#like it already changed the way my brain is wired the first time i watched

[magizombi]

Tell me how literally both times I watched death note I ended it feeling like I have been changed as a person forever

#like it already changed the way my brain is wired the first time i watched #why did this rewatch make me feel the sane #like the ending of dn gave me the same empty melancholy sad tragic feelings i got when i finished animorphs #abd it did it to me AGAIN this rewatch #its good shit #zombi.txt #si

[pathologicalreid]

Can I please request protective Spencer x BAU!Reader who get "lightly" hurt or put in danger bc SWAT or local police made a mistake, and Spencer goes OFF on them. Hotch or Rossi have to calm him down because no one but the BAU knows theyre dating. I'd love to see protective Spencer if possible :)

no sign of danger | S.R.

when SWAT makes a mistake that puts you in danger, your boyfriend is... displeased

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: flangst content warnings: bloody nose, concussion, split lip, blood, mild violence. spencer reid says the f word. word count: 1.58k a/n: anon, not to be dramatic but something about writing this changed my brain chemistry. thank you for requesting!!! i hope you like it!

The time between arriving at a scene and when SWAT cleared the building was almost always intolerable. There were too many variables at play. It made you uneasy.

So, you waited, leaning on the side of an SUV with your Kevlar already strapped on, you turned to look at Hotch, “We’ve got an audience.”

Breadcrumbs that Garcia had picked up led the team to a house in a small town in Arizona. Unfortunately, the FBI garnered a lot of attention, and neighbors were starting to gather around the house. Hotch nodded, “Reid, JJ, work with the locals on crowd control, and make sure no one is recording. The last thing we need is for the news crews to show up.”

You offered Spencer a small smile as he turned to follow the blond to the barrier. He waved behind his back as he walked away.

Chuckling from right next to you got your attention, just to see Morgan shaking his head, “You two have it so bad.”

“I like to think we have it good, actually,” you said, flushing slightly. The teasing came with the territory, dating within the BAU meant never knowing a moment of peace – especially with Derek Morgan around.

There wasn’t an opportunity for him to respond, because as soon as he opened his mouth, your radio buzzed to life in your ear, “Building is clear. No sign of danger.” At the sound of the SWAT commander’s voice, you and Morgan surged forward to enter the building, Emily and Hotch following close behind.

Behind you, Hotch cleared his throat, “Morgan, Y/L/N, take the two rooms in the back, we’ll take the front.”

Nodding at your orders, you and Morgan walked past the staircase and to the opposite end of the house, where the kitchen and the den were. “This place looks like it’s been abandoned,” you thought aloud, dragging your index finger along the kitchen counter, and cringing when it came back covered in dust.

As you wiped your hand on your jeans, you looked up to see Morgan sorting through a vinyl record collection. “You’re right. It doesn’t look like anyone’s even entered this house in years.”

You hummed, opening the first cabinet you saw, wrinkling your nose at the discovery that the house also smelled like it had been abandoned. As you went to close the cabinet, the one below you swung open, the force of the doors almost knocking you to the ground.

Stumbling back, you saw a flash of hands before you were slammed into the refrigerator behind you. Immediately, you dropped to the floor, watching as Morgan tackled the guy and shouted for Hotch and Prentiss.

“We need an ambulance, Y/N’s down,” Emily spoke urgently into her radio while Morgan cuffed your attacker.

You winced at the way the radio buzzed in your ear; the way Emily’s voice echoed combined with the throbbing pain in your head made you nauseous. “What do you mean ‘Y/N’s down’?” Spencer’s voice rang through the radios, prompting you to haphazardly yank the coiled wire from your ear.

Everything sounded like you were underwater, Emily and Hotch asked you questions as the fog cleared from your head, “You’re bleeding,” Emily said, there was a worried look in her eyes.

Hesitantly, you pulled your hand from your face, just to see it covered in blood. You weren’t even sure how long you had been holding your hand to your face. “Can you stand?” Hotch asked you, his tone was concerned, but there was something else buried within it.

Nodding slowly, both of them helped you stand. Emily hooked an arm through yours when you stumbled slightly, she led you out of the house and to the ambulance. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Morgan place his hand atop your attacker’s head, protecting it from the top of the police cruiser.

As soon as you sat down on the back of the ambulance, an EMT handed you a towel to hold to your nose. Your eyes flittered up to see Spencer approaching the ambulance, but to your surprise, he turned at the last moment and faced down the SWAT commander. “What happened in there?” He asked, his tone wholly accusatory.

“It looks like the person of interest was hiding in the kitchen when your team entered,” Commander Polk answered, obviously thinking Spencer was just asking for a sort of status report.

Spencer shook his head, “We’re hunting for a serial killer, and you had the audacity to miss the presence of an entire person?” He asked incredulously, “Did you even clear the kitchen?” He pointed in the direction of the house, where Rossi and JJ were now entering to look around more.

The SWAT commander faltered for a moment, “Someone did, but it wasn’t me personally.”

You winced as the EMT prodded at your face, surmising that your nose wasn’t broken, just bleeding badly as a result of the blunt force of the refrigerator. She pulled your hand from your face so she could inspect for any further damage. You opened your mouth to talk, but the EMT was quick to stop you, “You shouldn’t talk, not until we can look at the cut on your lip.”

While the EMTs got more supplies out, Emily helped you take off your Kevlar vest, undoing the Velcro for you and gently tugging it off. The entire front of it was covered in blood, you winced at the sight of the now-red letters.

“You need to figure out whoever checked the kitchen and make sure they know what they’re doing,” Spencer said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Commander Polk’s demeanor instantly changed, “I assure you, agent, we take training our team very seriously. This was just a mistake.”

Even from this distance, you saw Spencer roll his eyes. “First of all, it’s doctor,” he corrected – at which you rolled your eyes. “Second of all, of course, you take training seriously, it’s mandated by the federal government. This was a mistake, a mistake that ended in the injury of a federal agent,” you looked from Hotch to Spencer, hoping your unit chief would do something before Spencer got punched by the SWAT commander. “SWAT making mistakes gets other law enforcement officers killed,” he continued.

“What’s your point, doctor?” The commander asked.

Spencer cleared his throat, “I’m saying you’re fucking lucky she didn’t get killed, or else-“

“Reid!” Hotch called, stalking over to where your boyfriend was nearly getting into a fistfight with SWAT. He muttered something unintelligible to Polk before dragging Spencer away by the elbow, “What was that?”

Your boyfriend threw his hands up in the air, “He needed to be made aware of their mistake.”

Sternly, your unit chief shook his head, “They are aware, Reid, and I assure you I’m not going to drop it and there will be an internal investigation into what went wrong.” He raised his eyebrows, “That being said, it’s not your job to take care of mistakes made by other people.”

“No,” Spencer agreed, “but it is my job to take care of her,” he said, gesturing over to where you were sitting in the back of the ambulance.

Hotch pointed around to the locals and other SWAT members, “They don’t know that, Reid.” He whispered, keeping his voice down so he didn’t expose your relationship to everyone in the Arizona town. “Let me take care of it,” was his final statement before he walked back to Commander Polk.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Spencer spun around and finally walked over to you. Emily nodded at you before stepping away, “Are you alright?” He asked.

You flashed him a thumbs up, gesturing toward the EMT, who answered for you, “We just glued the gash on her lip, so she can’t really talk right now. She’ll be fine though, maybe a small scar, if anything.”

“Good,” Spencer said, ambling over and taking a seat next to you. “I was so worried about you,” he murmured, and you watched as he restrained himself from touching you.

Humming, you leaned into him for just a moment. Your movement was intentional, but it was quick enough that any passersby would assume you were just unsteady.

The EMTs left once the glue on your lip dried, directing you to ice it periodically to help with swelling and handing you care instructions.

You were left with a mild concussion, a split lip, and ruined clothes. All things considered, you felt like you were pretty lucky. The rest of the team piled into the SUVs, you and Spencer sitting in the back of one with Hotch at the helm and Emily in the passenger seat. “Who knew Reid had it in him?” Emily wondered aloud, eliciting a small laugh from you.

“I can’t believe you almost got into a physical fight with SWAT over a split lip and concussion,” you said, smiling slightly, but stopping as you felt the glue on your lip tugging.

Spencer rolled his eyes, “It wasn’t over the split lip and concussion, it was over the abhorrent display of-“

“Reid,” Hotch said in his no-nonsense tone.

Your boyfriend slouched back in his seat, “So, maybe it was over the split lip and concussion.”

Closing your eyes, you reached over the middle seat and took his hand in yours, “Thanks, Spence.” You whispered so that only he could hear, leaning over the gap between you and setting your head on his shoulder.

please remember to like, reblog, and/or comment if you enjoyed!

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #margot's asks #written by margot #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds angst

[hotyanderedaddies]

Yandere Puppy Boy Wants to be Your Good Boy

[Yandere! Puppy Boy! Boyfriend x GN Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

You and Evan have been dating for about a year now. You met in freshman year of college, and seemed to hit it off really well. It kind of amazed you at first that you'd managed to snag a total hunk like Evan.

Evan was the epitome of jock bro: Always working out at the gym, goofing off with his fellow jock friends, and watching tons of sports on TV. Meanwhile, you were a skinny nerd who was at the college on an academic scholarship since you practically lived in the library.

Still, Evan proved to be a great boyfriend. He was funny, attentive, loving-- a total catch. Plus, he was muscular AF!

Then one day, you saw an ad online that sparked your interest, and you couldn't resist purchasing the advertised dog collar that was leather with little spikes adorning it. Once it arrived in the mail, you approached Evan in your shared apartment.

He was on the couch in just his boxers, playing video games. He eyed you, seeing the smirk on your face. "What's up, Babe?" he grunted.

You blushed a little bit. "I just wanted to try something tonight... if you're cool with it?" you asked. Your sex life with Evan was not lacking whatsoever, but it was still healthy to spice things up every now and then.

You pulled the dog collar out from behind your back, holding it up.

At first, Evan laughed. "You want me to wear a dog collar?" he snorted.

"If you don't like it, we can take it off," you shrug, walking up to fasten it around his thick, muscular neck.

The way the leather collar with the spikes fit around Evan's neck made him look really tough, but he felt ridiculous at first. His face was bright red.

You thought he looked kind of cute. "Aww," you cooed, "who's a good boy?" You playfully ruffled his hair.

Good boy...

Something clicked in Evan's brain as soon as you uttered that phrase, and he felt his entire wiring being redone, as if every single instinct he possessed was being reshaped.

Evan's face broke out into a smile alight with zeal, and he dropped onto all fours in front of your feet. "Me!" he happily gushed. "I'm a good boy!"

Holy crap!

You were shocked at how quickly Evan's mind had changed. You weren't sure he'd be into it at all, but looking down at him now, he seemed to be having the time of his life. His muscular pecs heaved with excitement as he sat on all fours in front of you, eagerly awaiting a command. His boxers were already tented out too, damn!

"You're my good boy!" you chuckled as you leaned down and gave your boyfriend some head pats.

"Woof! Woof!" Evan excitedly barked.

That night, he showed you that he was a pro at doggy style, even howling when he came inside of you. The collar was definitely $14 well spent, in your opinion.

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

Much to your surprise, Evan loved being a good puppy boy for you. Well... "loved" is probably an understatement.

Evan refused to take the dog collar off, even wearing it out whenever the two of you left the apartment for date nights. At first you thought at it was just him exploring his sexual side some more... but as time went on...

Every time you entered the apartment from work or classes, Evan would excitedly bound over to you on all fours, barking happily and begging for head pats and belly rubs. With his massive bulk, he easily pinned you down, refusing to let you move until he got his pets.

Evan would pin you down on the bed, leaning down to kiss you-- but now his versions of kissing were like puppy licks. He'd lap his tongue all over your face, barking with glee despite your annoyed expression.

You'd be sitting on the couch, trying to watch TV when Evan would crawl over to you (he's been constantly walking around on all fours), wearing nothing but his spiked dog collar. He'd mount your leg and start humping it, whimpering as he rutted his hard cock against you like a dog would against its toy. (You had to apologize to your friend, who was visiting, for the awkward sight.)

You'd be trying to fall asleep after a long shift at work feeling so utterly exhausted when Evan would whimper at the foot of the bed. "Whaaaat?" you'd groan.

"Am I a good boy?" he'd whimper, his voice cracking like an injured puppy's.

"...damn it, yes, Evan. You're a good boy," you'd mutter, getting fed up with this quickly.

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

Your friends were starting to pick up on your change of mood, seeing that you were more irritable throughout the day, and not wanting to leave work immediately.

Sensing this, they invited you to the bar after work, to which you happily agreed.

You loved Evan, of course, but you were totally over his new puppy persona. And despite how many times you tried to tell him, all he'd do was tune you out, and beg for pets.

You really needed a break.

"Y/N?" your coworker, Joshua asked, noting how you'd practically downed your cocktail in one gulp. "What's up? What's bothering you?"

You didn't want to be one of those people who go to others whenever you had relationship problems, but you felt lost. "It's just Evan..." you muttered.

Joshua, who was actually a genuine friend who just so happened to be a guy, put a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. "I'm sure things will get better," he smiled at you.

A large part of you felt guilty since you were the one who'd purchased the damn dog collar in the first place, but you couldn't stand the thought of Puppy Evan and having to listen to his barking or him chewing on his squeaker toys for one more night.

Before you could say anything else, a low growl made you jerk back.

Evan stomped into the bar, still wearing the studded collar, his eyes narrowed at Joshua as he bared his teeth at him.

"Grrr..." Evan bellowed out a deep growl, all of his large muscles tensed up, making him look big and ferocious.

Joshua immediately retracted his hand from your shoulder, backing away quickly.

"Evan? What are you...?" you try to ask as your puppy boyfriend wraps a large arm around your waist, pulling you roughly into him.

"Mine!" he barked at Joshua, tightening his grip on you.

You were stunned.

He stopped growling when he looked at you, his eyebrows knitting together as he whimpered. "You didn't come home," he whined, nuzzling you. "I had to come find you."

He didn't give you a chance to respond, and instead threw you over his broad shoulder. He puffed out his chest and held his head up with pride, as a dog does whenever they find a cool stick at the park, and carried you all the way home.

You were mortified, wondering how you were going to show your face at work after that. All you could do was seethe with anger as your puppy boyfriend took you home.

Once you were inside, Evan got down on all fours and whined at you. "Wasn't I being a good boy?" he asked. "Why didn't you come home? I missed you all day!"

"Evan, stand up--"

Evan whimpered like a puppy, nuzzling his head against your hand as he asked for head pats.

That was the final straw for you (a small one, but it was like death by a thousand paper cuts).

"I'm done," you finally huff, walking down the hall so that you could pack up some clothes and leave.

"D-done?" Evan yelped, quickly crawling behind you. "But why? Haven't I been a good boy?"

I grabbed your suitcase out of the closet, trying not to look at your puppy boyfriend as he begged in the doorway, perched on his legs with his arms out in front of him, his eyes wide and pleading.

