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maxwell-grant · 2 years ago

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(AO3 link in case you’d prefer to read this there)

(The following text includes excerpts from: Private files and tapes of the A.I Gilbert “Gazebo”’, the field diary of Miss Ion, interviews with the NYU Emancipators Vulturine and Hayato, Yr Fgenar Fgbevr qv Noma Lacri #000-∞, and articles by The Daily Roger.) (FOR DOCTOR SANDRA KIRIGAMI’S EYES ONLY)

--------------------------ACCESS FILES------------------------

DAILY ROGER REPORT: October 13th, 1937 CHAOS AT HARPER MILL! A NEW MYSTERY MAN HOAX? Ongoing conflict between the Harper Mill workers and strikebreakers have escalated, as what was believed to be a surprise terrorist militia among the strikers is now reported, by multiple witnesses, to be instead the work of a single man. Said to operate in masked attire, under the cover of darkness, and with mysterious abilities yet to be determined. Is this a ploy by the Harper Mill strikes to generate fear or sympathy, or is this yet another Manhattan “Mystery Man” emerging? Who is this mysterious figure?

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

DR. KIRIGAMI: Thank you all for joining this meeting. I understand that some of you have approached me with concerns regarding the, conduct, of our most recent recruit, and some members of this board have expressed a desire to relocate him to our West Coast facility, or expel him from Emancipator membership entirely. Mr. Bill is willing to accept consequences for his assault on Director Vijgen. He has also expressed rather, colorfully, that he "would do it again" if deemed necessary.

I have called this meeting together so I could offer my viewpoint, as his appointed psychologist, and with the backing of his teammates, as to why I believe he should be allowed to remain a member of the NYU Emancipators, for the time being.

Let us review the facts, regarding the case of

--------------*click*-----------------------

I was, out of commission when he showed up. I reviewed the footage later on the team's cameras and, well, I'd say his name really does do him justice. He shows up quick as a cannonball, bursting through my outer layer and fighting off the bloody things He seemed to have considerable experience fighting them off, and a not so considered regard for his own safety. A total stranger who had underwent a great deal of personal harm and given us enough time and luck to pull a miracle, and give Miss Noma enough time to fix me. I certainly expected no different, of course, but I'm glad the team brought him along. It would be most unseemly to leave him to die on that, awful place.

GILBERT “Gazebo”: Artificial Intelligence, built by former team leader of the NYU Emancipators Andy “Hunk” Huxley. Currently transcribing these files. Hullo!

“Yeah, you could tell this guy was, like, reaally old-school. Prolly took a mammoth to school instead of a bus, right? You know those homemade costume parties you see in family pictures, those really embarrassing ones? He was dressed like that. I didn't even think guys like these, with the underwear and capes and all, actually existed for real, I thought the president or whoever just made em up to sell war stamps.”

VULTURINE: Civilian name Marco Craine. African-American male, 22. New Orleans-based vigilante. Inhuman physiology, liquid-manipulation powers. Claims to be a vampire, possibly part of a concentrated effort in his part to make his powers seem cool instead of gross.

“...I slipped up, should have seen them coming, too many of them coming at us, of course others wouldn't be able to tell in time, cволочь Huxley... Wait, sorry, I, rambling, yes. He, -cough-, Mr.Bill really saved us, just now. I don't know how he went undetected by the morksaya. Me and Noma observed, his readings aren't that different from ours. A little more faint, yes and, they shouldn’t be. His missing teeth and injured ribs don't seem like recent injuries either and… Look I'm, I gotta go back to medical bay, I'm assisting in fixing up the man, making sure he didn't bring anything with him from the canal, and he’s not taking the mask off so they need me to scan for head injuries, can we do this later? K, davai.

MISS ION: Civilian name Kristi Kartoshka. Russian female, 31. Powers include proton manipulation for combat, evasive maneuvers, and healing purposes. Engineering background.

Not-Supposed-To-Be-There. Nowhere-Man. Sad-Man Not-Supposed-To-Be-Here. Ignorant-0F-Himself-Man. Liar-Man No-Place-For-That-Man. Wants-To-Find-Man-Again...Good-Man.

NOMA LACRI: Civilian name and age unknown. Confirmed to have been born human of Italian descent. Has gone by Maria or Lisa on separate occasions, should investigate further You-Will-Not.

“I know, I know, superhero stuff but, it's weird, it's, dude that's, that's Cannon freaking Bill! He's like this old, old guy that my grandpa used to fight with, and part of the team now. Man he's, shorter than I expected and, oh he just saved our as-butts, my bad, by barreling through a wall and wrestling those weird mech-zombies trying to kill us. Like, whaat? It's crazy!...Kinda sus that he was in the Deep Shit Canal* in the first place tho, I mean -”

HAYATO: Civilian name Jeremy Axton. Japanese-American, 24. Millionaire crimefighter based around Lexington, Kentucky. Wielder of the Inkpot Staff and it’s varied magical abilities. Passed out from exertion after giving this statement.

(*"Deep Shit Canal" refers to the uncharted location colloquially known as Desert Snow Canal. Mr.Axton and Mr.Craine both claim innocence in coining that particular variation.)

—----------*click*------------------

DAILY ROGER REPORT: May 24, 1938 CANNON BILL STRIKES AGAIN! The masked terrorist known as Snake Mist was apprehended this morning after a bombing attempt, along with most members of his cult, one of which was revealed to be Senator Jim Vijgen. Press statements reveal that Snake and Vijgen were apprehended by a local masked hero known in the neighborhood as “Cannon Bill”. He was last spotted during the arrest of legbreaker Bart Langley, and has been spotted operating within Morrisania, Little Brazil, Bronx, and even on Staten Island. Cannon Bill spoke briefly with the press and promptly hailed a cab away from the scene. Local police suspect that Cannon Bill might not have been acting alone, as the bomb defusion and Snake’ss apprehending were executed within minutes and at considerable distances from each other. It is unknown whether this Mystery Man has any affiliation with the likes of The Stygian Ant, Colleen Dice or Father Hatchet.

DAILY ROGER REPORT: October 16, 1939 BODYCOUNT RISES AS MONSTER ATTACK CONTINUES Father Hatchet disappeared from his cell last night as his gang, led by a mysterious new lieutenant only known as Frère Jacques, continues to run rampant throughout the Seventh Avenue. Frère Jacques, who appears to be a 10-feet-tall Frankenstein-esque being in friar clothing, appears immune to gunfire, and has reportedly even defeated local hero Cannon Bill in combat. Cannon Bill’s current whereabouts are unknown, as he was retrieved by a passing car quickly after falling from the top of an 8th story building where, reportedly, Hatchet and his gang where holding out.

—----------N-O-M-A-----------------

Doesn't-See-Me-Like-Monster. See-Himself-Like-Monster. Monster-Took-Him-Away.

—-----------*click*----------------

DR. KIRIGAMI: The Emancipators were performing a rescue mission on realm WN-34, at the Desert Snow Canal, a dangerous and hostile river surrounded by broken remnants of a bygone civilization. Said river is made up of a black powder that falls from the skies, concentrated within the canal. It isn’t harmful to human touch, but it has pitfalls, and it hides the real danger of these lands: The “Chrono-Cadavers”, as Gilbert calls them, you’ve all received reports on the cadavers and how they function, what seems to be their origin or leader. Our limited understanding of how these creatures function was a problem for the eventuality of having to face them, and part of the reason Huxley volunteered to go.

The Emancipators had traveled to dimension WN-34 in order to rescue their team leader, Andy Huxley, who had been stranded there on a recon assignment and sent a distress signal. We now understand that this was part of a plan.

As you are aware, your fellow board member, Director Vijgen, and Huxley had worked out a ploy together to ensure that the team's trip to the Desert Snow Canal would go awry, that the team would be caught unprepared and face a potential catastrophe that would only be averted through a last-ditch rescue from Huxley, who would reappear fending off the creatures with the Mark H battlesuit. The built-in cameras and microphones within the ship would have recorded said events and stored it in our database.

Capitalizing off the tragedy, it was Huxley’s intent to outfit the team with Mark H battlesuits and use them to test said suits, before inevitably mass-producing them and lending them out to V.A.P.O.R field agents, and from those, to the US military, or whoever paid the highest bidder. In order to kickstart this, Vijgen would have used this incident to push for more urgent measures within this board of directors, and if voted otherwise, said footage would leak to the media. Positive press for Huxley and the suits, negative press for anyone who vetoed against their usage, public whipped into a frenzy at the sight of a horrid threat only a new super-weapon could stop.

Either way, both Huxley and Vijgen would get what they wanted. A rather predictable plan, really, but nobody on the team was onto it.

There was one little hiccup, however: Huxley never showed up.

---------MISS ION-------------

GOD DAMN IT, I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT WAS A TRAP. I WAS SO STUPID, HOW DID I NOT- …..

Breathe, girl, breathe. It’s fine. Everyone is fine. We came back without casualties and all injuries fixed, and we rescued the man who rescued us back there. We averted the unthinkable. Breathe.

……….

The audacity of that bastard. I’m not even sure if we should tell the rest of the Emancipators? I mean, we’ll have to, but I’m scared if any of the other teams still think Huxley’s coming back, or even should come back. I don’t think it’s sunk in for the rest of them how we were betrayed. We’re all still a little shaken over it all.

I don’t wanna be the one to break it to them how it happened, that he did make contact just before the morskaya struck. I didn’t understand it fast enough, when I’d heard him talk to Gazebo and the director over the intercom:

"Sorry, mate. I got a better offer elsewhere."

—------HAYATO AND VULTURINE----------

“I got claws, I got teeth, I can fly, I can suck blood, what else is missing?”

“You don’t even drink blood, first of all, and you can’t be a vampire if you can go out in the sun, bro”

“Yes I can, that just makes me a better vampire.”

“No it - wait, yeah, we gotta focus, we’re doing a thing about Bill”

“Yeah, Bill. See, Bill didn’t give me shit about whether I’m a “real” vampire or not, and I’d only known him for like three days. He didn’t do that thing everyone else does where they’re like, oh hey it’s Kid Dracula hahaha, oh but vampires are not real, oh you’re just LARPing like, dude, shut up. How come all of you go around calling yourself Captain Fantastic Man just cause you dress funny, but I can’t be a vampire cause you don’t think the way I do it counts? Where’s the respect?”

“Oh yeah bro, you’re a real masterclass in respect”

“Zip it, Tweety. Point is, Bill didn’t do that. And, y’know, that was cool.”

“He was going to stake you through the heart the second he woke up and saw you.”

“Well, duh, that’s what the rest of you SHOULD have done, if you took this hero thing seriously.”

—------*click*------

DR KIRIGAMI: Upon his recovery, I assisted Cannon Bill in the process of adjusting to his new environment. Contrary to what his teammates expected, he had his memory intact, and he had jumped forward in time from the 1980s, instead of the 1940s. It seems he was one more victim of the, well, You-Know-What, as reports indicate he was injured even before battling the cadavers.

Our means of temporal travel were damaged, and we needed as much help as possible following Huxley’s betrayal and the pressing need to eventually re-enter WN-34, but we promised Bill to take him back to his time period as soon as possible, an offer he refused. For private reasons, he deemed it important that he stay behind and work with us to fix the problem. The problem being, successions of hundreds of other problems big and small but, one step at a time better than no step at all. That is how Cannon Bill joined the Emancipators. That is how he became my patient as well.

I find it imperative to bring this up because, and it must be stressed, that Cannon Bill joined us entirely of his own volition. That he rejected the option to return home, an option he still has should he so desire, to instead remain here in this strange distant future.

And yes, it goes without saying that his stay here hasn’t been without frustrations.

--------*click*---------

Bill has been rather sturdy, in his resistance to cooperation. All members of the Manhattan Emancipators wear suits wired to my communications hub, standard procedure. No earpieces, those were troublesome, the ear coverings built into the suits take care of that. But... Well, forgive me if I sound petty but, he doesn’t seem to like me very much - “Gazebo”

Sensory overload. Well he, didn’t call it that, the term wasn’t known in his time, but it was pretty clearly what he was trying to describe when I asked him. I can relate, yes, even if ours is different. He gets very uncomfortable with jarring noises as well as having his ears blocked or even touched by anything. He joked that he lost his front tooth making sure a neighborhood bully "got the memo" and that his mikvah took forever just because he kept complaining to the rabbi about getting his ears wet, and his Ma never let him live that down. We're finding workarounds to communicate with him on the field. - MISS ION’s Field Diary

“Oh dude he did NOT like Gazebo at all, it was pretty funny. I mean, I'm mostly used to tuning that thing out, but Bill? He spent a couple of training sessions looking like he was gonna pull a Van Gogh on the spot everytime Gazebo gave him directions, or patched him over to someone, or cracked banter in that Monty Python voice he's got. Wish we did city training just so he'd flip a car or something” - VULTURINE

“I think he'd kill me if I said "ok boomer" in earshot” - HAYATO

“Nobody uses that joke anymore, idiot. Besides he's like, pre-boomer, he's gotta be like silent generation or something. Wasn't he middle-aged when your grandpa was active?” - VULTURINE

.”..Actually yeah, he was grandpa's senior, when was this guy born exactly?” - HAYATO

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

DAILY ROGER REPORT: November 22, 1940 MYSTERY MEN JOIN THE WAR EFFORT A local coalition has reached the Daily Roger to announce their existence. Consisting of several local “super-heroes”, they have announced the formation of a group in order to join the upcoming war effort and provide assistance to the Allied forces. Calling themselves the “Camelot Circle of America”, the group’s leader has reached out to the press with the intent of transparency with the public, with the hopes of acquiring trust in such difficult times.

Among the super-heroes present within this group is our local bruiser “Cannon Bill”, who makes his first public appearance in over a year, showing what seems to be a full recovery from his battle with the monstrous criminal Frère Jacques. He declined to speak with the press on any affairs.

—-----Gazebo--------------

He did join the Camelot Circle of America along with Mr Axton's grandfather, but after that, very little from 1945-onwards. He wasn't around for the team's disbanding in 1952. Some news reports in the late 40s, 50s, 60s, and nothing in the 70s and 80s until the, You-Know-What, happened. And obviously he was there, no superhero or supervillain at the time, active or retired or even dead, could ignore the call at You-Know-What.

Said You-Know-What seems to be how he wound up in the Desert Snow Canal in costume. I'd heard of some superheroes who survived the event and were found weeks, months, even years later, stranded in locations without memories of how they got there or who they were. But he's been very clear that he remembers everything. That he did join the fight, during You-Know-What, and that he took off from home. He must have known he'd wind up somewhere he couldn't come back from.

Which raises the possibility that he wanted to be there.

—------N-O-M-A---------

"You-gotta-get-up, partner, we-can't-stay-here, gotta-stop-them, we'll-make-it-through-this-I-promise-but-please-get-up, get-up, get-up, get-up, get-up, get-up, get-up…"

What-This-What-You Leave-Man-Alone LEAVE-Past-Alone

----------Miss Ion’s Personal Diary---------

I was actually not that surprised to find out he was a cat guy. You all think it's nonsense when I tell you, cat people can recognize each other, but it's true. I knew that cranky slab of concrete had a soft spot somewhere. I’d say I probably made a lot of progress today in getting him to use smartphones just by showing all the pictures of Miya I can store and look at whenever I feel like it. I joked that back in his day he’d probably have to carry photos in his wallet to do that, and then he just pulled a dusty wallet from his belt with, what else, some cat pictures.

I forgot to write this early but, Bill is actually a veterinarian. Or, was, he’s not practicing now but, from what he told me, way back after the war was over and he decided to retire from superhero work, he wanted to go back to school and “make something out of himself”, get a degree and everything. And so he wound up becoming a veterinarian.

I asked why he didn't become a doctor outright, and he said he didn't think he was smart enough for it, and that he also thinks all doctors with superpowers or super-tech end up going bad. That there's a "pipeline" from getting a degree to costumed terrorism. I, I do get it. I don't think that's universally true (maybe we should ask Dr Kirigami about this next session) but, I get his reasoning all too well.

He did tell me that sometimes he was asked to patch up some heroes who couldn’t get proper medical attention, and he didn’t like it very much, but “them’s the breaks”. I don’t get what that means. He was offered to get his teeth fixed in here and he refused, said it "keeps me smart, keeps me from being too much of a wise guy". Does he think being wise and being smart are opposites? Probably some cartoon expression that makes more sense to English speakers.

I do think it's upsetting that he downplays his intelligence like that. I've seen him on field, when he stops throwing himself at problems and actually listens and thinks, he is very quick on his feet and good at counter-planning. But even besides that, didn't he create the alkaline formula that gave him his powers? He seemed rather confused by my questions and I left it at that.

