#he said i have to have a mustache though to top luca

[longlivebatart]

Ter Brugghen's Mars Asleep

Welcome to Long Live Bat Art, the podcast for art lovers who don’t see art as much as they want to. My name is Sydney and thank you for taking this slow tour through an art gallery with a casual art lover. Today, I’ll be talking about Mars Asleep by Hendrick ter Brugghen. I hope you enjoy. 

Hendrick ter Brugghen’s life is shrouded in mystery. He was born around 1588 in maybe Deventer in the Netherlands. Ter Brugghen studied under Abraham Bloemaert, who we will cover later this season, in Utrecht in the early 1590s. 

He may have met Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio in Rome in 1604 because when ter Brugghen came back to the Netherlands, art historians can see Caravaggio’s influence. So if he didn’t meet the man himself, he definitely came into contact with his work. He also might have met Peter Paul Rubens. Other Italian artists that influenced ter Brugghen were Annibale Carracci, Domenichino- whose real name was Domenico Zampieri but was mostly called by his nickname because of his short height- and Guido Reni, who were all Baroque artists. The technique of lighting called chiaroscuro is prevalent after this time. Chiaroscuro is a fancy term for lighting and shading. 

When ter Brugghen returned to Utrecht in late 1614, he worked with Gerard van Honthorst, who was a fellow Dutch follower of Caravaggio, known colloquially as the Dutch Caravaggisti. 

In 1616, ter Brugghen registered with Urecht’s St. Luke’s Guild, which was a painter’s guild. 

He painted Christ Crowned with Thorns in 1620 based on prints by Lucas van Leyden, who we will cover in a couple of episodes. It seems as though ter Brugghen used van Leyden’s work as a base because some of his countrymen saw him as being too Italianate in his work so ter Brugghen cleverly used an artist from his own country to temper these protests.

He and a few other Dutch painters- Thijman van Galen, Michiel van der Zande, Frans van Knibbergen, Dirck van Baburen, and Gerard van Hornthorst- seemed to have been cavorting around Italy around the same time. Ter Brugghen and van Baburen seemed to be close when they returned to Holland because van Baburen’s themes and style creeped in, especially in the early 1620s. 

Ter Brugghen died on November 1st, 1629, possibly because of the plague. 

The little we do know about ter Brugghen is mostly because of his son, Richard. Richard found a letter from Adriaen van der Werff, another painter, that read that van der Werff appreciated ter Brugghen’s work. Richard presented this letter and four paintings his father had done of the Evangelists to be hung in Deventer’s town square as a memorial to his father. On the memorial, it claims in Dutch that when Rubens traveled through the Netherlands and arrived in Utrecht around 1627 he said he saw only one artist whose work impressed him- ter Brugghen.

It’s mainly because of this letter and memorial that interest in his father was drummed up again and more art historians started looking into this artist. 

Now the painting.

A man is asleep, his head propped up on his hand and his elbow on a small circular table. His skin is pockmarked and rough, and he has a light brown beard and mustache. The mustache is short and the beard only extends slightly past his chin. He looks peaceful, for the Roman god of war.

He’s wearing polished metal armor- a breastplate, arm guards, and a helmet. The helmet has a large white feather along the entire top, anchored at the back and flowing towards the front. The fibers of the feather- they’re fine. They pick up the light, which is coming from directly overhead. It casts a shadow on the left side of Mars’s face. The helmet has rivets along the brim and a slim band going from the front of his forehead to the feather. There’s an oval design on the side facing the viewer of the painting. There are smaller designs in the oval, but they’re so fine I can’t see them. The helmet is slightly battered, but still retains its shine and decoration. The helmet casts a shadow along the top part of Mars’s face, right over his eyes. Very convenient for a nap. 

He has a tight coif under the helmet, protecting the sides of his head and his neck. It leads to the breastplate. It is made of two curved decorative pieces over the main body of the armor. The decorations on the front of the shoulders are curls, almost like ferns or more feathers. More towards the center of his chest are designs that look like the spade in a deck of cards. Now that I’m looking more closely, I think what I initially took as an oval on his helmet might be another spade.

Mars’s left arm is still holding his sword, though it’s lax in his lap. His arm armor is banded on the upper part of his arm, halfway up his bicep. At his elbow is another spade design. There’s a slim band of fine design going from his elbow to his wrist. The same design is on the underside of his other arm, straight down his chest, and from the midpoint of the curl design diagonally to meet the center design at the bottom of the armor. Again- so fine I can’t tell what it is. The armor is also battered, like it’s been struck multiple times by a ball peen hammer. Mars is wearing a red cloth around his lower half that’s gathered above his knees. The folds are realistic. They’re more draped than folded, actually. The clothing has a black stripe down the side, from the hip to the side of the knee. His knees and lower legs are exposed, though you can’t see much below his knees. The hilt of his sword has multiple curled metal arms wrapping around above the grip. 

At another second look, what I took for a table originally now looks more like a drum- there are wooden sticks near Mars’s elbow. Most likely a drum of war. 

Now for my thoughts.

The shine off Mars’s armor is incredible, as is the softness of the white feather. The detailing in the armor, I feel like I would have to practically press my nose against the painting to see what they are, but I doubt the museum would let me do that. The fact I had to look twice at both the drum I thought was a table and the detail on his helmet means that it’s worth it to examine art for a while. And not just art, either. If you can, I recommend looking at anything with a closer eye. First impressions aren’t always right, though you probably already know that. Never be afraid to admit when you’re wrong- it’s a skill everybody needs to practice. I’ve been guilty of doubling down on ideas I now regret. Digging my heels in stubbornly when four words and a contraction would have helped- ‘I’m sorry, I was wrong.’

Admitting fault in yourself is never simple or easy, but no one is perfect. Depending on your religion, your deity might not even be perfect. Romans certainly didn’t think their deities were perfect- they argued, they fought, they made mistakes. And they rarely admitted fault. So learn to do it, and you’ll be better for it.

I always liked Greek mythology more than Roman. That may just be because I was exposed to Greek first, so I’m biased. But Mars is an interesting god. He’s the god of war, yes. But also of death and the protector of the Caesars. 

His Greek equivalent, Ares- he’s less nuanced. Ares wasn’t worshiped as widely as Mars was because he was more or less seen as the hated brutality of war and conquest. Even his own parents weren’t particularly fond of him. But he had children by Aphrodite, goddess of love, who was married to Hephaestus, the god of fire and the forge. 

But I love Greek mythology because the gods were so, for lack of a better word, human. The people of the past didn’t always see their God or gods as untouchable, perfect figures. The Greeks and Romans especially saw their gods as just like them- they ate and played and argued and slept. Instead of the Judeo-Christian belief of humans being made in God’s image, the Greeks and Romans instead put their own habits and needs on the gods. I think that made the gods more approachable and made the people more relaxed about talking and praying to them. 

So this is the challenge for this episode- think of whatever deity or deities you believe in as a friend. Not an authority figure, not the Almighty. A friend. And if you don’t believe in any deity, try to personify whatever you hold dearest but might be a little afraid of. Maybe it’s science, maybe it’s math, maybe it could even be a person you really trust. But here’s a secret- in my experience, people aren’t ever as scary as they seem. Whether they’re a politician, a celebrity, or one of those people all over social media, there’s a lot more in common between you than you think. And for the religious people, try to remember that when you’re making the deity you believe in a friend. Make common interests- even if that common interest is yourself and your well being. Because if you find that common interest, you’ll find it a lot easier to relate to the person you’re pretending these ideals are. And once you do that, you might find it a bit more comforting when you believe in whatever you do. And I’ve always firmly believed that prayer should be comforting, as all aspects of religion should be. Not so much fire and brimstone, but the comfort that someone loves you dearly and truly wants what’s best for you. I think most people have forgotten that, and it’s something I think we should bring back. Comfort is something we could all use more of in our lives, and it’s the comfort we bring ourselves that can be the most powerful. 

If you liked this episode of Long Live Bat Art, please consider telling a friend and reviewing to help the podcast grow. A link to the transcript of this episode is available in the show notes below. And you can follow me on Twitter at Long Live Bat Art and tumblr at tumblr dot com forward slash Long Live Bat Art. That’s Long Live B-A-T Art. Thank you for listening to this episode, and I will see you in two weeks.

#episode transcripts

[simgerale]

CHAPTER EIGHT ; 2/3

TRANSCRIPT:

antoin: Unlike you, my unappreciative brother, someone has finally decided to marry.

luca: Sheri, what—

sheridan: Do not look at me!!

a: No, it is not anyone you know... mostly. You might remember meeting the Empress of Volais as a child, although that was so long ago that I doubt—

l: Of course I remember, Antoin. That was the last good summer before the war.

a: Well, her majesty sent out ball invitations to every region—except ours, of course—for eligible bachelors. It is rather interesting that she make this move... right before the peace treaty ends.

l: You think she is trying to gain another ally.

a: And will be successful. I would like you and Sheridan to attend inconspicuously and identify who our future enemy will be.

s: Why send us when you have so many people at your disposal?

a: Because it is better than Luca wallowing around my palace all day. I am tired of hearing the echo of noble ladies crying when he dismisses them.

l: Then stop telling noble ladies that I am interested, brother!

s: [chuckles quietly]

#regal #ts4 story #luca by plasma jane #sheridan by plunni #and i made his brother by doing genetics mwahaha #he looks SCARILY similar.. just different eye colors + tooth gap + a little bit different nose #just a year older and yet... being a monarch really ages you huh #and that beard style is just popular in eden okay 😔 #he said i have to have a mustache though to top luca #OKAY okay... so if you noticed how casual they all talk #it's because they grew up together. three amigos (even though antoin was always kinda a jerk) #and sheri is the nickname she lets those closest to her call her by #p.s. sorry it's so yellow i forgot to change the lighting settings on the house smh #but not all is what it seems..... 👀

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E2; Chapter Two, The Mall Rats - [Pt. 4 - FINAL]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Baffled with Mike's sudden behavior, El seeks out Y/n and Max for advice while Will struggles to get through to Mike and Lucas. Billy takes his co-worker on a field trip, and Steve and Dustin enlist a helpful ally in their top-secret mission.

⚠️: s3 mike wheeler, y/n and mike angst. more google translate. the reader eating ice cream [if you're lactose intolerant, it's dairy-free xp], mama steve loving and worrying about his children, his little henderson ducklings especially 🥰 *heavy sigh* oh yeah, kidnapping and more possible allegory to r*pe :( as usual, a marker will be placed but it plays till the end of the chapter so you only need one

🔑: y/f/o = your favorite [ice cream] order

📝: idk if the tip seems small or not but either way keep in mind this was the eighties so inflation hadn't gotten quite as bad yet. As far as the Mike stuff, I know he wasn't being possessive, he was just worried she would get caught and taken away or worse but also he handled it badly, and then everything else in this chapter just kinda rode that angsty bad decision train outta here lmao.

|| 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

"если действовать осторожно... неделя длинная. серебряный--"

Robin pauses her pacing momentarily to point at the tape Dustin has in his hands.

"Wait, that last part, just one more time,"

The sounds of the wires hissing as they rewind fill Robin's thoughtful silence.

"если действовать осторожно... неделя--"

"Okay, that word!" She says, and Dustin quickly presses pause. "Um... it's pronounced... 'dly-nna-ya.'"

"'Dly-nna-ya'" Dustin repeats, nodding excitedly.

"Which is spelled—"

"-D... D, D, D..." Dustin mutters, springing up from his seat, scurrying towards the whiteboard as Robin grabs the book. "The— The chair! The chair-looking thingy!" He says, pointing to the Russian 'д'.

"Yeah, okay," Robin mutters excitedly, hurriedly scribbling into their notes.

The glass partition swings open with a loud clang alerting Steve at the counter.

"We've got our first sentence,"

"Oh, seriously?" He asks, turning around with two orders in his hands.

"Yeah," Robin nods. She drops her voice into a lower pitch and imitates a Russian accent. "The veek is longh,"

Steve's face falls. "Well, that's thrilling,"

"I know, but," she shrugs. "Progress."

With that, she retreats into the window and slides the door close leaving Steve to return to his ice cream slinging duties.

"Okay, here you go. You got uh, a vanilla with sprinkles and extra whipped cream and one y/f/o,"

Steve hands off the rest of the orders to El and Y/n who gladly take them. Max stood next to them, digging into the order she had already been handed. She only comes up to say 'thanks' in near sync with her friends.

"Wait a second," he says, a thoughtful look falling over his face as he frowns at El. "Are even allowed to be here?"

The girls freeze, once again pausing to share a knowing look with growing ice cream-mustached smiles and giggle. In a hurry, the three of them scurry for the door. Y/n nearly makes it before coming to a skidding halt that leaves her bouncing on one foot as she catches her balance. She runs back to the counter with a mischievous smile and a dollar in hand.

Steve watches confused as she tucks the dollar away in the tip jar, and sends him what he finds to be a childish wink.

"Keep this quiet?" She asks, and he almost laughs. But he could tell she was all too serious. "Also this is your tip! Thanks, Steve,"

Steve watches utterly baffled as she turns on her heel and makes a break for the girls waiting just outside and around the corner.

"Okay?" He says, beginning to trail off. "Wasn't gonna tell anyone anyway?"

She's nearly out the door when he realizes what her being here means. He hopes it's not too late to call after her.

"Hey, wait a sec!"

Thankfully, she hears him and turns back around. He motions her forward and while confused, she ultimately complies.

"Hey, uh, does Dustin know you're here?"

Y/n tilts her head as she thinks about it then shrugs.

"I'm not sure, why?" She asks, taking a lick of her ice cream.

Steve hooks a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the window but he pauses when he realizes it's better she doesn't know what he's doing here. He quickly plays it off and plants both hands on the counter to lean against it.

"I don't, uh— It's just that he came by earlier and he seemed pretty down about last night,"

Y/n's shoulders slumped immediately, her eyes widening a little.

"He did?" She winced, nibbling nervously on her lip as she looked guiltily at her ice cream. And in doing so, any budding feeling of anger and protectiveness vanishes in Steve. "It's just, he wasn't there when I left and I assumed he went with the guys to Mike's."

With the same, guilty look in her eyes, Y/n glanced over her shoulder at her waiting friends and Steve instantly regretted bringing it up. He sighs, shaking his head.

"Look, it's—"

"If he comes back, will you tell him I'm sorry?" She laughed a little, very sheepishly. "That we can guilt Mom off the TV again so we can a have a monster movie night like we used to, or something?"

In that moment Steve decides not to be honest with her and tell her he's probably still too upset for that, he just doesn't have to heart to. Nor does Steve have the guts to say it wouldn't matter anyway, that he's right in the back room decoding a top-secret Russian communication. So instead, he forces his lips into a firm line that was supposed to be a smile and nods.

"Sure thing, kid,"

She perks a little. "Thanks, Steve. I'll see ya later,"

"Alright, take care," he straightens from the counter, watching as she retreats back out of the shop. He sighs again, almost hating how soft and protective he's become, and calls after her, nodding discretely in El's direction. It all comes out in the form of annoyance, though, naturally. "And don't be stupid, alright?"

Y/n smiles in response and returns to her friends. Together, the three of them disappear into the crowd.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

One of many sets of double doors swing open as Y/n, El, and Max step back out into the sunlight.

Despite their every desires to keep their special day at the mall going, the three girls knew the bus back into town was leaving shortly. Y/n takes another quick and frantic lick of her fastly melting ice cream as Max turns to El and gestures to her strawberry ice cream cone.

"Wanna trade?"

El responds with a giggle and eagerly trades off her vanilla cone for strawberry.

"No... fair," Y/n grumbles, nearly attacking her ice cream as it turns to a puddle before her eyes. She spares only a single second glare enviously at their still freshly frozen cones while she has spent between licks.

"You're not," lick. "making your," lick. "ice cr━ shit!" two licks. "melt."

The girls giggle again, wholeheartedly amused by the sight before them.

"Shut up," another lick.

"That's ridiculous," came a nearby, all too familiar whine. "Why can't I just—"

Max's face falls into a glower, pulling Y/n and El into a stop next to her. "Oh, you gotta be shitting me."

Just across the concrete entrance, fumbling to separate their bikes from the bike stands were Mike, Lucas, and Will.

Forgetting her melting ice cream momentarily, Y/n takes a moment to sigh at the ground when she realizes whatever is about to pass, will be far from good.

"—haven't got that much," Lucas says.

"Okay, what if we split it?"

"Split it with what? Does that even make sense?"

Two of the three boys continue to bicker, completely unaware of the three angry figures making their way towards them. More specifically, two angry figures and one slightly disgusted one who tosses out her nearly finished ice cream cone and the napkin she used to wipe her hands off with in the trash cans they all pass.

"Isn't this a nice surprise?" Max asks, plastering on a smirk as the three boys and their bikes come to a halt before them.

Mike's face pales when he realizes Max had caught him, and even more so when he realizes El is with her. His bike crashes to the ground, forgotten as he gapes at her.

"What are you doing here?"

"Shopping." She answers matter-of-factly, her icy stare never once wavering.

"This is her new style," Max says, eyeing him carefully. "What do you think?"

"What's wrong with you?" He spits, gesturing to El. "You know she's not allowed to be here."

"What is she, your little pet?" Max fires back.

"Yeah. Am I your pet?" El asks.

"What? No!"

"Mike, she needed this," Y/n says. "Besides, you lied to her! What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here either."

Mike finally turns his wild gaze to Y/n, utterly baffled at the stance she was taking.

"Are you kidding me?" He gawks, ignoring her eye roll. "You of all people should know about keeping her a secret,"

Y/n hotly takes a threatening step forward. "Meaning what?"

"Meaning you would know, you're good at hiding her,"

Everyone inched closer, apart from El who was seething at Mike. Y/n, on the other hand, scoffs loudly, throwing her arms up in frustration.

"You said you were over that!"

"Yeah, well, guess I'm not,"

She looked around quickly, her voice falling into a whispered hiss. "What, so I should be locked up all day, too?"

"Maybe!" Mike said, instantly feeling guilty.

"Mike!" Will snaps, stepping forward another few inches. And so did El, her shoulder subconsciously shielding Y/n. Shielding her from, Mike, or Mike from her, she wasn't sure.

But she knew she was livid. And hurt.

Mike sighs, putting his face into his hands and running them tiredly over his face.

"I'm sorry, that was over the line," he sighs, sounding embarrassed.

"-You're damn right it was," Y/n snapped.

"But that doesn't change the fact that she really can't be here," he corrects himself, looking El in the eye carefully. "You can't be here. It's not safe,"

"I can take care of myself," El says.

"I mean," Mike sighs again, frustrated as he trips over his own words. "you and a lot of other people could be in danger if anybody starts asking questions. I just care about you, alright? And I don't want anything to happen to you, not again,"

El shakes her head, all visible anger melting away leaving only sadness in its wake.

"Then why do you treat me like garbage?"

"What?"

"You said Nana was sick,"

The panic returns to his eyes, and he and Lucas desperately try to cover their tracks.

From over their shoulder, Y/n meets eyes with an exasperated Will, and the couple shares a look and tired shake of the head.

"She is. She is sick!"

"Yeah, sick— she's sick," Lucas nods. "She's super sick. And that's why we're here, actually."

Y/n silently meets Will's eye again and makes out the subtle firm line he presses his lips into and the small shake of his head 'no'.

Oblivious to Will, the two continue.

"Yeah, w-we're shopping! Not for us, but for her, for Nana,"

"For Nana."

"Also," Mike sighs, giving El an earnest look. "we're here to get a gift for you. It's just, we couldn't find anything that suited you and I only have, like, $3.50, so it's hard."

"-super hard." Lucas sighs, giving an honest, apologetic look to all three of them. "It's— It's expensive,"

"Speaking of," came Will's, softened voice. "Here ya go. Sorry it's not real,"

He takes a step forward and sheepishly offers the small goodie bag to Y/n. Everyone watches confused and almost a little intrigued as Y/n takes it curiously. Quickly, she dives her gaze and hand into the baggie and smiles as she pulls out the small y/f/f candy ring.

