#plumbing appreciation post | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kpopfanfictrash · 1 year ago

Text

The Horrible Un-Haunting of Elliot House

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Ghost!AU / Romance / Comedy (?)

Pairing: Seokjin / Reader (she/her)

Synopsis: Some houses are harder to sell than others but you, Y/N, are determined to find the (supposedly) haunted Elliot House a new owner. That is, until it's very real and very hot exceedingly well-dressed ghost decides to make himself known. If only you didn't find yourself enjoying the knowing.

Rating: PG-13 (kissing but nothing beyond that)

Word Count: 6,214

Author's Note: hope you enjoy this random Halloween "drabble"! This got oddly angsty? I suppose that happens with ghost love LOL

[ Cross-Posted to Wattpad ]

“Through here,” you say, leading the Gundersons through an arched door. “You’ll find the most adorable sunroom.”

The Gundersons both gasp, appropriately awed by the tall walls of windows. Each panel is topped with stained glass, casting colorful patterns across the checkered floor. Technically, the sunroom isn’t part of the original house – it was added in 1975 during a brief period the address was owned by a cult – but you rarely disclose this fact during tours. Most people don’t care which parts of the house are original, so long as they can say they bought a 19th century Tudor.

Not that you blame them. Most people (or at least, sane people) appreciate the romanticism of an old structure without actually wanting to live in one. Modern amenities are the top benefit of progress, after all. The government couldn’t pay you to live without modern heating, plumbing, or refrigeration.

“Margaret, did you see?” Arthur Gunderson, a slightly rotund lawyer, and husband of said Margaret, gestures emphatically. “I’ll be damned if this stained glass isn’t Tiffany! See there, see that stamp in the corner?”

“Good eye, sir!” you chirp, barely glancing up from your clipboard.

Truthfully, you aren’t sure whether the glass is authentic. The cult that installed could hardly be called profitable (they sold the house at a loss after less than ten years, although this likely had more to do with crimes committed on said property than their income, but you digress), so you’d be hard-pressed to believe they could afford real Tiffany.

If this is what convinces the Gundersons to buy though, you’re hardly a realtor to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Ticking a box in the upper right corner – sunroom – you look up. “Right, well. That’s most of the lower level.” Pivoting on your heel, you head towards the corridor. “If you two will follow me upstairs, we can –”

“What’s that?”

Steps slowing, you stare at the plaster wall. A moment passes, then two before you convince yourself to turn around. When you see where Arthur Gunderson points, a relieved breath leaves your lips.

“Oh, that?” Floorboards squeak as you cross the room, sounding almost like laughter. “That’s the cellar. I’d offer you a look but unfortunately, the staircase isn’t quite up to code. You’ll need someone to look at that ASAP if you buy.”

Hovering at the wooden door, you grasp its bronze knob and pull. Tugging the cord for the light, you briefly scan the stairs but spot nothing unusual. Mostly convinced, you dutifully step aside.

“Feel free to look,” you say brightly.

The Gundersons crowd the landing you vacated.

“Careful, honey,” Arthur warns, holding Margaret’s elbow. “These stairs are steep.”

Standing on tiptoe, Margaret peers beyond him into the basement gloom. It could be your imagination, but she almost seems disappointed. A few cobwebs and shadows line the staircase, but nothing more sinister.

Hiding a smile, you check the next box. Cellar. Sometimes, people request to see this house not because they’re interested in buying it, but for the thrill. Entering the haunted Elliot house and surviving will make a great tale to tell their friends over cocktails.

Lowering your clipboard, you glance upward. So far, everything has gone to plan, which is partly the problem. You must’ve shown this house thirty times and always, something has gone wrong by now. Before being assigned its realtor, you believed in the paranormal, but only in a theoretical way. Not because you’d witnessed anything spectral.

Your opinions since then have changed.

Turning sharply, you plaster a smile on your face. “Shall we?”

Stepping back, Margaret pulls wiry frames from her jacket pocket. “I must admit,” she says with an embarrassed laugh. “Based on what our last realtor said, I was expecting far worse from this property.”

Although your smile tightens, you nod. The other realtor had a point – Elliot house could be temperamental, at best. Downright petulant, at worst. You glare again at the ceiling.

“We get that a lot,” you say, ushering them down the hall. Best not to linger. “Whenever a house sits too long on the market, you know – people talk. Lots of rumors!”

“Oh, sure,” Arthur says, passing you with a chuckle. “We’re not superstitious, don’t worry.”

“Oh?” you say lightly, remaining behind. “That’s good to know. Now, if you head down the hall, you’ll reach the foyer. All the crown molding you pass is original. The house’s first owner and builder, Daniel Baker, was something of a craftsman. He –”

Abruptly, you cease talking and stare at the stairwell. Halfway down the steps, where before there was nothing, sits a perfectly ripe orange. Eyes narrowed, you stare at this a long beat before yanking the light cord down and shutting the door.

Glancing upward, you hiss, “Not today, I swear to – well, whatever hellish being you worship.”

The wind sounds almost like laughter, but you don’t stick around long enough to find out if that’s true. Shaking your head, you traipse down the front hall in search of the Gundersons. Luckily, they’re too busy taking pictures of the aforementioned crown molding to have noticed your absence.

“Shall we?” you say, gesturing at the front stairs.

Pocketing their phones, they begin their ascent. You wait at the bottom, giving them space to discuss the house. From personal experience, buyers tend to appreciate when you don’t hover.

Besides, the grand staircase is your favorite feature – equal parts artwork and functionality. From your place at its bottom, you admire the craftsmanship. Starting the climb, your fingertips skim whorls in the wood and for a second, you feel a phantom hand rest over yours.

Scowling darkly, you yank your palm away. Reaching the landing, you clutch at your clipboard tighter and walk forward.

“This way!” you say, practically shoving the Gundersons into the first bedroom.

While they ooh and ah about the bay windows, you tick another box on your spreadsheet. Master bedroom.

The second you’re done, the pen slips from your grasp and hovers in mid-air. It then turns, point-down, to scrawl something in the margin.

‘Master’ bedroom? Kiiind of racist, don’t you think?

Teeth gritted, you snatch your pen back. “I wasn’t the one who created the spreadsheet, okay?” you whisper. “And while, yes, I agree, and other realtors are moving away from that language, I don’t–”

“Pardon?” Arthur Gunderson peers, confused, over his shoulder.

Somewhat manic, you smile. “Oh, nothing,” you say, the words sounding high-pitched, even to you. “I was just reminding myself to show you the main bathroom. Beautiful claw-foot tub.”

“Oh. Sure,” says Arthur, returning to his wife.

Head whipping sideways, you glare at the most likely place Seokjin would be. A chuckle drifts past your ear on the other side, and your scowl deepens.

Once an appropriate amount of time goes by, you usher the Gundersons into the next bedroom. Hovering outside, you calculate how quickly you can convince them to leave. The longer they stay, the worse the so-called haunting will be.

You should have known better than to show them this house, but they were insistent. Or at least, Arthur was. Margaret seems reasonably paranoid, which you deem a positive quality. Everyone within a hundred-mile radius has heard of the haunted Elliot house.

Even the name is confusing, since it doesn’t bear the name of its builder, Daniel Baker, nor its longest resident, Mr. Josiah Whitley. Instead, it’s named for Nathaniel Elliot, the cult leader who murdered a man on its premises in 1978. Obviously, this fact wasn’t known to the public until after the cult sold the house and moved far away.

Eventually, Mr. Elliot was tried and found guilty of murder, but this was much later. Wincing a little, you glance at the ceiling. Seokjin has said many times that ghosts can’t read minds, but you wouldn’t put it past him to lie for a punchline. Even if he can’t read your mind, the faint scent of cedar lets you know he’s nearby.

Quickening your stride, you show the Gundersons the next bedroom. “This is one of my favorites,” you say, pulling hard on its warped door. “The view from that window is stunning. You can see all the way to the brook!”

Taking the bait, Margaret crosses the room. “Oh, look, Arthur!” she exclaims, leaning forward. “There’s a gazebo!”

He follows at a more leisurely pace, frowning when he spots a lone cobweb in the corner. Sighing, you swipe at this as you pass, almost certain the web wasn’t there this morning.

While the two converse, you pull out your clipboard and run down the list again.

Most days at your job are like today – running down lists and waiting for other people to make their own life decisions. Becoming a realtor wasn’t so much a choice as it was thrust upon you. When your mom got sick your senior year of grad school, you returned to take care of her and finished your coursework remotely.

There were only so many jobs with flexible hours, and you ended up getting your realtor’s license to support her on the side. When your mom passed, you stuck around to sort out her paperwork and affairs. Two years later, everything is in order and still, you remain. Stuck in a holding pattern, showing houses and too afraid to try your hand at anything different.

BANG.

The sudden noise from above plunges the room into silence. Both Arthur and Margaret swivel, wide eyes landing on you.

Margaret’s glasses chain trembles. “What was tha–”

“My assistant,” you blurt, backing towards the door. “He mentioned he would stop by to drop off some keys. That must be him – I’ll go and check!”

“But…” Arthur stares. “The noise came from above.”

“Be right back!” you call, stepping into the hall.

As fast as possible without raising suspicion, you rush down the hall. “Seokjin,” you hiss, hand skimming the banister as you descend. “Stop that right now!”

No one responds – not that you thought he would. Crossing the foyer, you reach the cellar door and yank it open. Flicking the overhead light, you see the orange has disappeared. Rolling your eyes, you shut the door.

“This isn’t funny,” you huff out loud to no one.

Far above you, a low groan shakes the house. Honestly, it sounds more sexual than scary, but you suppose that only makes it more sinister. Reaching the foyer, you slow your pace and set down your clipboard. Suppressing a sigh, you glance at the clock. This has happened enough times that you can predict things to the minute.

Crossing your arms, you tap your foot and count down in your head.

One – increased groaning. Sometimes from the cellar, often the attic and, during one memorable visit, from behind a locked bathroom door.

Two – shuffling feet while the Gundersons (insert buyer’s name here) debate whether to run or wait it out. They hastily whisper, wondering if it’s their minds playing tricks.

Third – laughter. Seokjin will say it sounds lilting but to you, his laughter is more akin to a car’s windshield wipers. Today, said laughter drifts from the main bedroom, immediately followed by the Gundersons’ screaming.

Directly above you, Margaret’s heels pound wooden floors. Wincing, you make a mental reminder to buff the scuffs from the wood.

“ARTHUR!” she calls, her voice pitching upward.

“Right behind you!” he bellows.

When the lights in the foyer flicker, you lean against the grand railing. In your experience, there’s nothing you can do now to save the showing. As soon as Seokjin reveals himself, it’s only a matter of time.

“Whoooo dareeessss to disturrrrrb meeeee!” he wails, and you try not to laugh. “This is MYYYY homeeee and you are nooooot welcomeeeee! OoOOOOooooOOo!”

Arthur is first down the stairs. Reluctantly, you step forward – as their realtor, you’ll try to calm them down and get them out. All part of the plan. What’s not part of the plan is Arthur’s blind panic, elbowing you – hard – in the stomach as he runs past.

Concaving, you stumble, your foot catching on a loose floorboard as you fall backwards. Suddenly, a pink cushion slides between you and the floor. You land in the middle of it, shocked but unharmed.

Arthur yanks open the front door. “You!” he blurts, whipping around to point. Blinking, you fight the urge to glance over your shoulder. “Yes, you,” he scoffs, spittle flying as Margaret runs past. “I don’t know if this is your idea of a sick joke or what, but your manager will be hearing from me!”

Before you can formulate a response, Arthur is out the front door. You hear the sound of their car starting, exhaust billowing behind them as they speed down the street.

Propping yourself on one elbow, you release a sigh. The house has fallen silent, almost sheepish in its total lack of sound. Head lolling back, you glare at the ceiling.

“You are so annoying,” you groan, well-aware you sound crazy. “I honestly don’t know what you’re looking for, Seokjin. The Gundersons were fine.”

The front door slams.

An outline of a person materializes between you and the living room, seeming composed of dust motes and sunshine. Turning your glare in their direction, you tap your fingers against the oak floor.

Seokjin solidifies fully, rakishly leaning against the paneled wall. He’s dressed in the same navy three-piece suit he wore when he died, albeit with his hair styled in this century’s fashion. Seokjin once said ghosts are able to change their appearance, but most choose not to. There’s little point to it, and it wastes precious energy.

