#why am i becoming a stephen king guy how did this happen help me

[derrypubliclibrary]

when the fuck were you guys gonna tell me 11/22/63 had an adaptation

[sebbybooks]

Never Mine

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

Part One

"With my dog as my witness, to whoever was riding my ass if they didn't back off my bumper I was going to stop in the middle of the road and rip their windshield wipers completely off!"

That type of anger coiled around me like a snake, because there was nothing that bugged me more than someone driving bumper to bumper. The long and exasperated breath I just released helped ease the tension out of my body temporarily. Just in time for reason to settle in. Though in reality it wasn't like I was actually going to jump out of my car and confront this road demon. Who clearly needed to take a course on etiquettes of the road. What I did know was that whoever was behind the wheel of the car had headlights that were so blinding I am sure extraterrestrials in space could spot them.

Trying to find the calm in the situation I focused on the road ahead of me. What little road I could see for that matter. Which wasn't exactly much. I had checked the forecast earlier in the day with the report of it showing that there was to be only clear and blue skies. By the amount of downpour before me you would think there was a tear in the sky if that was how rain fell. I just needed to hang tight for a few more miles until I reached my exit to stop for the night.

I had been driving for nine consecutive hours and it wasn't until the third hour I realized I was not cut out for long distance driving. The plane ticket I turned down from my father was starting to look like a missed opportunity. I opted out for Cooper's sake. I just rescued the little guy a few short weeks ago and I didn't have the heart to leave him alone so soon.

Despite having only six more hours of this painful drive I needed out of my car. A hot shower and a bed was calling my name like a siren's call was to a dazed sailor at sea. I was fervidly drawn to it. Granted, I wasn't exactly going the speed limit in my own defense. Simply because I chose to be a cautious driver not a careless one unlike the dip shit behind me. Cooper and I were going to get to Sonoma, California in one piece if I had anything to do with it! I had no intention to speed in the rain even if it annoyed the person behind me. After all I was driving down a one lane road there was literally nothing else I could do but drive forward.

Taking a glance up at my trusty Garmin my gps projected that at this rate I wouldn't make it to my hotel for another hour and a half. Ahead of me the sky was starting to look like a terrifying shade of gray and to top it off the dismal weather was becoming more and more hard to drive in. I could barely see the paint on the pavement. My defrosters seemed to have given up on me as I began to notice that my rearview mirror fogged up as though it was twilight hour.

I needed to pull over to try to wait out the heavy rainfall. The only problem was that I did not know where I was nor could I see where the road even had an end. The cheap gas station coffee was starting to wear off and the pep talks could no longer motivate me. The words of encouragement quickly transitioned into self deprecating quips of "I can not fucking do this!"

I was too far from home to turn back now and hearing a lecture from my dad despite being well beyond the ages of even receiving one, certainly would not stop him from scolding at my absence. I am more than certain that fiancée number three would not mind if I missed their prenuptial celebration. Especially if arriving on time meant I would be showing up dismembered. It was official I was going to die in this storm.

All of sudden like I called upon a bad omen my tiny Kia Forte jerked forward. I thought I accidentally stomped on the gas pedal too hard without realizing it. When it happened again I knew exactly what it was. Clearly the driver had mistaken this for a game of bumper cars. I laid the palm of my hand on the center of my steering wheel and relentlessly pressed my horn. Not sure what that was going to necessarily ward off , but I had to try something in the efforts that they would leave me alone.

Cooper's head shot up from his bed in the backseat. He looked just as displeased and annoyed as I felt. Why wouldn't they slow down? Is the question I could not figure out. I don't know if it was all the Stephen King that I read, but my paranoia was increasing as I started to settle on the possibility that they were now following me.

Maybe I was tired?

Maybe my imagination truly was getting the best of me?

Or maybe whoever that person was also suddenly decided to take the same random exit as I was taking.

I didn't think. I veered my car off to the right and got on the first breakaway from this seemingly endless road. I had no idea where I was headed at this point and neither did my Garmin. It made multiple attempts to reroute itself, but even that could not locate where I was. I took an unexpected detour by driving off into the middle of nowhere with a now stalker in my midsts.

Adrenaline now filling up my bloodstream. I gave my steering wheel the death grip and drove as fast as the tire tracks of my car would guide me. On a midsize billboard to my left I saw a logo for a gas station and a non franchised bed & breakfast saying it was right up the road. I was taking a chance by trusting that the establishment was clean and safe. I just needed to go where a crowd of people would be. The battery on my phone was likely dead and yes this was now becoming the opening sequence for a King novel. I'd laugh if my heart wasn't fluttering as fast a hummingbird's wing.

I managed to make out lights ahead as I neared the petrol station first. However, it just about looked abandoned. The dim white lights flickered around the desolate parking lot. I saw only two freight trucks parked side by side and I immediately thought

. . .hell no.

I kept driving forward in the hopes that the bed and breakfast sign wasn't last updated in the early nineties. I nearly combusted from relief when I finally saw it. Several cars and mini vans lined up with people inside of them probably doing the same thing that I was. I didn't plan on staying the night I just planned on staying long enough to hide out from the rain and from the trouble that still followed my trails.

Luckily there were free parking spaces close to the entrance. It was still hard to make out what the place truly looked like. From my view in the car the rain made it look like it was a melting oil painting. In a swift motion I put my car in park, turned my ignition off, reached in the back to grab Cooper and grabbed ahold of my purse in the other arm. I bolted out of my car for the door.

It felt as though I was running through a hurricane. I was completely drenched. I could barely keep my eyes from closing as I ran up the slippery steps in my worn Toms praying that I wouldn't eat concrete. There was an awning over the door that offered relief from the storm's cruel embrace . Looking down at the fuzzy brown welcome mat I noticed a quote was scribbled out on it.

"some beautiful paths

can't be discovered without getting lost."

As I reached for the doorknob I couldn't help but notice the intricate design. I'm aware of how wrong the timing was to fawn over something so utterly mundane. I just could not conceal the fact that I was a sucker for antiques roadshow and architectural designing. Growing up with a dad that built and reconstructed vintage furniture one might pick up on the interest. It was a white privacy doorknob with hand painted roses, with a Victorian long plated silver keyhole. The sound of distant car door slamming snapped me out of my daze. I turned my head in the direction of the sound low and behold it was that same car. Crazy thing is I didn't see anyone by it.

Instinct guided me forward considering my brain was scrambling with worry. I ushered myself inside and it was as though I fell into a pink wonderland. From the pink carpet to the multicolored pink pinstripe wallpaper. Hot pink roses seemed to have been the main theme for the lobby. There were various black and silver picture frames with photos of pink roses hanging on every wall. On every surface my eyes could catch, red and pink plastic roses sat in circular olive green vases. It was certainly....something. I thought I was doing the most logical thing by coming inside, but it quickly dawned on me that I saw no one around.

"Hello?" I cautiously called out.

I paced myself as I walked up to the front desk, simultaneously looking around for any potential red flags. My right arm was going numb, my little guy was tiny but felt like I was lugging around a sack of potatoes. I wandered away from the desk to poke my head around the place. There was a entry way that led to a dinning area with a handful of seats adorned with of course pink table settings. I was standing next to a spiral staircase to what I assumed led to the rooms. There was only one door that held a sign for a bathroom. Perhaps there was a power outlet I could use long enough to charge my phone to call my dad.

The same door I walked in swung open and droplets of rain was blown in by the wind. A shiver rolled down my spine, sending a myriad of sparks that shot through my body. Turning around a strange sensation filled the pits of my stomach. It felt like butterflies and moths had taken up space there. Excitement and fear. I just stood completely mute like I had never seen a man before. Well to my defense I hadn't seen ones that look like him in my town. Without even seeing my reflection I had an inkling as to the state of my appearance. I was utterly perplexed by how he pulled off the kissed by an ocean look. To embarrass myself further of course my dog chose that moment to shake water off of his fur on to me.

"Really Coop?" I tried to hide my disgust, but he got it around the corner of my mouth! The good looking stranger offered a half smile that probably pitied my overall state.

"Is the black Kia parked out yours?" Even his voiced oozed sex appeal. He angled his frame so he could face me. There was about an arm length of distance between us. His eyes practically bore into my face I suppose waiting for me to say something. Must have been the buzzcut, the facial scuff, or the fact that some creep was still parked outside waiting to do who knows what. But my thoughts were not where they should have been.

I blinked and straightened up my posture. "Yeah why?" I finally answered.

It was a causal question, yet it felt completely random like there was something else to it.Neither of us spoke for a few seconds.The silence was so thick it would take a hacksaw to cut through.

"Well I'll be damned! I didn't think I would get to see you until after you got back from your trip in California." A woman most likely in her late sixties came rushing down the stairs for him. She draped her arms around his body clearly taking him by surprise. Her cotton candy colored pink bouffant made up for most of her height. Sebastian returned her embrace. Although it looked extremely awkward considering he stared at me the whole time and I stood there watching.

"Moe's old truck didn't give you too much trouble did it?" She asked.

"No it still got some life left in it." Sebastian's jaw went slack and he looked from her to me once more. Only this time he was looking at me with a cold glare. Realization suddenly crashed into me like a wild horse.

[ot3-watch]

Episode 1: The Nigerian Job Rewatch

Nate is so far beyond done at this point it’s hilarious. “I want to hire you” “FUCK OFF MAN I’M BUSY DRINKING MYSELF TO AN EARLY GRAVE”

“I need you to steal them back…” WTF DID YOU THINK WAS GOING TO HAPPEN VICTOR? WHAT, DID YOU THINK THE BEST INSURANCE INVESTIGATOR WASN’T GOING TO FIGURE OUT YOU WERE GOING TO DOUBLE CROSS HIM? He’s so stupid I can’t. 

“Parker is insane.” No. She just has a little trouble. Don’t DO THIS to her Nate.

“They work alone,” not for looong.

And… there it is! IYS. The most overused villains and this coming from a doctor who fan who sat through the daleks coming back EVERY SINGLE SEASON after being destroyed

Why do they all sound so weird? Like the dialogue does NOT sound normal

How tf did Eliot win in that scene tho? We see how long it takes him to fight later on like I just do not get it. ANd the tea isn’t even scathed? How? Everyone talks about The Big Bang Job’s shootout scene as being super unrealistic, but honestly, it barely registers compared to this one.

“You’re precisely why I work alone.” Yeah, because you’re at risk of falling in love otherwise Mr. Heart Eyes.

I’m remembering how much I did NOT like Parker in the beginning and I don’t like that. I love Parker but early Parker was eh.

PARKER YOU CAN’T JUST THROW THE GLASS. THAT’S EVIDENCE PARKER. YOU COULD KILL SOMEONE PARKER. SOMEONE’S GOING TO KNOW PARKER. 

You expect me to believe that Parker is a world class thief who wouldn’t think to count the haircuts? They keep making everyone else look dumber to make Nate look smarter which makes NO SENSE because honestly, it makes it hard to believe that the other three survived on their own without Nate to guide them. WHICH THEY DID! AND THEY WERE THE BEST IN THE WORLD AT WHAT THEY DID. WTF

“That’s what I do.” AKA THE MOMENT ALEC HARDISON BECOMES AN ELIOT STAN

JENNY 8675309????

 “I know you children don’t play well with others” He’s already a dad i can’t.

If they knew about this plan and had the materials to pull it off, why did no one think of it? 

ALSO HOW TF DO THEY GET THE MAKE UP ON SO QUICKLY IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE

How did the burn scam even work? Like i get it, make him uncomfortable so he won’t ask questions but like… they thought no one was in the building? The elevators were shut down? Why did he not question it? How stupid????

The black king/white knight metaphor was honestly the worst part of the first episode like it bothers me so much and I cannot effectively come close to explaining why

Where does Nate live? Why is his place so fancy? HE’S UNEMPLOYED RIGHT NOW AND BANKRUPTED HIMSELF TRYING TO HELP SAM. “It’s a hotel,” my sister says. IN WHAT WORLD DOES THAT LOOK LIKE A HOTEL ROOM? ANd that doesn’t explain how he affords a hotel room that nice.

….Why didn’t Eliot just disarm Hardison? We know he can. I don’t get it.

If you knew the place was gonna blow, why didn’t you run Nate? WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS NATE

Eliot’s already putting himself in danger to help Hardison up. YOUR HONOR THEY’RE IN LOVE. THEY’VE KNOWN EACH OTHER LESS THAN 24 HOURS AND THEY’RE IN LOVE.

“Do you trust me?” NO. NO NATE. NO I FUCKING DON’T.

I feel like passing that phone through the grate should not have worked.

YEAH HARDISON. MUG IT FOR THE CAMERA

Eliot’s accent I LOVE HIM “Can you hold, son?” FOREVER FOR YOU.

How are the state police so fucking stupid i can’t

They literally… they just dumb everyone down to make Nate look smarter and it SUCKS

Ah, the first Hardison safe house. 

“You won’t get within 100 yards” HE’S ELIOT FUCKING SPENCER I BET YOU ANYTHING HE CAN

“He didn’t pay us… I take that personally.” I-- Parker if you’re dead you can’t make more money. Parker? It’s important to me that you know this, Parker.

The websites they’re looking at are so obviously fake. 

Nate? Nate it’s just a picture. DUbenich can’t hear you, Nate.

“He used my son” I cannot explain how much overexposure has made me NOT CARE ABOUT FUCKING SAM

“What the hecks a Sophie” That, Eliot. That’s a Sophie. 

Honestly? My favorite character introduction in this episode. 

WHY DO THEY ALL TALK SO WEIRD IN THIS EPISODE? THEIR VOICES ARE SO OFF WHAT THE FUCK?

“I’m a citizen now. Honest.” YEAH FUCKING RIGHT IN WHAT WORLD

Eliot with the snacks, he’s always bringing food to his fam it’s amazing

“That’s an odd thing for you to know” “That’s an odd place for you to be” ...why am i reading a sexy sort of tension in there???

And Nate’s SMILING at it

Ok but how does Nate know about plane schematics? 

Sophie’s accent… none of them are that accurate but this one felt especially weird

Eliot playing the IT tech is everything

Also the reference to the IT Crowd by Parker is *chef’s kiss*

HE’S SO CUTE THOUGH

I’m just a simp for Eliot Spencer okay?

“I know you’re manipulating me, Anna.” Yeah but you’re still gonna fall for it, aren’t you? You stupid, stupid man.

Eliot’s so sweet though. He’s just trying to make friends. 

Like really though, he’s so standoffish and stoic, but the second he has the chance, he tries to bond and he’s so gregarious. Like, it makes so much sense that he has so many friends all over he place. 

“Eliot, we’re not friends,” STOP BEING AN ASSHOLE NATE. I HATE YOU NATE. HE’S JUST TRYING TO BE YOUR FRIEND NATE. 

Hardison gliding by in the wheelie chair… he’s such a goof and a mood and i love him.

...Hardison… Hardison you can hack anything… Hardison why didn’t you put them in the building directory? IT’S A DIGITAL DIRECTORY YOU COULD HAVE DONE IT THIS WAS SO UNNECESSARY

Nate, EVERYONE CAN SEE YOU!! hoW DOES HE NOT GET ARRESTED???

THERE”S A COP CAR RIGHT THERE HOW THE FUCK DID THAT WORK

...is there anyone Sophie doesn’t have sexual chemistry with in this episode? Like, seriously, i think it’s just Hardison. She and Nate are obvious, and she and Eliot have that moment, and then… did they not put them in the directory just to have Parker and Sophie make heart eyes at each other for a few seconds?

HOW DID ANYONE WATCH THIS SHOW AND EVER THINK SOPHIE AND PARKER WERE STRAIGHT THO

Dubenich sounds like Wallace Shawn and looks like Stephen Moffat and I HATE HIM. Wallace Shawn is great, and i love him but DUBENICH CAN DIE

This looks like such a boring party why would anyone want to be there. THERE’S DAY DRINKING FOR GOODNESS SAKE EWWW WHY (okay maybe i just hate alcohol. I hate it more in professional settings.)

“Sir, I can take your underpants.” OKAY HIGGINS. WEIRD FLEX BUT OKAY.

Parker and Hardison look so smug walking out of the building i love it. 

...why don’t you want the money Nate? YOU COULD GET A LOT MORE MONEY NATE. TAKE THE GODDAMNED MONEY NATE

And today on “I Will Never Understand the Way the Stock Market Works…” Like i get the basic idea but like… how do you make money if it’s gonna fall that much? HOw.. how does this work?

NO THAT IS NOT AN INVITATION TO EXPLAIN ECONOMICS TO ME I DO NOT CARE ABOUT THE STOCK MARKET

“Somebody kiss this man so I don’t have to” you will. One day, Eliot, you will. 

So, fun fact. Supposedly, their score was $32,761,349.05 each. Which doesn’t really seem like a lot of money to me? Like, at least definitely not enough for Nate to do with it what he does? Like, maybe I just have a really difficult time fathoming that much money? Like, don’t get me wrong, I’d love just a taste of that but like, also? It really seems like not so much? … And further on “This blogger does not understand budgeting.”

ELIOT JUST ADMIT YOU WANT PART OF A TEAM

WHY DOES SOPHIE SOUND SO WEIRD??? WHAT THE FUCK

Okay, also, i have a question. These people, at the end, this is their first client, right? So why does it look like they haven’t seen each other since they took down Dubenich in the homecoming job? WHAT?

The SUITS THO

OKAY FINAL THOUGHTS: 6/10. Not the best Leverage episode, and certainly not the best character episode. There were a LOT of kinks to work out. Things got sorted too well. And I REALLY HATE NATE THIS EARLY ON. I’ve also never loved the “this guy is an asshole but he’s smarter than everyone else and really good at what he does so it’s fine” trope that you see in so many shows like Leverage. And they really really dumb people down early on to make him seem smarter. But like… there’s a reason I kept watching, you know? Also... I remember why it took me a while to warm up to Parker and Sophie. LIke, they’re badass but I still took a while and I remember why. 

[baffling-bisexual-quack]

Death Brings Us Closer

Hey!!! This is the first fic i’ve ever posted, so it’s kind of nerve-wracking. It’s a peter parker x reader fic, and i tried to be gender-neutral. Also it’s disregarding a ton of events in the movies... If anyone sees this, positive comments are encouraged :)

Warning: Swearing & near-death experience ( i don’t dive into that)

Summary: You’re recovering from a near-death experience with the avengers.

You jumped. It seemed uncalled for, but this was your personality. You were always bullied in college, but this was extreme. A group of kids, boys & girls alike had chased you up onto the roof of the Mettely dorms. The dusty ground was hard to get your fitting on, but they had pursued you up there with no problems. Now, they were backing into you. The main problem was that this roof had no barrier, so one wrong move and you would be flying down a 10-story drop. Might as well just kill yourself now. You gulped hard as you glanced behind you. The edge of the building was less than 2 feet away, and the people were still coming towards you. You needed a plan, and now.

“What, you afraid of heights?” The guy you assumed was the leader said. He had a smug look on his face.

The thing is, you were a spiteful person. If someone said you couldn’t do something, you went right ahead and did it, not caring whether you would get hurt or die. That was mainly the reason you’d reputation was so bad.

“You can’t survive that jump! Nobody can! So why don’t you just surrender now?” The rest of the people nodded & smirked, agreeing with the guy.

Like an idiot, you went “No one can survive it, huh? Then I’ll be the first!”

You jumped off the roof. Big mistake. The ground was cement under you. Nothing to break you fall. Your life flashed before your eyes. You didn’t think it would end at the age of 19. As your head hit the cement, you heard gasps had shouts from everyone around you. All you could feel was a throbbing pain in your lungs and your head. Well this is what death feels like, you thought. It was the last thing you thought before you blacked out, barely breathing. You didn’t hear a person trying to talk to you, you didn’t feel him pick you up, you didn’t see his car that he rushed you in to get you to the safest place he knew, where some of the best doctors were.

He didn’t know if you were alive anymore.

When you woke up, you could hear people discussing something about someone. Your head was throbbing and it felt like there was an elephant sitting on your stomach. You opens you eyes to see 5 different people who you had never met in your life standing over you. Wait, you may have seen two of them before, but right now, you believed everything and nothing.

“Hurgruphungf” you said trying to get up. You were quickly pushed back down by a boy.

“Where.... what... who...??” You mange to stutter out.

“Oh, you’re up. I can’t believe you’re alive. That was a pretty bad fall. What were you doing jumping off a 10-story building, anyway? Are you suicidal? That’s rough. Anyway, based on the diagnosis and some of the treatments...” You cut the boy off by covering his mouth with your hand, which had a metric ton of tubes taped to it.

“Who. The fuck. Are you.” You said, making it clear that there was no messing about with you.

“Ah, you probably don’t know me. We go to the same university, NYU? I’m in second year, and I think you’re in first? Do I have that right? Anyway, I’m Peter, and this is Bruce, Shuri, Dad, and Dr. Dad. Also known and Tony and Stephen.”

“Ah, yes, knowing there names. That makes me understand why I’m in a hospital bed and my head really hurts and I’m surrounded by a bunch of fucking geniuses!!!” You snapped back. It was just your nature in times like this that you got really sarcastic & snarky.

“Oh, I guess you wouldn’t remember. You jumped off the Mettely dorms roof? Possibly because you’re suicidal? I think? I mean you might not be, but, I-“ Peter was babbling, so you decided to help him by slapping your have over his mouth again.

“I’m not suicidal, those people were backing me into the edge of the roof and there was no barrier so I was going to fall. They’re these bullies and I’ve been their target since the first day I got to university but they never went so far as to almost push me off a building. Then one of them said I couldn’t jump off the side of the building so I had to prove them wrong, right? So I jumped off to show them I could survive and now I’m here.” You stopped to take a breath. By now everyone in the room was staring at you. Even the Bruce guy had stopped checking your vitals to stare at you. Peter gently removed your head from his face and asked,

“So you’re not suicidal?”

“Yeah.” You replied. You had decided that you liked him. For now. As long as he didn’t do anything idiotic or mean.  

“Good to know.” He said.

Then, the guy named Tony started taking about your injuries and what they needed to do. It bored you after about 30 seconds, and Peter noticed this and caught your eye, giving you a thumbs up. You gave him a small smile.

“Got it?” Tony concluded.

“Um, yeah, as long as there are no amputations and I can walk and stuff after.” You said, trying not to make it obvious you weren’t listening.

“No, no amputations. There will be surgery, though, and it will take about a year to recover.” The Stephen guy said. He looked like a wizard or something, with those clearly defined cheekbones.

“A fucking year??” You asked dubiously.

“Yes.” Stephen responded.

“Do you have a plan for keeping up with schoolwork?” Shuri asked.

“I don’t even have a ‘pla’” you respond. Peter gives a small laugh at your friends quote.

“Alright, we’re gonna have to put your under for this. Peter, out.” Bruce said, getting down to business.

“But I-“

“Out, Peter!”

“Hmph.”

—————————

After you had woken up, it was revealed that you had been asleep for a day and a half. Much longer than they had expected. But you were alive, and the surgery was a success. It left you feeling like shit.

Peter came to visit you with this really, really tall guy who didn’t look human. He was blonde with one blue and one brown-ish colour. He was wearing armour, which was weird because it didn’t seem like there was a fight going on. Also, he had a huge hammer. Were they planning to just kill you now?

“Hey, you’re up! I just wanted to check. This is my friend, Thor. Thor, this is... I actually don’t think I know your name! Weird. What is it?”

“It’s y/n.”

“Ah. Well, Thor, this is y/n.”

“Greetings, midgardian! I am Thor, god of thunder, king of Asgard.”

“Well, I’m y/n, the biggest idiot you’ll ever meet, who lives their life out of spite.”

