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just-a-creep-babe · 4 years ago

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What type of April fools pranks would the creeps pull

-tiny anon

I, ah, went more-so with how they act on April fools instead of what pranks they do, mostly just cause I’m bad at thinking of pranks :”)

ALSO I didn’t have much time to write this & I wanted it out by today, so it might not be as refined as my other writing 😳👉👈

Nonetheless, hope this is alright! ☺️💖

Masterlist: x

Slenderman

No pranks from him tbh

This tired eldritch dad is, unfortunately, probably gonna (unintentionally) get the brunt of most pranks—just cause he’s at the wrong place at the wrong time 😐😔

And, y’know, you would THINK that because he’s telepathic, he’d be able to get a read on what the lil shits are planning, right?

But nope

He never prods into the others’ brains unless he has a reason to (out of respect for their privacy), so he ultimately always ends up paying the price

It doesn’t help that he tends to forget humans have this specific tradition once a year

Otherwise, he probably WOULD peer into their minds to find out what they’re planning

It somehow just always sneaks up on him smh

There was maybe only one year that he just so ~happened~ to remember

And that was pretty much the only year he didn’t get fooled by anyone/anything ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Jeff the Killer

Oh boy

One of the absolute worst people to get pranked by

When he combines forces with BEN?

The two are unstoppable

Pranks range from the classic slime-over-the-doorframe trick to some of the most innovative, dickish pranks he can think of

If only he used his powers for good 😔👊

He can & WILL flip the entire mansion around, if need be, to prank people

Nothing’s off limits if it means he gets to humiliate someone

(Even though he should know not to cross certain boundaries smdh)

He pretty much always ends up having to do EXTRA chores for Slender as a punishment for going too far :”)

BEN Drowned

My mans is part of the aforementioned chaos duo

Being a ghost entity that roams the internet, he happens to get ~plenty~ of ideas to fool the others with

He will legit spend WEEKS planning ahead for what he wants to do, how he wants to do it & how it’s all going to go down

Again, if only he used his powers for good :”)

This day of the year is, like, legit the one & only day he plans everything out to a tee

He’s usually a lazy boi™️ but no shortcuts are EVER to be taken on April fools

His fave victims include Masky (it’s funny to see him get so upset), Dark Link (I mean, he’s not gonna pass up an opportunity to embarrass his rival), and, surprisingly, Jeff

He LOVES turning the tables on his prank buddy

Jeff tries to get him back for it, but it’s very difficult to properly fool BEN 👀

Such are the perks of being a super smart internet-lurking ghost, I suppose 🤷‍♀️

Eyeless Jack

Eh, he’s not too keen on the whole thing

He considers himself a bit too mature to deal with that kind of “childish behaviour”

He’s not very fun to prank either, because A) he’s got super fast reflexes, B) he’s got heightened senses, and C) if the others somehow manage to catch him off guard despite that, he’ll just be like “ok cool” and carry on with his day

No Shits Given

Still, knowing how goddamn chaotic the mansion gets during this time of year, more often than not, he tends to make himself sparse

Either he locks himself up in his room, or he sticks around the creeps that also don’t like the tradition, or he leaves and goes,,, wherever he usually goes when he disappears from the mansion sometimes

On the rare occasion that he does stay behind, he might help one of the creeps to get their revenge on someone that pranked them

But only if he’s feeling particular playful that day, which doesn’t happen very often

Honestly, because he takes pity on Slender, if he comes back to the mansion being a mess, he’ll help clean things up

Overall a good boi that deserves some head pats for not turning into a goddamn monkey like the others smh

Masky

Masky is essentially the 2nd tired dad figure that has to deal with “this shit again,” as he puts it

Except, unlike Slender, the others aren’t scared of him, so he might ultimately get the worse brunt of it (even worse than what his boss gets)

Something about the way he reacts just makes for some ✨quality content✨ to the others

And, just because they can, they like to film him

It sucks for Masky, because not only does he get his ass handed to him, but then the others also get blackmail footage of him 😐😐

He hates it lmfaoo

Honestly considers hiding under a rock until the day’s over

But, somehow, they always manage to find him & drag him back out into the fray

This poor manses can’t catch a break

Someone help him please—he’s too tired to deal with this 😔🤘

Hoodie

I know we haven’t gotten to him yet, but Hoodie’s somewhere between Toby & EJ when it comes to the tradition

He’s relatively laid-back & won’t actively go out of his way to fool someone

But, hey, if there’s a prank to be had like right there, who’s he to not go for it?

His pranks tend to be relatively low effort—like a joke or a lie or something that tricks someone into believing something kinda stupid

His victim makes a fool of themselves, everyone has a good laugh, then the joke’s over & people move on

Albeit sometimes, the gag lasts longer than intended

Like that one year he convinced Toby that slugs can communicate telepathically because of all the fungus they eat

And Toby believed it for many months until Slender had to break the news to him 😔😔

Also, somehow?? homeboy’s damn near impossible to prank

Many have tried, all have failed—no one knows how he does it 🤷‍♀️

Ticci Toby

Prank time! Prank time! Prank time!

Boy fucking lives for the day he gets to have fun & mess around with the others

Every year most likely ends up with him getting injured, but hey, nothing new there :/

Unlike BEN & Jeff, he probably won’t turn the mansion upside-down (both figuratively and literally smh) to trick people

He’s more-so in it for the goofs

Like he doesn’t actually wanna humiliate or embarrass anyone too badly, ya know?

He’ll recruit others & form a prank gang because he knows there’s strength in numbers 😌✨

And it’s an unspoken code that those in the prank gang can’t prank each other

So, honestly?

Toby might be the most wholesome April fools-er out of everyone :3

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #slenderman #Jeff the killer #Ben drowned #Ticci Toby #eyeless jack #masky #hoodie

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slashiest-slasher · 5 years ago

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michael, jason, billy lenz, brahms, and thomas hewitt with a s/o who's deceptively strong? like they go to manhandle them one day, or maybe there's a fight/argument and s/o just goes "lmao nope" and pick them or someone else up like a bratty cat????

this is such a fucking mood my dude. i do this to my friends all the time when they're being lil shits and standing in my way on purpose. just boop! pick 'em up and plop 'em down somewhere else | ￣︶￣|o but i'm a big ol' soft boy so is surprises them every single time

‘nother read more bc i physically cannot stop myself from writing hella lot. warnings for nsfw-ish bits with billy lenz and brahms

Michael Myers

- You must've done something to royally piss Michael off, because he has been trying to stab you all day. And normally, you would brush it off as him trying to spook you, but he had gotten a slash in on your thigh that stings like a fucking bitch.

- Okay Michael, you want to dance, then let's dance.

- The next time you see him he's coming at you with his knife, you're prepared. He doesn't expect you to tackle him around the middle, and hoist him over your shoulder like he was nothing but a sack of potatoes. It startles him enough that he drops his knife.

- And he doesn't expect to not be able to squirm out of the grasp you have on his wrists after you dump him on the couch and crawl on top of him.

- You had looked to weak, so pathetic. That was part of the reason Michael spared you in the first place. But now the tables have turned, and while Michael never really like relinquishing his power, to anyone he lets it go just this once. And whatever reason he thought of that made him want to kill you is forgotten.

- But you forget that Michael is stealthy, and thinks he's just as strong as as you are. So he can and will sneak up on you and pick you up. But you easily overpower him. You think he would learn from the first time, but Michael is determined to get one over you.

- The only time he finally, finally learns that you're stronger than him is when you hold him down and tie him to the bed, and have your wicked way with him. It might not entirely be a bad thing for you to be stronger than him.

- But that still doesn't change the fact that Michael thinks he's stronger than you.

Jason Voorhees

- Okay so, you could understand why Jason always wanted to kill the people that trespassed onto Camp Crystal Lake. It was his camp, and campers had killed his mother (even though it was out of self defense). And a lot of the people that came here were, frankly douchebags. But c'mon Jason, these are just some friends that want to go on a camping trip!

- And he outright ignores you, and locks you in your cabin, as if that's going to stop you. You get to the campers before him, because while he may know the lay of the land better, you are overall lighter and faster than him. All it takes is a warning of a serial killer on the loose and flashing a fake police badge for them to pack up and leave, heading to a motel you recommended.

- And Jason is /not/ happy. If he could yell, he would, but instead he grumbles and groans as loudly as he can and stamps his foot. Angry enough, it seems, to try and pick you up and wrangle you back to the cabin. But oh, ho, ho Jason! You're not in the mood for playing around!

- Jason is yet another victim of being effortlessly thrown over your shoulder, and he has no clue what's going on when it happens, until you're halfway back to the cabin. Even then, he's unable to squirm out of that iron clad grasp of yours until you let him go in the cabin, and decide that you're spending the night in town if Jason's going to be in a mood.

- He is absolutely flabbergasted, so shocked that he can't function until you're long gone.

- But you're so tiny. He was almost touching the ground even despite you carrying him. And even though he should feel indigated at the whole experience, it reminded him too much of his mother. Yes, Jason was always a well behaved boy, but there were occasions where he acted up and Pamela had to carry him to his room for a timeout.

- And Pamela recalls this fondly, and says that you're going to be such a good parent if the two of you ever got around to having kids together, even though Jason's pretty sure he can't even have kids with someone, let alone with you.

- Oh well, a mother can dream.

Billy Lenz

- Of course you know Billy's hiding up in the attic of the sorority, but it's not like you're going to spill the beans and tell anyone. Technically, you weren't supposed to be here either, but the girls were letting you crash here during the fallout of some dorm drama. There was an empty room they could never decide on someone to stay there, so it was all yours.

- And Billy loved breaking into your room in the middle of the night. Barb might've had a tongue on her, but you were the one ballsy enough to tell Billy "not to threaten you with a good time" and "put his money where his mouth is if he's man enough". And as far as the girls of the house knew, you had a secret boyfriend who you would have a go at in the middle of the night. Yeah, the people who couldn't sleep through it weren't happy about the noise, but no one suspected it was Billy who was making you moan like that.

- And you had told Billy to knock it off for the night, because everyone was drinking, and everyone was passed out in the living room. And even though they sleeping solidly, Billy knew how loud you got when he slipped his hand in your pants and played with you, let alone his mouth. He was crouching between your legs, trying to shimmy your trousers off, and licking his lips as his mouth watered, so you knew exactly how this was going to go.

- Phyl was starting to shift and groan, so there was no time to waste. Pulling your pants back up and buttoning them as quickly as you could, you tossed Billy over your shoulder in a fireman's carry and sprinted up the stairs, and crawled up into the attic without so much as batting an eye.

- Billy however, oh dear Billy was so shocked that until you dumped him down on the mattress in the attic he slept on. As soon as he was set down, he jumped at you, mouthing at your neck and pulling you down onto the mattress with him, begging you to "Play with naughty Billy again, play with Billy until you make him scream.".

- Sufficed, Billy is very, very excited, and wholeheartedly supports any shows of excessive strength when it comes to him. He may initially have loved holding power over you, and don't get him wrong, he still does, but the way you can pick him up and treat him like a doll really gets him going.

Brahms Heelshire

- Bratty, baby Brahms is a mad cuddle fiend. In any regard, in any way you'll let him. Big spoon, little spoon, forking, laying against each other, hugs, Brahms will take anything you give him, even if it's just holding hands.

- And he knows you love them just as much as he does, and he does use this against you all the time.

- No, no, we don't need to eat breakfast just yet, we can lay in bed a few more hours.

- Fine, you can go pee, but Brahms will hold your hand the entire time (because he knows you'll let him).

- But this was it, this was the final straw. Brahms was sitting in your lap, facing you, arms wound around your neck and snuggled quite happily against the side of your face while you tried to read a book over his shoulder.