Annoyed, you turned to sneer at him. "No!" you spat. "You've been a bad boy!"

"I'm a bad boy...?" Evan yelped.

You kept your back to him as you packed up your suitcase. Just as you were almost done, you heard that eerie growl again.

"Grrr..."

You quickly turned around and paled when you saw Evan on all fours, standing in front of the door. He was baring his teeth at you and growling deeply, his chest muscles puffed up and making him look all the more menacing. The pissed off glare on his face was akin to a feral dog, and he snarled in your direction.

"E-Evan, please g-get out of the way," you trembled, taking a small step towards the bedroom door so that you could leave.

Evan barked loudly, stomping his hand/paw onto the floor forcefully as he steeled his stance. He continued to snarl at you, lunging forward to scare you.

It worked and you stumbled back, falling onto your ass. You tried to back away from him, but Evan quickly crawled over to you.

He pinned both of your arms down onto the floor above your head, unleashing a loud snarl and he pushed his angry face up close to yours.

"Am I a good boy?" he snarled, baring his sharp teeth at you. "Or am I still a bad boy?"

Your heart raced in your chest. Evan is much stronger than you, and you knew you couldn't fight him off. Plus, the way he bared his teeth at you and the animalistic growl that escaped his throat was much more dog than man, making you shudder.

"Y-yes!" you stuttered. "You're a good boy, Evan!"

Instantly, Evan stopped growling and his broke out into a joyous smile. "I'm a good boy?" he asked, his muscles tensing with with excitement. He still kept you pinned down.

Hell no!

But you didn't want him to maul you or bite out your neck with his teeth. So instead, you slowly nodded.

"You're the bestest boy," you cringed.

Evan's smile grew wider. "'The Bestest'?" he repeated. "I guess if that were true... then you'd never, ever leave. Right?" He narrowed his eyes at you, trying to gauge your reaction.

His chest rumbled as a growl began to form, warning you to answer correctly.

You force a smile onto your face, but it's pained.

"O-of course not," you stammer, your heart falling as you sealed your fate. "You're... my, *gulp, good boy."

Evan smiled widely as leant down to lap at your face as he gave you puppy kisses. "I'm a good boy," he playfully growled as he began to rut his hardening cock against you.

#yandere boyfriend #yandere boy #yandere x reader #yandere x you #obsessive love #yandere daddy #possessive boyfriend #yandere puppy boy #puppy boy #good boy #yandere good boy

[c-schroed]

Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992) Or Why The Probably Most Accurate Movie Adaptation Of Dracula Still Is Not Accurate Enough

I mentioned some time ago - while salivating over the marvellous razor scene of Francis Ford Coppola's Dracula adaptation - that there is quite some stuff to unpack here. And now I found some time to unpack. So let's begin. I'll start with the good stuff, firstly the good stuff that's not in the book (i.e., the Flourishes), than the good stuff that's true to the book (the Well-Conserved). Thirdly, I'll make note of things that were, unnervingly, changed (by which I mean They Came Back Wrong), and then I'll deal with what is unfortunately left out from the book (the Missing). And finally, finally I'll rant over that two bad things that never were in the book in the first place (a section I'll call JUST WHY?).

So. A tragedy in five acts. Here we go.

Act I - The Flourishes

The razor scene. I think I dealt with this enough by now. It's perfection and I'll die on that hill.

The music. Obviously, Bram Stoker's gothic lil masterpiece is lacking some gorgeous score. But mourn no longer, because Wojciech Kilar cooked up some dashing, pushing tune for us, fitting perfectly to this dark tale of spreading darkness and deepening madness.

Some basic knowledge about blood groups. Yeah, Stoker can't be blamed for this, but still. It's a nice addition to remind us that we do indeed live in a world where blood groups exist.

The Westenra Estate. As much as I pity that the lovely town of Whitby did not make it into the movie, I do love Lucy Westenra's house. Because I'm a sucker for hedge mazes. Simple as that.

Those glasses. Those. Fucking. Nice. Glasses.

Act II - The Well-Conserved

The plot in general. Yes, there are a lot of maddening differences, as we will see soon. But still, this movie at least makes the impression that most of the people working on it had indeed read the darn novel. Which is something that I can't say about many other Dracula adaptations I have seen.

The costumes, the sets, the atmosphere. Well done, everyone!

The Actors. The good thing about being not native in a language is that one is not very prone to dialects that seem off. And as I happen to not be a native speaker of English, I have little problems with Keanu Reeves and Winona Ryder adding some US touch to what should be very, very, v e r y British characters. I even find Reeves perfectly fitting for the oh so darn young Jonathan Harker. And the rest of the cast is marvellous, too (with the exception of Winona Ryder, see below for details). Especially Tom Waits, who is hard-wired to the name of Renfield in my brain ever since I first saw this movie. And Gary Oldman as Dracula… Well. I think I already made clear what opinion I have about that sexy bastard.

Some lucky few of lovely quotes made it over to the film. Dracula's welcome. The Fowl Bauble of Human Vanity, of course. And Qunincey almost making me faint when saying "Little girl" when I least expected it.

Act III - They Came Back Wrong

The dates. Goshdarnit, the dates! It's an epistolary novel, so why make the effort of making up completely new dates for events that already had a precise date in the novel? I just don't get it. And it unnerves me. Every. Fucking. Time.

Time in general. Watching the movie after Dracula Daily makes it feel so very, very hasty. Jonathan travels to Castle Dracula like it's no thing at all. And the first few days in Castle Dracula are condensed into one weird evening.

Dracula meeting Mina before Jonathan is back. I really, really loved the book for avoiding the most terrible tropes. And then comes this movie, and struts right into this terrible pitfall.

Mina. I'm sorry, usually I love the work of Winona Ryder, but here she was way too bland. Maybe it was because her character had quite a revamp (ha. ha.) and no one cared to tell her what new approach she should take. But whatever reason, the clever, adorable train fiend of the original did not deserve this!

Act IV - The Missing

The Voyage of the Demeter is way too short. Where is "But I am captain, and I must not leave my ship"? Where is the poor sea captain tying himself to the wheel? And where is his funeral? Oh, I really missed all that. And, I mean, I don't mind hearing Anthony Hopkins read the lines, but would it have been such an expense to at least hire an additional actor to voice the correspondent or the sea captain?

Jonathan Holding Mina By the Arm. That's really not an objectively big issue. That's just me who fell in love with JonMina after reading this chapter. And almost no one does it properly. They deserve justice!

(Thanks a ton to @smieska for capturing my mood just perfectly!)

Act V - JUST WHY?

Elisabeta. Don't get me wrong here: All of the oh so tragic Drac backstory they invented for this movie is terribly unnecessary. But in this sea of uselessness, the tragically deceased wife of Vlad Țepeș that just so happens to perfectly resemble Mina Murray is an audience-insulting island of unoriginality. I mean, yeah, I guess someone wanted to add some romance to the story of Vlad the Fucking Impaler. Because, well, nineties or so. But Mina, of all women? Why not invent some new character that can be bothered with such stuff? Why ruin an all-nice JonMina ship? I don't get the whole new backstory, and I especially don't get this aspect.

Dracula raping Lucy in his shitty werewolf form. Everything about this is wrong. And it has no relevance for the plot. Just. Blergh.

Epilogue

It's cruel to watch Francis Ford Coppola's take on Dracula right after finishing @re-dracula. I know that now. Everything is still too fresh. It's a good movie, after all, but especially because it's quite good it is frustrating to be so terribly aware of all its shortcomings. In a few weeks or so, I would recommend it, again, I guess. As long as it's still Dracula Off-Season. 7 out of 10 points.

#thank you for coming to my ted talk #dracula 1992 #bram stoker's dracula #dracula movie #francis ford coppola #keanu reeves #winona ryder #anthony hopkins #tom waits #dracula daily #jonmina #jonathan harker #mina harker #movie recommendation #movie review #schroed's thoughts

[loove-persevering]

Promise (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Description: Reader is helping Dustin and Eddie with the bats when things go south. Eddie makes the reader promise to admit her feelings for Steve if they make it out alive.

Warnings: SPOILERS SEASON 4, Character Death, Broken bones, Gore, Mentions of death.

‘’Promise me you’re not going to do something to get yourself killed?’’ Steve asks you. You were both sitting outside the RV, you were wrapping the wire around the spear you were going to use against the bats in the upside down.

You rolled your eyes at his assumption, ‘’I’m don’t plan on dying anytime soon Steve,’’ You set down the spear on your lap looking at him, ‘’You better not either.’’ You say threatening him. ‘’Then who is going to drive me around?’’ You say earning a hint of a smile from him. ‘’I’m thinking of making you drive me to Yosemite next.’’

‘’Yosemite huh?’’ He asks, sounding amused, ‘’I’ve always wanted to go on a roadtrip like that, take all my kids with me when I have them.’’ He tells you.

‘’Kids as in plural?’’ You ask him. ‘’You already have like six,’’ You say gesturing out in the field to Dustin and Eddie who were wrestling, Dustin was in a headlock making you laugh.

‘’And I want six of my own too,’’ He says and you widen your eyes at him making him laugh, ‘’I could change my mind but at least two, no three.’’ He sounded very sure of his answer.

‘’A big family sounds nice,’’ You tell him.

‘’You think so? Doesn’t scare you away when I say that?’’ He asks fiddling with his hands.

‘’No not at all, plus it makes sense you’re an only child. Figures you’d want a big family.’’ You tell him.

He looked at you like he was shocked, he let out a sigh before he spoke. ‘’I never really thought of that, but it makes sense.’’

‘’I always do Harrington,’’ You say, taking your hand pushing on his arm gently. You glance up noticing Nancy and Robin talking, she was sawing her gun down it seemed like her conversation with Jason made her a little on edge. ‘’So you and Nancy?’’ You ask Steve.

He looked a little uncomfortable when you asked, ‘’What about us?’’ He asks and you give him an annoyed look, he knew what you were asking. ‘’I don’t know what's going on I’m just as confused as you.’’ He explains. ‘’I think apart of it is because Jonathan is halfway across the country.’’

You look down at the ground unsure of what to say, ‘’What if it’s not that?’’ He looks over to you, ‘’Would you do that again?’’ You ask him, it was practically eating you alive to know.

‘’I feel like a lot of things got left unresolved with us,’’ Is all he answers, ‘’Would it be wrong if I did?’’ He ask you.

‘’I mean it’s your love life Steve,’’ You point out. ‘’Why do you care what I think anyway?’’

Steve looked at you, his face looked like he was confused, ‘’I always care what you think Y/N,’’ He tells you.

You stand up and Steve looked to you as you did, ‘’Who knows what happens when we go in upside down Steve, you almost died earlier.’’ You say scrunching your face up at the thought, seeing Steve on the floor, those bats gnawing at his skin would forever be etched in your brain. ‘’Now is not the time to hold in emotions, if you care about someone you tell them.’’ You see Steve visually take a deep breath, he patted his hands on his jeans standing up next to you. You watched his eyes on Nancy as he took a hand patting your back walking over to her, Robin slowly made her way over to you.

‘’You okay?’’ She asks.

You watched Nancy smile at something Steve said and you shake your head turning to Robin. ‘’Never better,’’ You say, offering her a fake smile.

If only you could take your own advice.

______________________

Steve was the first to go into the upside down, then Nancy followed of course. Then Robin and finally it was your turn, you grabbed onto the sheets pulling yourself up and finally felt yourself free falling, landing on your back knocking the wind out of you. Steve reached out a hand helping you up, as soon as you were on your feet you pulled your hand from his and he seemed distressed. ‘’You okay?’’ He says his hand is touching the side of your arm.

‘’We are currently upside down, how do you think I’m doing?’’ You say the sarcasm dripping from your voice.

‘’Right,’’ Steve says, a moment later a pile of weapons falls down landing on the mattress. You and Steve both turn looking down at it, you bend down grabbing as many as you could, taking yours and strapping it behind your back.

It was moments before you all split up, just as you walked out of the RV behind Dustin and Eddie that Steve stopped you. ‘’Hey listen, if things start to go south, I mean at all you abort.’’ His voice was serious, you glanced at Dustin knowing you had to do what you could to protect him, that if anything happened to him Steve would never forgive himself.

You hear snapping breaking you out of your thoughts, Steve looked at you, ‘’You hear me Y/N? No hero shit.’’ He emphasizes.

You walk closer to Steve staring him straight in the eye, ‘’Now do we look like heros to you?’’ You ask him to gesture to Dustin then Eddie.

‘’We are not heroes,’’ Eddie emphasized behind you, laughing.

You reach forward laying a hand on Steve's shoulder, ‘’Don’t worry Steve, you can be the hero.’’ You tell him. He gave a sort of half hearted grin but he still looked nervous as Hell.

His eyes lingered on your for a moment before he pulled away your hand dropping back to your side. Just as he turned around Eddie stepped out from behind you, ‘’Hey Steve?’’ He calls out. Steve turns around to look at him, ‘’Make him pay.’’

Steve nods, turning back around taking off with Nancy and Robin. ‘’We should go,’’ You tell both Eddie and Dustin. You all began walking off in the opposite direction, a few seconds had passed and you glanced back to look at Steve for more time, he had happened to be looking too. You shift your weapon on your back, turn around and walk backwards, you look at Steve and give him a salute from afar but it was too far for you to see his response back.

‘’Humor me Y/N,’’ Eddie tells you. ‘’How long have you been pining over Harrington?’’ He asks.

‘’What?’’ You ask him to turn around, noticing both Eddie and Dustin with an amused smile on their faces.

‘’At least since last year,’’ Dustin chimes in.

‘’Dustin!’’ You yell at him. ‘’You don’t know that!’’ You tell him.

‘’Do you not remember when you were on drugs last year?’’ He asks you to refer to the Russian Base underneath the mall. You had worked there with Steve and Robin last year and got wrapped into everything.

‘’Drugs?’’ Eddie says amused. ‘’You don’t take me for that kind of girl.’’ He smirks.

‘’I’m not!’’ You glare at Dustin, ‘’He left out key information, which was that I was unknowingly drugged by Russian Soldiers!’’ You say and Eddie's face looked bewildered.

‘’What?’’ Eddie says his voice seemed confused and amused at the same time.

‘’She totally confessed to being in love with Steve last year when she was on drugs,’’ He tells you.

‘’Why have you never told me this?’’ You ask him.

Dustin Shrugs his shoulders, ‘’Never came up,’’ He says simply.

You sigh and Eddie laughs, ‘’Is it really that obvious?’’ You ask tilting your head.

‘’Kind of I mean you practically lost it when he got pulled in the water,’’ He says. ‘’Why haven’t you said anything to him?’’

‘’Just never the right time, last year after the mall was just too much. And finally when things were calming down this happens.’’ You admit. ‘’And now Nancy is back and Steve has a soft spot when it comes to her, and I don’t know if I want to compete with Nancy.’’

