#it wasn’t great. cause i’m not used to singing that low

[navysealt4t]

HAD HEART ATTACK. . JUST AUDITIONED FOR ADVANCED CHOIR 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

[pinkie-quinns]

rocker eddie/actor steve | exes to ????? (yearners?) | fame au p5

p1 p2 p3 p4 interlude p6

Steve says he's flying out to New York for meetings. That’s what he tells everyone. That’s what he does. He's courteous, even lets Eddie know he’s in the city, that he can maybe, maybe stop by his place later.

But he doesn’t tell Eddie he’s coming to the show.

He gets there late, hangs at the very back of the venue, the nosebleed cheap seats. He’s in uniform, black jeans and scraggled tee. Bit of liner under his eyes, baseball hat and shitty prop wig he stole from set. It should be enough for most people to not look at him twice.

It’s the worst spot he’s ever had at one of Eddie’s gigs, but he couldn’t take the “I’m with the band" seats Eddie had offered him. Like he’s still some kind of accessory. Couldn’t take the c-list celebrity box seats either. Cause, well– he’s not supposed to be here.

Eddie’s a blip on the stage from where Steve’s standing, but it makes his idiotic traitorous heart swoop all the same. He’s only been on tour for a month. Steve wasn’t supposed to miss him this bad.

He’s really not supposed to be here.

Eddie's solo stuff has always been too wordy, too raw. Like he’s Dylan in the body of a metal star. It makes Steve's gut sore.

It’s mostly songs from his latest album, at least. Seemed like Eddie had a bad run in with benzos last year. Which also kinda makes his gut sore.

Eddie plays the hits. It's been years but the ones from "Penitence" cut like fresh wounds. The crowd goes wild for Dead Weight. But Pavlov's got the one-up on Steve. Those first three chords still make him want to crawl out of his skin.

It’s nearing the end now and Eddie drops the band, walks up to the front of the stage with just the spotlight on him. He’s holding Lucky, the old pawn-shop acoustic Wayne got him when he was twelve. He used to strum it between joints in the back of the van.

He’s– he’s nervous.

He coughs into the mic. “Hey uh, um, I've got something special for tonight. I don’t really do covers and uh, especially not ones that–” He cringes, grits his teeth, “Well, this isn’t exactly my sound.”

It was unsettling how nervous he was. Steve could fill journals full all of Eddie’s fuck-ups and flaws (and he has, many, many times.) But performing? That was undeniable, coded into his DNA. Eddie was a great performer. He was never nervous on stage.

Eddie's hands tremor at the tuning keys. “But uh, someone couldn’t make it tonight- a um, well. An old friend.”

Shit.

“–And he really used to really love this one.”

Shit shit shit shit.

“So, uh, yeah. Sing along if you know it.”

Steve knows it. One chord in and he knows it–

It’s Dave fucking Matthews. Eddie hates Dave Matthews. He's the total opposite of anything Eddie considered worthy art. His sound, his look, his ability to fill stadiums with every guy that wears sandals in a 50-mile radius, everything.

More importantly, Eddie’s fans hate Dave Matthews. If they don’t, they keep that close to their chest. Hell, not even– Steve spent enough of his early twenties bopping around dive bars with Eddie's crowds. They'd take that shit to their grave.

Eddie's already on thin ice with most of them.

Steve knows most of them resented the experimental sound of the new album, knows sales are low. He’s heard enough of Eddie's 3 AM pillow talk bitching about it.

There’s multiple audible groans. Someone in front of Steve whispers, “What the actual fuck.” in total disbelief.

But Steve doesn’t register it. Not really. Not over the blood rushing in his ears. Over the sound of Eddie crooning, “Who’s got their claws in you, my friend? Into your heart I’ll beat again."

Truth was, he hadn’t listened to that song, that whole album, in over a decade.

Steve would start up the car, like always and “So Much to Say” would play, like always. But there were no loud puking noises from the passenger seat, no pile of empty, over-dramatic threats. Just dust in the sunlight where someone had loved him, once.

And he couldn't stomach it.

He can't stomach it now. Eddie in front of 13,000 people. Shaky and vulnerable and too-himself for them all to bear witness.

It’s– fuck. Steve’s nineteen and the bimmer’s out of gas and Eddie’s cursing this song out, but his hand is under Steve's sweater and it's warm.

The third verse now and Eddie's crooning about forgiveness, about begging and haste and “Holding you so, boy.”

"Boy". Not "Girl". Unmistakable.

Steve wonders if anyone noticed. Eddie’s not out, not really. But he dedicated a love song to an old friend. Maybe he is now.

Then it’s all too much. Too big for him to hold. The love and hurt and longing and bullshit and near-two decades worth of sludge dredging up his throat and crashing down, pulling him under.

Steve doesn’t wait for the song to end. He keeps his head down and skips out before the encore.

[sunnysidesevenup]

Moonlight Song: Chapter 2

prev. | next

The group jumps at the unexpected voice, although it takes Yuichi a moment to catch up to what’s going on. In the time where he’s blinking dumbly, Arlo has already swiped a startled hand in the direction of the voice, although the owner is easily able to dodge.

“My, I must have really startled you! My bad.” Lilia says, smiling at them. He puts his hands on his hips, ignoring the bewildered staring from the group. “I heard you need good singers who are free!”

Vil recovers quickly, composing himself first while everyone else is still coming down from being startled. “And… you’re offering, Lilia?”

“Of course! My voice is quite marvelous, even if it wasn’t quite what you were looking for in the VDC…” He gives Vil a slightly narrowed look, perhaps still a little miffed over not making it, although it seems to mostly be a joke. “I am part of the Pop Music Club, you know!”

Arlo’s startled look has narrowed into a withering glare, “I don’t even know you.” He says, pointedly crossing his arms.

Lilia remains unfazed by the words, “Ah, but it seemed like that wasn’t an issue when you were talking about it before!”

Yuichi sighs, “Lilia, you need to stop eavesdropping on people.” Having been startled enough times by the man, frankly, he’s used to it.

The fae in question simply giggles, “But where’s the fun in that?”

Vil just sighs. “Alright, well… it would be difficult to find many people this short notice, so we’re happy to have you, Lilia.”

Arlo’s expression makes it very clearly what he thinks of that particular notion, although he doesn’t say anything.

Yuichi, though, is confused. “Hey… why aren’t you asking Jade and Floyd?” He asks the shorter boy, who’s shoulders immediately stiffen.

“I don’t want them to come.” He says firmly.

“That’s what he said when I asked, as well.” Vil notes. “I’m not quite sure why you’re being so stubborn about that. They’re your friends, aren’t they?”

Arlo scowls. “They’ll just cause trouble. It’s complicated, okay?”

“How so?”

“They… don’t like my siblings.”

Vil frowns, “Your… siblings? That’s all?”

Arlo’s eyes dart to the ground, and he shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah.” He says.

“Well!” Lilia claps. “Since those two are out of the picture, I’ll happily lend my services!” He flashes a grin, “I already have someone in mind, so we’ll meet at the mirror chamber tomorrow morning! Bye, now~”

Before anyone can question him further, Lilia vanishes just as quickly as he came, leaving the group staring at the empty spot he left. Arlo kicks the ground slightly, frustrated. “Vil, what are the chances I’ll tolerate whoever he brings?” He asks.

Vil’s eyes shut tightly and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “With you? Very low.”

“Great.” The Pomefiore student scoffs. “Well, I’m done for the day.” With that, he spins on his heel and walks off, not even offering a goodbye.

Yuichi glances at Vil beside him. “Uh… it’s nice of you to help out.” He mutters quietly.

Vil is frowning at where his lowerclassman once was. “I have a bit of an ulterior motive, to be frank.” He admits, glancing over to the Ramshackle Prefect. When he sees Yuichi’s raised eyebrow, he offers further explanation. “Signing him up for a competition like this feels strange, doesn’t it? I’ve never even heard that stubborn boy sing.”

“Ah.” Yuichi nods. “That is strange.”

“Well, I assume we’ll figure it out.”

[elwenyere]

I would like to see who you stuck in an old guard au 👀

Thank you for the ask, Serie!!! Titles are from this list. I hope you enjoy the always-unfinished-but-much-beloved Old Guard AU (MCU, eventual Sambucky, canon-typical deaths and undeaths):

*****

The first time Sam Wilson died, he had the theme song from The Golden Girls stuck in his head.

Riley had been singing it into his combat boot while they suited up for the last mission: everyone had their own ways of channeling the pre-flight adrenaline, and Riley’s sounded like two cats going at it in an alley. Sam had rolled his eyes and chucked a towel at him at the time, but then sure enough, the fucking tune had been playing on a loop in his mind all the way from Kandahar. 

He couldn’t say for sure whether that had anything to do with his lapse in attention as they flew over a low stone wall just east of Belal. Much later, his mind would play tricks on him, adding to his nightmares a blur of movement and a flash like moonlight reflecting off metal. Had he seen it at the time and failed to register what it meant? Could there have been a moment - a split-second when a different choice might have saved their lives? Sam turned the question over and over, but no answer could ever be as final as what had happened: in the instant when it mattered, he hadn’t done shit. He’d flown them both straight into the path of the RPG.

That was the first time: a jagged line of fire tearing through his tissue as the combined voices of his dead wingman and Cynthia Fee thanked him for being a friend. 

But even when Sam woke up hours later, thrashing at the canvas sheet covering his face and causing the unit’s medic to leap backward with a choked-off curse, it would still be a full day - twenty-four hours of medical tests and conversations with increasingly concerned military superiors - before the other half of the truth sunk in. That he was alive again meant he was going to die again.

And again and again, according to the man who was sitting in front of him now. 

The dude looked exhausted - and this wasn’t Sam’s first tour, so he knew from exhausted. He’d been cussed at and screamed over by some of the most worn-out motherfuckers in the U.S. Army, but the guy sitting in front of him - all 200 pounds of muscle, thick beard, and furrowed brow - looked tired on a level that strained Sam’ ability to render in language. Bone-tired, his mind tried, and then he had to suppress a shudder as the sensation of fire and metal ripped through his insides again.

“I’m just not tracking with what you’re saying, man,” Sam said out loud, dropping the chain-of-command honorifics, because what the fuck. His best friend was in a body bag, and here he was, with a guard outside the door and not a scratch on his face, so he was pretty sure he couldn’t dig himself much deeper in shit than he already was. “You’re saying I actually died?”

“I know it’s a lot,” the man said. “And you’re in shock.”

Great fucking guess, Sam thought to himself. No shortage of goddamn expert medical opinions around here today. 

But even he wasn’t quite reckless enough to voice that observation where it could be used against him in a discharge hearing, so instead he asked,

“What did you say your name and rank were again?” And then, just belated enough to be pointed, “Sir?”

He expected a rebuke, or at least a scowl, but instead a small smile crept across the man’s face, sloughing off almost a decade of age as it grew.

“I didn’t,” he replied. “And I won’t: not here. My associates and I are going to take you somewhere safe, where we can explain the situation more fully. You’ll be safe with us.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Sam said calmly. “People are already pretty tense here, and I’m going to have enough to explain to my sister without going AWOL on top of it. You come back here with a signed order from my CO, and I’m at your service. Until then, I’m sitting right here.”

