to lean in.

"Hey, Frankie!" Bailey's voice rang from down in the river. He raised his head to look down the hill to the water, where Pappy was whispering something too quiet for him to hear, seemingly telling off the younger pilot for his interruption.

Frankie missed this part, too busy scrambling to her feet so she could descend the slope, anxious to hear what Bailey had to say. Rosie sighed, his head lolling back into the grass. Sometimes he was glad he was such a peaceful man, otherwise he swore he could've wrung Bailey's neck.

"Yeah, what's up?" She asked as she reached the edge of the water, the breeze blowing her hair out of place. Bailey paddled closer, ignoring Pappy's glare as he muttered his response to a conversation she hadn't heard the rest of.

"What? I'm allowed - he doesn't get a monopoly just because he fancies her," The man frowned, looking up at her with a smile as he approached. "Tennis rematch this afternoon?"

Frankie pushed his first statement out of her mind with a shrug. "Absolutely. Prepare to be destroyed," She grinned, shaking hands on the deal.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bailey and Frankie were both equally dreadful at tennis. His serves barely ever made it across the net, and she frequently tripped on her own feet whilst scrambling to return the ones that did. They spent most of their matches yelling at each other in frustration, and the staff at Coombe House frequently had to tell them off for disturbing the other residents. But the pair were determined to get a single good game in before the end of their stay.

They'd been going for an hour. They had made no more than four successful passes in all that time, and at some point Frankie had skidded on her knee, grazing the skin and leaving a thin rivulet of blood running down her shin. "Fuck!" She yelled, just clipping the ball with the edge of her racket as it zipped past her, hitting the fence with a thud.

"You sure you wanna keep going?" Bailey called from across the court, eyeing the wound on her leg as she scrounged for the ball, which had rolled under a nearby hedge.

"I don't wanna stop until we get a proper back-and-forth going," She shook her head, wiping dirt off of the ball onto her shorts as she poised for another serve.

Rosie wandered the path past the tennis courts, his footsteps crunching against the gravel, altogether too distracted as he neared the end of his book to notice the chatter rising over the hedge before a familiar voice let out a whoop. Using his thumb to mark the page, he descended the stone steps leading down to the courts, spying the pair on the furthest of the three, tucked out of the way of the other players. They had finally gotten a rhythm going, letting out wordless exclamations of joy whenever they managed to successfully bat the ball back across the net, laughter mingling with the incessant sound of rackets colliding with the ball.

"Hey, you got it!" He cried, teeth bared in a grin.

"SHUT UP!" The pair yelled simultaneously, desperate not to break their concentration. Rosie chuckled, his smile fading slightly as he noticed Frankie's injury, the top layer of skin on her right knee now a bright patch of red, blooming with blood as it pooled in droplets on the surface.

"Gotta keep it up Rosie, I'm winning!" Bailey declared gleefully, sending the ball spinning back towards Frankie, narrowly missing the net.

"You're winning?" She cried, diving forward to return it, almost losing her balance but managing to clear the net. "Are you fucking blind?!"

"Hey, Frank, are you ok?" Rosie called, thumbing the corner of his book. Another line of blood had begun to seep down past her kneecap.

"It's nothing," Frankie sent the ball spinning towards Bailey, but he was just too slow, and it soared past his head into the shrubs. She let out a shriek, racket held above her head in victory. "See! I win!"

"Alright, alright," Bailey shook his head in defeat, crouching down to rummage for the lost ball. "Just go clean yourself up, it's distracting."

"Thank you," Rosie agreed with a nod. She held her racket out to him as he approached, and he accepted it without a second thought, only realising after a moment that he had no idea what to do with it. But by then Frankie was already at the top of the steps, peering down at her bloody knee. "C'mon, let's go in," He said as he caught up, discarding the racket upon a nearby bench, his palm skimming across her back as he guided her towards the house.

As nasty as the graze appeared, Frankie appeared completely unphased, a testament to the roughhousing games she had played as a girl. They made their way through the halls of Coombe House, the staff shooting her a few sideways glances, largely in fear of having to clean any blood out of the antique rugs. He followed her up the main staircase and through to their corridor, making a beeline for the shared bathroom at the end of the hall.

Frankie entered without a word, perching herself on the edge of the porcelain bathtub and hiking up her leg, leaving a muddy footprint on the clean, white rim as she attempted to pull out a few tiny stones with her fingers.

"Stop it!" Rosie seized her wrist, wrenching her hand away and shooting her a confounded look as he crossed towards the sink to wash his hands.

"I can do it," She whined, throwing up her hands.

"Not after trying that shit - you're banned from trying," He shook his head, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Frankie almost snorted with laughter at how serious he was taking their present situation. Rosie took a moment of silent consideration before leaving the room in search of a first aid kid, and she let out a long sigh, tapping her foot impatiently against the polished wood floor.

By the time he returned, there was a white towel crumpled on the floor, stained scarlet by the blood she had wiped away with it. "Who raised you?" He scoffed, crouching down on the floor in front of her, tossing the stained towel aside.

"Speaking of, you should meet my dad," Frankie grinned, kicking off her dirty shoe and placing her foot in his lap as instructed. "You'd like him."

Rosie began to disinfect the wound, carefully removing the debris, and she fought the urge to wince at the stinging sensation. "I'm sure I would, he raised you," The words came forth faster than he could process them, and for a moment he paused, one hand hovering above her injury, the other gripping the bare skin of her calf to keep her from moving. Their position wasn't compromising per se, but it wasn't exactly proper either. Nevertheless, the sudden thought of someone intruding on them made him squirm, and he got up to lock the bathroom door without a word.

Frankie's brow raised at this, the sudden, deliberate movement raising all sorts of questions. "God, this is taking an interesting turn," She blurted, internally cringing at the type of subtly-suggestive jokes the boys she used to work with in the garage liked to make.

He turned back to look at her. "... Were you just flirting with me?"