Peter laughed a little at this. He seemed to like your sense of humour, which is a good sign.

“I am very unfamiliar with midgardian culture. Anything I should know?” Thor asked eagerly.

“Yes. Live by this word, which is ‘being in a total state of awareness’. The word is: Unagi.” You said, doing the hand motion with your first two fingers like a gun next to your eyeball. Thor gave you a confused look, but nodded along. Peter was laughing really hard, by was trying to hide it.

“Also, the best pickup line is ‘how you doin’?” Peter added on.

“I see.” Thor said, intrigued.

“What’re you guys telling him?” Bruce said, walking in to check on you to or like the ninth time today.

“Unagi.” You said, doing the hand motion.

“And ‘how you doin’?’” Peter said.

Bruce facepalmed. “Don’t listen to them. They’re trying to mess with you.”

“I am confused.” Thor said.

“Alright, you two need to get out so y/n can rest.” Bruce said, ending the conversation.

“Bye, y/n. By the way, I’m spider-man.” Peter said as he left.  

“Wait, what? You’re joking, right?” You said. Peter just smiled and left the room with Thor.

“He’s spider-man?” You ask Bruce, hoping that he was joking.

“Yeah, I guess you should know, since you’re gonna be here for awhile. He’s spider-man, I’m the hulk, Tony’s iron man and Stephen’s the sorcerer supreme. Cool, right?” Bruce said nonchalantly.

“Um, yeah. That’s kind of a big deal! I mean like I’m surrounded by avengers & stuff... like. Wow.” You said, slightly shocked.

“Do you wanna lift your arm?” Bruce asked. You knew the question was rhetorical, but you took the opportunity anyway.

“Oh, I wish I could, but I don’t want to.” You said, quoting friends again.

“You’re just like a friends quote machine, aren’t you?”

“Yyyyep!”

“So anyway, what’s going on for you?” Bruce asked.

“Well, I’m in a hospital bed surrounded by avengers, so that happens. You?”

Bruce sighed. “I’m trying to find a way to ask Thor out, but I don’t know how.”

“I’m not great with advice, but can I interest you with a sarcastic comment?”

Bruce have you a dirty look.

“Fine, I’ll stop.” You said.

“Really?”

“No.”

“Ok, well. I really like him, but he’s dated girls in the past and he might not be gay and I don’t want to ruin our really close friendship, y’know?”

“Yeah, that’s a tough situation. If he doesn’t like you than this is all a moo point. It’s like a cow’s opinion. It doesn’t matter. It’s moo.” You replies, hoping he wouldn’t choke the life out of you. Bruce laughed a little and went back to checking you.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad here.

—————————

“Come on! A horse would totally win in a fight with a cow!” You laughed, debating with Peter. You two had gotten really close over the past year. You had even gotten to go on a vacation with the avengers. Your life had pretty much gone back to normal. You had your own room in the avengers tower, because Bruce, Shuri, Tony and Stephen wanted to make sure you were ok. You would be leaving in a week, and it was sad to think you had to leave these people who’d basically become your family behind. It felt wrong. But they didn’t want you here, right? They were just being nice & caring for you. Yeah. It’s right to leave.

“Hey, you know Thor & Bruce went on a date?” Peter said.

“They didn’t!”

“They did! They’re a thing now!”

“Oh my god!”

“I know!”

“Ah, i’m gonna miss this.” You said kind of sadly.

“Yeah. Why do you have to go?” Peter pouted.

“It’s not helpful for me to stay here! I’m just a thorn in your guys’ side.”

Peter gave you a disappointed look. Over the course of the year, he had fallen in love with you. He tried really hard to repress it, but he just loved everything about you and it broke his heart that you had to go. You would see each other on campus, but it wasn’t the same. The worst part is you were totally oblivious to it.

“Do you ever have bad days?” Peter asked.

“Sure, I have my bad days, but then I remember what a cute smile I have. Hey, I have an idea for a trick we can play on Thor.” You said, a mischievous smile on your face.

“Do you wanna get Loki to help?”

“Yes. Trust me, it’ll be great.”

—————————

A week later, it was the day of your departure. By 9:00 am, you had gotten all of your stuff together. It was only a backpack of clothes, because that’s all you really needed when you were there. The avengers supplied the rest. You went to the living room where most of the avengers were to say goodbye.

“Hey, guys. Just wanted to say bye before I leave.”

Stephen and a couple other people stood up and walked over to talk to you.

“You sure have made a fast recovery for someone who almost died a year ago.” Tony joked. He was practically hanging off Stephen’s side.

“Yeah. Well. You know how it is.” You said.

“I’m going to miss all your friends quotes.” Bruce said. You knew this was genuine. You two were also pretty close.

“Could I recommend watching a little more ‘ESPN’ and a little less ‘E.’?” You knew it would make Bruce laugh.

After all the other goodbyes were done, Peter came in to say goodbye. You were going to miss that asshole so much. He came in and you and him stood in front of the elevator facing each other.

“Bye, Peter.” You practically whispered. You were forcing yourself not to cry. Instead of responding, he stepped towards you, put your head in his hands, and kissed you.

It was slow and nice, soft but still firm. You were standing there in shock for a few seconds. You had never really felt love for Peter, but as he kissed you you could feel yourself fall in love with him. It didn’t take you long to relax and start kissing him back, hands moving to his waist to pull him even closer. You had both totally forgotten that every single avenger was standing right there. When you both finally pulled back, staring at each other for what seemed like eternity. His eyes were so chocolaty brown. How had you never noticed that? He gave out a little nervous laugh, surprised you had kissed him back. The moment ended when Bruce cleared his through to draw to your attention that everyone was staring at you. You glanced to them, then Peter. Everyone was quiet for a few minutes. Even Tony had no snarky or sarcastic comment to make. That’s a first.

“Um... hey, guys....” Peter stutters out. It just makes the tension in the room grow.

“Please tell me the rest of you guys just say Peter & y/n kiss.” Nat said.

You gave everyone a half smile and turned your head back to Peter.

“You should stay here.” He whispered, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Maybe I will.” You said, smiling like an idiot.

“He’s their lobster!” Bruce whispered, just loud enough so you & Peter could hear.

You smiled at the reference he made.

And you didn’t contradict him.

--------

THIS IS LIVE FROM NEW YORK IT’S SATURDAY NIGHT!!!

[george-mackay-macfine]

Bad At Love

A/N I’ve been inundated with a lot of requests for Dean one-shots, and I realised there are little to no Dean centric fanfics, Oneshots etc... So I’ve repurposed an old story I was writing to fit as a Dean story. 

If you requested a Dean oneshot I am still working on them, but I wanted to show Dean some love. 

Introduction:

You know that feeling you get when you’re going down the stairs and you accidentally skip a step and you think you’re falling and you think you’re going to die but then your foot lands on the next step and it’s like nothing ever happened? Well if you multiply that feeling by one thousand, make it last so much longer, and mix it with hate, paint, satisfaction, anger, lust, relief, anxiety, passion, shock, guilt, denial and frustration then you’ll understand what it’s like to fall in love. To fall in love with someone so passionately that your world revolves around them, and what they're doing and how their feeling. At least that’s what it was like for me. 

Chapter One 

“The Beatles, White album… John Lennon, Milk and Honey… Stevie Wonder.” I mumbled to myself as I flicked through the crates filled with old vinyl before me. Brighton's was a popular vinyl store and cafe nestled in the outskirts of Georgetown. It was a diamond in the rough if you were looking for a good record store. Brighton's was filled with them, a two-story loft building packed to the brim with vinyl, new and old. The bottom level was sorted neatly into genres and then by the artists, but the top-level and my own personal favourite was where the crates filled with albums the owners haven’t got around to sorting yet, This is where you find all the gems.

“Writing a shopping list there Sienna?” I looked up from the Jimmy Buffet ‘Living and Dying 3/4 Time’ album I was holding to see my best friend Halley staring at me, amused pausing digging through her own crate. Her green eyes sparkling with excitement as she pushed her honey blonde hair behind her left ear. Her thin lips pulling into a knowing smirk. 

“If that’s what you want to call it Halley.” I laughed putting the Jimmy Buffett album on top of my other selections before sifting through the albums again. Bob Dylan… Bon Iver… I smiled over at Halley as we both listened to someone on the bottom level lift the arm off the player, the distinct sound of the record stopping filling the store before the sound of Elton Johns ‘Bennie and the Jet’s’ blasted through the sound system. I laughed at myself as I did a little shuffle to the music. Elton’s voicing rebounding around the room. 

“So.. Sienna.” I nodded my head for Halley to continue as I went back to my growing pile, hips swaying as I flipped through it again checking over everything I’d found. Bowie… Fleetwood Mac… “I was thinking about our plans for tonight.” Halley voiced hesitantly. I looked up at her, one of my eyebrows shooting up. She was biting her bottom lip as she held onto her own pile of vinyl, knuckles turning white from the grip she had on them a telltale sign she was nervous. 

“That could be dangerous.” I joked turning and making my way to the other side of the amply sized loft, looking down and over the bottom level of the shop littered with people, pulling vinyl out left, right and centre. I watched as a guy in his mid-thirties picked up a copy of Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’. “Do you think he’s going to buy it?” I called over my shoulder to Halley, not taking my eyes of the man. She sighed, but put her pile down none the less, and worked her way over to me, agitated that I’d changed the subject. “The guy with the Jackson.” I pointed down to him. “I think he will.” 

“I don’t think so.” Halley shook her head watching him with me. “He’s totally not into it.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes at Halley. “Alright then. Let’s make it interesting.” Halley turned to me, a smiling pulling on her lips and she toiled with an idea in her head. “If he buys it you get to choose what we do tonight.” I couldn’t help but smile already tasting the red wine and hearing the sweet sounds of Fleetwood Mac. “But.” Halley rudely shook me from my daydream. “If he doesn’t buy it, you have to do whatever I want to do tonight.” I opened my mouth to disagree but she held up her hand to stop me. “With a smile on your lips and pure joy in every step you take.” 

I looked between my best friend and the guy on the bottom floor. Judging quickly if I really thought he’d buy it, as I looked at him for the second time he’d started to pull the vinyl out and check the date stamped on it. I made up my mind. 

“You’re on.” With a final nod at each other, we both spun on our heels and leaned over the balcony watching the man below like hawks. “Come on man, you know you want it,” I whispered under my breath. “Just buy it already, come on.” I groaned as he flipped it over for what felt like the hundredth time. “Who doesn’t like Michael Jackson.” 

“He’s not going too.” I could hear the smirk in Halley’s voice. I ignored her and held my breath as he pushed the vinyl back inside its cover. Watching with wide eyes as he slipped it back into the crate it started in and turned away, walking down the centre aisle towards the door, crushing any hope I had of sitting home and drinking red wine with every step he took. 

“No.” I cried out loudly as he made it to the front door, people turned and looked up at us including the guy who’d just sentenced me to a night of Halley controlled fun. Waving awkwardly at everyone as Halley hooked an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to her body. She giggled as she squeezed my shoulder. 

“As I was saying before.” She cleared her throat. I could tell she was taking too much pleasure from the situation. “Tonight we are going to that new pizza place, the one Stacey was telling me about last week, Uncle Tony’s where we will find some cute boy’s to buy us beers.” She wiggled her eyebrow’s at my teasingly as she dropped her arm from my shoulder turning her body to face mine. “And then we are joining the girls at the Ivy to dance the night away and make sweet, sweet mistakes we won’t remember in the morning.” I opened my mouth to object to her plans, but Halley held a hand up to stop me. “You made a deal. You cannot back out Sienna Jacobs. I won’t let you.” She lowered her hand. “Now you will come back to our apartment, get yourself ready and we will have fun tonight. Have I made myself clear.” I nodded my head a slight pout on my lips. “Good, now go and buy your records.” She clapped her hands together gleefully. “Tonight is going to be so much fun.”

“So much fun,” I mumbled sarcastically as I walked back over to my deserted pile of treasures.  

One of the numerous things I had learned about Halley through our eighteen years of friendship was that Halley Morgan Adams was never late she despised it, that’s why not even five hours later I was sitting in the front seat of her yellow Kia Soul, dressed in a pair of skin-tight black jeans and a white t-shirt with Elvis Presley’s mug shot on it pouting my arse off. “Are you ready?” With a flick of her hair and a smile she started up the ignition and drove far to quickly to the new pizza place, ’Uncle Tonys’ that we’d been hearing non-stop raving reviews about for the last week and a half. For the first part of the ride I promised myself I wouldn’t speak to Halley, partly to punish her for the night we had ahead of us, and partly because I was upset that I wasn’t at home listening to my new records. However, when we’d been in the car for ten minutes with nothing but Taylor Swift playing through the sound system I resigned to my fate and turned it down, deciding a conversation was the lesser of two evils. 

“Are you excited to start classes again tomorrow?” I quizzed Halley as I watched the bright lights of the street pass us by. “In my opinion spring break went way too quickly, and we should have two more weeks off.” I nodded my head to reinforce my opinion causing Halley to chuckle. 

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to have to put down the book’s you’ve been reading non-stop in exchange for a textbook.” She snorted out a laugh as she pulled to a stop at a red light. 

“Untrue. I just rather the works of Stephen King, over having to hand in assessment’s, any day.” She shook her head laughing at me. 

“You’re the one who wanted to become a big hot shot editor, now you have to pay the price.” She replied quickly taking off when the light turned green. “We’re here.” She smiled as she pulled into a carpark and began to drive around in a circle looking for a vacant spot. “There’s one.” She smiled proudly as she pulled into an empty spot putting the gear stick into park. 

“Don’t hate on my aspirations okay, Ms I wanna be an HR administrator,” I muttered as I unbuckled my seatbelt, pushing the door open. As I stood next to the car I looked over the stand-alone building. A fluorescent sign that read ‘Fresh Pizza’ glowed in the window. The outside housed tables with red and white checked cloths, couples and families sat laughing and enjoying the food before them. 

“It’s a realistic dream okay.” Halley glared over the car at me, before walking towards the trunk, stopping and looking over the building for herself. 

“C’mon.” She smiled delightedly as she skipped through the carpark towards the front door. I shook my head and followed behind her, watching as she happily waited by the door for me to catch her. “This place is so cute.” She called back, peering through one of the glass panels on the door as I reached her. “Oh, he’s even cuter.” She giggled pulling the door open, both of us stepping inside. 

Once inside Halley and I took a minute to look around. The walls were painted a soft yellow filling the whole inside with a soft warm glow, a wall of fake stones lined the far wall with paintings of olives hanging above each of the booths that ran along with the stones. All the tables apart from two booths were filled, a mix of college students and families occupying them filling the whole restaurant with a loud buzz. I guess we aren’t the only ones excited to try out the new pizza. Grabbing my hand Halley pulled me over and down to one of the empty booths, pushing me down onto the plush red seat before sitting down on the opposite side. 

“Can you believe how busy this place is?” She rolled her eyes as she put her clutch beside her on the seat. “You’d think people would have better things to do.” She looked around at the tables. I rolled my eyes and looked around the restaurant.  

“Wouldn’t that mean that we should have better things to do Halley?” She flipped me off quickly before waving down the waiter with a flirty smile. He smirked at her as he walked over from the bar leaning across the table to give her a wink as he pulled out his order pad and pen.

“What can I get you, ladies?” His eyes travelled up Halley’s body, stopping to check out her cleavage. Halley smirked as she ran a hand up and down his arm. 

“Can we get two beers and a large pepperoni pizza?” Halley looked at me raising an eyebrow in question. I nodded my head and looked around trying to avoid watching the scene that was playing out before me.  

“Of course, I’ll make sure it’s the next one to come out…” The boy stuttered out looking down at where Halley’s fingers ran up and down the length of his hand, with a nod the waiter walked away from us fanning himself with the pad turning to look back at Halley once more a goofy love-struck smile on his face. 

“You need to stop doing that to boys.” I laughed resting my chin on my palm as I looked around the restaurant. “Seriously one day, one of them is going to have a heart attack and we are going to be sued.” I leant across the table. “In case you didn’t realise. We don’t have enough money to be sued.” 

“We?” She questioned with a raised brow a smile pulling on her lips.

“You don’t think I’m going to let you go to jail on your own do you?” 

“This is why we are best friends Sienna.” She chuckled. “Where did that cute guy go?” She looked around through the crowd searching for whoever she saw through the window. That’s Halley Adams my boy crazy best friend. 

“The two beers and the pizza.” The waiter called placing a beer before each of us and the pizza in between. As he placed Halley’s beer in front of her I couldn’t help but notice the napkin with a scrawled number that went along with it. Halley smirked at me before winking at him. “Told you it’d be the next one out.”

“That you did. Thanks.” With a nod of his head, the blushing boy raced back behind the bar only to start chatting to his friend. I laughed and shook my head as I watched him point over to Halley. “He’s telling his friend isn’t he?” She asked looking down at the napkin picking it up. “Riley… Cute name.”

“Cute name, for a cute boy.” I shrugged playing with the ring that sat on my right ring finger, spinning it. “You know he probably stole this pizza from another table?” Halley looked up from the paper, “One that’s been waiting for way longer than us.” I emphasised leaning forward onto the table. 

“Least we didn’t have to wait.” She laughed picking up a slice, her eyes looked past mine before snapping back to me. “Don’t look now, but here comes my number one fan.” I turned and looked to where she was looking only a moment ago, finding exactly what she had seen. “Xander Preston… Even his name gives me the creeps.” Halley muttered as Xander stood up from one of the tables near the door sauntering across to us he glanced back at his friend they all cheered loudly at him when he turned back around, a smirk playing on his lips as he overconfidently strutted past a table filled with girls, winking at them. When he reached us he sat down beside Halley throwing an arm around her shoulders. Halley and I both looked at the offending object before looking to Xander. “Can we help you, Xander?” I watched as Xander pushed his black hair out of his brown eyes watching Halley as she spoke, concentrated on her lips. Halley tried to shrug his arm off her shoulder, shuffling down on the booth seat. 

“Just came to see my number one girl.” His fingers started to play with the thin strap of her dress, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, his arm still hugging her shoulders. He stopped, looking over to me. “And her best friend of course.” 

“Really Xander? Your ‘number one’ girl?” Halley rolled her eyes. Xander smirked wider as he lifted her chin with his hand.  

“C’mon baby, you know you are.” 

“You misplace something, Preston?” Xander jumped in his seat immediately removing his hand from Halley’s shoulder. “Or do you just enjoy touching girls who clearly don’t want to be touched by you?” My eyes flicked away from Xander to where the booming voice had come from, next to our booth stood a group of three guys. The one in front was muscular and well built, his forearms bulging as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Well?” His blue eyes shot invisible daggers into Xander’s body. Xander smiled awkwardly jumping out of the seat he was occupying and putting as much space between himself and Halley as he could scratching the back of his neck. I rolled my eyes as Xander started to splutter out a reply and looked past him to the two guy’s who stood behind the first watching the scene play out. I looked at all three of them, noticing they wore matching black t-shirts with The Ivy printed on them with gold stitching. 

“No I, I just… Halley is my…” Xander squirmed. I looked back to him watching silently as he looked between Halley and I waiting for one of us to save him. “We’re just…” He tried to explain to the intimidating stranger. “She’s my…” 

“Halley isn’t your anything, understand?” The stranger didn’t break eye contact with Xander. I looked at Halley whose mouth hung slightly open as she watched the stranger. “She is not a piece of meat. So if I see you lay a single hand on her ever again I’ll beat the shit out of you.” The guy leaned in closer to Xander. “You got that Preston?” Stranger number one hissed getting even closer to Xander’s face as he spoke, each word sounding more and more dangerous than the last. Nodding his head rapidly Xander scurried back to the table where his friends sat watching the whole fiasco play out before them.  Stranger number one stared Xander down for another minute before he turned back to the table leaning onto it slightly towards Halley. “Sorry about that,” Halley shook her head quickly. 

“No thank you for helping… I’ve been trying to get him to leave me alone for weeks.” Halley giggled as my eyes left Halley’s knight in shining armour once again and drifted over to the third member of the group. He looked as though he was twenty-four, standing with both his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his black skinny jeans like the others he wore the black shirt with gold stitching above the breast. I let my eyes run over his body, drinking in his features. Starting with the ink that covered his left arm where little space of bare skin remained untouched by the intricate tattoo’s wrapping around the exposed muscle. My eyes drifted up over his torso and to his face. He has a sharp jawline, standing out prominent, his cheeks tanned, and covered with days worth of stubble. His eyes were big and round, childlike almost, clouded a deep blue colour, bushy eyebrows following the curve of his brow bone. His nose appeared to have been broken before as it loomed over a pair of smirking lips. His hair was a dark shade of brown and styled into a presentable quiff. I was unable to stop myself from looking back at his eyes, where to my surprise he was already looking at me. Feeling my cheeks redden I looked down to the table trying to calm myself. 

“Don’t worry about it. That guy is a creep.” I felt Halley kick my shin under the table causing me to wince slightly and look up at her. I heard a deep chuckle come from one of the strangers. “Have a good night ladies.” I looked up once again to meet the eyes of the blue-eyed stranger, he smiled sightly as he turned on his heel and followed his friends towards the door. 

“Holy shit, do you know who that was?” Halley asked her lips pulled into a big smile. I shook my head and picked up my beer, sipping it. “Sienna, we were just saved by the three hottest bartenders who work at the Ivy.” She clapped her hands together. 

“You… They saved you.” 

“Semantics.” She giggled. “I can’t believe it… Those guys… I don’t think they’ve ever done that before… They don’t usually talk to people.” 

“What do you even mean ‘They don’t usually talk to people’. Halley that’s ridiculous. They’re just people.” I tucked some hair behind my ear. “Who are they anyway?” I asked as I grabbed a slice of pizza, pulling the toppings off to eat. She took a deep breath, preparing herself. 

“Okay, so the one who told Xander to back off, his name is George MacKay. He’s studying Mechanical Engineering. I can’t even count the amount of time’s I’ve drooled over him.” She picked up her own beer and took a sip. 

“That’s attractive.” 

“The quiet one at the back with the longer hair. Did you see him?” She ignored me only stopping when she waited for me to nod. “His name is Logan Daniels.” I nodded again. “He’s studying Microbiology. Super smart.” 

“Halley, you need to breathe.” 

“Can’t too excited.” I laughed shaking my head picking at the pizza again. “Okay, so the last one… The last one, with all the tattoos… His name is Dean Charles Chapman, he’s studying English Literature, he wants to become a journalist I think Stacey told me once. Stacey has been trying to get with him since she met him at the Ivy last year” My interest in him peaked as she spoke. “My God, I can’t wait to tell her all of this.” She beamed. 

“Have you ever spoken to him before?” I asked. “Or any of them?” Halley shook her head no. 

“Not really, maybe once or twice at the Ivy. You know the occasional ‘Sorry I just bumped into you.’ Or the ‘Can I get a vodka Redbull.’ But nothing that would explain that.” She started to fan herself. 

“Maybe he’s interested in you?” I shrugged my shoulders still picking at the pizza in front of me. 

“Do you think?” She asked her eyes going wide, cheeks flushing pink. 

“You never know.” I downed the last of my beer and threw a twenty dollar note on the table as Halley threw down another fifteen. “Let’s get to the club. I really don’t want to wait in line tonight.” 

Stale piss. 

From the minute we walked in the door’s it’s all I could smell. No matter how much this place was scrubbed from top to bottom, the scent never changed. No matter how much bleach was poured on the floor and smothered over surfaces, it would still smell like stale piss.

