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ilikekidsshows · 3 years

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One thing that pisses me off not just about the miraculous fandom but modern fandoms is fans inability to consume long overarching stories.

Like so many people are complaining about how long the reveal is taking or why haven't certain characters outgrown this trait yet or why is this character arc botched or abandoned. Like guys we just got the confirmation this show will be 7 seasons long PLUS like 3 tv specials. We're only roughly halfway through the series.

Once the reveal happens half the tension in the show is gone! I'm not saying leave the reveal till season 7 and make us wait 9 years this isn't HIMYM but miraculous is not a fast paced story. It's a long haul story. I just wish more fans would be patient. Miraculous is in the extremely fortunate and rare position that it will have a conclusive end and not be suddenly cancelled. That was and still is a huge problem for shows and cartoons with dedicated fans but networks pull the plug for stupid ass reasons.

So miraculous fans please chill the fuck out on things not resolving right away. We still have 78+ episodes plus the tv specials. If we get the end to certain things now it'll be so boring.

I think the concept of Instant Gratification describes the issue with many modern fandoms today. I hate to sound like I'm anti-technology, but the constant stream of quick and short bursts of entertainment allowed by the information age has made people more impatient. It's not about waiting for the climax to get a deeper sense of satisfaction, it's about getting that instant gratification right this instant. It's why one-shot fanfics are all over the place, when multi-chapter stories used to be just as common and popular, if not even more so, and it’s also why people are less willing to read a fic that’s still a work in progress. It's why people refuse to watch Youtube video essays even as they leave comments on the topic based on the title and thumbnail alone because, while they couldn't be assed to watch a 20-minute video (let alone an hour long one), they sure can spend that time calling the Youtuber names and making arguments the video actually already refutes. It's why a lot of online arguments happen only because one party read nothing but the first and maybe the last paragraph of someone's post and skipped all the explanation for their point of view (if I've ignored an counter argument for one of my posts, it was either because I missed it or because said counter argument did this. I have attention deficit issues so I do genuinely forget responses sometimes, but I'm also not writing a second essay for someone who's proven to me they won't read it).

Of course, it's only by constantly consuming only fast-paced content that you can become this impatient. People have different ideas about stories based on what stories they have encountered in the past.

Another thing that influences the Miraculous fandom in particular is that, while I love to show off exactly how much Miraculous has done to build up the overarching plotlines, Miraculous isn't really a show that's about a single story. It's easy to understand why people think it is one though: there's one main villain, we keep discovering more about the mythology, one of the main plot threads is the romantic relationship between the leads and singular episodes and plot elements tend to get payoff later. What is the purpose of a show if not to progress the story? Because the heroes aren't getting closer to defeating Gabriel or getting together, people think that the story isn't accomplishing anything.

I'll do a comparison to illustrate why these things aren't as clear-cut signs of a continuous storyline as people think. In the Spider-Man comics, you can pick any issue up and the chances are that the villain will be a part of Spider-Man's already established Rogues Gallery, who's back for more after who knows how many defeats, and those past defeats might even get referenced in callbacks to previous issues. It's also very possible that Peter and Mary Jane's relationship is the central focus with them not being together yet, having relationship problems or even having broken up (in really old issues the girl might be Gwen Stacy and short-term options have also always been available for romantic entanglements). Does this mean Spider-Man is a continuous story where the only point is that all the villains get put away for good and Peter and MJ live happily ever after? No, it doesn't. Spider-Man is designed to go on indefinitely, so there's no clear ending point. So, what is the point of Spider-Man then, if there is no Ending?

It used to be the single issue, because comic books used to have every issue be a stand-alone story about the hero and their supportive cast. These days it's more every three-to-six issues, because superhero comics are written to have short story arcs that can then be collected into trade paperbacks. A superhero series is not a single story; it's a series that functions as a story engine, meaning the series can generate several shorter stories where the hero helps fix a problem or solve a mystery.

In the superhero genre a villain will never get killed off or removed from stories permanently as long as the writers think they can still come up with stories to tell about them. The hero's romantic life will never be completely smooth sailing unless the writer is using other things to ramp up the stakes. Everything always allows for there to be another adventure.

I think the huge success of Avatar: the Last Airbender made people think that a series that is a single story is always superior to a series with multiple shorter plots. When I was liveblogging Sailor Moon, a viewer offered to give me a list of all the non-filler episodes because they genuinely thought I'd feel like I was wasting time on the show otherwise. This attitude is simply not based on fact. It's not fair to compare Miraculous Ladybug to Avatar, because they're both setting up to do completely different things. Miraculous Ladybug is trying to become a brand, like Batman or Spider-Man. It is part of the "Zag Heroes" lineup, a series of French-created superhero franchises to compete in the America-centric superhero market. This challenge is good for the genre, because Marvel and DC have started resembling each other more and more as these companies stew in their old ideas and copy everything that worked for the other one. The superhero genre needs new blood.

Also, Avatar: the Last Airbender first became popular by doing episodic plots for almost the entirety of the first season because it's actually not a wise choice to expect the audience to be willing to commit to a story that'll only give payoff later when working with an untested IP. Very often shows with longer story arcs start with the episodic format to hook people first, and sometimes the more linear plot is introduced specifically because the audience for the show is now expected to be both dedicated enough and older and capable of keeping up. Because, here's the thing: you can't expect little kids to remember every episode or even every character you've introduced in your show. I'm not sure if people are ready to hear that but I'm throwing it out there anyway. Kids are not dumb, they can understand more complex storylines, but many kids are still training their memory, so they might not remember the details of complex storylines that go on for too long.

This is why the news that Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season was going to have a recommended viewing order originally had me concerned. Miraculous is being branded for kids. The plot requiring too much skill in memorizing story details will make it less accessible to kids and might put those two additional seasons at risk. However, it seems that the "constantly changing status quo" concept of Truth, Lies and Gang of Secrets was a fluke and the evolution of the show is more subtle, so they might not be cutting the amount of episodes for those final seasons because the show is getting too complicated for kids to follow all the important details.

Regardless, Miraculous Ladybug being an adventure cartoon TV show instead of a comic book or a more cheaper-to-produce TV drama does mean that Miraculous Ladybug isn’t expected to go on for decades like a superhero comic or a soap opera. Because of this, it can have evolution and changes and even a planned ending. The show is expected to end at some point, even by the people making money off of it, mostly because making a cartoon like this indefinitely costs a lot of money, and kids’ adventure shows tend to see a decrease in returns if they go on for too long.

#media and fandom response #ml fandom salt #miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir

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slowpoke-fics · 3 years

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The Run | The Good Doctor pt 3

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Pairing: Negan x Reader slow burn

Summary: You had a bit more responsibility than you'd expected, not to say you didn't know what you were doing

Warnings: none really, cussing, ooc Negan, slow burn, it's cute, I miss some and am not perfect, read at your own risk

A/N: This is part three to the Good Doctor Part 3! Thank you for being patient and I hope to have part four up much quicker. I liked this even though it's just some logistical stuff and insight, here is part two!

Maybe he thinks he can fix me, sucks for him, I'm broken beyond repair.

When you woke up, Negan had his hand on your shoulder, you immediately grabbed the gun under your pillow, holding it under his chin. He immediately grabbed the gun and twisted it out of your hands, your eyes now fully open and awake. You didn't realize he was eye level with you, how hot it was for him to control your gun like that, how hot he was staring into your eyes, waiting for your next move. You were frozen, you're not sure he equated it with anything but sleep, but he was captivating.

He laughed, hands up, "Damn, doll, just trying to fuckin' wake you up without fuckin' scaring you, see that was fuckin' pointless," his eyebrows raised as he shook the gun by the barrel at you, "you want it back or not?" You shook your head in disbelief as you took your gun and put it down, shocked that you held a gun to someone for just trying to wake you up. "I-I'm sorry, I guess it was just-" Negan laughed, "No worries, doll, at least I know you can take care of yourself."

You smiled, throwing the blanket off of you and swinging your legs over the couch, “So,” you stood up and began folding the blanket, “what’s the plan?” He watched you fold the blanket, not trying to hide the fact that his eyes roamed your body. Taking in the battered bluejeans that hugged your body, the scratched and slightly torn tank top, your hair shining against the sun, really popping the color out. “We’re going to drive a little longer than I’d hoped but,” he huffed, “the towns supposed to have some more supplies left than we’d originally thought, we should be back by dark.” You shrugged, “Should be fun, are we ready to leave now?”

Negan leaned against the desk, you took all of him in. He was wearing his classic leather jacket over the tattered t-shirt and blue jeans that laid over his steel toe boots. He watched as you put your hair into a pony tail, shirt playing peekaboo with the skin on your torso, “Right after breakfast doll. You ready?” You nodded at him, heading to the door with him following close behind.

Once you had sat down for breakfast Negan started shoveling food down, a full plate compared to your half rations. You didn’t really have much of an appetite, worried about everything that could happen with Negan today. He didn’t seem to notice, and by the time you’d finished your small plate, he was already done eating too. He grabbed your plate so he could return it with his own. You picked up the bags and followed suit, following him out the door and to his truck.

The truck was huge. Had to have been able to fit half of Alexanndria's storage. You’d wondered how much he was planning to come back with. It started to make a little more sense when a small portion of his crew jumped into the back, probably for protection. You climbed into the truck after Negan opened the door for you, closing it once he’d known your feet were out of the way. Then proceeding to climb in his own side.

Negan started the truck, taking you in before he started rolling. Your legs crossed, fingers interlocked at the top of your thighs, thumbs picking at each other, ankle continuously moving. You watched the trucks behind you, following close, at least three others. Did all of them have people in the back? How big was this run?

You were clearly nervous and he hated that, he wanted to make you as comfortable as possible. He tried to ignore it, but after fifteen minutes of non stop thought through his head, he had to say something. "God damn doll," Negan bellowed, "you're gonna roll the damn truck if you don't stop shaking so much," Negan lightly rubbed your forearm, a foreign thing to you, "what're ya so fuckin' nervous about anyway princess?"

You shrugged, a look of uneasiness resting on your face at his nickname for you that didn't go unnoticed, "Just don't know how to act with your group, what're your run rules? Where do I not be in the way? Will I distract you and your men? I'm used to going solo, or with one or two people. There's so-" Negan had to stop your monologue, knowing you've asked these questions twenty times since yesterday. "Don't fuckin' worry about it," Negan smiled, "I made sure this was gonna be fun for you." Your eyebrows curled, needing him to explain.

Negan blushed? No way, you thought and left it alone. "What do you mean?" He shrugged, "You'll see, won't you doll?" You huffed, "Well that just makes me more nervous." Negan let out a hearty laugh, "Damn girl, pull at this old assholes strings huh?" He shook his head, "I'm your personal companion today," he giggled at your slap to his arm. "I don't need a baby sitter!" He raised he hands very quickly to show defense, "No! But, wherever you go, I do. Whatever you fuckin' say, that's law. Everyone else goes at your direction too," he paused, looking at you, "but you don't leave my fuckin' sight," his eyes bore into you, demanding confirmation. "Yeah, okay," you smiled lightly.

"So," Negan's fingers drilled the steering wheel as he hummed at you to continue, "what's in this place?" Negan shifted, "It's a little town, the rest is a surprise." He looked genuinely excited, and you wondered how this apocalypse had changed him as a man. He couldn't have always been this heartless. "Do I get any hints?" Negan hummed again, this time searching for something to give you, "You'll fuckin' like it." You shrugged, "Maybe." He glanced to your bag where you keep your notebook, a gentle reminder of his broken trust. "Oh," you cleared your throat, "hopefully." He beamed at you, "Come on lil' fuckin' firecracker," he pressed the gas a couple more times, gently swerving the car to play with you, "be more fuckin' excited! I'm fuckin' kidding!"

The rest of the way you could believe how different Negan was being. He was intently talking to you about the grid of the town, what his crew already know about, how his crew has already been briefed that you're running it, explained the teams to you and that you're header, leading the team leaders, and he's told you that he's confident you have this ability. You were shocked about him being completely different man that with other people. You were sure that you could be with the man sitting in the truck with you, and you were sure that you couldn't be with the man who murdered someone you considered to be your brother. You were torn between seeing his good and never forgiving him for killing Glenn, how could he do something so vile? You shook your head, drawing attention back to the road and off of your thoughts.

When you arrived, Negan placed his hand on your thigh, just barely touching you. "There is one rule," he smiled, "stay here." Negan was gone for no more than two minutes. He finally came to your door, opening it and revealing his many men standing behind him, "Make sure you're safe." He reached for your hand, dropping you down to the same man who stole from you in your clinic, you glared him hiding behind Negan.

Negan stepped out of the way, the man looking guilty, "Hello, Doctor Y/n," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry for stealing from an honorable woman." He handed you a gum pack, missing a few pieces, and a small pack of skittles, "I couldn't find gum to replace what I'd stolen, so I hoped that the skittles would excuse my poor manners." You smiled hatefully at him, taking what was in his hand, "Apology accepted..." you waited for him to say his name, but Negan chimed in. "Brady," and he slapped the other man on the shoulder eliciting a smile, "and Simon." You smiled, reaching your hand out to shake Simon's hand, "I've heard." Negan smiled at you, "Good we're all fuckin' aquatinted," he roughly slapped Brady's shoulder, you didn't miss the wince he tried to hide, "these two travel with us period. So, Y/n," a bright smile, "what's the fucking plan?"

With that you noticed the other men had cleared a path for you, letting you view the town. At this point you took in the town, looking at the tiny shops and small streets. Negan wasn't kidding, it's a small town, surely the four trucks you bought could fit everything. You thought for a second, and it hit you, how much work he had put into this. You smiled to yourself, knowing that he wanted to make this go smoothly for you, hence the perfect amount of trucks, a grid, briefed men.

You walked a little behind you, looking at the different streets, looking at Negan, he smiled, giving you some confidence. "You said that you'd already separated these men by trucks? With their usual teams?" You whispered to Negan, "Yes ma'am, they're with their usual team leaders and already armored, just need you to tell them where to go n what to do."

"Okay, so here's my plan-" Negan put his hand up, gesturing to the men when you realized you should be talking to them. You cleared your throat, "Okay, so here's the plan," Negan's body was just barely pressing against you, standing behind you on your left side, his hands in his pockets, watching his men intently listen to you. How hard did he work on this for you?

"If you came in Negan's truck, you're with us on main," you motioned with your hand to have them move to the side, "Truck two-or rather-team two, you're going to our left, Combs Street, when you get to the library, we're looking for education books, if we have time and space after you've gotten everything else essential on the street, comb the library taking the fun books, that's a good part of life now." Negan nodded, liking your plan for education first, noting that the houses on the street might hold value, but acknowledging that we still need distractions like 'fun books' if circumstances allowed.

"Truck three, hit the residential area, on Langley Street," you continued when the men nodded their heads, "Truck four, hit the shops to our right on second street," everyone started moving and you shouted, "wait!" You cleared your throat once again, "Team leaders, I need you and your right hand man, everyone else stay put."

You pulled out the grid as the men surrounded you, "So you've got the left and right sides on your street, split in half, half on Side A, the left, half on side B, the right, this will increase the time we can spend in the houses and avoid stepping on each others feet. Every time you clear a house you call it in, for example, team four A, you would say 'Team Four, A1 clear, moving to A2,' or 'Team Four A Trapped, requesting Four B at A3.' I need you to do this so I can designate resources and men, keep up with the lives and walkers. No need for needless death, check in." Everyone nodded, you smiled, "Anybody have questions, comments or concerns?" The men shook their heads and you turned back towards the crowd, "Alright, everyone knows what you're doing, no-one goes anywhere alone or unarmed. Take everything useful. Do not let your guard down and watch your backs. Dismissed." At that the men dissipated, going on their own assignments.

"Was that okay?" You looked to Negan, the need for approval swimming through your eyes, Negan nodded, "I think it was great, Simon what about you?" Simon chirped up, "Oh yeah, couldn't have done it better myself, I don't make them check in that much but that's okay." You smiled at Simon, wondering how he could not worry about his men that much. You watched as Team One had already started moving toward the first building, them the first check-ins started.

"Team One, heading to A1," a pause, "Team One, heading to B1," another pause, "Team Two, heading to A1." You listened to the team list off their locations, smiling as everyone checked in. "Alright, doll," Negan leaned against the truck, "Where to first?"

#twd negan #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #negan x y/n #negan angst #negan fluff #negan x you #negan imagine #negan fic #negan fanfiction #negan x reader #the walking dead fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #Jdm fanfic

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blueaura · 3 years

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Lost and Found Ch. 7

A/N: I was supposed to finish this chapter the day before yesterday but then the finale happened and I needed time to recover. I loved it - it wasn’t perfect but I still absolutely loved it. It made me cry, which I detest but I still loved it. If anyone wants to talk about the finale, send me an ask or a message! Thanks to everyone who’s read and re-blogged it this far. As always, any tips and suggestions are welcome. Feedback would be amazing. Thank you and happy reading!

Summary: Sam and Dean meet a young hunter who is a little rough around the edges and they reluctantly take her under their wing. But she might be a little more connected to them that any of them realise.

Word Count: 2.6k

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Y/N didn’t know how to feel when Dean said they were 10 minutes out. She was nervous and anxious at the prospect of entering an unknown environment, but she was also reluctantly looking forward to not sleeping in a motel room anymore. She tried to desperately keep herself calm as they approached the bunker. The car ride had been surprisingly enjoyable. Dean’s music was similar to her tastes and they had a lot of fun annoying Sam, who ended up plugging in his earphones. The tension present in the beginning of the ride had melted away by the third Metallica track, and Y/N had finally relaxed after all the excitement of the previous day. But now she felt all her emotions crowding her, bombarding her senses as the distance between them and her new home continued to shrink. Temporary new home, she reminded herself.

Dean noticed her little freak out session in the backseat but decided against pulling over. He knew that if he gave her the slightest chance, she’d run, even if deep down she wanted this. So, he just continued driving and hoped that she would have an easier time once they arrived and she had a chance to unwind.

The bunker came into view just a few minutes later and Dean winced as he belatedly realised how this abandoned building would look to a stranger like Y/N. He didn’t exactly see any option other than to get her inside the bunker and re-affirm that she’s safe, so he pulled up in front of the huge building as Y/N took in her surroundings.

“This is your home?” she sounded skeptical, but not afraid which Dean took as a good sign.

“It was an old men of letters bunker and since they were all wiped out in the 50s, as legacies, we took over. Our grandfather was a member.” Sam had already jumped into nerd mode and started explaining who the men of letters were, so Dean figured his brother could handle Y/N and busied himself with unlocking the front door.

Y/N walked down the steps still not exactly sure this was as awesome as Dean had described in the car, but then the entirety of the bunker came into view and she looked around in awe. Sam and Dean exchanged looks of barely contained glee as they saw the young hunter excitedly explore the place. This was probably the most animated they had seen her in their short time together. She actually looked and acted like a kid and Dean’s heart ached at the unfamiliar sight.

“This is amazing! You guys have your own freaking bat cave!”

Sam started to explain everything to Y/N and Dean took this opportunity to go in search of their resident angel. With a quick word to his brother, letting him know where he was going, Dean made his way to Cas’s room leaving Y/N and Sam to nerd it out.

He knocked on Cas’s door but heard no response. Worried, he twisted the handle to find it unlocked. He opened the door completely and stopped in his tracks, smiling wryly at the sight that greeted him. Cas had apparently taken Sam’s suggestion to heart. He was lounging in what looked like Dean’s sweatpants and hoodie, with Netflix playing on the TV he had apparently dragged from Sam’s room to his own. Cas himself was sound asleep, the dim light from the TV letting Dean see the drool on his face. He snickered quietly and took out his phone to click a picture.

Although Cas looked better than before, Dean was still worried about his friend. Just the fact that he needed to sleep was enough to tell him that Cas wasn’t at full strength, despite his claim that he was better. He contemplated waking the angel up and introducing him to Y/N but decided against it. He looked relaxed for the first time in days and Dean couldn’t find it in his heart to disturb him just yet.

After taking a couple of more pictures, for blackmail material of course, Dean finally left Cas to rest, closing the door lightly behind him. Instead of joining Sam, he decided to make up a room for Y/N and hunt down some food. He chose the room right in front of his, so that if she had any problem, she could come straight to him. He also realised at that particular moment that he cared more about this girl than he did for his privacy and it was a little jarring for Dean Winchester. He knew Sammy would probably make fun of him for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He made his way back to the war room after making sure Y/N’s room had everything she could need, and realised that Sam had moved on to the library where Y/N was currently exclaiming over all the different books, seemingly over her hesitation of staying with them.

“Well, Cas is asleep and I think your room is missing a TV. And possibly some clothes. He was lounging in sweats which is a first. But at least he looked better,” Dean said to Sam.

