#i digress. the point is. uh. boy? boy make me go :]? and when boy touch my shoulder or hands i don’t get uncomfy? i actually enjoy it? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

svnflowervol666 · 4 years

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Paper Peonies (70′s crime boss!Harry x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: violence, death, other than that she’s squeaky clean! (nervous laughter)

Author’s Note: Yes, this is inspired by that one part in Tiger King and no, I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve had this scenario stuck in my head for a while (and by a while I mean March aka I am slow as hell to get shit done but I digress), and that combined with my obsession with the show Good Girls is where this fic blossomed. This is obviously set up to have multiple parts, so I hope this is enough to draw you in for what happens between Harry and Y/N after this! Take care and TPWK.

April 22, 1977 ~ New York City

She had always been suspicious of what Harry did for a living. His clothes were nice, the lapels of whatever color suit he’d decided to wear that day were always pressed with the upmost attention to detail and she’d never once seen even the tiniest scuff on his loafers. The chocolate brown curls on top of his head, no matter how dishevelled they appeared to be, always looked intentionally messy as if each wild strand had its own position to uphold. He never missed a nail appointment, and Y/N knew this because she always smelled the faintest hint of acetone trail behind him after his cologne with notes of sweet tobacco and ginger each time he entered the flower shop where he worked. Everything about his presence led her to believe that Harry was important man, but she hadn’t realized just how influential he was until tonight.

Harry visited her once a week. Every Wednesday for the past six months at precisely one o’clock in the afternoon, the wind chime attached to the door at the store entrance would announce his arrival. He always ordered a custom bouquet, the most expensive option in their catalogue, and always insisted that Y/N be the one to make it. She had creative authority over which flowers went where, which colors to use - “Whatever your pretty little heart desires,” as he would tell her as he smirks behind his amber tinted sunglasses. He always tipped, no matter how many times she told him this was a flower shop and that she didn’t work for tips, and he always plucked the prettiest, freshest flower out of the bouquet and handed it back to Y/N. He'd drop the flower into the display vase at the register if she refused the gesture, and other times he’d tuck the stem right behind her ear, caressing her cheek in the softest manner to intentionally fluster her. Harry knew she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, as he’d come to know her just as well through the small talk they made during each one of his visits, which is why it amused him so much to see this girl, kind and short-tempered, freeze up at the slightest touch of his fingers on her skin.

Y/N knew he was a man with a routine, which is why she grew inherently worried when one o’clock rolled around and Harry had yet to show his face in the flower shop. She wasn’t sure why she even cared so much; he was only a customer. Sure, he was easy on the eyes and always flirted with her and it was just about the only form of male interraction she’d come across throughout the entire time that she’d known him, but that was all he was - a customer. So, to busy herself and her thoughts, she’d scrubbed the countertops a few more times than necessary and paid far too much attention to the arrangement of pots and vases for the rest of her shift.

It had all happened so suddenly.

At first, she had been giving the shop its final sweep before closing. The gentle singing of the wind chime made Y/N curse under her breath. We close in ten minutes, why the fuck are you here? But her irritation soon turned to relief when her eyes met his - Harry’s. He graciously apologized for being late, though he had no reason to. She didn’t even ask him what she wanted, only going immediately to work on the bouquet she’d been planning out all day in her head for the next time she saw him.

One minute, she was chatting him up and playfully giving him a hard time as she always does, and the next, she heard the unmistakable sound of gun shots and she was being shoved underneath the cash register by Harry and told to “Stay there, and don’t fucking move until I come get you.”

She isn’t sure, but she thinks she’s went into shock because she can barely see and although she can hear glass breaking and the strangled voices of two men going head to head, but it all rings faint and distant in her ears. Her knees tuck impossibly close to her shoulders as she hunches underneath the counter in imminent fear that whatever or whoever is out there creating an ungodly amount of damage is coming for her next and out of all places, her unproductive, measly life would come to abrupt halt in a fucking flower shop of all places.

It could have been five minutes, it could have been hours, but there’s a lingering gun shot proceeded by a harsh thud that she somehow hears through the ringing in her ears and she can sense that the quarell had ended. She scurries backward into the tan wood when she hears footsteps approaching her, too scared to even look up because she’s convinced that she’s next.

“Y/N...Y/N? Y/N!” she comes to when she realizes that it’s Harry shaking her wearily by the shoulders.

“Where’s the phone?”

There’s caked blood around his ringed knuckles, a thin trail of crimson liquid running down his temple and his cheekbone rears an ugly cut that’ll certainly take weeks to heal, but he’s seemingly unharmed aside from the few casualties on his face.

“What?” she asks, still in a daze and utterly confused as to why he’s asking a question like that at a time like this.

“Tell me where the phone is.”

His voice is stern and if she’s being honest, it scares the shit out of her because if Harry is still alive and well, she’s not so sure that the other guy is.

“O-over by the broom closet.”

“I’ll be back in a second. Whatever you do, stay here and do not look over the counter,” is all he says before disappearing from her view.

She tries her hardest, she really does, not to eavesdrop on the conversation Harry is having with whoever is on the other line of the phone. He’s speaking in whispers and so low that it’s almost undetectable, but she hears bits and pieces.

“The flower shop on Main Street...It’s fine, I just need yeh t’ bring the boys here now...Yeh, there was someone else here but I’m taking care of it.”

That last bit is enough to send bone-chilling shiver down her spine. It kicked her fight or flight response into full gear, which has her scrambling to her feet ready to book it out of the shop to the nearest payphone so she could call the police. After all, shouldn’t she regardless? Given that a shootout just happened in the lobby of her fucking workplace. She moves to stand up, but a jarring sight over the counter she’d been hiding under stopped her.

A pool of blood, the most she’s ever seen, surrounded a limp body whose face was battered to the point of being unrecognizable laid on the ground in front of her. Her breath catches in her throat and she actually feels like she’s suffocating.

Harry did this. And all she could do was collapse right back on the ground where she had been hiding.

“Are yeh alright?”

His eyes are full of sympathy and a bit of regret when he returns, and hers are filled with frightful tears that Harry will hate himself for for the rest of his life knowing that he was the reason for.

“I, uh... I think so,” she’s able to squeeze out in between waves of panic.

“Good,” Harry says sternly, “Now, come on. I’ll take yeh home.”

If Harry was “taking care of it,” it being her, there was no way in hell she was spending more than another second alone with Harry.

“Who is that?” her voice is quiet but firm, and it’s what makes Harry realize that she hadn’t listened to him and had definitely peeked over the counter when he wasn’t looking.

He sighs in displeasure, eyes flicking towards the dead body in the lobby of the store and then back to Y/N.

“No one yeh need t’ worry about. It’s taken care of. Now please, just let me drive yeh home so I know you’re safe.”

“No offense, Harry,” she began, “But there is no fucking way I am getting into a car with you.”

“Y/N, just-” is all he can get out before she makes a beeline for the front door and is running as far away from Harry as she possibly can.

She makes it about two blocks down the now empty streets before her lungs give up on her. In times like these, she wishes she exercised more. Just as she’s catching her breath against the door of a closed bodega, begging and praying that Harry had lost track of her, she feels headlights coming up on her backside in the distance.

“Y/N!” It’s Harry, yelling at her from the driver’s side of a maroon Mustang.

“Just get in the car and I’ll explain everything.”

Not a fucking chance, buddy she thinks to herself. She gives him her sassiest side glare before resuming her fast-paced walk down the street.

It doesn’t deter Harry from creeping along the street to match her speed.

“Y/N,” he pleads.

“Fuck off, psycho” she mutters under her breath, but it’s still loud enough for Harry to hear.

“It’s 1977, Y/N! Do yeh know how many serial killers are on the loose right now? Get in the fucking car!”

He’s getting ansty now. Not only by her persistance to get away from him, but because of the fact that he knows whenever he looses sight of her, she’s going straight to the police and everything he’s built for himself will come crashing down on him. He never thought that his sweet, hot-headed Y/N would be his downfall.

“Why?” Y/N stopped abruptly and spun around on her heels to face him.

“So you can get rid of your witness? I’m good. Blow my brains right here out on the sidewalk, please. I’d prefer a junkie to keep my corpse company over the maggots in whatever hole in the Bronx you planned on throwing me in.”

“Christ, you’re impossible.”

Harry didn’t even bother saying that under his breath.

“Here,” he starts, reaching for the button on the glove compartment.

Using the dull, yellow street lights and infinitely glowing neon signs in the store-fronts of the buildings around her, she can see that he’s pulled out a pistol. It causes her to jump back a few steps, as if she hadn’t just politely asked him to kill her on the sidewalk in the first place.

“Fuck, sorry. Didn’t mean t’ scare yeh.”

Well it’s a little too fucking late for that.

He quickly unloads the cylinder and the clanking of bullets hitting his seat fills her ears. With a flick of his wrist, he presents the handle to her.

“Yeh can point it at me the whole drive. Please, just let me take yeh home so I know you’re alright.”

He seemed earnest and sincere, but based on everything that had happened to her in this short amount of time, she had come to realize that there is more than meets the eye when it comes to Harry.

However, in her brief stint on Earth, she’s decided that everything that’s happened to her thus far had been for a reason (as cliche as that seemed), and her gut was telling her trust him. After all, he had shielded her from the rainfall of bullets that more or less decimated the flower shop just minutes before.

She say anything, only yanking the gun from Harry’s grip and slamming his door shut.

“The brownstones in Bed-Stuy,” is all she tells him.

“Jesus, Y/N. We’re all the way in Chelsea. Couldn’t find a closer place to work? That’s a scary train ride home at night. Surprised yeh haven’t been kidnapped yet.”

“You know, you really shouldn’t say shit like that considering this is the first time I’ve spent longer than ten minutes with you and I’m sitting in your car.”

Harry sighs under his breath, cursing himself for freaking her out for the umpteenth time tonight.

He notices her struggling to load the bullets into the cylinder.

“Do yeh need hel-”

“I live alone in Brooklyn. I know how to fucking use a gun,” she snarls as the firing pin finally clicks into place.

“Alright,” Harry mumbles.

She shifts in the plush, leather seat, one elbow leaning out the open window as the other is tucked into her side so she can point the barrel of the gun right at Harry’s side.

“Okay, start talking.”

Rolling his eyes, he bangs the back of his head against the head-rest. He winces as soon as his scalp makes contact with the seat, momentarilly forgetting he’d gotten it slammed against the linoleum during the brawl in the flower shop.

“What do yeh’ want t’ know?”

“For starters, what the fuck happened at the flower shop?”

Harry feels like he’s sighed precisely nine hundred and thirty-one times tonight, but he’s somehow able to squeeze out another one before answering Y/N’s question.

“Did yeh ever meet the guy that lived above the shop?”

“Mr. Perry? He’s harmless. Why? Is that who was on the floor?”

Her sould hurt momentarily for the middle-aged man that she ocassionally crossed paths with when she’d open up the store in the mornings. He was never quite sociable, but he always tipped his hat to her when he saw her. Her boss had told her once that he always kept to himself, so she was never surprised that he never struck up a conversation with her.

““S not exactly harmless, Y/N,” Harry corrected her.

“We did...business together a few times. Found out he tried t’ cross me. Word must’ve got around tha’ I was looking for him, so I’m assuming when he saw my car outside the shop, he figured he’d take his chance t’ get rid of me.”

“What kind of business?” she deadpanned.

Harry hesitated.

“...Business,” he repeated.

The hammer of the gun locks into place, making Harry flinch and realize that he really fucked up by giving Y/N that gun.

“What kind of business?” she asks again, this time with a loaded weapon at her disposal.

“There’s...money involved. Lots of it.”

“So it’s illegal?”

“Most definitely.”

“Fine,” she decides that she probably doesn’t want to know anyway and moves on to her next question.

“You’ve been checking up on him this whole time? That’s why you come into the flower shop?”

Harry nods hesitantly, fingers gripping impossibly harder into the steering wheel.

She scoffs, laughing almost.

“So you don’t actually bring all of those flowers to your mother then? It was all just a ruse to keep your ducks in a row?”

Y/N isn’t sure why, but her heart broke over the notion that Harry didn’t come to the flower shop every week just to see her. Even though she acted like he annoyed her most of the time, she really was quite fond of him. I mean, anyone that’s seem the man would say the same. She never expected their relationship to flourish past light conversations about what flowers are blooming, but knowing he never actually cared was a different kind of disappointment.

“No,” Harry is quick to discount her assumption and he’s looking as serious as she’s seen him all night.

“I do give them t’ my mum.”

There’s a pregnant pause before he starts talking again.

“She died when I was ten. The cemetery’s only a few blocks away from the shop.”

Y/N feels like shit for pushing him, so she flips the safety clip on the side of the gun and allows it to fall limp in her crossed legs.

“Sorry.”

Harry’s sucks his lips into his mouth and shrugs his shoulders, letting her know that at least he knew she meant well.

“Okay,” Y/N draws out, her anxieties that Harry is going to take a detour to the nearest boat dock and throw her into the disgustingly unsanitary water in the dead of night rapidly dwindling away.

“Let’s say you do drop me off at my apartment. What’s stopping me from running to the police the second I get out of this car and telling them everything that I saw?”

Harry laughs sarcastically, readjusting the rearview mirror.

“Well, for starters, your fingerprints are on the murder weapon.”

“Fuck!” Y/N yells, kicking the gun out of her lap and letting it clank to the floorboard.

It was almost soothing. He knew it was only her reaction to realizing she could be held accountable for his crimes if anyone ever did find out about what happened, but the fact that she didn’t reach for the gun after that moment made him think that she trusted him in come capacity.

“And if that wasn’t enough t’ convince yeh, he was trying to start a human trafficking ring. Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t really think someone like that deserves to roam the streets. Think the world is far better off without him, don’t you?”

Okay, maybe Harry had a point.

When she hadn’t said anything in a while, letting only the sound of the wind fill the space of the car, Harry turned to look at her. Though she had unhesitantly cocked a loaded gun at aimed it directly at his face just moments ago, he couldn’t help but take his eyes off of the road and let them wander around her features.

She really was beautiful. The way her hair was blowing with the speed of his car and how the each street post they passed glowed around her sillhouette like a halo was stirring something inside of him.

He had went into the flower shop for the first time, he was genuinely in search for flowers to place on his mother’s grave. He’d expected to be greeted by a frail, elderly woman with shaky hands behind the counter, not Y/N. She was stubborn and he could see the fire behind her eyes and with everything in him, he couldn’t place his feelings for her. Was it akin to a grade-school crush on the cute girl he sat beside on the bus? Was it sexual tension that was begging to be unleashed so he could really show her what he was capable of beyond the flirtatious touches and salacious smirks? Or was it something else?

“Think we’re here,” Harry broke the long stream of silence as the car rolled to a halt outside of her apartment building.

“Oh,” was all Y/N said, almost saddened by the fact that their interraction was reaching its end.

“I’d really appreciate it if yeh didn’t go t’ the police. I won’t stop yeh, but if yeh do this f’ me, I promise I won’t let anything bad happen t’ yeh anymore.”

His eyes looked sorrowful, like he had an inkling that she would snitch and help take him down. But there was another part of him that believed she wouldn’t.

“I won’t,” she whispered quietly.

Her fingers lingered on the wooden-coated handle as she turned to him.

“Why are you doing this?”

“This as in...?” he quirked his brow at her.

“Helping me. You could’ve easily just killed me in the shop to spare you the trouble, but you didn’t.”

A small smile broke out on Harry’s face, the corners of his perfectly-pink mouth turning up just slightly.

“Didn’t think I could make it more obvious, but...I like yeh. I care about yeh. Care about what happens t’ yeh. You’re a sweet girl. Yeh didn’t deserve t’ see all that.”

Y/N nodded, eyes zeroed in on the discarded gun and loose bullets that had been rattling on the floorboard the entire drive to her apartment.

“Thank you,” she whispered, almost undetectable but Harry heard her.

With this information on hand, she no longer believed Harry meant ill with anything he had done. Even murdering the man that lived in the studio above where she worked.

He cared about her. He cared about what happened to her. And that’s why she was still here.

As she reluctantly removed herself from the passenger seat and closed the door to the mustang that must have cost a year’s worth of her rent, she pivoted and leaned on the still-open car window.

“You know,” she started, her iconic, I’m-not-even-joking-in-the-slightest expression that Harry had come to know (and love) reared its head.

“You’re paying for all of the shit you broke. Those pots are expensive and the owner’s gonna blow a fucking gasket when she comes in to do payroll tomorrow.”

This earned a genuine laugh from Harry, loaded with more than she understood at the moment, but would eventually learn more about.

“It’ll look brand new in there come morning. Swear it,” he placed his hand over his heart for good measure.

“Goodnight, Harry,” she spoke softly, her lips mimicking the smile that was plastered on his.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

As someone that had witnessed and was now an accomplice in a brutal murder that took place where she worked, Y/N called in sick the next day. Her undeniable PTSD had made her violently ill with even the thought of going near the entirety of Manhattan. But alas, she had bills to pay and forced herself into the flower shop on Friday.

The second her coworkers heard the windchimes and realized it was her that had entered, they were quick to bombard her with what she had missed while she was out.

She was too busy being completely stunned by the sight in front of her.

The store was spotless. It looked exactly as it had the before “the incident.” No broken glass, no missing pots, no blood stains on the floor, and no body. It was as if Harry had never even stepped foot in the shop to begin with.

“Your guy came by looking for you. Left you a card.”

“Harry?” she asked, “Can’t be. He only comes on Wednesday’s.”

She momentarily mourned the brunette. Would he ever come back at all now that his “friend” was most likely chopped up into dozens of pieces and burried in a dump somewhere that no one would ever find?

“Real tall? Curly hair? Always wears those yellow sunglasses? Huge flirt with the mustang?”

Yep, that was him.

“It’s in the office,” her coworker added before going back to her task of sweeping up wilted petals from the ground.

“He’s a charmer, ya know?” she added.

“Seemed worried when I told him you were sick. It was kinda cute, actually.”

She was too shaken up to give her the embarrassed reaction that she knew she was waiting for, walking with purpose towards the back of the store where the office was.

Sure enough, in a beige envelope sealed with melted wax and her name written on the front in perfect cursive, was a letter. With shaking hands, she freed the expensive-feeling paper from the confines of the envelope and lifted it closer to her face so she could read it.

Thank you for not saying anything.

Thank you for trusting me.

I meant what I said about protecting you.

If there’s anything I can ever do for you, please don’t hesitate to reach out.

x, H.

p.s. Those pink pots were a bitch to replace. Tell your boss to stop buying product in fucking New Jersey.

And finally, written in jet black ink at the bottom of the stationary in Harry’s handwriting, was an address.

She knew she’d been there before, as the street name was notorious for being home to New York’s most bustling night clubs and dive bars, but she couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t until she’d asked her friend about it later that night over their Friday night pizza-and-beer tradition that she realized where the address would take her.

A strip club?

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #crime boss!Harry

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vavandeveresfan · 3 years

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“Michael Keaton, Revved Up and Ready to Tell Some Stories.”

By David Marchese, for The New York Times Magazine. Aug. 29, 2021

Michael Keaton has been a star for long enough to have gone through multiple and distinctly different cycles of fame and artistic expression. He has zigzagged through the years from the gleeful anarchic charge of his comedic work in his early hit films like “Night Shift” (1982) and “Mr. Mom” (1983) to megastardom via the gothic “Batman” (1989) and even more gothic “Batman Returns” (1992). Then, after a period in the wilderness in the 2000s, he made a welcome comeback, kicked off by his detailed and widely praised character work in “Birdman” (2014). He’s such a familiar, even nostalgic, figure at this point that it’s easy to take his uniqueness for granted. It’s hard to think of another actor capable of, say, the manically riffing poltergeist he played in “Beetlejuice” (1988) and the layered gravitas of a latter-day role like his hard-nosed Boston Globe editor Walter Robinson in “Spotlight” (2015). But no matter the part — and I think this is essential to his appeal — Keaton, who is 69, always exudes an intense (and intensely American) self-reliance, a defiant independence. That quality is on display in various forms in his recent work as a contract killer in the thriller “The Protégé,” released in August; as Kenneth Feinberg, the real-life lawyer in charge of dispensing the 9/11 victims compensation fund in “Worth,” which premieres on Netflix Sept. 3; and as a small-town doctor whose eyes gradually open to the opioid crisis in the Hulu limited series “Dopesick,” slated for release on Oct. 13. “There’s something to getting older,” says Keaton, a digressive and keyed-up talker, who paced nonstop through his Montana home as we spoke via Zoom. “Not only do the roles get a little different, but your interpretation of them might be more interesting too.”

A few years ago in an interview you said that there was a point in your career, I guess it was in the mid-2000s before you sort of disappeared for a while,

I have wide interests, or catholic interests, as they say, and when you’re like that, you reach a point where you go, “OK, I still have to make a living so I have to take certain acting jobs,” and you try to do your best. Then you start to literally get tired of hearing your own voice, and also metaphorically get tired. You kinda go, “Am I a bullshitter right now?” But you say, “Hey, man, I’m fortunate enough to have a gig.” And I pass up a lot of work. I’ve passed up so much work over the years because I was curious about other things. I wanted to live life. Maybe it’s that nothing was coming around that made me interested. But I think work’s real important. I’m looking forward to a time when my work becomes other work, frankly. Like I’m involved with this environmentally conscientious construction company. I don’t know. Maybe I got bored with acting. That sounds so cavalier: “I was bored.” But I probably did get a little bored with myself. People forget about you, and I’m off doing other things. But I thought: I’ll be all right. Better roles will come around. Then, you know that whole thing of how you can manifest things? It’s doable. Your attitude, how you look at things and what you can create is more in your power than a lot of people think.

What’s the trick?

Here’s the deal: Everything comes down to the question of what do you want? You keep going back to what you want and you go, “Well, I have this,” but, yeah, what do you want? Then you have to drill down and have the balls to say, “If that’s what you really want, then you have to do X.” You know what the rest of it is? Good fortune. A couple of things go your way. Alejandro González Iñárritu calls my agent, and he goes, “I want to talk to him about this movie.” Because I like sports so much I use probably too many sports metaphors, but you gotta get tough and be competitive and not want to lie down. Certain things started coming around for me because I said, “I’m not lying down.” I don’t know. I’m probably overanalyzing it.

So when you asked yourself what you really wanted, what did you come up with?

Dude, dude, dude. We do not have time. We seriously do not have time for that. Trust me. That’s a whole other conversation. I don’t think print serves that question, to be really honest with you. It’s not like a thing you can touch.

OK. But then what do you actually do after you ask yourself what you really want?

You’ll come up with another answer. Then you’ll have to keep asking yourself, Yeah, but what is that? And then if you can live in that — without sounding like I’m saying something that makes me want to go outside and vomit — you kind of raise your consciousness.

I’m not sure I totally follow but —

Can I add this?

Please.

I’m blessed-slash-cursed with a bit of a chip on my shoulder. I keep it there because it’s motivational.

OK, so to get back on track: You had a period where you would do performances and they wouldn’t ring true? I’m just trying to get a handle.

So you hear yourself speaking, you’re in a scene, and it doesn’t necessarily not ring true, it’s just kind of a sound you’re doing that’s too familiar. I can’t explain it. I think there was a little overall boredom but not with the business — bored with me. Then the next level of that is are you having any fun or are you even really any good right now? So you’d stop, step back and reassess. Do some other things. Frankly the reason — a reason — that a person can be more effective as an actor — boy I hate acting talk.

Indulge me.

You’re the boss. I think you become a better actor if you have a world awareness and if you have experiences and you hear the way people speak. It was also a pride thing, eventually wanting to do more stuff. After a while you kind of go: I got some ammunition left. But I was living. I was doing some things, I was picking up a little bit of work. My attitude was make ’em throw you your pitch. Foul off a few. Take close ones right on the edge of the plate. You go: “Uh-uh. I’m here. I’m a [expletive] hitter.” Then you go, “I can hit that.” So you just hang in there. By the way, I’m not convinced baseball players of all the athletes are the brightest of the bunch.

I know you like to talk in sports metaphors so —

[Laughs.] You have that tone: “I know you like to talk in sport metaphors. But could you stop?”

No, no. I was going to ask if you could use one to describe where you are in your career now.

No. I could never describe it. I get embarrassed using the word “career.” Once you start talking like that you have a self-consciousness about it, and it takes away from: What’s the thing you really are supposed to do? What’s the job at hand? What’s your function in life?

There’s a passage in the piece you wrote for that book about fishing, “Astream”(A 2012 collection of nonfiction pieces by American writers on fly fishing.) “If you’re doing it right, the longer you live, the more you become just who you really are.” Are you becoming closer to who you really are? And who is that person?

It’s [expletive]. It’s just [expletive]. I’m so lost, Dave. [Laughs.] No, it’s funny, I was doing this little meditation today, and I was thinking about some version of that. So the answer to that question is, I don’t have any idea.

But when “Birdman” happened — and this was compounded by “Spotlight” also being so acclaimed and following that movie so closely — there was the idea that you had a comeback. Did that change your perspective about what your career had been up to then?

I don’t even like to use the word “career.” It sounds so narcissistic. “My career”; “career-wise.” It sounds pretentious just hearing myself say it now. To be totally honest, it’s not like everybody was knocking on my door. What people don’t know is, I never left; I was always picking up a little gig here and there. Throw a little money in the bank. I’m too antsy to sit around anyway. Fortunately, I’m interested in a lot of other things.

Like what?

I’m a news junkie. I kind of obsess over that, which is not good, and I do my little things under the radar with guys like Jim Messina. (In November, Keaton was featured in a pro-Biden video aimed at voters in his native Pennsylvania. The spot was created by American Bridge 21st Century, a super PAC that the former Obama deputy chief of staff Jim Messina worked with as an adviser during the 2020 election.) I love nature and being outside. My kid and I are tight. You know, I’m just so lazy. Honest to God. I mean, Thomas McGuane,(The esteemed novelist, who is the author of, among other books, “Ninety-Two in the Shade,” and a neighbor of Keaton’s in Montana.) he’s an old friend. He told me a while back, he said, You need to write. I thought I would write early on, and I quit because I’m lazy. So I’m doing a little more of that just for me. I’m developing this thing with Jay Roach and Owen Burke and Adam McKay.(Keaton is working with the trio, who have collectively participated in a bunch of smash Hollywood comedies, on an adaptation of a story by the New Yorker journalist Evan Osnos. Keaton declined to elaborate on precisely which story.) That takes up a fair amount of my time. When I get involved like that creatively, I get excited again. Even this interview: I’m not unnecessarily flattering you, but when I get talking about things — I forget how much I like things like this conversation. I start to get stimulated again.

