#just a little tidbit from playground eyes...... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

therosebunpost · 2 years ago

Text

Is this self indulgent? Yes, I hope you enjoy it too!

I’m taking Inspo from my recent Bully! Eddie idea, and mixing it with this!

So, Bully! Eddie x New Girl! Disfigured! Disabled!Reader, where Reader comes to school for her last year of high-school. She’s Eddie’s age, and has repeated school a few times to lead her to this point. Rumors spread, but one of the biggest ones is just how she ended up looking the way she does. Was it a car crash? A fire? A bear attack? No one really knows, and it’s even said that Reader changes the story every time she’s asked. Sometimes it’s more plausible, other times she spins this yarn that could rival Eddie’s own campaigns.

Obviously, Eddie is intrigued, but he’s also a dick, so he makes it his personal mission to find out just what happened to her. Here is where the previous idea comes in, because his plan involves getting her to tutor him. In his mind, it plays out like this: She tutors him and in between mathematical equations and world history, he pressures her into telling him what actually happened.

What really happens: Actually studying (which is a shocker to him), Reader countering his attempts, and the most surprising of all, Feelings??

It’s not long before Eddie realizes that these little study dates become less of an excuse to find out what’s happened to her, and more of a ploy to just know her. He feels like he does after a while. Like she’s slowly opening up to him despite not wanting to, despite turning down his more romantic advances with a scoff or a joke every damn time. After all, no one else in school knew how many surgeries she’s had, or her countless hospital visit’s. No one else knows the kind of music she listens to, or laughs with her about some stupid inside joke. No one else knows that when she was a child, she used to pretend to be a monster and scare the other kids on the playground. “They treated me like one anyway, so why not lean into it?” (That particular tidbit is one of his favorites.)

Eddie feels normal around her, for once. Less of a freak and more of a boy just trying to impress the girl he likes. He’s so certain that she likes him too. It’s in the way she looks at him, or doesn’t mind when he gets a little too close. It’s in the way she let him actually touch her face, and her scars. It’s in the way where she actually blushes when he teases her, her protests holding barely any heat.

He knows that he likes her, even if the thought scares him. In his mind, they may be the outcasts of the school but she’s the hidden princess just waiting to be discovered, and he’s just the troll keeping her locked away with association. That doesn’t stop him from stealing an extra sandwich from the lunch line for her when they study, or being her personal driver home when they finished. It doesn’t stop him from making her mixtapes, or making NPCs with her likeness. He may be a little mean to her, but he’s worse to the people around the two of them. To the dickheads who find it hilarious to mess with her, or the assholes who liked to stare.

Still, Eddie didn’t know why she kept ignoring his advances. Kept skirting around his flirting, or his professions of love. It all comes to a head when they smoke for the first time together, the weed leaving then both fuzzy. Eddie’s a sap when high, all compliments and sweetness, but Reader just seems to get more upset with every one.

“I’m not stupid.” She says, bitterness souring the floral perfume of the weed. “I know you can be a dick, but joking about that kind of thing is fucked up, Eddie.”

It’s in that moment that everything crashes into place. “…Someone asked you out as a joke?”

“…More then once.”

With the grace of a ballerina wearing sandbags on her feet, all heavy thumps and wobbling legs, Eddie’s right in front of her. Kneeling in front of her beanbag chair, brown eyes serious despite the pink rim. “I’m not joking.” He promises, so close that he can feel her breath on his face. So close that his nose brushes against hers. “I was never joking. I’m an asshole, but christ sweetheart, that’s…that’s some evil shit. I don’t deal in that.”

Her voice is soft, tentative. “…You don’t?”

“No. I’m more of a mischief maker. Apparently, I also can’t read people for shit. Is that why you keep turning me down? You really think me, The Freak Of Hawkins, would do that to my fellow companion in social exile?” He grins a little and that gets you giggling. “Sweetheart, that’s the kinda shit people like Jason and some of his cronies do. I should revoke your free weed privileges for even insinuating that-“

More laughter, and then you do something else. You pull him close, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders so your cuddling there on the beanbag. His heart is racing, his one tense body practically melting as you run your fingers through his wild curls. “….I was also…scared. I guess. No one’s ever really…payed attention to me like that before.”

“Well that’s their loss, and my fantastic victory.” He mumbles, hugging your waist and nuzzling your neck. The scent of your body wash tickling his nose. “I mean, fuck, I get to be with the ultimate survivor? My own bear fighter? The one touched by fire and lived to tell the tale? Sweetheart, you are the most metal of people. The most badass.” He leans back, cupping your face and lightly rubbing your cheeks. “So…please? Gimme a chance? No jokes, just my bleeding heart all for you to do what you want with.”

He kisses you for the first time that night in his van, then again the next morning when you wake up together. He calls you pretty, and the honesty in his tone sings.

#thebunspeaks #stranger things #fluffybunnycorner #eddie munson x reader #stranger things hc #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #this was just supposed to be a concept and instead I wrote a fic #whoopsie #anyway I love Eddie x disabled!reader and you can pry that idea from my cold dead hands #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #disabled!reader #disfigured!reader #Eddie munson x disabled!reader #Eddie x disabled!reader

59 notes · View notes

pcrasitic · 1 year ago

Text

̲̲ raul castillo, cis man + he/him ] ⠀★ , no way, haven’t you ever heard of CASTEL VELÁZQUEZ? perhaps you know them best as EL GUASON. spotted under new york's city lights, i’ve heard they’re a/an HANDYMAN & CAPO that’s protected by THE GUTIERREZ, spilled blood for loyalty is thicker than water. the rumour goes that the FORTY SIX is known to be possessive and testy, yet fearless and protective . it’s WRATH that’s their biggest vice, but hey, what do i fuckin’ know? their favourite song on the job is DEVILS PLAYGROUND by THE RIGS and are never seen without HIS MOTHER’S ROSARY, hard to believe in superstition in such a godless city. ask the right people and they’ll tell you that they remind them of: A TATTOO OF YOUR MISTRESS’ LIPS , FINGERS CALLOUSED FROM WORKING THEM TO THE BONE , A GREASY HAND-WRENCH , THE ART OF MAKING ENEMIES WHEREVER YOU GO . so whatever you do, and may vengeance have mercy on you, do not fuck with them.

BASICS

full name ━ castel velázquez

age ━ 46

date of birth ━ november 9th

place of birth ━ reynosa, mexico

zodiac ━ scorpio sun, sagittarius moon, taurus rising

orientation ━ bisexual

relationship status ━ married

face claim ━ raúl castillo

height ━ 5′9″

hair color ━ black

eye color ━ brown

tattoos ━ too many to mention. notably a woman's name on his neck

siblings ━ two younger sisters

TIDBITS ( death mention , illegal immigration mention tw )

born and raised in reynosa , mexico . a particularly bad part of mexico known for gang violence . his father shot and killed when castel was only 11 . he quickly became the man of the house , taking care of his mom and two little sisters .

shortly following the death of his father, the family illegally relocated to the US - his mother getting a job at a hotel chain in texas thanks to a friend who had moved to corpus christi just a few years earlier .

the move to the US didn’t bring with it what his mother had hoped . castel was used to a life in the streets , and found himself in the same sort of trouble as he did back home .

basically lived in corpus christi from the age of 13 until a handful of years ago , when he up and moved to nyc following behind his best friend

did a prison stint for about 4 years in his late twenties , but was released early due to an overcrowding issue .

he’s not rly a bad guy ?? just hella protective and will do whatever it takes for the people he loves . he often goes about it in all the wrong ways

bad luck magnet , fiercely loyal , extra large dumbass , grumpy old man

doesn't have a habit of starting fights per se , but definitely has a the need to finish them ( them as in any and all )

BIOGRAPHY

tbd .

WANTED CONNECTIONS

the friend they followed to NYC . ideally someone in the gutierrez clan but could be juicy to have his bff be affiliated elsewhere ??!!

a secret / unknown child !!! open to adjusting castle's timeline so any muse late 20's , early 30's who is at least half mexican could work for this

his wife ( juicy wc coming @ u in the near future )

more tba .

#pulptv.intro

3 notes · View notes

enby-jetstar · 5 years ago

Note

🌹

"We were pretty much the only kids out at the school, and everyone kinda thought we were dating, so senior year, we thought, 'why not?'"

#just a little tidbit from playground eyes......#👀#discocritic #ask game #playground eyes

9 notes · View notes

to-be-a-dreamer · 3 years ago

Note

fic title:

souvenir for my darkest day

lyric from: Big Cat Judgement Day - With Confidence

I just want everyone who was a part of the conversation in the discord to know that I had already started this before that, I didn't do this just to spite you guys. I may have made it a bit worse but...

This is so freaking long my goodness.

CW: death, guns

So, we start with Spot Conlon, the least sentimental person on the planet. He doesn't like to hang onto physical objects unless they have a practical purpose, he just doesn't see the point.

Now, he cares about his friends a lot, and they know that. He may not keep the things they give him but he remembers everything they tell him. Spot has never forgotten a birthday, he knows everyone's allergies, even the weird ones that aren't actually a problem, and he'll remember the smallest of details, even if he was only told once.

"Hey I was at the store and I got you some ice cream cause I noticed they had that brand you tried on vacation once but could never find again." "Wh- when did I tell you about that?" "Four years ago"

Enter Racetrack Higgins, the most sentimental person you will ever meet. This boy has an entire box full of random stuff he just found and thought was cool. Most of it is quite literally garbage, but he always cleans it before adding it to his stash. He also remembers exactly where every single thing came from

"Yeah, so this is a rock I found at a playground we stopped at on the way back from a field trip in the seventh grade. And this is a broken fork I found in the school cafeteria that I took cause I thought it was funny that someone managed to break a metal fork and just put it back in the basket. And this is an empty bottle of bubbles that's shaped like a cat. It had bubbles in it at one point, but I used them all cause I got it at a Halloween party freshman year of college and we were having a contest to see who could make the biggest bubble that didn't pop."

Every flat surface in his apartment is covered in little knickknacks, his walls are plastered with photographs, and he has saved every single gift he has ever been given, even if he hated it. He knows the story behind every single thing in his home and it's basically a physical representation of his love for his friends and family.

ANYWAYS the two meet, of course, probably at work or something and they start taking their lunch breaks together. And as they walk to and from the office (or wherever they work, idk) Race tends to stop at least three times a day to pick up whatever random object on the ground catches his eye. He finds a lot of coins, sometimes a neat-looking rock, occasionally something "useful" like a pen. Mostly a lot of random trash that most people would throw in the garbage immediately.

Spot thinks it's silly and teases him, but he always stops and lets Race pick up whatever he found. Race always hands it to him, so Spot looks it over and then hands it back, not realizing that Race is trying to give it to him to keep.

This goes on for literal years and at some point, they start dating. Race still holds onto every broken button he finds on the street, and Spot was going to donate his class ring before Race talked him out of it.

"I graduated six years ago, why would I keep it?" "You are utterly hopeless."

They're an interesting pair, but they work somehow.

Spot gets Race a flower press so he can keep the flowers and leaves he picks up on their walks. (The little nicknacks that cover their shelves are less annoying than he thought they would be because looking at them reminds him of Race.)

Race tells Spot every single detail about his day because he knows remembering those little things is how Spot shows that he loves him. (And his heart absolutely melts whenever his boyfriend brings up some random little tidbit he told him months prior in casual conversation like it's nothing)

One night, they're out on a walk again, and Spot notices a penny on the ground that Race doesn't and picks it up. He tries to give it to Race because he knows he probably wants it, but Race refuses, saying that Spot's the one who found it, so he gets to keep it.

"Now you've got a lucky penny all of your own!"

And Spot doesn't want this random penny, but Race is just so excited that he decided to pick something up himself that he just smiles and sticks it in his pocket, planning on putting it in the spare change jar when they get home.

That, uh, that doesn't happen.

They decided to stop at a little corner store and get some snacks and drinks before they went home. The only other person there was a young man, probably a few years younger than them with his hood pulled up to cast a shadow over his face. He seemed kind of shifty to Spot, but he brushed the feeling off, assuming the kid was gonna try to buy cigarettes with a fake ID.

Instead, the kid strode quickly to the front counter and pulled out a gun, demanding all of the money in the register. It must have been his first robbery 'cause the kid was jumpy, too jumpy to be holding a gun. Afterward, Spot couldn't even explain what went wrong, it had all happened so fast. All he knew was one second he was standing next to his boyfriend who was shaking like a leaf and the next there was a deafening bang that left his ears ringing.

I won't go too far into detail, you know what happened.

I will, however, tell you that Spot clung onto Race as tightly as he dared, watched him struggle just to breathe, and knew he couldn't do anything to help. All Spot could do was hold him and watch his eyes slip closed for the last time, listen to his labored breathing slow to a stop, feel him go limp against his chest.

He didn't let go until the police showed up (too late, always too late) and forced him to.

And throughout everything he had to do over the next few days, talking to the cops (no he didn't see the man's face, he was a little preoccupied with his boyfriend dying in his arms), telling all his friends and family what happened (no he wasn't alright, he lost the love of his life), and sitting through what felt like a million memorial services (no he didn't want help with meals, he just wanted Race back), the one and only constant in his life was the penny that he clung onto like a lifeline.

Spot wouldn't have been surprised if there was a hole in Abe Lincoln's forehead where he rubbed straight through the metal. The coin had hardly left his hand since he'd been forced to let go of Race's body. He had pulled it out of his pocket, gripped it tightly, and ran his thumb over the engraving.

And he kept doing that, for the first week after Race died, then into the first month, then the first year. Sometimes the feeling of that penny in his hand was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

His lucky penny, Race had said.

How lucky indeed.

