#Atomic Blonde Fic

[tragicallywicked]

shadows of deception

by tragicallywicked

Summary:

In the unforgiving world of espionage, Lorraine Broughton finds herself entangled in a web of emotional conflict. As a dedicated MI6 agent, she grapples with the demands of her duty, striving to maintain her cover and fulfill her mission in Cold War Berlin. Yet, her heart yearns for the warmth she has found in the arms of Delphine Lasalle, a French operative. In the delicate balance between loyalty and desire, Lorraine is torn between protecting Delphine and safeguarding the secrets that could jeopardize their relationship.

Notes:

Here's a drabble of them, because apparently they can't ever leave my brain. Hope you enjoy!

The Berlin nights were cold, and the city itself seemed to hold secrets in every shadow. Lorraine Broughton, an MI6 agent, navigated the streets with a practiced grace, her eyes scanning for any sign of danger. She knew the risks when she had a mission to complete, but tonight had nothing to do with the mission.

Amongst the tension and relentless intrigue that defined their lives, Lorraine Broughton sought solace in the tender embrace of Delphine Lasalle, a French operative whose very presence radiated a warmth that could melt the frostiest of hearts (Lorraine's included). In the shelter of their connection, a profound sense of solace took root, as if their souls had found a refuge from the storm. It was a flame that burned with an intensity that defied the frigid surroundings, a magnetic force drawing them closer with each passing moment.

Lorraine never found herself to be an addict of anything. She enjoyed her Stoli on ice quite regularly, but her line work asked for something strong to numb the pain (both mental and physical). But she had no other vices. Yet, Delphine was proving to defy that understanding Lorraine had about herself. Four nights in a row on a mission was against any and all rules Lorraine (or any special agent) had about involvements during missions—even when they were purely about the mission (which wasn't the case in point anymore). 

To make matters worst, tonight was the fifth night.

She couldn't resist when Delphine telephoned her at the hotel. They arranged to meet a club nearby, loud and crowded like the first time, where they sipped on vodka and leaned on each other's ears to be heard. Lorraine's lips always teasing Delphine's earlobe, and Delphine's breath taunting the hairs on Lorraine's neck. Their connection crackled with electricity, an intricate dance of passion and vulnerability that wove an enchanting tapestry around them. In Delphine's eyes, Lorraine glimpsed a depth of understanding that transcended words. They spoke a language reserved only for them, a symphony of unspoken desires and unyielding devotion.

Within the haven of their shared moments, Lorraine and Delphine discovered an escape from the harsh reality that enveloped them. Even as they crawled in each other's arms at yet another club bathroom. With Delphine pressing Lorraine against the wall this time, even though it was the blonde's fingers tugged inside the french's clothes to drive her wild. In each other's arms, they sought respite from the treacherous world of espionage, where trust was a scarce commodity and danger lurked at every corner. There, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, they found a sanctuary—an oasis of silent promises and breathy moans that nurtured their broken spirits and replenished their strength.

Dephine wasn't as broken and lived as Lorraine. Broughton had been in this line of business since always whilst Delphine had been fished out from the world into this tumultuous chaos. Lorraine felt for her. She had no time for it, yet she wanted to valiantly protect Delphine's spirits, to guard her joyful soul from the war and danger that surrounded them. It was dangerous to do it, to open herself up to the point she cared. Even if the words of worry were never spoken, it was there in the way Lorraine would look at her after sex, or how she would kiss her just a little bit harder and hold her a little bit stronger when Delphine would utter out something foolish that could definitely get her killed.

In the intimate moments they shared, the walls that shielded them from the outside world crumbled, revealing the raw vulnerability that lay beneath her hardened exteriors. Delphine's whispered confessions about her admiration toward Lorraine (her wit, her strength, her delicious body—Delphine loved it all like the French did most things, passionately), and their stolen kisses bore witness to the depths of their connection, a bond forged amidst the crucible of secrecy and danger.

Within the cocoon of their love, whether that was Lorraine's hotel room or Delphine's flat (wherever suited them best on each day), time seemed to stand still. Their hearts beat in unison, a rhythmic melody that echoed in sync with the desires that swelled within them. The outside world faded into insignificance as their bodies entwined, each touch an affirmation of the flames that burned within their souls.

In the embrace of Delphine's arms, Lorraine found something she hadn't had in so long—an anchor that grounded her amidst the tempest of her mission. The warmth that emanated from Delphine's touch thawed the icy tendrils of fear and uncertainty that gripped her heart. It was a precious respite from the relentless pursuit of truth and the unyielding demands of her profession. Together, Lorraine and Delphine navigated the intricate dance of love and secrecy, cherishing the stolen moments they could claim as their own. In those stolen fragments of time, they found solace, a flickering light that illuminated the darkest corners of their lives.

But duty, like a merciless sentinel, stood in the way of their happiness. Lorraine was torn between Delphine and her commitment to the mission. Her superiors demanded unwavering loyalty, an unyielding devotion to the cause. It gnawed at her, twisting her heart in conflicting directions.

Nights turned into days, and Lorraine found herself wrestling with her emotions. Every stolen moment with Delphine felt like a lifeline, a fragile thread keeping her grounded. Yet, the weight of her mission pressed upon her shoulders, threatening to snap that connection and plunge her into darkness. As the mission grew more perilous, doubts began to seep into Lorraine's mind. Whispers of betrayal echoed through the corridors of her thoughts. She couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that someone close to her had ulterior motives, a hidden agenda that threatened everything she held dear. Delphine, with her doe-like eyes and gentle touch, became both the source of Lorraine's strength and the root of her turmoil. The connection they shared was a dance on a knife's edge, the delicate balance between trust and deception. Lorraine questioned if she could truly confide in Delphine or if their connection was merely a web of lies.

In a dimly lit room, Lorraine stood face to face with Delphine, their eyes locked in a silent battle of lust and suspicion. The air crackled with tension, the room heavy with unspoken words. Each word they would share held the power to change everything. Driven by a desire to protect not only Delphine but also the mission, Lorraine chose to believe was in fact the character she had studied—fresh and naive in this spy business. In a way, she was letting her emotions mingle with duty, but every time Delphine's fingers intertwined in her hair and their mouths slid together it felt like destinies colliding, like two stars in a cosmic dance, and Lorraine could tell the whole world to just fuck up and explode. She didn't care about nothing else but Delphine's pulse against her lips when she went down on her for the billionth time that week.

When the mission came to an end, Lorraine knew she had done what was necessary, but at a great cost. The bittersweet taste of victory clung to her mouth, mingling with the ache in her heart, but it was Delphine's taste that lingered on her soul—the constant reminder of yet another sacrifice. She had lost something irreplaceable, a connection that could never be mended. In the cold London night, Lorraine walked away, leaving behind the warmth and passion she had found in Delphine's arms. The echoes of their love lingered, an indelible mark on her soul. She knew that even in the shadowy world of spies, where loyalties shifted like sand, their connection would forever remain a flicker of light in her memory.

It was in Montana, when she returned to the states, that Lorraine saw Delphine again. Sitting on a fence by a blue house with white window. Lorraine had grown up there, she recalled that much from her childhood. But how had Delphine tracked down the safehouse in the states? She would have to give Emmett an earful, he was her handler and the only one aware of that asset that was Lorraine's even though it stood under an alias for the sole purpose of not being found. Delphine was too new to have tracked the place down on her own in less than a week. How had she managed to lure the white mare that stood beside her, head petted by the long fingers she had? She was Lorraine's favorite horse and quite the untamable animal (much like Lorraine herself in a sense. How in hell did she look so damn pretty in jeans and boots and the Montana sky? There was no answer to that one.

She asked her none of those questions, instead slipping into the space between her legs and watching her as she lowered to kiss her. (Delphine was never the taller one between them, but switch was throughly appreciated.) There was not a need for answers, the only thing Lorraine craved was Delphine.

When she performed CPR on Delphine back in Berlin, she thought she would be upset at her for not staying. Lorraine had made sure Delphine was alive and breathing, she had kissed her temples and then she had slipped away with the envelope on the counter addressed to herself. She didn't stay and Delphine was a poet, an artistic soul. Lorraine assumed she would not wish to see her any longer. Precisely why she had left Europe without tracking her down. There was no need for further heartbreak. The mission was complete and Delphine was safe. But she was there now and all Lorraine could think of was taking her inside the house and burying her head on the pillow while she laid naked and tangled on clean sheets and Delphine's limbs.

Which was exactly what they did.

#atomic blonde #lorraine broughton #delphine lasalle #sofia boutella #charlize theron #delphine la salle #lorraine x delphine #fanfiction #fanfic #mine #Canon Compliant #But also not #Post-Canon Fix-It #fix it fic

[napollya-inspiration]

atomic blonde au

I kind of want to start a series about writing this fic just because I can. I make no promises of finishing it. I just think that my process for this will be so different - as I mostly adjust the process to each fic that's pretty normal for me - but this has been baking for the past 6 years.

A big part of why I want to write this is to explore something I kind of touched on in Tangled Up, which I wrote in 2017. That fic needs some heavy editing from my perspective today, but I started to deal with the dynamic of Gaby being East German and getting mixed up with Napoleon as an American and Illya as a Russian and what that would mean for her. How do her sentiments differ from theirs as someone who got into the spy business to get out of the GDR?

“He’s a Russian.” She said like it explained things. “What do you mean?” “I am from East Germany.” She looked around for a moment and stopped. “Look, they say Russia is our big brother. But not in the way big brothers can be protective and super cool. More in the way big brothers can be oppressing and authoritative. Maybe even abusing.” She said in a hushed voice but with a stress that convinced Napoleon she meant every word. It made sense. Very few of the East Germans loved the Russians or what they had done to their country. The fear of the Stasi at all times and the propaganda education didn’t help. “Are you afraid?” He asked, honestly concerned. “No, no.” Gaby started walking again. Her tone lightened. “Illya is incredibly soft, although he may not look like it. Excerpt from Tangled Up

Again, I would improve a lot of things about this fic today, but this was me scratching the surface of a dynamic that I know from growing up in what used to be East Germany. Don't get me wrong, the wall had been down for ten years when I was born, but I felt ripple effects even as I was growing up. My mom was 18 when the wall fell. I had a history teacher who used to patrol the border. My parents hadn't ever eaten a kiwi until they were 20 and had no clue how you ate one when they got it from the store. My grandpa's brother escaped to the West and doesn't talk to my family anymore.

It's very much a reality of growing up German.

This is what I love about Atomic Blonde. Sure, the plot is awesome, but you can see the country being reunited as a backdrop. While all countries continue to hunt and kill each other, the Cold War "ends."

It's definitely something I want to bring into the fanfic. The surreality of the divided city. I already posted this snippet from the WIP, so I don't feel bad about it, but the way I start to introduce this dynamic is through Napoleon's musings as his plane descends on Berlin.

Out of all the places, Berlin is one of the dirtiest to spend your time as a spy. Nowhere else is the density of spies per capita this high.  And it shows.  Napoleon despises it. The desperation of the West German Citizens holding onto their city and being fed by the West like a helpless infant with spoons that are literal airplanes. And then there’s the desperation of the East Germans, fenced in by their own government and longing for the American dream like it was going to fix anything. And above all, every fucking government trying to profit from their collective desperation.  When a hundred and sixty yards-wide missile field divides a city, you know to be rather careful where you step.

Fun fact: you can see how Berlin used to be divided to this day if you look at it from above at night:

Let me know if you are interested in this kind of behind-the-scenes content!

#napollya #tmfu au #tmfu fic #atomic blonde au #who won (and what was the fucking game anyway) #nici writes

[hereticdrws]

A piece i made for @kiraman fic which yall should definitely check out at

://kiraman.tumblr.com/post/743676498388697088/𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧-𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤-𝐌𝐢𝐳𝐮-𝐀𝐔-𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭-art-by-the

(Trust me it's AMAZING)

The piece:

(Inspired by the poster for atomic blonde)

Also a quick snip from said fic. Tw!!! Murder

She clings to her like she is her lifeline, frantically, blindly, with both hands. It is hanging over her, the loss, the death, all that guilt choked up in her throat, screaming its furious grief, not letting her breathe.

She thinks of that newspaper article she saw Geraldine read over breakfast, and the woman who had her throat cut open, the ribbon of her hair soaked in blood, they had used it to strangle her, and Mizu had thought about it all morning, her mind obsessively circling back to it, horrified at the idea that something so fragile could be used to end a life, just like that.

It feels like that sometimes, inside of her body, she thinks. like she is walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like she is hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. she keeps saying - at least she went fast… I am so lucky she did not suffer,

I am so lucky, so lucky… (what a deaf thought). The idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.

#blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu #bes mizu #art #bes x reader #blue eye samurai x reader #digital art #blue eye samurai fanart #sketchbook

[ticklish-n-stuff]

Hiya! For August tickletober, may I please request Day 1 with Lee! Dazai and ler! Kunikida?

Dazai cannot stand tickle anticipation and will giggle in literal seconds😂. Kunikida knows this, so when the two are in private, he'll use it against Dazai as punishment for annoying him during work.

Feel free to decline and have a fantastic day!

Tickletober day #1: Anticipation

WOOO FIRST TKTOBER FIC EVERYONE CLAP

Starting with everyone's fave suicidal maniac and idealist~🥰

Hope you like it! :D

___________________________________________

Dazai x Kunikida (interpret as you wish)

Lee: Dazai

Ler: Kunikida

Warnings: Tickles!

___________________________________________

It was like any other day at the ADA. Ranpo snacking on his stash of sweets, Yosano torturing- healing her patients, Atsushi helping out Kyoka with her job, Kunikida following his schedule to a T, and then there was Dazai. Being a pile of lazy bones as usual. If he wasn’t tormenting his coworkers for his amusement, then he was usually napping at his desk or at the couch. I guess he was feeling extra lazy today as he was sprawled out all over his chair, sleeping like a tired kitten, or a mangled corpse

At the sight, Kunikida let out an audible groan. You’d think by now he’d be used to Dazai’s antics, but it always managed to get on his last nerves.

“Dazai, stop slacking off—“

The brunnette’s whole body jolted awake, looking down to see Kunikida’s hand resting on his thigh.

“What was that about?” the blonde quirked up a brow curiously at the sudden reaction.

Usually, Dazai was one to always have a witty remark up his sleeve, or bandage, but this time he didn’t know what to say. How could he admit that Kunikida touching his thigh felt… tickly?

“You just surprised me is all. Now, let me go back to sleeeeep~”

Still, Dazai was pretty good at masking his embarrassment by acting like his usual, annoying self. This of course got the blonde fuming once more.

“You still have work to do- Are you even listening?!”.

Dazai had slumped back down on his seat, the nerve of this man!

“I’ve had enough of your childish antics, Dazai. Either you wake up, or I’ll make you” Kunikida’s voice sounded a bit different at the end. It wasn’t his usual annoyed tone or anger. In a way, there was a sense of confidence in his voice. As if he knew what buttons to press, or in this case, which spot to caress. The blonde’s hand positioned itself over Dazai’s thigh once more. The brunnette shuddered slightly but reamined stubbornly asleep.

“Fine then, you asked for this” there was a slight tug at Kunikida’s lips as he got to work. His fingertips slowly stroking up and down Dazai’s thigh. It was so gentle, so slow, like he had all the time in the world. Yet on the inside, Dazai could feel every atom on his body screaming at how ticklish it felt.

“Kunikidaaa…~” Dazai whined out, but didn’t bother to move away or try to stop him. Perhaps too tired? Or maybe something else. But that didn’t matter, the goal was to get Dazai to crack, and Kunikida was determined to see it through.

“What’s wrong, ticklish?”.

How could a simple word send butterflies all over Dazai’s tummy? And the ligjht, consistent stroking of his thigh was starting to drive him insane. He knew that this teasing was just prolonging his unevitable demise, so why couldn’t Kunikida get it over with already?! The thought of Kunikida tickling him to death sounded very appealing, after all.

Dazai was broken out of his inner struggle as he felt Kunikida do the egg crack motion over his knee. “gyAH! Kuniii, just tickle me already!-“ a soft gasp escaped his mouth once his words settled in. An evil grin settled on Kunikida’s lips, knowing so well that Dazai could never handle the anticipation.

“If you say so~”.

“Wait wait- KUNIKIDA!!!”.

The shriek that escaped Dazai’s mouth surely got everyone else’s attention, he wouldn’t live that down for a long time. But atleast now he could focus on Kunikida’s wiggly fingers~

___________________________________________

#augtickletober2023 #tickletober2023 #bsd #bsd tickle #bsd tickle fic #dazai osamu #kunikida doppo #lee!dazai #ler!kunikida

[theoneandonlyneonleon]

AAH! HUMANS!

my rottmnt human designs (and redesigns)✨✨ (feat. My shitty fucking camera that cannot correctly capture colors for the fucking life of it!)

Leo✨✨

Donnie✨✨

Mikey✨✨

No Raph :[

Ill get to him eventually- (maybe)

Additional ramblings below 👇👇👇

Leo:

I only changed a few things about Leo, because I generally liked the design, there were just a few things that irked me.

The outfit- I liked my previous outfit for Leo, but it didn't feel like something he'd wear everyday. Casually, maybe. I took inspiration from the episode Air Turtle and instead went with a basketball jersey (bc he plays basketball in my human au) the skinny jeans stay, bc he's a whore.

The hair- I originally did blonde tips on his hair, but decided I liked the brunette better. The blonde also are his face look really busy when paired up with the vitilago for his eye markings. I did however color his front two little strand thingies red to mimic his eye markings.

Donnie:

Donnie changed quite a bit from his original design, ill add the og design for reference.

Okay so-

The outfit- I kinnnnda hated his og outfit. The neon green shirt is a massive eyesore, the khaki shorts. Just no. I kept of the Atomic Lass shirt, but made it purple instead, to better match Donnie's color palate, and went from tan shorts to black cargo pants. I feel like Donnie needed more pockets to carry stuff in, and it looks better, from a fashion standpoint. I also gave him demonias bc duh.

The hair- I swapped him from locs to an afro for a few reasons. One, the reason I dont draw eyebrows is bc I draw eyes so comically large that they just don't fit on the face, and I wanted Don to have his trademarked brows, so I picked a hairstyle that covers his eyes, and allows space for dem brows so he can still emote. Also with a less detailed style I was able to add his goggles without it looking too busy.

Mikey:

Ive kind had a vision for Mike since the beginning. I wanted him to wear something versatile he can move around in easily, but also something colorful and fun to match his personality.

The outfit- I wanted something artsy and fun, but also light. So I picked a cropped hoodie (ik its a vest with an undershirt in the pic; I changed it after taking it) and a pair of shorts and a cool belt. I feel like Mikey is definitely a fun socks guy, so I gave him some striped socks with the turtles' colors on them.

The hair- so in case it doesn't show in my art, Mikey's hair is supposed to be a frohawk type deal- kinda like this

I picked this bc I just thought it looked cool when I was experimenting with drawing different hairstyles.

Raph:

Ive been putting off drawing Raph, bc I dunno why, but no matter what I do, he also comes out looking....... Questionable.

Extra Note- I changed my human au comic to a fic because: one, I don't have the time or energy to draw a comic. Two, I like to get detailed with my writing and you can't do that with a comic.

Thanks for listening to me ramble ^ ^

Please reblog my art <33

#leodraws #leoslastbraincell #please for the love of aphrodite please reblog #art #my art #digital art #drawings #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #unpause rottmnt #rise leo #rise donnie #rise mikey #art ramblings #tmnt ramblings

[thatbanditqueen]

Basic Training

I Don't Date Soldiers

A new fic, possibly a new WIP, about Elvis' life at Fort Hood. Let me know what you think.

Summary: Bess is a smart, young secretary working for the Commander of Army Intelligence training at Fort Hood, dreaming of a life beyond the military one she has always known. That's why she doesn't date soldiers, they only break your heart, and she is looking ahead to something better. One Friday night in March, she stumbles in to the new draftee who's turned the base upside down, and in a moment of weakness, decides to try and help him sleep. Just this once.

Warnings: None, fluffy and angst combined, but innocent. For now. There are a lot of typos.

Word Count: 4.8 K

Some notes: Probably good to know the acronyms, every Army base has a chain of command, and at the top sit the Commanding Officer (CO), the Executive Officer (XO), and a bunch of other officers, of different rank denoted by their ascending O rank, from 1 to 10. WAC - Women's Army Corps, established in WWII, their was a sizeable WAC presence at Fort Hood in 1958. Oh, and Killeen is the closest city to Fort Hood and Austin, TX is about an hour away. Also I really wanted this to take place on a Friday night, but also have had Elvis at the base for two nights, so I gave myself creative license to make March 30, 1958 a Friday. Just don't look it up and we'll be fine.

This fic was inspired by the writing prompt:

Many thanks to my beautiful sister-wives-in-arms whose advice support and love make being an Elvis girl possible and fun, @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @from-memphis-with-love @ellie-24 @powerofelvis @missmaywemeetagain and @whositmcwhatsit, from whom I have stolen her trademarked description of Elvis' awkward manner of kissing half on the cheek half on the lips like a goofy weirdo who was never taught how to kiss right so he decided to make up his own style. And thanks for reading and connecting with me here, the Elvis fandom is the best and I love our community!

Friday, March 30, 1958

9 p.m. at Sal's Cafe

Bess pushed her veal marsala from one side of her plate to the other, feeling the vibrations of her fork scrape across the bottom of the plate. The place checked off all the requisite Italian restaurant requirements: checkered table cloth, candle in an old wine bottle, violin player sawing away at a classical reinterpretation of “That’s Amore.” But the brown sauce, and the meat it was congealing around, was inedible. It was the sort of food that begged the question “why not stay in and cook at home?”

“I said, don’t you think, Bess honey? You follow that stuff, dontcha?”

Bess looked up at her friend Dori’s face, realizing she had drifted off daydreaming of a future far away from Killeen, away from her job at Fort Hood, away from the Army, away from officers, like the ones sitting across from them. Away from soldiers in general.

“What, Khrushchev? Well, I think we all knew he wasn’t going to take the threat laying down.”

Dori hit Bess' shoulder lightly, smiling at their dates, two officers from Army Intelligence.

“No, y’all will havta excuse my friend here, she still thinks she’s studying political science in Austin. You’d think a year of civilian life would make her normal again, huh?”

Dori flipped her blonde hair and drawled on.

“No, silly goose, no one here is interested in that Russian stuff, we’re talking about Mike Todd. What do you think poor Elizabeth Taylor is going to do now that her husband's dead?”

Bess tried very hard not to roll her eyes. Dori was right, she read the movie gossip magazines, but her friend’s distraught, serious expression had made her think they were discussing something with a little more gravitas. The recent atomic weapons testing, or Russian political shifts, the stuff at the top of her New York Times front page everyday. But why would any one in the Army want to talk about that?

Bess smiled at her date and tried to focus on the conversation at hand. Later in the bathroom, Dori chided her while applying a fresh coat of lipstick onto Bess’ mouth.

“I wish you would try to be polite.”

“Dori, you know I am breaking my rule here with you. I don’t date soldiers. I have two goals I'm focusing on: get into law school and shake off these twenty pounds. ”

Bess rubbed her hands over her waist.

“Rules were made to be broken, Bessie Pie, and you look great, men like a girl with a jiggle, I think you look like a brunette Jayne Mansfield.”

“Hardly. You’re Mansfield and Monroe rolled into one.”

“Don't sell yourself short. I know you were fixin' to marry that boy last year, and now all you talk about is law school this, politics that. Don’t you wanna get married? We're not getting any younger.”

“I’m twenty three. Same as you.”

“Eggg zactly. Sure, it seems young now, but you're gonna blink and be thirty and single, with nothing but your degrees to keep you company. You already have a good job now. I just know you’d set this law school thing aside if you met the right guy.”

“Of course I wanna get married, someday. But not now. You’re the one in a hurry to quit your job and settle down, not me.”

“I don’t have a job.”

“See, you’re half way there, Doreen. Me, I’m not giving up my goals for Captain Smarmy out there. How did you even meet these ones?”

Dori steadied her self on Bess’ shoulder.

“Stop moving, or this lipstick won’t be straight. I met them outside the PX, I thought they were cute. Arnie knew who you were, he was the one who suggested we all go out. He really likes you, I can tell - “

“Yeah, he was just in my pop's office lobbying for an assignment, he doesn’t like me. He is using me.  There’s a difference, I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

“So what if he was? Maybe he saw you there and couldn’t get you out of his mind. He’s good looking, smart, he’s already an O3 —”

Bess stopped her friend’s hand, and fixed her hair in the mirror, pushing up her bust and sighing at the rounder curves that had been widening at her waist since she’d graduated from college and settled into a very sedentary, very single, and currently very celibate life living back at home and working for her father. She turned to look at Dori who was waiting to blot Bess' lips with a tissue like the sweet girl she always had been. For Dori, a fresh coat of perfectly applied lipstick fixed all of life’s problems.

“Look, Captain whatever out there is only here for six months or so for training, then he's off to Heidelberg. That’s why I don’t date soldiers anymore. I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’m waiting for you to catch up.”

Bess gave her dark curls one last fluff.