Sadly, he shakes his head. “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Seokjin says, his deep timbre resonating through floorboards beneath you.

“Show off,” you mutter.

Lips twitching, he crooks a finger. The foyer light ceases to flicker, and Seokjin straightens. Dusting invisible dust from his shoulders, he walks forward.

“The Gundersons were tiresome,” he says. “I would’ve been bored of them in months, started haunting again, and this house would’ve gone right back on the market. Really, I saved you trouble in the long run. You can thank me later.”

“Oh, no,” you deadpan. “Two commissions on the same property. What a horrible fate.”

“Exactly. You’re welcome.”

Fighting an eye roll, you push yourself upward with cushion in hand. At least Seokjin was kind enough to break your fall, even if he caused the circumstances which led to it in the first place.

Brushing the dirt from the cushion, you shake your head. “You do know that eventually, someone will buy this house and you’ll have to make peace with that fact. Right?”

When Seokjin doesn’t immediately respond, you look up. His dark gaze lingers a second longer than necessary, briskly looking away when he catches you watching.

“I know,” Seokjin says, turning around. “Might I point out though, that I don’t have to make peace with anything. Ghost,” he adds, pointing at himself. “Not making peace with things is our bread and butter.”

“People have owned this house before, though.”

“Boring people,” Seokjin mutters.

“That didn’t seem to bother you back then!”

Seokjin enters the living room. “Ugh,” he groans, dropping onto a chaise. Dust motes spiral around him, as though he were solid. “If I must be trapped on the material plane, Y/N, the least the material plane could do is provide some entertainment. And the lovemaking of two seventy-year-olds doesn’t count,” he adds, fixing you with a glare.

Stifling laughter, you follow him into the parlor. Fluffing the cushion, you replace it on its chair and survey the room. Seokjin lounges dramatically and it could be your imagination, but he almost looks solid. More so than the first time you met, anyways.

He nearly scared the shit out of you, back then. Everyone at the firm warned you this house was haunted but were purposefully vague on the supernatural. The warnings they gave you were borderline mundane.

Oh, yeah, that house has been on the market forever. People say that it’s haunted, but I’d honestly be more worried about rats. Or asbestos – popcorn ceilings didn’t age well for a reason. And I don’t know if it’s true, but I heard a convict once lived in the basement for three months before the cops caught him. Watch out for that!

You entered this house with more than your usual trepidation, pepper spray in one hand and a flashlight in the other. Apparently, the wiring wasn’t all up to code – something you’ve since rectified with the city.

The sound of the door creak could’ve been written by the Brothers Grimm themselves, textbook gothic. Your flashlight swept over dusty floors, faint footprints remaining to remind you of its past. Spine steeled, you forced yourself to continue.

Finding a light switch, you flicked upward, and the chandelier came to life. The lighting was dim, barely enough to see by on a rainy day. Keeping your flashlight, you wandered into the parlor and came to a sudden stop. Forest green wallpaper lined the walls, remarkably intact for its age. Stunned, you turned in a slow circle.

Moody maximalism was one of your favorite design styles, and this room was made for it. With a slightly better attitude, you resumed your walk-through, discovering a hidden cupboard in the kitchen and a dumbwaiter to nowhere. The second-floor entry point had been boarded up, but that could be rectified.

Some of the woodwork of the house was scuffed, and a few corners held fallen leaves, but overall, it was in great condition. None of the realtors had prepared you for that – you arrived expecting a war zone and were pleasantly surprised.

On the second floor, you found a library – or what had once been the library, given the shelving was empty – that made you audibly gasp. Blue-black custom shelves extended along three of the walls. Closer to the door, a bright square of color remained from where a painting had hung.

Curious, your fingers traced the edges. “This place is unreal,” you murmured to yourself.

“I know, right?” said a voice directly in your ear.

Like any sane person, you screamed and jumped skyward. Your flashlight fell, its beam rolling over and over until it hit a baseboard. You didn’t stick around to find out, turning fast on your heel and bolting into the hall.

Thundering down the front stairs – wincing as the wood groaned – you nearly reached the foyer when Seokjin appeared.

“Boo,” he said calmly, between you and the door.

Coming to a shuddering halt, your hand gripped the railing. The ghost was impeccably dressed, if slightly invisible, and raised a dark brow in response to your flight.

Gaze darting sideways, you sought a second exit but all you could recall was the cellar and that wasn’t an option. Years of training from watching scary movies kicked in at that point, and you slowly straightened. Running away would do nothing – a ghost could follow you anywhere – so, maybe reasoning with him would be the best option.

“What do you want?” you asked, masking your fear to plant both hands on your hips. “Who are you?”

Surprise flared in his – admittedly attractive – gaze. Some of the shock had worn off by then, and you could admit to yourself (if to no one else) that the ghost before you was hot. Even thinking this felt ridiculous, and you wondered if your already-fragile grasp on reality was slipping.

Taking a single step forward, the ghost cocked his head. When you stumbled back, his lip quirked, and he appeared by your side.

“Who am I?” he mused, walking in a slow circle. “Awfully strange to ask me that, when I’m the person that died here, and you’ve never stepped foot in this house until now. I would know.”

Started, you turned your head.

This was a mistake since it allowed you to see every ridge of his features. The rounded tip of his nose, his enviably full lips, and a curve to his jawline which could likely cut glass.

Forcing your gaze upward, you found him focused on you. “You… died here?” you asked before you could think better.

His lips thinned. “You know, it’s very rude to ask a ghost how they died. It’s personal.”

“Oh,” you said. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t ask,” the ghost replied with a sigh.

Your eyes narrowed, hearing barely hidden laughter in his tone. This ghost was making fun of you. The audacity!

Incensed by this, you lifted your chin. “Wouldn’t asking you whether it’s polite to ask about death be asking you about death, though?”

“Fair enough.” He shrugged, slipping both hands in his pockets. “There really isn’t a good way for you to bring up that conversation.”

A laugh escaped, despite yourself.

His gaze flickered, as though oddly pleased. Quickly, the ghost scanned you from your shoes to your face, where he lingered.

“I’m curious,” he mused, resuming his walk in a circle.

Despite your discomfort, you forced yourself to stay still. Even though you could feel each place his gaze lingered – your shoulders, your collarbone, tacing the slope of your cheekbones.

“What are you curious about?” you asked, pushing the words past your lips.

He stopped between you and the door again. Slipping both hands from his pockets, he crossed his arms over his chest. The way his biceps strained against his suit was intriguing, implying there was something to strain against. Dimly, you wondered what a ghost’s gym routine looked like.

Your lips twitched at the thought, and the ghost scowled.

“Stop that,” he commanded. “You should be terrified. I was curious about why you haven’t run yet. Anyone else would’ve by now.”

“Would they?”

“Based on my experience, yes.” He tilted his head. “This is the first time I’ve introduced myself to someone and they stayed. Well,” he amended through teeth. “Stayed without crucifixes, holy water, and a priest.”

“Does that really work?” you wondered, genuinely curious.

“Does what work – exorcism?”

You nodded.

“Clearly not.” He waved a hand down his body. “At least, not in my case. When I first died, I wanted to move on. I was even excited when the first priest arrived, but he did nothing, and neither did the next one… eventually, I stopped hoping. Started haunting, instead.”

“Well, sure,” you said, dazed.

His lips twitched. “My name is Seokjin, by the way. Not that you asked.”

“That was literally one of the first things I asked!”

Ignoring this, Seokjin stuck out his hand. “And you are?”

“Y/N,” you said, ignoring the impossibility of what you were about to attempt while extending your palm. “Nice to meet you.”

Your hands met in the middle and, instead of passing through, you felt your palms brush. For a moment, you touched calluses and warm skin, smelling the faint scent of cloves.

Seokjin went utterly still.

Chin jerking down, he stared at your joined hands. “That’s… never happened before.”

Retracting swiftly, you said the first thought that came to mind. “What? Never touched a woman?”

Scowling, he retracted his hand as well. “I was thirty when I died, Y/N. Not thirteen.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered, then paused. “You… haven’t been able to touch anyone since you died?”

“Things, yes. People, no.” A thoughtful look crossed his face. “A psychic visited me once. The owners at that time brought her, wanting to see if she could get rid of me.” Seokjin snorted. “She got them to pay her, then said, ‘No.’ Hilarious. And interesting,” he added. “She told me she’d met other ghosts, ones that could interact. Never seemed to work for me, though.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond. For it being your first encounter with the supernatural, nothing about this had gone as imagined. You weren’t sure how to converse with a ghost who, for all intents and purposes, seemed fairly normal.

Except for the whole ‘being dead’ part.

“Well.” You shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything, I guess.”

His expression remained inscrutable, but for the faintest of seconds, you thought Seokjin looked intrigued. After a moment, he moved closer and leaned in. You caught the faintest whiff of orange, cloves, and cedar on what could have been his breath.

“I suppose there is,” he murmured, and then disappeared.

Since then, Seokjin has appeared each time you returned. The second time, you were halfway convinced your first visit was a hallucination. A theory Seokjin seemed content to feed into, refusing to show himself until you were about to leave. Then, he jumped through the hall closet to yell, “MUTINY!” and cement his presence in your mind.

Seokjin doesn’t dress the same every time. A few weeks into your friendship (if one can call it that), he informed you he could change his appearance but hadn’t done it much. It took energy to appear on the mortal pane, more so if his appearance was altered.

Still, you’ve learned Seokjin will do pretty much anything to commit to a bit. His brand of haunting tends to border on comical. Putting his arms on backwards, headless juggling, vomiting wine – really anything is fair game if not truly grotesque. By now, you’ve seen his whole gambit, which is how you can say today’s performance was lackluster.

Sprawled on the chaise, one foot dangling, Seokjin looks every bit of the tragic lothario. Again, you can’t help but wonder whether he’s gained permanence since the last time you saw him. You could almost swear the chaise sinks under the weight of his frame.

“What is it?” he demands, lazily pushing himself upward.

Something in your chest flutters, although you ignore it. Arms crossed, you fix him with a look of disdain. It’s sinful for Seokjin to look as good as he does – and the worst part is, you know it’s not an illusion.

After you met the third time, you Googled his name along with the house and found multiple hits. Seokjin Kim was killed on October 31st, 1978, by Nathanial Elliot, the leader of the Sunny Days cult. Both Seokjin’s parents joined two years prior, and he’d tried unsuccessfully to convince them to leave by mail and phone.

Eventually, he visited in person and convinced them to go – unfortunately, Nathanial caught wind of the situation and killed Seokjin before this could happen. You saw photos of Seokjin from then and can confirm he was always devastatingly handsome. Often, you’ve wondered if he left someone behind – a wife or a girlfriend – but can’t bring yourself to ask. You aren’t sure which answer would hurt more.

Regardless, you know Seokjin was missed. His parents were the ones who took down the Sunny Days cult, putting their leader behind bars for killing their son. Seokjin admitted once that they tried to tear this house down. They didn’t know he was tied to the grounds, and he didn’t want to tell them. It would’ve been harder for them to move on, he explained, and your heart broke a little.

Not long after that, you accidentally let it slip that Seokjin had a scent. It made him howl with laughter, nearly falling down the front stairs – not that this would’ve hurt him. From then on, Seokjin showed off his growing ability to move solid objects by leaving oranges for you in the house whenever you came. Only another of his practical jokes but lately, it’s made your skin hot to think of.

You realized you felt more than you should for him last month when he saved you from falling. Determined to clear out the cellar, your entire foot went through the first step and Seokjin pulled you to safety.

“Careful,” he murmured, one arm wrapped around your waist. Gently, he eased you backwards and onto the landing. “The top step is rotted through. You’ll need to call in someone to fix that.”

Unable to speak, you nodded and quickly disentangled. Each place he had touched, your skin tingled, and not at all unpleasantly. Since that day, your feelings have only worsened. Sometimes, you wonder if he knows.

Sometimes you wonder whether he feels the same, no matter how hopeless it is.

Heaving a great sigh, Seokjin stands from the couch. Lifting both arms, he stretches this way and that like an overgrown cat. The end of his shirt comes untucked, displaying a flat strip of skin you refuse to acknowledge.

