#of the spider. that lives in the side mirror of the work van

[raan-miir-tah]

There was a spider trying to live in the cutlery drawer and babygirl you are beautiful but you do realize how terrible this location is to raise your family, correct?? It moves. It’s dark and there’s no bugs to catch. There’s hands all the time. Big metal objects get shoved around in there. Sorry my love your ass is evicted please find a good place to live in the outside of the home

[ivelleciel]

IRIS BENEATH THE SUN

Chapter One: Betrayal Genre: Mafia!Haechan, Mafia!NCT, Biker Haechan, Step on me Haechan, Haechan Dom

Pairings: Haechan x Reader (Iris)

Warning: Smut, Violence, Vulgar Language, Mention of blood, MDNI

Intro: Where a girl finds herself trapped within her brother's protection. One would find it a blessing but for Iris, it's suffocation- and she's someone who would often like the thought of being choked, but simply not like this. Raised within thick walls inside the perimeters of their mansion, She finds herself treasuring every opportunity she gets whenever she is given volunteer work for the people in need outside the city of glass she was born in. Fun and Exciting is how she always saw these trips, it was until darkened windows of SUVs blocked their way from going any further in the middle of the desert. It was the only land of nothing dividing the city and the suburbs and yet they were stopped by armed men, six- seven? she couldn't count as she was too in shock, scared even much more so when her side of the vehicle opened and a pair of gloved hands pulled her away from your handmaiden's side. "Giselle!" Iris cried and a bag was hovered over her head and the last thing she remembered was Giselle's screams, Men simultaneously giving orders to her bodyguards and a gun going off. Then there was black.

"Ha ha. So funny. What then? Bore myself to death by my room's window? waiting for prince charming to save me? No thank you. Give me twenty more of these tasks and consider me the happiest sister ever." Mumbling her last words as she fix her hair to a half-do with a claw clip. Iris saw Johnny's sad gaze through her mirror before he could mask it with a stoic smile. She sighed and faced her brother, leaning in to hug herself tight on his chest.

"Stop babying me.. It's only for a few hours. What's the worst that could happen?"

"I heard there are many forest spiders in the village. Thousands." Johnny exaggerated, trying to coax her with her teasing by blabbering stupid things and then he sighed when Iris only hummed her soft chuckle, unconvinced. "... you're just the only family I have left."

"And so are you to me." Iris sighed, looking up to her brother with an exhausted expression. "But mom and dad would have wanted us to live life with more meaning than in fear.."

"I know.." Johnny sighed, tapping the cap Iris had on before marching to her room's door. "Well chop chop city girl. They're not gonna feed themselves." Chuckling as they make their way downstairs, Iris gave one last look at the frame by her bed. Her late mother, late father, Johnny and herself. Smiling by the lake that held many memories for her and Johnny, some of which they didn't know would end in a tragedy.

Iris saw Giselle, one of her many good friends, packing extra necessities for Iris and the trip. Back hugging the petite frame, Giselle squealed, too focused on her task in hand to even notice Iris before glaring at the girl. "Silly! What if I dropped your anxiety pills?" she heard Gigi clicked her tongue, Iris resumed with a bratty smile to where Yuta was by their white van. "Everything settled Yuta?" Yuta, clasped his armed weapon on his belt and smiled at Iris, an unspoken answer to which Iris nodded to before getting up inside the van. Settling on the middle seat, between the window spot and the collapsing chair, she earned a perfect view of Mark.

A container in one hand and the other with what looks like an ammunition box, being stored inside another case. "Put the Magazine under the compartment along with out other containers yeah?" Iris could hear him order Jeno in which the latter obeyed to. She couldn't help but gape at Mark and his focused stance. If Iris was a completely eye-roller at Johnny's protectiveness then with Mark it was all heart eyes and red cheeks. Who wouldn't if the male holds glory to the uniform Johnny assigned them to. Camo pants and Army green fitted shirt is one of the fun treats Iris would look forward to with these programs, along with the nurturing feeling of helping other people.

She heard a throat clearing beside her and Iris just continued gawking. "Can a man get any more handsome?" Iris sighed, pouting her lips when Mark left her view to head inside, presumably to bid farewell to Johnny and reassure him that He and Jaehyun would take good care of you and the task in hands. "I wouldn't know, I'm not the one drooling a pool over here." Iris bit her lips, side eyeing her friend with a snort. "Oh please, as if I don't notice how you look at Yuta?" Giselle smacked Iris arm for that playfully before scooting herself on the window seat. "House Rules. We can't date co workers, but nobody said that about drooling over them." Giselle tossed her hair to tease Iris before being silence by the large frame towering by the sliding door. "Everyone ready?" Johnny mused, eyeing all the equipments and bags in the back seat before giving one last stern look at Iris.

"You behave-" Iris groaned when she saw Yuta, Mark and Jeno exchange smiles behind. "I will! It's not like I won't come straight home. Please stop." Iris whined further before she let Johnny ruffle her hair, backing away from the door to close it himself. Yuta and Jeno positioned in their seats in front. She only got lucky twice that she get to have Mark accompany her in the van.

Two vehicles were to transmit from their mansion. One where Jaehyun and Mark would carry with weapons and their tents and boxes of goods, And one where she's on with Giselle, Yuta and Jeno. It was always four guards with too many weapons. Johnny sees it as not enough but Iris claimed it was more than enough given that it was only her in the vehicle and nothing really ever happened to her despite Johnny's protectiveness.

Somewhere along their trip, Iris was sitting comfy by the window of the collapsing chair with Giselle passed out and a pillow on her lap. She just woke up from her nap and noticed that they were far from near the town they were heading to and yet also too far from home. She checked back as she pushed an air bud in her ear, the van Mark and Jeno are in behind them with safe distance. She played a soft song, ready to day dream about Mark and what would it be like if he was in their van instead of Jeno- that is until she saw a motorcycle beaming his headlights, asking to pass through and overtake. A male in all black sits on the Kawasaki Ninja H2R. Black skinny jeans, black boots, chains for necklace if she knew any better and a black shirt underneath his leather jacket.

His gloves switched the lever of his bike causing it to roar as he zooms pass them, earning a scoff at Yuta. "Cocky motherfucker." he muttered before she hears Jeno chuckle. She could have sworn that the rider could see her through their tinted glass, staring right back at her but that would be silly because again their vans were tinted, to its most darkest available shade at that. Shaking the silly thought away, she went back to staring out her window and enjoying the scenery as they drove through the desert.

"Target: Flower is in position. 800 meters away from the bullseye."

Static was heard from the other end before he heard the stern voice call back at him.

"We are ready to engage."

Haechan responded with a 'Copy.' before speeding away from the white vans. Certain that he was out of view, he parked behind a boulder , big enough to hide his motorcycle and himself as he positioned a chain of spikes across the road, plan B in place in case "Plan A: ambush" failed- to which it often doesn't, the cocky side of him crediting himself to the lack of mission failing when he's part of it. All he has to do now is wait and upon calculating he has enough time left for a quick smoke. Sitting his helmet on his bike and pulling out the Marlboro stick from his jacket's pocket he lit it up and waited as he leans on the boulder.

Puffing a few smoke, He heard screeches of tires and screams came after that.

Haechan made his way to the scene, stepping on Yuta's back as he tackled on the ground by Jaemin and Jeno wounded by Chenle on the leg.

"Boss said to spare them and just take the girl." Jaemin said as Renjun struggled to open the van's door. "She's won't let me open it-"

"Don't make another move!" Mark was able to free himself from Xiao Jun's grasp, wounded and bleeding on the side when Mark kicked him off but Mark was far from okay as well, with a gash on his lip and an open wound on his arm. Mark aimed the gun on his hand to Haechan, making the tanned skin male chuckle.

"You must be Mark." Mark unfazed by how Haechan knew he his name remained in position. "Don't worry. We won't hurt your princess, lover boy." Mark was then knocked out by Jaehyun from behind. One last look of betrayal from Mark and he was passed out on the ground.

Haechan nudged Renjun away and pulled the door open. Iris yelled and kicked when Renjun tried to manhandle her out to which he succeeded and Giselle screamed behind her before she was knocked out as well by a cloth to their mouths and nose.

Haechan watched as Iris gaze lands on his. Flicking the cigar away before leaning on her with a smirk. Her eyes beamed light brown as she tried to make out what Haechan looked like as he towers over her in front of the sun. 'Familiar' is what her last thoughts were before everything went black.

note: visit @Ivelle_Ciel on ao3 for faster updates ˆ̑՝̮ˆ̑❤︎

[shaunamilfman]

More Random HC’s cause I’m waiting to go into work :)

Nat:

- Unironically LOVES shirts that are/have the same energy as “women love me, fish fear me”/“Big dick is back in town” etc. she wears them more often than you’d like

- She lives off of Mountain Dew, Red Bull and hot Cheetos, that’s all she packs for lunch everyday and you have to drop off water and a snack for her at practice so she doesn’t pass out since she barely takes care of herself

Misty:

- was one of those girls that had a thing for the Onceler from the Lorax

- She was def apart of the 2012 tumblr culture, (superwholock or whatever it was) one of those girls that would get a tattoo off of one of the YA books they read, hunger games, Harry Potter, stuff like that

Jackie:

- Either really knows how to play American football and is super invested in the NFL, or does not know anything at all “What is a down?”

- Is SO CLINGY (Derogatory) sure you thought it was cute at first until she gets up at 5 am for her morning practice and wakes you up too so you can “brush your teeth together”. It gets even worse when she’s sick, shes the hugest baby when she’s sick and you know if she gets sick you’re bound to get sick a week later because she’s plastered to your side

Van:

- Legit loves anything you get her, even if it’s kind of a joke. Stupid $2 tourist T shirt? You got it for her so she loves it, childish Spider-Man socks, thinks they’re cool as fuck. Just overall very appreciative and excited to recieve anything from you

Lottie:

- I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; She’s absolutely good at all the fine arts; she can draw well, she definitely can play the piano and violin, bc her rich parents paid for her to have lessons, etc

- She definitely also did some nerdy shit like take taekwondo until she was 14. Idk why I can just imagine this girl in like that white martial arts gi, doing like punching exercises.

Shauna:

- I don’t know if this makes sense but the kind of gf that when you guys go out to eat, you’ll both be quiet/not talk so you can eavesdrop onto people’s conversations and talk about it in the car on the way home

ugh no nat is such a loser she so would. she shows up at your house wearing this

asking her when the last time she drank water was and she's really got to think about it. she gets so shy if you like cook her something though omg

Misty would have crushes on the weirdest fucking cartoon characters and shit I swear. she pulls you a picture of megamind and you're like "... okay"

superwholockian misty i know that's right. misty has like collectors editions of the Sherlock books. she has like an original printing displayed in her living room fr

Misty def had one of those shirts like "heading off to the shire to become a jedi because my hogwarts letter never came."

i take that and I raise you Jackie being super super invested in the NFL but still does not know how football works. she's into the vibes she's just competitive as fuck. you look over and she's googling what a halfback does.

also Jackie totally follows a soccer team obsessively. she has like 5 jerseys and so so much merch. she even buys you some so she can make you wear it. she's so excited whenever there's a game on. she's def screaming at the ref for making a bad call

jackie's dramatic ass makes you sit in the bathroom with her as she showers. your just sitting on the sink with your head against the mirror barely able to keep your eyes open and she's excitedly rambling on like she's on fucking crack.

also i feel like jackie is such a morning person. you're half an energy drink in and barely awake and she's bouncing off the walls at 6 AM

she definitely gets you sick whenever she gets sick for sure. she's expecting princess treatment squared when she's sick. omg you thought she was needy normally?? your ass is not ready.

Van is so fucking sentimental bro she has a whole box dedicated to little things you gave her, even if it was just something you randomly handed to her lmao

artist lottie has such a hold on me tbh I love it.

martial arts lottie def got a participation trophy and a pat on the back i can not see her being good at it lmao

oh no fr shauna is such a hater she loves doing hater activities with you. jackie's talking about jeff or something and yall are like 😒🙄. she always looks straight for you when stupid shit happens.

[dominaharper]

Okay but not my biracial ass crying in da club in Spider-verse over generational trauma ™ and identity formation.

Tell me you were rich as a child without saying you were rich: my mother (Mexican, army brat, first generation American) was a stay at home mom; I had three younger brothers and I was the only (external) daughter. We have very large age gaps. We all had our own individual rooms. I had my own bathroom, and the bathroom my brothers shared was a 1 and half bathroom (two separate rooms on either side with their own toilets with a shower stall and tub in the middle room) that spanned between their three rooms. We had our own living room separate from my father (Filipino, immigrant to US at 10, dropped out of an aerospace engineering scholarship because mom got pregnant with me). We had a formal dining room (with mirrored walls and a proper size China cabinet with fine China) and a breakfast nook. Our pantry was the size of a large walk-in closet, and my parents’ master closet was a full walk-in wardrobe with a chaisse lounger in the middle. We had an inground pool in the elevated part of our backyard with a separate gate. Our garage and driveway were in the front of the house. I was one of THREE people who were a racial minority in my school (not including my siblings). My parents were on a VIP shopping list at FAO Shwarz and got to shop for us for Christmas after hours. My father had two cars, and my mom had a mini-van. My brothers had a train table and a train they could physically ride around our formal dining room table. My dad owned and ran car dealerships and “Take Your Daughter to Work Day” was me basically shadowing in the morning and then sitting with the accounting ladies in the afternoon.

And despite being one income with a wife and four kids, my father STILL owed insane taxes back in the early 2k.

But after my parents divorced, and we moved in with my mom’s parents with 11 people in a three bedroom house, I realized: I was only as white as my wealth.

Having gone from a mini-mansion to having to share a room with my cousin and one bathroom for 9 people didn’t bother me. My mother had a humble upbringing and told me constantly: “Be thankful for what you have, because tomorrow it could be gone,” and hot damn her parenting paid off.

Because what actually hit me hard was realizing that people looked at me different because I was no longer wealthy. I didn’t have the same types of friends or activities. No more softball/basketball/golf/scouts/family trips with a bodyguard/horseback riding.

It made me double down on finding and being me. Especially while living with heavily ethnically traditional Mexican grandparents.

And so yeah, Spiderverse kinda’ hit different because while ethnically, I had a very “rich white” upbringing (people are still floored my mom only did Southern home cooking for the first 12 years of my life), it hit me later that I wasn’t white, and that I had to work harder to be seen as “credible” and “valid” in my teen and professional years as a result.

Shoutout to my mom for semi-beating humility and grace into me, even if I had to ask my white Irish (now ex and weirdly enough late) husband to translate Spanish for me because he was fluent, and I didn’t even know what “mira” meant.

Tl;Dr: Something about navigating identity in the midst of racial identity just hits me different.

[streetkid-named-desire]

A long excerpt from chapter 6. I'm working to balance Bea's behavior with his feelings and internal monologue so that her behavior is perplexing but intriguing and so his behavior motivations carry the scenes forward so they still make sense. I'm trying to show that he's in love and that can make you irrational but also his own internal conflict about hating that he's in love and trying to fight these feelings for her especially in this scene because he's realizing how much she disarms him and how completely he submits to her no matter how much he resists.

(for context, read the previous chapter here. But also you should just read the whole thing it's good.)

-

A thick silence hung over the darkening interior of the van. Jackie's leather jacket quietly swished against the polyester front seat as his hands dropped from the steering wheel and into his lap. V stared at Bea from the opposite corner of the van. None of them had spoken during the drive home. V felt like he was suffocating but was too paralyzed by Bea's piercing gaze to get out.

"Jackie," Bea was the first to speak. Her voice was calm and cool, it unnerved V. "Get out."

V's skin prickled.

"I'll wait by the—" Jackie looked at V in the rearview mirror.

"You know the code. Make yourself comfortable." Bea's eyes never left V's.

Was she actually going to kill him? He'd deserve it. Of course, he would. It was his op, it was—"Isn't this what you wanted?" she'd said.

Sure it was, he got intel and the gig could continue. They're just two mercs working a gig together. V curled his hands, flat on the floor of the van, into fists and braced himself for the worst—for what you deserve.

"Jacquito," Bea said softly with a lilt. V saw Jackie's shoulders slouch in defeat. He looked at V in the rearview mirror once more.

"Y-yeah, let me just get our gea—"

"Get the FUCK out, Jackie!" Bea shouted, without ever looking away from V.

V loosened the pistons in his hands. He flitted his fingers through an invisible piano concerto, hovering on the neural impulse to engage his Gorilla Arms, preparing to defend himself to the death. He never took her eyes off her, never stopped scanning her for microexpressions or muscle tension precipitating the first blow. She was holding back anger in her face; it was visible when she yelled at Jackie, but her body was calm and that unsettled V more than anything else.

The van creaked and shifted as Jackie exited and slammed the door shut.

Sure, V wanted to fuck Bea and even thought he was in love, but he wanted to live more.

The sudden realization made his fingers pause their idle symphony. Bea must have caught the pause because her arms and legs curled and moved like a spider's with such a terrifying quickness and agility inside the small space in the back of the van as she rushed towards V. But she wasn't hitting him. Not yet, at least.

Bea squatted at his feet and tilted her head to the side, examining him. As the light from inside the van faded his fingers took up their movements again. Bea gracefully tilted herself over onto her knees and crawled towards him to straddle his shins, keeping her distance but still pinning him. He felt like a fly trapped in a spider's web. Maybe he was.

He tried to keep his defenses up, but her proximity was disarming. He gulped and spoke quietly, "I'm sorry, Bea. I really a—"

"Shut the fuck up," Bea said. V snapped his mouth shut, the only sound in the van now their breathing and the quiet whirr of the servos in his hands as he kept his combat mod primed. "Just listen."

Bea leaned forward and placed her hands over his knees. The pressure on his shins combined with her weight on his knees stretched the joints backwards in a way they usually weren't supposed to stretch. "What do you think it means, V, when someone says a job needs a "feminine touch"?" She enunciated every consonant, the words sharp in the otherwise oppressive vacuum of the van.

V opened his mouth to answer and Bea cut him off with a scoff. "Rhetorical question." She pressed more of her weight onto his knees and he winced. "But sit with it for a moment." Wasn't like there was anything else V could do. He could shove her off him, easily. His mind plotted any number of escape routes from this van every night before a gig when he was going over their extraction plans. But part of him was overwhelmingly overpowering his self-preservation instinct. And that part wasn't lust.