The smile on the man’s face turned a little sadder.

“My associates said you’d make me do this the hard way,” he said. And Sam barely had time to realize the man was moving for his gun before a sharp pain cracked through his skull and the whole tent went dark.

–

A hundred years passed before the next impression, or after it - a strip of rusted wire around his windpipe, a blade opening her curled muscle at the seam - and then thousands - the shield’s edge a red welt across his nape as he walked for leagues in the blistering sand - and then there was nothing but pain - white-hot, licking raw, split lashes through his nerves as his shoulder shredded and he burned from the inside, again and again and again.

When thoughts returned, they returned wrong, like someone else was having them too.

“Did you really have to go for the head, Rogers?” a woman’s voice was saying - familiar as the woozy wash of a concussion. “He’s taking an awfully long nap.”

“I forget how long it takes to come back when you’re new,” the man from the tent replied, sounding old and tired and only mildly apologetic for someone who’d shot Sam in the head.

And wait: something about that was definitely wrong.

Sam hurtled upward, breath punching through his lungs, and by the time he’d gotten his fists between himself and his captors, he recognized them all: the man and woman who’d fought each other to the death in a burnt-out building in Berlin, the ancient motherfucker who’d killed thousands before killing Sam. But something was wrong, still. Something was missing.

“Hey, pal,” the blonde man who’d been garroted was saying. “We’re here to help -”

“Where’s the other one?” Sam demanded. “Where’s the guy in the chair?”

All three of them tensed: a shift like the air convulsing inward toward the split shell of an IED. The man they’d called Rogers staggered, just slightly, as if he’d been caught in the blast.

“The guy in the chair,” the woman repeated. “You saw him?”

“I felt him,” Sam corrected. “I felt him screaming. I felt him dying. Where is he?”

The woman looked at the man who’d killed her - whom she’d killed - and he shook his head, his lips forming a quiet fuck. Then she looked over at Rogers, the briefest flash of pain crumpling her expression before she smoothed her features back into their deadly, porcelain calm.

“He was taken,” she said. “We don’t know where. We looked -”

“I lost him.” Rogers’ voice was heavier than ever, and Sam could hear the break in it now: the split bone in his center, ossified around a hole. “They were looking for me. They found him first.”

“Who is he?” Sam asked, because he could still see through the captured man’s eyes, still feel the captured man staring through his. I know him, he thought, and it echoed back from the dream: the man in the chair screaming as the missile split Sam’s chest into shards, I know him, I know him.

Rogers gave him another sad smile.

“His name’s Bucky,” he said. “And he’s immortal, like you.”

[sidecharactersdomatter]

Thoughts I had during TGCF S2 Ep 4

This’ll be another quick reaction ‘cause I have a desk to clean!

-Oooh!  Starting with the opening!

Previously on TGCF…

-Dim Sum night @ Paradise Manor!

-Man they didn’t even get a sip in

-He reassured Lang Ying

-Dude it was in a really small glass, so maybe it could’ve been to his liking if it wasn’t alcoholic

-Man that expression and tone made it seem like Hua Cheng made a really grave error

That noise when Qingxuan tilted their head

-Qingxuan is the wingman/woman

-For those of you who think he said, “Some sex allow indulgences” in the dub,  it’s actually “Some sects allow indulgences” which references the sects that practice cultivation, and I manage to catch that detail

-Licentious means related to promiscuous and sexual activity.

-A flashback to Ep 2

-That’s the advice on staying balance is basically what every patron ignores in Vegas

-He’s tricking him into getting the information for the dice portal

-“Enough San Lang!  Please stop teasing me.”  *In a sing-song voice*  No he will not~!  And XL said it so gently!!!!

-Man he fell for that favor all too quickly

-Just like transferring spiritual energy

-It’s a 12!

-It’s the music from EP 6 when they were both caught in the sandstorm!!!!

-He offered his dice!!!

-Man, hook line and sinker for XL

-“A few more rounds?” We all know what he was referring to~! ;3

-NYOOOM

-“San Lang, will you ever stop spoiling me?” *In a sing-song voice again*  No he will not~!

-Aww he doesn’t want to take advantage of his Ghost King

-Hi Qingxuan

-This is like removing your belt and getting into comfier clothes after going to town at a fancy restaurant with your folks

-No thoughts just Buff!Qingxuan, and he’s got great fashion sense

-Details~!  That’s literally all of us watching this!

-Yep told ya he’s got great fashion sense and imagine the montage Windmaster did just to sneak in

-This has the energy of seeing your roommate just pass out in your room of the flat

-Salacious means arousing to appeal to sexual imagination

-“I mean he called you his honored guest in front of everyone” “Jealous~?” - Jake the Dog, Burning Low, Adventure Time

-He didn’t forget at all

-They were talking about luck~

-Man that transition with the dice toss

-A really temporary gift

-Another 12

-That’s a lot of stairs

-Firebending

-No need to be savage Qingxuan

-Just like The dragon of the west, the Martial god of the west somehow has that energy and more foreshadowing for the series

-It looks like a Mayan mural

-No earthbending allowed

-The dice and tunnel are confusing them

-He rolled a 7!  Somebody go get Miguel and Tulio!

-It’s the iconic floor trap pitfall

-They made two craters like Wile E. Coyote!

-Oooh right on the skull!

-It’s a narrow tunnel!

-Cave in!

-LEECH WORMS!  

-Another animal hybrid the people in ATLA will get scared sh*tless over

-More firebending!

-Fire beats bug!

-Well those dice tiles were convenient

-Another 7!

-Another trap door!

-It’s a 4!

-The downside of partnering with Xie Lian everyone

-And he just effortlessly helps up Buff!Qingxuan

-I like how he doesn’t badmouth Hua Cheng’s trickery

I’m gonna to skip this next part of the EP because it’s offensive!  (You know the part I’m talking ‘bout)

-That’s gonna be another visit to the exfoliating facial masks

-Welcome to XL’s pain dude

-Dude, you didn’t bring him bad luck at all, he didn’t realize and it’s out of both of your control

-One man can’t sway the Windmaster’s luck, that gonna be another iconic quote

-Get yourself a friend like Qingxuan

-Yay another conveniently placed dice tile!

-Another 12

-Man the whiplash Qingxuan has going from saying ‘San Lang’ to ‘Hua Cheng’ when he got exasperated

-This took place in a time before the Step counter was invented

-*hears Ming Yi speak*  OH NO HE’S HOT!!!

-He melted the metal shackles

-This has the energy of the cheerleader being close with the goth girl but masculine

-From EP 11

-Yep it’s exactly like the popular girl trying to befriend the goth

-And he already knows they’re close!

-And Ming Yi just sleeps to not talk to anyone, valid

-What was the number he just rolled

-Another floor trap

-He didn’t land in his lap like in the novel and man Hua Cheng

-Boo Chinese Censorship! BOO!!! (Rotten tomatoes)

*Hua Cheng gasps in demi* *wink wink*

That’s all for the reaction post, I gotta get back to cleaning me and my sister’s room

[kaizoku-musume]

Mayday Hayday Gift Exchange

I had the absolute pleasure of participating in this years' Ikeseries gift exchange hosted by @olivermorningstar and @lorei-writes, and I got the wonderful @tulipsaisle for my giftee. She has a wonderful OC that was fun to write about and I hope I did her justice. Thank you all for the opportunity to join in on this amazing experience!

Fox Fashion

Shiloh scratched the tabby cat’s back, taking a break from running her stall at the day’s slow peak. It was so heartwarming for her attention to be rewarded with purring delight and affectionate head bumps.

Paying attention to the cat also had the added benefit of Shiloh being able to ignore Nokto Klein.

“Shi-loooooh,” Nokto sing-songed as though he’d not been yapping for the past five minutes about his latest conquest at some ball he just attended. Couldn’t he have picked a more interesting topic? It’s not like Nokto wasn’t a great storyteller: the way he could draw in a crowd as he utilized his honey-smooth voice and descriptive embellishments was near unparalleled, but he so often wasted his talents by telling tales no one wanted to hear, least of all Shiloh.

“Did you hear something, Minou?” Shiloh cooed at the cat, “All I heard was the wind. If only it would blow its hot air somewhere else, huh?”

“Come now, I’m sure there are better ways for me to put my mouth to use than just blowing air, hmmm?” Nokto purred. Shiloh clucked her tongue and turned her face away so he couldn’t see her red cheeks. She always struggled to think up a good comeback when he toed the line of vulgarity like that.

“Be honest, dear,” Nokto said, angling his body to try and catch a peek of her face, “is a cat you see every day really more interesting than a prince specifically stopping by to visit you?”

“Oh, of course not,” Shiloh waved Nokto off. She took a small toy mouse out of the pocket of her dress (it was worth  making friends with the best seamstress in town) and tossed it on the ground for Minou to play with. “If Licht were to stop by, I’d be happy to sit him down for some tea and snacks.”

“Just Licht?” Nokto prompted.

“Well, there’s also Leon, Jin, Yves,” Shiloh counted on her fingers as she listed everyone aside from Nokto, “I heard Prince Keith is a good conversationalist and knows a lot about flowers, I wouldn’t mind picking his brain about them, and there’s-”

“I think I get it,” Nokto said dryly, “so foxes rank pretty low under cats with you.” He reached out to boop Minou’s nose, causing the cat to scrunch her face adorably. “What am I going to have to do to make you change your mind?”

Shiloh raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief. “Do you really think you can compare with Minou’s gentle sweetness? Her precious curled feetsies?”

“I don’t think any human can compare to that,” Nokto admitted. That was suspicious. Usually he didn’t give up so-

“But I can show you a different kind of pleasure that’s just as delightful.”

-soon. “Unless you’re talking about the pleasure of silence, I’m not interested,” Shiloh said, dusting her dress as she stood up, ready to refocus on her shop.

Nokto laughed and said, “I’ll get you to admit my charms one day, Miss Hayes.”

* * *

“Ugh!” Shiloh groaned as she fanned herself with her hand, “Why can’t spring last longer?” Maybe she should upgrade from an outdoor stall to a shopfront-then she’d have more than just shade to protect herself.

At least she wasn’t suffering alone. Nokto had shown up minutes ago, having heard the same thing from Celine, the seamstress, about a surprise showing up around now. And Nokto wasn’t any better in the heat than she was. “I can easily say this isn’t my preferred method of working up a sweat,” he agreed, asking for the second time, “Are you sure you don’t want to close up and go to a cafe? I’d never imply you were anything other than a delight to look at, but you’re turning a shade of red that even I normally can’t get out of you.”

“No thanks,” Shiloh stood her ground, though there was a part of her that couldn’t deny being tempted, “but if you can’t handle it, I won’t think less of you for needing to escape to safety.”

“Such a kind offer. But I’m not callous enough to leave you out here all by yourself. Why, what if you were to feel faint under the-” Nokto sputtered a bit when Shiloh frantically shushed at him to be quiet, flapping her hands in his face. She’d just spotted Celine’s surprise trot around the corner.

“Oh. My. God!!!” she shrieked, taking in the sight of Minou in the most adorable little getup Shiloh had ever seen. Never in a million years would Shiloh ever imagine she’d see Minou in a dress, but here she was, watching the tabby proudly prance over to her, wearing a tiny, flowery-there were roses! And junipers!-green sundress, perfectly sized and aimed at making Shiloh lose her mind with cuteness overload.

