#the man must be nearing his 70s and i would still watch him play the doctor for a season

[witchofthemidlands]

everytime i watch anything that has paul mcgann in it i always sit there afterwards thinking what a fucking tragedy it was that he never got seasons as the doctor.

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Timestuck AU: The Power of Mabel ch.2

While fighting over a time machine so one twin can win a pig or the other can win the heart of a girl, Mabel is left stranded in a snowy forest with no time machine and no brother. Oops.

The BEAUTIFUL art pieces were done by @clownwry and @elishevart ! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! 😭❤️💋

ch.1 - ch.3

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford was way more nervous than he was letting on.

She had long, pretty brown hair, braces over her teeth, sneakers, a skirt, and a sweater that allowed the cold air to pass through it. Her cheeks were slightly chubby with youth and nosy, as well as her nose, due to the freezing weather. Her eyes matched her hair perfectly, and though they were clouded with fear and confusion, Ford swore he could see sparkling behind the clouds, sparkling that made itself well-known when she asked if she could make him a sweater or when she saw his hands.

She had long, pretty brown hair, braces over her teeth, sneakers, a skirt, and a sweater that allowed the cold air to pass through it. Her cheeks were slightly chubby with youth and nosy, as well as her nose, due to the freezing weather. Her eyes matched her hair perfectly, and though they were clouded with fear and confusion, Ford swore he could see sparkling behind the clouds, sparkling that made itself well-known when she asked if she could make him a sweater or when she saw his hands.

Ford would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy Mabel’s company, but she was practically a stranger, and keeping a random girl in his house that was located in the middle of the woods was fishy and Ford couldn’t help but feel like it was illegal. But he couldn’t leave her out in the snow and send her on her way to find her home and family, so he decided to keep her warm or healthy, simply because it was the right thing to do.

But then she said she had no parents to call. Only a brother, who was lost, too. Ford can remember the old rule: If you’re lost, stay where you are until you are found. So he then decided that she could stay here until her brother found her, which should be by morning at the latest.

Still, he felt uneasy, so once Mabel was settled in front of the TV, Ford excused himself and went into the kitchen to make a phone call. There was only one man who would have better judgement in this situation than him.

The phone rang a few times. Ford checked his watch to make sure it was a reasonable time to call. It wasn’t Sunday, was it? But then the ringing stopped. “Howdy! This here Fiddleford McGucket.”

“Hey there, buddy.” Ford smiled to himself at hearing that cheerful voice. “How have you been?”

“Stanford Pines! Good t’hear from ya!” Fiddleford cheered. “M’just fine, just fine! How are ya?! Ya haven’t gotten eaten by monsters yet, have ya?” He laughed, making his old friend chuckle along.

“No no, I’m alright.” Ford almost brought up the reason he called, but then he remembered something very important to Fiddleford. “How are Emma-May and Tater?”

“OH! They’re doin’ great! We’re all very happy n’ doin’ well! Ya won’t believe how big Tate’s gotten since ya last saw him! He’s already crawlin’!”

“Wow, that's great to hear.” Ford sat in a chair at the kitchen table. “Has he said his first words yet?”

“No, not quite. Actually, he’s extremely quiet. Not a lot of baby-babble.” Fiddleford chuckled. “The doctor says that’s perfectly normal. Tate’s so smart, he’s reachin’ for specific colors n’ such, n’ ya can tell he’s thinkin’ a lot n’ knows what’s goin’ on, he just got nothin’ t’say.”

“I was very shy when I was young.” Ford commented casually. He didn't feel like mentioning why. “If Tate is anything like either of his parents he’s very intelligent.”

“Oh, he’s so much like both of us it’s scary. Ya know Emma-May, so clever n’ quiet n’ such. Tate’s got all that. But he already looks so much like me! But he’s got his mama’s hair! N’ Santy Claus brought ‘im this fun little fishin’ game where ya fish for plastic fish with a pole with a magnet on it, n’ he loves it! I can’t wait to take ‘im fishin’ when he’s big enough! Ya really outta give yourself a break n’ come down for a visit, he’d move to see his Uncle Ford again.”

Ford’s face felt hot. “Perhaps. Spring is when a lot of anomalies are active and breeding, so i would prefer not to miss that, but maybe I could visit for a weekend before that…”

“Well, no pressure, I won’t assume anythang until ya tell me to, just know there’s always a bed for ya here.”

“Thank you, Fiddleford. The same for you and your family. The clean air will do everyone some good.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Fiddleford sighed happily and perked up. “So! Whatcha callin’ for? Not that I’m not happy just t’chat, but ya never call.”

Ford laughed and shrugged to himself. “I suppose I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“No need t’be sorry, Stanford, just wanna know what’s up.”

“Well, I was hoping to get your advice on something.”

“Shoot.”

“Um… well…” Ford rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to tell him this. “I heard some unusual sounds outside today…”

“What kind of unusual sounds?”

“Cracks, like lightning. And some faint yelling.” Ford answered. “I thought it might be a tree branch or a new anomaly to catalogue, but when I opened the door a young girl was standing there in the snow with no coat.”

“Heavens! Is she alright?!”

“She’s okay, no frostbite. She was cold, but after sitting by the fire, drinking some hot chocolate, and changing into some dry clothes, she’s okay now.”

“Well, good.”

“So of course I brought her in. I tried to call her parents, she probably got lost playing…”

“Sure.”

“... but she says she doesn’t have any parents.”

“Oh.” Fiddleford sighed. “Oh. Now, wait, are ya sure she didn’t just say that so ya wouldn’t call?”

Ford chuckled and said, “I first thought that too, but she looked too sad to be lying.”

“Okay, I see. Does she got somebody ya can call?”

“She says she has a brother, but he was out there, too. So he is probably out there looking for her and therefore nowhere near a phone.”

“Fair enough, okay. So, I reckon y’all are waitin’ for him t’come ‘round.”

“Yup.”

“Well sounds to me like you’ve handled this all pretty well.” Fiddleford said confidently.

“You think so?” Ford asked. “I can’t help but feel like I’m doing something wrong. Like I’m missing something. Am I doing something wrong?”

“Nonsense, buddy, you’re doin’ great.” Fiddleford assured. “Look here, ya can’t just leave a young gurl out in the snow t’try t’find her way home...”

“I agree.”

“... so ya really got one option n’ that’s t’keep an eye on her n’ let her in as a guest. N’ ya tried t’call, but nothin’. The best thang ya can do right now is be there for this lil’lady n’ just be kind t’her. N’ if nobody comes for her by mornin’, why don’t ya go into town n’ see if anybody knows her, then they can help y’all out.”

Ford nodded, then remembered that his best friend couldn’t see it, so he said, “Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. Thank you, Fiddleford.”

“You’re welcome. N’ hey, are ya okay?” He asked seriously.

“Yes, yes I’m okay. I just want to make sure I do this right.”

“O’course. I understand. Ya want me t’come down there n’ give a hand?”

“No, that’s not necessary. I’m sure Mabel will find her brother in the morning.”

“Mabel, huh? Well, if y’all don’t, please call me. N’ even if ya do find her brother, call me. Keep me updated.”

“I will. Thank you, Fiddleford.”