What was it, then? Love? Empathy? Guilt?

Bea slowly, achingly, crawled forward with silent precision. No fabric moving together, no shoes scraping along the floor of the van. V's breath quickened. She placed her hands on his thighs and dug her nails in. Her face was a mask of pure malice. He was terrified. His breathing felt shallow as a certitude about his impending death wormed its way into his brain.

Would they at least share another kiss first?

"You needed a sex object," Bea said. V frowned and Bea rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you're so fucking naïve." She crawled forward again, her hands on his upper thighs now.

She was not wrong. Her sex appeal would disarm Frederick so she could get the key off of him. That's all she was there for. To make it easier to get the key. "I really am so—"

Neurons fired sensory impulses in quick succession. The weight of one of her hands removed from his thigh, a sharp stinging across one cheek, the salty taste of blood in his mouth as the split from the other night in his lip reopened. "I said," Bea took in a deep breath, "Shut the fuck up and listen." V nodded. The pain felt good and he wanted her to do it again.

She crawled closer, finally straddling his lap, her knees notched in perfectly between his hands and hips. She kneeled upright and looked down at him.

Bea slammed her hands on either side of his head against the back of the van and he jumped. She narrowed her eyes as she scrutinized him. But it was all so tantalizing to V. The danger and intensity, her body against his, the warmth of her fishnet-covered legs against his thighs. Her eyes traveled down to his mouth and he licked his lips, tasting copper.

Bea bit her lip and squeezed his lower lip around the cut, producing more blood. She softly traced her thumb over his upper lip and back down to the cut. V couldn't breathe. She wiped more of his blood over her thumb and stared at him as she licked it off, expressionless. The pistons in V's hands quieted.

He should know better than to let his guard down, he really should. Did he want to live more than he wanted to die by her hand?

She leaned forward, hovering her lips over his own. V closed his eyes and shuddered, finally exhaling the breath she stole. It was too much for him; he needed to put his hands on her, to close the gap between their lips, to profess his undying devotion.

Bea whispered, the softness of her breath on his lips created an aching need inside him. "I could kill you in a myriad of ways, right here, V." Her voice was sultry, erotic. She licked her lips slowly, her tongue dancing across his. V sharply inhaled when she grabbed the back of his neck. "Choke you, suffocate you, break your neck." She tightened her grip and V tilted his head back, savoring her death threats. She trailed her other hand down his neck to squeeze his thigh. "Bite that juicy artery in your neck apart." She traced his carotid artery with her thumb and goosebumps rippled up his neck. "Or tear out your femoral, my mouth so tantalizingly close to your cock." V let out a small whine.

Bea moved the hand on his thigh to the front of his neck and slowly squeezed. He was quickly brought out of his reverie and looked at her. "I like to watch their faces change colors."

Tighter.

V swallowed against the pressure, his Adam's apple struggled against her grip.

"See the fear and defeat in their eyes."

She squeezed harder and V resisted the call of self-preservation and kept his hands flat on the floor of the van. Her lips touched his, softly, not a kiss but a caress. She moved her hand up his neck to the base of his jaw and pressed her fingers into his carotid arteries reducing the blood to flow to his brain. His eyes fluttered and his cock twitched.

He couldn't tell at this point if she was playing with her food or if this was going somewhere. But he was tired and hungry and the van was getting hot and he needed fresh air and he needed to get away from her, even just for a few moments. He didn't like how she made him feel. He didn't like what she did to him, how easily her mere proximity broke down his defenses.

He didn't like that he felt weak around her, vulnerable and impotent.

He struggled to swallow and took a risk, "May I speak?" His voice was quiet, strained.

"You may," Bea said.

"I think," he tried to clear his throat and Bea loosened her grip.

"I didn't know you had a thought in your goddamn mind," Bea said and nipped at his lip. V whined again, a pathetic, high-pitched, needy sound and he felt Bea smile against his lips.

He placed his hands on her waist. The bare skin he felt was cold and he warmed his hands up. Her eyes briefly narrowed as she tried to suppress a shiver.

Impotent? Pathetic? Weak?

No.

He moved his head forward now, need outweighing the possible death sentence. But she moved her hand higher up his jaw, pinning his head back against the wall of the van. He swallowed again and licked his lips, "I think being killed by you would be a privilege."

Bea pulled her head back and looked at him incredulously, taken off guard. Her lower lip had a bloody vertical line where her mouth had hovered over the cut in his lip. He took advantage of her surprise and dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her waist and rolled them together to the floor of the van, pinning her beneath him. He shoved his knee between her legs, right up between her thighs, but not too close. Because he was annoyed now and while he wanted to play with her, he was just too goddamn tired and the van was suffocating and his cock throbbed against his jeans so much it hurt. She raised her hands to his shoulders, to push him off her, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms to the floor. He brought his head close to her neck and inhaled deeply, savoring the first full breath since her hands had been around his neck. She smelled of sweat and warm citrus. V looked down at her collarbones exposed by the neckline of the bodysuit. He dropped his head down and licked slowly from her collarbone up her neck to the corner of her jaw. He could feel her heartbeat quicken against his tongue but she didn't squirm, didn't make a sound.

"I also think," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, "That I don't like being fucking threatened." He gripped her wrists harder, finally engaging his Gorilla Arms to overlap his fingers over his thumb and Bea grunted in pain. "I'm fucking tired. If it's alright with you, killer, I'm going to go back to your apartment, to your bedroom, take off my clothes, lie down on your bed, and sleep like a fucking baby. And you," he gently pulled on the small gold ring in her earlobe with his teeth, "Can go fuck yourself."

He felt her cheeks move in a smile against his face. "Promise?"

V released her and made his way to the back door of the van. He looked back at her before opening the door. Bea was propped up on her elbows with her legs still spread and V's mouth watered. When the smile dropped and her face returned the mask of malice, he opened the door and got out. They wordlessly walked back to her apartment.

[theflyingfeeling]

you're a dog person. i'm a cat person. the solution? get one of each

That's absolutely Aleksi and Niko, starring Rilla and Rommi 🐶🐱

The only solution! 👌

Sorry in advance, for Aleksi and Niko don't actually interact until the very end, but I hope the interactions before that make up for it! 🤭 (Probably not what was expected, but this is what you'll get nevertheless 😅)

(1466 words)

~

“Rilla, no!”

Rilla, yes! the puppy’s eyes seemed to say when she looked up at Aleksi while chewing on one of his sneakers.

“Stop eating my shoe, you little devil…and the rug. And Joonas’ bracelets!”

“No, I’m in heaven!” Joonas pouted as he sat on the floor and watched Rilla climbing on his lap and starting to nibble the jewellery on Joonas’ wrist.

“But Niko said I can keep her only if she learns to behave,” Aleksi sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Since seven o’clock in the morning, so far Rilla had peed inside twice, pooped under the kitchen table once, destroyed the squeaky toy bunny Joonas had brought her, not even touched her food but eaten the slice of cucumber Aleksi had offered her off his sandwich with great appetite, swallowed a random piece of paper she had found on the floor, attempted to eat small rocks when Aleksi had taken her outside, and barked at a little kid who had stopped to aww at Rilla with her mother on the other side of the fence. In addition, she had been startled by her own reflection on the big bedroom mirror, more or less accidentally splashed the water in her water bowl all over the kitchen, and cried behind the door while Aleksi was in the bathroom until he let her in. Niko had left the house early, so he had missed the chaos unfolding, but Aleksi doubted any of that fitted his definition of “good behaviour”.

“That’s just his usual trash talk, you know,” Joonas chuckled and did nothing to stop Rilla from biting the drawstrings of his hoodie.

“He seemed pretty serious, though. He wasn’t exactly pleased when she chewed a hole in his favourite Vans.”

“Did a favour to us all,”  Joonas reassured Aleksi, smiling at the puppy who had moved on to gnawing Joonas’ sleeves. “But…are you sure it’s a good idea to get a dog and a cat at the same time?”

Aleksi frowned; for a few serene seconds, he had managed to forget about how Niko would arrive with the new kitten any moment now, when the whole house looked like someone had turned it upside down and given it a good shake before putting it back on its foundations.

“No,” Aleksi admitted, “but Niko had read somewhere that it’d be easier if they get used to each other from a young age.”

It must have its perks, Aleksi thought, but at the same time he was terrified of the holy mess the two baby animals would cause in their lives. Would the cat let Rilla sleep in their bed, for instance?

Would Niko, after the cat had moved in?

“Well, as much as I’d like to see the look on both Niko’s and the kitten’s face when they see this,” Joonas gestured at the current wreckage in the living room, “I gotta go back to work now. I’ll come see you guys later, when the mutts have settled in.”

“Wish us luck,” Aleksi smiled faintly, holding back grunting Rilla who wanted to run after Joonas.

“Woops, there they are already,” Joonas yelped as he peeked through the front door window. “Good luck!”

 Once Aleksi had made sure the door through which Joonas had left the house was securely closed and locked, he let go of the puppy, who immediately ran to the door and left a few visible claw marks on its wooden surface. Realising Joonas would not return, she hurried back to the living room and jumped on Aleksi’s lap.

“How could he not want to keep you?” Aleksi scratched the behind of Rilla’s ear, making her back foot stomp in rhythm with the scratches.

Then, faster than Aleksi’s reflexes, the spider plant Joonas had given them up for adoption attracted the Rilla’s interest, and with the determination of a 10-week-old puppy, she chomped a mouthful of its leaves.

“Rilla, NO!”

His command came far too late, for less than half a second later, the flower pot was on the floor with a loud crash.

~

Niko smiled fondly at the white ball of fur sleeping on his lap.

“Are you gonna  go in or shall we sit here the whole day?” Tommi’s question interrupted the tender moment.

“I just don’t have the heart to wake him up! Look at him!”

“Yes, he is still as cute as he was ten seconds ago when you last asked me to look at him,” said Tommi, kind enough to at least try to hide his obvious amusement.

“I think he’s actually managed to become even cuter,” Niko argued. His heart melted in his chest when the kitten yawned. 

“Did you already come up with a name for little fella?” Tommi asked and petted the satiny kitten fur.

“Not yet,” Niko answered. He was supposed to think of one while they drove back home from the cat breeder, but somehow his brain had gone completely free of thoughts other than tiny and soft the moment he had seen the kitten being brought to him.

“You should name him after me,” Tommi stated, “for my crucial input in bringing him home. Who else out of your friends would you have trusted with such a responsibility?”

Tommi made a valid argument there; for starters, Joel was a little afraid of cats – and practically anything, if you asked Joonas – whereas Joonas’ eyes would have been 90% of the time on the cute little baby animal and 10% on the road. Olli, on the other hand,  would’ve maybe remembered to pick Niko up sometime next week.

“You’re right. I’ll keep it in mind, big guy,” Niko smiled and gave Tommi’s arm a fist bump. “Thanks for coming with me. I really hope this whole thing will work out.”

“You’ll make it work,” Tommi winked. “Now get the hell out of my car, I have things to do and places to be.”

“Fiiiiiiiiiiiine,” Niko sighed, his heart almost breaking when the kitten lifted his head and began observing his surroundings with sleepy eyes, having been woken up prematurely from his nap as Niko climbed out of Tommi’s Peugeot. 

“Swing by one of these days. I’ll get you beer.”

“You better,” Tommi grinned before Niko slammed the door shut and sent Tommi off to his Tommi business.

He turned around to see Joonas standing on their front porch.

“Ohhhh no, it’s too tiny!” Joonas pouted the second his eyes spotted the sleepy kitten in Niko’s arms.

Now that is an appropriate reaction, Niko thought, his baseline for the comparison being the respectful nod Tommi had given upon meeting the kitten for the first time.

“Oh, poor baby, Rilla will absolutely eat you alive,” Joonas spoke to the kitten in the embarrassing baby-talk voice he always adopted whenever he saw something even remotely cute. 

“We’ll see who will eat who. I have a feeling this little guy is gonna be a feisty one,” Niko smirked, proudly reminiscing how the kitten had mercilessly taken his revenge on the fly that had buzzed by a little too close to his face when Niko had watched the kittens play in the backyard of the breeder’s house.

“From your cat, I’d expect nothing less,” Joonas conceded, giving the kitten one more scratch under his jaw before waving his goodbye. “Gotta run now, have fun!”

‘Have fun’ sounded suspiciously ominous to Niko, and he stopped to stare at the front door for a minute before he’d go in, wondering what would be waiting for him inside.

Verily, his fear was not in vain; already in the hallway he noticed a wet spot on the rug that he hoped was just water (never mind the fact Rilla’s water bowl was nowhere to be seen), and tiny shreds of newspaper were scattered here and there as he walked down the aisle towards the living room. There he found more signs of devastation: a broken flower pot, the white fillings of what used to be a stuffed bunny by the looks of it, another newspaper with a puddle of pee on it, a flat toy ball, and some other scrap Niko quite couldn’t identify sprinkled all over the floor.

In the middle of it all there was Aleksi laying on his back, a blissful smile on his face and a sleeping dachshund puppy on his stomach, and Niko could not imagine a more endearing sight.

“You’re home!” Aleksi’s smile widened as he looked up at Niko and the kitten. “We’re taking a nap, come join us!”

With a silent laugh and a shake of his head, Niko sat down on the floor next to Aleksi and lay on his back, placing the still sleepy kitten on his chest.

Having found a comfortable position, Niko pressed a kiss on Aleksi’s cheek.

“Yes, We’re home.”

[tinyyoungblood]

romance, eh? | peter parker

summary: it’s the broken main characters typeshi where they don’t think they deserve love, but over the course of the movie, they help each other and fall in love. football fields and late night drives. it’s kinda cute

pairing: peter parker x reader

trope: best friends to lovers

warning: language, very fluffy

a/n: i’ve resurrected from the dead, waddup <3

* * *

You were sat at the porch of your house, tossing rocks down the driveway and watching them skip toward a puddle. The sound of splashing water was the only source of entertainment as you were seemingly the only person alive in this town. When you realized that you had finally run out of stones to throw, you considered hurling the gnome down the driveway but decided against it and instead, patted your pockets in an attempt to locate your phone. To your surprise, it started ringing the second you held it in your palm. Peter’s name flashed boldly across the screen, illuminating your face. You answered the call and stood up.

“Where the hell are you?”

Loud rustling was on the other side of the line, and you squinted down the road in search of any approaching cars.

Finally, his familiar voice rang through the phone’s speakers. “Y/N, fuck, I’m—ow.” You heard a car door shut, and a string of curse words lingered at the tip of your tongue.

“Oh God, you’re not telling me you’re still at home, are you? Please tell me, you just closed the door to get out of your car and not in.” Absolute silence followed, and you could practically see him sit still like a deer caught in headlights. A beat followed before he replied carefully.

“What if I tell you I just entered a very sketchy dance battle in the middle of the forest and now it takes me 10 to 15, maybe even 20 minutes, to kick ass and get out of here?”

You took a deep breath and dragged your feet back to the porch, shunning it with a glare. “Parker, I swear to God, if I hear you turn on the engine right now, I’m going to set your Star Wars collection on fire.”

You heard him mumble something on the other side of the line, but were only able to pick out a soft “not cool”. The clanking of keys occurred next and before you knew it, the engine was yanked to life, making you groan loudly. “I hate you.”

You heard him set the phone down with a chuckle, switching to speaker. “I’ll get over it. Just don’t touch my Star Wars.”

You slumped back on the porch and grimaced at the spider web hanging above your head. Scooting away from it, you let your back hit the wooden ground, phone still pressed against your ear. “Just hurry up,” You murmured, defeat and exhaustion instilling a softness in your voice. He cooed at you.

“Don’t worry, I know there’s never any parking space on Thursdays, but I’ll run all the way from the parking lot to your house. Actually, I’ll start running the second this car is parked—no, wait, I’ll start running while I’m still in the car—”

“Peter,” you cut him off, knowing he could go on forever but still somehow end up not coming at all. “Just drive safely, okay? I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Fine,” he replied, “but I’ll have you know that I have now stomped two holes into the car’s floor to get to you Flintstone style. That’s the dedication we’re working with here.” A subtle click followed, signaling that he had ended the call.

Light laughter bubbled over your lips, and you shook your head at your best friend’s words. He was a dumbass, but at least he could make you laugh. One of the many reasons, you adored him. The rest of your life could be spent listing off the other reasons, but even in the afterlife, you wouldn’t be halfway done. You didn’t bother to sit up, opting to just lay on your back until either he would arrive or a passer-by would mistake you for a corpse and call the police. Whatever came first.

The next few minutes were waste of time. Now and then, a glance would be cast at the display of your phone, but that was really how far it went with the physical activity. For all Peter knew, you could’ve been dead when he finally arrived, dashing toward you like a maniac chased by the Holy Spirit. “Y/N?” He skidded to a halt and breathed hard. “You alive?” You felt him poke your side with his finger. Too drowsy to react, you simply lifted your hand and gave him a thumbs up. A grin swept over his lips, and he bent down to scoop you up, coaxing a sign of life out of you as you squealed but almost immediately after melted into his chest.

He chuckled and carried you to his car. “Hello to you too, baby.”

You forced an eye open. “Took you long enough.”

Shrugging, he cocked his head to the side and lifted the corner of his mouth. “Oh, you know, some girl was babbling my ear off while I was on my way here. Really messed up my schedule.” He pretended to scowl at you, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Seems like she didn’t do her job right.” You tucked at his earlobe, and he grimaced. “Such a bummer. You could’ve totally pulled off the Van Gogh look.”

He let you down into the passenger seat, shutting the door for you and setting his crossed arms on the rolled-down car window. “Oh yeah? You got a thing for dead artists now?” His face was in a twist, and you found yourself rolling your eyes again.

“I got a thing for guys who value punctuality,” you replied pointedly, and Peter let out a loud laugh. Leaning down, he came to an eye-level with you.

“Good thing, that’s not me then, am I right.” He winked and walked over to the driver’s side. In a second, he was seated next to you and reversing out of the parking lot, head turned to look behind him while his arm was holding onto the back of your seat. You took the second of concentration to take in his features. When he caught you staring, a smug smile raised to his lips, but you were quick to smack his chest with the back of your hand.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I was just checking if you had a black eye or at least a broken nose,” you said and ignored the way he cocked his brow.

