#it's just one of those days where the entire internet is going to shit‚ huh? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cromulentbookreview · 2 years

Text

Lost in a Cheese Trance

*wakes up*

*looks at internet*

Maybe I should check that book review blog I’m supposed to be working on. Huh, looks like I haven’t updated this book review blog since *shuffles papers* last November?

Wait, what is it now?

July? Oh. Shit.

I’d like to say my absence was for a good reason. But there wasn’t. I’m just lazy. Plus, there were so many digital advanced review copies for me to choose from and along with those are the already released books that I need to read...that and I just didn’t feel like it. I do that sometimes. One minute I’ll tell myself I’ll write one review a month and the next minute it’s been eight months of “...I’ll get to that later.”

And I never got to it. Until now! Yay!

(all those crickets and tumbleweeds you’re hearing are because nobody reads this, but I’m going to keep writing these anyway).

If there was any book that could bring me out of my laziness-induced hiatus, it is Sona Movsesian’s hilarious memoir detailing the downfall of her own ambition.

And by that, I mean: The World’s Worst Assistant by Sona Movsesian!

How does someone who worked so hard to get her foot in the door end up as the World’s Worst Assistant? Keep reading and I’ll show you a brand-new world, one where deadlines are spurned, professionalism is seldom upheld, and you’ll never have to miss an episode of your favorite TV show.

-From the uncorrected copy of The World’s Worst Assistant.

Sona Movsesian is the first to admit she isn’t great at her job. Which is a bit of a problem when you’re the assistant to comedy legend Conan O’Brien.

Sona is a boss who doesn’t give a single fuck. But she didn’t start out that way. She came into her job as Conan’s assistant as someone eager to do a good job. But, like so many of us, as the years passed, she got comfortable in her job.

Comfortable enough to no longer give a shit.

Now, before I get into Sona’s book I should explain: I’ve been a fan of Conan O’Brien practically since birth.

Not only is he responsible for some of the best episodes of The Simpsons, ever, (Marge vs. The Monorail, Homer Goes to College and New Kid on the Block), he’s also my favorite ever Late Night host. Growing up, they’d play last night’s Conan at 6 PM and we’d watch it religiously. In high school, we’d watch the monologue, the post-monologue bit, and then, during the interviews, my dad would try to help me do my math homework. Unfortunately, I’m both easily distracted and terrible at math.

Now, I’m not saying Conan O’Brien is the reason why I did so poorly in math during high school but, I mean...

Who could possibly focus with that going on in the background?

I still remember being heartbroken when Andy left the original Late Night show, and how elated I was to see him come back for The Tonight Show.

And as for that debacle, well...let’s just say that was my entire sophomore year of college and I even wrote a term paper about it. I am not kidding.

Anyway! I’ve been a Conan fan forever. I have a Late Night shot glass, a Tonight Show T-Shirt, the OG I’m With Coco shirt from back in 2010, and I went to the very first Legally Prohibited from Being Funny On Television Tour show because, lucky for me, it was held in Eugene, Oregon. I mean, major tours almost never stop within driving distance of me, but oh man. I still have merch from that tour, but they’re a bit beat up now (my Team Coco bottle opener has long since lost all its orange lettering so it’s just a plain black bottle opener now) but still.

Fun fact: for roughly half a second you can see actual human me in the Conan O’Brien Can’t Stop documentary waiting outside of the Hult Center. That ticket was the best money I, as a broke college student with exactly zero dollars to spare, ever spent.

Anyway: big Conan fan. Cried when he ended his show on TBS but I listen to Conan O’Brien Needs A Friend every day during my morning commute.

But enough about Conan.

Let’s talk about the Queen herself: Sona Movsesian.

Sona has been part of some of the best bits of Conan’s TBS show and on his podcast. If you haven’t seen some of the bits they’ve done together, I highly suggest you stop reading now and watch a few. Or just leave this page altogether, watch the Conan Without Borders they did in Armenia.

As you can see from some of the bits they do together, Conan and Sona exist as foils for one another: Conan is the anxious, highly-strung workaholic, and Sona is the chill assistant who shrugs and goes “eh” and figures everything will work out fine in the end. Hilarity inevitably ensues. Throw in Matt Gourley, the podcast producer who exists somewhere in the middle ground between Conan and Sona, and you’ve got one of the top 50 podcasts ever!

At number 46.

Honestly, my favorite bits of the podcast are when the trio of Conan, Sona and Matt just BS amongst themselves. Together, the three of them are absolutely hilarious. I’ve always found Conan to be at his most hilarious to be when he’s interacting with others, and Sona and Gourley are perfect foils. Also, listening to them just reminds me so much of me and my siblings talking together - where we’ll banter and rag on each other and make sure one is taken down a peg when they need to be, just as Sona, Conan and Gourley interact with one another. And it’s never mean, either, it’s in that way that you see with siblings - everyone cares about each other, but by God they will poke fun when there is fun to be poked.

Fun to be poked? Sounds disgusting, but whatever. At least I’m writing and not sitting around for eight months going “...yeah, I’ll write another post later...”

What was I talking about?

Oh, right, The World’s Worst Assistant!

Sona’s memoir isn’t just a book about being a terrible assistant. It’s a manifesto against the shitty working conditions lower-level employees face on a daily basis. Sona encourages her readers not to take shit - she uses a pretty apt Human Centipede metaphor to describe how mistreatment in the workplace is often perpetuated: the lowest employees are treated like shit, they eventually get promoted and then they treat those below them like shit…shit rolls downhill, the abused always kick downwards, etc. etc. But, as Sona points out, the way to stop this cycle is to STOP TREATING PEOPLE LIKE SHIT. Employers, quit treating your employees like shit. Employees, quit taking your employers’ shit. It’s not worth it. And, if you’ve taken shit from your employer and got promoted? Don’t immediately start treating those below you like shit.

Reviewer, you probably aren’t asking, do you have to keep using the word shit?

Yes. Yes I do. If you don’t like it you can leave.

Wait, no, don’t leave! How else will I get people to read this dumb review blog? No! Come back!

Aside from her hilarious, but very, very real take on how bosses often abuse their power when it comes to the staff who work below them, Sona also details the best ways for an assistant to get away with doing as little as possible. As someone who has worked their fair share of admin jobs (my boss referred to me the other day as their “assistant” and I was like...fair...) I am definitely familiar with some of Sona’s methods, but some are just next level. Being able to pull off a nap at work? That is the absolute dream. Alas, my current workplace has no sofas to crash on. Also I don’t believe in sleeping during the day, nighttime is for sleep, sleeping during the day wastes daylight hours that could be spent toiling in the fields. Sorry, my ancestors were all dirt farmers and I’m convinced that this is the reason why I don’t like napping during the day. But having spent so many years having to be up at, like, 4 AM to get to work on time, sometimes you need a nap around noon so you don’t fall asleep during the drive home. Someday I hope to use Sona’s nap-during-work-hours secret. Someday.

If you think that these methods are a sure way to get fired, don’t worry! Sona has a solution for that. She details all the ways you can make yourself indispensable at work while also gathering up all the things you need to make yourself unfireable. Is unfireable a word? There’s no red underline on in my google doc, so it is now. We lowly admin types are often under-paid and neglected, but, as Sona reminds us, our power lies in the fact that we know everything. Credit card numbers, where the good office supplies are kept, all the passwords, everybody’s schedule...of course, we’d never actually use any of this as a weapon, but sometimes it helps to hint that we could. Maybe.

In all, The World’s Worst Assistant was an absolute joy to read. Sona’s writing is uproariously funny and her stories are incredibly relatable, especially if you (like me) have ever been an admin or someone’s assistant. The only criticism I can think of is that if you come into this book blind, you will have no idea what is going on. You have to be familiar with Conan O’Brien, his shows and his podcast to know a lot of what Sona is talking about - as a lifelong fan, I loved it. However, if you are like “Conan O’Who now?” then you’re probably not going to be too geared up to read a book by his assistant, even if it is one of the funniest books I’ve read in a long time.

RECOMMENDED FOR: Fans of Conan O’Brien needs a friend, anyone who has ever worked as an assistant or any sort of admin position, anyone who has ever worked in or wanted to work in entertainment.

NOT RECOMMENDED FOR: people who have never watched Conan, people with no sense of humor, bosses, people who inherited all the money and have never had to work a day in their life, people who have ever even thought the phrase “Jay Leno is funny”, people who have something against fun and joy.

RELEASE DATE: July 19, 2022

RATING: 5/5

TOTALLY UNBIASED TEAM SONA RATING: 500,000,000,000 / 5

NUMBER OF TIMES I SPAT OUT MY DRINK LAUGHING WHILE READING THIS BOOK: 8

WHAT THIS REVIEW BLOG REALLY IS:

OBLIGATORY PODCAST REFERENCE:

KEDAKAI!

AS GOD MADE HER.

#world's worst assistant #sona movsesian #conan o'brien #conan o'brien needs a friend #conan podcast #conan #sona #matt gourley #conan and the chill chums #team sona #team coco #the world's worst assistant #memoirs #comedy #funny book #humor

8 notes · View notes

dzpenumbra · 1 year

Text

11/29/22

Big day. Seems like a lot of those lately. Got the conflict with my mom addressed again to clarify, with some time to reflect. We've been having this shit going on where the problem is referred to as "a communication problem" or "a miscommunication" and that usually is like... a wink and nod at me like I'm not communicating well. It really created a complex in me for a very long time, because... you know... I'm a writer... and an artist... and a musician... Communication is kinda my thing. So it kinda has always felt like throwing me under the bus, because every one of these problems (at least with my mom) are because she is not communicating something that's bothering her, not communicating plans, making assumptions or making decisions on my behalf without my consent or consultation. Or because she doesn't understand what I'm communicating and she doesn't ask any questions to clarify. This is a problem I've had with others as well, I think it's a pride thing? But also an anxiety thing. And... it's really hard to know that it's a mental health issue... and to still be like... firm about it? Because otherwise I just get scapegoated, and that's just... extremely unhealthy.

So I think we got some really important stuff communicated, namely "do not change plans or make decisions or commitments on my behalf without consulting with me, just call or text me first." It's really painful to be a 36 year old and have this problem, which is like... a problem that teenagers and college students have... I guess I just picked the wrong career, huh...

I got the internet set up to transfer over to my new place. I'm in talks to see if I can just sell my old car to the dealership and trade it in for a lease of the car that I'm renting. I have no idea if I should even own a car, to be frank. I kinda need one for vet appointments and visiting family, but if it weren't for that... I'd be really tempted to just get a OneWheel and just ride that fucker around anytime I want to go somewhere. And I mean that! On one of the drives today, I remembered that there was a pivotal moment in my life when I was ready to buy a motorcycle. It was going to be my thing. I had already done a big solo road trip, I always wanted either an old Army WWII era Jeep (which I could learn how to fix and maintain) or a motorcycle. Maybe even both. But my mom somehow convinced me to get a service dog and an SUV.

I loved my dog with all my heart, she changed my life forever - though I really wish I never saw her as a service dog, just a best friend, it took us way too many years to get to that healthy relationship - but I always look back and wonder how different my life would be if I just took the money I had saved up from streaming... Didn't give the money to my ex to pay off her debt... But instead spent it on a motorcycle. Or that old Jeep. How different of a person would I be? Is that even a life I still want? I think so, honestly. Some version, at least.

As far as the car goes, all of the repairs I'm trying to just flat-out sell the car because of - I've been waiting a week for them to even order parts, they can't even order parts right now! - all that damage came from neglect. It came from the car just sitting in the driveway and not being driven for months, years. I feel horrible. I wish I just had goddamn friends to do things with and none of this would have happened. And I really worry that this new car is just going to suffer the same fate. It really sucks, because it's like... you have to pay money on gas to go drive this vehicle literally anywhere just to spare yourself paying more money in repairs. What a fucking black hole of money. Ugh. But I'm literally moving my entire life by myself and trying to take care of an elderly cat with health problems, so... I wasn't really prepared to go fucking car shopping. If I was prepared, I'd probably get an electric. Assuming you can charge those at home? I don't know enough about those things. But yeah, I'm kinda just caught off-guard and reacting to put these fires out. My mom suggested doing a lease, then I can just like... renegotiate it if I need to. I guess that makes sense. That's the plan we're running up currently.

I took a run up to the apartment. It took me like 2 hours to pack the car, I packed it literally to the fucking brim, like I could barely even fit food in the car, it was almost air-tight. I got up in good time, didn't need to use GPS or anything. I got it all unloaded in less than 40 minutes. That's including getting a new litterbox set up in a closet and exploring what I'm dubbing the "art cave". Check this shit out. My new apartment is a loft, so its got a big common room, a staircase going up to the bedroom and in the wall at the top of the stairs is a hatch that goes into a big carpeted storage space. But this storage space is like... big enough to stand up in. And it has a light in it! So, my plan... back in college, I had a wall in my apartment that I covered in paper and I had it as basically a graffiti/mural wall that anyone who came over could draw on. I want to either do that with this space and turn it into an art cave, or try to soundproof it and turn it into a recording booth. Either way, I'm really excited to play around with that space.

I drove back, the drive went super quick. Got Taco Bell on the way back, super underwhelming. I was considering just doing the last bit tonight, making a grand total of about 8 hours of driving, but I decided to just do it in the morning. I figured it wouldn't really be fair to Max to spend like an hour packing and then put her in a crate, drive her 2.5 hours and then bring her into a brand new home at like... 1:30AM. That doesn't give her a lot of time to get acquainted with the space with me. Because I'm just going to give her her meds and pass out. So I decided to do it tomorrow, and then we can have the day to pack slowly and settle in to the new place together.

The only other thing that happened today was soaking a goat skull. That's a sentence you don't hear everyday... I'll keep this story brief if you haven't heard it before, but last summer a woman contacted me on a dating site. I had it listed on my profile that I was looking to get into more 3D mediums this year - wood, stone and bone. She said she lived on a farm in a rural area nearby and offered some bones, if I was interested. I was shocked that anyone even wanted to speak to me, this was literally a week after I put my dog down... so I just was glad to have the company. We FaceTimed for like 10 hours, told stories, bonded. Then she offered to bring some bones over and hang out the next day. I said sure. She showed up and pulled 2 5 gallon buckets full of goat bones in varying stages of decomposition out of her car and gave them to me. I was so overwhelmed with the social interest that I didn't even process what I was getting into. And now, almost 6 months later, I still have a box full of goat bones in my living room. They're too thin to work with, at least the stuff I know how to do. And I honestly just don't know their story, which makes me feel uncomfortable. I've handled dead animals before - I've had to dispose of rabbits that foxes have mangled, and a disembodied deer leg, and a dead red-tailed hawk that snapped its neck and died in my yard. These were all very solemn, respectful events. I knew what happened, I treated them honorably and it was done. But these, I just get a weird vibe from these. I can't put my finger on it. I feel bad, because I would really love to honor these animals, there's just a mental barrier there for some reason.

Today... I tried to push through the barrier, and somewhat succeeded. There were two skulls included in the bone pile. One was a bit rotted on the bottom, the other was cracked around the nasal cavity (those bones are always super fragile) but seemed to not be decomposed. It's pretty large. I was planning on carving either a mandala or just... sorta intuitive abstract designs into it, and either using it as an ornamental piece or, if I can figure out a good way to do it, an incense burner. But I'm still a little weirded out by it. And again, I can't really figure out why. Maybe it's just the memory associated with it? Maybe because it was like... a domesticated animal and not a wild animal? Like if this was a deer skull I don't think I would have these feelings at all. I don't know. Welp, either way, it's out soaking on the porch overnight, to clean it up and decontaminate anything that might be lingering on it. We'll see if this feeling passes and I feel okay carving it. Either way, I'm going to have to figure out how to get rid of these bones in a not sketchy and respectful way. I was thinking of contacting animal control and telling them the story, I bet they know what to do with animal bones. We'll see, I have some time to figure that out.

Right now, it's late so I need to go get my kitty her meds and get ready for bed. Next journal entry will be from my new place. Assuming the internet works... Fingers crossed!

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of consciousness #stream of thoughts

0 notes

heli0s-writes · 3 years

Text

lights up*

A/N: Stucky (primarily Steve)/Reader. 2k words of idkwhatthisisi’msorry. There was a prompt from six months ago that I wrote this for but I lost the message and I can’t remember! All mistakes are my own, please stop reading if you are not 18+

brooklyn after dark masterlist

You wake up in scattered shock.

Knee-jerk reaction to fast hands sliding between your thighs, fingers carelessly ticking sensitive skin.

You wake up to a groggy voice, slurred with sleep and raspy-raw.

“Baby,” it croaks from between your legs, “Honey, sweetheart, sugar. Please, please, please let me eat your pussy.”

Wha—

A few disbelieving blinks as you scrabble for your bearings—can’t see shit—still dark—head throbbing.

“Oh god, I wanna sosososo bad,” and then hands are between your knees, spreading your legs apart. “So… damn... tasty. Uh-huh… Come to daddy.”

Who the fuck is—damn it, Bucky.

In the dead hour of four-something when nothing should be moving so intentionally, an unsteady moan tumbles out of him when he starts groping for your ass.

“Buck!” You whisper, kicking your leg to shake him off. Grabbing the covers with one hand, you reach under with the other, swatting his head and trying to get a firm hold on him. Slippery fucking man.

He pauses for a second before his body goes limp, half hanging off the foot of the bed and you groan at his weight. Idiot boy. Two hundred pounds of horny somnambulist dropping like an anchor on your poor legs.

Fiddling now with how to get him back up to his regular spot, you try to do it quietly, the warmth radiating next to your left shoulder a compelling incentive. Even with your wits barely about you, you know better than to wake—

“Whassit? Whas goin’ on?”

Steve. Ah.

“Nothing,” you sigh, reaching over and stroking his arm absently, one foot tapping against Bucky’s waist to urge him upward. “He’s just sleep-talking again.”

Steve makes a groggy noise of comprehension. “Sleep-talking or sleep-fucking?”

“Just sleeping now. Ugh… didn’t mean to wake you.”

He’d come in late again—meetings and paperwork keeping him well after hours. Not even able to do it from home, which would have been nice. At least here you could make sure he was eating, or drinking enough water, or at least be in the presence of good company.

Instead, you and Buck watched a movie, took a few rounds of shots (because he likes the taste and how you look dancing all over the coffee table), fooled around in the kitchen, and turned in around two—Steve nowhere in sight. Some jobs were Captain-Only, which meant you’d have to make peace with being useless.

That’s generally not a task that goes over well. The amount of untamed energy Bucky exudes without Steve’s guidance is… close to being categorized as a natural disaster and trying to stay up with him is always a double-edged sword. Lots of fun, sure, but he requires less sleep than you do and can finagle you into getting piss drunk with a single smirk.

“Wish you’d been more responsible.” Bone-tired and Steve’s still bossy. His arm is heavy as it snakes over your tummy. “You know he needs direction.”

“Hey, I tried.”

“Issat right? That why your panties’re on the counter? Shirt in the sink, too. Come home close to four and still gotta clean up after the two of you.”

His raspy breath tickles, plump lips crushed just below your ear—enough to start a chain reaction of shudders.

“Go back to sleep,” you huff, embarrassed. It was only a few hours ago so your head’s still a bit fuzzy—vague memory of playful touches before hearing, hop up, baby, from Bucky. And you, tittering and zealous the whole way, kissing him like he’d never been kissed before.

YouTube blinking on the T.V., stuck on some ad because the streaming’s a snail’s pace from when Steve set up the internet and tried to pinch pennies at the same time. Bucky’s specially crafted “Wine, Dine, and Sixty-Nine” playlist refusing to load even half a song afterwards so neither of you could spare your neighbors from hearing all the noises.

Hopefully the laughter was loudest, and not the primal fucking, or the crashing when you slipped off the counter and knocked Bucky on his ass.

You giggle at that. Years and years together and some nights still feel brand new.

“Have fun without me?”

There’s no real jealousy in Steve’s voice, but there is greed behind the question. A single night away and he acts like he’s never been kissed either.

Your eyes start fluttering when his fingers curl around your hipbone. Je-sus. Hell. It’s too late—early—for this.

You grumble his name, asking him to save it for a couple more hours when your brain doesn’t feel pried free, but, Captain-Only mode activated and he’s not deterred. A bloodhound on a fresh trail.

The hand on your hip turns inward and you’re suddenly aware of him pressed against your body, that hot line of him, pulsing on your upper thigh. He tilts forward, one knee rubbing up your leg. Bucky stirs a little and makes another declaration about how he’s fit for the CEO position of Eating Your Ass, but nothing more after that.

“He do you good?” Steve wonders, apparently not giving a fuck about whether Bucky’s dead or alive down there and instead only worried about repositioning you, rolling you on your side, “That why you’re so happy to get me out of the house? So you two can fool around unchecked as much as you want?”

“Steve, you know damn well—"

His hand slips around the side of your neck, four thick fingers drumming over the ridges of your throat. “Watch your mouth,” he whispers, “before you get yourself into any more trouble.”

He gets mean without enough sleep. And no one would ever guess, but other than working over some poor punching bag that’ll never see the light of day after he gets his hands on it, Captain America likes to fuck it out. You and Buck have properly come out of a few sessions barely alive, feeling like two ends of a slinky that’s taken one too many tumbles down a flight of stairs.

You squirm as he palms your bottom with his free hand, kneading the bare flesh a flimsy pair of sleeping shorts can’t cover.

“Gotta be quiet,” he tells you gently, “Can’t wake him, can we.” Christ help you. What a time to play a game. You mumble under your breath, “Do I have a choice?”

A prod at your already sore entrance, and Steve says, annoyingly convinced, “I think you’ve already made your choice.”

He stills for a second when Bucky flops around on the mattress and then he starts pressing his mouth to your back, your shoulder, other hand holding you steady with expertise. It’s Steve’s favorite position when he wants to be in charge—you, writhing and turned away, usually leaned about 50 degrees and pawing at Bucky’s chest—this morning, feebly snatching sheets instead.

It doesn’t take any buildup. He’s achingly ready; you’re willingly wet. Clothes moved just enough out of the way and his two fingers slide upward, pushing barely to spread you before he quickly replaces it with something much thicker. It’s only been a few seconds. He’s too fast for you to get a word in edgewise, your brain still muddled, body cooperative.

“Huh,” Steve mumbles, slowly feeling his way into position, “A bit fucked loose, aren’t you?”

“Steve,” you hiss in reply, clenching up reflexively the same time mortification bursts across your scrunched- up face. “Don’t say that.”

“Hush, baby.”

“I’m trying—”

“Try harder.” And he’s evil incarnate, you swear. Satan himself packaged up in the neat body of a demigod. He rolls his hips slowly until the tops of his thighs are pressed against your ass, fingers holding so tight you think he’s going to spear right into bone. “Stay still or you’re gonna knee Buck in the cheek.”

You twist your head around, instead, shaking your chin free from his hand, hoping that once he sees your pitiful expression, he’ll find it in his heart to maybe not pound you into oblivion with bells on.

Of course, Steve’s not looking anywhere but down the line of your back and further to where he’s opening you up, bottom lip tucked into his teeth.

You constantly rib him about how he’s making up for all the years he spent with the two working eyes of a mole so now he’ll break his neck to watch. Bucky’s confirmed it multiple times to Steve’s chagrin, cackling at the way Steve goes purple defending himself. You love the stories they tell and retell; you try to spend most your time making up for all those years you weren’t there to find out.