“Anytime, Stanford.”

~~~~~~~~~~

When Mr. Ford gave Mabel the remote for the old TV and went into the kitchen, she decided to use her awesome detective skills to figure out what year it was. If it was before Grunkle Stan lived here and opened the Mystery Shack, she must be pretty far back in time. But she had no way of knowing if it was 1999 or 2005 or the 50s.

The TV was old, but so was Grunkle Stan’s in her time. So Mr. Ford could have had this TV for a long time and didn’t want to replace it. 

Okay, so when was the TV made? Mabel didn’t know. Dipper would have known.

Okay, Grunkle Stan mentioned watching TV when he was a kid once or twice. So at least Mabel was when Stan was a kid, okay. 

Mabel turned the TV on and it was in color. Okay, so she wasn’t too far back in time. But the TV was playing a commercial for clear skin. The picture was gritty and all the people in it had puffy hair and long socks and oh my god was that woman wearing legwarmers?! Mabel grinned at seeing her favorite fashion on TV, but then her face dropped. When was she?

She tapped her chin and tried to think of how to know the date without being suspicious. She could ask Mr. Ford, but that might be suspicious. Mabel decided to start flicking through channels to try to guess what year she was in based on what was airing. A lot of shows were about cowboys, space, or game shows. Huh. Okay.

All the TV shows were definitely older. Nothing her dad would watch from when he was a kid, so if Mabel had to guess by everyone’s crazy air, the cheesy TV shows, and the music occasionally playing, she was in the 70s.

Huh. Okay. But she needed an exact year. So Mabel turned off the TV, saw an old radio on a desk, and turned it on to listen.

“... cuz it’s cold doesn’t mean you can't boogie, folks! So grab someone you wanna get warm with, turn up the music, and get your bodies warm in the coolest way possible! Here’s Night Fever, by the Bee Gees!”

Mabel grinned at the disco music. Her personal favorite song from these guys was More Than a Woman, but Night Fever would do. For a moment Mabel forgot her mission, jumped off the couch and left the blanket behind, and in the over-sized gray t-shirt Mr. Ford gave her while her clothes were drying, she danced along to the music, singing the chorus since those were the only words she knew.

“When you reach out for me. Yeah, and the feelin' is right,

Then I get night fever, night fever. We know how to do it! Gimme that night fever, night fever. We know how to show it!”

Mabel laughed at herself as she spun around in her socks and tried to do the point-and-hype dance she didn’t know the name to, but everyone did it when a disco song played.

Little did she know that Ford had returned to check on her, and was smiling at her as she shook her hips and waved her hair around and had fun. He leaned against the doorway and planned to let her dance in peace, but when she did a spin and saw him, she grinned and took his hand. “C’mon, Mr. Ford, come dance with me!”

Ford chuckled and shook his head. “No, no! I can’t dance!”

“You got two legs that aren’t broken?”

“Yes.”

“Then you can dance! C’mon!” Mabel encouraged, let him go when they were both in the middle of the room, and she started to dance again. “Don’t make me dance alone!” She even pulled an evil move and gave him puppy eyes. Rude.

Ford smiled slyly at her and hesitantly copied her boogie moves. It was true that Ford never liked to dance, but there was no one around but Mabel, and though he had only known her for an hour or more, he was sure she would never make fun of him.

And he was right.

“Wow! Look at you, Mr. I-Can’t-Dance! Yeah!” Mabel hopped on the couch, standing, and took Ford’s hand. “Here, I’ll spin you!”

Ford laughed and allowed it, doing a single spin, but then scooping her in his arms to dip her and then let her down, making her laugh as they continued to dance. 

“Alright alright, you crazy cats, that was Night Fever by the Bee Gees! It's a snowy day here in the heart of Oregon, with snow flurries coming in harder all night, but it should clear up by morning and be a fun day to go out and play! The date is January 26th, 1978 in case you gotta write a check or mail a thank you note to a friend or family member. I’m still writing letters for Christmas! We’ll be right back with some of your favorites after a word or two from our sponsors, so don’t go anywhere!”

Mabel stared at the radio. “Wow, 1978.” She breathed. Her parents were only kids right now, maybe only six or seven-years-old. Wow.

Ford chuckled. “I know, I’m still in the bad habit of writing ‘77.”

Mabel realized her mistake, but was grateful her host misunderstood her. “Me too.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for dinner. How about some ramen noodles?”

“Yes, please! Can we play a game after we eat?”

“Sure. I don’t have many board games, but I do have a deck of cards.”

“Do you know any card tricks?!”

“A few.” Ford admitted, wiggling his fingers. “There are some advantages to having more fingers than average.”

Mabel grinned up at him and followed him to the kitchen for dinner.

[sekceesimps]

Dying Light (a yandere Zhongli x reader oneshot)

summary: Zhongli comes to claim his darling after she fails to fulfill her end of the contract 

a/n I wish I could say this was requested but I love this man too much. Writing this one had me feeling some kind of way… Hope you all enjoy and leave some requests (pls do yandere Genshin 🤧 smh)! 

Sincerely Coffee

His dark hair shines vividly in the solemn moonlight. Amber eyes radiant, like the purest of diamonds, and fixated right on you. You stand before him and try to subtly shrink away under his piercing gaze. The candles in the room flicker from some gusts of wind coming in. Zhongli seems stiff and at attention, but at the same time far away, lost in thought. Your light and unconscious movement backwards out of fear, unnoticed by you, immediately snapped the archon’s thoughts back to you. 

A ghost of a smile begins to dance its way onto his handsome face, a stark difference to the dangerous threats he had whispered into your ear just moments ago. The light gave him an eerie appearance. 

“Darling Y/N, I’m afraid that you didn’t uphold your end of the bargain,” he frowned and cocked his head mockingly. You step backwards some more until your back hits the wall of the funeral parlor. He has a predatory gaze now as he steps forward and pins a hand on the surface next to your head. He leans forward to further take in your panic. It brought him distress to see that you weren’t comfortable around him. 

“I’m sure you were a good girl and read the fine print. Surely you must be aware that at the end of our contract, if it was that you couldn’t fulfill your end of the deal, then you must join the greatest contract of all time with me?” he continues and runs another hand hand teasingly down your jaw. 

“Perhaps you could entertain me and tell me what that greatest contract is?” you ask hesitantly. Beginning to feel the gravity of the situation as you notice the way the archon caresses you and looks at you with eyes filled with a dangerous sort of adoration. 

“Oh Y/N, you’ve been bad, I thought you understood everything when you signed. I mean marriage of course,” he answered gleefully, eyes sparkling with affection and excitement at your shocked expression. 

Yes, just when did this feeling for you begin, he had pondered to himself. There was no mistaking that these emotions he felt for you were love. He was sure that you also loved him, so why did you look so afraid? He would show you again how perfect the two of you are. 

- - - 

Zhongli is not one to break his word. He is the archon of contracts after all. When you had approached him, as Rex Lapis, a few months ago he had decided to learn much more about you.  

You were an interesting mortal and had almost immediately caught the God’s attention. The geo archon had taken to shying away from the affairs of humans over the last hundred years or two. However he tended to make exceptions for interesting people with even more interesting requests. 

“I’d like to ask for some help,” your melodic voice said, breaking the silence in Rex Lapis’s abode. “If that means signing into a contract with you, then I accept,”

He appeared near you in an instant, “Even if that means not getting the best deal?” he asks, startling you slightly. 

“Yes,” you breathe out lightly. 

“Hmm, you’ve caught my interest,” he responds, putting a hand to his chin, as if he was thinking long and hard about a potential deal with you, “do go on with what you need my help for” he finishes. Of course, he already knew what you needed. He had been watching you for quite a while, but he loved hearing your voice and being near you for once. 

“I need to find someone and I can’t do it by myself. Could you please lend me your strength and assistance as I look for this person” you practically begged him. Oh how he wanted to hear your begging in a different context. It was taking everything within him to not tug you by your hair and bring you to his side forever by force. He knew that you probably wouldn’t appreciate that and he still had to do his job and draft a contract. That is when the idea had struck him to skillfully find a way to keep you with him forever. 

“Very well, let us start writing up a contract then,” he pronounces with a tone of disinterest, secretly preening with joy on the inside. You perk up and smile largely at him, it brought him satisfaction knowing that he made you feel like that. 

“Alright that should be everything,” he finishes and removes his quill from the scroll. “I will come to you whenever you need help, all you must do is call out my name. As for my benefit, all you need to do is find this person you hold dear and that will be enough for me. You have the next 70 days to complete this, of course there will be a punishment if you can’t fulfill your end. However I have the most faith in your skills.” you nod at him in confirmation as you take the pen from him and leave a scrawling signature on the paper. A glowing binding tying you to the archon, prompting you to blush at how close the two of you were now. “Don’t disappoint me, Y/N'' he whispered and let you leave his abode with a smile. The first step in his plan to make you his was finished. Time to wait for your inevitable failure. 

Now he wasn’t going to actively make you fail, he still was true to his job and bound himself to you so that you could call him for help. He would still assist you as well. However, he agreed to what you wanted because he knew the task itself was impossible. This brother you were looking for was long gone for sure, he made sure of that before he signed on to your contract. He couldn’t wait for when the two of you would finally be spending the next few weeks together. 

 Zhongli was smart about the way he conducted himself around you. He was careful not to give you any hints of his true intentions. Sometimes though there would be foolish people who pushed him. Whenever he saw you talking with, brushing arms with, or giving attention to others, the archon would be fuming. Of course, he would let it simmer, playing for the long game instead. It never failed to make him angry and anxious that these insignificant mortals thought they had a change with his future wife, it caused him to let out a tsch in annoyance. 

The two of you had wonderful moments in your quest. Your ability to work well together in battle allowed for quick defeats of random hilichurls on the journey. Truly your skills were something he admired and loved about you. 

The first night you left a parting goodnight kiss on his cheek was what made him truly believe in life again. Your warm lips against his skin ignited a flame within him that he didn’t know he yearned to have lit.  It began to become a sort of tradition between you two for the next months. 

 His favorite moment with you by far was when the two of you had been drinking and you allowed him to come into your bed. Now, not in THAT way. You didn’t like how he had been sleeping on the ground whenever you spent the night in a tavern so you told him to just sleep in the bed with you. It had been an awkward fit at first due to his taller frame. His long limbs were cramped painfully so you let him wrap his arms carefully around your body. Both of you take in and are intoxicated by the other’s warmth. He could get used to the way you faced him and nuzzled your face into his neck. He had fallen asleep and had the most wonderful rest for the first time in a while. 

After the two of you woke up and cuddled in the morning, “Should the day ever come where we are not together, you will continue to shine like gold in my memories” he had smiled and gently taken your hand into his own as he brushed his lips softly against your knuckles. His words and soft actions prompting a light blush across your face. 

He didn’t know how much longer he could wait for you. Every moment he was with you, but not truly in the way he desired wound him up more and more. He knew he would snap very soon. 

- - - 

You tremble against the cold breeze and his warm touch as he leans closer to you and captures your warm lips with his own in a passionate kiss. His hands traveling down further onto your flushed skin. 

Now that you were his in an unbreakable bond, he finally felt at ease. With you, Zhongli felt at home for the first time in thousands of years. He would protect you from any and all threats. If it meant keeping you safe with him, then he would tear apart all of Teyvat. After all, you belonged to this archon now. 

As the sun begins to rise, you notice the dying light within the parlor, fading candles leaving behind a darker atmosphere. A perfect metaphor you think, if he kept touching you like this then you knew that your own resolve would also die out, completely accepting the ownership that he had over you. 

Zhongli notices your wandering gaze before he takes your face between his slender fingers and forces you to look up at him. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten how much you mean to me. Let me remind you,” he announces as he lifts you up and brings you towards his room. Indeed, he would be spending the next few hours reminding you of his love, before you embark on the next chapter of your lives together, courtesy of his subclause turning you into an adeptus in addition to being his wife forever more. He had all the time in the world to get you to comply and love him as dearly as he loves you.

a/n why am I so in love with this man 🧎‍♀️

[gubler-me-up]

Give Me Hallmark

Request: hii can you like do a spencer reid one shot with a fem bau reader and it's christmas, everyone's still working and at the end of the day the reader asks if anyone wants to grab dinner for christmas but almost everyone has plans except for reid so they go out and eat then they walk around with all christmas lights and there's couples everywhere and spencer just confesses his love for her under a mistletoe.

A/N: Thank you for the request, @euphoricdumpsterfire​! We love a cute Christmas fic and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to post this exactly on Christmas but December 26th works too imo! Hope everyone who celebrated had a Merry Christmas and for those who don’t celebrate I hope you had a fantastic, relaxation day ❤️ Hope you enjoy!

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!reader

Category: Fluff

Content warning: A small mention of alcohol but nothing else 

Word count: 3.5k

————-

Nothing was worse than working during Christmas. For most people that is but you didn’t mind. Your family had decided to go on a cruise for the holiday. They asked you to join but the day you were going to tell them your decision the team had a case in Wyoming. You insisted they go without you and you would visit them as soon they came back.

Christmas’s charm had faded away in your eyes as soon as you reached adulthood. Spending it alone had nearly become a habit of yours. Last year you spent it with a couple of friends and did a cute secret Santa exchange. The Christmas’ before that consisted of just you, a bottle of wine and reruns of your favourite hallmark movies.

As you worked diligently at your desk you couldn’t help notice walk down the steps towards where the four of you were working. You looked up and saw a sight that proved to you Christmas miracles were real. Hotch was smiling and whenever he smiled you knew there was extremely good news to proceed.

“Merry Christmas everyone. You’re off the clock,” he said.

“Off the clock? Hotch, we’ve only been working for five hours,” Spencer said.

“Reid, are you serious right now? A late start and an early finish? Sounds like a deal I’m going to take,” Morgan said as he started to pack up his stuff.

“Have a good rest of your day everyone,” Hotch said before retreating to his office.

You started packing up your stuff as well. You could already hear the opening scene of A Royal Christmas playing in your head. Before you could make your way home, cuddle up on your couch and lose your heart to movies you’ve watched for the past five years, you had to eat.

You looked around at everyone packing up their things to leave as soon as they possibly could. You wanted to eat at your fave Chinese spot instead of ordering takeout this year. You didn’t mind sitting in and dining on your own but you could already anticipate the looks of people dining in and seeing you eating alone. The last time that happened a man in his 70s insisted on joining you to eat and told you how much you reminded him of his wife who had passed away five years earlier.

“Does anyone wanna grab something to eat?” You asked.

“I would love to, Y/N, but I have a ticket to the Bahamas that’s calling my name. I’ll send plenty of pictures,” Emily said as she picked up her purse.

“Make sure you keep them PG-rated,” Morgan joked.

Emily playfully rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t give you a PG-13 picture even if you paid me.”

“Ouch,” he said.

Emily laughed as she told everyone goodbye. As soon as she walked out of the bullpen you knew there was no chance of getting her back. You turned your attention over to Morgan. He saw your gaze and immediately stood up to get out of your sight. You didn’t let him get too far though.

“How about you, Derek? You want to grab some Chinese?” You asked.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. If it was a regular, shmegular day I wouldn’t even think twice about it but since it’s Christmas I have plans I must attend,” he said.

“Oh? And those plans would be?” You inquired.

He shook his head and wiggled his finger at you. “We’re keeping it PG-rated remember? Have a Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

Before you could stop him for another question, he wished everyone a Merry Christmas and bolted out the bullpen. Now there was only you, JJ and Spencer. You saw JJ get up to leave next. She saw you looking at her and gave you a sympathetic smile but you knew her answer already.

“Kids?” You asked.

She nodded. “And husband. Sorry, we’ll go another time for sure.”

You smiled. “Of course. Merry Christmas, J.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

With that she was out of the bullpen. You sighed as you looked over at Spencer. He stood up from his desk and swung his satchel on his shoulder. You were nervous to even ask anyone else let alone  him if he was free to go out to eat with you. You knew he would probably be busy with his mother. He had been so stressed out lately about her health you didn’t want to bother him with your loneliness.

You then saw Garcia scurrying out of her office down into the bullpen area. You smiled as you saw her walking your way. You stepped in front of her with a huge smile. You were disappointed to not see the same enthusiasm on her face. Your smile instantly dropped.

“Too busy to get something to eat with me?” You asked.

“Unfortunately I am, my little sugar plum, but I will definitely go with you after the holiday,” she said before embracing you in a big hug.

You sighed and hugged her back. “Merry Christmas, P.”

“Merry Christmas, sweet stuff,” she said before scurrying past you.

You turned around to watch her leave like the rest. You sighed as you were starting to realize you probably were the only one without plans this Christmas. It made you quite sad to think about but you did it to yourself every year. What was one more year of sitting alone at a restaurant and having an old man tell you about his dead wife?

“I can go with you if you’d like, Y/N,” you heard Spencer say.

You looked back around to see him standing just a foot away from you. You were in shock he wasn’t busy as you thought he was going to be. You were even more shocked that he wanted to spend a few hours on Christmas day with you.

“You sure? I thought you’d go to Vegas to spend some time with your mom because of her health,” you said.

“I’m flying out tomorrow morning and I’m already packed, so I have time,” he said.

You stood there still in shock. You didn’t think you would be spending your evening with Spencer especially since it was only the two of you. Your look of shock must have made him weary because he furrowed his eyebrows in concern.

“Unless you’ve changed your mind then I’ll just go home,” he said.

You shook your head. “No, no, sorry. We can definitely go together. I’d love to spend my evening having you as my dinner companion.”

He sheepishly smiled. “Great. Should we ask Hotch and Rossi if they want to tag along?”

You chuckled. “Spence, when you reach their age all you want to do with your Christmas is cuddle up with a glass of scotch or whisky.”

He nodded in agreement. “Fair.”

You smiled as you picked up your purse off of your desk. Like the gentleman he was, he offered out his arm for you to hook onto. You didn’t hesitate to grab hold of his bicep and you swore he was flexing for you but that could have been your imagination.

Your favourite Chinese restaurant wasn’t too far from the BAU headquarters. It was only a few blocks down but it took a little longer for you two to get there than it would have been if you were walking by yourself. You enjoyed talking to Spencer and would get lost in every word he would say. From the time you two had left the office, he was talking about some recent discovery in the galaxy and the amount of passion in his voice was admirable.

He was naturally a slower walker compared to your need to fast walk but him talking to you allowed you to bear the brisk winter air for a little longer. The cold didn’t seem to bother him much because he kept looking your way when he was talking to you even though the wind was blowing that way. The way he was smiling at you throughout could have been the reason he was warm because his smile could warm the coldest of nights.

He held the door open to let you in. You blushed and thanked him as you stepped in. Everything he did felt so intimate to you. It felt as if you were at the beginning of your own little Hallmark movie but it could have been your overly active imagination at work again. Maybe it was time for you to retire the Hallmark movies if they were making you think this way.

“For two?” The host asked.

You nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Follow me this way,” she said as she led the way.

She led you both to a booth near the back corner of the restaurant. You both thanked her as she put down your menus. You took off your purse and jacket and tossed them on your seat before scooting in. Spencer followed suit.

As you looked at the menu you couldn’t help but notice Spencer smiling as he looked down at his. You looked up at him with a puzzled look. He looked up from his menu to see your full confused look.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Why are you smiling to yourself?” You asked.

“Uh, well, I just find it kind of funny,” he said.

“Find what kind of funny?” You asked.

“Out of all the things you could have done on Christmas you wanted to eat at a Chinese restaurant,” he said with a soft chuckle.

“Well, if I’m keeping it honest I’ve been craving Chinese for a while and this is one of my favourite spots. I found out a few days ago they have a deal where if you and someone else come in on Christmas Day, you get 50 percent off your meal,” you said.

“Ah, is that why you were asking everyone to tag along?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s probably the lamest way to spend Christmas but I love a good meal and a good price point.”

“I don’t think it’s a lame way to spend Christmas at all. I do this with my mom on most years but instead of Chinese we go eat at Binion’s and indulge in chicken fried lobster.”

You giggled. “I love that. My family went on a cruise I had to miss out on but I’ll see them in a week.”

“Well, if you’re eating on a budget on Christmas Day then you definitely saved yourself some major cash from missing that cruise if that makes you feel better. On average, during a seven-to-eight day cruise passengers spend $212 daily.”

“The way my dad eats he’s probably spending near $300.”

Spencer cracked a wider smile which automatically made you laugh. He broke into a small chuckle once you started it off. You saw the server walking up and automatically calmed down before picking up the menu again. Spencer turned to see the server approach your table. She placed two glasses of water down before taking out her pen and notepad.

“Welcome and Merry Christmas. I would like to start off by mentioning on Christmas we do a special where if two people come in their meal is half off,” she said.

“Oh, I’ve heard,” Spencer said as he looked at you.

You slightly blushed. You didn’t know if it was from the way he looked at you or if it was because you were way too excited about this deal.

“Amazing. Do you two know what you’d like?” She asked.

“Can we get a few more minutes please?” You asked.

“Of course. Would you like any other drink besides water?” She asked.

“No thank you,” you both said in unison.

Your server smiled and nodded before leaving the two of you to look over your menus. It seemed as if he couldn’t keep his eyes on his menu long enough to look over it. His eyes kept wandering up to look at you. Naturally, your eyes wanted to look into his.

“What now?” You giggled.

“How do you feel about looking at Christmas lights?” He asked.

“I love looking at Christmas lights,” you said.

“Awesome. There’s this street in downtown Washington full of them. I think they looked extremely pretty and I thought you’d like them,” he said.

“You thought I’d like them?” You said.

He nodded. “Yeah. I know how much you love Christmas lights, so when I walked by them last night I thought of you.”

“You did?” You asked.

“Yeah. Sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. I didn’t-”

“No, no, I’m not uncomfortable at all. I’d really love to go with you, Spence,” you assured him.

He smiled and you could see the small fade-in of blush appear on his cheeks. If this was the universe’s way of telling you your Hallmark dreams had come true, it was the best possible way to let you know. You could have never imagined your Christmas would be spent with someone you had a crush on and you loved every second of it. You wanted it to become a Christmas tradition every year.

Once you two were done eating, Spencer paid even after you insisted you would. Before you could even take out your card, he had already paid in cash. You hated how he was always one step ahead of the game but it’s one of many things you adored about him.

It had become pitch dark outside as you two waited outside for a taxi to pass by. When you saw the first one come down the street you waved your arms like a maniac. You being the clumsy person you were nearly lost your balance and fell into the road. Spencer quickly grabbed onto your arm to keep you balanced.

As you two rode in the back of the taxi, you were already admiring the Christmas lights on houses and buildings. Spencer would point out ones on his side and you would look out in amazement. He chuckled every time your face would show any form of excitement or wonder. The drive alone was 45 minutes long but it felt like 10 as Spencer preoccupied your time.

When you reached downtown Washington, Spencer opened your door to let you out. He held out his hand to help you get out. He probably didn’t trust your legs holding you up after your little incident. You closed the door behind you and you two started your journey through the city.

“I think blue Christmas lights are my favourite,” you said.

“How come?” He asked.

“They’re the prettiest colour. It’s bright enough to catch your attention but not too overpowering to hurt your eyes,” you said.

“That’s a good reason to like it,” he said.

You giggled. “No fact to go along with my analysis, doctor?”

He chuckled. “I was trying to hold back but blue is a rare colour in nature but the most preferred colour by choice. Throughout history, it has been a top colour associated with relaxation and lowering blood pressure.”

“Amazing. I was struggling with my blood pressure, you know,” you joked.

He looked at you concerned. “What? Y/N, are you okay? If work is stressing you out, I don’t mind taking some of your workload.”

You laughed. “I’m kidding, Spence, but I might take you up on that offer if I ever do feel stressed out at work. What’s your favourite Christmas light colour?”

He pointed to the Christmas lights to his left. You looked and saw green lights hanging off of a storefront. You widened your eyes at how beautiful they looked. Spencer looked at you and smiled at your expression.

“They’re pretty, huh?” He asked.

“Pretty? They’re gorgeous. I didn’t even realize how beautiful the green lights were until they stood alone,” you said.

“Green’s actually the second most popular colour after blue,” he said.

You smiled. “Seems fitting.”

“Oh and in China green jade symbolizes virtue and beauty,” he said.

“Also very fitting,” you said.

You bit your bottom lip as you realized what you had said. You looked to your right to avoid eye contact with him. You couldn’t bear him asking about what you meant. You pointed to your side at another business that had strung green lights all over their store.

“You were right about green being a second favourite next to blue,” you said.

“George Washington’s favourite colour was green,” he said.

“Maybe there’s an ode to George going on in these streets,” you said.

He chuckled. “Possibly even though he was born in February.”

You laughed at his joke even though he didn’t know it was one. As you two continued walking you couldn’t help but notice all the couples populating the streets. Young couples, old couples, couples with kids. You looked over at Spencer to see his gaze looking from couple to couple as well.

You stared up at him wondering if he too wished they were those couples. Not that you wished you were any couple specifically but just a couple in general. You thought you two would look cute together especially on Christmas.

You soon noticed couples walking past you two smiling. You politely smiled back and so did Spencer. You weren’t sure if they were doing it to be polite or doing it because they thought you two were also a couple. Maybe they also saw the potential you two had together.