“Thanks?” His eyes flickered between you and the road. “I gotta tell you, that’s a very sadistic love language you speak, but I’ll take it.”

You shot him a glare. “How else do you want to explain being 40 minutes late if it wasn’t being robbed by a biker gang and left in a ditch?”

“My answer was lack of time management by birth, but your excuse does sound far cooler.”

“Well, sadly, there’s no biker gang.” You heaved a sigh of exhaustion. “Otherwise, I would’ve gladly let them de-ball you.”

Peter cackled at your words, shaking his head before reaching over to pat your knee. “And they say romance is dead. I bet they’ve never met a total sweetheart like you.”

You broke out into a grin and swiftly whipped around to stare outside the window. Deciding to roll it up to stop the fidgeting of your hands, Peter made it his mission to choose the perfect song for your little drive. When the song “Midnight City” came up, he stopped and turned to you while wigging his brows obnoxiously. Pointing to the time on the upper corner of the car’s display, he awaited your reaction. It was five minutes past midnight.

You sighed. “Peter…”

“Oh, shut it, Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, morphing the pout on his face into a matching smirk. “You know,” he spoke up, still staring ahead, “Sometimes I wonder why I’m even friends with you if you never appreciate my genius.” He gestured to his face, and you snorted.

Your eyes caught a brown bag that was sitting at your feet. “I’m here to keep your ego from exploding, I thought we’ve already gone over this—hey, what’s this?”

Peter glanced at you. “Booze.” He said it so casually you barely wondered how he got a hold of it. “You told me to get the good stuff, remember?”

Frowning, you leaned forward and tried to catch his gaze. His eyes flickered to yours. “What?”

“Since when is the good stuff not chocolate?”

He contemplated your words for a second before pulling a face. “Oh. Well, you wanted to bitch about our sucky love lives, so I assumed that involved liquor.” He shrugged. “To make it less excruciatingly painful, you know.” Eyeing the bottle in your hand, you pursed your lips, oblivious to Peter’s pleading look to just go with it. You hadn’t an idea what he had to go through just to swipe that bottle.

“I guess,” you finally replied and screwed off the cap to take a big gulp, feeling the liquid burn down your throat. Raising the bag, you flashed him a big smile. “Off to our voyage!”

He mirrored it, also raising his fist in the air. “Off to the deserted island named football field.”

- - - - -

“So what’s got your love life in a twist?” Peter asked casually while biting a piece off his sour belt. Within the past hour, the two of you had consumed a considerate amount of alcohol but had yet to experience feeling fatally wasted. A slight haze had infiltrated your senses, but that was really it. You both were still perfectly capable of having a proper conversation.

“You mean my panties?”

“Huh?” He narrowed his eyes in deep thought. “Oh, you want to talk about your underwear. Yeah, I guess that’s fine too.”

“No, you meant my panties are in a twist.” He turned to look at you.

“Why would your panties be in a twist? Do you want me to untwist them?” Slowly, the corner of his mouth curved into a not-so-subtle smirk, and you fought hard to keep a straight face.

“I really do hate you, Parker.”

He grinned back at you. “Means I must be doing something right, huh.”

Choosing to ignore his words, your gaze traveled the dark night sky above, littered with endless sparkling white dots. Peter mirrored your action, letting comfortable silence settle in, as the two of you continued to lay next to each other on top of the roof of his car.

“I don’t know,” you responded after a while. You felt him look the side of your face, but you forced yourself to fix your gaze on anything other than your best friend beside you, your fingers fiddled with one another in your lap. “I guess I just haven’t caught anybody’s eyes yet. No one really likes me, you know.”

“I like you.”

“You know what I mean, Peter.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you sighed and took up the courage to meet his eyes. They weren’t holding any trails of pity like excepted. Instead, you gazed into nothing but a loving pool of honey that ignited clouds of warmth to swirl in your stomach. He looked at you in a way you couldn’t quite place, and you had to force yourself to look away, just barely missing the glint of disappointment as you broke the eye contact. You shrugged, an unsure smile gracing your lips. “Somebody will come along, I’m sure. Maybe at a hot dog stand. Hot dog stands are reliable, right?”

The tone in your voice, lacing your words like grapevine, was poisonous, making the boy beside you sit up and pull you right along. Your poor attempt of self-assurance didn’t sit right with Peter, but you didn’t feel like confronting it just yet, and he knew that. So, he tried to catch your gaze, and given that you had no other choice but to look at one of the most important people in your life, you dropped your shoulders and gave in. You simply stared at each other in silence, seemingly waiting for the other one to crack first. The serious situation quickly shifted into a comedic but intense stare battle and before you knew it, you were pulling faces at each other.

You were pretty certain, the alcohol in your system did not contribute a thing to it, but eventually, even the two of you would fall victim to it as you already felt it tuck at some loose strings. And Peter being Peter, he spoke up first.

“If neither of us cracks any time soon, we will both look like fools who escaped a mental institution and are roleplaying as Harley Quinn and the Joker.”

And just like that, laughter bubbled over your lips, prompting a face-splitting smile to dance on his lips while his eyes were staring at you like you had created all good in the world. It quickly turned into heartfelt laughter and once he joined in, it only made you laugh harder.

Your eyes drifted until they met those familiar honey ones again. The ones you have known since childhood, and the ones you had stared into one too many times tonight. And suddenly the entire world was encased into an incredulously large pool of amber that you never wanted to leave. It made sense. It just clicked, and suddenly the riddle was complete.

And the best part about it all was that you knew he felt the same way. He had never been an easy book to read, not even when you were children, but that night, in the middle of the football field, you could read him like he was your favorite poem. Each line and metaphor were as clear as the sky. Without having acknowledged it much, your face had grown closer in proximity with his. So, when he decided to speak, his voice was a hushed whisper. The alcohol easily fanning over your lips in waves.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” He inched closer, nose bumping against yours while his gaze danced between your lips and your eyes. “To find out how your lips feel on mine.”

His words caused newfound confidence to surge through your veins. The corner of your mouth quirked into a smirk, and you leaned forward. Lips brushing against his when you spoke. “I can put it on my to-do list if you want to know so badly.”

He chuckled, hand reaching up to cup your cheek while the other slid across your back. “Baby, you don’t understand how badly I want to know.”

He pressed his lips against yours, and immediately you sunk into the pool of amber. But you could taste more than just alcohol. There were honey and warmth. The way he made you feel—the way he had always made you feel all along, even in the most platonic ways. When cracking jokes or during shared detention. There had always been clouds of sweetness and joy surrounding you whenever he was near, but now that you had finally acquired the taste, you were addicted. You were making out with your best friend, and you loved everything about it. His arms tightened around you as you caressed his heated cheeks. They traveled to the back of his neck, threading through the curls of his hair, and pressing him closer to you.

When it was time to break away, you nibbled on his bottom lips, reluctantly parting, but still remaining close as his forehead rested against yours. He stared into your eyes with a whimsical smile while he tried to catch his breath. “Do you still hate me?”

You chuckled. “You know what, Parker?” Shaking your head, you tried to catch the train of thought you were losing just by gazing into his eyes. “Just a little bit.”

* * *

it’s 4 am here, and i’m pretty sure i’m sleeping as i’m typing this lol i had way too much fun with the dialogue. let me know what you think! as always, thank you so much for reading 💞 have a sweet one, guys x

masterlist

taglist: @honeypie-holland @himarisolace @duskholland @insidiousslut @siriuslyslyslytherin @quaksonhehe @geminiparkers @writertoo18 @fl0ating @luwloki @missnxthingg @hufflepuffhollander @dummiesshort @itstaskeen @nerdyandproudofitsstuff @totallyfangirling7177 @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @starlight-starks @fire1ordzuzu @parkerlovebot @parkerlovebot @ethereal-beauty-p​ @theweekendss @tom-hlover @peterspideysstuff @miraclesoflove @prettysbliss @fancyxparker @tom-hlover @blossomparkers 

[jjungkookislife]

The Key to My Drawer Ch. 4

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: bf2l, eventual smut 18+, angst

wc: 1.5k

warnings: cursing, mention of spiders, oc sends a “flirty” picture 

date: June 28, 2020

You’re unaware of the sun setting as you push some pictures and letters off to the side to get comfortable in his bed.  You’ve read more of them, you’ve put those back in the drawer. 

Tannie is sleeping soundly in his bed on the opposite side of the room.  His little snores make you smile as you reach for another letter after turning on the bedside lamp.  The soft glow is enough to illuminate the letter in your hands, #11. 

The sky is beautiful today, but it’s beauty can’t compare to you. 

Shit, was that too cheesy? It was, wasn’t it? I’m glad you’ll never see this then… haha.

You are beautiful though and I can’t stop staring at you but I have to.  You’re starting to look at your phone, smiling to show your teeth and check for spinach.  You haven’t had spinach in a decade, but you still check. 

“Do I have something on my face?” You ask me and I laugh, loudly.  I shake my head, “no. You look perfect.”  

You are perfect. 

Today was torture, but we’d had this trip planned for months.  Way before I realized I loved you but I guess… I should have known even back then.  

What I didn’t have planned was Joon’s car breaking down the morning of our trip.  I tried to back out, tried to make an excuse, but you wouldn’t hear of it.  You wanted me to go; you know how much I love the ocean.  

“I’ll just sit on your lap, it’ll be fine,” you shrugged as we all climbed into Jin’s van. It was stifling hot, or maybe it was just me burning up with embarrassment.  You sat in my lap.  I tried to keep my arms at my side, I swear I did, but with every bump on the ride, you slid side to side. 

Jungkook tired of you bumping into him and Jimin. 

“Tae, hold her! She’s going to get hurt,” he huffed, and I wrapped my arms around you tightly.  “Do you want me to hold her instead?”

No.

I shook my head, looking back out the window after.  You seemed to relax, putting your weight on me.  Your head ended up on my shoulder as we watched the world go by.  My arms held you securely, limiting the jostling of your body that the road caused.  

We talked about everything we planned on doing that weekend. You were so excited to lie on the beach and build sandcastles.  You said you might get a little daring and wade in the water.  You’ve never been one to go swimming, you can’t stand getting salt water in your eyes but you do it for me.  I appreciate it.  

I wondered what it would be like to hold you like that always… to be able to wrap my arms around you and kiss you.  

We just got assigned our rooms and to no surprise, we’re sharing a bed.  I don’t mind; I hope you don’t either.  

You’re unpacking even though we’ll be here two days.  You say it’s a habit, but I know you just want something to do until we head out.  You keep asking what I’m writing, giggling when I tell you it’s my diary. 

You ask if I’ll ever let you read it; I said someday.  

Someday…

You put the letter back inside the envelope before getting out of bed to go take a shower.  You rush out though, running into the bedroom to make sure Tannie hasn’t gotten on the bed.  

Your worry dissipates when you see him sound asleep.  He really is a good dog. 

You stay in the room to dry your hair, looking over at your duffel bag that Tae had set in the bedroom when you had first arrived.  You pull out a pair of panties to put on before you go to his dresser. You open the top drawer, taking out one of his oversized shirts to throw on.  You admire yourself in the mirror, pinching the collar to bring it up to your nose to sniff it.  

The familiar scent of your best friend fills your nose, comforting you as you get ready for bed. 

You move the letters and the pictures back into the drawer, making sure you don’t close it all the way before you take the letter you had set aside to read before going to sleep.  

On the nightstand, besides the lamp, your phone vibrates.  Tannie’s ears perk up, an eye peering open to look at you.  

You smile in apology, grabbing your phone to see a text from Taehyung asking how Tannie and you are doing.  You send back a picture of a sleeping Tannie and a few heart emojis. 

Taehyung smiles before sending back a heart and asking if you’re doing okay alone?  

Your heart thumps wildly at the emoji, your cheeks surging with heat.  You tell him you’ll be fine as you move your phone to angle it to show your full body in the shot.  

You take a picture, smiling in it before sending it.  

When Taehyung receives it, his heart stops.  His eyes widen as he sees you in his bed, wearing nothing but his shirt.  A text comes in shortly after, it says ‘I miss you.’

You wait for a response, but it takes a few minutes for Taehyung to text back.  He misses you and he’ll see you soon.  Your heart skips a beat.

I can’t believe this is the twelfth letter I’ve written to you and then not shown you… 

You’re laying beside me and I can’t sleep.  I’m using your nightlight to write this, hoping I won’t wake you up. 

We spent the entire day on the beach, you’re worn out and frankly, so am I.  We built sandcastles, played games with the guys and then we walked on the beach collecting seashells while the sunset.  

Your smile was radiant every time you found a pretty shell, showing it to me before you put it in the bucket.  We held the bucket together, our fingers brushing every now and again.  For a moment I could pretend we were holding hands.  

You squealed when the chilly water brushed along your feet, but you let me lead you into the ocean ankle deep.  That alone is an accomplishment of your own, I’m proud of you. 

We made s’mores on the beach, my arm wrapped around you when you shivered.  I caught Jimin’s eye, and he winked at me.  He knows.   Everyone knows except you.  

My breath got caught in my throat when you placed your head on my shoulder, your lips brushing my cheek when you tried to eat my s’more.  I swear my heart was thumping so loud, there’s no way you didn’t hear it. 

You giggled, pouted and asked me to share.  I can never say no to you.  I’m weak.  I gave you my s’more, and you kissed my cheek; it was worth it.  I'd do it again and again.  

We were the last ones to come to bed; we cuddled in front of the fire until it went out.  You asked me if I thought we’d be friends forever as you looked up at the star-filled sky. 

I said, “I hope so.” 

But all I could see is you, for you are the brightest star. 

You didn’t notice though, your eyes were wide with wonder as you told me all about the stars.  I wish I could remember any of it, but I’m sure you’ll remind me tomorrow night and the night after that.  I wouldn’t mind if you reminded me every night for the rest of our lives, except then, you’d be holding my hand. 

You yawned, stretched and batted your lashes at me, asking if I was ready for bed. I was.  

We made sure the fire was out before we left.  You made me check three times before we actually walked back into the house.  Then you called the shower first and screamed when there was a spider in the corner.  

I walked in there with a lot of bravado, but I don’t like spiders either.  But for you, oh my love, for you, I’d do anything.  You didn’t want me to squish it, no! I had to get a piece of paper and scoop it up to let it back outside.  My body was shaking so bad, but for you I’d do anything. Man, fuck spiders. 

We talked until you fell asleep, curling into a ball and rolling toward the wall.  I’m glad you didn’t get the edge, you’d have fallen on your face as you murmured about seashells and sandcastles. 

I wonder if my name ever leaves your lips when you sleep.  When you’re so exhausted but your mind can’t help but form words, anyway.  

I guess I should get some sleep.  You have a big day planned for us tomorrow and I’d hate to disappoint you.  

Goodnight, Y/n. 

I love you...

© jjungkookislife - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms, this includes Youtube.

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[bookandcranny]

If You can Change Your Tune

The interloper arrives in a rented moving van, the same sort as all the ones before.

“Are you sure about this?” her friend asks as they pull up to the house. “I know you’ve always had a thing for fixer-uppers but this place might be beyond saving.”

Even as she unlocks the front door the wind whistles a note of warning through its rickety frame. The floorboards beneath their feet crackle and moan at the intrusion.

“All it needs is a little love,” the interloper retorts. Her name is Ann. I remember her from the showing, a woman of insufferably good cheer walking room to room with the equally annoying realtor of the week, a dopey smile hanging from her lips.

I didn’t think much of it at the time. People like her come around from time to time with aspirations in their heads of moving into the rural countryside to rehabilitate my thickets into sprawling gardens or write the next great American novel from within my historic walls. Seeing the reality of the place in person was usually enough to convince them to chase their fantasies elsewhere. However, it appears this particular happy-go-lucky thorn in my side needs a bit more work to dislodge.

“Are you sure you’re not in over your head?” the other one asks. I try to guess at their relationship. Friend? Sister? A lover? I’m sick to death of couples.

“It’s a little late for me to back out now,” Ann laughs, twirling the keys around her finger. “Don’t worry, Nick’s bringing his crew over tomorrow to start on the repairs. She’s a project but the foundation’s sound. Next time you see this place she’ll be a real beauty.”

“’She’?”

“Yeah, you know, like how people call cars or boats a she.” She climbs the stairs and runs her hand along the dusty banister. I think of splinters— with luck maybe she’ll get tetanus- but nothing comes of it.

The house is my body. Two stories, twelve rooms not including the attic, an old-fashioned spiral staircase, and me, the greatest antique of all, left to rot. Once upon a time a family used to live here: a mother and father, a veritable litter of hyperactive young children, uncles and aunts and cousins who would stay with them some summers and during Christmastime, and the wizened pale face of a grandfather who watched over them from above the mantle. It was all very precious, very southern hospitality, very postcard perfect. All very gone. Not even their ghosts remained; just me, and all the better for it.

Chesterfield is the name of the county as well as the nearest town, though from what I understand that’s using the term lightly. Most folks local to the area know better than to disturb me, but sometimes they get bold. Bored teenagers mostly, or suited vultures looking to see if there’s any profit to be squeezed from the property. In its heyday, the house was probably a sight to behold, but I wouldn’t know much about that. Memories of my life, if ever I truly lived, are slippery like oil on the water’s surface, impossible to grasp.

Though without eyes or ears or a mind to make use of them, I can “see” through my many windows— if eyes are the windows to the soul, maybe windows are can be eyes to the spirits— and “hear” any sounds that tremble through my frame. I’m grateful for these senses; they help me keep things in order. If someone starts to get a little too cozy with my corridors, and providing the spiders don’t scare them off first, I just slam a few doors, flicker a few lights, and they go running.

The interloper and her extra finish moving in the last of the boxes. She squeezes her arm and gives her a peck on the cheek.

“I’ll send you pics once I’ve got my room set up,” she says.

“Bold of you to think you’ll survive that long. This place is definitely haunted. Do you get cell service out here? I want to call a coroner and tell them to save your spot.”

“I don’t remember making this big a deal when you moved into your first place.”

“It had bed bugs, but it didn’t have ghosts.”

Ann makes a face. “I’ll take my chances with the ghosts.” She puts an arm around her shoulders. “Kim. You’re acting like I’m dropping off the map. You’re the one leaving the country.”

“For two weeks!” Her expression grows tense. “I feel bad leaving you like this. I should’ve been there for you, there was just so much going on.”

“It wouldn’t have changed my mind.”

