#Plastic Knife Escapades

[afterhourswjay]

Murdock x Ex-Assassin!Serial killer! Reader - Headcanons/Drabble

Warnings: murder, violence, gore

I like to imagine that Murdock sticks to killing in the southern states whereas you excel in killing in the north, like both in Canada and in the states

You two aren't all that familiar with each other. You don't kill in areas where Murdock is currently hanging out

You're referred to as Oleander by police since your preferred method of killing is by poisoning people. Not that you don't also kill by traditional methods, you just prefer to stick with what you're more experienced at

You specialize in killing corrupt politicians (of whom you kill their entire immediate family and drain all bank accounts of money). Now that you're no longer an assassin, tho, you kill indiscriminately. If, however, someone wants to 'hire' you to kill a specific person, they need to have the money for you upfront and they cannot double cross you... duh. You have no qualms about killing them if they can't follow one of your rules

You'd just lured a victim off the streets and into your 'den'. You recently got pissed off by a guy in a long, dark coat. And sunglasses. In a local grocery store. Only douchebags wear sunglasses inside... Well, and those with vision problems, but that's off topic

You usually kill with finesse, and poise. Not today, tho. Today you are pissed off, and as you drag your latest victim to the basement you grab your baseball bat

You've dragged out their death as much as you can, so you whack them over the back of the head with the bat. Because it's an aluminum bat, you didn't need to put too much excessive force behind the hit, but uh... You kinda caved in the back of their skull

Your just about to get cleaning up when you pick up the sound of movement upstairs. It's gonna be BAD if the police decided to show up. You carefully, and quietly, move around

First things first is to put the bat down. Then you grab one of your knives. You then quietly make your way to the stairs of the basement, and you flip every breaker in the electrical box as you pass it

Thank god, you're more adept at moving around in pitch black environments then the average person. You make your way up the stairs. When you get to the landing, you hear a crash, thud, and a hiss of 'fuck' coming from the living room

You tiptoe your way towards the silhouette in your living room, raising your knife and preparing to plunge it down into their back. Suddenly, your arm is being grabbed and the room spins as you get flipped over onto your back. Snarling, you shove the knife towards the person only for them to easily snatch it from your grip with a snicker.

"Really? You're really going to stab me??"

You blink owlishly at him. "I mean, I'm not as proficient at stabbing people, but I think I do pretty good."

"Mmm, and yet, you're on the floor under me..." You can practically hear the smirk in is voice.

"Wait, who the hell are you and why are you in my house??"

"What, you haven't heard of me? My names Murdock, best you don't forget it. As for what I'm doing here, would you believe me if I told you that I'm laying low??"

You gently shove yourself out from under Murdock and stand up. "No, no I would not. I don't think killing someone in their own home is the way you go about 'laying low'." You grab your knife from the killer, and you wander back to the basement to turn the power back on. "By the way, you're awfully far north. Something happen??"

You didn't take Murdock to be someone who was talkative, but apparently the mans liked to chat. He followed you from the living room to the basement, not making any comment on the dead body when the lights got turned on. He did, however, make an offhand comment on how well you covered everything in plastic before going back into chatting about his latest escapade. You had heard about it from a friend who also happened to be an acquaintance of his, so you could tell when he added embellishments to his story. You mostly tuned him out as you worked on cleaning up, offering occasional hums of agreement and even a comment sometimes.

"Can you help me with this real quick? There's a hole in the wall over there that I plan on moving the washer and dryer in front of when I'm done patching it up."

"Really? Your gonna leave a trail??"

You shrug in response. "Running from the cops is half the fun. Besides, if all goes according to plan, I'll be halfway around the world by the time they find him."

Murdock simply offers you a hum of acknowledgement as you both grab both ends of the plastic and shove it into the wall on the far end of the room. You stand and turn to him, squinting your eyes slightly when you realize he's standing a bit closer than before.

"Welp, that's that for now. I'll get the supplies to repair the hole tomorrow. You wanna join me for a bite to eat, and some wine before you have to go?"

#jays thoughts #iswm part 2 #iswm 2 fanfiction #murderplier #murderplier x reader #murderplier x gn!reader #serial killer reader #reader is a serial killer #reader kills people #reader is gender neutral #reader is an adult #iswm #ends abruptly whoops #didn't know how to end it #in space with markiplier part 2 #ambiguous ending #tw mentions of serious injuries #tw murder #markiplier fanfiction #markiplier ego fanfic

[undiscovered-horizon]

Imagine living together with Bucky. Your idyllic daily life is disturbed one night when people from his past break in while you're home alone.

11:14 pm

Bucky still hasn't come home since he left shortly before noon. Naturally, you did worry about him, although the reasonable side of you tried to downplay the quiet anxiety nibbling on your pace: situations like this weren't out of the ordinary. You haven't been living together for long but you have already grown familiar with his, truthfully, conspicuous escapades. At the same time, you have learned that there was no reason to worry yourself sick: maybe he was still gone at 2:00 am but when you woke up at 9:00 am, he was sound asleep next to you, safe and sound.

And so tonight wasn't anything out of the ordinary. The general rule of the thumb was evening news: if Bucky didn't show up for them, he was going to be back home in the early morning hours. So when the intro played on the TV, you sighed to yourself and made tea. While the water was being brought to boil, you put his portion of the diner in a plastic container to put into the fridge.

As you were about to sit down again and watch the news, a doorbell rang through your flat. Who could want something at this hour? You and Bucky moved in fairly recently and recognized maybe 2 or 3 neighbors. The doorbell was still ringing when you unlocked the door and opened it.

Before you stood a young man, maybe in his late twenties. He was wearing a beanie and a denim jacket. A backpack was thrown over his shoulder.

"Hey, were you maybe given a package for a Mike Whithall? I live on the floor below, the delivery guy called me and said he left my package at one of my neighbor's but he failed to tell me which neighbor exactly." The man laughed awkwardly.

"No, sorry, no delivery man here today," you answered. "Hope you find it." You started to slowly close the door.

"Right, thanks for the help. And sorry for interrupting. Good night." The stranger gave you an awkward smile and left. You made sure to lock the door for the night.

The rest of the evening was painfully uneventful. Ready to call it a day and go to the bedroom, you left your mug in the sink ("I'll wash it in the morning.") and headed to bed.

You were sound asleep until around 3:00 am when you were woken up by ambiguous, suspicious sounds outside your door. It reminded you of the rattling of keys and scratching the lock with them: a cacophony one could connect with a drunk person being unable to put the key into the lock. Not really understanding what could be the source of the sound, you got out of bed and consciously made your way out of the bedroom, through the living room, and into the hall. The front door, and whatever it was that rattled on their other side, merely meters ahead of you. There was an open window in the kitchen: you could hear the usual sounds of nightlife. Unsure of the nature of the situation you have found yourself in, you did not bother to turn on the light. The orange light of street lamps reflected off of the laminated flooring in the hall.

You stood there. Listening.

That curiosity of yours, however, quickly grew into dread as you heard faint whispers behind the front door. Whoever those voices belonged to, Bucky was not one of them.

Realizing what actually was going on, you could feel the fight or flight reflexes taking you over. Your brain was telling you that you can either hide or fight back. And although your spirit was ready to take down whoever dared to barge into your home, your reason knew that idea wasn't too clever: you know neither how many there are nor whether they are armed. Not to mention the very real possibility of them being actually taught how to fight.

When you regained control of your body, there wasn't much time left. You grabbed your phone, a knife from a stand on the kitchen island and ran for the bathroom.

Intruders rarely check behind the shower curtain.

With hands trembling from both the anxiety and adrenaline, you managed to quickly text Bucky the code word for such instances: cauldron. When the two of you decided to move in together, Bucky (being the old-fashioned man he is) already knew he could trust you with his life and genuinely hopes you felt the same. That's why he came up with several code words for situations that were a real, possible danger considering who he was.

The second thing you did was, quite obviously, call the police. Whispering into the phone, you told them your situation and address, and could only hope they would treat the call as seriously as it was for you.

Now all you could do was wait.

Although you were behind closed doors, and the intruders tried their best to be quiet, you could still hear their steps and whispers. It wasn't a surprise to you when you realized they talked about an enigmatic him to each other. It was probably at that very moment that you understood the very real danger of committing to a man like James Barnes: this wasn't going to be the last time someone tries to find him. And it won't always be quiet intruders.

"She must be here somewhere," one of the men said. Oddly enough, his voice sounded similar to the Mike Whithall you talked to earlier.

Your heart stopped for a second only to beat again at a much higher frequency. They were probably watching your flat, and as they haven't seen you leave, it was only logical to be sure you were somewhere inside these four walls. Right now, it was a race between the intruders, Bucky, and the police. Unfortunately, you were the prize.

One of the men entered the bathroom. You were sure your covers is going to be blown in the next 3-5 minutes. The grip you had on the knife handle tightened.

(Y/N) IS NOT going down without a fight. She's not that kind of person.

As the man approached and gripped the shower curtain, one of his friends yelled something incomprehensible that distracted the hound hunting you.

Then you too were distracted: you had clearly heard something or someone being thrown at the wall. Judging from the brute force, Bucky was faster than the responding officers.

The man holding the curtain hesitated. Should he help his friend or hold you hostage? He must have decided on the latter, as the gloved arm pulled back the curtain in one move.

He pointed a gun at you, as you firmly held the knife and looked him dead in the eye. There was a red symbol on his jacket that resembled an octopus or something similar. It wasn't a fair fight but no one expected it to be.

Bucky barged into the bathroom in such a manner, you were sure he was the angriest he could ever possibly be. His metal arm grabbed the stranger's collar and threw him out of the room. The rest of the fight was in the living room, and so you couldn't see it.

Not that you wanted to, honestly. It was enough for you that the next morning you will have to wash at least half of the apartment and blood doesn't come off easily. It always leaves stains, for some reason.

When the flat grew silent, you cautiously crawled out of the shower. Was it over for them or for you?

The answer came rather quickly as you felt a pair of arms cradling you, one of which was metal. You let out the breath you were unaware of even holding. The two of you were fine.

"I was scared," Bucky whispered as he firmly held you close. "More scared than I have ever been. I would never forgive myself, or them, if anything were to happen to you. If even a single strand of hair fell out of your head, I would be willing to do the most horrible things. I can't afford to lose you too, love."

Outside the window, you could hear police sirens. Their blue and red lights lit up your otherwise dark apartment. You weren't scared anymore.

#james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #bucky imagine #bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #mcu #marvel #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers fanfic #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine

[give-grian-rights]

What is Grian lore and where the hell do I start with it? I’ve been watching s7 of hermitcraft and I had no idea there was lore,,,,,,

Grian has been involved in... a.. LOT.. of series. So Grian Lore is a combination of three (or four if you’re able to stomach one but i refuse to talk about it) Minecraft roleplays, and one SMP before Hermitcraft.

Grian, the Minecraft persona, has a LOT of lore because of all this so..

Yandere: A prequel series to Yandere High School. Grian is 6-7 in preschool because his parents were having a divorce and,, uh. just sent him to Japan and didn’t wanna deal with him

Yandere High School: Grian comes back to Japan, to visit his friends Sam and Taurtis. He promptly gets scared off but agrees to come back for Halloween, against his better judgment. He comes back for Halloween, and it is then that Sam stabs Taurtis. In disbelief and refusal to admit what he’s done, he forces Grian to dress up as Taurtis. Sam makes him eat plastic, and says “if you’re not taurtis, you’re nothing!” and basically spends days calling Grian worthless and a disappointment. Meanwhile, Grian doesn’t know if the real Taurtis is alive or dead. During this time he’s also threatened at knifepoint whenever he says he’s not Taurtis.

A lot more happens in Yandere High School, Tokyo Soul (Season 2) and Yandere (Prequel), but in short some events include: -Being held hostage in Japan by his two childhood friends -His parents abandoning him basically since the age of 6 -Dating a non-binary fortune teller cryptid lad for a while and gets in a knife fight for them -Joined a gang -Was forced to become the identity of someone else Sam attacked and actually killed -Haunted by the ghost of Sam and Taurtis’ dead teacher that tried to hang them -Kills like. Four people -Joined witness protection program with the other two (+ Dom. Dom’s awesome). Was shipped off to the wrong country but Sam made him come back -Said he’s “more into dudes” because of his escapade with Ellen, the non-binary datemate of his from the previous season -Sacrificed someone to like a ghost or demon or something that was possessing a costco -Got possessed by a demonic book -Helped cause the end of the world -Became an immortal, unkillable entity with him, Taurtis, and Sam being the only survivors of the destruction of their world. Spared by Cthulu, who Taurtis’ rejected clone had summoned, they were gifted immortality and their house floating on a chunk of land remains the only proof of life in their universe.

And then there’s EVO.. which is an SMP that Grian started previous to being invited to Hermitcraft. It started in like,, basically, the earliest version of Minecraft that allowed servers to be created.

Entities called Watchers left clues around the world that would lead the Evolutionists to a portal to go to a newer version of Minecraft. After around,, 50ish episodes I believe, when the Evolutionists got to the update when the End was added, they went to attack the dragon. Grian was separated from the rest of his friends and had to defeat the dragon by himself. When he hopped through the portal, he joined the ranks of the Watchers and that was his departure from Evo. Joining the ranks of the demi-god like creatures.

So yeah grian lore runs fucking DEEP and my friend and I need to get back to writing the PowerPoint presentation for Grian Lore™

#there's a FUCKING LOT #god -slaps top of grian- this bad boy can fit so much suffering in it! #tw knives #tw death #tw parental abandonment #idk if that's a trigger but better safe than sorry #griangst #grian lore #grian #hermitcraft #evo smp #evo grian #yhs #yandere high school #yhs grian #fumblr #hermitblr #hermitcraft grian

[alecxaheart]

Someone's Someone | Bang Chan Oneshot (1)

✎ Genre : CEO AU, Soulmate AU, Fluff

✎ Pairings : Bang Chan X Reader

✎ Word Count : 3.5k words

✎ Synopsis : We all just wanna be someone's someone that we can't live without. At this time, Chan was looking for his. And unexpectedly, he was already tied down to someone.

✎ Warnings : Explicit Language

✎. . . I actually just played my songs on shuffle then Monsta X's Someone's Someone played so.. yeah, I'm inspired. Also, this is my first post in tumblr btw. :)

✎ Parts : 1 , 2

The relaxing sounds of nature enveloped him as a whole. His shoulders less tense and eyes closed as he sat on the cooled sand, facing the burning star and calm waters ahead. Seagulls could be heard in the distance as they caught themselves a dinner to eat. The refreshing cool wind hit his body, slightly making him shiver for a second. Waves, created by the sea and wind, kisses the shore repeatedly. For once, he was far away from worries, stress, fears and regrets. Just him, contented with the company of nature.

As he fluttered his eyes open, he was met with a stunning view of the sun meeting the ocean. The ocean reflecting the sun's visuals as well as the sky above it. Even though the reflection was blurry, it's still pleasing to the eye. Just perfectly imperfect.

However in his opinion, it wasn't stunning as it seems. This secret escapade paradise of his doesn't quite appeal to him yet. A missing piece that could be anywhere on this wide world. That thought kind of bothers him every time.

Sighing, he figured that it was time to go back. He slipped onto his slippers and headed out of his escapade paradise with a head hung low. Hopping on an enormous boulder that happened to break the wired fence and fixated there, having easier access to and from the place than climbing over the fence.

With a last glance towards his escapade, he knew he'll be coming back and that next time will be the scenery he's been looking for, hopefully.

Frustrated with the task at hand, Chan ran his fingers through his blonde locks as he leaned back on his chair and head facing upwards toward the ceiling. Taking a brief break from a whole 6 hours straight of writing and staring at the monitor. Followed by him grabbing his coffee and taking a sip, eyes boring on the monitor. He was just half finished with his paperworks at the time of nightfall, which made him more in distress and felt crammed.

His eyes then wandered around his office, landing onto the view of the opposite building of his company in the end. Where he could see the workers of the Marketing Department bidding their goodbyes to one another, closing the lights and exiting the room. Oh, how much he too wanted to leave and rest right at this moment. Although his belief of 'getting things done before going into slumber' is preventing him to do so (even though he already got a lot of things done). With a sigh, he faced back in front of his monitor and papers, determined to get everything done before tomorrow starts.

" Sunbae-nim, aren't you coming with us? We're having dinner at the Chicken & Barbecue restaurant just a block away from here. " Seungmin asked, grabbing his suitcase below his desk. You leaned back on your chair while stretching your cramping arms and a yawn escaping your mouth.

" As much as I want to, Seungmin, I can't, " You started, rubbing your temples to ease your aching head. " Because our new boss literally gave me 5 thick documents to finish before tomorrow morning without any mercy. And that's just bullshit. I don't even think I'm halfway through it! " Seungmin replied with a chuckle to your short rant, an amused expression written on his soft face. You were having another small mental breakdown as you stared at your unfinished pile of work, feeling your soul escape your body.

" I think you're overreacting. "

" Well, what if I am?! "

Laughing, Seungmin leans his side on your cubicle, looking over at your messy desk filled with sticky notes, papers and pens. " I don't think it's that much. You're lucky that your boss isn't here to hear any of your complaints, " He muttered as he took a peek at one of your documents. You scoffed, not my fault that I'm not as good as you.

