#the only thing keeping me sane is that he agreed that the box is cool LIKE HELL YEAH IT IS SO FUCKING COOL

[snallavanta]

MY BROTHER WATCHED MY VIDEO ABOUT ME UNBOXING THE SEVENTEEN ALBUM IM CRYING SOMEONE SAVE ME FROM EMBARRASSMENT

[ilikemesometaetaes]

Forbearance

Kim Seokjin Oneshot

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes​

•••> Summary: Give him a break, okay? Finding out his girlfriend’s bias wasn’t him is a pretty hard hit to the man’s ego. He has a right to be a little... possessive.

•••> Pairing(s): Seokjin/Reader

•••> Requested by Anon: “Hey love, I was wondering if I could request a oneshot where the reader is dating Seokjin, but he accidentally finds her old fangirl stuff and discovers he wasnt her bias and jhope was? And ya know he gets all jealous and possessive;) btw I love youu”

•••> Word Count: 4.41k [Unedited]

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Tags: smut | Established Relationship | Seokjin!au | Boyfriend!Seokjin | Jealous!Jin | strangers to friends to lovers | fishing buddies

•••> Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), forced orgasms, oversensitivity, dirty talk, our jin is a jealous boy, possessive!jin, idol!jin, cursing, alcohol use

Copyright © 2021 ilikemesometaetaes. All Rights Reserved.

Thank you for the request, anon! I thought it was just going to be a drabble, but I guess not! I hope you enjoy :)

~#~

Seokjin called for you from your old bedroom, feeling insecure about going through the things in your closet.

“It’s okay, babe! It should be in there somewhere!” You yelled back, obviously busying yourself with tonight’s dinner before you moved your stuff into your boyfriend’s home.

Seokjin’s lips spread into a tight line, clearly uncomfortable with the action of prying into your life before you met him. He was never one to judge character nor the one to actively seek out every detail about you. He respected your privacy and your boundaries enough to never ask, waiting until you were the one speaking about it.

It was what sparked the relationship between you two in the first place. A respect for privacy and the skill of having patience.

You had met him at a fishing beach; the sun was almost fully set and it seemed that Kim Seokjin needed some time away from the boys and the spotlight.

You were sitting in a camping chair, waiting for the telltale signs of a fish nipping at your line when you noticed the man walking over to the next open slot of shore rocks just five yards to your right.

Conversation was minimal, but being in a setting where patience was what kept a person sane meant that you were fully capable of waiting.

It was strange how you hadn’t noticed it was him. Of course, he wore a mask and sunglasses along with a baseball cap, but Kim Seokjin’s personality was seemingly unique and quite noticeable. The man who sat next to you was someone completely different.

He was quiet, patient, reserved, and outright plain. After a short conversation with him about how the fish were biting that day, you understood that the man went there for quiet- same as you. So you gave it to him.

You just couldn’t help but notice that he continued to sit next to you for the days to come. He would come out every other day or so and sit next to you, regardless of the amount of spots available around. You would talk about the weather affecting the fish, ponder over the current position of the moon to judge the tide, and then resume the silence. It was almost as if you were basking in each other’s quiet presence.

His voice, a familiar tone of inflection, was evasive. It seemed as if he was purposely lowering his voice to distort it, but you could never bring yourself to ask why. Instead, you settled on listening to him speak as his beautiful brown eyes cast a wistful gaze into the bay.

From what you could see, he was handsome. You could see his eyes when he took off his sunglasses at night and the occasional tuft of hair that stuck out from under his ball cap. His shoulders were incredibly broad, stretching every jacket and sweatshirt he wore almost to the extreme.

He sat in his chair like he had run a marathon, slouching so far that his long legs were almost entirely off of the seat. It looked as if the man was dreadfully exhausted.

Light conversation seemed to pick him up from his slump but you didn’t want to press too far, knowing that the man was undoubtedly hiding his identity. You were okay with this, practicing the patience you had learned from fishing throughout your everyday life.

Each time you spoke, the conversation slowly got further and further. The day that you got to talking about what he did for the day, you learned that he lived an active and busy lifestyle. He came to fish for the calm and relaxation- a break away from it.

After a little over a month of meeting with the man to enjoy the silence, he disappeared.

You never got a name; never got an age; you knew next to nothing about him.

You continued to show up in your usual spot, hating when someone else sat where he would, but you couldn’t be rude and tell them to move.

You weren’t going to stop your hobby of fishing just because he did, but it seemed as though your reason for going to fish had shifted. You had gone expecting to see him walk up with his tackle box and fishing rod at his usual time. You only found yourself disappointed when he didn’t.

Several months passed with no sign of your mystery man. Eventually, you had forgotten about him, his presence a mere, fleeting thought whenever you looked at his old spot.

The day he returned, he was almost unrecognizable under the light of the moon.

The cool spring weather had morphed into hot summer evenings and transitioned to chilly, late-summer-early-fall nights while he was absent. Instead of the basic black street clothes of the usual fashion that the young men of Korea wore, he was dressed professionally and warm.

A long, beige peacoat hung from his shoulders in a way that the width of the shoulder seams did not stretch and, instead, looked perfectly fitted as the length fell to his knees. He wore a black turtleneck that was tucked into black skinny jeans, secured into place by a brown belt with a pair of brown leather dress shoes to match.

He didn’t even wear a hat, revealing his light brown hair. All that remained of his old style was the black mask that he wore to cover his face.

The man held no tackle box in his hand; a cooler hung from his fingers and a camping chair was nudged under his arm. In the place of his fishing rod in the other hand was a small bouquet of flowers.

“Oh, thank god.” He breathed. “You’re still here.”

“Of course I’m still here.” You chuckled. “I’ve been coming here for years.”

He sat as you spoke, repeating the same actions with his chair as you had pictured him doing countless times in the past months. Your fishing buddy was finally back and looking as handsome as ever.

“Have you?” He huffed as he sat back in his chair. “I only just found out about this place back in April. It’s quite nice.”

“Yes, it is.” You agreed, turning your gaze to watch the lights from the nearby city reflect off the surface of the water. He wasn’t changing his voice anymore and you couldn’t help but recognize it immediately.

For a moment, you processed his presence- he was actually here. Then, you turned to him again with your eyes trained on the cluster of yellow flowers sat atop his small cooler, attempting to keep your cool.

“What’s the occasion?”

“A celebration of friendship.” He laughed to himself as he grabbed the bouquet and raised it to you, avoiding your gaze.

“A friendship?” You asked, taking them from his grasp and looking down at them. “These are very pretty. Thank you.”

“I figured it’s been a while since we met and you seem to be incredibly kind, so why not be friends?”

“I don’t mean to be rude- I’m totally cool with being friends with you- but I don’t even know your name.” You laughed, hoping that this would finally be the day he revealed himself.

“I’ll only tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“Easy.” You laughed. “My name is Y/N.”

“Please don’t... freak out or anything...” He muttered, raising his hand to take his mask off his face. Your heart beat wildly in anticipation.

As soon as he peeled the loop from his ear, your mouth slightly fell open on its own accord and you were suddenly starstruck by the fact that Kim Seokjin sat next to you.

“My name is Seokjin.” He kept his gaze lowered as if he was ashamed of his identity.

“I’m a huge fan.” You were speaking impulsively, unable to think about your words with the beautiful man so close to you. What else could you say?

“Oh, are you?” He asked, slowly lifting his gaze to meet your own.

“I am. It is very nice to meet you, Seokjin.” You were keeping yourself under control and you had no idea how, practically vibrating in your chair.

“And it’s nice to meet you too, Y/N.” Reaching into his cooler, he plucked out a bottle of soju and two shot glasses. “Care to share a drink over our newfound friendship?”

Grateful for the distraction, you took one of the glasses. “I’d love to.”

Your friendship with the idol bloomed. Under the strict condition that you never told anyone of your meeting spot- not that you wanted to or anything- you and Seokjin would continue to meet up on occasion and fish, sharing a drink or two and learning about each other.

When he found out about your love for his own band, he laughed and teased you for being a fangirl. When he continued to show up after the revelation, it exhumed ultimate trust that you couldn’t resist returning.

The other strict condition of your friendship was that you couldn’t meet anywhere but the beach. Six months of seeing the man you were gradually falling for in one spot became exhausting, but you couldn’t complain. Sure, you couldn’t go out for coffee or see a movie because of the fact that there were eyes everywhere, but you were okay with having your own little secluded paradise away from society.

It seemed that patience wasn’t one of Seokjin’s better traits, because even he came to complain about hanging out with you anywhere away from the brackish water.

One signed confidentiality agreement and an established set of rules later and he was being sneakily rushed into your already open front door so that the neighbors wouldn’t see him. It sort of reminded you of your younger days when you were sneaking a boy in so that your parents wouldn’t catch you.

His schedule wouldn’t allow you to see him more than two times a week, but it allowed for the two of you to retain a certain level of privacy that taught him more patience. Despite the lack of consistency, each time he came to see you sent butterflies into your stomach and a need to grow closer.

It only took a month of him visiting you before the media began getting suspicious of Jin’s whereabouts. His disappearances from his home to undisclosed locations drove the world into speculation of a solo career or a new music video- or a woman.

The more the rumors ran around, the less you saw of your friend.

It was hard to be apart from Seokjin, fully aware of the fact that you were falling for him. The idea that he could possibly have feelings for you was next to impossible to believe; all you were to him was a break away from the fame and cameras. Even as he rest his head on your shoulder with an arm around your waist while you watched a movie from your couch, you found it hard to believe there was a possibility for more.

You had the world in your embrace. How could you possibly ask for more?

A year of being friends with Seokjin proved to be the ultimate trial to test your patience. You never stepped out of line, hardly ever let yourself dream of being with him, but always imagined what it would feel like to press your lips to his gorgeously plump ones.

To say you passed the test was a decently literal way of putting it.

Exactly one year and two months of knowing Kim Seokjin, not including when he was a nameless man who you sat with, was all it took for him to start showing signs of more.

You sat in your usual spots on the beach, drinking soju, when he turned to you and asked if you ever thought of dating him.

“All the time.” You blurted in response, cursing under your breath immediately afterwards at your lack of hesitation.

Instead of responding, Seokjin burst out laughing. He tipped his head back and guffawed to the night sky but all you could do was laugh cautiously with him in confusion. Worry raised in your heart at the chance that you finally crossed the line even as you swooned over his endearing laugh.

“What are you laughing at?” You built up the courage to ask after he calmed a bit.

“I promise you that I am not laughing at you. I’m actually laughing at myself.” He wiped a building tear from the corner of his eye.

“Why?” You asked.

Instead of responding to your question, he turned to you with all hints of joking wiped clean by the serious expression on his face.

“Do you want to date me?”

You stopped breathing for a moment at his question, heart seemingly skipping a beat and fingers gripping your chair tightly in disbelief.

“W-what?” You stuttered.

“Please let me know if I’ve crossed the line, but would you like to go on a date with me?” He grabbed your hand in his and held it close to his body. Even in the cold weather, his hands were as warm as ever.

Kim Seokjin thought he was crossing the line? He thought he was shooting his shot to someone he had a minor possibility of dating? Being patient couldn’t have been more rewarding than in that moment.

“I’d love to.” You smiled.

Of course, the media was all over your first date with the man.

Even from inside the fancy restaurant you sat in, you could see the camera flashes from across the room in your secluded corner. Seokjn simply waved them off and continued to sip on his wine, telling you to pretend that they weren’t there.

For you, the pressure was intense. The entire world sat on your shoulders as they tried to scare you away from the man you loved.

Despite the harsh scrutiny and the offensive comments, your time of waiting on Seokjin had thickened your skin and reinforced your resolve. Your ultimate test of patience left you with a sense of serenity in the tense world.

You could wait for the attacks to die down. You could be patient- Kim Seokjin was worth it.

As time went on, people cared less and less about your relationship after realizing that you weren’t going anywhere. You had predicted as much.

To celebrate your two-year anniversary together, your boyfriend finally asked you to move in with him.

He was nervous, to say the least. Seokjin wanted you to live with him because he found your apartment to be quite small- it was about time to give you more.

Now, two days after the proposal to move in- on his free weekend- he was helping you move out of your apartment.

Everything was going smoothly, as he expected, up until the moment you told him to go into your closet and grab the box of clothes you had set aside to donate.

He wasn’t expecting to find a small box stuffed into the back of your closet with BTS in large sparkly letters decorating the top. After he pulled it out and dusted it off, he opened it to find photocards and trinkets of his brother, Hoseok.

Gingerly, he dipped his fingers into the box and pulled out a tiny, pink pouch that perked his interest- Seokjin never faired well with fighting his curiosity of material things.

Pulling out the small chain, he let a grimace riddle his features whilst he surveyed the six silver letters of Hoseok’s name adorning it.

“Oh.” He heard from behind him, causing him to jump and quickly drop the pouch and bracelet back into the open box in his lap. “So you found those.”

“What is all this?” He asked while gesturing to said box, an ugly inferno of jealousy beginning to curl inside his stomach and snake its way up his throat. All Seokjin could think about was the fact that Hoseok was your bias and not him. Sure, he never asked, but you could have at least told him that he had competition.

“I- uh-“ You stuttered. Your hesitation to answer warranted him to stand and approach you with an eyebrow cocked and a storm brewing in his eyes.

“Am I just a ploy to get to him?” Seokjin’s anger was obvious, yet you couldn’t help the lick of excitement as he became possessive over you- a trait you rarely saw on the man.

“No!” You were quick to answer his question, closing the space between the two of you to grab his hands in your own. “Babe, I swear! Those are from years ago! Before I met any of you!”

Although Seokjin knew that you were telling the truth, he still seethed in response and let his jealousy show. You seemed to like the jealous side of him, so he decided to maximize his advantages of the situation. It was also hard to ignore that he was growing slightly uncomfortable in his pants.

“Then why do you still have them?”

“Because my friend made them for me and they’re special!” You defended, wanting him to hold your hands. His fingers wrapped around yours tightly and pulled you so that your body was flush against his. You were left to stare up at his towering frame.

“Well,” He chuckled, letting go of your hands and bending down to throw you over his shoulder. You squealed in surprise but he only growled and smacked you on the ass with so much force that you yelped out in pain.

Seokjin threw you down on your tiny bed and you looked up at him in anticipation when you noticed the sly smile thinning his plump lips. He leaned down, placing a knee between your legs, as his gaze locked with yours.

“I’ll give you something fucking special, J-hope stan.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the nickname, bringing your arms up to wrap around your shoulders as he pecked you on the lips and trailed his lips down the side of your neck.

Once he placed a kiss on top of your clothed nipple, Seokjin wasted no time in lifting your shirt over your chest to press his tongue and lips against you. You sighed, letting your eyes flutter closed as you tipped your head back and let him work over your areola.

“Does Hobi know how sensitive you are here?” He asked, licking your nipple immediately after. He brought his thumb to the other one as he kissed it again. “Would he even figure it out?”

Instead of answering, you threaded your fingers into his hair blindly, wrapping your legs around his waist while he lowered his mouth further down your body. The notion left you quaking in its wake.

His nose feathered down your stomach while he whispered his next question.

“Does he know how soft your skin is?” Seokjin pressed his lips to the skin of your waist and you craned your head up to look down at him, catching his gaze promptly. Seeing his lips against your skin had your legs pressing against his sides even tighter. “Would he even appreciate it?”

He backed up and pulled your underwear and shorts down your legs to bare your pussy to him, not wanting to tease you at all. He was on a mission and you wouldn’t stop him.

By the time he got his face between your legs, you were already spasming and dripping.

Your boyfriend looked at you with a smirk on his lips. “Could he get you this wet?”

His tongue pushed between your folds and flattened to rub against your clit to lap up once with a groan building in his chest before he pulled away. “Would he even taste you?”

You whimpered, dependent on Seokjin for pleasure as he pressed his tongue on your clit and slid two fingers into your depths to scissor you open. For a good minute, he pumped his two fingers into you and shoved his tongue onto your bundle of nerves as if trying to completely lick it off your body.

Your first orgasm was sharp and intense, causing you to cry out and dig your fingers into your boyfriend’s scalp. He pulled his lips away from you for a moment to look up at your heaving body.

“Could he even find how sensitive you are right-“ He brushed his fingers against the spot that had your mind reeling. “-here? Could he make you feel good? How would he even begin to try?”

The oversensitivity had your senses dulling and your lips babbling. “He wouldn’t. God, Jin. He wouldn’t.”

He continued to sink his fingers into you, harshly laving over your clit with his tongue in between his words as if he were fucking you already.

“You just-” Slurp. “-taste like-” Suck. “-fucking candy, baby.” You gasped at the loss of contact and squealed every time he returned his tongue and covered you with his plump lips to wildly swirl the hot muscle into you.

Being forced into more orgasms wasn’t new for you, however, it was always on his dick that you sobbed your way through countless climaxes. The pleasure of being pushed over the edge by his tongue was completely new and unabashedly erotic.

You screamed and writhed against Seokjin’s hand splayed possessively over your stomach, trying to get away from the contact but helplessly struggling against him. One after the other, you were painfully shoved into cumming, but it’s only when you squirted onto his chin that he finally let up.

“I bet he couldn’t make you squirt like that.” He darkly chuckled.

You, sweaty and breathless, lay under him with a bead of drool beginning to collect at the corner of your mouth. Mindlessly, you affirmed his statement.

“He couldn’t. He couldn’t.” It was almost as if you were chanting now.

“You’re damn right, he couldn’t.” Seokjin stood on his knees and quickly pulled his jeans down just enough for his dick to pop out before eagerly settling himself between your shaky legs once more.

Pussy raw and throbbing, you needed him to fill you properly to balance out the sensitivity on your clit. It was almost painful.

“This pussy is mine.” Seokjin grabbed his dick and looked down to slap his tip against your clit repeatedly. Your legs jerked in result, body responsive to the slightest touch on your nub. “You’re all mine.”