‘’She was his first love,’’ Dustin chimes in.

‘’Thanks,’’ You pause. ‘’For that reminder Dustin,’’ He holds his hands up in defense.

‘’You should tell him,’’ Eddie says.

‘’If we make it out of here I just might,’’ You admit to him seeing the RV in the distance. ‘’Emphasis on the if,’’ You felt the nerves in your stomach getting worse by the minute and it was only going to get worse from here.

‘’Promise?’’ He says.

‘’What?’’

‘’Promise you’ll say something,’’ He says.

You look at him amused that he cared so much, ‘’Promise,’’ You say scrunching your eyebrows not questioning him as to why he cared.

When you got to the RV everything had seemed to speed up, you were waiting for the phase three signal from Robin. Dustin was supposed to tell you when Eddie was and Dustin were on top of the RV getting the Amp set up to broadcast the sound, you were down on the ground putting up more metal to help shield you when the bats came. Plus eventually you’d end up here anyway, that was the plan when the bats got closed you all were to use the RV as a way to shield yourself knowing they would come after you.

You hear Dustin from up above you, ‘’Copy, Initiating Phase three!’’ Dustin yells. Only a moment later you heard Eddie beginning to shred on the guitar, as the song went on you felt your heart practically pouding out of your chest. A flash of red lightning is what caught your attention seeing the silhouette of the bats getting closer.

‘’Dustin!’’ You yell, you could see him glance down at you from the top. You point with your finger at the bats showing him your plan was working, he looked through the binoculars and yelled to Eddie. You ran back to the inside of the cage surrounding the van your hand against the metal ready to close it when they finally came down. And the thirty seconds quickly turned into ten and Dustin and Eddie came barreling in as you slammed the cage shut just as the bats hit causing you to jump. ‘’Inside! Inside!’’ You scream at them following behind as they ran in the RV slamming the door shut.

You were all panting, your hands rested on your knees as you were bent over trying to catch your breath, ‘’Dude!’’ Dustin calls out gaining your attention, ‘’Most metal ever!’’ He says and Eddie and him begin jumping upside down, you look at them both laughing.

‘’That was pretty amazing Eddie,’’ You tell him.

‘’Best concert I’ll ever go to,’’ He laughs as you tell him. Dustin and Eddie look to one another and begin yelling, jumping up and down shaking the van even more than it already was from the bats outside.

It didn’t take long after that for you all to figure out you were surrounded, the screeching was getting louder meaning more and more were around you. They were banging up against the metal, all three of you stood back to back with your weapon in your hand as you all just waited for them to break through.

That was when it got quiet.

‘’Hey dipshits!’’ Dustin screams.

You took a deep breath as he yelled, ‘’Dustin!’’ You whispered.

‘’Give up that easy huh?’’ Dustin screams even lounder.

Both you and Eddie shush him, ‘’Is that really necessary?’’ Eddie asks.

The clattering from above you stopped any conversation. You looked up hearing the metal above you being scraped, ‘’Eddie they can’t get in right?’’ You ask him warily, all of you followed the sound above ending up under a vent. ‘’Eddie?’’ You ask him after no response

You screamed when the bats broke through the vent, the panic rising in your chest. You lifted your weapon moving in close with Dustin taking turns stabbing the bats trying to get in. “Die! Die, Die!” Dustin screams everytime he stabs them.

“Eddie!” You yell. “Eddie help!” You yell in a panic.

A second later you feel Eddie pushing you back slightly, “Get out of the way! Get out of the way!” He yells the shield he made earlier in his hand. He runs directly at the vent slamming it over top of him stopping the bats. Dustin falls back leaning against something a deep breath falls from his lips.

“Holy shit, Holy shit,” Eddie keeps repeating.

You felt yourself relax but it was only for a short moment, until Dustin spoke. “Are there other vents?”

The look on Eddie’s face told you there was, “shit, shit, shit!” He kept muttering. Everyone moves with him running to the back of the RV where Eddie’s bedroom was and as soon as he swung the door open the bats came flying toward you ready to attack. “Shit!” He screams along with you and Dustin pushing you both back behind the door slamming it shut. Immediately after he shut the door the wood began to break, you knew it wouldn’t hold long.

‘’Shit, shit, shit,’’ You mutter, also hearing similar words from both Dustin and Eddie. ‘’What do we do?’’ You yell over the bats pounding into the door, ‘’That’s not gonna hold long!’’ You yell at them.

‘’Let’s go! Let’s go!’’ Eddie screams.

You turn to Dusin who already had his hands on the sheets, you help him by holding his foot in your hand giving him something to push off as he climbs through the gate. ‘’Eddie, go!’’ You yell at him as Dustin goes through the gate.

You were the oldest making sure everyone got through before you was important, ‘’You first!’’ He tells you.

‘’Eddie, go!’’ You yell trying to plead with him.

‘’We don’t have time to argue go!’’ He yells at you holding his hand out for your foot. He was right there was no time to argue the door was breaking further by the second. You lift your leg putting your foot in his hand and he helps give you a push up at you grab onto the sheet pulling up as fast as you could. You landed on your back, Dustin held his hand out pulling you up so Eddie had a place to land.

You finally got to your feet looking down at the gate seeing Eddie starting to climb, he was about halfway up when he paused. ‘’Eddie! Come on!’’ You scream down at him, Dustin doing the same next to you. ‘’Come on!’’ You yell at him.

Eddie seemed to have some sort of realization on his face as he looked up at both you and Dusitn. ‘’Eddie climb!’’ You yell at him. You got down on your knees peering down at him as he glanced back at the door.

Eddie let go of the sheet a moment later and you and Dustin screamed, ‘’Eddie what the Hell?’’ You yell down at him. He picked up his spear and cut the sheet and it dropped into Dustin's hand.‘’Eddie! No! What are you doing?’’

He picked up the mattress and began flipping it out of the way, no doubt so you and Dustin couldn’t follow in pursuit. ‘’No! No! Eddie!’’ Dustin was screaming next to you.

‘’What are you doing Eddie?’’

‘’I’m buying more time,’’ Is all he says. Grabbing his shield and the spear, he ran off after that.

You watched Dustin next to you with his hands on his head in distress, ‘’Oh god,’’ He says to himself.

You looked around panicked and unsure of what to do, you couldn’t let Eddie go alone. Think, think, think. ‘’Dustin, I am going to get him and bring his ass back here.’’ You tell him. You grab the chair laying a few feet away, putting it just under the gate.

‘’Y/N let me go!’’ Dustin yells at you as you brace yourself for a run. You were a few feet down the hallway you knew a running start would help you.

‘’No,’’ You tell him sternly. ‘’You stay here, do not follow me Dustin, and when you can radio Steve.’’ You instruct him. You took a deep breath ignoring the rest of Dustin's pleads to get you to stay and him to go.

You took off running and as soon as your feet got to the chair you jumped, you went through the gate and landed on your arm. You screamed in pain when you landed, ‘’Y/N? Y/N? What happened?’’ You can hear Dustin yelling.

When you finally got over the immediate wave of pain you pushed yourself up with your opposite hand looking down you could see your hand was visible disformed at the wrist, you had broken it. ‘’I’m fine Dustin,’’ You call up to him though your voice says otherwise. ‘’Radio Steve when you can!’’ You tell him through your tears, the pain was terrible, but you had no time to wait around Eddie was in trouble.

After that you walked out of the RV, Eddie couldn’t be too far ahead from you. You looked around the area when you got outside noticing the bike was missing that had been there previously. ‘’Dammit,’’ You mutter to yourself. You heard a loud noise come from inside the RV one similar to when you had come down. When you peered in the door you saw Dustin laying on the ground his face grimaced in pain as he held his leg.

‘’Dustin!’’ You yell running toward him. ‘’I told you to stay!’’ He must’ve landed on it. ‘’Are you okay?’’ You ask him.

‘’I landed on it.’’ He tells you through the tears in his eyes.

‘’Can you walk?’’

He nods his head, you reach down grabbing his hand with your good arm helping him off the floor but he puts no pressure on his leg. ‘’Go ahead without me,’’ He tells you. You reach over grabbing what looked like a broom handing it to him so he could use it to help walk.

You didn’t wait another second; you practically ran out the door glancing around for the bats in the sky. The red lightning illuminated the bats and you saw they were swarming in a circle which couldn’t be good at all. You looked back Dustin was only a few feet behind you hobbling toward you, you quickened your pace running over toward the bats not giving yourself long enough to debate if it was a good or bad idea.

When you finally got there all of the bats had dropped from the sky as if some invisible force had killed them. You saw Eddie laying on the floor, all the bats surrounded him. You ran as fast as you could landing on your knees in front of him. The blood was coming from his mouth, you knew that was not a good sign.

‘’Eddie? Eddie?’’ You say taking your good hand touching his cheek, tapping it lightly, ‘’Hey come on you need to look at me,’’ You forced a smile at him with the tears forming in your eyes at his state. ‘’You’re okay, you’re okay.’’ You kept repeating.

A moment later Dustin dropped onto his hands carefully getting on the ground with you, he pulled Eddie’s head so it was resting on his leg, ‘’Oh god Eddie,’’ He said examining him, there was blood all over him.

‘’Dustin,’’ You say still trying to hold back your tears but he just kept his eyes on Eddie, ‘’Dustin I am gonna try and find something maybe we can stop the bleeding,’’ You tell him. He doesn’t seem to pay attention so you raise off the ground and start running back toward the RV once again, the sheet in there that could stop the bleeding right?

You ran as fast as you could to the RV still cradling your arm to your chest, you finally made your way back running inside. The sheet was already on the floor so you quickly picked it up running back out of the RV toward Eddie and Dustin, that was when the ground began to shake. You felt the ground shaking and immediately tripped but caught yourself. The loud noise behind you caught your attention and you watched as the gate that was once inside the RV had broken out and it just kept expanding straight ahead, luckily it was opposite of where Dustin was.

The ground shaking was making it hard to walk but you got back to Dustin as fast as you could, you noticed when he came into view that he stood above where Eddie had previously laid on his leg, Eddie laid on the ground shaking with the earth but he wasn’t moving. ‘’Dustin?’’ You yell out at him gaining his attention. When you got close enough you noticed the tears were streaming down his face, ‘’He didn’t-?’’ You couldn’t finish the sentence.

He shook his head before you could finish anyway, ‘’What do we do?’’ He asked and you could clearly hear how emotional he was.

‘’I don’t know-’’ You say glancing around, ‘’I don’t know!’’ You say. ‘’Did you radio Steve? We need to call Steve - Nancy, Nancy will know what to do.’’ You tell him feeling distressed.

‘’I did,’’ He tells you. ‘’No response, from him or anyone else.’’ He tells you.

And it seemed like someone, somewhere was looking out for you and Dustin because only a moment later you heard a voice sounding just a stressed as you felt coming through.

“Y/N! Dustin?” You hear coming from the radio, it was the sweetest sound you had ever heard.

____________

‘’Y/N!’’ You hear your mom call from downstairs, ‘’Phone!’’

‘’Busy,’’ You yell, staring up at the ceiling, not busy at all in fact.

You hear footsteps coming up the stairs and you pull yourself up from the bed resting on your elbows anticipating her opening the door. She swings the door open a moment later, ‘’It’s Steve,’’ She pauses, ‘’Again.’’ You sigh. ‘’He really wants to talk to you honey, he’s probably just worried.’’

‘’Are you going to work?’’ You ask, noticing her scrub uniform.

‘’Yep, lots of shortages. Lots of people packed up and left, I don’t blame them if we had the money we would too.’’ She tells you. ‘’Do you need anything before I leave? Need any more medicine for your arm?’’ She asks and you glance down at the cast.

‘’I’m good,’’ You tell her. ‘’Love you,’’ You tell her before she leaves. Your mom worked as a nurse at the hospital when you finally got out of the upside down you went straight to her and she was pretty much able to help you get in to get your arm that same night although your injuries were nothing compared to some peoples.

A few hours later you were down in the kitchen making a frozen pizza, a little bit after the pizza went in the doorbell rang. You began walking toward the front door when the person decided to knock persistently, ‘’I’m coming!’’ You yell, shaking your head slightly annoyed.

When you pulled the door open Steve Harrington stood in front of you hands in his pockets. You looked at him in shock for a moment which gave him the perfect opportunity to slip in the house, ‘’Can I come in?’’ He asks, already walking through the door.

‘’Sure come on in,’’ You say sarcastically, shutting the door behind you. ‘’What are you doing here?’’ You ask him.

He puts one hand on his hip resting it there, ‘’Well you don’t return calls and it’s been three days.’’ He tells you. ‘’Why are you ignoring me?’’ He asks.

You sigh, ‘’I just needed some time to myself…a lot,’’ You say your eyes are focusing on a single spot on the floor, ‘’A lot happened.’’ You tell him.

‘’I know it did,’’ He says, stepping forward. ‘’Are you okay?’’ He asks.

You shrug your shoulders, ‘’I mean yeah,’’ You tell him but you can tell in your voice that you were about to break.

‘’Hey,’’ Steve says gently, pulling you into a hug, your hands wrapped around his torso as he rests his head on top of yours. ‘’You’re okay now,’’ He tells you.

‘’We just left him Steve,’’ You sob.

You could feel him pull you in closer if that was possible, ‘’We had to get out, and there was no way we could carry him out.’’ He says rubbing comforting circles on your back with his hand.

‘’His uncle-He-He is putting up missing flyers for him.’’ You try to get out your crying not letting you get out a sentence without having to take a deep breath. ‘’My mom she told me they’re all over the hospital.’’

Steve pulls back from you, ‘’Come on,’’ He says walking you to the couch sitting down with you, he still had his arm around you and you curled your body up so it rested on him. ‘’We did what we could, what we had to do.’’ He tries to tell you. ‘’And that doesn’t make what happened any easier but we have to think about what could've happened had we not gotten out when we did. Someone else could’ve been hurt, then what would we have done?’’ He asks you.

‘’It just feels wrong,’’ You tell him. You push yourself up looking at him, ‘’How is Dustin?’’ You ask, realizing you hadn’t talked to him since you got home.

‘’He’s rough,’’ He admits. ‘’But managing.’’

You didn’t say anything after that, you just both sat in silence. An hour or so later your head was in his lap and he was tracing circles on your shoulder as you stared up at the ceiling. ‘’Thanks for coming over,’’ You tell him.

He looks down at you, ‘’This is the only way I could talk to you,’’ He says and you smile sheepishly at him.

‘’Steve?’’ You ask. He hums in response, ‘’I don’t know what happened with you and Nancy and I made a promise I would do this, and I really want to keep it.’’ You start to ramble and Steve looks at you intently. ‘’And I'm just gonna come out and say it instead of beating around the bush-’’ You continue.

‘’Y/N,’’ Steve interrupted you, ‘’Just say it.’’