"I think so, yes."

Rosie frowned, considering this very seriously as she searched his expression for some indication of how he felt. "... Hm." Without another word, he resumed his place in front of her, beginning to dress her knee.

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Frankie was almost irritated, but she could feel the sweat clamming his palms as they touched her bare skin and suddenly he wasn't as calm as he seemed. She fought to hide her smirk as he finished dressing the graze, nodding in satisfaction at his work. "There." His voice was quieter than usual, unsteady.

"Thanks," She spoke hurriedly, her perch on the edge of the bathtub becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Pushing herself up to stand, Frankie bent down to grab the blood-stained towel off of the floor. "Oh, I'll clean that before it stains-"

"No, that's ok, I can do it," Rosie assured her, seizing its other side. Neither of them was quite looking the other in the eye.

"You sure? I mean, it's my mess, I really don't mind-"

"I'm sure."

Frankie nodded slowly, letting her grip on the towel slip away. "Alright then," She turned to the door, unlocking it with a click, and by the time Rosie looked back to where she had been, she was gone. His heart had been thumping in his chest, too fast for comfort, and only once he was alone could he heave in a long, steady breath to slow it down. Glancing down at the floor, he chuckled.

She had forgotten her shoe.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Steam filled the bathroom, rising to the ceiling and coating the windows in a film of grey as Rosie sank beneath the hot water, revelling in the feeling as it covered him completely, the feeling of warmth seeping through his skin as if it wished to take rest within his very bones. He splashed a handful across his face, blinking away the droplets on his eyelashes as he let out a sigh, leaning back against the side of the tub.

Frankie had spent almost all of last night's dinner talking about her tennis match with Bailey, hardly sparing him a second glance. He knew he shouldn't have taken issue with it - she was friends with all of the flight crew by now - but he found himself staring, as if waiting desperately for her to meet his eye. He hadn't seen her at breakfast at all. She deserved the lie in - that's what he told himself. But it was becoming increasingly impossible for Rosie to think about anything else.

The bathroom door swung swiftly open and shut, and he slid downwards until the water reached his chin, desperately trying to cover the most indecent parts of himself. He could've sworn he'd locked that door. It was almost midday, but Frankie was still in her pyjamas, brow furrowed as she read the newspaper she was holding in one hand, a glass of orange juice and a cigarette steadily burning away in the other. By the look of her, she hadn't realised he was there at all, taking a seat upon the closed toilet lid as she used the light of the windows to read by.

“Morning,” She spoke nonchalantly, such a calm acknowledgement of his naked presence that it was almost more jarring than the intrusion itself. For a moment Rosie could do nothing but gape, his mouth opening and closing like a dying fish as he searched for something to say.

"... Do you mind?"

Her gaze flitted away from the newspaper and met his eyes for a moment. He shrank farther below the surface of the water, praying to God she couldn't see anything below the rim of the tub. Her expression showed no recognition of what he was referring to. After a moment of silence, Frankie shrugged. “Nothing I haven't seen before.”

“It's everything you haven't seen before!” Rosie cried, almost bolting upwards again before remembering what was happening.

"No, but like. In general," She was peering back down at her newspaper, finishing off her juice. Her cigarette was almost entirely burnt out, but she took one last puff before tossing it into the empty glass as if it were an ashtray.

He blinked slowly. "Frankie. Why are you here."

"Sun's on this side of the house," Frankie replied as if it were a normal answer to give - as if her room didn't have electric lighting, as if she weren't sitting a mere ten feet away from his nakedness. Even in a bathroom as huge as this one, it was making him nervous. She seemed to be able to sense it. "D'you want me to leave?"

"Yes. I think so."

She nodded, standing up to go, her eyes still locked on the paper as she made for the door. Before he even knew what he was saying, he spoke. "Wait."

Frankie looked up, smiling slightly at the way his head peeked over the edge of the bathtub, his cheeks flushed bright red. "You don't have to... if you don't want to. I mean, as long as you're not lookin'-"

"I didn't come in here with the intention of staring at your arse, Captain," She shook her head, chuckling as she returned to her perch.

"Why did you?"

"I told you. Good lighting."

He shook his head. It sounded like bullshit to him. But if it was the story she was sticking with, Rosie wasn't going to keep prying. "Just throw me a towel, will ya?" He shook his head, reaching an arm out to catch it as she tossed one across the room from where they had been stacked beside the radiator.

Frankie kept her word, turning her back as he rose out of the still-warm water, wrapping the towel around his waist as a single, wet curl dangled in front of his face.

"Uh. Frankie?"

"Hm?"

"You're sitting next to my clothes."

He'd left them folded in a pile on the floor where they couldn't get wet, which just so happened to now be right next to her feet. She bent down, snatching the pile and holding it out to him, her gaze still purposely fixed on her reading. But as he reached out to take it, his belt slid from atop his shirt, landing on the floor with a clatter.

"Shit," Frankie muttered, and the pair moved to retrieve it simultaneously. She caught a glimpse of him and for a moment she froze, her face heating up and turning a fierce red. "Uh, no, this is weird, I'm just gonna... go."

Leaping to her feet, she began hurriedly making to leave, gaze fixed on the door handle to prevent it from wandering anywhere near him. Rosie nodded hurriedly, attempting to shrug on his shirt whilst still holding up the towel with one hand. "I'm sorry," He blurted, although what he was apologising for he couldn't quite say.

The moment he spoke, she turned on her heel, tossing her newspaper onto the floor. She'd been back and forth across that room so many times she was starting to feel dizzy. Or maybe it wasn't that. Her heart was beating too fast for her body, and she let out a huff of air as she crossed the room towards him, taking his damp face in her hands. Rosie's chest rose and fell over and over as he stared back at her, their noses almost touching from the closeness.

She wasn't sure she'd ever seen eyes so... blue.

