#i love my big friend godzilla so much

[papil0nglegs]

Friday night night funkin dating hcs!!

Warnings: Some nsfw stuff but nothing too far, boob grabbing, bra stealing, nudes but not rlly

A/n: I HAVE ANOTHER OBSESSION UGHHH, anyways!! I’m so happy the fandom is reviving bc of the new update ahh. Also I didn’t rlly know what to put for bc so apologies if you wanted more of him :(

Keith (bf):

He’s such a flower sniffer istg

He’s like a rosy cheeked sweetheart who brings you heart chocolate every time he visits you

No but actually he’s wrapped around your fingers, it’s scary.

His fav dates are you and him alone at his house watching Godzilla movies and laying his head against your stomach while you play with his hair

AND YOU WEAR HIS HAT

Sometimes you’ll send a pic of you in his boxers that he left at your house just to tease him

But whenever he feels silly (which is all the time) he’ll send a picture of him in your bra for funsies

“I can do that too :D”

“0_•”

Keith is such a nerd, playing video games with him is your go to date

You guys would always match, like whenever you two play Mario kart he’d be toad and you’d be toadette

You hype him up sm, esp when playing Fortnite 😭

Y’all know that one Tik tok audio that goes

“Yeah get his ass FUCKING PUSSY TRY THE FUCK AGAIN BITCH, TRY THE FUCK AGAIII”

You do that, and it scares him.

His fav activity? Pot + cartoons.

You guys are the silliest couples ever. Laughing at SpongeBob with fog all over the room until your ribs start to hurt.

“Babes.. do you think that like-Starfires armpits are also pink?”

“…woah”

Pico:

Now when pico first starting dating you he thought you were just another chick to stuff his wiener in.

But soon enough, you guys were both wrapped around each others finger.

He’d kill for you tbh

Pico canonically has abs, so he likes it whenever he’s chilling with you and you just poke/rub them. He thinks it’s the cutest AND hottest shit ever

This man cannot get enough of your boobies, whenever he’s on his phone he’d have his arm around you and casually use your boob as a stress ball.

Sometimes he’ll just steal your bras whenever you’re showering or changing, just so that he can get a fresh look at ‘his girls’ (that’s what he calls them)

“Pico!! Have you seen my bra?”

“Hm? Na babe, I’m js here.”

This sly fuckin ginger

Most of his dates consist of going to his fav burger joint or sleeping over at each others houses

He esp loves the second one cuz he gets to makeout with you, prob his fav thing to do in this life.

Whenever you guys leave any function, like ever, he’ll yell out your ship name as he leaves the room 😭

“Pi-y/n, OUT”

“Babe you don’t have to do that every time we leave..”

Also his dad (Tankmen) loves embarrassing him in front of you.

(Tankmen) “Yeah so Pico kept pissing himself in the bed until 7th grade, shit had me concerned but turns out it was just normal puberty shit.”

(You)“Oh..”

“Dad I’m gonna kill you.”

Lmao he did eventually

Darnell

Darnell has such a big ego on being a ‘cool tough guy’, but when it comes to you it entirely washes away

It embarrasses him whenever he’s around his friends and you come over and start smooching him all over his face, getting lipgloss/lipstick all over him

“Mwah mwah mwah!!”

“B-baby. Babe, you’re ruining my aura.”

But he loves showing you off, you’re like his biggest flex. Whenever he hangs with his friends he always shows pictures of you like you’re his newborn

“Yeah so this is when we went to the skate park the other week and-“

“Dude. This is like the 5th picture you’ve shown me of them.”

Once for Valentine’s Day, he surprised you by spray painting an entire wall of you smooching him. (But like in the style of the fnf stickers they sell)

You were in such awe, you almost cried.

He was so embarrassed to show you at first, but when he saw how much you loved it he was so relieved

You and Nene are such besties

Like, squealing while talking about boys besties

“HII Y/N!!! :33”

“OMG HEY NENE!! ^^”

So when she found out you had a crush on Darnell, she was so excited

You guys became delusional abt him together, like

“NENE TODAY DARNELL LOOKED AT ME”

“STOPP HE WANTS YOU SO BADD”

“IKR”

O and your weapon (cuz everyone in picos friendgroup has one) is a broken glass bottle of whatever your fav drink is

Sometimes you’ll throw in a burning rag in there to make a Molotov cocktail

Also I hc that Darnell has thick silver rings and you love how they feel against your neck whenever you guys are smooching.

He lets you wear them at times but they always slip off because our boy has some THICK fingers.

[teojira]

Just a thought! Godzilla who tolerates human and mothera who absolutely adores the human and wants to keep it like a little pet is so funny to me

[I want a baby. We are two titans.] [Headcanons]

Summary: Mothra has a soft spot for you and Gojira takes it upon himself to see you, a human. He will not fall victim to your charms.

Word count: 700+

Pronouns: Gender neutral!

Warnings: None that I can possibly think of! Do lmk if I need to though!

A/N: First Goji and Mothra request!! Thank you so much!! I hope these are okay anon! Kinda made it to where it's the set up lore for this request bc that's where my brain took me lmao.

You're not particularly of note, you're nothing, sorry to say it special. No secret heritage, no secret connection to Monarch before meeting the moth titan, but when you find yourself face to face with her, you feel calm and safe.

She's radiating warmth and comfort and quietly as she can squeaks at you, trying to bid you closer to her.

A bad idea really, extremely bad idea but she just looks so soft and loving, so you walk up to her and gently rest a hand on her head, running your fingers through her fuzz.

It's clear She's very sweet on you, she can't always be by your side, having to do her duties as the queen of monsters but she will visit, she also somehow knows where you are at all times.

After the first encounter, Monarch realized they could use you to help locate her so you now have a decent cushy life as the Mothra whisperer among the two twins, the Ziyis.

Dr. Chen is absolutely fascinated to hear about your connection to Mothra, she's one of your main friends in the company who comes to visit you often.

Mothra never lingers for long, but she comes by to visit and rests with you awhile, allowing you to pet and climb on her if you wish, though she makes panicked noises if you accidental stumble, she doesn't really have alot of arm to catch you so girl is NERVOUS.

You're her little human, she'd hate to see you get hurt, regardless if she knows she can fix it.

Goji knows where Mothra is going, to see a human, and he's very against, trying to growl and grunt his point of view to Mothra, but she will have none of it. He rolls his eyes and thumps his tail, trying to emphasize that it is a bad idea and it'll get her hurt.

Mothra has never listened to a man and will not do so now, so she continues her visits with you, coming to him smelling of human.

At this point, he's gonna come see you himself, Mothra is beautiful, caring and a more peaceful titan.

Goji is not, which is why he has no issues with breaching the water next to the Monarch base and coming to find you.

He does take SOME care to not needlessly destroy everything around him, staying in the water and just standing there menacingly as fuck, everyone freaks the fuck out until Mothra follows him, resting on his back, her appendages wrapped gently on Gojis scales.

That's when they figure to send you out, neither Kaiju are attacking, but they know very clearly of Mothra's soft spot for you, so it's a insurance that she'd step in against her husband if he goes rouge.

So they send you out, you humming a village song that Dr.Chen taught you, alerting Mothra of your presence.

She flaps her wings excitedly, leaving her spot on Goji to get to you, her wings enclose the two of you, her way of giving you a hug.

Goji grumbles but gets closer, moving to lay his chest on the ground so he can get a good look at you.

You're so, squishy looking, kinda stupid looking as well, with your big eyes trained on him in fear.

He brings his snout closer, his breath making your hair blow around your face.

Mothra let's out a noise, probably a warning to her King to not do anything stupid.

You can see his visibly roll his fucking eyes at her and then he trains his eyes on yours, directly making eye contact.

He then exhales, the gust of wind knocking you over from the force, he laughs. He honest to god LAUGHS AT YOU.

You can't help but laugh back, from nerves and the fact that he seems so eerily human in this instant.

Mothra slaps him with one of her arms, shaking her head at him, speaking in a language you're sure only exists between them.

Goji uses the tip of his tail to give you something to prop yourself up against, you didn't scream of fear, he hasn't been shot at yet, he figures you're alright, for a human.

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

[donutwatches]

MHA Movie 1- Two Heroes (Two Gay Dads) - part 1/3

I said I wasn't going to make full posts about the movie, because it will take too much overwhelming work. But, well...you know me, I can't help myself.

My first thought is, why did no one tell me how gay this movie is? It can't possibly just be me seeing this vision through rainbow tinted sunglasses.

Hello, handsome old 'friend' from college. So the movie opens with gorgeous bigger budget animation, and my eyes were drinking it in. The same way that Dave's eyes are drinking in the sight of his lover hero shining in the sun.

This can only be described as the beginning of a beautiful gay love story. The whole movie is a romance between these two, that is occasionally interrupted by the class 1A and some random villains, and I can not be convinced otherwise.

Oh my god, shut up! All might invited Deku on a plus-one trip with him, that is so precious! The way Midoriya is basically fishing for confirmation that All Might sees him as family is so sweet.

They are father and son for real. I refuse to get teary eyed this early in the movie.

Hey guys, new Queen just dropped, and she calls All Might UNCLE. Just like the adopted daughter of a single gay man might call her Dad's 'partner'. If you know what I mean.

"SOMEONE YOU LOVE, PAPA." - I could not make this sh!t up. This is not fan fiction, people, this is the real deal.

And are those feeling one sided? Hell no they are not, Dave's got our big buff hero, "SHAKING WITH EMOTION".

NOT IN PUBLIC! Melissa looks so pleased, lol, the girl set this up! I can't believe the plot of this movie is single gay father's daughter noticed her Dad was lonely, so she staged a reunion with his old college days flame. This is incredible.

They are going to be such a happy family. <3 Midoriya can use all of the Dad's he can get.

No one told me motherfking GODZILLA made a cameo in this movie. The mere presence of Godzilla makes any movie an instant 10/10. The implication that Godzilla is a guy with a quirk is wild.

Why did they frame this like the girls caught Deku red-handed having an affair? This cracked me up.

Is it gay to stare longingly at picture of your old college buddy on your phone? Is it gay to do that when said buddy was just in the same room talking to you not .5 seconds ago?

Guys, guys, guys...is it gay for the picture on your phone to trigger a flashback of the one time your buddy's shirt fell off, and you checked out his nipples?

Part 2 is here

Masterlist

TAGLIST

@setfiretotheshadows, @bicheetopuff, @hyperfixations-and-cringe

@champion-prism, @blackaquokat, @jessiedead, @granny-griffin

[duckieduccss]

✨Kaiju Siblings!!✨

Did something small & simple just to take things easy & also while having fun. I often enjoy drawing these two interacting with each other. At least in my version of things, they are in fact siblings. They both share a lot of things together & of course are the future heir to Godzilla’s name & status. However, each are very different in their personalities. At least how they treat & do things:

Junior is the more curious outgoing type. She loves meeting new friends & generally seeing/learning new things. More so, she’s the one to start conversations & ask a lot of questions. To her, she likes getting to know others better (for that reason she has a lot of friends). Junior can also even be more confrontational whenever necessary to be. Putting her skills as a kaiju to the test & being able to stand herself strong. She’s not afraid to intimidate (she can be pretty brutal with downsizing the other if deserved (I’ll provide an example later ^^:). But for the most part, she’s very sweet & overall very adorable in how she does certain things (making her more serious moments more unexpected lol)

Minilla on the other hand is very awkward & less outgoing like his sister (pretty much the opposite; an actual introvert). He always wants to prove that he can be just as strong & be a great kaiju like their dad. But in the end, he lets fear overcome him or suddenly the thoughts of failing already overwhelm him into thinking it would happen. Along with the thing that he doesnt exactly like confrontation or being outed as much. If anything, he prefers if all could get along peacefully (which isnt anything easy in the kaiju world. But however, he still wants to work on being more confident so he often looks up to others he sees as role models. Minilla’s own role models happen to be: Godzilla of course, Ultraman (he happens to be Ultraman’s biggest fan actually), & even his own sister. He’s still very much going at it. No matter how many times he fails, he still keeps going. Shows that he’s got a very strong will & pretty sure he’d be great as the next Godzilla

Junior very much deeply loves her own older brother (Minilla’s the oldest & Junior’s the youngest btw). She understands his struggle more than anyone, for that reason she’s more than willing to helping him out. She’s quite literally his biggest supporter & always brings to his attention whenever he did something well or showed improvement. As a matter of fact, Minilla has their own burst of celebration whenever they’re able to successfully accomplish something (think of it as a lil happy dance he does). She hugs him as a reward as a good job & despite her being younger than him, she has the big heart to care after him too (as a way to show her love). Minilla always loves watching Ultraman whenever on tv (in this universe, Ultraman both doubles as a celebrity superstar & actual hero for both the humans & kaiju; well, more of just a celebrity to the kaiju at least) & taking inspiration from his favorite hero. That way to boost his motivation & even getting ideas on how to be a more powerful kaiju. Minilla does in fact have to deal with Gabara in this version too. Despite of how much Gabara has made him feel afraid from being bullied by him, Minilla’s ready to fight back thanks to the help from others with him

Well those were just some of my own thoughts. I also gave them some outfits that i felt matched perfectly with their described personalities ^^

[If there’s anything specific you guys would like to know about my headcanons, feel free to lemme know :D ]

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: Sam is abducted by a family of cannibalistic hillbillies while he, Dean, and reader are investigating several decades' worth of missing people.

Warnings: Cannon violence, talk of kidnapping and crime, cannibals, cursing, detailed blood talk, again all cannon violence and so forth. Dean and reader bickering like friends or idiots in love you decide 😊

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 , @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn , @crazyunsexycool , @onlyangel-444 , @seninjakitey , @mystic-mara , @mxltifxndom , @stilesxreid , @chaotic-luvrs , @tiggytaylor

Word Count: 10,711

The Benders

(Masterlist, Previous Ch, Next Ch)

“I know you’re just doing your job, but the police have been here all week already. I don’t see why we have to go through this again. The more he tells the story, the more he believes it’s true,” Mrs.McKay points out, positioning herself closer to her son. Even in the dark living room, the curtains closed to block the bright sun, they looked alike, with similar big brown eyes and dark brown hair.

“Mrs.McKay, we know you spoke with the local authorities,” Sam acknowledges, looking quite intimidating in his Sheriff get-up, the large brown jacket adding to it all. I’m glad I don’t have to be stuffed into those jackets, they don’t look super comfortable or flexible, and having to wear a khaki button-down was restricting enough. Somehow button-downs always wind up being tight for me in the chest area, this time no different. “But, uh, this seems like a matter for the state police, so….” Dean adds.

“It’s okay if it sounds crazy, we’d rather get the full story,” I finish. The young boy looks at his mother for approval before answering, “I was up late, watching TV. When I heard this weird noise.”

“What did it sound like?” Sam asks.

“It sounded like…” he hesitates for a moment, either scared or worried we won’t believe him, “a monster.” His mother rolls her eyes and purses her lips, crossing her arms across her chest she says, “Tell the officers what you were watching on TV.”

“Godzilla Vs. Mothra,” Evan answers. A wide, beaming smile places itself on Dean’s face, “That’s my favorite Godzilla movie,” he excitedly tells the kid, “It’s so much better than the original, huh?” He’s so cute when he gets all excited like this.

“Totally,” Evan nods, his eyes wide in that sweet childish way. “Yeah,” Dean nods to Sam, “He likes the remake.” A small laugh escapes my lips, of course he would take any chance he could get to poke fun at his brother. “Yuck!” Evan exclaims, causing me to laugh more. Sam glares at his brother, clearing his voice he gets us back on track, “Evan, did you see what this thing was?”

“No. But I saw it grab Mr.Jenkins. It pulled him underneath the car,” he answers, looking a little scared again. “Then what?” Sam pushes.

“It took him away. I heard the monster leaving. It made this really scary sound.”

“What did it sound like?” I ask carefully.

“Like this…whining growl,” he answers and I make a mental note.

Sam nods, “Thanks for your time.”

I sip my Shirly Temple, a perfect mix of cherry syrup and soda. Meanwhile, Sam sips a beer before me, and Dean plays darts just behind me. Surprisingly he didn’t really touch his beer, I figured by now he would be on his second, but no he was just a little more than halfway done with his first. I wonder if it has to do with our conversation the other day, not that I didn’t trust him when he drank. I hope he knew that. I just didn’t like drinking, and bars weren’t my favorite place but as long as I was with others then I was fine.

I push my hair behind my ears and with it push those thoughts out of my head, “Okay, so, local police haven’t ruled out foul play because there were signs of a struggle,” I inform, looking down at the research papers that Sam had circling him.

“Well, they could be right, it could just be a kidnapping. Maybe this isn’t our kind of gig,” Dean says, another dart swooshing past.

