#it’s so little i have to use an exacto knife and shit

[dykeseinfeld]

i’m currently making a dollhouse miniature tavern that i bought to impress the pretty girl who worked at the toy shop that was hitting on me btw

[bleedingcoffee42]

Speirton drabble I just had to get out of my head after seeing a photo that gave me vibes of post-war, Lip finishing his degree while 'roomates' with Ron.

It was 0700 and Carwood was staring at the cardboard taped to the fridge as he drank his morning coffee.   Moments like this he was glad Ron still was in the army and got up earlier than him because otherwise he probably would have made him late to work.

It had been obvious who took his X-acto, it’s not like the dog ran off with it and he only had one ‘roommate’ to contend with.  One who established early on he could be a bit of a kleptomaniac.  

The top note was his frustrated way of trying to get his shit back so he could complete his presentation model for his engineering class.    They had a million knives in the house, from butter to Hitler’s, and Ron had to walk off with his very specific cutting tool.  It even had his name etched into it!

As Carwood stared at the note, he smiled and shook his head, then went about looking for the knife since Ron wouldn’t do anything to hinder his school progress.   Why the hell did Ron need an X-acto knife anyway?   He put his coffee down on the table and looked at his model building and saw the knife beside it.   He started looking around for something Ron would have used it for, then gave up and went to look in the trash that his ‘roommate’ never remembered to take out.  It was there that he found some local grocery store fliers with holes cut in them and some cardstock from invitations missing people shaped chunks.

So old ‘Killer’ Speirs was now into arts and crafts?  How quickly post-war domestic life had ruined him.   He turned back around to look for somewhere Ron would have stashed his creation, it would be somewhere hidden where nobody would accidentally find it if someone stopped by.  Biggest danger would be one of Lip’s classmates, but the occasional Easy Company man couldn’t be ruled out.  

Ron would keep it in his bedroom, which meant Carwood had looked right past it two days in a row.   He started walking there, eyes scanning the photos on the walls to make sure nothing was added to them.  Nothing.   The house wasn’t huge, he was standing in the doorway of their bedroom fairly quickly.   The master bedroom was decorated by Ron with a handful of high school trophies, his accounting certificate, war commendations and medals, and some trophies he liberated from Nazis.   It gave the appearance that they didn’t share a bedroom--at least to everyone who they didn’t serve with who knew they had been billeting together since Ron ran his ass across Foy.   

Carwood looked around, whatever it would be would be small.  Detailed.   Hidden in plain sight.   Ron’s love language was little tokens of appreciation, little details he’d notice and expand upon to show you he cared, or things he’d think you needed.   

He did need the laugh this morning when he saw the ‘note’ on the fridge.   So that meant Ron had already picked up on his stress level and did something about it.   Something that required an Exacto knife?  Lip walked around the bedroom and checked his own dresser, then nightstand, then moved over to Ron’s.   Nightstand clear but the dresser had a collection of new lighters… and behind them a couple of paper cutouts.   Lip looked closer, and saw a little cardboard bed and table.  The table had a pie courtesy of the grocery store ad, a wine bottle thanks to the liquor store sale announcement, and two people cut from the Winters-Nixon wedding invitation beside it.   Two cardstock people with photo faces glued on them.

Carwood picked one up and looked at it, Ron’s face obviously cut from the photo of him in Bastogne with his damned binoculars.    He put the paper doll down and picked up his own.  A photo from Kaprun, when they took the company photo.   Knowing Ron he had copies made, some abuse of military resources for sure.   Lip looked at the scene and smiled, the two of them with a bed and a bottle and some apple pie?   Yeah, it was one of their moments, the moment Ron told him to shut up and get in the bed and took care of him; because he was sick and trying to work himself to death.

“Just got to get to the end of the semester, Ron.”  Carwood says to the little figure on the dresser before putting his in the bed and Ron’s next to him.  “Just a few more weeks, then I graduate.”

Xxxxx

Later that week, Ron came home drunk from a promotion party Lip had to excuse himself from so he could finish schoolwork   The damned officer’s club ruined the man again.

“Car…” Ron slipped his arms around Lip’s shoulders from behind, as he was sitting at the dinner table, ran them down his chest and kissed his neck.  His garrison cap flopped off as he placed a sloppy kiss on his neck.  “Come to bed with me.”

Lip took a deep breath as he smelled the booze on Ron and heard the thick Boston accent emerge which only happened when Ron was completely wasted.   He moved the garrison cap off his notebook as Ron grabbed a pec with one hand and rubbed his abs with another.  “Ron, I hope you didn’t drive.”

“Nooooo.”

“And no, you’re drunk and I need to get this problem figured out before class tomorrow.  You should go to bed though.”  Carwood sighed as Ron got handsy.   

“Not without you.”  Ron leaned harder on him, the chair tipped forward. He attempted to kiss him but just streaked wet lips across his cheek.

Lip braced against the table.  It was 0200!  “Ron.   I’m pulling an all-nighter here, please understand that.”

“I’ll pull an all-nighter too.”

“No, you won’t.  You’re going to either get to bed and slobber on me and giggle and pass out or start crying.   You do not perform well under the influence of alcohol.”

“Then fuck me sober.”

“I have a headache from trying to figure out this math, I’m no further along to solving it, and I have class in six hours.  How about I get the bed ready for you, with a trash can for whatever you’re going to puke up, and I’ll help you out of your uniform?”

“I don’t spit, I swallow.”

“God, you are fucked up.” Lip says and Ron chooses to try and kiss his neck, leaning way too far over for his own safety.  The slurred Boston accent is making him strain to understand what the hell he’s talking about.  “Come on, get to bed.  That’s an order.”

“God, yes, sir.”

Lip barely slips out from under him and Ron’s face is flushed and eyes glassy.   He should have gone out with him and celebrated, but instead he stayed home to work.   Now he was paying for it.  “Sit down, have some coffee and I’ll be right back. Okay?”

“Mmm.” Ron makes it into the chair and looks at the paperwork as Lip goes to do whatever he was doing.  He hums, picks up a pencil and goes to work.

When Lip returns he hears the pencil on the table before anything else.  Someone writing up a storm. Oh, no.   Last time Ron was drunk and around writing utensils he wrote Forrest Guth a ridiculous letter that he was still hearing about.  Except this time it wasn’t a blank sheet of paper, it was his damned schoolwork that he had been slaving over all week.  “Ron, please tell me you’re not…”

Ron put the pencil down and triumphantly said, “Done! Can we fuck now?”

Lip walks over, hands going onto Ron’s shoulder with a death grip as he looks at what Ron did.   It takes a few minutes for him to really comprehend what he was looking at.  “Ron, did you just solve this complicated engineering equation?”

“Just math.”

“Ron, you did.  How did you…how?”

“MMmm?”

Lip is confused as all get out but Ron is swaying back and forth on the chair and surely not going to answer until morning.  “Okay, let’s see what we can do to sober you up because I need an explanation on how you did this before 8 am.”

“mm‘Kay.”

Xxxx

“I did this?”  Ron asks and looks at the paperwork on the table as Carwood stands next to him.  It’s time for work, his head hurts and he can't stomach coffee.   

“Yes.”  Carwood insists.  “Last night you sat down and solved this and I am sure it is right.  So how did you do it?”

“Huh.”  Ron says as he looks at it and Carwood leans up against him and he glances over.  He can see it, the desperation to know how he did it and he doesn’t exactly have an answer.  “You know how I am when things need to be done, I just do it.”

“Yes, but running across Foy or swimming across the Rhine are both incredibly physical and stupid things to do.  This….Ronald…what the fuck is this?”  Lip asked and shook him as he did so, probably not the best thing to do to a man with a hangover, but he was desperate for answers.

“I solve problems when drunk.”  Ron admitted.  “I just see it, and do it.”

“You have come to my bed and cried.   You have begged me to fuck you on the balcony of the Eagle’s Nest.  You have written a letter to Forrest Guth about everyone getting hurt and dying, me going on furlough and you sounding so unenthusiastic about seeing your wife and baby…”  Carwood stops and looks at the math problem then back at Ron.  “Oh shit.”

“I guess I solve my problems with you when I’m drunk?  I didn’t know how to even score when you were embarrassingly cuddly and needy when drunk. Kinda started then.”

“I was sick.”  

“You were very clearly wrapped around me and wanting to be there and I enjoyed it very much, but it got weird after. Want to blame the German couple who told us we were such nice young men and they were glad America was supportive of people like us.”

“Yeah.  I crossed a lot of lines that night.” Lip remembers. "Was a little too loud about it."

“And you got better?  Your lungs cleared up the next day.”

“So you coming to me when Nix got you drunk while celebrating your promotion…”

“Well, I wanted you, but my first instinct was to go to Grant because he would have just kinda swept it under the rug and never said anything.   But that wouldn’t have solved our problem of how weird you were being because we cured your pneumonia.”

“You got drunk and came to me and cried.” Carwood reminded him.

“I had never been drunk, it sucked.  God, I lost all control.   I was embarrassed.”

“And the letter to Forrest?”  

“He was your friend.   He’s at home visiting your family, seeing your wife and baby and you were  in Scotland without me.   I guess indirectly telling you I was not exactly thrilled about going to see my family was a way to hint things weren’t looking promising.   I don’t know, I was drunk?   Did it do anything?” Ron asks and Carwood looks at him like he’s an idiot.

“I’m living with you, aren’t I?” Carwood asks and Ron gives him a smile that says he still doesn’t have a clue how he solved his homework.

“So, you’re a drunken savant.   I can handle that.  You resort to drinking to solve issues we’re having by being a drunk savant….glad to get that out of the way now.”

“You’re going to ask me what my problem is, aren’t you?” Ron asks.

“Yeah.  You feel ignored because of my schoolwork?”

“No, I want this to be a permanent arrangement and you’re going to graduate soon.   I’m tied to the army, you’re going to have to get a job somewhere.” Ron shrugged and looked at the homework.  “I don’t know how to ask you that without impeding on a decision you make about your future.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Ron.  Except class, with no explanation as to how I worked this out.”  Carwood says and gets a smile from Ron, who then sits down and pulls a chair out for him.   He sits and immediately Ron starts pointing to his work.

“Okay, I started here.   How long did it take me to do all this?”

“Five minutes.”

Ron snorted.  “Wow, maybe I should quit my job and be an engineer with you.”

“Thanks asshole.”  Carwood elbows him in the ribs.  “So, walk me through this.”

“Well, this is algebra.”  Ron says and gets elbowed again.  “Give me some paper and I’ll work it out.   Easier for me to just try to do it again.”

Carwood gives him his notebook.  “Thank you.   For everything.  I’m not going anywhere, Ron.   Please stop getting drunk to talk to me.”

“Did I at least try and stay out of your pants this time?”

“No.”

“Well, at least I’m consistent.”  He says and picks up a pencil.  “Okay, from the top…”     

[whump-or-whatever]

Defiant whumpee who copes with humour dialogue pt. 4

• • •

Caretaker: *upon rescuing Whumpee* “don’t worry, we’re gonna get you home. You’re safe now.”

Whumpee: “yeah yeah that’s great thanks. So listen, can we stop somewhere on the way back? I’d kill for some onion rings.”

• • •

Whumper: “maybe if you did as you were told I wouldn’t have to hurt you.”

Whumpee: “and if you did as you were told you’d have gone to hell by now so I guess neither of us are gonna get what we want”

• • •

Whumper: “your screams are like music to my ears”

Whumpee: “either you need your hearing checked or you’ve got shit taste in music”

• • •

Whumper: “if you tell me what I want to know I’ll let you go”

Whumpee: “trying to get rid of me so soon?”

• • •

Caretaker: *shows up to free Whumpee*

Whumpee: *to Whumper* “aww, just when we were really starting to get to know each other”

• • •

Caretaker: “Whumpee! I can’t believe we found you!”

Whumpee: “I can’t believe how long it took you. Now get me the hell out of here.”

• • •

Whumper: *walks in* “Whumpee, I’m baa-aack!”

Whumpee: “honestly, do you ever shut the fuck up?”

• • •

Whumpee: “please, just let me go.”

Whumper: “and why would I do that?”

Whumpee: “cause I’ll never tell anyone. And I could, uh… I could send you chicken strips. Yeah. I bet you like chicken strips. You seem like the kind of person.”

• • •

Whumper: “you’re not the first prisoner I’ve had. They never last long.”

Whumpee: “well, rip to them but in different.”

• • •

Whumper: *breaks whumpee’s leg*

Whumpee: “Oh no. My leg. It’s broken.”

• • •

Whumpee: *tries to overpower whumper and fails*

Whumper: “what were you thinking?”

Whumpee: “I think I girlbossed a little too close to the sun. I am now experiencing the consequences of my own hubris.”

• • •

Whumpee: “this is about to be the best plan ever”

*20 mins later*

Whumpee: “that was potentially the worst plan ever”

• • •

Whumpee: “what have you got there?”

Whumper: “… a knife?”

Whumpee: “NO!”

• • •

Whumpee: *tossing a rock around cause they’re bored*

Whumper: “what are you doing with that rock”

Whumpee: “it’s name is Robin and we’re engaged to be married so if you could show a little bit of respect that’d be great.”

• • •

Whumper: *pulls out an exacto knife*

Whumpee: “what are y’all like running low on funding or some shit? Shopping at the dollar store now? Cutting costs?”

• • •

Feel free to add!

[brella-boi]

Building Dango: Part 2

I actually finished this step a couple weeks ago but was too busy to post with con prep, so here it is now!

In this edition were getting the EVA foam together. I got a big ole cutting board before starting for about 7 quid so its easier to cut out the large shapes.

But first! Tracing.

We got ourselves the paper pattern to trace and slightly edit. Drop that sucker on the foam. And start cutting.

For the eyes I am planning to have them domed. Which means I got these googly eyes im going to deface to steal the plastic dome from.

Cutting the circle was honestly the most nerve-wracking part of this, and I did it in 4 segments just to be as careful as possible.

I wouldng exactly call cutting the EVA foam easy tbh. I was using mainly 10mm super high density foam as the base structure. That is to make sure that the base head is strong and isnt going to warp during movement. My exacto knife wasnt entirely... long enough to cut through it in one go, and I wouldnt say I was strong enough to do that even if it could lol. My arm and hand hurt afterwards, and theres some parts that came out a little crooked.

A lot of EVA sculptors cut their edges at an angle, and honestly, i was too scared to do that and mess up the angle with how *rough* cutting this already was. So I opted for just simple straight edges. I probably shouldve added some extra space here or there and thought about the fact this foam is 10mm thick. But oh well.

Whats important is its cut and we can move onto gluing.

Now we could use hot glue, or super glue. But the recommendation from Pros is Contact Cement. So thats what were gonna use.

Honestly this was pretty easy. You mark one side and swipe it down evenly with a scrap piece, you leave it to dry for like a minute or two, do the second piece where the first is gonna connect. Let that dry. Then put the two pieces together. Revolutionary shit im telling you. The bond is so damn strong too im shook.

Theres several parts I wasnt too happy about though. The top and longest piece wasnt long enough and ill need to compensate for it later. And some cuttings werent identical like I wanted. The biggest issue was the fact I didnt take into account the thickness of the foam overlapping at the jaw. So its. Well it doesnt exactly fit right now. But that will be fixed with sanding. A lot of sanding.

Youre probably looking and pointing at the black pieces of foam too. Thats 4mm low density foam. I wanted it for building details.

For the horn I ran into the problem of it possibly being heavy. And with its placement, it needs to be *light*. Initially I was going to use three pieces of 10mm high density foam. But that sucker weighed about 70 grams together. Thats. A lot. To be put on the tip of the mask.

You may be quick to suggest to carve out two pieces of low density foam as the horn, bend it, and make it hollow. And to that I say: im not experienced enough with eva foam to do that and also i dont want it to get crushed inside a luggage into a deflated Thing.

So i tried to weigh up the difference between the low and high density. And it turns out i can just use 2 pieces of low density foam that equal the size of the high density one, but it weights *half as much*. So instead i used high density as the core of the horn, surrounded by 4 pieces of low density. Which reduced the horn to about 40 grams! Yippe!!

And with it all put together... it is super blocky. And i am dreading figuring out how to sand it, and actually make it wearable.

[burialboy]

bit of a weird question but do you think you could, if willing, make a little tutorial how to make that little paper doll?