She sighs dramatically. “No, nothing can, can it? I fear for whoever you end up tricking into marrying you.”

Ann slaps her playfully on the arm. “Do not start on that. Speaking of which, don’t you have a honeymoon to be on? Go on, get.”

Kim puts her hands up in mock surrender and backs out the front door. I raise one of the loose planks on the porch and she trips, just barely evading a tumble down the front steps.

“See? Cursed!”

“Go!” But she’s laughing as she adds, “Thank you for the help. It means a lot, even if Sophie is gonna kill me for keeping you this long.”

“I’ve got time to talk her down.”

The U-haul rumbles away down the dirt road until it’s a muddled blur in my perception and then, finally, gone. I’m alone with the enemy now. More importantly, she is alone with me.

I slam the door. It’s the easiest most classic trick in the book. Ann jumps and looks around. I know what she’s thinking. Just the wind? Or could it be…?

But no, one small act like that won’t be enough to convince her. With a shrug, she returns to the task of moving in. She shuffles around a few boxes in the foyer and starts moving them one by one up to the second floor. All things considered she hasn’t much to move in, but I’m not fooled. Where one intruder appears, more will follow, and bring all their junk and their noise and their petty living problems with them.

All my original furniture was auctioned off in an estate sale. It took place right here on the lawn, and I watched through my windows as they divvied up my family’s belongings, breaking them down into numbers and measures of worth for the masses. For the most part though I didn’t miss it. The absence of clutter made the space feel bigger, and I got used to the emptiness.

The interloper sets up in the master bedroom and unpacks some supplies to give the room a cursory cleaning. The agency normally sent someone over to prepare the place for new residence, but since the last few rounds of movers had come and gone, they hadn’t bothered. If Ann minds, she doesn’t show it, and I have to admit it’s nice to have someone sweep away the dirt and detritus.

After cleaning to her satisfaction, she starts opening boxes with foreign labels and assembling her furniture from strange little kits, turning sheets of instructions over in her hands as she nibbles on a hangnail. The result is a set of cheap-looking geometric furniture that makes her curse as she accidentally attaches the table leg to the chair and the chair leg to the bedframe. Something about watching her work transfixes me. Probably her comical ineptitude.

After she fixes all the furniture she dresses her new bed and starts cluttering her shelves with all kinds of bizarre toys and knickknacks. Among her affects is a paperback book titled “the art of moving in and moving on”. I scoff.

“This is a temporary arrangement. Very temporary, you got it?” I tell her, though I know she can’t hear me. I know this, but it still annoys me. It feels like she’s ignoring me.

The interloper smiles to herself and takes out a black rectangle that she holds up like a camera, though the shape is far too small and thin. She lowers it, considering, and then from yet another box digs out a string of Christmas lights and hangs them up above the bed.

“It’s June,” I say, dumbfounded.

I look at the string of lights and put pressure on one of the bulbs until it bursts. She jumps, but the moment passes. She spends the bulk of the evening fussing with her camera-thing until she falls asleep.

Fine. If she wants to play hardball, I’ll play hardball.

 --

 In the morning, the interloper’s camera-thing plays a tune to rouse her. Her waking is both a curse and a blessing, for while I was glad to be free of her active meddling, even as she slept I was never able to completely ignore her presence. I feel her like an itch, like a stubborn pimple forming beneath my skin, and I’m glad to sense her rising if only because it means I can get back to business sooner rather than later.

The water heater and other facilities are still in good condition from the last unfortunate newcomers I drove from my doorstep, which frees her to take a long shower, singing obnoxiously all the while. This, however, is a perfect opportunity for me. When the heat from the shower fogs the chipped bathroom mirror, I brandish my loathing like a pen and write her a message. Granted, precision isn’t my forte, so the words come out a little smeared and crooked, but still the intent is clear as can be.

LEAVE

Ann squints at the streaked mirror. “Love?”

“Are you really that stupid?”

She looks around but, seeing no one, shrugs it off again and starts to brush her teeth. When she ducks her head to spit, I quickly try again.

MINE

“Mina? Who’s Mina?”

I groan. Okay, perhaps a more symbolic approach. I will the mirror to shatter, but just then a loud knocking sounds and Ann runs off in a frenzy before she can see the long crack forming down the center.

“Door’s open!” She calls from the landing as she hurries to finish dressing with one hand and wrangle her hair into a towel with the other.

I try to hold it shut, but despite my efforts, the door is forced open and a parade of half a dozen handymen file into the entryway. As they start setting up, a burly towheaded man breaks from the pack and goes to meet Ann as she’s bounding down the stairs.

“Careful, careful. Don’t put your foot through anything before I’ve even had the chance to bill you.”

“Nick,” Ann says fondly. “If these stairs could handle me, Kim, and the fifty-pound mattress we lugged up there yesterday, I think they’re stable.”

“You gals didn’t have to do all that. I could’ve—“

“It’s fine,” she insists. “You’re helping me out enough as it is.”

“Yeah, well, we’re even for that whole thing at Kim’s wedding now.”

“More than even,” she agreed. “I know this was last minute. Dinner’s on me tonight. I’ll order enough pizza for the entire crew.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. You haven’t seen how much Seth can eat.”

Their easy banter disgusts me. Living people are all the same; wandering around with blind optimism or bemoaning every bad turn, blissfully unaware of how little it truly mattered. One wrong step with those tools of theirs and any one of them could be joining me among the shiftless dead. I don’t have any desire for that kind of company so I decide to wait until they’re done with their renovations before I risk trying to scare anyone again.

As it is they hardly need my help. Ann, it turns out, is more than just clueless, she’s a klutz. If that isn’t enough she insists on “helping” right up until she almost shoots herself in the foot with a nail gun. Nick warns her not to try it again but I don’t feel any anger from him. The crew are all familiar with one another and with her. They chat and toss around jokes between tasks; someone puts on music.

The feeling isn’t quite a tangible one, but then neither am I. It’s an energy I struggle to describe, something like wading in a river and being aware of a splash rippling from upstream. Compared to the sharp tang of fear I’m accustomed to, all this amicability is nauseatingly sweet.

Ann beams, and the high arches of her cheeks dimple and flush darkly, round as apples.

“What exactly do you have to be so happy about?” I hiss in her ear.

As much as I hate to admit it though, I can understand why someone like her moved so easily among the crowd. Even when she was getting underfoot, she’s a difficult person to condemn for it. How could anyone begrudge her excitement when it was so abundant? Or her love when it was so freely given?

Growing impatient with it all, I knock a toolbox off the top of a stepladder and send its contents scattering in all directions. It lands hard and the sounds of work, the music and the laughter, all come to an abrupt stop.

“What was that?” someone asks. A worker crouches down underneath the arch of the ladder to collect some of the scattered screws and I, with great satisfaction, tip the thing over on top of him. The damage is little, but it’s enough to get the entire crew good and spooked.

“I didn’t touch it,” the injured handyman insists as he nurses his bruises with an icepack. “It just collapsed.”

“Maybe this place is haunted,” another jokes, but her smile doesn’t quite cover her nervousness.

“Kim said the same thing,” Ann muses to herself. Nick looks at her and she startles, as if she hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud.

“I was wondering how you were able to afford this place, even with the damage.”

“Oh don’t start with all that black cat broken mirror stuff. You see bad omens in everything.”

“And you don’t see red flags until they’re waving right in the face. Not even then,” he accuses. Her guilty expression says there’s some truth to his words. “Tell me honestly, is this house haunted?”

“That’s silly. Of course not.”

“Then how do you explain what just happened?” I demand with frustration.

“Then how do you explain what just happened?” asks the injured worker.

“Thank you!”

Ann hums thoughtfully and looks up at my aged walls, my decrepit ceilings. “The realtor warned me there were rumors about this place. This house has survived fire, flood, and an attempted demolition; somehow nothing was ever able to destroy it, and every person who’s lived here had reported seeing strange things. Objects moving on their own, strange sounds at night.”

Nick leans forward in his seat. “And what did you say when they told you all that?”

“I told her it sounded perfect.”

He puts his head in his hands. “Ann. Mary-Ann Thorne. Tell me you did not buy an actual haunted house. When Kim told me you just up and bought a house on a whim I thought that was crazy enough but this…”

“I didn’t buy a haunted house,” she says. She stood up straight and spread her hands with a dramatic flourish. “I bought a survivor. Houses are like people. They have personalities, they have their own little quirks, their likes and dislikes. Old houses most of all. I could tell as soon as I walked into this place that… well that she had something special. I can’t explain it, I just felt so drawn to her.”

She places her hand on the wall and holds it there. If I were alive I think I would shiver.

“She’s been through a lot, but with some TLC she’s gonna sing, I can feel it.”

“That’s crazy,” Nick says, but she isn’t listening. Not to him. It’s almost as if… almost…

“Can you hear me?”

She doesn’t respond. Of course she doesn’t. I berate myself for even daring to expect something so deluded. However, her little speech seems to encourage the crew, or else they’ve just calmed down enough to put aside their reservations and get back to work.

Watching them I feel… strange. Even when my house had been lived in before I had never really felt so cared for. It’s all ridiculous of course, a blind act of charity sprung from some silly woman’s misguided and misdirected affection. While the workers patch holes and replace crumbling pieces, the interloper sweeps and scrubs, eager to do her part.

Evening falls, and Ann prepares to head into town to pick up dinner.

“The guy on the phone said they don’t deliver to this address for some reason,” she says. “Weird.”

“Why don’t I go,” offers Nick. “I’ve got the truck. There’s more room.”

“Okay,” she reluctantly agrees. “But I’m still buying, clear?”

“Crystal.” There’s a faint air of nervousness wafting from him, I think. I suspect he’s been hoping for an opportunity to get away from me for a while.

The rest of the crew seem mostly recovered from their brief brush with the supernatural. I intend to fix that.

I start by flickering the lights, another classic. Someone gets up stammering about checking the fuse box in the basement, but as he and Nick each go for the doors I slam them both at once, creating a nice echoing effect that rings all through the house.

“Try writing that off as the wind.”

“I got a better idea,” another someone offers up. “How about we all go into town for dinner? It’ll be nice to get out of— it’ll be nice to get out, let the dust settle here.”

“Come on, Ann,” Nick gestures. “We can swing by the bar after. It’ll be fun.”

She hesitates, a strange look on her face, and takes a step back. “You all go ahead. I’m not that hungry.”

“Ann.” He speaks more sternly now, looking something like an older brother with a neat wrinkle of worry taking up residence on his brow. “Come on.”

“I’m fine here, and you’re being silly. If you don’t believe me, bring me back something after you eat and you’ll see that I’m perfectly safe here alone.”

“But you’re not alone,” I whisper, for nobody’s benefit but my own. “What would you say, if you knew. If you really knew.”

“Besides, I’ve already spent the night here once. If something were going to happen, why didn’t it?” She pulls a smirk, puts her hands on her hips. “Maybe it’s just you guys my house doesn’t like.”

Nick huffs an almost-laugh and relents, not entirely satisfied but not looking to argue the point any longer. He tells her to call him right away if anything changes and then he leaves. The workers file out after him, the last of them gingerly shutting the door behind him, so as not to anger me.

“Why didn’t you go with them?” I ask her. My voice, such that it is, takes on a plaintive edge. Pitiful. I correct myself, refocus my aims. “You’ve had plenty of chances to run, and it’s only going to get worse from here on out. You know that, right? You’ve got to know this isn’t just some twenty-four-hour fever. You can’t get rid of me. It’s my house.”

She starts up the stairs. I follow. I have no other choice.

“Are you really this dense? How can you ignore the signs? How can you believe there’s anything here worth salvaging?"

She walks into the bathroom and stares into the cracked mirror.

“What are you doing now?” I complain. “Looking for answers? I couldn’t give them to you if I had them. Or are you just admiring your pretty reflection?” I stroke the mirror’s surface. “Must be nice, to be young and lively. If you leave now, you could have years and years of perfect ignorance, uninterrupted by those pesky reminders of death. You could have a life, and you’re wasting it.”

She touches her fingertips to the cool glass with a mystic look in her dark eyes.

“Mina?” she whispers.

“My name isn’t Mina.”

Or maybe it is. Might as well be, for all I know. I think I must’ve had a name once. Surely there was a word, a simple sound, some collection of syllables that meant I see you. Surely there had been someone to speak it and make it real in their mouth. But how should I know? And if such a person did exist, what does it matter now? I’m not a person anymore, I’m a thing that happened, a thing that’s happening still. I’m a box built to hold my history, filled up to the rafters with hurt and resentment. That’s as close as I get to living. If I could move independent of my dour walls like her, I think, I wouldn’t be wasting my time moldering in the darkness.

Ann shakes her head. “Silly. I’m being silly,” she tells herself. Looking up at the dim light fixed above her she adds, “I should probably check on that fuse box after all.”

She goes back down and opens the door to the basement. She flicks the switch on the wall a few times but that bulb's been long neglected. Even those who swear up and down they don’t fear the fables or superstition became suddenly shy when it comes to probing the deepest depths of this old house. Ann turns, presumably to seek out a flashlight, when her heel catches on one of the repairmen’s screws that had rolled loose. It’s not even my fault this time, technically.

Like some kind of morbid slapstick, her foot shoots out from under her and she stumbles backwards towards the open basement door. It’s a long drop that awaits her, followed by a fast end if she’s lucky. And I know well enough by now that she isn’t.

Without thinking, I push her. Instead of that foresworn drop down the basement stairs, Ann finds herself tripping backwards into the wall instead. She rights herself, takes in a sharp breath, and then releases it with a sigh. She’s dazed but unharmed. I find myself mirroring her relief.

She smiles. “Thank you,” she says.

Then she closes the door and walks away.

That has never happened to me before. Normally, to manifest, to have any direct impact on the physical world, I have to summon up a great deal of anger. That isn’t too hard for me; I’ve been angry a long time. But in that moment, I hadn’t been angry. I think I’d been afraid. For her safety? No, of course not. More likely I’d been worried she would leave behind a ghost and I’d be stuck with her invading my personal space for eternity. Still, I’d never… never done anything like that before. I’d never helped somebody. I suppose I’d assumed it couldn’t be done, even if I wanted to. Ghosts, spirits, malevolent spectral entities or whatever you like to call it, that’s not what we're for. That wasn’t what I did, until I did it.

I become aware of singing coming from the kitchen. The fool is never not singing or humming or whistling something. I know music; it’s not as if I’m totally uncultured. While I have no lungs nor lips to make sound, sometimes on a stormy night the wind whistles through my walls, each creak and moan playing for me the orchestra of slow degradation I’ve come to know well.

This is not that. This is… I don’t know what to do with this. I don’t know the words. Is it too late, I wonder. I can’t. I’m not ready. Oh but if you can give me time, stranger, I think I want to learn your song too.

[sdottkrames]

It’s Quiet Uptown

@comfortember Prompt 4: Anxiety

Summary:  Peter goes to his first big Avenger meeting and is a bit of an anxious boi. Wanda to the rescue.

Notes: I just really want more fics with Peter and all the avengers, ya know? Like, they fill my soul with happiness. So here, have an anxious Peter (sorry, baby) and then some comfort in the form of sweet Wanda. I feel like she deserves a little love. 

Also, this is totally inspired by the fact that Elizabeth Olsen lets Chris Evans draw on her hand when he gets anxious, which is the cutest thing 💜

Read it on AO3: Here

Peter was surprised. When he’d been told the team was meeting at the compound, he hadn’t expected to be included in that. He’d barely been made an avenger before he’d crumbled to dust with half of the rest of the world, so could you blame him? But they’d requested he come and meet the whole team. He’d fought alongside most of them in the big battle but never officially met them, and, honestly, Peter was already starstruck.

“Hey, Happy,” he chirped, sliding into the back of the van, bouncing his leg excitedly.

Happy nodded in the rearview mirror, but Peter was used to the “forehead of security” and his gruff nature, so he chatted happily to fill the silence.

“So Mr. Harrington said that I did really well last year in Academic Decathlon, and he wants to talk about making me co captain with MJ this year. MJ didn’t seem opposed. Actually, I think she’s starting to like me. Like, like-like me, you know? I keep finding her looking at me. I’m not entirely sure, though. Ned says that she might just be being MJ, but I kinda get the sense that it’s more.”

Happy smirked slightly in the front seat, and Peter was grateful that the older man didn’t mind his rambling. After rehashing everything going on in his life, Peter turned on some music, and was surprised to see Happy tapping the steering wheel in time with the beat.

They made it to the compound, and Peter happily accepted Tony’s welcome hug.

“How was the drive, Spider-ling,” the older man asked, slinging a casual arm around Peter’s shoulder. Peter leaned into it as they walked down the hallway, Happy trailing behind them.

“Great! Happy actually tapped along to my music, Mr. Stark. I think he’s coming around,” Peter said, shooting the man behind him a grin. He received rolled eyes in response.

Tony chuckled. “I’m sure he is, kid. It took me literal years to get him to warm up to Back in Black.”

“Oh, I love Led Zeppelin,” Peter said, and Tony screeched to a halt.

“You did not just say that.”

Peter just grinned and started walking backwards. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. C’mon. Keep up old man. We can’t be late for my first big Avengers meeting!”

Tony looked at Happy and shook his head. “I swear he’s going to send me to an early grave.”

“Sure, boss. Out of everything that kid does, confusing AC/DC and Led Zeppelin is what will do you in.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “You know, you have a point.”

“Come on, you slow pokes,” Peter called, halfway down the hall. 

He had no trouble finding the room. It’s large, opaque glass doors are embossed with the Avengers logo, making it obvious. As he stared at those heavy glass doors, the enormity of what was happening hit him, and his excitement slowly faded. He was going to meet Natasha Romanoff. Bucky Barnes. Stever Rogers. Bruce Banner. Thor! Everyone.

His fears pinned him to the spot, and he was unable to move to open the door.

“Kid, you okay?” Tony asked, coming up behind him.

Peter swallowed. “Uh...yeah. Yeah.” In slow motion, as if from outside himself, he watched his hand reach to take the handles and open the door. His mouth felt like sandpaper, and his mind was a jumbled mess.

Would they call on him to say something?  Was he supposed to contribute ideas? Oh, gosh, what if he said something stupid? 