His breath hitched in his throat as she tilted her head upwards, their lips in line with one another's. He'd barely have to move to kiss her now, warm breath fanning his cheek.

A knock came at the door, and Frankie pulled away so fast it was as if she'd been electrocuted, unable to breathe as she waited for whoever was outside to speak.

"Sergeant Bevan?" The voice of one of the staff members came, a warm, American lilt to her greeting. "There's a call for you downstairs."

She swallowed hard, her throat so dry it hurt. "I'll be there in a sec," Frankie called in return, her words shaky. Pausing for a moment, entirely unmoving, she broke the stillness with a firm nod, reaching for her stuff as she stepped towards the door.

"Frankie, wait," Rosie whispered, moving to follow, careful not to speak loud enough for the woman outside to hear. "Just wait a sec, can we-"

"I need to go," She met his eyes, and for a moment he was drowning in the sheer indecipherable nature of her expression. Her thoughts had always been a mystery to him, and now was no different.

He stepped behind the door as she opened it, obscuring himself from the view of anyone outside, fighting the urge to reach out to her as she left. The door closed behind her with a gentle click, and then he was alone, the room feeling suddenly twice as large and empty as it had before. Rosie let out a deep breath, pressing his forehead against the wood with a faint thud.

"... Dammit."

[sixhours]

Meteor

She remembers the space he’d carved around himself, and the moment she realized the distance was too great to cross.

Rating: PG Word count: 1k

Notes: X-Files revival era fic.

Originally posted at ao3 01/19/2016

~*~

She makes her way up the long drive, the old farmhouse looming like a specter from her past. There are no lights in the windows, just a cold, hulking shadow against a darkening sky; an apt metaphor if she thinks about it too much, which she won’t.

“Where are you, Mulder?” Scully whispers to herself. His car is parked next to the porch. It’s evening, too early for sleep.

The air is damp as she leaves the warmth of the car, carrying a folder of papers. Spring has turned the ground to mud beneath her feet, and she, in her most expensive pair of heels, frowns. Her good boots are at the bottom of a box at the back of her closet along with the rest of the things she never unpacked.

The porch creaks in the same places, the screen door still protests on its hinge. She knocks once before trying the handle, finding it open.

“Mulder?”

The house is dusty and silent. She curses under her breath, gooseflesh rising along the back of her neck, wishing she had her holster. Three months on the job after so long away and she’s still not used to carrying.

She’s debating whether to check upstairs or leave the file on the kitchen table when a voice calls her name from outside.

“Scully?”

She steps onto the porch, squinting into the darkness. “Mulder? Is that you?”

“I’m out back,” he calls. “Watch your step.”

She turns on her phone’s flashlight and makes her way to the back yard. A shadow sits on the frame of the old pickup they haven’t used in years.

“I’d have left the porch light on if I’d known you were coming,” it says.

She points the phone in that direction, eliciting a wince from her partner as the beam hits his eyes.

“Ow, Scully.”

“Sorry,” she mutters, shutting off the light. “What are you doing out here, Mulder?”

There’s the distinct sound of liquid sloshing, the kiss of a bottle at his lips.

“Just sittin’ and thinkin’.”

“In the dark? It’s chilly,” she says, rubbing her shoulders for emphasis.

His face resolves as her eyes slowly adjust. He’s sitting on the tailgate, legs dangling off the end, a beer nestled between his thighs.

“I thought you’d be working.”

“Guy can’t take a break once in a while?”

She smirks. “Who are you and what have you done with my partner?”

“Hah-hah, funny. Have a seat, Scully.”

She does after a pause, easing herself onto the tailgate to join him.

“This’ll warm you up,” he says, offering her a beer.

“How many of these have you had?” she asks, accepting the bottle with a raised eyebrow.

“Just the one, doc. Don’t worry,” he says. “It’s not that kind of party.”

The cap twists off; the taste of malt fizzes on her tongue, goes down smooth.

“I take it you’re here for business and not pleasure,” he says, nodding to the folder in her lap.

“Mm. It’s the autopsy results for Lisa Baylor. Scrapings from her fingernails revealed traces of skin; they’re processing the DNA and I asked the lab to run it through NICS. We’ll have the full results in the morning, but I thought you’d want to get an early start.”

“You ever heard of email, Scully?”

“You mean the thing that keeps you tethered to your computer at all hours? Yeah, I’ve heard of it,” she mutters.

He offers a wry smile. “You didn’t have to drive all the way out here for that.”

“Maybe I wanted to talk about the case in person.”

His voice grows soft. “You don’t need an excuse to visit, you know. You always have a place here.”

“I wasn’t looking for an excuse.”

“Checking up on me, huh?”

“Mulder,” she sighs. “Don’t start.”

A cricket chirps in the grass at their feet, filling the stillness that hovers like a black mist. She remembers the space he’d carved around himself, and the moment she realized the distance was too great to cross.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says finally, nudging her shoulder in apology. “Been a rough year. Sometimes I forget we’re on the same side now.”

“I’ve always been on your side, Mulder,” she murmurs, feeling their history like a lead weight in her chest. “I’ve only ever wanted what was best for you.”

“I know,” he nods, then holds out his bottle. “Truce?”

“Truce,” she agrees, letting the glass clink softly. For a moment, the silence is comfortable, familiar, and she closes her eyes.

When she opens them, she’s looking at his profile in the dusky light. With his beard shaved and his hair trimmed, she can almost see the man she met twenty odd years ago. Without thinking, she reaches out to touch his cheek, the stubble rough against her fingers.

He looks over, bemused, and she pulls her hand away, still feeling the ghost of his skin against her palm.

“You clean up good, G-man,” she says.

He chuckles, his gaze turned upward. “Hey, it’s starting.”

He points to the sky and her eyes follow, trying to see what he sees. A pinprick of light flicks across the sky, followed by another, and then another; the beginnings of a meteor shower.