"Oh, a ring pop?" She flashes Will a beaming smile as she rips open the package and slips it on her finger. "Thanks, Will,"

He nods happily, completely relieved she was this happy to get one.

Y/n's smile drops instantly when she remembers what they're interrupting and she quiets, clearing her throat a little.

"Sorry," she mumbled, sending an especially sorry look to El as her hand graces her shoulders in a gentle apology.

El sends her a weak smile, eyes falling back down. Sadly, she looks to her ice cream and then deeply into Mike's eyes as the day's events all come crashing down on her. And it's with great disappointment she realizes what has hurt her, and what hasn't.

She shakes her head softly, the disappointment evident on her face now more than ever.

"You lie," she says finally, all the more saddened to see Mike squirm under her gaze, only confirming her words. El shakes her head again. "Why do you lie?"

She waits and waits and when Mike can't give an answer, the screech of the bus's tires in the distance tells her a decision must be made. And it's with a seething glare, El makes up her mind.

Everyone watches carefully in silence as she takes three tantalizing steps until she's staring up at Mike. He's frozen, as is everyone else as he fears her next words. And he has every reason to.

"I dump your ass."

Y/n's eyes find Will's once again, this time, regret clouding them when she realizes. Tonight was meant to be spent at his house, dinner with him, Jonathan, and Joyce at least but it seems the day had different plans in mind. She stood rooted to the spot, her lips parted in shock as she processed what had just happened.

She detected sadness in Will's eyes, as she was used she had in her own but reality came crashing down, breaking her from her spell.

"I'm sorry," she sputters, more so to Will than Mike and Lucas. "I didn't think she would," she breathes.

"What?" Mike's widened eyes land on her, flickering between her and El's retreating figure. "Did you tell her to do this?"

"Of course not!" She said, eyes darting between him and Lucas sympathetically. "But it's still their decision. I'm sorry. I am,"

"Y/n! You coming?"

Y/n looked over her shoulder to find El and Max moving up the line, nearly ready to board. From there, El looked between Y/n and Mike, as if she were worried Mike would take it out on Y/n more. Y/n gave her friend a weak, reassuring smile and turned back to the guys.

Will specifically.

"I'm sorry," she said to Will, beginning to back away even though she didn't really want to leave him. "But I think I need to be with them right now. Is it okay if we take a rain check?"

Will smiled, nodding and she felt a fresh wave of guilt. She could have sworn she saw a hint of sadness but if it was ever there, he had buried it for her sake.

In a spur of the moment, she ran forward and planted a kiss on his lips before pulling back. She shot Lucas and Mike a lingering look, not really knowing what to feel for them in the moment.

And then she took off.

The three friends stood baffled, reeling from how much everything had changed so quickly. Their legs kicked into gear and followed the crowds to the bus but the doors had just swung closed. From where they stood at the curb, they could make out three familiar lingering silhouettes from behind the tinted windows, all piling in together.

Max had nabbed the window seat, El seating herself next to her. It was only a matter of moments before Y/n had joined them, plopping herself in the seat directly behind them. She peeked out over the low backs of their seats, wedged right in between them with a breathless look.

For just that moment, the three best friends sat there in stunned silence before breaking into a breathless laugh.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The sun had set behind even the lowest of valleys, bathing the town in a pale glow and unforgiving chill that couldn't be quenched even on the hottest days of summer. Starcourt mall was alive in every way but one; the hum of the neon lights reached every corner, but the mall had long since closed leaving it a beautiful, vibrant wasteland.

The only remaining occupants were tucked away in the backroom of Scoops Ahoy, standing before a whiteboard facing the daring truth they had worked so hard to uncover. In perfect sync, they read the words aloud with confusion muddling their brains and exhaustion filling their systems.

"The week is long, the silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west."

Steve, Robin, and Dustin stand before the translation willing something to make sense. But all they were left with when they turned in for the night, closing the grated metal gate that went with closing up shop was utter bafflement.

"I mean, it just..." Steve sighs into the ground, the keys in his hand turning in the lock. "It just can't be right."

"It's right," Robin assures. When Steve returns to his feet the three of them begin their lazy journey to the exit.

"Honestly, I think this is great news," Dustin shrugs.

"How is this great news?" Steve chuckles bitterly. I mean, so much for being American heroes. It's total nonsense."

"It's not nonsense. It's too specific. It has to be a code."

Steve's face screws up into a puzzled pout. "What do you mean, a code?"

"Like a super-secret spy code,"

"That's a total stretch,"

"I don't know, is it?" Robin scoffs.

"You're buying into this?"

"Listen, just for kicks, let's entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What'd you think they were gonna say, 'Fire the warhead at noon'?"

"Exactly," Dustin gestures, his gaze returning up to Steve to see the gears spinning in his head.

"And my translation is correct," Robin assures. "I know that for sure, so... 'The silver cat feeds'. Why would anyone talk like that unless they're trying to mask the true meaning of their message?"

"Exactly!"

"And why would anyone mask the true meaning of their message unless the true meaning of their message was somehow sensitive?"

By now, Dustin was rubbing his triumphant smirk in Steve's face. "Exactly."

"So I guess that confirms your suspicion," Robin says, looking to Dustin who remains triumphant.

"Evil Russians,"

Robin wears a tired smile as she looks back at Steve with a dry chuckle. "I can't believe I'm about to agree with this strange child, but, yeah, totally evil Russians."

"So how do we crack it?" Dustin asks, flashing his charming toothless grin her way.

"Well, I guess we translate the rest and hopefully a pattern emerges."

"A pattern. Right, like maybe 'silver cat' is a meeting place?"

"Or a person."

"Or a weapon,"

"It's probably gonna take a super genius to track it, but..." Robin trails off when she notices she is one dingus short. "Where's Steve?"

The new duo spin on their heels where they spot their missing friend a few yards down. He had a frown screwed onto his face as he stood in front of one of the many kiddie rides, his hands diving into his pockets no doubt searching for coins. Sure enough, the clinking of coins rattling together as he purs them out in his palm confirms their suspicions.

"Hey, Steve," Robin calls, her empty hand swinging limply out in a puzzled gesture. "What are you doing?"

"Uh, it's," Steve doesn't bother answering her question and the only time he picks his eyes up off his hands is to check the mechanical horse for its cost. "a quarter. I need--" he mumbles to himself, looking hopefully to his friends. "Do you have a quarter?"

Despite her confusion, Robin lets out a chuckle, and she and Dustin quickly shuffle over to Steve's side. "Sure you're tall enough for that ride?"

"Quarter!" He yells, jumping forward to catch the coin Robin flipped out for him.

He catches it with a clumsy spin and drops his knees to insert it into the ride. They watch was Steve remains huddled on the ground, a funny look on his face as the ride begins. Robin can't resist poking fun, and does with little strain on her voice to be heard over the music.

"You need help getting up, little Stevie?"

"Shh-shh! Shh!" Steve snaps, gesturing to the galloping horse. More specifically the music it plays. "Would you two just shut up and listen?"

Robin and Dustin are almost shocked at his seriousness, but the smile remains on Dustin's face from Robin's comment. That is until it eventually slips off his face when he realizes why the familiar tune being played before them was so familiar.

"Holy shit," he breathes, locking eyes with a grave-looking Steve. Dustin looks to Robin, helping her to connect the dots as he begins shedding his backpack from his shoulders. "The music,"

He had heard it all day. They all had while translating the tape. The very tune Steve had been complaining so much about.

"The music!" Dustin cries again, dropping to his knees as he desperately fishes his bag for the tape.

How had he not recognized it? Y/n and him used to ride the Indiana Flyer at the fair as soon as they were old enough. And then the caricell, over and over every year until they were old enough to ride the bigger rides. And even then, the tune carried out across the Fun Fair where it could be heard from as far as the top of the Ferris wheel. The two of them would drag their mother every year. It was the sound of his childhood.

Dustin presses play on the tape, and as he gazes up at Robin, silently pleading for the dots to connect the sound of the song on the tape is louder than Russian for the first time all day.

But Robin only shrugs between them.

"I don't understand,"

"It's the exact same song on the recording,"

"Maybe they have horses like this in Russia?"

"The 'Indiana Flyer'? I don't..." Steve shakes his head. The look on his face made clear he wished he was wrong. He looked... unsettled. "I don't think so. This code, it... it didn’t come from Russia."

And they that unease. They could feel it settling into their chests, making their hearts beat a little faster and their stomach twisting up into knots at what he said next.

"It came from here."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The roads are empty, even still. Crickets sing into the night and the steady breeze taking itself through Hawkins back roads are momentarily swept up with the leaves when a lone Chevrolet Camaro pulls into Brimborne. The lot remained abandoned, seemingly, other than the figure stepping out of the car, with sweat on his brow.

The summer sun had set hours ago, taking the searing heat with it. But the humidity that clung to the air felt to be Billy like he was sitting far too close to an open fire. But still, he lumbers to the trunk where the reason for his being here lies.

The latch opens with a loud clunk, and the trunk lid opens slowly. His eyes find the contents immediately, as does the murky light from the trunk bulb onto his face.

She was still unconscious.

A foreign voice in his brain — the one who had brought them both here, the one to have put here — spoke up again without permission. And yet, it didn't exactly speak in words, but feelings. And all that shot to the surface was one thing — one word.

Good.

It was Billy who couldn't stop thinking about it. What he had done. The small part of him that fought.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■]

- 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

Among the pain, Billy feels tears building up inside him when he realizes what that tug in his gut is ordering him to do. He can also feel it happening again. He can feel himself slipping away, just as he had when he fled for the showers. But this time he fought it.

God, he fought it so hard.

But it wasn't enough.

His nails dug into the flesh of his knees that he had been clutching so tightly to his chest. That and the tears racing down his cheeks now blending with the water were the last things to happen that were truly Billy's doing.

"Billy, are you okay—?"

The last thing Billy sees before he loses control is his hand lunging for Heather's throat. His iron grip locks her in a chokehold and her hands fly to his. Desperately she claws at his hands, her nails raking into his skin but he never flinches. She feels her feet leave the ground, her toes grazing the tile floor as he picks her up and pins her to the stall doors.

Her widened, fearful eyes look deep into his but all she finds as he rips the curtain closed is the lack of human emotion within him. His eyes were hollow, the whites of his eyes running black and they are the last thing she sees before unconsciousness overtakes her.

- 𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

She's limp in his arms as he carries her throughout the darkness of Brimborne whose only source of light is moonlight spilling through the dirtied glass window panes hanging high above. He walks with all the time in the world, his eyes dead set on the last place Billy ever wanted to see again. The only sound to be heard within miles was the scuffle of his rubber soles scraping against the dirt and leaves sprinkled across the concrete.

The scratchy thumps of his boots turn to metal echoes as he disappears down the darkened stairwell. From there, inky blackness like the sludge coursing through his veins is all that can be seen. Little moonlight has survived the journey through the grated floor, but there was enough to illuminate Heather's body that he places onto the cement floor.

Soft, discomforted groans break through the duct tape over her mouth as she comes to. She rolls onto her back, confused as to why she feels pain in her head and cement digging into her spine.

But everything she needs to know becomes all too clear almost instantly when she sees Billy's hollowed eyes staring down at her from where he's perched above her. Panic sets in, and as she realizes all too late why she is unable to move her hands or feet. That doesn't stop Heather from trying as she fights against the restraints, eager to use her dried-out voice.

Her breath is knocked loose when Billy throws her back into the ground after she managed to sit up even an inch.

He keeps a small majority of his weight on her shoulders as he leans in close, his breath on her ear.

"Don't be afraid. It'll be over soon."

Tears tickle her temple when they escape her eyes. She prays for many things, but she'll even settle for the small possibility the sweat collecting on her skin is enough to weaken the tape on her mouth. Then maybe, just maybe she can scream for help.

"Just stay very still."

This specific hope fizzles away, drowning in her own confusion when, without moving his head, he looks to her and slowly peels the tape off of her lips.

She's too shocked to do anything. Too afraid. But she wasn't prepared to let that stop her. Heather was going to do something, she had to. She would.

But that all died when Billy suddenly stood up, looking almost disinterested in her as an eery, unnatural sound reverberates throughout the darkness before her. Slowly, her head turns to face the dark abyss when she catches movement out of the corner of her eye.

His face is as hard as stone though his eyes hold a flicker of struggle and pain when it all unfolds. Heather may be the only one in binding, but she is not the only one who is trapped. There is nothing at all Billy can do but watch as the large and bloodied mass of flesh stomps forward from the shadows, ready to feast.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

68 Ways To Donate in Support Of Asian Communities - [link]

FSFAPV Justice: "community family coalition that offers help and justice to families in the Twin Cities and nationwide that have lost loved ones to police violence" - [link]

30 Organizations That Are Boosting African American Educational Achievement - [link]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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#stranger things #stranger things 3 #cosmic #cosmic 3 #will byers x reader #will byers x fem!reader #y/n henderson #will byers #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler #eleven #el hopper #max mayfield #robin buckley #steve harrington #billy hargrove #heather holloway #the mind flayer #reader insert #x reader #will x reader #will byers fic #st fic #stranger things x reader #the mall rats #3x02 #st 3x02 #st

[adarafaelbarba]

Burns

Pairing: Sonny Carisi x Wife!Reader

Fandom: Law and Order SVU

Requested: Yes

Request: «Cause you love me, may I please have some Sonny sexy mustache time with the wifey….pretty please throw in some thigh kisses 😍 yum yum» - @itsjustmyfantasyroom​

Warning: Fluffy family stuff. But also a smut. Do NOT read if you’re under the age of 18! Oral (female receiving). 

A/N: This is for my Sonnyverse ( which I’ve created with the lovely @sweetcannolicarisi​ )

Sonnyverse masterlist

Dominick Gabriel: 6 years.

Matteo Lucas: 4 years.

Giovanni Elijah: 2 years.

Angelina Maria: 6 months.

One of the best ideas Sonny had in years was growing out his mustache, well, he grew out a full beard and mustache while he was off work in the running up to your fourth child, and first daughter. The boys loved to see their dad sporting a full face of hair. And your baby girl seemed to love it too.

The only annoying bit was when he decided to shave the beard. You had begged him to keep it, but he had simply replied that it would not look good with the uniform, «I can keep the mustache, but the beard has to go doll», he had said.

You had been pouting the entire day, even the kids started to notice. «Mama, why are you sad?» Giovanni asked, crawling onto your lap as you sat on the couch. Looking at your youngest son you gave him a small smile and cuddled him. «Your dad removed his beard this morning before going to work. So he’ll be looking a little different when he comes home», you explained, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

«Daddy did what?!» Dominick, Sonny’s carbon copy and your eldest son, exclaimed, walking in being followed by your mother and your middle son, Matteo. «Daddy cut his beard», you explained, getting up to hug your mother and your sons. «Hey ma», you murmured.

«Why?» Giovanni asked, sucking his thumb, a habit you and Sonny had tried to get him off. «Well. Daddy didn’t think it would look good with the uniform», you said.

«That’s silly», Dominick commented, which made you and your mother laugh. «It is silly. We should tell him that when he comes home. But remember, he’ll look a little different when he does get here, so there’s no need to be scared okay?» you said looking at the three boys. «Okay», they all agreed.

…

You had been bouncing Angie that morning, trying to get her to sleep a little longer, so she had seen him get a shave, even if she didn’t understand what was going on.

So when Sonny got home that afternoon the little girl squealed and bounced in your arms waiting for cuddles. «Hey princess! Did you miss me?» he murmured, taking her off your hands. «Hey doll», he added. «Hey», you replied, giving him a quick kiss. «How was work?» It was a question you always asked him, but it gave you a small insight to what his day was like, where he could choose how much he shared, and he was often picky when the kids were around. «It was good. Got enough to take it to trial», he murmured, trying to occupy the attention of your daughter.

«Daddy why did you shave your beard?» Matteo asked, looking at his dad. «Work wouldn’t allow it how it looked», Sonny replied, ruffling his second oldest son’s hair.

«But we liked the beard. It made you look cool», Dominick noted. «Did you? I’m sorry bud.» It made your heart soar to see how well Sonny was with the kids. Always hands on with them when he was home. The boys absolutely idolized their father, Matteo and Giovanni saying they wanted to be cops just like him when they grew up which just made you chuckle. Those two were troublemakers for sure, so you always joked that troublemakers didn’t become cops, in which your husband replied with «They become firefighters», which was a little jab to your older brother who was a firefighter in Chicago.

…

You had finally managed to get all four of the kids to sleep when you plopped down on the bed, yawning. «Even with help from Ma, and whenever you get time, I’m so tired in the evenings», you murmured, looking at your husband, «I wouldn’t change it for the world though, I love them.» You didn’t even want to begin thinking about a life without the kids, or without Sonny. To you, the best decision you had made was kissing Sonny that summer night after you graduated.

«I wish I could be home more, but between work and night classes, there’s not enough time.» He sighed, looking at you. «It’ll all be worth it when you pass the bar, babe», you noted, taking his hands in yours.

He nodded slowly, before pulling you in for a kiss. «You’re too good for me doll», he murmured, pulling you to straddle his lap. «Well, I did marry you didn’t I?» you mused, suppressing an oncoming giggle as the mustache tickled your neck. «That you did, and I’ll never thank my lucky star enough for bringing me you!» he exclaimed, kissing the exposed skin.

Pushing him to lay down, you were about to move down his body when he stopped you. «You told me how much you loved the scruff», he murmured, smirking. «Oh, so you were listening?» you retorted, raising an eyebrow. «Don’t be a smart ass, doll, it doesn’t suit you», he groaned, getting you on your back. «I thought you loved my ass.» That made him groan again.

You laid flat on your back, smiling cheekily up at him as he rolled his eyes at your comment. «I’ll fuck you later, if that’s what you want, but right now, I think I’ll show you that I can still make you feel good with my mouth», he growled, trailing kisses down your body slowly, making you whine. «Shhh, doll, you’ve got to be quiet», he murmured. Nodding your head you, bit down on your lip in anticipation from what was to come.

«Sonny please», you whined. «Please what doll?» He asked, but he knew what you wanted. «Please, I want your mouth.» Looking  at him, you ran your fingers through his hair. He absolutely loved when you did that, which was one of the reasons why you did it, to spur him on.

He let out a small groan and delved in, attaching his lips to your clit as he sucked the ball of nerves into his mouth. «Hmm. Feels so good Sonny», you mewled, biting your lip to stop the oncoming moan.

Entering one finger, then one more, Sonny looked at you, a smirk etched on his face. «Y-you’re enjoying this aren’t you?» You asked as he pumped his fingers inside you. «Oh I really am», he murmured, blowing on your clit before moving his lips back over the nerve. His mustache creating a burning scratch which you knew would stick for days, but you didn’t care.

Your orgasm was fast approaching at this point and you tried your best not to scream out in absolute ecstasy. «Shhh, doll. Fuck I can feel you clamp down on my fingers. You’re close aren’t you?» he murmured from in between your legs. «Yeah», you whimpered, tossing your head back.

Scratching his mustache over your clit while pumping his fingers into you drew you closer, and before you knew it, you were clamping your hand over your mouth to stop the oncoming moans.

Sonny lazily fingered you through your release before pulling his fingers out of you and plopping down on the bed next to you. «I will never get tired of that taste», he murmured, licking his fingers clean. «If you ever shave your mustache, I’m divorcing you», you said, trying to regain your breath. «Sure you will doll, sure you will.»