- But by God, Brahms reeked. You know baths weren't his favorite, but he had been running through the walls for days while something in the house was being fixed by a construction crew. His entire body reeked from sweat, his hair was greasy, and he certainly hadn't changed his clothes the entire time. You liked when Brahms had a musk about him, but this was too much for you.

- It was a back and forth for the past hour of trying to get Brahms to get up and bathe. You would tell Brahms he was a stinky boy, and he would say five more minutes. Enough was enough. When you grab Brahms' ass, at first he finally thinks you've caved to have fun times with him, but when you stand up and keep him held up by those hands, he wraps himself around you in an effort not to be dropped.

- Even though he has probably been though longer falls than this would be, he begs you to please put him down, but you do not waver. Regardless of how spooked he is, he is also incredibly turned on, knowing that you could take him up against a wall whenever you wanted, or even *gasp* carry him around like the baby he is!

- You can appreciate him shutting up, but in retrospect, him rutting against you and letting out those deep whines might be harder to deal with. Especially when tries pulling you closer by digging his heels into the small of your back. Another adventure for another day, you think, when you dump him into the shower and crank the cold water on full blast, clothes and all.

- Brahms isn't exactly happy about that, but it's a non-issue for you to strip and pin him down in the tub to fling his sopping clothes off and scrub him down with a loofah and wash his hair.

- When Brahms is finally clean, and sitting on his bed in a towel, he carefully plots his revenge. And oh, he will get his revenge. He just needs to figure out how to work around your freakish strength first.

Thomas Hewitt

- So you don't know what entirely is up with the Hewitt's yet, but you know it's something pretty bad is everyone else avoids them, or refuses to talk about them. But you had moved into town with your family quite a bit ago, and you had eyes for their son Thomas.

- You didn't know what the fuss was about when you popped into their gas station and asked his uncle (brother?), Charlie, for proper permission to take him out for a date. After all, it was the only polite thing to do, since you rarely saw Thomas out and about without one of his family members after he stopped showing up to the new school.

- If Luda Mae hadn't stopped him, you would've had your head blown clean off. Luda Mae let you down kinder, saying she was real happy someone had eyes for Thomas, but you were an outsider and had no place in their family.

- Oh well, like that was going to stop you. This boy made your heart thump, and you weren't about to give up because he has some nasties in his family. Hell, your family wasn't the happiest about your choice in crush, but you were determined.

- His sister (aunt, cousin? you didn't really know what was up with his family) Henrietta was kinder, and agreed to be your little liaison, delivering flowers and letters to him on her behalf. And you didn't know about it, but she had been working Luda Mae to let you two out for a date.

- Charlie, oh boy, was he pissed when you showed up on the property to take Thomas out on a picnic date. No matter how much Luda Mae yelled at him to leave you the hell alone, he was still fixing on shooting you clean in the head. Cocky son of a bitch sure didn't expect you pick him up and set him down on the couch, before scooping up Thomas and walking out of the house with him.

- You weren't much to look at, so Charlie was thrown for a loop when you put him in his place, and was down right shocked like you picked Thomas up bridal style like it was nothing, and strolled out to your pick-up truck.

- Thomas is just as surprised, though goes willingly. You had seemed so sweet and kind and soft, he knew you wouldn't mesh well with the Hewitt lifestyle. But you made him so happy that he wanted to throw all caution to the wind. He's delighted to know that you could hold your own against his family.

- Everyone, even himself, expects him to be one big, mean, bastard, but after confirming with an arm wrestling match that you're much, much stronger than him, he lets his guard down. He can be scared, and confused, and not expect a backhand or called an animal or a retard. I mean, you call him a stud, but even he knows that's meant as a compliment.

- He gets so bubbly and happy when you pick him up and carry him around, especially when you do it without him asking. It makes him feel like a kid again. It also puts you two on even footing for once, so he can kiss you and bump his face (which you don't mind? it boggles his mind) against yours.

- And it's always a good day for everyone when you put Charlie in his place, and he shuts the hell up for once. Despite his intense dislike for you, everyone else in the family adores you and welcomes you with open arms. There's not many people that Thomas without exception or hesitation, and they're always welcome members of the Hewitt household.

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2dsheep · 5 years ago

Text

Levi hates drinking.

Sure, it might help him forget a few things for a short while, but it comes at the cost of making his body slow and less responsive, and having his thoughts slip out with an ease he isn’t comfortable with. Not to mention that he’s never woken up without his head pounding the following morning, even after just one glass.

“Come on, get another one in ya!”

Levi hates drinking with Hanji even more.

Hanji’s either oblivious to this or they simply choose to ignore it as they fill Levi’s glass, so eagerly that it spills right over the brim. There’s no use in Levi complaining though. Careful not to spill any more, he brings it to his lips and takes a swig, flinching as it swills across his tongue. He doesn’t even like the taste of the stuff, but he knows Hanji needs a night like this every now and then, even if they won’t admit it outright. Doesn’t mean he has to enjoy it though.

On any normal day Hanji talks too much, but when they drink it’s as if they need to talk just as any other person needs to breathe, their favourite topic being the years long behind them, and all the people trapped there. They paint their own colourful spin to it though, possibly to try and make the whole thing just a little less miserable.

On the rare occasion Levi’ll agree to drink, it’s a small, often futile attempt to forget about the past, to blur out all their words and faces, consequences and hangovers be damned.

The mess hall is empty save the two of them and of course the silence that takes up every other bit of space in there. It’s always like this lately. Even when all the remaining members of the survey corps comes to dine - not that there are many left - the quiet refuses to give way, lingering there in the background like stubborn mould, simply waiting for its chance to take over.

His glass isn’t even half empty when Hanji moves to fill it up once more. Levi doesn’t stop them.

“Hey Levi,” they start with a chuckle which is husky from drink. “Do you remember the time when Mike and Erwin - ”

“ - Not today, Hanji.”

Or ever.

Though Levi keeps his eyes fixed on the table before him, occupying his mind with thoughts of giving the wood a good scrub, he can feel Hanji’s eyes digging into him. It’s uncomfortable, but he refuses to look up. How long he is going to be able to hold out, he has no idea. Hanji is similar to Erwin in a way, never satisfied with what was given on the surface, not when they knew there was something lurking beneath, and they’d be damned if they were just going to let it go. Too intelligent for their own good, the two of them. Sober Levi would be able to manoeuvre his way out of Hanji’s prying with no problem. The same couldn’t be said about Erwin. He was a master at untangling the threads, and Levi would only ever hold out for so long before crumbling. It was with an unexpected delicacy that Erwin would handle the pieces, and more often than not, Levi would be left feeling more whole by the end of it. The man was special in that way.

Fuck. Levi grits his teeth. He clearly hasn’t drunk enough yet.

“You know,” Hanji says, their tone far too light, “Not talking about them doesn’t mean it never happened. If anything, talking about them is the closest thing we can do to keeping them alive.”

It takes all of Levi’s effort to not roll his eyes, but when Hanji gives him a look, he’s not sure he managed after all. It’s not that it’s a bad sentiment, it’s just that Levi can’t feel the same way about it as Hanji does. He tried to. Though admittedly the effort he put in won’t be getting him any gold stars.

He takes another sip of his drink, more of a gulp really, and knows he’s gonna feel it tomorrow. Not that it’ll be any worse than how he feels every other morning when he wakes up and his dreams give way to the nightmare that is reality.

“C’mon…Ready to open up, my lil’ pistachio nut you?” Hanji says, rapping him on the head.

“What the -”

“Maybe you just need a little bit more of the ol’ booze to loosen you up.”

“I can pour my own damn drink,” Levi grunts, grabbing the liquor before Hanji gets a chance to. It’s almost empty already, but Hanji’s come prepared, another bottle at the opposite end of the table just waiting for them.

Hanji’s gearing up to say something, Levi can tell. They’re basically vibrating in their seat with the question fighting to leap off their tongue. Having worked with them long enough now, Levi’s learned all of their tells, and they’re just waiting for the opportune moment to spill it. He knows he’s not going to like what Hanji has to say, but he hasn’t it in him to fight it. Hanji needs to talk just as much as he needs not to. Levi knows this. And so he repeats it over and over in his head, constructing a loud barrier that stops him from telling them to just shut the hell up, and breathes. He can do this. Being down to only one last friend, Levi doesn’t have to divide his limited patience any more, it goes solely to Hanji.

Lucky them.

When they deem the timing right, or when they simply can’t hold it in anymore, Hanji moves in closer as if cautious of others listening in. “You loved Erwin. Didn’t you?”

Levi jerks backwards. A week’s worth of patience couldn’t have prepared him for that.

“Where the hell’d that come from?”

Their eyes light up, and Levi knows straight away they’ve been holding onto that for years. The relief shows like a person making their first bowel movement in weeks, and it fills Levi with a similar disgust.

Hanji seems to try and calm their excitement, smoothing their features until all that’s left is a gentle, pathetic smile that only serves to rub Levi the wrong way. “Your face. Every time someone mentions his name, you look like you’re ready to fall apart.”

What’s Hanji trying to do here? What could they possibly achieve by asking this? Levi readies himself to march right out of the mess hall, but his limbs are heavy with drink and his chest even more so, weighed down by by Hanji’s words.

“What d’ya expect? He was my friend,” he says, his lips barely parting to speak.

“But you wanted more.”

Hanji’s being careful with what they say, as if measuring each and every word before letting it leave their mouth. Levi could tell them to shut up, demand that they leave it be, and they would listen. If he really meant it, Hanji would drop it in an instant. They're annoying. Possibly the most annoying person Levi’s ever met, but they know when they’ve gone too far.

“Why’re you bringing this up now?” Levi asks instead. It’s the damned drink, dissolving all the barriers he has in place, revealing the pitiful part of him curled up at his core. “Even if I did, what would’t’ve mattered?” His tongue feels heavy now too, and the words only weigh it down more.

“We didn’t have time for shit like that. There was never enough time…never the right time… to tell him how I felt,” he said, swallowing to chase away the lump forming in his throat.

“Or … well that’s what I thought.”

Survival had to come first. Feelings could wait until after.

“If I could just go back….Fuck.” He lets out a strained breath. “I’d tell him every single day.”

This is why Levi hates talking about the past, it only stirs up all of the regrets and mistakes that can’t be fixed. There’s no good that can come of it. Hanji gets a good story, some of their theories realised, and all he’s left with is the ever lingering ache.

It’s a bitter thought, so unlike him. He never used to be like this. He was a better man with Erwin. There was so much good in Erwin, even if the man himself didn’t know it, and it was infectious. How could Levi have not been drawn to that? Even so, he’d tried to just watch Erwin from a distance, and is now plagued with memories of having to tear himself away each time he realised how close he’d been moving towards him.

Levi doesn’t want to talk anymore. If he could, he’d sit out the rest of his life in silence, but there’s still shit to do, promises he’s made. Having let Erwin down enough times, he’s got to at least follow through on the last few things he can.

And Hanji’s still here. And it seems they want to talk. It’s why he agreed to drink in the first place.

Levi supposes it’s the least he can do.

But they’re not having another chance to blindside him with another interrogation.

“That’s all you’re getting outta me, shitty four-eyes.” Looking up in what feels like the first time in hours, Hanji looks pleased at the nickname. Thinking back, it’s probably been a while he’s called them that. There hasn’t exactly been a chance for any lightheartedness lately.

He doesn’t know what makes him think of asking Hanji such a question, perhaps some petty revenge, perhaps even genuine curiosity, but he can’t spare it much thought before it slips out:

“And you, what about Moblit?”

Hanji’s smile falters, and it becomes obvious that they understand at least a little why Levi doesn’t like to talk about the people, the friends they’ve lost. Hanji must feel that sharp ache each time they hear their names too. Levi comes to realise that when Hanji drinks, it’s to talk about the past with the alcohol acting as some sort of armour, a shield that can be cleaned away once the hangover wears off.

