#the line 'oh yeah i fucked it up again seems to be an old recurring theme'.

[thegardengrows-infrozenrain]

this song makes me feel emotions about things

[randomshipperhere]

Can I SAVE Markiplier? Notes

You can find the vid in GTLive

I’ll be writing down stuff I found interesting. Also he should read up some theories on tumblr, 

Right off the gates he uses the darkiplier tag and I- you made me look Theory Crew. You got me smiling good from behind the screen with that.

It’s already been speculated but he confirms he’ll have more scenes in part 2. Also even if fans joked about there being a possible 3rd part, looks like we really will only have 2.

He likens his experience to the marvel actors where he’s a part of it but doesn’t really know much outside his role (don’t worry, we don’t blame ya)

The theorist brain is hard at work! He immediately took notice of the Invincible II

Being amazed at how smart Mark was in making sure they could cut on the cgi bits by closing the blast doors and laughs at the next line.

No Mat, the M2702 is just a reference to the tesla video. We also see that as his inmate number in heist. I’d be surprised if there was heavy lore implications.

Pam being a recurring character. Is going to take note of her. As he should honestly. Kinda surprised he didn’t make a wkm connection already from Mark and Celci’s first interaction.

Chica appreciation

He had to be in one of the cryopods for a while. Cozy and lots of smoke.

He thought Mick’s outfit was one of the coolest.

Cameraman appreciation! FUCK YEAH! More preesh! There was apparently a point where they had to use their teeth to carry it. God damn. Hmmm, are the head tilts or shakes done with the teeth cam?

He liked the lore door~ y’know with the whole don’t wake the captain notes. lmao he went the long route when he could’ve gotten there much faster. First routes truly are special. Timeline merging seems to be the most logical conclusion, he and I can agree on this.

Dang you lore enthusiast you missed it. Well, when theory crew makes his video I am so sure he’ll go through it again because you can’t just not talk about Dorene when talking about lore in part 1

Man I really didn’t watch everything because all these send Mark in options are so new to me and it makes me feel bad :) I am not going to send him in. Head engineer Mark is my cute puppy 🥺

Pam apparently had to have ice packs in her suit.

I can’t believe he paused and missed the Warfstache was here

Hey, he’s right in his assumption! It is like the box from Heist. More like it’s the same crystal

Do most people really do the jump in again option first time through? I’ve seen a lot of reactions to iswm where they do that.

Mat thinking that there's more to the loop reminded me of the tweet Mark did. Oh no he's fallen prey to it and he doesn't even know it!

He thinks Gunther is right in how someone may have tampered with the Invincible. You are correct sir. Old Man Mark has a few things to say about that

He thought Dorene looked like Future Pam :D That’s a score for you Pam=Dorene theorists because you got him on your side

Yeah Dark is reserved for part 2

He picked up on the “you always were stubborn” line. Good on you~

Actually if he's working on his theory right after there are a few things he has things he has to keep in mind. WKM AHWM Dorene route, the website, and Mark's latest videos. A few posts like the character dossiers too. Maybe even WMLW and Stan the water man if you want to stretch it out further. ADWM doesn’t have that much connection to part 1 for now outside of the date line and what we assume, Stan holding the romance and horror book (but that’s a part 2 spoiler).

[akaashioppa]

11:00pm

pairings: Mikey x reader 

summary: Sneaking out of you house with Mikey has always been a tradition of yours. You would always call it late date night...well not until you finally got caught.

warnings: curse words, arguing with your fictional dad. fluffy then angsty

w/c: 2.7k

Masterlist

“You got to hurry before I get caught, Mikey!”

“So what? I wouldn’t mind it.”

You were hanging from your bedroom’s balcony, Mikey was underneath you trying to brace your fall. He had his long tan arms in the air motioning for you to jump in them. After all the thousands of times, you did this it was still rocky. You and Mikey haven’t perfected the routine yet. You would think the more you snuck out of your own house you would have perfected it by now.

“Just jump baby…”

“We’re six feet in the air!” You shrieked out, You had your back facing him. Your attention was constantly going back and forth from Mickey and your bedroom door. The house was big enough that no one could hear what was going on but your older brother had a habit of coming into your room unannounced.

“I got you. Have I ever let you fall before?”

You thought back on the times that you were together. Not once has he ever put you in danger...well not intentionally but he would always protect you. You are always left unscathed from dangerous situations. “Okay, I’m letting go..” The cold feeling of the rail left your embrace, your feet were no longer planted on the other side of the balcony. You were free-falling six feet in the air. Your eyes remained closed until you felt his muscular arms around your body.

“I told you that I got you.” You opened your eyes to see his soulless black eyes that you admired so much. That iconic smirk that you loved was as well. ‘Why is he so perfect?’

“Come on, we’ll be late.”

After gracefully putting you on your feet, you both ran in the direction of his bike. It was too loud for him to pull in your driveway so he tends to park down the street so your parents wouldn’t awake from his engine roaring.

Mikey helped you onto his CB205T. It was his favorite bike out of all of them. This was the only bike of his that he would never let you drive. You would beg him to let  you drive it but he would say ‘I don’t want you getting hurt.’ You rolled your eyes at the thought.

He placed his old helmet on your head, tying it tightly, he gave you a small pat on the head. You smiled sweetly back at him, he was so cute and kind. It was the small gestures that he did that made you fall even more in love with him.

Mikey sped off towards the destination. He never told you where you were going, he only said get ready by 11 pm and don’t ask any further questions. Lately, this has been a recurring event, Mikey has made it your thing. He’d pick you up, drive around on his bike for a few minutes so you both could see the city lights then he would take you somewhere random. It always ends up being the best night of your life. 

“Hey, we’re here.” You lifted your head from his shoulders blades, It was your way of keeping things from flying into your eyeballs. You were in an abandoned parking lot which was odd, there was no human activity, barely any street lights, however, there was a great view from where you stood. This abandoned parking lot was above a cliff, it leads out to the city of Tokyo.

“Wow, this is amazing.” 

“I found it and thought you would like it. You can see everything from this view. If you look towards the right you can see the cherry blossom trees. They’re in season.”

“Really!?” You took a look towards the right, there were rows of cherry blossom trees lined up with small humans taking pictures. A river not too far away from the trees, it was filled with the petals of the cherry blossoms. “That’s so freaking beautiful. How could such an anti romantic be romantic?”

You caught him rolling his eyes, he threw a quick yet soft jab in your ribs. 

“You’re annoying,” he muttered out. Although it came out dry you knew he would never call you that intentionally. 

“You love me don’t ya.”

You grinned from ear to ear waiting for him to acknowledge what you said. The thing is he didn’t, he kept his attention on the people down below. This didn’t stop you from cheesing like an idiot though. 

He scoffed, rolling his eyes simultaneously. You wouldn’t allow that grin to disappear. You kept it on your face even when Mikey turned to look at you.  “If I say yes will you stop teasing me?”

“Nope.”He reached out grabbing you around your waist. He swung you around making your legs swing in every other direction. You begged him to stop. The amount of laughter that you were crying out helped make a cramping sensation in your stomach.

He finally put you down after spinning you around. After calming down for your “game” You both walked back to the edge watching the cherry blossom trees.

You placed your head on his shoulder, his arms snake around your waist pulling you in closer. You didn’t retreat, you only placed your hands around his neck. “Hey, don’t you think it’s crazy how many people live in our city? Out of all those people I managed to find you.” You mumbled into his neck.

“That was so cheesy.” He snorted out,  he ruined the moment which earned him a jab in the ribs. “Wait here me out. Maybe it’s the university trying to tell us something.”

“What if it’s just a phase? Who says we won’t grow apart?”

You felt him squeeze you tighter against him, “Then we’ll just grow apart. If it’s meant to be, we'll see each other again.” 

There was a silence cast around you two. Mikey released you from his grasp, You leaned over the railing to take in the view. Everything was going so well tonight. You felt Mikey’s arms wrapping around your waist again, he turned you around so you were both facing each other. That cheeky smile that he always wore was evidence that he was happy, he was living in the moment right along with you.  An outburst of laughter erupted from both of your lips, you still were in each other arms but you couldn’t seem to stop laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“I just realized that I’m in love with someone. How bizarre is that?”

“I lo-”

Your sentence was cut short, the vibration in your pants pocket made all of the blood drain from your face. You reached down to pull out your phone, the screen read ‘dad’. You didn’t answer it, you only let it ring.

“Fuck! I have to go home. We have to go now!”

Mikey stood there with a blank expression on his face, you snapped your fingers in his face to get his attention, shoving your face in his phone to see who called you. 

“What’s going on? Who was that?”

He grabbed your phone from your hand so he could get a clear look at your screen. By you shoving the phone in his face he could barely see the name on the screen. The only thing he did was say “oh” and left it like that. He shoved his hands in his pockets with a nonchalant attitude.

“Why are you just standing there!? Come on Mikey!”

You tried pushing him towards his bike, he only stood there holding his ground. His hands were still in his pockets as he did you. 

He sighed, “What’s the difference? You’re already out past your curfew, what's a little more hours.”

“Are you crazy!” You screeched, “It was my dad! We have to go!”

For the second time of the night, a cast of silence was between you two. The only thing that was heard was your heavy breathing from yelling at him and the traffic from down below. Mikey still had that blank expression on his face until he smiled.

“It was a joke. Come on, I'll get you home.”

“Manjiro Sano!!”

Mikey grabbed your hand making your entire body jerk forward, “You better hurry before you’re late.” His laughter filled the air, it made you feel a little better. Mikey helped you get safely on his bike before doing the same with himself. He let the engine pur twice making your heart beat along with the engine.

“You ready?” He looked back at you with a smirk on his face. He licked his lips a little before making his engine roar a little.

“Yeah.”

He sped off into the night dodging cars nearly crashing into them. Mikey was a great driver and very cautious. He just tends to get wild at times. Sometimes you think he forgets that you’re on the back of his bike. He’s always zoned out when he drives, it’s like he was in his own little world. 

It didn’t take long for you to get home. The word speed limit was not in Mikey’s dictionary. Mikey turned off the engine of his bike. You were down the street from your house, you could clearly see the light in the living room. You cursed silently under your breath, “I’m so screwed.”

“Just climb into your bedroom window and pretend to be asleep. If he asks why you didn't pick up your phone, say that you were asleep.”

“Okay, what if that doesn’t work?”

He glanced back at you with determination in his eyes, “Then call me.”

“Yeah, I like the first option better.”

Mikey stood back watching you as you ran in the direction of your house. You ran to your window just staring at it. It was six feet in the air so your only option was to climb the tree and somehow jump from the tree to your balcony. 

You began to climb the big oak tree in your yard. Mikey tried to help you from down below. He stood there with his hands on his hips smiling up at you. “How’s it going up there?”

“Well you know I’m just hanging around.”

You both cracked up at your corny joke.

The only thing left to do was put your foot on the balcony while balancing yourself on the tree. Mikey stood down below with the same stance, he was making sure that you did not fall. You silently counted in your head before throwing yourself onto your balcony. You tumbled a little, some bruising was definitely going to be there in the morning.

“Did you make it!?”

You used the wooden poles on your balcony to help you pull yourself up. Mickey was still down below but now hiding behind the big oak tree. You gave him a thumbs up, he smiled back in return, running leaving you behind with the situation up ahead.

“Welcome back” You didn’t even take a step into your room and your dad had already slid the door open scaring you half to death. He slid the balcony door open further allowing you to come into the room. “Why didn’t you tell your boyfriend to come in for a snack?”

You made your way to your bed wishing that you could shrink down into a little ball. The sarcasm in his voice didn’t make it any better. Your dad was pissed, the vein that was protruding from the side of his forehead looked like it was going to pop. 

“Uhh, he’s shy.” You gave your dad a dry chuckle but stopped when he shot you an ugly glare. He sat down in the chair in front of your bed with one of his legs over the other and one of his hands pressed against his forehead.

“How did you guys meet!?”

“At school dad.” You mumbled, he was already starting to yell. 

“How!? I sent you to a private school.”

You almost laughed in your dad’s face, the memory of meeting Mikey was always funny. It was a running joke in your relationship. 

“Well, Mikey came into our classroom to fight our teacher. BUT! He had a good reason. Mikey was driving his bike when Toka-san almost ran him off the road. Mikey followed him to school and beat the living shit out of him. I thought it was hot so I approached him and the rest is history.”  

“What’s the matter with you?” He shot out of his chair waving his arms in the air. “Why would you want to date someone like that!? You’re an (L/N), live up to that name. Don’t be a fucking disappointment.”

You scoffed at your dad. This time you made it audible for not only him to hear but anyone else that is listening. “Dad, that's rude!”

“I don’t want you ever classifying yourself as one of them. He’s a delinquent, a gangster, you have more class than that. You can find someone better than him. I will not have my daughter running around here with a delinquent.”

“He’s not a delinquent!”

“Then what is he!?”

You ignored his question. You didn’t want to answer it. You knew that Mikey classified himself as that but to you, he was much more than what people portrayed him to be. These fucking millennials and their biased opinions. You were not going to let him bash your boyfriend and get away with it.

“He’s Mickey Sano. You shouted, you jumped off of your bed so now you were facing your dad eye to eye. “He’s much more than a delinquent or a gangster. He’s a human being so start treating him like one. Oh and if you’re going to label him at least label him right. He’s much more than a delinquent, he’s actually smarter than what you make him out to be.” 

Your dad sat back down in his chair. This allowed you to look down on him but then it hit you. You were never this confident, You...standing up to your dad. Just wait until Mikey here’s about this. All of those conversations about boosting your confidence have paid off. 

“Yeah alright keep believing that. He’s only here for one thing and one thing only (Y/N). Once he gets that he’s out of here.”

Jokes on you he’s already got it and look, he’s still here.

You didn’t say that to your dad, you knew he would only blow up in your face more. Then lecture would then cause your entire family to get dragged in. He would go on a manhunt to find Mikey and “kill him.

“Okay, dad, whatever you say.”

You grew tired of all of this back and forth with him. You weren’t going to argue with him anymore, so you sat down on your bed awaiting the next thing he had to say.

“If I catch you out with him again I’ll treat you like a real princess and lock your ass up here for the rest of your life.

You scoffed out loud for him to hear, the vein in his forehead was now back more evident than before.

“I knew I was going to get in trouble but dad, punishments are temporary, memories are forever. So while I’m grounded I’ll be thinking about how good he has been to me while you have been treating me like trash.”

“That’s it you are grounded until next summer.”

“Okay, dad.” You mocked out.

 “One more thing if I catch that Mickey, Micheal-” You cut him off, “Mikey, his name is Mikey.” 

Your dad rolled his eyes, he walked to the door opening it. Half of his body was already outside of the room. You were wishing he would just put his whole body out there and leave you alone.

“If I see that Mikey boy around here again I’m calling the cops.” Your dad stood there for a second before closing the door. Once alone you throw your head in your pillows.“Snitch.” You mumbled.

He came back into the room with an irritated look on his face. His eyebrows were so close together it looked like they were about to merge. “What did you say?”

You tried your best to keep your laughter at bay but you couldn’t help yourself. “Nothing.” You snorted out. He stood there with the same expression, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You were about to burst out in a laugh. You waited for your dad to leave the room so you could laugh at the way he looked at you after you called him a snitch.

[raspberryfingers]

The Changing Room (Pt. 2 of The Exercise Room)

Warning: NSFW

Clarice was asleep. She was dreaming.

Not of the lambs.

Of him.

For the past month it's been her most recurring dream.

The line on the floor, the sound of his handcuffs and his moans. Her saliva, the lipstick on his stomach.

Good girl, Clarice.

She doesn’t know whether or not she likes the dream. It’s better than the lambs, but worse.

It’s torture.

She woke up, swallowing and turning over to see the time.

1:24 AM.

Groaning, Clarice laid back.

She hadn’t told anyone about what happened that day. She can’t, after all how could she?

‘Hey Mr. Crawford, so about Doctor Lecter, the thing is, I gave him a blowjob when I was supposed to be interviewing him! Yeah, that’ll go great,’ she thought to herself.

She hadn’t seen Hannibal since that day.

God she wanted to see him again.

But, there was no acceptable reason to, and it’s not like she was going to go up and ask Mr. Crawford to talk to him.

‘I could go as a private citizen. But I have nothing to ask him, no discussion topics, and I can’t allow myself to go in and seem like I just want his conversation.’

Clarice sighed, shaking her head. She should sleep, she had work tomorrow.

Plus, she could visit Hannibal in her dreams.

——

When Clarice arrived at work, everyone was gathered in the break room, watching the TV.

Clarice peaked in.

The announcement headline shocked her.

New doctor at Baltimore State Hospital embezzling funds.

‘Hannibal. Oh my god,’

She immediately felt nervous. What did this mean for him? Would he be moved somewhere else?

If the new directors had been so corrupt, had he been living in bad conditions?

Millions of thoughts ran through her head.

‘Who’s running the place now?’

“Barney Matthews, nurse at Baltimore State, is temporarily taking over until further notice.”

‘Oh thank god. I trust Barney.’

“Starling!”

Clarice turned back, along with a few other curious agents.

Crawford was standing there, arms crossed.

He motioned his finger for her to come.

“Yes Mr. Crawford?” She asked quietly, following him as he walked off.

“With all the crap happening at Baltimore State, I’d like to send an agent down to make sure everything is still handled properly. With Lecter there, we can’t afford any slip ups. I need to be able to give a press statement saying despite all this that he’s still being watched with due diligence,” he said, sighing and nodding at the other people they walked past.

“But sir, what if he’s not?” She voiced her concern out loud. They were in his office now.

“Then he gets moved somewhere that will give him the proper attention he needs. Hopefully it doesn’t come to that, because having him close by is helpful, but we’ll do what we have to. I’d like you to go up there as soon as you can. You’re familiar with the place and the people working there. Just ensure everything is being run properly,” he said, rubbing his eyes and grabbing his coffee from his desk.

“Yes sir, I can leave right now, if you’d like me to,” she offered.

“That would be best. Thanks, Starling,” he said, giving the best smile he could manage and sitting down in his chair, exhaustion evident on his face.

She nodded, leaving the room immediately.

Part of her was overjoyed, and yet also terrified.

Terrified she had to visit on these terms, but overjoyed she’d see Hannibal.

She speeded to Baltimore, thankfully avoiding a ticket.

When she pulled into the parking lot, dozens of reporters were trying to get in.

‘Fucking Tattler,’ she thought, walking towards the entrance. They seemed to notice her after a moment.

“Is that Clarice Starling?”

“Miss Starling!”

“Agent Starling!”

“Are you here for Lecter?”

“Miss Starling, what's going to happen to Hannibal?”

She pushed past them all, flashing her credentials to the security at the door, she was let in.

It was surprisingly calm. Everyone seemed to just carry on as usual.

Clarice made her way to Dr. Chilton’s old office, finding Barney inside.

“Hey, Barney.”

“Agent Starling! I’m surprised to see you. Did you call? Are you supposed to meet with Doctor Lecter?” He asked, frantically looking through some files.

“No! No, not at all. I’m sorry I shoulda called. I uh, well Mr. Crawford sent me to check in on things. He just wants to make sure Doctor Lecter is still being handled properly,” she said, smiling to try and ease Barney’s nerves.

“Oh I see. I’m happy to show you down there, I just need a moment. I barely got promoted this morning walking into work. Everyone was a bit nervous at first, I think after we sorted it out we all just went on as we would,” he said, sighing and laughing slightly.

Clarice nodded.

“How did they come to the decision of you?”

“I don’t think anybody else wants to be in charge of Doctor Lecter.”

They shared a laugh, walking downstairs to the dungeon.

“I put the orderlies I trust most in charge of watching the cameras, they’re diligent folks. Wouldn’t have put half wits in charge of caring for him. They know to be respectful,” he explained to her, briefly waving and opening the gates.

“Would you like to see him?” He asked after a moment.

Clarice tried to hold herself together.

“Y-Yeah, sure, I’d appreciate that. Just to make sure everything’s in place, you know?” She said a bit nervously, smiling to play it off.

Barney smiled knowingly.

“You got it, Clarice.”

She watched the gate close and started walking down.

Hannibal was lost in thought, but upon hearing a familiar sound, he was instantly brought back to the present.

‘Clarice?’

His nostrils went wide.

He had to be sure.

Hannibal sat up on his cot, standing and approaching the glass.

He looked out, and the beautiful brunette approached him.

“Good morning, Doctor Lecter.”

“Good morning, Clarice.”

His voice was calm, but he felt anything but. He was overjoyed to see her again.

She felt exactly the same.

He eyed her up and down. She was in a nice pair of pants and a turtleneck. She looked lovely.

“You look beautiful today, Clarice,” he complimented, folding his hands behind his back.

She felt her cheeks flush.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“What brings you here this time? Did I unknowingly commit another murder?” He joked, grinning at her.

She held back the urge to smile.

“It’s about the director, or the ex director I should say. I’m sure you’ve heard,” she said, smoothing her pants and sitting down.

Hannibal sat too.

“Ah yes. Not the most organized young man,” he said, crossing his legs.

“I feel compelled to ask, did he harm you at all?” She said, overwhelming concern flooding her eyes.

“No. No, this one did not. His embezzling thankfully has not affected me. Meals remain just as distasteful as before. I am hoping Barney will change that during his temporary reign,” he informed, which made Clarice smile.

Only Doctor Lecter could complain about food after the hospital director had embezzled it’s funds.

“Do you think Barney’s capable?”

“Is that why you’re here, truly, Special Agent Starling? To ask my opinions on such topics?”

She sighed.

“Jack Crawford sent me to make sure everything was under control and you were still being watched sufficiently,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

“I see. He wanted to make sure the dog stayed in it’s cage even when the owner wasn't home.”

Clarice let him see a flash of sympathy, and then she composed herself.

“But it gave me an excuse to see you,” she said, almost too eagerly. Hannibal decided not to tease her for it.

Instead he smiled.

“We’ll get to that in a moment, Clarice. First, tell me, if you felt I wasn't being watched sufficiently, what would you have done?”

Clarice thought about it for a moment.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

“You wouldn’t have told Jack Crawford? Not even at the risk of me escaping? How fascinating, Clarice. You are truly unpredictable,” he decided.

“It’s not like that. If… you weren’t being watched properly you were gonna get sent to a different hospital or prison. I guess I didn’t want that,” she said, looking at her hands.

Hannibal went silent for a moment. He hadn’t realized that. Of course it made sense. They couldn’t risk him escaping.

“I see. I admit, I don’t want that either, Clarice,” he said, his gaze softening. If he was moved he’d never see her again, and it was likely with the absence of Barney, his treatment would be much worse.

“To answer your question from earlier, yes, I do believe Barney to be capable. Much more so than his predecessors,” he noted.

“I got that feeling too.”

They both paused for a moment, all kinds of tension hanging in the air.

“Are we going to discuss our previous relations, Special Agent Starling?”

“It would be wrong to.”

“But I know you’d like to. Tell me, Clarice, do you think about it often?”

She sighed, looking away for a moment.

“I dream about it every single night.”

“Do I make you horny, Clarice? Be a good girl and answer honestly.”

Her face went bright red at the mentioned nickname.

She looked down the hall, biting her lip before looking back at him.

“Y-Yes..” she whispered softly.

His heart skipped several beats.

“I must admit, Clarice, my hand is a poor substitute for you,” he replied, smiling at her.