Mulder reaches behind them and pulls out two rolled sleeping bags, settling back against one in the bed of the truck. She doesn’t ask why he brought two instead of one, for the same reason she knows the extra beer in her hand was never intended for him.

She pulls the rolled blanket behind her and lies back to watch the show. Her eyes flit from one corner of the heavens to the other as more of the blue-white streaks make their way across the night, and she marvels at how the stars can still stun her with their beauty, how the universe in all its endless mystery can be so breathtaking, even after bringing such grief.

His voice is rich and vulnerable, spoken to the open air. “It wasn’t all bad, was it, Scully?”

She doesn’t have to think. Her response is as immediate and as involuntary as a heartbeat. “No…it wasn’t.”

She finds his hand without trying and listens to the sound of their mingled breathing as the sky falls around them.

cc @today-in-fic

[elliespuns]

Ellie and Joel sit at the campfire. It's a quiet night, and they've just finished eating. Joel's about his business, sharpening his knife, and Ellie is bored to her bone. Listening to the sound of the crickets and the nighlife around them, she shuffles her foot on the ground before she glances over at Joel with a smirk on her face.

"Hey, Joel?" 

"Hmm?" He doesn't bother looking at her; he is busy with his knife.

"What does the receptionist at a sperm bank say as clients leave?" She asks, ready to annoy his ass with one of her adult jokes that she knows will make him unconfortable.

Hearing the words, he's quick to lift his eyes on her. "Ellie!!" The thin line of his brow jumps in surprise. "Where did you—"

"Thanks for coming!" She blurts out and falls quiet, just like him.

There's a suspended moment of silence for a while, as if something had momentarily stolen the very sound of their voice, before Joel finally breaks the silence by letting himself fall victim to the funny look on Ellie's face and bursts out into a big, booming laugh, causing her to do the same. They both guffaw. Laughter bubbles up from deep within him and her—a contagious joy shared between them that infects the air—as they can't stop their hearthy laugher from howling through the woods.

For once, they worry about nothing. They don't worry about the infected. They don't worry about the hunters. They don't worry about how they're going to cross the country, scavenge enough food, or find supplies. All they worry about is how to stop the giddy delight, unable to contain the sheer joy that radiates from both of them as their tummies hurt.

I've always loved this picture. This moment between Ellie and Joel holds so much emotion: contentment, love, and joy. We never got to experience it in the game, and so with just the existence of this picture, there was nothing left for me to do but imagine this heartwarming moment in my mind and interpret it for myself.

Judging by the picture itself, this must have happened between Pittsburgh and meeting Henry with Sam. They already have to know each other a bit, and they both still have their summer clothes. Ellie and Joel aren't that close just yet at this moment. But Joel is already far enough to let this girl make him laugh out loud.

I've always imagined that Joel cracking up could only be caused by one of Ellie's inappropriate jokes. We already know from the car scene that she's good with those, isn't she? And he'd never laugh out loud at her silly puns. She'd just make herself laugh, and he'd usually just find it cute but wouldn't let it show.

Who would have known that an adult joke from a quirky teenager would make his night?

[thedrarrylibrarian]

Hi do you have any fics where they break up and get back together?

Your holds have arrived!

Yes! I found so many great break up/make up fics, that I had to make it into two lists! The drama! The misunderstandings! The apologies and forgiveness! The make up sex! All of that sweet, sweet angst and resolution can be found in these awesome fics!

Check back next week for part two of this list!

Break Up/Make Up

time-tied by @wheezykat (154 words, rated T)

It's funny how everything seems to come back to this.

Alternatively, moments in time that tie Draco and Harry together.

Paris in the Rain by @drarrily-we-row-along (1,047 words, rated T)

Harry had really fucked up.

Fireflies by @gallifrey1sburning (1,144 words, rated G)

Over the quiet chorus of crickets and rustling leaves, he hears soft footsteps approaching, muffled by the loamy ground. Or maybe he feels it, more than hears it. Feels the presence of the person as they move to sit cross-legged next to him. Knows who it is, despite the fact that it’s been a year since he’s felt that buzzing awareness, that focus that warms the back of his neck but somehow also makes him want to shiver.

Slow Motion by @vina-writes (2,357 words, rated T)

He thinks about knocking on Harry’s door—about doing it four months ago, when Harry would press him into the wall and kiss him slowly enough that his legs turned to jelly and his mind went blank.

But Harry doesn’t miss him, because they don’t do kisses by the door anymore. After all, they were just fucking.

if the world was ending by saltwatergarden (4,238 words, rated M)

The world is ending again, but it's far less dramatic this time. Harry Potter tries to save the day. Draco wishes he wouldn't.

Nothing Left to Burn by @skeptiquewrites (5,134 words, rated E)

Over ten years after their fling crashed and burned, Harry runs into Draco and finds embers still burning bright. Sometimes your ex-lover is (metaphorically) dead. And sometimes it's summertime in Montreal and the past won't let go.

Take the Moon by @tackytigerfic (15,192 words, rated M)

Harry Potter has always wanted a family of his own, and when a deadly blood curse forces him into a marriage bond with his best friend Draco Malfoy, it looks like he might just have found one. It's just a shame they’d always planned to break up after a year…

The Ghosts of Hogwarts Past by @writcraft (30,071 words, rated E)

Draco has hardly had time to bask in his promotion to Head of Slytherin House when he gets news of Harry Potter’s return to Hogwarts. With his increased workload, the reappearance of the ex he never got over, the ghost that won’t let him sleep, and some curious coded diaries, it’s shaping up to be a hell of a year.

Inertia by @cavendishbutterfly (83,116 words, rated E)

It’s three months after the war. Harry has already mucked up all his plans. Draco is no longer the prince of Slytherin house. And they sure as hell didn’t both mean to go back to Hogwarts at the same time. Cue snarking, long conversations…and unexpected snogging.

This is the story of how Harry and Draco put their past aside. And then it's the story of how they finally learn to listen to it.