Everyone has shit to deal with and their own ways of doing it.

“Moblit. My Moblit.” They say, the look on their face new to Levi. But after a few seconds their smile returns, albeit softer.

“I don’t know if it was love. Don’t know if I really feel it like other people do, it’s different. But there’s not a day I don’t think about him. He was so quiet, my complete opposite.” Hanji pauses. Breathes. “But he may as well have been a hurricane for as much as I notice his absence.

Hanji downs the rest of their drink, and seems intent on getting every last drop before they put it down, their eyes somewhere distant now.

“I’m happy for the time we had together. Just wish I could’ve had a little bit more, y’know?”

The silence that settles over them both is heavy, but for once there was something comforting about it, much like a thick blanket in the depths of winter, and the two of them sit there content with sharing the heat. The next drink drains quicker than the ones before, and the following one even quicker than that. The golden liquor feels soft against Levi’s lips, yet sharp as it makes his way down his throat. His vision starts to blur around the edges and wherever he doesn’t choose to focus seems a world away. His head feels light while his body feels heavy. There’s a weight tugging at his chest, but for now it seems a little easier to bear.

There’s no more than a finger’s width of drink left in the bottle now, and Levi can barely remember where it all went. Instead he’s been battling with the same questions calling out over and over in his mind

“What if…what if I’d told Erwin that I…” He swallows. “What d’ya think he would’ve said?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth he wishes he could take them back. Even when Erwin was alive he didn’t allow himself to spare the issue more than a moment of thought, never mind actually speaking it out loud. And what was the point in letting it happen now?

“Look at ya, learning how to open up to a friend!” Hanji says with a heavy pat of their hand on Levi’s shoulder, their voice echoing along the walls. Their joy is short lived, seeming to be quenched when they realised just what Levi’d asked.

“…I dunno, Levi. Erwin was like a closed book. Which was padlocked. And hidden inside a chest which was also locked. And THAT chest was - ”

“ - I get it, Hanji.”

They almost laugh. Levi doesn’t, but he can’t say he doesn’t appreciate the humour. There weren’t many people who even came close to knowing the real Erwin, but Hanji was one who’d been able to understand Erwin in a way. Though sometimes Levi thinks there was more to Erwin than even he knew. And now he’d never get the chance to know.

“But I know one thing for sure. Erwin was fond of you, more than anyone else. Like…really. If that man could fit love inside of that mind of his, can’t imagine it’d be for anyone other than you.”

Levi didn't think it could get even quieter in the mess hall, but somehow it managed it. He gives Hanji a light punch on the arm. Nothing more needs to be said, they’ll know what he means by that. In return he gets a nod, and they both drink some more.

Usually he hates any sort of hustle and bustle, but now Levi finds himself missing the noise and chatter, the life that used to warm the room. A memory bursts alive in his mind of a night years ago, at the same table they’re sitting now. He’d been drinking with the other “veterans”, as the younger cadets had come to call them, after their first successful mission in months. Erwin had sat beside him, which wasn’t anything unusual; it always seemed to end up that way. It was a night of celebration, and Erwin had drunk too much and was unsteady in his seat. Levi still remembers the warmth of Erwin’s arm pressed against his as he drifted off, body bowing down to the drink.

He’d thought of saying something then, but Erwin was dragged off to bed, and when morning came everything was back to normal. The time simply wasn’t right, as usual. But maybe one day. And then the walls came down and everything changed.

Had Levi been making excuses the whole time? Should he have said something despite how wrong it could’ve turned out? Would it have changed anything?

Each question only tears into him a fresh wound

“What does it matter now?” Levi mutters into his glass. The drink absorbs his words and he swallows them down.

Just as he thought - Levi hates drinking with Hanji.

#eruri #Erwin Smith #Levi Ackerman #Hanji Zoe #SNK #shingeki no kyojin #I drink enough that you'd think I'd be able to write drunk people better #sorry but I went for cramming in corny dialogue over realism #I'm an awful writer lol #My next fic is fluff so I needed to write angst #Can't have too much fluff in this fandom #ALL LIES THERE IS NEVER ENOUGH FLUFF #I am just not a good provider of fluff #so I try to give it out in small doses #fanfic

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sansy-fresh · 5 years ago

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Harried and Torn chap. 1

It was a calm day before they showed up. Sans is already kinda done.

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Unethical Experimentation on Children, Bad Science, Eventual Happiness, Angst First tho, Cultural Misunderstandings, Bledgeupuff, Spicykustardpuff

ao3 link

my kofi if you’d like to give me a lil pep up <3 my patreon if you’d like to support what I do <3

He’d been carefully stacking a fairly solid textbook on top of the pile of other fairly thick textbooks when the entire house trembled beneath his feet. It’d been a slow day before that, Papyrus insistent he finally clean up his bookshelf a bit and put all the papers in their proper folders like a real scientist would, because honestly Sans, its like you were raised in a barn .

Sans had… well he’d taken a nap first, since Paps had cooked up a seriously heavy breakfast and salmon dill pancakes always put him right to sleep. He couldn’t help it, really, and while Paps had been fairly lenient about his nap, the moment he squinted his eyes open to check the time he was scooped up and set firmly on his feet, pushed towards the stairs with a pat on the shoulder.

Squaring his thin shoulders, Sans had marched (slumped) upstairs and gone to his room to stare at the bookshelf in question for a few minutes, just to try to get a game plan here. Mostly ‘cause, brothers and sisters and nonbinary pals, it was a mess. Papers stuck out of random paper and or plastic folders, books were stacked in every direction and orientation they could be stacked. All in all it certainly looked like every other research center Sans had ever seen, but maybe his brother had a point.

Ever since coming up to the surface things had been… difficult. What with the things that happened back underground, what with doctors and labs and little kids with the power to mess with the fabric of space and time. It’d been… stressful? To put it lightly. And Papyrus, bless his soul, hadn’t come out of it entirely unscathed either. It had sorta helped that Sans wasn’t alone for all the shit, but the guilt he felt that Paps had gone through any of it overrode any relief he felt.

Because of the “trauma and both mental and emotional health issues” they both suffered, Paps had signed them both up for therapy at an office that was three hours away from New New Home, just so Paps could take a day once a month to drive with the top down and allow the wind to blow through his skull. Sans just wore a warmer jacket those days and hunkered down for the ride. Therapy… helped. Sometimes.

After cracking his knuckles and looking longingly at his bed for a few minutes, he got to work. Papers were pored over and either put in a folder of their brethren or crumbled up and thrown in his increasingly full trash can. Books were stacked until he could figure out the optimum way to put them on the shelves. He’d been at it for a good hour when the house suddenly decided that collapsing on itself was a brilliant way to handle its problems, his carefully stacked tower of books on particle theory and quantum physics toppling over, ruining his good, hard work.

Sans gave himself a moment to mourn, hand over his soul as he mimed wiping a single tear before finally turning to the door that had smoke slowly curling under it. Well. That certainly was a problem. Paps would never forgive him if the house caught fire because of something in the basement, if that’s what had caused this.

He really wasn’t sure, his mind whirring to life as he made his way down the steps through the smoke, a hand holding his shirt up over his mouth. He hadn’t been doing any kind of anything down there, not for months. The machine was down there, he hadn’t been able to leave it underground and while Paps had given him a weird look and avoided the basement after he’d put it back together, it sat in the same spot it had for nearly five years. He hadn’t touched it, hadn’t turned it on, hadn’t even looked at it the few times he went down there to look for a damn wrench for the leaky pipe under the sink.

But yeah, the smoke was near pouring through the open door that lead to the basement which meant that Paps had already gone down there to try and save the house and Sans really needed to hurry.

He wasn’t going to find a pile of dust. He wasn’t.

Almost tripping down the stairs, Sans peered through the dingy, smoke filled room to find the machine in the corner, nearly melted apart. Something like regret twinged in his soul, but he was near instantly looking for his brother before it could really take root. Glancing around, he saw a figure hunched over in the smoke, a white hand waving around as if trying to get the smoke to clear. Sans hurried over, nearly tripping over one of the bodies on the ground as he came to an abrupt stop.

There were actually two bodies, Paps staring down at them with him, and he’d be damned if he didn’t see the resemblance. Two brothers, eyes closed and breathing light, faces scrunched but unconscious to the world. Scars covering every bone Sans could see, the color of them nearly offwhite.

Rubbing a hand over what was left uncovered of his face, Sans gave the machine a withering glare before bending down to haul up the shorter of the two skeletons. Paps followed his lead, picking the taller up in a bridal carry, Sans going with a bit more of a potato sack hold. The other him was a heavy fucker, his bones more dense for whatever stupid reason, but Sans grit his teeth and carried him up the stairs, one step at a time.

As soon as he got the opportunity the other him was dumped on the couch, the little bounce revenge for being so fucking heavy. Turning back to the door, he watched Paps set the taller skeleton lightly on the couch beside his brother. The two seemingly from-an-apparently-shit-universe skeletons were already breathing easier, Paps opening a few of the larger windows to air out the damn smoke.

“I am seeing what I think I’m seeing, aren’t I?” Papyrus asked, standing over the brothers with his hands on his hips. Sans shrugged, staring down at them with a blank expression. It was answer enough, Paps nodding to himself even as he frowned.

Sans knew on a basic level what Paps was thinking. He was feeling guilty that they’d ended up here, that they’d been through whatever they’d been through, that they were stuck with a pair of traumatized fuckers that watched horror movies for fun and ate a lot of pickles because the juice got any and all phantom tastes out of their mouths. Well, maybe that last thought was all him, he’d gotten distracted.

As Paps disappeared into the kitchen, probably to grab a couple water bottles out of the fridge and whatever crackers they had on hand, Sans sat on the coffee table, back to the wonder twins as he put his head in his hands. This whole thing was already giving him a migraine, but that could be the smoke too, couldn’t rule that out.

There was no way to get them home, if they even wanted to. With the machine being pretty much completely destroyed, he’d have to scour dumps all over the damn world to find all the pieces he needed to rebuild it from scratch. They were stuck here, in some random ass universe that could be exactly like their own, or nothing like their own, and Sans was going to have to explain all this when they woke up, fuck.

It took him a second to place what the buzzing sound was, it’d been a while since his last mock fight, but a second later his body was hurling itself to the side, the sound of a bone attack sticking into the wall with a sick thud letting him know a little of what the hell was going on. Otherwise it was kind of a mystery, seeing as how the two brothers were supposed to be unconscious on the couch, not standing in battle positions, hands raised and magic flaring in their eyes.

“Okay buddies, lets just-” A bone flew past his face, nearly clipping his cheek. That fun little brush with death was enough to make him realize that they were confused, probably not in their right minds, and sort of furious? For some reason? So he did what he did best, and kept talking.

“It’s alright, I’m not gonna hurt you.” He took a step back as they slowly, surely moved toward him, though the Papyrus’ sockets had narrowed. They were backing him up against the wall, apparently too used to doing this whole pack hunting thing, which didn’t mean anything good for him but he had to try to stay alive, if only because Paps had wanted to watch Saw 8 soon. Who was he to deny his brother movie night because he’d died like a bitch.

“You’re both safe here, don’t know if you noticed-” A bone was shoved just under his chin, the Papyrus moving too fast to be clearly seen until he was right in front of Sans, bone in his hand and pointed right at Sans’ throat. Swallowing, Sans took a gamble and glanced at his own double, hands calmly at his sides.

“You’re not home.”

The two of them stood there for a moment, potent magic crackling in the air as they stared him down, until the Papyrus moved again, this time grabbing Sans by the scruff of the neck and shoving the bone attack through his shirt, pinning him to the wall.

“You are going to explain where we are, and how we get back, or I will kill you.” The Papyrus spoke with a harsh grind, crimson eyelights flashing with barely contained fury. The Sans was quietly biding his time, but Sans had no doubts about his role in all this. Just as he was about to open his mouth though, the ping of two souls turning blue filled his ears, Papyrus walking into the room with a wide grin on his face.