“How’d you get these suckers to come out on a double date anyway? They aren’t scared of your father?”

Dori avoided eye contact as she smoothed her blonde bouffant and pursed her lips, then looked at Bess in the mirror.

“They don’t know.”

“How do they not know your father is the CO?”

Dori shrugged, then pinched Bess as they walked out of the ladies’ room.

“Don’t tell, ok? Let’s just have fun. What if you fall madly in Arnie? And he asked you to marry him and go to Germany with him?”

Bess snorted as they walked out to the men waiting for them in the restaurant lobby and Dori's eyes took on a knowing look.

“Hmm, so that’s big fat ol ‘no’ to dancing tonight, I’m guessin’?”

Bess nodded.

“Please at least tell me you aren’t going home to work on that boring research project?”

Bess smiled mischievously. “Professor Blotke agreed to help me, it’s going to be my submission sample for Georgetown. Papa took Mama to D.C. with him for his meetings, so I have the house practically to myself. It's just Kay and me, and she’s probably already asleep. I just have to grab a new typewriter back on post, I busted mine.”

Dori shook her disapproving of Bess’ plans for the night, then turned to greet their escorts with her usual vivacious pleasantries. Bess smiled at Dori's ability to interact with the men so casually and intimately, sliding her hands through both of officer's arms as they walked to the car. She considered how different she was from her girlfriend, despite the fact that they were both twenty three year old daughters of career Army officers. Every relationship she'd been in seemed to occur in spite of her inability to feel at ease or flirt with boys.

The conversation turned to recent events at Fort Hood as they walked.

“So,” Dori exhaled, squeezing herself against her date. “Has anyone seen Elvis yet?”

Bess pounded her foot a little harder into the concrete, hearing that name now provoked instant irritation.

“Ughh, no. It’s only been what, three days, and honestly I wish he’d been sent somewhere else for training. All I do is answer calls about him. It is driving me up the wall and I can’t get anything done. He’s turned the whole base upside down. Must have been a hundred cars parked outside the main gate, all scattered around the fields. It’s a security issue. I just —"

“Well, that’s not his fault Bess, and I think it's great. I wanna to meet him, don’t y’all?” Dori looked at the officers on her arms.

Arnie smiled a big dumb smile as he looked at Dori’s bouncing breasts and agreed. “I think it’s good for the Army, boy, I just - I just wish we could get the other enlisted to lay off him.”

“What do you mean?”

Bess felt the pit of her stomach tense as she thought of the thousands of green little boys running around base on edge with no external distractions for entertainment.

“Yeah, the boys’ have been giving him a hard time, shouting out when he runs during PT, or at the chow hall. There’s some concern he hasn’t been coming to eat all his meals cuz a the way they’ve been taunting him.”

Bess sighed, her irritation dissipating momentarily into sympathy as she considered how hungry and lonely Elvis Presley must be. Then she remembered that she was hungry, hungry because all the good restaurants had been filled up tonight by people trying to catch a glimpse of him. Elvis was the reason the only benefit from breaking her vow against dating a soldier, the free meal, had been a bust. She wondered if it was going to be this crazy around town for the next six months while he was here.

“I feel sorry for the poor kid, I do. But I still wish he was some other base’s problem.”

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

Back on post, Arnie asked Bess for the fourth time if she wouldn’t like him to come help her carry the typewriter to her car. Then they could meet the others at the night club.

Beth pursed her lips with a demure smile.  “I think I can handle a typewriter, Captain, I use them all day.”

Dori chimed in with a reminder that it was Friday night and they were only young once, but Bess put them off, grinning as she heard Dori exclaim that both men would just have to dance with her all night.

“Two gorgeous officers all to myself,  what eva shall I do?”

Free at last, Bess drove her car to the supply building, and snuck in the back door carrying the type writer that she had been using at home, the big sticker along the bottom reading “Property of U.S. Army” evident as she held the machine under her arm to unlock the door. Bess slipped off her heels at the door so that they didn’t click down the dark hallways, and she easily scurried in to slip the broken machine into the repair center and help herself to a new model, grabbing a few spools of typewriter ribbon and a package of paper on the way out. Balancing everything as she locked up to leave,  Bess smiled at the cool air on her sweaty arm pits and laughed to herself for pulling this stealth operation in a tight green cocktail dress and pumps.

“A better use of this outfit anyway, I’d say.” She muttered to herself, sheathing her right foot back into her white heel with a sense of pride that she’d managed to get in, get the new machine, and would probably be home before 11 p.m. Bess had propped her self up against the building to slip her left foot into the other shoe when she heard a voice behind her call out.

“Uh, hey, need any help there?”

Startled, she almost toppled over, catching herself at the last moment by dropping everything in her hands.

“OWW fuck fuck fuck a duck!

She screamed in pain as the typewriter clanged down on her bare left foot and she almost knocked heads with the tall, gangly soldier who squatted down on front of her at the same time to try and help her retrieve her supplies.

"Oh man, I sure am sorry, listen -"

“At ease, uh Private,” she glanced briefly at the rank on his uniform while straightening up, holding her foot in pain and taking in the view below her. The paper knob at the top of the new machine had broken off completely.

“Fuck, this is what I get, I suppose,” she laughed, looking up find herself across from the shy, inquisitive face of Elvis Presley.

“Oh fuck a duuuuuck.”

Bess forgot about the typewriter, the paper spilled everywhere, the throbbing pain in the left foot she was now holding up and cradling. She didn’t even notice how she was exposing her thighs until she rubbed her foot again and dropped it with a thud, realizing she was about to flash Elvis Presley. He seemed to realize it too, and smirked as he turned his face to look away as some sort of attempt to give her privacy while she smoothed her dress down. Bess did this while clumsily trying to balance between one heeled foot and one bare foot.

Elvis found it very hard to stifle his chuckles as he watched her stiffen, and held out his hand to put her at ease.

“Uh, hey there ma’am, I’m Elvis, Elvis Presley.”

Bess shifted and smiled awkwardly, wiping her dirty, sweaty hands on her silk dress and extending her right hand out to shake his. The the same right hand, that had, moments ago, been rubbing her smelly, left foot. Honestly, it seemed like the most polite option, since she decided to act as if the last five minutes hadn’t happened. As if  sneaking out of the supply building past 10 p.m. on a Friday night with her arms full of government office supplies was perfectly normal.

“Bess Schwartz, I’m, uh, I work in the Front Office here. I’m, I’m, I'm the secretary for the Army Intelligence Commander.”

She gasped when Elvis took her hand, the hand cover in her foot sweat, and squeezed it warmly, bringing it to his lips for a chaste kiss.

“Nice ta, uh, meetcha. Imma sorry, uh, for startlin’ ya Miss Schwartz, ma’am.”

Bess shivered in the darkness as she heard herself whisper for him to call her Bess almost incoherently while she watched Elvis drop down in front of her and fit her other white pump over her left foot. She tried to remember how to breath. It was hard.  Hard because she was struggling to subdue  her visceral reaction to Elvis' thumb as it slowly smoothed over the top of her foot, which made it harder still to recover from the embarrassment of getting caught stealing a typewriter. By the most famous person in the world. Bess shut her eyes in disbelief that this was actually happening, and was disappointed when she lifted her eyelids to find that it actually was happening and Elvis was still there. He met her eyes, his finger delicately stroking her ankle.

“There, now, honey, you think you can walk?”

She pulled her leg back and nodded as she scanned the parking lot, the road along and other buildings behind it.

“Mhmm. Thank you, Private. Say, what are you doing stalking around the base right now? Lights out is at 9.”

Elvis bit his lip, looking at the ground as he stood.

“Can’t sleep.”

Bess arched her eyebrow as she started to bend, but Elvis put his hand up to stop her and stooped to gather the paper. He crushed it under his arm as he grabbed the typewriter and ink ribbons, talking slowly and deliberately.

“Well, my first night some jokers went an put shaving cream in my shoes, I ‘spose it gave em a good laugh to watch me run around like a damn fool getting ready for inspection. An well, I ain’t been able to sleep since, can’t bare to, uh, to uh - ”

His voice trailed off, but Bess knew what he meant. He was afraid of looking like poor sport or tattle tale if he complained, and a coward if he just took it. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed the bags under his eyes, calculating he must be going on 40 hours without much sleep. Or much food either, if her date was to be believed. Men. Boys, more like. Little boys amusing them selves by torturing this poor kid. This, tall, lanky, kid, who hovered above her and whose large hands made her typewriter ribbon look like a checker piece.

“Yeah, uh, they’re just scared they won’t be able to get any tail now that your here.” She smiled as best she could under the pressure of trying to talk with Elvis smoldering, lonely boy eyes piercing through her.

Bess looked at a passing car just so she could collect herself, then back at Elvis, thinking of the crowds of women lining the gates.

“The men should be thanking you, we haven’t seen this many pretty girls hanging around the base, since, well, since ever. Probably gonna be easy picking, especially for the soldiers who can leave post. Those poor girls hanging 'round outside the gates don’t know you aren’t allowed to go near ‘em for the next three or so weeks.”

“Mhmm, seems like, uh, uh, ya don’t havta go off post to meet pretty girls.”

Elvis bit his lip again, enjoying how Bess became flustered and embarrassed, smoothing the sides of her dress. She reminded herself that she hated him, as she felt the butterflies swarm through her belly and make themselves at home, flitting willy nilly up her spine. Bess also became keenly aware of how hungry she was from skipping dinner. She didn’t have time for his teasing and looked Elvis squarely in the eyes as she spoke.

“I recommend staying away from them, too. Especially the WACs. You’re definitely not supposed to fraternize with other soldiers.”

Elvis looked off at the trees that lined the road to the right. “How bought civilians? Is, um, ah, frater-a-nizin', uh, allowed?”

Bess turned, ignoring the question, though she was unable to ignore the warm, playful flirtation in Elvis’ voice as it washed over her and her chest heaved up and down at a quicker pace. Once again she told herself that she did, indeed, know how to breath. Her annoyance at his line melted away when she returned to his eyes and saw the exhaustion underneath his bravado, instantly regretting what she was about to do before she even did it. Somehow she couldn’t help herself, it was as if she was having an out-of-body experience, watching herself fumble through a simple sentence.

“Listen, I, um, I just had the worst date of my life, at the worst restaurant. Couldn’t eat a bite. You help me get another type writer, and I’ll, I’ll fix us something to eat. Then you can sleep on my couch for a few hours.”

Watching  his eyes light up, Bess felt the need to add. “But no funny business. I’m just helping out a new recruit, doesn’t mean anything.”

For the second time that night, Bess oversaw sneaking a broken typewriter into the repair shop and taking a new one, hobbling as she led Elvis to her car and directed him to put the stuff in her truck.

“Ya live on post?”

Bess patted the passenger seat of her blue Ford.

“Nope.”

“You know I ain’t supposed to leave?”

“Yup.”

“So — what’s the plan, stan?”

Bess turned to Elvis, removing his hand from her knee where it had somehow landed, and whispered with breathy excitement.

“I’m going to sneak you off.”

Elvis quirked his eyebrows as she kept talking.

“I, um, well, I share an office with the CO's secretary, Mabel. Who might actually be the most powerful person at this command. So, as long as I get you back in time for reveille, we’ll be fine. None of these guys will mess with me.” 

“I, uh, I don’ wan no special privileges, I wanna, uh, be treated like any other man, any other soldier. I reckon I better -”

Elvis trembled when Bess touched his shoulder and rubbed it gently, looking up into his face with her big brown eyes, now tender and reassuring. He looked to her like he might cry as he spoke of not being special.

“Look, I would do this for any new recruit. Boot camp, uh. Well. This is the hardest  part of being in the Army. I promise. I’m not offering because you’re famous. I actually kind of hate you, do you know how much trouble you cause my office? So, you should know I’m helping you in spite of who you are. Promise. I would - I would do it for any soldier in your predicament.”

Bess said this firmly to convince herself as much as to convince Elvis. Then she added a friendly wink and drove off, enjoying Elvis’ bemused smile and telling herself not to worry. Underneath her calm, confidence was the nagging thought that, unlike Elvis, Bess knew exactly what happened if some rule-minded officer were to find out that she had snuck Elvis off post. She had a good understanding of rule-minded officers. Like her father. Who, thankfully, was out of town.

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

The bacon and eggs sizzled on the stove and Bess flipped them, shyly avoiding Elvis’ gaze from where he was leaning with his back arched against the door jab, his right hip twisted up and his thumbs hanging from his belt loops as he watching her cook.

“So, uh, what’s a secretary doing taking typewriters uh, um, out late on a Friday night an a bringin' ‘em home for, huh?”

Bess shook her head into the frying pan, then met his gaze.

“I , um, I happen to have some very important work I need to do from home. For the General I work for. That’s, uh, why I have a master key.”