He doesn't ask me invasive questions, least I could do is return the favor.

—-----HAYATO AND VULTURINE-----------

“We did find common ground on one thing: The costumes. They suck! I mean, YOU can afford bulletproofing those giant shiny wings to fly around in, but me and the girls have been stuck making do with drab pajamas for way too long and hey, turns out even the dinosaur agrees with me on that. I'm a vampire! Not dressing up in style’s practically a death sentence”

“It’s not like we all dress up the same, bro. I don’t know what it is with you and Ion, Noma never complains about her uniform.”

“Dude, Noma IS her uniform, kinda, and come on, you think anyone’s gonna try and enforce dress code policy with her?”

“You make her sound too mean sometimes, bro.”

“She’s awesome! Really, I don’t think she’s mean enough, for someone who can just eat her problems away.”

-sigh- “Well anyway, at least you got something with him. It’s, he really just doesn’t have much patience for jokes, and I get with yours, as a comedian you make an excellent mortician, but-”

“Comedian AND mortician, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“-I mean, look, I get that some of this modern superhero stuff is not his speed but, come on, you really gonna tell me he didn’t crack one-liners back in his day? That he wasn’t pulling out zingers while punching Capone’s face in or whatever?”

“I think those guys had more serious catchphrases, like, “The milk of crime spoils fast! And the bill of evil doesn’t come cheap! So says Cannon Bill!” and then he just shoots everybody while they’re confused.”

“Ooooh wait, we haven’t gotten around to making bill-based puns with him! Yeah, guarantee he’s not gonna resist pulling one of those eventually.”

“You know how old people are, they like their jokes like farts in an elevator. You never see it coming and you can’t escape it once they do.”

“TMI, bro. But, yeah, I was getting to that, he knew my grandpa. Grandpa loved his one-liners, and so did a lot of those other Camelot dudes he hung out with. I just, you’d think a guy dressing up in circus colors would be a little less moody. I’m not criticizing him! Really, I’m not, I just, don’t like seeing people down.”

“See, this is why you get picked for team leader, because you take a look at all this and you think, “Well, I say! There’s not enough clownery in this circus! I’ll get the octagenarian to laugh at my fart jokes or die trying! Die trying is my middle name!”

-laugh- “Eat shit, bro”.

—-------*click*-------------------

DR. KIRIGAMI: However, it must be emphasized that, over the past couple of weeks, Cannon Bill has made progress, in regards to adapting to modern times, the demands of the job in regards to his duty as an Emancipator, and to his teammates. He has adapted to us, and we have adapted to him, as it should be in any collaborative effort.

He dislikes the suits, but he works with them, and we make some accommodations for his discomfort. He dislikes comm links, but together we devise other ways of communicating. He’s not used to informality and humor, but he’s adapted to it. From our sessions, it even seems to be having a positive effect on him. He’s having some difficulties still, and he still has never unmasked before me or his teammates. We all respect that, and so will you.

I bring this up as part of my plea. You gentlemen must remember that the Emancipators started, first and foremost, as an initiative to redeem and uplift. A group that took in heroes, and even villains willing to sincerely redeem themselves, and through careful education and training, we allowed them to make better lives for themselves. The Emancipators were never designed to be the next Pantheon of Aegis, the next Kamigata Dynasty, it was never a competition for ratings or money or whatever carrot you dangle before yourselves to do anything. V.A.P.O.R has spent the past decades trying to groom us into becoming the next Vanguard and, well, you must forgive me for once again expressing what a terminally idiotic idea that is. I simply have to, when said mindset was what led to the catastrophe before you. A catastrophe that was indeed averted, by the man you’re trying to get rid of.

Still, you did demand to know which member tagged along with him, when he marched up to Director Vijgen’s office, and no platoon of armed officers could stop him. I will be delighted to inform you, actually:

—-------HAYATO AND VULTURINE-------

“…Don’t tell me you’re thinking about going back there, dude.”

“I’m not! I’m not, it’s just. Look, I don’t wanna be like, I’m not running off on my own, and I know it’s not my grandpa in there. But…man, what if it’s someone’s grandpa still?”

“Like, whom?”

“I don’t know! But if all those grey things used to people, we should be going back for them. Even…even if we can’t save them, at least give them funerals. Let em die like people, y’know, and not whatever else they've been made into. They gotta have someone waiting for them back home, right?”

“…”

“…Sorry dude, my bad, didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine. It’s stupid, is what it is, but it’s fine. Look it’s, let's just let Dr Kiri and the suits sort out that mess. We gotta start prepping up Bill’s party.”

“Wait, what? Bill’s having a party?”

“Not any party, idiot, it’s Rosh Hashanah. We’re gonna do a Jewish New Year thing for him as a team. Kristi’s idea, really.”

(It was not Kristi’s idea, but Craine had a long-standing policy of never risking embarrassment by admitting to doing anything nice).

“Oh, cool! When?”

“…No idea, actually.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah I, uh, I don’t know when it is.”

“Can’t you just Google it?”

“I keep getting inconsistent dates, I don’t know if those’ve changed since his time, I don’t know when he celebrates it.”

“Can’t we just ask him?”

“Oh yeah, sure, let’s ask the guy when is his own surprise party happening!”

“But how are we-”

(We’re cutting off the tape by this point as the discussion no longer has anything to do with Cannon Bill’s case. It must be stressed, however, that a surprise Rosh Hashanah is a terrible idea, and that it isn't really a party the way Marco and Jeremy presumed, but, they'll figure it this out later with some help).

------------N-O-M-A-----------

"Gotta-try, gotta-try-for, for-the-both-of-us" Irresponsible-Data. Intrusive-Data. NOT-FOR-YOU-Data.

We-Trust-Doctor. We-Trust-Team. Do-Not-Trust-Others.

Many-Others-In-World. World-Hurt-Man. World-Hurt-Team.

ARE-YOU-WORLD?

WORLD-HURT-US

HURT

WORSE

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

Kristi’s Personal Diary

We, ended up talking about Petyr.

Everyone on the team knows it, I made it clear as day that I wouldn’t be working with someone who had a problem with it. I guess I just put off talking with him cause, y’know.

I was actually just gonna bring up this theory I had regarding his powers, see if he could confirm any of my notes on how his time desynch works (he might not like that name and, well it’s his power, but I do think it helps to explain, also it sounds cool) but, some work stuff got in the way and I forgot. Only remembered now I was, supposed to bring that up to him. He asked me why I picked my name, why Miss Ion, and then we just kinda, talked.

We ended up talking about things, memories, of sorts, outside of Dr Kirigami’s office. Things we left behind, things we missed, things we were glad to be away from. Scientific curiosity - no, no, stop, do we really gotta look for the worst intentions all the time even from ourselves? Don’t do that to yourself.

From what he tells me, he never married, never even really dated much. He stopped taking in clients a while before departing, left the pets in his care either with their owners or with people he could trust to look after them better. Said he only really missed his cat, but he trusted his niece to take better care of her than he did. He misses his family but, he didn't have much left before he went, and they must have made peace with him being dead, he says he doesn’t want to take that away from them, that he’ll drop by once he finishes the mission. And so he asked me if I had “folks” looking after me.

So, I told him about Petyr. I mean, there’s not much to talk about, I just, kinda explained to him why Petyr wasn’t a boyfriend, wasn’t a relative or whatever. I do love Petyr, Petyr was doing the best he could, but… I was Petyr but Petyr wasn’t me, I told him. And that’s the why I can’t really go back to my “folks” and, I made peace with that. I made peace with Petyr, others didn’t. My family would have preferred to make peace with my death than me living in a way they couldn’t claim. So, I refused to die. I had someone to live for, still.

He says he didn’t get it but, I think he got it. He made an effort, at least. He became very quiet when I told him I had someone to live for. I didn’t ask, but I think he wanted to tell me something important.

He took a deep breath, and he was reaching for his mask when Dr Kirigami called him for their next session.

—------------*click*--------------------

DR.KIRIGAMI: Well, it was me. You certainly did not think I'd sit by and let Vijgen's plan be forgotten, if not tried again, at the expense of my patients. You certainly seem to forget the things that this team is capable of. And I certainly don't think you've forgotten who I used to be, what I used to do, to protect my own.

Calm yourselves. This is not a threat. Anemia endulged in threats. Dr Kirigami merely makes stern warnings. At present, I do not know if any of you were a part of Huxley and Vijgen's plot, and if so, how many. So I lay this warning to all of you: I am not your enemy, and neither is my team. The upper management at V.A.P.O.R likes to think of the Emancipators as just another military branch of the organization. They underestimate how useful that delusion is to us, and so I let them. You, however, are not the upper management, you are the middle men, those who take the blame in situations like these. They would quietly destroy or execute all of you, if reports of Vijgen's role in the incoming crisis reached the public. Because Bill and I got to him in time, he's merely being transferred, more scared than hurt.

In his days prior to the costume and powers, you see, Bill made a habit of letting Pinkertons pick their own teeth off the sidewalk, and making sure everyone could see them do so, to make a point of it. Give them a chance to stop and do good, or see how worse it could get.

It is the chance Bill is giving you now. I would not have been so kind. You’d be surprised at how persuasive a man of so few words can be.

Consider this, when you play your part in deciding his fate.

—--------ACCESS CLOSED—-------------

A combination of his own effort, remarkable luck, and the efforts of his teammates made it so Cannon Bill wound up not being transferred or fired, for assaulting the once prestigious Director Vijgen. Kelvin Vijgen himself would wind up calling the board of directors, insisting that Cannon Bill be allowed to remain on the team, out of fear of consequences from the upper management at V.A.P.O.R if the situation escaped containment, a greater fear of incurring Bill and Kirigami’s wrath again as well as that of the NYU Emancipators, and perhaps, just a smidge of regret.

Cannon Bill had been consigned to a form of house arrest within the Emancipators headquarters and not allowed access to the internet or smartphones, a punishment vastly more effective to 21st century adults than to him. He sits in his room at present now, unmasked and with reading glasses, quietly reading the tutorials Miss Ion left him on how to paint nano-tech costumes. It’s a work-in-progress, but one he's getting the hang of. Unmasked, he looks rather unremarkable. A short, balding, square-jawed old man, packed with muscle. No abs to speak of, but with a strong gut, a weight lifter's gut. Sturdy hands capable of uprooting oak tree stumps held a paintbrush in most delicate fashion. He wanted to get this right. He had to get this right.

Cannon Bill had no idea when he would ever return to WN-34, whether he would be forced to fight hollow mockeries from his past again, and the thought of whether his teammates would survive said excursion eclipsed any fears towards his own survival. He had no idea his teammates were currently busy calling up other Jewish superheroes to learn the right way to throw him a celebration. He had no idea when would he reveal his true name to them, and he paid no mind to such affairs right now.

The seas of time parted open to give him a moment of solitude after so long, and he’d take any breather he could.

By his side, his wallet laid open atop the table he was using to work. Often, he liked to look at pictures of Brick, a big sturdy beast some would mistake for a housecat, to calm himself down, as it was impossible to take much of anything seriously looking at Brick. His niece must have loved her so much, God bless her. But he was looking at a different photo now. Very, very grainy in quality, not preserved quite right, but it was all he had still.

Of two men standing in front of a taxi car, arms around each other’s shoulders. One of these men was a short and stocky man in a suit, wearing a duckbill cap, and he had his eyes closed and a great big smile on his face. He had never been much good for smiling in photos, and so his father taught him this wonderful trick of yelling a dirty word you find funny just before the shot, a trick that did wonders for his insecurities about his missing teeth. His name…well, it remains his. A mystery man is entitled to some mystery, no?

The other man was taller, leaner, and his smile was more reserved, if no less warm. He was dressed in a strange strongman get-up, wearing a skintight yellow bodysuit with blue shorts, gloves and cowl. His name was William Ken Scott, and though his eyes were not visible behind the cowl, he didn’t care he had accidentally ruined the shot, too busy staring at his companion instead of the camera.

“You hang tight in there, partner. I got this far, right? …I’m not quitting on us.”

#my writing #tagging #dan schkade #since this started as a prompt to that idea #superheroes #cannon bill #fyi Bill is Sephardic Jewish #didn't find space to put that in but I thought it was important to clarify

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sunnyie-eve · 1 year ago

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18 || A Way In

Series: Trust | Maze Runner (Thomas x OFC)

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: none

A/N: Might be a few mistakes

| MASTERLIST |

"Someone got over their fear of walls." I try to joke walking next to Gally.

"Funny, Elizabeth." He gives me a look.

"So what happened?" I ask wanting to more about how he's been.

"After the maze, I got picked up by a group headed to the city. They realized I was immune, patched me up, and they brought me here to Lawrence. This group's been at war with Wicked ever since they took control of the city. But Wicked can't hide behind those walls forever. Day's gonna come, and they're gonna pay for what they've done. Listen, uh, he doesn't get a lot of visitors. So, let me do the talking. All right? And try not to stare." Gally explains to us as he leads us.

As we walk down some stairs we hear a man muttering before he sees Gally. "Gally, glad to see you made it back. Jasper told me what happened." He speaks clearly now.

"It was a slaughter. There's nothing we could do against those guns." Gally tells him.

"No, but they can only poke the hornet's nest so long before they get stung. Now, who are these people? Why are they here?" The man asks.

"We need to get into Wicked. Gally said you can get us through the walls." Thomas speaks up now.

"Gally should know better than to make promises that he can't keep. Besides, that wall is only half your problem. Getting inside Wicked is impossible." The man tells him and us.

"There might be a way now. But it doesn't work without Thomas." Gally lets the guy know.

"Is that so? Do you know what I am... Thomas? I am a businessman. Which means that I don't take unnecessary risks. Why should I trust you?" The guy comes into the light and we see he was turning.

"Cause I can help you. You see, if you can get me through those walls... I can get you what you need." Thomas tells the man.

"What is it that you think I need?" He asks.

"Time. Every last drop." I speak up looking at the bag of serum.

"Is that what I need, Elizabeth?" He asks and him saying my name confuses how he knew my name.

"WICKED has something we both want." I walk up to him standing next to Thomas.

"I'll tell you what. Two can go for now. The rest stay down here with me. Just a little insurance to make sure you find your way back. We have a deal?" He puts his hand out and I look at it.

"Three then we have a deal." I say making him eye me.

"Deal." We both shake hands with him. "Gally, show them the way."

Gally takes us to a sewer tunnel hole and get the latter for us to get down. "You okay?" Brenda places her hand in my shoulder looking at Gally.

"50/50." I tell her the truth.

"Gally, take care of these three." Fry tells him as he goes down first saying yeah. I go down second, Thomas, then Newt.

"This is gross." Newt says as we walk through the tunnel.

"Yeah, this is great." Thomas adds while Gally turns on the power.

"Stay with me. We got a ways to go." He says as we start to walk.

"Hey Gally. How did you end up with a bloody crank as your roommate?" Newt speaks up.

"Actually I owe that Crank my life. When Lawrence and his crew found me, could have sold me back to Wicked, trade in my life for a few bottles of serum. Instead he offered me a place. Said I had something worth living for." Gally tells us.

"What's that?" Thomas asks before Gally tells us to wait here for a minute. "Where the hell is he going?" Thomas slightly follows him. "Think we should trust him? After everything he's done?" Thomas turns to us.

"What other options do we have? I know this may be hard for you to believe Thomas but there was a time when Gally was a true friend of ours. More to Ellie at one point remember." Newt tells him before Gally comes back.

"Hey. It's clearly. Let's move."

"All right. This way." Gally's says and they crawl through another hole. "Hold on." He tells them to wait before a train comes past them. "Okay, we gotta be quick about this. Not gonna have a lot of time. Stay on me okay?" Gally shouts and the other three look at each other. "Okay, let's go!" They all jump out.

"All right Tommy loves trains, don't you mate." Newt says as Gally runs.

"Great, you'll see another one real soon. Come on." He tells them running so Elizabeth automatically start running behind him with the two following.

"Gally what the hell are we doing?!" Thomas shouts.

"Less talking more running!" Gally yells at him.

As they keep running they see another train coming towards them. "Gally!" Elizabeth yell his name running faster.

"Come on!" Gally looks back at them. "We're almost there!" He yells.

"We gotta move. Come on!" Thomas tells Newt as Elizabeth passes Gally.

"Go, go, go." Gally pushes her while she climbs up the latter.

"NEWT!" Se yells seeing he feel. Thomas goes to run back to him but Gally shoves him back going to help Newt.

"Newt!" Thomas yells as the train gets closer.