“Yeah, maybe not. Except for this–” Sam points out, rearranging the papers so that he could push his Dad's journal closer to me and subsequently Dean, “Dad marked this area.” Dean looms closer, standing right behind my chair with his hands on the back of it; his hands dangerously close to my exposed arms or more specifically, shoulders. It isn’t a big deal I remind myself, it was perfectly normal in fact. I took off my cardigan because it had gotten warm in here so naturally with the short-sleeved dress I was wearing my arms were exposed.

He leans forward slightly, peering at the book from above my head, his body heat radiating around me. “Possible hunting grounds of a phantom attacker,” Sam continues.

“Why would he even do that?” Dean asks.

“Well, he found a lot of local folklore about a dark figure that comes at night,” Sam explains, “Grabs people, then vanishes. He found this too–” he turns to a different page, “this county has more missing persons per capita than anywhere else in the state.”

“Alright, that’s weird. But if that’s the case how aren’t there more leads on any of these especially if there’s a pattern?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Sam answers truthfully.

“Don’t phantom attackers usually snatch people from their beds? Jenkins was taken from a parking lot,” Dean points out.

“Well, there are all kinds. You know, Spring Heeled Jacks, Phantom Gassers,” Sam reminds, “They take people anywhere, anytime. Look, I don’t know if this is our kind of gig either.”

“Yeah, you’re right, we should ask around more tomorrow,” Dean plans.

“Right,” Sam says as he pulls out his brown leather wallet, “I saw a motel about five miles back.”

“Whoa, whoa, easy,” Dean says, holding his hands up, “Let’s have another round.”

“We should get an early start,” Sam counters, placing a twenty on the table.

“You’re very responsible,” I point out.

“Someone has to be,” he smirks, sassy as always.

“Yeah, you really know how to have fun, don’t you, Grandma?” Dean remarks. I turn around in my seat to peer up at Dean, he meets my eyes looking down at me, “I’m pretty sure you could still have fun at a motel,” I say, confused. I mean motels were fun, sort of, as long as there were no bed bugs and it was like a game of ‘how poorly designed will this be!’ Dean cocks an eyebrow, a devilish smile on his face, “‘That so?” he eyes me, teasing me.

The implications of my sentence hit me…I laugh nervously, “No...I mean…cause, like, I didn’t me…I mean–” I stammer but his smile only widens. I whip my head towards Sam for help but he’s also smiling, “You’re on your own with this one,” he shrugs. I turn back, slowly, to Dean to find him still staring, “You know what I meant” I say.

“Do I?” he counters. My face feels all warm, I hear Sam’s chair move and the collecting of papers. He was leaving me! My nervous laughter continues as I try to come up with something but it’s broken letters that leave my mouth instead, I stand up abruptly, tugging down the skirt of my dress as I do so, “I’m gonna go…”

He removes his hands from my chair, and I grab my cardigan, throwing the soft material on. I meet his gaze again but this time he’s just smiling softly. “Wait for me, sweetheart, gotta take a leak,” he says, finished with his teasing. “Ok,” I answer, and he heads to the back of the bar. If I hadn’t embarrassed myself I would have commented on his gross choice of words, but I did so instead I down the rest of my sweet drink.

Hardly two minutes later Dean is back, he throws his jacket on and swings an arm around my shoulder pulling me into his side as we head to the front, “So, about that motel…” he tries to continue his teasing.

“Dean!” I groan, “Stop, alright I get it was funny, whatever, it’s over now.” He laughs, swinging open the door for me. I roll my eyes, he was never going to let this down.

The chill Minnesota air cools down my warm cheeks as I exit the bar, Dean following behind, “No, no, I think you were on to something, sweetheart,” he muses and I can hear that stupid smile on his face. I turn around swiftly, facing him, “I am going to beat you up,” I threaten despite the smile on my face. His stupid, cute, smile drops all of a sudden, his eyes somewhere over my shoulder. I frown, “What?”

He doesn’t answer, his eyes focused behind me, he moves around me and I spin around immediately noticing the cause of his changed demeanor. There’s no Sam. He’s not by the car at all, and if he went back into the bar we would have seen him. I follow Dean to the Impala, my tall boots clicking against the asphalt, he picks up something from the roof holding up his Dad’s journal which Sam had in his possession when he left. That’s not good.

I pull my phone out of my cardigan pocket, immediately scrolling down to Sam’s contact. Dean opens the car door, peering inside before shutting it and shaking his head. I click call, waiting impatiently with the phone to my ear, it rings a couple of times before going to voicemail. “Frick,” I redial his number and this time it goes straight to voicemail, was it shut off? Why would he shut it off?

I shake my head at Dean, this was bad.

Dean moves away from the car asking a drunk couple by the bar, but they have no answer. I call his phone again as if this time would be different, but it isn’t.

“Sam!” Dean suddenly yells, frantically calling for his brother. “Sammy!”

“So, what can we do for you, Officer Washington and Officer Greene?,” Deputy Kathleen asks, looking at our fake IDs. She didn’t seem so amused as she looked at us with those piercing grey eyes. “We’re working a missing persons,” Dean answers, worry still etched on his face.

“I didn’t know the Jenkins case was being covered by the state police,” she acknowledges, perhaps growing suspicious.

“No, we’re here about another missing person. ‘Could be related though,” I reply. Dean adding, “It’s my cousin. We were havin’ a few drinks last night at this bar down by the highway. And I haven’t seen him since.”

“Does your cousin have a drinking problem?” she asks logically.

“Sam?” he scoffs, “Two beers and he’s doin’ karaoke.”

“He wasn’t drunk. And the time frame in which he was left alone was far too short for any wanderin’ off, if by chance he was intoxicated more than my partner here witnessed,” I inform, adding on. Dean looks at me with a little surprise, as if I wasn't capable of being serious and professional which was stupid because I knew more about criminology than he did and as of right now we had to look at this in that frame of light. Kathleen nods, moving to her computer and turning it halfway so that we could see too, “Alright. What’s his name?”

“Winchester. Sam Winchester,” Dean answers.

“Like the rifle?” she asks somewhere between skepticism and amusement. “Like the rifle,” he confirms.

She types away, pulling up his police record, and she scans the file before clicking on Dean’s file (thank god there were no pictures with it). “Samuel Winchester, so, you know that his brother, Dean Winchester, died in St. Louis. And, uh, was suspected of murder.”

Memories of that hunt creep into the back of my mind. The slimy remains of its shedding, his hands on my neck, losing my abilities to iron…Dean’s awkward laugh knocks me out of my thoughts, “Yeah, Dean. Kind of the black sheep of the family…Handsome, though.” I try hard not to throw a look at him, even now he still has to be cocky. “Uh-huh,” she hums, not amused. She types something else in, bringing up more results on the computer, “Well, he’s not showing up in any current field reports.”

“Oh, I already have a lead. I saw a surveillance camera by the highway,” Dean informs.

“Uh-huh, she hums, “The county traffic cam?”

“Right. Yeah. I’m thinking the camera picked up whatever took him…or, whoever” he corrects with a smile.

“Well, I have access to the traffic cam footage down at the county works department, but—well, anyhow, let’s do this the right way,” she goes to a filing cabinet and pulls out some paperwork, “Why don’t you fill out a missing persons report and sit tight over here,” she hands Dean a clipboard. “Officer, look, uh, he’s family. I kind of–I kind of look out for the kid. You gotta let us go with you,” he reasons.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” she answers.

“Sam’s my responsibility. And he’s comin’ back. I’m bringin’ him back,” he says again, this time more demanding than pleading. But she shakes her head, “I’m sorry” she repeats moving away from us.

“The first 72 hours of a missing person's case is the most important!” I call out and she stops in her tracks, “We know Sam didn’t just run off, so we can eliminate the statistic that in 48 hours he will show up,” but still she doesn’t turn. “In this case, 72 hours would be lucky, you know considering the fact this county has had no leads and has yet to find a single person related to the serial kidnapping going on,” she turns and stares at me with a frown.

“So for all of our sakes and our jobs, let’s say a safe 48,” I continue, “I’m sure you’re well aware that the second you go over that time the chances of you finding the person, let alone alive, is extraordinarily low. It is currently,” I look at the clock on the wall, “9:36 am,” I meet her eyes again, “So in less than 30 minutes we will be down 13 hours. Now I don’t think I have to do the math for you to understand how badly you are screwed,” I challenge, “Now, how long do you think you have before the feds get involved? ‘Cause I’m sure that will look just great for you.” I know I’m being harsh but I’m also being entirely serious.

She sighs, nodding, “Okay.”

Dean picks at his nailbeds as we wait on a bench across the street from the County’s Work Department. The bright sun shines down on us making his dirty blonde hair glow. I place a hand over his, he needs to break this habit, “We’ll find him,” I say softly. He shakes his head, “You said it yourself, every minute that goes by the chances of finding him–”

“But we’ll find him,” I cut him off. Maybe being positive about this wasn’t the most logical thing, we don’t know how big of a lead we have yet and if it’s nothing then we really are screwed. I know the odds are not in our favor, but to remind him of that wouldn’t help either.

“Greg, Kayla,” Kathleen says from behind, using our fake first names. We turn to her, getting up from the bench we were waiting on, “I think we’ve got something,” she hands us printouts of traffic cameras. “These traffic cameras take an image every three seconds. As part of the Amber Alert program,” she explains, “These images were all taken around the time that your cousin, Sam, disappeared.” But it's just images of a dark road with no one on it but the soft light of street lamps illuminating the pavement.

“This really isn’t what we’re looking for,” Dean voices.

“Just wait, wait—next one,” she insists. He turns to the next image, tilting it to show me the image of a rusty run-down truck driving down the road, “This one was taken right after Sam left the bar. Look at the back end of that thing. Now, look at the plates.” He turns the page again, this time the image is a close-up of the back of the truck or more specifically the not rusty or old license plate. “Oh, the plates look new. It’s probably stolen,” Dean points out, confirming my thoughts.

“So, whoever’s driving that rust bucket must be involved,” she adds and I'm ever so glad this lead was something. Maybe we could let other officers know to be on the lookout for it.

Suddenly there’s the horrible noise of a loud grumbling and whining engine passing by, I cringe at the screeching noise, looking up to find a beat-up van stopped at a red light. “Hear that engine?” Dean asks.

“Unfortunately,” I mumble, trying to resist the urge to cover my ears. He looks at me, meeting my eyes, “Kind of a whining growl, isn’t it?”

My lips part. He was right. He didn’t need to say any more for me to understand exactly what he meant, it’s what Evan heard. And if we assume that the rusty truck on the cameras is involved, they might even make a similar noise considering they're just about the same on the beat-up level.

The squad car rolls down the highway, Kathleen in the driver's seat pointing to a passing traffic camera, “Okay, the next traffic cam is fifty miles from here, and the pickup didn’t pass that one, so…”

“So, it must’ve pulled off somewhere,” Dean finishes her sentence, adding, “I didn’t see any other roads here.”

“Well, a lot of these backwoods properties have their own private roads,” Kathleen points out. I sigh, “That’s not very helpful,” now we have to figure out how to narrow it down with no other information. Dean grumbles something, looking out his window while I keep my eyes trained out the windshield trying to think of our next move.

Kathleen clicks something on the little tablet on a stand, in the corner of my eye I see her look at us strangely. I drop my eyes to the tablet, picking up on enough words to know it was trouble for us, I unbuckle myself swiftly, thanking my past self for choosing to sit in the middle and that this was a squad car meaning there wasn't the gate between the back and front. I lean forward my hips hitting the end of the center console as I practically weasel myself between the passenger and driver seats, my hands flat on the front of the console. My hair curtains my face but even so I can feel both their gaze on me, just like I wanted.

I don't know how much she was able to read the document but it doesn’t matter now as I carefully lift my pointer finger, hands still flat on the console, towards the tablet letting just a little spark of energy leave my finger and interfere with its programming. I push my hair out of my face, her eyes drop to my chest which was practically pushed out and perfectly visible in this position, I laugh lightly, “Sorry, I thought I saw something.”

I lean back, sitting on the edge of my seat putting my arms on the end of the console near me but close enough that it frames my boobs perfectly. Her eyes had been following my movement back through the rearview mirror, even girls were guilty of staring. Her eyes finally drag up to my face and I smile sweetly at her in the mirror, tilting my head a little for extra measure, her eyes drop down again before she blinks looking away from the mirror. She blinks again shaking her head as if it would shake the image away, “Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull but I ran your badge numbers. It’s routine when we’re working a case with state police. For accounting purposes and what have you.”

I curse internally, so much for a distraction. “And, um,” she continues, her eyes dropping to my chest just one more time, “uh, they just got back to me,” she pulls the car over to the side of the road, “It says here both of your badges were stolen. And there’s a picture of you both,” she turns the tablet. Dean looks at her shocked before dropping his eyes to the screen, his face falls with confusion as we both stare at the same thing, “It’s blank,” he points out and I have to hold back a smile at my work. She turns the tablet towards her, confused, she hits the thing and of course it doesn’t make a difference. “Well it was a picture of a heavier African American male and a (different ethnicity than you) female,” she explains instead.

“I lost some weight,” Dean chuckles awkwardly, “And I got that Michael Jackson skin disease.”

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, did he really think that was going to work?! Kathleen takes off her seatbelt, “Okay, would you both step out of the car, please?”

“Look, look, look,” Dean spews quickly halting her movement, “If you wanna arrest us, that’s fine. We’ll cooperate. But, first, please—let me find Sam.”

“I don’t even know who either of you are. Or if this Sam person is missing,” she counters.

“Look into my eyes and tell me if I’m lying about this,” he reasons. But she scoffs, “Identity theft? You’re impersonating officers.”

“How much do you care for your people? Those who live in the county?” I ask her. She doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look at me. “You can bring us in now, sure, but there’s still someone out there kidnapping and likely murdering people. And we are your best chance of finding them, we got you this far.” She purses her lips, shaking her head firmly.

“Look, here’s the thing,” Dean tries, “When we were young, I pretty much pulled him from a fire. And ever since then, I’ve felt responsible for him. Like it’s my job to keep him safe. I’m just afraid if we don’t find him fast—please,” his voice breaks, “He’s my family.” He was putting it all out there, he wasn’t the emotional type let alone with a new person like this, but he was more than worried

“I’m sorry. I have to take you in,” she says her gaze elsewhere. But then she frowns, sighing, her shoulders dropping in defeat, “After we find Sam Winchester.” She fastens her seatbelt and Dean looks at me confused but I just shrug, maybe it was better if we didn’t question it.

Despite Kathleen's clear distrust for us, she did suggest stopping for coffee before continuing our search. I cradle my to-go cup between my palms, the sun perfectly warm on my skin and the wind in perfect time with a cool breeze now and then. “Hey, Officer? Look, I don’t mean to press our luck,” Dean starts.

“Your luck is so pressed,” she retorts and her remark makes me laugh. She throws me a sharp glare and my smile drops, burring my face behind my cup as I take a sip.

“Right. I was wondering…why are you helping us out, anyway?” Dean asks, “Why don’t just lock us up”

Kathleen frowns, rounding the car as she answers, “My brother, Riley, disappeared three years ago. A lot like Sam. We searched for him, but…” she sighs, “nothing…I know what it’s like to feel responsible for someone.” The memories seem to flash in her pupils, her gray eyes hardening again. It was like seeing her in a different light, I think in the rush of this hunt we, or rather I, forgot that she was more than her badge she had her pains and losses like us. I make a mental note to apologize later for my previous harshness, I know I could’ve been kinder and that’s true with or without this newfound information.

“Come on,” she beckons, opening the driver's door, “Let’s keep at it.”

****

We drive close to the edge of the forest on the lookout for private roads, but tree after tall tree there is nothing. “Wait, wait, wait,” Dean suddenly says, “pull over here. Pull over.” And despite Kathleen's questioning gaze, she abides, pulling the car over and onto the soft grass beyond the shoulder.

We get out of the car, getting closer to the tree line. “You guys stay here, I’ll check it out,” Kathleen commands leading us into the forest.

“No way,” Dean scuffs.

“Seriously,” I reason, “You have no idea what you're walking into, you could use our help.” I mean did she really want to walk in alone?

“Hey,” she stops before us, preventing us from going further, “You’re civilians. And felons…I think. I’m not taking you with me.”

“You’re not goin’ without us,” Dean answers firmly. She stares at us as if to see how serious we are when finally she sighs, annoyed, “Alright. ‘You promise you won’t get involved? You’ll let me handle it?”

“Yeah, I promise,” Dean half shrugs. I nod, “Promise.”

“Shake on it,” she challenges, extending her hand. Dean and I raise our hands for a shake, but jokes on her for a promise to be serious you need to pinkie promise. She raises her other hand to extend to mine at the same time. She's firm with it when cold metal clinks against my wrist immediately followed by another clink against Dean’s. We’re cuffed to each other. I stare at our cuffed hands confused, the joke was supposed to be on her, not on us. And it certainly was on us. “Oh, come on,” Dean grumbles.