“Uh huh.” Elvis’ smirked, nodding his chin as he stuck his hands slowly under his armpits, and lifted one knee up to lean back further against the wall.

“Hand me your plate, dinner is ready.”

Elvis bounced off the doorway and strode slowly over to where Bess stood at the stove, his long arms dangling loosely at his side. He had become more relaxed and confident once they got to her house, after tearing up a bit in the car and telling her how much he missed his parents and home and how he didn’t have any idea what Germany would be like. He had then muttered on about how millions of guys have been through this, so he knew he’d be alright, though the tear dripping down his cheek made Bess think he believed the exact opposite. Now he was behind her, almost a different person, cocky and teasing as his strong arms snaked around her waist to steady her hands.

“Nah, see how the egg is still all jiggly wiggly, Bessie? S’not done, not nearly. Wanna get the bacon good and browned up, so’s there ain’t no more pink left.”

She flushed at the way his breath hit her neck while his words softly compelled her to make his food the way he liked it. The rumble of his voice as her nickname rolled off his tongue was an assault on her sense of decency, and she let his hands linger at her waist for another beat before lifting them off and assuring him that she understood.No jiggly wiggly, no pink. Black. That she learned, was how Elvis liked everything, and everything was what she gave him, as he ate the pound and a half of bacon om her fridge and her last six eggs.

Bess mused that sneaking a fatigued Elvis off post and filling him full of food must be what made him clingy, comfortable and forward when he put his arms around her as she led him upstairs to the guest room. Rubbing his eyes as he plopped on the bed, Elvis grabbed her wrist imploringly and begged her not to leave him all lonesome in a strange house, in a strange town, where she was the only nice 'lil gal to treat him like a real human bean. Sighing, Bess sat at the top of the bed and let Elvis lay his head in her lap, where she stroked his forehead, and, at his request, started to tell him her life story. He had passed out after five minutes, when she had barely finished detailing how her parents met at Coney Island in 1932, three years before she was born.

Elvis' eye lids fluttered closed and he mumbled, “That’s a when I was borned. Aww, Bessie boo, we musta been babies at the same time.”

Bess groaned as she couldn’t seem to pull herself away from him, and stayed there with his head in her lap for another twenty minutes, afraid if she rolled it off her lap she would wake him. She was cupping the back of his head to gently move it off her lap when he thrashed around and called out the name Satnin. This led Bess to give up and lean against the head board, reconciling herself to a night sleeping sitting up with the most famous rebellious heart throb soldier in the world calling out for his mama in her lap.

Elvis’ hands moved first at the sound of the alarm, roving over Bess tummy and breasts  before he opened his eyes to the smacks of her hand hitting him off her. Somehow she had been pulled down into his arms over the course of the night, and she jumped up, commanding him to get his boots on while she ran down stairs and made some coffee. She prayed her younger sister hadn’t heard the alarm. Still wearing the dress from the night before, Bess watched Elvis gulp down his black coffee and chomp down the bread and cheese she had thrown at him to eat in the car. Loudly. With an open mouth. Wiping the crumbs from his mouth, he put his arm around her and squeezed.

Despite sleeping in his arms, Bess felt a shock and jolted at his touch.

“Just so we’re clear,  Mister, uh, Private um Presley, uh, this was just a friendly, patriotic gesture. I wasn’t, uh um, trying to seduce you.”

Elvis arched his eyebrow, his expression one of amusement and incredulity at the idea Bess thought of her behavior seductive. The way she had hesitated spitting out the word ’seduce’ so earnestly was adorable and endearing.

“OK, honey, you’re the boss, jus do me a favor and call me Elvis, huh?”

She nodded, eyes forward in concentration as she felt him squeeze her shoulders even tighter. She left it there, and found herself relaxing and leaning back into him after a few minutes with a sigh. She couldn't help it, it was an instinctive response to the way his fingers widened and began to tap out a rhythm on the side of her arm. Everything felt good, and their two bodies melded together in the dusky morning twilight for a spell until a gate came into view and Bess jerked up to throw Elvis’ arm onto the car seat with a smack, not noticing how he, too, stiffened with trepidation.

She stopped around the block from Elvis’ barracks and met his strong, uninhibited bear hug with her body, letting him press the air out of her lungs and kiss her cheek.

“Hey, Bessie Boo, I,uh, I can’t, I don’t even, I uh, I hate to leave you, honey, I ain’t even had time to tell you what I want to say, what -”

Bess put her finger to his lips, feeling his breath as she shhhed him. His brows were furrowed and he frowned, not wanted to leave her car and return to the barracks. She rubbed her hand up his chest reassuringly.

“You only have five minutes to get into your bunk, Private Pres - Elvis.” She murmured. “Now, go be a good boy, I have an idea, for how to help you sleep in the future.”

“Hmmm, sounds fun.” A naughty expression played across his face, his jaw hung open and he waggled his eye brows.

Bess realized the insinuation and hit his arm.

“Not that.”  She cocked her head towards the road. “You better go.”

“Huh, usually girls are tryin to run after me, not run me off.” She hit him again as he teased her. “Ok, ok baaaby. I’m off like a gun.”

Elvis face twisted into a crooked grin, and Bess felt like the sun was rising in her car, the earth was suddenly brighter when Elvis’ blue eyes beamed down at her and he kissed her goodbye. It was a light, sweet kiss aimed at her mouth but somehow missing and hitting the crease of her lips.

It had been, what, a year since she had been kissed? Bess kept her eyes closed, just enjoying the soft, tingling sensation of  his mouth crushed into her face. Elvis’ hands gripped her tightly, one hand on her neck, the other at her back, and he moved as if to kiss her again. In a brief moment of clarity, Bess realized she had been fighting her attraction to Elvis all night. It had been gradual and immediate, and she felt very different being close to him then she did when she saw hm in the movies or on the TV and radio. At the back of her mind she could hear all the reasons she shouldn’t kiss him. She pushed her hand up between their lips.

“Um, hey, look. Think we could just be friends? I, uh, I have a rule. I don’t date soldiers.”

Elvis sat back, a quizzical expression softening on his face into a smile as he rubbed her shoulder.

“Sure, Bessie baby, friends. Got it.”

He clicked his tongue and grinned, shooting her a thumbs up. Bess nodded, unable to stop the flutter of her heart as she watched Elvis’ long legs carry him forward as he jogged around the corner to his bunk, pausing to look back over his shoulder at her with a goofy smile as he waved goodbye.

“Fuck a duck.” She heard herself mutter, as she put her car into gear and drove home to shower and get Elvis Presley out of her head.

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

Chapter Two: Moo Moo & Tupelo

If you enjoyed this and want to read more, comment, reblog, and let me know what you think and if you would want to be tagged. Tagging a few of you on here who read my stuff, but DM or comment if you would rather not be ;)

@doll-elvis @richardslady121 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @father-of-2cats @everythingelvispresley @j-v-9-2 @eliseinmemphis @moonchild-daniella @notstefaniepresley @louisejoy86 @amydarcimarie @kingdomforapony @dkayfixates @artlover8992 @18lkpeters @literally-just-elvis-fics

#elvis presley #elvis presley fan fic #elvis presley fan fiction #elvis fan fiction #army elvis #fort hood 1958 #basic training #elvis x oc #writing prompt game #banditqueenwrites

[doomspiral]

Doom's Movie Rec List

Some of these are bangers, some of these are the worst thing I have ever seen in my life, but I think they are all worth watching and enjoying one way or another. Sometimes the enjoyment is cringe and sometimes its staring at a wall for three hours. <3

The seventh seal (1957)

Classic chess game with Death film, I presume the entire thing is Bergman staring into the soul of the viewer in dead silence until you can read his mind.

The cabinet of Dr. Caligary (1920)

Strange, lurching, I watched this in German without knowing enough to keep up and I believe my confusion added to the experience.

Atomic blonde (2017)

This is my favorite movie. This is the one that I can't stop rewriting in my fics. I can't get the "lies" soliloquy out of my mind. My soul is tied to this fillum. Hot insane woman does a lot of violence, kisses women, beats up a guy who truly deserves it. Iron Curtain Spy Nonsense.

Hackers (1994)

Am I depressing you? Good, watch Hackers to experience child-like wonder and also see a grown man skateboard down a foggy street in the middle of the night to harass the homosexual teenagers (and slim shady) he's beefing with.

The core (2003)

This is not a good movie. But there is a little freak in there named "Rat" who I am obsessed with.

Angel's egg (1985)

This is the kind of movie where you have to not try to figure out what's going on and instead let it take you by the hands, just experience it, just keep your mouth shut and your mind at rest and you can consider the implications afterward when its safe.

Princess mononoke (1997)

I watched this as a child and saw those beasts dissolve into bloody worms and apparently that left a lasting mark on my brain.

Nausicaä of the valley of wind (1984)

I actually read the manga for this one but this is a movie rec list, so please go watch this for the death and rebirth vibes, and some mild foeyay yuri.

Invasion of the body snatchers (1978)

Horror movie that's odd and disturbing and clearly betraying some better dead than red fears, worth it for the horrible despicable freakish noise the guy makes at the end while pointing at the viewer.

Strange days (1995)

Please read up on this before watching it, it revolves around a fictional, then-futuristic critique of the adult film industry, HEAVY focus on the capitalistic dehumanization and devaluing of human life.

Underworld (2003)

Bad asses in leather fighting monsters. Core memory.

Blade (1998)

Bad asses in leather fighting monsters but maybe you need a break from how white this whole movie list is overall. That's okay, I see you, this vampire flick fucks severe.

Fright night (1985, 2011)

The first movie is pretty campy (fun) but the remake dug into my actual stressors and fears and scared the lights from my eyes for a day or two. Welcome... to FrrrighT NighT.

Dracula (1931, 1992)

First movie is a classic, this is thee one with the guy crawling around like a lizard and there's armadillos for no reason. The 90's version has no business being as deranged as it is and for this it is a core personality trait movie.

Fast&furious: Tokyo drift (2006)

Not sure I would say this is peak cinema but it's a racing movie that falls in line with the F&F tradition of being clearly in love with the entire premise, location, and cast. Rent free.

Drive (2011)

I like this movie because it is not about the guy getting the girl, it is about doing the right thing every single time because that's what it takes to be a real human bean. being. whichever. I was so obnoxious about this movie when I watched it with my now-ex gf that I wish I could siphon the memory of it out of her brain, because I kept pointing at actors I knew.

Green room (2015)

This is the best punk parable I can think of. Litany against not reading the room, litany against being the hero when there's no one to save, litany against thinking shared trauma is gonna get you any pussy.

Lords of chaos (2018)

I'm obsessed with the band Mayhem there is no other explanation.

There will be blood (2007)

WILD WEST TOXIC YAOI. I'm not apologizing for this summary and I'm not elaborating.

Butch Cassidy and the sundance kid (1969)

I don't know. I watched this in the wee hours of the morning with my best friend and actually cried about it. Doomed criminals and a famous final stand.

Saw (2004)

I used to watch Saw movies when I lived in the trailer park while hiding from my family in a neighbor's place so I don't know if these movies are good or if I needed to watch tortureporn to relax bcs the roof leaked on my bed when it rained? But I think everyone should at least watch the first movie or how are you going to play any games?

Chernobyl diaries (2012)

I walked out of this movie shaking head to toe and couldn't think about anything else for months. I don't think I'd be as scared now but I can't say if that's because I'm not 16 anymore. Warning against going into a dangerous situation with a guy you met off Craigslist.

Constantine (2005)

Demon hoards, evil angels, catholic bullshit, 9/10.

The neverending story (1984)

Well after all that let's reinstate some whimsy into our souls again bcs this is the Jim Henson Power Hour. This one is just a solid entry point into "puppets are fun and practical effects are my best friend".

The dark crystal (1982)

My babysitters put this on for me as a bed-time story when I was five (5) years old and I do not believe I slept, I think they regretted this and had to tell my parents what they did. But now I will never stop making Skeksis noises at people I love.

Labyrinth (1986)

Y'know the phenomenon of alt teens and preteens dating young adult men who are total and complete losers, including actual band members? It's not that this pre-dates any of that, but I believe it does a good job representing it through the lens of a modern fairy tale. Like when you watch this you have to realize this is wish fulfillment for people who want to be Sarah because their age-gap goth boyfriend in the real world is a manipulative disappointment.

Pacific rim (2013)

Love letter to the mecha and kaiju genre(s). Makes no sense, compels me though.

Eurotrip (2004)

This is the movie "Scotty doesn't know" is from. Some high schoolers fuck off to Europe and have the most misadventure possible. It's somehow exactly the kind of cringe humor you would expect from the 00's without being cruel or overly disgusting. I used to watch a lot of really bad 00's comedies and this is a good one I promise. Scussie.