“We shouldn’t discuss it, Doctor,” she said.

“Mm, no, probably not, but we will.”

She prepared herself for what was coming.

“I can admit, Clarice, you have plagued my dreams as well. And naturally, you have also plagued my reality along with it,” he said, stepping forward and pressing his hand to the glass.

Slowly, she did the same.

“Hannibal…” she whispered softly.

He smiled at her.

“Truly a shame you don’t visit more often, Clarice. I’d love to see you,” he said, staring into her eyes.

“Jack Crawford never has any reason to send me up here. I wish I could see you every day. Talking to you is nice,” she sighed, dropping her hand.

“Tell Barney you need to come back for a follow up. Come back next Monday at 3:00-4:00, those are my exercise hours,” he instructed.

“I will. I will,” she said, swallowing.

“Please do, Clarice. My existence is so utterly boring and lonely without you. Perhaps If we’d never met, being in here wouldn’t be such a punishment. It is truly hard knowing you are outside of my reach,” he said, eyes as sad as she’d ever seen them.

“If only you’d made different choices,” she said, leaving it up to his interpretation.

“If I’d made different choices we wouldn’t be talking right now,” he shot back.

She supposed he was right.

She saw the time on her watch.

“I’ll be back next Monday, Doctor Lecter,” she said.

“Back to Doctor Lecter, am I?”

“Calling you by your first name is hardly professional.”

“Oh? And performing fellatio was?”

Her face went red.

“I’m not discussing this further.”

“Very well, Special Agent Starling.”

“I’ll see you next week, Doctor.”

She made her way down the hall, but stopped at the sound of his voice.

“Clarice!”

She turned, holding his gaze.

Smirking, he winked at her.

“When you visit on Monday, wear a skirt.”

——

“Mr. Crawford, respectfully, Mr. Matthews is qualified.”

“He’s not even a real Doctor, Clarice.”

“Neither was Dr. Chilton, sir. His credentials were fake.”

Jack Crawford signed, rubbing his head and sitting on his desk.

Clarice had just reported back, and she was desperate to prove her case.

“You really think he’s capable of running the place?”

“Based on what I saw today, yes I do. I mean, we’ll see how things are in a week, but I feel pretty confident in his abilities, sir.”

Crawford nodded.

“I trust your judgment, Starling. What time are you going on Monday?”

“3:00, sir.”

“Alright. Sounds good.”

——

Clarice smoothed out her skirt.

Her legs were close to shaking.

She couldn’t help but wonder what Hannibal had planned.

A packet of condoms sat in her purse, just to be on the safe side. Though, If push came to shove, she wasn’t sure she’d want to use a condom anyways.

She was already on the pill as it was.

Clarice stepped into the building. Barney was talking to the desk lady, laughing and nodding his head.

He turned at the sound of the door opening.

“Agent Starling! Glad to see you,” he said, shaking her hand.

“Glad to see you too, Barney. You’ll walk me through again and then I’ll speak with Doctor Lecter?” She asked, smiling.

“Of course, come on.”

It took them about 15 minutes to walk the whole hospital through, and Clarice was more than happy with what she saw. Patients looked genuinely happy.

“You’re doing a good job, Barney. It’s nice to see these folks happy for a change,” she said as they walked towards the dungeon.

“I like helping them, what can I say?”

They made their way down, and Barney motioned for her to wait a second.

He talked with the orderlies for a second.

“Clarice, I’m so sorry, they just took Doctor Lecter for a shower. I knew you were coming, shoulda told them to take him in earlier, but it slipped my mind. He just got in about 10 or 15 ago, so it’ll be around 20 minutes, I hope you don’t mind,” he apologized.

Clarice nodded, secretly disappointed she wouldn’t be meeting him in the exercise room after all.

“That’s quite alright. I don’t mind waiting,” she said, giving her best smile.

“Alright, come on, we’ll go head over. You can wait outside the changing room. I’ll be back in 20. I usually bring him out myself when I’ve got the time. Everyone else gets too afraid but it’s easiest to just put his mask on and cuff him,” Barney explained, laughing softly.

Clarice nodded, sitting down.

Barney handed her a walkie-talkie.

“Trust you know how to use these. Should anything come up just press the button,” he said, smiling.

“Thanks, Barney. I’ll be waiting.”

He nodded and walked off.

She sighed.

So much for the nice panties she’d put on after her shower this morning.

Suddenly, the door to the changing room opened.

She jumped.

But it only took a few seconds for her eyes to discover something quite pleasant.

Hannibal Lecter stood there, toned, wet, and dripping as he held a towel over his crotch.

“Ah, Clarice. You’re not quite the person I was looking for, but I’m happy to see you,” he winked at her.

She averted her gaze, not wanting to look out of respect. Hannibal made no further efforts to cover himself.

“B-Barney said you’d be another 20,” she stuttered, clearing her throat. Her face was burning.

“Ah, I see. Yes, usually I take longer. I knew you were coming so naturally I was a bit quicker than usual,” he noted, running a hand through his hair to slick it back.

Clarice liked it all messy and wet, she noted.

“Uh, what do you even do in there for 30 minutes? That’s how long I take and you don’t have nearly as much hair as I do,” she said, looking at the ground.

“When you’re in a filthy cell all the time, soaking in the water for unnecessarily long feels quite nice,” he said, scanning her.

She’d worn a skirt.

“Can you- Can you go change or something? This is very distracting when I’m trying to talk to you,” she said, her eyes involuntarily looking at his body again. He did not move, but he tied the towel around his waist.

“Yes, or something. You wore a skirt, Special Agent Starling, and Barney won’t be back for another 20 minutes. We could have some fun,” he said, grinning at her.

‘Don’t do this, it’s wrong. Have some self respect, Starling.’

Her eyes flicked back to his form.

‘God, he’s built like a fucking god. Imagine the sheer power- no, don’t go there. But his dick is fucking huge… nobody has to know.’

She stood, leaving her purse on the chair.

Slowly, she approached his figure in the doorway.

“We have to be quick..” she mumbled.

He grinned.

The door to the changing room was shut in an instant, and she was pressed against it.

“What do you want, Special Agent Starling?” He teased, his eyes scanning her face. Fire burned in his eyes.

His hands met her hips and she felt like melting.

“You.. I want you, Hannibal,” she whispered.

His head moved to her neck, his breath against her.

This was the first time she’d been with him completely unprotected. Adrenaline shot through her. She realized she didn’t care.

“Mmm, and what do you want me to do, Clarice? There’s quite a lot of options,” he said, licking her neck.

She let out the slightest noise.

“Fuck me.. I need you to fuck me.”

She let it slip from her mouth, arousal hitting her full force. She needed to have him.

“Only if you say please, Clarice. Be a good girl and use your manners.”

He began sucking at her neck, and It sent shivers so intense up her spine that she was forced to grip his bare shoulders.

“Please, please. Please fuck me, Hannibal,” she whispered.

He smirked, content.

“Good girl.”

His hands eagerly went to slipping off her jacket. He continued to undo her shirt as he pressed against her.

“Normally, Clarice, I’d let you keep your clothes on. However, I feel we’re going to need a bit more freedom than your outfit today has allowed,” he said, licking her collarbone as her shirt came off.

Her lace bra caught his eyes.

“Or perhaps you were prepared to be undressed anyways.”

She blushed, and he picked her up.

The changing room had wooden benches, which Clarice guessed were about to come in handy.

Ever the germaphobe, though perhaps not uncalled for in this situation, Hannibal grabbed an extra towel from the shelf, laying it down as he held Clarice entirely with one arm.

His raw strength turned her on even more.

He placed her on the towel, unzipping her skirt and pulling down her stockings.

“May I?” He asked, always one for explicit consent.

“Yes,” she said, breathless.

He smiled, removing her skirt.

She was only left in her underwear, as her shoes had been tossed off somewhere in the process.

Hannibal seemed to be in a trance as he looked at her, nearly naked and sitting before him.

“You are beautiful, Clarice.”

She blushed, her lips parting. She was unable to speak, too overwhelmed.

He reached for her bra, undoing it and sighing in pleasure, kneeling before her and letting his hands cup them, his fingers playing with her nipples.

She bit her lip, the feeling of his rough, warm hands clouding every thought.

He lowered his head, taking a nipple in his mouth.

She gasped, her hands in his damp hair.

“Hannibal…” she whispered in pleasure.

He stood again, smiling.

She did not hesitate to reach for his towel.

He stood before her, fully naked and hard as she’d ever seen him.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

Clarice was in shock.

He smirked, feeling her eyes.

“Admiring, Clarice? Don’t be shy. It’s not a museum, touching is allowed too,” he flirted.

She smiled, looking up at him as she reached for his penis.

She wrapped her hands around his hard length, rubbing slowly. He groaned softly, leaning down and removing her underwear. They were both completely naked.

“As much as I enjoy this, Clarice. We only have so much time before Barney returns, and I believe it’s my turn to give sexual favors,” he said, looking into her eyes.

She flushed red.

“Let me ride you.”

Now this was interesting. Clarice wanted to be the dominant one. Perhaps a reflection of how helpless she felt at work.

Hannibal would bring this up again some other time.

“As you wish, Clarice.”

She stood from the bench, having him sit.

He moved to the edge of the seat, fixing the towel beneath him so her knees wouldn’t be uncomfortable.

She stood before him, a beautiful goddess, and in that moment he felt he owed Jack Crawford a letter of thanks.

He lowered his back, opening himself to her.

She swallowed, moving to straddle him. She fixed his knees, and lifted herself up. His hands went to her hips, and he placed kisses on her stomach. She could feel the nervous yet excited heat building in her.

She reached underneath, holding him as she lowered her hips.

As Clarice felt his tip at her entrance, she made a sharp inhale.

Slowly, she began lowering herself onto him.

They both gasped and moaned, and Clarice winced at the pain.

He was too big.

She raised a bit, and then lowered, trying to adjust to his size. He understood this, patiently fondling her thighs.

“Hannibal…” she moaned, finally lowering herself completely. His breath caught in his throat. The feeling of her warm, wet insides was driving him further and further to insanity.

“Clarice… you feel so good,” he groaned, bucking his hips slightly. She smiled, rolling her hips slowly, bouncing just the slightest bit. He moved his hands to her breasts, overwhelmed.

She bounced a bit faster, encouraged by his moans.

“Hannibal.. oh fuck you’re huge,” she gasped, holding his shoulders for support. He kissed her neck, utterly obsessed with her.

“Clarice..” he moaned, his hands on her hips, guiding her and assisting her.

She growled slightly, her hands in his hair.

She was almost aggressive now, riding him with full power and strength.

“So this is how you manage your anger,” he gasped, overwhelmed as she tugged his hair slightly.

“Fuck… shut up, Doctor Lecter,” she mumbled, crying out as he hit her g-spot. He chuckled.

Hannibal then thrust upwards, breathing heavily.

“Clarice, lean back, grab my thighs,” he suggested, licking his lips.

She did as he said, holding onto his legs.

This new angle filled her with even more pleasure, and she gasped as she felt his thumb rubbing her clit.

“Hannibal!” She moaned, throwing her head back.

They were both erupting with groans and sounds.

“Such a good girl, Clarice. Good girl,” he whispered, letting his free hand sensually slide up her stomach.

She whimpered, feeling pressure build up inside her.

“Fuck.. Hannibal I’m close,” she said, gasping out for air.

He growled in response, thrusting his hips upwards just a bit harder. She cried out.

“C-Choke me..” she commanded.

If he wasn’t so incredibly turned on and in so much pleasure, he would’ve laughed. In the moment all he could do was comply. Later on, alone in his cell as he revisited the whole exchange, he’d smile and remember to ask her about it the next time she came by.

“Clarice…” he hissed, his hand moving to her neck. She moaned loudly, feeling the power of his hand against her throat. She was on top of him and yet they both dominated each other equally, their sexual energy balancing each other out like a perfectly made scale.

Hannibal felt pressure building too. He tensed up, desperate to hold himself back.

Clarice had to finish first.

“Hannibal… Hannibal oh god I’m so close,” she cried out, moaning again.

“Come for me, Clarice. Be a good girl,” he hissed in her ear.

His words set her off, and her whole body shook as he continued to thrust. Clarice cried out, and her toes curled and she gripped his thighs for dear life, every muscle tensing like they never had before.

“Hannibal..! Oh my god…”

Her vaginal walls pulsing around him and the look on her face as she orgasmed was enough to make Hannibal finish.

He filled her warm insides with his cum, breathing heavily as his thrusts slowed.

The pair collapsed into each other, both trying to catch their breath.

“I love you.. I love you, Hannibal,” she whispered, not completely realizing what had slipped from her mouth until a moment later. She did not regret saying it.

His heart pounded inside his chest, even more than it already was.

“I.. adore you, Clarice. I love you with my entire being,” he said, kissing her.

She immediately kissed back, content.

Hannibal had been right. Nobody had fucked her properly until now.

——

Barney returned to the hallway outside the changing room.

When Clarice was gone, he assumed she’d gone off to use the bathroom.

But her purse was still on the seat, and he didn’t hear the shower running.

He heard some noise from behind the door, and smiled to himself.

Maybe Doctor Lecter needed a few more minutes in the shower.

[broadwayandnetflix]

Slow Down - Bill Hader x Reader

Warnings: Language

Theme: Fluff + 1/4 of Angst

Summary:  Hi I’ve literally been binging all of your fics and I didn’t know if you were still taking requests, but I was wondering if I could request an imagine with Bill Hader where the reader is sick and passes out at SNL and Bill helps them and takes them home

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Ahh thank you so much for your patience @bduchrnskei​ I really hope you enjoy this fic and it met your prompt expectations. I absolutely loved writing this one amongst all of my evil schoolwork, but what can you do? 

Living in a small-sized New York City apartment was not all that it’s cracked up to be. Whether it’s the heavy traffic and clutter of construction that never halts or the extreme temperatures during any season.

In this case, in particular, winter.

Or, more specifically, in this case, your heater broke, and it had become like an iceberg within your apartment space. As stated by your landlord, the repairmen were supposed to come on Saturday night, and as of right now, it was Thursday.

So bundling up had to do, in a way, you kind of missed the heater’s incessant rattling, as it had become a sort of a white noise these last few months.

You hadn’t been in New York City for very long, a little under a year, maybe? It wasn’t like you to pack up and move randomly to the Big Apple, but after clearing a spot as a new cast member with Saturday Night Live. It was most certainly a must.

Ever since you were little, you’d always had a knack for making others laugh or just getting to see someone smile. Saturday Night Live became your goal, and to secure it was like winning a million dollars. Even if it meant having to endure New York’s extreme seasonal changes.

This week was no different in the typical workflow; you were technically a new cast member. So the number of sketches you had been in was significantly limited. Still, you loved it nonetheless, with the lack of skits that you had been in lately allowed you to get to know your cast members more.

Specifically, your other recurring cast members like Nasim Pedrad and Jenny Slate, the three of you would often meet up for coffee on Sundays. Taking the time to decompress and discuss your favorite sketches of the week. It was nice to have a group of people you could relate to and find solace in, especially when the weeks became stressful or exhausting.

And oh boy, did your week’s become exhausting, especially on Saturdays. You shuddered at the thought of dress rehearsal as it stretched late into the night; losing sleep was worth the excitement.

You looked at the clock, it was nearing close to four in the morning, and you still had been awake at this point. Maybe it was the cold or the thousands of thoughts swirling through your mind, much like the snow accumulating outside.

Work was gonna be a bitch tomorrow.

You sneezed at the thought, sighed, and made sure to set your alarm before letting sleep take over.

-

You awoke with a headache and a blaring alarm that was erupting from your phone. Groaning, you shut the phone off and tried to ignore the incessant pain protruding from your forehead.

Swallowing some painkillers, you got dressed, grabbed your keys, and headed to work. Totally not picking up a coffee and a breakfast sandwich on the way.

“Why good morning Y/N!” Jenny chirped as you walked into the room, still rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“You sound oddly chipper, what happened?” you said as you put down your stuff, eyeing her curiously.

“She got some sleep, that’s what happened.” Nasim replied, nursing a cup of coffee in her hands, giving you a sleepy smile.

“Lucky duck,” you murmured, instinctively reaching for your coffee as well. It coated your throat nicely, you sighed in content.

Jenny only smirked before starting up another conversation with Nasim; you let your eyes wander across the room. Everyone in motion, working hard to make sure shit got done. That’s the thing about working at 30 Rock; no one ever really stopped moving.

One thing that you still had not gotten used to was Monday’s. The grueling and exhausting twenty-four hour stretch period of planning and concocting up sketches. It was a scary feeling, as if you could ever compare to everyone else.

Every now and then, a pitch you threw into the ball pit would get picked, the tiny butterflies in your stomach reminding you why you did what you did.

Your eyes landed on a particular figure as he strolled into the room. His hair beautifully tousled, eyes half-open, and shirt resting ever so comfortably upon his chest. You diverted your eyes quickly, only to feel yourself begin to sneeze.

Fuck, for the love of all that’s holy, please do not sneeze in front of Hader.... too late.

He looked up, meeting your widened eyes, and gave you a soft smile. It lingered for a bit until Andy swept up from behind and hugged him along by the arm. For a second, you could’ve sworn he was gonna look back, but Andy had appeared to say something.

“Bless you!” Nasim and Jenny said in unison.

You mouthed thanks and leaned back against the wall, replaying the scene over and over again.

“Thinking about Hader again?” Jenny asked, following your line of sight, as she nudged you in the side playfully.

“Jenny! Not too loud, he might hear you.” you frantically whispered, a stern look aglow in your eyes.

“Oh honey, it’s so obvious.” Nasim chimed in, Jenny nodding eagerly in response.

“Plus he’s too far away, you’re more than safe Y/N, I think it’s cute that you like him. All the more reason to make fun of you.” Jenny says quickly before she is shoved by Nasim.

“I’m joking! I’m joking! Okay maybe not fully joking.” Jenny yelps, giving you a wicked grin.

You groaned, rubbing your hands over your eyes in embarrassment. It was so bad, crushing on cast members, but man, was he handsome. Although you had denied it, a lot of your favorite sketches from the past weeks always seemed to involve Hader.

It was not like it was gonna go anywhere; you two barely spoke, and plus you’d probably be a mess if you did. Every now and then, though, you’d often find Hader sitting beside you at table reads. His laugh is always so goddamn infectious, and Jenny and Nasim eyeing you playfully like schoolgirls.

God, you were a mess, and it seemed like everyone knew it. Maybe even Hader knew; let’s hope he doesn’t.

“You know Y/N, I’ve never seen Hader as shy as he is when he’s around you. I mean the man literally sniffed my hair yesterday,” you quirk a brow, “But- but with you, he’s soft” Nasim’s voice crowds your thoughts, and you instantly look up to meet her in disbelief.

“Bullshit.” you retort, trying to ignore whatever attempt she was trying to make.

“Girl, you’ve kind of got a point. He’s not as jokey as he usually is whenever he’s around you Y/N.” Jenny adds, only to be interrupted by Lorne calling for a meeting.

Ah, how could you forget? Dress Rehearsal. While these days didn’t run as long as the others, they were equally draining and stressful. The three of you walked to Lorne’s office just in time as the rest of the cast stood beside you.

You felt yourself to begin to shiver unexpectedly, hugging yourself tightly. Since when was 30 Rock so cold? You felt Nasim look at you questioningly, and you shrugged her off.

Lorne had discussed the skits’ arrangements for the day, murmurs of excitement beginning to spread like wildfire around the room. Everyone just itches to get out and see if their sketch would succeed or bomb.

You took your seat in the audience as the sketches would come and go, meeting your cues whenever necessary. At the same time, your painkillers had seemed to wear off as your headache only seemed to get worse.

You made your way backstage to find the building’s first aid kit, only to brush past another coworker. That just so happened to be Bill Hader.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out, slowly clamping it shut; his eyes met yours in slight confusion before softening slightly.

“Woah, hey Y/N, everything okay? You were in kind of a hurry there.” he asks; you could barely meet his eyes as they searched yours for any sort of response.

“Oh,” you gulped, “Yeah I just have this crazy headache, um I was just looking for the first aid kit.” you say, shifting the balance on your one foot to the other. 

His eyes widened before nodding quickly as if he was just reminded of something. The butterflies in your stomach crescendo as he quickly rested his palm upon your shoulder. You didn’t even know how to act, your body practically freezing at the contact.

“Actually to save you the trouble I have some painkillers upstairs in my dressing room. Not that I have like tons of drugs, but it’s no problem with me if that’ll help your headache.”

You quickly nod in response, trying to hide back a small smile before following him up several flights of stairs. God, you hated being so shy around Bill; it wasn’t like he was some mean old jerk; he was oh so genuine and thoughtful.

The two of you halt at a labeled Hader door; he looks back at you almost to check if you’re still there. Opening the door, he led you in, giving you a quick smirk, before crouching down and digging through the contents of his bag.

You had realized that this was the first time that you had ever been in a specific cast member’s dressing room. In particular, Hader’s room was neat and tidy, but you could see bits and pieces of his character sticking out. You couldn’t help but smile at it all, so caught up in the intricate details you didn’t even notice him get back up.

“Y/N, you good?” he asks; you focus your attention back on him quickly.

His hands outstretched, one holding a bottle of Advil and the other clamped tightly around a water bottle.

“Oh, um yeah. Thank you so much you have no idea how much I appreciate you for doing this.” you say rather quickly, but Hader doesn’t seem phased by your awkward nature.

You reach for the bottle and water, fingers gently brushing against his. The two of you looking down at the contact before parting ways.

Hader clears his throat, and you feel your stomach begin to tighten. Slipping two pills into your mouth, you unscrew the cap and down it carefully.

“You nervous about tomorrow?” he asks while placing the pill bottle back within his bag.

“A little I guess, I mean I tend to get nerves closer to the show. I’m sure at this point though, you’ve become an expert at staying calm.” you reply, his gaze falling towards the floor.

“Oh my god, I’m a wreck Y/N. This show is so stressful it eats at me every week, no matter what. I mean, clearly I’m doing something right and Lorne’s not gonna fire me, but, my anxiety gets so bad.” he says quickly. His eyes widened, and his posture became slightly tenser than before.

You couldn’t help but soften your gaze; you had no idea that he even went through this every week. Even now, with the buzzing tension in the air for tomorrow night, you couldn’t imagine what he was going through. Let alone the fact that he made the time to help you out.

“I wouldn’t have ever noticed,” he looks back up at you. “I mean, you’ve always just looked so...confident. I just can’t even begin to imagine what’s that like, every week constantly. I’m so sorry you have to go through that.” you quietly admit.

He shakes his head quickly, putting out a hand almost as if he was trying to stop you.

“No, no, it’s fine. Thank you though, it’s awfully sweet to hear that. Especially from someone like you.” Hader’s eyes filled with such warmth.

Was Hader blushing? Or were you losing it? Probably losing it.

“Oh about that headache, everything okay up in there?” he murmurs, stepping just a tad bit closer to you.

“It’s probably nothing, but I do appreciate the help.” you look back at the door, “We should probably get back? Right? Don’t wanna miss our dress.” you say quickly.

Hader nods within an instant, eyes widening at the realization of how long you two had been gone for. He led you to the door, giving you a quick smile before he ran out, murmuring something about a skit that had something to do with the guest host.

You giggle softly, heaving a contented sigh. It definitely was gonna be a long day, and you could’ve sworn that the temperature had just dropped.