Who isn’t in this relationship? Violently horny like teenagers, the three of you, spending every idle hour mishandling for each other like it’s the first time. Excitement primeval like animals in heat, apparently instinctual enough for one of you to do it in his sleep. Years and years and it still feels brand new.

The bed’s rocking surprisingly moderately for Steve’s usual pace, and it’s a bit heartwarming to know that he’s doing it because he really doesn’t want to wake Bucky, but he ramps up his game. He starts whispering again, meaner, hotter, the damn mouth on Steve Rogers continuing to give you hell this early morning.

He pinches your nipple hard, letting you gasp at the brief sting before he goes back up to your chin, your mouth, and then he puts the entire hand over it.

“Quiet. Not another fucking word out of you. Gotta teach you how to behave this morning, don’t I?” He’s working himself up, working you over, even pulling you back on him by the hips and then wiggling you up and down on him like he’s adjusting you on a saddle. Motherfucker.

Your toes curl, knees grinding, legs folding up to get simultaneously closer and away from him and it feels—it feels so excruciatingly good—the effortless glide of his cock, the burn of friction dragging itself out the more you wriggle. Whatever indelicate sounds falling out of your mouth are getting mashed back in, Steve ramming himself into your body, shaking your brain further loose.

He’s probably louder than he intends to be—you know how he gets when he’s close— bombs could be dropping two feet away and Steve Rogers would hear nothing but the roar of his own wanting, chasing it until he crashes into bits. You’re chasing too, both hands clamped around his wrist, arching your back to near breaking.

“Yeah,” he rasps out, “That’s it, that’s good, baby. Ugnn—back up on me, stay—right there.”

More uneven jerking, he releases your face and starts rubbing your clit, saying, you like it like this? Like me givin’ it to you good like this? And you’re shaking in his arms, the both of you tipping over the edge.

“I wasn’t serious,” Steve says later after a few moments, lips all soft and gentle on your neck, rather than fierce like before, “Bout you bein’—” you can feel him shrugging, “Y’know… fucked loose.” He whispers the last part like it’s a sin.

You snort, “You turning decent on me? After railing me to death?”

“You sound pretty lively to me.” He pokes your side, “I just… woke up and remembered how much I missed you last night.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got both of us here—shit!”

“Steeeeeve,” and the sound of it slaps both you back to reality. Sleep-smashed, more tipsy than any alcohol could make him, Bucky’s giggles break the steady pattern of muffled conversation. His vibranium hand pats around for a new destination, undeterred by the disruption of his previous mission.

You can’t believe it. He’s still asleep.

“Steeeevie,” Bucky mewls again, “Lemme— lemme suck your dick, sweetheart.”

What a menace. Your shoulders start quivering as you poorly hold it back, pfffftppblffpt’s kickstarting Steve into a tizzy right alongside you.

Bursting laughter finally wakes him up. Bucky yelps once, twice, flailing like a cat caught unawares and rolls himself right off the goddamn bed.

Two hundred pounds of newly conscious pervert wallops the hardwood floor and you’re sure the entire apartment complex—if they didn’t hear the ruckus last night—certainly heard it this morning.

#marvel #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #smut #marvel smut #reader insert #mcu

1K notes · View notes

theslowesthnery · 3 years

Text

alright, let me show you guys some perfectly Normal and Moral people from one (!) of the callout posts about me

may i remind you, this is all over some damn drawings of a baby minotaur drawing with chalk

above, people who are really telling on themselves by seeing something uncomfortable and suspicious in art that is just...not

you know what the “context” of the art is? sometimes i think “hmm, i wonder what my fave character looked like as a child? omg i wanna draw that”. i did it when i was in the naruto fandom, and i did it when i was in the undertale fandom. and especially in the case of asterius whose life was Fucking Garbage and who never had a chance at a good, happy life, i wanted to imagine what his childhood might’ve been like, if maybe he had at least some happy childhood moments, if maybe there was someone who loved him before it all went to shit (and also since he’s so big, i thought the idea of him having been a tiny babbu was fuckin’ adorable). also, kids put stuff in their mouth, animals put stuff in their mouth, so i figured a human/animal hybrid baby would try to taste stuff they’re unfamiliar with even more so. there’s your “gross” and “horrible” context. and you’re seeing sexualization in that. that’s literally all you, all in your own brains. your minds are so hopelessly fucking warped that it would be sad if you weren’t insistent on treating other people like shit because *you* saw something sexual in an entirely sfw, non-sexual, pure and wholesome drawings of a child doing child things

as someone with no interest in children, fictional or real, i find it immensely concerning that your mind jumps into imagining child rape with such ease, requiring literally no prompting. that is creepier and more concerning than anything i could ever draw

the usual from the Normal and Moral crowd

god do you guys have any idea what it’s like for someone with very bad self-esteem problems to see people who hate their guts and want them dead go “noooo why is their art so good”

pictured, me rolling in this validation like

“pedophilic ships”?? mf where? words just don’t mean anything to you guys anymore, do they

also cute hadesgame-related user name! thanatos and zagreus are adopted brothers, achilles and patroclus are cousins, and hades married his cousin’s daughter! you’re supporting a game with incest in it, based on greek myths that have even more incest in them!

here’s your award for the dumbest goddamn take i have legit ever seen 🏆

huh, here i thought it was about protecting minors 🤔🤔🤔 (just kidding, i’ve never seen a single anti say deny that it’s about the harassment)

now why wouldn’t i want people like the previous person or the people a couple of screenshots up who are wishing for my death or the anon telling me that *checks notes* they hope my firstborn is raped and has their genitals sliced off interacting with me 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔 certainly seems sus

there’s a pandemic and some people are disabled, karen

imagine seeing a drawing made by someone who you think is a pedophile and going “i’m gonna trace and repost that :)” head empty, no values or morals, only thirst for clout

i haven’t drawn porn in like. two or three whole years

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN AND EVERYONE ELSE, IT’S TIME FOR SUS CHALK

hey, a familiar face! thing is, i never said i don’t want to incest shippers to interact me, what i said was that i don’t want my non-incest drawings of siblings be tagged as incest, because A) it makes me super uncomfortable, and B) it leads to people like *gestures to the entire post* to send me death threats for being a disgusting fontcest shipper when all i drew was brotherly pictures of skelebros. idgaf what people ship lmao, i just don’t want my art tagged incorrectly and to be harassed because of it. also i’ve been open and vocal about being proship for literal years

“oh i know them, they shipped [ship i have literally never shipped and which i am uncomfortable enough with to blacklist]” yeah you sure know me lmao

oh no, not an A-A-A-ADULT 😱😱😱 guess who else is an adult? toby fox, and everyone who worked on not only undertale but every single piece of entertainment you’re consuming. this site? made by adults. the internet? made by adults. the person who created that callout post? adult. and so will you be, too, and there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it

awww hell yeah, i officially have a Proship Artstyle™ that makes antis uncomfortable 🤘

i have no idea what this person is trying to say ngl. is...being thirsty for asterius (have you seen him?) and liking theseus bad and cause of suspicion now? well shit, i have some very bad news for A LOT of people in the hades fandom

do you guys like...not understand the difference between children and adults? just because an adult is romantically or sexually interested in another adult does not mean they would fuck the child version of that person. if a person sees a photo of their crush or significant other as a child and goes “aw, cute”, does that make them a pedophile in your book?

i was here first, bud, you leave if you hate it here so much

i don’t even want to know what’s going on in the reblogs of that post. all this over a drawing of a baby minotaur playing with chalk

remember when being a pedophile required a sexual attraction to children? not anymore, these days pedophile is literally just anything and anyone you don’t like, and you don’t need any evidence to call people that! the more you know!

mmmm look at alllll that delicious ageism. i’ll never stop being amused by kids who think repeating information about myself i’ve freely chosen to display on my very public bio is some kinda “gotcha”. newsflash, buttercups - you too will be 30 and over one day. you’re not immune to aging, but sure, keep shitting in the pool you’ll eventually all be swimming. unless, of course, you’ve already decided to be absolutely miserable and joyless once you hit 30, to which all i can say is “couldn’t be me 💅“

also if you hate people over 30 so much, put your money where your mouths are and stop consuming content made by people over thirty. and i don’t mean just fan content, i mean everything: music, movies, comics, video games, cartoons, everything that was made by those gross 30+ year olds. create your own content, your own sites (ao3 is explicitly anti-censorship and anti-harassment, in other words pro-shipping and pro-fiction, so you guys better not be reading or posting any fics there), your own shows and games, see how that works out

#fandom discourse cw #anti discourse cw #and all the things that come with it #long post #(under readmore tho)

448 notes · View notes

nat-20s · 3 years

Text

Part 5 of Wonderful! Au. *boyband voice* banter’s back alright!

Also on AO3

~*~

Jon: Hello everyone, and welcome back to our regular format. If my husband being horribly soppy-

Martin:-hey!-

Jon: -turned you off the how, this should be a refreshing return to formula, though I can’t guarantee there won’t be further horrible soppiness-

Martin, performatively under his breath: -most people thought it was charming-

Jon: -as that tends to happen when one is recording with the love of their life. If last week’s episode is the only one that you like, too bad, I’m back in full form, and should be at least through the rest of the season.

Martin: This show doesn’t have seasons? Due to the whole lack of a narrative thing?

Jon: I was referring to spring.

Martin: Oh, right.

[A beat passes.]

Martin, flatly: Oh. Great goof hon.

Jon, smug: Thank you.

Jon, sincere: Also, before we get properly started, I did want to actually thank everyone who sent well wishes.

M artin: Yes! We got positively inundated with lovely messages, it definitely brightened both of our days. I would even say it was wonderful.

[Jon groans.]

Jon: I am..not proud of the energy we’ve created for this episode so far, and we haven’t even hit the small wonders. Speaking of, do you have a small wonder this week?

Martin: Mine’s bad action movies.

Jon: Really? I had no idea you even liked them, let alone consider them wonderful.

Martin: Okay, so, saying I like them is a bit of a misnomer? It’s more that I like what they can do more than the movies themselves?

Jon: Elaborate?

Martin: It probably comes as a surprise to no one that I’ve tried my hand at a fair amount of mindfulness and mediation techniques. I’ve found poetry and journaling have been helpful for actually processing life events and whatnot, but when it comes to giving your brain a hard wipe and reset, nothing is half as quick and effective as a shitty shoot-em-up. Somethings about 2 hours of cartoonish, pg-13 violence held together with the absolute loosest of plots brings me to a state of mental blankness that would make a monk jealous.

Jon: How have I never witnessed you doing this? When are you sneaking off to go see Micheal Tarantino or who ever films?

M artin: That’s definitely not the right name.

Jon: Martin, dear, I don’t care. And you’re dodging the question.

Martin, fond: I’m not dodging anything. Since apparently we’re getting into it, you haven’t caught me cavorting with a movie involving more explosions than character development lately because I haven’t been. Haven’t needed it, in recent years. Turns out when you’re not crushingly lonely and working a literal nightmare of job, there’s less of a drive to try and escape your own thoughts. Shocker, I know. Still, to anyone out there that feels like their brain is on fire, go try watching a fast and furious. Any of ‘em, it doesn’t matter. Or even better, Chronicles of Riddick. I can’t remember a single goddamn detail of that movie, which makes it perfect for what I’m talking about.

Jon: I have the strong feeling that th is is a “mileage may vary” scenario.

Martin: Well, yeah, that’s this whole podcast. Plus, I imagine that movies like this would cause more stress to someone who cares about, say, world-building or rules consistency.

Jon: I wonder who you could possibly be referring to.

Martin: It’s a purely hypothetical person, love, don’t worry about it. Any small wonders?

Jon: Yes! Particularly relevant to the last week, my small wonder is stripping the sheets from your bed when it’s been too long between washes.

Martin: How very specific. M ost people would just say ‘clean sheets’.

Jon: Well, for one, I’m fairly certain that we’ve already covered clean sheets-

Martin: Shit, have we? Thank god other people keep track of this, otherwise this show would be unbearably repetitive.

Jon: Christ, yes. I typically check the website a good three times while prepping, and every about one out of those three times I find I’m trying to do an topic we did 30 episodes again. Anyway, um, it’s just nice, I think. When you’ve been too busy or sick or away for awhile, tossing the sheets in the wash makes a room instantly seem nicer. Of all the chores out there, this one, at least for me, has the highest reward to effort ratio.

Martin: Hard agree. Especially when the y have that slight funk of having been around to long, getting rid of that is such a relief. Speaking of, we need to change our sheets soon.

Jon: We can do it after the episode. Who goes first this week?

Martin: Considering last week was only me talking, I’m gonna say it’s you.

Jon: Alright, then. My first thing this week is Martin K. Blackwood.

Martin: Absolutely not!

Jon: Oh, you can do a whole episode on me, but I can’t do one little segment on my husband, whom I love very dearly?

Martin: Not while I’m sat here, no!

Jon: So you’re saying you don’t want me to tell the internet that your resolve to be kind even in the face of indescribable cruelty is one of the mot breathtaking things I’ve ever witnessed, or how I find it incredibly endearing when you get so emotional that your voice comes out as a squeak, or even that, on a more base level, you’re very physically attractive, and I could lose entire days thinking about your arms alone?

Martin, audibly blushing, voice the aforementioned squeak: Oh my god, Jon!

Jon, laughing: Then it’s probably for the best that my actual first thing is best friends.

Martin, peaking the audio levels: Oh you absolute bastard! Do you enjoy this? Do you get some sort of perverse sense of entertainment from riling me up?

Jon: Oh, don’t you start. As if you’re not as bad as I am. Maybe even worse.

Martin: That’s not…

Jon: Yes?

Martin: Okay. Maybe it’s slightly true. Really, what is romance for if not flustering your partner with compliments?

Jon, teasing: I certainly can’t think of anything.

Martin: Hush, you.

Jon: No, I don’t think I will.

Martin: Fine. I suppose you can tell our delightful audience about the power of friendship or whatever.

Jon: I would’ve assumed more enthusiasm, considering this segment is still, indirectly, about you.

Martin: In what way?

Jon: In the way that, to the shock of all, you’re my best friend.

Martin, pleased: Oh, is that what I am?

Jon, exasperated: Yes, dearest husband, I wouldn’t have married you otherwise. Though, upon reflection, I knew you were my best friend before I knew I held romantic feelings for you.

Martin: When was that?

Jon, letting out a breath that vibrates his lips: God it was...2016? I think it might’ve literally been the day after you told me about your CV.

Martin: That early? Huh. I wonder if that’s what people were picking up when they said they we were close.

Jon: What people?

Martin: I don’t know specifically, that’s just what Daisy told me.

Jon: Daisy? When the hell-?

Martin: It...was when she was interrogating me? And, because sometimes I have to be a parody of myself, pretty much my only take away from that interrogation was “people think me and Jon are close”.

Jon: Well then. It’s not like they were wrong.

Martin, smug: No, no they weren’t.

Martin, sincere: And you’re my best friend, too.

Jon: I was certainly hoping that you’re in this relationship for more than my good looks and incredible fortune, both in the monetary and luck sense.

Martin: You say that as if you aren’t good looking, which we all know is patently untrue.

Jon: You’re biased. You’d say I was good looking if I were nothing more than some primordial ooze with thoughts about its station.

Martin: I’m being completely objective. If you were primordial ooze with thoughts above its station, you’d be the cutest ooze of them all. That’s just scientific fact.

Jon: I’m starting to think we might be insufferable.

Martin: Starting to? Might be?

Jon:…

[Jon clears his throat]

Jon: What I find wonderful about the concept of best friends is, to me, they’re the closest thing real life has to soulmates. I don’t personally believe that there’s some..grand mystic force that drives people to be tied together in the manner that narrative typical soulmates are, and if there was I don’t think it would necessarily be the kind of emotional, heartfelt bond one would hope for, but I do believe that there’s individuals that get to know one another, and because of that knowledge, they chose to stick with one another. It doesn’t have to be a romantic, which is why I say best friend rather than specifically ‘spouse’, but I would argue that the basis of a strong romance like you and I have, is very much rooted in that connection. A true best friendship is an equal partnership, and there’s a sense of..matched sensibilities and understanding that can be utterly incandescent when it happens.

I also think that having one or more best friends makes living life on a day to day basis both better and just flat easier. The dark times aren’t as dark, and the bright times shine even more. I know from my own personal experience there are events that I..that I don’t know how I would’ve made it through without you. Hell, last week my..recovery period would’ve taken much longer if you hadn’t been there.

It’s an amazing thing to have someone to share things with, both triumphs and burdens. Um, also, according to Dictionary.com, the term best friends in English has been around since the 1200s. Something about that delights me, like, yes, we’ve had this casual way of referring to a Favorite Person for roughly 800 years. That makes it a hold-out from early Middle English. I dunno, it’s one of those things that make me feel overall very charmed by humanity.

Martin, audibly smiling: No, yeah, hard agree.

Jon: What’s that look for?

Martin: Nothing. Just. I love you a whole lot, you know that?

Jon, voice soft: I may have heard you say that once or twice. Per hour.

Martin: Only that often? I really need to be more diligent about that.

[There’s a bet of silence, presumably where they’re making doe eyes at each other.]

Jon: What’s your first thing?

Martin: Oh, um, right. Rats!

Jon: The expression or the animal?

Martin: Jon, have you ever once heard me say “rats” as an expression? Obviously I’m referring to the animal.

Jon: Ah. Should’ve known, considering that what, a third?, of all your segments have been on animals.

Martin: Yeah? And? You got a problem with critters? With creatures? With lil guys?

Jon, laughing: No, no, it’s very sweet. I’m just surprised you never became a vet.

Martin: Oh believe me, I wanted to. But then I learned that it was not, in fact, a job composed entirely of getting paid to play with other people’s pets.

Jon: You had that job, though, didn’t you? I thought I remembered you mentioning a month long stint at a doggie day care.

Martin, sighing dreamily: Best job I ever had. Too bad that place was shut down after it was revealed to be a money laundering front.

Jon: Good lord.

Jon: Martin did you...did you know it was a money laundering front at the time?

Martin:

Martin: Would it make you feel better if I said no?

Jon: Martin!

Martin: I figured it out like a week in, but, like, who cares? The pay was decent and the floor was super easy to clean, which is very much a plus for even a front of a doggie day care.

Jon: That’s...rather a lot. How about instead of getting into that any further, you tell me about rodents.

Martin: I would love to. But first, we have a shoutout!

Jon: Ooo, a shoutout. Does it specify who should read?

Martin: Let me check. It...does...not…..

...

Jon: Martin?

[A beat.]

Martin: Right! Sorry, um. This week’s shoutout is from Tim, to Danny. It says, “Danny! My favorite person who shares genetic material with me! I wanted to say thank you for your podcast obsession from 4 months ago, and specifically for telling me about these marrieds. They’ve gotten me through many a dull hour at the publishing house. Also, with this shoutout, I’ve officially gotten ahead on the Superior [Last Name Redacted] Brother scoreboard, so suck it. Love you lots, and looking forward to your visit next month, Tim.”

Jon: Oh.

Jon: Um. That’s very..sweet? I think? Mostly?

Martin: Yeah, I’d say so. Uh. We have to take a quick break because, uh, someone is..at our front door! Be back with you all in, from your side of things, just a moment.

#wonderful! au #jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #>:3 #shoutouts are their versions of jumbotrons btw

196 notes · View notes

lazycheesecakeee · 3 years

Text

Stray kids as love languages

Ok so I started thinking and that’s never good and somehow this got CHUNKY AF :))) But I hope you enjoy reading my messy thoughts about skz expressing love :)

Bang Chan

Giving: Gifts/Words of affirmation

Yeah SO… we all know how he always seems to always give the closest people to him, like everything, including the moon and a fucking rocket to the moon as well, and build it too, that before he gets anything at all? He is definitely a giver. He buys food, drinks, anything.

Anything you would accomplish, no matter how small would be an excuse for him to go out and buy you a meal and while you are there, if you only happen to glance at something twice, you already have it? Yeah you might feel bad and try to pay or say “stop giving me things all the time” but he would not stop and he would buy you the thing and shower you with praises for how well you did, even if you think it is not such a big deal.

You have a normal day when nothing happened? You go to the store together, he pays. He comes to visit you randomly. On the way he buys a flower and a random chocolate or a drink because he remembers somehow that you said you wanted to try it like 3 months ago. And the list never ends. He has a good sense for what people want too. So if you are close to him he gives you EVERYTHING. Showers of praises and all of his fucking money :)))) BOY HAS NO LIMITS.

Receiving: words of affirmation

Listennnn, as much as he gives and never stops, like NEVER. (Take his credit card away lmaoooo), when you acknowledge his little appreciations and thank him sweetly or give him a hug to let him know you are grateful, he gets immense satisfaction. I feel like he is the one to give but if he feels like he is used in the slightest he definetly cuts the rope short real FUCKING FAST.

I feel like he def is SUCH a sucker for appreciation and words of affirmation AND COMPLIMETS. He wants to feel needed and like his efforts are worth it. And giving him the verbal queue that his efforts don’t go unnoticed, that despite his busy schedule you appreciate the time with him, that his hard work and struggles to be the best are worth it, that the nights in the studio are fruitful and he is doing a good job, THAT would really make his entire day and his anxieties dissipate. Let him know he is wanted. Poor baby someone give him a sleep schedule too and some melatonin :)))))

Lee Know/Minho

Giving: Acts of service

He def strikes as one weird cranky, moody, annoying bitch with his behaviour but if you pay closer attention he is actually so observant and thoughtful/caring. He seems like you would not want to go to him for things but I actually think that if you take the time and grow close to him he is one of the most caring and protective people tbh.

Like it’s in his nature to pay attention to what close ones are doing, their schedules, interests and habits. He is the kind of person to never purposefully say or make a fuss out of doing something but somehow he knows you need something or you want something. And he buys the thing and puts it in the fridge. Or changes the sheets because he feels you are too sad and unmotivated and that would be good. Or buys something definitely because “he wanted it” but gets more, and a side of the thing you like a lot, because “it was there”, definitely not because he thought of you and that it would bring you joy. Or he would like pick a prescription for you or refill your water bottle before leaving or tell you to bring band-aids because you complained those shoes hurt you. Or tell me this boy would not chop the onions for the pasta sauce so you don’t ruin your mascara (I am not sobbing you are). And he somehow fits himself in and things add up so well and your life is so much easier despite him claiming he „did nothing”.

Receiving: Words of affirmation

Although it doesn’t seem like it, something tells me it’s true. I read on an internet thing that people that seem cold and don’t want/seem to have the need for verbal affirmation and validation from strangers get actually more satisfaction from it than people who say it explicitly.

He also def strikes me like he was raised to be tough, to recover fast, to not be a cry baby and just get up and do the job, suck it up, be strong and independent. A little bit of trust issues into the mix as well ☹ You can actually kinda see a sort of anxious behaviour type of thing in him. So I feel like if you actually grow closer to him (ahem Jisung), acknowledging his efforts and how he makes your life easier, THAT would bring out the asshole being like “oh really? Hm interesting you think I do so much for you huh?” but he actually does thooo and you saying it would bring him like so much joy and make his heart happy.