“Jin,” You whimpered. “Please.”

“I know, baby. I know. Be patient.” And he slid in slowly.

You dug your nails into his shoulders and threw your head back into the pillow again. The pleasure was blinding and you tensed your entire body at the sensation of him stretching out your insides.

“He could never know how tight you are.” Seokjin grit his teeth as he bottomed out. “How fucking warm-” You gasped and your eyes rolled back as he nudged his hips to try pushing himself further inside you, succeeding in dipping slightly deeper into your walls and crowding himself against your womb almost uncomfortably. “-you are.”

At this point, all you could do was sob in confirmation. “He couldn’t.”

“I’m not gonna lie.” He pulled out and thrust into you once, then twice, and then paused while heaving above you. “You got me all worked up with how cute you sound so I won’t last very long. I’m going to need you to cum one more time. Can you do that for me, love?”

You nodded almost immediately, knowing that all he needed to do was toy with your clit to send you over the edge.

With a harsh beat, your lover ferociously fucked into you and grabbed one of your thighs to widen your legs. With each clap of his skin into yours, you let out a small huff while he literally fucked the air from your lungs.

“Cum, baby. Cum right now.” He strained.

“I-” You cried, holding onto him for dear life as you desperately needed that last nudge to send you hurtling towards ecstasy. “I can’t. I n-need-“

“Hobi can’t fuck you like this, Y/N. Can’t fill you up and make you scream like I can. But you can’t cum for me?” He smashed his swollen lips onto yours and messily pushed his tongue into your mouth. When he pulled away, a string of saliva connected the two of you. “What do you need, baby? What do you need me to do?”

Your clit practically screamed for attention from your prior orgasms, but you were too focused on not actually crying to tell him. Instead, you snaked your hand down your body towards yourself and Seokjin followed your trail down to where your bodies joined, noticing immediately how swollen and red your clit was. His expression softened in realization.

“Oh, does my girl need her pussy touched?” He crooned roughly.

You nodded feverishly, sniffling.

“Okay, love. I’ll touch.” And he did.

Your orgasm was almost instantaneous. Your body, battered and exhausted, trembled as it seized up to accept his thrust for the last time that evening. In all its pain and bliss, your climax was glorious.

“Oh fuckfuckfuckfuck-” Seokjin growled as he dropped his head to the crook of your neck. “Squeezing me all tight like that. You’d never squeeze Hobi like that.”

Even through your pleasure, you felt him clutch onto you tightly, slowing his thrusts and sinking himself deeply to empty his release into you.

“That’s my girl.” He groaned after he stilled, slumping against you. For a moment, the two of you breathed and relaxed in each other’s presence.

You chuckled, turning your head to kiss his head. “That was pretty hot, babe.”

His head shot up from your shoulder immediately. “Not at all! How could you stan Hobi and not me?”

“Babe, I was so much younger. Of course, the one who is a literal ball of sunshine was my bias. You can’t get enough of Hobi.”

“But I’m your boyfriend…” His eyebrows turned up at you and pouted all the while his dick still lay wedged between your legs. Slowly, you pushed him off of you so that you could go clean up.

As you stood, you walked to the bathroom and laughed again. “Yes, you are.”

Even as you were walking away, you heard him mutter under his breath.

“Hobi would never walk away from me like that.”

All you could do was giggle at his statement, knowing that he would eventually get over it. 

Kim Seokjin was the one you loved. Who was Jung Hoseok?

~#~

If you’d like to read more of my work, feel free to check out my Masterlist!

[julies-butterflies]

“One of us is starting to fall asleep.”-jukebox?

cuddle dialogue prompts  ( no longer accepting )                         ( read on ao3 )

By now, Julie knows that  Luke  and  sleep  don’t exactly get along.

Like... peanut butter and coleslaw. Studying and roller coasters. Alex and high school athletics. Luke and sleep are polar opposites, and flat-out don’t have time for each other. Whatever fundamental sequence of Luke’s DNA, whatever weird criss-cross firing of neurons in his head looks at a good night’s sleep, and decides, “nope, not for me...”

Well, Julie doesn’t  get it, but that’s how Luke’s made. Apparently, it’s how he’s always been, even when he was alive. Everyone else just has to deal with it.

“You’re keeping me up,” she announces, drawing her fuzzy blanket tighter around her shoulders.

Luke’s head shoots up, surprised — and sure, he’s got a right to be, considering it’s almost two in the morning. No sane person would be up this late. Not by choice, anyways... and Julie isn’t  choosing  to be awake herself. Something inside of her — one of those lightbulbs in her chest that blaze bright whenever the boys are near, that can feel them like a low, humming frequency even when they’re out of sight — is still awake, and buzzing. Late nights are like this. Whenever Luke can’t put himself to sleep — whether his brain is too loud, or his body too charged with energy — Julie feels it. She doesn’t want to, and definitely doesn’t enjoy it... but this is what her life has become. Being kept awake half the night by cute, insomniac ghosts.

He lowers his pencil slowly, and pulls his notebook against his chest. Luke sucks his cheeks, looking sheepish. 

“Sorry. I, uhh, I was just —“ He gestures vaguely around the darkened studio. A few faint snores echo from the loft, where Alex has set up a private space for himself. Reggie is face down on the sofa in a pile of blankets, hugging them to his chest like a kangaroo protecting its baby. (Julie’s going to have to get him a stuffed animal to snuggle one of these days; half the reason Luke doesn’t sleep, she suspects, is because Reggie’s such a blanket hog.)

The studio is dark except for a single light, glowing in the corner of the room. Luke is curled up there, with his notebook against his knees… but he wasn’t writing when Julie slipped in. He was glaring down at the page like it personally offended him. Now, he sets the notebook aside without a second glance, turning his full attention on her.

“Just felt like there was a song in my head, and I had to get it out. But it’s, uhh…” He gives his shaggy head a shake. “Not coming.”

“Maybe ‘cause you’re exhausted.” Julie crosses her arms. “It’s way past bedtime, Luke.”

“I’m a ghost, though.” He spreads his arms wide and leans back in his seat, like that’s something to be proud of. “Ghosts don’t  have  bedtimes.”

Without blinking, Julie crosses over to the couch and gives it a firm kick.

“Reggie? When’s your bedtime?”

Reggie snorts, popping his head up. “Ten-thirty,” he mutters… before faceplanting in the blankets again.

Luke rolls his eyes. “Reggie can have a bedtime if he wants to. I’m a free agent.”

“You’re an insomniac, and should probably talk to someone.”

“You know any good ghost doctors?”

Julie’s eye twitches. “We’ll  find  one.”

Tipping his head back towards the ceiling, Luke clicks his tongue. “I dunno, Jules, it’s been a while since my last checkup… I don’t got time for all the bells and whistles, you know? They’re gonna take that little hammer to my knee, and it’s gonna go right through me… they're gonna look for my heartbeat and be real confused... probably try to give me some spooky X-rays…” He gasps, and bolts upright. “Julie, they’re gonna find out I don’t have a skeleton!”

Okay, thinks Julie, the late hour is definitely getting to his head.

“Is that your excuse?”

The unexpected voice from the darkness sends them both jumping out of their skin. Luke flails, nearly falling out of his chair; blinking up at the loft, Julie’s eyes widen as a  phenomenal  mess of bedhead peeks out over the railing.

“We all know you’re afraid of needles. You haven’t had a booster shot in thirty years, Luke.” Alex glares down at them both. “Now, either shut up or go away, some of us are trying to sleep!”

Reggie holds up a hand, and mumbles something like “agreed,” into his pillow.

Clapping her palm over her mouth, Julie exchanges a sheepish glance with Luke. It takes every ounce of her self-control not to burst out laughing — Alex might actually start throwing things at them — but from the way Luke’s shoulders shake, she doesn’t trust him to hold out.

“Okay, sorry, we’re leaving,” she says in an hushed rush… and, before Luke can say another word, she snags him by the arm and pulls him with her.

They slip out the doors of the studio, and break into the humid night air. May in Los Angeles is just beginning to get hot -hot; warm enough to justify tank tops instead of sweatshirts, flip-flops instead of monster slippers. Julie’s pajamas aren’t anything interesting — Luke’s seen her in worse — but under the cool moonlight, his eyes still drink her in as if seeing her for the first time.

“You sleep with all those necklaces on?” he asks.

Okay, maybe he is seeing her for the first time, because Julie’s slept with her jewelry on since, like… sixth grade.

“You’re just noticing?”

“They’re pretty in the moonlight,” he replies, like it’s a foregone conclusion; then his brows furrow. “What if they choke you?”

“That’s not how it works, Luke.”

“Sure it is! All they need to do is get a little tangled up —“ He mimes, presumably, Julie doing acrobatics in her sleep. “And  wham,  you end up all strangled to death! I know we’ve got a gimmick, Julie, but we don’t gotta make it a full-phantom band so soon.”

“You say that like you’ve got plans for my death.”

“I mean…” He shrugs, the picture of innocence. “Not in the near future, but, y’know, we can't have you out-aging us…”

“Oh,” she says, beginning the long trek up the pathway to the house. “So I’ve got… two years before you guys decide to kill me. That’s reassuring.”

Luke follows after her, their footsteps echoing together. “Eh, we could stretch it to five. Six, tops. You’re tiny, you’ve still got a few good years left in you. Not like you’re gonna go all grandma on us  too  soon.”

Julie gasps, and swats at him. Luke accepts the hit to the chest with dignity, biting back a grin. He looks unfairly handsome in the moonlight… and Julie refuses to think about that, because it opens up a wole Pandora’s Box of issues, ranging from the obvious  (he’s a ghost eternally trapped at seventeen and, unless he somehow comes back to life through the power of music, I  am  going to get older than him someday)  to the serious  (he’s keeping me up at two in the morning).

Luke isn’t handsome. He’s a sleepless menace, and Julie shouldn’t entertain him a second longer.

They reach her door. Somehow, they come to a stop at exactly the same time, turning towards each other. Julie tugs her blanket tighter around her bare shoulders. Luke reaches out, and pulls the door open for her.

“I guess —“ he says.

“Yeah,” Julie agrees quickly. “Sounds good.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

“Goodnight, then?”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

They smile at each other for a second, close-lipped and quiet… before something in Julie breaks, and she lays a hand on his arm. Somehow, he’s always so warm under her touch, so solid. He feels like a promise always kept… a steadiness, a certainty. A comfort.

“Come on,” she says softly, taking them both by surprise. “My bed has room for two.”

---------

He’s still so very warm, in bed next to her, with their legs tangled and bodies brushing whenever they move. It’s too humid for covers, so Julie’s got her favorite sheet, instead. As soon as Luke sees it, he billows it up into the air, and lets it fall down on top of them both like a parachute. Julie claps a hand over her mouth to hide her giggles. Even in the darkness of her bedroom — lit by the dimly glowing fairylights she only put on to keep Luke from tripping over her carpet — his grin is blinding. As the sheet flutters down over them both, she stretches her arms up to welcome it; he laughs so loudly, it’s a good thing her dad and brother can’t hear.

“This,” she huffs, once they’re both hiding under the covers, “this isn’t what we should be doing. It’s two in the morning.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Totally right.” Luke’s quiet for a moment — before shaking the covers again, causing a wave of air to roll over them. He makes a ridiculous whoosh! noise, and Julie snorts.

“Stop!” She swats at his shoulder again; the sound is harsher than the impact. Luke yelps and curls in on himself, feigning a mortal injury. Over his groans and moans and  “Julie, how could you”s,  Julie can’t restrain another fit of giggles.

Oh god, she’s gone for this boy. She really is.

It’s two in the morning, and she’s in hysterics in her bedroom over a boy no one else in the world can see… and he’s smiling at her like she’s the brightest star blazing in the sky, and his legs are brushing hers, and she can feel the pulse of his heartbeat, the warmth of his breath… which shouldn’t be possible, because he’s  dead.

Luke reaches up. Gently, he brushes a stray curl from Julie’s temple. His hand lingers, and Julie feels dizzy.

“This feels like heaven,” he says softly.

Julie’s breath catches.

“I… thought you said you’d never get there.”

“Yeah, well…” When he chuckles, his breath ruffles her hair. “I’m not much of a believer in the ‘all rockstars go to heaven’ kinda thing… I don’t even know if I buy into that stuff, period.” He shrugs, and glances down, at the bare inches of space in between them. “But this… is what it’d feel like, I think. Right here, with you. This kind of forever.”

“With...” She swallows past a throat that is suddenly too dry, forcing words together in a head that reverberates with  heaven  and  you. Forever. God, can they make this last forever?

Instead of speaking, her hand finds Luke’s in the darkness. Their palms press; their fingers intertwine. He is restless beneath her touch, all calluses and carelessness and nervous energy… but Julie holds him until she feels him relax, then slowly raises their hands up between them.

“I’d like that,” she whispers. “To stay here forever.”

His eyes shine bright. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She swallows. “As long as it’s with you.”

These are exactly the sort of confessions that could not be made any time other than late in the night, or early in the morning — that funny liminal space of existence, the hours where nothing is really real, and everything feels like it matters too much. Julie is floating, and Luke is right here with her. He’s smiling inches away from her face… and if she wanted to lean over, to close the distance between them, it would be as easy as breathing.

She doesn’t, though, because this moment feels sacred. She won’t claim it selfishly for herself — won’t turn it into something it’s not. This moment is shared, between her and Luke... secrets whispered in the dark for their ears alone. It should stay that way.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes softly, like it’s all he knows for sure.

“You’re amazing,” she replies, in the same voice.

“You’re a star.”

“You’re inspiring.”

“You make me feel alive again.”

“So do you.”

They exhale in the silence, the words floating through the air around them. Julie imagines she can see them glowing in the darkness. If she wanted, she could pluck them out of thin air, tuck them away in her dream box and save them forever. This feels like the sort of moment that belongs there — halfway between dream and waking, almost too good to be true.

For a while, they don’t talk at all. Luke plays with her hair, and Julie twines their fingers. Their breaths match each other’s in the silence. It feels like floating down a lazy river, and slowly, Julie can feel herself being carried away.

She’s only aware of her eyes getting heavier when Luke’s fingers graze her brow, and she can’t force her lids open to look at him.

“Looks like one of us is starting to fall asleep,” Luke teases, his voice soft.

Julie humms, and feels herself smile. “You.”

“Not me.” His voice is smiling, too. “You.”

“You need t’ sleep.” She exhales, and sees it ruffle his hair like leaves on a tree. His nose scrunches up. He doesn’t look drowsy — not like he’s drowning in it, like she is — but he’s not wide awake, either. His head is quiet, his soul is calm; the hive of bees buzzing in Julie’s chest has given up the ghost for tonight. (Little Luke-shaped bees, with beanies and guitars, who keep flying into everything because they’ve got too much energy…)

She bursts into giggles again at the thought. They spill from her lips like honey; she’s too tired to silence them, nevermind hide her grin. Instead, she slumps against Luke, muffling herself against his shoulder. He smells like pine needles and sunshine. His arms wrap around her back to steady her, and she can feel him smiling against her, and Julie thinks…

Julie thinks…

Forever.

“What’s so funny?” he murmurs into the crown of her head.

“Bees,” she replies, and giggles again.

“Oh yeah?” He hums, like this makes perfect sense. “I mean, yeah, they’re pretty hilarious.”

“Mmm.” She presses her face against his shoulder, and decides to stay there. “Mmm.”

For a long moment, he’s completely still — like the world’s most realistic stuffed animal, the coziest pillow ever made — before his hand tentatively begins to massage between her shoulder blades, running up and down her spine.

“You good, Julie?” he murmurs softly, and Julie humms again.

“Stay with me,” she manages to say.  Forever. “Sleep here… with me.”

Luke’s caress feels like a lullaby. The lips that graze her temple are a promise.

“Don’t worry, Julie,” he murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Somehow,  forever feels good enough for tonight.

[takerfoxx]

Some stuff from 2020 that I actually liked

Okay, so 2020 was a godawful year, we all agree. But a lot of good did happen to keep us sane, so I want to go ahead and list everything that made me happy last year. Also, note that some of these things actually debuted earlier than 2020, but I came across it in 2020, so it counts for me.

TV!

-The Hollow.

The Hollow is a truly underappreciated show. A cool premise and interesting characters that just got better every episode.

The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance.

This is one of the best single-season shows I’ve ever seen. Absolutely brilliant, and fuck you Netflix for pulling the plug!

Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken!

This show is not my thing by any means, and I would never have checked it out if the opening wasn’t so attention-grabbing. Glad I did, because it gave me genuine joy. Though it probably should have debuted later in the year, since it seems custom-made for the quarantine months. 

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power: Season 5

What more can I say? One of my favorite shows of all time going out with a fantastic bang. God, I love this show.

Honorable mentions: Kipo and the Age of the Wunderbeasts, The Owl House, Magia Record, and SSSS Gridman.

MOVIES

There wasn’t a lot of movies worth talking about this year, and fewer that I actually saw. This one had the good fortune to drop just in time to dominate the box office right before quarintine shut everything down. And for a film with such an uninspired premise, such a problematic production, and being a video game movie no less, it just brought me so much joy.

VIDEO GAMES

Stinkoman 20x6: Level 10

Homestar Runner was my first favorite thing on the internet, and I spent many hours playing through Stinkoman 20x6 well over a decade ago. So when they finally announced the final level mere days before flash died forever, it was a big of closure I never thought I would get.

A Hat in Time

This game was a surreal delight. More like this, please!

Hollow Knight

On the other end of the spectrum, good lord was exploring the world of Hollownest a joy. Can’t wait for Silksong!

Honorable mention: Orri and the Blind Forest

PRO WRESTLING

Tetsuya Naito achieves his Destino

I’ve already got into detail why this moment was so special, so I won’t repeat myself here. But man, was it incredible.

