#or are they just a fake punk who cares more about money than actually BEING punk

[weirdbabs]

do you think they were a nepo baby who went on the music scene doing punk bc they thought it would make them rich

#or are they just a fake punk who cares more about money than actually BEING punk #like. im not saying following grandpa guerra is necessarily punk. but if you buy into his whole deal it could be bc your rebelling against #the whight in power to better protect the town/fight w your powers/whatever franciscos true goal is #paranatural #at first it was like woah! theyre stuck in the town rj’s gonna love that! then it was like oh shit wait. maybe they wont. and now its like. #wait. ARE they even stuck? they cant see/hear ghosts w/out razor rex’s powers. are they ACTUALLY a spectral

[insuke69]

What's in a name? P2

Part I

2/3

☆ Hobie brown × Rich!Osborn!reader

★ Synopsis: Osborn is almost a disgusting name because of the messed up things it has and the dirty money that holds it up by threads. And here is the child that sneaks out one night and meets a punk that goes directly against her father.

✩ Warnings: cussing, Some more angst, 'crybaby’ reader, misunderstanding, SMUT

★ smut: P in V, unprotected, pull-out-method, oral (F!receiving), pierced pp.

Rating—M

✩ 7,1k words

______

If one word could describe how the next few days of your life was, It’d be bittersweet.

Bittersweet Because of how sweet Spiderpunk was to you. Or rather, how sweet he was to who he thought was Emily.

So sweet while you couldn’t describe how you felt with him, with your own behavior more open and carefree with that dark mask you bare almost every night when you sneak out and ‘accidentally’ run into him. It makes you grin like an idiot when he stands close or when you see him webbing over to you as you chill around the bench.

That bench where you two met, where you always helplessly cried as a little girl now being a place you look forward to going every day. The second the sun sets you tell Roxy you’re going out and you stay out until any hour of the night with not even Roxy knowing about the special punk that makes your heart pound and your body ease with some kind of feeling that makes you want to be close to him physically and emotionally.

Something about how exhilarating and free you felt around him, his arm around you while you held onto him. You two often webbed some nights, to buildings you know inside out since you helped your dad design some, or some simple spray painting in canals, and if you were lucky: You two would end up on some rooftop talking while looking into the night sky with few stars because of light pollution.

One night you’re bent beside your bed with the collection of pictures with you and Spiderpunk, you’re wondering if you should show him who you are: But that's the bitter part.

Spiderpunk loves and is close to the masked street artist he simply knows by her fake name, Emily.

Bitter because he doesn’t care for the actual woman below the mask, yet he enjoys the mask and the personality below. Spiderpunk seems to despise y/n Osborn. He doesn’t make his rebellious habits too known since he didn’t do that for attention and was always his own unfiltered and blunt self. How the hell will you two ever know each other when he wears his mask for anonymity and you wear yours to not end up getting stabbed at every turn.

“I just.. I feel like she's always trying to act as if she’s so much better than her dad, when she doesn’t even leave her house to avoid the people who see her as she is.” you remember Spiderpunk shrugging since the topic had moved to ‘you’.

“Yeah? What a hot take.” You comment sarcastically with a chuckle. You couldn’t defend yourself/who is the true woman behind the mask since he would likely be offended that you would defend the daughter of such a monster.

Your small memory moment cuts short as you hear your door knock in the way you know exactly who is the one behind the door and quickly shove the shoebox full of pictures of Spiderpunk and you with the art you’ve been putting up on most osborn buildings under your bed and sit on the edge of it while the door opens and Roxy walks in.

“Hey, remember to get ready for the event.” She said as she looks away from you and goes straight to your closet. “This is important to your father, he needs his daughter there and he needs you to behave for it.” Roxy continued as she began picking out an outfit for you.

This was a christmas event where your dad made a whole thing just to show off he donated some money to a cause about homeless and unfed people around in Brazil, meanwhile he hates the needy people down in the city less than a ten minute drive away–and actively keeping them ignored.

“What's the.. Uhm..” You begin before pausing to think of the word,

“Schedule? It's from five to twelve.” Roxy chimed.

“What? Dude! I won’t be able to go out w-” You cut yourself off before rewording your words, “I don’t want to go.” you say as you lean back on your hands before adding with a scoff. “It’s a waste of time and we both know I just have to smile for a camera and look pretty like some display model.”

Roxy didn’t know about Spiderpunk, nobody did. You couldn’t let her know about Spiderpunk, it's one thing to sneak out and arrive home late with spray paint stains and smelling like an unfamiliar cologne and musky scent faintly drafting through the air you walk through–mostly because you have to hold onto Spiderpunk as you two swing through the musty camden air.

“Yes, but you also have to understand how important this is to your father, and I’ve been trying my very best to make sure your Mr. Osborn h-”

“My dad, Norman, I couldn’t care less.” you interrupt with a slight grimace, “You don’t have to ‘Mr. Osborn’ him to me.”

Roxy nods and clears her throat, “Norman,” She corrected, “In shorter words, I’ve trying so damn hard to make sure he doesn’t find anything out about whatever the hell you do when you go out, The least you can do is listen to me and miss what you do just this once.”

Her tone is a bit exasperated while still calm as if it were nothing while she rummaged through your closet and took out a sparkly low cut red dress with black edges along with lace over where cleavage would’ve been visible, along with black stilettos. She places the dress and pair of shoes onto your bed beside where you sat and moved over to your vanity for the jewelry to wear with everything, settling on a pearl necklace and a pair of white gold earrings and placing them in the middle of your vanity for you to put them on before makeup.

“I still don’t get why you have to pick out my outfits, still.” You murmur under your breath with snark as you look over what Roxy had set up for you.

“You are still dependent.” She answered bluntly while grabbing tights for you, fishnets to have below the skirt of the dress.

Still dependent.

You go quiet for a moment. So even Roxy thinks you’re a daddy's girl who can’t think for herself. She’s always picked your outfits for you for events, it always pissed you off how she never wanted to teach you about what colors clash or what is too tacky. How are you supposed to know if nobody has taught you anything?

“Your hair will be half up-half down.” Roxy adds as she gestures to what she had set up for you.

At least you had your own abilities to do your own damn hair, how generous. And with that, Roxy had walked out of your room to leave you get changed and ready for the event.

You roll your eyes and start getting changed, you look at yourself in the mirror and take a breath before testing your fake smile while looking at yourself, partially not really recognizing the reflection behind it.

Some dolled up girl wearing things that cost more than most people can wish for, your money that you don’t earn, you can't earn anything. You’re like some little girl who has to rely on the people who refuse to even teach you anything. Your face just feels as if you’re being forced to enjoy and display everything that holds blood and dirt, almost muddily dragged on your skin and collar bone.

You huff and rip your gaze from the mirror and move back to your bed to take out the balaclava and gloves hastily and shove the shoebox back under your bed and hidden away then moving over to your closet and grabbing a black and white purse–shoving in the gloves and mask before spraying on your usual perfume and leaving your room to start being on your way to the event.

_____

In summary:

The event is shit, the event has loud music, loud overwhelming music, the whole time you have to be stood with a smile that barely reaches your eyes and having to awkwardly hug or shake hands with the most random strangers you have to interact with.

There's good food and catering–but you for whatever reason was told to stay by the big decorative tree and some security guards around you since it's the usual thing at events, your father isn’t really loved by all so it's for your safety to have some random big dude hovering your every move and interaction.

“Hey, what time is it?” You ask the taller man who wore dark sunglasses and a serious look on his face that barely glance at you, almost protecting you like you were some safe that has to be observed because of secrets and riches it held.

“It’s..” He changed his statue-like position and checked his watch, “Seven o’four.” He answered while moving back to his earlier position and staring dead ahead as if you were medusa, he was still and cold as stone anyway.

You scoff and cross your arms over your chest at the time. Five more hours of standing beside some man who doesn’t care to at all speak or interact with ‘the goods’ or the product he's protecting? No. You glance around and see some double doors that are labeled with two signs which indicate a woman's bathroom and the dude bathroom with a smaller sign with some writing that you can’t read all that well.

You take a step to walk in that direction before feeling a hand on your shoulder like a chain around your ankle holding you back.

Oh right, the statue-bodyguard

“Where do you th-” The guy began before you shake his hand off of your shoulder and keep walking in that direction.

“Bathroom! Little lady Osborn has to go to the ladies room.” You say sarcastically while walking over to the doors you saw, the bodyguard letting you go after saying something about not wasting time and five minutes–you tuned him out because you already felt so free without him hovering.

You walk towards the doors and read small instructions that pretty much tell you/the one reading that where the bathrooms are.

Turn left to the second hall and third door to the right, follow the hall where the restroom signs are.

-Oscorp

You push the door and walk through to see some big hall where there are other rooms, an untouched area of the venue that seemed to be rooms to take care of kids, like some daycare or classrooms. The hall has a barely yellowish tint and has a hall that goes to the bathrooms. You explore a bit more to find an exit with a bright green sign to indicate exactly what it is.

You grin and clutch your purse as you head to the emergency exit and push it open–the cold air of the night hitting you immediately and you curse at yourself for leaving your sweater to the guard.

You take a deep breath and let the cool air flood your lungs before taking a few steps away from the building to find what part of the city you’re in and start walking more while taking out your balaclava and gloves then putting them on.

You zone out while taking the refreshing walk away from the loud party your dad- well, ‘oscorp’ has thrown, a wasteful event full of music and food to distract people from the ruined lives caused by this large and overrated company.

You then hear a familiar THWAP appear from behind you.

Oh god.

Not now-

Your mask is over your face along with your gloves but that doesn’t hide your expensive jewelry or dress, or heels or anything of the sort that shows you aren’t the lower middle class woman Spiderpunk should think you are.

“Emi’?”

A voice you always want to hear, whether it's asking or telling you something, whether it's called out or whispered in your ear, you love whenever his deep cockney words are directed at you. The nickname he gave you since he often joked about Emily being too much of a hassle to pronounce.

But right now it feels horrifying, heart full of dread at the possibility of him figuring out you aren’t who you’ve been saying you are- hell- your name isn’t even Emily, you just named yourself after your dead mother.

“Emily.” Spiderpunk said more firmly once he recognised that mask, the same mask he sees most nights–and to little of your knowledge..

Really want to see what's below it.

Really wants to see the face of the woman he's growing to love.

You swallow your pride and turn to face him as if you were a kid whose hand was caught in the cookie jar.

The lenses to spiderpunks masks widen a little as if to represent a bit of surprise once he sees the figure below what he usually sees, a worn out hoodie or random tee and some jeans. But now he's seeing a curvaceous colored figure in a dress that's glamorized with jewelry made of pearls and white gold, shining in the streetlight and faded moonlight.

You expect his expression shift of disgust or something at how you’re dressed, rich girl, looking like a classy brat whether there's a mask and gloves to seal something that's already leaking through your image. You’re ready to blink away tears at the feeling of your sinking heart, hands tensing and feeling like you’re holding the world's problems along with your own chained to your palms.

But to your surprise, he starts to shrug off his iconic leather jacket, before you can get a word in he passes it to you and puts it over your shoulders. “Its cold as hell tonigh’, what the hell are you wearing out here.” He says playfully with a chuckle as he looked over at you so the rhetorical question sinks in.

How the hell are you supposed to answer that?