The strange, out-of-body experience continued as Peter walked to a seat with his name in front of it on a neat white card. It was all the way at the end of the table with some newer Avengers, and his heart started to race even more as he realized Tony would be clear at the opposite end of the table.

Peter looked down as he sat and closed his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control. He could do this. No need to freak out. He was sitting next to Falcon. Falcon was nice. And the girl on the other side- Wanda, he remembered- was nice. It’s fine. He’s fine.

He looked up, but the sight of Bruce Banner talking to Steve Rogers made it clear very quickly he was very much not fine, and he looked back down so fast his neck cracked.

“Hey,” an accented voice called. He looked over to meet Wanda’s eyes. “First meeting?” she asked. Peter nodded, not trusting his voice. “You’re going to be just fine. I was terrified the first time I met them all, too. Well, met them for real.” 

Peter remembered hearing about her powers. She must have had a lot of reason to be scared to meet them all after manipulating their brains. Some of the tightness in his chest loosened at her words and he smiled at her gratefully. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Peter, right?” 

“Yeah. Wanda?”

She smiled. “Yes.” She thought for a moment before reaching into a purse at her feet to pull out a blue, ballpoint pen and offering it to Peter. “Here. I promise I’m not using my powers, but I can tell without them when a brain is being too loud. If it gets too much, go ahead and doodle on my hand. It helps. Steve let me do it my first few meetings, and I still bring the pen just in case.”

Their conversation ended abruptly as Nick Fury stood up, but Peter took the pen and smiled gratefully again. He would have made it through the meeting just fine, feeling much better after his small conversation with Wanda. But then he was asked to introduce himself.

He stood up, hugging his arms to himself, a nervous habit he’s had since childhood. “Hi, I’m Peter. Uh, Spiderman, but nobody else knows that besides you guys and my Aunt. I’m 17, I live in Queens.” He hesitated, before deciding that was probably all they needed to hear. “It’s nice to meet you all,” he said, and awkwardly gave a small wave before sitting down.

He was breathing fast again, overthinking every word that he said, his brain getting “too loud,” as Wanda put it. He jumped slightly as her hand slid into his and she nodded to the pen.

Grateful for the distraction, he uncapped the pen and started drawing. He was no artist, but he could draw basic geometric shapes and soon he was so engrossed in the motion of the pen and ink swishing across her skin that his brain is quiet enough for him to actually pay attention to the rest of the meeting. The hour passed quickly as he drew circles and squares and infinity signs (which he saw somewhere was good for anxiety). He didn’t take his eyes off the smooth motion of the pen until he heard chairs squeak as everybody stood up.

“Thank you,” he murmured to Wanda, putting as much gratitude as he could into his voice as he handed her the pen.

She smiled at him. “Any time. It wasn’t a bother at all. If you ever need it again, I’ll be right here.”

He nodded and started to turn around, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at her again. “Welcome to the team,” she said, and Peter couldn’t help but smile at her.

As everyone gathered around to greet him, he forgot what he was so nervous about in the first place. Stars in his eyes replaced the butterflies in his stomach as he shook hands with his childhood heroes. 

“Peter, Stark has told me much about you!” Thor boomed, and easily scooped the young boy up in a bear hug which nearly gave Peter a heart attack because Thor (Thor!) is hugging him.

“Okay, Let the kid breathe,” Steve said, shaking Peter’s hand and dispelling any lingering doubts about hard feelings due to Germany.

“N-nice to meet you both, Mr. Rogers, Mr. Thor, sirs,” Peter stammered out. 

“Alright, Underoos,” Tony cut in, saving Peter from embarrassing himself. “Have you met everyone? You ready to head to the lab for a couple hours before we get you home?”

Peter nodded and bid goodbye to everyone (Thor promising to come spend more time with him at some point) before he and Tony walked together down the hall to the elevator.

“Everyone was really nice. Thanks for inviting me.”

“You're welcome. I was worried you were gonna bolt at first,” Tony teased.

“I was really nervous,” Peter admitted, looking down. “But Wanda helped.”

“Yeah, she’s a good kid. Like you. I knew you two would get along!”

Peter blushed, pleased at the praise. The elevator opened, and as they headed down to the labs, a thought occurred to him.

“Did you put me and Wanda together on purpose?”

Tony shrugged. “Like I said, I thought she might help you be less nervous around all those stuffy superheroes. I’m glad it worked.”

And Peter’s heart filled with gratitude. His brain is blissfully quiet, he made a new friend, met his childhood heroes, and got to spend time with his Mentor.

Maybe being an Avenger really wouldn’t be that bad!

[gaymortagokat]

Sleepover at Camp Jupiter

Read the whole collection here

Reyna's place was quiet. Aurum and Argentum laid in front of the couch curled up together. While their owner sat on the couch reading The Great Gatsby while her girlfriend sat on her lap. A pastel blanket laid over them. It was an addition from Drew. Since her and Reyna began dating Drew would add or recommend things to make Reyna's place more homey. 

They've been together for a little over a year now. Drew graduated  from high school a week ago and will be attending UC Berkeley to study psychology and art. Reyna noticed how great Drew is at helping people believe in themselves and suggested she do something with that. And Drew ran with that idea deciding to become an art therapist, though she isn't sure if she wants to specialize in child psychology and development yet. 

Drew pointed at a line of text. "Remember this, Reyna."

"Why? It's just a billboard?"

Drew turned to look at her girlfriend. "It's important if it was written in here. And it's a symbol of something mortals can't see. The eyes are judgmental like Hera."

Reyna nodded. "Juno isn't all that bad. What do you mean it's a symbol of something mortals can't see?"

"It's kind of like love. You can't physically see it. You can see it in things but you can't see it in things."

"Unless you've met Venus."

"Hmm. I guess so. But speaking of Venus she's a god. We can't see her true form just like mortals can't see the person in the billboard."

"So the billboard is a god judging American's."

"Capital 'g', Reyna. Fitzgerald is probably talking about the Christian god."

"And this Christian god doesn't like what Americans are doing."

"Yes that's what many readers believe."

"Does everything in this book have dual meanings?"

"No. I've found that only things that show up throughout or are highly detailed compared to others are symbols. Like if a detail is emphasized."

"So is the car a symbol?"

"Not sure. I know the billboard is because a teacher told me it was. Let's continue reading." 

Reyna nodded and looked back at the book. 

They continued reading occasionally pausing for discussion. Drew was the one who began these reading sessions. Reyna loved reading. It was how she grasped a better understanding of English. She has a high reading level despite reading mostly comic books. Because of this Drew decided to introduce Reyna to some classics and had created at least a page long list of literature she added to every few weeks. 

They started with names Reyna knew like Plato and Homer. They read The Allegory of the Cave and pieces of The Odyssey where Reyna told her Circe no longer turns men into pigs but animals occasionally less smelly and easier to manage, Guinea pigs. She Also told her that Percy made a very cute Guinea pig. Drew wished Reyna had the opportunity to take a picture.

A knock on the door interrupted their quiet weekend. Reyna's dogs ears perked up and their ruby eyes turned towards the door watching to see if the person behind the door was a threat.

A key slipped into the lock and Reyna groaned. "I should have never given her a key."

"Who?"

"Your sister."

"Pretend we didn't notice?"

"Of course." 

They returned to their book as the door opened. College aged Piper, Jason, Leo, Percy, and Annabeth walked in carrying bags for an impromptu sleepover (even though Percy and Annabeth live in New Rome and see Reyna nearly every day) with Nico.

"Why does Nick always describe Gatsby that way?"

"Cuz he's gay."

"Isn't the author straight?"

"Was anyone straight in the roaring 20's? When swing music existed and women wore more revealing clothing, smoked in public, cut their hair, and everyone lived in excess?"

Piper coughed.

Reyna looked up at her friends (except Leo he was still on thin ice). Percy looked like he just rolled out of bed sporting a five o' clock shadow while his girlfriend looked like she had been up for hours. Piper was as gorgeous as always wearing skinny jeans, a loose shirt, light sweater and vans. Jason looked like Annabeth, but he had done a better job at brushing his hair (his straight hair is easier to manage than Annabeth's curls), and much to Reyna's annoyance, Jason still had the rivet in his hair from the bullet Percy's brother fired at him. Jason had kept his hair trimmed like that for two years now. Reyna, Piper, Drew, and Nico were tempted to shave his hair while he slept. Nico wore the jacket Will gave him on their first Christmas together, and his mirrored sunglasses hung from the pocket. He had gotten a haircut. The sides of his hair did not touch his ears, but the top that he left long would in a few weeks. Leo looked exactly the same as he did two years ago with scorch marks on his fingers and arms and small bandages one a few of his fingers.

"Hey, what's up?"

"I wanna say that they made me come."

Reyna smiled at her little brother. 

"Oh come on Nico. It's not like we had to force you." Jason said putting his arm around the fifteen year old who now reached his eyes. 

"Friday night sleepover." Piper said. "We always have them."

"One, no we don't. It's more like twice a month. Two shouldn't most of you be at some college party? Three it's Wednesday."

"So we're a little early." She answered sitting on the only empty spot on the couch. 

"Percy and I did all our homework that's due tomorrow early." Annabeth added taking a seat at Piper's feet with Percy close behind. She petted Aurum behind the ear muttering something about them being a good dog.

Nico sat on the other side of Reyna's dogs while Jason and Leo sat in front of him. Well, Leo sat closer to Percy than Nico. Reyna's dogs weren't his biggest fans and had no problems making it obvious to him.

"What piece of literature do you have Reyna reading this time, Drew?" Jason asked, adjusting his glasses like they would help him see the page better.

"Gatsby. We're almost done with this page. Do you mind being quiet for a few more minutes." Drew didn't wait for an answer; she turned all her attention to the small book.

Leo struggled to stay quiet. He kept opening his mouth to say something then quickly close it. He distracted himself the best he could by planning out the most fun night ever. First some of the greatest movies ever paired with the best snacks and drinks. Did Reyna even have the best snacks?

Leo didn't stay on that thought long. As soon as he heard the book close he spoke. "Okay! What movie does everyone want to watch." He dug through his bag. "I've got 50 First Dates, The Nanny Diaries, Love Actually-"

"Leo, I love you. But I don't think anyone wants to watch romcoms."

"What do you have in mind, Pipes?"

"Horror, action, thriller."

"Horror sounds fun." Nico stated.

"As long as no one throws their popcorn on me I'm good." Drew added. 

"Reyna, got any horror movies?"

"The Sixth Sense, maybe Friday the 13th."

After a bit of arguing they settled on The Sixth Sense. The boys minus Nico prepared snacks. Nico and Annabeth made the hardwood floor more comfortable by adding a quilt Reyna had buried in a closet and laying out the blankets everyone brought. 

Snacks were finished and everyone ended up with their own container. Nico with popcorn and chocolate chips, Jason with popcorn and m&m's, Annabeth with popcorn and butter fingers, Percy with blue m&m's, Piper with sour gummy bears, and Reyna and Drew sharing Jelly Beans and sour straws. Drew had made Piper make sure Aurum and Argentum had a plate with a few dog treats and marshmallows, and Nico had tossed a blanket over them.

As the movie played Leo Jason Percy and occasionally Annabeth yelled at the characters on screen. Piper occasionally stated behind the scenes facts. 

During a particularly tense moment, Piper, realizing her hands were cold, poked her sister's foot that was barely out of the blanket making her yelp and Piper roar with laughter.

"Gods-damn it Piper!"

Piper waited a few minutes then did it again. Then a third time. 

"Piper." Reyna warned.

"Alright, alright." She scooted closer to the arm of the couch and waited. 

She looked over at Reyna and Drew. Drew was watching the movie one hand on the bowl of candy and the other on Reyna's, but Reyna on the other hand was watching Piper. She shook her head slowly with a slight glare. Drew, feeling Reyna move, looked up at Reyna then at Piper mimicking the Puerto Rican's glare.

Piper glared back then looked away pretending to barf. They were almost disgustingly cute.

A few minutes later she scared Drew again this time receiving a harsh kick.

"Ow! What was that for?" Piper yelped, rubbing her arm. 

"I didn't kick you that hard." 

"You totally did, Reyna."

Not even Reyna kicking her was enough to stop her. She tried one more time to scare Drew. This time she was unsuccessful.

"Hermanito." Reyna said. 

And suddenly Piper was freezing then she found herself on the floor. She looked at the couch where she was once sitting and found Nico curled up with the darkness partially swirling around him. Actually, the dark in the entire room seemed to be moving as if Nico was making the room appear as dark as it did when she was afraid of it.

Piper settled in her new spot petting the nearest dog. 

It was towards the end of the second movie when Drew tried scaring Piper. It worked only once. Piper nearly jumped out of her seat surprising Jason and Percy who were way more afraid of the movie than they let on.

Beginning of the third movie was when Reyna began to mess with Piper. She used a bit of magic she picked up from Circe and tried to make it feel like a spider was walking on her. It worked for a few moments then Piper figured it out and began ignoring the sensation. 

Reyna switched tactics. She poked Aurum with her foot who pressed their cold nose into Piper's side hitting her ticklish spot. 

Piper pressed her palm against the dog's nose and turned it's head away. "I know that was you, Reyna."

"I don't control their every move."

"Oh please. They would do whatever you asked."

Reyna opened her mouth to respond when Drew silenced her. "Ssshhhh. We're at the good part."

Reyna kissed her head and returned to watching the comedy. The older boys insisted on one happy movie to negate the scary before bed.

By the time the movie watching session ended Reyna was sitting between her girlfriend and her best friend/little brother. And both of them were nearly asleep on her shoulders.

"Nico, it's time for bed."

Nico nodded, sitting up and gathering his blanket. A second later he disappeared into the shadows and probably into Reyna's guest room / home office. 

"Nico gone?"

"Sí, Amor. It's time for bed." Reyna told her standing up. She offered Drew her hand.

Her girlfriend shook her head. "Too tired. Carry me?"

Reyna smiled while rolling her eyes. "Alright." She picked up Drew with ease (something that made Jason and especially Percy jealous) and walked to her room. Aurum and Argentum followed, nudging the door open as they got closer. 

Reyna set Drew down carefully. It wasn't the right moment to drop her on the bed. They were both too tired for the game that would begin if she did.

Reyna moved to the door and locked it. 

"What kind of pajamas do you want today?" She asked, grabbing her own.

"I'm good."

Reyna turned around and saw her gorgeous girlfriend sitting on her bed shirtless. Today had been a stay at home no bra necessary day. Reyna looked down briefly and felt her cheeks grow warm. She put her pajamas away and joined Drew on the bed. 

Drew kissed Reyna tugging on the edges of her shirt. “You don’t need this.”

Reyna let her pull her band tee (courtesy of Thalia) over her head. “What do you want to do?”

Drew ignored her and tugged at her shorts. “You don’t need these.”

Reyna slipped them off and tossed them aside. “What do you want to do?”

Drew rested against Reyna. “I’m too tired to want to do anything, but I’m too awake to sleep.”

Reyna turned off the lamp and rested her hand on Drew’s stomach. The pair laid down, and Reyna kissed Drew’s shoulder. “Thank you, for reading with me today.”

“No problem, Amore. I love reading. Especially with you.”

“What would you like to do tomorrow?”

“Walk on the beach?”

“Alright.” Reyna kissed Drew’s shoulder once more. “Want to go swimming?”

“Sounds nice.” Drew said quietly. “Hey, why did Annabeth say she and Percy had finished their homework early? Isn’t it summer?”

“It is. Annabeth convinced Percy to take a few summer classes so their schedule can be lighter during the year and they can graduate a bit early.”

“What is Percy studying again?”

“He started with Marine biology, but he realized it was going to be a lot of science. I think he’s doing physical therapy now and keeping Marine Biology as a minor.”

“Physical therapy?”

“Yeah. Annabeth showed him a video of a pool being used as part of someone’s therapy. He’s been interested ever since. That and he can heal using water.”

“I guess pool is not a bad thing to smell like.”

"Neither is the beach."

"Think we can leave everyone else out?"

"Maybe every one but Nico and Will."

"Will isn't here."

"For now. Nico will probably go get him to avoid being a third wheel."

"Double dates are fun."

"Glad you think so."

Reyna kissed Drew's shoulder blade and pulled her closer. She breathed in her scent noticing Drew's perfume and sweat. Reyna settled down more and closed her eyes and fell asleep. 

As soon as Drew trusted Reyna wouldn't wake up at the slightest movement she changed positions to face her gorgeous girlfriend. She also moved Reyna's arm so she wouldn't be laying on it. Reyna often let her sleep on her arm only to later wake up because the limb had become painfully asleep. Then she settled down draping an arm across Reyna's ribs. Her fingers traced an old injury. She didn't know the story behind the scar but trusted one day Reyna would tell her.

She spent the next few minutes trying to relax enough to fall asleep. She loved snuggling with her girlfriend, but said girl was always a furnace. Don't get her wrong, she felt incredibly lucky to have someone as amazing as Reyna. She would have never expected to be this happy a year ago, and yet here she was laying with the hottest girl ever. 

She adjusted the blanket so her feet would stick out and settled back down.

She was nearly asleep when a whimper startled her awake. She lifted her head and spotted the source. Two sets of glowing ruby eyes were watching her. "Come on." She whispered.

Given permission the two fully grown greyhounds jumped on the queen bed. The siblings spun around a several times (accidently hitting each other a few times) and plopped down laying on the teens' feet.

The cold metal was too cold for comfort; Drew pulled her feet out from under the dog and instead lowered the blanket uncovering her shoulders. Drew relaxed once more and fell asleep.

[arabrot]

Who Do You Love by John Doran

Who Do You Love?

We drove 5,000 miles of barbed wire.

You’d think that by travelling that distance around a country you could get the measure of it. Especially if the country was only 361 miles from top to bottom and even less from East to West. You’d be thinking reasonably but not accurately.

Despite journeying the equivalent of one fifth of the circumference of the entire Earth in 31 days, all we got to see was the road itself. England endless. What we experienced was just a percentage of a splodge, a smidge of a blotch on the coastal fringe of Europe that deserved neither the sobriquet Great, nor the title United. How did such a small area of land contain such extravagant lengths of major road? In the same way that a human body could house a tapeworm 33 metres long. Probably not comfortably but hopefully not fatally either. Undoubtedly, in May 2015 - general election month - England had beauty to spare: it’s just that none of it was visible from the motorway.