Strange.

-

You couldn’t have stumbled into it until at least one in the morning, but sleep had been desperately calling your name. Oh, how you missed having a regular sleep schedule; it would make mornings less of a struggle.

Except this morning was different, or more so than you were used to. The headache that had arrived less than twenty-four hours earlier was now ten times worse. Your body ached, and you couldn’t decipher if the bed was too hot or too cold.

This was torture, and quite possibly the flu, not to mention, you had the show tonight, shit. You practically sprang upwards before feeling the instant aftermath of that decision settling in. It felt absolutely criminal to leave those sheets as you groaned and grimaced your way towards your kitchen cabinet. Eyes barely opened while you blindly searched for the thermometer you had kept.

One quick temperature check later, you were running a low-grade fever. Shit, shit, shit, shit. I mean, you couldn’t miss the show, right? It just didn’t seem plausible, or maybe it did?

You frantically wondered while your fingers grazed over the Google search bar whether going to work with a low-grade fever would be beneficial?

Every answer didn’t really seem to fit the unrealistic expectations that you had set for yourself. Still, one disgusting shot of Dayquil later, you were out the door.

The day went by in a haze, and the headache never really did seem to falter. It was almost like yesterday in a sense, but seeing Hader waltz into the room made you smile. He smiled back.

Of course, Jenny and Nasim knew something was up; they always did. It wasn’t like Lorne was gonna fire you for missing one show; it was the flu. Except, you had made it this far, how bad could it possibly go?

-

The lights were too bright, far too bright for you to even think properly, and your fever was sure burning up. Or maybe it wasn’t, you always had to ask others around for that sorta assistance. Except, this was the primary night of the week and you weren’t gonna ask a cast member to feel your forehead.

Imagine if Hader did, Y/N, please stop being a dork.

You found solace in a large water bottle, but it didn’t do much to help the way your body ached miserably. You looked like a mess, you felt like a mess, but this was the big leagues.

The last time you had checked, the previous performance of the musical guest had been underway. Which meant you had survived, but the exhaustion that had been ever-growing was begging for you to lay down.

The floor looked so good right now, yeah, just for a hot second, ugh why is everything burning up?

Slowly closing your eyes, you let yourself press up against the wall, except there wasn’t a wall right there, and down you went with a thud.

-

Bill had been anxious all night, of course for the show, but for you in particular. You usually always looked so put-together, but tonight something about you was just off. It was beginning to rub him the wrong way.

“Andy, do you notice anything strange about, um, Y/N over there?” he said, trying to muffle the concerned edge that rested within his voice.

“Y/N? Oh that new cast member you like?” Andy replied without much thought, earning a stern look from Hader.

“She’ll hear you, god man you sure can be loud. Whatever, she just looks kind of off man, I’m a little nervous for her.”

Andy’s gaze softened just a tad until something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

“I mean normally I would say that she looks fine and you’re just crushing, but I don’t think that is normal.” Bill’s gaze instantly locked onto the same thing, which was you fainting onto the floor.

His body going rigid before ultimately bolting upright, he wasn’t gonna catch you in time. Still, he definitely was gonna help if he could. Although he most definitely wasn’t the only one, other stray coworkers who happened to be backstage stood, jaws dropped.

There you went, tumbling to the ground, and Bill couldn’t help but feel his heart drop. Maybe that headache was worse than you had let up. He felt guilty for not speaking up sooner, but there was nothing he could do now.

They called a medic on the site, trying to keep it discreet as possible. It was a live show; he didn’t think it would be professional if broadcasted that shit.

He tried to fill in all of the details of how you had been acting the past few hours. It felt like he couldn’t do much to help, but he didn’t wanna leave your sight. It was odd; something about you really drew him in, leaving him reaching for more.

Plus, at this point, the last thing he had to do was go on stage while they rolled the credits. Bill was optimistic that this would count as a good reason.

He watched anxiously while the medic’s placed you upon a stretcher, his feet following without much thought. They wheeled you out to a waiting ambulance; he gulped at the thought of you having to be taken to the hospital.

Surprisingly they allowed him inside the ambulance; he was so convinced he’d be forced to wait until god knows how long. The vehicle provided seats off the side, allowing him to catch his breath and try not to worry about his current state.

That is until he saw you looking back groggily at him; now, this was definitely normal, as the medic had explained. He just didn’t see it coming; you blinked a few times, looking around at your surroundings.

-

“Hey, saw you took a little snooze there.” he teased, his gaze never leaving yours.

The ambulance rattled slightly, and you gasped a little before focusing your attention back onto him.

“Is this an ambulance? What happened?” you sat upright, feeling ten times worse, trying to piece together precisely why you and Bill Hader, of all people, were in the ambulance?

“Y/N, you fainted. The doctor’s said you’re burning up, they’re taking you to the ER.” he explained carefully, as you groaned in frustration.

He cocked his head slightly, clearly not expecting that response.

“About that, yeah I think I have the flu, I had a low-grade fever this morning.” you admitted sheepishly, not even daring to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry what?” he exclaimed, his eyes as wide as literal saucers. “Lemme get this straight, you went to work, with the flu?” you nodded, and he ran his hands over his face.

“Listen, I didn’t wanna disappoint Lorne. I mean it’s the night of all nights.” the words came out softer than you had intended; Hader practically melted.

“Oh, did you really think that Lorne’s gonna get pissed at you for having the flu? Oh sweetie, you know your health comes first right?” his words falling ever so sweetly off his lips.

You could barely look at the man, let alone control the multitude of butterflies that jolted in your already queasy stomach. Not to mention that he even thought to tag along, you nodded, not saying a word, focusing on his blue eyes like they were a safety net. Until you closed them, letting sleep overtake you.

-

You awoke once more to the sounds of machines beeping, people going from room to room, and an incessant tapping of one’s shoe.

This was most definitely the emergency room, your eyes scanning its surroundings until they landed on one person in particular. He looked exhausted, more so than you did, and you felt awful given the time it was at night. In fact, it was practically morning.

“You’re still here,” he sat upright, rubbing his eyes, “Thanks for sticking it out, Bill.” you tried to give him the most genuine smile you could possibly muster.

“Of course, I mean I overheard the doctor anyway. You’re cleared to go when you wake up, and definitely have to get some rest. I already spoke to Lorne.” you gaped, but he only stood up.

“Bill, what did he say?” you whisper.

“That you should listen to the doctor, and me.” you raised a brow. “Okay maybe he didn’t say me, but you get the point?” he exclaimed as he helped you get out of the bed.

The two of you walking towards the desk in which you had to sign out some papers, the pen unsteadily perched upon your fingers. Bill’s hand holding securely upon your back, in hopes you wouldn’t stumble. In reality, just being near him set your heart aflutter.

“Now I’m taking you home, but first I was thinking I could get you some soup for home. That sound good?” you could only look at the man in pure awe.

“You don’t have to do this Bill, really, I mean you’ve already done enough.” you gulped, only to see the man give you a smirk, his eyes glinting at you mischievously.

“Soup it is.” his hand clamping against yours, he led you out of the hospital and into the cold streets of New York City.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to reach the little soup shop he’d been talking about; it was cozy and apparently open twenty-four seven. Against his offer, you paid for two soups that looked the most delicious and cupped the cups while strolling back to your place.

“How do you think you got the flu?” he asked gently, looking at you with curiosity.

You had to try not to laugh; I mean, at this point, it was your fault, you subjected yourself to the tundra in your bedroom for the past few nights.

“Well, my heater has been broken for the past few nights. I assume that’s how I got it.” a smile aglow upon your face, giggling at Hader’s shocked expression.

“It better be fixed tonight when we get to your apartment complex. That’s ridiculous, Y/N.” you kept giggling, and soon he joined in with that gorgeous laugh of his.

You enjoyed your time with Hader even though internally you felt like shit; he made it so much more bearable. The air was light between the two of you, he made it easy to open up, and you wanted to know so much about him.

God, wait till you let Nasim and Jenny know about this night. They’re so gonna flip; you just knew it. Not to mention, the big looming ‘I told you so’ that was so coming your way.

“This is it.” he came to a halt, admiring the quaint little building that you happened to call home.

“You do know I’m not leaving until that heater is back on, right?” he ordered, but underneath his serious tone, you could see the concern.

“Oh come on Hader, let’s go see.”

The two of you taking the steps at a time, your body wanting to collapse, but you couldn’t let him know. He stood beside you while you inserted your keys into the lock, twisting it, before walking inside.

“What’s that rattling noise?” Hader wondered aloud.

A huge grin meeting your lips, you looked at him in pure delight, and he soon got the memo. His eyes widening before heaving a sigh of relief, only to halt.

“You call me if you need anything okay? Get some sleep, and um, stay warm. That’s an order, you hear me?” you could see his performance wavering as he tried desperately not to laugh.

“Yes, Sir.” you saluted weakly, but he only began to break instantly.

You really did love that laugh.

Thanks, Bill, for everything, really.” you said as he turned to head to the door, stepping up on your toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

His face instantly turned red before trying to compose himself as he walked away. You watched while he left the residence, giving you one last smile.

-

You awoke in a drowsy stupor that next morning to a text message from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: Want me to bring you some coffee and breakfast? - btw, this is Bill. Hope this l wasn’t too creepy. I ain’t no stalker.

Maybe: Bill: ps. How do you like your coffee?

Bill: ps.s yes or no?

You fell back on the bed with such a shit-eating grin, only to groan in response to the mistake you had just made.

You: Yes 

[gem-rewatch]

SU rewatch- S1E11- Arcade Mania

Hey, long time no see!

I’m desperately bored in solitary quarantine at university right now, and decided to try and pick this SU rewatch series up again for fun. It’s been a while since I’ve watched through the show in order. Plus, now that this show is completely finished, there’s plenty more connections to make. I can’t promise I’ll be consistent with this, but at the very least I can have fun trying to make a few more posts at my leisure.

Anyways. With that business out of the way. Let’s get right on to the show!

We begin with yet another mission Steven’s guardians have brought him along on! I believe this is the fifth mission we know of that he’s accompanied them on so far. (Lunar Sea Spire, Inverted Pyramid, the unknown mission he returns from in Tiger Millionaire, the desert, and now this one.) It’s really sweet seeing the Gems begin to trust him tagging along more often. There will come a day in the near future where missions become routine for Steven, but in these early episodes, you can really tell that each and every one is a brand new adventure.

In terms of plot, though, this episode is honestly Future Vision: The Prequel.

We learn a lot about Garnet’s abilities and her role in the team here, even if all of these details aren’t spelled out word-for-word quite yet. Hints towards her future vision we see this ep include:

Garnet moving ahead of the group to be in the perfect spot to catch Steven when he falls.

Her flawless moves while fighting and dodging the monsters.

Her becoming a master at the rhythm game later in the episode.

Like, damn. Look at this.

Look at her go.

My Q U E E N!

I had to gif all of this just because it’s such a beautiful and smooth sequence of animation.

If there’s one thing all of the Crystal Gems can 100% agree on, it’s that Garnet is friggin’ amazing.

Garnet: “Let them go. They’re just parasites. If they want to be a problem, they’ll have to answer to me.”

So, does this statement mean that- at this present moment- her extended stay at the arcade was entirely beyond her future vision? That the only futures she saw were ones where she was actually present to deal with containment of the Gem parasites? Given that later scenes insinuate she’d never been to the arcade before, and would have no “data” about its games to factor into her internal understanding of the world, this seems likely.

I adore the gradual palette change here, from shadow, to setting sun. It’s a nice detail that adds so much more life to what could otherwise be a rather mundane transition scene. It seems like unique palettes were more common in early SU- I wonder why Crewniverse stopped implementing these as often later on?

Pearl, entering the arcade: “Humans find such fascinating ways to waste their time.”

Thanks, Pearl. Love you too. <3

This sequence of Pearl failing at playing a car chase/road rage game hits so much different knowing what happens in Last One Out of Beach City. It’s genuinely radical how far she grows in confidence from this point, because here, she seems so shackled to rules and guidelines. Now that we know about her rebellious past, it might be tempting to write this characterization off as “early series weirdness,” but... I don’t think that’s what’s happening here.

Instead, I wonder if she’s working through grief-related regression.

Think about it... the pain of Rose’s passing is still so fresh for her. She was a rule breaking rebel once, yes, but she spent all of those days at Rose’s side. And I get the sense that she’s poured so much of herself into keeping Rose safe, into the rebellion against Homeworld, that without those, she’s caught in a vacuum. What IS her purpose now, when the very person she rebelled for is gone?

So she slips back into old pearl-like habits. Chronic rule following, and a fear of deviating from norms. How familiar. Thankfully, much of her arc throughout the show is her directly growing beyond these habits to live boldly as her own Gem.

The friggin video game when Garnet knocks its head off: “TELL MY WIFE I’M SORRYYY!!!”

Yo, what the fuck. This line is both hilarious and messed up, all at once. Please tell me the game isn’t sentient.

Aaaand here we finally introduce Garnet to the video game sensation that is Meat Beat Mania! This game is perfectly suited to her and her power of foresight because its patterns are algorithmic and not vulnerable to spontaneous deviations, and thus easy to predict, with enough input. She’s probably getting a quick rush of satisfaction with every correct move, and she barely has to exert any energy with her future vision to get that rush. After years and years of wading through endless possibility at every avenue, this video game’s patterns must be a rejuvenating breath of fresh air.

It’s addicting.

...Kinda makes me think of how I get sometimes when I play solitaire on my phone for an hour straight. After a while, I barely even think, I’m just shuffling through my deck and moving cards almost on automatic. I don’t have to use much energy to play, and it gives me animated fireworks every time I finish a match. It’s a win-win.

Amethyst: “I’MMA WIN AN AIRPLANE!”

I don’t know what it is about the way Michaela Dietz says the world “airplane,” but this makes me laugh every time. Does... does she think she can win a genuine airplane here because she saw Onion win a tiny motorbike from the ticket booth?? Amethyst, oh my god. XD

She’s got the spirit, this wild child.

So, moving on- we meet up with our crew later the next morning, Garnet nowhere to be seen. There’s an interesting exchange I’d like to highlight real quick-

Pearl: “If we’re supposed to fight a giant foot, Garnet would let us know.” Amethyst: “Yeah, Garnet’s the boss!” Pearl: “Well, we’re all a team. Garnet just has heightened perception that guides us towards our mission objectives.”

Considering the specific phrasing Pearl uses here- “heightened perception” instead of “future vision-” did Garnet outright tell the two of them to not explain her powers, just like she told them not to mention she’s a fusion? Because I’m pretty sure no one ever uses the phrase “heightened perception” again in reference to her powers.

Given the fact that Garnet chose to keep the knowledge of Ruby and Sapphire under the table until she felt Steven could understand her better, my guess is that this is a similar scenario.

Ahah, I genuinely can’t tell if this is Steven being gullible, or just impulsively playing along with Amethyst’s antics. Still- gross, kid. Don’t wipe your wet cereal face on your shirt! Ew! :O

When he goes outside and starts to use a kiddy metal detector to scan for quarters... so THAT’S where he finds his arcade money! Because I can’t imagine Greg is financially able to give him that much to spend on non-essentials at this point in the show.

Okay, so... I just want to bring light to the fact that Garnet has literally been in this arcade ALL NIGHT LONG.

It was evening when she first arrived here- the sun was visibly setting in the background, and when Steven, Amethyst, and Pearl left, the sky was dark. But now it’s morning. Steven was just seen eating breakfast. And Garnet is STILL HERE.

Does this mean Mr. Smiley locked her IN? I have so many questions... Did he try to get her to leave, only to be intimidated by her complete lack of response? I would kill to know more about this interaction. Poor Mr. Smiley. That man deals with so much bullshit in this town, huh?

Geebus, is Garnet a solid wall. Previous episodes have shown Steven forcibly shoving whole tons of food, and swinging a mini-freezer over his head, and yet he can’t get her to budge even an inch.

I absolutely adore how he climbs up her frame like a koala, though, ahah. Cute.

Meat Beat Mania announcer: “That’s rare!!” Steven: “Oh my gosh...!”

I take these two lines as evidence that this is the first time Steven’s ever seen Garnet’s eyes. Specifically, the fact that there’s three of them. Which, makes sense- since Garnet is still really reserved emotionally at this point, and is only begins to get in the habit of taking her visor off to show Steven her full face later on in the show.

This expression deeply hurts me.

Steven’s so distraught here- because the others are in danger, the town is in danger, and he doesn’t have his trusty, dependable guardian who catches him when he falls and beats up scary monsters for him. Without her, the whole team is vulnerable and blind.

He feels alone. He feels... powerless.

And so he responds to that confusing, powerless feeling by trying to compensate with his own power. When all other routes he can think of fail, he smashes the video game console.

It... uh, it works... but once again, Steven entirely fails to consider the consequences, huh? He experienced a little bit of character growth in this regard in the episode Serious Steven, but even past that it’ll remain an recurring issue for him. Hell, his impulsiveness is a general character flaw even stretching into SUF.

In summary, though:

Poor Mr. Smiley. He works so hard, and doesn’t deserve this BS. ;-;

[pepperf]

For the director's commentary thing, slight curveball: Just the entirety of "Everything Is Peaches But The Cream". It's not even 500 words and I always really enjoy it when I read it back but I'm also like "What went down here?" There is of course a danger that you don't know either XD

Either way, thanks for any insight!

Oh lord, now you're asking…! Okay, first reaction is that I have absolutely no clue what's going on and I basically stole the premise for this from one of my favourite songs, 'Handcuffed To A Fence In Mississippi' by Jim White:

I'm handcuffed to a fence in Mississippi. My girlfriend blows a boozy good-bye kiss. I see flying squirrels and nightmares of stigmata. Then awakening to find my Trans-Am gone. Still, I'm feeling pretty good about the future. Yeah, everything is peaches but the cream. I'm handcuffed to a fence in Mississippi, where things is always better than they seem. Things is always better than they seem.

It goes on, but basically this guy is in a shitty situation, there's a mysterious bloodstain and sirens in the distance…but it's still kind of cheery and optimistic. He's letting go of the idea that you have to be having fun or be happy all the time. Sometimes things are dark, and that's okay too.

And that kind of fitted my image of Diego and Lila's relationship: they argue a lot, and they do some objectively bad stuff to one another, and their lives are kind of awful, a lot of the time—but that doesn't mean they have to be sad about it, or let it get them down, if that's simply not how they feel. They can enjoy the challenge of it, they can trust in themselves to find a way out of it, they can even love each other when they're still doing bad stuff. Just that kind of cheerful view of, like, 'oops, looks like I'm about to be framed for murder…better do something about that.'

I did have some scattered thoughts in my head about what had happened. This is a post-s2 scenario where Lila has been doing some appearing and disappearing from Diego's life, because she's not yet reached a point where she feels safe or comfortable committing to him or to a fixed point in time. But she's drawn back to him, she's crazy in love with him—she's just not settled in herself yet. And he's kind of accepting of that.

Diego shook off the last of the dizziness as he watched the red taillights bouncing off down the uneven road. He could hear an excited whoop drift back to him, over the roar of the engine.

Dammit. He’d really liked that car, too.

I am a simple soul, I like cars and hot people. I liked Diego's scrappy old car in s1, it pinged the part of my brain that wants a Ford Mustang (and it's green, like Steve McQueen's—I'm not sure, but I'm thinking they deliberately did that, bc the shape is about right, too…I wouldn't be surprised if Diego was a fan of the movie Bullitt). Also, I figure that Lila has either drugged him or knocked him on the head. I am cool with that. Diego is cool with that. It's a minor inconvenience in his life. :D

He tugged experimentally at the handcuffs that shackled him to the chain-link fence. They were pink and fluffy on the outside, and absolutely professional underneath.

Lila has waylaid him to a seedy motel with the prospect of hot sex, obv. She has some reason of her own to want to be there, possibly an assignment from the Commission, or some personal loose end she wants to tie up. She just wanted some company, and to make Diego's life more exciting.

Still, they wouldn’t be an obstacle - if he had anything to pick the lock. But all he could see were rocks and scrubby twigs, and Lila’d taken all his remaining knives, along with his wallet, keys, and boots. He poked at the ground with his bare toes, failing to unearth anything useful, like a soda can tab or a fully-equipped lockpicking kit.

Remember back in the day when every corner of every street was liberally littered with soda can ring pulls? I feel like the TUA universe also still has those, as well as no internet. I don't know why. It's the 90s-ness of it, I guess.

Also, Lila is more thorough than almost anyone who's restrained Diego before. He's finding her a challenge—but maybe not in a bad way. He strikes me as a guy who doesn't like to rest on his current skillset, and is always seeking ways to push himself further. So he's simultaneously annoyed, impressed, challenged, and kinda turned on.

Sinking down into a crouch, he gazed up at the night sky, looming magnificently over the ugly motel. There was a good view of the stars out here in deepest Mississippi, and if he’d ever followed that line of studies, back at the Academy, maybe he’d be able to name a few constellations.

I get the impression from what little we see in s1 that the kids were able to choose, like…study modules, like how Vanya chose to learn the violin. It's the one freedom they seem to have had (well, obviously some of it was still prescriptive, like their combat training and so on). I imagine Luther went for the astronomy parts, flight, that sort of thing, judging by his room décor. Diego…maybe went for additional combat training? And in his limited free time, just read whatever he got his hands on? I'm not sure.

It was peaceful now that all the shouting and violence was over. He could hear the sounds of wildlife, insects and shit. There was a gentle breeze. It might even be nice, if he wasn’t handcuffed to a fucking fence.

The recurring motif. The chorus, if you will. :) I think all the shouting and violence happened outside of his view, he maybe caught the start of it before he ended up unconscious through whatever means. She probably drugged him, or he'd be talking about a headache about now.

He noticed three things at the same time: the distant wail of approaching police sirens, his boots tucked neatly under a nearby bush, and the massive bloodstain on the floor outside the room they’d rented.

Lila left him the boots. (Probably someone else called the cops, after all the shouting and violence.) She's playing 'nice' and giving him what she considers an advantage. She's expecting him to get out of the handcuffs, and escape the police, but it's just a little more pleasant not to have to do that barefoot. Also, she left him fully clothed! She was basically going totally easy on him, in her mind, because she's sweet on him.

It was shaped like an arrow, and it pointed helpfully - from the point of view of a rural police department looking for a person of color to blame - straight at him.

A tribute to the Umbrella Academy title sequence for Lila, and a coincidence in-universe. She's not murdered someone in a way that purposefully ends in a bloodstained arrow. Probably. Also the person totally deserved murdering, idk why, but they did.

Diego sighed, and rose smoothly to his feet.

Time to play Which Will Break First: Cuffs, Fence, or Wrist?

See, he's had a nice rest, and now he's ready to play! This is a relatively low-stakes operation, whatever is happening, it's something that he'll get out of, at some inconvenience to himself, and get back home, and then later on she'll show up again and he can grump at her for leaving him handcuffed to a fucking fence, what the hell, Lila?! to his heart's content.

(ETA: Also...he’s handcuffed to a fence. It’s probably wooden, or if not, rusty. Of course that is going to break first. He just needs to twist or kick right.)