“Uhhhhhhh..” You try to register the warm jacket now over you that had that lingering punk scent that a part of you wanted to steal genuine sniffs but you knew you couldn’t really other than subtle inhales, that scent so comforting for no reason beside the one who radiates it.

“I was at an.. ‘Important’ event but snuck out like usual.” You summarize as you adjust the jacket so you can put on the sleeves and snuggle into its warmth and scent.

His warmth and scent.

“So d’you wan’ to do the usual bullshi’ on rooftops or do you wan’ to jus’ want to fuck around Osborns buildings some more?” He asks with a grin in his voice as he lazily puts his long lanky arm around your waist like he did every night ‘platonically’, ready to tighten his hold the second you say yes for you two to swing wherever.

You smile and nod “Yeah no, I’m fine with whatever as long as it’s with you.” to which he happily shoots a web and you both begin swinging through the well lit streets of Camden, at least the part of town you both were in. The cold air soon felt a bit heavier, indicating the part of town less taken care of and more polluted. You two glide over several streets but Spiderpunk lowers and slows down around an alleyway, a familiar alleyway..

The Alleyway that started it all.

You could see the same gas station a bit down the street, bright and open. The same station where you had bought food for..

“Squaishy!” Spiderpunk greeted that same person as he let go of your waist and left you to come closer on your own accord instead of dragging you into the space, not knowing at all what has happened here for you. Little did Spiderpunk know that ‘Squaishy’ was the one who caused your tears that night. Squaishy seemed to be doing better but still with the worn out jacket but they were happy and glad to see Spiderpunk as they greeted each other with a handshake and small hug, A smile in Spiderpunk’s lenses. But Squaishy’s eyes darken as he looks over at you and recognizes your mask.

But Spiderpunk follows his gaze, not realizing the tension. “Squiashy! This is my friend, Emily.” he introduced as he put his hands on your shoulders and almost pushing you into the conversation.

A knowing amused smirk falls onto Squaishy’s lips as they raise their eyebrows, “Emily?” He echoed.

Fuck.

“I have to go.” You say abruptly before Squaishy can have a quip or comment about your name..

Or mentions that it isn’t your actual name.

Words couldn’t explain how Spider-punk looked as his head whipped to look in your direction as if you said something so appalling that it insulted his whole bloodline, “Wha’?” He asked as the lenses of his mask widened, looking almost like round ovals–but the important thing is that you suddenly feel his eyes burning into yours, as if he was shifting his attention onto you to not leave so soon. Squiashy’s smug expression shifts slightly when he notices how Spiderpunk when from seeming happy and in a good mood, to worried and uncertain.

“I was out on a walk.. You know, from where I escaped-slash-snuck out from, and I don’t want them noticing I’m gone or anything since I’m an ‘important factor’.” you say awkwardly, trying your best to say everything but nothing at the same time.

Hobie isn’t stupid though, he can always tell when there’s more to the story, especially now since your excuses are getting more vague and sloppy.

“I can take you back?” He offers, either wanting to spend more time with you or curious as to what you do or who you actually are. These half truths are starting to make Hobie more curious of the woman behind the balaclava every night. At his offer, trying to know more about you, not knowing that you aren’t the Emily you’re displaying yourself to be.

Emily is bold, playful, sarcastic, sweet, thoughtful and fun. She's the woman spiderpunk wants to hold close at night and would do anything to see her eyes below the mask smile.

But he didn't know the person who you have to keep hidden from him like how you keep ‘Emily’ from your father.

Y/n is quiet, keeps to herself, diffident, rich and spoiled. The woman who spiderpunk feels indifferent about beyond disdain and a grimace when he hears her, or the Osborn name in general.

“No, no. or.. Can you take me where you found me?” You request awkwardly with a small smile, hoping he’ll say yes, half knowing he will but won’t stop asking things. He’s as curious as a cat.. An adorable, tall, lanky punk-cat.

He nods and says a quick bye handshake with Squaishy and turns back to you, putting his arm around your waist firmly and holding your body against his then shoots a web, soon launching into the air and swinging, your arms and around his neck. Palpable tension beyond your face in the crook of his neck to shield your face from the cold air hitting you both. Tension now because of what even started this relationship..

His unanswered questions, and your half answers.

Once you arrive where Spiderpunk found you, when he sets you down he keeps a hand on your shoulder as if to keep you from leaving/running off. “So, would you mind telling me at least wha’ even’ you’re talking ‘bout?” He prompted as he looked into your visible eyes through the balaclava. It felt like he was looking into your soul, making your mouth go dry.

“..I mind? I’m- I’m sorry but I really do have to g-”

“Don’ start with that!” He cut you off with a scoff as he moves his hand off of your shoulder, letting you be able to go if you really wanted to, “You always have to end up disappearing, I understand your need to have your identity secre’, but at this point it's like you don’ trust me.”

He isn’t wrong but he isn’t right either. You do trust him, there's so much you know you have freedom of doubt in him but.. It's the one thing you can’t tell him about, the one thing that you can’t control and that you doubt he’d understand. The filthy name that comes after your first.

Osborn.

Tears make a glossy layer on your eyes, You’re stuck. On one hand, if you tell the truth, he won’t ever see you the same. On the other hand, If you still avoid it, you may slip up and he’ll find out the hard way.

“Not- not yet.” You whisper, “I’ll tell everything you want to hear, but I just can’t right now.” you murmur as you took off his jacket he lent you and passed it back to him before taking some steps back, as much as you didn’t want this argument to end on this sour note, you couldn’t risk anything going wrong with your father.

Spiderpunk watched with furrowed eyebrows under his mask as you went away, disappearing as you turned a corner. He cursed at himself under his breath as he put the leather jacket back on, a faint lingering fragrance of your perfume, conflicted thoughts and emotions circling his mind like a toy train. On one hand, he knows your boundaries and wants you to be comfortable and able to cry on his shoulder, on the other hand: He won’t let himself be manipulated and lied to, whether he's infatuated or not.

He shook his head and clasped his hands over his face.

“This is a breach of her privacy. This is a breach of her privacy, this is a breach of her-” He repeats in his mind as he shoots a web and runs up a building to arrive at its rooftop. He takes off his mask and stands by the edge as he looks out at the street you went down, his mind screaming at him and his heart telling him it's a bad idea.

“She won’t like that you followed her. She won’t trust you, you can just wait..” “But wait how long? What is so bad that she has to keep it from me? How long can she play me as the fuckin’ fool..” His mind debating against himself, but still looking out for you.

He spots you and jumps over buildings while running, his eyes on you to see where you’re going. What you’re doing. Why you are in such a hurry. Watching as you approach the venue, going towards the door you went out from. Osborn’s charity event.

It was dark but he saw your figure, the way your hands moved to first take off your gloves and shove them into your bag but something fell without you noticing, then your mask. It’s like Hobie was watching it in slow motion, your hands raising to the end of your mask and starting to raise it.

In a flash of awareness, he turned around completely before he saw your face. This wasn’t how he wanted it to happen, this isn't how he wanted to see the woman hidden behind that fabric, but the need to know was almost hurting his mind, but he remembered you dropped something so he put on his mask then jumped and webbed closer to where you were and strained his eyes looking at the ground to see what you dropped.

A gold bracelet with the names “Anne-Marie, Emily, Y/n.”

Spiderpunk read the names and recognized Emily of course, so it was clearly yours, he thought. But he also recognized the name of the offspring of the man he despised. He webbed back up to the building he was on earlier and took off his mask to inspect the bracelet a bit more.

Hobies gaze softened as he gently held the delicate gold bracelet in his hand, for as small and thin it was, it was heavy. It really was gold. Hobie didn’t know what to think. Who are you?

The Event ended eventually and he just watched everyone leave, blankly staring at Osborn and his daughter-

His daughter wearing the same thing you were. The same purse hung on your arm.

Hobie felt his heart almost drop.. The woman he wanted to keep safe and protect was the daughter of the man he wanted to protect everyone around them from. He clenched the bracelet in his hand so hard that he bent the gold ever so slightly with his mutated strength. He wanted to laugh at how badly you didn’t want him to figure anything out yet, scream into the sky until it shattered because of the betrayal, the anger, the hatred brewing, the hatred for the Osborn’s moving to ‘Emily’, a girl who he thought was someone humble, who he wanted to have by his side, in his arms, and in his bed. It hurt. The avoidant truths. The way that he couldn’t think straight anymore as his mind and hands were tense.

The car drove off from the venue where the Osborn’s were going home. Hobie was going to confront “Emily”, He couldn’t recognize them anymore. As if he was going to confront a stranger he used to know. He followed the car from afar until it parked, he waited by the forest beside your house, he was about to climb a random tree to get a better view without being seen, but his hand was met with some rough fabric, his first reaction was to clench and pull it down.

He sees that in his hand, is her backpack. The one he looked through naively having little to no idea that she wouldn’t have to be a drug dealer when she can easily buy whatever she wants whenever she wants.

A bedroom window lights up and it catches his attention, he thwips a web to the outside wall and quietly walks on the wall and peeks into the window to see you kneeling down beside your bed in front of a shoebox.

“How was the event, Emi’?” Spiderpunk asked sarcastically as he let himself in through the window, you flinched and eyes shot immediately towards him with your usually smiley and once gorgeous to him eyes as wide as glass dinner plates.

“What- what do.. Shit- I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you bu-” You began as you stood and began walking closer before he cut you off with his voice raised and clear distaste as he spoke to you. You’ve never heard genuine venom in his tone, he always spoke happily with the lenses of his mask beaming.. That was gone, all gone from his hateful gaze.

“Tell me what? That you’re part of a corporation thats forcing Millions of people in poverty? That you-”

“That I have nothing to do with!” You snap, years of verbal abuse from people who have always assumed the worst from you, and now it was even worse since he supposedly knew you internally. “Aren’t you someone who fights against stereotypes? Who fights against things that are unfair?”

“Don’ you dare. Thats differen’, you were actively Lying- Hiding the damn truth from me, Hearing me say all these things about Osborn- Your dad- Ugh.” He groaned while clasping his hand over his face, trying not to yell since he knew about your sensitivity towards being yelled at. “I have been nothing but caring towards you and it feels like you’ve stabbed me in the back.” he summarized, slowly taking off his mask to show his seriousness.. And to show that he still seems to trust you.

He felt betrayed, lied to, his trust was broken–yet.. He would tell you his plans, he would tell you which ones of Osborns buildings he was going to vandalize and on what days he planned to do it, but he’s never been caught.

He’s never been caught, you’ve never snitched.

You were there most of the time, you’ve had every chance to get him in trouble and caught, that means something.

Your expression softens, now wasn’t the time but he was handsome.. Stunning. His eyes shut and his eyebrows furrowed while pinching the bridge of his nose, the scowl showed that he genuinely felt conflicted and you had to know the actual reason why. It almost hurts that you are being the cause of his frown instead of the reason of his smile.

You shake off the pained thoughts and continue as you step closer so he could look at you, “Can’t you see why I never told you? Look at how you’re reacting. You know me, or you at least know ‘Emily’, so what makes (y/n) any different?” you ask with a gesture of your hand, “I’m still the same girl who would spray paint with you, who’d come with you to put up art over my father’s buildings, the same girl you laughed with and the girl you held as she cried.” You tell him as your voice trembles with tears threatening to roll down your cheeks, vision already blurred from them pooling in your eyes, looking away before he could see the effect all of this is taking on you.