��️ As always, if you find a fic you enjoy, please remember to leave the author a kudos or a comment! ❤️

Lots of Love and Happy Reading!

[merbear25]

Spooky request!

Denmark

Camping

Zombie AU (can reader be the zombie? 🤭)

SFW

Go! 💪

Hello! Sorry this took longer than usual. I wasn't having an easy week, but I appreciate you sending something in for the event. I hope you like it 💜🧡

There weren't many chances for you two to see each other nowadays. With life feeling like it was getting away from you, there was no better bonding activity than camping to catch up. Much needed fresh air and quality time would be something you'd remember for the rest of your lives.

CW: SFW, gn!reader, could be read as platonic or romantic, mentions of survival situations, some fluff, some angst, reader is attacked, mentions of blood

Scary stories to tell in the dark (Denmark)

The campfire crackled and the embers danced in front of you. Beneath your feet the cold ground and dry leaves were blanketed in the soft glow of the fire. Each of its flames illuminated your campsite through the thick woods. The other campsites were some distance away, leaving your spec of light its own beacon in the darkness.

Stars hung overhead and the crickets chirped in the distance. Small ripples in the calm lake gave away the location of fish others were trying to capture earlier. Curling up next to each other, the chilly night time air was nullified from the extra body heat.

“Don’t you want to take your marshmallow out?” You side-eyed him.

“And take away that super concentrated surgery layer? No way!” He laughed. His eyes sparkled at the blackened coat. “Now it’s perfect, see?”

You chuckled at him as he nearly blew the flaming gooey mess right off the rod. Eating your sweet treats, the orange glow dancing on your faces, and the good company gave you peace of mind.

“You know, with it being so close to Halloween, it’d be pretty silly not to share scary stories.” The excitement in his voice carried over the treetops.

“Oh? And have you got any?”

“Of course, I do!” Shoving the remainder of his crispy marshmallow in his mouth, he hurriedly chewed as he began the story. “There’s a rumor around these parts of a chemical spill from the plant some ways away from here. The scientists working there were experimenting with things that they didn’t have the best understanding of, which led to something that they could not control—a zombie virus.”

“Really?” Your amusement was thinly covering your disbelief.

“Yes, really! They thought that they had got rid of it all, but some of the vials had gone missing. No one knows who could’ve taken them or what they planned to do with them. Some try to give themselves some peace of mind by saying that somewhere through all the panic and regret that the number of vials were fudged, but I think that one of those scientists pocketed them and is just waiting—waiting for the perfect opportunity to bring society to its knees.” He was inching towards you, carrying the final blows of the story with as much intensity as his carefree spirit would allow.

For a moment, a paranoid bug crawled up your pant leg and nipped at your skin. A shudder spread over your body when you heard the faint snapping of a stick behind you in the distance. Watching your skepticism turn to fright was all he could’ve asked for. He couldn’t help himself as his laughter killed the tense mood he’d set.

“You should see your face!”

“That wasn’t funny!”

“Yes, it was!” Laughter still flowing past his lips, he slung his arm around you and pulled you into a side hug. His cheeks reddened from the enjoyment of being there with you and sharing stories with each other made your irritation for him having scared you melt.

You put your arm around him, returning his affection. “What am I going to do with you?” When he threw his other arm around you, you did the same, pulling each other into a bear-like hug. After having spent what seemed like forever away from the other, it felt nice to finally share this time with him.

“Ah! You’re squeezing me too hard!” He squirmed out of your grip.

“Where are you going?”

“Nature calls!” He shouted as he disappeared into the woods.

Sitting there, waiting for him, you tapped the toes of your boots together. With no cell towers in the area, getting a signal would be a miracle, which meant you two were given the rare opportunity to enjoy nature in its entirety—and you were already bored without him.

However, the twinkling lights of the stars were a nice change from the ones in the city. The constellations stood out to you, letting their stories live on through the eyes that peered up at them. Serenity was something that was hard to come by, but taking this trip was helping you appreciate the parts of life that were passing you by.

Another stick snapped behind you, making you roll your eyes. “Don’t you think you’ve ruined the spooky mood? You can’t scare me now.” Clumsy steps of what sounded like dragging feet grew nearer. “Oh, come on. Give it up.” Turned in your seat, you barely had a chance to catch the breath that was stolen right out of your lungs. Lunging at you with a mouth torn to shreds and foggy colored eyes was a creature escaped from the shackles of hell itself.

The force of it sent you hurtling towards the ground, narrowly escaping the grasp of the scorching flames. Cries for help churned your stomach as the animalistic strength from above quickly tore away at your will to keep it at bay. Your elbow buckled, giving it leverage straight to your ear. Blood curdling screams echoed across the still lake before your attacker was thrown off of you. Without a moment of hesitation, its brains were splattered across the sandy ground.

Tears flowed freely down your blood-soaked cheek as Mathias came to your side. Any words of comfort and support fell on deaf ears to no fault of his own. The shock was sending your brain into a tailspin of emotions and made your sobs of fear and agony pound furiously in your head.

“We need to get you to a hospital!” The urgency went hand-in-hand with uncertainty. Even without your sense of self remaining, he scooped you up in his arms and carried you to the car. Laying you down in the back as gently as he could, the sprint around to the driver’s seat couldn’t have felt longer.

Speeding down the beaten paths onto the main road had every reckless turn and shift completely void of any sense of danger. Doubts set in: he didn’t hesitate to kill that person. Images of it flashed in his mind, but it had all happened so fast that he was confusing reality with figments of his imagination. Was it a person who was just extremely sick or something more sinister? The question muddied his sense of judgment and now weighed on his heart.

Your sobs were choked as you attempted to call out to him. “It hurts!”