@detective-giggles​ @kriegsverlobte​ @meri-dawn​ @svu-ncis-criminalminds​ @storiesofsvu​ @the-hopeless-haze​ @thatesqcrush​ @beccabarba​ @dianilaws​ @rafivadafreddy​ @rafaheadcanons​ @incomplete-coincidence​ @cycat4077​ @caked-crusader​ @teamsladsandgents​ @prurientpuddlejumper​ @delia26​ 

#sonnyverse #sonny x reader #sonny carisi #detective carisi #detective sonny carisi #carisi x reader #dominick sonny carisi jr #ada sonny carisi #ada carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi imagine #sonny carisi one shot #sonny carisi smut #sonny carisi family #carisi family life #sonny carisi familyverse #sonny familyverse #sonny carisi family verse #requests are open

[sparkie96]

Age difference au, Leon wearing kimono since Simmons kidnap him

A groan escaped him as Leon woke up, holding his head in pain. After blinking a couple of times to adjust to the sudden brightness of the room, he sat up, looking down at his current state of dress, wondering why the hell it was so damn drafty. Why the hell was he in a kimono? Or was there another name for it? Considering it wasn’t the full get-up? He couldn’t think of the right word for it right now. Why pink, though? 

 Bright blue eyes looked around and took in his surroundings. This was neither his dorm nor Chris’s home...nor anywhere he had ever been before. Where the hell was he? What the hell had happened? The last thing he remembered was...he really needed to stop walking to and from places. Especially if he didn’t have someone with him. Christ, if his mother or Chris found out about this one this time, they were gonna put a GPS Tracker on him. 

 Though, if he was being honest, his mother probably would pull him from college and have him take online courses full-time and have Uncle Marvin and Uncle Kevin escort him everywhere. Or ask Chris to take him with him everywhere he goes or get him a job with the BSAA. 

 ...that last one didn’t sound too bad. Piers and Finn said that there was never a dull moment in the BSAA. And he would be working with Chris, so that would be even better. 

 But, he would have to worry about that later. Right now, he had to figure out just what the fuck was going on. Okay, so, step one in investigating; assess the “Crime Scene” or situation. Leon looked around at the unfamiliar room. 

It had white walls, there was an alcove in the left wall with a bronze statue of some sort. An angel? It was definitely a guy, but he wasn’t sure what the statue was due to the shadows. There was a fireplace in the wall across from him, with a large, ornate mantle and a marble looking hearth. On top of the mantle was a very expensive looking painting of a serpent devouring a lion. Odd...but maybe a clue? There was a table next to it, two wine glasses sat on top of it, as well as a set of fine china. There were also two chairs. Okay...not weird at all. On the other side of the fireplace, there was a desk underneath one of the windows. He noted that it was also snowing...which meant that he was still in DC...hopefully.

He then looked down at the floor, noticing that it was also marble, like the hearth in front of the fireplace. Above him was a very large chandelier, much like the ones one would see in a movie or a stereotypical rich person’s house. The lights were dimmed though. Leon woke up in a bed adorned with silk blankets and soft sheets. The pillows were soft and smelled odd, but not gross. More flowery or sweet. Perfume? Drugs? He hoped for the first one and not the latter. 

Overall, everything looked very expensive, so he was in the home of either a rich person, or someone with expensive taste, but who? 

What did he remember last? Leon recalled walking home from campus, having missed the bus. His jeep was in the shop because someone slashed his tires. Chris couldn’t drive him home because he had to stay late at work and do some extra paperwork and get it out of the way so they could spend the weekend at this “Magical Mountain House” Mr. Burton owned. 

 “Oh, you’re awake.” a voice said, a man standing in the doorway. 

Leon looked him over, not recognizing him. He took in his appearance and started making a profile; white male, late fifties, early sixties, black or dark brown hair slicked back. He couldn’t tell what color his eyes were, but he had a mustache and a beard, the same color as the hair on his head. He was wearing a pristine looking white suit, a bolo tie, dress shoes, and wore a large, gold ring on his left thumb. He looked about six feet tall, maybe a bit taller than that. He had a slim build, but no distinct markings that Leon could see. 

“You must be very confused...I can’t blame you.” The man said, approaching the bed as maids fluttered in with trays of food and a bottle of wine, setting up the table by the fireplace, “ I would be too if I were in your position...but you can thank your father for you being here. He’s the one that made me very angry.”

Okay, so, clearly, this man knew his father...but how? His father had been dead for some time...at least he thought so. There had been that one time where he thought he saw him when he went with Chris to that one gala, but it must have been in his head. Old friend? Couldn’t have been if Dad made them angry. Someone that played a part in his death? Possibly. 

Leon stayed quiet, deciding not to play along just in case the man was not in a “friendly” mood. 

 “No need to be shy, Leon.” The man said, “I have no intention of hurting you...unless you or your father force me to do so. Let me introduce myself, my name is Derek Simmons.” The man offered a hand in greeting, holding it out for Leon to shake. 

The college student looked from it to the man’s face, “...My father is dead.” 

The sound of the man’s laughter made Leon jump slightly, not anticipating the abrupt sound, “Oh, of course you don’t know what’s really going on...Lucas is alive.” 

Leon furrowed his brows as Simmons picked up a remote from inside of his coat pocket, aiming it at the ugly portrait above the fireplace. Leon watched in fascination as the picture split down the middle, opening up and revealing a screen of sorts behind it. Said screen flickered to life, showing Leon a video of a lab, or maybe a bunker, or some kind of warehouse. The date at the corner of the screen indicated that the video was from a couple months ago, right around when Chris had first seen Leon and Ark’s livestream on YouTube. 

He watched as a figure moved on screen, running away from these giant, skinless frog looking creatures. The figure, a man, turned and began opening fire on the creatures, successfully gunning a couple down before running once more. The camera angles switched, the man fleeing through what looked like shipment containers, weaving through them like a maze. The camera zoomed in on the man’s face as he made it to one of the elevators, Leon’s eyes wide in shock. 

“No way…” He whispered, looking as though he had seen a ghost. 

That man...the one on the screen...it was his father. He was...alive? How? Where had he been all this time? No...Leon shook his head in disbelief, not believing what he was seeing as Simmons narrated what was happening. 

“There’s no way.” Leon protested, “My dad is dead.” 

Simmons chuckled, “But you saw him, remember?” He asked, pressing another button on the remote control, the screen switching to just last month, Leon now looking at the ballroom from that one gala he attended with Chris. He saw himself, the one camera positioned on him and the other camera was positioned on the Lucas look-alike. The two had made brief eye-contact, but the Lucas look-alike quickly bolted before Leon could fully process what he had seen. Simmons laughed as Leon’s jaw fell open, tears burning in his eyes. 

“You see now, don’t you?” Simmons asked, “Your father is very much alive, Leon. He abandoned you and your mother so he could go play James Bond around the world.” 

“He wouldn’t…no!” Leon shook his head fervently, “He’s dead! This is some fucked up game! If he was really alive, he would never abandon us!” 

“Then why did he?” Simmons asked in amusement, pausing the camera on Lucas, “If Daddy truly loved you...why did he abandon you? Or...do you really know and feel like he did...and that’s why you feel such a strong connection with Chris? Why do you admire him and seek his approval? Do you secretly have “Daddy Issues” Leon? Because your own father abandoned you? Or are you afraid that Chris will abandon you too?” 

Leon growled and lashed out, aiming a punch at the man’s face. The man caught it, so Leon threw another punch with his other hand, but Simmons caught that too, shoving him down onto the bed. The bastard was laughing at him, holding him down.

“Don’t worry, Leon.” Simmons said, holding the younger’s wrists down with his one hand while the other brushed brown locks out of his eyes, angry tear-filled blue eyes glaring up at him, “I won’t abandon you.”

#age difference au #sneak peek #chreon #Kennfield #Leon S. Kennedy #Derek C Simmons #Moanday #Send Me Asks

[rumbelleshowdown]

Author: Tea Rose 

Prompt:  Insects at night; bubble bath; Victorian

Group: C

-

North Star 

The water was deliciously warm, and Belle sighed, sinking lower in the bath and letting her knees rise up. Tiny bubbles were rolling down her thighs into the water, waves of white foam from the rose and lavender soap she had used. They piled against her wet skin, and she lifted a foot, lathering the soap between her hands and stroking fragrant froth between her toes. The sound of swift footsteps made her glance around, and she smiled as her maid, Ruby Lucas, entered with a copper jug full of steaming water.

“Last one, Miss Belle,” she said breathlessly, and Belle sat forward, hugging her knees as Ruby poured in the hot water, making the bubbles seethe and burst.

“Thank you,” said Belle, relaxing back and letting her arms stretch out. “Did I hear the front door just now?”

“Mr Gold arrived,” said Ruby, and seemed to bite her lip to hide a smirk as Belle squeaked.

“Mr Gold? But he hasn’t visited in an age! Is he staying long?”

“Tiana was making some supper for him while I was fetching the water,” said Ruby, with a grin. “So it looks that way, Miss.”

Belle floundered, pushing herself upright and splashing water over the edge of the tub.

“Hurry! My blue dress!”

-

Ruby was used to her mistress’s impulsive nature and swift decisions, and she managed to get Belle dressed and ready quickly, although Belle thought it fortunate that she hadn’t washed her hair that evening. She hurried from her room as soon as the last pin was in place, and paused at the top of the stairs, hands smoothing her skirts nervously. Voices were drifting up from her father’s study, and Belle clutched at the smooth oak banister, her heart pounding and the colour rising in her cheeks as she recognised the warm brogue of Mr Gold. She closed her eyes briefly, remembering the way his smile made the corners of his mouth twist and his eyes gleam with a soft, amber light.

He had been friends with her father for some time; Maurice French’s strange inventions and boundless enthusiasm for the latest scientific discoveries made him somewhat eccentric in the eyes of his peers, but Mr Gold shared his interests, and the two of them had struck up a friendship. Gold had a fine house in London and an estate north of the Scottish border that Belle had regrettably never seen. Maurice didn’t like to travel, preferring to spend all his time at home, shut up in his workroom or reading in his library. Gold travelled a great deal, searching far and wide for a son he had lost and was desperate to find.

Belle had seen a picture of his son once, a drawing in charcoal of a dark-haired boy of around fourteen. It had been crumpled and a little smudged at the edges, as though it was looked at often. Thinking of the pain that Gold had carried for years made her heart ache for him, but he always had a smile for her, and a present from his travels, and fascinating tales of the places he had visited. He had been coming to the house regularly for the past five years, and Belle had been completely in love with him for around four and a half. For all the good it did.

She took a deep breath, composing herself before she entered the room, and both men turned to look at her, Maurice short and round with a balding head and bristling white mustache and Gold a little taller, thin and clean-shaven. He wore his brown hair longer than was fashionable, curling over the collar of his coat and brushing his cheeks. It was turning silver at the temples, and she had always thought how soft it looked, and how much she wanted to touch it. There was an old ring on his right hand, a moonstone in a heavy gold band, which she had noticed him turning between finger and thumb when lost in thought. Gold bowed his head as she entered.

“Miss French,” he said. “You’re looking remarkably well.”

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s been too long since we saw you, hasn’t it, Papa? Where did you go?”

Gold glanced between them.

“I just returned from the south of France,” he said. “Choppy waters in the Bay of Biscay, but the winds were with us.”

“Oh!” said Belle excitedly. “I’d love to go to France! Please, tell me what it was like!”

Gold turned towards her, the little smile he often wore twisting his mouth and making his dark eyes gleam in the lamplight.

“I rode a horse through endless fields of lavender,” he said softly. “The scent filled the air around me, and seemed to sink into my skin, so that I could smell it at night when I lay down to sleep. The road was hard earth, baked and cracked by the sun, winding between small villages and farms where the locals dozed in the shade of the olive trees with their cats. In the evenings, the sun would set in a blazing puddle of molten gold, and I ate fresh bread and soft, pungent cheese and drank red wine that was dark as blood and tasted of spices.”

Belle could feel her mouth fall open as the sound of his voice washed over her, filling her mind with the images his words created. His eyes were fixed on hers, his gaze steady.

“Must be a shock to come back to London, what?” said Maurice jovially, and Gold looked away, breaking the spell.

“The city is even busier and dirtier than I remember,” he said, with a grin. “It’s strange: I tell myself each time I go that I should sell the house and leave London entirely, yet something keeps pulling me back, turning me home. Like a guiding light. Like the North Star.”

He glanced briefly at Belle, and she felt a blush begin to heat her cheeks. Please don’t leave, she thought. Please don’t leave me.

“It’ll keep your housekeeper on her toes,” chuckled Maurice.

“Poor Mrs Potts,” said Gold, sounding rueful. “I fear the house will still be shut up tight. I’ll have to let myself in and build a fire. It’ll be the devil’s work for my valet trying to make me presentable tomorrow morning; he does like to do things properly.”

“Then stay with us, my dear fellow!” cried Maurice, patting his shoulder. “Goodness, you can’t be expected to open up the house yourself at this hour!”

“Well, it would certainly be a relief not to have to go out again,” said Gold. “The journey was rather tiring. Of course, I wouldn’t want to impose...”

“Not at all, not at all,” said Maurice. “Let me speak to Mrs Lucas. I’ll have one of the guest rooms made ready, and Locksley will look after your man.”

“Thank you, you’re very kind.”

Maurice bustled out, and Gold turned to Belle with a smile.

“I’m sorry to be calling so late, Miss French,” he said. “After travelling for so long, I almost lost track of the day, not to mention the hour.”

“We’re very glad to see you,” she said warmly, almost reaching for his hand before remembering herself and pulling back. “And you must be tired. Please, don’t feel that you have to stand on my account. Do take a seat, I insist.”

Gold’s smile widened.

“I could never refuse you anything, Miss French.”

-

Gold was served a simple supper of raised game pie, bread and cheese, and afterwards he and Maurice drank brandy and talked over the latest news. Belle was eager to hear more stories of the trip to France, and Gold obliged, telling her of the sights he had seen on the roads through Provence to Avignon.

“Sounds dusty,” declared Maurice. “And much too hot. This summer has been wretched. Far better to stay at home.”

“Well, I would love to travel,” said Belle. “I always wanted to see the world. I’ve lived twenty years, and barely left London! What I wouldn’t give for some adventure!”

“You young people are too restless,” grumbled Maurice. “Certainly I have no desire to be always going here, there and everywhere. And certainly young women shouldn’t be travelling alone and - and adventuring. It’s unseemly.”

“This is the Victorian age, Papa,” said Belle severely. “If Her Majesty is considered capable of ruling an entire empire, then allowing the rest of us women the freedom to do as we please will hardly bring about the downfall of civilisation.”

Maurice clicked his tongue.

“Really, Belle!” he said. “What must Mr Gold think of you?” “Mr Gold agrees wholeheartedly,” said Gold. “The world would be far better if women had the same freedoms as men, and were recognised for the infinitely superior creatures they are. Where will you go on your travels, Miss French?”

Belle thought for a moment.

“Perhaps I shall start a little closer to home,” she said. “I have always wanted to visit Scotland.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to come to Dundorcha,” he said. “Although at this time of year, the midges will want to eat you alive.”

“Perhaps in the winter, then,” she suggested, and he smiled.

“I’ll make you very welcome.”

-

It was nearing midnight. Maurice was snoring in his chair, and Belle had followed Gold out onto the balcony overlooking the rear gardens. The summer night was cool, the only light coming from the oil lantern that Gold had carried with them and placed on the table where Belle took her morning tea. A moth appeared out of the night, batting translucent wings against the lantern’s glass shade. Smaller insects joined it, the glow from the lantern catching them, brief flecks of light in the darkness. Gold was gazing out into the night, his expression distant, thoughtful. His fingers turned that old ring, the gold band catching the light from the lantern.

“Where did you get that ring?” asked Belle. “I always meant to ask. It looks old.”

Gold looked down, splaying his fingers.

“It is,” he agreed. “Older than you might think.”

“Is it a family heirloom?” she asked, and he smiled in an almost secretive way.

“Something like that.”

“A good luck charm, perhaps?” she suggested, and he shrugged.

“It’s supposed to help the bearer find what it is they want most in the world,” he said, and leaned towards her, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s magic.”

“Really?” she asked, a little breathless at his closeness of him. Gold pulled back, a tiny sigh escaping him.

“Well, that’s what I hoped,” he said, sounding resigned. “A fool’s hope. There is no magic in this world. At least, not any more. Perhaps there used to be.”

He sounded despondent, and she wanted to comfort him, to tell him there was always hope.

“Is there no word of him?” she asked gently. “No word of your son? I’m sure you’ll find him. I can feel it.”

Gold shook his head, his mouth twisting.

“I’ve been searching for so long now,” he said quietly. “Every time I hear the faintest rumour I pick up and I chase after it. Every time I’ve been disappointed.”

“You mustn’t give up hope,” she said, and he turned to her with a sad smile.

“I try to keep faith that I’ll find him,” he said. “Alas, this time it was not to be. I didn’t choose the right place. Sometimes I wonder if I’m even in the right time.”

“The world is vast,” she said. “Trying to find one person out of - of thousands - must be next to impossible. You can’t blame yourself.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “And perhaps it isn’t merely my own misfortune. If he wanted to be found, he wouldn’t make it so difficult.”

Belle stepped closer.

“You think he’s - hiding - from you?” she asked curiously, and he sighed gently.

“There was a misunderstanding,” he said. “Before he - before I lost him. I think he might still be very angry with me.”

Belle bit her lip, shaking her head.

“But you’re his father,” she said softly. “He must know that you love him. He can’t stay angry forever.”

“I hope you’re right.”

His eyes were downcast, and he suddenly looked very tired. Tired and sad. On impulse, Belle stepped close, turning her face upwards and pressing her mouth to his. She felt him freeze at the touch of her lips, and she drew back, her heart pounding. Gold was staring at her wide-eyed, a stricken look on his face, but then his gaze darkened and he reached out to cup her cheeks with warm hands, bending his head to kiss her.

Belle opened her mouth a little, a moan escaping her as his lips met hers, soft and warm. The touch of his tongue made her rise up on her toes and press her body to his, and he let out a low groan as she slid her hands around his waist. A faint, jagged noise seemed to burst outwards, like the sound of glass shattering in the distance, and Belle’s eyes flew open as what looked like a rainbow-hued ripple spread out from them and dissipated. Gold was breathing heavily, staring at her wide-eyed.

“What was that?” she gasped, and he smiled broadly, gazing at the ring on his finger, which seemed to pulse with a soft light.

“A second chance,” he breathed. “A spark of magic. I can find him. With this I can find him.”

“Magic?” she asked, puzzled, and he cradled her cheeks with his palms, still grinning. He looked to be on the verge of tears, and she couldn’t understand it.

“The most powerful magic of all,” he said softly. “Powerful enough to transcend realms and trigger the spell in this ring. True love.”

Belle clutched at his waist, nodding fiercely.

“Yes!” she whispered. “I do love you! I’ve loved you for so long!”

“And I love you, too.” He pressed his forehead to hers, seeming to breathe in her scent. “I never dared to hope that you might feel the same, my darling Belle. I never dared to dream that you might want me. And now you’ve given me this gift. This chance.”

“I - I don’t understand,” she said. “What did I do?”

His thumbs stroked her cheeks, his nose brushing against hers.

“There’s power in love, Belle,” he said. “Love creates magic. Magic enough to let me find my boy. Will you come with me?”

Belle smiled at his strange talk of magic, reaching up to stroke a hand through his hair. It was every bit as soft as she had thought.

“I’d love to,” she said. ”We’ll see the world, just as I always wanted. I’ll help you find him, I swear it. Whatever you need.”

Gold kissed her again, soft lips gently pulling at her own, and she melted into the kiss, safe in his arms. Magic or not, it would be the most wonderful adventure.

-

#rumbelle showdown 2020 #round three entry #author: tea rose #rumbelle fic

[dearyams]

december 16, 1985

Strange, isn't it? Each man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?

— It’s A Wonderful Life, 1946

[ day 1: love, actually, is all around ]

Today is Monday. Winter break has started but Mondays are still Mondays whether vacationing or not. Snowball or whatever high schoolers called it—basically the winter formal for ‘85—was the night before, the first winter dance for high school freshmen, and Mike didn’t attend. He didn’t see a reason to even though Lucas, Max, and Nancy kept trying to convince him otherwise. Even Dustin got on the floor and danced to a few tunes according to Lucas’ overly excited report on the night’s activities. It almost makes Mike wish he dropped by, but he couldn’t stomach hanging about in the corner watching everyone dancing and hugging and kissing when his heart drove away stuffed inside a packed box of Byers’ belongings in the back of a U-haul two and a half months ago.