He's silent for a second, he wants to yell, he wants to talk, he wants to sob, he doesn’t know exactly what to do for a moment so he swallows his pride and interrupts you right before you were about to break the silence yourself.

“Because I loved you!” He spat as if he never wanted to admit it himself, “I loved the girl who’d spray paint with me,” Hobie takes a step closer to you this, “I loved the girl whose art I’d put up on Osborn’s buildings, and I loved..” He trailed off for a moment as he put his hand on your chin to force you to look at him gently, “..The same girl who laughed with me and who I held as she cried.”

Loved.

“Loved”..

“So what? Not anymore? Because of an ‘asshole’ who happens to be my father?” You ask as you pull back from his touch, upset at the fact that Hobie was blaming you for your dad’s actions, “it’s fucking unfair.” You added under your breath as the crybaby in you was coming back stronger for ever, now the frustration from that night and every hateful interaction you’ve had coming back full force.

“I.. don’t know.” He answered honestly with an empty chuckle as if his own internal turmoil was funny as he looked into your watering eyes, knowing full well he was causing them, and that knowledge felt like a drill to his heart.

The water in your eyes thickens as you feel like he’s slipping from your hands, the one person who saw you as a person at one point now seeing you like a monster like everyone else did, always compared to your dad by everyone else, it wasn’t new.. But this just hurt so much more. So much more.

And Hobie’s heart is torn, this wasn’t how he wanted to find anything out, this isn’t how anything was supposed to go, he never wanted to make you cry. He closes his eyes and takes a small breath once your face scrunches up while choking back a sob, remembering how affected you probably are in this moment, recognizing your own heartbreak as he thought of your words.

Unfair.

It was unfair what your father was doing, unfair how many innocent people like Squaishy now sleep in cold tents in abandoned areas just to not be killed due to the cold or by other not as nice vagabonds. Nothing was fair in this moment, no stars were aligned, no god that smiled upon them, no luck in a single charm..

At this point you were on the verge of fully breaking down at this, everything just went downhill in a matter of moments. But the second you let out a choke sob, Hobie knew what to do. You suddenly felt his hand on your jaw and he pulled you into a kiss, a passionate yet soft one. His plump lips and warm piercing against your surprised ones, you fully thought everything was over and here he was: Spiderpunk/Hobie brown, kissing you with his neck craned to accommodate your height and his other hand moving to your waist to hold your body flushed against his.

He was beginning to regret having kissed you at all since you weren’t reciprocating but those thoughts were wiped once he felt your hand move to the side of his neck and an eager response from your mouth. This felt right. Whether you were some masked street artist, The daughter of a sadistic sociopath, or simply (y/n) Osborn, and if Spiderpunk was some masked Vigilante, a punk squatter, or simply Hobie Brown, this was right.

Hobie was clearly more experienced with his kissing skills, considering the fact he probably had more than quadruple the social life you did: He at least probably had much more than double the sex life too. And it doesn’t take long for the repressed emotions, repressed love and the electric tension when you two swung through the city catches up to you two. Hobie’s tongue mixing into the kiss tentatively and his hand that was on your jaw snaking into your hair and keeping you close in an intimate yet not-forced way.

This feeling was intoxicating, finally having him close and his lips slotted in yours, fitting together like some kind of perfect pieces from different puzzles. Hobie advanced ever so slightly which made you take some steps back until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed, he then gently pushed you back and climbed on top of you before pulling you into another deep kiss, but more greedy and ever so slightly wanton, and this change of pace made your heart begin to beat a bit more quickly with your lips hardly keeping up with his, his tongue dancing an expert tango and yours swayed a newbie ballet. He probably thought you had some kind of experience but you really didn’t, nobody dared get close to you emotionally and much less physically.

And its like alarms went off the second his hands lowered to your hips and thighs, close to the edge of the dress you had been wearing earlier at the stupid event earlier. You pulled out of the kiss and your hands almost slapped onto his in a haste to stop him, quickly muttering a quiet “Oh shit, sorry.” Under your breath as you rubbed his hands where your hand had landed on.

“You alrigh’?” He asked as his eyes looked into yours, ignoring your apology and focusing on why you had moved your hands to stop him so quickly, not wanting to move past your boundaries–he's not that kind of man, no matter how upset he was at you moments or however badly he wanted you in that moment. He was ready to put you first, you and your comfort first.[a]

“I.. I haven’t really done anything like this before.” You tell him bluntly yet a bit quietly as you averted your gaze in slight embarrassment, he was obviously a pro and an expert and here you were: Hardly able to know what to do with your tongue while making out with someone. This information clicked into Hobie’s mind and he nodded, “You don’ have to do anything you don’ wanna.” Hobie assured you as he gently put a hand to your cheek and made you look at him, his eyes boring into yours with raw concern and care.

“No no- it isn’t that I don’t want to..” Its that you don’t want to disappoint him or underwhelm him, but how the fuck do you tell him that after crying in front of him and literally disappointed him earlier when he learnt who you really were. “..I do want to, but.. I’m no model either.” You say half-jokingly to try to lighten the intense mood.

Hobie nodded again before leaning in and kissing you again, he didn’t really mind as long as you could express your limit, “Alrigh’, but if you need me t’stop, just say the word.” He reassured you while practically looking in your soul through your eyes.

He then leaned in and began kissing your neck, his hand moving to your waist while the other moved to your back and slowly began pulling down the zipper of your dress, the feeling of his touch and his lips on your neck like a kind of blue electricity that went all through you. The dress soon lowered to your waist, exposing your breasts that simply had nipple pads due to the dress having been one of cleavage, Hobie carefully peeled them off and set them aside onto your nightstand and began kissing down your collarbone with one hand already massaging your tit and pinching your nipple, his other hand working to lower the dress more. Over your abdomen, past your hips, down your thighs, and off your legs and body.

He carefully let his hands lower and gently hold the band of your fishnets and panties, but he paused as he awaited a yes or no from you, everything was going to be on your terms.

Your heart was pounding in your ears, breath slightly shaking and his hands were calloused yet soothing on your soft skin, but you wanted more and so you nodded in approval and soon enough–Your panties were gone too, your cunt fluttering once exposed to the cold air and Hobie’s hungry gaze. In a moment of self-consciousness your thighs press together, or at least you try to before Hobie stops you with his hands on your knees and easing them apart, not at all forcefully but just enough to show what he wanted.

“Do ya trus’ me?” He asked softly, the exact same way that spiderpunk did all those nights ago, his hand once that lingered too long on your hip now on your knees, showing yourself and your vulnerability.

“Never stopped trusting you.” You answered with a small approving nod.

And with that, Hobie began to pepper small kisses into the plushy flesh of your thighs and slowly inching closer to where you felt you needed him most. After what felt like hours, he finally reached the lips of your glistening pussy and his warm breath touching your puffy clit. He kissed it once before licking a stripe from your hole to your clit then latching his mouth suddenly to your bud, blissfully making out with your lips expertly like he was with your upper ones earlier.

“Oh.. shit..” You moan breathlessly with your hand knotting into his hair. His hand moves from holding you by the knee to keep your legs spread towards the hole of your pussy, easing in a finger that entered with not too much effort due to his spit and your wet arousal welcoming him. Yet your hips squirming due to the intrusion, making Hobie slow down his finger and focus on your cunt.

He slowly pumps a single finger in your pussy while licking his name letter by letter on your sensitive bundle of nerves.. H-O-B-I-E B-R-O-W-N. You quickly feel yourself get more sensitive and your hips squirm, unsure of how to react to this new sensation, his fingers reaching places you never could and much less stimulation at the same time in your hole as it is in your bundle of nerves.

You quickly come undone and your thighs almost press Hobie’s head between them, but his hand remains on your inner thigh to keep it open, lapping up your juices with his tongue flat on your cunt and his finger pumping in and out a little more before pulling it out of you and licking it clean. Something about this lewd display makes you clench around nothing, maybe it was the fact that he hardly took his eyes off of you once, studying your expression for any hesitance or regret.

He pulled up to show his raging hard-on, straining his jeans and creating a beautiful bulge. You watch as he fumbles with his belt and lowers his pants and boxers, his cock springing free and leaking beads of pre-cum, proudly standing eight inches at least, a silver Alberts piercing. He lazily strokes it a few times and aligns it lower to your sensitive virgin hole.

“Please.. Be gentle?” You request softly as you put your hand on his abdomen as if to make sure he had stopped and listened. He nodded before leaning down and kissing your lips slowly and passionately as he slowly eased himself into you with his hands moving to your hips. You felt a slight sting or burn while he pushed himself inside, yet his lips stayed on yours for you to be able to keep your focus and sounds averted while tasting yourself on his tongue. His hips come to halt once he’s fully inside, giving you time to adjust as he separated his lips from yours and waited for your green light patiently.

At the second nod of your head, he slowly pulled out and went in once again, creating a steady rhythm with his hips with pretty groans and praises falling from his lips.

“Fuck.. pretty cun’ sucking me in- tigh’ as hell.. Shi’.” He mumbled beautifully into the crook of your neck while his hips began rutting more into you, as if desperately chasing for more with his piercing stroking your spongey G-spot and his high.

You feel yourself clench around him as your orgasm washes over you once again, Hobie quickly following suit, Pulling out and stroking himself a bit more before finishing and cumming on your abdomen, his hands quickly moving to the sides of your head to stop himself from falling onto you and instead falling onto the space on the bed beside you. He laid on his side with a protective arm around your waist and held you close.

“Emily fuckin’ Osborn.” He mumbled almost to himself as he looked up at your fucked out expression, a small layer of sweat on your pretty face, normally he had fantasized of whoever you were under the mask being an expert at everything including dick and cunt, meanwhile here he was laying beside the daughter of the man he always swore to destroy.

“...Is now a good time to tell you that Emily is my moms name?”

“..wha’?”

___________________________

★| Taglist!:

@craziblondi @fodmdk123 @vinxernica @muffinlovesfiction @jane-3043 @coffeeandtealol @alecmores @azuurr3 @nyumei @noharaaa @alisoncdariel @dailyhobiebrown @malatuadimadre @ziarah @i-want-to-be-hit-by-a-car @malyjohn @horrorcore2002 @jess-fae @bluupen

@eyesxxyou

______

I’m really sorry if this is bad/underwhelming/not as good as the last one, I was really rushed and I felt bad for not getting this out sooner :(((

I love y’all so much <3

#across the spiderverse #spiderman #hobie brown #fanfic #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown x reader #spider punk #insuke #whats in a name #part 2 #part 2/3 #im finally done

[souryogurt64]

Something that really irks me about livestream culture is that everyone is sitting here criticizing concert attendee behavior from behind their screen while actively encouraging people to livestream the show which imo is extremely annoying concert behavior both for the people around them in the audience and the artist (regardless of who’s playing)

I get that it’s expensive and hard to get to shows now but the biggest proponents of this behavior are people who talk about seeing them on every tour so… idk maybe I’m just, like, old… but I’m truly not a fan :/

Yes, I 100% agree, it is so rude.

I feel like it’s now seen as rude to sing/scream/dance at all (within reason). Yet I feel like I see people on bandom absolutely crapping themselves in rage over “concert etiquette” that doesn’t affect anyone at all like people sitting down between sets or “looking bored” during the opener. 

And I DON’T understand the livestream things. Like yes. I support people taking a handful of videos during the show and posting about the show is normal. And of course everybody is going to talk about the show every night. 