Hamlet (1996)

Personality point, I think this is the best version on film because the guy actually looks like how I envisioned Hamlet. Ignore your girl! Avenge your dad!

Advantageous (2015)

This movie goes in on the connection between race and class in a sci-fi future where you can change the former through predatory, dangerous cosmetic surgery.

Gravity (2013)

This is my go-to movie when I need to sob like a sick little baby. Space travel as a metaphor for motherhood, spaceships as the womb, scientists are the babies who left their babies back on earth. It's about what you give up in the name of fulfilling your human urge for the unknown.

All clear on the western front (2022)

Thee anti-war fillum. Very well done. I never recovered from one of the final scenes to the point I wrote a final paper on it. Without spoiling it, the Ending gave me the feeling of when you're a kid and you want to go play, but you're grounded and you fall asleep listening to your friends outside in the street. I hope this sentence ruins your life if you watch this movie.

Inglorious basterds (2009)

They lock some nazis in a theatre and set them on fire, good cinema.

Shadow dancer (2012)

Domhnall Gleeson in one of his classically pathetic twink roles but its about British imperial violence and Irish reactionary violence.

Logan (2017)

Good art film, a story about dementia, legacies, and why putting children in cages is fucking evil.

The batman (2022)

Weird art film, next question.

Joker (2019)

I do not care about the opinions of straight men who watch things uncritically, this is a good movie because of the depictions of poverty in the US. I don't believe this needed to be about the DC Joker this should have been a standalone art film about a mime.

Dragonheart (1996)

Medieval era dragon nonsense, I will never be convinced this is a bad movie.

Sleeping beauty (1959)

Personality trait was rooting for the dragon.

Snow dogs (2002)

I'm not defending this one it stands on its own, please watch this movie if you wanna see Cuba Gooding Jr. bite a husky's ear so it'll stop ruining his life.

Luck of the irish (2001)

This movie is genuinely so bad I have considered it some kind of hate crime since the day it came out, because I watched this the day it was a direct-to-TV movie. I think I was too young to feel insulted but I was deeply, deeply bemused.

Black swan (2010)

There is a woman inside her and she is trying to crash the plane. Can I get away with calling this foe-yay yuri also? I'm going to.

I, tonya (2017)

Sufjan Stevens' song "Tonya Harding in Eb major" makes me so unreasonably emotional, so one day I watched this movie and then the film of the 1988 Calgary Olympics in the living room while all of my housemates had to sneak around in the dark. This is just a solid movie about ambition, betrayal, abuse, tragedy, and having to get over it and move on because you're not dead yet.

Phantom of the opera (2004)

Whatever was going on in Labyrinth, this is the adult version. Weird man in a sewer possessing a soprano. I think there's some gender happening here but it gets a little lost under the love(?) triangle.

A knights tale (2001)

Just go watch some more medieval nonsense, it's good for you, its fun.

White chicks (2004)

I'm not defending this choice, it's a good movie. "You were thinking it" "Yeah but you said it" there are some phrases you could use to see if I had been replaced with a body double and this is one of them.

Heathers (1988)

Ouughhgh ough oh. Personality trait. Watched this because I kept listening to the musical soundtrack, love both but agree the themes are much tighter in the movie. This is just a fun schlock to tell teens life is stupid and difficult and bad things will happen, so don't abandon your friends.

Priscilla queen of the desert (1994)

Classic homo fillum, if you wonder why I write Gilbert Like That it's partially because of the mean little fruit from this movie. It's about the Aussie drag scene and who belongs in the queer community.

300 (2006)

I'm not sure that I would call this a "good" movie, but it's a classic as far as I'm concerned. This is the "THIS IS SPARTA" movie.

The foreigner (2017)

I actually don't remember the plot of this one too solidly but the suspense and action were solid, and I enjoyed the setup. Good for if you wanna be really pissed off for two hours.

Conan the barbarian (1982)

Look at me. Look into my eyes. You're going to watch this movie. You're going to think about the wheel of pain and you're going to go wow, this is so stupid. Don't look away I'm not done. You're going to watch this movie and then you're going to get a couple of paper towel tubes and find someone to beat the shit out of each other with the tubes.

Law abiding citizen (2009)

I don't know I think watching this movie changed my brain chemistry in very special ways. Guy fucking loses it and becomes a problem for his local community by kidnapping and torturing people who killed his family. Cathartic and vile.

Black dog (1998)

:D DO YOU WANNA WATCH AN ACTION MOVIE ABOUT AN 18-WHEELER?

The hunt for red october (1990)

Almost forgot this one. Lithuanian Submariner off the shits, goes rogue, I'm not sure what accent Sean Connery is going for, I get the impression he just showed up to gigs and did whatever he wanted.

#long post #movie recs #mein #If nothing else this is just the 'why is Doom like that' list

[hail-americas-ass]

🔆JUNE FIC REC II

✒ a greek tragedy by ash 

(I can’t express enough how amazing this is) 4.6K Words

When Steve started drawing the comic, he drew himself before the serum and Bucky as he remembered him when they worked together to keep from ending up on the streets and dreamed of futures with floating cars. He drew them then and now, scenes against a New York he remembered and scenes against this future he didn’t quite fit in, one drawn soft and hazy, the other hard lines. When he drew them in the present, he never drew himself looking at Bucky; Bucky was always behind him, a shadow that followed as he tried to find a trace of the world they used to know in this one. He called them Orpheus and Eurydice.

🦾  Touch Me I’m Going to Scream by buffypeppers

(This is a classic in my opinion. It’s got recovering!Bucky and every trope you can imagine, so very fluffy) 107.5K Words

Only a few days have passed since the Winter Soldier put Sam into a hospital bed but Steve is ready to find HYDRA’s assassin and bring him to justice.

Things won't go according to plan once the Avengers find the infamous man.

🕵️‍♂️ End of all Days by Minka ( @minka-g​ on tumblr)

(I was motivated to reread this recently, it kept me on the edge of my seat the first time I read it and it had the same thrilling effect when I reread it too. There’s only one word to describe it: thrilling.) 

(Archeological Historian!Steve x Spy!Bucky) (Indiana Jones & Atomic Blonde AU)  116.7K Words

Captain Steve Rogers had thought his military days were behind him, left in the bloody nightmare that was Saigon. Retired and working as a History Professor, the last thing he expected was to get caught up in a cataclysmic Slavic prophesy foreshadowing the end of the known world.

With Cold War tensions running high, Steve finds himself in need of a guide and translator to get him behind the Iron Curtain and into the isolated snowdrifts of Siberia.

It’s deep in the heart of Bucharest’s resistance fighters that Steve finds the ideal candidate, but swaying the enigmatic ex-operative known as The Winter Soldier proves to be complicated. Trust is hard-won, especially in the world of espionage, and with a KGB death squad nipping at his heels, the Soldier has countless reasons to stay presumably dead.

As the lines between right, wrong and the supernatural begin to blur, Steve is forced to reconsider everything he’s ever believed, right from the sanctity of his own country to the very foundations of creation itself.

❤️‍🩹 Every Door Opens by Notoska ( @notoska on tumblr)

(This fic, the words and the way they were written, not only yanked my heart out of my chest, it also sunk deep in my bones where I was forced to carry it and think of it for days. Fantastic.) Recovery fic. 73.9K Words

Then Bucky licks his lips, tip of his tongue just grazing the sensitive skin of Steve’s ear and Steve moans. Nothing close to the surge of lust behind his ribs, but a tiny, breathy sound all the same. Bucky doesn’t react—he must not have heard. Though a minute later he curls his fingers and extends them again, moving just slow enough for it to be a caress.

Just tip your head into his touch. He’ll take the lead and trace the folds of your ear with his tongue until you can’t keep quiet any more. Then he’ll smother your desperate little noises with his mouth, fingers twisting in your hair. Kissing deeply, tongues reaching to declare your filthy intentions. Find his knee with your hand and slide wolfishly up his thigh until you reach the bulge behind his fly. Palm him through his trousers until he’s panting in your mouth, until he’s pressing his forehead to yours, hips bucking, and you can see his dark eyes, glinting in the screen’s flickering light, pleading—

Steve jolts back to the present. The credits are rolling and Bucky is reading them as well. The screen blacks and two fluorescent lights buzz to life. Bucky loosens his hand from Steve’s head, welcoming the world back in.

#stucky fanfiction #stucky fanfic #stucky #steve/bucky #ao3 #stucky fic recs #stucky fic rec #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve rogers/bucky barnes #stevebucky #fic recs

[liminal-zone]

courage, dear heart

i wrote a thing! 

AO3 fic link: atomic blonde

fandom: Narnia/LOTR crossover | ship: Susan Pevensie/Éowyn, background Haladriel

rated: mature | tagged: crossover, canon compliant, pining, Gender Politics with Clive Staples and John Ronald Reuel, post The Horse and His Boy, bittersweet

Summary: It’s not the first time a power beyond understanding ripped Susan away from her home to fight in another world’s war. And in this strange country, she will find her courage.

Set as Frodo becomes the ringbearer, set after Susan returns from Tashbaan and the Battle of Anvard is won.

a/n: Written for @thenarniaficexchange 2023 for @syrena-of-the-lake. Is this fic just a string of references from all seven narnia books, at least five lotr books, various narnia and lotr films, a lotr tv show, Churchill’s “we shall fight on the beaches”, and Shakespeare? Maybe so.

Two canons in a blender, my favorite scene in this is when the Dark Lord Sauron comes to Queen Susan in her dreams to take her apart and finds something he didn’t expect. And my heart aches to answer an unanswered question in the fic about magicked memory loss and the Problem of Susan, perhaps in a sequel. 

Excerpt:

Her hands are dirty from drawing the circle, fingers burned from the blue fire.

The bright magic ring she wears is cold, very cold; cold as the bottom of the sea. And it sings of power, not of the flesh, but over flesh. The power of the Unseen World.

In her mouth is the language spoken before the dawn of time. Before the Deep Magic was written. Before the Sun and the Moon were made. “Call her up.”

*

It’s quite sudden – the searing sound in her ears and then a great pop – and she’s no longer riding alongside her sister in the wilds of Galma but in a strange, alien land.

She stills her horse, and is surprised to find it not the dumb Galman beast who was a pleasure to ride along the sands of the ocean, but a great stallion fit for a warrior of renown. The shabby islander saddle is now richly ornate, covered in symbols she does not recognize. The windswept sea of grass smells sweet; rich earth beneath and a warm yellow sun in the endless blue sky above. Massive forests and towering mountains in the distance, and far off to the south, clouds of smoke. No recognizable landmark of any kind.

This curious little girl from Finchley has experienced travel between worlds before, but she does not quite remember the first time. Something about a mother who loved her and a great stairwell and the numbing horror of nonstop destruction; all faded in memory and deemed unimportant, lost. She is now queen of a great country; taller than her brother, the High King, and a remarkable beauty sought by highborns across the known world. Her raven-colored hair and red lips, haunting the dreams of many. Her gracious kindness, a balm to her loving subjects once subjugated by winter and a witch.

More importantly, she still remains curious.

For she is Susan, by the gift of Aslan, by election, by prescription, and by conquest, Queen over Narnia under the High King Peter, the Lady of Cair Paravel and Protector of the River Rush, Blessed by the Radiant Southern Sun, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, Daughter of Eve, the Gentle.

And this strange country, unknown to her, is Middle Earth.

*

Her magical horn came with her, tied to her belt. There is no hesitation as she raises it to her lips. Father Christmas had said “–wherever you are–,” so she blows it, calling for help in this alien place.

The full velvety sound rings out across the grassy plains, ringing up through the nearby mountains and reaching forests unknown and reaching foreign ears in their towers of stone. (Perhaps even reaching the power that brought her here.)

A rider appears in the distance. Susan narrows her eyes, considering if this is friend or foe. She only has a dagger and her wits, which may be enough.

It is a warrior with a shield on his arm. He rides a white steed and golden horse hair flows out of his helmet. He shines bright like the famed white stag and Susan feels an intense urge to chase this rider at once, to put an arrow in his heart and drag him to the ground.

To demand wishes? Perhaps. The urge is unknowable.

But no: this is no white stag, nor a magical creature of any sort.

And Susan does not yet know that this is no man.

Susan called for help, and help has arrived in the form of Éowyn, the Lady of Rohan.

*

It is a cautious meeting and neither dismount.

The rider’s gaze is appraising, obviously noting Susan’s foreign dress. There’s the uncommon length of her raven hair, adorned with the lush island flowers of Galma. The dagger and white horn at her side, and the ease in which Susan is managing a stallion. The queenly posture; a regal confidence undoubted. (This is learned behavior. Pevensies can trace their lineage to poor fishermen in East Sussex and poorer soldiers from Normandy.)