At least to me, Maybe it doesn't to other people. Maybe to others, it's still a place of joy, and happiness but now, to me it was the same mundane, piss scented bar. People come here to find love at the bottom of a whiskey filled glass, hoping for a night of meaningless passionless, lust-driven sex. Maybe sometimes they find it, maybe they don’t. Booths lined the walls where people sat drinking and talking, some girls begging for attention, others danced in their seats laughing at how silly they must look to onlookers like me. A couple of tables littered the area around the bar and barstools lining half the length of the bar.

“Come on Sienna, it’s a girl’s night, at least pretend to have fun.” Stacey pulls at my hand, her fake nails digging into my palm as her long blonde hair swirled around her face, her blue eyes large and round, her lips fake and pouted. “This is the promise land, any of these boys could be yours for the night.” She motioned around us as guys looked girls up and down as if they were some sort of meat on display at a butcher. “Maybe more, if you’re lucky.” She winked at me and giggled as she hit her hip into mine. I hate this place. It's not a promise land, where I can meet new and interesting people, hold intelligent conversations with people. All it is a place for twenty-something-year-olds to come in the chance of getting a quick lay. 

“I’m going to get a drink,” I yelled over the loud obnoxious music to Halley and Stacey. “I need to be wasted to be here.” 

“I’ll come.” Halley smiled grabbing onto my elbow. “Maybe we’ll see our friends again.” I rolled my eyes and pushed through the sweaty people nearing the bar. 

“As long as it ends up with me drinking alcohol that’s fine with me.” I pushed someone softly out of the way, worming through other bodies to get Halley and me to the front. “Excuse me,” I grunted as we made it out of the swarming crowd near the dance floor. We stopped to look over the bar, three bartenders stood behind it, each making a drink. 

“C’mon it’s less crowded over here.” Halley grabbed my arm around, as we headed down to the less populated end. I laughed and looked at which bartender was serving in the middle section of the bar. 

“Sure it doesn’t have anything to do with the bartender.” I looked over my shoulder to see George pouring whisky into a shot glass. 

“Are you having fun?” Halley yelled over the music ignoring me completely, turning her back on the bar. I nodded my head shrugging, indifferent. “Sienna, I wish you were having more fun.” She frowned reaching out grabbing my hand. 

“What can I get for you?” A deep voice rumbled from behind us over the music, I watched as Halley’s eyes went wide. She turned slowly to face George, who had a smile pulling on his lips. “Nice to see you again ladies.” I nudged Halley with my elbow. She snapped out of her daze and smiled politely. 

“Hi, uh, Yeah.” She shook her head. “I mean, thanks for that… tonight at Uncle Tony’s I mean…” I looked down and played with my rings as I waited for Halley to order drinks for both of us. “So you work here huh?” Halley tried. “I mean obviously you work here.” I watched on as Halley awkwardly found her ground, pushing her hair behind her ear as she laughed at herself. 

“Can I get you something.” A deep voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see the guy with the tattoos - Dean - from tonight, leaning against the bar smiling down at me. I looked at the bottles shelved behind him as I walked up to the bar leaning on it, bottom lip slipping between my teeth as I thought. Finally, I gave up, looking from the bottles to him. 

“I'm not too sure... Why don't you surprise me?” I leant forward on the bar, getting closer to him, the light flowed around him making him look angelic. 

“Do you like sweet or sour?” His voice was husky as I maintained eye contact, trying not to lose myself in the blue of his eyes anymore than I already had. I couldn’t help my lips twisting up slightly at the comment.

“I’m feeling sweet tonight.” He chuckled white teeth exposing themselves as he smiled, turning his back to me. Grabbing the bottles of alcohol from the shelves behind me he turned his head slightly. I began to fiddle with my rings, twisting them a nervous habit of mine. 

“What’s your name?” I stopped, my hand's frozen on the bar, turning around to face me he was placing all the ingredient's on the bench in front of me. "Are you not allowed to tell me your name?" He smiled at me again and I was gone, a breathy smile escaped me as he smiled down at me.

“Sienna, And you? What's your name?" He continued to make my drink.

"Dean." I nodded my head. “It’s nice to meet you Sienna.”

"So what are you making there Dean?" I looked up at him again, he was still watching me, watching as I leaned forward lip in between my teeth, eyes curious as he poured the liqueurs out.

"Espresso martini." He started to shake it. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and giggle. He stopped shaking and lent forward onto the bar."Don't you like Espresso Martini’s, Sienna?” The way my name sounded coming from him made my stomach flutter. Feeling dangerous and unlike myself, I lent towards him. 

"It's okay. I mean it’s literally the martini version of the classic ‘white girl’ drink of vodka Redbull. A basic drink, easily done and something I can recreate at home, But I’ll give it a try." I leant forward towards him, our noses almost touching, I could feel his breath against my skin. "Who knows maybe you do it differently to the others… Better perhaps.”

“I definitely do it better.” We weren’t talking about the drink anymore. He replied pulling away to finish the drink, only looking up when it was finished. "One hopefully not boring Espresso Martini." He smirked at me causing me to giggle. I pulled my card from my wallet and went to hand it to him. He shook his head and pushed the drink closer to me. "Don't worry about it. It's on me.” 

"Dean, I insist." I pushed the card out towards him again, he put a hand up to stop me from trying anymore.

"It's fine. Enjoy your night." He collected everything he’d used for the drink, turning to put it back into the respective spots. 

"Dean." He turned around; I was still in my previous spot, watching him as he worked. He walked closer, leaning slightly across the bar. I smiled up playfully and before I even knew what was happening, What I was doing. I’d leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank-you," I whispered into his ear, my cheek still pushed against his. “I’m sure the drink is delicious." I pulled away, picking up the drink, walking away, with one final glance over my shoulder. He was leaning on the bar, a devastatingly handsome smile on his face. 

“Sienna, there you are.” Stacey grabbed my shoulder pulling me to a stop. A bit of my drink spilled onto the ground, splashing over her shoes. “Sorry.” She looked over her shoes before back to me. “Have you seen Halley?” I shook my head. 

“Last I saw her, she was at the bar talking to one of the bartenders, George.” I looked back to the bar to see Halley still where I’d left her. Smiling as he handed her a drink. She smiled and waved before making her way over to us. “Here she is.” 

“Sorry.” She apologised. “George and I got to talking.” There wasn’t a trace of remorse in her tone as she giggled. She looked at me as my eyebrow corked up. “I’ll explain later.” I nodded my head, bringing my drink to my lips. I sipped carefully. The mix of vodka, coffee liqueur and espresso dancing across my tongue, rich, indulgent and creamy. Dean was right, he does do it better. 

“Whose dancing with me?” Stacey changed the subject, her eyes still on the bar… On George and Dean. “Because, ladies there are so many young, attractive males here tonight, who I think to deserve a show.” I followed her eyes, she was watching Dean as he threw a piece of ice at George laughing when it hit his friend in the back. I turned back, looking at Halley.

“What do you say?” Halley smiled. Her eyes went to the bar, to George. I smiled weakly.

“Look’s like we’re dancing.” I grabbed Halley’s hand, dragging her behind Stacey onto the dance floor. “You better put on a good show for him.” I moaned. “Because I could be home right now, listening to Jimmy Buffet on cheap shitty red wine.” She shook her head. 

“You’re always drunk on cheap shitty red wine.” She taunted back. “But I will put on a good show.” She smirked, swaying her hips. “He watching?” Quickly I darted my eyes to the bar… To George. His eyes were on Halley. 

“He’s watching.” 

Sweat. Smoke. Alcohol. Body odour. That’s all that I could smell wherever I went, wherever I turned. Around me bodies moved pushing themselves up against any surface they could, grabbing onto other people as their bodies gyrated against another person. 

“C’mon Sienna. Dance with me.” Halley grabbed my hands. 

“Halley you know I hate to dance, it’s not something I’m good at. It’s -.”  

“Sienna.” I was cut off by a boy who came up stopping beside us, slinging an arm around my waist pulling me into an awkward side hug fingertips digging into my skin as the material of my t-shirt lifted. I vaguely recognised him from my communications class, but we weren't friends so nothing made this encounter less uncomfortable. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” He yelled over the music before he looked at Halley and smiled I waited for him to remove his arm from my waist but he never did, which caused me to raise my eyebrow at Halley. “Sorry, my names Henry. Sienna and I share a communications class.” Henry that’s what his name was… Henry.

“Halley,” She said extending an arm to Henry following it with a deathly glare. Henry smiled, extending his own hand to Halley. Shaking his hand, she didn’t drop her glare. “Nice to meet you.” 

“You ladies having a good night?” Henry slurred, words joining each other in a drunken fashion, his weight shifting onto me. 

“We are, thanks,” I yelled back, hoping he’d catch my tone.

“Me too.” He ran his free hand through his hair. “I’m fucked though. The boys and I have been drinking since four this afternoon.” He chuckled stupidly. 

“Wow, I’m surprised you’re standing.” Halley deadpanned. 

“Do you want to dance Sienna?” Henry smiled down at me.

“I don’t really dance.”

“I can teach you.” His drunken smile widened as his hand dropped down to grab mine, pulling me away from Halley before I could object. I stumbled my way through the crowd trying to loosen Henry’s grip on my hand, hoping I could lose him in the crowd when Henry stopped. I looked around smiling awkwardly trying to figure out how exactly people moved to this kind of music. Studying how they rocked their bodies somewhat in tempo with the music. “You don’t like Iggy?” Henry asked, mouths moving to the song. I shrugged again. 

“I’m not good at dancing, remember.” I shrugged and started to sway side to side holding my hands together hoping Henry wouldn't grab hold of them again before I figured out a way to leave without offending him. There was nothing worse than a white boy who got rejected. Against my highest hopes, he grabbed my hands and started to pull them above my head and make me move more freely or so he thought, it couldn't have felt any stranger for me than it did. He kept this up for a while before he pulled me closer to him so his body was pressed against mine attempting to get our bodies to move as one to the music, thrusting his hips into mine, his lips going to my neck his nose travelling along the length of it before he planted a kiss on my collar bone. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe, Everyone was standing too close to me and I forgot how to breathe.

“You look really good Sienna.” 

“I need some water,” I said quickly pulling away from him and rushing off the dance floor. I reached the water station at the bar, pouring myself a cup and downing it.  

“Easy tiger.” I looked up to meet the worried eyes of George “Are you okay?” I nodded my head and poured another drink. “You’re Halley’s friend right?” He held his hand out. “I’m George.” I extended my hand and opened my mouth ready to reply. 

“Sienna there you are.” My eyes widened as I heard Henry yell from behind me. “Why’d you run back there?” I turned and tried to answer but he just got closer. “I thought we were having a good time.” 

“I just really needed water.” I motioned behind me. “Worked up a thirst.” 

“But things were just getting started.” Henry smiled, a smiled I’m sure he thought would have me weak at the knees as he reached around and grabbed onto my ass and give it a squeeze.  

“Hey.” I yelped, trying to back away. 

“Did you seriously just grab her,” George growled from behind me. 

“She liked it, don’t worry big guy.” My mouth dropped, hands going up to his chest. 

“What the fu—.” 

“Sir.” We both looked over to see a tall, built security guard standing near us. “I’m going to need you to come with me.” Henry pushed himself away from me, knocking me back into the wood of the bar. “You need to leave the premises.” 

“I’m not even drunk.” He argued. “You can’t kick me out for being sober.” 

“You need to come with me sir, you’re making a scene.” 

“S, Are you okay?” Halley whispered in my ear as she rushed up to stand beside me. 

“Why am I being kicked out.” Henry continued to argue chest puffing out. 

“One of our staff advised us that you are too intoxicated to be on-premises.” The security guard got closer. 

“Who told you that.” 

“Don’t make me throw you out.” Henry took one look between me and the guard.

“She’s not even worth it.” He looked at me once again scoffing and pushing past us. The guard nodded at us before following him out. 

“Sienna” I heard from behind me. I turned to see George still standing behind us, leaning down on the bar. “Are you sure you’re okay? You rushed out of there pretty quickly.” I let my head fall back against the brick wall next to the water fountain.

“Yeah, he was just giving me a weird vibe.”

“So he’s not your boyfriend.” Halley and I shook my head. “So you’re single.” I nodded. “Thank god. We had reports of him spiking other girls drink. When Dea - One of the guys saw him dancing with you, he got Big Mike involved.” 

“Thanks, George.” 

“Come on Sienna, Let’s get you home.” I let Halley pull me to the door, Stopping to say goodbye to Stacey and the other girls as we made our way to the door. I looked back to the bar where  I saw Dean on the way out a girl sitting in front of him at the bar, running a hand up and down his arm. He wasn’t watching her though, His eyes were on me. With one final look at Dean, Halley pulled me out the door and back to reality.

[carringtonblackwood]

Good Samaritan {PotW}

Night-shift can be a real pain in the neck.  

Where: The mostly empty parking lot outside WC Memorial. 

When: the evening of May 3rd, 2020 (immediately following this)

Who: Carrington, @deweythedew​, and @laylacooke​

Triggers: medical blood, gore, injury

Layla had been out roaming the streets of White Crest when night had fallen. She hadn’t intended on being out as late as she had, but, luckily, for her, she had her wolf sense to guide her back to the cabin she was currently staying in with Ari and Ulf. However, as she seemed to move along, something in the air caught her attention. Following her nose, it had led her straight to the culprit. The body of a man lying in a parking lot, not moving. Heart beginning to beat a little harder, Layla glanced around the area hoping to see someone who could help. Anyone that could help. But as she moved closer, she noticed the stench of death, “What...the…” Had it been another mime attack? Was the mime still in the area? Layla, in all the time she had studied the ways of the hunter, had never seen a dead body before, “Um...hey...Why am I speaking to it? Layla...you idiot, if it smells like roadkill, it probably is roadkill…” Finally right next to the man’s form, she slowly bent down, but something stopped her, and instead, she rose back up, “I’ll just…” With her foot, she gently nudged the man to see if her nose had been deceiving her. “Okay, no movement…” Reaching into her pocket, Layla dug out her phone ready to call 911.

Carrington had spent the evening at home, lounging on the sofa and rotating between watching a rather lackluster movie on Netflix, and reading the Stephen King novel he’d recently picked up. Though he found the tale a bit much for his current mood. He simply felt… restless. After awhile, he simply muted the television and closed his eyes, focusing on the white noise of the central heating system as it hummed in the background, hoping to find some of the quiet the world nearly always lacked. 

How long he had been out, Dewey truly couldn’t tell. Minutes? Hours? Enough time that any trace of the smoke which had filtered into the air, in all it’s striped mysticism, had entirely vanished, and the small center of the world he found himself in had gone eerily quiet. While he didn’t need to breathe, he didn't have to, he still inhaled a sharp, strangled gasp as his eyes flew open, fingers reaching out for anything to grasp onto - which, in this case, happened to be the red-head’s ankle. Cold fingers locked onto the warmth as his mind scrambled to properly re-align itself, to make sense of what the hell had just happened however long prior to being knocked out.

Layla hadn’t expected him to rise from the dead, but when she felt the grip of his hand on her ankle, she screamed bloody-murder and fell backwards onto the ground. Shaking him off of her, she quickly sprang to her knees and released a low, feral growl towards him. But when she realized he wasn’t a threat, and was actually needing help, she slowly crawled towards him, “Hey...are you-are you okay? D-Do you need me to call for help?” Of course that’s what the poor man needed, but Layla hadn’t ever been in this situation before. As she moved closer, she noticed the blood pouring out of his throat, and quickly put her hands up to try and stop the bleeding.

Right, he was still bleeding. Well, it likely looked far worse than it actually was, taking into account all the black still smeared across his face and shirt. And Dewey still had no idea what to actually make of it all - it had to be some sort of blood… even if it did smell faintly of pastry. No, not the time to think about how insane all of this was. Initially thinking he was about to get attacked once more, he was relieved when she seemed to realize he didn’t mean her any harm. Coughing on a mouthful of stale blood, he parted his lips and began to explain what had happened… only, no sound issued forth. His brow furrowed, and he tried again - with the same result. No sound, no trace of his voice, nothing. He silently swore, head swimming from both confusion and pain. Oh God, how was he meant to communicate anything now? Wait--

Swallowing down another gag, his black-stained fingers fumbled around in his trouser pocket, eventually landing on the form of his cellular. Shakily entering the passcode, he tapped it against the red-head’s side insistently, gaze pleading. 

Carrington had had no luck finding anything to distract him this evening. Perhaps he should go for a run. That usually worked. A few miles through the forest might be what he needed. It was a lovely night, and his head was entirely too full of tumbling thoughts for him to stay idle. There were other things he’d much rather be doing. Other people he’d much rather be spending time with. But he didn’t want to be a bother. 

A run it was. He pushed up from the sofa and headed upstairs to change into his running gear. 

Layla continued to put pressure on the wound. “Please don’t die on me, Mr. Dude. I can’t deal with this, either. Just be okay. Alright. Hang in there...please.” She continued to look around frantically until she noticed him nudging her side. Looking down to see the phone, she released one of her hands from his neck, “What do you want me to do with this? 911?” Realizing he couldn’t speak, possibly from all the blood, her eyes grew wide, “Duh, Layla. Boy’s got a mouth full of blood.” She turned her attention back on him, “I’m gonna call 911 okay? Nod yes if that’s okay...No! Don’t nod...uh, blink twice for yes, if that’s okay!”

Don’t die. Well, technically, he wouldn't. Couldn’t. Technically. Dewey was fairly certain that he hadn’t lost enough blood that it would end in his demise, but definitely enough that it warranted a day’s rest and a generous feeding. He wished he could have said something, anything to assuage her worries, but as it was he was still a soundless, bleeding, essential corpse that could do little other than to gesture and blink. 911 - that would not go over well. At all. He squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced, even mouthing ‘no’, hoping that would convey his answer, before attempting to motion towards his phone again. He would have instantly said to call Carrington, that he would know what to do, but he was fairly certain mouthing his name would do little but confuse her. Damn it all.

Carrington changed into his joggers, a tshirt and hoodie, and his running shoes like usual. But he didn’t feel the usual pull to get out of his home and into the open air. The town was brimming with unease, and he could feel it everytime he walked down the street lately. Shadows moving in corners, gone when he looked their way. Soft shuffling sounds that had no origin he could lock in on. The reports of attacks he’d heard whispered about and posted online. It was enough to make even the centuries old vampire feel… slightly nervous. 

Perhaps he should text Dewey. If only so he knew the other man was alright this evening. But he didn’t wish to trouble him just because Carrington felt uneasy. Though he knew he was unlikely to rest easily until that particular worry was put to rest. So he snagged his phone, briefly sitting on his bed to send Dewey a text. 

{text}: Is your evening going alright? 

 Layla looked closely at the man laying next to her. She didn’t want to misread anything, and when she noticed him blink and mouth the word ‘no’, she was a bit confused, “Then...if not the cops, who do you want me to call?” She was just about to dial the number anyways, when she saw a text come through, “Um…” She paused. Was he in his right mind? Was she even equipped to be dealing with this? Her wolf hunter parents had taught her a thing or two about first aid, but it was like everything she had learned was going right out the door, “Some chick named Carrington just texted you?” How was she supposed to know Carrington was a guy. The only time she had ever heard the name was in that Casper movie as a child.

Anyone but the police. God, that would go over even worse. Dewey was about to give up when he heard the familiar text tone of his phone, and when she mentioned ‘Carrington’, his eyes blew wide open and he shakily raised a finger to tap on the screen. Please, please understand what I mean… Or, what I’m trying to convey. Oh hell, this was going about as well as could be expected, wasn’t it? He sighed through his nose, head lolling back a bit as he panted.

When Dewey didn’t text back after a few minutes, Carrington figured he was busy with work, or otherwise occupied, so he grabbed his keys and stuck them in his pocket. Heading outside, he turned to lock the front door, securing his airpods in his ears before heading down the front steps. 

She could sense this was who the man had wanted her to contact. Layla could see it in his eyes and considering he was using up valuable strength to tell her that, she knew what she needed to do. Opening the text up, Layla, shakely with one hand, texted Carrington back.

{text:} need help. come quick

Layla sent the text quickly, but realized she hadn’t put the location. “Crap! I didn’t put the location! I don’t even know where we’re at!” She looked to Dewey with desperation in her eyes.

Carrington’s phone pinged just as he was stepping off the curb. He stopped and pulled it out, his neutral expression instantly turning to one of concern. Instantly, he turned back to the house, jogging to the garage and hitting the button to open the automatic door. 

(text) On the way. What happened?

He climbed into the Aston Martin and backed out, hitting the app that would send him the location of Dewey’s phone before hitting the Bluetooth that would dial Dewey’s number. He waited in tense anticipation as the phone started to ring. 

It was true, the longer he remained without much aside from the red-head hand’s attempting to slow his bleeding, the weaker he was becoming. Dewey blinked hazily, feeling himself hovering on the verge of passing out again. This wasn’t good. He had no way to communicate the necessary information-- Wait. His badge! Fingers fumbled as they dipped into his breast pocket, attempting to unfasten the clip that attached his badge to his shirt. It was tricky with the slippery traction of his fingertips, but he finally managed to pull out the laminated card and tap her thigh with it urgently. There. Hopefully that would be enough, because… he wasn’t sure how much longer he could remain… awake…

Layla looked down to Dewey with a slight, but weary smile on her face, “Carrington’s coming. Hang in there. Help’s going to be here soon.” She was just about to put the phone down and focus on keeping pressure on the wound, when she heard it ring. Seeing the name on the screen pop up, she figured she’d better answer it, “H-Hello? Is this Carrington?” She waited for a voice, panic slightly suppressed, but still apparent. However, the man laying on the ground had gotten her attention once more. Holding the phone between her shoulder and ear, Layla took the badge from him and looked it over, “Dewey. Dewey, why does that name sound so familiar?” She narrowed her eyes, and then it hit her! “Dr. Butthole! You’re the male Dr. Butthole!” She had forgotten about Carrington being on the other end of the phone, and when she saw that he was fading, everything else went by the wayside, including the phone that was now on the ground still connected, “Oh no! No, no!” Putting her other hand back over his neck, she leaned forward with more pressure, “Stay with me Dr. But- Dewey. Do you hear me? You’re not going anywhere! Your girlfriend will be here soon! I hope…” 

When the call connected, the voice that came through wasn’t Deweys. Carrington frowned. That never boded well. The woman’s voice was slightly panicked, but she knew his name, so Dewey must’ve been able to ask her to call. Or text in this case. “Yes, this is Carrington. Is Dewey alright?” he asked with no preamble. The woman seemed to be speaking to someone - Carrington could only assume it was Dewey - before she confirmed it. “What’s happened?” Carrington asked, trying to keep his own voice calm over the panic that threatened to rise again from the other end of the call. 

There was a huge rush of garbled sound and then the woman’s voice came again, but further away. She’d dropped the phone. “Hello?” he called, making a turn towards the phone's signal. “Hello?!” Something was going terribly, horribly wrong. When the phone wasn’t picked up again, Carrington cursed and put his foot on the gas. 

It felt like forever, even though it had to be less than ten minutes since the text had come in (Carrington was certain he would be getting a ticket for running more than one red light, but he couldn’t care less), but eventually Carrington found the source of the phones signal. He came to a screeching halt and exited the car without turning it off. The scene was… horrific. “What’s happened?” Carrington asked the girl, kneeling down next to her and making sure Dewey saw him. He took a moment to touch his face even as he pressed his far larger hand over the bleeding wound in Deweys neck. “It’s alright, darling.” 

He turned to the girl. “There’s a green bag in the boot of my car. Would you be so kind as to fetch it for me?”