“I thought angels didn’t sleep?” Y/N turned to Dean, still at ease, which made him less anxious about having her there. Maybe it would just work after all.

“Usually they don’t. Cas… he already wasn’t at full strength but then this witch Rowena put a rabid dog curse on him – it’s a whole thing, I’ll explain later. But he was pretty wiped out and I guess he’s still recovering. He doesn’t look near death anymore though, which is good.”

“I’m more surprised that he’s actually wearing something other than his usual look,” Sam snorted.

“Yeah, I don’t think we’ve ever seen him wearing normal clothes besides that one time when he was human – it’s a long story,” he said before Y/N could ask.

“You’ll tell me later I presume,” she said wryly, echoing his previous statement, “You guys have a lot of long stories.”

“What can I say? Our lives are interesting,” Dean grinned. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

He walked her through the bunker, showing her the common washrooms, the kitchen and pointing out his and Sam’s rooms.

“And this,” he pushed open the door, “is yours. You can personalise it if you want. I’m right next door and Sam’s is right down the hall so, holler if you need anything.”

Y/N looked inside and suddenly the overwhelming feeling came back. Her own room. For the first time in her life she had a place she could call her own, albeit temporarily, she had to keep reminding herself.

“Thanks,” she said, and if she sounded a little choked up, Dean mercifully didn’t mention it.

“Settle in and get some rest kiddo,” he nodded at her, “Cas will probably be up in an hour or so… you can meet him then.”

He hesitated at the door. “Have you… did you change your mind?” he cleared his throat roughly, “about Cas and the… thing I mean.”

“I… I don’t know Dean. Maybe later. It’s already too much right now.”

She felt awful when he visibly deflated, cursing herself for hurting someone who had been nothing but kind to her.

“Yeah, alright. No problem, kid. Just – let me know if you change your mind.”

He quickly left the room after that.

Y/N was pacing her new room. She couldn’t get over the defeated look on Dean’s face. She knew he wouldn’t show it, but he too really wanted to get it over with. If she was being honest with herself, so did she. She was just scared.

The more Sam reiterated the idea, the stronger it grew in her head. At first, she had laughed at the mere implication that Dean Winchester could be her biological father, but then she started building it up in her head, and now she honestly needed to know. Because now she wasn’t sure it was a joking matter, after all.

But for a person like her to even begin to grasp the idea of family was too much. She wasn’t scared of whatever the results could be. She could do worse in that area. What scared her was whatever came after – after finding out the truth. She once again felt anger rising for her mother. If only she had been honest, this wouldn’t be happening. But then again, Sandra L/N was hardly ever honest.

Could she be happy here? It was safe, she had access to food. It was a home base – everything she had dreamed of having in the last few years since she had been alone. And rationally, she knew Sam and Dean wouldn’t hurt her – at least not intentionally. She usually took much longer to trust someone but there was just something about them that made her feel… safe. Something she hadn’t felt with anyone in a long time.

So maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She was pretty sure they wouldn’t pressure her to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with – Sam had reassured her of that much already. And maybe she would finally have someone to look out for her and in return she could look out for them.

She started pacing more furiously as she went over multiple scenarios in her head, overthinking every little detail. Family equalled hurt and pain in her head. And for Y/N, it had always been difficult to win against her head. She remembered when she used to believe in her mother, before she had realised that she was just a burden to her – someone she got saddled with and had no choice but to drag around. She hadn’t stopped hunting when Y/N was born, in fact she had thrown herself more into it. Her recklessness was what had finally done her in. Y/N had mostly been left with the neighbours or cheap babysitters when she was younger, before her mother decided that she was old enough to survive without supervision. She had been 6 at the time.

She had figured out how to survive by herself and she was good at it. She didn’t mind being alone, but she also craved affection, which created a weird juxtaposition of want and need inside her, that she mostly tried to bury deep down. The past week had thrown her life into a complete frenzy and all her defence mechanisms seemed useless at that moment.

Before she could spiral further, Sam knocked at her door, to fetch her for dinner. She visibly reigned herself in, but Sam didn’t comment once – just gave her an understanding smile. All these little instances were piling inside her head – how kind the Winchesters were to her and how much they seemed to care about her, making her crave that connection with them that she was too scared to allow herself to form.

“Cas is up. He’s in the kitchen with Dean, so you can meet him now,” Sam said as he started leading the way to the kitchen. Y/N’s steps faltered behind him. He paused and looked back at her,

“Hey, it’s alright. Cas is not gonna hurt you and we’ll be there the entire time,” Sam tried to console her.

“I know… I think I’m just realising that I’m about to meet an actual angel,” she squeaked, forgetting everything else for a minute.

Sam smiled at that. He remembered how overwhelmed he had been when he’d first met Cas, although the meeting hadn’t been a great one. He and Dean sometimes forgot that having an angelic best friend was not common for everyone else.

“You’ll be fine. Cas isn’t like other angels – for one, he isn’t a complete dick,” Sam laughed as he continued with Y/N in tow.

“Easy for you to say. I have never even met an angel before!” This easy camaraderie with the brothers was what was pushing her to get over her fears and Y/N could feel that pull again – the need to find out more.

“Well, you’re about to in a minute. Come on,” Sam gently pushed her in front of him, guiding her to the kitchen.

She saw Dean first, who was handing a cup of coffee to, she presumed, Castiel. Cas wasn’t what she imagined he would be. He didn’t seem intimidating. He had a ridiculous case of bedhead going on and it looked like Dean was in mother-hen mode again, as Cas was wearing a blanket around his shoulders that he didn’t seem too happy about.

Dean turned to her and smiled, gesturing for her to take a seat as he put the final touches to the pasta he’d whipped up.

“Well, looks like it’s introduction time! Y/N, this is our best friend and resident angel – Castiel. Cas, this is Y/N,” Dean grinned as Cas tried to awkwardly shake Y/N’s hand.

“It’s really good to meet you Y/N. I understand that you’re looking for some answers I may be able to provide. I hope I can be of assistance,” Cas’s voice was very deep, which surprised Y/N. She weakly smiled back at him, not entirely comfortable with the subject.

“Ah, yes. We’re gonna take a rain-check on that bud. You’re not at full strength yet and I don’t want you to derail your recovery,” Dean didn’t want to put Y/N on the spot and say she didn’t want to find out yet. The kid had been through enough.

“Dean, I’m fine,” Cas said, annoyance clear in his voice, “It barely requires me to do anything. I just need to look at her soul.”

“My soul?” Y/N squeaked, but no one heard her because Dean was suddenly almost yelling.

“Wait, wait, wait! Look at her soul? Like what you did to that boy, and to Sam when he was soulless? Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“Sam was what?” her voice was even more high-pitched now but again, she was ignored.

“No Dean. I don’t need to touch her soul to recognise it. I merely need to look at it carefully, with her permission of course. I’m very familiar with your soul, I would recognise a piece of it anywhere,” Cas assured in a soothing voice. Dean was now looking away, embarrassed and Y/N wondered what was going on there. She turned to Sam – confusion clear on her face. He just shook his head, exasperated. Clearly, he had been stuck watching this dance for a long time.

“Yeah, alright. As long as there’s no soul touching involved. That isn’t pleasant from what I’ve seen. And look, there’s no rush alright? You need to rest a little more and Y/N needs some time to adjust,” Dean said much more calmly now that he knew he wouldn’t be subjecting Y/N to excruciating pain.

Cas was clearly rearing up to argue with Dean about his ability to perform the task, regardless of his recovery, when Y/N spoke from behind them.

In that split second, she decided that it was no use putting it off until later. She would either drive herself crazy or talk herself out of it entirely and run away from the only safe place she knew.

“Alright. Do it.”

Everyone stopped talking immediately, which unnerved Y/N to no end, but she steeled herself against the scrutiny. This was it. This was her choice.

“Let’s do this,” she repeated, nodding for good measure.

Dean looked at her for a good minute, then nodded to Cas, clenching his fists even as Sam moved to stand beside him and Cas came to stand in front of where Y/N was sitting.

She exhaled sharply as she felt his palm touch her forehead. It was show time.

Chapter 8

TAGS: @vicmc624 @carisi-sonny @zizzlekwum @geekqueen5 @mondefantastique @lemondropirwin @hamildork @mrswhozeewhatsis

If anyone else would like to be tagged, please send me an ask (: Thanks for reading!

#supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean x reader #sam x reader #castiel #castiel x reader #dad!dean x daughter!reader #platonic relationships #Cee tries to write

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lucky-bucky-boy · 4 years

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Cruel Summer Pt. II

Summary: Based loosely off of Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift. Huge muse for this part was also Resentment by Kesha. After what was considerably one of the worst nights to ever be lived, things just seem to keep getting worse. Or will they?

Word Count: 2634

Warnings: Angst, lots of fucking angst, the reader talking a lot, manipulative speech, very slight age gap, anxiety, almost ddlg elements but not quite (Please let me know if I missed anything, I will be happy to add on)

A/N: Tags are at the bottom I know this had been long awaited and I’m so sorry it took so long. I had to rewrite the beginning so many times because the first part just seemed to flow so beautifully and I was having troubles encapsulating the grace. Will be added to AO3 at some point. NO spoilers, takes place before the events of Knives out. Read Part One Here

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs, likes, comments, and constructive criticism welcomed and highly appreciated.

Golden rays of sunshine creeped over rooftops, illuminating the room as it fought the cold of the night out that had settled in every crevice - a cold that was a constant reminder of the half empty bed. Soft sheets and expensive pillows that we no better than the pictures that were facedown on the dresser. A light snore and ball of exuberant warmth curled at the end of the unnecessary king size bed that somehow managed to ignite joy while drowning the feeling with sorrow. Even in the early morning hours, just minutes after the sun had risen, there was only one thing to be thought about, one person; Ransom.

An insistent vibrating disturbed what little peace had fallen over the room, uncharacteristically early to the weekly norm. Even after it would stop, moments later it would begin again and it seemed that it wasn't going to go away anytime soon. A crack in the foundation, a rumbling earthquake that rocked the stability and what had started becoming a little better everyday was ready to crumble and fall.

Paying attention to details should be a strong suit for someone who had two books published and one in the works - it was a talent that was nearly mastered by this point. But, emotionally drained and foggy brained from the expense that was a Thrombey family dinner, one that would surely be the talk of the family for months, and a restless night filled with discomfort and anxiety left any common sense buried under endless amounts of exhaustion.

A quick swipe of a thumb, the light press of the cell phone to your ear, and suddenly everything froze. The feeling as if suddenly bathed in freezing water while fiery coals scorched your feet, butterflies lifting your chest higher to cloud nine while a pit opened in your stomach, heart racing with some wild mixture of dread and excitement; "My house at 3. Don't be late, baby girl."

That godforsaken drawl, the smirk that was evident in his voice, the fucking nickname. The line went dead, a heavy silence flooding the room like a tsunami. Thoughts raced in circles, picking apart and trying to guess what he could possibly want.

Was he going to rub it in your face that he got under your skin? Made your blood boil? Of course he knew how he affected you, he knew you too well, better than anyone would like to admit. An apology? No - that's too far fetched, even after everything Ransom never was the one to apologize, even if he also knew it would be best. Possibly he had gathered the rest of your things, finally ready to rid himself of them. It's not like you took much when he told you to leave, and it was unlikely he would have taken the time himself to go through everything. He probably paid the maid extra to do it overnight so he wouldn't have to.

Either way, after last night, Ransom was the last person you wanted or expected to hear from. The sting of the incident, salt that was rubbed roughly in an aging wound, still fluttered deep in your chest. His words, the family's reaction, the countless notifications still untouched. Nothing anyone could have told you or showed you would have prepared you for what you had felt in that moment.

Heavy limbs moved numbly but swiftly, mind working like the rusted innards of a clock, slow and almost confused. It didn't make sense as to why he would want to see you, he had done enough damage as is. The confusion quickly boiled over, simmering down to a fluttering anxiety of constant what ifs running their courses through your mind.

The growing pup stirred at the feel of you moving from the bed, quickly laying his head back down when he saw you trudge into the bathroom. After a much longer than anticipated shower, the feel of the too warm water running down your skin and feeling as though it was washing away every single issue and emotion, a wave a vague normalcy set in.

For at least a little you could believe this was normal, that it was just like last summer. Get up, get ready for the day, get some work done, then pamper before heading over to see Ransom. Just this time, there was a slightly different agenda. It wouldn't be all heated kisses, starved touches, and craved intimacy, it wouldn't be whispers of sweet nothings and the comfort of a protective embrace - even if every fiber of you craved it like a bad drug, it couldn't happen again, at least not that easily. And who was to say that was even his plan.

Anticipation made the hours go by slower than what was deemed truly plausible, and no matter what the possibilities of what was to come just wouldn't stop taunting every corner of your thoughts. Embarrassingly so you found yourself preparing much earlier than necessary, restyling yourself a handful of times to make sure stunning couldn't even come close to describing how effortlessly perfect you looked. If Ransom wanted to play games, you were determined to have the ball in your field for as long as possible. And to top it off, you made sure that nothing you had on was bought by him.

But you could only hope that your efforts weren't in vain as you made your way to his house, a place of memories in the middle of pretty much nowhere. An almost 40 minute drive making way for doubts to slowly creep in and settle in the back of your mind. What if he could tell you tried too hard? He could so easily read you, it was as if you were one of your books. Or what if he thought you were trying to impress him? The only time you ever went out of your way to put much effort into your appearance was when you wanted him to really notice you or if he was taking you out. Maybe going in general was a bad idea and this was just some sick joke of his.

But there was no time to back out as you pulled up in front of the house, his sitting silhouette evident through the glass window. Ransom noticed you immediately, moving to sit whatever was in his hands down and made his way to the door, already standing on the porch before you had even gotten out of your car.

A slight uneasiness settled between the two of you, his arms crossed over his chest and eyebrows raised as he watched you, almost expectantly. The look was reminiscent of how your parents would stare you down when you were younger, when you had done something wrong.

You stood outside your car, staring at him and matching his stance, only adding to the annoyance that was written on his face. "What do you want, Hugh?" The irritation in your voice was evident, and you were more than thankful your words didn't fail you. Stomach twisting in intricate knits, chest fluttering, palms becoming clammy; it was a genuine miracle you hadn't tripped over your words.

His set jaw clenched, nostrils flaring as he registered how you spoke to him, how you addressed him, "Just get in here. We need to talk."

A scoff fell from your lips as you made your way inside, "Always the gentlemen, aren't you," you spat, rolling your eyes as you walked towards the kitchen. Despite not intending on staying long, you threw your belongings on the island and leaned against the marble countertop, watching him as he stalked towards you, a nearly predatory look in his eyes. "What exactly do we need to talk about? I feel like last night made our positions pretty fucking clear."

He tsked, shaking his head. "You just don't get it, baby girl, dya?"

Ransom opened his mouth to talk again but you cut him off, agitation finally bubbling over and bordering on rage, "I don't get it?" The words were hissed out and soaked in utter disbelief, "What exactly don't I fucking get, Ransom? The fact that you like to start shit? Or the fact that months after you told me to get the fuck out, you show up to a dinner you don't ever go to to cause a fucking scene, then tell me to meet you at your house the next day? What twisted memory of yours triggered you to suddenly act like you care about me? Why the fuck couldn't you just leave well enough alone?"

The taught muscles of his jaw twitched, intense blues boring into your own gaze. "You're such a spoilt fucking brat," he groaned out. "We had an agreement. No one was supposed to find out, but you had to go and-"

"I had to go and what?" You cut him off once again, only fueling the tension between the two of you and prodding the beast of emotions that was storming inside both of your bellies, "You are the one who opened your mouth, you are the one who fucking started this, all of this. From that night in the fucking bar, to you telling me I was the best thing to ever happen to you, to opening up your mouth last night. You always start it. And you're just pissed I finished it before you could get me to break in front of you."

A lump in your throat was beginning to form, jaw clenching as you swallowed, a feeble attempt to keep your emotions from getting the best of you. The rage was quickly turning into sorrow and hurt, the fire in your chest turning into an ache that couldn't be ignored, "You're just disappointed I waited until I got home, got away from you, to break down. Because you didn't get the satisfaction of seeing the pain you've caused."

There was a sudden twist in the atmosphere, hurricane breaking for a moment of relief before harsh waves continued to crash against the shore, "You act like I wanted to hurt you," his voice was grim, face painting in slight disgust, "Everything was great between us - You are the one who broke the rules. Not me."

Ransom's head cocked to the side some, gaze moving over your features quickly, examining and calculating, "And even now," a small huff in disbelief as he shook his head, large hand moving to run through his hair which you had just noticed was free of any products. Odd, even for him. "Even now, you still came, you're still here. And I'm still thinking of giving you another chance."

Something buried deep within you snapped, a flood of pain filling every nerve and forcing tears to well in your eyes. "You're giving me another chance?" Any illusion of resolve and strength that had been built up had disappeared as quick as a snap of fingers, uneven breaths doing their best to keep the floodgates closed. "Ransom, you broke my fucking heart," each word filled with more hurt and distrust than the last, each a cut to the man who stood before you, his face softening as he watched you, "You're not the one here who should be giving out second chances, you're the one who should be receiving them."

The realization hit him, a douse of cold water to the face as his mind worked. Silence, albeit slightly uncomfortable, fell between the two of you as the gravity of the last few moments came crashing down. Just as it became too much to handle, lip quivering as the overwhelming urge to cry started becoming harder to fight off, his arms wrapped around you and pulled you into him.

Time seemed to slow, a few broken sobs slipping out, body shaking with the force of each one. The natural scent of him filling your senses, no expensive cologne, the feel of the soft sweater an unwanted comfort. Ransom's arms hugged tighter, lips going to your hairline, and staying like that until reality hit you. A weak push, one he could have easily ignored and overpowered, and he stepped away, his features much more readable, looking far more vulnerable. He was much more vulnerable, much more vulnerable than you were ever used to.

Shaky breaths fell from you, trying to clear the fog that was beginning to form over rational thoughts. Wiping your eyes you looked at him, "What exactly is it that you want, Ransom? Why did you really ask me to come over?"

He looked almost taken aback, confused and dazed by the question, but more so by his own train of thought. His mouth opened then closed, repeating the action a few more times before groaning out exasperatedly. "I don't know, for things to go back to how they were?" It sounded far more like a suggestion than an answer. "Come on, (Y/N), we were good together."

The words came off as if he was trying to convince himself that this was what he wanted. You waited, seeing if he would try to convince you, persuade you like he believed he so easily could, how he used to. "I- No," you shook your head, "I can't do that to myself again, I can't let you do that to me again."

"Do what?" He practically snapped, jaw setting as agitation made home in him once again. He didn't expect it to be so damn hard. He no undoubtedly assumed that he'd immediately have you wrapped around his finger like nothing had changed. "Treat you like a fucking princess? Treat you how you deserve to be treated? You and I both know that you're never gonna be able to find someone who can give you what I gave you, nothing that's going to have that same thrill we did."

Shaking your head you grabbed your bag, throwing it over your shoulder. "See Ransom, you're the one that doesn't get it. I want that more than anything. I want the spontaneous trips and heartfelt gifts. I want the late night conversations and finishing each other's sentences. I would give anything to be on your jet flying to whatever place you're insisting I need to see. I want it all," your voice was practically a whine by the end of it, "But I don't want the sneaking and the hiding. I don't want the separate houses. I don't want lying to everyone."

Running a hand through your hair, you took a shaky breath, trying to calm your nerves. "I need someone who isn't going to just care for me behind a closed door," the calmness of your voice even scared you in the moment, and seeing that Ransom practically froze you could tell he was feeling the same, "I need someone who is going to be there for me how you were, but isn't ashamed of it. That won't get mad when I take cutesy pictures of us on the beach, that won't pretend to hate me in front of their family and friends, that I don't have to pretend is someone else when I'm talking about them. I don't want things to go back to how they were, I want them to be better than they were."

You walked past his nearly frozen stature, heading for the door. "I love you Ransom, and probably always will. But I love myself more than that and I can't let myself be hurt like that again."

The words echoed off the hallway, ringing in his ears and sitting like a heavy weight on his chest. Your reached for the door, stopping suddenly as his voice reached back out, "Wait - I- fuck," he let out a shaky breath. "Don't leave. Not yet at least. Can we sit and talk over dinner? Please."