Forcing your gaze to his face, you lift a single brow. Weeks after meeting, you considered Seokjin your friend, or at least an acquaintance. Now, you can’t call this friendship, but not because things between you have worsened. It’s because the more time you spend together, the more you find yourself wishing for something impossible. Something more.

“You know what,” you tell him. “There’s no need to scare off every potential buyer.”

Seokjin pauses, then lowers his arms. “There’s a need when they’re terrible. I’m the one forced to live with them for eternity, not you.”

“It’s not an eternity, though,” you tried to joke. “Eventually, they’ll die – or, so one would presume.”

Seokjin’s face hardens. Before you can take another breath, he’s standing before you. “Much better,” he says, his voice like steel. “I love being reminded that, while the world continues to age around me, I never will. I’ll simply stay on this godforsaken plot of land until the earth is destroyed by its own inhabitants. How long do you think that’ll take, Y/N? One decade? Two?”

Eyes wide, you stare at him in shock.

Seokjin has never spoken to you like this before. Usually, he’s far more cavalier about his reality, easily accepting the fact that he’s a ghost. Never once has he ranted about the world passing by. In fact, Seokjin frequently throws in your face that you’ll soon have more wrinkles than him.

For the first time, you wonder if all that is a front. If perhaps, deep down, all his lackadaisicalness is merely a cover for a deeper kind of fear.

Slowly, you move closer. “I didn’t mean to be dismissive,” you murmur. “Of course, I don’t want you to be forced to live with people you hate. I just meant…”

You trail off, uncertain and Seokjin’s face softens. He moves even closer, his scent comforting you in a way you can’t explain. In a way it shouldn’t be.

“I’ll never get used to this,” you sigh.

You aren’t sure why you’re speaking so softly. Possibly due to his proximity and possibly due to the look in his eyes, studying you as though you’re the impossibility, and not him. Dust motes trail through the air when Seokjin lifts a hand.

With bated breath, you watch as he reaches towards you. At the last second, he shifts and lightly brushes your jaw.

Sharply, you inhale because you feel it. You feel him.

“Seokjin,” you whisper. “What are you…”

Gently shushing, he leans in, and you feel his breath, feather-light, across your skin. Utterly shocked, you go still. It’s his breath that you feel. Breath that shouldn’t exist, according to logic.

Slowly, his gaze drops and stays on your lips. If Seokjin can’t read minds, he must hear your heart racing. The sound of it is all-consuming, drowning out rational thought.

“You want to know what I’m waiting for?” he murmurs, his gaze lifting. “I’m waiting for someone to look at this… house the way you do.”

“A lot of people have liked the house, Seokjin. People who –”

“I don’t want you to sell this house."

Startled, you stop. “Why not?”

His expression twists, revealing his vulnerability. “I think you know.”

Roughly, you exhale.

Yes. You do know. It’s the same reason you’ve half-assed the last six showings at this address. It’s why you keep people from looking, and when they insist, barely attempt to stifle Seokjin’s shenanigans. You could have come earlier today and requested Seokjin to be on good behavior. He would have done it. For you, he would have.

Which is exactly why you didn’t ask.

“I… want to hear you say it,” you say, so low, you’re surprised that he hears.

Achingly slow, Seokjin’s hand slips from your jaw to your neck. When he pulls you closer, you can feel the weight of his hand, the solid pressure that comes from his fingers on your skin.

Your eyes flutter shut.

“I don’t want you to go,” Seokjin murmurs, his lips close to your ear. “If someone else buys this house, you’d stop showing it. You wouldn’t come here again, and I can’t leave these grounds. If someone else buys this place” – his breath hitches – “I won’t see you again. I can stomach eternity, Y/N, but not without you.”

“Seokjin.” His name leaves your lips as a whisper, or prayer.

“Yes?”

“Do you ever…” Eyes opening, you look up. “I don’t want to say it out loud.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” Your voice breaks. “That might make it real. What I want can’t be real, so if I say it out loud, it might vanish and right now, it exists in this tentative space. We exist in this space.”

Lightly, his thumb strokes your throat, and you feel your knees buckle. Every callous, every touch feels so horribly real, it’s making it difficult to remember why this can’t be.

“I’ve stopped wondering what’s real and what’s not,” Seokjin murmurs, his gaze tracing your mouth. “Most people say I shouldn’t exist and yet, here I am. They say I shouldn’t be here, able to touch you like this and yet, I am. They say I shouldn’t–”

Rising on tiptoe, you cut him off with your kiss. Seokjin shudders, his lips parted and warm in the shock of the moment.

“Fuck,” he groans, breaking away to stare at you in wonder.

Before you can respond, he returns, his kiss wild and fierce. Your own desire surges, touching him hesitantly at first, and then with full abandon. Hands sliding up his chest, over his shoulders, your fingers curl in his hair to anchor him to you.

Cupping your face, Seokjin pulls your body to his. His touch is reverent, deifying while his hands travel lower to land on your waist. His body curves above yours, catching your gasps with the tip of his tongue. Seokjin feels solid beneath you – solid, and warm, and painfully real.

His mouth moves to your jaw, trailing heat down your throat and across your bared collar. Shivers of pleasure shoot through you as he walks you backwards, pressing your spine to the wall. Briefly – wondrously – you laugh, the sound caught again by his kiss.

Within minutes, you’re panting, heart beating wildly as you grip his hair tighter. Seokjin’s leg presses forward, pushing your thighs apart and you nearly dissolve. He moves harder, faster, as though scared that you’ll vanish. This is the opposite of disappearing, though.

This is together, beneath, and on top as –

“Shit,” Seokjin growls, the sound torn from his throat.

Dazed, you look sideways and realize his hand has gone through the wall.

Seokjin stares at his wrist, his chest rising and falling. Everything you can feel is solid, but his hand sinks through the wall about an inch deep. It’s hard to concentrate with him above you, looking like that. Seokjin’s hair remains mussed by your hands, proving you touched him – however briefly.

Lips thinning, Seokjin pulls his hand out. Purposefully, he lays his palm flat on the wall but it’s clear to you both that he’s concentrating. Some of his pressure dissipates.

“I – fuck,” he exhales, dropping his chin.

Gently, you soothe a strand of hair behind his ear. This is the first time you’ve seen Seokjin anything less than immaculate and goddamn, if it doesn’t look good on him. That’s making it difficult to focus on the matter at hand.

The matter at hand. Ha.

Thinking this, a snort escapes your lips before you can stop it. Stunned, Seokjin glances up with wide eyes.

“Did you just… snort?” he asks, incredulous.

You shake your head, and then nod, sheepish. “Um, yes. I did. It’s just…” Now that you’ve started, you can’t help but continue. “I can’t believe the hottest make-out session of my life ended with your fucking hand through a wall.”

Seokjin stares for a long moment before – impossibly – his chest starts to shake. Before long, you’re both laughing out loud at the ridiculousness of the situation. Once your laughter has faded though, comfortable silence remains.

Pulling you into his chest, Seokjin’s hand strokes your neck. “I don’t know what this means,” he admits with a sigh.

“Me, either.”

“I do know I want to do that again.”

“Same,” you say, pulling back.

“But…” Seokjin hesitates. “Y/N. You know I’m not… real, right?”

Your heart sinks to your shoes. “You’re real to me.”

“I know.” He speaks softly. “But I –”

Lifting a hand, you press a finger to his lips. “Don’t,” you warn. “Please. I don’t want to think about the future right now. I know I don’t have eternity, but I don’t want what I have without you.”

Something in his gaze breaks but Seokjin merely nods, letting silence fall again. You fear that he’ll vanish, leaving you alone but he merely exhales. The breath brushes your skin.

“Alright,” Seokjin murmurs, winding his hand with yours. “What do you want to talk about, then?”

The ghost of a smile crosses your lips. “What if… we talk about me buying this house?”

#bangtanarmynet #bts fanfic #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #seokjin fanfiction #jin fanfiction #bts fanfiction #seokjin au #jin au #bts au #bts halloween

270 notes · View notes

jaimistoryteller · 11 months ago

Text

Plumbing Emergency! Help Please!

12/12/2023 3:00 am

Today [technically yesterday as I posted this as it's now 3:30 am] I was trying to fix a pipe, and the on/off valve broke, so I got to deal with 10ish hours of getting soaked while trying to deal with it. I finally got the water directed outside, so I could stop for the night.

Already got a hold of several repair peeps, the best one is sadly still outside my reach, so any and all help would be appreciated, since I won't have water til that situation is dealt with.

That said, I need $637. That's $237 to get me out of the negative and $400 for the plumber to come and repair it [rough estimate for parts, labor, and dispatch].

If I can get to at least $318 I can have them come repair the valve, so I don't have to spend however much longer fighting with it myself. Please share this, thank you all,

Jaimi

$637

Cash app $jaimist

venmo @JaimiST

Ko-Fi

Paypal: cosmosbusinessventures@gmail .com or Paypal Me

Share this post; my venmo, paypal, or cash app with a note about how it can help.

#emergency #signal boost #help please #plumbing emergency

115 notes · View notes

eschergirls · 5 days ago

Text

November 2024 Escher Girls Updates & Patreon Thank You!

Hi everybody! It's November, so it's time for a monthly update and to thank all our wonderful Patreon subscribers!

For a quick update about Tumblr, if you've been following the blog you probably noticed that in late September/early October, the Escher Girls Tumblr ran into the infamous "shadowban" bug, which is not actually a shadowban but just a bug that happens to random blogs on Tumblr (more info here). After bugging Tumblr about it a few times, they finally fixed it, which means everything is back to normal and I can send and receive DMs and messages as normal on Tumblr (just in time for the Caption Contest which was handy for giving out prizes to the winners!)

I appreciate everybody who helped me figure it out and especially @haveievermentioned who messaged me to let me know that they weren't getting updates from the EG Tumblr! In the future if you run into any issues with Tumblr or the main site, please don't hesitate to let me know!

Also, if you missed it last month, I've been fixing up the main site and I updated the submission guidelines and also the submission form which now lets you choose a name to submit with and also let me know if it's okay for me to reply to your email address if I need more info about your submission. The new and improved form can be found here: https://eschergirls.com/form/submit-content

And, all new posts on EscherGirls.com now link to the corresponding Tumblr post so site users can easily navigate to the Tumblr cross-post and see what Tumblr users are saying. And when I fix up old posts, I'm now fixing up the Tumblr version as well and adding a cross-post link. It's twice the work but given that many people still view the site on Tumblr, I figure it's worth it to everybody. :3 There are some posts without a Tumblr cross-post link because the Tumblr post has been deleted/hidden because of Tumblr's mercurial algorithmic flagging which can't tell the difference between stuff like a coloured body suit and nudity.

As usual I've spent a lot of time this month working on fixing up old posts, restoring broken images or finding higher res versions of old images, and fixing broken links, etc, also fixing all the formatting of older posts and finding sources.

Here are some of the posts I fixed up this month (for any that want to check them out, the links to the Tumblr versions are included in every post):

This "How To Draw" book depicting women's waists as a ball joint (which explains a lot about why artists think women can just swivel around like rotor blades), and an associated post with that infamous Jennifer Blood cover

The infamous "muscleboobs" how to draw page depicting women's breasts as muscles

Two different Soul Calibur posts: one with Talim in a boobs and butt pose (and a redraw fix of it), and another with Xianghua, Talim and Ivy in various states of rubberization

Black Canary described by my friend as a miracle of modern plumbing

War Goddess giving up War Goddess-ing and instead going into the butt-selling business

The infamous Glory/Avengelyne cover (the first time I posted Liefeld on this blog after the first 800 posts without him to prove a point that it wasn't just him putting out the insectoid women art) and an associated post

And a caption contest with Avengelyne and Ravyn in pretty hilarious poses and also the winners of that contest

And now I want to give a big thank you to Escher Girls' Patreon subscribers for October!

Thank you so so much to:

Anne Adler Cat Mara Chris McKenzie Em Bardon First Time Trek Greg Sepelak Ken Trosaurus Kevin Carson Kim Wincen Kristoffer Illern Holmén Leak Manuel Dalton Mary Kuhner Max Schwarz Michael Mazur Miriam Pody Morgan McEvoy randomisedmongoose Rebecca Breu Ringoko Ryan Gerber Sam Mikes Sean Sea SpecialRandomCast Thomas

And a very very special thank you to JohnnyBob8 for buying me a coffee on Ko-Fi!!!