You sighed and decided it was best to turn your attention back to the lights. Again you saw green Christmas lights brighten a toy store’s front display. You don’t think you’ve ever seen so many green lights in your life. You started to think he had set this up.

“Spence, everyone has green lights up. I think they surpass blue in popularity now,” you said.

“Where do you see them?” He asked.

“Oh, you poor thing. I forgot you’re not wearing your glasses. They’re kind of small and on the inside showcase,” you said as you dragged him by his hand to the toy store.

As you two walked up to the store you could see his face lighten up when he saw the lights. You smiled at how excited he was to see all these green lights. As you recalled green and purple were his favourite colours so seeing all this green probably made him overly excited.

“Everywhere’s green for you, Spence,” you said.

“You know, many people don’t know this but green is the colour of love since it’s associated with Venus,” he said.

“Someone on this street must love you a lot then if they’re hanging up all these green lights,” you said.

“If you didn’t do it then I don’t want whoever did,” he said.

You looked at him in shock. You gave him a second to correct himself or at least elaborate for you but he didn’t. Once he said what he had to say, he stayed quiet as if he was waiting for you to say the next few words.

“Wait, repeat that and please say it with your chest this time so I know I heard you correctly,” you said in disbelief.

“I like you a lot, Y/N. More than words could ever express. I know you might not feel the same way but I just had to get it off my chest,” he said.

As he said that it felt as if the whole world went silent. You took in every word he said and it still didn’t feel real to you. You looked up at him as he waited anxiously for you to respond. You then looked up to see a stream of mistletoe hanging above you two. You looked back at him.

“You wanna know how I really feel?” You asked.

“Ye-”

Before he could fully respond to you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and nearly jumped into him to kiss his soft lips. He grabbed you by your waist to keep you close to him as your tongues exchanged names. You didn’t want to stop but you were curious to see his reaction to what you just did. It was priceless.

He stared at you in a mix of confusion, happiness and love. You uncontrollably giggled at his expression. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone express three different emotions in one go before.

“You know, I did always want to star in my own Hallmark movie,” you joked.

“I’m glad I could give that to you,” he said.

“I think there’s one more thing you could give to me,” you said.

“Anything. What is it?” He asked.

“Another kiss,” you said.

He chuckled. “I’d kiss you forever.”

He leaned in and you didn’t hesitate to latch onto his lips. Even though the cold breeze was shaking you to the core, your happiness kept you going. You couldn’t possibly go back to watching Hallmark movies after getting the real thing. Besides you felt after this moment your next Christmas’ would be spent in Vegas at Binion’s eating chicken fried lobster.

—–

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @shadyladyperfection, @slutforthegubes, @pinkdiamond1016, @spencerreidsthings, @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto, @slutforsr @bxtchboy69, @fallinallinmendes @haihappen5 @mgg-theprettiestboy @siltuz-png @ptrs-prkrs @tclaerh @agentadhd @alexmarie29 @closetedreidstan @mac99martin @blxckhearthood @jesspavlik0vsky @katexrichardson @keniaasf @reidbuck @corishirogane3 @thegoddamncrazycatlady @keniaasf @pastelbabygirl19 @shadybagelsludgecolor @bootycrackraisinjuice @vintagebeauty1496 @bluerose512​ @laneybobeczko-g​ @averyhotchner​ @littlewierdalien @cynbx

[pastorpresent]

Bobby had always known there was something different about the Winchester boys.

His friendship with John had quickly become strained, because he never quite understood the mans insistence of bringing the two boys into such a fucked up life. He butted heads with the eldest Winchester pretty much every other week, but he had to admit he saw his boys like his own sons.

The first time he met them, Sam had been 8. He hadn't known anything about monsters that lurked in the night, thought his daddy was just a buisness man. He had been a painfully shy and tiny thing, sat pressed firmly against Dean as he clung to his older brother and gave Bobby tentative looks.

After he lets Sam have access to his library, the kid seemed to settle a lot better. He spent 70 percent of his time with his nose in a book, 20 percent talking about his book and 10 percent sleeping.

Dean had been 12. He knew all about all the horrific monsters of the world. If he hadn't been so small, Bobby would've believed him to be far older. He acted like it for sure. He wouldn't let Bobby get near Sam for those first few visits, either. He was like some sort of silent guard dog, always sat close to wherever Sam was just flicking through a comic or watching TV with an arm always draped around his younger brother. If Bobby got too close to Sam his face would harden, and that arm around his brother would tighten even if Sam seemed oblivious.

After half a dozen visits, Dean seemed to decide he wasn't a threat.

He was still quiet and spent most his time watching Sam but he didn't look at Bobby like he was trying to make him drop dead from a single stare anymore whenever he got close to Sam.

Sam really warmed to him. He would babble endlessly about what he had been reading about and a few times they tossed a ball back and forth outside together. Sam was like a little ball of sunshine after that initial shyness melted away, and Bobby had really hoped that he wouldn't lose that positive outlook once John inevitably taught him about the horrors of the world.

He wasn't sure how Sam found out eventually, but he could pin point it directly to that three week gap between one of their visits and the next.

And Bobby's hopes for Sam to remain bright and happy were dashed.

That visit was a good three years after he first met the boys, but the tension made it feel like one of those very first ones.

John had dropped them off with nothing but a gruff 'see you in two weeks', and Dean looked frustrated and upset, grabbing both him and Sam's duffel before pulling open Sam's door and practically dragging him out.

Sam hadn't said a single word. He hadn't said hi to Bobby, or locked him in one of those crushing hugs he had began associating with the kid.

And if Bobby thought Dean carried himself older all those years ago? He kept forgetting Dean was 15 rather than 30.

Sam hadn't picked up a single book during those two weeks, just sat curled up in a ball next to Dean while jumping at every slight noise. Bobby cooked his favourite meals, but Sam barely ate any of them. He had a nightmare every single night for the entirety of those two weeks, and Bobby would always rush in upon hearing the youngests terrified screams and cries only to find Dean already there with him curled up on his lap. Bobby watched him whisper reassurance, kiss the top of Sam's head as he rocked him back and forth.

That light in Sam's eyes had gone out, and Dean's green ones had grew duller.

He had never hated John Winchester quite as much as he had during those two weeks.

Eventually things got back to normal. As normal as they could be, anyway. Sam began reading more lore books, asking Bobby on parts he was unsure about. He was never that happy little kid again, but he seemed to be finding some acceptance for their situation. Dean seemed less on edge too, which wasn't surprising since Bobby had long learnt that a calm Sam typically made for a calm Dean.

It was shortly before Sam's 15th birthday when he began to notice something else.

Nothing monster related. At first, Bobby was convinced he was being a paranoid idiot. He must be reading stuff wrong, or twisting perfectly innocent things into something they didn't deserve to be.

But Sam always came out of their room in Dean's shirt. He watched Dean wipe food from the corner of Sam's lips, and the way their eyes lingered for a beat too long on one another. They still sat far too close, and a couple of times Bobby was convinced he had seen Dean's arm slung low around Sam's hip poorly covered by a blanket.

He had his suspicions, but he still refused to believe it. They had always been oddly close, but it was always just... a protective brother thing. An inevitable product of their unstable upbringing.

It was three months later when he got his concrete proof that whatever was going on with the Winchester boys was far more than that.

He had woken up far earlier than normal, and decided to go make a start on breakfast. Except when he got to the doorway of the kitchen, Sam and Dean were already up.

"Hmmm, I'm glad dad didn't take you with him this time." Sam's tone was soft, made even softer by the tinge of sleep still present.

Bobby peeped around the doorway as subtly as he could. Sam was sat on the cluttered kitchen counter, in one of Dean's old ACDC shirts. Dean was stood between his spread thighs, face buried in Sam's neck.

"I know baby, missed you so bad last time." Dean murmured, so quiet that Bobby almost didnt hear. Dean lifted his head, sending Sam a gentle smile so very similiar to those fond ones he used to send his little brother years before, when Sam said or did something particularly impressive.

Bobby's head was swimming with so many questions. He wasn't... he wasn't disgusted, or disappointed even.

Part of him already knew. And an even deeper part of him knew this was inevitable, something absolutely natural for their paths in life even if everyone else would vehemently argue otherwise.

"Kiss me, De."

Bobby turned and left, padding back to his bedroom as silently as he could manage.

Something had always been different about the Winchester boys, but he would never label it as something wrong.

He just hoped they were damn better at hiding it from their dad, because Bobby had no idea how the man would react. But while they were under his roof? Bobby would play the role of blissfully ignorant for them easily.

[dreamties]

Slashers W/ a Punk S/O

T/W- q*eer is used a few times- in a positive, self affirming kind of way. But I can add other trigger warnings if needed. :)

A/n- Literally no one asked for this, but I wanted to make more HCs like the soft pastel one...so I just went wild and made them. 

I included a little bit of punk culture into this as well, because it’s not just about the fashion, but since there’s such a vast variety within punk culture I mostly stuck with my experiences in the community, and some bits and pieces from documentaries(mostly live footage from “The Decline of Western Civilization”).

Characters: Billy/Stu, The Lost Boys, Norman Bates, Michael Myers

Will make one(s) for Brahms, Amanda, Helen or Daniel if asked

Billy Loomis + Stu Macher

so early 90s, the Riot Grrrl movement emerges

bands like Bikini Kill, Bratmobile, Heavens to Betsy or Sleater-Kinney

it’s a very female-powered oriented movement, but I notice that a lot of minorities tend to be drawn to this music and community (LGBT folks, people of color, etc).

both boys, and yourself, being outside of the norm and all (polyamorous relationship, gay/bi) are sort of drawn to it!

and sure there’s a lot of really great queercore/homocore bands, and there’s probably a good LGBT+ punk scene out there somewhere, but in a little town like Woodsboro? Hell no. Sticking with this fem punk movement, while again mostly a space for women in music- it’s the most accepted the three of you have felt outside of you’re relationship. 

you’ve always been pretty into the music, stuff like Dead Kennedys, Black Flag, or the short-lived Germs- but it wasn’t until you stumbled upon Riot Grrrl that you really got into it. 

the music, making zines about local-ish political issues(probably not so much Woodsboro stuff, more Cali in general and neighboring towns) and a few ones with queer themes and hand-drawn illustrations of your partners, and DIYing all your clothes

since you’re so experienced with DIYing your clothes and sewing on patches, you’ve helped repair the Ghostface costumes on numerous occasions. they kind of adore this(Stu is the only one that will- and does, frequently- admit that)

Let’s face it, the three of you do everything together- but you especially enjoy when Stu tags along for thrift dates. 

he’s the more fashionable one, and he makes the whole experience more enjoyable- cracking jokes and just being his all-around goofy self.

Woodsboro is a very little town, so they don’t have much...but they do have a few small stores- usually you’ll make a whole day/date out of it though. driving to the next town or so over, since they have more stores and a better selection, and spending hours looking for cheap, old t-shirts, belts, clothes with funky patterns. heading out for pizza after.

Billy’s more likely to get into the music and everything with you(he’s kinda,, angsty, no offense to him)- will definitely go to shows with you.

just- imagine Billy in ripped jeans. and he’d have like one or two patches sewn on to it- one of them is your all time favorite band, and the other is a band that he found on his own time, and actually really enjoyed.

Stu is dragged along with you guys, you can’t just leave him at home- he’s gonna feel left out and sad. :(

He’s mostly there to keep y’all company- he really likes the energy of the shows though!

the two of them are such a chaotic duo though, so much so that you have definitely been kicked out or banned from a few venues. all for varying reasons. good grief these men can not be tamed.

The Lost Boys

as we all know, these vampires are total punks. so they’re gonna appreciate having a s/o who’s also into that whole scene.

How you meet:

you’re a baby punk, and it’s your first show ever, and you look so nervous. you’re dressed up in pretty plain clothes, a single homemade patch for your favorite band barely hanging to your jacket side(you were mid-way sewing it, when you realized you were gonna be late if you didn’t leave asap).

it’s a few local bands, ones you’d never really heard of really. you look anxious. but when they start playing? you look so unapologetically yourself, you’re so in the moment dancing- it’s completely mesmerizing to the boys. the music isn’t even that good, but you seem to be having the time of your life.

they greet you after the show, and you’re a tiny bit flustered- cause gosh, heck, they saw you. dancing. so embarrassing. 

David is the one that introduces himself and the group, and initiates conversation. Dwayne’s a pretty quiet guy, so he just listens to what you have to say. 

Marko’s pretty excited about you, and initiates in some small conversation, he may have complimented your little patch(Marko- patch jacket KING, complimenting your jacket?? more likely than you’d think) 

and oh, oh- Paul is out there being a total chatty-cathy, and is absolutely bombarding you with questions. like, okay, Paul is pretty talkative, but the other vamps are a little worried that he’s scared you off. and you had seemed so cool :(

you end up pretty engaged in your convo with Paul though, even if all the attention is overwhelming. He ends up snagging a date for the five of you the following week.

once you start hanging out/dating:

y’all just hit it off so well those first few days. they all love how sweet & shy you are- but also how much of a badass punk babe you are.

Marko helps make your patch jacket(collecting ones for bands you enjoy, how to make your own, sewing them on, etc). you probably could have done it w/out his help, but my gosh- you weren’t going to pass up this opportunity. Marko gets really soft around you sometimes, since he doesn’t really do this activity with anyone else, it’s saved for you. 🥺🥺

Dwayne likes listening to you talking about the local scene(outside of the shows you go to- mostly about stuff he can’t attend, protests and meetings during the daylight.)

all of them(especially David) are very protective of you. I mean, generally. but also when you go to shows. they let you do whatever the heck you’re gonna do, but the mere second that someone even thinks about starting shit w/ you?? well, y’know. those vampire instincts kick in.

the four of them obviously share a lot of similar tastes in music- but they all have different favorite bands, & fave parts of the community. which, they can’t even fully participate in,, but it’s okay.

they, individually, introduce their favorite bands to you. and they get it in their head that oh, they said they liked it. they must like it as much as I do. and awkwardly coming out to the four of them, as they argue about your favorite band, “Well, actually- this *insert band they’ve never heard of or barely listen to* is my favorite.” and their just kinda like, oh, okay. please tell us more about them. 

so it’s sorta like,, you’ve been learning all this cool knowledge from them, now you get to share cool knowledge with them.

idk. I think it’s cute. 💕

Norman Bates

so first off- let’s just pretend Psycho was in at least the 70s/80s for a moment. because realistically- the punk subculture didn’t really exist back then.

baby boy is absolutely fascinated by the way you dress (mother is less thrilled though)

imagine your jacket is getting a bit weathered, and needs some repairs- so he helps you to sew edges closed, and make sure the patches aren’t on too loose, etc

he enjoys hearing your stories of all the past shows you’ve gone to. you always get so excited about them, and he finds that so endearing. But he pretty much leaves the actual punk scene to you because of these stories.

he was already worried from the stories, and made sure you were well prepared for any trouble every time you left for a show.

but one time, you were able to get him to join you. never again though. he was so nervous!

the music was too loud! and he could hardly understand what they were saying- it was so confusing!

you stayed with him most of the night, standing near the back, holding his hand. he’d gently bob his head to the music occasionally. 

but you accidentally found yourself swept into the crowd, but you looked so blissed-out in the moment, that he figured it would be okay for you to dance* over there for a little bit...right?  

*Norman is still unsure if you’d even call that dancing.

Thankfully, nothing bad happened in the mosh pit.

you gotta give him lots of attention and reassurance afterwards though- you almost scared Norman half to death D:

He’s happy enough helping you out and listening to you though- and that’s okay for you, too. you still love each other lots, even if this particular interest doesn’t overlap.

Michael Myers

he thinks you’re outfits are pretty interesting. 

he’s a little worried at first, when you start experimenting with putting things like safety pins in your ears. cause like- that’s not supposed to be in your ear, Y/n, what the fuck

if you make zines at all, Michael really enjoys watching you make the illustrations for them(not that he’ll admit to it though), and helps to find newspaper and magazine clippings to incorporate into the spreads.

you always show michael the final booklet before distributing it

he doesn’t talk a lot, so he doesn’t ask questions- but he often does the little head tilt once you give it to him. since he’s not very privy to current events, and a lot of your zines are political, you spend a lot of time explaining them in depth.

he has no use for any of this knowledge, but he listens on, intently.

Important note:

dear god do not bring this man to concerts and local shows with you.

it is a nightmare, to say the least

Michael is sort of,, emotionless sometimes, doesn’t really care for people at all, and if he does? definitely not in the same way most people do. 

so imagine combining that part of michael, the fact that he’s also a giant stabby man, with super loud, energetic- almost aggressive- sounding music and a bunch of strangers that aren’t respecting any personal boundaries. 

you need to keep him at the back of the venue- lest your local scene may go missing.

[whereisten]

ghouls just wanna have fun (A Creature Feature Story)

A Taeil fic that’s part of our Halloween Series! 

Summary: After your date ends up being a dud, you stumbled upon an unusual movie theater and its most appealing visitor, Moon Taeil. 

Pairing: Ghost! Taeil x female reader

Genre: romance, angst, pinch of smut, drama, fantasy, horror

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: gore mention, death mention, smut: masturbation mention

(A/N: Hi! Special shoutout to the Creature Feature readers. I love you...It’s almost one year to the day that I posted Part 1 (I know: where the hell is the rest of it?). Rest assured, the series will continue in November. This Halloween series has gotten me out of my funk. I hope you enjoy this story. And to newcomers, welcome! This story can be read alone, if you'd like, but I think you’d enjoy this more if you read my Creature Feature updates! Anyways: SHOUTOUT TO MY BEST FRIEND AND PARTNER IN CRIME/WRITING KRYS. SHE CREATED ANOTHER SPECTACULAR MOODBOARD FOR ME. SHE’S MADE SEVERAL FOR ME. AND I AM SO SPOILED. HER BRILLIANT BRAIN AND VISION DESERVE ALL OF THE LOVE. SEND IT HER WAY. We hope you enjoy this installment and our upcoming posts! Thank you for all of the love in our stories so far!

___

“Jaebum, I’m not going. Let me off here,” you demanded.

Well, tonight was just fantastic. Fan-freaking-tastic.

Your date that your friends set you up with ended up being a bust. He wanted to take you to a house party so he can get high and you could be his side piece for the night. Your friends were all in committed relationships and they thought you were bummed because you felt single and bitter.

No, you were just bummed at the fact that your friends had blown you off too many times for their significant others. That was the actual problem.

But they were doing better with you, you had to admit. They spent more time with you as their honeymoon stages with their significant others had finally dwindled. The set-up was supposed to be for fun.

They even thought that this date could open doors for you.

Doors to what? Well, it ended up being to the stench of weed in the back of Jaebum’s old Sonata.

Jaebum’s car, which included his two stoner friends Jinyoung and Yugyeom, came to a halt at a red light near a plaza.

“You want to leave, y/n? Then here’s your stop,” Jaebum said.

You raised your eyebrows. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Jaebum shrugged. “Take it or leave it. I got places to go.” His friends muttered over how uncool you were. The least this jerk could’ve done was take you back home.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Go to hell.”

The car sped off as you stood near the plaza entrance. It was getting colder as midnight approached. So you decided to wait outside of an abandoned Spirit Halloween store so your Uber could pick you up from there. You walked towards the plaza and suddenly…

Bright lights appeared before you that you quickly shut your eyes. You blinked them open, wondering what just transpired when you realized...

There was an active movie theater there, with a giant sign surrounded by bright light bulbs. It read “Sinema”.

What the hell, you thought.

You walked closer and closer and saw people coming in and out of the theater. And then...oh, wow, you really had lost your mind. Little human-like creatures of different colors were flying around the entrance...They were fairies! Their pixie fairy dust landed on your shoulders. You picked off the dust that had fallen on the shoulder of your dress. The texture reminded you of Cheeto dust. It was hard to get off. You were certain your black dress was permanently stained.

Then, a man walked past you and transformed into a large purple dragon before your very eyes. He blew out fire within a few feet from you, you yelped. He set off for the sky and vanished. After, another group of men walked past you, flashing their vampire teeth as they laughed about something. They were all stunning but the one with wavy electric blue hair was the real showstopper. You couldn’t think that too long as people that looked bright and transparent walked towards you.

You thought they were going to bump into you so you said. “Hello? Watch where you’re going!”

But they walked right through you and kept going. Seemed like they got that kind of comment a lot.

You blinked a few times. Did that just happen? Were those...ghosts?

A young woman in her red and navy blue uniform appeared before you. She smiled. “Welcome to Sinema, the premier theater for the supernatural! My name is Haseul. You look like you have a lot of questions. Is this your first time here?”

“I...I…” You started. “Is this really happening?”

She laughed. “Yes...All supernatural creatures and their approved companions are welcome here!”

You frowned. “There must be some mistake. I’m not a supernatural creature.”

Haseul pulled out her phone. “Your name?”

“Uh...y/n y/l/n…” You said. “Wait, why did I say that?” You answered her without even thinking. It was like she compelled you to do what she asked.

She winked. “It’s a special little skill of mine. It’s a part of the job.” She scrolled through an app on her phone. “Well, you’re not a part of the approved human companions list so...You have to be supernatural!”

You gaped. “That’s funny…This is a joke, right? Some kind of Halloween event? Well, you’re a few months too late…”

Haseul shook her head. “Oh, no, this is no reenactment. This is the real deal. Allow me to escort you inside.”

You weren’t sure if that was a good idea but you were curious. You followed her inside.

The movie theater was elegant and modern. The latest video games were available at the arcade. The concession stand was huge. It had to be with the number of creatures that were lined up for snacks. The theater was three stories high. Posters for the latest movies were up. The music that played overhead consisted of songs from the 70s, 80s, and more. Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” was playing.  Sinema seemed like any regular theater.

Well, except for the supernatural creatures, of course.

“What is this place?” You asked Haseul. “This can’t be real...I’ve been drugged. Jaebum got something in my system and I’m hallucinating. That has to be it.”

Haseul gave you a confused look. “This place is very real, y/n. I know it might be a hard pill to swallow but you belong here. To the supernatural world. A part of you is connected to this world. I’m not sure why it took you so long to discover that but...you’re here now.”

Haseul’s phone rang and she answered. “Yeah, boss?...Okay, I’ll stop calling you that...Oh? I see. Well, have fun with your boyfriend…” She teased. She hung up and she continued, “Well, y/n, I must be going but if you need anything, you can reach out to anyone who is wearing this uniform.” She showed off her uniform. She looked like a very casual flight attendant. The navy blue skirt was very flattering on her. Her white blouse had a red tie over it. Her name tag had her name written in her own elegant cursive.

“W-wait…” You started.

Haseul gave you a reassuring smile. “You can stay or leave, y/n. No one is keeping you here. But know that you’re always welcome here at Sinema. We hope to see you again.” She walked off to resume working, you thought.

You stood there, confused over what to do. Going to the movies hadn’t been in the cards for you tonight. Much less finding out that the supernatural existed in the same world you did.

Unless this was a parallel world, which just made your head spin even more.

Deciding to stay, you went back out to the main entrance to buy tickets. You heard growls among the chatter of people that stood in line before you. All kinds of creatures stood in front of you: werewolves, selkies, fairies, kitsunes, and more. You felt like the only outsider. For everyone else seemed to know their place…

According to Haseul, the only reason you could access this place was because you were a supernatural creature. And that...that just couldn’t be true. Sure you were adopted but you never displayed any kind of power or ability that would indicate you were a creature.

It was impossible, you thought. A striking young man with long silver hair stood behind you and you could feel his eyes on the back of your head. He was tall and muscular. You wondered what kind of creature he was or if he was actually a companion like Haseul described. You turned to him and his stare never wavered. “Can I help you?” You asked.

He blinked a few times to snap out of it. “I’m sorry...I zoned out…” He tipped an imaginary hat. “It’s your turn.”

“Miss?” The employee at the ticket stand asked. Like the young man behind you, she seemed human. However, the red tint in her eyes told you otherwise. You wondered what she could be.

“Oh, uh... A ticket to ‘Spider-Man: The New Kid’, please,” you said.

“That’ll be 12.50,” the employee replied.

Even if this was a movie theater for the supernatural, they certainly charged like a regular theater did. You paid the employee and got your ticket. The ticket stub was actually very beautiful. It was holographic so you could collect these stubs like trading cards, if you wanted.

You hung around too long so the silver-haired boy approached you.

He smiled at you. “Hello.”

You smiled, a little uneasy. “Hi…”

“First time at Sinema?” He asked. The man was stunning with his high cheekbones and dangerous dark eyes. A devil-may-care smile that must have won over a few women.

You nodded. “Is it that obvious?”

“The look of horror on your face hasn’t faded,” he said, chuckling.

You sighed. “Yeah...Well, I’m still pretty stunned.”

He said, “Well, you’ll get used to it eventually. Something about you makes you belong to this world, right? Do you know what it is?” His eyes widened.

It was almost as if he knew the answer. But if you didn’t know, how could he?

You sighed. “I couldn’t tell you. Maybe I’m just a fluke.”

“Oh, I have to disagree…” He started.

A ghost materialized right beside you. He stood closer to you and stared down the silver-haired man. Even if he was a ghost, he was the most alluring man you’d ever seen. Although translucent, his features were striking and not to be ignored. His undercut that accentuated his face so well was bright red, like rubies. His ears were decorated with crescent moon studs. He wore a navy button down and black slacks, like he was dressed for a hot date. His tan skin cast an ethereal glow. “Yuta, give the girl some air. She just discovered she’s not human.”

The silver-haired man named Yuta sighed. “Do you ever stay out of people’s business?”

The ghost rolled his eyes. “Do you?”

You averted your eyes from them and looked at the concessions menu. Hmmm, the Sour Patch Bats looked promising, you thought. You started, “I’m gonna go.”