Like each time you give him a compliment TM he would act like “yeah I know” or act disgusted but high key it soothes his spirit and ego when you say such things. He just loooves to hear how much you loved something he cooked or how attractive he was while dancing or how he was really thoughtful, and you appreciate it sm. He seems to have the nature to give, and he seems to expect to go unnoticed but when and if you do acknowledge his heart is actually swooning over it.

Changbin

Giving: Physical touch/Gifts

I think he would be the type to bring weird things to you for no reason along with 1000 kisses and a hug that is a bit too tight you know? Like his mind gets occupied with you if you are close.

And like he saw this weird card at the store or a little figurine or something which has a weird patters and he thought “Hm they must see this. They would like this strange ass thing I bought which was overpriced”. And when he gives you the thing you give like an odd smile and in your eyes is a „love you but wtf is this” and he would take your hands and look down and kiss them and say “I don’t know i thought you might like it?” And you would tease each other and he would start doing ayego and get really shy and just hug you again and place his head in your neck to avoid the eye contact, then lift you up and spin you and from there you have no chances of escaping the embrace TM.

Receiving: Physical touch

I feel like he would be a sucker for physical touch as your love language as well. If you reciprocate hugs, kisses and stuff. You know he seems like the kind to find comfort in holding you for no reason, like a hand on the knee or on your waist and if you two are comfy and give him little pets, stroke his hair, place your hand on his shoulder or biceps or take his hand with both yours or grab his middle randomly, he would swoon. Also you clinging to him and letting him cling to you I think is like thing he wishes for most tbh:) I feel like he feels safety and love by holding onto you and you onto him like he can protect you. He would like to know you trust him with that, ya know? Like he is a strong bitch ready to fight anyone coming at you and can protect you but is also your smol koala child which you can never escape.

Hyunjin

Giving: physical touch

Now this might seem weird to you BUT. He seems like he touches people out of nowhere sometimes and kinda clings. Not like all the time but enough. Like he likes being really close to you if he is close to you, you know?. He would be all up in your face with his weird ass mannerisms and humour but if they are reciprocated and he feels safe and good around you he naturally starts to cling if that makes sense? Like in a way a sort of telling others: “mine, you cannot have them before me” but also in the sense that you know he would do anything for you if you ask in those instances. Like YO, you have me, soul and body next to you, I am here :)))

Like he doesn’t seem like the type to buy things a lot (cheap ass I see you :)))) although he would sometimes) But he makes up by being there and encouraging you despite not knowing how to act or what to say all the time, he lets you know you can count on him and he is there. I feel like his touch expresses appreciation.

Receiving: words of affirmation/quality time

He strikes me as attention demanding lmao:)) OH I am yours pay attention to me I am your baby I require love and affection, undivided.

So if you make time to have lunch with him or have conversations before bed in peace (my dude seems like his thoughts overwhelm him all the time and honestly same :/ it’s kinda yikes tbh), or watch a movie/tv show, or just be in his presence when he is both excited or down, and listen to him rant and give him solutions or rant with him about random subjects and jumping around between them subjects, you would get all the uwus and he would probably be ready to dedicate his entire existence to your well being and desires.

He is just like that, a dramatic ass with overly changing emotions who wants a good connection, like a genuine one, where hours go by and someone truly understands him and things flow, ya know? (seems like the type to believe in fate type of love, which I find interesting)

Han Jisung

Giving: Physical touch/ Words of affirmation

He seems really touchyyyyy TM. But like in the way that shows physical affection because he seems a little insecure? That is kinda what he strikes me as. Like he wants to hold you. He wants to show you have him. He wants to be appreciated :( my child (and bias) help me I am sobbing:))) and he wants to make sure you know he appreciates you just as much.

Like he would hold your hand, hug you a lot or place random kisses and linger in those places? An he would compliment you and tell you your work is amazing and that he is proud and he would make lots of idiotic jokes to cheer you up, no matter the mood (we stan crackhead humour in this household) and he would tell you the most random shit he likes about you. Like “I like your socks” or “you changed your bag” or “the perfume is oddly floral just like your shirt and I like it”.

And he would make random short freestyle raps (kill me now I am in too deep) about you or a random thing you are doing. And he would just linger around you when you are busy and can’t give him attention. He wants to show trust and love through little gestures and trusts you to see them as a sign of his love because you make him happy and all.

Receiving: ALSO Physical touch/words of affirmation idk

I feel like he would like physical touch back? Like he would be fine if you didn’t like it, but like since he is like anxious and (to me) seems like a little overly aware of his “flaws and deficiencies”, he would like to know he has your “hold”. Like some sort of security type of thing.

Like small gestures, your hand on him, a little kiss, a hug, a squish :))), a little grip of reassurance and a nod of “you are doing good”. I think he would be a sucker for that. And also despite him lowkey rejecting your compliments like “yeah I know I am the best”, giving it to him would boost his self-esteem a lot, as I think he has many insecurities and quite a few complexes that are hard to express for him. So that, along with your touch and words to reassure him, he would love and get the idea that you want him close too, that he’s desired enough for you to seek his love, something like “you my dude are seen and loved for who you are”.

Felix

Giving: Giving gifts/Physical touch

He is defiantly a giver. He literally seems like he is so thoughtful and cares so much. Like we all know how his fellow members said he is great at gifts. Well duh. I feel like his gifts are not always big but like a small food or drink he brings because he knows you always love it, a flower he saw in the front of a flower shop he thought was pretty. Something you said you needed (or you didn’t say) but he knows you do need it because he just pays that much attention. A pendant necklace. A ring. A small ice-cream because the day is hot so why not. A donut that had flower sprinkles because you like to post aesthetic foods and so on. You name it. They would not be obnoxious, but it would sure show how much you are occupying his thoughts.

We also always know how he is attached to the hip to the people he is close to and he loves skinship. He said he loves back hugs, hugs, kisses he wants it all:)) So he gives plenty of cuddles for sure. You can never escape the octupus arms as you go to sleep each night, so might as well set up the air conditioning in your house as it’s about to get warm but affection and love above all, right? :)))))))

Receiving: Words of affirmation/Physical touch

I think he thrives if you return his little ministrations of affection. Does it matter? A hug, a kiss, holding him, a little massage, hand size comparison, throwing yourself on top of him on the couch or the bed at the end of the day. He LOVES it. You are also competing with Chan lol but no worries, he has plenty affections for all:))

Also I think he needs reassurance and a sense that people that are closest are proud of what he is doing(wipe your tears bitch). So I think acknowledging his hard work and the fact that he pulls through despite certain mental heath problems and telling him he does an amazing job and complementing his work would definitely mean a lot to him.

But give the boy your affection, A VerY tOucHy BoI. It makes his heart swell with joy knowing you pull him close and feel so much love for him that you don’t hold back from giving. Be an octopus with him tambien😊

Seungmin

Giving: Acts of service

Another one for acts of service. Our smol good boi which somehow does not seem smol at all because he exudes maturity and rationality lmao.

He would be such a servant if he loves you. AND YOU WOULD NOT EVEN NOTICE at first. Like I feel like he does stuff in a way similar to Minho where he makes sure your life is as easy as can be. Like puts your shoes out of the way, checks the weather so you don’t leave dressed inappropriately (forces you to take the puffier jacket despite it not going with your outfit, because “do you want to catch a cold, hm?”), gives you an umbrella. Fixes a random necklace which you broke by accident because he knows it will sit there for like 3 years if it’s in your care, and you like the necklace 😊. Makes sure you eat something healthy too(would definitely bring you washed and cut-up fruits after going out to eat at mcdonalds). And he for sure does not expect you to really notice, but if you do he is getting flustered and runs out the room with a big smile😊 what a baby tm.

Receiving: Acts pf service

I feel like he would appreciate most if you also took time out of your day to ease his life too. I feel like he would feel such relief and happiness and his heart would swell with affection and appreciation if you took on one of his (no matter how insignificant) tasks. Like he would be in a rush to leave and you woke up earlier before work to make him a coffee. Or when he comes home late you already put his clothes on the bed and prepared a bath. Or getting up and asking for extra napkins if he was not given any, or simply asking how can you make his day better. I feel like being helpful and listening and paying close attention to him would be what makes him happiest.

I.N./Jeongin:

Giving: Quality time/Gifts

He gets awkward when he tries to express feelings with words and is def not the most fond of skinship. However, I think if you were close he would be an amazing listener and sit with you and you could both share and grow together so much. He would give you the feeling he is ready to listen and be with you if you need him.

That and also I feel like when you are out and about it makes him feel good to know he can buy you things you can enjoy, and you are appreciative of them and he has that power to brighten your day and be a mature adult by buying you things, despite not really needing them sometimes.

Receiving: Quality time/Words

You know how he struggled a bit with the dancing at first and you know how the other members say that he does nothing when someone criticizes him, he just goes out of his way to fix his “mistakes”? And also in Vlive when he said he doesn’t like to watch his own fancams because all he sees are his mistakes? My baby seems to have a bit (quite some) of an imposter syndrome and since he is young and everyone teases him, although with love, I feel like it gets a bit uncomfortable and tough. He seems he just wants to keep up, and be the best at what he does but it gets tough when you have to catch up with people who have been doing the thing for many more years than you and you are struggling with your feelings and figuring things out as you grow within a demanding contract. So I think someone to listen to his worries and give him undivided attention without judgement and put in their input without being intrusive would be the most amazing thing to him. That, along with compliments and acknowledgement of his efforts, telling him that he is doing GOOD and you are proud (although he might think that you are just saying it, since he seems to only see ways he needs to improve) would be good at raising his self esteem and encourage him to continue with his hard efforts.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #skz #stray kids fanfic #stray kids au #skz imagines #skz scenarios #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han #felix #seungmin #jeongin #love langauges

140 notes · View notes

drabbles-of-writing · 3 years

Text

Movie Night

This is part of my Beta AU

AO3

Masterpost

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

There was screaming in Blight Manor again.

Most neighbors didn’t hear it, beyond muffled sounds in the distance. Hard to hear anything in that Manor when the properties were so big for no discernable reason.

But sometimes the neighbors hear. And so long the screams stay laced with curses, snarling, and the occasional shattering glass instead of bloody murder, they let it be.

Edric stood by the front door, arms crossed as he stared out at the Manor’s gate like there wasn’t screeching coming from his home. He winced every time the noise raised even a notch.

He checked his watch, frowning as he began tapping his foot. After a few more moments he began to turn, reaching for the door handle.

The front door swung open before he could get to it. Emira said something back behind her, much quieter than the fit coming from inside. Amity all but stormed out right after her, the screaming dying as Emira slipped out after her and the door was quickly shut.

Emira looked tired, and Edric mirrored it, with just a bit more worry in his features. They looked to Amity next, quiet as she shoved the unlocked gate open.

“Well?” Amity spat, whirling around.

Her glare increased when their expressions turned empathetic. Emira was quick to wipe it off and continued down the driveway, pulling out her car keys. Edric hesitated for a moment as he followed his sisters, beginning to open the door as they pulled themselves into the car.

“I’ll steal your keys back.” He said after a moment, earning a slightly surprised look from Amity as she turned to him. “Not, like, today,” He added quickly. “But, er, soon.” He mumbled, ducking into his seat in the back. Amity had already taken a shotgun and nobody was in the mood to argue.

The keys weren’t really the issue, they all knew it wasn’t. Not even close. But the effort was there, and really, he couldn’t think of much better to offer.

Amity knew. She looked back at him over her seat for a moment, and while her ears were still pressed back and fangs still threatening to show at any provocation, she nodded to him. Edric loosened just a little bit, and Emira relaxed a bit herself as she started the car.

“For a price, of course.” Edric added right after. “But I’ll be nice and just ask you to give me my necklace back. And those dangly bracelets as compensation.”

“Eat shit, Ed.” Amity huffed. Emira offered her a half-empty container of hand sanitizer from the junk in her car and Amity was quick to chuck it at Edric’s head.

“Fine, fine!” Edric poorly covered his head from the offending weapon. “Just the choker then, have it your way!”

“Get it back yourself, all you’re getting is a thumb ring if you're lucky.” Amity snarked, more of a sharp, warning bite to it than probably necessary.

“Eh, I can make it work.” Edric shrugged noncommittally, eyeing her warily before going quiet.

Silence fell over the car again, aside from the quick words shared between the twins.

Amity kept her eyes either through the windshield or her own doors window. The twins shared worried looks that Amity, for her part, pretended not to notice. She picked at her bracelets until Hexside came into view.

“Gimme the straws if you wanna see something really impressive.”

“Gus,” Willow said calmly, looking up from her half-eaten orange. “Don’t give her the straws.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Gus squeaked, holding the two straws he’d managed to get far out of Luz’s reach.

“It’s just water! Not like I’m gonna be snorting soda.” Luz complained, rolling her eyes.

“Why would you want to snort water?” Gus exclaimed, aghast. “Why with straws?”

“Because if I just shove it on my face it’ll look less cool.” Luz said it was obvious.

“I don’t think there’s a dignified way to drink water through your nose.” Willow deadpanned. “You’ll choke on it regardless.”

“Will not, I have practice,” Luz insisted. “Ergo, it’s far less idiotic than if I was doing it the first time.”

“It’s still idiotic,”

“I never said I was perfect.”

“Hey, Amity!” Gus called, breaking the two girls out of their argument. He waved across the cafeteria, where Amity had escaped the line with her tray of food.

She already looked like she was about to hit something, but then again, she always did. Gus waved her down, and Luz was almost impressed by how quickly he stopped being terrified of her, before she realized Willow was also trying to subtly wave her down. Little shits just wanted a way to stop her from her straw trick, the traitors.

Amity hesitated for a brief moment before storming over, nearly slamming her tray on the table as she stiffly sat. She didn’t really need to be waved over, she sat with them most days anyway, making Luz’s glare at her two friends all the more seething.

“Now that you’re here,” Luz said, deciding that now she was taking the petty route. “Wanna see a cool trick?”

“No,” Willow answered before Amity could, giving her a warning look. “You’ll choke on your fragile human lungs or whatever.”

“I punctured a lung once and survived, so jot that down,” Luz said matter-of-factly. “Second, I was not asking you.”

“Do I have a choice?” Amity grumbled, holding her face in her hand with a bored look.

“Not really, no.” Luz shrugged, already reaching for Gus’s straws again.

Gus was quick to take one of the straws and slide it over to Amity. She blinked down at it in surprise for a moment before rolling her eyes.

“I’m not fighting Luz over a straw.” She said, sounding almost offended.

“Really? Would’ve thought you’d fight me over the proper way to walk.” Luz raised a brow, one hand on Gus’s head as she pushed him down and snatched the first straw out of his hand.

“Keep talking and I just might,” Amity growled, shooting her a glare. “You’re making it quite easy to fantasize bashing your face against concrete.”

“I’m flattered,” Luz teased right back with a crooked, cocky grin. “I might just take you up on that offer.”

Amity flashed a large fang for a moment before grabbing whatever the witch equivalent of a yogurt container was and chucked it at Luz’s head. She yelped and ducked, letting it splat against the ground behind her. Barely anyone noticed.

“If you're not gonna eat any of that, at least give it to me.” Willow sighed, gestring to Amity’s tray. “It would make this horrendous experience more tolerable.”

“Piss off,” Amity snapped back with bared teeth, her hair almost mimicking a cat's hackles rising from how it seemed to spike. “You can live with this for ten minutes.”

Luz and Gus glanced at each other in mirrored surprise. Amity was snappy with everyone, but Willow was...uncommon. A bit gruff and sarcastic yes, but not usually as aggressive. That was reserved for pretty much everyone else save for Gus.

And, y’know, she actually tried to be nicer these days to Willow. Making amends and all that.

Willow seemed a bit taken aback by her snapping too, though it was much more dulled compared to the other two, and harder to notice unless you’re looking for it. She didn’t respond and simply shrugged, going back to eating her own food as Amity seethed, glaring at the table.

Luz looked to Gus. She looked at Willow. Both of whom were worried and confused respectively. Amity had a bad day every now and again, but normally she just...fought Luz in the hallway and got it over with.

Luz thought for a moment, the sudden silence at the table interrupted only by the soft tapping of her foot. She glanced between her tray and Amity a few times, who kept glaring at the table like she was trying her damndest to ignore the sudden tension at the table. Or she just hadn’t noticed.

After a moment or two she jerked her head up, leveling her glare with Luz.

“Would you quit it?” Amity snapped.

“Huh?” Luz startled out of her thoughts.

“Your foot sounds like it's having a seizure. You’re not doing yourself any favors here unless you're some masochist actually looking forward to getting beaten to a pulp later.” Amity growled, the nails of one of her hands digging into the table. Or did they count as claws? Luz would have to ask Guys later.

Luz watched Amity for a moment, hands clasped in front of her face. Her foot tapping had stopped. Amity’s glare turned a bit unnerved, looking around like she thought Luz was staring at something else.

“Have you ever seen human media on witches?” Luz finally blurted, ending the few seconds of silence.

“What?” Amity balked.

“Yeah, I was talking about it with Gus the other day,” Luz said, which wasn’t a lie, he had expressed interest in what humans thought of witches. The boy perked up at the mention of their conversation. “And since this geek here hasn’t seen much human media, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess you haven’t either, no?”

“Why in the world would I?” Amity frowned. “We’ve got entirely different kinds of internet compared to them, why would I even care?”

“Because,” Luz said, a mischievous smile on her face as she lowered her hands. “I grew up with that stuff, and lemme just say, from personal experience,” She said, gesturing to the cafeteria filled with witches and demons around them. “You guys would have a field day with it.”

“What, like, witch movies?” Willow mumbled, a hint of recognition lighting in her eyes.

“Movies about witches, movies with witches in them, yadda yadda,” Luz nodded, waving a hand around. “I just so happen to own a few old DVDs, as well as gaining the knowledge on how to pirate everything else,” She said, quickly raising a hand when Gus opened his mouth to speak. “No, not the pirating you’re thinking of.” She added as he slowly shut his mouth again.

“My mami’s gonna be working late today, so we’ve got plenty of time to binge the worst of the best.” Luz continued.

“And you’re mentioning this why…?” Amity frowned, tilting her head.

“Because I know you’ll get pissed off at it.” Luz said simply, her cocky smile never leaving. Also technically not a lie.

“Of course,” Amity slumped back with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Really?” Gus all but jumped out his seat, eyes shining excitedly. “This is perfect! This could be amazing for my studies on how humans have pictured witches through their current--”

“If you bring anything other than a notepad and pen I’m not letting you in my house.” Luz deadpanned.

Which was a lie, Willow can and would let Gus in no matter what he brought. But it got him to calm slightly and nod seriously.

“Trying to get out of a fight, Noceda?” Amity taunted. “I thought better of you.”

“Could you at least beat the shit out of me after the movie marathon?” Luz rolled her eyes. “I’m always down for a spar or two, but what kind of friends don’t have a movie marathon of questionable tastes on a school night?” Luz said with a raised brow.

“Want us to swing by right after school?” Willow inquired, mercifully saving Amity from her momentary shocked expression being seen by Luz.

“Nah, give it an hour or so, still gotta set things up.” Luz said. “And,” She gave a pointed glare around the whole table this time. “This time I would actually appreciate it if my neighbors didn’t get worried about someone breaking and entering by going through the window.”

“I got caught once!” Gus complained.

“And this asshole got caught three times!” Luz pointed accusingly at Amity. “We’re lucky they only called the police once before deciding it was normal.”

“Not my fault you argue with me as loud as possible every time,” Amity shot back. “You don’t argue with Gus!”

“Gus made an honest mistake, and it was his first offence.” Luz said, crossing her arms as Willow snickered. “You, on the other hand, are a menace.”

“I thought you’d have figured that out ages ago.” Amity scoffed. “Really, it's your fault for being so oblivious.”

“She’d know all about that, huh?” Willow mumbled, taking a sip of her drink.

Luz contemplated kicking her under the table. She thought better of it. She decided to just relish in Amity’s curt, slightly loosened comebacks. Better than before, at least.

Luz opened her front door only for a moment before darting back to the kitchen. Maybe she had poor host etiquette, but she kind of had some popcorn on the line here.

“Sorry we’re late!” Gus fretted, hurrying in as Willow entered behind him. “I was trying to find the right size of notepad and then Willow took a while to get ready and--”

“Sorry my flytrap got a taste for flesh again,” Willow muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t worry about it!” Luz called from her kitchen, withdrawing her popcorn and frowning when she opened it and found that half of it was burnt. Curse her shitty microwave. “Amity hasn’t gotten here yet, either.”

“Ooh, what’s that?” Gus asked, bouncing into the kitchen and around the island in the middle as he stared at the candy and chips set out.

“Human food,” Luz said, tossing the burnt popcorn aside as she got a new packet. “I’m introducing you to the real stuff. You’re gonna hate the peppermint.” She said with a grin.

“If you try to give me anything with the word ‘mint’ in its name, I won’t hesitate to hurt you.” Willow warned.

“I actually happen to value my life, contrary to popular belief.” Luz scoffed like she was an idiot. “Luckily for me,” She gestured to Gus staring at all her food, clearly not having heard anything they were saying. “I can trick that one and Amity into eating them.”

“Amity won’t make good on her promise of not fighting you until the marathon is over if you try that,” Willow warned her, wandering around the kitchen for a bit before resting beside the sink and leaning against the counter.

“Which means I can hold it over her head when she tries to make me promise I won’t do anything.” Luz said this was an ingenious plan. “It’s foolproof. I win either way.”

“I’m not so sure a black eye counts as winning,” Willow mumbled, but didn’t comment further as Luz shoved the new batch of popcorn in the microwave.

Gus reached for the candy on the island counter before Luz batted his hand away. He gave her a pitiful look and she leveled it with a harsh one of her own they both knew she didn’t mean. He got the chocolate bar anyway.

“Why does it smell like something burned alive in here?”

The three turned, looking towards the front door, that nobody had closed, thanks guys, where Amity stood. Her face was scrunched up at the smell, looking a bit frazzled but no worse for wear.

“Popcorn,” Luz said simply. “And you, Blight, are late.”

“Had to steal Em’s car,” Amity said, wandering in and eyeing the snacks on the counter. “Didn’t feel like explaining to her where I was going to need her car.”

“Don’t you have your own?” Luz said, furrows pinched together as she looked back.

Amity paused for a moment before shrugging mutely and leaning against the counter not too far away from Willow. Luz decided not to push.

“If it burns again, I’m just gonna eat it, ash and all.” Luz sighed, tapping at the glass of the microwave before sitting on the counter beside it, feet dangling off.

“It’s not supposed to look like that, then?” Willow said, picking up the discarded bag Luz hadn’t thrown away yet and peering inside. “I could eat this.”

“You’re witches, you could eat a nuclear power plant if you wanted.” Luz muttered. “I’ll just save the ashy ones for the endless maw over here.” She said, jerking her head in Amity’s direction.

“I’m touched,” Amity said dryly. “What weird human movie are you gonna be subjecting us to today?” She sighed.

“I’m so glad you asked!” Luz perked up. “We’ve got a bunch of horror movies and regular movies, but I figured we could save the horror movies for when it's really dark, so I am blessing the three of you with The Wizard of Oz as an introduction.” Luz said, practically glowing as she spoke a mile a minute.

