#not Scott and just . decides to try and do something for the sad man

[astronomodome]

It’s 3 AM and I’m stressed out so instead of doing boring things like sleeping I’m deciding whether or not I could beat each life series member in a physical fight (c! and cc!). Sorry about the violence idk why my brain thought of this. DISCLAIMER I don’t want to fight any of these people and I don’t wish any harm upon them I’m just delirious 👍 yayy

Rendog

c!: He’s just a guy with dog ears in canon so I wouldn’t be like suuuper fucked but I think I’d still lose. You know he turns up to jazzercise

cc!: Hasn’t he been through enough recently… could I win? Maybe. But I’d be a good sport about it and I’d expect him to do the same should he beat me

Grian

c!: Have you ever tried to fight a bird? Those things are scary. I got chased by a goose once and it was not fun. Yeah this ain’t happening

cc!: You know that one video of Grian demolishing that punching bag? That would be me. Do you want that for me? I don’t

Joel Smallishbeans

c!: I think I could but it would be really close and I’d have to go to the hospital immediately after. Not for fight wounds or anything I just would be worried he’d have given me rabies

cc!: I feel like I would have to fight him and Lizzie at the same time and I don’t think I could take that. Nothing can beat the power of love <3

Scott Smajor

c!: Nah I just lose and he’s judgmental about it too

cc!: LGBT infighting. I would probably lose

BigB

c!: he would win the psychic battle long before the physical battle could even begin

cc!: Man is yoked. I have died

Etho

c!: As soon as I walk up to him he teleports behind me and cuts me in half. Nothing personnel kid

cc!: Lost in the Canadian wilderness trying to track him down, I am mauled by a moose. My corpse becomes a nice meal for some wolves and I am slowly forgotten

Bdubs

c!: I could punt him with ease

cc!: I maybe could but would it really be worth it

Pearl

c!: Ripped apart by hounds so sad. I deserved it

cc!: I can’t afford to fly to Australia. Also even if I could I think she could just throw a bug at me and I would die from the 10,000 poisons that every Australian animal contains

Martyn Inthelittlewood

c!: I lied we’re not fighting I’m leading you out of the endless cycle of violence come with me

cc!: I feel like I would be overconfident going into it and then he would just deck me. Alternatively he could just recite mentally damaging lore facts at me until I fall over and die

Scar from Goodtimes

c!: He immediately engages me in a battle of wits that ends in me paying him to punch me in the face

cc!: I would concede immediately for moral reasons. Maybe we could lightsaber duel instead?

Impulse

c!: He would show up in like full netherite or something. Are these fights happening irl or in minecraft. Doesn’t matter. Either way I am gone. Reduced to ashes

cc!: That is a whole entire human being I think I’d punch him once and then apologize. It would not affect him at all. I don’t think he’d hurt me though

Tango

c!: I might have a chance but the fire hair thing might be a problem

cc!: I think it would somehow turn into a hockey match and given that I have only ice skated twice before and both times ended in me spraining my ankles real bad I don’t think my odds are looking great. He is bald though so there’s always hope

Cleo

c!: I am breakfast. She will eat me

cc!: I don’t think I’d even be able to get the fight set up I think they’d give me a fake address and leave it at that. And I would deserve it

Jimmy Solidarity

c!: We’re both rather pathetic and sad so I think in this case we would just adhere to rule of funny. Whether I win or lose depends on what’s funniest at the time

cc!: The GYM TEACHER?? No.

Skizzleman

c!: Why would I do that

cc!: :( I don’t want to do this anymore. I would lose also that is a whole ass adult man but I think he’d go easy on me so idk

Geminitay

c!: Lol. No.

cc!: I would be beaten instantly cause I’d feel bad about hurting her but honestly I don’t know why this would ever happen. We could be friends <3 sorry is that parasocial

Mumbo Jumbo

c!: I feel like he could outrun me but I could overpower him

cc!: Absolutely no chance, man could bike circles around me. I would be easily run over

Lizzie LDShadowlady

c!: Easily but I’d feel bad about it

cc!: Same as with Joel. I stand no chance against their combo attack

[tupperwaretub]

Hey, how you going? I just stumbled upon your blog and saw that you write for Scott Lang, and that requests are open, and this is kinda heaven! There aren't many fics with Scott (even less with male reader), so I wanted to request, if possible, one with Scott where he and the reader have a relationship (or maybe they just like each other), and Scott ends up getting jelly seeing him spend a lot of time with the person responsible for recruiting him (Steve, Bucky, Sam, Natasha... Whoever you think is the best). They can end up spending heaps of time training or just cracking up together, which makes Scott jealous.

P.S. If you wanna make this a smut, in my head Scott would definitely be the bottom (maybe reader's powers can make things more interesting ;) )

Thanks in advance!!

A Good Sense of Humour

Pairing:Scott Lang x Male! Reader

(bottom scott, top reader)

Content: SMUT, gentle love making, exchanging feelings, multiple orgasms (reader has that super soldier stamina 💪), mainly vanilla smut, size difference, rushed ending :( .

Summary: You'd just been recruited into the avengers and were going through training with THE Steve Rodgers, you and Steve had gotten close during your training but you only had eyes for one man and that was Scott Lang, but he'd never like you back... Right?

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

It had been a few months since you were first recruited to the avengers by steve Rodgers, it still leaves you baffled that Capitan America himself wanted you to join the avengers but you guess he wanted you because of your shared trait of being a super soldier. So far everyone has welcomed you with open arms, you've been getting along especially well with Scott Lang, Antman. You think hes funny and really quite attractive, but he could never reciprocate your feelings you knew he had a wife at one point and a daughter called Cassie. So he's obviously straight.

These past few months have been spent mostly with Steve, he's been training you and you've come to think of him as a pretty good friend.

You and Steve were chatting about your most recent training session and what you could do to improve, when you entered the kitchen you saw scott leant on the island sipping from a mug. "Hey Scott!" You say cheerily. "Hey y/n." He replies only glancing at you. Something was obviously wrong, he was always much more cheery and always had some kind of joke to crack when he saw you.

"I'll see you later y/n, me and Buck have plans." Steve says patting your back. "Alright, see ya later Steve." You smile. When Steve leaves the room theres a thick layer of tension surrounding you and Scott. "There something wrong Scott?" You say as you approached him. "So you and Steve, huh?" He asks just staring into his mug. "What? Oh pfft no! Hes not my type. Besides... Hes straighter than a ruler." You say trying to make some kind of joke to break the tension, Scott laughs a little but still seems upset. "So.. what is your type?"

He looks up and into your eyes, now it was your turn to look down. You stared down at the tiled floor considering your answer, you decide maybe you should confess maybe he likes you back? That would explain why he's so sad. You decide to go for it. "Guys with a good sense of humour." You confess as you look back up connecting with his gaze. You watch as his face lights up before a shit eating grin replaces it. "So like me? You bite your lip and smile as you step forward and place your hands on his cheeks, you admire his features for a second. "Yeah.. like you."

Scott leans forward and encases you in a kiss, it was short lived but you were quickly dragged to his room where he kissed you again. The kiss was much longer and full of passion. Your hands slowly traveled to his ass and he let out a moan into the kiss, you quickly picked him up making him gasp and wrap his legs around you. You laughed a little "don't worry I won't drop you, you're light." You tease.

Your hands are placed firmly on his ass but you have no struggle keeping him up, being a super soldier meant you could lift grown men like Scott with ease. Scotts hands are roaming around in your hair as you make out, the kissing is getting rougher and more desperate. Scott moves his hands from your hair to your shoulders and pulls away, his lips are swollen and red and hes out of breath.

You don't even have to ask what he wants, before he opens his mouth you have him layed on the bed and you're unbuttoning his trousers. You pull his trousers off of his legs and caress his inner thighs, "have you got lube?" You ask, you used to use spit but ever since you got pumped full of super soldier syrum you're quite a lot bigger than you were and you'd need a lot of spit... "Yeah top drawer next to you." You reach over and grab the lube, there were condoms next to it. Just looking at them you knew they weren't your size.

"Scott, I don't think your condoms will fit me.." You admit slightly worried it'll be a deal breaker. "Oh- i have one of your condoms in there..." He admits. "You steal it from my room?" You find it underneath a sock and close the drawer. "Yeah... Sorry." You laugh a little and put the condom to the side for now.

Scott helps you pull down his underwear, you lick his hole but pull away and grab the lube, applying it to his hole and your two fingers. You push one finger in slowly and you watch as Scott's toes curl. "Just tell me when you're ready for the second finger." You tell him not wanting to hurt him, he nods and takes deep breaths.

You're sat next to him on the bed looking down at his figure, your other hand roaming around his torso. "This your first time with a guy?" You ask and he shakes his head. "First time bottoming though.." you suddenly feel guilty having not asked him if he wanted to bottom "we can stop if you-" "no! God no dont stop!" He interrupts, his response makes you grin and you slowly add another finger.

Once scott had adjusted you began curling your fingers inside of him in search of his prostate. The sweet little moans hes making go straight to your cock, "i need to add a third finger to stretch you out right, that okay?" He nods and you prod another finger at his entrance, as you push it in Scott gasps and wraps his arms around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

You whisper praises in his ear as you feel him adjusting slowly, soon enough his light whimpers became heated moans as you curled and thrusted your fingers inside of him hitting his prostate. "That feel good?" You coo, all Scott can do is nod and moan. "You think you're ready for my cock?" You ask still fingering his hole. "Yes.. yes. Please." He sighs.

You pull your fingers out of him and place a kiss on his forehead. You roll the condom on and apply a gracious amount of lube. Theres a hitch in Scotts breath when you place your tip against his entrance. "I'll be gentle for you baby." You assure.

You slowly begin to push into Scott, he lets out strained groans as you continuously push farther into him. You stop in your tracks deciding you had gone far enough in. "A-are you all the way... In?" Scott stutters out. "No, i just thought this is probably enough." Scotts face scrunches and he slowly bends to look at where you two have connected. "Please... Go all the way in.." He looks up at you through hooded lids, you just can't say no to that face. "Okay.. but you dont have to, you can tell me to stop as soon as you become too uncomfortable-" you begin to ramble but Scott quickly cuts you off with a smile "I want to feel all of you.." his words have you blushing and you nod.

You continue to gently push in the last couple inches of your cock, Scotts legs are wrapped around your waist and he's still adjusting to your size. You caress his waist and give him as much time as he needs. You both sit in a comfortable silence until Scott gives you the green light to start slowly shifting your hips.

His sweet little whimpers fill the room as you gently pump into and out of him, "please.. go faster." You place your hand on his cheek and start to pick up the pace of your thrusts, still being mindful to not be rough.

You feel scott tighten around you as he cums, the white strings landing on his stomach. Once he was down from his high you pull out and are about to leave and get something to wipe him down with when he grabs your hand. "You didn't enjoy it?" He asks seemingly upset. "What? No! I loved it, I've been waiting to do that for so long." You clasp your hands on either side of his face and give him a warm smile.

You apply a small amount of lube and slowly push back inside of Scott, your dick sliding in smoothly.

"you didn't cum." He replies blankly. "Oh- yeah. Because of the super soldier syrum.. You know i have increased stamina, yeah, It takes me a long time to finish, we should probably leave it here because it's your first time bottoming and-" you're interrupted by Scott shushing you. "I want you to keep fucking me until you cum, got it?" You just blush and nod.

........................

You've lost track of time completely, bringing scott to his next orgasm being the only thought on your mind. You're pretty sure you're well acquainted with every inch of Scotts body by now, your hands roaming and caressing his skin as you get closer and closer to your own release.

You finally take one last thrust and cum into the condom, your legs shake slightly and you take a minute to recover.

When you're ready you slowly pull out causing an overstimulated Scott to whine. "Sorry, I'll clean you up and we can go straight to sleep okay?" Scott only nods, he still looks like he's seeing stars.

You grab a warm cloth and gently wipe Scott and yourself down before climbing into bed with him, wrapping your arms around his waist and holding him close.

You both slept undisturbed and peaceful within eachothers arms.

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

A/n: as much as i love writing for Pedro's characters, a different character like Scott was refreshing. Sorry it took so long aswell being busy and a slow writer who gets distracted easily is not a good mixture. But i hope you like it <3

[gaysindistress]

Sad girl - eighteen

summary: James has an interesting new business proposal and one hell of a condition to deal with.

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: cursing, Bucky’s smartass, angst, guns, violence, Walker has decided that he wants to be Joe Goldberg

word count: 2.2k

a/n: there are some POV shifts in this part but I tried to make it obvious with dividers so it wasn’t too confusing. Anyways, there’s one part left!

part 17 | series masterlist

Taglist: @missvelvetsstuff @angelsincident @spencerreidisagorgman @goldensunflowe-r   @i-have-no-life-charlie @esposadomd @iateall-yourcookies  @littlelizardlizzie @alana4610 @kandis-mom @beware-my-thorns @ozwriterchick @reader-without-a-story @unaxv @wh0reforbucknasty @cjand10  @vickie5446 @katymae12344 @openup-yourmind @callsign-athena

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

The Stark Estate is always the looming house on the hill as the SUV approaches the large iron gates. The brick mansion is mostly covered in vines and plants, much to Pepper’s dismay. Anthony thought it gave the 20s-built house character and a homey feel so the vines were left along with the ridiculous amount of landscaping that lined the driveway. Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes at the blatant display of wealth as the SUV rolls down the driveway to the main house. Scott is the one to meet the men, standing with his arms crossed in front of him. The SUV slows to a stop beside him and Bucky gets out of the driver’s seat. 

“The others in position,” Scott asks him as Bucky adjusts his black jean jacket to conceal his holster and gun better. 

“Yep, yours?”

Scott nods while the two walk into the house. While Pepper may not have any say about the outside, she took full advantage of changing every little detail inside to fit her taste. White and marble covered every inch of the 20,000 square foot home, a stark difference from the industrial and wood feel of Bucky’s house. It reeked of cold indifference as they walked up the same stairs Doll nearly cracked with anger that day. Scott pushes open the heavy doors, letting the other man enter the room first. 

As usual, Anthony is seated at his desk however without his normal crowd of men in black. Thor and Loki are reclining on the couches, guns completely on display due to their relaxed posture. A younger man, who he assumes is the new recruit Peter Parker is standing off to the side of Anthony. 

“You brought a kid?” Bucky tries to hide the disgust in their voice when he sits in the same chair he had during that meeting. 

“He’s not a kid and you didn’t bother to dress for the occasion,” Anthony, however, doesn’t even bother to cover his disapproval at Bucky’s outfit. 

Leveling a blank stare at the other man, he speaks again “We’re not here to do business.”

Anthony rolls his eyes dramatically, making a show of it as he gestures to Scott to come over. He says something about the ETA of John to which Scott tells him he’s at the gates before leaving the room. 

“What’s the status of your team?” He turns to his son-in-law. 

“Waiting for my cue.”

“Good good. How about my daughter?”

“Safe.”

“Wow, I forgot how quiet you are,”  he widens his eyes in annoyance, “Anyways when John gets here, I don’t want you to speak. Let me handle it and if I need you to step in, I’ll let you know.”

“Fine by me,” a hardened expression takes on his face as he rests his hands together in between his spread legs. 

John’s voice echoes up the marble staircase as Bucky’s phone rings. 

“Buck we have a problem.”

Nat had promised Doll that his meeting would only last a couple of hours and that it was just a business meeting. 