"Thomas the wall!" Elizabeth shouts at him just in time. "GALLY! NEWT!" She screams as the train passes and couldn't see what happened to them.

Elizabeth pulls her knees into her ches squeezing her eyes shut crying thinking the worst happened to them. Once the train past Elizabeth kept crying until she hear groaning.

"That was a first." Gally says making Elizabeth climb down running over to them. "We never were really good runners where me Newt." Gally puts his hand out.

"I only got one good leg." Newt says as he gets pulled up.

"Yeah, I only got one good lung." Gally adds as Elizabeth wraps her arms around Newt.

As Thomas asks if Newts okay, Elizabeth wraps her arms around Gally making him hug her too. "We're okay. You can stop crying now." He rubs her back.

Thomas watches them causing Gally to look at him, "Lets go." Gally let's go of Elizabeth and they get a move on.

Once they get into the main part with people from the city they try to blind in with the crowd. "All you gotta do is sneeze around here to get kicked out. That's the price of paradise I guess." Gally tells the three as they pass people getting their temperature checked.

As we get out to the surface we see the whole city up close and no one around. "This is a long way from the Glade." Newt says looking at the buildings.

"Fifteen minutes to mandatory curfew. Please proceed home in an orderly fashion. Remember, this is for your safety. Thank you for your compliance." The announcer says on the PA.

"Yeah, we better get off these streets. And I know it's hard, but act like you've seen it before." Gally tells them as sirens blare when they get on the streets.

"They've definitely upped security. I'm guessing you shanks have something to do with that." Gally says as they lean up against a building to hide for patrolling cars.

"All right, let's get outta here." Gally jogs off and they follow. "All right, Newt, you're up." Gally helps Newt up the wall. "I got it." Thomas gets up by himself. "Bess." Gally says then helps her up and Thomas pulls her up too.

"There it is. If Wicked's got Minho, that's where they'll be keeping him. Lawrence has been trying to find a way in for years. Place is crawling with soldiers. They got surveillance everywhere. Scanners on every floor." Gally tells them as he gets a telescope out.

"Sounds like a bloody fortress." Newt adds.

"Can't blame them with what they are doing in there." Elizabeth crosses her arms.

"Yeah, I thought you said you had a way in." Thomas tells Gally.

"I might." Gally looks at him.

"You might? What the hell do you mean might?" Thomas gets worked up. "We're following your lead here. We're trusting you. We don't have to do that." Thomas says.

"Yeah. Let's get a few things straight first. Or there's no point in going farther. Look I know what I did, okay. I may not remember but I know. I see Chuck's face every time I close my eyes. Listen we don't have to be friends, and I'm not asking for anyone's forgiveness. I'm asking we put it behind us cause we all want the same thing. And after this we go our separate ways till then none of this works till we trust each other." Gally tells him before fixing the telescope.

"Take a look." Gally steps aside so Thomas can look. "I said I had a way in. I didn't say you were gonna like it." Gally says as Thomas looks back at him.

"Teresa, is the way in. The one that helped get Minho and me taken in the first place? Helped basically get my mother killed. And is the reason why Minho and me couldn't be near each other so when Thomas tried saving us... they only got me and he's here." Elizabeth laughs getting worked up making Newt try to calm her down.

"Ellie, you can't get to loud." He places his hand on her lower back rubbing it.

"Wanna know who's fault it really is?" She asks looking over at Thomas and he tilts his head confused.

"How is it my fault? Tell me." He walks us to her crossing his arms.

"You never payed attention to how she reacted to certain topics. When you're gonna lead a group you need to keep tabs on everyone. Did she tell you she remembered everything? Why y'all were with them?" Elizabeth asks him.

"Yes. She said we should've gone back to them." He looks away from me.

"If she wasn't with us when we got to the Right Arm... Minho would be here and my mom would still be alive. And we'd all be at the safe haven." Elizabeth leaves them heading back the way we came and they follow her.

#maze runner #the maze runner #tmr thomas #thomas maze runner #tmr newt #newt maze runner #tmr minho #minho maze runner #tmr teresa #teresa maze runner #tmr fanfic #the maze runner fanfic #dylan o'brien #thomas brodie-sangster #ki hong lee #kaya scoledario #will poulter #gally maze runner #tmr gally

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apocalypticavolition · 1 year ago

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Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 11: Glimmers of the Pattern

Spoilers ahead! Spoilers for the whole of The Wheel of Time ahead! Nothing but spoilers! Don't look!

This chapter has yet another Wheel icon. There sure are a lot of these of late. It's probably connected to Rand's continually being pulled towards being the Dragon and Fain's certainty of their upcoming conflict on the other end of the known world.

“All I’m bloody saying,” he heard Uno tell Ragan as they dismounted, “is that I bloody saw her, burn you. Just before we found the goat-kissing Halfman. The same flaming woman as at the flaming ferry. She was there, and then she bloody wasn’t. You say what you bloody want to, but you watch how you flaming say it, or I’ll bloody skin you myself, and burn the goat-kissing hide, you sheep-gutted milk-drinker.”

Lanfear was probably hoping that her Lews was leading the expedition properly and that she could dramatically whisk him away. Then she saw the Fade and was like, "Okay this is off-script, I'm out" because that scene's gotta be disturbing even to the Forsaken. Especially them really.

He wished Moiraine was there to talk to.

I've been giving Moiraine a bit of shit so far this early book, so let's highlight how despite her gross mishandling of Rand since the end of book 1, he still instinctively trusts her a good deal.

“The Trollocs took them for food. They do it in villages and farms near the Blight, too, sometimes, if a raid gets past the border towers in the night. Sometimes we get the people back, and sometimes not. Sometimes we get them back and almost wish we hadn’t. Trollocs don’t always kill before they start butchering. And Halfmen like to have their . . . fun. That’s worse than what the Trollocs do.”

It's a shame we won't be keeping the Halfmen's fun as an entirely distant and offscreen endeavor. What does end up paying off this foreshadowing is just so... Ick.

“I was told to tell you at the same time that if anything happens to me, the lances will follow you.”

And here's Rand's first taste of responsibility. It's a small one, a theoretical "you're basically second-in-command if something shitty happens," but it's still something.

“All the lances. When we Shienarans ride, every man knows who is next in line if the man in command falls. A chain unbroken right down to the last man left, even if he’s nothing but a horseholder. That way, you see, even if he is the last man, he is not just a straggler running and trying to stay alive. He has the command, and duty calls him to do what must be done. If I go to the last embrace of the mother, the duty is yours. You will find the Horn, and you will take it where it belongs. You will.” There was a peculiar emphasis in Ingtar’s last words.

I again wonder how many of the party think that Ingtar's lead is a convenient fiction and that at any moment he and Rand will swap places.

I also wonder where Mat, Perrin, and Loial fit into the chain of command and if anyone's bothered to tell them. Are they towards the end?

Ingtar's really obsessing about his salvation, isn't he?

She wouldn’t have. She couldn’t. A small voice answered, Oh, yes, she could. She could and would. Finally he set about untying the small knots in the cords that bound it. Neat knots, tied with a precision that spoke loudly of Moiraine’s own hand; no servant had done this for her. She would not have dared let any servant see.

This is the kind of dysfunctional relationship between the two that I love to see, because at least Moiraine's taking an active hand in the situation.

Anger boiled up in Rand, anger at Moiraine and the Amyrlin Seat, pushing him, pulling him. He snatched up the banner in both hands and shook it at Mat, words boiling out uncontrollably. “That’s right! The Dragon’s banner!” Mat took another step back. “Moiraine wants me to be a puppet on Tar Valon strings, a false Dragon for the Aes Sedai. She’s going to push it down my throat whatever I want. But—I—will—not—be—used!”

It's sweet that Rand's not mad at Mat for being dickish right now - and it's very telling that Mat's response is a very hesitant, "That's crazy," as if he's kind of known what's going on the whole time and is only now being forced to confront it. Perrin is definitely only just now connecting the dots though.

“Doesn’t change you being able to channel,” Mat muttered. “If I were you, I’d be halfway to the Aryth Ocean by now. And I would not stop until I found someplace where there were no Aes Sedai, and never likely to be any. And no people. I mean . . . well. . . .”

Mat, this is just what you'd be doing if you weren't bound to a missing magical artifact. An actual channeler version of Mat would probably pull an Aiel and run into the Blight. Also for all his jackassery in this sequence, note that Perrin agrees with him, just not how he's saying it.

“You came because of the dagger?” Mat said quietly. He rubbed his nose and grimaced. “I never thought of that. I never thought you wanted to. . . . Aaaah! Are you feeling all right? I mean, you aren’t going mad already, are you?”

Apparently Mat also thought that the whole point of the excursion was for Rand to take charge of the expedition, since I can't imagine a single other motivation he'd consider if not "get the dagger".

“No offense, Rand, but I think I will just sleep as far away from you as I can, if you don’t mind. That’s if you are staying. I heard about a fellow who could channel, once. A merchant’s guard told me. Before the Red Ajah found him, he woke one morning, and his whole village was smashed flat. All the houses, all the people, everything but the bed he was sleeping in, like a mountain had rolled over them.” Perrin said, “In that case, Mat, you should sleep cheek by jowl with him.”

It's very interesting that Mat says "if you don't mind" as if he's saying that if Rand kicks up a very big fuss he will totally stay by his friend. And of course this is some delightful Perrin snark. These boys really needed more scenes together.

“Time to get back to the camp. You think on what I said, Rand. I’d run. But maybe you can’t run. Think of that, too.” His yellow eyes seemed to look inward, and he sounded tired. “Sometimes you can’t run.”

Wow Perrin, I spent so much of last book giving you shit and now you're actually living up to what you're supposed to be. I like it. Please don't leave me in six boo- Oh right.

Kinda feel like maybe Mat and Perrin's respective flavors of ta'veren are each pulling on Rand here and roughly canceling each other out. With just Mat's influence, Rand would be gone by sunrise (well, he will be anyway, but you know what I mean). With Perrin's, Rand would probably decide enough's enough and declare himself Dragon right now.

“There you are, Rand,” Loial said. “You know, I think this stone was worked once. See, it’s weathered, but it looks as if it was a column of some kind. And there are markings, also. I can’t quite make them out, but they look familiar, somehow.”

It's probably nothing Loial.

(Also seriously if I were Rand at this point I'd be so paranoid of this I'd go sleep somewhere else altogether.)

An exhausted sleep finally came, and with sleep, unbidden, the void surrounded him, flickering with an uneasy glow that disturbed his dreams.

If only Mat hadn't let him know that inadvertent sleep channeling was possible.

Fain drew a deep breath and fingered the ruby-hilted dagger at his belt. That had come from Shadar Logoth, too. It was the only weapon he carried, the only one he needed; it felt like a part of him. He was whole within himself, now. That was all that mattered.

It's really interesting that Fain feels so attached to the one part of Shadar Logoth he couldn't have had anything to do with. I wouldn't assume that the dagger was anything particularly special by Aridhol's standards, so would Fain also feel complete if he'd taken his own souvenir? Is the dagger special? Or would having two loose artifacts of doom mean Fain would need both on hand to feel good? Discuss!

It had been a struggle at first, waking each morning to find himself not completely whole, to find the Myrddraal back in command, raging and demanding they go north, to the Blight, to Shayol Ghul. But bit by bit those mornings of weakness grew shorter, until. . . . He remembered the feel of the hammer in his hand, driving the spikes in, and he smiled; this time it did touch his eyes, with the joy of sweet memory.

This explains both what killed the Fade (which thankfully isn't a new horror but just our old enemy) and also why the group kept zigzagging the way that they did.

“The others were only commoners,” one woman managed in an unsteady voice. Dirt streaked her face above a finely cut dress that marked her as a merchant, and wealthy. Smears stained the good gray cloth, and a long tear marred her skirt. “They were peasants. We have served—I have served—”

Not a single Darkfriend Jordan focuses on meets a pleasant ending. These nobility thought they were special, but really they're in far worse conditions than the commoner Darkfriends who at least got earlier tickets out of this hellhole.

He had to have a Trolloc carry it—he did not trust the humans enough to load it on a horse and packsaddle; some dreams of power might be strong enough to overcome even fear of him, but Trollocs never dreamed of anything except killing—and he had not yet puzzled out how to open it.

I'm like 99% certain that if the human Darkfriends had gotten the Horn and blown it against Fain they absolutely would have gotten help from the Heroes, just saying.

“This time you come to me, Rand al’Thor. Before, I followed you like a dog driven on the trail, but now you follow me.” His laughter was a cackle that even he knew was mad, but he did not care. Madness was a part of him, too. “Come to me, al’Thor. The dance is not even begun yet. We’ll dance on Toman Head, and I’ll be free of you. I’ll see you dead at last.”

I deeply appreciate how Fain is going to be completely blindsided by Rand showing up way ahead of schedule. Bastard thinks he's slick but he's really the unluckiest joke on the planet.

Thankfully we won't be seeing him again any time soon. Next time: Egwene and Nynaeve deal with the Aes Sedai!

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #robert jordan #wot spoilers #wheel of time spoilers #rand al'thor #ingtar shinowa #uno nomesta #ragan #mat cauthon #perrin aybara #loial #hurin #padan fain

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callgespenst · 2 years ago

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Best of 2022 Media Post

I read/watched a whole lot last year! Here’s the summary of what I enjoyed the most.

Sing a Bit of Harmony: The best new anime movie I saw last year. Usually I try and watch everything I can subbed, but I caught the dub showing for this and it was really well done. Very lived-in and real-feeling near future setting, some wonderful stuff about AI, and just a really good coming of age story. A year later it’s apparently finally getting a US BD release so I’m excited to finally watch it subbed.

Dress-Up Darling: Found this show oddly relatable (or at least, the parts about making the costumes). Wholesome in a roundabout way, and has a very true to life portrayal of how horny teenagers can be, without being weird or gross about it.

Everything Everywhere All At Once: I haven’t been hooked by a trailer for a movie like that in a very long while. Just seeing the preview I knew I was in for a great time, and it delivered. A lot of other people’s favorite movie of 2022 as well, but it’s just that good.

Creamy Mami: One of the earliest magical girl shows, and yet, goes in directions completely untouched by any of its successors. Excellent funny little mascot characters, bopping tunes, and some of the funniest episodes of anything I’ve ever seen. An absolute must watch. Still have some OVAs to go through at some point.

Thrilling Bloody Sword: the summary said “a martial arts movie based on Snow White” and while that’s technically true, it’s so, so much more from that. When the opening credits played and the movie’s main theme turned out to -literally- just be a stolen reindition of the Space Battleship Yamato opening, I knew I was in for a good time. Bonkers battles, a completely unpredictable plot, and special effects that weren’t even good at the time combine into a flawless package. Also, the male main antagonist is weirdly hot and also an incredible actor. When the special effects are that bad, you gotta really give it your all to sell them.

Glass Onion: Another popular pick, but it’s damn good. Needs every second of its two and a half hour runtime. Has a great core message, a superb female lead, and the best use of celebrity cameos in any media I’ve seen in a good long while. Hope there’s many more Benoit Blanc mysteries to come.

Spy X Family: The first anime adaptation in a hot minute that got me to read the source material. A perfect mix of comedy, action, and good old fashioned spy thrills. My only complaint is that there’s not nearly enough Yor getting to do what she does best, but I think the next part of the manga I have to read will fix that.

Dragon Ball Super Hero: Went to go see this twice! Wasn’t sure how the 3DCG would go over, but it was really well done. Got me to finally re-read Dragon Ball all the way through like I’ve wanted to for ages, so that was good too. The action’s great, but it’s really the good ol’ Toriyama humor in full force.

Symphony of the Night: Not sure what I can say about one of the most acclaimed video games of all time, but it was a lot of fun! I could feel myself getting better as I went along, especially when I got into the Reverse Castle. Had to start using my entire toolkit to get by. Think I’ll definitely play another Castlevania game for Halloween this year.

Flying Phantom Ship: Like Creamy Mami, a massive inspiration for a lot of series that have come since, and yet, I saw almost nothing that happened in this movie coming. Only an hour, but with at least three hours worth of twists and turns. Nothing I say about this film can really do it justice.

Phantom of the Paradise: Tremendously well put together movie. Great music by the legendary Paul Williams with a story you probably already know, but put together in a captivating and engrossing way. Knows it’s a story and who the main characters are, and has them interact in ways that really show off all their strengths and flaws. That said, my favorite character might actually be the man only known as Beef, I think about him a lot.

That’s everything for 2022! I have no particular goals on the media front for 2023, but I’m excited to see what it brings.