“Well, that’s certainly something,” Nokto observed over Shiloh’s gushing, “That must have been a struggle, to wrangle a cat into that outfit.”

“It’s worth it,” Shiloh declared in awe, “she’s the most precious thing I’ve ever seen. And such a good idea! How many people would jump on the idea of outfits for their pets? Celine could start a whole line of clothing for pets-the fabric and labour costs would be much lower, too. Oh, she’s brilliant!” 

Nokto watched on as Shiloh began muttering about the process of the fashion industry and how it can accommodate Celine’s project. “This is what gets you going, is it?” he chuckled in amusement, “Regular clothes just aren’t enough for you anymore so now you need a tiny version to get excited over?”

Shiloh cut off her rambling, a hand on her hip as she addressed Nokto, “When a new line drops, I’ll be all too happy to talk your ear off about it. Don’t for one second think I’ve given up one of my big loves in life. But come on!” she gestured toward Minou, who was in the middle of grooming herself, “I challenge you to find anything cuter than a cat in a dress.”

“Sounds like a tough challenge,” Nokto said, a sudden gleam in his eyes, “what do I get if I win?”

That didn’t sound good at all. Shiloh eyed Nokto warily, wondering what the tricky fox was up to. But it wasn’t like she could take it back-withdrawing now would just make it look like she thought Nokto could actually do it. She would have to face this head on. “If you can succeed, I’ll take you up on one of your non-sexual! invitations.”

Nokto’s grin made her immediately regret her words. “Sounds like a deal. I hope you keep to your word.”

Ah, great. Shiloh blamed her poor decision on the awful heat.

* * *

Well, today was the day. Nokto had messaged Shiloh to let her know he was ready to show her something cuter, and Shiloh could only hope that he came up with something perverted; it would be a pain to deal with, but at least she lose and be dragged along on whatever plan he had up his sleeves. All Shiloh could do was count down the minutes until the time Nokto promised to arrive, her eyes boring holes at the street corner he should come down.

She’d wracked her brain, trying to think of every possibility available, but when Nokto finally rounded that corner, she realized nothing could prepare her. Shiloh slapped her palm over her mouth to stop herself from bursting out laughing at the sight before her.

“Well?” Nokto twirled for her, the hem of the dress he wore flaring out with the motion, “What do you think?”

“Wh-why?” Shiloh wheezed behind her hand, still struggling not to laugh despite the realization that the dress actually looked good on Nokto. He’d gotten it tailored to his measurements and picked a colour that went well with his skin tone, so he was clearly taking it seriously . . . kinda. Nokto hadn’t passed up the opportunity to be as, well, slutty as possible: the dress was a slinky little number, the neckline was cut as low as physically possible, and there was a slit along his right thigh nearly to the waist, revealing pantyhose of all things! Why was he like this?!

Nokto struck a couple of unnecessarily sexy poses, “Because it’s clear that the only thing cuter than a cat in a dress is a fox in a dress, wouldn’t you say?”

Shiloh had a lot she wanted to say, such as “but you’re not an actual fox” and “then why didn’t you wear a cute dress?”, but none of that mattered more than telling him, “There’s no way this counts.” Nokto just smirked, like he was prepared to debate this all day if he had to, and Shiloh knew, with a dawning sort of horror, that she’d sealed her fate the moment she set up that condition.

Maybe she could still get something out of it if she convinced Nokto to wear a dress to whatever party he wanted to drag her to-at least that would give her something positive to look forward to in the face of her crushing defeat.

[shesgotthebeststories]

I WON'T LET NO ONE HURT YOU

a rosa diaz x oc fic

“Your little hand's wrapped around my finger and it's so quiet in the world tonight. Your little eyelids flutter 'cause you're dreamin' So I tuck you in, turn on your favorite night light”

a fic where Rosa and Maddy babysit Mac but as the night goes on, Rosa starts to reconsider her past beliefs.

(this is set a couple years after rosa came out and her and maddy made their relationship public, and obviously after amy and jake got married at had mac )

“Are you sure about this? We can just reschedule our date night for another time when my parents are free,” Amy said, her voice tinged with hesitation.

“Amy, it’s fine! You and Jake have been planning this for weeks, and you deserve a couple of hours to yourselves,” Maddy reassured her, smiling warmly. “Besides, Mac’s my little buddy. We’ll be fine!”

The two of them were sitting in the precinct break room. Amy had just gotten off the phone with her parents, who had to cancel their babysitting plans for the evening. Maddy had jumped at the chance to help, volunteering herself and Rosa to take care of baby Mac. But Amy was hesitant—not because she didn’t trust them, they were Mac’s godparents, after all, and if anything ever happened to her and Jake, Mac would go to them. Her hesitation stemmed from the fact that Mac could be… well… a handful. And Rosa, in particular, wasn’t exactly known for her love of babies.

“Are you really sure, though? I mean, I love him to death, but he’s a lot of work. And let’s be honest—Rosa’s not exactly the baby type,” Amy said, wringing her hands nervously. Maddy leaned across the table and grabbed Amy’s hands.

“I promise, Amy. We’ve got this. I’m 110% sure,” she said, conveniently leaving out the small detail that Rosa wasn’t yet aware of the plan.

“I mean, come on—we’re his godparents! We should get some practice in, right?” she added with a grin. Still looking slightly unsure, Amy finally relented with a small nod.

“Alright, alright. If you’re sure. We’ll bring him over around six?”

“Perfect!” Maddy beamed, squeezing her hands.

“We’ll be ready. You guys just focus on having fun.” As Amy left the room, visibly more relaxed, Maddy let out a breath.

“Now to tell Rosa,” she muttered to herself.

-

Maddy strolled into the briefing room, trying her best to act casual. Rosa was seated at a desk, laser-focused on some case files, her expression as unreadable as ever.

“Hey, Rosa,” Maddy started casually, crossing her arms as she leaned against the doorframe. She gave her best attempt at a nonchalant smile. “Whatcha working on?”

“Stop stalling. What do you want?” Rosa’s sharp gaze cut right through her act.

“Why do you always assume I want something?” Maddy replied with an exaggerated pout.

“Because you always do want something,” Rosa deadpanned, finally glancing up at her.

“Spit it out.” Maddy sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“Okay, so… you know how we’re Mac’s godparents?” Rosa’s expression didn’t change.

“Unfortunately. What about it?”

“Well, Amy and Jake’s babysitting plans fell through, and I may have volunteered us to watch him tonight,” Maddy said, her voice rising slightly at the end. Rosa stared at her, completely stone-faced.

“You what?”

“I know, I know! Hear me out,” Maddy rushed on, holding up her hands defensively.

“They’ve been planning this date night for months, and they really deserve some time off. Plus, you’re great under pressure, and I’m amazing with kids. We’ve got this!” Rosa’s expression remained unreadable, but Maddy could sense the skepticism radiating off her.

“Maddy, Mac’s a baby. Not a hostage situation.”

“Exactly! How hard can it be?” Maddy tried to sound confident, though she wasn’t entirely sure herself.

“Feed him, keep him entertained, change some diapers—easy.” Rosa narrowed her eyes.

“Diapers?”

“Okay, I’ll handle the diapers,” Maddy said quickly.

“You can do… the rocking him to sleep part or, I don’t know, sing to him?” Rosa let out a low chuckle.

“Sing? Maddy, you’re insane.”

“Come on, Rosa. This’ll be good practice! Plus, Amy and Jake trust us—us. We can’t let them down!” Maddy clasped her hands together in an exaggerated plea. Rosa stared at her for a long moment, then let out a reluctant sigh.

“Fine. But if that kid starts screaming, I’m passing him to you.”

“Deal!” Maddy grinned, relieved.

“This is gonna be great!”

-

Later that evening, at 6 pm sharp, Amy and Jake stood at the door, looking both relieved and nervous as they handed Mac over.

“You’ve got this, right?” Amy asked for the fifth time, bouncing Mac gently in her arms.

“He gets really cranky after 7 p.m., and he only likes his bottle warm, not hot, and—”

“Amy, go!” Maddy interrupted with a laugh, grabbing Mac and ushering her and Jake out the door.

“We’ve got this. You two go enjoy yourselves.” Amy and Jake reluctantly left, and Maddy turned to Rosa with a triumphant smile.

“See? Step one, done. This’ll be a piece of cake.” Rosa crossed her arms.

“Give it thirty minutes.”

-

Thirty minutes later, Maddy was standing in the middle of the kitchen, covered in baby food. Mac was screaming at the top of his lungs, his little fists flailing. Rosa stood in the doorway, arms crossed and an amused smirk on her face.

“You were saying?”

“Okay, so this is harder than I thought,” Maddy admitted, bouncing Mac desperately.

“Come on, buddy, work with me here!” Mac’s cries only got louder, and Maddy shot Rosa a pleading look.

“Help?” Rosa sighed, walking over.

“Give him here. Go clean yourself up before he starts crying louder just because you smell like peas.” Maddy handed Mac over, watching as Rosa cradled him with surprising ease.

“Good luck,” she muttered before retreating to the bedroom.

-

While Maddy retreated to her bedroom to change her food-stained shirt, the apartment grew quiet. Too quiet. She froze mid-button on her clean shirt, listening for any sound from Mac. Nothing. No crying, no fussing. Just a calm, peaceful silence.

Frowning in confusion, Maddy left her room and peeked into the living room. There, in the corner, Rosa sat in the rocking chair, swaying gently back and forth. Mac was nestled against her chest, a bottle in his tiny hands, his eyes half-closed in sleepy contentment. What really made Maddy’s breath catch, though, was Rosa herself. She was softly singing—barely audible, her voice uncharacteristically tender. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a lullaby, but it was enough to send a wave of warmth crashing through Maddy.

Maddy’s heart raced as she pulled her phone out of her pocket, snapping a photo of Rosa and Mac before they could notice her. She typed out a quick text to Amy.

“He’s fine. You and Jake should extend your date night—stay out as late as you want. We’ve got this.”

Putting her phone away, Maddy quietly walked into the living room, sitting on the arm of Rosa’s chair. She rested her head gently against Rosa’s and whispered,

“You’re kind of a natural, you know that?” Rosa smirked but didn’t stop rocking.

“He just needed someone who’s not covered in pea juice.” Maddy laughed quietly, leaning into her.

“I mean it. You’re good at this.” Rosa looked down at Mac, her expression softening.

“I never thought I’d be,” she admitted. “I never even wanted kids.” Maddy tilted her head, watching her.

“But?”

“But now… I don’t know.” Rosa hesitated, her voice dropping. “Holding him, it makes me think… maybe. Maybe I’d want this. Someday.” she said softly, her voice low and hesitant. Maddy’s heart swelled as she pulled Rosa closer.

“Yeah?” Rosa nodded, still focused on Mac.

“I mean, the idea of bringing one into this mess of a world just… didn’t sit right. But now, seeing him, holding him…” She paused, her voice catching slightly. “I don’t know. I want to try. To give a kid the kind of childhood I dreamed of.” Rosa hesitated, her confidence faltering.

“But what if I’m not good at it? What if I screw it up?” Maddy’s chest tightened as she heard Rosa’s voice quiver.