Maybe Mike would have gone if he called up El and asked how she felt, even though they hadn’t talked in at least two weeks. Ever since the Wheelers visited for Thanksgiving, things between Mike and El have been a tad...awkward. He couldn’t tell who made their every interaction more tense than a trip wire but he knew he couldn’t absolve himself of all blame. He’d take accountability for his actions if he knew what he did that made El decide a break would be best for their friendship. For the first few days after Thanksgiving, Mike and El still talked but December came around and finals kicked Mike’s ass and calling El slowly fell off the list of most important tasks on the day.

Will still called though. Mike never hesitated to pick up the phone and send him a hello when he did. They still had a lot in common and Mike found it silly that he ever thought moving away would suddenly mean they can’t be friends anymore, but it seemed like a valid concern at the time. It was difficult coming to terms with distance as a barrier blocking him from the tactile friendship he grew up fostering, nurturing, and protecting for longer than he could remember. Mike quickly found he missed the way Will’s breath hitched on certain words, little notches in consonants that were swallowed by the static found in a phone call. He also missed that he couldn’t see Will’s face when they talked. He forgot how often he watched the other boy’s face to read his expressions and words far more than he would listen to his actual words. Not that he didn’t listen but...Will’s face said a lot in the glow of his eyes and the small upwards tilt of his lips.

And maybe Mike didn’t attend Snowball ‘85 because he tried to call the Byers residence Saturday night and no one answered. And maybe his imagination had him thinking that El and Will were out at a dance for their new school, having fun with strangers and mingling with people Mike only knew the names of from Will and El’s stories about their new school. And maybe, Mike just wanted an easy excuse for staying home alone as the rest of his family went out, so he could hide behind scribbles in his writing journal, painting phrases meant to echo the sound of his beating heart, hollow in his chest as winter chilled his mind.

So, it’s Monday. It’s cold, damp, and snowy, and the scarf Mike’s mom draped over his shoulders and the lower half of his face filters stingingly cold snowflakes from drifting up his pink flushed nose. He’s been sent out to grab eggnog from the shop downtown, the one Joyce used to work at in fact. Mike would have protested but his mom and Nancy agreed that since he stayed home all day yesterday, it was only fair he went outside himself for a short spell.

The bike ride is easy. His fingers are stiff on the handle bars despite the thick gloves protecting his fingers from the worst of the cold. The ice on the roads was cleared off early in the morning so he doesn’t skid very often making his way down the asphalt streets. Snow continues to swirl around him in a dainty breeze, peppering white specks in what hair peaks out from under his wool hat, making his hair look washed with bits of white as if he’s older than 15, which he only just turned a month ago either way. Mike’s mind wanders to his birthday party, the first one without Will since he turned 6, and he angrily grits his teeth and pedals faster. Various other snowflakes melt on his red freckled cheeks and sparkle on his lashes. Mike hums lightly and turn around a corner until he skids to a gentle stop at his destination. He hops off his bike, booted feet crunching against a thick pile of snow, and parks it before making his way inside the building.

Mike pulls his damp scarf from around his nose and mouth with a rough exhale. He snatches off his hat, shaking it off as he walks inside, and takes a hand to his hair in a messy attempt to make it look more orderly than before. Stuffing the hat in the wide pockets of his puffy snow jacket, Mike traipses toward the refrigerated isle. He keeps humming as he did on his bike ride, grabbing two cartons of eggnog and snatching a red and green container filled with candy canes he passes on his way through the nearby candy isle. The candy canes made him think of Will, who was always so eager to start eating the peppermint flavored treats once December came around. A tiny smile slips onto his lips as he stares at the goods in hand, remembering drinking eggnog in large mugs, chewing on candy canes and making eggnog mustaches that they would tease each other about as they imitated Hopper and his brutish tone.

“Is that all for you, Wheeler?”

Mike blinks out of his memories. “Oh? Yeah. Just picking up some eggnog for my mom.” He places the items on the counter and scrounges his pants for pocket change. “She’s been really on top of making sure we have everything for Christmas even though we’re still a bit over a week out. Just on Friday we went out shopping for a lot more food than I think any of us could eat. I don’t even know why we need more eggnog.”

“It’s never too early to prepare yourself,” the cashier takes Mike’s money and stores it in the register. “She could be preparing a surprise for all you know.”

“A surprise?” He takes the plastic bag passed along with a snort. “Yeah, my mom doesn’t really do surprises. Outside of presents but everyone knows those are meant to surprises.”

He gets a hum in response. “Well, enjoy your surplus of eggnog, Michael. Take care of yourself out there. The snow is coming down harder.”

Mike looks out the storefront window and sighs. “I’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m biking through a blizzard.”

“You’re welcome to stay inside for a few and wait for the snow to calm down.” A soft smile dons the other’s face. “I can call your mom and let her know about your delay.”

“Oh,” Mike stares at his goods. “I don’t want the eggnog to get warm.”

“No worries; you can put it back in the ‘frigerator and I’ll be sure to remind you to pick it back up.” Mike nods slowly. “Let me call your mother now.”

He nods again, brow wrinkling as he puts the eggnog back. His hands only hold a plastic bag filled with candy canes. Mike pulls out the container and rips off the plastic to take out one of the cane-shaped candies. He walks back to the counter, hearing but not listening to the last dregs of the shopkeeper’s conversation with his mom, and starts to chew on a candy cane. He remembers when Joyce used to man the store and how she would let him and the boys jump up and sit on the counters during rainy days when she didn’t want any of them walking outside getting soaking wet. Sometimes Mike’s mom would stop by and say hello, chat with Joyce for much longer than she needed to if just to let Mike have a few more minutes with his friends before he was carted back home.

The memories are washed with the sweet yet strong blanketed taste of peppermint that fills his mouth thanks to the candy cane. Mike sighs and pulls the candy from his mouth, smiling to himself as he already sees he’s started to suck a sharp point from the tip. Dustin and Lucas loved to sword fight with the pointy end, which Mike found pretty gross since it was all covered in their spit but it was still fun in that typical boyish kind of way. He bites the pointy tip off and turned to look outside just in time for a bundle of cloth to barge its way through the doors as the snowstorm outside indeed gets stronger.

Mike belated wonders why he didn’t bother to check the weather, and then grows confused about why his mom sent him outside knowing the upcoming weather—she’s always on top of things like that so her kids don’t get sick. He turns to the intruder who’s interrupted his trip down snowy memory lane, and then unintentionally drops his candy canes once the figure uncovers enough of his bundled face. The candies break on impact but it’s a distant noise to the rush of blood pounding through Mike’s heart. All Mike would have to see is his hair, let alone his eyes—those always familiarly homey green-hazel eyes—to know exactly who stands before him.

“Will?”

The mentioned boy turns on his heel and then drops the scarf he had been untying from around his neck. “Oh my god, Mike!”

Mike can’t move; his feet seem frozen in place as if he’d been standing outside for three hours straight. Will makes his way forth, hat in hand and—oh, a haircut. Mike’s throat dries up but he manages to move his arms for a hug. Will’s warmth shatters the ice around Mike’s legs and he practically crumples into the shorter boy’s arms. He burrows his face in Will’s hair with a crooked smile. “What’re you doing in Hawkins?”

“Mom said we could come by and visit since you came up to see us last month.” Will pulls away with a wide grin that makes Mike’s heart climb up his throat. “I didn’t expect to see you here, though! What a coincidence.”

Mike looks over at the store clerk who is washing off the counter and acting as if she can’t hear their conversation. “Yeah, coincidence.” He turns back to his friend and places his hands on his shoulders. “You’ve grown even more already.”

Will shrugs. “Guess it’s my time to grow a foot in a year, huh?”

“Try me,” laughs Mike, squeezing Will’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. “It’s great to see you, honestly. You left a big hole for us to try to fill.”

“Did you really try to fill it?”

Mike shakes his head. “Nah, not really. It’s a Will Byers shaped hole anyway. No one else could have it even if they tried.”

The warm smile that curls on Will’s lips sends Mike halfway into a hysterical conniption. How can he miss one person this much? How is his entire life so affected by the presence—or lack thereof—of one person? How did Hawkins as a whole feel so bleak without this boy? Mike didn’t think he grew this attached, but looking back on things, of course he did. Of course it was so obvious; now, if he can get a handle on how attached he is...

“I think you dropped your candy canes.” Will bends down to pick up the pieces and Mike, startled by the sudden action, ducks down to help as well. They both reach for the same piece, Mike’s warm fingers brushing against Will’s chilled ones, and their eyes immediately lock. Pink blossoms against Will’s soft cheeks and Mike is sure the same can be said for him.

“Sorry,” he whispers, snatching his hand away but Will reaches out. His hand is shaking, whether with the cold or the emotions racing his chest, Mike can’t tell but it’s a comfort either way. He stares at their hands, the slight tan of Will’s against the lighter pale tone of his own, pink at the knuckles and tips of his fingers. Mike has always been prone to easily flushed skin thanks to how pale he is, and while it was a bother when he was younger, right now at least, he likes seeing the difference between himself and Will, even if it’s not a startling difference.

Will’s thumb brushes against the back of Mike’s hand. “I’ve missed you a lot. You haven’t called recently.”

“I called on Saturday,” he blurts out, “but you didn’t answer.”

“Oh.” Will squeezes Mike’s hand and he looks up to see the other boy smiling as he watches their fingers. “We were on our way driving to Hawkins.”

“We?”

“Yeah, me, Mom, Jonathan, and El.” He looks up at El and Mike cringes slightly. Will’s hand stills. “Uh, I can go get her if you want to say hello?”

“No! No, this is...you’re fine.” Mike scrambles to gather his splintered candy canes and shoves them in the grocery bag as he stands. Will stands as well. “Don’t worry about that. We’re not...I mean we’re still friends but...”

“Yeah, I know.” Will stuffs his hands in his pockets and rocks on the heels of his feet. He’s not slouching as much anymore and that brings a soft smile to Mike’s lips. “I just thought you might want to catch up with her.”

“Later. Later for sure but right now just,” Mike looks back outside and see the storm has gotten worse. He thinks back to the conversation with the clerk about surprises and ducks his head as he smiles. “This is fine, just you and me. I’m glad you’re here.”

He feels something brush his hand and turns his gaze to Will’s fingers dancing against his hand. He turns his palm up and blushes when Will goes for the plunge and holds Mike’s hand in his own, their fingers slotting together with the ease of matching puzzle pieces. Mike looks up but Will isn’t facing him, though he doesn’t need to see Will’s face to know he’s happily blushing, too.

#byler #byeler #byelerholidaybash #frogfaceandzombieboy #i used a different quote bc i love this movie so much #fluff #multi part

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

The News (Sriracha, Part 41.)

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

Part Summary: The wedding came way sooner than you expected to, you could maybe say that you weren’t even prepared for a thing of such a caliber. Also, did El and Mike really told Mr. Clarke that they’re cousins?

A/N: This chapter is a complete and utter chaos and I love it so much. Inspired by all of the romantic songs from the 80s’. There is a lot of callbacks to the OG Stranger Things (like El and Mike being cousins) and into the origins of this series as well.

Warnings: THIS SHIT IS HEART-WARMING, IT WILL MAKE YOU FEEL GOOD, MF, BECAUSE I LOVE AND YOU MATTER TO ME AND NOTHING WILL CHANGE THIS. Also, a lot of fluff. ♥

Word count: 5K

Tagging: @nemodoren @missdictatorme @ysljordy @creedslove​ @hopperlover​

Series master list: H E R E

GIF SOURCE

Life can go completely crazy once you decide to something insane with it. Like having a wedding with a guy who you love without any judging, yet still being a college student. The big date was set on the first July of 1986, which meant that you had to study for that semester’s finals, take care of the new house you owned, having Eleven moving back and on top of that, you were doing preparations for the wedding. Now, that was what you called busy.

It was quite weird when you once took El to Hawkins High to sign the papers with her, meeting professor Clarke in the process. You let Max and El go to your car while he wanted to have small chit-chat with you.

"How are you and your Hopper doing? Everything fine?" - He started, putting his palms entwined on his chest. After a while, you nodded, being completely confused. After a small rant about your approaching wedding, he proceeded to the thing which was itching his curiosity.

"Have seen Eleven before here a couple of times before. First, if I'm correct, it was in 1983. Then she came to the Snow Ball of 1984... I thought she was Mike Wheeler’s cousin and now I get to know she's your and Hopper’s daughter?" - He asked curiously. What the hell was going on in the fall of 1983? You hadn't known much about that time from El’s perspective, yet Mike mentioned that was the year when they first met. Trying to hide the nervousness and confusion behind a smile, you nodded.

"You know kids, Mr. Clarke. They like to make things up and they don't exactly think about the consequences either. It was probably some joke or whatever." - You giggled, telling yourself that you have to talk to both of them about this. It wasn’t an issue that could bring some great consequences in the future, but it would be weird to see two teenagers who proclaimed being cousins... Well... Holding hands, kissing, and stuff. - "Especially these boys. You know Dustin and Lucas, Mike and Will. They love to make up stories and wild stuff. Sometimes even I don't know what should I believe when they're telling me something. Their imagination is just amazing."

"Right, haven't exactly thought about that. You have any information about Joyce, Will, and Jonathan?" - He asked and this time, he wasnt suspicious. You nodded with a happy smile, telling him all about their life in Maine. You wanted to visit them in there for a short vacation, taking Mike, Lucas, El, and Dustin with you - Steve Harrington told you that he and Nancy would gladly go with you to ride in the second car.

"Mr. Clarke, you're invited to my wedding!" - You yelled at him when you were leaving the corridor, pointing a finger at that slim, tall man with a mustache. - "I hope that you'll come. July the first, party starts at two p.m.!"

But when you sat behind the steering wheel, that was a different story. You looked at Eleven who was sitting at the passenger seat, having a hell of a confused face. - "Cousins? You and Mike told them that you're cousins? Where are we? In Texas or Alabama? For the love of God." - You asked unbelievably. Max on the backseat leaned in with a burst of laughter. She didn't know about that either since she wasnt around at that time.

"It was Mike's idea... And Mike’s a boy and boys are..." - Eleven wanted to defend herself, her brown eyes looking at you while you started the engine. You stopped her by pointing your index finger at her.

"Uh-uh, young lady. Only I can say that boys are stupid and that's because I'm living with your father. We clear?" - You asked with a giggle. They told them that they're cousins... Jesus Christ... You couldn't wait to tell Hopper. It was clear that he will lose it once you'll tell him what Mr. Clarke asked you that day. After taking the girls for some ice-cream, you picked up Hopper at the station, since his shift was just ending. While Eleven ran off with Max to look at the movies int he rent shop Harrington was working at, you entered the police station.

"Afternoon, Flo. Every time I see you, you look better than the last time. How do you do that?" - You asked, leaning your head to your shoulder. You loved that woman so much - you still remembered how much patience she had with you and Hopper at the start.

"You, honey, are going blind. Nice to see you too." - She got up with a giggle, hugging you and kissing both your cheeks. - "The big day.s on its way. How you're feeling? I was so nervous I couldn't sleep a month before it happened."  

"Oh, I'm more nervous about my finals than about my wedding. Jim will probably get drunk and he’ll cry in the corner with my father about me being a big girl and stuff. I hope he gave you the invitation card? If he didn't, I swear to God..." - You rolled your eyes, having Flo gently patting your shoulder. The old lady disappeared for a second to snatch you some coffee and a piece of cake. Callahan, Powell nor Hopper noticed you chatting with Flo yet, so you had the time to observe Jim.

He looked way more relaxed as a normal officer. It could be seen that he's happier than that before. He didn't have as much responsibility as he had when he worked on the position of the police chief, even though he was doing an excellent job being the head of Hawkins police. Yet now, he had more time to have fun with the two other men and there was something simple about listening to orders.

"Honey, don't worry about that. The Monday after you said yes, he came to the office yelling that he's about to marry you. For real this time. And the following week he gave the cards to at least half of the station." - Flo chuckled, watching the men as well. It took them a while to notice you standing there but when they did, Hopper immediately started to pack his stuff. Normally, Powell or Callahan drove him home, so it was a nice surprise seeing you standing there.

"How you're doing, girl?" - Powell gave you a tight fatherly hug, have you smiling from ear to ear in the process. - "You're looking tubular. That's how the young call it these days? Also, new haircut?" - The man asked when you gave a short hug to the younger policeman.  

"You're about two years late with tubular, dear Powell. But thanks for noticing since this grumpy bastard didn't." - You let Jim slide a hand on your waist, looking at him with your eyebrow risen.

"You know that I still can cancel the engagement?" - Hopper mumbled before stealing a kiss from you. For a short moment, you were just looking at that handsome man before calling him out with: - "It’s more probable that I would do that, baby. So don't try to piss me off."

"And that's the facts. See you around boys, we have a family night." - Hopper waved at them, leading you out of the station, telling you about his day. Max and Eleven were waiting for you outside, holding a few rented movies. You were taking them to the cinema that night, true, but you allowed them to watch some movies in the living room. It was Friday, so neither of them had to wake up for school.

The other few weeks were just crazy - you and Hopper had to choose the flavor of your wedding cake, you had to study for finals hard, there were the dress tests and even three weeks before the wedding, you hadn't found the right one. Steve Harrington, Robin, Nancy, and your mom became the party for each of the tests since Hopper wasnt allowed to see them. The location was paid, the menu was completed, the decorations were also set to go, but the dress...

And also the finals.

You'd swear that you hadn't sweat this hard at the previous exams you were taking. And writing the final essay wasn’t a walk in the park as well. It was the result of many things that happened in 1986: from Hopper being MIA to coming back, buying a home, finishing the reconstructions, having Eleven coming back to your life, the whole proposal, and marriage thing... You straightaway cried when you got the letter you passed and that by the start of the next semester, you'll start a whole year lasting practicum at the children's traumatology in the hospital of Hawkins. That was a miracle happing right there.  

After that, it was time to concentrate on the chaos you called "my life". And it was hard sometimes to stay mentally stable. Especially when the countdown to the wedding itself came. It was a week before the first of July when you stopped in the door leading from your bathroom, looking at Jim quietly reading in the bed. You looked like you're about to puke something, your eyes being widened and opened.

"Are you alrite? Somethin’ happened in there?" - Jim put the book down, quickly snatching his new reading glasses from the top of his nose. With the same face, you walked through the bedroom, shaking your head.

"This doesn't look like your nothin’ happened face. What's goin’ on?" - He asked once again when you were purring the pajamas on. Eleven was listening to the Romantics on the second floor, so you heard some parts of A Night Like This resonating through the house.

"Marriage is the scariest of all social constructs I've ever seen." - You started explaining, climbing into the bed next to Jim. Oh, so that was what this was about. - "I mean, two people can live together without having to marry, you know? All it takes is love and time and..."

"You're afraid of bein’ married is what you're tryin’ to say, am I rite?" - Jim chuckled, looking as you tried to figure out the most comfortable position. You settled on your belly, having a small pillow under your breasts, watching Jim sitting next to you. You made a dumb face before nodding.

"You’ll be just fine, trust me. You already have me under your thumb so there's nothin’ to worry about. Come ’ere." - The man chuckled, putting the book on his nightstand to snuggle you.

"It wasnt too hard to domesticate you, but... I'll be Mrs. Hopper next week. If you'd die, I would have the right to have the money from the police office and stuff. It's the legalities that make me anxious." - You mumbled horrified. Suddenly, you jumped when Hopper just started to laugh out loud.

"You haven't even got married and you're already thinkin’ about havin’ me dead? Well, that's nice." - He continued with the laughing, having you chuckling too. - "Trust me. It won't change a thing... Except for your surname."

But even if Hopper assured you a million times, just like your mom and Steve, you still couldn't sleep, couldn't eat and you were sure that as soon as you'll be walking down the aisle, you'll run away with Bon Jovi playing in the background. Steve even offered you that he can ’kidnap’ you so Hopper would have to find you, but you said no that offer, no matter how fun did that sound.