#gespenst media

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guyfieriii · 2 years ago

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Johnny’s pelvis remains glued to the back of your thighs, conjoined at that sweltering centre, gently swelling back to rock-hard shape. It works to plug you full of him, a barrier to the cum he’d spilt a mere thirty minutes prior. This took my breath away. And replaced it with a scream so feral it remains unbeknownst to what it really is.

But he exercises a surprising restraint. No. Unexpected. A fortitude obviously cultivated in the SAS, carbon under pressure, polished and primed. One that is diamond-sharp, deadly even, but usually crumbles to dust around you. Exactly this!! Love the army man with nerves of steel losing his shit.

“Wad ye rather I get the shadin’ on yer tits wrong?”“Ye'll end up lookin like ma great aunt.” “That’s gross.” “Watch it. Rory was a great woman.” First thought : Christ this man is precious. God, I love the banter. Second thought : All this while his dick’s still in her? Nice!

You’ve tried to be gentle with him. Really, you have. You just found he doesn’t prefer it. YES YES YES! Manhandle him and be manhandled right back.

He’s talking. Something about football and fake turf scrapes. God. That voice. Full-bodied, confident with all the charisma to match. You latch on to every syllable, basking in the way they furl from him – rolled r’s, two element vowels morphing to one. What’s the word for gorgeous in Scottish jargon? He’d taught you it over a bowl of strawberries. This is exactly right. Soap would just be there talking. About his interests, hopes dreams. About regular mundane shit.And all you can do is work to not drop your panties. Because THAT VOICE.

It’s not the weather, though. It’s him. He inspires a cyclone in you, a vortex of violently rotating winds that upturn every function. Hot. Cold. A puddle of melted something, stirring deep within the recesses of your gut. Your attempts to smother it down will forever be in vain. This is so beautifully written. The intensity is so bloody palpable!

“We’ll be here for a while.” “And there are only so many things to talk about.”“Gotta save some for next time.” “Aye.” “Next time?”“Hmm, if you like me enough.”“I like ya, bonnie. Only question is–” “Do ye like me?” THE FLIRTING. THIS IS SO HOT.

“Do it dry. I like when it hurts a little.”When I tell you, my heart stopped. What a way to die.

“Aye. Took ower long ta get those gorgeous tits down, you’ve lost that sex sheen.” YOU’VE LOST THAT SEX SHINE. PLS I CACKLED.

This is what the poets eulogise, this ‘swete breeth’ reverence. Zephyrus – he’s zephyr adjacent – the god of westerly wind. I simply lack the words to do this justice. I don’t know what to say. I read this and my breath was caught in my throat. It’s amazing.

“It’s nice, baby! You might’ve made me too pretty, though.” A growl. “Shut it. That’s all you.”

What a way to end it. Perfection from start to finish!!! THANK YOU FOR THIS, YOU ABSOLUTE ANGEL.

charcoal

pairing: John 'Soap' MacTavish x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ mdni) word count: 2.6k summary: you and johnny draw portraits of one another warnings: cock warming, unprotected p-in-v, creampies, handjobs, tooth rotting fluff, nude drawings, light masochism, mentions of death notes: inspired by soap's journal in mw3. our sweet boy can draw :)

“Sit still.”

A whisper, spoken like a fervent kiss to the space between you. Humid air, smothered under his peppercorn cologne and the tangy warmth of lingering sex. Johnny’s pelvis remains glued to the back of your thighs, conjoined at that sweltering centre, gently swelling back to rock-hard shape. It works to plug you full of him, a barrier to the cum he’d spilt a mere thirty minutes prior.

Mere. To you, long hours have gone by while stuck in this state, oscillating from painful overstimulation to an insatiable urge that only exists with him – more, more – and back again. But he exercises a surprising restraint. No. Unexpected. A fortitude obviously cultivated in the SAS, carbon under pressure, polished and primed. One that is diamond-sharp, deadly even, but usually crumbles to dust around you.

He keeps your leg hooked over one broad shoulder. The other quivers, cushioned by the duvet, serving as a surface for the item he’d fetched in a rush.

Fuck. Hold it righ’ there. Freshly spent, glowing with an endorphin-logged high.

Huh– W-What’re you doing?

Y'look so bloody beautiful like this, hen. Have ta memorialise it.

Ever the flatterer. You’ve no doubt you’re a mess – mussed hair, smudged mascara. The only thing he’d left in his stripping you was the necklace you’d worn for his welcome home; a golden chain, charmed with a replica of his dog tag and an antique locket you’d salvaged from your grandmother’s place.

You thought he’d been reaching for a polaroid; a quick snapshot of the moment, print to be stapled to the inside of his combat coat. But he’d ducked under your bed – not the nightstand where you kept the camera – and ruffled through dust bunnies and expired condoms for the stash of things he deems too important to take with him to the job. Material objects, little keepsakes, left to rot behind, with you.

He’d come back up with a self-satisfied grin, a journal – moleskine bound and half-full of rough scribbles – clasped between waving fingers.

It’s not the first time he draws you. Just the first time he does of such an intimate scene.

Clenching involuntarily, you flush at the thought. Johnny’s free hand tenses from its place on your knee, soothing circles turned bruising touch. Giggling, you squeeze him again, only to be met with a particularly vicious thrust of his hips.

“Nng-! Christ,”

“What'd I tell ya?”

“I had been.” The protest peaks at the back of your throat, forming something more akin to a whine. His chuckle is indicative of the fact; sunlit bough and soft moss gaze catching yours. His eyes pool like honey in the lowlight, gold drawn out by the haze of your surroundings. Warm. “You’re taking too long.”

“Wad ye rather I get the shadin’ on yer tits wrong?” He teases, gaelic-curled accent accompanied by sharp scratches of charcoal on paper. The black dust coats calloused fingertips, concentrated on the middle, the one he uses for smudging. “Ye'll end up lookin like ma great aunt.”

“That’s gross.”

“Watch it. Rory was a great woman.”

But his chest widens in that special way, skin rippling over thickset sinew, and you know his current contentment runs bone deep. He gloats it, wearing the radiance like he does the sweat; the tender marks along his neck, imprints of your teeth cut in blood. His battle scars pale in contrast, silver and thin and nothing when set beside the raised scratches, red, carved mid-fuck.

You’ve tried to be gentle with him. Really, you have.

You just found he doesn’t prefer it.

A Noah’s-Ark cataclysm of rain, unending cataracts of water sluicing from the sky. They wash over the windshield, the windows – you can barely see beyond the hood of his car.

It was your suggestion to wait the storm out. You’d gone on a picnic for your first date, perched up high on some mountain that now seems too formidable to scale down.

Spice with rosy overtones. His scent is intoxicating, distilled on that spot – the edge of a broad tendon that stretches up his neck. Johnny’s clad in a polo shirt, the collar slightly popped to cover the patch of skin, but you catch sight of it every once in a while. Enough to fuel your internal screams, urging you to act against what is proper.

Hold out ‘till the next time you see him. Leave him wanting more.

He’s talking. Something about football and fake turf scrapes.

God. That voice. Full-bodied, confident with all the charisma to match. You latch on to every syllable, basking in the way they furl from him – rolled r’s, two element vowels morphing to one. What’s the word for gorgeous in Scottish jargon? He’d taught you it over a bowl of strawberries.

Broad. Brock. Brow. Br… something.

But his thumb had swiped out to the edge of your lip to catch a bead of stray juice, and you’d lost all wit. In one ear, out the other. Boiled down to a saccharine, lust-filled puree.

You’d wanted to take the digit into your mouth.

The high altitude ensures the car is frigid, windows chilled with a freezing pellet downpour. The skirt you wore does nothing to hide the goosebumps that prickle down your thighs.

Him. Him.

He drives you mad. You’re fucking stupid.

But pellucid blue light streams in from outside, the sun sinking behind gunmetal clouds, and Johnny fills his jeans nicely, you think. Hulking thighs force the denim to its limits, stretched and spread and–

Oh.

Maybe your mind had skipped over it purposely. For knowledge of what it would do to you. In knowing that your panties are already slick, unable to hold the extra saturation. You’ll leak onto his seat.

Fuck.

A prominent, massive bulge. Strained, outwardly painful.

Enticing.

You flood, anyway. Overbearing heat and oblivion striking your core. A breath catches, spinning to form a small bubble of recklessness between constricting lungs.

You speak before you begin to process it all.

“We’ll be here for a while.”

Stupid, silly girl.

He halts, tangent lost to the half-lidded look you give him. Your nails graze the arm nearest to you, propped on the console, brushing through hair to elicit a deep shudder – mirror to your salacity. It tells him what he can already guess.

In the split second it takes for your impulse to waver, he recovers, back to that ludic man you’d met just last week.

“And there are only so many things to talk about.” Johnny nods.

Your heart slams on hollow ribs. He may hear it if he tries hard enough; an echoed melody of cosmic yearning.

“Gotta save some for next time.”

“Aye.” His head ducks closer to yours, locking you to those bonfire eyes. “Next time?”

“Hmm, if you like me enough.” The suggestion skips across your nervous titter. Spearmint washes over you when he speaks, cold breath a product of the pack of gum he keeps tucked in his car door. He’d told you he reserves the stash for special occasions, with only the ‘prettiest of hens.’ You’d folded the wrapper into a heart and placed it against the stick shift.

“I like ya, bonnie. Only question is–” A bent forefinger taps your chin, thumb caressing the curve of it. “Do ye like me?”

You let your stare flutter down to his lips; perfect, pink, pulled in a devious smirk. It wipes any semblance of logic from you. Propriety, the manners your mother taught you at a holiday dinner table – cross your legs, elbows off the table – dissipate to ash. You’re raw; skinned alive and vulnerable to whatever he wants.

Crackling nerves. You don’t answer, don’t say a word.

Instead, you lean in to kiss the scar on his lip.

And it all goes to hell from there.

Hurried gropes, desperation fogging. You bend over the centre – precariously balanced on your knees – to hug his head closer to yours. His hands find purchase on your waist, exposed now, your sweater rucked upwards to hang just below your bra. You can see his back in the reflection of the window, his muscles rolling under a too-tight shirt, expanding to accommodate the weight you throw onto him.

It’s hormone fuelled, messy. Your teeth clack and your tongues wrestle and you can only ponder on releasing him, on untucking his hard length from hindering pants.

“H-Here–” You stutter into his mouth, left hand smoothing down his chest to dance teasingly at the waistband. His hips buck the slightest bit. “Let me…”

“Wanna make ye feel good too, lass.”

“Please.”

And it must be the way you say it, the keen in your tone, the pout of your lips. You’re close to tears, eyes glossy like the wet road ahead. It must be; mutual magnetism, some shared fondness that makes him concede to your plea (I like ye, bonnie), before he helps you pull them down to let his cock spring free. Head flush and base thick enough to split your lips.

You swim impossibly deeper into the pool of crush-drunk abandon.

Braw. That was it. Braw, for mind-numbing attractiveness. Or so to say–

Maybe you’re exaggerating. It doesn’t feel like a grand enough word to encapsulate this. To capture him.

Nothing could be enough. Your first date and yet you sit here, obsessed already, willing to spend a lifetime showing him all you can’t say. How those eyes draw from you a lightness, an ease. Hazel has quickly become your favourite colour. How mohawks are an abomination to conscientious style, but how he makes them work, much to your displeasure. You imagine plugging clippers in a shared bathroom, helping him buzz off the sides prior to longer missions. Sending him off with a kiss that means more than just interest.

“Fuck.”

“Feart, now?”

His accent thickens in the throes of pleasure. You add the word to your growing list and spit on your hand to help slick him up.

He stops you before you can wrap it around his leaking cock. “Wait, wait.”

Head still buried into the crook of his neck, a trail of purpling bruises adorning the stubbled skin of his jaw – you can only spot him in your peripheral, a hazy blur of long eyelashes and a prominent nose.

His hands unclip your bra when he speaks again:

“Do it dry. I like when it hurts a little.”

A year later now. He’d wrapped an assignment early to see you on your anniversary.

“Done?”

You’re sticky with cooling sweat and spit, fluids hardening on supple flesh in the filtered air of your bedroom. Both naked, posed in the same position; your right glute burns with the ache of a prolonged stretch, still thrown over his shoulder as he hurriedly finishes the final details of his sketch.

“Almost. Canae fuckin’ get the lightin’ right.”

“Lemme see,” You make a grab for the journal. He bats your hand away.

“No.” Johnny huffs, shifting to look at you from a slightly different angle. “I think it’s the glow.”

“The glow?”

“Aye. Took ower long ta get those gorgeous tits down, you’ve lost that sex sheen.”

“You’re mad.”

The hand that was at your knee starts to knead your thigh, grabbing whatever it can hold. An intentional touch, he targets every tender area, sparking a match to an already smouldering flame. The pressure at your core tightens.

“I’d say it’s a quick fix,”

Your hips buck to meet the heavy weight of his palm as it flattens against your pelvis, seeking true fusion to the rough skin. You’re feverish, practically singing him; you spread your legs and do what you can to spear yourself further onto his cock, one that has not yet left the tight clutch of your cunt.

This is what the poets eulogise, this ‘swete breeth’ reverence. Zephyrus – he’s zephyr adjacent – the god of westerly wind. But he places you on a shrine like he’s not the being made of sun; touches you with a prayer imbued into his callouses – barnacled reminders of his life as Soap. Your Johnny, as he is with you, finds you speechless and continues giving – pouring water onto wet clay, bending you as he pinpoints an electric centre, that bundle of nerves that has you seeing star-speckled pantheons.

He continues to work your clit even as you kick his back, heel thrashing onto freckled skin. The overstimulation is not creeping, it does not wait until you’ve come undone – no. You’ve been on this tightrope for far too long now, and your legs tremble with the sheer exhaustion of it all. It’s never clear with him, whether the end is in sight. There are often moments of recovery where you pull away, only for him to flip you over and stuff you full again.

The lewd squelch of your cunt, your wailing moans; you hardly register them as he begins pistoning into you, both hands and dick devoted to completing the picture. All that exists is sacred, divine insensibility. Pleasure in its purest form, locked in this haven where you’re safe to imagine holding onto him forever.

“J-Johnny… Johnny, God– I’m gonna–”

He gains speed, fucking your sopping heat with a brutal pace, unrelenting as he circles your abused clit. You don’t have it in you to even move, boneless and wholly open to his ministrations.

“Tha's exactly what we want now, bonnie. Go on, cum for me.”

The muscles in your core harden, too brittle to stand against the wicked tide brimming within you. It drives you delirious, flooding your instincts. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your back arches – you absolutely ruin the continuity that comes with being his live model. But you don’t care. You don’t care. He’s so good at hitting you in all the right places – head nudging your cervix, his breadth stretching you out with a fiery sting. He rubs you raw, chafing, and you’re so close.

You think about jerking him off on your first date, coaxing from him groans that taste like scotch and spearmint-covered strawberries. The sorest handjob known to mankind – he’d cum hard, spurting thick globs of warm fluid onto his lap, webbing your fingers together with his essence. His apologies had fallen on deaf ears when you’d licked yourself clean.

You think about meeting him at that bar, nursing a fruity drink with a wild name. Your friend had abandoned you for some blonde chick, but Johnny took your lonesome as an opportunity to swoop in and compliment your dress. He’d later told you that he’d only been looking for a quick fix to stall on the grief of a close friend's death. Turns out, ye're not so much a stall, more a remedy, love. Sad tae say I'm glad yer friend was horny that night.

You think of him, now. Of the past twenty-something pages of his journal filled with nothing but idle doodles of you and gum-wrapper hearts, no longer dedicated to anguished attempts at remembering lost comrades. He’s grown to be a better artist, lines bold and drawn in sole strokes, able to capture just about anything in ballpoint pen alone.

Well I’ve got the perfect muse now, haven’ I?

You break, shattering into a million fragments. You know he’ll pick you up.

Finally resting, spooned together under clean sheets. A strong arm thrown over you, holding open a page for your scrutiny.

“It’s nice, baby! You might’ve made me too pretty, though.”

A growl. “Shut it. That’s all you.”