Thank you so much for helping to keep the site running! The Tumblr technical issues and algorithmic flagging are reasons why Escher Girls has a dedicated self-hosted site, and why I appreciate the support on Patreon and Ko-Fi so much as it helps me pay for hosting, domain costs, and site upgrades and keep the site running.

And thank you to just everybody, all of you interacting with the blog on both Tumblr and on the main site, and who participate in caption contests, and submit things to me, or just generally send me kind words. Thank you all! You make running the site so worth it. :)

Ami

PS: As a reminder, we added a button that links to the Escher Girls Tumblr and to our RSS feed for those who want to follow that way. (For newbies, RSS stands for Really Simple Syndication and is basically a feed you can read using an RSS reader. Simply copy and paste https://eschergirls.com/rss.xml into an RSS reader and it will keep you up to date on Escher Girls!)

Make sure it is eschergirls.com and not eschergirls.tumblr.com, as that is Tumblr, and not the self-hosted site.

If you have any issues with the site or suggestions to improve it, please do not hesitate to contact me and let me know!

If you wish to support Escher Girls, you can subscribe to our Patreon at: https://www.patreon.com/ami_angelwings or donate through Ko-Fi at: https://ko-fi.com/amiangelwings.

#patreon #update #note

23 notes · View notes

handeaux · 2 months ago

Text

Dorelle Heisel Plumbed Brain Mysteries And Psychedelicized Cincinnati’s Social Circles

Dorelle Markley Heisel called Cincinnati her home for several decades, but her mind was in another dimension. She was known as “Cincinnati’s Brain Lady” and held college faculty positions in literature, psychology and fine art. She pioneered biofeedback techniques to control mental and bodily functions while introducing Cincinnati’s strait-laced society to the psychedelic subculture of the Sixties.

Virginia Dorelle Markley was born in 1917 in Danville, Illinois but spent her childhood shuttling between her father’s Palm Beach restaurant and her mother’s St. Louis hotel. At DePauw University in Greencastle, Indiana, she was student royalty – literally – voted May Queen in her senior year.

It was at DePauw that she met and became engaged to W. Donald Heisel, a Cincinnati native and Western Hills High School alumnus. At the time of his 1940 marriage to Dorelle, Heisel was assistant secretary to Cincinnati’s Civil Service Commission and was, according to the Cincinnati Enquirer [21 May 1940] “one of the city’s youngest executives.” The Heisels built a new house on a quiet cul de sac in Westwood, where they raised two daughters.

Don Heisel earned a reputation as the “godfather of public administration in the Tristate” [Cincinnati Enquirer 6 March 1988] because of the many governmental officials he mentored at the University of Cincinnati and at Xavier University. Dorelle, who had earned a degree in English from DePauw, added a bachelor’s (1952) and master’s (1965) in education from UC while also taking classes at the Cincinnati Art Academy.

Dorelle taught English for several years in Cincinnati high schools and at the Ohio Mechanics Institute. During the summers she was a fixture at Pogue’s Department Store. Hundreds of Queen City baby boomers likely display pastel portraits of themselves, sketched by Dorelle at her stand in the Pogue’s children’s department. She hated the drab institutional brown walls in her husband’s office, so one day she hauled her pastels over to City Hall and executed a large mural of the Cincinnati skyline, drawn from memory.

UC’s University College recruited Dorelle in the mid-1960s and she flourished there, teaching literature, art appreciation and psychology. With assistance from the Procter & Gamble company, she brought innovative technology into her classrooms with a push-button feedback device that allowed students to register immediate opinions regarding class content. She told the Cincinnati Post [14 March 1968]:

“When students become frustrated with a lecture or feel lost or just plain bored, they can indicate their anxiety by signaling me on the monitor.”

Dorelle’s interest in media and their effects on human communication led her to Canadian theorist Marshall McLuhan, known for his books “Understanding Media” and “The Medium Is The Massage.” Among the earliest mentions of McLuhan in Cincinnati newspapers is a reference to a 1966 Evening College class taught by Dorelle to introduce the Canadian theorist’s ideas to Cincinnati.

Simultaneously with her investigations of media and biofeedback, Dorelle dove into what was then known as the human potential movement. She presided over a multi-week UC Evening College class titled “Actualizing Your Potential: A Group Happening.” Enquirer reporter Jo Thomas sat in on the course and reported [21 August 1969] a most unusual classroom experience.

“I will not lecture,” Heisel said. “You will live out experiences, and I will ask you questions. Answer them in your head without verbalizing them. Writing is so slow and the mind works at such speed.”

Dorelle invited the students to form themselves into trains of about nine “cars,” kindergarten-style and take turns being the “engine” or the “caboose.”

“Elderly women hung on to 20-year-olds. Bald men chugged in front of bearded men. Around and around the room the trains went, gathering momentum and enthusiasm. One train burst out of the classroom door into the bright hall, chugging with gusto.”

The explosion of new ideas generated by the psychedelic Sixties energized Dorelle and she launched a series of public lectures to share her excitement. One wonders how her Cincinnati audiences, among such mainline organizations such as the Federation of Jewish Organizations and the Kiwanis Club, reacted to her exposition titled “Turn On, Tune In, Find Out!”

An early adopter of technology, Dorelle acquired a variety of devices to assist her research into altering thought patterns via biofeedback. Among these contraptions were the electromyograph and the alphaphone that made brainwaves audible or visual. She claimed that biofeedback, in addition to curing a variety of conditions from depression to migraines, transported users into a new state of being that she called the Kairos Dimension.

"The Kairos Dimension is nature taking its electronic course through you by providing strategies for amplifying your sensory range,” she announced in her 1974 book, “The Kairos Dimension.”

The titles of Dorelle’s non-credit classes and community lectures indicate the paths her biofeedback research led her down: “Brainfun: Steering Minds In New Directions,” “The Holographic Mind,” “How Biofeedback Opens Social Spaces,” and “How Biofeedback Supports Excitement And Growth.” Here is the course catalog description for one of these classes:

“Feelings of stress, tension and pressure take place only in muscles, never in the chemical-electrical brain that sends out orders. New research gives us a more accurate model of how we guide and control our range of ‘body sculptures.’ Small group exploration of the latest technologies.”

As the Human Potential movement evolved into various New Age philosophies, Dorelle’s biofeedback strategies caught on among that crowd. When the Montreal Star compiled a list of 50 important New Age books in 1975, Dorelle’s “Biofeedback Exercise Book” was featured along with books on transcendental meditation, herbal remedies, gestalt therapy and “The Joy of Sex.”

The nationally syndicated television show, P.M. Magazine, hosted Dorelle in November 1983 as “Cincinnati’s Brain Lady who enables you to see your brain on a television screen.” For a brief period, UC’s radio station WGUC aired a show devoted to Dorelle’s “Kairos Dimension.”

The Heisels divorced in 1977 and throughout the 1980s Dorelle’s public appearances waned. A Body/Mind/Spirit Festival at Avondale’s Unitarian Church in 1988 found her discussing biofeedback along with proponents of shamanism, tarot cards, crystals, chelation therapy and psychic powers.

Dorelle retired from UC and relocated to Plano, Texas where one of her daughters lived. In retirement, she played bridge and painted portraits. She died, aged 79, in November 1996.

#dorelle heisel #dorelle markley heisel #biofeedback #new age

9 notes · View notes

pixeldistractions · 29 days ago

Text

B&S characters on social media:

Inspired by the discussion following this post:

Jordan: Logs in once a month, posts a picture of some RV work he did, plumbing and wiring with such terrible lighting you can’t make out what’s what (even if you did care about plumbing and wiring…), or maybe some mountains or landscapes if you’re lucky. He doesn’t read anyone else’s posts or reply to comments, then bye, see you next month!

Maria: Pictures of every dinner she’s ever made, beautifully plated. Most likely to be on Pinterest, pinning recipes, shoes, and aesthetic dried flowers. Needs you to hear what song she’s loving right now! Facebook posts set to friends only of funny things JoJo did. Hearts *everything* she reads.

Colette: Doom-scrolling. Nasty comments on Reddit that get equal amounts of upvotes and downvotes. On Facebook for her real estate stuff, but she hates being fake nice and approachable. Likes brutalist architecture pics on Instagram.

Ingrid: Fumbling YouTube wannabe. Her videos get plenty of likes and subscribes, but then she gets distracted and loses the audience she gained. Artful nude selfies on Instagram, but got banned from Tumblr by the titty police.

Lou: shitposts all day. Reading smutty fanfic on AO3. Political at election time, social justice keyboard warrior. Huge following on Threads (and brags about it). Also sometimes nasty on Reddit and had a little spat with Colette once, but they’d never know it. Has seen and “appreciated” Ingrid’s nude yoga.

Jack: Mostly on Facebook, plentiful pictures of his kids. Admin of the Phoenix family private group page. Admin of his kids scouting FB page, always answers parent questions within 2 hours. Humble-bragging his volunteer work. Reposts charities and “copy-paste” memes.

Maya and Tyler: Joint account. Reposts motivational memes and science nerd jokes. Fitness stuff. Excessive thoughts on Star Trek and Doctor Who. Football and weed. You can tell exactly which of them made the post based on the content. Couple selfies and pictures of their dog.

#character stuff #extras #jordan #maria #colette #ingrid #lou #jack #maya #tyler

10 notes · View notes

dottiesficrecs · 1 year ago

Text

a selection of wangxian femslash

in honor of august 21st being fanfic appreciation day, have some f/f wangxian fics!

---

Close The Door Next Time (Or At Least Invite Me) by anxiousTypist | E | 6.5k | CW wangxian-typical dubcon

A plumbing mishap leads to Wei Ying sharing a room with Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan comes home to see Wei Ying making herself very comfortable indeed. — Or: Wei Ying fucks her plush bunny toy on Lan Zhan’s bed.

well-loved and taking root by etcetcetc | E | 3k

“But you totally want to knock me up with your eggs if I’m into it,” Wei Wuxian supplies, delighted, already feeling a little shivery with the idea. Lan Zhan fixes her with a stern look. She steps closer, close enough that she can speak into Wei Wuxian’s ear. “Do I?” she asks. She puts a hand low on Wei Wuxian’s stomach, hot even through her clothes. “Is that what you think, Wei Ying? That I want to fuck you long and hard, fill you up so that you can never forget who you belong to?” “Um.” Wei Wuxian swallows, swaying into Lan Zhan’s solid warmth. “That sounds nice,” she says, a little weakly.

the flower path grows thorns (then you reach out to save me) by sleepingyoongi | E | 3.1k

"Do you want me to help?" Lan Zhan asks. Her voice is low and even, a forced effort to hide the desire in her words. Normally, she would never be this bold, this shameless - that's Wei Ying's area of expertise - but something about the early morning, before dawn has even broken yet, makes her brave. "H-help?" Wei Ying stutters, cheeks colouring. "It seems that having an orgasm would help you sleep. I can help you with that." (or: fem!wangxian where wei ying wakes up horny and lan zhan helps out.)

everything is yours series by tapiokay | E | 8.7k total | CW omegaverse

Wei Ying has not fucked her in two weeks. Lan Zhan "forgets" to take her heat suppressants.

sudden, wild and delicate (your fingers | my tongue) by Anonymous | E | 10.1k

After discovering people with vaginas can have multiple and consecutive orgasms, Wei Ying decides to take things into her own hands—quite literally—and put the scientific method to the test to see how many times she can make herself come. Unfortunately, no matter what she does or how much stimulation she gets she can’t ever get past the one. Until she finds herself thinking of her best friend Lan Zhan.