“You’d be amazing, Rosa,” she said firmly, pulling her closer. “You’d love them like crazy, just like you do with Mac—even if you pretend not to.” Rosa looked up at Maddy, her dark eyes searching hers.

“You really think so?”

“I know so,” Maddy said, smiling as she leaned in to kiss Rosa softly. She brushed away the tear slipping down Rosa’s cheek. They both looked back down at Mac, who was now fast asleep, his tiny snores filling the room.

“And so what if you mess up? Every parent does,” Maddy said gently, her arms wrapped securely around Rosa. “Jake literally called me last week freaking out about a giant hole in Mac’s pants. Turns out, they weren’t pants—it were a shirt.” Rosa chuckled, shaking her head.

“That sounds about right.”

“It’s just part of the process,” Maddy went on, her voice soft and steady. “You make mistakes, you figure it out, and you get better. And no matter what, I’ll be right there with you—every single step of the way. We will make mistakes together, but we will also fix them together.” Rosa let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, a small smile creeping onto her face. Maddy leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

“I told Amy and Jake we’d take him for the night,” Maddy said, standing up. “Figured they could use a full night’s sleep. I’ll go set up the cot.”

Rosa watched her walk away, then looked down at Mac, her heart unexpectedly full. She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Sweet dreams, kid,” she murmured.

By the time Rosa joined Maddy in the bedroom, the cot was set up, and Maddy was already in her pajamas, sitting cross-legged on the bed. Rosa carefully laid Mac down in the cot, patting his back as he stirred slightly before settling again. Rosa sat on the side of the bed, Maddy moving behind her, wrapping her arms around her from behind and resting her chin on Rosa’s shoulder. Rosa smiled, reaching up to hold Maddy’s hands. While no words were said, they both knew what they were thinking. They sat there for a while, watching Mac as he slept peacefully in his cot. After a few minutes, Rosa stretched.

“I’m gonna get changed.” When she returned, Maddy was already snuggled under the covers. Rosa slid into bed beside her, pulling Maddy into her arms.

“I love you,” Rosa murmured, her voice soft in the dark.

“I love you too,” Maddy replied, her voice barely audible as she drifted off to sleep. As the faint sounds of the city filtered through the windows and the soft snores of her girlfriend and godson filled the room, Rosa smiled to herself. She could get used to this.

(lil cutesy but angsty fic in another universe where rosa reconsiders her opinions on settling down and having a kid. also a Mac appreciation post cause that kid went through so much in his first few hours on earth.)

[fancylala4]

So I read and watched some things about the Tangled tv series and it’s such a mess.

There’s magic everywhere in this series when the only magic in the movie was in that flower. I guess they realized that it would get boring fast and added more interesting lore into the series. There also steampunk stuff in it which is really weird because there was none of that in the movie. There wasn’t even a gun in the movie but there’s robots in the series?

They added in some black characters in it so they don’t look as white as the movie. I’m also sure they ripped off sinbad again and gave Flynn a friend that reminded me of cal.

They also ripped off of frozen as well. We have sister issues plot lines like the queen has one and rapunzel has one with cass. Rapunzel struggles with being a queen and is anxious about it like Elsa was( when she was super perfect at everything in the movie). She even copied Anna in being a funny sleeper and not being a morning person. There also was a special where a snow storm threatened the kingdom just like with frozen! Stans whine that frozen ripped off this movie like Elsa having a similar hair part to rapunzel (lol) or that Anna is a rapunzel clone (when rapunzel was already a Ariel clone) when this show clearly rips off frozen. I guess they wanted that frozen popularity.

Mandy still can’t voice act for shit. It’s so funny how she hasn’t improved in the role since she started it and it sounds like she did this for the money. For example, That scene when rapunzel was yelling out and crying when pascal sacrificed himself was so painful. I heard more emotion from a girl who drop her own phone. it’s embarrassing because you can see that she’s out of her league when the got great singers in the mix with the guy who voiced that 14 years old and cass. It also says a lot that the song that got an award for this show had a great singer (cass I think it was) and not any of the songs Mandy sings.

The series made three king look like even more of a dick than he already was in the movie and made gothel look less of a dumbass than she did in the movies. The reason why she never moved the flower from the spot was because of some rock spikes would grow everywhere for some reason and it can cause harm to people who live in the area. But the king didn't care about this at all and took the flower knowing the things it would cause. He also kept the original flower and said that anyone who steals it like he did would be a criminal. So he’s a thief who stole a flower and used all its power for his own selfish purposes (when it could have help anyone in the kingdom with a similar or even worse case than him) and didn’t care that it would cause harm to not only his own kingdom but the world.

The 14 year old kid (who is super popular because I’ve seen his design everywhere) in the show was made out to be the bad guy because his dad got caught into that rock thingy and he just wants to issue to go away because it can hurt anyone. Rapunzel also kicked him out into a snowstorm (or someone in the castle did and she did nothing to stop it) and didn’t give a fuck about him for two episodes. He was low key right about everything going by the wiki.

I would say that the king was an abusive piece of shit because how he treated rapunzel but I already said something about that in an another post! I still can’t believe he locked her up in a fucking tower and the show pulled the “he loves and cares about you! So the abuse is ok” crap!

I do have to say that the music in the show was way better than it was in the movie. It seems like no one was holding Alan back and they got someone who could actually write good lyrics unlike that guy from the movie. The song ready as I’ll ever be (it was every where at one point and I had no idea it was from this show) was so much better than the trash ass songs they had in the movie.

The art is a mix between lolirock and a storybook. I like it better than the movie’s but it’s not the best. I also liked rapunzel’s hair better here than in the movie since it didn’t look like plastic.

[whythehellnaut]

Why’s Super Mario Bros Movie review

Wow, I might be late on the Super Mario movie, but I'ma be straight up honest, that was my least favorite movie of the last five years, roughly.  Sorry to be negative right after praising John Wick, Dungeons and Dragons, and Power Rangers, but man did this rip me down to Earth after that high point.  This was a boring, predictable slog with mediocre performances (Jack Black included),  a script with zero thought, and the worst humor I've seen in an animated movie in years. I think there are exactly two things I liked about it: that it was colorful, and that it included plentiful references to Nintendo properties that were often used as creative camera shots, e.g. a side-scrolling camera setup.  But even then, the references lack soul.  If the panned "Epic Movie" pair of Friedberg and Seltzer taught us anything, it's that you can't just throw blatant references at a screen and assume everyone will eat it up.  There has to be subtlety or humor to it.  Chip and Dale got this right by using tons of properties and using them sparingly with quick, rapid-fire jokes that subvert your expectations about how cartoons would work.  The references in Mario don't have that humor or nearly that much creativity.  It seems as if the writers made a list of references ahead of time and sloppily wrote a script around it. The script, incidentally, feels like it was written by an AI, or perhaps a child that never watched anything past 2000s Nickelodeon.  It is so riddled with tired tropes and cliches that I was mouthing the lines ahead of time, before they were spoken.  It's so formulaic that you can tell exactly how each character will respond to anything before the line comes out of their mouth.  I've seen kid-oriented movies and shows that do this, but never to this massive extent.  I was practically predicting every single plot point before it happened so absolutely nothing surprised me. I tried to find some excitement in the action and set pieces, but even those were dull to watch and predictable.  There were so many instances of slow-mo a la Zach Snyder, that it ultimately just felt arbitrarily thrown in, and broke up what fun there was to be had.  Even the Rainbow Road kart sequence was chaotic and uninteresting.  Maybe this all would be forgivable with some humor, but my god, I didn't laugh a single time.  There were so many opportunities to put something funny into the script, and all were wasted.  Often times they come close to being funny, but end up sucking out the humor by having Donkey Kong do a Seth Rogen laugh in response, or having another character yell at them, as if to say, "that was a joke, please laugh."   The performances weren't even enough to amuse.  I can say that Renfield wasn't a hilarious movie, but Nic Cage's performance was so well done and entertaining that it was still laughable, so I know that Mario could potentially make up for lack of humor with entertaining performances.  Unfortunately, the characters have no chemistry and feel like they're there only to deliver lines in sequence and nothing more.  Jack Black was clearly brought in to ham it up with no direction, as he wastes time singing a boring song about Peach, which they apparently thought was so funny that they had him sing it twice in the movie.  Even Jim Carrey, the king of annoying ham, didn't ham it up when playing Dr. Robotnik across two Sonic movies as much as Black did while playing Bowser.  Keegan Michael Key as Toad is, dare I say it, reminiscent of Jar Jar Binks.  He's completely useless, even causing much of the conflict in the third act, is pretty much always ignored when he delivers terrible one-liners, and has a voice that I'm certain was modified to be higher and to make it more annoying.  Chris Pratt has phoned in his performances for the last 4 years or so, and this isn't that much different, albeit not one of his worst performances, as he at least attempts a Brooklyn accent.  Anya Taylor Joy is a great actress but has a low, dark voice that's meant for drama, and not for a feminine cartoon princess.  Her performance as Peach is sadly mostly monotone. I'll finish by bringing up the whole argument about how Peach is handled as a character, because I do have a stance on this.  I expected that it was hated by right-wingers for being too feminist by making her strong, but it actually ended up being worse than I expected.  Aside from maybe Mario's mom, she's the only named female character in the movie, and Bowser's evil plan is nothing more than to marry her, which basically puts this at the writing level of a movie written the same year as the NES game's release.  Thus, the writers needed to make her strong for female representation to counteract the outdated plot, but ended up completely failing at feminism and empowerment by making her flawless to an uninspiring degree, and with no personality, charisma, or chemistry with other characters.  I feel in their attempt to be feminist, they backfired and showed how little they understand female characterization. It's amazing how nearly every single aspect of this film disappointed me, even as someone who preaches that the video game adaptation curse has been over for 5 years.  I went in expecting something middle of the road, so I don't think I was influenced by any preconceived notion of how it would be.  It boggles my mind that this is now the highest grossing animated film of all time.  I can understand this being catered to young kids, but if Sonic can be fun for the whole family, and even Minions can be funny at times, was this just made for literal toddlers?  That's the only excuse I can think of.  Sorry again to be so negative, but I'm really quite rattled by this movie, and with how badly animation is being disrespected by film companies, I feel this is only going to reinforce that disrespect, and I need to express that.