I know there’s an element of randomness to the roles an actor ends up taking, but you’ve done “Dopesick” and “Worth” and “The Trial of the Chicago 7”. all relatively close to each other. Is that indicative of any increased desire to address politics more in your work?

You know, probably. There are things I did because I thought they had to be out there. I’ve always thought, without sounding self-serving here, that it’s important to be able to say, “If it all falls apart tomorrow, at least I did something that maybe meant something to someone.” “Dopesick” is personal. I lost a nephew to heroin. Fentanyl, really. It was my sister’s son. I don’t think I believe that I have a responsibility exactly, but you wouldn’t want to leave the world going: “I could have been a mensch. I could have turned somebody around.” People have come up to me about “My Life” (Keaton played a man diagnosed with terminal cancer opposite Nicole Kidman in this 1993 tear-jerker) and certain things that I’ve done and commented on what it meant to them. So you can say: “There’s that. At least I did that.”

Was it cathartic to work on “Dopesick”?

Well, I told his mom, my sister, about it after I had already signed on. I was direct and honest with her. I said, “Look, if this wasn’t well written or if they were saying you’ve got to kind of work for free, I’m not going to lie to you and say I would have done it, but, that said, the No. 1 reason I’m doing this is for Michael1111 Keaton’s nephew, also named Michael. and you and for everyone out there, because it’s important.” Then what happens is once you get going you’re locked in. There were moments where we were reading the script, and you would say, “Jeez, this is Michael’s story.” But that’s not the job at hand. The job at hand is to be the doctor and get back to work.

The doctor in “Dopesick” or Ken Feinberg in “Worth” are both sort of authority figures, which can be said of a lot of the characters you’ve played since “Birdman.” But earlier in your career — sorry for using that word — pretty much from “Night Shift” to “The Paper” you tended to play anti-authority types. What accounts for that change?

I totally know what you’re saying. I don’t know that I’ve thought about that specifically. Now, there’s probably some kind of stupid pride that would make me say, man, the guy in “The Paper” is certainly not like the guy in “Night Shift,” and “Beetlejuice” wasn’t like anything else. “Mr. Mom” was different. “Multiplicity” is one of my favorites, too, and that’s different.

“Tuck tuck fold.”

[Laughs.] Man, I miss that stuff so much. To see how far I could push Andie McDowell, to see if I could get her to break. What’s really interesting about you saying that is, man, do I miss — it sounds egotistical — being funny.

I’ve watched some of your old stand-up (Keaton’s first career in show business was as a stand-up comedian in the mid-to-late ’70s. That is, if you don’t count the crew work he did before that on “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.”) but you know what really killed me? Watching your Letterman appearances from the early ’80s. The conversation between you two is just joke after joke after joke, and the one time where you came on walking on your hands? The energy level is just — it’s very cocaine.

I don’t get to talk about this very often with people. I’m actually enjoying this. First of all — 100 percent true — absolutely no cocaine was involved. I’m not trying to save any kind of reputation. I’m just saying.

Oh, sorry, I was joking. I was just commenting on the vibe.

No, no, no. I do realize what you noticed because I remember being on a movie with someone — I’m not going to say who, they’re friends of mine now — and I found out years later they assumed I was on something, and they got worried. They thought, Jeez what if we get shut down? But even talking to you now, I feel myself getting revved up. I get like that. I’ve been like that since I was a little kid. It’s probably annoying to some people. I miss that stuff with Letterman and those guys. When I hear people talk about stand-up, no one really gets — unless you’re in that world — what that world really is; what you have to do if you want to be really good and how serious it can get. I was always afraid that the fun would go away. I was always afraid that I’d “catch the disease.”

The disease of being a morose comic?

Basically. The crazy that’s a lot of times in there and the self-involvement and, at the time, the friggin’ cocaine, which was everywhere.

I read some old magazine profile of you where you made passing mention about bombing as a young comedian onstage in Las Vegas. Is there a story there?

Yes. I pretty much — and I’m not saying this out of, well, wait a minute, maybe I am saying it out of braggadocio. I don’t know. Let me hear myself say it. Maybe I am. I’m really not bragging: What little act I had, I knew that some parts of it worked. They just did. So at the time Cher — if you’re enough of an entertainment nerd you’ll probably remember there was this phase where Cher really wanted to be a rocker, and she’s kind of not. She’s Cher.

She was playing the part, though.

Yeah, and this was in old Vegas. You look at the acts in Vegas now? They could be down in the West Village. Then, that wasn’t it. That was not it. I think her thinking was, Let’s go hipper, let’s go young, because I’m Cher and I’m going to do my rock tunes. So somebody said, “You gotta go see this guy” — me. She sees me and says: “He’s funny. Let’s take him.” So I go “Cool.” Meanwhile if you drove down the Strip and looked at the marquees, who the names were, they were comics that not even my dad would — just older guys. I’m not saying good or bad; a totally different thing. So I go, OK, I’m kind of scared, but I pretty much know this material works. It doesn’t bomb. It just doesn’t. It’s not like people were writhing on the floor with laughter ever but I go, no, this works. Then I started to get a feel for Vegas and I’m going, Oh, boy. But I thought, Well, they’re going to see Cher so I don’t have to do a lot of time. Then she started telling me how much time she wanted me to do, and I went, [expletive], I don’t have this. And backstage the curtains were like 40 feet high. It was like, Whoa, wait a minute, this is big. Then you get onstage, and they’re there to see Cher. They’re still eating, all you hear is silverware and people mumbling things like, “Hey, I didn’t order Thousand Island.” You’re up there and they go: “Who is this kid? Why is he bothering us?” I remember starting with some kind of architecture-related joke.

Those usually kill.

[Laughs.] Oh, people love architecture bits. It was death, and I had never experienced death. I remember sweat literally running down my back. By the way, the architecture thing was totally stupid in retrospect. It’s not even funny. So anyway, that was traumatic. I always felt like I disappointed Cher. She’s great though.

I have a “Batman” question: When I rewatched “Batman” (This film and its sequel — both huge commercial successes — were directed by Tim Burton, who had previously directed Keaton in “Beetlejuice.” Keaton and Burton both declined to revisit Batman for “Batman Forever” (1995). They did reunite on “Dumbo” in 2019.) and “Batman Returns” it seemed to me as if there was a progression from one film to the next in how you played Bruce Wayne. Picking that character up again 30-ish years later in “The Flash,” (Keaton will reprise his role as Bruce Wayne and Batman in this film, currently slated for a 2022 release) are you playing him as a continuation of that same guy or are you starting from scratch?

That’s a really good question. I’m not being cute: When I hear you speak I go, “I have a feeling he knows more about Bruce Wayne than I do.” I don’t know if I thought about it that much. Maybe I did. The first “Batman” I didn’t think was going to happen because when Tim Burton called me, he said, “I want to talk about this thing.” I go, “Cool, what do you got?” He tells me and I go, “Wow.” He said, “Go home and read this script.” We had developed a relationship. We’re pals to this day. So I went home and read it, and I went, “I don’t think he’s going to want me to do this after I say what I think.” Then we met and I go, “I think the character is this, this, this and this.” I remember Tim’s hair was really long, and he’s looking at me, and as I’m talking his hair is flapping up and down, like nodding woo woo, and I went, I guess he’s thinking like I’m thinking. So I say, “OK, let’s do it.” Then everybody was saying, “Oh, my God, the world’s going to end.” (There was a negative fan outcry after it was first announced that Keaton would play Batman. The general gist being that the actor — best known back then for his comedic roles — lacked sufficient seriousness to play the comic-book character.) I thought, Really? Do people think that there’s anything to be outraged about?

You know people take superhero movie stuff even more seriously than Jesus these days, right?

I do. It’s crazy. But doing it again was in a way more fun than any other time. I think I invested myself more. Honestly, I’m probably too frightened to phone anything in. I would phone something in if I could. I just can’t allow it to happen. The kind of athletes I’ve always liked are the grinders. Guys who just said: “[Expletive] you. I’m going down hard.” So I thought about the character again, and I thought, OK, if you’re going to do it, don’t be a dick. Go to work. Do the thing. I don’t know how you are about this, but I never got the whole fascination with the superhero thing. We can laugh at the people who obsess but it’s none of my business what people think. Their interests are their interests. I didn’t want to disrespect it. I thought, Hey, man, embrace it. Be a professional and do everything a professional’s supposed to — but, well, all my conversations with Andy, (Andrés Muschietti, director of “The Flash.”) a couple things he wanted me to do I go, “Nah, I’m not doing that.” By the way, I’m talking about two little things where I said, “No, that’s not the character.” Because you have to honor that guy. After all these years, if you’re going to do this again, be respectful to the character and the movie. And Andy was right about a lot of stuff that I’d thought: I don’t know if you should do that with this guy. It’s all pulpy and everything, but Bruce Wayne’s an interesting character.

You know, I hadn’t realized that you and Tim Burton were still pals, and now I’m mentally stuck on the possibility of him all gothed out going fly-fishing with you in Montana.

[Laughs.] You know, the imagery does seem weird. I will tell you, here’s the thing about Tim Burton that a lot of people don’t know: Because he has certain mannerisms and personality and what his art looks like, I think there’s a little misperception. He’s refreshingly way more normal than people — I don’t know if normal is the right word but you know what I mean.

I’m going to keep sidetracking now — that’s your influence, by the way.

That’s good. That’s real good. Did you ever read “Tarantula”?

The Bob Dylan book? Yeah. (Dylan’s prose-poetry collection, published by Macmillan in 1971. Here’s how it starts: “aretha/ crystal jukebox queen of hymn & him diffused in drunk transfusion wound would heed sweet soundwave crippled & cry salute.”)

A guy like you probably said, “I understand all of this.” [Laughs.] I don’t even know if that’s a good book, but I remember when I read it, I was going, Wow, Dylan’s really deep. Then I went, But what is he talking about? Anyway, go ahead.

You got a good fishing story?

We were all hanging the other day — who was I talking to? Oh, I’ll tell ya! I was with my friend Skip Herman, who I fish with. Huey was there.

Huey? You don’t mean Huey Lewis?

Huey Lewis, yeah. Excellent angler. I think he had a scholarship to Cornell and —

The fishing story?

Oh, sorry. We’re sitting around telling these stories, how fly fishermen do, and I said, “Most of my fishing stories, they’re seldom about catching fish.” However, probably the best fish I ever caught was a steelhead up in British Columbia with a broken rod that I had to hold together in two pieces. When I say I chased this fish down: in and out of a drift boat five or six times. And when I say I chased this fish down: giant, hot white-water stretch of the Sustut in British Columbia, for about over an eighth of a mile, maybe closer to a quarter of a mile, and landed it with a broken rod. A buddy of mine who was a rod builder, I’ve never told him that his rod broke. He’ll take it well, he’s a good guy. You know, I probably do have some fishing stories. Maybe I’ll tell ya another time.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity from two conversations.

#Michael Keaton #Batman #Beelejuice #Worth #The Flash #The Protege #Birdman #Spotlight #Dopesick #V.A. Vandevere #Tim Burton

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marvelyningreen · 3 years

Text

Aftershocks - From the Series Finale (a deleted scene)

Night 1 | Night 2 | Night 3

[Summary: You’d traveled to Westview to rescue Peter. Getting locked away by some sinister witch might’ve delayed you a bit, but you’d escaped, and you weren’t going to be stopped again.

Warnings: mild language, references to injury / mind control / death

Notes: Peter Maximoff x reader. This was meant to be a flashback during Night 2, but it turned into way too long of a digression. So, here it is: presented as a deleted scene while I finish Night 3. It’s a bit sparse in the places where I would’ve just been summarizing the episode, but I figure you already know the details. Into Tomorrow is a continuation of the scene, more or less.

Tag list: @cowboyenorgy ]

After an indeterminate amount of time sneaking around Westview, trying to find your way back to the street where Vision lived, you’d finally done it. It might’ve taken days, or maybe it’d only been hours. It was so hard to tell here.

One minute it was spontaneously Halloween. The next, the entire layout of the town kept shifting around you until you were completely lost. But you’d made it.

As much as you’d wanted to go straight to find Peter, you knew you couldn’t do it on your own. You didn’t know how to counteract the witch’s powers. Vision seemed to know something, though. He was your best chance.

Unfortunately, his house seemed to be deserted. From your hiding place, you couldn’t see any lights on, or any signs of movement. Maybe he was at work? You’d waited this long already; you figured you might as well stay put until he came home.

And just as you’d decided on that course of action, the sound of breaking glass erupted from the neighbor’s house. The attic window shattered outward, and two people crashed through it, landing on the lawn.

One of them – a woman you hadn’t seen before – stuck a perfect three-point-landing more or less facing your direction. The second – a man – didn’t land nearly as gracefully, but still seemed unhurt. You couldn’t see his face, but you were certain it had to be Peter.

He stood, moving as though to cut off the woman’s escape route. He gestured for the woman to get up.

“I can do this all day, babe!” he called.

Scowling, the woman straightened up, dusting herself off and clearly getting ready for round two. The witch was nowhere in sight. Maybe you’d have a better chance of getting through to Peter if he was on his own. You scrambled out of hiding.

“Peter!” you shouted.

Confused, they both turned to look your way. You didn’t have a chance to say anything more before Peter sped over to you – and you just then noticed how weirdly slow he was moving. Instead of almost appearing to teleport, he was a visible blur that your gaze could follow as it approached you.

Peter stopped directly in front of you. He smiled.

“Hey again,” he said, and cheerfully threw you halfway down the block.

You landed hard, skidding another yard or so before coming to a stop. You thanked your lucky stars that you’d landed on somebody’s lawn, not on the pavement. When the hell had Peter gotten superhuman strength, anyway?

As you sat up, the woman ran to your side.

“Are you alright?” she asked, casting a wary glance back towards Peter, who was strolling casually towards you both.

“I’m okay,” you said. You were winded, and you could tell already that you’d added some new scrapes and bruises to your growing collection, but it didn’t seem like you’d been hurt.

“Captain Rambeau,” she introduced herself, offering a brisk handshake.

“You can call me Ace,” you said, “I’m… a friend.”

“Of his?” The captain raised an eyebrow incredulously.

“Yeah, well, he’s not exactly himself at the moment.”

Peter had stopped a ways away from you. You weren’t sure why he didn’t try to attack again.

“You called him ‘Peter,’” said Captain Rambeau. “Is that his real name?”

You nodded.

“Listen, ladies, if you wanted to make this a threesome, all you had to do was ask!” Peter called.

“And I’m guessing that’s not his real personality,” said the captain, catching sight of your disgusted expression.

“Not remotely,” you said.

The captain shrugged. “Well, guess we know what Agnes is into. The witch,” she explained. “The one who’s controlling him.”

“Why’s he just standing there?” you asked. You weren’t opposed to getting a second to breathe, but it was weird.

“I think he’s just supposed to stop us from getting to Wanda,” she said.

At that point, you hadn’t the faintest idea who Wanda was or how she was part of this whole mess, but you figured you could ask later. As you looked over at Captain Rambeau, you noticed her eyes glowing an unearthly blue. That was… unexpected.

“It’s that necklace,” she said. “That’s how Agnes is controlling him. If we can find some way to break it… But he’s too fast.”

Fast? Maybe by normal human standards, but he was moving at a crawl compared to his usual speed. Wait. That was it.

Your abilities didn’t work well in this world, but maybe they’d be more effective against something from your own world.

“Listen,” you said. “I think I can slow him down for you, if you think you can get that necklace. Act like you’re going to make a break for it, and when he tries to go past me, I’ll catch him.”

Captain Rambeau nodded, and took off down the street. Peter immediately gave chase.

Back home, Peter was far too fast for you to ever catch. But here, with him moving like he was running through quicksand? You might actually stand a chance.

You took a deep breath, reaching out. You felt a familiar resonance, and the sensation of something setting like a fishhook.

Peter slammed to a halt like he’d hit a brick wall. He paused for a moment, seemingly confused. He tried to run, but only managed a casual jog. It was working.

Then Peter turned back towards you, his expression something between furious and impressed. Your arm began to shake as you felt him struggling against you.

You really hoped this Captain Rambeau wasn’t going to leave you hanging.

“Well, looks like you’re good for something after all, huh, babe?” he said, strolling towards you.

“Peter would know,” you said, trying to keep his focus on you. “I don’t just break the laws of reality. I can enforce them, too.”

Peter sighed, shaking his head. “I really wish you weren’t complicating things so much. You could’ve just walked away, but-”

At that moment, Captain Rambeau dashed in, grabbing hold of the necklace and tearing it from Peter’s throat.

With a gasp, Peter’s smug expression shifted into a look of horrified panic. He looked at his hands like he was shocked he could move them. Then his gaze snapped back to you.

Your name – your real name – burst from his lips in a strangled cry. He rushed towards you, but stopped short, eyes widening as he took in the state of you.

“Oh, God… What did I-?”

“It’s okay, Peter,” you said. “I’m okay.”

You took his hands, and for a second you were worried that he was going to collapse.

Peter shook his head vehemently. “But you’re hurt!”

“Are you kidding?” you said. “Raven’s kicked my ass worse than this in training.”

Which was a lie, but at that point, you would’ve said just about anything to calm him down. It seemed to work, but only just.

“You’re here,” he said. His voice was quieter now. “You’re actually here.”

“Of course I’m here,” you said. “I came to bring you home.”

That wild look hadn’t left Peter’s eyes as they stared into yours. Gently, you took his face in your hands. At your touch, his eyes closed, and his head bowed just a little. You moved closer, pressing your forehead to his. He laid his hands on yours. His shaky breathing began to grow steadier.

Before either of you could say anything else, you were interrupted be the honking of a car horn.

Or rather, a funnel cake truck horn, to be exact. The driver – a bespectacled brunette – leaned her head out the window.

“As adorable as this is – and hi, by the way,” she called, “I think we’ve got bigger problems right now.”

Peter blinked rapidly, trying to pull himself together. He turned to Captain Rambeau.

“She’s right. Those kids are in danger. We have to do something. I’ll explain everything later,” he said, looking back at you, clearly distressed. “You’re already hurt. Just… stay safe until we get this under control, okay? Please.”

It killed you to think of letting Peter out of your sight after you’d only just gotten him back, but you nodded. You didn’t know what was going on or what kids were in danger, but you and Peter were X-Men. The safety of civilians always came first.

“It looks like they were headed downtown, Darcy,” Captain Rambeau called back to the driver. “Take Ace and follow us there, alright?”

With one last backward glance, Peter took off after Captain Rambeau.

As quickly as you were able, you climbed into the passenger side of the truck, smiling awkwardly at the driver as she put it back in gear and started off.

“Dr. Darcy Lewis,” she introduced herself, side-eying you. “Not the kind of doctor you clearly need, though. Sorry.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said. There was silence for a moment.

“So…” she said, “You and fake Pietro, huh?”

“His name is Peter,” you said, “But, yeah. I came to rescue him. We’re… not from around here.”

You were honestly too tired to explain more than that, but Dr. Lewis seemed to accept that explanation.

“Well, it’s not the first time I’ve met people who aren’t from around here.” She shrugged. “You ever heard of Thor? God of Thunder? He’s a friend of mine. Nice guy; great muscles.”

She said it so casually. Any other time, you would’ve thought this woman was nuts. But after time in Westview? Her claims didn’t sound that outlandish.

“Huh. Nice.” You nodded, impressed. Then, “This is gonna sound like a stupid question, but, uh… Who’s Wanda?”

Dr. Lewis gaped at you incredulously for a moment.

“Oh, boy…” she sighed.

Dr. Lewis gave you the rundown on the whole situation, and frankly? It was a lot. Parts of it – stuff about Avengers and Infinity Stones and snaps and blips – didn’t make any sense to you. But you did manage to grasp some of the more immediately relevant bits. Namely:

Wanda was immensely powerful. She had a twin brother named Pietro who – like your Peter – had superhuman speed, and who had died saving lives, leaving Wanda completely alone in the world.

Vision was apparently some sort of android, and also technically dead…?

But some real piece of work named Hayward had recreated a brainwashed zombie version of Vision and brought it to life using Wanda’s powers, and he was now trying to kill Wanda to cover up his crimes.

How the witch named Agnes and her kidnapping and mind-controlling Peter played into this, Dr. Lewis wasn’t entirely sure.

“Finally!” she said, apropos of nothing. “I swear, Wanda must’ve changed the whole layout of the town. The center is just up ahead.”

There was some sort of commotion overhead, and on the ground, too. Two young boys (probably the kids Peter had mentioned) stood in the street, facing down some military-looking types.

You and Dr. Lewis both shouted in alarm as one man pulled out a handgun and aimed it directly at the kids. From around the corner, Captain Rambeau and Peter ran in, and –

Shots rang out. You could only watch in horror as the man opened fire.

The strange blue blur that was Peter struggled to catch and redirect as many as he could, but it wasn’t enough. Two rounds tore through Captain Rambeau’s midsection, but…

You were still too far away to see exactly what happened, but Captain Rambeau seemed to glow, or phase out of sight for a second, and then she straightened up – unharmed. One of the boys raised his hand, evidently catching the single bullet that had gotten past Peter and the captain.

The man – Hayward, judging by the doctor’s lurid swearing – threw down his gun and hurried to climb back into his vehicle.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Dr. Lewis said under her breath. “Ace, hang onto something.”

“What are you- Oh, shit!”

You grabbed the door to brace yourself as Dr. Lewis gunned it down the street. Before Hayward could begin to make his escape, the funnel cake truck slammed into the side of his Humvee, pinning him inside.

Hayward turned, glaring daggers at Dr. Lewis.

“Have fun in prison,” she said cheerily.

You know what? You take it all back. Dr. Lewis was, in fact, kinda nuts. It was still a pretty badass move, though.

As steam began trickling from the truck’s busted radiator, Dr. Lewis unfastened her seatbelt.

“Well, looks like this thing’s not going anyplace, and neither is he,” she said, nodding at Hayward. “We might as well – I dunno – see if we can help or something.”

As you followed her lead, you heard Peter shouting: “How was that in any way ‘staying safe?’”

“Yeah, well, that’s what seatbelts are for,” Dr. Lewis called back. “And you’re welcome, by the way.”

Peter was there beside the truck as you stepped down out of it. You shifted your weight experimentally onto your injured leg, and let out a strangled yelp. Okay, bad idea. Peter immediately looped your arm around his shoulders and wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Lean on me, lean on me,” he said, “I got you.”

You fought the impulse to collapse against him completely. You’d spent… days? You didn’t know how long – scrambling and searching and breaking out of hospitals and hiding in hedges just to get back to him. You just wanted to hold him and sleep for at least a week.

But the whole business wasn’t over yet. As Peter helped you limp around the truck, you saw that there was another man standing by the kids and Captain Rambeau, talking to Dr. Lewis. He skin was an unnatural shade of red (was that face paint or something?), and he was wearing this strange caped costume. Catching sight of Peter, the man’s eyes narrowed.

“No, it’s okay,” said Dr. Lewis. “He’s cool. He’s with us now.”

The man didn’t seem convinced. His gaze shifted to you, and he tilted his head curiously.

“Ace?” he said.

You blinked. “Vision?”

The voice was the same. The eyes, too. You wouldn’t have recognized him otherwise. He was the only friendly face you’d seen in this place. You couldn’t help but smile at seeing him again. Still, you remembered what Dr. Lewis had said – you’re talking to a ghost.

“Do you two know each other?” asked Dr. Lewis.

“We met, briefly,” you said, “When I first got into town. I’m glad you’re alright.”

“So, the friend you were looking for…?” Vision inclined his head inquiringly towards Peter.

You nodded. Peter waved, letting out a stilted, rueful laugh.

“Your children…?” you asked, gesturing to the boys.

Vision put his arms around them both, a proud smile brightening his worried expression.

“My children,” he said, “And… up there is my wife.”

As one, the whole group looked up to the two women still locked in combat above you.

Captain Rambeau frowned. “Can’t we do something?”

“I tried,” said Vision, “But it seems that Wanda wants to finish this on her own terms, unaided.”

The others kept worried eyes on the proceedings, but Peter turned his attention back to you, helping you to sit down on a nearby bench. He knelt in front of you.

“Scale of one to ten,” he said, “How worried should I be?”

“One,” you said. “I’ll be fine. I don’t think anything’s broken, so I’m calling that a win.”

“Hmm, nope. Still worried. Less dire question – why is everybody calling you ‘Ace?’”

“The professor said not to tell anybody my real name,” you said. “There was no way of knowing what I was walking into. We didn’t think we should tell anyone too much.”

“Oh…” Peter’s mouth twisted into a guilty grimace. “I kinda told Monica everything when we were running over here.”

Red light flashed blindingly above you, drawing your attention upwards.

[The battle proceeds as in canon, ending with Agatha’s defeat.]

Wanda turned back to the others, smiling. The boys ran to hug her, and Vision was close behind. You were too far away to hear what was being said, but at Vision’s words, Wanda’s smile faded. Putting their arms around each other, the family walked a little ways down the street.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

Peter shook his head. A pained expression crossed Captain Rambeau’s face. She closed her eyes, turning away.

“This Vision was never real to begin with,” said Dr. Lewis, her tone oddly solemn. “I think he’s saying goodbye.”

At that, she, too, turned away. Whatever passed between Wanda, Vision, and their children – their farewell wasn’t for prying eyes to watch.

Peter seized your hand and leaned his forehead against your shoulder. You bowed your head over his, closing your eyes. After a moment, you felt something pass over you.

It was that same feeling of overwhelming grief that’d struck you when you first entered Westview, but you understood it now. If you had lost Peter – truly lost him, for good – you imagined that it’d feel something like that.

It only lasted a second, though. In its wake, everything felt brighter, colder.

When you looked up, you cast an uncertain glance back down the main street. There stood Wanda and her children.

Vision was nowhere to be seen.

Wanda pressed her hands to her mouth and slowly sank to her knees. The boys knelt beside her, crying openly, and she pulled them close.

Your heart broke to see them, and you turned away again. It felt wrong to intrude on their grief, even from a distance. Westview had changed. The town seemed faded and dull, somehow desaturated.

Peter had changed, too. His hair was silver again, instead of that strange dirty-blond shade, and his clothes were the same ones he’d been wearing when he was taken.

“You’re all yourself again,” you said.