“I swear it’s just a meeting that’s all.”

“He took his gun,” Doll is trying not to panic, however with his injury and their developing closeness, it’s getting harder and harder to stop it. 

“He takes it everywhere.”

“But this is different, I can feel it. He didn’t tell me where he was going and he always tells me.”

Nat takes her by the shoulders and stops her pacing, “Do you really want to know?”

She pushes the other woman’s hands off of her, “Obviously.”

“If I tell you, will you promise to stay here until he gets back?” she demands as she sits down on the living room couch. 

Doll takes a seat as well while nodding her head. 

“He set up a meeting with John at your dad’s house to get him to cut his bullshit and to get your mom. Steve and Sam are headed in to get her as we speak.”

“Natasha what the fuck?” she jumps off the couch, yelling at Nat, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew this is how you were going to react. Now sit your ass back down. They’re going to be back in like an hour.”

Doll’s phone goes off, the ringtone specifically set for Morgan and she answers it in confusion, “Hey Mo Mo, what’s up?”

“Sissy help! He’s hurting everyone,” Morgan’s small voice is full of terror as she whispers into the phone. 

“Mo Mo what’s going on?”

“John, he's hurting everyone. Sissy, please help!”

She looks at Nat with frightened eyes, “Where are you? Are you hiding?”

“I’m hiding in Daddy’s closet,” she cries into the phone. 

She gestures to Nat to stand up as she holds the phone between her head and shoulder, “Okay Mo Mo, stay there and don’t make a sound okay? Do not open the door unless it’s Daddy, Mommy, or Scott. I’m coming.” 

Hastily shoving her feet into her torn vans, she throws a pair of keys to Nat and points to the door, “Start the car and call Bucky. Shit is going down.”

“Buck we have a problem.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“She’s not here.”

“What do you mean she’s not there?” 

Sam shutters from the other line, “The woman we saw isn’t her. She says she’s a housekeeper and that Walker forced her to dress up as Marianne and stay in her room until he came and got her.”

“Fuck, get out and get over here,” Bucky hangs up the phone as John bursts into the room dragging the woman in question beside him. Blood is dripping from her eyebrow and her lip no doubt from where he hit her. Bruises are starting to form on her face and arms as she drops to the floor when John lets go of her arm. Thor and Loki jump to their feet, guns drawn and pointed at the man. 

“Gentlemen! What a lovely fucking surprise,” he exclaims, holding Marianne by the hair, “Imagine my surprise when Scott here told me that I was being set up and I found your two buddies lurking around my house.”

Anthony stands but the sudden movement is not welcomed by the furious man and he pulls his own gun on the woman beside him.  

“Sit down or I’ll shoot sweet Marianne,” the threat causes her to start crying and begging for her life as she claws at the hand holding her hair, “Shut the fuck up.”

Anthony does as he’s told and sits down. Bucky’s chest rises and falls at a steady pace, the soldier and mercenary in him remaining calm even when the room is up in arms. He rubs his eyebrow in mild annoyance that the meeting went south so quickly. He expected that this would happen, just not so quickly. Scott, on the other hand, is frozen by the door after being caught double-crossing his boss. 

“Thor and Loki sit,” John demands of the two brothers. 

Thor glances back to Anthony who gives him a nod and a dismissive wave. A shot rings out and is followed by a thud. Bucky glances over his shoulder to see that Scott is the one hit. Footsteps and shuffling are heard from behind him as the two brothers collect the body and take it out of the room. Looking forward again, he can see the disgusted and sickened face of Peter who hasn’t moved an inch since this whole thing started. 

“Peter, go find my wife and daughter,” Anthony directs the young man. 

He doesn’t move at first but Anthony saying his name sharply snaps him back to reality as he rushes out of the room to find the two other Stark family members. Marianne cries out again as John rips her up to her feet and forces her to sit in the chair next to Bucky. 

“Care to explain what the real reason for this meeting was?” John sneers at the two men, eyes rapidly shifting between them. 

Taking a deep breath and shifting his feet slightly so they’re more solid on the ground, Bucky speaks, “It was to ask you to leave my wife and her mom alone however objectives have changed.”

“Enough with the cryptic nonsense, start talking,” he shoves the gun into the woman’s hair, releasing another cry for help. 

“Let her go and we can.”

“No.”

“I’m not going to ask again,” Bucky rolls his shoulders and shifts to the edge of his chair. 

“Then don’t,” he moves his attention to Anthony, “And you. I can’t believe you would help him with all of this. I had to go through Scott to find all of this out.”

Anthony licks his lips, “He is married to my daughter so I felt obligated to help.”

John lets out a downright evil laugh, “Obligated? You felt obligated? That’s fucking hilarious. I think you wanted to cut me out of the deal and saw your opportunity.”

“So what?” the older man shrugs his shoulders at the accusation. 

“If you felt so obligated to help your family then you would try and stop me if I shot Marianne?”

“No, she’s not my family.”

“You’re not going to shoot her. You are going to let her go though,” Bucky clears his throat and aims his stare at John. 

The constant demands are starting to wear down his resolve and his finger grows restless on the trigger. Taking out all three of them right now would solve all of his problems. Taking out all three would bring back his sweetheart and he could have her all to himself. The decision is made for him when three shots crack out and three loud thuds hit the floor. 

“Fuck, get out and get over here.”

Sam curses under his breath as he pockets his phone and waves Steve over from his search of the bedroom. 

“Buck said to head to the Stark estate. John took her with him.”

“Shit,” Steve curses before turning to the housekeeper, “Go home, pack your stuff, and get out of here.”

She nods quickly while crying and takes off out of the room. The two men reupholster their guns and leave the room. They swiftly exit the house and climb into their SUV, speeding off to the Stark Estate. 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Sam tells the man to his side as he races through the city streets. 

“Me too. Did he say anything else?”

“Not just that we needed to get over there. Do we have a first aid kit?”

Steve reaches behind the driver’s seat and pulls a backpack to the front. Opening it, he digs through it until he finds the kit.

“I hope you’re wrong,” he says, shoving the kit back in and putting it at his feet. He pulls his gun out and checks his clip before checking the rest of the clips attached to his tactile vest. 

“Me too, man, me too.”

Nat refused to let Doll drive, insisting that she could get them there faster and in one piece. Morgan had hung up the phone before they left in fear that John would hear her voice and find her. She promised to answer when her sister got there and called her to get her out. The phone rings over the car’s speakers and she smashes the answer button when she sees that it’s Sam calling. 

“Nat get her out of New York. We’re here and shit isn’t looking good.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” Doll says with an eerily calm voice. 

“Shit, where is Nat?”

“Here.” “Please tell me you’re not on your way here,” the stress of the situation is draining his energy. 

“Morgan called me crying that John was hurting people. She’s hiding in our parent’s closet. Do you know where their room is?” 

“Do not go in until we can meet you. Nat, make sure she stays put until we have eyes on you and Bucky,” Steve’s voice is harsh and authoritative as he takes over the call, “Doll I need you to answer me.” 

“Yes I won’t go in until I see you or Sam,” she begrudgingly answers, slouching into the car seat. 

“Good see you guys in a few,” he hangs up the phone. 

“Do you have an extra gun?” She asks, opening the glove compartment and riffling through it. 

“No close that,” Nat slams it shut, “you’re not going in.”

[voidfxndoms]

Something Blue (Part 1) // Sterek

Derek is getting married and Stiles, as his best man, decides to bring in an old bridal tradition.

Warnings: swearing, a lot of built-up feelings that don't come out in the best of ways.

W/C: 2,487 (total)

A/N: I had to split it into two parts because I was over the tumble world limit apparently??? I didn't even know tumblr HAD a word limit lmao. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy this first part :)

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

"Okay, Scott? How much time do we have?" Stiles asked, nervously pacing around the room. "Thirty minutes." "Oh my god, we're never gonna make it. Where is he? Where is Derek?" "He's going to be here, don't worry. We got plenty of time." Scott tried calming his best friend down. "It's his wedding, for God's sake! How can someone be late for their own wedding!" Stiles exclaimed, anxiety reeking off of him and invading the room. "Malia just texted me, Braeden is almost ready. I'm gonna go check on the catering and guests, maybe someone knows where he is. You need to calm down Stiles, we're gonna be fine." "I need to tell him, Scott.", Stiles said, eyes sad and shoulders slumped. "And you will. I got you." Scott smiled, putting both hands on his friends's shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. "I swear to God if Derek doesn't bring his werewolf ass in here right now-" "Threatening me on my wedding day? I really should have asked Scott to be my best man.". A tall, bulky figure walked into the room, pearly whites flashing as the words left his mouth. "You piece of shit!" Stiles said before taking big strides towards the groom and adjusting his tie. "Relax Stiles, everything is going according to plan. Scott, did Stiles not take his Adderall today?" Derek joked, looking over at the young alpha. Stiles huffed, then stumbled towards his backpack. Ignoring the two wolves making fun of him, he took out some things from his bag and placed them on the room's glass coffee table. "Okay. You, big bad wolf, c'mere." Derek, cocking a brow, approached the small table in the middle of the room. He observed the objects in front of him as he sat on the small sofa. "Stiles? What is this? I refuse to do any sort of voodoo ritual." Scott, standing behind Derek, looked at his best friend with a puzzled expression on his face. "I thought this was only for brides." "Well," Stiles said, "this is no ordinary wedding, so I don't see why only ordinary traditions should apply."

"Can somebody please explain to me what the hell I'm looking at, and what is this supposed to be?" Derek asked, half amused, and half annoyed. "Something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.", Stiles announced proudly as Scott rolled his eyes. Derek furrowed his eyebrows. "Oh my God," Stiles's jaw dropped. "You seriously don't know what I'm talking about?" "I have no idea what this is." the werewolf replied, confusion still plastered on his face. Before Stiles could say anything even remotely sarcastic, Scott said: "Guys, we've got twenty minutes. Stiles, make it fast." "Alright alright." the amber-eyed replied. He took a deep breath, unsuccessfully trying to calm his nerves. "As your best man,-" he started. "The worst decision of my life by the way, don't know what I was thinking." Derek interrupted him, chuckling. Stiles glared at him. "I was saying…" he continued, stressing the final word while shooting one last annoyed look at the giggly man opposite to him. "As your best man, it is my duty to make sure you enter this new chapter of your life in the best way possible, carrying bits and pieces of your life before that horrible mistake when you decided to marry Terminator's daughter." "You know her name is Braeden. And, come on, be nice to her -- she saved all of our lives. I still don't understand why you hate her so much." "It's not her that I hate…" Stiles mumbled. For a split second, Derek saw a glint in his best man's eyes. It was pure sadness, but it lasted for so little he questioned whether he'd imagined it. "Anyway, I took the liberty of borrowing a bridal tradition. In front of you you have three objects," Stiles said, before picking up the first one. "Wait, weren't they supposed to be four?" Derek questioned. "We'll get to that in a minute. Now, the first one; something old." "The triskelion?" "Yeah. This part is about having a relic, something that will always remind you about your roots. The sentimental value this thing holds is insane." Derek raised an eyebrow. "Think about it. Your mom used it to help you and your sisters learn how to control your powers. It's been in your family for years, Kate tried to steal it… you even have it tattoed on your back!" Stiles explained. "I also used it with Liam." Derek pointed out. "Yeah, but that was a total disaster." Derek looked at him, lips tight in a thin line, the eyebrow still cocked. "What? It's not my fault your whole "We can all rise and fall to another" speech didn't work." "Alright, alright. Stiles? Move on." Scott intervened, time slowly running out. He nodded, giving Derek the triskelion, who put it in the inner pocket of his tuxedo. "Object number two, something new.", Stiles said. Derek held it for a few moments, before shooting his head up and asking: "What the hell am I supposed to do with a roll of duct tape?", annoyance oozing from his voice. "Trust the process. The "something new" is an object that will help you in your new life."

Skeptic, Derek let his best man keep talking. "And now something borrowed. Courtesy of Jackson." "I don't need a bow tie, I'm already wearing a tie." "See," Stiles said, making his way to the groom, "This sentence is exactly why you need the bow tie." Kneeling before him, he undid Derek's tie and started tying the navy blue satin bow tie Jackson had lent for the occasion. Derek hardly ever wore suits, and even more rarely tuxedoes. He liked casual and comfy clothes and had no interest in the world of elegance. However, when the engagement had been announced and his closet opened, the only suit Stiles had been able to find was dusty, crumpled, and sprinkled with holes made by some very hungry moths. So he had forced the alpha to the best suit shop in Beacon Hills, where Derek had gotten a tailor-made navy blue tuxedo with black satin flaps that had been hunting Stiles in his dreams ever since the first time he had seen it on the werewolf. But Derek had drawn the line at that, refusing to spend one more dollar on his appearance, claiming that he wasn't getting married to the crowd but to Braeden. "She loves me for me. I don't give a shit about what the guests are gonna think." "You really thought I was going to let you stand there, butchering all degrees of style?" Stiles asked cockily, straightening the perfect bow he had tied. "Oh come on, you're being dramatic." Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles scoffed. "First of all, you were wearing a TIE. With a TUXEDO. Ties are worn with suits, bow ties are for tuxedoes." Derek's eyes widened slightly, surprised at the reaction. "Okay fashion police, my bad." "And let's not even mention the state of the tie you were wearing… Terrible!" "Okay- Stiles? It's okay. We get it. Move on.", Scott said, worry in his eyes. "No you don't!" Stiles almost shouted, suddenly misty-eyed.

To be continued...

[half-dead-writer]

At first it was supposed to be a smut, but me being me, I had to come up with some ''plot'' beforehand, so I decided to cut it into two parts, for those who don't wanna read the NSFW portion of the fic. First time writing comfort woo picking people up is my love language

I Do Adore (1/2)

Lately, you've been feeling pretty dysphoric. Fortunately, your lovely boyfriend is here to make you feel better.

character: Matthew Patel (Scott Pilgrim Takes Off)

words: ~1,1k

reader: transmasc (no surgeries or HRT)

warnings: in this part, none! pure comfort

𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔢𝔰 + 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 / 𝔖𝔠𝔬𝔱𝔱 𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔤𝔯𝔦𝔪 𝔗𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔒𝔣𝔣 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

Matthew noticed you didn't seem like your usual self these past few days. Dysphoria caught up to you at the most random time, causing you to feel a bit... bland. You didn't want to make a big deal out of it, knowing it's not really something you can deal with differently other than just ignoring the issue all together. However, he insisted asking you about it, he couldn't ignore you just being sad for apparently no reason?? There had to be something going on. After a few questions, you finally mildly admitted what's been bugging you.

"...What?" He tilted his head, causing you to do the same.

"Y/N," he started, approaching you closer to firmly place his hands on your shoulders, "you're like, the most manly person I know."

You rolled your eyes, halfly disbelieving your boyfriend's words, but you knew he meant well.

"Don't roll your eyes at me!" He threatened, but there was no real bite behind it. He let go off your shoulders to poke your chest as if to emphasize his point. "You know it's true!"

"If only I had the money to get rid of my tits and get a better voice, maybe." You shrugged, not really up for arguing, yet still providing valid - in your opinion - points.

"So you think getting those would make you a 'real man'?" He questioned.

"I mean- yeah?" You said, as if it was obvious knowledge.

He scoffed, "well, you're simply wrong." He was adamant about his opinion, causing your brow to go up, mildly amused at his determination. "Just because someone was born with a dick and a lower voice doesn't mean they're better than you."