Sans knew that grin. He knew it intimately, which was unfortunate because that was the smile Paps wore when Sans’d seriously fucked up.

Papyrus moved across the room, striding past the two… furiously confused? skeletons, popping the bone out of the wall and bringing Sans down to his feet before turning to them both, still bearing that terrifying smile.

“Alright, boys, lets talk about etiquette when you’re not in your own universe.”

#fresh writes #Harried and Torn #fontcest #sanscest #papcest #spicykustardpuff #bledgeupuff #angst #hurt/comfort #eventual fluff

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alltheimaginationofme · 6 years ago

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A Different Kind Of Glasgow Kiss- Drew McIntyre

Lil’ bit of Drew loving, not requested but oh so needed!

Tags: @blondekel77 @calwitch @chanelxberlinstark @briqueenofthenorth @fioportella @wrestlingfae @whocares006 @dancefaeirie @ramsaypants @alibob687 @lunarchaosqueen @keepyourdreamsalive @meremaidqueen @demonqueen29

WARNING SMUT AHEAD

P.S: Let me know how I did with it!

Dolph was a pain in the ass. He couldn’t ever keep his hands to himself or his nose out of other people’s business. Since his return, he’d been nothing but trouble for everyone backstage, but he apparently took a liking to me in particular. I think because I didn’t take his shit without giving some back made it a challenge to him.

But where I’m from, you don’t back down.

“Hey sweetness, wanna go for a drink? Or should I say shall we go for a tea break?” Dolph swung himself onto the nearest crate that I was folding clothes on and I rolled my eyes at his attempt at an English dig. Another annoying aspect of Dolph was his relentlessness. Now he KNEW he could get a rise out of me- he never stopped until he did. I collected the pile of clothes and ignored him, turning to another stack that needed my attention. “Comeon babygirl, you don’t need a big red bus- I’ll give you a tour of me for free.” He cackled at his own joke and I cringed, it only ever seemed to be London jokes with him. Dolph jumped from his crate and into the seat that I was going to put clothes in. “You can’t hold out on me forever, I know you. Maybe I should ask my Scottish friend for tips?” He wriggled his eyebrows at me and I sighed.

“Perhaps I should ask your Scottish babysitter to come pick you up, we all know you get annoying when you drink too much Mountain Dew” Dolph grinned in triumph at me and I frowned, I usually lasted longer than that against him. It was whenever he brought up the skulking Scotsman I always tried to end the conversation early. There was something about Drew that I couldn’t shake, he was like kryptonite to me. Obviously the large man was insanely attractive, but whenever he was around me I just seemed to freeze.

I grunted at Dolph’s grinning face “Get outta here Ziggler, some of us have work to do.” Dolph got right up in my space and murmured “And some of us wish that work was on a rather large and heavily accented man.” His face was close to mine, and the temptation to head-butt him was astounding. If I did that, I would lose my job and the game would be up- no doubt Dolph would make a public scene to further add to my discomfort. So I played him at his own game.

“Actually Dolph, I was rather hoping for someone smaller, blonde, shit eating grin… And definitely can’t tell the difference between Dorito orange and sunkissed tan.” I put my hand on his shoulder and pushed past him, laughing as he spluttered for a comeback.

Apparently, Dolph would get his revenge a week later in the form of a wardrobe malfunction. When I arrived to his call I was beyond shocked to learn it wasn’t Ziggler with the problem- it was his partner. My eyes widened when Drew held out his trunks to me and looked almost apologetic. I narrowed my eyes at the trunks, the split was too clean to be wear-and-tear. Dolph snickered in the corner and I sighed, of course he would cut the trunks. “No problem McIntyre, give me 10 minutes tops.” I took the clothing and turned from the room, not giving either man a chance to speak. Dolph would only anger me, and Drew would only make walking away more difficult.

I sat at the sewing station about 3 minutes later and was beginning the repairs on the trunks when someone walked up behind me. It could honestly be anyone in this department, but when I felt someone leaning over my shoulder I bristled. “Repairs for Drew McIntyre.” I didn’t look up from my work and the person was still there when they spoke “Aye love, I came ta see how ya were doin”

I froze. Luckily I was sat down, or else that voice curling around me would’ve made my knees weak. Drew walked to the side of my work station, grabbed a chair from another and sat. He motioned with his hand and I shook myself out of the stupor and began to work again.

The work wasn’t actually difficult, I was just making sure I checked and rechecked everything in front of him- I didn’t want anyone complaining about my handiwork. Drew had sat and watched silently the entire time, and although he was trying his best to be quiet he still cut an imposing figure watching me work.

When I was finished, I held the trunks to him and avoided making eye contact with him. He grunted and stood, towering over me. I felt him hesitate and he took the trunks gently, our fingers stroking as he did so and I shivered. “Thank ya love” His deep timbre vibrated through my body and I nodded, almost closing my eyes at it. I didn’t see his grin as he walked away. I was too busy trying to remain calm after staring at his thighs for the past 5 minutes.

I managed to avoid Dolph for the rest of the night, meaning that I also avoided the Scotsman. It was a relief to be able to get work done without Ziggler bombarding me with cheesy lines, but it also meant that I wasn’t able to ogle Drew either. Clouds and silver linings I suppose.

I couldn’t get Drew’s soft voice out of my head. He spoke with such a harsh accent but made it sound almost melodious when it wrapped around words. The small interactions we had made my mouth water, the size and look of him made my thighs tighten. He had the look of a life ruiner in all the best ways about him.

I rounded the corner with armfuls of clothes and gear when I head Dolph’s laugh. I backed off into the corner and willed myself to not be seen by the irritating Ohioan. “Man, what more can I do for you? I’m annoying her in every way possible and dropping you in every conversation! Ya know she only reacts when I mention you anyway…” Dolph faded into background noise as my face started to become redder. Dolph KNEW he was being an annoying kid! But he was doing it for a reason…

I left it for a while before I came out of my hiding place, walking with a purpose towards my destination- with a lot of questions about what I had just heard. Who the hell had he been talking to?

I got my answer soon enough in the form of Ziggler. From what I had heard, the sweaty orange man had just lost his title and from the defeated sigh and slump into a chair he had lost something else as well. “You’re getting fake tan everywhere Ziggler.” Was my only comment to him. It was odd to see Dolph without his usual bravado about him, and I wanted to feel bad for the title loss but I just couldn’t bring myself to care. He rubbed his hands across his face and looked at me “He’ll kill me for this, but I just lost because of him.”

I raised an eyebrow at the pronoun game, and guessed he was talking about the Scottish Terminator. Dolph leaned forward and shook his hair out of his face. “He likes you. Like, LIKES you. He’s too much of a wimp to say anything.” He smiled sadly at me “I already know you like him too sweetness. I promise I’m not actually this much of an asshat…” He smiled into the distance and stood from the chair. He clapped me on the shoulder as he went past, I had long since stopped folding ring gear into the box. My eyes glazed over and I thought about what Ziggler had said- Drew actually liked me! Me! I smiled to myself, perhaps the awkward McIntyre was explanatory, but it made him adorable to watch me work.

I finished my work for the night with a smile on my face, partly because I was Ziggler free. Mostly because of the secret Dolph had told me, but I was slightly concerned that I hadn’t seen Drew. It was unusual backstage to have one tag partner away from the other in case they made a last minute change to story.

I had been heading out to the car park when I heard him.

“Hey love, ya fancy letting a Scottsman in yer ride?” Drew looked sheepish, his hands stuffed down his front pockets and a few strands of hair hung in his face. I smiled to him and gestured towards the car. He grinned and moved his case towards it. I finished loading up and got in the drivers’ seat, giving him time before I grilled him. I didn’t have time, as Drew had to fold himself into the car to even fit and I burst out laughing. Still chuckling, I reached over his lap and pulled the bar at the side of the chair to slide it backwards for him- Drew had tensed the entire time. I dared to look into his face and dark eyes met my gaze.

I lost my nerve at his look and slowly returned to my seat, starting the car and focusing on driving to the hotel. On the way there I saw Drew look over at me a few times and go to say something, only to purse his lips and look away again. I didn’t want to bring up what Dolph had said, but other than that we hadn’t really spoken before.

We pulled up in the parking lot of the hotel and Drew grabbed the bags from the car while I was checking in. Our rooms were on the same floor. It felt nice walking side by side with Drew, he had this air around him that nobody messed with- he was calm but radiated power. I snuck a peak up at him as we entered the elevator to see he was peeking down at me too. We both laughed and I burned red.

“Drew… What happened with Dolph?” I don’t know what prompted me to suddenly turn so serious, but it tumbled from my mouth before I could stop it. I felt him freeze next to me. He sighed and I ducked my head, wishing I hadn’t said anything to him.

“Ziggler and I… Never really got on. Tha locker room stuff was all we agreed on, and even then my opinion differed.” Drew tucked some hair behind his ears. “He wanted ta be more aggressive. I got tired of being such a bad guy. I still am a bad guy, jus aimed different.” He smiled sadly at me, and I had a feeling that he was giving me the polite version of what happened. I knew that some politics happened backstage, but I was never privy to knowing the details.

Drew’s hand reached out and smoothed my hair out of my face, his fingers lingered on my cheek and I took a breath in. “I kinda want different things now.” My breath stopped altogether at that. There’s no way I could be misreading things, so I went all in.

I had to go on my toes, and even then I wasn’t tall enough to reach his lips- luckily for me he lent down to me and we met halfway. Drew’s beard tickled my face and his lips were a soft contrast to the hair, caressing mine in a dance that saw me loose but I still ended up with his tongue in my mouth. Drew’s hands could completely cover half of my face, but he cradled my head and was so gentle like I was something he was scared to break. The doors opened and we broke the kiss for me to ask one question:

“Your room or mine?”

Drew smiled “Whicheva we get to first.” I grinned back at him and grabbed his hand. Yes I ran down the hall and he barely got past a speed walk with his legs, but I doubt anyone would laugh at us right now. My room appeared first and I thanked God when we came upon it, I was shoving the card in every direction at the lock for it to open while Drew kissed down my neck. “You’re not helping here” I was breathless, and not from the brief sprint.

When the door finally opened, Drew picked me up from behind and carried me into the room- somehow managing to drag the bags in after us. I was thrown on the bed and promptly began to undress. It seemed Drew liked the competition as he raced me to get down to nothing.

I stopped as Drew was taking his trousers off. The man was thicker than a tree and endless apparently. The situation dawned on me, I was about to get into bed with a guy that I had been crushing on for months.

Drew took me in his arms and wrapped himself around me. He kissed me softly and smiled down at me “This’ll only go as far as ya want it.” My own smile turned playful and I stepped closer to him “And how much do you want it Drew?” My smile soon disappeared as he took my hand and placed it over his boxers, onto his cock that did not disappoint. I licked my lips and kissed him. Drew took that as his confirmation and picked me up to put me on the bed.

“Ah, can’t wait to be inside ya” I noticed his accent got thicker the more turned on he was, and suddenly the accent that made me weak in the knees had me wetter than a cup of water. I pulled his face back down to me as he settled between my legs. His tongue explored my mouth and I rose from the bed to meet his hips. Drew started to trail his mouth down my neck and found a particular spot before grinding his hips down into me. The feeling of him made me rake my nails down his back, the moan he let out in reply vibrated through me.

His mouth had made its way down to my chest and his hands could cover the entirety of my small amount of boob to offer. Drew’s tongue circled a nipple whilst his hand massaged the other. I moaned up into his touch when he began to suck on one and my hands ran down to his last article of clothing- I tugged on the waistband.