" Hear what? "

Frantically, you immediately hide yourself behind your cubicle and pretend that you were focusing on your work. On the other hand, Seungmin casually brushed his navy blue coat with his palms and lifted himself off from the cubicle. Making it all seem like nothing happened.

" Oh, it's nothing, Ms. Ka- " Seungmin paused as he met the owner of the voice who wasn't the person they were expecting to be there. " M-Mr. Bang?! " He stuttered, eyes widened at the blonde headed CEO. Seeing in the corner of your eyes, Seungmin bowed ninety degrees at him as a sign of respect. Even with his heated glare on you, you continued your work like no CEO even entered. Thanks to your cute height, for sure you wouldn't be spotted.

" What are you doing here? Working hours are done. "

Seungmin stood straight and scratched the back of his head. Curiosity slowly arose in you as seconds passed - since you've never met a CEO called by your colleague as ' Mr. Bang ' - although as much as possible, you didn't let go out of hand and kept your focus on the documents silently. The least thing you wanted to happen to you right now is get caught by one of the company's CEO. " I was about to head out, Mr. Bang, " Finding an excuse, he pulled up his sleeve to check the time on his wristwatch. " Uhm.. Yeah, I'm late for dinner. Sorry, Mr. Bang, I have to leave right now. Have an great night! "

With a last bow to the CEO, Seungmin dashed his way out of the building, leaving you alone with your work. The blonde head noticed how the room was still lit up despite it being unoccupied, which he thought. Heading to the switches, everything around you darkened. The only source of light you had was the monitor, and Chan caught it in the corner of his eye.

" Is someone still there? " His voice, catching a bit of foreign accent with it, echoed in the hushed area.

Baffled as he approached that light with a few slow strides, you freaked out mentally. Swiftly but silently, you left your chair and hid yourself underneath the desk next to yours. As he neared your cubicle, you held your breath, slowly starting to feel lightheaded. You don't know what are the consequences if you get caught after working hours since you're still kind of new - got hired just 5 months ago. Dumb you overthink random shit first before even going to the thing called 'common sense' and the rules you heard just goes in one ear then out on the other.

The moment Chan was about to reach your cubicle and take a glance to his right, the sound of marimba playing a soft tune echoed in the room. Stopping in his tracks, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and grabbed it, swiping to the right to answer the call. You let out a hushed yet shaky sigh of relief, your shoulders less tense than a while ago. In your mind played a chant, thanking whoever was your savior.

Chan narrowed his eyes at the back of your cubicle while his phone is still pressed against his ear, listening to the person on the other line's complaints. " I'm on my way. Don't do anything stupid, " Not too soon you hear heels clacking against the polished marble tiles, the noise fainting as he left the room.

It took you a good couple of seconds to get out of your hiding spot (since you had to catch your breath and calm your heart down from the thrill), slightly shaking your whole body first before heading back to your seat and continuing your pile of work. Mentally groaning at yourself.

Oh. My. Gosh. These. Eyebags.

Is the first thing you thought as you looked at yourself in the mirror. The cause of it appearing badly because you obviously lacked sleep. All due to the time allotted for slumber was consumed by finishing your 5 thick documents that will be passed this morning. You could've cared less if today wasn't a work day, which fortunately for you it was still work day and these damn documents aren't gonna pass themselves to your boss this instant.

Fumbling around in your bag, you found your makeup kit and started fixing yourself. A little bit of touch ups here and there, just a little to look like it's still more natural than a lot to look like a plastic doll barbie.

Once satisfied, you smiled sweetly at yourself just to start your day nicely and exit your household. While walking on your way to the train station, incoherent mumbling leaves your mouth. A train of thoughts clouding you about your worries if you've left something important behind. In all honesty despite of your current good looks, you look stupid or crazy for talking to yourself in public. Well, at least you aren't as worse as someone yelling nonsense.

" I have all my files, identification card, phone, wallet, pocket knife 'cause anything could happen, keys- " you paused as soon as you misplaced your shoes at the edge of the last stair, falling forward. Luckily for you, you caught yourself and regained your balance. Wide eyed, you saw a kid, a giddy smile plastered on his face as he saw your commotion with a lollipop in hand. You felt embarrassed but laughed it off anyway, a light tint of pink decorating your cheeks.

You rushed towards the gates as soon as you realized the time with the card in between your fingers. Three beeps emitted from the machine when the gates opened after you placed the card on the scanner. With a few more strides, you caught up to your train ride as it was about to leave. You sighed in relief and sat down on a vacant bench, head automatically leaning back on the window. Your eyes boring at the ceiling while taking steady breaths after your short marathon on the way.

On the other hand, across you sat Chan. His right leg crossed over the other while scrolling through his phone. He wore a button up shirt, the first two still unbuttoned revealing more of his chest. His navy blue tie hung loose around his neck while his coat is still folded around his arm. His slacks were the same color as his tie and coat and wore black pointed shoes to finish the statement of his overall clothing. Blonde hair locks were scattered around his face but still managed to look stunning and attractive.

You haven't noticed his presence, so did he to you, and the fact that you both don't know each others' appearance even though you go to the same company just adds to the reason for you two's ignorance to one another's existence.

You got yourself to go back to slumber comfortably in your current position although you know when you wake up, you'll be greeted by your neck aching. Hopefully you don't miss your stop while gaining more sleep. The train swaying you lightly from time to time that you found quite relaxing, like a cradle rocking back and forth lightly to put a baby to sleep.

A child was running around the train with a joyful smile, giggling. He only stopped in his tracks when he reached in between you and Chan. His eyes glowed like there were stars decorated around his chocolate brown pupil when he eyed you two. Looking around, he spotted a roll of red thread underneath your bench and grabbed it. He thought it was just right.

With you being the closest, he starts to tie the thread around your pinky finger. You were too tired to even feel his small cold fingers run around your fingers nor the string tighten around it. Once done, he smiled to himself, his dimples appearing on either side of his cheeks and eyes forming into small crescents.

He left your side and skipped over in front of Chan, who was now too deep in thought as he gazed outside the window and his phone tucked in his pocket. Holding the other end of the thread, he wrapped it around Chan's thumb. Chan's body shook in surprise as he felt cold fingers ghosting above his hand and averted his attention to the child. He saw him knotting the red string tightly, strange that he barely even feels the string tightened around his thumb. " What are you doing? " he questioned although the child only responded with a bright smile, followed by a giggle.

The child turned and ran away from him, more giggles leaving his lips. Chan stood up and tried to chase him. But stopped as soon as he saw the child in the distance, dissolving into little particles in thin air and completely vanished in his sight. In disbelief, he rubbed his eyes and looked for the child around his area. Thinking that he was out of his mind, he sighed in defeat. There's no way anyone could do that in reality. It's either I'm insane or living in a fantasy or a chosen one blessed to see ghosts. Maybe, all of the above.

Chan looked down on his thumb, following where the other end lead to. Then, he spotted your sleeping beauty state, the other end attached to your pinky finger. With the sun rising in the horizon, a ray of gold-like light shines through the window, casting a shadow on you. And he thought you looked mesmerizing like that, peaceful and lovely. At least he wasn't tied up with a bitch or a hag.

Your eyes slowly fluttered open as the sun shined upon you. Squinting at its brightness, you raised a hand above your eyes to see more, only finding a red string wrapped around your pinky finger. You examined it, wondering what prank is anyone even planning and why did it have to involve you out of all people. Before anything stupid could happen, you attempted to loose the knot, ignoring the curiosity for a while of where the other end was. Looping and tugging it, even tried to chomp on it with your teeth, but all attempts failed. Well, that's until you gave up, untying it was impossible, unbelievably there's a knot that couldn't be untied. Sounded like marriage when you think about it, but there's the annulment and divorce ruining the picture.

Tearing your gaze at the string, you caught a pair of bewitching dark brown eyes staring back at you. In that particular moment, everything just froze in place. Time has stopped just for the two of you, you thought.

You felt your heart melting, probably from the warmth emitting in your body or from the warmth his eyes give off as you saw little sparks decorating the pupil. Unfamiliar light feathers tickling the insides of your stomach is what you felt other than the heat and that thawing heart of yours. Your mind knew it well that you shouldn't feel this way towards someone who you just met but your body and heart reacted so differently. There's just something about him that made you feel so exposed and vulnerable in his eyes that you couldn't come up with a possible answer to your 'why's.

Both of you didn't notice how seconds turned into minutes, too lost into one another's orbs. That was until the train stopped, causing Chan to break the eye contact and lose his balance. Before his hands made contact on the metal floor, he took a step forward in order to regain his balance which he successfully did. A small chuckle left your lips, eyes turning into crescents as you saw the commotion. He narrowed his eyes at you as the train was back in motion.

Chan fixed his clothes first before asking, " Who are you? ". Grabbing the pole next to him to prevent him from falling again on the next stop.

" Shouldn't I be asking you that as well? " You replied with a gummy smile, which quickly faded when you remembered what's the problem.

" What is this on my finger and why is it connected to yours? What kind of trickery is anyone pulling? Why am I involved in this? " You kept firing questions at him while he stayed there unbothered. Unlike you who did some more attempts to remove the thread, silly you even tried aggressively shaking your hand in hopes of making it a little loose. But no prevail happened once again.

" Just get rid of it. I didn't want this too, you know. " Chan taps his foot impatiently as he eyed your useless attempts.

" I am trying! " You exaggerated. Deciding to bring out the best tool you have for the situation in hand, your hands fumbling in your bag. Once you felt the cool metal on your fingertips, you brought it out and flipped it open.

Chan's eyes widened at the sight of the pocket knife in your palms. " You carry that on a daily basis? Are you insane? "

You rolled your eyes in annoyance. " It's not insane when it's used for self-defense purposes. I'm too nice to be the murderer you're assuming, " You replied, head throbbing as things aren't going well with the charming blonde.

He responded just before the blade and thread were in contact, starting with a scoff. " Yeah sure, nice. Anyone can wear that façade anywhere. "

" You know what, " You started as you withdrew the pocket knife back and glared at him afterwards, pissed off. " You deal with this shit yourself, I'm done with my part and I could care less about this red thread anyway. You look like you don't need any of my help 'cause you look fancier than me and it seems like you're not taking any gratitude towards my kindness. Damn these crazy rich people. " You threw the tool towards his direction and looked away from him, arms crossed. Chan instinctively caught it without getting any cuts despite the fact it's closed, his eyes burning through your figure in fury.

" If I actually got wounded instead from your little stunt, I would've sued you this instant, " He growled, only to be ignored by you.

Irritated by your sudden change of attitude, Chan flipped it open and skillfully ran the blade through the string. Only for it to just fall through like the string never existed, ghost-like perhaps. " It's not cutting, what the hell, " Chan muttered under his breath as he tried a few more times again.

"It's just a string, how could a- " You spoke as you turned your head back to his direction, only to be cutted off as you witnessed the unusual. Mouth a little bit agape in disbelief. The thread didn't fall apart even while the blade was just sitting in between of it on air. Maybe that explains why you could barely even feel the thread wrapped securely around your finger. You could tell that this stunning blonde head was just as puzzled as you were.

" Sir, if you're having any problems that includes this woman, we can sort it out. Just withdraw the knife first please, " a man suddenly blurted out, his voice a little bit shaky. That's when you realized the commotion you both have caused, everyone around you two took steps back away. All had fear in their eyes.

" Wait, you don't see the thread we're trying to cut? " Chan questioned, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. At that, he was more misunderstood.

" There's no thread..? " With that, it got the two of us surprised. Is the crazy one here them, who couldn't see this string, or us, who could?

Chan tried to explain our situation thoroughly but when he was about to speak up, out of the blue, a voice spoke in the speakers. " Please mind the gap, " You immediately grabbed his arm, carried his belongings and dragged him out of the train. Leaving its passengers confused as they eyed us. They might be thinking that you two are idiots.

The doors just shut a second later when you two got out. You felt a bit suffocated for an unknown reason, your hand reaching for your chest where you could feel your heart beating. Panting, you shoved Chan's belongings into his chest. " Are you alright? " He asked as he tried to place a hand on your back, the least thing he could do to comfort you.

But his hand only stopped in mid-air when you took your last deep breath, replying. " Let's just part ways here, " Saying those words felt a bit disheartening at some point, yet you chose to disregard it.

You walked forwards, while Chan stayed in his position, wearing his coat and fixing his tie. Although, something stopped you. As in you couldn't go forwards as much as you force to. Well when you did force yourself, it only tugged Chan towards you. Turning around, he was already eyeing you. " What was that for?! "

Glaring at the thread, you thought out loud, " Is this string telling me, it can only stretch itself approximately at 7 meters?! "

Continue

#stray kids #skz chan #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #bang chan #chan #stray kids bang chan #stray kids chan #stray kids oneshot #bang chan imagines #bang chan oneshot #stray kids oneshots #kpop oneshot #kpop imagines #kpop #skz #kpop scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids bang chan scenarios #skz fluff #fluff #ceo au #soulmate #soulmate au #straykidznet #sk-writersnet #alecxaheart

[yet-another-fan-girl9]

Inhuman (2)

Summary: All beings in the universe have a soulmate except for Midgardians. People can hear their soulmate in their heads. For almost five hundred and fifty years, Loki believed that he had no soulmate until 1513 when a Midgardian princess was born. Will fate be kind to them or will the universe tear them apart?

Warnings: violence, language, hella historical inaccuracies (I tried to do research but then got lazy), maybe some AOS season 2 spoilers(?)

Word Count: ~3600

A/N: Not a lot of Reader in this chapter. Please tell me what you think! I love hearing from you guys and it keeps me motivated!

[New York, March 2024]

“We can’t find her,” Steve said as he walked back into the flower shop. Everyone else followed the Captain in.

The flower girl took a quick gasp at the heroes in her shop but Natasha gave her a soothing rub on the back. Nobody wanted to deal with a hysterical flower girl. Luckily, the woman who had killed Anderson hadn’t knocked over any plants in her hurry and the shop was still in one piece. Nat stood up and gave the woman one last look to make sure she wasn’t about to break down again and then the Avengers filed out of the shop.

There was a small crowd when they walked out onto the street. People were taking photos and videos of the ruined cafe. Their phones turned to the heroes, though, when they were spotted.

“Stark, can you get the security video from the cafe?” Steve ordered. “Wanda and I will talk to the baristas. Everyone else either deals with the crowds or examines the cafe.” Everyone nodded and went off to their respective jobs.

Inside the cafe, Anderson lied dead in a large pool of his own blood. Nat started to snap pictures of the bodies and damages. Behind the counter, she found a pair of plastic gloves and made a small show of putting them on. Bucky just picked up the bullet casings with his metal hand.

Nat gingerly moved Anderson’s head to get a clearer view of his neck wound. He had definitely died of blood loss due to the wound which was definitely inflicted by a knife. She looked around the room and her eyes landed on one of Anderson’s goons. A simple, black knife sat in his forehead. Nat walked over to the body and pulled the knife from his head and held it up to show Bucky.

“Think we can run this for prints?” She asked.

“Yeah, there might be some bags behind the counter.” There were. “Have you seen the bullet wounds in each of the security guys? All straight through the forehead.”

“Same with the fourth guy with this knife.”

“There are plenty of bullet casings from the securities’ guns but only three from another. She fired three times, each one hitting its mark.”

“So she’s a good shot,” Nat surmised.

“Are you guys done in there?” Sam asked through the broken window. The two ex-assassins rolled their eyes and joined everyone else outside.

“I got the security feed, obviously, but Cap also got a video from one of the baristas, right?” Tony reported.

“She just wanted to get Steve’s number,” Wanda laughed.

“Okay, we can go back to the compound to compare notes,” Steve suggested.

They all nodded and went back to the quinjet, the sounds of excited civilians and their cameras following them.

🌹

"Please let me come with you to see your home," she begged at the end of one of their meetings. They stood in the forest. Far enough in where they wouldn't be spotted but still close enough to the edge to be safe from wild animals.

"I wish I could. I really do. But I can’t.”

“Why not?” She knew how she sounded. Her mother always warned her against whining. Still, she could not help the doubts clouding her mind. “Are-are you ashamed of me?” Her eyes watered at the thought as her cheeks burned from the absurdity of the question. Of course, he wasn’t ashamed of her. Right?

“I could never. You are perfect.” He kissed the top of her head. “The only thing stopping me is the Asgardians. They disapprove of you Midgardians," Loki explained.

"But I am sure if you tell them I'm your soulmate," she paused.

"I do not think that an Asgardian has ever had a Midgardian soulmate. You are the only ones in the Nine Worlds without soulmates." She huffed and nodded like she understood, although she honestly didn't. "Thank you for being patient. I believe that you will, one day, have the privilege to see Asgard. It is not as beautiful as you."

“I don’t want you to leave me alone here.”

“You will never be alone. I will never leave you, my dear.”

What a load of shit that had turned out to be. It had been so long since Loki had dreamed of her. He supposed that’s what he got for being back on Midgard. He couldn’t think about her. It hurt too much, knowing that he couldn’t have her.