#cw major character death #whoops sorry guys #goodness this is way too long #thank you thank you for the ask #jac tag #newsies #livesies #newsies live #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #sprace #newsies fanfiction #saf writes #saf’s fic concepts

25 notes · View notes

feralnumberfive · 4 years ago

Text

The Rewatch Academy: Episode 2 of Season 1

“Run Boy Run”

I am in no way a good analyst so my little analysis and speculations probably sound a bit goofy or pretty wild and probably mean nothing at all. Everything I put into this post about each episode is purely what I noticed or thought, whether it's funny or serious. I will be making jokes, so please just leave it at that (in no way am I trying to make fun of an actor and or character!) I am also in no way saying I noticed this stuff first. This is just what I noticed while rewatching these episodes

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

1x01 | 1x02 | 1x03 | 1x04

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

☂ Ben is a tired boy leaning on his chair

☂ Luther and Allison please stop making googly eyes at each other

☂ Five really woke up and chose violence that day huh

☂ Diego already knows shit is about to go down and it’s so funny

☂ I love that Reginald doesn’t even scold Five for stabbing the table

☂ Five: “I have a question.” blah blah blah Veggie is talking Five: “I want to time travel.” That’s not a question, Five

☂ It’s interesting to see young Five blinking/jumping compared to older Five. Even at this age, 13, he says that he’s still practicing his spatial jumps. Young Five needs to clench his fists and almost squeeze his eyes shut just to concentrate. Older Five simply just teleports without effort and is able to casually blink even as he’s just walking. Five probably practiced teleporting a lot in the apocalypse

☂ Someone else pointed this out, but all of the other Umbrellas are frozen for a for a second as Five teleports next to Reginald. While that freeze is just editing, and possibly a small error, this is another example of how Five’s spatial teleporting doesn’t make a noise. Luther, Diego, and Allison only look at Five when he begins talking to Reginald. Grace notices Five right away because he is in her line of sight while Luther and Diego were looking at where Five was sitting and Allison had her head down eating

☂ “The effects it might have on your body, even your mind, are far too unpredictable.” Harsh foreshadowing

☂ The “Run Boy Run” scene is one of the best musical moments in all of the show. It gave me chills when I first heard it, and the fact that all of the lyrics that play during that part match so perfectly with it make it even better. Tomorrow is another day being sung as Five travels into 2019 is just too good

☂ Imagine how scared you have to be to call out to your p.o.s father

☂ The instant regret immediately falls onto his face and he kneels in front of the Academy

☂ I love how in the first few episodes Five’s hair is styled exactly as it was when he was an old man and when he was actually 13. Over the rest of the season and the second season it just gets more disheveled and floppier

☂ “You think I didn’t try everything to get back to my family?” Ahhhh there we go, one of my favorite Five lines. This here is probably when I truly fell in love with his character. He spent 45 years just trying to survive and attempting to get back to his family. He would have spent more too if the Handler hadn’t taken him in

☂ Vanya is genuinely trying to understand what happened and Five was being a little asshole. C’mon, bud, she’s just confused and hasn’t seen you in forever

☂ This Five and Vanya scene melts my heart (simply as a sibling relationship!!) She doesn’t care anymore if she understands, she just wants him to stay because she hasn’t seen him in a while. Even Five understands that as his demeanor quickly changes from being frustrated to gently telling her “Night.” He watches her as she leaves, also partially realizing that he hasn’t seen her in a while too

☂ Why didn’t Five just teleport outside of Vanya’s apartment?? That would have been the stealthiest thing

☂ “All quick and efficient skills.” A little note on Five’s level of skill of slaughtering the Commission agents in Griddy’s

☂ Diego said he bought his police badge on Ebay, so computers do exist in the UA universe

☂ “By the way, this thing might look like a botched robbery, but my gut’s telling me something else is going on here.” Yeah, and that something else is your brother

☂ I want Claire to meet her uncles and aunt so bad

☂ So Ben has a ghostly puzzle book and pen he can use? Because if they were real Pogo would have been able to see them just floating in the air. What other ghostly items can Ben summon? (I believe this is more so just an error but it’s fun to think about)

☂ “I-I found it at a playground, actually. Must have just *click* popped out.” An underrated Five line

☂ Five immediately becomes aggressive at the thought of losing the eye, something he found clutched in the hand of his dead brother and was a clue to what caused the death of his siblings and the end of the world

☂ Just now noticed that you can see Diego up on the second floor being led down to where Patch is in the police station

☂ I really like that they added in the little tidbit about a cold case Five created 81 years ago

☂ I miss Patch. She deserved better and more screen time

☂ Hey, Diego might have been thrown out of the Police Academy but at least he’s still in The Umbrella Academy!

☂ Hearing Patch talk to Diego really made me realize that the Umbrellas weren’t even necessary for helping with crime. It was just Reginald’s way of training them

☂ Love the shot of Luther looking at Diego’s cross-stitch and the camera lining it up so it’s like he’s wearing the mask

☂ Five lying just to keep Vanya away and to continue on with his goal hurts. His goal is saving the world and his family, but I don’t think he actually took in what Vanya was saying to him or maybe he recognized the offer but shoved all of his feelings down. She was reaching out to actually get him some help and he lied to her to avoid that. Maybe he doesn’t care and is just blinded by his ultimate goal. Save the world and family first, then process your feelings and genuinely communicate with your siblings

☂ Don’t worry Klaus, I would have let you wear that outfit

☂ When Cha-Cha questions “Five” aka the poor tow truck guy, she asks him about “The London job in ‘66.” I believe she is referring to the Shepherd’s Bush murders where three policemen were murdered

☂ Hazel replying “Not from what I’ve heard.” when Cha-Cha asks if he thinks Five is a whimperer shows that Five definitely had a reputation in the Commission for probably being a cold and stoic guy

☂ Vanya is just trying to help, chill Allison 😭. You haven’t seen her in years, what do you know about her?

☂ Klaus would really slap his brother in the face to get drug money

☂ Another example of Five not making noise when he teleports is when he blinks into the taxi and Klaus didn’t notice that he had left until he turned to look where Five was. On the other hand though the taxi driver does jump as Five suddenly appears in the car. However, I believe that might be from the driver noticing Five in a mirror in the car

☂ I wonder what languages the Hargreeves siblings know. Vanya didn’t understand Leonard’s German. You think Reginald would have taught them multiple languages or maybe she forgot it if she was taught it

☂ I don’t know why but Luther just siting there and reading a book and almost getting hit by the knife is really funny to me

☂ Yeah Diego doesn’t have to prove his innocence, but it would have saved a lot of trouble

☂ Rewatching the scene with Leonard talking to Vanya about his father is just disturbing when you already know what happened to him and how he’s lying just to try to be more relatable

☂ I heard a rumor that smoking is bad for you ❌

☂ Vanya calling to make sure Allison is okay even though she hurt her makes me sad. She’s so nice and thoughtful

☂ The old man can’t even reunite with his wife before he gets hunted down

☂ The shot of Hazel and Cha-Cha putting on their masks in the dark with the music is 👌👌

☂ Again, Cha-Cha isn’t able to hear Five as he teleports next to her and slices her arm. She might not have noticed him though because he was very quick to attack her

☂ Five really went through all of that just to bring his wife home

☂ I think it’s an easily blocked out part because we already know what Allison has to say and it’s exciting, but Luther is apologizing about accusing Diego and causing issues amongst his siblings

☂ Five is just so defeated and emotionally tired that he doesn’t allow Luther to touch him. In fact, he very quickly and aggressively grabs Luther’s wrist. You can tell Five is a little out of it and I believe it was more so his subconscious stopping Luther. Five doesn’t want help, he’s going to carry the burden of figuring out who ended the world and killed his family as far as he can by himself

☂ “There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing any of you can do.” Are such heavy lines. Five is so emotionally and mentally tired at the end of the day and he sounds like he’s about to breakdown. He’s replaying the moment he found his siblings’ corpses. They weren’t able to stop the person who ended the world. Luther is offering his help, but Five is denying it. Luther couldn’t stop the person who ended the world. None of his siblings were able to stop that person. He’s telling himself that they can’t help and he’s telling Luther and Allison that too. Five wants to be alone to figure out who this person is. His siblings can’t help him

☂ Five coming across the corpses of his siblings is just heartbreaking. He first stumbles across three adults lying in the rubble. One of them is holding an eye. He goes to shake the man in all black, having a tiny bit hope that miraculously he is still alive. He stumbles across another body only to back away with tears in his eyes as he spots the tattoo on the man’s arm and realizes who these people are

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

Feel free to comment or reblog with things you have noticed too!

#the rewatch academy #tra #tua #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #1x02 #run boy run #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #number five #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #hargreeves siblings #leonard peabody

51 notes · View notes

phoenixhalliwell · 4 years ago

Text

Well Helloooo Nurse

Pairings: Will Miller X Gender Neutral Reader ( Nurse Lark but goes by the name of Birdie)

Word count: 1887

Author's Note: Good Evening all, welcome to the Will Miller show. Please be gentle as it��s my first time writing for him. I also have no idea how the inside of an ER works, i’m just winging this whole thing lmao I hope whoever stumbles on this enjoys it :)

Hope you don’t mind the tags: @lilacyennefer @cinewhore @dignityneeded

Thanks to his idiotic brother, Will ends up in the ER. Benny in an attempt to make amends, tries to be his wingman.

Throwing yourself down into your chair, you let out a small cry at the relief at finally being off your feet. To say it's been a long week is an understatement. Your back is in agony, your stomach won't stop growling and there's a throbbing pain behind your eyes . The ER has finally quietened down after a disastrous morning and you're counting down the minutes until it's home time.

'Is it just me or is time moving slower?'

You glance at the clock. Another 20 minutes and you are free for the next two days to do absolutely nothing. Closing your eyes you smile at the thought of the large glass of wine, warm bath and take out that awaits you when you get home. Your happiness is short lived though when you hear your name being called out.

'Urghhh, just leave me alone'

"Birdie, my good friend. How are you? You are looking fiiinnneee today, is that a new pair of scrubs."

Opening your eyes, you glare at your friend Letti who is currently batting her eyes at you. You scoff. You know for a fact you look like shit. Your hair looks like a bird's nest ( no pun intended) and you're pretty sure that your scrubs have seen better days.

"What do you want?" you narrow your eyes at her.

"You know how you're my absolute best friend and you love me so much? Could you find it in that golden heart of yours to stay on just a little longer and cover the end of my shift. It's only a couple extra hours. I wouldn't normally ask but Scott has managed to ship the kids off to his mum's tonight and it's been so long since we've had adult time, if you catch my drift. Please. Help me out here Birdie I am dying" She begs.

'Pfft least you're getting the option for adult time' you think to yourself. You watch as she clasps her hands to her chest and starts to give you the sad puppy dog eyes .You can feel your resolve start to crumble. Groaning, you throw your head back in defeat.

"Fine, but you owe me one and you better believe I will collect" you sigh. Letti fist pumps the air before grabbing your face and giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I fucking love you Birdie. I will name my next child in your honour" she promises.

"Yeah like I haven't heard that before" you snort, wiping your cheek. Letti suddenly thrusts a clipboard into your hand before rushing you through your next patient, eager to get home to her husband. You're not really listening to her, nodding along every so often as you try to decipher the chicken scratches on the paper in front of you.

' Did a child fill in this form?'

You hear snippets of what she is saying: "Hotter than sin..... If I wasn't married... wouldn't be able to walk straight"

You are finally able to pick out the important information:

Exam Room 3 - William Miller, 40, laceration to left arm.

'Ok I can work with that'

Calling out your goodbyes to Letti and telling her to have a good time, you make your way to exam room 3 to get started. Drawing back the curtain, you step into the room and call out

'Mr Miller?'

"Yes?" two voices answer at the same time.

" They are talking about me Dumbass, I'm the one that's currently bleeding no thanks to you. Please excuse my brother, he was dropped on his head a lot as a child" your patient apologises to you. You let out a snort at the quip. It's not until you get a proper look at his face that your laughter is quickly cut off.

'Oh' is all you can think before your mind goes blank. Sitting in front of you is a man you can only describe as an Adonis. Even though his face is twisted slightly in pain, you would gladly stare at him for the rest of eternity. Beautiful blue eyes, soft blond hair, a well groomed beard. Your mind takes you to some bad places when you think about that beard.

'Hotter than sin indeed...."

A choked out laugh causes you to tear gaze away from William and over to the other man in the room who waves at you looking far too amused.

'Oh god, he knows I was checking out his brother' You cringe internally.

"Hi I'm Benny in case you were interested" the other man jokes. He is also a fairly attractive man -you can see some similarities between the two. However, Benny has nothing on his brother. You shyly nod your head in greeting before making your way to Will's bedside.

"Ok Mr Miller, I am Nurse Lark. From what I could make out from your form, it says that you have a laceration on your left arm. Is this correct?" you ask the older Miller.

"Yes that's right. Sorry about the scrawl, Benny didn't make it past the 3rd grade." Will teases.

"Fuck you dickhead" Benny hisses back.

"Boys, settle down, this is an ER not a playground " you interject. Both men mumble their apologise and you try not to laugh. Gently picking up Will's arm, you turn his arm left to right to get an idea of the extent of his injury. He's lucky in the fact it's not too deep. Unfortunately it cuts directly through the tattoo on his lower arm. Potentially a future scar but that was out with your control. Raising your head, you notice how close you are to each other's faces. Will stares back at you and you lose yourself for a minute.

"For fuck sake, get a room" You hear Benny mutter behind you. You cough and busy yourself getting the equipment you need to start patching Will up.

"I'm sorry but this might hurt a little" you warn him in advance.

" Don't worry about me, I'm tough as nails " He smiles reassuring you.

You nod before getting started. So focused on your work, you didn't notice Will admiring you from where he sat. He liked the way your eyes never wavered from your task despite Benny blabbering on in the background. How your nimble fingers made quick work of his wound. He thought the way you stuck your tongue out slightly in concentration was the cutest thing.

Benny was quick to notice his brother's heart eyes and started snickering.

" You know what Will? Maybe if you're a good boy the nice nurse will kiss it better once they are done"

You glance up in time to see Will's face turn scarlet.

'Just when I thought he couldn't get any cuter'

"That's it, Benny get out now!" Will growled.

Benny sighs dramatically and sulks out the room but not without muttering "just trying to help you get laid dickhead". You glance back at Will who is now staring up at the ceiling, looking as though he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

"It's days like these I really wish my parents had got me a puppy instead of a little brother"

"Well from what I've seen of him so far, the man is basically a gold retriever in human form" you joke back. The laugh he lets out catches you off guard.

'I could get used to that sound.'

You had to stop yourself from sighing and scolded yourself for acting like a love sick fool instead of the professional you are.

The conversation came easy for you both after that. You started by telling him your name before the both of you shared little tidbits about each other. Will seemed like an interesting man from what information he gave. He was funny and incredibly smart.

'He's perfect' is all you could think. However, it didn't take long after Benny got asked to leave to finish patching the rest of Will's arm up.

"Well Mr Miller, I guess that's you done. Please make sure to keep the area as clean as possible and have someone help you change your bandages"

You feel sad at the idea of him leaving. It is evident that he feels the same by the way he stalls collecting his things. He looks like he's debating with himself before he finally turns to you looking determined.

" Would you maybe like to go to dinner with me sometime? I know we haven't met under the best circumstances but I had a really great time talking with you. I'd end up hating myself if I didn't at least ask"

Your heart races at the question and you don't hesitate to tell him yes. His face lights up and you find yourself falling a little more for Will Miller. Grabbing a pen from your top pocket, you hastily write down your phone number and hand it to Will. You both wish each other goodnight before parting ways. You find yourself grinning and bite your lip to try and contain your glee.

" Guess I will be naming my first child Letti"

Outside the hospital

Benny leans against the wall (pouting like a child) and waits for his brother . He still can't believe he got thrown out of the room. It feels like forever and a day before Will finally makes his appearance with a smug grin on his face.

'He looks like the cat that got the cream'

' What's with the grin man? Did they give you the good shit for the pain or something?"

Will shakes his head before showing Benny the piece of paper in his hand. A set of digits.