[influencermagazineuk]

The Concern that John Lennon Had for One of the Beatles Band Members' Future

Before the devastating assassination, John Lennon had written at least once that he was concerned about one of his fellow Beatles members and what his future would be after the breakup of the band. On several occasions, in various interviews, Lennon openly shared his thoughts of what might come of each member when they split off, and he worried the most for one of them to be Ringo Starr. Eric Koch for Anefo, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons Ringo Starr, essentially the dependable, talented drummer of the Beatles, often assumed the starring role of maintaining harmony amidst band members. He was more than the backbone of the sound rhythms but also helped stabilize tension periods among band members. Though much was brought to the table, Lennon feared that his friend and bandmate may not meet the same level of success once the group dissolves. In an interview with Bob Harris for The Old Grey Whistle Test, Lennon said: "I was rather glad about all of us doing all right after all." But then again he was happy for Starr who was 'doing great'. "I'm glad everybody is okay. I'm relieved that Ringo is okay and that he found himself a nice little niche because I knew Paul would be all right," Lennon said. His comments seemed to suggest a kind of defensive leaning towards Starr, whom he thought might have a tough time remaining a successful independent artist than Paul McCartney, whose prospects as a musician Lennon seems to be more optimistic about. This wasn't the only interview where this came up. In his last interview with Playboy magazine, in 1980, shortly before Lennon's assassination, there was still the repeated discussion of Starr's role in The Beatles and how his low-key, unassuming personality had been to his advantage. Remembering Starr's song I'm The Greatest, Lennon said, "It's the Muhammad Ali line, you know. I couldn't sing it, but it was perfect for Ringo. He could say 'I'm the greatest' and people wouldn't get upset. Whereas if I said 'I'm the greatest,' they'd all take it so seriously." The note from Lennon told how Starr's unassuming talent made it possible for him to grab the limelight where Lennon or McCartney would not dare to without having people taking it seriously. However, though Starr had a certain charm, Lennon was certainly concerned about the long-term future of his career. Interviewed by journalist Ray Connolly, he shared his worst concerns when stating, "I don't want Ringo to end up poor, having to play the northern nightclubs." The cause of Lennon's concern was the fear that, after worldwide fame in The Beatles, Starr would be reduced to playing venues no one knew anything about. He explained this further by saying that the worst thing in the world for an ex-pop star in England is to end up playing Bradford or Darlington, the northern nightclubs because they are really awful places … The people eating chips and scampi while you are trying to be heard. This lovely description speaks to Lennon's consciousness of how different these world tours and stadium gigs The Beatles were used to and the more modest, often heartbreaking reality some ex-stars might face if their success doesn't last. He worried for Starr, though he did believe that Starr had career material on his side, fearing in fact a great big drop. Lennon speaks of Ringo Starr with a patrician love and brotherly interest. While Starr was always an important part of the magic of The Beatles, Lennon sounded concerned that the drummer's role in the band didn't put him into the same sort of position to carry over into the solo arena as did McCartney or even George Harrison. So there is a protective instinct here; Lennon wouldn't want Starr to struggle or experience those downs that many artists see after their rise to fame. In the final analysis, Starr did have a successful career as a solo artist and is oft saluted for his contributions to music both as a member of The Beatles and as a solo artist. Lennon's fears at the time, however, demonstrate the more subtle, needy relationships that lay between the members of this band, and even the insecurity of which icon artists may feel when they step out from behind the bright light of an internationally beloved group. Read the full article

[pwblogarchive]

October 2004

October 2, 2004

“I Wrote The Word “Regret” On My Hand To Remember To Call You”

Its a fixedcat fight. And I’m going down fast, but I’m winking. Faking it. Tbs tour in chicago. You remeber 3 years ago when us and tbs first played chicago. Yeah to like 20 kids. So thank you for tonight. We are having so much fun. We have so many new songs.

Do you ever see someone just sitting alone and feel so bad. Just low. Like you just know they aren’t connected to anyone? Maybe that’s just me. I want this record to make those people feel okay, cause we all get there sometimes… Go read hey chris’s zine. Its pretty good.

Don’t roll your eyes at me I only want to write a song to suit your every mood.

P

October 4, 2004

“Its Not Gossip If Its The Truth”

Day off in omaha. Got some new tricks for you. Including: a green slytherin tie, members only jacket, and napoleon dynamite on dvd (youknowyouwantityouknowyouwantit). My hair is new black on blonde I don’t know what to think of it just yet. Me and dirty have been making funny videos that I hope you get to see soon. I don’t know why I read the internet- aaron from matchbook told me about our kickball game being written about on absolutepunk (jason tate is my homeboy- however it wasn’t teammatchbook that won it- it was team dirty consisting of: dirty, me, andy hurley, judas mbr, fred tbs, and mark tbs- we smoked the competition… So let the internet know. If you wanna play some kickball come find us. We leave for l.a. To record our record in november- I’m excited. We have these shows coming up on the east coast in december please get your tickets early, they will sell out.

I’ve got sunsets in my veins like you don’t even know.

P

October 6, 2004

“I’m A Headache Kid With Targets For Eyes”

Denver. singing one mile up. Had the best time till joe hit me in the head with his guitar. Yes again. It knocked me out. I apologize. We finished the set and we hope everyone still had a good time. I can’t sleep. I need your heart beat. I’ve been working on my other book, I can’t wait to see the west coast again. Then for florida we got great halloween costumes for you.

You could have taken the place of oxygen for me.

Peterpumpkin eater

October 7, 2004

“This Is A Love Song In My Own Fucked Up Way”

somewhere along the line i stopped believing in this. i stopped trying to match our breathing when we fell asleep. i hear about the way you brag about how all the songs are about you. only someone like you could ever be proud of that.

October 7, 2004

“Lets Walk This Romance Until Its Bitter End”

flew into seattle at 6:45 am today. eyes stuck shut with sleep in them. our entire band and crew was pulled aside and searched. we can’t tune guitars, theres no way we could bomb anything. i hate flying. i find myself assessing my life every time we hit a bump- if someone’s keeping score then i am fucked. got to play with a ton of great bands today. hung with my chemical romance a bunch- me and mikey, their bassist, have a gang called “the sweet little dudes”. we’re gonna make a secret handshake. trust me, you’re jealous. don’t be suprised if you see us on tour together in the future. the lost prophets had a party tonight, where they shot their new video. i did lots of monster faces for the camera, maybe you will see it. got another excerpt from my other book (not the boy with the thorn in his side) over at: www.fueledbyramen.com/journal -

sorry for all the complaining. it just comes so easy to me.

p

October 8, 2004

"atlanta to san jose"

The first thing I ever knew about her was a lie. Her lips curl when she’s talking about the “Q”. her middle name is “Q” she says.

but it’s not. She’s regular. She’s normal just like me. But Her lips still curl when she is hoping she isn’t caught.

Except she always is.

She reminds me of the anecdote about the lab rat who chose the intense pleasure button over the food button. He probably starved to death. 

But I’m sure he’s reliving the glory days up in rat heaven. 

I call her up to tell her to build me a model scale version of San Francisco because I have a great idea for a disaster.

She must be on the internet because the phone just keeps ringing. Right now I want to shoot every single fucking employee at Earthlink.

What do overweight Ethiopians, free money, the tooth fairy- and Q as a middle name have in common?

Liar.

I hate how I can’t stop thinking about the liar.

Freud says love is the sublimation of sexual impulses.

I say we are all lab rats. And consider this a failed experiment.

He says we sublimate our sexual desires to make them palatable to society.

This is what love is.

I say this must be a clinical trial.

And I am the control.

She is the “Stockholm Effect”- you know back in the seventies when victims fell in love with their kidnappers.

Yeah. She’s mostly like that.

She is the middle parts of Great Expectations. You know right before things go really wrong for Pip (and This wouldn’t be my story if I weren’t Pip).

God, I love victim culture.

I love Jeffrey Dahmer being a victim of society.

I love Patty Hearst. I love the “Stockholm Effect”.

The great victims of our culture. Aren’t we all?

Sexuality was first examined scientifically in the 19th century. Before that religion fielded all questions.

That didn’t work so well.

Love was not examined scientifically until the late 20th century.

Erich Fromm suggested that infatuation was a plan by Mother Nature to promote the survival of the species. See with out infatuation cave men would never have overcome the fear of interacting and eventually having sex with other clans. Thus ensuring the survival of the species.

This is what is commonly considered a breakthrough. Freud is spinning in his grave.

Our extinction is a Hallmark card away.

He later suggests that in order to love someone else one must love themselves. A classic “needs before other needs” argument.

Unfortunately, no one really loves themselves. And if they do, they need to get to know themselves better. Unfortunately, no one is really happy. So, let’s be unhappy together.

I call her up to tell her to build a mini version of San Jose for me to devastate.

Her roommate tells me she is on the phone long-distance with her aunt. 

I want to kill every member of her extended family.

Phenylethylamine (PEA), the chemical responsible for the swooning and feelings of adoration, is structurally similar to cocaine. Most people choose cocaine over love when given the chance. 

I wouldn’t say that’s a bad choice. 

The endorphins released during infatuation are similar to heroin; only they don’t make you skinny and pale. Oxytocin, “the cuddling hormone” most often found in new mothers and newlyweds, are like ecstasy- every touch feels a bit tinglier. 

Love exists in a bottle. In a syringe. I want mine diluted with water.

Most people would choose gambling over love when given the chance. We are the rat.

Most people choose pornography over love when given the chance. We are the cave-man.

Hallmark cards and boxes of Fanny-May chocolates will save humanity.

It’s all in the marketing. Kellogg and the original Graham Cracker originally marketed their products as a way to stifle teenage masturbation

I call her up to go over the blue prints for a miniature Atlanta because I crave catastrophe.

Her answering machine picks up. Right now I hate her voice.

It reminds me of how much I think about her.

She is the fraud. The faker. I can’t stop thinking about her.

I miss her lips curling with those lies.

I miss her body- See, she has a body that will go to the pornstar retirement home in her golden years- or prostitute heaven. 

to my favorite liar: you were always/never just a line in a song.

- petey

October 9, 2004

Release The Brats

Canada was amazing. Vancouver. Kissing weather but no kissing was done. If you’re coming out to any shows anytime soon I am in need of this one kind of shampoo its called purple shampoo or its in a purple bottle- it washes the color out of blonde hair- anyway the black is sneaking into the blonde and I need some. You can get it at beauty supply places. Ill hook you up with some merch or clan gear… Here’s the hitch I only need one bottle…

I’ve been calling you late at night in my mind. My bed misses me and you.

Petey

President of the brats.

Sweet lil dudes gang

October 10, 2004

“Status Report: I Am Missing You To Death”

so the update. i got the shampoo so ignore the earlier post, though thank you for even caring at all. im in portland.

i used to have headaches.

then i met you. now im onto

something new.

October 11, 2004

“143”

I could tell she was searching for something. Something punishing. Something unforgivable.

“I hope your plane crashes.”

Somewhere deep down so did i.

she always had this look of awe on her face when i looked at her (i should have told her, i don’t do “awe” but i will settle for “sympathy”). we all settle- sometimes you want chocolate and all they have is vanilla- sometimes you want romance, and instead you got me. im the sick feeling in your stomach the next morning when you remember the night before. i am the trash on the floor after the last dance.

i can only sleep on tylenol pms lately and they cant touch these headaches.

i swear to god i would give this all up if you asked.

the way i’d pretend that i could see you and not have my hands all over you if you would pretend i didn’t know everything.

the way i wrote every song about you, because of you, for you. but you were still always the first person i played them for.

how i cant pull the trigger.

im all the parts of a bullet but the powder.

if you were smart you’d skip this part.

you’d just stop reading.

i know this jumps around everywhere and doesn’t make much sense. i didn’t write this one. my moods did.

somewhere along the way. you decided i was settling.

but i never gave up on anything as pretty as you.

everytime the plane bumps, i think of you.

we cant stand being this close to eachother, even inside of IM windows.

and you said “im turning my phone off, ive had enough of this conversation for the night”.

and i think maybe that theres still a chance.

its like roulette- if the phones on then you still love me, theres still a chance. if it’s off- then i was wrong.

its like roulette, and im putting all my chips on black.