The first of July was the worst day you have ever endured since you had to get up pretty early and you didn't even have a bachelorette party. Hopper left to your parent's place while Robin, Joyce, Nancy, and your mom with Lena gathered at your place. You heard Robin asking your mom if you're fine when she saw you getting up from the bed - your mom had to explain to her that you had a problem with getting up since the day you started kindergarten.

You puked through the first hour they arrived, spending it on the toiled, bawling your eyes out. When they managed to get you out, robin made you do the basic things, like taking a shower, brushing your teeth, and drink at least a cup of coffee to raise your pressure. You were looking like you were about to faint for the last hour and a half.

"If you don't want to marry the man, you shouldn't accept the ring is what I'm saying." - Your mom told you while she and Jules were making a hairstyle on your head. You looked puffy, tired, and not well at all. Nancy was sitting on your bed, reading some girly magazine as well

"I do want to marry him, I just really don’t feel good." - You told them, clearing your nose with a tissue.

"I think it's the nerves that are fucking you up." - Robin got up and stood behind Nance so you could see her in the mirror too. She was speaking in the most boyish manner possible, she never fucked around with you or Steve and that was why you liked that girl so much. - "Read it in my mom's Cosmo." - She shrugged her shoulders, sending you a small smile. You nodded, earning a curse word from your mom who barely cursed.

As soon as everyone made sure they have everything, like dresses, jewelry, and stuff, everyone got into two cars - Eleven, Max, Nancy, and Lena were in one, while in the second one, there was you, your mom, Julia, and Robin. Mom told you that you're even prettier than she was on her big day. Robin knew how to crack you up with her jokes and how to bitch you down in case you had any side thoughts - that was why you chose her to ride with you. Both of your best friends didn't go exactly easy on you and that was why you adored them.

When you saw the church closer and closer, your hands started shaking and your forehead got wet like a helter-skelter. It all felt so right, yet so wrong at the same time. You knew Jim for three years almost and there were occasions when he proved to you that he’d go to hell for you. Not even that made you sure if it was all a good idea or not. Take on Me was playing in the background while girls were speaking about the flowers and decoration, so you decided that it was time for a little walk.

A little walk to Bloomington maybe? To run away from all that chaos inside of you? Or something like that? Just when your palm circled the door handle, Robin and Jules walked out of the preparation room. You leaned into the door innocently, having a smile on your face. Both of them knew what were you thinking about, so they walked to you from both sides, both of them entwining their elbow with yours. - "You are not running away. You are not going anywhere, milady. What you're going to do is that you'll dress up to the white dress, look like a princess and you'll make one old grumpy idiot very happy once you say yes." - Robin told you, dragging you back inside the room.

"And then, we'll have a party and you'll drink your ass off with us, understood?" - Julia asked sweetly too. They were two crazy sons of a bitch, so they made you exactly what they said you're going to do. Not even hour from that, you were marching in the back room dressed in white, having too long high-heels on with a veil over your face. You heard Jim coming - it was quite hard not to hear the men arriving. He had a few shots of Scotch or something your dad had at home since he was louder than usual.

As you heard more people, like Karen Wheeler who came in to wish you luck, coming in, you understood that it's happening. You will be a wedded woman in less than an hour. And that was... Surreal. The clapping of high heels intensified as you started to imagine all the horror scenarios again.

"Heard you're having some trouble here." - Jonathan and Joyce snuck into the room to say hi. Joyce was looking breath-taking in the lilac-colored dressed you've sent her to Maine. And that hairstyling? She was killing it. Jonathan was looking breath-taking too, yet his eyes were all over Nancy.

"It's just some slight turbulences." - You chuckled nervously, letting her hug you. After that, she stepped away, taking in the sight of you.

"My oh my, you're something." - Joyce chuckled, hugging everyone in the room as well. - "Hopper is really lucky these days, I mean, look at you. I know you're nervous and all, but as soon as you'll stand in front of him, you won't even remember that, trust me. I've done this too." - She chuckled, making you chuckle nervously as well. Jonathan then patted her shoulder, telling her that they have to get into the right order. She opened up her mouth and giggled excitedly, biting her lip after that. - "See you in ten, baby." - She hugged you for the last time and went outside. Everyone was going outside and you knew that the only person who will be waiting for you once you have to go there too will be your dad.

And he was smiling when you did so.

"You look just beautiful." - Was all he could say when you held the skirt up a bit so you wouldn't fall flat on your face. A smile was all you were capable of before you entwined your elbow with his, looking at the door leading outside for the last time.

"I know what you're thinking about." - He chuckled, looking at the door as well. - "Are you sure about doing it, though? Do you realize what consequences would that have, honey? You'd leave him in there alone, standing in front of all of the people you and he would look like a fool. Jim would be... I wouldn't say angry but disappointed for sure. Maybe he wouldn't talk to you after that for all I know." - Your dad took a deep breath in, straightening himself, making sure he's looking good.

"Believe it or not, I thought about running away too, so that's some genes here. Your mom would never, but I was scared like a little boy. But we’re twenty-six years in and I have never regretted marrying that awesome lady." - He looked down on you. For the first time that day, you were smiling without having some other chaotic feelings inside your head.

"And I mean... I wasn’t the happiest with Hopper at the beginning, but as time went, you two showed everyone in this bloody town what love is supposed to look like. You separated here and there, yes, but you also gave home and love to a girl who needed it. He taught you patience and you taught him to love. That's how it is, baby. And as far as I can say, I think you're doing the right thing. There's no need for second thoughts, no need for looking for a chance to escape because you'll be fine this man no matter what." - Your dad finished and you both had tears in your eyes.

"You’ve been drinking, haven't you?" - You asked to stop yourself from crying, snickering your old man with a burst of honest laughter. He didn't answer, but you saw on his eyes that he had a few glasses with Jim. - "I love you." - You whispered just before the door opened up and the cannon started to play. Everyone was standing up for you and you could see your mom and Jules weeping in the first row. You, one of the craziest and toughest sons of bitches were getting marries. Who would d have thought that it would happen so soon?

It felt weird to walk there, looking everyone you knew in their eyes. Karen and Tim were smiling at you, having Mike by their side and when you were in the middle of the aisle, you heard Joyce started crying as well. She was telling everyone that she's sorry, but everyone was just smiling, having tears in their eyes themselves. No matter how happy everyone felt, you were numb. Completely numb. All you could concentrate on was not falling, on your pulse, and the rhythm of your breathing.

Jim was standing there with his palms entwined in front of him, giving you the warmest smile he ever had. It was there. The last stop where you could turn around and run away from everything. It wasn’t that you didn't love him, for the love of God, you just... You were scared. Even if it wouldn't change your day-to-day life, you knew that it will have an overall impact on everything. When your father gave your hand to James, tears in your eyes could be seen. And Jim knew that these weren’t happy tears.

He remembered the wedding he had with Diane. He felt like throwing up until the ceremony was over, he didn't know if he chose to do the right thing or not, he was fighting himself. And now you were doing the same thing. It was natural and James understood everything since he had gone through all of that once. Marriage was one big unknown. What happens once you'll walk out of the church like a wedded couple? That was a thing no-one, including you, couldn't be sure about. But Hopper knew that this time, he has chosen the right person to go through all of these shenanigans with.

You had endless patience with him - and when James said endless, he meant endless. Eleven, the Russians, the Demogorgons... You absorbed all of that. When he was at his lowest, drinking and taking too many drugs, you made him stand on his feet. When he was acting like a jackass, you acted like one too until he calmed down. When you met, you looked past his temper issues and impressive love life to see him for the man he was. When it came to the terms of having a partner, you were the best person for Hopper. The best one had ever met.

"How you're doin’?" - He asked with a boyish smile when the wedding register spoke to the guests. You nodded, gulping quietly, looking at his palms holding yours. Jesus, he was looking good. He was looking great. If you'd have the chance, you'd undress him as soon as could.

"Pretty good, you?" - You whispered back, finally starting to smile. You didn't know shit from what the man next to you was talking about, the only thing you could see was James just... Smiling. Something about vows woke you up from the trance, looking around to see Steve handing you the cards you have written. Neither of you wanted to have some normal-ass pathetic vows. With your sense of humor, it was clear that this will make a lot of people chuckle.

"James Hopper." - You started, already having a nasty grin on your face. - "We already know that we can make it at our worst and our best. We already tested that we can go through both healthier times and even the times when things aren’t... Exactly good. I promise to occasionally fold your clothes if you'll promise me to start my car in the winter. I promise that I’ll cook you a warm dinner every evening as long as you'll promise me that you'll even come home." - You finished, cracking your mom again. She had her eyes already completely red and Hopper didn't even start. No-one knew what you're talking about, but that was what made the vows even funnier.

"Miss Y/N Y/L/N, soon to be Hopper. I know that I already promised you a lot of things and there will be more things to come, for sure. I have promised you a bed and I delivered it to you. I now promise you in front of everyone that I will repair you the gramophone every time you manage to break it again, I will paint every room in the pomelo color if you ask me to, I will fold my clothes and maybe try to do the laundry sometimes and mostly, I won't ever let anyone hurt you." - He looked you in the eyes, having you on the edge of crying as well. - "And if they will, I will hurt them back."

You both were shaking when you were putting on the rings. Hopper had almost broken your ginger, having you burst out with laughter. When you finally had it on, he kissed it with a warm smile, looking you in the eyes. You’ve done the same thing once you managed to slip it onto his hand. And the sweetest part was when you were finally allowed to kiss him. It was a miracle that you didn't swoop him off his feet since you pulled him down hungrily. They were right. Once the formalities were over and once you signed the piece of paper with both your former surname and the new one, the stress faded away. Happiness overtook the ruddle, having you live your best life.

And when you finally took the dress off, changing into a pair of jeans, your old Converse shoes, and a nice shirt, you were finally feeling it - not until the first dance, of course. The golden ring was looking spectacular on your left hand, being put directly above the silver one you've accepted twice. It also felt heavy, but that was a thing that will go away.

The party started great with you and Hopper taking all of the traditions that came with weddings - cutting the cake, breaking a plate, throwing your flower into the crowd of women, eating from one plate, dancing with Jim and your dad, opening the presents and cards... And of course, there there were the speeches.

Hands down, your parents’ speech made you cry. Aiden made you chuckle. The kids had the most chaotic speech of the evening, six of them trying to talk at one time. Jules told you not to be dumb and to listen to James, at which you rolled your eyes. Joyce made herself cry and Jim’s eyes water, while Jonathan and Nancy’s speech was more about wishing you luck. But Steve Harrington, boy oh boy, wasn’t he something? His speech left you crying.

"So, good evening everyone, my name’s Steve and I’m living in Hawkins since... Ever. And the thing I'm notoriously famous here is the way I was trying to win Mrs. Hopper for years. For your information, I was the best friend of her dearest brother and she often reminds of the times when she saw me running naked around their pool, so, thanks for destroying my self-confidence because no-one is better at it than you." - Steve started on a comedic note, having you laugh into James’ shoulder. He was laughing as well, smoking. - "I won't tell you more about my romantic failures, since, this evening is supposed to be a happy one." - Steve smiled and made you a toast. Nancy was worried that maybe, since he wasnt the best at this type of activity, he’ll say something about the second world war or that he'll start talking about his grandpa, but Jonathan just chuckled at that.

"And I can fell that it is a happy evening for everyone here. The food was great, the ceremony was sweet and you guys are the most adorable couple I've seen ’till this day. Thank you for allowing me to be here with you." - Steve ended and drank a bit of his champagne and so did you. But as always, there was something off about the taste. You frowned, trying to figure out what is wrong with it.

"What's that face for?" - Hopper whispered, kissing the top of your head.

"The wine and the cake... I don't know, Jim, it tasted way better when we were picking it." - You said honestly, having Jim nodding at your remark.

"If you don't like the taste, don't eat it and drink it. What about dance now when we’re done with the speeches? It was lovely, but my ass hurts." - James whispered again, having you laugh and nod. You danced the whole night, not having a single alcoholic drink. But Jules was a different story. Steve from biology had to walk her home because she wouldn't make it on her own. Most you loved dancing with the kids - these lunatics had such dance moves that you didn't know where they got it from, especially Lucas and Dustin.

It was a long day, but once Hopper carried you inside the house, you made exactly what newly wedded couple is supported to do once they arrive home. Eleven was staying at Wheeler’s, which was kind of a gift they gave you. Without telling too many details, you fucked in almost every room in the house, which left Hopper destroyed, laying in the bed at four a.m.

Yet you couldn't fall asleep. Why? Because while your hubby slept in your bed, your face was inside the toilette the whole time. And something on the back of your head was telling you that maybe, it isn't the nerves as Robin told you.

#jim hopper #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper x reader #james jim hopper #stranger things hopper #stranger things netflix #jim hopper stranger things #eleven hopper #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #joyce byers #james hopper #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #stranger things #sriracha #oh this chaos #I live for it

[franklyshipping]

Day 25 ~ Christmas 2019 Ego Fanfics

Well.....here we are. The 25th of December, Christmas Day. This isn't a full on fanfic to be honest, this is kind of an epilogue to everything I've posted this month. You're gonna see snippets of everyone on Christmas Day, and so I hope you enjoy it.....let's do it!

TAGGING: @anti-switch-glitch @bim-trimler @bimlee-trimmer @shawn-flynn-the-switch @goog-ler-iplier @robbie-lee-zombie @jack-leeboyman @silvlee-shepherd @yandere-ipli-ler @thehostofleetrature @ed-edlee @google-switchy-red @googlee-oliver @erik-lee-derekson @ericleederekson @googlee-green @thegoodnewsdoctler @doctoripliler @marvin-lee-magician  @marvinleemagician @marvin--the-magnificent @bingy-switch @bingylee @dr-schneeplestein @dr-schneeple-switch @bright-light-mark @kingoflesquirrel @king-of-lee-squirrels @chase-brodlee @darkipli-ler @darkipliler @giggles-and-pink-mustaches @wilford-lee-warfstache @the-authler @the-dapper-switch @its-lee-mad-mike

Plus, all the other characters included that don't have accounts in the community that I'm aware of: Harold B Darrensworth, Blankgameplays, Abe the Detective, Goopiplier, Kinkiplier, Benjamin the Butler, Gooper, Mini Bing, Angelicsepticeye, Angus the Survival Hunter, ~ Isaac Brody, Marceline Brody, Sofia Schneeplestein, Luca Schneeplestein (All first names are NOT CANON, I just made em up) ~ Madpat, Natemare, FNAF Night Guard, District Attorney (Y/N), and Celine ~~~ALSO PLEASE BE AWARE THAT I DON'T HAVE EVERY EGO IN THE TAGS BECAUSE I COULDN'T FIT THEM ALL!

Also, if anyone's interesting....the total word count for the series was 59,546.....wowie....okay, now onto the fic!

So…here we are, the day is at hand…I’m not going to go into detail because y’know, I want to leave them all to it, but I can set the scene for all of you. The main living room is full, and there’s nobody sat on their own…but it’s not overwhelming either. It’s just perfect.

First off, Harold was with Anti, curled up and giggling against his chest as the glitch smirked fondly down at him. Harold had never looked more dishevelled and out of order, but he was so damn happy. Anti had found a spare stream of emerald and silver tinsel, and was using it to tickle around Harold’s ears and neck….at Harold’s request. See, when they’d finally worked as a team, decorating together, and the more and more tinsel Harold felt….the more and more he wondered how it would feel at his tickle spots. Of course, Anti was more than eager to have the chance to tickle Harold again, and so was just enjoying the feeling of the flustered man giggling and squeaking into his chest….it was the most precious sight.

Then there was Bim and Shawn, who were sat with Google Blue and Blank. Shawn was blushing into Bim’s shoulder as Bim rambled on about the beauty of Shawn’s carving at the top of the tree, much to the fond amusement of Blue and Blank. The four of them shared a couch, with Bim, Shawn and Blue sitting, whilst Blank lay atop them with his feet in Google’s lap. Every few moments, as they listened to Bim, Google swiped his fingers up his boyfriend’s feet with a cheeky wink….because why the hell not.

Then we have Robbie and Jackie….surrounded by so much chocolate. So much. Robbie had already eaten so much of it that he was practically vibrating as babbled to and jostled the superhero, filled with giddy joy. Jackie of course was relishing in it, because Robbie was too darn cute and he adored him so much. Also, Jackie had the luxury of Robbie insisting on feeding him chocolates, I mean, how he could he refuse a) such a sweet offer, and b) Robbie’s adorable face? He just couldn’t.

Now, here we have our first cuddle pile consisting of a detective and a VERY snuggly polyamory. Consider Abe adopted. They’d found a particularly comfy rug together, engaging in a cuddly tickle-fest where no one was safe. Host would get tickles as punishment for his board game antics, Silver would get tickles just for being adorable, Yandere would get tickles when they were being a sassy brat, and Abe would get tickled by the whole poly because they loved to gang up on their loved ones. It was adorable.

Now, onto our next cuddle pile on another rug….where we have two blooming couples on our hands. Especially in Eric and Google Green’s case because Eric was insisting on never taking off his flower crown. He was snuggled into Green’s torso and softly nuzzling his core, purring at the warmth and giggling at how Green would twitch and blush. Then there were Google Red and Ed, the former lying on his brother’s legs whilst Ed basically lay upon Red’s whole body. Ed was nuzzling Red’s core, whilst smirking and playing footsie so he could watch his Google turn into flustered little cranberry.

Now, let us have some absolute cuties. In addition to his normal gag, a certain ego (Wilford) had gifted Kink a pair of cute, purple, glittery padded handcuffs….which he was now wearing after being persuaded by the doctor and the, supposedly, innocent android. Now, he was being subjected to the most debilitating, sadistic teases from the doctor in his ear as Oliver teased all his tickle spots, both of them cooing about how vulnerable he was and about how he loved it. They weren’t wrong, and Kink felt like they were the best gifts he could have asked for.

Now, this next group are a subtle group, nestled together on another couch covered in quilts and smiles. Mike was wearing one of Benjamin’s shirts as a pyjama shirt, whilst he fed Benjamin spoonfuls of his experimental festive ice creams. Gingerbread, Candy Cane, Christmas Pudding, there was a whole range…and Benjamin was in heaven. Meanwhile, Jamie was wearing Celine’s shawl over his pyjamas whilst Celine wore his Christmas jumper (which was adorned with a pattern of pocket watches wearing Santa hats). They were holding hands, fingers interlaced and legs entangled as they competed over who could give the tickliest of kisses. This was a contest that was to remain ongoing for a very, very long time.

Now, we have a playful revenge taking place. Mini Bing was squeaking and giggling on the floor in-between two people, encased by an amber mist….a tickling charm no less. Marvin’s eyes gleamed with fondness as he relaxed on the floor with Bing, who was snickering with satisfaction, both at the vengeance and at Marvin’s wonderful assistance. Not only this, but Bing was also playing with Marvin’s long hair because it was absolutely frickin rad and soft….and Marvin certainly didn’t complain.

Now we have our egos of the outdoors, the two angels, the hunter, and the King. King had allowed himself to be coaxed inside, and was happy he’d let it happen….because he’d met so many lovely people, as had his subjects. Some of them were occupying themselves with nuzzling the wings of Angelo and Angie, who were both in happy stitches from it all. The King himself was giggling too, because Angus had decided to playfully try and lick off some of his peanut butter beard, and it was the cutest, giddiest battle of all time.

Here now, we have a father, son, and that son’s newest unlikely godfather. Schneeple was regretting his decision a tad though, because now said godfather (the Author) was sat on top of him and attempting to coach Luca in the arts of tickle torture. However, the little boy was only really interested in giggling his heart out every time his father laughed….so Schneeple was getting wrecked by the Author, but everybody was having a hell of a lot of happy fun. Also, having his daughter Sofia heckling him and teasing him along with Madpat certainly helped….make it even more fun.