But I DON’T understand how I have been seeing these bands live for literally 10 years, everyone has had smartphones all 10 years, and suddenly only now livestreams are a ginormous deal. I don’t understand how seemingly everyone has time to watch a 2.5 hour shitty phone video of a concert 5 nights a week and the site becomes actually unusable whenever there’s a MCR or FOB concert, which is every night. I don’t understand why people get so worked up and upset if they have to miss a stream because of work or because there isn’t a streamer. Who fucking cares. People will post videos after the show if something cool happens. I don’t understand why this is the world now. I think it has to be because so many people can’t go due to the insane prices. 

I also think artists (including FOB) are actively encouraging streaming culture and these insanely high “demand prices” by constantly needing people to be scared of missing out so they’re always trying to do new things every show and like. Some of it is cool but with FOB lately I feel like they’re running out of ideas and people are paying way more for an actively worse than “normal” FOB concert because they’re scared of missing out on these gimmicks. Like I don’t need 20 people nobody cares about performing their solo music onstage at a FOB show plus also 20 covers by Fall Out boy. Just fucking have FOB play FOB songs. Also I feel like the “demand pricing” is part of why MCR continue to taunt an album for 5 years because everyone paying 5 trillion dollars for a MCR show is banking that they will be the first to hear a new song or whatever. 

I also think most people in bandom (not anyone specific) are all lying about how much they paid for concerts because concerts are so expensive it’s completely socially unacceptable to admit you can afford it, and in order to be popular on Tumblr you have to cosplay being as oppressed as possible. Like I’m not going to judge someone for saving up for something nice or making a dumb financial choice but it’s deeper and more cultural than that. I feel like so much of bandom is suburban white american teens making and reblogging posts about how FAKE PUNKS on TIKTOK wear $20 lipstick, unlike REAL PUNKS WHO are POOR LIKE THEM, and they could NEVER AFFORD $20 DESIGNER LIPSTICK and we need to EAT THE RICH, then they see MCR or FOB barricade ten times in a row or whatever. 

Like one pit ticket to Fall Out Boy costs almost my monthly rent. I have now paid this much for FOB tickets 3 times. I always have to buy a friend’s ticket because nobody has this kind of money to go to a concert so I pay like $1300 every fucking time. I also have a credit card (which, by the way, requires “excellent” credit to have) that allegedly gets me these tickets at a discount. Yet every single person online says they got lucky and got front row tickets for $40 or whatever. What is going on. 

Like I am able to afford to see FOB when they tour because I grew up privileged, have a well-paying office job, have never traveled in my adult life, and do not own a car, partially to afford concerts. I’m also in the top .001% of Fall Out Boy listeners and top 1% of Spotify listeners overall, so like, of course I will pay this because I’m not the average fan. But not every single fucking person at these shows is also in the top .001%, so they just like. Can afford this crap for random bands they like. 

Anyway, I don’t really think I get “unlucky” when buying FOB tickets, I think this is just what concerts cost now and everyone is lying about it so they can continue fitting in with like all the social justice posturing and because it’s rude to admit in public but people need to talk about it because it’s crazy and it’s not okay for Livenation to be doing this and its not okay for artists to be participating!!!!!!!! 

I also feel so bad for teenagers because when I was a kid going to concerts at all ever was a huge battle with my parents and they cost like $40-100 a ticket for like. Pit tickets to bands like All Time Low and Green Day. I never, ever would’ve been able to experience a concert as a teen if they cost back then what concerts do now, and it’s just really sad because those are important experiences. 

Anyway I think the fact that people can’t afford to go to concerts anymore HAS to be driving the weird livestream obsession and the emotional dependency people develop on these shitty obnoxious 2 hour phone videos. I also feel like the financial shift in who is going to concerts is driving a lot of the weird meltdowns about “concert etiquette.” 

Also as a final tangent, I feel like the livestream stuff is so immediate and impermanent too. Like everyone needs everything right that second and once its over it doesn’t matter? When I was younger it felt like people just blogged about the Tour and Tour Stuff as one big event for months/years, but now if videos are posted hours or days later its like they aren’t relevant and no one cares because everyone is panicking over finding a streamer for the next show. IDK i hate it

[until-i-devour-you]

A little vent post, cuz this is a vent blog, after all.

I'm always thinking I'm faking it for attention.

It doesn't matter what "it" is.

It doesn't matter if I have all the evidence and reasons for "it" to be legit.

There are a few examples I'm getting paranoid about, lately.

I have the suspect of being autistic. I started suspecting it a couple of years ago, I have tons of signs of autism in every aspect of my Life. I talked about it with an handful of trusted people, two of them were recently able to get a professional diagnosis, and always told me I'm one of the few people who understands their sensory issues or certain ways of thinking. One of them actually decided to take the occasion to get diagnosed cuz they thought I already had one, and they thought that maybe they're autistic too. They are. I'm not telling about it to whoever will listen, I believe in self diagnosis but I highly doubt myself because I don't have the money for an official one and I don't want to end up fooling myself because I obsess over things, but what if I'm faking it for attention?

I'm a trans man. I never felt like a girl. A post on Tumblr about Marilyn Manson made me discover the word "transexual" and I finally understood who I am. I was 17 at the time, now I'm 26. I'm trans, I know it, and for safety reasons only my family and my friends know about it, irl. But what if I'm faking it for attention?

I'm punk. DIY is basically what I live for, I'm actively avoiding Amazon and other services like that as much as I can - I have to make exceptions for my special needs pets' sake, since the stupid city I live into doesn't even have a pet store, let alone specific things I need for my pets -, I've always trying to support small business even by just talking about them with my friends if I can't buy, I have the main punk values, I listen to the music. I try to inform others about the crimes big corporations are doing - don't get me started on Nestle -, and I actively try to help others. Only a year ago I started dressing punk, with my lil' thrifted clothes I'm having fun painting and modifying, but heh, I didn't have the opportunity to do this sooner. Then, Across The Spider-Verse came out and I'm happy people remember once again about Hobie's existence, yeah, I love him, but he's making me doubt if I'm really punk, because what if I'm faking it for attention?

I'm pagan. I work with Loki, Hel and Fenrir. I used to work with Thor too, before starting to work with Hel. I truly believe in them, I've always felt close to Norse Paganism since I was a toddler, always reading about it, always fascinated by it. Learning runes felt so natural, I always use them to write in my diary and there's nothing that brings me more inner peace than meditating and working with the Deities I worship. It's not something I yell around, it's something personal, private, and despite having this piece of information on some accounts' bio, I talk about it only if people ask, but what if I'm faking it for attention?

Am I really myself?

Do I really think what I think? Do I really feel what I feel?

Am I really the person others know?

Do I really believe in what I believe? Do I really care about what I care?

What if I'm faking it for attention?

#vent vlog #vent blog #vent tag #vent post

[harmcityherald]

so the dispensaries are making only mon tues and weds patient only days. I have paid 200 a pop to get my medical card every year and what do these new recreational fuckers have to get? nothing? so should i cut my card up i guess i dont need it no more. never was a patient in their eyes was i? fuckers. and monday I want to see the owners ugly face so I can tell him right to his fucking face. i been loyal to that particular dispensary for years now. at least we get 3 days just for patients but I bet we get whatever trash is left over. fuck maryland and fuck that dispensary. I will be telling them I will find a more compassionate atmosphere. they took enough of my money strung me along made me jump hoops every year to buy a bogus, worthless godamn license for 200 a pop. now they gonna cater to yo boy jimmy bob with his fucking fake ass muffler and his fucking friends. patients are now hereby forgotten. and I fucking dare you to tell me I have to continue updating this stupid, now rendered useless card. I will have to wait in long lines in a parking lot full of honda civics and acuras with dueling fucking bass canons just to get inside. just wait till tomorrow. I WILL BE THE FUCKING KAREN OF YOUR NIGHTMARES RIGHT IN YOUR GOTDAM BOGUS ASS LOBBY. WHERES THE OWNER I WANT TO SEE HIS UGLY FACE AND TELL HIM WHY YOU ARE LOSING THIS CUSTOMER. its ok with you though isnt it you got all the harm city riff raff lining up. you never cared about patients you just like everywhere only care for your bottom dollar. fuck you. fuck the bass cannon wannabes and every one of you fuckers pushing people with actual problems aside to cater to these little fuckers. do you have a bass canon in your car? WELL YOU ARE A FUCKER. fuck you double time you little fucking punk with your fake ass teardrop tattoo and your feeble attempt to make yourself cool talking black vernacular. you cant even get that right you fucking useless poser. get the fuck out of my dispensary and eat shit and die. you are the motherfucker who will probably rob me and shoot me for no reason other than to help inflate your infantile ego. just wait till tomorrow. they've always known me as a polite guy. stomach cancer guy who told jhh they should study edibles and stomach cancer and how I put on more pounds than they ever expected. legal weed made the difference for me. appetite and being able to eat my way back to health which 4 separate oncologists have said is unprecedented. yeah im that guy and from now on im behind the line with a 21 yr old with absolutely nothing wrong with him except his fucking shit ass attitude and his willful ignorance of anything real world related. one thing about this state is its disregard of people in need and its insatiable hunger for money. so after tomorrow I will be looking for a new dispensary. one that maybe cares more for patients rather than the fucking trash lined up around the building today.

and why should I even pay for this patient card when no one else has to. fucking criminal weed sellers. maybe I just back and buy mine off the fucking streets again.

can you tell I am spitting mad?

fuck this state. fuck all states. fuck the world I hope an asteroid blows us all to smithereens. that would certainly end my pain and your fucking ignorance.

#medical marijuana #yeah fuck you people #I hope every non sick person in that line develops cancer of the gotdam anus. #the weed industry is preditory

[bunni-teeth81]

Slender bros rewritten by me

Cause I want character development

(This is mostly Offender, trender, and Splendor. Also if you like Slendey/slender dad you might not wanna read this cause I do not make him a good guy in the slightest)

Possible tw for mention sexual assault, pedolophilia, necrophilia, and zoophilia!

To start off, Offender is not a rapist, he isn’t a pedo, and he doesn’t fuck animals

He doesn’t do anything without consent, plain and simple. Him being all those things was a rumor started by someone he fucked in the past who got caught cheating. They said Offender forced them and the rumors have escalated since with his legend.

He actively avoids children cause he doesn’t like them. So he literally couldn’t be a pedo.

He doesn’t hate kids, he just prefers to not be around them.

He won’t fuck someone with kids unless the kids are out of the house and somewhere safe.

He’s wary about fucking 18 and 19 year olds and usually doesn’t

Occasionally if he sees a kid sad while he’s on a walk or whatever he’ll give them some daisies or something. Though they kinda just appear near the kid. He doesn’t actually go near them.

Though he will fuck old people. He has no problem with that. But he will go gentler cause they’re frail

He likes animals, but not like that. Like.. ew

He has a kind of respect for the dead, even people he’s killed to eat, so he’d never do that. Also it goes back to the consent thing. They can’t consent so he ain’t gonna fuck them.

He’s pansexual.

He’s very kinky, obviously. He’s willing to do pretty much anything in bed

He prefers to top but he has no problem being pegged-

Has tried every drug there is.

Usually just sticks to weed, alcohol, crack, shrooms, and the occasional LSD

Bath salts fucked him up majorly and he will never do them again.