Peter looked down at himself in surprise. His eyes widened, and he frantically felt his pockets before letting out a sigh of relief. Something about him looked too bright for your pale surroundings. Maybe it was the fact that neither of you belonged to that world, or maybe it was the fact that you were so damn glad to have him back.

Or it might’ve been that this was the first time you’d seen him smile since he was freed from the witch’s control. You leaned in and kissed him.

“God, I missed you,” he said.

Before he could say anything else, another conversation interrupted him.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Dr. Lewis was saying. “I was just trying to keep him from getting away.”

She and Captain Rambeau surveyed the dented Humvee in which Hayward was still trapped.

“Well, we’re gonna have to get him out of there somehow,” said the captain.

“Can’t you do some sorta…” Dr. Lewis extended her arms, wiggling her fingers in the direction of the vehicle, “Now?”

Captain Rambeau laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Darcy.”

Suddenly, the former funnel cake truck lurched. With a strained metallic groan, it was dragged slowly back and away from the Humvee, leaving just enough space for someone to hypothetically get through and apprehend Hayward.

“What the-?”

Captain Rambeau turned to look back towards you and Peter, or rather, to the street behind you. You caught Peter’s eye just before turning to look yourself, and smiled. Of course.

Peter’s eyes widened again. “Dad?”

“Professor?” you exclaimed.

You might’ve expected Mr. Lehnsherr to come after Peter when he found out what’d happened, but you certainly didn’t expect to see him standing on the main street of Westview with Professor Xavier at his side. Peter stood up, but anything he might’ve said was cut off – once again – by Dr. Lewis.

“Hey, cheekbones!” she called out. “Nice one.”

Upon realizing that he was the one being addressed with that remark, Mr. Lehnsherr gave her a perplexed smile and lowered his arm. But his expression turned serious again at the sound of approaching sirens.

“It’s okay,” said Captain Rambeau. “Agent Woo is with is. I’ll talk to him.”

She and Dr. Lewis went to meet the approaching vehicles, while Mr. Lehnsherr and the professor moved quickly towards you.

“Are you two alright?” the professor asked.

“We’re fine,” you said.

“I’m fine,” Peter corrected. “You can barely walk.”

The professor’s brows furrowed in concern. “I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”

“I’m glad you did, though” you said frankly. “I wouldn’t wish this experience on anybody.”

Peter turned his attention to Mr. Lehnsherr, eyeing him with an expression that seemed a little incredulous, but pleased.

“So. you really came all the way from Genosha for me?” he said.

“I heard you’d been abducted to another reality; of course I came back. Something this ridiculous could only happen to you, Peter,” said Mr. Lehnsherr. Then his expression softened, “I’m glad you’re alright, son.”

“What happened here, exactly?” asked the professor, as he surveyed the street.

“Well, my perspective on events might be kinda limited, but you can see for yourself.”

You leaned towards the professor slightly, offering your thoughts. He touched your temple, and that odd dreamlike sensation washed over your mind as he sifted through your memories of Westview. You were glad you’d asked Dr. Lewis to explain things to you. Maybe the professor could glean more meaning from the story than you’d been able to.

When you opened your eyes, the professor looked pensive, and no less concerned.

“I think it’s high time we get the two of you home,” he said.

“Not that I want to distrust government agents,” said Mr. Lehnsherr, keeping a wary eye on Hayward’s arrest in progress, “But I’m inclined to agree with Charles.”

Peter frowned hesitantly. His gaze had drifted to Wanda and her sons.

“Just… give me one minute, alright?” he said. “There’s something I wanna say first.”

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #peter maximoff fanfiction #wandavision fanfic #those moments when you ask yourself ‘how do I keep this oc out of the way to preserve canon?’#I also had to give you a nickname/code name to get around using the y/n placeholder XP #just shouting into the void

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dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3 · 3 years

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TPWP Chapter 19 Spoilers!!!

Hi guys!

So, in chapter 19 of TPWP, I chose to go a more explicit route than it had been going previously. I decided to write about why I did that, as well as go over Mondo’s mentality during it all, since I don’t have his perspective written yet, oops.

It prolly will be best to not read this until after reading the chapter, though, or else this won’t make any sense, ha.

You can find the explanation under the read more.

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

Okay. So, when I was originally thinking about this story, I didn’t have much idea of where I wanted to go. Right? I was just like “I have the desire to write, so I’m gonna write.” No plans for where the story would go, no real end game in mind. Just… I wanna write, so I’m gonna write. Everything else will come with time.

It wasn’t until around chapter… 13, 14? that I started to have a strong idea for where I wanted this story to go. I’d had small ideas before, like in chapter 12 I knew I wanted to add a Halloween festival (which originally was going to be a dance before I remembered Japan does festivals, not dances), and I knew I wanted to have the sauna scene somewhere. Also, in chapter 9 I knew I wanted to have Chihiro befriend Mondo and have them tell Mondo their secret (which, by the by, was originally going to occur back in chapter 9 instead of in chapter 17. Rather than have Taka get all passionate and demanding, Taka and Mondo were going to overhear some dude harassing Chi in the library, they were going to follow the voice, and Mondo was going to be all “oh dude you’re gonna regret that,” ha. That was gonna have Taka be all “oh dude, he’s not all bad, is he?? Huh…” and Chi would be like “woah he’s a nice guy. Maybe I can tell him my secret???” But then I got sidetracked with the passion and couldn’t fit that in, but knew I wanted it somewhere. But I’m very much digressing, ha).

Anyway! While I had individual plot points figured out, I didn’t have anything major. Nothing concrete, just a bunch of mostly unrelated ideas.

But then. Then, in chapter 13, I wrote the, uh… “nocturnal emission” scene. I did that mostly because I was growing tired of the slow burn and wanted some relief of having them kiss and confess, without it ruining my plan. But when I was writing and editing it, I kept thinking “man, wouldn’t it be cool if they did something like this? If they were all “dude you’re so awesome and I’m so attracted to you and I really wanna do ~~~sexual stuff~~~ with you, hahaha. Platonically, of course!!! Ahahaha!!!!”

I didn’t think it would work at first. I knew I wanted this to be a slow burn and I knew I wanted to end this story right before winter break, so I couldn’t have them get together until this story ended. I was afraid that having them ~~do things~~ together would have them go too fast and would make things complicated.

But I was really starting to like the idea. I began seeing ways I could play with the idea without it being inherently romantic, with having them still deny their feelings. I didn’t know if it would work, but I decided to lay down the groundwork anyway. I wrote chapter 18, figuring it would be funny and make both boys painfully aware that they ~~~like~~~ the other (even if Mondo denies it), if nothing else. And then I figured, well. Why not write chapter 19? Worst case scenario, I don’t use it and write something else. And I usually hate doing things like that. Once something is written, that becomes my canon, usually, and it’s hard for me to do anything different. But I can do it, so I figured it was worth the risk.

I was very iffy with the chapter at first. The first part of the chapter was hard to write and was initially… not good. Very clunky and awkwardly worded and I didn’t like it. But I kept going because… whatever. I had the idea of making Taka aware of Mondo’s decidedly not platonic interactions with him, since I figured that even Taka would begin to see the truth when all the evidence points in that direction. Plus, I figured it would be good set up for what I wanted to have happen. Taka does not strike me as the kind of person who would do anything sexual unless he really liked and trusted the person he was with. I kind of head canon Taka as being somewhere on the ace spectrum, ha. Projection, I know. Maybe graysexual, with Mondo as a kind of exception, or demisexual, feeling attracted to Mondo now that he was romantically interested in him. But because of that, I didn’t think he’d just be willing to jump into Mondo’s bed, so to speak, if he didn’t have some inkling that maybe his feelings were reciprocated.

And as for the actual sexual encounter… that had come to me back in chapter 14, when Mondo and Taka were discussing all of that. The way I saw it, the idea kind of… stuck around in Mondo’s head. Now, I’m ace. Right? I don’t really understand sexual attraction. And while I do feel desire and all that, I definitely understand people who don’t feel anything sexual at all. But I imagine that allo (people who feel sexual attraction in general) people with no concept of what asexuality is wouldn’t understand something like that. They wouldn’t understand not feeling desire. And so, it concerns Mondo, who uses that sort of thing to destress and forget his troubles for a little while.

Upon hearing that Taka doesn’t, and knowing how tense Taka always is, it niggles at Mondo and makes him worry for Taka. Now, there is absolutely nothing wrong with not feeling sexual desire and not wanting to pleasure yourself. I imagine that Mondo could even understand if Taka didn’t feel desire at all, and if he didn’t want to do things like that in general. But what concerns Mondo is that he KNOWS Taka feels sexual desire. I’ve not yet discussed this in the chapters yet, but, uh… ya know Taka’s “nocturnal emissions?” Well… let’s just say that he is very vocal during them. And he has been known to let slip a certain name. The owner of said name definitely hearing Taka and knowing exactly what that means, even if it kind of shorts his brain out to think it, ha.

Anyway. This has been rattling around in Mondo’s head for weeks by this point. If my timeline was how I originally had it, it would be longer, but since I had to condense everything, it’s been like… 2 weeks since Halloween? And Mondo has been thinking about it constantly despite himself. Even more so after the bath. He knows Taka is tense, knows that jerking off helps relieve tension, and he knows that Taka is attracted to him in some regard, even if Taka thinks it’s wrong.

And I would like to state for the record that Mondo ABSOLUTELY meant the offer innocently when he first brought it up. He just wanted to be all “hey bro. So, I know you don’t do this since you find it morally wrong, but it’s not, and it would be cool if you tried it. No one would blame you. And if you wanted to think of /me/ while doing it, well that would be cool too, HAHAHAHAHAHA-”

But when Taka started getting all upset, Mondo started getting upset. He really cares about Taka, and he hates seeing him cry and be unhappy. And when Taka mentioned feeling broken and wrong, Mondo /hated/ that. He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with Taka at all. Even if Taka didn’t feel any arousal, he wouldn’t think there was anything wrong with Taka and would be 100% supportive.

But the thing is, he /does/ know that Taka feels arousal. He does know that Taka feels these things and is perfectly able to do it all, given his dreams. And so, he /knows/ that Taka’s problem is a mental one. And he thinks that maybe if Taka just… forces through the problem, like Mondo often will, well… maybe that would help. And Taka would feel better about himself. And he’d be able to have a way to relieve tension.

(And, of course, Mondo would be able to see the guy he’s unwittingly crushing hard on jerk himself off, but that’s completely beside the point, right???? Mondo’s just a really good bro and wants to help his bro in any way he can. Bro.)

He didn’t quite realize how much he’d enjoy the whole proceedings, though. And oh, did he enjoy it. Watching Taka touch himself. Watching Taka watch /him/ as he touched himself, his eyes full of desire and heat, clearly desiring Mondo deeply. It was the first time he realized that maybe… just /maybe/ there is something more to what he’s feeling. More than the familial love he’s been telling himself he feels. And it’s not like he’s never felt attracted to Taka, or like he’s never wanted him, right? He has. Many times. But those times he’d make excuses. Tell himself he was just horny in general and that it had nothing to do with Taka personally. That he didn’t actually want Taka but just wanted /someone/. But this… this is the first time he can’t really excuse it away, not with how much desire he currently is feeling. He does his best not to think about it, just keeps going, wanting to help Taka, but… it’s now there in the back of his mind. A tiny little seed of doubt and desire.

And when Taka pulls away, tears in his eyes, saying that there’s something wrong with him, that he’s broken, well… Mondo is so far gone by this point, ridiculously turned on, and he’s drowning in his concern. He hates seeing Taka so unhappy with himself, and he wants to prove to Taka that there’s nothing wrong with him. And with how far gone he is, he doesn’t think about how bad an idea this whole thing is. He doesn’t think about how supposedly straight guys shouldn’t do things like this. He doesn’t think about how he shouldn’t even be thinking about things like this at all, not if he were truly as straight as he tries to pretend that he is. All he knows is that Taka is distressed and unhappy. And that he’d do absolutely anything to make him happy again.

He didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as he does. Even with the niggling thought in the back of his head that he’d been enjoying the previous encounter a bit too much, he didn’t think he’d be so turned on by touching Taka. He thought he’d do it kind of militantly, a task he had to do, something that was kind of meaningless but important, nonetheless.

But that’s not how it felt. And Mondo was so far gone that he couldn’t begin to chastise himself for feeling how he was feeling. It was like a religious experience for Mondo, honestly. An epiphany. A moment of “oh. So that’s what I’ve been feeling.” He has no idea what it means, or why he feels like this, but he… he /likes it/. Likes touching Taka, likes making Taka feel good. He likes kissing Taka, too, and in that moment… he wants nothing more than to have Taka. All of Taka. He is so far gone that he can’t close the floodgates, can’t stop the desire he’s feeling. He loves Taka, he already knew that. But for the first time… for the first time, he realizes that he is /attracted/ to Taka, too. And it’s not as terrifying as he would have thought.

Of course… this all changes once they’re done, and the desire has faded. Now… getting a bit meta here. But like I said in the end notes, I initially had considered making Mondo completely fine with everything that happened. He was going to be like “well, guess we shouldn’t call each other kyoudai anymore, heh…” and it would be awkward, but ultimately, they’d realize they had sexual feelings for each other.

But! If you recall what I said earlier, I wanted this to be a slow burn. A VERY slow burn. Having them get together this early wouldn’t make sense in that regard. And honestly… it wouldn’t make sense for Mondo’s character, either. Not how I’ve been writing him. So, I made a decision. Rather than be okay with it… I’d make him deny and repress himself again. I came up with a reason for him to be so repressed and scared of his feelings later on, which if you’ve read the TPWM companion chapter for chapter 6 of TPWP, you have some idea of what his problem is.

Anyway. Ultimately, my decision to do this was less “hehe hot bois being lewd” or whatever, and was more “this could lead somewhere interesting and I’m intrigued to seeing how this will play out.” I started having an idea of where to go with this story and this plot line was very important to it, honestly. I usually hate smut that has no bearing on the plot at all, so I made this smut be purposeful and have meaning. It leads somewhere and has a purpose, I promise.

Also! Why I had Taka have, um… erectile disfunction issues. Mostly, I figured that he’d be the type of person to be super embarrassed by that sort of thing. And after spending at least eight years forcing himself to ignore and repress the fact that he’s gay, not to mention how upright and moral he forces himself to be, I imagine that pleasuring himself was low on his priorities. And there are people who get so very anxious at the thought of self-pleasuring, usually religious people, but I figured it would work with Taka too. Plus, it was the only way I could imagine nudging Mondo into doing such a thing. Mondo cares so much for Taka and seeing him struggling would make Mondo want to do literally anything for him. Including, uh… that, ha. And it allowed Taka to accept the help. So… yeah. I don’t know much about ED and wasn’t looking forward to researching it for this story, so I didn’t do much research and was like… it’s fine, ha.

Anyway, I hope that all made sense! And I hope my reasoning for it all is understandable.

#TPWP #TPWP spoilers

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asterekmess · 4 years

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S3A - E7

So, I’m starting this episode right after finishing the last one, and I’m still kinda riled up from that bullshit. Let’s get to pissing me off and breaking my heart then. Blood/gore mention warnings for this episode.

Exercise your eyes! Read More!

Let’s just jump right in:

Starting right off with forcing myself into putting the tag in. Scott literally just listened to his mother say that giving this woman something to lessen the pain of her injuries could complicate things and make it harder to treat her. This is like an important medical thing. While yes, it’s really upsetting that she would need to keep being in pain, she needs to be able to identify and explain what exactly she’s feeling to the doctor who is going to be arrive really soon (though I have no idea why the nurses aren’t able to get these people set up. That’s what they did with me? I didn’t see a doctor for like an hour, but they didn’t make me sit in the fucking waiting room before dealing with the blood.) Her pain level will have a direct effect on how quickly she’s seen. This moment is meant to show Scott being soft-hearted, but with the doctor only ten minutes away, he could literally be making this woman’s life a whole lot worse by taking away her pain right now. There is a reason why after I was given pain killers for my surgery I wasn’t allowed to be near any heavy objects. Her pain is keeping her from irritating her wound. She could fuck herself up if she stops responding to the signals her body is trying to send her. This is not the right way to make Scott look kind. He looks like an idiot who doesn’t even listen to his nurse mom.

WHo the FUCK would keep driving with a bunch of bugs in the car? She’s not even on the interstate! PULL OVER IDIOT.

I’m actually agreeing with Scott on this one. I have no idea how medically accurate what melissa just did was, but it look pretty damn cool.

WHat the hell is this conversation? First off, Ethan, you made VERY clear in the last episode that you want to bite Danny even after he said no. Even if that was the possession talking, it was based on what YOU wanted. Danny’s not safe with you. Second, what is this bullshit about knowing Lydia is the important one? Important to Stiles and ALlison maybe. Scott literally never talks to Lydia. THIRD how exactly did you guys come up with that idea when you went after them on the FIRST DAY? You sniff him on them? cus’ if so your noses are damaged.

what...what is with this ghost car shit? She was in the middle of the city, more than ten minutes away from the hospital and behind the traffic caused by the ten car pileup. How did the car drive itself ALL THE WAY here?

Ethan. you’re an alpha. you have night vision. You shouldn’t need to ask what the fucking MOTH in the middle of the driver’s seat is.

HI NOAH! I’ll be honest. I missed you. You’re a really good actor and you just make me feel all safe. WHich is weird bc I hate father figures and I hate cops. Linden Ashby is just too good, I guess.

It’s so frustrating watching Deucalion walk around with humans pretending to be blind. Because he is. He is Pretending to be blind. He’s already proved like a dozen times that he can see just fine when he turns on the Alpha eyes. Which doesn’t make SENSE because Deaton said his iris’ were permanently damaged. He doesn’t have two different sets of eyes! And it sucks, bc they put in these little things that it would’ve been awesome to see if they included an actual blind person properly. The casual use of the cane, taking someone’s elbow and the trust that implies, and even this. Having (that looks like ethan’s coat) Ethan explain what’s in front of Deucalion, describing the scene to him.

DEREK YOUR SECURITY SYSTEM SUCKS. HOW DID THEY DO THAT WITHOUT YOU WAKING UP? WITHOUT CORA NOTICING?

Also, Cora, you look amazing, can you please be my friend and can I hug you? I love your shirt.

I HATE THIS BITCH. Fuck you Julia.

uhh....why is an English teacher filling in for a chemistry/geometry teacher? That’s not how substitutes work. Making a joke out of it doesn’t make it make any more sense. SHe shouldn’t be doing that, especially if Harris has been missing for a while.

So your office can keep werewolves out, but not darach? Okay, let me go full conspiracy theorist here. we only know Deaton saw the moths because we see it. He just tells Scott that he’s going to be taken. This is a story that Scott is telling, so he couldn’t know that deaton saw the moths unless deaton told him. Julia is currently teaching a class. Are you seriously saying she doesn’t need to be involved at all in order to do these kidnappings? She can just put them on a timer and let the autmoatic spellwork do the job for her? OR Is deaton lying about being taken, and this is just a test he came up with to force Scott’s “True Alpha”ness to the surface? JUlia clearly had other plans for her sacrifice. I don’t think Deaton was a ‘distraction’ to keep Scott from finding the actual sacrifice. I think it was Deaton using the situation to his advantage.

why does deaton have a canine acupressure chart on his wall? I’ve never seen a vet’s office have that. Does he do alternative medicine for dogs??

BOYD. ISAAC. MY BOYS. I can’t tell you how much I love this. It’s so sneaky and annoying and so pack-ish I just love it so much.

BOYD YOU ARE A GENIUS BOY AND I LOVE YOU.

I swear, like ninety percent of what the ‘adults’ in this show say is ‘go back to school.’ ‘shouldn’t you be in school’ yadda yadda. Like, they want so badly to write the teens as though they never have to go to class, so they just make them constantly skip and ignore that these are fucking teenagers who would never be able to get out of school that easily, and they handwave it with someone occasionally going ‘hmm, weird that they aren’t in school’ and then just ignoring it? Truancy is like a THING that you can get in major trouble for. At least Boyd and Isaac called in sick. You know how you could have avoided all this class bullshit? PUT THE FUCKING SEASON DURING THE SUMMERTIME DUMBASSES.

It just hurts seeing Stiles beg for Scott not to make him tell his dad, and then turn right around and admit that it’s not okay for him to let other people suffer just because it scares him that he might lose his only parent. Like, he walks into that sacrifice with eyes wide fucking open and it hurts.

I’m not talking about these dumb sex scenes anymore. I’m so tired of them.

OKay, can we talk about the fire alarm thing though? It sounds like a jokey kind of thing with Aiden teasing Lydia about wanting to leave during the fire alarm but... Remember how Lydia was haunted by Peter’s burnt corpse? How she can hear the cries of the dead, and how she went wandering into the crumbling remains of the Hale house? There’s every chance that Lydia remembers the fire through Peter’s eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was forever freaked by fire alarms.

Man, Cora and Lydia, together? The sass involved? If I didn’t ship Allydia so hard, I’d totally ship Cora and Lydia.

ONce again, I wanna point out that AIDEN IS A MURDERER. Literally all it would take is someone Explaining to Lydia that he is serial killer and she’d never touch him again.

Cora and Stiles together? I’m loving it. I just, wanna point out that when Scott showed up Cora couldn’t have given less of a shit. But here....Cora doesn’t remotely question Stiles’ authority here. She immediately goes along with it and when he tells her to let go of Cora she does. Even though she has no real reason to. When she asks about the spirit board, it’s a legit question and she doesn’t argue or make fun.

PLus there’s the whole ‘Well do you know any spirits” which straight up just confirms for me that ghosts and shit are real in this universe. I trust the Hales as lore sources and Cora’s matter-of-fact tone is good enough for me.

jesus christ i wanna get deucalion and Peter in a room together and watch them just...monologue random facts and trivia at each other endlessly. “Lacrosse was originally played by Native Americans.” “Do you know what a metronome is?” Guys. come on.

Exasperated Stiles is literally my favorite Stiles. “We’re trying to save lives here for the love of god” “YOU”RE SOMETHING, OKay? JUST put out your Hand” It’s so fucking good.

Someone EXPLAIN TO ME how Scott learned to do fucking gymnastics. WHEN DID HE LEARN THIS? I hate this bullshit “I’m a werewolf, so I can do anything” shit. Especially since it’s LITERALLY just Scott they let do it. Everyone else has to actually do the work to learn it.

So...how exactly does Deucalion know where Deaton is? This literally just supports my theory that Deaton set the whole thing up.

ALSO, since I already have the tag I feel no shame in pointing out that Scott didn’t even HESITATE when he learned Derek was going to die. He immediately asked about Deaton. Yeah yeah, Deaton is a father figure to him, but if that’s an acceptable excuse for Scott to use now, then it should count as an acceptable one when it’s STILES” FATHER BEING THREATENED (but I digress, we’re not there yet.)

How did I never notice that Lydia’s Left handed?

andd.....how did Lydia know that? How did Scott know that? What did Deucalion say that even remotely hints at Danny? Scott doesn’t know about Danny’s paper...what?

Fuck yeah, vengeful Boyd. I dig it.

uh....why couldn’t allison just stand next to Scott in the closet. you know, like she did while he was getting in? Also, why was Allison hiding with him anyway? It’s HER HOUSE and HER BEDROOM.

um....okay, i know that we all like the sterek fics where they have to hide in the closet and one of them pops a boner...but I’mma be real, it’s a lot more uncomfortable when I know she broke up with Scott and they’ve been in there for like ten seconds. Plus there’s the whole knowing that she DEFINITELY has enough room to move away and so does he. *shrug*

Side note: Allison where the fuck do you get these clothes? THey’re both awesome and...kinda weird? Did you buy that dress in france?

okay, i’ll admit it, i do actually kinda like the camera angle through the map, with the blacklight lighting up the symbols (though the symbols flash on and off a little too fast). It’s kinda cool.

uh, how would taking the picture help? You don’t have the blacklight over it? None of the markings are visible anymore

why does Chris keep walking in and out? AND WHY DIDN”T ALLISON DO THAT THE FIRST TIME?

Stiles in plaid and Converse? Yes. Yes. please. That’s so my aesthetic I’m so fucking jealous. He looks COMFY.

This whole interaction is just so fucking weird XD

But like, why would Stiles know to go through Danny’s stuff instead of just asking him why he might’ve been targeted??

HOW WOULD THEY KNOW TO CUT THE POWER? THIS DOESN’T MAKE SENSE. Why does the ALpha pack keep showing up with way more information than they should have? It’s so annoying! It’s one thing if Morrell is feeding them information, but she wouldn’t have KNOWN about this! This was a good plan and there’s NO REASON the Alphas should’ve known what Boyd, Isaac, and Derek were doing! What the fuck?

....god i love Derek’s red eyes.

....god i hate that I know where this is going.

....god i wish he’d just let them tear her apart.

I know that it’s meant to be setting up the cora/stiles thing, but I love that she doesn’t hesitate to touch him, and that when she stops him it’s with a very quiet “stop.” She’s really gentle with him, which is just fucking nice. Werewolves taking care to be gentle with Stiles is like...nice.

Since when did Scott know about the plan with Boyd and Isaac? Since when did Stiles know? Is Boyd seriously texting Cora while Derek and Kali are fighting, or did he text her as soon as the power was cut?

is this the first time we see a werewolf bounce off the mountain ash? I mean, I think so, but we also see Peter in S1 try to get past some. There’s no glowing when he comes into contact with the shield. It’s the same with Isaac and Erica in s2. I mean...I guess they’re just trying to upgrade the ash stuff? I gotta say though, I kinda prefered when there were no special effects. It seemed cooler when literally the only thing making it work was belief and having this totally invisible barrier that Peter couldn’t cross. It was cool.

....i think i’m procrastinating seeing the end of this fight. I’m gonna fucking cry.

Why...why does Isaac turn and yell ‘wait’ to Boyd when he was the one running forward to Julia? I am confusion.

Dude, if Alphas could break through mountain ash barriers then Talia Hale WOULDN”T HAVE DIED. THE HALE PACK WOULDn’T HAVE DIED.

I wanna point out here, that this fight between Derek and Kali makes sense for once. Him losing makes sense. We know that the Alphas are much older than they look, or at least Kali, Deucalion and Ennis were. Aiden and Ethan don’t show up in that flashback. ANyway, Kali’s probably in her thirties or forties. SHe’s much older than Derek and she’s been fighting for a lot longer, not to mention fighting to kill.

Seriously, someone get my boy a quarterstaff to knock her feet away.