I think that's all I've got! Aside from the fact that, weirdly enough, today I am wearing a T-shirt that says 'Just Peachy', which I mainly like bc it reminds me of that song…

[wayward-mikaelson]

His Little Sister

Word Count: 2041

Pairing: Jared x Reader

Characters: Reader, Jensen, Jared, Alex, Rich, Misha (Mentioned)

About: The Reader works on the set of Supernatural where her big brother Jensen stars along side his best friend Jared. The Reader has developed a major crush on Jared. The Reader somehow lands a roll on the show. A role that plays Sam Winchesters love interest which big brother Jensen isn’t too thrilled about.

Disclaimer: Language, Angst, Mention of depression, Mention of car accident, Implied Smut

Disclaimer 2: Any of the shorts that are hot and steamy, I want to put out there that it's in no way disrespectful towards Gen at all. I love her to death and respect that marriage between her and Jared. So when reading those shorts, know that it all takes place in an alternate world where they aren't married at all.

A/N: Tag all your SPN accounts

A/N 2: Tag any Sam/Jared Stans so they can see this

A/N 3: Should I write a Part 2? I feel Like there should be a part 2...Jensen find out his sister and best friend are sleeping together while at a convention maybe? YOU TELL ME!!!!

Forever Tag List: @donnaintx​ @myinconnelly1​ @hobby27​ @magssteenkamp​ @elansaidaris​ @440mxs-wife​ 

*18+ CONTENT. ANYONE YOUNGER THAN THAT WILL NEED TO MOVE ON. I DON’T WANT TO RISK MY ACCOUNT BEING THANOSED.

**PLEASE DO NOT COPY AND PASTE MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND WITHOUT GIVING ME THE PROPER CREDIT. I WORK TOO HARD ON MY WORK TO HAVE IT STOLEN. YOU CAN COPY AND PASTE THE LINK.

***THIS WORK IS ALSO POSTED ON IG, WATTPAD, AO3 SO PLEASE GO SO IT SOME LOVE OVER THERE

****FOLLOW ME ON IG, WATTPAD, AO3, AND TWITTER

*****DMS ARE OPEN FOR REQUESTS

"And...cut," Rich yells next to me. "That's a wrap! That was perfect!" I watch from the sidelines as he gets up from his directors chair. I watch as he makes his way towards Jensen and Jared. "Okay, now, I know it's late and everyone wants to get some sleep but, I want to run something pass you guys first." Rich pulls the two off set and outside. I look at the time on my phone and see that it's almost one in the morning.

"Want to head to my trailer for a drink?" Alex is next to me. He's still in his Jack outfit and still looking like a 16 year old boy who hasn't grown facial hair yet. He's been pinning after me for the last few years since I started working on the set of Supernatural. Everyone knew it too. Even my big brother, Jensen did. But I didn't feel that way towards Alex.

"Alex," I sigh. "Not tonight." I start to gather my things and make my way towards my brothers trailer. I normally stay at a hotel unless we have nights like this.

"Another time then?" Alex asks after me.

"She's not into you man," Jensen come up behind us hold some papers. "I could have told you that. I practically know who she's into." True, I think, but not this time. I couldn't tell him who it was because it was his best friend.

Ever since I started working on set, I saw Jared differently. He was no longer my brothers best friend to me. He was this funny and smart attractive man that smiled every time our eyes met. He even looks at me differently. Not the 'that's Jensen's baby sister' look. The look he give me always makes me blush. I would like to think Jared's into me but he was always going on some date with some chick.

"Sorry, Alex," I walk off with Jensen.

"It's all good," Alex walks off as well.

"You really should get back into dating," Jensen says handing me the papers in his hands as we walked to his trailer. "Anyway, we should talk about this."

I look at the papers. "It's a script," I say giving my brother a weird look.

Jensen wraps an arm around my shoulder. "Yeah, it's your script. The original chick who was casted as Opheila quit today. Rich and the others think you're perfect for the job."

I choke on whatever saliva is in my mouth. "My what?!" I exclaim pushing my brother away. "No! I haven't acted since my accident. And that was a year before I even took this job to help out on set."

Some years ago, I had a small but recurring role on the show Riverdale. In between filming and visiting home one day, I got into a bad car accident. My entire left leg was busted up and needed screws and rods. I was put out of work for months and my character on Riverdale was written and killed off. I was depressed because of it and then out of the blue Jensen pulled strings to get me back to work. My life was just starting to come back together and my limp was nearly gone too.

"I know," Jensen grabs my shoulder. "This could be your comeback. Give it a shot and if you don't like it, that's fine and Rich can suck my dick and get a new actress."

No one, and I mean no one, hyped me up and supported me and encouraged me like Jensen did. "Okay, here's to a comeback" I smile and Jensen pulls me into a hug. "Why did Rich want to talk to Jared as well?"

Jensen was quiet for a few minutes. "Well, this character we've been told, becomes a love interest of Sams."

I stop walking. "I see," It's a good thing it's dark because I can feel my face burning. Hot. "How does Jared feel about that?" I'm genuinely curious.

"Oh he's cool with it," Jensen continues to walking. I can tell that part of it is bugging him.

"And you?" I grab his arm and turn him around. "You don't seem or look to thrilled."

Jensen made a face. "I'm thrilled you got this roll. I've been dying to see you back in action acting again. I mean look at you. Beautiful and that limp you always complained about is gone. I just am having a hard time seeing my baby sister and best friend get friendly on camera."

I laugh out loud. I'm sure it's the fact that I am God awfully tired. "It'll be our characters getting close, not us." I hook my arm into his and we walk the rest of the way to the trailer.

"Rich is giving everyone the weekend off so we can focus on these lines." Jensen holds the trailer door open. Filming will start on Monday."

"Oi, that soon? Guess we get some sleep and start first thing."

Over the next few weeks, I learned more about my character. Ophiela, was also a hunter who hunted with the Winchesters a few times in the past. She and Sam also had a nice fun filled night before they lost contact. Turns out my character was going to be in the remaining season. Which to my surprise Jared was excited about. That kind of confused Jensen and made me blush hard that I had to find a way to hide my face from them all.

Getting back into acting wasn't hard. Acting with Misha around was hard. I never wanted to strangle someone so bad for purposefully trying to mess me up. I started to feel more and more myself behind the camera and delivering lines. Jensen even mentioned to me one night that I was getting that glow in my eyes when I acted. Rich was even impressed with my acting. About a month after taking the role and making it my own, we are about to wrap a scene where Sam and Ophiela are arguing. Our on set chemistry was fire. Everyone loved it.

Jared slams a book on the bunker set table. "What happened if we got there too late and found you dead?"

I lean over the table. "Then I would have died, Sam. You can't control that. Hell you can't even control your temper when it comes to my safety. Now if you will, I am going to wash off this hunt and go to bed." I take a few steps and Jared grabs my upper arm. "What the hell, Sam?"

"You don't see it do you," Jared starts to pull me towards him. Knowing whats going to happen, I can't help but feel nervous and giddy all at the same time. Jared has me up against his chest sweeping loose hair from my face. "I can't loose you." He cups my face and starts to pull me close when something loud crashes in the distance.

"Uh, sorry, about that," Jensen says picking up whatever he knocked over. Jared and I step away and I see irritation on his face.

"That was so perfect!" Rich whines from the directors chair. "Jensen, dammit, you need to be more careful." Rich comes around the corner. "I guess we pick this up tomorrow." Then he leaves.

"I'm going to go to my trailer," Jared walks off and I feel his hand slip out of mine and I realize that we had still been holding hands. I watch as he walks away.

"I really am sorry," Jensen says standing next to me. I look at him and I don't see a single regret about the incident on his face. He did that on purpose. That bastard.

"What the fuck, Jay?!" I ask pushing him. "The scene was going smoothly and it was perfect and you ruined it." I storm off leaving Jensen staring after me with a confused look on his face.

I walk way passed the trailer I share with Jensen. I walk pass Misha's trailer, Alex's trailer, and so on until I find myself standing at Jared trailer door. My heart is pounding as I hesitate to knock on his door. I don't what possessed me to go to his trailer but here I am.

"Jared," I knock on his door. "It's me."

The door opens and there stands Jared. In a t-shirt. "Hey," he says with a small smile. "Is your brother around?" The way he said brother confirmed he is just as irritated with him as I am.

"No, he's on set still or going to the local bar," I smile. "Can I come in?" Jared's small smile gets bigger. He steps aside and I walk into his trailer. It's neat and clean. I've only been in here a few times for only a few minutes. "I'm sorry, my brother can be a real dick sometimes." I say sitting on his small couch.

Jared grabs two beers, opens one and hands me it. "Yes he can be," He takes a sip of his beer. "The scene was perfect and going so smoothly." He sits next to me. I can't help but look the muscle in his arm that was close to brushing up on mine.

"It really was," I take a drink of my beer. "Our characters were about to have an amazing moment." I glance at Jared who's looking at me with those same eyes he was giving me on set.

"They can still have that moment," I see Jareds hand slide towards mine and without thinking I take hold of it. "Just without a camera." He adds taking his thumb and rubbing it my hand.

I blush and smile. "They totally can," I manage to out in a whisper.

Jared starts to lean in towards me. My heart is racing so I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Jared's head meets mine and he rests there breathing deeply. He's as nervous as me. I open my eyes and see he's staring deep into them. It's like my soul connects with his. It feels right. It's perfect. Licking my lip, I tilt my head up and press my lips to his.

The moment that they touch, every part of my body turns to jello. Jared lets go of my hand to cup my face and hold it to his. When his tongue pushes pass my lips and starts to explore my mouth, the beer bottle in my hand slips out of my hand and onto the floor with a loud clang. I pull back to pick it up but Jared pulls me back to him.

"Don't worry about that," I hear him set his beer down and use that hand to pull me onto his lap. Both legs rest on either side of his. I feel his erection pressing through his jeans and mine. I relax more of my weight and roll my hips against his. With a small but deep growl, Jared's lips land on mine again. Picking me and setting me on the small trailer counter.

I wrap my legs around him to keep him between me. I feel him press himself firmly into my jeans and I can feel how wet I am already for him. I moan into his mouth as he does it again. Jared pulls back and whips his shirt off. I do the same and unclasp the bra I am wearing. "You like what you see?"  I ask as Jared stares at bare chest.

"Do I?" He leans in and brushes his lips from my cheek to my ear where he nips just below. I suck in a deep breath. "I fucking think it's beautiful." He wraps his arm around me and carries me to his bed where he plops me down on the bed. He stares down at me as he takes his pants off. "Now, why don't we see how quiet you can be while I fuck you hard into this mattress."

[psycho-slytherin]

Strangers ch. 44

You begin moving on, but Yoongi is stuck.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Genre: fluff, angst, idk

Warnings: Strong language, I think that’s it?

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“Idiot. What were you thinking?”

“Oh, come on. Look, it all worked out, right?”

“This wasn’t part of the plan! Now everyone knows who you are!”

“They were gonna find out anyways. I just used it to my advantage.”

“Don’t you realize how careful we have to be?”

“You. I’m safe.”

“Have you forgotten our goal? We need to destroy her.”

“Yeah, but that was so he’d be safe. Haven’t we already won?”

“Not yet. But we will.”

~~~

“C’mon, D. I know you’ve got something for me.”

“Look, man-” D huffs in frustration. “I’m sorry, but ain’t the girl you’re trying to track down dead? It’s been a good month.”

“She’s alive.” Unless the photo is old, or doctored.

“Her phone hasn’t been on in any sorta way since the day she texted your girl. I’m tryin’ to locate her but I’m hitting a lotta dead ends.”

Yoongi bites his lip anxiously. Lisa is the only hold Seoyeon has over him– and the only proof he has that she’s a criminal. If he can find Lisa, Seoyeon won’t have any more leverage and Yoongi will be able to turn her over to the police. He’ll explain everything to Y/n, and finally be set free.

But he can’t do any of that until he has Lisa. 

“Yo, Gloss, hit me with that image description again?” D says over the phone. Yoongi can hear a mouse click several times as he closes his eyes, focusing on the photo in his memory. If only Seoyeon had sent it to him instead of just showing him, it might be easier.

“The walls were white. She was barefoot– her hair was short. Her hands and feet were tied.”

“What sort of knot?”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, thinking hard. “I- I can’t remember. It looked tight, the rope was pressing into her wrists.”

“That’s an oof. Did she look skinny, like she hadn’t been eating?”

“I don’t know, I can’t compare. I never met her in person, I only saw Y/n’s pictures of her.” Yoongi clenches his fist, frustrated that he’s so useless.

“Hey, hey, chill, man. We’ll find her. Now, what color were her hands?”

“Her hands? Uh… skin-colored?”

“Huh.” D pauses– Yoongi’s barely used to hearing his friend not talk.

“What?”

“I mean, you said the knots were tight. You’d think it would cut off her circulation.”

“Fuck, dude, I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t looking. How is this going to help us find her?”

“I mean, I can already tell you that she’s probably not at Seoyeon’s place. There’s no way this chick can keep Lisa at her house without her family finding out, that shit’s just one story.”

“You’re kidding, she lives with her family?”

“Bruh. If she was stalking you enough to get away with what she’s done, do you really think she’d be able to keep a good enough job to afford that place? Nah, man, she lives with her folks and a sister.”

“We don’t know that she was stalking me.” 

“How else did she find Y/n outside of the hospital, then? You tell me.” 

Yoongi falls silent. He doesn’t want to dwell on the possibility that he so directly put Y/n into danger– it’s too destructive a thought. “Whatever. D, I really need you on this. The authorities have been useless.”

D sniggers. “Ain’t that the truth. Look, I’ve got an alert on her number and socials. If she so much as turns her phone on, or tries posting from another device, I’ll know.”

“Thanks, you’re the best.”

“Yeah, whatever, you owe me a collab.”

Yoongi grins. “Deal.” After hanging up, he sighs, leaning back in his chair. He’s been spending as much time as he can this week in his studio. Even the other members and their antics can’t lift his spirits, not when he has to answer Seoyeon’s constant summons for yet another photo op. And while he’s got her hanging onto his arm, Yoongi can think of nothing other than Y/n. 

He remembers how angry he was when he found out that you’d been an ARMY all along. It seems like ages ago, and yet the sense of betrayal is fresh in his mind. He can only imagine how you’re feeling now… 

~~~

“Miss L/n?”

You stand, taking the well-dressed man’s offered hand. “That’s me, hi.”

“Nice to meet you, you can call me Mr. Park. So, Avery Lee messaged me saying you’re looking to join our agency?”

You nod, fidgeting with the sleeve of your heavy coat. “Yes, until recently– well, I guess you could say I had a freelance manager. I can’t work with her anymore, and Avery said I should sign with an agency.”

“She’s right. Rising stars like you need guidance. So,” Mr. Park says, settling back into his plush leather chair and staring at you from across his desk. “Tell me about yourself. What makes you valuable to FYP Entertainment?”

You swallow. “I’m a third-year acting major at Seoul Arts University. I’ve been an active member of the theatre club and improv club, and competed in Central Seoul’s Improv Showdown twice. I was a featured extra in BTS’s Possible music video. I’ve modeled in Premier Bride Korea and for Beauty of the Seoul’s lipstick line. I recently appeared in a cologne commercial for Fierce, and I was an extra in Medicine of the Heart, a medical drama. Most notably, I play Kim Ji-Woo, a recurring character, alongside BTS’s Suga in Moon Over the Sea.”

Mr. Park rubs his chin. “That’s a long list for a pretty actress who’s never belonged to an agency. And I see an overlap– how familiar are you with Bangtan’s members?”

You fight the urge to laugh; has he not seen the tabloids? “Quite- quite familiar. We’re friends.”

“Just friends?” Mr. Park leans back. “I’ll be honest, Miss L/n, right now the only reason anyone knows your name is as Suga’s ex-girlfriend. Taking you on would be a gamble, and one I’m not sure would pay off for us. I need to know that you’re more than just a scandal– that you’ve got real talent.”

You inhale sharply, but instead of the overwhelming nervousness you were expecting, you feel only determination. They can’t hurt you anymore. “I’m talented. I’m experienced. And I’ll put in the work, sir– I always do. My relationship with Yoongi had no influence over either of my related jobs; I was scouted for the Possible video at a cafe, and Kim Seokjin was the original casting choice for Moon Over the Sea. I can’t deny that knowing Yoongi has helped my popularity, but I got my work, all of it, on my own. Sir.”

Mr. Park stares at you for a long while. “How are your grades?”

You blink. “Sorry?”

“You said you’re a student. How have you been doing in classes? I mean, all this work must keep you from school.”

“Fine,” you say hurriedly. “I, uh, haven’t let it interfere with my degree. I’m very efficient at multitasking.” A little white lie can’t hurt. You’re leaving to film in two days, you’ll check in with your professors tomorrow to make sure you’re good to go.

“That’s very admirable,” Mr. Park says. “And reassuring to hear. We like knowing our clients have the qualifications to continue in the workforce after retiring from entertainment.”

You nod, suddenly shivering at a chill you know isn’t real. 

“Well, I’ve received a glowing recommendation from Avery Lee, who’s worked with us for years. You certainly have more experience than many of our new stars. And a connection, even one like yours, with a group as big as BTS could help you go far. If you, as you said, ‘put in the work’,” Mr. Park smiles briefly. “Then I’d be willing to make this particular gamble, Miss L/n. Will you sign with FYP Entertainment?”

“I-” Yes! “I’d have to look at the contract first, Mr. Park. I’m sure we can negotiate a good outcome, and I’m very optimistic about my future with this agency.”

Mr. Park chuckles. “I see you know how to play the game. Your email is on the form you gave to my assistant– I’ll have her send you the contract today. And, Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“I’d stay in touch with those boys– maybe not Yoongi, if your relationship ended badly, but… They have more power than any of us know. If you really want to get big, stick with BTS.”

You furrow your brow. Now that you think about it, it’s been a minute since your last dinner together– after all, you were meant to see them on the night you found out about Lisa’s disappearance. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

When you leave the office, you pull out your phone and call Hoseok.

“Yyyyyyellow?”

“Hobi, it’s me.”

“Y/n?” Hoseok’s voice changes. “Uh, what can I do for you?”

“Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to have a Bangtan plus-one dinner again? It’s been a while.” 

“Yeah, um… What about Yoongi hyung?”

You feel a vague burning inside your chest. “He’s invited too, if he’s not busy with his new girlfriend. Our relationship was fake, remember?”

“Ah, yeah, right. How about tonight, then? Come over, Seokjin hyung’s making a souffle for dessert. We can hit a few clubs later? There’s some that are VIP enough that we can be safe.”