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rememberthelaughtermp3 · 1 year ago

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Hi taylor @theusedselftitled logging in for the used listening propaganda. My absolute favorite forever is the canyon but that's actually an awful place to start listening so here are your choices:

Their self titled album is definitely their second best after the canyon and I recommend it if you want some classic 2000s post-hardcore. Great screams 10/10. It's kind of a magical album because it's just so perfect. (Song recs: maybe memories, a box full of sharp objects, blue and yellow, the entire album tbh)

In love and death is good if you want to hear them get a little more silly with it. The same 2000s post-hardcore but the melodic poppy moments are even catchier and the heavy moments are even heavier. (Song recs: I caught fire, all that I've got, sound effects and overdramatics)

Lies for the liars has a weird vibe. I could say a lot about that but I won't for the sake of your inbox. Less screamy and heavy, they started embracing the I caught fire side of their songwriting over the sound effects and overdramatics side. Great beginner album if you're looking for something easy and memorable. (Song recs: the bird and the worm, hospital, paralyzed)

Shallow believer is a b-side comp album and I wouldn't recommend it as a starting place but it has some bangers. Not a lot to say since it's not a proper full album but it's special to me so I wanted to mention it. (Song recs: slit your own throat, choke me, the back of your mouth)

Artwork is described as "gross pop" by the band. It's not actually pop but I think that's a great description. Generally a fucked up vibe in the best way. You might be able to guess that they continue with the more pop rock side of their songwriting. I can't describe this album well other than that it's compelling. (Song recs: blood on my hands(!!), kissing you goodbye, come undone, men are all the same)

Don't listen to vulnerable as a starting album. sorry vulnerable but it's not that good </3

Imaginary enemy is their "political album" and I wouldn't recommend it to start but I do have a few song recs to listen to on their own (revolution, a song to stifle imperial progression(!!!!!!), imaginary enemy)

Don't listen to the canyon to start you gotta ease into it

Heartwork is fantastic if you want to hear them get more experimental with their sound. I'd recommend Not listening to the deluxe version at first because even though I really like some of the bonus tracks it fucks with the original flow of the album just adding them on at the end. (Song recs: paradise lost, bloody nose, cathedral bell, actually just every damn song except for the aptly titled "Wow, I Hate This Song." Bonus track recs: blood meridian, playing the victim, operation me)

We arrive at toxic positivity and find the used in their natural habitat of catchy vocals with some great riffs. Bert lives in a society and needs everyone to know. My take is that I love it because it's fun to listen to but the lyrics suck ass 😭 this guy said "copium" in the very first song. Definitely listen a few times even if you think you don't like it because it grows on you. It's a short album so listening a couple times won't take forever. (Song recs: the worst I've ever been, numb, cherry)

I'd recommend choosing whatever album intrigues you the most and listening to the entire thing or listening to the individual song recs from shallow believer & imaginary enemy. This isn't my best describing work because I am half asleep but whatever fuck it we ball. I encourage you to message me about your the used listening because I want to know what you think and I can provide more tailored recs once I know a little of what you like the most from their music. Have fun ‼️💃

TARGET AUDIENCE REACHED. TYSM im saving all of the recs im getting into one big document by the time i get thru all of them i think ill have listened to all their discography just about. ill definitely update you as i go!!!!

#i lobve rambling about the music im listening to be prepared to wake up to a 10 page essay in yr messages #asks

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5amfever · 2 years ago

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CENTIPEDE HORROR / CALAMITY OF SNAKES (1982)

If you're going to do a double bill, you might as well go hogshit wild, and that's exactly what I did do the detriment of my own sanity with back-to-back viewings of CENTIPEDE HORROR and CALAMITY OF SNAKES, both from 1982 and both stupid in their own unique ways.

CENTIPEDE HORROR finds the grandchildren of a man who burnt down a village 50 years ago being punished by a powerful sorcerer, and the recipe for this particular punishment is centipedes. Lots and lots of really big centipedes. The film opens with shocker shots of centipedes crawling across wooden platforms, emerging from the shadows and poking their little pincers out from drooping foliage. If I were the type of person to get skeeved out by these shots and the chitter-chitter-chitter SFX that accompany them, buddy, this flick woulda been turned off quick.

What follows is roughly 90 minutes of centipede curses, a few solid gross-up close-ups and a climax that finds two wizards dueling from afar in the ultimate battle of the mind that includes not one, not two, but at least three ghost chickens. Describing this in vague terms is about four times as fun as actually watching CENTIPEDE HORROR, which comes from director Keith Lee Pak-Ling and has enough lulls between its standout moments to put a human centipede to sleep.

It is, however, a positively delightful experience when placed next to the following feature, which aims to top even the most abundant acts of animal cruelty on film with one central, slithering focus.

In a bold move that would leave Indiana Jones positively beaming, Chi Chang and his team of dipshits decided to make a film about karmic retribution for cruelly killing snakes by… cruelly killing a bunch of snakes. This isn't like a single lingering scene of a turtle being torn apart that you can skip in CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST, this is CALAMITY OF SNAKES, and it lives and dies by its title while its creators dance like lunatics in a special circle of Snake Hell.

The story revolves around a greedy company buying up land for a massive condo and cutting corners during the construction process. One of those corners happens to be the nest of snakes living on the land, so they dispose of them all in the meanest and laziest way possible. Ignoring a couple scattered pleas warning against this, the workers pick up their shovels and start chopping up snakes while the boss man hops in an excavator and mashes hundreds of snakes to a bloody pulp in a few gleeful scoops.

It's not like the filmmakers were ignorant during all of this. It's in the script that there will be some form of divine retribution for the acts of the characters, so does that apply to the crew, as well? Either way it clearly doesn't matter, because construction continues and we're eventually treated to a condo full of residents screaming and writhing as snakes are tossed their way and then summarily executed for the crime of starring in a rather shitty film.

To give you an idea of what CALAMITY OF SNAKES is working with, the Blu-ray from Unearthed Films has a "cruelty-free" version of the feature on-disc, and it's 10 MINUTES SHORTER. A few of those minutes are spent filming various animal fights as they send in some mongooses to take out the snakes, a sequence that goes on for so long I had to fast forward out of sheer boredom. It's a shame, because there are some entertaining moments throughout—including a martial arts master who has to fight a colossal python—and it has a sense of humor about its dumb-as-rocks premise, but they went about the production in the stupidest and most shameful of ways.

So, in the Great Centipedes Vs. Snakes Battle of 1982, I gotta give it up for CENTIPEDE HORROR. Some centipedes may have been harmed during the filming of this motion picture, but it certainly wasn't a multipedal massacre.

#horror movies #centipede horror #calamity of snakes #unearthed films #movies #error 4444

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nadja-antipaxos · 2 years ago

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eight - mirrorball

Previously - Seven || Masterlist || Next - Nine

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: kissing, swearing, making out

Note: Thank you so much to everyone reading this. I truly appreciate your comments. 2 chapters left! "Ammamma" means maternal grandma in Tamil.

Word Count: 2,663

They run drills until lunchtime when Ted gives Priyala a call.

“Hi.” He feels the butterflies fluttering in his stomach when she picks up. They weren’t able to talk too much on Sunday since she had her sister over, but she did tell him repeatedly how much she enjoyed their date.

“Hi.” She laughs for no reason at all.

“Do you wanna join me for lunch?”

“Ugh. No. I wish. I gotta finish these pages.” She sighs. “But Diya and Jaya want to know if you can come for dinner.”

“I definitely can. I need to win their stamp of approval.” He chuckles.

“That won’t be hard. I’ll see you at 6, okay? I made chicken curry, but it’s mild. You and Diya have the same spice tolerance.”

“My hostess with the mostess. I mean—not that you’re mine—sorry—”

“Ted?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re adorable. Don’t apologize for it.”

“Can do, Jimmy Choo.”

Priyala giggles like a teenager and he wishes he could hear that sound all day. Knowing how hard it is for her to let him in, he’s going to take everything he can get.

Ted sits at their kitchen table with the girls on the other side like an interrogation.

“Mummy told us you went on a date.” Diya leans forward.

“Yep. We did.” He nods.

“And you clearly like her.” Jaya raises an eyebrow.

“I do. I think your mom is fantastic.”

“Then we have some ground rules.”

“Do your thing, Sting.”

“We still have movie nights with Henry.”

“Okay.”

“We still go to Richmond games.”

“Of course.”

“And you bring more chocolate chip biscuits.”

“You want more cookies?”

“Double chocolate chip.”

“And no making Mummy mad.”

“Oh! Oh!”

“Yes, Diya?”

“No gross kissing.”

“What’s gross kissing?”

Jaya and Diya stick out their tongues and wag them around. Ted raises his eyebrows.

“Daddy and Hena do that when they think we can’t see and it’s—” Jaya retches.

“I’ve heard your conditions and we have a deal.” He offers his hand and they both shake it.

Priyala walks over from the stove.

“Did I miss something?”

“Nope.” The girls sing in unison.

“Cool.” She looks suspicious.

“Lemme help you.” Ted jumps to his feet.

Dinner doesn’t feel any different. Ted still makes the girls laugh. He still goes in for seconds. The only difference being the squeezes Priyala’s hand when he tells her how great the food is. He looks over at the girls who nod. Holding hands is approved.

Ted helps the girls clean up the table and do the dishes. Diya wants to watch Jurassic Park and swears this time she won’t be scared. Jaya is doubtful. They pile onto the couch.

When the dinosaur hisses at Newman, Diya grabs Ted’s upper arm.

“It’s okay. It ain’t real. It’s basically a robot.”

“What?”

“Yeah all the dinos are remote control.”

“Oh, cool.”

“Dinosaurs have been extinct for bloody ages.” Jaya mumbles.

“Shh and don’t say bloody.” Priyala looks at her.

“It’s true! Read a book.” Jaya shrugs.

After the movie, she puts the girls to bed while Ted waits on the couch aimlessly flipping through channels. It’s all but forgotten when she joins him back on the couch.

“Thank you, Ted.”

“For?”

“Being so good to my kids.”

“It’s very easy. They’re great kids.”

“I hope they weren’t too hard on you.”

“No, their demands were reasonable. More cookies. No frenching with them around.”

“But they’re not around now.”

“They are not.”

Ted leans over and kisses her. Her perfume fills his nose. He will never get over this.

“You smell so good, darlin’. I love spending time with you and having that all over my sweater.”

“It’s unisex. Should I buy you some?” She chuckles and cups his face.

“It’s better on you.” He pulls her into his lap and she giggles.

Her mouth peppers kisses along his jaw and throat and he stops breathing for a second. His hands slide down her back.

“How are you so good at that?”

“Research for my award-winning books.”

“Right, of course.”

Her tongue brushes over his and he can’t help but moan. This is just kissing. She pulls back and looks at his mussed brown hair and flushed face. Suddenly, there's a yelp from upstairs.

“Stop it, Jaya! You scared me!”

“You’re such a big baby!”

Priyala sighs heavily and gets off his lap to chase the argument going on upstairs.

“I’ll be right back.”

Ted nods. Michelle only wanted one child, so he never thought about how Henry might be with a sibling. He wasn’t lying. The girls are great. Priyala has done a wonderful job. They’re sweet and polite. Aside from the usual kid nonsense (like right now), they don’t make things too difficult for her. And most importantly, they love her. They really love her.

Priyala rolls her eyes and sits next to him.

“Next date should be adults only.”

Heat burns on his face and ears and they burn pink. She puts her hand on her mouth.

“I didn’t mean—I just want to spend time with you without interruptions.”

He nods, still embarrassed and she takes hold of the hand resting on the back of the couch.

“I know with, uh, Sassy, things went fast, but I don’t want that with you. I want it to really matter. So, I wanna go slow.”

She nods and squeezes his hand. It’s all-new for him she knows that and other than a one-night stand and some bad dates, it’s new for her too.

“I’m good with slow.”

He inches towards her face at a painstakingly slow pace making her laugh. He laughs and gives her a kiss. “Maybe not that slow.”

Mornings still involve getting coffee with Beard and the girls. He wouldn’t put Beard out like that and he knows the girls enjoy it. Besides, it really is just coffee. Beard notices the two of them talking close and quiet, so he leans down to the girls’ level.

“They took forever, huh?”

“Seriously.” Diya’s brown eyes widen.

“Things aren’t really that different with Mummy dating Coach Lasso. They just hold hands now.” Jaya shrugs.

“Much better than Daddy and Hena. She took us to The British Girl Shop so many times.”

Beard nods despite not really understanding.

“Historical colonizer dolls.” Jaya explains. “Even the dolls of color. Colonized.”

“We prefer these dolls Ammamma got us from India. They wear pretty saris and plaited hair.” Diya smiles.

“We told Ted that we wanted more chocolate chip biscuits if he wanted us to allow him to date our mum.” Jaya tucks her hair behind her ear.

“Good negotiating.” Beard raises his eyebrows.

Priyala touches Ted’s shoulder. “Have you told Henry and Michelle about us yet?”

“I will. I just gotta figure out the right way to do it. Henry wasn’t a big fan of that paparazzi photo in the park.” He puts his hands out. “Not that he doesn’t like you or the girls.”

“Ted, I’ve seen him on FaceTime. I know he likes us. You don’t start belting like Idina in front of people you don’t like.” She raises her eyebrows. He nods. He really does appreciate how much she’s gone out of her way to include Henry. She knows how important he is.

“Just seeing me with other kids after being so far away.” He furrows his brow. “It’s just hard. Change is real hard.”

Priyala nods and squeezes his shoulder. “How about you tell them and then we can smooth it over with a movie night?”

“You are perfect, Ms. Kumari.” He dips down and gives her a quick peck on the lips. She laughs and he kisses her again.

The next morning that very kiss is in The Sun with the headline:

Coffees and Kisses! Coach Lasso Romances Ms. Romance!

Ted’s stomach fills with dread as texts come in from Rebecca and Keeley (who is coordinating with Priyala’s team for a statement). He knows it’s too early for Michelle to be up, so he just feels like his feet are made of stone until he talks to them. What is she going to say? What’s Henry going to say?

There’s a knock on his door and when he opens it, he sees three Indian women (well, one woman and two young girls). He opens it wider and lets them all in.

“I think the headline was tacky.” Diya lifts her chin.

“I don’t see what the big deal is. Why is Mummy in the paper anyway?” Jaya rolls her eyes.

“Because Coach Lasso is a big deal.” Diya swats her on the shoulder. “Some people care about sports and coaches.”

“Whatever. Mummy starts dating Zayn Malik and I’ll see what the fuss is about.”

Priyala moves past her daughters and gives Ted a hug. He squeezes her tight.

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” She feels awful. This is exactly what he didn’t want.

“Don’t be sorry, honey. It’s what I get for dragging my feet.”

“Beard’s in the car. I’m driving you today. They can’t get past my tinted windows.”

“We already got you coffee.” Diya chirps up.

“Thank you so much, Diya.” He smiles at her.

Around lunch, Ted gets the call he’s been dreading. He answers on the first ring.

“Ted…”

“Michelle, I was gonna tell you. I—”

“I told you how upset Henry got last time. I know we’re not together, but I shouldn’t be finding out about this online.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen like that. I’m serious. How’s Henry?”

“Not great. He asked me if you were hiding this from him.”

“No, I wasn’t—really—”

“Ted, I gotta go. We need to talk about this later.”

“Okay, right, I understand. B-Bye.”

Ted sulks a bit around the pitch until Priyala shows up for lunch.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Got a time machine? Or the ability to reverse the Earth’s rotation like Superman?”

“Nope.”

“Well, dang. Then I don’t think there’s anything you can do.”

“You’re gonna talk to Henry tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna call me after?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s gonna be okay. It will.” She squeezes his shoulder.

“I hope so.” He sighs.

When Ted goes back to training, Priyala gets ushered into the boot room. She waves her hand when Rebecca offers her a cigarette.

“I just feel so bad. Poor Henry.”

“He’s young though. He’ll bounce back, yeah?” Keeley tilts her head.

“Yeah, but they’re so close. It really fucking sucks when your kid is mad at you. Jaya’s already got preteen outbursts and I gotta tell myself she doesn’t mean it.”

“if I had known, I would’ve made sure it was never printed.” Rebecca sighs. “Tacky headline too.”

“That’s what Diya said.” Priyala laughs dryly.

“Because she’s smart like her mum.” Rebecca pats her on the shoulder.

“Ted’s so sad.” Priyala chews on her lip.

“I can guard the door and you can get in a quickie if it’ll help?” Keeley winks.

“No.” Rebecca and Priyala say at the same time. There’s a long pause.

“I mean, what really won me over about Hena, the girls’ stepmom, was how much they mattered to her.” Priyala chews her lower lip.

Rebecca lifts her brow.

“Now, I talked to Nina and we think a simple confirmation and ‘respect our privacy’ is the response we’d like.” Keeley taps her ashes into a boot.

“We’re dating not dying,” Priyala smirks at how hard that makes Rebecca laugh. “Just confirm it and say we want the focus on Saturday’s game.”

“Ooh. I like that.” Keeley grins.

That night, Ted finally FaceTimes with Henry and Michelle. He lays it all out as honestly as he can.