Holding on to the links between each cuff, she dragged us back to the car; no amount of dragging my feet was helping. She uncuffs me twisting both my hands behind my back, holding firmly with one hand as she puts the other cuff through the door handle pulling it back up and on my wrist; leaving Dean and I both trapped to the door handle. It was hard to be totally mad when it was quite clever. Now satisfied with her work, she walks back into the forest, “This is ridiculous. Kathleen, I really think you’re gonna need our help,” Dean calls after her.

She lifts a hand, beeping the car locked as she throws back a, “I’ll manage thank you.” I watch her leave until I can no longer see her past the tree line, I still can’t believe she tricked us. “That was an interesting show you put on before,” Dean says, leaning against the car door, apparently not too concerned about our current position. “What do you mean?” I ask, meeting his eyes.

“What do I mean?” he mocks, “Oh I don’t know maybe the,” he places his free hand below his chest lifting an invisible boob, “‘I thought I saw something’” he says in a girlish voice. I give him a pointed look and with my free hand I hit his chest, he drops his hand laughing. “One, I did not sound like that! Two, I was not doing that, and three! I was tryna save us, she had pulled up incriminating evidence and I figured I could distract her enough to buy us time.”

“Well she still got us,” he points out, green eyes dropping to our cuffed wrists.

“Yeah I know, it was more of an in-the-moment thing and it worked better in my head,” I reason.

“You got the distracting part right though,” he responds, his voice slightly lower. Maybe it was the stupid bickering or the fact he had teased me last night that brought up enough confidence to ask, “Are you insinuating you were looking too?”

His eyes snap up to me his cheeks looking warm, “What?! No, no, I wouldn’t…I–no.”

I smirk though my cheeks burn hotter than the sun and my heart is rapid against my ribcage, I open my mouth to say something clever when I hear the screeching of tires, “Never mind that” I say quietly instead. With my free hand, I hold the cuffs using very little energy to unlock them. I smile triumphantly, discarding the cuffs to the grass. “You’re lucky I don't just leave you here,” I point out.

He looks taken aback as he scuffs, “You wouldn’t.”

I purse my lips, “But I could’ve, I really could’ve.” He scuffs this time with more humor as he rolls his eyes, “Right. Let’s go.” He leads the way, walking quickly into the forested area.

We pass by wagon wheels strewn across the overgrown grass, followed by a rundown barn. Dean carefully opens the creaky barn door, exposing the dark inside to the shining sun. The barn reeks of sweat, and a combination of human and animal waste. The light creeps in behind us revealing at least four cages with thick metal bars, the cage wasn’t too wide and couldn’t have been more than three feet tall. Either way, it was solidifying the idea that this had to be the correct place because why would cages like these be in a rundown barn? And…there were figures inside said cages, very human figures. “Sam?” Dean calls out as we approach. Then they become more than dark figures, Sam smiles from his crouched-down position. “Are you hurt?” Dean asks even though he didn't look harmed, sweaty and dirty, yes, but not harmed.

“No,” Sam answers. Dean grins putting his hands on the bars, “Damn it's good to see you.” 

“How did you get out of the cuffs?” A now familiar voice asks. Dean and I seem to turn around at the same time, and I’m taken aback by Kathleen’s appearance. Her dark hair was down, cascading down her shoulders only making her blue eyes more entrancing, the khaki button down she wore as uniform was gone leaving her in a dirty white t-shirt, black splotches on it as well as some on her skin accompanied by a bloody bruise in the corner of her forehead. 

“Oh, she knows a trick or two,” Dean answers with a playful smile, “Speaking of which, you should do it again.”

I force a tight-lipped smile. “Right.”

I approach the door of the cage where Sam is held, the thick, heavy lock resting in my hands. The lock looks like it belongs in a medieval dungeon, its surface cold and unsettling. As I clutch it, an eerie emptiness spreads through me, a hollow sensation that chills me to the core. The memory of an iron bar around my neck flashes through my mind. I drop the lock as if it burned me, stumbling back. I rub my hands down the sides of my legs, trying to erase the lingering coldness. Gradually, the tightness in my chest eases, replaced by the familiar warmth of my abilities flowing through my veins. “What’s wrong?” Dean and Sam ask in unison, Dean’s hand suddenly gripping my upper arm.

“Iron,” I manage to get out around the cotton that seemed to fill my throat, eyes focusing on the barn floor. He curses under his breath before he steps in front of me, blocking me from the other's view. He squeezes my upper arm silently asking me to look at him, I meet his eyes the familiarity of him easing the leftover panic. “‘You okay?” he asks quietly enough for only us to hear. I nod and he doesn’t push me to confirm it verbally, he gives a quick nod in response and squeezes my arm once more before his hand drags down my arm before leaving altogether. Suddenly I miss his touch even though I know I shouldn’t. It’s a strange thing when your brain and heart want two different things. My mind pleads for logic, bringing an end to our casual touches to save my heart the grief. But then my heart wants nothing more to latch on to the feeling and exceed just a little more hope. He moves to the lock himself, studying it, “These are gonna be a bitch” 

“Well, there’s some kind of automatic control right there,” Sam points to a control panel on the other side of the barn. 

“Have you seen ‘em?” Dean asks.

“Yeah. Dude, they’re just people,” he answers voice dipped in disbelief. Our hunts rarely ended up being people; with something like this, they must be seriously messed up. “And they jumped you? Must be gettin’ a little rusty there, kiddo,” Dean remarks as he walks over to the control panel.

“I bet they’re rednecks, and that’s, like, an entirely different breed of human,” I comment.

“How do you know their rednecks?” Kathleen asks as if she’s still suspicious we’re in on this.

“I wouldn’t know anyone else who would keep captured people in a barn in the middle of nowhere, in cages no less. I feel like that has psychotic redneck all over it,” I explain like it’s obvious.

“What do they want?” Dean asks as he clicks different buttons on the panel.

“I don’t know,” Sam answers, “They let Jenkins go, but that was some sort of trap. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Well, that’s the point. You know, with our usual playmates, there’s rules, there’s patterns. But with people, they’re just crazy,” Dean points out.

“Well, there are certain patterns with humans too, especially criminals,” I explain, “They most likely get off on the thrill of the hunt. They let you go. Give you false hope, and get you running. But like you said it's a trap. You’re just prey to them, they might even have actual traps hidden around as extra measure though it doesn’t matter when they catch you anyway. It’s kind of a whole dehumanizing act too, cages and the hunting like you’re animals.”

All three pairs of eyes stare at me, “What? I thought that was evident,” I shrug defensively.

“...Anyways, ‘see anything else out there?” Sam asks.

Dean creeps open the other barn doors, different from where we came in from, “Uh, he has about a dozen junked cars hidden outback. ‘Plates from all over, so I’m thinkin’ when they take someone, they take their car, too.”

Kathleen scurries closer to the bars of her cage, hands clutching the bars, “Did you see a black Mustang out there? About ten years old?” She looks desperately at Dean. “Yeah, actually, I did,” he answers and she frowns, her chest depleting with hope, “Your brother?” he asks, taking a good guess. She nods, shoulders dropped, something passing in her eyes, “I’m sorry,” he apologies, “let’s get you guys out of here, then we’ll take care of those bastards,” he points to the control panel, “this thing takes a key.”

“Then please say one of you, by chance, happened to see the key,” I add.

“No, I don’t know,” Sam answers. I nod, “Right. That’s fun and awesome, we get to venture into the home of serial killers.” I turn on my heels, heading back the way we came, hearing Dean’s steps right behind me. “Hey,” Sam suddenly calls out. We stop, turning around, he adds, “Be careful.” 

My lips curve up into a half-smile, “We will!” I answer enthusiastically. “Yeah,” Dean responds in the only way he knows how. I don’t think he understands that people care and worry about him, especially when he sees himself as the protector I wish there was a way to help him unlearn that and if one already exists I want to know it.

****

I pull myself up, my hands holding firm to the window sill, we were lucky to find an open window. Scooting myself into the dark room, I turn back leaning out the window to take the flashlight from Dean. He lifts himself up and in with ease, taking the flashlight back from me. He flicks it on, scanning the room with the light, revealing shelf after shelf of specimen jars. I move closer to one of the jars, a severed hand with a star tattoo by its thumb floating in the alcohol. “You know what they say, people with tattoos taste bad,” I mumble.

“Who says that?” Dean whispers in disbelief.

“Cannibals,” I whisper back, “They say it makes the flesh taste all weird. They also say the hands are the worst to eat, ‘not a lot of meat there.”

“You think these guys are cannibals too?” He asks, flashlight shining over the various jars and bottles.

“I don’t know, maybe,” I shrug, if they weren’t then I wonder why they would keep only some body parts but get rid of the others. He nods slowly to the possibility, flashlight gliding over a wall of Polaroid pictures each with the same two boys with long noses, beards, and hats, standing beside a dead body. “I’ll say it again, demons I get. People are crazy,” Dean says pointing to a particular photo, one with them holding Jenkin's corpse. I wonder how late we were, maybe we could’ve saved him too.

Carefully I creep my way to the closed door, opening it slowly just a crack, I peek out viewing the hallway for anyone. I wait one, two, three beats before opening the door more, signaling to him that the coast was clear. I exit the room first, Dean close behind me, I motion towards the old wooden stairs in question and he nods taking the lead once more. He creeps up the stairs careful not to step on something that looks like it would creak, I follow behind walking on my tip-toes for extra measure. The stairs continue up one more level but we stick with the second floor. Reaching the landing we stepped into the living room, the room was grey and dark with no furniture around just a big empty room. I step deeper into the room, the wallpaper is peeling and the room smells like mildew. The only pleasant thing was a soft tune coming from a room nearby, instrumental but not quite classical, a hacking sound interrupting the melody every few seconds.

Suddenly something in the room clacks together, hitting each other repeatedly. I turn quickly to the noise, guard up. Dean moves away from the object he must have hit as he mutters, “What the–.” A windchime of bones hang from the ceiling down by the window, the bones were clean and white–clearly well taken care of, some bones slightly longer but they were mostly smaller bones. I watch as he brushes it off with a slight shiver before moving to a different part of the room picking up a miscellaneous plank of wood. He notices me staring and motions with his head to follow, he leads us to the next room close to the kitchen towards the hacking. We reach the archway and he peeks in before making a hand signal for me to stay where I am as he riskily moves to the other side of the archway.

Perhaps stupidly I take a quick peek before resuming my place flat against the wall, taking a moment to go over what I saw in the quick glimpse. An older man at a kitchen counter, his back to us, nothing reflective in front of him that's visible from this angle, cluttered room, windows bordered up, a bag of tools positioned behind him with at least a meat cleaver in it but guessing by the shape there were more objects- maybe more knives, the meat he was working on wasn’t visible but the likelihood of it being human remained pretty high.

I look over at Dean, some jar full of teeth in his hand, his face scrunched in disgust. “What are you doing?!” I mouth. He puts the thing down on a little stand that stands across from him, and he opens his mouth to respond when the floor creaks behind him, he turns quickly and I try to see behind him with wide eyes but he’s too tall to see anything from this position. I look to the floor instead, trying to look for another pair of feet. I hear him say something softly with his hands raised, but from where I am I can’t hear. Between his own feet, I see small bare ones, perhaps belonging to that of a child.

Then before another beat passes the child says something and Dean is pushed up against the wall with a groan, a choked noise escaping him as he lifts a hand to his abdomen. The girl smiles wickedly, but before her lips can part, I launch myself at her, wrapping my arms around her from behind and pinning her arms to her sides. “DA–” she manages to get out before I clamp a hand over her mouth.

She thrashes against my grip, knocking me against the little table. Objects rattle behind me, but I hold firm. Dean pulls the knife out of his stomach as he slides down the wall, blood staining his shirt. I force the girl forward, her large matted hair obscuring my vision. She kicks wildly, nearly breaking my hold.

“Okay,” I breathe, “Okay, it’s alright, go to sleep.” I focus, letting my abilities surge, the familiar energy coursing through my veins. It flows down my arms into my fingertips that grip her. 

I reach into her mind, a violent sea of chaotic thoughts and emotions screaming back at me. Her fear and anger lash out like storm-driven waves. I step into it, the wind of internal screams and panic parting for me. I step in deeper, my steps gentle. I echo the words I said out loud to her, my voice soft like a lullaby once lost. The storms begin to quiet. Her physical struggles begin to slow as she subcomes to my soft insistent voice. Her thoughts slow, the waves turning to ripples until they are still. I creep out of her mind, gently lowering the unconscious child to the floor and leaning her against a nearby wall. It was the best I could without harming her and I would not harm a child.

Quick footsteps adjourn down the staircase. I reach Dean, kneeling in front of him, replacing his hands around the wound. He watches me carefully, quietly, eyebrows pinched together slightly. I know I must work quickly. With a breath, the purple glow of my powers seeped into the deep stab wound. Slowly the torn flesh and tissue knit back together, “You’re either gonna have to hurry sweetheart, or stop,” he warns. It was a deep wound and it would take longer than what we had, “But stopping would be stupid, and dangerous especially since you’ve already taken the knife out which you should never do ‘cause it only makes you bleed out more,” I answer quickly. I can practically feel the roll of his eyes without having to look. 

A floorboard creaks a foot away. I curse under my breath, reluctantly pulling away from Dean and standing up just as a hard hand grips my shoulder. I turn quickly, throwing a punch, my knuckles hitting a hard face. The man stumbles just slightly, loosening his grip on me. A fistful of my hair is pulled, forcing my neck back uncomfortably as my scalp burns. A choked grunt leaves my lips as the person uses my hair to drag me away, with a snap of his wrist I’m thrown to the floor. I land on my hands and knees hard, “Bitch,” the man spits. I get up with a single laugh. He charges at me. I throw a hand out, energy shooting from my hand. He goes flying hitting the wall hard, his stupid baseball cap falling off as he slides to the floor. His long face drops, fear filling his dark irises, he scurries to sit up. “W–w-witch!” he yells with a shaky pointed finger, getting the attention of his partner. The other long-faced man stares at us, distracted, giving Dean the leverage to push the man off of him followed by a punch to the face.

I return my attention to the accusing man. I return my arm to my side, and with a small shrug and a smile I answer, “Guilty.” His face seems to pale, and with a newfound determination, he picks himself up. “Do you really wanna do that? You can stay down,” I offer him. But he snarls and suddenly I’m thrown to the side, a separate body on top of me, my upper arm scraping against the wooden floor. I grunt as the person turns me over and lands a smooth punch to my nose, I catch a glimpse of Dean straddling the guy I had been dealing with serving punch after punch. They had switched people and it worked. Warmth trickles down my nose as I lift my legs around the man and in one fair sweep turn us over. I land punch after punch until a weird metal noise echos against the walls followed by a heavy drop. Stupidly, I look over. Dean’s on the floor unconscious, the tall man who was in the kitchen standing over him with a pan. The dots connect quickly as the man below me pushes me off and stands up with a stumble. I follow his lead and stand up too, wiping the back of my hand below my nose, dragging away blood.

All three men stand together. The one I was just dealing with speaks, “You’re partners down why don’t you be a good girl and give up.” My skin curls, my spine chilling, “Why don’t I rip out your eyeballs and feed it to you’re friends over here, ‘m sure they’d enjoy it,” I reply. The man laughs, “Oh,” his dark teeth exposed, “ I like you.”

My lips curl in disgust, “The feeling is not mutual.” The man in the middle with the pan, the oldest, nudges the man who lost his hat. Silently he moves away, into another room. Now left with two men, I wait for them to make a move as charging them would be stupid and I’d likely be overpowered in seconds. The man returns with a butcher knife and a fire poker. He hands the knife to the other, all three now armed with weapons. The knife and pan weren't much of a worry, not compared to the fire poker. Fire pokers were made from iron, a material made to withstand heat, and apparently witches too. I eye the weapon hoping they could not smell the fear on me like Hannibal.

The two younger men come forward, rushing me. I duck out of the way of the butcher knife, nearly cutting my cheek in the process as I kick the man with the fire poker in the chest. He stumbles and I grab the arm of the knife holder pulling him closer before kicking him in the balls. He bellows as he falls to his knees. The fire poker soars in front of me, one of the little hooks catching on the top of my shirt. He pulls it back, the material ripping slightly and biting into my skin. I turn my attention to him, brows furrowed. He seems to regret his decision as I take a step closer to him. His grip on the fire poker is loose as he takes a step back. I follow after him, easily hitting his wrist. The poker clinking to the floor. Heavy footsteps shuffle behind me. I throw a hand up, flicking it back. Sending the knife man flying. All the while I keep my eyes on the man in front of me. I tilt my head slowly. He throws a punch. I catch it. Twisting his arm until it's behind his back, I walk him a few steps in front of me before throwing him to the ground. 