He works for trender, who has a whole ass company (will be touched on later)

He helps trender make clothes for more alt styles (punk, grunge, goth, emo, all that good stuff) and he helps with lingerie (masc and fem. trender makes both. Offender tests it out and gives feedback on what could be added or changed)

He also finds models for Trender (there’s really no qualifications to be a model, you kinda just have to want to be one. Trender, his assistants, and other models will help fill new models in. And they never have to wear something they don’t want or pose a way that makes them uncomfortable. also theres do discrimination when it comes to models, any one of any race, body type, gender (or lack there of), sexuality, and age to an extent (depending on the clothes being modeled and (if parent permission is needed if they get it)) are welcome)

He also does side jobs like art (he does realistic art) plays piano or violin for songs, every so often he’ll join a strip club. Definitely has an OF.

He learned piano from his dad. Their dad made them all learn piano. His dad was very against him learning violin but his mother let him learn it (she knew how to play)

Their parents kept them pretty reserved from the rest of the world (particularly humans) for safety reasons. The brothers didn’t find out they were the only ones of their kind till they were like teens and went hunting for the first time.

Their parents suddenly disappeared when they were teens. They still haven’t found them and have no idea what happened to them.

Zalgo killed them cause the dad was constantly fighting him, so was the mom but less so.

There were originally 5 brothers, but one got murdered (It was Tenderman. Who wouldve been the oldest, then slender, offender and trender are twins, then splendor)

They don’t know how tender was murdered. All they know is they can be murdered. They still haven’t figured out how tho.

They do know that they can regenerate any part of their body (teeth and nails grow back almost instantly, limbs take longer, they can just put their head where it should be and the bone, muscle, skin, tissue and all that will pull back together, skin can either regenerate in about an hour or two or a couple days depending on the size of the wound. Their organs can regenerate but it takes like a month.)

Drugs don’t effect them the same way they do us. Our massive hangovers that put us out of commission is what happens after they do LSD. A regular hangover for us is what happens when they do coke or a drink shit ton of alcohol.

Offender has the highest tolerance, then it’s trender, splendor, and Slender has the lowest cause he hasn’t done drugs.

Splendor has tried them but doesn’t like doing them. He doesn’t drink much either.

Trender will do them every so often, usually with Offender. He either drinks or smokes a blunt usually. Shrooms are for special occasions, and LSD gives him major anxiety so he doesn’t do it.

Trender and Offender were the only ones to try bath salts. They don’t know what happened. Splendor says they disappeared for a month and murdered a shit ton of people. They almost got caught. And at some point Offender ate a whole ass headstone and took a chunk out of a mausoleum

Slender hunts whenever the hell he wants, he doesn’t care about being caught

Offender hunts every couple of months or so

Trender hunts about 2 times a year. He spreads out his food pretty evenly

Splendor hates hunting and usually Offender or Trender will do it for them. They’ll maybe hunt once a year.

Human food to them is like sweets to us. They can’t live off it but it’ll keep them from starving. If they don’t eat human for about 3-4 years they’ll start to starve, but the process is slow and would probably take a while to actually kill them

Trender, Splendor, and Offender try not to get caught or make suspicions rise. They just wanna live their lives.

The amount of people they consume and how long they stay in their human form determines their power levels.

Slender is the most powerful, then Splendor, Offender, and Trender is the least powerful (but they’re all still mega powerful)

Slender is never in his human form and consumes humans whenever he wants so he has nothing holding back his power

Splendor may not eat human much but they’re rarely ever in his human form. And if they are it’s not for more than an hour usually

Offender is in his human form about 50% of the time. He’s in his normal form at home or hunting and any other time he’s human so-

Trender is in his human form like 90% of the time since he spends most of his time at work (he’s a workaholic to the highest extent. When it becomes really bad is when Offender will step in and be like “hey let’s grab a drink and chill out”)

Offender and Slender’s relationship is like Raph and Leo’s from tmnt if their relationship was genuine hatred and violent

Splendor tries to med their relationship and makes times where they all hang out and have dinner together but to no avail

This is the only time Slender can be seen in his human form. He doesn’t want to go but for some reason he does

Slender is stuck in his ways

Their dad hated humans with a passion, and Slender looked up to their father and wanted to be exactly like him so the hatred rubbed off

Slender blames humans for his parents disappearing and Tender’s death. Tender was the brother he bonded with the most

Splendor used to be a really emotional kid and their father hated that so now they bottle up everything

Their mother tried to help as best she could

V support

Trender’s company is a fashion company that produces just about everything

And the sizes go up to 4 or 5 x

And the prices are reasonable and don’t go up with the size

Trender really doesn’t give to shits about money. If he could he’d just give everything he makes away but unfortunately he needs some money to produce what he makes.

He makes kids clothing, teens clothing, adults clothing in every aesthetic you can think of. Rarely will you see basic shit from him

He makes jewelry (real and fake (for the kiddies) and specifies very obviously which is which so someone doesn’t accidentally buy the wrong one)

He makes shoes!

His prices are usually around 10-25 dollars for clothing, sometimes 30 if it’s a specific brand (like Gorillaz or something. He doesn’t work with brands like Victoria secret, brands that have sweat shops, things like that. He doesn’t support them whatsoever)

His business is huge but he always listens to the people and tries to improve. And all his products are made ethically. He tries in every way possible to produce good products without polluting the earth more

Splendor usually only hangs around babies-young adults. They help them through rough home lives, trauma, and helps them find joy. They do everything they can to make them feel better

Splendor is the one who takes care of Sally. And they feels incredibly guilty for not being able to stop what happened to her, or punish her uncle himself.

Animals and mystical creatures are drawn to them and their home. They go to it for shelter and safety, as well as some food. But because Splendor isn’t always there they have a nymph friend there to look after everything.

Slenderman is the only one with proxies

Splendor is demisexual and bi, leaning towards men

Trender is queer and demisexual/demiromantic

Slender doesn’t love anything. Ever.

Trender gets annoyed easily but rarely ever gets pissed pissed (like original face altering pissed) if he does it’s either cause someone did something to his brothers or his models. And the unfortunate soul who did such will never be seen again afterwards

Offender doesn’t really get pissed pissed cause he usually either bottles it up or makes a joke out of it. It’s really only if something happens to his brothers that he gets pissed pissed.

Splendor has a list of people they wish they could rip to shreds. All of them parents. But they don’t want to do that to the children. They only intervenes and gets pissed pissed when the abuse gets physical or sexual. When it’s physically they’ll give the parent one change to never do that again. They’ll scare the shit outta them but won’t hurt them. If it’s sexual they kill them. Plain and simple.

Splendor started wearing pokadots to make the kids happy. Trender hates the suit but doesn’t comment usually

Splendor’s black hands are a skin disease their species can have. The skin is black and kinda ridged.

Splendor wears gloves because of their skin disease. the blood stains and they can’t get it out. Also they’re very insecure about their disease

Splendor put the bells on their tendrils so their movements didn’t scare the kids. They would always know when he was moving and where he was moving to so they’d be more comfortable. It was painful but it was worth it

Slender was in the woods when he was younger and almost got attacked by humans, but his mother came and saved him. (Her tendrils could be used as a shield)

Eden is not related to the brothers.

But eden looks a lot like their mother, so much so that Spendor legitimately mistakes her for their mother.

Slender’s human name is John (splendor had to come up with it on the spot leave them be)

Offender’s human name is Dimitri and I’ll die on this hill

Splendor’s human name is Faer

Trender’s human name is Quael

They can change their physical appearance to be fem or masc. like their body can change.

Slender doesn’t give two shits about pronouns

Offender doesn’t care but he/they/xem works

Trender goes by he/him

Splendor goes by they/them

(Im including Slenderwoman now so uh... 🤷)

Her hair is her tendrils.

She’s not part of the Slender bro family nor does she know they exist (though eventually she will. She’s way younger than them so)

✨Lesbian✨

Has met Slenderman tho. She hates him

Like genuinely hates his guts

She hates almost sharing a name with him.

Prefers to go by her human name; Eden

As long as you don’t use the pronouns he/him she doesn’t care.

She just kinda... appeared at the ripe age of 4? (She doesn’t remember anything past 4 so that’s what if feels like to her.)

Splendor is a switch and you can’t change my mind

Trender is also a switch

Slender doesn’t get any cause he’d kill them, purposely or not, being radioactive and all.

Eden is a top but can bottom is convinced

Offender, Splendor, Trender, and Eden can all control their radiation output so they can glitch tech when they chose and won’t hurt anyone

Slender could but doesn’t want to 🤷

They can be killed by their hearts getting impaled. The reason they don’t know that is because the skin will heal, but the heart can’t.

Offenderman’s real name isn’t Offenderman. That name was dubbed to him when people believed the rumors of him. But he kept it. He can’t really explain why but he did. And now he forgets it’s not his real name sometimes. Though he does prefer to go by Offender/Smexy.

Splendor calls him Offendy and he’s the only one allowed to do so

Trended has four arms, plus his tendrils. He can hide his second pair of arms like his tendrils but it takes energy

Getting their limbs/tendrils cut off only stings to them. They’re only in full on pain when their organs are involved

Eden’s blood has healing properties.

Someone can be turned immortal by being injected with one of the brother’s (or Eden’s) blood in large amounts. It’s extremely painful though.

Doing it slowly can ease the pain, so doing it over a week’s time nonstop will get the job done.

The injected person will be very weak after it for a couple days. A week. 2 weeks in worse cases.

The only one who’s done this is Splendor. They were dating a guy for a very long time and they told him about the procedure and he wanted it. After gaining back his strength he left Splendor. They’re not entirely over this even though it happened a long time ago.

They (mainly Offender and Trender) had to track him down and kill him. (Ya know, heart stuff)

That’s when they figured that’s probably how they could get murdered 

#slenderverse #slenderman #offenderman #trenderman #splendorman #Creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #slenderverse headcanons #stars slenderverse

[moonlightgukkie]

2020 Fic Rec Masterlist

Here’s an updated version of my 2019 fic recommendations masterlist! There are so many more amazing pieces of work I have read on this app, but this is a list of my favorites. Please be sure to check out these wonderful authors and their work(s)! <3 (also thank you to the authors that showed love the first time this was posted, ily)

“if i told you” by @gukyi​​ genre​: fluff, comedy, angst, friends2lovers!au

summary​: in order to pay for uni, jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself, donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses, he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.

one shot​, two shot, series

“awkwardly in love” by @strawberrynamjoon​

genre​: college, childhood friends!au, fluff, humor

summary​: even if everything changed, yours and jeongguk’s friendship would always stay the same - at least you thought so, but jokes on your, cupid had other plans for the two of you, making you reconsider everything you thought you knew about your best friend of 12 years.

one shot​, two shot, series

“one thing right” by @hobios​ genre​: fake marriage!au, enemies2lovers, angst, smut, humor, slow burn

summary​: desperate to get your ailing mother into the best care possible, you ask your childhood friend turned enemy to marry you for his health insurance benefits, the only problem is it’s illegal, and he’s the sheriff. and you swore to hate him since the day he broke your best friend’s heart.

one shot, two shot, ​series (COMPLETED) 