Taglist: (Slash through means unable to be tagged) @sweetlittlegingy @star-spangled-steve @jessiejunebug @fresa-luna @thegirlwithpaperheart @jesaigne @introvertedmouse @sinner-as-saint @sp2900 @qrndevans @dammitcaswhy @livsheph @darcia22 @paranjaperiyauniverse @dramaticsassmaster @rose-k @lovemesomeavengers @steeeeverogers @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @bemysugarbean @dreamlesswonder86 @ambrosixx @heyiamthatbitch @daazzeey, @fresa-luna @bitchcraftandwitchery @thatoneslytherinbeater @breezyfreezey @quesadellacatburglar @renxzs @imsonick @sambucky8 @honeybabybubba

#ransom #ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombey x you #chris #chris evans #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #cruel summer #cruel summer fan fiction #knives out #knives out fanfiction

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

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Good Omens - I Was Given Four Rules to Follow ... I Broke Every One: Chapter 1/3 (Rated PG13)

Summary: When Warlock Dowling is summoned to the old South Downs cottage of Aziraphale and Crowley to help clean out their attic, presumably after their deaths, he is given four rules to follow.

... He breaks every single one.

Notes: For @silver-colour

Written for the @tricketyboo2020 prompt "Creepypasta format story (like a found footage or witness statement kind of thing)" by silver-colour. It is a mild reworking of an older fanfic of mine, but that goes tongue in cheek with the ending of this story sort of. XD I would put this between Spooky Level 2 and 3, with 3 being "major and minor character death, disturbing images or concepts, major dark themes, major violence, etc." But there's only minor mentions of blood/body horror. But the whole undead thing is a trigger for some people and I lean into that imagery a bit. I wanted this to be a sort of leveled up Goosebumps tale. Tl;dr proceed with caution <3

Chapter 1

I am going to die.

I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die.

I have to keep repeating it because I have to come to grips with it.

I am going to die.

Not in sixty years.

More like sixty minutes.

Oh, Amanda. I am sorry.

If you ever hear this … I never meant for this to happen.

My name is Warlock Dowling and I am 34 years-old. Devoted son and husband, I’ve spent over a decade working towards achieving my dream of following in my father’s footsteps and entering politics one day.

It’s a dream I don’t think I’ll be seeing through to the end.

I am telling you this because after reading what I’ve just read … and hearing what I’ve just heard … I am not certain I’m going to make it through the night.

I broke the rules.

There were four. Only four. And I broke them.

I didn’t break them by accident. I absolutely did it on purpose. I’m not suicidal or anything, but you only live once - am I right?

For the record, I don’t regret a single thing.

…

That’s not entirely true.

I’ll regret dying before morning if that’s the way things play out.

Today happens to be October 31st - Halloween night. I’d been tasked with clearing out the attic above a cottage in The South Downs which once belonged to a pair of old family friends. Technically, they were ex-employees of my parents from back when I was young, but I thought of them as surrogates. They practically raised me, educated me, taught me everything I know about coping in this cruel, pathetic world.

I held them in the highest regard.

They were the only people in my life who treated me as if I could become more than what I had been born into, that fate had something else in store for me. Because of them, I met the best friends a boy could ever have.

I will forever be grateful for that.

Cleaning out this attic was the least I could do to repay them, but to be honest, I don’t know who summoned me here. I assumed it was the executor of their estate, but now I’m not so sure. Looking over the letter in my hands, there is no legible signature. And the gold embossed emblem at the top that I took for granted as belonging to some upscale legal firm is, on closer inspection, gibberish - a mess of fleur-de-lis underscored by Latin words that roughly translate to “the cows shall rise”.

Ludicrous, right?

How did I miss that?

But more ludicrous - and confusing - are the rules.

I had been given rules about cleaning this attic.

The first rule on the list was to touch only what I could see. Under no circumstances was I to open any of the boxes or chests.

So, naturally, I opened every single one.

The second rule was not to put anything on. Fine by me. The only clothes up here are old lady outfits and a pair of white satin shoes.

But …

There was an awesome vintage leather jacket hanging on a dressmaker’s dummy in the corner and … well … it had my name written all over it! I had to try it on, see if it fit.

And it does.

Rule number three - keep to my torch. Don’t light any candles.

Nuh-uh! It’s Halloween! And torches are lame. So on the candles went. Jeez, there are a lot of them. Enough to burn down the whole place if I’m not careful. It actually seems like they’ve multiplied since I’ve been up here.

I won’t lie - it’s unsettling.

But according to the list, rule number four is the most important:

Don’t read any books I find. And definitely not out loud.

The first thing I saw when I entered the attic was a stack of leather-bound books. I scoffed at the sight of them, piled up to my chin, right inside the entryway. Isn’t that a bit like putting a huge bowl of candy front and center on your dining room table in the middle of dinner with a huge sign saying, “Do not eat?” If the most important rule about going into the attic is, “Don’t read anything!” why not put all the books on a high shelf?

Or the moon?

I’m not a book lover. I read hundreds of pages a day for work. I definitely don’t do it for fun. So this shouldn’t have been a hard one for me to follow.

But they looked like diaries.

And diaries hold secrets.

That made them a different matter all together.

I couldn’t resist.

But once I opened the top one, I knew I’d made a mistake.

These weren’t just any diaries.

They were the diaries of my two friends - Aziraphale and Crowley.

There had always been something odd about those two. I didn’t believe for a second that they were a proper nanny or gardener, not even when I was a young, impressionable child. But they were funny - a distraction from the dull as dishwater life of an attache’s son.

Yes, I was a spoiled little rich kid with everything I could ever ask for handed to me and, on top of that, diplomatic immunity.

Woe was me.

I realize how much of a douche whining about that makes me sound.

My life was still dull.

I was still lonely.

I never knew for sure what happened to them after they left us. I made assumptions - erroneous assumptions. I thought they lived happily ever after at least.

Now I know … that wasn’t the case.

I’m recording this in the hopes that someone will find it, so that you might know the true story of what happened to them …

… and why you might not be hearing from me again.

***

The Diary of Aziraphale Fell - Reluctant Widower

January 14th-

“Please, sir,” the decrepit woman hissed, but not unkindly. She came about her speech impediment by a mixture of symptoms - her thick accent coupled with her indeterminable old age caused her to talk that way. “Please, reconsider this decision.”

I glared at her regardless. I knew my eyes were bloodshot; my hair a mass of tangled, wayward strands; my lips quivered from constant, unrelenting crying.

“You said you had it!” I screamed, bypassing her arguments. “You said you would sell it to me! Wh---why else would I come here!?”

“You need to understand,” the woman implored, opening her hands in a pleading gesture. She fixed me with one clear blue eye, the other eye clouded – a useless, milky white lump of tissue bulging inside its socket, “what you ask for … it is unnatural.”

“But your granddaughter said it was a done deal!” I persisted, shooting a steely glare at the simpering young woman who ducked behind her grandmother to hide from my volatile stare. I wasn’t about to leave without the item I came for. At this point, I was willing to tear the place apart and everything inside - including the two of them - to get it.

They must have sensed that.

Even as the woman continued to defy me, she looked slightly more afraid than she had a minute ago.

“My granddaughter is foolish!” The woman directed the comment over her shoulder to the girl cowering there. “But she means well. We need the money. She was thinking with her head and not her heart.”

“I can pay you twice what you’re asking!” I reached into my back pocket for my wallet. “Three times! I’ll give you whatever you want!”

The girl, intrigued by my proposal, peeked over her grandmother’s shoulder, but the woman turned and barked sharply at her in a language I could not understand.

That was when I began to think I might be in danger.

I’d spent my entire life studying languages, so hearing one I didn’t comprehend, not even an inch, sent a shiver down my spine.

“Mr. Fell …” The old woman reached out, I presumed to comfort me, and took my shaking hand in hers “… your husband is dead. And I am more sorry than I can ever express at your loss. You carry your love for him like a beacon. I see it in your eyes. It shines from every part of you. With him gone, it is up to you to carry it. It will never fade as long as you remember him.”

Those were, without a doubt, the kindest words anyone had said to me since my husband passed. I crumbled, new tears falling hot down my cheeks. But regardless of her sympathy, sincere though it might be, I refused to relent.

I refused!

“I don’t want to remember him!” I whimpered, my anger renewed at the sound of my voice fracturing. “I want him here with me! I need you to help me bring him back!”

The woman sighed in pity but shook her head.

“The effects of life are varied, Mr. Fell. Our fate … it changes every day, with every choice that we make. But the effects of death should remain permanent.”

I flinched at that word as if she’d struck me across the face.

Permanent.

Crowley dead … my husband gone … and nothing for me to look forward to in life but emptiness. We’d had every moment of our lives planned together.

One arsehole drunk driver later and now I was alone.

I literally had no one.

I had lost contact with my mum early in life, never knew my father, didn’t have children of my own. My boss and mentor was an abusive prick who tormented me throughout the span of my career until I found a way out from under his thumb.

Until Crowley helped me discover a life where I didn’t need the man’s guidance or control.

But now I was going to lose him!? The only one who had stuck by me, who defended me, loved me through thick and thin!?

No! That was beyond cruel! And I wasn’t going to roll over and accept it!

I let the sorrow within me curdle, turn sour as I yanked my hand out of the old woman’s grasp.

“Your granddaughter said there are other methods of getting what I want!” I snarled. “Dangerous methods. Methods that might require payment in sacrifice … even blood. And not necessarily my blood. Innocent blood, if you catch my meaning.”

Both women gasped.

Despite the conversation at hand, I smiled.

Good, I thought. We were finally all on the same page.

Up until a few days ago, I never considered violence to be the answer to anything. But I had since come to a crossroads where an exception had made itself clear.

I was prepared to annihilate my humanity to get my husband back.

The old woman snapped her head over her shoulder, scolding her granddaughter in a harsh, guttural voice. The girl, who had started to brave coming out of hiding, shrank down once again.

“Be reasonable,” the woman begged, “please, and think about what you are saying. What you are willing to do.”

“No,” I said, my calm more potent than my anger … or so my husband used to say. “The time for me being reasonable is over. I will get what I want, no matter what the cost. The question is whether or not you will be the one to give it to me.”

The woman looked down at her gnarled hands and sighed a long, exhausted sigh. “Alright, Mr. Fell. I will sell the potion to you at the promised price.”

I stared at her for a moment in shock. I was relieved, of course. I hadn’t thought I would get this far. It frightened me how much I had begun looking forward to throttling her with my bare hands, imagined her neck snapping within my grasp, effortlessly like a twig.

That couldn’t be me though. I wasn’t that kind of person. It was this place - this shop and all of its trinkets, their age and professed magical abilities amplifying my grief, turning every rational thought I had into rage.

I had to get out of here and fast before I did something I might regret.

I opened my wallet with the onset of happier tears and thumbed through the bills, pulling out extra for the joy of getting what I wanted. I handed the money over, but the woman refused to touch it. She waved it away, her granddaughter popping up long enough to grab the money and then scurry off again. The woman reached into the folds of her skirts and retrieved a leather pouch that hung from a thin belt around her waist. From it she fished out a tiny blue bottle with a cork stopper sealing the mouth. She gave it a long, troubled look, then handed it to me.

For the first time, her hand trembled.

“Pour the contents of this bottle into your husband’s mouth, Mr. Fell,” she instructed, “and your husband will return.”

I held the bottle up to the dim candlelight of the musty Soho shop. The blue glass glimmered, a thick liquid inside swaying back and forth, shimmering like sun-tossed sparkles across a dark, foreboding sea.

“There are some rules that go along with that potion,” the woman said, her voice weeding into my head, summoning me back from my momentary trance, “and a few warnings you must heed as well.”

I sighed. I had hoped it would be a simple matter of giving my husband the liquid and living happily ever after, but I knew in my heart that nothing was ever that simple.

“Okay,” I said, slipping the bottle carefully into my pocket and patting over it twice to ensure its safety. “Tell me. What are the rules?”

“First of all, you will give that to your husband, but what will come back …” she paused, swallowed hard “… will not entirely be your husband.”

I nodded. I had expected her to say something along those lines, like a scene straight from an old time-y horror movie.

The woman locked both eyes, one clear and one clouded, on my face as I waited for her to finish her speech, eager to go back home and get on with my life. She realized, with regret, that I had every intention of going through with this, and took on the heavy burden of allowing this to continue.

“Be there to look into his eyes when he wakes,” she said.

I hadn’t dreamed of leaving his side, but since the woman made such a point of it, I asked, “Why?”

“He is being reborn, in a sense. And like other simple-minded creatures, he will imprint on the first person he sees.” She took my hands and squeezed them. “That person needs to be you!”

My gulp was audible, the weight of her words and of my plan suddenly settling within me. They pressed in on me, like that moment when the police came to my door. Their words – “Mr. Fell? I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but … it’s about your husband …” had turned me inside out, left my heart out in the cold.

I felt that cold now.

“Once the potion absorbs into his tissues, it will restart his heart,” she continued. “Then the potion will replicate. It will begin to take the place of his blood. It will make him calm, easier for you to control.”

I nodded again. I wanted to say something, assure the woman that I understood, but she didn’t pause long enough for me to speak. It wouldn’t have mattered. I saw the trepidation in her one, clear eye. I had no clue what to say to make this better.

“It will be a slow process, and you must learn to be a patient man!” She raised her voice, letting go of one hand to waggle an emphatic finger in front of my face. “You will be teaching him, raising him as you would a child. Remember, even if only a small portion of his soul returns, that soul belongs to your husband, and you must love him or this will not work!”

The woman stepped back, out of breath from her outburst, and her granddaughter (whom I had forgotten about) returned, pushing forward an ornate but dusty antique chair to catch her in. I held the woman’s arms gently and helped her into it, feeling strangely protective. The woman sat and waved us both off, not wanting us to make a fuss when she still had more to say.

“But most importantly,” she labored on, barely missing a beat in her speech, “do not let him taste blood.” I knelt down so that she didn’t feel the need to yell for her words to reach me. “He cannot eat meat, but most of all, don’t let him bite you or lick your wounds. Or anyone else’s – human or animal.”

“Will … will I become a zombie? If he does bite me?”

I’m not quite sure why the word ‘zombie’ leapt to my mind. In every interaction I had had with the woman’s granddaughter before tonight, she had been so careful not to use that term. She used other, more romantic euphemisms such as ‘bring back to the land of the living’, ‘re-associate with life’, and the most used - ‘rebirth’. But that’s what he would be, right? When we moved past the flowery vernacular and got right down to it? This potion I had pocketed would turn my husband into the walking dead, - a simple-minded creature that was once deposed from this Earth.

And that meant ‘zombie’.

As if I had nothing more pressing at hand, I suddenly recalled the Walking Dead marathon Crowley had convinced me to watch (against my better judgement). Crowley thought the show was hilarious, but I could barely make it to the middle of the first season. I had started watching with my hands over my eyes, then with my arm locked around Crowley’s, anxiously smacking his shoulder, and finally with most of my body lying over his lap and my face buried in his shirt.

It wasn’t just the gore in the show that skewered me, made me nauseous, unable to breathe. It was the fear and the pain those characters felt, being chased by a relentless enemy that needed no rest, constantly running into people they couldn’t trust, people who were so out for themselves they no longer believed in the sanctity of life, with nowhere to hide, nowhere safe at all, even behind thick, concrete and metal walls.

Watching your loved ones get turned into soulless monsters - still there, but everything about them that you had once loved out of reach.

And this ‘illness’ or whatever these people had - it spared no one. Even children had become zombies. And in the game that was survival for the remaining uninfected, children had become pawns.

Everything about it seemed so horrendous.

And while I suffered through my existential crisis, Crowley laughed at my antics.

I fought not to smile at the sound of his teasing voice.

“Uh … a little squeamish there, are you, angel?”

Angel.

From the first day we met, that’s what he called me.

Oh, what I wouldn’t give to hear him call me that again!

The old woman chuckled, bringing me reluctantly back from my daydream. “No. Not in this case. That’s not the nature of this spell. No, blood will give him back his memories.”

I looked at the woman, bug-eyed, and shook my head. “I … I don’t …”

“It will ignite his brain. He will begin to feel. In many ways, he will become more the man you married than in any other.”

“Wha---?“ I stuttered, baffled as to how that could be a bad thing. If drinking blood could make Crowley more Crowley, I’d set up an IV drip the minute I got home! I would serve him cups of blood with every meal! I’d make donating blood a requirement for entrance into my bookshop! (That one would definitely kill two birds with one stone. In fact, I might consider doing that anyhow.) “And why wouldn’t I want that again?” I asked, trying not to sound like turning my husband into a blood-sipping fiend was the greatest idea in known history.

The old woman smiled, but it wasn’t fond. It was shrewd, as if she could read every one of my thoughts.

And she didn’t approve.

“Once he has his memories back, he will start to crave it. Soon, drinking blood won’t be enough for him. It won’t work as well. It won’t keep the memories as fresh. He will have to go further, do more. He will become a killer.”

My face must have gone as green as I felt because the woman laughed again, this time with a touch of wickedness. A killer? My Crowley? My sweet, kind, compassionate Crowley?

Okay, maybe I was going too far with the endearments. He’d been a bit of a bastard, after all. Which was why I could picture Crowley becoming a full-fledged bad boy. With that leather jacket he wore like a second skin and his gleaming classic car, he’d been well on his way.

But a killer? No.

Then again, I was willing to become one myself a second ago, so maybe I wasn’t in the best position to judge.

“You are playing with the laws of nature, Mr. Fell,” she said, patting me on the cheek. “You are responsible not only for your own life, but for the lives of those around you.” The woman leaned in close, those eyes – one alive, one dead - more menacing than when I had walked into the shop; her face no longer that of a frail old woman but of a powerful witch.

This time, it was my turn to feel afraid.

“So don’t fuck it up.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #tricketyboo2020 #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #Crowley

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kingofkate · 3 years

Text

Welp. Here I go Ranting again.

This is a rant about an old Manga series called Akuma No Hanayome (Bride of Deimos/Devil). I was super into this a few years ago, looked back on it, picked it up again, ordered the new books, finished what I know to be available. Let it sit for like a year. NOW I have some freaking thoughts about this.

Let me warn you. This is not going to be pretty.

Let’s get into it.

I HATE this series. SO. MUCH.

Don’t know what it is? Let me sum it up for you.

Basically it is roughly 17 volumes and a few more recently published of one guy (a shit head) trying to figure out if he wants to fuck his sister, or a girl who looks just like her but is actually a good person. Still reading? Why?

Anyway, it all starts in ancient Greece or something where Venus and her twin brother are all Gody or whatever. Except get this, they really wanna bone. So they just straight up kiss one day and Jupiter or something is like NO INCEST IN MY HOUSE KIDS!!!! And curses them.

Venus get’s sent to Hades to slowly rot away (a real blow because her beauty is everything) and her brother get’s turned in Deimos, the king of Hades who is ugly because he has horns, wings, and weird ass feet. Not going to talk about how this guy was the closest thing I (an asexual) had to a sexual awakening. He gave me a heart boner. Imma just say it.

Anyway, Venus is all like “ow this sucks. But like... I still wanna bone, you know? So get down there (or up there I guess) and find my reincarnation... or whatever it is, kill her, then I can take over her body and we can totes get it on.”

Deimos thinks this sounds completely reasonable. So he... uh... dicks around for a loooooong time (even though it is shown in issues that she has been reborn like a bunch of times and he’s even met her before!) until we get to where the manga picks up.

We meet Minako. Basically a child (I think she’s in middle school??? Whatever, max age is highschool age). Deimos appears in her dream all cool and normal looking to try to seduce her, which goes south INSTANTLY when she gets a good look at him and he just goes straight into demon mode.

The first few volumes have somewhat of a stable storyline. Somewhat. The basic story is that Minako knows that Deimos wants to marry her and also wants to kill her, that he is a demon, and that he keeps literally murdering all of her friends (or people she meets and likes). Why did he think murder was the best way to win a girls heart? uh...

Yeah, he never really thought this through.

At some point Venus finds a way to turn into a butterfly for some reason and spends the rest of the volumes swapping back and forth between trying to kill Minako and trying to kill Deimos because she rightly assumes he has feelings for Minako.

Deimos on the other hand spends literally 17 full volumes trying to figure out who he loves more. And anyone reading can clearly tell that he likes Minako more even though that’s not how love works at all. Basically, Venus has turned into a vengeful bitch and Minako is still a actually nice person despite how many people in her life have died. It all comes down to one tiny thing: guilt.

Over and over Deimos goes over (usually justifying it to SOMEONE) that he loves Minako (they aren’t dating and any time he spends with her she it telling him to get lost and begging him to not kill her friends) BUT it was his love for his sister that put her in Hades where she is suffering so he feels he owes it to her to kill Minako and give her another chance at life.

Does that sound needlessly complicated? Don’t worry. You have plenty of time to get used to it because this is repeated over in every single issue from Volume 2 onward.

I’m not kidding about that. Every issue starts with Minako doing something different, not referring to the events of the last issue, Deimos shows up, torments Minako about how unfair the world is, kills her friend, then gets all mad she doesn’t want to marry/die with him. Sometimes Venus is in the story. Sometimes it focuses on Deimos where he laments about his sister problems. But for 16 volumes there. is. no. story.