"William, you sly dog" Benny laughs in delight before he slaps Will's arm. He's quick to realise his mistake when his brother grunts in pain clutching his bad arm. Benny panics and makes to touch him but is stopped in his tracks.

"Don't . Fucking . Touch me. Just get in the fucking car. " Will hisses. He marches off to the car park, swearing under his breath.

'Well that victory was short lived' Benny thinks, following his brother.

Bonus Scene - Date night

'Is it just me or is time moving slower?'

You glance at the clock for what feels like the millionth time. Another 10 minutes before Will is suppose to arrive. It's been so long since you were last on a date and you can't remember being this nervous. You look down at your outfit and run a hand over it to make sure there wasn't any creases. Will had text earlier to let you know to dress casual for your evening out but wouldn't give you any more information. The sound of the doorbell interrupts your thoughts and you let out a nervous giggle. Trying not to seem too eager, you give yourself a beat before opening the door. You feel yourself go weak in the knees. Will is dressed to impress - A black leather jacket over a soft grey t-shirt with a nice pair of black jeans that does wonders for him. He lets out a soft laugh at the way you are blatantly eyeing him up before doing the same to you. He lets out a low whistle.

"Well hellooo nurse"

#Will Miller #william ironhead miller #will miller x reader #Triple Frontier #Benny Miller #ben miller #william ironhead miller x reader #hello nurse

189 notes · View notes

eye-of-enigmatic-thought · 4 years ago

Photo

When you arrived at the Habitat, you weren’t sure what to expect. Sure, you expected those cheesy patronizing motivational posters and videos, some strict rules, and that it wouldn’t do much in actually helping you get better (though it was better than nothing), but everything else? Those carnival attendants? How much different the air becomes at night? The man behind the Habitat himself? To say it was a surprise would be an understatement.

Your first meeting with Dr. Habit was... bizarre, sure, he seemed friendly enough and had a flamboyant goofy personality that you found charming, but it was definitely not something you were expecting from a professional doctor running a self-help program. You tried not to judge, everyone had their quirks, after all.

“Oh? Du we hav a niew addishun? : - )”

You had waited a long while in that dimly lit office, so Habit finally arriving and breaking your fidgeting and daydreaming made you jump, the wait time probably should’ve been a good enough hint that this was probably not the most adequate place, but you were desperate to find some place to stay, so here you are... in a dark office with this... giant of a man who was your doctor, and the office you were in seemed to have malfunctioning lights, so it was so dim that you couldn’t really see all of him.

“Hehehe! Why so jumpi? Et is only me, silli!” His voice was very deep and he had a Russian accent, yet despite having the recipe for having the voice of a James Bond villain his voice was incredibly soft, almost soothing, though he had a cheery and childish tone, was this big Russian guy trying to babytalk you??

You decide to ignore his odd tone and proceed to explain to him your situation and the reason for your sadness, how life has been so difficult, how no doctors have been able to help your mental health issues, and how you need some break from it all, just a place to stay before you get back up on your feet and feel more ready to deal with... well, everything. Throughout your explanation Dr. Habit was quiet and listening intently, you appreciated that he was listening, unlike the other doctors you’ve tried to talk to about your problems, though his expression felt... a little too eager to listen to your woes, and you could swear the more you looked at him and the shadows surrounding him, the more they seemed to shift...

“Sad! Sooo sadd! Life is ver harrd yes? I know too well...” At his last sentence, Habit’s previously cheerful demeanor shifted into being more solemn, but he quickly shifted back.

“But! Thatt is whi u come 2 my Habitat yes? Do not worri my frend, u may stae as looong as you like until u find yor smile! And if u can’t find eet...”

Habit gave a long pause, as if setting some sort of punchline, and he seemed to be reaching for something under the desk with his right hand, though he didn’t break eye contact with you. Before you could ask what he was doing, suddenly he shoved a large puppet replica of himself in front of you.

“U can stay for te BIG EVENT! And get yor smile then! : - )” Said the ‘Pabit’, or Habit ventriloquizing as the puppet. You just looked at the puppet in bewilderment, taken aback by just how... surreal this was, here you were in a dark office with a eccentric gigantic doctor that you knew nothing about aside from the official ‘website’ of the Habitat, possibly risking getting into something shady all because no other doctor has been able to help you, and this guy has a puppet version of himself that he’s using to talk to you right now...

You had to laugh.

Habit showed a content expression at the sight of your laughter, clearly pleased with himself for making you laugh.

“Seeee? Yor’r finding your smiiiile! See howw much we can helpp? But if you still cain’t find it, dere’s always the Big Event! : - ) : - ) : - )” He continued speaking with the puppet, you had to hand it to him, he did make you laugh and was surprisingly good at ventriloquism, he didn’t even seem to be moving his lips at all, though it was hard to tell due to how dim the office was. Still, as surreal as the entire thing was, you couldn’t help but find it charming. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad?

Habit then stood up, once again reminding you of just how large this man was. He walked around his desk and stood in front of you, slightly leaning down. You couldn’t help but be a little intimidated by his massive size, but he still held a cheery and friendly expression as he gently placed his left hand on the back of your shoulder, lightly pulling upwards to coerce you to stand up as well, now also being very close to him.

Wait wait wait whAT-

This... The doctor is now holding your back and you are VERY close to him, is... isn’t this a bit too... close? Or personal?? Is this even protocol??? Jesus christ he is ginormous and he’s holding you what the f-

“Why don’t wee take you 2 the Habittat? : - )” His puppet asked with his same cheerfulness.

Does this guy just have no concept of personal space?? You tried to rationalize to yourself that some people just don’t sometimes, as he didn’t seem to be aware of just how awkward this actually was, but this was a presumably professional doctor, and yet... there were so many aspects of his demeanor... tidbits of his personality and the way he spoke to you, this was probably not a stable man. There was something else about him too... now that you were very close to him, you could tell he had a strange scent that you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was, but it was a familiar type of smell, it takes you back, to maybe when you were a kid, playing too roughly in the school playground and then clumsily tripping over onto the concrete floor, how much it hurt, how much you cried, and how much you were covered in cuts and scrapes and-

“Welcom 2 the HABITAT! : - )”

You were so distracted by your own thoughts and how awkward you felt you didn’t even realize you walked past the gates of the Habitat with him, his left hand still gently holding your shoulders and back, his right still operating that puppet of his.

You looked around the courtyard, it... didn’t look much, but it seemed actually kind of nice, it had a relatively calming atmosphere, maybe thanks to it’s simplicity. You noticed a bunch of different posters and murals around on the walls, they were... definitely designed and drawn by Habit, but they were more cheesy than anything. In front of you were some extra more smaller gates, beyond them you could hear some distant machinery. There also seemed to be a random puddle in the middle of the courtyard, maybe it was there for... decoration?

Your observing was then interrupted by the sound of jangling keys to your right.

The puppet held and jingled some keys next to you, then leaning in closer to give you the keys and place them in your hand.

“These ar the keys to your apartiment, u’ll find it by walking up the staires.” Habit directed you, pointing with the puppet at a door to your right, still holding you with his left hand. “It is evening, so you betterr get some sleep naow, we hav a strict beddy-time, so don’t skip curfew, or else!”

You were then gently pushed forward to the door to the stairwell, the weight of Habit’s hand lifting from your shoulders, you were about to walk up the stairs on your own, when a question appeared in your mind about Habit’s strange wording.

“Wait... what do you mean ‘Or else?’“ you asked Habit.

But there was no answer.

You looked back, but the doctor was nowhere to be found

You blinked slowly, confused and bewildered. It was quick and there wasn’t even any sound to indicate that Habit was gonna leave or already left, he just... silently disappeared, how did he even...?

This... was incredibly strange, this self help doctor was not only just a very eccentric man, but there were so many qualities of him that should be red flags, that you should leave this place asap, but you remind yourself about how almost nowhere else has been able to help and that at least this place offers free housing, but you can’t help but think... how childish his tone was, how he owned a puppet of himself, how he had no concept of personal space, how oddly the shadows around him seemed to shift, how strange his scent was...

!!!

It was only when you were alone you realized what the doctor smelled like.

He smelled of copper.

And the place where he placed his hand on you felt oddly wet.

#my art #My writing #smile for me #smile for me game #boris habit #fanfiction #digital art #blood cw #horror #I was just gonna post the art and go but then I got carried away and wrote fanfiction as well #I hope it isn't too bad because I'm so shy with my writing and its like 5 30 am here oh god why #anyway happy halloween

36 notes · View notes

magsallen · 4 years ago

Photo

♪ Giving second chances I don't need all the answers Feeling good in my skin I just keep on dancin'

And if we're here long enough We'll see it's all for us And we'll belong

Maybe we can Find a place to feel good And we can treat people with kindness Find a place to feel good ♫

BASICS.

full name: margaret elizabeth allen

age + birthday: twenty-eight | 03/13/1992

gender + pronouns: cis female | she/her

sexual & romantic orientations: demisexual/panromantic

hometown: new orleans, la

occupation: art therapist

personality traits: empathetic, enthusiastic, optimistic, altruistic, sensitive, gullible, cautious, stubborn.

looks like: melissa benoist

FAMILY.

mother: kate allen

father.: chuck allen

siblings: lowell channing ( step brother, 32 )

other important relationships: majorie allen ( maternal grandmother )

pets: she has 2-3 foster pets at any given time and it takes everything in her not to adopt them all.

CHARACTER.

wester zodiac: pisces

chinese zodiac: monkey

primal sign: cheetah

hogwarts: hufflepuff, through and through.

one song: used to be mine - sara bareilles

one book: wicked - gregory mcguire

one movie: meet the robinsons

BIOGRAPHY.

tw: parental abandonment, anxiety

For as long as Maggie could remember, it had been her dad and her against the world. The gruesome twosome. Bonnie and Clyde. Collectors of take-out menus and mavens of Saturday morning Cartoons. Maggie knew she had a mother -- one who loved her very much despite never being around to tell her as much -- but apart from having her eyes and blinding smile, she knew very little else about her. Just that she left before Maggie learned to speak her first words and they’d lost track of her after that. And the look of sadness in her father’s eyes when she spoke of her, leaving crumbs and tidbits -- hints at stories, each of which Maggie collected like treasures -- left her feeling like she shouldn’t press. They were fine, just as they were.

It wasn’t until Chuck started dating that Maggie found herself asking questions she’d previously kept close to her heart -- what had happened to her mom, and if she loved her so much, why had she never been around? At just eight years old, her dad finally sat her down and laid it all down. How her mom had packed up her things and left Maggie with a sitter. How she’d moved her life across the country to get a fresh start. How he’d wanted to follow, but put Maggie first. How she loved them very much but wasn’t fit to be a mother. But she knew they were in New Orleans, and he would always welcome them back into their lives if she was ready, but that he needed to move on. After that, Maggie’s whole world shifted. The smile she’d once admired saw differently on her lips. Those big blue eyes haunting her in the mirror because they were hers. She couldn’t help but wonder what other parts of herself belonged to her mother, and who she might one day hurt because of them. The thoughts consumed her, but her dad had enough on his plate and Maggie worried she’d only stack it too full so she learned to bottle them up. Putting all her fears and anxieties in neatly packed boxes to be dealt with later.

It was six months of helping her dad get dressed for first dates that went nowhere and awkward meetings with women who had little interest in being stepmothers, but when Chuck met Birdie, Maggie’s world would shift again. At first, Maggie was wary but quickly noticed the differences quickly. Her dad was walking taller. When he talked about Birdie, his voice softened and his smile lit up the room and by the time they went on their first date as a family, Maggie knew it was for keeps. Birdie and Lowell felt safe, like home. Maggie didn’t have to worry about her dad’s heart anymore, because it fit perfectly in Birdie’s hands. Their fridge was full of fresh produce instead of plastic containers and she watched Saturday morning cartoons with her new brother, her life felt settled.

Until it was uprooted and moved to a coastal town in Maine for a job. The first few months in Somerton were miserable for Maggie. While she’d always had such an easy time making friends at her old school, she had trouble connecting with her new peers making adjusting to her new life even more difficult. Lunch was eaten in the bathroom alone, books read on the playground, and in the classroom, she kept to herself. But it didn’t take her cool older brother long to notice, and just as quickly as she’d lost her footing, she found it again and by the time she was ready to graduate middle school she had curated a small group of true friends.

High school would be the start of a whole new era, for Maggie. Walking the halls with a solid support group gave the previously shy girl the confidence to put herself out there. Dive in headfirst and explore interests she’d been too timid to pursue in the past. Maggie took drama, auditioned for show choir, learned to play the ukulele (and later guitar), even joined the debate for a minute or two. But it was building sets for the school production of Fiddler on the Roof, that she found her true passion in art. There was a sense of calm in hours spent building props and painting backdrops. Zen. Something clicked. For the second time in her life, Maggie knew what it felt like to be at home. Once she started, she couldn’t stop. Maggie became a collector of notebooks, filling pages with watercolored scenes and charcoaled faces and poetry. She didn’t know it yet, but all that art journalling was helping her work through some things she’d long since pushed away deep in her subconscious. Relationships strengthened, grades were at an all-time high and by the time she was ready to leave the halls of Bursted Park High, she felt ready to take on the world.

Family-oriented and frugal, Maggie lived at home all through her degree at Somerton University (go seahorses!), where she studied visual arts with a minor in creative writing. But when it came time for graduation, she had no idea what to do next. So much of the last four years of her life had been spent finding herself in friendships and romantic endeavours, bolstering the people around her with a seemingly unending supply of optimism and enthusiasm. But apart from a good relationship with some local galleries, she had no real path into the real world.

She spent the first three months after graduation wallowing on her parents' couch, watching far too much television to distract from the very real anxieties she felt. Had she just wasted the last four years of her life? What if she never amounted to anything. But Maggie knew a person could only sit still for so long feeling sorry for themselves before they had to pick themselves up and do something about it, and so she did just that. She started looking for work around town, jobs to keep her busy during the interim. As always, it would be her family who guided her where she needed to be. After all, she came from a family of helpers, it seemed only fitting she join the family profession. Within a year she doing her master’s in art therapy out of state, but the pull of family would always lead her back to Somerton. As much as a desire to enrich the community that helped raise her.

These days Maggie primarily works with children in foster care as well as those stuck in the hospital, helping them work through the trauma of their unique situations and giving them tools to work through whatever cards life has dealt them. In her spare time, Maggie can be found hogging the mic on karaoke nights, attempting to beat every escape room in Maine, and fostering senior cats and dogs from the local ASPCA.

#somertonintro

3 notes · View notes

atamascolily · 5 years ago

Text

lily liveblogs “terminator: dark fate,” part five

HEY, time for our industrial end sequence!! This time, it’s on a dam because we had fire and machinery in previous films, and we’re switching to a different element.

(this means that the next film would have ended with a FOREST fight scene, right? Right.)