Kota Ibushi, back-to-back G1 winner!

If it were anyone else, I would be annoyed. But it’s Kota.

I started watching Lucha Underground!

This show is years old, but I only started watching it this year, and I’m glad that I did, because it is so much fun. It’s basically Mortal Kombat as a wrestling show!

Honorable mentions: the Firefly Funhouse match, Roman Reigns turning heel, Kenny Omega and Jon Moxley’s AEW championship wins

LITERATURE

Two Dresden Books

The Dresden Files is my favorite book series, and after waiting so long for it to return, getting two books in the same year was a real treat

Dance in the Vampire Bund

This is probably my guiltiest of guilty pleasures, because unlike other guilty pleasures like To Love-Ru or the Hollywood Undead in which their unashamed schlockiness is part of the charm DitVB is largely a fantastic vampire story with a richly drawn world, great characters, a compelling plot, and some truly great action. It just has that one really gross aspect that overshadows everything else, and unfortunately is promoted as its main selling point. That being said, I was happy to see it return.

PERSONAL WRITING

Returning to fanfiction

Ah, IM and RD, how I’ve missed thee. Sure, my heyday may be over, but it’s still wonderful to return to old stories

Finishing both Walpurgis Nights and Restless

These two were both passion projects that have been taking up space in my head for years, so finishing both was a dream come true, no pun intended

Getting Blood Island going

I have no idea how my future in original fiction will go, but I hope it’s good.

MUSIC

DemonDice

Yes, we all know who she is now, but finding Calliope’s older stuff kind of makes me mad about how unappreciated she was. 

Mystery Skulls - Ultra Rare vol. 2

I remember asking Mystery Skulls right after vol 1 dropped if a vol 2 was in the worlds, and he said definitely. It took a while, but it’s finally here.

Skyhill returns

God, Howling at the Moon came when I needed it the most.

K/DA All Out

I found out that this was coming out literally days before it dropped, and it ROCKED!

Ken Ashcorp

Why yes, I would like more incredibly catchy, shamelessly horny songs about nerdy stuff that I like, thank you very much.

Honorable Mentions: Hybrid Theory deluxe edition, In This Moment, Gorillaz Song Machine

Misc.

hololive

This is the era of the Vtuber. I still don’t fully understand why these cute but psycho anime girls bring me so much joy, but I’m glad that they do. 

And finally...

Donald Trump gets voted out of office.

Fuck you, you narcissistic, fascist piece of shit. You losing didn’t make up for such an awful year or for the four years in which you ran this country into the ground, but it was a good start!

[httpghostface]

Dancing with your ghost

fem!reader/y/n

quirk: y/n pretty much has the same thing like Klaus from T.U.A can talk, hear, see, bring back, use to her will and make ‘ghost’ solid 

I’m so so so so so so sorry 

I cried while typing this

:angst and some other stuff I cant remember

It had been some time of you staying up late but it’s not like you wanted to sleep anyway. Just closing your eyes made you think and see him, but when you opened them nothing saying over and over it’s okay but everyone including you knew it wasn’t. 

You kept telling yourself he was there but the house was still nothing moved but you and it was quite so you decided to play some music on a record player that you got for your birthday, without looking at the song on was you just started playing it. As the first words and melody of “slow dancing in the dark” played you couldn’t help but start yelling and throwing everything.

You were sure your neighbors on both sides heard you stopped when you saw red coming out of the palm of your hand. As the thick red liquid washed away you turned your hand over only to be met with the very thing that made you still his a sign that he was here at one point. 

The deep red ruby shining on your finger that kept you somewhat sane, somehow. looking at you self and still hearing the song. It still pulling tears out of your eyes, you wanted to beat yourself for not going that day but you were caught up in traffic back from the ultrasound.

All the work for nothing, and in the end you lost the baby either way. All you could do was slide down to the floor as cry not knowing what to do but feel like shit or sorry for yourself. Wishing you were stronger, better, just more than you were but the thing was you weren’t and he told you it was okay because you were enough for him.

When you woke up you got up still kinda tired not know how you fell asleep or what time it was. When the living room came into view you changed the song to one that you knew you guys would slow dance together to only when you both had a hard day. Which you noticed was a lot more than often, when he was here.

you told yourself using your quirk for this was not good but you decided it would be the last time and then you would let him go for good this time, as you pulled the hood over your head to inhale his sent and closed your eyes to picture him there you could feel the tears already dripping out your eyes onto your lap. You told yourself you just needed to see him once and that you would be good, one turned into three and that turned into four times a week more if you needed it.

As you heard the little creek of the couch and tiny footsteps you opened your eyes to be met with the tiny version of you and Katsuki. You started crying again but harder as he put his tiny hand on your cheek and said “mama”. The now four year old had ash blonde hair and a couple streaks of your (h/c) hair.

As he hugged you, You felt almost complete as you heard the heavy steps of your late husband. You to scared to look but could feel him hug you from behind, you knew he knew this was the last time seeing you as you put Kai to sleep cause you didn’t want him to see you break down again.

As done a thousand times before you put on music and looked at Katsuki to see him crying already as he took your hand he felt cold not like his old warmer self, his body moving with yours felt good after three months.

“I missed you” his voice was a little broken but still strong somehow.

“I missed you more...tsuki” your voice almost a whisper the nickname stung as you said it both crying a little more.

As you stopped moving you hug him tight and grab the back of his shirt he knew you let Kai go onto the after life where he should have been the whole time but wouldn’t let him. As you moved your head back a little looking at his eyes to see if it was okay for you to let go. You stood there holding him for an hour more talking before you both let go but still holding hands.

“I will always love you Katsuki Bakugou.” those seven words broke him so much he let it all out never in all your twelve years of knowing him did you see so much emotion from him.

As he held your face in his hands and put his forehead to yours. He looked at you one last time before the words

“I love you so much fucking more y/n Bakugou.”

left his mouth. And like nothing he was gone.

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

It took you two more years after that to finally pick your self up, yes it still hurt and you were more numb than ever but it was somewhat easier for you that way. Denki, Kirishima, Mina, Sero and the rest of 1-A tried to talk you out of your plan but nothing would or could except one and he was gone. But none the less some agreed to help you with half of it.

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

As Bakugou was trying to settle down the very hyper mini me, by letting him run around. He was looking for something to do but still keeping an eye on Kai. He heard Kai say “MOM” and looked around once he saw his kid hugging someone but couldn’t tell who it was, as he was about to yell he seen the other stranger stand. His eyes filled with tears as he ran towards you picking you up. Not caring how or when you got there, your little “ta-da” making him hug you harder. He looked at you and that’s when he knew what you had did to get there.

As he was about to say something you pulled out a three little boxes one red, one blue and one orange. You gave the blue one to Kai as he opened it, it was a black box looking locket with all of you initials on it inside a picture of you and Bakugou on your first date back at UA. You gave Bakugou the orange one he opened it to find his wedding ring and engagement ring along with it, looking at the two things he held close as he took his last breath he put them on one at a time missing how they looked and felt the cool silver with a little ghost that you had customized so you propose to him. He let out a breathy laugh as he remembered that day you proposed to each other at the same time. Moving onto the actual wedding ring the simple ruby ring that was black to match his whole persona. As he saw you open the red box he saw the same thing he saw in his but with the promise ring he bought for your four year anniversary you put the rings on and show him the deep ruby red ring, the black explosion ring and the rose gold teddy bear promise ring.

And just like that you all felt whole again being together forever this time.

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

aww did you cry I did any questions lmk

[darkarfs]

the worst movie tie-ins in the history of wrestling

Wrestling is stupid, and will show its ass at the mere mention of cross-promotion, especially when it comes to movies, which is it's cooler older brother that can get away with a lot more. Hell, the 2nd ever SummerSlam's main event, in 1989, was Hulk Hogan facing the main villain, Tiny Lister as Zeus (RIP), from the film they were both in, No Holds Barred. So wrestling's always wanted a piece of that. So... - Army of the Dead Let's just get this one out of the way. Here's the thing; I thought the WrestleMania Backlash's card was fucking perfect...except for this weird business. WMB MIGHT've been the best show of the pandemic (hot take) were it not for making sure we sell Big Dave's big zombie heist movie. If they had just kept some of the guys in zombie makeup on the Thunderdome's webcam footage, that would have been borderline charming. But instead, the Miz (who was WWE champion 3 months ago, don't forget) and Damien Priest (who they're making WWE's pop-culture liaison so far on the main roster, for some reason) had to sell for zombies in a lumberjack match. If this was the first ever wrestling show you watched with a loved one who had never watched wrestling or hadn't since like, the end of the Attitude Era, would you for a second want them to stick around after Miz and Morrison get, for all intents and purposes, kayfabe killed and eaten, and then watch Damien Priest shoot the logo at the ceiling? My money's on "no." - Shaft Speaking of the Attitude Era, anytime someone tells you that wrestling was cooler in that 3-year time frame, point them to the June 15th of 2000 episode of SmackDown, where a storyline that ran throughout the show followed Patterson and Briscoe through New York City to find Crash Holly and his Hardcore Title. Now, I admit parts of this are kinda funny, like Briscoe just wanting to give up and find a "gen-yoo-WINE New York hot dawg!" That's fun! And who does Crash Holly run into but none other than Shaft, and his woman, the only one who understands this complicated man, John Shaft. So, we have real Samuel L. Jackson, playing fake John Shaft, talking to real/fictional Crash Holly, and man is it weird. Anyway, Shaft agrees to be Crash's bodyguard for the night, and he slaps around Patterson and Briscoe in a nightclub. After all, what better way to get across how cool and badass a character is than having him knock around the fucking Stooges? - The Wrestler Well, this is complicated. The Wrestler, starring ancient wooden lion Mickey Rourke, is a somber tale about an industry that, in its heyday, left people physically spent, washed-up and addicted to adrenaline at best, and dead at worst. It famously moved Roddy Piper to tears because he recognized what destruction and brokenness the industry once left in its wake. Which is why it's super-weird that WWE jumped at the chance to promote maybe the bleakest possible look at their world in 2009, and did so by having Chris Jericho smack the shit out of three old wrestlers at WrestleMania 25, including Roddy Piper. And then have Rourke jump into the ring, wearing his "do you want to take peyote in the desert?" starter kit and bring out his amateur boxing chops. Tonally, it's just really bleak. Like if the creator of Super Size Me screened the premiere at the world's biggest McDonald's. - Bride of Chucky Poor Rick Steiner. You didn't deserve this. You're the sane Steiner. They shouldn't have made you talk to the puppet. So, WCW was heading into Halloween Havoc 1998, and after years of stomping all over the WWF in the ratings, the wheels had come off, and dramatically. Like, all at once. Like the car in the Blues Brothers. To boost PPV buys, they spent a fortune bringing in the Ultimate Warrior to rekindle a feud with Hulk Hogan, mostly by hiding in his fucking mirror. And the Steiner Brothers, one of the best teams of the early 90s, had been feuding with one another since Scott turned on his at SuperBrawl. What was the best way to build hype around this match at Halloween Havoc? Why, to have Rick get into a war of words - and lose - to Chucky. Yes.

Serial killer doll voiced by Brad Dourif, and it's so sad. Chucky cusses Rick out while Rick challenges the fucking doll to a fight, which is promptly ignored (Chucky's video segment is pre-recorded, and you can tell because he starts talking about 3 times in 3 minutes while Rick's mid-promo and missing his cues to stop) and then is made fun of. And all the while, people were probably wondering "what's going on on Vince's show?" and the answer is...that was the episode of Raw where Austin fills Vince's Corvette with cement, which is slightly more badass than being teased by a puppet. - The Goods Here's the thing: Raw is, right now, a bad show. It is bad TV. It's been bad for a while now. And as bad as it is right now, it's still not as fuck-awful as it was in 2009, aka the Age of the Guest Hosts (which, in kayfabe, was given to us by Donald J. Trump, so blame that ambulatory Nazi scrotum for one more thing, he's certainly earned it). For those of you fortunate enough to not be watching what was objectively unwatchable at the time - and hell, I sure as shit wasn't checking in very often - from mid-2009 to around mid-2010, a celebrity would be the special guest host of Monday Night Raw, often to promote a TV show or movie, and it was nearly all horribly-written, cheesy wank. Imagine if every week was the week of the zombie attack at Backlash. That's what it was like. Bob Barker was funny. The Muppets were good. And THAT'S the end of the list. MacGruber coming out to blow up R-Truth made me want to fall on a knife. The A-Team coming out to beat up Virgil was fucking awful. Go straight to fucking HELL, the Three Stooges, Dennis Miller, the reverend Al Sharpton, the 2010 Pittsburgh Steelers, Don Johnson and Jon Heder, the poor entire cast of Hot Tub Time Machine...and then there's Piven. Jeremy Piven. He showed up with Ken Jeong to promote a movie no one remembers...called the Goods. He stunk up several segments, infamously called SummerSlam "the Summer Fest" and then got roughed up by John Cena. Wrestling's the worst. Stop watching. And many did. For a looooooong time. - Robocop 2 This one's infamous, so I'll keep it brief. Robocop 2 came out in 1990, and goddamn, I don't know how much money the producers threw at WCW, but it was enough for them to rebrand an entire PPV "Capitol Combat: the Return of Robocop" and marketed the entire thing around the fancy metallic gentleman. The branding really made it seem like Robert Cop was old friends with the promotion, and indeed, old friends with Sting. Makes sense; two big, heroic idiots running on BASIC. He had been feuding with the Four Horsemen, who locked him in a cage at ringside. Out comes Robocop, called completely straight by Jim Ross, who rips the cage door off his hinges, and then leaves. An accumulated 85 seconds of screen time. Totally worth being the centerpiece of this PPV! But a little context as to why WCW fans hated it so much: 1989, the year before, was regarded by WCW fans as one of the best in company history. The era that gave us stuff like Chi-Town Rumble and the still-very-much-lauded peak of the Steamboat/Flair feud. To go from that to Robocop was seen as a bit of a slap in the face, because WCW was always seen as the more traditional "wrasslin'" company and was never into cheesy pop-culture crossovers, which is why the last one...is all the funnier.

- Ready To Rumble First of all, those dumbasses at Turner had to give Michael Buffer - who they still had on retainer - around $350,000 just to use that title, because he owns the trademark to that phrase. Strike 127 million, capitalism, that a guy gets to own a phrase and gets paid an obscene amount when he or anyone else uses it. Secondly, I initially wasn't going to do movies where the promotion itself is producing the movie, or oh holy HELL would See No Evil and the infamous May 19 shit be on here. But unlike See No Evil, this had a hand in killing a decades-old wrestling promotion, so it feels weird to not include it. On April 7th, 2000, bad movie Ready To Rumble was released, a film about two hapless dorks trying to help Oilver Platt, aka the lawyer from the West Wing, become WCW World Heavyweight Champion. Two weeks later, to promote the movie, they made David Arquette, the lead actor in the movie, the WCW World Heavyweight Champion. He pinned Eric Bischoff, who wasn't the champion, of course, in a match where he was teamed with Diamond Dallas Page, his best pal and the company's top babyface at the time, but who is also one of the villains in the film to make it extra confusing for the mainstream casual audience the movie was made to attract. And, to be fair, Arquette didn't want to do it, NO ONE really wanted to do it, and it tanked viewership for WCW once and for all. At the very least, David took his payday from the wrestling appearances and the film and gave it to the families of Owen Hart, Brian Pillman and to Darren Drozdov, who had been paralyzed from the neck down in a wrestling match the previous year.

[kittiesluvyou]

Avenging Uncles

Summary: Tony and Steve are arguing about their latest failed mission. On top of that, it could be a cause to another civil war. Peter is distraught and overwhelmed so it’s up to Bucky, Loki, and Eddie to come to his aid.

Word Count: Unknown

Tw: No warnings

“We may have failed, Steve, but at least no one was killed nor seriously injured. Can we just be thankful that no one has ever tried to sue us since we’re working with S.H.I.E.L.D. I can also pay for any damages done easily?!” Tony was in this heated argument with Steve for what felt like 20 minutes now. “We know, Tony. You’re a rich playboy who loves to party, get drunk, and work on your many suits; HOWEVER, since we now have to watch over Peter, maybe you should take that responsibility more seriously!” Peter overheard the entire conversation from outside of the conference room. Whenever Tony and Steve argue like this, Steve loves putting Peter in the spotlight, and he absolutely hates that about him. He needs to escape and fast. That’s when a beam of light came bursting through the room and sure enough, a figure in a black suit and short dark curly hair emerged through the light. “Hello, Peter, I overheard that you wanted to escape while Steve and Tony are having their little ‘couples’ quarrel’.” “Mr. Loki! Even though we’ve never met before, I’m already happy to see you!” He hugged him in greeting and Loki, who couldn’t help but feel overjoyed, he hugged him back. A knocking noise was then heard and when Peter opened the door, he was greeted by Bucky Barnes and Eddie Brock. “Uncle Eddie? Mr. Barnes? What are you guys doing here?” Peter looked back-and-forth between the two men. “We came to see you, Peter, we heard about Tony and Steve’s argument,” Venom emerged from Eddie’s left shoulder making Loki flinch a little bit. “You need a break, kiddo, or you’re going to overwork yourself to death.” Eddie finished patting Peter’s head. Tears swelled from his eyes “th-thank you g-guys!” he hiccupped and pulled Eddie, Bucky, and Loki into a group hug. “So,” Loki clapped his hands together “what do you want to do before Midgard has another civil war on their hands?” “Well...I was thinking we could go to San Francisco and hang out in Eddie’s apartment. After that, I want to go meet Ms. Cheng because I heard that she’s a really sweet lady. Then, Loki if you want to, I want to visit Alcatraz.” Loki beamed at Eddie and Bucky “I love that plan! Now let’s be before-” “EVERYONE DOWN!” Peter screamed as he pushed Loki out of the way. Thanks to his spider-sense, Iron Man’s laser beam went through the conference room door instead of Loki’s stomach. “LET’S GO NOW!” He grabbed Peter’s arm and teleported leaving Eddie and Bucky behind. “I knew he was going to do that. Damn you, Loki.” Bucky rolled his eyes, raised his middle finger to the sky, and left to borrow a plane from Nick Fury. “I got us, Eddie,” Venom said and skydived off of the Helicarrier into the Hudson River.