It’s so vague that when reading it online depending where you read it the stories are all mixed up so it’s hard to read it all in one place.

Even when it seems like things are FINALLY going to happen, it doesn’t change. One issue has Deimos finally decides, fuck it, this has gone on long enough, I’m just going to kill Minako and get this over with. Only for a vampire lady to try to kill Manko first, leading to Deimos saving her and deciding not to kill her because the sword he was making to do got burned up in the fight.

In another one Minako gets possessed by the ghost of a dead sister who wants to marry her brother (oh boy) so she wants to transfer her soul into her brother’s wife’s body (OH BOY) and Deimos is like do it, let’s see how this works out. And it seems like he finally has his answer until the brother is like “I love my wife for her soul, not her body” and Deimos is like “YOU CAN DO THAT?!” and the issue concludes with him saying he wants Minako’s soul and body. So no Venus right? WHO FUCKING KNOWS!

The series was dropped for like 20 years or something with no hint of a conclusion until the author picked it up again and a few more volumes were released. I went out of my way to order these from Japan (I do not speak Japanese) so I could see the conclusion but guess what? It was just 4 more volumes of the SAME. DAMN. THING!!!!

Like dammit man/woman just pick one! I don’t even care which one! I’d be satisfied if every single one of them died at this point. I don’t care! JUST END!

I don’t need 3 more stories about Minako actually finding someone who is kind and respects her only for Deimos to make a big deal about “this must be what jealousy is!” until he just pulls some demon crap and kill them in some horrible way. (ex. cured one of cancer so he could be hanged by the state for a murder Deimos tricked him into committing, caused one guy to commit suicide after making him accidentally kill his sister, and I’m sure there is more but I don’t feel like reading the 49 translated issues again to find it)

There is also the point that Minako keeps falling in love with guys who are the complete opposite of him. They are nice, treat her well, respect her, normally blonde I think?, and oh, did I mention they don’t kill everyone around her on a daily basis? No? Well the didn’t. You know.. before they died...

This is just a crazy unending story about a guy unsure just how much he still wants to fuck his sister and a poor innocent girl getting dragged into it. I hate it. I hate how hot Deimos is. I hate how cute and sweet Minako is. And I hate Venus in general. There are no other characters that manage to last more than an issue. (except maybe death but he only shows up a few times and no one likes him)

What is the conclusion to take from this? I was an emotionally horny tween/teen and overlooked incest for a hot guy. Now I’m older and realize that the incest should have been a huge red flag for an already shitty story that wasn’t a story because the author had no idea where they wanted to take it. They just wanted a hot guy doing bad things to a pretty girl for weird sexy reasons.

Rant over.

Hopefully I won’t think back on any OTHER Manga and end up ranting again. None of you deserve this.

#manga #rant #anime #devil #bride #deimos #akuma no hanayome

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themangoyogurt · 4 years

Text

Misguided Youth: And The Third

Chapter 3

Bouncing on your heels, you roughly rubbed your hands up and down your biceps in an attempt to stave off the cold. The brisk autumnal air was nipping at your exposed neck, and you mentally cursed Phasma’s friend for being late. Knowing what a shitstorm coatcheck usually was after concerts, you decided to forgo wearing a coat, and instead braved the chill in a lightweight military jacket you could tie around your waist. Unsure of what kind of music was being played, you erred on the side of caution with your typical Dr. Martens, ripped skinny jeans, and a thin ribbed henley top in your favorite color.

It would do. It wasn’t like you were here to impress anyone.

Certainly not Kylo.

You groaned thinking about the dark haired man, and immediately hated yourself for it. The guy was a total jackass, and didn’t deserve a single second of your precious time. Not even if he was built like roman statue. The size of his hands didn’t go unnoticed by you either. You definitely didn’t imagine said hands wrapped around your throat while he...

“Hey! You’re Phasma’s guest, right?”

You snapped to attention as a short dark-haired man appeared in front of you. He took in your nod, and immediately reached for a handshake while introducing himself as Mitaka. You followed him towards a metal door marked “Restricted Access” while tugging on a lanyard with a flimsy laminated card that read “VIP”.

He chatted about his job as a freelance writer pitching stories to various magazines and newspapers. Mitaka was ecstatic when Phasma found you. He was hoping to write an article where he would “expose” individuals to musical artists they had never heard, and record the reactions.

Turning to you, he exclaimed, “I didn’t think that I’d ever fine someone who didn’t know K.O.REN! When Phasma told me about you, I felt like I hit a gold mine. Thanks again for coming out!”

“Uh, no problem. This band...they’re really big, huh? Then why are they playing at such a small venue tonight?”

The current building seemed rather small. At least too small for a supposed "big name" band to be messing around in. Didn’t world famous musicians sell out stadiums or something?

“They just got back from Rock am Ring in Germany. It’s a huge three-day metal festival with over 150,000 people. Whenever they finish tours with large audiences, they make sure to book smaller and more intimate venues afterwards. The lead singer says it keeps them grounded.”

It seemed like a respectable thing to do. In fact, it was almost kind of sweet. Suddenly, a word from Mitaka’s sentence jumped out at you.

“Wait...did you just say metal festival?”

“Yeah, they’re a metal-ish band. More hard rock I’d say, but they’re still really popular.”

You thought back to Phasma’s cropped hair bleached white, and the multitude of studs peppered along the collar of her denim jacket. Yeah, she definitely looked “metal-ish”. But Hux and Kylo were dressed far more “normal” in just jeans and simple tops. Maybe they didn’t listen to the same music? But people don’t need to dress a certain way to enjoy different types of music...

Mitaka suddenly cleared his throat, and you were jerked back to the present. He gestured towards a section partitioned off by ropes. The spot was perfect - just out of sight from the audience but with a perfect view of the stage. It seemed as if the concert was close to starting, since everything was set up and the room was filled to the brim with chattering people.

Clear across the stage, you noticed the silhouettes of three people. Even from this distance they all looked ridiculously tall. Squinting your eyes, you tried to make out the individuals, but the bright stage lights were blinding. The only thing you could do was huff and patiently wait for the show to start.

In the meantime, Mitaka rattled off a few key facts regarding the band. He was about to begin a history on their first Grammy nomination, when the house lights suddenly went down. It was clear that the band was much loved, because the crowd immediately went wild. The way bodies shoved towards the front as people began to chant “Knights of Ren” over and over again almost seemed violent.

The first individual stepped out, and you stifled a cry of shock. Phasma was decked out in leopard print leggings, combat boots, and a ripped black shirt. Her denim vest rippled as she lifted up an arm holding onto two drumsticks. The woman struck a pose before settling in behind a drum kit situated on top of a raised platform.

The next individual was no less surprising. Hux strolled out onto the stage, and you were taken aback by how relaxed the man seemed. It almost looked as if he were bored by the entire idea of playing any show, and lazily paused to wave before picking up a bass. Even his wardrobe mimicked his attitude, as he only donned a pair of slim fit black jeans and a thin grey sweater. Mitaka leaned over and whispered that it was a running joke that Hux enjoyed looking as un-metal as possible. In fact, security often mistook him for a pedestrian, and there had been many attempts to escort the man away from backstage.

But the last individual to come out made the greatest impact of all - both with yourself and the crowd. Kylo strutted onto the stage in all of his glory. Full hair swept backwards with tight jeans hugging every curve of his muscular thighs. You didn’t think that you were an ass girl, but shit - Kylo was making you change your mind. Shaking your head, you willed yourself to not find the bastard attractive.

The fact that he was already fucking shirtless was making the job difficult though.

Taut muscle rippled along his forearm and back as he reached out to sling a guitar over his shoulder. Your eyes followed the instrument as it rested over his front, right where two sharp line’s ended at a “v” by his hips.

As if he couldn’t have been hotter, the man opened his mouth and began to sing. You swore that the Beatles had nothing on this man in terms of swooning fans. Men and women alike were clamoring towards the stage as Kylo switched between melodic singing and hard shouts.

Although the music was foreign, something (or rather someone) was compelling you to want more. Just as you were taken into the swell of the chorus, Kylo’s head turned and his eyes felt like a lazer as he stared you down. His gaze remained sharp, and you felt all of the air sucked out of your lungs. For a moment, you thought that you saw something different in his eyes. Perhaps the music made him a softer and more vulnerable man.

But then his face twisted into a smirk as he gave you a cheeky wink before directing your attention with a jerk of his head towards a crying female fan attempting to take her shirt off.

Just like that, your softened feelings for the man dissipated in a single second.

The asshole was peacocking right in front of you - shoving his fame into your face. He is the worst. He is literally the worst. You decided right in that moment that there was nobody in the whole of New York City that you hated more than Kylo Ren. Rage surged in your chest as an ugly thought bloomed - you were brought here to be made into a joke.

The rest of the night flew by in a blur as your emotions flittered between embarrassment and fury. Was the whole plan to make a mockery of you? Pay to take the poor student out for brunch and then laugh at her ignorance behind her back?

You cringed thinking back on how you practically ate half of Hux’s entree even after shoveling several pounds of potatoes into your mouth right in front of a trio of mega-stars.

When the concert came to an end, Kylo’s voice sounded like a faraway echo as his fans screamed over his farewell bid. Stumbling backwards, you wanted nothing more than to escape the impending awkward and upsetting confrontation with the band. You felt your back suddenly collide with a wall and spun around in surprise.

Your eyes widened into open disks as you not only saw, but felt, the sweaty naked torso of Kylo Ren. His lips were pulled up in a lopsided grin as he took in your shocked expression. Your gaze trailed upwards as you took in the way sweat pooled at the tips of his hair and fell to rest in the divot of his clavicle.

“So the firecracker is finally rendered speechless. How’d you like the concert, princess?”

“You...”

Kylo gave you an expectant wink, and you felt fire surge in your chest. Whether it was from anger or lust though, that was up for debate. Finding courage from within, you spat, “You’re an asshole, Kylo Ren.”

With one final glare, you shoved against his chest to brush past the man. He looked towards your back in surprise and shouted, “What the hell is your problem? A ‘thank you’ would be appreciated.”

Whipping around to face the singer you hissed, “Thank you? Thank you? For what? Why did you guys even bring me here? To embarrass me? To laugh at the poor girl who didn’t recognize the ‘biggest rock band in the world’? To shove my face in your success and wealth?”

It was now Kylo’s turn to look surprised. That was certainly not his intention at all. When he got back to his penthouse and had some time to think, the entire situation seemed humorous and rather innocent. And although one could argue that he was an asshole most of the time, he would never consider himself mean spirited. Sure, maybe he did want to show off a little bit, but he definitely wouldn’t go out of his way just to embarrass you.

Always one with words though, he huffed, “Please. Don’t think so highly of yourself.”

Your face blanched at his response, and you angrily ripped the lanyard from your neck and threw it at his face while shouting, “Go to hell, Kylo. Go find someone else to fuck with.” Gesturing towards the man with two middle fingers, you backed away and stormed out through the exit.

Phasma arrived just as the door slammed shut. With hands on her hips, she turned to Kylo and laughed, “Man, I’ve never see you flop so badly with a girl before.”

Kylo looked offended as he scoffed, “Flop? That would imply I would want anything to do with...that.” He jabbed his finger towards the empty space you once occupied.

The drummer gave her friend a look and slowly shook her head. Giving him a pat on the back she replied, “For the longest time I assumed that you had the emotional range of a caterpillar, but she’s proven me wrong. You’re just telling yourself that you hate this chick because you’re worried that you might actually be interested in actually getting to know the girl.”

The man rolled his eyes and replied, “I would hardly consider a minimum wage waitress with a foul mouth interesting.”

Phasma gave him an all-knowing look and shrugged her shoulders. “Well, then you definitely won’t care that I invited her to the afterparty at your place.”

She gave him a wink, and then strolled back on stage to pack up some equipment. Left alone, Kylo slowly considered his friend’s words right before he turned to punch a hole into the wall.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren #kylo ren x you #modern au #misguided youth

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that-bookworm-guy · 4 years

Text

I just wanted to share part of a scene that I’ve just written (so first draft, will be edited in the future)

So a little background to this scene, the story is set around a school for witches. Iris is a witch who comes from a non-magical family and is basically teased for not fitting in. Miss Silverfang is a stern teacher who tells seems to tell kids off for pretty much anything and is very strict, but she does have a kinder side. In a way, she’s a villain to the kids who read the story, but the adults can also kinda relate. She wants the kids to do well in lessons and just buckle down and do their work instead of messing around. A lot of the time when kids screw up, it’s because they didn’t read something properly or because they were messing around. If it’s a genuine accident, then she doesn’t get angry, she will tell the student how to improve for next time. But if their potion blows up because they were just throwing things in there because they couldn’t be bothered, then she is going to get pissed.

Iris and Miss Silverfang, as well as the school bully end up being transported away from the school by a goblin and they need to get back. They borrow 3 broomsticks from a witch, but during their flight, Iris’ broom is sprinkled by pixie dust (pixie are bitches, fuck the pixies) and it causes the broom to throw Iris off, at probably around, idk, let’s say roughly 4- 6 miles in the air. Iris is also 10, I should probably mention that.

Miss Silverfang rescues Iris and the three of them land safely in the school.

Miss Silverfang peeled Iris’ hands off from around her waist and turned to the girl. She gently held Iris’ hands. “Are you hurt?” Iris looked up and shook her head as tears rolled down her cheeks. “You’ve got a bit of wind burn on your face and the back of your hands. It’s not uncommon when you fall from so high up.” Miss Silverfang’s voice was calm and warm. “You had quite a fall there. I assume that pixie had something to do with it?” Iris looked up at Miss Silverfang and burst into tears. She didn’t know why, everything felt a little too much. She could feel her legs shaking and her knees gave way. Miss Silverfang acted quickly catching Iris in her arms and pulling her close to her body, where she held Iris as she cried. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” she said quietly as she gently rocked Iris. “It’s scary when you fall. I still get scared if I lose control. We shouldn’t have flown so high, that’s my fault and I’m sorry for putting you in that situation. You won’t ever fly that high alone, not until you’re all grown up. No matter what happens here, there will always be someone to catch you. You’re safe.” Iris sniffled and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “No,” Miss Silverfang said, “Look at me, don’t ever feel bad for your emotions. Don’t say sorry for how you feel. Apologise for actions, not emotions. Things are big and scary and sometimes things happen, or everything gets a little too much and you don’t know why, but you end up bursting into tears. That’s okay, it’s normal. You were scared and you had a huge fall. You’re allowed to cry.”

This scene, between this ‘stern’ teacher and this child is something I would have loved to have read in a book as a kid. Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t, but I still want this message. ‘It’s okay to be overwhelmed and end up bursting into tears, because it is normal.’

Of course, this is a different situation, she fell. She was scared. But she felt like she should say sorry for crying and basically apologising for how she is feeling. Now this is something I do, a lot. It’s also something I’m trying to stop doing. I started apologising for my emotions because I didn’t feel like I deserved to have them. I also started apologising because of a past relationship where I felt like everything I did, I had to apologise for.

I felt bad for feeling. I still stop myself from crying and feel bad when I do cry. But we shouldn’t. Apologise for actions, not emotions. Apologise if you hurt someone when you were sad or angry. But don’t apologise for feeling angry. We can’t control our emotions, but we can control our actions.

Also, stop telling kids to stop crying!! They cry for a reason, and a lot of the time, they are overwhelmed because things are confusing. Telling them to stop crying instead of trying to find out why they are crying, only causes them to feel shame. Which in turn, can cause anger. Just listen to a child.

Idk, I’m ranting a bit. I guess what I’m trying to say, is even now, I need to remember that it’s okay to cry, that it’s normal, and I don’t have to keep apologising for feelings I can’t control.

#Kyle writes #writing #writer #writeblr #writelr

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yourstreetserenade · 4 years

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📖?

So I have a very old idea that’s been sitting in my docs for roughly 8 years, it was written for BTVS/Angel verse.

It was an Angel/Cordy fic that sort of diverged mid-Season 3. In canon, Angel and Cordelia begin to fall for each other but their getting together is thwarted when a past love interest of Cordelia’s, Groo, arrives in the middle of the season.

I basically reimagined the love triangle scenario and instead of using Groo, I introduced Phantom Dennis as a love interest. If you recall Cordelia’s apartment was haunted by a ghost, Dennis, who often acted as her protector. There was an episode in season one that told the story of how he died and came to inhabit the apartment, 50 years prior to Cordelia’s arrival.

So the story opens up in Dennis’ POV, we see how he watches and protects Cordelia, how he longs to be human again and how he even came to build a friendship with Fred (which is hinted at in canon). Unbeknownst to Angel and Cordelia, Fred and Dennis have been working together. Dennis wants to be human again and Fred has been researching ancient texts, trying to find some kind of spell that will restore Dennis.

One night Fred and Dennis are experimenting with one of these spells and there’s a blast and some charred carpet and wah-la, Phantom Dennis is no longer a Phantom. He’s alive and human again, living and breathing. When Angel and Cordelia arrive at her place (after a night of patrolling) he’s there. Angel is very apprehensive, he’s somewhat territorial over Cordy and he’s not aggressive with Dennis, but he’s definitely nervous about his arrival. Cordy, meanwhile, is shocked but very welcoming. Dennis has always taken care of her and now that he’s human again she wants to help him get on his feet.

The rest of the story is about how Cordelia helps Dennis adjust to the modern world with cell phones and malls and such. They grow closer as Angel grapples with his jealous, with lots of awkward, bumbly Angel that endears him to the reader. Cordy lets Dennis stay at her apartment because it was his before it was hers after all and she doesn’t want to kick him out of his only home. There’s scenes of Cordelia trying to help him talk to women at clubs, there’s a scene where Dennis takes Cordy for a malt. They have several long meaningful talks. Dennis finds her high school year book and says he wishes he could’ve known her then. Cordy reminisces about her time as a mean girl and admits she probably wouldn’t have been very kind to him. Dennis says he would’ve seen through all of that, to the real her, to the woman she is now, the woman she would become. Over a period of time it becomes evident to everyone but Cordelia that Dennis is in love with her.

Over the course of the story Cordelia has been urging Angel to utilize Dennis on missions. She suggests he be a part of the team along with Wesley, Gunn and Fred. Angel isn’t for it but relents eventually to allowing Dennis train with Wesley and Gunn. He lets him hang around the hotel answering phones and running errands but insists he stay out of their fights.

Until one night a Big Bad is on the loose and the gang has to fight it in some dark, damp alley way. Things go down and despite being told to stay behind Dennis follows after and after a mistep, Cordelia is injured in the fight. Angel is livid and blames Dennis and it results in Angel biting his head off (figuratively) and he basically tells Dennis this never would’ve happened if he had just stayed a ghost. Dennis, with his tail between his legs, goes back to sulk at Cordelia’s apartment.

Cordelia recovers after awhile (I believe she has super healing at this point in the show if I’m remembering correctly) and she and Angel have a huge fight over Dennis. They go back and forth about him and Cordelia finally says something like ‘’are you angry at him or are you angry at me?’’ and they get into the fact that Angel has felt insecure about Cordelia spending all this time with him. Cordy and Angel have been dancing around their feelings for the entire season and they finally hash it out with Dennis being the catalyst.

Cordelia and Angel end the conversation in an uncertain place, they’re both still upset....

...I have all of this written out, my problem was each time I got to this point the story told me that organically, I felt like Cordelia should end up in Dennis’ arms. I started it as a Cordy/Angel fic but I kept going back to Cordelia and this background ‘’character’’. Dennis is very much a silent entity on the show so I could make him be whatever I wanted him to be. I made him into a charming slightly dorky guy who’s just a little bit out of his element (being from a different era and all). Throughout the fic there are scenes of Cordelia and human Dennis having conversations about what it means to be alive and to be the best version of yourself and I found myself falling in love with what is essentially Cordelia/OC.

No matter how much I walked Angel back and made him more understanding, more vulnerable, no matter how much Angel/Cordy banter I injected, it still felt like Cordy should end up with the ghost lol. Phantom Dennis is pretty beloved in the fandom but I wasn’t sure if that was something anyone would want to read.

I truly believe it is a beautiful story and while it sounds a little grey, it was actually really funny in some parts. I read it three months ago and was really pleasantly surprised at how engaging it was :)

#ask #theseclouds

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punjabiolympia · 4 years

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6 Richest Female Social Media Superstars

6 Richest Female Social Media Fitness Superstars

Since I made this precise article for the guys, equality calls for we do the identical for the women. Now, one thing fairly fascinating got here up whereas doing a little analysis.