[parts one, two, three, four]

The NPCs run for cover. I have no idea what dam this is supposed to be! It looks like Hoover, but I honestly have no clue where they are at this point.

Carl and the chassis are fighting in the water. Then the oozy metal part comes up and grabs him from behind! I hate it when they double-team like that.

Wow, they just barely keep from going over the edge there. Oh, wait, too soon...

Sarah dislocates her shoulder. Ow. Grace pops it back in. Sarah gets another "Fuck!"

The Rev-9 vaulting out of the water is just like in the beginning....

"No, no, Grace, really...?" YES GRACE. She yells back at them to wear their seatbelts!!! WOW... Sarah snarks back at her because what good is it if you can’t get a one-liner in right before you go over the edge into the abyss and certain death?

OH my god the Rev-9 on the windshield is so fucking scary right there they are UNDERWATER in the DARK aaaaaaaaah.

Okay, I'm not sure how if they would have survived that in real life, but fuck if that underwater fight scene isn't as cool as hell.

A legit complaint I've seen is that the bulletproof vests would weigh them down too much to get to the surface with the air they have, but... I mean come on, if that's your only factual complaint about this movie, I think they did a good job.

Cut to them on top of the dam again, wow that was fast. This scene with the three badass women battered and bruised and clinging to each other.. MY HEART. MY POOR HEART!!

Ah, here it is... Grace's power source! The EMP substitute I’ve been waiting for. Then Carl shows back up.. with a weapon for Sarah. Triumphant theme music. The whole family is here. Oh, and meds for Grace. YAY. wouldn’t want to pass out halfway through the climactic fight scene.

Wow, this functionally dysfunctional found-family is only together for like half a day and I need a million TV episodes about them STAT.

Oh, of course it's a hydroelectric dam...so generators!

Oh, hey, Grace gets her chains from the poster! Nice.

Murderbot bonding time! The Rev-9 talks to Carl: "You and I were built for the same purpose. And Legion is the only future." SO MANY FEELS ABOUT THIS.

"I know she's a stranger to you. Why not let me have her?" POLITICAL QUESTION OF THE MOMENT, KTHANX. But also proof that even though the REv-9 is good at mimicking humans and predicting humans, it still doesn't UNDERSTAND humans.

"Because we're not machines, you metal motherfucker," Sarah snarls. And I think we're up to six fucks for Sarah at this point? I've lost count.

Have I mentioned that the splitting Terminators are creepy? Have I? HAVE I? Because they are.

Oh, dear, Sarah Connor confronting her nightmare of flaming death murder skeletons again.

Geeeeee, I wonder if that turbine will do anything...

Oh, Grace is stabbed, I guess she's gonna pull the power source out and take him down with her... or not. But at least now Dani’s going to object way less about self-sacrifice, since she’s already doomed.

I don't know why the REV-9 goes back to one; I feel like he's stronger and fights better in two parts? But you do you, I guess.

Pretty sure it's not over yet because Dani still hasn't done anything against the REV-9 herself. Oh, good, and Sarah gets to relive yet another nightmare of a metal skeleton stalking out of the flames. ONLY THIS TIME IT'S ON FIRE, TOO. (I guess that's the polyalloy bits melting away??)

Yep, Grace is gonna sacrifice herself to save Dani from the REV-9 and remove her power source. Oh, wow, Dani has to stab her and pull it out herself. That's gonna cause some more trauma. Another round for everyone!

Dani gets to go after the REV-9... but it goes badly, because drama. Sarah yells for Carl to wake up, and it works!! He distracts the REV-9 long enough for Dani to stab him in the eye with the power source and... I guess that sets it off???

[why the hell didn't they augment Grace with more than one of those things? Maybe Dani will fix that in the future when she gets there. maybe that's something to add in fix-it fics. And where did they get them? Did they take them from destroyed Terminators and weld them into humans?? What happened?? ]

Carl and the REV-9 fall into the abyss together, because OF COURSE THEY DO, because just when Sarah has learned to forgive/accept Carl as he is, she has to lose him because RULE #1: SARAH CONNOR MUST ALWAYS SUFFER. And the REV-9 rips his flesh off and they both die when the EMP goes off, and it mimics the lightning flash in the beginning.

Oh, so yet again, Sarah Connor has to stand and watch a Terminator she cares about die in a fire. GOOD JOB PACKING ON THE ANGST, PEOPLE.

"For John." OH MY GOD, WAY TO GO OUT IN STYLE AND ALSO MY HEART.

The difference between this and the first film is that Sarah isn't alone at the end. The difference between this and the second film is that Sarah and Dani are... not equals, exactly, but they are more equal than Sarah and John were at the end of T2. They're veteran and leader, not mother and son. Dani and Sarah understand each other in a way that no one--not even John--can because of what they've suffered and lost. The cycle repeats, and yet it’s subtly different each time

cut to Grace as a kid on a playground, oh now there's some loaded symbolism in this francise, lol. And there's Dani looking through the chain-link fence at her right on cue, like Sarah looking at her might-have-been kids in T2. Is this where the filmmakers got the idea that Dani is Grace’s “mother”? LOL, nice try, guys.

She walks over to the car where Sarah is waiting for her. It's a Jeep, just like the one she drove to Mexico in at the end of T1. She tosses Dani the keys and moves over to the passenger seat AND IF THAT AIN'T A STATEMENT, I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS.

"I won't let her die for me again," Dani says. "then you need to be ready."

Dani puts the car in gear and they drive away down the eucalptyus-lined streets of the California suburbs where everything is green and tranquil and beautiful, and while the movie ends perfectly here as is, I can also see how they would have linked it into a trilogy like they'd originally planned. But alas, this is probably the end until the all-but-inevitable next reboot.

And THEN the credits roll, and we get the main theme at the end, and I jut have to say, it's not the same as in the other movies, where we had to listen to the whole thing first THEN we heard it in the film itself. But nobody has the goddamn patience for credits anymore, which is why Marvel started sticking bonus scenes in theirs to keep people in their seats.

...but wow are these credits long. Oh, well, the music's good and I learn random tidbits this way, like how the writers have little imagination when it comes to naming minor characters, and just give them the same name as their actors (Diego, Gabriel, Alicia, etc).

sadly, all the deleted scenes and bonus content is on the blue-ray and not the DVD sigh.

So. Was this a perfect film? No. It was written by committee, and I think it shows. Did it deliver what I hoped for--Sarah Connor being a badass, snarky dialogue, and cool action sequences? Yes. Did I enjoy watching it? HELL YES. Will I be thinking/ranting about it for a long time. YOU BET.

Was it "necessary"? Of course not-but is ANY piece of art ever really "necessary"? Who cares! It was fun, and it was thoughtful, it was interesting to me, and it was wayyy better than most of the recent rounds of sequels and reboots.

And to be honest, if they can make a bajillion Fast and Furious movies, and James Bond, and John Wick, and Mission Impossible and Karate Kid action flicks featuring men (not to mention Star Wars and remakes of every single animated Disney film AND a three-part Hobbit movie trilogy), I think I can enjoy a female-led action movie with zero guilt whatsoever without having to justify its existence to anyone.

(I can’t think of a single other action film with three badass female leads, who have complete character arcs and aren’t sexualized for the male gaze... and if there is, I want to watch it STAT)

#terminator #terminator: dark fate

7 notes · View notes

trueslove · 5 years ago

Text

✧･ﾟ: * ( park jiwon , cis female , she / her ) have you seen violet hwang around ? i hear the twenty-one year old is working as an art director . did you know they have 97 love alarm points ? if they ever want to be truly loved someday they should ease up on being temperamental & enigmatic . at least you can say they’re disarming & convivial, too. / love alarm blocked

hello ! im xan and ur watching d*sney channel ... just kidding we do NOT support big corporations who just wanna take ur money 😔 im 22 , from the est timezone ( even though my sleeping schedule ... does not reflect that sjbdwjkbdjdw ) & i go by she / her pronouns ! im gonna be honest this intro is gonna be completely winged so buckle up .... and meet violet 😋

━ ˙ ˖ ☆ quick stats + aesthetics !

full name: violet hwang.

nickname(s): vee, vivi.

zodiac: tba....

sexuality: bisexual.

birthplace: manhattan, new york.

current residence: toronto, canada.

aesthetics: maraschino cherries at the bottom of a glass, driving with the windows down at night, unanswered text messages, black nail polish, the sound of rain hitting the windowpane, kissing and not telling, smiles that don’t quite reach the eyes.

━ ˙ ˖ ☆ backstory !

was born and raised in nyc baby ! she’s a true city girl, grew up in lower manhattan ( the financial district if u wanna get specific ) to a family with lots of $$$$ thanks to her father’s position as a ceo of an investment bank located on wall street

life was pretty smooth until she was 17 and her father got arrested for embezzlement and fraud </3 it was actually a huge scandal for the investment bank he worked for because it was a whole group of higher ups who had been in on these crimes. basically a bunch of already rich men trying to get richer ... disgusting ik /:

her life changed pretty drastically after that ! the hwang name was all over the news, their family was pretty much disgraced by high society in nyc, not a very fun time for anyone but especially not for violet’s mom

after her dad got arrested violet was uhh high key furious with him for ruining their lives with his greed and she wanted nothing to do with him, but her mom couldnt let go. she was still defending him, spending the money they had left on lawyers which included the money the family had set aside for violet’s trust fund that she would have had access to once she was 18 </3

so her plans for college changed pretty drastically JSDBJWBDJW ( goodbye ivy league education ) she actually ended up getting into the university of toronto for visual studies on an academic scholarship

so she made the big move all on her own....moved into a tiny dorm...and vowed to reinvent herself. she didnt wanna be labeled as the daughter of a white collar criminal anymore so she just made it a point not to talk to much abt her past to anyone

her struggles as someone who grew up with $$$$ turning into a broke college student made for some embarrassing but funny moments <3 luckily though everyone else had their own struggles so no one found it suspicious JSBDJWBDJ

when love alarm launched three years ago, violet had just started college so it was really the Big thing anyone and everyone was talking about. since she’d never been a fan of other dating apps, she wasn’t gonna download it but her roommate at the time convinced her ! at first it was fun, just something she didnt take too seriously

fast forward to graduation and she’s snagged a job as an art director for a little local museum, doing freelance art directing on the side to help pay the bills. low and behold one day a photographer hires her to be the art director to a shoot they’re doing for a badge club member who was in a very high profile and public relationship at the time

violet ended up working with that photographer and badge club member a handful of times, enough for her to catch fee-🤢 catch feelin-🤢 i cant even say it .. she’d never rung anyone’s love alarm before, so of course her first time had to be with someone who was already taken </3 safe to say she ... freaked out

she was embarrassed above all else, but also heartbroken bc in her head like ... why would someone who literally is part of an exclusive club based on ppl ringing their love alarm care that she rung theirs ? she didnt think it’d be a big deal to them the way it was to her ( but also didn’t stick around long enough to find out jsxbsjbdjw )

when she was offered the block she didn’t hesitate to use it figuring it’s better if no one knows her romantic feelings ever again like that /: she’d delete the app but a part of her still likes knowing there are ppl out there who DO like her like that so ... Rip truly

━ ˙ ˖ ☆ personality + tidbits !

she comes across as ... kind of a bitch SDJBJWBJWBDW it’s truly not on purpose she just has a pretty serious resting expression most of the time ( so she looks mad or annoyed even when she isn’t ) and she’s pretty difficult to get to know ? not to mention the fact that no one has ever witnessed her ring someone’s love alarm .. so all that combined just makes it easy to assume she’s some sort of ice queen when that’s far from the truth /:

violet really isn’t one to open up too deep to people, but that’s got a lot to do with the past she’s kind of running away from ! so if you’re her friend most of the stuff you know about her is probably surface stuff, but when she’s close to someone she can make that fact hard to realize ? she just has a way with making the people in her life feel important so it’s easy not to be focused on how much you know about her

never bothers to correct the people that misjudge her. if you don’t like her, if you want to make up assumptions and rumors about her, go ahead like violet really won’t stop you which can sometimes make meeting new people difficult </3 if you’ve seen the dating class webdrama chuu was in she’s kinda like oh seyoung’s chara joowon 🤧

if she wants to, though, she’s pretty good at getting people to like her / trust her ! she does this a lot in professional situations, which is why she’s been doing so well as an art director so far despite being so young

she’s also very loyal to her friends ! if you can’t ask for extra sauces at mcdonald’s....if you can’t make a phone call to your credit card company explaining that a $3,000 charge to starbucks wasn’t you.....she’s your girl <3 since she’s relatively not bothered by the way people see her ( unless it has to do with her past ) she’s usually the one speaking up if someone she cares about can’t

after the ... incident ... JSDBWJDBWJ she’s really not a fan of the badge club and everything it stands for ): BUT she continues to do art directing work for a lot of the members when they do photoshoots, or instagram campaigns, or if they have a pop up shop, etc. it’s good money and she needs every penny considering she’s living without support from her family

cannot cook to save her life so she’s always eating out .. this really is why she’s taking those more high profile jobs she can’t budget .. but it’s better, safety wise at least, that she continues wasting her money on takeout aha <3

pretends she’s not a romantic and is all about the ~casual flings~ but really she’s just afraid of serious feelings and the idea of a serious relationship ... it’s the trauma 😔 constantly jokes shes gonna bring the tinder whore era back JWDBWJBDJW she is sick of this true love nonsense ! ( the irony of this url ahaha... )

she’s the most social after a few drinks, since drunk her isn’t burdened by a mind that overthinks literally everything the way she is sober. if you don’t supervise her though she can get pretty carried away and probably get into some kind of trouble so she’s definitely not the person you want to be in charge on a night out !

really wants a dog but doesn’t think she’s cut out to be a pet parent it feels just as scary as the idea of having an actual kid so ... BDWBDJW if you have a pet ? she’s gonna be living vicariously through you <3

━ ˙ ˖ ☆ wanted connections !

the photographer that hired her / introduced her to the badge club member she ended up having feelings for

the badge club remember she had / has feelings for because we love suffering 😈

old roommates from college !! maybe even the one that got her to download love alarm in the first place hehehe

also a current roommate / roommates because your girl can’t afford to live on her own <3

someone she’s confided in about her past ( maybe they judged her for it and had a falling out, or maybe they remain confidants )

an ex bf or gf she dated while she was in school ! she never rang their love alarm ( even though this was pre block ) so maybe that’s why things ended between them. or maybe they never rang each others and it was just a mutual thing where they both didn’t really have feelings for each other and tried to date anyway and it didn’t work. or perhaps they dated and when violet realized she was starting to have those feelings she dipped before she ever got a chance to ring their love alarm bc she didn’t want to be exposed like that and commitment is scary ):

spare best friend ? i’d use a knife emoji to show you how serious i am but i dont wanna scare anyone away aha .. i would just love a best friend plot 🥺

current flings / hookups or past flings / hookups ! i imagine most of them to not be serious but it would be kinda cool if there was someone she’s seeing now that she’s got the love alarm block that she’s actually falling for considering she’s never gonna be able to ring their love alarm hehehehe

people she art directs for !! i imagine she’s got a pretty long list of employers ( from badge club members to regular folk 🤧 ) so it would be cool to have people who hire her for stuff, or who collaborate with her for artistic endeavors since i’ve noticed we have a lot of artsy muses <3

ummm maybe an enemy. but where it’s like .. the hate isn’t even that deep it’s just like oh you dislike me ? well i dislike you FIRST 😠 and they insult each other and try and sabotage each other like five year olds fighting on the playground like it seems super serious to them but to everyone watching it’s like ... can you guys just get over it you dumb babies KSDBSDBWD like they could probably be good friends if they just .. stopped

and you’ve reached the end of this NOVEL of an intro post JDBJWBDJWBDW im literally so sorry i tried not to ramble but ..... its just who i am </3 please come shoot me a message to plot !!! you can use tumblr ims but im way more available / quicker to respond on discord so if u wanna add me there and plot u can find me at junhee mr. soft hands ʕ´• ᴥ•̥`ʔ#8172 i also did not check this post for typos so if u find one ... mind ur business 😭😭😭

#╰ ♡ . 𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒅𝒖𝒎𝒃 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒔𝒔 ── ooc ! ┘#lovealarm.intro #HELPSDBWJD finally i finished.....im so sorry in advance this is . so long #also im going out in like 2 hours to eat so if im slow to respond to messages tonight u know whats going on <33333

7 notes · View notes

utt-archived · 5 years ago

Text

@badmusesdoitwell said: "Ororo... I need to talk with you." The girl is holding a little plastic stick with a plus sign on it, which she purchased from a prank site. (Prank by Becka)

April 1st shenanigans / accepting

"One moment, sweetheart..." Kneeling in thick, soft grass of her garden, the happiest of Ororo's places not surrounded by clouds she'd been awash in sunlight and serenity when the young women steeped outside. "There, now that the weeds are gone new life can-"

That sense of peace started to crack slowly yet oh so sharply when azure eyes looked past a shoulder and landed on the stick in Becka's hands.