“Henry, Michelle, I never meant to upset you. I’m so sorry. I love you, buddy. I love you more than anything in the world. I had a whole plan to do a movie night and tell you.”

“Really?” Henry asks.

“Yeah. I would never hide this from you. I just didn’t move fast enough and we had no idea we were being photographed.” Ted hopes he believes him.

Michelle looks at Henry who nods and smiles.

“We understand. It was just a surprise.”

“Thank you. Really appreciate you both.”

“If anything else happens with you two, just send me a text.”

“Will do.”

“Good to see you happy, Ted.”

“Thank you.”

“So, Dad, can you watch a movie now?”

“Sure can.”

Ted sends Priyala a text so that she doesn’t expect a call right away. She tells him to enjoy the movie and asks if he can give Michelle’s email. He doesn’t know how she’d feel about that, but he sends her the text all the same when Michelle approves. Priyala promises it’s for good reasons.

Hi Michelle,

I know we’ve only met on FaceTime, but I just wanted to say I’m really sorry for how the news broke. It was super strange for me when my ex started dating and I would’ve hated to find out in the press. We weren’t keeping secrets, I swear. My girls like to remind me I’m not even famous enough for anyone to care about, so I’m shocked we ended up in the paper. I hope I’m not overstepping. I just know how important Henry and you are to Ted and I would never come in the way of that. One of my girls' conditions for Ted dating me was that they get more movie nights with Henry. I thought that was sweet and it shows what a special boy you have. Please know whenever Henry wants to visit, we would love to have you both over for dinner. I can put you up in a great hotel too. See you both at the next movie night. Have a great week. Hope this wasn’t too weird.

-Priyala

Michelle replies almost immediately.

Hi Priyala,

I really appreciate this email. I wasn’t upset with you at all. You’re not overstepping. It’s your relationship. Thank you for understanding how complicated this is. I’m really happy Ted found someone who has already gone through this. It’s not easy. I know Henry thinks Diya and Jaya are very cool and I agree. He’s told his friends at school about the cool Indian girls he knows from London. I’ll be in touch about the visit. Maybe we can surprise Ted.

-Michelle

Priyala shuts her laptop. She knows things are smoothed over with Michelle, but she’s never really had her love life photographed like that. It’s strange. Her phone lights up and she sees Rushil’s name.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Didn’t expect to see you in my paper.”

“Yeah. I didn’t—I would’ve told you but I’m sorry—“

“Diya told me last week.”

“Oh? She did.”

“Yeah. She likes him. And I’m glad you’re dating again.”

“I honestly didn’t think you’d care.”

There’s an awkward silence.

“I deserve that. Too late to apologize?”

“Hasn’t expired yet.”

“I’m sorry, Pri. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did.”

“Thank you, Rushil.”

A lingering weight has been lifted.

“Odd though. You being papped on your coffee route.”

“Right? We never see any press.”

“Does this happen to Ted a lot?”

“Um, no. Not really.”

“Not exactly salacious. Who even has your bloody coffee schedule memorized? No offense, Pri, but you’re not Rihanna.”

“Yeah…”

Ted’s foot jostles up and down watching Sharon write in her notes.

“Your new relationship being made public against your will is very stressful.”

“Yes, it was.”

“How are you feeling about it?”

“Okay. Michelle was upset but I talked to her. Then Pri emailed her.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, she really didn’t want Michelle to think we were keeping anything from her.”

Sharon nods. “So, she really cares about you. And your relationships.”

“She’s a good one. A great one.”

Sharon gives him a look knowing he’s not actually expressing much. Ted fiddles with his thumbs and looks down. He sighs and looks back up at Sharon.

“I like her a lot. I’m lucky to have her.”

#ted lasso #ted lasso x oc #ted lasso x ofc #oc: priyala kumari #mirrorball #fan fic

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secrettreestuffidk · 2 years ago

Text

"Okay. I will admit, that maybe it wasn't very well thought out." Danny fiddles with the cup of milk (seriously?) they provided him with, for lack of a better view.

Seriously. They let him on the super-secret space station for this conversation, but the meeting room they stick him in doesn't even have a window.

"In my defense, my intentions were pure." well. "My intentions were 80% pure." he admits, maybe exaggerating by an amount between 15 and 30 percent, "But! My intentions were 100% non-malicious, and I think that's what really counts."

Mr. Constantine pinches the bridge of his nose, "Right. Sure. Of course. You're, what, 12?"

"16." Danny interjects.

"What the ffffheck is a kid your age doing getting into the soul trade?" Mr. Constantine continues, like he hadn't said anything.

And, well. Danny had promised to give this guy problems. It helps that he's annoying. Sucks for him, though, because Danny can do annoying too.

"Are you familiar with Phineas and Ferb?"

"What."

"Phineas and Ferb. The cartoon."

"What."

"Alright, that's fair. It's an American cartoon and you're British or something. I wouldn't expect you to know it. The basic gist is that there are one hundred and four days of summer vacation, 'til school comes along, just to end it." he recites, not singing, "so, as you can imagine, the annual problem for our generation is finding a good way to spend it."

"By collecting nearly 2000 soul contracts from various demons?"

"And eBay vendors. Yeah." Danny nods, "As you do."

Mr. Constantine inhales very slowly, and exhales even slower. "As you do. Y'know what? forget I asked; I don't care anymore. Second question: how?"

"How what?" If ever there was a time to play dumb. It's now.

"How did you collect nearly 2000 soul contracts from--"

"From the eBay vendors?" Danny interrupts, "It was pretty straightforward. I have a rich friend who is always up for shenanigans."

"From the demons. The very dangerous demons with armies of the damned who like to eat the souls of stupid little kids for breakfast?"

Well Danny doesn't appreciate those implications.

"What, like it's hard?"

silence.

"I mean, really, it was more tedious than anything."

Nothing.

"Like, did you seriously have to sell your soul one thousand nine hundred forty-eight times? I gotta say, it gets old."

ugh. This guy.

"Anyways. The small-fry, I asked politely. The medium-fry, I kicked their butts until they asked politely. The big-fry... I mostly just stole from."

"Stole from."

"Yeah. They seriously need to upgrade their security. It was like the magical-slash-demonic equivalent of the guy-with-a-clipboard walking-with-purpose thing?"

"You know you've probably just made some very powerful enemies?"

"Eh." Danny waves a dismissive hand, "I'll kick their butts eventually."

Seriously. Hyper-powerful torture-happy maniacs just running loose? Not contained in magical coma-coffins? Seems like a problem that needs fixing sooner or later. And unfortunately, Danny is most likely the one for the job. Ugh.

Besides, It was Clockwork who told him to steal from them, so there's probably a Greater Good to work towards in the immediate future. And it never hurts to have help from the guy who controls time itself.

"Right, great! Well if you're just the world's best bloody demon-wrangler I guess I'll leave you to it!"

"Alright, sure. Sounds good." Danny sips at his milk.

Ah gross, it got warm.

"Jesus fucking Christ up a chimney." Mr. Constantine mutters darkly, making to storm out of the room.

Sensing their meeting's imminent end, Danny sets down his lukewarm milk and shifts to his feet, "Right, well. I'll keep an eye out for loopholes to give you your soul back. If I cross paths with an angel I'll be sure to ask."

Mr. Constantine does the full-body equivalent of a stutter, "If you 'cross paths' with a bloody angel."

"I'll ask around. See if I can't figure out where they hang out." It'll probably be good to have a few on his side when he inevitably ends up fighting the bigger demons.

"You're mad, aren't you? Just completely batshit insane." The door to their meeting room slides open, "Oh! Perfect! One batshit to another! I'm out!"

Mr. Constantine elbows past the figure in the doorway, and oh holy fuck it's Batman.

"Daniel J. Fenton," Batman, the Batman, knows his name, "Amity Park, Illinois, 'the most haunted city in the world.'"

"It really is."

"I'd like a word."

"Jazz Holy Fuck!"

"Danny! Don't kick my door open! And language!"

"You'll never guess who the Justice League's new Junior Paranormal Consultant is."

I love seeing Danny Phantom showing up and being like ‘don’t ask too many questions but John Constantine I own your soul. All of it. Lmao sucks to suck bitch’, and he’s usually all Ghost King Full Regalia as he does it, at least in front of the Justice League, but consider—

He just shows up as Danny Fenton.

“yeah I got bored and collected the pieces like Pokémon. Gotta catch ‘em all” says the 5’2 teen who looks like a stiff breeze could trip him. He denies being a sorcerer, or a magician, concedes he’s maybe psychic but mostly he’s just…. The kid of two mad scientists—who have a basement lab where they opened a portal to what he SAYS is not hell but no one is frankly CONVINCED, by the way—and he hasn’t decided what to do with Constantine yet besides getting Danny into some r rated horror movies, but figures he should tell the dude probably.

“What’d you even trade for some of his soul contracts?”

“Don’t worry about it”

They worry about it

#unedited un-proof-read written in like an hour #it is way past my bedtime and i gotta get up at like 6 am tomorrow

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hoodieofholland · 3 years ago

Note

Omg congrats!!! I just can't stop thinking about Tom making reader squirt for the first time and she's all embarrassed by it but tom is assuring her that it was hot af 🌷

Thank youu! Sorry for taking that long, but here we go! Also i got a little carried away, dont mind it

Warnings: SMUT (+18), dom!tom, slight degradation (name calling), fingering (f), squirting, unprotected sex, typos for sure.

You couldn't lie and say you didn't deserve what was happening right, you had been a tease the whole day with Tom, walking around the house in nothing but his t-shirt, no panties in the way, bending every now and then just to pick something you dropped on purpose, and massaging his shoulders every time you made a shitty excuse to go and talk to him while he was working.

And now there were you, head dizzy, chest coming up and down in panting breathing while you approached your high for the fourth time in a row... or maybe it was the sixth? You couldn't remember anymore. Tom was edging you for so long that all you could sense now was the wetness between your legs, the squeaky sounds it made when his two fingers entered your throbbing pussy with determination.

"Are you close, my love?", he asks, his chest vibrating against your back, his lips on your ear, bitting your skin slightly from time to time. You bite your lips, too scared of the tricky question, but still too aware that it was nonsense keeping it from him -- Tom knew when you were close. He knew your body from your head to toe.

"Yes, Tommy", you whine lowly, voice lost in between your moans and incoherent pleads for release. "Please- let me come".

"Course, darling", though his voice held nothing but sweetness, you knew it wouldn't work that easy. He took his fingers out of you and you squirmed in protest. "But only when I'm sure my girl has learnt her lesson. Do you understand why I'm doing this? Eh?"

He grips your jaw, making you look at him. You can feel his hard cock against your back, throbbing with every movement you make towards him.

"Yes", you drawl, too weak to answer something else. In front of you, there's a mirror, the one that is always standing in your shared bedroom. Tom liked to keep it that way, so whenever you both felt like it, he'd fuck you in front of it. Usually, you loved it, you loved watching yourself come undone, watching Tom take control and fuck you to oblivion. But today, today was different.

You were a mess, completely wrecked, and though you loved the fact that it was Tom who made you feel like this, you wanted to reach your high desperately.

"Everything okay?", he asks, peppering kisses along your jaw. He always made sure to ask before going back to edging you again. You nod your head, but it's not enough. "What's the word, sweetheart?"

"Green... green, you can- keep going", you respond, bitting your lips and closing your eyes and his hand slides down your inner thigh, so close to your heat. "Please, I wanna cum".

Tom gives you a harsh slap there and you jolt. "You're gonna get what I give you, brat. What is it? Did you not learn a fucking thing?"

You exhale a sharp breathe and shake your head. "I'm sorry, Tommy. I'll be good, I promise".

"You sure are", he smirks, rubbing the skin smoothly. "Cause you're my good little thing, aren't you?"

You nod and try to reach his lips, turning your head to the side. He kisses you deeply, but only for a brief moment. "You wanna take my cock?"

Before you can realise, you're whining in response, trying to grind your ass against his length. "Fuck, you're so greedy", he moans in your ear. "I'm gonna give it to you, pretty girl. C'mere".

You manage to adjust your position to align yourself with him, knees on bed as you feel your arousal slipping between your legs. Tom's eyes are fixed in your ass, teeth grazing his lower lip as his hands are gripping your waist to help you align your entrance with his cock.

He teases you a bit more, his red tip brushing your clit until you are forcing yourself down on him. This wasn't supposed to be something you'd do, but fortunately for you, Tom didn't seem to mind this time, too anxious to get your walls hugging him tightly.

"Fuck, always so bloody tight, darling", he moans, planting his feet on the mattress before starting to pound into you. "No matter how many times I fuck this hole".

You whimper, your belly already tightening as your high was close already. "Tommy, please, don't stop".

Tom chuckles between whines coming from the back of his throat, "You like begging to me, don't you, baby? Don't even have to ask, my greedy little thing".

Your head falls back and Tom gets the chance to grip your jaw and kiss you hard, lips messy and sometimes losing their contact as he thrusts his hips deeper, faster, making the sounds of your skin slapping echo through the room.

"Shit, Tom, I'm gonna- I'm gonna cum", you moan, your walls clenching around him viciously.

But before you can finally enjoy your sweet release, Tom pushes you towards the mattress, making you gasp in surprise. Your hair was all over the place, the palm of your hands laying flat against the mattress as your confused brain tries to catch on what was happening before Tom pulls out of you just to bottom out in a precise and deep thrust, the last one before he pulls out again.

"This is not how it works, sweetheart. Didn't learn anything, did you? Turn around, brat", he commands and you do as you're told, rolling on bed before he takes a hold of both of your wrists and pin your hands above your head. "You have to ask for it, love", he slaps the each one of your inner tights and you arch your back in pleasure and pain. "Thought it was pretty obvious by now".

"Fuck, fuck, 'm sorry, Tommy. Please, lemme cum", you cry out, bucking your hips towards him, but all you get is a mischievous smirk.

"You're gonna come, baby, but only after I'm finished. How does it sound, eh? Do you want my cum, pretty girl?"

You nod eagerly, licking your lips as he releases your hands. He takes a hold of his cock on one hand, lazily stroking it, and takes your hand on the other one, bringing it to his mouth. He places a kiss on the tip of your fingers, "You're gonna play with your clit f'me, alright? But you're not cumming. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Tommy", you whimper, bitting your lips as he licks your finger, spreading wetness before placing them over your bundle of nerves, and you start to give it slow circle motions, trying not to apply too much pressure to not cum before time.

"Yeah, baby, like that", he moans, fastening the movements of his hand over his length. "Oh, fuck, you're so gorgeous, 'm so fucking lucky".

You moan, breathing getting heavier as you bite your lips hard to hold yourself back.

"I'm close, darling", his shoulders fall towards you, his back curving as his high approaches violently. "Spread your legs a bit more"

"Cum on me, Tommy", you said, widening your legs, giving him enough view of your soaked core.

It took him only a few more intense strokes before he came, his white hot cum falling all over your pussy, making you clench around nothing. "Fuck, fuck", he rode himself through his high, eyes heavy as he tried to keep a look on you, on your bare pussy, your wetness and his cum painting you like a goddamn work of art. "Shit, look at you", he pants, recovering from his orgasm. "Gotta make you cum, pretty girl. Been so good to me".

You nod eagerly and jolt slightly when he slaps his hand over yours, taking it away from your clit and replacing with his thumb.

Tom straightened himself over bed, his eyes never leaving yours and he got down on you, his lips hungry and precise to make you cum as quick as possible and put and end to your suffering. You close your eyes, tilting your head back as your mouth falls open to a silent moan that gets stuck on the back of your throat.

Tom's fingers enters you and he doesn't take longer to curl them inside of you, making you whine and squirm with the closeness of your high.

"C'mon, love, you can cum now, cum on my mouth, pretty girl", he hums against your pussy lips, licking until he hits your clit, his fingers never stopping his work.

The edges, the great amount of stimulation, everything comes back to you as you orgasm hits your body, making you shiver and your body start to tremble. You moan Tom's name loudly, and he takes a hold of your hand when you starts to fist the sheets so strongly it gets your knuckles to turn white.

"Fuck, fuck, oh, my-", you let it all go away and feel the wetness of the sheets beneath you, while your hips buck towards Tom's face.

"Shit", you hear him gasp, taking his fingers out of you. You open your eyes slowly, breathing still coming in pants, and it takes a little while until you can focus on anything.

The first thing that you see is Tom's face covered in wetness, but it's not like other times he eats you out. His chin is visibly covered on it, and when you prop your elbows on the mattress to take a better look, you see his hands also covered on it. The sheets have a big stain of your cum and you can already feel your face turning red.