To Dress Her in Your Colors by Eudoxia (@eudoxiav) | M | 4.3k | CW omegaverse

Wei Wuxian's first heat after coming back to life is terrible. Lucky for her, Lan Wangji kindly offers to let her stay at Cloud Recesses for the next one. And if Wei Wuxian steals a robe or two, what's a little robe... borrowing between zhiji? — For the prompt: "Wangxian post canon a/b/o (cql ending based) where wwx keeps stealing lwj's robes for her nest coming back to cloud recesses. they are not together yet but lwj of course keeps leaving them in jingshi for wwx to take without being suspicious. get together when wwx finds out that it has been deliberate"

the day you promised you could lie forever. by lotuslike | E | 7.9k | CW omegaverse

"Wei Ying," she rasps out, pupils blown wide when Wei Ying forces her head up to look at her. Her head feels floaty. She's beginning to feel hot all over, too, sweat sticking behind her knees, under the swell of her breasts, only to be cooled where her skin touches Lan Zhan's, and absently she thinks she should be worried that she may somehow be having a heat stroke. She watches Lan Zhan's nostrils flair, swallow hard, and that brings another gush down her legs. Deliriously, she's sure she's already soaked through her robes and is starting to stain Lan Zhan's, which doesn't help much. "Your heat." ---- Wei Ying unexpectedly gets her first heat in Mo Xuanyu's body, and unintentionally start's Lan Zhan's rut. Shamelessness ensues.

---

make sure to leave the authors some nice comments if you can!!

#fic rec #wangxian #wlw wangxian #mdzs fic rec #fem wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #wangxian fic rec

56 notes · View notes

okamirayne · 2 months ago

Note

Hey Rayne-chan! (ɔ◔‿◔)ɔ ♥ It's a TWD Ask. I'm so hyped to know you're a Walking Dead fan and love your pairings. Just curious as I read that you weren't sold on the Richonne pairing. Why is that? And also, are you a Darol fan? No pressure to answer if you don't want, I'm just curious because i love how you write characters and would love to hear why certain pairings appeal more than others. Thanks (✿◠‿◠)

Hey there TWD-fan Anon! 💜

I'm so hyped to know you're a Walking Dead fan and love your pairings.

Just curious as I read that you weren't sold on the Richonne pairing. Why is that?

Right you are. Yeah, it just...didn't gel for me. I get it objectively, but I don't feel it. That might have something to do with chemistry. Andrew Lincoln is a bloody brilliant actor. Hell, he sells it.

Pick any character or actor and Andrew could probably make me believe he was head over heels for them if he wanted to😅. Danai, for me personally, isn't telegraphing on the same frequency. Not saying she's not a good actress, I just feel a disconnect from her side when playing off Andrew's energy. It just doesn't translate for me and I can't quite pin it - it's just a feeling. For others, I appreciate that it does translate and they love the pairing, and that's great. I just don't feel it sadly. Chemistry-wise, Andrew seems to carry it. Character-wise, I can't fully make the leap from friends to lovers for Rick and Michonne...I really tried to, but it just didn't quite land for me. I love the idea, but I just don't feel it as it's played out.

And also, are you a Darol fan?

Not anymore. Once upon a time...like...8 seasons go...during the prison arc. Yeah. Back then? I could get on board with that and I even wanted to see it play out.

But I personally felt the showrunners/writers dragged out the whole "will they, won't they" tension until it fizzled out into a more familial kind of bond (same thing with Harvey/Donna if you've ever watched Suits). I think the slow burn can turn into cool ashes if not done right and I really feel the relationship tease just ran lukewarm then cold for me. Don't get me wrong, she was great for Daryl's growth, but it hit a wall at a certain point. And I think that can sometimes be an obstacle as well as a guardrail for him emotionally.

Post-prison Arc, I feel Daryl shrinks or stagnates when he's around Carol. He doesn't seem to expand or plumb any depths. Sure, I feel his love for Carol, but that doesn't read for me as romantic love. I think the chance of that ran its course. In fact, there are times when I've wanted to literally shove Carol out the bloody way (seriously, I get vexed lol) because I feel she might've posed a hurdle to Daryl actually finding the kind of love or connection that will grow him and deepen him...now some could argue Carol does try to encourage him to explore romantic connections (i.e. Connie) and that's fair enough, but I still feel there's an unfinished agenda the writers are pushing (I may be way off here) which annoys me...and has only irritated me further given the Season 2 spin-off with Carol.

So yeah, long story short: I personally don't see Daryl deepening or growing around Carol. It's the same old.

Now, place him with a romantic interest like Connie...and damn, I could wax lyrical about these two. It rings so true. Developed so beautifully. I absolutely love their interactions. The way he is around her is beautiful to watch. And that goes both ways. The layers that are added given that Connie is deaf, Daryl is naturally quiet so it pushes him to be more communicative. She also totally blows the racist "Dixon redneck" shadow of Merle right outta the water. It's just...*chefs kiss*

Even Isabelle (Daryl Dixon spinoff) feels more enaging for me than Carol. How she is with him. The way he looks at her. How their worlds collide. What they go through in a contracted period, with a kid involved too, deepens him.

So yes, put Daryl with Connie or Isabelle and I see growth, challenge, spark, a more self-actualising character. With Carol, their history, their love, feels like comfort zones and safety (nothing wrong with that in and of itself, but it doesn't make for the dynamic I personally champion or engage with in fan ships). I like how he's pushed and somewhat tenderised (painfully or pleasantly) when he's with Connie (💖) and Isabelle. So no, I'm not a Carol fan. Once upon a time, I rooted for it but now I see them as family. Different strokes for different folks, right?

I'm just curious because i love how you write characters and would love to hear why certain pairings appeal more than others. Thanks (✿◠‿◠)

Aw! Thank you so much. 🥰 I'm hugely chuffed you enjoy the way I choreograph characters on my crazy stage. I hope I've answered your question...I could waffle on and on (probably have) so I'll spare you further ramblings. Of course, Rickyl is a pure fangirl dream of mine that doesn't touch on canon-verse (😆🥰), which Connie and Isabelle most definitely do. And I'm so here for it, for them, though I'd lean stronger towards Connie.

Thanks for the ASK, luv! 💖🫶🏼💖

#twd ask #twd daryl #daryl twd ask #personal ask on ships #ship asks #donnie #darylxisabelle #darylxconnie #connie #isabelle #darol ask #richonne #RickxMichonne #Daryl Connie #Daryl Isabelle #Rick Michonne

8 notes · View notes

stitchyblogs · 2 years ago

Text

Stitchy, How Do I Get Back into The Muppets?

Muppet memes are everywhere. They trend every time Brett Goldstein gets his hands on a microphone, or a British politician puts their foot in their mouth. Let the Muppets host the Oscars! Miss Piggy dumps Pete Davidson! Knives Out III! But, reader... it’s been a long time since you last hopped over to sip Lipton’s on Kermit’s lily pad, hasn’t it? And you kind of miss it.

I’m imagining you, dear reader. Not in a weird way or anything... I’m just being transparent about who I intend my audience to be, because I have Twitter poisoning. You know how it is, you rascal, you. I know, because I’m imagining you into existence! Let’s just go with it! Yeah, so- I bet you’re thirty something, low forties. You say ‘No worries!’ a lot, but you sure do have worries. How can you not? You’re way too online, but you hope to the Great Gazoo you’re pulling it off, looking merely casually plugged in, in public. You maybe don’t have kids, who've forced you to plumb the depths of Disney +, but you do have it, because you’re not immune to Baby Yoda and the bionic biceps of a one Bucky Barnes. Aside from that fatuous affair, you’re also in a ever evolving polycule with at least three streaming services, but they still aren’t *quite* delivering what you need from the relationship. You kind of miss being restricted to whatever 6 VHS tapes were in the TV hutch of your childhood home. If you’re too young for VHS, you at least remember having to mail actual disks back and forth with Netflix. You remember that once, practical effects were the only effects. You have taste! And curiosity! And heart! You tear up when you think about Mr. Rogers for too long, which is very sexy of you. Most importantly, dear reader, you appreciate a bit of cornball. You like a lil goof. A cheeky lil pun. A gag so cheap, the shopkeeper is looking the other way as you pocket it, secretly stoked to get it off the damn shelf already... Nobody’s looking, ya know. It’s okay to admit it! You like hokey jokes. In fact, you're spiritually wearing boxers with hearts on them right now, just in case. Not that I’m imagining you in your spiritual underwear.

Did I make it weird?

Shh, shh, it’s fine. I’m Stitchy, by the way! I am alllllll of these things too- it’s fine! Well, I’m not super into Bucky, if we’re being honest- which we are! Because we’re friends now! And you know, friends can ask each other embarrassing questions. Your question is the headline of this, so I won’t beat around the bush anymore. I’m gonna do you a solid. I’m gonna tell you.... How to get back into the Muppets.

Hey, wait! You sneak! You! That guy peeking over the shoulder of the reader I was just talking to. You’ve never seen any Muppets on purpose at all, and you’re hoping I can set you up, too? Ha! I knew it… Yeah, that’s okay. You can follow this list. I won’t rat you out, as long as you don’t tell Rizzo I said ‘rat’ in that context.

Muppet Immersion PART 1: The New Shit.

You’ve already seen the stuff that came down the pipeline in the 90’s. You Mnah Mnah’ed your butt off in your tender youth, and nowadays you still get a little confused when there’s only one Marley in non-Muppet Christmas Carols. You vaguely know that the good people at Henson Co. made post-Y2K projects, but you haven’t checked them out, because you had important, more grown up things to worry about, like curating your MySpace top eight. Then time got away from you. That’s okay, bud- because I’ve been on my muppetfrickin’ grind.

(One note: not all Muppet Materials are made with our age group in mind, and that’s okay! I’m sure Muppet Babies 2.0 has its moments, but we’re only looking at the slightly more mature pieces.)

1. The Muppets, 2011 (watch on Disney +)

They struck gold when tapping lifelong muppet freak Jason Segel to write and star in the Muppet’s comeback to the silver screen. With the expert musical-comedy midwifery of Flight of the Conchord’s James Bobin (director), and Bret McKenzie (music), a beautiful baby Muppet was born! It’s a classic tale of “We’ve gotta get the band back together and put on the best show this town has ever seen Or Else!”. The Or Else, if you’re wondering, is oil tycoon Chris Cooper’s plan to obliterate the Muppet Theater. Best work he’s ever done, I tell ya. Same goes for Amy Adams, who absolutely nails her role as the doting but levelheaded Mary, who’s fiancé is troublingly codependent with his Muppet brother, Walter. Oh, Walter. A wide eyed, whistling optimist, who deserves love and puppies and the whole entire world. In the words of Phil Spector (Yikes) to know know know him is to love love love him. A great entry point for returning, or newly budding Muppet enthusiasts. Highlights include the knock off ‘Moopets’, hostage Jack Black, and Muppet turned man Jim Parsons.

1.5 The sequel, Muppets Most Wanted, 2014 (also available on Disney +) doesn’t work for me. Seeing as it’s my guide to Muppet Immersion, I say you can skip it if you’re not feeling like another feature film, just now! My beef may not be your beef, though. (Too much Ricky Gervais, too much faux-Kermit, and not enough Walter... ((My soul will never be at rest until I understand why TPTB lost faith in Walter as the new audience surrogate. I can only hope Serial has plans to investigate.))) Maybe Muppets Most Wanted will work for you! Definitely DO NOT MISS the absolute feast of bops, again penned by Bret McKenzie:

1.5 a. “I’ll Give it To You”

1.5 b. The Interrogation Song, a thrilling double act by Ty Burrell and Sam the Eagle

1.5 c. We’re Doing a Sequel!

1.5 d. Something So Right featuring none other than powerhouse Celine Dion

1.5 e. Something So Right Demo Reel, because you need to have Bret’s Miss Piggy in your ears, too.

Whenever Piggy wears a hat with one lil’ ear out!? That’s the good stuff.

2. It’s time to play the music, it’s time to light the lights, it’s time to fire up the Baby Yoda machine to watch The Muppets, 2015. Confusing, yeah... It’s the same-named, but sadly short lived series, spun out from the success of the new films. The docu-sitcom format is a natural fit for the fourth-wall breaking Muppets. For the first time since 1984’s Muppets Take Manhattan, Kermit is solidly the leading man. We find him back in the studio, producing Up Late With Miss Piggy, amidst a flurry of Muppet interpersonal problems. As a quintessential Will They, Won’t They couple of the last half a century- it’s kind of incredible that the Muppet media that best portrays why Kermit and Piggy love each other is the one where they are very emphatically Did, But Don’t Anymore. It’s a refreshingly grown-up main story line! Aside from that- we all know C is for Cookie, but B is for B-Plots and running gags that absolutely slap. Fozzie’s beleaguered love life, Uncle Deadly’s wrangling of Piggy’s vast wardrobe, Scooter’s ongoing beef with his mother’s boyfriend, the meddling network president June Diane Raphael... I truly can’t get enough! Because they canceled it! Hmmph! And a pink satin heeled kick, and a hiiiii-ya!!