“inkling” by @gguksgalaxy​ genre​: smut, angst, tattoo artist!jjk

summary​: jeongguk is your brother’s boyfriend’s co-worker, they own a tattoo and piercing parlor. in other words, he’s tall, gorgeous, has his passion literally etched into his skin, looks incredibly good in a man-bun, and is semi-unattainable for you. why? well, you’re not entirely sure but him ditching you after a very heated makeout session sure isn’t a good sign. his extremely poor mood the next week sure isn’t either, but the only way to fix it is to face the beast head-on...right?

one shot​, two shot, series

“bandslam 1″ by @ironicarmy​ genre​: drummer!jjk, gutarist!oc, angst, smut, rock band!au

summary​: cocky drummer jeon jeongguk has never been the type to hate anyone, but when his best friend taehyung unexpectedly leaves the band and leaves you in his place, he can’t really blame himself when he acts disdain towards you. not even when there’s a prize at stake.

one shot, two shot, ​series (IN PROGRESS)

“the phantom knight” by @lil-meow-meow-goes-rawr​

genre​: medieval!jjk, angst, action, dragon!jjk, fantasy!au

summary​: legend speaks of a fearless knight... a knight so strong he could move mountains, sent to protect us from the terror of the moon dragon. before the reign of kim namjoon began, before peace was formed between the nations, the moon dragon reigned over them all. terrorizing the kingdoms with a ruthless vengeance. vengeance for the extinction of its own kind. a vendetta which only the phantom knight could stop.

one shot, two shot, ​series (IN PROGRESS)

“one time, in your room” by @ubemango​

genre​: college!au, smut

summary​: there are papers to write, and virgins to daydream about. (you can think about jeongguk’s dick later.)

one shot, two shot, ​series

“frost impressions” by @fortunexkookie​ genre​: teacher!au, gamer!au, smut, angst, enemies2lovers

summary​: jeongguk is so disgustingly smitten with his new coworker that he ends up making a terrible first impression, and neither of them realize they’ve actually been in love with each other for the better part of a decade.

one shot​, two shot, series

“melomaniac” by @jeonscript​ genre​: band!au, punk!jjk, friends2lovers, smut, angsty fluff

summary​: you’re wholeheartedly, madly in love with jeongguk and yet you know you shouldn’t be because he’s your best friend and nothing more. worst part of it all is that you know he’s in love with you too.

one shot​, two shot, series

“worshippers of the sea” by ​@jimlingss​

genre​: pirate!au, mermaid!au, angst, fluff

summary​: you are the greatest pirate to set sail across the ocean and self-proclaimed ruler of the ocean. but when the true god of the sea catches wind of your hubris, he punishes you - taking your legs and turning it into a tail.

one shot​, two shot, series

“the burning flame” by ​@bangtanfanfiction​ genre​: fantasy!au, angst, action, fluff, dragon rider!oc/jjk

summary​: you’re sent as a scout from the academy into enemy territory, tasked with the mission to make sure the king doesn’t unleash another war on the four nations. during your quest, you get tangled up with a lone rider, as stubborn and hard as the scales of his dragon.

one shot​, two shot, series

“bitchin” by @kinktae​ genre​: 1980s!au, angst, smut, idiots2lovers, fluff, humor

summary​: the 80s were a time of choices. which perm was right for you? what color of neon would you wear next? none of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with jeon jeongguk.

one shot, two shot, series (IN PROGRESS) 

“moirai” by @taeken-my-heart​

genre: soulmate!au, angst, smut, fluff, enemies2lovers

summary: on your 18th birthday a name appears on your wrist. the name of your soulmate. it’s a momentous day that everyone looks forward to, but you’ve always brush aside; refusing to believe in a fickle mistress called destiny. but what happens when on the morning of your 18th birthday you wake up to find the name of your mortal enemy jeon jeongguk?

one shot, two shot, series (IN PROGRESS) 

“concentric” by ​@gingerpeachtae​ genre​: fantasy!au, angst, fluff, enemies2lovers. smut

summary​: you had been ready for the end of the semester. you had been ready to spend time away from your best friend, park jimin, and finally move on from the feelings you harbored. yet, after your friend was forced to reveal a secret, you found yourself in a new world that was full of magic, war, and wonder. so, here you were, basically thrown into your own fantasy novel, with your best friend on one side, and six male warriors on the other.

one shot, two shot, ​series (IN PROGRESS)

“more than words” by @ironicarmy​ genre: best friends!au, smut, fluff, angst, humor

summary: you & namjoon have been painfully (and blindingly) pining for each other since your teenage years, much to your friends’ chagrin. so, unbeknownst to both of you, seokjin and the rest plan to finally make you confess during a ski trip.

one shot, two shot, series

“try me” by @jjkfire​ genre​: fluff, slight angst, idiots to lovers, college!au, rugby!au

summary​: you wanted nothing more than to leave behind your old self when you graduated from high school and moved on to college to play rugby, but when you see your high school classmate, resident fuckboy and captain, kim namjoon, at the rugby department orientation, you feel like everything might fall apart.

one shot​, two shot, series

“all you knead is love” by ​@loveejoon​ genre​: baker!oc, apprentice!joonie, fluff, minimal angst

summary​: stumbling upon a help wanted sign and desperately needing a job, namjoon walks into your small bakery shop, after tasting your bread and ​god​, how it melted in his mouth, he insisted on being your assistant, you wholeheartedly agreed, not realizing the dimpled man was a klutz, and that’s the ​nicest​ way you could put it.

one shot​, two shot, series

“bloom” by​​ @hobidreams​ genre​: assassin!reader, florist!joonie, smut, action, angst, some fluff

summary​: family is who you kill for, who you die for. in this society, you and your kin are shadows, clinging to the darkness to obey orders absolute. but when such orders command you abandon what little honor remains for wealth and notoriety, you find yourself lost in lonely uncertainty about the only vocation you’ve ever known. that is, until you meet a man with gentle hands, a poet’s heart, and a love for coaxing the world into ​bloom.​

one shot​, two shot, series

“beastly gods” by @lemonjoonah​ genre​: hybrid!au, drama, thriller, smut, angst

summary​: “​don’t leave the forest​,” a rule that you’ve been forced to follow since birth, but you are tired of living in this wooden cage. out of desperation you cut a deal with taehyung, who claims to be the only one who can get you out safely, even though he might be just as dangerous as the god you’re trying to escape.

one shot​, two shot, series

~ hi! if you made it this far down the post i would like to thank both @jjkfire​ and @gingerpeachtae​ for being so kind & helping me recover this masterlist. Please be sure to check out the works of these amazing angels!! 

#bts fic recs #bts jjk #bts taehyung #bts namjoon #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #taehyung angst #taehyung imagine #namjoon angst #namjoon imagine #namjoon smut #namjoon fic rec #taehyung fic rec #jungkook fic rec #Jungkook Fanfiction #taehyung fanfic #namjoon fanfic

[copias-thrall]

Cause I'm Young and I'm Here and So Beautiful

A look into the rise and fall of Mary Goore's flash-in-the-pan modeling career.

~12.5K Mary Goore/Reader *drug/alcohol use; mentions of past child abuse; brief homelessness; plot no porn; POV shift*

This fic was inspired by and is very loosely based on Aurelio Voltaire's early days in NYC in the 90s, though I have set it in Boston in the early aughts. 😊

Many thanks to the artists who did commissions for this! 🥰

One Way Streets

Mary stepped off the regional rail and gripped his backpack. He had $72.57 in cash rolled into his socks and a give-em-hell attitude.

When he’d packed his bag the night before, he wasn’t even sure if he’d go through with it, but he couldn’t stand being home anymore. Some of his friends had told him he was crazy.

"Three more months, dude. You got this. Just finish high school, then bounce."

But they didn’t have to live with his dad and the step-monster. Every day was a new indignity. Having them bitch about his music and his style was one thing—that he could have dealt with—but everything else had just kind of…escalated.

Now that the kiddies were older, they’d turned into gremlins. They’d somehow sensed that Mary wasn’t their beloved older brother—he was some sort of half other. They’d stopped questioning why "mom was so mean" to him and had accepted that she was because there was something wrong with Mary. They realized they could be little shits and blame everything on him.

And dad just didn’t care. He’d throw up his hands and say, "I have to live with her"—as if Mary wasn’t in the same boat.

Dad hadn’t stopped her when—in a rage—she’d smashed every single vinyl album Mary had owned because the twins ruined her nice tablecloth. He’d shrugged when she cut all Mary's guitar strings so he couldn’t play "the devil’s music." He’d held Mary back when she took a match and burned all his secret stuff that Mary kept under his bed—action figures, books, guitar mags, journals—in the backyard because he got detention for smoking. He hadn’t said a word when the police showed up after she came at Mary with scissors because he’d dyed his hair black and he’d pushed her away before she could scalp him.

Mary thought for sure he was going to get carted off to jail as she screamed about him terrorizing the family and being afraid he was going to kill her sons in their sleep, but the officers had just looked at her bored and told her being a teenager wasn’t a crime.

So, no: Mary couldn’t wait 3 more months.

He’d scraped together what money he had left from his secret shifts working as a busboy under the table at a local dive downtown, packed his backpack with the essentials, and walked the 5 miles to the train station instead of going to school.

Eighteen was 10 weeks away. He could fudge it for a few months, especially since he could already get away without using his fake ID to get into shows most of the time.

So, to the big city it was.

He shifted his weight and tried to pretend that he belonged here in Boston, but actually facing the busy streets was a lot different from looking at a bird’s-eye view map. He had a printout in his pocket, but he didn’t want to look like a doe-eyed tourist. So he set off down the seemingly labyrinthine streets in the direction he could have sworn was the correct one.

It wasn't.

When he came out a side alley into Faneuil Hall, he almost wondered if he'd gone through a fairy portal, since he was clear on the other side of town. Begrudgingly, he checked his creased map, and set out once more.

And ended up spit out by the State building.

Finding the hostel turned into a fraught adventure, and he got turned around several times more. When he tried to ask for directions, most people pushed past him while one lady shoved $5 at him. He used the cash to buy a hotdog, and it was the vendor who ultimately gave him directions in his thick, Southie accent.

Of course, making it to the hostel ended up being just part one. The rates were almost double what it stated online ("Sorry, honey—that site hasn’t been upgraded since the 90s."), and two nights were practically all his savings. Mary had thought he’d at least have a couple of days to find a job, not 36hrs.

He left the hostel, wondering for the first time if maybe he shouldn’t go back home…but he decided it was a nice day out. Surely there was some place he could hunker down. Just for the night.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the cops at every fucking turn telling him to move along. And any place out of line-of-sight seemed to already be inhabited.

He finally found a place behind some rocks in the Seaport where he didn’t think he’d be murdered in his sleep, curled around his backpack, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Mary woke up damp from the dew and the morning sun streaming into his eyes. The birds were creating an awful racket, but Mary guessed it was as good an alarm clock as any.

He ran his fingers through his bird's nest of hair, and he made his way back to the South Station. The men’s room may have smelled like a sewage treatment plant, but at least it was free. He had expected it to be mostly empty at the crack of dawn, but it was full of commuters making that last run to the head before they had to take the train 2hrs out of the city for work.

And it was a sight: a bunch of suits with their fancy lattes washing their hands, and Mary in the corner trying to surreptitiously wipe down with paper towels under his Misfits t-shirt and his shredded jeans. At school, he’d have probably gotten into several altercations by now—no one would have let him just turn into Mary Goore without a fight—but this was Boston, and no one gave him more than a cursory glance.

Just another college kid.