Yuta was about to call your name again but the ghost boy raised his hand to stop him. “You’re already messing around here too much. Leave her alone.”

Yuta rolled his eyes. “I don’t have to listen to you. I’m the alpha.”

The ghost boy made faces as he imitated Yuta’s voice. “I’m the alpha. I eat the hearts of my enemies for breakfast. I’m Yuta.”

Yuta growled and it was so animalistic that you wondered if he was going to transform into the creature he most likely was. Your money was on him being a werewolf.

Yuta stormed off and returned to his posse of gorgeous and muscular people. They all watched you and you wondered what was so fascinating about you.

The ghost boy followed you as you got in line for concessions. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n...Yours?” You looked into his soulful eyes.

He smiled. “I’m Taeil. The eyes and ears of Sinema. And you’re new.”

“Yup...And I have no idea who I am or what the world is anymore…Well, it’s time for a snack.”

Taeil chuckled. “The Sour Patch bats are really popular but they sell out fast.”

An employee at the concession stand announced over the intercom. “Sorry, folks. The Sour Patch Bats are sold out.”

Everyone groaned and moaned and growled and wailed. Even you couldn’t help the tiny huff of disappointment that escaped your lips.

Taeil sighed. “Well, lucky for you y/n. I’m friends with the manager of this joint.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh, are you?”

He smirked. “I know where she keeps her secret stash of Sour Patch Bats. Now she normally hides those away for her boyfriend but I’m sure she won’t miss one bag…”

Taeil led you upstairs to the manager’s office.

You frowned. “Are you sure we can be here?”

Taeil winked. “Nope. But she owes me.”

Taeil moved himself through the front door and unlocked the door from the inside. You entered the office and found a bouquet of flowers on the manager’s desk.

“How did you touch…”

He cleared his throat like he’d debated what he was going to say. “With most of my strength, y/n...Anything to impress the prettiest girl to set foot in Sinema.”

Although your concept of ghosts was completely debunked (ghosts could indeed touch inanimate objects), your face warmed up at that comment. You tried changing the subject. “Taeil, maybe this is a bad idea…”

He shook his head as he stuck his hand through the manager’s desk drawer and rummaged around before he grabbed a bag of the popular candy. He threw it over to you. You caught it.

You opened the bag and ate the bat-shaped sour gummies of lime, orange, lemon, and cherry. They were the best candy you’d ever tasted and until tonight, you’d been deprived of their existence.

Your eyes grew. “These are...Oh my God.”

Taeil smiled knowingly. “I knew you’d like them. See, the supernatural world isn’t so bad, is it?”

You were touched. He was being so kind and attentive. So quickly, too. “No, I guess not…”

His beautiful lips curved upwards as he watched you enjoy the candy.

“What movie are you going to see?” He asked.

“Well, Taeil, I thought you were the eyes and ears of this place. You should know,” you teased.

He laughed. “Well, I don’t. Is it an oldie? Sinema plays throwback movies every week to appease the masses.”

You shook your head. “I’m watching the new Spider-Man. The new actor they picked is supposed to be above all of his predecessors so I’m excited.”

Taeil asked. “Can I join you?”

You pretended to deliberate. “Well, you have supplied me with sustenance so how could I say no?”

Taeil usually kept to himself, occasionally confiding in his best friend. He really was the eyes and ears of the theater. He knew of all the romantic entanglements that transpired. The current feuds between species. And more.

Typically, he was stuck facing his demons and never quite got past the last thing he needed to overcome in order to ascend to heaven.

He’d sought justice so what was holding him back?

And at the sight of you, he felt an ease in his heart that he hadn’t felt since he was alive.

___

Your first night at Sinema was the first of many where you and Taeil bonded and enjoyed each other’s company. You went to the theater every weekend and met up with him. You’d see a movie together and talk about it for hours on end. He’d even sometimes accompany you back to your dorm. And even if you could see him...no one else in the human realm could. So you would have to pretend you were on the phone when you talked to Taeil. Even as he sat closely beside you. Longing to hold your hand.

You wondered just how many creatures hid from you in plain sight. Some of them could masquerade as humans and you’d never know it. That terrified and excited you.

You loved Taeil’s sense of humor, how he showered you with free movie tickets and concessions (courtesy of his best friend’s connections), his wit, his smile, the goofy, fascinated look he gave you when you spoke.

You always wanted to push back his hair and slap his arm when he teased you. And you wondered what those soft red lips would feel like on yours.

But you couldn’t.

The most wonderful person you’d ever met.

And he was an apparition.

As for Taeil, well, he loved everything about you. Your mind. Your curiosity of the world. Your inability to shut away the unknown completely. The way you adapted to Sinema so quickly. The way you looked at him.

He was convinced that you also wanted to kiss him.

It killed you both, honestly.

You told him you were in your senior year of college. You were getting a degree as a nutritionist but you felt unsure about what you would pursue after college. You felt like nothing got your heart racing. You were just going through the motions, making your parents proud. They’d given so much to you so you didn’t want to disappoint them. So you figured getting a steady paying job was a step in the right direction and maybe one day you’d figure out your passion...and how to capitalize off of it.

Taeil could tell you were frustrated and lost and he wished you didn’t feel so down. He saw the light in your eyes. You had a whole future ahead of you. You would find your dream job someday, meet a man, settle down, have his children, and grow old together.

And him? Well, maybe at that point, he would finally have moved on.

Before meeting you, he was fixated on getting even with the man who murdered him and the woman who betrayed him and got the ball rolling.

He told you all about it...Originally, he didn’t want to because the details were too gruesome. But you’d been honest with him so it was the least he could do for you. He told you about his life in the west coast town of Luna, where he aspired to be a producer and songwriter. And he told you about how his life came to an abrupt end.

Taeil’s killer had been none other than Jung Jaehyun, the man whom his girlfriend had cheated on him with. Jaehyun was a member of one of Luna’s most notorious gangs and he detested Taeil. Taeil’s girlfriend, Lexa, didn’t know how to break up with Taeil so she could be with Jaehyun. She was frustrated because Taeil was so sweet and giving. He was so good to her that Lexa chickened out and never broke up with him. She was getting frustrated and Jaehyun was getting even angrier.

One of the nights that Lexa spent with Jaehyun, she let it slip that she wished there was a way she could get rid of Taeil. And Jaehyun was more than happy to oblige.

Jaehyun and his men cornered Taeil one night. He thought he was meeting Lexa for their 300 day anniversary. He got a text from her phone saying to meet her on the rooftop of the Nectarine Hotel because she had a surprise for him.

However, she was nowhere to be seen. Jaehyun took Taeil by surprise and pushed him off of the twenty story luxury hotel.

Jaehyun’s men lingered downstairs and made sure there were no witnesses on the scene. All evidence of Taeil’s death had been covered up. Taeil’s family and friends reported Taeil as a missing person. Lexa had also disappeared off of the face of the Earth. And many wondered if she and Taeil had disappeared to start anew.

That couldn’t have been further from the truth. Jaehyun, Lexa, and his men disposed of Taeil’s body off underneath an overpass. They’d buried his body and washed their cleans of him.

Taeil always thought about whether or not an afterlife existed. When he hit the ground from his fall, everything went black. The roaring pain all over his body that hit him for one moment...Quickly vanished at the next.

Taeil opened his eyes again and instead of seeing Downtown Luna...Only white surrounded him. Surrounded by golden specks.

An angel appeared before him with stunning peach-colored wings. The angel shined so brightly that Taeil couldn’t make out their face. They spoke softly… “Moon Taeil...Born June 14, 1994...Died October 22, 2018.”

Taeil sobbed then. “Please, is there any way you can save me?”

The angel sighed. “My poor child...You’ve been wronged. I want to give you the opportunity to seek justice...And once you have seeked justice and found peace, you can ascend into Heaven and join us. Our Heavenly Father awaits you.”

Before Taeil could respond, he became a ghost. He manifested into another town he couldn’t recognize. It was the city of Mystic. Jaehyun lived a life of luxury and terrorized the new city with his gang. And who reigned right beside him in a God-awful bubblegum pink wig?

The woman he’d loved and planned to propose to: Lexa.

Lexa played around with the buttons on Jaehyun’s designed shirt as she quietly thanked him for killing Taeil. And Jaehyun murmured back a thank you for giving him the idea and for suggesting a good hiding place for his remains.

Taeil felt sick to his stomach. The love he felt for Lexa had quickly shifted into hatred. And Taeil wanted revenge. He wanted to take them both down. But how, he wondered.

It took him a few more months to figure out how exactly he could enact revenge on them. Haunting them for a few weeks was a thrill but he wanted Jaehyun behind bars. And Lexa? Well, Taeil just wanted her to drown in guilt.

And then, Taeil found Sinema, a supernatural hub in the seemingly typical town of Mystic. Taeil struck a deal with the vampires to help them dig up his body. They in turn compelled the police to find his remains and track down Jaehyun.

Taeil owed the vampires a few months of haunting humans who had deceived them when they were once humans. So both parties were happy.

Taeil decided to spare Lexa from prison. Instead, her family, her friends, and everyone from Luna shunned her for having a hand in Taeil’s murder. Although she was never charged, she was as good as guilty as Jaehyun and his men.

Lexa remained in Mystic in a run-down apartment, barely making ends meet. The luxuries she was able to afford before, because of Taeil and then because of Jaehyun, were no longer accessible to her so she lived a life full of resentment.

But Taeil visited her many nights to remind her that more than anything, she should’ve felt guilt and remorse for what she’d done to him.

How she convinced him that he’d found happiness in her. How she made him out to be a fool. And how she discarded him like a piece of trash.

Lexa’s mind slowly unraveled over time and the guilt slowly consumed her each time.

Taeil ate it all up. This felt like justice and he didn’t want to ascend just yet. He wanted Lexa to get on her knees and pray to God for forgiveness for what she’d done to Taeil.

But that day hadn’t come. So Taeil frequented her apartment at night...Having Lexa think she dreamed of him as she slept.

One late Saturday night...going into Sunday morning, Taeil waited with you at the bench for your Uber to arrive to take you back to your dorm. Sometimes he accompanied you to the dorm and talked to you. You’d have to pretend you were on the phone so your Uber driver didn’t think you were talking to an imaginary friend.

Tonight, though, he wouldn’t be taking you home.

You asked, “Are you going to see her now?”

Taeil froze. “What?”

You wondered aloud, “Lexa...Do you haunt her on the weekends too?”

“Not recently, actually...I’ve been seeing her less.”

You smiled. “Taeil, that’s great. It means you’re getting over her.”

Taeil glared. “I don’t need to get over her. I despise her.”

Your smile vanished. “I know that. It’s just-”

He shot back, “Just what?”

You looked down at your hands and played with your fingers. “It’s just...You’ve sought justice...Jaehyun is rotting in a jail cell...Lexa is guilty over what she’s done...And...I hate to say this...But I think if you stop going to see her...There’s a chance you can finally ascend.”

He looked taken aback at your words. “I can ascend whenever I want.”

You lifted an eyebrow. “Really?”

Taeil looked even more annoyed as he sneered. “Absolutely. Excuse me for wanting to spend a little more time with you before I leave forever.”

His words infuriated you. “Taeil, you...I’m not the reason you want to stay...You’re hung up on your ex. Even if it’s not in the romantic sense...You’re fixated on terrorizing her until what? She begs for forgiveness?”

“And what the hell is wrong with that?”

“Taeil, you’re meant to find peace. You have to let her go.”

“Well, y/n, thank you for your opinion. I never asked for it but it’s certainly never stopped you...Have a safe trip back to your dorm.”

“Fine! Manifest yourself back to me when you get a grip.” You crossed your arms around your chest in anger. He was unbelievable. You were right. He just wouldn’t let go. He wouldn’t give up on seeing that...that wretched bitch.

Why did you let this piss you off so much and why were you overstepping...You had no right…

Perhaps it was because you’d fallen for Taeil and seeing him jeopardize his fate over this woman infuriated you like nothing else had.

The full moon was out that night and you couldn’t help but yell in fury at the sky.

Someone crept up behind you and with his claws, he scratched deeply into your collarbone. “Hey, what the fuck?!”

You turned around to find a werewolf before you. It was a literal wolf on two legs. His muscles protruded like that of a man’s but they were so large...You knew he could easily snap your neck with a quick movement of his hands. His tawny coat shined in the moonlight. His brown eyes watched you, expectantly.

You were about to get on your knees and beg for mercy.

You saw a group of people lingering beside the werewolf. You remembered them. They were a part of Yuta’s pack.

“Yuta?” You finally connected the dots and realized the wolf who scratched you was Yuta. You hadn’t seen him since that first time.

He had been a werewolf, after all. But why had he transformed? Why was he here? Why had he done this to you?

You winced slightly at the scrapes and monitored them as they quickly vanished. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

Yuta’s fur vanished as he transformed back into his human self. He was shirtless but his pair of jeans remained on. “Y/n, I wanted to confirm something…”

You frowned. “What?”

“The scratch of the alpha is borderline lethal to any outsider of the pack...So any pack member or...descendant of that pack member can heal from his bite…”

You laughed nervously, confused. You wanted to get the hell out of here. Where the bloody hell was your Uber? “Uh...That’s interesting, I guess.”

“Can’t you see, y/n? I’m the alpha of the Nakamoto clan. You’ve healed from my scratches...Which means…”

You demanded, “What does it mean?”  

“It means you are a descendant of this clan, y/n…”

You shook your head. “No...That’s...Impossible. I’m not a werewolf…”

“You were adopted at five months, y/n...Your parents perished in a war against the vampires...Your parents led normal lives as humans for as long as they could...Much to the disappointment of my father.”

“Yuta, you don’t know what you’re saying…”

“I do, y/n. The pack and I have uncovered everything about you and your family history. You’re a werewolf. An unawakened one.”

“No…”

“Explain how your bite healed. The only way you could enter Sinema of your own accord is if you possessed supernatural blood. And werewolf blood is as supernatural as it gets.”

“Yuta, please, you’ve got the wrong person...I don’t know why you bit me and why it healed. Maybe it’s some magic trick you pulled off to please your pack...I’ve had a shitty night so if you don’t mind, I’d like to go home,” you said, checking your phone for the arrival of your Uber. It was arriving.

“Y/n!”

The Uber pulled up and you turned to him. “Just leave me alone.”

___

You visited your parents the next day. You asked them about where they’d adopted you from. They’d always been very mum about the details.

“Someone told me something crazy the other day,” you said to them as the three of you shared dinner with your adopted younger siblings.

Your parents both looked at each other, concerned.

“He said my biological parents were werewolves!” You laughed in disbelief. “How crazy is that?”

Your parents eyed each other again.

Your mom started, “Who is this man?”

“Mom, I believe the proper response is ‘That man is crazy. Where did he get that kind of story?’”

You knew your parents were hiding something and you wanted to hear the truth from them.

Your father scratched his neck as he took off his glasses. Your younger siblings all eyed each other uncomfortably.

“Why aren’t you guys saying anything?” You asked.

Your dad said, “Y/n...We hoped for you to never find out.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Dad, you’re scaring me...Find out what?”

Your parents went on to tell you about the incidents you had when you turned eleven. After you’d had your first period, you began to experience terrible mood swings and throw tantrums left and right around the time the full moon occurred. And when you turned thirteen and the first full moon following your birthday occurred…

You’d attacked a neighbor who was walking their dog.

You’d grown teeth and hair all over your body that night. You’d become a wolf, according to your parents.

Once the night had ended, you’d transformed into a human again and fallen asleep.

Your neighbors never knew that it had been you. Your parents helped your attacked neighbor get to a hospital and they reported an animal attack in the neighborhood. Your neighbor couldn’t remember anything.

But her dog never forgot and hated you.

Your parents got a hold of the adoption agency and they had no information on your birth parents besides their names. Your parents then got in touch with a psychic, who referred them to a witch. They took you to the witch and she told them you were an unawakened werewolf. You were a fledgling. Unless you received the bite of an alpha werewolf and acquired your position in the pack, you were susceptible to these monthly full moon transformations and since you hadn’t been awakened, it would be even worse and dangerous for those around you. So the witch concocted a potion that would suppress your fledgling urges but it was critical that you consumed it each month.

Which explained why your parents were always so adamant for you to come home every month for dinner. They put the potion in your dinner. So you were able to suppress your urges up until this point.

Could this be the reason why you felt so unfulfilled? Because you never explored your true nature? Your parents never gave you the choice to control it.

Your parents had good intentions but you had the option to meet the pack all of these years...And you never knew.

You’d always felt like a part of you had been missing and your trip to Sinema had done the trick to lead you to the truth.

___

Back in your dorm and without having ingested the potion your parents had given, you’d only had a few days until the full moon. You were resolved to speak to Yuta.

You’d gotten out of the shower, letting out a shaky breath from all of the bundled up nerves you carried. You were shocked to find Taeil standing in your common room that you shared with your roommates. They were all away for the day.

“Taeil!” You started as you covered your towel more tightly around you.

“I heard,” Taeil started, worry etched all over his face, “If I could kill Yuta, I would…”

“Taeil, I’m going to him,” you started.

“What?” He asked.

“I’m going to be awakened by him.”

He looked at you in disbelief. “Y/n, what are you-”

“I’m an unawakened werewolf, Taeil. My biological parents were werewolves and if I don’t receive the official bite of the alpha, I’m going to suffer by the influence of the full moon.”

“Y/n, the full moon is in two weeks!”

“I know…” You said.

Taeil sighed. “Y/n, you have a chance to be away from the supernatural world. To avoid the dangers of these creatures. I know humans are terrible, deceitful, and cruel...But the supernatural doesn’t fare better. You didn’t grow up in this world. It could consume you and spit you right back out…”

You were resolved, though. You longed to explore more of the world and to embrace the part of you that had always been neglected. “Taeil, I’ve made my decision. My family has respected it. And I hope you will, too.”

A tear escaped Taeil’s eye. “Y/n, I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t left you alone…”

You shook your head as you wished to embrace him. “Taeil, this isn’t on you. This opened my eyes. My path is more defined now...Who knows what awaits me once I awaken? That’s for me to find out.”

Taeil extended his hand out and pretended to caress your face. “There’s nothing I can say to make you change your mind, is there?”

“No,” you said, as you leaned closer to his transparent hand.

He smiled weakly. “Y/n, I’ve thought a lot about it and you were right...I’ve given up on visiting Lexa.”

You opened your mouth wide. “Really?”

Taeil avoided your stare as he stared at the potted plant by the window. “I...wanted to stay longer but...we’re both meant to part ways...And I’m not happy...Terrorizing Lexa hasn’t given me any sense of fulfillment. Temporary pleasure? Yes...But I long to find that peace.”

You cried. “Taeil, I’m so happy to hear that. And you will find that peace, I promise you.”

“In the meantime, I’ll be by your side as you head into your next chapter.”

You smiled at him and didn’t realize your towel slipped to the floor.

“Y/n…” Taeil coughed as he quickly turned red and turned around.

“What?” You frowned.

Without looking at you, he pointed to the towel on the floor.

“Shit!” You exclaimed. But then, you watched Taeil...He was blushing…

“Did it hurt that much to look at my body, Taeil?” You asked, quietly.

“What?” He asked, confused.

“It’s okay...You can look…”

Taeil turned and was shocked to see you still unclothed.

You gave him a flirty smile. “I know we can’t touch...But it doesn’t mean we can’t have fun, right?”

You got onto your bed and slowly began to tease your clit and Taeil’s jaw nearly fell to the floor. He adored every inch of you as he scanned your body and worked his hardest to commit it all to memory.

You could see his member grow in his pants. He immediately gripped his gorgeous length and pleasured himself alongside you.

“I wish I could feel your heavenly cock on my clit…” You told him.

He grunted. “Heaven can wait...This is real paradise...Here with you.”

You muttered sweet nothings to each other and imagined that you made love to each other that day.

___

You and Taeil were more inseparable than before. Because you knew your days together were numbered.

The full moon arrived and Yuta had agreed that this was the ideal time for your initiation into his pack. You would be able to absorb the moon’s power as you transformed from Yuta’s bite.

Yuta invited you to his mansion in the woods not too far outside of town. His pack members were present and they’d arranged a massive bonfire at the center in honor of your awakening.

Taeil was right beside you, much to the chagrin of the rest of the pack members. But what could they do? Drag him out? When they couldn’t even lay a finger on him?

Yuta was dressed in his best tuxedo as he recited the pack’s code of conduct to you and welcomed you into their pack. He transformed into his wolf form and at the brightest the full moon had been, you’d taken on your fledgling form. You howled at the moon and became rabid. Yuta knew what he had to do.

Taeil watched you in concern but Yuta had sworn to protect you. For you would be one of his family soon enough. So Taeil had no choice but to trust him.

Yuta bit into your collarbone and your eyes shifted from their usual color and into a bright amber. You felt yourself regain consciousness and became aware of where you were.

“Y/n, do you know who I am?” Yuta asked.

You nodded.

Yuta continued, “Good. You are now a fully awakened werewolf. Harness your abilities with honor and know that you have a family in the Nakamoto clan forever.”

“Hear hear!” The pack members yelled out.

You’d reverted back into your human form through your own accord. You were shocked at how quickly you could turn back.

You ran over to Taeil and he beamed at you. “How do you feel?”

“I feel...whole...Fulfilled...I have no idea what will happen next but it’s a new kind of uncertainty...And I like it.”

Taeil said, “I’m glad, y/n…”

He started to pixelate before you and his voice began to fade.

Your smile faded. “Taeil?”

“I think God wanted me to stick around for this momentous occasion...Before he summoned me…”

You couldn’t help the tears that escaped you. “Taeil, I love you.”

He cried with you. “I love you, too. I will see you up there...Soon. I’d better be the first person you look up when you ascend, you hear me?”

You wrapped your arms around him and to your shock. To everyone’s shock at the party...You could feel Taeil. He was muscular and the warmth of his body was like the fuzziest blanket wrapped around you after the worst day. He felt wonderful. And you never wanted to let him go.

Taeil longed for the day he could feel your body around his...And it was only at this time when you two had to bid farewell when he could feel you against him. You were strong but at that moment, he held you tenderly. Like you would break at any second. Because this moment was the most fragile. It was fleeting. So you both soaked in the feeling of each other’s bodies as you held each other.

Taeil kissed you and you reciprocated. His lips felt just like you’d imagined them. Soft. Perfect against yours. His kiss was the euphoria you would treasure for the rest of your life.

You released each other.

“Goodbye, Moon,” you teased. You made a play at his last name. Since you were a werewolf now, you’d be highly influenced by the activity of the moon.

He joked back. “Goodbye, Wolfie. Don’t forget to howl at me once in a while. It’s kinda hot...” The cliche of werewolves howling at the moon was actually a common practice for them.

You shook your head and laughed as he faded away. You cried hard that night, missing him already.

Yuta and his pack comforted you as you cried. They celebrated you and they mourned with you. This pack had become your family.

___

Taeil finally ascended to Heaven. It was a lot like Earth but idealistic. Paradise had everything at his disposal. He could go to the movies and have an unlimited supply of Sour Patch Bats. He finally knew what they tasted like. He could get a foot massage whenever he felt like it. He could play his music and sing to his heart’s content. God was a big fan of Moon Taeil. 

But the thing he loved most was being able to look after the loved ones he left behind.

Now that Taeil had become an angel, he would accumulate power overtime in order to send blessings to the people he loved most.

Especially to you.

____

You’d gotten a better grip on your powers but you were still a long way from being Yuta’s right hand. You’d moved into one of Yuta’s apartment complexes that he owned. You were finishing up your last year of school, as well. Since you’d stabilized your powers, you could carry on with your day-to-day activities. It’s just nighttime that would be unaccounted for.

One day, Yuta visited you.

You greeted him as you welcomed him inside your spacious apartment. He sat down on your L-shaped couch in your living room as you gave him a glass of water. “To what do I owe the pleasure, boss?”

Yuta never visited his pack member’s homes unless it was important business. Usually, he summoned them to a common area, like one of his mansions in the city.

Yuta smiled. “I see you like your new place.”

You nodded. “It beats hearing my roommates screw their boyfriends every other night, I must admit.”

He laughed. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

“What’s up? You’re not usually one for small talk...Unless you want to sleep with them...And that girl isn’t here at the moment.” You knew about Yuta’s tumultuous relationship with Sinema’s manager.

Yuta blushed then. “You...Knock it off.”

You laughed heartily, then. You two had developed an older brother little sister relationship. Yuta was able to uncover more information about your parents and your extended family. He’d been extremely helpful during this time, providing financial support not only to you but your entire family.

When Yuta said the pack was a family, he really meant it.

Yuta was mulling over his next words and he gave you a solemn look. The light, breezy mood had quickly vanished.

The power the alpha held to control the room.

He said, “Y/n, prepare your things. The war is about to begin.”

[Fin...Or is it?]

Stay tuned for the next spooky story...

[mattzerella-sticks]

Before the Night Ends

Dean/Castiel, 2.1k words, post-Wedding/pre-Honeymoon

ao3

It's been a wedding for the ages. Dean and Castiel finally tied the knot, with guests flying in from all across America, Heaven, Hell - even the Empty. But everything must come to an end, and after a wonderful Roadhouse reception Dean and Cas drove off in Baby and off towards their honeymoon.

Except, it's a long drive from Kansas plains to California beaches. They stop close to midnight at a motel along the highway, to sleep, celebrate their wedding night and that it's Valentine's Day, too.

           There’s a motel off Highway 70 called Angel’s Paradise, first established in the early 1900s, and last renovated in 1982. The owners back then, who remain so today, envisioned heaven as some tropical destination. That meant each room, alike in their simplicity and functionality, would be redone along these guidelines. Walls plastered with paper-print palm fronds and blooming, pink flowers. Bathrooms tiled a light blue – like waters from the clearest ocean – and little soaps shaped like shells to match the shell-patterned shower curtain. They’d have an entertainment unit housing a small television set would double as a dust collector, various ocean-themed knick-knacks cluttered atop it, ranging from homemade to store bought. A wicker table situated between two wicker chairs, a wicker dresser placed next to the entertainment unit and a wicker bed-or-beds layered by their own palm fronds, matching the walls. Finally, tying the décor together was a little (wicker) side table near the door with a plastic conch set to catch keys or loose change or cigarette ash. Given these changes, any customer might imagine they were in Florida rather then Colorado, or it was June instead of February. Especially in the crown jewel of Angel’s Paradise, the Honeymoon Suite.