“I… I bet it does! But I’ll get you there soon, just hang in there!” Heavy breathing and heart pounding covered the revving engine. Soon your sobs died down to whimpers, causing his chest to heave and tears to swell up in his eyes. “H-Hey! Come on! Don’t fall asleep, stay awake for me, okay?” When there was no response he cursed himself for not having gotten back soon enough.

If only he hadn’t gone so far into the woods. If only he hadn’t shared that dumb story with you. If only he had taken the time to check his rearview mirror.

The drone of a car horn climbed higher than those trees ever could, letting the world listen to the beginning of the end as the crashed vehicle left smoke billowing around it.

[disproportionatelysculpting]

I was so caught up in my head thinking of everything I never got to do, an hour passed by, legs were as numb as my mind and something in me had this urge.. to get dressed up afterall, thats the only thing that makes me feel seen anymore.. so I did, I put on my favourite dress, a muted pink dress with polka dots all over it like stars, and the cardigan that my mother gifted on my birthday few ages ago.. its not even that cold yet, but I'm wearing it, it makes me less homesick, even if I am standing in my own house. The cardigan is yellow, contrasting to the dress's muted tone, bright like the sun. People say it suits me, makes me look happy.

I went out for a walk, passing by the local shops and unfamiliar faces on streets. How similar yet different it is each day, new people same old vendors, new items same old counters.. I have passed by my whole life, the buildings along the path grew up with me,

The sun was still up enough to make one dehydrated, so I went to a sweet shop, ate some aloo chop and a nice cup of adrak wali chai.

After that roamed around my city, funny how I finally feel this city as my own, after all those year looking for a place to belong, feeling lost in the same places I visited and took some pictures of.. cafes, streets, parks... all the places that have memories.. such a bitter sweet feeling remembering the good and bad times, afterall indeed the memories painted the city as my own, even if I am a small, really small part of it.

I finally made my way to the highest point of my city, as tired as I was, I was worth all the steps, that I took before I reached here.

It was the magical time of sunset, Just the right time to see the sky dissolve from day into night. There is something really poetic in the sunsets, countless poems have been written about it, many more songs, and pictures have been taken, the peace in seeing the vastness of this world, the coincidental perfect settings to make this beauty exist. No wonder it is loved by so many people, the sunset, but I find myself drawn into the moments after sunset more..

The way world that seems lost underneath the sunlight, lights up one at a time as the darkness hovers, each and every existence is accounted, the galaxy on the ground.

One last story I post, of the scenery. And as habit, I click on and go through all the photos I took today, how pretty the mundane looks even now, life seems pretty okay if it fits in the 6 inches with a very specific perspective on.

I sit there taking in all of this, with earphones in and songs that have all the memories associated, I made that playlist a few days ago, to remember everything, one last time. I keep wondering about the purpose, the struggles and everyone we go throught in this life, all seem so small from here.

A lot of time has passed, the sun is set and the lights are gone, as usual, it won't be back for next hour, all the lives are lost again, this time into darkness.

I love this one hour, to honor this love, I take a selfie, smiling, and it was genuine, the sense of finally.. I switch off my phone and just look at the sky

...the sky is clear no clouds, just endless galaxy twinkling upon my head. It is a cold calm night, silence feels so good with the wind breezing slowly distant cricket chirps and the hustling crowds noises far in the city...

continued..

[kairithemang0]

Have you ever written a curtwen stargazing fic or drabble or what have you?

no i haven't however i'll glad give you one bcs I've thought about making one for ages. This isn't too much stargazing, but idk I like it

Curt felt his chest rise and fall against his palm, eyes half closed as Owen brushed his fingers along his hand, humming gently as crickets chirped in the nearby bushes. Curt's mothers' home was surrounded by shrubs, trees swayed in the dull light of the moon, fireflies danced across their vision. They had caught fireflies together earlier in the night, only letting them go before they lay against the blanket they had brought out earlier in the day.

That day felt almost too normal, too perfect. The weather was crisp and warm, shirts were stained so perfectly from the yardwork Mrs. Mega had tasked them with to keep them busy. Curt was never a fan of chores, but something about doing them with Owen, who kept his sleeves rolled up and jacket around his waist, hair tied back using one of his mother's ties? He looked far too stunning, Curt couldn't take it. He wanted to tackle him to the ground and punch him across the face, before holding him there, head pressed against his neck leaving dark hickeys he knew Owen wasn't a fan of.

Owen lay beside him now, fingers touching his skin. Curt heard him roll over, felt his hand grace his cheek as he forced a glance from his partner, before smiling into Curt's gentle eyes, "I'm exhausted," he muttered, hearing Curt let out a faint laugh. He rolled over too, to match Owen. Their legs interlocked, skin to skin, pulling each other closer. Curt closed his eyes for a moment, feeling Owen press their foreheads together with a faint laugh, "I feel so damn sore."

"Me too," Curt muttered, hearing Owen let out a yawn before turning back to the sky, "Back home did you ever do stargazing?"

Owen shook his head, leaning up using his elbows that wrinkled the blanket, his arms covered by his dark gray jacket. Curt missed when he could see every scar on them, but this wasn't so bad. He liked this jacket, it was one he'd steal if Owen let him. He already had enough of his jackets though.

"We were never in a good area for it. Too much light," Owen frowned, eyes tracing the twinkling stars that painted the midnight sky, "I went on a camping trip with my mates once, that was fun. We got to watch the stars for a bit that night. I wish I got to enjoy it then."

Curt rolled back onto his back, looking up at the sky, "I wish they were more visible here."

Owen nodded, finding Curt's hand again, "One of these days we'll go camping. Maybe while I'm here we could. If there's any good grounds around here."

Curt let out a faint sigh, breath disappearing into the delicate air of night, "Sounds fun," he smiled, letting his eyes close as he rolled over closer to Owen, body pressed against his, "It's cold out here."