Susan’s assessment is this: the young rider is a dangerous warrior, lithe and well-knit in frame, made all the more queer with his open courtesy to a stranger.

“What country, friend, is this?” Susan asks.

The rider tilts his head. “This is Rohan, my lady.” His voice ringing out clear.

And what shall I do in Rohan? Susan thinks, miserably.

“Are you in need some assistance, my lady?” the rider continues, a look of concern in his gray eyes. A pause. “I am Dernhelm, at your service.”

*

Dernhelm listens to her tale and “strange sorcery” is his response. He thinks a moment before: “Have you experience with witches?”

Susan gives a smile, but it is a bitter one. She knows more than some about witches.

After Susan explains, Dernhelm nods. “The way I see it is this: you have appeared here through magic, for what reason, I cannot say. And you have appeared in Rohan, for what reason, I cannot say. You are no servant of the Dark Lord, there is something true and honorable about you.” He stops there for a moment before a continuing in a most peculiar tone. “The wizards have no interest in queens; what is a woman to the affairs of air and earth? So, the Lady of the Golden Wood, she must be behind this and her reasons could have promise in them.”

“The Lady?” Susan echoes quietly. There are hags that called Her “the White Lady.”

“She is a great sorceress. An elf-witch of terrible power who dwells in Dwimordene.” Dernhelm looks grave. “It is said that all who look upon her shall fall under her spell and are never seen again.”

Susan shivers, thinking of the horror of Jadis’ castle. Of Tumnus’ look of terror, frozen in stone.

Dernhelm continues. “My brother believes she is a myth, and–” he pauses as if pained by a memory unspoken. “My king’s advisor says webs of deceit were ever woven in Dwimordene.” He raises his chin, and his eyes are shining bright. “But I believe differently. There is an old, old tale of this elf-witch helping my annointed forebear, the first of our kings. I choose to believe that tale. I choose to believe that in our time of need, the Lady came to our aid. High honor to protect the king and his men, and dread magic too. And perhaps, perhaps if she is behind this, she can be reasoned with and you can return home. Should you have the courage, you seek her out.”

“Then I shall go to find this Lady of the Golden Wood,” Susan says. “If you will take me there, sir. For I do not know the way.”

The man sucks in air and holds it a moment before: “For this journey, you have my sword, your grace.”

#narnia #susan pevensie #eowyn #sauron #galadriel #susan x eowyn #haladriel #lizzen fic #narnia fic exchange #the horse and his boy #ww2 wildly waving its hands in the background saying notice me notice me

[lifeandlies-of-regulusblack]

🌍 🏆 💡

Please please please do tell!! 👀👀👀

hi villain!!!!!

🌍 What is your dream AU?

Ok why is this so hard to answer? I think i have more than one. and i love them all equally.

Atomic Blonde AU - what a good movie, first of all. i can't stop thinking of reg, playing charlize theron, being this extremely sexy and lethal assassin, sent to Germany just before the Berlin Wall falls. I just want reg in a high stake, assassin mission where he has to kill an entire espionage ring while looking like an invitation to fuck. charlize was chic in the movie but i want regulus to be elegantly slutty. I want him fighting like black widow but with his ass out and skin showing. I want men after him to call him a bitch, then after, have regulus knife their eye out and ask them, "who's your bitch, now?"

BDSM AU - there's a need in my bones for a good, honest to god, BDSM fic!!!!! PLEASE OH MY GOD. with anyone else, i am BEGGING for regulus to be the sub. but with jegulus? I WANT SUB JAMES SO BAD. PLSSSSSSS. i want james dropping and regulus just pressing kisses over his body to bring him back! i want james being regulus' cock warmer >:( i want regulus having james fuck other men and james not even giving single fuck about who's dick he's bouncing on because the one thing that matters is reg's praise. i want james trying so hard to be the bestest boi for regulus and having a panic attack because he thinks regulus didn't like this one certain thing that he did, only for regulus to come gather him in his arms and tell him he was such a good boy. I want a pouty james that gets jealous once he finds out that he's not reg's first sub! || for moonseeker, bartylus, and [redacted ship] i want regulus to just, just, have the time of his life being a brat and being punished accordingly~ i want regulus pissing off his doms so much and then giving them whiplash the instant he turns into a princess. AHHHHH BDSM AUUUUUUUU.

Supernatural AU - well, well, well. It all starts and ends with the brothers. oh gods. this au. i fucking- I CAN'T EVEN. Sirius finding Regulus because he wants Regulus in on Alphard's mission to hunt demons, while Regulus wants nothing to do with that world anymore. Think Black Brothers! But prophesied to either save or end the world. One is destined to be the vessel of archangel Michael (Sirius) while the other is destined to be the vessel of Lucifer, himself (Regulus). AHHHHHHHHH fuckkkkk. Regulus slowly struggling with bloodlust while Sirius is the one stable thing that keeps pulling him back OH GODS. Regulus having a panic attack while Sirius whispers promises to his ear about how he'll never let anyone take his little brother from him, and that he won't ever let Regulus lose himself. Cue Sirius telling demons of hell to go fuck themselves because they're never going to get Regulus. Think the brothers going all around the world killing demons, running from angels (wanting to collect Sirius), hunting monsters, exorcising ghosts!!!! One of them gets cursed and one has to make a deal with a devil!!! THE SHEER POTENTIAL OF THIS AU. long roadtrips where it's just the brothers talking, fighting, healing, and crying. If there was EVER a good au to show how codependent and unhealthy these brothers are, THIS, THIS IS THE ONE. I want Regulus travelling through the depths of hell because Sirius was taken, in the hopes to kill the vessel of Michael (Albus). I want Lucifer (Riddle) trying to take Regulus under his wing while he's in hell desperately looking for Sirius. I want Regulus to find Sirius at the cost of his humanity <3 and Sirius despairing because he wanted Regulus to live a normal life, because that's why he gave himself up! And Regulus telling him to stfu and focus because now they gotta fight their way out of hell. Oh, and James is Castiel but falls in love for Regulus. Remus is Crowley.

🏆 What do you wish more authors in your fandom would write about?

Regulus not being a punching bag or a FOIL for sirius ://

To be honest, I guess just a little bit more nuance when it comes to the brothers? and a little honesty, too. like if you're going to write about the black brothers and say you'll be exploring both sides, then please explore both sides? Don't play at doing so, and then end up favoring one brother over the other too.

Like, i think we all know that both kids were stupid and cruel to each other, so have them both apologize. Or own up to their shit.

I'm so sick of these two being caricatures for badly written trauma and childhood abuse, especially when it's clear the author has no idea what they're talking about and is going off of the fumes of fanon, where regulus is this meek child while sirius is this brave victim kid who fought against his parents ://

Hmmm... and maybe I'd like to see more morally gray regulus having fun with not giving a fuck.

I think I'd also like to see Regulus having a solid support system.

💡 Tell me a headcanon (and who you wish would write it)?

When Sirius falls into the veil, it's his brother's hands that catch him.

@queerregulusablack @woobyo

When Regulus tries pushing Sirius into the floo to get him to the Potters (because Sirius has to leave and he doesn't want his brother to die in their home), Sirius grabs hold of him and they come tumbling right into Potter Manor. Sirius thinks he can convince Regulus to stay but... Regulus just tells him to live like he's always wanted to. He walks right back into the flames, with his brother telling him not to go.

cait, morgan, ghostie, and villain because they hurt me so well <33

#asks #villain #regulus black #the black brothers #sirius black #marauders era

[tragicallywicked]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Atomic Blonde (2017) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Lorraine Broughton/Delphine Lasalle Characters: Lorraine Broughton, Delphine Lasalle, Emmett Kurzfeld, Other Character Tags to Be Added Additional Tags: Post-Canon Fix-It, Fix-It, Delphine Lasalle Lives, Slow Burn, Idiots in Love, in which Lorraine is worried she'll get Delphine killed, much pain and struggles, but good fights, and eventually good sex, Very Good Sex, I'm Bad At Summaries, I APOLOGIZE 

Summary:

"Do you ever wonder what could have been if things had been different?"

Lorraine's gaze locked with Delphine's, a mix of yearning and caution in her eyes. "We're spies, Delphine. We don't dwell on 'what ifs.'"

Delphine's fingertips grazed the rim of her glass, her voice laced with a hint of vulnerability. "But sometimes, Lorraine, the 'what ifs' haunt us the most."

Lorraine's defenses faltered for a brief moment, a flicker of longing crossing her features. "We can't afford distractions. The mission requires our full attention."

Delphine's gaze lingered, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips. "And yet, here we are, caught between duty and desire."

 or

 In which Delphine is alive and has to go on a mission with Lorraine.

#atomic blonde #lorraine x delphine #delphine lasalle #lorraine broughton #charlize theron #sofia boutella #lorraine #delphine #lesbian fic #lgbt #lgbtqia #fanfic #mine

[aziraphales-library]

heya, do you know of any gomens fics that are set in berlin, germany? thank you!

Hi! Here are some fics set in Berlin...

daedalus, landing by Contra (M)

AU in which their city is Berlin instead of London. // Alternate Title: The Sky over Berlin

To rest my eyes in shades of green by HolRose (G)

During what began as an ordinary November evening, bookish, shy student Aloysius, and world-weary horticulturist Anton meet on the top of a notorious Wall in a city teetering on the edge of momentous change. Growing up in a profoundly divided country has given them both ample reasons to be distrustful. Neither of them have considered that they might fall in love at first sight, but where the personal and political collide on this most unprecedented of occasions, they may be about to change their minds.

A Berlin Wall AU

Left With No Trace by Anti_kate (E)

Aziraphale’s heart didn’t leap so much as plummet from a cliff-top, flinging itself towards certain doom. Aziraphale struggles with his feelings after his fight with Crowley over the holy water, until they meet by chance in Berlin.

Good Omens Deutschland by fathand (T)

1946 - 1989.

Berlin, during the Cold War.

Maybe This Time by orphan_account (T)

There was a cabaret in a city called Berlin, in a country called Germany, in a Europe that just narrowly escaped the end of the world and was rapidly heading towards another attempt.

And in that cabaret, an Angel and a Demon were dancing together. The trumpets signaling end times could have been playing, and they wouldn’t have even heard it over the music.

Atomic Omens by bookmarksorganization (E)

It's Atomic Blonde (which you don't need to have seen), but it's Good Omens. Basically: it's a spy story set in 1989 Berlin feat. Crowley as the femme fatale main character.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #berlin #mod d

[konig-is-bbygrl]

Look for me In the Moon (SoapGhost fic) TW: suicidal thoughts, thoughts of alcoholism, major character death, depressive thoughts, descriptions of injury, canon typical violence

WC: 2.5k

A/N: This is a very sad, dark, gritty fic. This borders on Dead Dove content. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THE TW MENTIONED. The advice given by the therapist in this fic is NOT REAL ADVICE. If you are having a mental health crisis, please call the hotline in your country.

The mission nearly killed him. No, no it did kill him. But not in the traditional sense. Not in the death of the body, but in the death of the soul. Death of the spirit. The mission had gone sideways quickly. 

One missed sniper, hidden in the moonlit evening. The glint of an M13’s barrel was the only indication of anyone on the roof adjacent to them. It was all his fault. It truly was. He was supposed to clear the rooftops and he had missed one. 

He had gotten distracted by Ghost. By Simon. By those deep, chocolate-brown eyes. Those eyes, framed by blonde lashes and contrasted by the black balaclava he always wore. His mind was elsewhere, focused on a conversation they had had nearly a year ago. 

“Ya know, LT, they say when you die, you come back in the sunsets. I like to think my gran is in the purple ones,” Johnny said to his Lieutenant. 

The pair were dressed in nice clothing, watching a sunset together and sharing a beer. Johnny had just received word that his grandmother had passed after a long, painful with cancer. Due to the current mission, there was no way for him to get home for her funeral. In a bid to comfort his comrade, Ghost, or rather, Simon at this moment, had snuck two beers from Price’s stash for them to enjoy while the sunset.

“When I die,” Simon began slowly, pausing to take a long drink of his beer, “don’t look for me in the sunsets. Look for me in the moon. In the way, the moonlight turns everything white. And in the way the moon lights up the sky at night,”

The alcohol had loosened Simon’s lips just enough to let him speak his mind freely.

Johnny smiled fondly at his Lieutenant, finally taking a moment to truly appreciate how beautiful he was. The way the light of the dying sun turned his eyes the color of melted chocolate in a candy shop window, his eyelashes glowing like snow under December sunlight, and the delicate curve of his Cupid’s bow. 

“Simon,” Johnny spoke softly.