Anyway, the cameos and needle drops are expertly deployed, as fitting and offbeat as ever. I’m especially fond of Christina Applegate, Ed Helms, and Josh Groban’s appearances.

My absolute favorite episode, if you watch only one, is “Swine Song”. The network saddles Up Late With Miss Piggy with a brand manager who’s dead set on giving the show a face lift. Key and Peele, now reduced to running an Etsy shop after their own fiasco with the brand manager, feature.

I don’t know what happened, that we didn’t get more of The Muppets. Perhaps the 30 Rock-ification of the Muppets might have been more at home on a different network, with a different pool of veteran talents and sensibilities? Were we as a society just not ready in 2015 for a story about workplace friends, grounded by such sincerity? Eh, maybe. It’s no surprise Ted Lasso’s Bret Goldstein is one of the most vocal proponents for a Muppet comeback, with that in mind. Same niche!

If there is any justice in this universe… [clenches fist]

3. The Muppets Haunted Mansion, 2021, on Disney + is a welcome return to form after the platform’s first “exclusive” but paltry offering of Muppets Now (Don’t even... Don’t even bother to look…). Gonzo and Pepe challenge themselves to face their fears and spend the night in the spookiest place on earth, inspired by the beloved Disneyland ride. It’s great. If you’ve taken my advice this far and you’re still in, just. Just go for it. It’s 52 minutes. What else you got goin’ on? You’re elbow deep in some internet weirdo’s ramblings about a fifty year old troupe of talking socks.

Can’t get enough? Need to soak in hours more of puppety perfection?

4. The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance, 2019, Netflix. Not technically the Muppets TM, but absolutely a must see for a burgeoning Henson buff. Did you ever see the original 1982 film? Do! It’s rentable. The Dark Crystal is some high fantasy, live action, no humans, all puppet madness. It’s disturbing and strange and beautiful. An age old tale of corruption and ideals, told by some of the cutest, oddest little creatures you’ll ever see. (Deet and Hup!!!) And I mean. C’mon. The vocal talent! They didn’t even fit Bill Hader on the wiki cheat sheet, that’s how stacked it is!

5. Fraggle Rock: Back to the Rock, 2022, Apple TV. This one’s definitely made for the kids, but it’s exactly as lovingly rebooted as you hoped.

We’re getting down to some slim, definitely non mandatory pickings, now. Uhhhh…

6. Miss Piggy made an appearance on Drag Race!

7. The creature workshop whipped up some puppets for Coldplay’s Biutyful music video!

8. And here’s a half hour supercut of a bunch of ads featuring the Muppets, in the last fifteen years or so. It’s not entertainment, per se, but at the very least, you’ll see the Kermit Sipping Tea origin.

PART 2: Outside Readings

The road to your Masters in Muppetfrickery has been paved by many scholars. Here are a few peers whose work you might like to check out, now that you’re no longer a tadpole, but a fully grown frog, with hard cover books and podcast subscriptions, and junk!

Jim Henson: The Biography, by Brian Jay Jones

This book is exactly the comprehensive, compassionate deep dive you hope it is. Watch out, though! It did make me cry in an airport.

I Am Big Bird: The Caroll Spinney Story, 2015.

A feel good documentary about the man under the bird. Available on Prime, Peacock, and others.

Muppet Guys Talking, 2017

Five of the original Muppet performers discuss their iconic characters. Muppetguystalking.com

Street Gang: How We Got to Sesame Street, 2021.

You guessed it! A doc about Sesame Street, on HBO.

Defunctland has also done some stellar coverage of the Muppets, Fraggle Rock, and more!

Follow ToughPigs.com for a survey of what's up and coming in the various Henson adjacent worlds, and top tier curation of Muppet history. They have a podcast, too!

If you are lucky enough to live in NYC or DC, you can even see some Muppets in person!

Museum of Moving Image

The Smithsonian

PART 3: The Oldies!

Whatever Muppet movies you had access to as a kid- there’s a good chance there’s one you missed! Good news is there’s still time to play catch up- whew!

Stitchy’s TOP TEN of the pre 2000 canon:

1. THE MUPPET MOVIE 1979 (Disney +)

2. MUPPET TREASURE ISLAND 1996 (Disney +)

3. THE MUPPET CHRISTMAS CAROL 1992 (Disney +)

4. THE DARK CRYSTAL 1982 (Rent Only?)

5. LABYRINTH 1986 (Netflix)

6. THE GREAT MUPPET CAPER 1981 (Disney +)

7. MUPPETS FROM SPACE 1999 (Rent Only?)

8. THE MUPPETS TAKE MANHATTAN 1984 (Prime)

9. THE MUPPET SHOW 1976-1981*** (Disney +)

10. EMMET OTTER’S JUGBAND CHRISTMAS 1977 (Prime, Peacock)

If you’ve missed any of the top 5, BOY HOWDY are you in for a treat. Especially if you’ve never seen the original Muppet movie. I am on my hands and Always Conveniently Off Screen Knees, begging you to give it a shot. If it’s been decades- give it a watch with fresh eyes. It’s a sweet, simple, silly story about a frog who dreams of making people happy. It’s about art, and integrity, and joy, and friendship, and it’s just about the only place you’re gonna get Hare Krishna jokes, nowadays.

Of course, this list is just a start. There were quite a few obscure TV specials and series besides, but as they are very hard to track down on streaming, I won’t insist on their viewing. I do highly recommend the series Jim Henson’s The Storyteller, 1987-1989, however. These episodes are all self contained if you can dig one up on Google, and they are exquisite pieces of art. John Hurt stars as the gruff old Storyteller, weaving fantastical yet tactile folk tales that have stuck with me for decades.

***Sheesh! The Muppet Show is like, 44 hours of television. I can do better than just point you at it in its totality! That brings us to:

PART 4: Going Right to the Source.

It’s the OG. THE Muppet Show.

By all means, crack open that laptop and follow your nose! There are legends aplenty to pick from, and just about every one of the 120 episodes has a classic moment, somewhere in there. As you scroll through the many guests, I’m sure you’ll be drawn to such greats as Rita Moreno (This appearance is The E in her EGOT!), John Cleese, Julie Andrews, Bernadette Peters, Steve Martin, Elton John, Madeline Khan, Gilda Radner, the cast of Star Wars, and Carol Burnette. They all put on fantastic shows that are essential viewing, but I must also put in a good word for some personal favorites.

Paul Williams, one of the great American songwriters, author of The Rainbow Connection and many other classics

Vincent Price, your favorite creepy uncle, and mine. (That’s right! We’re not just friends, we’re also cousins!)

Avery Schreiber, who never ever holds back, and whose episode features the fantastic Electric Mayhem rendition of “Tenderly”.

Sandy Duncan, who’s “Nice Girl Like Me” is an unforgettable, leggy revamp of the Manilow classic.

Mummenschanz, who are impossible to describe, but who would have ruled Tik Tok.

Leo Sayer, serving up three of my favorite 70’s tunes.

Pearl Bailey, bringing down the house with a pastiche sure to delight any musical theater nerd.

Harry Belafonte. “Turn the World Around” never fails to bring a tear to my googly eye.

Linda Ronstadt, lacerating the ONLY live vocals in the history of the show, and also crushing so so hard on Kermie. Relatable af

PART 4: Looking Forward

(video)

And you may ask yourself, "What Muppet Am I?" And you may ask yourself, "Why are there so many songs about Rainbows?"

What should come next for the Muppets? I say, if Disney is gonna own everything and everypiggy, go whole hog! Make Kermit the Avenger’s new therapist. Maybe he’s outside their insurance network (and dimension) but they have great rapport! Give Piggy a real late night slot, and get Grogu on to host a remote segment! Keep making the kids their kid shows, but embrace the grown up Gen X and Millennial audience with their own fare. Get back to the Muppets Sex and Violence roots, I double dog dare ya! Make a Muppet dating sim! Reboot Statler and Waldorf: From the Balcony on Youtube! Hook up Lil Nas X with the Electric Mayhem! Stop dicking me around and get the Muppets to host the Oscars, for real! Bring back my best boy Walter, and take advantage of the Muppets’ unparalleled skill for literary adaptation. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Muppet is a story that demands to be told!

Well, we do know one new series on the way in 2023- The Muppets Mayhem. A junior record exec must wrangle the unwrangle-able Electric Mayhem through the modern music industry as they record an album. I don’t know about you, but I’m crossing my furry little fingers.

#the muppets #muppet immersion #kermit the frog

202 notes · View notes

butscrewmefirst · 1 year ago

Text

so of course our house has plumbing issues again. because of this, we're gonna be out a few hundred bucks (at LEAST), and we're already living paycheck to paycheck. i'm offering 250 icons for $10 a batch until next sunday (10/15/2023) to try and help offset any charges for this terribly timed house issue. if you're able to spare a few bucks and you aren't in need of icons, please send it HERE, i'd appreciate you so much and so would my partner. if you aren't able to send a few dollars, please consider reblogging this post! i don't want to receive something without also giving something, hence the icon offer (tho i'm also willing to do promos and icon templates if preferred). i really do hate having to ask for things overall, tho, but sometimes these things just can't be avoided. i appreciate you guys so much <3

edit: will have icons back to you within 24-36hrs after you message me (if not sooner)

#❛ out of character || … cannibal mother.#anything helps #literally anything #and we just went to walk in the pride parade today #and then come home to this #and the water is backed up into our shower / tub lol #and completely leaking from one of our toilets #this sucks dude.#we've got like 5 towels just #soaking up water the best they can lol #plumber still won't be here for another half hour #and my anxiety is through the ROOF

38 notes · View notes

triplesilverstar · 1 year ago

Text

Trying something new

Rating: PG

Pairing: Vash X F!Reader

CW: Body dysmorphia, half naked, talking about trauma

Word count: Roughly 1.7K

A/N: So this fic was the first one I posted in over a decade. Written and first posted while drunk before my nerves could get the better of me. This will always hold a special place in my heart for me sharing again, and writing almost 350K worth of fanfiction for Trigun as of today.

Turning the tap and watching as the water flowed ,you let out a shout of exhilaration, you were in luck and while this town was abandoned at least it still had working plumbing. “Vash, might not have temperature control but we’ve got running water.”

Today had felt like things were turning around regarding your usual luck, or whatever powers existed felt you and the blond needed a break. You’d found the abandoned town a few hours before the sandstorm that was being called for on Vashs’ little portable radio was supposed to hit. The town itself seemed small which is what led you to believe as the reason for its abandonment and the lack of a plant. Hell you’d even found some non-perishables stashed away and a pretty clean kitchen. Sure you’d have to set up an actual fire, but real cookware and dinnerware to eat off. A rare treat when you were out in the desert away from people. Now to top it off, running water.

A blond head popped into the doorway of the bathroom, causing a smile to grace your lips, his reflection the same. “The bedroom looks to be in pretty good shape too, the windows are boarded up so we won’t have to worry about that.” Flicking the taps off you followed him and let out a whistle of appreciation, it was a nice size bed, the linens were dusty but nothing a few whacks couldn’t get rid of. Plus you could just throw one of your sleeping bags over it for the night.

A few hours later, found the two of you sitting at a table, empty dishes in front of you and listening to the storm howl outside. Sometime between cleaning up the bedroom for the night and the two of you making dinner Vash had found a travel chess set, which was set up between the two of you.

“I think i’m going to have to concede defeat” resting your first against your cheek you grin at him. “I really have no plan for this comeback” scattered around his side of the board the bulk of your pieces are placed, long since removed from play. All you have are four of his pawns and a bishop.

“Well you are getting better, and no” he chuckled leaning forward to rest on his elbows “I didn’t take it easy on you. This time.” You laugh, leaning back and popping your back “you look good when you smile like that.” His voice is soft, tranquil, and it makes your heart melt.