You laugh; Hoseok is so good at making you feel relaxed. Still, you don’t know if you’re hoping Yoongi does or doesn’t show. Either way– “That sounds excellent. See you tonight!”

~~~

"What do you want?” Yoongi growls into his phone.

“Don’t sound so grumpy, sweetheart.” Seoyeon’s voice in his ear is like poison. “I just wanted to let you know we’re going out tonight.”

“I have plans.”

Seoyeon giggles, far too happily for such a sadist. “Oh, but Suga-bear, you don’t have a choice! Let’s meet at Club Xyon at ten, okay?”

“I hate you.”

“You’re so silly! See you then. Oh,” Seoyeon’s voice turns dark. “And don’t forget what happens if you don’t show.”

A/N tysm for reading!!! <3

[ghostmartyr]

So if you, like me, have nothing to do but wonder about the state of my inbox, you might rightfully be wondering how I plan to deal with the obscene backlog I have spent so many years failing to deal with.

If you have never wondered that, fear not, that doesn’t exclude you from finding out.

Today we’re just going to go through my entire slew of unanswered asks, and instead of answering them, I am going to provide excuses for why I didn’t do anything with them.

For added fun, several of the asks were in my Drafts.

I will not be cutting out the comments I started to make.

I will no doubt regret this.

Let’s have a time, shall we?

I don’t even know what year this is from. If I remember correctly, I didn’t get back to you because I thought about trying to reason out who would legitimately win, and there were too many points for both sides. I kept intending to come up with a proper answer, then time went by and this got buried.

Though the actual answer is probably “it depends on who gets the main character sticker at the time.”

...

..

.

Well.

I can tell you this is multiple years old.

We, as humans, aren’t equipped for time travel.

I didn’t answer this one because I didn’t feel like it was asking for one, and I’m only reproducing it here because it is really, really funny now.

Two years old. Plus change.

I think the entire reason I never replied to this one is that it cheered me up whenever I scrolled down enough to see it, so thank you.

You know, I entered the link at the time. Really, I did. But then came trying to come up with a comment and what can you really follow that with?

(Click the link.)

Okay then.

I still feel no need to respond to this, so that’s probably why I didn’t to start with.

Historia and literally anyone.

I don’t remember why I didn’t answer this, which usually means some combination of feeling tired and not being in the mood to scroll down to where it was.

Oops.

The thing is, this crosses dangerously close to being a fic idea. Fic ideas take time and effort. You can imagine the absolute dread I felt at having to engage with either concept.

It would have been a lot of fun to do, though. Hats off.

See, again. This is a very interesting concept that requires thought. I can tell you when I received it I was in no mood for anything that required anything of the sort.

I wrote a fic that is possibly never going to see the light of day now where they hang out in a kitchen with hot chocolate together and bond through unstated trauma and Frieda attempting to make things better.

That probably contributed to interfering with imagining how they would actually get along.

Anyway, I ship them slightly in that fic AU. Don’t @ me.

Oh dang. I remember this.

I actually really wanted to answer it, but the problem is that I wanted to come up with a good answer. Every character, tiered by their chances. A full Hunger Games edition of what went down and who killed who.

Then I didn’t.

Anyway, turns out the answer is that no one feels the need to chop of rocking chairs in a hurry, so she’d last a long time!

I didn’t answer this because I try to avoid responding with, “I don’t know.” My secondary answer would probably have been, “By being killed.”

Not that there’s anything wrong with those answers, but unless there’s been a tonal trend in asks, I assume that pithy answers that don’t actually have any meat behind them would not be appreciated.

I would stick to him probably being killed, though. But some signs do point to him being relatively immortal.

Hm.

Hmm.

I don’t know why I didn’t answer this, but I would guess it had something to do with me caring very little about Ymir’s thoughts on anything outside of her little clutch of people. And ongoing trauma of repeated dead/alive Ymir commentary killing off my desire to come up with a good answer.

Sorry?

I... have no idea why I didn’t answer this? Maybe I didn’t see it?

Anyway, yes.

There’s a longer version behind that yes, and I’m sure that might have contributed to never getting around to answering this. ...Assuming a past where I did actually see this one.

I have a confession.

I don’t really like crossovers.

There’s a sliding scale of degree, but that’s basically why this didn’t get a response.

Ah, we’ve landed on a recurring theme.

Sometimes, answers involve me thinking about the entire cast.

The usual consequence of that is I don’t have the energy for that, so nothing ever happens with these.

Oh, this one’s easy.

I had no fucking clue.

No ideas, head empty.

That didn’t seem like a good answer, so here we are, probably around a year later. I still have no clue. If I were forced to write a singing duo AU, I would probably just put some adjectives and nouns into a blender and flip a coin.

Names are hard.

I think I didn’t answer this one because I felt like I’d answered similar asks before. And I’m not really sure when this is from, but it’s possible canon complicated coming up with an answer that wasn’t distressed screeching.

Something something give Connie and Mikasa hugs, not partial about where they get them from.

Apparently not. Oops.

I can’t remember why I didn’t respond to this one. It’s possible the oodles of bad parenting proved too distracting to formulate such a post.

Sometimes I get an ask, and my immediate, gut reaction is, how the fuck should I know?

If I can move past that, the ask is answered.

If I can’t, the ask continues its descent through scroll hell.

I am sorry. There are no answers here.

Yeah, this is just the same as the above, just with I have no idea.

It’d probably be a Madoka Magic deal.

Huh. I don’t remember passing this one over. If I were to guess a timeline, I was probably too bitter over potential post-timeskip looks that I never got to be interested in focusing on the characters lucky enough to get good ones.

Go Connie for being less short, I suppose.

This clearly belonged to something that I was doing, but time has eroded the context, so I am simply left with failure and disappointment on all sides. Sorry.

Aw, we’re getting into the boring part of the inbox now, I think. Not because of the questions; you guys are always great. But I can’t think of a reason why I wouldn’t have answered this, which leads me to think that the reason was I was too tired to put words together.

That’s a boring reason, so maybe I should go into Drafts for the next few...

Yeah, still unfairly prejudiced against crossovers. I am no fun, etc. etc.

I have no memory of it, but I feel like I didn’t answer this because there was no way I could match this kindly anon’s enthusiasm.

You go, random internet person.

You have good ideas.

Oh no.

Uh.

See.

I know exactly why I didn’t answer this one.

I am so sorry, Anon.

I really didn’t care.

I am filled with affection for you because you clearly do, but uh.

...I basically put this on Read.

This has a very simple, ie boring, explanation. Any time someone asks about the cast as a whole, I want to think about the cast as a whole, and that takes a lot more thought than most of the asks I get. Cue putting it off. Cue it getting lost in scroll hell. On and on we go until we end up here.

Anything that opens with kilometers is something that requires more brain power than I have had in the past year.

Also I think I got this during a spoiler week, so I saw it, but I was trying not to look at it, and then it got lost in the post-chapter asks.

That happens a lot.

We might see it more soon.

If I can’t come up with words more than “-shrug-” I try not to answer.

...Good news, though!

The manga did my job for me!

I feel like I answered some variation of this. That might be why I didn’t answer this specific one.

The wiki does a better job keeping track of the timeline than I ever have. I probably didn’t answer this because it would involve trying to remember which volume actually name-dropped a number of weeks or months. Searching for lines I know a character said is pretty easy, but searching out lines I have a vague feeling of someone providing? That tends to hit the frustration button with the force of a truck.

But yeah, if you ever want to know how long something took, the wiki is absolutely your friend. They do good work.

Consider: “What if” questions are hard, and I am lazy.

This is actually one I really did mean to get to, sorry. It’s an interesting thought, and I miss Sasha.

...I clearly did a magnificent job answering your asks, friend.

Prediction asks are hard for me; I feel like I’m throwing darts randomly into the air and the dartboard is still deciding if it’s going to show up. So uh. I guess I just kept putting this off until it didn’t get answered.

This post is going to have so many apologies. Implied and otherwise.

I continue to be the No Fun Police who accidentally-on-purpose avoids crossover commentary.

I feel like I didn’t answer this one entirely because seeing it in my inbox gave me far too much joy to have it lost in a sea of posts.

This is what my inbox was made for.

I have no idea when this was from, but I see your emotions and appreciate them, Anon.

...Did I not see this one?

Hey, Anon who probably doesn’t remember sending this: This is a good ask and deserved some good attention, and I’m sorry I missed my shot at it. Good thoughts.

I didn’t answer this one entirely because I knew I couldn’t match the energy of it, and responding with anything less felt heretical.

That is one hell of a mood, Anon.

This is definitely from the era of, “Can’t think, brain empty.” Sorry about not getting back to you, I just really couldn’t organize my thoughts well enough to come up with an answer.

I feel like I didn’t know what this was continuing from and was too exhausted to ask.

LOOK YOU CAN SEE I WANTED TO ANSWER THIS BECAUSE IT’S A DRAFT.

Too many things, Anon.

I liked so many things about all of that. Trying to turn that enthusiasm into words wasn’t agreeing with me, so I put it in Drafts and told myself one day I’d do the most awesome post detailing everything.

Intentions, huh?

Every time I tried to take a normal screenshot with formatting Tumblr just laughed at me, so that might have been a contributing factor.

Dang, I’m really sorry. This is another one of those cases where I wanted to take my time with a response, and I took too long.

I, uh.

Am guilty of not being too interested in pondering Ymir’s thoughts on Levi or Erwin.

That’s it, that’s the explanation.

Yeah, I just couldn’t come up with an answer here? Or someone else asked? Or several of my friends decided to be annoying about lists on Discord? I don’t even know.

Presumably there could be a list.

There is not.

Honestly, I just couldn’t figure out how to follow that starting sentence up. A thought exercise on Armin, Historia, gender, and themes sounded really interesting, and I put it in Drafts so as not to forget it being interesting.

Then, you know. This post sort of paints the picture.

Ah.

Man, I really was looking forward to putting some proper thought into this. That’s the problem with having so many things I love in one place, I guess. Symbolism? Historia and Ymir? Mikasa? So many good things! Where do I start!

With paralyzing indecision that results in not a lot. Sorry, Anon. This really did light up my day when I got it.

Here’s the thing about me and writing:

I often fail to.

(I love both these ideas, though.)

Yes.

Do I know why I didn’t get around to answering this?

Absolutely not.

But yes, I’d agree with that.

GOOD NEWS!

The manga actually gave us some of them together in the future.

I occasionally giggled over their shared distaste.

It was a good time.

And this is another one I just do not know why I didn’t answer, whoops.

This never got answered because I couldn’t come up with an answer.

Broad questions are scary because they can go just about anywhere and I didn’t know how to handle that level of commitment.

I think I didn’t answer this one, A), because words are hard, and B), because mostly I just wanted to listen to more of your wondering and less of mine.

I probably could have answered this by saying I don’t have any, but that seemed rude, so I didn’t respond to it at all.

Yep.

Frieda is worthy of my time and effort.

Landing this in Drafts instead of my inbox.

Where the lighting makes it more obvious that hope has gone there to die.

I think about it so much too.

I find the answers fundamentally upsetting.

That is probably why I did not provide an answer here.

That is a lot of kids to make up headcanons for.

So I didn’t.

She’s eaten by dogs before she develops a personality.

Since that seemed like the wrong thing to say, I said nothing, and into Drafts this went.

‘I have no earthly clue’ seemed similarly unhelpful.

At this point, we understand that there is no mystery to my backlog.

This one hurts.

-sees the 112 reference-

Wow does it hurt.

As I hope is obvious, I really, really loved this question, and kept meaning to carve out time to work on it specifically. What went sideways was trying to put words to how EMA functions. I knew the feel of what I wanted to express, but every time I tried to write it, it came out wonky.

I’m very sorry I couldn’t do anything for this, because I was thrilled to spend time with it.

I didn’t answer this because Fuck Marley.

It’s nothing against you. At the time, I simply wasn’t in any mood to consider any version of Marley. Even the canon version was too much for me, so giving it my time in a roleswap AU had me hissing.

Roleswaps in general are amazing, and I love them a lot. A dedicated person could make a fantastic one based around Marley and Paradis. I think it would probably be cool af.

But I was so tired of Marley when I got this, I just couldn’t make myself think about it. Sorry. It’s a fun idea.

I didn’t answer this one because I kept trying to extend my response past, “I think he just really likes baseball.”

I think he just really likes baseball.

My feelings on that as a quality answer are derogatory.

Mm. The ones where I actually tried to get something started hurts.

Ultimately, this ask was a larger demand than I could make my brain work through at the time. I made sure to write down the tl;dr version of Sasha’s, because I found that desperately important, and not something that people talk about much, but the additional weight of trying to think of themes for multiple characters made it hard to progress.

Me, looking at the prompts: Hi my brain left me.

Sorry, Anon. Too many gears were moving for me to get a proper feel for what I wanted to do with this one, so I ended up ditching it. ...I was planning to finish it, though. Eventually. See, I even put the quote in the Draft version as a reminder of what I was doing, so I could get back to it right away.

Yeeeeah, this is just one more to the “I will give this wonderful thing all the time it deserves!” pile.

The pile is stored in the Failure Corner.

Perfectionism is the enemy of progress.

You guys really like crossovers.

I love that for you.

-spends two years ignoring you-

I mean, I just didn’t know what to do with the rainbows.

They sure are there.

They sure are pretty.

I sure couldn’t come up with a comment to add.

...I don’t know why I didn’t answer this. Possibly because I think it’s fine? I’m not too attached to it, and spent the whole manga period wanting to watch an anime version instead, then we got an anime version.

I’d guess that my general “meh” feelings interfered with responding here.

No idea why I didn’t answer this.

Yes, and good for you.

I support all thoughts on giving the Reiss kiddos personalities.

I think I didn’t get back to you on this because I wasn’t sure how to encourage you to keep going so I just sat awkwardly on my hands and felt weird about not saying anything.

...Thanks for sharing!

I love how it’s the little things that date these.

Unfortunately, we’re now at the point where 90% of the reason I didn’t answer was because I was too sick to muster up anything approaching enthusiasm.

Or because I’d just finished answering a bunch of chapter-specific things and was burnt out.

This felt pretty self-explanatory to me, so I felt like that gave me permission to ignore it.

Also, it mentions Marley.

I might be slightly petty.

Really though, I think what stopped me from giving a proper answer is that the question of what an author is trying to say throws me off a little. I work better thinking of it in terms of what the story is saying, with the author just happening to be the hands that wrote it all down.

I don’t know. This was probably another case of feeling like I should give this more of my time than I was able.

I couldn’t decide.

That’s it.

That’s the reason.

Everyone needs to give Mikasa a hug.

My blog title for a hug.

-the crossover snake hisses and consumes another-

I am so sorry.

This is fun.

I probably should have just gone with posting and saying so, because I am genuinely charmed by this. I tend to feel like I have to add something to asks to justify the post. That policy maybe didn’t need to be a thing.

I love my anons.

I want that to be clear.

Really, I do.

I especially love their willingness to embrace my crackpot logic.

Still.

Sometimes, the only response one can have to Schrodinger’s Ymir is to ignore its existence, find a pillow, and scream into it for the rest of time.

This replaces typing.

-looks at Armin-

-looks at Eren-

Yeah, don’t know why I didn’t answer this one, either. I blame tiredness? Sorry about that.

I feel like I didn’t answer this one because it felt like work.

This is where I start considering that making this post was a mistake.

I could have just agreed with you and gone about my day.

Probably should have.

Did not.

Another one for that, “had nothing to add so I just left it in a corner, abandoned and unloved,” pile.

There is an apology section at the end, but we’re not there yet.

This one I don’t think I noticed.

Alternatively, I did notice, and wasn’t sure “Yes,” would pass as a good enough answer.

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

Okay, time to really just get into it: I think for the remainder of my inbox, I didn’t answer because physically, I was just too damn exhausted, and I kept waiting for a point in time where I’d feel better. Sorry to put a limit on the personalization, but in the end, that’s all there was to it, and rephrasing it a dozen times will make me crazy.

And here we are.

Well.

Good grief, do you guys even have any clue how much I like all of you?

Obviously there’s a lot of guilt in the above, because I can’t tell you how much I wanted, each time, to give a great answer that would make you thrilled you messaged me. I am so sorry to all of these I didn’t get to. There were days when the alerts in my inbox were the best thing to happen to me, and I never wanted to let any of them go without acknowledgment.

I try to say thank you as often as I can in my responses, because that’s as close as I can get to reminding you all, constantly, that I am grateful for your participation. The only times I don’t say it is when I worry that it’ll look like it’s being done out of habit, not genuine gratitude. Or when I think you might take it the wrong way if I say thanks for a basic conversation. Because you provide me content and make me interested in things I might not normally look twice at.

There are so many instances of people saying hi, and thank you, and wishing everyone well here.

I haven’t been active in the larger fandom in two years, but I have always been so happy that you guys kept dropping by my space anyway.

You are a pleasure and light in my life, no matter how much snark I might throw about.

Thank you all.

[jimlingss]

The Colour of Our Voices [15]

Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16

➜ Words: 4k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

cr.

Every relationship has its own set of difficulties, its ups and downs.   It’s just painful that you can’t be together when you want to. You never knew there’d come a point where your goals, dreams, and ambitions would contend with your relationship. It seems like it’s either one or the other and you don’t know if you can pick — if he would choose what you would.   You hope that with time, it’ll pass.    You try not to show how hurt you are over the missed date night incident even though it makes you overwhelmingly sad. But you can laugh at it a little when you’re faced with a different kind of reaction instead of sadness — rage.   “He fucking forgot?!” Yeonjeon is hysterical and her disgust is practically tangible. “Oh my god. I’m going to kill him.”   She gets up, but you pull her arm down with a laugh. Jimin’s at work. She probably wouldn’t know where to look for him even if she tried. “Hey, don’t kill him, I still love him.”   “Yeah, and it’s a mistake,” the actress says right out and rolls her eyes. “God, I can’t believe I had a crush on that motherfucker. All men are pigs, aren’t they? What an asshole!”   “It was an accident.” You shrug.   “Uh-huh. Pathetic is what it is.”   “He’s been really tired lately.”   “Umm, don’t defend him in my house.” She’s personally offended and is still fuming. “He can’t even remember a date. Does he have one brain cell?”   “No. He has at least two,” you giggle.   Yeonjeon shakes her head, but softens. Suddenly, she puts her hands on your shoulders, making you look at her. “Listen, Y/N. Just dump Jimin.”   Immediately, you burst out laughing. “I love him too much to dump him.”   “Well, fame changes people,” she states coldly. “He probably thinks he’s some kind of big shot now because he’s has some stupid role in a movie.”   You smile at her sheepishly.   It doesn’t seem like fame changed him. More like fame changed his life. It changed yours too — if you could even call it fame.   “Anyways, enough about that jerk—”   “Yeonjeon,” you warn her with a pout. He’s your boyfriend after all so you’ll defend him till the end.   “—how’s your own projects going so far?”   “They’re going fine. Rapunzel doesn’t have that many lines and she doesn’t actually sing any lyrics, but in the scenes that she is in, they’re pretty important. I’m having fun. Plus the people there are really nice to work with too.”   “You know what?” She snaps her fingers. “Now that I think about it. Rapunzel fits you perfectly.” You laugh at her and she eyes you. “What? It just does.”   Someone else had told you that — a boy that you miss dearly. 

Jimin’s been having a recurring nightmare recently — one where he’s a four year old again and he’s stacking blocks as high as he can.    It doesn’t sound so bad, but always when he has the last block in his hand and goes to top off the tower, he can see it teeter. He knows what’s about to happen, He can see it right in front of him. But no matter what he does, how carefully he deals with the blocks, he can’t stop it from tumbling down.   The worst part is knowing the inevitable, but being unable to stop it. To see the collapse before it happens.   “Going home already, Park?”   The corner of Jungkook’s mouth curls, eyes flickering down to how Jimin’s gathering his belongings. His bag and coat are slung over his arms as if he’s being chased by debt collectors and needs to run out as soon as possible.   “Why so soon?” Chanyeol throws his arm around the younger’s shoulder, pulling him in. “I thought we were gonna go out for drinks again tonight.”   “I’m good.” Jimin slyly and discreetly moves the actor’s arm off of him. “I think I’m gonna head home early. I’m pretty tired.”   “Oh come on. Don’t be a downer. We even have our day off tomorrow. We should celebrate, don’t you think?” Chanyeol grins and looks across the set. “Hey, Director! You want to come with us again?”   Yoongi, the camera director looks up from what he’s doing and shrugs. “Sure.”   “See? Even Min’s coming. What are you waiting for?”   It’s not rare to drink with the other cast members after a long day of filming. Usually outings can range from three to four people to every person on the set. They’re a good bunch but he wishes there weren't so many eyes on him right now.   “What else would you be doing at home?”   “He’s whipped for some girl at home, that’s why,” Jungkook says with a laugh. “Let him go if he really doesn’t want to come.”   “That so?” Chanyeol raises his brows. “You can invite her.”   “No, she works fairly early. She’s probably asleep right now.”   “Then what are you going home for? Come on,” he insists, and Jimin succumbs to the pressure.   //   They’re huddled in a private room at the back of the fancy nightclub. It’s exclusive, sofas softer than expected, the back light of the walls creating a sensual ambiance and everything he drinks feels expensive. Jimin guesses this is what fame and fortune buys you.   One of the girls working at the nightclub comes over with a tray of drinks, gorgeous with her dress that’s too small and too short, and her cleavage practically spilling out. Chanyeol whistles, tipping her with a pretty bill which she smiles to, and the actor notices the way Jimin diverts his eyes.   “This girl of yours must be one hell of a woman,” he comments out of the blue and has Jimin’s eyes widening.   “Me?”   “Yeah, you, Park. Who else would I be talking about?” The handsome actor laughs boisterously, perhaps having taken one too many drinks.   “Apparently they’re neighbours,” Jungkook pipes up, remembering the story Jimin told a few weeks ago.   “Oof, brutal.” Chanyeol shakes his head. “If you guys break up, you’re gonna have to definitely move.”   “We’re not going to break up,” Jimin instinctively states. It’s almost defensive in a way and he hopes they don’t notice the nervous tick in his fingers.   There’s an exchange of expressions around the table. “You’re going to get married to her then?”   “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably.”   “Ooh, he is whipped,” Chanyeol sing-songs, but it also sounds sharp.   Jungkook frowns. “You really want to tie yourself down so soon? I mean, it’s not a bad thing.”   “It is a bad thing,” the other actor corrects, “Jimin’s young and good looking. You shouldn’t tie yourself down so early. You haven’t even begun to experience what kind of girls are out there….”   Jimin doesn’t say anything. He takes the shot that’s in front of him. It’s bitter in his mouth, disgusting, but he ignores the actual taste to chase after the free feeling it gives him instead.   “You’re cute — girls like that sort of thing. Trust me, you’ll be missing out if you tie yourself down now, Park. You have the rest of your life to be serious,” Chanyeol continues before his eyes flicker to the person across from him. “Right, Min?”   Yoongi sighs and Chanyeol laughs, explaining, “He’s divorced. His ex-wife’s some critic who runs her own blog. They had to reach a huge settlement and it took two years in court, but get this, she didn’t change her last name back. She kept Min just to fuck with him.”   “That’s enough,” Yoongi pipes up, cat-like eyes narrowed in on his drink. He throws it back and exhales afterwards. “I don’t want to talk about it.”   The actor smiles, gripping his glass. “I got married to my high school sweetheart, and it’s an absolute nightmare.” Chanyeol grins and shakes his head, lighthearted in the way he talks and it makes Jimin’s own mouth quirk. “She’s bat shit insane.”   Jungkook grins. “Didn’t she key your car?”   “Broke my windshield too with a fucking brick.”   Jimin blinks hard, unable to believe it. “Christ.”   “They’re not crazy at the start, trust me. Everything’s always nice at the beginning — everyone’s in love, doesn’t matter that they like to call up their ex, that they want to forgo condoms and skip their birth control….”   Jungkook snickers at Chanyeol’s woes and even Yoongi is amused. “I was an idiot, to say the least,” he sighs. “Not that I didn’t have my own problems, but I rushed into it way too quickly. What can you do, right? It would be bearable if not for the nagging.”   “This is why I don’t do relationships,” Jungkook comments with his lips tightly drawn in a line.   “Smart man.” He lifts his glass and they clink their drinks together. Jimin’s persuaded to take another shot. “Don’t you ever feel held down by her?” Chanyeol asks, smacking his lips. “Doesn’t she nag or anything?”   “I wouldn’t say that….” Jimin considers it and his intoxication makes the words slip out recklessly. “She asks where I’m going. She texts me to ask when I’m coming home. She complains when I’m out late...sometimes.” The brunette shrugs. “She just worries about me.”   “Sounds like a burden to me,” Chanyeol remarks.   