Simon’s head turned and a light smile played along his lips. It made Johnny’s heart soar. His heart hammered against his ribs so hard he thought it would burst forth from him, right into Simon’s lap. Before he could stop himself, his hand drifted to the nape of Simon’s neck, up under the balaclava, slowly slipping it from his head. 

Simon. Simon. Oh gods, Simon. Johnny could now admire him in all his glory. Not just his eyes, not just the gentle curve of his smile and the flash of white teeth behind his lips. No, all of him. Johnny’s hand remained on the nape of Simon’s neck, feeling the warmth of his skin. The other man’s hand covered his own.

Slowly, as if connected by an invisible string, the pair leaned in. Their lips and it felt like an atomic bomb had gone off between the pair. It wasn’t just sparks. It was a flame that anyone within a five-mile radius could feel. Pulling away, Johnny got another glimpse of that beautiful smile that rarely graced Simon’s face. 

A gun report broke the delicate silence that had blanketed the sticky night. The gunshot itself wasn’t scary. Those were normal. The silence that had followed, true silence, no birds or bugs calling to each other in the night. Most importantly– no shots fired back. 

“LT, how copy?” Johnny said on the radio.

Silence. Not even a crackle of a radio turning on.

“LT. How copy?” The Scot demanded firmly.

Jumping on the main channel, he called to the others, telling them he was going to investigate Ghost’s position on the edge of the thicket that surrounded the town. After an affirmative from their captain, he moved silently through the city streets to the position. He saw a mass laying on the ground.

“Jaysus, LT, when someone calls for you over the radio, answer ‘em,” Johnny scolded in a hushed tone.

Once again, silence. His heart was in his throat, why hadn’t he answered? He always answered. Coming within three steps of the mass on the ground, the realization slammed into Johnny like a Humvee. 

A black balaclava with a skull design, half slipped from the face of the dead soldier now laying on the ground. The light eyelashes of the deceased seemed to glow in the light of the full moon. The most horrifying detail? The one that would stay with Johnny until he too joined the sunsets? The hole in the side of the soldier’s head, viscera turning the blonde hair a sticky, dark red shade.

Johnny felt vomit rise in his throat as he approached even closer, leaning to inspect the dog tags, now laying in the pool of blood slowly engulfing the body. The words embossed into the metal washed over the Scotsman like a bucket of ice water.

“Riley, Simon, BT: O-, NKA”

The next few hours of Johnny’s life were a blur of radio calls and gunfire. Calling out to his team to tell them that Ghost had been KIA. Finding and killing the sniper. Evac’ing out with the body. When he finally came back to reality, he found himself showering on base, scrubbing the blood from under his fingernails. Oh, how did he wish the blood that crusted over his fingertips was his own. 

Retreating from the porcelain sanctuary that was the shower, he donned his regs and exited. He numbly walked to his room and sat on his bed. The time passed, unconscious to him. A knock rang out in the small room, startling Johnny nearly out of his skin. 

“Come in,” he called out, his own voice sounding foreign to him.

The door creaked open and in walked his captain, the hat that usually sat upon his head now absent. It had been since the heli landed back on base. 

“How’re you holding up, son?” The elder man asked, taking a seat next to him on the bed. 

“I… I don’t know. It doesn’t feel real. I can’t believe it,” Johnny sighed, hanging his head.

Price’s hand rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a glinting piece of metal. The dog tags that had previously adorned the neck of Johnny’s lover. They had been buffed and shined to perfection, with all the blood from that night scrubbed away. While the blood and viscera were gone, the memories that were contained in the raised lettering on the tags still remained. The image of Simon’s body was still burned on the inside of Johnny’s eyelids. 

“He uh, didn’t have any surviving family we could find so they gave them to me to do with as I pleased. I think you could use them,” he placed them in Johnny’s hand, “for closure,”

His hand wound itself tightly around the dog tags, feeling the cool metal against his palm. In the back of his mind, he knew Simon was dead. He knew it was the end. But his heart wouldn’t believe it. The hope in his heart that the blond would walk through the door at any minute and speak to him in that Manchester accent just wouldn’t die. 

That hope didn’t die until the funeral. It wouldn’t die until he watched the casket be lowered into the ground. Then, as the dirt was shoveled on top of the ornately decorated casket, the hope of Simon returning to his arms would finally die. The reality set in. Simon was dead. Johnny finally cried that day.

It was like the tears wouldn’t stop after the funeral. They hadn’t stopped for three days. Johnny hid himself away in his room, sobbing into his pillow, begging whatever god might be listening to either give him Simon back or take him too.

The sadness of the loss was choking him. Clogging his lungs and suffocating him. He cried and cried. He cried until he had run out of tears to cry. The ever-consuming sadness soon replaced itself with anger. Burning anger. Anger that threatened to burn up Johnny and everyone else around him. 

Hours were spent in the gym, training, sparring, getting better. He needed to be better. He had already lost Simon, he wouldn’t lose anyone else. He spent time on the range as well, sighting every gun he could, tweaking them, making them perfect. His skills got better and better, his cleanliness on missions getting better and better. The anger fueled his need for revenge. When the rage had quelled, the fire had been put out, he moved to praying.

He prayed every night, for hours. His knees ached in the morning from kneeling on concrete and his hands cramped from squeezing the dog tags between them as he murmured wishes to any god who would hear him. Through tears, he would stare at the ceiling, hoping for answers. Hoping for a divine hand to reach down and soothe the pain that resided in his heart. He was lucky he couldn’t drink while on base, or alcohol would have become his god. Anything to soothe the pain. When anger had subsided, and prayers went unanswered, the dark veil of a depressive state had settled over Johnny’s mind.

Suddenly, nothing was worth it. No mission gave him a thrill. No conversation could spark a smile or joy within his chest. No friendly touch could move away the dark cloud that hung over his head. There were nights when the thought of walking into the armory under the cover of night had crossed his mind and stayed there. A plan. Walking there, finding what he needed, going to the rooftop where he and Simon had watched the sunset together, and ending it. Ending the pain he faced in his heart.

It was as if Price had read his mind and seen every dark, twisted, demented thought of revenge and suicide. He approached him one evening with an order.

“Johnny, you’re being put on indefinite leave. And you aren’t coming back until a psychiatrist has cleared you. I’m sorry, son, but you need help. More help than you can get on base.”

He packed his things that night, leaving without a word to his team. He was sent back to his home in Scotland where he had weekly meetings with a lovely woman named Cheyanne. In their sessions, they talked about how he was dealing with the loss. He was told to get a hobby. Something to distract him while he was home alone. He was given a list of ways to deal with the grief when it crept up on him like a prowling beast at night. 

“Okay, Mr. MacTavish, how have we been?” Cheyanne asked, sitting back in a plush leather chair in her office.

“I uh, had a bad week this week. It wasn’t good. Nothing I could do, no amount of painting or sketching could get the image out of my head. I’ll admit, I wanted a drink. God, did I want a drink. But I didn’t. I did what you said. I processed it. I worked through it all. I sat with the thoughts for a while.”

A smile danced across Cheyanne’s lips. “That’s good, Johnny, that is really good. You’ve made big strides. I think you’re almost ready to go back. That is if you’d like to go back.”

Did he want to go back? If he did, would he be the black sheep of the team? Would they judge him for needing help? After thanking Cheyanne and leaving the office, Johnny’s mind continued to race. He loved and missed his team dearly, every one of them. However, would they accept him back into the fold after a stint away?

Lying in his bed, staring at his ceiling, he made his decision. He would return for the rest of his deployment, and when reenlistment time came, he would make his final decision. Whether his stint in the military is done or not. If he left his 141 family. After the appointment with Cheyanne, she put the order through that he was ready to return to base.

The next Monday, Johnny drove himself back to the base, anxiety settling in his chest. Worry about the opinions of his found family. Before entering the base, he took a moment to steady his breathing and lower his heart rate. 

“It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.” 

This became his mantra, repeated over and over again in his head. Entering the barracks, he found his room and put his stuff down. His room at the barracks was much more familiar than his pay-by-month apartment. He had spent much more time in the barracks room than he had in that dull apartment with off-white walls and cream carpeting. While he put his belongings away, a knock on the door echoed through the small room.

“Come in,” Johnny called, his back to the door as he unpacked his duffle bag. 

Footsteps followed by the door shutting perked Johnny’s ears. “Good to have you back,” Gaz’s voice rumbled.

Johnny turned to his friend and smiled. “Good to be back, it was dull without you guys.”

The man before him chuckled. “You left a Soap shaped hole in the team. Should’ve seen us in training. We were a mess!”

Gaz filled Johnny in on everything he had missed, every stupid joke, every bar night, every good sparring match. The friendly conversation between them helped ease the anxiety that bubbled in Johnny’s stomach. It was like he had never left. The team treated him no differently than before he’d left.

There were no changes until the next mission. Johnny would be lying if he said he felt no anxiety going into the next mission. His mind was flooded with a thousand different thoughts. What if he missed another sniper? What if the comms went down? What exit points would exist if it goes sideways?

Price seemed to have noticed this, once again seeming to hear the thoughts in Johnny’s head. “You’ll be alright, lad. You’ve got a team behind you,”

The baritone voice of the captain comforted Johnny’s overworking mind. It slowed his thoughts and brought him back to the mission at hand. Get a USB drive out of a building and get out. Quick. Simple. Easy. The ease of the mission filled Johnny’s chest with pride. He could do this.

Upon entering the battle zone, Johnny’s mind went blank. His focus remained only on the mission. Any joke that came through the comms from Gaz or Price was swiftly ignored. He remained silent over the comms unless calling out positions or getting input from his teammates. It was different than before. He couldn’t bring himself to laugh when facing the gunfire of the enemy. With the lives of his teammates in his hands. This was the most glaring difference after Simon’s death.

Not only did Simon “Ghost” Riley die that night, but so did Johnny “Soap” MacTavish.

Tags: @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @sinclairbrosbathmat​

#mw2 #cod modern warfare #mw2022 #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #soap mw #soap mw2 #soap mwii #soapghost #ghostsoap #soap x ghost #ghost x soap #simon riley #johnny mactavish #ghost mw #ghost modern warfare

[thatsadbietch]

Sore Losers

I said I wanted to do another Animal Crossing or Dreamlight Valley fic, and ended up with Persona 5  🙃 It’s okay though, I love these two  💕

Warnings: None, other than tickles.  But I’m guessing that’s at least one reason you’re here.

“Ryuhohohojiheheh! Stoaoahahpp, I am yoohohohor leader!” Ren tried to scold, but it was awfully hard to appear threatening in a giggle fit like this.  The atomic blonde currently had his Joker pinned, using one hand to drill his thumb into a hip and the other hand to scurry across his shaking belly.

“Yeah, leader, all right,” he replied, “leader of cheating! A leader cheater, if you will.” Ren’s giggles reluctantly picked up at the stupidity of the comment.

“What the hell is going on up here?” Sojiro yelled, briskly climbing the stairs to his tenant/adopted son/part-timer’s room.  It was quite the sight, and to someone outside of the Phantom Thieves’ circle, might have appeared a bit risque. There was a “GAME OVER: PLAYER ONE WINS!” message across the TV, and a little 3 - 0 counter underneath the text. Two controllers lay forgotten next to the couch where an almost predatorial Ryuji was hunched over a red-faced and giggling Ren. 

They hardly acknowledged Sojiro’s appearance, but once Ren saw his frame come into view from the staircase his blush deepened.  Ryuji noticed his eyes shift and followed them, immediately upon realization jumping off of Ren and started rambling.

“S-Sojiro-san! This isn’t what it looks like, I swear, I-”

“Cool it, kid, I know exactly what’s going on up here.” Both teens were mortified, but for different reasons. Sojiro’s mischievous smirk was not helping, either.

“On paper, it’s my job to keep that one safe and out of trouble,” Sojiro started, pointing at the raven-haired boy.  “But just keep it down while I have customers, and I can allow for trouble of the “revenge of a sore loser” variety.”

“Whew, okay, thanks-HEY!?”

 “And I’m sure he still has a few secrets we haven’t found yet.”

Ren and Ryuji’s hearts leaped simultaneously, and the latter glared back at the former. “Oh yeah?”

Sojiro looked at Ren’s betrayed eyes. He sometimes forgets Ren was just a teenager, still very much a kid in some ways. But he took on so much more responsibility; a responsibility that most adults couldn’t handle. If they could, the Phantom Thieves may not exist in the first place.  Then he remembered how hard of a time he gave the boy after coming to Le Blanc and not believing his story.  He could go on a guilt trip about it, but he’d rather see Ren’s tension replaced with mirth at the moment.