Back in your original position you find an infectious grin tucking at your lips “I could say the same of you.” Catching his blue eyes, sunglasses next to his elbow “but then again I always think you look good” neck flushing crimson and averting his gaze to the open doorway. Grinning you stand and walk to his side of the table, reaching out to tilt his head back towards you. “Though, you look best with a real smile, and I don’t see those very often.” Bending down you watch his eyes close and lips part, and turn to the side and peck his beauty mark. Laughing at the pout that graces his features at the denial.

An idea flashes across your mind as you smile down gazing into his eyes “Wanna try something tonight?” While the two of you have been together for a few months now, having made the leap from friends to lovers, intimacy has been slow going and you’ve been understanding as the one with the experience. Poor Vash with zero and so easily flustered which to you is beyond adorable given his “Lady-killer” reputation and goofy persona.

“What did you have in mind?” the apprehension is swimming in those baby blues and you gaze down at him tenderly, thumb rubbing along his cheek.

“It’s a surprise, but nothing too crazy. You can change your mind at any time, Sunshine, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” You peck the corner of his mouth this time before looking bashful. “Well I kinda do, but that’s more the push your boundaries kind, not the I want what I want so you have to deal with it kind.” Returning your smile he nods, and lets you lead him up to the bedroom.

Once there you tell him to strip, moving the full length mirror you’d seen so it was closer to bed and making adjustments to it. His face is crimson as he darts for the bathroom to get changed in, light chuckles leaving you. While waiting you make a few final adjustments before stripping down to your own undergarments and sitting on the bed, feet dangling over.

At his reappearance minus everything but his underwear, you pat the bed in front of you “Come sit here, face the mirror” once he takes up position folding to make himself look smaller you send him a soft smile. Scooching closer you press your front to his back and adjust so you can see over his shoulder into the mirror, before draping a large towel you found across his front and your thighs encasing him. Some of the tension visibly leaves his body.

“Comfy?” a bob of his head, his locks waving is your only answer “you can quit anytime you want” reaffirming this is all his choice to continue or stop. “What I want you to do, is watch me in the mirror and listen to me” nose running along his shoulder you let your breath ghost over his skin, sending shivers across the muscles of his back, before pressing a kiss to his neck. “No closing your eyes, and no interrupting, unless you want to stop. Understand?”

He nods at you again, this time you shake your head “use your words baby.”

“Yes” a shaky exhale is all that follows his curt word. Grinning you lock your eyes with his reflection and press a kiss to his shoulder blade.

“Since I know you have your doubts” he flinches and opens his mouth to respond before closing it and swallowing “and you don’t always see it, I want you to see how much I love you.” Fingers ghost up his sides and over his ribs.

“I love your goofy grins, and the way they make your eyes crinkle” you do your best to let your face reflect your feelings, instead of being schooled in the usual look of disinterest.

“I love how much you trust everyone you meet, even though you shouldn’t” A hand ghosts back down his side to press against the scar tissue there.

“I love all the good you see in people, the hope you have for them” you leave it unsaid how you often find much of that trust and hope is misplaced. “I love how willing you are to risk your own life to save another” his breath is starting to slow, and his body is starting to unwind.

“I love all your scars, even the ones you’ve yet to share, because they remind me of your endless compassion.” Keeping your gaze locked you press another kiss to the nape of his neck.

“I also love your scars, because they’re the proof you’r alive and you’ve survived so much” there's a wetness beginning to form on his lashes, and you start drawing circles into his skin with your fingers, letting them dance across his scoured flesh.

“I love that sunny disposition you have when we’re being chased out of town by people and bandits after your bounty” mirth shakes his chest and you along with him.

“I love that beauty mark on your face, because I can’t imagine your face without it” an actual chuckle leaves him with that one and you run your nose along the shell of his ear.

“I love that since we’ve gotten together, you always press a kiss goodnight to my forehead, even when you think i’m already asleep” a rosy tint is starting to creep up his neck now and you smile all teeth, chin dipping into his traps.

“I love your hoop earring, and how it's easy to make you needy when I tug on it” he’s fully flushed now and his body is more than responding to your words.

“I love your prosthetic, and how at night it seems to glow from within” a sad smile graces his lips and a single tear falls. His eyes closing, you nip his ear to bring him back to the mirror and his eyes locking with yours again.

“I love…” you find yourself swallowing this time and a dampness on your own lashes “I love how you can forgive me for all the pain and suffering I’ve caused in my life when I’ve yet to even think to forgive myself” one of his hands reaches for your own to stop the patterns pressed against his skin.

You reach and grab his other hand, dragging it along his body until it rests over the metal covering that his heart beats beneath. “I love your heart, and how human you are, and how much of yourself you trust me with.” Even in the middle of nowhere there are words you won’t say, and the look in his eyes tells you how much they mean even left unsaid. He’s stopping trying to hold back, letting the tears flow freely down his face.

“I love you, Vash the Stampede, Humanoid Typhoon, and everything that comes with it.” You squeeze both his hands in yours, and close your eyes, peppering soft kisses along his shoulders.

“I love you too, my Stardust” you find yourself chuckling at the new nickname, letting his hands go and dropping your face to hide against his shoulder, though you both know he can feel the tears pooling there.

“Ready for bed?” your voice is hoarse from the tears you’ve shed, so much for following your own rules.

“Yea. Though I want to do this again sometime” he’s pulling away to stand and before you can he’s reaching back to wipe your tears away “but I want you to listen to me.” The kiss he presses to your lips is full of yearning, of passion and promises to come.

“Sure thing, my Sunshine.”

Back to the Masterlist for the series

#vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede #trigun stampede #trigun #twink writes #enimes to lovers #Bullets Bandits Ghosts & Typhoons #tristamp

29 notes · View notes

angelfoodcake222 · 1 year ago

Text

I made this post posing the question the read along the lines of "How would these characters react to their friend or S/O, Y/N, coming home after a big fight that made them temporarily forget about a prescheduled meet-up at their (Y/N's) place?" or something to that effect. Here's what I have for the selected individuals.

TW: The reader [that's you] gets into a big fight, mentions combat, blood, violence, & bandaging. Comfort at the end of each. Reader is in a dress on Mac's part for "Fabric in the Midnight Wind" effect~.

A/N (Author's Note): I'm labeling this as NSFW as it is dealing with violent elements. I'll make a traditional NSFW version if this one gets some traction via reblogs. Since there is a lot to read in one sitting, I'll sever this up to the Three Monkey Bois for now. On with the reading, enjoy.

Monkey Trio x Hurt!Reader

Sun Wukong, The Monkey King

Translation: "I have a way to make you truly confident!" 🫣 😳

>Boy! If you never live to see a single soul genuinely worry for your well-being, Sunny/Sunshine/Sundrop would be the lone beacon of an example you would ever think of.

>Hey was just chilling on your sofa, munching on some peach chips you had stored up for him, snug in a pile of blankets, pillows & plushies while awaiting your arrival.

>He came in a bit earlier to get y'all's movie night all set up so you could both relax, watch some movies (most are his own but they're from your collection anyway, being the 2nd biggest SWK fan right beside MK although Sun could argue who's who in that arena), then have a nice conversation before falling asleep on the amassed cushions while basking in each other's presence.

>The door clicked open before it screamed from your falling into the mudroom portion of the entrance, closing with just as much force as you close it with your foot. You grunt from your prone position into an uncomfortable kneeling one with a bit of effort just to be jump-scared by your simian companion.

>"What happened!?" "Why didn't you call me!?" "Who did this to you!?" "Your knuckles are redder than my scarf!"

>You settled your index finger over his mouth prompting his lips to zip together momentarily as you spoke lowly, your crimson essence oozing from somewhere just behind your hairline & over your face like a scene out of a horror film.

"Sunshine, Sundrop, Sunny, I love you & all, but I have the worst migraine imaginable right now & I'd greatly appreciate it if you could crank the energy down to a two for tonight. Please?"

>You try to stand but the shifting upsets the injuries to your leg & head causing you to falter shortly. Luckily, SWK has you covered.

>He sweeps you onto the softest cloud you could ever imagine & eases you the the bathroom where he helps bandage you almost to the point of mummification, only stopping when your wounds' blood flow does.

>The apology for forgetting about the meet-up was quickly fanned off as he stated that he was just glad that you were alive & had the strength to make it home.

>Without a moment to process movement, you were placed dotingly in the nest of new & old fabrics as SWK spoke with you about what happened unless you didn't want to talk about it.

>Either way, the night draws to a close with the two of you subdued by slumber & a plumbing adrenaline boost.

>At times like these, SWK wished he had Macaque's hearing so you would always be safe. Always.

•Bonus points if Y/N's eyes are bloodshot to such a degree that makes them match SWK in a macabre way, be it from fatigue, something thrown into their eyes, or even some cheap temple-based shots.

(((The Six-Eared))) Macaque

>>This one got out of hand & pocket for me, I apologize.

>Mans was so proud of you, that's a fact.

>For obvious reasons, Mac is a special case. Y'know, with him being nearly omniscient & all that to an uncanny degree.

>He heard it.

>No ifs, &s, or buts, he heard you struggling & portalled to the parking lot you had been ganged up into.

>When he got there, he couldn't move as he was watching you take the punks out left, right & center.

>Looks like you had been watching him closer than he originally thought.

>True, you learned his moves to a T, but there were many new moves he had not shown you nor did he learn of these moves until then.

>He couldn't resist sneaking closer, hiding in the shadows of light posts, the building the lot is connected to, even in the shadow of already fallen opponents just to watch you. Admire you.

>He had never seen you, his patient, doting, tiny slice of divine decadency, go absolutely feral on a pack of semi-post-pubescent punks before or on anyone or thing for that matter.

>You were rage personified; limbs snapped like malnourished celery stalks, punches to the torso forcing their knees to buckle lending to your own knee's task of colliding almost mercilessly collide with its target's face with a sickening smack, your nails digging into their now-exposed flesh as the battle left you with no other option but to strip the young adult males of their slivers of protection.

>All of this started just because none of them, not a single one, could or would take "No" as an answer to their sleazy, seedy, downright disgusting "generous offers" which led to them ganging up on you in the store's parking lot which escalated to the beating the few alpha-minded ingrates were receiving currently.

>They tore your dress up anyway, this angered you to the point of whooping them as Mac had bought that for you. It was a simple, comfy, modest dress to match your overall vibes, nothing skimpy or gaudy, but you were not pleased.

>In the heat of the fight, you had dropped the groceries you gathered just for your & Mac's night together; plums, sweets, a well-sized but not massive blanket to cuddle under, even a horror movie the two of you have been meaning to watch together for months up to this point.

>While you handed the last opponent's own backside to them on a silver platter, Mac sneakily gathered the miraculously safe items from beside your bicycle so as to not distract you from your feral focus & set them into the basket, simultaneously watching you send the remaining idiot whimpering off like the cowardly cockroach they were.

>Once you finish scolding the crawling mess now at least a few yards from you, Mac chuckled.

>"Mac!? How long were you standing there??" Your primordial bloodlust plummeted once your eyes landed on the lone trustworthy male as he stood under the flickering, stained light of the decrepit lamp post you parked under so far from the store because of a rude worker who threatened you far earlier. His smile sent rosey tones over your face.

>"Calm down, Sugar Plum. I heard you having a scuffle & came to help. Looks like you did a lot more studying than just watching me in the Dojo, huh?" That iconic smirk of his sent your soft pink face into a richer red that singed the forming bruise on your cheek & corresponding cut into an agitated throb. He leans to remove his cloak/cape, settling it over your shoulders as the chilly night air starts to reach through your heated skin.

>"Even though I think you look absolutely ravishing like this, I am still upset about those creeps touching you at all." You cock your not-so-sore brow at him. A smart comment was forming but wilted as you looked down, frowning at your garbs.

>Yes, you could sew it back together but it was the idea of the garb that Mac had searched & selected just for you that made you sad.

>"I could always get another dress for you." You shake your head at his kind offer before smiling.

>"& miss out on having tangible story markers? No way! These rips may look unseemly, but they are important & signify lessons well learned. I can patch 'em up, Mac. No worries."

>You welcomed wounds & injuries with torn fabric to boot over a few self-learned lessons? He should take a page or two from your book.

>His smile reflected yours, with all the warmth & kindness you've shown each other for nearly a year now.

>The walk through one of his portals, bike & groceries in tow, & into your home's front entrance area was probably one of the calmest moments of your day.