"Well, people don't immediately go 'excuse me, sir?' when they see me." You voiced some of the things your mind told you these past days. He took a second to think over his response.

"I will bet you, there's a lot of men who got mistaken for a girl. But- your outward looks shouldn't matter! It's what's inside that matters." He said, upturning his arms and parting hands away from each other in a dramatic gesture. You probably heard it a lot of times, so he didn't wanna bore you with his preaching, trying to balance between being serious and lighthearted with the topic, respectfully.

You sighed, "I know. I'm just being whiny," you admitted, starting to feel a burden. Why did such a silly problem get to you so much?

"You're not whiny," he continued, "I may not truly get how you feel, but you're still really strong for being yourself, even if it's hard for some folks to take you seriously. Take it from a theater major, not many people respect it." He muttered, only slightly salty about it.

His quirk of inserting the info about him being a theater kid into every conversation would probably make any other person annoyed, but he was your boyfriend, and you were used to his typical way of being. You knew he meant well, even if his passion for theater might have been shining too much.

A small smile dared to invade your lips, somehow Matthew could get you to lighten up even if he didn't do much to achieve it. "Alright. If you say so."

"I do, and I mean it." He approached closer to embrace your waist, a soft smirk occupied his expression. He glanced over your figure, having to raise his head just slightly to look you in the eyes. "Also, you're like way taller than me, and if that ain't a manly attribute-"

No matter if Matthew exaggerated the height difference or not, his way of trying to make you feel better worked, gaining a small chuckle out of you. He wasn't usually the one to put himself below others (especially if it came to his height, which wasn't really something he paid much attention to) but if that meant he got to see you smile, it was worth it.

"I'm not that tall, you're just conveniently compact." You responded with a more lighthearted disposition. He rolled his eyes at you.

"Okay, tower-boy." He quipped back, forcing an amused exhale from you.

The conversation turning silly changed your demeanor, and instead of wallowing in your previous issue, you decided to chase the playful mood. You got your boyfriend to keep you out of feeling miserable, and you were gonna use that privilege.

He watched as you bent closer to him, sneakily wrapping your arms around his back to pick him off the ground. His voice raised an octave at the sudden feeling of his feet dangling a few inches above the floor. "HEY!"

"Hold on to me," You instructed with a cheeky grin. He was light enough for you to adjust your grip, gently bumping him up into the air while intertwining your hands under his butt to support his weight. His legs hugged your waist, his arms entangled into your neck as he held you for dear life.

He wriggled just a little to get into a better position, yet made no attempt to break free. "When I said you're tall, it wasn't an invitation to manhandle me!" He huffed, only slightly flustered.

You took a step forward, careful not to lose balance and fall over while holding your man.

"Where are you going now?" He briefly glanced over to check where you're headed.

"We're going to cuddle." You casually stated, making your way to the bedroom. It didn't take you long to arrive at your destination, gently placing you both on the bed. You laid on your back, shuffling Matthew to stay on you.

He feigned an offended scoff, shaking his head. "Such a brute. You're dealing with A-list actor here!" He complained, but you knew he didn't mind as much as he yapped about it.

You relaxed, hanging your hands on his back. He put on a pouty expression, yet still rested his chin on your chest. Your fingers reached to play with his hair, an action you always found quite comforting - like a kitty you could pet. He tilted his head to make himself even more comfortable, now leaning his cheek on you.

"Told you, you're conveniently compact," you teased, a lazy smile resided on your face.

He raised his brow and pursed his lips with a distinctly unimpressed expression, only further fueling your opinion of him pretending to be annoyed.

"Glad to see you in a better mood. I change my statement, you're a brat, not a brute." He commented, softening his features after a while. He couldn't fake being mad at you for long.

[pluckyredhead]

I am still reading my way through the Fourth World! Last time I talked about all the stuff published in the 70s; now let's talk about the 80s.

Kirby:

New Gods #12: In 1984, DC reprinted Kirby's original New Gods run and threw in an extra issue (not to be confused with Gerry Conway's New Gods #12) so that Kirby could finish the story. This was partially DC being nice and trying to give an aging Kirby money, and partially not because they refused to let him produce the ending he wanted, which was Orion and Darkseid both dying. After a couple scrapped versions, we got this, in which Orion goes down in a hail of laser fire. It's a real bummer, but at least he's extremely homoerotic with his best buddy Lightray first? (Oh, they're getting a whole separate post, just you wait.)

The Hunger Dogs: This "graphic novel" (it's only 64 pages but back then that counted) came out a year later and was the "conclusion" to the Fourth World saga. Once again DC and Kirby butted heads because Kirby really wanted to kill everyone and DC was like "But our IP!!!" In the final version, only supporting characters Himon and Esak die, which is sad but not going to do any damage to DC's bottom line.

It turns out Orion is not dead despite being riddled with holes (there's an intriguing suggestion that he has some kind of healing ability because he possesses the Life Equation, which like everything else in this book is presented with zero context or explanation), which is great because it gives him an opportunity to be homoerotic with Lightray again, although he has also been given an Obligatory Heterosexual Love Interest, Himon's daughter Bekka.

Anyway this book is baffling. Highfather blows up New Genesis (everyone survives) to taunt Darkseid, who is overthrown by the downtrodden masses of Apokalips. There's some shouting about the dangers of technology and maybe some anti-Cold War rhetoric about stockpiling weapons, but it's all so hysterically overblown - Kirby at his most grandiose - that it's nearly impossible to parse beyond "war bad." I do appreciate that Orion is able to break free of his rage and death wish and just...leave Darkseid behind, but the fact that he's emotionally mature enough to do that now comes pretty much out of nowhere. The art is extremely powerful, at least.

My final thought is that Kirby clearly gleefully ignored everything Englehart, Conway, et al. did and I love that for him.

Super Powers: Darkseid fights the Justice League. This was a comic created to sell a toy line and you can really, really tell.

Post-Kirby:

Legends: I've read this before, but it's great. If you like pre-Flashpoint DC, you should definitely read this, which introduces Amanda Waller and the Suicide Squad, sets up the JLI, and brings Wonder Woman into the post-Crisis DCU. Neither Orion nor Scott are present but this (along with the Happyland issue of the original Forever People) really makes the case for why Glorious Godfrey is one of Kirby's best and scariest Fourth World creations. And I will never complain about John Byrne art.

Forever People (1988): Blecch. It's definitely arrogant to read something and think "I know for certain that Jack Kirby, a man I never met who died when I was a child, would have hated this" but like. I'm right. And it's obvious from the very first page.

Basically, at the end of Kirby's series, the FP were marooned on a random, idyllic planet somewhere with no hope of getting home, so they embraced it as their new, hopeful future. This catches up with them years later, with Serifan (the sweet young kid) drooling and raving alone in the woods, Vykin (the only Black character) dead (he gets better), and the rest of them...living in yuppie paradise? Apparently the planet they ended up on was populated (missing the point) with "primitive" people (racist) so they decided to use Mother Box to forcibly "evolve" the people (SO RACIST) and were able to create...modern-day America? Literally why would they even do that, they're from New Genesis. Mark is mayor and married with kids, and Big Bear and Beautiful Dreamer are married to each other with a baby on the way.

Anyway a nebulous villain/evil force called "the Dark" undoes everything which brings Vykin back to life but takes away Mark's wife and kids (she's alive but still "primitive" and the kids were never born) and Bear and Dreamer's unborn child, which means the only female protagonist spends the whole rest of the miniseries clutching her stomach and going "my baby!" I absolutely don't mean to make light of pregnancy loss but this doesn't feel like a story about a three-dimensional woman experiencing pregnancy loss. It feels like a story that reduces a woman to a) whether or not she's having a baby, which is the only thing she cares about and b) the central point on a vague love triangle with Mark and Bear. SIGH.

Meanwhile they all go to Earth for...some reason...and then Mark gets possessed by the Dark and is evil for a while but then they manage to summon Infinity Man and Mark isn't evil anymore. And it's bafflingly revealed that they're all from Earth in the first place from random different historical time periods and Highfather kidnapped them as babies. Okay???

The Forever People are perhaps Kirby's purest and most optimistic characters, and this cynical take on them actively angered me even though I don't actually care about them at all. I've also basically never cared for J. M. DeMatteis's writing outside of JLI, and I don't like Paris Cullins's art, so this book just had absolutely nothing going for it for me.

Cosmic Odyssey: I do not trust Jim Starlin with the New Gods since I know he's going to kill them all off in 2007. This is...fine, I guess? Starlin really does not like Orion, who he has slaughter a bunch of innocent, brainwashed Thanagarians, and also be deeply bigoted against Forager. Everything else is...fine? It's basically all action. The only character who has an emotional arc is John Stewart because this is the story where he fails to save Xanshi because he's being an overconfident moron, but the moral at the end of the comic is like "Get over it already" so...that happens. It's fine.

But man, that Mike Mignola artwork is worth the price of admission alone. That guy's great at drawing.

Mister Miracle Special: The plot of this is that Barda doesn't want Scott to be an escape artist anymore because it's too dangerous, even though a) she's a warrior of Apokalips and b) he's an active Justice League member and she seems fine with that. So okay.

Mister Miracle (1989): Okay, so the basic premise here - Scott and Barda try to adjust to normal life in the suburbs - is good. And it's a spiritual spinoff of JLI, which is of course one of my favorite books of all time. But this book is like...imagine someone screaming "Iiiiiiit's WACKY!" over your shoulder constantly while you're reading. That's what reading Mister Miracle (1989) is like. Highfather wears a tuxedo! Funky Flashman shows up a lot! Scott fights a giant alien noodle! Some of it is actually funny, but most of it is trying so hard to be funny that it's just exhausting.

There are some interesting character moments in there. Scott, Barda, and Orion all get to call Highfather out. Orion mentions wishing he was closer to Scott. There are hints at Scott's depression and suicidal tendencies, which I find really fascinating. But all of it is always immediately overshadowed by ZANINESS.

Anyway, I think we as DC fans deserve a do-over with a new Scott and Barda book about their lovingly domestic (kinky) life together on Earth that is funny but not desperately mugging for laughs in every panel. And I think it should be set in Vegas where Scott has a residency. Call me, DC!

New Gods (1989): This book was mostly written by Mark Evanier (a couple issues were by Starlin), who was one of Kirby's assistants back when he was originally creating the Fourth World, so you might think it would feel the closest to a continuation of Kirby's vision. Instead, I am making it Exhibit A in my argument for why a character should never be assigned to a writer who obviously fucking hates their guts.

I mean, I don't know that Evanier hates Orion. But boy does he write him like he does. Starlin's Orion (who again, we get a couple issues of here) is a monster, but Evanier's Orion is just an incompetent idiot, forever slamming himself against the brick wall of his inevitably becoming his father. Almost every single issue has at least one character, often multiple characters, bemoaning Orion's absolutely unproductive violence and inability to learn or comprehend basic concepts that should not be at all new to him after living most of his life on New Genesis (i.e. justice, mercy, compassion). Even fucking Kalibak is like "Wow, you're a useless idiot." Kalibak! The king of useless idiots!

The comic is so into hating on Orion that it hates on him when he's not actually doing anything bad; at one point he walks into a nuclear reaction that's melting down in a desperate attempt to stop it before it kills everyone, and Big Bear is like "Wow, he's just like his father." REALLY, BIG BEAR? Show me the comic where Darkseid risks his life to save thousands of strangers. I'll wait.

This series also features:

a hawkish, bloodthirsty New Genesis military leader who keeps trying to overthrow Highfather, which both seems to undercut the whole point of New Genesis as well as Orion's uniqueness as The Angry Guy;

an Earth woman with the worst gaydar in the universe repeatedly failing to fuck an increasingly uncomfortable Lightray;

but then Lightray falls in love with a dead woman he never met?;

also Orion gets a crush on a bug lady and learns to stop being racist against bugs (she's not impressed and good for her)

and Lightray and Orion parade around Earth in the WORST fashions of the late 80s/early 90s, which is about all this book has going for it.

Anyway it was bad and I'm glad I'm done with it. Next up: the 90s!

[piastrinorris]

busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

masterlist | prev. | next

Tags: Timewasters (series), modern!au, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love™, fluff, some angst, swearing and mentions of adult themes throughout, eventual adult content, alcohol content, drug content, penbury is a fanon surname

Word count: 8.9k

A/N: Holy shit, look at this! One month to finish one chapter, and then I churn out another in 5 days. Who am I?!

Seriously, your response to last chapter blew me away. That's what got me writing so quick. That, and I can't bear our Ralphie being sad, lol. This is a very Ralph-centric chapter, so I hope you enjoy! <3

Also, this chapter introduces what may be my most favourite character yet. I can't wait to write more of her.

Set your alarm to a sound you like, they said. You’ll wake up in a better mood, they said. Guaranteed good start to the day, they said. You don’t even remember putting your phone on charge last night. You remember getting out of the taxi. You remember opening the door. You remember going up the stairs. You remember face-planting into the bed. But you don’t even remember getting your phone back out from where you’d put it.

Something doesn’t feel right about the bed, though. You roll over and notice there’s no other weight pressing down on the mattress. Turning yourself fully, you see that Ralph’s not in the bed with you. Neither are his pillows. His phone is charging on his nightstand, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Until you see some movement out of the corner of your eye, and look down to see him asleep on the floor. He’s brought his pillows down with him, but he’s only got his coat to cover him. Leaning across the mattress, you reach down over the side of it to prod him. “Hey. Ralph. C’mon, get into bed.” He grunts, shaking his head around until his face is buried into the pillow. You tut and groan, “Fuck’s sake, I’m taking a shower and then going downstairs, so just… Stop being so bloody awkward and get some decent sleep, at least.”

Holding your head as you shake it, you clamber out of the bed and trundle your way into the bathroom. Poking at the remnants of last night’s face, you try and save as much of your skin’s condition as you can by taking a wipe to it before you get into the shower.

The shower takes far longer than usual, as if you’re not already running behind on your own schedule. As you watch the water run down your limbs, words echo in your head. Having you at my ankles 24/7 is fucking exhausting. Tell me the truth already, it’ll hurt less. For fuck’s sake, Ralph, I don’t want you gone! I’m just a -thing now. Tipping your head up, you let every stream of water punch you in the face, cleansing you of all the negativity that last night had left on you. 

Once you’re finally washed, dried and dressed, you don’t even bother checking if Ralph got into the bed before you go back downstairs. The friends that are awake so far greet you gingerly, and you groan, your face wincing. “Do you guys -”

“We’ve already agreed that we’re Switzerland here,” Connor interjects. “We don’t know your side. We barely know Ralph’s, he was a wreck.” You let out another small groan. “And it’s obviously very fresh so we won’t pry,” he holds his hands up.

“But, we are still here for the both of you, however you need us,” Scott nods.

You nod back, “’Preciate it, thanks. I was actually gonna ask if - I’ll happily take back anyone’s bags, to make room, but I was wondering if… Any of you had space, if you could… Take him home for me, I’d be super grateful.”

“He can come back with us,” Anna looks over at Scott and his partner, who both nod back.

“We’ll take care of him. Take the time you need,” Scott comforts you with a warm hug across the shoulders.

Once you hear one more person coming down the stairs, you feel your insides turn to lead in seconds. Grabbing some toast, you sneak your way through the ground floor rooms so that you can get back to the stairs without having to face him again.