“Wizards aren’t--”

“I know wizards aren’t witches, I learned my lesson, blame Harry Potter.” Luz said, raising a hand to Gus’s protest. “Which, no, we are not going to be watching. Anyway, there are two witches in the movie! We can save the purely witch-centered movies for later, this is just an introduction.” She said,

Gus nodded enthusiastically, listening intently as Willow snorted. Luz was quick to go off on a tangent about the different movies she’d sifted through, relishing in Willow’s tired look at the cheesy names from over half of them. She waved her hands about animatedly as she discussed movies she’d known for years and how now she got to properly bully them and--

Amity was very obviously not processing a damn thing she was saying.

She was watching Luz, same as the other two, and she was interested, but certainly not in whatever she was saying. Her ears were drooped back and she seemed just a tad more relaxed, less tense than she was earlier.

Willow, of course, being closest to the witch, noticed first.

She glanced back to the sink for a moment before grabbing the faucet, which she could pull out and appeared to have a spray option on it.

She looked to Amity for a moment, who still hadn’t stopped staring, aimed it, and turned it on.

Amity yelped and spat, jerking back, as the spray got her. Luz and Gus jerked around for just a moment before Luz burst out laughing, hunched over on the counter as Gus poorly hid giggles.

Amity whirled on Willow with a glare and a growl, the witch turning off and lowering the faucet slightly. She gave her a smug look, and, in a tone barely heard above the other twos laughing, said;

“Sorry, thought you looked thirsty.” In a dry, emotionless tone. Her gleeful grin said otherwise.

Amity spat, flushed to the tips of her ears, and took a clawed swing in Willow’s direction. The witch was unperturbed and stepped to the side to avoid a gash to the face.

“Amity, Amity no,” Luz wheezed out, dropping off the counter and quickly wrapping an arm around Amity’s midsection to stop another lunge. “You can’t fight Willow, she will kill you.”

“It’ll be worth it!” Amity snarled, pulling against Luz’s grasp with angry swipes that couldn’t quite reach Willow’s smug face, causing Luz to haul her back with both arms.

“It really won’t,” Luz said, still clearly amused by the whole thing. “The dedication is still admirable, though.”

“Uh, Luz?” Gus peered through the glass of the microwave. “I think it started burning again, it smells weird.”

“Shit!” Luz quickly released Amity, almost sending her toppling to the floor, as she rushed back to the microwave and tore it open.

She withdrew the bag and opened it with only a small wince at how hot it was, peering inside before sighing.

“Welp, it’s the best we’re gonna get.” Luz said, setting it aside.

Amity flipped off Willow, who only responded with a chuckle, as Luz continued talking about movies and gathered the snacks together to take to the living room, making Gus carry the rest. As the four wandered off towards the other room, Luz paused and looked back towards the front door.

“Jesus Christ, do you guys not know how to close doors?” She hissed, quickly dumping the snacks on the couch before going back to the front door. “Three of you come in and not one of you could remember to shut a door?”

“I got distracted by the smell of burnt failure,” Amity defended, taking the corner of the couch for herself.

“This is gonna be worse for you,” Luz called, shutting the front door and skidding back in. “You have a better sense of smell than me.”

“Not my house,” Amity shrugged as Luz quickly took the middle of the coach before Gus could. The boy gave her a comically betrayed look as Willow took the floor and he had to be squished into the other corner.

“You’re still getting the burnt popcorn,” Luz said, fishing on the coffee table through the snacks for the remote. “Maybe I’ll be nice and throw you a normal one here and there to spice it up.”

“How sweet of you,” Amity grumbled, crossing her arms and leaning back further on the couch as Luz started flipping on the TV.

“Also, as a heads up,” Luz added as she readied the DVD already mostly set up. “I may have gone on a research binge when I was younger for about seventy percent of these movies, so you’re all going to be subjected to weird facts I know.”

“Are we sure this isn’t a torture experiment?” Willow teased, leaning against the couch between Luz and Gus.

“Torture for you, maybe.” Luz corrected. “I’m gonna have the time of my life.”

Six and a half movies later, Gus had filled out almost every page of his notepad, and Luz had barely escaped getting broken teeth. There were cries of outrage, confusion, and plenty of shouting at the screen for inaccuracies. Lots of ‘look, it's you!’ from Luz at whatever weird or villainous thing the witch on screen did towards her friends, particularly Amity, and receiving bruises on her arms and sides for her troubles. The Wizard of Oz had been the worst, what with her comparing the Wicked Witch’s green skin to Amity’s hair.

They fought over the last piece of candy from a pack, Amity tried sneaking a grab at the un-burnt popcorn pieces and decided she liked the ashy ones better (to which Luz looked rather horrified) while stealing any of the sour patches Willow tried to nab as retribution. Luz introduced Gus and Amity to the peppermint, which almost ended in Amity fighting her right there and then if it weren’t for Willow threatening to beat both of them up if they didn’t quit it. Long, informative rants from Gus the girls all groaned through, Luz going on and on about facts about the movie productions, and a certain instance where they were pretty sure one of the actors in the movie they were watching was actually a witch, and things were finally winding down.

Gus had already passed out, the poor guy, and Willow didn’t look too far behind. Amity was probably only awake out of spite at this point, and even she looked close to sleep. Luz was hardly paying attention to the TV anymore, the volume lowered for Gus's sake more than anything.

“It’s gonna be such a pain in the ass to get to school tomorrow,” Willow muttered bitterly, eyes shut as she leaned back against the couch.

“Nothing important is for another week,” Luz lazily waved a hand. “We can afford to pass out in class.”

“You’re the last person who can afford to skimp out on work,” Amity mumbled. “Gus is already smart, and Willow and I can intimidate the teachers into giving us a pass.”

“Bullies, the two of you.” Luz huffed. “You’re just gonna leave me to rot, huh? Let me fend for myself in this vicious world? I thought better of you.”

“No you didn’t,” Amity scoffed. “Now shut up, you’re too loud.” She complained, batting at the human's face.

“You’re just tired, I’m talking at a perfectly reasonable volume.” Luz rolled her eyes. “Witch hearing isn’t so fun now, is it?”

Amity gave Luz a glare and a weak, croaky growl in the back of her throat. Luz gave a poor attempt at a mock-growl back. Amity was quick to raise a hand and make a grab at Luz when Willow spoke up, still perfectly still even in her half-asleep state.

“Both of you be quiet,” Willow gruffed, immediately getting the two to quickly freeze.

They held still for a brief few moments, glancing between each other and Willow. After a minute or two with Willow not making any other movements or further tired threats, they slowly relaxed back into the couch, Amity giving up on swiping at Luz.

“You’re growling is horrible,” Amity whispered, barely audible above the soft hum of the television.

“Unfortunately, I was born with vocal cords that don’t let me sound like a crocodile on steroids.” Luz whispered back. “But I spent a good few years of my childhood mimicking cat sounds, so I like to think that’ll give me an edge.”

“Do I even want to ask?” Amity grimaced, giving Luz a hesitant look.

“I was a really weird kid,” Luz shrugged, constantly glancing at Willow to make sure she was quiet enough not to wake her up.

“You still are,” Amity deadpanned.

“Aw, how sweet.” Luz placed a hand on her chest with an emotional expression. “Never thought you had it in you.”

Amity muttered a quick ‘move’ as her only warning before she sharply punched Luz’s arm. The human hissed and jerked away, rubbing at the sore spot.

“You know it doesn’t actually count as a warning if you give zero room for a reaction, right?” Luz grumbled.

“I give you plenty room, you had a whole second there to move.” Amity replied, voice lowered as she leaned against the arm of the couch. “A warning is a warning, be grateful I’m giving one at all.”

“Your honor code is a Roulette wheel,” Luz huffed.

“It’s not a--”

Gus shifted and the two of them went quiet again. They watched him as he shifted around in his sleep and almost went careening off the couch. Luz shot out a hand and caught his back, holding him right on the edge as he settled down again. She slowly pushed him back onto the couch, and he barely reacted.

They breathed a sigh of relief, laying back against the couch. Amity leaned her back against the arm of the couch and stretched out her legs, kicking up against Luz’s side. She turned to glare at the witch, momentarily caught off guard by the eerie glow Amity’s eyes had in the shifting, dim light from the television. Amity didn’t break eye contact.

She couldn’t help but feel like she was being studied. Like a cat determining whether or not it was worth it to go after a bird in the garden. Her blank face didn’t help matters.

“You’re sure your mom won’t realize we’re here?” Amity spoke before Luz could, eyes never leaving her.

“Uh, no, no, she’s usually pretty tired whenever she gets back, and we’re out of view of the front door, so she’ll just go to sleep and we’ll be at school before she wakes up.” Luz said, the first to break eye contact. “I’m more worried about you guys’ parents wondering where you went off to.”

“Eh, Willow can handle her dads.” Amity shrugged, slowly turning her head away to watch the movie after Luz looked away. “Gus’s dad is the only one we’ll have to be worried about.”

“Really? Would’ve thought a rich girl like you had a stricter curfew.” Luz teased, shaking off the tension from earlier. “They let you party all night, any night?”

Amity didn’t respond. Luz noted the claws on one of her hands slid unsheathed. Alright then, touchy subject. That didn’t surprise her much, considering how she’d spoken of them in the past.

“...I can’t believe you liked these movies.” Amity eventually sighed, scoffing at some scene involving wands and whatnot on screen. “No wonder you were so helpless when you came to Hexside.”

“Hey!” Luz snapped, remembering to lower her voice at the last second. “This ‘helpless’ human has fought the cliche trigger-happy jock and won.” She accused, pointing towards Amity.

“You have not.” Amity scoffed. “It's not a winning fight until someone surrenders or runs off.”

“So you’re saying we end in draws, then?” Luz raised a brow. “I still think that looks pretty good on my record.”

“Your record went up in flames months ago,” Amity rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky you're easy to pity.”

“Going soft on me, Blight?” Luz teased, sticking out her tongue. “Or are you that worried I might win?”

Amity glared at her, claws still unsheathed, Luz noted without changing her face from her taunting expression. Amity’s eyes narrowed for a second and she growled, and that was her only warning before she sprung out of her position and lunged.

Luz choked back a laugh and a surprised squeak as she jerked back, raising her foot and kicking at Amity to hold her at bay. She almost landed right over Gus, just barely missing him as Amity hissed and one of her claws dug into the side of Luz’s leg, ow.

The other hand lashed out to hit Luz before she caught her wrist and held it away just enough to avoid her claws, pushing her leg on Amity’s stomach further out to keep her off.

“Time and a place, Ames.” Luz whispered, cocking a brow as she jerked her head in the direction of Willow still sleeping leaned against the couch, almost definitely bound to wake up if they started a fight now. And Gus.

Amity glowered, lips pulled back to flash honestly ridiculously oversized fangs. Not that she was complaining of course. She looked like she still wanted to tackle Luz despite the poor repercussions that would follow, but alas, she eventually pulled her wrist out of Luz’s now lax grip.

Luz kicked her and Amity wheezed, falling back onto her side of the couch as Luz snickered and drew her legs back under her. She frowned at the tears in her jeans and scratches along her leg and flipped off Amity with her most exasperated look.

Amity’s hair puffed up as she repeated the gesture. They scowled at each other for a few moments before Luz gave up and shook her head, allowing a quiet chuckle at the ridiculousness of the two of them. Amity sighed and lowered her hand as Luz did the same, expression softening as Luz leaned further back against the couch, ears lowered.

“Wake me before I miss the first period, will ya?” Luz asked, right before leaning right across the couch and onto Amity’s arm.

“Not in your life.” Amity hissed, tensing. Her hands twitched and she looked ready to shove the human off, who only gave her a smug look and finger guns in response.

“You're lucky I put up with you.” Amity grumbled, clearly deciding against pushing her to the floor.

“Feelings mutual,” Luz said, waving a hand casually before shutting her eyes. “Just keep quiet and I won’t have to make you sleep in your car.”

“Sure, make me sleep in my car.” Amity scoffed, leaning her head back against the couch and letting her eyelids fall. “Nice one, Noceda.”

“I know, I’m hilarious.” She grinned, not bothering to open her eyes.

Amity rolled her eyes before closing her eyes as well, arms loosely crossed as she let Luz adjust against her side. Luz could still hear the quiet hum of the TV still playing the movie, but decided against turning it off. Too much effort, and the movie would end soon, anyway. It was far too quiet to disturb anyone.

Amity hadn’t legitimately snapped at anyone since the second movie, so really, Luz would call tonight a win.

Though it took only a moment before Amity, also not reopening her eyes, reached out and yanked Luz’s beanie over her face.

“Wh--hey!” Luz snapped, flailing around and managing to land a smack or two on Amity, who, in response, hissed and pushed at her face.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Both of them froze at the sound of Willow’s tired voice, a snarl laced in her tone. They looked over only for a moment to spot her glaring at the two of them with malice before they immediately went back to their previous sleeping positions, eyes shut tight.

None of them moved for the rest of the night.

97 notes · View notes

nagito-kissmaeda · 3 years

Text

Arcade - Komaeda x Reader

ミ☆ Just a silly thing I wrote about an arcade employee being baffled while Komaeda clears out all the machines lol ミ☆ I’ve been feeling kind of down about my writing so i just wanted to do something fun. It’s not very good haha. I’m tired and i can’t write good asjfkakd

Night shift at the arcade is usually pretty quiet. Most people start leaving around dinner time and while there are usually still some hardcore gamers lurking around until the AM, most of them only come in on Friday’s or weekends. So the job is usually easy breezy, most nights you lean up on the counter and browse the internet on your phone until your shift ends.

Tonight though, you have been acutely watching as this guy moves from machine to machine. Absolutely clearing them out. You’ve never seen anything like it. Presently, you are crouched behind a claw machine filled with Hello Kitty plushies as this guy slips two bucks into the Big Bass Wheel cabinet. Your eyes drift over to the last cabinet he used, the Wizard of Oz coin pusher. It is empty , you have never seen that happen in the whole time you’ve worked here. You weren’t even sure it could happen.

The guy spins the wheel, it spins and spins and spins. Jackpot. Your eyes narrow, a jackpot isn’t too uncommon, it honestly isn’t even worth that many tickets, but then he nonchalantly slides in another two dollars and hits jackpot again . This is starting to get suspicious.

The machine is spitting out tickets now, so many tickets. Even the guy looks surprised, you are definitely surprised. Two jackpots is not worth that many tickets, but they just keep coming and coming. Machine fault? Must be. The guy looks almost resigned at this point, sighing unhappily as the tickets keep spewing out, like they’re wasting his time and not like this was a superhuman feat of luck. Then, the machine starts smoking.

“Shit!” You hiss, jumping up from your hiding place behind the claw machine and dashing over to the guy before anything catches on fire. You’ve caught him by surprise, he probably didn’t realise you were following him around, “out of the way, please!”

He ducks out of the way, pulling his armfuls worth of tickets along with him as you switch the arcade cabinet off at the wall. The machinery inside stops whirring and the smoke calms down. You wipe your forehead with the back of your hand, you’ve never seen a machine fault this badly before, you were probably going to need to file an indecent report. What a pain.

“You okay?” You ask the guy. He is a lot taller up close, and the shock of messy white hair on his head only makes him seem taller. He sways like a palm tree in the breeze, clutching onto his massive wad of tickets for dear life.

“I’m sorry. I broke your machine.”

Oh...his voice is softer than you had expected it would be. The lights from a nearby Daytona cabinet are reflecting in his green eyes. You swallow, “You didn't break anything, machine fault, it happens sometimes.”

His eyes drift away from you and over to the cabinet, the smoke has stopped now, it doesn't look like there was too much damage, but he looks very upset about it anyway.

“Hey, seriously, dont worry about it.” You give him an awkward pat on his forearm, “The machines in here are really old, stuff like this happens all the time.”

“Oh...ah…” He bites his lip, “If you’re sure…”

You smile, “Yeah, don't even sweat it. You can keep the tickets by the way, once they're out of the machine it's a nightmare to get them back in again, so consider it an apology for almost setting you on fire.”

He laughs weakly, “Thank you.”

“Hey, uh…” You start, not so subtle eyeing his ticket collection. A decent chunk of it was from that Big Bass Wheel malfunction, an already exorbitant number was won legit. More than you had ever seen anyone win before, “are you a cabinet master?”

“A...what?”

“Like, you know all the sweet spots on the machines. Technically not cheating, but not entirely legal either.”

His eyes widen, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” You shake your head at him, “You just won a lot of tickets is all. I’ve never seen someone win that many tickets.”

“I’m just really lucky. It’s all i'm good at, honestly.” He’s fiddling with the tickets in his arms, “My friend’s birthday is coming up and i'm trying to win her that Sailor Moon statue.”

It is true that there is a coveted Sailor Moon statue amongst the arcade’s prize collection. It’s huge, beautifully painted and according to your boss, incredibly rare . It’s been sitting there on the shelf for god knows how long, still tight in it’s shrinkwrap. Generally the most any player is able to afford is three or four sticky hands and a glow in the dark spider ring, but this guy is getting tantalisingly close.

You cross your arms and smirk at him, “You’re really that lucky?”

“Most of the time.”

“Okay then. You’re going to play Monster Drop next, it's the hardest cabinet we have.” You start heading over to the machine in the back of the arcade, it’s huge, you always forget how huge it is. The guy is diligently following behind you, shoulders hunched like he’s trying to make himself seem smaller. The pile of tickets in his arms rustling as he walks, “I’ve never seen anyone get a monster jackpot on this thing. Also my boss filled it with a bunch of different sized balls, so it's basically impossible to get a standard jackpot too, even after practicing at other arcades.”

“Hm. Is that really fair?”

You shrug a shoulder, “Nope. It’s big and loud, so lots of people want to play it and Boss doesn't want too many people winning. there's a catch though, raise the difficulty and you also raise the ticket payout. So if you manage to beat it, you'll be able to afford Sailor Moon.”

The current ticket payout is displayed in flashing red lights, 72,483 . With every failed attempt at hitting the monster jackpot the payout just gets higher and higher, those tantalising numbers draw in more kids hoping to be the one who gets lucky. A number that big means the cabinet has never been won, a smart arcade goer knows that a number like that means stay away.

“How do I play?” He asks, dropping his ticket collection on the ground at his feet.

“Ah, it’s deceptively simple.” You grab his hand and tug him over to the machine, gesturing up at where the balls drop down from, “You just need to press the button to let out a ball, and that’s literally it. The base of the machine spins around to make it harder to get the balls in. Monster jackpot is in the middle, so you would think a straight drop down would jackpot you every time but-”

He smirks wryly, “it’s never that easy is it?”

“Of course not! We’d never make any money if it was.”

He laughs to himself, pulling another coin out of his pocket and clinking it into the machine, “Ah, only one turn?”

You hold up a finger, “Just the one.”

He laughs again, “Brutal.”

“Very.” You take a step back to give him room to familiarise himself with the machine. Most people like to observe it from a few angles, take some time, watch at least one cycle before using up their one shot, “Good luck.”

He turns to you and smiles, “Thanks, but like i said, this is the one thing i'm good at.” He pushes the button, he isn't even looking at the machine, the rotating base hasn't even finished half a cycle. This guy is ballsy.

Despite his gumption, the ball falls a little short of the monster jackpot, “Aw, bad luck-” you start saying, but then it starts bouncing. Once off the base, three times off the sides, up high into the air and then plonk . Straight into the monster jackpot. All you can do is stare. Not only did he get the jackpot, he got it in a rigged machine while he wasn't even looking .

He laughs politely, the sound barely audible of the cabinet’s furious ringing bells and sirens signalling an impossible feat just happened here, everyone look! The tickets have started dispensing, with over 70k to print, it's going to be a long wait, “Jeez, that was scary. I almost thought my luck had run out there!”

He looks completely relaxed as he starts folding the fresh tickets into the neatest pile he can manage, “Are you a god or something?”

“Huh?” He says, blinking down at you, “That’s such a strange thing to ask me.”

“You just beat Monster Drop without looking . I’ve seen professional cabinet masters come in here and still lose after examining the machine for a good two hours!”

“Oh, no need to be impressed. I didn't actually do anything.” He smiles sadly and continues collecting his tickets, “It’s not really much of a talent, but i suppose it comes in handy sometimes.”

You clap a palm to your forehead, unable to believe what you are hearing, “You’re going to have enough tickets for the Sailor Moon statue and enough leftover for like...unlimited sticky hands.”

He taps a finger to his lips, “Oh! I would like some sticky hands.”

“How many?”

His brow creases as he considers it, “Three or four, i guess.”

“Three or-” you start laughing, “Buddy, i could pour the whole box into your bag if you wanted.”

“I don't think i need that many sticky hands, but it's very kind of you to offer.”

“We also have glow in the dark spider rings, and a robust selection of slinkies. Oh! If you really want to splurge we have a pair of slippers that resemble a character from Rick and Morty.”

He grimaces, “I would prefer the slinkies.”

You hear the arcade cabinet’s ticket dispenser finally come to a stop, and despite his good natured effort to collect the tickets in a neat pile, they are still all bunched up around his ankles. You are about to ask him another question when you quickly realise that the Monster Drop machine is now also smoking.

He sighs, “I should have known.”

You don't have time to look into that comment, you are too busy scrambling around to the back of the machine so you can turn the power off at the wall. Much like last time, you catch it before anything actually catches on fire. This has been a very eventful day.

“Hey, uh-” you start awkwardly, pulling yourself up from the ground and moving to help the guy contend with his ticket pile, “I finish in like half an hour...if you need help carrying your miscellaneous arcade prizes back to your car or whatever…”

He blinks at you as you both reach the prize counter and deposit the monstrous ticket collection onto the bench, “I should be okay on my own...but if you want to come I wouldn't mind, though I can’t guarantee I won’t set anything else on fire…” he chuckles nervously and you give him a quizzical look.

You do want to go with him, you aren't sure if it’s just a morbid curiosity about his luck with the arcade machines, or a fascination with the soft halo of white hair falling into his eyes, but you want to get to know him better, “I’ll come with you. You don’t have anywhere near enough fingers for all the glow in the dark spider rings I’m about to give you.” You say as you round the counter and start organising his tickets into more manageable piles.

He smiles, “that does sound like a good idea. I don’t want to drop any of my brand new sticky hands, after all.” He leans forward on the counter, blinking up at you. He’s got really pretty eyelashes, “I’m Nagito Komaeda, in case you were wondering.”

You laugh, “Nice to meet you, Nagito. Now give me 20 minutes to count all your damn tickets.”

#danganronpa #komaeda nagito #komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #danganronpa x reader #my writing #asjhfjdl i hate everything i write #its literally garbage lol

123 notes · View notes

sineala · 3 years

Text

Captain America: The Great Gold Steal

I wrote this up last week because I did not have access to my usual comics files but I figured I could review something that was just a book. So here is a review of the 1968 Captain America novel Captain America: The Great Gold Steal by Ted White, with an introduction by Stan Lee. I really liked it, actually! It was surprisingly good!

This novel features: Cover art of Captain America holding his shield in one hand and a very large gun in the other! A scene where the villains dramatically unmask Captain America and have absolutely no idea who he is! Captain America being extremely, extremely depressed about being in the future! Captain America dropping acid!

(I'm not kidding about the last part. In this novel there is a lot of LSD use. By Captain America. Talk about something the Comics Code wouldn't ever let you put in a comic book. Thank you, 1968.)