Suddenly, the eldest man is hitting me across the face with the back of his hand. I stumble back, a familiar memory flashing in my mind. I blink rapidly pushing the memory away just as I’m hit on the side of my face. The pan is suddenly hard against my stomach. I land on my butt with a choked noise. He motions and suddenly the knife man is holding down my arms and the poker man is holding down my ankles. I struggle against their hold. Energy surges in my veins, eyes wide. The fire poker has replaced the pan. He lifts it above his head. Energy is at my fingertips. The fire poker is stabbed through my thigh, through the jeans. A scream erupts from my throat. The energy disappears at once. The room tilts. Everything disappears.

Deep voices flow in and out. The room in blinks. My head spins. Heavy, so heavy.

Heavy eyelids open. Hardly awake. Glimpses of Dean across the room, tied to a chair, his eyes just a bit more aware than mine. 

“Come on. Let us hunt ‘em,” one of them says. My head lulls back, catching a glimpse of the poker sticking out of my leg. My eyes shoot open, suddenly more aware of the predicament. “Yeah, they're both fighters. Sure would be fun to hunt,” the other one adds. Pain surges to my thigh as I sit up straighter, rope binding my hands behind my back and rope to keep my ankles to my chair–matching Dean from what I could see. Their tall frames acted as a wall between us. The eldest laughs a hideous laugh. 

“Oh, you gotta be kiddin’ me. That’s what this is about? You–you yahoos hunt people?” Dean comments, his voice gruff. I huff, “This is one of those times I hate being right.”

Suddenly, the little girl from before, now awake, walks past me knife-drawn. I trace her movements with my eyes. She comes close enough to drag the blade across my cheek in a straight line. I clench my teeth to keep from giving them gratification. She pulls away, seemingly satisfied as blood drips down my cheek, “You having fun there?” I mock. She spits at my feet, all retaliation for invading her mind. The eldest turns his attention on me, stalking closer, “You said you’s one ‘em witches?” he asks.

“Sure,” I reply plainly.

“Thought we burned all of ya at the stake.” 

“Guess you missed one,” I muse instead of giving a history lesson to correct his statement. 

“Why don't you show us a trick?” He tests, eyeing me.

“How about I kill you instead.”

“You ever killed before?”

“I can make an exception for you lot,” I answer. He chuckles before turning to Dean, “What ‘bout you boy, you ever killed before?”

“Wh–” Dean laughs uncomfortably, “Well, that depends on what you mean.” 

“I’ve hunted all my life,” the eldest starts, “Just like my father, his before him. I’ve hunted deer and bear—I even got a cougar once,” he sighs almost dreamily, “Oh boy. But the best hunt is human. Oh, there’s nothin’ like it. Holdin’ their life in your hands. Seein’ the fear in their eyes just before they go dark. Makes you feel powerful, alive.”

“You’re a sick puppy,” Dean replies.

“You need therapy…” I add, “And jail time.” He ignores our commentary to continue his demented story, “We give ‘em a weapon. Give ‘em a fightin’ chance. It’s kind of like our tradition passed down, father to son. Of course, only one or two a year. Never enough to bring the law down, we never been that sloppy.”

“Yeah, well, don’t sell yourself short. You’re plenty sloppy,” Dean interjects. Not so much ignoring it he asks, “So, what, you two with that pretty cop? Are you cops?” he asks.

“If I tell you, you promise not to make me into an ashtray?” Dean teased. The eldest tenses. The man whom I had scared before walks over to him and punches Dean square in the face. “Only reason I don’t let my boys take you right here and now is that there’s somethin’ I need to know,” the father informs ever so kindly. He turns his back on Dean and stalks his way towards me. “Yeah, how ‘bout it’s not nice to marry your sister,” Dean mocks from behind him. The father doesn't flinch even as I laugh at Dean's joke. Suddenly, he grabs the fire poker sticking out of my thigh, moving it around inside as he keeps eye contact, silencing my laughter. I try not to give a reaction, clenching my teeth until it feels like I might break a tooth. But in one movement he pulls the poker from my leg, my nails digging into the chair, a rugged scream erupting from my throat. The room rattles. Blood gushes from the wound, soaking my jeans. Something on a mantel clatters to the floor. He grabs hold of my chin, forcing my face up. “There it is,” he murmurs, voice gravely, as he peers into my pupils that are no doubt purple. He lets go of my face roughly, he adjusts the fire poker in his hand and I expect him to shove it back in, instead, he moves to the old fireplace near me. I force my powers inward, containing them, I would not be a toy for someone. 

I turn my head towards the man, desperate to track his movements, my chest heaving–breath uneven. With a steady eye, he holds the poker over the fire, waiting for the tip to get hot, “Tell me…any of the cops gonna come lookin’ for you?” he asks, the warm glow of the fire illuminating the side of his grimy face. “Oh, eat me,” Dean responds gruffly, “No, no, no, wait, wait, wait, you actually might.” One of the goons walks over to Dean and holds his head in place as the father walks over, the hot fire poker at his side. “You think this is funny? You brought this down on my family?”

“Buddy,” I breathe, cutting him off, “You brought this upon yourself.”

“Alright, you wanna play games?” he mocks, “We’ll play some games.” He looks at the others as he announces, “Looks like we’re gonna have a hunt tonight after all, boys,” a horrible smirk on his face. He turns his attention to Dean, “And you get to pick the animal. The boy or the cop?”

“Okay, wait, wait—look, nobody’s comin’ for us, alright? It’s just us,” Dean answers, all humor gone from his voice. But his response doesn’t satisfy the father, “You don’t choose, I will,” he threatens as he places the hot poker on Dean’s chest, right near his shoulder. A deep piercing scream erupts from his throat. I try to lunge at the man despite my restraints, the other goon comes around to hold my shoulders. The father removes the poker. The screaming silents as Dean curses him out, “Ah, you son of a bitch!” He holds the poker hardly an inch from Dean’s eye, “Next time, I’ll take an eye.”

“Alright, the guy, the guy! The guy!” Dean yells. The goon holding his head lets go, and the father moves the poker to his side again before pulling a necklace from beneath his shirt, a key dangling from it. He pulls it from around his neck and throws it to the man behind me. He releases my shoulders as he catches it, “Lee, go do it,” the father orders, “Don’t let him out though. Shoot him in the cage.” Lee walks to the door, the key clutched as he picks up one of the many guns by the doorway. “What? I thought you said you were gonna hunt him. You were gonna give him a chance!” Dean shouts at the man. But the father ignores him, “Lee, when you’re done with the boy…shoot the bitch too.” Lee nods and leaves.

“Better clean this mess up before any more cops come runin’ out here,” the father explains. I struggle with my restraints again, I would not be useless even as my body works hard to heal the gaping hole in my thigh. But the battle against the simple ropes is fruitless, it's tied too tight and adrenaline is only bringing my energy levels so far. I don’t want to be useless, I could manage the ropes off and get up and fight.

The father spins around, eyes on me. He grabs my chin again, forcefully moving my face as he studies my eyes. “I think we’ll keep your eyes,” he remarks and it feels like a mockery of my previous threat. In a clean movement, the fire poker is shoved back in. It rips through the minute works of healing my body had managed. A scream chokes in my throat. My abilities out at once. “Lo–” a distant gunshot cuts him off. He stands away from me, his face dropping. “You hurt my brother, I’ll kill you, I swear. I’ll kill you all. I will kill you all!” Dean yells. The father ignores him as he calls out for his son, “Lee!” No answer comes. “Lee!” he calls for him again and again no answer comes. He turns to his other kids, “Jared, you come with me. Missy, you watch ‘em now.” Jared works quickly, grabbing two riffles before handing one to his father. And just as quickly they leave. Missy moves closer to Dean, knife drawn and held dangerously close to his eye.

****

I force my eyes to remain open and focused on the ceiling as I lean my head back. We heard multiple gunshots but it was impossible to know who they hit or if they hit at all. And I was growing tired. I may have my tetanus shot but I’m bleeding out…slowly.

The floorboards creak outside the room with particularly placed footsteps. Missy looks between us before scoffing and walking out of the room. Just out of sight, there's shuffling, something clinking to the floor, a door rushed closed, and the dragging of furniture. Seconds later a familiar tall figure steps into the room, “Sam!” Dean laughed. He was battered and bruised but not terribly hurt. He eyes us, our condition, but doesn’t comment on it as he moves to Dean, easily cutting off the ropes. He rises from the chair, hand pressed to his marked shoulder, hunched over just slightly. 

Both boys cross over to me. Sam kneels, cutting away on the rope. Dean removes his hand from his shoulder, the burn mark looks worse up close and would undoubtedly leave a scar. I’d have to heal him. “Gonna have to pull that out, sweetheart,” he remarks. I frown, “That’ll make it worse.”

“You’re not better off this way,” he points out and I know he’s right…unfortunately. I give him a single nod, grounding my teeth as I await the pain. “It’s gonna hurt,” he warns. He wraps his hands around the poker, eyes tracing my face as he pulls it straight out. I groan, biting down on my teeth hard enough to break one. “I am going to rip his throat out and shove it up his ass,” I grumble through clenched teeth. Blood drips down the tip of the poker before he drops it to the floor, blood gushing from the wound.  I take several breaths in and out, in an attempt to calm myself, and with a single thought, I make a roll of gauze, alcohol pads, and a large medical bandage form in the palm of my hand. I handed the small packets to Dean, “For your forehead,” a small cut and dried blood stained the corner of his forehead no doubt from being hit with a pan. 

“You’re not gonna heal your leg?” he asks as I wrap the gauze over the hole in my thigh, blood immediately soaking the bandage. I shake my head, focused on the task and not the pain, “‘Take too long, we’ll have a healing party later.” He seems to accept the answer as he helps me out of the seat, restraints gone. Sam’s hands circle my waist as I steady myself upright, both boys aiding me in the endeavor to walk. We shuffle out of the room that could only be remembered as a part of a torture house. Something bangs on a passing door, hitting the door repeatedly. I spared the noise a glance, it was likely Missy trapped behind the door which would explain where she went and the shuffling before Sam found us.

The porch steps creak beneath our feet. Kathleen emerges from the barn, a thin layer of sweat sticking strands of her dark hair to her face. She walks over to us, meeting us in front of the cannibal house. “Where’s the girl?” she asks, eyeing our condition with careful eyes. “Locked her in a closet,” Dean answers, looking behind the cop and to the barn, “What about the dad?”

She pauses, lips parted, her expression hardening, “Shot. Trying to escape.” She doesn’t have to say anything more for us to know she’s half lying. There’s no doubt he’s dead, the blood splatter on her shirt proving that fact, but during escape was up in the air—not that it matters much to us. He’s dead. Good riddance. 

****

Sam nurses a bottle of water, slowly sipping the contents. He’d gone too long without water and food, we’re lucky Kathleen had at least a bottle in the trunk of her car. Kathleen had moved away from us to call for backup, her figure lingering a couple of feet away.

I gently place a hand over the burn mark near Dean's shoulder, his hand immediately holding my wrist, “You should really work on yourself first,” he points out. I hum in recognition, warmth igniting from my hand and seeping into his skin. He takes a deep breath like his lungs are filling up with air for the first time. “It would scar and a burn mark is harder for the body to heal than just some regular wound,” I reason, the gentle hues of sunset reflecting in his eyes. “There’s a hole in your thigh. That’s not a regular wound,” he argues. I smile, knowing he’s right, “Well I wouldn’t finish by the time we left meaning the chance of the wound reopening is high.” He sighs, “And… the car’s at the police station.”

“Exactly,” I nod, lifting my hand from its place on him. The burn mark was gone, his skin clear and smooth like nothing had happened. “So, state police and the FBI are gonna be here within the hour,” Kathleen suddenly says from behind me. I move to the side of Dean, my hands clasped behind my back as if I hadn’t been touching him. “They’re gonna wanna talk to you. I suggest that you’re long gone by then,” she adds.

“Thanks,” Dean replies, “Hey, listen, I don’t mean to press our luck, but we’re kind of in the middle of nowhere. Think we could catch a ride?” 

She gives him a pointed look, “Start walking. Duck if you see a squad car.” 

“Sounds great to me. Thanks,” Sam says quickly, not pushing it further. “Oh, I, um, I’m sorry for acting like a jerk earlier. I know I could’ve been way nicer,” I apologize, thinking back to my harsh words. “It’s fine, I get it, I would’ve done the same,” she replies and I hope she really does accept my apology.

 “Listen, uh…” Dean starts, “I’m sorry about your brother.” Kathleen swallows roughly, “Thank you,” her eyes tear up, “It was really hard not knowing what happened to him. I thought it would be easier once I knew the truth—but it isn’t really,” she pauses, her words hanging in the air, “Anyway, you should go.” The boys nod and I wish there was more we could do for her as we walk away.

****

“Never do that again,” Dean warns, breaking the silence that had enveloped us on our walk. “Do what?” Sam asks, oblivious. “Go missin’ like that,” he elaborates. 

Sam laughs, “You were worried about me.”

“All I’m sayin’ is, you vanish like that again, I’m not lookin’ for ya,” Dean deflects, poorly. “Sure, you won’t,” Sam muses. We all knew it was a lie, Dean would go looking for Sam till the end of time. “I’m not,” Dean argues. Sam chuckles, “So, you got sidelined by a thirteen-year-old girl, huh?”

“Oh, shut up,” Dean shoves his brother. “Just sayin’, gettin’ rusty there, kiddo,” Sam teases, using his brother's words against him. I laugh, “He’s got a point.”

Despite himself, Dean laughs too, “Both of you, shut up.”

[fictionismyreality3]

Hi! I love your writing and i was wondering if you could write something where it’s Bradley and the reader’s wedding and for the sendoff they do something like this causeI thought its was so cute. If you can’t that’s totally fine but thanks anyway! 🫶

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CyRCdL3uZL8/?igsh=Zmx5NWd6aW1rOXRn

A Day to Remember

Tags: Rooster x reader

Notes: hi babes!! Thank you much for the request, sorry it took so long, school is kicking my ass 😅

Warnings: weddings, romance and everything that comes with it

"No. There's no way I'm gonna have oragami F-16s thrown at my head on my wedding day." You laughed incredulously. 

When Bradley had proposed, you thought your life couldn't get any better. You had a dream job, a dream man, and friends that had been exactly what you needed, even though they were unexpected. Telling the squad went exactly how you expected, everyone was more excited than they had been when Roo and Maverick survived the Dagger mission. But no one had been more thrilled than Phoenix. When Pheonix asked to help plan the wedding, you were hesitant at first. 

You had first-hand experience with her lack of party-planning skills. Somehow, even though she was incredibly organized during her work, the woman had an utterly disastrous record with parties. 

And your wedding was going to be a pretty big party. 

But how could you say no to Phoenix? She had been there for you through everything. From showing up at your door with pints of ice cream when your favourite character died in the show you were watching to going full Godzilla on the new recruits that tried to hit on you. It was nearly impossible to say no to her when she pulled her puppy dog eyes out and started reciting every favour you owed her. 

So you agreed.

"C'mon, please? It will be cute, I promise." She pleaded as you continued to put your toppings on your pizza. 

It was Wednesday, which Phoenix had decided was the designated wedding planning day. She would show up with a bottle of whatever you guys wanted to drink and you would make the pizza, frozen to accommodate for the cooking skills neither of you possessed.

"Look, I already let you get away with the abundance of mason jars, I'm not getting divebombed by a bunch of the planes that we fly." You grinned. 

Rolling her eyes, Phoenix conceded, and that was how a lot of the planning was settled. Phoenix would bring up hundreds of crazy ideas, and you would filter through her overly enthusiastic party planning to find the good ones. You and Bob would rein her in whenever she got carried away, especially when she brought up the idea of having a literal rooster at the wedding. 

"I think it's hilarious," Rooster said as you two got ready for the day. He came up behind you, turning you around to face him as he lifted you up onto the bathroom counter. Your hands automatically came to rest on his shoulders, fitting perfectly just like the two of you had when you met. 

"You have one already and you can't seem to get enough, honey." He continued grinning. 

You swatted at his chest, giggling as he began to pepper kisses along your neck, following a path that only he knew down to your collarbone. You tilted your head back to give him access to your soft skin that only he would ever earn, and your words came out in a breathy sigh. 

"I think you just-" Your train of thought halted as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot of your neck. "You just like the idea of a little Roo running around, you brute." 

The rest of that morning consisted of him trying to make said 'little Roo' happen, not that you were complaining. 

The wedding was 3 months away and you were choosing your dress. Payback had insisted you go to the boutique that his grandmother used to run, saying that you could even get a dress for free. You tried to urge against it, but after his granda met you she wouldn't hear a 'no'. 

"Oh, it's so nice that my Rueben made some friends. Let me tell you about the time he.." 

So you agreed. 