Quickly filtering through the clothes in Ralph’s - your suitcase that he’s using, you can tell he’s gotten dressed for the day, so collecting his remainders and packing them, as well as your own, you get to loading up your car. Anna and the boys helpfully take their bags out, too, offering hugs and words of sympathy and gratitude.

“Ralph mentioned something about wanting to go somewhere before we leave, so we’ll probably be a bit late back, okay?” Anna tells you. “You gonna be alright?”

You nod, “I think it’ll do me good to have some me time.”

“I do, too. Just don’t get too angry and do something stupid, ’kay?” Anna makes you promise and gives you one final hug before you head out onto the road.

As you set your phone up to start playing music for the drive home, you notice the notifications on your lock screen:

Missed call (12)

Voicemail (9)

With a heavy sigh, you leave them on the screen, at least until you get to a service station. After filling the car up, getting some snacks and a drink for the journey, and getting back on the road, you finally bite the bullet and start playing the voicemails through your car’s speaker:

“How dare you run out on me?! You didn’t even give me a fighting chance to truly say my piece, I thought that very unfair of you. Need I remind you that all of this is extremely new to me, not to mention completely terrifying?! Life as I know it is gone, and I don’t know when I can go back. How can you not see that from my point of view?!”

“I was only looking out for you, you know. It wasn’t proper, the way he was around you. You didn’t see the way he was looking at you, like you were a piece of meat, it was vulgar. And especially while you were under the influence of alcohol, how advantageous for him! What with you being so far from home, I was simply intervening to make sure you were safe!”

“And what on earth made you think that I see you as a replacement for my own mother?! For one thing, Mother never even did any of her own cooking or cleaning. I thought you were a friend. Friends don’t leave their friends stranded in loud places that they don’t know, half a hundred miles away from another place they don’t even know anymore!”

“Don’t you even worry yourself any further. As soon as we get back to London, I’m making it priority number one to go and find that old man and demanding he take me back to my own time again. I don’t care that he told you that it was random, I’ll sleep under the bridge with him for however long is needed if that’s what it takes to get me back to my home. That’s what you want, and so that’s what I’ll do. If I’m going to be an unwanted presence, I may as well do it in a time and a place that I know, where I have enough money to my name that people will at least pretend to like me without ever telling me they don’t!”

“I’ve made a terrible mistake here. I was getting upset and so I went outside for some fresh air, and then I wanted to go home too, but I can’t do that without money and so I started walking in the direction that I thought was the sea, but now I fear I’ve gone too far. I’m going to turn back. I hope I haven’t accidentally made any turns that I’ve forgotten about. Oh, what a fool I am. Stupid, stupid, stupid Ralph. Why am I even on the phone, it’s not like you can help me now. Or that you’d want to.”

“I’ve given up on walking now, I’m just sitting on the edge of the path. People keep dropping coins next to me. Perhaps those can be a consolation fee to you. Or perhaps this is how I earn my keep after all. Everybody pity poor, pathetic Ralph. Not enough to stop his father going through his staff as if our home doubled as a brothel, not enough to save his mother from the heartbreak of Father’s death. Not enough for Victoria to ever even consider me more than the social title we both held together being who we are. Not even enough to keep the only person who ever cared about me to stay.”

“Oh blast, what have I done? I don’t want to lose you. I - Just because I had promised myself that I wouldn’t repea- Gah, don’t do it, Ralph, this isn’t the proper way, stupid -”

“I realise that last message left quite abruptly. Connor found me and took me back to the bar and now we’re waiting for a taxi but I went to the toilet first. And I felt that feeling again when you look at yourself in the mirror and suddenly everything feels all wobbly. And I think I’ve said some very bad things that I can’t remember. But I do know I’m still mad at you, as well. I didn’t want to say any of those things, but you can’t deny you’re not responsible for this fight, too. I hope you’re sleeping well.”

“We are home now. Well, not home home but we are back at the house. I went up to the bedroom but you were already in the middle of the bed, fast asleep. I shan’t wake you, and I suppose I should learn my place at some point. I took the liberty of taking your phone out and putting the charger into it. I couldn’t tell you why I’m still leaving you these messages, I suppose I just… I’m upset with you, but also I want to talk to you, because you know better than anyone how to make me happier again. And I want to talk about all of this, but also I don’t know if that is such a good idea or it’ll just keep dragging this out. But won’t it be worse if we never do? Mother and Father never talked their problems out - not that we’re - oh, I give up.”

You’re not sure how you feel. You want to cry. You want to scream. You want to shake Ralph by his shoulders, but you also want to hug him tightly and let that citrusy scent of his envelop you.

He’s right, though. You want to talk to him, but you also don’t. Because you know that the things you want to say, the things you could say to the Ralph you envision in your head, the real Ralph wouldn’t reply in the same way. He’d probably get defensive and you wouldn’t actually get anywhere because he’d get stubborn and you’d get upset. Or maybe he would hear you out. Maybe you’re just villainising him at the moment because of how fresh the wounds of last night are.

Even so, even if you do start to address every elephant in the room, how far do you allow that to unravel? Do you tell him the truth, that if you don’t spite him for his actions, you’ll only keep forgiving them if only because you can’t bear to think of life without him? Do you stand there and beg for him to never leave the 21st century, consequences be damned? Do you honestly believe your life is some kind of late-2000s rom-com movie?

The closer you get back to London, the more you dwell on certain parts of certain messages. Especially the part about Ralph deciding he’ll live the rest of his days in this era with Homeless Pete. Was he serious about that? You have most of his possessions either with you or back at the flat, but would he come back for them? Would there even be a point? No, you can’t imagine Ralph would last more than twenty minutes out there roughing it. 

But what if he doesn’t come back to you? What if one of your friends agrees to take him in, instead? You’re sure that your relationship with them wouldn’t change in the slightest, but you’re not certain that he would remain neutral. Would he feel too uncomfortable around you? Would there be a home amongst your friends’ that you would no longer be welcome in?

Maybe he is out of your life for good after this. Maybe he is just going to find somewhere else to live until the time machine lift fixes. Maybe going cold turkey is what you need. You were getting too ahead of yourself. And besides, even in a scenario where he really does have no choice but to return, it’s only a matter of time before all of this piles up again, and then you’re right back here. Is it worth putting yourself through this much turmoil time and again for something so fruitless?

But that insinuates that you’ve only ever been helping Ralph for your own ulterior motives. Ralph didn’t come to you seeking anything other than - well, he wasn’t seeking anything out, the poor guy just ended up here. But you happened to find him. And you took him in and gave him the roof over his head that he needed. You kept him fed and comfortable, is that not just something you’d do out of the kindness of your own heart? Is it really fair to turf him out because you can’t keep your feelings in check? Or is it fairer to cut him loose, and let him forge his own path with whomever he wants to, not just the first person he meets?

As you pull into the familiar busy streets of Croydon, you wonder just how far back Anna and the others are. Her last update, and Connor’s, all came at similar times, but where Connor was informing you all that he, Grace and her boyfriend were halfway there, Anna was texting to say they were just leaving Brighton.