Not a weird question at all, let's get into it:

First off, heres all the shit you will need to make your very own riley little doll

-Thin cardboard, I used a coke box -An exacto-knife or something equivalent, you could probably use scissors if your silhouette isn't too complex -Paper, probably -Paint, or markers, or whatever you can get your hands on -Something to pin the limbs together, I used thread for Riley due to character stuff but split pins/paper fasteners probably work better (He has a habit of loosening despite my best efforts)

I started off by pasting paper over the printed side of my cardboard and drawing out all the body parts I wanted, sort of like this:

This isn't the exact body plan I used for Riley but it gets the point across. Feel free to use this plan anyway. The X marks are (roughly) where you'd punch holes to later connect the pieces, however, if you want to use thread you'll have to make two holes in each spot, see: above close up of Riley's arm.

Alternatively, you could just start painting your pieces without pasting paper onto the cardboard but this is just how I did it.

After that, I cut out the body parts, painted them, threaded my red string with a needle, and tied them together. For his hair I just used paper cut into shape and pasted them onto the head piece, it adds a bit of depth.

If I attempted this little project again I would definitely use embroidery thread instead of the thin sewing thread I had on hand, so keep that in mind if you want to try this with string.

Also: If you do make a doll using my choppy ass method, make sure to show me, I'd love to see it

[leam1983]

Stupidity

Today's a Sunday, I usually don't take work calls on weekends, but Walter rang me up as a heads-up, telling me one of his underlings would call me in a few minutes, sounding... excessively panicked.

So, we've got morons in the Sales force that attended a concert Friday night and kept their phones in the outermost pockets of their backpacks. Someone with an Exacto knife and a few rolls of tinfoil went to work while they stood in front of their seats, noticing absolutely jack squat.

"We've got contacts on speed-dial!" says the douchebag. "We can't lose 'em!"

I sigh. "And you never thought to export your address book in CSV format?"

A long silence. "What's a CSV?" I beat back the urge to strangle them over 5G network coverage.

"You're running an Android. With a little luck, Google will have a reasonably recent image of your phone in stock. Get yourself a burner, reconnect using your Google creds and you should be able to recover your address book. Past that, for the love of shit, export it once a month."

From contrition, he moves to curiosity. "So where's my phone now?" I mostly just blow a raspberry and steer my mental map of the world towards Shenzhen, China, and particularly towards a small neighbourhood that's within twenty minutes on foot of Apple's Foxconn factory, which is known to take local and small-scale contracts on top of Apple's. Think refurbing Androids to sell on Wish, for instance. A neighbourhood that, notably, has a handful of iPhone repair and resell shops that everyone who's either watched Strange Parts or tried to hack an iPhone knows about. Foxconn's had a hard time of late, and some middle managers were caught running smuggling rings for prototype builds or B and C-grade installs that would easily get lost in the shipment volumes.

"Long story short, my guess is your phone is currently wrapped in tinfoil and stuck at the back of something inoccuous, like a shipment of clothes or furniture headed for China. Within a week, you'll find its gutted corpse across seven or eight Pixel 6 refurbs, all of them tied to Chinese IMEIs."

He's obviously flustered. "Why would they do that?"

I try and verbally convey a shrug. "Microelectronics are a bitch to source, thanks to the pandemic and Ukraine, among a few other factors. Why wait a month for a handful of factory-new Google-designed cameras when you can swipe used ones at the cost of something as annoying as Western laws?"

[cevansbrat0007]

Late Night Fright

Summary: What happens when your home alarm goes off in the middle of the night? What happens when your greatest fear comes to life? Andy Barber x  Black Reader, Bianca Barber, Katrina Barber

Read the Sequel: After That Late Night Fright

Warnings: Fear, Violence, Protective Reader, Protective Andy, Scared Kids, Home Invasion, Gun Violence, BiBi Barber, KitCat Barber, Minors DNI

A/N: This is dark, well darker than what I’ve written for this series, but it’s been in my head for a while. Let know your thoughts. Part of my Growing Pains Series. Please send me your feedback, friends!

___

It was 2:36am...

You and Andy shoot out of bed the moment the alarm goes off. 

Shit! Was someone in the house? Oh God! You think. 

“Andy!” You hiss. “Holy fuck!”

He pulls out a gun from the nightstand next to him and cocks it, before handing you an exacto-knife he’d been using from some DIY project earlier in the week. 

“Y/N, baby, you go get the girls, take Katrina to Bianca’s bedroom. Lock the door, call 911, and don’t open it for anyone isn’t me or a fucking cop. Understand?”

You nod, trying not to cry as the alarm system keeps blaring. 

“Be careful, Andy. Please?” You whimper.

“You got it. I love you. Stay behind me for a moment, alright? When I say go, you go.”

“I love you too.” You whisper.

The two of you inch out into the hallway, both looking around for anything that seems off.

“Go!” Andy hisses. “I fucking love you.”

You make it to Katrina’s bedroom, only to realize she’s not there. Heart in your throat, you run to Bianca’s bedroom. Please, God. Let them be together!

You are beyond grateful when you see the two of them clinging to each other.

“Mama, it’s loud!” BiBi yells.” Throwing the door shut, you make sure to lock it before throwing your arms around them. They’re both crying, and so are you. 

“I know, babies. It’s gonna be okay.” You whisper. 

“Wan’ Dada. Wan’ Dada bad.” KitCat cries.

“Me too.” BiBi whimpers. 

“Shhh. Daddy is just fine.” You hoped. Grabbing your phone, you dial 911.  

Dispatcher: 911. What is your emergency?

You: Our home alarm system is going off and I think there is an intruder in our home.

Dispatcher: Okay, have you seen anyone?

You: No. I’m holed up in a room with my two little daughters. But my husband is Andrew Barber, the county District Attorney. I need someone to come now. Please! 

Dispatcher: Okay, ma’am. I got that. I’m dispatching some cars to you now. In the meantime, I want you to stay on the phone with me. 

You: Okay, okay. 

“See girls? We’re all gonna be okay.” You kiss their cheeks, their ears, their foreheads. 

Dispatcher: How long has the alarm been going off?

You: Not quite sure, maybe about ten minutes. My husband has a gun. I haven’t heard a gun go off, so maybe it’s nothing but -”

And then you see the knob turn. And then you hear someone lean against the door, like they’re throwing their whole weight against it. 

“Shhh!” You hiss at your girls. “Quiet!”

That wasn’t Andy. And it wasn’t a cop.

You: Someone is in our house. They’re at my baby’s door. I have to go. 

Dispatcher: Ma’am, stay on the line with me. We’ll have officers to you within the next five minutes, just stay -”

You end the call. The doorknob continues to rattle, and now the person on the other side is slamming themselves against the door. It was going to break any moment. You knew it.

Making a quick decision, you grab both of your girls and put them in BiBi’s closet. “Mama loves you so much.” You tell them both. The banging gets louder. “But right now, I want you to hug each other. Good. And Mama needs for you both to be quiet. Not a sound, okay? Not a sound. And do not move. I’m gonna make the bad person go away. But shhh!” And then you take BiBi’s hamper and dump the clothes on top of them, as well as a sheet. 

Now it looked like you just kept an untidy closet. Fine by you.

You shut the closet door, just in time for the bedroom door to burst open. You keep the exacto-knife hidden behind your back. 

“Hi, you fucking cunt.” The strange man growls. “Looks like it’s just you that’s home tonight, huh?”

“Looks like it.” You respond. 

“But if that’s the case, then how come you’re hiding in one of your baby’s rooms?”

“Hmm?” You mutter as you subtly angle your body in front of the closet door. 

“Shame your husband’s not here. I owe him.”

“Oh, wow.”

“I was hoping he’d be here. Along with your girls. Spent all this time imagining his face when he saw their lifeless bodies. Guess I’ll have to settle for you. Maybe I’ll fuck you first. I’m sure he doesn’t give it to you right, you little fucking slut.”

Keeping the knife behind your back, you use your thumb to push the blade out as far as you can manage.

“Where are your precious baby girls?” He growls.

“With their grandma tonight. Thank goodness.” You lie. “Since it’s me by myself, this seemed like a good place to hide.” You keep yourself in front of that closet. You would die before he got to them.

“Well, lucky you, Huh, bitch? Hope you like being split open on a real man’s cock. Maybe, I’ll record this shit.” He lunges towards you, prompting you to slash out with your knife. You manage to gouge his chest. And then you let out the loudest scream you can manage. 

“Ahhh!” He snarls. “What the fuck? You dumb bitch, I -”

You hear the thud of heavy footsteps racing up the stairs. Andy. You think. Please be Andy. And then you see him, you see your man as he steps into the room.

Andy. He was okay.

“Go near my wife again, and you’re gonna die, asshole.” Your husband snarls.

“Y/N,” Andy growls. “Grab the girls and take them downstairs. You call the cops?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay, go.” 

Knowing your husband had the gun trained on the man, you rip open the closet door, throw off the clothes and grab both of your girls in your arms. And then you run towards the stairs. 

“I love you!” You call out as you do so. Just in time to hear a BANG. 

You didn’t know it then, but Andy had shot the man in the leg.

You set your girls down just as the police arrive. But you’re already a sobbing, sweaty mess. You open your front door, identify yourself, and point them upstairs, while your two girls are huddled in the dining room. 

God, how were you going to fix that?

You literally crawl back into the dining room while all of the commotion is happening. You have the books Goodnight Moon and Sanji and The Baker, in your hands. 

“Hi, ladies. What-say we read something nice while the good guys get rid of the monster upstairs?”

They both nod. 

“Okay, let’s start...”

END

[a-dead-tea]

Haiii ! How are you and may I request another part for the tiny villain story ! Its really good and I love ittttt

Hello! I'm doing good, thanks for asking! =D Here is the next part to Tiny Villain, as requested!

The person who inspired this: @whumpwillow Link

-CW: Captivity Whump, Villain Whumpee, Tiny Whump, Cutting Skin, Broken Bone, Stranding-

Tiny Villain (Part Three)

Part one Next

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

Villain’s semi-healed leg throbs as they dangle from the cork-board on Hero’s wall.

Two drawing pins stuck through their sleeves being the only things keeping Villain from plummeting to the floor once again.

Sweat drips down Villain’s face as they internally beg the pins not to move.

“Consider yourself lucky Medic was available and willing to help fix your mistake,” Hero comments snidely, as they search a desk drawer.

“If the bite you gave me had gotten infected, well, let's just say you wouldn’t be able to use that stupid little mouth of yours,” Hero utters, glancing at their once again flawless finger.

Villain’s arms tingle, growing numb as they support the body attached to them.

“There we are,” Hero murmurs, removing their hand from the drawer, an exacto knife in their grip.

Hero lets out a satisfied hum before turning to face Villain.

Villain scowls, “You think you’re so tough, don’t you? Why don’t you change me back so you can pick on someone your own size?”

Hero chuckles as they come closer, “Why would I want to? It’s going to be so much easier for me to tear you apart this way.”

“Here I thought you were a hero,” Villain says, holding back a shudder. “Turns out you’re just as bad as me.”

“Quite the contrary, dear,” Hero states as they pull the cap off of the X-Acto and discard it on the floor. “Good punishes evil. If I hurt you, a villain, that makes me good.”

Villain scoffs, “criminals kill and beat the shit out of each other all the time. What makes you any different?”

Hero smiles as they put the blade to Villain’s lips, effectively silencing them.

“What makes me different is that I do it lawfully.”

Villain would roll their eyes at the bullshit excuse if they weren’t watching the knife on their mouth.

Hero trails the knife from their face and down their neck, stopping at their shirt collar.

“I wonder how much of your shirt I can cut away before you drop,” Hero says as they put more pressure on the knife.

Villain sucks in air through their teeth from the sting of pain, a bit of blood dripping down to their shirt.

“Stop-”

In an instant, Hero removes the blade and uses their other hand to press down on Villain’s bad leg, not even giving Villain the chance to finish their sentence.

Villain lets out a pained scream, back arching impulsively.

“I’m sorry, did you just tell me to stop?” Hero asks, amused at both the request and Villain's reaction.

Villain frantically kicks the side of Hero’s hand with their good leg, tears streaming down their face.

“What makes you think you can tell me what to do?” Hero questions as they add more force to Villain’s leg, the pressure threatening to snap it.

Villain bawls, desperately trying to pull the pins loose from their sleeves so they can use their hands to defend themself.

“You’ve lost all of your power and influence over this world,” Hero watches as Villain struggles, a smile on their face. “You have no more power over me than a doll. A disgusting, wretched, and feeble doll.”

A good moment longer and Hero pulls their hand away from Villain.

After the villain lets out a cry of relief, they go limp, trying to regain their now lost energy.

Hero hums, raising the exacto knife to Villain’s face once again.

Villain flinches, turning their head away to avoid the blade.

Hero tsks disappointedly, “breaking already? Pathetic.”

“F-fuck you, cunt,” Villain spits, closing their eyes tightly as the knife makes contact with their cheek.

“Thanks but no, I have standards, doll,” Hero responds as they drag the blade across Villain’s face, leaving behind a bloody line.

Hero draws their hand back for a second, inspecting their work before bringing the blade to Villain’s forehead and dragging it down, over Villain’s eye and to their chin.

Villain’s tears mix with blood in a painful mess as they sob quietly, their leg throbbing excruciatingly and half of their face feeling like it’s on fire.

“Your face is almost bearable,” Hero says thoughtfully, twirling the exacto knife in their hand.

“Almost,” Hero repeats, their eyes musing over Villain.

Hero’s cell phone vibrates on the desk, causing them to glance over.

“Shit, I’m late,” they mutter, placing the exacto knife on their desk before collecting their things.

Villain watches through their unharmed eye as Hero walks towards the exit, coat over their shoulder, briefcase in hand.

“I’ll figure out what’s still irritating me about your face over the weekend,” Hero informs Villain as they open the office door and flick the light switch, coating the room in darkness.

Villain feels panic grip their heart, the last rays of light leaving as Hero shuts the door behind them.

“Wait! You can’t just leave me here!” Villain shouts, thrashing against the corkboard.

With the click of a lock, Hero is gone, leaving Villain in almost complete darkness.

The only source of light, and the only thing Villain can see, is the dull red numbers on the clock on Hero’s desk.

[iridescent-petrichor]

the elevator

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: y/n has a panic attack

Words: 1.9K

A/N: Okay so I wrote this about a month ago but I still don’t know if I like it or not. I feel like it’s just not well written, but it’s as good as I can do so hope you enjoy!

In your two years of battling monsters and telepathic little girls, and other dimensions, you never knew you’d have to face evil Russians broadcasting a secret code across Hawkins, Indiana, with your little brother, your boyfriend, a girl from your highschool, and Lucas Sinclair’s younger sister.

The five of you hesitantly approached the box in the middle of the room. You put your hand on Dustin’s shoulder, not sure if you were trying to comfort him or yourself. Erica pulled an exacto-knife from her backpack, handing it off to Steve so he could cut open the box. Once he did, you all saw the top of a metal container. You didn’t work at the mall, but it definitely didn’t look like the usual inventory.

Steve reached forward, twisting the top. With a hiss of air, he pulled it off to reveal four smaller containers. From your angle, none of you could see the contents of them. Curiosity continued to rise between all of you, and you couldn’t help leaning forward to try to get any sense of what was inside.

“That’s definitely not Chinese food.” Steve set the top of the container on top of another box, before reaching for one of the handles. “Uh, maybe you guys should, you know, stand back.”

You moved back a couple of steps with Robin and Erica, silently trying to tell your brother to do the same.

“No.” He said, not taking his eyes off the box. You looked up at Steve, shrugging helplessly.

“Just… Just step back, okay?”

“No.”

“Step back-”

“No!”

“Seriously.”

“No!” Dustin repeated, finally getting Steve to stop and look at him. “If you die, I die.”

You rolled your eyes at how dramatic he was, trying to ignore the pit of anxiety growing in your stomach. It had been many months since any of you had to deal with fighting off demodogs, and the Hawkins Lab was shut down now, but the idea of secret Russians setting up shop in Hawkins made your heart drop.

  Steve stared him down for a couple seconds, before shrugging. “okay.” He reached back into the box, twisting, and pulling one of the containers out. He held it up, and you stepped forward when you saw the unfamiliar green liquid encased in a glass cylinder. “What the hell?”

“What is that?” Robin asked.

Before anyone could even try to respond to her question, you all felt a rumbling around you. The entire room seemed to shift for a moment, effectively catching everyone’s attention. The pit in your stomach grew painfully, and you moved closer to your brother and boyfriend for some semblance of safety.