Suddenly Yoongi’s silence is broken. His eyes perceive more than they let on. “Does she ever make you feel bad for doing what you want?”   “That’s a good point.” Jungkook nods and leans over to look at the brunette, propping his elbow on the table, chin in his hand. “You shouldn’t feel bad about doing what you want.”   Jimin remains quiet. He drinks.   It’s silent for a while, unsettlingly so and as each person waits for him to answer, Jimin never speaks. He never lifts his eyes away from the table. Chanyeol ends up clearing his throat.    “What’s with this somber mood? Let’s change the subject! Come on, I’m getting too sober to be around you ugly motherfuckers. Shots, people!” They clink glasses together, laughing and moving on from the heavy topic of conversation.   But they’re unknowing to just how it resonates with Jimin more than it should.   He wants to be here — but you make him feel like he should be at home instead. He wants to perform, on screen or on Broadway — but you make him feel bad for being so busy. He loves you, but he feels guilty for your conflicting schedules, for not seeing you enough, even though this is all he’s been dreaming of, this is what he wanted…   Jimin drinks and swallows past the thick lump forming in his throat.   //   The slamming door shakes you from your slumber. You turn around in your sheets, listening to the oncoming stomping footsteps, an irregular pattern instead of a consistent beat as if someone’s stumbling. The bedroom door creaks open and then Jimin dives into the sheets.   He opens his arms and falls to his front, his arm hitting your shoulder.   “What are you doing?” You rub your eyes and with a sigh, you sit up. You reach over to flicker the bedside lamp on. “Did you drink?”   You can smell the alcohol radiating off of him, and it’s stronger than ever before. It’s surprising considering he’s usually a responsible drinker who always knows how to pace himself.   One side of Jimin’s face is squished into the sheets, the other facing you. One of his eyes open. The pair of you stare at each other.    “I love you.” The words slur and he exhales. “But goddamn ‘s hard sometimes.”   You sigh again, getting up to take off his shoes as he lays there. You peel off his socks too, throwing them onto the ground for him to deal with it himself in the morning. “You didn’t even take off your jacket.”   At least it’s his day off tomorrow, so he can get plenty of rest and recover — it doesn’t look like he’ll have a pleasant time in the morning. Unfortunately, the case is not the same for you. You have to wake up in three hours, so you’re not impressed to say the least.   You climb over top of him, taking off his coat. Jimin’s arms are limp like noodles and he turns his head to stare straight at you. “‘Hy do you make me feel bad…’bout doing what I want, huh?”   “What are you talking about, Jimin?”   You go to unbutton his stained dress shirt reeking of spilled alcohol, but he abruptly shoves his hands off of him. “‘Could get so many girls….”   “You could get so many girls?” Your eyebrow cocks. “Do you want to get girls?”   “Dunno.”   “Alright, Casanova.” You smile. “Let’s get you changed and to bed, ‘kay?”   As you’re unbuttoning his shirt, peaceful silence settles around. Jimin savours the warmth of your hands on his skin, gazing at how your eyes are concentrated but still sleepy, how messy your hair is from twisting in the bed sheets and turning against the pillow. Your edges are soft in the yellow, dim light of the lamp. You’re practically glowing.   “’re gonna break up, aren’t we?”   The reaction is immediate. Your hands halt. Your lips fall. Your blood runs cold.   “What?”    “We’re gonna break up,” Jimin says it like he’s announcing it, like he’s decided himself.   Your bottom lips tremble, hands quivering, and you quickly get off of him to collect yourself. You want to brush it off that he’s intoxicated, that doesn’t know what he’s saying. But drunk words are sober thoughts.   “What are you saying?”   “Do you know who I am?” His tongue slurs heavily, syllables melted together, and the man sits up slowly, swaying from side to side.   “Who are you?” Your voice cracks against your will, eyes glossy and looking into his.   “Cute — ‘Andsome — young — Park J-Jimin…..” He giggles with a finger in the air and he points at you. “‘M missing out by being with you, did ya know that? ‘Nd why do you make me feel guilty for doing what I want, huh? I wanna to go out and party and drink and meet girls and perform, but I gotta go home to you….sucks, man.”   “It sucks, huh?” You swallow hard, fist curling tight into the sheets. “So you want to break up with me?”   “’Ts gonna end anyways. Look at us.” Jimin falls onto his back again, cozying up in the sheets. “Don’t even see each other anymore.”   “So this is it?” You ask again and again, not knowing where this is coming from, unable to believe that it’s happening.   “Where else it gonna go?”   You’re silent. You remove yourself from him, bringing your shaking hands into your lap. He lays there like a dead body, but he doesn’t fall asleep just yet despite the temptation being so strong.   “What happened to the Jimin I first met?” you ask quietly, a mere whisper leaving your parted lips. You don’t know who this arrogant asshole is — a stranger has entered your home.   “’S not here no more,” he mumbles, “Fame changed me. ’M not some sad dude pinning after you anymore.”   “Go to bed, Jimin,” you spit out the command harsher than you thought was possible. It goes silent and you watch him sprawl in your bed, limbs spread freely and his chest rising and falling as he snores. You reach over to turn off the lamp and grab your pillow, shoving his head off of it.    You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and try to sleep out on the couch for the remaining hours. But it’s hard when you’re so restless.   //   The sunlight pierces through the window and into his eyes. He groans, shaken awake and brought to consciousness and to his head throbbing. His head aches and he feels sickly, the world swirling around him.    Jimin gets up and stumbles to the bathroom to relieve his bladder. He tries to wash his face afterwards and brush his teeth. When he leaves, he holds onto the door frame to brace himself and he hears noisy clanging in the kitchen that makes him wince.   He staggers out, shocked to see you. “What are you doing here?”   Jimin’s voice cracks and he moves to get water to quench his painful thirst. Your back stays turned to him.    “It’s one in the afternoon,” you state rather coldly, mumbling from the corner of your mouth. “I asked to come home early. I remembered I’m allowed to do that.”   He raises a brow and finishes drinking an entire bottle. “Are you still mad at me for forgetting our date night?”   It goes quiet. You don’t spare him a glance, simply putting the dishes away. The loud clanging has him flinching.   “I already said I’m sorry,” he reasons, “I got you flowers!”   You don’t know what he’s talking about and you don’t care to learn.   “Y/N.”   You came home to talk to him but now that he’s here, you know that you’ll regret what wants to come out. “Y/N.”   “Y/N,” Jimin repeats for the third time. He approaches and secures his hands on your shoulders, forcibly turning you around to face him. “Are you ignoring me?”   “Don’t touch me.” You shove his hands off of you, stepping back. His eyes frantically search your hurt expression and he’s utterly confused. “Please. Just don’t.”   “W-What’s wrong?”   “You don’t remember anything about last night?” you ask him, loudly, enough to strain your own voice.   Jimin winces again. “Can you not shout at me? I have a headache.”   “You said….you wanted to break up with me,” you whisper, unable to believe it yourself. When you say it with your own mouth, it stings and you want to burst out crying. Jimin watches the way your expression crumples and he pales.    It slowly comes back to him in waves, vague but he begins to remember bits and pieces, enough to know what he���s done.   “Hey.” Jimin reaches out, stepping closer. But he retracts his hand. “I’m sorry.”   “You always are.”   Maybe it shouldn’t be a big deal. He was drunk, inebriated, not in full control of his words — but to know he was even thinking about it, to know that he’s lined up the reasons for his dissatisfaction with your relationship, to hear it be said aloud, hurts.    “I’m sorry. I really am.” He searches the floor and musters the courage to lift his eyes. “You don’t believe me?”   “It’s not that I don’t believe you aren’t sorry,” you murmur, “I just think you’re sorry that I know what you think now.”   “Oh come on, babe. Y/N.” Jimin follows you to the living room. “I didn’t mean it.”   “Really?” You stop on your heel. You hate this — hate being upset and angry, hate feeling at a loss, hate spiraling out of control. “Not the part where you think I’m basically a huge burden to you now? Not the part where you want to get girls and go to parties and how I make you feel bad about doing the things you want? Not the part where you’re no longer pathetic enough to love me? Or what was it that you said, oh yeah, you’re not some sad guy pinning after me anymore.”   “I was drunk.”   “Were you? Or were they your sober thoughts?”   He sighs in frustration. Your loud voice is worsening his headache. And this isn’t what he wanted to do first thing he woke up — he doesn’t want to argue with you. But he doesn’t know how to make it stop.   “I think that it’s unfair you’re using this against me when I was wasted.”   “You told me that we should break up because we don’t even see each other anymore. Because what else was supposed to happen to us,” you softly whisper, crossing your arms, holding yourself. Now that he can answer clearly, now he’s not drunk anymore, there are no excuses. “So what is that you want from us, Jimin? Do I really make you feel guilty for doing the things you want to do? Is that how you feel about me now?”   “No, that’s not it. I’m...I’m sorry.”   “You’re selfish,” you say, spitefully. “That’s what you are. Always have been.”   Jimin scoffs outright. “Selfish?”   “All you think about is yourself. What you want. What you don’t have. What you’re missing out on. You’re supposed to think about the other person in a relationship. We’re supposed to sacrifice, compromise — and you’re not willing to do that. You don’t think about me for a second, Jimin.”   “Are you kidding me? I am trying my best! Everything I do is for us and our future together—”   “Really? I thought we didn’t have a future in your plans.”   He ignores your low jab. “I took care of you when you hated me. How’s that sacrifice for you?”   “Well nobody asked! Did they?”   “I love you!” Jimin shouts at the top of his lungs, making his throat dry again. “I’ve loved you longer than you loved me. Even when you were jealous of me, when you hated me, I loved you. And I still love you!”   “Then why did you tell me that I make you feel bad for doing what you want?!” you’re sobbing as the last word comes out, holding your face in your hands. Guilt swallows him whole.   “Because it does. I feel bad that I don’t get enough to spend enough time with you. I feel bad that we’re always waiting for the other person to come home. I feel bad about going out with the cast when I should be having fun and for taking on roles when I know it’ll be time consuming even though that’s been my dream.”   You’re sobbing, shaking your head. “W-What do you want me to do?”   “I don’t know.”    He can’t find a solution, and he’s most certainly not going to make you give up your dream. Jimin’s not going to ask or make you do anything.    Everything caused by ill timing. Caused by stress.    What’s the point of being in a relationship when you can’t even see each other?   It always seems like you have to choose each other or choose your ambitions.   Jimin wants to say boldly that he’ll figure it out with you — that he’ll find a way to do both. He wants to hug you, to embrace you, let you cry into his shoulder as he makes more meaningless apologies. He wants to say that with time, it’ll pass, that your schedules will clear up, that the pair of you will overcome this obstacle.   But he can’t bring himself to say it or to step forward.   “Maybe we should take a break.”   You’re taken aback.   A break? So he can do whatever he wants and thinks he can still have you?   “What’s that supposed to mean?”   “I don’t know,” Jimin admits. “I think we just need some time away from each other to figure this out.”   Without the obligation of having to see you, of having to maintain this relationship, the guilt would disappear. Maybe neither of you would have to feel so bad about yourselves.   But you persist in your questions. “Figure what out? Us?”   Jimin’s frustrated at why you don’t understand. “Well if you don’t like it, then maybe we should just cleanly break it off with one another. If that makes more sense to you.”   “Fine,” you hiss out of unadulterated spite.   His eyes widening, mouth dropping open. He’s shocked at your quick answer.   Jimin’s rendered speechless, breathless. “F-Fine then…”   “Get out of my apartment, Jimin.” You sniffle with your chest heaving.   He can’t believe it’s happening. Everything in his mind screams for him to stop, but his body moves on its own. Then the door slams shut.

[harrys-reverie]

Dog Years // Harry Styles O.U.

Part 3: The Bookstore

a/n: hey everyone! welcome to part 3 of dog years. sorry it took so long on the update -- i just got back to college. i hope you enjoy this chapter!!! i personally consider it harry’s very subtle way of opening up to people (how i’d imagine it) as always like, SHARE, COMMENTS, feedback, all appreciated!!! xoo

STORY PAGE I PART ONE I PART TWO

To be fair I didn’t hear from Jeff or Harry for two whole days. I was starting to feel like they lowkey didn’t want me to be part of their ‘team’ anymore. I couldn’t be bothered even if they didn’t, because at the end of the day I worked for Eve, not them. But at the same time all I could do was sit and recollect about my night with all of them. Everything seemed to go so well, and i really thought they liked me. I liked them.

So since Eve figured my pay was now around the clock, if I wasn’t doing anything that I needed to do be doing something. It was just a bunch of menial tasks like picking up  garbage around the premises, scooping up vile dog shit and what not. Honestly, it kind of sucked. I rather be fetching candles and dropping them off to Harry.

But finally it was Sunday and it was my day off. A part of me wanted to go back to my nans house, stop in and say hi. Then I remembered Sunday’s were her brunch and bingo days and she went out with all her cute old lady friends. I was starting to feel extremely lonely.

So I was left to myself in my little cottage. It was pretty relaxing, but all the time cooped up in here was becoming boring and repetitive. And to think I had 4 months left of this. Just sitting in my bed scrolling through shopping sites putting tons of clothes in a cart I’d never get around to purchasing. Even being payed around the clock wasn’t enough to buy a whole new wardrobe.

So yes, I was starting to get a little antsy that I heard nothing from Harry or Jeff. I sneakily biked by Harry’s cottage multiple times to see if he was still there throughout the two days, and his car was still parked in the driveway each time. I hadn’t seen him even around the premises at all doing anything. Or anyone from his group for that matter. I tried to tell myself by the end of the first day that they were all just super hungover. I knew that was a stretch but it eased my mind. Then yesterday rolled around and I had no comforting excuses for why I hadn’t heard from them.

I expressed my worry to Eve and she insisted that they were probably just getting settled. Okay, I’ll take that. That’s got to be it, right?

As I continued to worry in my head about what may have gone wrong I reached for my phone. Nope, no messages. Fuck. This was quickly becoming a bad habit, constantly checking my phone. Bravely I pressed Jeff’s contact, hovering my thumb over the call option. Should I try to reach out? Eh. Sighing, I locked the phone and tossed it to my side. If they needed me, they would act on it. I didn’t want to be a nuisance and bother any of them.

Focusing my attention back on my laptop I popped open a new tab on my Safari browser. I began typing his name, enter and then search.

Instantly an endless amount of brand new and just days old articles displayed across my screen. Harry Styles this, Harry Styles that. There was one recurring theme throughout all of these article titles though, a girls name - Camille.

“Camille Rowe, ex lover of musician Harry Styles states that he’s ‘overly jealous and begged her to stay when they broke up!’ Oh no, poor H. Read more here.”

“Apparently Harry Styles is a Freak in the Sheets! Ex Girlfriend Camille Rowe recollects on her sex life with the pop star in her new book ’Truth Be Told.’”

“Feeling bad about getting cheated on? Don’t feel bad,Harry Styles has been in your shoes too...his ex girlfriend opens up about the mistakes she made that ultimately led to the lyrics of Harry’s sophomore album, Fine Line.”

I couldn’t help but let out a gasp, all this couldn’t be true, could it? I exited out of the tab quickly, afraid to go on and read more of those terrible headlines. I honestly felt bad if all that was true, and if Harry’s ex girlfriend really did that, then I could only imagine how he might be feeling.

I could tell Harry really valued his privacy, why else would he be out here in the middle of nowhere in complete hiding? I thought back to him telling me how he had a disdain for California, I was now beginning to think she had some sort of connection to it. Poor Harry. Almost instantly I was feeling guilty, like I invaded Harry’s privacy by seeing all of those headlines. Imagining what the whole world most think and know of him right now is extremely unsettling. To bring up how he has sex and his most vulnerable moments and just like everyone know about it, it’s beyond fucked up.

Ting.

The world has a funny way of working making connections sometimes. Deep down in my gut I had a feeling it’d be Harry or Jeff who left me a text, it just had to be. Before I even reached my phone I saw the capital H, I knew it was Harry. Of course, he was texting me now, after I saw all that and felt so fucking bad. If he was any other person I’d ask if he wanted to have a nice chat, bring over some ice cream and wine and help him relax.

I wasn’t slow to swipe up on the message and see what he wrote.

‘Hiiiii Colette. Hope you’re well, it’s Harry. Have a huge favor to ask you whenever you get the chance. X”

Hah, he’s acting me for a favor as if I’m not getting paid to help him with whatever he needs. He’s too nice. I didn’t hesitate to start typing back.

‘Hi, Harry! How are you? I’ve been just well! As for the favor...sure anything :)”

Not even five seconds later my phone was vibrating and ringing at the same time, Harry’s name flashing across the screen. Ah, so he’s one of those people who have to make phone calls for everything. My hands felt like jelly as I went to accept the call. Even though we had a great night, him not talking to me for a couple days made me rethink how great that night might’ve actually been. Maybe I was just super tipsy and thought it was amazing when it was just subpar.

“Hello?” I chimed, placing the phone to my ear.

His deep Americanized-British accent greeted me, “Morning Colette!” He sounded extra chirpy this morning.

“Harry! Haven’t heard from you in a while..” I replied nervously.

There was a small pause. “Sorry ‘bout that just keeping busy and what not. I meant to text but, I was so preoccupied I forgot. ‘M sorry, won’t pull something like that again.”

My heart felt like it was being squeezed, my intention was never to make him feel bad but I could sense that I did. I wondered how stressful it was on him always being so kind to everyone, literally everyone. At all times of the day.  I had a feeling that most of the time he was putting on an act when deep down he was just having real human problems that he had to keep tucked away.

“Don’t apologize,” I rushed. “It’s fine, seriously. What’s up?”

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” He joked. I could hear his soft chuckle from the other line. “Sunday’s.”

“The most relaxing day,” I noted, it was true.

“Relaxing enough where I feel like I should take some time and start a book.”

Oh, fuck. There wasn’t much enthusiasm in his voice anymore. I had a feeling I knew where all of this was heading, and I didn’t like it.

“Any day is a great day to start a book,” I suggested trying to hide my nerves. The universe really was one giant head fuck.

“Actually the favor I was going to ask you,” Harry drawled, a slight tinge of hesitation is his voice. “I really want this specific book.”

Yep, this was his heading right where I thought it would.

“Ooo which one?” I questioned excitedly, like I didn’t know. I was really hoping he’d take me by surprise and say that new Twilight book or something.

“It’s called Truth Be Told. Actually, bet it’s sold out everywhere. Can’t even Amazon fuckin’ Prime it.” He laughed. Maybe he was taking this a lot lighter than I thought...?

“Y’ know what. I don’t need it. Um, do you have any book recs?” Harry rushed.

“If you want that book I’ll go out in town and look for it, but if not I do have some recommendations,” I offered.

“Okay, how ‘bout this? I’ll lend you my car and could you get me that uh, Truth book or whatever and also, get me a book you recommend for me and I have one I recommend for you.”

“You trust me in your car? I just only started to learn to drive on the opposite side of the road,” I admitted with a smile, not like he could see it.

“If ya crash my car, I wouldn’t even try coming back...avoid the wrath of Harry Styles at all costs,” He countered.

“Uh-oh I’m scared,” I fake gasped.

“Hm, should be. I’m not like the papers say, ‘m actually a real diva.”

I was starting to really like this conversation.

“A lot of work, huh?”

“You think you can handle it?”

It’s like I could hear his smirk through the phone. This conversation went really, might I say flirtatious, really fast. I knew it was just his personality and I shouldn’t over think it. But if there is one thing I loved in life, it was a good flirt. And Harry, he was good at it.

I must have been zoned out for a moment because I heard Harry awkwardly clear his throat when I didn’t reply back to his flirtatious line.

“So ‘m gonna pick you up actually. We’ll go back to mine and then you can head off to get those books? Sound good?” He spoke into the line.

“Oh yeah, sure.”

“See ya soon.”

With a click, the call was finished. As much as I wanted to sit back and recollect on what the fuck went down in that call I knew I needed to get out of bed and make myself presentable. He didn’t give me an ETA so I assumed I didn’t have much time on the clock.

I ran to my overflowing duffle, with all the time on my hands I really needed to get around to unpacking it. Was it bad that I wanted to try to look a little more dressed up than just jeans and a tee?

Yep, it was probably bad because I shouldn’t care how I look in front of him.

“Ugh!” I exclaimed, rummaging through all the wrinkled clothing. I settled on black jeans and a black blouse. It looked a bit funeral-esque, I’m hoping it came off as chic. I’d look like a rag doll next to him anyway, the least I could do was try.

He really wanted to go and get his ex girlfriend’s book, huh? I don’t know why he’d want to do that to himself, either way I was going to play dumb as rocks when he gave me the list of the name and author of the book. It’s not entirely an act though, I just read a few headlines. Correction, I just google searched his name and scrolled throw a bunch of headlines about how you have sex and cry — how terrible that would sound if he knew it was true. I will be taking that one to the grave with me.

I swore not even 5 minutes had passed by and the purring of Harry’s engine was already echoing through my house. He was only up the hill after all, but he gave me absolutely zero time to fix myself up. I just had to suck it up and go out there with my frizzy hair and oily skin and tough it out.

But that wasn’t even my biggest concern, my biggest concern was the fact I, a shit driver in the first place, was now being trusted to drive Harry’s extremely fancy Range Rover to a book store of some sorts somewhere. As soon as we traded off the car my plan was to start Google mapping a place and praying that it was close. The quicker I’m in and out of that vehicle, the better.

My phone pinged.

Harry.

“Should’ve gone to the bathroom before I left. Can I come in for a quick wee? X”

I just couldn’t get a break, my bathroom was cluttered with skincare products and dirty clothes piling on the side. I ran to the bathroom swiping up the dirty clothes and tossing them in an empty drawer in the dresser. He’ll just have to excuse all my beauty products, I didn’t want to keep him waiting too long.

“Come in!!!” I texted him back.

The sound of a car door slam was almost instantly followed by a polite knock at my door. Although the cottages were spread far apart I rushed over to the door, not wanting him to stay outside too long, afraid he might get noticed.

I peered through the peephole and was blessed by the handsome looks of Harry. He was tapping his foot against the cobblestone, the hood of his Nike rain jacket pulled over his head completely, while his hair was covered by a black beanie. Even being so covered up he was still so good looking. I opened the door for him, allowing him inside.

“Hi there,” He grinned as I welcomed him in. I’d love to chat but ‘m actually bout to wee my pants. Give me a moment please.”

Harry then fast walked his way over to the bathroom, obviously familiar with the floor plan. He must’ve stayed in one of the smaller cottages before. The smell of his heavenly cologne suffocated the room instantly. I knew I’d still be smelling it lingering in the air even later on tonight.

All the rushing to get ready and let him in, I wasn’t even focused on my stomach which was knotting like crazy. It felt like it could explode from nerves at just any minute. I don’t remember ever feeling this nervous when I had to see him. Granted I’ve only seen him those two times, but I played it off so cool then. I think I was just working myself up over nothing right now.

I heard the sound of running water and momentarily the steps of his shoes making their way back over to me.

“Can we redo the greeting?” He questioned with a big smile.

“Ok..”

“No, ‘m actually just going to pop outside, knock again and everything,” Harry insisted seriously.

“I’ll pretend like you didn’t just rush to the bathroom like a toddler who hasn’t gone to the bathroom all day,” I agreed, going along with his little act.

“Great.”

Harry popped open the front door, shutting it behind him and going back into the hazy morning air, doing a quick spin before making contact with the door once again.

Knock.

I couldn’t help but giggle as I opened up the door for him the second time.

“Morning Colette, how are ya doing on this fine September morning?” Harry asked me extra cheerily, creeping in for a hug. I embraced him back, the scent of his cologne engulfing my senses once again.

“Doing just fine Mr. Styles. Could I offer you some tea?” I asked in a proper tone, putting on my best imitation of a British accent.

Harry rolled his eyes, breaking the act...”That’s the best you got? You’ve only bloody been staying in England for a whole month.”

“Is it that bad?” I asked appalled.

“Terrible.”

“Better luck next time.” I sighed jokingly.

“Don’t even try. I like your voice just how it is naturally, anyway,” He spoke honestly. The second it left his mouth he too looked taken aback at the compliment he had just thrown at me.

“Want to go get those books?” I suggested awkwardly, dismissing his compliment and changing the topic. Back to business.

Harry seemed surprised by how I brushed it off and maybe even a little embarrassed, his finger began fiddling with his bottom lip. I was starting to pick up that was a little thing he did when he was nervous.

“The books. How could I forget,” He replied dully.

“If i’m being honest I don’t even know where a book store is around here,” I huffed.

“I do,” He smirked.

“Well that’s no help considering I’m going by myself,” I rolled my eyes back at him playfully.

Harry was leaning his body weight on the wooden table by the entrance, a huge smirk painted on his face.

“Guess you’re outta luck then.”

“Would it be bad if I asked for you to come with and guide me?” I asked bravely. I was taking myself by surprise with how upfront I was being towards him. It was just so hard not to be when he was just so normal.

His face dropped a little. I couldn’t tell what sort of reaction he was feeling towards my question but he looked upset. I instantly regretted it because I know my request was about to be rejected.

“As much as I’d love to...” Harry began. “I can’t.”

“Stupid of me to ask,” I replied casually brushing it off. I wanted to change the topic.

“No, it’s not. Maybe I’m better off ordering books online, anyways.”