We met on the forecourt of a petrol station near an airport. Heat haze was already starting to rise from the tarmac. The Driver was dressed immaculately in a tight-fitting black suit, shades and wide-brimmed black hat. His concession to non-monochromatic decoration was silver chains carrying cocks and crosses. He looked like Asa Hawkes, the “blind” preacher from Flannery O’Connor’s Wise Blood - but much thinner. He tipped the brim of his hat hello. This was not his stage hat but his everyday hat. His stage hat, the kind of prairie Stetson featured in the opening scene of Holy Mountain was massive and kept in the kind of box that suggested it was an essential part of a drum kit. It had its own carefully allotted slot in the back of the van with the tons of amplifiers, speaker cabinets, guitars, synthesizers, boxes of books, suitcases full of clothes and bags and bags of oranges we were taking with us. There was only one way to fit all of this stuff into the vehicle, and packing it correctly was like 3-D Tetris. All it took was one giant, impractical hat in the wrong place and then everything had to be taken out again and reloaded in the correct position.

He was the colour of milk, which made the angry red scars up either side of his neck all the more vivid. He looked like the missing link between human being and some future race of Lovecraftian eel-men who would be able to breathe via gills under water.

As well as me and the Driver, there was the Passenger. She looked more like she had stepped straight from the set of Bladerunner than a Jodorowsky or John Huston movie. This was to be their last tour as boyfriend and girlfriend as they were headed straight to a deconsecrated church in rural Sweden to get married as soon as the trip ended. I was merely a temporary guest in their world. A road voyeur with a month long pass.

Within minutes of setting off we hit the M25 we became enmeshed in May Day traffic. I realised that most of the month was going to be spent looking at slow moving traffic on motorways.

But just as driving to Brighton was slow and painful, leaving it the next day was a dream. On the motorway, time stretched and contracted simultaneously in temporal doppler effect. The days seemed longer but time blistered, popped and broke apart pleasantly as the brain switched down a few gears into a near pure experiential mode. There was little to worry about. All I could do was count the pylons and pretend I had a flamethrower to aim at UKIP billboards and hoardings; to luxuriate in motorway sign typography and listen to Maggot Brain as loud as it would go. Miles Davis’ Agharta was the soundtrack to us speeding out of the south up the M1 towards the Rainy City. Al Foster’s ringing, open hi-hat was our fuel. And then it was nothing but John Coltrane, Electric Wizard and NOMEANSNO until we reached our destination. It started raining the second we hit Stoke. And then before long we were on the Mancunian Way heading for Piccadilly in torrential rain, parking the van under a tangle of flyovers. When I planned this jaunt it was a thing of beauty. I took an AA road map and unfolded it until it covered half the floor space in my tiny living room. I took a sheet of stickers from my son’s Thomas The Tank Engine magazine and created a spiral of towns and cities, first round the edges near the coast and then spiraling in toward the centre. Our proposed journey looked like an occult temporal and spatial message only discernable from the god perspective. What I planned was a perfect thing. But after you plan your perfect thing what happens is this: promoters start phoning you up or emailing you. ‘We’ve double booked you with a Stereophonics tribute act’; ‘There’s actually a bar mitzvah on that day’; ‘It’s Record Store Day.’ And then the perfect thing falls to pieces. By the time we hit the road the perfect thing looked like that terrifying film of a spider on LSD trying to spin a web. And there was only one thing worse than a spider on LSD trying to spin a web and that was a spider on caffeine trying to spin a web.

We stopped for several coffees en route to Sunderland the next day. The weather was beautiful. Fields of golden rape seed glowed under a blue sky. But I gave up counting the UKIP billboards. There were just too many. The purple pound signs zipped past in a blur. We’d been on the road for five days and I hadn’t seen a single sign for Labour. It was almost a relief when we passed a huge hoarding in an arable field next to a broken tractor which proclaimed: “Prepare to meet your Lord!” We pulled in soon after to stretch our legs in front of a petrol station that shared a forecourt with a sex shop wrapped in a large tarpaulin hoarding, proclaiming: “Under new management!” Next door was a garden centre flying a row of ten confederate flags and two Union Jacks. There was a knackered and rusty jet stream caravan serving up plastic cups of filter coffee.

It became clear early on that the Travelodge was our friend. Every Travelodge the Driver, the Passenger and I shared was identical. A family room. One double bed, one fold out couch bed, minimal decoration, very interesting mass produced art, scant furniture, tea making facilities and a portable telly, often chained to the wall. The Travelodge may have had less furniture in it than the average bail hostel and may sometimes have smelled like a suburban pet shop from 1984 but it was totally fine as we were low ranking touring musicians and writers, not visiting dignitaries from Saudi Arabia.

After Leeds, our Travelodge was situated in a motorway retail park so the following morning we walked just a few hundred yards to the Toby Carvery for breakfast. Pushing open the double swing doors we were confronted by a man in stained chef’s whites, with hair pushed under a light blue plastic turban crowning a jowly and crimson face. He was methodically and noisily applying a large cleaver to a foot long cylindrical sharpening steel with a schnick-schnick sound.

“Hello!” said the Driver cheerfully. “Are you Toby?”

The chef looked up slowly and a pendulous and translucent bead of sweat swayed under his nose. His eyes were like drill holes in gammon. Bruised udders of flesh were hanging below each of his nicotine-stained ocular orbs. He was possibly the most hungover man I had ever seen. He jawed away silently, his eyes flickering dully with rage as he started straightening up. The BPM of metal on metal increased. The three of us circled round him gingerly and headed rapidly for the breakfast counter past tables rammed full of people who looked like they were about to die. I had never seen so many morbidly obese people in one place at one time. It was like God’s waiting room with unlimited fried egg.

Oh England, you are sick.

It was only £5 per head and you could eat as much as you wanted but the choice was only bacon, sausages, roast potatoes, black pudding, fried egg, fried bread, beans and mushrooms. The thrill of the open road. Unlimited roast potatoes and bacon for breakfast.

(We spent just one night at the supposedly more upmarket Premier Inn, and it was relatively more luxurious but due to its incomprehensible automated reception machine, it took us an hour and a long conversation with two angry Premier Inn employees to gain access to our room. “Getting into this hotel was like the opening scene from a new episode of Black Mirror”, said the Driver, a recent convert to the show. “There’s nothing like waking up in some shitty English town, before eating some shitty English breakfast before driving slowly down some shitty English motorway for 12 hours before loading into some shitty English venue and playing a shitty gig to ten people before going to some shitty Travelodge just to watch a really well made English TV series which explains to you exactly why everything is so fucked”, he told me gleefully.)

Any hotel room was actually very much like home as long as you had a laptop, a handful of Nick Cave CDs, some Right Guard and a copy of Threads on DVD, which happened to be the exact contents of my overnight hotel bag.

Waking up in another identical Travelodge on another identical Motorway retail park the next day I realised finally that this was literally the worst place for a writer to be during general election month. Nowhere had wifi that worked. It was like being in a bubble of ignorance for 31 days. We had to choose these parks to minimise the chances of the splitter van getting stolen with all of our gear inside it. Every Travelodge we stayed in was essentially the same, surrounded by a handful of other outlets - a Toby Carvery or a Harvester or, if you were really unlucky, both of them. Then maybe also a Costa, a Boots and an Esso petrol station as well. They were all accessible from a motorway roundabout that wasn’t really near anything other than either an airport, a prison or an industrial estate. A vague hangover from reading JG Ballard as a schoolboy led me to believe that there would be some kind of mind-expanding nourishment to be had from this aspect of the venture but these motorway retail parks were all identical. They were the most co-opted and least free spaces of all.

After breakfast, outside, sitting on a wall drinking a cup of tea in the sunshine, I looked intently at a semicircle of rooks surrounding a single bird of their own kind. They were slowly advancing in toward it. The bird in the middle was stock still and not moving. It didn’t look like a friendly encounter. The Driver and the Passenger came out and joined me. The parliament were just about to attack the accused in order to peck it to death but just as the corvine jury bore down, they were disturbed by a loud noise from above. The Red Arrows flew over the Travelodge in formation causing them to scatter  It felt almost as if the Driver existed in a bubble of weird, uncanny, apocalyptic and esoteric events that moved with him wherever he roved. But it was also as if he barely noticed any of them. I stood pointing at the sky.

“Yes, yes” he snapped irritably as if he was sick of seeing this kind of thing. “Let’s get in the van and get off otherwise we won’t get to Digbeth in time.”

That night I dreamt that the solid iron core of the Earth was about to slough us all off until the planet stood raw and bleeding in space, just roiling magma with no skin to contain it. The utter indignity of being born between waves, the scions of a pusillanimous age we were all about to be cast into the void with the filthy scab of a country we called England. A flat and unmagical land. A depressing and tawdry place. When I opened my eyes Toby was stood in the corner of the room, sharpening his cleaver, schnick, schnick, schnick, schnick. Empty eye sockets carved out of rancid, fly-blown gammon.  

“We have to stop eating lunch at the Harvester!” I sprang out of my fold out bed and shouted at the Driver and the Passenger, waking them from their sleep. “The full rack of ribs is fucking killing me!”

Fuck the Harvester. Fuck Toby Carvery. All of the clothes that were hanging off me on May 1 were now snug and it was only May 12. My ears were ringing with the premonition of some future blue cheese dressing related pulmonary event.

It was easy to see how ruinous life on the road could be, even when you didn’t drink or do drugs. I felt sorry for younger bands who felt they had to go out partying every night after shows. After a couple of weeks it must end up hellish.

The road to Hull was paved with UKIP signs. Only Necrosis by Cadaver played at ear disrespecting volumes kept us sane. It was dark as we drove into town and ghosts lined Ferensway waiting to greet me. The cinema where I’d had my first date in town, the pair of us just turned 18 - watching Shirley Valentine no less, saying, “Imagine being that old” about Pauline Collins and Bernard Hill - was now a bingo hall. The war memorial that I regularly drank sherry in front of on a bench. The Welly nightclub where I saw a punter swan dive off a balcony and go headfirst through the corner of a formica table. When they took him out on a stretcher there was a blanket pulled up over his face. And then down past my old house on De Grey Street and into the car park of the Adelphi. And then the ghosts waved us back out of town.

The drive to Great Yarmouth was gruelling and 13-hours long because of traffic - we got stuck behind no less than three serious road accidents. Bodies strewn across baking tarmac. Bloodied travellers weeping in incomprehension at the hard shoulder. Slow moving the traffic might have been but at least we had plenty of long albums to listen to. Just like a mattress in a shared student house or the narrative flow of the Bayeux Tapestry - Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp A Butterfly sagged in the middle but it was very, very long, making it ideal for the van.

Eight hours later, after the show, we flew down the A47 unimpeded like we were clinging to a rocket, listening to Slayer albums sequentially at full volume, gabbling like a bunch of four-year-olds as we went. By the last day, I felt like I was about to die and constantly on the verge of tears. I didn’t want it to end. It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It was the worst of times. It was genuinely the worst of all times. And yet I’d crawl over broken glass to be able to do it all again right now.

You know, if you really want to get the measure of a country don’t drive round it. Take a train or walk. Maybe buy a bicycle or a skateboard or something.

We drove 5,000 miles of barbed wire and parked the splitter van by the roadside.

John Doran, Bangkok, Thailand, December 2017

[scarletgardensrpg]

LIVING ♦ FORTY-FIVE ♦ ASCENDANCY

NIKOLAAS VAN HOUTEN is Head of the Ascendancy—commonly addressed as De Dominee by Undead members—and was Senior Advisor to Agostina for the first two years of the House's inception before stepping down. He is also a founding member of the infamous Red Room, where the fatal PM-GRNT 197 drug was first conceived. For his unapologetic and public involvement in this project, Nikolaas remains a controversial figure, especially among the living. Although he possesses the rare and coveted gift of resurrection, he avoids using his ability, preferring instead to work through Cecile.

BIOGRAPHY

tw: violent death, needles

This is how it starts. A bullet splits a woman's head in two outside Patisserie Chez Maitre Pierre, and her shopping bags fall to the ground, tipping over as children's books and clothing scatter across the pavement. She drops the cake, too, and it smears against the plastic casing, blood red velvet on black chocolate. The paramedics come and go, taking the body with them, but her bags are abandoned in the street, kicked aside by passing strangers. She lives in an apartment in Riquier, a stone's throw from Nice. They send someone, who pounds twice on the door with a closed fist and only hesitates for a moment when a boy answers, blonde and brown-eyed, not a day older than thirteen. He knows, because there had been thirteen birthday candles in Eva van Houten's coat pocket. Nikolaas, the man says, and it is not a question. He looks just like his mother. Something's happened. And just like that, the serene, open look on the boy's face begins to change.

- ❀ -

He was conceived against the counsel of every Moulin Rouge whore with a say in the matter. Pretty Mila had struck Eva across the face, red nails leaving lines, hard enough that she saw stars. Do you think he is your husband? She was on the brink of tears, but her expression bore nothing but cold rage. He will have you killed for the information you have stolen. If not him, his wife, de Dame. She is Queen of the Penoze. She will spare neither you or de klootzak. And Eva, in knowing this and more, had silently slipped out of her heels and wiped off her makeup. She placed a delicate hand to her stomach, which would begin to swell soon. By then, she'd be long gone from this place. Mila began to sob finally, but Eva felt warm. She felt sure. That spring, in a hospital in Rome, Nikolaas came into the world with a wail, no larger than a doll and twice as pretty. He was a dangerous, miraculous child, the love crime of a common whore and a lord of the underworld; a fugitive on the run the moment he was born. And loved, still. One year hiding in Italy, two in Germany, another six months in Thailand. Three and a half in the safehouse in Nice, hopefully longer. Eva ran the coordinates in her head over and over. She sang them softly to the tune of nursery rhymes, lulling her son to sleep.

Nikolaas and Eva; Eva and Nikolaas. His world began with her hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake, and ended with the sound of her laughter on the evening balcony. He had never felt embarrassed for it, had never felt compelled to earn the doggish approval of neighborhood boys by treating her poorly, as they treated their own mothers. All other things, after all, were temporary: the apartments they lived in, the cities and schools they rotated through every six months, the men who came and went; some kind, some cruel, none permanent. The kind ones, he ignored. The cruel ones, he broke his knuckles on their teeth. Eva always said: You deserve a father. Nikolaas always replied: I have you. His mother, beautiful as she was, carried with her a sadness Nikolaas could not understand. She was lonely, but enforced their rootless existence year and after. She slept fitfully and jumped at loud noises. He knew better than to ask. Once, he had seen the puckered line that ran up along her abdomen, too high up to be a cesarean scar—as if someone had vivisected her and clumsily sewn her back up. He would grow up to look just like her: high cheekbones, straight nose, sun-silver hair. He acquired her love of books and silence, her intimate charisma, her academic wit. And the things he did not inherit from her—that needle of unfeeling darkness when he ought to have felt affection or love for someone other than Eva, that cruel thread of pleasure when he hit a classmate—he pushed down dutifully, deep where it would not be found. And so it festered within him, a slow night-falling in his soul while he won awards and played tennis and made Honor Roll, cloying and uncomfortable—growing larger and larger, until, after Eva died, it became unbearable at last. Something's happened, the police officer said. Nikolaas had found the papers the night before. They'd fought the morning she left. When they returned her coat to him, the wool was still spattered with blood and bits of dried cake. She had gone out and gotten the gifts as an apology.

After: an apartment of ghosts, the incessant whir of press outlets, the city of Nice at his back for the next ten years. Teachers and students alike either pitied him or adored him—usually both at once. Fatherless, motherless, and with nothing to his name but thirteen candles and a ruined coat, he became something of a tragic hero. Poor thing, so went the lamentation. Another victim of the Penoze. Another helpless child unjustly bereaved. Of course, he was also an adept actor: warm to the touch, willing to pose for photographers and sit in studios, bringing journalists to tears while the funds and donations rolled in like tidewater. And all the while, the first tendrils of a gestating obsession gripped him: something to ease the agony of waking in the middle of the night to the sound of a skull splitting, sometimes Eva's and sometimes his, the smell of rotten cake, the nonsensical pulse of a ghost scar on his abdomen, sheet after sheet of stolen papers—papers that had costed Eva her life. His mother had not been killed. She'd been hunted. Death, death, death. It was all he thought about. At Johns Hopkins, at Harvard. Gripping Agostina's hand for the first time in an empty classroom. How to outrun it. How to survive it. In Palestrina at midnight, listening to the sound of Thalia's velvet voice, saying, We never wanted you, just your drug mule of a mother. And still, death. He thought about the shape of it as he squeezed the syringe into Cecile's neck, then his own, the pain immediate. It lingered in the air as he stood in her and Evander's empty cell, the metal bars bent, his creatures gone to set fire to the world. And when he returned, at last, to bury the ruins of Amsterdam beneath a new order, he thought of Death once more. How to conquer it. How to master it.

CONNECTIONS

AGOSTINA – MIRROR, MIRROR.  She was no lamb. He had seen it in her the moment they shook hands and exchanged names and vices: the deceivingly delicate curve of her steady mouth, the lush dark of her infinite gaze, the edged grace with which she commanded lecture halls and courtrooms—and later, entire cities. In Agostina, Nikolaas found a place to put down his dreams. She was someone to share with, when he had not thought sharing was possible. She was intelligent, unafraid, his. For who else but him had she bared her true face to? Who else but him was privy to her spider-web mind, had indulged in the dark waters of their shared ambitions? Life after life. Deathless death. Together, they had destroyed a world, and raised it once more from the ashes. Whatever strange, bleeding thing bloomed between them in the wake of those rituals, it was intimate. Rare. Pure. Nikolaas considers their falling out over No. 200 and subsequent separation his biggest failure. Up until then, she had remained his unconstestable ally—an unquestioned friend and irreplaceable life partner. Almost naively, he had not thought it possible for the two fo them to disagree. But in the end, Agostina had shaken her head and refused to venture deeper, go darker. He does not disagree, that Agostina looks radiant under the sun: a leader among lambs, herding her flock toward salvation. But deep down, he is sure she would look even lovelier among the wolves. At his side. Nikolaas may have been the one to walk away, but it was Agostina who refused to follow. 