“Was that just me, or did the room move?” Dustin asked, glancing around before his eyes landed on you. You shook your head, indicating it was not, in fact, just him, and moved towards him some more.

“Booby traps.” Erica whispered, not at all helping your anxiety.

When a mechanical whirring noise started, you wrapped an arm around Dustin, exchanging fearful looks with Steve.

“You know what? Let’s just grab that and go.” Robin yanked the container of weird liquid out of Steve’s hand, and turned to the exit. Dustin immediately obeyed, turning around to press the “Open Door” button. After pressing a couple times, the door had yet to budge.

“Is it not opening?” You whispered, feeling Steve’s hand grab yours in a silent reassurance.

“Which one do I press, Erica?” He ignored you, continuing to press the buttons on the keypad.

“Just press the damn button, nerd.” She retorted.

“Which one? I’m pressing the button, okay?” Dustin said, raising his voice while he continued to press the button.

“Press open door.” Erica mimicked his tone, growing frustrated.

“I’m pressing open door!” Dustin yelled back.

Steve released your hand, frustration taking over. “Just open the- press the other button.”

Without Steve to ground you, you suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe. Even if you wanted to stop the argument that was unfolding before you, you could barely find the words to calm your friends down.

  “Guys, get out of the way so she can push the button-” Robin tried to talk the group down, but Steve had already shoved Dustin to the side to try it himself.

“Would you stop?” Steve urged Dustin.

“I’m trying.” He shot back, glancing at him for a moment before turning his attention back to the buttons.

“Would you let me just do it? Would you stop?” Steve continued to argue, smashing random buttons to see if any would work.

“Just open the door!” Robin started to yell as well; anxiety evident in her voice.

Another mechanical clang resounded through the room, effectively shutting everyone up. You were pressed up against one of the walls trying to calm yourself down. Being in an enclosed space seemed so much more terrifying than when you had to fight the demodogs. At least then you had space to run if something went awry.

A moment of silence fell over the room; the calm before the storm, it seemed, because the room was suddenly plummeting down to god knows where.

You dropped to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, screaming.

  You buried your face in your knees, barely even able to process everyone else screaming as you fell to your presumed death. Your hands were shaking uncontrollably now, and you pulled them together in an attempt reduce the amount they were trembling.

“Shit! Shit!” Dustin screeched, pressing any buttons to try to reverse what was going on.

“We’re going down! We’re going down!” Steve yelled, gripping one of the boxes to stay steady.

“Yeah, no shit, Harrington!” Robin replied, holding on to one of the shelves for dear life.

“Why don’t these buttons work?!” Dustin’s voice was shrill as he continued slamming the buttons. You squeezed your eyes shut, praying that this was some insanely vivid nightmare.

“Press the button!” Erica’s voice reminded you that it wasn’t, and you hugged your knees tighter to your chest.

“What do you think I’m doing?!”

“Come on, press something!” Just press the button!” Steve interjected, waving his arms around in desperation.

“Push it!” Erica screamed, the two kids now slamming every button they could, to no avail.

Suddenly, the room came to a halt. Everyone – except you, considering you were already on the floor – fell to the ground.

Everything felt so unreal – which was something considering what you’d been through. You knew your friends were talking, but their words went in one ear and out the other. You kept your head down, trying to control your breathing, not taking notice of the hot tears that were streaming down your face. It was the most helpless you’d ever felt – you couldn’t even control your shaking body. When you tuned back into the conversation happening around you, you heard Dustin speak.

“-we’re stuck in here.” Dustin muttered.

Great. You picked your head up, looking around the elevator for Steve. He was about a foot away, next to Robin at the buttons. While his presence calmed you slightly, you couldn’t have felt more hopeless and scared. You were trapped in a room with no places to hide - unless you could fit behind a pile of small boxes - miles away from anyone that could help you, and you had no weapons. You were like sitting ducks for whatever Russians awaited on the other side of the door. With a glance towards Dustin and Erica, your heart sank even more. They could die down here; they’re too young to be here. Why did you agree to bring Erica along? You hadn’t even noticed Robin’s gaze fixed on you. It was so hard to breathe, but no one else seemed to be having any issue with it, and why the fuck couldn’t you stop shaking?

“Just so you nerds are aware,” Erica’s voice felt distant, and you almost couldn’t hear her over the sound of your own heartbeat. “I’m supposed to be spending the night at Tina’s, and Tina always covers for me. But if I’m not home for Uncle Jack’s party tomorrow and my mom finds out you four are responsible, she’s gonna hunt you down, one by one, and slit your throat.”

Steve was practically shaking from frustration as he leaned forward on the boxes in front of him. “I don’t care about Tina-”

“Steve.” Robin’s voice was barely audible, but her eyes were trained on you, curling in on yourself.

“-Or Uncle Jack’s party!”

“Steve.” Robin tried again, worry etched in her voice.

“Your mom’s not gonna be able to find us if we’re dead in a Russian elevator!”

“Steve!” Robin’s voice made him stop. He turned to her expectantly, but she didn’t take her eyes off you. He looked down, cursing under his breath before dropping to his knees in front of you in an instant.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice was gentle, not bothering to turn around when Dustin continued talking about a way to climb out of there. “Hey, you okay?”

You shook your head, just slightly, keeping your eyes shut tight. When another tear rolled down your cheek, Steve’s hand instinctively shot up to wipe it away before he froze, inches away from your face.

“Can I touch you?” As soon as you nodded, he used his thumb to wipe the tear off your cheek. His hand fell, gently rubbing up and down your arm. “We’re gonna be okay, y’know.”

He shifted his position, sitting as he rubbed your back as you tried to gulp down air.

“When we get outta here, we’re gonna have so much ice cream, okay?” He joked, smile widening when he saw the shadow of a grin on your face. You nodded weakly, putting your head on his shoulder. Your breathing was still shaky, but you felt yourself calming down a little. “You know I’d never let anything happen to you right? Or Dustin.”

“We shouldn’t have brought the kids.” You respond quietly, without looking at him. The room is empty besides you, and fear crawled painfully back up your throat for a moment to realize it was because everyone climbed to the top of the elevator. “What if-“ you stopped, taking a breath. “What if we don’t make it out?”

“We will. We’ve dealt with worse.”

“We had Eleven. And weapons. And Erica and Robin don’t even know about-” Steve cupped your face with his hand, making you stop.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

You nodded, not entirely believing him. He continued to rub your back, placing a kiss on your forehead. While you weren’t fully calm, you tried to let yourself relax a little bit as Steve comforted you.

With the newfound silence you were able to catch your breath, and Steve did everything in his power to distract you from the current situation.

A couple minutes had gone by before you stopped shaking. “I’m okay.” You whispered to Steve, who promptly helped you stand. “Well- okay as I’ll ever be trapped in a Russian elevator.”

Steve laughed, and you were glad to share a quiet moment with him. Little did you know, spending the night in a Russian elevator would be the best part of the next 24 hours.

[sh-rare-pair-exchange]

You Are the Truth I Choose to Bend Myself Around

For @thatnerdemryn I could not decide between the different tropes you listed so I didn’t. I decided to write a little bit of each one instead.

Summary: No matter the when, where, or how, Clary and Isabelle will always find (and fall in) love. Or, 6 short Clizzy stories

Read on ao3

Chapter one: Hurt/Comfort

“Ouch!” Clary says, the exclamation swiftly followed by a string of curses. Pulling her hand away from the paper before she can ruin it she looks down to survey the damage. Blood from the surprisingly deep cut she just made into her finger pools quickly and drips onto the floor - but thankfully not on her artwork - as she grabs a towel and spins around in place to try and spot a better solution for her injury. Looking around the room as she turns, her eyes scan for a box of bandaids or even some scrap fabric, anything she can use to stop the bleeding.

Nothing.

For someone as accident-prone as she is, Clary wonders why she doesn’t have any bandaids anywhere… then remembers it’s probably because she used them all. That makes more sense. Clary manages to wash the cut off well enough, which is step one. Unfortunately, unable to find any bandages around her room she decides to fold up a piece of paper towel and tape it against her finger instead.

As far as makeshift bandages go it’s pretty good, even if the cut still stings like hell underneath the abrasive towel. She knows she should probably go down to the medical bay and have someone there wrap it up properly. She could at the very least track down her own stele to use an iratze on herself and heal it completely, but Clary’s in the sweet spot of her creative process, and doing either of those things will totally take her out of the zone.

Instead, Clary returns to her project with a haphazardly taped-up finger, picks the Exacto knife back up, and tries to be a little more careful about not letting it slip this time around. It hurts to bend but it isn’t about to fall off in the next hour, so she promptly sets about ignoring it entirely. In no time Clary’s back to cutting shapes out of colorful pieces of paper and gluing them onto the collage she’s in the middle of creating, humming to herself, and getting lost in the flow of her work.

With her headphones in, Clary is so focused on the canvas in front of her that she doesn’t notice the door open and close behind her, or hear the click of heeled boots cross the room. A tap on her shoulder catches Clary entirely off-guard, causing another slip of the knife that slides across her palm when she jerks her arm back and spins around in surprise.

Her first thought is that it’s someone here to kill or kidnap her. Her second thought is that if they were they probably wouldn’t have tapped her on the shoulder first.

Much to Clary’s relief it isn’t a murderer behind her, only Isabelle - something Clary’s extra grateful for because instead of holding onto the small blade to defend herself she dropped it to the floor in her shock. Embarrassing for a Shadowhunter, she thinks ruefully.

“Shit, Iz, you scared me half to death!” Clary exclaims, pulling her injured hand in towards herself.

“You’re bleeding,” Izzy says, ignoring Clary’s words to focus on her injury instead.

“It’s fine, I’ll deal with it in a minute. I’m out of bandaids anyway,” Clary dismisses, ready to shrug it off. Before Clary has a chance to move away Isabelle reaches out to grab her hand and inspect it, which is when Izzy notices the shoddy wrap on Clary’s finger from earlier.

Clary immediately averts her gaze as she feels Izzy’s eyes narrow into an accusing glare.

“Any other injuries I should know about?” Izzy asks, already pulling her stele out of the pocket of her jacket.

“Just those two,” Clary promises. “They aren’t that bad, really.”

“You need to take care of yourself, Clary,” Izzy insists, holding Clary’s hand gently in order to draw the iratze on Clary’s skin. Izzy proceeds to blow cool air over the fresh sting of it and Clary closes her eyes at the sensation. It soothes more than just the lingering sting - it calms Clary as well, quieting her busy mind in a way only Isabelle’s presence can. “If not for yourself, then for me. Please?” Izzy tacks on, looking from Clary’s hand back up to her face with a sincere plea of concern.

Isabelle’s deep brown eyes look at her with such obvious care that Clary can do nothing to stop the flush she feels across her cheeks. When Izzy brings a hand up to brush against Clary’s cheek, Clary realizes she doesn’t want to stop it even if she could. Whatever Clary did to warrant someone as amazing as Isabelle worrying about and caring for her, she’s thankful for it.

“Yeah. I guess I can do that,” Clary agrees.

“Good,” Izzy says, dropping her hand from Clary’s cheek to Clary’s injured hand, placing a kiss over the newly healed skin. “Now put away the sharp objects and come get dinner with me. I’m sure you haven’t eaten today, have you?”

Clary winces apologetically in reply, accepting the offered hand and leaving the last of her work for later. There are few things that can pry Clary Fray away from her artwork, and Isabelle Lightwood is - and always will be - at the top of that very short list.

Chapter 2: Enemies to lovers

Clary turns around abruptly when someone runs straight into her on their way into the club. She’s unsurprised to see the person who shoulder-checked her is a hot blonde, her heels clicking confidently as she walks away without a second glance back at Clary.

“Hey, why don’t you watch where you’re going!” Clary shouts after her, hands shooting up into the air a bit dramatically in her moment of annoyance. Clary might not be stereotypically attractive but she likes to think she isn’t unremarkable enough to be rendered entirely invisible, either.

“You can see me?” the girl asks, stopping abruptly to take a step back toward Clary.

Clary hesitates, the muscles in her body tensing slightly as her brain kicks into immediate ‘fight or flight’ mode - after all, she hadn’t planned on the girl actually stopping, she was mostly just yelling for catharsis. It’s her birthday and so far nothing about this day has gone the way she hoped, and snapping at a stranger seemed like a good outlet in the moment. Now that she’s facing her head-on, Clary isn’t so sure.

In the end, Clary’s instincts choose to fight and she stands her ground. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point, but you obviously didn’t see me.”

The girl takes another step closer and Clary isn’t sure she should use the blonde hair as her defining trait - upon closer inspection that’s almost positively a wig. Clary has plenty of other features to focus on, like those bold red lips turned down in focused concentration and eyes that hold a surprising sharpness to them as they survey Clary up and down.

“You have the Sight” The girl - woman, Clary mentally clarifies since she’s probably older than Clary at least by a little - says.

“Wait, the what?” Clary manages.

“How can I not know who you are?” “Has that line seriously ever worked for you?” Clary snaps back, teetering back and forth between curious and annoyed before settling somewhere in the middle.

“Werewolf? Vamp? Part Fae? You’re pretty enough for it…” the woman muses slowly, giving Clary another once-over. This time her red lips pull up from their previous downturn into a hint of a smirk, as if enjoying some secret Clary isn’t in on.

“Are you on drugs?” Clary asks, eyebrow raised. “Or is that another pick-up line? Are you going to ask if I’m an angel who fell from heaven next?” Clary is a mixture of flustered and confused, which only makes her frustrated enough to bring a hand up to her hip, attempting to mask all of those things with an air of indifference and an eye roll.

Neither is convincing, not to herself or the other woman.

“No, I’d know if you were Nephilim,” the ‘blonde’ dismisses easily. She says the sentence as if it inherently makes total sense when it makes absolutely none, at least not to Clary.

“Izzy! Let’s go, we’re already running late,” a tall, dark-haired guy shouts from near the entrance of the club.

“Duty calls,” the woman - Izzy - sighs. “Gotta run.”

Clary thinks Izzy actually sounds regretful as she sighs and turns away without another word.

Clary watches her go, mouth agape. Once Izzy disappears into the club that should be the end of it… except Clary can’t just let their encounter go. What was all that? Who was she?

Clary should let it go. She should definitely let it go… but her feet carry her through the front doors after the stranger before she even realizes she’s moving. She barely registers Simon and Maureen yelling after her and doesn’t turn around to acknowledge them.

There’s something about that woman. It’s something Clary can’t quite put her finger on but it calls to her in a way she’s never felt before, strong and unrelenting. It isn’t a feeling she can just ignore… so she doesn’t.

Entirely unaware of the fate she’s following, Clary follows her future love into the club.

Chapter 3: Fake Dating

Isabelle knows the sleazebag that Clary’s talking to. He’s a werewolf named Peter with whom she’s had her fair share of encounters - each ranging from mildly unpleasant to entirely repulsive. Isabelle immediately wants him as far away from Clary as possible.

“Why is Clary talking to him?” Izzy asks, her face scrunched up in obvious disgust as she sidles up to Alec. The ring of water around the base of his beer tells her that he’s been nursing it long enough that it’s lukewarm by now - meaning he isn’t here because he wants to drink. A quick glance around the room and she catches sight of Magnus and Luke chatting, smiling a little at the knowledge that Alec is just here to be close to Magnus before refocusing on Clary.

“He came up to her a little while ago. I think she’s just too nice to walk away,” Alec admits.

Izzy watches Clary out of the corner of her eye and has to agree - Clary doesn’t seem particularly thrilled with her situation even though she smiles and laughs and nods in all the right places. Izzy’s about to sigh and leave Clary to it when Peter reaches an arm around Clary, his hand resting too low on Clary’s back for comfort. Isabelle watches Clary tense under the touch and glance around, catching Izzy’s gaze and giving her a look Izzy can only interpret as a silent plea for help.

Izzy is at Clary’s side before she’s conscious of her own decision to move, pulling Clary away from Peter.

“Clary, baby, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Izzy says, voice dripping with flirtation. She wraps her arm around Clary’s waist, pulling her close enough to plant a chaste kiss to the corner of her lips.

Peter gives Izzy a dubious look.

“How about you make yourself scarce again, Isabelle. I don’t remember anyone inviting you,” Peter sneers. “Clary certainly didn’t need you around to say she’d stop by my party later.”

Izzy wonders if maybe she read the situation all wrong, praying to the Angel that she hadn’t overstepped and embarrassed herself.