"You squirted", Tom said, eyes twinkling with something you couldn't recognize at first, a smirk on his face, but embarrassed as you felt, you assumed he was going to make fun of it.

"Oh, my God, I'm sorry", you whined, covering your face with your hands. "Shit, I've never- I've never done that before, I'm really sorr-"

"What?", Tom gasped, taking your hands out of your face. The smirk was still there, his brown eyes deep and bright. "What are you apologizing for?"

You blink, a bit confused at first.

"Don't you- uh, don't you think it's... gross?"

Tom scoffs, shaking his head. "Are you kidding me? That was the hottest thing I've ever seen", he said, eyebrows cocking. "And what the fuck, you mean, this was your first time doing it?"

You nod sheepishly and his smirk turn somehow even more cocky. "Fuck it, we need to do that again", he shakes his head un disbelief, leaning in to kiss you. You can taste yourself, "You're so fucking hot, darling, can't believe you're all mine".

You sigh in relief, easing yourself and letting yourself enjoy the kiss and the bliss you were still on after the intense orgasm. Eventually, Tom made you get out of bed, carrying you to a hot bath to take care of you and some light sores you might have gotten, but he didn't let you go get some rest before making sure you knew that was the first time, but not the last.

#hoodie 600's sleepover #tom holland #tom holland blurbs #tom holland imagines #tom holland fic #tom x reader #smut #tom holland smut

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gravesightings · 4 years ago

Note

The slashers reacting to someone who isn't fazed by gore and blood. Something like the slashers walking into the house covered in blood and the s/o is all like "Don't leave blood stains on my carpet, thank you very much."

changed it up a bit per slasher if that’s cool with you. loved writing this by the way. thanks for requesting!

slashers reactions to: a s/o unfazed by gore and blood

Asa Emory / The Collector

...you’re not screaming your head off? he was sure you’d leave him right then and there when he had slit an intruder’s throat right in front of you.

would you like to see his collection? beware my dear, it’s not for the faint-hearted! watches for your reaction with great intensity. do you still love him? are you positive?

tests out just how much violence you can witness before you crack. unfortunately for you, asa might have forgotten to give you a head’s up beforehand.

was he threatening you...? it’s hard to tell. he doesn’t seem to want to hurt you though. all the displays of violence were presented to you almost. was he showing off, then?

once he had even brought you along to a victim’s home (fully-rigged) to watch him work. when you dismissively asked him what he wants for dinner after the whole escapade he’s left stunned. oh, he’s definitely keeping you.

Billy Lenz

bad billy, stupid billy! he’s done it now. why did you have to walk in at the worst possible time? now he’ll be all.... alone...? y..you’re still here?

approaches you cautiously and makes sure you haven’t gone in a trance of some sort. when he realizes you’re of sound mind (sorta?) he still has trouble comprehending it.

oh well. billy’s not gonna try too hard to understand you. he just knows you’re okay with it and that’s more than he can possibly ask for. now, would you let him cuddle you? please?

the stains bother you more than witnessing the murder? this little piggy makes his head hurt. if it means that much to you he’ll change and then you two can cuddle, right? right?

basic hygiene aside, attic man is full-on lovestruck. you smell nice and you don’t scream at him? he’s hit the jackpot! would keep you with him for as long as possible.

Bo Sinclair

“huh. you’re all sorts of fucked up too, aren’t ya?” just.. take it as a compliment.

if you previously weren’t on body-retrieval duty, then congratulations! now that bo’s sure you won’t freak out over a corpse, he’s gonna put you to work.

things are turning out great for him! less work and less bullshit. thank god. now.. how good are you with a crossbow?

if you aren’t actually up for some murder, he’ll begrudgingly teach you how to dress wounds instead. “gotta pull your own weight somehow,” he’d say.

this gross ass man would wipe some of the victim’s blood on your face while you’re patching him up just to tease you. he’ll even laugh at you as he does it. (that’s just his way of being friendly.)

Brahms Heelshire

struggling to understand at first. run him through this again - you’re mad at him for ruining the rug and not for disemboweling a man in cold blood?

doesn’t believe you in the slightest. prepare for some bloody shenanigans! uh-oh, it seems he accidentally got all messy when he was getting rid of the body. would you please clean him?

you’re scolding him for ruining his clothes? are you not about to throw up? .....have you finally lost it? oh god no, what has he done?! immediately starts checking you whilst still in the bath.

no, don’t swat him away! please tell him you’re alright! did you hit your head perhaps? was it psychological damage? he’s not qualified for this!

once he’s past the manic state, he’d still look at you weird from time to time. this is a huge relief for him but ...really? he got this lucky with you? are you sure you didn’t hit your head?

Bubba Sawyer

so hear this: it’s been people... all this time. that’s the secret to good chili. cue bubba nervously shuffling behind you, mentally preparing himself to pick you up and lock you in his room in case the others start attacking you.

“huh. you don’t say,” ....everybody’s surprised at this point - even grandpa sawyer! after a moment of silence there’s a lot of hollering and yipping. bubby found himself a keeper! how lucky!

this has literally never happened before so bubba himself is pretty shocked. the rest of the family is just about ready for an impromptu celebration though! tonight’s special guest: you!

unless you’re against being a cannibal, you’re sure to have lots of fun! if you are - well then, be prepared for an unfortunate demise. (bubba would be upset, but he wouldn’t go against his own family.)

immediately accepted by the entire family. the gore doesn’t bother you and you love bubba as he is. what more is there to ask? actually, maybe do some chores too.

Jason Voorhees

how long have you been standing there? jason immediately drops the victim, frozen in place and silently pleading with you not to run away.

when you reach out to wipe some blood off of his mask he tenses, but he’s too afraid to make another move. were you... cleaning him? after you had just seen him crush a man’s head with his bare hands?

very emotional. if you ask him if he’s hurt - there goes his heart. it’s gone. it’s yours now. smile at him and he might actually fall to his knees. a huge weight had just been lifted off his shoulders.

incredibly relieved. all this time he’s seen himself as a monster but you? what has he done to deserve you? he’s so thankful.

still keeps you away from the gore as much as possible but it’s more of his overprotective side taking over. now that he’s sure you aren’t afraid of him, he’ll be so soft with you.

Jesse Cromeans / Chromeskull

not shy about his job but makes sure you have little to no involvement in it. impulsively comes home blood-soaked one night just to test you.

your reaction, or lack thereof, has him fascinated. merely tilts his head at you when you warned him about making a mess. cheeky.

sees it as an open invitation to be more himself around you. but he’s not about to drive you over to where his victims are just to show off. (as tempting as it may be.)

starts off as subtle as possible. bartender asking for your number? check it babe, his head’s on the floor now. you discover very quickly that being subtle is not one of his many talents.

his kills may be messy but jesse himself is a very well-groomed man so you don’t need to worry about him embracing you whilst covered in gore.

Michael Myers

did you just yell at him for tracking in blood? are you serious?

mikey here would be confused enough to actually listen to you for once, kicking his shoes off by the doorway, eyes fixated on you as you rush to clean up the mess. how odd.

beware this man’s morbid curiosity. the gears are turning in his head as he approaches you, babbling on about fresh clothes or something of the like. mikey suddenly decides he has selective hearing.

his hands shoot up and you freeze immediately. he cups your face in his hands as he stares you down, his touch disturbingly gentle.

it would have been endearing if not for the fact that he was actually wiping his bloody fucking hands all over your face. there’s not a hint of emotion present and yet, you feel as though he’s having fun.

Thomas Hewitt

ah, shit. why did he have such horrible timing? he stops dead in his tracks in front of you, freshly out of the basement where he had been working on the meat all day.

this is it. this is the part you leave him, realize how much of a monster he is. any moment now, you’ll start screaming bloody murder. he’s--

“you want some sweet tea?”

huh? did he hear you right? when he doesn’t respond, naturally you repeat yourself. sweet tea? you’re offering him sweet tea? he’s in shock. maybe he needs to sit down.

he stares at his hands, then down his apron - all blood-soaked and disgusting. then he looks back up at you, offering him a cold glass of sweet tea with a smile. nervously clears his throat before taking a swig.

the loud beating of his heart is distracting. why is it so hard to look you in the eyes all of a sudden? he’s glared at many people before, no problem. ah yes, the mortifying ordeal of falling in love.

Vincent Sinclair

anxiety powerhouse vincent would slowly back away, blood-soaked and apologetic. don’t look at him! he doesn’t deserve your love. he-- ....oh, the floor?

quickly runs off to clean himself, dodging all the furniture best he can in his flustered state. did he hear you right? you were worried about the floor?

checks back to see if he’s made a mess. if so, he’ll clean it up himself. just sort of stares at you in confusion for the rest of the day.

the next time he kills someone in front of you, he’s cautious. when you respond the same way he’s visibly relieved. thank goodness. vincent is a lot more relaxed around you now.

begins to make a conscious effort to be as clean and efficient with his kills as possible. it would take some time to adjust, but now he’s much more dangerous.

#requests #slashers #my writing #reacts #asa emory #the collector #billy lenz #bo sinclair #brahms heelshire #bubba sawyer #jason voorhees #jesse cromeans #chromeskull #michael myers #thomas hewitt #vincent sinclair #slasher party #hmm yes bastard hands mcmike being a bastard #as usual

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super-unpredictable98 · 3 years ago

Text

Tourist Trapped (pt 2) | Misfits Timeline Anomaly’ verse

An oc x oc collaboration between @seanfalco & @super-unpredictable98

Word Count: 3,1k

Warnings: Strong language, smut, a little tiny bit of angst.

(Masterlist)

"God, I'm starving!" Lydia groaned as she jumped off the car. "It's right over there... Nathan's Famous."

As they entered the restaurant they found a quiet booth and piled in.

"So, what sort of hotdog should I try?" Win asked, looking over the menu. "There are so many choices," she murmured, chewing her lip in thought.

"I love chili cheese dogs, I'll probably order some fries too..." Lydia mused. "Whether people like it or not, hotdogs are sandwiches and what goes better with a sandwich than chips?"

“I’ll try a chili dog, then,” she decided, lifting her head.

"Look, Lyds!" her Nathan pointed. "They sell shirts, how cool would it be t'have a shirt with my name on it?"

“Oh yeah, gotta get y’both one,” Win’s Nathan insisted.

"I'll order for us," Lydia got up. "And there's no fucking way I'll wear a shirt that says Nathan's on it."

"Why not? You are technically Nathan's..." he said as if that was the best argument ever made.

“I think it’s kinda hot,” Win murmured, fighting back a grin.

“See, Winnie gets us!” he exclaimed, giving Lyddie his best puppy dog eyes.

"Fine!" she tried not to laugh. "My parents would be so proud of their daughter! Lydia Bellamy, property of Nathan Young..." she mocked.

"Last night y'had no problem with me sayin' you're mine," her Nathan shouted loud and clear, loving the way her cheeks turned red with the comment.

“Course you're ours, Lollipop,” Win’s Nathan teased, dragging his fingertips over her arm.

"You bloody teases, I'll spit on your food," she narrowed her eyes before heading to the counter.

"Funny how you think that would stop me from eating it," her Nathan countered.

"You're so gross," Win laughed, watching Lyds, thinking about how she had nothing on under her skirt. "Are you guys having fun?" she asked, sobering, a genuine smile on her lips.

"I'm havin' a great time," Lyddie's Nathan tucked her hair behind her ear. "This is awesome! I think she's lovin' it too, she really needed that, she's been so stressed lately."

"I'm glad, I love seein' her so relaxed. And spendin' time with you ain't half bad either," Winnie teased, nudging his leg under the table playfully. "I'm rather excited to try this fuckin' hotdog," she chuckled as her fiancé returned with a tray piled high with their food.

"Here you go, my loves," Lydia placed the tray on the table. "Let's see what you think, Winnie," she took a bite first, not caring about the mess she was making.

"Someone's hungry..." her Nathan watched with a silly grin.

"Oh, I see why you wanted t'eat here now," Win murmured with a smirk as she picked up her messy hot dog, bringing it to her lips. Opening wide, she pushed as much into her mouth as she could comfortably, feeling the chili smear against her cheeks and fall down her chin.

"Oh my God..." Lyddie mumbled under her breath, it was late fall in New York, but she felt suddenly very hot. "D-do you like it babe?" she looked away with a heavy sigh, swallowing nervously, her Nathan very entertained by how flustered she was.

"Mmmmm," the other woman moaned, reaching for a napkin. "That's actually really fuckin' good," she exclaimed, her mouth still full before wiping at her lips, only smearing the chili stain further.

"I'm- I'm glad you like it, I knew your would," Lyds clenched her eyes shut, shaking her head before going back to eating. "We should probably go home after... we're done here, it's getting late, isn't it?"

"Oh, already?" Win asked, feigning innocence. "I thought you might be warm enough to go for a dip."

"She's warm alright," Lyddie's Nathan snorted. "I've heard Coney Island is beautiful at night..."

"You are evil, all of you," Lydia whispered.

“I wanna go swimming under the stars and lay on the beach,” Win said dreamily. “But if you wanna go home, we can do it some other time.”

"Nooo," she whined, fighting the thought of how much she wanted to get home and kiss every single bit of her fiancé's body. "We can stay, it's gonna be nice."

"Hey, didn't you mention a brewery less than ten minutes from here? I thought y'wanted t'go there, Lollipop," Nathan taunted. "I'm really thirsty..."

“We could go there first and then swimming,” Winnie suggested.

“I mean, if we only get t’be tourists for the day, we gotta get as much done as possible, right?” her Nathan shrugged.

"I guess..." Lydia gave up, the more she tried to fight it, the more they would want to do it. "And just for the record, I might like being a tourist sometimes."

“Yay!” Win cheered throwing her arms around the other woman in excitement. “Can’t forget our commemorative t-shirts,” she teased before finishing eating.

"That's right!" Lyddie's Nathan shoved the rest of his food I'm his mouth before pulling his clone with him to get the shirts.

"If you can't fight them, join them..." Lyds rolled her eyes.

"That's th'spirit," her fiancé exclaimed. "I'm having a good time with all of you," she murmured pressing a kiss to her jaw. "Thank you for indulging me today."

"You don't need to thank me, I have been a little selfish since we got here... plus I'm about to watch you running around in a swimsuit, I don't see my day getting any better."

"I love you, you horny thing," she teased, pulling her to her feet as the Nathans returned.

"So does this brewery have free samples?" Win's Nathan asked.

"I think so..." Lydia looked at her new shirt, she had to admit it was kinda funny. "I'm very curious to try it."

"Any chance we get t'see you chug for us today?" her Nathan elbowed her arm.

"Hilarious, Nats..." she shook her head.

"Well, I will," Win laughed and they took off toward the building. Lydia followed, half excited and half scared.

"Is somethin' wrong?" her Nathan squeezed her ass as they walked in. "Y'seem nervous."

“Afraid we’ll use your weakness against yeh?” Win’s Nathan murmured quietly. “Cuz we won’t... less you want us to.”

"I don't not want you to..." she admitted. "I just don't know how well I'll function afterwards," she covered her burning cheeks.

“Well we wouldn’t want Winnie t’not get her beach time,” he pointed out, glancing over at her fondly.

"Sure, of course!" Lydia agreed, the thought of ruining her day was haunting. "Maybe I should wait out here, you guys get me a Mermaid Pilsner..."

“What? No!” Win’s Nathan exclaimed. “We can’t leave y’behind, Lollipop!”

“How about you guys go enjoy the brewery tour, and I’ll stay here with Lyds,” Winnie suggested.

"You can go if you want, babe, it's fine," she insisted, kissing the back of her fiancé's hand. "Just bring me a bottle. My birthday is close, maybe we can come back and you all have a free pass to tease me," she sat on a bench, hugging her knees.

Win frowned, nodding toward the door with her head as she sat down.

“Okay, we’ll bring yeh back a bottle,” her Nathan insisted, pulling his clone along.

She watched Lyddie for a moment, tucking her hair behind her ear so she could see her face. “Wanna tell me what’s goin’ on babe?” she asked gently.

"I just wanna give you guys a nice day away from my bullshit," Lyds took a deep breath. "I don't mind, but sometimes I wish I wasn't such a weirdo. I wanted to go and have fun, and just chill."

“I don’t know what ‘bullshit’ you’re talkin’ about, love. You’re not a weirdo. And if y’haven’t noticed, we’ve been having a great day, because we love spending time with you, no matter what it is,” she insisted, stroking her cheek.

"I sometimes feel like I'm the odd one out, just like when I was little, I just changed the outside so other people don't notice... but don't worry, really, you can still-" Lyddie's voice cracked, but she smiled. "You can still catch them, I'll put on my bathing suit and my new shirt and wait for you."