The hospital, Dewey wanted to rasp out, We’re at the hospital. His lips barely shifted even then, however, the strength slowly being sapped out from him. Though the urge to fade back into nothingness, to slip back into the dark well of unconsciousness was incredibly tempting, hearing Carrington’s voice on the discarded phone, even faintly, managed to bring him back enough to hold onto the small shred of willpower he had left. If it weren’t for that, and the young lady still talking to him, still managing to keep his withering attention, he likely would have gone completely under again. 

As it was, Dewey didn’t even register a car approaching; only when Carrington was in his view did he feel a sense of relief flood through him. Oh, thank God. And he hadn’t thanked him in quite some time, but now seemed rather appropriate all the same. The brunette clenched his jaw, lips parted and moving even as no sound issued forth yet again. Although his chest gave a sudden jerk and, without warning, dark crimson spilled past his mouth, dripping copiously down his jaw. Though he whimpered in silence, stained fingers scrambled to grasp onto Carrington’s arm, body shuddering as sobs wracked his thin frame. Was he going to die like this? Bleeding out in the vicinity of a place where he had tried to save so many lives and yet, failed to preserve his own?

Dewey didn’t want to give way to weeping, but, the culmination of it all - the helplessness, the confusion, frustration - he felt broken and weak, even in the arms of someone who had seen him at one of his lowest points. Right now, he wasn’t sure if he could sink any lower besides death. But despite all of the moaning about his lot in life, he very much didn’t want to die. Not yet. Not here. Not when there was so much to do and say, and he couldn’t do or say anything now, and… A trembling hand covered over the one Carrington had clasped against his wound, gaze hazy but attempting to focus on his; apologetic, pleading. 

Layla continued to put pressure on the wound, but the headlights of a car gave way to an overwhelming sense of relief. This had to have been Carrington, and even if it wasn’t, maybe they could help her. Help Dewey. Save Dewey. However, at the sound of a man’s voice, Layla’s heart sank. This wasn’t Carrington. Or was it? Before she could answer his question as he settled in next to her, she heard him call Dewey ‘darling’. A wave of emotion swept over her body, and tears seemed to flow freely. Carrington had come, and he would be with his love.

“I found him like this. He was just laying on the ground, when I was on my way home. Please help him.” Tears ran down her cheeks as she finally was able to release her hands from his neck. The request from Carrington came in the form of a blessing to give Layla a bit of a break from all the blood and potential death looming on the horizon, “I’ll get it. I’ll be quick.” And with that she was on her feet and moving towards the car.

As she reached the back and managed to get the trunk open, Layla’s eyes searched for the bag. But before she grabbed it, she had to at least take a breath. She knew she couldn’t wait that long, but when she was able to at least hold in one solid breath and release it, the redhead found herself, bag in hand, moving back to the scene of the crime, “Here you go.” Holding out the bag with bloodied hands, she let her eyes fall back on Dewey praying he would survive.

Whoever or whatever had done this had either known exactly what they were doing. Or they’d gotten lucky. Which narrowed the list to a handful of suspects. Thankfully, the parking lot was otherwise empty. The wound shouldn’t be fatal - thank Christ and all the fucking Saints - but if Dewey lost enough blood it could put him in a coma. Of sorts. “Try not to talk,” he said gently, gripping the hand Dewey latched onto his arm with. He gave it a (hopefully) reassuring squeeze, despite the internal panic he was keeping a tight lid on. When Dewey gripped Carrington’s other hand, the blondes eyes found his. What he saw there, despite the lack of words, would’ve taken away Carrington’s breath, if he had any to give. He spared a long moment to share that look with Dewey, before slowly nodding. ‘I know…’ it said. ‘Me too…’

But Carrington had to turn his focus elsewhere after that. To the girl next to them. She was barely older than a child. “He’ll be alright, I promise,” Carrington told her gently. “You did an excellent job.” She moved off to fetch the bag, and Carrington took that moment to further assess the situation. It… wasn’t ideal. But best to focus on what needed doing now. “Thank you.” He gave the girl - a wolf as far as her scent told him - a nod, and pulled a large pressure dressing from the bag before telling Dewey what he was doing. He wiped as much blood away from the other mans skin as possible before applying the dressing, making sure it was firmly attached before daring to let go. It held, but Carrington put a hand back over it just in case, but also to try and alleviate some of Dewey’s fear. 

He glanced at the girl again. “I know you’re a wolf. I’m something too. So is he. So I need you to take a breath, alright? It’s all going to be fine.” He turned back to Dewey. “Can you stand? We need to get you out of here.”

Dewey immediately grimaced at the mention of talking, already feeling a knot form in his gut. Oh, there wouldn’t be much issue with that suggestion. Still, in spite of all the worry, Carrington’s presence alone was enough to assuage the worst of his anxiety. He remained completely imobile as the vampire set about wrapping him up, with all the delicate skill of someone who had obviously done this before. The fact that he had these sort of dressings in his car spoke volumes about what the other was prepared for. He was so intensely thankful for that, but more thankful for the blonde who seemed to know through one look his worst fear and without words, lay them to rest. 

When the dressing had been firmly applied, Dewey hesitated before nodding, careful not to move his head about too much. He planted both hands beside him and made an attempt to push his upper body forward, when a dizziness overwhelmed him. He collapsed back onto the ground, hissing inward and panting heavily. Shit. He felt so damned weak. Gaze focused back on Carrington, and he slowly shook his head before mouthing ‘I’m sorry’. 

Layla continued to stay back. She didn’t want to get in the way of Dewey getting the care that he needed. In fact, she had backed up to the point of being able to rest on the car. Tonight had been a lot. She hadn’t expected to come across anyone in this condition, let alone it be another creature. But she was just grateful she had been there to help. That hunter training had really paid off. They didn’t need to know that though. Nobody had really needed to know that except the people she had been staying with.

Glancing down at the dried blood on her hands, she began rubbing at it trying to get it off, and before long, she was trying to rub it on her pants. She didn’t want so much blood on her. It had reminded her of things her parents forced her to do when she was younger. And while the situation was completely different, it had still sent her to a place she didn’t want to be. Which begged the question, did they even still need her around?

“Look, not to just run off, but I probably need to get home. It’s getting late and…” She bit her bottom lip nervously, “I don’t really know either of you. So, like, do you need me for anything else, because, if not, I’m just gonna go…” She looked between them both. She knew Dewey was still in a bad way, but she had hoped they could manage without her. She needed to get the blood off. Needed to put on Frankie’s hoodie, find a dark corner to curl up in, and just be alone.

Carrington was immensely grateful that Dewey trusted him enough not to panic. That would likely do more harm than good, and Carrington didn’t relish the idea of having to force Dewey to do anything, even if it was for his own good. So when he lay still, Carrington worked quickly, trying to keep his own fear locked down tight. There was also the issue of the girl that was still standing nearby. She couldn’t be older than twenty, give or take. But she’d done a good thing by stopping to help. A brave thing as well, considering Dewey’s state. He would have to remember to thank her. Though it would likely fall far short of repaying what she’d done. 

But that would come later. Right now he had to get Dewey out of here. He would carry him to the car if he had to, but if he could walk, that would be better all around. But it wasn’t better. If anything, it made things worse. “Alright… lie back…” Carrington said gently, taking Dewey’s hand as he practically slumped back to the ground. He was so weak. He needed… something to hold him over until they got back to Carrington’s. The hospital was right there. If Carrington could get into the blood bank, maybe- 

The girl’s voice caught his attention, and Carrington blinked out of his thoughts. He turned towards her, still holding Dewey’s hand. She looked terrified. And rightly so. Carrington’s heart went out to her, it truly did, and the thought of asking her for anything else after all she’d done, after all she’d been through in the last half an hour… it almost seemed… not selfish - he would never call anything to do with Dewey’s well-being selfish - but perhaps it was almost too much. But he would ask anyway. “I’m Carrington. This is Dewey.” He gave the other man’s hand a squeeze. “You know that already. I’m a carpenter. He’s a doctor. He works just there-” Carrington gestured. “- at the hospital. He helps people. Saves lives. He’s… kind, and good, and selfless.” 

Carrington swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I know I have no right to ask it of you, but… he needs blood. Not… like a human would. But… he needs to drink it. To heal.” Carrington let that fact sink in for a moment. “I have bloodpacks back at my home, but he’s very, very weak. He’s needs something before I dare move him. I would give him mine without question, except it won’t help him.” The vampire looked at the young girl, covered in blood, scared to death, halfway to bolting for home, and hoped he might one day be forgiven for what he said next. “But… yours would.”

Dewey hated this. Hated feeling so weak and vulnerable, so near a place where others defended on him to be the exact opposite. Hated himself for allowing this to happen in the first place. That he had put such a large and unnecessary burden on a young lady who didn’t deserve it, who had been freely compassionate to him, and who deserved nothing more than to be rid of the night and it’s accompanying memories. He couldn’t even begin to list how he hated himself for bringing all of this on Carrington’s shoulders. The last person he ever wanted to incite such worry in. No matter how good the elder was at concealing it, he just… he knew, it was there, threatening to rise from beneath the surface. He just knew it.

Hearing the red-head’s voice pipe up, he tilted his head back and attempted to offer her a small smile; grateful, intensely so. He would have to seek her out later on in order to properly thank her, however any means of doing so felt that it would pale in comparison to all that she had done for him tonight. He had been expecting Carrington to send her off - but when he began expanding upon Dewey’s weakness, an immediate dread filled him from head to toe, and the hand connected to Carrington’s gripped it as tightly as possible. 

No, no he couldn’t dare ask that of her, not after all of this-- It wasn’t fair. Dewey shook his head weakly, gaze imploring the blonde to do something, anything other than put her through more potential trauma. Yet and still, the rational part of his mind had already wrapped around the solution and declared it sound. She obviously wasn’t human, he could smell that quite clearly - likely a shifter. Likely a werewolf. Taste aside, a few steady gulps would allow him to stand and make it to Carrington’s car, at the very least stay conscious until they could set him up with the proper nourishment at home. 

He loathed the request, truly and fully, but… Damn it all, what else could he have done?

Layla continued to try and rub the stains from her hands harder into the rough material of her jeans. Why won’t this shit come off? Her heart was beating a little harder by now and the adrenaline rush she had felt earlier in the evening was starting to disappear and turn into nothing, but anxiety, “Um…” She listened as Carrington explained who they were and how she had been of service and how grateful they both were. Her eyes darted nervously back and forth from one vampire to the other. It wasn’t that it was a threatening situation, and surprisedly, Layla hadn’t been quite as skittish as she normally was. She was holding it together. Her inner animal maintained composure as she became more familiar with her surroundings and what people were capable of here.

It was the request. The request to let Dewey drink her blood that made her stand upright and no longer let the car support her weight. She bit into her bottom lip harder. The feeling of at least a little bit of fang sprouting as her nerves and anxiety seemed to continue to flourish, until her lip bled, and she could taste the metallic seeping into her mouth. Vampires could smell blood right? They could probably smell that, just like she could smell them. But what choice did she have? She couldn’t let this man die. A doctor, of all people. Someone who made it his mission to save lives. Someone who represented everything she ever fought for when she would get into ridiculously heated arguments with her parents about the ethics of letting another creature die, because of the threat her hunter parents assumed the animal, no, person was.

Her breathing heavy, she forced back the lump of dread and emotion in her throat. If she was going to do it, she was going to do it now. Her voice meek, she replied, “O-Okay…” Kneeling down beside Dewey once more, she pulled back her sleeve, and held out her wrist, palm up, so he had good access to her veins and the warm blood pulsing through her small, fair skinned form.

Carrington knew Dewey wouldn’t like it. He knew he would likely protest. And if Carrington knew of any other way to give Dewey the momentary edge he needed in order to be transferred safely, he would do it in a heartbeat. But so much could go wrong, even for an immortal. He could only hope that Dewey wouldn’t hate him once he was recovered, and that the girl - Christ, he didn’t even know her name yet - wouldn’t think them both monsters. Or wouldn’t think Dewey one, since he deserved nothing of the sort. 

He turned to look at the other man when Dewey squeezed his hand. Carrington’s expression softened as Dewey shook his head. “I know… and I’m sorry. But if you fall unconscious again…” Carrington pushed a bit of bloody hair off Dewey’s brow. “Let her decide? Please?” 

When he was able to turn back to the young woman - who’s attempts to wipe the blood off her hands hadn’t gone unnoticed - Carrington waited as patiently as possible for her to decide what to do. For in the end, it was up to her. If she refused… Carrington would have to take his chances and get Dewey home as soon as possible. But she didn’t. And perhaps it was wrong of him to try and tug on the young woman’s heartstrings a bit, but every word he said was true. He didn’t lie. Especially about something like this. “Neither of us will harm you, I swear it.” 

Carrington held Dewey’s hand as the girl freely offered out her wrist for him to drink from. He even helped Dewey sit up a bit to make things easier on them both, glancing around to make sure there was no one in the vicinity. But when Dewey signaled he wouldn’t be able to manage any sort of effective bite, Carrington nodded. He turned to the girl again. “He’s too weak. He won’t be able to pierce the skin effectively.” There was a small pause. “Would you... allow me to do so?” He gestured gently towards her wrist. “And then let him drink? Two or three small sips should do.”

Shame was an emotion Dewey had waltzed with fairly often, shouldering it like a familiar cloak and spending a majority of his time accepting that he deserved to feel as though his very existence itself was something entirely wrong. That he hadn’t died back in the early 1900’s was some sort of mockery to God or whoever happened to be calling the shots up there beyond the atmosphere and beyond. What right did he have to be alive, when so many had perished? He’d gotten either incredibly lucky, or was being punished for the varying sins he’d committed as a human. He was never sure which it was; he had dwelt on the subject long enough to come up with at least twelve different answers. None of them were satisfactory. They never were.

His throat was already laced with the faint burn of thirst, so despicably familiar, and it only increased in severity the longer he went without feeding. Carrington’s gaze felt like the sole anchor he had in the swimming haze of disorientation, hunger and shame - heavy, thick, penetrating shame, so solid that he could beat against it and scream soundlessly, until his fists bled and his voice was raw. This wasn’t right. He was a doctor, for Christ’s sake. Vampirism be damned, he was supposed to… He wasn’t supposed to…

The urge to sob again consumed Dewey, but he somehow managed to roughly shove it down into the depths of his chest where it settled uncomfortably. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. It hardly ever did. When the young girl gradually offered up her wrist, he could have melted ice with the pitiful, apologetic frown he gave her, hoping it conveyed what he couldn’t properly in words. When Carrington bit into her wrist, he didn’t turn away - he knew all of them wanted this over as quickly as possible. The moment he saw the blood flow, he delicately clasped his mouth onto the wound, taking slow, careful swallows. 

True to her nature, the blood had a… decidedly canine tinge, not at all appealing to his taste buds, but that was readily pushed aside. It was working to soothe the burn and flower in his chest, warm and hearty like a broth to someone ailing. A few gulps, then he released her wrist, but not before giving her palm a firm but gentle squeeze, red-stained lips mouthing ‘Thank you’ before he let go entirely. Already, he was beginning to use his emerging strength to search for the gauze Carrington had used, wanting to dress up her wound before sending her off. It was the very least he could do, after all. 

It wasn’t that Layla was ashamed for saving Dewey’s life. Somewhere deep inside, she was proud of herself for not running away. She had already been through enough in just the past year that she would have rather hid under something dark enough to never be seen again by anyone out of fear of what life and its consequences had held. And now, she could add the title of blood donor to her list. What would Ari say? Would she scold her for saving a vampire’s life? How would her parents feel? In fact, it was probably good they had come to mind, because, now, in some way she was doing this to spite them. Saving the life of something they would have quickly put out of its misery. But it still didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid. And as she felt the pierce of fangs bury themselves into her soft, flesh, Layla let out a slight whimper.

Mind shifting and eyes growing heavy, she slowly looked over towards Dewey now that her wrist was his for the taking. Carrington’s initial impact was as gentle as you could be when biting into flesh, but the feeling of the other man draining her left her in a sort of haze. Vulnerability was at its finest, and if they had both wanted to finish her off they could. It was as if time was moving at a much slower rate and a certain euphoria was setting in. No, what he had taken from her wasn’t life threatening, but it had been enough for her to notice, so when it was all over and the fangs were pulled from her skin, it took Layla a moment to readjust to her surroundings.

Looking from Dewey to Carrington, eyes still somewhat clouded over and a certain air of innocence apparent on the teenager’s face, she spoke, “Is it done?” It wasn’t like anything she had experienced. Much faster than giving blood at a doctor’s office it seemed, and it was more personal. A connection she would hold, unspeakably, between the two men she had just helped.

Carrington was certain there would be a discussion about this evening at some point in the future. How could there not be? Especially since he knew Dewey’s feelings about feeding from others well enough by now. But that was a consequence Carrington was willing to accept if it kept Dewey safe. As was the consequence of potentially frightening a young woman beyond what was reasonable or fair. Consequences aside, as hard decisions went, this choice was an easy one. He wouldn’t let Dewey come to any lasting harm. 

So when the young woman agreed, Carrington  gave her a solemn nod, and a look of gratefulness, before gently taking her wrist and biting into it as gently and efficiently as possible. He didn’t take a single drop for himself, past what he couldn’t help but taste when his fangs broke the skin. Though her whimper of pain tore at his heart, despite not even knowing her name. Best to get it over with as quickly as they could then. 

Dewey only took the bare minimum himself, Carrington never taking his hand from the other man’s arm. A point of contact for him to focus on. The smell of blood was rich and thick in the air, and as Carrington watched the young girl’s eyes glaze over, he knew she’d placed far more trust in them than most people would have. Perhaps that was naivety, or perhaps it was something else, such as simply having a good heart, despite the very real danger the two vampires could potentially be. But Carrington didn’t care about the blood. It wasn’t to his taste, if one wanted to be completely basic about it. 

He watched the strength slowly return to Dewey’s form, and when he had taken the bare minimum he needed, Carrington helped him sit up this time. He almost protested Dewey wanting to bind the girl’s wrist - Carrington was more than capable - but decided against it. He’d had too many things taken out of his control this evening. So Carrington handed him the gauze before turning to meet the young woman’s eyes. She was coming around it seemed, which was good. Carrington touched her arm gently. “Yes, dear. It’s done. Are you alright?” His concern was clear in his expression. 

Layla felt lightheaded. Almost like she wanted to lose anything she had consumed earlier in the day, but she’d live. Thank God, she’d live. Looking from Dewey to Carrington, she spoke, “Uh, yeah...Just dizzy.” She noticed how much the blood had helped the man laying on the ground, and it gave her some relief knowing she had helped him more than she initially thought she could, “Your friend, is he okay? Will he be okay?” She looked back to Carrington. Would they need her help after this? Would she have to help pick him up? So many questions that seem to matter now knowing she could trust them after she had allowed Dewey to drink.

Slowly crawling over to the car, she used it as leverage to get up. Once she was on her feet, Layla rested her hands on the vehicle to steady herself. It wasn’t enough to do any harm, but the teenager had never been good when it came to giving blood. In fact, the only time she ever donated to the Red Cross, she had nearly passed out, “It’s a good thing I became a werewolf and not a vampire.” With a haze hanging over her, she turned around one foot at a time to look at the two creatures on the ground, “Now, can I go?”

Her wrist dutifully bandaged by Dewey, Carrington looked the girl over with a concerned, experienced eye. She looked a bit peaked, and a fair bit shaken and uncertain, but as these things went, it could’ve been a lot worse. “That’ll pass. You need fluids and rest. No alcohol if possible.” Carrington looked to Dewey, who still looked weak and paler than usual, but who was awake and sitting up on his own. He gave his shoulder a small squeeze before turning his attention to their young companion. “Yes, he’ll be alright now. Thanks to you.” 

Slowly, Carrington rose to his feet and stepped towards her. He gave a soft laugh and a gentle smile at her comment. “The tenacity and bravery of wolves is unmatched in our world.” Carrington didn’t have to look at Dewey to know the other vampire would agree with what he said next. “You have our eternal gratitude, my lady wolf. And I am in your debt. We both are. If there’s anything you ever need, just ask.” Out of life-long habit, Carrington gave her a tiny bow of his head when she asked if she could go. “Of course. Though… would you prefer a ride home instead? I’ve room for another,” he said, gesturing to the still idling vehicle. “It’s not safe out here, after all.” 

~

[lesbicattiva]

araki’s interview at luccacomics&games 2019 part two.

loose & imperfect transcript / translation of araki first interview (30th oct 2PM) at lucca comics & games 2019 at teatro del giglio about his main work: jojo’s bizarre adventures. (talk show translated from italian to english 2/5).

A: Good evening. Q: Good evening. Since we’re here to talk about it, I’d like to ask: how was JOJO’s Bizarre Adventure born? A: [ignores the question just to properly repeat ‘good evening’ again and then point at cosplayers] I think I recognize that character! Maybe I saw it on japanese tv! Q: [stammers] Uh.... my question? A: Oh right [laughs]. The idea of JOJO came because I wanted to draw characters with superpowers that can’t be seen. I wanted to draw that and shape those powers on paper. I did it on shōnen jump, where I debuted, and just tried to pick a name that could be easily remembered, something like with a double J and a double O.

Q: Continuing with the foundations of JOJO, as I was saying earlier, there’s a common theme in this year’s lucca comics and JOJO; the focus on ‘humanity’, its tight bond with ‘fate’ and the ‘immortality of the human spirit’. I’d like to know why these themes have been chosen and why you like them so much. A: Actually, it’s because I’ve been told to draw something like this, and so I did it [editor of JOJO laughs]. But only after drawing it I realized that “wow, I drew something really interesting!” a theme so deep such as ‘admiration for human beings’ and so on. It’s really a serious thing [him, the translator and the two editors laugh] but yeah, I only realized it later because at first I’d just been told to draw [head-editor of ultra jump speaks to araki and he nods]. Well, yes, actually this was the short version of the story, the longer one is that I actually wanted to draw the theme of the ‘affirmation of humans’, of ‘not rejecting your humanity’. And because of this there are ‘good’ characters, which are obviously appreciated, but even ‘evil’ characters have something that can be appreciated since they are human beings. And this was more or less the idea for JOJO’s theme. I gave a bit of a superficial answer at first but now it’s a good answer, isn’t it? [everyone laughs]

Q: Let’s remain on the theme of fate, of destiny, of how we humans are destined, or damned, if you will, to follow a certain path. In JOJO there isn't just the protagonists’ family, which moves from location to location, but there’s also another family.... the Zeppeli [audience laughs]. It’s good to see you guys taking it that way because they really.... don’t. Since, as you can hear, I’m from Napoli, I’m rather curious if their fate will always be the same or if they’ll be able to take control of it someday. A: I don’t mean to ‘persecute’ them, but they are complementary to the Joestar family. Them ending up dying serves to complete the flow of the story and to facilitate the path of the Joestars. Q: But do you see a possibility for them in the future.... I really care about them, you see. A: I’m glad that you’re a big fan of the Zeppeli as I am. But I think that the beauty of their family is in the very fact that, yes they will die, but they will also pass on those values and positive qualities through their deaths. The very act of dying for them allows that. Don’t you think too? Q: Yes. I too.... can’t wait to die. [audience laughs and so does araki, but he’s still a little concerned]

Q: In JOJO, compared to other mangas where characters fight, you made a precise choice; that is, the absence of a direct clash. You opted for a more studied, strategic way of fighting, almost like a chess match. And the cornerstones of that are stands. How do you manage to always find new powers and tactics? A: Having new ideas is my job. I get inspired by many things, especially during my everyday life: when I meet my friends or I see them do particular gestures, when I talk with my old neighbour or when I drink a glass of water and some gets stuck in my throat; then I think “hey! I could make a stand power out of that!”. Basically, I think observing little details is essential to my creative process.