“Do you have a problem with my girlfriend, Peter?” Clary counters, doubling down on Izzy’s lie. Izzy relaxes. She more than relaxes - she feels a flutter in her chest she hadn’t expected at hearing Clary call her ‘girlfriend’, even if it’s just pretending. “I thought the party was an open invitation, I was going to bring Iz with me. But if you don’t want us there…”

Peter glares at Izzy and Izzy can’t really blame him - especially not when she’s egging the reaction on with a very self-satisfied smirk.

“Guess I’ll see both of you at the party, then,” Peter grumbles as he walks away to pointedly turn his attention elsewhere.

Izzy waits until he’s far enough away before dropping her hand from Clary’s waist, trying not to think too hard about the immediate loss she feels at the lack of touch.

“Sorry if the kiss was too much,” Izzy apologizes.

“It was perfect,” Clary says quickly, then flushes. “I mean, for the cover and all,” Clary adds quickly. Izzy wonders if she’s reading too much into it but Clary almost seems flustered. “Thanks for saving me.”

“Any time, Fray,” Izzy says. To anyone listening it might sound casual, but if Clary looks into Izzy’s expression she’ll know it’s a sincere promise.

“Well… we do have a party to go to later,” Clary points out.

Izzy considers her options. Realistically she knows she should say no and end this charade here and now before things get out of hand. They could easily both stay away from the party… but the chance to ruin Peter’s life a little more on top of getting to shamelessly flirt with Clary for an entire night is too tempting to pass up.

“I suppose we do,” Izzy agrees. If her ‘pretending’ to like Clary is a bit more real than she lets on, well, no one needs to know. Certainly not Clary, who beams and grabs Izzy’s hand to hold as they walk past Peter and out of the bar.

Chapter 4: Kid Fic

“We can’t just leave him here,” Clary says, looking down at the warlock child. He can’t be more than a year old, though it’s difficult to tell with his facial features distorted by a warlock mark of red-brown fox fur that exists in intermittent patches along his skin.

“I wish our target shared that sentiment,” Izzy mutters, worrying her lower lip.

“I can’t believe he left a baby behind when he fled,” Clary agrees. “Who sacrifices a kid to save their own… butt?”

Izzy quirks an eyebrow at Clary’s wording.

“What? I’m not about to swear in front of a kid,” Clary points out as if it should be obvious. Maybe it should - Izzy hasn’t dealt with many children outside of her little brother to know.

Izzy looks down at her phone and sighs as yet another call goes to voicemail. “Magnus still isn’t answering.”

“We’ll just have to take care of him until Magnus is free,” Clary says, already scooping the young warlock up into her arms.

Izzy hesitates. “Maybe we should wait.”

“We can’t wait here, what if he comes back and brings backup?” Clary asks, looking around at their exposed position to prove her point.

“You’re right. You take the kid, and I’ll stay here in case our target comes back.”

Realistically, Izzy knows this shouldn’t be a big deal… but the idea of being responsible for a baby is more terrifying than facing down any rogue warlock by herself.

“I’m not leaving you here alone, Iz. Come on, you can keep trying Magnus while we walk back.”

Izzy nods, making one last attempt to call Magnus before grudgingly leaving with Clary and the warlock boy.

Clary pays more attention to the little boy than Izzy for the first half of their walk back, bouncing him in her arms and speaking to him in a higher pitch than her normal speaking voice, not that he understands anything she’s saying anyway.

“I wonder when he ate last… here, you take him while I run into the store and get some food,” Clary says, holding the child out for Izzy to grab without waiting for a reply. Izzy hesitates, however, nearly dropping him when Clary starts to let go assuming Izzy would just take him.

The child immediately begins to cry at being jolted in Izzy’s arms.

“Shhhhh, shhh, it’s okay,” Izzy whispers to the baby, failing to keep the panic from her tone. She remembers reading something about children being able to tell what you’re feeling around them and if that’s the case she knows she isn’t doing herself any favors - she’s terrified. “Please stop crying,” Izzy pleads.

He doesn’t. In a desperate attempt to do anything to make him smile Izzy makes a funny face, poofing out her cheeks and sticking her tongue out. She must look ridiculous but the baby stops crying long enough to look at her in confusion. She’ll take it - anything is better than the crying, and the momentary calm comes just in time for Clary to return from the store.

“Here, I got some little packets of that mushy food since I don’t know what he can eat,” Clary explains, grabbing a food packet from the bag and handing it to Izzy. “Apple seemed safe enough.”

Izzy swallows thickly when she realizes that puts her in charge of feeding duty. She doesn’t want to admit that she’s terrified of doing something wrong, that she has no real experience with babies… that she doesn’t even remember a childhood before training. She does her best to push those thoughts from her mind and focuses on the task at hand.

The baby must be really hungry because he takes the offered food pouch eagerly the moment Izzy places it to his lips.

Clary walks ahead of Izzy chatting casually, entirely unaware of Izzy’s internal crisis over being in charge of a child. This continues once they’re back at the Institute, finally able to get in touch with Alec and Magnus only to be told she should ‘keep the kid entertained’ until they get back.

“I don’t suppose your parents kept any of your baby things here, did they?” Clary asks hopefully.

“What baby things?” Izzy mutters lightly, the words accompanied by a huff of breath.

“You know… toys… books… dolls?” Clary clarifies, not catching the sarcasm of Izzy’s reply.

Isabelle hesitates. She knows just how messed up her childhood will seem compared to the sort of childhood that Clary is obviously used to but she doesn’t want to lie to her girlfriend, not about this.

“I didn’t really have any of that,” Izzy says finally. “We were raised to be soldiers. There wasn’t a lot of time for dolls, not if you wanted to be any good by the time the Academy rolled around.”

“Oh,” Clary says, frowning slightly.

This is it, Izzy realizes. This is the moment Clary rethinks the idea of raising a family as a Shadowhunter, of raising a family with Izzy one day, and Izzy can’t say she blames her. It’s hardly an ideal upbringing, not when you consider the possible alternatives.

“Well, we’re certainly not going to raise our kids like that,” Clary says finally.

“Our…” Izzy trails off in surprise.

Clary immediately misinterprets Izzy’s shock as disagreement. “We haven’t really talked about kids, have we? I guess I always just assumed you’d want a family, with the importance of all that Shadowhunter family legacy stuff…”

“No, no, it isn’t that,” Izzy’s quick to cut Clary off before she gets the wrong impression. “I do want a family… especially if it’s with you.” Izzy allows a small smile to cross her lips, momentarily forgetting her nerves over having this conversation with Clary. They immediately return with her next admission. “I’m just afraid I won’t be very good at it.”

To Isabelle’s surprise, Clary smiles in response to her confession, soft and endearing. “I’m sure you’ll be great at it. Anyway, that’s like, a long way away. Right now we just have to handle a kid for like, another hour. I think even you can manage that much.”

Izzy hopes that Clary’s faith in her isn’t entirely misplaced and does her best not to overthink it.

Izzy holds back at first, letting Clary take the lead while they spend the next hour and a half playing little games of peekabo, or rolling one of those little foam stress balls Clary had in her room back and forth on the floor. They even spend some time finger painting with some of Clary’s art supplies. By the time Alec finally gets back to relieve them of babysitting duty Izzy’s thrown herself fully into playtime, to the point that Clary left the room for a solid 20 minutes and Izzy barely noticed.

Much to her surprise, when Izzy holds the warlock baby out for Alec to take the child whines and reaches back for Izzy. It’s bittersweet in the best possible way to see how attached he managed to grow to her in the short time they spent together.

“See? You’re a natural,” Clary says, reaching out a hand to pull Izzy up from where she sits on the floor. “You’re going to be a great parent someday.”

“We both are,” Izzy agrees. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“And you’ll never have to,” Clary reminds her, pulling her in for a hug before placing a kiss on her cheek, then the corner of her lips before Izzy pulls back from the hug enough for a proper kiss.

After today Izzy can see a future with Clary, a family with Clary, clearer than she ever imagined before. For the first time, it’s a thought that doesn’t bring any fear or anxiety with it - only joyful anticipation of what the coming years will bring.

Chapter 5: Pining

“Just tell her,” Alec says, coming up behind Izzy where she stands in the doorway of the training room watching Clary spar with Jace.

“Tell her what?” Izzy plays dumb even though they both know exactly what Alec is referring to. The ‘what’ in question is Isabelle’s huge crush on Clary, one she thinks she’s much better at hiding than she actually is, apparently.

“I won’t say anything because I’m not a meddling sibling, unlike some people I know,” Alec starts with very pointed wording, which Izzy thinks is pretty unfair considering the fact that her own meddling got Alec a boyfriend-turned-fiance-turned-husband. “But you should say something.”

“Maybe,” Izzy says dismissively.

“She’d be a fool to turn you down,” are Alec’s parting words before he leaves her alone again. Thankfully for Isabelle, Alec has far more important things to do than harass her about her love life… or current lack thereof.

Isabelle watches wistfully as Clary ducks and jumps, wielding her dual kindjals with precision and deadly force. Seeing Clary with a weapon is already more attractive than it has any right to be, but to see her use those weapons with increasing skill, watching the focused furrow of her brow with every jab and the way her muscles tense and flex with every swipe?

It’s just another thing that makes Izzy fall a little more in love with Clary Fray. Falling in love with Clary seems to be what comes easiest to Isabelle right now, her feelings growing every time she watches Clary paint, or listens to Clary hum to herself while she sketches, or when Clary nearly runs out of breath when she rambles excitedly about some mundane thing Izzy’s barely able to follow.

How can everything one person does be so infuriatingly endearing?!

Tell her. Tell Clary she likes her… maybe even loves her? Tell Clary how much easier it is for Izzy to laugh and smile when she’s around, or how much color she’s brought to Izzy’s black-and-white world?

“Hey Iz,” Clary greets her, breath coming in heavy pants after the exertion of her practice. “What’s up?”

Tell her. Like it could be that easy.

Maybe she should. Maybe it could be.

“I…” Izzy hesitates. “I just came to see if you wanted to grab lunch?”

Tell her.

Maybe someday.

---

“You should tell her,” Jace says, the suggestion coming right before he lands a hit with his staff against Clary’s shoulder.

“Quit distracting me,” Clary huffs. “That’s cheating.”

“I don’t think I’m the one distracting you,” Jace points out, nodding over to where Isabelle watches them train from the doorway. Clary very purposefully locks her eyes on Jaces and doesn’t follow his nod. “If your eyes were on me half as much as they’re on Izzy we’d probably be more evenly matched.”

Clary sighs. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Go talk to her,” Jace prods.

“We talk all the time,” Clary deflects. It isn’t a lie, she thinks defensively. They do talk all the time… and yet it’s never enough, either. Clary always wants to spend more time with Izzy - they could spend the entire day together and it wouldn’t be long enough. She doesn’t even care what they do together, because just being around Izzy is enough. Hell, Clary would stand in silence beside Isabelle for hours if it meant sharing that silence with the girl she likes. The girl she quite possibly loves.

When did she become this lost in her feelings for Izzy? Shit.

“You know what I mean, Fray,” Jace says, lunging forward and landing another blow, this time to Clary’s stomach. There’s no use pretending she isn’t completely distracted now, forcing her focus from Izzy - where it drifted again without her even noticing - back to Jace.

“Maybe if you quit making me look bad in front of her…” Clary mutters, swiping down only to have her blow parried by Jace’s staff.

“Nice try, but I’m not going to go easy on you just because you have a crush. How about you step up your game instead?”

Clary does. It takes more concentration and self-control than she cares to admit, but Clary manages to keep her eyes off of Izzy and on Jace long enough to score a few hits of her own.

At the end of her training session, Clary wanders over to where Izzy still stands.

“Hey, Iz, what’s up?”

“I…”

Clary mentally prays for Izzy to confess the words she wants to hear so badly - that she’s here to watch Clary because she’s as gone for Clary as Clary is for her.

“I just came to see if you wanted to grab lunch?” Izzy asks, and Clary tries to ignore the disappointment she feels. The feeling is only momentary because it might not be a confession of love but Isabelle still wants to spend more time with her, and that isn’t nothing. It’s what she wants, even if it isn’t the way she wants it.

It’s enough for now.

Maybe one day Clary will make a confession of her own… just not today.

“Sure,” Clary agrees easily. “Let’s go.”

Maybe someday.

Chapter 6: Meet Cute

Isabelle never bought into the idea of anything as coincidental as being in the right place at the right time… that is until she meets Clary Fray.

Izzy’s entire life is built around the concept of training to be prepared for any and every scenario. She walks into a room and immediately scans possible exits, eyeing the people within a certain radius for potential threats or anything suspicious. She does the same while she’s out and about the city whether she’s on duty or not, which may be the only reason Clary isn’t lost to the Fae realm forever.

After numerous dealings with the Seelies and other Fair Folk, Izzy would be the first to say she’s an expert on them - at least more so than any other Shadowhunters her age. Certainly enough to spot a mundane being lured towards one of the entrances to the Faerie Realm that Izzy knows is nearby.

The girl is roughly Isabelle’s age, a bit younger if she has to hazard a guess, with a shock of red hair falling loosely around her face. It’s the hair that first catches Izzy’s gaze, the color standing out in stark contrast to the greens and browns of the woods just off the paved pathway of the park. Once Izzy activates a rune or two she can see through the weak glamour the Fae creature has over itself as it speaks in enticing, dulcet tones about magic and fairies and a land so beautiful it can hardly be believed.

Not a lie - the Fair Folk cannot lie - though Izzy thinks leaving out the bit about being trapped there forever once the girl eats or drinks anything, or so much as accidentally treads on an ant is a bit unfair.

“As much fun as all that sounds,” Izzy states loudly, making her presence known, standing behind them with a hand on the hilt of her seraph blade. “I’m going to have to request you don’t go kidnapping any mundanes today.”

“She isn’t,” the Fae argues. “She has the sight!”

Izzy shakes her head.

“That doesn’t make the kidnapping part any better. Consider yourself lucky I’m letting you go at all and leave the girl.” When the Fae hesitates Izzy pulls her blade out fully and activates it. “That wasn’t a request. Go. Now.”

The redhead looks like she has half a mind to follow after the faerie when he flees but she doesn’t in the end.

“I wasn’t being kidnapped,” she huffs, bringing her hands up to rest on her hips. “I wanted to go. I wanted to see-”

“You would’ve seen plenty when they never allowed you to leave again,” Izzy says. “Trust me. There are better ways to see the Faerie Realms.”

“Can you show me?” the redhead asks, eyes lighting back up with eagerness now that she knows her chance of seeing the magical realm isn’t lost entirely.

Izzy doesn’t answer the question - there are things she needs to know first. “He said you had the Sight?”

“I can see people like him sometimes. Glimpses of things no one around me can see. I used to think I was crazy,” the girl admits. “But you saw him, too!”

“You aren’t crazy,” Izzy promises. “What’s your name?”

“Clary,” the redhead supplies. When Isabelle waits in expectant silence Clary adds a last name. “Clary Fray.”

Izzy runs the name through her head, trying to recall anyone with the surname and coming up short.

“I’m Isabelle. What do you say we get you somewhere a bit safer for now. I could walk you home, then I’ll know where to find you for that trip to the Seelie Realm one day. Deal?”

Clary smiles and nods her head with such enthusiasm that Izzy laughs a little. That only serves to make Clary smile wider.

“Alright, Isabelle. And thanks, I guess. If he really was trying to kidnap me-”

“He absolutely was. You have to be careful - not everything magical is sweet and innocent.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t trust you, then,” Clary points out.

It’s a fair point. Izzy did just show up out of nowhere and pull a weapon in front of Clary, so no, Clary has no reason to trust her.

“Do you?” Izzy asks. “Trust me?”

“I do,” Clary admits at length. “I don’t know why, but… I do.”

Izzy smiles back. “Good. Let’s get you home, then.”

Izzy doesn’t plan on seeing Clary again, but she can’t help the pull she feels towards the girl - a pull strong enough to convince her enough to swing by Clary’s apartment once, twice, and then a third time. Isabelle stands outside but never approaches no matter how badly she wants to.

The third time Izzy almost knocks on the door but stops short. She knows shouldn’t… Sight or not, Izzy can’t go dragging this girl into the Shadow World despite the connection she feels.

Except, less than 24 hours after Isabelle promises herself she’ll leave Clary alone, Clary shows up on the doorstep of the Institute.

“Clary,” Izzy greets, swinging the door open wide.

“Isabelle,” Clary realizes, surprised.