Everything was ready and Phoenix was running around like a madwoman trying to orchestrate the chaos of venues, cakes and flowers into one magnificent symphony. It was 3 days out from the wedding and you had gone with your bridesmaids to the hotel Pheonix had rented to have some much-needed girl time. Rooster and the rest of the guys had done the same, probably off partying somewhere under Mav's watchful eyes. 

As you sat getting your nails done, the colour a baby blue that Rooster had picked out, you continued to poke at Phoenix for the details of the wedding. She had demanded to keep you out of the loop when it came to the majority of the venue decoration she had selected. Even Rooster wouldn't spill when you called him that night. 

"I don't wanna face her wrath, honey. You know-" He began. 

"Hey! No talking to the groom. It's bad luck!" Phoenix said as she plucked the phone from your hand.

When your wedding day finally came, you were a ball of nerves. As you got blindfolded and brought up to bridal sweet to get ready, you could only imagine what combinations of decor she had concocted. In your mind, you replayed the time she tried to throw a Christmas party for the squad that resulted in one too many poppers, a fireplace, and a whole lot of firetrucks. 

"Ready, kid?" Maverick's voice broke you out of your thoughts. 

Taking one last look in the mirror at yourself, the dress you had picked out making you look like a princess, you nodded and took his arm. As the two of you finally stopped in front of the doors that stood between you and your future, your heart swelled with anticipation. The sound of Bruno Mars 'Just the Way You Are' being played on the piano filled your ears, and Mav straightened where he stood, looking down at you with a proud smile. 

"That's our cue, kid. You got this." He whispered to you as the doors opened. 

All at once every ounce of fear or worry you had been holding on to dissipated. 

Phoenix had outdone herself. 

White Calla Lilies hung from the ceiling, surrounded by fairy lights and other perfectly placed bobbles. Every table was decorated with a centrepiece of forget-me-nots and daisies. The teary smiles of your family and friends stared at you in happiness. Even the mason jar candles sat in just the right amounts. 

Your eyes locked on Bradley, whose tears were already flowing, and you walked down the aisle without hesitation. 

Mav handed you off to Bradley, muttering a few protective words before going to take his seat as the priest began to speak. 

"Hey, you." You whispered to Bradley.

"Hey, hun." He choked out through tears. 

Both of you stood at the altar, grinning ear to ear at each other. Your vows to each other made sure there wasn't a dry eye left in the room. 

"You may now kiss the-" The priest began to say.

He didn't even get a chance to finish before Rooster already had his hands on either side of your face and was slamming his lips to yours. He was kissing you so hard your hands shot out to hold the lapels of his suit jacket so your swooning didn't cause you to fall over.

The crowd erupted in cheers, and you could hear the distinct sound of Hangman and the other guys hooting and hollering as Bradley poured every single ounce of love he had for you into the kiss. 

You had your first dance to 'Ain't No Mountain High Enough', and before you knew it you and Rooster were being whisked away by Phoenix for your send-off. 

The same send-off that she had refused to tell you about. 

"Just don't get mad!" She said quickly.

"Nat? What do you mean? What did you do?" You looked to Rooster for help but he was wearing the same conspiratorial grin as Phoenix. 

Before you could say anything else, she was already pushing both of you outside. It took a second for your eyes and ears to adjust to the sight and sound of your cheering loved ones who were lining the steps of the venue. It took even longer to process what you saw in each of their hands. 

Instead of baskets of rice, everyone there was holding what looked like a piece of paper. You were about to ask Bradley what was going on, but then something hit you in the side of your head. Startled, you went to turn to see what hit you, only to be greeted with the sight of a mischievous Phoenix holding two origami planes. 

Two F-16s to be exact. 

Before you could react, you and Rooster were getting pelted by a rain of paper F-16s. You burst out laughing as he grabbed your hand, pulling you to the limo so quickly you barely got a chance to wave goodbye to everyone. 

You let out a sigh of contentment as you slipped into the limo, looking back at the perfect venue and perfect friends who had planned it all. 

Okay, maybe you'd let Phoenix plan every party you had. 

[monsters-conquer-the-world]

OOZEPUNK

WHAT IS OOZEPUNK?

Oozepunk is the term I'm coining for the microgenre of urban heroic sci-fi horror-fantasy that first exploded in the mid-80s with movies, shows, and comics like Ghostbusters, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, The Toxic Avenger, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Hellboy, Street Sharks, and others. Lots of natural crossover with Biopunk and Cyberpunk, aesthetically and philosophically.

Your childhood trauma didn't let you forget Roger Rabbit heavily featured colorful nightmare slime, did it?

A ragtag gang of weirdos (often horribly mutated--more on that soon) band together to save a city that doesn't understand them. Grimy sewers, abandoned buildings and graffiti'd brick walls are lit up by neon lights, streams of mysterious, glowing goo and/or the unearthly lights of futuristic particle weapons--ideally all of the above!

Beyond the "cracked concrete and gutters full of liquid plutonium" aesthetic, Oozepunk prankishly asks "What if catastrophic aberrations of science, particularly DUMPING TOXIC FUCKING WASTE STRAIGHT INTO THE ENVIRONMENT created fucked-up monsters... but they're HEROIC fucked-up monsters!" These catastrophic aberrations of science grant the heroes incredible powers, but COST them their place in human society. (Ghostbusters and Roger Rabbit eschew character mutation in favor of discovering that the undead and olde tymey cartoons are real [and exploitable!], respectively. 'Busters and 'Toon sympathizers alike are treated like insane idiots and/or frauds in their respective universes.)

Oozepunk heroes are challenged not only by strange supernatural beings, but by human society itself. The Ghostbusters battle with local politicians as much as they do the undead. In the recent (and delightful) TMNT: Mutant Mayhem, Splinter warns the Turtles of humans and their obsession with "milking" mutants for their blood--on top of the villainous mutants they're trying to thwart!

Crank up the creep factor in Oozepunk and you get awesome anti-establishment goo-horror like 1988's The Blob, The Stuff, Street Trash, and probably a bunch more. Toxic Avenger is a batshit crazy splatter-comedy (i.e. classic Troma)... and still garnered sequels, a kid's cartoon and toyline!

And there's a Shredder's Revenge-style Crusaders beat-em-up coming out next year??

This looks dope as shit

Ghostbusters and TMNT are the only current, "evergreen" (or radioactive green!) Oozepunk franchises I can think of off the top of my head, but Oozepunk elements are buried in almost all of the stories and settings I love the most. Heroic kaiju like King Kong, Godzilla and Gamera paved the way for our freaky friends, but so did comics characters like Fantastic Four's Ben "The Thing" Grimm, The Hulk and Swamp Thing. Hell, I think I blame SESAME STREET of all things for starting me down the Oozepunk path.

Surprise! I've loved screaming trash monsters with secret hearts of gold since I was a fucking baby, and they've ALWAYS been there for me!

But it's not just Oscar, Sesame Street as a whole is a proto-Oozepunk utopia, years before the big Ooze-splosion of the 80s. Muppets, monsters, talking animals and chill humans all live and work together to scrape by with a little dignity in a gritty-but-wholesome urban world!

Sesame Street, a decades-long reminder that educational childrens' programming can and SHOULD be cool as hell looking and loaded with all kinds of friendly mutant freakuloids.

OOZEPUNK! Whaddya think?

[kingofech0park]

six ways to say you're my everything

iwaoi (wc: 6,442)

The new kid moves into the house across the street when Iwaizumi is four. Fourteen years later, he's moving to Argentina. Hajime has never been good with words, so how can he find a way to tell his best friend he loves him before it's too late?

Alternatively, a million times Iwaizumi tries to say I love you, and one time the two manage to get it right.

______

The new kid moves into the house across the street when Iwaizumi is four.

Hajime watches the big moving van pull up in front of the house with great curiosity. He likes trucks. This one comes with a big dining room table, a couch, a little-kid bed frame that’s just the same size as his– and a whiny brat with huge eyes like milk chocolate and brown hair that’s so shiny that Hajime wants to reach out and touch it, and find out if it’s real. The kid seems perpetually anxious, always hiding behind his mother when he makes accidental eye contact with Hajime through the windowpane but still peering out from behind her legs to catch another glance. 

Hajime thinks he’s weird. He tells his mother this, to which she unceremoniously kicks him outside to go make a friend.

So he’s standing outside, scuffed velcro sneakers kicking a rock through the grass when it happens– New Kid is laying down in the grass across the road, looking through the green blades, and then he screams and sprints across the road without even bothering to look both ways. He’s weird. He also runs straight towards Hajime, screaming continuously and uninterrupted, and not even a full body slam into the other boy can get him to shut up.

“HEY!” Hajime shouts at New Kid, who is now fully on top of him and screeching still to heaven and earth and anyone else who could hear him (which is most everyone in Miyagi, Hajime is sure) and the New Kid pauses to take a breath, trembling and eyes huge and glassy with tears as he stares at Hajime momentarily. 

“I saw a bee .” New Kid whispers before the tears spill over and he begins wailing. Jeez. He’s so weird, Hajime thinks, but wraps him up in a hug anyway and pats his back with one tiny hand. The kid buries his snotty crying face into Hajime’s Godzilla t-shirt and as much as he wants to shove him off, the boy’s hair is just as soft as it looks and all up under Hajime’s chin.

“Did it even sting you?” Hajime questions, half annoyed, half jokingly.

“It DIDN’T.” New Kid looks up with indignation, already wiping away the tears. “But it’s a BEE and I don’t LIKE IT.”

“Were you scared? Lotsa people are scared of bees.” Hajime reassures him, patting his back again. The other boy swipes his hand aside.

“I’m not scared. I don’t get scared because I’m super brave!” It’s not a very convincing show, considering the flush on the boy’s cheeks from all the crying and the string of snot dripping from his tiny nose, but he seems dead set on this fact, so Hajime doesn’t push it.

“Well I’m Iwaizumi Hajime.” He says. “I live in the blue house.”

“Iwai… Iway-soomy?”

“IWAIZUMI.” He corrects firmly. New Kid looks like he’s about to burst into tears again as he tries to pronounce it, tongue stumbling over the Z, and Hajime relents. “You can just call me Iwa, I guess.”

“Iwa… that sounds DUMB.” New Kid sticks out his tongue. “I’m Oikawa Tooru.” Hajime is just getting ready to light into him for calling his name dumb when Oikawa says cheerily, “I’ll just call you Iwa-chan!”

“NO!”

“Iwa-chan!!” The new kid hits Hajime with this thousand watt grin, one that feels like sunshine and butterflies and rainbows and makes his heartbeat speed up, or maybe skip a few beats. He brushes off the feeling as best as he can and hides the sudden weirdness underneath a facade of annoyance.

“You’re just mad you can’t pronounce my name, Dumbykawa.”

“HEY! That is very mean.” Oikawa says, stomping one foot. “Iwa-chan is a meanie.”

“It’s IWAIZUMI!”

And so begins the greatest adventure that never truly ends.

______

Within a few weeks of the Oikawas moving in, Hajime has become Tooru’s brave knight in shining armor, and Tooru his delicate prince.

As much as the brunette claims to be big and strong and valiant, he screams when he sees ladybugs and the Iwaizumis’ dog and cries when Hajime reminds him that he’s shorter. “I’ll grow taller than you one day.” Tooru proclaims, cheeks pink and embarrassed, and shrieks at his Iwa-chan to stop laughing after.

Hajime has never had anyone to share everything with before. They eat melonpan and milkbread together in the green grass of spring and share watermelon popsicles when the sticky heat of summer comes around. Oikawa screams when grasshoppers appear before them as they sit on the curb and leaps into his knight’s arms, screaming “SAVE ME, IWA-CHAN.” as he hides behind tiny fingers. June passes fast and July faster, a blink of an eye in 31 long afternoons spent wading in the creek and catching dragonflies. Birthdays pass by full of excitement and cake and new toys to play with, but their new five-year-old status means something new: by August, the pair have a far greater foe than large bugs and thunder to reckon with. They are going to kindergarten. 

Oikawa doesn’t want to, vocally complaining every chance he gets, and Hajime doesn’t either– but he still holds his prince’s hand and tells him important things, like that it’ll be just fine and don’t you want to get super smart and big like your mom and dad? Tooru nods, face screwed up tearfully like it always is when anything remotely bad happens, and the two prepare for the first day of school of their lives.

The last sleepover of summer hurts in all the best ways. Oikawa is up in Iwaizumi’s godzilla themed bedroom with his alien patterned pillow under one arm and the two play trucks late into the night, the last sunset of freedom streaking gold and orange across the evening sky. They watch movies until too late, eat far too many sugary snacks, and as night falls, Oikawa snuggles into bed next to Hajime despite the existence of a perfectly good futon and whispers into his neck, “Iwa-chan, I’m scared.”

“Me too.” Hajime mumbles. He knows he’s the brave knight. He knows he’s supposed to protect Tooru, his sweet prince, but he’s scared. And they’re only five. And kindergarten feels like the biggest monster he’s ever had to fight, or maybe the end of the world.

“But I’ll be with you!” Oikawa looks utterly shocked, surprise written all over his five-year-old features, rosy cheeks so endearing, eyes so big and brown and warm. “Iwa-chan will protect me and I’ll protect Iwa-chan.”

“Yep! That’s a good idea.” Hajime feels the smile spreading over his face as the brunette snuggles closer. 

“We’ll be together forever, right, Iwa-chan?” Tooru asks. His face is all pink and sweet and worried, and Hajime doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t have the words yet to say, of course. I want you with me always and forever and no matter what. Doesn’t know how to say I love you. So he just kisses his best friend on the cheek, short and swift, and hides under the covers.

“Yeah. Go to sleep, Dumbykawa.” He mutters, face flushed.

Iwaizumi is sure of the undeniable truth at that moment– as long as they are together, everything will be okay.

______

Elementary school comes and goes in a whirlwind of time after the two discover volleyball in second grade. 

At first, Iwaizumi is sure it’s another one of Oikawa’s phases that come and go– brief obsessions with constellations, with aliens, with dinosaurs, with drawing, with baking (the shortest, forcefully put to an end by his mother after he almost set fire to the kitchen) but the sport sticks in his life, a new and permanent fixture that changes their friendship in a thousand perfect ways. Time spent wandering through the creeks, Tooru complaining about bug bites, is now spent sweaty and starry-eyed as they both pull off their first decent receives, first basic serves, first sets and spikes that they cheer at, fist bumping as they raucously yell in excitement. Everything about volleyball is new to them both and yet utterly addictive, terrific, fitting into their lives flawlessly like the last piece of the puzzle. Childhoods always pass people by quickly, and theirs is a thing to behold; a thing to dream about in thirty years, a quintessential youth spent finding ways to fly.

But by the end of fifth grade, Hajime is already feeling it– the omnipresent weight of the growth to come, the transition to junior high marking an abandonment of childish freedoms. They have both changed so much since they have met, but volleyball remains, a remnant of a picturesque boyhood to carry onward. Oikawa has latched onto it like a lifeline, and Hajime has to stop him from practicing before he collapses on some worrying nights.

They still have sleepovers often. They practice volleyball constantly, but they still watch space movies at Oikawa’s behest, still share dorayaki and still buy ramune on hot days. But there are other, subtle changes now that they are older; his best friend has begun to sleep on the futon without complaint most nights, and their midnight chatter has become sprinkled with a new topic of conversation: girls.

“Do you have a crush, Iwa-chan? Don’t you think Ishida-chan from our class is cute? She looks at you all the time, you know, I bet she likes you.”

“Knock it off.” Hajime always says, pushing the topic of conversation off before Oikawa can probe too much. The problem with this whole situation is that he doesn’t have a crush. Girls don’t interest him. Boys don’t, either (and it would be sacrilege to admit it if he did). He really doesn’t know what it means to have a crush, anyway. Oikawa has explained it to him before, and he still doesn’t get it.

“It’s like, your heart gets all fluttery and you get excited and you just wanna talk to them! And get to know them. And you think they’re soooo pretty and like to look at them and stuff.”

“The only person I really get excited to talk to is you.” Iwaizumi mutters, voice gruff. “I don’t think I get this whole crush stuff.”

Oikawa looks at him, big brown eyes wide and so, so warm. “Does Iwa-chan have a crush on me?” It’s teasing, but there’s something underneath that Hajime can’t quite place.

“No, Stupidkawa. I don’t have a crush on anyone. You’re my best friend, is why,” He huffs, turning over on his bed. Oikawa sleeps on the futon again and doesn’t whine about being cold, not even once.

______

Tooru gets even more serious about volleyball somehow, once they’re in junior high.