It emboldened Mary to go full-out in the kind of way he had only done when going out to the punk shows downtown at night: kohl all the way around his eyes, and some on his cheekbones; mascara because his lashes are long and thick, and he knows it (his dad had said it made him look hard, and Mary had sneered that maybe that was what he’d been going for. But maybe it had been because he’d liked the way it had made his green eyes pop.); a smear of the step-monster’s fanciest matte lipstick on his full lips; and airplane glue in his hair to give it that lift.

He made a kissy face at himself in the mirror, and headed back out.

It was a nice Spring day—almost boiling in the direct sun—and it tempted Mary to wear only his battle vest, but even he kind of figured applying to jobs half dressed was a mistake.

He walked all over the city, trying not to get lost, looking for any kind of work—dishwasher, busboy, barback—but all he had to show for it was blistered feet and a raging appetite. The only good part of the day was that he noted any restaurant or bakery that looked like it might toss perfectly good food at the end of the day.

He and his friends had become experts at dumpster diving in his podunk town, and he felt confident that he had a good feel for a jackpot. Mary staked out a bakery and was rewarded with a find of "old" bagels. He shoved as many as he could into the nooks and crannies of his backpack before slinking off to the Commons to inhale at least two of them.

Cold, stale dough never tasted so good.

He watched the tourists and the professionals walk by in ones and in groups while he ran his bare feet through the grass. Some laughed with each other as they sauntered down the path while others seemed singularly intent on their ultimate destination. A pack of dogs ran and played with each other as their owners looked on fondly, and nearby the baseball diamond hosted a casual game.

Mary counted his lucky stars that his first week in Boston was April at its kindest—always mild during the day, even when it turned cloudy, and a few times even downright warm. The nights turned chilly, though, and it had Mary in more layers than an onion. If the birds or damp didn't wake him, his butt cramps from being curled in a tight ball all night did.

He spent those days walking around the city proper looking for work. He wasn't adventurous enough to make the leap across the bridges to Cambridge just yet, but his travels gave him a good sense on how the different sections of Boston connected—and showed him potential places to crash at night. He didn't even mind living off day-old garbage food and drinking from bubblers (he'd bought a water for the express purpose of reusing the bottle), but the barren wasteland that seemed to be the job market was beginning to weigh on him.

At home, he could always find a shit job if he was willing to put up with shit hours and ridiculous requests. Here, though, Mary was just one of many desperate people willing to do desperate work.

And he didn’t look particularly trustworthy or reliable.

@dipendancesld

Hashtag WTF

I’m scrolling through Insta on the T, and I’m way down the rabbit hole of hashtags. New content was at a minimum this morning (how can I follow accounts in triple digits and only see the same 4 posts?!), so I’d started with some art tags and ended up where I usually end up—trolling social media for blurry pictures of my boy.

His band has been a local staple for years—or at least that’s what he told me on our first date. I had just moved from New York after a nasty breakup, ready to start fresh, and I’d seen him at a coffee shop hanging posters for his next show in his leather jacket, asymmetrical Metallica crop top, and stomping boots.

Fresh had never looked so good.

Then, a few months back, an online publication had featured his band in the year’s 50 best bands "you’ve never heard of," and now the band's starting to gain traction.

He’s starting to gain traction.

Finding the new online content of him first has become a game the two of us play. We had to stop counting images posted from the popular fan accounts because Mary's now acquaintances with most of them, and I said it was hardly fair to snipe me that way. Mary had pouted—but it was to cover up his grin. So now we troll for the pictures of his latest gig or at his favorite haunts from either his  casual fans or one of his new ones. I even have a whole range of hashtag typos saved if I really want to triumph, since Mary just doesn't have the attention span.

I usually win, though, by virtue of not keeping Rockstar Hours—and because Mary doesn’t have a smartphone. Mary delights in spending the wee hours while I'm sleeping finding new content, and I'll often wake to one he's pulled up on my laptop and a "suck it" sticky note stuck to my monitor.

(But I’m reigning supreme.)

There’s a thirst tag I sometimes comb through (for reasons), and today I’m desperate for that morning serotonin to keep me from dozing off, which is why I stumble across a particularly convincing cosplayer in some…risqué poses and outfits.

The dude is really good, and I have to admit he really does have Mary’s mannerisms down pat. He’s younger and a little skinnier than Mary is now, but his facial expressions are on point. I zoom in to see the contouring technique because he's using one of those filters to make it look old…and that’s when I sense something off. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but usually there’s an uncanny valley to his serious cosplayers, and this dude looks so real. He’s even 100% accurate with the mole placement, which is something I never see.

My heart does a flip-flop.

Is that…actually Mary?

Foundling

Mary's sixth night in the city, it rained. It was more of a brief Spring shower, but it was still enough to soak him and his backpack through. He shivered through the early morning hours until the sun came up, then he made his way to the Commons to lay his belongings—and himself—out into the sun to dry.

By midday, he had a slight sunburn across his nose, but most of his things were dryish—though the food was a soggy lost cause. He cut his losses and decided to buy a sausage from the hotdog vendor, even if that meant he was down to $52.37 in his sock bank.

It was the most amazing thing he'd ever eaten in his entire life (sometimes he still dreams of it), and he gobbled it down as he sat in the grass and watched the show of people pass by.

He could take today off from his job search.

Just another Groundhog Day of rejections.

A gaggle of kids about his age walked past, and he lit up when he saw them: studs and bright hair and cuffs and combat boots. They ran and shrieked and shoved at each other, and Mary had never felt such longing to be a part of something.

Not that nebulous feeling of "my world is out there somewhere," but "my world is right there if I can just get to it."

And he realized maybe he could.

These were his people.

Mary hopped off the bench and approached the boisterous group.

"Uh, hey…guys."

The pack stopped and looked him over, confused but not hostile.

"Oh hey, man" said a girl with green fins and a studded, leather jacket.

"Hey."

I have nowhere to go. Can I go with you?

"Sorry, I forgot your name."

"Oh, you don’t—"

A guy in a tight striped shirt, snake bites, and blue hair interrupted him.

"Shit, were you in my intro into film class last year?"

Mary was a high school dropout.

"Nah, dude. I’m new and shit."

…But he wasn’t stupid.

A curvy white goth with bleached blonde hair and a cream princess dress smiled at him.

"Aww, that’s rough, honey. If you think about it, they really ought to give transfers on-campus housing. It sucks to be so new and away from the action."

Mary nodded. "Yeah. Sucks."

"Well, we’re going to The Pit, wanna come?"

"If you guys don’t mind…"

"Fuck, the more the merrier!"

Mary smiled as they assimilated him into the group. He found out the goth’s name was Vanessa ("But call me Vanity."), green fins was Alexa ("Or Alex. I’m trying it out."), striped shirt was Billy, and the two other punks were Mandi (Manic Panic red) and Aaron (band tee, spiked collar).

No one laughed at him when he introduced himself as Mary or asked him why he had a girl’s name.

They took him onto the T at Charles MGH, and Mary marveled at the setting sun over the Charles River before the train ducked underground to barrel in Cambridge. At Harvard, they ushered him off the train and directly into The Pit, and Mary almost cried when he saw the pit rats there playing hacky sack, strumming guitars, and smoking cloves. Mary watched as his group high-fived, bumped chests, and hugged nearly everyone there before introducing him as if they’d known him for years.

He was shit at hacky sack, but he accepted a round on the guitar and shared a clove with a white girl who had a rat's nest of hair.

"Fuck their beauty stands," she said when she caught Mary staring.

Mary smiled and pointed to his own mess of hair. "Fuck ‘em," he repeated.

She cackled and handed him a brown bag with what he expected to be whiskey, but tasted like turpentine.

She laughed harder at his face as he coughed, and she pounded him on the back.

"Moonshine, dude. Lenny makes it in his bathtub."

"Which one is Lenny," Mary asked as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oh, he’s not here. He goes to MIT. We have a strict trade agreement—booze for pot. I’m Katie."

Head fuzzy, Mary had made out with her until Aaron tugged on his arm.

"Shit dude, we gotta go before the T closes. You live close to here?"

"Uh…"

"Aww, I think he got into Lenny’s moonshine," said Vanity. "If he’s a transfer, I bet he’s at some shithole in Allston. You in Allston, honey?"

Mary just nodded.

"All right then," said Alex, taking charge. "We’ll put him up tonight. There’s no way he’s gonna make it back to Allston by himself, and I’ll be fucked if I’m trekking out there without a BU party to crash."

Mary wobbled slightly as Alex took his arm in his and led him to the T.

"Ok, we gotta go now or we’ll all be hoofing it."

They took Mary back to their dorm by the Hatch Shell and signed him in as a guest.

"Is this ok?" Mary asked warily—he didn't want to get kicked out in the middle of the night.

Mandi patted him on the back.

"We do it all time. No one really gives a shit. Vegan Mick dropped out 2 semesters ago and they don’t even check for his ID."

That night, Mary slept in the common room on a lumpy couch that was half as long as he was.

It was heaven.

The next morning seemed like the end, and Mary slumped as Vanity to sign him out. For one brief day he'd been a part of something, and now it was back to Mary, party of one. But Vanity took one look at his face and asked if he wanted to get breakfast at the dining hall.

Of course, he wanted to…but he thought of the dwindling cash in sock bank and hesitated. Vanity, bless her, misread his trepidation.

"It's on me, sweetie. I know most transfers don’t opt in. Too expensive when it’s not bundled. No worries, I got a ton of points I don’t use."

Alex and Aaron were already half done with their food when Vanity and he joined them, and they looked on in amusement as Mary ate half the breakfast buffet.

When the subject of classes came up, he shrugged off questions.

"None this morning."

Alex narrowed her eyes at him.

"What year did you say you were?"

"Sophomore."

"Not a freshman?"

Mary shook his head. "I’m not a freshman."

She seemed about to ask another question, so Mary quickly changed the subject.

"I thought I’d spend the day applying for jobs. You guys know of any place that’s hiring?"

"No work study?"

"No."

"What kind of work you looking for?"

"Shit, anything. I’ll sweep the fucking floors."

They bandied about ideas, places for Mary to try, but no one had any leads. Too soon, some unknown gong had them scurrying to get to class.

Mary suddenly panicked.

"Hey, do you guys mind if I spend the night again? I mean…"

"Yeah, sure," said Vanity. "Aaron?"

"Yeah, man. Meet me after class and I'll swipe you in."

It apparently was a time-honored tradition, passed down from upperclassmen to underclassmen, on gaming the guest system. Most kids used it to essentially move their significant others into their dorm rooms, but a handful every year used it to give haven to others who had questionable housing situations.

So, just like that, Mary had a place to rest his bones.

@dilfpassing

A Deeper Look

I’m so intent on scrolling through the comments on the grainy pics—which I'm sure now are actual scans—that I completely miss my stop, and I have to put my phone away so I can wheeze lightly jog my way to where I work as a receptionist at an alternative hair salon.

It’s really important that I start a good hour before we open so I can return any calls left on our voicemail first thing in case I can fit anyone in today. Which means I have to shelve my find for now, much to my irritation.

Mornings are super-busy because apparently there are some people in the world that like getting up with the sun and want everything done by noon. (June Cleaver’s salon lets me get away with a lot—like coming to work in denim short-shorts and ripped tights, free hair colors, and a snarky attitude—but late start times aren’t one of them.) I honestly don’t have room in my brain to obsess about the pictures because I’m too busy answering calls, making coffee, settling accounts, and giving the new customer spiel for the 57th time to a walk-in.