CECILE – LITTLE MONSTER. If there were a God, Cecile would have bitten his wrist. If God were a beast, she would have had his throat torn out and his body tossed at Nikolaas' feet—and they would have both understood it to be a gift. Fifteen years ago, when she entered the Red Room as a test subject, she did so with all the flagrant, unwavering arrogance of a true American. They wound up developed a strange friendship over the years: steady Doctor and willing patient, two dark things who could never quite look away each time something died in a cage. She had egged him on and dragged him into deeper, more depraved depths than either could imagine on their own—daring him to find a place she could not follow him to. You aren't going to escape? He had asked, if only to watch her face twist in amusement. This is my sanctuary, she purred. Out there is where I'm shackled like a dog. So he had killed her, and freed her, and damned her, and saved her. She had done the same for him. When the worst of the chemicals subsided, she awoke: Undead and terrible, his first and only creation. Somehow, he knew there would be no one else after her. They are tied together forever, by flesh and blood—and perhaps this is why Cecile will always find him, again and again: shivering together on the laboratory floor, in Warsaw at the end of the world, in Amsterdam at the start of it. When they had agreed to perform the act, two syringes in Nikolaas' coat pocket, he had said to her: Don't be afraid. Every transformation requires the death of its predecessor. To this, he still remembers the way she had tipped her head back and laughed. That rich, terrifying sound. Then, Doctor, I am a woman who has died a hundred times over.  

LUANA & MAURICE – COME ASTRAY, LITTLE LAMBS. He likes them. They hate him, of course, but their hatred is grown from a dishonest seed—they hate him for a crime he did not commit, and see only a monster among monsters when they look to him. The irony is not lost on Nikolaas: that the royal twins, upon their return, learn immediately to eat from the hand that ruined them and snarl at the one that saved them. He sees Agostina's bloody signature written all across this devil's deal. It's a clever political play on her part, Nikolaas can admit; something that will guarentee the twins' eventual alliance to her, provided the truth of the family massacre never comes out. Regardless, Nikolaas is not concerned; just as all blooms grow toward the sun, the Prince and Princess, being clever children, will grope their way through the darkness and eventually come out with the horrible, funny truth. He feels no need to personally reveal this crucial information to them either, as the discovery will be sure to do greater damage if they can find out on their own. As such, he will only gently nudge them closer, disincline them to partake in blind obedience, and encourage them to see the ugly light. While Luana remains steadfast in her condemnation of the Undead, Nikolaas sees something more hopeful in the boy, Maurice—his resolve wavering in the wake of Dimitri's most hospital gestures, his curiosity rising to defeaning volumes with every night he spends racing with Nikolaas' garden of monsters.  

OPEN ♦ FC: MADS MIKKELSEN

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of Marvel: Week of August 21st, 2019

Best of this Week: Tony Stark: Iron Man #15 (Legacy #615) - Dan Slott, Jim Zub, Juanan Ramirez, Francesco Manna, Edgar Delgado and Joe Caramagna

Tony Stark may not be the man he says he is anymore.

Since the landmark 600th issue of Iron Man, Tony Stark hasn’t been entirely sure that he is actually himself and not just a strange collection of nanobots and machines strung together in the form of the billionaire tech wizard. After the horrible incident surrounding eScape, Tony Stark’s virtual reality world, leads to the deaths of a few people and millions or more in property damage, Tony has to take the stand and address what exactly happened. 

He’s grilled pretty thoroughly on what an AI is and how much was his responsibility vs. how much can be blamed on Controller, the supervillain who hacked into the supposedly secure network and caused all of this damage. Overseeing the hearing is a surprising character from another mechanical superheroes past. Senator Miles Brickman, a character that originally appeared as something of an anti-machine/anti-AI character in the pages of Machine Man’s original series, it livid and irate at Tony Stark. Showing a bit of prejudice in his questioning, he asks has Tony Stark ever made any changes to his body using technology, then follows by asking “Can you prove that you’re not some form of artificial intelligence?”

Tony initially tries to dance around the question, but upon being reminded that he’s under oath, reveals that it is actually quite possible as his body was put back together cell by cell while he was in his coma. This shocks everyone, from Rhodey to Bethany Cabe, his head of security at Stark Unlimited, and even his brother Arno Stark who is watching the hearing from his office at Baintronics, the rival technology company.

AI Tony calls for a recess after a few snarky lines as we cut to Vision and Wonder Man arriving at Avengers mansion, thinking they’ve been called to assist in Tony’s hearing. Immediately some red flags might want to be set off with the characters involved, especially when Jarvis lets them in and soon after betrays them with a large piece of metal embedded in the back of his head with a familiar design. 

Things start to heat up as Brickman produces the Tony Stark AI that was used by Riri Williams while Tony was in a coma and asks does this fully functioning, autonomous copy have legal rights and responsibilities. What makes me so uncomfortable about this scene is that it plays on the fear of the unknown.

Brickman has tried to have Machine Man destroyed in the past and even knowing that Tony Stark has saved the world in the past, he’s not willing to consider that he still has right once it’s admitted that he may not be fully human anymore. In a way it mirrors some of our own discussions as it pertains to AI and whether or not we’ll allow them autonomy once they become advanced enough for it. There’s a whole discussion for sex robots that no one is qute ready for just yet.

The Wasp, Janet van Dyne, flies through a robot protest on her way to meet Tony for lunch and catches him talking to Tony AI. Tony AI agrees to be loaded into the Iron Man suit and they all fly off when suddenly they’re met with a gross amalgamation of Vision and Wonder Man fused together. Ramirez’s art makes him look so horrifying with only half of Wonder Man’s luxurious hair and cracking skin that’s as red as Vision’s. He rushes at Tony in a rage and promises to rip the human and AI halves of him apart, displaying an anger that neither character has ever presented. 

In the middle of their fight, Jarvis appears and zaps Janet, who was knocked out of the fight during the initial rush. He places her in his pocket and leaves thereafter. Tony and WonderVision continue their fight, destroying the robot protestors in the process. Tony realizes that they only way to stop them is to use a localized EMP which will also kill Tony AI. The technological Tony isn’t fazed and just tells Tony to kiss Jan a bunch and feel vaguely bad about it later.

Unfortunately, this leaves Tony in the middle of the carnage. He’s surrounded by broken robots, likely to take the blame for all of it and realizes that Jocasta was right, he only sees everything as data. He breathes a small sigh that he’s still alive and that WonderVision didn’t take Janet… until he can’t find her. We then cut to the surprising return of The Avengers greatest enemy as his new gambit to destroy Tony Stark and spark a new machine age is in full effect.

What I liked most about this issue is that Tony’s mistakes really catch up to him in a bad way. He’s always managed to skate by the skin of his teeth when his machines have gone haywire. While Brickman was being an asshole for the trial, he made a good point in that we don’t quite know if we can trust this Tony. Given what we as the audience know thus far, he’s falling hard. Almost going back to the drink, questioning his own existence, not even having the trust of the brother that’s been by his side since his appearance in the mid 2000s (in this universe).

And that ending, finally seeing the seeds of what’s been sewn for months now starting to take form, is always fun. I had wondered what happened to this character since Infinity Wars (2018) and I can’t wait to see where exactly this story is going to go and what the repercussions of that event will be. I also can’t wait to see how exactly he’ll scar Tony and his extended family now that he’s returned. High recommend!

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

Things were looking up for Otto Octavius. He had found a nice woman and was slowly falling in love, he had mended fences with Anna-Maria in a way. After the events of War of the Realms, he was a respected and loved hero in San Francisco and then it all came crashing down.

Runner Up: The Superior Spider-Man #10 (Legacy #43) - Christos Gage, Mike Hawthorne, Wade von Grawbadger, Jordie Bellaire and Clayton Cowles

After taking the lovely Emma on a swing through the city, The Spider-Man of San Francisco goes on to visit the child he saved all the way back in issue #4 and help his new adoptive parents get custody of him. These small moments of warmness are a far cry from the maniacal nature that we were once accustomed to from Octavius. Bellaire colors most these scenes in a nice, warm orange. Giving us this feeling of joy and some happiness for Otto… at least until he’s discussing having a child with Emma and she alerts him to the news report that asks if the SF Spider-Man is really Otto Octavius. 

Things start to spiral even further as Spider-Man is interviewed and dances around the question and the Brothers Grimm acknowledge that he hired them for some temp work if they went straight, alluding to the first arc of the book. Otto is furious, Anna-Maria gives him snark and Emma tells him that he needs to face things head on, getting in front of it all. He can prove that he’s changed. Unfortunately, Anna-Maria brings up the kid as an example of someone who he’s helped and he swings to the apartment to find the foster parents angry and the child sad that he lied. Normally Otto wouldn't think twice about lying to someone or omitting information, but looking into that child's eyes as he began to cry, Otto reveals that he lied because he wanted the kid to like him and they hug. 

Soon after, Otto is called back to Horizon University where he is known as Professor Tolliver. Max Modell is waiting for him as he's received an email telling him that Tolliver is actually Otto Octavius. Surprisingly to Otto, Max already knew. Max Modell may act like a goof, but he's not considered one of the brightest minds in Marvel for no reason. He ran a DNA test to confirm soon after his emergence and gave "Tolliver" a chance to prove himself a changed man and given that he has, he's been trying to help clear his name. 

With Max's security footage and his own enhanced suit, Otto is able to determine that it was actually Spiders-Man that sent all of the incriminating data to everyone. Once Spiders-Man realizes he's caught, the thousands of spiders that make up his form reconstitute until Ock defeats him and compresses the former Peter Parker's consciousness into one Spider-Body. After some pushing, Spiders-Man reveals that it was Norman Osborn's idea. This Norman Osborn, however, is from another dimension where he's the Spider Totem and his main enemy was a Green Goblin Peter Parker, if I remember right. 

Spiders-Man also tells Otto that Norman is in his own dimension, safe from harm. During the events of Spider-Geddon, the Web of Fate was destroyed, making dimensional travel much harder for Spider people. Octavius hits a wall until Anna-Maria comes out that she's saved a bit of Terrax's energy from the first arc in the Living Brain robot, in case Otto ever reverted. This makes him sink even lower, but ultimately he understands and tries to use the power to make a portal...only Norman planned for this and over loads the machine, causing it to destroy the building almost killing everyone inside if not for Otto. 

Otto manages to save Max and Anna-Maria, but is swiftly defeated and left for dead by Norman who was there the entire time. When Otto asks why Norman is doing this, he responds in the most Norman Osborn way possible by saying, "You insulted me."

Just when Otto Octavius was finding his place in the world as a hero, forces mostly belong his control have made their move in an effort to derail him. Otto finally seems happy, even helping out a young child that he absolutely has no obligation to and starting a budding new relationship with an older woman that's just as smart as he. Things were going well, he even got a key to the city for crying out loud!

But, as fate befalls all Spiders, his terrible actions in the past are coming back to haunt him. Who's to say that Mephisto doesn't have a little bit of a hand in this as well? We can only hope things turn out well for Otto in the end, but not before Norman makes things much, much worse.

[glasskaleidoscopes]

Chapter 6 - Sunday, November 1st, 2009

I feel like this chapter is so relatable, and has quite a bit of fluff. Let me know what you think :) 

Carolyn woke with a start when her alarm went off. She was acutely aware of how badly she had to pee, so she flung off the comforter. To her horror, there was a large red spot around her pelvis. Carolyn’s eyes grew and she groaned when she realized that she had started her period. She was the last of her friends to start, as both Sallie and Vera both had already had their periods before they met each other. Carolyn was kind of hoping she would never get her period, since she had heard horror stories from Vera and Sallie about how painful cramps were and how annoying it was when their pads leaked. She had also seen firsthand how irritable the girls could be when they were on their periods. Carolyn stood up away from the mess and wrapped her comforter around her waist. Sam had slightly stirred at her alarm going off, but was already snoring again. She quietly opened the door and walked down the hall to Vera’s door. She knew Vera was still sleeping, but she needed her help. She pounded on the door, hoping to wake her best friend. She heard a groan from Vera, but no sign of her getting out of bed.

“Vera get up. I need your help.” Carolyn shout-whispered through the door, hoping not to call any attention to herself from the other Brudowski siblings. Thankfully Carolyn was usually the first of the children up, as Janet usually had to drag the rest of the high schoolers out of bed so they could get to school on time. Carolyn pounded on the door once more and then heard Vera get out of bed.

“What?” Vera asked sleepily, then she looked really confused as she noticed the comforter wrapped around Carolyn’s waist.

Carolyn leaned in closer to Vera and hissed, “I think I started my period.” Vera’s eyes grew wide, and now she understood why the comforter was around Carolyn’s waist. 

“Finally! After you shower, make sure you put a pad in your underwear.” Vera explained with a smirk across her face. 

“Where are they?” Carolyn asked, looking a little nervous. 

“They’re underneath the sink in the girl’s bathroom.” The house had three bathrooms on the second floor, one was designated for the boys, one was designated for the girls, and the third was a small half-bath that was used if the other two bathrooms were occupied. Carolyn nodded and went back to her bedroom to get her stuff to shower. She was hoping no one had heard their conversation, as Vera was not one to be quiet with sensitive conversations. 

Forty five minutes later, the five high schoolers somehow all ended up in the van with enough time to get to school on time. Carolyn usually sat in the middle since she was the smallest of the bunch, while the twins sat in front, with Andrew driving, and Jared and Vera on either side of her. Carolyn sat with her head down looking at her hands. She could not deal with Adrian’s ever-present eyes stealing glances at her through then rear view mirror.

Things between Carolyn and Adrian were just as weird as they were a month ago at Carolyn’s birthday party. Carolyn constantly felt Adrian’s kind eyes on her whenever they were in the same room. Carolyn was actually kind of glad that there was literally no privacy in the Brudowski home, because she was sure she would die if she and Adrian ended up in the same room alone again. But that didn’t stop Adrian from trying to make contact. Every so often, Carolyn would be going upstairs while Adrian was going down, and he would smile at her and say, “you look nice today.” Or when the hoard of kids were all shuffling out the door for Sunday church, Adrian would hold the door open for everyone and he would put his hand on Carolyn’s shoulder as she walked out the door. Even though each of these gestures were small, every time Carolyn felt Adrian’s hand on her, the heat from his hand would linger for hours, and she had to take deep breaths to calm herself down. 

Not only were these little gestures and encounters completely encompassing Carolyn’s thoughts, but she was also completely overwhelmed with learning how to live with three teenage boys. Back in her old apartment, Sam would wander around in his pajamas all the time, but he was only 10 years old and clearly still a boy. It was very different when two 17 year olds and a 16 year old would hang around the house in their pajamas, which usually only consisted of a pair of pajama pants or boxers. When she and Sam had first moved in, most of the boys wore white t-shirts, but those had been discarded about two weeks after they had moved in. 

Carolyn was frustrated because she knew no one understood her predicament. Vera had grown up with these boys, so it didn’t phase her in the least. Sallie had kind of experienced this, but most of the time when Sallie slept over, the t-shirts would come back on, or the boys would sleep in so late you wouldn’t even see them until Sallie’s parents had picked her up the next morning, or they would come out of their bedrooms already dressed in their Sunday best. Sallie has never seen these boys stumble downstairs on a random Tuesday morning in only a pair of boxers, with their hair still mussed up from sleep, and dried drool on their chin. 

Sallie was very enthralled with the ‘secret details of living with teenage boys’, but it was much easier to hear the details than to live with them. These teenage boys were tall and thin, and they had a lot of muscular definition not seen in her 10 year old brother. This was all on top of the fact that one of the 17 year-olds had beautiful brown eyes and brown hair, and he actually seemed very interested in Carolyn. She didn’t know what to do.

These thoughts and dilemmas were what Carolyn thought about most of the time during classes. It was a good thing she did homework with Sallie and Vera, because she often had no idea what was said during class. 

She met her two friends at their usual round cafeteria table for lunch. They were chatting about their classes and the current drama going around in the school when Vera changes the subject, “Carolyn, what’s going on with Michael? You haven’t said anything about him in forever.” Vera usually was not one to bring up Carolyn’s long-term crush, as she did not want to listen to her drone on and on about him for the rest of the period. However, Carolyn had said nothing about him since before her dad died. Vera expected him to be absent from Carolyn’s mind for a while, but Carolyn was starting to act close to normal, and she expected the obsession to come back in full force.

“Oh? Umm, yeah, I think I’m over him.” Carolyn was completely caught off guard. She had completely stopped obsessing over Michael ever since her birthday party, and wasn’t really sure how to explain to Vera why. Sallie shot Carolyn a worried look, as she of course knew exactly why Michael was no longer in Carolyn’s thoughts.

“What do you mean, over him? You obsessed about him for over a year!” Vera asked incredulously. She couldn’t believe her boy-crazy friend would just drop her crush, especially since there hadn’t been a new boy that captured her friend’s attention. So she thought.

“I guess I just realized that you were right. He barely knows I exist, so why waste my time with him, right?” Carolyn explained, hoping this would appease her suspicious friend.

This response made Vera smile, “I knew you would come around eventually. Glad to see you’re joining the rest of the world.” Carolyn ignored this slightly mean comment, because at least her friend seemed willing to drop the conversation. 

A few days later, on a Wednesday evening, Vera and Carolyn were working on homework at the dining room table when Carolyn received a text. 

-Hey will you come down to the basement?

Carolyn looked down at her phone and frowned, she didn’t recognize this number. She replied, who is this?

A few moments later her phone buzzed, it’s Adrian.

Carolyn looked at her phone and her heart started thumping. She responded, how did you get my number?

A few beats, then, my mom gave all of us your number when you and Sam moved in.

“Who are you texting?” Vera interrupted.

Carolyn slightly panicked, “Oh just Sallie. She’s complaining about how her parents wouldn’t let her come over today.” What Carolyn had said was not wrong, Sallie’s parents had had enough of Sallie spending every afternoon at the Brudowski home, especially now that Carolyn was not actively grieving. 

“Ugh I know, it’s so dumb. But text back in our group text, I feel so left out.” Vera agreed. Carolyn nodded her head, quickly texted Sallie, filling her in with Carolyn’s white lie, then texted back into their group. 

Carolyn felt her phone buzz again, so will you come down to the basement? I want to talk to you. Carolyn took a deep breath. “I’m going to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” 

Vera nodded, this was also not out of the realm of possibilities. Carolyn’s first period had not spared her from any of the annoyances of menstruating. She had to change her pad every couple of hours, and was fully relying on the awesome power of ibuprofen to stave off her cramps. Not only that, but she knew her mood could swing wildly at the drop of a hat. She had almost yelled at Janet, and could burst out into tears after one upsetting comment. She wished she could control this, but when she was lashing out at the people she loved, it was almost like she was watching a stranger.