Right place, right time. Izzy never believed in coincidences until Clary.

Until now.

Who is Isabelle to deny fate if it’s going to keep putting Clary in her path?

Some things, Izzy’s starting to realize, are simply meant to be.

[hawks-supremacy]

Ghostly Roommate

After moving into a small home you begin to notice some weird things that have been happening.

Warnings: Swearing, that’s about it. There’s an alcoholic beverage at the end.

Word Count: 4k

A/N: This was something I wrote for Halloween but only had half of it done when Halloween got here lol. Let me know if you want a part 2. I think the beginning is a little rough? But after that it gets better I hope.

Living alone at the age of 28 wasn’t something you imagined yourself doing when you graduated from school. You and your roommate from college always talked about moving in together after school, but things change. In this case she got a boyfriend and wanted to move in with him instead. So here you were moving into a small rented home with your cat instead of her. The house wasn’t super small but it wasn’t big either. You didn’t need much, just a place to eat and sleep and lounge about on your days off. You got the house for cheaper than what you would’ve expected. It's not falling apart or in a super terrible place either, but you weren’t going to ask questions. As the months went on you learned that maybe sometimes you should ask questions.

The first month came and went with no issues that concerned you. Sure you had to call your landlord twice because your heating system was broken. It’d be one temperature in one room and in the next it’d be colder. It wasn’t a huge difference but it was enough for it to bug you. You also noticed a few things out of place when you’d get back from work, but you brushed that off as your cat messing with things while she was alone in the house. 

The second month was a little weirder to you, but you brushed it off as the stress of living in a new area and starting a new job. There were times where you’d leave your room at three am and see something move out of the corner of your eye. You had originally brushed it off as your cat moving about at night, but one night you realized that she had been in your room the whole time. You decided to push it to the back of your mind and mark it off as you being paranoid. 

You had a day off and you decided to have your old roommate, Nemuri, over for a small hangout so you could catch up. It was an hour before she was supposed to come over and you were cleaning up your home when you came across a cat toy you were 80% sure you put away. You glanced over at your assumed culprit and back at the toy before speaking, “Seriously Saturn what am I going to do with you. Every time I put away a toy it seems like you drag it out again.” You sighed and placed the toy over with the rest before finishing the little cleaning you had to do.

You were finishing up cooking when you had heard the knock on the door as it opened. “Knock knock I’m coming in darling.” You had heard Nemuri let herself in and chuckled softly to yourself before taking everything off the stove. “Oh there you are. For a second I thought I walked into an empty home.” Nemuri stated as she gracefully strided into the kitchen.

“How was the commute over here? It wasn’t too long was it? I said we could meet somewhere, you didn’t have to come all the way here.” You moved around the kitchen getting out bowls and cups for you two, “What do you want to drink? I have tea or I have some coffee from this morning, it’s still warm.”  You heard her say that tea was fine before wandering around the front area of your home.

“This is a cute little home you have here Y/n. However, it is a little chilly. You should get your heating checked out, I’m nipping out over here.” You rolled your eyes at the fact that she still has no filter when it comes to more crude topics. You thought for sure she’d mellow out, but it’s not Nemuri if she wasn’t the definition of “TMI”. 

As you set everything on the table you called out your response, “I have, twice. They have no idea what’s wrong with it. It’s not like it’s terrible, I just put on a sweater and call it good. Anyway, the food is ready so come eat. I made dumplings because I remember you saying you were going to miss them when we graduated.” 

As you both ate you had some light conversation about where you were working and how the move for both of you went. Finishing up the meal and setting the dishes in the sink to wash later you turned to Nemuri, “So how’s your little boytoy?” You asked as you walked over to the couch where she had decided to make herself comfortable and find something to watch for background noise.

She laughed as she gave you her response, “He’s fine I’m sure, but we broke up a little while ago.” Before you could ask what happened she had let out a deep sigh, “Men these days are so vanilla. You wanna spice things up a little bit and all you get back in response is “That’s not going to fit” or  “what the hell are you doing with that” I swear it’s so hard to find a man who wants to experiment, yanno?” 

Upon hearing her reasoning you started choking on the drink you started taking before she talked. After calming down from your sudden near death experience you looked at her with both your eyebrows raised, “Uhm, no I can’t say that I do know. Honestly Nemuri sometimes I wonder if you were just born without a filter or if you got to a certain age and it broke.” 

She replied with the fact that she’s never had one as she laughed at your reaction, “We should get you a man...or woman...You know I just realized I never asked about that. So like, Girl in Red? Sweater Weather? Or?” You just gave her a look that said you were confused before she sighed, “I’m asking if you’re gay.” 

You made a face of realization before you felt your face get a tinge warmer. “I’ve never really been in more than one relationship but I do know that I like both. Actually I don’t think it matters, yanno? If I like someone, I like someone. I don’t care what they are.” She squealed excitedly before jumping straight into a plan of going out on a weekend and finding someone for you before you cut her off, “Nemuri! I’m not really looking for a relationship right now. Between work, and still trying to figure things out I don’t really want to throw a relationship into the mix.” She nodded in understanding before moving the topic to something else. Even though she had to filter you were glad she respected your boundaries and didn’t push anything.

You spent the next hour or so catching up before she said she had to leave for some appointment. You walked her to the door and watched as she put on what looked like six inches of death in shoe form and left. You walked into the kitchen to clean everything up and noticed that the dumplings you had left on the hot plate were gone and the hot plate turned off. You laughed and told yourself you’re just being silly and you probably put them in the fridge for later. You quickly did the dishes and put everything away before going to grab a drink from the fridge. As you glanced in there you had noticed that the dumplings weren’t in the fridge like you thought and they had just disappeared. You quickly glanced around the kitchen to make sure you weren’t crazy. You realized they weren’t there and quickly made your way around the house. You decided before you checked all the rooms in your house that if there was indeed someone in your house you were fucked. You went to the living room and found a weapon, not that you had any that were useful. You grabbed an exacto knife from your various supplies and decided it was better than nothing.

Heading over to your bedroom first you slowly pushed open the door before walking in and noticing that no one was there. You checked all of the rooms, leaving only one room you hadn’t quite decided what you were doing with last. As you were checking the rooms you told yourself that this was ridiculous and that no one was in the rooms and I was probably Saturn that ate them. That still doesn’t explain how the hot plate was off, also you haven’t seen Saturn in a while. You lowered your weapon before pushing open the last door. You dropped the exacto knife as you saw what looked to be a homeless man playing with your cat. He looked at you and the exacto knife you dropped and then your cat and back to you. Without saying anything he disappeared. 

After seeing that you screamed and ran out of the room before running back in and snatching Saturn off the ground and running to your room to pack your shit and get the hell out of town. “Oh hell to the motherfucking no! I am not going to be in a horror movie, not today Satan. I prefer to watch them, not live them! Saturn, aren’t you supposed to see this shit! Why didn’t you say anything?! Fucking traitors, just gonna let me get killed by the ghost. You’d like that wouldn’t you you sick fuck.” During your ramble and rant you hadn’t noticed the figure standing in the doorway with his arms crossed watching you. 

In the middle of you scolding your cat you heard a “Are you done yet?” You dropped the pair of sweatpants you were about to pack and let out a high pitched scream. Turning around you looked at the ghostly man and whispered a pathetic “please don’t kill me”. He shook his head in response, “If I were going to kill you, I would’ve done it already. Why would I wait months to kill you?” You paused and narrowed your eyes at the man. You had no clue why he would wait months to kill you, that still doesn’t make this situation any better. You were still scared and now a little creeped out that this dead (somewhat handsome) man had been living in the house and watching you. 

“Okay well if you aren’t going to kill me, what do you want?”  He gave a shrug in response before uncrossing his arms and walking into the room to sit on your bed with your cat. You instinctively took a few steps back when he started walking into the room. “So have you been moving all my stuff around and getting things out.” He nodded in response. You both stayed quiet for a few moments before you slowly started to unpack the suitcase you had thrown on your bed.

After unpacking everything you looked at the man for a few moments. You feel a little bad about the homeless comment, but upon looking at him you can’t really blame yourself. He looks a little gruff. Long hair and some stubble, he also had terrible bags. You coughed a bit before speaking, not quite sure how to start this conversation, “Do you want some tea? Wait, can you even drink things? No that’s a dumb question you clearly can, I’m assuming you ate the dumplings from earlier. I still think we should talk about things whether you want to drink tea or not. I’m having tea, specifically a calming tea because I feel like I just ran a goddamn mile and I’m having a heart attack.” As you talked you walked to the kitchen and put on a kettle.

“I’ll have a cup of tea. Yes I can eat and drink, I don’t need to, but sometimes I liked to just to remember what things tasted like.” You gave a sad smile at that thought and made you both cups of tea before sitting down at the couch. You noticed the exacto knife on the counter and felt your cheeks get warm, what were you gonna do with that? “What questions do you have?”

You thought about it for a moment, “Uh is there anything you don’t want to tell me?” he shrugged in response so you figured that meant he didn’t care. “Well to start off with, what’s your name?” 

“Aizawa Shota.” You nodded, glad you had a name for him and weren’t just calling him ghost. You would’ve felt awkward if he didn’t remember or something and you had to call him ghost. “How did you die? When? You don’t have to answer if it’s like a sensitive topic or something.” You quickly tacked on the last part just in case he got upset and disappeared again, you felt more comfortable being able to see him and knowing where he was.

“I don’t remember how, as far as how long, it’s probably been a few years. They all start to meld together after a while.” Well that’s not depressing, you thought as you took a drink of your tea and thought of another question. “So what was your plan of attack with the exacto knife?” He decided to ask a question while you thought of another. You felt your face get redder than before and you stuttered out a response before he chuckled and told you he was kidding. 

You talked and asked questions back and forth for a few hours before you thought you had a pretty good understanding of your new roommate. He was a teacher before he died and was stuck at the age 30. He likes cats, although you could have guessed that from your first interaction, he also likes sleep but doesn’t need to as a ghost. He could choose when and when not to appear visible. You also learned that he can’t leave the house, so he’s been stuck here for a while. 

As it got later in the evening you let out a yawn and he asked if you wanted to go to bed. You had nodded and thought of something, “Where have you been sleeping?” He silently pointed at the couch as he got up and grabbed the cups from the coffee table. You frowned and gave the couch a few experimental bounces, “Is it comfortable?” You got up and called into the kitchen. You jumped as he walked through the wall towards you, “Jesus I’m never going to get used to that, I can tell you that right now.” 

He silently laughed before responding, “It’s comfortable enough, why? Going to offer your bed?” He quirked an eyebrow at you as you began to stutter for the millionth time that day. “I’m just messing with you, it’s fine you don’t need to worry.”

You frowned once again, “I can set up a ‘spare room’ and that can be your room. I won’t be having guests over often but on the off chance someone does you’ll have to go back to the couch for a night or two.” 

“Yeah you can do that if you want, but you don’t have to buy things for me to sleep on, I’m fine with the couch, I slept on a floor before you got here.” You never thought about it like that, but when you think about it yeah he had nothing to do before you moved here. If you didn’t feel bad before you do now. You let out a fine and went to your room to get ready for bed.

It had been nearly a year since moving into your new home and almost ten months since you found out about your new ghostly roommate. Everything had been pretty interesting. True to your word you still hadn’t got used to him walking through the walls to get to his destinations. You think one of these times it’s going to give you a heart attack and send you into the afterlife with him. You started making extra helpings during your meals, deciding that if he doesn’t eat them you can take them to work with you. You also bought a bed and nightstand for the spare room. You would have left it as just the bed but if someone like Nemuri did stay the night you figured it’d be weird if there was just a bed and nothing else. 

You two had gotten pretty close over the months you’ve lived together, you talked everyday and learned more about each other. You would consider him one of your three friends. You didn’t have many people you considered friends, so yeah he’s one of them. You had hoped that he considered you a friend as well. Nemuri had come over a few times where you forgot to tell him and he almost walked into the room with her. Not that you think she would care, but you definitely thought she would lose her shit if the way she found out was him walking through the wall. You just haven’t found out how to tell her. I mean how do you bring that up in conversation, “Hey I have a roommate, but surprise! He’s dead!” that didn’t seem like it’d get you thrown in the loony bin at all. You talked about him pretending to be alive, it’s not like you can tell he’s not alive anyway. For now you just haven’t told her, it hasn’t caused problems yet.

Tonight Nemuri had finally convinced you to let her set you up with someone. You didn’t necessarily want to but she had been bugging you about this for a while so you figured if you let her do it this once she’d finally leave you alone about it. You had been getting ready when you realized you weren’t sure what you were doing. You didn’t know if she meant going to a bar and her trying to find someone there or if she had already found someone. You started to look for your phone in your room to text her when you realized it was in the living room. You sighed and walked over to the coffee table when Aizawa had looked over and saw you were dressed up.

He gave you a once over and raised his eyebrows, “Where are you going tonight? You never go out.” You laughed at the question and the comment.

You sent Nemuri a text asking what the hell was going on because all she told you prior was “look hot”. After sending the text you looked at Aizawa, “Nemuri is setting me up tonight, but I don’t know if she means on a date or finding some random guy in a club.” Aizawa paused for a moment before letting out an oh and turning to the tv. You looked at him with a confused look on your face before walking back to your room to finish getting ready. 

Nemuri had texted you back saying you were going to a club to find someone and you rolled your eyes. You had been hoping for the other option, she also sent you a text stating that she had been here. You went to leave and say goodbye to Aizawa but saw that the tv had been shut off and he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. You shrugged and left the house, you got into Nemuri’s car and buckled your seatbelt when you sat down. You were all for “living on the edge” as she called it, but when it comes to Nemuri and driving you weren’t taking chances. She was a driver from hell.

“What club are we going to? Also what do you hope to accomplish tonight? I’m not a one night stand kind of girl, I’ve been in one relationship that ended in a disaster.” She told you that you guys were just going to look and you didn’t have to have a one night stand, but at least talk to a few people. The rest of the way to the club was just you two listening to the playlist that she had decided for the night. Upon arriving she parked the car and walked straight up to the bouncer. You were already wary of tonight because she had just cut in front a lot of people. You didn’t know much about the clubbing scene but you guessed that was a big no no. She had told the bouncer her name and was immediately let in. You quickly followed her in careful not to make eye contact with the people who were in line.

“I know the dj that works in this club so I get let in for free.” You nodded in understanding and continued to follow her to the bar. You both ordered your drinks, while you waited for them to get done Nemuri started scoping out the room and looking for god knows what. You had no clue what her standards for men were anymore, or what she thought your standards for men would be. You thanked the bartender as he set your drinks down in front of you. As she continued to look around you started at your drink taking a hesitant sip, you weren’t big on alcohol. 

Nemuri tapped your shoulder and you turned around, drink in hand, as she pointed in a direction. You tried following her finger but failed miserably, it was so packed in here. You gave her a questioning look before she decided on describing them instead, “That blonde guy in the black and gold tank top. He kinda looks like he’s wearing eyeliner.” You found who she was talking about and squinted trying to see him better from here. You didn’t like this clubbing idea so far. 

Upon looking at him you gave her your answer, “No.” she let out a ‘why, he’s cute’ to which you responded with, “Yeah and looks about ten years younger than us. Nemuri, all of the people in here look way too young for me. You might be into the younger generation but I’m not. Thank you and all, but I’m just going to go home.”

“Y/n it’s only been like fifteen minutes come one.” She whined as you paid for your drink and thanked the bartender.

“Nemuri I shouldn’t have even come out tonight. The lights are hurting my eyes, the sound is giving me a headache, my claustrophobia is going to kick in, and I can already tell that none of these people aren’t my type, because my type wouldn’t be at a club. I’m sorry but I’m going home.” After saying that you walked outside and called a cab to take you home.

Twenty minutes late you arrived home and sighed as you kicked off your shoes. You went to take off your make-up but left your clothes on as you decided to make yourself a snack. You kneeled down to pet Saturn as she joined you in the kitchen while your food was heating up. Jumping in place as you saw Aizawa come out from the wall. You let out a small hey as you stood up and took your food out of the microwave and began to eat.

He leaned against the counter with a glass of water in hand, “Have fun? Meet anyone you liked?”

You laughed in response, “Uhm no, I hate clubs and everyone there was way too young. I don’t think she realizes we have two completely different tastes. Besides, my type wouldn’t be at a club anyway.”

He nodded in understanding, setting his glass in the sink and turning to you again, “What is your type?”