‘’I’m in love with you, and not in the way best friends love each other.’’ You say watching his eyes widen a bit looking at you as if he was shocked. ‘’And I have been for a while..’’ You pause, not really sure how he was feeling.

‘’You are?’’ He asks. ‘’Since when?’’ He asks.

‘’Since last year,’’ You tell him, ‘’When you got the job at scoops and I was training you I had a crush and we’ve hung out a lot more since and yeah,’’ You explain to him. ‘’And I just-,’’ You pause feeling emotional from the confession. ‘’I just had to tell you, I promised Eddie I would.’’

He glanced up when you mentioned Eddie his facial expressions looked shocked like he didn’t know what to say. “I just had to tell you and if you don’t feel the same-“ You began to say but your were cut short when you felt his hand come up to your cheek he was staring at you not saying a word.

“Steve?” You say breathless from his touch.

He doesn’t say anything instead he leans in his lips touching yours. He was slow with it and delicate, his hand gently resting on your cheek. “I never wanted to ruin anything,” He says when he pulls away. “Last year I realized I felt the same, and then now when we were upside down all I could think was is Y/N safe? That's when I knew.”

He paused for a moment, “And then I heard Dustin on the radio and he was begging us to come and I felt like I couldn’t breathe because he was so vague I thought something happened to you,” He tells you.

You reach your hand up putting it over the one that was on your cheek, “And then I saw you and your hand,” He glances down to the cast.

“I was fine,” You say, offering him a smile, “I was just waiting for you,” You admit. “You always keep me waiting, Harrington,” He smiles.

He leans in kissing you again, “No more waiting around, I’m right here.” He tells you.

______

Thanks for reading! apologies for any mistakes i’m on my phone writing! Let me know how you liked it!

I have like 5 other fics im working on rn so just wanted to post something but Request are open still!

#steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x eddie munson #platonic eddie munson #eddie munson #dustin henderson #steve harrington x yn #stranger things x you

[chronic-ghost]

Chapter 5 of Recovery Road

chapter rating: E (18+)

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 7483

chapter summary: Chloe comes home to him, just in time to face you again at the movie’s wrap party. But it seems nothing can stop the inevitable.  

chapter warnings/tags: SMUT (finally), officially infidelity, cheating, accusations of drug use, insecurity

a/n: this is what I imagined Dieter and reader wearing to the party.

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For the first time in a very, very, very long time, one of Dieter’s projects ends on time and within budget. No psychopathic directors, no nitpicking changes to the script, no reshoots because the studio had a stick up its ass.

And – he can proudly say – no trouble-filled, cocaine-fueled hysterical breakdowns from the talent. He’s on the other side, uncomfortable with the silence– the peace – and waits for the other shoe to drop. It never comes. Scott even gives him a specific call out on the last day of shooting for being (and this is a direct quote) “a upstanding leader and insightful character actor, whose commitment to the craft ensured the success of this film.” 

Scott also gave you a glowing review as well, but whatever. 

On top of all that, Chloe comes home two days later. 

She smells like sharp, warm spices, he remembers when he buries his nose in her hair. She walks through the door and she’s in his arms, close to his chest, against that burning knot he can’t seem to shake. He carries her – her suitcases still by the front door – all the way up to their bedroom and, delicately at first, proceeds to ravage her. This body is familiar, he thinks, as he doesn’t even take off her underwear before thrusting his fingers inside of her. He watches her eyes roll back with deep, deep satisfaction and he closes his eyes, committing the sound of her cries to memory, if they weren’t already there. He needed them to paper the inside walls of his brain so he could pluck them down whenever he wanted. His brain needed a renovation. 

“Dieter, slow down, baby,” she mewls, pushing on his shoulder only to tighten her grip on him, twisting his shirt. He wants to beg her to do that to his hair. “I still smell like airport. Lemme take a shower first.”

To prove her wrong, he yanks off her underwear – a little lace thing that he wants to put in his pocket – and dives, tongue-first, in between her legs. He moans as her talons latch onto the crown of his head and he laps at her clit. 

“I don’t give a shit, baby. You taste so fucking good. I need you.” 

And he did. Despite where his fingers and his tongue and eventually his cock went, she made him whole. She smoothed out his rough edges, stroking down this frantic energy he had been carrying for days like wired hair on the back of his neck. He poured so much of him into her that when he came inside of her, this immeasurable weight was gone. 

“What the fuck was that, Dieter?” Chloe pants when they were done. They are both dripping in sweat, skin blisteringly hot, and gasping for painful breaths. “I’m not complaining exactly, but my God, where did that come from?”

He looks up at her, his head on her chest. She’s absently playing with his sweat-streaked hair so he thinks she might not be really mad. He shrugs, his heart still pounding as if it were inside of a drum, and presses a kiss on her shoulder.

“I just fucking missed you.” 

“Yeah, I got that . . .” 

He feels like he loves too strong sometimes. Too much. He squeezes his eyes shut in shame. 

“Did I hurt you? I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“Honestly, Dee, just a little. I just got a seven hour flight and you come in like a horny tornado–,”

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to – I just –,”

“Dieter, stop. It’s fine.” She kisses him and his anxiety falters.

“Let me make you dinner, while you take a shower. I’ll rub your feet later, if you want.”

She laughs and he feels things shift, return to normal. “Okay, baby, okay. And, you know, I missed you too.”

He shifts onto his elbows, trapping her below him before she can shimmy off the bed. Her eyes are bright and she’s smiling at him. 

Why would I risk this? Why would I risk her for you?

She strokes a damp curl behind his ear. “What? What are you so smile-y about?”

“You mean the world to me, you know that, right?” He kisses her gently, quickly because there’s more he has to say. “I don’t know who I am without you. I want to be the person you want me to be.”

“Dieter–,”

“I’m serious.” He swallows, shaking his head, suddenly fearful of what he almost lost. “I can’t do any of this without you.” 

It’s late evening and the shadows are long and he thinks he sees one pass over her face for a moment, but then she’s smiling again. 

“Of course, baby. I love you too.”

   The following morning, an invitation for a cast-and-crew screening of the film at Scott Manley’s home comes through the mail. It’s on nice cardstock and everything. With the press circuit coming soon that would take them on the road for weeks, Dieter is inclined to throw the damn thing in the garbage. But Chloe insists. 

“Oh, c’mon, Dieter, don’t be like that,” she says as she rifles through the mail while they wait for coffee to finish brewing. “I wanna meet your co-stars. And from what you’ve said about the director, I think it’ll be lots of fun.”

He crowds behind her with one hand on the island, the other wrapping around her waist, his pinkie digging beneath the fantastic green leggings she’s got on. 

“I can think of something that would be even more fun.” He noses the back of her ear. 

“Dieter, stop. You know I don’t like sex before yoga.”

The coffee pot beeps and she slides out of his arms. 

“Wait, yoga? Now? It’s eight in the morning.”

“I go every Tuesday with Marlene. This isn’t anything new.” She pours in MUD and the smell reminds him of fertilizer. 

He swallows. “But you just got back. I thought we could spend the day together. There’s a new art exhibit that I thought you’d like to –,”

“Dieter, I’ve just spent three months deeply entrenched in the art world.” She glances at him as she pours the sludge-y mix into a travel mug. “I think I’d rather do literally anything else.”

“Okay, then you pick. We can do whatever you want, but I’d–,”

She puts a hand on his chest and kisses his cheek. “We’ll talk when I get back. And we’re going to that party, okay? It’ll be good for us.”

He nods vaguely as she picks up her keys, yoga mat, and coffee and heads out the door without another word. 

Us. Okay. That’s good news. 

Thirty minutes later, he’s out running Griffith park until his knees buckled, sweat soaking the front and back of his shirt, and he’s overworked himself so much he thinks he might puke. 

God, he fucking hates running. 

She does come back, as promised, and they go see a movie. It’s dark and he holds her hand. 

He gets her door for her before the valet can, but his eyes are scanning the grounds, unsure what he’s looking for, but highly aware of an encroaching something. Maybe it was the storm above. If there was any luck, Scott planned for the viewing to be outside and with bad weather, he’ll have to cancel the whole thing. Frowning darkly, he takes Chloe by the hand, tossing the keys to the Jaguar to the boy in a red vest, and starts up the steps of the Tudor-style home two at a time. 

Fuck, he forgot he hates this shirt. The orange color is all wrong and the collar always itches the skin on his neck and–

“Dieter, honey, slow down!” Chloe demands. He freezes and she’s still two steps down, trying to balance up the stairs in heels and a chiffon, plated dress. “You’re running like something’s on fire.”

Immediately, he relents. He helps her up the stairs and rubs her elbow. 

“Sorry, sorry, I think I’m just nervous.”

“Oh, sweetie, why?” She tucks up a fly-away curl across his forehead and he kisses her knuckles, still frowning. “You used to love these.”

Above the slate-gray sky grumbles and the wind rushes the trees surrounding the property. 

“I dunno. I just feel like there’s going to be too much . . .”

He trails off and swallows. There’s not enough words to manifest exactly what he’s so afraid of.

“There’ll be too much temptation, right?” 

His eyes snap to hers. 

She’s frowning sympathetically. “There’s all kinds of alcohol at things like this. And God knows what other shit people are bringing. It brings back bad memories, right?”

It feels like he’s choking. He can only nod. 

“I know, baby. But you’ll get through this. You got through that party at that hotel, right? We’ll just do it again.”

He suddenly wishes she isn’t touching him, isn’t so close with her hand on his cheek. She kisses him on the lips but he doesn’t react. 

“C’mon. We won’t even go near the drinks.” 

He lets her pull him up the stairs. He catches one more glance at the rolling sky. He doesn’t like the tense smell of ozone that’s building. There is too much electricity in the air.

There is a brief moment of reprieve when he sees the inside of Scott’s home for the first time. The tall, cream walls hover in fixed arches over the doorways. The wainscotting is crisp, fine, matching the black edgings and black and white tiled floors in all but color. The furniture and tables are held up by beautiful copper pipes, made soft by wood accents in the knick-knacks and artwork. Splashes of green plants highlight the corners and shadows. The windows are wide and striking, coaxing in every thread of light. The house opens to a long foyer that disappears into the bowels of the house, with a thick stack of white stairs on the right that shrink up to another level. To the immediate left is an immaculate black-and-cream dining set of tables and chairs, and further down the hall, faint music and laughter creeps over the dark hardwood floor.

This is the house of a real, big-time, actual adult. Not exactly his first impression of Scott Manley. 

“Dieter, you were so mean when you talked about this man,” Chloe hisses as she shuts the door behind them. “This place is gorgeous. There’s no Star Wars anywhere. Does his wife work?”

Dieter shrugs, awestruck. He cranes his neck up to try and see where the second floor disappeared to. 

“I have no idea. I never even heard him mention his wife.” 

“He must be a pretty successful director to have a place like this in LA.”

“We’re on the outskirts, sweetheart, don’t sound so impressed.” 

Chloe opens her mouth to respond, when someone down the hall calls his name. “Dieter!”

It’s Scott. Dressed exactly like he did during the entirety of production, with the exception of a black blazer. That is new. He’s a bit pink-faced and there’s a glass of something amber in his hand. He’s smiling and it makes Dieter weirdly uncomfortable. 

“So glad you could make it! These things always go over better when you’ve got your stars!”

He turns to Chloe, but Dieter jumps first. “Natalie’s here?”

Scott’s wet mouth opens and closes. “Erm, well, yes. Why wouldn’t she be?”

He forcefully unclenches his face. “Why does she do anything?” 

Chloe and Scott watch him with uncertainty for a moment, then Scott beams at her. 

“And you must be Mrs. Bravo!”

“Chloe works just fine,” she laughs sweetly and lets him take her hand. 

“I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but Dieter here talked about you so much I feel like I know you like a close friend.” 

He relaxes when her hand slides over his forearm. She stares up at him with her big eyes, her pink mouth grinning. She feels solid next to him, more solid than he is. 

“Did he now?”

So what if you are here? Chloe is here instead and she’s here to stay. He smirks at her and presses a kiss to the arc of her cheek.

“Of course, baby, all good things.” He glances at Scott again, who shifts back and forth on his feet, unflappably uncomfortable with displays of human affection. “Is Heidi here yet?”

“Oh, they didn’t tell you? She can’t come. Production on her other shoot got extended by three weeks.”

“Oh.”

It stings more than he thought it would. Her last email, because that has been the only way to get in touch with her lately, said she’d probably be able to make the wrap party.

“Well, if you’d like to see it,” Scott says, swaying on his feet, “the party is back here.”

And that’s how he enters the wrap party of his most successful project to date. With a beautiful woman at his side and a confidence that oozes. Scott leads them out to a square courtyard, with a single lemon tree in the center. There’s a relaxed beat playing from somewhere in the bushes. The night is cool and there’s a breeze. Everything’s glowing warm. People laugh and drink, peacefully. The waiters slide around offering canapes and champagne. In the garden beyond, there’s a screen and chairs. 

This is it. This is the moment he’s back. Back on top. Everything is right in the world. Everything is exactly as it’s supposed to be. He is where he is supposed to be. 

And then he sees you. 

And you’re still not wearing any fucking pants.

 “Dieter, honey, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

He blinks, his brain not connected to any part of his body. He feels hollow. Smooth on the inside. 

“Dieter. Dieter!”

Her nails dig into his chin as Chloe yanks his focus down to her. There’s something cloudy about the way she looks at him.

“Dieter, what are you looking at?” She doesn’t quite laugh but she tries.

“Nothing, baby, nothing.” He rubs his thumb over her shoulder. He can feel the tension in her neck. “It’s nothing. Just surprised to see this many people. It’s no big deal.”

She frowns, no longer committing to the charade. 

“I’ve never seen you make that face before. It was . . . I don’t know. It . . . scared me. I’ve never seen you look like that.” She repeats. 

He makes sure he’s not trembling when he runs his fingers from her shoulder down to her elbow. “Like I said, I’m nervous about being here, baby. It’s nothing.”

“That’s not–,”

“Dieter Bravo, as I fuckin’ live and breathe!” 

Mark Bronson in a crisp white shirt and black slacks climbs the stairs to the pavilion, his beard tinged with gray and braided down the center. He’s grinning when he yanks Dieter into a hug. He smells faintly like cheap vodka and cigars, but it’s not unpleasant.

A woman follows up behind him, with hair redder than the sunset and a matching red flush. The waitress, who’s name is . . .

“Molly, hey, how are you?” He leans forward and kisses her on the cheek. “It’s been too long.” 

“Hey, you said, you were gonna bring your wife to this,” Mark said, frowning with his hands on his hips. And then he takes Chloe’s hand and spins her. “Now, I know this beautiful creature cannot be your wife. She’s way outta your league...”

“Don’t I know it?” Dieter chuckles as Chloe laughs. Molly hands them both a drink as Mark bows in front of her. His is ice water. 

“Chloe Bravo, you are magnificent.”