I really really don’t understand this stuff. Why is it whenever people (I mean Derek, because it’s literally always Derek) get forced to use their werewolf claws/teeth (because again I cannot believe this is happening more than once) he for some reason can’t just...shift back? Retract his claws and fangs? Derek has amazing control, he should totally have been able to do it. With the venom it made sense, he was paralyzed. But now??

What exactly was the fucking point of having Scott break the mountain ash barrier, just to have the sheriff show up and shoot Deaton down? That was literally useless.

also, Noah is an amazing shot. Hot damn.

ALSO. LIterally all this info about true alphas is being whispered to Scott when he’s all alone? How the fuck am i supposed to trust that deaton even ever said that shit to Scott? He could totally be lying about it.

WHAT KIND OF TOTAL BULLSHIT BACKWARDS ASS PLOTLINE IS THIS? After half the season being about Deucalion attacking Derek and trying to get him into the pack, suddenly “Deucalion isn’t after Derek, he’s after you” WHAT? THat’s the STUPIDEST LAZIEST SHIT I’VE EVER SEEN.

and to end my rant BOYD SHOULD NOT HAVE DIED. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? PETER STUCK HIS ENTIRE HAND THROUGH DEREK”S CHEST IN SEASON 1 WHIL IN HIS ALPHA FORM AND THREW HIM INTO A WALL AND DEREK SURVIVED JUST FINE. WHAT IS THIS NONSENSE???

Final Thoughts: No. No, no, no no, no, and no. The ‘plotline’ of this episode is literally like fifteen things that have nothing to do with each other.

Admittedly, there were a few nice moments. Cora, Lydia, and Stiles was an awesome trio. Boyd, Isaac, and Derek was an awesome trio. The sheriff? Amazing. Melissa? A fucking hero. Danny, a genius saint.

All in all, I’m going to tear this episode to shreds in order to rewrite it. Get fucked, Davis.

#personal #anti-scott mccall #TeenWolf-Rewatch

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herglowinggirl · 3 years

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can you see an ending to SOK where yun lives / yun redemption? i've been thinking a lot about the trend of abused kids never getting over their abuse and dying instead, and i feel like FCYee does a good job of writing yun and i don't want to say he's guilty of this trend, but sometimes i wonder if there could've been another ending. sorry if this ask is weird/uncomfy, you don't have to answer. have a nice day!

ok so...I am writing a meta about this (familiar anon i see you) but I feel like it’s worth answering here, too. this is less of a meta and more my personal thoughts so there’s no graphic descriptions of anything but I’ll put it under a cut because it got long, tw for canon typical violence/death.

short answer: yeah, there were workarounds but nothing that wouldn’t change the motifs, themes, plot points of the novels. I think the novels set out to make a different point on abuse than atla (think “it was wrong and it was cruel” as opposed to avatar “the obligation to be more than the sum of her grievances with the world” kyoshi) which isn’t a bad thing, necessarily. also, like, atla was a kids show and the kyoshi novels are ya and they very successfully make points on moral ambiguity and who gets to live and who gets to die. I agree and think f.c. yee handled it pretty well and yun was “meant” to die based on his backstory and evidence discussed below + the fact that he’s emulating the cycle of abuse by the end of the book. could it have been done differently? absolutely. was this story meant to? not really. you already said that it doesn’t feel like yun was killed off instead of writing about him dealing with the impacts of abuse, because the impacts were dealt with and explored just...he died at the end anyway, because of the places dealing with that stuff lead him. quoting a line from below the cut but yes, yun apologism on main. but I very much prefer to do it within canon, I think.

but would I want to see a version where yun lived? a little, yeah, because I wanted, well, justice for him. I wanted him to reunite with rangi and kyoshi and meet team avatar and live out the rest of his life happy and free from jianzhu because I love yun’s characterization, but as a character he has a bigger part of the narrative than being someone I’m attached to. I think that also begs the question should he have been used in those narratives of abuse the way that he was if someone like me (whose relationships could be classified under “complicated” at the very least) could relate and love him, especially for a YA novel? also not sure. maybe it’s not that deep, especially because what’s already been written and published is all but set in stone (and I am not very interested in writing fix-it fanfiction, just building on canon).

so those are my personal thoughts summed up (there’s extra rambling on why he was supposed to die + a plot workaround below). when all is said and done, this is a storyline I turn to in order to cope, but if there’s anything similar that perhaps ends with the survivor alive...any recs would be appreciated, from anyone! thank you for asking and making sure I’d feel ok ruminating on it <3 I hope you have a nice day too!

contextual evidence...zoryu going “some people will always change you back to who you were,” rangi asking kyoshi why she didn’t stop yun and kyoshi’s only answer being that seeing him had turned her back to her unsure state, yun trying to rid kyoshi of her fans and all her character growth during the final Boss Battle™...these things are a theme. you can’t strip the books of this touch of some are always meant to end, esp b/c that stuff was set up in trok (I always seem to come back to kyoshi asserting her only duty was to protect her loved ones in yokoya and then her duty becoming something much larger) so I feel like you couldn’t get rid of yun death without significant workarounds in the motifs and plot points in the novels.

that being said, I’m sure there are and were plot workarounds to killing yun. there’s an alternate universe out there where the novels ended with yun being a parallel to lao ge (I’ve talked about how they parallel each other before I think it’s very spicy; here and here), where he becomes jianzhu’s successor and just like lao ge kept kyoshi accountable on the other side of things, this time to the bureaucracy of the earth kingdom instead of lao ge’s agenda. this would also tie up when lao ge said something along the lines of “jianzhu does good work.” the novels are in no way perfect and the ending and pacing in the last third of the book do feel rushed to me (although the last kyoshi pov chapter ends sooo sentimental, enough for me to call f.c. yee a sap) but I feel they do establish the ways that kyoshi is going to cope with being a political figure, but I’ll have to elaborate on that somewhere else, so I digress.

the truth of it is this, and it is very harsh—yun was always supposed to be dead. we see it in how he and kyoshi have very similar backstories and the ways that jianzhu and kelsang are also pitted against each other their kids (well, kelsang’s kid, jianzhu’s pupil) end up dealing with the reasons why they were brought in. kelsang saved kyoshi from the goodness of his heart, he took her in and raised her like his own child (this makes me very emotional...) whereas yun was taken in because he was thought to be the avatar. then it turns out that kyoshi might be the avatar, but she is still kelsang’s daughter first, with kelsang honoring her wishes to keep it secret and letting her comfort him on the iceberg, and then when he believed kyoshi over jianzhu. establishing kyoshi’s humanity is really important in the novels so we can give kelsang a big thank you to him and then later to rangi to make sure kyoshi loves and treats herself well.

what i’m getting at here is that if yun hadn’t been taken in for being the avatar, he would’ve been dead and it’s a form of uh...narrative checkov’s gun in a way? there’s only so long you can make something of yourself by beating tourists at pai sho. kyoshi and yun both had expiration dates and only by the grace of jianzhu and kelsang did they survive. yun reassures himself that life is a game and “he will survive a turn longer.” his story is always about doing the next thing to survive, to prove he’s worthy of the survival and salvation given to him by jianzhu. kyoshi’s story is not about deserving avatarhood, it’s about becoming the avatar. it’s a key difference in the way the narrative treats them. if he’s hadn’t been mistaken for the avatar, he would literally be nothing. he’d be dead.

and there’s only so far you can go playing the person who deserved avatarhood if you’re not the avatar, and I think that mainly accounts for discrepancies in the idea of justice and how yun and kyoshi get to act on it because believe me, I would’ve loved to see yun tear the whole thing down. like, to see kyoshi have to kill yun for destroying the system (this is an oversimplification*) and then have her declared the “breakdown of negotiations?” like alright...sure, jan. let the boy kill a few people!! eat the rich!! murder isn’t even that bad anyway (/joking).

*yun is literally declared the residue of kuruk’s generation’s sins by hei-ran. this theme of legacy and cycles of abuse is emulated to him which brings me to acknowledge that yeah, it’s really shitty to see him killed when that theme lives in both him and kyoshi. it is a symbolic ending to the cycle of abuse when kyoshi “puts him away” (did she have to say that!!!) but that shit hurts, man. however the line “I’m sorry I said you would have to live with your pain. Because you won’t,” serves to acknowledge that by the end of the duology, yun himself has become an abuser. he’s shoving kyoshi into boxes, tries to kill rangi (to be fair rangi tried to kill him minutes/seconds earlier but he did try to kill her mom for allowing a man to try to kill him. it’s almost like...a cycle), he holds people hostage, terrorizes and murders several people in his pov chapters...at least lao ge was subtle about his work.

so yes, yun apologism on main. but I very much prefer to do it within canon, I think.

#you all know the song baby boy by mother mother?#yeah #thank you so much for asking <3 #anonymous #answered asks #z.txt

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ayamari-no-goshi · 3 years

Text

Eidolon 15 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary: AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Chapter warnings: Entrapment

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumbl

15. Unraveling Secrets

"Danny… Danny… It's time to get up…"

The dark haired boy's form remained unresponsive and face down on the bed which had been brought in for him. Hesitantly, Maddie ran her hand through the boy's dark locks. After finding out the child was her son, she had wanted to keep her distance from him. Not only did she not know how to connect to him, but he was already turning into a monster. Sure, he seemed fine now, but it was only a matter of time before he was corrupted.

But, try as she might, when she saw him in such a bruised and battered form, she couldn't help herself. If only she and Jack could have completed their work… or if she had been able to expose Vlad for what he really was, then maybe Danny would have had a completely normal life. But it was useless to dwell on 'what ifs'; they held no purpose other than to draw her into a darker state of mind. It didn't matter he could still take a human appearance. The fact of the matter was Danny was no longer human, and nothing was going to change it.

Unsurprisingly, Danny was not taking the drastic change to his life all that well. He still was having difficulty understanding how he was a ghost, even though he had never died. His confusion was only made worse when he learned Vlad's abilities were gained artificially, unlike him. It was made worse by the various accidents he would have throughout the day. His body was still trying to settle from the unnatural awaking it received and would occasionally surge with power and cause one of his powers to activate unintentionally. It usually wasn't too bad, unless he managed to get his arm or leg stuck in something.

Vlad refused to give him time to adjust either. Every day, usually shortly after breakfast, he would unceremoniously take Danny and train him. Though Vlad had assured her he was only trying to help the boy gain control, Maddie remained suspicious. If Danny was simply learning how to handle his basic powers, than there was no reason for him to return covered in cuts and bruises. Both she and Jazz had tried to get him to explain what exactly Vlad was doing to him, but he rarely answered, usually due to exhaustion.

What really surprised her was how well Jazz had taken to the role of big sister. Though she hesitantly had agreed to not let Danny know they were family, she quickly began to bond with and fuss over him. At first Danny was unsure how to respond to her attention, but soon learned to accept it. The two of them were truly beginning to look like siblings. Maddie attributed it to Jazz's uncanny ability to adjust to ghosts.

For years, the only interaction she and Jazz had were Vlad and his ghostly servants who looked after them. Though she was very wary towards them, Jazz turned towards them for companionship for years. She never seemed bothered by their unnatural appearances and abilities. It even got to the point where one of the servants, a teenage ghost by the name of Ember, had become so close to Jazz, she willing tried to help them escape. The result was disastrous in more ways than one. The escape failed, and Jazz lost her friend. Until that point in time, Maddie didn't know it was possible to destroy a ghost.

Though it took time, Jazz did bounce back from the event, but she was more hesitant to become too friendly with them. Perhaps this was the reason she had latched onto Danny. Vlad needed him, so Danny was more protected against possible 'digressions' he may commit against Vlad. But, Jazz didn't know her brother was not going to remain the same, and Maddie didn't have the heart to tell her.

A slight groan indicated to her Danny was finally starting to wake. She moved away as he slowly sat up and stretched. "I don't understand it…" he finally mumbled after several minutes as he moved off the bed which had been brought in for him. "There are no clocks… anywhere… How do you know what time it is?"

Maddie raised an eyebrow at the question. "There is a chiming system built into the walls, which let us know the time. Besides, what would we do with one in this prison?"

He gave her a blank look before shaking his head. "That makes sense… I guess… But, he doesn't even have clocks in the main part of the house."

That was a surprise. But now that she thought about it, she had noticed Vlad had an odd aversion to clocks, even when he was working with her and her husband. If one were in the room, he'd either remove it, turn it around so the face was towards the wall, or cover it, depending on the size. She had asked him about it once, but he only gave a vague response about a strange and unsettling meeting he had years prior.

"Don't worry about it too much," she told as she directed him towards the breakfast table where Jazz and a stack full of fresh pancakes were waiting for them. "You'll eventually get used to it." Her tone effectively ended the conversation. It was better to leave the man's idiosyncrasies alone. "Now, what would you like to drink?"

"Okay… Oh, I wanted to ask you this last night, but I uh… kinda feel asleep before I could… Has Vlad ever showed you that book?

Maddie dropped the glass she was holding. Jazz gave a cry of concern, but she ignored her in order to stare at the boy. "Wh-what book?"

Danny's expression which had been clouded with exhaustion moments before was now focused and wary. "I don't know what it's called… but it's really old looking and Vlad's been using it like a guidebook or something. Every time we try something new he has to look at it first. Once we're done, he usually checks it out again and gets angry…"

"That's…" she stopped herself before she could say more. She knew exactly what the book was, but anyone who had been under Vlad's supervision for sometime knew to not mention it. But, Danny would have to be warned about it somehow. "I guess Vlad does somewhat consider it like a guide… There are many old stories in it…"

"So… does it have stories about people like… like me…?" A combination of curiosity and unease crossed his face. "Is… that why he looks at it so much?"

Maddie shook her head. "It's best to push it from your mind. Its pages contain dark words and are best left alone. Besides, Vlad has been known to punish people who have asked about it."

"But…!"

"Sweetie, while it's true Vlad seems to take it at face value, it's just a book," Maddie told him in a stern voice which effectively ended the conversation. It was clear he still wanted to argue, but a glare from her kept him silent. Even though she was sure he didn't know she was his biological mother, he knew there was no point in continuing. Perhaps it was a skill all kids had to some extent. She looked at him again as she regained her composure. "There's no point in worrying about it right now. You have practice later, so you might as well eat up. So, what do you want to drink?"

…

Like usual, Vlad returned Danny shortly before dinner. However, unlike the previous times, Danny didn't join them at the table. Instead, he immediately attempted to stumble towards the closest couch. As soon as his body hit the pillow, he fell asleep immediately.

Concerned, Maddie immediately went to check on him. Danny was breathing regularly and there didn't seem to be any new injuries. It was surprising; even with previous injuries, Danny was at least able to have some dinner and freshen up before resting. "What did you do to him?" she demanded of the ghost who was still lingering in the room. "You didn't let that Spectra near him did you?"

A cold glare was her immediate answer. Knowing she wouldn't be deterred, Vlad gave a suffering sigh before properly responding. "Though he will need to learn how to handle creatures like her, I was not planning on introducing them until he had better control of his abilities." He glanced at the boy before continuing. "Apparently, I have been pushing him a little too hard. Though I am anxious for the first phase of my plans to begin, there is still plenty of time. I think I can push back the boy's training for tomorrow until another day." With that, he bid her and Jazz a farewell and disappeared.

Still worried for Danny's wellbeing, Maddie tried to rouse him, but he didn't respond. "Mom… just let him rest for now," Jazz told her softly as she gently tried to pull her away. "He's breathing right? So, let him sleep for a little. You can try and rouse him a little later."

…

It was a little after one in the morning when Maddie decided it was a good time for her to turn in for the night. Looking around the room as she stood up, she caught sight of her children. Jazz had once again managed to fall asleep while reading, so she went over and pulled the covers over her. It was easy to do so as the room was never completely dark. Yes, the lights dimmed around ten at night, but they never actually turned off.

After putting Jazz's book away, she decided to check on Danny. For hours, he hadn't moved, but she was surprised to find him sitting up on the couch, staring at the ceiling. She was about to ask him what he was doing when movement caught her attention. Turning towards the source, she saw a glowing figure coming closer to them. Concerned, she grabbed her staff (which Vlad surprisingly hadn't confiscated yet) and charged it.

Mere inches from the ghost's face, a sharp cry and tug stopped her in her tracks. Glancing to her left, she saw Danny had somehow managed to get up and grab hold of her arm in just a matter of moments. "Stop! Don't touch him… err… me!"

"Wh-what are you talking about?"

Danny hesitantly let go of her once he realized she wasn't actively trying to hurt the ghost. He gestured to the ghost, which she hadn't really taken the time to examine until then. She quickly gasped when she realized the ghost was an exact double of Danny in his ghost form. The only difference was this one was holding a rather old book.

"Sweet! You managed to get it!" Danny told it as it took the book away from it. "Thanks!"

"No problem," the ghost replied before it turned seemingly turned to mist and was absorbed into Danny.

Rather terrified and more than a little startled, she stared at the boy. Words failed her, so she was just left grasping for sounds as he nervously looked down at his feet. "Wh-what…?" she eventually stuttered.

"Uh… that was a duplicate. I found out how to do that by accident a few days ago when Vlad knocked me through a wall," he mumbled as he continued to keep his head down. "But, trying to keep one stable for long periods of time is tricky, that's why I was asleep for so long…"

"You were trying to give energy to the duplicate?" Maddie asked as Danny nodded. In all honesty, she was amazed. Duplication was a rather rare technique which could only be performed by high level ghosts. The only one she had ever encountered who could do so was Vlad, but he had admitted it had taken at least ten years for it to develop. For Danny to begin tapping into it so quickly after his transformation was astounding.

As her amazement began to wane to a more manageable level, she gave the boy in front of her a concerned glance. "But, I don't understand… Why would you need to make one in the first place?" There was no answer for a moment as she realized what exactly was in the boy's hands. "That book… Don't tell me…!"

"You said he uses this thing as a guidebook."

"That doesn't mean you should have taken it!"

"I don't understand you!" Danny's head snapped up as he spoke so he could stare at her with his icy eyes which were slowly turning green, most likely without his knowledge. "You want to escape from here, don't you? Then why don't you want to know what he's planning?"

"It won't do us any good!"

"So you've just given up?" Giving an angry sigh, Danny put the book down on a nearby table and turned away from her as he began to open it. "I don't know about you, but no matter what, I am getting out of here."

Unsure what to do, Maddie just stayed silent as the boy leafed through the dark book. Though she didn't want to admit it, she had given up. Within Vlad's game, he held all of the pieces in his hands. All he needed to do was perform the necessary moves and all was lost. How could she continue to believe when there was nothing else she could do?

"Danny…" she called out softly as moved besides him as his face contorted due to the grotesques images within the book. After carefully closing it, she turned to the boy and looked straight into his eyes. "I already know what Vlad's planning… I've known it for years." It took all of her willpower to continue looking at him as she spoke her next words. "The demons depicted in there… he wants to you to become like them."

A horrified expression crossed his face, before it turned into one of disbelief and amusement. "You had me going there for a moment," he told her between laughs. "There's no way I would ever consider acting like that. Besides, I'm supposed to be a ghost, not a demon."

"You don't understand… The changes… they've already started."

xxx

It had been months since Danny disappeared, and no one had been able to make any progress. To Sam, it was beyond frustrating. Tucker had managed to uncover who had taken their friend. Heck, he even had physical proof by way of a video, but they couldn't do anything with it. If it was taken to the police, it was quite possible it would simply be dismissed or cause them to be arrested. No matter the result, it wouldn't be positive.

However, the news had managed to grab hold of the story of Danny's disappearance. Yet, instead of making him out to be a victim, they portrayed him as a criminal who was involved in the attack on his guardian and ran away afterwards. With Winston still in a coma, no one had bothered to correct them. She had tried both in writing and in person to get them to change the story, but each station refused to listen to a teenager. It appeared the truth wasn't anywhere as interesting as the lies they had created.

Unsure what to do, she had become even more withdrawn and moody than usual. It was so bad that even Tucker was giving her space, though he wasn't completely avoiding her. Usually he would send a message to her once a day letting her know his progress in trying to bypass Vlad's security and get into his computer system at his mansion. For unknown reasons, he kept having difficulty, but he was bound and determined to find a way in.

She had tried to come up with plans which would allow her and Tucker to infiltrate Vlad's mansion and rescue Danny, but none were feasible. She also had to keep in mind the ghosts who had gone after Danny. Not only were they dangerous, but she had no idea if they were involved in the kidnapping or not. But, if they were, she had no way of fighting back against them even if she could find Danny.

Beyond frustrated and unsure what to do, she began taking long walks to try and clear her mind. Though her parents frowned upon due to the recent unsettling events within the town, they had decided to not interfere. Sam guessed that even her overly perky parents couldn't handle her rather current mood for more than a few days at a time. Smart move on their part. But, if they knew exactly where she tended to go, they would interfere.

Though she didn't particularly like the place, she was constantly wondering around the cemetery, much like Danny used to do. Sure it was peaceful, dark, and rather deserted, she didn't exactly like being so close to the dead for long periods of time, especially if she was alone. It unnerved her more than she cared to admit, and it wasn't entirely from past events. But, the location helped clear her mind, and she had a secret hope she would spot Danny near one of the trees. It was where she had first found him, and it just felt right it would be where he returned.

Yet, he was never there. Just like this particular evening, she had wondered around without finding a living soul. Deciding it was a little too early to head home, she decided to take a break on one of the many benches scattered throughout the grounds.

Glancing upwards, she caught sight of the emerging stars. The temperature would begin dropping drastically soon and with the recent snowfall, it would be more than a little cold. Sighing, she stood back up and began moving back towards the entrance. It wouldn't do her or Danny any good if she managed to get sick from the weather.

As per habit, when she neared the location where she first met Danny, she gave a quick glance. Of course there was nothing, but as she was about to turn away, something caught her attention. Unsure what exactly it was, she stopped moving and continued to look at the spot. After a few moments, Sam shook her head and continued walking. She was being silly.

Sam…

She stopped dead in her tracks. Someone had just called her name… but she was sure there was no one else in the area. Pulling her coat a little tighter around her form, she tried to suppress her shivers from both the chilly air and her nerves. It must have just been the whispers of the wind. With her being so stressed she must have mistaken the sounds.

Sam… Please…

There it was again, and it definitely wasn't the wind. Scared, she spun around in an attempt to find the person who had to be playing a trick on her. But again, she only found the general scenery of the cemetery. "Whoever it is, this isn't funny!" she shouted, as she tried to convince herself it had to be a person. Why would a ghost know her name? There wasn't anything special about her which would attract them, or at least she hoped not.

"Sam… it's me…."

The voice came from directly in front of her, but there was still no one there. Having too much past experience with ghosts, she knew it wasn't a good idea to ignore the possibility one was truly there. She wanted to run, but it would easily be able to catch her… and Danny wasn't around to save her again.

Wait… Danny. It couldn't be, but the voice did have a similar sound to his, though it was distinctly otherworldly. It almost seemed like the owner was speaking from the back of a cave. It was low and had a distinctive echo. But, unlike the other ghosts she had encountered, it did not seem overly hostile. Swallowing her fear, she finally spoke back. "I don't know who you are, but you better show yourself!"

After a tense pause, she looked around for something… what, she wasn't entirely sure. Nothing had answered her, which was almost as unsettling as the voice coming out of air. Chuckling at her idiocy, she began walking again. She really needed to find a way to relax; the stress of trying to find Danny was starting to get so bad she was starting to hear things.

She had made it a few yards when she felt a hand gently grab her shoulder and turn her around. A scream escaped from her lips as she fell and scooted away from the figure who had suddenly appeared out of thin air. He appeared to be around her own height with striking white hair and vivid green eyes. His clothes seemed normal enough; they were black with white accents in a style which almost resembled that of a more reserved rocker though they were partially concealed by a large book he was holding. But, soon she realized he wasn't wearing a coat and seemed unfazed by the cold temperature. However, the truly unnerving aspect about him was the strange glow which surrounded his body, immediately indicated he was a ghost.

"…I'm sorry…" he said carefully as he winced. "It tends to take me a little bit of time to become visible. I'm not all that good at this yet…" He carefully moved towards her and held out his hand. "Are… you okay?"

Sam just stared. Was this ghost honestly offering to help her up? Unsure what exactly to do, she decided to study him more. He was extremely human looking in appearance. If it wasn't for the glow, he could easily pass off as a teenager with an extreme rebellious streak. Though it was rare, she had encountered a few goths who had actually dyed their hair white. He was also standing on the ground as if it was perfectly normal. Though she had seen the other ghost, Skulker, do the same, it didn't seem as natural.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," the boy said with a grin as he realized he she wasn't going to take his hand. Sam once again just stared. Did he really just say that? "Sorry," he said quickly as he chuckled, "I couldn't resist. But, I promise I won't hurt you."

"What's with that look?" he asked when she just raised an eyebrow. "Sam, I just want to talk to you… and I don't have a lot of time to do it."

"Why do you know my name?" Sam asked as she slowly got off the ground. Unsure if he would keep to his word or not, she watched him carefully the entire time she moved. But, he remained still and stared at her with wide eyes.

"You don't… you don't recognize me…" The boy was clearly upset by his revelation. Though he didn't say anything immediately, Sam could tell he was deciding how to approach the situation. Eventually, he sighed and looked straight into her eyes. "Sam… It's me, Danny."

Shock quickly turned to anger. "How dare you!" she hissed at him. "How dare you pretend to be my missing friend!" Ignoring the idea it was probably a stupid thing to do, she threw a punch at the ghost. Unsurprisingly, she did not hit a solid target; instead she felt as if she was passing through an extremely cold block of pudding and lost her balance. However, instead of hitting the ground, a cold hand managed to catch her and keep her from falling. Spinning around, she tried to hit the ghost, who simply let go of her and held up his arm in defense. His other arm was still keeping hold of the book.

"Look… I'm sorry, Sam! But I can't appear in my human form right now… it's not safe!" he said quickly as he looked at her from under his arm.

Hesitating at the look he gave her, she didn't immediately swing at him again. If she got past the unnatural appearance, he did look somewhat like Danny. No! She couldn't think like that! If she accepted that the ghost in front of her was the same as her friend, than it meant that Danny was… he was… !

Her thoughts were interrupted as the ghost shoved the book he was holding at her. Instinctively, she caught it and was surprised to find how heavy it was. Confused and still angry, she looked at the ghost who was giving her a pleading look. "There's not a lot of time until he finds out that I'm gone. You need to take this… It will give you some idea of what Vlad's planning… and though I hate to say it, but I think that picture we found here the day after I met you and Tucker came from this book." He paused for a moment as he looked to the side as if he heard something before turning back to her. "Just be careful… It's not the sort of book you would read as a bedtime story."