Faithful readers may remember that some time ago I posted reviews of Marvel prose novels from the 1970s. There was a line of prose novels featuring everyone's favorite Marvel superheroes, published by Pocket Books in the late 70s; I have reviews of the Iron Man, Captain America, and Avengers entries in the series; I liked the Iron Man one best, and I also have a Doctor Strange one I have not yet read. They're all short and action-packed paperback reads, of varying quality; the only one by anyone you might have heard of is the Avengers one, which was written by David Michelinie, who was actually writing the Avengers run at the time. That one was, um. An experience.

(Yes, it's "prose novel" because otherwise the assumption is "graphic novel.")

Marvel still publishes prose novels now, of course, also of varying quality; some are new plots and some are straight-up novelizations of comics arcs, which I guess is useful if you want to, say, read Civil War and not look at pictures at the same time. I also have a bunch of those that I could probably review if anyone wants. But, anyway, I personally am particularly intrigued by the older Marvel prose novels, both because the stories are all original and not retellings, and also because I often prefer the characterization found in older comics. And the older prose novels of course use the then-current characterization. So reading a Marvel prose novel from 1979 is like getting to read a brand-new comic from 1979, and that's a whole lot of fun for a nerd like me. Also do you know what's not subject to the Comics Code? Prose novels. So things can happen in these that definitely could not happen in comics of the same era.

This brings me to my current prose novel, which is something else entirely. I mean, okay, not really, it's still a Marvel prose novel. But it's not part of the same line. It's actually a lot older.

Bantam Books actually published Marvel prose novels in the late 60s. Yep, a full decade earlier. They published exactly two, so I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that they were probably not bestsellers. The first one, which I do not own and now sort of want to track down, was an Avengers novel in 1967, The Avengers Battle the Earth-Wrecker. And then in 1968 they published the novel I am currently holding in my hands, Captain America: The Great Gold Steal by Ted White.

(I am still not sure why no one involved in titling this book thought of the word "theft.")

Judging by the back copy, it appears to be about Captain America foiling the villains' dastardly plan to steal gold from the Federal Reserve. Oh boy. Fun.

So this book is from 1968. The modern Marvel universe had kicked off just a few short years ago! Captain America was just getting his own solo book after the end of Tales of Suspense! And here's a novel about him, back when certain elements of his characterization were perhaps a little more flexible than they are today, by which I mean that the cover art -- which the internet informs me was painted by Mitchell Hooks -- is a striking full-body portrait of Captain America, head held high, shield in one hand... and a very large gun in the other. Hell, yeah. Not gonna see that in today's Cap comics, are you? It's amazing and I love it.

(Okay, you might see that in Ults. I'm pretty sure I have seen that in Ults, actually. But this is still cool.)

So the cover art is a definite plus, and apparently it's one of the few reasons anyone has ever heard of this novel. The other reason -- and the reason this is more expensive than the later novels, I assume -- is that Stan Lee's name is slapped on the cover, because he wrote an introduction. (I think I paid about $30 for this. The others were definitely under $20.)

All right. Here we go.

The first page is actually a brief summary of Steve's origin story, but not a version I was familiar with. Steve was born July 9, 1917 (yes, I was surprised too), was orphaned at a young age, and was a student at Columbia University (!) before Rebirth, which in this version is a gradual process that is also extremely body-horror. Steel tubing was inserted into the marrows of his bones. He was fed "high-protein compounds." Then they gave him a chemical that "gave him complete control over every nerve, muscle, and cell in his now-magnificent body." Sweet. Where can I get some of that?

The blurb also confirms his control over his own metabolism as well as his healing factor ("wounds would heal in half the normal time"), which is nice, because sometimes I wonder if canon even remembers the healing factor.

(I don't know why Marvel has this kink for filling people's bones with metal, though. It's not actually empty in there, guys! You need your bone marrow! How else do you want people to make new blood cells?)

The book is dedicated to "Jack Kirby and Stan Lee, without whom there would be no Captain America." Hey, Marvel, Joe Simon would like a word with you. I'm just saying.

The Stan Lee introduction is three paragraphs written in Stan Lee's, um, inimitable, distinctive and extremely florid narrative style -- if you've read any of his work, you know what I mean -- and making the point that Captain America is incredible and you will like him. If you are just discovering him for the first time, you will definitely like him. Okay. Thanks. I guess.

Oddly, the writing style here is substantially different than any of the other Marvel prose novels I've read; it doesn't immediately front-load you with exposition and a cast of colorful superheroes. It opens with a sort of James Bond spy-novel feel, running through a series of unnamed villains and bystanders, and a man who wants nothing more than to talk to Captain America but is killed before he can. Steve comes in halfway through the chapter, and he seems to be written for a reader who doesn't necessarily know who he is, and he isn't introduced as Captain America with his shield flying ahead of him to smite evildoers, or anything like that. He's just a tall, handsome blond guy who is reading a bunch of novels and is unsatisfied by all of them because all he can think of is the past. It's definitely an attitude I would expect from Steve in this era -- he is very much a Man Out Of Time here -- but it's also not how I expected the book to introduce him. You wouldn't even know he was Captain America by the end of the opening chapter, which then ends with a digression about the history of NYC subway tunnels. It's like it wants to appeal to someone who has watched a bunch of Man from UNCLE and just wants to read a cool thriller. Which is not at all what I was expecting.

By the beginning of the second chapter, of course, we discover that Steve is Captain America, as he changes into his uniform. The narration refers to him as Rogers when it's in his POV, if anyone is curious. He apparently keeps the cowl off in the mansion, because the cowl annoys him.

It was not so much that he needed to conceal his identity these days, because for all intents and purposes he had no other identity. Steve Rogers was officially dead, and had been for almost twenty years. Captain America *was* his identity. It was only when he donned the tight-fitting blue uniform with its shield chest-emblem, the red snug-fitting leather boots, and the heavy, yet pressure-sensitive red-leather gauntlets, that he began to feel real -- a complete human being.

Steve? Buddy, are you okay there? You're really not okay, are you, huh?

You see what I mean? They're really hitting the early-canon angst. Hard.

(Also it sounds like his uniform is a few sizes too small.)

We then get an expanded version of the backstory from the beginning excerpt. In this version of canon, Steve actually has an older brother, Alan, who is handsome and athletic and basically amazing, and when they are orphaned they are raised by their aunt and uncle. Steve gets TB twice as a kid, nearly dies from it, and when the stock market crashes, ends up separated from his brother and in an orphanage after his uncle loses everything.

(Honestly if I were writing this book, his brother would be the secret villain. Chekhov's Gun!)

Steve has glasses, gets bullied, is a nerd and an honor student, and studies law at Columbia because he wants to help stop fraudulent business practices and also fight organized crime. Legally, I mean. In a manner relating to law. I guess he's sort of like Daredevil. The lawyer part of Daredevil.

And then he joins Rebirth, and this is the part where I had to put the book down for several minutes, because Erskine's secret chemical, the key to making super-soldiers... is LSD.

Oh my God. You should see my face right now. My expression is, I am sure, indescribable. I'm trying not to wake the dog up laughing.

I just. Holy shit. This book is from 1968 in a way I definitely was not expecting. What the fuck, Marvel?

This project was headed by the brilliant biochemist, Dr. Erskine. His work with the endocrine system, and chemical body control, was well beyond that of his contemporaries. Only he, of all his colleagues, had fathomed the secrets of the Swiss Dr. Hoffman's 1938 discovery -- the mind-controlling LSD-25.

Let's just pause here for a few minutes and contemplate this.

I will point out that Albert Hofmann (yes, the book spelled his name wrong) didn't actually discover that LSD was a hallucinogen until 1943 when he accidentally tried it, but I am positive that 1968 here was a time when Some People were convinced LSD was a wonder drug. I'm still laughing. As far as I can tell, legal manufacturing of it stopped in 1965 so I am pretty sure that the author did not just decide to name a drug that had an ostensible legal therapeutic use, because it wouldn't have still had one by '68.

Anyway, in this version of events, Rebirth is a month-long process that involves a lot of vitamins, physical conditioning and training, and, yes, putting metal in his bones like he's the next Wolverine. They're filling his bones with stainless steel rods to make him stronger. That doesn't seem like a great idea to me, but I am also not sure about dropping acid to gain superpowers. Clearly I am not a genius scientist. Also Erskine knows what DNA is, apparently, because he's just that great. Anyway. Other than the metal, those all seem like relatively normal interventions. So far.

Now Steve has become fairly big and strong (and I guess he still has metal in his bones? this concerns me!) but they need to make him superhuman, so, yes, really, it's time to drop acid. Several pages of this book are devoted to describing Steve's acid trip. His acid trip is amazing and he discovers that he has conscious control of his entire body down to the cellular level. He can control the adrenaline in his bloodstream! He can tighten his muscle fibers! And when he's done tripping he still remembers how to do this, if not exactly on a conscious level, but he can still access the abilities. And that is how you make a super-soldier. It's LSD. Remember, kids, drugs are awesome! Do drugs!

Let's maybe take a few more minutes to think about this.

I just. I have no words. How did anyone at Marvel agree to print this?

I think for the most part superhero origin stories tend not to involve real drugs because people are generally aware that drugs they've heard of won't make you into a superhero. I guess this is what it looks like when you invoke the names of real drugs. They probably wanted something that sounded more realistic but somehow I don't think this was the best way to go. (Radiation, of course, will definitely make you into a superhero but I feel like most people have accepted that as one of the conventions of the genre.)

Anyway, after that Erskine gets killed by Nazis, of course, and Steve goes to war, and for some reason this book contains footnotes by Stan Lee himself listing the comics you can read all of this in. Just like the actual comics do!

We are introduced to Bucky, who for some reason is also from the LES in this version, although not anyone Steve knew before the war, and there is of course a description of Bucky's tragic death and Steve's subsequent icing.

They are really, really stressing the Man Out Of Time thing here:

No other man could have survived so fantastic a voyage through time. And no other man could feel so displaced by time.

He was a man twenty years in his own future. By rights, he should be nearly fifty years old -- nearly twice the age of his fellow Avengers. Yet his mind and his body were not yet thirty.

When the Avengers had brought him back to New York with them and insisted that, as an honored hero of the past, he join them, he felt a sort of melancholy homesickness for his own time and world.

We then get a few paragraphs with the usual being sad that he let Bucky down and got him killed, and also that he misses his family, and that Steve Rogers doesn't exist anymore, and that nobody is alive who remembers him, and that war is hell.

Hey, Steve, maybe the drugs you should do are antidepressants. Just a thought.

Also, this book is 118 pages and we're not out of the origin story flashback until page 34. I think there are some pacing issues here.

Actually, I lied, the flashback keeps going, but now we're up to the Avengers finding him, and I have to say that the list of things Steve finds strange about the future is kind of charming when the future is 1968. Men have long hair! Women have shorter skirts! Everyone is kind of blasé about rocket launches because there have been so many space missions now. (Oh, come on, you haven't even landed on the moon yet, 1968! You're not that blasé.) Color TV! And, excitingly, LPs! You can now listen to 36 minutes of consecutive music. (I actually don't know what previous standard he's describing that is a ten-inch record that holds six minutes a side because I don't think 45s are that big. Yeah, no, I just checked and 45s are seven inches in diameter. Hmm. Oh, never mind. He means 78 rpm, doesn't he? In my defense, the record player my family had when I was a kid didn't play those.)

The description of Steve coming into New York for the first time is definitely written by someone who knows New York, which is fun. There is generally a lot of local flavor to the setting of this book. That’s one of the best parts.

There is a brief summary of Steve's feelings about all the Avengers -- he is most impressed by Thor, which, I mean, fair, he's an actual god -- and Hank telling him all about how he can live in Tony's mansion. With Jarvis. Who Hank says is actually from Flatbush. Apparently Steve spent a lot of time at the NYPL branch at 5th and 42nd trying to catch up on history. And then of course the Avengers ditched him and gave him the Kooky Quartet, and for some reason they're not here right now either so it's just Steve being sad and alone and dealing with this mysterious dead guy. I think probably the book is also done explaining fiat currency now. This is definitely the weirdest Marvel novel I've read.

Anyway, we have now returned to what is ostensibly the actual plot. Steve shows up at the New York Federal Reserve Bank (I guess the theft is happening here and not, like, at Fort Knox) with the gold bullion that the dead guy from the beginning of the book had on him -- I think I got distracted by the LSD bit and forgot to mention that part, but the dead guy was carrying some US government gold -- because the actual plot is that villains are trying to tunnel into the bank vault and steal gold. Steve discovers this after he gets the bank manager to give him a tour. The bank manager tries to refuse, citing security concerns -- Captain America could be anyone under that mask, after all! Steve just smiles and says, "If I removed my mask, would you have any better idea of who I am?" and I guess that's a flawless argument because he gets his tour.

(I'm sorry, all I can think of is that one gif from the JLA cartoon where Lex Luthor bodyswaps with the Flash, announces that now that he's in the Flash's body he's going to discover the Flash's secret identity, then pulls off his own mask, stares at himself in the mirror, and says, "I have no idea who this is.")

Given that the theme of Steve's interior life in this novel is "Steve Rogers died twenty years ago" it seems even more sad that Steve is just walking around basically saying, yeah, well, I'm nobody. And apparently that is being reaffirmed for him by the narrative.

So Steve goes down the tunnels, takes out some of the bad guys, and gets himself knocked out and buried in a collapsing tunnel. Don't worry, he's gonna be fine.

A lot of this book, by the way, is from the POV of random people, like this bank guard who went with Steve into the tunnels:

He had wondered, briefly, if a man like Captain America ever knew the pinch of too many bills, had ever felt desperate over the arrival of yet another mouth to feed. But, of course, Captain America had no family, and would hardly concern himself with such matters. It didn't occur to Thompson to wonder if this in itself might not be something for which to pity Captain America.

Rude. I mean, come on, do we really need random characters telling us Steve is a sad sack whom nobody loves? Steve's already got that covered! (Also, how does this guy know Captain America has no family?)

Anyway, thanks to the power of LSD, Steve is going into a trance, amping up his metabolism (he loses "several pounds" in a few minutes), and making himself super-strong so he can dig himself out. Hooray. This is definitely how human bodies work. Also LSD. This is definitely how LSD works. Yes.

Steve then finds out that a couple of the guards who were with him in the tunnels died down there and he goes home and eats dinner while stewing in miserable guilt because he was responsible for their deaths. He's really not okay. I'm not sure the book actually understands how not okay they have made him. Then someone from SHIELD is on the phone for him and he is briefly cheered up by the thought that it might be Sharon although I think we should also note that the narrative makes it clear that at this point in canon Steve still doesn't know her name. Remember when that was a thing?

Alas, it is not Sharon; it's just a random SHIELD agent who happens to have information about the plot and asks to meet. Then, as Steve leaves to go to the meeting, we get two pages of exhaustive description about the mansion layout and how it's built relative to the surrounding buildings. It feels like this book was written by a frustrated city planner. But anyway, the meeting is a setup and the villains capture Steve.

They knock Steve out, drug him, take him to their hideout, and tie him to a chair. Except, once again thanks to the power of LSD, the tranquilizer they're using wears off way sooner than they expected and so Steve feigns unconsciousness and listens to them discuss their evil plans.

And then the villains unmask him and I swear it's exactly like that JLA gif:

Rogers heard footsteps scuffing across a thick carpet, and then Sparrow's voice again, almost directly over him. His ears still buzzed, but he fought to catch the elusive familiarity of the man's tone. He wished he dared open his eyes.

"This is a moment which I, personally, have long awaited," Sparrow said, his voice rising in triumph. "*The unmasking of Captain America!*"

Then, his nails scraping along Rogers' face, Sparrow dug his fingers under his cowl, and ripped it back. Rogers felt air strike his exposed cheeks and forehead. Then fingers clutched his blond hair and pulled his head back. "Behold!" Sparrow said.

Raven was first to speak. "Well, I dunno about you, Sparrow, but it rings no bells with me. I never seen him before."

Starling agreed. "His face means nothing to me."

"He could be anybody," said Robin. "What good does this do?"

Sparrow let Rogers' head fall back to his chest, and his voice when he spoke was defeated. "I don't know. Nothing, I guess. I always wondered. I felt, if these guys -- these costumed heroes -- wore masks, it must mean something."

"Captain America was missing for twenty years," Starling said. "That could mean the first one died, and this one took his place. He looks awfully young."

"Perhaps. It doesn't really matter. Let's get going."

(Yes, the villains all have bird-themed codenames. I have no idea why.)

This scene just makes my day. I love dramatic unmaskings. I bet they'd have been a lot happier unmasking Iron Man.

The villains then leave Steve and go to a power plant, where we switch POVs to one of the plant employees and get two entirely unnecessary paragraphs about his racist and anti-Semitic thoughts about his coworkers before the villains murder him. Great. Thanks.

Anyway, the villains cause a blackout, while meanwhile they've left Steve alone with the girl villain, and Steve is busy trying to persuade her that crime doesn't pay. He's moved from the "do you know what they'll do to you in prison?" theme onto "how exactly are you going to spend a billion dollars in gold bullion when it's illegal for civilians to possess? who are you going to do business with?" and then points out that gold is heavy and hard to transport, which is when she gets out a a knife.

The bad guys are off to steal the gold, and Steve has now successfully turned the girl they left him with, because she frees him. Of course, the first thing he does is put the cowl back on.

"Why do you wear that?" she asked.

"The mask?" He smiled. "It gives people something external to concentrate upon."

"But..."

"Without it, I'm just another ordinary-looking man. With it, I become a symbol. For some people it creates awe; for others, fear. Look at me. I'm different now, aren't I? With the mask on."

"Yes," she nodded. "You look -- bigger, somehow. Stronger. Fierce, implacable. You look a little scary."

"Exactly. You no longer see me as a person, but as a thing -- an Avenger. It can be a potent psychological weapon."

"They were so disappointed, when they took your mask off. As though underneath they'd find a famous person."

"Maybe that goes on TV -- handsome playboys, and all that. But I've been anonymous all my life. Even my real name would be meaningless to you, to them. No, the mask is part of the uniform, a psychological device. That's the whole story.

Now: let's get out of here. You have a good deal more to tell me yet, and we can't waste more time."

Bwahaha. In a few years, Steve's going to be pretty surprised about who superheroes are, I think.

STEVE, now: Superheroes definitely aren't secretly handsome playboys! That would be silly! STEVE, after Molecule Man: fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK I'm such an idiot

I'm definitely looking forward to that.

Also, not that the issue of Steve's psyche actually recurs after this, but he's once again having the narrative vindicate his belief that Steve Rogers is dead and whoever he is under the cowl doesn't matter. Steve, I don't think this is very healthy.

Steve then tracks down the villains stealing the gold, has some geopolitical thoughts about where the gold could be going (he thinks either South Africa or Russia for the best laundering potential) and then hides himself in the villains' trunk while they drive to Staten Island, which is where they're taking the gold out of the country from.

During the final confrontation, Steve finally gets to see the villains, and he discovers that the one in charge is in fact the director of the Federal Reserve Bank who Steve met at the beginning of this book. Gasp. But that's not all! He's also... the Red Skull!

Honestly, I was kind of surprised; I didn't think this was the kind of book where we'd get any known comic villains, but I guess it's always gotta be the Red Skull. I think he's the only one of Steve's big villains who likes to disguise himself; Zemo has obvious disguise issues and I imagine it's also hard to cover up Zola's Teletubby-esque television body.

Steve shoots one of the villains, because I guess that's what he does in this era of canon.

So the plot wraps up in, like, two pages, because for some reason all these early Marvel novels wrap up very fast. Red Skull, of course, attempts to escape and then disappears and his body is never found. The end.

Well.

That was definitely a book. That I read. Believe it or not, I actually think it was the best of these early Marvel prose novels that I've read so far, even if it was also the absolute weirdest; I thought the thriller-style plot was entertaining, I liked Steve and his Extremely Sad characterization, I obviously enjoy all the identity themes, I liked how very detailed the New York setting was, and I do like how they tried to treat it all seriously. I mean, sure, this did lead to LSD in the super-soldier serum in presumably the name of realism, but I felt like the book was trying to present superheroes in a way that didn't feel silly and also didn't really take for granted that the reader would automatically accept superheroes.

It felt like a book that was written hoping that people who weren't superhero fans would read it, if that makes any sense. And I thought that was interesting, because most modern superhero work that I can think of assumes they've got complete audience buy-in and everyone is willing to suspend their disbelief and we all know the genre conventions and are expecting people running around in brightly-colored spandex. Whereas this is more like a James Bond novel if for some reason James Bond were called upon to defend his decision to wear brightly-colored spandex instead of bespoke suits. But I assume no one read it, because Bantam never published a Marvel book after this one.

If you can actually find a copy of this one for a price you're willing to pay. I recommend it. It was delightful and way more solid than I thought it was going to be.

Also, come on, you know you want to read about Captain America's acid trip.

#posts i actually wrote

34 notes · View notes

dinosaurtsukki · 3 years

Text

[ flu season in E minor ]

pairing: fyodor dostoevsky x gn!reader

word count: 2.2k words

contains: uni!au, sigma and nikolai as your bff’s, gn!reader, music student!fyodor, fyodor being a bit of a brat while he’s sick, slight pining/crushing, idk just fluffy shit

summary: you and fyodor are both in the university theater club but you rarely ever see him except for when you’re picking up the musical compositions he makes for the play. this time, however, you come over to his apartment to find him sick with the flu

a/n: uhhh this is kind of a trainwreck cause i was literally just ‘omg uni!au fyodor sickfic’ and then went with it :P

“don’t forget to drink your vitamin c guys! flu season is already here and if you’re down with the flu please don’t come in and spread your germs everywhere,” sigma instructed at the ending of the cast meeting. even though he sounded snappy while saying it, you could tell he meant well. two of your actors in the theatre club had already come down with the flu and with showtime coming up soon, everyone was understandably extra careful.

“y/n, one last thing,” sigma called you over as everyone prepared to leave.

“in case you were going to ask, yes, i took my vitamins already,” you teased skipping over to where he was.

“not funny,” sigma rolled his eyes. “i was wondering if you could follow up with fyodor on the music for the next scene? he doesn’t respond at all to any non-physical communication, i already left him ten messages.”

“ooh, another visit to the phantom of the opera’s apartment,” nikolai popped up right at your shoulder.

“seriously? you guys call him that?” sigma raised a disappointed eyebrow at you two.

“well he’s mysterious and makes music in a theatre.”

“i feel like you should actually watch phantom of the opera before making that claim,” you told him. “also sure,” you shrugged nonchalantly to hide your obvious excitement. “i have time to drop by.”

even though he’s a part of the theatre club, fyodor dostoevsky was pretty much an enigma to the rest of the members. his contributions to the club activities were mainly in the form of the musical compositions he created for the plays. however, because he was always busy practicing for upcoming recitals apart from his music classes, fyodor rarely ever attended rehearsals.

but on the off-chance that he did drop by in a rehearsal to discuss with sigma or attend a cast meeting, you’d spend the entire time just... admiring him. everything from the calm and articulate way he spoke to messy way his hair framed his face. and on that day when fyodor decided to demonstrate the music by playing it himself on his cello, you realized you were head over heels for this man.

and so you, practically jumped at every chance you got to pick up sheet music or recordings from fyodor’s apartment. you already set the expectation that you wouldn’t be around for long. and you were right about that... usually.

...