***

Meanwhile in San Francisco, Loki was searching in every cabinet for something edible. “I can’t believe that Eddie has barely any good food in here,” his eyes scanned the endless stacks of chocolate bars and tater-tots “Odin’s eyepatch, how is this man still alive?! And why do Steve and Tony allow you to hang out with him?!” Peter turned away from his science project “tater-tots are actually really good, Loki! Same with chocolate too, however, make sure that there Hershey’s though. Those are the best!” “You would want tater-tots for lunch then, right?” Venom violently pushed open the door “IF YOU TOUCH OUR TATOR-TOTS AND CHOCOLATE, WE WILL KILL YOU OURSELVES!” He snarled. “Venom no! We do not eat gods!” Peter shouted stepping between him and Loki. “Listen to the kid, Vee!” Eddie begged. After a few seconds of thinking it over, Venom allowed Eddie to transform back “the only person who is allowed to eat our food is Peter Parker and Peter Parker alone.” Loki lifted his hands in the air “fair enough,” he turned to the mass collection of chocolate and tots “I don’t like this stuff anyway.” “I can order a pizza for me, Bucky, and Loki if that helps keep everyone sane so that we’re not killing each other out of starvation?” “Peter, while I may agree with you, it’s probably best if you allow me to order it. Besides, aren’t you saving that money for your Aunt May to help her move out of her apartment?” “You know, there’s always plan B,” Loki teleported into the kitchen with three boxes of pizzas. “Loki, what the f-” “THANK YOU MR. LOKI!” Peter interrupted Bucky’s sentence grabbing his pepperoni pizza and sat down at the small dining table. “How the hell did you get those?” Bucky glanced down at the two remaining boxes. “Let’s just say, if you’re the master of deception with a handsome disguise and clever threats, you can get away with a lot of possible illegal things.” Loki passed one of the pizza boxes to Bucky “you wanted cheese, correct?” “And for Eddie, you get tater-tots on yours,” Peter’s eyes widened “isn’t that against pizza laws to order tater-tots on pizza?” Eddie turned to him laughing “not unless you have a symbiote fused to your body who has non-stop cravings for tots and chocolate.”

***

After dinner, Peter was playing with Venom on the couch while Eddie was watching rom-coms. “Venom, do symbiotes age? For example, as your host gets older, do you age at the same time as him?” “We never age, Peter. We will always stay the same age and if our host ever does die, we will find a new one to bond with. That’s how we survive, Peter.” “Just like a god,” Loki walked into the room and sat down in front of the couch. “I thought gods could age,” Peter looked down at Loki from over Eddie’s shoulder. “We can; however, we keep our youth by eating golden apples that are hand-picked by Idunn, who is the goddess of spring or rejuvenation.” “What happens if a mortal eats the apple?” Bucky asked taking a seat next to Loki “I have no clue, but now I want to test that question.” “No one is testing magical items on mortals!” Eddie jumped in. “Loki, do you still want to explore Alcatraz or do you want to do something else that’s equally as cool and as fascinating?” Loki was about to answer when all of a sudden, he got a call from Tony. “Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter sighed as he rubbed his forehead. Why can’t he and Steve get along for once? He thought. “Where are you? Me, Steve, Clint, and Natasha went all around New York to find you!” Peter thought about lying but quickly dismissed it because Tony installed a tracking device inside of Karen so he can quickly find him. “I’m in San Francisco with Bucky, Eddie, and Loki. By the way, I’m not coming back until the next civil war is over! I don’t care if I look like a traitor to you Mr. Stark, you and Steve need to stop fighting and get along for once.” Tony eyed Steve who then gave him an ‘I told you so’ look. “Ok, kid, take the week off, but we need you back. Also, keep an eye on Loki I don’t trust him even after the events of Ragnarok.” “That’s fair, goodbye Mr. Stark.” Peter hung up the call. He then completely broke down “you did the right thing, Peter,” Bucky hugged him “it’s good to get a break from him and this weekend break would give us more time to do everything that you want to do,” Loki added on and hugged him too. Eddie nodded in agreement “if this ever happens again, call any of us ok.” Peter sniffled “I will, Uncle Eddie, Mr. Barnes, and Mr. Loki. That’s a promise I don’t have an intention on breaking.” He then remembered something else that he wanted to do “hey, I heard that Stephen is supposed to be here on an important sorcerer’s business and I want to give him the first Harry Potter book because he has never read any of the books before. I really think he would love it!” “Of course we can,” Loki replied and took Peter’s hand “I need to speak to him after the whole falling for thirty minutes thing.” Peter beamed “thank you, Mr. Loki! Let’s go now!” They then teleported to Stephen’s location. “He’s going to prank him, isn’t he?” Eddie asked as soon as they left. Bucky sat down next to Eddie and stroked Venom “judging by his title as being ‘the god of mischief’? Absolutely.”

[lostcybertronian]

“I can’t imagine my life without you in it anymore.” For Cecilos of your still doing WTNV prompts?

Okay so. I heard somewhere that it was Carlos who proposed to Cecil, and I have since wondered what that moment was like.

Enjoy.

---

Prompt: “I can’t imagine my life without you in it anymore.”

    “Maybe we should ask him what’s wrong.”

The lab sitting in the strip mall next to Big Rico’s Pizza was usually a buzz of activity; scientists went in and out, often carrying some manner of complicated machine or experiment. Sometimes that machine or experiment was alive, sometimes it wasn’t, but it was always scientific and always under the careful eye of Carlos the scientist.

    As of now-- 3:34PM Night Vale Standard Time (NVST)-- not a whole lot of science was getting done, and the tension could be cut with a metaphorical knife. Even Lusia-- usually immune to even the worst of what tension had to offer-- was ignoring her potatoes instead of loudly insulting them, as her newest experiment demanded.

    “And by ‘we,’ I mean you, Nils,” the scientist continued casually, casting a pointed glance at Nilanjana as she did.

    Nilanjana shrugged. Her petri dish full of bacteria was being stubborn today, and she had spent the last hour and a half trying to out-stubborn it. “His door is locked. He probably doesn’t want us bugging him.”

    “Since when has that stopped you?” Mark chimed in from behind her, and with a sigh Nilanjana got up, proving his point.

    “Carlos?” She rapped her knuckles against the door, then waited. When Carlos did not respond, she glanced back at the others, holding her hands up in a gesture of *what now?* before turning back to the door when Lusia motioned her to try again. “Are you alright?

    “Please open the door, Carlos,” she said, knocking again. “We’re worried about you.”

    There was a long moment when, again, there was only silence. Where Nilanjana was convinced that Carlos wasn’t going to come out, or answer at all.

    But, after that long moment-- which felt a lot longer than it actually was, but that might’ve just been because time was weird in Night Vale-- he did, unlocking the door and poking his head out.

    “I’m fine, Nils.” He didn’t look fine; he looked worried. Strung-out. Even his perfect hair was looking less perfect than usual, a by-product of his anxiety. He flinched when, from somewhere in his lab, there came a crackling swear and a girl’s high-pitched whimper.

    “What’s going on?” Nilanjana stood on her tip-toes in an attempt to peer around him, but unfortunately, another thing perfect about Carlos was his height.

    “It’s Cecil.” Carlos retreated from the doorway, and Nilanjana followed as he seemed to fall back into pacing a hole in his floor. “And Janice. Cecil had Janice in for an interview about her basketball team, and he forgot that it’s contract renewal season with Station Management.

    “I swear, he forgets that the radio station is dangerous,” he muttered, before Nilanjana could say anything. He pulled a small, velvet-covered black box from his lab-coat pocket, flipping open and closed the top in a rapid synchrony of soft taps. 

    “What is that for?” Nilanjana wondered, eyeing the box. She had never seen such a tiny experiment before, and thought that maybe if she asked about it, she could keep Carlos sane for a few more minutes. “Is it scientific?”

    “Oh. This?” Carlos waggled the box. “Totally scientific. Totally.”

    “Oh. Cool.”

    All they could hear from the radio now was the weather report, a fast-paced, frantic song that sounded just as Carlos felt. He shoved down the overwhelming urge to call the station, but that didn’t stop his phone from appearing in his hand regardless.

    His heart leapt into his throat when it buzzed, a text from Cecil filling the screen: made it out of station. Can you watch Janice?

    “They made it,” Carlos murmured. “He wants me to watch Janice.” He glanced up, thumbs already moving across the keyboard, typing out a reply. “Would you guys mind if Janice hangs out here until Abby gets out of work?”

    Nilanjana brightened. “Sure!” She said. “I think Lusia has been wanting to show off her potatoes.”

    She had never seen Carlos look so relieved. He dashed off another reply, his shoulders slumping. “Thanks.”

    The scientist shrugged. “No problem. Janice is nice. Cecil is nice. Do you want me . . .” she paused. “Do you want some alone time?”

    “I would like that, I think.” Carlos raked a hand through his hair. His eyes held the tiniest bit of warmth and his lips the smallest of smiles as he looked at her, though they were mostly obscured by worry. “Thanks, Nils.”

---

    Carlos was out of the lab before Cecil had even pulled into the parking lot, his lab-coat fluttering at his heels as he all but ran to the car.

    “I was so worried,” he said, when the engine cut and Cecil got out. “Is Janice okay?”

    “I’m okay,” Janice said from the passenger’s seat, her voice small. Her face was pale, but still she managed a smile. “Uncle Cecil and Intern Geoff distracted Station Management so I could get to the elevator.”

    “She was very brave,” Cecil added. He was pale too, and clearly shaken. He gave Carlos a quick kiss before stepping away to retrieve Janice’s wheelchair from the backseat. “I have to get back to the station before they realize I’m gone,” he mumbled, half to himself, once Janice was settled into the chair. 

    “Go back to the station, Uncle Cecil.” Janice wheeled herself forward, heading for the lab ramp. “I’ll text you when Mom comes to get me.”

    “Are you sure you’re okay?” Cecil asked, and Carlos suspected that it was his hand on Cecil’s arm that kept him from going, scooping her up, and putting her back in the car where he was sure she would be safe; he was having the same thought himself. 

    “Yeah,” came her answer, “thank you for the interview, Uncle Cecil. I had fun.”

    Cecil sighed. “Alright. I love you.”

    She cast him another smile and a wave, and then was gone, disappeared inside the lab where Carlos was certain Lusia would be upon her, urging her to insult her potatoes.

    “I should go,” Cecil said, resigned. “The weather report won’t last forever. It’s quite nice out today.”

    “It is,” Carlos agreed, “but don’t go yet. I wanted to tell you . . .”

    Cecil turned to him, questions rising behind his beautiful, kaleidoscope eyes. But before he could voice any of them, Carlos forged on, “things like these, where you’re in danger at the station- they . . . they make me realize that I can’t imagine my life without you in it anymore. Me without you is like- is like me without science. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

    “Carlos, what are you saying?”

    “I’m saying . . .” Carlos pulled the box from his pocket, sinking down to one knee like he’d seen people in movies do, flipping the box open as he did to reveal a shining silver band. “I’m saying you should marry me, Cecil. Because I want to marry you, and-”

    “Yes!” Carlos didn’t think he’d ever seen Cecil cry, but he was crying now, slow tears trickling down his face as he stared not at the ring but at Carlos as if he was the entire world. “Yes. I will marry you. I’d be *so happy* to marry you.”

    Carlos rose, smiling even as he began to cry, too. He took Cecil’s hand, kissing the back of his hand before sliding the band onto his ring finger.

    “I- I have to get back to the station.” Cecil’s voice wasn’t higher than a whisper. “The weather report is almost done.”

    “Go,” Carlos told him. “We’ll talk more tonight.”

    “Okay.” Cecil kissed him, and for a second Carlos’s whole universe was that kiss. “I’d like that.”

    It was reluctance with which he broke the kiss, but it was with something close to giddy joy that the Voice of Night Vale got back into his car, feeling, for once, that he was ready to face the wrath of Station Management as he started the car and drove away from the lab.

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

Sexiled (Part 16/23) ~ Steve Rogers x Reader ~ College!AU

A/N: Hello my lovelies! Happy Monday. I hope everyone is doing alright and staying safe and sane. 

So I am excited (but also sad) to say that Sexiled is almost complete. I have the next few parts basically ready for posting. And I should have the story completely written and edited in the next few days. Once I have everything done, I’ll schedule the remainder of the story and I will update the masterlist with the scheduled post dates so you can keep an eye out in case tumblr is eating my notifs. So for now onto the story. 

Summary: Girls night and subsequent studying with Steve. Are your friends ever going to figure it out? 

Characters/Pairings: Steve x Reader, Natasha, Wanda, Skye

Rating: T

Warnings: Language. Feels? Fluff. 

Word Count: 1487

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

After an exam, turning in your final writing assignment, and completing your last two labs of the semester you were practically skipping back to your room. Most of the doors on the floor were open as people packed to go home for Thanksgiving. You could hear the laughter coming from your room from the elevator.

“I can’t believe you started the party without me,” you announced before you walked in.

“We didn’t start anything,” Skye called back.

Wanda and Skye were on your bed, and Nat was standing on hers trying to string up the last of what looked like eight strings of fairy lights.

Wanda started to get up, but you waved her off, stowing your bag under your desk.

“Nat, what are you doing?”

“The lighting in this room sucks. And you said you liked the little strand that I had on my wall. So when I found these for cheap I figured why not.”  

“And eight strings doesn’t seem like overkill?” you teased.

“Oh be quiet. Hurry up and change. Sweatpants are mandatory.”

“Okay, okay.”

You quickly went to the bathroom to change into your favorite sweatpants and Steve’s hoodie. When you came back Natasha had gotten the last strand up and the room was illuminated only by fairy lights. It was very calming, almost magical.  

“Whoa.”

“You like?” Nat asked with a hopeful grin.

“I love.”

“Good,” Nat smiled as she sat on her desk. “Because I wasn’t taking them down. This took five hours.”

“Oh my god, Nat.”

You giggled and rolled your eyes as you crawled onto her bed.

“Worth it.”

“It’s perfect,” you agreed.

 A few hours later there were half eaten pizza boxes piled on your desk and you were laying with your head hanging off the edge of Nat’s bed with your legs against the wall.  

“What do you think the guys are doing right now?” Skye asked the room.

“Drinking whatever beer Tony smuggled in and playing video games,” Nat snorted.

“Somebody pass the Oreos,” Wanda called from her spot on the floor.

“Here you go,” Skye dangled the pack in front of her face. “Who’s got the Twizzlers?”

“Catch.”

Nat tossed the pack across the room and Skye caught it easily.

“Thank you.”

“So, how’s it going with Barnes?”

Skye’s smile turned soft as she dragged her knees up to her chest.

“It’s good. He’s such a good guy. It’s a nice change of pace from my ex,” Skye’s tone dropped and you stifled a growl.

She had told you all about Ward and all you could say was that he was lucky he didn’t live in the state because you would have gone and kicked his ass.  

“You guys are really cute together,” Wanda cooed. “He never smiled this much when he was with Dot.”

Skye blushed slightly, clearly pleased.  

“That’s because Dot was sucking his soul out of him,” Natasha grumbled.  

“He makes me really happy. And he’s easy on the eyes.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“Are you guys going to make it official soon?” Wanda asked softly.

“I think so. I mean, it’s still early, but it looks like it’s going that way.”

“See, y/n, that’s how it works. You like someone. You go out on dates and then start a relationship.”

You rolled your eyes nudging her shoulder with your knee.

“Oh really? I had no idea. Thanks for clearing that up,” you sassed, earning you a flick on the ear.

“Ow.”  

“Come on,” she practically whined. “You and Steve have been basically dating for months. You spend literally all of your time together. You’re even going home with him for Thanksgiving. When are you going to tell him how you feel?”

“Who says that I haven’t?” you asked coyly.

“Have you?” Wanda asked with knowing eyes. You had to wonder if she somehow knew. She was talented like that.

You considered fessing up.

“There’s no way,” Nat interjected before you could speak. “If she’d told Steve, they’d be together and insufferable.”

You shrugged. Skye was doing an admirable job of suppressing a laugh.

“I’m happy with where Steve and I stand. Isn’t that enough?”

Sweetheart that she is, Wanda smiled and nodded.

“As long as you’re happy. We just don’t want you to miss out on a good thing.”

“I appreciate that, Wanda.”

“But speaking of meeting parents,” Skye started, saving you. “Wanda. I heard a rumor that you’re meeting Sam’s parents this weekend.”

Wanda’s cheeks turned as red as her signature leather jacket. She and Sam had gone public a couple of days after his birthday and you’d been relieved you didn’t have to keep that secret for long.

“Yes. They’re coming up on Wednesday. They’ve invited me and Pietro to join them for dinner.”

“That’s going to be really nice.”

“I’m really nervous.”

“Don’t be,” you soothed. “They’re really nice. And they’re going to love you.”

“I hope so,” she sighed.  

The four of you stayed up talking until nearly five in the morning, so you didn’t wake up to meet Steve until after noontime. You watched him from the doorway to the study lounge, admiring his focus. When he noticed your presence, he lit up with a wide smile.

“Hey, sweetness.”

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” You pushed off the wall and took his outstretched hand as he pulled you between his legs. “How was guy’s night?”

“It was fun. We played Call of Duty, and Tony managed to sneak in a couple six packs.”

You chuckled at Nat’s accurate prediction.

“What?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Nothing.”