Q: Many of the stories of JOJO are real travel diaries, since a huge variety of settings is present. How much the setting influences the writing and how fundamental is it? Do you start from there to create the story or is it just a plus?  A: I was very inspired by the small trips I did when young. As a kid I would bike to various places, I’d climb up mountains, go around other cities.... This travelling process helped me a lot in my growth – from kid to adult, so for me the philosophy of a journey is very important because it allows the characters who partake in it to evolve and become adults, from the beginning to the end of the journey. As for the other part of the question, thinking about the creative process of the manga for more contained locations.... For example, if you stopped to camp during a trip and encountered one of your fears, you would have to face it directly. But I asked myself what would happen if that fear, that enemy, is the one hiding instead; maybe even in the apartment next to you. From this idea the setting of Morio-cho was born, to have an invisible enemy, a peaceful person who just waits silently somewhere in the background. This has been a different challenge compared to what I previously tackled regarding the process of a journey.

Q: Speaking of Morio-cho, would you like to live in this town you created? A: Yes. I’ve answered your question right away because it’s based on the town where I grew up, near Sendai, it was full of weird people [audience laughs] – well, they were all good people but [laughs a bit] still some were weird. Q: I see. I’m sure there were some Zeppelis there as well.

Q: Again, speaking of the creative process, it’s common knowledge that you listen to a lot of music while working. It’s also an interesting concept, since rhythm is essential to storytelling. How much music, and what type, influences your work? A: What influences me the most is the rhythm, and you can probably see it in the onomatopoeias that I use, which can go like [makes an index gesture] ‘tan-tan-pa’. They are all different types of rhythms that I listen to while writing, this of course influences my creative process as well.

Q: Okay. This is my last question, then I’ll leave the rest to fans. What will the future of JOJO be? A: I don’t know [laughs]. (note: translator suggests he might know but doesn’t want to reveal anything) Actually, I had a good idea of the beginning and a relatively clear idea of the end, but everything else in between is like a jazz concert: it’s a very spontaneous and in the moment creative process. But yes, the ending is pretty definite to me.

F: Hi. As we were saying, you are often inspired by ordinary things: your travels, your childhood, music.... In Diamond Is Unbreakable there's a stand called Bad Company and I remember seeing something similar in a Stephen King's story. I'd like to know if you took inspiration from that and if you like horror movies in general, and if they influence you in any way. (note: people say this guy was rude) A: No, I didn't know there was a story like that. But yes, I do like Stephen King. I enjoyed The Twilight Zone and I'm definitely influenced by horror for my work but I prefer movies like Chucky or Child's Play. I really love horror movies though. 

F: Hi. I read online that the ending and opening songs for the anime are personally chosen by you. I'd like to know if there's an italian song that you like and maybe would use as an ending for the anime. A: An italian song? Mhh. I really like PFM. Was it Premiata? Premiata? [audience claps loudly and araki smiles] Premiata Forneria Marconi, that's it! I didn't decide it just now, I really do like it! [laughs] I also love Puccini's opera.

F: Hello. We know that clothes are one of the main characteristics of JOJO and that many are also inspired by famous brands, I'd like to know, then, what's the creative process behind the creation of those outfits. A: A thing that all of my clothes have in common is that they are comfortable and facilitate movement. In particular, for the protagonists, I always base myself on the model of a classic japanese student uniform, on which I then add other features, like ladybugs brooches or more fancy accessories. But the start is always the school uniform. When I was young I really liked “Babil Junior”, a manga where the protagonist wears a school uniform while in the desert. I found that truly beautiful and it inspired me a lot. To be able to draw these characters in school uniforms and have them go around desolate locations.... It really touched me and even made me cry a bit.

Q: While I search for the next person can I ask another quick question of my own? If you could choose your stand, what would it be? A: Judging by the weather here in Lucca, which has been pretty gloomy today, I’d say that I’d like the stand power of a ‘hare-otoko’ / 晴れ男 (lit. a man that brings good weather). In fact, forecasts said that it would rain a lot today, but since I’m here, thanks to me, there’s good weather [laughs]. (note: believe it or not, it always rains during lucca comics, but for the hours that araki was there, the weather was good. as soon as he finished his talk show, it started raining heavily. he really has a powerful stand.)

F: Hi. A straightforward question: since today's theme is ‘becoming human’ don't you think that Diavolo's punishment was a bit too much? (note: people say this guy was also rude) A: Oh, sorry, you don’t like his punishment? [laughs] I think he was such an evil character that he deserved to end like that. I’ve been told that his death was too harsh by japanese fans as well, however.... I think it was fitting for someone as evil as him. Sorry.

Q: Since time is almost up, allow me to ask the last questions. Is there a character that you think looks like you or just one that you can easily identify with? A: Rohan— [audience interrupts him by cheering loudly] NO NO NO [araki and the translator laugh]. I was saying that Rohan is who I aspire to be but it’s not who I am, sorry [araki and the translator laugh again]. There isn’t a character that I can really identify with but my favourite is Shigechi. [audience is kinda surprised] I like it when he collects the money that fell on the ground.

Q: Looking in hindsight at the work you’ve done on JOJO so far, is there any anecdotes that you’d like to share with us here today? A: I don’t know if it’s interesting but when I was writing for weekly shōnen jump the deadline was set to 19 pages of work each week. But every single time I just couldn’t limit myself to only 19 and always ended up doing 21. Like this, 2 pages were always going to be cut out. They wouldn’t even go in the next chapter because they were part of the current one and thus had to be cut out completely. Currently I’m very satisfied because I have 45 pages to work with in ultra jump. Although, actually, maybe now they’re a bit too many [everyone laughs].

Q: The last thing that I’ll ask you before saying goodbye is: if you could go back to the very first day in which you sat down at your desk and started working on JOJO, is there something that you would do differently? A: I would change the printing mistakes, for example ‘nani o suru da’ / 何をするだァーッ would often be written incorrectly as ‘nani o surun da’ / 何をするんだァーッ (where んだ got added) [laughs and jokingly blames the editor of JOJO, who takes responsibility. even though the editor wasn’t able to correct them at the time he still feels it was his responsibility nonetheless]. But yes, in the end, I would change little things like this, because in the first volumes there were many mistakes like this.

[nygmobblepot-trash]

Untitled Story (part 2 out of ???)

Buckle up for this boys and girls. Apparently I had a lot of pent up anger that I just let out in this chapter. By the time I got to end I was tearing up for some reason. :)

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

Strange watched tiredly as his monitors awoke from being asleep for weeks. He was constantly collecting data, reading and interpreting it was another story.

“You’re tracking the Tesseract’s energy?! That’s so smart, you can see every place he goes and for how long. You could make a map and try to figure out if there is a pattern.” Strange watched as Peter’s eyes lit up with an excitement he hadn’t seen or even felt for years. Without looking at the screen or keyboard Strange brought up the map Peter was talking about.

“Oh. Of course you already thought about doing that... sorry.” Peter then became visibly confused. “I-I don’t understand. Why would he still be in the same place? It’s been more than a week. According to your graphs he hasn’t been in more than one place longer than 3 days.”

“You’re must be reading it wrong or the machine is busted.” Strange turned back to the screen to make his own observations.

“No the boy is right. You would have missed your chance if we had not come here and dragged your sorry ass off that ugly floor. Where is the Ant Man? You said we would need him to get to Loki. We should not waste anymore time.” Now it was Thor’s turn to be excited. 

Strange spun his chair around to face Thor. “Don’t be stupid. This is obviously a trap. I know you are used to doing whatever the hell you want, but that is not going to happen while you are with me. I make the decisions here, not you. I will not allow you to make things worse, because you think you need to save that person. He’s not even your brother. He’s just an asshole from a different universe. Your Loki is dead. He is dead and he is never coming back. You cannot and will not use this one to replace what you have lost.” Stephen was not conscious of the words coming out of his mouth if he had been he would have stopped way sooner. When he finally realized what he had done he was standing face to face with the God with his finger placed on his chest.

‘Shit.’ He thought.

Peter stood up and started talking... too fast for Strange to even begin to understand. He was probably trying to talk Thor out of killing him.

Thor just stood there not saying a word. He only smiled. Stephen couldn’t see his eyes behind those stupid black sunglasses Thor wore to hide any emotion. When did he even put those on?

Suddenly Thor came to life and twisted Stephen’s shaking hand. He spoke still with a cruel smile,”Listen here, Wizard. I am not listening to person responsible for everyone who died during that purple bastards war path. You told me you keep a watch list of beings from other realms that might be a threat to this one. You said Loki was on that list and you knew the second he was on Earth. Do you honestly expect me to believe that Thanos was not on that list. You know the guy who made it know that he wanted to collect the infinity stones to kill half the universe. Loki told me there was a bigger threat. I did not listen, but Tony did and he constantly worried about it. Tony worked to fight him. What did you do? Huh!? Tell me Wizard!” With every word Thor and gripped Strange’s hand tighter and tighter then he began twisting it.

“Thor stop, you’re going to break his hand!” Peter desperately pleaded with the God. Strange didn’t think Thor could even hear the boy anymore or even feel him as Peter tried his best to pry Thor away. 

Stephen tried to answer, but the pain was too great. “...I-I.”

It became obvious Thor was not going to release his hand until he received an answer so Stephen tried again with a sharp inhale. “I didn’t think... h-he’d come... so... soon. I-I thought, I thought I had more time!” Strange yelled as the pain became too great.

“You didn’t see him coming?” Thor asked with a laugh. He let go of Stephen’s hand in favor of grabbing him by his outfit and slamming him into the wall. “You had the time stone. What do you mean that you couldn’t see him coming? So either you did not use the time stone to see future threats or you watched him kill those innocent Asgardians, my best friend, and Loki and thought that was perfectly alright because he hadn’t interfered with your precious Earth yet. Or even better you had watched the entire thing play out and only pretended to look at the possible futures for the first time with Peter and Tony.”

“...Yeah why did you wait so long to use the time stone?” Peter had stopped trying to help Strange. 

‘You’re fucked now. Why does he feel so strongly about Loki? If it had been him who died, I doubt Loki would even blink an eye let alone get revenge. He would hide and wait for someone else to take care of the issue. But that is besides the point. Why did you wait?’

‘Why?’

‘Why?’

‘Why?’

“If you could see every terrible thing out there in the world and all the horrible things they could do, knowing that you had no chance in beating them, you would lock the damn thing away, and try to forget the nightmares that would soon become reality. I knew of Thanos. I knew of the Hell he would bring. I also knew we stood no chance. I decided to deal with the more beatable ones until I could figure out what to do. I didn’t tell Stark, because I knew what he would drive himself mad trying to create an armor to save himself. There was no point. Speaking of people who knew. What about Odin? I’m sure the God of Gods knew of Thanos. Why didn’t he try to stop him?” Stephen added the final blow with a smile.

‘Stop digging this hole.’

Thor spoke softer than he had all day. “My father kept a lot of secrets. It seems like everything was a lie or a secret. I thought I knew him, but now I understand I know nothing. Hel Loki knew more than I do. As much as I want to throw you through this wall for insulting him, I cannot defend him. I’m sure he had his reasons, but I do not know what they were. Maybe he was a coward like you or wanted to avoid the conflict for as long as possible. Odin is dead, but you and I are not. We must atone for our mistakes. I regret most of my past and I will do my best so that my future will not have the same fate. You on the other hand want someone to tell you that you did a wonderful job and that you made the right choices. You want someone to take those deaths off your conscience. I will not be that person, Strange. You have to live with your mistakes like everyone else. I hope eventually you will be able to live with yourself again. All the other Avengers are doing that. Quill and the Guardians were able to being Gamora back into their family. Steve lived the life he should have had in the first place. Clint has his family back. Bruce has made peace with the Hulk. Natasha, Tony, and I have not got our happy endings. You took that away. I’m going to make sure it happens and it is not selfish to do so. I do not need you, so if you are going to continue to stand in my way we can settle this here and now.” 

“I’m trying to fix my mistakes Thor. I am afraid to make more. I do not want you to make anymore either. As much as I want everyone to have a good ending, life is never so kind to allow it. There are consequences for everything we do. I do not see how you will be able to achieve all of this without making the universe suffer. I do not want to be the bad guy, but if I have to fight you to make sure the universe does not suffer I will. In one of the futures I saw you bear the gauntlet. What you wanted collapsed the universe. Please listen to reason Thor.”

“Alright then, you made your choice.” Thor said devoid of any emotion.

As Thor released one of his hands to summon Stormbreaker, Peter grabbed Thor’s arm and yelled, “H-Hey! Calm down both of you, please! Killing each other will only make things worse. You both have good points so can’t we compromise?”

“No.” Both men answered in unison not breaking eye contact.

“No shut up! You’re both Avengers why are you fighting each other?”

“As I recall the first time you met the Avengers they were fighting each other.” Stephen was quick to add.

“That’s not fair first of all. Second of all... Thor do you think Natasha or Tony would want you to do this?” Peter’s muffled voice came out from under Thor’s arm as he was still holding on for what seemed like dear life.

“Tony started that fight because Steve wanted to protect the man who killed his parents. I think Tony would be happy if I killed the man responsible for taking him away from his family.” Thor’s voice started to break. “Loki would be angry that it was me who bested the Wizard instead of him.” A sad smile came to Thor’s lips. Strange swear he could see tears start to build up behind the sunglasses. “Heimdall would tell me that I am acting like a spoiled child rather than a wise king.”

“Wait whose Heimdall?” Peter asked lifting his face above Thor’s arm.

“Natasha...” Thor now struggled to get his words out. “Natasha would tell me it is okay and to not worry about her. She would not approve of this either. Strange I will figure out a way to bring them back without damning this universe to Hel. They did not give up on us so we cannot give up on them. I will help you fix what Loki has done, but I ask you to allow me to do something good. You do not have to help me, but please do not stand in my way.”

“I suppose we can work together until what Loki has caused is fixed. After that we’ll see if we can agree on what to do next.” Strange slowly raised his unbroken hand. “Deal?”

Instead of shaking his hand, Thor dropped Strange without another word and slowly lowered the arm that Peter clung to. 

“I guess I’ll take that as a yes.” Strange sighed.

“Thank God.” Peter released the breath and stressed he didn’t know he had been holding and collapsed on the floor next to Stephen. 

“Why do you guys only call me when you’re trying to kill each other?” A familiar voice whined on the other side of the room.

Scott and Peter looked up to see Scott looking annoyed. Thor still hadn’t moved since he set Peter down. 

Scott waved his coffee around as he talked. “How come no one says, ‘Hi Scott we are going out for Tacos and we want you to come because you’re apart of the time and we like you. It’s kind of our fault that your under house arrest and all so we’d like to make it up to you.’ Don’t get me wrong I would do anything for Ste- I mean Cap. He said I could call him that. Because we are good friends and- hey is he okay?” Scott finally noticed Thor and how he still hadn’t moved. “How you doing Buddy?” Scott asked Thor like he was talking to a 3 year old and started to reach his hand out to pat Thor on the back to Peter’s horror. 

“Scott, you’re here to set up the universe travel thing for Strange... remember? Can you show me how it works?” Peter jumped up and pulled Scott away before he could make contact with the unpredictable mess Thor currently was. He didn’t want to leave Thor and Strange alone together, but leaving Scott in the room would only guarantee a fight. 

“...I guess I could.” Scott slowly made his way past Thor and to the other room where his equipment was. Before he was completely out of the room he glanced back at Thor. “I definitely need to know what is going on with that though. He’s freaking me out.”

“Yeah he’s scaring everyone today, it’s okay.” Peter shoved Scott forward out of the room. “Please behave you guys.” Peter added as he left.

Stephen directed his attention to Thor. “Are you broken or what?” When he didn’t get a response he decided it would be a good idea to throw a loose screw at Thor’s head. 

Throw grabbed his glasses and broke them. He then threw them at Stephen. “I was trying to calm myself. Bruce taught me some breathing techniques to use when I get angry. I told him of course that it was stupid and I would never use it. But now I see the point. He must use it to stop ripping people like you to shreds.” He stretched his hand out to Strange.

“You’d lose.” Strange said standing without Thor’s help.

“I’d never lose to a coward.” Thor smiled and without another word left to join Scott and Peter, leaving Strange and his broken hand alone.

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

“-need to test it. I tested it last time, so I’m not doing it this time.” Scott stopped when he realized Thor had joined them. “Hey Thor you look like you’re not scared of death why don’t you test this.”

“Scott-” Peter was in the process of telling Scott of how much of a bad idea that was when Thor interrupted.

“Alright.”

“Awesome, go get your suit on and we’ll see if I hooked this thing up correctly, sound good, big buy?” Scott ran over and grabbed Thor’s suit.

As Peter heard Thor pass Strange on his way to change he heard them say some incredibly not so nice things to each other. “This is a bad idea and we should stop now.” Peter whined as he brought his hands to his face.

“It’s too late for that.” Strange yelled from the other room.

Eventually Thor came back into the room. “Alright just stand on that pad and give me a second. I need to figure out where to send you where you won’t cause damage.

Strange laughed from somewhere else in the Sanctum.

“How about...” Thor proceeded to give a very specific time.

“Why that one?” Scott asked.

“Why not?” Thor shrugged.

“Okay obviously we shouldn’t do that one.” Peter told Scott.

“What’s the worse he could do in a few seconds? It may not even work.” 

“Scott no.” Peter pleaded.

Thor smiled sweetly.

“Aw look it that face. I trust him. You got it Buddy!” Scott quickly typed in the coordinates and time and pushed the go button before Peter could stop him.

“Scott!” Peter yelled.

“Dude i’m going to listen to a God over you. Strange may have a death wish, but I do not.”

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

Thor once again felt the familiar pull of being ripped from his current point in time to one that had already unfolded. 10 seconds ago Thor was sure he wanted to do this. Now he wasn’t so sure as he felt his feet hit solid ground again. He didn’t dare open his eyes. He knew the irony of his actions. He had been yelling at Strange all day for being a coward and now he couldn’t open his eyes and witness his nightmare yet again. He couldn’t change anything in the nightmare, but now he could. He just needed to open his eyes and rip off the return switch off his suit.

“Dread it. Run from it. Destiny arrives all the same.” A voice pierced through Thor’s thoughts. Normally those words would be the last thing he would before he woke drenched in sweat and tears. These words would wake him up again, but instead of seeing his tv displaying a game he fell asleep during he saw a ship on fire and some rubble. 

Thor slowly stood until he could see over the rubble. He had to know. Loki threw his life away to save his. Something had to have happened that Thor missed. It happened when Thanos was giving his speech. 

Once over the rubble Thor could see that he was behind Thanos. Thanos did stand where Thor was moments ago before he dragged past Thor closer to his captive brother.

He looked past Thanos to his goons who were entranced by what their dipshit ruler was saying.

Thor remembered he didn’t have much time left and as searched for Loki he grabbed his return switch. He stopped when he realized Loki was staring right back him. Tears quickly fell from Thor’s tear ducts and made their way down his face.

He wanted to tell Loki not to worry because his big brother would protect him like he promised all those years ago. That everything would turn out okay this time. It was and still is a good idea for Loki to go to Earth.

He watched Loki’s expression change like he had a million times in his dreams. Loki then turned his head to Thanos.

Thor’s finger’s brushed up against his return switch as he felt himself be pulled away.

When he saw Strange, Peter, and Scott all arguing he screamed. “NO, I COULD HAVE SAVED HIM!”

“Thor what did you do?” Peter asked calmly as he could.

“Nothing. I could have if you just let me-” Thor dropped to the floor in defeat.

“No you could have screwed us all. We made a deal. You can’t pull crap like this anymore. I wondered what that time could be. Your lucky I figured it out and pulled you out when I did.” Strange scolded. He then turned to Scott.

“Hey sometimes the button sticks! I tried to pull him out sooner.” Scott threw his hands in the air.

“We know it works now. I would like to get this mission over as soon as possible, so everyone get ready.” Strange said as he walked out.

“Shouldn’t we get more people?” Peter asked when he realized Strange and Thor would kill each other if they went alone.

“You’re not going, kid?” Scott asked surprised.

Peter felt his stomach drop. “I-I...” The fights with Thanos and Beck popped into his head.

Scott quickly put his hand on Peter’s shoulder bring him back to reality. “Hey don’t worry about it. I need help watching and controlling everything anyways. I’m sure those two will be fine.” Scott smiled reassuringly.

Peter looked back at Thor who was still having a break down on the floor.

“I’ll go in there if things get ugly, okay?” Scott pat Peter on the head and walked over to Thor. “We’ll find a way Buddy. Just hold on a little longer.”

Thor cleared the tears from his face and nodded. “Thank you not currently tiny man.”

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

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 58:Hysteria Drive

Chapters: 58/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: none Relationships: Loki x Reader (There We Go) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor(Marvel), Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Stephen Strange Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Brains Are A Hell Of A Thing, Cultural Differences, Thor Isn’t Stupid Tho?, There’s A Bit Of A Spectrum Between Genius And Dumb

Summary:  Some things just never go away.

The world felt distant as your heavy breathing slowed, the adrenaline thudding in your ears. You withdrew your hand, so slowly, from pointing at Steve, who poked at his chest in bemusement.

“Huh. That was weird.” He said.

Then the babbling began. You couldn't apologize enough. You didn't know what you had been thinking, why you automatically assumed that the tiniest flash of light meant murder. The thing on the ground wasn't even a knife; it was a key, like the one you wore hanging from your chatelaine. He hadn't thrown it at you, he had tossed it to Mr. Rhodes, who wanted to go back to their rooms to retrieve something.

It had all been nothing. And you had reacted with possibly lethal force. If that had been a knife, it would have stuck right in his chest. It would not have killed him, you didn't think, but if it had been someone else...

Yes, if this whole situation had been different, but it wasn't, and you were panicking now with no way out, and the other trainees were surrounding the group of you, uncertainty on their faces, but weapons in their hands. They knew you, knew your association with Loki, but they also knew that these other human visitors had associations with their king.

Andsvarr broke ranks, removing his helmet and pushing past Steve, who barely reacted to stop him, and knelt beside you with Natasha.

“My Seidkona, what ails you?” He asked. “Do you need water? Do you need space? Do you need to be taken to a shaded area?”

“I just-I'm sorry, I didn't-I mean I should have known, but I thought-I just thought that-I'm sorry-” You gabbled. You needed all those things, but you couldn't make yourself say it.

“Can you stand?” He asked. “We can lead you away from here. We can take you back to your room for now.”

It sounded good. Andsvarr was trusted, and his even tone was more helpful than Natasha's, being much more familiar. Neither Steve, nor Mr. Rhodes had approached, which was probably for the best.

You stood at Andsvarr's gentle urging, unable to bring yourself to meet anybodies eyes.

“There, everything will be all right now.” He said, just as strong arms circled you from behind.

You screeched in terrified surprise, and drove your heel down on the top of your assailant's foot with all your might.

“Ah.” Loki's voice murmured in your ear, dryly amused. “I see we have been learning new things.”

The gibbering apologies resumed. You needed to be removed from the area. You were hurting people! Well, not actually hurting them; phenomenal luck had directed your violence against those you would have a very tough time actually causing harm to, but the fact remained that you had tried.

Loki lifted you up in his arms and carried you away from the sunny training yard, murmuring calming platitudes on the way. But you just kept seeing blood on the potato leaves, the way the mans body jerked, even after you had split his head open. Why now? Why were you remembering now?

You hadn't even buried him. You'd just taken all the potatoes home, and never gone back to that field. Just left him there, murdered in the dirt.

You were babbling about it, without realizing, bloody leaves dancing in your minds eye.

You would never get the chance to apologize.