Now, what had woken him up? Oh, the fucking AI. Apparently the Avengers had returned from their escapade.

“Is everyone here?” Stark asked when Loki walked into the conference room from earlier. Why was he always the last one to enter? “Okay, we have some videos to watch. F.R.I.D.A.Y. hit the lights.”

The lights in the room dimmed and Loki sat down at the table. The screen at the front turned on and a security feed began to play. Loki recognized the Midgardian Senator when he entered despite the tinted glasses on his face. Four men followed him in and spread out across the small cafe. He sat down with his back to the camera. The video skipped a couple of minutes and resumed when a woman with pink and green hair walked in.

“That’s obviously a wig,” Wilson snorted.

Loki narrowed his eyes. The woman reminded him of (Y/N) somehow. Maybe the body shape or the way she held herself. It obviously couldn't be (Y/N), though. He couldn’t even see her face because of the hat and camera angle. Loki brushed off the familiarity to the recent dream. He was seeing her in everything.

They talked briefly, but the security feed had no sound. The woman showed the man something on her phone and the Senator put a briefcase on the table. He opened the briefcase and the Avengers only caught a brief glimpse of its contents before the woman turned it to face her. She smiled and dramatically rubbed her hands together.

“What was that?” Thor raised his eyebrow at the screen.

“Probably to get the knife out of her sleeve,” Romanoff said and sure enough a moment later, the woman stabbed the Senator in the neck.

Loki tried to hide his smirk when she removed the knife and the Senator’s blood squirted like a fountain. The four men converged on her and drew their guns. She flipped the table as the men fired on her. Loki found himself rooting for her, even though he knew the outcome. The woman popped up and shot three of the men. Then she threw the knife at the fourth man. Once he went down, the cafe’s window broke and she left the cafe.

“And then we arrived, she ran into the next door flower shop where we lost her,” Stark continued once the video stopped. “The next video is from one of the baristas.”

The video changed and this time it had sound.

“Dude, that’s a Senator or something, right?” one female voice behind the camera asked. The video shook and the Avengers watched the woman walk in.

“I don’t know, shut up.”

“Senator,” the woman said.

The dream must really be getting to Loki’s head because the woman even sounded like (Y/N). Even after all this time, he would never be able to forget what his soulmate’s voice sounded like. Could it be a descendant? A relative? He knew she never had children.

“You can’t possibly be the one I talked to,” the Senator replied. “You’re just a girl.”

“I would have stabbed him too if he said that to me,” Romanoff joked. Maximoff snorted  and nodded in agreement.

“Well of course I couldn’t be. My boss is too busy and smart to meet you in public.” 

The Senator made no sign of noticing her tone, but the Avengers sure did.

She pulled out the phone and showed him the screen. “Now, I’m also busy so if we can get this over with?”

“Sure, darling.” He put the briefcase on the table.

“Open it.”

The Senator followed the order and this time, the Avengers could see the money that filled the briefcase. She nodded and rubbed her hands together.

“Thank you, Senator. That will be all.”

The following chaos ensued and the video stopped when the girls ducked down behind the counter to hide. The lights came back on.

“We have a couple more presentations before we get into the group discussion,” Stark said and the majority of the people at the table rolled their eyes.

“We’re not a fucking kindergarten class, Stark,” Barnes grumbled as he and Romanoff went to the front. The screen now showed various pictures of the bodies.

“We recovered the knife used to kill Anderson and one goon,” Romanoff held up the knife. “We found prints on it, but we found no records to match them.”

“There were many bullet casings on the ground, mostly from the security,” Barnes continued. “Only three came from the woman, I assume. That means she has a lot of practice shooting people in the forehead.”

“Is this the same group that Anderson had hired?” Barton asked. “Cause there were no white roses.”

“We got a closer look at what was on the phone, and it looked like text messages. This was a meeting for the payment. And it seems like this lady is in charge.”

“Thank you, kids,” Stark stood back up with his eyes glued to his phone. “But apparently Senator Anderson’s house was robbed around the same time he was murdered.” He tapped the phone and flicked his wrist and new photos appeared at the front. “They took everything of value and—”

“Left white rose petals everywhere,” the Captain sighed as he studied the pictures. “This white rose organization has been growing under our noses for too long. I think we have to end it.”

They needed time to come up with a solid plan. If they scared them off, it could be years until they had another chance to catch them.

🌹

Thoughts of (Y/N) ran rampant in Loki’s mind. After the meeting, he had gone up to Bruce to inquire about her. She had been a princess, a queen, right? He had to know about her.

“Queen (Y/N)?” Bruce raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re asking about Queen (Y/N), eldest daughter to King Henry VIII?”

“Er, she had a sister named Mary,” Loki supplied.

“Bloody Mary?”

“Maybe? Can you just give me a quick Midgardian history lesson?”

“I’m not the most well versed in sixteenth-century English history. Maybe you could search it up online? Or go to a museum?”

Bruce had done a quick search with the help of Stark’s AI and had learned that a museum down in the capital, Washington DC, was having a special exhibit on English history. He had also suggested Thor go along with him. Just in case Loki decided to do something stupid. So now, Loki was being trailed by the very obvious God of Thunder as he walked through the museum.

Crowns, jewelry, and clothes from the sixteenth century were displayed in glass cases as humans milled around reading the descriptions. A tour guide was leading a group of teenagers around, pausing every once in a while. Loki couldn’t get past the group and stuck to listening to the tour.

Fucking finally. They had made it to the monarchs and family trees. Loki could see (Y/N)’s painted portrait. It was an accurate image of her, yet it still could not capture her true ethereal beauty. Delicate white flowers filled the empty space behind her.

“(Y/N) was the infamous Bloody Mary’s older sister and eldest surviving child to King Henry VIII,” the tour guide said to the teens. “Born in 1513, she married Phillip II of Spain when she was twenty-five. After her death, Phillip II would remarry her sister, Mary. She was a benevolent ruler, especially compared to her sister and successor. After her father died in January of 1547, she, along with fifteen others, perished in a suspicious fire that was never solved.”

What? Loki stood staring at (Y/N)’s portrait as the group moved on. The museum must have it wrong. (Y/N) had died seven years earlier in December of 1538. Loki’s mind spun. Was she actually alive for seven more years? Why was the connection shut off? She had to have died that day. It was painful but was it better than him seemingly abandoning her? Because he did abandon her, and his choice haunted Loki ever since.

🌹

[San Juan, Puerto Rico, December 1538]

You could see the land up ahead. It was a vague outline of a coast, but it was more land than you had seen in four weeks. The ship creaked under your feet as Agnes brought you to your new husband’s study. He was going to show you the reason you were sailing across the ocean.

In the study, a strange metallic object sat on a thick cloth on the desk. It was about the length of your forearm and it had many geometric sides, causing it to look bent.

“We found a case of these in Portugal,” Phillip told you. “We managed to get most of them out, but it cost a great many people’s lives.”

“It was guarded?” you asked. The many surfaces were not smooth. You wanted to touch it. When you reached a hand out for it, Phillip grabbed it and pulled you back.

“Not in the way you would think. The men who directly came into contact with them were quickly turned to stone. But when they did,” Phillip opened a drawer and pulled out a piece of parchment, “the strangest symbols appeared on its surface.”

On the parchment, seemingly random lines and ellipsis. You looked at your husband for an explanation.

“The locals told a story of blue angels who fell from the heavens to Earth. Some called them the… Kree? Yes, I believe that was it. We are traveling to Puerto Rico because there are similar stories there. I believe we found where this belongs.”

Loki, you asked your soulmate. Have you heard of the Kree?

“You said there were more?” you asked Phillip while you waited for Loki’s reply.

“Moving more than one is too dangerous. This… object. It is a weapon.”

The sound of ringing bells made both of you look up. You were here. As you were disembarking from the ship, Loki finally responded.

The Kree are a very advanced militaristic race. I know of them, how do you?

Have they ever been to Earth? You looked around at your new surroundings as the warm air tickled your skin.

Not that I know of, but I can do some inquiring. He went silent.

“Right this way, your majesty,” a man said with an accent. He led you to a carriage and opened the door for you.

“Where are we going?” you asked before entering.

“To the site, your majesty,” he replied.

You supposed you were already in your traveling clothes and you didn’t want to get any of your fancy dresses dirty. Agnes joined you in the carriage.

“What did the King want?” Agnes asked. All formalities between the two of you had already been dropped by the third week of knowing each other.

“He showed me this,” you paused. You didn’t know what it was. “It was this object that he believes belongs here or more specifically, where we are going.”

The ride was, thankfully, over quickly, but Loki had not gotten back to you yet. You and Agnes left the increasingly stuffy carriage and watched men with shovels linger around the giant hole in the ground. You walked closer and a tall, thin man with spectacles fell into step next to you. He gingerly held a box in his hands.

“Is it in there?” you asked looking at the box out of the corner of your eye.

“Er, yes. Yes, it is, your majesty,” he stuttered.

“What is going to happen?”

“W-well, a team of men are going to go down and th-they will find where it belongs.”

A man walked up to the thin man who opened the box to display the mysterious object. With gloves on, he wrapped the object in its cloth and removed it. You should be the one to take it. Where on Earth did that come from? You shouldn’t touch it lest you want to turn to stone.

You followed the man with the object as he joined a group of six men with torches, armor, and swords. They began to climb down a ladder that led deep into the ground. You needed to go with them. Why, though?

“I’m going as well,” you turned and began to descend the ladder.

“Your highness,” the tall man rushed to the edge and yelled down at you. “I-I wouldn’t advise—”

“You are not my advisor.”

“Your highness!” Agnes shouted.

“Nobody else follows,” you ordered. “Or tell Phillip.”

The rest of your descent was silent. Goodness, this went down much further than you had thought. The closest man’s torch barely illuminated the rungs where you were. It still felt as if you had made the correct decision.

Loki? Are you there? He remained silent.

Sounds of pained screaming and concerned shouts erupted below you. What now? Then the shouts became more fearful and the sound of metal hitting metal reached your ears. You got to the bottom and gasped when you saw four of the seven men dead on the ground, blood seeping across the ground. One torch was still lit so you picked it up and followed the sound of the last three.

The ceilings were high above you and the walls were solid rock, not dirt as you had first expected. Out of the darkness, a man ran at you, his face contorted in panic.

“Your highness,” he said with an accent. Then he spoke in rapid Spanish as he caught his breath. Someone yelled down the hall and you took a step back. “Run!” the man yelled.

Then another man came out of the darkness and impaled the first with his sword. You jumped back with a small scream and clapped your hand over your mouth. Your breathing was heavy as the second man straightened his back and looked at you with terrifying red eyes.

To your surprise, he didn’t attack you. After a minute of stillness and silence, you realized that he was beckoning to you. You took a tentative step closer and he took one back. You took another step and he moved back again. He wanted to lead you somewhere.

The first place the man brought you was just a few meters down the hall. He pointed to the object on the ground next to a statue. No, not a statue. The man must have touched the object and he turned to stone. You took in a shaky breath and looked at the red-eyed man for confirmation. He only continued to point.

You couldn’t see the cloth it was wrapped in before so you made the insane decision to pick it up with your bare hands. You winced and waited to turn to stone but when nothing happened, you looked at it. The same pattern that had been on the parchment Phillip showed you had popped up, covering the object in a glowing red-orange light.

With renewed confidence, you followed the man through the maze-like halls. The next stop was a large, circular room that was lit from above. A stone pedestal was in the center and when you walked over to it, you saw it held the patterns as well. The walls around the room began to move, leaving you trapped alone in the silent room.

Loki? You couldn’t feel his presence.

The object moved in your hand and you instinctively let it go. It didn’t fall to the ground but floated to the pedestal. Were you shaking? The object opened and started to fold in on itself, revealing rising, dark blue crystals.

Loki, please. Where are you? You felt a tear slip down your cheek and you quickly wiped it away. The crystals began to glow and then a wave of mist exploded outward. It exploded outward and knocked you backward. Loki!

I’m sorry, my brother was bothering me. What’s wrong?

Your breath was quick and it shook in time with your body. I-I don’t know. I’m scared, Loki. Your body tingled and you saw a dark layer of stone spread across your body and around your clothes. Tears freely dripped down your face now. S-something is happening Loki. Please, I’m so scared.

I’m sorry, I can’t do anything.

You couldn’t move and the layer reached your face. You could see it creeping up on you out of the corner of your eye. You were stuck. You couldn’t do anything as your vision was obscured but mentally call out for Loki.

It felt like you were in darkness for hours, but it was probably only a minute. Eventually, the crust around you began to crack and you were able to move your fingers. The stone layer kept falling away and the moment you could, you collapsed to the ground. Silent sobs racked your body.

The walls opened up again and the red-eyed man still stood, waiting.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry until you ran out of tears. You wanted to give up and lie on the stone floor forever.

You knew that something had changed. When you were waiting in the darkness, you knew. You felt empty inside. You knew it wouldn’t work but you still tried to call out to Loki.

He was gone.

He had promised he would never leave, but he was gone.

And you were alone.

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Taglist:

@kaithehero @liliannyah​ @andreasworlsboring101 @oatballsoffury​ @aberrant-annie​ @simplybree​ @adalina-perez​ @emage-king​ @yandereforyou​ @notactiveonmain​ @tvdplusriverdale​

#inhuman #loki x reader #loki x soulmate reader #loki #mcu #marvel #avengers #natasha romanoff #bucky barnes #tony stark #thor #bruce banner #valkyrie #brunhilde #wanda maximoff #black widow #winter soldier #iron man #captain america #steve rogers #hulk #scarlet witch #soulmate #soulmate au #ish

[otterknowbynow]

Will Break for Food

Hunk and Lance go on a post-curfew kitchen excursion that leads to some eating and some thinking and some talking. 

also on ao3

It’s a terrible idea, sneaking into the kitchens. Cadets aren’t allowed to just have free access to the food stores, let alone industrial-size appliances, which -- if Lance is honest with himself -- feels reasonable, considering the caliber of kids he’s met here already. Platt and Harper would have a field day, and he’s not sure much of anything would survive if Griffin stopped flexing long enough to try to light a stove. Hunk would at least -- probably -- know what he was doing, but it’s still a terrible idea. 

“What if we get caught? I’m not getting chewed out by Iverson just because you wanted to make a sandwich!” 

“Sandwiches are obviously not on the menu for the homesick and decent-meal-deprived,” Hunk says dismissively. 

“Well, then what are we making?” He can’t resist asking. The answer won’t make a difference, he’s decided. It shouldn’t make a difference. It doesn’t matter that asking made Hunk’s entire face light up. He’s not breaking the fundamental rule of being a decent cadet his third week. He’s not doing it. That’s one way to guarantee he’ll never be a fighter pilot -- he’ll be stuck in cargo for life. But he won’t pretend he’s not curious, and he’s even more curious when Hunk ducks under his bed and pulls out a plastic container, the lid of which he whips off with a flourish. 

“We’re making ramen!” His expression is positively giddy; Lance can hardly stand it.

“Ramen? That’s your brilliant idea for a meal that’s better than what they throw us in the mess?” 

“Real ramen, Lance, not with those mysterious flavor powders you get in the little plastic-wrapped blocks.” Lance looks in the tupperware and has to admit this looks a lot more complicated than the packets he generally associates with the word. It doesn’t matter. This isn’t happening. 

“I’m not sneaking out after curfew, breaking into the kitchen of all places, and risking being yelled at, suspended, thrown off the waitlist for fighter track --” 

“--Now, come on, they wouldn’t do that.” Hunk interrupts, his face softening. “Is that what you’re worried about?” 

“I’m not worried,” Lance says, sarcasm creeping into his voice and settling in like a cat jumping into a familiar lap. “I’m being realistic. They’re not just gonna say, ‘oh, good job boys, that’s some choice ramen!’” 

“You don’t technically know that; my culinary skills are incredible.” 

“According to who exactly?” 

“Well, my mom, at least.” Hunk grabs the back of his neck self-consciously. “But, the point stands! She has excellent taste.” 

“Hunk --” Lance starts again, but Hunk cuts him off. 

“Please?” he asks, his eyes going wide. Lance suddenly finds himself unable to meet them, and looks down instead, ignoring the swooping feeling in his stomach. Maybe he’s hungrier than he thought he was. 

“I just don’t think we should be breaking rules when we’ve just gotten here,” he mumbles at the floor.

“Lance, I miss cooking. I miss my family. I miss home.” The pleading in his voice cuts straight into his heart, and Lance feels his resolve break all at once.

“Fine,” he says, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “But only because I just realized I’m starving. And if we get caught, I’m telling Iverson you hypnotized me.” It doesn’t even feel like a lie. 

--

“I can’t believe they don’t bother locking the doors,” Lance whispers, following Hunk through as the entrance slides open. The doors lead to easily the largest kitchen he’s ever seen, and his family’s kitchen back home is no slouch, full of butcher-block counters and a massive farmhouse table. There’s a lot less wood in here -- everything is gleaming stainless steel -- which makes it feel remarkably cold. Lance is suddenly glad this plan involves soup. 