“fyodor? hello?” you knocked on the door for what was probably the fifth time already. it was freezing cold outside and you were desperate to get in. pressing your ear against the door, you heard a weak voice say ‘come in. door’s open’ and then tentatively, you unlocked the door.

whenever you saw fyodor, he was always wearing a clean, button-up shirt and slacks since he was also at orchestra practice. so of course, it was a complete shock to you to come into his apartment to find fyodor dressed in bright red pajamas with a mickey mouse logo on the center of his shirt with a colorful patchwork quilt thrown across his shoulders. not to mention, he was seated in his couch with sheet music and tissues strewn around him.

upon closer look, you could tell from his sunken eyes and slightly red nose that flu season had struck fyodor.

“oh, y/n, it’s you,” he sniffled as you hesitated near the door. “come in. it’s cold out.”

“are you alright?” you asked, approaching fyodor. because you had gotten the flu a bit earlier that month, you weren’t too concerned about catching it again. “you look, well, sick.”

“just a cold,” fyodor waved his hand. “anyway, did sigma send you for something?”

“he’s asking for a follow-up with the music for the new scene,” you remembered.

“oh, that...” fyodor nodded, frowning as he searched the sheet music scattered around him. “i’m sure it’s around here somewhere and... i forgot to do it.” fyodor sighed at the realization. “don’t worry. i’ll just whip something up real quick,” he sniffed before picking up a blank piece of sheet music.

“well you don’t have to right now. fyodor, you’re sick. you should get some rest before working,” you sat down on the couch as fyodor bent over the coffee table with a pencil ready. “i mean, no offense but i doubt you can come up with anything in your current state.”

“nonsense, y/n,” fyodor scoffed and began to scribble something on the page. “i am a trained classical musician. composing is merely second-nature to someone like myself. why, i’m sure i have a melody coming along right--”

“fyodor.”

“yes?”

“you just wrote the letter g on the corner of the page and then started drawing random squiggles.”

fyodor looked down at his squiggled-over sheet music with a completely deadpan expression and stared at it for a good ten seconds. “i thought it was a g-clef,” he whispered to himself.

“do you... want me to help you to your room?” you asked softly. fyodor sniffed.

“yes please.”

...

when you headed out to his apartment earlier that morning, you didn’t expect to be taking care of a sick fyodor for the rest of the afternoon. for someone who always looked put-together and composed, fyodor was terrible at taking care of himself. even after coming down with the flu a few days ago, he still insisted on practicing the cello in his apartment. and, judging by the empty cans in the sink, you could tell that all he was eating was instant soup.

and, sick fyodor was kind of... whiny. it took a lot of convincing on your part for him to agree not to work on the compositions in bed, or practice his bowing. he complained about his pillows ‘not being plump enough’ and that his socks didn’t match (because he didn’t do the laundry).

“i don’t think i’ll even be able to sleep at this rate, y/n. my head is spinning but i’m not nearly tired enough to sleep. maybe i’ll drift off for just a bit but it won’t be that restful,” fyodor said, laying down on his not-plump pillows before he was out like a light five minutes after.

“drift off for just a bit, huh?” you chuckle slightly to yourself as you watch him. fyodor was curled up on his side, hugging one of the pillows with his blanket wrapped tightly around him.

you were definitely in a strange situation being in your crush’s house while he was sick in bed. there wasn’t really a need for you to stay; you could just leave some medicine on the nightstand and a note with instructions.

“mmm... key needs to be in e minor,” fyodor mumbled in his sleep before turning over on his side. you bit back a laugh for fear of waking him up.

‘what the heck? i’ll stay and make him some actual soup,’ you ultimately decided.

...

fyodor woke up to the smell of something delicious cooking, and that was something he rarely woke up to. aside from the fact that he could actually smell out of his currently unclogged nose, fyodor felt much better than he had been in a while.

‘y/n must still be here,’ was his next thought after waking up. and he must admit, that was very reassuring to know. fyodor didn’t have the best constitution and whenever flu season rolled around, he expected being sick for a length of time.

after wrapping the blanket around himself, fyodor curiously crept into the kitchen to find you standing over at the stove, stirring something in a pot while humming to yourself. there was a bag of groceries on the counter too. ‘did they... buy me food?’

he coughed slightly to get your attention.

“oh, fyodor. you’re up,” you turned around, smiling at him. “how are you feeling?”

“a bit... better,” he confessed, fully aware that he said all those things about not being asleep before embarrassingly falling asleep for two hours.

“great! soup’s going to be ready in a few minutes. if you freeze it you’ll have enough for a few days,” you added. “also bought some oranges. they should be good for you.”

“you... don’t really have to do this you know?” fyodor ended up blurting out, except it sounded a bit harsh. “i mean, i’m sure you went through all the trouble.”

“don’t worry about it,” you waved him off. “you’ve been working really hard so i get that you don’t think of yourself much. let me do this one thing for you as a friend,” you smiled.

“also, i’m genuinely concerned at the amount of canned soup you’ve been consuming.”

“canned soup isn’t that bad for you,” fyodor insisted.

“yeah, and i’m sure you enjoy that metallic aftertaste quite a lot,” you quipped. fyodor opened his mouth to retort something before closing it abruptly. the knowing smirk on your face only made him glance away. instead, he busied himself with retrieving the clean bowls, luckily there were two left, from the dishrack and setting them on the table. you were humming again while you turned off the stove before serving the soup.

“chicken noodle soup, huh?” fyodor couldn’t help but chuckle.

“a classic,” you shrugged with a smile. “it’s a secret family recipe too so it’s bound to get you to feel better.”

“you’re making it up, aren’t you?”

“yeah, i got it off the internet,” you giggled. fyodor chuckled and took a sip of the soup. it was deliciously hot and flavorful and best of all, the soup didn’t have a metallic aftertaste.

“after eating, you can take some of medicine that i bought in case you have a headache or body pain, as long as you didn’t take any four hours before.”

“what?” fyodor blinked at you.

“you know, don’t take the medicine within four hours of each other,” you explained slowly. “also it’s better that you drink some now that you’ve eaten.”

fyodor not-so vaguely recalled all those times he drank medicine on an empty stomach and feeling even more sick after. “i... was not aware of that,” he admitted. you sighed with your eyes closed.

“i’m amazed you’re still alive.”

...

“so, flu season struck the phantom of the opera, huh?” nikolai sighed after you told him about your weekend.

“yeah,” you nodded, remembering the sight of fyodor on the couch dressed in his pajamas with a blanket wrapped around him. that was going to be burned in your mind for a long time. “he’s... kind of terrible at taking care of himself.”

“that’s fyodor for you,” sigma added. the three of you had arrived at the backstage area of the theatre early and were busying yourselves with sorting through the various props that you had. “you know, one time he even went to a recital with a 39-degree fever. practically collapsed when he was off-stage.”

“i’ll one-up that story,” nikolai practically sprang off the box he was sitting on. “okay, so there was this one time i came over to fyodor’s’apartment while he was sick and he was so delirious he--”

“you guys do know that it’s rude to talk about people when they’re not there.”

the three of you practically spun around at the same time to find fyodor leaning against the doorframe of the backstage entrance with his arms crossed. he was looking way better than last time you saw him.

“fyodor,” sigma blinked, clearly stunned. “you’re... you’re here.”

“you’re alive!” nikolai cried dramatically, skipping over to fyodor and flinging his arms around fyodor who showed obvious discomfort.

“of course i am,” he scoffed. “thanks in part to y/n.”

hearing that made your face flush a bit. “i-it was nothing,” you stammered, dodging nikolai’s curious stare.

“anyway, i finished the compositions for the next scene,” fyodor strode forward, handing sigma a folder of sheet music and a flash drive. “let me know if it’s to your liking.”

“thank you. i’ve been having director’s block with that one. this should help,” sigma sighed gratefully. “i’ll give it a listen if you don’t mind.” and before you could say anything else, he scurried out to the stage area.

“and i’m going to leave for some arbitrary reason just so you two would have some alone time,” nikolai snickered at the indignant expression on your face before leaving you and fyodor alone backstage.

“oh, nikolai. always... funny,” you laughed nervously.

“indeed,” fyodor nodded. “i only have the vaguest idea of what’s been going on during rehearsals. i should probably come around more often.”

“oh, we understand that you’re busy and all. but you’ve already been helping a lot with composing the music so don’t sweat it if you feel like you haven’t been active,” you said.

“well, that’s not the only reason i want to come around more often,” fyodor’s eyes flickered up to meet yours and you felt your face heat up again. god, it was so much easier to talk to to him and joke around when he was sick with the flu.

“in any case, i’m glad you feel better now,” you cleared your throat. “i hope the soup helped.”

“it did. i was sad to see it run out,” fyodor chuckled. and before you could even consider what it was you were going to say, you went and blurted out:

“i could make it for you again.”

“oh?” fyodor’s eyebrows flew up and a smirk played on his lips.

“i-if you want to of course,” you stammered.

“i’d like that,” fyodor smiled, much to your surprise. “if you could update me on rehearsals and the play we’re doing, that would be great. how does friday sound?”

“friday sounds great.”

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @atsumusdomain @laure-chan @goodfoodxoxoxo @guardianangelswings @ah-kaashi @amberalisa @whootwhoot @liz-multifandom-hotel @kac-chowsballs @violentfarewll @fyoyacanruinmylifethanks

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor #bungou stray dogs fanfic #bsd fanfic #bungou stray dogs fluff #bsd fluff #bungou stray dogs uni au #bsd uni au #bungou stray dogs one-shot #bsd one-shot #bungou stray dogs writing #bsd writing

133 notes · View notes

imonthinice · 3 years

Text

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 12/?

Word Count: 4.4k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your Name, A/N - Any Name (Your Best friend’s name)

God idk what i’m doing with this but i’m liking it lmao

next one might honestly be smut idk

Warnings: Violence, Swearing, Description of Blood, Gets heated, hints at trauma, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Y/N walked through the streets of Gotham, which were once bustling with people, but now were quiet with the occasional hooker, she had caught the city as an unlively hour, where it seemed to sleep the night away while the vigilantes of the area watched it like their lives depended on it. In some ways it did, the stories they would tell when being interviewed were horrific sometimes, but Y/N figured a decent amount of it was for dramatization, to keep the people of Gotham off of the streets to protect them all from it.

The question was always protect them from what, and they never answered. So, it never kept the people of Gotham at bay from the streets at night, and had Y/N’s car not been towed, she would have been driving home in the safe, secluded area of her car, not the vast wilderness of the streets of Gotham.

She looked up at the sky to see one of the virgate boys using a grappling hook to fly to the other building, which was such a sight to behold for someone who never witnessed a superhero beyond Superman at home. She wished and longed to know more about the vigilante, but didn’t dwell or dote on that man, because she didn’t need to.

Something told her that he was watching though, tracing every step she made to make sure she got home in one piece. She thought she was crazy, her life didnt matter more than anyone else in Gotham. He’s not following me, why would he? she thought, Even though I’m dating Jason Todd, they probably don’t know Jason, so my life doesn’t mean much more to them than any one of the hookers along this street. I’m overthinking it.

The walk home took two hours, she left Jason’s at 4am just to find herself back home at 6am, bright and early as the sun rose, ready to greet the day and all it had in store for everyone. But the things it had in store for Y/N was a class and if she was lucky, cuddling with Jason. Nothing more, nothing less.

She would open her front door, unscathed from the journey home, except maybe for a few callouses on her feet, it was the last time she wouldn't pay for more than a day of parking, that’s for sure. Heels were not the shoes you wanted for a two-hour walk home in the Autumn cold, but they were what she had.

She thought about what she was going to do next, and the first thought she had was to shower. Not because she needed to, but because she wanted to nurse the terrible headache she had and to think some things through. What she normally did in the shower.

She wanted so much more from so much of her life. the main offender of seemingly not being enough for her was Jason. Not because she didn’t want more, but because she craved more from him. He was injured, so she wouldn’t get much more rom him for the time being, and it stung a little for her. She just wanted him, maybe sexually, maybe in a more romantic setting or maybe just on her couch on a Thursday afternoon. It was all three of those options and she knew it.

She pulled out of the shower and looked at the time, 6:50am. Okay, she thought, little more time than I wanted to spend in the shower, but I guess the universe had different plans for me today. What else do you have for me, universe? And how much of you plan involves Jason?

She would open her phone after quickly getting dressed. While she still cared for her appearance, she didn’t want to dress like she owned a law firm every day, so she didn’t. Just black jeans and a black top and she felt like a million bucks.

Just some quick outfit inspo. I like doing these a lot. I think fashion is funky :))

Artemis had sent her a message asking where she was at around 4am, she wondered why the time, but she then remembered that Artemis’ boyfriend worked with Dick Grayson, who was Jason’s brother, who worked most nights until radical hours of the night. The chances that he saw her on her two-hour walk home was high, but the chances that that had also made it back to Jason was higher. She knew she was in for it.

Hey sorry, I was at Jason’s. Fell asleep in his arms the whole shebang. And yeah, that was me who screamed the yo momma joke at the press. It was super childish, I know, but I don’t care. Those fucks are sucking my life force out of me and harassing my boyfriend, even your boyfriend.

She would then look at the articles calling her a gold digger and worth-nothing childish insulter of the press. She laughed. If the press wanted a fight from her, she was more than willing to oblige and load the canons.

She didn’t know how to fight back that well, since it was a mainly verbal fight, and she barely even knew how to fight physically, hence all the running and non-confrontational arguments she had had to the press.

And like fucking clockwork, Jason texted her.

Did you walk home alone or are my brothers lying bastards?

I walked. I knew someone saw me, fuck.

Why did you walk home? I thought you drove here?

I did, but we spent more than 12 hours together Jason. I didn’t buy enough hours, suddenly my car was being towed.

You could have asked for a ride home from Alfred! He would have in a heartbeat.

I was going to! But I got distracted and it all became a blur and suddenly I was part of the way home in the dark by myself!

What if you had gotten hurt?

Well, I saw one of the vigilantes of the city on the rooftops, I’m sure if I screamed they would have seen me. They always do see that stuff.

So, your car got towed huh?

Yeah, I don’t know when I’ll be able to pay it off. It’s not exactly like money my parents give me should go to my car getting towed because I got fucked over by seeing my boyfriend.

You’ll figure it out. Sorry about the car, that’s got to suck fucking ass.

You think? I’m stuck taking the fuckin’ subway till I get my car back. I hate the subway, too many people. Far too many people. Too many eyes. It gets stressful really quickly. Might just walk every where honestly, I can’t deal with the eyes of strangers.

But you’re a C-list celebrity.

Internet is different. I can just block the bad eyes and move on with my life, you should see my block list now that some people are connecting my name to the girl who flipped off the press, thank god Twitter has a fuckin block feature.

You should really just meet my family so you don’t have to run away before they get home, would probably cause you a lot less financial stress, Y/N.

I’ll think about it.

You should think a little harder about it. I don’t want you to get your car impounded ‘cause you’re seeing me, why did you even park in pay-to-park?

Did you not see the massive mob trying to get to you? It was impossible for me to even try to pull into the driveway. Hence why I’m being insulted, you know, ‘cause I yelled at the press to get them to leave me alone. I fucking hate the press, you’re stabbed, severely injured last time they got information, and they’re harassing me, asking me what I like to do on the weekends.

Fucking vultures. Yeah, I’ve seen that. I’ve read the articles. But that’s the press for you, absolute trash and spitting bullshit in everyway.

Fucking hate the press, that’s for damn sure. Despise them. I won’t ever change that, even if, knock on wood, we break up.

Praying we don’t break up so I can see you lose your shit at the press when you’re bored.

She would get up to go make some coffee, since it was closer to 7:20am and if her roommate woke up, she could just tell her to get up anyway.

The press can suck my dick. she said.

You have a dick?

Oh yeah. Massive. 20ft long. It probably won’t even fit all the vultures.

Oh my god, that’s not as big as mine.

lmfao is it now?

Oh yeah.

Nice.

Anyway, my brothers are staying home from school today, I think they’re making me play Resident Evil 8 with them? You know that game?

Of course. Everyone in that game is infinitely hot.

Are you bi?

I don’t know. Haven't thought that far ahead to actually label myself. I just like people. Sometimes it’s men, sometimes it’s women. But you have to agree when you see them all. That game came out when I was still in high school, so I’ve played the entire thing. My phone background is actually one of the characters.

Which one?

I’ll show you if I come over tonight.

My brothers might be in my room, though.

Okay, but, RE8 is an amazing game. So, worth it.

You won’t meet them normally but I pull out a game you love and you’re down?

I’m very easy to convince.

You still have notes to write when you come over though.

Oh yeah, I was probably going to have to come over both ways, just because I need those notes and you do too.

Do you not own a printer?

I barely even own a laptop, I’m waiting for my old one to come in the mail.

How do you even manage?

With a whole lot of will and spite, anything is possible.

And that’s when her discord group chat @’ed her. She was on Do Not Disturb because she was Jason, and apparently they missed her.

Y/N! C’mere. One said.

Yes? Whatduhya want nerds?

We’ve decided to hold a fake internet wedding between you and Christopher. Another said.

A what.

We’re getting married!

Sometimes I wish I never left Metropolis and then I remember you fucks live there. Why are we doing this? You do know I have a boyfriend right? She asked them.

I don’t know, we’re bored and we miss you. We can have a bachelorette party in Gotham, if you want.

I’m this close to going back on DND.

The group chat was made way back when they had all first met in grade 9 and had been active ever since. They all had stayed in the city when they graduated though, but since Y/N received a scholarship, fully paid for, she took the opportunity and jumped.

They were some of her closest friends, even if they lived in a different city to her now, even if they were all busy with school, even if she was busy with school and a boyfriend, A lot of her life wouldn’t be complete without her crack friends in her hometown.

They had all ben partying like crazy while she was gone, and if she wasn’t so hung up in her own life, she’d probably be down there with them.

Before you do, can you please explain why you’re screaming at the press, lmao.

Because fuck the press, dude. Why else?

What did they do to you?

Have you seen the recent articles?

That’s true.

She laughed and finished her coffee. Jason had not responded yet, she assumed his brothers were either checking on him or they had started the game. It was around 8am when A/N finally left her room.

“I thought you were staying with Jason?”

“I was, but then I remembered he has like 9 siblings and I’m not about to meet them all. Then I walked home.”

“You walked?”

“Car got towed.”

“Fuck, can you afford the bill? I can’t.”

“Nope.”

“Guess we’re going to take the subway for a while, huh.”

She sighed and put her cup in the sink, “At least you don’t have school to go to and your lover comes to meet you, I have shit to do and places to be,” she frowned, “Inconvenient.”

“Could you borrow money from Jason’s dad?”

“I don’t borrow money from family, it’s hard enough for me to accept the money my parents send me.”

“I know it is, when’s your class?”

“3pm, I’ll be leaving at 12pm though, because the subway is unreliable.”

“This is going to be a hard hit for us.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s fucking your credit. Mine’s tanking.”

“You’ll pull through it.”

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

She got onto the subway at 12:30pm. She really hated the way it was running. The people, the faces, the staring eyes of unwanted attention. People knew who she was and she hated it. She didn’t like the attention, she just liked the fucking with people. She wanted to get off the subway the minute she got on.

She eventually couldn’t take it and got off a few stops away, there was still a substantial walk towards the college, but she knew it would be. She even brought a leather jacket with her so that she could walk if she couldn’t take it anymore.

And there she was, in the busy streets of Gotham, walking to her college. Barely aware of the people who did stare at her, because she just kept walking, lost in her thought but aware of the people in her trail, the cross walks and the lights she was waiting for occasionally. She just kept walking until Artemis met up with her,

“Hey! I didn’t know you were walking to school today,” Artemis said.

“Oh! I didn’t want to, my car got towed though.”

“Your car got towed? That sucks so much. Well, we’re going the same way, so I’ve decided I’m going to walk with you, you get no say.”

“Of course. I was going to ask if you wanted to,” she laughed, “It’s more fun with a friend anyway, Art.”

“So, how are things with you and Jason, I’m legally obliged to ask as one of his friends.”

“Well, we made it official if that’s the kind of thing you want to hear,” she laughed again, “I’m sure it’s the answer Dick will eat up.”

“You’re right about that one. Dick’s a sucker for a romantic story, you should write one, since you write. He’d probably read it all.”

“Well, that would be fun, but I still don’t have my laptop.”

“You could use Jason’s?” Artemis suggested..

“Nah. It’ll be fine,” she said, “I’ll manage.”

“Aren’t you collecting notes for him for your psychology class?”

“I am, it’s not like he can go anywhere. I actually told him he’d need to walk eventually so that it’s not a learning curve when he’s healed.”

“That’s what all of us are telling him too, he’s a stubborn man, good luck with that one,” Artemis laughed, “He’s always been the stubborn friend. Worse than Will, actually, and Will is really bad with being stubborn.”

“It’s fine,” she laughed, “If you asked any of my Metropolis friends they’d say the same about me.”

“I bet you were quite the wild child in your heyday back in your city,” Artemis laughed, “I hate Metropolis.”

“Who doesn’t? It’s so crowded.”

“Uh, Clark doesn’t. He thrives there, no idea why, he grew up in Smallville. If anyone should be uncomfortable with Metropolis it should be the small-city country boy, but I guess it’s his thing.”

“I forget you know everyone.”

“We know a lot of people, are you’re slowly being let into our massive circle of very well-known people. Welcome to the group, I guess,” she laughed, “You'll either hate or love the fame that comes from this.”

“Well, if its paparazzi and press, I think I’ll hate it.”

“I can promise you right now that it’s not all paparazzi and press, we haven’t been bothered today, probably because we are on the move.”

“You shouldn’t say that, you’ll jinx it.”

“I know a lot about not jinxing it, but that’s a story for another time,” Y/N noticed that when Artemis said this her eyes glazed over and she looked upset.

“You don’t ever have to talk to me about something you’re not ready to talk about,” Y/N reassured her.

“Hey, the trauma makes me funny.”

“Two can play that game.”

They would ramble on for the rest of the walk to their college. Nothing really of substance, just getting to know each other further. She was glad she found a friend in Artemis, it would have sucked if the two of them didn’t get along, but with each word they exchanged, they had so much fun.

She even told Artemis about that time she played Katherine Howard in her school’s budget play of Six - The Musical. She was proud of the riffs she was able to do, but she didn’t talk about it often. She was never the type of brag about her achievements, no matter how amazing they were.

But Artemis and Y/N parted ways and Y/N went to her class and wrote the same, boring, scribbly and barely legible notes. She figured eventually she’d need nicer handwriting, but did she want to work on it? No.

When she finished, she saw Artemis and who she could only assume to be Wally, at Artemis’ class doors. She waved to Artemis, before Artemis called her over.

“Y/N! Hey, I would ask how class is, but this is Wally,” she gestured to the red-head boy beside her, and Y/N held out her hand to shake Wally’s.

“Hi, Wally.”

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you since Jason can’t shut up about you and my girlfriend likes you a lot.”

“Well that's sweet of you Artemis. You’re just so in love with me,” Y/N joked.

“Girl. You know it,” Artemis joked back.

“You two already have a close bond? That’s impressive,” Wally said, “Never seen anyone win over any of my friends this quickly,” he muttered.

They joked for a little while longer, just getting to know Wally before she had to go, she had to get to Jason’s.

The walk was a while away, so she went and sat on a park bench for a minute to check her phone, Jason had texted her.

Hey baby, are you coming over?