           Except the Suite’s current boarders were very aware of where and when they are. Probably because they have yet to see their room for the night.

           Dean tucks his hands into his elbows, shivering outside the Suite while Cas fiddles with its doorknob. “Come on,” he whines, “what’s the hold-up?”

           Cas pauses, turning to Dean. “Sorry,” he says, “the lady at the counter – she said they were having issues since the last occupants. Something about them breaking the lock?”

           “Fuckin’ a…” Dean hisses, bouncing now. An icy wind cuts across the parking lot, Dean defenseless to it because he forwent a heavier jacket and how thin the material of his suit was. Castiel looks marginally warmer than Dean, wrapped in his trademark trench coat. Still, Dean notices how his hands tremble while holding the key. Cas’s hand flicks to the left, Dean’s gaze catching the silver band wrapped around his ring finger. One day, he may get used to it. Dean hopes he never does and can experience the same flutter of warmth rippling through his heart from seeing it. He leans into Cas, Dean dropping his head onto Cas’s shoulder. “Who do I have to pray to for this door to open?”

           “No one,” Cas declares, lock clicking in time with his words, “because it’s open!”

           Dean curses under breath, smiling. “Great,” he says, “let’s get in there, then – hey… hey!”

           Swept off his feet, Dean falls into the loving grip of his husband. Cas places one arm at his back, supporting most of the weight, while the other arm traps Dean’s knees, keeping his legs bent and Dean unable to wriggle himself free. Cas smiles down at him, laughing.

           “You think this is so funny,” Dean scowls, holding onto Cas’s tie like it were a lifeline. “You little shit –“

           “Mr. Shit, Dean,” Cas interrupts, kicking the door open and striding past the threshold, “I did take your last name, after all.”

           “My mistake…” He huffs, burying his head in Cas’s chest while he uses the fingers not squeezing Cas’s tie to comb the hairs at his husband’s neck. “Dean and Castiel Shit… I can see the monogramed towels already.” Dean closes his eyes, purring like a kitten while he absorbs the heat that radiates from Cas. It’s inhuman how much of a furnace he was, especially after giving up his grace to live as a human, to be human with Dean. Like always, Dean’s smile widens at the thought. He tries hiding his rapidly flushing face, but Cas tears Dean off of him. He ungraciously dumps Dean onto the bed, blue eyes betraying his cool demeanor as they glow with mirth from Dean’s startled squawking. “What do you think you’re doing?”

           “Going to get the bags,” he says, moving towards the door, “Why don’t you get comfortable, I’ll only be a moment.”

           Dean shakes his head, situating himself better on the bed. He sits at the foot of it, toeing off his snakeskin boots and then peeling off the dark grey dress socks he wore with them. While pulling at his tie, Cas returns with their bags. He doesn’t close the door after, and a blustery chill fills the space. Goosepimples erupt in scattered bunches up and down Dean’s arms. “Close the door!” he yells, dumping the tie onto the slowly growing pile of discarded clothing. His suit jacket joins his tie and socks and boots as Cas deposits their bags by the television. He then hits the door with his elbow, shutting out the wind. Cas gestures at the closed door with a flourish and wry grin. Dean scoffs, “Ugh, who’s bright idea was it to do this in winter?”

           “The same man who, on his birthday, said,” Cas drifts closer, helping Dean unbutton his shirt, “and I quote, ‘If you think you can propose to me and not expect us to get married as soon as possible, then you don’t know what you’re signing up for… buddy’.” Cas eases the shirt off Dean’s shoulders, kissing the exposed skin right above his t-shirt. “For the record,” Cas adds, whispering into his collarbone, “I expected it. It was one of the reasons why I couldn’t wait any longer.”

           Dean remembers. Their family, together, celebrating Dean’s birthday. His first birthday free from Chuck’s machinations, with a cake Jack spent all day baking and presents that lined the end of the table. He held Cas’s hand as he blew out the candles, mind blank because nothing he could wish for would match the happiness he felt in that moment. He tells Cas this after he asks what he wished for. And Cas, of course, proceeds to kiss him. Cas kisses him while Eileen cut the cake, while Jack helped plate them, and while Sam clapped Dean’s shoulders in warning to reign it in. Dean pulled back, gasping, unsure how he might respond to his then-boyfriend’s passion. Then Cas asked him that all-important, heart-stopping, mind-blowing question, opened a velvet box, and Dean knew exactly what to say.

           “I would’ve waited,” Dean reveals, helping Cas with his clothes as Cas guides Dean’s legs out of his slacks. “Everyone knows how long I’ve waited to tell you I love you… I would’ve waited, even if we died and we had to get married in heaven.” Dean pecks Cas’s lips, divesting him of both jackets and his button-down shirt. “I’m glad we didn’t have to, though.”

           “So am I.”

           They stand together in t-shirts and boxers, barely an inch of space between them. No one speaks, not that they have to, but the usually comfortable silence makes Dean nervous. His focus drifts from Cas and onto the plastic conch behind him. Then, he notices how the rest of the room is decorated. Dean giggles, “Wow… it’s, this place is…”

           Cas nods. Dean needn’t say anything else. “You should’ve seen the inside,” he snickers, “the staff were wearing Hawaiian shirts and shark-tooth necklaces.”

           “Hey,” Dean shoves him, “don’t diss Hawaiian shirts.” He collects his clothes and boots, bringing them over to their duffels. “I’ve got about three packed away in here, and I’m planning on buying at least a few more before our honeymoon ends.”

           “Should they even be called Hawaiian shirts if we’re not in Hawaii?” Cas asks. Dean hears the mattress squeak, and guesses his husband sat on the bed. He digs through the duffel, Cas monologuing in the background. “Are they called Coloradan shirts since we’re in Colorado? If we buy them in California, won’t they be Californian Shirts? Or is it because they’re made in Hawaii, and then shipped elsewhere? Can you imagine it – shirt factories, dotting the beaches? Oh, I’d hope the workers making all these Hawaiian shirts are at least being paid a fair wage, given how popular they seem to be…”

           “There’s no factories on any beaches,” Dean tells him, “and – hate to burst your bubble, angel – but I doubt Hawaiian shirt makers are paid what they deserve, regardless of where their factories are.” Cas hums in that same, sullen note he usually does when the beginning notes of Sarah McLachlan play and Dean can’t switch channels fast enough. He folds his clothes, setting them aside. Then, Dean sneaks his hand into his stack of clean boxers, finding the surprise he hid for his husband. “Hey,” Dean rises, “capitalism sucks, but we can’t let it ruin our trip.” Dean drops onto Cas’s lap, delighting in the tiny ‘oof’ that escapes from his husband. “Here,” he says, “I was saving this for later… but hell, we’re running out of time. I’d rather give it to you before the night ends than a day later.” Dean hands him an envelope, Cas’s name scrawled on the front. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

           “A card?” Cas asks, flipping the envelope back and forth, “Dean… you didn’t have to get me anything.”

           “’Course I did…” Dean presses a kiss to Cas’s temple, ruffling his hair. “It’s Valentine’s Day… probably the first Valentine’s Day I actually wanted to celebrate in a long time, because I’ve got someone I love and want to celebrate. And sure, it’s not like we didn’t do just that… in front of all our friends and families… and a few exes… and uninvited guests –“

           “The point, Dean?”

           “Sorry,” Dean lays his head atop Cas’s, watching him peel away the envelope’s glue. “We’ll have tons more holidays and anniversaries to celebrate in the future… I just didn’t want our first Valentine’s Day to be overshadowed by our wedding. You mean so much to me that I’m not gonna just lump the two together like you’re some kid who was unlucky enough to be born on Christmas. You deserve it all.” Cas flips the envelope, shaking its contents free. A pair of red panties floats onto his outstretched hand. “Not just some stinkin’ card.”

           Cas squeezes the panties. “Are you –?”

           “About to show you how friggin’ fantastic married sex is?” Dean wrangles the panties from Cas’s fist, waving it about like a flag. “You bet. Let me slip these on and…“ He starts towards the bathroom, Cas slowly chasing him.

           “You don’t have to,” his husband growls, “you can change here –“

           “Cas, I won’t be long –“

           “I don’t know if I can wait!”

           “You’ll have to!” Dean closes the door on Cas’s face, laughing as he hears his husband bang against the door in protest. He yells for Dean, but Dean ignores him. Dean brings his hand to his face, covering his mouth with both it and the panties he carries. They smell like cherries. He forgot to tell Cas they’re edible. Cas will figure that out later.

           He’ll also give Cas his real card later, as well. The one he wrote using all the words Dean was too afraid to say at the altar. Little details about the way Cas hogs all the blankets when he sleeps, and how his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and that Cas’s hugs chase away dark thoughts better than any drink might’ve. There were also bigger things he mentioned, in this card. About Cas and his unwavering faith in Dean, even at times where he didn’t deserve it. About the despair that bloomed whenever Cas left his side, a bouquet of horrid, wilted roses growing rampantly over his heart and piercing it with their thorns during those awful times it seemed their last goodbye truly was. About the love Cas inspired within Dean that changed his life, from the very beginning, from the touch of Cas’s hand on his shoulder. That simple act which broke him free from Chuck’s wheel again and again and again. Dean couldn’t say any of this in a crowded room. He doubts he can with only Cas. He already cried enough for one day. So, they’ll have sex instead. After they’ve burned through the remaining fumes that linger in their tanks, Dean will present the card, curl against Cas’s side with his head tucked underneath his husband’s chin, and listen while Cas reads how much he means to Cas.

           But that won’t be until later. Now, Dean shimmies out of his boxers. He pulls the panties on, flicking the bow twice once it’s settled. “Are you ready?” Dean croons, jiggling the knob, “because it’s time to ride ‘em, cowboy!”

           Cas pries the door loose, almost ripping it off its hinges as pull Dean forward into a searing kiss. Dean smiles into it, letting Cas take lead. Dean’s gift were the panties. Cas’s gift is putting in the work to get them off. Cas throws Dean onto the bed, his mouth attacking Dean’s neck. His hand trails down Dean’s side, tickling and teasing him.

           He couldn’t have written a better ending to his story. Or imagine a better beginning to his next.

[kitkat1003]

The Dawn is Breaking, and I am Crumbling

Yakko is awake.  His siblings awaken, too.  Through the thin veneer of calm that is fueled by the near 70 years of acting experience they have, they keep it together enough to meet the new CEO after filming.

She’s not what they’re expecting.

This is Chapter 2 to this fic.  Please read the first chapter.

@asilcorner

Yakko lets his face drop, just for a moment, when Spielberg turns away to mess with the controls and let his brother and sister out of the suspended animation tubes.

The whole room looks far too futuristic for only 22 years, Yakko thinks.  The eerie glow from the tubes, a light blue, paints and eerie vibe about the metal interior.  He can see the shadows in the corners of the room.

Wakko and Dot, at least, look healthy.  As much as the redesign weirded him out, change of art style and all, he has to admit they kept the general feeling of their characters.  Dot still has her flower and dress, Wakko still has his sweater and cap.  The studio kept them relatively the same, though Yakko can’t help but play with the bit of hair sticking up between his ears, unused to it.  He feels the lines are a bit sharper.  Maybe this is how modern animation looks like?

The liquid starts to drain, and the polite grin is back on Yakko’s face by the time Spielberg turns around, even though his hands are shaking behind his back and he’s terrified by how this is going to turn out.

Dot’s tube opens first, and she’s picked up by metal arms and set down on the ground, and Yakko is at her side before he registers moving.  She doesn’t look lucid yet, eyes open but unseeing, but she blinks a few times and he sees the spark of recognition soon enough.

“Yakko?” Her voice is so small.

“Hey,” he smiles at her, even though it’s a bit pained, and he hugs her close.  She clings to him and shakes, but the sound of Wakko’s pod opening breaks them apart, because Yakko turns to see his little brother.

Wakko starts to cry the moment he becomes conscious, and Yakko rushes to his side because he understands, but they don’t have time to cry right now.  

Not with executives watching.  Not with the situation they’re in.

“Hey, hey, hey, bud, don’t cry, it’s okay,” Dot is right behind him, clutching him by the tail as if its a leash.  Only his siblings are supposed to be allowed to grab his tail like that, and Yakko clearly remembers that night, when the men in the task force grabbed him by it and yanked hard enough to bruise.  He shivers in memory.  Wakko sniffles, as Yakko wipes his tears.

“We’re getting a reboot,” He says, loud enough for Spielberg to hear.  Dot and Wakko glance at the man, who gives them a thumbs up.  They wave back.

“We have to put on a brave face,” Yakko then whispers.  “They don’t expect us to be sad.  It’s just like acting, okay?  Just for a day, and once we’re back alone in the tower, you can let it out,” he hates that he has to tell them this, that he has to ask they hide it away.  He wants nothing more than to let them rage and cry and scream, because they have every right to want to.

But, because they did this in 1993, when all Yakko wanted to do was ruin Plotz, when all they wanted to do was feel the sun on their fur and play without contracts or cartoons, because they sucked it up and signed contracts and did the work then, they can do it now.

They all take a deep breath.  Wakko rubs the tears out of his eyes.

They stand in a row, familiar grins on their faces.

“I think it’s time for Animaniacs, don’t you?” Yakko tells Spielberg, and he is both relieved and annoyed by the way Spielberg smiles and nods.

“You bet it is!” Dot agrees, and Wakko nods his head, tongue flopping about comically.

They play their roles well, don’t they?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first episode goes well.  Yakko helps move things along with the songs, all ad-libbed.  The new CEO is a curveball, and when she looks at him he can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up.  There’s something off about her, something he can’t quite put his finger on, that makes her dangerous.  He internally panics at how casual Wakko and Dot are around her.  Maybe it’s just him?

In the break between the second half of their debut, where Pinky and the Brain’s return plays, she tells him that she wants a meeting with the three of them once they’ve looked over their contracts.

Yakko swallows the instinct to run and nods in reply.

They also, during the break between the two segments of their return, meet up with the grim reaper, who holds out their joint contract.

“Anything to keep us away from you, huh Daddoo?” He grins up at the reaper, and said personification of death cringes away from them.

“Yes-now read it over and sign it already,” The accent from this guy never gets old.  Yakko snatches the document from boney fingers, reading it over.  It doesn’t seem any different.  A higher paycut, actually, which is nice.  He supposes already being a celebrity helps with that.  The finale clause, though, that bothers him

Upon the end of the Reboot, the Warners will become property of Death.

“Yeah, no,” he points to the clause.  “I don’t think you actually want us, and I’m pretty sure making people property has been illegal for a while now,” Death seems surprised by the clause, himself.  He glances at it, and then his eyes dart towards the CEO’s office.  Yakko’s eyes narrow.

“Of course,” Yakko watches him revise it, the reaper mumbling under his breath about That crafty woman, and once that’s been taken out he lets Wakko and Dot sign it with him.

“Your As still look like 2s,” Yakko whispers conspiratorially to Wakko, and he giggles.

Back to the show.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The office building is quiet when they go in to meet with the new CEO.  He doesn’t actually know her name.  Nora?  Norita?  He doesn’t remember her introducing herself, so maybe that’s just for the mysterious factor.

“Leave the talking to me this time, sibs,” he whispers to them as the elevator dings to their floor.  They must hear something in his voice, because they don’t argue.

The CEO is at her desk when they arrive, scrolling through her tablet while nodding along to a call she’s in.  Her eyes dart sharply to the Warners, and Yakko pushes his sibs behind him.

“Mhmm, yes, that’s very interesting.  Please hold,” She tells the person on the line, setting her tablet down and pressing a button on her earpiece.  She takes it out and sets it down on the desk, standing up.  Her heels make her loom, ever taller, over them, and her eyes are dark.

“Now, I know of your history.  Plotz spoke of you extensively, and I had an assistant watch your previous show incarnation several times.  I know how you work, your strengths and weaknesses, and your fears,” She regards them coolly, and Yakko stands tall, despite the ever mounting panic.

“You were brought back because Spielberg wanted you, and keeping him ingratiated to the studio is more profitable than the property damage you cause with your antics,” Every sentence is said with calculated precision.  Every sentence is pointed, like the end of a knife

Yakko isn’t that aggressive, but Dot certainly is.  He can feel her getting angry.  Even Wakko, the calmest of the three when it comes to dealing with things, is becoming annoyed with the CEO’s attitude.  That’s dangerous.  He grips their hands in his tight, squeezing to remind them that they have to be quiet.

“You three, of course, will bring us money, but you’re also expensive to keep around.  The nightmare that will be the publicity scandal should you come out with what happened to you these past 22 years would be...difficult to handle.  So, I think it’s in your best interests to keep quiet,” She crosses her arms over her chest awaiting the challenge.

Yakko can see it, so he doesn't react.  His siblings, on the other hand, don't quite understand the position they’re in.

“Like Hell we’ll keep quiet!” Dot jumps out in front of Yakko before he can stop her, stomping over to the CEO with a glare and a sharp toothed scowl on her face.  “I’ll make sure the whole world knows about what you did to us!”

“Yeah!” Wakko runs over, mallet in hand.  “What are you gonna do if we blab, huh?”

She’s got them lifted in the air by their tails before they can blink, gripping them tightly.  Yakko jumps, staring at her with wide eyes, and Dot and Wakko are frozen in shock for a moment, before they start trying to escape.  Dot is shouting obscenities.  Wakko keeps trying to hit her with his mallet, but it isn't long enough.  She holds them far enough away from her body that they can't reach her.

Yakko is frozen.  This is the worst case scenario.

“None of your episodes have aired yet,” She reminds them.  “I could halt production here.  Spielberg is important, but we could smooth things over with him with the right words.  He’s terribly sentimental.  And while the fans would be upset about this reboot’s cancellation, we could cite many things that would have the Warner Bros. studio come out as if we were doing what was best for the show,” She glances between the two younger toons, and then to Yakko.

“And your next ending won’t be as peaceful.  We have Dip, here, and we aren’t afraid to use it.  That’s how we get rid of new toons that don't meet our standards, after all,” She grins, then, and Yakko freezes.

They use Dip casually?  Here?  That-that’s murder.  And they’ll do that to baby toons, ones who haven’t even gotten their footing in this world.  Yakko thinks he’s going to be sick.

“So, you have one option.  Comply,” She shakes Wakko and Dot in her grip, stunning them out of their scrambling to escape.  “I’ve made things efficient here, and I won’t have that changed by toons whose character sheets should have been burned in the 1930s,” Wakko and Dot flinch, and Yakko clenches his fists.

“Now,” She takes a breath, “Are you going to quit wasting my time?  Because I have about ten calls waiting that are more important than you three,” She smiles at Yakko, and it’s one that makes him shiver again.  

“Well?  Don’t try for bravado.  I know you’re nothing without your words.”

And Yakko hates that, and he’s terrified, but she’s got his siblings held tight in her arms, by their tails, and she’s threatening them with murder, and it’s all too reminiscent to that night, where he let his siblings down.

Not again.

He pounces, teeth bared, and digs them into her shoulder, knocking her to the ground.  His teeth breaks through her nice suit coat and shirt and through skin, and she drops his sibs and kicks him with her sharp heel, knocking him back. He rolls across the floor before standing, spitting out fabric and the taste of her, wiping his mouth.  He’s trembling.  Wakko and Dot look shocked.  

He’s never done that before.

“Here’s something you don’t know,” he spits, as she stands, incensed.  “No one’s threatened us with Dip before.  So, maybe I’m not as useless without my words as you think,” She narrows her eyes, and regards him with...something indiscernible.

“You don’t touch them,” he growls it out.  They aren’t fully animals and they aren’t fully human, so they’ve got the sharp canines that put a household dog to shame and enough cognizance to know when to use them.

“You got a problem with us, you leave them out of it.  This is just you and me, got it?” He bares his teeth, a reminder of what he can do.  The smell of blood makes him want to throw up, and that’s with him trying not to register the taste.

“Yakko,” Dot tries, but Wakko shushes her.  It’s a standoff, and Yakko is more terrified than brave but he doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe, just lets the blood drip from his teeth as she holds a hand to her bleeding shoulder.

“This meeting is over,” The CEO says, finally.  “I trust you can see yourselves out.”

It’s not a concession, but it is something different than the high and mighty attitude she had before.  Maybe she’s realizing that all Yakko has to lose is them, his siblings, and that means that death means nothing to him.

Hard to beat someone who’s not so easily manipulated by fame and fortune or threats, is it?

The walk back to the tower is silent.  Dot holds his hand, leaning against him, and Wakko clutches his pant leg.  They both seem to still be in a state of disbelief.

“They have Dip now,” Dot whispers, incredulous, horrified.

“They aren’t gonna play anymore,” Wakko agrees, with the same amount of horror.  He’s shaking.

Yakko holds them tight, as best he can, and they go home.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first thing he does when they get to the water tower is direct Wakko to the kitchen and Dot to her dressing room area.

“Eat and get ready for bed,” He says, weary and exhausted.  Wakko’s blood sugar levels need to steady out, and Dot needs something to keep her mind off of what happened.  Directing them to something that they can lose themselves in the motions of is easy.  He knows them too well.

They don’t protest, nodding.

He goes to the sink and gargles water, over and over, until he stops spitting out pink.  He brushes his teeth six times.  Scrubs his tongue raw.  Washes his face.  Doesn’t look at himself in the mirror until he’s sure he won’t see that dark red anywhere.

He doesn’t regret his actions, but he certainly isn’t proud of them.  

When he comes out of the bathroom, their bunk bed has been made a large king size one, and Wakko and Dot are waiting for him.  He quickly slips into some pajama pants and heads over to them, getting in the middle so they can snuggle up against him.

“Yakko?” Dot starts, and he can feel the fire in the back of her throat.  “Don’t-Don’t you ever say that.  That people can do bad stuff to you, if they keep us safe.  You did it before and you did it now and I can’t-we’re a team.  We don’t sacrifice each other-we can’t-you can’t do that to us,” Ever word is pushed out, like she has trouble knowing that she has to say it.  

“You’re everything to us too,” She finally says, halfway to tears, and Yakko can’t swallow the lump in his throat to reply.

“Stay,” Wakko pleads.  “You can’t give yourself up for us.  You have to stay,” A man of few words, and yet they strike Yakko right in the chest, as he holds them tight.

He rubs their backs until they’re almost asleep, staring at the glow in the dark star stickers on the ceiling.

“I’ll try,” he mumbles, and it’s not as much of a promise as it is a hope, but they’re too close to sleep to try arguing.

When he finally drifts off, he doesn’t dream at all.

[subarubi]

The List

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Everyone’s got a submission to his list. Watch this. Read that. Go there. But you’ve never given him anything. Not a single idea of what it is you like, what makes you feel at home in this world. Never made an effort to bridge the gap between the 40s and now, and yourself and him. And it oddly bothers him.

Word Count: 3.6 k

A/N: this is my very first reader insert i’ve written and am posting, so i’m excited :) appreciate anyone who takes the time to read!

Everyone’s got a submission to his list. 

Watch this. Read that. Eat here. Go there. I Love Lucy. Moon Landing. Berlin Wall. Steve Jobs. Disco. Thai food. Star Wars. Nirvana. Rocky. Troubleman Soundtrack. Things he absolutely must do if he wants to call himself a modern man. Which, he does. But kind of doesn’t? Doesn’t even matter much now anyway.

You don’t.

Have a submission to his list, that is.

You’ve never been talkative anyway, he reasons. You’re quiet, reserved, and a bit of an outsider in this haphazardly thrown together group of extraordinary people. 

Not that you’re ordinary, not in the slightest. You’re a comet. Your power, palpable. A volatile missile, ice and dust carving a hole through space. Nucleus, hard body amalgamation of granite muscle and tungsten bones. Tail, a whipping flurry of wild hair, muted decimation in its wake. No, you are far from ordinary.

You just... stick to the walls.

With arms-- arms he’s seen bring men to their knees-- crossed over your chest, face set in marble. Not unfriendly. You’ll talk nice when prompted, smile when appropriate, but you never initiate. 

You seem to prefer a distance, a line between work life and personal life. A line that just doesn’t exist with the Avengers. Somehow, though, you manage to maintain the separation. Natasha’s prying questions, Stark’s intentional invasions of your personal space, Sam’s harmless but persistent flirting. 

It’s all so easily deflected. 

Made even easier now that the family you’d always resisted has been fractured. 

You don’t care to foster intimate relationships with any of these people. And you definitely don’t care to put in a submission to Captain America’s To-Do List. 

Everyone, everyone has something to add to his list. Even Bucky, Bucky, who has spent the better part of 70 years in and out of cryo, brain pulled apart and replaced with a new, foreign synapse each time, said something about a movie he’d seen somewhere. 

It bothers him. It shouldn’t, but it does. 

Steve can physically feel it--  that’s how much it bothers him. A now permanent path of his eyes to your form in a room. An itch in his fingers for a pen and paper anytime you say anything. A burn on the tops of his ears, hot and red, if you smile softly at some reference he doesn’t understand. Is that a signal? Would that be a suggestion if you actually talked to him?

Regardless, he trusts you. A boundless amount. Unexplainable given just how little the two of you have actually spoken.

You don’t make suggestions for the list, and it only really bothers him because he does trust you. He wants to know what you have to say, what you think is important for him to experience. What you like. If, perhaps, what makes you feel at home in this world could help him too. 

It’s a Thursday and he’s thumbing the pages of his notebook when Natasha gets the idea. 

The quinjet cabin is filled with a heavy, pregnant silence that no one can bear to cut through. Full-term. Unbearable pressure on the sciatic nerve-type silence. 9 months discomfort and anxiety, stifling their words. 

A mission gone right, but leaving a bad taste in their mouths. 

Bucky sits near the front, aimlessly bouncing a tennis ball against the starboard wall. Sam is in the co-pilot seat, trying to read a book with a red cover and yellow spine. Nat’s knuckles turn white on the yoke, keeping the quinjet on track even though it could pretty much fly on its own. 

You like music, Steve thinks. You there now in the back corner-- fingers drumming to the private beat on your thigh, eyes closed and head tipped back, white of earbuds in stark contrast with your dark combat suit-- is a frequent sight. He imagines your recommendation might be an album for him to listen to. 

Steve’s fingers ghost over the familiar scrawl of his list; some crossed out, some recently added. 

He decides it could use more music. 

You should just ask her, Natasha smirks, jutting her chin your direction. When she moved to sit next to him, Steve didn’t know. But, she is, after all, the spy. He’d been otherwise occupied anyway. He lifts his bowed head up to fix her with a puzzled look. Nat gives him that smirk and Steve has to fight back a groan. Knocking her knee against his, she teases,  you know, she can probably feel you staring.

His eyes shoot over in your direction, sighing a little in relief when you seem to still be lost in the music pumping in your ears. Steve realizes Natasha isn’t talking about the list. Years now, and she still hasn’t given up on playing his personal matchmaker. It’s slowed, surely, due to circumstance, but she’s never satisfied. A date. He should ask you on a date, is what she means. He’s suddenly as red in the face as the tips of his ears and Natasha’s hair. 