"Oh... when did you- I mean, I wasn't aware you were seeing anyone-" Not that she was owed every tidbit of her life Ororo just couldn't stop herself from sputtering when considering being one of the youngest grandmothers on the playground. "I'm sorry, how are you, should we go inside and sit down?"

#badmusesdoitwell #(ha! well i'm amused #fake pregnancy #pregnancy #ty for this <3

2 notes · View notes

masaru2042 · 6 years ago

Text

Hippity Hoppity, Stay off Railway Property!

Told as an r/entitledparents style parody. What the engines really do have to deal with when it comes to entitled passengers.

So, I’m Dana. I’m a driver of a sapient steam engine on a particular island that was made famous by a preacher writing a bunch of children’s books. I’m the driver of the NWR #4 who pulls the Wild Norwester, aka the Express, a 4-6-2 Gresley A1/A3 Pacific known as Gordon. Just a little background for those of you who don’t know who that is. Gordon was the prototype for the A1 Pacifics designed by Nigel Gresley in 1922. The only other A1 Pacific built in Doncaster by Nigel Gresley is Gordon’s younger brother Scott Gresley, aka the Flying Scotsman. The reason why Gordon is now an A1/A3 is due to a rebuilt restoring him to his original shape as ordered from Doncaster, removing his straight Sudrian, white frame, and providing him with a Kylchap double exhaust to optimize fuel and water efficiency. He also was outfitted with corridor tenders and his Sudrian frame and Fowler tender are now on display at the Sodor Railway Museum in Vicarstown.

And me? Well, I’m a transplant from Tennessee if anyone wonders why I’m not spelling in the English style, or using British slang. Or BR and NWR terminology. And Gordon’s fireman is a funny guy named Josh with an equally funny boyfriend named Brian. They both act like my big brothers. And Gordon tends to act like my no-nonsense grandpa...among other things. But we won’t get into those.

And just in case some of you still haven’t caught on. Yes, he’s that big huge jerk from the Thomas and Friends show with the models.

Well, during the summer months, we get a lot of vacationers (holiday goers for you in the UK), and yes, lots of tourists. Thanks to those books and the show, people do come from all over the world to actually see what the real engines are like. And a lot of time, there’s a lot of dissonance from the fans who are expecting the engines to act like they do on the show. They don’t. None of them do. Henry isn’t a hypochondriac that complains about every little thing he’s feeling sick over, he’s in fact a very calculating, and intelligent person who pretty much knows secrets about everyone...even me when I had first come to Sodor! Seriously, he’s really creepy! Especially when he’s asking questions in a way to phish for information. If Henry had a computer and actual hands, I have a feeling he might try to get into every government server on the planet just to see what personal secrets he could find. Henry should be working with INTERPOL not the Northwestern Railway.

Thomas is very mellow thanks to his age, Percy actually can’t stand it when people think he’s a kid when in reality he’s older than Edward! And he acts like it too. The only one the show actually got accurate was James. Yes, James is very full of himself. Not as much as he is in the show, but he loves puffing around like he’s the king. And Edward is pretty much a down to Earth guy. And Emily acts like that older neighbor your mom knows who’s been around the world and back again and loves asking about your sign. Yeah, that older neighbor. The one with the bead necklace, the incense, and flowers in her hair. I swear to God, she’s been to San Francisco. Interesting little tidbit, Emily is the original Flying Scotsman! No joke!

Well, it was a rather steamy and hot, summer day on the Island of Sodor, and yes I know what that sounds like!

We weren’t pulling the Express at this moment, we were actually just doing a tour excursion. This is normal, it allows the tourists to ride the engines belonging to the “Steam Team” as the kiddies call it. Something the engines belonging to this “Team” roll their eyes about the label. And not in the comical way the models did. The “uh-huh, whatever” kind of eye roll, and just chuff on by, not really caring.

So, it was our turn to take the train around, letting the tourists feel what it’s like to ride one of the fastest non-streamlined steam engines in the world. And the one who actually did win the Great Race, even if he nearly killed himself doing so...beating out a diesel-electric and breaking his safety valve in the process. This is something Gordon doesn’t like talking about, despite setting a world record in the process. But still, we did give the guests a proper ride.

Best way to describe Gordon gliding down the rails. He’s basically like an antique expensive roadster. You can tell the moment you tap your foot on the gas that he’s gonna floor it and show you what speed really feels like. Not your grandma’s station wagon, I’ll tell you that! Gordon, much like all the other engines, is always kept up to specs. He pretty much runs as good as the day he popped out of the factory. You wouldn’t have guessed that he’s nearing 100 years old. Unlike his brother who is feeling his age no matter how many rebuilds he’s had. If you haven’t come out of the coaches noticing your body made a dent on the seat, Gordon feels like he hasn’t done his job in making you feel his speed.

That is the power of a Gresley Race Horse.

We were cruising around, well...the train equivalent...and given that Gordon has two corridor tenders now, we could cruise for a long while. Though we did have to stop a few times just for the passengers to get out take pictures of the scenery, that sort of thing. Only this particular excursion was allowed to stop on the line. Gordon was of course outfitted with special lamps to show that we had such permission to stop and were given proper notifications from our conductor of when it was safe to stop. And when we stopped the guests were ordered to either stay in the coaches, or stay back from the train and rails themselves for safety reasons.

No standing on railway property, basically.

No standing in front of the engine on the rails.

Do not get in the way of workmen and crewmen maintaining the engine.

We were making sure that folks understood this.

If they got off for pictures, they were only allowed to be on the grass. And only when they were ready to return to their coaches were they allowed to approach the train again.

Any questions they had, they could ask any of the service personnel and attendants.

And we all had radios.

We stopped, pulled over onto a siding. And just in case he needed it since there was a lot of stopping and starting and that’s when he uses a lot more water than when he’s running, we stopped on a siding near a water tower. Josh was filling up Gordon’s canteen and I turned on that little electric fan I clipped on above my station. It ran off of Gordon’s dynamo too, and I was grateful for it.

I grabbed a cold bottled water from the cooler we had stashed near the main tender and pressed it to my forehead. Already I could hear some of the kids asking “why doesn’t Gordon produce smoke from his funnel?” or “why does he smell like fish and chips?” And well, that made me laugh. A few months ago, Sir Topham Hatt converted Gordon into a waste vegetable oil burner. So, that explains the fried food smell. Honestly, it was a good thing because it often made the passengers even more hungry, which means they’d buy more food off the food cart in the Express. Josh liked it too, he didn’t have to shovel coal anymore, just playground sand with a tiny, toy shovel into a little opening in the firebox to help keep the fire tubes from getting clogged from the oil being atomized. And Gordon liked how much cleaner he ran.

I heard a few oldtimers snort about how that’s not a real steam engine anymore because of the oil burning rather than coal and then hear Gordon personally retort back: “You better tell Duck that, then! The GWR went to oil in the 1940s due to coal shortages! And don’t get me started about the poor caloric contents of today’s coal. The wasted veggie oil actually is better for me. Even Welsh coal is barely usable now. No wonder the BR switched to diesel the way it did.”

And that’s why Gordon’s a WVO burner, folks! And if any of you are wondering, yes! He can run off of diesel fuel if he has to. Which he did once, and no, unlike in the show, the real Gordon doesn’t bitch about the smell or look down upon diesel locomotives.

Well, enter our entitled family.

I wasn’t the one who first spotted this family doing something they were instructed not to do by the attendants in the coaches. That was Josh. Gordon, on the other hand, was concentrating on what the maintenance workers were doing. Tightening a lug nut, checking the mechanical lubrication injector, the lubricant levels, his exhaust steam injectors. Clearing any debris out of the way, checking the fuel levels on the coaches. Yeah, the coaches are diesel powered now. Hatt went all out! Servers were handing out drinks to the workers and the passengers.

I heard Josh call out: “Oi! You can’t stand on that! Step away from the track!”

The mother said: “We’re trying to take a group photo!”

I felt the cab tilt to the right just slightly. Gordon’s attention was now on the family as well.

Josh: “I said, you can’t stand in the middle of the track. Get back on the grass!”

I went to the fireman’s side of the cab, stuck my head out the window to see a very plump family, a rather large man, his equally large wife, and their cherry-red faced, plump kid in a horizontal striped T-shirt. I also could see the patches of sweat under their armpits. They were sweating more than I did just by stepping out of their coaches.

Then, Gordon spoke up with that big, booming, baritone voice of his. Seriously, he should moonlight as a radio host, he’s got the timbre for it!

“You heard what my fireman said, stay off the rails! It’s for your safety.”

Well, I hopped out the door from the cab and wiped my hands on my jeans.

The family wasn’t willing to listen to Gordon, no matter how commanding he made his voice sound. The father was standing on the grass with his smartphone out, taking a picture of the boy and his mother standing in between the railroad ties. He was angled in such a way to include Gordon in the picture.

“You should smile!” said the entitled father.

Gordon growled and just sneered. He wasn’t having any of it. And if I hadn’t set the main brake, he’d probably jut forth just to scare the entitled mother and entitled brat off the track as a lesson. I could hear a clacking sound, though, Gordon was flexing his friction brakes against his wheels, his way of tensing his muscles in his frustration. His jaw was set, his teeth clenched, and his brow furrowed.

“Hey!” I called. “What the hell do you think y’all doin’? Get off the track!”

I don’t think they liked my east Tennessean accent because the mother just turned and looked at me with disgust. Like she was looking down at some dirty farmhand.

I guess Gordon saw that face too, because the moment she made it, I heard a low groan from his wheels. He sounded like he was trying to fight against the brake keeping him motionless. The moment we met, he’s been rather overprotective of me. It’s cute. I could always count on him to have my back. There was an expulsion of steam from the sides of his cylinders. And he was rearing to open up his cock valves wide just to give them a good blast of hot vapor.

But the mother stood firm.

“We’re trying to get a photo! Now go back to your food cart, little missy!”

“Release the brake,” Gordon whispered, tilting towards me.

“No,” I said.

“I’ll run them over.”

“No you won’t.”

“They’ll be a bloody smear on my buffers.”

And they would once he started off. Gordon had a lot of torque in him, he could start off in a burst like a motorcycle if he wanted. And the last thing anyone wanted was 200 tons of locomotive racing for them.

“It’s not worth it.”

“How dare that harpy talk to you in such a manner, Dana!”

“It’s fine, sugar,” I said, laying my hand on a buffer. “Just breathe.”

He said aloud: “That’s my driver! She’s not a serving girl!”

I heard the father laugh: “Girls can’t be drivers.”

I get that a lot!

And the clacking sound returned.

“You’ll ruin your pads doing that,” I told Gordon.

“And I’ll need to be looked over for hypertension,” he said. “Because I can feel the pain in the back of my smokebox already. This woman…and her oaf of a husband...”

“Just breathe...in and out, Gordon.”

He took a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. It wasn’t helping, though, as I could still hear the clacking of his brakes.

Josh had jumped down from the canteen and walked over.

“You heard what they said, off the rails, please.”

They actually listened to Josh. I tend to get that a lot. They don’t want to listen to me because they think I’m some food cart lady, despite not being dressed like one, but Josh...he looked like he belonged where he was. So, he had a more air of authority than I did. I guess it was my accent and how I try to put on that Southern sweet tea charm, you know. So, they don’t take me seriously.

I’m a redneck to them, that’s all they care about.

Obviously, they were done taking pictures.

Then, the kid turned and darted for the switch.

Points on the rails are set by switches that are either manually moved into positioned, or automatically moved into position, or done so from a signalman’s box. Here, considering the remote location of this particular siding, the point had to be set by the conductor with a lever at the side of the railroad track after the conductor got the OK from RMC (Railway Mission Control) that the track was clear for Gordon to proceed. Though this siding was on the mainline, it was quite a ways from a signalman’s box, so that’s why it had to be switched by hand from the conductor.

And yes, I realize they’re called Guards in the UK and Sodor. But I did say I’m from the US...so...conductor. And Gordon loves correcting my terminology.

Well, that kid bolted for the switch, and started messing around with it.

Gordon, me, and Josh all lurched forward.

“Step away from that, kid!” I shouted.

“Don’t touch that!” bellowed Gordon.

“What are you doing?!” Josh shouted.

The point was set so that any train needing to pass this siding could. But the boy grunted and turned the point, setting the switch to the siding. This would allow Gordon to exit the siding back onto the mainline. And that was a bad! This meant any train coming through would derail from the track being set improperly.

“NO!” all three of us cried.

I darted forth and tossed the kid from the lever. Considering I worked with steam engines for a good portion of my life, I was pretty muscular and toned. And I could toss around guys bigger than me with ease. The kid hit the ballast and obviously skinned his elbow. But I wasn’t worried about that. My concern was the switch.

Whatever train would be passing by, could very well be derailed!

Who cares about a little brat and his skinned elbow? But the EM was furious.