We have another father too….also being completely and utterly ganged up on. With Isaac sat on his chest, Mare straddling his waist, and Marceline pinning his hands….it’s made Chase’s face oh so wonderfully vulnerable. Mare was smirking down at the dad as Marceline fluttered her make-up brushes all over Chase’s cheeks, and every time he squealed, Isaac clapped his hands giddily. This was frankly horrendously cute, I think you can all agree.

To a more intimate pair now. Yanan and Guard shared an armchair, and the former was really blushing up a storm. Guard was teasing them, relentlessly purring in their ear about all the ways he was going to tickle them and make them smile and feel all warm and flustered inside. Yanan loved every second. They gasped when he talked about nibbling their ribs for Christmas Dinner they squeaked when he teased about teasing their bare feet….and they squealed and hid in his chest when Guard simply cooed about how much cute mirth he was going to coax from their pretty lips. It was beautiful.

And now, our final group….oh what a myriad. First, we have all the Jims, and a group of Jims I believe is called….a Jim. A Jim of Jims. Well, three of them were clamouring to Dark whilst the youngest blushed. Reporter Jim’s brothers were gushing about the gift album he’d made to Dark, and Dark was just enjoying hearing about such a loving deed….and smirking at the flustered Jim, winking at him occasionally because he was an evil shit who wanted to keep him blushing for as long as possible. There was another young man blushing too, namely Goop….who was being frantically hugged by a squealing Wilford Warfstache who had just opened his lava lamp gift. So much love, so little anxiety.

Then….there’s our guy. Our glob. Our globbins. Our goop. Our gloop. Our goopy. Our Gooper. Going round from ego to ego, person to person, child to child….and being given so much love that he didn’t know what to do with it all. Cuddles, tickles, kisses, nuzzles, pokes, coos, kind words….there was just so much love. However you should know, that Gooper had no festive duties today, the egos had insisted upon it. From chef to Santa to present bearer to comfort giver to cook to organiser….he’d done it all, and now it was time for him to relax and enjoy everything the day had to offer…..and he did. Everyone did.

Well....that's it. I really hope you guys enjoyed this, I know I have. I urge you to please reblog and comment or send me an ask telling me what you thought of this Christmas series....it would honestly mean the world to me. Luv yous xx

#sfw #day 25 #christmas 2019 #dr iplier #anti #bim #googles #abe #host #yandere #jims #marvin #robbie #bing #jackie #silver #ed #eric #chase #schneep #ego fic #dark #wilford #celine #jamie #tickle fic #platonic #romantic #familial #fluff

[bald-tales]

Witness Protection at the Bears Den - by Titan

Part 4  “What the hell!”cried Dan, jumping up from his chair, “What do you think your doing Ken?” He quickly moved over to Ken who was standing beside the heavy chrome Barber’s Chair. Ken was screwing the top on what Dan realised now, was a bottle of chloroform, after having emptied a few drops on the towel covering Jerrod’s face. The chair was still fully reclined – up until now; Dan had been enjoying himself watching his boss get a makeover! He couldn’t get over the radical Mohawk with shaved sides his boss was now sporting. In fact, he’d been getting off on it, unbuttoning his pants and letting his 9 inch boner out so he could stroke it whilst watching the haircut proceed.  “Relax Dan!” said Ken, placing his large hand on his friends shoulder, “I know what I’m doing.”  “But you’re going too far; this guys my boss.”  “Yeah mate, and you’ve been bitchin about him as long as I can remember. About him giving you nothing but agro, always stealing your ideas!” continued Ken, his tone sounding angry. “ Wouldn’t you like to get back at him?”  “Well yes, sure!. But not like this Ken.” Dan said excitedly, tucking his exposed cock back into his pants.  “Why not like this? You sure looked like you were enjoying yourself over there.” Ken went on, motioning towards Dan’s hard-on.  “Surely your not doing this, just for me?” replied a slightly embarrassed Dan.  “No Dan, admittedly there is another reason.”  “What do you mean?”  Ken went on, “I recognised Jerrod’s name as soon as you introduced him.”  Dan’s eyes widened, “You mean you know him?”  “Know of him to be more correct. We’ve never met before, but he and Bart have.”  Ken continued as Dan looked more and more stunned. “You see, about 7 years ago, Bart was working for a top IT company in Northern California. He was into one of the other guys whom he had seen at one of the local gay bars a few times. This guy continually ignored Bart, or told him to quit bothering him. This guys name was Jerrod. He knew he had the looks and he always played on that. He told Bart he wasn’t into leather types, he found that whole scene disgusting, and this was about the same time Bart was starting to experiment with the leather scene. It wasn’t long before Jerrod got a promotion- in charge of Bart’s department. Well, this angered Bart even more, as he’d been next in line, however Jerrod had spread some lies about Bart’s ‘alternative’ lifestyle, which ruined his chances. Jerrod kept dumping all the work he couldn’t handle on Bart’s desk. He had to put in more and more hours to get it all done, while Jerrod got the credit for the work he had slaved over. Anyway , Bart had been a customer of mine for some time, and I had been making Bart try different hairstyles. Got him to grow a decent beard to go with the H’n’T flattop I’d been styling. Jerrod told him to get rid of the beard, and to get his haircut into a more conservative look. Bart, too embarrassed to come to me, went to another Barber and had the beard shaved off, and his hair styled into a short crew-cut.  Well, a few months latter, Jerrod decided to go against his boss, and when he returned from holidays, he had grown a mustache similar to the one on Jerrod now. I had shaved his head bald, as he was looking to completely change his conservative look. It went well with the tan he had got on his holidays. Finally we pierced his ears, and two small gold rings appeared in each earlobe. When Bart turned up for work, Jerrod said that was the last straw. The big, fat balded Biker look, was too freaky for the office, Bart was out.  I told him he could have fought it as I was pretty sure it was unfair dismissal, he just said to leave it. He was miserable, and it took him along time to get over the whole thing. Anyway we started getting closer, and that was when I asked him if he’d like to come into a partnership with me, to buy the run-down bar nextdoor – the rest is history as they say. I always told Bart, his old boss would get ‘his’ one day! That day has finally come, and I think a leather biker, is great revenge, don’t you Dan?”  “Unbelievable story,” Dan answered, “I never knew much about Jerrod’s past – he always kept to himself at work.”  “You can trust me it’s all true!” Ken replied.  “But you’re ruining a great business opportunity – you could make a lot of money having Jerrod on side.”  “And I still will Dan my boy. It’s just that Jerrod, though technically in charge of your department, will be leaving the day to day running of it to you.”  Dan asked, “but how? I mean won’t he go to his superiors or even the cops!”  “No he wont, friend, “ continued Ken pointing to the large LCD television on the back wall, “and that’s the reason.”  Dan had noticed the new TV earlier, but hadn’t had time to comment about it with all the excitement of the last few hours.  “A recent acquisition through a very good friend, along with the modified barbers chair. It’s all cost me a small fortune just to satisfy my hobby, but it’s really going to be worth it now!” Ken laughed as he brought the chair around so Dan could study the back. Dan’s eyes widened as he saw a complex unit in the back of the chair containing a small led screen with a series of switches around it. Seeing Dan’s interest Ken went over to the TV and flipped a switch on the side where a small DVD disc ejected.” This is what I used on Lucas. This TV contains 30 different DVDs; all of which I can control remotely from the chair. The technology behind this is actually from NASA, something they were experimenting with a few years back. An ex of mine, in their employ, decided to finish the project, of course it wasn’t a mind control machine originally. This guy knew my interest in mind manipulation, and offered me a good price.”  “Are there others that know of this machines existence?” asked a more interested Dan.  “No, let’s just say my test case was my ex – it wasn’t a good split originally. You’ve actually met him; his names Cooper!”  “You mean the old guy that helps around the bar on weekends?” asked Dan, his voice wavering.  “The one and only”, answered Ken, looking more satisfied than ever.  Dan was more and more intrigued. It looked like Ken had the means to rid him of his obnoxious boss and what’s more, Dan would finally have the control of his department that was owed him. How strange, Dan smiled to himself - looking down at the sleeping Jerrod- this was the same guy who was continually telling Dan to lose some weight and grow some hair on his head. Then he wouldn’t look like such a thug. “Well, look whose looking like a thug now.” Dan said out loud.  “Hmm, what was that?” asked Ken, beginning to make some adjustments to the chair control panel.  “Just thinking about all the great things we could do with that machine of yours Ken.”  Ken knew Dan was seeing his way now. “Yeah Dan, and we can enjoy ourselves along the way. Jerrod’s going to join us on our little adventure too, whether he wants to or not.”  Ken started to remove the towels that had been on Jerrod’s face. Dan now had a closer look at Jerrod. He was already on the way to looking freakier, and Dan had seen what Ken was capable of with Lucas. His friendship with the big, burly Barber went back to when they were in college – he trusted Ken.  “Hell! Let’s do it,” Dan suddenly said.  Reclining the chair once more , Ken replied, “Okay then. Let’s do something about that pissy little excuse for a moustache. Jerrod was very insistent we not shave it off, so seeing he likes it so much, let’s give him one he can be proud of.” And with that, Ken grabbed a bottle from a nearby cabinet, that seemed to contain dozens of jars and bottles. Dan watched by the side of the chair as Ken applied the contents of the bottle to Jerrod’s neat, blond moustache, rubbing it in to the roots. Next he grabbed another unbranded bottle of green liquid. “Some of my home-made herbals,” Ken said looking up at Dan.  This liquid was very oily looking and as Ken applied it, the green oil seem to stay thickly where it was applied. Ken carefully spread it along the jaw and chin area, up onto the cheeks, up to the top of each ear. He then said, “a formula that thickens and increases hair follicles, the other I used on his face, accelerates hair growth.”  “Maybe you should patent that for the ‘hair replacement industry’, you’d be rich overnight!” Dan said.  “Yeah, but too many of us would stop shaving our heads then, there would be no such thing as MPB. Don’t think I’d like to contribute to that Dan. Besides, at the moment it doesn’t grow hair where there are no neighbouring follicles.”  Next Ken got Dan to help him undress the sleeping captive. He cut most of Jerrod’s designer gear away with huge scissors. “He certainly has a great body under all these clothes, he must spend a lot of time at the gym,” Ken commented, running a finger down Jerrod’s tight abs.  Now with his body exposed, Ken, applied the green oily liquid to Jerrod’s chest and abdomen area, his pubes and balls, down his legs, up his arms, but left the back and arse free. “This kid was way too smooth, nothing to shave! This way we can decide where he needs barbering and where he doesn’t.” Ken said as he put the empty bottle down and produced a syringe from a small box in a counter drawer. Jabbing him in the arm, he emptied the contents into Jerrod’s bloodstream. “ Now you’ll love this Dan, I’ve mixed a combination of growth steroids with high calorie weight gainer, much like we use in the beer next door. Now let’s leave him to develop while we go grab a beer; I’d like to tell Bart about my new customer.”  “How long will he be out?” asked Dan.  “Oh, hours, I put a strong sedative in that shot as well”.  Dan was impressed, Ken was definitely a clever and organised guy.  Part 5  The bar next door to the Barbershop, discreetly located down a flight of stairs, was starting to get busy. Known as the ‘Bears Den’, this was the bar that was jointly owned by Ken and Bart, although Bart ran the day to day side of things. Ken and Dan were filling in Bart on what had been happening next door, whilst downing a couple of frosty beers. Bart just couldn’t believe it, his former boss next-door at this very moment. And not only that but he was getting one of Ken’s “special” haircuts. “ This I’ve got to see for my……..”, Bart said with a grin from ear to ear.  “Now hold your horses Boy! Not just yet,” Ken interrupted, “You’ve got to stay and look after the customers, besides, his out cold. Just stay here and I’ll bring him out when his ‘finished’.  Bart reluctantly obeyed his partner, but he knew he was in for a good night!  The two friends returned upstairs to the shop, after a few hours, and Dan couldn’t believe the change already in Jerrod’s face and body. Jerrod’s moustache had thickened and spread down over the sided of his mouth in an untidy fu-manchu style.  “Now that’s a more manly moustache”, said Ken examining his handiwork. Dan couldn’t believe the other changes ether. Where the oil had been used to stimulate hair follicle growth, was indeed hair! A very thick dark five o’clock shadow was evident on the previously smooth, boyish skin. The oil had done the same for the rest of his body, there was the beginnings of hair growth all over the legs, arms chest and abdomen, tiny dark hairs at the moment, but very dark and very numerous. Dan also noticed Jerrod’s whole body seemed to have bulked up, the face was fuller, a small double chin was evident, his stomach had lost that tautness’ he’d earned in the gym, and his pecs seemed to be flabbier. “He’s looking better already, don’t you think?” said Ken grinning.  “You really are a magician Ken, I mean this has all just happened in a couple of hours,” replied Dan.  “Now we need to trim up that moustache and maybe give him some more facial hair, he’s not quite ‘bear’ material yet’. Ken set to work using the lotion that accelerated hair growth, on the dark stubble on Jerrod’s chin. Next he rubbed it all over Jerrod’s chest down his abs into his bush and into his ball sacks. He continued to use enormous quantities of the thick, green liquid on the legs and arms. “If he want’s a body shave, there’s going to be plenty to keep my razor busy”, Ken said staring up at Dan. When he’d finished, he applied some of the liquid to Jerrod’s Mohawk saying, “I think he needs a bit more length up here don’t you?”  “Yeah”, said Dan, “make him into one freaky, looking biker”.  “As you wish”, replied Ken who was now wheeling over a small cart to the chair.”At least he won’t feel this,” Taking a needle-gun, Ken pierced each ear-lobe, and inserted two large gauge silver rings in each. Next he went for the left eyebrow, fastening a large barbell. He pierced the bottom lip, and used a spike here. “Now for those boy nipples”, Ken said as he used some forceps before piercing each nipple. Now Jerrod had 6 gauge silver rings hanging amongst his steadily growing chest hair.  “Fucking amazing!” Dan muttered, “He’s lost that yuppie executive look for good.”  “How about a nice Prince Albert, “ returned Ken, more to himself than to Dan. Before long Jerrod was sporting a large ring through his piss hole.  “Any more?”, asked Ken.  “What about his nose?”, offered Dan, really enjoying himself now.  “Okay Dan”, and with that Ken pierced the septum. “Let’s try a silver tusk”, and Ken pushed a long metal tusk through the piercing. “Hmm! I still have a few rings left” and with that, Ken pierced the whole outer left ear. Soon Jerrod was wearing 10 small rings in their place. “Perfect”, said Ken as he packed up his equipment.  Next thing, Ken’s wheeling over his tattoo equipment, “I think this biker needs a little ink,” said Ken as he fired up the machine and began to freehand the outline of some barbed wire around Jerrod’s bicep. The high pitched buzz of the needle filled the shop, as Ken continued to permanently mark the virgin skin. As the time ticked by, Jerrod’s tattoos were gradually filled in and coloured. Turning the needle off, Ken wiped his brow and stretching said, “That took some doing but that will do for now. We can add to them latter. Besides the barbed wire on the biceps, Ken had added a snake design down his left forearm. On his chest he had old English writing that said, ‘Barbers razor boy’, with a Barbers pole drawn over his left pec.  Dan never realised how good a tattoo artist Ken was. “Your talents are even more remarkable than I first thought!”, said Dan as he examined the tattoo on the chest.  “Well, I had a bit of practice. Where do you think all Bart’s body art comes from?”  replied Ken as he went to the small bar fridge in the corner.”How about a brew? This transformation stuff sure works up a thirst!”  As they drank their beers Dan pointed to Jerrod’s face, “That hair growth goop you used on the chin and hawk has sure kicked in.”.  The Mohawk had grown in length, now falling over the shaved areas. A thick blond goatee, had formed on the chin, along with the increasing thickness of the mo, totally changed Jerrod’s look. Jerrod’s body was covered in hair now, thick and course, everywhere except the tattooed areas, which Ken had dry shaved. It didn’t matter too much as those areas would soon have hair growing back in a matter of an hour or so.  “Now to clean him up a little,” Ken said starting up his lather machine. Taking a pair of small high-pitched trimmers, Ken started on the now incredibly thick moustache, revealing Jerrod’s top lip again. He then fashioned the goatee into a more manicured style, where it didn’t join the moustache but was left with a tail back under the chin and following the jaw line, finishing at the ears. Taking a straight razor after applying warm lather to Jerrod’s face, Ken carefully shaved over the stubble he’d trimmed down. He fashioned a designer stubble on the side levers, cheeks leaving a precise line between the stubble and the shaved parts. He shaved the neck clean and stood back to look at his work. Taking a jar of moustache wax, he spread it through the long luxurious moustache, fashioning it into a walrus look. “Now that’s a tache”, said Ken. “He’s like a yuppy biker now! What do you think Dan?”  “Well, I for one thinks he looks a lot better – but I don’t think Jerrod would agree.”  “Let’s see then”, he said smiling, as he raised the chair upright. Ken then got some leather restraints and got Dan to help him apply them to Jerrod’s wrists and legs, with an additional one around the upper chest. “Just for insurance”, said Ken. “now what about a cigar, Dan while we wait for this stud to come round?”  It had been a fair while since Dan had enjoyed a decent cigar, “Sure, I will if you will.”  Both Bears were soon puffing away on a couple of Cubans. 

[formerlyjannafaye]

Arcades & Ice Cream

Pairing: Lumax

Word Count: 1,776

Notes: I have never written Lumax before so I hope I did okay and they aren’t too OOC! I wrote this fic for my bae @rhapsodyinblueyellowgreen to celebrate her return to Tumblr and for finishing school! SO PROUD OF YOU GRACE! This one’s for you.

READ ON AO3

"Yes!" Max cheered, turning away from Dig Dug, her face triumphant and her arms raised in the air.

She had just beaten her best ever score, and was at the top of the leader board once again. Still full of elation, she bopped along to the game’s music, pointing what were supposed to be mocking fingers in her boyfriend’s face.

But Lucas didn’t seem to notice or care, and hadn't moved from his position beside her, his chin resting in his palm, a dopey grin on his face. It was her fault, he decided, that he was so distracted. She had worn her yellow sweater today, his favorite, and her eyes were bright and shining with confidence. And now the sweetest flush was taking over her cheeks and down her neck, and her lips, her lips were moving, they were oh shit she was talking to him and he was spaced out like a dork, right?

"Take a picture Stalker, it will last longer," Max quipped, a smile tugging at her lips. "Hello, earth to Lucas."

"Sorry," Lucas mumbled, still a bit dazed. "You're just cute when you're excited."

"You mean, I'm just cute when I'm kicking your ass!" Max teased, bumping her shoulder into his.

Her teasing snapped him out of his trance. "Kicking my ass?"

"Mhmm."

Lucas’ eyes moved up to the screen and saw MADMAX flashing across the top of the leader board. Damn it. He swallowed with determination. "Okay Mayfield, it's on. Step aside. The real ass kicking is about to begin."

Lucas took his place at the machine, stretched his neck from side to side, slapped his cheeks and then popped the quarters into the machine. Max rolled her eyes.

"All the warm ups in the world aren't going to help you here, Sinclair. This is my house."

"We'll see about that," huffed Lucas, flexing his fingers against the game top before tightly grasping the orange joystick.

The game began and a determined look came across Lucas’ face; his jaw was set, his feet firmly planted, his eyes unmoving. Since he had started dating Max, he had put in more hours on Dig Dug than any other game at the arcade, determined to keep up with his girlfriend (making Dustin sweat as he enclosed on his friend’s score was an added bonus). The time he had put in had been worth it, and Max was impressed by how much he had improved.

Max watch him as he played, noting how cute it was that he was so serious about it. He could tell this was something that interested her, and so he took a greater interest in it himself. That was so like Lucas – he was so considerate, and more perceptive then most guys his age, and a really good listener. He’s also really cute, Max mused, smirking at the way he unconsciously stuck out his tongue slightly in concentration.