"Do you want to go inside and grab a jacket?" Owen asked, feeling Curt wrap his arms around his side. "I take that as a no," Owen chuckled, feeling Curt nod his head against him, as if he were a small dog pressing against him in affection and warmth. Owen was never one to deny Curt affection, not at a time like this. He'd only be cruel enough to when he was in the mood to torture Curt, when watching his desperation was cute.

It's funny, a year ago when they started this, Curt was horrified to go anywhere near Owen, as if he'd catch a cold from his partners lips. He had lost that fear, now unable to keep himself from pressing against Owen, from feeling his hands.

"I'm going to bed," Owen rolled over, feeling Curt's hands wrap around his side.

Curt muttered a soft "Alright," into the back of Owen's neck, feeling his partner's heartbeat against his palm, a smile forming on his face as he felt it rise and fall ever so slightly, before he found his eyes close.

Maybe tomorrow he and Owen would find a good spot in the woods nearby, maybe they'd camp. Look out at the stars before Owen had to leave. Curt almost forgot they still had work to do, that Owen would be leaving Texas on Monday morning, that he would be unsure if he'd ever see him again. He hoped he'd see him again, although of course, nothing is set in stone with a job like theirs.

[faux-ecrivain]

Trouble at Midnight

(Name’s Donald Harper Volte)

(Twenty Sixth Official Post)

(I don’t know if Harper counts as a yandere, but trigger warning for being buried alive, toxic relationships and violence.)

(Apologies for any grammar mistakes, I forgot to proofread, but I’ll fix it later.)

———————————————————————

        “Donnie what El infierno are you doing?” A sharp voice disturbs the silence of the darkened forest catching the attention of all nearby animals, including a young man named Donald. A stupid name in your opinion, but then again you think everything’s stupid. Donnie’s head pops out of a hole and swivels to your direction, mud and dirt stick to his face. A smile is one his face, a very menacing smile. “[Y/N]! You’re early!” He chirps, then crawls out of the rather deep hole. He dusts off his shorts and grabs a nearby shovel, he approaches you and hands the tool to you. “Temprano? Donnie, why’d you call me here?” You inquire brashly,  your patience running thin. 

       He doesn’t respond and instead urges you to grab the shovel, you exhale and yank the shovel from his hands. He giggles and drags you over to the hole. “Come on, we’ve got to finish before sunrise!” You groan, your arms already feeling tired and you haven’t even started digging. “Donnie, answer my question.” You respond firmly, making your way in front of him and preventing him from moving forward. He gasps, drops the shovel and puts his hands on his hips. Donald harrumphs and glares at you, but it’s hard to take him seriously. Which is why you start to chuckle, quietly at first and yet the longer you stare at his face the more you laugh.

     Of course, Donald never did like being laughed at and maybe that’s why he hit you over the head with his shovel, and then buried you alive. You were out for hours and when you woke up, you couldn’t see anything, you couldn’t move and you were freaking out. You claw blindly as you try to escape, you pray (despite how you feel about religion) that you’re going the right way. That you’ll be able to see the sky once again and when you do finally climb your way out, you’re greeted with the sight of a beautiful sky, and the rise of the sun. 

        Sadly your joy is short lived as Donald is there to greet you and this time he doesn’t hit with a rusted shovel. Nope, he smirks and approaches you, slowly as though to taunt you. You growl and lunge at him, or rather his feet because that’s all you can reach at the moment. He jumps back and giggle again. “[Y/N]! Don’t tease me right now! I’m trying to be serious.” Donald says, his tone is playful and it’s clear he doesn’t take this situation very seriously. You roll your eyes and slouch against the ground. Donnie smiles, overjoyed by your supposed obedience. He hesitantly approaches and then carefully crouches beside you. He pokes your face repeatedly, but then halts because you try to bite his finger. “Ouch! [Y/N]! You almost hurt me, hmph.” He crosses his arms and pouts, although it isn’t a serious pout and he starts giggling again. 

      You groan and begin to regret ever meeting Donnie. “Donnie, quit playing around! I’m mad at you.” You swat his hand and lay your head on the ground, it’s cold and somewhat refreshing. Donald harrumphs, again, and stops poking you. He crosses his legs and lifts your head into his lap, he sighs (strangely content) and runs his fingers through your hair. It’s silent and neither one of you volunteer to break that silence. You can hear the chirp of crickets and the hoot of owls, the wind blows and your guard lowers. You find yourself yawning and fighting sleep, which of course Donald finds funny and he starts giggling (quieter this time). You grumble, but bury your face in his lap. “Sorry [Y/N].” He apologizes, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. You tilt your head up to face him, your brows furrowed and a curious expression on your face. “For what?” Your say, after all being buried alive isn’t uncommon and he’s never apologized before. 

      He sighs and leans back, his right hand placed on the ground to keep him steady. He plays with your hair and a soft expression is seen on his face. “For hitting you with a shovel. Does it still hurt?” He gently touches your wound, causing you to wince and him to retract his hand. “Sorry, again, hehe!” Donald apologizes, giggling nervously as he does so. You huff and tell him not to worry about it. “It’s not a asunto importante, just get over it, Donnie.” He sighs again, but it’s a soft sigh, the sort of sigh a boy in love makes. You’re so forgiving and he loves you so very much, he doesn’t know what he’d do if you ever left. “Ah, [Y/N], you’re so nice to me. Keep that up and I won’t let you go.” He teases you with a giggle, but his words are sincere. You exhale, too exhausted to deal with Donald’s weirdness and way too hungry to care about how he feels. “Hmph, whatever Donnie…” You sigh and wrap your arms around his waist, unfortunately some dirt gets on his shirt, but he doesn’t care. 

     It’s peaceful and quiet for a moment, then Donnie begins to talk again. “[Y/N].” He starts, catching your attention. “Hm?” You respond. “Stop calling me Donnie, my name’s Harper.” He stops playing with your hair, tugs on it a bit and tilts your head up. A chill goes down your spine and you don’t even know why, Donnie, I mean Harper, isn’t that terrifying and you can take him in a fight. (Provided he doesn’t hit you with a shovel) “Did you hear me, [Y/N]?” He inquires, his tone playful and his smile gleeful. Yet, you have a feeling his joy is just a facade. 