Drew’s face moved back up to mine and he looked into my eyes. He seemed to be searching for something, and when I met his gaze the entire time he smiled. We rolled apart and stripped the last bits of clothes covering ourselves. My thong had just dropped to the floor when Drew’s arm wrapped around my waist again and dragged me onto the bed.

I landed underneath him and he settled between my legs again. “Ah would love to be slow…” As he spoke he dragged a finger through my folds and made me whimper. “I think we both need this.” He spoke with finality and I reached up to bite his lip. He kissed me with his full force and I felt myself get pushed back into the bed. The fact that he would be in me doing that soon was enough to make me lightheaded.

Drew rolled his hips and guided the tip of his cock in my folds, coating it before he found my entrance. I held my breath. With another roll that screamed experience he pushed inside me. I arched up and moaned in his ear, the feeling of being stretched yet perfectly full made me gasp. No one else had ever felt like this to me. I doubt there had ever been anyone as big as Drew was either. When he was fully in me he groaned and hung his head.

I became impatient underneath him and rocked my hips into his, Drew cursed and began to pump slowly. We both began to moan in tandem as he picked up his pace, our kissed became sloppy and open mouthed. Each time I came out for air his lips found mine to steal it again. Even with all of this going on, I still felt the need to tease.

“Go harder, I’m not going to break Drew.”

I whispered them into his ear and he growled, the look of passion gone from his face. His hands grasped my hips and turned me over onto my stomach. My face was stuffed into the mattress, and before I could say anything, Drew was pounding into me with renewed vigour. Each time he bottomed out my hips were pushed further into the bed, and I could’ve swore at one point I was bowed with the force he put into it.

It wasn’t a surprise that I didn’t last long with the enthusiasm he was putting in, but when I did come it was a shock. I screamed until my throat was sore and it went black behind my eyes. Drew was relentless, not stopping until I went lax on the bed. He stuttered after one thrust and grit out through his teeth “Where do ya want it”. I managed to lift my head and look over my shoulder to whisper “Inside” He grunted his approval and I dropped my head again, my hands gripping the sheets as he continued. I could hear him taking deep breaths now, trying to last longer.

Drew came with a shout and dug his teeth in my shoulder blade, slamming in with finality. I cried out at the feel of his bite and the come slowly spreading into me. Drew’s arms were shaking as he rolled to his side and began to cuddle me from behind. I felt exhausted. Before I could fully drift into sleep I thought would tease him once more. “I could get used to those kind of Glasgow kisses.” I felt him chuckle behind me.

“Aye love, I’ll wake ya up with one.”

#drew mcintyre #drew #WWE #WWE Raw #wwe smut #monday night raw #dolph ziggler #wwe imagine #drew galloway #mcintyre #imagines #Wrestling #wrestling imagine

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finsterhund · 5 years ago

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This con is big but not too nice.

I like the accessible washroom of the building

I like how spaced the artist tables are. But geez.

Artists are upset about the crappy wooden tables, people are talking about the artists who got banned for complaining about getting scammed out of their second table.

The artists here are great though. I wish the con cared more about them. Lots of people I know here. Many I already commissioned. I'm not going to get a second commission from someone if I haven't scanned and uploaded the one I got from them previously. Doesn't seem right.

I commissioned an artist who it was their first con, and I have an artist I want to commission online later.

I had to pay extra money for the sky train to refill my card. Would have been nice if the one lording it over us about having a car would actually have helped us today with said car but I think maybe we need to give those poor cyclists a break (okay, maybe I'm being a bit too petty with this now)

The pain medicine keeps me feeling okay. I love cosplaying as Andy again. Maybe in the winter months I'll get new converse so they're not hurting my legs and back. I need them up one size that's a big reason why cosplaying as Andy hurts.

I wish I wasn't so hot I hate sweating. I wish I was healthy and that I could finally finish my cosplay. Someday. I finally get to see a specialist soon. Hoping that puts me on the road to finally having normalcy and a body that at least tries to work properly.

My friend reminded me that we first made my cosplay when I was still ten pounds underweight so the fact that my shorts are tighter on me than usual shouldn't be too unexpected. My back flaring up definitely contributes to it too. I think a big chunk of me thinking I'm an ugly lump is not because of things like diet and more just my body being the unfortunate way it is. Thanks to bad genetics and scar tissue I'm bottom-heavy and no amount of fixing my diet is going to change that. I'm the Danny Devito of Andys. But admittedly the bad situation of July likely made it more noticable. I hate being a thicc boy. I meme about being the designated "fat kid who dies first" but I'm actually sensitive about it.

For how expensive it is to buy a single pass and a falling apart table here, this con has no internet for artists. But that's consistent. Was that way the last few years too. Funny how the cons that cost less and come with the right number of badges and a clean table also have free internet for the artist alley.

To be honest as much as I love all the artists and attendees here and being more likely to be recognized as Andy I really do not like this con.

The art of Andy I got from the first convention attendee artist is very cute. Crisp black and white inks so it'll scan well and I can't wait to share. But no internet!

There's an artist who does custom buttons but they're unlike any buttons I've ever seen. They are wrapped in an acrylic casing instead of punched around a metal piece. I want to get an Andy button from them. That reminds me I haven't scanned any of my custom Andy buttons.

Someone offered the take a photo of me against a banner but I didn't feel good enough. I probably should have taken them up on the offer but I just felt yuck.

The only video game sellers did not have PS1 games which actually angered me lmao.

Sales aren't good I think.

I'm sweating real bad. So glad I got a bath last night and brought my deodorant. Good god. Where's the AC? It's days like these I wish Andy ran around the Darkland barefoot so I could get out of wearing socks. I expell so much heat through my feet and hands I don't want to eat my chocolate snacks I brought for fear they will melt all over my fingers.

I went outside to bring my friend back a coffee (I can do this all by myself because of how close it is hurray!) But as soon as I went back in I started to sweat again.

I found a friend lined up in front of the ATM. We talked. It was nice to see them again. I found another friend elsewhere and also the first friend came around later. Was fun.

WHY DOES NO ONE KNOW HOW TO USE DEODERANT? I WANT TO DIE. I have had to walk behind people who smell like absolute death and it's made me feel really gross. Here I am concerned about a little sweat and there's people who you'd think are UNDEAD because of how the scent of ?????? trails behind them for like ten feet. You can smell when they pass behind you. I want to throw up.

I got some more art. The Andy button I was interested in, found someone else to commission something digital. The Andy button is AMAZING. I LOVE IT SO MUCH. it's hard to clip it closed but it's so cool and it opens so I can scan the art inside.

I got stickers from my friends I wanted to get, and a secret gift for Fishy made by my friend Sam. I intend to make a care box (is that the word?) cuz I know your birthday is coming up this month.

My stickers already got scuffed on my new folder so I'm sad. I hate being a bumbler who bumps things.

There was an artist who drew dogs but I couldn't find them again :(

I think I made a new friend. He is super cool and does panels at vancoufur. His fursona also wears a bandanna.

I feel a lot better about pain medicine. My friend says I could be able to take it every day and I just need to be careful not to take too much. I know people like me run the risk of becoming immune to them and having a sick liver but he says as long as I don't take too many it's fine.

Is this why I'm so miserable all the damn time!?

Legit what if that's the problem?

So I'm feeling pretty good about that. You guys might see a brand new Finsterhund. I'm so excited to have energy and feel comfy again. I was raised with fear mongering of "only using pain medicine when it was worse than usual. Because it'd kill you." But all that is untrue and I've been suffering needlessly this whole time.

So yeah. Now I'm going to start taking them bi daily. As well as the ones to help me sleep.

Genuinely feeling good about this. Andy cosplaying! Pain relief! It's all here! Things finally looking up for lil ol me.

I'm budgeting this con better too. Half of that is because I'm getting lost and can't find artists i wanted to commission again but that's a side effect of my worsening memory. I want to get a small ocarana but I might not be able to afford it by the end. It'd be nice to play Andy's Mission on. That way it won't annoy my friend like a kazoo would. Even though he said my kazoo is fine and he wouldn't have given it to me if it wasn't.

There's more artists I wish I could commission but I'm trying to be careful.

I was very hungry and they had hotdog rollers right outside the con and I really wanted one and they were SIX DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS. That's awful. But I got one because I was so hungry. It tasted good at least.

There's an hour and a half left of the day. I don't know what we will do after. I don't want to socialize except with my friends and if I go to bed early I'll be up at 4AM again.

There's now a little under an hour left and I'm tired. Wanting to go back to the hotel room and relax. I'm disappointed in myself for buying the expensive hotdog.

Whisky has been shedding since I brushed him and part of me is all AAAAAAAAAA but the other part is all "this would definitely have been canon."

My friend left his table under my care for the last twenty minutes of the day and I'm kinda anxious. I'm scared that ex roommate "took revenge" on my stuff back at the hotel room. He's never done stuff like that before, but he has threatened to. I also have that sense of emptyness inside that I get sometimes. The one where you just feel bad, no reason to, just emotionally hurt.

#text post #long post #so ends day one #I'll post photos of the art when I get back to the hotel room

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gripefroot · 4 years ago

Text

Safe House

Bucky’s eyes are squeezed shut as your practiced fingers rove over him - a stream of curses starts to fall from his lips with an answering whimper from you. He won’t be able to hold back much longer - he can’t - he -

A shove, and a snap. He bites his tongue, drawing the irony taste of blood as his eyes water, and your hands leave his shoulder.

“Ow,” he whispers, eyes burning with unshed tears. His left ear is ringing something awful - it’s fortunate you’re on his right, because otherwise he’d be full-on deaf to whatever you’re saying.

“One injury fixed, a dozen left to go,” you tell him wearily. Bucky lifts his head from the back of the chair he’s been sitting backwards in - he tilts his face back to observe you leaning on one foot against the doorway to the tiny living space, lips pressed close together and your usual smile absent. You look about as fantastic as he feels - meaning, not at all.

“Your turn,” he grunts.

“Don’t remind me.”

Bucky pushes himself tenderly to his feet - his movements are slow and laborious, but yours are, too - it had been quite the mission, and while the sustained wounds are worse than usual, he supposes he should be grateful you’re both alive, and that Stark had had a safe house nearby. Not that Stark will appreciate the blood, dirt and other nasties your boots and his have dragged in.

Limping to the counter, his eyes focus and unfocus on the half-spilled bucket of first aid supplies. Wiggling his right fingers, much better now that his shoulder is back in place but still sore - Bucky glances back at your face, and picks up some gauze and hydrogen peroxide. The bloody nose and fat lip are definitely the worse looking, but from the way you’re cradling your left calf, he can guess what he needs to go for first.

He limps back to the rickety chair as you gently lower yourself to sit - collapsing with a groan and a wince.

“Should’ve taken your pants off first, babe,” Bucky sighs. “I can’t work around them.”

“Take them off yourself.” With your eyes closed, head leaning back slightly - you’re clearly half-out of it with pain. Dropping the supplies to the ground, Bucky pulls out his only remaining knife, (and he hopes Hydra appreciates the quality of the knives he’d left behind in the rush to escape), and slides the blade beneath the torn and bloody gash on your leg to slice off the fabric at your knee. It sticks to all the blood, and gently he pries it off.

“I hate this,” you mumble after a minute, when he’s finally gotten the garment off the stab wound, pooling around the top of your dirty boots.

“I know, babe,” Bucky says sympathetically. “But just think - you can take revenge on me next. I think I broke a few ribs.”

“I don’t wanna take revenge.” Your words slur slightly slightly. “I wan’us to be happy together.”

“We will be,” he assures you. “If we get better quick, this safe house is pretty private…” Bucky trails off, grinning to himself although he knows you can’t see. You do give a snort, however, and then wince.

“I’ve already taken one pounding,” you muse, as he dumps some peroxide on the gash - it froths, and you nearly yelp, eyes shooting open.