“How dare you assault my baby!”

Baby? That lard of a kid looked like he was 8 years old!

And Gordon was cross. (Because of course I had to put that there.)

“Baby?” he asked. “Your little piglet just very well might cause a terrible accident!”

There was vitriol dripping from his words.

“He’s only playing!” called the mother. “Let him play! He’s not hurting anyone. He’s a good boy.”

“Get that crotch goblin away from the switch!” Gordon bellowed out. “Wesley!”

Crotch Goblin. God I love you, Gordon, I thought.

Wesley was our conductor. And he was a bit of a pushover especially with how Gordon boxed the poor kid’s ears with that voice of his. Wesley was kinda new to the job and most of the times he was regulated to excursion duties. Rarely did he ever serve on the Express due to his inexperience.

I could see him fiddling with his whistle, trying to straighten his hat. He was a mess. All the while, I was jerking back and forth trying to get the switch unstuck and set back correctly. These switches sometimes got stuck because of the heat.

“Y-yes, sir, Mr. Gresley,” said Wesley.

Just a little fact that many of y’all don’t know. You think we’re the ones in charge here? The show seems to make you think that, don’t it? Nope. The engines are. Especially engines with seniority like Gordon. And he made sure everyone on his team knew it. And again, the kid’s a pushover.

“Go help Dana with the switch!” Gordon barked.

The boy was already bawling like it was the end of the world. And entitled mother was leaning down to comfort him. The noise was enough to attract the other passengers to the commotion.

“What happened?” asked Wesley.

“Kid pulled the lever,” said Josh.

“She assaulted my baby!” said the entitled mother.

“I should have you all fired!” the entitled dad shouted. “And that metal monstrosity scrapped.”

“I beg your pardon!” Gordon rounded. “Don’t spit indignation at me, sir! Your piglet has endangered lives. Wesley, is there a train coming?”

“The Express, Mr. Gresley.”

“Damn…” Gordon seemed to deflate and the color left his cheeks at the sound of a familiar, high-pitched whistle. “Henry’s coming! This is the Flying Kipper all over again. Hurry!”

Oh, god...I heard the stories of Henry’s crash. Of course I knew of it from the books, and from the show. But the real story was much more gruesome. Awdry may have said that his driver and fireman survived for the sake of the kids, but that was far from the truth. They were dead, both of them. The driver’s head was bashed into to Henry’s controls, thrown from his seat. Henry’s pipes were covered in his driver’s blood. The fireman died moments later, crushed ribs and internal bleeding from the impact. And Henry was lucky to have survived at all to be rebuilt into a Stanier Black 5. He was a changed “man” after that. Much sterner than when he arrived on the island.

“Sir,” I shouted. “You’re about to force an engine who just lived through a horrible wreck involving a point set wrong to relive that nightmare again. And endangering everyone he’s currently pulling in his coaches. When this is over, I’m making sure Hatt kicks you and your family of pork rinds off the NWR. Have fun takin’ the bus for now on! Or walkin’. Y’all look like you need a good exercise anyhoo.”

The bus on this island was terrible. Just a little FYI.

Already, Wesley was radioing the conductor on the Express, hoping to get Henry to slow down before he derailed. The whistle was even louder.

Josh and I were pulling the lever as hard as we could. A creak, and at last the lever budged. The point reset to allow Henry to pass through safely. A final whistle and the green NWR #3 came speeding on passed Gordon with the Wild Nor’wester. I collapsed upon my butt and gasped, sweat stinging my eyes. Josh did the same, patting me on the back.

“You all right?” he asked.

“I will be,” I said.

The conductor still held onto the entitled father and entitled mother, and they held onto their sniveling kid. While he was holding onto his elbow.

“Wesley,” I said, looking up at the conductor. “Escort those three to the brake coach and keep an eye on them. The first station we’re stopping at, I want them off the train and in the station master’s office.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “This way, please.”

“I should have your job!” the entitled father called.

“Get the first aid kit, and wipe the little porker’s booboo,” I said. I slowly rose to my shaking feet. “I should leave y’all right here! Have you hoof it to the next station. Maybe if I’m lucky, y’all be arrested by our security guards for trespassin’ on railroad property!”

“Leave them here,” said Gordon. “Especially for that sodding ‘scrapped’ remark!”

I really didn’t give two shits about Gordon’s language here.

So many of Gordon’s brothers had been scrapped thanks to the modernization of the British Railways. So, of course he would take that insult quite personally.

“You hear that?” I continued. “Gordon wants to leave you stranded. And I’m inclined to agree with him. But I’m not petty like y’all are.” I turned to him. “No. Follow the rules, Gordon. As much as we hate it. Turn them into the station master and they’ll be banned from riding any of our coaches again.”

“I suppose that shall suffice,” he said. It didn’t sit happy with him, though. And it was understandable why he said that. Gordon’s jaw was still tensed, set tightly. I reached up and patted him on the running board and he seemed to unwind just a slight, his frame coming to a rest.

“Wankers,” he at last said to relieve any emotional steam still pinned up inside. “The lot of them. Completely gobsmacked those types exist.”

“Yeah,” I said with a huff.

“You two finished taking the piss, or are we getting this bloody train a-moving?” Josh asked.

Gordon and I laughed. That finally got the last kink in our collective spines untied. I took a deep breath and rounded Gordon, only to climb in on the driver’s side. We waited for Wesley to come back. He no doubt already ordered the other crewmen to keep an eye on our entitled guests. He maybe a pushover to us, but not to the passengers. Especially the unruly ones. He took out his pocket watch, glanced at it, and then dropped it back into his pocket. He pulled out a radio, calling for the signal to switch the points. The passengers were already on board.

A few of Gordon’s valves began to move just slightly. The cock valves in his cylinders opened up with a hiss. I pinched the brake lever and pushed it forward and Gordon clenched his friction brakes to compensate. Then, the conductor whistled and signaled for the all clear. Gordon steamed forwards slowly, relaxing the brakes. As he pulled up, Wesley took hold of the railing and climbed into the cab.

Gordon sounded his low whistle twice and he was off.

And if y’all are wondering about what happens to the points after the train passes them. It is weight sensitive, and there’s a mechanism that puts the points back once the train clears it. The conductor normally will see if the point had reset by the signal’s position. And it did. Only the lever got stuck, not the mechanism itself.

By the time the train pulled into the station, there were security guards waiting to escort the entitled family to the station master’s office for a stern talking to. On the other platform was Henry with the Express, waiting to load his passengers. I suppose he noticed the security guards escorting the still bickering entitled family, because he spoke up.

“Gordon, what the bloody hell happened?”

“You almost had another wreck, Henry,” Gordon replied. “No thanks to that family of pigs over there.”

“Eh? What were they doing?”

“Messing with the points.”

“So that’s what my driver was acting all frantic about,” he said. “I thought the man was having a heart attack.”

“Nope, you nearly had a wreck like the one back in...what was it…‘36?”

“Was ‘35, actually.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Gordon said. “1935. Bloody snowstorm.”

“I should know, I was out in it, unfortunately. Then the Thin Clergyman decided to put my rebuild at 1951. Don’t know why he’d did that. That was getting close to the year Beeching was proposing his modernization plan.”

“Dreadful man.”

Gordon never liked Richard Beeching. With good reason.

A whistle from the platform sounded and Henry got his signal to move on.

“See you back at the sheds, Gordon!” he said with a whistle, pulling out from the station.

I came walking out onto the platform, stopping right beside Gordon’s smoke box.

“I think I’m gonna go home, prop my feet up, get out a tub of chocolate ice cream and watch a stupid chick flick tonight,” then I turned to him. “Wanna join me?”

“Well, you did leave that tub of ice cream in the freezer back at the sheds,” he said. “What stupid chick flick do you want to watch?”

“How about Sex in the City?”

“Oh, that’s a ripe cabbage, isn’t it?” Gordon asked. “Brilliant. We can both yell at the movie.”

“Hey, Josh, wanna join us?”

“Nah,” he said through the window. “Dinner night. Brian’s cooking.”

“Have fun with that,” I said. “Hey, you make sure you share some leftovers. You know how much I love Brian’s cooking.”

“And how much I love smelling it,” said Gordon. “I swear, if it kills me, I’ll figure out how to eat, someday.”

“I promise, Gordon,” began Josh. “I’m sure he’ll have some leftover wasted vegetable oil. We’ll put it in the strainer and give it to you.”

“Good enough.”

Well, we all returned to our posts and continued the excursion.

Movie night was fun too.

The next day, we were back on Express duty. Sir Topham Hatt came to tell us that family was banned from any excursions and any service on the railway. Like I said, regulated to riding the bus for now on. They were also severely fined. Like severely, made to do some community service as well.

Funny note on that family, apparently, it wasn’t the first time that hog brat messed with the switches. We stopped for a connection with the Skarloey Railway. And in came Sir Handel with his passengers. Word got around quick about the family. And Handel knew all about it.

“They pulled that stunt with us here on the narrow gauge,” said Sir Handel. “The fat twat of a boy started messing with the points. Rheneas saw what was happening, screeched to a halt as best as he could...and derailed. No one was hurt, thank heavens.”

“Why the bloody hell was that family allowed to ride my excursion train, then?” Gordon asked. “If that boy pulled the same stunt as before? And caused a wreck.”

I was out standing on the walkway between the narrow gauge track and the standard one, looking dumbfounded by what Sir Handel had said.

“The little piggy bolted away when he heard his mum calling him,” said Richard, Handel’s driver.

“Aye, greasy bugger, that one,” said Handel. “Before the security could catch up, I suppose he must’ve gotten on your train, Gordon.”

“What the actual fuck,” I said, shaking my head.

“But the security cameras caught him in the act,” said Richard. “I suppose after the second stint he caused, that was enough to ban the whole family. He was also causing some mischief with the Smallies too. Was trying to tip over poor Mike, calling him a toy. Mum encouraged it too, saying ‘he’s only playing’.”

“Bloody strong, if he could attempt to tip over Mike,” said Handel. “Smallies may be small, but they are heavy.”

“Each of them weigh as much as a car,” I said.

“He could tip over your Mustang if given a chance,” said Gordon.

“Like I’d let him have it!”

Gordon chuckled.

“The Small Controller kicked the mother and her brat out,” said Handel. “Filed a report on it. Then, they came here. And started more trouble.”

“And then they came onto my train,” said Gordon. “Lovely, isn’t it? We have a connection with the Arlesdale Railway. Should let the Small Controller know we got the brat and his parents banned from all of the railway.”

“I’d say for that boy, he’s…” began Handel. “How do you American’s say it, Dana? He rides the short bus, seems like?”

“That’s what we say, Sir Handel,” I nodded in agreement. “And his parents probably spoiled him rotten because of it.”

I took a glance back and noticed all the passengers were finally filing on board. Turning around, I slowly trotted back toward Gordon’s cab.

“Thanks for the info!” I waved, hopping back in. “We’ll let Mr. Duncan know we had a visit from the Terror Piglet.”

Both Sir Handel and Gordon broke out into a chuckle at the name I gave the kid.

Sad fact of some parents with children that have developmental problems. Sometimes, they just spoil them, let them do whatever they want. Don’t bother to correct their behavior. And this case was one of those. I suppose my name for the kid seemed mean. I should blame the parents more than the child for bringing him up like that. But considering the havoc he raised, putting people and engines in danger, damaging railway property, little regard to what he was doing, and his parents encouraging the behavior, to relieve my stress, the “Terror Piglet” seemed to stick. Judge me for my own behavior, but the kid nor his parents get no leeway with me. I didn’t exactly have a perfect childhood either, but I did learn enough about real life not to act like a “twat” as they say over here.

Along the way, we managed to find that wretched family. There they were, standing at a bus stop in the heat, sweating like the hogs they were. The entitled brat looked up and started to bolt for the fence, ready to lunge himself over. Which would be trespassing again.

I called out: “Hippity, hoppity! Stay off railway property!”

Gordon gave two short, very short, very poignant whistles as he blew on by them. Being around Gordon for so long, I began to learn what certain whistles meant depending on how the engine sounded them.

Gordon basically flipped that family the bird in the only way an engine could.

Considering what that kid nearly made Henry do yesterday, and the horror that entailed, I didn’t correct him on it. I only smiled.

And now, my mind turned to more important thoughts.

Like Brian’s leftovers in the cooler.

#r/entitledparents #Gordon #gordon the big engine #Henry #henry the green engine #Sir Handel #Island of Sodor #parody #silly fan fic #fanfiction #Thomas and Friends

72 notes · View notes

believingispowerfulmagic · 5 years ago

Text

Inspired by OQ Week: “Truth Revealed”

A/N: This is my third entry for Inspired by OQ Week. This is based on February’s manip in Jen’s (starscythe) 2019 OQ Calendar.

Robin sulked on his couch, drinking his third beer of the night. He was definitely buzzed but found no solace as the sounds of New York City echoed outside his apartment—car alarms, horns honking, dogs barking and a fight from another apartment. Part of him knew he should just go to bed before he went through the entire six-pack he had bought along with dinner that night. Getting drunk wouldn't help anything--no amount of alcohol held the magical ability to fix everything in his life.

To magically transport him back to Storybrooke.

Him and Roland.

Robin leaned forward, rubbing his face as he thought of his son. His boy was sound asleep in the big bed in the next room, surrounded by several pillows so he didn't accidentally roll off it and hurt himself. There had been a few moments when Robin thought he had lost his son forever and he was grateful to have Roland with him once more, even if Marian was gone.

She had left him a few weeks ago, storming out after yet another argument. Even though he had deleted her number from his phone, it still hadn't been enough to convince Marian that he was dedicated to rebuilding their marriage and being a family again. She had wanted him to be the devoted husband she remembered, the one she had left before Emma and Hook had brought her back from the past. It was difficult for her to understand that he had lost her, that he had spent years mourning her and that he had moved on. That he had experienced some real and deep with Regina, something he couldn't just forget and turn away from. He needed time to grieve the loss of his relationship with her and time to get to know Marian again. Robin felt he needed to court her again but she just wanted him to jump all in again. He didn't understand the rush--when he left Storybrooke, he understood they would never be able to return. Even if they could break the curse on the town line, they couldn't break the ice curse on Marian and he wasn't going to abandon her to this strange world or keep her from Roland. Nor would he leave Roland. They then had all the time in the world to rebuild their marriage.

Or he thought they did. But after only a month in New York, thirty-something days of her insisting the only way he would move on and prove he was dedicated to her was by having sex with her, she gave up and declared their marriage over. She packed up two bags—one for her and one for Roland—and insisted she was going to live with a friend she had made. Robin begged her to stay for Roland’s sake, that Robin was the only parent he had known and it wasn’t fair for her to take him away from that. Marian though had bundled up their son and told him that if he wanted to be a family with Regina, it wouldn’t include Roland and then left him alone.