>Like SWK, Mac gathered plushies, pillows & the only blanket you had that wasn't washing right then onto your loveseat sofa.

>He tried brewing tea for you earlier but tripped & spilled it on the mound of blankets while trying to bring the whole kettle, sugar/sweetener & milk/cream to the softest place in the dwelling, leaving the current one being the lone survivor in the soaking accident.

>It was patterned with cartoon macaque monkeys chasing uncanny anthropomorphic bananas. Cute, though this was a gag gift from a relative of yours. You kept it anyway.

>While he bandaged your semi-dressed form, you worked on the dress after getting most of the blood out of its fabric.

>If he wasn't so busy trying not to bind your wounds too tightly or loosely, he'd be peacefully watching your needle pass through the garb's wounds as it pulled the thread behind it.

>The rest of the night was spent with small talk & cuddles, snacks, & a long-awaited horror movie you both giggled through.

>Slumber followed soon after the credits rolled in. Well, for you it did.

>Mac stayed up, watching your bruised, bludgeoned, slightly bleeding form's chest move as you breathed, your heart's recently rabid pace now slowed to its calmest rhythm.

>He made a mental note to dismantle each & every one of those creepers mentally & physically in due time, a devout note at that.

>For now, he rests his tail on you as his dreams follow his arms carefully curling around your tender body.

>Unmitigated dreams of a bloodied, armor-clad you wooing him Fabio style did little to calm his heart rate.

MK (Monkey Kid)

>He was slightly different from the two later seniors in terms of setup.

>He had the comfy setup but it was all around your coffee table where fun, colorful board games sat in their boxes with plates of apple slices, fruit salads & favored drinks & dips placed near it. Video games acted as a backup plan this time.

>The real meal was simmering on your stove.

>He even made a checklist & focused on it with all his heart & mind.

>He only got distracted twice! You'd be so proud of him once you came home!

>This is where MK is teetering between SWK & Mac; he was sitting patiently, doodling for a bit until he sensed something was off, like Mac.

>He chose Mac's route to head out & find you ASAP but was hindered by your limping shape stepping around the corner.

>He would have apologized for not watching where he was going if it weren't for you asking him why he was out this late all by himself.

>Cue the SWK reaction: "What happened!?" "Who did this!?" "Let's get you inside!" All of this was said in one compressed breath as he ushered you through the front door & onto the cushioned floor.

>He rushes to your bathroom to find the First Aid kit you always kept filled to the gills with life-saving tools. "Lifesaving" being defined as bumps & boo-boos by MK's racing mind.

>When he turns to see what you're giggling at, you catch his temple with your lips, smiling admiringly at his reaction.

>"My hero~." You compliment as he falls over in a plumb of blush, still gripping the bandages leading to your half-wrapped limb.

>He regains his composure enough to finish his task & hug onto you, only leaving to make your respective meals.

>The meals, drinks & snacks were delicious, the board games were simple enough. You both came to a tie on a racing game, calling a truce in trade of small talk on the gathered bedding beneath you two.

>Sleep was a slow-moving thing when you were with MK, his excitable energy was contagious & activated by anything & everything.

>You both randomly plummet into respite as MK dreams of a cheesy scene based on your complaint earlier.

A/N: OK, this was a bit short, but I'll be making more of this later. Mei, Sandy, Pigsy & Tang are next! Find my master list here!

Finishes one piece/part of a series. Five milliseconds later, me:

#prompts #writers on tumblr #mature #just thinking #reader insert #fanfiction writer #lmk mk #lmk sun wukong #lmk monkey king #lmk x reader #lmk macaque #lmk

53 notes · View notes

alisbackalleybbq · 2 years ago

Text

Puppy Love Chapter 5

I am just as surprised as you are that I actually finished Chapter 5 and that I’m posting it. Hopefully this motivation continues.

@northern-neighbor @optimisticfestpeach

TW: Fire, arson, blood, language of course

“I think this is the last of it,” Tim said as he put the box he was carrying down in Charlotte’s apartment. “Your house is officially cleaned out.”

It was a month after the preliminary hearing. Jeff voluntarily moved out of Charlotte’s house. Charlotte moved what she could into her apartment and put the rest in storage.

“Thank you for all of your help, Tim. You didn’t need to spend your day off moving boxes.” Charlotte smiled.

“I haven’t been able to check in with you since I got pulled into doing some undercover work so I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know the prelim took a lot out of you.” Tim responded.

“It did but I haven’t heard from Jeff since that day. My house is on the market and I can finally start trying to move forward.” Charlotte plopped down on the couch.

“What are you going to do first after you sell your house?” Tim asked, sitting down on the opposite side of the couch from her.

Charlotte let out a long sigh. “I have no idea.”

“You’re not going to look for a new place to live?” Tim couldn’t hide his disappointment.

“What’s wrong with where I live now?” Charlotte half-teased.

“Well, I guess…nothing if you like living with leaking plumbing and in the most unsafe building in California.” Tim rolled his eyes.

“This building is sa–” Charlotte started.

“If you say ‘safe’ I’m going to throw up.” Tim laughed.

“Sanitary?” Charlotte giggled.

“Please.” Tim shot her a look.

“Okay, okay.” Charlotte conceded. “It’s not the greatest.”

“I’d like to see you in a nice neighborhood, in a building with actual security guards.” Tim looked at his feet, afraid that if he looked at her, his eyes would give away his feelings for her.

“I could move into Fort Knox and still not feel completely safe.” Charlotte admitted.

“I really want to tell you that it’ll pass and that you will feel safe again but I don’t want to lie to you. I can’t tell you that you’ll ever feel completely safe again. You’ve been through a horribly traumatic event. It’s going to take time.” Tim laid his hand on her shoulder, locking his eyes on hers. “But I can promise you that any time you don’t feel safe, any time you’re scared, you call me and I will be there.”

“Thank you,” Charlotte smiled. “It means a lot to have somebody in my corner.”

“You have Jonah, Nathan, and Lucy as well.” Tim reminded her.

“I know and I appreciate them more than I can actually put into words. But, they coddle me. Which, sometimes I need. When I need somebody to metaphorically slap me in the back of the head and tell me to buck up, you’re the one I call.” Charlotte replied. “It’s refreshing.”

“I’m not sure how to take that.” Tim chuckled.

“It’s a good thing, I promise.” Charlotte assured him. Tim’s hand was still on her shoulder. Charlotte thought about saying something but she didn’t want him to break contact with her.

“I come bearing Mexican food!” Jonah chirped as he came through the door.

“Thank God! I’m starving.” Tim sighed.

It was 2 am when the sound of breaking glass woke Charlotte with a start.

“Charlie,” Jonah’s panicked voice yelled. Charlotte got up and ran to the living room where Jonah was scrambling to get the fire extinguisher working as the curtains started to catch on fire.

“What happened?” Charlotte asked.

“Somebody threw something through the window.” Jonah huffed out finally getting the fire extinguisher to work.

Charlotte pulled out her phone and called 911. The dispatcher advised Charlotte to alert her neighbors and to leave her apartment.

After Charlotte relayed that information to Jonah, he grabbed her hand and pulled her from the building, setting off the fire alarm on his way out.

“You need to call Tim.” Jonah said once they were out on the street.

Charlotte nodded, worrying her thumbnail between her teeth. Her finger hovered over Tim’s name in her contact list before Jonah tapped the call icon. He rolled his eyes at her. “It’s ringing,” he snarked.

“Charlotte? Is everything okay?” Tim asked, his voice full of worry and sleep.

“There was a fire in my apartment building.” Charlotte said.

“Are you okay?” Tim was fully awake now.

“Yeah, we’re fine. We’re just standing outside waiting for the fire trucks to get here.” She explained before Jonah grabbed the phone from her.

“So, no, we’re not fine. We were asleep and Jeff tried to fire bomb us.” Jonah’s voice was shaking.

“Jonah-” Charlotte started before he cut her off by holding his index finger up to her.

“No, Charlotte! Don’t play this off.” He glared at her before turning his attention back to Tim. “Tim, I was woken up by the living room window shattering. When I got out there, there was a clear bottle with liquid in it and a rag that had been set on fire coming from it. It caught the curtains on fire. We’re just fucking lucky that the bottle didn’t break.”

“I’m on my way.” Tim said before hanging up.

Jonah handed Charlotte back her phone and huffed a breath out of his nose at her.

“What?” Charlotte demanded.

“Why are you trying to play this off like it’s no big deal?” Jonah asked.

“We don’t know if it was Jeff.” Charlotte answered.

“The fuck we don’t. Who else is going to try to fire bomb us?”

“I don’t know, okay?” Charlotte practically screamed in his face. “But I don’t want to accept that we were almost killed tonight! I need some time to process this.”

“Process faster!” Jonah yelled at her. He turned and walked away.

“Where are you going?” Charlotte called after him.

“To cool off,” he wheeled around to face her, “because I get that you need time but this actually happened Charlotte! And I am scared!”

“I am, too,” she whispered to his back.

Twenty minutes later, Tim’s truck screeched to a stop behind one of the fire trucks on scene. He flashed his badge and made his way to one of the firefighters.

“What do we have?” Tim asked.

“Fire started on the first floor, apartment A7. Tenant tried to extinguish the fire before we got here but these old buildings, man. We’re lucky we got here when we did and that everybody was out of the building. There’s significant damage.” The firefighter replied.

“Shouldn’t the sprinklers have knocked it down some?” Tim wanted answers then he wanted to hug Charlotte.

The firefighter rolled his eyes. “They’re dummy sprinklers. Put in just to pass inspection. They don’t work.”

“How does that even pass inspection?” Tim was livid.

“Grease the right palms and it’s not hard.” The firefighter shook his head. “We did find what looks to be an intact Molotov cocktail in A7. Fire investigators will be in later to gather evidence.”

“Thanks.” Tim said and walked away, looking for Charlotte. He found her standing off to the side of the rest of the tenants huddled on the sidewalk. “Hey,” he said, putting his hands on her arms. He looked at her and tears formed in her eyes. He pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“This is my fault.” Charlotte whispered.

“No, it’s not.” Tim said. “It’s whoever threw that thing through your window’s fault. And I will find out who it was.”

“Tim, we both know who it was.” Charlotte said, breaking the hug and wiping the tears from her cheeks.

Tim nodded solemnly. “Yeah, we do. And I’m going to put that bastard back behind bars for as many counts of attempted murder and arson as I can get the DA to charge.”

“He’s not going to stop.” Charlotte shook her head. “He’s going to keep coming.”

“And I will be there every time he shows up.” Tim vowed. “He will not hurt you again.” He brushed her tears away with his thumbs. “Where’s Jonah? Let’s get you two back to my place for the night.”

Charlotte sniffled and gestured vaguely down the block. “He’s down there somewhere. We got into a fight.”

“Okay,” Tim placed a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll go get him. Stay here.”

Charlotte nodded. As she watched Tim walk away, she felt like he was the only one who could put an end to this nightmare.

“Jonah,” Tim called once he located Charlotte’s roommate in the crowd. “What are you doing over here?”

“I needed some time,” Jonah sighed. “Charlotte said we didn’t know it was Jeff and I was afraid I was going to lose it on her. She knows it was him and I don’t understand why she’s trying to downplay this.”

“She’s been through a lot,” Tim explained. “Sometimes it’s easier for victims to trick themselves into thinking that all this bad shit isn’t connected. It makes them feel safer.”

“Well, now I feel like a real asshole.” Jonah replied.

“Let’s get you and her out of here. You two can talk back at my place.”

Jonah nodded in agreement as he joined Tim to go get Charlotte.

“Charlotte,” Jonah called to her. She was standing with her back to him, her left hand pressed to her left ribs. “Let’s get out of here. It’s late and I’m cold.” She didn’t move.

“Charlotte,” Tim scowled at her lack of response. He walked faster and moved around her so he could face her.

“Tim,” Charlotte whispered, the color of her face extremely pale.

“What…” Tim put his hand on her shoulder in an effort to get her to tell him what was going on. Then he noticed the blood that was seeping out from her fingers that were pressed to her ribs. “I need a medic!” Tim yelled as he placed his hand over hers. He guided her to the ground, her back against his chest, his knees on either side of her, pressing his hand as hard as he could against her hand to try to stop the blood flow.

#tim bradford #tim bradford imagine #the rookie

66 notes · View notes