As he moved away from her, she tried to process what she had just heard. "How do you know about that picture…?" she asked as that notion became the dominate thought in her mind.

"Sam… I was there, remember?" he said impatiently. "We found it after you and Tucker found out that Winston's my guardian and not my actual parent. But, that doesn't really matter right now. You've got to try to stop Vlad from the outside… Not only is he planning something big, but there are others he's held captive."

"Others? Vlad? What are you talking about?"

He just shook his head. "I'm sorry, I wish I could explain better, but I can't stay any longer. It's too dangerous." As if that was the cue, he began floating a few inches from the ground. He gave her a longing look before raising his hand, almost as if he was saying 'goodbye'. "I hope this isn't the last time I get to see you… Try to stay safe." Without another word, he vanished as suddenly as he appeared.

"Wait…!" she cried out as she tried to stop him, but she was unable to tell if he was still around or not. Though she really didn't want to trust the ghost, she did have questions for him. How in the world did he know about the picture she, Danny, and Tucker had found? He apparently even knew about the events leading up to the discovery. Did that mean he was really Danny?

She really didn't want to believe it, but she was starting to get a sinking suspicion it was truth. Maybe when she went home and was able to gather her thoughts, she would have a better understanding of the situation. Not just of the ghost's identity, but also of the other information and various questions swimming through her mind. But, she did know one thing for a fact: Tucker was never going to believe her.

#Eidolon #danny phantom #danny phantom au #dp au #dp #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #vlad plasmius #maddie fenton #jazz fenton #fantasy #supernatural #paranormal

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yue-muffin · 4 years

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Time Raiders (2016)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

In my quest to consume the entirety of the DMBJ franchise available in English, I have decided to start with the non-canon movie because at least this one has an ending, unlike the train wreck that is Reboot/Chongqi’s pacing. I will probably be bitter about that for all eternity, but I digress. I heard good things about the movie from the bird app, and as I am a Pingxie shipper at heart, I decided to finally watch this one.

P A R T O N E

The cut-in animation to the title was gorgeous, I do so love the qilin in every adaptation. It’s particularly striking here with the gold outline and geometric, maze-like lines. It looks like the cards at the very beginning were being arranged in the image of this qilin.

My first reaction upon seeing white people in a dmbj adaptation is: oh no, the English, but I was pleasantly surprised to hear perfect English that matches the actor’s lips! What a miracle, haha. I remember The Lost Tomb 2 being the worst for how many lines had to be in English, sob.

These look so cool. I see we start off with a good old “seeking immortality” antagonist, and an obsessed collector who has dedicated his whole life to this apparently. As usual, he is a scumbag threatening the locals.

The old guy’s accented English is also better than TLT2, ha. The breathy/nasal quality is not at all uncommon. I don’t know what language the locals speak though.

Me, immediately: Zhang Qiling already??

I know he appears in rather early in TLT1, TLT2, and Reboot/Chongqi, but he’s so often mysteriously absent or stuck behind a gate (or in Reboot’s case, put on a bus) that I got excited, ok.

My favorite Zhang Qilings are the cold-looking pretty boy types in terms of my mental image of the character, but this one is also very easy on the eyes and as usual, unfazed in the face of danger coming at him with a knife. This is the only series in which I’m not bothered by the constant cast change between adaptations (unlike Ever Night), I suppose since it’s been this way from the start.

I’m interested in seeing how the backstories differ from canon. It’s actually rather interesting that this is pretty much an official AU, like that’s kind of wild as a concept. I’m used to the late 1990s/early 2000s anime adding new characters and changing plot points and endings everywhere, but Time Raiders takes it a step further.

Zhang Qiling being an ultra-competent badass who doesn’t even need a weapon to take the bad guys down never changes, no matter the universe. He steamrolls everyone, no questions asked.

Did he- he break the blade with his bare hands hahaha. Oh, yup, and a Zhang Qiling with a weapon is even more dangerous. I see those severed fingers. Such a good fight scene and we’re not even 5 minutes into the movie.

I love how he could have simply fired the arrow while he was still on the statue, then jumped down, but he had to be Extra and fire while he was jumping off haha.

It- the divine piece was right there?? By “beneath the statue” I would have thought it would at least be under it, not in a convenient little slot on the side of the altar area haha. So Zhang Qiling’s mission is to destroy the divine piece(s)? To, um, save the world apparently.

WHO ARE YOU? What an excellent question to ask a Zhang Qiling (and that staring into the mirror shot, too.)… I wonder if this one even knows - it’s possible he doesn’t have his signature amnesia here.

Wait- a gate? I think it’s in a cave or something in the novels, but gates have significance in DMBJ. The cinematography is really nice in these mountain shots. I know nothing about film, but I like the shots in the snowy mountains.

This Zhang Qiling knows and practices martial arts on screen! You would think he’d pull some moves normally, but in the drama-adaptations he tends to just beat people up as efficiently as possible. Sometimes with his sword. Other times he just fights ‘em. I have to admit Jing Boran looks excellent going through some forms. He nailed the force and power underlying every movement, then exploding outward with a strike. I do like the impression it leaves.

I, on the other hand, am an absolute noodle and look ridiculous when I do martial arts.

What in the world is happening in this flashback scene with the weird CGI qilin. Ah, it’s when he received his tattoo. That was super dramatic.

Wushanju is looking real edgy with the heavy iron gate on the interior, haha.

He is puzzling (ha!) over those cards so intensely you’d think it was a thousand piece puzzle instead haha. You’re almost there! Just a few more to finish the qilin!

Aw, is this our Wu Xie? Haha his facial hair is- hm. But I love his voice it’s so soft. Really fits that “Mr. Naive” vibe.

Is that. Is that the author of the series. I found out that he makes cameos in almost all (if not all of) the adaptations!

NO. ONLY I CAN FINISH THE PUZZLE. HANDS OFF BUDDY.

Why are there so many pigeons in here. Who let them inside.

A writer, who came to hear his story and turn it into a novel- HA yup it’s the author.

“This should be a story about me and him.”

Ahh I’m loving it already. DMBJ is the ultimate bromance story. Fair warning, I do ship Pingxie so my shipper goggles will be on throughout the movie. But even without shipping, you do have to admit the series is a bromance underneath all the mystery – between the Iron Triangle, between Wu Xie and Xiaoge.

This Wu Xie is a photographer and that is sort of adorable. Already there’s a theme emerging of needing to record events and telling stories. Interesting that he wants to turn his memories into a novel to record his experiences, because otherwise he’s afraid those memories might turn into a mere story in his own head. Wu Xie, that’s a worrying mindset.

Those ancient mask things always make me crack up, I don’t know why.

Ooh, background about Wu Xie’s birth into the Wu family. I’ve never read up to the part in the books where they go into his place in the family in detail. To be fair, his grandfather had three sons and only one of them had any kids – and Wu Xie is his parents’ only child. So, he becomes the only one who can really carry on the family legacy. Aw, I really like seeing his extended family present though! In the dramas we only ever get either his Second or Third Uncle, and he rarely ever mentions his parents even though they’re alive.

And there’s his namesake! The origin of his nickname, and the irony once the story gets into the Sha Hai timeline.

Wu Xie was a bit of a rascal as a kid, haha. To be fair he has a pretty sharp tongue in the novels and is mostly a pure cinnamon roll in the early dramas.

Little Wu Xie in a suit is so adorable. Nooo kid don’t go into locked up abandoned places. He’s already so adventurous haha. Seems that it’s not actually abandoned judging by all the lights on, but.

UH. MASKED MAN BEHIND YOU. I think he wants that item back. This is why you don’t go into abandoned places, kid. He definitely does not learn his lesson though. Also why are you still holding onto that thing, just drop it, I think he wants it back.

Haha he kept one of the coins.

WOAH. Every month someone in your family dies?? That’s uh- sort of traumatic. Also that would be a really good first line for a novel…Just saying. I do love the singing though.

Oh, the Nine Families exist in this universe too! They even give a quick explanation about the ranking system.

Oh yeah, I love how Wu Xie is such a nerd for all this knowledge of ancient texts and tombs. And YES HE FINALLY DOCUMENTS STUFF FOR ONCE.

Uncle Three looked dead for a moment there, scared the shit out of me too.

VAMPIRE MOTHS? Oh I hate bugs I would not be okay lol. WHOOPS. You guys are really good at reading ancient texts on the fly lol.

That’s the mask he has in the beginning of the film, isn’t it. NO DON’T TOUCH THINGS IN TOMBS. AHHH. So you just put it on your face?? Well that was a stupidly simple way to open the door. I’m guessing the creator didn’t care if anyone opened it.

This guy just severed his own arm, ok…and how many years later is his hand still clinging to it? UH. THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T TOUCH THINGS IN TOMBS. Then he proceeds to steal the box thing.

Ah the white dude again. I am so happy there is GOOD ENGLISH though haha.

Oh, hi Zhang Qiling. Just hanging out on a rooftop I see.

He looks so melancholy. Someone give him a hug! This adaptation makes him more human, less stoic robotic superhuman, I noticed. You rarely see him eat or drink anything in the other adaptations, but here he’s just chilling on a rooftop having some drinks haha. It’s ok. I love all the Zhang Qilings.

WHAT THE HELL, LIGHTNING? What the hell is this high tech machinery haha. Eight days? Coincidentally eight days after sitting in a tomb for how many years.

That is a very Extra bookcase to hold a book that apparently has ALL the secrets.

WOW that is a fancy notebook. It looks so beat up in the other versions haha. In this one, it even gets its own hidden shelf in a giant portable bookshelf!

The props for this franchise are so cool and detailed. I always wish they would show more of the creative process in the BTS, I’m such a nerd for that stuff. The Longest Day in Chang’an was pretty good at that, which is half of my enjoyment of that show haha!

I’m also still pleasantly surprised they bothered to incorporate other languages. I’m not sure what the Snake Lady and the old man in the beginning were speaking, but at least the English is good.

I can’t believe they worked in a steampunk chastity belt this movie went all out, huh. Also with these weirdly high tech structures and lightning and moving tomb structures.

And all the pieces start coming together! So that’s why it’s believed they hold the secret to immortality. What a steampunk-looking key.

Is that a writing desk??

Oh, they’re getting a team together to go tomb raiding! Ha, forget money! You may or may not end up dying on this adventure, so who cares about money, right.

He’s so cute standing there with his camera. Look at the little smile as he watches everything going on!

It’s a desk and a storage container?? Oh, there are ~qualifications~ to going on tomb raiding. Makes sense. That is the oddest looking sword.

Must appreciate Zhang Qiling’s fingers in every adaptation. They look very strong and steady here. Let’s not talk about the slooow trailing across the handle.

Wow did you really just throw sand in his face. Have we not learned not to mess with Zhang Qiling after he trounced that first guy who attacked him. I love the fight scenes so much after the bore-fest that was Reboot/Chongqi’s second half of Season 1.

Super pretty, but why did it cause him to stop and stare in the middle of the fight?

This is like a Final Fantasy sword haha. Also I think you should stop while you’re ahead, why did you think a table would stop this dude. (Hey, it’s Da Kui! He was in the novel but not TLT1.).

It’s HERE. Their first meeting. How did he know the coin was on that cord? It wasn’t visible, I don’t think. But uh. That was a hilarious move on his part, he is so Extra?? He just casually flicks the necklace off with his big-ass sword and it drops into his hand. Then casually goes “oh, here, you dropped this” as if he wasn’t the one responsible for it coming off in the first place!!

HERE IT COMES. The unnecessarily long eye contact. Pingxie in every adaptation needs a Staring Into Your Eyes scene.

Real smooth.

Ahh this Wu Xie is such a cutie. He’s like a puppy.

WHAT. Third Uncle, I can’t believe you let him tag along so easily haha. In the beginning he was scolding Wu Xie to never get involved in tomb business, then what happens? They’re going tomb raiding!!

Next Up: to the tomb we go! This can’t end badly or anything what are you talking about.

#daomubiji #time raiders #dmbj #盗墓笔记 #image heavy post #perhaps don't view on mobile #in which i lose my mind for 2 hours #the muffin's liveblogging adventures

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angelic-holland · 4 years

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Hang the Stars // TMO imagine

“Because what’s worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?” - James Patterson

“I’ll take care of you.”

“It’s rotten work.”

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

- Anne Carson, Euripides

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: angst, mentions of murder, mentions of mob activity, fluffy fluff

Summary: Three Months and 14 days. That’s how long Harrison has loved you. That’s how long he’s known he can never have you like he wants you. Three months and 14 days is a dreadfully long time to love someone who will never love him back.

A/N: Hi! This is a little short of the reader’s time with Ian and Harrison and the Irish mob. This can sort of work as a stand alone fic but works better after reading the first 13 chapters of Take Me Out! This is from Harrison’s perspective aka the reader is ‘her’. As always, feedback through reblogs and asks are always appreciated and encouraged if you’re part of my taglist! Let me know what you think about this little piece!

The worst part of falling in love is the pain when you hit the ground.

That isn’t how Harrison feels sitting in the meeting room of Ian’s brownstone when the doorbell rang. He feels calm with the slightest bit of excitement because he’s finally allowed to sit in on meetings.

Nobody rings the doorbell here. All of Ian’s men knocked, a special knock to let Ian know that it was them.

So Harrison sat in his seat right by the head of the table where Ian usually sits while Ian draws a gun, stalking toward the front door.

He can’t see anything, neither can any of the other men in the room, but they can hear her.

At first, Dewey jokes that it’s a girl that Ian knocked up, here to collect child support.

Russell shuts him up with a glare, “probably just a girl scout or something.”

“It’s nine at night,” Harrison says, straining to hear what Ian was saying to whoever was standing at the door.

There’s a shrill cry that makes all of the men at the table widen their eyes.

“Don’t touch me!”

Then Ian’s voice is soothing and attempting to comfort the girl, whoever she may be.

There’s a rumbling and Harrison swears it’s thunder but he can’t help the next words that slip out of his mouth, “everything okay?”

A sob ripples through the near silent house.

Harrison stands up, about to leave the room when Russell stops him.

“This isn’t your business.”

“It might be-,”

“Just wait, patience, boy,” Dewey sneers.

Harrison sits back down, mumbling under his breath about leaving him the fuck alone.

The men sit in silence as they hear Ian walking around the house, making a few phone calls.

“Check in on the place, that’s right, rented to Adeline Park, I want an update by tomorrow morning.”

Adeline Park. Maybe that’s the girl who showed up at the door. It has to be.

Several minutes later, Ian steps back inside the room, trying to push the franticness out of his voice.

“Meeting dismissed, we’ll pick up tomorrow morning. Harrison, go out and get food, real food, fruits and vegetables, shit like that.”

Harrison isn’t going to question it at this point, “right away, boss.”

He stands up and buttons his suit jacket, following the rest of the men out of the house before Ian grabs his arm.

“Don’t let them get you caught up in their rumor mill, I’m taking care of an old friend,” Ian says, voice low so the last of the men exiting the house don’t hear him.

“Course, boss, I’ll be right back.”

Harrison is nosy, it’s not something he’s exactly proud of, but with his job, it comes with the territory.

That’s why he searches for an Adeline Park on Facebook. A dozen or so results show up. He didn’t catch a glimpse of her face, so he scrolls through each result, each profile, wondering if this was the girl who showed up on his bosses doorstep, completely throwing him for a loop.

He buys a lot of food, probably too much, but he had no idea what Ian wanted other than fruits and vegetables, he swears he almost buys out the entire store. After unloading all of the food into the cabinets and fridge, he makes his way upstairs.

He hears Ian and her talking, Adeline, her voice is weak but anxious as Ian tries to soothe her. He almost doesn’t want to interrupt, to break into their precious moment. But Harrison is nosy, so he does anyway.

“It is though, you take bad people and you get rid of them. You kill people who deserve to be killed.”

Harrison’s eyes widen at Ian’s words. So she isn’t just an old flame. Or perhaps she is, Ian’s circle consists mainly of mobsters and murderers. So it’s possible she is a killer and an old flame. What better person for a murderer than another murderer?

Harrison took off his suit jacket, leaning against the door as he watches her, her hair in a messy ponytail, eyes puffy, bruises encircling her throat. He wonders who could hurt someone as beautiful as her.

“Boss.”

“Harrison, she’s going to be staying in the guest room with you for a little bit. Is that okay?”

“Course, boss, groceries are downstairs, all set away.”

“Great, sweetheart, I’ve got to make a few phone calls but if you need anything, Harrison can help you, okay?”

“He’s uh, he’s good?”

Her voice is terrified, it’s a trembling whisper and she doesn’t want Harrison to hear but he does.

“He’s the best,” Ian says before he stands up, giving Harrison a look before leaving him alone with the girl who clearly didn’t trust anyone.

What the fuck is Harrison supposed to do? To say? She reminds him of a scared cat, drawing in on herself as he steps forward into the room completely.

“Hi, uh, name’s Harrison,” He says, wanting to smack himself, he drops his coat on his bed and walks toward her, sticking his hand out.

Right, because the way to look non threatening to her is to stick your hand out when the last man who did that was the one who gave her all of those bruises.

She is hesitant as he holds his hand out, and right before he’s about to drop it, she meekly shakes his hand.

“Y/N.”

So not Adeline.

She drops his hand almost as quickly as she shakes it.

“Well, y/n, you’re free to borrow my clothes anytime, definitely look better on you than me.”

Damn it Harrison.

The last thing this girl wants, or needs, is someone flirting with her.

“Sorry, that was uh, stupid of me.”

She giggles and Harrison feels light headed.

“It’s okay, uh, you been with Ian long?”

“No, a few months. We met while he was back in Ireland.”

“So are you his uh, next in command?” She asks as Harrison begins to get ready for bed.

“Sort of, if I show I can do well under pressure. How much do you know about Ian?”

He’s curious about which part of Ian’s past she’s from.

“Just that he’s the Irish mob leader here, and uh, you’re not Irish.”

Her tone is almost accusatory, like Harrison isn’t supposed to be here. But she digresses, somewhat caging herself off to his response as she sets the plate down and gently touches her neck, wincing as her fingers touch the bruises.

“You shouldn’t, you know, touch that, I can get you some ice if you want, I’ll just go change and then grab an ice pack,” Harrison says, not waiting for a response before gathering up his pajamas and leaving her alone.

Ian is talking downstairs after Harrison changed and he becomes quiet as Harrison enters the kitchen.

“Just grabbing her an ice pack,” Harrison says, grabbing one from the freezer and wrapping it in a dish towel.

“She’s got some problems, Harrison, you won’t be able to fix her.”

“I wasn’t planning on trying to-,”

“It’s okay son, I’m sure you only want to help. But I think she’ll just need time.”

“Oh, sure, of course,” Harrison nods, “but Ian, do you think she’d, I mean, do you know who hurt her?”

Ian shakes his head, “that’s what I’m trying to find out, I haven't seen her in five years. She drove here from fucking Idaho. I guess she didn’t really have anyone else to go to.”

Harrison nods, swallowing the lump in his throat as he makes his way back upstairs. He wonders who could have hurt her so badly she drove across the country to someone she hasn’t seen in over half a decade.

“Hey, I uh, I got you an ice pack,” he says, watching her roll over in the blue sheets, her eyes red, cheeks swollen from crying.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, holding her hand out for the ice.

When he hands it to her, he swears electricity crackles under his fingertips when they touch her hand. She withdraws almost immediately.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says, turning back toward the wall, not letting Harrison look at her properly as she rests the ice pack against her neck.

“Like what?” Harrison asks, slightly confused as he sits down in his own bed, wanting to give her as much distance as she needs.

“Like I’m a lost puppy someone just kicked to the curb. Like you’re sorry for me, like you’re some guy who sees a girl that’s broken and wants to piece me back together. I’m Humpty fucking Dumpty, you’re not putting me back together again.”

Harrison figures the best thing to do is let her vent.

“I didn’t think you’re Humpty Dumpty.”

“Right, next you’re going to tell me you would never hurt me and that you’d never do anything to put me at risk.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” Harrison says, laying down.

“The last person who said that, did this,” she turns and takes away the ice pack, her throat definitely swollen past it’s normal size.

“Listen, you don’t have to tell me about him, whoever did that, but I would never do that, never touch you like that-,”

“Just- don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep.”

The realization that Y/N doesn’t trust him, doesn’t trust anyone, because the man who did that most definitely wasn’t the first person who has hurt her like that, sits on Harrison’s chest like a stack of bricks.

Taking care of her, being her keeper or her babysitter or whatever wasn’t his goal or intention after the first night, but since then, that’s all Harrison has ever done. And he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind one bit.

For the first time in his life, Y/N gave Harrison what he felt was a purpose, a reason for being more than his typical self.

And isn’t that the cruelest sort of love? The love you feel for someone so broken that industrial strength glue can’t piece them together, the love that no matter how hard and how fiercely you love, they’ll never be quite able to reciprocate it?

***

There are bad nights, nights where she wakes up screaming for someone, crying out for the person who hurt her. He buries the name in his subconscious, never gaining the courage to ask her about this Tom character who invaded her peaceful sleep.

During the first two weeks she hardly got any sleep, and that keeps Harrison up as well. There are moments when she’ll stare at him and he’d stare right back, her eyes the only thing visible in the dark room. A beacon of hope for someone lost at sea.

And then she climbs into his bed. They’re both restless on this September night, now morning if Harrison is being technical. 2am.

“I uh, I was hoping I might sleep better if I, well, if I sleep next to you,” her voice is soft and her eyes wide as Harrison nods, patting the spot next to him. The bed is small, no doubt that they’d have to lay practically on top of each other to not fall off. So with a gentle nod from Harrison, she curls up next to him, her head on his chest and her legs practically on top of his.

That night Harrison has slept better than he has in years. In fact, Y/N and Harrison looked so peaceful that when Ian went to check on them the next morning, he didn’t wake them up. Finally both of them got a full nights sleep without screaming, without fear of what tomorrow may bring. Finally it seems both of them are at peace.

***

When she kisses Harrison for the first time, about a month after she arrived, he swore he was dreaming. They’ve kissed plenty of times in Harrison’s dreams, but each time he feels like he’s betraying the real Y/N.

They’re lying in bed, Harrison has an arm around her shoulder, only after she gave him explicit permission to do so. She’s cradling his face like it’s a glass vase, her eyes searching for the blooming flowers beneath his fragile exterior. Maybe poppies or brunneras. Nothing can quite match his shade of blue.

“Can I?” She asks, her eyes focused on the short sharp breaths forming on Harrison’s lips.

He nods, waiting for the dream to end, to wake up and be reminded this isn’t real.

Her lips brush against his and she waits for him to reciprocate before moving further. She’s warm against him, almost burning up or maybe that’s his heart? Harrison can’t tell, in fact he feels light headed and his stomach twists into a knot as he kisses her back. Her lips are so soft, and she tastes like his mint toothpaste, the one she uses now, since they’ve gotten in the habit of brushing their teeth together.

He pulls away, only because he’s sure he’s stopped breathing, “pinch me.”

It makes her laugh, it’s melodic and Harrison closes his eyes, resting his forehead against hers, soaking up each note.

“You’re not dreaming,” she murmurs, her lips finding his again.

“Pinch me anyway,” he mumbles against her lips, he can’t find it in him to pull away.

She gently pinches his cheek and he waits to wake up. But he doesn’t. Tonight they don’t sleep much, random thoughts and words are shared between soft kisses, never moving further than a gentle hand on cheek, soft skin against skin.

Neither of them mind as she traces his cheekbone, the moonlight cutting across his skin and illuminating every imperfection.

“Thank you, for everything.”

She doesn’t need to say it. She doesn’t need to thank him.

“Don’t thank me,” he says as she snuggles into his chest, her hair tickling his chin.

“I don’t know why you do it, why you take care of me. I’m sure you’d much rather be out with Ian and the rest of them-,”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” Harrison cuts her off and he watches as she turns in his arms, her eyes wandering to the window, staring up at the moon, the stars. He wonders if she feels the same way.

“Don’t say that just because-,”

“I’ve never lied to you,” Harrison murmurs, his arm rests against her shoulder and for a half a second he thinks she flinches, but she relaxes almost immediately.

“It’s rotten work,” she huffs, laughing low in her throat.

“What is?”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m poison, draining the life out of everyone around me. I don’t want you to be as lifeless as me. It’s rotten work being around a person like me.”

“Well, unless you’re planning on killing me…” he’s joking, for the most part.

“No! I wouldn’t, I couldn’t,” she mumbles, the sky is forgotten as she turns back around, resting her hand on his chest, right over his heart.

“You know, it’s not rotten work, caring for you. I don’t think I could ever get tired of spending time with you.”

“Liar.”

“I’m anything but. I just wish you’d believe me.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

He wants to ask, he wants to ask why she doesn’t think she’s worth every single second he spends with her. He wants to cradle her face in his hands as gently as she cradled his. He wants to whisper, he wants to shout that she’s worth it, she’s so god damn worth it that he can’t see himself doing anything else but share the same twin size bed with her for the rest of his life.

But by now, he can tell when she’s feeling drained, emotionally, mentally, physically.

She needs to sleep, and she isn’t going to listen to anything else that he plans on saying. So he tucks those words back into his mind and lets her sleep.

***

Their life isn’t perfect, it’s far from it. Especially on days Y/N is so depressed she can’t get out of bed. There are days when she’s downright mean and it forces Harrison to take a step back and realize that she’s been through some stuff, she’s seen some shit, and she has every right to get upset and angry at the world. Besides, the world is a cruel place, and it sometimes feels that she is their sole target.

He does things to try to brighten her up, whether it be getting her favorite cannoli from Mike’s Pastry or a smoothie from a local farmer’s market. Today he brought her both, because before he left, she was yelling about how useless it was to be here and how she wishes she was back in Idaho.

“Y/N?” Harrison calls out, climbing the stairs two at a time with the food and a gift.

He hears the shower going and calls out to her, resting his head on the bathroom door.

She doesn’t answer and immediately his mind flies to worse case scenarios.

To her taking her anger and depression and turning it inward on herself, so much so that she can’t come back from it.

“Y/N!” Harrison shouts, voice unsteady as he opens the door. He doesn’t want to invade her privacy, but he will just to make sure that the worst case scenario he built up isn’t coming true.