“What is going on? Is she going to be all right?” Steve asked.

“You know exactly what this is. Do you pretend not to suffer in the same way?” Loki said in a clipped tone, then amended himself to a more gentle sound when you squirmed in discomfort in his arms. “It's alright my dear. You are sheltered now. None can reach you.” He jerked his head at the Avenger escort. “Go. She won't calm with so many eyes on her. Give us time.”

Bucky nodded and helped Natasha to shoo the others away.

Loki cradled you in his lap, rocking gently until you went quiet and still, and then he just waited.

“Think I'll be okay now.” You mumbled. He didn't let go, but he did loosen his grip to allow you more movement.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Loki asked. “Was there too much dust? I'll have the courtyard swept-”

“No, I thought there was a knife! I thought someone else was trying to kill me again.”

“Oh darling. Of course, who wouldn't be afraid of that? I think some of the armor I commissioned for you should be finished by now; shall I have it brought to you tonight?”

You nodded. “Yeah. That's not all though. I just...reacted. I used my magic to send it back, but it was just a key, and it was just Steve. It wasn't even a danger, but I was totally willing to hurt someone. Just ready to react with violence, and then I couldn't stop thinking about that guy I killed...I murdered a man, and I just left him there-”

“That was self defense, my dear, anyone-”

“I just left him there!” You cried, voice raising again. “I knew him, but I just left him on the ground and dug up potatoes! Like he was nothing! I just left him and took a bunch of food home, and didn't tell anyone! Just left him there for the coyotes.”

Loki was stroking your hair now, just letting you vent.

“I thought it was over, you know? When it all went back to the way it was, but I never got past it. I'm still so angry at him, and at myself. I knew I shouldn't have gone out there alone, but I did it anyway. But it's still with me, and it's coming out more; that willingness to get violent, to kill even. I tried to hurt Steve, I tried to hurt you. I'm just damn lucky the two of you are so resilient, but other people aren't so lucky. Am I going to get worse? Will I end up killing someone again?” You looked up into his face, but his gaze was distant. “Loki?”

“I...feel we differ in attitude about this subject, my dear.” He said softly. “Asgard was always at war. Even after Father ceased conquering, the realms that now depended upon us still had to be protected. I have lead armies, fought, and bled, and killed for Asgard and the safety of the realms. And for far less noble reasons as well. Violence is...normal. Even here, it is normal. There are countries at war on this world, right now, as I hold you. All you did, both then and now, was try to protect your own life against someone unfairly trying to harm you.”

“But Steve didn't try to hurt me! It was a mistake!”

“Of course he didn't. But that slime out in the country did, and that has stayed with you. How could it not? Humans may try to convince themselves that violence is primitive and beneath them, but you need it, if only to keep yourself safe. It seems the cultural dichotomy does not allow you to reach equilibrium with your nature and your noble ideals. But my dear, you have caused no tangible harm. No one was hurt. You were not hurt. Let your heart be calmed. You have done nothing wrong.”

It didn't help, not really. His voice soothed, and his touch warmed, but his words didn't settle the unease. He didn't seem to understand why this rising trend of violence within yourself troubled you, even though he had been victim to it before! You had used your magic then too, to strike him in the bath when...you thought he was going to attack you. But even then, you had allowed your anger to take you a step farther. You could have demanded to leave after you found out he had been messing with you. Instead, you punched him. You could have run away after you had knocked that man down in the potato garden. Instead, you had chopped him. And you could have done anything else with that key-that-was-not-a-knife. You could have teleported it across the field, or into your hand, or onto the ground. Instead, you had directed it at the throwers heart. Your temper was dangerous now; it had the power of magic behind it.

It must be a cultural difference. Asgard prized warriors, gloried in battle. Even Saldis could use a sword. Not well, by her own admission, but she could. And 'not well' by Asgardian standards, might mean something very different than 'not well' by your standards.

To Loki, to everyone around you, your occasional outbursts were normal. If you weren't careful, it might become normal to you too.

                                                                               *****

Steve spent a few extra minutes asking certain questions of various Asgardians before heading back to Thor and the others. By the time he returned, they were discussing Asgardian architecture, Thor regaling them with stories about what Asgard used to look like, and how they planned to incorporate classic Asgardian styles into stable, Icelandic buildings. It was surely an interesting conversation, but something had been bothering Steve for over half a year now. Something about you, something about the occasional thing you said, the way you reacted every now and then. Something that didn't add up. Or rather, something that added up too well with something it shouldn't.

Tony scooted to the side to make room for Steve, as Thor continued in his excited way about pressing mosaic into concrete, using glass and tile, rather than gems or other stones no longer available to them. They would each have a mural-he insisted-they were all part of Asgard's history now; Asgard's first official Midgardian allies.

There was a great honor in that, Steve knew. Asgard's unique, animated paintings were reserved for important events only. It didn't stay his tongue.

“Your Majesty, I have some questions regarding your...royal ward. And I'm gonna need you to play it straight with me this time.”

“Yes, of course.” Thor said, face open and innocent. He would stay that way, even as he lied to Steve's face, he knew that now. He would think it was impressive how Thor had duped them for all these years, but that would probably be narcissistic. The man was not human; he was centuries old, with godlike powers, though Steve was still not convinced he possessed true divinity. He was a prince as well, and Asgard seemed to take the whole 'divine right of kings' thing pretty literally. Thor would have been schooled in diplomacy, in deception, in the etiquette of multiple worlds...and they had all allowed themselves to be convinced that Loki was the smart but evil one, and Thor was the good but dumb one. He wasn't, but that narrative suited him at the time. It garnered him trust.

But Steve saw it now, and was torn between being impressed, and being uneasy. He sighed, and spread his hands.

“She remembers, doesn't she?” It was more a statement than a question. The big, friendly expression remained on Thors' face, but those bi-colored eyes were inscrutable. All eyes turned to him.

Steve watched him open his mouth, expected the lie to come-

“Yes.” Thor said. “She does.”

“Are you referring to what I think you're referring to?” Sam asked. “Because if you're referring to what I think you're referring to...”

“_____ remembers the events of the Snap. It has left an indelible mark upon her...as it has on all of us. She did not know the causes behind it, but she remembers living through it.”

“She 'did not know'? Past tense?” Tony demanded. “You told her?”

“Of course I did.” Thor admitted. “She had spent all the time since the Reversal believing that she was insane. If I could give her at least some small peace of mind regarding that, of course I would. How did you figure it out?”

“Some of the things she said, some of the ways she acts.” Steve said. “I took a peek at her birth records after we got into a conversation about birthday traditions, and realized she remembers being a year older than she should.”

“And you didn't think this was worth mentioning to anyone?” Rhodey accused. “This one thing we were trying to avoid happening, and you didn't have anything to say?”

“Did your brother have something to do with this?” Tony demanded. “Is that why he's all lovey-dovey? Trying to keep this under wraps?”

“No, no. Please, friends, remain calm. There's no sinister reason behind this. It's just that _____'s mental state was very fragile when she first came to us-”

Tony snorted.

“-And in some ways, still is. She was very paranoid when it came to this subject, full of self doubt, and worried about how she would be treated if other people found out. I didn't want anyone coming here with prying questions, not until she was more comfortable. As for Loki...Well, that's just what he looks like when he's happy. I know you've never seen him like that, but I remember.”

“Is she the only one?” Bucky asked.

Thor shook his head. “She said there were forums. Like small, electronic secret societies. None of them knew why they remember, what the connection is.”

“It's the magic, naturally.” Strange interjected. “You know? She has magical capabilities, these other people likely do as well. The stones are the source of magic, so it stands to reason that those that have it might not be affected by the spell.”

“You knew?” Tony snapped.

“You didn't?” Strange asked.

Then the shouting began.

[theyearoftheking]

Book Fourteen: Pet Sematary

“Sometimes people have to do things that just seem right. They seem right in their hearts, I mean. And if they do those things and then end up not feeling right, full of questions and sort of like they got indigestion, only inside their heads instead of their guts, they think they made a mistake...”

“Death is a mystery, and burial is a secret...”

So, it’s official guys: the world has become a Stephen King novel. We’re dealing with a worldwide pandemic like The Stand, and we’re all quarantined like The Shining. It’s kinda bizarre. 

So how did yours truly deal with the news of the impending apocalypse? 

I packed my bags and headed to New Orleans with my pals.

No, I wasn’t one of the people taking advantage of $30 flights a week out... we had booked this trip months ago, and the warnings were not as dire even early last week. But I will say, if the world is ending, I want to be in NOLA when it happens. Frosty drink, po boy... mama will be feeling no pain. 

And now I’m back home, drinking lemon water and trying to heal my liver after all the damage that was done last week. Oh, in the midst of all the debauchery, I managed to finish two Steve books. The first one was Pet Sematary; which was kind of ironic, considering one of our NOLA adventures was a cemetery tour. Here for your viewing pleasure is Nicholas Cage’s future place of burial. Rich people, am I right?

But while at the cemetery, we met a few charming Constant Readers from Bangor! They mentioned seeing Steve just a few weeks ago at the grocery store. It’s a good thing I don’t live in Bangor, I would have less than zero chill. But our new friends from Maine were lovely to talk to. 

On the surface, Pet Sematary is the story of the Creed family moving to Ludlow, Maine. Louis got a new job working at the university medical center, and his wife Rachel is down for the adventure. They have two kids, the precocious Ellie, and baby Gage (ugh. Even that name); and their cat Churchill. Upon their arrival in Ludlow, they meet their new neighbors: Jud and Norma Crandall. The Crandalls are a little older, but take to the Creed crew right away. 

Ludlow seems like a nice place. According to Jud, rabies seems like the biggest issue plaguing the entire state of Maine. “Lots of rabies in Maine now. There was a big old St. Bernard went rabid downstate a couple of years ago and killed four people. That was a hell of a thing...”

My post-it note for this page reads, “Cujo, bitches!” 

One afternoon, Jud takes the family on a hike, and shows them the old pet sematary right near their property. Later on at home, Rachel loses her shit. She doesn’t think children should be exposed to death, and it leads to a big ass fight. Louis is a doctor, and doesn’t think children should be sheltered from death. If they’re old enough to understand how babies are made, they’re old enough to understand how death works. But Rachel has some PTSD over the childhood death of her sister Zelda, and she’s never dealt with it. So her strategy is to brush the entire topic under the rug. At one point she tells Louis, “There’s nothing natural about death. Nothing. You as a doctor should know that.” 

Rachel, girl. Death is just about as natural as it gets. 

Thanksgiving rolls around, and Rachel takes the kids to see her asshole parents in Chicago, leaving Louis at home... where Churchill the cat ends up smooshed by an eighteen wheeler. Jud decides to take Louis on a little adventure, and shows him the burial ground behind the pet sematary, where whatever you bury comes back to life. 

I know. It’s a reallllly bad idea. Have these people not seen Practical Magic? Do they not understand how bringing back the dead never works out? Ugh. Idiots. 

Sidenote: if you haven’t seen Practical Magic, take advantage of quarantine time and go watch it. It’s late 1990′s Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman, and it’s basically the story of me and my sister. Kind of, but not really. 

So, Churchill comes back, but smellier and creepier; and it has Louis wondering why he brought him back from the dead in the first place. Even Ellie isn’t digging the new Church, and tells Louis she thinks she’ll be okay when he dies for good. So, mission accomplished? We’ll just refer to that as the weirdest damn parenting hack ever. 

Life continues on, until the horrible day when Gage is playing outside with Louis, and also gets smooshed by an eighteen wheeler. It’s a horrible tragedy, and the family is broken. Rachel is inconsolable, Ellie clutches a Polaroid of her and Gage, and Louis can’t make sense of the tragedy. But you already know what he’s thinking...

After the funeral, he sends Rachel and Ellie back to Chicago with Rachel’s (still) asshole parents; and begins the arduous process of burying Gage at the burial grounds. He knows better... he saw first hand what happened to Church after his resurrection. But he’s undeterred. He had visions of Gage becoming an Olympic swimmer, and will stop at nothing to bring his son back. 

Spoiler: it’s a shit show. Gage comes back from the burial grounds, swipes a knife from Louis’s doctor bag and kills Jud with it. He didn’t just come back a little smelly, or a little different... he came back as a Chucky doll. Back when Chucky was evil, before he became a comedic foil. 

Meanwhile in Chicago, Ellie is losing her shit, and having horrible premonitions that things are going terribly wrong in Ludlow. She finally convinces Rachel to go back home. Rachel knows something is wrong, but has no idea what Louis is really up to. I’m guaranteeing, “digging up dead son’s body, hauling it across town in the car, lugging it up to the burial ground, and waiting for him to come back to life” wasn’t in her top ten concerns.

 As she’s driving, she is trying her damnedest to stay awake, and sees a sign for one of our favorite towns in Maine, “Jerusalem’s Lot, she thought randomly, what an odd name. Not a pleasant name, for some reason... Come and sleep in Jerusalem.” 

Rachel gets home, and makes her way over to Jud’s house, where she finds his dead body, and is then killed by Gage, pretending to be her crazy, dead sister. Louis is forced to kill Gage, and then he buries Rachel up on the burial ground as well. The final lines of the book are, “A cold hand fell on Louis’s shoulder. Rachel’s voice was grating, full of dirt. Darling, it said.”

Meh. A mediocre ending to a decent book. I was curious why Louis brought Rachel back to life... he saw how terribly wrong it went with both Church and Gage... was he waiting for Rachel to kill him? Was he hoping that since he buried her sooner than Gage, she’d be more of a “normal zombie?” Unclear. 

But one thing is clear: I need to read The Monkey’s Paw by W.W. Jacobs. It’s been referenced at least a million times up until this point, and I have no excuses now that I’m living the quarantined life. 

While the book was fine, I did think the topic of handling death with children was still relevant. It’s about as controversial a topic as it gets. Do we discuss it with children, or give them the line about pets/grandparents/old people moving to a farm and living there forever? How do we explain the afterlife? Where do people go when they die? A lot of times, adults don’t have good answers to these questions, and they don’t know how to communicate this uncertainty to children. Personally, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with letting children know adults don’t have all the answers. We don’t know what happens when someone dies, and won’t know until we die ourselves. In my experience, kids kinda like knowing you don’t have all the answers either, but you’ll be there as a sounding board, and a safe place for them to confide their fears. Honest conversations like this could have been helpful for Rachel, and prevented this whole story from happening in the first place. Maybe? 

I don’t know. 

We did have one Dark Tower reference, “No more did he walk like a gunslinger; now his walk was the slow, careful walk of the convalescent...” 

And later on, Ellie thinks Church smells like, “ka-ka...” I can’t imagine it was ka for Church to get smooshed by a truck and brought back to life, but who the hell knows. I guess we all have a foggy, but bigger purpose. 

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 14

Total Dark Tower References: 10

Book Grade: C+

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

Different Seasons: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

The Dead Zone: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

Danse Macabre: B-

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Christine: D

Next up is Cycle of the Werewolf, which I have some thoughts about...

Until next time, Long Days and Pleasant Nights,

Rebecca

[thorne93]

Stan Lee University (Part 12)

Prompt: What would the Avengers be like in college, more importantly, what would they be like if Y/N existed around them?

Word Count: 1591

Warnings: drama, language,

Notes: This is based on a HC from @carryonmyswansong. They helped brainstorm and write part of this series. In this AU, no one will have powers, everyone is a normal human. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stephen let you crash at his place, in the guest bedroom, then drove you to your first class of the day. All day, you felt this euphoria of Stephen’s night and yours. He opened up to you, and you to him. There wasn’t pressure, but trust.

Stephen ended up texting you that he hoped you had a good day and you sent him a smiley back, and wished him the same.

The next day, you were in your sociology class where Scott practically ran in when he saw you.

“Holy crap, Y/N,” he said, soaring in and landing in the seat beside you. “Did you hear?”

“Hear… what?” you urged, looking at him confused.

“Loki. He got punched, hard.”

“Good,” you muttered. “Listen, I really don’t want to talk about that ass any--”

“Don’t you wanna know what happened? Who did it?” he asked, clearly excited.

You frowned. “I don’t know. I mean--”

“You do. Okay, so word has it, Stephen Strange did it. He walked out of the science building. Right after that, he went and just nailed Loki--” He made a hitting motion from his left fist to his right palm “--Wham! Right in the jaw. Out in the courtyard. He didn’t say a word.”

A tiny smile played at your lips.

“Did you see it?” you wondered, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah. I did. It was pretty incredible. The guy just came up and socked him. Loki went down like a sack of potatoes. He was bleeding kinda bad and didn’t get up. He yelled at Stephen, but from what I could see, he didn’t respond.”

“That’s… Well, karma, right?” you said. You didn’t have any concrete evidence that Stephen did that for you, but if he did it right before he came to your dorm, it must’ve been about the bet.

“Right? It was awesome.”

“I bet it was,” you mused. You picked up your phone and texted him. “You hit Loki?”

“There’s no proof I did.”

“If there was, I’d enjoy seeing it.”

“Other than the bloody nose, and cut across his face, which I definitely did not give him, there is none.”

“Lol, duly noted. Thank you, any way. It means a lot.”

“Standing up for your honor was pretty easy.”

The goofiest grin crossed your face before you slipped your phone away for class. When all your classes were done for the day and you headed back to your dorm, you ran into Steve in the lobby.

“Hey,” you said, stopping him. “Could we talk?” you asked.

“Sure,” he obliged, a little confusion in his voice as you led him down the hall to your doorways.

“Hey, I just wanted to say thank you, for telling me about the bet. You didn’t have to tell me, but you did. I really appreciate that.”

He shook his head. “Eh, it was nothing.”

“No, it really was. You could’ve ignored it, said it was none of your business…”

With a somber smile, he said, “I couldn’t watch you get ridiculed like that. You don’t deserve it.”

A blossom of warmth spread in your chest. “Even after me and Bucky, and all that?”

He waved your words off. “What happened between you and Buck, stays between you two. You getting fucked over and not knowing about it, well that’s another thing.”

“Thanks, Steve.” You leaned up on your toes and wrapped your arms around his neck. “You’re a really good guy, Steve, I hope you know that. Bucky and I are both really lucky to have you in our lives.”

When you let go, he was blushing and rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t sweat it.”

“Good night,” you bid him as you slipped into your room, ready to text Stephen some more.

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

Friday night and you were back at Stephen’s house, rather than his dorm. The two of you liked the quiet, the privacy, the fact that you weren’t on campus, in the middle of all the bullshit.

You were in his room, a huge room with a king size, super soft bed and oversized TV. The TV was on low, as you two had ended up chit-chatting, shooting the shit about school and professors and classmates. You were going to play video games but both of you went into a lazy mode.

“You got your half of the lab report done?” he asked as he laid, his head hanging off the end of the bed.

“No, I blew it off,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes. “Yes, it’s done. I’ll email it to you tomorrow if that’s cool.”

“Nope. Need it right now.”

“Psht, as if you could focus on homework with me around.”

He just laughed. “You excited about being a senior next year?”

“Yeah. I’m a little nervous. You?”

He rolled over, peering down at you while you still laid on your back. “Nervous? What are you nervous about?”

You looked off to the side, not sure if you were ready to be this open with him. He’d been a complete gentleman so far. Hell, you weren’t even dating or official or whatever. He hadn’t made one move at you, which was really nice. He was just… being a friend, listening, but you were so worried he would be another Loki. Even if he hit Loki, even if he was there for you afterward, you weren’t sure you were ready to just… let him in, let him all the way in.

But you took a deep breath.

“I’m trusting you here,” you announced, your tone heavy.

“I know,” he assured as he stared at you.

You sighed. “I’m nervous because I worry every day that I’ll fail as a psychiatrist. That I won’t treat someone properly and they’ll commit suicide. That someone will think I don’t care. That someone will accuse me of just being in it for the money… I worry that I won’t get into med school at all. I worry that my drive and passion will drive away anyone who might want to marry me.”

“It’d only drive away idiots,” he stated.

You gave a half smile. “Thanks.”

“You know… I left behind a lot of my friends at BU. I was close to quite a few of them. But that school was just awful. I needed to get out of there. For me. So when you were telling me about how you worried about your friendships falling apart, it’s okay. The friendships that should endure, do, and the ones that don’t… well they become a fond memory. But I was scared. I was nervous as shit. New campus, trying to figure out where to go, who to talk to, who not to talk to. Then this plucky girl comes up to me and invites me to a pre-med club. It was a sign I was where I belonged.”

A shy smile displayed on your face despite yourself.  “But what does that have to do with me worrying about being a failure?” you asked, curious as to why he said that.

“Because I know what it’s like to be scared. Worried your future isn’t going to work out exactly how you want it to.”

“But what it if doesn’t?” you asked.

“Well for one thing, it will, because you’re brilliant and hard working. But on the off chance it doesn’t, you pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and move forward, towards a new solution, a new path to get you where you wanna go. Just like I know you will do.”

“What’s come over you, Strange? Do I need to check you for a concussion? You’re being awfully nice to me?”

“I’m always nice to you,” he breathed as he gazed down at you.

The air suddenly shifted. Stephen wasn’t just this guy any more. He was… He was a guy that you wanted, really and truly wanted.

He eyed your lips then stared into your eyes before slowly coming down to meet your lips. As soon as his lips touched yours, it felt like you’d been rocketed to cloud nine. His lips were soft, extremely soft, the pressure ever so gentle on you. You didn’t feel trapped, or pinned, or pressured. He was putting the smallest amount on you to let you know he was, in fact, kissing you.

You pressed back slightly, letting him know his advances weren’t unwanted. He tasted, he felt, so different than Loki or Bucky. There was this… current that seemed to flow between you two. An energy you’d never felt before.

Within a second, he broke the spell around you. He leaned back slightly and peered down at you with a goofy smile.

“Was that as good for you as it was for me?” he asked. “What am I saying? Of course it was, you just kissed me.”

You grabbed a pillow and hit him. “You’re a cocky, arrogant bastard!” you teased, laughing.

“You haven’t objected yet.”

“I’m about to kick your ass all over this room, how’s that for objecting?” you asked, crossing your arms and smiling at him.

“I’d actually really like to see that.”

You rolled your eyes and turned onto your stomach to watch TV. “You’re twisted, Strange.”

“Maybe you should analyze me, doctor,” he joked as he settled beside you.

“Oh, good god, no. I don’t have all week.”

“Oh, so I need to pencil time in with you now?”

“Definitely. You don’t have any special pull here,” you teased, nudging him.