“What? Of course they lock them,” Hunk says incredulously. “Why did you think I brought this?” He holds up something that looks a lot like a graphing calculator. 

“Uh...because you’re a nerd?” Lance offers, raising his eyebrows.

“No --” Hunk stops suddenly and frowns. “I mean, well, yes, technically, but the kind of nerd that knows how to make a door...unlocked.”  

"How long have you been planning this?" 

"Since like last Thursday," he says, shrugging.

"Hang on --" Lance holds up a hand, feeling his eyebrows stretch up to his hairline. "-- you've been homesick enough to consider midnight kitchen escapades for a week already? Hunk, that was after like...two weeks of being away from home!" 

"I know," Hunk says, his shoulders slumping a little. "Seems like it doesn't take that much, I just...love my family, y'know?"

Lance swallows a sarcastic "that's one way of putting it, I guess," and lets the breath he'd taken in for it come out as a sigh. 

"I do know," he says instead, the sarcasm cat apparently leaving him to embarrass himself. He's looking at the floor again -- tiles this time, as opposed to the carpet in their dorm room. "My family's close, too -- emotionally, I mean. I miss the fields, too, and the animals...deserts are cool, and all, I guess, but nothing normal grows here." He clamps his mouth shut, his lips together extra tight to keep the words from escaping any more. He did not sneak out after curfew with a kid he's known less than a month to get made fun of for talking about feelings. 

"It only took me a week before I cried the first time," Hunk says quietly, and Lance looks up at him, surprised. This time he doesn’t even think of a sarcastic response; the sincerity is too jarring.

“Huh?” It’s all he can muster, but it’s enough that Hunk goes on. 

“It’s not being away from them a week, like, obviously I’ve been away from my family for a week before, but it’s just -- thinking about all of it. Like, how home will always be home, but how it also never really will be again.” He shrugs, and Lance nods absently, but a moment later what Hunk’s just said hits him and he breathes in sharply. 

“Oh, wow, I hadn’t thought about it that way,” he says, suddenly very aware of his heartbeat, which seems a bit too quick for standing still in the middle of a dark kitchen, even with the adrenaline of rule-breaking and risk. It never really will be again. Of course the farm is still home, to an extent, and his avuela’s little house in Varadero is still home, to an extent, but the main thing that’s always defined home for him is wherever his family is. When his older siblings went off to visit Dad in the summers and he was left behind with Mama, it never felt quite like home until they were back. When the others moved out and Marco and Luis started their own families, it was weird, but they were still nearby, and they came over more evenings than they didn’t. If he thinks about it, the weirdest was definitely when Veronica left and was suddenly missing from Shabbat dinners, except when she was home on breaks. That’s him now, he realizes. No wonder he was willing to break into the kitchens with Hunk on a Friday night. 

“Lance, buddy, you okay?” Hunk’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and he nods, probably a few times too many. 

“I’m good, I’m good,” he says, still nodding a bit. “Let’s -- let’s make some ramen.” Hunk grins at him and moves to put the container he brought from their room on the enormous stainless steel island in the middle of the room. 

“Alright, now I know we can’t do a stock from scratch, but the stock cubes my mom gets are the best, and I slipped a few into my bag before I left home -- you never know when you’ll need a burst of flavor, right? Especially with cafeteria food. They’re chicken; don’t worry. All the rest of this okay for you?” He’s moving rapidly, setting out different smaller containers that were inside the one big one he brought. There’s a tupperware of tiny foil-wrapped cubes, a couple packages of noodles, and a bag of paper-thin, pink-tinged flakes of some kind. Lance isn’t sure what those last things are, but there’s a hechsher on the corner of the bag, so he shrugs. 

“Sure.” 

“Excellent,” Hunk says. “Hey -- can you check the fridge and see what they have in the way of veggies? We’re gonna have to improvise a bit.”

“You don’t think they’ll notice if we take all the onions?” Lance asks, feeling the panic rise a bit in him again. 

“We’re not going to take all of them,” Hunk says reassuringly, pulling a cutting board and a knife from the counter next to the sink and bringing them over to the island where he seems to be setting up a prep station. “Just, like, one. See if there are any green onions or carrots or -- you know, whatever looks good.” Lance shakes his head and moves to the line of big industrial fridges, bracing himself for the noise of the seal releasing when he moves the lever on the first one to open it. Any noise the fridge makes is completely overshadowed by a series of incredibly loud clanging sounds from behind him, though, and he whips around to see Hunk holding a giant stock pot and looking a bit sheepish. 

“It was on the bottom,” he says apologetically.

“Shit, Hunk, we don’t need the entire building to know we’re in here!” Lance remembers to keep his voice to a whisper, but it’s a close thing. He holds up a hand so Hunk won’t move and listens carefully, but all he can hear is the hum of the fridges and his own breathing, which has sped up to what strikes him as a totally unnecessary rate. He forces it to slow down and lowers his hand slowly.

“Sorry,” Hunk mouths at him silently, and starts to move toward the stove. Lance takes a deep breath and turns back to the fridge, hoping there’s something there that makes this worth the trouble. 

--

Twenty minutes later, they’ve managed to assemble what smells -- to Lance at least -- like an absolutely delicious soup. His stomach is growling loudly enough that he’s pretty sure it may wake some of the instructors on its own, never mind the avalanche of pots earlier or Hunk ripping open the noodles now. 

“Grab us a couple bowls?” Hunk says, dropping the noodles into the pot gently and grabbing the paddle he’s been using to stir them in. Lance nods and scans the back wall to try to figure out where the dishes must be. He’s settled on a likely-seeming alcove when he hears someone laugh loudly and freezes. 

“Did you --” he starts, and Hunk nods emphatically, eyes wide, his arm still stirring the pot automatically, though he seems to have forgotten that’s what he’s doing. Lance gulps. Now that he’s listening more carefully, he can hear the murmur of voices from somewhere nearby. He moves softly toward the door back to the hallway, ears as alert as they’ve ever been. There’s a sudden burst of laughter again, shared between at least two people. It’s cut off suddenly by a loud shushing sound, and the voices are near enough now that Lance can make out what they’re saying. 

“Do you want Iverson to catch us? God, Griff.” Oh, man, Lance thinks, if James Griffin is really out there, now would be a chance to get in good with him, convince him he’s a worthwhile guy to get to know. He wishes he weren’t so tired and so hungry -- he probably doesn’t have the brainpower right now to manage anything nearing cool, considering sarcasm has thoroughly abandoned him already. 

“Come on, what’s he going to do? Kick us out? Hate to break it to you, but I’ve got the top GPA in this place. They’re not gonna touch me.” That’s Griffin’s voice, alright. Lance raises his eyebrows and turns to look at Hunk, who has put the paddle down and turned the heat off on the stove, wiping his hands on a towel he has tucked into his belt. Hunk frowns, shakes his head slightly, as if to say “not worth it.” Lance turns back to the door and sighs, realizing as he does that he’s been holding his breath for what must’ve been nearly a minute, listening. 

“Hey, what’s that smell?” That’s Harper, Lance is sure, which means it’s probably all three of them, getting up to some midnight trio shenanigans. Weirdly, he doesn’t envy them nearly as much as he would have a week ago, before he got to know Hunk, and certainly before they broke into the kitchen in the middle of the night to make ramen, which, he realizes now, is exactly what Harper’s smelling. He bites back a yelp at this realization and sets his jaw. Hopefully they’ll all just...move on. 

“I don’t know, Harp, Kogane’s grandma’s house?” And yep, there she is. Platt's presence also confirmed. 

“What? You know Kogane doesn’t know his grandma.” All three of them dissolve into snickers at that, and Lance blanches. Keith Kogane might be arrogant and snobby as hell, but he doesn't deserve that. He's glad on a certain level, though, that they seem to have dropped the idea of investigating. Their laughter and voices fade away as they continue down the hall toward the cadets' quarters, and Lance feels his heart rate start to return to normal. Hunk, behind him, clears his throat, and Lance turns around. 

"You know, I really don't understand why you even try to hang out with them," Hunk says softly. 

"What, you think I'm not good enough for them?" he hears his own voice snap angrily before he can stop himself. So much for late-night lack of filters being maybe a good thing. Now Hunk is telling him he doesn't deserve to be respected and looked up to like those three? He can feel his eyes burning and tells himself it's because he's tired. "Like, I know I'm not --"

"What? No." Hunk looks absolutely baffled. "Good enough for Griffin? For Griffin?" He seems to have forgotten they're breaking at least four different rules and curfew, his voice rising. "Lance, that's the most absurd thing I've ever heard you say, and you manage to pack them in, buddy." This is the first time Lance has heard anything like bitterness in Hunk's voice, and it throws him. 

"What do you mean?" he asks, the anger draining out of him. 

"I mean," Hunk says, deliberately, crossing the room so they're standing eye to eye and lowering his voice again. "They're not worth it. Like, sure, they're popular, and they’ve got top marks, or whatever, but they're assholes. You want to be an asshole? Is that what you want? Because getting in good with assholes is how you turn into an asshole." 

Hunk's right, of course. They are assholes, all three of them, but the relative kindness of a person has never really been part of his criteria. His survival strategy has been the same since he was thrown into a new country as a ten-year-old with nothing going for him but decent swimming skills and a tourist industry English vocabulary. 

“Maybe I already am an asshole,” he says, more sincerely than he means to.

“I mean, sometimes!” Hunk says, throwing his hands wide. “We all are, sometimes, but that’s no reason to just lean into it.” 

“You’re never an asshole,” he says sullenly, back to staring at the floor.

“I’m -- that’s not true, but we don’t have to get into that right now.”

“I just want people to like me,” he mutters, still not looking up. He can feel tears pricking the back of his eyes, and it’s easier if he doesn’t have to see Hunk’s face. It’s such a simple want, after all, and yet one he's had to work so hard to try to fulfill. Join team sports, crack the jokes, keep an air of detached irony at all times, and maybe -- just maybe -- people will fold him in as one of the cool kids, not notice that he’s dragging behind in class. He's starting to think that's not the same thing as liking him, though.

“Maybe try listening to people who aren’t assholes, then?” He looks up to see Hunk smiling ruefully at him. 

“That's a thought," Lance admits, and his vision blurs. He blinks rapidly. He will not cry in the mess kitchen at one in the morning. He will not -- before he can finish the thought a second time, Hunk closes the distance between them and hugs him, really hugs him, not like the perfunctory hugs he gives to his tias when they're in for a visit over the high holidays. He breathes in sharply and feels his whole body tense, startled, and Hunk lets go of him immediately. 

"Sorry," he says, hunching his shoulders a bit. "I didn't mean to --"

"No, that's okay," Lance says, a bit surprised that it is, actually. He laughs, which is kind of a relief since he much prefers it to crying. "I'm just not, uh, used to it. You should warn me when you're going off-script like that." 

"You're not used to hugs? Or not used to hugs from me? Because I totally get not wanting to hug a stranger -- not that we're strangers, but you know, you've only known me a couple weeks, might be weird, you know --" Hunk trails off helplessly, his hand gripping the back of his neck, eyes looking somewhere over Lance’s shoulder. 

“Uh, in general,” Lance says, and it’s his turn to hunch his shoulders, sticking his hands in his pockets for lack of a better place to put them. “My mom’s the only hugger in my family, really, and I haven’t seen her in awhile, so.” He doesn’t mean for that to come out nearly as bitterly as it does. He winces, looks back at Hunk to see him standing with his arms open. 

“Buddy, if you need one -- oof.” Hugs are nice, he realizes, when they’re not being demanded by relatives you hardly see, whose primary purpose in visiting seems to be to comment about how tall you’ve grown, “and yet still so skinny! Are you feeding him enough, Marlinda?” Oh, thinking about his mom right now is not a good call if he wants to keep the tears from coming back, he realizes, and steps back out of Hunk’s arms, dashing the sleeve of his jacket across his eyes before Hunk can say anything about it. 

“So how about that ramen?” He manages casual as a tone, which is not bad, all things considered. 

“Oh, yeah! Bowls?” Hunk walks back over to the pot and Lance meets him there with two bowls from the back alcove. They’re a bit shallow, in that weird shape of cafeteria bowls everywhere that’s somehow not great for cereal and soup or for pasta, but they’ll get the job done. Hunk ladles noodles and broth into both, with some onion and a bit of wilted spinach they were pretty sure no one would miss. He tops each bowl with half an egg he boiled earlier and offers one to Lance, who looks down at it and frowns. 

“Uh, Hunk? How are we supposed to eat this? I’m pretty sure the caf doesn’t have chopsticks.” 

“Oh, it doesn’t,” Hunk says lightly. “But I do.” He goes back to the container on the counter and pulls out two pairs, handing one to Lance.

“Wow, you are a nerd,” he says, laughing. There’s nowhere to eat but the floor, and Lance is suddenly glad for all the cleaning details cadets get put on, since it’s probably been bleached in the last six hours or so. The two of them settle with their backs against the counter, and for a couple of minutes the kitchen is silent apart from the slurping of noodles and the clinking of chopsticks against bowls. 

The ramen is cool enough by now that Lance can eat it quickly, and it’s absolutely bananas how delicious it is. He guesses he shouldn’t be surprised that packages don’t measure up to the real thing, but the real thing isn’t usually an option.  

“Wow, Hunk,” he says when he can stop to take a breath. “This is something else.” 

“It’s taking you on a journey, huh,” Hunk says, nodding. “Best food does.” 

“A journey to deliciousville,” he says. “To tasty town, to flavor planet --” 

“-- Alright, buddy, I get it.” He’s laughing now, a little bit, but Lance needs to be sure he understands. 

“I don’t know if you do? But if I keep trying to explain, that’s going to keep me from eating it, and that is...Unacceptable.” He looks over at Hunk as he goes back to his bowl to see his roommate smiling down at his own food, his whole face almost glowing with pride. “I mean that,” he adds quietly. “This is, like, really good.” 

“Thanks.” 

It’s gone in minutes, and the empty bowls make him feel almost wistful, but he realizes as he carries them over to the sink to wash them that he’s also horrendously thirsty. 

“Hey, Hunk --” He turns, only to see there’s already a glass of water being offered to him. “Oh, thanks.” Hunk nods, drinking his own water before they both move to clean up. The good news is Hunk at least has been assigned enough cleaning details that he’s mercilessly efficient. It seems like it comes with the territory of having an often-turbulent stomach. Although if he’s used to food like this, Lance thinks, it makes a bit more sense that the commissary stuff doesn’t exactly treat him right. 

--

“I can’t believe you have a homemade mac and cheese recipe and you didn’t go with that for this whole stunt,” Lance whispers, trying to keep from laughing as they sneak back toward their quarters. Hunk’s container is full of leftover ramen now, and Lance is just hoping it’ll fit in their mini-fridge without a problem. 

“I mean, would you have been nearly as impressed if I’d made something that simple?” Hunk asks him with a grin, nudging their door open with his shoulder. 

“Honestly? I’m a simple man, Hunk,” He grabs Hunks shoulder and throws his other arm wide gesturing at their room as a whole. “Show me a big bowl of carbs and cheese, and I’m happy.” 

“We can always make it next Friday,” Hunk says, shrugging. Lance laughs and shakes his head, dropping his arm. 

“Right, sure, we’re definitely doing this again.” The sarcasm cat is back, thankfully, and he can’t resist adding -- “because we didn’t come close enough to giving us both full-blown panic attacks already.” 

But despite his claims, it becomes something of a ritual before long, to the point where Lance will come back from service on Friday night, change into jeans instead of pajamas, and read comics for maybe five minutes before Hunk looks over at him. 

“Still homesick?” He asks, every time, without fail. 

“I mean, kind of,” Lance says, frowning. “Not like, really homesick, I’m not a baby about it or anything.” 

But Hunk gives him that look, eyes wide, pointedly hopeful, and he knows that even if he wanted to say no, he’s not entirely sure he could. And every time he sees it he sighs, puts down whatever issue he’s reading. 

“If Iverson catches us, I’m blaming you.” 

#vld #voltron #voltron fic #lance (voltron) #hunk (voltron) #scribbles #I Love My Kids A Stupid Amount: Here They Are Again

[babygirl-pluvian]

Lucitober Day 9: Eve *repost with tags*

Eve packed several of the thin, flimsy bags full of at least two apples of each color that she could find. The building she was in was called a “grocery store”. The humans of today were now strange creatures - everything had a name of some kind that required much explanation from Lucifer. And they had so many rules! Eve smirked to herself as she handed the young woman behind the strange looking counter the square of strange material (Lucifer had explained that the material was “plastic” and this item in particular was called a “credit card” and was required for bartering). The rules of trade and bartering had changed significantly in the millenia she had been gone. Lucifer had given Eve her own “credit card” in order to avoid being manhandled by that awful human who accused her of stealing.

Back in the penthouse Eve awaited Lucifer’s return from his latest escapade with the Detective - Chloe Decker. Lucifer spent quite a lot of time with this woman, it almost made her jealous; but she tried to put that out of her mind as she arranged her apples in bowls in various arrays around the pethouse, the entire time trying to keep a patient smile in anticipation of Lucifer walking in from the lift at any minute.