“I missed sleeping next to you last night,” Steve admitted as you carded your fingers through his hair.

“I did too.”

“Did you have fun with the girls though?”

You nodded happily.

“It was a lot of fun. It was nice to have all of us together for once and just be able to talk. And being done with all the assignments was nice too.”

“Mmm. What did you all talk about?”

You smirked and shook your head. “That is privileged information. Girl’s night code.”

“Oh. Right. Very official.”

“It’s a binding contract. I’m sure you guys have the same.”

“Oh yeah. Of course. I can tell you that the guys did are really rooting for me to ask you out. For the most part.”

“For the most part?”

“Mhmm. Tony thinks you can do better.”

You chuckled, “I mean…”

Steve narrowed his eyes.

“I’m kidding.” You leaned down to kiss him tenderly. “You are everything I have ever dreamed of.”

He pulled you into his lap, touching your foreheads together.

“You are better than anything I could have dreamed of.”

“Did you tell them?” you asked after a quiet tender moment.

“I thought about it. I probably would have if they’d let me get a word in edgewise,” he rolled his eyes. “At this point I think they just like to hear themselves talk.”

“Wanda actually asked outright if I’d told you how I felt,” you admitted.

“Did you tell her the truth?”

“Didn’t get the chance. Nat said there was no chance. She’d think we’d be insufferable if we were together.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhmm.”

“They’re going to be so pissed when they find out,” he chuckled.  

“I’m looking forward to it,” you grinned kissing him once before extracting yourself and unpacking your books.

 You were taking a break between your Chem and Bio lab reports when Steve spoke up.

“Oh, I didn’t get to tell you. Erskine does remember me.”

“Really? How do you know?”

“I went to his office hours yesterday to ask about the atomic orbital stuff, and I was the only one there. So after he helped me, I decided to thank him whether he remembered me or not. He did.”

You smiled smugly.

“Told ya.”

“Yeah. Yeah. You were right. Anyways, he said he recognized me right away and he was glad to see me doing so well. He also invited me to see his lab after we get back from break.”

“That’s so cool. I’m so excited for you.”

“Thanks, sweetness.”

“Do you feel better knowing he remembers you?”

He hummed, shaking his head slightly.

“You know me well. Yeah. I do. He had such a big impact on my life. It’s nice to know that he cares as much about his patients as I hope to someday.”

You rested your chin on your hand listening intently as he launched into a rant about the need for compassion in medicine. After about ten minutes he seemed to realize he’d been ranting.

“Sorry, I.”

“You’re going to be such a good doctor.” You surged forward, cutting off his apology with a kiss. “Do not apologize. You are so hot when you talk about the things you’re passionate about.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked with a smirk, waggling his eyebrows. “You must love when I talk about you.”