“Chloe, this is Mark and his wife, Molly. Mark and I met a few years ago. I’ve only had the pleasure of meeting Molly once.”

Mark snorts as his wife winds her short arms around his long slender waist. “A few years ago? Dieter, it’s been a bit longer than that.” 

“Okay, well, who have you known longer? Me or Molly?” 

Chloe tucks her arms up into his chest and lays her head on his collarbone. He wraps his arms over her back. His grin teases Mark.

“Hey, man, what are you trying to do to me? Get me in trouble?”

“How long have you two been married?” Chloe asks sweetly. She smells like peach tea and, in his pants, his cock twitches. 

“Oh, ‘bout fifteen years.” Mark glances down to Molly. “Is that right, darling?”

“Fifteen this April.”

“Wow! So you must have been through it all. All the crazy celebrity gigs, right?”

Molly smiles and Mark kisses the top of her forehead. 

“Oh, yeah. All the press circuits, red carpets, premieres. I thought the worst was over and then Instagram came along.”

“The studio makes me have an account, darling, I’m helpless to stop them,” Mark laments pitifully and the rest laugh.

“Well, you might have to give this one here some pointers,” Dieter nods to Chloe in his arms, “she’s coming with us on the circuit for Recovery.” 

“What? No, I’m not.” Chloe lifts her head from his collarbone, her arms suddenly like weights against his chest. 

“What’d you mean? Of course you are. That was the plan.” 

“No, it wasn’t.” She pulls out of his grip and crosses her arms. “I told you months ago that my father has a gallery opening this month.”

“A gallery opening? The thing your dad always has going on?”

Chloe swallows as several on-lookers turn as his voice raises. “Dieter, let’s not do this right now.”

“We never talked about this. When did this happen? Were you going to say anything or just leave?” 

The crowd around them goes silent. She glances around, shame thinning her mouth. 

He doesn’t care. He’s not so much angry as he is . . . petrified. He was telling the truth earlier; he can’t do this without her. 

“Dieter, calm down, you’re making a scene.” 

“No! When were you going to tell me?” 

He’s not going to grab her – he’s not his father – but his stomach squeezes like a fist. His heartbeat is somewhere in his wrist and his head and his knees. The wind is suddenly too loud, the chatter is too loud. What is that smell? There are pennies in his mouth, rattling against his teeth. 

“Chloe, can’t you just do this one thing for me?”

“Jesus Christ,” she hisses suddenly with real malice, “everything I do is for you.” 

Her mouth snaps shut when she realizes just how many people were staring. 

The lightning is thick in the air, a spark running in circles against a tinder. 

“Oh, yeah? Then where the fuck have you been the last three months?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. And lower your voice.”

“Is this what it takes for you to have a conversation with me? For you to actually look at me for five fucking seconds? I can barely get you on the phone for more than a minute, if at all!”

“Dieter, you’re being irrational.” Chloe’s eyes are scorching, fierce. She’s threatening him. She’s going to use her most powerful weapon against him. He knows exactly what she’s going to say a second before it comes out of her mouth. “Are you using again?”

Inside of him something breaks. 

He can feel the bend, the crack, the bleed. It wavers in agony.

Whether or not she actually means it is beyond the point. Beyond the pale. He’s trying – he’s been trying – so hard – so fucking hard – and it doesn’t fucking matter to her. His weakest point is her party trick. 

It comes in a rushing wave, overtakes him, drowns him. This is how the spiral hurts. 

He shoves Mark aside, going back towards the house. Back into the heart of this living thing that’s trying to eat him alive. Behind him, he thinks he hears your laugh. High and loud. 

He comes to the first door he finds on the second floor and nearly kicks it open. 

It’s up to his eyes. He can’t see straight. There’s pain over his eyebrow, in his shoulder, his fingers. It concentrates in his chest – he unbuttons his collar all the way down – he’s shaking – he’s shaking so badly — 

Count down from ten, the nice lady at the rehab center told him. 

You’re having a panic attack, darling. Don’t worry. It’ll pass. Count down and focus on what you can see, hear, touch, taste, and smell. Ground yourself in the space.

10. 9. 8 – 

He gulps down air, hand on his chest to keep his heart from bursting out through his ribs.

7. 6. 5 –

It’s an office, he realizes, when the room stops spinning. The walls are dark, much darker than the rest of the house. This is where the moss has grown, away from the ivory. 

Here, there is no noise from the party. He can still taste copper in his mouth. It smells like tobacco and mint here.

4. 3. 2 — 

The settee is a dark teal and the short, squat lamps on the oak desk hum orange. Walnut brown bookcases line the walls. 

And there in the corner, behind the desk and leather-backed chair, is a cabinet. Low to the ground. With gold tumblers and a mirror on top. 

On shaky legs, he goes and opens the square doors. 

His mouth goes wet with wanting. 

Whisky.

Rum.

Vodka.

All of it. 

Just one. He needs only one. 

The bottle is cool, smooth. He takes out the corked lid and the aroma fogs up his brain like condensation on glass.

Are you using again?

No. But he could be. The door opens behind him.

“Dieter, what the hell are you doing in here?” 

Of course.

Of course, it was you. 

Maybe it always was. 

“What? Did your wife put you in time out?” You smirk when he doesn’t answer and you shut the door behind you. “Or was it Scott? The night’s still young, Dee, so many other things to fuck up and –,”

“Natalie.” His voice is rough. It rumbles out of his chest on his last breath. “Don’t. Please . . . just, don’t. Not tonight.” 

His hand shaking, he puts back the bottle of whisky. You narrow your eyes at him.

“Shit, what the hell happened to you? You look terrible.” You say, frowning as though confused, as if this is some convoluted plot to fuck with you. “I saw you run off and I thought, this would be a great time to remind him what a piece of shit he is . . . but you look like someone beat me to it.”

You stay firmly planted in front of the door, arms crossed, as he comes to the front of the desk and leans back against it. He feels cold sweat stick to his lower back.

“Seriously, Dieter, are you sick?” 

He shakes his head. His stomach always feels hollow after one of those episodes. “No, just a bad night.”

“Like bad crabs or found out your aunt died bad?”

“Natalie—,”

“Just tell me. What happened?”

He lifts his gaze to you. It’s hard to believe that less than a month ago, he felt like he could tell you anything. In that golden house on the hill. When you were different people. You look genuinely concerned.

“Dieter, I’m going to go get a doctor unless you—,”

“Look, I have these . . . episodes, alright? My head gets all foggy and I can’t stop shaking and I can’t breathe right. I just need some space.” He adds pointedly because the expression on your face has changed. 

“You get panic attacks?” You take a step forward, hand reaching forward before you let it drop, as if remembering you can’t touch. “I, uh, I know what that’s like. I . . . I have them too.”

“C’mon, don’t do that. Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not — I’m serious!” Your brow furrows as your eyes flash hotly with anger. “They started after I moved away from my mom. And now, I just . . . manage the symptoms.”

“Yeah, how?”

You give him a look and he frowns.

“You know what’s not good for panic attacks?” He playfully glances to the ceiling as he lists them off on his fingers. “Bennys. Cocaine. LSD. I could keep going.” 

You put your hands on your hips, scowling. “Fine but waiting to get fucked raw by life isn’t the way to handle it either.”  

He bites his cheek, crossing his arms across his chest. “So, then we’ll just wait it out and see who survives the longest. Then we’ll know who’s right.”

Another dare in your eyes. He meets the challenge. But this time, you swerve first.

You drop his gaze.

“It’s a coin flip, right? Only a matter of time . . . before we both fucking lose it.” 

He doesn’t like how that truth sits in the back of his mouth. As usual, you’ve rattled in him something he didn’t know was loose.

“So, then go for it.” He opens his arms wide. “Say whatever has been stewing away in your head for weeks now. I’m an easy target.”

Your mouth rolls, pouting like an eight year old. You narrow your eyes at him. “Nah, you’re too pathetic right now. When I tell you what’s been on my mind, I want you to burst into tears. It’s no fun if you’re already like this . . . what happened?”

It didn’t feel like pity coming from you, even if he knew you had been picturing his balls in a vice grip since filming wrapped. 

He sighs, and picks at the skin on his left thumb. 

“You’ll be thrilled to know I just made an ass of myself in front of half our colleagues and coworkers. And then my wife asked, very publicly, if I was using again . . . I feel like I can’t fucking win.”

“Well, you’re not, right? Using?” In those knee-high black suede heels, you stretch across the room and take the place next to him. Just like you had at the pool. You crossed your arms too. A concession— another white flag amongst the bitterness.

He shakes his head. 

“So then fuck that. And fuck her for doubting you. Why did she ask that?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I thought — hoped — she was coming on the press tour for Recovery.” He rolls his jaw from side to side. “I’m getting sick and tired of spending my nights in a hotel room by myself.”

He catches the corner of your eye and his neck warms. 

“Not like that . . . I mean, fuck, maybe a bit like that. I don’t know. I’m trying everything I can to keep this marriage alive and she just feels . . . ambivalent.” He swallows. “Last time, I gave her an out. After the arrest and before rehab. I told her I’d sign the divorce papers, whatever she wanted. She could have my money, my house, my car. I just didn’t want her to have to live with the embarrassment of being married to me. And, instead, she told me, ‘the money isn’t important to me’. I was so grateful at the time, I didn’t question it. But now . . . I sometimes wonder if this is how she punishes me. She didn’t want a divorce until she broke my heart first.”

You’re uncharacteristically silent. The white ruffles around your wrists flutter as you put your hands on the other side of your hips, fingertips drumming the desk. 

“Did you ever think maybe the problem isn’t you? Or her for that matter?”

“What do you mean?”

You sigh, an exasperated smile on your face. “Take a look at where we are, Dee. Normal people don’t live like this. Normal people don’t do what we do. No one else will take us so we congregate amongst ourselves to establish a new baseline of crazy.”

“And, what? Anyone who enters our orbit is doomed to be fucked in the head?”

“We’re all fucked in the head, Dieter. You. Me. Scott. Hell, even your pretty little wife out there.” You glance at him. “This whole place is a fucking breeding ground. A breeding ground for the worst parts of ourselves. It’s nasty and terrible but we don’t have to be nasty and terrible and alone. So, if she made you think that you’re the fucked one, that you’re the unlovable one, then . . . she’s wrong. She’s so fucking wrong.” 

Outside, thunder rumbles and the orange lamps flicker, casting shadows like heartbeats, but neither of you care. 

Your lips are a dark purple tonight, matched by mauve smears over your eyelids. You look . . . ethereal. 

He doesn’t know he’s falling, tipping forward into the plush cup of your mouth until he feels your breath rush against his lips. 

Purple, like bruises, he thinks as he watches your eyelids flutter shut. He wants to keep his open, to watch the moment your mouths finally connect, but you overwhelm him. He’s not strong enough to fight back anymore, to pretend like he doesn’t feel anything for you.And, oh, he does feel something. He feels it so strong— wants it so badly— it feels like a physical weight in his chest. 

He wants you. God, he wants this and he’s wanted it for so long. 

Just this one thing. This one thing. 

The throbbing of the broken thing inside of him is quiet. 

His hand winds up into your hair as he finally takes you by the neck and open-mouth kisses you. You shudder as if surprised, as if this wasn’t an inevitable conclusion. His other hand presses against your jaw to steady you, steady him. 

The kisses aren’t light. They don’t hesitate. They are wet, and they bite, and it’s a little bit of teeth and tongue and spit. He licks the corner of your mouth and your tongue batters into his. His tongue rides the valleys of your mouth tasting like sweet champagne. That talented, fucking legendary Dieter tongue —

Both of his hands grip you by your jaw as yours burrow into the fabric of his shirt just below his ribs. He pulls back slightly to nip your bottom lip and he tastes that familiar caustic burn of whiskey. The first sip of alcohol he’s had in years and he smears it off your wet mouth.

“Fuck, baby—,” Mouth still sealed to yours again, he slips his hands down your sides as he glides to his feet. The rings on his fingers make indentations in that maddening bare patch of thigh. He goes further and swipes his pinkies under the backs of your knees as he grips your thigh from underneath. “C’mere—,”

You bite his lip in retaliation when he swings you both into a clear spot of wall. The nearby paintings shudder in the resounding thud but, short of God stopping by, there’s nothing that would pry him off you now.

Now that he has those hips under his palms. He balances you on his thigh, the wall at your back, giving his hands and mouth the freedom to explore. He wants to kiss you so hard you vibrate through the wall. 

He can feel his lips swell from the force of your kissing. They sting and ache but fuck if it wasn’t a brand new vice he could torture himself over. He is so lost in the relief of it — this is what you taste like, what you smell like so close, this is what you sound like — this is what awaited him for days in New Mexico, if he had just taken it — that he leaves his waistband very open. 

His fingers around the sides of your neck, he nearly barks out when you slide your hand down to his crotch and stroke. The angle isn’t right to give you full access, but your half-lidded, blurry desert eyes are begging him for more. 

“Fuck me,” you gasp into his teeth. “Fuck me, Dieter, please. That’s all I want. Please, fuck me.”

He’s too taken by the wet patch, dragged up and down his thigh, to argue. You roll your hips, eyes never leaving his, and he groans, deep and anguished. 

Your cunt is already warm. 

He pulls away from you against the wall and nearly stumbles back to the desk. He doesn’t know exactly what he shoves to the floor but there is sound, perhaps glass breaking, before he lunges forward, snags you by the hand, and pulls you into his chest. The force of his tug draws you up into his arms, knees digging into his sides, his mouth again inches from yours. 

Broken open, he finally opens his mouth to the stream of filth that has been rotting his brain for months. 

“I want you on that desk. I’m gonna fuck you on it every way I want to and then when you’re so cock-drunk you can’t see straight, I’ll ask you how you want it. You want it on top?” He grabs the hinges of your thighs, and grinds his hips against the front seam of your shorts, right into your clit. You sway against him, eyes fluttering, mouth open. “Or will you let me fuck you from behind? So I can watch this perfect fucking ass bounce.” 

“Whatever — whichever way— you want,” you say breathlessly, your tongue thick, as you lean your weight forward and he stumbles back onto the desk. 

The desk groans when his back smacks against the wood, your tongue and teeth fighting back against his. You’re straddling him, knees on both sides of his slim hips, and you’re chasing that crackle, that spark in your crotch. You rub yourself against him and air is expelled from his nose.

“Ngh— Shit—,” he pulls back to look at you. Your hair is a knot spawned from pulling and jerking. The purple eyeshadow still glows in the dark but the lipstick — oh fuck — is smeared across your mouth as though you had tried to take it off with your forearm. Because he’s fucked up, his already hard cock twitches. 

Panting to let oxygen return to your brains, he takes his time trailing his hand down from the dip where your shoulder meets your neck, down to the first button of that ridiculous, flowy blouse. The vest seemed like an accessory and he was grateful he didn’t have to pick that apart too. You watch his deft fingers open the first button, and then the second, and the third, all the way down to the end. 