“Sorry, sorry,” Bucky apologizes quickly, already mopping up the liquid. “It’s a shallow cut, babe. You got lucky.”

“I sure don’t feel lucky.”

“And you’re extra lucky because you’re here with me, and my excellent nursing skills.” With all the blood cleaned away, the cut really does look better - Bucky tears off some gauze with his teeth, and starts winding it around your calf.

“What nursing skills?” you ask with amusement. “Outdated tips you flirted out of the nurses during World War II?”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Bucky asks indignantly. Tying off the gauze into a tidy knot, he yanks it tight - and you laugh and give a strangled cry at the same time, your hand flying down to swat his away. Your eyes are bright now - but a little too bright, he judges. Reaching up to hold your chin in his hand, he frowns as he watches the pupils of your eyes widen and shrink - and he sighs.

“Let me find some pain meds,” he says, and stands back up. Immediate mistake - his middle insides scream at the treatment, and his ankle throbs.

“Bucky - ” you start, but he shakes his head as he gnaws on the inside of his mouth. Gotta take care of you first. He fumbles at the counter for...yes, that looks right, and there are bottles of water in the refrigerator. Bucky slumps back to you, passing them over and pointedly ignoring your narrowed look.

You take the pills, and drink half the bottle. Then pass the rest to him, which he downs in three seconds flat.

“You again,” you tell him, and grip onto the edge of the kitchen counter to hoist yourself to one foot.

It goes back and forth for nearly an hour. You wrap his bruised and protruding ribs, he gets ice for your nose and lip, you bind up his ankle, he finds applesauce and tins of miniature wieners in a cupboard, and you wipe all the dried blood on his face from his burst eardrum. Your gentle touch is almost distracting from all the pain, and Bucky tries to focus on that, instead. It sort of works. Mostly doesn’t.

A buzz on the counter - the burner phone. You’re closest to answer it, and listen for a minute with a pinched expression as Bucky curls himself over the back of the chair with a wince.

The safe house stinks like mothballs. The carpet is outdated, and the air conditioner squeaks. But it’s safe, or so Bucky assumes.

“Ok, thanks Stark.”

Bucky rolls his head back to you - half your combat gear still hanging on, and the other half discarded onto the floor (and not in the fun, exciting way, either) - as you set down the phone.

“They’ll be extracting us in four hours,” you sigh, rubbing your eyes. “He didn’t think this safe house would ever be used, so there’s no vehicle available.”

Bucky groans, holding out a hand for the tin of wieners - you pass it to him, and he tries very hard to be grateful for something to fill the gnawing hunger in his gut. He gets hungrier when he’s wounded. It’s just a fact.

“Gross,” you say.

“I’m hungry,” he says plaintively.

“So am I, but not that hungry.” A flicker of a smile - that’s good - and Bucky grins back as best he can as he slurps up the last wiener. “I never thought I’d say this,” you tell him after a moment. “But you should really put a shirt on. You look terrible.”

“Wow, babe.”

“Just being hon - ”

“Shh!” Bucky stops chewing, tilting his head to the side as his eyes widen - glancing around the teeny kitchen, into the sliver of living area he can see - little padding steps, and he stands heavily from the chair, setting down the tin as quietly as he can.

“Oh, come on,” you mumble softly behind him. “Not now.”

He has that knife, which tightens in his grip as he limps over towards the front door - a single shaft of sunlight is coming through the crooked frame, and before he can do more than yelp in surprise -

A flap at the bottom of the door flips open, and an orange tabby cat streaks inside with a yowl of surprise to see, well, people.

“A kitty!” you coo.

“Get out,” Bucky growls at it.

“Oh, be nice,” you say in a scolding tone, and before he can scold you back into sitting down, you’ve hopped on your good foot into the living space, and immediately the cat pads over to you, meowing as if in complaint of Bucky’s inhospitality. “I didn’t know there was a caretaker here,” you croon at the cat, reaching down to stroke its ears. Bucky listens a moment longer, and then slides the knife back into his belt.

“Some caretaker,” he snaps. “This place stinks.”

“It’s nondescript,” you point out, lowering yourself gingerly onto the ratty couch. Immediately the cat leaps up beside you, and crawls into your lap.

“It’s gross.”

“It’s better than walking back to New York.”

“Fine. But I’m leaving a bad review on - what is it?”

“Yelp,” you offer.

“Yeah. That thing.” Another glare for the cat, and Bucky turns sit down as well. On your left, because his ear is still ringing painfully.

It stinks. The entire situation stinks. Can’t even pounce on you like he wants - no one else is around, and he can’t even take a full breath or walk straight. His head lolls against the back of the couch, and Bucky sighs at the ceiling.

“What else did Stark say?” he asks peevishly.

“Not much.” You’re quiet for a moment, fingers buried in the cat’s fur as you shift your weight to stretch your wounded leg out. “Didn’t even say thanks for planting that virus on that Hydra server,” you sigh.

“Typical Stark.”

“You did great back there, by the way,” you tell him, and he glances over to see your smile - he stomach does a funny turn unrelated to his broken ribs, and he grins back without thinking.

“Thank you,” Bucky says with unnecessary grace. “So did you, babe.”

“Ugh, I got stabbed.”

“All the best agents get stabbed.”

“You didn’t.”

“Not today,” he says fairly. “But I did get an entire desk thrown at my head. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

A tired laugh. “Right.”

Absently Bucky reaches over, and starts scritching the kitty’s ears. It pricks up its head, and regards Bucky curiously. “Don’t get any wrong impressions,” he tells the cat severely. “I’m just checking for electric bugs or cameras.”

“Sure, Bucky,” you say.

The cat stands, and crawls over the couch to Bucky, planting its paws on his thigh to reach up and sniff at his chin with interest.

“Ugh,” Bucky wrinkles his nose as he pets down the kitty’s neck. “Gross.”

“I like cats.” Your tone is conversational as you continue to scratch its back. “Maybe I’ll get one, someday.”

The cat licks at one of the bruises on his cheek, and Bucky groans. “Ew.”

“You’d better watch it,” you tease. “If you keep complaining too much, I’ll know for sure that you’re secretly hiding your deep and abiding love of all felines.”

“Not even funny, babe.”

“It’s pretty funny.” Your head is resting against the back cushions beside his, and Bucky leans over with a smile. “You’re always pretending to be gruff and tough,�� you say softly. “But you’re as fluffy as this cute lil kitty.”

“Don’t tell anyone.” Bucky sticks out his lower lip, and you giggle. The cat starts at the sound, and leaps back into your lap, nuzzling into your elbow.

“That you’re one of the best men I’ve ever known?” you ask, quirking brow. “Okay, Bucky. Whatever you say.”

A warm, glowy feeling is spreading through his chest - again, not from the rib situation, and he doesn’t have the words to reply to you. After another minute, you scoot lay on your back lengthwise, your injured leg propped up on Bucky’s lap as the cat snuggles into your side and closes its eyes. Carefully he unties the laces of your combat boots, and tosses them away.

“I’m gonna rest until the team comes,” you mumble with a yawn.

“Okay. I’ll keep a lookout in case this little menace here turns out to be on Hydra’s payroll.”

A snort. “Okay, Bucky. Whatever you say.”

And a few minutes later - it’s just snoring in the little shack of a safe house. The kitty’s tail twitches, your lips fall open with deep breaths, and Bucky passes out cold and completely forgets his promise to be on guard.

Oh well.

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bamby0304 · 7 years ago

Text

She Howls I: Awaken

Summary: There’s nothing extraordinary about Angela’s life… until she joins her brother and best friend for a walk in the woods at the dead of night. After getting bitten by a mysterious beast, things begin to drastically change. Now she can do things she’s never been able to do before. But with the change comes complications, like hunters, monsters and a whole lot of secrets…

Gif found on Google

Chapter Sixteen: The Alpha

Masterlist

Warnings: A lil’ bit of violence.

Bamby

Despite all the issues in my life right now, I couldn't fight the contagious adrenaline rush of the game. It had been going so well and before I knew it, it was over. Our team had won.

The smile on my face was irremovable. I was in such a good mood, that just for a second it didn't matter that Stiles and Derek hadn't called me back. Or Jackson might out Scott's secret and put his life in danger. Or that the hunters were hot on my brother's tail. Or that the Alpha was still out there. Or that my mum might be the bad guy. Or that I had a pile of homework that was due soon...

I just felt too good to be brought down.

After the game had finished and the crowd had dispersed, I told mum I'd meet her at home. She had no problem with it and simply nodded before I'd gone off to head for the boys' locker room. As I walked down the hall, most of the team were headed in the opposite direction, already cleaned up and ready to go celebrate their victory. But I knew there would still be a few stragglers who may very well be changing... but it's not like I hadn't walked into the locker room unannounced before... and I didn't actually care.

Walking into the locker room, I headed straight for Scott, ignoring the few shirtless guys. Cat calls and comments were thrown about, but it was all harmless banter. They were used to seeing me here. It wasn't the first- or last- time I'd been in the locker room. Even Coach let me get away with it every now and then. I guess people just understood that Scott, Stiles and I came in a pack.

"Hey, Angela." Danny offered a kind smile as he walked towards the exit.

I smiled back at him. "Hey, Danny." Continuing on, I moved to lean against the locker next to Scott's giving him my biggest grin. "You're goin' state."

He blushed as he got ready to leave. "Yeah."

My smile grew, my eyes crinkling in the corners. "I'm so proud of you."

I was too. Scott had always wanted to be on the team. Now he had it all, and I couldn't be happier for him.

Falling silent, I stood there as he finished packing up and getting ready. Before long we were the only ones left. Seconds after the door closed behind the last person, the lights flicked off leaving us in the dark.

Pushing away from the locker, I extended my claws in an instant. "Stay behind me." I told Scott, prepared for anything.

Honestly, I knew there was a higher chance of it being the guys playing a trick on Scott. But with everything that had been going on lately, I wasn't going to risk it. Last time we were at the school at night we were hunted down by the Alpha, who made Scott turn so he'd try to kill his friends. I so wasn't going to risk it.

Moving away from the lockers, knowing Scott was right behind me like I told him, I headed for the light switch. Lifting my clawed hand, I tried to turn the lights back on, but nothing happened. The power had been cut.

Turning back, Scott and I scanned the room, looking at the ground, in every corner, and up at the ceiling. Then, out from around the showers, a ball rolled across the floor. Keeping Scott behind me still, I carefully moved towards it, claws still extended. Scott wasn't as prepared, but he was just as suspicious.

When I neared the corner, I took a deep breath, praying that nothing would jump out at us, before I took the last step. I felt everything in me melt at the sight of Derek standing at the other end of the showers, partially covered by the shadows.

"Thank God." I let out a breath moving towards him, relaxing more and more with each step.

"Where the hell have you been?" Scott asked, just a few steps behind me. "Do you have any idea what's been going on?

But instead of responding, Derek's eyes flickered to something behind us.

Pausing, a few steps away from him, I slowly turned. What I saw made my stomach drop and my head spin.

Standing at the entrance of the showers, holding a lacrosse stick as he examined it with confusion, was none other than Peter. Peter Hale. The supposedly comatose guy who couldn't blink, let alone talk, let alone walk and stand and move about like a real freaking human being.

"I really don't get lacrosse." He frowned at the stick, turning it over in his hands.

Scott's jaw dropped. "It was you…"

"When I was in high school, we played basketball." Peter looked up then, his eyes landing on Scott and me. "There's a real sport." The way he was talking was so normal… it was surreal.

The whole thing was surreal. Seeing him, standing there… even the fact he was now wearing a leather coat, and a dark grey button up shirt, and dark pants, and shoes. I was so used to seeing him in his hospital clothes. But the weirdest thing of all, was the fact that his scar was gone. Yeah, that's right. The burn marks that had covered half his face were now completely gone.