Steve’s not blind. 

You’re attractive. 

Soft and hard in so many ways. Lips, pink and pillowy and parted ever so slightly. Sharp line of your jaw clenched, brows furrowed. The gentle curve of your neck, warm skin disappearing beneath a dirt stained, hole ridden suit that hasn’t seen mending hands in months. Not since you followed him in his free fall from grace. 

You’d followed. Wordlessly. Burned out, abandoned by coworkers and the public, you resigned yourself to this life of Motel hopping and operating outside of the realm of what’s legal. Though not outside of what’s right.

Pondering what any of that could mean feels forbidden to Steve.

The hard shell of a man, not any less great, but perhaps less sure.

He looks back at Natasha with a low shake of his head, abruptly shutting his notebook. She sighs, but takes the hint. Enough. Not now. 

Almost a year later, he does ‘just ask’. 

It’s kind of like a date, in barely-there ways. You’re left alone, facing each other in a booth, knees brushing. You go to the bathroom, Steve orders for the both of you. Kind of like a date. 

Stuffed in the sticky booth of some diner in Middle America, alone together. Natasha gone off on her own again. Bucky recovering in Wakanda. Sam out like a light on a creaking Motel 6 mattress-- hard, just like he likes it. Your muscles like jelly, stomachs rumbling with the dull ache of hunger, soaked head to toe from the torrential downpour outside. No idle chit chat for you two. Steve stares out the window, impossible blue eyes following the path of a raindrop. You ring the bottom of your shirt out onto the small bit of floor between two pairs of feet. It splatters on the ground loudly. 

Not a date. 

You risk a glance at him over the piping hot brim of your coffee mug. Silently marvel at just how much he’s changed through thin white wisps of steam. More than longer hair, more than a handsome and disguising beard, more than the ripped out star of his suit sitting in a heap on the motel room floor. You can’t say how, it’s more a feeling. 

He’s a lot quieter now. Like you. 

Steve’s always been stoic. Passionate when needs be, but not exactly loose with his emotions; never as restrained now. His voice was always strong and sure, but never quite so gruff from frequent disuse as in this past year. You suppose it’s partially your fault. With Natasha gone much more now and Sam talking enough to carry a conversation himself, you’re not exactly great company. You might be one of the reasons he speaks less and less. 

A pretty waitress is smiling wide at him, a signal that she knows. A beard and hat pulled down as far as possible would never be enough to hide those golden boy blue eyes. 

Those eyes millions of women would gladly melt into a puddle of rainwater on the dirty floor of some diner in Midwest America for. You’d have to ask for a mop later to clean up the mess. Yours and the one spilling from ‘Molly’s lips. 

I heard you have a list, she smiles coy. You tuck in to the plate of chocolate chip pancakes doused in maple syrup as she bats her eyelashes down at him. 

Steve shifts, glancing over at you seemingly uninterested in the conversation. He’d given up on you having anything to do with the list weeks ago. He may be a fugitive-- may no longer be an Avenger, Captain America-- but he’s still a nice guy.  

Yes, he laughs kindly, hands clasped together on the table top.

You sniff and his eyes snap to yours again, tense. You’ll have to leave soon. Now that ‘Molly’ from the midnight shift at Red’s diner has seen Steve Rogers and his pretty blue eyes, you’ll have to wake Sam from his long overdue sleep and be gone before dawn. You wish he could’ve been left longer. It’s just how things work these days. A long shot from living plush, courtesy of Tony Stark. But you can wait long enough to finish coffee and breakfast.

Can I make a suggestion? she leans down and speaks in soft tones, a wicked grin hidden beneath those sweet, innocent looking red lips. 

You raise a brow when Steve politely nods, pulling out his trusty notebook from his back pocket. Steve asks to borrow a pen which she hastily holds out to him, purposely having their fingers brush in the exchange. Surely he knows she’s flirting, he’s not that naive. There’s no way. He’s a nice guy, maybe too nice.

She’s young. You imagine she has spent more than a few nights looking up at a poster of his face, clean shaven and perfect, playing this exact conversation in her head. That she has carefully thought over what her input would be. 

You should definitely watch ‘Friends’ when you have the time. 

You snort. Loudly. 

Molly instantly shrinks in on herself, deflated. Steve gives you an odd look, which you brush off and promptly resume shoveling the sweet breakfast food into your mouth. 

He’s so kind, it’s downright disgusting. 

Steve makes a point of writing it down underneath ‘Stevie Wonder’, smiling, Thank you. And for good measure, when he returns the pen, Captain America runs his ring finger across her knuckle. Oh, he knew. So considerate, you almost want to smirk when you catch it.

She’s gone now to wait on the other late night stragglers, blushing and gently ghosting her fingers over the spot he’d touched. Your hurtful mocking isn’t enough to dampen the feel of being caught in Steve Rogers’ warm glow. 

His knee presses along the inside of yours again when he shifts to shove the small book back into his pants. You take a measured sip of coffee. 

Steve raises a brow in your direction, Did you have a better suggestion?

There. He’s asked. 

Maybe he could finally breathe in your presence now. 

No luck considering you simply shrug and break from his gaze. So unreadable. It’s frustrating. He has half a mind to write ‘shrug’ underneath ‘Friends’. Are you? Friends, he means. You’ve known each other what feels like a lifetime now. At whatever this is for a year and a half. He can count on one hand the amount of conversations not involving a mission you’ve shared. 

He trusts you with his life, which, after everything that’s happened, is a rare commodity. He’s sure you feel the same. 

You’d say that no, you’re not friends. You probably wouldn’t deny the unfathomable trust in each other, though. That’s comforting at least. You sleep a bed away every night after all. 

Steve doesn’t really sleep. 

He doesn’t know you know that; you don’t sleep either. 

He’s staring, maybe he doesn’t realize it. 

You’ve abandoned your fork, suddenly feeling sick with it. That fucking blue. It split you like butter and might’ve knocked you over had you not been tightly gripping your knee under the table. 

So handsome it hurts. 

How could anyone be that pretty? Heartbreaking. Even before the serum-- you’ve seen the pictures. Breathtaking. The beard. The beard is really something. So so pretty. Adonis and Aphrodite. Michelangelo’s David. Torturous. 

It’s been almost a full minute now. Of him, just staring. 

You clear your throat in hopes it might pull him out of whatever it is that has claimed him. It doesn’t work. You talk just to end it. You know for certain that will surprise him. 

Why do you even keep up with it? The list. That stupid goddamned list.

You can see the flush on Steve’s neck when he does realize that he’d stared at you, through you, in you, for the longest two minutes in history. He coughs into his fist. 

What do you mean? his brow furrows, and you almost want to touch the crease between them to make it go away. It’s a ridiculous thought. One you shake away with another measured sip of coffee. 

Doesn’t it seem... you shrug, and there’s an urge in him to grab you by the shoulders and beg you to stop fucking shrugging so goddamned much. Steve thinks he might go insane if he sees those shoulders twitch up again. I dunno, kind of pointless now?

In a way, yes, it is. 

Steve can’t exactly pop in a film or binge watch a tv show like this. And sitting down to listen to read a book doesn’t really seem right.

He doesn’t answer. You watch him finally pick up his own fork, cutting into an omelette more cheese and meat than egg. 

It still rains down hard. 

Steve pays the bill, smiling tightly at Molly when she lays her hand on his bicep. He tips her well, she was sweet and young and still half terrified from just you snorting. 

You follow a few paces behind him out of the diner, mindful of maintaining that distance. 

Neither of you bother to fight against getting soaked. 

You’re both immediately set on edge when three cars pull into the parking lot, tightly together. It’s the kind of thing you’d been trained to be suspicious of. The kind of thing that never means anything good when around people like you. It means they have come for you both. It means you'll probably have to fight. 

He pauses underneath the buzzing neon sign. His back is to you, the tense expanse of muscles outlined by the wet shirt clinging to his skin. A breath. Another. 

Giggling.

You hear giggling of all things, bubbling through the parking lot. Girls, a whole crowd of them, spilling out of the cars, hushing each other. His name is on their cherry chapstick lips. Not his name, his title: Captain America. Molly had texted them, that’s clear now. 

It’s better, at least, than your previous estimation. But it’s trouble nevertheless. 

Steve turns to face you and somehow, the soft glow of red on his face only makes his eyes bluer. He takes a step forward. You understand. You always understand in the absence of words. There’s a link between the two of you when you’re in that working mode. That trust, tangible in how you too, step forward. 

It’s procedural. You fall into it so easily.

His head ducks, yours raises. Eyes locked in one another, but ears elsewhere, listening. Not touching, but near to it. A breath away. Swaying in the rain. You feel it sizzle on your skin, see it coming off him in steam. 

No one bothers the two lovers, obviously too occupied with each other to be superheroes. Natasha had taught you both that. 

It pours harder yet. 

The giggles fade into nothing, drowned in the monsoon-- no space between the fat drops pelting the earth. They couldn’t see the two of you now even if they tried. 

Why did you come? You never really said, he has to shout, the rain is so loud. 

You’ve left a lot unsaid. Some things are better that way. 

Steve’s hands, large and powerful, stop your shoulders mid shrug. Don’t, he squeezes his eyes shut, drops of rain trickling down the slopes of his nose, For the love of God, don’t fucking shrug.

Everything is heavy: your drenched clothes, his hands still gripping your shoulders, the crushing weight in your chest-- the rock lodged in your throat with all the things you’ve never said for the sake of some stupid credo about not letting things get personal. You’ve let the words die on your lips and for what? 

It did nothing. The lines blurred anyway, out of your control. 

The truth: there hasn’t been a distance greater than the width of his notebook between the two of you for a long time now. 

You pretend. 

You both pretend that absence of any extended conversation means you haven’t already learned everything about each other just by watching. Stealing glances when the other is turned away. 

Steve pretends that the reason your input in the list matters so much to him is because he wants to know the people he’s trusting with his life. 

He already knows you. Not your favorite color or band, but you. Your outline in the darkness of a thousand motels. The smell of you under layers of grime and sweat and blood-- you’re scrubbed clean with the same soap he uses. Your breathing patterns: one when you’re resting with your earbuds in, head bopping to songs he’s not been privy to; another when you’re side by side in combat, moving together like one; the most prominent, when you’re both laying in bed staring at the ceiling, too lost in thought to even care about sleep. 

You know him too.

His question. How do you answer? You followed. Wasn’t that answer enough?

Where’s your notebook? You ask instead, though it’s more of a call in this downpour. 

Steve’s brow furrows again, left hand flying back to pat the small book in his pocket. This time, you do reach out, though you don’t have to go very far. His breath quickens when the pad of your thumb brushes against the wet crease of skin pulled together in uncertainty. He swallows hard, rifling through the pages a little messy because he can’t stop looking at you. Your hand stays there until the pressure releases. For a good second after, too.     

When he finally opens it up to the two pages worth of ‘to-do’, the ink is running. Black to blue. A melted mess of jumbled letters on delicate paper one wrong twitch away from ripping. 

You take it from his hands, gentle, because you’re pretty sure this notebook has been a lifeline for him. Grounding. There’s sketches in there that you’ve only caught glimpses of. 

You lament now that it has been ruined by the rain. 

I don’t have a pen, he says softly. Softly, because he’s closer now than you’ve ever been. You’ve never heard him so soft. So cautious that his voice might scare you away. 

You spare a languid glance up to see just how close he is. It must be only inches because you can hear him through the rain. You tilt your chin to the sky, heavy lids widening slightly. 

He’s closer than even that. Not inches, centimeters. If you hadn’t been swaying in synchronization and instead leaned forward at the same time...

You don’t even know what you’re doing. For the first time in a while, you’re scared. 

The book is closed between your palms, the list shut. You’ll deal with it another day. You’ll help him remember everything that was on there so he can rewrite it. 

Steve leans in more. Not enough. 

I’ll just tell you then, you nod. Steve’s chest brushes against yours as you both suck in heavy breaths. You press the notebook there, against the hard swells of his front, closer to his heart. 

Which question are you answering? Why did you come? Or did you have a better suggestion?

Bob Dylan.

What?

Bob Dylan. Bringing It All Back Home. 1965.

Oh.

The stupid list. For years now, that’s all he’s wanted to hear. But there, under the neon sign, in the parking lot of Red’s diner, drenched in the deluge of rain, it’s not enough. 

We’ll listen to it together, you smile and he’s never seen it quite so big or bright.

Together. It is enough. 

Your lips taste of rain and maple syrup. He’ll remember it for a while. Forever, maybe. And him, you don’t recall something ever being so rich in your life. Steve’s mouth, so decadent you could die with a sated smile still. It’s all the sweeter, the press of your lips together; in it all those words left unsaid. You breathe them into his mouth, warm and red and waiting, and he sears them back into yours with the delicate slide of his tongue. Mouths together form lost sentences and sing. A crescendoing flurry of soundless vowels and consonants that only the two of you will ever hear. 

Steve faintly hears the notebook fall in a splash at your feet and you can feel the grin in his lips by the scratch of his beard against your chin. You’ll feel guilty for dropping it later, but your hand had been hellbent on curling itself under his arms and around his shoulder. His own hands cradle your neck and face, slipping across the rain wet planes of your face. And those forearms, like hams, rest heavily on your shoulders-- so that you can never shrug again. If you can’t find the words, Steve’s content to have you speak them on his lips. 

Everyone’s got a submission to his list. 

But yours come with a kiss. 

Yours is the only one that he’s ever really cared about.  

Sam complains weeks later that he’s sick of hearing Bob Dylan.

[itsawritblr]

I saw “The Protege.”

Michael Keaton is the only reason I saw The Protege.

I don’t like violent movies.  Hate them, actually.  I don’t find violence entertaining, and I don’t understand people who are entertained by it. I don’t get any kind of vicarious release from watching people doing godawful physical things to each other.  I’m not against these movies. I just choose to avoid them, the same way I avoid watching football, reality TV shows, and ballet.

I read all the spoilers about The Protege, as well as a few reviews, so I pretty much knew what I was in for.  Except reviewers rarely mention the level of blood and bone-snapping in movies anymore.  Ever since CG became so incredibly realistic, films, and TV, have taken advantage of the tech to show horrible things in detail.  Children have grown up watching The Sopranos, Game of Thrones, The Walking Dead.  Why would reviewers mention something that even little kids are used to?

So I wasn’t prepared for the sights and sounds of people having nightmarish (to me) things done to them.  A couple happened so suddenly I wasn’t able to close my eyes in time.  I kept them closed, but the Foley artist’s sounds were very effective in getting across what was happening.  I felt queasy a couple times from the audio alone.

The plot was rife with tropes, which is fine, because it’s a thriller.

Being Hapa, it was great to see a Hapa woman as the MC.  I loved her bookshop and her kitty.  Keaton’s character walking in was like a Villy fanfic where Modern V.A. comes into Milly Farrier’s bookshop.  Anna banters with him the way I’d love to write Milly bantering with V.A.

How could I not think of V.A.?  Remember that Dumbo promo poster, with Vandevere in a blue suit he never wears in the movie?

Welp, he wears it in this movie.

At dinner he wears an ascot.  This is fanfiction Modern V.A., I swear.

Now that I think of it, he does have a gray suit.  Also like V.A.

It was really annoying when the Villy-inspiring moments were interrupted with heads being blown apart and bashed in, arms being snapped, stabbings and shootings.  I impatiently munched on Raisinets while I waited for the next Anna-Rembrandt scene.

My patience paid off.  Not only was there Hot Banter While Threatening to Kill Each Other Over Dinner . . .

 . . . there’s THAT scene.

SPOILERS AFTER THIS

Rembrandt and Anna are trying to kill each other, they keep grabbing each other and looking hornily at each other, and Anna accidentally turns on a stereo which plays hot, horny music. They’re on a glass table, Rembrandt flips them, and they fall, crashing through the table and onto the floor, Anna on top of Rembrandt.  He rolls them over, and, while on top, he growls, “You’re going to have to make up your mind.  Either kill me or fuck me.”

Immediately the scene goes to a bed, with shirtless Rembrandt rolling off Anna, and they lay next to each other, huffing from the exertion of what must have been intense fucking.

SHIRTLESS MICHAEL KEATON, Y’ALL

But this is where I get pissed off.  Before this there’s been explict gore and blood, tons of it.

But they couldn’t do an explicit, or damn near explict, scene of Keaton humping??  They couldn't show Anna arching her back and crying out as Keaton groans and pumps like mad??  What the actual not-explicit fuck??

I don’t reread my own fics, but now I need to reread As Long As You Love Me So, because I need a V.A.-and-Milly-fucking fix.

Also, there was a continuity glitch.  The scene starts off with the sheet down as far as Rembrandt’s waist, or close enough.  It then switches to Anna talking.  When it switches back to Rembrandt, the sheet’s higher.  But still can see that lovely, curly gray chest hair that would make Milly, and me, swoon and pet him.

To be honest, I felt no chemistry from Anna/Maggie Q toward Rembrandt/Keaton.  She said the lines, but her face just looked kind of . . . not really feeling it.  I think, like Milly in Dumbo, Anna is meant to be so traumatized from her really godawful childhood that she can’t express emotions well.  But, even as I type this, I realize that’s not true.  Samuel L. Jackson plays a man who saved her as a little girl and was her surrogate father.  You can see Anna loves him deeply.  But I got no real lust from her for Rembrandt.

As for Keaton, he did better.  But it wasn’t hot, panting lust.  It was like those acting classes when you’re trying to do a scene with a partner who’s just not as committed as you are.  He was, but Maggie Q., not so much.  Now that I think about it, I’ve never really seen Keaton do hot, horny lust.  With the exception of Beetlejuice. (but there are lot of his films I haven’t seen yet)

There’s an air of pining around Rembrandt for the rest of the movie.  When he and Anna have their final face-off, he’s trying to convince her that there can be more, for both of them.  But, of course, there can’t be a Happy Ending.  One has to kill the other.  It’s Anna who walks out alive.  I was spared seeing Rembrandt killed; it happens off-screen.

I wanted the last scene to be Rembrandt and Anna in their bookshop, him petting the shop kitty while she sells a rare First Edition.  But that’s a fanfic ending.

If you’re a Keaton fan and don’t mind gore and a not-challenging plot, the movie’s worth it for Keaton.  But just Keaton.  As this review says:

Review: As soon as Michael Keaton shows up, he elevates 'The Protégé'

I noticed that Keaton’s face is starting to show his age.  But.  At 70 (as of Sept. 5) he looks like 60.  And he moves like 40.  Whatever, he’s still hot as hell.

Extra crap about the movie that has nothing to do with Keaton:

The Evil Villain Rembrandt works for who Anna’s trying to kill lives on his own island in Vietnam.  Yes, the Evilest of Evil has an Evil Island, because all Evilest of Evils have one.

Naturally, the island is packed end to end with security forces.  They’re in full SWAT gear, have flocks of drones, tanks, helicopters, dogs, probably some Lovecraftian monster swimming its perimeters.  Because of course you have to convince the audience that No One Can Breach This Impenetrable Fortress It’s Impossible Don’t Even Try It It’s A Waste Of Your Time And Ours.

And of course Anna does.  By chopping her hair super-short and impersonating a waitress.

Because I guess this guy’s Evil Empire Staff didn’t do a background check?  I had to fucking pee in a cup and have my background scoured when I applied at a frickin’ jewelry store, but these guys, who are protecting a man tons of people want to murder, didn’t make absolutely goddamn sure any and all references and work histories were sound?  I guess Anna and Samuel L. Jackson mocked up a false identity so iron-clad the Evil Empire HR looked at her resume, shrugged, and put it in the Probably Not An Assassin pile.

Call me ruthless, but thrillers do not know how to wipe out an Evil Empire On An Evil Villain Island.

Two words:

Napalm. Sarin gas.

OK, that’s three words.

Now this shit is so truly evil that no one uses these as weapons in movies.  Hitler didn’t even use gas, because, putrid heinous scum that he was, even he was traumatized by what mustard gas did in the trenches in WWI.

And people in Vietnam know exactly how indescribably abhorrent Napalm is.  So do those of us who grew up watching the results of it on the 6 o’clock news.

Plus, in a movie, those weapons are too effective, and aren’t good visually.  You can’t shoot or stab Napalm or gas.  You can’t blow them up or break their necks. In a movie thriller you want bullets blasting everywhere at 100,000 miles per hour, gouging holes in walls, ceilings, and floors.  You want fighters in a clinch, punching, spinning, flipping, until the final Kill Move.

This is why thrillers bore me, because I’m not interested in any of that stuff.

[nocturnegyser]

The feels

Warren x Reader (raccoon)

A/N: I’ve had this typed out for a while and I wanted to go do more Warren x Raccoon material, I just decided to actually go through it, it still probably sucks but I tried. I’m not a professional in any sense, anyways, enjoy :3

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Summary: Warrens been acting strange.. (y/n) tries to find out what’s happening with him, wonder what it is?

———

Having only been going to her new school for 2 months, (y/n) has already met so many cool people. She even started her band called ‘Clean Trash’, ironically not with Warren on the drums.

The one replacing Warren on drums was a 5th grader named Ryan Husk, his muatation allows to move any liquid with his mind, their bassist being an 8th grader named Mars Palenski, his mutation gives him a giant rats tail and ears, pretty similar to (y/n)’s raccoon ears and tail.

Needless to say, (y/n) was getting along just fine, she was keeping up with her classes, nothing perfect but she didn’t care, just as long as she was passing.

———

Waking up one morning for breakfast, (y/n) nader her way to the kitchen for hopefully some marshmallow mateys, one she got there she saw Warren standing at the stove preparing food, both locking eyes when she walked in.

This reminded (y/n) of their first proper time meeting, although instead of giving Warren a death look, she smiled and wished him a good morning.

Warren doing the same, (y/n) was grabbing the cereal and milk, in the midst of preparing her breakfast.

“I can make you some french toast if you want” Warren offered

“Huh?.. oh.. yea ok” the still waking up very tired raccoon girl sitting down at the counter

Peter and Alex then walking in greeting both a good morning, then returning a good morning back.

Peter then smelling the french toast “Oh man! I love your french toast!” Peter getting excited

“Fuck off, I’m not making you anymore after what happened last time” Warren staring daggers at Peter while setting a plate in front of (y/n) and himself

“What happened last time?” (y/n) asked pouring syrup on her stack

“Well basically-“ Peter started then Alex shortly cutting him off “He finished all 24 pieces Warren spent almost an hour making, he didn’t even get a single bite”

“Dang” (y/n) responded while taking a bite “Hey, what do you expect from me? I was too hungry!”

“Some damn self control would be nice” Warren still staring daggers at Peter, both opting to eat the same marshmallow mateys (y/n) was planning on eating

———

After finishing (y/n) washed her dishes and offered to help Warren clean up but he insisted she go and get ready for classes, she took him up on it and go ready for the day, washed her face, brushed her teeth, hair, ears and tail.

(y/n) and Warren didn’t have any classes together, their schedules didn’t really cross paths a lot, even morning breakfasts like that were rare, (y/n) was content with their schedules not matching up all the time, she was happy with whatever time they did spend together if any at all.

(y/n) mostly ate lunch with Jubilee and if she wasn’t available for lunch then Mars and Ryan would eat with her.

It was after classes when Clean Trash would practice in the unused music room, that is if neither Ryan or Mars had homework.

She had a policy if either of them had homework before coming to practice they would have to finish it before they turn the amps on, or if they got in trouble they wouldn’t practice that day, they didn’t practice on the weekends though.

“You guys got any homework?” (y/n) asked her band mates, “No,” both answered truthfully

“Ok, let’s begin with ‘My heart is a futon’” (y/n) taking initiative

“How do you come up with these song names?” Mars asked

“I dunno, just whatever comes to mind, mind counting us off Ryan?” (y/n) pointing at Ryan, guitar pick in hand

“One, two, three, four, one two!”

Warren just so happened to be passing by the music room the band was in and overheard them playing.

Wanting to go unnoticed, he peeked in through the window watching and listening to them play, mostly focusing on (y/n) though.

Jean shortly caught him watching them and overheard what he was thinking

She has a really good singing voice, not to mention how her hair falls perfectly while playing..

“Wow,” Jean interrupting his thought “Never seen you this head over heels for someone, must be pretty special”

“Hey! I’m not ‘head over heels’, okay?“ Warren realizing she knows exactly what she’s talking about “They just sound really good is all”

“Right, just like what you thought on the ride to the movies” Jean flustering the already flustered angel boy even more “You think you’re ever going to tell her?”

“How do you- look, quit reading my thoughts okay? I don’t have anything to tell her” Warren becoming a little defensive “We’re just friends”

“Warren, you’re only friends for so long before she moves on” Jean trying to convince him

“Moves on? what’s that supposed to mean?” Warren asked confused

“You’re going to see what I mean, just waiting around doing nothing” Jean then walking off

Move on?... does she mean... no

Warren takes one more glance of (y/n) playing before walking off

———

In his room who he shared with Kurt, laying on his bed thinking to himself

Should I tell her?... Will someone else come along?...

Kurt and Alex bursting in throwing Warrens train of thought off, both seeing his worry almost immediately

Kurt, trying to be a good friend crouched down near Warren “You have immense sadness in your eyes friend, tell us what’s wrong?”

Warren, not wanting to talk about it, but not wanting to come off too mean, “Ok Blue, listen, I don’t want to talk about anything, especially with you” eventually just walking out in a huff

“... Think it was something I said?” Kurts ears flopped in a sad manner, Peter assuring him it was him “Ah jeez, he’s been like this since our horror movie trip plan fell through, must’ve really wanted to watch that movie..”

What would I ever say.. How would I even say it... when.. should I say... GAH! I hate this! I’m going to workout

Walking in the locker room , he ran into Scott already talking to friends.

His friends having already gotten ready before him, they went on ahead leaving Scott alone with Warren.

“Hey Warren! I haven’t talked to you since the horror movie fail, how’ve you been man?” Scott trying to spark a small conversation getting ready

“Yeah I’ve been fine” Warren already disconnecting from the world around him

“Yeah, you never told us how your trip to the music shop with (y/n) was” Scott joked

“It was fine” Warren replied coldly

“Fine enough you started acting less cranky all the time?”

“It was until you opened your mouth” Warren getting done before Scott and heading into the gym

———

In her room, (y/n) and Jubilee are planning the elementary classes Summer picnic, it was a special request by Charles.

“So that’s 25 turkey sandwiches for the kids with nut allergies.. and 45 pb & j’s.. in total thats.. 70 sandwiches, whoooff” (y/n) laying back in her bed just wanting to go to sleep even thought it was only 4:37pm

“Ok Scott called the ice cream parlor and they did have each classes flavor selections, but we do have to go pick them up ourselves the day of,” (y/n), Jubilee, Scott and Jean have all been tasked in helping plan this picnic for some time.

“Ok I guess that just leaves... actually making the sandwiches, sorting the sandwiches, and picking up everything else.. ugh, I don’t hate these kids but why do there have to be so many of them” (y/n) was super exhausted

“Doesn’t your reality manipulation allow you to multiply objects?”