Hajime has to personally drag him home from practice now that they go to Kitagawa Daiichi and are competing. The setter is always grinding himself to dust, trying to be better than anyone else, trying to bring out the best in every player, and trying to beat the Miyagi prefecture’s powerhouse junior high– Shiratorizawa. Oikawa is far from the little kid Hajime met– he doesn’t cry anymore, biting back every feeling instead; refusing to say if he’s hurting, refusing to admit he’s tired or hungry or has any kind of human need, like it would expose a weakness. Every time they have a sleepover now, talk of girls and crushes is a blip on the horizon of Oikawa’s infinite hunger to practice volleyball, get better at volleyball, be the greatest at volleyball, hit a perfect serve, throw a perfect set, c’mon, Iwa-chan please hit it for me just one more time, I want to make sure it’s perfect. It makes so much sense for him and yet is so puzzling to Hajime; the boy who cried in his arms because he saw a bee, not even getting stung, won’t admit when he’s overstretched the ligaments in his knees again, won’t admit when his fingers bleed as he wipes them surreptitiously on the inside of his dark blue uniform. There’s one incident, though, that really cements this new facet of Oikawa’s personality in Iwaizumi’s mind. It’s during a game.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi are second years, and Kitagawa Daiichi is playing Shiratorizawa. Tooru is spinning the ball between his fingers, preparing to serve, and his eyes are locked on the enemy– Ushijima Wakatoshi, the left handed freak spiker decked out in purple uniform, eyes narrowed as Tooru goes in for his jump serve. He’s become great at those serves. What once was a cheer-worthy hit as long as it made it over the net is now insufficient unless he scores a service ace, and he’s been practicing for hours and hours, training to perfection, training to the point of injury.

Iwaizumi can feel it from his position on the court. Tooru’s knees are just the slightest bit wobbly as he makes his approach, leaping into the air for the jump serve and his hand hits the ball with a deafening crack, its trajectory poorly aimed but its speed and power immense for a middle school team. But Oikawa’s descent from the jump is wrong. It’s like Hajime can see it in slow motion: his best friend landing on both feet, and then his right knee giving out under his body weight, collapsing to the ground.

There’s some shouting and general commotion but the setter pulls himself to his feet, face screwed up in pain, and continues to move– preparing to set the ball, to score a point, to win the game. Determined to the point of detriment like always. But the color drains from his face when he puts weight on the hurt leg, and he is mid-hobble to a setting position when the time-out is called.

“I’m not hurt, please don’t take me out of play.” He’s begging, pleading, when Hajime walks up to him and grabs him by the arm.

“What were you thinking? Getting back up to play? Stupidkawa!” He’s trying not to shout at his best friend, who’s already in so much pain, but Oikawa just launches himself into Hajime’s chest, finally letting the tears loose. It’s a whispered admission, for him and him alone, into his shoulder that Iwaizumi receives: “Iwa-chan, it really hurts.”

“I know. I can’t believe you tried to keep playing.” Hajime admonishes, pulling his best friend up by an arm around his shoulder, helping him hobble out to the nurses’. Tooru is trembling, trying not to cry some more, but holds onto Iwaizumi like a lifeline. “I want to keep playing.”

“I know.” the spiker replies as he sits him down in the nurse’s office. “But you can’t keep playing if you’re hurt, okay?”

“Shit.” Oikawa mumbles weakly into Iwaizumi’s arm, and the spiker doesn’t know how to tell him: I care about you so much. Please don’t get hurt. I love you too much to see you hurt. I want you to be happy all the time.

So he just says, “Stupidkawa. Take better care of yourself.”

“I know.” Tooru mutters, voice distant. “I know, Iwa-chan.”

______

Hajime doesn’t really get all this crush stuff until he’s a first year at Aoba Johsai.

Oikawa definitely gets it. He’s always gotten it, literally. Confessions left, front, and center, Valentine’s day candy piled up on his desk. He loves sweets, and attention, so he doesn’t seem to mind the overload of girls following him around like lost puppies everywhere he goes. But he never dates any of them, citing he’s too busy with volleyball or some other reason that’s never quite sufficient for his suitors.

There are lots of changes now that they’re in highschool. Like the myriad of girls with one eye always on Oikawa (and by proxy Iwaizumi, because they walk together so much). Like their new teammates and fellow first-years on the team, Matsukawa and Hanamaki, who are rapidly becoming their close friends. Like Oikawa growing taller than Hajime, for god's sake. But the weirdest change has definitely been this crush business.

Why does Iwaizumi get a sudden hole in the bottom of his stomach every time Oikawa is getting a confession? Is he worried that he might say yes?

He just doesn’t want to lose his best friend. That has to be it, right?

But the feeling continues. It happens when Oikawa gets excited about a heart-shaped lollipop someone gives him. It happens when Oikawa doesn’t throw away his confession letters and keeps them in a stack on his desk (“It’s not nice to throw them away, Iwa-chan! Just because you’re bad with the ladies doesn’t mean you shouldn’t respect their feelings). It happens when Oikawa goes on a cautious first date or two, never committing to a relationship but always dipping his toes in, toeing the line, something, never everything, and never nothing. And it definitely happens when Oikawa has his first real kiss and Iwaizumi feels a horrific twinge deep down in his gut that sounds exactly like, I’d feel gross kissing anyone unless it was Oikawa.

It hits him right then and there. And he doesn’t tell anyone his secret, but he’s always been a terrible liar, and the guilt feels so heavy, like an iron ball sitting in his esophagus whenever he swallows back his feelings: I have a crush on my best friend.

It isn’t a revelation in the sense that the feeling is new. It’s more of an epiphany, finally understanding something lost in translation for the last eleven years since they met, and it makes him a little sick to his stomach to finally know. Surely he had fallen for him, really, at a certain time, hour, day, minute. But the feeling seems to him to just be a natural way of being, an undeniable fact. It hurts around the edges, uncomfortable lodged in his heart now that he’s aware it’s there, but the world doesn’t end as much as Iwaizumi is sure it will, and he could never tell his best friend he loves him, so life goes on unchanged. 

Oikawa keeps saving confessions on his desk, until the pile has to be shoved into a drawer. He keeps rereading them sometimes late at night, when he’s sure he’s unlovable, and Iwaizumi keeps working to make sure his best friend knows that can’t be true. How can you be unloveable if I’ve loved you since the moment I met you? It’s what he wants to say. But he doesn’t have the words, and he doesn’t look for them. It wouldn’t change a thing. Iwaizumi would rather have him, incompletely, his best friend and everything and anything, then lose him to a stupid crush.

So he does his best to forget it.

______

It’s after the last game of an illustrious highschool career. A game against Karasuno. A game that means that Aoba Johsai’s team, and by proxy Oikawa and Iwaizumi, will never go to nationals.

They’ve all cried already. Iwaizumi has already cried into his best friend’s shoulder, wiped Tooru’s tears, compartmentalized all of this as what it is– a childhood dream gone unfulfilled, a good memory to keep nonetheless, and the last volleyball game of his highschool career with his favorite team he’s ever had the joy of playing on. And the last real game with his best friend. But they’re walking home and Hajime knows his best friend’s eyes are too hard to reflect acceptance; he grieves hard and slow and leaves a mark for himself to remember being hurt. 

“You know, you probably won’t be truly happy until you’re really old.” Iwaizumi says, trying to break the silence.

“Iwa-chan! What kind of curse is that!” His best friend’s voice is playful, but it’s off. The loss is still aching. Hajime knows him.

“No matter how many tournaments you win, you’ll still be that annoying guy who chases volleyball forever.” Iwaizumi is trying. He wants to tell him, you’ll be doing this forever. He wants to tell him, you’ll get another chance to win. And another and another and I know you won’t stop until you win everything. And I believe in you– but the words are failing him just like always.

“You always have to throw in an insult.” Tooru rolls his eyes. 

“What I’m trying to say–” Hajime’s brow furrows in frustration, the irritation getting to him. “Keep going without a second thought, anyway.”

Oikawa comes to a pause in the middle of the sidewalk. Does his best friend know how beautiful he looks in the moonlight? The flush in his face, the redness near his eyes from crying, lashes long and still wet, his soft hair swaying slightly as he walks. Hajime wants to tell him all of the most important things. He’s going to lose him soon. They will go their separate ways for the first time in fourteen years. I love you, he wants to say. You’re the love of my life. You’re going to be incredible anywhere. You always are. You’re every star in my sky. Iwaizumi Hajime has never been good with words. But he tries, just like always.

“I couldn’t be prouder to have you as a partner.” He says. “And you’re the absolute best setter.”

Iwaizumi Hajime does not know how to say it yet, how to say I love you , but he can see in his best friend’s eyes that it reaches him anyway.

______

Everything is changing all over again. Iwaizumi is moving to California for university. Oikawa is leaving, too, but even farther somehow– twelve hours of time difference away from the street with their two houses in Miyagi, to Buenos Aires, Argentina. The setter will train and train, train with José Blanco and train on the beach and grow huge wings that will fly him to the moon and stars. Hajime’s prince is becoming a king, and he won’t need a knight in shining armor by his side any longer.

It’s all happened too soon, and the unspoken confession weighs too heavy, too noticeable in his throat, bleeding all through the spiker’s lungs and skin as the date creeps closer and closer like a scheduled execution– the day his best friend, and possibly the love of his life, boards a plane and disappears to a far-off land to chase stars all by himself.

Iwaizumi has been taking care of Oikawa his whole life. Defending him from ladybugs and holding his milkbread and bandaging his scraped knees and helping him to the nurses’ office. Humming him to sleep on rough nights, spiking every set he throws at him, helping fill out a thousand forms for volleyball team applications. He’s never been good with words, but his love has been spoken through a million actions, a million moments caring, protecting his best friend from bees. Even the ones that didn’t sting. Hajime hopes, prays, pleads, that it’ll be enough. The date of departure creeps closer and closer, and the confession aches as it grows, always too close to the surface to swallow, never close enough to say.

The night before the light of his life vanishes into a memory, though, Oikawa Tooru knocks on his window and ushers him into the muggy midnight of a last Miyagi summer.

Iwaizumi gets out of bed slowly, groggily, rubbing his eyes. They come into focus to show pale, perfect setter fingers pressed up against the glass, cheeks flushed, the prettiest brown eyes on earth staring back at him. He cracks open the window. “What are you doing?”

“Iwa-chan!” His best friend smiles that thousand watt grin that got him so whipped fourteen years ago. It still fills Hajime with that big feeling, a swelling thing that makes him feel invincible, like his soul itself was buoyant, unencumbered by any evil of the world. Light. Free. But Tooru is taller now; there is a smugness in his eyes, muscles rippling along his arms, a full set of grown-up teeth between those pink lips Hajime wants to kiss so badly. His prince has grown beyond where he can reach.

That’s okay. He’s proud of him.

Iwaizumi shoves on scuffed white sneakers and swings one leg, then the other, out of the window and lands in the grass. They’ve snuck out like this hundreds of times before; at six, looking to hunt for fireflies in the stickiness of post-bedtime July; at nine, gazing up at the same constellations they always saw while Oikawa pointed out the Little Dipper, Cassiopeia, Orion’s Belt, Ursa Major. Asking if Iwaizumi thought aliens would come and kidnap them if they stayed out too late. Constantly at thirteen, Oikawa throwing set after set tirelessly or practicing his serves until his muscles ached and his knees were scraped on the pavement, Iwaizumi chastising him for his stupidity and holding his hand while they crept home; drinking at seventeen, sharing a secret sip of stolen beer under the light of a half moon, dew catching on the grass, always sharing Iwaizumi’s big green scarf that kept them both warm even if Oikawa had to lean on his best friend’s shoulder to fit. And now, at eighteen; Hajime feels his heart catch and tear on the jagged ribs that cage it. Maybe because it’ll be the last time this will ever happen, and he is not ready to let go.

“It’s my last night, Iwa-chan! Don’t you want to go out with a bang?” Tooru whispers. His voice is hushed and yet so electric; an undercurrent of excitement and passion and the slightest hint of his petulance. So, so easy to love.

“It’s the middle of your last night.” Hajime mutters dubiously. “Doesn’t your flight leave at 10am? Have you even packed?” 

The silence is loud. Iwaizumi looks at his best friend incredulously. “You really are a dumbass.”

“Shut it!” Oikawa retorts, ever so slightly whining, and God, Hajime loves him. “I wanted to go get snacks first! And you can help me pack, Iwa-chan.”

“I am not helping you pack.” Hajime snorts.

“Yes you are. You adore me.”

They walk to the convenience store with those words ringing in his head. They have far too much weight, and they’re so casual, but so true. How do you say I love you to your best friend after fourteen years of knowing it? How can you even start to explain the way you feel? Hajime could tell him lots of things. He could tell Oikawa his stupid hair is so soft and perfect even when he’s slept on it and that it doesn’t matter how much he fiddles with it, his anxiety is pointless. He could tell him that his eyes are warm like milk chocolate and fringed with lashes and that’s what makes all the girls orbit around him like he’s Jupiter, ninety-five moons always circling and never quite touching the planet’s surface. He could tell him that he hates the way he works himself so hard, hates the way he treats himself. Iwaizumi could say that he hates the way that he has to lose him, hates the way that he will let him go, every time, because Oikawa deserves to chase and pin down every dream he could possibly conjure; win everything, all of it, have the world and all the stars in the sky that Hajime dreams of hanging in those big eyes.

Tooru rushes him in the store, proclaiming various things like time waits for no man! and, it’s the last night of my childhood! as they pick out milkbread and pocky and lychee ramune and all the other things Oikawa won’t have in Argentina. They’re still poking around six minutes before closing, and the cashier gives them a withering glare that sends the setter into a fit of quiet giggles. Oikawa’s laughing is pretty, and Hajime resigns it to memory, keeping careful note of it for later– even though he’d really prefer to keep it, to have and to hold forever. They crack the cold ramune open outside and it fizzes sticky all over the setter’s slender fingers. Iwaizumi calls him an idiot like always and everything in the world is right. 

They wash their hands in the Oikawa house upstairs, quietly so as to avoid detection. The setter’s room is a mess– luggage only half packed, Aoba Johsai jersey slung across a chair, glow-in-the-dark star stickers on the ceiling from when he was scared of the dark peeling, everything unkempt. Socks aren’t in matching pairs in his suitcase, his Best Setter Award from junior high hanging tilted on the wall, blankets askew. It really only hits when he sees Oikawa’s volleyball shoes tucked neatly into the suitcase: he’s leaving. Possibly forever.

Fuck. Hajime loves him and he’s never gonna know.

Tooru decides after half an hour that packing is boring and also sad and it feels like a sear, red-hot and electric when he grabs Hajime’s hand to pull him outside. Too close. Not close enough. He hops onto his bike, Aoba-Johsai teal, and tells the spiker to get on, right behind him.

“We’ve tried this before. You always get too tired.”

“Iwa-chan, I’m big and strong now and I can totally cycle you to wherever I want to go.” Oikawa protests. He’s right, and Hajime isn’t sure he wants him to be.

“Besides,” The setter continues, “It’s a surprise.”

Despite his insistence, Hajime is the one pedaling uphill with Tooru’s arms wrapped around him within five minutes. His calves ache, burning under tan skin, a sheen of sweat along bare arms. The workout still isn’t enough to distract him from the secret buried inside his voicebox, though, and his best friend’s arms glow pale in the moonlight, fingers pressed into Hajime’s torso. They burn holes right through to his skin, cool through his shirt which is altogether too thick and far too thin. Oikawa’s chin rests on Iwaizumi’s bare shoulder, scorching and distracting, and the setter murmurs a myriad of facts Hajime won’t remember in the morning, pointing out constellations and telling him about the Mars rovers; Iwaizumi is too busy noticing the starlight that catches in Oikawa’s eyes, soft on his skin, reflecting off his hair, to care about anything in the sky. The pair emerges at the top of the hill and Hajime curses as he throws the bike aside, muscles aching, Tooru scrambling off him and the burn of his touch ebbing. Oikawa grabs his face. “Look, Iwa-chan,” he whispers, and tilts Hajime’s chin towards the sky.

He is sure the earth must be a tiny dot. The darkness stretches from end to end and the milky way is sprinkled across it like salt or snow, a trillion celestial suns dotting the cosmos. The moon hangs heavy and cold and Iwaizumi is reminded of the Chinese fairytale of Chang’e, the memory flitting by from a mythology elective. She steals a pill of immortality and is banished to the moon for all eternity. Her husband Hou Yi watches her from earth anyway. Hajime wonders if the trajectory of their lives is the same as his own, Oikawa always chasing things that cannot be held, trapped on the moon for eternity. Hajime will watch him from earth anyway. Hajime will watch him in Argentina from the TV, watch him lose and lose again until eventually he wins, watch Tooru win everything and anything forever and ever and love him all the same from his view on the ground. But just for a little longer, the moon is far, and they can look at it together.

The cicadas are chirping and the two lay in the grass, sipping the last of their ramune, passing the box of pocky back and forth as they stare at the stars. Hajime stares at the empty bottle like it has answers.