“Uh uh,” Win murmured, shaking her head. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, babe. I wanna spend some time with you. I love you, Lydia Bellamy, you’re gunna be my wife and I wouldn’t change you for the world.”

"I would..." she leaned against Winnie's shoulder. "Sorry for making things sad out of a sudden, I just felt really upset thinking about ruining your beach day. I love you so much, baby."

“Hey,” Win exclaimed, turning to hold her fiancé's face between her hands. “Hey hey, you’re not gunna ruin anything. If we don’t get to the beach today, we can go some other time, it’s not that big a deal. I’d rather make sure that you’re okay.”

"I wanna go too, it's probably the last warm-ish day we have before it gets really cold. And I'm okay, I will be, I have you and the boys. It makes me happy to see you happy. That's all I want."

“And all I want is t’see you happy."

"Can you just hold me a little while we wait for them? That's all I need right now," Lyddie whispered.

“I can do that, babe,” Win said, pulling Lyds into her arms, running her fingers through the other woman's hair. “I love you.”

"I love you more," she closed her eyes, concentrating on the feeling of being held. "I do wanna come back on my birthday, it's a cool spot to celebrate."

“Then that’s exactly what we’ll do babe,” Win assured, kissing a trail from her jaw to her lips.

"D'you think Lyds is okay?" Lyddie's Nathan asked his clone as they were getting her beer. "She knows me so much better than I know her."

“I think she will be... okay. Win’ll make sure of that. She tends t’overthink stuff.”

"Yeah, I guess... Winnie has that talent, doesn't she?" he smiled. "It's really cute."

“It is, she’s a big softie underneath it all. You’ll see, by th’time we get back out there, everythin’ll be alright,” Win’s Nathan exclaimed with certainty.

Lydia's face lit up when she saw the boys coming out. "Hey!" she didn't let go, but found a way to wave at them. "How was it, babe?"

“Hey boys,” Win called, still holding Lyddie as well. “Have fun?”

“Yeah, we got you some samples,” her Nathan exclaimed. “How you two doin'?”

"Good, just missing you," Lydia mumbled, taking the bottle her Nathan handed to her.

"It'll stay cold until you drink it," he winked. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, we were just talking about coming back for my birthday."

“Lyddie wants to go to the beach too,” Win said, still stroking her hair.

"I just gotta put my bikini on..." Lyds grabbed her backpack.

"Or we can do it for ya," her Nathan suggested.

Win’s Nathan snapped his fingers before looking expectantly at the two women.

“Nothing happened,” Win laughed.

“They’re on under your clothes, duh!”

"Okay, I trust you..." Lydia took her shirt off without thinking twice. If he messed it up, the entire Surf Avenue would get a pretty interesting show.

"Jesus, what are you doin'?" her Nathan instinctively tried to cover her.

"The beach is right over there, I'm just getting ready," she shoved her clothes in the backpack.

"Holy shit," Win's Nathan breathed, his eyes widening before he looked at Win who rolled her eyes and lifted her shirt at well, tossing it at his face.

"Let's go get our swim on!" she said excitedly, unable to keep her eyes off Lyddie.

"Like what you see?" Lydia turned around to give them a good view, the ego stroke making her forget all about the sadness plaguing her ten minutes ago. Her Nathan took his shirt off and tried to reach for her, but before he could, she ran away giggling. "Only if you catch me!"

“C’mon!” Win called, rushing after her.

The twins shared a look before they took off after the girls, both determined to get their hands full.

"C'mere y'little tart!" Lyddie's Nathan laughed, wrapping his arms around her as they reached the water, almost orange with the sunset brightness.

"I just thought I'd make things a little more interesting for you guys," she laughed.

“Things are always exciting around you babe!” Win screamed as her Nathan gasped for breath. “You okay there, Nats?” she asked.

“Y-yeah, just fine,” he exclaimed quickly straightening to grab her, tossing her into the water.

"I can barely swim, don't let go of me, you twat!" Lydia watched her Nathan's face, he seemed to like his clone's idea. "If I die, that's it, I'm gone for good, don't you dare!"

"Okay, okay... calm down, I got you," he let her float, never taking his hands away from her.

"This is nice," she looked over at the others.

Win surfaced with a gasp, spluttering incredulously. “Nathan!” she shrieked. “Fuck you, y’twat!” she splashed water at him.

"I'm not saying you deserved it..." Lyds cocked her eyebrow at him, his hair completely drenched. "But you deserved it."

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, but thanks t’me now y’can see Winnie’s nips through her bikini top,” he pointed out, pulling her into his arms.

"Oh yeah," Lyddie's Nathan tilted his head, shamelessly staring at her chest.

"Thank you for your service," Lydia got back to her feet, biting her lip at the sight.

Win flushed at their scrutiny. “Hey!” she exclaimed, though she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the attention. “Like whatcha see?”

"Hmm you have no idea..." Lyds pinched her nipples, leaning in to kiss her. "A few months in county jail for public indecency doesn't sound that bad anymore."

“Ahhh, Lollipop,” Win gasped, squirming in her Nathan’s grasp as she continued playing with her tits.

“Don’t worry, babe, no one can see us,” he murmured.

"Oh, really?" Lydia looked around to make sure before untying the knot behind her back to take her top off. "I've always wanted to do this..."

"Fuckin'- Why you always takin' your clothes off?" her Nathan hissed.

“Shh shh shhh!” Win’s Nathan hushed, glaring at his twin. “If th’girl wants to take off her top, don’t tell her not to!”

"Yeah!" she agreed, "if Winnie wanted to show us her tits, I wouldn't be opposed to it..."

"Well, you two just gave me a boner in the middle of a fuckin' beach, happy?" her Nathan scolded playfully.

"Very, that was the plan all along."

Before anyone could say anything more, Win’s Nathan quickly tugged at the string behind her back, loosening her top. “Oops,” he grinned smugly.

“If it makes you feel any better Natty, I can feel his boner against my back right now too.”

"We should do something about that..." Lyddie mused, kissing Win all the way down from her neck to her tits. "Do you think we should help them or let them watch the two of us? Cause I'm fine with either, you got me really worked up."

“What? No!” Win’s Nathan exclaimed. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have her tits right now.”

"You have a point, but who stayed outside to comfort me while the Onegai Twins went to the brewery?" she smirked.

He opened his mouth and closed it, unable to think of a response. “Yeah, alright, y’do have a point there,” he relented. “Oh fuck,” Win moaned as Lydia kissed her. “I can’t believe we’re doin’ this right out in th’open. I mean, I know you’ve glamoured us, but fuck if this isn’t a turn on.”

Lyddie's Nathan had to agree, he wasn't mad at the idea of watching the girls. It was sexy to think they were the only ones capable of seeing them.

"Yeah, it's very hot," she slid one hand between Winnie's legs wrapping the other arm around her. "And I think you deserve a treat... I'll do anything for you."

“Ohhhh,” Win moaned feeling those skilled fingers brush against her. “Tease me, Lyds. Work me up, and then leave me hanging, please? I know it sounds weird, but I wanna be desperate for you when we get home.”

"It doesn't sound weird, you do that to me all the time," she huffed a laugh, moving her hand slowly, just to make her fiancé's body aware of her presence. "It'll be my pleasure, sweetie."

Winnie wrapped her arms around Lydia’s back, whimpering softly. “I know, I wanted t’let you do it this time,” she whispered, squirming while Nathan held her still.

"I love to see you like this," Lyddie purred, watching her reaction "Can't wait to get home, and make you scream for me" she suddenly stopped, kissing her chest one last time.

“Me too,” Win nearly whined.

“Me three,” her Nathan teased.

"Me four... any chance we could um... go home?" Lyddie's Nathan tried to hide his excitement.

“Yes please,” Winnie agreed.

“Before I drop this glamour, you might wanna fix your tops,” her Nathan laughed.

"Why?" Lyds taunted as she covered herself. "I think people would like the view..."

"That's the problem, isn't it?" her Nathan shook his head to dry his hair like a dog.

“Yeah, don’t want anyone else t’see the goods,” Win’s Nathan agreed, helping Winnie re-tie her swimsuit

"Damn it, I was about to take the offer to be on the cover of Playboy," Lydia went after the backpack to grab a towel.

“Oo we could pose together,” Win joked, throwing her own towel around her shoulders.

"Very funny!" Lyddie's Nathan rolled his eyes. "No sexy pictures are allowed unless it's for us."

"Wow, someone's feeling important..." Lyds put her clothes back on as quickly as possible.

“So possessive,” Win murmured with a tsk. “It kinda turns me on though,” she added, raising up on her toes to kiss him. “Don’t worry babe, you can have all the sexy photos your little heart desires.”

"Everything turns you on, babe," Lyddie teased, giving her a smack and embracing her tightly from behind. "That's my favourite thing about you."

“Oh, that’s your favourite thing, huh?” she laughed, turning to embrace her fiancé, nearly losing her balance. “Pretty sure everything turns you on too."

"That's why we work so well," Lydia smiled, feeling the boys' eyes on them. "And not eeeeverything turns me on, just the things that usually turn people off."

“True,” Winnie laughed. “We’re perfect together.”

Letting go, she bent to get dressed as well. “Look at that sunset, though. God, it’s beautiful here.”

"Yeah, it really is..."

Win watched the sun dip below the horizon before turning back to the others with a soft smile. “Shall we head home, then?”

"Yeah, let's go, babe," Lyddie kissed the top of her head, taking her hand on the way back to the avenue.

Tag List: @elliethesuperfruitlover @firstpersonnarrator @holidayspirits

#misfits #misfits nathan #misfits fanfic #timeline anomaly verse #otp: green apple lollipop #nathan young #nathan young x oc #fic collab

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ziracona · 3 years ago

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T2 was okay and it could have been really good—had some real moments. But it needed more script iterations, and it was too goofy. Goofy is fine in general, but Terminator works best as a sci-fi action-drama-horror mesh. That’s the peak atmosphere. Also just, they gave their new Terminator scary powers to keep him relevant, but there’s just...no way to really make anyone on screen look like a threat to Arnold Schwarzenegger you know? And they never overcame that and it throws off the whole underdog atmosphere. He just. Wasn’t scary. Not when he was trying to kill heckin Arnold the brick house.

I’m not gonna talk about T3 bc I feel like I don’t need to and I think I have a lot of support for that in the fandom, and I’m not gonna talk any Genysis bc no one ever should, and I know I have support there.

Dark Fate was fine, but I felt like they really didn’t have to kill off their Kyle expy like at this point the surprising thing and interesting one would be /not/ to kill him. That role has died in /every/ other film. Like we get it. But plot rehashes are only good if you have some kind of spin. Mostly though I just...would have liked T800 man’s personality in another context but you couldn’t ever sell me on him after watching him gun down a 10 year old in the open. Like what, he found a soul by being...bored? If you want to convince me of fundamental change in a person, you /gotta/ motivate it better. Show me. Don’t tell me and expect me to take your word. And there just wasn’t enough meet in some spots. I wanted more firm lore and a little less action. Like I’m not even a science-heavy leaning sci-fi fan but it still wasn’t enough. I liked it more than most of the others but it just wasn’t quite...meaty enough. Sarah still a queen. But T800 man didn’t sell and that was a real weak spot, and so was expecting us and Sarah to just...like and forgive him bc he had accrued a family. But also like. I enjoyed having a new protag, but feeling like so much, no, /all/ of the work and suffering of everyone in other Terminator films was for nothing bc it’s not even Skynet anymore it’s some other robots?? It kind just...didn’t really work. It makes everything more hollow like it’s not even Terminator anymore there’s no more Terminators. They should have just had it be Skynet but a different rebel leader, or more. Sarah goes on to mentor Dani instead since John is dead, /something/ to make it more the same franchise and not so hollow. Or if it’s gonna be gutted, go all the way and let us feel that, don’t blip it as a plot point once and keep rolling. There’s decades of character attachment for fans; either make that matter, or make it mourned because it’s dead. Don’t skim it and make it cheap. Also on a meta level it was kind of weird how they handled time travel compared to the norm for the franchise but I’m not going into that.

BUT. The Terminator? A cinematic classic. It’s just...such a good film. The characters work is solid the whole movie, and Reese and Sarah are both truly excellent protagonists also given ample time to explore and exhibit that. There’s so much you get in moments that show tiny things about them. The way Sarah handles getting canceled on and goofing with Ginger, her having a pet iguana she loves to cuddle, talking to the statue at work? And she’s smart and normal (I mean normal in a very complimentary way). Kyle is introduced almost immediately running from the cops, but even in the middle of a chase scene, he’s stealing clothes in a mall while evading flashlights, and little things like hopping while he runs to check shoe sizes give you so much right away. He’s clearly out of his depth but he’s smart and methodical and he holes up in a car he hotwires and has a ptsd moment waking up from a dream because of some heavy construction machinery. You don’t have him say much about himself at all but you get him taking a second to be nice to the kids and guard dog on his way back before a T800 attacks. Even though if you’re watching it classic, you have no spoken goal for Reese and all you know is he’s armed and /also/ looking for Sarah, like the man who has killed three people already is, you kind of aren’t very scared of him by the time he’s creepily following her into a night club. That scene is iconic too damn. Anyway. Her reactions to everything are so great. Only film I ever saw where I 100% felt the person on screen was reacting like anyone would to almost being killed and then getting kidnap-saved by some other guy claiming to be from the future like I’d bite him too, but you know, I’d also be pretty happy he saved me and also decide he was crazy and not like, dangerous, and try to keep the cops from killing him. It’s so cute he thinks anyone is going to believe him like hang in there Kyle baby, king. Love as soon as the Terminator hits the police station, he breaks out and goes to find Sarah, and she’s immediately like ‘so fuck this actually’ and looking for him too. The deleted scene in the motel woods. The slow character build. Him falling in love with her because of the picture where she always looked a little sad and he wondered what she was thinking about and you don’t find out till the last scene it’s him she was thinking about in that picture. A family can be two complete trauma disasters making pipe bombs in a motel. The top 5 cinema shots moment where you think they won and they think they won and they’re both injured and stagger to each other and collapse laughing and crying and hugging and it holds for like ten seconds before that fucking thing gets up and you see the rubble in the fire shift and Kyle sees it first. And the hopelessness and despair. Sarah just screaming no in rage because it’s so unfair. The little scaffolding fight?? Kyle doing what he does? Sarah winning with a broken leg? The picture? The heartbreak? A work of art.

Also just. They’re both attractive but like, they are not remotely airbrushed Hollywood pretty. Kyle’s got that big scar on his lip and they’re both sweaty and bloody and dirty and gross the whole film??? God yeah.

Terminator Salvation? Also a classic. You have a film not about the core cast exactly, but it’s very ensemble. You get early days war. And it’s from the very open a solid narrative about second chances and what it means to be human and they really do explore that the whole runtime. Markus dies and comes back more confused than you are in the apocalypse. Baby Reese is absolutely perfect. You get formerly executed for murder Markus somehow adopting like 20 year old Reese and 13 year old kid Star and they’re amazing. Rebellion drama, lore reveals. Reese’s devout faith in the cause and how fast he looks up to Markus and starts learning and Markus is like :[ but then he’s like ... :] because he god assigned two family members now. The tag team fights—how incredibly talented Star is. Guilt trip on a look to dropping cars, she’s super effective. Tbh Markus is just O_O to >:-[ the whole movie as soon as Reese and Star are taken and I feel it. You’ve got a guy who was killed for straying too far from human, come back as a machine, but he doesn’t know it, wondering if he deserves another chance and if he can change, and it’s really neat the way it unfolds. Even after losing so many friends to Terminators that look human, Blair refuses to believe he isn’t a human even if he’s also a machine and risks her life to save him, when they barely know each other. Markus getting like, tortured by the rebels, and still choosing to help them and be who he has decided he wants to be this time, even towards John. Even with better alternatives. And you have Star never having a moment of doubt, or Reese, and him getting to save them both, and them trying to help the other humans in line for extermination before he arrives. The hand hold with Star when his hands just metal. And he decides to die for someone he doesn’t even /like/ and who has personally hurt him a lot of times, because he knows the rebels need him to win. Anyway death row to death row but completely different people in the same body facing that same death differently are amazing if done well (see TWDG I mean ow) and it was a very simple core theme to latch to and very enjoyable executed and it got snubbed by fans when it’s the best sequel Terminator ever had.

#thus concludes my spoiler heavy rant for why Terminator Salvation and The Terminator are the best two Terminator films #the terminator #terminator salvation #ramblings #spoilers #twdg spoilers #long post #sorry I had no idea how long this was

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