I am, yes. I actually just met Wally.

You met Wally and I wasn’t there to see it? C’mon.

Artemis introduced us! Go yell at her.

Oh. Never mind. I won’t do that.

Ha! Scared of her?

Maybe a little, she can be scary, okay?

You can’t tell but I’m laughing at you.

Dhmu.

That’s fine, I’ll just go hang out with Alfred and not you. He seems like he would be spiteful like me.

That’s unfair.

I thought you said don’t hit me up?

Fuck.

Checkmate.

I am upset.

No you’re not.

No I’m not.

She would walk down the street further, maybe within a couple steps to reach the Manor, when a man dragged her into an alleyway. She yelped.

“Uh, hello? Can I help you?” she asked, pretending she wasn’t terrified.

“How much would Bruce give me for you?” the attacker mumbled before he tried to knock her to the ground, but she had another plan.

He grabbed her, put his face close to hers, and she head-butted him, he would stumble back, and she started running to the Manor.

“Come here you fucking bitch!” he screamed. She could feel her nose bleeding as she ran and ran, the security saw her and pulled her into the gateway before drawing their guns and urging her to run to the steps of the Manor.

And she ran. The security at the door saw her and let her in, and yelled for Alfred.

“What is this nonsense, oh,” Alfred paused when he saw the blood running out of Y/N’s nose, “Miss Y/N, what happened to you?�� he asked before grabbing her hand and pulling her into the entry-way bathroom and opening a first-aid kit.

“Okay so, what happened was I was walking to the Manor because my car got towed right? And this fucking bastard dude pops out from an alleyway and pulls me into it, asks some bullshit about how much Bruce would pay for me, when he grabbed me and tried to knock me down, when I head-butted him and started running,” she said, completely unphased.

Alfred didn’t respond to her and started to stop the bleeding when Bruce called for him, “In the entry-way bathroom, Master Wayne!” he answered.

Bruce came around the corner and saw Alfred was already tending to Y/N, “Well, this is the event where I meet my son’s girlfriend, when she is bleeding and running from a strange man in an alleyway.”

“Heh, sorry,” she said and outstretched her hand to shake his, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Bruce.”

“I can tell you’re going to be quite the addition to this household,” he said as he took her hand and shook it, “As long as you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.”

“That’s good. I guess you can’t get mad at Jase for being a reckless man now.”

“I really can’t.”

“Alright, you should be good, Miss Y/N.”

“Thank you, Alfred. But you really didn’t have to.”

“I’ve been taking care of 5 boys and 3 girls since most of them were little, Miss Y/N. A little blood is really no big deal for me to handle.”

“That’s obvious.”

“You can go see the boys now, they’re going to ask you though,” Bruce said.

“I know.”

She walked to Jason’s room, hoping that he wouldn’t have all of his siblings in the room, he did though.

“Hey, Y/N- what the fuck happened to you?” Jason exclaimed when she opened the door.

“Oh great, all your siblings are here. Anyway, I guess,” she paused, taking in a big breath so she could run through the events quickly, “So I was walking here ‘cause my car got towed, right? When some fucking bastard man grabs me and yanks me into an alleyway and starts going off about how much Bruce will pay him to get me back or something,” she paused again, “And when he tried to knock me down by getting really close and personal to my face, like an idiot I should add, I head-butted him.”

“You did what?’

“I’m not done yet, met your dad when I actually had blood running out of my nose because that's just my fucking luck. Okay, now you can be disappointed in me,” she joked.

“I will say again, you did what?”

“Something stupid?” she said.

“You could say that again, my god, what went through your head?”

“Uh, nothing. Just survival. Fight or flight but I head-butted a man, and hi, everyone.”

“Hi, Y/N, I’m Dick,” Dick said, “You clearly are meant for Jason,” he joked, “That's something he would do.”

“Don’t encourage her, Dick!”

Stephanie got up and greeted her, “You know, Y/N, I always wanted a crazy sister,” she joked, “I’m Stephanie, the black-haired girl is Cass, and the red-head is Barbara.”

“Me too,” Cass hopped onto the joke.

“It’s something else when you meet the girl your brother is dating after she head-butted a man, apparently,” Y/N laughed, “I know it’s far-fetched-”

“Not really,” Tim cut her off, “You know Jason protected Will when they were attacked?”

“That’s Tim, by the way,” Dick said.

“So you can’t yell at me for head-butting a man!” Y/N joked at Jason while going to sit beside him, he slinged an arm around her shoulder and leant his head into her head.

“Well, you seem like a nice enough girl,” Barbara said, “Take away the reckless behavior, and you are lovely.”

“That is valid, to be honest. Not exactly the way you want to meet your brother’s girlfriend.”

“You think?” Jason asked, sarcastically.

“Ha ha.”

“See, she thinks I’m funny, why can’t you fucks?”

Y/N laughed and then asked Dick, who was playing RE8 at the time, staring at the photo of Donna Bentiveno, “She’s cute, isn’t she, Dick?”

“Have I been staring?”

“Let’s just say Angie is probably very pissed at you.”

“Oh! Whoops. There’s a point to this, I forgot.”

“I don’t blame you, I remember forgetting there was a point and the little bitch devil doll would attack you.”

“Language.”

“Oh no, you’re lame. Gross.”

“Excuse me?” Dick asked as the rest of the room erupted in laughter.

“Do you guys see why I like her now?” Jason asked.

“Uh no, she’s mean,” Dick said.

“You’re going to die if you don’t start paying attention, Dick,” Y/N said.

“Oh!” and he died.

“And that kids, is why we listen to the person who’s 100%’ed the game.”

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

Y/N and Jason would spend hours with his brothers and sisters until the sun started to set and they all scattered to their own rooms to do their own things. you can’t keep a lot of kids in one room for so long.

Once everyone left, Y/N placed her hands on Jason and kissed him, she was actually able to be laid on his pillow, he was able to pin her to the bed. And they did just that. He was on top of her, using his one arm to prop himself up and using his other hand to touch her face.

Her hands found their way into his hair like they always did, she found a lot of joy in playing with his hair. Their tongues danced together, they never fought or anything, they just enjoyed each other when Jason let out a small moan and she let out a small laugh.

“Keep it in your pants, Tiger,” she joked, “You’re not fully healed.”

“You literally smashed your face into another man but I can’t moan when I kiss you?”

“Because I know you want more.”

“Hell yeah I do,” he said as he went back for more, actually using his strength to keep her to the bed, but she didn’t protest this time.

33 notes · View notes

sgtbradfords · 3 years

Note

Sorry your getting a ton of prompts off of me 🙈

Can you write a version of SE2E11

But slightly different

Caleb is a tech wiz and hacks the police computers

They think Lucy is just running late, they’re in roll call and the screen flickers on and it’s a live video of and unconscious Lucy strapped to a table getting her Day of Death tattoo

And basically it’s plays out similar, but they see her nearly escape they see her being forced into the barrel, and they have the live feed of her inside the barrel

Alright anon, first off thank your for your patience the past couple of weeks. I hope this does your request justice. Enjoy! :)

The only thing that Lucy Chen wanted to do was go home, unwind and crawl into bed. But according to her training officer she needed to go out, blow off some steam, in order to forget about the long and restless day they had endured. She thought over his words as she changed, reluctantly deciding he was right as she fished her phone out of the front pocket of her jeans, pulling up her social media messaging app, scrolling through before finding who she wanted, pressing his contact.

“Hey.” She said into her phone. “I know it’s late, but do you want to go get a drink?”

“I’d love to.” He said with a smile in his voice. “Want to meet back at Las Torres?”

“See you in twenty.” She told him, hanging up.

Caleb Wright was someone that Lucy never expected to stumble upon, let alone a person who found her somewhat worthy of being flirted with. It started when she met him while waiting at the counter of the bar, words and flirtation coming easily. Though she was not very forthcoming until the last minute about her occupation, she found him to be intriguing, and was surprised when he showed up at the station just to give her his number. She spent days playing the should she, shouldn’t she game which resulted in Lucy cyberstalking him on his social media pages.

Tim scolded her for not being on task as she sat next to him in the shop, scrolling through his Instagram and scoffed when he caught her later in the day watching a video of him playing with his dog, making sure to tell her that it probably wasn’t even his dog as she rolled her eyes at him. But, her training officer was also the first person to officially meet him, Tim going as far as to intimidate and question Caleb when the man visited the precinct, before he reluctantly handed over the number he had taken out of Lucy’s hands.

---

“Hey, have you seen Lucy?” Jackson West asked John Nolan as he walked out of the locker room. “She didn’t come home last night.”

“She’s a grown woman. Why, you worried?”

“No. Yes. A little? It’s just- she didn’t come home last night.”

Thinking that their friend may just be running late, the two rookie officers headed to roll call, taking their seats at the front.

“Where’s Chen?” Tim asked as he walked into the room, noticing his missing boot.

“We don’t know, she had a date last night and never came home.”

Alarm bells began ringing in Tim’s head as John turned around in his chair, asking his training officer, Nyla Harper if Lucy was in the locker room. The detective’s response sent chills up Tim’s spine. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts to find hers. The phone ringing continuously before going to voicemail.

“Something’s not right.” Tim said, hanging up before quickly walking back out of the room and into the bullpen. “Sergeant.” He said as he approached their superior. “Chen’s missing.”

“What do you mean Officer Bradford?”

“My boot is missing sir. Nolan and West have not been able to reach her, and I just tried her cell myself.”

Nolan spoke first. “She had a date last night.”

“And she never came home.” Inputted Jackson.

“A date? Did she go out with that guy, the one she met at the bar?” asked Tim. “Caleb… Wright, with a W.”

Jackson recalled her plans. “Yeah, she was headed to meet up with him when we walked out together last night, about 8:30? We haven’t heard from her since.”

“If she comes in late and we sound the alarm, she’ll be in more trouble than what it’s worth.” John pointed out.

“Her phone could be dead.” Mentioned the Sergeant.

“No.” spoke Tim, shooting the suggestion down. “I just called it and it rang before going to voicemail. She also keeps it fully charged with a charger in her bag.”

“She could be stuck in traffic or maybe she’s overslept and is still at his place.”

John and Jackson spoke together. “No, Lucy doesn’t do one-night stands.”

“This guy, Caleb Wright, he came by the station yesterday, gave her his number.” Tim told the other officers.

“What else do we know about him?”

“Nothing.” Said Jackson.

“I met him yesterday, he told me he works for a medical supply company. She watched a video of him playing with a puppy.” Tim told them as they gave him an incredulous look. “Chen was checking out his social media page.”

Grey shifted on his feet. “Bradford, take West and go run this guy’s name through NCIC and LAPD’s database, see what you can find, warrants, tickets, previous charges, anything before we go knocking on his door.”

“I can run a trace on Lucy’s phone, get her into MUPS and NaMus systems.” Nyla told her commanding officer before walking away.

Tim moved quickly, beckoning Jackson to follow as he approached an available computer terminal, sitting down behind the desktop as he began his search.

“What do you think?” Jackson asked as he pulled up a chair to the terminal.

Tim worked on punching in what he knew about Caleb. “I think that we’re working a serial killer’s case and that given the circumstances, it’s not looking good.”

“She’s going to be ok, right?”

Tim continuously glanced at the clock in the corner of the computer screen, watching as the numbers for the minutes went up.

“Officer Bradford. Officer Nolan said you were looking for me?” Detective Nick Armstrong asked as he stepped into the room.

“Lucy Chen is missing. No one’s had contact with her in close to thirteen hours and Harper just sent me a text that her phone is turned off and that the GPS has been disabled.”

“And you think it’s connected to Rosalind.”

“I think that there’s no such thing as coincidences.”

“Do you have a name?”

“Yes, Caleb Wright.” Said Jackson. “But we’ve gotten no hits on any database.”

“Any social pages?”

“He has something, but we haven’t started a search.”

“May I?” he asked gesturing to the chair. Tim stood, moving out of the way as Nick sat down. “Name?”

“Caleb. Wright, with a W.”

Nick began punching the information that was given to him.

“Huh. And you’re sure that he’s on the internet?”

“Yes.” Tim told him, pacing.

“That’s weird because Caleb Wright doesn’t seem to exist.”

“What?” he said as he rushed over. “That’s impossible I seen him playing with- with a puppy on it yesterday!”

“Well, whatever it was on, it’s gone now. He must have deactivated it.”

“Even if he deactivated it, we can contact the company and-“

“On what grounds? We have nothing to back up what is being implied Officer Bradford. If he is our guy, he’s already faked one identity.”

“Bryan Coleman.”

“Exactly. This guy stole Coleman’s life to gain access to the old zoo, where he used the isolation to kill his victims.”

“He’s already got fresh blood, now he’s going to need new killing ground.”

“He already has it. If we can find the land, that’s where we will find Officer Chen.”

“We don’t have a picture of the guy, how are we supposed to find him?” asked Jackson.

“West, you work on pulling the security cameras from the front desk and the back hall. I am going to go sit with Isaac downstairs and see if he can compile a sketch from what I remember, it will be better than nothing.” Tim instructed as he quickly made his way downstairs.

Thirty minutes later, Tim was taping up the sketch of Caleb onto the whiteboard at the front of the room as Nyla worked on putting up the necessary information.

“Officer Bradford.” Jackson said walking into the room, lingering by the door. “A word.”

Tim walked over, crossing his arms as he stood in front of the rookie.

“We have a problem. There’s no footage.”

Tim looked at him in disbelief. “What do you mean there’s no footage?”

“The footage from yesterday has been wiped.”

Tim shifted on his feet. “Wiped.”

“Yes sir, I checked the timeframe that you told me he was here and all the footage, an entire hour is nothing but static.”

“Son of a bitch! How did he- when did he-“

“What do we know?” Sergeant Grey asked, walking into the room, Detective Armstrong trailing close behind.

“Any footage of Caleb inside the department yesterday has been wiped.”

“He hacked our servers so we can assume he’s very good with technology which is why we were unable to find any social media pages.”

Nolan spoke up, raising a hand. “If that’s true then he has access to anything we have on Rosalind.”

“Not everything.” Pointed out Armstrong. “Almost all of our findings from her earlier kills have never been scanned into the system, those reports are all still on paper.”

“Who has those?”

“They are locked up in storage in the basement which you have to sign out but you’re in luck, I’m old school. I happen to keep a paper copy of all my cases, for if and when technology fails us, and those copies? Are in my office.”

“Get them.” Ordered Grey. “In the meantime, we do have an update.”

“The bartender at Las Torres recognized Lucy and Caleb.” Detective Armstrong stated, pulling up the security feed onto the smart TV. “The good news, there’s a security camera in the parking lot so we know that they left at 9:05. The bad news is that the angles on the camera are shit which means we are unable to confirm faces.”

“He knew where the cameras were.” Stated Nolan from a table in the middle of the room.

“Correct Officer Nolan. Now, we were able to obtain footage from a neighboring business and have footage of this car driving by four minutes later,” Armstrong told them as he played the footage on a loop. “the plates are missing but it matches the description of a car that was reported stolen yesterday morning.”

“Now, Officer Chen’s car was found in the alleyway where she left it last night. Unfortunately, the amount of evidence that we have discovered gives us every inclination that Caleb is Rosalind’s protégée.”

The sounds of the room came to a halt as the words sunk in. They had all thought it, but no one had uttered the suspicion.

“Officer Chen is one of our own, and I know how upsetting this revelation is, but we have to remain focused. We owe her that.”

Tim closed his eyes, clenching his fist as he fought the wave of nausea that sat in the pit of his stomach.

“Nora was abducted two nights ago and we found her eighteen hours later, already tattooed and about to be put into a barrel to be suffocated. We believe that Caleb’s timeline from abduction to death to be twenty-four hours.” Nolan told them as he took over.

“Officer Chen has been missing for almost fifteen hours now, giving us approximately seven hours to find her.”

“Unless the timeline is wrong and she’s dead already.”

Tim stood from where he was leaning on the table. “You’re wrong. Chen, she’s not like the rest of the victims, she’s a fighter.”

“I haven’t known Lucy as long as the rest of you, but Bradford is right. She’s going to do everything that she can to stay alive until we save her.” Spoke Nyla, gaining a nod of appreciation from Tim.

“I’ve issued a BOLO to be broadcast for Caleb Wright and Officer Chen all over LA and surrounding counties, so I will need more officers answering the tip line as the phone calls come in.” said Grey addressing the group of officers before he began to call them out by name, giving them their tasks, leaving the close knit group of officers in the room.

“Detective Armstrong?” the officer from the front desk asked, knocking on the glass door as she stepped into the room. “Someone dropped this off at the front desk for you.” She told the group, extending the hand holding a manilla envelope.

Nick reached out, grabbing the envelope, observing the information on the outside, finding his name printed on the paper. “No return address.” He stated, looking up at the officers around him.

Tim reached into the pants pocket of his uniform, pulling out a black pair of gloves, slipping them on before he reached out a hand to take the possible evidence. He carefully undone the metal clasp, using the flashlight from his duty belt to peek into the open package. Tim looked around at the faces of the other officers that had gathered around, carefully shaking out the contents, a lone USB drive falling out.

“What the fuck?” he mumbled under his breath.

“He’s playing with us, just like Rosalind.” Armstrong said as he ran a hand over his head. “We need to plug it in, see what’s on it.”

Tim picked up the stick, palming the drive in his gloved hand. “And what if it’s just another game?”

“And what if it’s not.”

“I’m not going to let my boot become another one of their casualties!” Tim told Armstrong, his voice raising with every word.

Sergeant Grey sighed. “We need to find an unsecured computer, one that is not attached to our servers.”

“I can help with that. I’ve got my laptop in the truck, Lucy made flashcards for us to study on the internet, and we were planning on studying after shift.” Offered Nolan.

“Get it.” Grey instructed as he pulled out his phone.

Nolan walked away quickly, returning just as fast with a bag in hand. He pulled the device from the bag, powering it on as Tim connected the USB drive, a lone URL link popping up on the screen as they crowded around.

“Click it.” The sergeant ordered as words began scrolling across the screen.

‘Detective Nick Armstrong. Let it be known, this one’s for you.’

The room was silent as they read the scrolling words on the screen before they disappeared, a video popping up in its place.

“Oh my god.” John said in shock at the video before them.

“Is it live?” asked Tim, his voice cracking with emotion.

“I don’t- it doesn’t-“ Spoke the rookie, stumbling over his words.

“Is there audio?” Tim demanded, his voice raising.

Sergeant Grey placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder, grounding him. “We have to assume it is. She’s not in the barrel yet so she has to still be alive. Officer West, assist Detective Armstrong in going over the files he has. I want you to check out every file that has Rosalind’s name on it, in it, attached to it. I want history, financials, background, anything that may help us get a location. Find me something Nick. In the meantime, let’s get someone from IT up here to find us a location. Officer Nolan, you stay on the computer and if she wakes, Wright shows up or anything on that screen changes, you let me know immediately. Harper, contact her parents, don’t,” he said hesitantly. “don’t give them the full rundown of what’s going on but make them aware and that the LAPD is doing their best to find their daughter.”

Each officer went out the door, heading their separate ways as they went about the task they were assigned.

“Sir.” Tim said moving to the door, towards where his superior was walking out. “And me?”

Wade glanced over Tim’s shoulder at Nolan who was intently watching the monitor.

“She’s your boot Bradford, you know her better than anyone. Stay with Nolan and watch the feed.”

“But sir-“

“Watch the feed Bradford.” Sergeant Grey commanded as he left the room.

Tim sighed, running a hand over his face. He pulled out his phone, dialing the one person he knew he could rely on. “Hey, Lucy’s been taken. I need you.” Was all he said, hanging up the phone, clenching the metal device in his hand before stepping back into the room.

“Get Grey back in here, she’s waking up.”

“Hey Sarge!” He yelled out the door, running over to Nolan and the computer.

-----

Lucy Chen came to in a daze, her head throbbing, her mouth dry and her left side was burning. She knew what had happened as she glanced around the bare room, the realization that she had become one of them hitting her full force.

Instinct told her to pull at the restraints, the tape around her wrists not budging, making her realize that she wasn’t going anywhere, at least not until her numb body became more aware. She took in her surroundings, noticing the blinds we’re drawn, the sun filtering through, the wooden entertainment center and desk to her right, both covered in dust.

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty.” He spoke from behind her, his footsteps heavy as he walked into the room she was being held in. “I’d offer you some, but it’s better if your stomach is empty, for you know, later. All the screaming and lack of air tends to make you-“ he said before pretending to gag.

She glanced around the room, looking for anything that could potentially give her a clue as to where she was being held, spying the bottle of water on the wooden table.

“Can- can I at least have some water?” She asked, remembering that water is more sustainable, no matter the circumstance.

“Oh, of course.” He said as he moved over to the table, reaching for the bottle. “I’m not a monster.”

Caleb sat his plate down as Lucy took the time with his back to her to further observe her surroundings for the split second she had, before he turned back around, twisting the cap off as he walked over towards her. She opened her mouth, taking any water she could get. “Ah, don’t get greedy.” He chastised as she swallowed the sip he had allowed her.

“Is this why you hit on me in that bar? Why you asked me out? So you could make me a victim?”

“No! Not at all!” he told her as he took a bite of the apple from his plate. “Though, I see the confusion. You weren’t the target Lucy, you were just an opportunity. I was there scoping out Armstrong. Honestly, I don’t know what Rosalind sees in the guy. But who am I to judge, we all have our fetishes.”

Lucy swallowed harshly, “Are you gonna bury me in Rosalind’s third unmarked grave?”

“You know, that was the plan. I was gonna put Nora in there, but then your friend screwed that up.”

“Why are you doing this?” She asked, her voice raising.

Caleb smirked, “You know, that’s more of a second date question. And we’re just not gonna get there. I’m sorry.” Lucy could feel her heart stop as his words confirmed her fears. “Now, I’ve got a lot to do before I put you inside-“

Lucy panicked as he began to walk away, she needed to know, she deserved to know “Wait!” she yelled, causing the retreating man’s steps to faulter. “Why- why the tattoo? Is it… some display of ownership? Knowing that you have the ultimate control over a person, deciding when they die?”

“No.” he huffed a laugh. “It’s not for me, silly. It’s for you, to force you to face the truth of your death. It is the gift of something we rarely get in life, clarity.”

“Did Rosalind teach you that?”

“No.” he said, his voice raising as his tone became irritated. “That’s mine.”

“Rosalind is your mentor, is she not? So that would-“

“No!” he interrupted. “No, It’s not like that. We are equals.”

“Does she know that?”

Caleb laughed. “You’re good Officer Chen. But I would think carefully of how you want to proceed, because this, I’m going to enjoy this.”

________________________

The room was quiet as they watched Caleb’s retreating back, the conversation they just witnessed settling in. “The window to the left of the screen is obscured, so there’s no way to find out where she is. Dammit.”

“How long till IT gets here?” Nolan asked grimly.

“Soon. Officer Nolan, I want you and Harper to assist West and Armstrong, the more eyes we have filing through the paperwork, the better chances of finding where this house is.”

Nolan stood, walking out in search of his training officer.

“Officer Bradford, I need you to stay here and monitor the feed, she may not know of the camera but look for any identifying characteristics in that living room that could point us in the right direction. If he comes back, notify me immediately.” The Sergeant instructed before walking away.