Parking your car in its spot, you look up through your windscreen at the towering block of flats, resting your chin against your steering wheel. You know that everything’s just going to remind you of him in there, too. But where else could you go?

~~~

After one final trip to the beachfront, Ralph knew it was time to face the music. No hiding behind false smiles and fake words. Although, maybe he had ruined the chance at fixing things with words, even if they were true. Perhaps you’ll be truly sick of him. The way everyone always is.

Of course, nobody likes a self-pitiful fool. You’d made that abundantly clear last night. But what else is Ralph to do? It’s not wrong. He’s always been second fiddle. Never picked in classes, never favoured by his peers, never favoured by his parents, even the help were always far more charmed by Victoria than they were by him. And Ralph never understood why, he always tried to emulate his sister in every way, but that just wasn’t right, for some reason.

In the car, Anna suggests playing some songs that’ll make Ralph feel better. He agrees, and it does lift his spirits as he hears the familiar voice of his now-favourite singer, but the lyrics bring his mood straight back down again. He frowns, “I thought you said these songs would cheer me up.”

“I said they’d make you feel better,” Anna corrects. “Sometimes when you’re feeling sad, it’s better to just… I dunno, let someone else talk about how you’re feeling. Makes you feel less alone in it all. It’s cathartic.”

And so Ralph spends most of the car journey back in relative silence, forehead pressed against the cool glass of the car window as he argues with himself. What the devil is he supposed to do now?

Yes, he may have told you in the heat of the moment that he'd rather live with that awful man, and yes, in theory that does sound like the perfect solution - it gives you the closure from Ralph that you apparently want, as well as giving him direct access to the only person who can help… put him back. Those words pierce him, etching deeper into his brain every time he thinks them.

But, in reality? Ralph tries to remember the area that you’d taken him to when you’d first talked to that homeless man about how he’d ended up here. He remembers dirty people, dirty mattresses with little to no springs. No place for a Penbury, that’s for sure. Though is Ralph even one at this point?

What does he expect to happen when he goes back in time, back to Penbury House? You’d always encouraged him to tell Victoria to “shove it”, but how well would that be taken? Surely she’d just tell him the same thing and turf him out? She’d have more reason to, it’s been her place of residence and she’d surely have the other four on her side.

And did he want to win Lauren back? DId he want to come back with a bravado that she’d find attractive? Did he really want her to find him attractive anymore? Yes, he’d been drawn to her from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, but she certainly made her intentions with him - or lack thereof - very well-known. Ralph looks in the mirror at Scott and his partner in the back seat, both chatting away as they hold hands. Lauren would never love Ralph like that. 

Scott’s reflection catches Ralph’s eye and raises his eyebrows in slight concern. Ralph simply nods with a small smile. He looks over at Anna, who’s singing along with the song that’s currently playing. She notices his gaze and briefly meets it, gesturing encouragingly as her singing becomes more deliberate. Though Ralph has yet to master lyrics to the songs he now likes, his smile does grow a little bigger as he moves his head from side to side in rhythm with the song. Anna, in turn, beams back at him before focusing on the road once again.

This is the sort of love Ralph always dreamt of having someday. Of course, there’s still more that he’d love to have. He’d love someone to wake up to every morning, to embrace and to kiss and to devote every waking moment to. Oh blast, this is his internal monologue, he can say it; he’d love to wake up to you every morning, to embrace you and to kiss you and to devote every waking moment to you. 

But this sort of love is just as important. Friends who check up on him, and who cheer him up. He’ll miss that once he’s back in his own era. Not that he’d be able to keep it up for much longer if he were to stick around. Your friends are loyal creatures, and you’ve known them for far longer. It would only hurt anyway if he were to stay and they were to pick you.

Though, who’s to say that they would? The words you’d told him days ago echo in his mind. If Ralph wants to be their friend, he has to believe that they want to be his friend, too. And they’ve only ever made him feel like he was part of the group, from the day they met him. Perhaps they’d be willing to remain in contact with Ralph even if you didn’t want to. But wouldn’t that split the group up? Or has Ralph been underestimating you, as a part of the friend group as well, and perhaps you would still remain friends with him after all of this. But could he face you after the things that were said?

And how would he explain himself? You’ve obviously got it in your head that Ralph only intervenes because he wants attention. Does he explain that he wants so much more than that? That he wants a whole life with you? What would be the point in disclosing that now, when obviously Ralph’s destiny would doom any sort of relationship between you. If he knew how long he had, perhaps he could simply keep those thoughts where they already remain, in his imagination. For the sake of the group, and for the sake of just getting to spend as much time around you as possible.

Is that self-destructive of Ralph? Maybe. But if he’s on borrowed time, what’s the use in wasting it? Doesn’t he deserve these fleeting moments of happiness, too? Even if he knows they’ll only end in disaster for him, it’s not as though he’s got a lot going for him, anyway

Before Ralph knows it, he’s starting to recognise certain streets. And then Anna’s stopping outside your block of flats. Ralph gets out, with gracious nods of thanks and grateful smiles to everyone in the car, and waves them off as they drive away. He looks up to the ninth floor windows, eyes squinting with the brightly lit clouds that overcast the late November sky.

Ralph takes a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth. He squares his shoulders up. His eyes still trained on the window he knows is yours, he once again inhales deeply, holds it for a second… And promptly turns on his heel and power-walks down the street.

He’s not sure where he’s going, wherever his legs take him, he supposes. He rounds a corner and is suddenly met by a very familiar face. “Ah! Mister… P-Peter, wasn’t it?” The man grunts and waves his hand from side to side. “You’re the one that brought me here, aren’t you?” The man studies Ralph’s face intently for a moment and then realisation dawns. He clicks his fingers as his eyes widen and he nods, and then before he can react, Homeless Pete grabs Ralph by the arm and leads him back to the building Ralph first emerged from almost 3 months ago.

Ralph looks through the open doors, to the carpeted floors that look unchanged from when he last walked them. The lift doors stare back at him ominously. “Are - are you bringing me here because… Is it time?” Despite the inevitability of this moment, a tidal wave of sadness crashes over Ralph. This is it. The man shrugs and nods. 

Ralph looks at him with sorrowful eyes, “Do you think I have time to say my goodbyes, at least?” Another shrug and a wrinkle of the nose bridge. Ralph is perplexed. “Well, how long have I got?” A shrug, a gesture to himself, a gesture to the lift. Until Mr Peter goes in himself, Ralph deduces. 

He ponders for a moment. “Do you - what would happen, would you say, if I were to… To not go back? Would it affect… You know?” Ralph gesticulates wildly around himself. With a fleeting amused smile, Homeless Pete shakes his head. He gestures to himself, then out to the left. Back to himself, and then out to the right. Another shrug. 

As Ralph’s trying to figure it out, Pete then taps his arm, holds up 4 fingers and looks at Ralph expectantly. He then points to the ground, and holds up the four fingers again. “Oh! Do you mean the four that travelled to us? L-Lauren and the rest?” The name still catches in his throat. Pete nods. He looks all around, in all directions. He shrugs at Ralph. “Do you think life is no different with them staying where they are?” Pete shakes his head.

Ralph could practically feel his brain doing somersaults trying to understand it all. So, perhaps there is a chance for him to stay, after all? But how on earth would that be feasible? He can't do anything that requires legal documentation - he could never get a job, or buy a house, or see a doctor, or travel the world, or get married. What if he became horrifically unwell? Which is the worse fate, to die a slow and physically painful death amongst friends, or a slow and emotionally painful death from a broken heart, all alone?

Even that rides upon the illusion that you and your friends would remain with Ralph until the end of his days. What if you never take him back? What if you do, but the cycle repeats itself until you leave him hung out to dry? While his lady friends are all good company, none of those are exactly chomping at the bit to talk to him. He’s usually the one that starts conversations with them. How could he expect any of them to put him up forevermore? He’d have to disclose the true nature of his existence to them eventually, and what if they took it poorly?

“Could I… Have some time to mull this over, please?” Ralph eventually asks. A grunt. Four fingers up. A point to the ground. “You would like to reconvene at 4pm?” A nod. “Very well, I shall return by 4pm promptly.”

Ralph turns away and starts walking in whatever direction he’s stopped at. He keeps walking, hoping to outrun the swarm of conflicting thoughts trying to consume his head, until he hits the high street. At the end of it, another familiar building. Far older than the rest. With a big black sign hanging off of the side wall that has a big white W on it.

Ralph approaches the bookstore as though his legs are moving him there automatically, completely independently from his own volition. He stops himself as he gets close, though - letting someone pass breaks him out of his trance. Watching so many people going in and out of his front door. He recognises a dark plaque by the side of it - it’s much too far away for Ralph to read it, but he doesn’t need to. He knows what it says by heart. Penbury House, est. 1898. It was a wedding present from Ralph’s maternal grandparents so that his parents may start a family. Oh, how his mother’s family loved that she were married to Lord Penbury. She was no lowly peasant herself, of course, but a Lord, no less!

Ralph always resented inheriting that title. It made him just like his father. And it was his father’s penchant for… Whatever he was doing with that young woman, that led to his untimely demise. A real stain on the Penbury name. If not for the twins turning their reputation around to being total carefree socialites, with free rein of a mansion, complete with the family wealth, and no parental guidance, they surely would have had no leg to stand on.

Taking another deep breath, Ralph marches past the old oak doors and into what was once his hallway. Cash registers adorn the hallway, along with a Customer Service desk right up at the front. Ralph approaches it and asks meekly, “Excuse me, do you know much of the history of this building?”

“Uhh, I know some super rich family owned it until the daughter blew all their money and it was repo’ed. Someone made it into a bookstore and then, big capitalism over here,” they gesture wildly with their arms, “Waterstone’s bought it out. As far as I know, they obviously didn’t keep any of the furniture but all of the walls and floors and that are restored as best they can be.”

Of course Victoria wasted all their family’s fortune away. With the help of those four, no doubt. Ralph wonders whether that means he really is needed back in his own era. To keep her from ruining the Penbury name. With a small nod of thanks to the staff member, he slowly starts to walk around the hallowed halls.

The dining area, filled with aisles of jigsaw puzzles and card games, like the ones he was playing with your friends over the past week. What a strangely apt crossover of Ralph’s two worlds, he thinks to himself. In the next room, there are craft supplies and children’s games all around it. Children run laps around their parents. What a strange sight to behold in a kitchen, though now it looks as though there was never a stove in it. The living area is absolutely chock-full of books. Piles and piles. “Best Selling”. “New In Stock”. “Booktok Finds”, whatever that means. There’s a couple on a book cover in a display titled “Modern Romance” who look a lot like a cartoon version of Scott and his partner. If he could, Ralph would have liked to buy them it.

He thinks back to the ukulele that Connor had bought him. Although he’d had no means of paying him back, Ralph had tried to insist on paying Connor back in some way, but he’d shrugged him off, insisting that it was “fine” and “’s just what mates do, innit?” No matter how much he racks his brain, Ralph can’t remember a time when anyone ever bought him a gift. On his birthday, he’d get presents for little boys, but not necessarily for Ralph. Footballs and train sets and toy soldiers. He had far more fun on Victoria’s rocking horse, or even games as simple as a hoop and stick, though running through the house with them always ended with harsh words and a harsher reception from his father’s cane.

The door leading out to the garage has a sign on it that says [Staff Only]. Clerks would walk in empty-handed and come out again with arms full. He assumes that’s where the inventory is kept.

He notices that there are people running up and down the stairs, and asks the very helpful clerk at the front if it’s okay to go up there. They tell him it is, and explain that there is a cordoned off area for staff only, but that there are plenty more books to be found, as well as some toilets if that’s what he’s looking for. He assures them that it isn’t, but he thanks them again regardless. 

Victoria’s quarters are now the staff quarters. The bathroom… Still serves some of its purposes. The master bedroom and his father’s office are all also filled with bookshelves. It almost feels like an invasion of privacy, seeing all these people walk through rooms that even Ralph and Victoria were forbidden from, back in the day.

Which leaves one more room. Taking a moment to compose himself, he steps into what used to be his bedroom and is met with the most amazing smells. Sounds of china clinking against itself as cups find saucers. The gentle chatter of people sitting in what appears to be a small cafe. So many people in his space. Nothing to suggest it was ever the room he grew up in.

He’s stood by a counter, looking around while lost in thought, when the barista behind the counter gets his attention. “Everything okay, sir? Would you like anything?”

Ralph coughs out, “Oh, please, I’m no sir. Um, it’s fine, I haven’t… Brought any money with me or anything. Just here to look around.”

Nodding slowly while frowning, the barista steps away for a moment before returning and sliding a full cup of saucer his way. “Oh, no!” they say in a very deliberate tone. “I seem to have made this all wrong for one of my customers, and I would hate to waste it! Would you mind taking it off my hands, so my boss doesn’t see?”

Ralph looks perplexed. “But I just saw you - and how could you possibly go wrong with tea, you’ve not put any milk in yet or -”

They wave him off. “You look like you need it. Call it my good deed for the day. What milk should I “accidentally” put in?” They make air quotes with their fingers, which makes Ralph chuckle. 

He tells them which milk he’d prefer and they add it to his liking - “accidentally,” Ralph repeats the motions back to the barista who smiles back. “Should I tell others of your good deed, or do you wish for it to remain unknown?”

They grin widely. “Maybe no photos, but you can subtweet me if you like.”

Ralph frowns. “What’s a sub-tweet?”

“You can tweet about it without mentioning any specifics about me,” they explain. “Big fan, by the way.”

Ralph looks elated, but then his face falls. “Would - Are you going to ask me for a photo?”

“Oh god, no, I don’t think either of us are prepared for that! This chat’s been more than enough for me,” they smile at him once more before serving the next customer.

Ralph takes the cup with a warmth in his heart as he finds a free table that, once he’s sat at, is in the exact same placement as though he were sat at his own bed. He rubs his thumb back and forth across the rim of the cup, replaying that little conversation over and over. Being shown such a genuine act of kindness, with the person getting absolutely no personal gain from it, and within the walls of his own home, as well - sure, the people who wanted photos was flattering enough, but for once, someone just wanted to connect with Ralph. To validate that they didn’t think him an annoyance.

That gets him thinking yet again. About all of the times in this building he’s heard, “Not now, Ralph!” “For crying out loud, boy, will you stop?!” “Ugh, what is it now, hm?!” And about how he hasn’t heard a single utterance of any of those phrases since living with you. 

Maybe it was never Ralph that was annoying - you never made him feel that way, even at the beach when he was trying to help you find your rock. Every time Ralph tried to help, you were never unkind. Even when he would get too excited and hand you one that he’d already done before, you telling him, “You’ve already shown me that one!” was accompanied with laughter. What a sweet sound that was. Ralph misses it so. Even when the day’s excursion was unsuccessful because he got distracted playing with a child, you were completely unperturbed by it.

Maybe Ralph isn’t annoying. Maybe you were just the first selfless person out there who had the patience for him. Maybe…

Ralph shoves his hands into his coat pockets and feels around. He feels something large and leaves it be, and then feels something long and smooth. He takes out the photo reel of the two of you and looks at each photo. He’d have never been allowed to pose for any of the Penbury family portraits like this. Not even the soft smiles in the top one. The smile that looks so good on you. How could Ralph ever want to do anything other than make you feel like that all of the time?

As he sips his tea, his thumb absent-mindedly rubs over the bottom photo. Ralph couldn’t believe his luck, to feel your lips on his face. Of course, he had plenty more from the rest of your friends, but it wasn’t the same. How lucky Ralph was on that day. How happy the two of you were. He’d do anything to make sure you were that happy, again.

Anything.

He pockets the photos carefully, before finishing his tea in one big gulp, thanking the barista silently but profusely, and making his way out of Penbury House once more.

He wasn’t exactly expecting Homeless Pete to be waiting outside of the building the whole time, and so it’s a rather charming surprise to see him there still. Ralph stays back for a few moments, figuring out what his next words will be to Pete, since they’ll likely be the last he addresses them with. Once he’s decided, after several minutes of deliberating, he takes a deep breath and strides up to the other man.

“Mister Peter, after thinking long and hard about this, I have decided I wish to stay. I just feel as though I still have -”

Homeless Pete cuts him off with a grunt before turning around and shuffling into the building. Ralph frowns at the sight of the back of him. He was so looking forward to getting certain things off of his chest, and it was such a big decision to make, now it all feels rather anticlimactic. It’s rather underwhelming, if he’s being honest.

Turning back and walking down the high street, he sees what appears to be a costume store of sorts. There’s a suit jacket that Ralph rather likes the look of, but it’s paired with the most hideous colour combination. Looking around at the rest of the window display, he recognises the style of tasselled dress on the second mannequin with great familiarity, though something puzzles him about the display. There’s a board on it that specifically states, “Party like it’s 1922”, but these colours were not in season at all! What an amateur display of affairs. The only thing that remains true to that year are the trousers of the suit, but again, the top half is all wrong.

Ralph does spot something on the rack behind that looks like it would go well, though. And he’s strangely taking this display very personally. Once again working on autopilot, he marches into the store and promptly starts stripping down the suited mannequin. Finding a more appropriate shirt and tie to go along with the outfit he’s designing in his head, he starts muttering nonsensically to himself under his breath. 

He doesn’t notice the store clerk, who’s been watching him with amazed confusion at the sheer audacity of his actions, creeping up to him until they ask, “Sir? Can I help you?”

“Oh, heavens!” Ralph yelps before letting a laugh bubble out from his lips. “Made me jump. No, thank you, I’m perfectly fine as I am!”

“…Right.” They slowly back away into a back room, out of Ralph’s perception. Not that he was watching, anyway, he’s on the lookout for a dress that complements his new suit layout far better.

Just as he’s pulling the dress over the mannequin’s head - blindly, as he has his head turned away from it and his eyes squeezed shut, for good measure - an older woman with a kindly face approaches him. “Hello there, love. Did my employee’s window display offend you, by any chance?” she asks in a Cockney accent.

“Oh!” Another yelp causes him to jump up on the spot. “You’re a sneaky pair, aren’t you! Yes, I’m terribly sorry, it’s awfully rude of me, but you see… The colour palette was all too wrong for the year 1922 anyway, and even then, nothing really complemented each other. I just thought this looked more cohesive, and… Honestly, I’ve no idea what came over me, the more I stand here the more of an utter fool I feel for being so inappropriate, I truly hope you can forgive me but I understand if you can’t, I shall leave immediately,” he hangs his head as he rambles, but the woman pats his arm.

“Chatty li’ul thing, int’cha?” She grins. “Name’s Florence, but don’t call me that, everyone calls me Babs. Always have since I were a kid.” She provides no further context, which Ralph tries not to dwell on as she continues, “Look, ’ere’s the fing, I ain’t the spring chicken I used to be, and I’ve been lookin’ for a fresh pair o’ hands. You seem to have an eye for this sorta fing. Fancy a job ’ere?”

Ralph’s eyes widen. “Oh, I, um, I can’t - I’m not… resgistered with any… Banks, you see,” he scrambles to think of a decent excuse, his eyes squeezing shut and his fingers curling in and stretching out.

Babs, however, screeches out a cackle. “Oh, ain’t you a - ’ere, in’t he a crack-up?” She asks the person behind the counter, who nods without looking up, with the air of someone very used to Babs’ personality. “You and me, darlin’, we’re one and the same. I don’t trust them toffs at the bank, neither! They want my money, they can prise it out me cold, dead hands! That’s why I pay cash in hand, sweed’art, all I ask is you show up a few days a week and I’ll pay ya for ’em. How’s that sound?”

A job with no ties to needing any sort of administration? Sounds too good to be true. But Ralph doesn’t care in this moment. “Oh, Ms. Babs, this really does solve such a gaping issue for me, you have no idea how indebted I am, thank you so very much,” he gushes as he shakes her hand enthusiastically.

She laughs, “Calm it, Kermit, I’ve already ’ad an ’ip replaced, I’d like to keep both me ’ands if I can ’elp it!” Ralph lets go as though she’s electrocuted him, which only makes her laugh more. “Go on, away wiv ya. See ya Monday, 9 sharp! We’ll talk shop more then. And you can drop that Ms malarkey, an’ all!”

Ralph smiles and bows at her, then at the other clerk, then at Babs again, who waves him away with a warm smile. Turning on his heel, Ralph’s filled with a confidence he’s never felt before as he strides back down the high street. Perhaps he could do it all. Perhaps he could even tell you how he truly feels about you.

Or, once the tower block comes into view, he could freeze up entirely at the thought. How presumptuous of him, to assume you’d reciprocate. Ralph would be lucky if you were to talk to him again after last night’s display. And what would he even say to you? Is it worth all of the mental energy to plan a whole monologue in advance, or would you simply repeat the other man’s actions, and slam the door in his face before he got the chance to say his piece?

Taking a deep breath in, squaring his shoulders and balling his fists up, he finally marches his way into the building, pressing the call button for the lift with such force that the arrow imprints in the pad of his thumb. As he’s waiting for it to come down, a familiar sound from behind him surprises him, as he turns to face whoever caused it.

~~~

Once you’re in your flat, wrestling both your bag and the suitcase into the lift with you and practically juggling them as you try to unlock your door, you take Ralph’s stuff and quickly throw it all into the bedroom, shutting the door and metaphorically shutting everything to do with Ralph in there. Except this had been his home for the last 3 months, so everything everywhere reminds you of him. Shaking your head, you go to your bag, throw everything that isn’t clothing out of it and take it out to the launderette with you. Keep out of the house, keep busy. Just until your mind stops swimming.

You watch your clothes spin around in the soapy water and wish you could do the same to your brain. What do you do with Ralph? Do you forgive him? Do you not? Do you seek his forgiveness? What if he doesn’t forgive you? 

You’re still very sure that your anger was valid. But perhaps not all of it was justified. You’ve been putting an awful lot of emotional weight on the idea of Ralph. Imagining him as the perfect boyfriend, and then trying to see the worst in him to combat those feelings. That doesn’t sound like someone with a winning argument in the real world.

Something about not having the security of having Ralph safe at home has you feeling a sense of numbness. Time passes without you even noticing. You’re not doing anything to help it along. Just sitting, staring, pondering.

Once you’re back home, you check the time and frown. Based on the time Anna said she was leaving, she should have been back well before now. You text:

Panicking, you then text the group:

Pacing the flat, your mind races more than ever. What if he’s hurt? Or worse? Or what if H.P’s found him because the time machine’s finally working now? What if he’s just walking the streets because he doesn’t want to return home? What if he really is living with the vagrants? What if he’s just doing all of this to make you panic over him? Truly, anything’s possible. Truly. He’s even in your head, now.

You look out through your window, uselessly from this high up. You know your friends said that you should stay at the flat, and it makes sense, in case he does come back. But what if he doesn’t? What if he’s lost? What if you need to be out there?

No. You’re useless to him and to your friends if your mind’s frazzled. You try asking your Echo if it can play you some music before remembering that a certain someone rendered it useless to you. You try and flick through your TV options but none of them are a worthy distraction.

After some frantic cleaning, you swear you’re starting to hear voices. Who else would be talking out in the hallway? Could it be? But who would he be talking to?

You press your ear to the door and pure relief washes over you as you hear the sweet, familiar tone of a man born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Running to grab your phone, you hurriedly text them to call off the search before swinging the door open.

“- dunno how the fuck she even got out, let alone all the way down there."

"Must have been the stairs, though it would be rather humorous if she learned how to operate the lift all by herself, wouldn't it?" Ralph chortles. Fuck, you've missed the sound of his laugh, and it's only been a day.