“I don’t have it under control yet, so as of the moment.. no”

“Well not taking the easy way goes to show how much you care right? Besides, isn’t one of your band members attending this picnic? Ryan Dust, right?”

“Husk, and yes, he is coincidentally in the class I’ll be helping supervise”

“You see? wouldn’t it be just awesome for little Ryan to his bands leader working hard?”

“Ugh... I guess so”

“Well I gotta get going” Jubilee started packing her things, “I gotta meet with Jane and discuss seating arrangements, see if you can get any help with the sandwiches, maybe ask Warren?”

“Why Warren?” (y/n) confused why Jubilee specifically said Warren

“Why not Warren? Doesnt Ryan look up to Warren as a drummer? I’m sure it would make Ryan super motivated to see two people he looks up to working so hard”

“Yea ok but-“

“Hold that but. I gotta go, talk later”

With that over, for now, (y/n) started cleaning up the mess of papers on her bed and grabbed her phone to call Warren, voicemail.

Huh... guess he’s busy right now.. I’ll ask again later... but I might forget to ask later and he might over book his schedule, he really needs to stop doing that... Oh! I know! I’ll set a reminder on my phone! this phone has a reminder app doesn’t it?

Navigating her phone proved to be more difficult than she anticipated, considering she’s had her phone longer than a month, it was still her first phone, her brother got it for her before she left, she never really got around to learning how to use it.

Getting frustrated not finding what she needed using her phone, (y/n) opted to asking Warren in person

———

Running around the whole mansion looking for Warren and even asking people who knew him if they saw him around, no luck.

Until she ran into Kurt and Peter in the main hall, (y/n) immediately running up to them and asking both if the saw him anywhere.

“Uh, yeah last we saw him, he was heading to the gym, looked like he was going through it,” Peter answered, Kurt immediately agreeing, “Ja, He stormed off after I asked him what was wrong..”

What was wrong? Going through it? What’s happening with Warren?

Peter then reassuring Kurt it wasn’t his fault Warren was upset, “Dude, I told you, he’s been like this since that movie we went to go see sold out on movie tickets, like I said, he’s probably just pissed he didn’t get to see it”

“Been like what?” (y/n) now concerned

“Well it’s kinda difficult to explain but more happy in a way kinda, but also crank now that he’s more happy, y’know?”

(y/n) understood what he meant, “Yea.. well I’ll ask him about it once I find him, thank guys,” (y/n) then running off towards the gym, the two boys nodding and continuing on with their day.

———

(y/n) made it to the gym, not having really used it yet, she just ran in looking for Warren, she figured she’d look for his wings since they were easy to spot.

After a few minutes of looking, (y/n) eventually spotted Warren lifting weights on a bench in the back.

She was waving and shouting to him hoping he’d notice but he wasn’t paying attention and had his music in.

(y/n) decided she’d approach him and get his attention that way, upon approaching him she tapped his shoulder hoping it would get his attention, big mistake.

Tapping Warrens shoulder triggered his fight instincts and whipped around with full wing span, cutting (y/n) in the face.

She fell to the ground dazed holding her face, Warren immediately realizing what he’s done he immediately runs to her and gives her a towel to cover her cut with.

Scott noticing the commotion ran over to help Warren rush (y/n) to med.

———

Outside of med Warren was pacing back and forth while Scott was sitting on a bench, both waiting for Hank and (y/n).

Warren couldn’t stop pacing, Scott tried to relieve him,” Hey look, worst case scenario, she just has some light scarring..”

Warren immediately erupting, “No! Don’t you get it??! This whole thing means I haven’t changed a bit since Apocalypse!!,” Warren having remembered his nature when he aligned with Apocalypse over 2 years ago.

“Hey! Now don’t say that! You obviously didn’t mean to hurt her, you obviously aren’t the same from then“ Scott trying to assure Warren he isn’t the same from back then, “Look! even you and Kurt can live in the same room! Surely that means something”

“Yea, not like we ever talk,” Warren denying everything Scott was saying, Scott still trying to convince him otherwise, “Even Kurt considers you a friend now, he never saw you as a bad guy Warren, no one has, not even Charles”

Warren still not listening stormed off again, tears almost forming in his eyes, not too long after, Hank brought (y/n) with a clean bill of health apart from the bandage on her face, and a lollipop

“Nothing too bad, the bleeding stopped, it’s best to keep the bandage on to prevent bacteria from getting in,” Hank explained to Scott

“Thanks Mr. Hank, also for the lollipop” (y/n) gratefully thanked, then looking around for Warren “Where’d Warren go?”

“Oh, Warren... he needed to go... take care of something,” Scott nervously told (y/n) not wanting to worry her by telling her he stormed off because he’s afraid he’s the same as when he was with Apocalypse

“Oh... I just needed to talk to him about something..”

“About the sandwiches for the picnic right? Jubilee asked Peter if he could help, with Peter the sandwiches will be done in a second”

(y/n) shaking her head, “No, not that... I needed to ask him about.. something else”

Scott a little confused but realizing, “You’re not.. mad at Warren now are you?” Scott reluctantly asked (y/n)

(y/n) shaking her head again, “Of course not, I probably shouldn’t have snuck up on him like that, it’s just as much my fault I got this that it his,” (y/n) immediately placing the blame on herself for something that obviously wasn’t her fault or Warrens

Both Hank and Scott try to reassure it wasn’t either sides fault

“Well, I know he didn’t mean to hurt me, I just... I need to talk to him”

“Well.. it’s probably not the best time to... bother him, he’s got some .. things to take care of right now,” Scott trying to avoid even more problems between them

“Maybe, but he’s.. my friend, I need to know if he’s alright” (y/n) then speed walking off to go find Warren

“Ah jeez...” Scott sighed

“Think they’re... actually going to talk about... that?” Hank asked

“I dunno, I just hope they’re able to work things out”

———

Having run through the whole mansion looking for Warren once again, (y/n) was certain she knew where he was, but to no avail. On her way back to her room, she noticed the attic ceiling hatch and realized.

“Tch- could he...,” (y/n) began opening the hatch letting the ladder down then ascending up into the attic.

“Hello-“ (y/n) checking to see if anyone was up there, then there he was. Not wanting to alarm him again, she slowly arose from the hatch and go up slowly as to not to alarm him. Warren was just sitting on a window sill looking out, lost in thought

W: *Why did I do that... I told myself she.. I was going to...*

(y/n): *Ok, I can see he isn’t paying attention again... this time I’ll... I’ll call him softly as to not to trigger his attack again*

(y/n) reluctantly took a step closer, stepping on a creaky floorboard thus alerting Warren, Warren looked over and sat up immediately, panic in his eyes.

“(y/n)!” Warren stuttered

“Hi! uh.. I just wanted to check up on you ‘cus I heard from Peter and Kurt that-“ (y/n) trying to be friendly with Warren then cutting her off

“(y/n)! y-you shouldn’t be here, it’s not-“ Warren spat out nervously with (y/n) cutting him off in return

“Ok ok I know I know, you had some stuff to think about but, I just wanted to say I’m sorry I snuck up on you like that, I should have probably alerted you before approaching you, you just had your music in I didn’t know-“ Warren then cutting her off once again “Look. (y/n), I am truly sorry I cut your face but.. you shouldn’t be around me, I’m just-“

“What? Dangerous? just ‘cause you have metal wings? there are people in this world without metal wings who I’m scared of more than you”

“(y/n)-”

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me like that I just.. at first I wanted to ask you about sandwiches but.. Peter and Kurt told me you’ve been ‘going through it’, their words not mine, and I just wanted to see exactly... what it is you’re going through..”

“(y/n), listen, you don’t understand, I’m the Archangel of Death! I don’t belong anywhere here, I just-“ Warren spewed out with (y/n) cutting him off again

“Warren! just shut up and listen to what I have to say!” she bursted out, continuing “I know you don’t mean any harm even whatever happened in the past, I’m not sure what all happened but that’s hopefully why I’m here, I just want to be there for someone who makes this place feel more like home even though we don’t meet up a lot”

“y/n), I-“

“Being here was scary but being here with you.. made it less scary, I don’t know if you feel the same way about me but.. I want. to be there for you when I can, Warren” (y/n) then taking a step closer knowing Warren can’t go anywhere

“Being around you.. I feel.. like maybe being here isn’t so bad, like maybe I can actually make something of myself here, like maybe.. you aren’t so bad..” (y/n) holding herself with tears welling up in her eyes

“I don’t know if you feel the same around me but.. that’s how I feel.. about you” (y/n) finally finishing

“(y/n)...” (y/n) holding for impact, entirely expecting him to reject her feeling, “I feel the same way about you,” Warren then taking a step closer

(y/n) almost gasped not believing what she heard

“Being around you.. brings me to a simpler time in my life and.. whenever we do meet up or bump into each other that feeling washes over me completely and.. I thought you hated my guts when we first met. You calling me angel boy, me calling you trash panda.. I never thought you’d want to talk to me ‘cus..” Warren expanding his wings and motion to them “I also wanted to be there for you when I could but.. I never saw you during the day, so I just..”

Both of them just stood there, looking into each other’s eye, then both taking another step closer to one another.

“Can I..” Warren started, looking deep into (y/n)’s yellow golden eyes, “Can I.. kiss.. you?”

(y/n) tears streaming down her face, just stood there looking up at Warren, not even answering him, she jumped up wrapping her arms around his neck just going for it. They kissed, Warren holding her close to him, (y/n) hasn’t felt so safe since she moved, Warrens wings around both of them. After what felt like forever only being 8 seconds, they separated kissing still holding each other.

“Well... ever kiss a raccoon face girl?” (y/n) joked

“He he, uh.. no but it was definitely a fine start”

Both chuckling before kissing again

———

A/N: if this sucked plz tell me, bully me if it was actually bad :D

[nutty1005]

(Excerpt) Exclusive Interview – The Story Behind “Cao Yu’s Special 110 Year Old Commemoration Event”

Original Article: https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/TVxr2OkA_NRlCsvsEzRsVQ This article is published by Blogger World 博客天下 Weixin on 31 Aug 2020. I only extracted the portions that spoke about Xiao Zhan and how they made contact. 

01 Youth

Tens of thousands of fans flood into the live broadcast, not only to see their idol, who had not been seen for a while, but also to enjoy a feast of plays strung together by Cao Yu and Wan Fang. Exclamations such as “I didn’t know plays were this amazing” and “I want to watch at least once in the theaters” were seen in the scrolling comments.

This was the first time the theater attempted live broadcast. Wang Keran was not sure whether this attempt could aptly showcase the difference between plays and television dramas – how it is done “live” and how it can interact with the audience, “but what I know is, in this day and age, most audience choose to watch online, hence I will use this method to showcase the charm of theaters.”

Wang Keran’s thought was – how do we commemorate Cao Yu? “Can it be considered a commemoration by simply acting his works on stage?” He felt that something was simply missing.

He wanted a youth, to raise questions on Cao Yu’s works – and via these questions, highlight the vitality that links up the stories and the lives of our youth.

Wang Keran feels that, as classics, there should be a certain core vitality to it that crosses time, and touches the hearts of people regardless of the era. If they did not create the chance for the youth to understand the classics, it might instead create estrangements and misunderstandings.

The Chinese Central Drama Group used “Cao Yu’s Special 110 Year Commemoration Event” as the starting point to begin the conversation, in hopes of resonating with the audience.

Wang Keran said “The core of the conversation is, can Cao Yu’s works still stir up people’s emotions?”

The commemorative segment on Wan Fang and Xiao Zhan’s “Conversation of Two Eras” was birthed under such a thought.

As the daughter of renowned author Cao Yu, as well as a famous playwright in her own right, Wan Fang has an open attitude. She felt that this should be a question to be left to actors “On one hand, classics that has the hallmark of its era, but on the other hand, its influence also goes beyond its era. How do you portray that? How do you face new audiences?”

The emphasis on “current”, is a special feature of the Chinese Central Drama Group.

According to statistics for the audiences of Chinese Central Drama Group, 60% are aged 18 to 40, 70% are below 45, 90% are below 55. This is related to Wang Keran’s view on theater, to him, the audiences are able to project their mental rhythm onto the stories portrayed in theaters, “Plays are always reflecting the spiritual unrest of the people now, under the current circumstances.”

For many late nights, Wang Keran spent him time with pop culture. He saw all kinds of popular works, fantasy literature, and also books recommended by the interns in the theater. He is 50 this year, and hence it was difficult for him to be interested in some of the works, but he still persisted, “I feel that as someone who is in performing arts, if I can’t communicate with teeagers, that I’ll be really old. My age is like this, but my expressions cannot cause the youth to feel that there is a gap between us.”

Before this live broadcast attempt, he already started using TV celebrities on stage. Starting from “Watching TV with You” (TN: A play), he has invited stars from all age groups to leave their mark on the Chinese Central Drama Group.

This was not a mere commercial consideration.  Wang Keran felt, plays are an art of “actor”. In the history of Chinese Opera and theater history, it is common to be headlined by the actor, and fans attending for the sake of the actor is almost traditional.

“Which of the Chinese plays were not acted by the biggest star of that era? If the star is suitable, we would invite him/her. I need the star, I just need him/her to stand there, so that more people would believe and understand the charm of the theater.”

In stirring up the interests of young audiences, he always had this optimistic faith – “Many youth, while exploring why that pudding is delicious, is also exploring why pain and suffering descends upon them, why happiness is like a bright light, momentary but yet gives so much deeply enjoyable emotions to themselves.”

When Cao Yu wrote “Thunder Rain”, he was also a youth. When “Thunder Rain” premiered in China on 1935, it was organized by Gusong Drama Group from Tianjin City Normal School, and the 25 year old Cao Yu went to direct the rehearsals. All the actors were students, the set came from the school shed, they rehearsed during the summer break and acted in the school hall.

No matter it was via a popular celebrity, or via live broadcast, Wang Keran wanted to share and introduce theater to more youths.

02 Questions

Before this, Wang Keran never heard of Xiao Zhan. There was once a friend who brought up that this young man might be interested in plays, but he did not think much of it.

However, after a string of events, he felt that this young man is quite interesting, “The most mysterious thing about a person’s life is how impermanent it is, and this is also where the soul of theater lies.”

“This person Xiao Zhan, is a question, isn’t it?”

When organizing “Cao Yu’s Special 110 Year Commemoration Event”, he asked his friend to bring Xiao Zhan a message, with a mission – raise some questions to Wan Fang’s “Journey of Winter” and “You and I”.

“I’m just seeing if we’re fated, if he could ask the questions.” Wang Keran hoped that the questions could highlight the deep thought and analysis of the current youth.

A few days later, Xiao Zhan replied a long list of 20 to 30 questions, to his amazement, and hence sealed the collaboration. After the broadcast, many speculations left Wang Keran laughing at how ridiculous they were.

“Some came to my Weibo to attack me, said that the questions were prepared by us for him. Excuse me, I’m 50 already, I really can’t ask questions like a 20 year old.”

“Aren’t you worried that Xiao Zhan would bring about some negative doubts?”

When “Blogger World” raised the same question, Wang Keran said “Let them question. Wan Fang and I, both of us just have one statement, if we are always moving forward with ‘truth’, then we will do what we should do.”

In this special event, the conversation between Wan Fang and Xiao Zhan, they started with writing and they quietly touched on life experiences, Wan Fang brought up “sincerity”, “choice”, “confusion”, which were exactly the things that Xiao Zhan was facing, and it showcased the strength of two eras resonating with each other. This was exactly the effect Wang Keran was looking for.

He used Xiao Zhan, but rejected using this as a major publicity point, because “we do not want so much traffic, we want strength.”

Wan Fang explained the meaning of “pain” for an actor to Xiao Zhan – “All that you have experienced, including pain, I feel that there will be a chance to portray its positive side. When you are portraying a certain character, you will be able to have a deeper understanding.”

She also used the same feeling to describe the creativity rush that “pain” bestowed upon her – “If your life is especially happy, especially joyful, then you might not have thought of creating anything, because you just need to enjoy what you have, no one would ask – why am I so happy? Only when you are in adversity, then you would have many questions, what is this for? What should I do? This is the source of creativity.”

This type of questioning can be seen throughout Wan Fang’s “You and I”, as she remembers her parents. She once said to her younger sister, the main pursuit of writing this book was truth. Her sister rebutted, “What you know isn’t really the truth, only fragments.”

Although Wan Fang agreed with this opinion, she also felt, “I must find it between these fragments. Truth exists from seeking it, isn’t the act of seeking a form of truth?”

She admitted that she is a “limited” “truthful” author. In this book, she never conclusively tells you how the experiences of Cao Yu was like. She even inserted blurred memories from different people. Readers would not be able to see the truth directly, but they could feel the realism of the memories.

Wan Fang split her creative works into two parts – one belonging to TV dramas, “There will be stray thoughts, the audience would be considered, the ratings would be considered”; and another belonging to literature and theater. There she wrote from her heart, realistically using her emotions then and her questions then. She always believed that “things with stray thoughts, won’t be really good things.”

How do you move the audience with works written so personally by the author?

“I cannot represent everything, but I can represent many. As long as you have an understanding of the truth behind human nature, you can try your best to understand, to explore, the expression of truth can represent many people.”

Wang Keran rejected using “lead” to describe the meaning of theater in culture – because leading is a form of education, but theater is not. It never wanted to conclude anything, it only wanted to be the path to truth, to soothe the bewilderment of humans, to express the depth of souls.

Just like that day, Wan Fang answered Xiao Zhan, “What is the core of a piece of work? It is questions. The process of creating a piece of work is a process of questioning, just a journey of nearing the answer, of finding the answer.”

And in questions, there are infinitely vast and rich nutrients, enriching the souls of humans.

[hermits-that-craft]

I’m Not Good For Anyone Here - Vent Fic

AO3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/30401013 Warning: Angst without a happy ending, vent fic.

Walking home always sucks. Walking home in the rain, carrying important exam papers sucks even more. 

He hates this, when Techno and Wilbur decide to drive to study sessions after school. He knows that the pair of them would offer him a ride to the sessions, hell, he knows that the second it starts to rain where they are he’ll get a text asking if he’s gotten home alright. If he’s dry and warm.

He’s really sick of walking in the rain though. Especially while he’s holding the best exam result he’s even gotten. Every single paper over 70% correct, one paper even being a nineteen and a half out of twenty. He has to show Techno, Wilbur and Phil this. They might finally be proud of him. He studied so hard to get these marks.

His backpack is hunched under him, and his hoodie is held as a shield against the rain. He has earphones in, but he isn’t properly listening to the music. He’s watching how the street lights reflect in wet pavement, how fireplaces flicker in the fireplaces, only just visible from outside. The smell of sweet smoke as people burn apple wood to warm their homes. Someone cooks a chicken, and Tommy can smell it from outside.

He keeps his head down and continues walking. 

His house isn’t that far from where he stands, a short ten minute walk is all that's in between him and a cold, empty house. Phil doesn’t get off work until seven tonight, and Wilbur and Techno said that they’d bring home dinner at six. It’s ten to four now, and Tommy’s got two hours to fill in before his family gets home.

He makes the final stretch in silent contemplation, Sorry Boris playing as he unlocks the door. Tommy used to be so excited to get home, to have Phil waiting with a warm towel as he walks in the door wet. To have Techno and Wilbur laughing, but making sure that the bathroom’s set up for the young boy who went to play outside in the rain. He misses being a kid. Techno and Wilbur’s university might only be a few blocks away from his highschool, but it feels like the universe itself is stopping him from seeing them.

The house is cold, and Tommy doesn’t bother telling anyone that he’s home. He walks to the heater, pressing a few buttons before the vents in the house start to pump out warm air. Taking his shoes off in the hall, he lays them carefully near the vent, hoping that they’ll dry enough before tomorrow morning. Autumn is one of his favourite seasons, but he could go without the chill, without the rain.

He carefully lays his exams out on the kitchen table, praying to himself that they’ll dry. Unpacking his bag, Tommy looks out of the window. Droplets of water hit the window, rolling down them before landing gently on the ground. It’s gotten heavier, and the dull drumming on the roof makes Tommy yawn. Sleep’s siren call beckons him, but he wrangles himself from its arms as he walks up the stairs, removing his saturated hoodie as he collects his warmest clothes. It’s warm, too warm for Tommy’s mind to cope, and he sinks to the floor on the carpeted floor in his bedroom, softer than he’s ever noticed before. 

He’s not going to fall asleep, he’s just taking a short break. He doesn’t hear his phone buzzing on the kitchen table. He doesn’t hear the landline ring as someone tries to contact him. He doesn’t feel the sweat that drips down his forehead. He doesn’t feel the cold rain water soak the carpet underneath him. He doesn’t notice how none of the lights are on in his home. He doesn’t hear anything except the drumming of rain. He doesn’t see anything except the blue glow from outside. He doesn’t feel anything, except the warmth from the heater.

---

“He better be studyingI swear to god that child never answers his phone.” Wilbur grumbles as he pushes the door open with his elbow, carrying two bags off KFC that the twins bought for dinner. “He left the door unlocked, Tech!”

“He never does that?” Techno questions, carrying in their textbooks under several layers of outerwear. “At least we know he got home alright. Why did you turn off all the lights?”

“I didn’t turn off any of the lights, why the fuck would I do that?” Wilbur shoots back, turning on the kitchen light. 

The twins stare in shock at the state of the kitchen and dining rooms. Exam papers are laid carefully on the table, inky running to the point of it becoming illegible, and Tommy’s backpack and items are strewn across the kitchen in some kind of mad haze. Techno quirks an eyebrow, and Wilbur puts the food on the bench.

“Must have gotten shitty scores, I guess.” Techno says monotonously. “I’ll give him some of my desert. Should cheer him up.”

“I’ll also make sure to give him the ‘you're talented in non academic areas, I know you studied hard but don’t get up yourself about it.’ speech too.” Wilbur rolls his eyes. “We all know he didn’t study hard enough, though.”

“Oh definitely.” Techno agrees, leaning against the counter as Wilbur quickly tidies the kitchen. “He spent so much time on call with those other two - Tubbo and Ranboo, right? - that he probably brought them down with him.”

“I’ll make sure to mention that subtly in the speech.” Wilbur smiles. “Don’t want him to feel guilty about dragging other people down with him in the future, you know?”

“I’ll find Up, we can watch that as we eat, maybe that’ll cheer him up as well.” Techno considers, moving into the living room. Wilbur nods, and Techno watches his twin exit the kitchen, walking up the stairs to the bedrooms.

Techno pulls a few blankets out from the corner near the windows. After grabbing a few pillows, he puts the comforting items on one of the lounges. Techno walks out of the living room, grabbing a few chips from the bag before he goes to check the message bank for the landline.

He notices Tommy’s phone sitting on the bench, no charge left of it. Techno sighs, putting it onto the family charging station in the kitchen. At least now when Tommy walks home stubbornly, he won’t be able to ignore them. Really, why wouldn’t the teen just walk to Techno and Wilbur’s university? It’s only a few blocks away from his school.

“Tommy’s asleep.” Wilbur says, rolling his eyes. “Fell asleep on the floor.”

“Must’ve been a big tantrum then.” Techno offers, laughing under his breath. “Why didn’t he lock the door before he fell asleep?”

“Probably forgot. Teenagers, you know?” Wilbur smirks. “I’ll put his food into the microwave, lets watch something good tonight.”

“Murder documentries?”

“Unsolved murder documentries.”

---

Tommy didn’t wake up when Phil got home. He didn’t wake up when he was lifted into bed. He didn’t even stir when Phil came in to wish him good night. Tommy didn’t wake up when Wilbur came in at nine pm, nervously checking on the teen. He didn’t wake when Techno silently walked in, checking his pulse. He didn’t stir as Techno and Wilbur fight over Mario Kart, or when Phil shouts at them to just shut up, Tommy must be exhausted to have fallen asleep so early.

Tommy doesn’t wake when his alarm goes off at six thirty the next morning. He doesn’t wake as Wilbur and Techno drag themselves out of bed, getting ready for eight am classes. He doesn’t wake as Phil makes them all breakfast. He doesn’t wake as Wilbur shouts at him to get up, he’s going to make them all late. He doesn’t wake when Techno shouts at him.

He stirs when Phil comes into the room, but he doesn’t wake.

He stirs as Phil checks his temperature, but he doesn’t wake. He doesn’t wake when Wilbur comes in, nervously holding his phone, ready to call an ambulance. He doesn’t wake when Phil says that its just a fever, probably the flu. He doesn’t wake when Phil asks if they knew if Tommy walked in the rain yesterday. He doesn’t wake when the twins get yelled at for not immediately checking to see if Tommy was alright after Wilbur found him sleeping on the floor.

His eyes slowly blink open to arguing, but Tommy can’t hear anything. It’s like he’s being held underwater, the words muffled and the pressure like hands around his throat. Is he drowning? No, he can’t be. It’s too warm, too hot, for him to be drowning. Water is cold. If it’s falling form the sky its cold. If he’s drowning, it has to be cold. Why waste warm water on someone you want to drown?

“It looked like he just threw a tantrum, Phil! We thought he tired himself out and just fell asleep, we didn’t think he was sick!” Wilbur yells, and Tommy’s eyes darken. “He got a bad exam result, we thought he chucked a hissy fit and then went to sleep!”

“You still should have checked on him!” Phil shoots back, and Tommy nearly flinches. It’s too loud, his head feels like it’ll split in two.

“Wil did! We thought he would wake up soon after, that's why we didn’t move him! Oh, and you should expect a call from Schlatt and Eret, because Tommy distracted Tubbo and Ranboo while he was ‘studying’ for those exams he failed.” Techno joins in the arguing, and Tommy stares at his ceiling. His exam results were good, why would they say that Tommy got bad marks back.

Tommy groans, loud enough for the room to pause. The trio look at Tommy, wide eyes making him want to sink back under the warm water he was drowning in earlier. At least then the anger in their eyes won't be directed at him. Drowning was so much easier, so much warmer.

“Sh’up.” Tommy slurs. “G’way.”

“You’re sick, Toms.” Phil says, gently sitting down on the bed. “You need to eat, get some water into you. Then we’ll go.”

“No.” Tommy glares, pathetically, at Phil. “No’ungry. Go’ay.”

Phil sighs, standing and running a hand through Tommy’s hair. The man says something akin to a promise as he leaves the room, ushering Wilbur and Techno out with him. Tommy doesn’t hear it, doesn’t care to hear it. Not when he fully understands what Wilbur said. Not when neither Techno or Phil jumped to his defense. 

They really think that he failed his exams. That he’s the failure of their family. They think he didn’t study enough, that he dragged Ranboo and Tubbo down with him. They probably think that he’s ruined his friends lives by asking for their help on assignments. At least his friends don’t laugh at him when he doesn’t know the estimated date that Kythera blew up like Techno does, or talk about him behind his back when he doesn’t understand a question like Wilbur does. Did he not properly save his exams? He thought that they’d be proud of him, sure, the pair of them were all over 80% anyways, but getting himself over 70% made his teachers proud.