(your phone is off).

i never stood a chance. the house always wins.

imagine me at my worst- and i am just past that.

the sign on the road says “welcome to rock bottom”.

i own all the real estate.

this is us both signing off.

October 15, 2004

“Songs Don’t Settle Scores So How About Me And All My Friends Vs. You And All Of Yours”

If you’ve seen me around lately, I’m not sad or in a bad mood. I’m sick. It gets me really quiet and weird. I apologize. The west coast is so much fun. My mom is the cutest. She thinks someone broke into our house to steal new fall out boy demos, hehe, pretty good. Just on this side of crazy. I love my mom. This journal entry is all over the place. So I posted some pics of the new hair- you gotta look around and you’ll find them… Its not too hard. Got some good news for you soon.

P

October 15, 2004

12:08 am.

fuck your friends page, cause i said so

October 19, 2004

“Jason Tate Doesn’t Ever Call Me Back”

Vegas. The luck only goes one way. Piece of advice. Don’t bet all your merch money on red. Don’t dream of anyone except me. Were half way there. We’ve got even newer songs, some new merch, and some new ways of throwing it all away.

Jared tell jason to call me.

Peter

October 21, 2004

“If Its Any Consolation”

Every song on our next record will be about killing the head cheerleader.

October 24, 2004

“Cowboys And Girls.”

There’s something intensely foreign but endearing about texas. Put the love on hold. We move slow.

Were sitting out dances on the wall of club after the show. You said “I’m faded, but you should think this over cause it could take all night”. But I’m pretty sure you were just faded. My bunk feels like a coffin tonight. The airs humid here, hard to breathe- it makes every pull worth it. You’re lighting cigarettes off of eachother. You say it calms your nerves, but it doesn’t show.

Texas is the reason: apple soda, frozen poptarts, holister kids: ashley, jamie, renee, my dad, long letters vs. Short emails, laguna beach, zombie make up, dirty, cranberry and vodka minus the vodka.

Oh yeah, I guess some people brought me cigarettes to the show. I don’t smoke. That’s joe who posted that. Also, don’t feel like you have to bring anything.

Take this as it is. Spit: this is the curtain call on desperation. So come out and take a bow. Depression is so 90s. Hit it or quit it. There’s a world out there and I’m almost ready to feel alive in it. This is me telling you no one will ever feel like that again.

Lateralligator.

Peterpan

October 26, 2004

“Everywhere I Go I Keep Her Picture In My Wallet”

Sometimes you take chances. You take and and take. And then you take when you should have folded. Read this as: I’m sorry. Please forgive me. And know its true. No love is unconditional.

See you soon.

….fellas like me only spit lines like we’ve got somthing to prove. And all the boys want to dance with girls like you…..

October 27, 2004

“Where America Goes To Die”

Florida: we’re gonna have a new limited shirt just for you, beginning at the st. Pete show.

Also, if anyone wants to carve pumpkins. Come to the show early and ask for me or our tour manager dan. Here’s the catch. You have to supply the pumpkins, the knives and the spoons.

Peter

October 28, 2004

You know the funny thing is I already know how its gonna turn out. 

Get the book: www.clandestineindustries.com  

- petey

October 30, 2004

“My Wrists Are Black And Blue Cause I Don’t Have The Balls”

Fuck. I wish I could scream this into the screen. I don’t feel too eloquent right now.

Icalled you to save me. Voicemails don’t mean shit these days.

Its not worth the wishes on clocks and eyelashes anymore.

[whatagirlwants]

If I’m being real I don’t think J solo fans like O, they like her more than S but that’s because they think S writing about what happened to them was some great betrayal and making jokes (“this song is not about j/shua b/ssett) is the worst thing she could do, while O hasn’t said anything besides what’s in her songs according to them I guess? Her last song on the subject wasn’t even bad towards him so they’ve loosened up. Plus imo, I think some of them still want her to give him attention or keep them associated for clout.

Some of the S stans I see on stan twitter were jabrinas too. Like straight up use to drag Sabrina for “not having a hit after 10 years.” In order to defend Jbass. Now they ignore him because he’s still singing about O, and a lot of them have always hated O, but if he has an S song on the new album I wonder what they’ll say.

makes sense. They’re mad S wrote about the shit he put her through, made a joke with his name for an outro, whilst moving on with her life. the thing is S doesnt even care anymore yet they think she does. just cause she said in cosmo 2 years ago she was heartbroken and now shes in a different place in context it was about where her music is today. and shes right we can hear the difference from emails to espresso and please please please.

J fans so want the O clout. another thing that makes me cringe is the ones that still ship them. ive seen tiktoks pop up of cringy videos of him or of him and olivia. like you must be 9 to think its cute or adorable.

i dont know many S stans that were jabrinas tbh send me their @ ill stalk from afar. bur dragging HER for HIM is weird. S fans will stoop so low to defend him i never understand why. Let him put out his “disstack” that jbass fans love to brag about so they can see that he is a freak. and btw he so will if hes easily “manipulated” to release “crisis” as he says with S being so popular right now he will try.

i saw his tour thing today a few people posted screenshots, a mess.

[authordanielleforrest]

Fated Mates of the Drakoan: Episode 24

He’s a dragon?

He’s a fucking dragon?

Jess’s eyes bulged as she processed what Van had just told her. How was that even possible? She tried to make sense of it, but it just wouldn’t compute. Sure, there were shape-shifters here on Earth, but they had rules, rules that this dragon’s very existence broke. They couldn’t change into things larger than themselves. Conservation of mass and all that. This thing, however, this thing was definitely bigger than her mate. She wasn’t sure how big exactly, and she certainly didn’t think it was the size of the dragons of lore, but it was still massive.  

“What do I do?” she almost whispered, still a little afraid of him in spite of Van’s reassurances.

“You need to help him calm down. You need to make him realize you’re no longer in danger.”

She nodded, her brain now working through the possibilities.

How could she calm him down?

How could she reassure him?

Better yet, what was he being triggered by now? After all, if he was still in this form, there must be something still setting him off. She turned her focus back to Van. “What would he consider a threat? And what can he sense? What cues is he looking for?”

Van frowned, the expression barely visible in the dim light of the clearing. “I’m… not entirely sure. In theory, every Drakoan is different. What any single person deems threatening will vary. What he can sense, on the other hand, that should be pretty consistent. Most of his senses will be heightened at this point, and he’ll be very focused on you.”

So he can probably sense how freaked the fuck out I am right now.

Great…

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm herself. She closed her eyes, blocking out the world, blocking out her thoughts. Time drifted by, leaving her behind, and eventually, she even forgot about the body pressing down on her.  

When she opened her eyes once again, she was much calmer, and the idea of Davin the Dragon had settled into her brain. It no longer freaked her out the way it had been doing up until that point. It still didn’t feel like him, and maybe at least part of that was because she couldn’t see his face, couldn’t see the man behind the beast. 

And yet she didn’t feel afraid, on edge, or anxious anymore, which was progress, at least. But he also wasn’t miraculously changing back, either. The bellows of his breath still sounded nearby, and his chest still pressed her downward with every inhale.  

And he’s growling.

Why is he still growling?

And then it hit her. “Van?”

“Yes?”

“I want you and the team to go back to the campsite. Give us maybe fifteen minutes and then check back, okay?”

He paused, the moment dragging on uncomfortably. “You… think he’s feeling threatened by us?”

She shrugged, though no one could really see it as Davin had dipped his head down low, even more thoroughly blocking her view. “There’s nothing else here.”

“Okay.” She spotted a little movement, then Van spoke again. “Everyone, move out. Back to the campsite.”

Jess sighed a breath of relief.  

I was right.

They didn’t abandon me.

But then they walked away and silence reigned, not even the night sounds settling in to make up the difference. No, all the creatures of the night still recognized the predator in their midst.  

They wouldn’t be singing anytime soon.

#

Davin didn’t start to calm down until the fear scent and tension left his mate. He was still freaking out and confused, but knowing she was calm was a balm to his psyche.  

And yet, no matter how much of a balm she might pose, he couldn’t escape his current reality.

What’s happening to me?

He wanted to ask, but his mouth and throat felt all wrong. And who would he ask? His mind, though still quite fuzzy, knew intrinsically that his mate wouldn’t know.

Jess. Her name’s Jess.

Why do I keep forgetting that?

He dug his claws into the soft earth beneath him.

And why do I have claws?

Again, he wanted to ask, but he couldn’t. He roared in frustration, causing his mate to jerk once more.

Shit, don’t scare her.

That’s a bad mate.

I don’t want to be a bad mate.

He took a deep breath and released it.

Just stay calm.

As he started to settle once again, he realized that he couldn’t sense any threats anymore. He’d taken out the first wave easily enough, but then a second wave had come shortly after. And they’d been odd. Unlike the first, they’d just lurked on the edges of the clearing, like they were waiting for the opportune moment to strike, but they never did. So he’d chosen to hold still, his body protecting his mate, rather than lash out. If he’d moved, after all, some of them might have attacked her, which was unacceptable.

And his body was big, impossibly big, so curling around her was sufficient to keep her safe. They could attack at him all they wished. He didn’t care. He would take whatever damage they aimed at her if it kept her safe.

But they weren’t there anymore. Nothing was there. In fact, the forest around them was eerily quiet, like a predator was lurking, and it took far too many moments for him to realize that the predator was him.

“Davin?” she asked, her voice quavering a bit.

He didn’t like the sound of that. It made her sound uncertain or even afraid, though he knew she wasn’t afraid. She didn’t smell afraid.  

He curled his head in her direction and nuzzled her, hoping to reassure her. She gasped, then giggled, and he wanted to smile, but yet again, his face wouldn’t cooperate. Warmth filled him, though, at the sound of his mate’s happiness.

My mate feels safe.

She is safe.

I protected her.

An instinctual part of him felt deeply satisfied at that thought. He’d protected her from the creatures trying to kill her. He’d protected her from the intruders.

But… the more he calmed down, the more uneasy he felt about the whole situation. That second wave had felt… familiar. He’d recognized their scents, the cadence of the one speaker’s voice. Why did they feel familiar?

And then it hit him.

I know them.

My team.

Shocked, he pulled back, his body awkward, and finally he looked down, his mind clear enough to understand what had happened.

I transformed.

I shifted.

He was in his Drakon form. As a mated Drakoan, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. He knew this was a possibility. It was an essential element of being mated. It was the main reason his people often shunned biological mating, after all. In modern times, it was terrifying to lose control like this. He remembered almost none of what had just happened. He knew Jess had been in danger. And based on the blood on his arms, the metallic taste in his mouth, and the satisfaction in his chest, he’d definitely dispatched those foes, but he had no distinct memories of doing so.

Davin looked up. Jess was now sitting on the wet ground in front of him. She was covered in blood, looking like she belonged in a horror movie. Her eyes were wide as she took in his appearance, but again, she didn’t seem afraid to him.

He tried to talk, to reassure her, but this form didn’t allow it, and he growled in frustration, causing her to jerk again. 

I’m scaring her like this.

He reared back, then bowed his head in shame.

I can’t be her mate like this.

I need to change back.