“We haven’t tried his knees or feet yet.  Do with that what you will, I’m going to shut the door to the staircase, though,” Sojiro told Ryuji as he made his way back downstairs. Ren, having never seized the opportunity to stand, released an “Oomph!” as Ryuji pounced on his waist, facing away from him.

“Ryuji, please, doohohon’t, NOHOHO AHHAHAHA!”  Mercilessly and with a wicked cackle, Ryuji squeezed the soft area above Ren’s knees, causing an absolute explosion of laughter.  He reflexively brought up his knees, which did nothing to deter Ryuji’s ticklish grip, and brought his hands to grab futilely at his assailant’s shirt, unable to move much more than that.

“Ryhehehujihehe!” Joker cried, attempting to twist out from underneath his teammate.

“Nuh uh uh!” Ryuji scolded, pinching his calves. As it turns out, Ryuji found a not-quite-ticklish spot. Ren, still giggling, took the opportunity to hook his fingers into Ryuji’s hips, a recently discovered weak point of his.

“WaitwahehetWAHAHEHET NOHOHO! I KNEHEHEW YOU WERE A CHEHEHEATER!”

“You wound me, Ryuji,” Ren started, “I’m defending myself!  Why would I need to cheat?” He asked as if he was truly hurt by the accusation.  He continued to knead and tease his friend's hips, holding strong against every attempt Ryuji made to try to stand.

“Toohoo beheehat meehehehe!” Ryuji cried out, desperately trying to free his hips from Ren’s hands.  Ren, swiftly and cruelly, wormed his fingers under Ryuji’s waistline, just enough to contact the taught skin covering the hip bones.  Trading kneading for scratches with his dull fingernails nearly sent Ryuji into hysterics.  His cackle jumped up to a full-blown, unhindered belly laugh.

“Clearly, I don’t need to cheat to beat you. I’m just a natural at most things, it seems,” he teased.  He didn’t know exactly why, but he enjoyed antagonizing his friend this way, especially while he was coaxing out the most unabashed giggles from him. 

“Imagine if Shadows fought this way.  You wouldn’t have a chance,” Ren started, “All they would have to do is this,” and spidered his fingers along not just the hip bones, but up his sides and across is belly.  Ryuji screeched, trying to grab the offending hands while enduring a barrage of ticklish jolts that were turning his mind and muscles to mush. 

“YOHOHOU’RE ASKING FOHOHOR IT!”

“Even if I was, you aren’t so scary right now.  You’d think someone with the name Skull would be more of a threat.”  

That did it. Ryuji, mind still fuzzy, lunged forward, breaking out of Ren’s “lethal” grip.  He grabbed one of Ren’s ankles.  He scribbled all along his socked sole, hoping to throw his leader off guard.  Sure enough, Ren’s head was thrown back in a surprised yelp before devolving into bubbling, boyish giggles.

“Dohohohon’t! Quihihihit, Ryeeehehehujii!” Ren spat through his cackles, hoping not to hurt his friend with his spastic kicking. Ryuji, on the other hand, was glad to be catching his breath.  And while he regained breath, he also regained his deviousness.

“Don’t quit? Didn’t plan to, chuckles.”

“Nohoho nahahame calling!” Ren retorted.  He couldn’t reach Ryuji’s hips again from where he scooted forward to sit closer to his ankles.  Smart, so now he wouldn’t get kicked in the head, but it put Ren in a position without many options. 

“You want scary? I’ll give you scary!” Ryuji, fired up now that he had the upper hand again, shifted slightly so his wiggling fingers were in plain view, slowly descending toward Ren’s captured foot. Despite himself knowing this tactic, he couldn’t stop himself from giggling at such anticipation.  He yelped when Ryuji just barely grazed the tops of his toes, and the blonde assailant shot his hand back up to repeat the maddening process.

“And you want to talk about me! The Shadows would only have to think about tickling you and you’d be a mess!”

“Ryeehehehujihehe, pleeheheease!”

“Please what, fearless leader?”

“Geehehet on wiheheth it!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, dude. I’m not even touching you.” Though he tried, Ryuji couldn’t keep a straight face through the whole interaction.

Ren groaned, and ultimately resigned to his fate, however long that would take. But then he found his assailant’s own socked foot and grabbed his ankle.  Ryuji paused, and Ren took in several breaths, keeping his other hand poised for attack on Ryuji’s sole.

“Ihi’ll make your life reheally hard, don’t you dare,”  Ren smirked, noting the preliminary giggles lacing the threat. He twitched his fingers and Ryuji jumped.

“Another bad spot? You make a lot of threats for someone with so many weak points.”

“HA! You’re one to talk. At least I don’t deny it as it’s happening.” Ren only rolled his eyes and felt the blush that finally started to settle come back.

“Don’t be embarrassed or anything, dude. I’m not.  Makes us human, ya know?” Ren met his eyes and smiled genuinely, but twitched his fingers again on Ryuji’s sole, causing another jolt.

“Okay, bro moment’s over, you’re deHEHEHAHAHAD!” Ren, knowing he was instigating and still pinned, made sure to get the first move in.

“Don’t you mean a bro-ment?” Ryuji’s cackles, like Ren’s earlier, picked up at the pun.

“Yooohoohou deheheserve this!” Skull claimed, haphazardly tearing off Ren’s sock, skittering lightly from heel to toe. He immediately relented his own attack and squealed before his giggles came bubbling over. 

“You like that, huh?”

“NOOOHOOHOO I DOHOHON’T!” he denied, a little too vehemently. He didn’t understand how just a few well-placed swipes on such a small part of the body could render him to such a state. Whether Ryuji was aware or not, Ren wasn’t sure, but every time those malicious fingers wandered too close to his toes, his laughter kicked up an octave. Ryuji snickered.

“Dude, yoohoou make the best noises.  I could do this aaaaallllll day!”

“PLEHEHEASE DOHOHON’T!” Ren spat, tapping the couch, trying to signal he had enough.  Ryuji obliged immediately, finally removing himself from on top of his friend and sat on the floor to allow him to recover.  Ren, still catching his breath, shot up and put his sock back on, catching Ryuji’s glance.  Chuckling, Ryuji reached and patted Ren’s back reassuringly.

“*pant*... asshole... *pant*,”

“Ready for another round?” Ryuji asked.

“NO!” Ren boomed, already curling in on himself.  Ryuji was startled, but then laughed at his poor friend.

“Another round of the game, dude!”

#persona 5 #Tickling #ticklefic #lee!ryuji #lee!amamiya #lee!joker #lee!skull #lee!ren #ler!joker #ler!ryuji #ler!skull #ler!ren #ler!amamiya #persona 5 royal #tickle fluff #tickle

[twistedapple]

Since my fic will start 10 years prior to the events of Baldur's Gate 3, in Calimport, I've been brushing on my lore to make sure everything makes sense, but man. I'm lowkey afraid lore nerds will get on my ass, even though I'll be working with what is known of Calimshan at the moment (which uh isn't too great omg it's gonna be a FUN place of PAIN and MISERY. I'm definitely not planning some priestly shenanigans with the Church of Azuth (who's been reclaimed by Asmodeus so I think that'd be a fun way to introduce some very good reasons why devils can leech on the place).

Will political bullshit happen? Yes, because this is what gives me life. Will I keep my OC, Nuria, in a good light? Come on, she's gonna start as one of Shahrokh's hands. I'm intending some Atomic Blonde level of shenanigans, but she's not gonna be an angel. One of the main reasons she occupies her current place in Calimshanite society as of late 15th DR is because she's an air genasi, so part of the slaver class rather than the enslaved, it comes with its own unpleasant baggage. Once I reach the events of BG3, there's gonna be some mega cultural shock between her and the other party members. However, from a meta perspective, it means I'll have to partially pull on 4e lore because 5e doesn't do a lot beyond basic information when it comes to Genasi. I am considering homebrewing the Mingle with the Wind ability as well to play more on Nuria's djinn ancestry and contribute to her mobility considering what she's gonna be in terms of class/narration.

So, while I think her association with Raphael will be particularly funny to work on, I do expect lore nerds to akshually my ass, even though I'm currently trying to balance everything, so it makes sense. And if I greatly enjoy mulling over this whole Hellfire Storm business, I certainly don't have the energy to deal with people yelling at me because they personally take offense about a detail in my content lol

Anyway, guess I'll share a first sample this weekend. We'll see how it goes.

#not twisted wonderland #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 raphael #bg3 OC #bg3 OC nuria #not gonna reveal her full name yet hehehehe #istg if someone drops in my notes to akshually me instead of bringing proper constructive criticism #i will block on sight #the crappy twisted wonderland fandom made me work on that wonderful habit so I will not hesitate lol #nuria yr ashemmi el kacem

[vera-deville]

Vera's Hauntober 2023

Day 1 - Pumpkin (Katsuki Bakugou)

09/13/2023

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Word Count: 656

Warnings: Cursing ('cuz it's Katsuki)

Gender: AFAB

Taglist: @animusicnerd, @leonistic, @pyroxeene, @savanaclaw1996, @thequeenoffishburrito, @ellssbellss, @reshi-galaxy, @hanafubukki, @hitoshislover

"C'mon Katsuki!" Y/N yelled, pulling said blonde's arm.

It was supposed to be a quick errand. Go to the pumpkin patch, get the damn pumpkin, and come back. But unfortunately, Katsuki Bakugou did not take into account just how hyped his girlfriend would actually get when it came to it.

She was acting like one of those female leads in those horrible holiday rom coms that Y/N made him watch, who want to find "just the perfect tree." Except in this case, Y/N was trying to find the perfect pumpkin. Not the perfect evergreen. And she decided to drag her boyfriend along on her little pumpkin adventure.

Ain't life just swell?

"It's just a fucking pumpkin Y/N. They all look the same to me and they don't look infested with bugs, so just pick one and let's fucking go already." Katsuki tried cutting their errand short.

But that only seemed to make his life that much more unbearable, because all of a sudden, he'd accidentally awakened the pumpkin saint in Y/N and she wouldn't shut up about how it's "sacrilege to not see every single pumpkin and soak up each one's personality and find the perfect one that's meant to go home with them."

Bakugou honestly felt like they were looking for children to adopt, not pumpkins to decorate the house with-

But, having said that, Y/N did look like she was having the time of her life, so he figured he could let her live a little.

Not too much, though.

Thankfully, after just a little while, Y/N seemed to fall head over heels over a pumpkin (that still sounds so wrong in his head) and wanted to buy it. Great. They were finally done.

That is until Y/N spotted a corn maze and practically begged Katsuki if they could try it out.

"For fuck's sake, it's just a shit ton of corn bunched together. It's crappy and itchy as hell, why the fuck would you willingly want to go into that?" He asked the giddy girl who was practically vibrating on her feet.

"Because Katsuki..." Y/N drawled out. "Corn mazes are the epitome of Spooky Season. It is an unwritten law that one must visit a maze of some sort at least once during Autumn. And because I am your dutiful girlfriend, I will make sure you follow the said unwritten law.

Katsuki looked at Y/N's face. Those sweet eyes scrunched up, waiting for his reply, cheeks puffed out, lips glossy...

Say less.

Begrudgingly, Katsuki agreed to the corn maze. Begrudgingly.

After paying their fare to enter the maze, Y/N led the way as Katsuki followed, as though she'd been in the maze a million times. It wouldn't surprise Katsuki if she actually had. Seeing the confidence on his girlfriend's face, he let her take him wherever she wanted.

That was until he remembered that his girlfriend had shit sense of direction-

But by the time Katsuki had remembered, it was already too late. Y/N had gotten them lost. In the middle of a corn maze. Where at all sides, he's being attacked by hay fever inducing atoms.

"Y/N I swear to fucking god, I'm never doing this shit with you ever again. I thought you fucking knew where you were going dumbass!" Katsuki screeched.

"I'm sorry! I thought I knew where we were going! Here, maybe this way is the exit-" Y/N said. She could practically see the steam emitting from Bakugou, and she was trying not the push his buttons more than she already had.

Half an hour later, the pair were still somehow lost. And Katsuki Bakugou had run out of patience.

"FUCK THIS GOD DAMN CORN MAZE!" Was the last thing Y/N heard before she was surrounded by flames and embers and a very burnt down corn maze.

At least they found their exit now-

Author's Note: I'm super excited to kick off this event! You may have noticed that some of the dates in some of these fics predate October, and that's because I had been working on them well in advance and queued them for each day of October (that way I don't miss any of the days).

I'll admit, I'm not the biggest fan of how the conversation turned out in this fic, but that's alright because from now on, I've got 30 more days to work on that!

See you in the next fic!

Masterlist Hauntober 2023 Masterlist

#hauntober #vera's hauntober 2023 #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #pumpkins #pumpkin patch #corn maze #fluff #crack #reader #y/n #vera deville #the marchioness #2023