“You certainly won’t catch me complaining,” you agreed.  

~~~~~~~~~ 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy. 

Tag Lists are Open please send an ask. Strike throughs didn’t work

Sexiled Tag List 

@yourspecialcrush @part-time-patronus​ @impala-with-wings​ @the-stories-in-my-head-95​ @zlixlle @peter-parker-steve-bucky​ @encounterthepast​

@holygaygal​ @hista-girl�� @steves-on-a-plane​ @juliagolia87​ @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t​ @musicfreak180 @captainscanadian​ @viarogers

Steve/Chris Tag List 

@isaxhorror​ @peachykeen3502​ @patzammit​ @wordlesscaptain​ @coffeebooksandfandom​​ @hereisanapplepie​ @mywinterwolf​ @straightforwardly​

Marvel Tag List 

@hdthdthdt​​  @sophiatomlinson23​ @misty-panther @supermusicallee​ @scarlettsoldier​ @acupofhotlatte​ @slender--spirit​ @petitesmate​ @libbymouse​

Permanent Tag List 

@iamwarrenspeace​ @jayzayy​ @bexboo616​ @neoqueen306​ @santheweird​ @rowenaravencalw​ @buckitybarnes​ @prxttybirdz​ @sergeantjbuckybarnes​ @captainsamwlsn​ @broitsmydick @ailynalonso15​ @nyxveracity​ @queenoftrash97​ @walkingtravesty97​ @lamia-maizat @memyselfandmaddox​ @lowkeybuckyb​ @whiskey2011​ @averyrogers83​ @lovingpeterparker @buckybarneshairpullingkink​ @beansparker​ @coralphantomninja​ @xxashy999xx​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @ravennightingaleandavatempus​ @paintballkid711​ @whosmarisaaarw​ @silverkitten547​ @yknott81​ @mmmmmmmmmchicken​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @crispy-kitten​ @isabelcrichards​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @loving-life-my-way​ @geeksareunique​ @rachelsficcollections​

[thevirtualcanvas]

Of touch and time

Mando x Reader [GN - for the time being]

Suitable for all. No TW.

It's been three weeks since Mando picked you up from your home world, scared and alone. How will things change going forward and just what is he doing with this small alien child?

The thrum of the engine had become a comfort, one of few in the weeks you'd spent aboard the Razor Crest. The other was the delightful sounds of the little green companion who'd found itself becoming your comfort and outlet as you dealt with the blows of grief from losing the last of your family. His, at least you thought it was a he, smiles and gurgles of  joy as he ambled around the deck after you and his adoptive father gave you a small glimmer of hope in a very uncertain time.

You had nothing to your name, bar the clothes on your back and the pulse rifle currently stored in the Mandalorian's personal armoury. Speaking of, he had been very – quiet. Not that he hadn't been before, but since rescuing you on Arbor there was an air of tension between you both, as though he couldn't quite decide what to do with you, and as such just left you to wander aimless and listless about the small, confines of his ship.

For three weeks you dragged your sorry self through the grief, incapable of making a decision for yourself. Left wondering which pitiful rock the Tin Man would leave you on. He never did, he simply parked the ship on an outer reach, left the child tucked away in the cubby and lingered on you with as though trying to say something, before leaving with a turn of his cloak and disappearing into the terrain. You mostly sat in the same spot, drowning in sallow thoughts and reliving those last moments, picking at your fingers, your borrowed tunic, anything to try and drag you away from that pained look on your Father's face as the Mandalorian coddled you onto his ship. Somewhere in the silence, the sound of a pressurised door would open, a guff of exertion and a small beige bundle would be at your feet, arms outstretched, begging to be picked up.

“C'mon then, little one. Let's see what we have let for you.”

You open the rations cooler, pulling out sticks of jerky for the little green alien to chew on enthusiastically as you rocked him against your hip. A little burp would indicate his fill and he would bury into your chest, snuggling into the smell of his dad's spare tunic. Soon, he would sleep, elongated ears twitching as he slept soundly and you would find a wall or a crate and lethargy would take over your body and you would sleep with the child bundled against you like he was the only thing keep you sane.

Boots clanking against the grate woke you. A rustle of metal and fabric. A tinny huff and the sight of Beskar roused you from your nap, the little one grumbled, pulled from his sleep against your breast.

“Welcome back.” You looked at him as you rose to your feet, shushing the child as the disturbance made him a little cranky. Something about the Mandalorian unnerved but also comforted you, you couldn't place it. There was an atmosphere, ironically. He a man of few and concise words; he seemed to have a lot to say, yet left them unsaid. Starting conversations with agitated huffs, heavy silence and direct instructions. And you, with one companion incapable of speaking common and the other unwilling, you lost the will to speak at all.

Mando nodded as he placed his rifle back in the armoury, and slung the pack from his back onto the nearest crate.  The child was awake completely now, chatting to his Dad from your arms as though the Mandalorian knew exactly what he was talking about.

“How has he been?” He asked, voice soft and laced with static through the vocoder. He reached for the little green alien, and took him from your arms, bundling him up against his own chest and giving him the once over as his bundle patted at the cool metal with animated hands.

You missed the warmth instantly. “Fine, he escaped within the first hour of your leave. He's eaten, I changed him and we've slept the rest of the time.”

A grunt of acknowledgement came from him as the visor tilted towards the pair of big watery eyes that demanded his attention. “And you?” He was looking at you now, you think, it was hard to tell but you had a sense of eyes on you. The tilt of the visor led you to believe he was concerned, as you attempted to decipher the armour clad man.

You grumbled to yourself, eyes hitting the deck. You weren't hungry, you never were anymore. “I'm fine.”

Mando moved the child onto one hip and reached into the rucksack; he pulled out a small box and handed it to you. “There was a Naboo baker in the bazaar.” As if that had explained everything. He waited for you to open the box, finding a bundle of bean buns, still warm to the touch. “You're not used to the rations, but you should eat something.”

The small action had shook you, here you were thinking the man was ready to jettison you out into the cold void of space and he'd thought of your grief enough to buy you a treat. You looked at box, decorated in blues and ribbons, and tried not to cry, an overwhelming sense of guilt and selfishness overcame you. The Mandalorian sidestepped you, ignoring the child's grabbing hands towards the baked goods. He made his way towards the cockpit, not caring about platitudes when he felt a tug on his cloak. He turned his helm to see you, hand balled tight into the coarse material, lips thinned and eyes cinched to keep the tears from betraying you. Your hand trembled, vying you to grab onto to some part of him, something that was human, calling out for some familiarity, and warmth.

“Thank you,” you managed, lip wobbling, knuckles white.

He waited, until you calmed, until you'd processed enough to let go of his cloak. “Eat,” he repeated with a soft rumble he saved for the child. “We set off into hyper-space in twenty. You'll need to be in your seat in fifteen.”

He disappeared up the rungs of the ladder, leaving you to your privacy and you ate all but two of the buns. Leaving one for the child, and one for him. A warm feeling flushed across your skin, not just from the tears but from this one small act of kindness and the hope it gave you.

-----

Two days later found you on a small planet a few hundred thousand miles away from Tattoine. Full of moisture farmers, scrap sellers, and the occasional Jawa scampering about the underbelly of the bazaar. The Mandalorian had dragged you out of the ship; well, he'd told you they were going out, threw a poncho in your direction and put the baby in a bandolier hidden by his cloak.

“Stay close,” he warned. There were no imps here, but a good variety of vagabonds, opportunists and slavers who would take one look at you and decide you were worth the credits to some warlord or senator. Both of which would use you for unspeakable purposes and the bounty hunter would much rather avoid that.

A man named Greef had sent him a tip about a scrap seller who'd come across some interesting pieces, swore they were Jedi, from Coruscant. But it was all strictly hush hush. The imps were fractured, but still strong, their ears and eyes still reached certain parts of the Galaxy beyond the reach of the New Republic. With one hand on his blaster and the other on the bandolier to keep the child quiet, Mando guided you through a back alley of sandstone buildings laced in scrap metal, tubes, rubber piping and electrical cabling from an era just settling into the dust. You were dubious to say the least, being the grandchild of a defected clone just about anything to do with the Jedi and the old Republic made your skin crawl. Your grandfather had shown you the faded scar at the base of his neck where the Jedi whom he'd served used the force to tear the chip from his skull. Saving both their lives long enough to escape Coruscant to go into hiding. Your grandmother would smack him across the back of the head playfully.

“You always embellish the story, my love. Don't be so dramatic. You make it sound like I was some naïve youngling bouldering through with force in tow. Ignore your grandfather, little one. The story changes every time he tells it.”

She would tease your cheeks, and potter off, watering her plants and reading her books, casting a loving look at the back of your grandfathers head each time she passed. He always looked so much older than her, despite the fact she was twice his age, their dynamic had always thrilled you.

“I don't like this,” you muttered pawing away at the happier time.

Mando agreed. “That's why I brought you. I need you to tell me if the artefacts are fakes.”

You both stood at heavy set door, settled in the shade as though the sun had forgotten it's existence. The child wriggled in his perch, something agitated him. Mando spoke in Mando'a, the words calmed you all, though he aimed it at the child. Once the little one was settled he rattled his fist against the door four times in bouts of two. A hollowing minute went by before the door peeked open. A beady eye looked at your party before opening up a few inches more, encouraging you over the threshold. A grizzled Toydarian greeted you, moss green and with fractured wings – it hobbled down a corridor leading you both with distaste.

The alien snorted, “This way, quickly.” They hurried on their short, stubby legs, leading you and the Mandalorian past a slew of doors, with maker-knows-what behind them. The sounds were overwhelming; a barrage of shouts in a myriad of tongues, bangs, sounds of blasters and screams seeped from under the gaps in the doors. You held your rifle in your hands, it would be useless, of course in such close contact, but it gave you a comfort and a blip of confidence.

You were led into a dome shaped room, a fire pit in the centre and pews decorated in plush linens and expensive hanging lights. Heavy plumes of incense hung thick in the air, designed to relax but it only served to set your nerves alight. In the centre sat another Toydarian, with a knowing smirk and swathed in jewels. They were no mere scrap merchants, of that you were certain.

“Mando,” you hissed, heart palpitating. Your hand tapped the back of his wrist, feeling a blossom of warmth through the back of his glove. For a moment you thought he would reciprocate, giving you the reassurance you so desperately needed, yet he stood fast. Helmet directed at their contact.

“Ah, Mandalorian. Good to see you, my friend. Please, come and take a seat.” The Toydarian leant back against the head of the pew, rings clinking against their spindly fingers, eyes watching from it's tilted head for your reaction.

Mando nodded, but made no movement forward. “Setu, it's been a long time.”

From your position behind your Tin Man you felt him relax at your touch, releasing some of the tension you both held. The situation was sketchy at best, but it wasn't the first nor last situation Mando would find himself in where danger was afoot.

The alien let out a croaked laugh and burst into a strained wet, cough. “Still don't trust me, eh, Mando? A man could be insulted.”

Mando let out a contemptuous sigh, “Good thing you're not a man, Setu.” He folded his arms above the child and eyed the alien down through his helm. “You said you had artefacts – so lets talk.”

-------

An exchange; a bounty for the Jedi artefacts, which you'd verified. A couple of scrolls and glass cube, a holocron. Your grandmother had one left over from when she abdicated the order. Why your Tin Man needed Jedi relics was beyond you, but it wasn't your place to ask. He led you back to the Razor Crest, handed you the baby and left with one instruction. Don't leave the ship. So, for two nights and days on a small planetoid with too many suns, you waited and you watched. One eye firmly on the child who had an unusual knack for disappearing among the crates, nooks and crannies and reappearing when he wanted feeding or comfort. The other on the the hatch, watching the metal creak and groan under the planet's heat, air shimmering as midday sun made temperatures aboard the Razor Crest soared.

On the first night alone with the child you were fearful, the tension palpable. It was the first time you'd been alone in a very long time. The cold night let your imagination run wild. Bounty hunters were waiting in the shadows of the parking deck. Empire elite were stood outside of the Razor Crest, blasters held high with smug grins under fierce helmets. The sounds of hull settling as the desert winds blew tricked your mind into believing salvers were canvassing the ship, looking for entry points. Sleep didn't come easy, but the child seemed undisturbed lulling into an easy slumber as the sun slipped from the sky. He, at least had faith in his Father's success. You watched his strange little face twitch in it's deep sleep, wrinkles moving softly as it's little mouth let out a tiny mewl. His tiny claws coiled around the blanket as he tussled in his dreams, the metal dome from the top of the thruster nestled under his chin.

“At least you're sleeping sound little one. Wonder if your Dad is doing the same.”

The second day was strained, you could hear the bustle of the ship yard. A cornucopia of races and creeds living and working as you stilled in time. You both watched quietly from the window, searching for a friendly familiar face but seeing nothing a but a sea of strangers. Which when you thought about it left a lot of room for irony. The face you were looking for, wasn't even a face at all. You had no idea what manner of man hid behind the Beskar. What his face looked like, or the colour of his skin. Were his eyes warm, or his mouth kind? How would his hair feel, did he have any? You could visualise in your head what you think he could look like, it made you feel safe, warm. One of his tunic's clung to your skin, his scent fading from the threads. You held it tightly against your form, caught in a spiral of want and loneliness. Grief and fear beckoned at your door, it was as dark as the void and thrumming in your veins.

Then light.

Three small, green fingers rested against your forearm, a tiny beacon of warmth and hope. Somehow the child had sensed your disposition. His large, dewy eyes squinted in concentration. A wave feel over you, cocooning you, wrapping you in a field of  metaphorical light. Your mood shifted as the child fell to his bottom with a huff of exhaustion. He let out a big yawn, his mouth stretched wide and he looked to you with a sleepy smile, arms grabbing for you.

You took his slight weight in your arms and cradled him, astounded and confused about what you'd felt. His pointed lobes flickered as he breathing slowed and he fell asleep once more. You padded to and fro in the cockpit as your thoughts coalesced. Just what was this kid and why did the Tin Man have to keep hiding him? He had certainly done something to you, what he'd done, you weren't sure. Your mind would drift to the mission, and how a bounty was being collected for old Jedi relics. Surely not? This little thing, a Jedi? You placed him into his cradle, and took a seat opposite watching him sleep. His little chest rise and fell in a soft metronome. The outside world fell apart as you focused surely on the bundle in silver. What power could one so small wield? And to be with a Mandalorian at that? Which was hilarious considering your heritage. A mere three decades ago and you would have killed on another on site, funny how the galaxy changed.

Blaster fire, a solemn smile and the distinct sound of metal against metal.

You woke up, the pressurised doors opening from the base of the ship catapulting you alert. It was the middle of the night and much cooler, goosebumps graced your bare forearms as the planet's suns had disappeared. In his cradle, the child slept still. Poor little tyke must have been exhausted. You sat, and listened to the sounds in the hull, waiting for something to appear up the ladders. Blaster in hand, pointed at the top rung, you waited. A cold shiver ran down your spine as you shook away at the fatigue that clawed at your mind. You held your breath as a foot hit the bottom rung of the ladder. You pushed yourself back against the Captain's chair as a second clang chased up to the cockpit. You heard a grunt from down below and could have screamed if your voice hadn't failed you.

The child awoke, smiling, waving a tiny hand at you as if waving good morning. He babbled conversationally and you tried to shush him the best you could, but he was already wriggling out of his blankets and making his way to his little feet.

A glimmer of something dark appeared at the top of the ladder. “You know, if I really was a raider, you'd be dead by now.”

The child let out a laugh, and you slumped into the chair, limbs going limp. “Mando...” you breathed a sigh of relief.

His head appeared, and the rest quickly followed. His fingers tapped quickly at the controller on his wrist and the lights of the console gave the Razor Crest enough light so he could see you both. He grunted a greeting and dropped his rifle against the back of one of the co-pilot seats along with the backpack he had hauled over his shoulder. As the strap of the bag wrapped around the back of the chair he winced, a pained hiss mottled by the vocoder.

You were on your feet instantly, inspecting him. Beskar was pocked with blaster burns, gunpowder and caked in blood and mud. “What happened to you?”

“ Mhm, m'fine. Just Setu's bounty.”

Your fingers hovered over the metal of his chest plate, fingers itching to rest themselves against it. “Did you get the bounty?” You asked, voice low, eyes scanning the damage.

A groan of pain crackled through the helmet. “Yeah, he was holed up in some caves outside of the city with a crew. Knew I was coming and put up a fight. It's fine. I have the artefacts.”

It's fine? Fine. No it bloody wasn't. He could have died, and  you would have been stranded with a magic kid and no idea on where to go next. He didn't even leave you with comms. You balled up your fingers and they wrung against the armour, a deft cling rang through the cockpit followed by the sounds of your wailing. “It's not fine! I had no idea where you'd gone, or if you were coming back! I kept thinking the Empire or some kriffing raiders would blow a whole in the hull every five minutes. It's not been fine since I was dragged from Arbor! My family is dead, my home is gone and then you left me too!!!”

He ignored the pain as you wailed against his chest, sure he'd been out in the wilds hunting down a rival gang for Setu. Leteron's were scrappy and resourceful little bastards, and with four arms meant they could carry three more blasters than him, but he managed – eventually. Beyond all of that, Din knew what it was like to be torn away from everything you'd ever known and forced to cope with a strange situation.  He could understand your plight. So he waited.

You crushed against him, feeling the cold beat of metal against your chest as your wrapped your arms around him. He had some height on you, so your head rested against the top of his shoulder, tears dripping into the thick cotton cloak. The sound of babbling came from your feet and you could feel his tiny fingers against your calf, like he was trying to hug you.

A sigh of frustration came from the Mandalorian, his kid always won in the end. “Fine,” he said looking down through his visor at the small mediator. “But no crying the next time I put you in the fresher.” You heard the small mewl of acknowledgement.

With uncertainty, Din wrapped both of his arms around you. Encasing you into a warmth you settled into your very soul. He was unsure, uncomfortable, but he bared it. He still remembered being carried and held as a boy, soaring into the sky, along with a member of the Death Watch. The warmth and compassion shown by the warriors that saved him, shaped him. He supposed you just needed the same. His thick gloves curled around the opposing shoulder and brought you closer. Sure, he smelt worse than a decomposing Rancor, but you didn't mind. Soon your wails curbed to hiccuped sobs, and trembling, you let go. Knowing that if you didn't soon, Mando might soon keel over. In a moment of uncharacteristic affection he cupped the back of your neck with a gloved hand, running his thumb along your jaw.

“Jate, udesla jii,” Good, calm now.

Electricity ran through you as he reached over you to pick the child up. You held your cheek where the leather had traced and found yourself clamouring for it all over again.

“Tin man?” He looked at you an nodded, child on his hip as took a seat in the Captain's chair. “Thank you, for rescuing me. I'm sorry I shouted.”

Mando shook his head, as the child patted the Beskar with growing concern. “It's fine. Can you get the bacti spray for me?” He groaned as the child tried splay his little fingers against the metal – what was the kid trying to do? “No,” he directed at the alien. “I'll use the stim, understand, adiik?”

You watched as the child sat, dejected on his Father's lap, the metal dome of the thruster tight in his little claws.

“Sure,” you said, looking at the bag containing the artefacts. “And what about the Jedi relics?”

“They're going to help me find his people.” He replied, again, as if his short answers solved anything.

Curiosity took the better of you, so you took a peek. Peeling back the tan lip of the bag, a soft glow filled the contents. You grabbed it with both hands, pulling back the hessian slip that encased it. In the palm of your hand sat the holocron cube, no bigger than the box your bean buns sat it. Except, this was different from a bakery box. Get a true look at it, you noticed it was glass, adorned in intricate gold and it lived. From the inside you could feel a wave, a humming of life and a big change. The box lifted from your hands, a soft blue glow emitting from the glass. You stood back, confused, watching it as it floated across the cockpit and landed into the hands of the child. His shiny dome forgotten about as this new object filled both of his tiny hands. The metal corners shifted, and the cube activated.

Everything was about to change.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Summer Romance and Cinema Nights (Sriracha, Part 12.)

Description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could let you far away from all the trouble.

Part Summary: Dating a local police Chief may be way trickier than it seems. But when he turns out to be a complete fool for you, you somehow know that you can work that.

A/N: FLUFFY JIM, YAY! Also, just btw, I would like to announce that the official two songs for this fic‘s couple are: Little Secrets by Passion Pit and 3 Nights by Dominic Fike. Two brilliant, catchy songs which excellently depict the mood!

Word count: 2.9 K

Tagging: @nemodoren​ @missdictatorme​ @creedslove​

Master list: H E R E ​

That other morning, somehow everything seemed to be just perfect - Hopper, for the first time in forever, woke up on time to shower and prepare on time. He had such a good mood that he opened up his windows in his car and basically yelled every lyric of You Don't Mess Around With Jim from the window. A bold move for riding though Hawkins at half-past seven in the morning. And even bolder when you acknowledged that Hopper couldn't sing for shit. He even bought a huge Puget of flowers to welcome Florence back in the office.

When he ran inside the office, the tune was still playing outside - the office was smelling like freshly brewed coffee and just baked donuts, that made Jim even swing his hips in the beat coming out of the car. He gently put the flowers in front of Florence, who just opened up her mouth, and he danced into the office while singing the chorus. She was looking at him and she was even more surprised when Hopper didn't even lit up a cigarette as he walked through the office. Was Jim actually put through lobotomy when she was gone?

Powell and Callahan just stood there, looking at the man any of them actually didn't know. Powell then poked Callahan's side - Chief must've gotten laid and it must've been extraordinary good because there wasn't any sane explanation for any of that.

"A good night with a lady in a warm bed, Chief?" - Powell teased Hopper with a knowing smile and both of the men almost choked when Hopper just hummed back.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you and your wife would be jealous if she knew." - Hopper patted his shoulder and with another of his terrifying signing, he turned around to go turn off the radio in his car. But just as his good mood came out of nowhere, just as quickly he was brought back to life when he patiently sat in his chair and waited for your promised call.

There was no other way to name the feeling inside of him - Hopper was just straightway nervous. There wasn't any other way to put that. He was his foot and when he wasn't tapping his foot, he was tapping his fingers into his desk. When he wasn't tapping his fingers into the desk, he was constantly fetching himself a cup of coffee - it was almost a miracle because Florence hasn't seen him coming out of the office as regularly as he did that day. A lot of coffee meant that he was peeing rather often - for the first time in a long time, he felt like a living, breathing person.

The call came - soon after one in the afternoon, his phone suddenly came to life. He almost jumped at the plastic box, letting the phone fall three times on his desk. And at that moment, his head told him to act cool. Like he didn't almost shit his pants when the phone rang.

"Um... Chief of Police, Jim Hopper, at the phone, Hawkins PD. What can I help you with?" - He asked and coughed a bit. If it wasn't you, he swore that he's going to kill someone. But then he heard a burst of your laughter and he almost hummed with pleasure. His mind told him that he's the cool guy now and there's no way he's going to laugh, smile, hum or grunt.