"Alright, look who's here!" Your neighbour cheers as they see you. They're standing in their open doorway, while Ralph is in the hall cradling Cheese the cat. Quickly, while his eyes haven't met yours yet, you snap a picture of Ralph holding his feline friend to send as a quick update to the group.

When Ralph looks around to see you, his eyes immediately fill with delight, then remorse, then excitement, then dejection, finally settling on looking at you with intent to gauge your reaction. Your neighbour, oblivious, continues, "Literally, mate, I owe you so much for finding her. Name your price."

"Oh, nonsense, just knowing she's safe and home is reward enough for me," Ralph scratches her just beneath her jaw as he rocks her like a baby, to which she purrs loud enough for even you to hear. The same cat who you'd had to being out of hiding before by standing in the doorway and throwing ham into your neighbour's flat until she came out to eat it.

"Well, if you think of anything, you let me know. I just hope nobody told the big man that they saw a cat walking around when we're not meant to have them," your neighbour grimaces.

"Ahh, if I catch wind of any grasses, I'll sort them out," you smirk before turning to Ralph again. "Ready to go?"

Ralph's big doe eyes bore into yours as he nods, gently putting the cat down and then quickly making his way back into your flat.

"He's a good'un really, isn't he?" Your neighbour simpers.

Watching him go, your wistful smile remains even as you look back at your neighbour. "Yeah. Remember what I told you when you first met him? Harmless."

"Yeah, yeah. You would think that," they smile knowingly. Narrowing your eyes, confused, you simply wave them off and go back through your door

Ralph seems to have shut himself in your room. You feel as though he's probably got a reason why he wants to avoid you, and there's many a thing you don't want to hear from him, either. But you've felt a fraction of what it would be like to lose him and that alone was torturous. Every time you felt bad all day, you only wanted to talk to Ralph. Now that you finally have the opportunity to, you're not going to waste it. Just remember to rein it in.

You knock on the door. You step back. He opens it. You exchange similar looks of curiosity, but something about him being here and in front of you overpowers you and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in to hug him tightly. His arms snake around your sides, and you feel his hands splay out against your back and press into it. It’s a hug that says it all. It apologises and it forgives, a crossover of exchanges between you. He smells like coffee shops and second-hand smoke, but the familiar scent of Ralph still remains as you bury your face into him.

When he pulls away from you, it’s to hold you at arm’s length with a gleeful glint in his eye. “I’ve got some news for you.”

Your heart sinks. Surely, anything that’s good for him that’s happened over the course of today can’t be good for you. But you wouldn’t be a good friend if you weren’t supportive. So you put on a smile and ask, “Oh, yeah?”

“I’ve got a job!” he singsongs, skipping on the spot. You look at him incredulously, and he explains. “It’s a bespoke costume store, run by this… Rather eccentric character, and it pays cash in hand! So I can earn some money and pay you back!”

You rub your face. “Look, Ralph, when I said those things -”

“That was a justified cause for concern, and I wish to rectify it. I, myself, said things that I did mean and things that I didn’t. But I don’t think it’ll do us good to talk about that too much.”

“I don’t either,” you smile back. “I’m glad you’ve found something to keep you occupied. Though, what about when… You know… Lift’s back in service?”

Ralph pauses. Does he tell you that he's willing to take the risk and stay as long as he can? Would you trust Homeless Pete as a reliable source or would you assume Ralph was stupid for doing so? He feels far too fragile to have another argument. And so he simply shrugs, "Then I shall have to do some awful things very quickly to ensure I'd never be welcomed!"

You laugh loudly, "Ralph!" and he grins back at you.

"Oh, and before I take this coat off…" he starts, shoving his fists into his pockets.

"Ah, yeah, we can put that reel on the fridge!” You grin, but Ralph shakes his head.

“Well, yes, but also… Um, well, I had noticed that due to my incessant bothering, you’d, um, forgotten to actually pick out a stone from the beach,” Ralph starts.

You interrupt him with a groan, slapping your forehead with the heel of your hand. “Oh my god, I forgot my cool rock this year!”

“W-well, I went back earlier this morning - goodness, was it only this morning?” Ralph asks under his breath. “Anyway, um, I know this is… Probably… A very easy shape to mistake a rock to be, but I didn’t remember seeing it on the shelf and so…” You look down, and in the palm of Ralph’s hand sits a stone that’s in a near-perfect heart shape.

“Oh, Ralphie,” you gush, pressing your hand to your chest. Even after everything last night, he still went out of his way to find that for you. If he hadn’t clarified that it was merely an easy shape to find, you’d have questioned the nature of it specifically, but he had, so there’s no need to look deeper into it. You have your answer.

“Well, I just thought even though it might not have been worthy enough for you to have picked, you still get to keep your tradition this year,” he explains hurriedly. “I know it’s just a circle with a dent in it, but -”

“But it came from you, and it’s unique to the shelf, so it’s absolutely living there,” you insist, pushing his fingers to curl up around the smooth stone and holding his hand there for a few beats. Not wanting to linger too long, you snap back and clear your throat. “Why not put it on there, I’ll order us a takeaway, and we’ll find something trashy to put on, yeah?” Ralph nods meekly and you practically float over to the sofa, you’re that happy to just have your Ralph back, for however long that may be.

“Oh, hey, good news and bad-ish news on your front,” you shout to him in the other room. “Good news is, everyone seems to be over making their icons the photo of you flapping about microwaving the egg!”

He frowns as he pops back into view. “And the bad?”

You show him the sea of icons, all Ralph, all wearing a polo shirt, all stood behind the painting that hangs on the back wall, all with a rose in his mouth. “I think they’ve found your Tinder.”

Ralph groans as he approaches the sofa to sit down next to you, and you rest your head on his shoulder comfortingly. You don't feel the need to move it as you pick out a movie you think Ralph will like. "Here, this one's good," you point out. "It's another musical, you like those."

"I do!" Ralph lilts excitedly. "What's it all about?"

"Okay, so in the seventies, there was this insanely popular group of singers called ABBA..."

next chapter

[thechildofmythal]

Tag 9 people you want to know about

Her Ballsakkness @cullenssweatyballsakk tagged me. Yes I absolutely assumed the pronoun please let me know

Last song: Porcupine tree - Arriving somewhere but not here

Favorite color: Dramatic jewel tones, like emerald and ruby and so on. Now that autumn is coming I'm also drawn to colours like burgundy, tile red/orange and aubergine.

Currently reading: Yoko Ogawa - Memory Police

Currently watching: Nothing at the moment. I should pick up Lupin season 3 and Umbrella Academy season 4. I'd also like to try the 3 Body Problem and The Gentlemen and the new Ripley with Andrey Scott.

Last movie: Inception! It was better than I remembered.

Sweet, spicy or savory: Sweet. I'm like an addict.

Relationship status: Married, no kids.

Current obsession: Cullen Rutherford, oh man oh man. Also Alistair Theirin. And the Edwin Romance Mod for Baldur's Gate 2 (HOLLA IF YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT) along with my Bhaalspawn OC for BG2. And I'm starting to get excited about Veilguard and my Rook because I've decided her faction and origin as far as I can without playing or spoiling myself too much.

Tea or coffee: Porque no los dos! Coffee in the morning, tea in the evening.

Age: 37.

About Me: I'm from a small obscure country, I wish I had a cat or two, I'm eating chocolate right now as I'm writing this, I'm sad that summer is almost gone because I'm not a winter person at all.

Likes: Bioware games, especially the Dragon Age series. Warm but dark August nights (I'm sad it's already September!). The smell of foreign airports just after you've landed. I've also just gotten into Fontaines DC and they're pretty cool. Not as cool as Idles but I like them.

If you want to know something else, just ask! <3

Here are some tags but no pressure either way: @sweetjulieapples @swordbisexual but I think you've maybe done this already @laurelsofhighever @wilchur

[meredith-harper81]

Part Of Your World🫀

Prepping for the Oscars 🏆

Chapter 2:

Pairing: Chris Evans x Elyse Harper

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 1k

‼️More Chapters are uploaded on Wattpad.. link in my bio :)‼️ Elyse Pov

I woke up startled, by a loud ringing.

"Jesus Christ," I open my eyes and adjust to the light coming into the room. I curse myself and remind myself to close the curtains next time I sleep as the sun is coming in hot. I come to my senses and realize my phone is ringing.

As I go to answer, I see it is Dakota, face timing.

"Why are you awake right now?" I say groaning while jumping out of bed and shutting the curtains and running back to the warmth of my bed....

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you... I just didn't make the flight yesterday. I'm still in the East Coast time zone," she says and her voice sounds sick.

"Dakota, don't tell me you're sick," I say with a bit of sadness in my voice.

" I'm sorry babe, the flu hit last week on set and I tried to avoid it but look at me now," she says as she coughs.

Now that I am fully awake. I take a good look at her, and she doesn't look too good.

"That's okay. Take care of yourself. Sebastian is attending and will just have to replace you this weekend...Thanks for that, by the way, I wink at her... Rest. I'll speak to you soon then". I tell her.

"Enjoy and don't stress Elyse and try to have a good time... break a leg and tell Chris I said Hi," she says before she hangs up and I roll my eyes at her.

I decided to stay in bed a little longer since today is supposed to be a relaxing day.

Today's to-do list is a workout and go to the hotel booked for tomorrow.

I eventually ended up falling back asleep.

Soon I wake up on my own accord and check the time. Only to see it's now 12:30 in the afternoon.

I get out of bed, wash my face, brush my teeth and make my way downstairs, and make myself something to eat.

As I'm eating some toast, my stomach starts to cramp badly. I think nothing of it and I get a quick workout in.

After I've showered and changed for the day, I head back downstairs and Maria hands me my protein shake and tells me to have a good day.

I get a phone call from Haley, she tells me I'm needed sooner at the hotel. I get in the car, pop a Tylenol and drive myself to the hotel with a raging headache and sore back.

"Great start to this weekend," I mumble to myself.

Chris Pov

I grab my NASA cap and put it on as we are preparing for landing. I thank the flight attendant and the pilot as I'm waiting for my ride to pull into the airstrip.

The flight attendant asks for a picture. I happily take one with him. I tell him to have a good day as a car pulls in. I sit in the back and dial Scott. I let him know I had landed safely and to let Ma know.

" Chris, do not screw this, and all the best man," He says as I roll my eyes and hang up.

I stare out the window and look to see we were approaching traffic.

I check on Google Maps and notice it's going to be a long drive home with all this traffic. LA Traffic sucks, I mumble to myself, now feeling annoyed.

I was hoping I would be able to spend more time in Boston after filming, but I guess after this will have to do.

Finally, after a long two hours, I make my way inside my house.

I go take a quick shower and put on some shorts and a red T-shirt.

As I do so I notice some of Willow's things are still in the closet. I debate about throwing them out.

I end up calling Megan and tell her I've arrived. I also tell her the Willow situation and she tells me she'll handle it by tomorrow if I leave my house keys under the mat.

Megan informs me Ilaria, my stylist, is coming over to drop off my suit for tomorrow. I hang up and she tells me she will see me tomorrow afternoon.

In the meantime, I give Mackie a call since he will also be in attendance tomorrow, asking him to pop by and we can hang out have some dinner.

Ilaria comes and drops off the suit and tells me what to do with my hair. Plus, she gives me some shoe options.

Mackie agrees and is on his way over as Ilaria leaves. She tells me she is exhausted and had a long day and tomorrow is an even longer day with her newer clients.

She wishes me all the best tomorrow and to call her if there is any problem.

It's now late and Mackie is coming over soon, so start to make dinner. A classic kale salad with some chopped chicken and rice.

I grab two plates and a 6 pack and head to the living room just in time as the bell rings.

I go to greet Mackie, I bring him over to the living room and we turn on a football game and discuss Marvel things and just catch up, and have a few beers.

" So... I hear you are presenting with Elyse Harper tomorrow?" He says as he takes a sip.

"You heard right, my man," I say as I blush a little.

We get to talking and I tell him how at first I didn't know who she was.

"Are you living under a rock, Chris... I mean come on dude, she's gorgeous... how have you not heard or seen her?" He questions.

I shake my head and laugh. "I don't know man, I guess I've been too busy with work, and with my ex," I say with a bit of sadness laced in my voice.

Mackie pats my back, "Well, you're meeting her super soon man," He tells me.I nod and smile.

"Do you think she's dating someone Mackie?... I mean have you seen her...," I say, blushing like a 5-year-old.

"Chris man, I have never seen you blush so hard when talking about someone, but I hate to toot your horn... but... she's never dated anyone... As far as the media knows... She's super private," Mackie says.

I give him a shocked look. " I don't know man maybe, she has never been spotted on TMZ or Dailymail, I guess you will have to wait till tomorrow to find out, and maybe meet Mr. Mystery Man," He says patting my shoulder. I give a small smile.

We finished the 6-pack and our dinner. Mackie helps me clean up and I walk him out. I lock up the house and get ready for bed... As I lie in bed, I smile and am actually excited to attend an event for the first time in ages.

Elyse Pov

I was sitting on the edge of a white hotel bed, staring out into the busy city below me. I so didn't want to be here today, but again I don't have a say in my career and everything is discussed without me... at least we aren't doing a vogue get ready with me tomorrow. Thank god!! I hate doing those.

Suddenly, Haley's cold finger brought me out of my thoughts.

"What's wrong, Elyse?" She asks me.

"Nothing, I'm fine," I tell her.

She tells me the nail tech lady is here to do my nails for tomorrow. Haley also handed me my script for the next day. She tells me good night and she'll see me in the morning.

I smile and greet the nail tech and sit in the chair. I look over my script and see the category and when I'm presenting and the timeline of the show, and thankfully I don't have to sit in the crowd...I am just presenting the 2015 best picture film with Chris.

I'm a little nervous to meet Chris. I've heard so many stories of him being a playboy, or him cheating on his ex. he seems so cocky, and rude being all Mr. America...but nobody knows if that's true... do they.

I always read something about him going back to his old ex-Minka... I remember meeting her at a shoot one time, and I cringed she was so self-centered... I try not to think too much about that, as I will be meeting him tomorrow, and can really know and judge him for myself. I take a deep breath and look back at my lines.

I practice my lines while I get my nails done. I look down and smile as the nail tech paints on this pretty nude color. I thank her after she is done.

I take a hot shower, and as I'm finishing up, I notice my stomach cramps again. I hope I don't start my period, but I already got it this month and I remind myself to make an appointment with an ob-gyn soon ...I didn't even bring anything with me if I do start my period..... I groan and go to bed, hoping this all ends soon.

[saltyr3mix]

have I ever told you that second chances had multiple test concepts?

before I decided on empires, I considered Stardew Valley because the original idea for this was an ask game where you put the last character you drew in the last game you played and I thought he would vibe :D

Then, when I decided on empires, I considered making him a ghost in a cursed pendant that llama Owen picked up! The story would have been about him trying to get brought back so he could continue his massacres but being worn down by llama Owen’s stupid antics lol

NO YOU DIDN'T

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

THOSE IDEAS ARE SO SO SO FUN!!!!

I neeeeeeeeeeeed more outsiders x other servers fixing them fics. There was this one fic where they took outsiders and fused it with the maze runner and it was amazing. and like i ADORE ADORE ADORE LOVE ABSOLUTELY FAWN OVER YOUR FIC OF COURSE!!