“I mean, I could still, go get it for you. Something to do.”

Harry brushed it off, shoving his hands in his sweat pockets. “Nope, don’t want you to anymore..the ratings weren’t even that good.”

Oh wow, Harry has some pettiness in him. I couldn’t blame him though. I think anybody else would feel the same way. I wanted to just reach out and tell him I knew why he wanted that book, and that it’s not even worth a bother. I really felt for him. I too had a bad ex, as we typically all do. I can’t say it was as bad as Harry’s past relationship, but mine was bad in it’s own unique way.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled before turning his gaze back towards me. “Let’s go get them books.”

I was surprised, “Really?”

“I hate to do this and act like a macho pop star  but ‘m really gonna have to go incognito. Can’t even step out the car with ya unfortunately, but I’ll drive us.”

My heart warmed at his offer, I knew he was probably going against what his strict hiding rules were in order to go through with this. If he was just driving a heavily tinted car though, was there still a way for paparazzi to notice him? I was excited, I think he could tell because he let out a small giggle, shaking his head.

“Let’s hit the road then!” I exclaimed.

“After you,” He grinned, holding the door open in front of me and leading me to his car.

_________________

The ride with Harry was going well. He had a incognito get up of sunglasses, a beanie and his hood up, making sure there was no way someone could detect it was him. His car smelled like fresh leather and mint, there was an abundance of chewing gum packets stashed in the front compartment of his car along with miscellaneous receipts. Lucky for the both of us, the roads were almost completely clear and there was no traffic heading into town.

Harry was just as attractive looking while driving as I thought he would be. To be fair there was something so enticing about having any guy drive all manly and taking control. But especially Harry driving was a beautiful sight to see. The background music of the radio was humming in the background as the two of us chatted along casually.

“How are you going to recommend me a book if you can’t even come in?” I questioned him.

He turned to me, “Who said I’m not coming in?”

“You did!”

“Might just be your lucky day then,” He smirked. “Do you have a good recommendation in mind for me? Shall we surprise one another?”

I nodded my head, “Sounds like a plan.”

“No soppy romantic books, please,” He scoffed.

“But those are my favorites!”

“Don’t care. I’ve probably read all the best of them anyways,” Harry argued back, a huge smirk painted on his face.

Deep down I knew already which book I was going to pick out for him if it was there. I didn’t care if it was a romantic one or not because I had a feeling he hadn’t read it yet and I had an ever greater feeling that he’d fall in love with it.

The two of us went back and forth chatting to each other another until we began to reach a cobblestone path that led to a small selection of shops. The plaza was secluded and had just a few small buildings overgrown with ivy unevenly placed amongst one another. I’d say there was a max of 5 or 6 cars in the whole parking lot. To be fair, we were pretty far out of town I’d say we had been driving for at least 20 minutes.

“You ready?” He questioned. I could tell there was a hint of nerves in his voice. He was awkwardly fiddling with his wallet and pushing his hood down. He was now just left with his oversized black beanies and sunglasses as his ‘disguise.’

“Are you sure you want to do this? You don’t have to,” I insisted earnestly. I didn’t want to push him to be in a situation that could get messy really quick.

“I’ll be fine here,” Harry reasoned, turning his gaze to the entrance of a little shop by the name of ‘Greg’s Books and More.’

“If anything goes bad, it wasn’t my fault!”

I didn’t want to be responsible for anything that might ensue, after all Harry was the one who insisted to walk in the shop with me. I had a good feeling that we’d be set though, there was literally nobody around and we were far from any major city with large amounts of people.

The two of us hopped out simultaneously shutting the car doors together. Walking side by side with him in the bright daylight made me more aware of the height difference between us, one I had barely ever noticed before. His single strides were equivalent to almost double mine and his shoulders were just a slight amount higher than my eye level.

“Good morning!” A sweet old man, short and stout greeted us from behind a counter of the shop. Harry and I both waved back.

“Morning sir, how are ya doing today?” Harry asked kindly, stopping short to stand and talk to the man.

“Just having a cuppa, enjoying the Sunday,” The man replied. “Let me know if you two kids have any questions.”

I shot the man another small smile before turning to Harry. “May the best book picker win?” I joked.

“You’ve got 10 minutes.”

“1...2..” I began counting down, but before I could even reach the number three, Harry was already rushing to the rows of books, an agenda already on his mind. He seemed so confident in what he was going to pick that I soon began to re think what I was going to choose for his book.

I hurriedly rushed to the other side of the bookstore, scanning the shelves with my eyes. The shop was small and I could hear Harry rummaging through shelves on the opppsite side. I had 10 minutes to find the book I had in mind, something I loved that I wanted to pass on to Harry.

The thought of trading off books to someone who a very intimate gesture, an invitation to be apart of another’s brain. I still couldn’t believe I was here right now with Harry Styles, a now friend, spending my Sunday out and about the town. I knew it was my day off but I knew when I arrived back to my cottage I’d want to inform Eve.

As my eyes panned over the endless covers and names of authors and titles a familiar bright blue and green cover popped up. Ah, I knew what this was. Before I had even fully removed it from the shelf, the yellow cursive script was already showing.

Love is a Mix Tape.

Given his career in music I knew right away this would be the perfect book for him. I had read it months ago, but the impact it left on me remained the same. A story not specifically circled around romance, but hints at the struggles of love and loss. It was funny and a joy to read.

I looked over the book making sure there were no imperfections, torn pages or bent covers. Luckily there was none, I angled it to my side hiding it just in case he’d pop out of of nowhere.

Walking up to the cash register there was no sign of him, he was probably still amongst the jungle of books so I took this as my invitation to check out.

“Hi,” I chirped to the old man who sat behind the desk, his glasses almost falling off his face as he read through the book in front of him.

“Hello there love, you all set?” He asked, walking over to the vintage-like cash register.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I put the book down between us already beginning to reach in my purse for my wallet. I really hoped Harry hasn’t read this one yet.

“Can I just give you money to cover both my book and the other customers? Like, pass it on..” I spoke handing the man almost triple the amount of my single book. He looked at me inquisitively and then began to smile.

“I’m sure that young man will appreciate it,” He smiles, a glimmer of knowingness in his eyes.  I knew the gesture was small and i knew money was not a problem for him but I had such an urge to just do it anyways.

I thanked the man as he wrapped up the book and placed it in a brown paper bag, graciously taking it from him. Harry was still amongst the jungle of shelves and I didn’t want to prowl or cause attention so I decided to wait outside the store. The air was fresh and crisp, the sound of chirping birds and whistling trees engulfed my senses. I’m almost sure Harry had reached his 10 minute mark, but I wasn’t going to rush him. I had a feeling it was a rare occurrence for him to be able to aimlessly shop around, crowd free.

“Ya ready?” His voice erupted behind me, the bell of the door pinging in the quiet air. I turned to face him, his paper bag tucked underneath his arm.

“Not really,” I joked, it wasn’t a complete lie though. I wouldn’t mind shopping around with him in little hideaways all day. Harry caught up to me and we began the short walk back to his car in quiet. As my hand began to reach the handle he quickly swooped in front of me, opening it himself. I looked at him with a stupid look on my face, in awe of a gentleman.

“Oh thanks,” I spoke sheepishly.

“My pleasure.”

I hopped in and moments later Harry was back in the drivers seat beside me pressing the car on and pumping up the heat.

“Thanks, by the way.” He gestured to the paper bag.

“Oh, not a problem at all! Random acts of kindness or whatever,” I brushed it off.

“Not used to someone covering the bill,” He admitted. “Not like that type of stuff matters to me.”

“Well don’t even worry about it.”

“I’ll get you back next time,” He noted.

Next time. So there’s going to be a next time? A next time of us going to the book store? A next time of us hanging out? A next time of what?

“Should we swap these books or what?” I questioned, changing the topic once again.

“So eager, huh?” Harry laughed.

“Well we’re just sitting here in a empty parking lot, you have any other suggestions?”

“You’re right,” He quipped. “Here you are then.”

The two of us exchanged the bags. He lifted it to his ear, shaking it as if it was a surprise gift and he was trying to guess what it could be.

“Just get on with it!” I exclaimed.

“Hush, hush.” He began opening it, very carefully, soon revealing the book I had chosen for him.

“Lucky for you, I’ve never read this. Thank you,” He seemed very grateful as he looked over the front cover, going back and forth between the pages quickly. “I’m excited.”

“Thank God,” I huffed. “I was nervous you’d have read it before.”

“Nope, never. You did good,” Harry compliments, his eyes falling back to my unopened bag in my hands. “Now it’s your turn.”

Oh, yeah.

“I hate when people watch me open stuff,” I admitted. My hand was toying with the bag as I looked at him nervously. I didn’t like people watching me because I was afraid that I wouldn’t give off the right reaction to whatever they may have given me. It was too much pressure, and especially Harry watching me so intently it made me nervous.

“Want me to turn away?” He offered earnestly. “I know people like that, my sister.”

“Maybe just like causally look out the car or whatever.”

Immediately he began fiddling with his windshield wipers, intently focusing on them as if they were some sort of puzzle. I wanted to tell him not to use them when it wasn’t raining and it’d damage the car, but I’m sure he knew that. I took that as my queue to quickly unpack-age the book, afraid he might cause damage.

When I opened it up it revealed not one but two books. The one on top made my heart sink, I recognized the title right away. It was his ex girlfriends book. Why would he give this one to me? Should I act like I know what it is and what it’s about? No. Play dumb. Underneath it though, was a book by the name of ‘Betting On The Muse’ by Charles Bakowski. Ah, poetry.

“You done yet slowpoke?” Harry interrupted  my thoughts, the two books sat between my lap.

“You can look,” I complied. “Are they both for me?”

“Yes,” He replied simply. “But, I have some stipulations.”

“This wasn’t a part of the deal.”

“I would like if you read the Bukowski book first. It’s poems, I want you to read them and guess which one is my favorite when you’re finished,” He instructed sweetly. Although there was direction in his tone, it came off so kind. “As for the other one..” He paused and then let out a huff.

“I don’t even want you to touch it,” He continued. “Don’t look it up, reviews, synopsis...anything.”

“Okay,” I agreed. I was confused but I didn’t want to let that on.

“One day, if I give you the ‘ok’ I want you to read it. If you want. You don’t have to listen to me by any means, but yeah,” He finished awkwardly.

“So just hold onto it?” I asked, holding up the Truth Be Told book. His eyes glimpsed down to it before quickly shooting back up to meet my gaze. The cover was what I was assuming to be her, his ex. Her hair was messy, lips full, topless with her arms covering her breasts in shades of black and white.

“Yeah, just hold on to it,” He stated.

“You’ve got my word,” I smiled. I could feel the tension in the car and I didn’t want it anymore. This was supposed to be a lighthearted excursion and I wanted to keep it that way.

“Great, well thank you for the books. I’ll start mine right away,” Harry began as he started the car once again. “You ready to take back off?”

I nodded watching him look over the book I had gotten him one last time. He smiled at it before turning to smile towards me. I smiled back. He then brought his hand to the radio, clicked a few things on his iPhone and then turned the notch up loudly. As he began to pull out of the cobblestone parking lot, the beautiful sound of his voice filled the car. This time it was in song.

[broadwayandnetflix]

Domesticity - Richie Tozier x Reader

Warnings: Language (it’s IT)

Theme: Fluff, Angst

Summary: After getting the call from Mike, you and Richie head down to Derry twenty-seven years later. Only this time the two of you are married and have a kid. 

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: I wrote this fic for @80s90steen​ so I sure hope that this request does you justice! I wrote this with a small imagine in mind and am quite pleased with how this turned out. 

A dopey grin firmly planted on your lips, you swayed around your shared apartment with a glass of over-filled red wine in one hand, and a Bluetooth speaker in the other.

Finally, for the first time in weeks, you had some free time, and how did you choose to spend it?

Getting absolutely wasted on boxed wine, while listening to Rihanna’s latest album, wearing your husband’s oversized t-shirt and sweats.

Being a temporary single parent had started to take its toll on you, with your husband being on his comedy tour for the past couple of months. You had assumed that you could keep it together, maintaining your job, enrolling Mason in daycare, and safely keeping your sanity in check.

Except one thing lead to another, and you found yourself crying at your neighbor, Abigail’s door asking her if she could watch your son for the night. Her eyes had glossed over with concern and sympathy while she gladly accepted, leading your son into her house to indulge in a sleepover with her own kids.

So here you were home alone and drunk off your ass on boxed wine, while reruns of Friends played in the background. It was pure bliss.

That was until you got a phone call, glancing towards the television’s digital clock you assumed that it would be Richie. The two of you often checked up on each other after he finished a show, updating each other on either his venues or how Mason was doing.

Except it wasn’t from Richie to your disappointment, yet from a caller ID in Maine. A frown tugging at your lips, you pressed accept, letting the click of the call to go through.

“Y/N?” a voice asked with a familiarity clinging to it that you couldn’t quite place. “It’s Mike.”

Time seemed to stop all at once, Mike’s voice starting to slur and jumble within your conscious, your wine glass now escaping your grasp and smashing to the floor.

Not even noticing Richie slip into the house, bag dropping to the ground, and rushing to wrap his arms around you.

“Shhh, you’re okay, okay?” he cooed quickly, reaching down to pick up your phone and putting it to his ear.

“Mike, it’s Richie, yeah I know this is her phone. Listen, I’ll explain later, yeah, thanks, see ya.” Richie explains quickly into your phone, eyes never leaving your figure while he massaged circles soothingly on your back.

“I forgot,” you whispered shakingly as everything came crashing back.

Richie looking down at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite decipher only nodded in response to your comment before helping you up.

“What does he want, Rich?” you ask quietly already full well knowing the answer.

“He’s back Y/N, Mike never seemed to leave Derry and with reports popping up and the calendar’s lining up. I think we all forgot, except for Mike,” he informs his voice wavering and shoulders sagging immensely.

It had been so long since the two of you had seen each other, and you had dreamed of the day that he’d come back home. Except you didn’t quite see it panning out to be like this.

“Fuck, Richie, it’s been way too long.” you murmur before wrapping yourself tightly into his arms.

“I know, babe, fuck, I’ve missed you so much.”

His taller figure entangling itself with your smaller frame, as he kisses the top of your head, pulling you closer to him.

“Where’s Mason?” it starts off as a faded question until he pulls himself away from you, looking around your living room.

“At Abigail’s,” you reply, eyeing the front door and then back towards him.

His eyes widen in confusion. “I needed some time off, it’s not easy without you here,” you admit.

His gaze softening, mouth gaping open to reply before you cut him off with a quick kiss, pulling away just as quickly.

“We leave when exactly?” you ask quietly.

“Tomorrow night,” he clears his throat, “I called my parents so they can look after Mason for us.”

You simply nod before pulling him back into your arms, the two of you trying to savor the moment as long as you possibly could.

-

“Oh, how I’ve missed you! Yes, I did, yes I did!” Richie’s voice exclaims, as he playfully lifts your son up into the air. Mason giggling at the endeavor, flashing his father a big tooth-less grin.

Moments like these almost made you forget how shitty this whole situation was, as the three of you endured the eight-hour drive to your hometown.

Of course, driving with a two-year-old had its ups and downs, but for the current moment, Mason was quite the angel. (Knock on wood)

You could tell that Richie had been harboring a sense of guilt from his absence in the family. The regret and insecurities that he so desperately tried to hide from you practically hung around him like a cloak. No matter what you said to change his mind wasn’t going to cut it, his stubborn personality had never left him since childhood.

You gripped the steering wheel and refocused your gaze on the road, blocking out the random 90’s songs in the background and your husband’s whispers and coddles. Ultimately focusing on how this whole phenomenon started up again, how you and Richie managed to tangle up into each other’s lives again.

-

2011, New York City

How you ended up in a comedy bar in Manhattan past eleven was beyond you. You and a couple of your friends had initially planned to spend the night at a new restaurant that had just opened up. Instead, half tipsy, and giddy the four of you had stumbled into a nearby comedy club.

You surprisingly were soberer than most as you were the single one of the bunch. No guy ever seems to meet your expectations or fulfill what you had longed to find for so long. All of your friends wedded and knocked up with litters of little ones that often became a recurring subject during your times together.

Caroline, one of your closest friends, led the lot of you into a row of empty chairs, as you all plopped yourselves down. At the current moment, you were watching a woman who seemed to be finishing her act. Her stand up appeared to be funny, but you had entered too late to really get any gist of her persona.

A quick vibrate of your phone got your attention as you quickly looked down, not noticing the next performer that would take the stand.

“Hi, I’m Richie Tozier-“you looked up, not even paying attention to the words that were spilling out of his mouth.

All you could focus on was him. The boy, (or now man you guess) that you had spent practically your entire adolescence crushing on. The same boy who would make the shittiest jokes and tease you mercilessly. The boy who made your heart twirl and whirl, the boy who would sneak you back into the hidden shed and kiss you until you couldn’t breathe. Or the boy that you left behind for college, the boy who broke your heart with his sweet words and gentle goodbyes.

You forgot, you genuinely forgot him, and you couldn’t breathe, he was right there in front of you. Of course, he became a comedian, of fucking course he did, which prompted you to giggle like a fool.

“What’s so funny?” Georgia smirks as she leans over to get a better look at you.

“Nothing,” you reply back nonchalantly, trying to hide the growing grin upon your expression.

After the show finished and your friends were calling cabs home something inside you made you stay put. It didn’t take long for him to make an appearance; his figure now slumped over a barstool drinking some exotic drink.

You couldn’t stop yourself from trailing over to him, trying to keep a straight face. A god damn fool, that’s what you were, but just like back then, he looked so tempting.

“Is this seat taken?” you ask quietly, he shook his head his gaze not seeming to leave his glass. A sigh escapes your lips, you wave a bartender over asking for a glass of wine.

The glass sliding across the countertop seeming to gather his attention, his eyes now on you. They squint at first, taking you all in. He shakes his head in disbelief, looking back down before looking back up again. You can’t help but grin at his little display of remembrance, he was just as you left him if you excuse the grown part.

“Y/L/N?” he whispers in awe, eyes widening once you nod. “You just saw that? Holy fucking shit, is that really you? You look fucking gorgeous, I don’t even-“He practically shouts instantly, gaining the attention of everyone else left within the joint.

You chuckle softly, smiling ever so brightly towards his antics, looking down briefly to hide your blush.

“Hey, Rich,” you whisper softly before leaning forward to wrap your arms around him. “We’ve got some catching up to do.”

-

Present Day, 2016

“Whatcha thinking about?” Richie asks, breaking you of your thoughts.

You glance over at him quickly to see Mason fast asleep within his car seat, and Richie, map in hand, peering over at you.

“Us.” you murmur with a faraway smile.

“Uh oh,” he teases, raising his eyes brows towards you suggestively.

“Oh, stop!” you giggle before looking back down at your maps app on your phone. Derry getting closer and closer, now only two hours away.

“You know what I just realized?” Richie mentions abruptly, map down on his lap and hands nervously playing with his seatbelt.

You hum in acknowledgment for him to continue.

“That none of the others know that we got married and have a kid,” he quips. “I mean, that’s like news, right?”

You guffaw at the realization and glance in your mirror to see your son still curled up sleeping soundly.

This was going to be interesting.

-

Derry, Maine 2016

After a slight compromise between the two of you, you had decided to bring Mason with you to the restaurant. Only for a short amount of time so you could safely reach the Tozier’s house and get a reasonable hour of sleep.

You stood outside the restaurant with Mason in Richie’s arms, and a bag full of his necessities within yours.

How the hell were you going to introduce a two-year-old to the raunchiest group of people that you know?

“Babe, we’ve been through much worse. I’m pretty sure we can handle the Loser’s Club.” Richie teases before nudging you in the side affectionately, walking forward to the door to let the night fully begin.

-

Despite your insanely early arrival, you guys surprisingly weren’t the first ones there. Mike occupying the reserved table set out for you, instantly standing up to greet you.

You could see the realization hit him slowly at first and then all at once. His gaze flickering between you and Richie and then dead centering on Mason. A small smile growing by the second once he understood.

“Don’t tell me that you two actually stuck it out together?!” Mike exclaims in realization. “I mean holy shit, Tozier really got the girl.” he murmurs with disbelief.

“What you don’t think I’ve got the charm? I certainly captured Y/N’s attention when we’re kids, hell, she was practically drooling over me.” he teases with a playful glint in his eyes, only to have it wiped away after a quick swipe to the side.

“Ow!”

“Nah, he’s just the same old same old, Mike, he’s just surprisingly a good father.” you stare while you place your stuff down before taking Mason from Richie’s arms.

“She says as she proceeds to take the child out of my arms,” he smirks, mouthing something to Mike that you couldn’t decipher.

“Oh yeah, how rude am I? I completely forgot to introduce you guys,” you stammer turn towards Mike. “This is our son Mason, he just turned two a couple weeks ago actually.”

“I figured,” he glimmers with a newfound sense of adoration towards Mason, “He really does look just like you guys, it’s crazy how time flies.”

Mason now scooped up within your arms, eyes big as saucers towards Mike. His whole body softening at the sight of him, bending down to Mason’s level to make funny faces.

Your heart practically melting at the scene, maybe this night wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Oh no, don’t tell me Y/L/N got knocked up!” An all too familiar voice rings out from behind you.

You spoke too soon.

Eddie Kasprack. Rivaling your husband, easily one of the biggest clowns you have ever met. You can’t even fight the grin that is beaming upon your expression, which is practically mirroring his. That is until he completely drops his attention down towards your son.

“Okay, like babies are not my thing, but if this isn’t the cutest little guy in the whole world.” He cooed sweetly, instantly warming your heart.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment, you heard it here first guys,” Richie announces further, causing Eddie’s eyes to widen even more than you thought they could.

“Who invited this asshole-oh shit? I can’t curse in front of the child,” Eddie blurts out, causing both of you and Richie to crack up instantly.

“Wait, am I seeing this correctly?” his gaze flickering back and forth between the three of you. “Are you two like a thing, and is this like your thing?” Eddie asks, deadpanning at the realization. “Mike, oh hey Mike, did you know about this?” his speech going like thirty miles a minute.

“Like three minutes before you did,”

“Damn.” he mouths silently.

“How are you still a train wreck, you had like twenty-seven years to mature?” Richie blurts out, gathering the focus of everyone in the group.

“Okay, if it weren’t for your child like an inch in front of us, it would over for you bucko,” Eddie taunts before focusing on something behind you.

“This is going to be such a long night, and I literally just got here.” Beverly groans as she walks into the room, Ben trailing at her heels.

-

After everyone got situated, including a very late Bill, the rhythm of the dinner began to flow very nicely. Of course, your little family being one of the main topic’s it was still nice getting to catch up.

Getting intel on how everyone’s lives turned out, learning about how Bill became a bestselling author, Beverly’s and Eddie’s side businesses, and how Ben became an architect. Each profession seeming to fit each person’s persona like a puzzle piece, something that seemed just right for each one.

It was remarkable at how calm your child could be at times; Mason was, if anything, one of the most low maintenance toddlers that you had ever met. That didn’t escape the whole ‘terrible two’s’ facade that you most definitely endured, which definitely was not fun. The patience, however, that the other’s gave you and Richie when needed with Mason was so emotionally reassuring.

In fact, Mason practically brought a whole different side to everyone. When your son babbled on with incoherent sentences during dinner, Eddie would be quick to join in and converse with him. When your son needed a diaper change, Beverly quickly swept in without much thought and offered. Or when you feared slightly that your son would get emotional, Ben played little games to distract him across the table.

The whole ordeal made you two ridiculously happy, you’d often find Richie’s hand intertwining with yours under the table at certain times. More often than not, you’d catch him glancing down at you with a loving smile.

You and Richie listening intently to each story that was shared between the lot of you, and how everyone had gotten hitched. You could tell that not everyone was entirely pleased with their spouses, but after a few glasses of wine, more stories had been shared.

“So when exactly did you two tie the knot?” Bill asks curiously from across the table as he bites into a piece of chicken.

Richie taking a drink of his water, pausing to look over at you, practically beaming at the memory.

“Well, this one found me one night in a comedy bar in like 2011 was it?” you nodded, “Yeah, I’d say we hit it off pretty quickly, but we didn’t get married until two years later,” he remarks.