       You clear your throat and nod (or try to, at least), but he wants a verbal confirmation. “What’s that, [Y/N]? I can’t hear you~” He draws out his words with a melodic tone. “Yeah, Don-Harper, I heard you.” You almost called him Donnie again, luckily you caught yourself. “Do you understand, honey?” Harper calling you honey is never good, it usually predates a violent outburst and extended time underground. “Yep, I understand Harper…”  You pliantly agree and try to hide your face in his lap. He giggles, amused by your behavior and lets go of your hair. He pats your head and smooths out your hair. “Sorry, honey, that was so mean of me.” He places a kiss on your temple, which causes you to shiver again, and then resumes running his hands through your tresses. “You’re so precious [Y/N], I don’t deserve you!” He giggles and leans on the ground, you groan as you readjust to follow his movements. He moves far too much for you to ever get comfortable. Although, despite the stillness of the night, you can’t let your guard down as you’re still recovering for his strange behavior.

Harper is so strange and you doubt you’ll ever understand him.

(So, I don’t know Spanish and used google translate for the Spanish you speak.)

(Also, sorry if it isn’t the best, i wrote this pretty quick and hopefully you’ll still enjoy it!)

[badbanaynas]

SINCE IM HERE i wann agive my raw quick match ratings/thoughts!!!

willow / ishii vs kris / stoke: so fun!! i wish we had more intergender fighting , but tony is coward so... 💫💫.5

latter match: LOVE.. i love the wackiness of latter matches, i loveed loved loved lucha in it i love how much they're dragging out the eventual moment lucha eats christiAN. i also liked that pac, yuta, and claudio won, very different and fun! 💫💫💫💫

gauntlet match: this was pretty fun too! was hoping jay white would show up but ALAS... i was really into christian running in for another chance at a belt because he CANNOT be beltless. it was awesome.. i love him.. AND LUCHA....AUGH...i kno there was some disappointment that hangman didn't win but i also think there's this shared idea that hangman is the main character of the show and deserves everything.. like no he dont! he's MEAN! and there's a story being told with him obviously, it wasnt this one. 💫💫

tony vs mariah: this shit was SO GOOD, i dont know why it was SO early in the show tho? they def should have switched slots with the tbs match...anyways it was pretty emotional , the way it PAINED toni to fight mariah.. she still loves her despite it all, and mariah feels nothing.. YES! 💫💫💫💫

jericho vs hook: why do we keep letting jericho have matches in the main show? why don't we zero hour this bitch and eliminate him once and for ALL...? dont get me started on hook.. he's just not good, he has NO juice. there's no reason to want him to win his belt besides the fact that his dad created it. and if its so important to uphold the family legacy then why not.. like make it important? why not have taz be like ' im gonna disown you if you lose this belt again' or something? there's NO stakes and hook suplexes like he's gonna leap out of the ring bc he has NO CONTROL CAUSE HE'S FUCKING 2 PPOUNDS BUT FIGHTS LIKE HE's JUICED. i DID like him throwing the cricket balls tho, that was really funNY. 💫.5

bucks vs ftw vs acclaimed: daddy ass looked SO CUUUTEE ^_^! (NO STARS)

mjf vs ospreay: 90% of this match felt like we were in the middle of a commercial break... why were they on the ground so much. why where they SO WINDED.. very boring, ospreay's ADVERTISEMENT entrance STUNK as well. this whole feud just could have not happened and i think things would have been fine....see in the jericho and hook match i can at least name a moment i thought was fun .. not so much this match, just a whole DUD..glad we got to see danny again tho, i know he WILL SLAY. 💫

britt vs mercedes: i anticipated this one the most cause i wanted to see if mercedes could carry britt to a decent match.. but it seems when you're working with someone as limp as THE DENTIST , it's just impossible. i feel bad for mercedes because she deserves better than to have the DMD thrown onto her lap like that. im glad she retained but i dont think these two will have another feud for a while...TO THE PERFORMANCE CENTER BRITTANY!! 💫 ( all stars are for merecedes)

jack vs darby: UGHH i wanted to love this one but it was just too short! this felt like being edged and then just getting over with the rest.. everything that happened was fun and good but it all just hAPPENED AND THEN ENDED. i dont like darby at all, but it didnt make darby look too good. he wasnt the challenge that he made himself out to be.. i dont blame either men because i truly think they were just rushed for time , because that's what it felt like. i am glad jack retained tho, he deserves it! i rthink the moment where the crowd starts doing his lil emote with him over the pile of glass was beautiful. a nice contrast to where he was last year at this time! im looking forward to who challenges him next, and i hope we see him more on tv now. >_> 💫💫

swerve vs brian: AUGH......SO GOOOD... swerve looked very pretty tonight, i loved his hair cuffs! bryan as always, just knows how to play a crowd he's a sicko that lives off upsetting people and i think thts really great :-)!! im glad bryan won, but i cant help but feel so sad when seeing swerve on the ground like that.. i wish swerve could have retained but i think thats what makes the match really good. you pick someone to root for and you can root for either of them honestly, both are great.. im glad it was bryan he lost the belt to than hangman honestLY...deducting points for no shaka khan tho... 💫💫💫💫

[mirandacaroll]

one of the things i like most about the english language is that it can so.. politely surprise itself (??)

take this:

"For those of you who've just tuned in, you may be interested to know that, er ... two men, two rather scruffily attired men, and indeed a sofa — a Chesterfield I think?"

"Yes, a Chesterfield."

"Have just materialized here in the middle of Lord's Cricket Ground.”

indeed!!! this is such a fucking funny and understated little moment bc of that ONE word that i, at least, would have no idea how to translate. (But then I did fail my translation studies final)