You finished eating as you thought about it. You’ve never really thought about it before, you definitely know they wouldn’t be at a club though. “I’m not sure to be honest. I’m going to bed though. G’night Aizawa.” You gave him a brief hug before going to your room.

After you got ready for bed you thought about what your type would be some more. You stared at the ceiling as you thought, they probably wouldn’t be loud. They would probably be quiet, but not like a pushover quiet. They’d have to like cats, if they don’t it’s not gonna work out. Probably a homebody who you can nap with. But also someone you can joke around with. That’s when it hit you. Fuck.

Aizawa is your type.

[nobody-wants-ice-cream]

Everything Wrong With The Umbrella Academy. Episode 7, The Day That Was.

We Only See Each Other at Weddings and Funerals

Run Boy Run

Extra Ordinary

Man on the Moon

Number Five

The Day That Wasn’t

Disclaimer: This is all in good fun! I wanted to do a really nitpicky re-watch of the series and found some really cool and interesting things I didn’t notice before. This is meant to have a Cinema Sins-esque tone. However, I did take off a lot more sins than Cinema Sins would have because I do genuinely like the series and the people that made it possible. So all of the good things got one sin off and all the bad things got one sin added. This is a really long post, so grab some popcorn. If there’s anything that I missed, feel free to add it!

I would also like to add that normally you wouldn’t watch a show this way. I am purposefully looking for mistakes, easter eggs, and other things that we’re not supposed to notice. I am watching not with the goal of entertainment, but for analysis. So most of the things that I sin, I am seeing for the first time.

Also, no I can’t do better. I am in no way qualified to give this level of criticism about anything.

[Look out for the fic challenge at the end! I’m tagging @tehmoonofficial @seven-misfits @princenewton @tua-koffee and anyone else who wants to try it. Tag other people if you would like!]

The Day That Was

The use of “One is the Loneliest Number” by Three Dog Night implies that this is Luther’s birth. I know that that isn’t what they’re trying to convey so this is a very weird song choice. It would be way too on the nose if it was Luther, but it would fit so well. In fact, before Pogo said that it was the culmination of a normal pregnancy, I thought it was Luther when I was first watchin it.Point is, scoring is important. +1

No one is attending to this mother which is why she dies. Seriously, if just one person in that room was with Harold’s mother then any problems would have been noticed far earlier. I know this show likes to kill off women to further the plot, but this one happens to be excessively stupid. +2

There’s a woman in scrubs who doesn’t appear to be sterile in the room. Even Harold’s father is sterile. For those who don’t know, I’m talking about a lack of germs. +1

Harold playing with the Umbrella Academy action figures is adorable and makes sense. However, why the hell would his abusive father buy these for him? Something doesn’t add up. Where did he get these from? Did he steal them? In that case, stealing is bad. Sin still stands. +1

Dr. Terminal better appear in season 2. -1

Ben’s action figure includes the horror. This makes sense, but then how did Ben pose for this? Did he just sort of stand like that and let the sculptor take liberties with what the horror looked like? How were these modeled and designed? +1

“Put those stupid dolls away and go get me a beer” obvious abusive father is obvious. +7

Also, abusive fathers. +7

I didn’t notice that Harold’s house is the same as Leonard’s house when I first watched it because of the change in angle and lighting. This is clever. -1

Has anyone taken a good look at the Klaus action figure? That thing looks ridiculous! +1

Harold stops to look at a comic now and not later when his Dad isn’t demanding a beer. Then again, I am questioning the logic skills of a thirteen-year-old. So this sin is once again for the abusive dick for for not letting Harold be a child. +1

Seriously, where did Harold get all this stuff? Merch is expensive. And so are suit jackets. And tape. And a whole bunch of his supplies. +1

Seance seems pretty popular. Good. I love Klaus. But there is no indication that he did anything during missions, so why do these people love him? Show me his charisma or something? Give young Klaus a scene that shows why the people love him. +1

Are these barriers only there after missions? And if this is normal enough that there are barriers, then why aren’t there more people hounding the academy when Five runs away for example? How famous are these kids? +1

Harold you poor child. He even packed a bag and everything. Reggie is not better than your abusive father. Sin for Harold’s father and for Reggie. +2

No one stops Harold from jumping over the barrier. Not even the other fans saying something like “dude don’t do that”. Nothing. Who is enforcing these barriers? +1

Luther walked out of the car first and now he’s behind Allison. Since when does Luther have Five’s power?+1

Allison looks really uncomfortable. How many grabby fans has this young girl had to deal with? +1

Eden Cupid plays this really well. -1

How many grabby fans has Eden Cupid had to deal with?? +1

Reggie orders Harold behind the barricades. So is it Reggie enforcing it? Or what? +1

If it’s the academy enforcing it through Reggies orders then why didn’t Diego, Klaus, or Ben stop Harold? Or does this not matter because Luther was in front of them? This is confusing. Where is everybody? +1

Reggie is a dick. “You have no power”. Is that really the best way to deal with the situation? A better man may have said something like “You may not have powers but that doesn’t mean you aren't special. Run along now.” But then again, this is the same dick that drugged his daughter because he couldn’t control her powers so yeah. Fuck you, Reggie. +3

In the wide shot, Harold’s suitcase disappeared and some policemen magically appeared out of thin air. +1

Why are all these people laughing at Harold? After what Reggie just said there should be outrage? What the hell, people? +1

Some of these people include grown ass adults. +1

Reggie manhandles Harold and no one questions this. +1

Second hand embarrassment and shame. I really feel for this kid. -1

Where are the little umbrella mounts that the action figures are supposed to be standing on in this establishing shot of Harold’s collection? We see them on the collection in the academy. Is this supposed to imply that Harold stole them? I am confused. +1

We can see a piece of paper that has the words Klaus and Harold written on it in different colored crayon. Set designers, you win this one. -1

Why are the action figures going by their names instead of their hero names? It’s been established based on the posters the people had behind the barricades that “The Seance” and “Spaceboy” exist. So why the real names? If it’s because Harold is desperate for friends then the sin also applies. +1

In a close shot we can see that Harold must have taken those platforms off and glued them to this construction paper based on a weird deformity on Five’s foot. Sin still stands because Harold ruined those. In fact, I’ll add another sin, because this doesn’t explain how he separated them. If it was an exacto knife then sin for letting a child handle that. +1

Harold makes collages of the academy kids faces. Cute and a good set design choice. -1

You can see the moment when Harold decides to kill his father. That is some great acting, Jesse Noah Gruman. -1

You know, for all we rag on Harold for killing his abusive father, there are a surprising amount of fics in which the Hargreeves siblings kill their abusive father. Either we’re cool with killing abusive fathers or we aren’t, fandom. +1

Speaking of, we often use “cool motive, still murder” to describe this scene. But no one has a problem with the amount of people Five killed. +1

Harold got twelve years in jail even though there were signs of abuse. He had a bruise on his face! Any lawyer should have been able to get Harold out of jail. Even a public defender can’t deny this evidence. Harold should have pled guilty and he would have gotten a lighter, if no sentence at all. [I am not a lawyer, do not take this as legal advice. This is based on various crime shows and some law youtube channels. Also, don’t kill people.] +1

Why was Harold following Klaus? Popular theories include wanting to kill him or use him the way he uses Vanya. I am sinning this because it remains unclear. +1

The Leonard/Harold reveal is beautifully executed. This is how you do a plot twist. -1

Reggie refers to Klaus by name and by 00.04 in his journal. Why the inconsistency? If you know his name, why not use it all the time, Reggie? +1

In 2001, the kids were twelve. Reggie locked Klaus in the mausoleum as young as 12 and probably younger if the credit for 8 year old Klaus is anything to go by. +4

Reggie’s notes say that Klaus is resistant to this. No fucking shit, a child is resistant to facing their greatest fears with no support. +4

Title screen is on the umbrella in Reggie’s journal. Classy. -1

Five tosses Allison’s coffee behind him when he’s done with it. This goes back to his Apocalypse days, but you would think that sort of thing was frowned upon in the Commission. Or was really obvious during any missions he had as an assassin. Why is he doing this? +1

At the end of episode 6, Five slurps the coffee but here there is no slurp after “Who the hell is Harold Jenkins?”. +1

Leonard hears Five saying that he [Harold] is responsible for the apocalypse. This does not alarm Leonard in any way and he continues stealing Hargreeves’s action figure. +1

Also, Harold Jenkins happens to be in the academy right now as they’re talking about trying to find him. Choke on that irony. +1

Repeat scene shows no indication that the information Harold just got changed his reactions in any way. You would think that he would show a little fear or something? +1

Five isn’t treating his injury despite the fact that it’s causing him obvious pain and he has access to Grace and an infirmary because plot? They could easily have this chat in the infirmary while Five is getting stitched up. Five has been shown treating his injuries and does seem to possess more than half a brain cell, so not taking care of the shrapnel wound is a weird deviation in his character. +3

Speaking of brain cells, thank goodness Allison has one because she is the one asking relevant questions here. -1

Klaus and Diego are still pissed at Five for getting drunk while Hazel and Cha Cha attacked the mansion. Good job with the consistency in character motivation, writers. -1

“Temps Commission.” Maybe season 2 will give us the Temps Aeternalis. +1

Aidan Gallagher’s delivery is okay, but not stellar. I think it’s the tone that’s off. I think I’m judging him too harshly. This is hard to deliver because it’s an exposition dump seven out of ten episodes in. So this sin goes to the writers for making these paragraphs- not lines, paragraphs- that deliver information the viewer already knows. At this point, cut the scene short or show Vanya and Leonard again so we can skip the second Commission lecture. +1

And the reactions that Diego, Allison, and Luther have are so varied because they have such different levels of understanding. Allison, who knows the least, asks “What do you mean, protect time and space?” This level of info dumping this late is dumb. +1

“I look like a thirteen year old boy.” No you don’t. Real thirteen year olds do not look like fifteen year old Aidan Gallagher. For example, look up what Gallagher looked like when he was actually thirteen. +1

“Klaus talks to the dead” oh so we’re just stating the obvious now. Who wrote this scene? +1

How does Five know Claire’s name? Just one shot of a magazine in his apocalypse bunker was all we needed. The magazine that says Patrick and Claire are doing just fine without Allison would have made perfect sense. +1

If we don’t get Five and Claire meeting at some point istg. Sin until they meet.+1

Once again, Luther the moon and the apocalypse are connected, just not in the way you think. Reggie, you suck. +1

“Klaus you’re with me.” Diego and Klaus make a great team. -1

Five’s face when Klaus says he’s feeling under the weather. Considering Five’s injury, this makes sense for the character. -1

Five gives that look to Klaus. Five, you’re hiding a life threatening wound for no reason. You don’t have room to judge. +1

The old man walk looks ridiculous. Five is so obviously injured and Allison and Luther, who watch as Klaus, Diego, and Five walk away, don’t notice this odd walk. +1

We follow Hazel instead of Cha Cha because their story in this episode isn’t affected by Five’s time travel decision. However, the only part of this story we need is the part at the end of the episode. +1

Diego is driving, Five has shotgun, and Allison is in the back. They totally fought over who would sit where. That scene would have been way more interesting than the Hazel and Cha Cha repeat scene. Also, I kind of want to write about that fight now. You know Five wanted to drive. And that when Diego insisted on driving so he and Allison wouldn’t get in trouble for letting a minor drive or something like that, Allison and Five fought over the passenger's side seat. Well adjusted or not, fighting over that seat is what siblings do. +1

Allison, you could just waltz in there and ask for it. Don’t suggest that plan if you aren’t going to do that. +1

Five’s power or Allison’s power would be very useful, yet Diego choses to get the file himself. This wastes valuable time. And Five is okay with that. +1

Five refers to his powers as “blink” not “jump” which is what the fandom has been calling it. +1

Five has not slept at all in a couple days. And he’s making decisions about the end of the world. +1

Diego “made a call. That’s what a leader does.” But the call he makes is fucking stupid. This is a grab the thing and get out mission. Two people in the academy have powers that would work wonderfully for this type of mission. And they happen to be right there. Even with Allison refusing to use her power, it’s stupid to not have Five just blink in and grab it. Diego is a shitty leader. +1

Beeman just tells Diego that he is the prime suspect in Patch’s murder. This is so dumb on so many levels. Sigh. +1

Beeman has already said shit that would make him lose his job. At this point he’s arguing with Diego to pad the episode’s run time. +1

Whoever did Emmy Raver-Lampman’s makeup for this scene screwed up her brows really bad. Or maybe just her brow highlight is messed up. Or the blending on her eyeshadow. +1

Five is just sort of standing there and leaning against the wall. This is supposed to be another hint that he’s injured but it just looks stupid. +1

Allison’s heartfelt message to Vanya shows remorse and a genuine want for connection. -1

See! This cut where Allison doesn’t explain to Five and Diego who Leonard is because the viewer already knows and this can therefore happen off screen is good! Use this more if you’re going to do episodes like this. -1

Luther turns to alcohol because he doesn’t feel like he has any support. I’m sad now. Poor Luther! -1

And my sympathy disappears when Luther starts choking Klaus. That is some fucking bullshit. +1

I understand that Luther is drunk and not capable of complex decisions right now, but this seems excessively cruel. I think this is on the writers and not necessarily on Luther himself. +1

Why isn’t Ben seeing this? Later on, it’s like Ben didn’t see what Luther did here. This sin makes more sense later on in the episode. +1

Klaus is genuinely trying to make Luther feel better after Luther just choked him. Klaus is a good brother. -1

Klaus suggests going to find Allison. It’s like he knows what happened last episode. Oh, show. And yes, you can argue that Klaus knows that Luther and Allison were close. Then my counter argument would be that Klaus knows Allison is off saving the world. Yes, helping Luther is important, but Klaus can do it. Klaus needs more faith in himself. +1

Luther’s smile when Klaus calls him Number One and starts quoting poetry at him. “O captain, my captain.” -1

This immediately transitions into crying. My poor babies. +1

Klaus attempts to say “that’s not true” but can’t because he knows that Reggie is the type of person to send someone to the moon so he doesn’t have to look at them. Reggie is a dick. +7

Luther looks so lost and broken and sad. Tom Hopper, you asshole. I am actually crying a little bit. I’ll take a sin off because Tom Hopper made me feel emotions. -1

Robert Sheehan is an excellent actor. -1

Luther shoves Klaus out of the way with no regard to where he lands. What if Klaus’s head hit that furniture! +1

The Hazel and Cha Cha scenes would have been stronger if we left them in the last episode. Maybe one or two establishing things to show that they aren't affected by the time change and that’s it. All we needed was the order to not terminate Five and one of the messages. That’s it. +1

Hazel has a birdwatching book which shows that he wants to learn about Agnes’s interests. Cute. -1

They are trying to imply some kind of relationship between Hazel and Cha Cha! Cha Cha having feelings for Hazel doesn’t make sense. +1

“So do most serial killers and mass murderers. I mean look at him” “Thanks.” The delivery of “thanks” always bothered me. It could have used a little more sarcasm. +1

Diego doesn’t wait for Allison or Five to open the door. Nor does he let them offer suggestions. +1

Diego doesn’t even test the doorknob. Dumbass. +1

Diego seems like one of the competent siblings until he does this mission with Five and Allison, who have the family brain cells. This is amusing, but also makes me question the badass Diego moments. +1

If we don’t get more Five and Allison in season 2 imma riot. These characters work so well together. +1 

The way they make fun of Diego together is peak sibling culture. -1

“You need to see this.” Please just stop giving Allison these bullshit lines. +1

Five’s run is weird. He’s lifting his knees really high. This is one of those things that I shouldn’t have noticed. +1

Bottom left poster. Klaus hit the woah sixteen years too early. +1

Harold had time to scratch their faces before going to jail or Leonard did this at some point as an adult. Creep. +1

He also mangled the action figures even further. +1

Five isn’t looking so hot because the plot demands it right now. He was perfectly fine cracking jokes with Allison earlier. +1

Looking closer at the wound, we can see that Five not taking care of it right away is total fucking bullshit. That looks serious and like it could get infected easily. Five, who grew up in an apocalypse, would know to take care of shit like that. If he didn’t then he would have died in the Apocalypse.+1

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Diego would be excellent at cinema sins. +1

Five doesn’t answer this question because the answer is “The writers needed a convenient way to get me out of the picture for a couple hours.” +1