Not solely are these girls packing critical warmth of their financial institution accounts, however the greatest superstars additionally make far more than the blokes. Richest Female Social Media Fitness Stars: 6. Anllela Sagra – $1 Million – $3 Million (Approx.) 5. Michelle Lewin- $5 Million (Approx.) 4. Ana Cheri- $5 Million (Approx.) 3. Paige Hathaway – $6 Million 2. Katya Elise Henry – $6 Million 1. Kayla Itsines – $63 Million (Approx.) 6. Anllela Sagra – $1 Million – $3 Million (Approx.)

Let’s begin issues off with a bang, the Colombian bombshell, and proprietor of an excellent gluteus maximus-Anllela Sagra. Miss Sagra has been web well-known for about 5 years now and in that point span she launched her personal web site, exercise packages, apps and received sponsorship offers from varied merchandise. All this revenue made her a millionaire on the tender age of 26. 5. Michelle Lewin- $5 Million (Approx.)

Michelle Lewin Michelle is one other well-known title that’s been across the block within the fitness trade. Her fitness profession started at a younger age in her home nation of Venezuela. She labored there as a model for a couple of years which required her to be skinny/match. Then one factor led to a different and subsequent factor she knew she fitness magazines have been combating left and proper to get her on their covers all of the whereas sustaining a powerful Instagram selfie recreation. 4. Ana Cheri- $5 Million (Approx.)

Ana Cheri is a model who received a little bit of wind in her back when she did a few photograph shoots for Playboy. Since then she began modeling for a bunch of merchandise and now does fitness plans, sells bikinis, garments and is sponsored by 1stpharm. 3. Paige Hathaway – $6 Million

Paige Hathaway, on the age of 32, is a social media recreation veteran. She’s been competing and displaying up on varied fitness magazine covers since 2012 and someplace round that point her Instagram profession additionally started. As all fitness Instagram fitness fashions, Paige Hathaway provides transformation packages, booty constructing and every part in between for each women and men. Sponsorship-wise, she’s been sponsored by Shredz and is now with Gymshark. Now, I’ve seen her internet value being talked about as being as excessive as 7.5 million however couldn't discover sources for these numbers and a much more credible websites put her value a bit extra “modest” $6 million {dollars}. 2. Katya Elise Henry – $6 Million

Much like a lot of the girls on this listing, Katya Elise is generally recognized by her superb ass. Her story is a a lot recycled and already heard story. Great genetics, youngster of fitness addicts, began figuring out roughly across the time she turned 18 and the remaining is the cliche goes, historical past. She fashions for anybody who's keen to pay her to take action, sells bikinis and sells exercise packages referred to as “workouts by Katya”. I may go on about her enterprise endeavors however it’s nothing you haven’t heard about. Bikinis, ass photos, journey photos, motivational selfies…nothing you haven’t seen earlier than. 1. Kayla Itsines – $63 Million (Approx.)

Just prefer it was the case with the quantity #1 spot with the blokes, I discover myself once more puzzled at who this particular person is. According to her Wikipedia web page, in 2016 Time listed Kayla Itsines as one of many 30 most influential folks on the Internet. Considering that being as social media influencer has been one of the vital fashionable occupations previously decade and it’s fairly the achievement. Her bio doesn’t supply something particular that makes her arise from the remainder of the group. A easy Aussie woman who dreamt huge and labored in direction of a purpose. Unlike a lot of the girls on this listing, her internet value doesn’t depend on excessive shut up thong photos. She completed “Australian Institute of Fitness” as a grasp coach on the tender age of 18 and went up. E-books, exercise packages and in 2017 a exercise app referred to as “Sweat” which in response to this article will rake in a mindblowing 77 million {dollars}! Writing all of this and doing a little analysis I've come to the conclusion that in relation to the fitness trade, ladies make WAY greater than guys. Some of this women make more cash displaying their ass on Instagram than a seasoned bodybuilding professional who has received a number of championships. Which kinda opens up the query about gender equality and pay hole..however that’s a dialog for you and your pals after a couple of beers. Read the full article

#6RichestFemale #FitnessSuperstars #SocialMedia

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she-is-tim · 5 years

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I love hating you | Elu enemies to lovers AU | Ch.14 END

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6.5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Lucas is an angry, closeted and frustrated gay teenager, while Eliott is the handsome, smart and popular guy in school. They hate each other… but not forever.

Happily Ever After

After three days of staying in Eliott’s apartment and basically not going anywhere, they decided that it’s time to spend some time with their friends. Lucas asked the girls to put together some kind of event for everyone and of course Daphné jumped on the opportunity immediately. They decided to meet in the park and have some outside party. Emma and Alex were taking care of the booze, Daphné got music and decoractions, Idriss brought his soccer ball in case anyone wants to play, Manon made cakes, Alexia got the sandwiches, while Yann, Arthur and Basile got some pizza. The boys were on their way to the park and Lucas was just so happy, he had to post something on insta. They kinda got obsessed with showing off their love online. It just made him feel good and proud.

Eliott was giggling next to him as he read the comments under the picture. It was good to see him being happy outside of the safety of his apartment. He made sure to leave only if his boyfriend feels better enough to be amongst other people. And since he said that he will be fine, Lucas had no intentions to stay inside either. He missed his friends and the spring break was coming to its end, so it was nice to have a little party. Not the getting high and drunk until you throw your guts out, but a chill, eating, drinking and talking kind of one.

When they got there, everything was already set up, people were talking and having fun. The music was loud, but not too much. It was Sofiane who spotted them first, basically running towards them and wrapping his arms around the boys happily, squeezing them together. Eliott laughed and with his hand that wasn’t entwined with Lucas’ hugged him back. The short boy did the same and they stood there like this for a few moments until the others joined them.

“Finally! I thought you guys will never arrive.” Yann said, holding a bottle of beer in his hand, smirking at the boys.

“I am so happy for you guys!” Daphné screamed and threw herself on the boys, much more agressively than Sofiane did, almost knocking them off, but they managed to stand still, enduring the blonde girl’s hug, until she pulled back with a bright smile.

“So, is everything good between you two?” Arthur asked, offering two plastic cups to the boys, probably filled with some alcohol. Lucas accepted it, but Eliott just shook his head, he decided to stay sober for today.

“Better than ever.” the short boy answered after taking a sip of his drink. It was whiskey coke, he liked it a lot.

“Are you okay too, bro?” Yann asked with honest concern in his voice, turning to Eliott. Lucas felt happy and proud that his best friend cared so much for his boyfriend. It was truly endearing to see it, and seemingly the tall boy felt the same as a wide, happy smile spread on his face.

“Yeah, I’m doing well, thank for asking.” he said on a joyful tone and let go of his boyfriend’s hand just to throw his arm lazily around Lucas’ shoulder, pulling him to his chest. He chuckled and leant on him happily as everyone started to walk back towards the place where they were dancing. They had three tables, one for the food, one for the cakes and one for the drinks. Eliott snatched an iced tea for himself and they just joined the gang after that. Sofiane and Idriss were dancing with the girls now.

“So...” Basile started speaking and Lucas immediately felt like this is not gonna end well. He was right. “Did you guys have sex?” he asked shamelessly and the short boy wasn’t even that shocked by the question, but that can’t be said about Arthur or Yann. The blond one hit him in the side roughly enough to startle him, so Baz almost spilled his drink on the boys, but like they were one person, just stepped back out of reflex. Yann on the other hand tried not to choke on his own drink, coughing wildly.

“Are you insane?” Arthur raised his voice, staring at their curly haired friend with pure disbelief.

“What?” Basile whined while massaging the place where he got hit. “We are teenagers, this is a normal question to ask.” he said, trying to came off as the innocent one.

“He is not wrong.” Eliott said suddenly, taking a sip of his drink and earning some shocked looks from the other three boys, while Basile looked like he found his Lord and Savior. “And answering the question, we did have sex. Multiple times actually.” he said smirking, making his boyfriend choke on his drink now.

“Eliott!” he screamed between two coughs. Basile clearly beamed at what he just heard, while his other friends were laughing.

“Can’t I talk openly about or sexual life?” the tall boy asked with a charming smile after his boyfriend stopped the choking session. Lucas rolled his eyes now, but still leaning to him, letting out a soft sigh.

“Look at our sweet Lulu becoming a cute boyfriend.” Arthur was cooing at him, even pinching the short boy’s cheek. He squinted his eyes at his friend and hit away his hand, just slightly annoyed, but a little smile was tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, Eliott managed to tame the beast.” Yann said smirking, earning a hit on the shoulder from his best friend.

“It’s good to have my own little beast.” Eliott smirked and placed a kiss on his boy’s hair, sliding his arm from his shoulders down to his waist. “He is the best.”

“Stop it.” Lucas chuckled and pushed him just lightly, still staying in his arms though, a soft blush creeping up on his cheek from the kind words.

“Ahw, they are so adorable!” a voice came from behind them. Both Lucas and Eliott turned their heads to see Idriss standing there and before they could even have a chance to escape, he wrapped his long arms around them. Eliott just laughed, while the short boy tried to catch his breath in the tight hold. He was indoors with his boyfriend so much, that all this hugging started to make him feel just a little bit uncomfortable. But he endured it, because he loved these people.

“Okay, that’s enough, Idriss.” Sofiane walked to them now, pulling back his friend by his shoulder. “You are strangling Lucas.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” he laughed and took a step back, smiling brightly. “It’s just so good to see Eli being so happy again.” he explained.

“I’m actually happier than ever.” Eliott said, squeezing Lucas in his arm gently. “I am completely in love with this guy.” he smirked and kissed his boyfriend’s cheek.

They stayed for hours just hanging out with the others, making jokes, telling stories and just having fun in general. Lucas enjoyed being outside, openly affectionate with his boyfriend in the presence of their friends. He might have had a fallen apart family, but these people made him feel like he was safe and loved. He loved how free and happy Eliott looked all the time as they were in the park, his life seemed to be just perfect like this.

When Manon got a new camera that was on sale for a really good price, all hell break loose. She wanted to photograph everything, take pictures of food, of Lisa chilling on the couch, but most importantly, she was begging for the boys to let her take pictures of them. Eliott would agree to it from the beginning, but Lucas was too nervous and insecure to do it. Yes, they took photos of themselves and their friends did too, but it was different to actually pose for a “professional” to take pictures of them.

Then a month later, around the end of school year when Eliott and him were studying together, the topic came up again. Lucas was sitting on the bed, reading his biology notes, while his boyfriend sat at his desk, doing math homework. They were supposed to do a literature assignment too, but it wasn’t as important like their current works. Everything was hell in school around this time, they had a shit ton of homework and even more things to learn for. Lucas couldn’t even remember when it was the last time that they went on an actual date and not studying together or doing homework. He missed their morning coffee dates, but both of them had things planned for most of the time before classes.

He was so occupied with his notes that he only noticed the third piece of crumpled paper that hit his face and then landed on his lap. He looked up at Eliott, who was turned to him smirking, throwing another one at him that bounced off his chest, then joining the others in his lap. He raised an eyebrow, not understanding his boyfrend’s childish behavior.

“What?” He asked, putting his notes to the side and turning his body towards the other boy.

“Pay attention to me.” he said pouting, like he had any rights to do that. Lucas rolled his eyes, he got better at ignoring the cute faces that Eliott kept pulling off to get from him what he wanted.

“We are supposed to be studying. Bac remember?” he sighed, glancing at the books laying on Eliott’s bed.

“But we haven’t kissed since hours now.” his voice was almost high-pitched and the short boy couldn’t hold back a smug grin.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, like he didn’t care, just to fuck around a little. “I didn’t even notice.” he lied, still having that shit-eating grin on his face. Eliott gave him a disapproving look, throwing a pencil at his direction, but he missed, so it landed on the floor. Lucas chuckled.

“Don’t laugh! Come here and let me smooch that adorable face of yours.” He said with a grumpy look on his face. The short boy smirked, getting up from the bed and walking to his boyfriend, stopping between his opened legs. A huge, happy smile appeared on Eliott’s face. Lucas gently put his hands on his boyfriend’s cheeks, cupping it softly before planting a kiss on his lips. It was innocent at first, but then the tall boy’s hands wandered down from his waist to his butt, grabbing it wildly, forcing out a moan from him. He used this opportunity to slide his tongue into his mouth, deepending the kiss.

They were making out for long minutes like this, Eliott sitting on the chair, Lucas standing between his legs, arms roaming on each other’s body. Then they had to break apart for air, wheezing like they just ran a marathon, foreheads knocked together. The tall one was smirking victoriously, being satisfied with himself that his silly plan to distract his boyfriend worked so well.

“I wanna ask you something.” he whispered after their breathing started to normalize. Lucas opened his eyes slowly, looking at him with anticipation. “Can you let Manon to take photos of us?” he asked, eyes filled with hope and excitement. The short boy sighed, they haven’t talked about this since a long time now and seeing how much Eliott still wanted it just made him come to the conclusion that he would do anything to make this guy happy.

“Yeah, okay, sure.” he mumbled into the tiny space between their lips. His boyfriend made a squeaky noise before he started laughing and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. Lucas couldn’t help but laugh with him, wrapping his arms around his neck and burying his face into the soft, messy hair.

Lucas texted Manon not much after and she got so excited, bombing them with ideas, locations, sample pictures they could recreate. The short boy was overwhelmed, so he let his boyfriend handle this situation and he handled it so damn well. They sat down with the girl at a calm saturday to talk about the photoshoot. Eliott made sketches and claimed that they had to take the pictures on the school yard after classes. Manon agreed that it’s not a bad idea and she loved the sketches too. They seemed to agree on everything with Eliott in the end, so that is how a week later Lucas was posing for couple photos at school with his boyfriend.

The weird thing was that he didn’t hated this at all. Yes, the first few pictures felt awkward and he felt like he’s a complete mess compared to his boyfriend, but after a while he got comfortable. Manon was mostly quiet, just giving them soft instructions once in a while, but it was mostly Eliott who put themselves into the next position. Lucas was grateful that they were wearing comfortable clothes, nothing too fancy. He even had a baseball cap, feeling like he will need it to cover his mess of a hair, but Eliott didn’t let him put on, so most of the time he was just holding it in his hands.

When they were done, Lucas was shocked that more than an hour passed by. He felt like it was just a few minutes with Eliott by his side. They sat down on a bench with the girl, quickly going through the pictures and he was stunned by them completely. Manon did a great job and seeing how excited his boyfriend was just made him extra happy. As a reward for the awesome pictures, the boys invited Manon for a dinner and of course she agreed. They went to a nice burger place nearby, having fun there for almost three hours, going through the pictures over and over, sometimes laughing at the expressions on the boys faces where they were blinking or sneezing. Then both of them decided to pick a photo to post it on instagram, both because they were proud of the great work Manon did and they wanted to share their love with the whole world, like always.

August 10

Lucas almost stumbled in the boxes as he got up from the couch, cursing as he made his way to the kitchen. He was only wearing his briefs and a shirt he had stolen from Eliott. He yawned while he was pouring coffee into his mug, leaning to the counter and watching his boyfriend still sleeping peacefully. He couldn’t hold back a happy smirk, looking through the boxes scattered around the flat.

When he finished his drink, he prepared some cheese toast and another mug of coffee, walking back to the living room with those. He sat down on the couch and kissed his boyfriend’s hair softly. He let out a little groan, turning around, slowly opening his eyes. When he saw the boy next to him, a soft smirk appeared on his face.

“Good morning, my love.” he mumbled, voice still a bit hoarse. Lucas chuckled and planted a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Good morning, handsome. I made you breakfast.” he said softly, showing the plate with the sandwiches and the mug in his hands. Eliott slowly sat up, leaning on the back of the couch and rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes, yawning. When he finished that, he took the coffee first, taking a few sips and letting the caffeine spread in his body, waking him up a little. It had just a tiny bit of sugar in it, which was perfect.

“You always make the most delicious coffee for me.” Eliott claimed, giving his sweet boy a peck on the lips before taking the plate of toasts, placing it on his lap.

“Isn’t that obvious? I am making you coffe every morning since months now.” he said with a proud grin, placing himself on the couch a bit closer to his boyfriend, resting his head on his shoulder.

“Of course, but that doesn’t mean I can’t compliment you.” he replied and took a bite of his toast, then handing it to Lucas. He didn’t grab it, just took a bite and smiled at him softly. They were always sharing breakfast like that, that’s why Lucas never bothered to have two plates of food, when they can do this instead.

“When will Idriss arrive exactly?” Lucas asked after they were almost done with the eating. He looked through the boxes and just wished they could get this done as quick as possible. He hated packing stuff, but today was a special day for both of them, so he pushed those negative thoughts aside.

“Around 10.” Eliott shrugged and continued drinking his coffee. “We will be done by noon, don’t worry.” he said softly, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek.

“I’m not worrying.” Lucas pouted and buried his face into the tall boy’s neck. “This is was we have planned since a month now. I just hate packing stuff.” he mumbled, making Eliott laugh.

“Come on, Lucas. You don’t even have that many things. It’s like five or six boxes, no furniture and most of them were already boxed.” he reminded him kindly, kissing his forehead before drinking the rest of his coffee.

“Yeah, because they banished me to this couch from hell.” he said bitterly, wrapping an arm around Eliott’s waist, leaning his body on him a bit more.

“We have some good memories with this couch, though.” the tall boy said smirking. “When Manon was at Emma’s, Lisa visited her parents and Mika had a hookup with someone.” he reminded him, whispering into his ear. “You were quite loud that day, even louder than the couch.” he continued, placing a kiss on his earlobe. “I can still remember how you moaned my name. It makes me hard just to think about it.” he finished it by biting the boy’s neck, making him let out a squeaky moan. Lucas felt his face burning and he gently slapped his boyfriend’s chest.

“Stop this! Everyone is still sleeping.” he muttered into the tall one’s shoulder, trying to get rid of the blush on his cheeks somehow.

“See, that’s why we’re moving together.” Eliott huffed with a bit of annoyance in his voice. The short boy looked up, studying those steel blue eyes with curiosity. “I wanna be able to tease you in the morning without worrying to get caught by your flatmates.” he sighed and placed his hand on the boy’s cheek. “Maybe even having some morning action.” he winked at him playfully which made him giggle.

“Yeah, I have to admit that I would love that.” he said smiling, leaning into the warm touch of Eliott.

“Then let’s get dressed and pack up the rest of your stuff, please.” he said smiling and got up from the “bed”, looking for his pants and shirt on the floor, while his boyfriend just kept laying there, adoring his half naked body from behind. “Baby, if you keep staring at my ass, you’re going to drool all over your sheets.” Eliott said as he put on his pants and glanced at his boyfriend over his shoulder, smirking. Lucas blushed heavily, looking away and getting up from the bed, sniffing his boy’s shirt one more time before taking it off and dressing up into his own clothes.

Hours later they were done, box packed into the trunk of Idriss’ car, boys sitting in the back, heading to Eliott’s apartment. Lucas was kinda nervous, holding his boyfriend’s hand all the way. It was one thing staying at each other’s place for days, spending almost every day together and living with said person. What if he says something stupid when he’s upset with school? What if they fight and Eliott needs space?

So many questions he didn’t know the answers for. He will also miss the presence of Manon, Mika and Lisa, their happiness, complains, everything. Of course despite the bad things that was going on between them, Mika cried when the boys announced to the flatmates that Lucas is going to move in with Eliott. He hugged the short boy tightly, sobbing that he is not gonna say amen to this, because he needs his cute son. It was both annoying and endearing at the same time, since he had no rights to forbid anything, but he also cared so much that he couldn’t just let go of Lucas. It took them hours to calm down the older boy, reassuring him, that they will still come back to hang out with them sometimes and that he should be glad there won’t be anymore living room action he could come home to.

As they arrived Idriss, Lucas and Eliott carried up the boxes to the third floor, where Lucille and Sofiane was waiting for them. They made sure there is enough space for Lucas’ stuff, also the girl decided to cook for everyone while they are packing. Sofiane hugged both boys after they put down the boxes, congratulating them for this big step and saying how proud he is. Lucas was a bit overwhelmed and excused himself, joining Lucille in the kitchen, while his boyfriend kept chatting with his friends.

“What are you cooking?” he asked softly. Lucille turned around her head and smiled at him. She had longer hair now, not that curly, but still only wearing light makeup which made her really beautiful.

“Hey, Lucas!” she greeted happily, waving for him to come closer and as he did, she kissed him on the cheek. “It’s good to see you. I’m cooking some chicken stew with rice and vegetables.” she explained, stirring the tasty looking meal in the pot.

“Smells nice.” he said and jumped up on the kitchen counter, making himself comfortable. It was weird to think of this place as his own, not just as Eliott’s now. “Where are you gonna stay now, by the way?” he asked curiously after a few minutes of silence. “I mean, I wouldn’t have any problems of you staying here while you’re in Paris, but...” he tried to quickly explain himself, but Lucille cut him off.