“I wanted to take you to the planetarium, before you left.” He admits, voice gruff. “They have all the shit you like, the constellations and stuff. I wanted you to see them.” He does not say, I wanted to see them together. He does not say, I wanted to capture all of those stars and hang them in your eyes. He does not say, I wanted those eyes full of stars to close for a moment so I could kiss you, find a way to say I love you, hold you, never let you go. But all the love he feels is laced into every word, hoarse with adoration, and he wonders if Oikawa catches it. He doesn’t look over in time to see the setter’s face screw up in tears, flush creeping up his cheeks.

“Fuck.” Tooru mumbles, finding his way into Hajime’s arms just like he always does. “I’m so happy I have you, Iwa-chan. I don’t know how to tell you, I just–” He wipes his eyes, cheek burning against Iwaizumi’s bare collarbones. “Thank you for being the greatest best friend in the whole wide world.”

Hajime feels his stomach twist, but his heart still beats warm and steady and certain that he is home.

“And,” Oikawa murmurs, head nestled against his best friend’s shoulder, “We have all the stars anyone could want right here.”

The silence is almost comfortable, almost perfect, with the boy he loves tucked safely up against his collarbone, brown hair tickling his jaw, the warm summer night brushing up against their skin and soaking through. But Iwaizumi’s skin is being burned everywhere Oikawa touches, where his cheekbone sears against his neck, where his chin surely scorches his bare shoulder through his tank top, where his arm wraps around his back and clings to his side, where their legs tangle oh-so-slightly in the grass. The smolder coalesces into a glassy marble, hot on Iwaizumi’s tongue: I love you. It aches. Everything aches, yearning, hungry for just a little more than he can have, insatiable by nature, stinging around the edges. I love you seems serrated now, thorny and caught in the flesh of his tongue, unable to escape and begging to be released. The silence is almost comfortable. But it hurts, too, clawing its way into his flesh with the longing for just a little more.

Iwaizumi Hajime has never been good with words. Oikawa tries, just like always.

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa breaks the spiker from his anguished reverie. “Iwa-chan, this isn’t enough.”

Hajime turns his head to examine his face, swallowing the panic that threatens to explode. “Huh? What does that mean?” He says flatly, emotionless, bracing himself for the sting.

“Fuck. That came out wrong, fuck, it’s just, Iwa–” And for the first time, Iwaizumi really sees him. The boy he loves, shaking. Face flushed. Eyes shining. The tremble of his lower lip, moreso on the left side. The goosebumps on his pale forearm even on such a warm night. Oikawa bites his lip, hard, fingers trembling against his best friend’s skin.

“Iwa-chan, you’re the greatest best friend in the entire world, and it’s not enough.”

“I know.” Iwaizumi mumbles after a moment. “Obviously. You have dreams, and there’s Argentina, obviously–”

“No– fuck– I mean–”

Hajime stares at the ground. Hard. “It’s fine, Shittykawa, I get it–” 

He is cut off by a kiss.

Oikawa Tooru crushes his lips into Iwaizumi like he is dying. His fingers find purchase, clinging onto the black tank top, tangling in his hair, finding lines along his jaw, begging, pleading, stay . Let this be okay. His lips are soft against his best friend’s chapped ones and he squeezes his eyes tighter closed than they need to be, too afraid to see. It’s I love you in a thousand ways that neither of them are quite sure how to say. Hajime tangles his fingers in the other boy’s hair, pulling him close, holding all of him, and Tooru is the one to pull away. The one to confess a secret held and kept for as long as he can remember. “Iwa-chan. You are the greatest best friend in the whole wide world, and I don’t want you to be my best friend.” The setter is shaking. Tears threaten.

“I’m in love with you, Iwa-chan.” He whispers. 

Dead silence.

“Tell me it’s stupid.” Oikawa laughs brokenly. “I know it’s stupid, Stupidkawa being stupid, I know, I know– ”

Hajime kisses his best friend again, every cell in his body screaming to pull that boy closer, hold him tighter, cling to him until he never thinks he’s stupid ever again. It’s rough and hungry and confused and scared, and Iwaizumi Hajime has never been good with words but he’s sure he’ll die if he doesn’t say it, sure he’ll explode.

“I’m so fucking in love with you.” Hajime tells him, holding him so close, staring at those big brown eyes. “I’m so fucking in love with you, Oikawa, I love you more than anything.” 

Tooru’s face is pink and sweet and wet with tears and he whispers, “I love you more than anything, too.”

“Can I kiss you again?” Hajime’s voice is rough. He isn’t good with words. He doesn’t know how to say everything he feels and knows to be true. Doesn’t know how to tell Tooru he’s the center of the universe. But he can see in his best friend’s eyes and all the sparkle in them that he already knows.

“Yeah.” Oikawa whispers, and for a moment, everything in the world is right.

So continues the greatest adventure that never truly ends.

______

The new kid moves away from the house across the street when Iwaizumi is eighteen.

There’s no moving van this time. Tooru hugs Hajime tight in front of the blue Iwaizumi house and they hold hands the whole car ride in the backseat. They both do their best not to cry. Change is a part of life, one they’re both well aware of by now. 

Hajime gives the love of his life one last secret kiss in the airport. Their fingers untangle as Oikawa says goodbye, vanishing into a dream. But he’s never really gone. He’ll be scared of stupid things just like always, work himself to the bone just like always, get stupid confessions just like always. Hajime’s prince is becoming a king, and he couldn’t be prouder. And when Tooru has caught every shooting star he’s ever wished on, won everything and flown to the moon a million times, he’ll come running home. Gold medals will hang from his hands and clank together with the sound of victorious return, that thousand-watt smile on his face even after all this time, his hair still soft and shiny as always, milk chocolate eyes still the prettiest sight in the whole world.

Iwaizumi Hajime has never been good with words, but he says I love you at the airport anyway.

And, goodbye.

And, I can’t wait to see you again.

______

I hope u guys liked it! I got so obsessed with telling their story over time and it ended up being thirteen pages long on google docs, font size eleven in the span of about 24 hours lmao.

Also, I'm not 100% sure it's technically six of anything. six ways to say you're my everything just sounded like a cool title. roll with it pls

Thanks for reading !!!

[biomic]

Hi! I see a lot of screenshots and such from your blog for things like (I believe) Kamen Rider(?) I might be wrong please forgive me if so. I have always had a sort of vague interest in sentai media but never knew good hopping on points, do you have any personal recommendations for where an absolute beginner might jump in to watch shows like that?

if you're interested in tokusatsu, you can really start anywhere that looks cool or interesting to you! most seasons, aside from some anniversaries and the very rare sequel show, are pretty self-contained for the most part. diehard fans will make a big deal out of "good and bad starting points" but the truth is every show has been someone's first and hooked them on the genre, even the "bad" seasons (the poor quality of which is often exaggerated by fandom anyway) or the experimental entries not indicative of the wider franchise they're part of

but! if you want some real beginner friendly, you'll-probably-have-fun-with-this toku, my go-to recs for The Big Three™:

if you want to follow a team of heroes grow together as they fight evil in increasingly silly scenarios, super sentai's probably the series for you (and my favorite ^_^)

watch kiramager if you want a straightforward throwback to classic sentai. it's a back-to-basics season that gives you a good baseline of what sentai as a whole can be, while elevated enough by its stellar cast and infectious energy so as to never feel generic

shinkenger takes a more dramatic approach to the usual sentai formula, following a team of samurai recruited to serve under a lord who isn't telling them everything he knows. an incredibly stylish show that's almost sure to leave an impression

kamen rider began as a tragic hero, kidnapped by the villainous organization shocker and turned into a cyborg against his will, ultimately escaping and using his newfound abilities to put an end to their evil. since the original story, kamen rider has gone through a whole host of various different tones and storylines, arguably becoming the most versatile of the big franchises, though certain elements remain consistent like the near ever-present bug motif or our heroes using powers derived from evil for the sake of good

created in the wake of the 2011 tohoku earthquake disaster, kamen rider fourze was made with the goal to make children smile again, and that desire led to something really special. arguably The Power of Friendship™ show to end all others, and while its upbeat tone might not exactly be in line with Classic Kamen Rider™, it stands as a great entry point thanks to the passion behind it and its clear love for the genre

probably best experienced as blind as possible, kamen rider build is a rollercoaster of a series full of high stakes, mystery, intrigue, and Heated Drama Between Men™. if you want something more serialized that'll keep you on the edge of your seat throughout, build's one of the very best

i also wanna mention kamen rider gotchard, the currently airing series! we're only 8 episodes in at the time of this post, so you could catch up quick while still going through the backlog. very much a back-to-basics season, introducing pokemon-style creatures for our protagonists to catch in addition to the usual superheroics. it's been pretty cute so far :)

ultraman is a sci-fi series that typically follows a defense team created to defend the earth from aliens and kaiju, aided by the giant of light, ultraman. as opposed to the other two franchises where there's often a serial plot to follow and a centralized villain faction, ultra typically thrives with telling standalone sci-fi stories, usually aligning with a show's overarching theme and often compared to shows like star trek or the twilight zone, though recent seasons have been more willing to switch up the format

ultraman x is for anyone who's ever asked, "but... what if we could be friends with godzilla?" young XiO scientist daichi becomes bonded with the alien ultraman x and work together to protect the earth and fight for a future where humans, aliens, and kaiju can coexist. to me this is like, the platonic ideal of what ultraman is, and a perfect starting point because of it. also features several crossover episodes with past ultra seasons throughout the show, but it's all still very new-viewer friendly and could even entice you to check out some of those shows yourself!

ultraman orb, the 50th anniversary of the series, changes course by making the defense team a background component in favor of following amateur investigators and the mysterious, lone wanderer who's suddenly entered their lives (hint: he's ultraman). another iconic entry in the Heated Drama Between Men Cinematic Universe and a nice balance between ultra's classic status quo and a more modern ongoing narrative

i'd also be remiss not to mention the currently airing ultraman blazar, which i unfortunately have not been able to keep up with due to outside circumstances but have heard NOTHING but glowing praise for. it's simulcast on youtube every week with english subtitles AND an optional english dub!

pretty much all of these can be snagged over at nyaa(.)si, and x and orb can be watched legally over on tubitv(.)com!

[theyilinglaozus]

I am so happy that the Godzilla: Minus One team won their Oscar but oh my god. Looking up the pictures of them at the Oscars is just filling me with joy because they are so happy!

They all brought a Godzilla figure with them (Takashi Yamazaki has been bringing one with him to various events, and even gifted one to Steven Speilberg, who saw the film three times and told Yamazaki how much he loved it!) But seeing as tonight was a special occasion for them all, Yamazaki brought a very special Godzilla with him - one that was dressed to the nines with his own bow tie!

But if that wasn’t incredible enough, the crew took it one step further by even dressing in the fashion of the big guy himself. They all walked the red carpet dressed to impress - especially with their own Godzilla styled shoes.

This is the first time in history that a Japanese Godzilla movie has even received an Oscar nomination, let alone win one. But with Godzilla: Minus Ones well deserved win, we see Japans first visual effect winner at the Oscars in history! And in my opinion, it’s one which is very much deserved.

To me, this is perhaps the best win of the night — so many people are loving it to see an icon from their childhood, one which brings so many fond memories of watching with family and friends, win big at this event. Godzilla movies have been with many their whole lives — the first airing in 1954 in Japan, just years after the Second World War and acting as a commentary on nuclear weapons during a time where Japan was very much recovering from the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings — so it is no surprise why people are loving this win so much.

[crtter]

I'm curious, I've been following you a minute now and what is Iyami from? and what is it about him that makes you so lustful?

Iyami is a character from the 60s gag manga Osomatsu-kun and its animated adaptations, including the most recent one, Osomatsu-san!

Despite being virtually unknown in the west, Osomatsu-kun is very, very well-known and beloved in Japan (think something like Scooby-Doo or Wacky Races) and a big part of it is due to Iyami! It was aimed at kids and teens and it was about the wacky hijinks of the Matsuno brothers, a group of identical sextuplet fourth graders. Iyami was a supporting character and minor antagonist, a sly con man who’s always trying to make a quick buck out of the Matsunos with the help of his street urchin friend Chibita.

However, Iyami ended up being the most well-known character of the franchise, rising to main character status due to his trademark habit of striking a funny pose when he’s startled, the “sheeh” which became somewhat of a meme in 60s Japan! It was so famous they got the Beatles to do it when they visited Japan and Godzilla did it in a movie.

Osomatsu-san is much more well known to western audiences, being an spin-off more geared towards a young adult audience and set 10-odd years into the future with the sextuplets each having their own distinct personalities. It’s also pretty well liked on its own in Japan, having first aired in 2015 and having its third season wrap up in 2021, although the third movie of the series just aired a few months ago and future seasons not being off the table! In it, Iyami is again in a supporting role but he’s still pretty great (at least to me!) and has been my favorite ever since I’ve first watched the show in 2016.

As to why he makes me go full unga bunga caveman, I guess he just embodies a lot of characteristics I like! I love goofy characters, I love cartoony villains, I think wonky teeth is a super cute trait… he’s just the perfect silly guy to me!

[colossal-niamh]

Just a big list of some stuff I think is neat

I haven't been super active on here in a minute so I'm just gonna lighting round a bunch of stuff I've been watching/reading X-Men '97- Fucking incredible. This is probably my favorite piece of non comic superhero media since Spectacular Spider-Man. The animation, the melodrama, the narrative showcasing the struggles of building a better tomorrow and existing in a world where your existence is perceived as a threat. Can't wait for season 2 The Crow (1994)- Wanted to get to this before the remake comes out. This is very much a situation where I procrastinated on watching something I knew I'd like and when I finally got around to it I went "Yeah I was right I liked it a lot!" The Crow is equal parts mournful as it is hopeful for a better tomorrow, a balancing act between the grief of loss and celebration of life. A damn shame we lost Brandon Lee so young because he was enthralling the entire film, an irreplaceable talent. The Venture Bros- I was making my way through the series on my own for a good while now. Showing it to some irl friends gave me the excuse to rewatch it all before I see the final season because I LOVE Venture Bros. it has firmly cemented itself as one of my favorite shows ever. I can't even get into it here or this will just become a Venture Bros gush fest. X-Terminators (2022)- Literally just read this today, what a delightful little book. it's a bit weird dropping in here as the book's smack dab in the middle of the nearly finished Krakoa era of the X-Men books. Luckily this needs little to no context as it's 4 of most fun women in the X-Men cast cracking jokes and kicking Dazzler's shitty ex in the dick. Also said ex is a literal blood sucking vampire Shin Ultraman- The last of Hideaki Anno's Shin trilogy I needed to see. Ultraman is admittedly the one I'm least familiar with out of the tokusatsu big 3, but this film made me far more interested in it than I was before. a great action flick about keeping the flame of hope lit even in dire situations. I liked all of the Shin movies but here's how I'd rank them; 1. Shin Godzilla 2. Shin Ultraman 3. Shin Kamen Rider Steven Universe- Soooo, I was one of those kids that listened to shitty criticism of SU back when it was airing and it ruined my perception of the show for years. It took until recently to realize the critics I listened to were not only bad at media analysis (and just a bad person in general) but also outright lying about the contents of the show. to rectify this mistake I've been rewatching SU and man, I was so wrong about this show. It's exceptional stylistically and narratively, and teaches some genuinely well thought out life lessons to it's target age demographic. It's not garbage, it's great! RRR- Admittedly I watched this further back than anything else on this list but that doesn't matter because YOU NEED TO SEE RRR! This movie is 3 hours of distilling the power of friendship and anti-colonial sentiment into the most Dudes Rock movie ever put to film. by the end I was screaming my head off like a crazy person for 20 minutes straight. what are you even doing here reading this? GO WATCH RRR!

[duckieduccss]

im here for revenge!

do you have any specific things you'd like to share about your versions of the cyborg space chicken and goofy beetle god that you would like to share? 🎤🎤

Aaaa (1st ask in a longtime jumpscare) /j

Anything specific??? Hmmm…i think i might have some!!

First off, how they FIRST MET!!!!

To be more accurate, how they first bumped into each other by fate lol. So things do sorta go the same as for the events of Godzilla vs. Megalon. But with a twist, Megs pretty much got forced to go out & seek revenge on the people who disturbed the peace of the Seatopians (he didnt want to cuz he was in the middle of a SUPER long beauty sleep when he was awaken again). But he did so anyway, & did his best to act tough. Tho he isnt all one (but hey he tries) & does do his best & actually boosts his ego a bit after first taking down the annoying oversized robot. Gigan just happened to be chilling off somewhere else but got dragged by Godzilla actually & Gigan (being the angry short evil guy he is) goes to confront Godzilla (sizing him up; ironic cuz my Gigan is really short but will still fight literally anyone & be pushy for one until it happens lol). Godzilla isnt having it so they just leave & Gigan’s pissed but then notices Megalon trying to take down the other guy. So Gigan goes “well might as well help” & so he does. Megalon’s in a pretty good mood so they actually bond over something together (hence the iconic high five between each other). But well we know what happened. (Megalon gets his as$ kicked (traumatized for a bit there) & Gigan felt embarrassed & left; both losing the fight.