Harold’s father took him fishing. I don’t want to know why. +1

“We don’t have to stay here. We can just get a shitty motel or something.” Or ya know, go back to your apartment, Vanya. Or is Vanya’s apartment like Five’s injury in that it only exists when the plot needs it. +1

Off topic, but why is Vanya talking about chord progressions with her beginner violin student. Chords and violin don’t go together when you first start learning. This is a weird example. +1

Leonard is a manipulative bastard. He knows exactly what to say to make Vanya bend to his will. +1

We aren’t even halfway through the episode and I have been doing this for over two hours. This says a lot about the kinds of sins this episode has. Right now we’re at the end of page 6. +1

Vanya followed Leonard to a cabin in the woods in the middle of nowhere. They’ve known each other for less than a week. I wouldn’t trust some of the people I’ve known for years the way Vanya trusts Leonard. +1

Hazel has known Agnes for less than a week and now he wants to run away with her. +1

Agnes is willing to run away with Hazel despite knowing him for less than a week. +1

Hazel and Agnes are using the “Life is short” thing, which it is, especially with the impending apocalypse, but that doesn’t change that they’ve known each other for less than a week. +1

“Her job’s her life.” so why don’t you show that, show? Cha Cha’s motivations make no sense. +1

Hazel and Agnes theme! I love that piece. -1

The way Hazel is holding her looks really funny. I am amused. -1

Ben pressuring Klaus to help Luther despite all the physical harm Luther did to Klaus. I am sinning this again. Why didn’t Ben see this? Or does he just not care? This is either a sin for the show for not remembering where Ben is or a sin for Ben for not caring about his brother. +1

Ben creates a shadow but he is supposed to be invisible. I don’t think that’s how light works. Is Klaus the only person that can see Ben’s shadow? Is Klaus sober enough that he’s starting to make Ben corporeal? How does this work? +1

Right now if anyone looked in that alley, Klaus would look fucking crazy. +1

The guy walking past doesn’t care that Klaus is talking to nobody right now. +1

“You weren't ready to die violently at a young age” yeah. Seventeen, based on the portraits. Why does Ben’s ghost not look bloody? And why does he look like he’s in his late 20s? Ben should still look seventeen right? If Justin Min, age 29, is meant to be playing a 17 year old, then I have some issues. +1

Can Ben sweat? +1

The “if you were in trouble” line is delivered really well. Nice. -1

Ben’s tough love is more of a pep talk now. I like this version of Ben. He’s a little misguided, but he sort of gets the spirit. Heh spirit, Ben, get it? -1

“We should have taken him to the hospital” Allison would be excellent at cinema sins. +1

“We gotta get the shrapnel out.” Yeah, but that is not priority one right now. Is there any pressure on the wound right now? +1

This repeat scene with Diego and Grace makes sense because it’s at a different time. -1

“Seven bars, three strip joints, and a laundromat.” Why the laundromat? +1

Ben’s shadow is even more pronounced now. +1

Convenient rave girl talking to herself about Luther with a good description is convenient. +1

“Holy Shit” said in unison. Nice. -1

Ben and Klaus wouldn’t know about Luther’s monkey transformation, so the reaction checks out but not the description. Maybe “big” was why they decided to check it out? +1

Rave girl thinks Luther is a furry. This is funny. -1

Luther offers Klaus drugs. That’s nice, I guess. -1

Offering your newly sober brother drugs. +2

Ben is honestly a life coach from hell. “Stay strong don’t give into temptation.” Remember your mantras. Meditate. Drink lots of water. +1

Though, that does make sense. A dead guy would be a shitty life coach. +1

What’s with the weird light on the pill that Klaus threw? Is that a secondary power? Being able to find drugs? +1

No one steps on or trips on Klaus, who is crawling around on the floor in a room full of high/drunk/whatever people. +1

Klaus’s flashbacks. Putting my boy through trauma. +1

Dave turns into the pill because the pill symbolises everything holding Klaus back from summoning Dave. Symbolism. -1

Grace is treating Five’s shrapnel wound in his room instead of the infirmary. +1

“Receptionist at her music school” wait. Vanya has another job teaching music? She has three jobs? How in the hell did she have time to do any of this stuff? +1

Allison’s face when Diego says Luther was right. That was amazing. Emmy Raver-Lampman, you genius. -1

The City has no people around right now other than Diego, Allison, and the cops. +1

“Why would you ask that about me?” because you carry pointy things and throw them into people, Diego. That’s why Allison asks if the police are right about you murdering someone. +1

Allison would be excellent at cinema sins. She reiterated my last point. +1

Why did they send that many cops to go arrest one guy? Did they expect the entire academy to fight them? +1

“You killed a cop, asshole.” Rodriguez did the police academy teach you nothing? You can’t say shit like that to a suspect? +1

Finally, someone reads Diego his Miranda rights. Doing the bare minimum is impressive for these cops. +1

Diego, you edgy bastard. Spitting on the ground? Great. Make these people even more pissed off then they already are. +1

Vanya’s power is mostly destructive and Leonard should know this based on the book. So why is he trying to get her to summon a boat? Or destroy a boat? This doesn’t make any sense. +1

“I watched everything my brothers and sister could do ruin their lives.” The Umbrella Academy in a nutshell. +1

Also, if you saw this, then why the fuck did you want powers, Vanya? +1

“Do I stare really hard? Am I supposed to point my fingers?” Actual conversation Ellen Page had with the director somehow made it into the show. +1

This scene is so underrated. It’s so funny watching the music swell and nothing happen. -1

“I look and I feel ridiculous. I have no idea how they did this stuff with a straight face.” -1

“You are so invested in this.” Yeah, girl. Red flag. +1

Convenient burning not obscuring the words of the “terminate Hazel” message is convenient. +1

Do we really need the repeat of Cha Cha getting the message? +1

Cha Cha doesn’t notice Hazel behind the curtain despite being a trained assassin. This is why Five was the best. +1

Hazel doesn’t kill Cha Cha. +1

Netflix subtitles have Ben saying “Oh shit, Luther” when it’s clearly Klaus saying that line. +1

Klaus’s desire to help his brother is stronger than his need for drugs. -1

For whom the bell tolls? The bell tolls for Klaus. +1

Little Girl on a Bike God takes her lines directly from the comics. -1

She plays the pronoun game with Klaus despite Her being all knowing. Or She does this to be an asshole. +1

The barber shop looks like a little barn from the outside. Clever misdirection. -1

“Nite Owl Barber Shop” -1

“Barber banter may offend” no kidding. With Reggie working there, need I say more. -1

The pictures of Luther, Diego, Reggie, Dave, Five, and possibly young Ben on the wall. -1

Five’s hair looks really dumb in the photo aslkdj;gaf. -1

Artful close up shot of Robert Sheehan’s face. -1

Reggie is a dick. “What in God’s name took you so long?” Maybe he didn’t want to see you, asshole. +1

Was Colm Feore actually shaving Robert Sheehan? +1

I am going to sin Reggie being a dick in advance here so I don’t have to sin every line. +20

Klaus brings up an interesting point. How did Reggie know about the apocalypse? +1

Klaus is crying when Reggie says that he killed himself to bring them all back together. On some level, Klaus cares for this man. Empathy. -1

Just as Reggie starts to say something important, he disappears because of course he does. If the characters actually spoke to each other about important things then there would be no plot. +1

Klaus was dead and now he’s not. Why didn’t he wake up in the apocalypse? +1

Kenny’s mom sighting. She’s at the rave. +1

Leonard pays these guys to beat him up. Did he also give them a script? +1

Vanya’s powers activate when the rain starts but only become visible when she fears for Leonard’s life. Good choice. -1

Hazel doesn’t kill Cha Cha. Killing her would help him out in so many ways, yet he doesn’t do it. Or remove his tracker. Or her tracker. Or anything. +1

“I’m in love” You’ve known her for a couple days at best. +1

“Wake up and smell the coffee.” This is part of the reason why I headcanon Five’s coffee addiction came from the Commission. +1

Hazel can’t bring himself to kill Cha Cha after she threatens him and the woman he “loves” because of years of friendship in a job he hated? That she loved? I’m confused. +1

Allison is going after Vanya alone. She is going to this cabin in the woods alone. Horror Movie 101, Allison. +1

Now Ben looks concerned. All it took was Klaus’s literal death. +1

Luther and the rave girl are both too high to consent? I don’t like the vibes. +1

Diego is in jail because of his own stupidity. +1

The police didn’t give him back his sling. The man is walking around with a gunshot wound, assholes. +1

The shot of the eye before the camera focuses on Five symbolizes Five putting the apocalypse before everything. -1

Vanya looks so scared in the hospital. Excellent acting. -1

The shot of the eye also reminds us that the eye exists at all which makes the eye reveal more dramatic. -1

Overall Review:

Okay, so if episode 5 is where the viewer truly learns what’s going on, then episode 7 is when everything truly comes together. All the loose plot threads fit themselves together in this episode. In fact, you could argue that the Leonard/Harold eye reveal is the most important reveal after the whole Vanya has powers reveal. The eye makes sense now. 

You know what? I challenge all the fic writers who read this to write a “watching the show” style fic, but only using this episode. Drop this episode on them in the middle of one of the early episodes and then have them try to stop the apocalypse based on it. Tag me when you’ve posted it and/or gift it to cherriesareneat on ao3. I will probably be writing my own version of this at some point. 

There are a ton of great moments in this episode. The important beats being the Harold/Leonard reveal, Five’s injury, Luther at the rave, Klaus’s death, Reggie’s reveal, Vanya’s powers reveal, and the eye reveal. These were mostly well executed with the exception being Five’s injury. 

Also, let me know if you prefer the long sins/short analysis style I’ve been trying out recently. 

Total: 152

Sentence: What is character motivation? Where am I? I am confused.

[iflostreturntosteverogers]

Make It Stop

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam, Garth (mentioned)

Warnings: Angst, Self-Harm, Depression, Comfort. Please heed the warnings.

A/N: Thank you, @galaxy-and-star-collector​ for letting me use the words you so often tell me in these moments.  Beta’d by the ever-lovely @fictionalabyss​.

Masterlist. Commission Information.

      “Dean doesn’t need you calling him and interrupting his job. You need to get your shit together.” You tell yourself, placing the phone back on the nightstand and pulling the covers back over your head. 

You know what you need to do. Your hateful mind sneers. You want to feel something? You know where it is. 

 You whimper trying to ignore the intrusive thoughts. Dean would hate you and probably leave when he found out how broken you really are.

He already hates you. Why do you think he left you behind? He wants away from you. 

Tears roll down your cheeks, a slight shake beginning to take over your body. You’d barely left the bed over the last week. Dean had checked in on you a couple of times, giving you updates and telling you he would be home soon. You dutifully painted a smile on your face and told him everything was good and to be safe, but when you hung up the mask fell away, the darkness returning.

      “Dean!” Sam snaps his fingers in my face, grabbing my attention. 

“What?” 

“You alright, man? I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last two minutes.” Sam’s face is etched with concern looking at me. 

“I don’t know, Sam. Something just doesn’t feel right. My gut says go home.” 

“Is Y/N okay?” 

“She says she is. I’ve been video chatting with her more than calling so I can see her face. She smiles but it’s wrong, it’s not her smile. But when I ask she says that everything is okay and she just misses me.” 

“Maybe we should go home. Call Garth up and let him handle this one,” Sam says as he stands. 

“Yeah, I agree. Go pay and call Garth, I’m gonna check on my girl,” I stand and walk out of the diner to the impala, my phone to my ear.

      “Hey baby, Sam and I are coming home early. Garth’s gonna take this one for us. I know you say everything’s okay but I miss you. See you soon.” 

Guess you’re not that great of an actress. He’s coming home early because of you. Garth is having to work this job. Because of you. You’re ruining everything. 

“What do you want from me?” You whisper to yourself. The tightness in your chest growing.

Blood. Make the pain go away. 

You slip out of bed and make your way to what the boys affectionately called your craft room. Dean had set it up for you, filling it with everything you could ever need for your creative hobbies. You sit down at the desk, running your hands over the smooth wood and take a deep breath. Opening the top drawer, a shiny silver blade meets your eyes. You take the Exacto knife from the drawer, turning it over in your hand. 

Do it. 

You push away from the desk and practically run to the bathroom. Taking the alcohol from the small medicine cabinet, you sterilize the blade. You take several deep breaths and lay the sharp tool against your skin. 

“Baby, what are you doing?” Your head snaps up and you meet Dean’s terrified eyes in the mirror. 

“Dean,” you whisper. Your hands are shaking now and your breath is coming in fast and shallow. He takes you being distracted as the opportunity to make a move. He grabs the knife from your hand tossing it into the sink and pulling you tight against his chest. Sobs begin to wrack your body.

“Let it out, baby.” Dean rests his hand against the back of your head, holding you close. 

“I couldn’t take it anymore, Dean. I just wanted to make it stop if only for a little bit.” 

“Make what stop?” 

“My brain won’t turn off. It’s constantly going a million miles a minute, worrying about everything, telling me how useless and terrible I am. I just wanted to feel something else, anything other than this crushing weight that’s settled in my chest and won’t go away.” You choke out the last word, a fresh wave of tears taking over. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because I didn’t want you to see how broken and weak I really am.” He pulls you away from him, holding you at arm's length. 

“You are not weak and you are not broken. You are so much more than what you think you are, darlin'. You're so fucking fantastic and you drive me crazy in a good way. You make me smile even when I don't want to, make me laugh even when I feel like I can't. You light up any room you walk into with your radiance and grace, baby girl. Even in your low moments, you think of us, you put others before yourself and that's a strong thing to do to mask how you feel for someone else. But you don't gotta do that with us, doll. We are here for better or for worse through sickness and in health. We love you. I love you. I’m not going anywhere, no matter what.” 

“Neither am I,” Sam says from behind Dean. “We’re not leaving and we’re going to get you through this.” They crush you between them in a hug. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, a small flicker of hope blooming in your chest.

Tags: @sorenmarie87​, @galaxy-and-star-collector​

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (gene/paul, nc-17) (part 23 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter:  Paul and Gene watch T.V. and continue to delay the inevitable.

          They went home after that, stopping only to pick up some more takeout for dinner. Paul was bemoaning it a bit, and offering to make them both sandwiches instead, even when he was pulling up to the restaurant.

         “I’ve gained three pounds just this past week.”

         “You’ve been weighing yourself?”

         Paul looked at him weirdly.

         “Well, yeah. Every day.”

         “Even since this happened?” Gene was a little bewildered to think that even getting cursed hadn’t been enough to distract Paul out of that particular concern.

         “Yeah. I think I’m still gaining it all in the abdomen.” Paul took a disgusted glance down at himself, assuming he could even see his stomach past his chest. Gene was beginning to wonder. “We can’t keep eating like we’re on the road.”

         “Can’t we?”

         “Fuck, no.” Paul grimaced, shaking his head as he parked the car and turned off the engine. “I spent the entire break trying to get my weight down.”

         “You look fine. Why are you so worried?”

         “The costume girls’ll have a fit.”

         It was the first time either of them had mentioned anything related to the tour all day. It cut through the Central Park fantasy like an Exacto knife. Gene wasn’t going to have some cute girl—this cute girl—hanging on his arm for much longer. Maybe no more than a few hours.

         Gene rubbed his elbow uncomfortably. Paul, gazing at his own reflection in the car mirror and pushing his hair in front of his shoulders, didn’t seem to notice, so Gene pushed the rest of his thoughts aside. They got out of the car together; Gene paid for the food, and they returned to Paul’s place soon after. Half the takeout was gone before they’d even gotten home with it. They finished off the rest at the kitchen island, then laid around on the couch awhile, T.V. running in the background while Gene read and Paul doodled.

         It was kind of funny, really. Occasionally it felt like nothing had really shifted. Still watching T.V. together like they used to in the hotels, back when getting laid after the show was a distant hope and not an inevitability. Eating out of Styrofoam boxes. Joking around and shooting the shit.

         The rest of the time, Gene was painfully aware of how much had shifted. There was the sex, sure, even if they hadn’t gone all the way, but that wasn’t the whole of it. He’d still have his gloomy spells, sure, but overall, Paul seemed so happy. So open. So—maybe Gene was giving himself too much credit, but Paul seemed—taken with him. He’d never been aware of anything like that out of Paul before. If those big, dark eyes had ever looked Gene’s way with half the warmth and attention he was getting now, then—well, then, Gene hadn’t noticed.