Her eyes traveled down his face to his jaw, tense above his collared shirt. She shook her head slightly – of course Lucas wore a collared shirt and a nice jacket for their date at the arcade.  She thought of her own outfit, jeans and her faded yellow sweatshirt, and had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. To outside eyes they must have looked like quite a pair – for a variety of reasons – but she really didn’t care. She loved that Lucas didn’t seem to care either.

The intensity of the game music picked up, drawing her attention back to the screen, where she watched Lucas expertly maneuver through a difficult section. It was always hard to watch someone else play - she never knew what to do with her hands - so she absentmindedly started fidgeting with her hair, twisting it into a thick rope in front of her left shoulder.

Her eyes moved up to the top of the screen...oh shit, was that his score already? That won't do. That won’t do at all.

Max stopped playing with her hair and tossed it to her back, then changed her position to stand behind Lucas.

This wasn’t fair, maybe, but it was fun.

Slowly, as to not startle him too badly, she slipped her arms around his waist. Lucas inhaled sharply in surprise. “Max,” he complained.

“What?” she asked innocently. Her breath on the back of his neck made him jerk abruptly.

“Hey! I’m onto you! You’re trying to dis-” he flinched again as she squeezed him gently, “d-distract me. It won’t work.”

“Is that a challenge?” she asked, before leaning in close and pointedly blowing on the back of his neck. It was kind of fun, she thought, watching goosebumps emerge all over his neck.

Lucas yelped. “Max! Not cool! Stop it!”

“WWWhat?” she teased, expelling as much air onto his neck as she could with each word. “You wwwant me to stop?”

“Nononononono,” Lucas yelled at the game, as he was about to lose. “No! Aw, sh-”

Suddenly Lucas threw his head back, connecting with Max’s forehead with a smack. “SHIT!” they yelled simultaneously, each cradling their heads in their hands.

“Lucas!” Max snapped. “What the hell?”

“Sorry, are you okay?” he asked, turning to look at her. “I had just lost, and I couldn’t think, and I didn’t realize you were that close to me.” He touched her forehead, rubbing the red spot between her eyes with his thumb, before frowning at her. “You shouldn’t have been doing that anyway. I lost because of you, and now you’re hurt.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, struck by how his first instinct was to apologize and make sure she was okay, even though he was mad. She still wasn’t used to that, and it made her feel like a jerk sometimes. “I was just trying to be funny.”

They looked at each other, both still holding their heads when suddenly Max grabbed Lucas by the sleeve.

“Lucas! Lucas! LOOK! You beat him! You beat Dustin’s score!”

Lucas whipped his head around to look at the game. There it was, MADMAX at the top, with LUCAS flashing underneath.

“I-I did it!” Lucas gasped. “I DID IT!”

He picked Max up by the waist and spun around, whooping all the while. Once he put her down she shook him by the shoulders, laughing. “I knew you could do it!”

He beamed at her, and that’s when she knew she was forgiven. But just to be sure she had a peace offering. “Come on, Stalker, lets get ice cream to celebrate. My treat.”

This was a good way to end the day – hands clasped together, walking slowly down the sidewalk, licking ice cream cones, enjoying the cold treat and the company.

“So, are you gonna tell Dustin about your score?”

“Nah, I think I’ll just let him figure it out when he goes to the arcade tomorrow. He’s gonna lose his shit,” Lucas laughed. He took another lick of his ice cream, and this time Max was the one to laugh.

“Whaw?” he asked, his mouth full.

“You just…you look so pretty with that nice pink ice cream in your hand,” Max laughed. “Are you gonna share the rest with Erica when you get home?”

“HEY!” Lucas stopped in his tracks, shocked by her mocking. “Its not my fault that strawberry ice cream is the best ice cream, and that it just happens to be pink, okay?”

“Not just pink, but like, pale pink. Like, little baby pink,” Max giggled, tugging his arm in an attempt to get him walking again. Lucas reluctantly let himself be pulled along, then straightened his shoulders and confidently licked his ice cream cone again.

“My ice cream may be pink,” he crowed, “but at least it didn’t give me a dark brown mustache.”

It was Max’s turn to stop dead in her tracks, nearly dropping her chocolate ice cream. She let go of Lucas’ hand, gasping and slapping a hand over her mouth.

“Are you serious?” she asked, horrified, her voice muffled by her hand.

Lucas laughed, and Max scrubbed her fingers over her mouth hurriedly. She smacked him in the arm. “You could’ve told me sooner!”

Lucas rubbed his arm where she had hit him and said, “It wasn’t that bad, and besides, it was kind of cute.”

“It was NOT cute,” Max protested, her hand hovering over her lip. “Did I get it all? Is it gone?”

Lucas looked intently at her face, moving to stand directly in front of her. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked at her worried gaze.

“You have some – no, let me get it – right…here,” he said, slowly moving his thumb across her top lip before cupping her cheek and pressing his lips on hers in a sweet kiss.

“There, that’s better,” he said after he had pulled away, before his smooth façade wore off and he ducked his head with sudden shyness. Max’s own cheeks were aflame and she stared at her sneakers before reaching for his hand and resuming their walk home.

A block later, Lucas broke the comfortable silence surrounding them. “You’re awfully quiet, Mad Max. I thought I’d be getting ripped the whole way home, since you still have the high score on Dig Dug. Cat got your tongue?”

He glanced over at her to see her cheeks were still flushed, and she smiled, glancing towards the street before looking his way. Her blue eyes shone at him, but not in the teasing way they had earlier. She looked at him with a different emotion, one he couldn’t quite place but it made his heart skip a beat nonetheless.

Max looked at Lucas and opened her mouth to retort back, but found she couldn’t. This boy, who was the perfect combination of teasing and sweet, who wore collared shirts to the arcade and looked at her in her faded sweatshirt like she was the sun, this boy chose to hold her hand and kiss her lips and listen to her whether she spilled secrets or talked smack. She didn’t get why he did, but she felt so thankful. Thankful, and suddenly shy, like if she said the wrong thing she’d wake up from what she was sure was a dream.

So Max swallowed the lump that was inexplicably in her throat and tore her eyes away from Lucas’ before they gave away too much. 

“Shut up, Stalker,” she supplied lamely in response, a smile in her voice as he squeezed her hand tighter. She leaned her head on his shoulder and he smiled as they slowed their pace.

They were in no rush to get home.

Tag list: @strange-thangs @thezoomermax @freshxbloom @jane-el-hopper @puzzlingsnark @hannahberrie @stevemossington @maxmayfield @adam00rose @maplestreet83 @janeswheeler

#stranger things fan fic #lumax fanfiction #lumax #fan fiction #my writing #i wrote this for grace #because she loves lumax so much #i hope i captured their competitiveness and playfulness #that was the goal #sorry for the lame title #titles are hard

[professional-anti]

Chapter Eight: Weapon of Choice

Heyyyyy!! Sorry, life has been cray, and it’s never gonna change, unfortunately. But guys, dw, I am dedicated. Also, weirdly, doing this has made me appreciate books even more? It’s so much fun to talk abt books, and I learn so much, even if it’s a book I hate. Okay, getting started (pray for me):

We last left off with Clary jumping thru the surprise door, like one does. Jace lands on top of her, yay, OTP moment, gag me. There’s a nice little detail where “Clary coughed hair (not her own) out of her mouth” which kind of captures the chaos and would be cute if it were an actual good ship. I hate when that happens. Jace criticizes Clary, FINALLY for a valid reason.

It turns out they’re at Luke’s house. Oh, classic, he lives in Williamsburg, the gentrified hipster paradise. Where else would a man who wears flannel live? Even more classic, he lives behind a bookstore. Clare is obviously one of those heavy-handed authors who has exactly two professions for her Intellectual Men™: bookseller and evil Giles.

I’m going to shake Clary. She doesn’t know why they’re here, despite having thought “I want to go where my mom would have gone” right before jumping. Like, bitch??? Do you have a brain? I’m cryingfff

Clary decides she wants to leave, even though there’s cleary something super sketch abt Luke. He’s so obviously protecting her, so he must know something, right? Well, Clary rubs her two brain cells together and decides, nope, nothing to see here! Time to go home!

Jace, being reasonable for once, is like, yo, maybe we should stay. They run into Simon, so you know there’s gonna be Dramaz. Jace and Simon apparently devolve into primordial wild dogs driven by the intense urge to fight for the girl dog so they can screw and produce puppies that are as annoying as they are. Here is what everyone is doing:

Clary is fixing Simon’s hair bc she’s a Woman Simon is pushing Clary’s hand away bc he’s Annoyed Jace is using his stele to file his nail bc he’s Not Paying Attention

There’s some horrible forced tension between Simon and Clary, where he’s all, “Clary, you ran away from me, I thought I and my dick upset you,” and Clary’s all, “Never, Simon, I love you,” and Simon cums. Not actually, instead he slut shames Clary:

“Yeah, well, you clearly also couldn’t be bothered to call me and tell me you were shacking up with some dyed-blond wanna-be goth you probably met at Pandemomonium”

On the one hand, draaaaag him, Simon!! Jace IS a peroxide blond who listens Evanescence (I almost wrote MCR before googling it and learning that if I wrote that, about a million punks would stream into my inbox in tears).

Simon’s eyes are “dark with suspicion”. which is just annoying. Yes, I would be so fucking annoyed if my friend ran out on me and then disappeared and then reappeared with a blond guy. But I’d also do some more questioning of the situation. Is she okay? Why is she with such a rude guy? Is he hurting her? Was she kidnapped? Is she being held against her will? Is this a drug thing? Does she need my help? Why did Luke cover for her? Is something deeper going on? Instead Simon is all possessive Nice Guy.

Apparently Simon spied on Luke packing a duffel bag of weapons. So he couldn’t give Clary any benefit of the doubt? It sounds like her family is caught in a bad situation! Maybe she had to hide for her life! Simon, use your brain!!

kajlkfaklsdjfalksdflk Clary tells Simon everything, and Simon asks if they kill all these different magical creatures, and Jace says ONLY WHEN THEY’VE BEEN NAUGHTY a;dlfjals;kdjfl;asdjfl;aksdjf hahahahahahahah This image that Clare is going for is just sooooo overdrawn. This dialogue, omfg.

Simon loses his mind and excitedly compares everything that’s been going on to D&D. Let’s totally forget abt the fact that Clary’s mom is missing, or that Luke just filled a duffel bags with murder sticks, shall we?

Jace and Simon have a bizarre conversation, and then they walk. In. The. Back. Door. Bc Luke doesn’t lock his back door. Bc that’s totally not something that someone who fills a duffel bag with weapons would do. At least the door to the bookstore is locked, though Jace opens it pretty easily with his stele. Why didn’t Luke have Jocelyn fix up some wards or something?

Simon asks Clary how she stands Jace, and she’s like “he saved me life” and he’s like “huh?” even though she told him everything that happened. Why is Simon so dumb. I guess all his blood is in his dick? Wouldn’t surprise me.

They find manacles in the wall, so either Luke and Jocelyn have (even more) hidden depths, or Luke practices

Luke’s apartment is filled with books. Of course. Look, I love books. I have about 500 in my room at this moment. I buy them constantly, I get from the libarary, I read and read and read. I think most of us on booklr do. But when every single Good Character in your book has books, it’s boring. And no one has unique book taste. What if all of Luke’s books were nature books? Jack London? Travel guides? That would paint a picture. Instead he has a bunch of fantasy and other fiction. That’s boring. I learn nothing, bc every goddamn person in this goddamn book reads fantasy. It’s so fucking generic. I totally approve of “good” characters admiring and liking reading bc that’s how you get ideas, and that’s how Lemony Snicket rolls, but there are more books than fantasy and mystery (the other main type that Lucas has) in the world. Justice Strauss has an inexhaustive library. Uncle Monty has all those books about snakes. Lucky Smells just has that one history of Lucky Smells. Already, you know so much abt each person (and place) by what books they have. We learn nothing about Luke.

Clary finds the overnight bag she leaves at Luke’s and changes clothes. I mention this only bc she puts on “a blue tank top with a design of Chinese characters across the front” bc of COURSE she is That Bitch. I hope it translates to something like “Radishes” or “Bridge”.

Luke’s bedroom has a shelf of “Indian statues and Russian icons” which, idk, makes me a little uncomfortable. These sound like things that are holy to someone. But I think the worst part is that Clary says, “Luke collects stuff. Art objects. You know … Pretty things.” I just googled it, and Hindu statues, like the one Luke has of Kali, are seen as actual avatars of gods. Clary is diminishing someone’s god to a “pretty thing”. It’s not a nick-nack or a trinket. (If you know more abt this, like if I’m wildly off-base, feel free to send me an ask!)

Jace finds the Metaphor known as a smashed picture of Luke, Jocie, and Clary, which Clary threw at the Ravener in her apartment, so realize that Luke went back through the apartment. Jace says that Luke must have gone through the Portal-potty last, so it brought them here. I’m still team Clary Asked to Go Where Her Mother Would Have Gone and Therefore the Portal did What it Was Supposed to Do and Brought Her Where She Wanted.

Luke and some warlocks show up, so Clary and co. hide behind the super convenient silk screen. Jace uses his sonic stele to make the screen transparent and we get this gem:

Jace shook his head at them both, mouthing words: They can’t see us through it, but we can see them.

Bc mouthing works that well. You don’t mouth compound sentences!! You mouth something simple like they can’t see us. Simon and Clary already know they can see Luke and the warlocks bc they’re looking at them right now! And this spell or whatever that Jace did takes the tension in the scene waaaaaay down. If they can’t see Luke, then everything becomes more tense. Are the voices getting closer to the screen? Is somebody about to reveal them? Instead, all the tension is drained in a dumb quick-fix.

Bc Clare thinks we’re stupid, she adds “It was frightening even though [Clary] knew [Luke] couldn’t see her, that the window Jace had made was like the glass in a police station interrogation room: strictly one-way.”

GD ARE YOU THERE??????? STOP THIS.

Jace realizes that the warlocks are actually Shadowhunters dressed as warlocks. Idk how he can tell, but whatever. He conveys this by whispering, so I don’t know what the mouthing nonsense was earlier.

The Shadowhunters are named Blackwell (redhead) and Pangborn (gray mustache). What sorts of names. It’s like Clare used a fantasy-name-generator. Who are we kidding, that’s totally what she did. Pangborn picks up the Kali statue and this conversation happens:

“Ah,” said Pangborn, taking the statue from his companion. “She who was created to battle a demon who could not be killed by any god or man. ‘Oh, Kali, my mother full of bliss! Enchantress of the almighty Shiva, in they delirious joy thou dancest, clapping thy hands together. Thou art the Mover of all that moves, and we are but thy helpless toys.’” “Very nice,” said Luke. “I didn’t know you were a student of the Indian myths.” “All the stories are true,” said Pangborn, and Clary felt a small shiver go up her spine. “Or have you forgotten even that?” “I forget nothing,” said Luke.

So the Shadowhunter mythology is that all religions are true? Inch resting. I vaguely remember this. Idk how I feel about this. The Shadowhunters are still gonna be super Christian no matter what lip-service Clare pays to other religions. She has angels! And demons! She’s trying to be inclusive, but it’s never really gonna work, bc she’s doing it in name only. But at the same time, I wouldn’t want her to mess with any religion but Christianity or, sigh, Judaism. Christianity bc it’s the dominant religion and can’t be marginalized (different denominations can be, but not Christianity as a whole) and Judaism bc she’s Jewish. There’s not very much Jewish in these books, though. Yeah, there are angels in Judaism, but it’s not really the Jewish Vibe. A book influenced by Judaism would have a lot of magic based on specific wording, and arguments, and Hebrew and Hebrew-derived languages. This book uses Latin and is into angels. It’s Christian-influenced, which is fine, I guess, but the lip-service to other religions doesn’t ring true. But also, saying “Christianity is the one religion!” is super upsetting and she shouldn’t do that. I don’t really know where I’m going with this, I’m literally thinking on the page. Do you guys have any thoughts on this? Please hit up my ask box or talk about this in the notes! This discussion really interests me, and I want to get diverse opinions.

Luke asks if Valentine sent them (he did) and if their clothes “are official Accord robes” “from the Uprising?” (they are). Wow. The Uprising. What a descriptive name! We don’t call things “the Uprising” in real life. It’s more like, “The French Revolution.” “The Cultural Revolution.” “The Revolutionary War.” “The Civil War.” Am I being unfair?” I guess someone right after one of the French Revolutions might just say “the Revolution.” But something about The Uprising is so boring. And aren’t there more than one Uprising? There should be. The Warlock Uprising. The Vampire Uprising. It doesn’t have to be all internal. Any organized group would rise against the Clave. The Clave is legit the worst.

It turns out Luke’s real name is Lucian AND. I. AM. DYING. Luke is Lucius Malfoy, confirmed!! Let’s do a list of what we know so far:

Clary: Ginny Jace: Draco Jocelyn: I’m getting Bellatrix vibes? Bc of the whole in-love-with Voldemort thing? Valentine: I don’t know?? I can’t think of who he could be??? We’ll have to leave this blank for now I guess :/ Hodge: Giles. Not a HP character, but this is a crossover event with Buffy. Isabelle: Pansy Parkinson Alec: I actually don’t know here. He’s the GBF. Simon: Does Harry make sense? They’re both boring nice guys (don’t @ me!)

This game is getting boring, let’s move on. Luke apparently used to fight with B and P, so we know he’s a Shadowhunter (or, if you’ve read this book before, you know he used to be one). Then he tells them he doesn’t know where the Mortal Cup is (they think Jocelyn hid it).

CLARY IS SO FUCKING DUMB OMFG. P and B talk about how Jocelyn hasn’t regained consciousness and Valentine wants to see her again (using her name) and Clary goes:

Jocelyn? Can they be talking about my mother?

NO THE OTHER FUCKING JOCELYN. CLARY HOW RU STILL ALIVE.

CC must think her readers are really dumb and can’t figure anything out on their own:

“I’ve never felt any way about [Jocelyn], particularly,” said Luke. “Two Shadowhunters, exiled from their own kind, you can see why we might have banded together. But I’m not going to try to interfere with Valentine’s plans for her, if that’s what he’s worried about.”

He might as well have said, “Jocelyn and I were both exiled. EXILED. We were exiled. We were exiled as fuck. Do you get it? Reading context clues is hard, so I’m saying WE WERE EXILED.” The quasi-warlocks should have responded like, “Yeah? We know you both were exiled? We were there?”

Blackwell refers to Jocelyn as “that bitch” bc institutionalized mysoginy is the absolute best! I love when vicious sexism is included for no reason! Bc also these guys aren’t any worse than Luke! Bc may I remind you that Luke was basically a supremacist! Just like them!

For some reason, these idiots believe Lucius when he tells them that he’s not close with Jocie. Then please explain why you both live in Brooklyn.

P and B threaten to make Luke stay in the city, and Luke threatens them, and somehow they let this happen? In other news, Clary is still dumb as rocks. She’s super hurt that Luke said that he doesn’t care about Jocie bc she has about 0 critical thinking skills. We’re talking none. She could have someone whispering the answers in her ear and still bomb the SAT.

Jace thinks that P and B think Luke “knows more than he’s telling” so why would they let him go???? Then Jace reveals that P and B murdered his dad, and this chapter is OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Someone bring me a Bloody Mary. It’s how I feel inside.

#anti cassandra clare #anti the mortal instruments #book snark #CoB: Chapter 8 #CoB snark

[lymricks]

If you're into it and have the time, I'd love to see the scene in which the kids give Billy his winter coat in a little more detail. Also maybe a Billy/Hopper interaction? Or a Billy/Joyce conversation? I have such a thing for watching Billy interact with the people who love and care about Steve. Your head canons about these relationships work too, if you've got any you want to share!

Hi Anon!!! It’s a gift giving holiday for some people, so here’s a Chicago-verse gift giving fic where the termites give Billy his jacket.