Soon after these thoughts crossed Eve’s mind she found herself behind the bar taking bottles down from the shelves, trying to decide what drinks to make for herself and Lucifer...whenever he decided to come back home…

Ding!

“Eve, darling! Sorry I’m late,” Lucifer’s voice once had the ability to draw a smile every time she heard it, but this time she screwed her face into a frown as she continued to mix a drink for herself. “The case the Detective and I are currently working on is slightly more of a challenge, though I find myself rather enjoying myself still.”

Eve sniffed as she put the bottles of liquor back on their shelves. “It’s always a case Lucifer,” she turned back around to start slicing an apple, slamming the knife with each thrust to emphasize her annoyance.

Lucifer stopped in his tracks just shy of the bar. “Well if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were upset by that.” Eve set down the knife and looked up at him. He was adjusting his cufflinks, as he usually did to occupy his hands regardless of emotion. Eve sighed and said, “No, I know your work is important to you.” She looked into his eyes and emphasized each next work, “I just miss you when you’re gone.”

Lucifer walked closer to Eve with the bar between them. He leaned forward toward her and breathed in his way that would make a lesser human woman weak in the knees, “Well I could think of ways to make it up to you.” There was that Devilish grin, though. That made her stomach flutter every time. Eve smiled a small smile that meant maybe she could forgive him. She took out the drink she had hidden behind the bar and handed it to Lucifer. She garnished her appletini and they clinked glasses. After they each took their drinks Lucifer leaned closer and bent town into Eve, and she reciprocated by leaning into him and kissing him.

Eve crawled up onto the bar to get closer and Lucifer walked closer. She sat up onto the bar and straddled her legs around him. Lucifer picked her up to carry her to the bed, while Eve had already begun to unzip her dress in the back, and as she held on Lucifer removed his jacket. Once Eve was thrown on the bed she looked at him and saw - not just his charm in his eyes and a wicked grin that meant pleasure - but happiness as well. And perhaps she could forgive him

----

The next morning Eve yawned and stretched over to where Lucifer had fallen asleep. Except he wasn’t there, and his side of the bed was cold. She looked over at the night stand on her side and saw a white paper bag with the words “Sorry Love. Break in the case” written in black. She sighed and reached in the bag and pulled out a flakey pastry. An apple fritter. Eve placed the pastry back in the bag, the bag back on the nightstand, and a sad smile crossed her face as she remembered the first time Lucifer had tempted her with an apple. Her smile disappeared after a second, and she curled back into bed with the once happy memory in her mind.

#mazikeen #dan espinoza #deckerstar #lauren german #fanart #lucifer fan art #tomellis #lucifer season 5 #luciferedit #lucifer #lucifer fandom #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer fanart #chloe decker #eve and Lucifer #lucifans #fan fiction #fanfic #fangirl #lucifer morningstar

[hellopatrickduff]

Waiting in Line at Costco During Covid

Yes! A sweat spot, right in front of the exit, three spaces away from the curb facing the street and ultimately the goliath monstrosity.

Walking, I am then acquainted to a large line of scared, masked nervous wrecks and a tall, lanky worker. He states firmly as I approach the entrance:

"Sir, please go to the back of the line."

I am confused,

"Oh shit..."

I say in my head as an impending doom creeps from the back of my mind, and slivers down my spine, settling somewhere near my stomach and kidneys.

As I walk I start breathing heavily, the ensuing fog from my facemask lifts, coats the lenses of my new glasses, purchased at a different costco just before the eye department shut down.

A short, latino man races me to the back of the line. He cuts diagonally as I follow the cones connected by plastic barricades all the way down to the very back of the parking lot. Tough race old boy, he beats me by at least 10 furloughs.

An intrusive thought of murdering him comes to mind, and my conscience edits it by adding the clause "if he puts his hands on me." Flashes of my hands bloodied by his slowly crushed skull become unpleasant.

"CANCEL-CANCEL, this man is just doing the best he can and probably just trying to provide for his family."

I recommit myself to peace and the thought goes away.

We move slowly, six feet apart. "There better be paper towel man." Leaving would be a luxurious escapade; seems like everyone on the east coast needs paper towel. Not one pack to save my sack.

The minutes move like turtles fucking on glue traps as I grasp my cart handle a little tighter the closer I snake towards the entrance. After 30 minutes I reacquaint myself with the worker and see a sign:

SOLD OUT: PAPER TOWEL

My un-gloved hands touch my tired face. I pull my pocket knife out and cork screw the stern workers left eyeball. The screams give me pleasure as I go in to shop for food I don't need.

I approach my car after shopping with a great sigh of relief, security didn't even bother looking for me. As I reach for my keys I suddenly realize... I don't carry a pocket knife with me.

Never have, never will.

#spilled thoughts #poetry #prose #new poets society #writing #spilled ink #spilled words #spilled poetry #spilled poem #spilled guts #coronavid19 #coronationstreet #short story #short prose

[matchbox-fighting-furies]

Introducing the Fighting Furies action figures!

In 1973 the British toy company Lesney Products & Co. Ltd began planning what would be their first foray into the burgeoning and lucrative market of boy’s posable action figures and accessories. Principally known for their celebrated Matchbox brand of small replica die-cast cars and extensive range of collectable vehicles, their Fighting Furies action figures would also employ the ‘Matchbox’ trademark, launching first in the U.S.A in 1974 and then shortly afterwards in the U.K and Europe the following year. European trade buyers could instantly order directly from stock and the products promptly began to appear in retail stores around the world, including Canada and as far afield as Australia.  Standing at 21.5cms (8.5”) – but occasionally described by Lesney as being 23cms – they lasted for a run of 5 years in total in Europe and the UK, but soon petered out after only 2 in the U.S.

The two primary figures – Captain Peg-leg Pete (aka Captain Peg-leg) and Hook – were generic and exotic 18th century pirates whose aliases were somewhat insensitive epithets of their physical disabilities, but in the world of 1970s toys, amputees seemingly enjoyed positive discrimination for the job of pirate. Clearly either health and safety standards on-board their respective ships weren’t what they should’ve been, or the joys of lawless buccaneering came with their own perils of the job. It’s unknown whether the recipients of these action figures drew any lessons from the apparent physical dangers of being a high seas pirate but presumably the spoils of violently attacking trade route ships and other vessels in order to extricate them of their possessions so as to boost one’s own personal wealth were sufficient to offset the risks and exciting enough for the protagonists to be considered adventure heroes! Their wayward life of fighting, deceitful disguises and testosterone charged camaraderie were clearly sufficient for children to be wilfully shanghaied into “set the mail-sail” escapades! (And, as for the pirates, this was a time before HMRC, or the IRS, so we can turn a sailor’s patched blind eye to their somewhat carefree enterprise for instant wealth creation and general disorderly antics).

          “While cruising in the Caribbean, Peg Leg Pete’s ship ‘The Sea Fury’ is attacked by the rival pirates led by Hook. As the two leaders battle around the deck the other Pirates marvel at the strength and ferocity of the struggle. Finally, both Peg Leg and Hook burst into laughter, grasp each other’s hand and vow to fight together to capture treasure… The fighting Furies are formed!!” [sic]

The full adventure story from the adventure Booklets/Leaflets included with the Peg-leg and Hook Figures.

The figures featured several innovative features, most famously incorporating the igneous ability to throw a knife or repeatedly slash away with a cutlass via releasing the figure’s spring-action right arm or by repeatedly pumping the button discreetly embedded on their side, under the left arm. Impressively this core feature happily continues to perform in virtually all vintage “played-with” examples and undoubtedly justifies their assertion for fighting furiously. The products also put heavy emphasis upon promoting their design for “Action-Flex” bodies, which allowed for impressively agile poses – although they were susceptible to eventual loosening after heavy use – and the Lesney company had duly applied for patent protection. Furthermore, the Peg-Leg figure imaginatively incorporated into his (bottom of the range) prosthetic leg a “secret” map tightly rolled and hidden inside, which could be removed by unplugging the leg’s stopper! This now lovingly renowned feature typically ensured that every map was destined to be lost as it was notoriously difficult to return once unrolled. (Although the idea was always an ill-considered precaution whenever peg-legged pirates went for a paddle).

Adorned in period style dress the figures were clearly inspired by caricatures established by Hollywood’s portrayals of historic swashbuckling antics and by the Boys Adventure literature of a previous era, but historic sea-fairing adventures, such as those featuring Jason and his Argonauts, continued to be popular in cinemas throughout much of the 1970s. Curiously, Peg-Leg in particular appears to be a cultural hybrid mixing the physical icons of clichéd European pirate folklore with the handsome persona of a ‘leading man’, while both seemingly representing exotic origins and not the stylised Cornish or British influences which might have been expected for pirates produced by a British company. Peg-Leg’s enigma was suitably ambiguous, and the designs sought to be internationally relatable with universal market appeal while clearly careful to avoid any inadvertent copyright conflicts with facets and appearances identifiable as any famous onscreen properties.

Going by the adventures, which were provided throughout the pair’s accessory packs, it’s clear that the handsome Peg-leg, with his thick slick locks of Hollywood hair (and, as were the rules of the time, his more European appearance) was the leading man, with Hook occupying the traditional and period device of the faithful sidekick established by, among others, Batman and Robin, the Lone Ranger and Tonto (in an ill thought through contradiction to his ‘Lone’ claim), the Green Hornet and Kato and even Robinson and his companion Friday. Regular references throughout the product line to the Spanish Main, pinpoint their adventures to the Caribbean Sea and the Gulf of Mexico and indirectly indicates that Captain Peg-leg, with his dark features and skin tone, might have been the only Spaniard named ‘Pete’?

The Pirate figures and their default outfits:

Described as “savage” in official Matchbox literature, perhaps disconcertingly they were both weaponised with their own cutlass and a hand dagger. Being avid sword fighters, it was easy to press their buttons: literally! Tucked away on their side, under their left arm, was the all-important button which raised and released their spring-action right arm for “Fantastic press action sword fighting!” This could also be deployed manually for “Fabulous knife throwing action”; helpfully speeding up the process of losing these little accessories.

While the typical loss of the hidden map from the Peg-leg figure is notorious and it rarely survives in situ, many vintage “played with” examples do at least manage to retain the leg’s end plug (if not the figure’s small knife) but less well recognised is the fact that every loose and played with example of both Hook and Peg-leg will inevitably no longer be sporting their tiny “gold” plastic ring (unduly added to the independent little finger of their sword fighting hand). These usually forgotten and overlooked micro-accessories – which weren’t transparent, or skin toned, but were golden yellow with a bulge on the outer side and representative of the typical bling such characters would wear - are only ever to be found on mint boxed examples and even then, they may already have fallen off and are languishing somewhere within the packaging. Ironically however, you just might be forgiven for suspecting that their primary purpose was to ensure that the cutlass remained securely held in the figure’s hand while still displayed in the product’s corner window packaging (and for rapid sword fights), as they were fitted to the finger after the sabre and its hand guard were embedded into and over the toy’s grasp, helping to keep it in place.

Both figures were kitted out in colourful period piece attire, although which period exactly is anyone’s guess, but a loose placement might point to the late 18th century. Their default outfits are satisfyingly vague enough for their mystique to allow imaginations to run unhindered and they generally rustle up the spirit of non-specific exotic south seas tailoring. Hook sports his own pair of striped European style socks and colonial style buckle shoes while Peg-leg could seemingly afford more luxurious knee length swashbuckling boots – only without any buckles - as he only needed the one for his left foot. Both sport natty gold braid waistcoats – although Peg-leg insists upon wearing an undershirt as he’s the leader and is clearly less barbarous - and presumably in the interests of keeping in touch with their more fashion-conscious sensibilities both wear bewilderingly bonkers long and flowing silk like sashes around their midriffs of bright yellow and a vivid orange. Owing more to the 1970s, these cost-effective adornments added a flourish to their appearance although they look too synthetic or invented when compared to their optional accessorised outfits which were sold separately.

The figures themselves were exceptionally well designed, articulated and unusually poseable with sharply detailed sculpting in the faces; although Hook can appear half asleep depending upon his eyeliner paint job and appears to be perpetually staring at your shoes. Such was the effort, originality and pride taken in these new action figure designs the product packaging boasted Patent Pending status and the ‘Pat. Pend.’ logo was prominently shown.

Captain Hook evidently paid pleasing and careful attention to his appearance, sporting a huge purple chest tattoo and presumably regularly spending hours carefully shaving his scalp and leaving only one rigorous side-of-the-head patch to grow lusciously long? And after grooming his moustache he seems to have still found time to apply some very effecting eye mascara; careful to look his best for any pirating escapades. (This would also save time if heading straight out after work on a Friday). Hook’s enigma is aided by a general complexion indicating the character’s potential east Asian origin – making him the only one of the team destined to convincingly sport the optional Kungfu Warrior outfit - while his default garbs allude to western Asia; all happily helping to underpin his ‘of no fixed abode’ elusiveness.

Although seemingly planned alongside the original two pirate figures, children would have to wait until 1976 for the additional action figure of The Ghost of Cap’n Kidd to join the range along with his inventive harnessing of the luminous glow-in-the-dark fascination bestowed upon all children of the 1970s. No doubt in clear support of unadulterated spookiness Cap’n Kidd’s ghost figure would actually glow in the dark, recreating the only spectre of ghostly goings-on acceptable to young minds and his loose, semi-transparent, pale remnants of perished clothing would work harmoniously with his underlying skeleton as it glowed. Physically the figure followed the same established build as the others but was made entirely in a light lime-green coloured plastic with the all-important luminous paint providing his USP ingeniously and selectively applied to the body and face in stripes and blobs to rather convincingly create the appearance of a glowing skeleton after lights-out! He had the same sword slashing “action arm” but his outfit and accessories were decidedly minimal with only a weatherworn skimpy shirt and frayed pants, a hat and one miserly sword. Even his boots had been spirited away; although his tricornered hat and cutlass did glow-in-the-dark in their own right.  

Many will report that there were only ever three official figures formally created for the Fighting Furies Pirate line, but wait, was there a fourth!? There is also the Falcon bird of prey figure included in the Hooded Falcon Adventure pack, but regrettably it wasn’t equipped with the same press-button sword fighting action.

*** Find out more about the Fighting Furies Adventure packs or checkout all 9 Fighting Furies posts! ***

#fightingfuries #actionfigures #vintageactionfigures #vintagetoycollector #matchboxfightingfuries

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Heaven and Hell- Part 2

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,425

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

“We’re here!” Dean yelled from the basement stairs. Sam’s big plan was to bring Pamela here to try and dig her way through Anna’s mind to see if she could find out anything. Both you and Dean went to go get her while Sam and Ruby watched Anna.

“Pamela, hey!” Sam said with a smile once he saw her.

“Sam?”

“It's me. it's Sam.”

“Sam is that you?” she asked as she held her hands out to feel him. He approached her and let her touch his cheek briefly.

“I’m right here.”

“Oh, know how I can tell?” she asked just as she slapped his ass before grabbing one cheek. Sam jumped at the contact before giving you and his brother a knowing look. Smirking, you leaned against Dean to watch this. “That perky little ass of yours. You could bounce a nickel off that thing. Of course, I know it's you, grumpy. Same way I know that's a demon and that poor girl's Anna, and that you've been eyeing my rack.”

“Uh... uh... uh...” Sam stuttered, trying to think of a response.

“Don't sweat it, kiddo. I still got more senses than most.”

“Got it,” he chuckled. Pamela walked to Anna without aid before taking her hands.

“Hey, Anna. How are you? I'm Pamela. Dean told me what's been going on. I'm excited to help.”

“Oh. That's nice of you.”

“Oh, well, not really. Any chance I can dick over an angel, I'm taking it.”

“Why?”

“They stole something from me,” she said before removing her glasses. Her eyes were pure white, and as much as you felt bad about it, she was warned to stay away. “Demon-y, I know. But they're just plastic. Good for business. Makes me look extra-psychic, don't you think? Now... how about you tell me what your deal is? Hmm? Don't you worry.”

Pamela brought Anna back to the panic room before letting Anna lie on the cot so she could work her magic. You and the brothers walked inside the room to be with the two women, and Ruby was only allowed to stay outside. Anna closed her eyes just as Pamela got started.

“Nice and relaxed. Now, I'm going to count down from five to zero. When we're at zero, you'll be in a deep state of hypnosis. As I count down, just go deeper and deeper, okay? 5... 4... 3... 2... 1. Deep sleep. Deep sleep. Every muscle calm and relaxed. Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you,” Anna said in a soft tone. Leaning against Dean’s body, you let him kiss your shoulder as the two of you watched.

“Now, Anna, tell me... How can you hear the angels? How did you work that spell?”

“I don't know. I just did.”

“Your father... What's his name?”

“Rich Milton.”

“Alright. But I want you to look further back... When you were very young... Just a couple of years old.”

“I don’t want to,” she said, clearly afraid.

“It'll be okay. Anna, just one look—that's all we need,” Pamela said in a calm tone. To keep yourself from interfering, you bit the corner of your nail to occupy yourself when Dean took your hand away from your mouth. He kissed your fingers but stayed silent as did Sam and Ruby.

“What's your dad's name? Your real dad. Why is he angry at you?”

“No. No! No. No!” Anna screamed, clearly in pain.