Normally there’s a shadow of the person showering on the shower curtain. But as Harrison sets everything aside he finds Y/N’s shadow curled up in the corner, the water almost drowning out her cries.

“Y/N, darling, are you okay?” Harrison asks, kneeling down at the edge of the tub, hesitant to push back the curtain.

“I can’t breath,” she gasps and no matter how much of a gentleman Harrison is, he can’t sit outside the tub and not check on her now.

“Y/N, I’m going to open the curtain, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m a monster,” she shouts as Harrison pulls back the curtain, revealing her crying form.

“What?” Harrison asks, watching her continue to shake.

“I- I’m here, I ran from my problem and he, he’s dead because of me, I’m a monster,” she sobs, the water starting to prune her skin.

Harrison has absolutely no idea what Y/N is talking about, but he knows one thing for sure, that something happened to her or because of her that has changed her forever.

“Come on Y/N, we can talk about this if you want, but you need to get out of the shower, need to get dried off,” Harrison reaches over to grab her arm but she pulls away violently, quivering at the thought of his touch.

He stands up, turning the water off, it’s scalding and he wonders how she hasn’t practically burnt her skin off yet.

He waits a moment for her to come out, grabbing a towel from the closet and standing at the edge of the tub.

“Y/N…”

“Just leave me alone! You should hate me! I don’t-,” she starts as Harrison leans down, trying to pick her up.

“Go away!” She screams, batting at his hands as he tries to, at this point drag her out of the bath if he has to.

“No, Y/N, you have to understand, please, please understand I’m not going anywhere,” Harrison pleads as he struggles with what to do now.

Fuck it, if she won’t get out of the tub, he’ll join her. So that’s what Harrison does, clothes and all, sitting behind her and drawing her body against his as she sobs. She doesn’t resist him however, and that’s the most important part of this exchange. He just wants her to feel safe, like he’s the one person she can feel safe with.

“It’s okay,” he brushes back her wet hair as she cries until her breathing levels out and there aren’t anymore tears left to cry.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“This kid, Harry, he uh, he was in a coma. And Jake, Jake killed him. This innocent kid who never did anything wrong in his life. Jake killed him to get back at me, to get back at Tom.”

“Why is that your fault then, darling?” Harrison asks as he begins wringing out her hair, not a care in the world that his clothes are now completely soaked as well.

“Because, if I didn’t get involved with T-T-Tom, then Jake would have no reason to try to put him in his place like that! If I didn’t put my stupid fucking heart out like that, this wouldn’t have happened!”

Harrison doesn’t have the courage to ask if she meant the two of them.

“Is that why you came looking for Ian?”

“Tom he- he blamed me for Harry’s death. And he- I never thought he was capable of hurting me until that moment. And I couldn’t- I couldn’t stay while he was so angry like that. He would’ve killed me. But maybe I deserve that.”

“No, hey, look at me,” Harrison pleads, his heart literally aching in his chest as she stares back at him with trembling lips and tear tracks down her cheeks.

“What? How can you know who I am and not think I deserve to die?”

“Did you kill this kid with your own two hands?”

She shakes her head no, so Harrison continues.

“So you kill bad people. You didn’t kill this kid, so you need to get into that mindset. You need to see yourself how I see you.”

“I feel like I’m a rain cloud or a fucking black hole, just sucking the life out of everything.”

“You’re anything but,” Harrison tries to reassure her.

“Don’t lie to me just to make me feel better.”

“Okay, you might be a rain cloud. But more than that, you’re an entire day’s worth of weather. And what happens after a rain?”

She sniffles but doesn’t respond, so Harrison pulls out the small velvet black box he wasn’t expecting to give her until later tonight. His jeans are soaking wet and it makes it harder to grab, but when he does, his hand is shaking harder than Y/N is.

“You know, when I was a kid and I was having a bad day, my mum used to sing this song for me,” Harrison opens the box and holds the necklace up to show her.

“What is this?” She asks, her fingers curling around the sun pendant.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away.”

***

It’s been almost four months since Y/N showed up on Ian’s doorstep. Harrison wants to celebrate the small strides she’s making by cooking her breakfast. Tomorrow they’re supposed to go stake out a hit that Harrison will be running, and Ian is letting Y/N go with him.

“What’re you making?” Y/N asks, sleepily rubbing her eyes as she sits at the kitchen counter.

“Pancakes,” Harrison smiles, flipping one over before turning back to Y/N.

She has tears in her eyes that she quickly tries to hide. She’s not fast enough. Harrison often catches her before she can hide her emotions from him. She isn’t sure if she appreciates this ability of his, but he’s always able to calm her down when she gets worked up.

“Okay, if you don’t like pancakes, darling, we don’t have to have them,” Harrison quickly turns off the stove and walks around the counter, holding his arms out for her.

He always waits for her to make the first move. To pull him into a hug, to sleep by his side, to kiss him. He would never want her to feel pressured into anything, make her feel like she’s required to reciprocate what he wants to give to her.

She buries herself inside his arms, her body shaking with sobs.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” Harrison sings lightly, feeling her slowly bring herself back to reality and out of whatever dark space pancakes seemed to send her to. “Sing with me, darling,” he murmurs as he rubs her back, “you make me happy when skies are grey.”

Her voice is thick with tears but she continues along with him, “you’ll never know dear, how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away.”

“So no pancakes?” Harrison asks hesitantly as she sits back down.

“I, uh, I prefer waffles,” she sniffles, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Waffles it is.”

After work, Harrison buys a waffle maker and all the ingredients he needs to cook up the best waffle recipe he can find. The look in Y/N’s eyes when he sets up the waffle maker is enough to make Harrison melt into a puddle on the floor like a schoolboy whose crush notices him.

“Please tell me you like your waffles sweet,” Harrison pulls out a can of whipped cream from the fridge, raising an eyebrow at Y/N.

She nods eagerly, “what’s a waffle without maple syrup and whipped cream?”

Harrison chuckles as she takes the plate and can from him, loading the waffle with whipped cream.

“God, I love you.”

Maybe he didn’t mean for those words to slip out, but they did. They’ve been stuck in his throat for three months now, ever since the first night she crawled into his bed and asked him to hold her.

The whipped cream can cuts off, filling the kitchen with a silence that absolutely shatters Harrison’s heart.

She doesn’t need to say anything. Her face, shocked with slight confusion, mouth wide open and eyebrows pinched together, tells him everything he needs to know.

“Why?” She can’t even look at him as she begins to cut into her food.

“What do you mean why? Why do I love you?”

She nods as she begins to eat, still not meeting his eyes.

“You showed up when I was beginning to doubt joining Ian, don’t tell him that though. And you were closed off. Mean and cranky, and I mean, you still are-,”

“Hey!” She scowls, flicking a bit of whipped cream at him.

“The face you make when you’re mad is really cute. But even when you put on the grumpiest face, I know that you care a lot, about Ian, about the people in your life.”

“About you.”

“Hmm?” Harrison has to pinch himself, wondering if he is truly hearing what he thinks he’s hearing.

“I care about you,” she says, shoveling more of the waffle into her mouth before she stands up, the chair scraping against the floor.

“You care about me?” Harrison asks, watching her nervously pick at the fingernail of her thumb, nodding as she wraps her arms around his neck.

“I know you want me to say that I- that I-, fuck I’m sorry, but I can’t. And you know if I said it right now, it would only be because of what you said, because of how you feel. And you deserve someone who can say that back because it’s true, because she has no reservations and shitty feelings and emotional shortcomings.”

“But I’ll stay, through your shitty feelings and your emotional shortcomings.”

“Don’t know why,” she mumbles.

“You’re worth it, Y/N, don’t you see how incredibly fucking worth it you are?”

“I’m worth it?” She asks, as if she is discovering this for the first time as well.

“You’re so fucking worth it, there aren’t enough words in the dictionary or our time on this earth to tell you how worth it you are.”

***

“Darling, what’s wrong?” Harrison asks as he brushes hair out of her eyes, kissing her forehead before sitting up to get a good look at her, watching the way her hands start to shake.

“Kiss me like you hate me.”

He’s confused, because he figured this might be the night she decides to go further with him, to share a part of herself he wasn’t sure he’s ever seen. But why would she ask him to kiss her like that?

Aggressively?

“What do you-,”

“I don’t want you to make love to me, I- I can’t make love to you.”

“Darling I’m not going to kiss you like I hate you, I don’t hate you, I couldn’t hate you.”

“You should hate me,” she sobs, curling in on herself as Harrison lays down next to her, pulling her into his chest.

“No, darling, it’s okay, shhh, I couldn’t hate you, darling, you could be the wicked witch of the west and I’d still look at you like you hung the stars in the sky. Maybe that’s why you’re cranky, you’ve spent so long bringing light to everyone else, you never saved any for yourself. What’s wrong?”

“Nobody’s ever, well except- and I can’t, I just can’t,” she continues to cry, her tears soaking his shirt as he runs a hand through her hair.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything, I would be perfectly content with you in my arms, just laying here,” Harrison assures her, keeping her as calm as he could even when he felt like his world simply didn’t make sense.

“I’ve killed people, you know.”

“I know,” Harrison says, calm and even.

“Lots of people.”

“Bad people.”

She shifts around in his arms, facing him. Her breath is shaky as he wipes the tears from her face and kisses her forehead.

“You gave people light by taking bad people out of their lives.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I’m a bad person,” she sniffles as Harrison brings his lips along her face, kissing every single inch of skin.

“There’s such a blurred line between good and bad, right and wrong. How many people have you saved by killing murderers? By killing rapists?”

She shrugs and it shocks Harrison how she can’t see what he sees.

“Too many to count. And tomorrow you’re getting back in the game, staking out the new hit with me. It’ll be fun but if you’re uncomfortable, we stop, got it?”

“Got it,” she nods, letting his warmth calm her down and lull her to sleep.

***

“Y/N, when was the uh, last time you had your period?” Harrison asked, wondering how long it typically took for someone to start showing.

“What? Uh two months and uhh 20 days ago,” her eyes widened and she stopped about five feet short of the brownstone, turning to Harrison, “I’m not, it’s uh, it’s the stress.”

***

It’s been a week and a half since Y/N left Harrison on the curbside dreaming of children and a life together. It’s been a week and a half and all Harrison has been able to do is dream of her, growing old with her, a kid, as many kids as she wants. He dreams of a life where he can play catch or push them on the swing set. It’s a stupid dream, especially now that she’s gone. She promised to check in, but it’s been absolute and complete radio silence since she left.

Most days Ian doesn’t ask much of him, understanding how torn up Harrison is after she left. Today was one of those days where Harrison sits in bed drinking straight from a bottle of expensive rum and stares at his phone, at her contact photo. It’s the only photo of her that he has. He took it one day while they were drinking hot chocolate at this small bakery in the North End. She has a whipped cream mustache and is flushing as Harrison holds his phone up, snapping a cheeky picture. She protested at first but he insisted that it could be used for his lockscreen. She immediately stole a picture of him as well, head tilted back in a laugh. He wonders if it’s still her lockscreen.

As if by some twist of fate, maybe his luck is finally turning around, his phone rings. And it’s Y/N.

He’s so excited he spills the remaining bottle of rum as he tries to set it down on the counter. But that could wait. Y/N couldn’t.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Harrison says, choking back tears as her ragged voice greets him on the other end.

“Haz?” There’s a short pause and several sharp breaths before she continues.

“I need you, Harrison. I made a huge mistake.”

***

Taglist (removed anyone who hasn’t interacted w the fic sorry I don’t want to type out a bunch of urls and have nobody interact; if you want to be added back message me!): @gioandreolli @honeymoonparker @itsjusttor @averyfosterthoughts @worldoftom @angelhaz11 @rebekkah4766

#tom holland #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield angst #take me out #wow i didnt see this coming when i started writing tmo yet here we are #tom holland imagine #tom holland series

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nostalgic-pancakes · 3 years

Text

Room 73- Chapter 3/8

The ghost is spoken to, but we also see more character trauma. (at least Virgil and Logan are having an okay time)

Pairings: Implied Thomas/OC, implied sibling-y c!Terrence and c!Valerie, sibling-y Analogical, Creativitwins and Moceit, platonic DLAMPR (soon to have a T in it!), and Romantic husbands Remile! (Also married parents but they don’t have names yet)

Read on AO3!

Word count: 2217

Warnings: References to shifty parenting, unhealthy relationships with food, depression, and of course, the general angst that comes with being yanno... dead for about a century with implications of period-typical sexism and the fallout that death has on your loved ones. Stay safe!

Other notes: Hi! I know this is sooner than usual (and also a bit shorter than usual) but I really wanted to get this out early, because there's two other things I'm working on! A c!Thomas-centric number+1 with friends and side interactions, and a Cartoon Therapy oneshot collection (with only cartoon therapy characters! no sides!) that has found family, Dot and Larry VS the internet, and everyone punting mitchell in the face because he deserves it. You can vote for which one you'd like to see posted FIRST on here!

Now, sorry for that wall of text- here’s the chapter!

——————————————————————————–

Thomas didn’t have anything even remotely resembling a clue as to how he just did that. He hasn’t been able to so much as move for decades, now. Almost a century!

(The only reason he still knows the time is because classrooms date the boards. Everett is 96, Val 95, Terrence 87. )

But somehow, somehow these highschool kids around Thomas’s (? do ghost years count?) age managed to hear him hiss, and now he can talk to them.

In the words of that one kid here in the fifties who was usually half seas over, “ fucking shit!”

The one with the glasses (Logan? Or was it Nico? Naw, Logan.) is still tapping on the funny small glowing box. A phone, or something. (It looks too small to be a telephone, and it has no wires, but the future is pretty crazy!) and the other one, Janus is looking at the space that he inhabits like it’s on fire. Whatever else is happening today is happening, but the corner that Thomas lives in is definitely not on fire, that’s for sure.

Janus begins to step forward a bit, towards Thomas (!!!), and attempts to touch him. His hand goes through, like most things do (bar the occasional stray acid droplet, but they don’t burn anymore) and he pulls it back slowly.

Logan clears his throat, looking up from his ‘phone’ and at Thomas.

“Hello.” he says cautiously, not daring to hope. But Thomas can’t get the words out anymore, it’s like the single work took too much out of him to say it back. So he tries hissing in the morse code that Daddy taught him and (and he taught Val, because she’s amazing, woman or not) hoping, hoping they’d figure it out.

.... .. (hi)

Janus looks confused, but Logan lights up immediately, tapping frantically on his ‘phone’, until it shows something with morse code translations written on it.

“Could you possibly repeat that?” asks Logan, and he’s beaming, and that face is now one of the nicest faces he’s seen since he died. So Thomas tries again. It saps a little energy out of him, but not enough to really be an issue. Not like talking.

“Hello there, uh… do you have a name?”

- .... --- -- .- ... (Thomas)

“Thomas. That’s a nice name. Is it alright if we ask what year you ar- were from?” That question was unexpected, but one Thomas was willing to answer.

.---- ----. ..--- --... (1927)

“Nineteen twenty-seven”. Huh. Wasn’t this part of town a boy’s military school at some point back then?” asks Logan, and Thomas hisses again to signify the yes. He was a student there, under Pop’s behest, while Val stayed home to get ready for being married, even though she was all of eight years old and barely old enough to start her midwife training with basic first aid.

He wonders if she ever got to join the Red Cross like she’d dreamed to do. He hopes so.

Logan’s still asking questions, but Thomas is getting tired again, and the extra clarity letting him reminisce about his family is not helping at all. He makes a series of somewhat weaker clicks, trying to convey he’s tired, and Janus seems to pick up on it, patting Logan on the shoulder and motioning at the door for them to leave, citing a ‘Virgil and Patton’ (brothers?) as a reason to go soon, anyways. Logan huffs a bit, though clearly as a jest, and they say their goodbyes, probaby, based on their hand movements, but by now, Thomas has faded enough to lose a bit of track.

…

“Hey, Val.”

'___'

“Yeah, this is a gravestone. Didn’t expect you to reply. Well, I was always the talkative one before,a dn I can do it again.”

'___'

“So uh, Hey! It’s me again, Terrence, coming with the daisies as usual. I can’t believe that it’s me doing this, ya doof. It was supposed to be you, Val.”

'___'

“Yeah, I guess I should go back soon. Everett’s cold isn’t getting better, nor worse. I wonder what you’d do.”

'___'

“Yes, love you too. I hope you, Barry and Linda are doing alright up there. We’ll… probably see you soon anyways.”

'___'

“Hey- tell Thomas we said hello, and that we still miss him. All the time. Eighty years should be long enough, but it really isn’t, is it?”

(Tommy isn’t here.) …

“Okay, so you’re saying that the ghost, a literal ass ghost--”

“Language!” chirped Patton. It was starting to become routine. “Sorry Pat but okay, so a ghost talked to you over morse code??!!” Exclaimed Virgil, his tone getting more and more excited by the syllable.

“Yes, I literally just said that Virgil.” huffs Logan, pressing his knuckles to his temple. He loves his twin, but times like this really test his (already dwindling) patience with shenanigans.

“Okay, so what did he tell you??” asks Virgil, looking almost starry-eyes with the sheer level of excitement. It’s been a while since Virgil was this excited about something.

Logan clears his throat and taps Janus’s shoulder, taking him away from something he was talking about with Patton, which was involving hushed voices of some sort. Janus extracts the notebook from one of the many, many button-up pockets in his cloak (Patton is good at economical design, whie Janus handles the drama), after scrambling around for a few seconds trying to locate first the book, then the page, handing it to him very quickly before jumping right back into his conversation with Patton. Logan is mildly perturbed by this action, but tries to ‘roll with it’, as Roman would say if he took the bus.

“His name is Thomas, or at least we’re relatively sure that he’s a he, and he died in nineteen-twenty-seven. He was a student here back when the plot of land that is now Haley-Dove lower and upper secondary was a boy’s military school. He began to exhaust himself around here, so we dropped the questions.” Virgil nods, perusing the notes, scribbly as they are that Logan’s made as if they were a short story written by an author he really respects, like Leigh Bardugo, possibly. It makes Logan oddly happy to think about it that way. Virgil’s eyes keep widening over the course of his reading, to levels that are almost comical. Janus and Patton’s conversation has gotten a bit louder, but not enough to hear, still. At the moment, he can’t really bring himself to care. In the end, the bus stops before Virgil can finish reading, so Logan gives him the navy-covered notebook to keep for now and return for dinner, with the instruction to add in his own commentary and ideas on a different page.

Patton and Janus leave the bus last out of everyone, looking rather perturbed and avoiding each other’s gaze, though they’re still clutching each other’s hands tightly. Logan will likely ask what happened on Monday. For now, Amma is at the bus stop, waving at them. She’s the only Indian woman on the stop, so, decently easy to see. Amma picks up Logan’s bag, even though he’s insisted for years that he’s “adjusted accordingly for years, and does not require any assistance!”. Amma usually just retaliates that he shouldn’t need to get used to something with a rather strange expression, but he’s digressing now.

(She started saying it after middle school, and everything that happened there.)

“Hi!” she exclaims, while taking Logan’s bag. Virgil just has his laptop bag and notebook, with his headphones around his neck. They both smile the same.

“Hey, Amma. How’re you doing?” Practiced. Synced. It works every time, as Amma’s grin gets even wider, causing Virgil to start stimming with his ring and Logan to start flapping his own hands.

“Sooo- how’s your day? I see Logan’s notebook with you, V!”

“It’s for a…” Virgil looks at Logan, quietly betraying the fact that he has no clue what to say. Logan indicates to the lizard along the cobblestone path, and his twin’s expression changes into dawning comprehension, as he quickly finishes his sentence.

“It’s for a report on Lizards, Amma, that I’m doing with Remus. You know, Roman’s brother?” she nods, and then smirks.

“Oh, you mean the boy you have a cruuuuuusssshhhh on?” she teases, and Virgil goes red immediately, batting her hand away from his hair, where she was ruffling it.

Wait- how did Virgil have a crush on Roman? They had been friends for all of two weeks, and did not display any crush-like symptoms such as reddening of face, gushing about the crush for hours or purposely trying to get into more situations with the crush, or even doing simple things like taking an obnoxiously long time on singular texts. To his relief, Virgil shakes his head.

“No, it’s not a crush. He’s a good friend, but no.” he says, a bit more seriously, but not dismissively. To Logan, because Logan can hear those things, he says “Not yet.” Logan does not bring it up yet, because it feels like Virgil might need some process time for that, and besides, they share a room. Logan can grill him later, when Virgil is willing to be teased lightly. Or well, he hopes he’s light enough.

…

Mom and Dad are fighting again.

It’s not like the walls are soundproof, no matter what they seem to think. The argument is pretty typical. Small issue begins with civil conversation, becomes slight aggression as two very different people are unable to see eye to eye, and then someone in the middle of a bout of particularly aggressive mood makes an attack on personality, and then it’s all ‘fuck off’’s and crying.

Yeah. it’s a thing. But Remus and Roman know what to do- it’s the fight law. Headphones on, loud playlist on, door shut and internet in full use to avoid the fact that their parents are incapable of shutting the fuck up. This is fine.

Actually no, that’s what Roman says, but Remus knows it isn’t. Roman’s just too scared of conflict by now to bring it up. And who’s fault might that be, huh? (okay, so maybe Remus is a bit resentful.)

Whatever. It’s not like they’ll stop if he and Roman tell them. They’ve tried before.

The problem is that they’re good people. And parents. They definitely try to be the best parents possible. But Remus (unlike Roman) has never had the illusion that his parents are gods, only to have that slowly broken down over time to see his parents as people. They’ve always been people to him- people who try their hardest, but also fall flat in other areas, areas that also happen to be important.

But he should probably make his way to the kitchen to make some fruit salad. Roman probably isn’t going to eat anything else tonight, with how he seems to be doing. Otherwise, those stomach acids are going to gargle and gurgle till they consume his stomach whole! (it doesn’t feel fun to imagine that, so he stops)

(he’s so angry that those idiots thought it was a fucking joke. It’s something he and Virgil agree on, for sure.)

And if Remus tears the granola packet wrapper a little too harshly? Well, it’s not like anyone’s going to hear it at this rate.

…

Patton and Janus aren’t talking to each other, which is probably the one thing he never expected from them.

But they aren’t, and it’s becoming more concerning by the hour. They’re still hanging out together, currently working on one of their sewing projects- embroidering a hoodie in protection sigils as a paid commission for the witch’s girl, and they seem okay in each other’s presence, but they aren’t talking to each other. Just making overly meaningful eye contact, and looking away as quickly as they met eyes.

Patton in particular seems to be pretty upset, as a marked difference from his usual demeanor. He’s pricking his fingers left and right, something that never usually happens, choosing to hand stitch rather than go ahead with the sewing machine that he got for christmas, which was being used by Janus for the moment. In fact, Emile was about to get him some bandaids when he overheard them speak to each other for the first time since they got back.

“Pat, you can’t keep it in forever. You can't. It’ll kill you.”

Patton isn’t replying.

“It almost killed me, Pat please, please just… say something.” Patton does say something after that, but Emile can’t hear it, and he doesn’t feel like it’s something he’s meant to hear anyway. Janus lightens up after that, and Patton starts talking again, monosyllabically and softly, but Janus seems so relieved, that that must be a good thing.

Emile goes, heart heavy, and decides to speak with Remy about the best ways to show that they’re there for Janus and Patton. They’ve only been living with him for a few months, but they feel like their kids, and Emile (and definitely Remy- he’s the ultimate parent-friend) wants the best for them, and for them to be happy. They didn’t deserve the lot they got.

Hopefully, he and Remy can prove that yes, some things are

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #ts logan #ts remus #character thomas #ts emile #ct emile #tw foster care #tw food #tw eating disorders #tw grief #tw sexism #tw implied bullying #vee's writing #series: room 73 #do NOT repost i will come and stab you #or just send tumblr after you

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honeymoonjin · 5 years

Text

Wouldst Thou Like to Live Deliciously? - jimin x reader

A/N: Jimin is sick of being a virgin, and the pressure of the first time with a girl, so he decides to summon a sex demon to get it over with. 4.2k. Warnings for sexual content: male receiving anal, male receiving overstimulation, male receiving multiple orgasms, sub!Jimin obviously

Generally, you were the seeker and not the sought. Sex demons weren’t exactly the most coveted of the demons when it came to humans. You were used to residing on Earth and spending your time in grimy dive bars and alleyways, preying on the spineless men and women that inhabited them. As a succubus, you were sustained by the sexual energy of a human’s orgasm, and when humans wanted to summon a demon, normally they wanted to take rather than give.

Crossroads demons were in high demand; your friend Namjoon had just hit ten thousand souls last month from all the pitiful people on the planet who made deals with him. Even more popular, but much rarer, were demons like your ex Yoongi, who could tell the future for the right price. Never wrong, you had got the feeling that he always knew exactly what was going to happen in your relationship. When you had called it quits almost two years ago, he had already packed his bag and called an Uber before you even got home from work.

Truth be told, regardless of your job, you hadn’t had a good fuck since. Nobody could do it like the man who could predict your every nerve. Though you knew the two of you would never work out, your mouth watered at the memory of one night where he kept you on the edge of an orgasm for three hours, only to walk away and leave you tied up. When he finally returned and fucked you stupid, it was the best climax of your life.

Since then, you had been left with the plentiful scum of the Earth, letting yourself starve so that even the shittiest of lays would at least satisfy you for a while. It was while you were in a suburban neighborhood, ready to take a pathetic cheater of a husband after posing as the babysitter for a month, that you felt the unmistakable pull in your gut. You were being summoned.

You swore, got up off your knees and dropped the innocent act. Mr. Brooks cried out in disappointment and confusion as you ran out the hallway, but you had no choice. Summoning never took longer than twenty or so seconds for you since the recitation was so short, and letting a human see you vanish into thin air wasn’t wise.

Locking yourself in his bathroom and opening the window to fake an escape, you hear the echo of a sweet voice chime in your ears and feel a heat on your skin as the room tilts and shifts and morphs around you.

You end up in a room far different from the white tile bathroom with a seaside theme. This place was clearly a bedroom of sorts, but it was far messier than the bedroom of the suburban father you had just left in the middle of a blowjob. The sheets were all rumpled, the desk and bookshelves covered in scattered academic memorabilia, and you could smell burning incense; aniseed and cinnamon.