"Still, I read somewhere that lacrosse comes from Native American tribes and that they played it to resolve conflict." He raised the stick to his shoulder. "Do I have that right? Well…" Shrugging as if it didn't matter, he moved on. "I have a little conflict of my own to resolve." He put the stick down, turning his gaze to us again. "But I need both of your help to do it."

"We're not helping you kill people." Scott told him, voice hard.

I edged closer to my brother, standing by his side, feeling the need to be there to protect him if anything were to happen.

"Well, I don't want to kill all of them. Just the responsible ones. And that doesn't have to include…" Pausing, he thought about it for a moment before looking to Derek.

"Allison." Derek answered his uncle's questioning look.

My heart stopped beating as I slowly looked away from Peter until my eyes landed on Derek. "You're… you're with him?"

"Are you forgetting the part where he killed your sister?" Scott asked, just as shocked- but not as hurt- as I was.

"It was a mistake." Derek responded flatly.

Scott shook his head. "What?"

Derek finally met my brother's gaze then. "It happens."

"Scott. Angela." Peter drew our attention to him again. "I think you're getting the wrong impression of us. We really just want to help you reach your full potential." He sounded so genuine. I swear, if I didn't know better, I would have believed him.

"By killing our friends." Scott said the words no one else was willing to say.

"Sometimes the people closest to you can be the ones holding you back the most." Peter noted.

"If they're holding us back from becoming a psychotic nut job like you, we're okay with that." Scott assured him.

"Maybe… you could try and see things…" Peter sighed, lifting his hand as he moved closer to us, extending his claws, "from my perspective."

The move was so fast I didn't have a chance to react.

His hand reached for and around Scott, claws stabbing into the back of Scott's neck. Scott's eyes rolled back as he gasped for air, falling to his knees.

I went to reach for him, but froze when Peter turned to me. Straightening up, I tried to calm my beating heart as I glared at him. "What did you do?"

He took a step closer to me, claws still extended. "I don't want to have to do this to you, Angela. I've enjoyed your company over the last week. I don't want to spoil any of that."

I backed up, keeping my eyes on him, knowing that if I looked away he'd do to me what he did to Scott. "I think you spoiled it when you started killing people."

"They deserved it." Was his only argument.

"Fine, okay, I can understand your anger. But why make Scott try to kill his friends? What do you get out of that? They've done nothing to you."

"No." He agreed. "But they are in my way. Without them, you and your brother will be alone. You'll join the pack."

Having been backing up slowly this whole time, I felt myself press against the shower wall. I was stuck now, with nowhere to run. But despite my fear spiking, I still held my ground and tried to be strong. "You can kill everyone I've ever met, and all you'll do is feed my hate. You're a monster, and I hate you, Peter."

Instead of reacting the way I thought he would, he simply grinned. "Your heart rate increased at the words, 'I hate you'." He took the last step towards me, so there was barely a breath between us. "You can't fool me, Angela."

My eyes darted to Derek in the hopes that he would save me, but in that moment, he looked away from me. In that moment, Peter took the opportunity to reach around and stab his claws into the back of my neck.

I felt the air being pushed out of my lungs as my burn screamed as if it was on fire. I tried to call out for help, but found nothing coming out as my body gave in, landing on the ground in a heap with a loud thud.

Images flashed before my eyes. Emotions ran through me so fast I could barely register them. I recognised nothing. It was all a blur of unfamiliar faces… at first. Then everything settled.

I saw Peter, in a basement. I saw liquid being thrown into the windows of the basement, the smell of gasoline filling and burning my nose. Then I saw the match right before my vision was filled with the bright and blinding light of hot flames.

Screams and cried filled my ears. People begging for help. People dying. Then they were replaced by one voice, one scream. Peter's scream.

Pain. Grief. Anger. Confusion. Rage. So much rage.

I could feel everything he felt after the fire. How helpless he felt. How hopeless he felt. How he desperately wanted revenge.

The faces of people who had died flashed before my eyes. The reason why he killed each one finally explained. It all made sense. They were all a part of the fire.

Then it all disappeared, replaced by an image of a window, the full moon shinning bright outside.

Peter lay in a bed, looking up at a moon. Slowly, he rose, the night giving him enough strength and power to get up and leave. He wandered through the forest aimlessly, clumsily, as if he was sleep walking.

A woman neared him. It took a moment, but I eventually realised who she was. Derek's sister.

She reached for him, but he turned to her, still moving as if on autopilot. His mouth opened wide, fangs extended, eyes glowing red. And then he lunged, ripping into her. Killing her.

I sat up with harsh and painful gasp.

Scott was right there, kneeling on the ground by me, holding my head in his lap protectively. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm here." He assured me.

Suddenly Stiles came rushing around the corner, breathing heavily as if he'd ran a marathon. "Dudes, we have a huge problem."

"Trust me…" Scott sighed, looking down at me. "We know."

Lying in bed at night, I couldn't stop tossing and turning. Eventually I just gave up, went downstairs, grabbed the ice-cream out of the freeze, placed myself in front of the TV, and stayed there until the sun came up. When mum came down early in the morning I'd just finished the whole container of chocolate fudge and caramel swirl ice-cream.

Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, mum looked at me with a surprised and confused frown. "Hi?"

"Hey." I answered back, a light smile tugging on my lips. "What's up?"

"Was gonna ask you the same thing." Watching me sceptically, she walked over to the couch. "How long have you been up?"

I glanced at the clock before shrugging. "All night."

Her jaw dropped. "All night?"

"Yep." I nodded, popping the 'p'.

"You okay, sweetie?"

"Fine." I shrugged again as I scraped at the bottom of the ice-cream container, trying to get the last drops.

"Angela?" She didn't sound so convinced. Stepping up to me, she took the container away which made me look up at her, pouting. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, mum. I'm fine." I smiled, unfolding my legs from underneath me before standing. "I'm gonna make some tea. You want some?" Without waiting for her to answer, I head into the kitchen

Scott was out with Stiles all day. Mum was at work. The vet clinic was closed. It was the weekend, so no school. Derek had turned to the dark side. Turns out Peter had been evil all along. It didn't take long to finish my homework. And I had no other friends. So, my day was pretty ordinarily boring.

I stayed at home, moving about, cleaning so mum wouldn't have to later. I stuck to the first floor for most of the day. Dusting, vacuuming, sweeping, even polishing. I cleaned everything and every surface I could find. All the while, I danced to some music, sung a few songs, and never stopped smiling. Hours passed by so quickly I didn't even realise it was the afternoon until mum came through the front door.

Her own smile faultered as her eyes scanned the place. "You cleaned the house."

"Uh-huh."

"The whole house?"

"Well, not yours or Scott's room. But everywhere else, yeah." I shrugged.

The grateful look that had been edging onto her face fell completely, replaced by the concerned look only a mother can give. "Sweetie, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, mum." I chuckled lightly. "Seriously, I'm fine." I insisted as I turned to head for the kitchen.

She was right behind me. "Sweetheart, do you remember the last time you cleaned the house like this?" When I shook my head, she went on. "It was when your father left." I stopped dead in my tracks, the thought of my father making me feel both emotionally and physically ill. "In fact, since you were little, you've always coped with your problems by cleaning." She noted.

"I always clean. I like cleaning." I countered, voice small, because I knew the truth. I knew what she was going to say next.

"Yeah, you do. But you're not always like this. Sleepless nights, scrubbing everything…" Walking around to stand in front of me, she tilted her head so she could meet my eyes. "I know something's wrong."

It was like something snapped inside me. My happy energy burned away as I slowly rose my eyes to look into hers.

Smile falling, tears forming, I felt the emotional dam inside me broke. "Mum…"

Not needing to hear anything else but the desperation and pain in my voice, mum stepped forward and wrapped me in a tight hug. She didn't let go. She just stood there, rocking me gently, her hand stroking my hair as she let me cry into her shoulder.

"So, this guy…" Mum handed me one of the cups of hot chocolate she was carrying, before setting herself on the other end of the couch holding the other cup. "How serious was it?"

Without saying a word, I brought the mug to my lips to take a sip, my eyes meeting hers to communicate everything through a look.

"Ah." She nodded, understanding. "That serious."

Lowering the mug, I shook my head lightly. "We weren't officially anything. We never talked about it. Honestly, it just kinda happened. One moment we were friends, and then…" I left the sentence hanging, not needing to finish it.

"Do I know him?"

"No."

"Does Scott?"

"Yes."

"Does Scott know about the two of you?"

Hesitating a moment, I guiltily looked to the pink marshmallows floating in my drink. "No one knows."

Standing in the kitchen with mum before had surprising helped me. Crying and letting the truth out was kind of therapeutic. I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

Of course, I hadn't told her everything. I only told her the fact that I was having guy problems. Which I was. I was having a lot of guy problems.

"You think you can give the cleaning a break for a bit? I know something else you can do to keep busy." A small smile tugged on her lips.

"What?" I asked, trying not to sound as hopeful and I felt.

"I could use some help choosing something to wear tonight."

Frowning, I shook my head lightly, confused. "What's happening tonight?"

Her smile grew then, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "I'm going on a date."

Sitting on mum's bed, I fiddled with the spoon in my bowl that sat in my lap. I'd been helping mum get ready, using it as a distraction, but I'd also been keeping ice-cream as company. It was the perfect comfort food. As we'd moved about, we chatted away, and I of course asked as many questions about her date as I could. Turns out, she didn't know much about him. But that's to be expected when you've only just met.

"Please tell me he's at least good looking." I grinned, as I watched her do her makeup at her dresser.

"Good looking doesn't even come close."

I couldn't help but laugh in response, shaking my head lightly.

When she suggested I help her get ready for a date, I thought she was insane. I thought for sure my mood would just plummet. After losing the guy I liked, I didn't exactly want to think about any kind of relationship stuff. But, helping her had actually helped me.

Laughing, dancing a little, talking, keeping busy. It all helped me not think about wallowing. It helped keep my mind off of Derek- and everything else that was wrong in my life.

"So, how do I look?"

My smile grew as she stood and turned to me, showing off her outfit. In the end, she settled on wearing a pair of black jeans, a black shirt, a gorgeous black blazer, and black heels- with some jewellery thrown in. Her hair was down, but pined back and out of her face, and her makeup was minimal, yet classy.

"Beautiful. You look beautiful."

A blush grew on her cheeks. "Really?"

"Yes really." I assured her. Unfolding my legs, I grabbed my bowl as I stood. "Looks like my work here is done. I'm gonna go get some more ice-cream." I grinned as I headed for the door, leaving the room.

Going out was not something mum did very often. Dating was something she never did, at all. So, to see her so nervous and giddy, it was cute. I liked seeing her so happy.

Walking into the kitchen, I moved to the freezer, pulling it open to look inside. Unfortunately, I was met with a lack of ice-cream. "Damn." Sighing, I closed the freezer again before reaching over to place my bowl in the sink to wash it.

The moment I turned the water off, the doorbell rang.

Turning, wanting to see the guy mum was going on a date with, I started for the door. As I left the kitchen and walked past the staircase, I smirked at Scott- who was walking down the stairs. The concern and suspicion was practically dripping off him.

"Mum is a total babe, right?" I teased.

Knowing I was trying to press his buttons, he looked me up and down. "You really think your purple cupcake pyjama pants are gonna make a great first impression?"

Frowning lightly, I looked down at my long and baggy purple cupcake pyjama pants, and the tight dark grey Tee I was wearing. Then I thought about my hair, and the fact that I hadn't brushed it all day, but had instead just pulled it up into a haphazard bun on the top of my head.

"Shut up." I pouted at him, reaching for the door.

We both froze.

My hand was outstretched, an inch from the handle, hovering midair. But I couldn't move. Neither of us could. Not when we could sense him on the other side.

Peter.

The doorbell rang again.