Cause i love taking messed up characters and sending them on the most painfully complicated fix it arcs. Its literately the plot of both These walls scream your name and Played my game now you're in it. OH! and my new secret wtdw fic only Danger knows about that i wont share for a while. (im going to wait till i have a few chapters before hand ready to post so i don't get behind on it like all my other fics lol.)

ANYWAY

I've also been tossing around more combinations for this kind of au. taking outsiders and putting them in places they shouldn't be. and here are some of the ones i've nearly written but just don't have the time for.

O!Krow in Newlife. just, it's reaction to sparrow would be so funny and also the angst potential in death and hybridizing Krow even further. Also there is one opening to one of the NL episodes where Krow does a Japanese voice over intro that catches me off guard every time i hear it.

O!Bek in SOS smp. Look. Scott, Eloise, and Owen are there but my girl is missing and that makes me just a little bit sad that they can't reach their full chaos potential. its more so to fix them than her at this point. but i also think it would to see O!Bek specifically try to adjust to it all cause shes isn't a big......team player..... to say the least. Which is something that smp relay on big time.

O!Magic on Pirates. i think she deserves a gun. and to kill people. and also think she would be a great apprentice for P!Gracie and would be besties with cruppy. this is less of a lore heavy one and more i just want her safe and happy and also to kill whomever she so desires because she deserves it after everything.

On a similar note on sending people place for the sole sake of letting them kill people, i think sending O!Oeca to the traffic series would just. just think about it. they were made for each other. and you know what. Put O!Mowhee there with him. Just the two of them running around on red just. i don't know man. i think its very fun and that they would thrive.

O!Squidney and O!Spidey i firmly believe should have the pleasure of being in Rats. Just as a treat. just so they can be silly and forget the horrors.

Anyway those were plans i had for another super big grand fic where every outsider got put somewhere new and each chapter centered around them healing. but i quickly realized that's way too big of a project to take on right now and also i don't know enough about servers or enough about every outsider for that.

Hope you like the little exchange in ideas!!! I do really like yours and i have so many i couldn't help but spill some of my own!

(i also may have another little idea for a oneshot sort of inspired by your fic, if i get around to having the free time to write it and you allow inspiration)

[gongustheawsome01]

Some cannon relationships for Vicky and stuff ( Pretty much just what she thinks of each character )

More info on Vicky here! ( Backstory )

Vicky Backstory

Peppino -

The first introduction she had to this man was him breaking into her house thinking it was another one of pizzaheads plans and almost beating HER up before he realize she wasn't pizzahead and was indeed a vampire ready to rock his face in.

He was so pathetic and sad though that it would just be absolutely miserable to kill him so she let him go.

So yeah she doesn't really like him all too well! She often pranks him a lot not like water bucket but in a spooky way like jump scarring or putting one million trillion spiders in his room. She still however isn't as annoying as the noise

Gustavo -

Oh they're sworn enemies. He hates her because of her constantly pranking Peppino and making his life more miserable than it already is. Vicky however sees Gustavo as a total joykill and that it's just some silly fun.

He often sends brick to scare her off he is pretty bad at being scary though so she just runs off most of the time or fly's off if she decides to transform into a bat.

Mr.Sticks -

She ALMOST killed him when they first met because she thought he was just another annoying door to door sales man that was gonna be her next meal ( I mean she WAS right on one of those parts ) but due to the pairs GOD AWFUL taste in fashion she actually really liked his outfit and asked about it.

They then talked for hours about a lot of things until Sticks realized like after one whole hour he was talking to a vampire and bolted out of the door screaming like a girl.

They then kept running into another until Sticks accepted she wasn't going to suck his blood out. They are now best friends because of the power of being failures, bad fashion taste, and being annoying!

Burton -

She met him when she was hanging out at Sticks insane apartment and they both heard a knock at the door sticks went up to get it and Burton was there! Paying a visit because he realized he was passing by.

He then looked over to see Vicky just kinda standing there like a statue because she didn't know this guy so hypothetically he COULD be a vampire slayer but he was also a friend of Sticks so was he chill?

Burton then turned over to Sticks and asked him. "..Scott is that a vampire?"

She then stopped overthinking for a moment to say. "YOUR NAME IS SCOTT??" Anyways now they're pretty content with another I feel as if they talked to each other more than they would become friends.

Brick -

he's working with Gustavo and y'know sometimes DOES bite her. So like I'd say they probablyyyy don't like each other..

Noisette -

She found her cafe one afternoon when she was just wandering about. She wasn't looking for anything to eat or drink but just thought she'd have a quick look.

Noisette herself seemed pretty nice of a gal. She insisted that she at least try one of her foods but just looking at the menu said she'd already ate. They talked for a bit well Noisette mainly did the talking..

But she was alright in Vicky's terms at least. Vicky actually ended up becoming a regular there mainly to pass the time though and Noisette can be entertaining. So in the end... Good friends! ( Also yes they do gossip sometimes. )

Noise -

NOISETTE IS TOO GOOD FOR HIM AND HE DESERVES THE GUILLOTINE!!! In her humble opinion..

Pepperman-

While she does actually fancy his artistic talent and owns maybe one or two of his paintings. Holy hell is he INSUFFERABLE to her.

When it comes to Noisette the appeal with her is that while she doesn't mean to sound rude Noisette is a little.. empty headed and kinda just goes on tangents of whatever! Which can be really entertaining.

BUT THIS GUYYY MAN!!! She spends five seconds around him and all of a sudden it's "himself", or "something pretentious here", OR EVEN "so like why do you wear red anyways? For the vampire look or is it a sort of metaphor for-" before he could even finish that one though she hit him over the head with a wooden chair.

Vigilante-

She can't interact with this guy. He reminds her too much of her sister.

Fake peppeino-

She met this THING ONCE and she decided never again and doesn't even bring it up you mention even the slightest bit of it and she just goes "SHSHSHHSHSSHHHHHHHSHSHSHHHHHH"

Aka she may or may not have actually felt fear for the first time in forever for her thousands of years alive.

(NOTE: SOME OF THIS CAN AND MOST LIKELY WILL CHANGE IN THE FUTURE. )

[janeykath318]

Mission: Marriage (Romanogers)

“You look like you got hit by a truck, Steve. What happened?”

Sam was very concerned at his friend’s face, which was a study in barely controlled emotions. He looked alternately angry, sad, and frustrated after the meeting with General Ross.

“So, here’s the deal. We’re either all going to prison for awhile, or I…….marry someone from the other team who can “keep me in check”.

“What the hell?” Sam exclaimed. “What sort of medieval crap are they trying to pull?”

“I don’t know, but I have forty-eight hours to decide,” Steve sighed, and slumped into a chair, picturing Wanda miserable in the Raft and Clint, Sam, and Scott separated from their families for years. “I already know what I have to do.”

He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.

“I know what the right thing is, but I hate having to give into them.”

Sam laid a supporting hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to do this, Steve. We all knew what we were risking by not signing.”

“Yeah, but the punishment falls much harder on you guys. I don’t have any family.”

“That’s not true and you know it,” Sam chided, squeezing Steve’s shoulder again. “But yeah, when there are kids involved, it really makes the decision more tough. Ross is a snake. He knows just the cards to manipulate people into doing his bidding.”

“Truth,” Steve agreed. He was very thankful that Bucky was safe in Wakanda at least, Protected from Ross and Tony.

“Do you know who the prospective spouse would be?” Sam queried.

“No,” Steve sighed. “I’m guessing they’ll tell me when I give my answer.”

“So you are gonna say yes.”

“It’s the only thing I can do in good conscience.”

Sam didn’t say anything, because as much as he hated the idea of Steve being forced into this type of marriage, he knew his friend had made the best choice he could.

Two days later, Steve gave his answer to Ross, who showed a slight touch of surprise before he went into a vacuous speech about how he was glad Steve had seen the light and yadda, yadda, yadda. Steve had to restrain himself from punching the man.

“Cut to the chase, Ross. Tell me who I’m marrying,” he ordered impatiently.

“Very well. Come in, Romanoff,” he spoke through his intercom.

No way, Steve thought in shock as Natasha entered the room. His reaction must have shown in his face, because she shot him an amused look.

“Close your mouth before something flies in, Rogers.”

Steve looked at Ross, who nodded, with a smarmy smile.

“Ms. Romanoff has agreed to the arrangement and we think she will have the best chance at handling you properly.”

Steve would have been offended at the idea of needing “handled”, but he was still a bit dazed. Married…….to Natasha……wow. He hardly noticed Ross excuse himself to take a phone call.

“Steve.exe has stopped responding,” she commented. “You’re buffering hard right now, my friend. What’s the matter? Marriage to me sounds worse than prison?”

Steve shook his head rapidly.

“No…..I just wasn’t expecting it. I was picturing some senator’s daughter or socialite and was bracing for the worst. I don’t trust Ross to find a wife I’d actually like.”

Natasha snorted.

“And you’d be right. Once I found out who his picks were and what you faced if you didn’t take it, I couldn’t let that happen. I made him see that I was the most logical choice.”

“You did that…..for me?” Steve asked. “I……don’t know what to say, Nat. That’s an incredible sacrifice to make, especially for you.”

“No more than yours is,” she told him, sitting down beside him and resting a hand on his. “You were willing to risk years of marital misery to keep our friends out of prison and their children from growing up without fathers. I couldn’t let that happen. If nothing else, you’ll be with someone you trust and who trusts you.”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat. “I absolutely trust you, Nat. The couple that takes down Shield together, stays together, right?”

Nat chuckled. “Right.”

Barely a week later, Natasha showed up to the ceremony in an absolute killer blue gown that made Steve’s jaw hit the floor and explained the matching blue tie she’d given him to wear. Clint accompanied her, looking somewhat anxious. He’d talked to Steve the night before, giving the necessary shovel talk before thanking him profusely and dispensing a few words of insight about his best friend.

“I know she’s said love is for children, but I think you, of all people, might be the one to convince her otherwise. Tasha’s got a huge heart and I hope that maybe this won’t stay just an arrangement, you know. I’ve seen the way you look at each other.”

Steve knew if he let himself, he could very easily fall in love with her and If Clint was right, Natasha might be more open to it than he thought.

“You clean up nice, soldier,” she told him softly with an admiring look at his new suit.

“And you look……beyond stunning. Wow.” he managed. She’d left her magnificent red hair down and it flowed in waves down her back. He’d seen her rock the femme fatale look for missions before, but this was a whole different ball game.

“I’ll take that adorably dazed look as a compliment,” she told him, wrapping her hand around his elbow. “Ready?”

“Yes.” Steve told her. With her by his side, he felt ready for anything.

[ak47stylegirl]

Public opinion 2.0 

Decided that this snippet wasn’t angst enough for me, so I redid it XD I hope you guys enjoy! 

@janetm74 @gumnut-logic @katblu42 //shows fic off to you guys like a proud cat with it’s kill 😁//

next

---

Gordon lay lazily on the couch, flicking through TV channels. It was a hot summer day on Tracy island, and the air con was broken…And Gordon was banned from swimming because of a broken arm and ribs…

Speaking of Air-Con, Virgil was halfway in the vents trying to fix the damn thing, while Scott ‘the smother hen’ hovered below him. Dad was conversing with brains in the corner, about something vaguely thunderbirds related. 

But if it wasn’t about thunderbird four, Gordon wasn’t interested. While watching Scott make a fool of himself was amusing (The fretting wasn’t aimed at Gordon after all, thank goodness!), he couldn’t help but feel bittersweet.

Because Scott didn’t use to worry all the time. The last time Gordon could really remember Scott being truly relaxed was before Allie-

Gordon froze, a shiver running down his spine. 

Allie. Alan, his only younger brother. 

Yeah, losing Alan definitely played a factor; Gordon thought with a heavy sigh, blindly clicking through tv channels. 

Then Dad had that- 

Gordon shook his head, blinking rapidly. (Scott was eyeing him in concern. Not good.) Don’t think about that! Anything but that damn heart attack, or Allie-

You failed him. If only you were a better big brother- 

“Ugh, this is the worst!” Gordon groaned dramatically, throwing the remote down on the coffee table. Don’t think about that-Don’t go down that rabbit hole, Gordo… 

“I’m borrrreeeeed and there’s nothing on…”

Scott frowned at him. “Don’t-” 

“Hey, Virg?” Tilting his head up, Gordon grinned as he found his perfect distraction. “Is the air con-”

Virgil growled, head appearing out of the vent dishevelled, “If you say ‘is the air-con fixed yet?’ one more time! I swear I’m going to shove this wrench up your-”

“Virgil!” Jeff snapped, frowning at his middle child, “I would not finish that sentence, young man!” 

“Sorry, Dad…”

Gordon snickered at the cowed look on Virgil’s face.

“And Gordon?” Jeff sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “If you are so bored as you say, instead of provoking your brothers, why don’t you go help your grandmother and Omaha in the kitchen?” 

In the kitchen… in the kitchen?! With two alpha females?! With varying cooking skills?!

Oh Hell no!!

“Ahhhh, a-actually I’m feeling really tired, with being injured and all…” Dialling poor sad squid-pup eyes up to eleven. “s-so I’m just going to rest here if that's okay with you?” 

Was Gordon’s life flashing before his eyes? Yes, yes it was.. Was he sweating/grinning in terror? Also yes. Did he want to wipe that smug smirk off Scott’s face?

Oh hell yes! 

Jeff hummed with a nod, “Very well, you do that, Son…”

(Translation: Behave or else) 

And to drag the point home, Scott decided that a light slap behind the head was in order. 

“Owwww!” Gordon pouted up at the frowning older man. “That hurt, I’m already injured you know…”

“You deserved it, squid…” Scott scoffed, rolling his eyes with a smirk, “anyway, as far as I was aware, it was your arm that was broken, not your head-” 

“Breaking News!”

All eyes snapped to the screen, each ready to deploy if needed. (Wasn’t the first time they learnt of a rescue by seeing it on tv) There were two poshly dressed news presenters, reporting about a violent protest in progress. 

“The Vigilante known as Phoenix was spotted trying to calm things down, but as this video taken an hour ago shows, he wasn’t very successful…”

The screen changed to a video recording. Someone in the crowd obviously took it as the camera kept shaking as it focused on the vigilante. Who looked overwhelmed; urgently talking into his comm. 

The crowd was getting more feral by the minute. Someone threw a rock at the hero, who caught it with ease; posture tense. The crowd went silent as piercing blue eyes stared at the rock, and then into the crowd. 

A shiver ran down Scott’s and Gordon’s spines. (The crowd didn’t know what they were dealing with or provoking…) 

Then one of the braver (Read: stupid) protesters yelled a slur and the crowd followed. Shouts of ‘Freak! Go back to where you came from!’ ‘Fake hero! Fake victim! Murder!!’ ‘Get lost!’ and ‘mind control, my ass!’ echoed for miles. 

The police were now getting involved, as more projectiles were thrown. 

The video ended with Phoenix finally reaching his limit with a shout, (in another language Gordon noted, was that Arabic?), powerful wings sending a shock wave into the crowd as he took off. 

Virgil couldn’t help but notice how distressed Phoenix had been as he fled; the big brother in him aching for the young teen. (His heart knew something he didn’t, which confused him like hell…) 

The TV switched back to the newsroom,  “Well, that was something, wasn’t it, Mike?” The obviously fake blond mused, acting like she was talking about the weather, not…not whatever that shit had been. 