“Calm down,” Pamela kept the same tone throughout.

“He's gonna kill me!”

“Anna, you're safe.”

“No!” she screamed, arching her back high right before the light in the room exploded, and the door slammed shut as it locked. “He's gonna kill me!”

“It's alright, Anna.”

“Anna?” Dean asked, moving you aside so he could help her.

“Dean, don’t,” Pamela said just as Dean put a hand on Anna’s shoulder. With a flick of her wrist, she shoved Dean across the room, into you.

“Wake in 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Anna... Anna? You alright?” Pamela asked as Anna opened her eyes.

“Thank you, Pamela. That helps a lot. I remember now.”

“Remember what?” you asked.

“Who I am.”

“I’ll bite. Who are you?” Dean asked, a little scared.

“I’m an angel.”

“Great, just what we needed,” you said, not expecting this at all.

“Don't be afraid, I'm not like the others,” Anna said to Ruby who leaned against Bobby’s kitchen door. After that little escapade, everyone went upstairs to talk about what the hell was going on. Leaning against Dean who had his hand loosely wrapped around your waist, Pamela leaned on the table next to you while Sam was next to her.

“I don't find that very reassuring.”

“Neither do I,” Pamela chimed in.

“So... Castiel and Uriel—they're the ones that came for me?” Anna wondered.

“You know them?” you asked.

“We were kind of in the same foxhole.”

“So, what, were they like your bosses or something?” Dean asked.

“Try the other way around.”

“But now they want to kill you?” Pamela questioned.

“Orders are orders. I'm sure I have a death sentence on my head.”

“Why?”

“I disobeyed... which, for us, is about the worst thing you can do. I fell.”

“Meaning?” you didn’t know what that meant.

“She fell to earth, became human,” Pamela explained.

“Wait a minute. I don't understand. So, angels can just become human?”

“It kind of hurts. Try cutting your kidney out with a butter knife. That kind of hurt. I ripped out my grace,” the ex-angel sighed. “My grace. It's... energy. Hacked it out and fell. My mother, Amy, couldn't get pregnant. Always called me her little miracle. She had no idea how right she was.”

“So, you just forgot that you were God's little Power Ranger?” Dean asked.

“The older I got, the longer I was human, yeah.”

“I don't think you all appreciate how completely screwed we are,” Ruby groaned.

“Ruby's right. Heaven wants me dead.”

“And Hell just wants her. A flesh-and-blood angel that you can question, torture, that bleeds. Sister, you're the Stanley Cup. And sooner or later, Heaven or Hell, they're gonna find you.”

“I know. And that's why I'm gonna get my grace back.”

“You can do that?”

“If I can find it.”

“So, what, you're just gonna take some divine bong hit, and, shazam, you're Roma Downey?” Dean sighed. “I like this plan already. So, where's this grace of yours?”

“Lost track. I was falling about 10,000 miles per hour at the time.”

“Wait,” you interrupted, “you mean like falling, literally?”

“Yes.”

“Like the way a human eye can see? Like a comet, maybe, or a meteor?” Sam inquired.

“Why do you ask?”

“It means it’s trackable. Something that was significant enough to document. We just have to find when and where.”

“Pamela get home okay?” Anna asked as she approached you and Dean who were talking outside by his car. Again, you two were the ones who brought her home.

“Yeah. She said she was sorry. It's just after last time, she, uh... This is just a little too rich for her blood,” you said softly.

“I don't blame her. You guys should do the same.”

“Well, we're not that smart,” Dean sighed. “Can I ask you something? What do they want me for? Why did they save me?”

“I'm sorry. The angels aren't talking about it, and it was after I fell.”

“Do you know anything about Amara?” you wondered.

“As far as I know, she’s a bedtime story. Way past my time.”

“But you said she lives within me.”

“I can tell some part of her is there. The stories I heard match what you have inside you. I couldn’t tell before because I fell, I don’t have my grace.”

“That's another question. Why would you fall? Why would you want to be one of us?”

“You don't mean that.”

“I don't? A bunch of miserable bastards... Eating, shitting, confused, afraid,” Dean said which made you sigh.

“I don't know. There's loyalty... forgiveness... love.”

“Pain.”

“Chocolate cake.”

“Guilt.”

“Sex,” Anna said which made you laugh. Dean nodded as he stared at you with something mysterious in his eyes.

“Yeah, you got me there.” Blushing, you bit your bottom lip.

“I mean it. Every emotion, Dean, even the bad ones... It's why I fell. It's why... why I'd give anything not to have to go back. Anything.”

“Feelings are overrated if you ask me.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s grumpy half the time,” you dismissed him.

“Well, it beats being an Angel,” Anna sighed.

“How's that possible? You guys are powerful and perfect. You don't doubt yourselves or God or anything.”

“Perfect... Like a marble statue. Cold... no choice... only obedience. Dean, do you know how many angels have actually seen God? Seen his face?”

“All of you?”

“Four angels. Four, and I'm not one of them.”

“That’s it?” you scoffed. “Well, then how do you even know that there is a God?”

“We have to take it on faith... Which we're killed if we don't. I was stationed on earth for 2,000 years. Just... watching... silent... invisible... out on the road... sick for home... waiting on orders from an unknowable father I can't begin to understand. So don't tell me that,” Dean laughed which made her pause. “What is so funny?”

“Nothing. Sorry. It's just...I can relate.”

“More than you think,” you added.

“Hey,” Sam said as he jogged out to the three of you.

“Did you find something?”

“I think so,” Sam nodded. Deciding to pick this conversation up another time, you three followed the younger brother inside to find out what he knew.

“Union, Kentucky. Found some accounts of a local miracle,” Sam explained as he showed you the website. “In '85, there was an empty field outside of town. Six months later, there was a full-grown oak. They say it looks a century old at least.”

“The grace. Where it hit, it could have done something like that, easy.”

“So, grace ground zero—it's not destruction. It's pure creation.”

“We better get moving if we want to make it there before dawn,” you said as you grabbed your jacket. Everyone followed suit, and before you knew it, you five were on the road in the middle of the night. Sam and Dean up from like it always were with you, the ex-angel, and the demon in the back; you in the middle.

The whole car ride was silent which was tense, but there was no way you’d talk about what was on your mind with the two creatures in the car. It didn’t matter since the drive wasn’t that long. Soon, you were out and looking at a big beautiful oak tree.

“It's beautiful,” Dean breathed.

“It's where the grace touched down. I can feel it.”

“You ready to do this?” you asked.

“Not really.”

“Anna, what are we even looking for?” Sam questioned. Anna placed her hands on the tree trunk but frowned.

“It doesn't matter. It's not here. Not anymore. Someone took it,” she sighed deeply.

“Look, there is a barn over there,” you suggested as you pointed to the closest one. “We have the hex bags. Let’s just go in there until we can figure out what to do.” Everyone agreed on that, so you trekked to the barn. Once inside, Dean was the first one to speak.

“I say we head back to the panic room.”

“What, forever?” Ruby snapped.

“I’m just thinking out loud!”

“Oh, you call that thinking?”

“Leave him alone,” you glared.

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey. Stop it,” Sam groaned.

“Anna's grace is gone. You understand? She can't angel up. She can't protect us. We can't fight Heaven and Hell. One side maybe, but not both. Not at once.”

“Um... guys? The angels are talking again.”

“What are they saying?”

“It's weird... Like a recording... a loop. It says, ‘Dean Winchester gives us Anna by midnight, or we hurl him back to damnation’.”

“Well, it was nice knowing you Anna,” you said, dead set on revealing her.

“Y/N,” Dean sighed.

“No, I am not letting you go back to Hell. If handing over Anna prevents that… sorry, Anna but I choose Dean every time.”

“Do you know of any weapon that works on an angel? To kill them?” Sam asked, ignoring your comment for now.

“Nothing we could get to... Not right now.”

“I say we call Bobby. We get him back from hedonism,” Dean suggested.

“Dean, what's he gonna tell us that we don't already know?” you asked.

“I don't know, but we got to think of something!”

“I know what we have to do. We’re handing Anna over!” you yelled before storming out of the barn. Your legs took you to the car where you leaned against it, trying to clear your mind. Everyone was on edge, but there was no way you were letting Dean go back to Hell for some Angel who fell. Nope, not on your watch.

30 minutes passed before Dean came outside to talk to you. After speaking with everyone inside, he wanted to see how you were doing.

“Y/N,” he started.

“No, Dean, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Sam, Anna, and Ruby are figuring out another way to get her Grace back.”

“Dean, I am not letting you go back to Hell,” you said with tears in your eyes. “I have control over this now, and if I can do something about it, I will. I won’t lose you again.”

“Y/N, you’re not going to lose me,” he said as he wiped your tears away. “They have a plan in there, and it’s crazy but it just might work.”

“What plan?”

“Let’s just say it involves Ruby getting the demons here while we try and figure out a way to bring the Angels here. It’s their fight, so, let’s have them fight it.”

“Good, I love you so much, and I won’t be able to handle you gone a second time.”

“I know,” he whispered as he leaned down to give you a sweet and short kiss. However, once your lips touched, it was a whole other ballpark. The urgency was there as clear as day by the way Dean was pressing you into his car. Whatever intentions he had before flew out the window the moment he got his hands on you. With all this tension flying in the air, you had this pent-up energy that had to go somewhere. The car was here, everyone was inside, so sex it is.

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[painfulstitches17]

The Fires of Spring

3. Breathe.

A few months had come and gone, now in the middle of summer. Their relationship had progressed, yes, but not in the way Bandit would've liked, far too friendly and platonic to his taste. He was torn between following his heart and following his conscience when he looked at Jäger. Right now ? He tried not to look at him, he couldn't stomach the frightening look of anger, wait, rage that he was giving the vehicle's floor and anyone who tried to calm him down. Poor Doc, sitting right next to a ticking time bomb, crazy enough to try and disarm it. It was better for the both of them (and any collateral damage) if he stayed away for a while.

Bandit, Jäger, Kapkan, Valkyrie, Doc and the accompanying crew. The mission had been successful, no casualties, little to no injuries, what you'd expect from counter terrorism experts, right ? Well, Bandit made sure that this outcome would be hard to obtain in the end.

Every operators deployed this morning had a hunch something was wrong with Dominic. He was worse than usual, looked like it, to the point that he told them to "shut the fuck up and focus" with clear frustration in his voice, killing the chatter on the ride to the site as everybody was either shocked or upset.

An hostage situation in the middle of the city, tricky. Several streets had been evacuated. On site, they managed to empty the building of most of the present white masks on their way in, it was now a matter of protecting the hostages of any new waves of attacks before back up arrived. They had underestimated their numbers, unfortunately. The fight was far from over, Jäger took a quick look towards Bandit, pure concentration as expected. When he saw him take down a white mask, however, something glimmered in Dom's eyes, something sinister, a thirst for blood he had seen before, something more.

It's when Bandit disappeared without a word that Jäger's stomach turned. "Bandit ?" He called softly over the radio. Silence. He tried again, met with silence once more. Something was up and judging by the C4 that had just detonated, Bandit had made his way downstairs. What was he thinking going alone, to an unknown number of assailants nonetheless ? "I'm leaving my position" he said, making his way to the room Bandit should've been in, then silently making his way down the stairs. It reeked of blood and he soon found the source, as it was plastered on the walls alongside little bits and pieces of what were once men.

He could feel the tension, dust still coming down after the blow. He thanked whatever god there might be for being such a trained soldier, he wanted to puke, not just the blood and gore but the fear that Bandit was gone, that he may even be standing in his remains. He had to keep going, he couldn't back down, he couldn't freeze now. His brain was screaming, begging for a breakdown. Breathe Marius. Where the fuck did that asshole go ?

Grunts coming from the floor below caught Jäger's attention, ignoring the calls coming from the radio, a familiar voice was luring him in. Two people were fighting in front of him down the wrecked corridor, lights flickering above them before drowning them in almost complete darkness for a few seconds, rinse and repeat. He could discern a knife in the upper man's hand, his wrist firmly gripped by the man underneath who was actively trying to stop the fist coming up to his face repeatedly. He missed a few times, then came the sound of bone crushing and a groan, Dominic's voice. The hand on the terrorist's wrist swayed and has he was about to lower the knife to his victim, time seemingly slowing down, a gunshot rang.

Bandit was alive. It had almost been over, almost. A wave of something incomprehensible at first washed over him as the dead man fell on him. "Let me help you !" Jäger was on top now, pushing the corpse away, frantically searching for any signs of injury. "Y-Your nose is bleeding Dominic. You'll be fine..." Worry was palpable in his voice "Don't worry about me." Back up on his feet, he muttered a soft "thank you", almost unnoticeable. Bandit had a hard time looking at Jäger. He fucked up, but he wouldn't admit it, especially not in which way he meant. He was a strong man, smart even if not as smart as some in Rainbow, not in the same way, but even the very best have flaws. They made their way back to their objective, reassuring their teammates in the process.

It was finally over, everyone could breathe again. The last one sitting in the improvised med bay, Dominic was trying not to curse at Gustave while he tended to his very much broken nose. "I reckon hearing Marius speaking about your little escapade while on mission Dominic, non ?" That stung more than the alcohol being applied. "I didn't go that far. I killed two of them and then got fucking ambushed." He argued back "Maybe, but had Jäger not been with you, or had he not realized you had left, you'd be lying in a plastic bag right now.  You depended on him and he did too, we all do. What would he have done had you failed Dominic ?" And he was right, what would've happened if his selfishness had gotten the best of him ? He couldn't answer, admitting his faults was hard, he had felt guilty plenty of times in his life before and each time, he preferred distancing himself as needed over apologizing, taking the blow. Unless Six was sitting in front of him, of course.

"Écoute, I understand you're going through a rough period right now judging from your files but you cannot let it affect you while on mission. I'm sure you already know this, Tu vois, you're smarter than this Dominic. You might get a talk from Six if she hears about it... If you need time off, come to my office, alright ? We could schedule a few more appointments with your therapist too, if you'd like. Oh, and your nose should be fine for now." Doc put a hand on Bandit's shoulder, a genuine smile as expected. He knew when to be harsh, but it never came without a good reason. Especially when your last name was Brunsmeier. "Allez zou, dehors ! I've got cleaning up to do." And with that, Bandit left with a thankful nod.

But the problems weren't over, they had just begun. He was now facing Jäger, still in his gear and visibly upset judging from his body language. Fuck. Once the younger man had spotted him, he grabbed his arm almost painfully and dragged him down the street.

Jäger was rather quiet in his day to day life, he could talk a lot if the topic was of interest, sure, but he wasn't loud, so when the entirety of the crew started hearing his voice in a crescendo of anger from the other end of the street, they were surprised. Bandit's nonchalant attitude wasn't helping, Jäger was getting visibly upset, pushing the other against the wall at one point, pointing his finger to his chest. They were both raising their voices now, but the engineer was louder, far more aggressive, making Bandit back down. It was so unlike him all of a sudden. People started looking at each other to know who would volunteer if a fist fight broke, it sounded that bad.

Most of the public left, leaving the special ops to assess the level of trouble Bandit had gotten himself into between themselves. "Are we sure he's mad ? German does sound like an angry language. They call ambulances krankenwagen after all." Kapkan was pleased by his joke until Jäger removed his helmet, throwing it at the wall next to Bandit who flinched, closely followed by his balaclava. "Nevermind." Kapkan added. They went their own way afterward.

Bandit had never seen such an outburst of anger coming from Jäger, to the point where he left crying and he suspected his old time friend unhealthy coping mechanisms to have followed where he went to hide. He had to admit, trying to downplay the situation he had put himself in hadn't been the best call. Saying that "well, he wouldn't have suffered for long" really threw Marius over the edge, hadn't it ? You acted like an asshole to the man who saved your life whether you liked it or not. Worse yet, the man you've realised you love. He knew how he'd been feeling since he had helped him, watching Marius scream at him in their mother tongue, disappointed. Disappointed in the fact that he hurt him not once, but twice. Disappointed that he treated Marius like everybody else, like he meant nothing. Disappointedthat he didn't miscalculate his C4 and blew up.Disappointed that he got saved when the knife should've met his throat, he would've been gone putting a fight. But he felt pathetic right now, puking on the side of the road. It was hard to breathe, containing any tears that might try to escape.

Maybe Dominic should take Doc's offer on therapy.

  -----

"Here's our resident asshole ! I've been looking for you. Shouldn't you be in bed ?" James Porter in person, nicknamed Smoke, hugging a sweaty Bandit from behind before he could hit the punching bag in front of him.

"Don't touch me. What do you want Porter ? I've only got a broken nose, I don't need to rest." Bandit spat back.

"Calm down Princess, I'm here to help you. I thought you'd be resting after the humiliation your little dove gave you. The lad burnt you pretty badly didn't he ?" Smokes' laugh felt like nails on a chalkboard right now.

"Stop saying that shit out loud, why did I ever tell a cunt like you of all people about it ?" Dom was getting increasingly upset.

"Because you know I'm an expert in that field, honey." He winked.

"Such an expert sending Mark" James jumped at Mute's name "a pair of lacy men's underwear, not even for Valentine's day may I add, in the hopes that he would forward your advances, which I'd call sexual harassment to be quite frank, Bärchen" Classic Smoke.