"Scott? Angela? Get the door?" Mum called from upstairs.

Heart beating hard, I stepped away from the door, moving to stand next to Scott, both of us staring at the only thing separating us from him. We were unsure if we should be scared, or panicked, or angry, or confused. So, I decided on all of the above.

The doorbell rang again, causing us to jump in fright.

"Scott! Angela! For the love of God, someone please get the door!"

But still, neither of us could move. Neither of us wanted to move. If Peter was here, it wasn't for anything good. He was an evil, manipulative, conniving monster. There was no way in hell I was letting him in the house.

Suddenly, the door handle started to turn.

Reacting quickly, Scott went to stop him, but as he reached for the handle, the door pushed open.

I extended my claws, ready to attack… only there was no one there. The porch was empty.

"Hey." We both turned to see mum at the top of the stairs, looking down at us. "What are you doing? Aren't you gonna invite him in?" She asked, a little annoyed, before ducking around the corner again.

When Scott and I turned back to the door, we were met by the sight of Peter, standing there, a smug look on his face.

"Hello there."

Grabbing the door, Scott went to slam it closed, but was stopped when Peter pressed his hand against it. He looked so unfazed, like it took no effort to force the door open again. Like Scott's strength was nothing to him.

"Really? Slam the door in my face? Come on, Scott. Take a second to think that through."

"I'll tell her." Scott threatened.

"That I used to be a catatonic invalid with burns covering half my face?" Peter gave my brother a knowing look. "Good luck with that."

"What are you doing here, Peter?" I tried not to growl, but the threat of him doing something to my mother scared the hell out of me.

Pulling his gaze from Scott, Peter turned to me. "Try and remember that I've been in a coma for six years. Don't you think I'd like to have dinner with a beautiful woman?" He noted, keeping his voice low.

"Just- just half a second." Mum called. "Sorry."

Looking behind Scott and me, he offered her a smile until she walked around the corner, then his smile fell as his eyes landed on us again. "Or maybe... you think that I've come up with an idea." A grin tugged on his lips. "Like how it might be easier to convince you to be part of the pack… if your mother is, too."

The growl tore from my lips, low and warning. Claws extending, I stepped closer to the door, putting myself in front of him. Fangs sliding out of my gums, I flashed my eyes at him, wanting nothing more than to rip him apart.

He stepped closer to me, a dangerous look in his eyes. "Do you really think you stand a chance?"

"No." I answered honestly, glaring hard at him. "But I'm willing to try."

Sighing, he shook his head at me lightly. "You need to understand how much more powerful we are together, you and me and Scott and Derek."

I tensed and jumped, all at the same time, feeling is fingers brush the side of my arm. Goosebumps rose on my flesh, my body reacting to his touch in a way I would have preferred it didn't.

The look on his face told me he knew what he was doing. He grinned smugly, his fingers still lightly running up and down my skin.

Inside me I could feel my wolf shift from angry, to confused. I wanted to hate this man, but his touch was invoking feelings inside me that were still very foreign… but not completely unknown to me. It was longing, want, desire, need. It all clashed with my hate, twisting my stomach.

A hand grabbed my shoulder as Scott pulled me away from Peter protectively.

Still looking very smug, Peter went on as if nothing had happened. "Did you know that some of the most successful military operations during the Second World War were the German U-boat attacks? Do you know what they called them?" He asked, the look in his eyes telling me he didn't think we'd know.

But I did. "Wolf packs."

His eyes flashed, impressed. "I see you're not failing history, unlike Scott."

Voice tight and angry, Scott spoke up. "I know the Germans lost the war."

Peter chuckled lightly. "I think you'll find that most historians would argue that as a failure of leadership. And trust me, we don't have that here."

"I'm ready, I'm ready." Mum smiled as she came over to stand with the three of us, attention on Peter. "Sorry again." She laughed nervously.

Smiling widely at her, Peter offered his arm- which she took. Scott and I just stood there, watching as the couple walked out and onto the porch… that was until my brother stopped them.

"Mum…" The panic in his voice was very obvious.

When mum turned, I could see the impatience in her eyes. "Yes? Sweetheart." She gave a pointed and warning look, telling Scott to back off.

Forcing a smile on my lips, I reached for the table by the door and grabbed her handbag. "You left this behind." I told her, stepping out onto the porch.

Her face relaxed a little as she gave another nervous laugh. "Oh, gosh. Thank you, sweetie."

As they turned to leave, Peter's eyes met mine for a brief moment. He grinned, knowing how much this was killing me, but also amused at how smoothly I saved my brother's ass.

"Have a great time." I told them, still forcing myself to smile.

Silent once more, Scott and I watched as they headed for Peter's car, before driving off. The moment the car was gone I spun around and headed back inside.

"Allison still in your room?" I asked, remembering how she had come over to see him.

He nodded. "Yeah, why?"

"Tell her to wait here. That we'll be right back."

"Where are we going?"

"We're going to stop Peter."

Bamby

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twocoinarchive-blog · 7 years ago

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there are very few things i like about the n52 comics about harvey, and those things are, unfortunately, so easily overshadowed by the many things i loathe about the entire reboot

i like how we get a bit more insight about harvey’s relationship w/ gilda ( even if ! i’m disappointed by the fact that the writers forgot she’s a sculptor ,, rip ), and i like that they established ! that he has been bruce’s friend for a long time ( since pre - school, maybe even before, according to ba.tman and ro.bin : the big burn ) which is a stark contrast to new earth’s the long halloween where harvey and bruce only became acquaintances, barely even friends, and with harvey still showing disdain towards bruce

i do like that he’s been shown to be more, dare i say it, vain ( and a tad bit more selfish ) compared to his new earth counterpart, and while new earth will forever be my favorite version, it’s a fresh take on his character that i can enjoy

what easily overshadows this is, however, the poor backstory he was given. i can respect the writer’s making him striving towards, and becoming, a DEFENSE ATTORNEY ( at first, he later chooses to turn to the prosecutor route ), but they’ve done so in a poor way by making his entire character be spoiled by one, single thing — by making him a mob lawyer for the mckil.len twins. we’re speaking about harvey de.nt here, yall, harvey ‘ everyone who participates in mob business are immediately deemed as corrupt and almost just as bad as the criminals themselves, for they had a choice in whether they wanted to defend them or not ’ de.nt. i want yall to sit on that for a second. they took everything that had been established about harvey, a fair man whose sense of justice was immaculate and who breathed to put every criminal in goth.am behind bars, and made him into someone who worked for the mob. not even just the mob, but the WORST of the mob in the n52 universe.

couple this fact with the knowledge that n52 made harvey de.nt, not just two - fa.ce, but harvey de.nt into quite the asshole early on, really doesn’t sit well with the Morally Good and Ethically So - So Clean character we have been introduced to in new earth, and despite the fact he refuses to deal with the mck.illens later on, this is just one big mix for a character that, when boiled down, is really just Asshole Lawyer who Got Punished By His Former Clients. he really is an asshole in this continuity, though. a damn shame. i don’t personally want to read about an asshole lawyer, that’s not what i signed up for when i decided to dedicate myself to this character

anyways let me go back to the topic at hand, because while i do adore the relationships that has been established in this continuity, there are some instances where it really just brought a frown to my face. let me take as an instance:

his relationship with bruce seems to be build up more around the fact that harvey wishes to be more like him. these comics makes it seem like harvey is actively jealous of bruce’s life style and wishes to be more suave and charming, which contradicts his being in new earth, where it seems like he’s decently happy with his current way of life.

and

his relationship with jim gordon is nothing less but strained in this continuity. jim is shown as, get a load of this, quite the CORRUPT cop, which as well all know he truly isn’t in the older comics. but due to this we can see that jim ( along with bruce and gilda ) to drop some of his ethics, ethics that he still value in this run ( thank god ), in favor of making everything easier. it’s a bit dirty, isn’t it ? it doesn’t feel right and it doesn’t fit their new earth relationship, which had been shown to be good and honest ( before the courtroom accident ). also, he tried to encourage harvey to basically spill anything he had on the mckill.ens ( thus effectively violating the attorney / client privilege ) which, if found out, would absolutely damage not only harvey’s reputation, but his entire career, and i don’t know about you all, but that doesn’t sound very cop like of someone, especially not someone who, in prior continuities, harvey was able to place his trust upon. of course he might be trying to pressure harvey into spilling secrets because said mobsters had tried to assassinate the entire gordon family, but my point still stands.

of course i could spend another whole week ranting on about how upset i am about them killing off gilda. “would you die for harvey, mrs. dent ?” erin mcki.llen asks after breaking out a jail, and when gilda answers yes, she stabs her. anticlimatic, but not surprising, and yet it still stings. but this really just gives harvey the one motivation to become Angry and Resentful™ ( something that he has not shown to be before in n52 due to a lack of a tragic backstory alá. abusive dad, or a lack for a backstory at all ) that every other male character has by now in n52 — angst and a motivation for revenge because they fridged the most important character in his life. it’s a trope we’ve seen a billion times before and let me be honest here : i don’t like it. to think that this is the premise they’ve set up in order for him to become two - fa.ce ! the one thing i DO like about this is the ending of this particular comic arc ( the one where gilda dies ). it’s heartwrenching and despite my dislike for the comic in general, it make me choke up a little. that despite his anger and need for revenge, his first priority still lays with gilda, even if she has turned to death, and sorrow and regret begins to worm its way into his character. it’s amazing how much of a vital part of his character she was established as in n52 ( compared to the new earth version, which quickly got boiled down to her simply being a housewife )

ANYWAYS

what makes this even more funny to me, this whole n52 deal, is that there’s no downright reason for him to be so heavily dependent on The Coin as he is. there’s not anything spectacular, it’s not his dad’s old trick coin that was used in a sick nightly game, it’s not the lucky coin of a certain mr. maroni — no, what it is is but a single, coincidentalcoin that happens to have two heads which he had in a coin collection. that’s it. that’s literally it. i’m so confused as to WHY he decided to later on revolve his entire crime career around this silly little piece of silver. at no point in there entire run of n52 pre - tw.o - face harvey do we even SEE him dabble on the topic of chance and fate and duality. there’s no signs of prior mental illness either, everything pointing towards that the actual trauma of getting acid poured on his face and seeing his wife die within a matter of hours being the Culprit towards him developing schizophrenia and dissociative identity disorder — which is a bullshit reasoning. the origin arc we are introduced to in The Big Burn falls completely flat as an origin story for tw.o - face, however, i must admit, it’s a huge leap as a story for harvey de.nt, despite its MANY flaws.

i don’t agree with many of the other works in n52 either.

however, i admit i am a sucker for the all - star batm.an story, My Own Worst Enemy. it gives a lovely little explanation for the inconsistencies in harvey’s and tw.o - face’s character throughout the years, and while her certainly is rather sadistic with literally no moral compass at all, something that doesn’t feel right, i can agree with a majority of everything delivered, even if it hits home a tad bit too hard with the fact that it’s revealed that harvey’s about ready to give up on life and fully willingly to let tw.o - face take control once and for all, a rather obvious sign of him not only being severely depressed, but also suicidal ( may i remind yall that he has quite literally shot himself in the head. he’s one lucky — i’m saying lucky loosely here — son of a gun ). if i may say it, it’s a part that hits a lil bit close to home

long story short n52 is still shit, i only read it for harvey and for the art, and for the fact that i rlly want to icon these Crisp n Clean panels

thanks for coming to my ted talk

#me: im just gonna make a short list over the things i dislike about n52 #me: absolutely demolishes n52 and everything it stands for #n52 / prime earth whomst ??? don't know her #this turned into a Personal Essay i fuckin h8 myself #╱╱ ･ﾟ✧▐┊ — « ooc. »#im trying guys. im trying real hard to like n52 but it's #a Challenge #long post //#since i know tumblr mobile likes to heck over read mores !

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