Distraught over the loss of his son, he decided they both needed time to think things over. After a long night of doing just that, he accepted that his marriage was over and that he needed to find a way to convince Marian to co-parent peacefully. He tried to call her to tell her that he wasn’t leaving New York, that he wanted to be Roland’s father, but his calls kept going to voicemail, worrying him as he hoped she hadn't disappeared with Roland.

Robin went to the playground Roland loved the next two days, hoping Marian would take him there so they could talk things over. He knew he had hurt her but hoped she would see that staying together in what was essentially a sham of a marriage would hurt more in the long run. That she would agree to at least discuss a way for them to be parents together and maybe friends again one day. They both had think of what was best for Roland.

On the third day, a strange woman came with Roland. Robin tensed up as she approached with his son, a bag on her shoulder. He stepped closer and Roland smiled as he ran toward Robin, yelling: "Papa!"

"Roland!" Robin raced toward him, meeting him halfway and scooping him into his arms. He held him close, closing his eyes as he cupped his son's head. "Oh, my boy, I've missed you."

"I missed you too," Roland replied, sniffing.

The woman with him held out her hand. "My name is Betty. I work with Marian at the store."

"Nice to meet you," Robin said, shaking her hand. "How is she?"

"Mama's mean," Roland replied, scowling. "She keeps yelling at me and won't do anything she did when you were around."

Frowning, Robin set his son down. "Why don't you go play while I talk with Ms. Betty, okay?"

Roland nodded, running off to go down the slide. Turning back to Betty, Robin asked: "What is going on?"

Betty sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I don't know. It's like Marian has turned into a completely different person. She seems focused on getting revenge on someone named Regina and practically neglects Roland. She doesn't react like a normal mother. It's like he’s nothing more than a nuisance and a pawn, not her child."

"And she yells at him?" Robin asked, unable to truly process what he was being told. None of it sounded like his Marian, who had been a devoted mother both in the Enchanted Forest and Storybrooke.

Then again, he couldn't call her his anymore. And he wondered if he really knew her now that so much time had passed, at least for him.

Betty nodded sadly, holding out a bag. "She's out doing something today and so I took the chance that you would be here. I think Roland would be better with you."

"Oh," he said, surprised as he took the bag from her. "Thank you."

"I debated about this for some time," she admitted, glancing at Roland as he spun around on a merry-go-round with a few other children. "He kept asking for you, begging Marian to take him to you. Each time she kept snapping that he was never going to see you again, that you had abandoned him."

A lump formed in Robin's throat at the thought that Marian would've told Roland such vicious lies, would've tried to turn him against his own father. Though at the same time, he believed she didn't think she was lying. " It's a complicated situation."

She nodded. "I understand that. And I know it's none of my business. But I saw how many times you called her, I read a few of the text messages you sent and I realized the last thing you were doing was abandoning your son. She was keeping him from you and I didn't think that was fair. Especially given how little she seemed to care for him. It's almost like she's not even his mother."

That was an interesting tidbit that Robin filed away for later.

"Anyway, after seeing some of your messages and talking with Roland, I knew what I had to do," Betty finished.

He thanked her again, shouldering Roland's bag. Pausing, Robin asked: "What's going to happen to you once Marian realizes what you've done?"

She shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I'll deal with that but I know I've done what's best for Roland."

"Roland," Robin called. He waited as his son ran over, hugging his leg. Rubbing his back, Robin said: "Say goodbye to Ms. Betty."

Roland waved to the older woman. "Bye, Ms. Betty! Thank you for taking care of me and bringing me back to my Papa!"

"You're welcome, Roland," she said, smiling softly at him. "You be a good boy for him, okay?"

He promised he would be, still waving as Betty walked away. Roland then looked up at Robin, taking his hand. "Can we go home, Papa?"

"Yes, my boy," Robin said, turning to head out of the park. "Let's go home."

"Home to Storybrooke? And Regina? And Henry? And the Merry Men?" Roland asked, a hopeful and pleading look in his eyes.

Sighing, Robin knelt in front of his son and gently pulled him close. "You know Mama can't come to Storybrooke."

"I don't care," Roland replied, his lower lip trembling. "She doesn't act like a Mama now that you're not around. She yells at me and tells me she doesn't care if I eat or if I take a bath. She didn't want to hug me or tuck me in anymore. She got mean."

Every one of his son's words made Robin's heart break even more. He pulled Roland against him, hugging tightly. "I'm sorry, my boy. I don't know what happened."

"I want Regina," Roland said, clinging to Robin as he sobbed. "She was nice and acted like a mama, making sure I ate and took my baths and helping me dress and reading me books at night. Can’t we go back to her? Please?"

Robin wanted Regina too. He just didn't know if they could get back to Storybrooke. Standing up, he took Roland's hand and decided to distract him. "Come on. Let's go get some ice cream."

They returned to their apartment after ice cream. Robin made them a light dinner before giving Roland a bath and putting him to bed. He then grabbed a beer and started contemplating their future for hours.

He still had no answers and felt the most depressed since leaving Storybrooke--and Regina.

Robin decided it was time to turn in. At least he could see her in his dreams.

Continue to read on FFN, AO3 or Wattpad

#once upon a time #outlaw queen #oq au #oq ff #inspired by oq

3 notes · View notes

marshmallow-phd · 6 years ago

Text

Classroom Disruptions

Request: anon: MY GOD I THIRST. Can you please do a Lay from EXO tidbit, where you're a teacher in China from the states and go to a meet-and-greet, and he's smitten? 💘🎀💘🎀

A/N: Here you go, nonie! I changed it up a little. I hope you don’t mind!

Genre: fluff

Pairing: Yixing x Reader

The entire school was in an uproar. It was nearly impossible to keep the kids at a normal, inside volume as they chatted away about the visitors that were coming today. As a rural school, the children were hardly ever exposed to treats like this and it was making them even rowdier than usual.

You, on the other hand, were only partially excited. The crew of Go Fighting was bringing in the stars to interact with the children and sit through a lower level English class for an episode of the odd variety show. And you were one of the lucky teachers they picked to be featured. From your point of view, it was a catch twenty-two.

On one hand, you were a closet fan of Yixing’s. You loved his music and had even seen a few of his films. He was amazingly talented and the idea of seeing him in person went from a small wish you never really indulged in to actually coming to fruition by pure luck. But the teacher part of you was not looking forward to the disruption the cameras and film crew would cause. This was going to be a free day for the children that you didn’t want to occur. You couldn’t expect them to absorb any of the information when celebrities were sitting just a few feet away and you didn’t want any of them to fall behind.

Just as you were gathering up your materials to start the lesson, a knock came at the opened door.

“Excuse me?”

Every head in the classroom, including yours, turned to investigate the intruder. Many sighs of disappointment could be heard when it was discovered that it was just an ordinary person. By the way he was dressed, he was a producer on the show. His English was heavily accented, but clear and understandable.

You walked up to him, wondering if the time was really now. “Yes?”

“The stars are almost here,” he informed you. “Can you pause the lesson until then?”

Well, that was… frustrating. You only had a limited amount of time with the children and this was heavily cutting into it. But you didn’t really have a choice. You turned to Mei, who acted as your interpreter, and she nodded in agreement. The grin on her face was the biggest you’d ever seen it. She was just as excited as the children, doing nothing to hide it.

“Sure,” you agreed, nodding lazily. “How much longer will they be?”

In perfect timing, the producer’s cell peeped in his pocket. He took it out and glanced at the message. “Now.”

A sudden panic came over the producer and he started shoving you back towards your desk. “Act normally. Normally.”

It was a hard task to not roll your eyes. You flipped right into teacher mode, writing out the short little story that was to be used in today’s lesson on the whiteboard. For a few moments, the children were quiet, the only sounds from them shifting in their seats and playing with their utensils on the desks. Then the excited whispers and gasps erupted just as you finished underlining that last important word.

As calm and uninterested you had tried to appear, it was hard to keep up that facade when you turned towards the door.

Followed by a plethora of cameras were three members of Go Fighting’s main cast. Show Lou walked in first, waving to the excited young audience before giving you a small bow. Wang Xun came in next, looking around the classroom like he’d just boarded an alien ship. The last to enter, receiving the biggest applause and greeting, was Zhang Yixing.

Teacher mode. You needed to stay in teacher mode no matter how handsome your newest temporary pupil was.

Then he smiled at you, flashing that dimple. If he kept that up, you’d be a goner by the end of the hour. Someone help you.

As the three celebrities took their seats among the empty desks, they introduced themselves to their new classmates. In the corner of your eyes, you saw the producer urging you to start. Didn’t he know that this was a school, not a studio set?

Inhaling deeply, you took your normal spot in front of the desk.

“Good morning, everyone.” You tried to keep your eyes scanning the room instead of settling on the one person you really wanted to make eye contact with.

“Good morning,” the children replied back along with the celebrities. It was amusing to hear suddenly hear the deeper voices mixed in with the usual greeting. The chuckle just couldn’t be held back from your lips.

“I have a fun story for you today,” you announced as you rounded the desk back to the board. As you pointed to each word, you read aloud slowly, “‘When my sister got married, she wore my mother's wedding dress. The day she tried it on, the gown fit her perfectly and Mother started to cry. ‘You're not losing a daughter,’ I reminded her, putting my arm around her. ‘You're gaining a son.’ ‘Oh, forget about that!’ she said with a sob. ‘I used to fit into that dress.’”

The few in the room who understood the joke giggled, including some of the crew.

“Now,” you pointed to the first underlined word, “who can tell me the meaning of the word ‘gown’?”

Before Mei even had a chance to translate for the children, a very excited voice answered, “Dress!”

Recognizing the voice, you bit back a grin that would have been too big and slowly turned around.

Yixing was sitting in his desk, waiting patiently to be told that he was correct. It stunned you how innocent his face could be. If it weren’t for his height, he could almost fit in with the other grade schoolers. Very different than how he was on stage.

You lifted your hand and scolded playfully, “You’re supposed to raise your hand before answering. You don’t want to be a bad influence on the other students, do you?”

“Oh, sorry!” he apologized bashfully, showing that dang dimple again. The children were giggling at him while Show Lou was half bent in laughter.

“But yes,” you continued on, “it does mean dress. A dress for a special occasion. Can everyone say ‘dress’?”

The chorus echoed the word back carefully.

You finished out the lesson, going over the rest of the underlined words. There were a few times the Go Fighting cast got the meanings wrong, but you suspected that it was more for laughs and editing purposes.

At the end, there was still about fifteen minutes left of class time before the children could go outside to play. You didn’t really have anything else planned, so you had to think on your feet. The only thing that came to mind was either going to completely humiliate you or make everyone’s day. You were hoping for the latter.

“Does everyone know what a sheep is?” you asked slyly.

Yixing immediately perked up at the word while everyone else replied, “Yes!”

“One of the best ways to learn a new language is through songs,” you went on. “Mr. Zhang, would you like to explain the meaning of some of your English lyrics to the class?”

Letting out his signature giggle, Yixing stood up and walked his way up to the board. And you. It would be a miracle if the cameras didn’t capture your cheeks heating up.

“May I?” he asked with his hand outstretched. It took you much longer than it should have for you to realize that he was asking for the marker so he could write on the whiteboard.

As you opted to sit back and be no help whatsoever, it took a bit of time for Yixing to explain what exactly “Be careful sheep in the neighborhood” meant to a classroom of eight-year-olds, but he eventually got through it. Every so often he would shoot a sideways glance your direction and you tried to keep the giggling to a minimum.

All too soon, the hour was up and the camera men packed up to follow the children to the playground where the cast members were to participate in a few different sports against the students. Relieved that the ordeal was over and you could somewhat get your nervous system back down to normal, you waved goodbye to your students and watched them walk out the door.

When you thought the classroom was empty, you turned your back to the door and began to clear off the board in order to get it ready for the next class.

“Excuse me.”

You paused. It couldn’t be….

It was.

Yixing was still standing there, just a few feet away. Everyone else was gone, Mei included. You were alone. With Zhang Yixing.

“Thank you for the lesson today,” he said once you’d turned to face him fully. His accent was cute, but his English skills fascinated you. The poor boy had difficulty with Korean, but English seemed to be just fine.

“Thank you,” you blushed. Someone save you before you accidentally said something stupid.

One of the crewmen stuck his head back into the classroom and quickly spoke to Yixing in Mandarin before disappearing again.

“I have to go,” Yixing translated. He almost seemed disappointed, but could he be? It was just... you. “It was nice to meet you.”

Unable to hold it back anymore, you smiled brightly at him, getting the dimpled smile in return. “And you.”

He walked out of the classroom and you watched his back until he disappeared down the hall.

When you woke up the next morning, the events of the previous day seemed like one elaborate dream. You sighed heavily before getting out of bed, dressing for the day. Everything seemed normal until you walked into the classroom.

Sitting there on your desk was a fresh bouquet of red roses, fully bloomed and velvet soft to the touch, in a crystal clear vase. No one else was present in the classroom. A card rested among flowers. On it was a short note. You recognized the handwriting right away, having seen it just yesterday.

Meeting you was nice, but can I get to know you more? May I have dinner with you on Saturday?

The card wasn’t signed, but there was a number at the bottom. Zhang Yixing had actually asked you out to dinner.

How could you ever refuse?

#exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo scenarios #exo imagines #yixing x reader #zhang yixing #lay #fluff #kpop #cpop

376 notes · View notes

axiumin · 6 years ago

Text

Bad Boy | BamBam x Reader

Anonymous said: Hello! Can you do a smut High-school au with Bambam that bad boy rich popular kid in school that spends every night with a lot of different women and girls and has a jacuzzi n shit😂😂 and randomly falling in love with you and then one night you get drunk at a party at his house and you admit your feelings (which you didn’t want to cause you didn’t want to fall for a fuckboy like him) and then you become a bit needy and ask him if you two can go to his room so he locks his room and all begins;))

Hi, anon! Thank you for the request! I made this a college AU instead of high school because I never want to write sexual content for minors. Much of the premise should be the same (though the smut is just implied, sorry!), so I hope you don’t mind the changes.

He was a legend. The whole student populace seemed to know all about BamBam— his parties, his hookups, his bad boy reputation. You never wanted to be just another notch in his bedpost. So why did your heart race every time you locked eyes with him?

Pairing: BamBam x Reader

Genre: Drama, College!AU

Words: 3.5k

He was a legend— or at least his parties were. Once a month, his house turned into a playground for rowdy college students. According to the rumors that fluttered around campus, the parties were a hedonist’s paradise: alcohol flowed like water, the bass from the very expensive sound system could be heard blocks away, and revelry abounded. There was even a jacuzzi.

You had been to a couple of his parties in the past, hovering just at the edge of chaos. You carefully avoided throwing yourself in the fray, yet all you could distinctly remember from the parties was a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations and one hell of a hangover the next morning. Seems all the rumors about the parties were true.

You had to wonder, then, how much truth lie in the rumors about the man himself. Everyone seemed to have some story to tell about him, some whispered tidbit to share idly during a boring lecture.