He groans when he waves back the curtain of fabric around your torso and exposes the soft curves of your tits. You are surprisingly still and annoyingly quiet as he drags a finger, featherlight over the rise of your lilac lace bra. He dips his finger across your other breast and sighs.

“Wanna take my time with you,” he slurs. His thighs flex and you bite your lip. “Wanna open you up, bit by bit, so I can just slide right into your pussy. Want it to soak my pants.”

“I want that too. I want that so much.” You lean forward, letting your warm cunt settle over where he’s rock solid. He moans against your lips and you grin. When you open your eyes, he’s glancing at the door. It’s unlocked. 

“Anybody could walk in at any second.” You don’t want to give him ideas as to who specifically could, lest he be overcome with stupid guilt. If you didn’t rail Dieter Bravo tonight, houses were going to be burnt down. “We’d better make this quick.” 

Quicker is better, he agrees as he slides you off him and begins unbuckling his belt. You undo your own shorts and somehow manage to wriggle them off your legs while still in those heels. He can see the dampness on your inner thigh and he works faster. 

He shucks his pants down just off his hips. Quicker is better, he agrees as he positions you back on the desk, those audacious black boots hugging his waist. 

Quicker is better, he thinks when he looks into your eyes, your hand cups the back of his neck and your back arches to give him better access. Your other hand is around his cock, as he balances one hand on your hip and the other flat on the desk. 

Quicker is better. 

Because those feelings you both share, those soft gentle feelings that want to make love and not just fuck — are wiped clean from existence when he slides into you. Your face crumples from the first stretch of pain, roasted with pleasure.

“Oh, goddamn it, Dieter. You’re so big.” 

“I know, baby, just— breathe.” He kneads your hip in his hand, huffing and struggling to fight firing back with his hips, and lets you adjust. He’s only got a bit more than the tip in and sweat cracks your brow line. 

You swallow and shift your hips forward. Your pussy swallows up more of him and you both groan.

“You’re doing so well, t-taking me like this. When I haven’t gotten you ready.” He kisses your jaw. Your skin is fire hot. You inch your hips closer to the edge of the desk. 

“C‘mon, baby, just a bit more.”

He pushes the last bit of the way, his pelvic bone pressed up against your clit, and you wail, your head dropping back. The front of his lap is soaking.

He smirks at you, a wildfire cooking every sensation, every thought, every autonomous function that wasn’t required for fucking clean out of his body. He puts a wide hand up to your cheek and kisses your skin between his knuckles. 

Your voice is breathless in his ears, and it gives him pause for a minute. Your cheeks are flushed, mouth puffy and kissed-out. You need a hickey on your neck, or several, he muses to himself. This thing he’s been holding onto since he walked onto the studio lot months ago is rusting, creaking, and for once, he doesn’t want to push it onto someone else. He doesn’t want you to have it because he knows you already do. His affection is corrosive sometimes, but you’re just alkaline; salty, burning, acrid. He wants to melt into you. His eyes half-lidded to watch your face, his hand cradling your head, he pulls out an inch only to thrust right back in. 

“You’re ruining my life, you know that?” 

Flint flashes in your eyes as you nearly snarl, your hair fisting into his hair and tightening. It makes his neck arch back and the moan gets caught in the back of his throat. 

“You wanted your life ruined. You’re just using me as an excuse.”

Hissing, his hold around the back of your neck roughens and he pulls you into his mouth. You’re met with teeth and tongue and a press of his hips that stretches you out completely. With your teeth around his bottom lip, you whimper just like you did on the couch and he can’t hold back any more. 

He starts fucking you in earnest. 

Every brutal stroke is rewarded with a high, sharp cry — he makes himself go deeper, the nails at his shoulder dig deeper into his skin, and it sparks pleasure down his back. 

His hand at your face slides down to your waist to hold you as his hips thrust and pump and scorch the inside of your pussy with his cock. He brushes something devastating inside of you and you naturally arch, naturally bend to take even more of him. 

“Oh, fuck, Dieter— Jesus Christ, Dieter—,”

“Keep talking, baby,” he huffs, “you’re grabbing me so tight I think I’m seeing spots.” He reaches between the open materials of your shirt to mold and shape and squeeze your breasts. His thumb brushes over your clothed nipple, and you hum. The thought of his mouth on them drags his eyes shut. 

He pounds you, he chases that pressure behind his eyes, in his gut, he wants you to always remember who you make these sounds for. You wail again and his cock pulsates. 

He ducks his head and catches your mouth as he lifts up. It’s sloppy and messy and neither of you can stay locked like that with the way your bodies wobble. He aims and drops a kiss on the corner of your mouth. The hand on his bicep trails up to the back of his neck and digs into his hair. You hold him close, and your foreheads naturally fall together. 

He jerks you closer, grinding into you instead of thrusting, just to watch you shake.

“Dieter, please—,”

“Hush, baby, I’m gonna take care of you. Such good care of you and this pussy. Squeezing me so tight. This pretty pussy needed someone to take care of her.” 

“You’re filthy.” 

“Yeah, and you like to listen to it.” He’ll keep running his mouth as long as it takes to clear out the mess in his heart, in his head. He’ll probably never apologize for what happened in New Mexico and neither will you. 

He mouths your ear before rocking back, building back up to his earlier pace, the sound of the wet slap of his hips into your thighs implanting itself into his memory. The desk where he dragged you shines and he half-wants to stop and lick the wood grain. He shudders at the idea your cunt would taste like your mouth – whiskey-soaked and salty. 

You’re drowning in the taste of his hot breath. Sweat grows on his spine and under your breasts. A look passed between you and him that can only be given when fucking wants to give way to something more — when there’s a crescendo of feeling building just by looking into someone’s eyes as they enter you again and again. It’s intoxicating. You feel drunk.

He kisses your mouth again briefly before arching up, moaning. His hips stutter — less focused, but harsh in their need. Your cunt flutters around him and he drives in that much faster, rougher. He can feel your skin break out in goose bumps under the palm of his hand.  

“G’ –n’ think I’m gonna come,” he grunts, his breathing uneven and ragged. His eyes are squeezed shut and he knows if he looks at you again, if you give him that look of naked vulnerability, he’s going to cream for at least ten minutes. 

You nod frantically, pleasure bobbing up from the pit of your stomach to your aching clit. Words are near impossible now.

“Put your thumb — there! Ah!”

He watches you almost recoil in the electric jolt you experience as he brushes your bundle of nerves with this thumb — anything harder would be too much —  the pace only slightly faster than the pounding of his hips.

“That’s it, Dieter, you’re so good– you feel so good.” His knees buckle at the praise, at the strain in your voice. 

“Tell me, baby, I need to hear it–,”

You lean closer to him, breath mixing with his, and you press up against where his fingers press into your clit. “You fill me up so well— I’m—I’m so full— of you. You’re so thick.”

He pinches you and in seconds, your cunt is smothering him.

“Ah — oh God — Dieter!”

You’re milking him and he clenches your thigh as you finally tumble over the edge with a shout. The instant his restraint to make sure you came first is lifted, he comes, coating your pussy and emptying his balls completely of his spend.

His shoulders slump, the aftershocks of his orgasm making his spine tingle.

He’s got his head buried in the curve of your neck, a pleasant hum everywhere in his body. Your cheek rests against his damp temple. 

He’s not going to think about his cum leaking out of you and staining what is presumably his director’s desk. 

You laugh, almost deliriously, fighting to catch your breath. His chest heaves as his lungs gasp for air. 

“Fuck. I mean– wow– fuck– I– wow.”

He grins at that. He kisses your collarbone.

“Now, what to do about the crowd outside the door . . .”

He glances at you, questioning. You huff, trying weakly to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, still struggling for a normal breath. 

“There’s no way every person in this house didn’t hear that. Fuck, I bet the audio is on YouTube already.”

He chuckles and finally has enough feeling in his legs to stand up straight. He noses your cheek.

“Look out the window.”

You do and are met with a torrential downpour. White lighting clashing, thunder roaring, rain slapping the glass. You hadn’t even noticed it started raining.

“No one heard a thing. And no one’s going to notice two people gone from a party of dozens of people.” He cups the back of your head and kisses you soundly. “They don’t know a fucking thing. We’re safe.”

You take his word for it and wrap your arms over his shoulders. You kiss him back.

You kiss him and kiss him and kiss him.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x reader #the bubble fanfic #the bubble fic #the bubble fanfiction #the bubble 2016 #dieter bravo/f!reader #dieter bravo/you #dieter bravo/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[olderthannetfic]

I mean i can try-- god knows I've wondered which fucking wires crossed in my brain many many times myself-- but i can't promise I'll come to anh interesting conclusions.

I honestly think I had some kind of predisposition to like vore because i can't remember a time where I started liking it, only realizing that I did, long long LONG before i had any concept of what that meant. For me, personally, the vore part is a big part but it all very much falls under the endosoma umbrella-- the general fascination with the inside of the body, and implied fascination with being inside the body of someone else.

I kinda think that stems at least to some degree from my craving for physical affection? Big big big on physical touch, me; and my mother joked that when I was a toddler I would burrow into a hug as if I were trying to crawl inside the person holding me. It tracks.

So I was all of 5 or whatever and already deeply clingy and showing the beginning signs of an anxiety disorder. And then I got to see the magic school bus for lunch fir the first time and Huh why are fireworks going off behind my eyes

Istg I watched that movie so much as I kid it was absurd. I couldn't explain why it stuck to me so much, I didn't have the vocabulary or the comprehension, I was just Fascinated. I would dream of different scenarios that could have changed the direction the movie went, I dove face first into researching the human digestive system because maybe that's what I was so curious about and i was homeschooled so it was as simple as asking my mom what they were talking about. My sister, rwo years younger than me, had started a 'game' around that time that was essentially stories around the campfire where one of us would come up with an idea and the other would continue it and we'd tell stories that way-- and we had I think three of those that were various characters from our favorite movies eating each other. We still didn't know what we were doing, of course; it was just hilarious to us. Very 'throw blorbo in a situation' behavior, especially because neither of us had any interest in the fatal aspect-- i can't really speak for her, but for me, it was always about being inside another person. Being cradled. Being contained. Being protected.

The budding anxiety disorder definitely had an effect, and only got stronger as ~shit happened~ and a budding anxiety disorder blossomed into c-ptsd 🙃 I spent most of my childhood feeling utterly and completely unsafe, insecure in the most fundamental ways. And the idea of being eaten and held and hidden appealed r e a l l y powerfully.

An interesting angle to pin on this is I'm some level of demisexual-- and vore wasn't a very kinky kink for me for a long long time. It's much more so now, now that I'm older and a bit more in touch with my own brand of sensuality/sexuality, but I would have considered it a platonic-to-sex-neutral kink by name only from about the time of the epiphany to around... eh. 20ish? Maybe as late as 21, 22 even. And even now it is Still much more about the feeling of protection, of safety, of being wanted and held and cradled and intimately known that appeals the most to me. If i want to get off to it I look up object vore fics and videos of people swallowing real-ass things, vasefillers and marbles and cameras, because I still very much have an Endosoma Thing and a fierce oral fixation. But Vore vore? That's mostly a self comforting thing. Not always. I can definitely be turned on by a good vore fic and I am frequently turned on by good vore videos because the visual of internals is Big for me, but its usually a sexless thing? Usually. There are exceptions.

If it's a character I'm already attracted to that's it I'm a goner and I would like them to hurry the fuck up and eat me already. I'm very strongly 'prey-oriented' and would much prefer to Be Eaten than to Eat-- but I could go either way, depending. I'll run into a bit of art of a character inside a cup of boba (totally not referencing something that happened the other day aha) that the artist clearly meant innocently and lose my shit on discord to the fistful of friends who know the intricacies of my crossed wires fjdjdkdk the vore fixation and the oral fixation absolutely 100% bounce off each other and make each other worse, I can tell you that much.

Does any of that answer your questions, fellow anon?

(I wish I could send asks from the sideblog, I genuinely wouldn't mind attaching at least that name to this in the name of research and answering questions-- it's science if you write it down, no? But my main is mostly sfw, alas.)

--

[billikatchoo]

ipbm test

i witnessed the shattering of our moon. although many will claim now to have experienced the moment, having in reality only seen the footage, on that day same as any few were looking to the sky before they heard the booms. and everyone heard the booms.

the last week of december is hard on everyone. holiday travel leaves far too much time to think, to contemplate the past year and its changes and what pain and pleasure will come with the next. this year i was happy to travel with my lover.

we flew to maryland this year. it was a fine xmas, snowless unfortunately but that’s to be expected in our warming climate. i was nervous about introducing her to my mother, and more so my sister, but the trip was uneventful. that is until we left.

we woke up late that morning, having wasted too much time the previous evening drinking wine and packing our bags and indulging in the intimacy we have been blessed to find in each other. snow in the north left us without concern, only a three hour delay. we chose to spend the time in our terminal; she thought it prudent, i saw anopportunity.

we spent all of two hours lounging on that ugly carpet, sharing one set of wired earbuds and one masterpiece of a conversation. the chaos of the previous week left us with little time for each other, all ofwhich was spent maintaining our affections and our respective body heats in the chill nights on the bay. i don’t admit it much, but my recollection of this day is dominated by those hours we spent with our backs against each other. how she braided my hair, how she laughed more than usual, how she seemed optimistic for our future together; i burned these moments into the folds of my brain like petroglyphs on canyon walls.

a few days previous was the full moon. a cold moon on the eve of xmas is a special occasion for everyone. we spent this rarity as anyone would, and consequently have little memory of it. we were amongst many who wished they had savored the moment. had we known that was our final evening basking in the full glory of her beauty, everything would have been different. that was one lesson we all have to learn the hard way: you will one day gaze upon the face of the one you love for the final time, and you will be blissfully unaware.

her beauty had already begun waning by the end of the week. she was however still largely visible on this crisp and clear winter’s day. my memory is vivid; i stood at the window wall by the gate watching planes take off and land and take off again as i waited for her to return with snacks i could care less about. the sunlight glared off of every surface; the brightness was overwhelming and i sought solace in the moon. it was in this moment it shattered.

it is trite by now to describe it as surreal, especially with every aspect of our reality becoming increasingly so with each revolution. in the moment, i was so certain i was daydreaming. it just broke apart. it cracked and scattered itself like a projectile egg. and that was the last humanity saw of her face.

moments later sonic booms, at first to be foolishly assumed by many to be the sound of this great calamity, were heard in every region of the country. this was quickly deduced by some to be no more than the sound of martial mobilization, a well documented impulse in this country.the details would later be unceremoniously revealed in the following months of news coverage.

my lover returned to me snacks in hand and confused, but not as confused as me. i was speechless, and it was all i could do to point at the sky. as vividly as i remember the moment of shattering, i can imagine seeing again the tears well up in her eyes and slowly rolling down her cheeks, void of any other expression. i relived that moment every hour of every day for the next year.

in the next few hours we learned that this was the result of the first test of the space force’s new ipbm, the inaugural interplanetary ballistic missile. the test proved successful only by the means they had expected to measure. in every other sense, it was an unprecedented failure. it answered all our questions about space bombs, but raised infinitely more about humanity’s history and place in the cosmos.

this was the day we learned that the moon, our moon, the very one we’ve worshiped and written poems about, the one our dogs howled to, the one that pulled the tides while glimmering the beauty of its light across the water, was in reality, at least our reality, a hollow megastructure put in place in the far distant past by beings more ancient and more advanced than we are genuinely capable of comprehending.

in the following days, people talked about nothing else. in the following months people began asking questions. in the following years, scientists began investigating. we were never given answers.

not real ones, not satisfying or even conclusive ones. we can only imagine the implications for our past and our future. in the present the effects of our hubris are self-evident. you didn’t need to be an oceanographer to see that the tides had lost their potency. the impacts on aquatic species are still being documented. the extent to which it exacerbated the extremes of each season will always be up for debate. it was clear that this was a new era for humanity.

a reminder of this day will exist forever in our sky. a broken moon fragmented and strewn across the firmament. a reminder of this day will exist forever in her face. i will relive it with every tear that falls upon it. and those memories will resurface with only positive feelings of the lovely day i spent with her.