Carolyn walked down the basement stairs carefully. She rarely visited this room because it was an unfinished basement that really creeped her out. It was about 10 degrees cooler than the rest of the house, and contained mainly a couple couches, a big t.v., a few gaming consoles, and an old desk. This room largely belonged to Andrew and Adrian, because they didn’t care about killing the occasional spider, and they liked how the room was cooler than the rest of the house. Plus, they enjoyed the relative privacy of the room. They spent most evenings in the basement working on their homework and playing video games. When Carolyn reached the bottom of the staircase, she only saw one twin, and the room felt impossibly quiet. 

Adrian turned around as he heard Carolyn come down the stairs. His eyes shone bright in the dim basement light. He stood up and walked over to Carolyn, with a small smile across his face.

“Hey. Sorry I know you’re probably doing homework, but I have to tell you something.” Carolyn’s heart leaped when her eyes met his.

“Where’s Andrew?” Carolyn asked, wondering why he was alone.

“He’s in his room. His girlfriend broke up with him after school today.” Adrian explained easily.

“Oh, I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend.” Carolyn was surprised she hadn’t heard anything about her. Really she was surprised she hadn’t heard her sneaking into Andrew’s room at night.

“They had only been dating for a month, but Andrew really liked her. I’m glad they’re broken up, I always thought that she was way too vapid for Andrew.” Adrian babbled on. Carolyn shook her head and looked down at her feet.

“Anyways.” Adrian started. He took in a big breath, “I want you to know that I think you’re beautiful. I’ve thought so ever since I met you.” Adrian tried to lock eyes to Carolyn. He wrapped his large hand around Carolyn’s arm, and she looked up into his eyes.

“Wh-, What?” Carolyn’s mind was imploding, she had no idea how to react to this older boy’s praise. She had never thought of herself as beautiful, and she was pretty sure no one had ever told her she was either.

“Carolyn, I like you.” Adrian looked steadily into Carolyn’s eyes, but he uttered these words much less confidently than he had previously sounded. Carolyn took a step back and Adrian’s arm fell down to his side. She couldn’t move any further back without backing up into the staircase. Carolyn’s mood changed from confused to angry.

“Why are you telling me this? What do you want to do about it?” Carolyn couldn’t contain the hurt in her voice. She had thought a million times about dating Adrian, but she knew it absolutely could never happen.

“I’m sorry. I can’t help how I feel.” Adrian quietly said, now he was the one looking down at the floor. Carolyn was taken aback at how vulnerable Adrian was. He normally towered over Carolyn easily, with his muscular frame dwarfing her slight frame. But now, with this sudden confession, he seemed even smaller than her. Carolyn wanted to soften, but she still felt so angry.

“But it’s not like we could even date. If Vera were to find out, she absolutely would hate me. And just imagine if your mom found out. She definitely would kick Sam and I out.” Carolyn explained, a little less harsh than before. 

“Vera would not hate you. She would probably be weirded out for a little, but she’d get over it. And my mom would never kick you guys out.” Adrian gained a little more of his normal confidence, “but yeah, my mom could never know.” Carolyn looked into Adrian’s eyes, she smiled, but then shook her head.

“Yeah, it could never happen. Plus you’re a senior.” Carolyn’s expression turned stony. She never understood why Adrian was so persistent, or why he was interested in her in the first place. She was almost 3 years younger, and she was far from womanly. She wore the smallest bra size they had in the store, and her butt hardly made an impression in her jeans. She still had no idea how to wear makeup, so she didn’t even try. 

“That doesn’t matter. Are you saying that if you didn’t live here, you would be willing to give us a chance?” Adrian’s look became hopeful, albeit still a little timid. 

“There is no us to give a chance. Plus it doesn’t matter because I don’t have anywhere else to go.” Carolyn could feel her face heating up, and she knew she couldn’t keep talking or else she would start crying. Damn those hormones.

Adrian sighed and grabbed Carolyn’s hand, “Carolyn, I would never, ever ask you to leave. I know that this is an impossible situation. I just want you to know my feelings. You completely capture my attention as soon as you enter a room. I think you are stunning.”

Carolyn’s head was spinning, first she was beautiful, and now she’s stunning? She took a moment before she responded, “I don’t know what to say to that. I’ve never thought of myself that way. Plus I’ve never had a boyfriend, I’ve never even kissed anyone. And before you put your hand on mine, no boy and ever really touched me beyond pushing me forward.” Carolyn was right. All this attention from Adrian was a little overwhelming, and she really didn’t know how to react. She was so hesitant to even let herself have real feelings for Adrian, because he was older and more mature than she was. He had experience with experienced girls, and she could never stand up to that. Plus, he made her nervous; one look from him could reduce Carolyn to a puddle. Adrian stirred up feelings beyond her previous crushes, and she could barely keep track of them. 

Adrian smiled at what Carolyn said, “well, everyone has to start somewhere. But I won’t push you to do anything you don’t want to.” Adrian dipped his head down so that he could look more into Carolyn’s eyes. 

“Thanks, but I’ve got to go, I’ve been gone way too long and Vera is probably suspicious already.” Carolyn smiled as Adrian squeezed her hand. Carolyn jogged back up the stairs and found Vera buried in Spanish homework. Carolyn caught up to where Vera was in her Spanish homework, then glazed through the rest of the evening’s work. A couple hours later, Vera and Carolyn retired to their respective bedrooms. Sam was already asleep when Carolyn climbed into her bed. She felt like her head was so full. She couldn’t believe the conversation she had with Adrian. She was thinking that she would need to go over to Sallie’s after school tomorrow to first tell her everything that happened, but also to get a break from Adrian. 

Carolyn still couldn’t believe that this 17 year old boy, almost man, thought she was beautiful. That he had feelings for her ever since they met. It didn’t make sense. The boys Sallie talked about seemed so much easier to deal with. You would like a boy, then befriend him until he noticed you enough to develop his own feelings. Instead, Adrian had sidelined Carolyn with heavy feelings that had never been returned to her. She was so used to liking a guy without him ever noticing her. It felt so much safer, even though it was painful to wish so much that the guy would like you back. 

The way Adrian talked, she didn’t know what to do. She obviously was infatuated with him, what 15 year old girl wouldn’t be? She had always thought Adrian was cute, and she always thought he was cuter than his twin, Andrew. That’s also because Andrew’s personality was so much tougher than Adrian’s. The twins spent so much time together, but they had key differences. Andrew swung from girl to girl, he was always out on some date, and recently Carolyn was clued into the noise Vera talked about, which mostly came from Andrew’s room. Adrian, on the other hand, was one of the most gentle people Carolyn had ever met. 

But Carolyn wasn’t sure how to feel beyond infatuation. She had no romantic experience with boys. She didn’t even know how to flirt. Sallie had tried to teach Carolyn how to flirt, and she saw Sallie flirting with boys all the time, but it all felt so awkward any time she tried. She knew Sallie had also never been kissed, but she had had a few ‘boyfriends’ in middle school, where they would hold hands and break up in 2 weeks. Vera had kissed a few boys before, but never really dated anyone, and she insisted that the kisses were nothing special. Carolyn fell into fitful dreams while she was analyzing the evening’s events.

[dr-tardis-who]

Angel of Music

Harrison Osterfield x Reader

Summary: Reader is in a band, they decide to take on a few gigs while on holiday in London. While playing at a pub they meet Harrison and Tom.

A/N: Songs I used as inspo are Umbrella by All Time Low, Last of the real ones by Fall Out Boy

Warnings: Swearing, some awkwardness (I am Australian I use Aussie lingo)

You were excited to say the least, it may have just been a bar but you were able to perform in front of people that have never heard of you before. The feeling brought a smile to your face as you fixed your favourite outfit. It made you feel beautiful, dramatic and above all sexy. You finished your make up looking yourself over in the mirror of your best friends house that you were staying in while, you were all having a break in little old London. One of your best mates was also visiting his family, so you thought that having a group holiday together would be fun.

“Ready to kill it?” Your best friend Storm asks grabbing his base guitar along with your electric guitar, you turn to him with a bright smile.

“Hell yeah.’’ You reply following him out to the car and van, that you had hired while you were staying. Getting into the passenger seat with your other friends Alex, DJ and Andy, who is driving. He starts the car, the engine revving to life you can feel the butterflies of anticipation flutter through your body. As you all head toward the venue.

*************

Tom, Harrison, Harry and Jacob were all planning a night out as Tom had a four week break. So he decided to come home for that time to see his family and show Jacob the sights.

“I heard there was a band playing at that bar you’ve been wanting to go to.’’ Sam says to Harry, as he observes the boys get ready fluttering around Tom’s apartment.

“Really, which band?” Harry questions knowing that there were a few bands that always played at the bar, and he had seen them at different pubs already.

“I haven’t heard of them before. They’re new.’’ Sam answers scrolling through his phone. “All I know is that they’re called the Rebel Runaways.’’ He adds.

“The name’s good.’’ Jacob says overhearing the conversation, placing his jacket on ready to go. Now they were just waiting for Tom and Harrison. Harrison walked into the lounge five minutes later, it really didn’t take him long to get ready, as for Tom on the other hand the boys knew they would be waiting a while.

“What time were they starting?” Harry asks his twin,

“About nine I think.’’ He answers. Harry glances at the clock on the stove it was eight thirty, they still had time. He hoped.

Finally after two and half beers later Tom was ready and it was nearing eight fifty-five, Harrison was lucky enough to call an Uber, as Tom sauntered out.

“Well you took your time.’’ Sam states snickering even though he wasn’t going out, that didn’t stop him from teasing his older brother.

“Beauty takes time.’’ Tom replies dramatically flicking his head, while dusting off invisible fluff from his jacket. Harry just rolls at his eyes.

“Whatever let’s go.’’

*******************

You walk in with equipment in your hands, following your fellow band members through the already crowded bar. You feel a little awkward as you’re shorter than the average human, so you shuffle calling ‘excuse me’s’ and sorry’s’ to get to the stage at the back of the room. Most are nice enough letting you pass without issue, others offer a sleazy wink making you internally cringe. It was the only thing you hated when you did bar or pub gigs, the sleazy gross men just looking for a bit of fun, and preying on unsuspecting girls as yourself. You quickly shakes off the feeling when you make it to the stage, and start setting up everything you need with DJ as he knows what he’s doing and you’re one of the clumsiest people on the planet. The drum set is already set up, which you’re thankful for, as it was one less thing to set up, after all you only had an hour before you started you’re first set.

As you finished setting up the microphones and completed a sound check, you had ten minutes to spare. So Alex thought it would be good to have a pre-gig drink, and be able to relax a little. Of course you couldn’t say no.

**************

By the time Tom, Jacob, Harrison and Harry got to the bar they could hear the sound of a kick drum and electric guitar rifts filling their ears. In other words it was going off. They walk through the french doors to the lively scene of people drinking, laughing but above all dancing where they were standing. As strong female vocals echoed around the room.

“I’ll get the drinks.’’ Tom shouts over the noise, as he manoeuvred his way to the bar while the boys looked for a table or space. The only space available was a table just off the side of the stage, they had a great view of the band playing, three guys and a girl. Tom found them playing their beers on the table checking out the band members.

“They’re good.’’ Jacob comments bobbing his head along to the music. Stopping once the song ended.

“Cheers guys, let me introduce you to....Alex on drums.’’ Alex doing a little drum solo to show off his skills, “Storm on base guitar and vocals.’’ Storm plays a few chords, “Andy on Guitar.’’ Andy showing off some skills, “The lovely Y/n on electric guitar and vocals.’’ Y/n plays a few rifts getting hoots and howls from the crowd. “And I’m DJ on keyboard.’’ DJ announces getting claps from the crowd as they begin to go into the next song. The boys joining in on the clapping as the girl Y/n plays her guitar expertly, leaving both Tom and Harry quite impressed seeing as she looked quite young. Harrison on the other hand couldn’t help but rake his eyes over her form, as she played as if it were second nature, not worried about a thing. Her voice strong with a gravelly undertone.

“They’re really good.’’ Harry says sipping his drink, they all looked like they were having the time of their lives up on the stage. Once again their song ended and Y/n spoke the boys noticed her Australian accent immediately.

“Alright, now it’s time for one of my personal favourites.’’ She moves her fingers down the neck of her guitar as, Alex begins to drum.

‘You had my heart,

and we’ll never be worlds apart’ 

Tom’s head perks up as the lyrics as the others begin to chuckle a little at the choice of song. He chuckled too but was entranced by the band and their version that was more rock and less sexual. He begun to head bang to the song letting the alcohol that he had been consuming, consume him. Once they ended Tom clapped laughing.

A few other songs as DJ spoke up again.

“You’ve all been awesome, we’re going to finish up after this. But we’ll be back later.’’ With that he begun to play the piano as Y/n begun to sing it had been the first time she hadn’t played her guitar and could focus on her voice. In fact Harrison noticed she wasn’t playing her guitar at all through the entire song. She had taken the mic off the stand leaning on it instead, her voice was enthralling. Especially accompanied by the two male vocals.

‘I was once an only child of the universe’

‘And then I found you, and then I found you’

‘I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you, but not as much as I do’

‘Cause you’re the last of a dying breed, writing names on the wet concrete’

‘Cause you’re the last of the real ones’

It wasn’t until they were reaching the final bridge that Harrison had noticed Y/n had moved from the stage and was sitting at the bar microphone in hand. In the soft light her skin looked so smooth he wondered what it would be like to run his fingers over it. He was pulled out of his thoughts when the crowd parted for her to go back onto the twirling around in her little outfit, that made her look so innocent, yet so seductive. The band finished the song as the patrons of the bar whooped and clapped, it was something they had never seen. All too soon the group left the stage and Bon Jovi begun to play as background music, The four men noticed that the five band members were rather close by. Jacob couldn’t help himself being the social butterfly that he is, he approached the group.

“Hey you guys were amazing.’’ 

“Cheers.’’ DJ says with a wide smile his arm slung loosely over Y/n’s shoulders, she shrugs it off though.

“You guys want to join us?” Jacob asks with a smile,

“Sure why not.’’ Y/n says with an infectious smile, with a newly filled glass of (your favourite alcoholic drink) in her hand.

“I’m Jacob. And that’s Tom, Harry and Harrison.’’ Jacob says pointing to each of the boys with slightly surprised looks on their faces at how easily Jacob was talking to them.

“That’s how I know your face, you’re an actor.’’ Alex says to Tom quietly enough not to draw attention to them.

“Yeah, I’m Spider-Man.’’ Tom says with a chuckle.

“Surprised you’re not nerding out Y/n. You love Marvel.’’ Storm teasing nudging the girl playfully causing her to nudge him back.

“Yeah but I’m team Captain America, he was team Iron Man. So we can’t be friends.’’ Y/n says with a laugh and a shrug, taking a sip of her drink.

“Why Y/n we just met.’’ Tom jokes, placing a hand over his heart in faux offence.

“You were awesome by the way, how long have you been playing?” Harry asks,

“Awe, thank you. I’ve been playing guitar since I was seven.’’ Y/n answers.

“Seven?” Harrison asks speaking for the first time,

“Yeah Y/nn here is our little prodigy.’’ Andy teases.

“Oh ha-ha. We just met them, they won’t know you’re only teasing.’’ Y/n retorts leaning on the table.

“So this your first time across the pond?” Tom asks,

“Yeah. DJ and Storm have family here, so they thought it would fun if took the whole gang.’’ Y/n letting Storm embrace her for a side hug, the pair had been known to be affectionate towards each other, seeing as they have known each other the longest.

“How are you liking it so far?” Harrison asks, trying to be part of the conversation instead of staring like a idiot.

“I haven’t done much sight-seeing really. We hang out work on songs then I go to sleep ‘cause of jet lag.’’ Y/n admits with a light blush coating her cheeks as she glances at Harrison. She gives him a small smile while taking in his appearance, electric blue eyes, slightly tanned skin, dirty blonde hair styled perfectly. Needless to say she thought he was beautiful.

“Well we’ll have to change that, seeing as Jacob hasn’t seen anything either, how would you like us to be your tour guides?” Tom asks brightly. The petite girl looks to her friends, them nodding agreement liking the idea.

“Why not sounds fun.’’ And with that it was time for their second set.

**************

As you got ready for your second set DJ whispered in your ear.

“You think the blonde is cute, don’t you?” A light blush coats your cheeks as you stare up your best friend.

“I’m a humble admirer of pretty things.’’ You reply with ease as you tune up your guitar. 

****************

After the gig was over, you and your friends were packing up the equipment when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder, you turn your head to see the blonde boy with the amazing blue eyes-Harrison you think his name is.

“Hey what’s up?” You say with a shy smile, something about the way Harrison looked at you made you nervous, you could feel your cheeks heating up. 

“Hey, I was wondering if you and your friends wanted to hang out with my friends and me?” Harrison asks rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sure, why not.’’ You say with a smile, feeling a little bolder with the alcohol in your system.

“We’re all packed up.’’ DJ tells you.

“Great because we’ve just been invited out.’’ You reply

“Really, by who?” DJ asks smiling as you knew he was trying to be funny,

“By Harrison and his friends.’’ You answer. Harrison couldn’t help but chuckle a little as you were so much shorter than DJ as he’s about 6′8. DJ glances at Harrison for a moment a small amused smirk, forming on his face.

“Why not. Sounds fun. Andy is going to go home ‘cause he’s got to be up early tomorrow. But the rest of us will come out.’’ DJ says as Tom, Jacob and Harry approach the group, hearing the tail end of the conversation.

“So you managed to get them to join us?” Jacob asks smiling widely.

“Who’s joining who?” Storm asks,

“We’re going out, wanna join?” DJ asks,

“Is the earth round shit yeah.’’ Storm replies.

“I’ll just say bye to Andy first.’’ You say slipping outside to the see Andy loading up the last of the equipment into the car.

“I’ll see you tomorrow bub.’’ You say giving the tall man a hug.

“Have fun cuddle-cakes, but not too much ok.’’ Andy says before giving you a quick peck on the cheek before getting into the car and driving down the street.

“Ready to go love?” Harrison asks you leaning against the doorway.

“Yeah.’’ You reply with a wide smile.