"You're funny. Really funny. Sorry, it took me so long, I was with my mom and brother... Long story short, boring noon at the household. What about the old mill near the town, half an hour from now? I'll give you five minutes in advance." - You spoke fast because you didn't have any idea of how much of time you've got remaining.

"Of course, Mr. Black. The old mill? You say that somethin' got lost? Yeah, I'll be there in thirty minutes." - Hopper answered loud enough for Florence to hear the response, hearing you losing your cool on the other end once again.

"In thirty-five minutes, not a minute late, okay? Don't forget I have my watch on." - You whispered in the end and ended up the call for good. Hopper immediately got on his feet and looked at himself in the window, slicking his hair back and readjusting the uniform, putting his sunglasses on to look even cooler. Then he stopped at Florence's dear, still seeing you there, drawing your small little pictures, eating a single donut all day long, with a bored face, waiting for a call.

"I need to go to the old mill...-" "Because old black lost something. Again. You yelled it loud enough." - Florence told him back, having a bored look on her face. The newest Harlequin added to the library was opened in her desk and she was almost halfway through it. Which was impressive.

"I'll most likely take my lunch break as well." - Hopper informed her briefly and feared her answer since the look she gave him was already furrowed enough. - "Since you once walked in exactly on time, why not?" - She mumbled in the end, ignoring Hopper from that moment on. He basically ran into his car, holding the hat on his head.

It was less than twenty minutes on a bike when you knew roads though the Hawkins woods, but it was almost thirty minutes by car, so he really had to try and drive like a madman. But it was worth it in the end - when he parked the car, you were already sitting in the car there, having only long basketball shorts and a tight black top on. You smiled and was on your legs in no time, running towards Hopper.

When you jumped at him, circling your hands around his neck, he was seriously trying his best to keep both of you standing on your feet. When you almost sucked the breath out of him, you stepped a bit away, watching your wristwatch.

"Two minutes earlier. I'm impressed." - You mumbled, pulling him for a kiss again, closing your eyes. Then, before he had the opportunity to answer something witty back, you caught his palm and lead him to the backseats.

The half an hour on the backseat was one of the most passionate he ever had. There wasn't much space, but you figured out how to pull his pants down to his ankles, how to pull down your shorts and you just pulled the top down so he could watch your boobs bounce as you leaned both your palms into the roof and cried out with pleasure. As always, Hopper was doing and saying things that made you more than a chuckle, having you laughing on his lap at one time.

Half an hour later, you were both laying on the back seat, breathing heavily. You never remembered sex being as good as it was with Hopper. But it was definitely mind-blowing. When he tried to put his pants at least partially up, you stopped his arm, grinning. Your leg was spread up to the air and it seemed like you're in pain.

"I have a spasm. Hold on a second." - You begged, still having the leg in the air. The least Hopper could do was to support your leg, so he caught it in the air. After a minute, you finally got dressed, still having that selfish grin.

"What's that about?" - Jim asked as he still tried to catch his breath. It was almost awfully hot in the car. And it definitely smelled like a damn good quickie.

"Every time you'll be driving Blazer, you'll see me riding you on the backseat." - You chuckled and climbed out to stretch your back. - "Seems to me like I'm already winning the little remember me game."

"You'll see about that. What about the movies, have you thought about that?" - Jim took out one of the cigarettes, closing the door behind you, leaning his ass into the car. He still had his shirt and t-shirt untugged, but he knew it can hold on a minute. He offered you from the pack as well, but you shook your head.

"How do you want to execute that crazy plan?" - You asked back, slowly smoothing his left arm before entwining your fingers with his. Jim took a second to think about that, lighting the cigarette up.

"Well, you'll go first and buy yourself a ticket. I'll go second so people would be less suspicious. I'll put on the grumpy asshole fave everyone knows and pretend to meet you in there. The rest is a mystery." - Jim answered thoughtfully and laughed, when you playfully punched his shoulder, laughing as well. He put his arm around your shoulder, bringing you even closer, kissing the top of your head.

"You really thought about that, huh?" - You mumbled, putting your arms around his waist, nudging your face into the shirt of his uniform. - "Nobody told me you're handsome, a good cook and clever. Almost too good to be true."

"Yeah, keep that talk to yourself, will you? We'll need some pretty good actin' if we're supposed to make people believe that." - Hopper answered back, puffing out a bit of smoke.

"Come on, no-one in the city actually believes that Jim Hopper, the asshole from downtown, would be able to pick up a college student." - You mumbled back, poking fun of him even further. - "I can do a survey to prove you, huh?"

"Oh, shut up, smarty." - Hopped answered back and this time, he was actually laughing. You laughed back, slowly letting go of him.

"So I'll see you at the cinema, then?" - You licked your lips with expectations, having the devil in your eyes. Hopper nodded. - "The last movie starts at 8:15. If you're not there, I'm going on my own, old man." - You laughed while you walked to your bike. Jim just looked at his boots, gulping down your sour comment. You meant it as a joke, but it was nothing but the truth. He was watching you riding down the hill before he finished the cigarette - after that, he finally tugged his shirt back and got into the car. 

You were right - how did it come that you were right so often? Just as he turned around to drive backward, he was seeing you riding him like crazy. And he smiled at that. 

Just as he told you, he meant to keep his word. Once 8:15 came, he was already turning the engine off. 

You, on the other hand, were in the line since 8:00. You put on your best denim jacket and a red t-shirt under it to bring out the colors even more. You were looking like a million bucks - and of course, none other than Steve and his asshole best friends noticed you. Steve was harmless and sweet when he was alone or around Aiden, but once he was hanging with Carol and Tommy, he was a disaster. 

“Look who we got here.” - Steve grinned from ear to ear when he saw you standing in the line, coming to you like a cocky son of a bitch he was pretending to be. You smiled back, straightening a bit. 

“Hey there, Steve. Carol. Tommy.” - You nodded to each one of them with a stiffened smile. These two were total assholes and jerks - Carol was the typical jealous bitch from your neighborhood who surely won't make it far in her life just because she always stuck her disgusting nose into the lives of other people and Tommy... Well, he hadn't got a brain, so his life must've kind of suck. 

“What are you doing here? Alone? On your own?” - Carol asked, nuzzling into her boyfriends' armpit. The rumors had it that she's fucking him since the seven grade, but you didn't care for your own good.

“I'm just going to see a movie on my own. You know, adults are fond of spending time on their own.” - You snorted back at her, seeing that bitch rolling her eyes while she chewed on the bubblegum. Soon, you were standing there with Steve only, because Carol hated you for some reason and Tommy H always followed her around like a tail.

“If you're alone, do you want me to... Uh... Join you?” - Steve asked silently, watching your face. You giggled a bit and smiled at him. Every time he was all alone and not under the influence of that bitter bitch and dumb jock, he was a sweetheart. You knew that since you knew Steve from the time he was six. - “They won't be mad. I don't feel like going out with them either.” - He swore and felt his breath smelling like beer and cigarettes. Which immediately brought back Hopper on your mind. 8:08. He still had seven minutes. 

“I was serious. I don't mind being on my own, Steve. It helps me with cleaning my head. You should go and enjoy... The New Star Wars.” - You looked at his ticket and smiled. You bought a ticked on the other movie and hoped that Hopper won't buy the wrong one. 

In the end, Steve nodded. You watched as his eyes controlled the situation around and after he was sure that Tommy or Carol can't see him, he offered you a hug. This one was a friendly one - you could tell from the smile he had on. It was the honest Steve Harrington smile. That was why you accepted. 

“Enjoy the movie... No matter what you'll be watching.” - He said before he ran off to the line for popcorn and some soda, finding Tommy and Carol still hugging. Oh, that bitch was definitely talking trash, again, but you didn't care. You took your place in the line as well, planning to buy yourself at least some soda. 

Hopper entered the cinema like a hurricane - he had a beige blazer you couldn't recognize, definitely some new jeans and a shirt you would've sworn that you haven't seen in the cabin yet. He was looking bald, the colors were bringing more life into his looks and you needed to say... That Hopper was looking fucking great. His blue eyes found you in a second, being almost the one to order, but he pretended that he didn't see you. 

Acting, you reminded yourself, you needed some good acting. You patiently waited for your Pepsi can and paid with a small smile, leaving to go through the corridor leading into the cinema, where you waited for Hopper. He almost freaked out when you suddenly came from behind the corner and let his popcorn go. 

“Hey there, Chief.” - You said almost unbelievably, letting a couple walk around you. - “I think I haven't even seen you outside the PD. How you're doing?” - You smiled and walked there by his side. Jim really knew how to act - he looked so bugged that you thought about doing something wrong. 

“I was good until now.” - He muttered out, bringing the popcorn closer to his body, nervously looking throughout the hall. You walked straight to the most distanced seats, looking at Hopper. 

“Jesus, come and sit next, everyone knows you're all alone here.” - You rolled your eyes and Hopper slowly followed you. You were a good actress when you needed to be one. You could act like a serious brat. Good acting from the both of you, indeed. 

“Move.” - Hopper grunted out angrily, acting like his night was just ruined. You sat next to each other in the back row, away from all the people that were for the movie actually. You both sat there without emotions in your faces, Hopper was chewing on his popcorn. He was waiting for the moment when all the people finally concentrate on the movie - and he also jealously watched a couple of teenagers at the other end of the row. He sighed. 

When the right moment finally came, it almost halfway through the movie and even you seemed to enjoy it since you laughed here and there. You jumped a bit when you felt a palm caressing your knee. In one moment, your face froze and your expression changed. You looked at the making out couple, the only other people sitting in one row with you, then you looked down on his palm before catching it into yours. From that moment, you had a contained smile on your lips as you moved your shoulder to Hopper‘s to lean into him.

At the end of the movie, you both let go, both your palms suddenly feeling fucking cold. And no-one noticed a thing. It might seem to be utter nonsense, but in reality, it was a bold and almost stupid move. If anyone saw that you're holding hands, you were dead. But no-one did. 

That night, you walked home - promising Hopper that you'll call him again tomorrow.

[kaleidiope]

September Project updation post in October because, well, i’m silly

This post I’ll mainly talk about my plan for my stories, and the things that’ve changed along with my plans for them and such. This was suppose to be in September but, I procrastinated, so yeah!  And, a ‘keep reading’ line to keep things tidy looking! Also, I actually had this as a draft, but forgot about it! Also, also, please don’t mind all the spelling errors that i’m sure is in here, this is quite long, and i’m so sorry for all of that!

You all know the drill, this is an update for the story I've been working on. It was made in roughly February of 2019. Or at least, that’s when I got the idea for it. I’ve been working on it seriously since September of 2019. So, for about a year. On this blog you can find a good bit of random things about it, including drawings. A lot of the drawings I've done I never posted, maybe one day, probably never, but still! A lot of this Blog has actually been WIPS of my story. And, since those past updates, story pitches and such, a few things have changed, and that's what this is about!

First, for those who don’t know, I feel in love with One shot, Deiland, Moonlighter, Borderlands, and a few other games. Mainly One shot for it’s vibe, it’s feel. I loved it, maybe too much? And, really wanted to make something like it. I don’t see that atmosphere much, personally. On Music box maniacs, a lovely site, I was given the idea to make a melody for a character. And that’s how Umber came along. Over time, I kind of made Umber, and left her. Started trying to get into digital art, but without a tablet I tried to create a character that would be easy to free hand with a mouse. Which became Pax. Over time, I feel in love with Pax’s design. I drew him a lot, he was my first, and only OC. I’ve drawn random people and thing’s before, but he had a name. An age. And soon, a back story. He was set in a different world than Umber’s. Which, at this time, is almost abandoned. He was a potion seller’s child who only wanted to go on the adventure’s the customers where experiencing. And one day, he’d face a dragon, and possibly his fate. But that was scraped because each time I drew him, more and more, the backgrounds reminded me of Umber’s story. So, he became a child in her story and his was abandoned.  Umber was suppose to be a child traveling with no family trying to get awareness of her light to others. And once meeting Pax in another shop, he agreed to help her. So, you could say, Pax was Moonlighter based, and Umber was One shot based. The idea that her light was a bad thing and there were ‘”bad people” didn’t come until later. Though, Crimson was suppose to be a bully type of person who mocked, and even at times, almost hurt Umber. Because also, at this time, everyone was children. Once it was thought over for awhile then did we get the story line we have now. Umber was an inventor in a world suffering a seeming eternal eclipse. which was ruled by a corporation that was money hungry and didn’t care for the greater good. The world had glowing bugs that somehow emit a good amount of light, and through time and a lot messing and discovery, oddly power? Which is what the corporation sells, Starworm lights, and “batteries” of a sort. The bugs also allow some things to grow, but with them being harvested as much as they are, the corporation is killing the world. But, that won’t be their problem, they’ll be dead by the time it’s an issue. Now, we have a lot of characters and general world building stuff, along with the flora and fauna and how things work. So, let’s begin! (Yes, this is going to be a long post. I’m so sorry!) But, I have since changed a few things, which I will now state. I was pretty heck bent on giving them ages, but, I don’t wish for them to have any, anymore. This is not earth. It’s a planet without a sun. Keeping track of time is easier than days, let alone years. So for many, it’s just a toss up on how long they’ve lived for. Just a mere, rough, idea. I wanted ages for personality comparisons and height ideas for when I draw them. Which, was never my idea at first. This was just for OC’s to draw, yes, but then it became a story for them, along with for my own enjoyment and somehow it became more than that. Which, I oddly love. But, ages were more for an even sillier reason I've since abandoned as well, and I think the story’s better off now since then. Also, they were all children at a time. Adults wouldn’t even have names or faces, All adults were originally suppose to get full face masks. Instead of half masks. But Indigo ruined that, and after that, some of the characters were being made older. To fit with the personalities, for say, Talos. He was also a child, who I didn’t feel being a child would fit the character and mainly, their job in the story as a whole. So yes. The story itself wasn’t the main idea. Having OC’s to draw were. But I was given a lot of support on MBM with my story pitches, also, I enjoyed making them. So I continued. And I really enjoy this. World building has been the hardest, trying to make things make sense, like the eclipse lasting years. And the fact a moon bigger and that much closer to the planet would most likely make the planet itself, the planet’s moon, and the moon, the planet. And how is life still possible, along with, isn’t it cold? And to that, yes, yes, yes, and maybe XD Mainly, this is fantasy, yes, I do want it to make sense, yes, this isn’t earth. The people’s races aren’t our races, calling them human might just be an insult to them. I mean, they don’t even have pupils. (Thanks, odd drawing style.) So, my answer to a lot of this is, it’s not earth. This is fantasy. I’m doing this for fun. And I’ve done a lot research for something that was never suppose to be as much of a thing as it is, but i’m having too much fun to stop now. And with that as well, yes, a lot of my characters are suppose to have a deeper skin color. Talos, Mauve, Indigo, and so on, are suppose to have a more deep olive color. But, at the time of drawing a lot of them, I didn’t have the faith to execute other skin tones correctly. So I just didn’t. Just like drawing illustrations for my story. I didn’t think I would because I didn’t think I could, but i’m now willing to try. So, here is where we stand so far! I want my characters to have a rough age, but it could be depicted to give of take about three years. I’ve said I wanted Pax to be about 11, but I also see him to act older for his age and such. The idea of him being any younger seems odd, but if you wanted to give him a 9-15 age for an example, that’s more than cool. That goes for all my characters. I want a lot of my characters to look like their own character, i’m working very hard with redraws to make sure there’s noticeable differences with their noses and eye shapes and such.  I want different skin colors and face shapes and so on, but the idea of different races on such a small planet and even the idea of tanned skin in a world without the sun to give one a tan seems odd to me? But there will be differences, because I always wanted there to be. This story will indeed cover some heavy topics. Including but not limited to, alcohol, death, suicide, murder, mental and physical disorders and illnesses, such as DID, alzheimer’s, dementia, memory issues, abandonment, and a form of racism. All things are not straight out talked about or referenced, but lightly implied.  I took inspiration from a lot of things. (including places, animals, other stories and people) And I will not refer to any of it within my story, such as DID. There is already too much falseness and other wrong info on that and other things. I do not trust myself to paint it in a good light, nor a correct light. And will re-frame from actually stating a character has an identity disorder. The idea this world knows of DID and would use the same word is also something I question. But the characters disorder is based on DID. (Also, it’s Tobias.) The idea of genders is something that’s a toss up. I’ve never said anything of the sort and would rather not say anything. The idea that they have genders or sexuality is just something I don’t really want to think about and is rarely mentioned. The idea of love and such is mentioned, purely more for a joke/bit. But still I don’t wish to think of my characters with genders or those parts no matter what I refer to them as. Not mention these characters still aren’t human. I do use She/he/they pronouns for my characters and as of now have used phases like, “That guy” But, it’s become a personal running joke I want to make clear at the start of my story that it was translated and adapted to fit this worlds standers of word form. There are roughly 25 characters as of now, only five main characters, or should I say, five characters that get there point of view expressed. And about six support characters, and the rest are minor support characters. Some of these characters are only mentioned, or referenced, as an attempt to build the world. Questions are always open, and this story is undergoing many changes and constant consideration. As I learn, grow and improve my skills.  I have no hope or want for this to get big or anything of the sort. this is for fun. 100%. If it looks like I talk about this a lot, but never have anything to show for it, it’s because I want it to be perfect or close to it before I show anything. Which will be never, because I can never make perfect. I’m just trying to do the best I can and am pushing the limits of my skills to get there.  I should note, I am fine, I’m not “Pushing” myself. Which is why it’s taking the time it is.  I am really working on character personalities and keeping them coherent and sane along with the same. And talking about all this helps with that. As for now, I know what I want to do, and where I want my story to go, i’m just figuring out how to execute it best.  I’m more skilled in writing where I describe things, mainly emotions and the scene it’self. Along with script writing. I’m not skilled with writing conversations which is a large part of my story. Same with drawing backgrounds or anything that isn’t people. So my story so far reads a lot like a script due to how the conversations are laid out and due to how I describe how each thing is done. This is something I want to get a bit away from because it was purely so I wouldn’t get lost and confused with who was talking and the emotion/feel of each scene.  That’s because I have the attention span and instruction following skills of a carrot. I use my characters names far too many times along with a lot of other things I use for self help clarity which I hope to fix by the end. I do think it’d be cool to start dropping parts of the story and other things of what I have done, with the note that it could change. I feel it’d be fun, but i’m very hesitant to do so.  I do wish to make character bios and such for them all at some point and just have a post that lays down what has been decided so if anyone wants they can follow along with the process. But, that’s all a toss up as of now. Thank-you for reading, and for your time, I hope you have an amazing day! And I dearly apologize for this length! 

[noelclover]

Off The Cuff 04/08/2020

I found this article and wanted to talk about the weird turn it takes along with some misrepresentation I find in it. Quotations are in italics and it’s about RE3. Article from Rock, Paper, Shotgun.

The article starts out pretty well, talking about the game as reviews should. But about midway we see it turning rather weird, starting from about here:

The star of the show though, without a doubt, is Nemesis. Nemesis is the very archetype of the Relentless Brute, and looks like what would happen if Davy Jones from Pirates of the Carribean spent all his money on protein shakes, and then only had a fiver left to make an outfit for a night out at a BDSM club. But alas, Nemesis is neither safe, sane nor consensual: he would almost certainly be thrown out of said club, after being found endgame shitfaced, strangling a teenager outside the loos in his bin bag trenchcoat.

Given that there isn’t really anything sexual about the bio-weapon unless you have rather strange fetishes best kept to yourself, it’s really strange to see this comparison. For one thing, sure, Nemesis has always had this weird look to him. Clothing wise he’s got some belts on, but it always gave the impression of a straitjacket rather than a BDSM suit. Again, unless you’ve got a fetish which you should most likely keep private given that it’s Nemesis.

I guess Nemesis wants to kill you, but it seems incidental, almost, when it happens – a regrettable side effect of his true passion, which is to choke you, hurl you through walls, and just generally physically overwhelm you. All this mauling makes his presence incredibly oppressive, where it wouldn’t necessarily be were he just a super-efficient killing machine.

It’s... rather bizarre to put the aggression Nemesis has in this game like this. We know that Nemesis is a Tyrant (as in the bio-weapon class), experimented on to a higher degree. Like all Tyrants, they’re rather brutal. Not necessarily the most efficient, but most certainly brutal and Nemesis has that dialed up. The reason why he punches Jill is because (a) we assume that Jill is putting up a fight and (b) she has HP and if the game decided to ignore the fact that Jill has HP for all his attacks, which would be the case were he a “super-efficient killing machine”, we would get players complaining that he simply isn’t fair.

I mean, let’s be honest here, most of us don’t like the idea of instant-kill attacks, and while we’re probably alright with super bosses having an instant-kill or two, imagine a boss who’s every move is an instant-kill to demonstrate that they’re “super-efficient”. My rambling aside, at this point we can see the article going the way of “violence against women in vidya”.

I do kind of want to flag the whole “violence against women” aspect of Nemesis, and of the game in general, as it’s hard to deny it’s a theme, or that it’s presented with at least a little relish.

And here we have it. It’s very strange to call it a theme of the game, or something presented with relish given that zombies and bio-weapons simply don’t care for your sex, gender, religion or whatever box you want to place yourself into, they’re, in universe, there to kill you. Nemesis happens to be beating up Jill because she’s the protagonist who happens to be a part of the unfortunate S.T.A.R.S (which is super bad ass by the way. S.T.A.R.S, not the beating.).

Given that it’s an action game with a female protagonist, I really think stating that “violence against women” as a theme is presented in the game as really, really weird and feels like it’s missing the point.