"Who said he didn't like it ? I didn't hear back, sure, but maybe he's shy about it !" Keep telling yourself that, Bandit thought.

"C'mon, stop wasting my time, what do you want ?" He still liked Smoke, so he toned it down a bit.

"I wanted to ask you how you were feeling. You kind of went on a suicide mission there Dominic. Would you like to join me on the roof with a few beers ?" Here it was, the serious Smoke.

And what about it ? It wouldn't have been the first time but it could've been the last, sure. Alcohol did sound like an option right now though. "Alright, just promise me you won't puke your guts out on me again."

"I promise baby boo. The beers packs are in front of the door, could you get them up there for me ? I have to drop this report." He was waving his papers in front of Bandit.

Dominic hummed in agreement, watching Smoke leave while blowing a kiss on his way out. Why did he feel like something was up ?

He could do with breathing some fresh air anyway. ___ Chapter Index.

#rainbow six siege #r6s bandit #r6s jager #r6s #bandit x jager #jager/bandit #the fires of spring #PainfulStitches17 #Fanfic #fanfiction

[nightmareonfilmstreet]

The Monster Behind The Mask: Remembering FRIDAY THE 13TH PART III

Friday the 13th Part III was released theatrically in the United States on Friday, August 13, 1982. 36 years ago tonight. Does that make you feel as old as Pamela Vorhees’ grey sweater? If the answer is a resounding ‘No, you fool – I was born in the 80’s, I had to wait at least a decade until I watched Jason mutilating camp counselors’, then welcome to this special look back on one of the more divisive Friday the 13th films. Grab your machetes, pull down your ice-hockey masks and don your wacky green/red 3-D spectacles, because we’re heading to Higgins Haven for some stabby-stabby fun with Jason Voorhees.

By the time Friday the 13th Part 2 (1981) came around in theaters, audiences had become swamped with low-quality slasher titles. Slasher film fatigue had set in hard, and although Jason’s second outing grossed over $21.7 million in the United States on a budget of $1.25 million, fans were disappointed with a rehashing of the original story, and it failed to pull in the original’s box office success. The fact that they gave no explanation to the ridiculous ending of Part II showed that the people in charge didn’t really put much value in the continuity or story progression. One thing everyone could agree on though: Jason needed to be scarier. He needed to be a real boogeyman. And to get there, there were going to need a gimmick to get that cold hard cash-vein open again. They needed…3D.

  A New Dimension In Terror

      The titles jumped out at you like Superman’s cosmic intro, only….cheaper looking. Not to mention a bombastic funky 70’s inspired theme that I totally dug, man. What you have to remember is that in 1982 although 3D film-making was still in its infancy (Jaws 3D anyone?) by 2010, it had become almost commonplace for any film released to be retrofitted for a new dimension of sight and sound. Friday the 13th Part III, however, paved the way for future 3D films. You may have a strong fondness for everything three dimensional, but for all the people that love donning plastic visors on their head the other bemoan the comically irritating ploy to cough up more money at the box office. I wear glasses and absolutely hate 3D films becuase it feels like I’m wearing glasses on top of glasses…which I am!

Unless you have your own pair of flimsy pre-revolutionary 3D glasses, (which I doubt you have) you’re going to see a lot of shots of people waggling sticks at the camera, having yo-yo’s thrown at them. You’ll also be treated to an overly long lingering shot of a crazy old man sticking an eyeball uncomfortably close to the screen. Steve Miner (who also directed Part II) returned to the director’s post to helm Friday the 13th: Part III and this new dimension of terror that continues straight after the events of Part 2.

  .

The Higgins Haven Massacre

    Just like its predecessor, the film opens with an extraordinarily long recap of the previous film. We see final girl Ginny (Amy Steel) running away from ‘Baghead Jason,’ trapped in the makeshift cabin Jason has been holed up in with his mother’s severed head lovingly affixed to a small alter. Ginny tricks Jason into thinking she’s his mother, by donning her sweater and generally berating the child-like minded serial killer. Before she can use her machete on him however, Jason sees his mummified mumma’s head and avoids her killing blow. Paul (John Furey) appears and begins wrestling with Jason. While Jason is distracted, Ginny hacks him in slow-motion with his own machete. They assume he’s dead, but we see Jason slowly moving off the screen. Cue: Opening Credits.

Originally, Friday the 13th Part III was supposed to focus on lone survivor Ginny Field, (Sorry, Paul) who checks herself into a mental institution after her traumatic escapade with the pillow-wearing, dungaree killer. The film would have been similar in that vein to the popular Halloween II (1981), with Jason tracking down Ginny in the hospital, but that idea was abandoned when actress Amy Steel declined to reprise her role. Perhaps she didn’t want to be typecast as the scream queen for this particular franchise, but by 1986 she was again up on screen evading a knife-wielding killer in the slasher parody April’s Fool Day (1986). There was also speculation that producers were worried fans would reject a Friday the 13th which didn’t follow the established formula.

    I would love to find a script with this narrative, because the franchise may have steered in a different direction (or it could have died a horrible death right there and then). Every good franchise needs a protagonist the audience can root for. Alien (1979) had Ripley, A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) had Nancy and Halloween (1978) had Laurie. You could argue that Friday the 13th had Tommy Jarvis, but he didn’t appear until the fourth installment. Looks like Steel missed the boat on this one if the powers that be really wanted her as the series’ Final Girl. With 12 films, a whole bunch of novels, video games, and the short-lived television series under their belt though. it looks like they went the right way.

Our new group of young victims are as follows: New Final Girl Chris (Dana Kimmell), ‘Spanish Phoebe Cates’ Vera (Catherine Parks), hot and steamy couple Debbie (Tracie Savage) and Andy (Jeffrey Rogers), hippie potheads Chili (Rachel Howard) and Chuck (David Katims), and franchise favourite, the lovable self-deprecating prankster Shelly Finkelstein (Larry Zerner).

      The group arrives at Higgins Haven, a cottage (with a barn!) a mere stones-throw away from Packanack cabin, where the previous slaughter took place. The Scooby Doo/Cheech and Chong gang meet up with country farm boy Rick (Paul Kratka). It’s quickly established that he and Chris had a romantic tryst during their last summer at the lakeside cottage, and Rick instantly tries to get back to where things left off by feeling her up. Not cool, man. Not. Cool.

Chris explains that she wants to get to know him again but he responds that there are only so many ‘cold showers’ he could take. Wowzer. He essentially behaves like this for the entirety of the movie (bar one scene when Chris recounts a traumatic experience) but the weird thing is the filmmakers seem to want you to empathize with this guy – like he’s the hero of the movie. Film of the time, I guess?

      After some tomfoolery from Shelley (and without the slightest irony of axe-wielding maniac foreshadowing), we’re introduced to a group of bikers that marks the first time in the franchise we’re introduced to black actors. It’s just a shame that they turn out to be scumbags. All the while, Jason’s been hiding in the barn, looking menacing from an over the shoulder perspective. He dispatches of the bikers when they arrive at the cottage to take their revenge on Shelley and the gang, following an altercation at a shop in town. Don’t assume that Jason is here to protect anyone though. He quickly sets his sights on the college co-eds and, of course, things really ramp up when he dons the now iconic ice hockey mask for the first time.

People will argue what their favourite Friday the 13th movie is until the end of days. Did you like the characterization of the teenagers in Part 2 or 4? Did you simply enjoy the hack n’ slash nature of the original? Were you excited when Jason went to Hell? Some people just want to watch cheesy 80’s effects and have some popcorn while devouring grisly death sequences with their eyes. But something doesn’t sit right with the third outing. They could have gone a much deeper, darker route with Chris‘ that might have lead Mr. Vorohees‘ down a very sketchy road. I’m obviously talking about…

    The Final Girl

    Late in the film, we see Chris and Rick sharing some quality catch-up time together. Up until this point Chris has been hinting that something terrible happened to her but now she’s finally ready to share her story. Even after Amy Steel declined to return, it’s safe to assume that some fragments from earlier drafts were kept to highlight Ginny’s (now Chris’s) trauma from the previous movie.

Chris explains that, while on vacation, she came home late one night which caused her to have an argument with her folks. She fled her house and ran into the woods where she fell asleep under a tree. Some time later, she was awoken by the sound of footsteps. The footsteps belong to none other than Jason and he grabs at her legs as she struggles to get away. She goes on to explain that she woke up in her own bed the following morning, without any recollection of what transpired after she was captured.

    So what happened here? It’s unlikely that she would have survived an attack by Jason, so how did she escape? The series has been known for its nonsensical dream sequences and poorly crafted plot devices, but this is a pretty big moment for Jason. There are theories that she was raped by Jason and there are novels that further explain the story, but some people on the film claim this ambiguous resolution was always planned since actually outright calling it a rape would be too much for audiences to take at the time. Others say Dana Kimmell who played Chris, was a devout Mormon and forced the producer’s hand since she was uncomfortable with going so far as to call it a rape scene. However, at the start of the film, a reporter states that “Reports of cannibalism and sexual mutilations are still unconfirmed, at this hour.” It would seem that someone in the production wanted Jason to have a much darker streak than his previous appearances.

There are many articles and essays about The Final Girl in horror films, but this one scene could have changed the balance of how viewers perceived Jason Voorhees as a child-like killing machine with mommy issues, into something far more dangerous and disturbing.

    Friday the 13th Part III is a divisive film. The franchise needed a shot to the arm and ultimately it would be 3D effects supervisor Martin Jay Sadoff that inadvertently created a movie monster boogeyman. As it happens, Sadoff kept a bag full of hockey gear with him and the crew wanted a mask to avoid applying prosthetic make up on actor Richard Brooker all the time. This is the first film where we see Jason for an extended period of time, as opposed to keeping him in the shadows constantly. The plot is nonsensical, sure – the characters are paper thin and forgettable, the 3D effects are mostly a gimmick – but in the cannon of the series, it catapulted Jason to an iconic status. And for that, Part 3 will forever remain ingrained in fan’s minds.

How do you rank Friday The 13th Part III. Is it one of your favourites, or do you consider it one of the weaker additions to the franchise? Let us know in the comments below, over on Twitter, or in our Horror Group on Facebook!

You can also take a look behind the scenes of Friday the 13th Part 3D with host, Paul Kratka, in this insightful fan driven documentary featuring untold stories and interviews with several franchise favorites, never-before-seen location footage and set photography, as well as a touching look back on the life of Richard Brooker.

  The post The Monster Behind The Mask: Remembering FRIDAY THE 13TH PART III appeared first on Nightmare on Film Street - Horror Movie Podcast, News and Reviews.

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#IFTTT #WordPress #horror #horror movies #nightmareonfilmstreet #nightmare on film street #horror pod

[annebrontesrequiem]

Could you do a HC for RFA+Saeran playfighting with MC please? I love your blog so much thank youu~💙

Dated Dec 14 2017

Sorry that this took so long! I finally got my computer to charge again. It was a real reign of terror! I’m so happy you love my blog and I will do my best to bring you hc to life!

 Zen

·       Zen was feeling down, he hadn’t gotten the role he wanted in a musical, it was Enjolras from Les Miserables if anyone was wondering

·       So, when you saw him, face first in the pillows, you knew you needed to do something…

·       You decided laughing was the best medicine, and was quickly inspired-

·       “PILLOW FIGHT!” Your voice rang out, startling him

·       He turned around, just in time to have a pillow smashed in his face

·       Checking to see if he was dead you saw he took the fluffy pillow, and promptly chucked it right back into your face

·       You were so surprised by it you began to nervously laugh, which just gave him time to grab the other pillows lying around

·       Grabbing more and more pillows (eventually scouring the whole apartment) the fight got bigger and bigger, lasting a lot longer than you imagined

·       Eventually it had to end when Zen tripped over himself and nearly broke his nose

·       Hetoldyouitwasfinebutyouknowbetter

·       So, you guys ended up just sort of collapsing on the couch, absentmindedly letting the TV blare

·       It was peaceful

·       “I hope you feel better Zen?” It was more of a question than a statement, and he smiled down at you, who was lying down, head on his lap, absently tugging on his ponytail

·       “Of course, Jagi.” He gave you free hand a squeeze. “You always cheer me up.”

·       “Even if you almost died?”

·       “I tripped!”

·       He’ll never admit how close to death he was, but that didn’t matter, what matter was he felt better about his situation, if only for a little while, there would always be other roles, but no one could replace the moments in melancholy, which now thankful were avoided…

Yoosung

·       You guys were at a convention

·       Isanyonesurprised

·       And let’s just say your costumes were awesome!

·       That included the weaponry

·       They were fake of course, you couldn’t just take a real sword into a convention

·       But these props were perfectly good substitutes

·       And not just in looks

·       You weaving in-and-out of crowds, when Yoosung turned around, and his sword unfortunately smacked you straight in the face

·       Yeahyouweresupergratefulaboutthat

·       Of course the minute he saw you holding your nose in slight pain he flipped out

·       “I’m so sorry I mortally wounded you!!!”

·       “Yoosung, it’s okay!”

·       Yeah like he was going to listen to that!

·       You didn’t bring it up for the rest of the con

·       But when you got home…

·       “Did you have a good day MC?”

·       “En garde!”

·       You swung your sword up, stopping it at his chin, as if to cut his head up

·       Yoosung was bewildered

·       “MC?!”

·       “ARGGHHHHHHH”

·       You swung your sword and brought it down on his head

·       Thankfullyitwasn’tmetalamirite

·       Yoosung yelped, and then went to grab his sword

·       You guys ended up sparring around the room, trying not to trip over the couch, and lamps

·       “MC! Not the TV!”

·       Thankfully you sidestepped that particular obstacle

·       Crisisaverted!

·       The battle ended when Yoosung spectacularly fell, hitting his head on the couch

·       “Yoosung!”

·       “I’m okay – “

·       You pulled him onto the couch

·       “That’s enough fighting for today.”

·       “Okay…”

·       You kissed him lightly on the head

·       “I love you Yoosung….”

Jaehee

·       Jaehee wasn’t for playfighting

·       Not because she didn’t find it incredibly fun and cute

·       But more because she knew that if she got too carried away….

·       But sometimes you wished she’d playfight with you

·       Especially when it was snowing…

·       You had dragged Jaehee outside when you guys had managed to get seven inches of fluffy stuff on the ground

·       And you planned to enjoy every minute of it

·       “Jaehee!!!! Look at all the snow!!!”

·       “I know MC.” Jaehee stood standing, her arms wrapped tightly around herself against the cold, a very annoyed expression on her face

·       You either took no notice, or didn’t care, deciding to continue in your escapades in the snow

·       But eventually you got sick of Jaehee just standing there, and looking quite uncomfortable, so you decided something had to be done

·       “ATTACKKK!” You pelted Jaehee in the face with a heap of snow

·       At first, she just sputtered in surprise, but then an annoyed smirk crossed her face

·       “Well, you asked for it!” She scooped up some snow next to her, and you started running across the yard, giggling like a first grader jacked up on pixie sticks

·       YouknowwhatI’mtalkingabout

·       Of course, she didn’t miss and you ended up stumbling, and falling

·       “Hmph!” You breathed, before throwing more snow, which exploded, and didn’t really hit anything

·       Jaehee laughed at your look of indignance by your failed snowball, and continue hitting her mark

·       Eventually you guys took to wrestling in the snow, asonedoes, and you victoriously shoved her into a snowbank

·       She then flipped you on your back, and the air was knocked out of your lungs, hitting the snow hard

·       “Oh my God MC I’m so sorry are you okay!”

·       “Ye-s” you were quite out of breath

·       Jaehee, being who she was, scooped you up, princess-style, and carried you off to the apartment

·       “You don’t need to carry me on the bus”

·       “Shut up yes I do!”

·       Setting you in a chair when you guys got home Jaehee made the most cream-filled hot chocolate you’d ever tasted

·       “Jaehee how did you never do this before!!!!”

·       Jaehee just blushed

·       Later when you guys were cuddling she resumed her worries

·       “MC, I’m so sorry. I really should’ve payed more attention.”

·       “No, Jaehee it’s okay! Like you said, I asked for it! Besides, I had an incredible amount of fun!”

·       “You’re sure?”

·       “Of course, I am!”

·       “-Thank you.”

·       “No thank you! Forever.”

·       It was a good night

Jumin

·       “ONE DAY MORE!!!”

·       You were jumping around the (main) living room at Jumin’s, scream-singing your favorite musical

·       “Are you Cosette and I Marius?”

·       You turned around, surprised to see Jumin behind you, arms holding Elizabeth, a small, amused, smile on his face

·       You gaped, Jumin, recognizing a musical, and characters!

·       Slowly a grin spread across your face

·       “No!” You commanded, taking a pillow and pointing it towards him, your chest puffed out, you chin high

·       “You are Grantaire! I am Enjolras! We fight together to dispel the autocracy! We fight for freedom!”

·       “Okay Enjolras…”

·       “Now fight my friend!” You screamed, throwing Jumin a pillow

·       Jumin let it fall, before setting down Elizabeth and picking it up

·       “Jumin…”

·       “What?”