“It’s fine, I don’t wanna cockblock you guys.” she said smirking and winked at the short boy playfully, which made him giggle. “I was actually thinking of finding a flat for myself.” she said a bit quieter and Lucas almost fell off the counter as he leant forward to make sure he hears her well.

“What? Are you serious?” he asked excitedly. In the past few months he and Lucille become really good friends, amusing themselves by teasing Eliott to the point where he couldn’t handle being in the same room with the two of them. It was beautiful and the boy couldn’t wish for a better sister-in-law, if he could call her that. And Eliott had no rights to complain, because he and Yann seemed to get along very well, sometimes even hanging out just them, without Lucas or the boys. It made him happy how their lives seemed to go into a very good direction. His mother and Eliott’s parents were also really supportive, having some issues at the beginning, but now it was all smooth and clean.

“Yeah, I am looking for a job here.” she nodded and put the stove on lighter heat, turning to the boy now, arms crossed. “I just haven’t told Eliott, because I don’t want him to think that I wanna come back to watch over him.” she sighed and looked down. The boy hopped off the counter and walking to her, he might be the short one, but he still felt like he has to make sure Lucille feels loved. So he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her gently and stroking her hair.

“I’m sure Eliott would never think that.” he said softly. “And if he does, I knock some sense in his fine ass, don’t worry. I am so happy you wanna stay in Paris.” he said with honesty, squeezing the girl a little, which made her laugh.

“Thank you.” she said, softly pushing him away now, but planting a kiss on his cheek before turning back to the stove, continuing the cooking. Lucas smirked and placed himself back on the counter with a beer in his hand he grabbed from the fridge. He looked around happily and proudly, relizing that now he has his own apartment that he shares with the love of his life. It was so unreal, so new, but he loved every bit of it. He wouldn’t have thought it at the beginning of the year that he’s going to live together with Eliott Demaury, having an established and healthy relationship.

When the boys walked to the kitchen to get some drinks for themselves, Eliott basically launched himself on Lucas, smooching him like there’s no tomorrow, while the other two walked to Lucille, kissing her cheeks from each side. She just giggled and waved her hands at them when they tried to taste the food. The boys laughed at them, while cuddling each other, Lucas sitting on the counter still, legs open with Eliott between them, leaning his back on his boyfriend’s chest, making himself become the little spoon.

School time was coming, both of them were busy with getting ready. Eliott was going to start his studies at college too, studying art and cinematography, while also working at a coffee shop. During the summer Lucas also had a job, helping out in a flower shop that Lucille showed him. He liked the place a lot and was sad that he has to finish it once school starts, but with the graduation and everything going on in their life, he couldn’t handle that too. He also had a dog to take care of now. It was tough at first, but as they both got used to its presence and learned what they can and can not do, it become as easy as breathing. Their morning routine started with Lucas making breakfast, feeding the dog, Eliott making coffee and taking a shower, then they eat together before heading out to work or just start their day at home. Luna was a really lazy puppy, only cewing on the legs of the coffee table sometimes, but she barely caused any troubles.

They were a happy little family and Lucas felt like nothing can make this better, cause it was already perfect. Well, he was completely wrong. When their one year anniversary started to become a close event, Eliott started acting weird, needing more alone time than he usually wanted, saying that he’s working on a college project that is really important for his studies. Lucas tried not to read too much into it and just let it go, but he still felt suspicious.

Then just a week before their anniversary, Eliott visited him at school, on a friday afternoon. They went to the common room in hopes to hang out with the others, but the place was strangely empty, not even one student were there playing table soccer or using the computer. Lucas found it weird, but his boyfriend didn’t let him too much time to chew on it, because he dragged him to the mural they painted last year. He was about to ask what is going on, when suddenly Eliott was down on one knee, holding a tiny blue box in his hands, slowly opening it, revealing two rings in it. They were made of white gold with one blue steel stripe in the middle. Lucas gasped, placing his hands on his mouth, not believing his eyes.

“Lucas Lallemant...” Eliott started, looking deadly serious with a soft smile on his face still. “Will you marry me?”

Lucas opened his mouth, but he couldn’t force the words out, his eyes filling with tears, so he could barely see his boyfriend, but he started to nod quickly, before he could think that he doesn’t want to. He could hear Eliott’s relieved sigh and then his chuckled as he reached up for the short boy’s hand, standing up slowly. He tried to rub the tears out of his eyes, smiling like an idiot when his boyfriend slid the ring up on his finger slowly, then kissing his knuckle. He grabbed the other ring, doing the same for Eliott and then jumping into his neck happily, crying again.

As they were cuddling, laughing and crying, the door of the common room slammed open and all of their friends stormed in screaming. They surrounded the couple, creating one gigantic group hug, then all of them started to congratulate, asking questions. Daphné seemed really excited, asking if she can help with organizing the wedding, Yann and Manon just looked at them with knowing eyes, while Mika hugged Lucas happily, talking about how proud he is that his only son is getting married.

They soon left the common room, since half of the people weren’t even students of the school, moving to the flatshare, because that was the only place where this many people could fit in. On the way they bought snacks, drinks, takeout, everything that is needed to celebrate an engagement. When Lucas voiced his concerns about leaving their dog alone for so long, his boyfriend reassured him that Lucille is taking care of her, which now explained why she wasn’t there with them.

“I wonder what my mom is going to say about this.” Lucas mumbled as they were sitting in the armchair at the flat, surrounded by chatting friends, while some chill music was playing quietly in the background. Everyone drinking beer, buice, whatever they liked and they seemed really happy.

“Well...” Eliott started, hands running up and down on his boy’s arms slowly. “I actually asked her about this.” he mumbled, burying his face into Lucas’ fluffy hair.

“What?” he asked surprised, moving his head to the side, trying to look at his hiding boyfriend.

“I just... I wanted her permission.” he said, still avoiding the short boy’s look. “To make sure she’s okay with this.”

Lucas didn’t say anything, but grabbed his boyfriend’s chin, lifting up his head and smiling at him fondly, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was with such a soft and lovely boyfriend... well, fiancé, actually. He had to laugh into the kiss as he thought about this, because it just made him feel so soft and warm inside. Eliott shot him a confused look, disapproving that his boyfriend just broke their soft moment.

“I love you so much.” Lucas whispered, biting his bottom lip just a little for teasing.

“I love you too.” Eliott smirked and placed his hands on the boy’s waist now, pulling him closer, like they aren’t in the presence of a dozen people in the room. “And I will love you forever.”

“Is this when movies say that they lived happily ever after, right?” Lucas smirked at him, running his fingers through his messy hair, rubbing their nose together.

“Yeah, this is our happily ever after.” he whispered with a cute giggle, before initiating a really intense and inappropriate kiss with his beloved fiancé.

They were really living the best of their life together.

This was a long ride guys, but thank you so much for sitting through it with me, reading all this mess I wrote, enjoying the chapters, getting nervous at the angsty parts! I cannot express how much I love all of you, all the messages and comments! I can’t wait to start writing my next story, I hope you all going to like it! Have a nice day and Bisous to all of you

#Skam France #Elu enemies to lovers au #I love hating you #Lucas Lallemant #Eliott Demaury #Elu #Eliott x Lucas

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hypmicwritingbutbad · 5 years

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What if back when TDD was still together each member took turns babysitting Ichiro and Samatoki's siblings? Also tysm for that bb vacation headcanon asdlkasdfnasdlf;kasdf >

Heya! I’m really glad you like the BB vacation headcanons aaaaa they were real refreshing to write!

NOTE: Since this is TDD era, ages here go roughly as such: Ichiro (15), Jiro (13), Saburo (10), Samatoki (21), Samatoki’s sister (10-12), Jakurai (31), Ramuda (20)

Ichiro

Samatoki would likely go to him first if he had to get his sister a babysitter

Mostly because of their senior-junior relationship, and also cause he knows Ichiro has two younger brothers (with the youngest being round his sister’s age too)

When he drops his sister off, he’d glare at Ichiro with the deadliest eyes and warn him of the dire consequences if anything happens to her (rip ichiro)

Ichiro would initially be very cautious and overly-antsy around imoutoki

But he’d definitely warm up to her quickly once he sees how nervous she is around him and his brothers too

Saburo and Jiro would watch enviously from the background as Ichiro’d play dolls with her

They wouldn’t approach her until Ichiro calls them over

But they’d refuse to interact with her, so Ichiro would just continue to play with her as the two of them huddled together

Eventually, they’d cave in from the pressure— partly cause their beloved Ichinii isn’t paying them any attention, partly cause they feel bad that they’re excluding this shy little girl, partly also cause the games just look so fun

And so the three Yamada Bros would just play game after game after game: house (imoutoki being the mom, saburo being the dad, ichiro the grandmother and jiro ~unwillingly~ being the baby), hide and seek (with ichiro hiding in the most obvious places on purpose), dolls (feat a highly dramatised re-enactment of a typical scene from a soap opera)

Once they’ve tired out Jiro, Saburo and imoutoki would fall asleep huddled together while Ichiro cleans up their now-disheveled apartment: his back sore and aching, his voice hoarse from all the over-enthusiastic yelling but with a huge smile on his face nonetheless

And eventually when Samatoki arrives up to pick his sister up, his heart melts a little when he sees the rosy flush in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes

“I haven’t seen her have this much fun in years. Maybe it’ll do her some good to hang with your bros sometime again in the future… I’ll give you credit for this one, kid— but don’t get too cocky, ya hear me!?”

Samatoki

Ichiro would have always told Jiro and Saburo good things about his delinquent-senpai-idol Samatoki

…but when they actually see him in person for the first time it’d be safe to say that they’d be terrified

Samatoki’s apartment would likely be small and messy, so the two of them would sit awkwardly on the edge of the sofa

Huddled together, with Saburo clinging onto Jiro for dear life (and surprisingly, Jiro doesn’t mind too much— or perhaps he’s just too scared to notice)

Samatoki would sit cross-legged opposite them, silent and glaring

With imoutoki between the two parties, shuffling awkwardly in her seat

And this continues for what seems like hours until imoutoki pulls at Samatoki’s shirt and says “lunchtime”

So Samatoki brings all the kids to the kitchen where he seats them at their small dining table and starts cooking

He’d start off by frying chicken skewers, then mixing sauces to make a light teriyaki glaze. While that’s cooking he’d begin chopping carrots, leeks and onions with surprising speed and precision into little flowers

all while imoutoki hums happily as she waits for another one of her big bro’s feasts, all while saburo and jiro watch with their mouths hanging open because who knew Samatoki could cook??

He’d leave the onigiri for last and when he does, he calls all the kids to help him with it

So they spend ages shaping the rice into different shapes, laughing as sticky rice gets all over their hands and face and clothes

When Ichiro comes to pick them up, they’re only starting to eat (because it took hours to get the rice off the floor and each other) so he joins them as well

And Samatoki sends them home with enough leftovers to last them a few days

Ramuda

Imoutoki

When Samatoki asks TDD if anyone’s free to babysit his sister, Ramuda’s hand would be the first to shoot up to volunteer

On the day itself, Ramuda would greet her with a huge hug and she’d be startled

Because this man is around her oniichan’s age, yet he’s only a few inches taller than her??

Ramuda would have a whole assortment of activities planned in advance because he’d have been looking forward to this day ever since he heard Samatoki had a little sister

He’d spend hours doing her hair, sewing her new clothes, even pampering her with light makeovers fitting of a girl her age

Letting her dress up and feel pretty for once– an opportunity she’s always wanted but never asked for because she knows Samatoki tries his best already and doesn’t want to trouble him any further

All the while he’d chat to her like an old friend: asking her about school, what pop idol she’s into, which type of sweet tastes best with which kind of tea

And at the end of the day, Samatoki would nearly drop dead when he comes to pick his sister up and sees her all dolled up

He’d probably cry a little thinking that she’s growing up too fast

Saburo and Jiro

Ramuda would seize the opportunity to babysit Jiro and Saburo, claiming that he’s always wanted little brothers

But they’d have heard things about the infamous Ramuda and his clingy ways from Ichiro, so they’d formulate plans to evade him as much as possible

Jiro would likely be rushing around Ramuda’s apartment trying to escape from his clutches of frill and satin, Saburo would hide away in the most obscure of places (and finding Ramuda’s secret stash of lollipops) and Ramuda would eventually collapse onto his sofa, uncharacteristically exhausted

He’d lie there, seemingly asleep, for a long time

Until Jiro and Saburo, out of both curiosity and guilt, are baited out to check and see if he’s alright

…He’d then jump out, tackling them both to the ground and tickling them to no end as they shriek and struggle

This match would continue for hours on end until they collapse into a sweaty, laughing pile on the fluffy pink carpet in Ramuda’s living room

….Ichiro would come to pick them up, find them fast asleep in the same spot and end up putting Ramuda to bed too before carrying his sleeping brothers all the way back home

Jakurai

Imoutoki

Jakurai’s house is likely filled with all sorts of medical reports and supplies unsuitable for kids to play in, so he’d take her out instead

Most likely to the aquarium, where there’s much to be learned

(Sensei is single and thus knows little about raising kids but he’s all about teaching them new things, like healthy foods to eat or how not to get cavities idk)

Imoutoki would be amazed by all the different types of fish drifting about like seven-colour-flags, the

And if she had trouble seeing due to the crowds, Jakurai would lift her up on his shoulders to give her the best view of all

Though he has to be careful to make sure she doesn’t bump her head on the ceiling

Halfway they’d be stopped by a few middle-aged aunties who’d tell him, “Oh my, what a cute daughter you have!” and “It’s so nice to see a father spending time with his child on a quiet weekend like this.”

He’d try to correct them first, but after seeing the bashful look in imoutoki’s eyes and remembering the Aohitsugi family situation, he’d simply smile and say “Yes, I’m very aware of that.”

When Jakurai drops her back home at the end of the day and she’s waving goodbye, she’d tell Samatoki to “Say bye-bye to Father too”, which would confuse him greatly

Saburo and Jiro

Jakurai would go over to the Yamada bros’ apartment to watch over them for Ichiro

Jiro and Saburo would likely be very wary of this giant of a man at first due to his long hair, towering figure and stern-looking face

He’d see them hovering in the distance, like cats on edge

But the moment he smiles at them in that gentle fashion of his, they’d instantly warm up to him

Having Jakurai smile at you would be like having an angel’s face shine down upon you… anyone’d be at ease lmao

The boys would spend the rest of the day showing Jakurai around

Jiro would be eager to bring him outside and show him all his ‘treasures’ and ‘landmarks’: the rock in the backyard where they buried their pet goldfish, the secret spot to the north of the entrance where the ladybugs thrive, even the hidden nest of bush warblers on the fourth branch of the highest tree

Saburo would be more hesitant, but he’d shyly approach Jakurai with a thick book and quietly mumble something along the lines of “I’d like you to read this to me… please.”

Of course it’d surprise Jakurai to see a 10 year-old with a book with the title “1001 Lessons in Social Psychology” , but Ichiro DID tell him that his youngest brother was a prodigy

Near the end, Jakurai would bring out a cooler box of Super Cup ice cream he prepared in advance as a secret treat

But Jiro and Saburo’d insist on saving their portions for Ichinii as well

By the time Ichiro comes home, the ice cream is melted and Jakurai looks apologetic, but he eats it nonetheless

#hypnosis mic #hypmic #hypnosis mic division rap battle #hypmic headcanons #hypmic imagines #hypmic scenarios #headcanons #the dirty dawg #tdd #yamada ichiro #yamada saburo #yamada jiro #aohitsugi samatoki #imoutoki #jinguji jakurai #amemura ramuda #fluff #siblings #babysitting

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allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 5 years

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Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark

So I may or may not be a little behind on reviews right now. But joke’s on you, there are a bunch of scary movies that have been released in 2019 (and very few being released in theaters this October) so you can enjoy some seasonally-appropriate spookiness right on schedule like I planned it that way and not at all because writing reviews for 119 movies is really hard and time-consuming. Everything’s going according to my master plan.

Hey, so do you remember the 90s? Between Goosebumps and Are You Afraid of the Dark?, kids in the 90s basically just wanted to have the bejeesus scared out of them. Enter Alvin Schwartz, who produced a couple of collections of folk tales and urban legends that were unsettling but fairly bloodless and combined them with the nightmare-inducing artwork of Stephen Gammell. BOOM - generation of kids traumatized. I know all my fellow #90skidsremember and probably have very high hopes for the spookiness of this movie. Does it deliver? Well...

Mostly, but it misses the mark somewhat. What’s worse, I think some different choices could have really propelled this into blood-curdling classic status. As it stands, those stories we knew and loved as kids have been roughly strung together into a PG-13 horror flick held together by a somewhat clumsy connective narrative about a young girl named Sarah Bellows (Kathleen Pollard), who was tortured and abused at the hands of her family, locked in a basement, and took her revenge by writing scary stories that came to life and killed all those who tormented her. Now it’s Halloween in 1968 and a group of teens (Zoe Margaret Colletti, Michael Garza, Gabriel Rush, and Austin Zajur) investigate the derelict Bellows house and find Sarah’s murderous book - and then start dropping like flies as Sarah’s stories start to come to life once more.

Some thoughts:

The movie theater we saw this in was an independent theater recently acquired by a big corporate chain, and as such, the employees could not figure out how to turn the lights all the way down. And we were in the biggest auditorium they have - think almost IMAX size - so the lights were those really strong spotlight kind recessed into the super high ceiling, but dimmed to about half strength. This is all to say that my experience was less Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark and more Scary Stories to Tell in an Office Building Past Nine.

The soundtrack is absolutely banging. I really, really enjoyed the extended intro sequence to “Season of the Witch” particularly.

Ok, hard and fast rule - don’t throw things that are on fire into ANYONE’s car, even if they’re a bully.

How are all these walls of cobwebs not a deterrent even if a scary murder basement isn’t?

You know, I don’t think I had overbearing parents in high school by any means, but even my friends with hippie parents could never have come home absolutely fucking WASTED and just be told, “go deliver eggs.” In the middle of the night. On Halloween. Like people do.

Harold was always the scariest story in the collection to me, and Harold himself is not fucking around here. His character design is deliciously creepy, plus the fact that he’s isolated in a huge cornfield at night. Anyone who grew up in the middle of the country will tell you - one of the scariest things on God’s green earth is a field of corn. Listen to this and listen well - cornfields are full of blood and old magic. Don’t. Fuck. With corn.

Glad to see they’re not underplaying the racism that someone with the name Ramon Rodriguez would be experiencing in a small town like this in 1968. Or now.

I can’t help but feel this would have been a far better movie if it was A) rated R and B) about a half hour longer. I’m all for short and snappy when the movie calls for it! But things moved SO quickly that nothing had much room to breathe. There were entire plot lines that felt dropped, or completely breezed past. Example - there’s a whole subplot about our Final GIrl Stella’s strained relationship with her dad (Dean Norris) that could have carried a lot of the emotional weight and really underscored some themes of the movie about generational trauma...but Stella and her dad have I think 2 very brief scenes together? Maybe 3? It feels like a LOT was cut from their arc. Even small details that could have been fleshed out into something really creepy feel dropped or missing - like, the corn in Harold’s field? Completely green and thriving on Halloween night, dead and yellow the next day. It feels like a scene is missing or that lines illuminating this choice were cut - even something as simple as “What could do something like this to an entire field of corn?” and the answer is E V I L.

I’ve been around lots of teenage boys before, I’m not a nun, but seriously who eats stew of all things that 1) people told you they didn’t make (and that you know YOU didn’t make) 2) that is COLD and 3) when people you love are saying DO NOT EAT ANYTHING OR YOU WILL DIE. I’m willing to concede 1 and 3 through sheer stubbornness and stupidity but COLD? COLD STEW? Cold, chunky, brownish stew??? Disbelief unsuspended.

There are a number of Very Good Dogs in this movie, including a beautiful Doberman, some excellent police K-9 units, and a Very Good black dog named Trigger! And I’m happy to report all of the dogs make it out ok!

“You don’t read the book - the book reads you” might be the worst line I’ve seen in a film this year. What does that even mean?

Why did Chuck say “My sister’s gone” - based on what we see in the film, the implication is that she actually survived? Unless there was a scene establishing her death definitively that was cut. This is what I mean when I say that the brutal to-the-bone editing to keep it PG-13 really makes the plot and continuity suffer.

Why would you throw away that perfectly good clipboard? Hospitals aren’t made of money, young man!

But maybe this hospital is, because they own a fucking gramophone?? And for the record, it has never been that easy to find any hospital records in the history of ever, so maybe this is a magic hospital, idk.

In terms of the actual scary stories come to life, the red room lady (see gif above) is really the only one that feels the same way the Stephen Gammell’s original artwork feels. All the other scary stories embodied in the film either rely too heavily on CGI to look convincingly real (Me Tie Dough-ty Walker) and therefore lose their dreadful creepiness or the character design, while scary, doesn’t really resemble the look or feel of the original illustration (Harold).