There was a young human cowering across from you, arms thrown across its face to shield itself from the burst of flames that had erupted upon your arrival. He probably hadn’t expected the salt circle on his carpet to light up, but he needn’t worry. Hellfire, as dramatic as it sounded, was in reality nothing more than an accessory. Only condemned souls could feel it or interact with it at all. If this human had bothered to look closely before it wicked away, it would have seen the way it floated a centimeter above the salt, never touching it.

Finally, the arms were lowered, and you could see it was a boy who had summoned you. You frowned at how innocent he looked, standing there in blue overalls and a yellow sweater. Surely this wasn’t a child? No, upon closer inspection of his face you could tell he was in his twenties, simply with a youthful face and eyes wide with apprehension.

“Mortal,” you declare lazily, having repeated this particular line far too many times to be bothered with enforcing any real drama or power behind it, “for what purpose do you summon me?”

“Oh, uh, right to it, I guess,” he says awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with a sweater paw. “I really didn’t think this would actually work! Um, I’m Jimin, nice to meet you.”

Now it’s your turn to feel awkward at his apparent unpreparedness, but you keep a cool façade. “You are aware I am a succubus, no? I will not repeat myself again; for what purpose do you summon me? I cannot broker deals or tell fortunes like my brethren.”

“No! No, I don’t want a deal or whatever. I read somewhere that succubae need sex to stay alive, and that it doesn’t kill the victim.”

You shrug. “Correct. And so?”

He laughs nervously. “Well, I wasn’t going to do this, but I got desperate. You see, I’ve kind of always had trouble talking to girls, and all of my friends have alr-”

“I tire of your digressions, mortal. Either answer my question or release me. I have better things to do.”

Jimin shakes his mop of bleached blonde hair out of his face with a blush, avoiding your harsh gaze. “I just want you to have sex with me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You summoned a demon purely to have sexual relations with it? I believe many would consider that inadvisable. There are currently over seven billion humans on this planet. Why not turn to one of your own kind to satisfy your needs?”

His cheeks are bright red at this point, and it pleases you to see. He clears his throat. “I haven’t lost my virginity yet, okay? I’m too nervous to ask a girl out, but I figure if I just get it out of the way then I won’t be so freaked out. Do you want it or not?”

You grin salaciously. “Do I want your virginity?”

“Yes!”

You hum, stretching out one foot to delicately push at some salt and break the circle, knowing without looking that his heart is racing in fear. “You are aware that virginity does not exist as anything more than a social construct of human beings? There is no biological difference between you and any other.”

Finally, he looks up at you with a frustrated pout. “Look, if you don’t want to, I’ll just banish you or whatever. You don’t have to be an asshole about it.”

“Oh, sweet boy,” you purr, stepping out of the broken ring, prowling towards him slowly as he backs up to the wall, “I never said I didn’t want it. Virginity means nothing for you humans, but for me? An untouched soul is the most delicious of all.” His back thumps softly against his bedroom wall, and you reach your hands up on either side of his face to cage him in. You stare at him intensely. “Have you ever masturbated before?”

He splutters and jerks his head down. “Uh, woah, I… Yes, of course I have. Why do you…?”

“A shame,” you sigh, “but still, I’ll enjoy taking you.”

You notice his gaze is still half-lowered, and when he speaks, his voice is light with confusion. “Um, excuse me for asking, but why are you wearing a school uniform?”

You blink and look down at yourself. Over the past five or so minutes you had completely forgotten about your attire, but Jimin is right. You had always gone over to the Brooks family home in a short plaid skirt and white blouse with shiny black shoes. One gift all succubae were given was the insight into any human’s sexual desires and fantasies, and this particular man had a thing for schoolgirls, so you indulged in order to get closer to him fast.

“Never mind that,” you growl, “it won’t be on for much longer.”

Enjoying the desperate way he gasps and swallows hard, you try to distract yourself from the irritating stirring in your stomach. Thinking back to Mr. Brooks just reminded you of the fact that you had put in all that work and never gotten your reward, as he hadn’t made it to an orgasm before you were pulled away. You would certainly get your fill from this boy tonight.

And speaking of him, you leant forward and slanted your mouth across his, pulling him into a deceptively sweet kiss as your body ran on autopilot. Jimin would get caught up in the kiss, lulled into a false sense of security while you dove into his mind, teasing out all the deepest sexual wants he had that he would never dream of telling anyone. Your victims always tasted so much better when their orgasms were fueled by genuine desire and satisfaction, so it was better to let them drown in their fantasies, rather than simply jerking them off to completion.

As Jimin trembled and whimpered into your mouth, you ran your tongue along his wet muscle, sucking and biting and nibbling as you had done for millennia. You could tell by most of his fantasies that he was unexperienced and a romantic soul; cheesy porn fantasies of getting spanked in detention mingled with dreams of making love under the moonlight. Most of it was sickening and boring to you, but as you deepened the kiss and felt him harden against you, his hands rising up tentatively to bury themselves in your hair, more interesting things came up too. You took note and decided to put them into use tonight. Maybe if you ruined him for all future lovers, he’d become a repeat customer. You could certainly get used to it.

You pulled away once you were done, licking your swollen lips and grinning at his whine as his eyes blinked back open. “Are you ready for me, baby boy?”

He nods feverishly, panting slightly. “Wait, I… I don’t know your name.”

“You can call me whatever you want, but I won’t be giving you my name. Names have power; it’s the only way to choose exactly which demon will come when you summon one.”

He frowns as you reach a hand up and brush his hair away from his face but leans into your touch. “I thought I called for you.”

“You called for a succubus, and I just so happened to be the one that got the call. If you say that incantation again as it is, you’ll most likely get a different demon each time. There are legions of us, baby boy. I’m just your lucky draw.”

He sighs in bliss as you intertwine your hands and lead him to his messy bed, pushing him down onto it so he bounces a little and blinks up at you lustfully. “I’m glad it was you.”

“Don’t speak too soon,” you warn, “we haven’t even started yet.”

“Please, noona,” he whines, “I need you.”

You straddle him languidly, pulling one of his hands up and sucking on his pointer finger, flicking your tongue over the pad teasingly. He chokes out a moan and bites down hard on his lip, shifting his hips in the hopes that his painfully hard erection will gain some friction against your core.

You pull your lips off of him with a pop, breaking the chain of saliva that connects you with your tongue, grinning as he shudders at the sight. “I need you to be very honest with me, Jimin. Can you do that?”

He nods obediently. “Anything.”

“I have two questions. Question one: what sexual activities have you done before? Be specific.”

He clears his throat but answers you anyway, looking sinfully submissive splayed out underneath you, hair forming a small halo around his angelic face. What a divine specimen, you can’t help but think. “I’ve kissed before; with tongue once, too. Uh, I’ve masturbated before. That’s really it.”

You nod and brush your hand against his cheek with a warm smile, relishing in the way he nuzzles against it. “Good job, my sweet boy. My last question:” you lean forward on him, ignoring the groan he lets out as you brush against his crotch, and nibble gently on his earlobe as you continue petting the other side of his face. “What do you want me to do to you?”

He whines. “Please, I… Anything, noona. I’ll let you do anything.”

Your core lights up at the thought, but you tug a little rougher on the lobe of his ear. “Use your words, Jiminie. Be more specific.”

When you sit up enough to be able to see the lust in his eyes, you grin salaciously at him and await his answer. He swallows hard. “I want you to use me. I want you to…fuck me.”

“You want me to ride you?” you ask, although you’re well aware it’s not what he means.

He shakes his head, whimpering slightly. “No, I want you to really fuck me.”

You give him a sweet peck as a reward, licking over the seam of his full lips. “But I don’t have a cock, Jimin. How am I supposed to fuck you?”

He swears lowly his in his throat. “Fuck, I don’t…With your fingers. Anything.” He licks his lips, voice dropping to a desperate whisper. “Please.”

You hum in satisfaction and stand up off of him, hearing him sigh in disappointment, his pelvis shifting on the mattress in dissatisfaction. He lifts his head up off the bed to watch you as you keep talking, slowly undressing yourself in front of him. Of course, you could dematerialize your clothes and be naked in an instant considering they were an illusion you manifested for Mr. Brooks anyway, but there’s no fun in that. “Come on, then, honey,” you say sultrily, “I can’t fuck you with your clothes on.”

He jumps up and frantically strips his socks, then wiggles out of his overalls. He’s so focused on obeying your orders that by the time he stops, completely naked with his member smearing pre-cum on his abdomen, he’s missed your little strip-tease.

Now both showing nothing but skin, you can see how his mind is starting to overheat with the pressure of it finally happening. You sigh and step forward to get onto the bed, cross-legged and leaning back on your hands so that you’re fully bare to him. He follows you with his hot gaze, eyes blown with lust. “You aren’t getting cold feet, are you, baby boy?”

He shakes his head quickly. “No, noona. I want this.”

You crook a finger at him. “C’mere.”

He exhales shakily, but he’s harder than ever, the tip almost purple with the amount of blood that has rushed to it.

“Lie back.” He does as you say, and you straddle him again. “Now, I’m going to give you what you want since you asked so nicely, but I think I deserve a little pleasure too, wouldn’t you agree?”

Jimin whines his agreement.

You grin at him, raising your hips so that your folds just touch the underside of his cock, causing him to give a violent shudder and swear slightly under his breath. “So I’m going to fuck myself on your cock while I fuck you. Is that fair?” He nods, eyes fixated on the sight of your pussy just barely touching him. “So, do you have lube?”

He blinks, breaking his heavy stare, and looks up at you. “Sorry, what? Uh, no.”

You frown in fake disappointment. “Well, I can’t fuck you with my fingers if you’ve got no lube.”

“Oh.” Jimin’s face crumples slightly and he bites his lip as he glances around the room. “We could use…uh…”

You reach down and pat his dick a couple times teasingly, feeling his thighs tense up underneath you. “Just kidding, baby boy. It wouldn’t be very professional of me if I didn’t come prepared.”

Waiting until he’s watching you again, you plunge two fingers into your pussy, collecting enough of your juices to coat your fingers. A perk of the job is that your body is always ready to go.

“Oh, god Fuck, that’s hot.” His head tips back but his eyes stay on you as you readjust yourself, sitting flush against his left thigh as you lift his right leg. He licks his lips at the feeling of your wetness against his thigh and clenches his muscles experimentally. The flood of pleasure catches you off-guard and you curl up, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest.

For the first time in the evening, you see a hint of some dominating tendencies with the evil grin he sends you as he relaxes, only to do it again, pairing it with a push up. You moan at the feeling and laugh shakily. “Kitty’s got some claws, after all. Alright, if you enjoy it so much, I’ll just stay here instead of sitting on your cock. Hm?”

“No,” he whines in frustration, pouting and dropping his teasing demeanor.

“Sorry, Jiminie. You had your chance. It’s too late now.” Your slip your fingers, still sticky and glossy with your arousal, down to massage his tight rim. He jumps and the muscles tighten, but you keep working at it with a firm touch, distracting him with the weakest, laziest of hand jobs as you go. Not like he’d know any better, and you didn’t want him cumming too soon. Finally, you manage to get finger in, and once it passes that initial grip, it plunges down, tearing a surprised groan from the boy.

You slowly begin to shallowly thrust, twisting and wriggling your digit until he jerks underneath you and cries out. You grin, and continue to press against his prostate, relishing the beautiful sounds it pulls from him.

“Oh, oh, it’s so good, oh my god,” he chants sweet nothings over and over, eyes clenched shut and completely overcome. Once you slightly tighten your grip around his cock and introduce your second finger into him, he begins panting noisily, whimpering every time you twist your wrist around his sensitive head.

Normally the build-up bores you when it came to most sexual acts, these included, but you find yourself getting drunk on the bliss on his face, wanting nothing more than to lean down and kiss him. No, you tell yourself, at least get him to cum first. It’s why you’re both here, after all.

It takes barely ten minutes to get him consistently crying out at every thrust. You speed up your pace on both fronts and Jimin writhes uncontrollably beneath you.

“Oh, I’m gonna… ah, ah…”

You let out a sadistic laugh. “You know what, baby boy?” He’s too far gone to answer you, but you hold him on the edge as he’s overtaken by sensation. “I’ve changed my mind; I do want to sit on your cock. Will you let me ride you, Jimin?”

You slow down enough to keep his orgasm at bay and he growls in frustration. “Fuck! Yes, okay, just make me cum. Please, noonaaaa.”

You grin salaciously and speed up. Soon enough, his movements still completely for a moment and then he falls over the edge, spurting cum all up his chest and neck. You grin at the sight, and work him through it, only slowing down once he’s spent.

He looks up at you in a hazy bliss, brows furrowed in confusion. “I thought you said…”

His cock isn’t soft yet, and you straddle him fully again, wasting no time before you spear yourself on his cock, immediately riding him like your life depended on it.

“Ah!” He screams and bats his hands at you weakly, trying to cringe away from the assault. “No, it’s too much! I can’t take it!”

“You will take it,” you command gruffly, feeling his cock remain reluctantly hard, dragging deliciously inside of you. “I’m still hungry.”

“Fu-uck,” he whines, “please, no, I’ll do anything.”

You sigh contentedly at the sounds of his cries as you work yourself to the edge. It was rare that a man had a fetish for receiving overstimulation; the trait was much more common in women, you found. So, when you had kissed him before and felt that desire, you knew you had to take your chance. It was occasional that people had fetishes for things they actually didn’t like in practice, but as Jimin’s teary cries turned to shocked moans, like he couldn’t believe it was feeling good again, you knew he really did want it.

“Come on, baby boy,” you pant out, “I want another.”

He sobs, hair sticking to his temples, and his hands gripping tightly on your hips in an effort to stop you. “No, I can’t, I’m going to pass out, it’s too much.”

“Pass out, then,” you taunt, I’m not getting off this sweet little cock of yours until I cum on it.”

He whines, but clearly deep inside he still has some brainpower left, for one of his hands leaves its bruising grip on your hipbone and reaches down, swiping at the front of your pussy until he finds your clit, rubbing feverishly at the sensitive bud until you’re almost at the edge.

At this point, though you’re sure he’s not even aware of it, his hips have begun rutting up against you, so you hold your climax back long enough that he returns again to the brink of orgasm, Jimin letting out an overwhelmed cry with every unconscious thrust.

He screams when he cums, and the delightful sound pushes you over the edge finally. You bat his hand away and work your clit until your finished, having mercy on his oversensitive dick.

You pull yourself off of him, feeling him fall out of you, his cock softening almost instantly on his stomach. The two of you are covered in the mess of it all, so you take the time while he’s in subspace to make your way around his small apartment, still naked, in the search of a towel or at least several tissues.

Returning with some baby wipes you found in a bathroom, you clean yourself and then him, being careful to avoid his sensitive cock as much as possible, and then you get dressed, finally sitting cross legged on the bed beside him.

You run a hand through his hair. “Are you still with me, Jiminie? Can you hear me?”

He blinks out of his daze and focuses on you above him, licking his lips and nodding slowly. After a few moments of your gentle coaxing, he sits up and drinks the glass of water you also prepared for him and then gets dressed himself, in a pair of sweatpants and a shirt instead of the clothes he originally had on.

He finishes his glass and runs a hand through his hair, staring at you in confusion. “Why… why are you being so nice to me?” he finally asks.

“I may be a demon, but I’m not an asshole,” you joke.

He sighs out blissfully. “God, that was incredible,” he confesses, “way better than I imagined it could be.”

You smile proudly and go to reply, but a sneeze stops you in your tracks. You were staring right at Jimin so you know the noise didn’t come from either of you.

Jimin isn’t as confused as you, he just huffs out angrily and stands up, walking over to his closet and throwing the door open. “What the fuck, Jungkook?”

You blink. In the closet, with a sweaty face and a lazy grin, is another boy, around the same age as Jimin, sitting on the floor amongst a pile of clothes. You try not to look at the pile of wet tissues scrunched up in his hands. You could’ve used that, you think, feeling the same disappointment a human feels when someone else enjoys the last slice of pizza instead of them. What a waste.

“What?” the boy defends, not a hint of remorse on his face. “I found the ritual online, I figured you owed me.”

“By watching me lose my virginity?” Jimin screeches.

“If you think I gave a shit what you were doing, you’d be wrong, bro.” He turns to you with a cheesy bow. “Ma’am, if I may say so, you have beautiful tits.”

You stare at him for a moment, then laugh contentedly. Just like humans, sex demons tended to get a little hangry, and you were pleased to finally be enjoying the satisfaction of a decent meal to raise your mood.

You glance back at Jimin, looking between the two boys. “My name is Y/n,” you reveal, “next time either of you are in the mood, replace the last line of the incantation with my name, and I’ll come. Hopefully in both meanings of the word.”

The boy called Jungkook sighs dreamily. “I think I’m in love.”

#bts smut #jimin x reader #jimin smut #bts x reader #jimin oneshot #btssmutclub

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okaybutlikeimagine · 5 years

Note

The shovel talk prompt is so cute. I was wondering if you could do one where the kids or Joyce gives billy a shovel talk since Steve’s dad defiantly wouldn’t do it.

(heyo dears, the post we’re talking about is right here!)

I fuckin love this and you KNOW they both would but in very very different ways.

Bc with Joyce, it’s still very motherly and a lot more gentle than Hop, but also Extremely Serious.

Bc i like to think Joyce has known Steve since he was a very little kid. Like… her kids have always gone to school together and she went to school w/ Steve’s parents. and she doesn’t really like steve’s parents like… at ALL. and she kind of thought Steve was mean (bc he was, guys. Love our babe, he’s a gem, but 1st season he was a jerkwad w/ little to no self awareness and that’s why i love his growth bc he was a teenage boy who grew from his mistakes and i love that for him♥) but he’s softened up in the past year and he babysits all of the kids and it just means a lot to her. She knows she can trust Will in the hands of Steve and that will forever and always mean the world.

And of COURSE she knows she can trust Billy too, but she’s known Steve longer and she’s watched him grow up and she’s seen the way he’s grown and she’s just… so proud of him. She’s so incredibly proud of him. He’s such a good kid and he has a good heart and Billy is also a very good kid with a very good heart (and she will defend that stance till the day she dies) but he can be a bit… rough. She knows it. He’d probably admit to it too. He’s just a little rough and tough and Steve is a very soft boy and Joyce worries.

So she definitely sits Billy down and talks to him about it. She puts a motherly hand on his knee like she always does when she has serious talks with him. She’s very gentle about bringing Steve up.

And then she squeezes his knee a little tighter than normal and says: “Now don’t do anything to harm Steve, alright? Because you’ll have a lot of upset people on your hands, and one of them will be me.”

She’s stern. Billy just kind of… laughs nervously.

But the KIDS… ohgod guys, the kids.

The kids would devote their lives to protecting Steve if they needed to. I’m thinking that Knight guard at the end of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade who loyally guards the grail w/ his life. I’m thinking of them forming a transformer like thing, all of them becoming a different part of the body so they can ward off evils and wrongdoers. I’m thinking something along the lines of London Tipton’s father’s body guards who form a literal blockade around him so you never see his face. Like, imagine these lil children banding together to form a little square around Steve, blocking him from the rest of the world so that no one can touch him or even look at him w/o going through them first. (There’s a scene where London dances w/ her dad except the body guard dudes don’t really move so she’s just holding his hands and all of the body guard dudes are moving side to side as they dance and it’s Hilarious and i just want to put that image into your heads but w/ the kids around Steve and Billy pouting bc whythefuck isn’t he allowed to see him goddamn boyfriend???)(anyway, i digress)(and might be making some references you don’t understand goodness i’m so sorry)

okaY so the kids are all at Mike’s house playing DnD or being dorks or whatever it is 14 yr olds do in a group alone. Or at least, that’s what Billy thinks. He’s really not sure what’s going on, he doesn’t pretend to understand their little shenanigans, he listened to Will rant about DnD character types for about 2 hours last week and his brain still feels a little fried by it so he just…….. He lets it be. All he needs to know is when to drop them off, when to pick them up, and when to tune them out just enough to where he doesn’t feel like a total jackass. Really, only w/ Will though bc Will is his favorite and he’d never wanna upset Will.

Anyway, he’s at Mike’s house, knocking on the door, here to pick Will and El up, when Mike opens the door and ushers him inside immediately.

“Hi Billy come in! We uhhh… we need you to help us… decide something.” Mike says lamely. Billy’s so unconvinced it’s insane.

“Decide something? Seriously? Since when have you nerds ever wanted my opinion on anything?”

“Well uh… this is a weird situation and we need your help.” Dustin says in what he probably thinks is sweet but to Billy is actually just very irritating, but he turns his attention to Dustin anyway.

Billy rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “Whatever, what do you need?”

“Uhhhhhhh…. Now Mike!”

And suddenly, Billy’s world is black and very fabric-y. He’s been blindfolded. It’s very dumb and Mike probably would have struggled if he wasn’t Billy’s exact height so Billy starts wriggling and struggling and reaching for the blindfold when he feels someone grab his hand.

“It’s alright, Billy. We’re just going downstairs.” Will’s calm, soft voice says as he pulls him in some direction. Billy follows with a lot less struggle. He doesn’t wanna hurt Will.

And in a few minutes, Billy’s being pushed into a chair. He’s pretty sure he hears voices quietly bicker over tying him up but the consensus seems to be a “no” on that one bc soon he’s gaining sight again.

His vision clears from it’s blinded blur to see a kid w/ a mop of curly hair in front of his face.

“Hello Billy.” He says like he’s intimidating or something.

“Hi Billy!” El says extremely cheerfully. Dustin turns his head to shush her.

“El! Sh! We’re supposed to be intimidating!”

“Ohhhhh…. Intimidating?”

Max chimes in. “Like, scary.”

“Oh!” El says in understanding, making her best angry face and thinking way too hard and, very suddenly, exploding a lightbulb. She shrieks.

“Sorry…”

“It’s alright El.” Will says kindly, walking towards a closet. “Mike’s mom keeps extra lightbulbs in the closet.”

“Will!” Mike hisses “We’re busy right now!”

Will hits Mike with a silencing look. “I think you guys can handle this.”

Mike pouts. “Why are none of you helping us?” He looks to the corner where Max and Lucas are sitting, Lucas on the arm of a lounge chair and Max on the seat.

“We’re… supervising.” Lucas says over a sip of his soda.

“Yeah, we’re just making sure this dumbass doesn’t get murdered for being stupid.” Max says, gesturing to Dustin who makes a very loud noise of indignation. Max shrugs.

And Billy?? Is tired as all hell. Kinda just wants to leave. Really, he could leave and these little twerps probably wouldn’t even notice. They didn’t tie him down or anything, he’s just sitting in a chair watching these children fumble like idiots trying to be intimidating.

But…. he indulges them. He thinks it’s kind of entertaining. Sure, he could be doing a lot more w/ his day, but seeing these kids be dumb is still vaguely enjoyable. Plus, he likes El and Will and Max and he thinks sitting here for their sake might be worth it maybe.

So he sits and he watches and he listens to Mike and Dustin bicker about how to “interrogate a witness”

“We’re not interrogating him, we’re intimidating him!”

“Well you gotta use the same tactics, right?”

To the point where Max heaves a bit sigh and shoves them aside so she’s standing in front of Billy, sitting in her hip w/ her arms crossed.

“Alright Billy, look. We know you’re dating Steve. And we’re fine with you dating Steve.” She gives a hard look to Mike and Dustin, who look about to chime in w/ opinions of their own, but wither under Max’s gaze. “All we’re saying is we need to set some ground rules here.” Max says as she turns back to Billy. “Number one-”

“Don’t hurt Steve!” Dustin all but screams, causing Max to sigh with a roll of her eyes.

“Alright, yes. Rule number one: Don’t hurt Steve. He’s like… family at this point. He’s super cool and nice to all of us and we care about him so don’t hurt him.”

“Or else I’ll hurt you!” Dustin pipes up again LOUDLY.

“Or Dustin will talk your ear off and probably accidentally spit on you while he does it.” Max says to a chorus of snickers and one very loud “Hey!” from the subject of her teasing.

“Rule number two: don’t be too…. Gross around us.” Max makes a face. “Like, if we have to witness you two kissing more than once a week, that’s excessive.”

At that is where Billy scoffs. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. at least for those of us who don’t live with you. And Number three: I don’t wanna hear ANYTHING about you guys… sleeping together.”

Everyone audibly gags at the thought. Billy is full on laughing now.

“Wow, such a kid you can’t even say the word fu-”

“NONE OF IT. Not even in passing or anything bc you guys accidentally talk too loud. I don’t want to be subjected to any of that.” Max is adamant about it, sealing it with a punch to his shoulder. Billy just puts his hands up in defeat.

“Yeah, fine, whatever. Like I wanna talk about my sex life with a bunch of twerps.”

Billy is thoroughly entertained by the faces of the kids, all looking absolutely mortified, Will’s face blushing like crazy, El’s head tilted bc she doesn’t understand.

Billy gives Max a look.

“Can I go now?”

Max shrugs, eyebrows furrowed bc she’s mad she had to hear the word sex come out of her brother’s mouth. He’s so grossly brazen all the time.

“Yeah, whatever. Just be nice to Steve.”

Billy pats his own knees and gets up, gesturing to El and Will to follow him.

“Let’s go, punks.” He says, the two of them following, Will’s face still red and El’s eyes a little less confused bc she doesn’t really care anymore. They say goodbye to their friends before following Billy out the door.

The three of them leave behind 2 very loud and complaining boys (Mike and Dustin), but it sounds like Max puts them in their place. Billy chuckles as he slips into his car.

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normal-thoughts-official · 5 years

Note

id die for more camboy malec/magnus tbh. thoughts on when they finally get together? or any hot deets on what kinks they may try out?