His thoughts darted around in his brain, scrambling desperately for information on how to change back, but either his brain was still too fuzzy or he simply didn’t know. He held back another frustrated growl, knowing it would only scare her again.

Why can’t you just do it?

Why isn’t it instinctual?

Change back already, damn it.

But it wasn’t as easy as that. He was definitely calmer now, and he could feel the tension that had driven him to this point rapidly slipping away, but his form had not yet changed.

There has to be a way to force the change.

But he couldn’t remember how. He’d never sought out a mating as Grace had, and he’d never really researched it either. It was something he was aware of but rarely ever thought much about, and now he was paying the price for his ignorance.

“Can you change back?” she said.  

She was leaning forward slightly now, and he wanted to change back more than anything in the world, but he couldn’t. 

He huffed, then a strange lethargy started settling over him. He didn’t know what it was, but he blinked, his eyes growing heavy as well. Then it was like something washing over him. His Drakon form just sort of drained out of him, like paint or dye washing down the drain.

He was himself again, but that didn’t necessarily reassure him. He could now feel the sticky wetness coating himself, feel the ground soaked with blood squishing between his fingers and toes. It was uncomfortable, especially knowing the cause.  

“Oh thank fuck,” Jess said, and she was suddenly in his arms.

He squawked, but couldn’t resist putting his arms around her. “Jess, my mate,” he said, feeling like he’d come home.

She just held him tighter, not saying anything.

They stayed like that for several minutes, and Davin’s mind used the time to torment him with what he’d done. He’d protected her, protected his mate, but he’d also scared her, and now that more details were starting to settle into his brain, he suspected he’d threatened his team. 

How could I do that?

How did I not know it was them?

A part of him hoping he’d imagined it, that he was somehow misinterpreting the chaotic snippets he was wading through in his mind, he hesitantly asked, “Was… my team here?”

“Yes.”

“I growled at them, didn’t I?”

She nodded. “I think you thought they were a threat.”

“Fuck.” He looked down, shaking his head in embarrassment.  

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said, reaching out and cradling his cheek with her tiny hand.

He shook his head, dislodging her her gentle touch. “It’s not okay. I could have hurt them.” He looked at the carnage around them. “I could have killed them.”

“But you didn’t.”

He shook his head. She didn’t get it. “If you hadn’t been so close, if I hadn’t been protecting you with my body, I would have.”

Her eyes widened briefly before she pulled away slightly. Alarmed, he wanted to reach out and drag her back, but he didn’t have the right. This was his fault. He’d broken her trust, and he would need to earn it back. 

Again.

“I’m sorry.”  

She startled, jerking her head back to face him. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I lost control.” He paused, the full gravity of his actions weighing down on him. “How can you ever trust me again?”

She frowned, but then reached out with both hands, cupping each side of his face. “You have nothing to apologize for, Davin. You saved my life. That alien was going to kill me. He’s dead now because of you, and I’m not. Thank you.” Then she leaned forward, kissing him gently on the lips before curling her soft arms around his head and cuddling him close. “You have nothing to apologize for,” she said again as she pressed her cheek to the top of his head.  

Davin sighed in relief, curling his arms around her waist, reveling in her kindness and warmth.  

Thank you.

They stayed like that for an impossible amount of time, and he refused to let thoughts of the future, thoughts of consequences, drift in. They lurked on the edges of his mind, reminding him of what he’d done, but he refused taint this moment for anything. He would cherish it as if it was all he had in the world.

Because for all he knew, it just might be.

[elwenyere]

Dread Capture (Sambucky, Retired WIP)

Author's Note: A couple months ago I posted an extended snip (from a Sambucky Old Guard AU) as part of a WIP retirement ask meme, and I thought I would reshare what I have in its own post to make it easier to find (for me and for any readers). At this point, this is likely going to be all there is to this AU, but I hope some folks will still enjoy a taste. <3

CN: canon-typical temporary character deaths

.....

The first time Sam Wilson died, he had the theme song from The Golden Girls stuck in his head.

Riley had been singing it into his combat boot while they suited up for the last mission: everyone had their own ways of channeling the pre-flight adrenaline, and Riley’s sounded like two cats going at it in an alley. Sam had rolled his eyes and chucked a towel at him at the time, but then sure enough, the fucking tune had been playing on a loop in his mind all the way from Kandahar. 

He couldn’t say for sure whether that had anything to do with what happened as they flew over a low stone wall just east of Belal. Much later, his mind would play tricks on him, adding to his nightmares a blur of movement and a flash like moonlight reflecting off metal. Had he seen it at the time and failed to register what it meant? Could there have been a moment - a split-second when a different choice might have saved their lives? Sam turned the question over and over, but no answer could ever be as final as what had happened: in the instant when it might have mattered, he hadn’t done shit. Their jet had flown straight into the path of the RPG.

That was the first time: a jagged line of fire tearing through his tissue as the combined voices of his dead wingman and Cynthia Fee thanked him for being a friend. 

But even when Sam woke up hours later, thrashing at the canvas sheet covering his face and causing the unit’s medic to leap backward with a choked-off curse, it would still be a full day - twenty-four hours of medical tests and conversations with increasingly concerned military superiors - before the other half of the truth sunk in. That he was alive again meant he was going to die again.

And again and again, according to the man who was sitting in front of him now. 

The dude looked exhausted - and this wasn’t Sam’s first tour, so he knew from exhausted. He’d been cussed at and screamed over by some of the most worn-out motherfuckers in the U.S. Army, but the guy sitting in front of him - all 200 pounds of muscle, thick beard, and furrowed brow - looked tired on a level that strained Sam’ ability to render in language. Bone-tired, his mind tried, and then he had to suppress a shudder as the sensation of fire and metal ripped through his insides again.

“I’m just not tracking with what you’re saying, man,” Sam said out loud, dropping the chain-of-command honorifics, because what the fuck. His best friend was in a body bag, and here he was, with a guard outside the door and not a scratch on his face, so he was pretty sure he couldn’t dig himself much deeper in shit than he already was. “You’re saying I actually died?”

“I know it’s a lot,” the man said. “And you’re in shock.”

Great fucking guess, Sam thought to himself. No shortage of goddamn expert medical opinions around here today. 

But even he wasn’t quite reckless enough to voice that observation where it could be used against him in a discharge hearing, so instead he asked,

“What did you say your name and rank were again?” And then, just belated enough to be pointed, “Sir?”

He expected a rebuke, or at least a scowl, but instead a small smile crept across the man’s face, sloughing off almost a decade of age as it grew.

“I didn’t,” he replied. “And I won’t: not here. My associates and I are going to take you somewhere safe, where we can explain the situation more fully. You’ll be safe with us.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Sam said calmly. “People are already pretty tense here, and I’m going to have enough to explain to my sister without going AWOL on top of it. You come back here with a signed order from my CO, and I’m at your service. Until then, I’m sitting right here.”

The smile on the man’s face turned a little sadder.

“My associates said you’d make me do this the hard way,” he said. And Sam barely had time to realize the man was moving for his gun before a sharp pain cracked through his skull and the whole tent went dark.

–

A hundred years passed before the next impression, or after it - a strip of rusted wire around his windpipe, a blade opening her curled muscle at the seams - and then thousands - the shield’s edge a red welt across his nape as he walked for leagues in the blistering sand - and then there was nothing but pain - white-hot and licking raw lashes through his nerves as his shoulder shredded and he burned up from the inside, again and again and again.

When thoughts returned, they returned wrong, like someone else was rifling through his mind.

“Did you really have to go for the head, Rogers?” a woman’s voice was saying - familiar as the woozy wash of a concussion. “He’s taking an awfully long nap.”

“I forget how slow it is when you’re new,” the man from the tent replied, sounding old and tired and only mildly apologetic for someone who’d shot Sam in the head.

And wait: something about that was definitely wrong.

Sam hurtled upward, breath punching through his lungs, and by the time he’d gotten his fists between himself and his captors, he recognized them all: the man and woman who’d fought each other to the death in a burnt-out building in Berlin, the ancient motherfucker who’d killed thousands before killing Sam. But something was wrong, still. Something was missing.

“Hey, pal,” the blonde man who’d been garroted was saying. “We’re here to help -”

“Where’s the other one?” Sam demanded. “Where’s the guy in the chair?”

All three of them tensed: a shift like the air convulsing inward toward the split shell of an IED. The man they’d called Rogers bent his head, just slightly, as if he’d been caught in the blast.

“The guy in the chair,” the woman repeated. “You saw him?”

“I felt him,” Sam corrected. “I felt him screaming. I felt him dying. Where is he?”

The woman looked at the man who’d killed her - whom she’d killed - and he shook his head, his lips forming a quiet fuck me. Then she looked over at Rogers, the briefest flash of pain crumpling her expression before she smoothed her features back into their deadly, porcelain calm.

“He was taken,” she said. “We don’t know where. We looked -”

“I lost him.” Rogers’ voice was heavier than ever, and Sam could hear the break in it now: the split bone in his center, ossified around a hole. “They were looking for me. They found him first.”

“Who is he?” Sam asked, because he could still see through the captured man’s eyes, still feel the captured man staring through his. I know him, he thought, and it echoed back from the dream: the man in the chair screaming as the missile split Sam’s chest into shards, I know him, I know him.

Rogers gave him another sad smile.

“His name’s Bucky,” he said. “And he’s immortal, like you.”

[simpforsupersoldiers]

Sick 

Bucky Barnes x (Y/N) Reader (Gender non-specified but reader has shoulder length or longer hair) 

TW: Sick reader, headache, throwing up/gagging (slight fear of doing so), crying, self-consciousness, use of pet names, ITS SO FLUFFY IM GONNA DIEEEEE, if I forgot any let me know lol 

You get sick but your boyfriend Bucky takes care of you and cheers you up ♥

You cough helplessly into the toilet, feeling as though your head is about to explode. Your stomach lurches forward once again, causing you to tighten your grip on the sides of the toilet bowl. At this point your stomach is completely empty, so instead of throwing up you are gagging, your body trying to get rid of whatever stomach bug you caught. You start to cry, the fear of not being able to breathe taking over you as you gag once more.  

You hear the front door open followed by a sing songy “Honey I’m hoooome.” James Buchanan Barnes, or as most people know him, Bucky. Your 107-year-old looks like he wants to kill everyone but is a cinnamon roll when he is alone with you boyfriend.  

“Hey James!” You holler back at him, trying to sound normal, “How was your d-” you are cut off by another lurch of your stomach. Oh great, your stomach wasn’t empty after all. 

“You okay Doll?” He says walking into your room and knocking on the bathroom door. “Can I come in?” 

“No, I’m ok Bu-” You gag once more, causing you to let out a quiet sob. 

“I am coming in.” Bucky says 

“No please- I don’t want to get you sick.” Yes, you know, he can’t get sick. He is a Super Soldier, it's impossible, but you look like a mess, only in an old ratty t-shirt and a pair of Bucky’s boxers. Your hair is greasy and dirty. We won't talk about the fact that you have thrown up all over yourself, including in your hair.  

“Thats physically impossible.” He says gruffly, opening the door. You begin to protest but are interrupted by another lurch of your stomach, causing you to gag. “Oh doll-” he says, his steel blue eyes softening into an expression of concern. He quickly kneels onto the ground next to you, gathering your hair to move it out of your face as you gag. He rubs your back with his prosthetic hand, the cool metal sharply contrasting with your burning fever. You let go of the toilet and lean against Bucky. 