“He definitely proposed in the worst way possible, dumbass put the ring in a cake, and I practically choked on it,” you add in quickly with a smirk.

“I thought it was romantic! I didn’t know you were going to almost swallow it!” Richie argues back just as fast.

“I really guess nothing has changed, Tozier didn’t have charm back then, and he most certainly doesn’t have it now.” Eddie comments, earning a collective chuckle from the group, including you.

“Wow, I guess I’ll see myself out. My own wife against me, Y/N, I expected more from you.” Richie feigns, smiling widely when he causes you to break out in a fit of giggles.

“You guys might be absolute dorks, but you do know how to create absolutely adorable children,” Beverly admits in response to your son as he plays with the Cheerios that you had brought for him.

“Why thank you,” you gleam in response, your gaze never leaving your son. “I do think; however, we should get going soon; it is past this little guy’s bedtime,” you admit.

Richie nods quickly in agreement, “Listen, he may seem cute now, but you guys do not want to deal with him when he’s sleepy.” he murmurs, followed by an exhausted look for added effect.

-

After a collective goodbye from the group that you’d meet up with later tonight at the townhouse, the three of you head out towards Richie’s parent’s house.

Richie now driving as you sit with Mason on the passenger side, not ready to part with him just yet. This whole trip to Derry and the underlying meanings of while you were all here, it pained you to leave your son somewhere you couldn’t see him.

So much so that you had become a little bit of emotional mess on the ride there, hugging your son just a little bit too tightly.

“I love you, babe, but please don’t suffocate our child to death.” Richie teases, causing you yelp loosening your hold on Mason.

“I’m glad though that everyone was so understanding towards Mason,” Richie hums, turning on his turn single before pulling into the development. “I think we made the smart decision in taking him here. They’d be too distracted by our child,” he states quietly.

Nodding in agreement, you wordlessly hand your son’s bag of necessities over to him. His eyes never leaving yours, softening at the sight of seeing you upset.

The two of you saying your goodbye’s to your son for the time being, and thanking Richie’s parents profusely. You and Richie making your way back to the car, Richie sliding into the driver’s side and you into the passenger’s once more.

The silence stretches out between the two of you, the only noise filling the car is the air conditioner and staticky music. You let yourself lay your head on Richie’s shoulder, tears streaming down your cheeks. His arms enveloping around yours, pulling you closer to him, whispering reassuring comments in your ear.

“We’ll get through this love, we always do.” a quick kiss to the forward he stays there until you pull away.

“Okay.” you sniffle as the two of you drive off in sight of a long journey ahead of you.

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

white lace

A/N: Some folks wanted an ending to my Bittersweet series, so here it is! IT HURTS SO GOOD

Read Part 1: Bittersweet Deja Vu

Read Part 2: Diamond

Warnings:Just a lot of angst, fluffyish ending

Word Count: 1287

The days before the wedding are hell, you’re snapping at your fiance out of stress and annoyance and nothing seems to be going right.

It’s 48 hours until your wedding date and you end up crying at your favorite coffee shop after an argument over the phone.

You’re standing leaned up against the brick outside, taking deep breaths while your eyes are closed, when you hear something that makes your heart stop.

“Oh, honey. Why are you crying?”

You’d know that voice anywhere, and you don’t want to open your eyes, don’t want to see that face.

You feel him stepping closer and then his hand on your face, thumb wiping away a tear.

When you open your eyes he’s giving you the softest dimpled smile and your heart cracks right down the middle.

It’s been 10 months since you’ve seen his face and it’s like you’d seen it yesterday, that soft smile when you cracked open an eye after falling asleep in his arms and it still hurts just as much.

“You still come here?” You ask, because you can’t say what you want to say.

You can’t say “everything about you hurts me.”

“Every week. Keep hoping I see you.”

You scoff, turn your face away.

“I’m not in the mood for you to feed me a line, Kyun.”

“Hey. Hey!” He takes your chin in his hand, twists your face so that he can stare right into your eyes. “It’s not a line. I miss you. Come to the car with me, yeah? Let’s talk a bit.”

You’re following him to the parking garage before you know it because your feet have muscle memory, they know you’d follow him to hell if he asked you.

He opens the door for you like the gentleman he never was and you can’t help but smile as you slide in.

When you do he stands there with the door open and puts a hand on his chest.

“You kill me, you know that?”

“I’m getting married,” you say once he gets in, before he even closes the door.

You look for shock on his face but there is none, only this raw hurt that you’ve only seen masked before, and your heart feels like a windshield after a crash, shattered through but not crumbling.

“I know. You invited me.”

You laugh because the idea is ludicrous, that you’ve somehow invited him to your wedding, that he wasn’t just some phantom lover in a recurring fever dream you had for years and years.

You’re looking at him and it strikes you that you’ve never even seen him in the daylight, never seen how the light reflects off his smooth skin.

“Are you coming?”

He shakes his head, once.

“I can’t.” He almost chokes out the words.

“Why not?”

You’re pushing him, that that bittersweet deja vu rushing over you like a wave. This is what you do, you push him and push him until he runs.

“You know why.”

“Aw, come on, Kyunnie. Don’t you want to see your old friend walk down the aisle? You always did like me in white lace.”

This is all familiar. You push him, tease him, and he ducks the question in your voice, makes a joke or kisses you hard so you forget.

He doesn’t do any of those things. His eyes are searching your face, lip caught between his teeth.

“It would kill me,” he says, almost hoarsely.

You’re stuck there, for once you’ve got no smartass comeback and you can hear your heart racing in your ears.

“Don’t,” he says, and his voice cracks. “Don’t marry him.”

You take in a sharp breath and fight back fresh tears. “Why shouldn’t I?”

Maybe you just haven’t pushed hard enough, maybe you just have to go further to get him to bring that mask over his face because right now he was wide open and it was killing you.

He looks away.

“Don’t make me say it, baby.”

“Don’t make you say what?”

You’re pushing and pushing but he just keeps giving and you don’t know what to do next.

He looks up at you, and his eyes are so dark and wet you could drown in them.

“You’re the love of my life.” He says softly, simply, and that’s it.

That’s the moment the cracked windshield that was your heart finally gives.

You’re crying so hard, now, almost sobbing, and you hate it hate it hate it because you feel wide open and vulnerable, like he could tear you apart.

Tears are spilling down his cheeks, too, and every one is like a knife in your gut.

He leans over and touches his forehead to yours.

“I’ve been in love with you since the second you smiled at me. I’ve always been yours, baby, didn’t you know?”

You’re vaulting over the gearshift like it’s nothing, fingers of one hand digging into the hollow of his collarbone, the other in the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and you’re kissing him kissing him kissing him like his mouth is oxygen.

He keeps talking between kisses all praise and soft words.

“God, I missed you so much, honey. Every day. Every minute.”

You can’t stop crying and all you can taste is salt in your mouth so you finally pull away and take a deep breath, put your face in your hands because reality is crashing down on you, all the wedding plans, all the money, your fiance’s sweet smile.

“I’m supposed to be getting married in two days!” You cry out, and he takes your hands to pull them away from your face.

There’s panic in his eyes.

“You can’t. You can’t!” There’s panic in his voice, too, and your breath hitches in your chest.

When you don’t speak, just climb back over the gearshift, his eyes flash with something like anger.

“I’ll show up. I’ll show up drunk and make a scene, embarrass you in front of all your friends and family. I’ll throw you over my shoulder and fucking carry you out of there if I have to, I swear to God.”

You can’t help smiling at the passion in his voice it hurts but it’s so bittersweet. If he were a candy he’d be the darkest, deepest chocolate, the kind that’s bitter on your tongue until you swallow, then sweetness blooms up your throat.

“You won’t.” You remember those words you said later, how you’d believed that deep in your soul but hoped you were wrong.

“Try me.” He spits out, and when you look back from the entrance of the parking garage he’s got his head hung over the steering wheel, shoulders shaking, and you are crying again before you reach the bus stop.

🔔🔔🔔

He shows up in an all black suit, no tie, tequila on his breath, hair mussed. You’re decked out, the music about to start, but when you see him all red rimmed eyes but still smirking, your heart soars.

You follow him to hell, this time, as soon as he asks you, voice low and commanding.

“Come on, honey. I’ve got the getaway car double parked.”

He’s laughing like a madman when he rips the veil off your head and throws it out the car window because he was half sure you’d say no and he’s half drunk on tequila and half drunk on the way you’re grabbing at his collar, unbuttoning his vest.

Once he gets your dress off at the hotel room, he skates his hands over your body again and again until you’re begging.

He smirks at you before he lowers his head to kiss your stomach.

“You’re right. I did always like you in white lace.”

[mst3kproject]

Miami Connection

 From the title you have probably already guessed that this is an 80’s drug movie, and you are mostly right, but Miami Connection is so much more. The director was Woo-Sang ‘Richard’ Park, a South Korean film-maker who wanted to break into the Western market despite not speaking any English.  Those of us who know anything about bad movies are already going oh no, because that’s how Troll 2 happened.  Park’s American buddy who was gonna help him do it was Young-Kun Kim, a taekwondo-instructor-slash-motivational-speaker who decided to write, produce, and star in the movie himself because hey, he’d seen movies and it didn’t look that hard.  Oh no, that’s what Hal Warren thought when he set out to make Manos!  And since these guys couldn’t afford actual actors or stuntmen, they cast a bunch of Kim’s taekwondo students, who thought the movie would be great publicity for their band!  Oh no!

The movie opens with a drug deal in a junkyard being interrupted by biker ninjas, who kill everybody, steal the cocaine, and run. Just a Tuesday night in 80’s Miami, really.  Having thus introduced the villains, we now meet the heroes, a fantastically talentless 80’s rock band called Dragon Sound.  Their newest member is Jane, the new girlfriend of lead guitarist John.  Jane’s overprotective brother Jeff does not approve of John, and he hangs out with the coke-stealing ninja bikers from the opening, so he could easily make good on his threats… what he doesn’t know is that the members of Dragon Sound are all training together in taekwondo, and they’re more than ready to take on him, the entire dojo, and a rival band!

Miami Connection is the Starcrash of martial arts movies.  It is completely, irredeemably terrible and yet it never stops being entertaining. The ‘plot’ is mainly a series of ass-kickings, strung together with dialogue scenes that discuss the consequences of the previous fight and set up the motivations for the next one.  I am in no position to judge anybody’s skill at taekwondo, since I can’t tell Karate from Kung-Fu (of course, neither could the people who made the Karate Kid remake), but very nearly everything else in the film is absolutely awful and funny as hell.  I could list hilarious moments for several pages.

The dialogue is stunningly banal, especially when it’s expository.  Both Jane and keyboardist Jim narrate their own tragic backstories and both are bad but in very different ways: Jane doesn’t sound like she particularly cares about the deaths of her parents or her brother’s gang involvement, while Jim weeps like a baby while he whimpers about his mother telling him to find her lost husband.  Later when Jeff is killed in a brawl, Jane doesn’t sound too cut-up about that, either. She’s certainly not nearly as upset as Ninja Biker Dojo Master Yoshida, who gets a flashback that makes it look like Jeff might have been his boyfriend.  My favourite line in the whole movie is when another member of the band, Jack, complains about Jeff and “his darn gang, selling their stupid cocaine!” like a six-year-old who wants his turn on the X Box.

Because nobody can emote, the ‘acting’ in the movie mainly consists of a lot of yelling, and their favourite thing to yell is “son of a bitch!”  They don’t use it as an exclamation the way Reb Brown did in Space Mutiny, it just seems to be the only insult the writers could think of. It gets funnier every time you hear it.

Costumes seem to consist of whatever everybody wore to set that day, with the exception of the black ninja pajamas (ridiculous-looking as always) and the t-shirts Dragon Sound wear when they perform.  The latter feature the name of the band in ‘Vote for Pedro’ font, and nothing else.  I own one of these.  You can buy them at teepublic.

The plot is an absolute mess.  Why does Yoshida think eliminating Dragon Sound is the key to controlling the drug trade in that area?  They haven’t done any vigilante stuff at that point – they just react when Jeff attacks them.  I get why the rival band, who were fired from the nightclub so Dragon Sound could play instead, would want them out of the picture, but the ninja bikers seem to have no reason to care.  Meanwhile, said rival band just kind of falls out of the movie and is never seen again.

I don’t know who the main character is supposed to be.  The story starts out being about John and Jane’s star-crossed relationship, which could have had a Romeo and Juliet angle with Jeff’s death but doesn’t. Then they slide out of the way as we focus on Jim’s search for his missing father, which keeps us busy a while, but then the final showdown is between Mark and Yoshida, who have so far been secondary characters.  Jane isn’t even present at the ending, although Jim’s father does show up to recite some more utterly terrible dialogue as he reconciles with his son.

Jim, John, Jack, Jane, and Jeff.  Did Kim just think all American names start with J?

I’m not sure how old Y. K. Kim’s character Mark is supposed to be.  He and the other bandmembers are room-mates, and he dresses like them and rides around in their convertible with his feet up on the dashboard.  He talks and acts like them and tells people that his bandmates are ‘like brothers’.  But whereas they’re all in their twenties, Kim was forty-one when this movie was made and there is no attempt to hide that.  Is he just supposed to be hip with the younger generations?  Or did they actually expect us to believe he was fifteen years younger than he looks?

           There are long sequences in which nothing happens. We see the band play a whole song at the club, twice, and then one of those songs is re-used for a montage sequence of characters at the beach.  The latter does not further the plot but it does show us a lot of women’s butts with wet bathing suits clinging to them, as well as the world’s best-dressed nudist. There’s a sequence of taekwondo training that runs several minutes, and which does nothing but set up a single finishing move that will recur at the climax.  There’s a biker company picnic like the one in The Hellcats but without the interesting parts.

Literally everybody in this movie practices some kind of martial art, including the nightclub owner and the drug dealers… but I figure that was just the 80’s.  Also, this movie taught me that men in the 80’s took their sunglasses off as a sign of respect, much like removing the hat in earlier decades.

What the fuck is up with the dancing crop-top dude?  Even the guy who’s about to fight him looks confused by him.  He was so weird I thought he’d be a good stinger, until we arrived at Miami Connection’s ultimate stinger moment – a car turns a corner, revealing a bunch of motorcycles on a collision course with it, and John, in the driver’s seat, says, “ugh, ninjas.”

On a slightly more serious note, the movie does have an ostensible message, which is spelled out between the last shot and the closing credits: only through the elimination of violence can we achieve world peace.  This is kind of a silly statement because, yeah, that’s what peace is, but also because we’ve just spent this entire movie watching people beat the shit out of each other with hands, feet, and whatever they can grab.  The script is aware of this contradiction, though, and stops at several points to remind us that taekwondo and other martial arts are not merely fighting techniques but ways of life that promote discipline of the body and mind and strong bonds between people.  This is the side of taekwondo that Dragon Sound plans to promote during their world peace tour, and the message seems heartfelt enough even if the delivery is lacking.

In that light its interesting to note that this disciplined martial arts lifestyle seems very much at odds with the hedonistic biker one that Yoshida and his followers also participate in.  The two stereotypes conflict on every possible level, right down to ninjas being quiet while motorcycles are loud.  I think this might be an attempt to paint the baddies as hypocrites, but I honestly don’t know.  It’s equally possible that ‘biker ninjas’ were just the coolest-sounding thing Kim could think of.

After that list of suckage, I do have to say that there are two or three things Miami Connection does astonishingly well.  Both the night shots and the gore effects are pretty good – especially the night shots.  You can always see enough to tell what’s going on, but it’s not so bright that you don’t believe it’s night-time.  I’ve seen way worse in movies with way higher budgets.  The fight choreography is also shockingly effective sometimes. It never turns taekwondo or any of its other martial arts into some kind of artsy dance performance.  The fight scenes are brutal, and you believe that the people in them are fighting for their lives.  Maybe not the best thing for their message that taekwondo is the key to world peace, but pretty effective if you’re just here to enjoy the chop-socky.

Being so terrible and yet so much fun, it’s no surprise that Miami Connection showed up on Rifftrax Live in 2015. Y. K. Kim was a pretty good sport about it, too – apparently he’s happy his film has finally found an audience, even an ironic one.  That puts him much higher on the dignity ladder than Joe Don Baker or Sandy Frank, and even if he seems like a bit of a huckster I have to hand it to him for that.

[wahbegan]

Oh Wait Now I Can Do a Proper Candyman Trailer Breakdown

I can analyze everything in the first trailer much better now, I think with the supplementary material provided by the puppet show and the other TV spot oh right i guess i should put this under a cut like I do cause i just know it’s gonna get long as balls all right

Opens with yeah recap of Candyman legend nothing really to see here

Not much in the bathroom scene either apart from it first introduces this Candyman’s shtick of only being visible in mirrors and shadows which is really neat...oh yeah also no the one Asian girl def chickens out after the 4th Candyman repetition so he literally only kills the white girls which i find personally hilarious. Speaking of hilarious....the girl with the buzz cut? Her character’s name is Boof. Ah, to be young again...anyway

There’s a lot of like...ochre and seafoam in this trailer, have you noticed? Like the bathroom, Candyman’s pants and coat idk i doubt it’s thematic it’s probably just an aesthetic choice but it’s interesting colors for a horror movie

“I feel really connected to this neighborhood” yeah as i mean everyone knows by now but Anthony was kidnapped by Candyman as a baby so it’s hard to tell how much of his fascination with the dark history of prettied-up Cabrini Green is just pretentious artsiness and how much is Candyman’s influence

Okay so the local ominous old kook here says something I find very fascinating when he tells him where he lives. Anthony said I just moved in around the corner, and OOK says “The old candy factory...” not next to the old candy factory or anything, just “the old candy factory”

Now we know from the puppet trailer that there’s a new character they’re introducing who is a black worker at a candy factory with a hook, but y’know like a real person hook that actual amputees get, maybe cause of a factory accident, i do not know, who was good natured and gave free candy to kids on his way home because y’know he works at a candy factory and some white cops saw, assumed he was a paedophile, chased him down to the bottom of the stairwell of presumably the building he lived in, and beat him to death

This character actually seems p important, in the new TV spot there’s a shot of a guy in a trenchcoat and seafoam pants in front of a building i THINK MIGHT be him, and a shot of some cops descending a stairwell, so I think we’re actually gonna see what happened to him, and I think he is going to be introduced as y’know a competing story to Daniel Robitaille’s, he’s MY BEST GUESS going to serve the function in the plot of revealing to the audience the idea presented in the puppet show trailer, that Candyman is more of an abstract entity or a floating moniker, it’s not necessarily bound by the identity of Daniel Robitaille

Anyway, i’m pretty sure by OOK’s comment here that the condos Anthony and Brianna live in are literally built on top of where the candy factory where that guy worked used to stand

Oh yeah just neat little shot of the graffiti of Candyman more as Clive Barker designed him fun reference

Bee stinging Anthony, more on that later, also notice he’s not just a painter, he’s a photographer as well because that becomes important

Oh yeah “he’s the monster that’s part of this neighborhood” is in all probability part of the same speech from the TV spot “Candyman ain’t a HE, he’s the whole damn hive. He’s the way we deal with the fact that these things happened. That they’re still happening.” Candyman I’m prob gonna make a whole post about this but his transformation from urban legend used to cope with random violence and urban decay in Clive Barker’s story to urban legend used to cope with racial violence seems complete in this movie, and I believe thematically the idea is the gentrified Cabrini and Anthony are under the delusion that this is a monster, a story of the past, and Candyman appears to...disabuse them of that notion. With a big fuck-off hook

We know from the TV spot the all-black portrait he’s working on in his apartment is Daniel Robitaille, and a damn good likeness of Tony Todd can I just say who the hell did these paintings they’re amazing anyway the one we see at the gallery of the man with the swollen face is I think the candy factory worker who was beaten to death. That guy i think is also the one who introduces the concept of the seafoam pants and ochre coat btw to Candyman’s wardrobe. Cause of that, he might be how Candyman appears when he kills the High School girls i do not know but that’s interesting, ain’t it? Candyman appearing in different ways to different people depending on the story they’ve heard

Oh the mirror opening to the space behind it must be a reference to the hole through Candyman’s mouth graffiti in the og i just got that that’s pretty sweet cool exhibition

When bearded guy in that god-awful Overlook Hotel carpet-looking button up shirt is saying Candyman, that movie that’s being projected in the background...I’m not sure which, but based on what little more we saw of it in the TV spot, pretty sure that’s footage of the lead-up to/possibly the actual act of the arrest or murder of one of Anthony’s Candyman subjects which is ahh....dark. I mean hell, he’s black, if anyone can do it he can but that feels a little tasteless Tony buddy

Anne-Marie is still obvs shaken up about Candyman, based on their two brief interactions in this trailer I’m assuming...well, cause he was a baby when it happened, he wouldn’t remember, i’m assuming she never told him about what happened to him and this is the first he’s hearing of it.

Candyman agrees with me that the movie was tasteless

Related to that Candyman becoming a monster of racial violence rather than urban blight thing, unlike the original movie, almost ALL of his victims in this are white, which is i mean yeah more on brand considering his origin story(ies)

Candyman appearing in the mirror and Anthony’s hand rotting from the bee sting yeah may as well talk about it here, it becomes obvious at several points through the trailer that the Candyman entity if you want to call it that is taking hold of Anthony

For a split second when he throws the glass, I think you can see his James Byrd, Jr. portrait in the background (with the exposed skull)

Yeah, I’m not exactly sure what’s happening to him as he paints but it SEEMS like he’s somehow experiencing the pain of his subjects

When he’s in his painting clothes covered in black paint seems to be mid-late in the movie when he’s kinda losing his shit yeah we see later the hook come out of a sleeve in the coat he’s wearing when he gets his hand sawed off (more on that in a sec) and the paint-splattered jeans so i’m pretty sure the painting clothes with the old fur-lined coat over it is gonna be HIS Candyman Transformation Chic

“He had a purpose for you, to be another one of his terrible stories.” This is completely shooting in the dark and it came to me late at night as I was falling asleep so I have no idea how stupid or crazy it may or may not sound, BUT if we accept Candyman as a recurring entity and his “terrible stories” as victims of racially motivated hate crimes, okay, hear me out. Remember how in the OG Candyman just kept framing Helen for everything? I wonder if Anthony’s story via Candyman was supposed to be “white woman harrassing Cabrini Green residents chops up woman’s dog, steals her baby, and puts him in a bonfire to be burned alive.” Like Anthony was supposed to be a what’s the word they use in the puppet trailer’s blurb “unwilling martyr”, a black baby boy burned alive by a white woman to keep the faith of his congregation going

I feel like that might be the old candy factory worker sawing Anthony’s hand off, anyway yeah he’s in a very Candyman coat, his hand infected presumably via bee sting is being sawed off, what I really love is that you can see that not only is his right hand getting amputated, he’s been blinded in his right eye. Now remember in Candyman’s original story, Daniel Robitaille had his hand sawed off not just so he could replace it with a sick-ass hook, but because that was his painting hand, that was the source of his talent and pride and wealth. Anthony, like I said, is a painter and a photographer. So Candyman takes his hand and his eye i just love that lil detail

I think that woman in the burned church with SWEETS TO THE SWEET on the wall might be Helen, who we know is in the movie and probably has a conversation with Brianna for plot purposes cause there’s a reaction shot of Brianna in the same church saying “this isn’t real”

Yeah that is absolutely definitely 100% Anthony killing that guy in the alley so yeah i guess there’s no question Candyman gets his ass but i feel like there’s more to it because well y’know they’re very open about it in the trailer number one in a way they’re usually not about the struggle the movie revolves around and as evidenced by him killing people the movie still clearly keeps going after he becomes Candyman so ???? i wonder what’s going on

There’s a brief shot of a little girl watching what looks like her dad jump out the window, I assume that’s Brianna seeing as how y’know a kid is credited as young Brianna and i think there was a character blurb mentioning her having a troubled past, so i feel like her dad’s suicide is obliquely related to Candyman in some way. It is worth noting he seems to jump out of some kind of painting studio

This little kid finding a corpse covered in blood and bees in the bathroom is, first of all, that’s only black person we see killed by Candyman, but also it just seems so disconnected from the rest of the plot and i can’t figure it out at all that I feel like this scene must be either a cold open or a stinger at the very end