“I hear BamBam has a modeling contract in Argentina.”

“I hear he has three vacation homes in Hawaii.”

“I hear Apple offered to pay him to listen to Apple Music.”

“I hear the Queen of England once saw him smile and swooned.”

All sorts of outlandish rumors seemed to circulate among the student body, and it was becoming more difficult for you to draw a clear line between what was plausible and what wasn’t. There was actually very little you knew for sure about BamBam. You knew he was in your year, though he either showed up late for his lectures or not at all; you knew that he was a cocky son of a bitch, and people seemed to eat up his smug smirks and dashing eyebrow quirks; and you knew of the trail of destruction BamBam left in the wake of his one-night stands.

For all the rumors about BamBam’s supposed eccentricities, there were just as many rumors about the people he’d hooked up with. They were poor souls, by all accounts, broken-hearted and left yearning for more from a man who refused to be tied down by commitment. You’d caught a fleeting glimpse of Bam at one of his parties, leading a girl in your year up the stairs to his bedroom, secretive smile on his face. You’d seen the girl since— and likely plenty of his other past hook-ups— and she certainly didn’t seem to be irreparably heartbroken, yet you had little reason to doubt that BamBam just wasn’t the kind of guy to commit to a monogamous relationship.

You weren’t exactly looking for a forever partner, yourself, and you certainly weren’t going to sit around and judge other people for their sex lives, yet you privately resolved to never become just another notch in his bedpost. You did not want to be fuel for someone else’s rumors.

So why did you feel the flutter of butterflies in your stomach every time you locked eyes with BamBam over your battered copy of Eugene Onegin?

Your literature course was the only class you shared with BamBam, and it miraculously seemed to be the only class he attended consistently. You found this odd; you hadn’t really pegged him as the literary type, and sure enough, every time you stole a glance at him from across the room, he seemed to be focused on anything but the professor.

More often than not these days, that something ended up being you, and you felt your cheeks grow warm every time you got caught looking at him, too.

It was only three weeks into the semester, and you’d already made eye contact with him more than you ever had with the girl who sat in the seat next to you. (Though, you conceded, that probably didn’t mean much when she very much seemed like the kind of person who only excavated herself from her bed in order to get requisite attendance points from her class— not that you could particularly blame her.)

For the most part, it wasn’t much of a hardship for you to share a class with BamBam. Sure, it was a test of your ability to focus on 19th century Russian literature instead of the enticing gaze that bore into the side of your head every class. But honestly, you’d been planning on working on your willpower and resolution lately, anyway, so might as well get some practice this way.

The problem came when your professor decided to break the class into small discussion groups— students’ choice. Naturally, your classmates gravitated towards their neighbors rather than go through the effort of physically walking around the room.

Which was why you were quite surprised to realize that BamBam had all but dashed across the room to stand in front of you and your somnolent neighbor.

“Do you guys have a third partner?” he asked, eyebrows raised hopefully.

You cast a hesitant glance at the girl next to you, but she just blinked and shrugged drowsily back at you, of no particular help whatsoever. Around you, the other groups had obviously formed and settled in, so you really had no choice but to shrug up at BamBam.

“I guess you’re our third partner.”

BamBam flashed a grateful smile and pulled up a chair. You, BamBam, and your third, very sleep partner (you’d tried asking for her name on the first day of class, but she had just stared blankly at you without saying anything, so you never asked again) sat in awkward silence for a moment before you cleared your throat and spoke.

“So, what did you think of this chapter?” You looked at the girl first, but she didn’t look up from her doodles in her notebook, so you reluctantly turned your gaze to BamBam, who just shrugged.

“It was kind of boring, I guess. I mean it’s a book written as a poem. Not very interesting, is it?” he said with a devil-may-care smirk. He sat slouched back in his chair, his long legs stretching out so far in front of him that you had to be careful not to bump his feet with yours.

You frowned and picked at the corner of your pad of paper. “I dunno,” you said, shrugging and looking down at your copy of the book. Careful annotations lined the margins of the page. “I thought it was pretty interesting, actually.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw BamBam suddenly sit up in his seat a bit, looking a bit surprised. “Oh. Really? I mean, I guess it’s not a bad book.” The words came out awkward and unsure, and you both cringed and averted your eyes to different corners of the room.

Blessedly, you were spared any further interaction when the professor called an end to the breakout discussions. BamBam stayed where he was sitting, though, and you spent the rest of the lecture fastidiously taking notes, if only to avoid his burning gaze. As soon as class was over, you gathered your belongings as quickly as you could and fled the room, worried that if you lingered too long, BamBam might actually try speaking with you again.

As successful as your retreat was, however, it provided only a temporary respite. Your lit professor decided that the breakout discussion groups were apparently a swimming success, and he decided to keep the groups of three active for the rest of the semester. So, the very next day of class, you found yourself once again sitting in a triangle of perfect awkwardness, staring at your book and wishing you’d decided to stay home. Or chosen another major. Or something.

“Uh, so this Eugene guy is kind of awful, right?” Your eyes flashed up to BamBam’s face, surprised to hear him speak. He seemed almost surprised as you were, but he quickly recovered once he realized you were looking at him. “I mean, he acts like he’s better than everyone else, but he’s really just ruining things for everyone, isn’t he?”

Slowly, you nodded. “Yeah, he’s kind of a Byronic hero. Broody, alluring, misunderstood, but also not really good for much in this case. That’s one of the things I like about this book in particular. The Byronic hero isn’t really a hero, you know?”

BamBam nodded slowly. “I know what you mean,” he said, though, really, he didn’t seem very convinced of that. “I guess I can see why you like this book so much. It’s not that bad.” BamBam offered you a smirk, and you found yourself tentatively smiling in return.

The breakout discussions tended not to be so bad after that. BamBam didn’t really have anything particularly profound to offer— and your other group member didn’t really offer anything at all— but it was clear that he actually read the chapters, and he seemed to try to make comments that would earn a smile or a nod from you. He preened and smirked whenever you agreed with him, but even that wasn’t as annoying as it might have been before. If anything, you felt sort of… fond to see him preen like that.

But as soon as each discussion time ended and the lecture resumed, you felt BamBam’s stare on you, heavy and tempting. You never looked back.

For the next couple of weeks, your class continued to use these breakout groups, though it wasn’t until you were almost finished with Eugene Onegin that things really changed.

“I think it’s kind of messed up that this guy thinks he can just play with people’s hearts like that. I mean, just because he’s weirdly desirable doesn’t mean he gets to be a jerk about it,” BamBam blustered. When he finished speaking, he watched you, eagerly waiting for your agreeing nod or comment, but instead you were just baffled.

Was the irony lost on him? Did BamBam not realize that, were rumors to be believed, he was guilty of the same thing he criticized in Onegin? You chewed on your lip for a moment, wondering if it was even worthwhile to bring it up, but BamBam was still watching you with that expectant look on his face.

“It is pretty messed up,” you conceded slowly, gauging his face for a reaction. He just started to smirk again at your agreement. “I think that if we were to think about it in the modern sense, it would be a lot like a guy who’s super popular for kind of the wrong reasons, and he uses this to his advantage when it comes to getting girls he wants. Not because he likes these girls, per se, but because they’re more trophies or things he thinks he deserves because people like him.” As you spoke, you watched the smirk melt off BamBam’s face, but you felt no satisfaction.

“It’s kind of like a fuckboy, don’t you think?” you finished, your gaze never wavering from BamBam. He looked… stricken, you supposed was a word for it. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but before he could come up with anything to say, the professor called the class back together for lecture.

You didn’t feel his gaze on you even once during the lecture.

Once class was called to an end, you sighed and gathered together your belongings. Your notes were remarkably poor; you hadn’t been able to think about anything but the hurt look in BamBam’s eyes all through the rest of class.

You were just about to sling your backpack on your shoulder and shuffle off to your next class, but you were stopped by an almost hesitant voice.

“Hey.” You turned to see BamBam, looking notably less smirky than usual.

“Hey,” you said back carefully, half wondering if he was going to talk about what you said during the discussion. God, you sure hoped not.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, seemingly mulling over his words before he spoke. “I’m hosting another party this Friday. I was hoping I might see you there,” he said, and something about the hopeful uptick of the corner of his mouth made your heart clench.

You thought about his gaze burning into you during classes, about the pumping bass and delirium of his parties, about your resolution not to be another one of his hookups.

You thought about the look on his face when you shut him down, condemned him for the same actions he hated in Eugene Onegin.

“I’ll be there,” you said, honestly surprised that your voice didn’t waver.

BamBam perked up, and that familiar damn smirk crept back on his face. “Good. I look forward to it.” With a nod, he turned to walk out the door. He hesitated just in the entryway and cast one glance back at you before he turned and left.

You stood in the middle of the classroom, backpack half slipping off your shoulder, and wondered what you’d just gotten yourself into.

See, you’d gone to his parties before. But somehow, it was entirely different now that he’d personally invited you— and after you’d insulted him, no less. Your already shaky nerves were only rattled further when you finally got close enough to the house to feel the heavy bass. It was early yet, but the party was already in full swing. Not surprising. Few students at your university could pass up the opportunity to turn up like the world was going to end.

The party was exactly like you remembered it to be: loud music, a sea of red solo cups, and the hot press of a crowd of dancing bodies. You barely crossed the threshold before someone pressed a cup of something toxic in your hand. You eyed the drink dubiously, but compared to the throng that awaited you, it was certainly the lesser of two evils. Besides, you had the feeling you’d need the extra courage to get through the night.

You downed the cup in one go, fighting off the instinct to gag against the burn of it in your nose and throat. It was vile, but it did its job well. Almost instantly, you could feel warmth suffusing to your cold, shaky fingers. The muscles of your shoulders relaxed just the tiniest bit, and you let yourself get swept into the crowd of dancers, surrendering to the pulse of the bass.

It was in the midst of the dancefloor that you found BamBam. He was resplendent in all black, moving his body to the music with such ease that it seemed impossible to mistake him for anything but the king of this party. He was such a vision that at first, you thought you’d imagined the glimpse you’d caught of him, but when he locked eyes with you and called out your name, there was no mistaking.

He pushed through the crowd effortlessly, coming to a stop right in front of you. You couldn’t stop dancing for fear of getting jostled by the other partygoers, so you swallowed down your nervousness and looped an arm around BamBam’s shoulders, guiding him to match the movements of your body.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he half-yelled above the sound of the music. He needn’t have yelled, though. Once you were this close to him, it was as though you had some sort of tunnel vision that blocked out anyone and anything else. Somehow, even with the cacophony of music and revelry, all you could see was the strangely vulnerable look in his eyes, the same one from that day in class.

“I said I would,” you replied, and you hoped that he could hear the things you didn’t dare say aloud. The apology, the tentative olive branch.

BamBam peered closely into your face and nodded, and for the first time, you thought he truly understood what you were thinking.

“You did,” he confirmed. “I’m glad you came.” One of his arms came up to wrap around your waist, pulling you in. His other hand cupped your cheek, and suddenly it seemed as though the thumping bass was a mirror to the thumping of your heart.

Your face felt warm and your head light, and you knew for a fact you hadn’t drunk enough alcohol to blame it on that. Instead, you knew the culprit was the treacherous flutter of your stomach, the same feeling that arose every time you locked eyes with BamBam, and every time you felt his gaze on you but didn’t dare return it.

The fluttering was in full force tonight as you danced close to BamBam. He stared at you with that intense, burning gaze he always had. But now, you stared back, and you saw the things you refused to see before: longing, desire, and that vulnerability that made your throat grow tight.

As you looked at him, you felt emotion stirring deep within yourself. You were forced to confront everything you’d felt for BamBam: distrust of his reputation, annoyance at his cockiness, guilt for having hurt him. But you also felt a desire that mirrored his own, curiosity for what kind of a person he truly was under those rumors and that facade, and a startlingly deep longing for something that you couldn’t quite put a name to yet.

Your fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt as your emotions tumbled through your head. The fluttering in your stomach began anew, stronger than ever, and you felt words leave your mouth before you even realized you’d conjured them.

“I want you, BamBam. Even though I know I shouldn’t. I’ve tried to ignore it, but I can’t. I can’t ignore you.”

You were mortified as soon as the words left your mouth. Already, you felt yourself becoming like the people you heard about in the rumors— the past hookups who were so desperate for any part of BamBam they could get. You’d never believed in those particular rumors, but now you couldn’t help but wonder if there was some truth to them.

BamBam was just another Byronic hero. He wasn’t quite normal, never quite fit in the same way other people did. But it was the things that set him apart from others that also drew them in, made him alluring. BamBam was the kind of man who could leave a trail of destruction in his wake, but there would always be someone else falling for his charms, setting themselves up for a fall. You were just the next in line.

You cringed away from the truth of your words, but there was no denying the way your heart fluttered when BamBam lit up. His lips pulled not into his signature smirk, but a bright smile that made his eyes crease, and your face grew warm as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I’d hoped,” he breathed, and the way he looked at you made you hope, too. “I hoped, but I never thought—.” He shook the thought from his head, pulling away from you to look at you carefully. “Come to my room?” he asked.

“Yes.” The word was steady even if your hands were not.

BamBam easily navigated through the crowd, tugging you along behind him. Anticipation simmered low in your belly, doggedly drowning out the niggling doubt that urged you to turn back. When you finally made it to his room, the door closed behind you, turning the loud music into muffled bass. But rather than helping you clear your thoughts, you found that your brain felt muffled, too.

For a long moment, you stood there, back pressed against the door, wrestling with your thoughts as best you could. BamBam stood in front of you, close enough to touch, but hands resting at his sides, twitching with the desire to reach out and hold you.

You looked at him and saw everything you felt— the desire, the longing, that damnable hope. Your heart hammered against your rib cage, but you felt certainty settle over your shoulders. You wanted this, for better or worse.

You opened your arms to BamBam, and you saw the flicker of relief in his face the moment before he surged forward to catch your lips in a searing kiss. The hot press of his body against yours made your nerve endings light up with anticipation, and you couldn’t help but press even deeper into him.

When BamBam broke the kiss for air, he trailed his mouth along your jaw, pressing against the sensitive patch of skin just under your ear.

“God, I’ve wanted this so badly. Wanted you so badly. I promise I’ll make this good for you, treat you right.” The words were spoken with so much emotion that it felt like a punch to the gut. You could only moan feebly and clutch at the back of his shirt.

Part of you wanted desperately to believe that he would treat you right, that tonight would be the start of something beautiful between the two of you. But the words had come out too smooth, just a bit too practiced, as if they were familiar on his tongue.

You reached behind you and flicked the lock on his door.

This might end in disaster, but damn whatever happened tomorrow. You were ready for tonight.

#got7 #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #got7 one shots #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop one shots #bambam #kunpimook bhuwakul #bambam one shot #bambam request #bambam x reader #bambam au #college au #would you consider this angst?#please let me know

150 notes · View notes