I mean like i said, i like to think it's when they film themselves having sex in a more vanilla setting for whatever reason (maybe they just- WAIT SCRATCH EVERYTHING I JUST SAID I JUST GALAXY FUCKING BRAINED HERE

they get a request to do something with praise kink. like thats it. no humiliation, no intricate details or setting or fantasy, no toys, just plain old praise kink. "I just want to see Magnus getting fucked and praised. I bet he'd like that" - the requester probably. Same, tbh

it's way more lowkey than the stuff they have started to do on camera, you know. they're into some humiliation stuff, a lot of edging/orgasm denial, exposure - Alec will frequently turn to the camera and be like "dont you guys love seeing the way Magnus is my little bitch?" or, "you love being my pet slut in front of everyone, don't you? bet you're hoping that millions of people watch this, watch you get fucked like that-" but anyway, i digress.

the point is, theyre into some kinky shit, so that's usually what they do on camera. they leave the disgustingly sweet aftercare for the off-camera (theres something about it that makes Magnus feels way more vulnerable than he does when he's getting fucked in front of strangers) as well as their more "vanilla" or lazy sex. but a request is a request, and it's not like Magnus terribly minds being praised (or like Alec terribly minds praising Magnus, for that matter)

so, you know, they decide to do it, run the details of the scene over together, make their arregements and agreements - you know, the usual stuff for their job. making sure they're both comfortable and all. this one is pretty quick to sort out, since it doesn't feature a lot of potentially bad shit

it's just Magnus, wrists tied above his head, being worshipped and praised by alec

and hooooooo boy does alec worship and praise him. he's just running his hands all over Magnus' body, kissing him, massaging him, drawing these pretty dragged-out moans out of him, and telling him how beautiful he is, how much Alec loves hearing him, how much he loves his body. he tells Magnus he looks like art and smells amazing and that he drives Alec crazy, god, doesn't he know how perfect he is? How much Alec wants him? and Magnus is squirming under the praise and moaning and sighing so contendly and Alec rubs his clit slowly and kisses him, and basically, they're like, clearly making love

and they don't even realize it at first, because that's kinda what their off-camera sex usually looks like. but during that they are kind of deep in the fantasy and the fucking and each other, and they don't really realize how romantic and unbearably tender the whole thing is. and once it's over, they convince themselves it's just wishful thinking and their heads

but this time it's on camera. for the whole internet to see

and they don't even remember that, because they're so caught up on each other. and Alec keeps it up, eats him out, carresses his thighs, and Magnus moans and arches his beg and tells Alec he feels so good, and everytime Magnus sighs in content with the slow, but deep and satisfying way Alec eats him out, Alec moans in pleasure too.

and then once it's over Alec is just. lovingly stroking his face and telling him he did amazing and untying his wrists and kissing the inside of them softly. and Magnus is just boneless, perfectly content and satisfied, sprawled out like a cat.

and then Alec looks at the camera and kinda does a double take. it feels like their first time did, when he completely forgot they were supposed to be just working.

but he bounces back quickly and is all smirk and like "guess i wore him out- I'll let you guys know if there's any more action tonight" and turns off the camera and they kinda cuddle and that's it

meanwhile all the horny people who were watching the video have gotten diabetes and cavities, and are just like "hm,"

and then later Alec actually stops to watch the video (what? Its his job! And maybe he likes to rewatch Magnus getting fucked by him. Sue him) and hes like "hmm,"

because its so. jejduddidnd fucking OBVIOUS that he's ridiculously in love with Magnus, like, it's-not-even-funny in love. he kind of briefly wonders if Magnus knew all along and just. pretended not to. because uh jesus christ he clearly looks at him like he's the very foundation of the world

he's mortified for a while, and then he watches it again, kind of hoping that he's just panicking and it's not this bad (it is this bad). but then he sees that magnus- looks back at him the same way, when Alec isn't looking. that he is so responsive to all his loving touches, and doesn't seem uncomfortable in the slightest with them. he realizes magnus is making love to him back

so Alec is like...... okay call me crazy but i think i might have a chance.

so he calls Magnus and is all "so did you.... watch our latest video" and Magnus of course is freaking out because oh god Alec has seen the way Magnus looks at him and this is so bad because he knows Alec was just acting and playing it up for the requester but he had to go and lose himself in the fantasy and act like it was real and make their whole "friends-slash-porn-coworkers with benefits" thing weird. and Magnus is like "haha yea" and almost apologizing to him but Alec just takes a deep breath and, in true Alec fashion, just goes "so i guess it's out in the open. I fell in love with you. Do you wanna go on a date with me?"

and Magnus is like "of course! wait, what?" and Alec laughs himself hoarse at this response and Magnus tells him to shut up, he didnt process, he thought Alec would be mad at him, but yes theres nothing he'd have loved more. and they just keep teasing each other on the phone and making fun of their own oblivious selves and exchanging jabs until like, two am or something. they reluctantly let go of their phones to go to sleep and meet the next day for their first real date. and the rest is history

#they speedrun through all of the following dating stages after that because lets be real. thats the malec lifestyle #sh #shadowhunters #smut #malec #malec smut #trans magnus smut #magnus bane #trans magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec fic #malec ficlet #malec au #fic idea #ask #anonymous #long post #camboys au

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prorevenge · 5 years

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Sergeant DGAF 'Bout Your Emergency

So this started more than a decade ago, but I remember (most of) it like yesterday. It is my own story, and I tell this from my perspective. This is a long story, but I promise you will be staring at the screen, thinking “dafuq?” by midway through.

Background

Early 2000s. I was in the military, mid 20s, stationed somewhere in Europe. Rank E-4. It’s a bit different when you’re stationed overseas, and your squadron basically becomes your extended family. The Mission is always priority #1, but everyone tries to go the extra mile to make sure their people are taken care of. This was my second assignment, and my second overseas assignment.

I had just gotten married when I was on an extended leave back in the States, during my PCS (Permanent Change of Station; officially changing your assigned base) to this new location. I became an instant father overnight, now having a wife and a 3-year-old (step) daughter when I had none before. My wife became pregnant with our son about 5 months later.

My new supervisor was a Master Sergeant, who I will call Bastar(d) Sergeant [sic], or BS, for the rest of this. Bastar-Sergeant the Master Sergeant.

BS was a family man, married for a while (about ~15 years or so) and had two kids with his wife, as well as two kids of his own from a previous marriage, with his wife ALSO having two kids from a previous marriage. This is relevant because BS, being a family man with six kids ages 4 to 17, often would have stuff going on with his family and need to cut out early, miss morning briefings, and so on.

It was no big deal if we weren’t working on mission critical stuff. It’s rough when the nearest military hospital is 30-45 mins away at another military facility and you can only depend on your own immediate family and fellow military members. Just about everyone, BS especially with his larger family, had to cut in and out of work fairly frequently when we didn’t have big things going on. But hey, take care of your people, they’ll take care of the mission.

Now, BS and I got along really well at first. He and his wife were both quite the “socialites” and would constantly – damn near every weekend – have parties at their house and invite people over. It was fun at first, but it really grew tiresome. Being a new family man myself, and really just starting to figuring it all out (translated: how to keep your wife happy and not both be miserable, while still trying to be a functional adult in the military), and I just could NOT keep up with the party-every-weekend lifestyle.

BS and Mrs. BS drank a lot at those parties, too. You could tell it took a toll on their health. I guess that might be tempting with that many kids, and a 17-turning-18 daughter that had just gotten pregnant with her foreign boyfriend, but I digress…

Like I said, I just couldn’t keep up, not every weekend. I slowly fell out of favor with BS and his “Good ol’ Boys Club.” He wasn’t hostile per-se, but there were times he would just get mean, and with increasing frequency. He would call me into his office for tiny things, like thinking I had shown up to work late, when I could prove that I had been logged in on my terminal 10 minutes before start time – meaning I was at least 15-20 mins early due to walking times, putting my coat and stuff in lockers, etc. But my terminal’s clock, synched with the atomic clock, didn’t matter compared to his clock on the wall.

I was also called out for attending big medical appointments for my wife’s pregnancy, like being there when they determined my son was a boy – I was called out specifically when everyone else was doing the same thing.

The assignment was slowly turning into hell. Meanwhile, the members of the Good ol’ Boys Club would often be very late (without phoning), constantly going to appointments, and so on. There was definitely some favoritism going on. But in such a small unit, overseas, what can you do? The guy was even buddy-buddy with the First Sergeant, and they had been friends since bootcamp.

Anyway, enough background. Onward!

The Main Event

This is where things got crazy. My son had just been born, healthy and at a good weight, not even two weeks earlier. I came home from work after a very long day, about 13 hours on a normal 8 hour shift, due to some stuff breaking.

My wife was exhausted because she was still healing from the birth, and our son had gotten really, really cranky and irritable through the day. He was non-stop fussing and feeling slightly warmer, but not quite running a fever.

I let her go to sleep, and to give her peace, I tried to sleep in the chair downstairs with the kiddo bundled up on me. He got worse and worse through the night, and at about 0300 hrs, I noticed that his diaper smelt really strange (sorry to gross you out), with just pee. It was a sickly smell, not at all what anything from a human body should ever smell like. He seemed hot, so I went to take his temperature. He had risen to 103.5 F – VERY dangerous for an infant.

Fuck.

I immediately wake up my wife and rush him to the hospital. She stays behind at home with our daughter, since the ER is no place to keep a young kid and we didn’t know anyone that could watch her at that late of an hour.

Since it would have taken longer to wait on an ambulance out in the countryside, I sped to get him to the military hospital’s ER in about 20 mins. They immediately put him on fluids and call in the on-call pediatrician. They move him to the ICU, and after a few long hours, I get told that they believe he has a urinary tract and kidney infection, and while they had gotten his temperature down to a safer spot, we weren’t out of the woods yet.

While waiting, knowing that my regular work day was coming up, I tried calling everyone’s phone number I had, but nobody answered. At the gym probably. After leaving some voicemails, I gave up and decided to wait until people roll in at 0700 hrs. I kept trying to call the unit phone number, but no one answered until 0720. I get asked by one of the guys where I was, I let him know I’m at the hospital due to an emergency with my newborn, and he gets BS over to the phone.

BS: OP, where you at?

Me: I’m at the hospital. My son is in the ICU, had a fever of 104 and a serious infection. I’ve been up all night and haven’t slept.

BS: Well you should be at work. You missed PT, and you’re late.

Me: *pausing, because, WTF?* … I need to come into work? My son had to go to the ER, he’s in the ICU…

BS: I don’t want to hear it. You’ve already been late multiple times. [but not really, as I mention above] *angrily* Get your ass down here!

Me: … Uh, well I’m not in uniform. I will have to stop by my house. One parent is required to be here, so I need to see if one of my neighbors can give my wife a ride to the hospital, and our daughter has to be dropped off at school because children can’t be in the ICU.

BS: Just get here. *hangs up*

I was completely floored. What. The. Actual. Fuck.

At no point in my entire military career, before and since then, have I EVER heard of anyone being forced to come in to work when an immediate family member was in the hospital for an emergency. I was half confused, half outraged, and wholly beside myself.

My wife shows up, I take the car home after updating her and making plans to take care of our daughter while we rotate shifts at the hospital. I did a very quick SSS – shit, shower, shave – and drive over to the shop.

BS ignored me when I arrive, other than a sidelong disapproving look. I start my usual routine, but I am exhausted, worried sick, and pretty fucking angry all at once. Some of my coworkers heard what happen and are concerned, but BS the tyrant seems to be angry himself and no one wants to approach him.

Revenge, Part 1

A few hours went by, with me keeping in touch with my wife on the status of our son. I tried approaching BS a few times, but he was having none of it.

One of the other Master Sergeants in the squadron, part of a different unit, but whom I had worked with before, came by and noticed me probably looking distraught. We’ll call her Hero Sergeant, or HS. She pulls me aside to one of the quiet corners of the shop.

HS: OP, are you okay? You look terrible?! Is something wrong?

Me: [I tell her about my son being sick and in the ICU – I was barely able to hold my composure in at this point, I was so angry yet so worried and downtrodden about my son, and I’m fighting to keep it together through the exhaustion and lack of sleep.]

HS: WHAT?! Why the hell are you here?!

Me: I’m not sure. BS ordered me to come in when I tried to explain. He won’t talk to me.

HS: Fuck that. Hang tight.

HS then quickly walks off. Now, our unit is on the other side of the base from the main squadron: about 15 minutes later, just enough time to drive to the squadron and back, HS appears – along with our unit Captain, and the squadron’s Major (XO to our Lt. Colonel CO).

The Major storms toward the unit office section, pauses and looks right at me, and says in an obviously angry but soft voice…

Major: OP, get out of here. Your place of duty is the hospital until your son is discharged. Don’t step foot in one of these buildings until then, I don’t care how long it takes. Take care of your family. Are we clear?

Me: *as I start to scramble* Yes, sir.

Major: *yelling* BS, GET YOUR ASS IN THIS OFFICE RIGHT NOW!

I proceed to quickly gather my shit together, all while seeing BS head toward that same office door and he gives me a glowering look on his way in.

As I leave, there is no possible way to doubt that everyone in the area, probably the whole building, could hear BS get absolutely reamed and raked over the coals by the Major as I departed. The Major was always a quiet and fair man, I had never seen him anywhere even approaching angry, so it was absolutely terrifying to behold.

I have to admit, it felt good to know that he was getting some of what he deserved.

My son did clear up eventually and was discharged from the hospital 5 days later, healthy and no harm done, thank God!

I know this first part’s “revenge” isn’t quite revenge, but it was sweet, sweet karma to see that asshole put in his place. Still, as good as it was, it made things worse between BS and I much, much worse.

Fallout

Well after all that, BS hated my guts. Obviously, it would be career suicide to openly retaliate against me, so he found little ways to do so at every opportunity. That wasn’t to say I didn’t have my faults, I certainly did, and I made mistakes no doubt, but what he did was particularly underhanded.

You see, it wasn’t until he PCS’ed to his new assignment that I learned what he had done. My new Sergeant (NS) was awesome, highly relatable, and knew BS from previous deployments together - he indicated on more than a few occasions that he wasn’t exactly fond of BS.

In the meantime, I had gone to training to become a Sergeant myself and graduated at the top of my class with honors. I then went on to another deployment to the “sandbox” and came back with some major kudos from leadership there, working my butt off every day wanting to prove I was more than what BS tried to paint me as. It was after my return to home station that I learned what BS had been up to - completely behind the scenes.

Remember how even the First Sergeant was buddy-buddy with BS? Well the FS had also PCS’ed while I was deployed. Our new FS went through everyone’s Personnel Information Files (PIFs) and discovered that I had a massive - and I mean massive - stack of Letters of Counseling (basically, you got a “talking to,” and the LOC is documentation proving it) and even a Letter of Admonishment (LOA), a more serious version just under a Reprimand.

I found out from NS that when he and his boss were talking with FS, he was wondering how the hell I hadn’t been kicked out of the service with such a track record. But then he also noted how suspicious it was that every single one of the LOCs and the LOA lacked my signature - something that is required by regulations, acknowledging your reception of it (though not admitting guilt).

I had never been shown these, nor had any idea they existed. The majority of them were very minor infractions, almost none of which I had committed in any fashion. Even more strange, NS caught onto details that there were four of them dated for the same time I was in training (at a different base / different country), and one during a short deployment I had gone on earlier. It didn’t add up, and all three sergeants found it rather confusing and shady.

Thankfully, my performance once I was out of the shadow of BS was more than enough to convince all three sergeants that I was not the dirtbag that BS was trying to paint me as. I don’t know the details, but I do know that his pseudo-forgeries (he could just claim they were “incomplete” and not meant to be filed) caught up to him and he caught some flak for it. He retired not long later, and I hope that it was a black mark on his record.

Revenge, Part Two

So this is where it gets interesting again. Fast forward about four more years. I had gotten out of the service by then, finishing my second enlistment, and I moved back to the States to take advantage of the GI Bill.

It’s also worth mentioning that I’m an IT guy, and I’ve always got at least a dozen boxes of parts, tools, and hard drives. It’s also what I was in college for at the time.

I’m going through a stack of old ATA hard drives to see what I could salvage for a lab projects (we basically needed a bunch of “victim” machines to test against, and a few of us had old ATA motherboards hanging around). I’m checking them before I scramble/wipe the drives to make sure they’re working fine, and to make sure I’m not deleting wanted files/archives.

I’m flipping through this drive’s old files, nothing much beyond typical Windows folders, until I hit a buried directory with a bunch of images in it. I can tell they’re of the X-rated kind from thumbnails - not surprising, I’m a guy, and who didn’t have a sizeable porn stash in their single days, right?

But then I realized… these weren’t porn shots. These were homemade. It definitely wasn’t anything I had ever done. But I recognized something almost immediately - a unique lower back “tramp stamp” on the woman in the photos (faces were never shown). A tattoo I remember clearly: one of the wives of a guy in my old unit was showing it off after she had gotten it.

And the guy she’s on top of? Far, far too pasty of a skin tone to be her husband. It was then that I realized that this was one of the drives I had salvaged from a broken old PC that BS had given me for parts, back when we were still on good terms.

BS had been cheating on his wife with one of his subordinate's wife. Looking at the background of the photos, it was obvious that this was in the home of BS, too - if you remember, we had all been there many times.

Time to extract some revenge. I would like to tell you that I did some cool scene out of Mr. Computer or some crap like that, but really, simple efficiency won out here.

I knew BS, Mrs. BS, and the other couple were all on Facebook (they’d often come up as recommended friends-of-friends). I created an account that vaguely sounded like someone we could all know, and had military work history to match the assignment, in order to protect my own privacy/identity. I sent a few messages each to Mrs. BS and the husband of the tattooed wife. Once I got responses asking, basically, “Who is this?” I just pasted a number of select photos from the private photo shoot.

Mrs. BS, obviously recognizing her husband’s body and their old home in Europe, kept saying “WHAT THE FUCK?” - I said I was just the messenger, and to do with the photos what she pleased.

The husband of the tattooed wife first thought my new identity was the man in the photos and started to threaten me, until I told him to pay special attention to the background. He realized who the man in the photos was, having also been in that house countless times, and thanked me for telling him the truth. While we weren’t close, I do feel really bad for him. :(

(I didn’t feel too bad for Mrs. BS because she turned into a snob when BS got mean.)

I heard through my buddies from the unit that both couples were divorced, roughly a year later. All the old crew knew exactly who had cheated with who. I also heard that the divorce of BS and Mrs. BS was particularly bad. Nobody knows who leaked the photos, though.

Closing

This is the first time I have admitted to what I did, just for the sake of revenge and getting back at the bastard who did so much to personally attack me, even in a time of need, and who very nearly ruined my military career. Part of the reason I decided to get out of the service was because of him - I never wanted one person to have that much control over my life again.

I hope you enjoyed my story, sorry it was so long, but there was just so much that happened. I could add even more crap that he did, too.

And to Bastar-Sergeant, if you ever read this someday, I’m sure you will have realized who I am. I only have one thing to say to you: Fuck you - you deserved it.

(source) story by (/u/Celesae)

#prorevenge #by /u/Celesae #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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bxstiae · 4 years

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⚜ ; [ BOTW / OTHERWORLDS.2 ] WORLDBUILDING │ VERSE

Honestly, i was trying to write a reply for @wildshero & then i thought maybe.... i should let people know a few things about Twilight Princess Link in the setting of Breath of the Wild. I feel like it would just be better for people to know a bit more about the verse since it’s actually one or my more favourite verses imo. but first allow me to refresh everybody on what i have for the verse.

let it be know that i will differentiate between the links for the rest of the post as the following: Wild = BOTW Link Twilight = TP Link

NAME: Twilight, Wolfie SPECIES: wolf HEIGHT: 4’3” ‘ IS A LITTLE SHIT ’ Summoned as a wolf by Wild Child. He has to deal with his antics without rest or until he is returned back to his home world. Until then, the Link of this world must deal with the Cheeky Hero-Beast. Nobody said he had to play nice.

Another tidbit, i will always, ALWAYS RP Twilight in a post, TP state when he is in BOTW. Meaning that he already accomplished his role as the saviour of hyrule & things are at a somewhat normal state for everybody. he is currently looking for ways to look for midna & often times runs into random ‘twilight portals’ that are still in his world. these portals are like the normal portals you use in TP, however these are a bit different because they react when 2 things happen. 1: when twilight’s twili shard is nearby & 2: something ‘else’ happens that causes the portal to activate. that something else -- for BOTW purposes -- is when Wild uses the sheikah slate. consider these portals though more like random rifts in twilight’s world. sometimes he can’t even see them.

one this is for certain though: when he teleports -- only his body is taken. his master sword of his world is not taken with him. so the chances of him turning back into a human are very slim UNLESS he touches or tries to hold the master sword in wild’s world. Also another thing: twili magic works very differently in wild’s world. sometimes twilight -- if he wants to stay close to wild, is able to WILL himself to teleport to wild. but if he stays too far from wild for an extended period of time, he will be teleported back to his own world. he legit cannot stay alone in the wild’s world because it’s not his world. the thing that is keeping him there is the sheikah slate. so obviously if he’s not around it for a long time then he will naturally go home.

anyway, everything else will be under a read more because it talks about twilight’s relationship with wild & so on.

Honestly though, THIS POST made me really think about how Twilight would consider Wild as. if Wild was just a child to him, or if he considered him more as an equal. I feel like it would be the former tbh. THIS OTHER POST kind of proves a bit into that theory as well. Twilight obviously knows a lot more than Wild does & not just because Wild lost his memory.

Wild, in many ways, is still ‘young’ in the aspect that he hasn’t taken down ganon like how Twilight has. Twilight has fought many things, took down the Demon King himself, & lost a beloved friend while also losing part of his humanity as well. he’s only in his early 20s & he suffers from survivor’s guilt and its trying to mend a broken/betrayed heart.

am i ignoring that wild has amnesia? no. i am not. wild himself has gone through hardships, i will not lie about that. he almost lost to ganon. the other champions have all died. & zelda is keeping ganon at bay. but he doesn’t know what it is like to have fufilled the prophecy in his world. at least not like how twilight has.

I brought it up in another post about it, but essentially twilight feels empty after the defeat of ganon. not only that, but he also feels used. now that ganon is gone, he.... doesn’t know what to do with himself. & his friend destroyed the only known why to visit her. so yes, he... feels shattered. his heart weighs so heavy because after such a long journey, he can’t just move on. it’s like everything was stripped from him & he’s back to ‘just being plain old link: ranch hand of ordon village.

so yea, wild IS a child compared to twilight. his antics are all over the place -- wild is incredibly fickle. he feels like he’s dealing with the ordon children all over again. yet at the same time its just like the ordon children. he wants to help wild. he wants to protect him. in a way, he wants to prevent wild from having the same fate as him. yes he KNOWS what it feels like to be empty. wild is not empty, just because he doesn’t have any memories doesn’t mean that he is empty. wild is just lost. twilight wants to help him, & yet he doesn’t want to rush anything.

there was a post that discussed the personality of wild but i can’t find it. but it has to deal with the japanese version. ( another reason why i hate the english translations ) in the japanese versions, all the entries in the sheikah slate are LINK’S entries. its like link is keeping a diary to HELP him remember. so in wild’s case with twilight, its THE SAME THING.

the problem is that the more he remembers, the most intense they are. mainly because pieces of the memories are now wielding together. they aren’t just random fragments. the puzzles pieces are now fitting together. but you try to remember everything too fast? it can be incredibly devastating & more harmful than helpful. twilight recognises this. he knows this because lanaryu did that to him when he was given the vision. it can be harmful to one’s mental health especially if you aren’t prepared. it can lead you down a dark path & you can end up doubting yourself.

so if wild is rushing in trying to remember everything, it can hurt him. it could make him more reckless because he is simply more determined to win. just imagine this: somebody lashes out in anger after finding something out. you aren’t thinking, you are acting out on anger -- on emotion. it’s the worst thing to do especially in war. you HAVE to be calculating, especially with ganon. you cannot fight ganon with anger & pain. GANON IS THE EPITOME of those emotions. you will only be predictable & naturally, fighting anger with anger doesn’t work out. link will die because ganon is stronger than link mentally in this aspect. wild cannot go in blindly: he doens’t have zelda this time to give him another chance.

& yes, twilight KNOWS all of this. you are the only one who knows you the best. for twilight, he knows wild in a sense that wild is another incarnation of himself. twilight has also met the hero’s shade as well to know that there are several things that always get reborn with the hero of courage. one is that every link is reckless in some way, shape, or form. they have to be! they are the hero of courage; fear is not supposed to be in their blood. i say fear isn’t suppose to be, but anxiety still can be. any link can still hold some sort of doubt &/or self-blame. it’s a given. they are all heroes after all. they are not perfect, & they are expected so much. but each link can take it in differently. though i digress. my main point is that every single link is reckless. ( yes, even twilight, one of the more calculating heroes of courage is also reckless, it’s in his blood )

so yea, twilight worries for wild. he should. but anyway. that doesn’t mean twilight won’t be a little asshole to wild. as much as wild has his antics, so does twilight. wild often times does some really stupid shit, so naturally twilight would too. just to annoy him. call him petty if you want, but twilight is just a tired boy.

please let it be known that while twilgiht is an asshole sometimes, he is VERY protective of wild! he would consider him a best friend ( eventually ) and a companion! Wild does, in fact, fill the voidness in twilight's heart, and while he may be annoyed with him 80% of the time, he still cares for him. a lot.

uh.... some other things to consider too. twilight would not hesitate to pick up the master sword if wild is severely injured. while he may transform back as a human, he still is a swordsman at heart, and if he’s canine body cannot defend wild, then so be it, twilight would transform to his normal state & risk his life for wild. he will always be better & stronger with a sword than his beast form anyway.

while twilight calls wild ‘link’, wild does actually call him twilight! or twi for short. wild gave him the nickname for a few reasons.

1: his fur & the patterns in it. twilight’s fur is not just one brown, its a mix of brown that kinda resembles that mix of yellow-orange found literally at dusk/twilight. 2: twilight is actually most solemn & quiet at the twilight hours. wild can tell that he’s a bit distance during this time as if he’s thinking about something or rather, something is on his mind. 3: the twili magic that causes him to warp is obiously very twilight-esque. aside from the legends passed down, wild would most likley recognise this as twilight magic -- especially when they find midna’s helmet. because it only confirms that the legends are true: that twilight magic exists & that twilight has something to deal with it. 4: the sheikah slate actually registers twilight as twilight instead of link -- even if he were to be in his human form, the piece of technology considers him as that. besides, if twilight were to ever transform ( mind you he probably wouldn’t unless forced to ), twilight would say that his name is twilight.

does wild know that twilight is him but from another time? honestly, i don’t know.it’s up for debate. i probably could go either way to by honest, but i think my natural instinct is to say that no, wild does not realise that twilight is him but from another time. but that’s my 2 cents on the subject.

also: other names wild calls twilight is puppers, bud, & wolf/wolfie. twilight PREFERS twilight though, he feels a bit sentimental and happy when he’s called that. & it is ABSOLUTELY noticeable cause twilight will wag his tail when he is called twilight. don’t judge him.

more to come when i think of anything else.

#headcanon tag.#botw verse tag.#[ honestly though ]#[ i love talking about meta ]#[ anyway ]#[ you know the usual ]#[ ask for perms if you wanna use etc etc etc. ]

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