         He’d thought Paul didn’t like him a bit when they’d first met, in fact. He’d been high on his own bravado, and Paul had just hung in the periphery of his circles. Somebody had introduced them, and Gene had popped off immediately, something like oh, you write songs?, and Paul—well, he’d been Stan, and Stanley if you wanted to piss him off, back then; he hadn’t gone by Paul until a year or two later—had snapped right back with an affirmative.

         He remembered asking him to play one for him, and Paul had. The song was a lousy, incoherent mash-up of the Stones, Bowie, and the Beatles at their most soused, and his playing was worse. But somehow after, they’d just… Gene didn’t know. He couldn’t remember a definitive point where they’d clicked. Paul had still been in the process of nearly flunking out of high school, while Gene was a sophomore, or maybe a junior in college. But he remembered starting to call him up after classes, inviting him to parties and jams. He remembered thinking Paul was standoffish and nervous, not cut out at all for the rockstar career he was so desperate for. But he didn’t remember ever getting the feeling Paul dug him. More that he was just lonely.

         He didn’t want to delve into it too deeply. Rethink nearly ten years of interactions. It wouldn’t do any good, and it wouldn’t change any of the way things were right now. He watched Paul kick up his ankles against the arm of the couch, and finally spoke.

         “What did you take us out for, anyway?”

         Paul glanced up from his drawing. It was something weird and abstract, not the eerily-accurate dick sketches Gene was accustomed to out of him. Hatchmarks, parallel lines, and weird, elongated shapes were well on their way to completely covering the sketchpad.

         “To pay you back. I told you.” The pencil resumed its scratch across the page.

         “No, why did you really do it?”

         “Because we’d never get to again.”

         That was all he said for awhile. The words hung like streamers. Gene sort of wanted to argue him down, even though he wasn’t wrong. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t know exactly what Paul meant.

         “You can take me out anytime.”

         “Not like that.”  Paul shifted abruptly. “I’m gonna go shower.”

         Gene raised his head, half at the words, half at the slight thump of Paul’s sketchpad next to him on the couch.

         “Want some company? I hear there’s a water shortage.”

         Paul shook his head. Gene felt guilty at his own weird relief. For whatever reason, Paul wasn’t ready yet. They could keep on pretending for awhile longer.

         “Maybe later tonight.”

         Gene nodded. Paul’s expression seemed a little bit strained, but he turned and headed for the bedroom, not closing the door behind him. A minute or two later, Gene could hear the sound of the water running.

         Then he got up, looking through the living room’s bookshelf as if he hadn’t done it prior. Paul didn’t really read for pleasure. He had stuff like  The Power of Positive Thinking,  Games People Play, I’m OK – You’re OK, and a ragged copy of  How to Win Friends and Influence People, the last of which was highlighted like a book of scripture. Gene had been flipping through it while Paul drew.

         Then he had magazines with his face or KISS’ picture on the front cover. No intellectual reading material at all, though that wasn’t what he was looking for. At the bottom of one shelf were Paul’s junior and senior annuals and a small line of photo albums. Gene pulled one of the older-looking albums out at random.

         It was green and typical, with thick black pages. Probably one Paul’s parents had started of him. The initial contents weren’t surprising. A faded birth announcement. A taped-in lock of baby hair dated August 2, 1952—Paul’s parents hadn’t bothered with upsherin, so maybe it was no wonder he’d never had his bar mitzvah. Sepia infant photos—Gene swallowed a bit when he realized that even in the pictures where Paul was barely able to sit up on his own, the photographer had him posed with his head turned to the right, to hide the microtia. Some pictures from birthdays. A picture of him along with the rest of his second grade class. They were lined up by height, and Paul was standing towards the back, easily recognizable just from the eyes and expression. By that point, he’d apparently figured out the pose on his own; he was almost aggressively facing right, while everyone else was looking the camera head-on.

         All that misery and insecurity over two square inches of missing cartilage.

         Gene shook his head. He flipped past most of the rest of the pictures of Paul as a kid, past even the awkward handful from when he was a teenager, before finally coming up on photos slightly closer to current. He’d apparently kept a few Polaroids from Wicked Lester and the earliest days of KISS, before they’d even had the makeup. Then, as he turned the pages, he found a scattering of random, more recent shots. Paul goofing off in hotel rooms. Paul lounging in swim trunks by the pool. Paul in a tux sucking cake frosting off his fingers at Ace’s wedding.

         He was trying to hammer in his head that this was how Paul really was and really looked. He was trying to figure out if he’d still be attracted to him once he was back to normal. If he’d feel something while he looked at the pictures. Start getting hot under the collar, maybe, the way he did with Playboy centerfolds. But—well, Paul only tried provocative poses when he had on the greasepaint, and most everything in the album was barefaced and fairly candid. Gene wasn’t sure he was feeling anything beyond some fondness while looking over pictures of Paul in front of the Eiffel Tower or eating poi in Hawaii.

         That bothered him. Not that he was planning on jacking off to a stupid picture of Paul sitting shirtless on the hood of his car, but—he’d—he’d wanted something definite out of this. Arousal or repulsion. He needed to know. Whether Paul had wanted him for four days or four years, Gene owed him that much.

         The dull white noise of the shower cut off. Gene put the photo album and the book back on the shelf and waited for Paul’s returning footsteps. Maybe later tonight, he’d said. Maybe later than that.

--

         Paul spent longer than he meant to in there. Cleaned himself up, washed his hair and shaved. He’d gotten into the habit of shaving almost everything but his chest and sometimes his underarms because of the tours. Now that he was basically down to only having to worry about his underarms and legs, the effort took two minutes or less, leaving him just standing useless for awhile under the spray.

         He knew what his next move ought to be, just as well as Gene did. Invite him in, get rid of the whole virginity problem, and get back to normal. There was no reason to keep delaying it. He’d had his time with Gene. More of it than he probably deserved, the way that they’d already wormed themselves out of the curse’s terms of consummation, like wily lawyers with contracts.

         He wasn’t scared. Well. He wasn’t just scared. He knew it was probably going to hurt. He hadn’t tried to penetrate himself since that second night with Gene, and even Gene’s fingering had pretty much been rubbing. If he couldn’t tolerate a finger inside him, a dick would be even worse. Paul was tempted to blame it on Carol, but if one less-sexy Playboy article was anything to go by, it was really just his nerves. He’d have no bulwark against them, either, no drugs or alcohol, when he slept with Gene. When he really slept with Gene.

         That wasn’t his real problem, anyway. His real problem was the same as ever. Knowing it would all be over as soon as he let it happen.

         He skimmed a hand over one newly-smooth thigh, fingers sliding across his wet skin. Up to his stomach, then his breasts, idly pushing them together. Considering. Wondering how it must’ve felt for Pinocchio once he got everything he ever wanted, once he was flesh instead of wood. Funny how that was Gene’s takeaway from that movie. Work hard, get your wish. Input-output. But he wasn’t going to get his wish here. Paul couldn’t be a real girl for him. No part of him ought to have ever wanted to try.

         He’d just have to steel himself up for the end, that was all. Delaying it too long was only going to make it worse. It was—it was abysmal, not having taken care of it already, when he’d been so desperate to do it only the day before. But he couldn’t bring himself to commit just yet. Whether out of cowardice or longing, he didn’t know. He wanted to keep messing around with Gene as long as he could. Have Gene keep looking at him, keep touching him. Keep being with him. 

         He swallowed thickly, stepped out of the shower, and dried his hair off a bit with a towel, pulling on a bathrobe before heading back out to the living room. Gene was still on that same couch,  Hawaii Five-O playing in the background. Jack Lord was really starting to look craggy now.

         “You wanna go to bed?”

         “This early?” Gene looked a little amused, but Paul thought there might be something else there. Something on the border of disappointment.

         “There’s nothing on T.V.”

         “Did I play my cards right?”

         “You didn’t play them wrong. We can fool around some more. I’ll keep my top off.”

         It was a lousy offer for a guy who had girls chomping at the bit to sleep with him, and Paul knew it. But the grin he got in response was enough to make some of his guilt, some of his self-disgust, ease off, if only briefly.

         “C’mon, I’ve got an idea.”

--

         Gene followed him to the bedroom affably, taking off his borrowed t-shirt and tossing it on the floor. He didn’t start on his pants, but Paul did for him, unzipping and tugging them down. Gene’s mouth crooked up, uncertain but pleased.

         “You’ve got an awfully wide berth for fooling around, Paul.”

         “I’ve got an awful lot of practice.” Paul untied his bathrobe but didn’t take it off yet. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing beneath it. His hair was still pretty wet, skin pink from the shower. The musky scent of him was almost gone, rinsed away by the shower and soaps, only readily apparent again when Gene’s hand moved between his thighs. It was kind of a thrill to find that earlier hadn’t been a fluke. Paul just kept getting wet for him easier than even a groupie.

         Kissing down his neck as he kept stroking, getting a couple soft grunts in response, Gene wondered what Paul was up to. He was positioned a little awkwardly, legs spread wide, with Gene kneeling in the space between them. Paul kept shifting on the bed, posture a little stiff. Not like yesterday; he just seemed like he was deliberating, anticipating. Gene didn’t think Paul was comfortable enough to pull out any toys or handcuffs. Even light bondage seemed like a little much. Possibly—

         “Did you want to 69?”

         “Nah, I hate that shit. Give me your hand.”

         “Paul, if you’re going to tie me up, I want a striptease first.”

         Paul shrugged off the bathrobe and tossed it at him with a grin.

         “I’m not gonna tie you up, Jesus. Just give me your hand.”

         Impishly, Gene offered the right one, already soaked in Paul’s fluids. He was surprised when Paul took it, grabbing his wrist and pressing Gene’s palm into his cleavage, guiding it up and down. Gene felt a shiver run up his back, dick stiffening to full attention when Paul let go of his hand. The thin streaks of clear fluid left behind were their own promise, one that only got more definite as Paul lowered himself onto the bed, gesturing for Gene to come forward. He did, straddling him carefully, cock resting between his slightly-slick breasts. Paul squeezed them together experimentally, the brief pressure enough to make Gene twitch. Fuck. He hadn’t even fantasized about this one. Fucking Paul against the wall, eating him out--sure, sure. Paul letting him go for a titfuck had been way too far out of the realm of possibility for him to picture.

         “It’s enough, right?” Paul’s voice was soft, vaguely pleased. Gene grunted an assent. They were definitely enough. Another squeeze, though Gene hadn’t tried to thrust yet, Paul watching for his reaction. “Figured we could put them to some use.”

         “What’re you getting out of this?”

         “The same thing you got out of me getting off on your leg. A good view.” Paul reached a hand up, stroking along Gene’s arm. “Now c’mon, I don’t wanna have to put K-Y on my tits.”

[knightofthesevenfandoms]

Bureaucracy Pop Vinyl Tutorial!

Most of the things I learned about customizing pops I learned from @bringthekaos. She started customizing them 2 years ago when she made these two precious babies.

So really, all credit goes to her for figuring this shit out on her own lol.

Alrighty! Step one! Find pops that look fairly close to the shape you want. Clothing, hair, etc. For Gabe I was able to just use one pop and paint over everything. I used a Michael Scott pop from The Office because I loved the "World's Best Boss" mug he was holding and thought it would be hilarious for Gabriel.

So he was pretty simple. I mixed my own acrylic paint colors to get the right shade of grey for his suit, and the lavender color for his tie. His hair was a little more difficult, because Hamm's hair seems dark brown with some silver mixed in? So I did a kind of dark grey-brown color for the base and then dry brushed a little light grey on top (dry brush meaning coat your brush with the light grey color, and wipe most of it off so you get a really subtle look.) I painted his shoes brown first and then watered down some metallic gold to paint on top of that (of course with red soles because Jon Hamm wears Louboutins because he's a fancy bitch). Then paint those lovely purple orbs and you're DONE!

Bee was a little more difficult. Couldn't find one pop that had the right clothing and hair style, so I used two different pops. One for the head, one for the body. For the head I used Major from Ghost in the Shell, cuz I liked her hair and angry eyebrows haha.

It's pretty simple to remove a pop vinyl's head. Just boil a pot of water (deep enough to submerge the head without the plastic touching the bottom of the pan, cuz the plastic could melt). This particular pop is not hollow like most, it is solid plastic, so unfortunately you can't just pop the head off. You have to hold it in the water for about 20-30 seconds, so the plastic is softened, then use an exacto knife to cut the neck, as close as you can to the head. Then all you have to do is paint the hair (Major has a little blue ombre, so just paint over that with black acrylic) and make the fly. As a cosplayer, I have Worbla sitting around my house. (It's a thermoplastic you heat up with a heat gun, and once it's malleable you can basically shape it like clay, then it dries and re-hardens in a matter of minutes.) I've heard you can also use Sculpey clay, but I've never worked with it before. The great thing about Worbla is it bonds to itself EXTREMELY well, and also to other plastics. So I didn't even have to glue it to Bee's head, just warm up the bottom with the heat gun, hold it onto the head where I want it, and it will never break off. Ever. I could yeet this pop vinyl and that fly ain't going anywhere.

Now to the body. I used the Twelfth Doctor, because his coat had the look of Bee's morning coat. I also liked the idea of using a female pop vinyl for the head and a male one for the body.

WHAT IS GENDER.

Anywho.

This is what the body looked like before.

Again, I boiled the head (this one you can just wrestle it off the body, because it is hollow). You'll have to trim the neck a bit with the exacto knife to be able to attach it to the head later. I also held the body in the boiling water (probably best to do this before removing the head so you have something to hold on to while the body is in the hot water) and then cut the sonic screwdriver out of his hand, as close to the hand as possible. Now the real work begins.

PAINT EVERYTHING. Bee's tiny details almost broke me (the regalia, the crown lapel pins, the net/chain waistcoat, the sash, the pinstripe pants, THE FISHNETS. How dare that demon have the AUDACITY to wear ****ing fishnets grumble grumble grumble)

In short, buy the tinyest itsy-bitsy detail brushes you can find, and sacrifice a goat to Satan so your hand will be steady enough and you will have the GD sanity to paint those stupid details.

(Photo taken before the fishnet socks were painted on because I was about to rage quit lol)

Now instead of glueing the head onto the body (which you could definitely do, I'd suggest super glue or E6000) I once again used Worbla, because I wanted the strongest bond possible (especially since these are a gift and will be shipped across the globe lol).

So instead of glue, I just warmed up a tiny dot of Worbla and used that to fuse the neck to the head.

You can spray them with matte Mod Podge, as a sealant, and then YOU'RE DONE!

(Now if you're wondering what happens to the spare pop vinyl parts, like Major's body and the Doctor's head... yes, we do indeed have a drawer in our craft supplies of spare body parts.)

*Laughs in Frankenstein*

[thedappleddragon]

today I woke up at like noon and I think I was up until 5 am on accident? I don't remember. but I kinda bummed around for a while until I took a shower at 3 pm. I was gonna have a really nice shower with a candle and shower gel n stuff but I couldn't find a lighter and I started thinking about a bunch a shit I didnt really want to while showering. BUT I still enjoyed sitting on the counter like I always do after a shower and watching youtube and I impulsively shaved my legs for the first time in a year and a half and tbh I kinda really liked it :) ill probably hate it in a few days when its all prickly n shit but whatever lol. I literally spent the rest of the day running my hands over my shins because its so SMOOTH :D but I had a bandaid over a little bit and I didnt shave that so now I have a fuzzy spot in the smack dab center of my shin lmao. I made some food for my mom and then spent a few hours working on the brown paws and I completely finished one paw. I tried adding a cuff but it turn out like shit so I tried using a seam ripper to take it off but it was hard and didnt work so I cut the stitches with an exacto knife while listening to TAZ again. I got mostly through moonlighting chapter 2 and worked on the paws until my back hurt and I had to lie down and made some spaghetti. I brought down one of my WIP fursuit heads and thought about how to fur it and how to add shit like horns n teeth, and I have some ideas now. I think I want the color scheme to be brown and neon green and white and maybe black if I can get my hands on the right fabrics and furs and name him Toxic even tho that's probably really damn basic. I also kinda want to make some HUGE paws. I mean some SERIOUS bappers. a real set a BADANKERS. or maybe just some normal brown paws with funky accent colors. I ripped his nose off because I want to give him a bat nose because I think he would work really good as a bat. maybe give him monster claw hands? mini wings? idk yet I have to sketch it out and brainstorm some more. I wanna figure out to make proper cuffs for those paws but first I think I might make them longer because they basically only go to the wrist. anyway its 3am and im tired and gonna try to go to bed, goodnight :}