“It sure was, Karen…” Mike responded with an annoyed frown; like he had other places to be. “While I don’t support violent protests, I have to say I agree with these protesters, standing up to that vigilante…”

Something sour stirred in Gordon.

“How so, Mike? Isn’t Phoenix one of those ‘heroes’?” Karen put a weird emphasis on the word ‘hero’, with clear disdain in her voice. “Isn’t he on the side of the police?”

Virgil’s brown eyes were staring holes into the tv, while Scott and Dad just watched with neutral frowns; Scott obviously more unsettled out of the two men. 

“Can we really call him a hero, Karen? Isn’t he an assassin?” Mike paused momentarily, a smug look appearing on his face, “-or excuse me, former assassin; As if that makes it any better…” 

Karen hummed softly, “They say that ‘apparently’ he was mind-controlled…”

“Very convenient excuse, don’t you think?” Mike spoke mockingly, before looking at the camera. “How can we trust those ‘heroes’ with our children, when they let Phoenix, who I remind you have killed hundreds of innocent people-”

The TV shut off with a deafening click. 

“Enough of that nonsense…” Jeff stood in front of the tv, leaning heavily on his cane. (The years and hardships (and space) haven’t been kind to Jeff’s aging body) “Boys, back to what you were doing. Gordon-” 

As if given permission to speak, the shocked outraged words just tumbled out. 

“What the fuck was that?!”

Fin. TBC....

[adultswim2021]

Moral Orel #41: “Sacrifice” | November 18, 2008 - 12:15AM | S03E11

Sacrifice is gonna be a little hard to talk about extensively because it’s not really joke-driven. It’s funny, and has jokes on it, but most of the episode is basically a one-act play taking place in Forghetty's pub. But before that, the episode actually opens with a little flashback to Numb, featuring Clay’s POV scene at the end. This time it’s not scored to Mountain Goats, and we just hear him muttering to himself. Then we join the church service at the end of the previous episode, Sundays. Reverend Putty’s sermon is about some Jesus story where a tomb or some shit gets opened and there’s nothing in it, and how nothingness can actually mean hope. 

Do you all like how I didn’t even bother to look up that Jesus stuff they referenced? Isn’t it weird that I’m ostensibly Catholic (not anymore I'm normal now! I'm Bahá’í!) and I don’t even seem to have a passing familiarity with Jesus’s greatest hits? Anyway, I had to work on my day off and I’m PISSED OFF so I’m taking out on this blog by doing a bad job. Sorry. 

Speaking of doing a bad job: I really can’t see myself going beat-by-beat for this episode, because it’s mostly dialogue. But here's the paragraph where I try and sum it up:

Various men in Moralton encounter each other in the bar and have it out with Clay, who rants and goads the others (Officer Papermouth, Reverend Putty, and Dr. Potterswheel). Clay declares that he can’t come into his stinking dead end job or else he’ll kill somebody, the drama queen! He winds up Reverend Putty and Officer Papermouth over their woes with, as it turns out, the same woman. And Clay says nasty stuff to the doctor because, as we see in Numb/the earlier scene rehashed from Numb, Clay discovered and currently possesses his handkerchief that Bloberta took out of his office.

This bar scene (which is the lion's share of the episode) ends with Clay practically begging for a pop to the face. The other men all decide against punching Clay, and simply walk out, paralleling his own father’s declaration of him not being “worth it”. 

The episode itself ends with Orel at home, calling the bar to try and reach his father. Bloberta is tearing the house apart looking for the handkerchief. Shapey actually says something eloquent (and sad!). The credits roll over footage of Clay returning to the nature reserve to retrieve the bear carcass he thinks he shot. 

This one’s a highlight for the season, just pure theater and great performances. That's episode 11 of 13! Two to go! Or three. Or… FOUR?

MAIL BAG

Normally at the end of these posts I do a 44 Nights of Orel wrap-up, but since they aired two premieres back to back, I don’t have any repeats to note. So, I’m doing a Mail Bag instead. Unfortunately that means I will not be needing the Dino and Scott picture to introduce it. Sorry.

*sung to the tune of the cartoon network ad where chicken of cow & chicken plays electric guitar on a stage* Robot Chicken yeah, Robot Chicken yeah, Robot Chicken yeAHHH

Um… link??

kevin smith looks like a fucking dog in cartoon form. they should give him a bone and let him run around the yard.

I wouldn’t leave him alone with your infant, movie tickets, or clit/brown/taint-area, that is for sure.

Hey fake woke Americans, guess who actually lives on stolen land? You do. Guess who actually lives on stolen land? You do. You do. You do. Me Jew. You do. Me Jew. You do. You live on stolen land. Anyway looking forward to your Eagleheart and Dinner in America writeups!

Hahah. Oh man. You ain’t kiddin’ brother.

My daughter turns 11 this month, I basically stopped watching adult swim not too long before she was born but I never missed a sunday before that. This has been a great look back and I'm excited to start seeing what I missed soon. 

Hey man, I know this message you’ve sent in isn’t actually finished yet, but this just meant so much to me that I had to stop reading it right here and respond immediately. I know, I’m breaking my own protocol, but it’s worth it for me to give you the extra attention. This is the stuff that’s truly important in life and it touches my heart and means the world to me. Cherish your little one, and maybe some day when she’s old enough she’ll even become a viewer and reader of this blog! I know, it seems a long ways away, but she’ll be a little adult swimmer before you know it, so cherish these moments, and know that I cherish you. Okay, onto the rest of your message:

Also, my daughters last birthday wish was a Dino and Scott banner, so could you make it happen?

No! 

Matt Christmas from cahpo

Very weird stuff you’re saying right now, but I heard he’s doing better. Isn’t that great? Surely you’re happy to hear this, and you’re not doing some tasteless bit where you’re pretending to be him right now. That would be UNTOWARD. 

me love the way you talk the way you move is so hot. now let me get you a shot of rum and then make you wanna come...with me to the ocean. that would be phat. you could be my bow cat. nice ital breeze, bring you to your knees. we jammin.

Stop doing this! I have to google it every time and pretend I already know it’s a Steven Segal song. Do you have any idea how sad it is to get weird words in the mail and then you google them and you have to look at a picture of Steven Segal. He is always giving "fuck me" eyes to the camera. This is practically assault, and I will have you removed.

I'm not the one sending you messages about the making the morel orel guys the banner but I do think it's a good idea.

It’s a good idea. It might be the idea the saves the world. But, I never buckle. The racist cartoon stays, and I will also keep being racist

Hey this is Paul McCartney of the Beatles and Wings. Happy Tasty Tuesday to all who celebrate it. Tell me about your pets.

Hi Paul. I like (not love) your rock and roll music and viral videos. I don’t have any pets they are all in hell right now. My roommate has two frisky cats and sometimes they come in here while I’m masturbating, just beh-ging for pets. Of course… I gotta hand it to ‘em. Both of them are nice. Thanks for writing in before you die next week

[sjwilli4ms]

Writing Initiative #5 & #6(week 8 & 10)

week 8

This week I didnt present anything to class… and that is because I was in the planning and prepping process for my 4d *week 8*

NOW ONTO WEEK 9 & 10!

At the start of week 9, I knew that I wanted to do something that was a cross between my 2d and 3d, but I still wasn’t exactly sure about what to do. Going back to the drawing board and brainstorming a little more, I subsequently decided that I wanted to take the fashion photography element and ethos from my 2d, and the chronosynchronicity of emotions from my 3d. I decided to make a fashion campaign style video. 

Upon having this epiphany. I still felt that something was still missing. A huge element to tie it all together and make it really have that ‘chronosynchronicity’ feel. I mean, songs and videos have beginnings middles and endings, and that could technically be what I could do, but it just didn’t feel intentional… THEN IT HIT ME.

I brainstormed, spoke with Paul, and consulted my other course mates and then BOOM. It literally came to me in a dream (not really, it was more like getting hit by a truck hahahah). I was gonna make a few outfits per the feelings that are in chronosynchronicity and make one of those polly pocket style dress-up flip-books with a supplementary fashion video .

EUREKA!… or so I thought…

It was a good idea either ways, so I started execution. I booked the photography studio and rented two cameras and lighting for week 10, and I started preparing even more. 

I made an ISO (in search of) post on my instagram looking for a model, or someone that would be happy to step in as my muse (I could have done this all by myself but there really and truly is strength in numbers). Thats when Jaden, a friend that I acquainted with in my childhood reached out to me, and we hopped on a FaceTime call. He was in bed with his partner (who is actually one of my best friends haha) when we spoke on the phone (im saying this is for contextual reasons that will make sense!). I told him to make outfits based on the emotions Joy, Lust, Confusion, Sadness, and fear because I felt called to narrow the emotions from my 2d down to those 5 emotions. From making those fits, which required 1 top, 1 bottom, 1 pair of shoes and possibly a piece of outerwear per outfit, I also decided that on shoot day, I would make us make every possible combination in outfit with the pieces available. Bare in mind… I was extremely burnt out this entire process, but I kept on pushing and I’m so glad I did!, so here are my findings from the interview( I transcribed it in a very abstract way and kept on asking “why” till the answer was so abstract from the question that it didn’t make sense):

So...

joy

to Jaden 

Green tracksuit

White shirt

Green bapestas 

Green is his favourite colour

Green reminds his grandmas garden 

Raised and spent free time there

He’d chill there because “she’s old”

There wasn’t much to do…

Because she’s “old”

Why was she old… 

*laughs*

Lust

Black mickey tee

Black short shorts/black sweats

Jordan 4 Black cats 

“Yasmin” picked it out

*passes phone to Yasmin*

When she thinks of lust, she thinks PRIMAL attraction. Desire driven

Showing off assets with short shorts and muscly top.

With attraction to lust: she’s attracted to people built well/ seem strong.

DNA. Likes the feeling of feeling safe.

Life is scary as a woman.

Gender roles. 

Protector = man = infiltrator

Duality.

Confusion 

Oversized 4ye hoodie cream

Bimsee pants 

Travis Scott silver forces

A lot is going on. People get confused when there is “too much going on”

People like “straight forwardness”

Not as cohesive 

Silhouette isn’t too much going on 

“Too much going on” = the elements that make the whole. Not the whole itself.

Journey/ destination?

Destination

Journey is straightforward.

Tedious with journey, same with fashion. 

Tedious = confusion ?

No 

Tedious = harder to comprehend

Trying too hard to compute makes it easy to miss the point.

Get to the point.

Sadness

Elmo hoodie black 

Black jeans 

Cream shoes

Reminds me of a Paramore song—— any song on the after laughter album

Why the juxtaposition 

People trying to mask the fact that they’re sad (Hide your face w hoodie)

Upbringing that made him think this way. 

People have “had it much worse than you do”

Parents do it to not be an inconvenience to them.

My parents grieve

They can’t grieve because of “kids”

Grief of youth 

Makes backhanded comments to said “kids”

No resentment 

Comes up with new goals 

With sadness comes birth 

Tower moment. Rebuilding. 

I just learnt that his mum can fly a plane.

Fear 

Black trench

Dickies shirt grey

Tie with hearts 

New balances/ pandas 

Dark colours are what people associate with fear. “With fear come gloom”

Link to lust and fear?

Uncertainty. Curiousity

Attracted only on a physical level (lust) don’t want them to see them more on a physical Lebel (fear)

I chose to make Andrew pick his own outfits because I wanted to showcase his own chronosynchronicity.

After the interview was over, I felt even closer to Yasmin and felt a closeness with Jaden (which would come in handy on shoot day as I prefer my models to feel comfortable). In the end, everything came to me in an epiphany:

Lust and fear and intertwined… which technically is link to confusion (which is linked to fear)… joy is the only juxtaposing thing in spite of the fact that they are all separate emotions. Without all these things there can’t be any joy. All these feelings and emotions make chronosynchonicity 

We ended up shooting a few days after in the studio and it was very fun!

With editing, I was so excited to do that as I have previous knowledge from a YouTube channel I used to run when I was younger! I was so excited editing that it literally put me in flow state and CURED my burnout???? It really did and I felt a deep sense of purpose here!

And in the end, the video came out so well! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IWWs0GK5csI (Video will be posted in subsequent post)

[arospecsyourblockdudes]

For a while now, Fwhip had been planning to hurt Scott.

It started when he’d visited Gem and seen her in that frozen state. Never mind the hair, she was shivering and leaning heavily on her potion shelves. She had said that she was fine, just trying to help Scott with his ice powers and he’s had an accident.

She said she was fine. He could see how pale she was getting.

Well, he didn’t know anything about magic and he hated himself for it. All he could do was suggest she go to Katherine because she knew healing and magic better than he did. He wished more than anything he could fix her himself, but he just can’t.

So he decided to do the next best thing and kill Scott. If he’s going around and exploding his ice magic on people, he’s a bit of a menace. Bit of a danger. If he could go around and explode on anyone who tries to help him.

Fwhip went back to the Grimlands and picked up his crossbow, fireworks, some potions. His mouth twisted into a bitter frown as he put his sword into his sheath. With that, he was ready for Rivendell.

He didn’t have a plan, he just wanted Scott dead, so it was probably for the best that the man wasn’t there. He’d poked around his house, his bee home, the embassy buildings, even in the mines a bit. None of his people had any idea, said they hadn’t seen him in a bit.

That news made him feel….bad. It was an odd one. He hated Scott for trying to run. Either to get away from him or any other retaliation for being a bit of a landmine, or to hide himself away and keep people safe from him which made him hate Scott more for having a moral code about it now. After his sister was collateral.

Either way, he was still prepped to get him. So, he searched briefly around the other empires. No one had seen him in a while. Not many of them even knew what had happened to Gem either. When Sausage found out, he went straight on over to the Crystal Cliffs to make sure she was ok.

Thank god there was another person to care for her. Thank god there was someone he cared for who wasn’t hurt.

And so he looked outside of the empires. At this point, he didn’t know why he was so dead set on finding Scott. Not even killing him, just make him hurt. He thinks it’s because he can’t heal Gem. If he can’t do that, this is the next best thing.

He’d gotten messages from a few of the others asking where he’s gone off to, and he’d just responded that he was looking for some potion materials. They might now believe him but really he doesn’t care.

He has to do something.

Fwhip finds Scott in the ice spikes. It was a bit of a gambit going there, but he figures if the ice man is going to go anywhere, might as well be the ice area. And Scott always had a flair for the dramatic, didn’t he.

But it all sort of goes to hell when he pounds on the door of the little cottage Scott had propped up, demanding to be let in, hand on the potions on his belt, ready. And Scott opens the door and backs himself into the corner, looking like someone put him in a bucket of cold water. And then everything fell apart.

“Why are you hiding out here? Not very hospitable.” Fwhip glanced around the cottage. It was small, and Scott’s height made him look cramped.

“It’s safer.” Scott said. “I just hurt people, I can’t control my powers. I tried to isolate myself but then it effected Rivendell, and I tried to get help and you know how that went.”

God. Fwhip hated this. All he was was exhausted now. All he wanted was to help Gem.

“I’m just worried for Gem.” Fwhip let himself in, ignoring Scott’s half protests. “It’s warm here, let me sit.”

“I’m worried for her too. I just hope she gets the help she needs because I don’t….I don’t know how to reverse it. Any of it.”

The poor man, he looked like he hasn’t slept in weeks. Fwhip felt the same. He sighed and pulled up his inventory, rummaged around.

“Come on. I’ve got a few mushrooms in here. I’ll pop on some soup.”