He laughed and the two of you enjoyed the night watching TV and eating popcorn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[ladyofpurple]

answer all of the questions!!

holy SHIT ok bless you omg

(sorry it's a full day late i took this shit SERIOUSLY. don't ask me how many hours this took, i was in A Mood™️ last night. removed the ones already answered xoxo)

angel; have you ever been in love?

yeah. didn't end too well, but i loved him.

petal; favorite novel and author?

this is like asking me to pick a favorite child. i guess favorite author would be stephen king, if only based entirely on the sheer quantity of his books i own alone. favorite book would probably be special topics in calamity physics by marisha pessl, and i'm only saying that because it's been my go-to response for years. i have lots of favorite books. ask me again in five minutes and i'll give you another one.

honey perfume; favorite perfume/scent?

freshly made coffee. lilacs. jasmine. cut grass. the ground after it rains. chocolate chip cookies in the oven. cigarette smoke on skin. my mom's shampoo. my grandma. my dog when he's just had a bath. thanksgiving dinner. acrylic paint on canvas. sawdust. that one cologne i can't name but can smell on a guy from a mile away. mulled cranberry and apple juice. vanilla. coconut. fresh laundry. peppermint.

sweet pea; what’s your zodiac?

virgo sun, pisces moon, scorpio rising ✨

softie; talk about your sexuality.

i'm biromantic asexual, primarily attracted to men more than women (but have had too many crushes on girls to consider myself het), generally sex repulsed when it comes to the thought of having it myself. i prefer to call myself queer in passing conversation, it's easier than explaining asexuality and the differences between sexual and romantic attraction. if someone asks more specifically, i'll usually just call myself bi for simplicity's sake, even though the ace part is a much more important (to me) part of my identity. monogamous as fuck.

i'm still struggling with internalized homophobia and a lot of "am i even queer enough" thoughts, which is super fun. took me a long time to even consider the fact that i might like girls at all. i'll probably never come out to my parents. not that they'd, like, disown me or whatever, but they're juuuuust homophobic/transphobic enough that my few attempts to educate them when they say something A Little Yikes have shown me that i should probably just stay in the closet unless i absolutely have to come out. like i'm getting married to a woman or something.

sugarplum; what’s the color of your eyes and hair?

i usually say my eyes are green because it's easier, and they mostly are, but i have rings of greyish blue around the irises and sometimes they're more hazel in the middle. they always have a green tint to them though, even if the intensity of the green varies.

my natural hair is brown, a little on the darker and slightly ashy side of completely generic. currently a former blonde, although i'm hoping to bleach my fucking YEAR of growout soon, and then go some crazy color as a last hurrah before i have to go dark again. being broke fucking sucks.

wings; coffee or tea?

tea!! black tea. chai, to be specific, with an irresponsible amount of milk and sugar. chai lattes are a fucking drug okay? coffee makes me sick (not a judgement, a literal fact. last time i tried some i threw up).

fairytale; are you a cat or dog person?

cat!! but my family has a chihuahua named sonny and you can pry that little monster from my cold dead hands ok i will fight you.

snowflake; favorite time period?

okay, i wrote and rewrote my answer to this about 10 times. then i tried to divide it up into categories (aesthetics, history, fashion, vibes, geographical location, etc), but that didn't help. so basically: i don't have one, because i have too many.

i like the american 20s-60s for the aesthetic, music/movies, and the fashion. i also like the european 1600s-1800s for the interesting history and also vibe. i love the french and russian revolutions — the fashion! the art! the wars and political upheaval! I FUCKING LOVE HISTORY. then, of course, we can't forget the rennaisance. or the witch trials (pick your continent). and ancient greece? the roman empire? hello?? did i mention empires? how bout we mosy on over to south america — can i interest you in the mayans? incans? aztecs? what about china and japan? korea? vietnam? and don't even get me fucking STARTED on the black plague.

ancient egypt? sign me the FUCK UP. vikings? yes please. the celts? oh boy. the MYTHOLOGY. the ARCHITECTURE. the LANGUAGES and POLITICS and LITERATURE and REVOLUTIONS and GOD HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CHOOSE BETWEEN ANY OF THESE

i uh. might have gotten a little excited. basically i like history a lot. and mythology. and linguistics. and cultural practices. and the politics and prejudices behind wars and stuff. and learning in general. moving on.

vanilla; do you believe in ghosts?

let's put it this way: i don't not believe in ghosts??

listen. we don't know jack shit. we don't know what happens after we die, there are constant scientific revelations that turn our understanding of the universe completely upside-down, and there is literally no way to know which religions or myths or urban legends could have some grain of truth to them. like, dude, i've literally thought i was haunted before. psychology is bananas and the universe is infinite.

demons could be real. ghosts could be real. what if we just haven't invented the necessary technology to prove it yet? what if we never do, and they just fuck around alongside us, moving furniture and making shadow puppets on the walls just for kicks until the earth explodes? what if that one tumblr post was right and ghosts are actually real people from alternate universes or timelines that we see accidentally bc some cosmic wires got crossed? who fucking knows.

i love horror movies and scary stories and ghost hunter shows just as much as the next gal. but listen. psychics? mediums? people who accept every single creepypasta retold third-hand from their neighbor's kid's classmate's second cousin who "totally knows a guy"? doubt.jpeg

i don't understand the sheer amount of assumptions made willy-nilly about the nature of ghosts and demons and things that go bump in the night. the assumption that "oh this machine that totally doesn't look like a coathanger taped to a walkman will work because ghosts have this temperature and can always communicate like this and are electromagnetic" or whatever just baffles me. to a certain degree, following a general consensus is one thing — some basic things everyone can agree on? that's cool. ghosts can walk through walls and are probably dead people or whatever. but oh my god, taking every single story as absolute, undeniable proof?? taking these stories and expanding on them to infer intentions and scientific facts to something that by it's very nature is unknowable and assuming, like, every spirit is created equal?? and yeah, ghost hunting shows are fun and campy and kinda creepy but like. you really, genuinely don't think any of them have ever faked anything at all??? even if ghosts are real, it's fucking reality tv, my dude. it's the entertainment industry. at least maintain the slightest ounce of critical thought before taking zak bagans' word as the goddamn gospel.

and sidenote, maybe it's just my limited exposure as a white woman in the western world, but of all the shows and podcasts and movies and documentaries and whatnot i've been able to find and consume, there's the constant use of christian ideology applied to every situation that just really burns my bacon. what, there's never been an atheist ghost? if you see a shadow person and you don't know the lord's prayer by heart, are you automatically fucked? why are there never stories about, i don't know, viking ghosts? does your religion in life preclude you from becoming a ghost in the first place? is that why people never mention buddhist ghosts? i don't get it, and that's why even though i'm self-admittedly the most superstitious person i've ever met, true believers make me roll my eyes so hard they almost fall out. makes me come across as more skeptical than i theoretically am. I HAVE VERY STRONG FEELINGS ABOUT THIS OK

but like, you couldn't pay me to fuck with a ouija board. i'm not stupid.

delicate; diamonds or pearls?

both have their appeal and their place, but diamonds, i guess. i like the sparkle. but fake ones!! or synthetic. diamonds are overpriced and artificial scarcity is a scam and i don't need a dumb rock that some poor person in a mine somewhere was exploited and possibly died for. no blood diamonds in this house, thank you very much.

if i ever get engaged, i don't want a diamond ring. i'd want something cool, a little unusual, like a ruby or a sapphire or some other sparkly gem that isn't literally shoved in your face every waking moment as the expected standard symbol of True Love. they're cheaper, they're cool-looking, as a ring they still hold the cultural symbolism of an engagement/wedding ring. and honestly, as long as it's well-made and durable, whatever hypothetical gem it is doesn't have to be real either. i'm a woman of simple needs and demonstrably low standards. no point in going into debt for a fucking piece of jewelry, regardless of ~tradition~.

lavender dream; favorite album?

oh lord. welcome to the black parade, i guess. or anything by panic! at the disco. there are dozens of possible options — my interests are mercurial and my memory is garbage. but i'll always be an emo little shit. black parade and vices and virtues were also the first two albums i ever listened to where i loved every single song on them, and i happened to listen to them for the first time at around the same point in my life (i got into mcr super late. like, 2012 late. rip).

silky; what’s your biggest dream?

it's cheesy but i guess i just want stability and, by extension, happiness. emotional stability, mental stability, financial stability, stable living situation, stable routines, stable relationships... you get the idea. i have ambitions and passions, of course, but my ultimate goal is happiness at this point in my life, and i'm pretty sure stabilizing all those things would go a pretty long way in achieving that goal.

a little apartment with walls i can paint because white walls make me angry. bookshelves and posters and fandom merch on every wall. a computer i can actually play games on again, and somewhere i can paint and draw and record my podcasts. someone who loves me, maybe. a cat, if i'm stable enough. space for people to come visit me, and a place for them to sleep if they need. a tiny balcony, if i really want to shoot for the stars. a job i don't hate. the spoons to hang out with my friends, and the money to not worry about buying little presents for the people i care about sometimes. i don't need much.

strawberry kiss; do you have a crush right now?

nope.

glitter; favorite fictional character?

another loaded question. like books, if you ask me again in five minutes i'll probably give you a different answer. but in this particular moment, caleb and jester from critical role (please don't make me choose between them). i won't go full shipping mode rn, but jester is so funny and silly and sweet, so much more complex than she seems, and she tries so hard to make everyone happy even when she's so sad inside. the healer who treats healing as an inconvenience in battle (she's so fucking valid and also mood), the glue that keeps the party together. and caleb learning to trust again, facing his trauma and coming out of his shell. he loves his friends so much he plays wizard as a support class and i love him so much.

i love the mighty nein in general, of course, and all the guests/honorary members they've had. pumat!! pls don't be evil reani!! keg!! shakäste and grand duchess anastasia!! cali!! kiri!!!! the brotps! empire siblings! chaos crew! nott the best detective agency! i still love molly and all his assholery to bits (fight me), and mourn his lost potential. i adore yasha, even when she's gone; fjord has grown so much; beau and nott and caduceus — i love all their flaws and disagreements and their character arcs and the excitement of watching them grow and learn. but if i had to choose, caleb, jester and molly have always been my top 3 since day 1 and, well, molly isn't really an option anymore.

but like i said, ask me again in a minute. i have a fucking list.

swan; share a quote or passage that means something to you.

a collection of things off the top of my head:

Elinor agreed to it all, for she did not think he deserved the compliment of rational opposition. — Sense and Sensibility, Jane Austen

a tired feminist Mood™️

"What I say is, a town isn't a town without a bookstore. It may call itself a town, but unless it's got a bookstore, it knows it's not foolin' a soul." — American Gods, Neil Gaiman

i got my love of books from my grandma — some of my favorites i got from her. sometimes, as a treat, she used to take my sister and i to bookstores and we'd stay there for ages, getting to pick one out, roaming the shelves, the mental torture of having to choose. the peace of being surrounded by thousands of potential worlds, so much information, so many stories just waiting to be told; being surrounded by strangers who share that same wonder. the anxious drive home so we could read them, being unable to wait that long so i inevitably start reading in the car and make myself sick. telling her in excited detail all my favorite parts. if we were lucky, maybe we got to split a bear claw, or she'd drive past starbucks and get us something there too (tall vanilla soy steamer with one pump of vanilla syrup, whipped cream on top that always melted too quickly and squirted out the hole in the lid, so hot it burned my tongue but so good i didn't care). i have never felt more at home than i do when i'm surrounded by books.

"There are a lot of different types of freedom. We talk about freedom the same way we talk about art, like it was a statement of quality rather than a description. “Art” doesn’t mean good or bad. Art just means art. It can be terrible and still be art. Freedom can be good or bad, too. There can be terrible freedom. You freed me, and I didn’t ask you to." — Alice Isn't Dead, season 1, chapter 2: Alice

as cringey as it is to admit it, this line made me cry a lot after my breakup.

"So you aren't American?" asked Shadow.

"Nobody's American," said Wednesday. "Not originally. That's my point." — American Gods, Neil Gaiman

[side-eyes white america real hard]

there's more, of course. there's always more. don't even get me started on song lyrics, we'll be here all day.

lace; what’s your favorite plant/flower?

lilacs and roses.

mermaid; do you prefer the forest or the ocean? why?

both, i guess. but in different ways, and in different circumstances.

the sea is wild. it is endless and deep and unknowable. it is beautiful and dangerous. i am terrified of the ocean, and yet my favorite place in the world is an empty beach on the oregon coast. i have picked sand from between my toes for days with hair crusted in salt, danced around bonfires and watched the stars while marshmallows burn, gotten pulled under the waves as a child and nearly swept out to sea. picked starfish and crabs from small pools in the rocks, and swum (accidentally) with wild sea lions. in a long skirt, too early in the year to be swimming, i once took off my shoes and waded fully clothed into the water to my waist and just... danced. splashed and kicked and laughed with a boy i barely knew until our throats were sore and our toes were numb, walking home hours later with our soaked clothes clinging to our legs, shoes squelching, dripping algae as we went. the ocean is freeing and overwhelming all at once. i love it and am petrified by it in equal measure.

the forest is beautiful in a different way. it is silent and dense and serene. you are surrounded by life and yet, somehow, completely alone. there is magic in the forest, and history, and even when all else dies, that will remain. the trees grow from the corpses of their ancestors, and some have lived dozens of our lifetimes — with luck, a few dozen more. it is quiet there, peaceful, even the tiniest wood in the middle of a city muffling the outside world through the trees. you can feel the ancient ways deep in your soul as you follow winding paths strewn with fallen leaves, the mystery and wonder and superstitions of your forefathers. you wonder what it would be like, to run your fingers over the moss, to take off your shoes and socks and just run, leaping and dancing over rocks and roots, hair wild and air filling your lungs in deep, pure gulps as you shed the responsibilities and struggles of modern life, for just a moment remembering what freedom tastes like. it is primal, this connection to nature, one we have nearly forgotten over time. and as the sky grows dark and the silence of night presses against you, shadows looming, every footfall deafening, perhaps you begin to understand why some believed in monsters.

honeymoon; do you keep a journal?

i used to. honestly, that's a good idea, i should start doing that again. lord knows i have enough empty journal-type books.

starlight; do you believe in love at first sight and soulmates? why/why not?

i want to. i want to believe there's someone out there for me, the love of my life, someone to whom i'll be the love of their life, and that when i meet them i'll just... know.

but when i met my ex, i didn't really look twice at him for a while — no love at first sight. and when we were together, when i loved him and he swore he loved me back, i thought he hung the stars in the sky and knew i would marry him someday. couldn't even consider the idea that that wouldn't happen. and then when he broke up with me, he ghosted me so suddenly and thoroughly that he even preemptively cut contact with every single one of our mutual friends he thought might side with me in the breakup, before anybody even knew we'd had a fight. so, not soulmates either.

i really want to believe that someday the perfect romance will just fall into place and i can have the happily ever after i've always dreamed of. but the reality is i might never even have another s.o. for the rest of my life. maybe i'll get hit by a car tomorrow, or my hypothetical soulmate moves to argentina to become an alpaca farmer on a mountain somewhere and we never even meet. maybe i'm so traumatized by the betrayal and lies that i'll never have the courage to even try again.

and even so, happily ever after doesn't have to include a fairytale romance, regardless of whether i want it or not. i still like to cling to that hope though, deep down.

princess; what do you value most in people?

i'm going to assume you mean "real people" as in people i have positive relationships with, and not random strangers on the street.

loyalty. kindness. support. humor. similar values. patience. being able to grow together and teach each other things, so we can make each other better. honesty. trust. compassion. confidence. emotional vulnerability. communication. intelligence, or at least a willingness to learn. strength.

[siremasterlawrence]

The Grand Scale Of Things.

My friend Grant Marks was a nerdy, skinny, young guy who I befriended years ago to my surprise he was very nice. I had a plan to help him out of his slump where he invited me to join him for lunch. I enter his office as he pulls off his glasses, stress out from work I can see it in his eyes, an I was about to relieve him of it. He offers his as we shake giving me enough time, it was rather quick for me sliding my hyp stick into the laptop, the Hypno stick takes is in good work.

“What is going on with my laptop dude?” He ask me before his eyes get pulled to the lap top screen. The look as his eyes go completely blank m, his jaw slacks as he falls down with his tongue hanging, an he was completely in trance. “Grant watch the video very carefully, it is of the upmost importance for you to try an absorb all of it, those are my words of my mind absolute the truth. I am the love of your life my friend Grant, I always have been dear Grant L Marks” I say to him.

“Very good boi Grant lean forward looking into my eyes, listen to my voice as everything in the mind of yours, an know one thing that I am all that is matters to you. Grant you have all but one purpose to please me, that intelligence of yours is to be of use for me, and I am the center of your world.” I say as my world circle around his mind so carefully, he falls back into his chair. “Grant remember what I say for it is now at the snap of my finger you are reborn.”I say to him.

He smiles at me very happily with this truly dumb look on his face, I walk over to him as he was in thrall with me, an once only to please me. I hear foot stops as a large muscle man walks in, he finally introduces me to his muscle bound boss, a plan begins to take shape with me. I have the power to wield anything truly magical in my hand, my finger glows as I walk in back of him as he deep in conversation, an I press my finger into the back of the neck. He Is stopped cold in his tracks as he falls back to the ground.

I point a finger at Grant L Marks as he fades out of existence, his boss Stephen Jackson suddenly wakes up from trance, an he looks at me extremely happy. He takes me by my hands as he kisses me deeply, the spell was just about completely as Stephens soul lifts into the air. He lands in the chair appearing in Grants skinny frame body, he was unaware of what was going on with his life, as far as he is concerned he was always Stephen. He stands up grabbing me into hug, saying why am I so late for lunch.

Grant looks so good fixing his suit jacket as he gets more comfortable, I tell him I will meet in his new office in an hour, the door closes on us so I turn my attention by to the new Stephen. He looks up at me angrily in the eyes as to say the jig is up. “Why am I in this weaklings body now? You will change us back...” he starts to say to me as I stare him down, his body shuts back down as he drops to get chair, and a look of fear covers his face. “I hate to break it to you Stephen, this is not what I planned for you at all, this was of your own making so enjoy.” I say.

I leave as Stephen was no more completely leaving the room, he fades into obscurity of a subspace I built until I find use for him, an I will of course as Grants body falls to the ground. I stomp on the ground it opens up swallowing his body, it was to be sent to the lost soul department for ghost to possess as they see fit. I walk into the main presidential office suit only to find Grant, he was posing on his brand new desk for me, we make out like crazy while I was kicking the door close. “How may I thank you for this?” Stephen ask.

“Stop resisting except what is happening to you it is a gift.” I say to him at the moment of our bonding. His mind starts to readjust to my liking forever, an he will completely be what I desire always. We head out of two office back to Stephens place, I take out clothes from his closet, we head down to his secret man cave apparently a huge fan of Green Arrows. I walk around as he filled our glasses up, we take a sip enjoying the views of the layout, and he is staring at me with love.

“Can I just say I love the view you are giving me? It’s perfect really.”He says to me with lust in his eyes, he was so happy to obey me every command, and live at my will for all eternity as my Slave. “Barry Marks kneel before me your King right now, I am your world serve me in all your glorious splendor. That’s right look at me my slave boi, look deep into my eyes as the last of your will is gone, an your will fully has become mine. My love take my hand quickly feeling all my energy corse through you.

“Why did you choose to love me Master? My love I am not questioning you at all, don’t get me wrong I love you more then you know, I shall become all that you desire forever.” He asks me with love as I tell him that I love only him, I am going his body as my property as of now, an he will be all mind to control forever. He smiles at me with such great love yet again, we make out like crazy as I feel the heart of breath, and the force of his tongue on mine.

The end.

[rose-gold-romantic]

Whatever It Takes: Epilogue

A Loki x Reader based in the Tesseract fic universe! Avengers: Infinity War follow-up fic. Next in the Tesseract fic series. Links to Tesseract, Lokasenna, What Heroes Do, and Fidelity. Also to my AU Feel You.

I WOULD LOVE FEEDBACK! Want to be tagged in updates? Let me know!

@malignentmac @fandomsfanman @i-am-supermerwholoked221b @markusstrayya @sincereleygmg @pandaqua​ @person-born-winchester

Just a forewarning, this one has a major POV shift from the past entries, since Reader was Dusted at the end of Fidelity! Keeping with my recent trend in fic titles, it’s named after a track on the official soundtrack. I also constantly watch this Video, and recommend it to hype you up!

Tony’s funeral was held at his house, and there was not a dry eye to be seen. Everyone stood silently to watch Pepper put a wreath out onto the lake, Stark’s first ARC reactor floating in the center. Most lingered after the ceremony to show their support for Pepper and Morgan, and celebrate the life that had been given for the universe’s well-being.

It was touching to see just how many lives Tony had directly affected, how many people came to pay their respects.

As some began to trickle out, Bruce and Steve asked for help in assembling a the miniature Quantum tunnel that would take the stones back to their proper timeline. When the work had been finished, Bruce began punching numbers into the console, prepping the tunnel for travel.

“Now Steve, are you sure you want to do this alone?” Bruce asked. “That’s a lot of stones to be carrying around all by yourself.”

“I think I can manage.” Steve responded, picking up Mjolnir and stepping onto the platform. “But I wouldn’t exactly mind the company.”

“I’ll go.” (Y/N) suggested, “I want to see what it’s like!”

“I’ll go with as well.” I said, tossing her a spare Quantum nanosuit. “Many hands make light work.”

“I’ll trust you guys to take back the scepter and the Tesseract then.” Steve said, passing those to us in separate containers.

“Are you guys ready?” Bruce asked, “I’ve got the new configuration all punched in.”

“Go ahead.” Steve said, all of our helmets engaging in unison.

I gripped (Y/N)’s hand, the other holding the scepter that I had to return to the proper Shield agents. (Y/N) and I warped to the alley, and made our way towards the tower quickly. I placed the scepter carefully into the open case it had been taken from, closing and locking the mechanism silently.

“How are we going to get this back there?” (Y/N) asked, “There’s some kind of craziness happening in there.”

“Bruce must have returned us to when Tony and Scott were initially stealing it, or trying to.” I answered. “Our best bet would be to slide the Tesseract as close to them as we can get it, since the case was knocked open at this point.”

“You’ve got it.” (Y/N) said, walking forward before I could stop her, opening the case. “I’ll do it since during this time I’m still a Shield agent.”

“Wait, you shouldn’t-” before my warning could fully leave my lips, (Y/N) touched the Tesseract. Though it did not burn her hand, I could instantly see its blue glowing energy seeping through her skin.

“Oh no.” She murmured, “I have to move, NOW.”

She ran into the tower, nearly throwing the cube across the floor towards the group of Avengers, 2012 Tony still on the ground from the cardiac issue that Scott had given him. The Tesseract slid to a stop next to 2012 Thor, and this time, it was retrieved before my 2012 self could grab it.

(Y/N) gripped her hand, hissing and groaning in discomfort as we hurriedly left the tower.

“Are you alright?” I asked repeatedly, trying to see the damage that had been done to her right palm.

“I’m fine, I think.” She said, gazing up to me with glowing blue eyes.“But I don’t think I’m Tesseract-free anymore.”

“What are we going to do with-” I was cut off by the Quantum tunnel sucking us back in, depositing us back on the platform in front of Bruce.

“What happened?” Bruce asked, worried. “Everything seemed normal, but then (Y/N)’s signature shifted so quickly I almost lost it!”

“(Y/N) is host to the tesseract once more.” I sighed. “Though I don’t know just how much of it.”

“I think she’ll be fine.” Danvers said, having been called over to assist if needed. “I got nearly blown to smithereens by it, and here I am. If anything wierd happens, you can give me a ring, but I think that it’s such a small amount, I doubt she’d even know it happened if it wasn’t for her eyes. And even that’s dimming.”

“It’s because I’m not close to it.” (Y/N) said. “I guess I never will be again, given that the Tesseract is gone now.”

“Then I guess we’re all of it that’s left.” Danvers smiled.

“Where’s Steve?” Thor asked, “Wasn’t he supposed to come back too?”

“Yea,” Bruce agreed, “But I’m giving him a little extra time, since he’s got more stones to put away.”

“Does that even matter, if he’s in the time machin-”

“I’m working on it, okay?” Bruce said, cutting Thor off. “I’ve only got one functional hand right now. I’ll get him back.”

“No you won’t.” Bucky murmured, almost too quietly for me to hear.

“Well, if that craziness is over, I’m ready to go home.” Thor said.

“I keep forgetting that you have a new home here.” (Y/N) smiled softly, “There’s so much for me to catch up on.”

“I’m sure you’re not the only one that feels that way.” Thor laughed, “Five years is a lot to miss. In any case, I have some things to sort out there, and you would love it, (Y/N).”

“Allow me to introduce you to New Asgard, and catch you up on at least a small part of what you weren’t around to see.” I said, taking her hand.