#short story #science fiction #speculative fiction #sci fi

[atmilliways]

Dreams In Which I’m Dying (8)

part 8 of 16 | 756 words | Teen +

Donnie Darko AU | parts 1 & 2 | part 3 | parts 4 & 5 | parts 6 & 7 | part 9 | parts 10 & 11 | parts 12 & 13 | part 14 | parts 15 & 16 (complete)

Summary:

Eddie Munson has lost control of his life. He just hot-wired an RV and called Steve Harrington big boy, and he genuinely can’t decide which one is freaking him out more. 

8 - Lost control of his life

Eddie Munson has lost control of his life. He just hot-wired an RV and called Steve Harrington big boy, and he genuinely can’t decide which one is freaking him out more. 

On top of that, someone had seen Chrissy and him both going into the woods on Friday and told Jason Carver, the police’s main suspect. He's escaped custody and is on the hunt for Eddie, out for blood on suspicion of witchcraft. He heard this over the phone from Officer Callahan, a man who Eddie once watched handcuff himself to his own car by accident. It's the cherry on top of an increasingly terrible Spring Break.

Despite all that, his mind keeps drifting back to Steve. 

They stay in the RV while everyone else shops at the War Zone, Steve because of his Demobat injuries and Eddie because he's laying low. It’s as good a time as any to replace the makeshift bandages from the night before.

“Ow,” Steve complains as Eddie runs an iodine-soaked cotton ball from the First Aid kit over the worst of the bites.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles, and does it again. 

Steve grunts as it makes contact. “S’fine. Thanks for not letting that one pop my head off like a grape.”

“You dropping the nailbat where I could reach it helped.”

“It usually does. I mean it, though.”

“I know.” He ventures a glance up from what he’s doing and finds himself meeting droopy hazel eyes dead on. That feeling of Steve trying to puzzle him out comes back full force, so Eddie tries to deflect. “Don’t detract from your hero status by sharing the glory on my account, big boy.”

Oh fuck, he’d done it again. He hadn’t meant to, it had just slipped out—

But Steve is blushing. Actually blushing. Eddie feels giddy; he’d made Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington blush!

“We make a good team,” Steve says, glancing away and moving his arms in a way that draws Eddie’s attention to his bare pecs. (Though really, what movement wouldn’t? Eddie would want to bite them if he hadn’t already been chewed on enough today.) “As long as you don’t mind hanging out with a non-nerd who doesn’t know who Ozzy is.”

“You can learn,” Eddie replies, and resists the impulse to swallow his own tongue. 

Steve laughs and shakes his head. “Man, you’re weird.” 

Reddening, Eddie flicks the cotton ball to the floor and reaches for the roll of gauze. “Sorry,” he mumbles. 

“No, I meant it as a compliment.” 

“Since when?” It flies out without Eddie even thinking, and he wants to swallow his tongue again. Because King Steve is nothing like he expected, nothing like he appears from a distance. Up close he’s . . . a good dude, which flies in the face of everything Eddie’s come to expect from the rich, popular, and jock crowds.  

“Since, uh, about three years ago this November?” Steve replies sheepishly. “I mean, things like this start happening—” he gestures to the divots gnawed into his flesh “—and it changes what weird means real fucking quick. Dustin’s weird, but he’s been super important to figuring things out every time. Robin’s weird, but she’s my best friend, we practically share a brain. And she’s taught me a lot about . . . other stuff I thought was weird, but turned out not so much once I actually thought about it.”

There’s something cautious yet intent in Steve’s eyes, in the tilt of his mouth while Eddie finishes wrapping and securing the gauze. Eddie chews on one side of his bottom lip, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the guy’s eyes on him. “Aw, Stevie,” he manages to say, “are you saying you want to be best friends?”

“. . . Something like that.”

Steve reaches for the battle vest he still hasn’t given back yet—and oh, okay, Eddie thinks. Robin had said she’d get Steve a clean jacket and shirt (and socks, and shoes) inside. She’ll be back with it any minute. But no, Steve shrugs back into the vest and seems perfectly content.

And it can’t mean what Eddie wants it to mean, in this gap between bursts of go go go code red emergency where there’s actually some time to breathe. That would be too much, it would burn what’s left of his personal Munson doctrine to the ground—

The RV door slams open to admit a stampede of teenagers. Someone yells “Drive, drive!!” and Eddie feels suddenly unbalanced because Steve is already alert and scrambling for the driver’s seat. 

Moment to breathe over.

#stranger music anthology #steddie fic #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #code red is an unfortunately effective cockblock #my fanfic #donnie darko steddie au

[demadogs]

I know, i know 😭 (30% anon here). It's not that i think the idea is absurd at all, like you listed so many good things!! I'm just trying to actively lower my own expectations because i'm the type who gets really invested and then consequently really disappointed (though i guess since this is tumblr most of us are that type lmao). I'm just used to shows not following through with subtext, and i'm not only talking about gay subtext, but all different kinds of plots. I hear you though, trust me!

Since i'm already in your inbox, i have a question: have you been around for a while? What's the history of the byler ship? Was it always popular? Did people always think there might be a serious chance or was it more of a crackship? Were there any popular theories that came true or that were completely false? Since i'm super new to the show myself i'm curious!

yeah i totally get it. my brain is just not wired to be able to have lower expectations for something that his this much evidence for. im either 100% confident in something in a show or i have absolutely no idea whats gonna happen lmao.

i only started being active in this fandom a few months ago but ive shipped byler and followed lots of byler blogs for years. people started shipping byler after s2 came out. i didnt see anything about it during s1 because they literally had two scenes together and there was almost nothing really to work with. but when i watched s2 when it first came out i distinctly remember thinking “….is anybody else seeing this?? am i crazy orrr?” and then i went on here and found a small fandom of people who shipped them too so i was like “ok cool nice”. at this point it was mostly gifsets of their scenes together and maybe some edits and we hadnt established whether we were gonna spell it byeler or byler yet lmao. then i found @kaypeace21 and she was the first person i saw ever actually analyze it and really start to believe that everything might be intentional.

before i followed her, i never even considered that they might actually go through with byler. i think that was the case for most people during s2. i shipped it in the same way i currently ship ronance and steveddie. i thought they were cute and had good chemistry but i never believed it would go anywhere because of mlvn and also just the doubt that an insanely popular 80s scifi show would put their main characters in a gay relationship. i still loved reading kaypeace’s analyses but i wasnt convinced yet. then s3 came out and that changed everything for me and a lot of other people.

i watched s3 the day it came out hoping for some crumbs of byler but again, not at all expecting anything evident of them actually going through with it. it was kinda just in the back of my mind bc i love this show mostly for the supernatural plot. but during their fight scene when mike said “its not my fault you dont like girls” i was shocked. that convinced me that at least will would have a crush on mike but i still wasnt sure about mike until that painfully awkward kiss on the last episode. it wasnt until a few months later i rewatched that season and went back to kaypeace and found SO many things that i missed!! mike not letting el touch him when they kissed, the drastic tone and aesthetic difference between the break up and the byler fight, the frame of mike perfectly in a closet when they kissed!! i was completely sold then and so were a lot of people. i also think it was around this time that finn liked some byler art that had the quote “im not gonna fall in love” on it so that made a lot of people like 👀.

then everything the cast and duffers have said leading up to volume one only increased my confidence. i went into volume one completely expecting more obvious queer coding and i was right to. i was already overly confident but the biggest thing from volume one that made me more confident wasnt even a byler scene, it was mike and el’s fight. im glad they had her explicitly call him out for not saying he loves her. they kinda had to spell it out for the general audience. that was a really good scene and the fact that they played eulogy over it!!!?? insane. i lost my mind when i watched that episode a second time and realized that. that is 10000% intentional and the only explanation could be that that fight was the death of their relationship.

anywho yeah ive shipped them almost since the beginning and its been so fun slowly realizing that theyre actually going to do this and watching it build up and seeing the general audience start to catch on. it added a whole other layer to a show that already would have been my favorite either way just because of the plot alone.

#that was a long ass answer #i like talking about my byler journey #stranger things #byler #eden answers

[whitherwordswither]

Logs from the Starfields

Name: Trim. Pronouns: They/Them. Background: Long Hauler. Traits: Wanted. Introvert. Alien DNA.

Some Backstory

I used to haul cargo long distances. Didn't matter what, as long as the creds were decent. Parts shipments to new colonies. A few passenger transports here and there when I felt like having some company. Sometimes, I'd even take a shady no-questions-asked contract.

It was one of those off the books deals that went south. That's how I ended up with alien DNA in my veins and a very unhappy client. To be fair, they didn't provide any warning or advise not to open the cargo. Sometimes I like to know what I'm stretching my neck out for. I wasn't totally prepared to fight off a weird space mutt with extra tendril-esque appendages and a penchant for chomping. Fucker got me good. I got 'em in kind. But whatever was in that hounds bite sure did some tango in my genome.

Get some weird dreams, odd cravings every so often. On the plus side I've never breathed as good my whole life. Been feeling quite a bit sturdier too. Food ain't been filling me up quite as well and med packs seem a bit slower but I ain't complaining… much. Which is also why I now have to keep my eyes open and watch over my shoulder. Never know when they'll send another squad to try and collect. I'm assuming they wanted the mutt for some wicked experiments. Guess I did the poor soul a favor on that front.

At the very least… it keeps my life exciting. If not tedious. Christ… I'm tired. But if I stop, I'm dead, so. What can ya do? [ Note: Minor spoilers for beginning of the game ahead! ]

Captain's Log #0.01:

Life's been up, down, and through the ringer more times than I can count. And I can count pretty high. Been trying to find a new way for a while now. Nothing seems to want to pan out. Shit luck, I guess.

Signed up with a mining crew for a change of pace. Was about ready to go on lunch break. Have a nice sandwich. Took it right off Rigel's plate. Stared right at him while I did it, too. The look on his face was priceless. Didn't even try to stop me. (I only feel a little bit like a jerk. But he's been getting on my nerves. What's a little sandwich shenanigans between crewmates, right?)

So anyway. Didn't have time to eat. What did I get instead? A ridiculous helping of ancient artifact brain waltzing, a run and gun all pirate rodeo, and a robot who criticizes the amount of junk I pick up every chance it gets. Listen, buddy. I got to net some creds somehow. And ain't nobody using these 15 microscopes for anything. Or those 37 succulents. Mind your own business. (Though, not sure why I needed all these notebooks in assorted RGB colors. I could drop a few but… I just think they're neat.)

Guess I also got a free ship out of the deal. At least no one's tried to take it back from me yet. See how long that lasts. (Pirates notwithstanding. I made a special detour to talk the head honcho out of pestering me. He even agreed. Then I accidently shot the volatile barrel him and his two guards were standing next to and uh… Oops, I guess?)

Anyhow. Poked around this abandoned research facility. Scanned a few rocks and some novelty sized trilobites. Filled my pockets and then jumped to New Atlantis.

Some group called Constellation wants me to join up given the head-fuckery I witnessed on contact with the artifact. Some kind of explorers club. Gave me a room and everything. Sarah, who seems to kind of be the woman in charge, wants to take me out on a mission. But I've got a lot of side gigs on my plate already and I want to take care of those first, so. I hope she don't mind waiting around a bit while I do some good humanitorial work… or whatever.

Feels nice to help folks sometimes, y'know? Got a tired lookin' gal near the tram some coffee. Helped fix up some wiring discrepancies down in the sub-city. Even rounded up some bio-scanners for a scientist fella.

Think I might go survey a planet next. I'll tell ya about it when I'm done.

End log.

#starfield #creative writing #queer writers #writing community #sci-fi #space

[quibbs126]

You know, I always feel limited in what I can say about Cookie Run, mostly just because I never feel like I know enough about the world and characters

Like, I’ve been in this fandom for about 7 months, now beating out the Layton fandom in how long I’ve been here, but even now I still feel like a beginner in what I know. And even if I think I know a character or bit of the world, enough to make some sort of post, I feel like there will be someone telling me that I’m wrong in interpreting the character. I don’t recall if that’s actually happened to me in recent time (other than the Golden Cheese Kingdom confusion I had), but I always feel like that will happen

I mean granted, I think part of it is that I just really don’t know. I’m fully aware that there are story cutscenes for both Ovenbreak and Kingdom that explain the lore of characters, and that I can just watch them in YouTube (or in Kingdom’s case, on the game itself), but for some reason, I just choose not to. Granted, I think part of it has to do with the way I usually consume stuff about things I play

Generally, if it’s something I don’t think I will ever play, I’ll just watch people talk about it or watch them play it so I can experience it to some degree. However if I do end up getting the game, I tend to stay away from things discussing it because I don’t want my experience to be ruined or something, despite me usually already knowing things about it. And still wanting to consume fan content about it on here. I’m not really sure how my flawed internal logic works

Anyways, I think in this instance, it might be a case of my brain wanting to experience things for itself, but we’ve gotten to the point where I’ve experienced almost all content that is currently available for me to experience, so that point should be moot, but my brain’s still operating on that “don’t spoil things” mentality, so I just won’t do it. This is kind of my first experience with a game with an ongoing story, as I usually play console games that already have a complete story once I get it, so I think that might be part of the reason wires aren’t connecting like they should

Though to be honest, that’s probably only half of it. The other half is that I just can���t be bothered to, despite me knowing it won’t take much effort. But that’s been a problem that’s been going on and increasing throughout this amount of time, unrelated to Cookie Run, so that’s a topic for another day

Though if I can give some sort of defense, there’s 200+ characters in these games. I can’t be expected to know everything. Even if I usually only talk about a handful, meaning this point is probably not as relevant as I think

But also probably a part of why I’m hesitant is that I see people talking about how other people just have bad takes on characters, and I’m afraid I’ll end up in that category. I can fully admit, I’m not very good at understanding nuance, I kind of just take things at face value, only rarely seeing deeper meaning and needing others to explain it to me, and I feel like an understanding of nuance is needed to understand some of these characters, which is something I lack

Also I have a problem of being a bit too sensitive and not wanting people to dislike me. And the fact I’m very indecisive and will change my opinions, usually if someone gives a different take that makes more sense to me. That’s usually why in my posts I put a lot of “probablies” and “I thinks” and “I dunno”, since I never want to be too confident in my ground. But again, personal issues

But yeah, I feel like in general, I’m never confident in posting concrete opinions on characters or some sort of take on a character in this franchise. And I mostly bring this up because I remember that I had some level of confidence in talking about the Layton games. But also there, I feel like the characters, story and world were much easier to get a grasp on, you just need to watch the cutscenes for the games and probably the movie. And the anime if you want to, but that’s at the current end of the timeline, way after the mainline games, so you don’t have to. Also, not nearly as many characters. All around it’s just easier to understand. Also frankly, the fandom was smaller and felt just generally more relaxed

#I don’t know I was just talking about this out loud and thought I should post #it relates to my last post about the SJS and me feeling hesitant talking about the subject #though I’m not sure I really touched upon why I feel so hesitant about it in the way I meant to #but whatever. I mean I did still mention it #just probably not with as much emphasis as I meant to #also I don’t mean anything against the people who make posts saying the fandom can often misinterpret characters #I like reading those posts and seeing other’s opinions #it’s just that it also makes me afraid to post my own thoughts because they feel incorrect #anyways #cookie run #real life stuff #account stuff #ramblings

[austennerdita2533]

@sekretny friend, I need you to explain all the reasons you paired invisible string with emma x knightley? I want to crawl into your brain, please share your thought and vibes 😭❤️

Well, of course! Since you asked so nicely, I’d be happy to give you a window into my thought process. :D

(Had to answer you here because this got way too long!)