Tubbo, Ranboo, Purpled and Hannah were proud when he told them, and Eret sent him a text with ‘congrats’ written on it at lunch, after he picked up Ranboo. Schlatt had given him a pat on the back when he picked up Tubbo as well. Even Sam, Hannah’s dad, and Ponk, Purpled older brother, told him that he was doing well. He thought that Wilbur and Techno would be proud. That they’d finally see that he was trying. Why doesn’t any of them see that he’s trying? He’s trying to get better, to be better than that annoying adolescent that failed his classes and got into fights. He’s trying so damn hard, and the only people that notice are the ones who aren't related to him. Tommy’s spent so much time trying to love himself too, but maybe his family never loved himself in the first place. Just pitied him.

With those upsetting thoughts, Tommy lets himself drown again.

---

Phil comes back in, a plate toast in hand, to find Tommy staring at the ceiling, tears falling down his cheeks. Phil nearly drops the plate, worry crossing his features. The toast is gently placed on Tommy’s bedside table, balancing precariously on a stack of textbooks. Phil sits down next to Tommy, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Phil soothes, trying to figure out why his youngest son is crying. “What's wrong, what hurts? We can get some pain killers, it’s alright.”

“I want to go home.” Tommy chokes out. “I don’t want to be here anymore, I want to go home.”

“You are home.” Phil insists, panic forming in his chest.

“I want to go home.” Tommy sobs, and Techno and Wilbur stand watch in the doorway, tears falling down their cheeks. “I want to go home, I want to go home. I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore. I wanna go home.”

Tommy’s head flops against his pillow, his pleas to leave no longer falling from his lips as he falls into a deep slumber. Wilbur wraps his arms around himself, his eyes wide and tear filled. Techno reaches towards Phil, silently asking for a hug. Phil wraps his eldest pair into a hug, trying to sooth them.

“It’s just a fever, right? He’s just delirious, he doesn’t know where he is.” Techno rambles, watching Tommy’s chest rise and fall. “This is normal. Normal Tommy symptoms of a cold.”

“But he’s already home. He’s already home.” Wilbur mumbles. “What does he mean by ‘I can’t do this anymore’. He isn’t- We can’t-”

“Wilbur-”

“Tommy won’t die. He isn’t depressed, right? He’s just delirious because of the fever, he’s going to be back and loud and happy and annoying and-”

“Wilbur, take a deep breath in.” Phil says, exaggerating his breathing. Wilbur copies, shakily. “And out.” Phil waits until his eldest finishes, smiling with false bravado. “Good job. Could you go and buy some cold and flu medicine with Techno now? Something that tastes nice if you can?”

A simple task, to pull the pair of them away from Tommy. To let them both calm down, but not force them to separate. It’s clear, from the way that Techno’s shoulders relax, and the way that Wilbur stands up straighter, that both of them are relieved by the small task. They flee the room, and Phil sinks into Tommy’s desk chair, holding onto his sons hand as he waits for the fever to break.

---

Tommy wakes, at least, he thinks he does. His head is filled with cotton, and his throat is filled with gravel and glass. He’s drowning in warmth, in blankets, and his hair is plastered to his head with sweat - or is it water?

Tommy doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what time of day it is, or why he feels so bad. He struggles to make his eyes focus on his alarm clock, partially hidden behind his textbooks, to make out the time on the glowing red digits. There’s a plate with cold toast on it, and some water with two white pills besides the water. Pain killers. There’s a note as well, but Tommy’s eyes wont focus properly. Everything is grainy, but the grains all move to wherever he’s focusing, so he can’t read anything.

He does know that he wakes up alone.

Tommy takes the medicine, cringing at the bitter taste, before standing up. He can’t be late for school, he needs to take notes. He can’t fail. His family might already think that he’s a failure, but Tommy won’t fail them again. Tommy takes one step forward, feeling proud of himself

Before he’s on the floor again, the world spinning before his eyes.

Oh well, that's what he gets for waking up in an empty house.

[carewyncromwell]

((Previously on “Quest for the Quidditch Cup”...))

At long last, the long-awaited Quidditch Final had arrived. There was an astounding energy in the air, the likes of which could only have been built up over the course of years. Slytherin hadn’t been so close to winning the Quidditch Cup in a decade, and all of the students lined up in the green-and-silver-decked stands were pumped up.

As the crowd roared, commentator Murphy McNully took hold of the megaphone, his dynamic voice booming out over the stands effortlessly.

“Witches and wizards! Professors, students, caretakers...Mrs. Norris! The time has come! The match that will decide which House team wins the Quidditch Cup is upon us!”

Murphy directed his gaze to the entrance of the Quidditch pitch.

“Presenting your reigning Quidditch champions...Ravenclaw!”

Seven blurs dressed in blue robes slashed through the air, fluttering around the goal hoops at the left end of the pitch and over the blue-decked Ravenclaw stands. They came to a halt in their starting positions, with Andre as Keeper guarding the three goal hoops and their three Chasers at the center of the pitch, with Erika Rath and her Beater cohort flanking their left and their Seeker on their right.

“And the challengers to the title,” said Murphy, unable to hide his clear excitement, “...Slytherin!”

The Slytherin stands began to cheer as their seven players flew out onto the field like emerald-colored hawks in flight.

Carewyn felt like her ears had been completely stoppered by the deafening applause from her house. She flew in formation as she’d seen the Slytherin team do many times before from the audience, stopping near the center of the pitch with Orion and Cara, while Night and Quinn flew to their right and Kaylisa stayed on their left. Ashok had already separated from them, no doubt heading for the Slytherin goal posts.

“Two teams, vying for the Quidditch Cup trophy and glory for their house!” cried Murphy. “Who will be victorious?”

The entire stands were in a frenzy now. Carewyn glanced at the red and yellow sections that belonged to the two houses not competing. She was surprised how many green-and-silver banners she saw -- even Gryffindor, which usually considered Slytherin their mortal enemy, had a few.

‘I guess there are some Gryffindors who want Ravenclaw to lose even more than they dislike us,’ thought Carewyn dryly.

When she looked at the Gryffindor stands more carefully, though, she was a bit taken aback.

One of the largest green and silver banners was being held by a familiar young man with a ginger ponytail, a “C”-initialed maroon sweater, and an army green jacket.

“KICK THEIR SORRY ARSES, CAREY!” Carewyn could just barely make out what Charlie was mouthing as he waved up at her.

Jae, who was sitting on Charlie’s right side, waved too. Ben, who was on Charlie’s left, didn’t wave, instead sitting back with his arms crossed and looking very focused -- he was probably a bit nervous, but trying to show a brave face all the same.

Carewyn waved down at them, her red lips spreading into a tiny smile too.

“Referee Madame Hooch steps out onto the field!”

Murphy’s lively commentary brought Carewyn back down to earth. She turned away from the stands, facing the Ravenclaws on the opposite end of the Quidditch pitch.

Carewyn immediately met Rath’s eyes. The Ravenclaw Beater’s gaze was as fierce as a tiger’s.

Carewyn met that gaze with a steely blue look of her own.

‘I might not have any bad feelings toward you, Rath...but I will NOT let you get in the way of us winning this match.’

“The Bludgers are up!” cried Murphy. “As is the Golden Snitch!”

Carewyn watched both Bludgers bounce off through the air. She thought she saw the Snitch too, but the flicker of gold moved so fast that she had no idea what direction it was heading in before it disappeared completely.

The Snitch, however, wasn’t her focus. Her “gold” at the moment -- if one followed the idea of being as tenacious as a Niffler -- was the scarlet-colored ball Madame Hooch lifted out of the Quidditch trunk with both hands. Her hawk-like eyes drifted from Ravenclaw to Slytherin to back again: then, abruptly, she flung it up into the air.

“The Quaffle is released -- AND WE’RE OFF!”

Immediately one of the Ravenclaw Chasers, Liddell, snatched up the Quaffle. Before she could get far, however, Cara swerved in front of her to block her -- Carewyn then barrel-rolled up from below, snatching the Quaffle out of Liddell’s hands, darting back toward the Ravenclaw goal posts.

“Cromwell’s taken hold of the Quaffle -- moving up the pitch -- she just barely dodges Urquart when he tries to steal! She passes to O’Donnell -- O’Donnell passes back to Cromwell, avoiding Liddell -- Cromwell passes to Amari -- Amari heads for the goal hoops -- ooh hoo! Amari whips out his trademark move, Inspired Broom Surfing! He weaves -- he shoots -- score! Slytherin takes an early lead, 10-0!”

It was incredible how much faster a real Quidditch match felt, in comparison to the friendlies Carewyn usually played in. It felt like there was never any time to breathe -- as soon as one goal was scored, you almost immediately had to try to find a way to snatch the Quaffle back again, purely due to how fast the turnover was between rounds. Soon Ravenclaw and Slytherin were at each other’s throats, with their Chasers fighting over the Quaffle as if it were made of pure gold.

“Cromwell’s in possession -- Rath hits a Bludger at Cromwell -- yes! Cromwell dodges! That could’ve been nasty! Cromwell still in possession, Urquart and Trotter on her tail -- passes to Ama -- NO! Intercepted by Liddell! Liddell’s taking the Quaffle back up the field, toward the Slytherin goal posts -- dodges a Bludger hit by Rhea -- O’Donnell tries to steal -- OUCH! O’Donnell just barely avoids another Bludger hit by Rath -- Liddell in possession, she shoots -- score! 10 points to Ravenclaw! Slytherin still leads 80-60!”

‘We need an at least 70 point lead,’ Carewyn recalled.

She glanced at the Slytherin stands. Somewhere down there, she knew Skye was watching.

Her bright red lips spread into a huge smirk, and in a second, she’d flown after Orion, flying alongside him.

“Orion, let’s pince him!”

Orion’s smirk was even whiter and brighter than Carewyn’s as he took off again. Nearly in tandem, he flew down and slammed his side up against Urquart’s right side, while Carewyn pinned him on his left. Having figured out what her fellow Chasers were up to, Cara dived right at them, knocking Urquart up off his broom from below and making him drop the Quaffle as he struggled to regain his posture.

“A perfectly executed Parkin’s Pincer! Skye Parkin must be full to the brim with pride! O’Donnell’s in possession -- passes to Amari -- he Broom-Surfs up and over Trotter -- passes to Cromwell! Ooh, but it looks like Cromwell’s got Urquart and Trotter on her tail again -- how’s she gonna get out of this?”

‘Buzz off!’ Carewyn thought with an irritable glance over her shoulder at the two male Ravenclaw Chasers.

Her blue eyes narrowing, she kept her focus straight ahead, heading straight for Andre at the goal posts. Andre was already guarded, preparing to block her if she shot the Quaffle at the center hoop --

‘Sorry, Andre -- can’t play nice today!’

Just when she should’ve thrown the Quaffle, Carewyn flew right past the goal hoops, drifting backward on her Comet broom so she could loop around in a backwards “C” and shoot for the far left hoop instead.

“WHOA! Cromwell both shakes off the Chasers and sideswipes the Keeper with broom-drifting! 10 points to Slytherin! Slytherin leads 90-60!”

There was an electricity in the air. It crackled not just through the stands but through the Slytherin team themselves, energizing them and making them feed off of each other’s enthusiasm in a seemingly endless feedback loop. Soon they were all bouncing off each other.

Carewyn swooped in to help Ashok defend his right goal hoop by knocking the Quaffle out of the way with her broom so Cara could catch it and take it back up the pitch. Night tossed her Beater’s bat to Orion so he could defend himself from a Bludger hit by Ravenclaw’s other Beater, Crane. And with every passing minute, Slytherin’s Chasers kept scoring -- 100 points -- 110 -- 120 --

“Score! 10 points to Slytherin! Slytherin leads Ravenclaw 130 to 60!”

The Slytherin stands were in a frenzy by now. If their team caught the Snitch now, they’d actually win the Quidditch Cup!

The Ravenclaws seemed to sense that the tide had fully turned against them. Despite their best efforts to take down Slytherin’s Chasers, Cara, Orion, and Carewyn were too strong of a unit for them to pick apart. Even though Andre had always been a talented Keeper, Ravenclaw’s Chasers just couldn’t keep up with Slytherin’s, and Andre could only do so much to prevent them from scoring on his own. But as long as Ravenclaw caught the Snitch before Slytherin did, the Slytherin Chasers’ work would be all for naught --

Carewyn had taken her position in center field, just as planned, while Cara and Orion played keep-away with the Quaffle. It was as she watched the perimeter that she spotted Kaylisa going into a sharp dive.

‘She’s seen the Snitch!’

Carewyn shot her head around, looking for Quinn and Night. Night had hurried to protect Ashok from a Bludger hit by Crane -- Quinn was closer, but had been forced to smack the other Bludger at Liddell before she could steal the Quaffle from Cara, so she was still about fifty feet away.

“CARA!” Carewyn bellowed.

Cara caught sight of Carewyn waving widely up at her. Unfortunately Carewyn hadn’t been the only one to spot Kaylisa -- Rath had too. The Ravenclaw Beater dived, heading straight for the Slytherin Seeker.

Once Cara spotted Kaylisa and Rath, she chucked the Quaffle at Orion, who immediately tore off toward the goal hoops, while she quickly flew up to get Quinn’s attention.

“QUINN!” Carewyn just barely made out Cara yelling. “CENTER FIELD, RIGHT EDGE!”

“ON IT!” Quinn shouted back.

The Slytherin Beater dived. Carewyn watched anxiously as Quinn flew as fast as she could toward them -- Rath was coming up on Kaylisa very fast -- she was only about twenty feet away now -- fifteen -- Rath looked up and around, and then down at Kaylisa -- she raised her bat --

‘Quinn’s not going to make it!’ Carewyn thought in alarm. ‘And Rath’s too close -- even if I try to distract her now, she’ll see me long before I reach her!’

Kaylisa had stretched out her hand -- Rath swung her bat up over her head --

Carewyn made up her mind very quickly.

‘There’s no other choice!’

Charlie being knocked off his broom in the last Quidditch Final flitting through her mind, Carewyn flew out from the perimeter, not at Rath, but so that she would be on a collision course with the Bludger Rath smacked at Kaylisa.

Unfortunately, Carewyn had waited just a tiny bit too long. Rather than ending up in the same position Charlie had been in the last Quidditch Final and getting knocked off her broom when the Bludger collided with her back, the Bludger instead slammed full-force into Carewyn’s chest.

“URGH!”

Carewyn somehow managed to subconsciously wrap her arms around both her broom and the Bludger in a hug-like vice grip as she fell. She landed four feet below, landing in a crumpled heap on her side.

Somewhere very, very far above her, Carewyn could hear Murphy’s voice ringing out like an excitable cluster of church bells.

“UNBELIEVABLE! CROMWELL INTERCEPTS THE BLUDGER HIT BY RATH, ALLOWING FORTESCUE TO CATCH THE SNITCH! SLYTHERIN WINS! SLYTHERIN WINS THE QUIDDITCH CUP!”

The Bludger wrenched itself out of Carewyn’s arms and squiggled away through the air.

Carewyn coughed, her arms still clutched around herself tightly. The upper left side of her chest was throbbing with pain.

‘I really shouldn’t have done that,’ she thought to herself grumpily.

She tried to get up, but she couldn’t quite figure out what way was up. Her heart was beating so fast -- she gasped for air, clutching her chest that bit more tightly as she tried to get up again.

“Carewyn! Carewyn, are you okay?!”

Quinn’s voice echoed overheard. Carewyn blinked up at the navy-haired Beater, offering her bravest, prettiest smile.

“Ow...now everyone...can see why I’m not a Beater...”

The last word came out of her throat very badly. Carewyn choked, trying to get a better breath, but it came out as a wheeze -- she hacked up some dark liquid onto the sleeve of her Quidditch robes --

“Carewyn!”

Quinn’s voice sounded panicked.

“WE NEED A HEALER! GET US SOME HELP HERE, NOW!”

The world was spinning -- Carewyn’s heart was pounding in her ears so loudly, it almost deafened her to the sounds of the cheering crowd somewhere far above them --

“Carewyn!”

“Carewyn!”

Was that Kaylisa and Night? Carewyn wasn’t quite sure...she thought she saw several emerald-colored blurs diving toward her, but she couldn’t tell who they were -- one of the blurs collided with the ground very sharply several feet away, while the other three all landed right next to her, coming right up beside her --

“Help me carry her!”

“Orion, help us -- ”

“We’ve got you, Carewyn -- ”

“Careful -- ”

“Orion!”

The female voices overhead were all blurring together, dissolving away into the loudly echoing heartbeat in her ears. Soon Carewyn couldn’t hear them at all -- she couldn’t see them at all -- and she knew no more.

((OOC: Sorry for the cliffhanger. Next update’s tonight/tomorrow morning, I promise. T.T

MC Slytherin players included are, once again, Cara O’Donnell @unfortunate-arrow​, Night Rhea @nightrhea-hphm​, and Sabrina “Quinn” Mercurenius @danceworshipper​!))

[fandomlurker]

A Ponderous Rewatch: Battle for the Planet and Cameos

You know, I keep trying to be minimal with the amount of images I put in these posts, but I think it’s kind of a losing battle…especially when it comes to episodes animated by TMS like the second one coming later on today. I can’t help it, some of the expressions and poses are just too good to not be shared.

In any case, let’s begin with one very small cameo appearance in “Space Probed”:

Our little duo have apparently found themselves abducted by aliens, only to be kept in lab conditions much like the one on Earth at ACME Labs. This is one of those times where I wish I could know the production order of these episodes and not just the air date order… Why? Well, because this small cameo could potentially line up really well with an upcoming episode. Just keep that in mind for now.

With that out of the way, we move on to our next full skit:

And we begin with the Brain expositing to Pinky about how he came up with the plan for this episode.

“Halloween, Pinky: 1938. Mercury Radio Theatre presented an adaptation of H. G. Wells’ ‘War of the Worlds’ that was so realistic, people actually fled the cities believing that creatures from Mars were attacking the Earth. It proved that radio was a powerful tool…and now, Pinky, the advance of technology has brought us an even more powerful tool. Do you know what that is?”

Before we move on, how many of you reading this have heard about this? And how many of you know that this is actually an incident that happened in real life? Yes, people actually fled their homes after hearing this broadcast. Not a lot of people, of course. Not by a long shot. Most just made panicked phone calls to their local police station or to the radio station itself to find out what was really going on. The incident also wasn’t nationwide or anything like that, it was quite local. If anything, the radio play caused much more outrage after the fact than initial panic.

Another amusing anecdote is that Orson Welles was the man who directed, narrated, and played a main character in the broadcast. For those of you who may not be in the know, although Brain was initially based on animator and writer Tom Minton at Warner Brothers, Brain’s voice actor Maurice LaMarche based his voice on Orson Welles. Or, well, as Mr. LaMarche puts it: “The Brain is 70 percent Welles, 20 percent Vincent Price, and I don't know, there's another 10 percent of something else in there. I don't know what. Some people think it's Peter Lorre. I don't know what it is.”.

Strong references aside, I’m betting most of you can see the massive holes in the Brain’s plan already. Hoo boy…

“Umm… The rubber band?”

“The workings of your mind are a mystery to me, Pinky.”

“Ooo! I love a good mystery, Brain!”

You know, this little sequence with Brain nonchalantly stretching the rubber band while walking away from Pinky and Pinky determinedly holding on until Brain lets go off camera and sends Pinky flying is… Well, I don’t know what it is about it, but it’s kind of cute in a weird slapstick way? Like, it’s hard to tell if Brain did that on purpose to send Pinky flying for not understanding his plan…or if he actually wanted Pinky to follow him and tried to lead him to where he was walking but Pinky thought it was some kind of tug-o-war game and Brain got exasperated and let go of the rubber band.

Either way, Pinky doesn’t seem to mind.

“Television, Pinky, is our new tool!”

“We will pirate the airwaves and stage a hoax like ‘War of the Worlds’!”

Brain, you’re very good with that lasso. I’m impressed!

“Three cameras, Brain?”

“Yes… A technique pioneered by the great Desi Arnaz. And with them we will scare the people of the cities, leaving no resistance behind. We will have taken over the world!”

Well, Brain, that technique first being used by Desi Arnaz is a myth (it was more than likely actually pioneered by Jerry Fairbanks around 1947), but I’m going to give you a pass on this because you likely couldn’t fact check this very well at the time.

I do have to give Brain credit for being as dramatic as possible while announcing his plan, though. He really does know how to put on a show.

“Egad, Brain, brilliant!”

And Pinky is, as usual, full of praise and extremely excited about the plan. Look at him clapping and hopping around, aww… I’m starting to think that half the reason Brain goes through with these long, expository explanations of his plans to Pinky despite Pinky not quite following along a lot of the time is just to impress Pinky. Brain needs reassurance and Pinky always provides.

“Oh! Oh, wait, no, no…”

“Why would they be scared of us? We’re so small and we’re practically the size of mice, Brain.”

“We are mice, Pinky.”

“Oh, right! Well, there you are, then. Eh heh heh…”

…Okay, so, Pinky also tends to deflate the praise a bit when pointing out potential flaws in the plan like this, but it’s the initial thought that counts.

Yeah, I know, Brain. I know. But Pinky really is trying to be helpful.

“It’s not a question of size, Pinky. It’s a question of scale! Watch the monitor.”

“*gasp* Zounds, Brain! You’re gigantic!”

“Television, Pinky: The Great Deceptor!”

“Narf~…”

No, you aren’t seeing things. Pinky just…just stands there in front of the TV looking at live footage of a close-up of Brain and sighs in awe and affection while clasping his little hands together. I don’t even think I need to make a “Fellas, is it gay to--?” joke here. All that’s missing is little hearts appearing around his head.

We cut to a little while later, where the duo has everything set up for their broadcast. It looks like Pinky must have done the lettering for their props, since it actually looks decent and nothing like Brain’s scrawlings. Yes, I’m going to continue roasting Brain’s terrible penmanship. It amuses me.

“How is my disguise, Pinky?”

“OH! Is that you, Brain?!?”

“You flatter me, Pinky. Now, throw the switch and let us begin…the Battle for the Planet!”

Title drop! Also, aww. To be fair, Brain, I’m not sure Pinky was intending to be flattering so much as he was actually unsure if that really was you or not. But the fact that you took it as flattery is very telling, I think.

Pinky throws the switch, and the plan is officially underway!

According to the Animaniacs wiki, these people bear a striking resemblance to Elmyra’s family. If that’s what was intended, this is quite the early omen for the horrible “Pinky, Elmyra, and the Brain” spin-off that was made after the regular PatB spin-off. I don’t think I’m going to fully cover that show in the far future. It’s not the fun kind of terrible…it’s just terrible.

Oh hey, they were watching Family Matters! Too bad this is many, many years before they could bear witness to Dark Urkle Tribute.

And there’s Ralph, enjoying coffee and a doughnut.

And…some TV station broadcast folks. It kinda bothers me that these two basically have the same model except for different hair colours.

“We interrupt your regular broadcast to bring you this important news bulletin…”

“What is that?!”

“Someone’s pirated the TV lines!”

“Scientists have just reported that a large, unidentified flying object seems to be heading towards Earth. There is no cause for alarm…”

“…But there probably will be.”

Subtle, Brain.

Oh, hi, Warners! You certainly picked a good time to escape tonight.

“We take you now to our satellite view of the planet, perhaps to catch a glimpse of this fearful courier of the unknown.”

Cue Pinky making ridiculous “shoosh” and “shoom” and “weee!~” noises. Very convincing.

“I’ve just received word that the UFO is about to crash land nearby. There should be a great explosion!”

“I said, THERE SHOULD BE A GREAT EXPLOSION!”

“Hmm? Oh! OH, right, Brain! Narf!”

Nice blep, pinky.

Somehow, people watching the broadcast are still terrified. I’ve gotta admit that I didn’t expect this plan to go this well for this long.

…Okay, maybe I spoke too soon.

“Sorry, Brain…”

“…We’ll go live to the crash site momentarily.”

He says before near-instantly cutting to the “crash site”, still in the same disguise. Brain, honey, I know you’re probably trying to reduce broadcast downtime so that the audience doesn’t start to question what they’re seeing, but you do know that quick cuts like this ruin the illusion of this being a live broadcast…right?

Oh, who am I kidding? Of course he doesn’t know that. As usual, Brain has tunnel vision and expects his plans to go one certain way, and any details that don’t fit his internal narrative are discarded or not even thought about.

Just let me slide on in…

“I’m reporting to you live from the crash site and I…I’m at a loss for words. Can we get a shot of this very frightening scene?”

He’s right. That’s the most frightening…ly obvious cardboard spaceship I have ever seen.

But okay, I love these tiny prop improvisations they had to do. The bare cardboard wings taped to some kind of spray can for the body of the ship, a stray water cooler cup for the cone, test tubes for the thrusters, random little sewing pins for some kind of antenna, a dirty beige blanket to simulate soil for the crash zone… It’s so hastily cobbled together yet so goddamn cute.

Ralph still seems convinced that this is real, though that isn’t saying much.

“I am now positioned close to the…well, I can only assume that this is a vehicle from outer space, its occupants here to destroy the Earth.”

“Oooo!~ OoooOOOooo!~”

“Wait! There is a strange noise emanating from inside. Something seems to be coming out of the ship!”

They made a glove into an alien space suit with a tiny peephole to accommodate Pinky’s face and they fashioned a little belt from something for it, aaaaa! This is so adorable! Look at Pinky trying to be scary! He’s just all >:B throughout this entire scene.

BUG FOGGER

WARNING

CONTENTS UNDE

EXTREME PRESS

GAS

I’m wondering why they couldn’t label it as “bug spray”. I’ve honestly never heard of it being called “bug fogger”. Is that an American thing? (Also: Tiny sandbag wall!)

“Oh my! It’s hideous! Ladies and gentlemen, I can hardly describe this terrifying creature before me, except to say: Run for your lives! Go on! Empty the cities! Leave everything behind!”

“I…I don’t know how long I can stay on the air. I’ll try to get to our aerial view in chopper five!”

Okay, it seems even Elmyra’s family and the broadcast folks are still under the impression that this is actually happening. And Brain instantly cuts again to the aerial view. Brain, I think you’ve been watching too many movies.

“Chopper five, high above the city. The horrible creatures from Mars…invading…destroying everything in their path! Oh, the humanity!”

Since this is a still image the impact is lessened but Brain is rapidly beating his fist against his side to simulate the sound of helicopter blades and it’s actually pretty effective. Well done, lil guy, I never would’ve thought to do something like that. Your foley work is great!

The milk carton buildings still have straws in them to make chimneys! There’s little Chinese takeout boxes as buildings, too! I’m so charmed by all these quaint ways they’ve made their props.

Also, the Pinky-alien has apparently grown to kaiju size now, somehow. Brain, you’ve got to make your hoax at least a little consistent!

“This is no hoax, ladies and gentlemen. I urge you to run for your lives while you can! We’re not making this up just so we can take over the world!”

Goddamnit, Brain. You are the worst liar in the history of forever.

“Oh no! It’s heading this way! Run for your lives! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!”

I just thought these cowering poses Brain did were funny and cute. He is so small and vulnerable…

So Pinky starts to menace the camera itself and—

—Oops. This isn’t going to go well.

Poor, poor Pinky.

“We did it, Pinky. Brilliant performance!”

Holy shit, sincere praise from Brain! I’m sure Pinky will treasure it.

“Undoubtedly, the population has fled in fear from their ‘terrifying enemy’, HA!”

Umm. About that, Brain…

“Let us make haste…to The White House!”

Brain, you may want to at least wait a little while so that people can actually—

Ouch.

WOW, who needs Twitter in this universe when the press is this fast?

“’Battle for the Planet is a comedy smash… World laughs together. Stay home for this one!’”

“Pinky, are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

“Well, I think so, Brain…but if we didn’t have ears, we’d look like weasels.”

“[sighs] No, Pinky… Our hoax…no one went anywhere! No one fled the cities! They found us…humorous.”

If it helps any, boys, I also found you incredibly adorable.

“Where are you going, Brain?”

“Back to our cage, Pinky. We must plan for tomorrow night.”

“Why? What are we going to do tomorrow night?”

I like how Pinky is at first concerned about Brain’s mood and then we he sees that Brain is just walking home to plan for tomorrow night he’s bouncing on his tip-toes after him.

“The same thing we do every night, Pinky: Try to take over the world!”

TO BE CONTINUED because apparently Tumblr finds this post too long otherwise,