“I can help with that.” Strange said as he walked by, opening a portal that gave a brilliant view of the cliffs that overlooked New Asgard as dawn began to break.

“Thank you, Stephen.” I nodded.

The portal closed once we had stepped through it, the fresh sea breeze blowing in our faces as we approached the cliff’s edge.

We chose to sit down and watch the sun slowly rise into the sky, the gulls beginning to awaken for the day.

“I spoke to mother when I went to Asgard.” Thor said quietly.

“What did you say?” I asked as (Y/N) leaned onto my shoulder.

“Lots of things.” Thor replied, sighing. “I might have divulged our entire plan, and the problem leading up to it.”

“That seems like a risky decision.” I smiled.

“Since when do I make any other kind?” Thor replied, chuckling. After a pause, he turned to look at me. “She was very proud of you, brother. She almost couldn’t believe how much you’ve changed.”

“She always saw the worst of me, and loved me through it.” I replied, squeezing (Y/N)’s hand.

“She also brought it to my mind just how much you’ve changed, you’ve matured.” Thor continued, gazing out to the sun. “How much wiser you’ve become. You’re a real leader now.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” I said.

“Well Mjolnir seemed to indicate otherwise.” Thor countered, a kind smile on his face. “I suppose I’d better go speak with Valkyrie.”

Thor rose, dusting off himself before turning to walk away.

“Why’s that?” I asked, looking to him.

“She needs to know about the change of leadership that will happen when I leave.”

“You’re leaving?” (Y/N) and I asked at the same time in bewilderment.

“I’ve never been right for this.” Thor said, gesturing to New Asgard below. “You know how much I always want to move, to do new things. That’s not befitting for a King with a people that need his help.”

“Is Valkyrie replacing you?” I asked, “I’m not sure she’ll want that responsibility quite this fast.”

“No, brother.” Thor replied. “The line of the throne falls to you.”

“I beg your pardon?” I stammered. “Thor, I don’t appreciate this kind of gaming.”

“I’m not kidding.” Thor said, “You’ll make a far better king than I’ve been for the past five years. New Asgard will flourish under your leadership. It’s time for me to be who I am, rather than who I’m supposed to be. And the same is true of you.”

“But where will you go?” (Y/N) asked, standing up.

I followed suit, “What will you do?”

“I’m not sure.” Thor answered. “For the first time in a thousand years, I… I have no path. But I will have a ride. Rabbit will be here soon with the Benatar. Wherever we go, I know that it will be the right path for me.”

“Will you ever come back?” I asked.

“I’ll of course visit you.” Thor smiled. “There’s sure to be nieces and nephews in my future, and I wouldn’t miss that for every world in the universe.”

(Y/N) and I both flushed red, the head in our cheeks increasing the more we thought about it.

“And look, brother.” Thor said, gesturing out to the sunrise and open ocean. “You were right all along. The sun is shining on us again.”

“I don’t know what to say.” I said, mind still spinning. “Other than thank you, and I will do my very best to protect Asgard, and help it to thrive.”

“I know you will.” Thor said, beginning to walk away. “You’ve worked too hard, and come too far, to allow anything else.”

Thor walked away, leaving (Y/N) and I alone on the cliff.

“So what now, my king?” (Y/N) said, smiling as she buried herself in my chest.

“We could keep Thor from leaving.” I joked, “Give him that nephew and niece he seems to want so badly.”

(Y/N) laughed, the golden sunlight bathing her skin in a heavenly glow. The sweet sound of her laughter melted me, and my pulse jumped as I greedily took in her beauty.

“Maybe we should finally get married before we jump into starting a family.” She smiled, wrapping her arm around me. “I’m too selfish to share you quite yet.”

“Whatever you wish.” I said, wrapping her in my arms and pressing my lips to hers before whispering into her ear.

“My Queen.”

[tessatechaitea]

Scarab #6

I don't know what's happening on this cover but I definitely have a new sexual fetish.

This comic book stars a raccoon. Rating: A+.

Most of the weird dialogue in this comic book probably comes from John Smith's high school notepads full of terrible poetry. I mean, this part about winter isn't too bad! I kind of like it. It's almost as if William Carlos Williams and H.P. Lovecraft were caught in a Star Trek transporter malfunction where their minds were melded but they had to overcome the horror of their new two-dicked physical existence to continue writing poetry. I knew John Smith was English from his previous work on 2000 A.D. and other British comic book periodicals but then he uses the phrase "Chinese whispers" in this issue and I think, "If I hadn't already known he was English from his previous work on 2000 A.D. and other British comic book periodicals, I'd now know he was English by his use of the phrase 'Chinese whispers.'" Here are some of the ideas John Smith throws into a two-page account of Scarab's recent adventures that he couldn't bother writing into full scripts but wanted everybody to know he thought up anyway: a television at the Waldorf haunted by the 20th Century, a pervert breaking the spirits of kids with his Zoo of Shame, The Phantom Barber stealing scalps from runway models, the world's sexiest man raped by Tarot cards, and the Electric Fetus Machine which manifests as a large organ whose music foments rebellion in fetuses. Is this how the British writers took over DC's adult comic books? By occluding our minds with so much random and weird pseudo-philosophical garbage that we couldn't think straight? Sure, I guess an Electric Fetus Machine sounds like a way better story than Batman beating The Riddler near to death. But is there really any substance there? I suppose there could be if the idea were fleshed out and some kind of theme built around the idea of fetuses rebelling. Maybe all of these ideas John Smith throws out are just a game of Chinese whispers where he takes, say, a story by John Barth from Lost in the Funhouse about the thoughts of a sperm considering how the race toward life is pointless and, maybe, they should all just give up, and he turns it into the Electric Fetus Machine so that when I read it, I don't instantly think, "Isn't this a John Barth story?" Instead, I think, "That's a better sounding story than the one where the guy is raped by the Three of Wands!"

Meanwhile, Scarab spends his downtime watching Eleanor turn into a Dr. Seuss tree. Or a mushroom cloud (because remember the theme established by the beginning quote and title?!).

Try to ignore Scarab's ass in the previous scan. It's phenomenal. If you're training to be a comic book artist, you need to spend a lot of time getting the ass right. And once you do, you'll never get an ass in pants right again because all you have ever learned to draw is a naked ass which readers will know is actually under skin tight Lycra unless the colorist completely shits the bed. The guy in the jar on the cover is a Russian experiment in psychotropic warfare called a Gloryboy. There are three of them and they're some kind of pacifist dream come true. They constantly mutter Vertigo phrases in a tonal frequency that makes normal people vomit and shit themselves. It's the Brown Note theory of winning battles but taken to the Vertigo extreme. Instead of a whomping bass sound system, the noise comes form a naked albino in a jar composed of dream matter. Maybe they're not composed of dream matter. And maybe they're not about pacifism at all. It seems they've been altered and experimented in such a way that they can give voice to "the Scream over Hiroshima!" That sounds pretty bad. It's probably some form of psychic bombardment, comparable to a nuclear blast, which drives everybody in the vicinity completely insane. Or maybe it really will just be a thing that pacifies everybody because have you ever tried to do anything while shitting yourself? I mean other than read the ingredients in your shampoo. And even then, I bet you take your eyes off the bottle for a moment to really be in the moment. As an aside, do women find shitting as enjoyable as men or is it just the fecal matter pressing up against our prostate as it passes that makes a big shit feel so good? The Russians test the Scream Over Hiroshima on London. What it does is project into the minds of everybody who hears it the entire reality of what happened in Hiroshima. It's the truth of war. It's pure horror and death and consequence. It probably also makes everybody shit themselves. But when it's done, they'll all understand, on a physically primal level what war is. And the assumption is that everybody will finally be against it, I guess? I've been on Twitter for many years and the one thing I know is that even physically experiencing the horrors of the bombing of Hiroshima isn't going to change the minds of most idiots. I mean, if you didn't become a vegan pacifist hug machine after hearing Sting's song, "Russians," why would you become one after living the horror of fifty thousand lives snuffed out in an instant?! Some people, you just can't reach. London turns into a burning chaotic mess as everybody flips the fuck out from suddenly experiencing the most painful thing they've ever experienced. Scarab arrives after it's all over and everybody is afraid of him. Surprise! There's nothing he can do. He just observes the mess and meets a psychic who tells him that Eleanor is coming back. And isn't that the most important part of this eight issue story? That Louis the Scarab's love returns to him while the rest of the world falls into death and chaos? Scarab #6 Rating: C. Smith seeded this issue with more story ideas than story. The main story is an idea that really goes nowhere as well. It's a thought experiment. It's a minor philosophical musing. And Scarab doesn't do anything but distract himself from his wife's condition. But it also wasn't uninteresting. So I think that means it's a C? What am I, a high school teacher? I don't know how to grade shit!

[konekoryuugamine]

Riffing the Reef: “Good Neighbors”

This was written with the intent to start riffing apart Spongebob episodes since going about it in a general way would lead me to rant on everything under the sun. I will select episodes that need to be riffed, immediately and definitely, and begin riffing them as needed. Also, I will not take requests unless I can have a valid reason to riff them, other than a character being out of character. With that in mind, I am only criticizing the episodes and not the show in general. The show is credited to Stephen Hillenburg. Please enjoy.   

We can't go on and deny it. Spongebob Squarepants used to be one of the greatest and funniest cartoons on Nickelodeon, nay on the air. It took inspiration from 'Ren and Stimpy', another classic Nick cartoon, and the evidence remains to this day. It had pizzazz, humor, and a sort of distinct charm with Spongebob being a likable protagonist while still having moments of advanced stupidity. Sometimes he was in the right, other times he was in the wrong.    He always learned his lessons and kept being the same happy-go-lucky sponge we watched on Friday Night Nicktoons.    Sure, he had some downer moments, but he was always perked and peaked, and soon became a cultural icon.    But then . . . it all turned sour. How you may ask?    Let me answer that question with this small tangent.     The Spongebob Squarepants Movie was planned to be the final Spongebob Squarepants animation, with the creator himself having gone off to start a career in marine biology. Smart move. The film was made out to be Spongebob's biggest adventure, and it was: King Neptune, an adorkable princess, Mr. Krabs getting frozen, Squidward showing brains, Plankton actually winning for once, Dennis, David Hasselhoff successfully being shoehorned in, an epic quest, and a Twisted Sister parody song with awesome guitar riffs.

   The movie. Was awesome.    More importantly, it demonstrated how Spongebob had come of age in his own time and how he was ready to move on. He was even shown in the epilogue images doing the things he always does, but now with the respect and responsibility of being the manager of the Krusty Krab 2.    Given this information, continuing the series after the movie would have killed the movie. The lessons and experiences Spongebob had learned from the movie would not be remembered, the Krusty Krab 2 would be gone and everything would remain unchanged. That being said, since the movie was considered by many to be the true ending for Spongebob and friends, the fourth season was a large slap in the face.    To Nickelodeon, it was a business decision. The movie brought in a record amount of viewers and cash, and was generally well-recieved, aside from some negative criticism about the amount of singing and unnecessary filler in some parts, but that's beside the point. Hillenburg decided to move on from Spongebob and do what he wanted, but Nickelodeon decided to cash in on the movie's popularity, and created new seasons with new writers and artists for Spongebob Squarepants.    And since everyone watched the new episodes with the added expectation of it being like the movie, even the specials of Spongebob from season 4 onward, Nick gained the ratings and money needed to continue producing more seasons. Now the show is going on season nine, and the show has become what most would consider 'adult swim' channel entertainment.    Thus, the series became what is called in the trope community a 'franchise zombie'. This means the show is continuing down the same path as before, the Status Quo is God, and it is constantly brought back from old drenches.    I could go on about how Nick jumped the shark, how their newer writers were also old writers from previous seasons, and how most of the season four to five episodes were shorts cut up into 5-7 minutes each, but that would take all day and I want to tackle things like this one at a time. Not all at once.    Way too much vernacular for my fingers to type out.        Thus, I feel it necessary to state that many, if not all, of the post-movie Spongebob Squarepants episodes are crap.    Many names come to mind in how bad they are: "The Splinter". "Pet Sitter Pat". "Smooth Jazz at Bikini Bottom". "A Pal for Gary". "One Coarse Meal". "Squid Baby". "The Thing". "Driven to Tears". "Rule of Dumb". The list goes on from there.    These episodes and more are given the harshest of critiques for children's programming, and are often scrutinized by longtime fans of the series, if any still exist. The main reasons for these episodes' condemnation?    Their quality and quantity.    These episodes feature characters who are placed into horrible situations for no reason than to either be tortured, placed there just for the sake of plot convenience, or placed with a deus-ex-machina that makes everything completely unnecessary. Sometimes these characters are flanderized beyond belief, others are defined as jerks throughout, and in the case of Mr. Krabs, Spongebob and Patrick most of the time, are made completely unlikable.    These episodes also feature some, if not all, of the following: mean-spirited humor, anti-humor, disgusting shots, clunky dialogue, out of character moments, torture, gross out humor, gore, adult jokes that go over children's heads, severe sterotyping, insulting humor, false outcomes, cliche plot devices, and just plain bad writing in general.    Making episodes and cartoons like this in general is a bad idea. Kids watch this show not only because it's their demographic but because they like watching cartoons about funny things. Constantly writing and creating episodes where a character gets a toenail ripped off, or abuses a pet snail for no reason other than plot, immediately send the wrong messages to kids. They'll either be grossed out or be forbidden from watching a violent show by their own parents.    The creator himself even stated the show has become something that should be aired on 'adult swim'.    I can believe it. I also know my mom has banned my sisters from watching the show.    After re-watching a few episodes, I can see why.    If we take all of the previous statements made before and try to form a given conclusion, we always come to this: Spongebob Squarepants has become one of the worst cartoons in history. It has come to deserve this title wholeheartedly. And considering it has to compete with Family Guy, I'm not surprised at all.    Spongebob episode quality had a drop in many seasons, with seasons 6 and 7 being the most devious with the most infamous episodes. Season 4 had a few hits and misses, while season 5 had less hits and more tries. The once splendid animation to me has now become creepy and despondent, like it was purposely making me want to turn off . . . my . . .TV . . .    That may be their true intent, but I need my TV for anime.        Sorry, writers. No dice.    As to why I'm just now bringing up the episodes when earlier I was praising it is because a good show can have bad episodes. Fosters Home for Imaginary Friends had 'Everyone Knows It's Bendy', and Powerpuff Girls had 'Town and Out' and maybe 'PeePee Gees'. Spongebob Squarepants has had a good run, but the episodes have shrunken in quality and merit, and it reflects that through the writing and characters.    And, considering how everyone keeps talking about the show while I have had almost NO say in the matters, I feel it necessary to take a stance on some of the episodes that either tugged at my heartstrings or yanked out my heart and stomped on it. These episodes have to be taken apart, lest the writers of now never learn what the show did wrong.    That way, these mistakes can never be made again.    Hopefully.    One such episode that left me scratching my head was "Good Neighbors" from season 4.    I consider this to be the first truly 'bad' episode of Spongebob. Not only are some of the animations and screenshots disturbing, but Spongebob and Patrick become incredibly stupid for the sake of the plot while Squidward is placed as the butt of their torture and jokes. Another name for this from other critics is a 'Squidward torture porn'.    Now, before I go on, I have to admit: I hate Squidward. He's an egotistical, spineless and spiteful squid who often reviles at his own employment, longs for the fancy life and enjoys only his pursuits of arts. His artwork is terrible because he sees himself as perfection and sophistication, thus uses himself as a muse. This in turn makes his artworks hard to look at, and like what happened with 'Bold and Brash', get thrown away. He is shown as selfish, self-centered and a stickler in many an episode, and often reviles in Spongebob's happiness and positivity.    Now you see why I hate the guy.    Of course, he gained his moments of sympathy, such as when he is confronted with his high school rival Squilliam Fancyson, who seems to be his antithesis. Squilliam can even be stated as what Squidward wants to be: perfection, a god and even a fancy gentleman. However, something will always hold Squidward back, either by plot device, plot or some sort of personality trait. He does have moments where he impresses Squilliam, such as hosting the Krusty Krab as his own restaurant with Spongebob's help, or rocking out at the Bubble Bowl, also with Spongebob's help.    That being said, it is also wise to note that I feel Squidward placed too much hate onto Spongebob most of the time. The yellow cube was often doing his best to help the cephalopod, and often times his own quirks made the good deeds backfire. Episodes like "Are You Happy Now?" and "Tiki Dream" are two that come to mind with this.    I'd say a word about PATRICK, but THAT is for another time.    So, I've stated Squidward is a prick, can be a major jerk, and Spongebob often helps him see the light. It just takes a while for Squidward to see it. Hmm . . . Spongebob and Squidward are opposites in this case, but not with just being happy and sad. The two are two sides of the same coin; Squidward is mopey and pathetic, fed up with fulfilling his dreams while Spongebob tries his best to become a fulfilled character with goals and dreams.    Aside from that depth, and given that I've gone on this tangent with a purpose in mind, consider this: Squidward has often liked Spongebob, and admits it in certain episodes like "SB-129".    In "Good Neighbors", however, Spongebob is showing his usual brand of stupidity and naivety, while bothering Squidward, who later yells loudly at Patrick and Spongebob for being horrible neighbors. Something once touched on in "Naughty Nautical Neighbors" and "Opposite Day".    Why did that work there and be funny while here it was a bad idea?    A few reasons, actually.    "Good Neighbors" revolves around Squidward wanting to just enjoy a nice, quiet day, like a previous episode of Spongebob called "Squid's Day Off".    The first problem is this episode is borrowing and/or stealing a direct plot line or idea from a previous episode. This is considered rehashing, and this is a major author no-no. You never rehash an old storyline or plotline unless you can expand on it, make it better and more detailed, or solve the problems that were with it before.    Rewriting it into a newer season with a different style and name is still rehashing, and looks like copy-pasting on paper. In other words, THIS IS CHEATING.    Furthermore, "Squid's Day Off" did this well to begin with, because Squidward's conscience kept playing with him. It was actually funny to see him worry his head off about things Spongebob would never do, such as destroy the Krusty Krab. He even admitted he wanted his job back at the end of the episode because he was worried.    Showing morality with the character is the best way to connect with the audience. Much better than some cheap laugh.    But no; Squidward ends up planning out the perfect Sunday, and Spongebob and Patrick come out of nowhere to ruin it.    The second problem with this episode is Spongebob and Patrick in general. They are flanderized to be stupid and naive as possible, when in previous episodes, Spongebob was accepting of limits and wants for others of the sea. He saw his own faults when he shrunk everyone in Bikini Bottom, and stopped himself from doing dangerous things with Patrick in "Life in a Day". He knows limits and accepts them.    In this episode, however, Spongebob is completely ignorant of Squidward's frustration and anger, nor does he seem to be aware of his own morality index. What he was doing is wrong, he should have known it was wrong, but he did it anyway.    Patrick being there is more of a double-marker of him being stupid for stupid's sake. That's another nitpicky rant for another time, but for now, having there just furthers the stupidity.    The two constantly barge in on Squidward as he tries to relax on his only day off, (in a comfy and casual way no less, which actually looks peaceful), and cause trouble for him. The two end up being told to paint polka dots on trees and accidentally paint Squidward to where his eyes are hurt and he looks ill.    They steal his fancy pedicure and Sunday time relaxing, ruin his Sunday paper, and drive him mad, and for what, you may ask?    To let Squidward become the leader of their Secret Royal Order of the Good Neighbor Lodge.    Again, this was touched on before, and done better, in other previous episodes of Spongebob. This episode is a continuity rehashing of over ten separate episodes of the previous seasons, with less humor and more anger filled dialogue. Squidward ended up deserving the hurt he needed in those other episodes as well because he acted like a jerk in "Club Spongebob", "Naughty Nautical Neighbors" and "Squid's Day Off".    Moreso, Spongebob, and Patrick just randomly break into Squidward's house, wearing fezes, and just decide to annoy him right when he wants to relax. This is a case of plot convenience gone wrong and a Squidward Torture Porn in the making.    Furthermore, Squidward only wanted to relax, something we all can relate to. He was only trying to be himself and enjoy a day off from his terrible job with a terrible boss. Mr. Krabs, I'm looking at you! He had no reason to be tormented or tortured by the two of them. This came out of nowhere for him.    You could say it was because he tossed Spongebob out of his window by saying it was Sunday and he didn't have to go to work, but again, it makes Squidward look like he's in the wrong because Spongebob is portrayed as being in the right.    Thus, the third problem here is who the real protagonist and antagonist of this episode really is.    Squidward, Spongebob and Patrick: who is the real jerk?    I say it varies in interpretations, given Squidward is still his pre-movie self, and Spongebob and Patrick are dumber than hell, but either way, it falls the outcome of the episode is still the same.    The only saving grace of the episode is that Squidward manages to pierce their veils of idiocy by yelling at the two of them at the top of his lungs. He lets ALL his anger and frustration out. That is the only time within these newer seasons that ANYONE has managed to break through their idiocy.    Savor the moment, people. SAVOR IT.    The final part of the episode, or what I consider the undoing of the episode, is pretty much the reason I thought it was entertaining as a kid. Now, I find it cruel and unusual. Squidward finds an ad for an advanced security system and purchases it with the intention of keeping the two knuckleheads out of his house for good.    After installation, the two materialize into his house with an apology cake that says "Sorry for Bugging You So Much".    This is another making or breaking of the episode, surprisingly. They realize what they did was wrong, and they accepted it as such. However, Squidward is still reasonably upset by the fact the security system did not get rid of them. They even bring in a cake, but the fact is the end up barging in, but still pose no real threats. Had this been handled well, Squidward would have ACCEPTED their apology and admitted he was in the wrong as well for being so overly upset.    However, Status Quo is God dictates he must get punished and get severely angry at them for coming in, and at the security system for not responding to their annoyance. It goes haywire and the system hurts Squidward in the process.    AND then the cake flies on the machine, it goes haywire and . . . makes Squidward's house come to life and destroy Bikini Bottom . . .    This is COMPLETELY unnecessary, and completely over the top. There are so many questions for this and a lot of writing plot holes here. If the security system was on the inside of his house, how did the house grow arms and legs? Why would the system go haywire when cake hits it when drinks and beverages would do far more significant damage than smear the screen with frosting? Why does Squidward seem in the wrong here? And . . . if Mr. Krabs is so cheap, how the hell did Squidward afford that much of a security system?    The point remains; this is completely unnecessary. It only serves to cause more trouble for Squidward, get him kicked out of his own house, have it destroy Bikini Bottom with Patrick and Spongebob inside, and cause the terrible conclusion of this episode. I'm not going to go over how contrived this is or how forced this is, mostly because I think I've already covered it before.    An angry mob - why is it always an angry mob? - forms outside of his house and is placed at fault for causing the damage. Then he gets a court summons to clean up the town every Sunday for the rest of his life. Spongebob and Patrick get it as well, and they take it as naively as possible. 

   I think Squidward’s look in the final scene summed everything up nicely. He was stuck in purgatory he could never relieve himself from.     Overall, this episode is the basic example of a Squidward Torture Porn, and of modern Spongebob episodes to boot. The lack of consistent writing is jarring, their behavior is off-putting and the whole episode is mean-spirited to Squidward, even if all he wanted to do was relax. There are a few moments that can make or break the episode, but given the overall quality of the episode, it's more weighed down with them than weighed up.

   It’s an indicator of things to come in the world of Spongebob and should have set off alarm bells for us.     Good Neighbors is often called one of the worst episodes of Spongebob now, and I can firmly see why.

   Although, I can see much worse episodes on the horizon from later seasons that could possibly contend with it.