Poor Megs was actually too afraid to go back home from fear that he’d get scolded at for what he failed to do. He isnt much of a tough guy in reality even though he really tried. If anything, he wanted to make his people happy & seeing how much they saw him as their protector so it was almost more like he failed to do his purpose. Gigan ended up not actually being that far away & spotted Megs looking sad. Gigan recognized him & decided to talk to him. Megs was really nervous at first but surprised when Gigan actually apologized for leaving so soon & admitted that he had a lot fun fighting alongside him. That meant a lot to Megs in someone else saying they really wanted to be with him. He confessed to Gigan that he didnt feel as confident about his fighting & being a more confident (bug) himself. Gigan then proposed a deal to him agreeing to help him be a better fearsome kaiju by being his fighting partner. Megs happily accepted (& that’s where the giant hugs began)

(Btw Megs did go back home only for him to be really scolded by the Seatopian leader (he ended up going back to his bed curled up into a ball of disappointment)

As for other things:

Both of them have been very good friends actually. Megs actually really looks up to Gigan (as a role model) & once again ironic cuz Megs is considerably bigger than Gigan but ofc his ego & boosted overwhelming confidence is much more. Gigan does also have a soft spot for Megs. He’d be very mean or arrogant towards others but the moment he’s with his best buddy, he’s quite literally a different person. Megs is really a sweet guy as well & will sometimes do things (especially for Gigan) that admittedly makes him (Gigan) question things👀

Also Megs’ the best hugger ever. He’s best known for his big bear hugs (& his own love language of saying he loves you). He always does it for Gigan & even though he hates to admit it out loud, Gigan does love his hugs so much he actually craves them & even when he’s in a bad mood/having a bad day, Meg’s can usually tell & beforehand asking “Wanna hug??”

They like to goof around (either messing with the humans or with other kaiju) or do whatever they feel like (for example doing dumb “what if” experiments that cause a lot of destruction or some sorta big consequence as a result & then act all “oopsie my hand slipped😊”. They pretty much be gay & do crime (as of now they arent aware of the first part dont tell them that yet)

Both are very good “friends” right now but wont be much of a surprise until things get more between them both

Also may i mention too, Meg’s level of imitation so far is as much of enough to make him feel more brave to not sleep with the night light on (but both him & Gigan are working on it)

Anyway that’s the end, i do intend to go more into each one eventually (about how I interpret them ^^)

[jocia92]

Dan Stevens couldn't say no to Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire. Part of the reason was that he loved the character he got to play; the other part was that the role was literally written for him.

"Adam Wingard, the director, and I have been good friends since we made The Guest. We've been talking about many things over the years but not nearly on this scale," the British actor explained. "Usually, they were weirder, indie-sized things that have yet to come to fruition, but then Adam started getting into these big blockbuster movies. I loved what he did with the last one, but with this, I think it's fair to say that he and Simon Barrett, who also wrote The Guest with Adam, created and wrote Trapper with me in mind, hoping that I would be lured in. Honestly, it wasn't hard for them to lure me."

... Unlike frenemies Godzilla and Kong, Stevens and Hall have been firm friends for decades, which is one reason he thinks they work so well on screen.

"I loved working with Adam again, but Rebecca is involved here, and I've known her since we were about 18 or 19. We were at college together," he enthused. "Brian Tyree Henry is someone I've been friends with for many years, but we've never worked together. I adore him, and I think he's a fantastic actor. To get to come and essentially play with a group of friends in such a fun world was pretty automatic for me to say yes."

"Rebecca and I were roommates after college, but at university, I think the only thing we did together was a production of Macbeth, where we were Mr. and Mrs. M. One of my first professional theatre gigs was working for her father, Sir Peter Hall, on a production of As You Like It. We also did a movie called Permission a few years later when we were both living in New York. We go way back, so it was lovely to step into this with such an old mate and have another mate direct it. We had a huge amount of fun on and off screen, which I hope comes through the lens."

While Stevens wouldn't call himself an aficionado of Godzilla or Kong lore, he has been drawn to it since childhood.

"There was that big Godzilla movie in 1998 with the Puff Daddy track. It was prime teen time for me, and I remember seeing that in theaters," the actor recalled. "There was also the Peter Jackson King Kong movie a few years later, so the two definitely loomed pretty large in my adolescence. Also, being aware of movie history and Godzilla being very much part of that fabric, particularly the B movie world. If you look at any books relating to the history of sci-fi, whether it was Mechagodzilla or whatever, I was always aware of that."

"With so much Godzilla content out there right now, it's a great time to talk about it. The mythology endures, and it endures for a reason. It has something that speaks to our age, whatever that age is. Ever since it was created, it seems to resonate in the world."

Stevens wanted to work with Wingard again since they made The Guest a decade ago, and he recalled how his filmmaking friend sold the concept to him.

"He described the scene where Trapper goes and commandeers the HEAV, which stands for Hollow Earth Aerial Vehicle, and flies it into a flock of creatures that are humming with dangerous electricity that fly through and become sort of instrumental in the climax of the movie. He basically narrated that scene to me, and it sounded very cool," he said. "Then I read the script and to introduce a character by having him drop 60 feet off a crane into Kong's mouth to help take a tooth out, I thought. 'That is a cool way to introduce a character.' I wouldn't say the whole thing is me, but there's something in Trapper that I enjoyed bringing out in a world like this. You've got a character who's optimistic, pretty happy-go-lucky, unfazed, seen it all, and he's been around the block, and he's not going to be too freaked out by anything. That's always a nice character to have in the mix in a team-up movie like this. The whole thing was a privilege to step into a character like this that felt so easy and comfortable and do that with such great people."

Stevens knew exactly what real-world and pop culture references and influences he wanted to use to bring Trapper to life.

"A man-child was a big touchstone," he laughed." There's a sprinkling of Ace Ventura in there, and a bit of Dr. Doolittle and Bear Grylls is probably in there, too. There are a lot of fun characters in the mix. I liked the idea of this very optimistic Brit because we're not always known for our optimism. Trapper is a reasonably international character. He probably left the UK when he was quite young. We definitely had a scene where he told a story about his time in Africa, which didn't make the movie's final cut, but it gave us some context. He's been to the jungles and the desert; he's an adventurer and has that element of being pretty chipper in the face of enormous peril."

The actor, also known for Downton Abbey, Beauty and the Beast, and Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga, thinks Trapper has more escapades to enjoy. Like Hall, he'd love another appearance in the Monsterverse franchise, whose first four films grossed $1.96 billion worldwide.

"The adventures of Trapper would be wild, whether it's a prequel or a sequel," Stevens enthused. "I would love to see more of Trapper, and I'm very touched that you said that. He's a character I enjoyed, and I think you could send Trapper almost anywhere, and it would end up being fun, funny, and weird. There's plenty of story there."

The actor reveled in Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire's visual and sonic designs, where Wingard, a director not shy to rave about his love of the 80s, leaned into the era and what it offered creatively.

"There was definitely artwork he'd created going in that they had in what they called the War Room. Wall-to-wall, there were designs of all the creatures and the worlds we would see. A lot of the time, that's green or blue screen effects that we're not really seeing, although some of the sets were real, and sometimes we were going into the jungle," Stevens recalled. "That's a hallmark of Adam Wingard, the Vaporwave synth soundtrack, the blues, purples, and pinks in the lighting. There are so many great 80s movies infused in there, as well as anything from John Carpenter and maybe some John Woo. You're in good hands when you're with Adam because it will be steeped in great and authentic movie references, have a great soundtrack, and look cool. That allows you to relax into whatever you're doing and throw yourself in. The outcome is just a wild ride."

The actor isn't just grateful to be reunited with friends and creatives he adores and admires; he's also happy that it falls during the tenth-anniversary celebration of the first film he and Wingard made together.

"I didn't realize it was ten years, but I knew it was coming on for that. They did a fun thing last April as kind of an April Fool's gag but also kind of not? They released a soundtrack to The Guest 2, which absolutely slaps. Adam is a huge fan of many of the bands invited to contribute to the first film's great soundtrack, so he invited his favorite synth acts to contribute a track to a fake sequel," Stevens explained. "They issued an LP of it, and I think Adam and Simon had worked on an outline of what this movie might be. They issued that to these various artists who had composed some great music. It really is a good standalone album."

He concluded, "The Guest is still finding an audience, and that's delightful. You can't expect that from everything you do, but it's special when one endures like that. I'm particularly fond of it. It came along at a particular time when I had an appetite to do something very different from what I'd done previously. It ticked a lot of boxes and challenged me in several ways. It stays out there as a great calling card for the kind of weird things that I like to do. I don't know if there will be a sequel to The Guest specifically. I know they've got various plans, whether it was a mini-series or a movie, but I certainly hope to work with both Adam and Simon again in some capacity, so never say never."

[cuprohastes]

Lunch In Space

Part 1

Wherein we are introduced to two of our main characters, the perils of interspecies cafeterias and the alternate uses of dog jumpers, and the Narrator is too self-obsessed to introduce themselves properly

4am, in the vast darkness of space, the lightless void that's darker than the stygian depths.

Apart from the stars. They're actually pretty bright. Famously so come to think of it. Also all the lights on the station, so you can look at it and admire it and spot any fresh new exciting holes that have appeared.

And if you're on shift, like me, use those handly lights to find the cafeteria and very carefully pick through the offerings because believe me, while Yarrick won't kill you, your body will basically say 'What the heck?' and treat it like a nice big plate of Silicone jelly and you will be experiencing a whole new and exciting set of sensations, and hey, sometimes you just have to clutch the toilet seat and scream a bit: We've all been there.

So I get my nice human safe food, and an extra roll of purple stuff that's not bread but it might as well be, and relocate my heiny to the big table by the window, the one that's always a bit chilly which is why me and Atrix and Atrix are usually the only ones who sit there.

I mean Atrix does because she's comfortable with a little extra cooling, and Atrix is there because he's not driving, he's just along for the ride.

"Yo." I say to my good buddy, the giant purple kangaroo dinosaur. She gives me a Yo back and dual finger guns.

Atrix the pocket lizard sticks his snout out and makes grabby paws at the roll.

I slide it over to his wifey, the purple lizard woman with the colour changing face and a degree in Astromechanics (Also horticulture, Art History and apparently, Interspecies erotica).

"You're over feeding him." Big Atrix says. Small Atrix grakkles. He has opinions and he really wants that bun, but then again if he gets too fat he has to move out, change gender and start paying taxes.

I also know that Godzilla here always skimps on the husband food because she knows I'll swing by with a little something something for her pocket hubby.

"Yeah well, someone has to be the fun Aunt." I say cheerfully. You're always the Aunt with the Atrix, regardless of gender.

I settle in, to eat a lovely meal of... what appears to be chicken flavoured... it's... hmm. Well, it's chicken flavoured and guaranteed not to cause anything to go a funny colour and fall off. It actually tastes great, but I'd describe it as being yes, a thing.

"So," I say around the food flavoured... stuff, "Picked a good solid Traditional Human Name yet?". My friend bobs her head again: Practicing her human physical emotes.

-This should be good. Atrix are good people but they don't have spoken names. They have a word that means 'I'm gonna show you name' then they change their face colours like a cuttlefish. They literally just turn into another person for a moment: This drives most species nuts.

Humans find it hilarious. Atrix can see the funny side. Humans and Atrix get along a little too well for everyone else's comfort and That's The Way We Like It™️.

Big n' Purple thinks about it, then says, "I was thinking... Gondolier Dottirsdottir, or maybe Luminal Effervescence."

OK so the Atrix tend to go for names that are just really fun to say. hence the Secretary General of the Combined Human-Atrix Interstellar Survey, a really big female with as much or more gravitas as a class two black hole - a very serious pocket pal all 'round - being named Pingbing O'Candyfloss.

I consider it. "People will call you Gondy, or Lumy." I point out to her as she feeds purple... bread-y stuff... to the iguana-sized male that lives in her belly pouch. He grakkles at me. He's a sociable little guy, quite chatty, I just have no idea what he's saying. Gondy grackles back and he does Upsies arms.

"Gondy. Ahm-hum. That sounds good. Gondy." she says trying it on. I can see she's definitely enjoying the mouth sound.

She hauls her hubbins out of her pouch, which is covered by her overalls and a big apron flap so he can sleep or play games on her phone.

"Did you... put him in one of those dog jumpers?" I ask as she puts her guy on the table. He looks smug and shows off. It's a small, chihuahua sized Christmas sweater. It's currently May, or close enough. But I'm not going to harsh his mellow. The little dude's obviously stoked to be a fashionista.

Gondy bobs her head looking pleased. "I'm thinking he should be Raxyplank Magellan. Raxy's a cute name." she says.

Raxy looks up and says "Rax!" around a mouthful of hubby food. Well, I can't fault that. At least he gets a name he can say.

For an Atrix male, he's pretty adventurous - He'll talk to people and even come out and walk around if he can keep one eye on Gondy.

Traditionally, or "Back in the day" - Several tens of thousands of years ago, until an Atrix got big enough to be safe, there was a good chance that something would camper up and make a meal of them.

So they have a general resistance to being out in the open, where it's cold and there might be cool alien eagles or space-lizard foxes.

Luckily when they get big enough they develop pouches and to they pick a male out and carry them around for safety and to have someone to talk to and hold shiny rocks (I'm a bit fuzzy on the finer details), so you almost always see two Atrix, even if one of them is usually hiding.

And now Raxy is hanging out with us like a regular little dude and getting crumbs on his ugly Christmas sweater. It is in all ways a pretty nice moment.

Anyway that's about when the station blew up...

[grimmgrinningghouls]

I'm back from GxK!! heres my thoughts

I sadly had quite a bit spoiled but nothing can compare to seeing the movie in person, it was sooo much cooler in the theatre.

I kinda knew going in there wouldn't be much Goji, but I did really like when he was on screen. and tbh I don't quite get why people are villainizing him so hard for killing Scylla?? Like she was just destroying things for funzies. She was causing unneeded destruction so Godzilla had enough of her shit and took her out. Tiamat I can kinda understand but she also could've just ran away instead of fighting him.

His evolved design grew on me HARD, like I almost prefer it to his original design. The pink was soooo cool and I loved the look of his atomic breath, I even liked him being thinner. I adored the glowing eyes too, like that was so fucking cool. I do kinda wish we saw him using his thagomizer but I liked it nevertheless, for me its not about how much we see Godzilla, its about how he's used and I feel like he was used pretty well in this movie.

And I'd also like to issue a formal apology to Kong and his fans. I wasn't familiar with his game. Godzillas still my boy but I ended up really liking Kong, his story was really heartfelt. You could really empathize and relate to Kong throughout the movie, his story, emotions, and everything about him made me really like him, I also loved his bond with Suko.

this is also the first time I've genuinely liked the human characters in a monsterverse movie, really the first time I've actively wanted more of them. Loved Bernie and Trapper, more then I expected too. I assumed Trapper was just gonna be obnoxious since he was in the trailers but I really liked him. Bernie too, liked him a lot more then in GvK. I also ended up liking Jia a lot more then I expected too, she was a cool character. I liked her bonds and connections to the titans.

I do wish we saw more Mothra, but she was great when she was on screen. Loved seeing her and Godzilla on screen together again, I'd love to learn more about Mothra lore in the MV tbh.

As for villains, Skar king was pretty cool. He kinda got shat on in all the trailers so he caught me off guard seeing how ruthless he was, I wouldn't put him above Ghidorah but he was cool. I also liked Shimo and her big ass forehead, her size caught me off guard too, girlies massive. Visibly bigger then both Godzilla and Kong. I genuinely felt bad for her and seeing her get freed + find a new life as Kongs friend made me smile a bit.

I liked (most of) the fights too! I really liked the hollow earth 0 gravity fight, especially Godzillas part in it. I am for sure someone who prefers when the kaiju feel massive and have a ton of weight behind them, but that fight was so cool, Goji was badass and I loved seeing his evolved form in action.

The only fight I didn't like was the fight with Scylla, a 900,000 ton animal cannot move like that. That was a bit too silly even for me, and don't get me wrong I love a bit of silly monster fighting but meh. The godzilla suplex was funny as hell though, for sure unrealistic but funny so it passes. I liked the comedy a lot in the movie tbh, more then the other movies.

Also rq, I don't get why yall were calling the movie ugly?? Like some scenes kinda but it didn't look bad at all. The cgi was fine with me and I don't see why people called it a ps4 game, some shots were a bit wonky but not enough for me to really give a shit.

Overall? pretty good movie, I feel like the pacing could slow down a bit but I genuinely enjoyed myself a lot and had a total blast watching the movie. There was never a dull moment and I'd give it a solid 8/10.