I’m hopping on a plane in a few hours to go on an Exciting Adventure with my best friend. My queue is all loaded up and I’m sure I’ll be around a bit, but feel free to drop prompts in my ask box for me to do when I get back/on planes. I hate flying and I’ll be very bored. See you in the new year, everyone!!!!

the one with the winter coat (now also on ao3, but I cannot for the life of me figure out how to link it on this stupid app), ~1500 words, T

Harrington has been gone for one hour and twenty four minutes. Billy has given up on trying to act like he’s Totally Fine hanging around the Harrington house with Harrington’s ex-girlfriend and six teenagers. He’s bored as shit and they’re all fucking weird as shit and Hawkins makes his skin crawl.

He’s here for Thanksgiving and the turkey better be fucking incredible.

Harrington had pressed a kiss to his temple one hour and twenty–five, now–minutes ago before running out to the store with Jonathan. A few quick things, he said. A few quick things Billy’s ass. He should have just gone with them. Except–

“I ran into your dad at the grocery store that one time,” Harrington had murmured. Billy had been sitting on the Harrington’s kitchen island and Harrington was standing between the v of his thighs. The sentence made Billy flinch away and cut his gaze, but Steve’s hands on his thighs had kept him from jumping off. “I’m just saying I don’t think you should come with me for this,” Steve had continued, and he’d run his hands up Billy’s thighs and kissed at Billy’s lower lip. Sometimes when Harrington did that Billy felt like he was drowning and it was maybe the best thing he’d felt probably ever. It made him want to say yes to whatever Harrington was asking of him. “I don’t want your dad to surprise you.” It’s a fair point, Billy has to concede that. He doesn’t want to see his dad, doesn’t want him to appear beside the eggo waffles, doesn’t want to hear the low undertone of his voice, or see his stupid fucking mustache. That’s why–when they’re in Hawkins–he almost never goes anywhere without Harrington as an escort. That’s why–right now–he is wandering aimlessly around Harrington’s house while Nancy pointedly does not stare and all six teenagers track his movements like some sort of birds of prey.

He’s going to have to come back and do this all over again for Christmas, although probably at the Byers’s house. They’re only here because Harrington’s parents are out of town for the holiday and the kids like all the different rooms in the house and Harrington’s bigger tv.

Back for Christmas. Billy doesn’t want to come back here ever. Twice in less than a month is–a lot for him to know is coming.

“I need a smoke,” he mumbles to the room at large, grabbing his brown leather jacket–the same one from high school, he loves it and they’re expensive to replace–and wanders out into the backyard. “Fuck,” he says to the empty air outside, tipping his head back to exhale smoke in a stream at the starless sky. He’d never come here in high school, but he’d been four houses over once. He can still hear the echoes of the sirens he’d run from after climbing out that girl’s window, laughing, with his pants half off.

Billy breathes in cold air and smoke. He should have gone to the store, but in the eight months they’ve been together, Billy’s been back to Hawkins, been staying at the Harrington’s house, been chauffeured around in the passenger seat of a borrowed car that Harrington’s driving a lot of times. He thinks people have probably put two and two together about Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove. He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much, but he wonders–all the fucking time–what people in this shitty little town think about the Harrington boy being in some sort of arrangement with that no good Hargrove kid. He doesn’t mind being the no good kid so much as he minds the things it must make people think about Harrington–about–about Steve.

He pats his pocket, but there’s no more cigarettes there and already Billy feels jittery with the knowledge, like he’s drowning and not in the good way. He hopes someone else has a pack, but who’s he going to ask? Dustin? He’s still half-grinning to himself at the thought of asking Dustin for a cigarette when he slides the door open and steps back inside. It’s too cold to stand outside, especially without a cigarette. Even while he’d been smoking, Billy was fighting the biting Indiana chill.

The kids are huddled together just inside the door. Dustin has both hands on his head. Lucas is looking back and forth between Mike and Dustin in disbelief.

“He’s already got a jacket,” Mike is saying, waving his hands around.

“It’s not a winter coat,” Will answers. He’s standing more in the middle of the circle and he cuts his gaze to El, who nods. “It’s not very warm,” he adds.

“We also already bought it!” Lucas rolls his eyes then turns the full force of his glare on Mike. Billy’s impressed by how intense it is. Kid’s been practicing in the mirror, maybe. “So this whole conversation is stupid.”

“We have to do it for Steve,” Dustin explains.

“For him, too. He’s cold,” the weird girl–Hopper’s daughter, El, adds.

“I already said we should do this,” Max says, and she huffs on a big sigh. “He doesn’t–it’s right to.”

“And we already bought it,” Lucas says again.

“I just think it should be the right gift,” Mike snaps and when Billy steps closer Mike’s holding both hands up, looking a lot like surrender even if his mouth is pulled down at the corners. “It’s his first official gift. We got Steve something way better.”

“Shut up,” Max hisses then, and her bright eyes meet Billy’s across the room. shoving Mike’s shoulder. As though they all have one brain, six pairs of teenage eyes turn in unison to look at Billy.

“Right,” Billy says slowly. “I can just–”

“We have something for you,” Dustin shouts it, bursts up from where he’s hunched over at Lucas’s shoulder clutching a lumpy, paper-wrapped square. The paper is just plain and brown, but when it’s thrust into Billy’s hands–the rest of the kids behind Dustin poking their heads over his shoulder like some sort of cartoon–he can see that there’s drawings on it.

“Will did them,” Mike says helpfully when Billy runs a finger over one.

There’s a series of crayon and pencil images. His Camaro, long gone now, and Billy crouched in a leather jacket, staring–moodily, he would definitely call the expression Will Byers drew on his face moody–out a window. There’s the Byers’s house, and a rough sketch of the necklace Billy never takes off, and one of Max that Billy recognizes as a real moment from a few months ago–her with both hands around his wrist, trying to drag him to the ground. She’d been trying to win a particularly aggressive game of basketball. Billy hadn’t called her foul.

It’s the drawing in the top left corner next to Dustin’s messy handwriting–which reads To Billy from Termites–that Billy’s gaze stops on. He sucks in a sharp breath.

The drawing is a scene from their old apartment in Chicago. He knows it by the tiny kitchen window Will’s drawn behind the couch, the one Harrington always left Christmas lights up around. The drawing itself is of Billy and Harrington. They’re sitting on the couch next to each other. Will’s drawn them with their knees bumping, with Harrington’s cheek flopped lazily against Billy’s shoulder, with Billy’s arm stretched out behind him, his fingers just curling over Harrington’s shoulder.

Billy has never felt vulnerable in front of teenagers before, not really. He wonders, looking down at this package, if he’s going to fucking cry.

“There’s actually something else inside it,” Dustin says. When Billy looks up he’s rolling his eyes, but Will’s cheeks are tinged red and Billy lets his mouth curl into something that, under a microscope, under extreme duress, he might admit is a smile.

“Open it,” Dustin says.

Billy does. Slowly and with–with reverence, really–he peels back the corners. Underneath the wrapping, which is in itself the best present he’s ever gotten–is a warm, dark winter coat. There’s no fur lining the hood, like Harrington’s has and which Billy makes fun of endlessly. It’s just simple. It just looks warm. He sets the paper down carefully on the table and sheds his leather jacket, pulling it on.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Holy shit,” Max breathes. “You know how to say thank you?”

It breaks the moment, and Billy’s so grateful to her for it, because he doesn’t know what to do with his face. He chucks his old jacket at her face and then Mike is grabbing El and dragging her back toward the tv because a show he likes is on it, he can hear the music, come on hurry and Lucas tries to help Max fix her hair.

It’s just Dustin and Will, then, looking at Billy in his new winter coat. Billy pushes hair out of his face, doesn’t really know how to say thank you for something like all this.

“Told you it was a good present,” Dustin says, sounding smug and looking at Will.

“I was on your side!” Will exclaims.

“Yeah,” Billy says. “It’s. It’s really good.”

Then the door swings open. Jonathan shouts for the kids to come help carry groceries in, and Billy is left standing alone in the Harrington’s house for a silent two minutes. He can just sort of hear them outside, the rustle of plastic bags, the slamming of car doors.

Harrington is the first through the door. Billy can hear him drop plastic bags in the kitchen, listens to the sound of his footsteps as he comes closer. Harrington appears, suddenly, in front of him. His cheeks are pink from the Hawkins cold and his grin is warm and immediate the second he sees Billy.

Billy feels like he’s drowning. He reaches for Harrington like he’s a life vest. “Nice coat,” Harrington says, sounding a little surprised when Billy tugs him closer and slides his hands into Harrington’s back pockets, but leaning into Billy’s chest all the same. “They’ve been nervous about that for three weeks.”

Billy looks up at Harrington’s big stupid eyes and feels warm in a lot of different ways, all at once.

#you'll lose the blues in chicago #my fic #harringrove

[brimbrimbrimbrim]

Same anon here. Umm ever think Lucas would be hella awkward in cuddlin his ' girlfriend ', I mean I know his lonely and probably wouldn't mind some fluff action goin on in between both of them ? If you catch my drift sorry

This is just barely fluffy, Anon. But I hope you like it all the same. 

“Yeah? - well, he can go get fucked!” Lucas shouted, turning red in the face as Mr. Baker stood with a beer in his hand, half out of his chair with a hard snarl curling his peppered mustache. For a second the two men just stared at each other - one daring the other to make a move. Eventually, Alice watched the eldest Baker sink back in his chair as Marguerite placed a cautious hand on her husband’s forearm.

“You ough’ta treat that girl of yer’s better,” he finished; a minor slur of intoxication to his words.

Alice liked Jack Baker. He was a stern, loving presence but he preferred to talk about her as if she wasn’t there - as if she wasn’t sitting at the table beside his son, sharing cautious looks between them both.

Mr. Baker sneered, “Change yer ways, boy - otha’wise she gonna leave you for someone that don’t act like such ah’ punk.”

Lucas was quiet after that, but the air in the room went stale with his mood, and all eyes flickered between her and Lucas like the tick of a clock. Alice didn’t dare look over at her boyfriend, too worried he’d just get up and leave the table. It was incredibly awkward just getting through the rest of the meal with Mrs. Baker’s sad expression - it was a chore and Zoe, sat beside her father, hadn’t stopped scowling since the fight.

Alice would have spoken up - she would have told Mr. Baker that Lucas’ grandpappy would be proud of him. It wasn’t that Lucas treated her poorly, it’s just that he wasn’t the best at expressing affection in front of people, even if those people were part of his emotionally exhausted family. She wanted to tell them about how Lucas drove forty-five minutes across town for her, just to get her their favorite burgers when she had that sinus infection last month. Alice would have mentioned how he would spend hours at a time holding her on the couch, rubbing the shell of her ear as they watched French horror movies that only she liked - or about that time he forgot it was Valentine’s Day and made up for it by writing her a sappy letter saying he was to do any and everything she asked of him…for a whole week.

But…most of all, Alice wanted to tell them about the man Lucas killed for her - about how he’d taken a tire iron out of the trunk of his Camaro and bashed Timothy’s skull in until there was nothing left but red mush, speckled with white skull chips.

Lucas had looked at her in the light of his high beams that night, blood splattered over his thighs and stomach and smiled at her…and she’d smiled back and later that night she’d fucked him in his bed with the blood rubbing off him onto her skin…

Alice smiled sweetly when Mrs. Baker took her plate from her and followed after the kind woman to help with the dishes. They traded tense, friendly conversation as they scrubbed and dried each dish. Alice couldn’t hear anything coming from the kitchen…which hopefully meant Lucas, and his father had parted without bloodshed, but a worry ate away at her gut as she scrubbed a gumbo pot clean. The crushed tin foil backsplash glared at her, but Alice lowered her eyes and counted her breaths as they finished up cleaning. She itched to assuage Mrs. Baker’s fears; to reassure, but instead she bit her tongue and helped put the leftovers in the freezer.

Lucas was still sitting at the table, all alone, when she stepped back into the dining room, drying off her clammy hands. He spared her a quick; hollowed out expression before kicking his chair out and grabbing his car keys, “Move it, Alice. I can’t stand this shit hole another second!”

“Lucas! Don’t you dare walk out of this-” his mother tried, but Alice forced a reassuring smile and hugged her goodbye.

“He’s just tired,” Alice told his mother, “I’ll make sure he gets some sleep. Promise.” Mrs. Baker stared back at her with thankful eyes. Alice’s tongue slid into the back of her teeth, wanting to say more, but it was pointless. They’d never understand anyway.

She and Lucas slipped out by way of the garage without bumping into anyone else. Crossing paths with his sister or Mr. Baker would only make the drive home more uncomfortable than it surely was going to be. It crossed her mind to prepare for a bumpy ride as well…frustration for Lucas spelled erratic, and her road trip back to her apartment would surely be eventful unless she found a way to calm him down.

Outside of the car passenger seat, Alice saw the worried face of his mother looking back at them from the garage; her arms were crossed against the cold, and since Lucas wasn’t going to, Alice waved goodbye with a broad smile. It made her stomach feel a little lighter as Mrs. Baker’s lips curled upwards in return.

They did their best, Alice knew…

The car ride was dead silent for the first fifteen minutes. The roads were dead, and every light they hit was green. It was easy going, despite the cold coming from the busted backseat window… and from Lucas as well. Alice thought it wouldn’t be so bad after all, that is until out of nowhere Lucas took a right before the interstate. She blinked, gripping the bucket seat as he took another hard right and drove them off down a dirt road into darkness. A hot sinking stone sank into her belly as the street lights became nothing but a mere memory as the cutback brush went dense. The muted sounds of CCW rose up from the speakers, but it couldn’t distract her from her mounting dread.

She twisted her head towards him as the Camaro bounced over the uneven terrain. Lucas was hunched over the steering wheel, teeth glowing against the dashboard lights in a maniacal snarl.

Alice saw the glassy ripples coming off the dead-still swamp as it appeared under the car beams. Cypress trees stretched out for miles into gator infested waters, breaching the muddy waters.

She had the unbidden, nightmarish thought that Lucas might slit her throat and dump her in the bayou, but as soon as he killed the lights and she felt his warm, frenzied hands around her shoulders, dragging her into a desperate hug…the fear melted, and nothing but guilt remained. How could she have been so afraid of him? Lucas…

“Lucas,” she sighed, unbuckling her seatbelt in a short second and then in the next she was warm and safe inside the heat of his arms. Lucas whined in the back of his throat; fingers clinging mercilessly to her flannel jacket. Though his lap was hard and slim, Alice moaned at the sensation it offered. Despite it all, he was warm and comfortable and yes, his embrace was too tight, but there was nowhere else she’d have rather been.

His fingers curled and bruised around her spine. Every breath he inhaled rattled against her chest and with a ragged sigh he deflated; forehead sliding down against her throat. Even in the cold, he felt sweaty with residual rage.

Alice flushed, feeling his breath leak down against the tops of her breasts. She could feel his lips as they parted against the soft flesh there and how, with each moist breath, he dampened her skin further until the cold winter air couldn’t do a thing to freeze the sweat growing on her skin.

Alice didn’t ask what was wrong, nor did she offer him any hushed words of comfort. He would have hated them anyway, and they’d have done no good because whatever it was Lucas was thinking was too complex for her to try and dissect, let alone put back together. So, she ran her fingers through the thin hair on the back of his scalp and rested her chin on his head; holding him.

The first time he’d clung to her was after he’d killed Timothy. The reek of blood and rot had made her want to puke, but Lucas had murdered for her - had come to her rescue when no one else had bothered, and since then she’d never allow herself to pull away from his clingy hugs and manic touches. Let him yell at her in front of his parents during dinner and let him shirk her touch when people were looking. Lucas could do whatever he wanted, and she’d let it wash over her like old rain…

“You make me feel normal,” he said against her breasts after a while, stuck in the miasma of darkness and the hard cold. His arms twitched, squeezing the breath out of her lungs.

Alice swallowed and wrapped her arms around his head, pushing her lips to the short, soft hair on his scalp and whispered hauntingly, “…you make me feel insane.”

His lips curled into a grin against her flesh…and without warning his tongue slid out between her cleavage, tasting the glowing skin with a muffled groan, “Prove it.”

#lucas baker #fanfic #request #fluff? #i did it in under 2K! #<3

[kansascityhappenings]

Legendary actor Burt Reynolds dead at age 82

(CNN) — Burt Reynolds, the mustachioed megastar who first strutted on screen more than half a century ago, died Thursday, according to his agent Todd Eisner.

He was 82.

The Georgia native, whose easy-going charms and handsome looks drew prominent roles in films such as “Smokey and the Bandit” and “Boogie Nights, suffered a cardiac arrest, Eisner said.

An iconic Hollywood sex symbol in front of the camera, Reynolds also tried his directorial hand behind it, and later earned a reputation for philanthropy after founding the Burt Reynolds Institute for Film & Theatre in his home state of Florida.

His roles over the years ranged and pivoted from Southern heartthrob to tough guy to comedy, notably for his role as Rep. David Dilbeck in the 1996 film “Striptease,” which flopped at the box office but earned him widespread praise for his comedic prowess.

But it was John Boorman’s 1972 thriller “Deliverance,” which cast Reynolds as outdoorsman Lewis Medlock, that is widely credited for launching his early career.

Reynolds called it “by far” his best film.

“I thought maybe this film is more important in a lot of ways than we’ve given it credit for,” he said in an interview years later. The movie’s infamous rape scene may have helped the public — especially men — better understand the horrors of sexual attacks, Reynolds said.

“It was the only time I saw men get up, sick, and walk out of a theater,” he added. “I’ve seen women do that (before),” but not men.

Born in south Georgia, Reynolds and his family moved to Michigan and eventually wound up in southeastern Florida, according to the website of the Florida Artists Hall of Fame, where he was inducted in 1993.

At Palm Beach High School, he first made a name for himself as a football star and earned an athletic scholarship to Florida State University. But when injuries derailed a promising athletic career, Reynolds turned to acting.

He then scored small parts in the late 1950s before landing a role in the New York City Center revival of “Mister Roberts” in 1957, as well as a recurring spot in the TV series “Gunsmoke.”

By 1974, Reynolds had hit it big and starred as an ex-football player who landed in prison in the film “The Longest Yard.” Two years earlier, he broke taboo and posed nude in Cosmopolitan magazine, which helped cement his growing status as a sex symbol.

He later said he regretted that centerfold image, which showed Reynold’s spread out across a bearskin rug, and said it distracted attention from his “Deliverance” co-stars and likely cost them an Academy Award.

Reynolds’ notoriety soared through the late 1970s and 1980s, during which time he spearheaded the “Smokey and the Bandit” and “Cannonball Run” movie franchises. He also earned People’s Choice Awards in 1979, 1982 and 1983 as all-around male entertainer of the year.

But he also turned down some of the biggest roles in Hollywood history.

From James Bond to Hans Solo in George Lucas’ 1977 blockbuster “Star Wars,” Reynolds also reportedly was among Paramount Pictures’ top choices to play Michael Corleone in Francis Ford Coppola’s 1972 epic “The Godfather.”

Again, the star expressed regrets.

“I took the part that was the most fun… I didn’t take the part that would be the most challenging,” Reynolds said in an interview with CNN.

His love life also drew headlines after a high-profile divorce to actress Loni Anderson preceded Reynolds bankruptcy filing in 1996, amid a budding romance with actor Sally Field.

A year later, Anderson released her version of events in a tell-all book called “My Life in High Heels.”

In 1998, Reynolds scored his sole Oscar nomination for best supporting actor after his portrayal of a porn film producer in the film “Boogie Nights,” despite his dislike of the film and its apparent glorification of the porn industry.

Years later, with a mustache gone gray, he suffered from health issues that included open heart surgery. Reynolds also checked into a drug rehab clinic in 2009. The purpose was “to regain control of his life” after becoming addicted to painkillers prescribed following back surgery, his manager said.

Once among Hollywood’s highest-paid actors, Reynolds later fell into financial trouble amid private ventures in an Atlanta restaurant and a professional sports team, though he continued to make cameo appearances and teach acting classes.

“I worked as an actor for 60 years, I must have something I can give,” he told Morgan.

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports https://fox4kc.com/2018/09/06/legendary-actor-burt-reynolds-dead-at-age-82/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2018/09/06/legendary-actor-burt-reynolds-dead-at-age-82/