But… yeah. There were moments while playing when I just felt uncomfortable. Jill isn’t too obviously a vessel for anyone’s fetishes, but realistic as she is, she’s clearly designed to be sexy. And she spends an awful lot of time being hurled into things, slapped about, grunting in pain, being asphyxiated, and either struggling to force assailants off her, or being graphically murdered by them. There was one particularly rough bit where one of the previously mentioned spider monsters strangled her with tentacles, then rammed a bigger tentacle down her neck to pump her full of parasites. Watching back through my capture footage for screenshots, I could hear myself mutter “not cool, man” into my headset. And it doesn’t happen to Carlos.

A fit woman who some may consider sexy is... found to be sexy. Surprising.

Again Nemesis is trying to beat you up because you have a HP bar and instant-kill attacks would lead to complaints, zombies gather on everyone, Leon, Claire, Jill and Carlos. Also, bio-weapon monsters out to kill everything kill everything.

What a surprise.

I would like to note that the segments where you get to play Carlos do not have any spiders so it’s kind of hard for said spiders to ram themselves down his throat and put eggs in him. Can’t exactly do that when they don’t exist. Also, for the record, if you consider the facehugger-impregnates-person moment to be sexual, that’s really on you.

I wasn’t even kidding on Nemesis having sleazy dom energy, by the way. Jill’s ex-supercop colleague Brad mentions Nemesis having a “hard-on” for her, and when Carlos is introduced – while saving Jill from a mangling at the hands of ol’ bagfists himself – he quips that Nemesis “knows what it wants, and won’t stop till it gets it – don’t you like that in a man?” “No thanks,” replies Jill, “he’s all yours”.

Except that it’s not completely true. Brad specifically says that Nemesis has a “hard-on for the only two S.T.A.R.S. left in town: you and me”. This, coupled with the context, changes things quite a bit. Nemesis does not have a “hard-on” for Jill, it has an obsession for S.T.A.R.S., which is why it keeps going, you know, “S.T.A.R.S.” and not “JILL”.

Also Carlos has been saving people and seems to want to keep himself seeming more warm and casual. You understand this as you play the game and get to know him better, he’s not really that big on protocol and he’s more than willing to joke around and be playful, presumably because this is an epidemic, a crisis and one of the easier ways of breaking tension is to use humour, however lacking in success that may be.

I actually liked the interactions between Carlos and Jill, and they worked well to dispel some of the general miasma of yikes mentioned above. Carlos (who is also sexy, though I can’t work out whether that’s because of or despite his ridiculous hair) is a prick. He wants to play the white knight, and Jill’s just not having any of it. Her dialogue never really strays into cringey Strong Female Protagonist territory while fending it off – she’s just a total professional, who’s too busy trying to deal with her situation to pay any heed to that sort of guff. She never feels like half the victim her death animations make her seem.

Except there’s no “miasma of yikes”, it’s the reviewer looking at this with a social justice lens instead of his actual eyes and using his head, thinking of the context and such like he should.  I don’t agree that Carlos is a prick, though I do agree that he does look really fine, because he doesn’t present himself as such. He’s a capable guy who wants to help and has a more easy going personality. He does not force himself on her at any time.

He “plays white knight” in the sense that he’s a damned professional in a crisis trying to help civilians, who, surprise surprise, aren’t as strong as Jill is. Also, he doesn’t even know who she is when they first meet. When she has “none of it”, he backs off, doesn’t try to calm her down as he would a civilian and acts appropriately. So again, this bit of the article seems to ignore any context and what really happens in the scenes in favour of viewing it in a very, very specific lens.

Also, I’d like to note that Jill probably looks and feels like a victim in her death scenes because she’s, you know, a victim. Of being killed.

Who’d have thunk. Next thing I know, we’ll have to remind game journalists that people die when they are killed.

The article later goes back to a more regular review, so there’s not really anything to be said about it.

In all honesty, the only “miasma of yikes” I found was the article itself with the parts I mentioned and put up here. Seriously, please, context matters.

Now, I know that I do this once in a while where I post up an article that I want to talk about because I find it ridiculously flawed and lacking in context. But I really hope that whoever reads this, for whatever reason, to remember that often times you should really check something out for yourself, preferably the source, when you read articles. Check out more sites, independent reviewers, newscasters, whatever it is.

Despite what some jackasses have stated, context really matters and without it you can spin a story that feels rather different than what is originally presented.

[madschester]

Who We Use to Be Chapter 2

Entering the police station Haven was greeted by many police officers. Haven been to the station many times before so everyone has grown use to her showing up. "Ok Gil I'm here." Haven walked in and right up to Gil grabbing the coffee off the desk. "I needed this. I've been up since 3 a.m." Gil gave Haven a worried look and whispered to her. "Again? Have you gone to see your doctor for stronger medication?" Haven just shook het head; "I haven't had time. Also she's out of town. Vacation for another 2 weeks. So I'll have to deal with no sleep. Hey Dani, JT how's it going?" Dani looked up from the files and smiled at Haven. "Going good Dart, but from the looks of the dark circles under your eyes I can tell it hasn't for you."

Haven just rolled her eyes. "Like I told Gil I'm ok..just been having nightmares of that night." When Malcolm heard that sentence he thought of the night Dr. Martin Whitly was taken, but that isn't what Dani and Haven are talking about. A few months after Haven graduate from Culinary School she was kidnapped while walking home from her new bakery at the time. Haven was beaten and sexual assaulted to the point where if you didn't know her you wouldn't be able to tell it was her. She was missing for a week before the police...before Gil could find her. Haven had a broken collar bone and her ankle was badly sprained. She had bruising all over her body.

Haven felt Malcolm's eyes on her so she moved to stand by Gil again. She could feel the tension between herself and Malcolm. "Ok Gil what you got so far on the case?" Haven asked taking another sip of her warm coffee. "He's following the quartet killings of Dr. Whitly. From the looks of the other 2 he's trying to find the most painful dose. He's got one more to finish the quartet." Haven watched Malcolm as he answered the question that was for Gil. "Since they all have bruising on their wrist from bandage they all must have payed someone and that could be our killer."

Gil looked at Dani gave her a nod, she gave one back and left the room to look at the victims bank records. "Anything else Malcolm?" Malcolm answered back with "We don't have that much longer till he strikes again." Without looking away from Haven. "Haven anything you think could help with the case?" "Well, yes he might be copying The Surgeon he most likely has a different motive. He could be a middle age man with some type of insecurities. We don't know if the dom they were all seeing is the one that killed them. That would be to easy, but I'm simply just a baker so I could be wrong."

"Knowing you Haven you could be right. We'll have to go and find out ourselves." Haven looked over at Malcolm and gave him a simple nod of the head.  She didn't know what Malcolm was trying to do. Was he trying to say sorry in own weird way. "Just talk to him Haven. You should hear what he has to say." Gil whispered to Haven. "Bright, I got to talk to you." Malcolm face lit up as he followed Haven out of the room.

Haven was leading the way and heading to the roof of the building. She broke her promise to herself, but Gil is right. It's been 10 years. "So, Gil told me your got fired from the FBI; why not take a break?" Malcolm walked uo beside you with his hands in his pockets. "Helps keep me somewhat sane, believe it or not. Listen Haven, how things were left wasn't the best and I'm sorry. I had no right to say what I did." Haven was fighting back tears. Malcolm was her best friend. "Yeah what you said was pretty shit, but it's been 10 years; and we're both acting like children whem we are both far from that. We had time to think and focus on ourselves." Haven put her hand out with a smile. "Truce?" Malcolm smiled back and took her hand; "Yeah, truce." Malcolm's smile soon went away and he sighed. "What is it?" Haven gave him a confused look. "Do you think Dr. Whitly had something to do with this? It cant be a coincidence but the copycat is copying him." Haven put a hand on Malcolm's shoulder. "I dont think he has that kind of connection. With him being in a box. We should go back. They probably are wondering what's taking so long." Malcolm just nodded his head and thought 'Haven's right. He couldn't.'

"Good your back, Dani go ahead." Gil gestured towards Dani. "Well it seems all the victims payed and were seeing Nico. Could be the copycat." Gil nods his head, "Alright JT, Dani and Malcolm go to the apartment. Haven and I will go get the warrant we need to search the place. Let's get moving." Malcolm smiled at Haven and she smiled back. "Gil why am I going with you? I wasn't hired by the NYPD, you could get in trouble for bring me along." Haven told Gil, worried being heard in her voice. "Haven it's alright, let me worry about that. So you and Malcolm make up?" "Yeah, we both agreed that we were acting like children and that needed to stop." Gil just gave her a simple nod.

Malcolm POV~

"NYPD! Nico are you in there?" JT banged against the door. We waited a few seconds before looking around at each other. "Gil told us to wait till he got the warrant." Dani said. I pulled my phone out and dailed Nico's number. We could hear the phone ringing inside, then silence. "Well, he's home." "Ok Bright, stay behind us." Dani told me while JT kicked the door open yelling, "NYPD!" I walk in behind them and walk into the kitchen while JT and Dani look around. "He's building them...my profile was wrong." "Dani over here." I heard Dani walking over to JT and I turned around. We see a man in his underwear tied up in a chair. "Hey, it's ok we're NYPD. We're here to help. Did Nico do this?" "I'm Nico! Get me out of here, I've been trapped for days!" "Is he still here?" Nico nodded his head and then we all heard a gun shot.

"Get down! I'll go after him JT, Bright get him out of here!" Dain said as she ran after the copycat. I looked over at Nico and laid down on the grown to try and get him untied. "He's locked in, give me a few I can get him unlocked." "Umm, we don't have time for that JT. He has a bomb connected to him." Nico started to freak out even more. "You didn't have to say that!" "Well he was going to find out in 60 seconds." I stood up and walked over to a table. Laying on that table was a Hatchet. "JT, grab a cool and ice...lots of ice." I walked over to Nico. "What are you going to do with that?" "I'm going to chop off you hand!" "No! No! Don't!" JT comes running back over with ice and a cool. "Yo, Bright dont!"

3rd Person~

"Who was that?" Haven asked as soon as Gil got off the phone. "That was Dani. The copycat wasn't Nico, you were right. But he was holding him hostage." Gil soon stopped the car and opened his door and was meet by Dani. "I lost him!" "Where's Malcolm and JT?" Haven got out of the car and walked up to Dani and Gil. "They're still in the buil-." Before Dani could finish her sentence the Nico's apartment exploded. "Malcolm!" Haven yelled and started to ran towards the building. Tears forming in her eyes. Gil stopped her before she could get to close, and seconds later JT and Malcolm come out holding a half naked man. Haven got out of Gil's arms and ran to Malcolm. "Oh my god! Are you ok?!" "Yeah, I just need to give them a hand." With that Haven watched as Malcolm walked away following where JT lead Nico to give them a literal hand.

"Are you sure you're ok Malcolm? I can take you home?" Haven ask while her, Gil and Malcolm walked into Gil's office. "I'm fine Haven really." As Haven was going to reply back Gil set some rolled uo papers in front of them both. "What are these?" "These are what JT grabbed before the place exploded. Do they looks familiar to you guys?" Gil asked why handing them to Malcolm. "They're Dr. Whitly's. How did the killer get their hands on this? You don't think he had something to do with this right?" "I don't know Malcolm. That man has be behind bars for 20 years." Haven took the papers out of Malcolm's hands and looked at them. "You aren't planning what I think you're planning right?" "Maybe Haven. I mean it's the only way to get answers." Gil shook his head. "No, not happening. You are not going to see him Malcolm. I can't let you." "What of I didn't go alone. What if Haben went with me? I have to know if he had anything to do with this." Haven looked between the two men. "Why am I always volunteered without my consent. I have a bakery I need to run." Malcolm turned to face Haven with the look on his face. "Don't you dare give me that look Malcolm Bright. I will not fall for that look again. I have grown in the last 10 yea- ok fine I'll go." Malcolm smiled at Haven and went back to talking to Gil. Haven backed up and whispered to herself, "Why do I always get involed in things a baker shouldn't."

[the-golden-ghost]

Dracula: A Comprehensive Summary

(part 4. Now you all understand why this took 4 hours)

Chapter 19:

The Squad Discusses Renfield. Quincy’s like “okay dude either he’s an INCREDIBLY good actor, or you’ve got a sane man locked up in there”

Seward:  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

They all break into Dracula’s house and mess with his pet doggos cause whatever. He’s not there anymore

Mina sleeps late the next morning uh oh

Van Helsing decides to talk to Renfield again and Renfield tells him to go fuck himself

Mina has been having trouble sleeping, and hears the barking of dogs in her dreams. Does this sound familiar? We’re in for it NOW

Chapter 20:

Dracula moved houses and now lives in a beer dispensary cause you know why not

Renfield is starting to lose it again. He is now terrified and haunted by the souls of the living

Seward thinks he’s gonna become a cannibal, and start eating people hence the ‘soul’ thing

He keeps insisting that he only eats living things for their life, and does not want the burdens of their souls. Seward realizes that Dracula got to him somehow and is now trying to turn him into some sort of living vampire OH shit

They go away for a bit to plan more Dracula Slayin’ until Seward gets a message from the asylum that Renfield got in an accident

He is dying

Chapter 21:

So it turns out Renfield somehow ripped the skin off his face, caved his head in and snapped his own neck

How is this possible, you ask? IT’S NOT.

Someone DID that to him. And the culprit?

Yeah it’s Drac lmao

Renfield basically says that Dracula has been sending him flies and moths and shit to eat and Renfield was loyal to him because he wanted some of that power

But then Drac started trying to hurt Mina

And since Everybody Loves Mina, including Renfield, Renfield decided to just straight-up Fite Dracula with his bare hands and he lost miserably and got fatally injured

He presumably dies from his injuries but we don’t get to know cause the Squad leaves immediately after that and so we never find out the ultimate fate of Renfield  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

They hurry to Mina’s house and find some Freaky Shit going on.

Drac has her, is drinking her blood and is also making her drink HIS blood by holding her mouth to his chest which is like

Yuck

Drac bails when everyone comes in, and Mina is now Officially Cursed :(

So it’s only a matter of time before she ends up like Lucy...

Chapter 22:

The Drac Attack has caused Jon to lose it and Mina to think she’s cursed forever

Van Helsing’s like “nah you’re fine” and they go to a church to bless the devil out of her

Except all it does is burn a scar onto her forehead which makes everything worse honestly

Chapter 23:

Except PLOT TWIST now that Mina’s linked to Dracula she knows his every move. Suck on THAT, Drac!

So now even though she’s rapidly becoming a demon, they have a Spy on their side!

They keep breaking into Dracula’s hidey-holes to destroy his fake coffins but it doesn’t do anything really

They actually catch him one (1) time and try to kill him but he’s like “nah” and escapes

And leaves the country. Everyone is briefly like “oh cool problem solved” but Van Helsing is like “um no actually cause he still has Mina’s soul and if she dies even of old age without being freed she’ll still become a vampire” :(

Chapter 24:

ROAD TRIP TO TRANSYLVANIA

Eventually. Mostly they just Discuss it in this chapter

At first it’s just gonna be The Boys and they’re gonna leave Mina in safety and Jon to “protect” her (really it’s cause Jon is not well enough to go) but then Mina is like “no you need a spy so I’m coming too” and Jon, being the coolest and best husband ever, is like “I’ll go because my wife needs me :) “

Even though tbh she doesn’t but they love each other a lot

Ride-or-Die couple these two

Chapter 25:

Before they go a’Slayin’ Mina calls a meeting

And is like “hey listen if this ends up with me damned to hell for eternity to save you guys, I’m gonna fucking do it cause you’re my bros and I love you”

And then says “but get this: if there comes a point when I’m too far gone and there’s nothing left of me but a demonic shell, PLEASE fucking kill me.”

And they all agree to do it :(

Even though nothing could be worse for anyone than killing Mina. Since everyone loves her

And then, since it’s likely she’s not going to come out of this alive, Mina makes Jon read her burial service. :( But he doesn’t get all the way through because he’s too sad

Anyway FEELS OVER TIME TO SLAY A VAMPIRE

TRANSYLVANIA HERE WE COME

THIS ONE’S FOR LUCY and Renfield

Anyway it takes forever cause the train is delayed but that’s Eastern European rail service for you  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Chapter 26:

They travel slow. Mina is spying all the way via hypnosis and mental link with Drac.

Quincy is like “LET’S KILL DRAC WITH A GUN” like an American

Everyone preps Battle Stations and Van Helsing decides to stay with Mina cause “he’s old and can’t fight” which is coward talk but heck

Literally the last few chapters are mainly planning and traveling I’m sorry but it gets dull right before The End

Chapter 27:

The End

Mina hates garlic now lol (the locals keep putting it in their food)

The Boys (including Jon) go to Vampire Slay and Van Helsing stays behind with Mina, putting her in a Holy Circle so she can’t get out lest she go Full Vampire, and also so that Drac can’t get in and take her or something.

While they’re hiding out, Drac’s wives come and try to lure Mina to them. It doesn’t work. But Van Helsing is also unable to link her to Drac via hypnosis now :(

Everyone writes their goodbye letters to each other :(

Van Helsing actually discovers Dracula’s Final Coffin and fucks it up so Drac can’t get in and rejuvinate. Rock on

The Boys meanwhile find Drac riding along to his castle on a cart and break into the box he’s traveling in and all four of them Do A Stab on him. Which actually kills him! Who knew!

They didn’t even use garlic or anything just knives. It was really That Easy

Quincy got fatally wounded in the fight though, but as he’s dying he points up at Mina’s forehead, where the scar left by the blessing is gone, and she is free.

NICE EPILOGUE: Everyone is happy, Mina and Jon have a baby named Quincy, Seward and Arthur got married (Bram Stoker said Gay Rights) and Van Helsing is like... the Team Dad idk

And it ends the way it begins: with Everybody Loving Mina.

No literally the last sentence of the book is about how much everyone loves Mina lmao

And that’s a wrap on Dracula! Now you never have to read it, because boy oh boy is it ever a trip

[talesoflittlemercy]

#6 - Cellar Songs

Previous Story  ||  First Story

i.

The homeowner takes me down into the cellar, and I brace myself for the worst. From the way he’d described it over the phone, the place has been overrun. I remember the way his voice shook when he called me. I wouldn’t normally come out so far from the city, but he’d sounded so panicked.

“Rats,” he’d said. “I’ve got hundreds of them.”

He stands against the stairway wall, and he pushes the cellar door open with one hand, keeping his distance. I look at him, and he jerks his head towards the doorway. I step past him and through.

The cellar is cool, and dimly lit even with the bare bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling. Even in the gloom, though, I can tell that the cellar is unoccupied. I squint around the boxes stacked against the walls, looking for spaces where a rat could hide, or where the cardboard might be chewed through, but I see nothing. No sign, no smell. I crouch down by the wall, looking for holes.

“You said they live down here?” I ask.

“Are you deaf?” His tone is sharp. I look over my shoulder, and he’s looking at me like I’m insane. “Can you not hear them?”

We fall silent for a second. His eyes drift up to the ceiling, and dart to the wall. The air hangs empty.

“I can’t hear anything,” I say.

He shakes his head. “You’ve got to come back later. Then you’ll see them. I can hear them crawling around every time I go to bed.”

I cast a look around the cellar again. “I’m not trying to be funny, but I don’t see anything that would suggest-”

“Just come back tonight. Trust me,” he says, and his face is grave. “Please.”

ii.

I return to the house in the late evening. He greets me at the door.

“Thank you,” he says, as he closes the door behind me, “Thank you so much for coming, I know it’s late-”

“It’s no bother. I’m staying overnight anyway, so I might as well.”

“Good idea, that. Wouldn’t want to be driving down those country roads at night, I’ll tell you.” He takes a deep breath. I consider asking him what he means. “Come on,” he continues before I can ask, “Back down here. I expect you can hear them already.”

I hesitate. “I can’t hear anything.”

He looks at me strangely. “You should get your ears checked. Can’t you hear that scratching?” I shake my head, and he sighs. “Well, you’ll hear it in a minute. It’s deafening down there. When it gets dark like this it’s really quite frightening.”

The homeowner takes me downstairs again, but only as far as the door. I’m skeptical, but I approach it with caution. I open it a tiny bit, just enough to peer around the corner, but not enough to let a rat out. I look inside, waiting for movement in the dark.

“How many are there?” he breathes.

I shake my head. “None that I can see.”

“That’s not possible. That’s not possible.” I turn, and he’s shaking his head. “I can hear them right now. Every night for a week, I’ve been kept awake! You can’t tell me there’s nothing.”

I close the door behind me, and exhale slowly. “Listen, pal, I can’t catch what I can’t see.” “You’re supposed to be the expert!” he says, glaring at me. His voice has gotten louder, bouncing off the wood of the stairwell, and I start to walk away from him. He’s hearing things. He must be. “You can’t just leave them here!” 

“I think I should go,” I say, already half up the stairs.

“Fine. Fine! I’ll call someone else!” he shouts after me. I don’t look back at him.

I let myself out, and breathe a sigh of relief into the empty night.

iii.

I stay the night in the village, but I don’t sleep much - I keep thinking about the rats, the thought of hundreds of them lurking in the shadows, the look on that man’s face when I told him I didn’t hear it. When morning comes, I’m glad to leave.

The lady running the bed and breakfast asks me if the job went well, and when I tell her what happened, she’s surprised. She tells me the homeowner is a friend of hers, and that she’s always known him to be very sane. When she asks me if I’d go back one last time before I leave, even just to make him feel more at ease, I feel duty-bound to agree.

He glares at me when he answers the door. “What are you after?”

“I wanted to apologise,” I say. He looks at me expectantly, and I sigh. “I shouldn’t have just ignored what you were saying. I still don’t think I saw any hard evidence, but I’ll take a proper look around and see, if it helps?”

His face softens a bit, and I can see the exhaustion in his face. “Aye. Please.”

We make for the stairs again, but I stop in the middle of the hallway. He turns and looks at me, but I hold up a finger before he can say anything. I frown.

“I think I just heard something,” I say.

His eyes widen. “Really?”

I nod, and try to listen closer. Then I hear it again: a scratching, squeaking sound, right at the edge of my hearing. It sounds like it’s coming from the right, but then I hear it again: louder, this time, and from the left. My eyes dart down to follow a squeak that sounds like it’s coming from the basement.

“That’s definitely something,” I say, slowly. How am I only just hearing this today? “Listen, I- I need to pick up some things so that I can stay here for a few more days, and maybe call someone to help me out with this if it’s as bad as you say, but I think if I come back tonight we can get them out. Or at least make a start.”

He looks elated. “Really?”

“Aye. You might want to stay somewhere else tonight though. We need to deal with this soon.”

iv.

I come back at night. And I can hear them. I can really hear them.

He’s brought me back into the cellar and I get it now, it’s everywhere. I don’t know how he’s been living like this. I don’t know how I didn’t hear it before. Every tap of their feet is like gunfire and there has to be tens of them. Hundreds, even, and all of them scratching, squeaking, crawling around. It’s coming from the walls, it’s coming from the room above, it’s coming from underneath the floor. It sounds like they’re right there inside my head, scratching claws against the inside of my skull. 

I can’t take it in here. I’m reeling, and the more I think about it, the more it scares me, and the more it scares me, the louder I hear it. I don’t want to stay and face it, but that poor man, I can’t let him live with that noise, with that vermin. There’s rats in the air and my blood and the bricks in the walls. 

I’ve never heard anything like it. Not in the years I’ve been doing this, never.  I can’t stand the noise. I can’t stand

v.

We’re taking the bricks out today. 

I got all the tools and the traps left in the van, and some from his shed, and we’ve set them all up. We’ll take the walls down if we need to, whatever it takes to find them, and stop them. I couldn’t sleep last night for hearing them - they must have followed me to the bed and breakfast. But we’ll stop them. We’ll wipe them out.

They must be in here somewhere.