Speaking of Me Tie Dough-ty Walker, that part really rubbed me the wrong way. He moves super fast, and is so violently in your face - it doesn’t at all fit the tone of the books or the creeping dread of Gamell’s art. I understand you need to escalate the action as you’re heading into the climax of the film, but this move felt completely wrong to me, like it came from a totally different (and lesser) B-horror movie. He’s loud and gross and terrifying looking, like The Toxic Avenger doing parkour and shit, and that is not at all the vibe that any of these urban legends have.

Did I Cry? I teared up a teeny bit during Stella’s phone call with her dad. Dad-daughter stuff just gets me, ok?

It feels weird that they’re so clearly trying to set up a sequel, especially when the scariest story the movie tells is that Nixon wins the election and Ramon is drafted to go to Vietnam.

Overall, this could have been something pretty great. The acting and characterizations are solid, and there’s some rich thematic material to make this feel less like an anthology collection cash-grab. There’s even some pretty profound messages about trauma at the heart of Stella’s confrontation with Sarah Bellows - Stella understands that Sarah is only a monster because she is lashing out in pain, but she’s hurting innocent people. All Sarah wants is for her trauma to be heard, acknowledged, and remembered - all she wants is her story to be told. And while it doesn’t always reach its highest potential, Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark is still certainly a story worth listening to.

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

#119in2019 #scary stories to tell in the dark #ssttitd #scary stories to tell in the dark review #alvin schwartz #stephen gammell #zoe margaret colletti #michael garza #gabriel rush #austin zajur #dean norris #movie reviews #horror reviews #Film Review #Horror Movies

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courage-a-word-of-justice · 5 years

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Shield Hero 20

Motoyasu getting dragged by Filo was funny…not enough to get a proper laugh though. Just a smirk or two.

Stop narrating and just get on with it, Naofumi and friends…!

“I was saying we should fight together all along.” (from Itsuki) – Were you, now…? (skeptical)

Ass-pull! I call “ass-pull” at the power to swallow the phoenix flame! Seriously, when did the dragon get the opportunity to teach Naofumi how to do that???

How did Naofumi not die after losing so much blood…?

What does the Q even stand for in the queen’s name…?

Sarazanmai 7

The seagulls…so fluffy…

For some reason, I expect a fakeout, but then it never arrives…these boys are really connecting…

I found some kappa croquette thingy online, but it referred to a “Shiki City” which probably isn’t in Asakusa…

The shirt…Kazuki’s shirt says “frog” but I get the feeling it also means “return”.

Shirohasu water. It’s Irohasu in Japan.

Was the lyric to Kawausoiya (the otter song) “gonna take ‘em”…?

Nice ET reference, Sara.

Balls…not just sport entendre, but…y’know. The sort of humour I don’t like as much.

Ooh…Keppi is shaping up to be the bad guy. But what plans does he have? Am I speculating too much and is he being framed? Hard to know until next time…

BSD 32

When Kyouka is eating the sundae, she looks like the Tofu Kyouka from Mayoi…hmm.

Can I confess something? Before I saw the illustrations for s2, I thought Louisa’s hair was much darker than what it is in the anime…hmmm, indeed.

I don’t think we were ever told (in the manga or the anime) what Louisa’s wish was…

This bit with Fyodor…I don’t think it was in the manga.

Subarashi-sou is a pun on “it seems wonderful”. That wasn’t in the manga, but it’s a great pun (because it’s right up my alley).

Fitz laughing at the neighbour’s TV wasn’t in the manga either, but that’s just the anime director’s humour peeking through.

“Blalack Daniel’s”, LOL.

Ohh…a quick Google reveals TJ Eckleberg is from the Great Gatsby. In there, he’s an eye doctor, but here, he’s an engineer.

George B Wilson is also from the Great Gatsby…Here be spoilers, but…George dies in his original work too.

Manhasset is a place in New York…I assume it’s connected to the Great Gatsby as well…

Oh yeah! Random Poe moment. That’s in the manga, so Igarashi (or whoever’s responsible for the terrible humour) doesn’t have to fake that bit.

Cue “Objection!” by Fitz, lemme guess. Even if I know the outcome and how it was done, I’d like to have my memory refreshed (by stabbing in the dark…and making an Ace Attorney joke in the process).

I already know, without googling, that Tom Buchanan is part of Great Gatsby as well…

Bank of Amerigo…LOL.

Fruits Basket 8

“If you show up for the banquet now…”

“The banquet sounds just like the folk tale!” Honestly, subbers, proofread…

Haa-kun and Haa-san. No distinguishing between them (aside from honorifics), even though they’re two completely different people.

Hatori’s squinty face was…hilarious, to put it simply.

Oh…I forgot the dance seems to be something the animal of the year does. So if Yuki was 3 years ago, it makes sense Momiji is doing it this year.

Best seat in the house for a sunrise, huh?

Kimetsu no Yaiba 8

I’ve seen Muzan being described as “Demon Michael Jackson” and now I can’t get that out of my head when I see him…sorry.

Tsukihiko, huh? It translates to “moon’s radiance” or something like that. That name is appropriate for a bad guy, isn’t it?

This is the first time I’ve really listened to the OST (aside from the OP and ED), so it’s…really something.

Ooh, I didn’t realise until now, but Ufotable even imitated the paper Jump is printed on with the next-ep previews…

OPM 2 8 (OPM 20)

Er…I haven’t mentioned it for the past few episodes, but Suiryu is hotttttttt. (No? I said that? Okay, next step.) That’s basically the only reason why I’m watching anymore…I can’t seem to find anyone who thinks positively of this tournament arc enough to do reviews of it that I can read, which has made my own opinion of this beloved series go down the drain…Also, if you weren’t aware, my taste lies not in Suiryu’s huge bulk, but rather in the fact he’s got long hair.

Didn’t Suiryu get pierced in the abs??? Where’s the blood coming from his injuries??? Update: He does have injuries there, they’re just not bloody…that’s all.

The main criticism for OPM 2 is the fact that it keeps cutting between different events, so it’s hard to follow. Well, I’ve had worse (see Concrete Revolutio) so that’s why I’m still here.

People say that clothing changes you – say if you put on a new outfit, you feel like a new person. (Of course, that’s all glamorising and praising consumption, but that’s beside the point here.) I think that’s what’s up with Max and Snek.

Shield Hero 21

“…the Shield Hero is worshipped.”

Really? Boob jiggle, at a time like this??? (Context: Malty is getting th slave crest painted on her.)

Wait, was there ever a Shield Church???

Okay, that felt like a real seasonal ending. What the heck is going to happen in the last few episodes, I wonder…?

Sarazanmai 8

Chikai knows the real meaning of YOLO…heh. I’m only kidding…

To be honest, I think I like Toi best out of the main trio. I tend to like the boys in blue…and no, I don’t mean the otter police.

Kazuki’s service provider is “Kappa Phone”, LOL.

When Reo held up the gun, I was yelling, “Enta! Get it for him!” (i.e. take the bullet) I didn’t expect him to actually do it…

…and here I thought tragic yuri was common enough and we don’t have enough Tragic Yaoi Dudes…

Notably, Toi was registered on Enta’s phone as “Kuji”, while Kazuki is registered as “Kazuki” (katakana) on Toi’s.

Shots fired…!

Update: I didn’t notice this, but the evil dude with kamome written behind him (I think it’s in this episode, but it might have been in the last one instead) must be based on a seagull…because that’s what kamome means.

Bungou Stray Dogs 33 (BSD S3 Ep 8)

I think it was around here I stopped reading the scans, because the series was picked up legally anyway…but I can see the death flags for a certain Port Mafia man…one who stands at the top.

As expected…butt shot. Igarashi (or whoever’s responsible for that shot) likes butts, so between this and Sarazanmai…*imagines image of kappa!Kazuki holding a shirikodama* There’s absolutely no buts about it (LOL), there’s no shortage of butts this season.

“To think that the rabbit being hunted would show its face…” – I think it’s hard for you to say that, Akutagawa, when you yourself have no face in that frame…

Why are both Akutagawa and Fyodor Naruto running today???

“So you’re doing this for that woman.”

What is “Mukurotoride”? I don’t seem to remember…maybe I never learnt what it was. Update: Apparently a tower in Dead Apple is called Mukurotoride.

Conspiracy time! This book sounds like Kunikida’s Ability…so imagine if it were under Dazai’s nose the entire time…

Fruits Basket 9

I love how the synopsis for this episode goes, “Kyo fights Yuki, Yuki fights a cold…”

Hatsuharu’s wearing such an ostentatious fluffy jacket…LOL, I love it.

Holy cow (LOL), I forgot how old Hatsuharu is…so that means he’s 15-ish, right?

Come to think of it…I see Fruits Basket characters in Ro Te O, which I started writing at about this time in 2013. The Azrael of that time was a hybrid of Hatsuharu, Ritsu and Ayame, Tetsuya is basically Yuki and Ryou is Kyou…hmm.

Apparently, Shigure had in the 2001 anime a song that went like, “High school girls, high school girls, cute high school girls for me.” So that’s where it was??? (Context: I haven’t seen Fruits Basket 2001, but read the entire manga.)

Kimetsu no Yaiba 9

Recap time, recap time…so the lady’s in the back room and Tanjiro conveniently forgets the man is in the basement…? Wuh?

Moya was complaining about how repetitive this show can get when it comes to the script (i.e. it repeats itself because it doesn’t trust its audience, but I think that’s because this is originally serialised on TV week by week that people may forget if they’re not bingeing, taking notes or following the manga). I’ll talk more about that in my KnY collab post, I guess…

When Yushiro said “watch your back”…he really meant it, huh?

Temari are the balls, but kemari is when you kick the balls.

“…the eyeballs on his hands are creepy.” – LOL.

Shield Hero 22

The ep title just says “Hero Council”…not specifically that there are 4 of them.

My stream’s been buffering more than usual, so I went “like mother, like daughter” before Naofumi did…

It would’ve ben massively funny to hear Melty call Malty either “Trash” or “B****”…especially the last one, because that’s always a fun way to end a sentence (especially for a girl as young as her). Update: She does, but the way she does it isn’t as funny as I thought it would be (and she doesn’t end her sentence with her sister’s new name).

Wait, I thought they got rid of her slave pact??? I thought it was only for the duration of her trial that she needed it for.

L’Arc and that lady seem like they’re foreshadowing for later…hmm. Update: The next-episode synopsis says “yes”. So does that new visual.

Sarazanmai 9

I can’t believe this show’s almost over…That means I gotta get a move on with RobiHachi, but to be honest? Non-anime things are probably going to kep me busy until…a few days from now. So I’ll get RobiHachi watched then.

Characetrs are dying en masse in this episode, aren’t they??? I saw a spoiler that (well, SPOILER) Chikai’s gonna die, but I don’t know about Enta or Keppi…Update: To be honest, I thought Chikai was going to become the next monster – a gun monster, perhaps. Maybe now that I’ve finished the episode, he’ll become a real zombie. (Hey, see what I did there with the bolding…? How’s that for hiding spoilers, eh???)

Oh yeah…I forgot Enta’s sister was Kazuki’s teacher…

There was a sign behind Masa that said”Hinode Asakusa” – “hi no de” meaning roughly “under the sun” or “leaving the sun”.

Tokarev…? The gun? Gun monster, maybe? Is this a critique of the American gun…(exaggerated voice) Nah, can’t be…this is Japanese.

Lionel…Lionel…for some reason, that name in relation to soccer seems familiar...I just can’t put my finger on who it reminds me of, though. Update: Is it, perhaps, Messi…? Yes, I think that’s the guy I was thinking of…!

Aw…I’m not crying, you are…But these words were running through my head before Toi chucked the bag of money away and yelled, “F***!”: “Everything I do, I do it for you.” Isn’t that cute…?

Bungou Stray Dogs 34

“…one by one?” Junban means “sequentially”, so I don’t see why you have to use the phrase “one by one”. Or “one at a time” would also work.

Hardbank…to contrast Softbank (a phone company in Japan).

Face-stealing aliens strike again…(re: Atsushi)

Oh flip. This reminds me of my Kunikida fic…yeah, I bet you don’t remember it.

Hey, this dude! Apparently he’s from one of Kunikida’s stories. I really am approaching the end of what I know of canon…*gulp* Update: Oops, we already passed that part…

I wonder if the real Fyodor could play cello…? Or is this just a thing to make him ominous and villanous…?

The cross on the wall behind Kunikida…makes this show more like Eva than Kekkai Sensen…exquisite. Absolutely exquisite, isn’t it?

Another cool cross, behind Tanizaki!

What’s a tatamigatana? Also, I didn’t know other people could be synchronised using Doppo Poet and Ranpo’s deduction…

Does Kouyou mean (by “the one I most despise”)…Chuuya? Or herself? It’s definitely not Ace.

Kimetsu no Yaiba 10

Headpats for Yushiro as well! Headpats for everyone!

There’s a lot of Tanjiro being terrified in this episode…

Wait…Kizuki? I thought they were the 12 Moons? (Well, “tsuki” means “moon”, but then what’s the “ki”?) Update: The “ki” means “demon”, so the Kizuki are the 12 Demon Moons.

Being alone with the body…that’s always a scary thought in murder mysteries…for the people who dissect them to determine the cause of death, that is.

Considering the name of the episode is “Together Forever”…nup, I don’t see Nezuko and Tanjiro separating anytime soon…

The Kasugai crow is what happens when you can’t turn off your Google Assistant…or GPS…or Siri.

If Tanjiro knows the name of his crow, how do the crows get their names? Do their trainers (is that the right term for a crow breeder in this case…?) give them names?

OPM S2 Ep 9 (Ep 21)

LOL, that one shot of the ants…JC Staff really don’t care about this series, do they…?

I kinda forgot about Genos after a bit more than a week…sorry, I was watching other anime in between. (More than usual, at least. I started playing Chibi Tamago – a forum game for AniList where you collect badges for watching anime - that’s why.)

Did he (Pri-Pri Prisoner)…store his phone in his butt…?

#simulcast commentary #Bungou Stray Dogs #one punch man #Sarazanmai #Fruits Basket #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #the rising of the shield hero #Chesarka watches Tate no Yuusha no Nariagari #Chesarka watches BSD #Chesarka watches OPM #Chesarka watches Sarazanmai #Chesarka watches KnY #Chesarka watches Furuba #Tate no Yuusha no Nariagari

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moonbelt · 6 years

Text

»whiplash | 02

↳ fake dating au | college au

⇢ pairing: chanyeol | reader

⇢ genre: soft angst + fluff + sexual themes

⇢ word count: 6.061

⇢ description: as an aspiring big-shot photographer in a slump, you’re looking for something that inspires you and unfortunately — or maybe not — it comes in the form of a guy named Chanyeol.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

A lot could change in forty minutes.

Well, considering this is a party, and the whole point of it is to change your status from sober to drunk, you guess there's nothing particularly spectacular about that.

In the span of forty minutes, you've been introduced to the entirety of Chanyeol's friend group. Which, safe to say, is a lot. It wasn't hard for you to believe that he was friends with almost everyone in attendance. People either gave him a nod of acknowledgment or struck an immediate conversation once they saw him. As you'd expected, you and Chanyeol were complete opposites on the spectrum of college socialization. You, who slinked through parties with the only purpose of getting drunk and going home afterward which contrasted deeply against Chanyeol, who came to these parties for social interaction.

Currently, you're standing at the corner of the living room watching a group of people play Truth or Dare and wondering just how many more drinks the ringleader is going to consume before he passes out. You can swear that college kids shouldn't be this immature but you guess fun comes in different forms for different people.

Now, had this been ninth or hell even tenth grade, you would've jumped at the opportunity to join in. But as you watch them dare each other to do the most ridiculous things known to man, you shake your head. The ringleader, a junior by the name of Jongdae, keeps daring people to do shit they most definitely wouldn't dare to do sober but when he's challenged to do the same, he takes a shot instead. Absentmindedly, you wonder why the other players aren't calling him out on it but quickly decide that it's none of your business.

You tip your cup back and drain the last bit of alcohol from it. You're certainly not drunk enough to participate in that game. And even though your brain is telling you how stupid Truth or Dare is as a whole, your body is sparking for a different answer. It wants to play at least one round. It's not like anything bad can happen. Unless they dare you to strip — you are not drunk enough for that.

"So, how long have you and Chanyeol been a thing?"

The question breaks through your train of thought. The question also comes when Chanyeol has been successfully dragged away from your side, courtesy of Baekhyun, to do a round of beer pong. The question itself though comes from Jongin.

True to Chanyeol's words, Jongin is more of an observer than a participator. When Yixing was asking you questions about what you were studying and why you were studying it and all that jazz about college, Jongin had peered up at you from his red solo cup — curious but not curious enough to ask anything himself. You'd wondered why he wasn't bursting to ask you questions because the way you saw it, you were a stranger. It's only natural that someone would want to learn more about the person weaving its way into their friend group. Now you got your answer, he probably didn't care about what you studied or what you like or don't like.

In fact, you doubted Jongin cared about you at all. He cared more about you not fucking up with Chanyeol's head or heart. Apparently, Mai — Chanyeol's ex, wasn't as much as a saint that Chanyeol had made her seem to be. You didn't try to delve deep into the topic because it was obvious that the boys didn't want to talk about it, something in the way Baekhyun shifted the conversation to something completely different like something burned his ass. And Yixing's subtle shake of his head, like he didn't want to bring out the past to light.

Yixing, being Mai's best friend, you'd thought would stand up for her in her absence but instead, he'd raised his beer can to his lips and downed everything in one go. Nevertheless, all that did was solidify in your mind that whatever had happened between Mai and Chanyeol had been bad. Bad enough for Chanyeol to result to fake dating. Bad enough for you to be here, put under the scrutinizing gaze of one of his best friends.

You manage to not stutter out your reply, as you attempt to put on an air of indifference. "Almost a month now," you raise your empty cup back to your lips, lying through your teeth.

Jongin doesn't seem to be buying it, crooking an eyebrow at you. Incredulous. "Really? I didn't think Chanyeol was capable of hiding a relationship for that long. I mean, you're dating the guy so you should know. When he's in love, he makes sure everyone around him knows it too."

You lick your lips, wondering for the nth time that night why you have to be the one fighting this war.

"Yeah, I know that," you send him a nervous smile that he does not return. "We're still in the beginning stages, I wouldn't call us in love. At least not yet."

Jongin stares at you for what feels like hours but you know it to be a few seconds at most. He runs his hand through his light-brown hair, fluffing it a bit. Crushing his empty can, he sighs out in relief. "Thank God, you're smart. I thought you were going to fight me on it: tell me you and he have a connection."

He says the word 'connection' with so much venom, your skin sizzles a little.

You raise your eyebrow at that, dropping your cup from your lips. "What's that supposed to mean?" It's not like you believe explicitly in love but you still find yourself wary and uneasy about what he's said.

You wonder if this is how your friends feel whenever you bash on love.

"Oh nothing in particular," he flashes you a dazzling smile that given a normal circumstance you would've melted under. "Forget I even said anything."

"Can't-do. I'm curious now. What would you have said if I told you I was in love with Chanyeol. Not that it's any of your business anyway, but still."

Jongin flicks his eyes away from you to the group in front of the two of you. He chews on his lower lip for a few moments before he finally says:

"For one thing, I don't want Chanyeol to get his heart broken for the second time in four months."

You know that's roughly the amount of time it has been since Mai and Chanyeol called it quits, blame Baekhyun's huge mouth. You don't know why they broke up, not really, but from your perspective, Chanyeol doesn't seem that affected by the change. But in Jongin's words, you think maybe there's the possibility that you are wrong.

"I won't break Chanyeol's heart."

He turns his attention back to you and gives you a once-over. Not in a condescending manner, rather there's a sort of pity in his gaze.

"You don't really control that ___. You're not in charge of his heart and I hardly have a say in anything that happens between the two of you. But... can you please promise me one thing?"

You don't want to promise him anything. Not because you hate him or anything of that sort, but rather because you know the true nature of you and Chanyeol's relationship. Technically, there should be no heart to break. It's shouldn't even be on the table. However, you find yourself nodding your head, urging him on.

He turns his gaze from you and focuses it on the medium sized chandelier that lights up the living room, taking a deep breath. "If you ever do break up with him, do it bluntly. Don't string him along with hints or whatever. Just straight up tell him."

He looks back at you then and once your eyes connect, you see it. There's no 'if' you break up. It's more of a when. When you break up with Chanyeol. Like he expects the worst from you. There's a small, minuscule part of you that wants to challenge what he's saying. You're not the worst of the worst. You're not Mai. You're not some tornado that wants to pass by but wreak havoc as it does so.