SO. I think the main reason I paired ‘invisible string’ with Emma and Knightley is because the song, as a whole, feels reflective to me. Wistful. Experiential. An echo of love that follows along as well as points you, like an arrow, back to where you belong. 

It’s a full circle tune, beginning and ending in Centennial Park, which tells the story of a relationship over time. A friendship that becomes more, perhaps. Or will. One that evolves in increments - subtly, of course - with the changing seasons and the “barbed wire” mistakes that are tended to with care, concern, and genuine affection. It’s this idea that unconditional love has been the underlying “thread” or “string” between them all along. And it’s been there from the start. 

That, to me, is what Emma and Knightley have always had. They’re friends and neighbors. They’re confidants. They have good rapport. He sees her for who she is - graces, faults, and all; she values his opinion more than anyone else’s and always strives to do better when she knows she’s erred. They bicker, naturally, (which is part verbal foreplay, part challenge to grow), but there’s an ease and familiarity between them that allows for frankness. For authenticity. There’s no pretense in their dynamic whatsoever, they’re simply free and open to be themselves no matter what. And the fact that they genuinely like and respect each other at face value is the “invisible string” that binds them together. It’s the base, the sturdy foundation, on which their love is built--allowing them to elevate from friends to lovers with the naturalness of a released breath. 

This song is also about the passage of time, with someone looking back at significant moments they’ve shared with someone they’ve known for a long time. For years and years. (Centennial Park --> The yogurt shop --> First trip to LA --> Getting lunch down by the lakes --> That dive bar --> Centennial Park again) It’s about two people being tethered together since they first met - in a soft, understated, maybe even unobserved way - and one of them is only now realizing the truth of it all. What they are to each other, what they have. Where they’ve journeyed apart to get here, now. How special and “pretty it is to think” that something invisible could have been working behind the scenes this whole time to pull them together. 

There’s a sort of epiphanic feel, mid-song, where one of them is finally deigning to ask, “Were there clues I didn’t see?” And the best part about it is that the question is rhetorical. Why? Because the answer is “one single thread of gold tied me to you”  and they know that now. THEY CAN SEE IT. FINALLY.  So here they are, in this reflective headspace, tracing it backward and forward, letting it burn their retinas in shades of gold.

I think this song fits particularly well with Emma, who, while quite taken up with other people’s romantic sensibilities, takes almost the whole novel before she evaluates her own feelings for Mr. Knightley. However, once she does, after she probes the inner-workings of her own heart, she realizes he’s been there, waiting to be discovered, yet also never to be removed, the whole time. 

Likewise, Mr. Knightley had to endure the agony of suffering in silence. The passage of time is excruciating for a man who must love and admire in secret, never at liberty to speak, watching the years roll by like monotonous hills. For him, the thread was already apparent and he was following it--only at a longing distance--while Emma remained oblivious.

In a way, Emma and Mr. Knightley each had to grow to acknowledge, as well as express, the “invisible” regard they harbored for one another, so that’s why I love this song for them. 

#sekretny #replies #the loveliest of lovely people #ashlee bree talks emma and knightley and invisible string #hope this was a satisfactory answer aga! <3 <3

[theladyyavilee]

I've gotta admit I panicked a bit reading about Eddie's 6b arc from Kristen. But thats probably because i have such strong headcanon (read: projection) that he's gay/aspec and I dont think the show would ever go that route, so any dating arc would force me to watch eddie experience sexual attraction to strangers which would hurt my soul.

But I always tell myself never to read the articles (sometimes I see things not by choice) but I folded this time. Then I remember that almost every article that has been released, interviewing actors or showrunners, has mentioned something about an upcoming arc that either happened not quite how they described, or didn't even happen at all (eg scrutiny at bucks decision, buck maybe going on dates in 6a, madney couples therapy which was even in the synopsis!). And then I calm down, cos nothings for certain unless I'm watching it live on screen.

that’s very valid, anon, my knee-jerk reaction was also to pull a face and narrow my eyes at it for a bit, before I had time to think about it xD and I very much feel you on the whole aspec!eddie thing, I am also very attached to that headcanon, but I have to say, so far the show has handled eddie’s romantic storylines in a way that to me stays very true to that interpretation, so I am not super worried that they will suddenly ruin that, even if Eddie does end up dating, I don’t see them going all in and having him, I don’t know, going through a large number of people in a short time or hooking up with a stranger, both of those things would be out of character for what we have seen for eddie so far and imho not something the show would do! but aside from that, I’ve already said it in tags a few times, but the whole ‘dipping his toes into dating’ to me sounds a lot less like actually DATING and more like he maybe gets asked on a date or maybe chris asks about whether he will be dating again and it forces him to consider the whole idea of dating and to ask himself is that something I want to do? do I want a partner just for me, not for chris? what do I want in a partner and what would dating look like for me? why didn’t it work out in the past? where do I see my romantic life going? and many more questions, before he would even start dating for real, so I am not worried, I am actually curious to see what comes up through that!

and then of course, so true, the articles are very much a double edged blade, because on the one hand experience tells us that we have to take everything in them with a grain of salt (or a bucket of salt in some cases xDDD) but on the other hand I personally am just way too curious to not read them unfortunately, so instead I have adopted a different approach to it, where I view the articles more like I view meta in this fandom that I hadn’t considered yet/disagree with, as a cool perspective that can give me a different angle to look at something from or a detail I hadn’t noticed, but not as something that is set in stone OR canon and that has definitely helped a lot! but yeah, at the end of the day a lot gets said in those articles and some of it turns out true and some of it doesn’t and some of it is just one puzzle piece of a way bigger picture that completely changes its meaning from how we first interpreted it! so yeah, it is definitely the best course of action to either stay away from them completely or to not take them too serious, because it’s really not worth it to waste energy on worrying about something that has like a 60% of either not being true at all or being taken out of context in a way that can completely change its meaning 💕 but it is also very okay to have knee-jerk reaction of worry or upset, because I do too, because that’s how my brain is wired xD

#me answers a thing #anon #9-1-1 #911 spoilers #911 season 6 speculation #eddie diaz

[articlesofnote]

a true original

so I spend a lot of time thinking, just letting the brain do its thing while it spends whatever effort it needs to spend on keeping my heart beating and operating my sweat glands and whatever. and, wow, do I want to go back and redo that first paragraph, but I won't, for reasons which may (or may not) become clear. y'see, just a minute ago I watched a youtube (id: aCZ1CFRwhQI) which is from some internet guy talking about The Wire. the Algorithm knows that I like The Wire, so I guess that's why I got this one. it's a li'l eight-minute video precis about this one shot, where the camera pulls back and there's a shit-ton of cans on a roof. it was an ok video! it had some new information for me, about one of the showrunner's philosophy about how the camera should work, and a new way (to me) of articulating that philosophy: the idea of "what the camera knows." but, the analysis of the shot itself was pretty thin sauce. the guy who made the video also got some characters names wrong! which is Very Irritating for a pedant like me. so I'm thinking about this video, and my reaction to it. i'm thinking, particularly, about whether it is possible - and if possible, desirable - to contribute actually original perspectives into the world. i feel that, yes, it's possible but really fucking challenging, because there's a lot of people saying a lot of things about a lot of stuff. and yes, it's desirable, because otherwise nothing ever changes, and culture becomes more and more homogeneous as everybody comments on the comments on the comments on... the comments on some cultural artifact that represented an Original Perspective on Something. and homogeneity is bad! I think! i'm pretty sure? but, also, for something to be commentary it has to exist in such a way that some audience somewhere can understand it; they have to have enough of the contextual pieces already that they can see the connection that the commentary is trying to make. something actually original would definitionally be impossible to understand, since nobody would have a frame of reference for it, so whatever else it might be, it would be bad commentary. so, this video. am I the audience? maybe - I watched it, I thought it was ok, I got something out of it. probably an ok use of eight-ish minutes. i've wasted time in much dumber ways. but i feel like the only response I have to something like that is to make another video being like "here's MY take on that shot" - and it would have basically 99% of its DNA in common with the video it was a response to. it hardly feels like I could contribute something meaningful. and those are two concepts I didn't expect to find linked in my mind - that Meaningfulness is so closely synonymous with Originality that I'll just use the one when I've been talking about the other. so, okay, what I care about is meaning... and, christ, that sounds so goddamn banal when I actually write it out. like, no shit I care about meaning? on the other hand, though, why feel bad about just saying that? like i've committed a faux-pas or something. where the hell did these rules in my mind come from? i guess, you know, cliche is bad... didn't realize I'd internalized that so strongly! which brings us back to that first paragraph - i feel like what I wrote is some weird-ass way to try and acknowledge that the Cartesian mind-body dualism is horseshit, in my own words - i.e. to actually contribute an original expression! about a thought that matters to me! that is, to acknowledge and express something that I find meaningful, albeit in an obscure way. and my IMMEDIATE and NEARLY OVERWHELMING instinct was "do not, should not, cannot write this, delete now, bad" - and i'm fighting that instinct AGAIN, thinking about actually posting this - so like, damn, thank you random youtuber for making a kinda mediocre video about something I like, so I could have some feelings about it, then have some feelings about the feelings, then write about the feelings about the feelings in this tumblr post. thank you, in other words, for helping me feel okay about saying something original EDIT: also, lmao, the beta editor had a bug and wouldn’t let me post this at first

[kellykadesperate]

okay so now that i'm all caught up and i've been forced to watch each episode every week as it comes out - as the lord intended but still my brain is not wired like that anymore lmao - here's my rundown:

gregory eddie is a treasure and i love him. that man and his deep voice, Whew. he deserves the world, i'm so enamoured by him lmao i like how he really is kinda stoic most of the time but it slips when he's around someone he likes (cough janine) but also like, that high five with barbara was one of the cutest things i've ever seen, his interactions w the kids are adorable and that man is already so far gone for janine, the way he can't help but smile when she cracks a silly joke, his whole face softens.... once things start Escalating in that department i'm gonna die

ms barbara howard is a Treasure, i both love and respect her, she's so endearing sometimes and she has the biggest mom vibes, janine wanting to get hugged by her is a Mood

melissa is incredible, i looooove her bond/alliance with barbara, love how she takes no shit, love how she has so much love and cares a lot about her job - also loved how hot she looked in that scarlet witch costume in the latest ep she was so right about that

i relate to janine so fucking much lmao i really like how they strike a balance between showing how she wants to make things better but she goes about it the wrong way sometimes, and that doesn't absolve her from taking responsibility but it also doesn't make her a bad person per se. i love her fuzzy cardigans, her outfits scream teacher every time, she's so cute and tiny. i bet she's fucking terrifying if she got like, Really pissed off

jacob is that perfect embodiment of an annoying white liberal lmao heart in the right place but whew learn to shut up sometimes. his side glances to the camera are perfection, i love how he so clearly wants to be friends with gregory and gregory begrudgingly allows him to try

ava is both annoying and smart, incredibly sharp and has some of the best jokes imo. i love how she cares about all the teachers despite mentioning at least once an episode that she doesn't lmao

yeah so i love this show and i will now dutifully wait every week for a new episode ✌✌ (sorry about this being stupid long btw)

OMG!! Never apolgoise, i love talking about my silly little show!!

mr eddieeeee!! no but seriously can you imagine you apply to be a headteacher, fail, then come in as a cover teacher role and realise that the only reason you have not got the headteacher job is because of blackmail. like! It’s insane. i love how goofy he can be and like you say when he slips a little and looks at the camera like BRUH what is going on. he’s such a good outside pov character in the first few episodes, he’s like ???? janine hi :) ???

and barbara and melissa are the ultimate work wives. I love them so much and how totally over all the insane drama they are, they just rock up like cool another day another disaster

janine!! i love her so much and yes the outfits lmaooooo, the belts are just … so unnecessary and cute bless her. It’s weird because being a teacher myself she reminds me of like me when i was doing my training. just so optimistic and wanting to change lives lol but i love how they do touch on why she is the way she is re: mum issues and stuff like yes she’s overbearing at times but also !! hello she’s trying to change the world. let her.

honestly her and gregory’s slow burn situation is driving me insane but it’s just so <333 cute and wholesome and i love how they’re so trusting with each other and have little interactions which put them both at ease

jacob’s line about teaching history but living in the present lmao. and when janine is like stop talking about your work in africa and ZAK. i love jacob so much he’s honestly just the right side of annoying

ava is my favourite character ngl she is ………. Everything. i feel like you can’t help but stan her and think she is just insane but also iconic?? every single line of hers has me dying and AGAIN like they showed that she does have layers re: her grandma. she’s just constantly vibeing and slowly destroying the education of hundred of children but she’s having the time of her life so let’s keep it up. i am so intrigued about who was the headteacher before her too? like did melissa and barbara have a heart attack when she started? give me this information lmao

honestly like i LOVE how good all the characters are, and how they are all just so funny and relatable in some ways. there's 22 episodes this season so it's running up until february!!

#answered asks #i'm so glad ur watching!! #lockedinmybody #abbott elementary