“You are so lucky you can’t get sick.” You grumble into his shirt. 

“It means I can take care of you.” He says kissing your sweaty forehead. “I’ll be back.” He says standing up and walking out of the bathroom. You lean your back against the wall and rest your head between your knees.  

The next thing you know you are in your bed and Bucky is sitting on the bed next to you, dabbing your face with a cold and damp washcloth. “Welcome back.” He says softly, “I know you probably aren’t ready yet, but I got you some saltine crackers and some apple juice. You need to get something into your system, your blood sugar is probably low.” 

“Thank you.” You mumble sleepily. “I just want to go to sleep.” You grab his hand, pulling him towards you.  

“Okay- okay- one second.” He says pulling away to place the cloth next a small cup with a straw and plate of crackers, along with a large bowl on your bedside table. “I am setting a timer for three hours and then you need to eat and drink a little, okay?” 

“Mmph” you say in agreement, or at least, that’s how Bucky takes it, climbing under the covers next to you and pulling you close. You lay your head down on his warm chest, falling asleep almost immediately.  

The next thing you know you are startled awake by an alarm. “Time to get something into your system.” Bucky says sitting up to grab the small plate of crackers and cup of apple juice. 

You cover your face with your pillow, your voice becoming muffled “Let me sleeeeep!” You whine childishly. 

“You said you would eat something after you slept for three hours” 

You pick up your pillow and put it behind your back so you can sit up “You can’t hold me accountable to anything I say when I am sick. It’s like I am drunk.” 

“Well, you are certainly getting better.” Bucky says feeling your forhead for a fever, which you no longer have chuckling. “Here, drink.” He says bringing a cup to you and angling the straw so you can take a sip. The sweet taste of apple juice spreads across your tongue and you quickly start to drain the cup, realizing how dehydrated you are. “Woah- slow down there. You don’t want to make yourself throw up again.” he says pulling straw out of your mouth. “I’ll get you some water, in the meantime eat some crackers.” He hands you a small plate of crackers and rises from the bed, walking into the kitchen. 

You aren’t hungry, but you know you need to eat something. You begin to eat the crackers slowly but when your appetite comes back in full swing you make short work of them.  

Bucky comes back in with a glass of water with another straw and sits on the side of the bed. “Oh, good you ate the crackers! I didn’t want to have to force feed you them.” He holds out the water glass, once again with the straw tilted towards you. You raise your hand to grab the glass from Bucky but he swats your hand away lightly. 

“Hey!” you say furrowing your eyebrows “what was that for?” 

“Let me take care of you.” he says glaring... or was that just his resting face? You can never tell with him. 

“I know how to drink water out of a cup James.” 

“Obviously you know how to. You also know how to drink from a straw. So, drink.” He says mockingly holding out the cup with the straw again. 

You huff but then drink around half of the water before pulling away. Bucky puts down the cup onto the bedside table and just looks at you for a second. “Thank you.” You say giving him a soft smile. 

“For what?” he asks, looking genuinely confused. 

“For being here, for making me better, for helping me even though I smell horrible, look like crap, and am a pain in the neck patient.” You laugh. 

“Ok as your amazing boyfriend, it is my job to take care of you always, especially when you are sick. You also are nowhere close to being a pain in my neck. I used to have to take care of Steve whenever he got sick. The kid was as stubborn as a mule. Wouldn’t listen to a word I sai-” He pauses, seeing you trying to hold back a laugh, “What?” 

You start giggling “I’m sorry I don’t mean to-” you glance at his perplexed expression and start laughing harder, “I’m sorry but you just sound so old- As stubborn as a mule? Really?” 

Bucky’s face gains a red tint to it, but he is smiling. “It's an expression!” 

“I know it is! I just don’t hear people say that unless they are older than 60...” 

“I’m 107.” 

“My point exactly.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes and sighs “Just let me finish my romantic speech. I am trying to be one of those boyfriends in those cheesy rom coms you love watching.” 

You smile at him “Go ahead.” 

“I love taking care of you because I love you. I know you would do the same to me if I got sick. Also, you are absolutely gorgeous, and you can’t convince me otherwise.” 

“Ok now you are just lying to my face.” You say giving him a quizzical look. 

“I am not. You are the most beautiful thing to ever exist. But... you do need a shower or bath...” 

“James Buchanan Barnes!” You say slapping his chest, “Rude!” 

Bucky starts laughing “you said it yourself doll. I won't lie to you and say you smell like heaven like you normally do-” He says giving you a wink “when you smell like throw up.” 

You start to get off the bed, but Bucky stops you. “I’m taking a shower jerk!” You say going under his arm and running, or at least walking as fast as you can, to the bathroom. 

“No, you're not. You are going to bed.” He hollers. “Get back in bed.” 

“No, I stink like you said, let me shower.” You say looking in the mirror at your disheveled self. 

“I am coming to get you then!” Bucky says running up behind you and lifting you up in his arms bridal style and walking back into your room. 

“James!” You shriek “No let me shower!”  

“You will shower in the morning you need to sleep. I don’t want you passing out in the shower. I would rather not get my shirt wet.” He chuckles. 

You scowl at him causing him to laugh. “It’s not funny.” 

His face turns serious “You are right. This is a very serious matter. I apologize ma’am.” He says before throwing you onto the bed. “Go to bed.” 

“Okay, okay I will. At least snuggle with me until I fall asleep.” You say yawning and pulling the covers up to your chin.  

“Well... if you insist...” He says jokingly, laying down under the covers next to you and wrapping his metal arm around your waist and his other combing through your hair softly.  

“I love you.” You say closing your eyes, feeling at home in his arms. 

“Even though I am a jerk who acts like I’m a grandpa?” 

“Even though you are a jerk who acts like a grandpa.” You agree jokingly. 

“I love you too doll.” 

“Even though I smell like throw up?” You giggle 

“Even though you smell like throw up.” He says grimly.  

“I am taking a shower in the morning though.” 

“I know.” Bucky says sleepily kissing your temple. “Go to bed.” 

[hyenahunt]

Obbligato: The Baptism of Jun Sazanami - 1

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring, three years ago

Characters: Jun

Proofreading: 310mc (JP) & Skyress (ENG)

Translation: hyenahunt

Jun: But it's not like I could just leave you alone. I mean, it's so shitty of 'em, ganging up on you like that and beating you up.

Time: Spring, three years ago

Location: Reimei Academy, in front of the school gates.

Jun: Damn it all! I'm quitting this school...!

Special Students, my ass! What's so fucking great about those guys, huh!? They just gang up on others and beat the hell outta 'em...!

They can't just get away with this shit! Who do we even take this to? Teachers? The police? God Himself!?

Jun: O-ouch... Ngh~ Think there's a cut in my mouth. Hurts to talk.

...Um, hey, you... okay? You took way worse of a beating than I did, yeah?

I appreciate 'cha patching me up, by the way~ But you should tend to yourself first.

Huh? There's no need for that? You're saying this is the punishment you deserve, and you're used to getting kicked and punched around...?

Jun: Fuck that shit! Whether you're used to it or not, what hurts is gonna hurt anyway! An injury's an injury!

Is there somethin'... I mean—something wrong with what I said!?

Jun: —Wait, sorry 'bout that. There's no point telling you off, huh? You got your ass ki... I mean, you're a fellow victim, too.

Huh? You're asking if my mouth hurts that much since I'm speaking kinda awkwardly?

Jun: Nah~ I just kinda suck at—I mean, I'm bad with formal speech…!

Plus, I don't wanna be all polite with guys who don't deserve my respect!

Jun: Er, wait, it's not that I don't respect you or anything... I just don't really know you, y'see.

But I mean, you're my senior, so I oughta— should be more polite, right?

Yeah? I should do that 'cause Reimei's strict as hell about its pecking order?

So that's how it is, huh~ I did hear it was a school full up of aggressive try-hard elites, I guess?

It promoted itself as being different from that laidback Yumenosaki that's only an idol school in name, see.

I wanted to seriously work at being an idol and all, and wasn't sure if I could get a scholarship there, so I wound up enrolling here in Reimei since tuition's cheaper.

But I kinda feel like it was a mistake... Who’d have thought that some seniors I don’t know would beat the hell outta me on my very first day here?

What's up with that? It's like I accidentally popped into a school you'd see in a manga 'bout punks or something.

...Hmm? Y'mean incidents like this have been more and more common lately? And the Special Students in particular keep taking all their stress out on other guys?

Bullshit! So what if they're stressed!?

Whatever their damn reason, they shouldn't be going around using aspiring freshmen as literal punching bags!

Jun: — Wait, what're you bowing so low for? Like I said, I'm not blaming you for anything.

In fact, I only wanted to help you out~...

I saw you getting kicked around by that snobby-looking gang and ran in to help, but I wound up bitching 'em out instead.

But then they got pissed off at me, and kicked both our asses. I didn't manage to do a thing in the end, huh~ Things really don't go like they do in TV shows or manga...

All I've done since I was a kid was train up in singing and dancing, with not a clue 'bout how to fight, so I gotta admit that was pretty dumb of me to try.

But it's not like I could just leave you alone. I mean, it's so shitty of 'em, ganging up on you like that and beating you up.

What're the police even doing? Isn't this a law-biding country and all that?

Mm? It's how things are? 'Cause that's just the kinda place Reimei is?

Like I said, miss me with that shit! What is this, some kinda parallel world where the laws of Japan don't apply?

Jun: Ahh... Ngh~... Like I said, please don't go bowing so low to me. I'm not some kinda respectable guy who deserves this kinda courtesy from other folks.

Huh? I am respectable? You think I'm a brave person for standing up to some scary guys for the sake of saving a stranger I don't even know?

Jun: Ah, haha... Well, thank you. Not even my parents have ever said somethin' like that to me before.

Ahaha, um, anyway, if we don't get a move on we're gonna be late for the entrance ceremony, huh? We should stop sitting around chatting and head to... the auditorium, was it? Wherever the ceremony's being held.

But I mean, I'm a new student, so I dunno where anywhere like that would be... This school's way too big for no reason.

Hm? Ahh, you'll show me the way there? As a way to pay me back for tryna help you?

Jun: You're pretty conscientious, arent'cha~ I may have wanted to help, but I only got the tables turned on me without doing a thing, so there's nothing to really repay.

But well, thanks to you, my awful first impression of Reimei might be a little better than it could've been.

Like hell I'm ever gonna forgive those douchebags who beat us up, but it's not like the whole school's full of guys like them, huh?

I mean, I ran into someone like you, right? Not even getting hit makes you bear a grudge, and you've been so nice to me even though we've only just met.

I may have started off with the absolute worst luck, but since I'm paying for tuition here and all — maybe it won’t be so bad to see how things go for a lil’ longer.

Alrighty... Well, let's get going, yeah? Please show me the way to the lecture hall, um... What was your name again?

Jun: Hmm, Tojo? With to like the number ten and jo like in condition?[1] Gotcha, then. Tojo-senpai it is~

Jun's asking how Tojo is written - 十条 is made up of 十, the kanji for ten, and 条 from 条件, the kanji for condition (jouken)

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