Still, you nod your head. Because it's not like you can argue against what he's saying. You'd rather not make the situation worse.

"Okay then," he pushes himself off the wall as he gives you a small smile. "Nice talking to you ___."

"You too," you say. "You're a good friend by the way, but you should have more faith in Chanyeol. He can make his own decisions and he can fight his own battles. Besides getting your heart broken is only a process of... life."

"I guess," he tilts his head to the side. "But wouldn't I be a bad friend if I allowed him to jump headfirst into something that would end up in tears?"

You're not sure what you're about to say but Jongin doesn't give you the chance to reply anyway. Instead, he slips away from your side, leaving you to ponder on his words. You obviously know the complications that arise from fake dating. You've watched the movies, you've read the books, you have the most basic common sense.

Exhibit A): you fall in love with the other. Exhibit B): the other doesn't fall in love with you. Exhibit C): none of you fall in love and life moves on, as it always does. To be clear, you're hoping for the third option.

Falling in love is not what you want. Love is... complicated and messy. You love your friends, you love your parents (although the love for your mother has since been redacted), you love photography. You love the feeling you get from cementing something in time. Pictures that can't be erased simply or as quickly as you see love to be. Love is something that quickly comes and goes. Like the wind, it rarely stays in one place for long. And you don't want to be the one left behind.

You place your empty cup on a nearby table before you drag your phone out of your back pocket and open the Camera app. Focusing on the group making a ruckus because Yixing — who is stupidly intoxicated — is refusing to give some girl a lap dance. The look on his face is one of absolute disgust. Okay maybe not disgust, more like his face is flushing a deep red and he's stumbling over his words incoherently.

You laugh to yourself, raising your phone up and focusing it on them. You take a picture of the scene. To you, love isn't something concrete. Not like the photos you take, never like the photos you take. It's something that flows and runs with the tides and just has to run its course but once it's done, that's that.

You're about to take another shot when something else finds its way into your camera's view. It's Chanyeol. His face eating your camera's focus and you almost throw your phone away in surprise. By a miracle, you don't. Instead, you struggle with turning off your phone and sliding it back into your pocket.

"God, Chanyeol. Stop doing that," you slap his shoulders away lightly.

He rolls his eyes as a response but he raises his hands in surrender. "Sweetheart, I'm wounded," he pouts. "I thought you'd appreciate my good looks. Especially since you don't seem to be having fun at this party."

"What makes you think that?" You furrow your eyebrows. "Pretty sure this is how I am at every party."

Chanyeol's eyes widen as he closes the distance between the two of you. "Are you even drunk? Who leaves a party sober?"

"The designated driver?" You offer an answer with a meek shrug.

He rolls his eyes. "I'm the designated driver. And no, before you ask, I am not drunk."

You cross your hands over your chest, squinting your eyes up at him. "You literally just got back from playing beer pong. Pretty sure the point of that is to get drunk, no?"

"I drank water. It's Baek's party, I'm allowed to break rules. Friendship card."

Shaking your head, you try not to laugh at the triumphant look on his face. Like he's won this pseudo-argument.

"Pretty sure that's not a thing but okay. Anyways, I am getting drunk... slowly." You make a point by jabbing your finger into his chest in a manner, that you hope is considered playful.

Chanyeol nods his head slightly, not quite believing you but is willing to let the conversation drop. Opting to focus his eyes on your finger that unexpectedly is still positioned on his chest. You think maybe you're drunker than you thought. Lightheadedly, you like the feeling of his heartbeat under your touch. It feels concrete. You don't know how long the two of you stand like that, you don't register it until Chanyeol raises his own fingers and clasps them around yours softly.

"Can I ask you something?" He says, beats later when you've already felt his heart pick up the pace.

"Sure."

"Can I kiss you?"

Your eyes widen against your own accord. They widen so much you're sure someone might think you've seen a ghost. You won't lie to yourself, you do feel attracted to him, but that in no way equates to you actually acting on said attraction. Chanyeol must sense that you're one step away from walking a hundred feet away from him because he adds:

"If you don't want to, that's okay. I just really want to kiss you right now."

From the corner of your eye, you see Baekhyun staring intently at the two of you and for some reason, you're sure somewhere in the crowd, Jongin is as well. You're not so sure about Yixing, he seemed pretty occupied with the Truth or Dare game. But you know, in the long run, one of them — probably Baekhyun — would tell him about the things he missed seeing with his own eyes.

"Why would you want to kiss me?" The contract doesn't say anything about physical actions. But it doesn't say anything against it either. Chanyeol had said you would have to act like an actual couple. Couples kiss all the time, couples do a whole lot of things that aren't restricted to kissing. Involuntarily, you take a deep breath.

Chanyeol chuckles a little, the corners of his lips turning up. "I don't think I have a good enough reason. I just really want to."

I just really want to.

The phrase applies to you as well. You want to. Oh, how you want to. Love and lust and attraction are not the same. Their cousins of one another but definitely not interchangeable, you reason to yourself. It seems to be the only plausible explanation for why you push yourself up on your tippy-toes, [even though you've always thought yourself to be reasonably tall, Chanyeol dwarfs you] and press your lips on his.

By the time your lips connect with his, you can swear that his heartbeat has sped up faster than humanly possible. His lips though, are softer than you imagined. For a second or maybe two, you’re not counting, he's stunned by your actions; like maybe he hadn't expected you to do go through with it. You tense up. To be honest, you don't know why yourself. But when he takes control of the kiss, moving his lips passionately against yours, you relax, realizing that it doesn't matter. What's done is done and that's that.

He uses his free hand to wrap around the nape of your neck, pressing you deeper into him. Closing your eyes, you find that all the sounds around you are being drowned out by the loud thumping of your heart, but you're acutely aware that your body is heating up. Taking your hand out of his grasp, you weave it around his shoulders. Suddenly, you want to wrap your legs around him and let him do whatever. He could ask you anything in this state and right now, you doubt you'd fight any of his propositions.

Chanyeol leans into you, consequently pushing you up the wall. Your shirt rides up and the cool air of the room brushes against your skin and you shiver. Either he attributes this act to your response to his kiss or he finds you simply amusing because he smiles into your mouth. You knew it. He was the type. Breaking away, you refuse to open your eyes as you catch your breath. Fuck, you know better than this. But your mind and your body clearly want two different things.

"I saw you talking to Jongin," Chanyeol says after minutes of you refusing to open your eyes. You can't tell for sure but there's a challenging tone in his voice. "I hope he didn't pester you."

You shake your head, adamant. "He's worried about you."

"Let me guess, he doesn't want you to break my heart because he thinks Mai did a number on me."

Peeling your eyes open you look at him. His hair his poof-y, like a dog, a cute dog. His lips are swollen and his eyes are gazing at you intently, his body posture placid.

"Didn't she?"

Something flickers in his eyes — resentment? You don't know because he quickly masks it up with a smile that feels forced. Your eyes twitch at that.

"Does it matter? I'm over her."

Are you? You're not exactly sure what you're expecting. Maybe he'll break in tears and confirm your deepest fear and acknowledgment: that love ultimately sucks. Your hands are still loosely wrapped around his neck but it feels oddly wrong for you to continue what was happening less than five minutes ago. For reasons you don't know, you feel as if something is about to happen. Or rather, you want something to happen.

And that something that you're not expecting comes in the form of Yixing's best friend, Chanyeol's ex, the woman of many names — Mai.

She comes in with a cold breeze that you don't feel. You're too lost in Chanyeol's eyes and feeling of his fingers on your neck, absentmindedly tapping a beat you don't recognize. She comes in with a smile that you realize later on to be one of her charms. Once she walks in, you can feel the clockwork attention of everyone — non-intoxicated — fixate on you and Chanyeol and frankly, you're ready to run.

Chanyeol catches her gaze before you do. His whole body freezing up to your touch, his lips parting as he stares at her. Her. If you think in terms of artistic inspiration, she seems to be his muse. The look in his eyes, it's not one of someone that's gotten "over her." No. It reminds you of your father. Your broken father, that waits day-in-day-out for your mother. A woman that would never come back. It's the look of someone that is completely and utterly wrapped around someone else's finger. But the more you stare at him, the more you see that lingering resentment. It's sharp and daunting, begging to be seen.

You twist your body away from his and try to take a look at the person that's now heaving Yixing up. Yixing smiles blindly at his friend, throwing his arms around her. She laughs and God, you think, she's fucking pretty.

She catches your gaze and you do your best to not cower away. She's the one that Chanyeol doesn't want to date anymore. You might be doing this fake dating thing for your own reasons but you have a lot of pride. You promised to be the best girlfriend he's ever had. And goddamit, you will.

As guarded as you are, you know that you'd rather fake being in love than lose to her. Even though this isn't a battle you should be fighting and you're not so sure if you can win the war. Not when Chanyeol is looking at her like she's the best thing since sliced bread.

"Zing," she giggles — actually giggles she does. "I can't lift you by myself."

Yixing is on the verge of being passed out. You wonder why he drank so much, you kind of wanted to get to know him more. He seemed to have a lot on his mind though. Everyone fights their own battles, you figure.

Mai looks up and you watch as her eyes flicker from Baekhyun, who successfully turns his attention back to the girl he's trying to get with before they then fix on Chanyeol for the second time this night. You can tell it's a ploy, in fact, you're sure anyone with eyes can tell. But Chanyeol is blind. So fucking blind that he unhooks his hands from your body, releasing you. You shouldn't feel like you've been discarded, but you do.

"I'll help," he offers, moving from your side and quickly saddling up to her.

Of course, he'll help. Kind Chanyeol. Chanyeol that doesn't want to acknowledge the fault in anyone. Your subconscious is telling you with neon signs that there's technically nothing wrong with Chanyeol helping the poor girl out. It's humane. But the feeling in your gut is telling you otherwise.

You watch numbly as he and Mai position Yixing half-on-half on their shoulders and haul him to, you assume, her car. Once they're gone through the front door, everything seems to click back into place. The Truth or Dare group has called it quits, optioning to go outside to the back and get body slammed by the party goers that have created a dance floor there. A few eyes linger on you, the fake girlfriend of a boy that just went outside with his real ex-girlfriend. But they don't know that. So all they see is a girlfriend being left for an ex-girlfriend and they all seem to pity you. You don’t deserve the pity party though because you know it’s not you they’re sad for, its the girlfriend. Which technically, you are not.

You diffuse the thoughts away. Stop being silly, you think to yourself. It's Chanyeol. He's a nice guy, you know this. Hours ago you called this his greatest trait. Now, you wonder how you could've thought such a thing. Being nice can get you hurt, being nice could be the bane of your existence. But you keep your thoughts to yourself. Instead, you head over to the kitchen and jack open the cooler with more force than necessary.

You shouldn't be this affected by the actions taking place. Rationally, you and Chanyeol aren't close enough for that. But still, he's the closest thing you have to a friend apart from Sehun and WooJin. You've known those two since middle school, it's a different kind of friendship. You understand Jongin's point of view better now. You want to preserve whatever this is with Chanyeol. Fake girlfriend or not. He's a nice guy, you desperately reason. He doesn't deserve to be strung along by his ex, although this is all speculation on your part.

You wonder if Mai usually randomly shows up to a party uninvited. Maybe someone had called her? Yixing? Chanyeol did say that whatever Yixing knew, Mai knew soon enough. Maybe she was jealous? You scoff.

Cracking open a bottle, you take a long gulp. On good days, you pace yourself. Nothing worse than getting ridiculously drunk and losing your senses all at once. But you say screw it. It's not like you're the designated driver. As you pull the mouth of the bottle from your lips, you realize that you're once again left alone at the party.

A lot could change in an hour and twenty minutes.

A whole fucking lot.

You drag your phone from your back pocket and check the time. Twelve forty-three A.M. You wonder if Chanyeol's ready to leave. Then you wonder how long it can possibly take for someone to safely put someone else in a car. It shouldn't take this long, you don't think.

Maybe they were struggling with hauling him in the backseat? Maybe they need help? Chanyeol looks pretty strong, with his biceps that you've definitely not torched into your brain. Maybe his physique was just for show and in reality, he's weak? Maybe — oh, fuck it. You're tired of trying to rationalize your next course of action. So, gingerly you place the bottle of alcohol on a kitchen counter before you make your way out of the house. Trying your best to avoid stepping into other people's paths.

Once your outside, you take calming breaths you didn't know you needed. You want out of this party. Every time you hang out with Chanyeol, for some inane reason, you always seem to have your principles questioned. Your character isn't one that's usually this feeble, you like to believe, it's just something you're having a hard time coming to terms with. Maybe Chanyeol really is a goblin, better to believe in a magical being than something else.

You trudge around the perimeter, looking for them. They couldn't have gone that far but it takes you an extra four minutes or so before you find them. Well, it's only Chanyeol and Mai. There's a car too, so you presume Yixing to be inside. Probably wondering why his best friend isn't driving him back home. You walk until your close enough to hear what they're saying, not that it's hard they're practically whisper-yelling before you halt your steps.

"This isn't about what you want Mai! You can't just not want me and then all of a sudden turnaround and say you do." Chanyeol's voice is strained and even though you can't clearly see his face, you can imagine the pain in his eyes.

Her laughter is throatily sensual and in another world, you'd think it to be sexy but now, it makes you cringe in your soul.

"I never didn't want you, Yeol. You're the one that decided to break up with me for something so petty, to be honest—"

"Petty?" Chanyeol drops the whisper, incredulous. "You cheated. That's not a petty reason—"

Mai cuts him off, they seem to do that more often than not. "Exactly my point. I asked, no, I told you I wanted a break for a while."

"A-are you serious right now? All you did was cancel on all my dates for weeks and say you were sick. You told me you didn't want to see me for a while. We never took a break."

Mai leans on her car door, thoroughly unimpressed by Chanyeol's words. You have this sudden urge to run up and deck her. Punch her so hard that she flies across the street and smacks her body into a pole, you refrain though. Not because you want to, it's more because you want Chanyeol and her to scream whatever this is out.

"Oh, Chanyeol. I'm sorry if you think I—"

"I fucking trusted you." He sounds defeated. "You gave me no reason as to why you cheated on me with that dude. Fuck, I gave you all of me. Everything. Why wasn't that enough?"

You answer this question in your head — Love rarely is enough. Sometimes the Universe has to really want two people to be together for it to work. Although your answer doesn't ease the twitching of your hand or the pumping of your heart, you're revved up and ready to fire one at her.

You had given her the benefit of the doubt; maybe she and Chanyeol had just fallen out of love but no. Oh shit, their relationship really was like your parents in more ways than one. Woman cheater and a man who's still hopelessly holding out hope. A tale you're so tired of seeing.

"Your new girlfriend," she attempts to change the topic and you can see the twitch of Chanyeol's eye. "She's cuter than me, I'm surprised."

Don't hate her, you repeat to yourself. Hold out hope. No one can be so irredeemable a person. You never understood why someone would cheat, it wasn't something that made sense to you. Boys cheat, girls cheat. Why? You can't fathom. Do they even need a reason to cheat? Are they just bad people that found themselves in a relationship? But that's why hookups exist. It takes the cheating part out of relationships. You can't possibly have your cake and eat it.

"___ is also way better person than you. Honorable, trustworthy. Not a pest."

Mai laughs, you find that unbelievable. "Why didn't you tell your mom why you broke up with me? She keeps calling me asking me to forgive you."

You find that Mai has a very short attention span. One second she's discussing you and the next she's talking about someone's mother.

"You know what? Forget it. Doesn't matter anyway," she pushes herself off her car and moves closer to him. "I still love you, Yeol, and I miss you. Whatever is going on with ___ or whoever, it wouldn't be the same as 'us.' You and I, were meant to be."

In a blur of seconds, Mai reaches up and kisses his cheek and soon after she's jogging to the driver seat of her sleek navy blue car and just like that she's off, barely giving Chanyeol or you sufficient time to register her words. You're not even sure of what to do. Do you try and tell Chanyeol that the words that woman said are all lies? He dated her for five years. He should know her well enough to know she's pulling lies out of her ass.

You and I were meant to be.

She came prepared to pull Chanyeol down her hell. She knows that Chanyeol is a romantic, believes in all the tales and riddles written in the sky. You'd told Jongin that Chanyeol could fight his battles and that he should trust him more. Chanyeol isn't stupid. You bet he knows that Mai doesn't really want him. Not in the way he wants or wanted her.

You're brought out of your inner monologue by the sounds of gut-wrenching sobs. Such loud cries that it feels like the whole street is wailing. You whip your head up and see Chanyeol crouched down, tears unrelenting as they stream down his face. You were right. He's definitely not over her. For a moment, you watch him. You can tell that he really did love her, or at least he loved the her he thought she was.

Cautiously, you make your way up to him and crouch down to his level. He looks so small, the big giant you know him to be is gone. You wonder just how much power you can have over someone to reduce them to this state.

"Channie?" You try not to startle him. "It's me, ___."

He doesn't look up but he bites his lower lip in an attempt to stop sobbing, opting instead to sniffle and clutch his hand to his chest. Chanyeol the nice guy, Chanyeol the nice guy is in pain because he gave his heart to someone that didn't need it.

"What happened? Tell me." You heard most of the gist but you want to hear it from him. You want him to affirm what he knows. You want him to come to terms with the fact that Mai and he are a done deal.

He shakes his head, turning his face opposite from your general direction. "It's fine. I'm fine."

"Oh, Chanyeol," you scoot closer to him, taking his shaking hand in yours. "That's not what I'm asking."

The two of you stay like that. Occasionally, a loud sound escapes his lips and it feels like he's about to start the journey of crying again but after a while, it dies out to irregular sniffling. And then before you can calculate the consequences, you engulf him in your arms. It's a struggle but you deem it worth it when you finally feel him calm down. It takes more minutes before he wraps his arms around you as well and you feel whole.

"I'm fine, really. I guess I'm just realizing how little I meant to her. She doesn't miss me. She misses the acts of being in a relationship, I think. I could be a stick and she'd claim to love me just because I gave her affection."

You nod your head in agreement. "Sometimes the people we love just don't love us back."

This time Chanyeol doesn't make an effort to fight your statement. He doesn't say "I loved her." He doesn't try to justify her actions. This time there's none of that. Just silence as he accepts the fact.

He pulls away from your arms first and rises to his full height before he offers his arm to you. You take it, and he effortlessly drags you up.

"I hate that you just saw me cry. Embarrassing."

You shrug your shoulders. "It's okay to cry about things, Channie. Life is shit, we're allowed to cry about it."

"I know," he breathes out. "I just... it's so stupid. I've known it since forever."

"It's not stupid." You let go of his hand, reluctantly and run them through your hair. "Remember what you said sweetheart," you finally make a gibe out of it and he finally cracks a smile.

"What did I say?"

"That I should let you know if I got uncomfortable. It seems that tonight it applies to you."

He uses a hand to wipe the traces of tears off his face. He must have forgotten what he said before the two of you walked into the party. The two of you are a team. For the next three weeks, you were going to be here just as you think he would be. Chanyeol is your... friend. And friends stick with each other. Regardless if you had a hot make-out session minutes ago. Simpler times. You can feel your body heat up by the mere reminder of it, so you shake your head to dispel the thoughts.

"Thank you," Chanyeol says with sincerity. "Really."

A lot could change in an hour and fifty minutes.

It seems that no matter how hard you try, you and Chanyeol just keep getting closer. You've seen him break down in tears and if anything you feel empathetic for him. Unlike you, his love doesn't drag him down. Unlike you, he's not running away from everything that could be. You didn't think anything about getting into this relationship with him, other than the fact that you got a model. Now, you think maybe you're getting more than you bargained for. Love is complicated and messy and it's something you don't want to associate with. But for a split second, you wonder what it'd be like to experience love with Chanyeol.

Not that boy from high school that broke your heart, not your mother that broke both you and your fathers. Both cheaters. Both the same as Mai. All of them without a concrete reason for doing what they did. They don't need one anyway, it's not like you can excuse a cheater. Frankly, you're quite obsessed with the concept of concrete. Concrete friendships, concrete photos, concrete life. You want things stable. If things are stable, then nothing can move it. Not the change of the tides, not the blowing winds. Stable is good. Stable connects you down to earth. Stable keeps you grounded.

But Chanyeol isn't the boy from your high school. He’s free but not reckless, he knows his limits. He knows what is true and what is false, he knows not to hold out hope for things that are a dead-end. His heart is kind and longs for the type of love that can last till kingdom come. But he's not stupid to believe any love that comes his way. He's definitely not your mother. And most importantly, you're certain he's not the same as Mai. Still, even with all these blazing facts, you’re adamant about not trusting this feeling, the feeling that maybe if it's Chanyeol it'll be okay. If it's him, then love doesn't need to be strange and ridiculously complicated.

With him, you think, it'll just be.

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