·       “Never mind.”

·       There were no people to fight, so you guys just sort of started fighting yourselves

·       “This isn’t exactly accurate…”

·       “Shut up and throw the pillow!”

·       You guys didn’t have anyone to fight with (and Jumin wasn’t going to let you touch Elizabeth)

·       So, you just decided to fight each other

·       After Jumin managed to make all the workers disappear for a little bit you guys really didn’t hold anything back

·       “MC, don’t tip over that chair!”

·       “It’s a barricade Jumin!”

·       Despite the silliness you both were happy for a break

·       Recently work had been quite stressful, with Jumin managing a relationship of the kind he had never had before, and with you learning to adapt yourself to the kind of climate you were to be subjected to, being with the son of a very successful CEO

·       So, the chances to have some fun were few and far between

·       Eventually you guys just sort of passed out on the couch of exhaustion

·       “Jumin, we need to clean up now.”

·       “I think we can do that later, let’s read more of Dracula.”

·       Heknewyousowell

Saeyoung

·       Now if there were ever two people that would go all out when it came to fighting

·       It was you two

·       “MC let’s build huge forts in the apartment out of metal and make trebuchet and lob fake heads over like the Mongols!”

·       “Yes!”

·       The lengths that you two would go to have a fight was ridiculous

·       “Now you’re going to be burned at the stake!”

·       “Well, let’s get some wood.”

·       The rest of the RFA was amazed no one had gotten seriously injured or, let’s be honest, killed in the shenanigans that you two had done

·       One Saturday you two were just hanging out

·       Nothing was planned, no big escapades or pranks, just two people hanging out, watching some TV

·       Yeah, that lasted about as long expected

·       “Wow, that action scene in Winter Soldier was awesome!” You threw yourself back on the couch

·       “The fighting choreography was quite impressive!” Saeyoung noted, combing his fingers through his hair

·       “No kidding, damn, I wish we could do something like that!”

·       “Why not?” You stared as the smile that began to spread across the ginger’s face

·       “We can’t just get people to teach us! You need to find and schedule for something like that!”

·       “Aww, MC!” Saeyoung pouted, you just laughed

·       “Okay, okay.” You picked up a paper plate, left over from God knows what, you never cleaned, and chucked it straight at Saeyoung’s face, flicking it so it would spin slightly, like a frisbee

·       Saeyoung caught it, and chucked it back, before finding a plastic knife, also on the coffee table, and pulling his sweater over his mouth

·       “Damn, that’s a good-looking Winter Soldier.” You noted, smirking slightly

·       “And aren’t you a wonderful Captain!” Saeyoung retorted

·       You guys stopped talking then, focusing on trying to recreate the scene you’d just watched, and trying not to kill anyone in the process

·       You guys got pretty far

·       Until Saeran walked it

·       He just stared for a second

·       Then the yelling commenced

·       “WHAT are you two doing!!!” You guys just kept staring at each other

·       Then a smile spread across both of your faces

·       Suddenly Saeran was bombarded by paper and plastic eating utensils

·       “CLEAN UP AT LEAST!” He yelled, running away from the dangers of the TV Room

·       You guys waited until you were sure he was gone, before starting once again

·       Eventually though you two decided enough was enough, and like Saeran asked, cleaned up the mess you’d created

·       “Oh, there’s where that lighsaber went!”

·       “Hey! I found the lever for the guillotine!”

·       Lots of memories

·       When you were done, you two collapsed on the couch

·       “That was fun.”

·       “Yeah, it really was.”

·       You turned and kissed him. “But we should really learn some actual stage/film combat though.”

·       He laughed, before kissing you back. “Definitely”

Saeran

·       Saeran was never really one for playfighting

·       He had too many memories, too many things that had happened

·       You understood this, and acted accordingly

·       Jaehee was good for pillow fights, Zen for snowballing, and Saeyoung for, well, anything else

·       But you sometimes wished you two could just have a good, old fashioned, play fight

·       However, you understood why you couldn’t ask for that, and you never said anything about it, and it was never brought up

·       One day, Saeran came home from a walk to find you, your head buried into your covers, groaning loudly

·       “Everything okay?” He walked over to you, but you just shifted away from him

·       “This paper is driving me clinically insane!” You groaned. “I haven’t slept well in weeks! And I’m so stressed I’m thinking of seeing an anxiety therapist again! It’s been years!” You pounded your fists into the memory-foam pillows

·       Saeran just stroked your head

·       “Poor baby.” You grumbled again, before swatting his hand away like a cat.

·       “Hmph!” Saeran looked dejected for a minute, but then a slow, calculated, smile, crept across this face

·       Going to stroke your hair again, he found you once again batted his hand away

·       “Don’t be like that MC!” He teased

·       “I’ll be like that if I want to!” You retorted, flapping your hands at him

·       Saeran flapped back, and you two started hitting each other, in the stupidest way possible

·       You started laughing, and Saeran, despite himself, found him smiling, and smiling

·       Eventually Saeran just threw you over his shoulder and carried you to the couch

·       “What was that forrr!” You raised an eyebrow

·       “To get you close enough to the kitchen to grab some ice-cream. And then, back to work!” He took an exaggerated French accent at that last phrase, and you giggled, Ratatouille in your mind. The idea that Saeran was like a short angry cook was quite absurd

·       After the ice-cream was eaten you slogged back to work, while Saeran went to finish up the tub of Eddy’s

·       That was fun. You thought, I don’t remember ever doing something like that before…

·       Then it dawned on you, that was your first playfight!

·       You nearly squealed with happiness

·       This paper went a lot faster after….

Hope you like! Sorry for being gone so long!! And sorry if this isn’t great, but it’s 23:38, and I am EXHAUSTED!!! Hope you like, and feel free to tell me your opinions!

 Going to NYC for something special, but an HC will be up if not tomorrow then by the end of Sunday!

#mysme #mystic messenger #otome game #zen hc #Zen Headcanon #yoosung hc #yoosung headcanon #jaehee kang #jaehee hc #jaehee headcanon #Yoosung Kim #zen mystic messenger #yoosung mystic messenger #jaehee mysme #zen mysme #yoosung mysme #jaehee mystic messenger #jumin han #jumin hc #jumin headcanon #jumin mysme #saeyoung choi #saeyoung hc #saeyoung headcanon #707 hc #707 headcanon #luciel choi #saeran choi #saeran hc #saeran headcanon

[babygirl-pluvian]

Lucitober Day 9: Eve

Eve packed several of the thin, flimsy bags full of at least two apples of each color that she could find. The building she was in was called a “grocery store”. The humans of today were now strange creatures - everything had a name of some kind that required much explanation from Lucifer. And they had so many rules! Eve smirked to herself as she handed the young woman behind the strange looking counter the square of strange material (Lucifer had explained that the material was “plastic” and this item in particular was called a “credit card” and was required for bartering). The rules of trade and bartering had changed significantly in the millenia she had been gone. Lucifer had given Eve her own “credit card” in order to avoid being manhandled by that awful human who accused her of stealing.

Back in the penthouse Eve awaited Lucifer’s return from his latest escapade with the Detective - Chloe Decker. Lucifer spent quite a lot of time with this woman, it almost made her jealous; but she tried to put that out of her mind as she arranged her apples in bowls in various arrays around the pethouse, the entire time trying to keep a patient smile in anticipation of Lucifer walking in from the lift at any minute. 

Soon after these thoughts crossed Eve’s mind she found herself behind the bar taking bottles down from the shelves, trying to decide what drinks to make for herself and Lucifer...whenever he decided to come back home…

Ding!

“Eve, darling! Sorry I’m late,” Lucifer’s voice once had the ability to draw a smile every time she heard it, but this time she screwed her face into a frown as she continued to mix a drink for herself. “The case the Detective and I are currently working on is slightly more of a challenge, though I find myself rather enjoying myself still.”

Eve sniffed as she put the bottles of liquor back on their shelves. “It’s always a case Lucifer,” she turned back around to start slicing an apple, slamming the knife with each thrust to emphasize her annoyance.

Lucifer stopped in his tracks just shy of the bar. “Well if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were upset by that.” Eve set down the knife and looked up at him. He was adjusting his cufflinks, as he usually did to occupy his hands regardless of emotion. Eve sighed and said, “No, I know your work is important to you.” She looked into his eyes and emphasized each next work, “I just miss you when you’re gone.”

Lucifer walked closer to Eve with the bar between them. He leaned forward toward her and breathed in his way that would make a lesser human woman weak in the knees, “Well I could think of ways to make it up to you.” There was that Devilish grin, though. That made her stomach flutter every time. Eve smiled a small smile that meant maybe she could forgive him. She took out the drink she had hidden behind the bar and handed it to Lucifer. She garnished her appletini and they clinked glasses. After they each took their drinks Lucifer leaned closer and bent town into Eve, and she reciprocated by leaning into him and kissing him.

Eve crawled up onto the bar to get closer and Lucifer walked closer. She sat up onto the bar and straddled her legs around him. Lucifer picked her up to carry her to the bed, while Eve had already begun to unzip her dress in the back, and as she held on Lucifer removed his jacket. Once Eve was thrown on the bed she looked at him and saw - not just his charm in his eyes and a wicked grin that meant pleasure - but happiness as well. And perhaps she could forgive him 

----

The next morning Eve yawned and stretched over to where Lucifer had fallen asleep. Except he wasn’t there, and his side of the bed was cold. She looked over at the night stand on her side and saw a white paper bag with the words “Sorry Love. Break in the case” written in black. She sighed and reached in the bag and pulled out a flakey pastry. An apple fritter. Eve placed the pastry back in the bag, the bag back on the nightstand, and a sad smile crossed her face as she remembered the first time Lucifer had tempted her with an apple. Her smile disappeared after a second, and she curled back into bed with the once happy memory in her mind.

[apsbicepstraining]

Bikini competitor find pushed to get silicone implant in order to triumphs

As the number of plastic surgeries played per year continues to rise, the body-positive parish has been chattering about cosmetic procedures: Are they an empowering alternative, or a course to cover up dangers? When fitness influencer and Blogilates founder Cassey Ho referred to her one-time hoped for breast augmentation on Instagram last week, we had to learn more about her take.

A little background: Ho’s #ThrowbackThursday upright furnished a view at her bikini challenger eras. The photo, take place within 2012, testifies Ho and three other bronzed maidens robe in tiny swimsuits.

#ThrowbackThursday to my bikini challenger in 2012. Never had I ever thought of adapting my torso until I understood the stark discrepancies between the girls who won and the girls who lost. All the girls that I converged that day was uniquely beautiful, but what I noticed was that the girls who situated Top 5 in my race all had boob job. I on the other mitt, residence near the bottom 5. Whether or not this was the case, it conducted me to believe that if I wanted to be a win, I’d is a requirement to get breast implant extremely. But I see now that I determine myself up for this psychological condition of weakness. When you put yourself up against other women in a physical bodybuilding challenger, your entire value is how you Ogle. Not who you are. Not your GPA. Not your aptitude. Not how nice “you think youre”. It’s literally how low-pitched your person fatty% is and whether or not the ratio of your waist to your tits and your laughingstock is better or worse than the girl next to you. And guess what? Your entire worth is a function of a body of judges who expend a few seconds looking at you like a piece of meat. In my moments of weakness, I did not encounter the situation clearly. I identified myself as less-than and I wanted to do whatever it took to win. I wanted boob. Boobs were gonna oblige me win, I conceived. The difficulty was…the reason for changing my body wasn’t for myself. I wanted to change my mas for a panel of evaluates I didn’t even know. And that’s where I stand on plastic surgery. 100% do it if it’s for you. I’m never gonna evaluate you for it! But if you’re doing it because someone else would be willing to? Stay far FAR away from plastic surgery! Changing your person to do someone else joyous is a NO-NO. I depart more in depth into this story on the most recent occurrence of the @besheroic podcast! It’s definitely a must-listen! Bit.ly/ besheroic( bio association) What’s your posture on plastic surgery? Also, delight NO BODY SHAMING of any sorting on this upright! #blogilates #besheroic

A post shared by Cassey Ho (@ blogilates) on Jul 13, 2017 at 9:20 pm PDT

In the caption, Ho writes that she noticed that day that the women who placed in the top five all had one thing in common: boob job. “[ I] t passed me was felt that if I wanted to be a win, I’d need to get breast enhancement extremely, ” she wrote. “The problem was…the reason for changing my mas wasn’t for myself. I wanted to change my body for a board of magistrates I didn’t even know.”

RELATED: THESE ARE THE RISKS OF BREAST IMPLANTS, ACCORDING TO A SURGEON

Ho didn’t end up going through with the reconstructive surgery she so desperately missed. In an interrogation with Health, she explained that she decided to move on from bikini challengers when she realized she had lost her infatuation for activity. “I was exclusively working out to see physical answers, that was it, ” she mentions. “Working out for pride isn’t going to fulfill your soul.”

So Ho returned back to physical works she used to affection: dancing and pilates. And since then her rejoice and feeling for fitness has attracted some 1.4 million admirers on Instagram and 3.8 million readers on YouTube.

While she’s no longer very interested in reconstructive surgery herself, Ho imagines the decision to have a cosmetic procedure is entirely personal. As she wrote on Instagram, “1 00% do it if it’s for you.” But if you’re doing it to try to satisfy someone else, think twice, she reminds. “Changing you person to constitute someone else joyous is a NO-NO.”

Finding harmony with my figure, my lifestyle, and my busines is something that I’ve fought with for a long time. And to be totally honest, I still do! I’ve been on both extremes. 1 If I exert a lot and curtail calories( satisfy don’t simply eat 1000 cals a day ever !!!!), I may be super recline and “look fit”, but I don’t have enough time or vitality to be innovative and excel with my work. 2 If I work too much, my firm may proliferate faster, but at the expense of me sitting in a chair the working day, becoming physically weaker while gaining load. So…finding that harmony was such a fickle thing…but once I ascertained it, I FELT UNSTOPPABLE. So as you can see, on my current photo, I’m not as lean( or as tan) as during my bikini competition, but I appear at PEACE. I appear strong. And you know what? I thoughts I appear GOOD! And! What I think is the only thing that are important when it comes to adjudicating my form. I get into this A LOT in the newest escapade of the @besheroic podcast! Go listen to it now to find out more about how to find your poise with works out. Bit.ly/ besheroic.( Bio link) Also could you please delight PLEASE rate and leave a review ?! I know it’s difficult to figure out how to do( like why iTunes why !?), but leaving its consideration of the item truly helps the podcast get discovered by more listeners! PLUS I truly wanna know what you frankly speculate! Thank you guys, and love you! #besheroic #piit28 #blogilates

A post shared by Cassey Ho (@ blogilates) on Jul 5, 2017 at 2:46 pm PDT

In our interview, Ho went on urge personalities and other influencers to disclose any design they’ve had done, since the effects can have such a potent aftermath on young women in the age of social media. “If you take a selfie and say it’s a no-makeup selfie, some girlfriend is going to look at that and be like, Oh my god, I’ll never look like that, even if you’ve had fillers and infusions, ” she clarifies. “Especially with groupings of young women still figuring out what induces them beautiful and confident, it’s important to disclose the truth. Say it and own it if you do get[ a cosmetic procedure ]. “

And for anyone looking for a way to feeling more self-confident without leading for the purposes of the knife, Ho indicates shifting your focus from how you look to what you can do: “What realise me confident is when I’m working on something and get better and better at it…. It’s being able to practice and refine a skill that improves that self-confident feeling.”

Ho also recommends making a similar mental transformation when it comes to your fitness. Rather than targeting a number on the scale or a specific physical change( say, a six-pack ), choose fortitude and tenacity objectives, such as holding a plank for a full hour, for example, or beating your 3-mile PR. You’ll be more likely to reach your goals, she does. “Plus it obligates the expedition more recreation, too.”

The post Bikini competitor find pushed to get silicone implant in order to triumphs appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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[katerina-delgado]

Plastic Knife Escapades → Alicia and Katerina

Tagging: Alicia Keller and Katerina Delgado Location: Some random halls within the Institute Time: Late afternoon, perhaps. Notes: Alicia and Katerina play "who can upset the guards best?". Etc.:

They had chosen their weapons, their watches were synchronized, and the rules had been set out. You could touch, yell, poke, prod, cry, scream, scratch, anything, to yourself and to the guard - as long as you used your better judgement. After all, neither of the girls wanted to get carted off to solitary confinement. But they did want to have a bit of fun, so it was going to be a fine, fine line that they traveled.

Katerina put her hands on her hips. "Are we ready to do this, 'Licia?" she asked, grinning widely. It was gonna be great, this little "friendly competition" that they were going to be engaging in. Whoever could get the most guards to move and touch them within five minutes would be the champion, even though it had been decided that there was no prize, besides bragging rights to being the best at bothering the guards. Katerina giggled. "Let's shake on it, and then we'll go on the first second of the first minute. If you're not back here by five minutes and thirty seconds, you lose. Do you have the mark to make the tally marks on your arm?" She couldn't help but make sure that Alicia had everything - it was a habit to check on her by now. "Okay, okay, let's shake!"

#Plastic Knife Escapades #p:alicia #para