Tim sighed sitting down into the seat that Nolan had vacated, watching as his boot took in the details of the room, her fingers twitching against the wooden arm rest. “We’re going to find you boot.”

Twenty minutes later, the sound of two pairs of footsteps walked into the room, dragging Tim’s focus away from what the IT analyst, Marcus, was working on on a second computer. “Hey. Thanks for coming in.” He said standing as Angela and Wesley walked in.

“Of course. What are you working on?”

Tim clenched his jaw, extending a hand to show what was on the screen.

“He’s recording her?” Wesley asked in disbelief.

Tim nodded his head, “We think the camera is hidden so she’s not aware that she’s being watched. Day off?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Wesley said as shared a glanced with Angela. “Can I help?”

“What’s your tolerance level for cranks and asshats wasting your time?”

Wesley couldn’t help the smirk on his face. “I’m a public defender.”

Tim rolled his eyes as they walked out of the room. “There’s an empty spot next to West so help yourself to a notepad and a phone. Besides, nothing says we’ve got squat like listening to the public.”

Wesley sat down as Tim began walking back to the room, Angela walking beside him as he took large steps. “This is useless. We should be out on the streets, kicking down doors.”

Angela placed a hand onto Tim’s arm stopping them in the middle of the pen. “Whose doors Tim? They wouldn’t be able to tell us where he is keeping her.”

“I don’t know.” He said shaking his head. “I-I can’t just sit here Ang.”

“I get that, but you’ve got to get your head in the game.” She told him as she pulled him to the side.

“I don’t need a pep talk Lopez.”

Angela searched his face. “Then why’d you call me? Because clearly, you need to get something off your chest.”

Tim looked away, glancing around the room for possible prying eyes and listening ears before he looked back to his friend, letting out a sigh. “Look, she- she wanted to go home. Okay? Go to bed. And- and I told her that she should focus on something else. She went out with Caleb because I told her to Angela.”

Angela Lopez had been witness to the many emotions of Tim Bradford over the years that she had known him, but the one he was displaying now, was one that she hadn’t seen in a long time. “You couldn’t have known.”

“But I should’ve! I’m a fucking cop.” He told her, his voice raising with every word as he stepped closer to his friend, lower his voice. “I was standing this close to the guy. Okay? Right across from him, and I never saw him coming.” He vented, his hands returning to his duty belt as he quickly got himself in check. “But she did though. She- Some part of her didn’t feel right about this whole thing. She hesitated and I-I pushed her right into him.”

Angela stood there, her mouth opening and closing as his admission of guilt left her speechless.

“Sergeant Grey!” exclaimed the voice of Marcus, as he stuck his head out of the door of the room.

Tim snapped his head towards the trembling voice as his feet quickly carried him, Angela hot on his heels.

Tim immediately went to the computer, finding a empty and broken chair on the screen. “Where the fuck is she?”

Marcus hurried back in, quickly pulling up footage on the second computer. “She escaped.”

Tim felt his eyes grow wide as he watched the recorded scene play out before them.

Lucy saw the opportunity, having previously checked the stability of the wooden chair by wiggling the pieces ever so slightly to find the weak spots, she waited for the best moment to make her escape. The chair was wooden, making it easier to break, and as soon as the front door closed, her knew it was time. As hard as she could, she pulled her right arm that was strapped to the wood, the wood splintering as she moved her wrist to her left hand, undoing the duct tape before removing the tape from her right wrist and then both of her calves.

She never heard the door open again, her hands shaking with adrenaline as she moved quickly to the back wall.

“Okay. We are ready to go.” Said Caleb as he walked into the room.

Lucy pulled her arm back and threw her punch as he walked into the room, knocking him to the ground as the force and lingering drugs forced her unsteady body to the ground. She quickly got to her feet, running towards the door as Caleb gasped in pain on the floor.

“Where did she go?” Sergeant Grey asked, his voice tainted with excitement of her escape.

“There’s no other cameras so we can’t- Shit.” Marcus cursed under his breath, typing furiously into Nolan’s computer. “He cut the feed.”

“What do you mean he cut the feed!” asked Tim, moving closer, finding a black screen in front of him.

“It’s gone, it’s still broadcasting but he must have turned it off.”

Tim ran a hand through his hair as he stepped back.

“What about a trace on the broadcast?”

“The signal is being run through an anonymizer, meaning that each time I try to back trace a location, the ISP is in a different location. He’s keeping it local to LA and the surrounding counties but it’s going to take time that we don’t have to get a better trace.”

The shrill tone of Angela’s phone broke the tension in the room. “Hey. What? He may, let me find out and I will get back to you.” She said ending the call. “That was Nolan, we may have a lead.”

Angela informed the group of Nolan’s suggestion, gaining approval from Sergeant Grey before she made her way to Wesley.

“Hey.” She said as he hung up the phone. “Do you have any clients at the Central California Women’s Facility?”

“Sure.” He said running a list of his clients through his head. “Three, I think.”

“They need to tell you who’s running contraband into the prison.”

“Okay, but I can’t do anything that would incriminate a client.”

“No one cares about black market cigarettes. Getting the smuggler might be out only hope at finding Lucy before it’s too late.” She urged.

“Okay.” Wesley said, picking up the receiver. “Let me make some calls.”

Thirty minutes later, the feed was back online, the screen showing the dirt on the ground, as faint voices could be heard in the background.

“Can we make it louder, hear what their saying?”

Marcus shook his head. “No, this is as loud as it gets for the real time audio.”

A loud rustling could be heard before the image on the screen became distorted, showing Lucy sitting in the barrel.

“So I can watch.” Caleb’s voice came through the speaker before he placed the lid onto the barrel, positioning the camera in Lucy’s face.

“Can you go back?” Grey asked as Nolan’s computer continued showing the live events.

Marcus pressed a variety of buttons on his computer, going back to when the camera showed Lucy sitting inside the metal barrel.

“Slow it down. There.” Grey pointed out. “That tree in the background, if we can get a location...”

Tim’s eyes stayed trained on the live feed, watching as Lucy began panicking. The nauseousness that Tim had felt all morning intensified as he witnessed his boot being sealed into the container, her fate being decided. He couldn’t stand there and watch what was about to happen, watch her- he walked out of the room, heading straight for the locker room.

Angela gasped as the clack of the lock snapping into place echoed through the metal, Lucy’s breaths becoming shaky as a loud thud and tumbling could be heard before coming to a stop, dirt settling around the barrel as Lucy let out a whimper.

“Mute the computer.” Grey instructed somberly, knowing what was about to come.

“Sarge?” Angela whispered.

Wade turned away from the screen, “Did Wesley get anything from his clients?”

“I.. Let me go check.” She told her commanding officer before walking out of the room, returning five minutes later with Wesley in tow.

“Benjamin Lassie. He’s who you want.”

Sergeant Grey turned towards the couple. “Start pulling everything we can on him, if you see Bradford and West grab them, we could use the hands.”

Angela nodded, walking out of the room and towards where she thinks Tim may be.

“Hey.” She said noticing him walking out of the men’s locker room. “Come on, we’ve got a name from Wesley’s client.”

Tim walked ahead of Angela, flexing his left hand, the motion not going unnoticed by the officer, but Angela chose not to comment as they walked to the closest computer terminal.

She worked on pulling the information about their lead, finding out that the low-level criminal had recently been paroled. “He’s on parole, Officer Scott Francisco.”

Tim and Jackson were able to easily find the man, making a traffic stop, obtaining the name and information that they needed.

Jackson glanced at the superior the entire ride back to the station as Tim made the appropriate phone calls, acquiring a no-knock warrant from a more than happy judge and the Mid-Wilshire’s SWAT team. The two uniformed officers parked a block away, staging as SWAT suited up and went over the plan for the breech.

Tim could feel their moods tumble even further down as their promising lead turned into a bust. “Caleb used Jerry’s identity to get into the prison, get close to Rosalind.” He realized, staring down the man sitting in the floor. “And you were our last shot at saving her.”

He stormed out of the house, throwing his gear into the back of the shop as before slamming the hatch closed. He wanted to lash out, yell at someone, chase down every lead they could grasp. But Tim Bradford was slowly giving up hope.

“Hey, check it out.” Jackson said, pulling the older officer out of his pity.

“What’s that?” he asked solemnly, gesturing towards the folder in the rookie’s hand.

“Copies of every credit card statement from the card that Caleb used in Jerry’s name. He may be good with tech but even when you steal someone’s identity, you can’t erase what’s been bought.”

Tim stood, pulling the folder out of Jackson’s hand. He glanced over the statements, a hopeful smile taking over. “There could be charges in here that leads us to Caleb. Let’s go, we’ve gotta get back to the station, get everyone on it.” He said in a rush, closing the folder as he hurried to the driver’s side of the shop.

Jackson pulled out his phone as he sat down in the passenger seat, hitting the contact for the person he needed as the phone began ringing. “Hey, Caleb stole Jerry’s identity just like Brock Coleman’s. Jerry had copies of every credit statement and gave them to us, we’re on our way back.”

“Good, we’ve got a lead here too. Wesley has been going over some of Rosalind’s biographical data, if we can cross-reference those statements with the data, we can find where he’s keeping Chen. Wesley thinks it’s somewhere that’s near and dear to Rosalind’s heart.”

“We’ll be there in ten.” Jackson told her, hanging up the phone, reaching for the file that was haphazardly thrown onto the dash, scanning through the documents.

True to his words they rolled into the parking lot ten minutes later, both walking quickly into the bullpen, finding Sergeant Grey, Angela and Wesley gathered around a table.

“Hey, hey, we’ve got something. Caleb used Jerry’s identity to rent a post office box in Kern County near the prison. But, he kept it up even after he quit. Stills pay for it, so there must be a place close by.”

“Wait, Kerns County?” Angela asked, digging through the piles of papers in front of her. “Rosalind’s family – her trust owns a farm there.” She said handing the paper over to Tim.

Tim grabbed it, looking at the information as he let out an incredulous laugh. “Son of a bitch.”

“Sergeant Grey!” Marcus huffed as he ran to the table. “She’s not got much longer.”

Sergeant Grey stood, pulling out his cell phone, scrolling through his contacts as he delivered orders. “Call Nolan and Harper, get them headed in that direction.” He instructed before speaking to the other person on the phone. “Hello Sir, we believe we have found Officer Chen. Yes Sir. Thank you.” He said as he ended the call. “Chopper will be here in five. Let’s go.”

The four officers stood on the helipad, Jackson keeping an eye on the live feed with his phone. Angela was on the phone with Kern County Sheriff Department, giving instructions to the other person on the line, telling them about the situation and where they were heading, requesting local backup.

“It looks like she’s talking to herself.” He mumbled, moving the speaker of the phone next to his ear, listening to the quiet melody coming from one of his closest friends. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Tim asked, turning to Jackson.

“She’s- she’s singing.” He whispered in disbelief, pressing the volume button of the already maxed out device as a chill went through his spine.

Jackson pulled the device away from his ear, handing it over to Tim who held it up to his own ear, hearing the soft voice of his rookie come through the speaker.

‘Say nighty-night and kiss me

Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me

While I’m alone and blue as can be

Dream a Little Dream of Me’

Tim knew his rookie’s voice, whether it was sitting next to her for hours on end in the shop or listening to the hours long recording of her reading sentence after sentence to help him prepare for his Sergeants exam, he knew her voice. He had heard her sing before, quietly under her breath as she sung along to the song playing on the radio of the shop or her mumbling the words of the song stuck in her head that she had heard on her drive to work that morning. But he knew those words, the melody of the song that he was hearing her softly sing, would haunt him for the rest of his life.

The LA police department helicopter landed on the helipad as Tim stood frozen in place, his rookie’s oxygen deprived voice ringing in his ears.

“Bradford.” Jackson said questioningly. “Sir? Are- are you ok?”

Tim absentmindedly handed the owner of the phone their device back, the wind from the blades of the chopper hitting him, pulling him out of his trance. “Yeah.” He said clearing the emotions that were held his throat. “Let’s go.”

“She’s lost consciousness.” Spoke Jackson through the headset over halfway through the flight. Tim leaned his head back onto the metal wall, silently saying a hopeful prayer as a sense of dread overcame him.

Thirty minutes after takeoff, the helicopter was beginning its decent into an open field when something out of the corner of his eye, caught Tim’s attention.

“A tree.” He said pointing out the right side of the aircraft, remembering the piece of wood from a different perspective. “That’s the tree from the video.”.

The chopper landed, the passengers aboard hastily making their way out of the aircraft as they met the local deputies.

“If our calculations are correct, we’re out of time. Bradford, Lopez make your way up there to the tree, look for fresh dirt. Sheriff, Officer West and I will take your SWAT team and head towards the house where we believe our suspect to be.”

Tim took off in a run, Angela along with a few sheriff deputies following hot on his heels as they quickly approached the hill, scaling it with ease, swiftly reaching the top. He made his way towards the dead tree as Angela instructed the other officers to spread out in different directions in order to cover more ground as he walked the parameter around the dead tree, hoping to find something as he looked for any signs that the ground had recently been disturbed.

The late afternoon sun casted a glow onto the panoramic views around him, showcasing the dry California land that leaves everything in its path tarnished. But the burning star proved to be a blessing instead of a curse as the flash of something metal reflecting the sun’s rays back towards him, gained his attention.

He ran, stumbling over his feet as his knees slammed into the ground. A ring. And not just any ring, it was one his subconscious was familiar with, having seen it adorn her finger a countless number of times.

He picked it up, palming the warm metal holding the opal that was glinting in the sun. ‘She’s close.’ He thought as he stood, looking down at the ground around him before he began to stop on the ground, listening for anything abnormal.

It didn’t take long. “I’ve got her.” He yelled as his voice cracked.

Tim pocketed the ring, calling out once again, louder and more frantically as he fell to his knees, his voice echoing as the footfalls of Angela and the local deputies hurried over. He used his hands, moving away as much of the loose dirt that he could as other hands joined the effort, one of the deputies using an expandable shovel, casting it behind them.

“Come on.” He chanted under his breath as the metal lid of the barrel was exposed. He reached over, undoing the metal clasp as someone shoved the metal of the shovel under the lid, lifting the piece off in ease.

“Lucy.” He sighed as his arms reached in for her slumped form. “Help me get her. Let’s get her.”

“We need medical.” Someone said in the background, speaking into their handheld.

“Lucy.” He said once they extracted her as they laid her down.

“Is she breathing?” Angela asked as he glanced at her chest, finding no movement as his fingers went to her neck, feeling for a pulse.

“No, I’ve got no pulse.”

Tim leaned over, pinching her nose, giving her two rescue breaths as Angela moved beside him, counting out as she performed the thirty compressions. Tim giving her another two breaths, “Come on Lucy.” He whispered.

“Suspect had been neutralized.”

“MedEvac is five out.”

“Dammit Chen! Not like this.” He cursed as Angela counted to thirty once again as he leaned over, once again breathing for her. “Switch.”

Angela moved back and into Tim’s previous position as he laced his fingers together, pushing hard and fast into her chest.

“Tim…” Angela said worriedly.

“No!” He said in between counts. Angela was prepared to give another round of rescue breaths when a gasp came from before them.

“Holy shit.” Angela cursed, letting out the breath she had been holding.

Tim huffed out a laugh, smiling. “Lucy.” He breathed as both her arms rose, preparing for a fight. “Hey, hey, hey, you’re ok. It’s me.”

Lucy looked around with hooded eyes, as her head lulled to the side, staring at Tim as reality settled in, the tears escaping as she began to sob. He leaned over, pulling her into him, mindful of her injuries.

“I’ve got you Lucy.” He mumbled into her hair as her shaky hands grasped onto his uniform for dear life. “I’ve got you.” He repeated as she sobbed in his arms.

The next few hours passed in a blur, the medical helicopter flying in, loading up Lucy and taking her to the closest hospital.

“I’m going with her.” Tim sternly told the flight medic on board as they went to stop him from getting aboard. The medic knew then not put up a fight, watching as the officer climbed aboard, sitting next to his patient.

Soon they were in the air, Lucy holding on to Tim’s hand as the medic began their assessment. Her grasp never waned from his, even in her altered state of consciousness as he ran his free hand over her hair. He stayed by her side, never leaving her until they reached the awaiting staff of the emergency department.

“Sir, I know that she’s your partner, but I’m going to have to ask for you to leave.”

“I’m not-“

“We need to assess her injuries Officer Bradford.” The nurse stated firmly. “And in order to do that, you need to leave.”

“I-“ he hesitated as all the fight left him. “Ok.” He sighed, letting go of her hand. “Just let me- I’ll be back boot.”

Lucy sleepily smiled at his words.

He did come back, never leaving her side for longer than what he deemed necessary, keeping her unconscious form company as he sat at her bedside. They were two hours from home, affirming his decision to not go, at least not until he knew that she was ok. Wesley drove from LA, picking Angela up from the farmhouse with a change of clothes in the trunk, stopping by to give Tim his own fresh clothes and the emergency bag of clothes Lucy kept in her locker.

Jackson showed the next morning, giving Tim a break though he only left to stretch his legs before returning to the room. They sat in silence, Tim filling out his reports as Jackson scrolled through the apps on his phone. Around noon, Jackson stood mentioning going out to grab something to eat from the mom-and-pop burger stand that just so happened to have a second location nearby, Tim giving the rookie some cash and reciting the two orders he knew by heart.

He kept an eye on the clock, knowing that Lucy’s parents were due to arrive at any moment, Tim personally keeping them updated throughout the night on any improvements. There was none as the doctor chose to keep her sedated, but it was the thought that counts.

Tim was sitting on the doctor’s stool at her bedside when she came to, pretending to read a magazine as he watched her wake up. Lucy knew he was fooling no one as she chuckled.

“What are you reading, Teen Rebel?”

Tim looked at her with a teasing grin as he rolled over to her. “They actually have some really insightful political articles.”

“Mmm-hmmm.” She said not believing him. “Oh. Which BTS member is your soulmate? It’s gotta be Suga, right?” she asked him as she leveled a look.

“Totally.” He agreed shaking his head as he skimmed the questions, not clear on what she was talking about. “What’s a BTS?”

Lucy laughed, a bad decision as her broken ribs protested at the movement. “Oh God.” She cried out in anguish as she took a steady breath, breathing through the pain.

Tim watched her with concern, masking it as she turned to him with a smile.

“Have you been here all night?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“No.” he denied, shaking his head as he forced out another no, repeating the word as he looked away from her stare.

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Mm-hmm.” She said about to call her training officer out on his lying capabilities when a knock sounded at the door.

“Hey.” Nolan smiled as he walked through the door. “You’re awake.”

Lucy turned her head, changing her posture in the bed as Jackson walked through the door, carrying a bag. “Hey. Is that food?” she asked excitedly, causing the men in her life to chuckle. “What, I’m starving ok?”

“I would wait on the food Officer Chen.” A quite voice said as they walked into the room, knocking on the door. “Doctor Allison Rivera. And you, Lucy Chen are one very lucky lady.” Lucy nodded absentmindedly at the words, she didn’t think herself to be lucky.

“You have several abrasions and a few stiches throughout, as well as a slight concussion along with two broken ribs and moderate dehydration.”

“Does that mean I’m going to be in the hospital for a while?”

“I believe that you can be discharged tomorrow. Your body is dehydrated, and I want to make sure no other complications arise.”

She turned her head, looking towards Tim. “How did you guys find me anyways?”

Tim opened his mouth to speak when Nolan interrupted. “It was all of us. I talked to Rosalind, Jackson found the credit card statements, Angela found the farm, Wesley talked to some of his clients and Tim made all the connections.”

Lucy nodded her head appreciatively. “Thank you.”

“Oh!” Nolan said removing the item from behind his back. “I brought you something.”

She smiled, laughing at the enormous pink teddy bear that was in his hands. “I can see that.”

“It was the biggest one I could find.”

“I would hope so.” She gingerly laughed once again. “Oh my god, I’m going to need a bigger apartment.”

“I think we’ll be just fine Lucy.” Jackson told her, smiling as he rolled his eyes.

“Thank you Nolan.”

“Hey!” Jackson weakly protested. “I brought you food! Besides, he cannot stay in my room.”

“Well, he is a she, and she is going to be sleeping with me in my bed, since I am clearly never going on a date again.”

“I’m not sure that should be your takeaway.” Doctor Rivera said from the foot of the bed, watching the interaction.

“Oh, hang on.” Nolan said looking at the doctor. “Statistically, that’s actually pretty safe.”

Tim quickly glanced at Lucy before looking away, nodding his head. “Definitely should.”

“Wow, so is this the kind of support and understanding I can look forward to from now on?” she asked as she looked around at each of them.

“Yes.”

“Pretty much.”

“Oh definitely.”

Lucy chuckled at their responses. “That’s great. That’s really good.”

“You hungry?” Tim asked her before looking at the doctor.

“You can eat, just keep the portions small and non-greasy for right now.”

Lucy nodded as she opened the Styrofoam container in front of her. “Wait. Is this- is this a veggie burger and fries with extra pickles?” she asked, looking at Jackson.

“Don’t thank me, it was all Bradford.”

Lucy picked up a fry, turning her head and smiled. “You know me so well.”

Tim laughed as she let out a sigh, chewing the greasy potato. “Too well.”

“Well, I’ve got other rounds to make but I will be back by this evening to check in on you. A nurse will be by shortly to take vitals and give you some medicine for the pain.” Doctor Rivera said, dismissing herself.

“Your parents called me on the way up and said they’re on their way, I’m gonna go meet them downstairs. Come on Nolan.”

“Oh great just who I wanted to see.” She mumbled, rolling her eyes as Jackson left.

“I’ve actually got a date with Grace in three hours, so I’ve got to head back to LA. But I will swing by your apartment tomorrow with pastries.”

Lucy’s face lit up at the word pastries. “Make sure there’s a bear claw!”

“For you, I’ll make sure there’s two.” He smiled, saying goodbye as he walked out of the room.

Lucy sighed, leaning her head back, closing her eyes. “Are my parents seriously coming?” she whined.

“Yes.”

She let out a groan, opening her eyes as she reached for the burger. “Don’t get me wrong, I love them, most of the time- but after all of this, I just don’t-“ she sighed, her words drifting off as she took a bite.

“You’re their only child Chen.”

She swallowed the bite. “I know, but-“

“Give them thirty minutes and then tell them you’re tired.”

Lucy turned her head. “Is that not the equivalent of going to the bathroom on a date and not returning?”

Tim shrugged before hesitantly speaking. “How are you?” he asked, his tone low and laced with concern.

“I’m-“ she began before letting out a sigh “I’m alive.”

He nodded at her honesty. She wasn’t ok, he wasn’t ok, and they both knew it.

She moved her left hand to the edge of the bed, leaving her palm up. “Thank you.” She whispered. “I don’t-“ she began, choking on her words as tears welled in her eyes.

“It’s ok Luce.” He whispered back, placing his hand in hers. Lucy relished in the feel of his hand in hers before a knock on the door tore them apart, her mom rushing in.

Tim rolled the chair away from the bed, wordlessly reminding her of his suggestion as her parents began speaking rapidly. Lucy looked past them towards Tim, her face pleading for help. He chuckled, shaking his head before moving silently towards the door. They weren’t ok, but with time (and a lot of therapy) they could be.

#tim bradford x lucy chen #the rookie fic #chenford fanfic #chenford fic #chenford #fanfic

51 notes · View notes