It’s just after midday, when Penny, the shampoo girl, collects my cash for the salon-wide sandwich run, and I finally have a moment to breathe. And obsess.

I take out my phone again, and I have to retrace my steps because of course the app has refreshed, which is why Sonia has the time to look over my shoulder.

"Missing dream boy’s dick so much you gotta spend your lunch hour ogling pics of him on the internet?"

I zoom in on the one of maybe!Mary in his underwear.

"Who does that look like to you?"

Sonia makes a guh sound in her throat and backs away.

"I don’t need to see your intimates!"

"That’s the thing! It’s not mine!"

"Your boy’s nudes get leaked??"

I wave my arms around.

"I don’t freakin’ know! They may not even be him. Fucking. C’mere and help me out!"

Sonia warily creeps back over, and so does Ryan, since all the yelling has attracted him.

The three of us peer over the phone as I scroll through the images again.

By the time Penny comes back with lunch, we’ve gone back and forth on who’s in the images—Mary or a fake—and I haven’t been able to do any actual research. The afternoon rush starts, and I have to table the whole thing again, having made no progress at all.

It isn’t until near-closing, when most of the other stylists have gone home—and it’s only June who does the post-work crowd—that I can really dig into the matter.

A deep dive and a couple of defunct, decade-old forums later, I find that what I took as an aspirational hashtag was actually the name of a zine called "Heroes."

There’s like, zero online trail about it—except for a few other grainy scans of other pages of articles, poetry, concert pictures, and art—but it seemed to be an early aughts missive for local underground culture and color.

It still doesn’t explain why Mary’s in there in various states of undress and poses.

Or why Mary has never said a word about it to me.

Stripped Bare

Mary settled into a sort of routine. He spent most days looking for a job—any job—with his backpack full of food from their dining hall. Most nights he rotated couches on different floors so the RAs didn’t notice that he basically lived there.

He made friends with Vegan Mick for about 5 seconds until Mary had eaten an entire Rotisserie chicken from 7-11 in front of him. Mick had launched into a whole spiel, and Mary had pointed out that Mick's jacket and Docs were made of leather. He’d only meant it as a joke—a callout in answer to a callout, like he'd do with his friends back home—but Vegan Mick had turned purple, then iced Mary out every time he saw him after that.

Oops.

The brief friendship had lasted long enough, however, for Mick to give Mary some tips and tricks of being homeless.

Homeless.

That had been a tough pill to swallow. Until Vegan Mick had put Mary’s situation like that, Mary had just thought of himself between places.

But it was true: he didn’t live anywhere. He skated by on the kindness of his new friends, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the ruse of "transfer student who didn’t like his shithole apartment and was too busy job searching to concentrate on classes."

He still spent a few nights a week finding an out-of-the-way place outside to hunker down in or huddling in with Katie and a few of the other gutter punks under their boxes in the corners of the T stations. He knew they would have been more than happy to make room, anyway, but Mary always emptied his backpack of all the pilfered dining hall food for distribution amongst them.

It honestly wasn't so terrible now that he had friends and a warm place to go on cold or rainy nights, but.

He needed an actual place to live. To afford an actual place to live, he needed a job. To get a job, he needed a place to live.

It seemed like a catch-22, and he began to despair that he’d never get ahead…until Mandi offered him a leg up.

Mary was sitting on the grass in the Commons in the shade, thinking that with summer coming up, maybe he could fudge it until the gang came back in September. There was always Katie and The Pit, and Mary was sure he could chip in somehow.

Mandi sat down next to him.

"I thought that mess of hair was you, Mare."

"Hey, Mandi. What’s kicks?"

"You still looking for a job?"

Mary put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Don’t remind me."

"You over 18?"

Just last week. But Mary hadn’t said, since they thought he was a Sophomore.

"Yeah."

"Wanna be at least 21?"

Mary grinned at her.

"That’s what my fake ID says."

She laughed, a tinkling thing.

"You got anything against strip clubs?"

Mary furrowed his brows at her.

"Uh…what’s the right answer here?"

She shoved him playfully.

"Do you want a job?"

"Yeah?"

"Then say no."

"No. No problems with strip clubs." He squinted at her. "Are they looking for male strippers?"

She laughed again.

"Definitely not." She canted her head at Mary. "I mean, you're very pretty, Mare. I could probably put you on as one of the girls…even with these triple As," she flicked playfully at his nipple, which had him grunting and batting at her, "but I was thinking more behind the scenes."

Mary held up his arm and made a weak muscle.

"I don’t think I’d be much of a bouncer, Mands."

"You said you’d wash dishes, sweep floors and shit, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the club I work at—"

"The club at you what now?"

Mandi gave him a strange look.

"Yeah. The strip club I work at."

Mary’s eyes bugged out.

"As a…waitress?"

"As a stripper, Mary. Duh." At his dumbfounded look she shook her head. "It’s kind of extra credit, as a dance major. I’m going to turn it into my thesis. Plus, I make hella bank."

She swept her arm across the park that made up her college "campus."

"How else do you think I can afford this rock-and-roll lifestyle? Not all of us are here on scholarship or mom and dad’s dime."

She tilted her head at him.

"I thought you’d get it."

When Mary didn't respond, she touched his shoulder.

"Mare. I know you don't go here."

"W-what…? I…"

He looked at her, wide-eyed as the blood drained from his face.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not gonna tell anybody. Not if you don't want me to."

Mary looked down. "Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You know that means I've got no address."

Mandi bumped his shoulder and waved his words away.

"A lot of the girls dance. Paddy is used to dorm rooms as addresses. You can use mine."

Mary looked at her, hoping he could convey every ounce of gratitude he was feeling.

She grinned and punched him in the shoulder.

"So, you up for it? Sweeping floors and bussing tables?" She leveled a look at him. "Cleaning up puke?"

Anything.

"Fuck, I’m desperate, Mands. I’ll hold their hair back if it means a paycheck."

"That’s the spirit!"

***

Mary was sure Patrick was part of the mob—or at least in cahoots. The guy had taken one look at Mary’s ID and had said, "But how old are you really?" and Mary had said, "Nineteen."

Patrick had thrown up his hands. "Well, you ain’t gonna be serving alcohol anyway, kid. Your job is to do whatever I tell you. Some asshole breaks a bottle, you clean up the glass so the girls don’t hurt themselves. Some idiot ralphs all over the toilet seat, you scrub the shit out of that fucker. A bachelor party leaves a table a hot mess, you better be out there clearing off the table for the next one, got it?"

Mary had nodded.

"You show up at 5 to help the girls set up the bar. You stay til whenever it takes to close down—but you only get paid 'til 2am—and you get an hour to eat, unpaid. You don’t bother the girls, and," Patrick had leaned in, "you don’t steal from me."

Mary had gulped and nodded emphatically.

Patrick had jabbed a finger at him. "That includes the booze. If I get fucked because some snot-nosed, underage kid is drinking with my good friends Jim and Johnnie, I’m gonna be very put out."

"Got it, sir."

"Don’t call me sir. I’m Paddy to my friends, so you can call me Patrick."

"Yes, Patrick."

Patrick had looked him over.

"You get paid as an independent contractor just like the girls, so you gotta deal with your own taxes, you got that? I’ll start you at $10 an hour."

Mary’s eyes had gone wide. Back home he was lucky to get 5.

"Ten…?"

Patrick had tilted his head again.

"No, you’re right, 12. Do a good job, and I’ll think about raising it to 15."

Mary had to physically stop his jaw from dropping.

"You do weeknights for now so if you fuck up it’s not that much of a problem. If you don’t fuck up and the girls don’t hate you, you can get weekends. Deal?"

Mary had sat up straighter. "Deal." He’d held his hand out, but Patrick had just looked at it until Mary pulled it back into his side.

"Ariel vouched for you, so I’m giving you a shot. Don’t make her regret it."

Mary had shaken his head as Patrick had handed him some forms to fill out.

"Come back at 4 tomorrow with these and we’ll get you started. Now, get out, I got shit to do."

Mary had taken the forms and skedaddled.

Mandi was outside waiting for him, all smiles.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, but fuck—your boss is scary."

"Nah, he’s a teddy bear."

***

The job was awful.

The puke was an almost nightly occurrence, and by the end of the first week, little cuts covered Mary’s hands from the broken glass. The customers were loud, rowdy, and acted as if their mother was going to clean up after them.

Mary swore he would never get the beer smell out. It now lived in his soul.

One dude punched Mary and broke his nose for no reason Mary could tell before the bouncers dragged the guy away. The girls gave him some tampons to stop the bleeding, and Mary finished his shift.

Patrick paid Mary in cash at the end of every week with a "It’s your job to report that, not mine," and at the end of the month, Patrick bumped Mary up to $15/hr. He worked 5 days a week because, according to Patrick, "The Lord gave us a day of rest, and you get one day off per week."

Mary never reported a single cent to the IRS.

The girls loved him, and joked that Patrick had gotten them a pet. They showed him winged eyeliner and smokey eyes and how to contour. They guffawed when they watched him try out their shoes like a newborn deer. On slow nights, they tried to show him pole techniques.

He saw the gang less and less because by the time they were getting out of class, he was going into work, and when he was done work, they were crawling into bed. Fortunately, the desk sitters seemed to forget that he wasn’t an on-campus "student" and didn’t even bother signing him in anymore. There were a few sticklers, but Mary found that—while back home he was less than scum—here, he attracted all the right kinds of attention…and a smirk with the right compliment went a long way.

By the time their school year ended, Mary had saved up $1,000 (and he needed to transfer his money out of sock bank and into the ripped lining of his jacket).

Even though they didn't know just how much they'd saved him, Mary showed up on the last day as thanks to help them all move their stuff into family cars or rented trucks. They hugged him goodbye and said to ring them next semester.

Mandi bopped him on the nose and told him to keep his nose clean.

Mary took a sublet in Allston with 2 BU kids and a Berkley grad student. The "room" was a closed-in porch with a sleeping bag left by the last resident—but it was $400 a month until September, utilities included.

At first, Mary didn't know why the gang was so snobby about Allston, but the summer seemed to be one continual party. It didn't matter what day Mary got up, there were always broken beer bottles and stale beer on their front stoop, and the apartment had a designated watering can for washing away the vomit that dripped down from the top porches to their own.

But he took it in stride, and when he wasn’t at the strip club or sleeping, he was partying with the BU kids, or letting the Berkley grad show him better string fingering techniques.

Mary still tried to get out to The Pit with what groceries he could spare, but Katie had moved on with some of the others to do a protest tour with an activist street band that had come through town, and without her or the gang, it made Mary feel lonely.

By the end of the summer, Mary had saved up enough money for first, last, and security. He even had some left over to buy more than ramen and some new clothes. To Mary, it felt like a million dollars. He rented a garden-level apartment in the cheap part of Jamaica Plain for September 1st and spent that entire day with the BU dudes driving around in their rented truck for Allston Christmas’s best furniture finds.

Mary ended up with a mattress that he hoped on a wish and a prayer didn’t have bedbugs, a mismatched set of dishes, plastic drawers that were slightly warped, and a broken futon frame he swore he would fix. Throw in a few sets of slightly used string lights, and Mary’s cave felt downright homey.

When the gang got back, he simply told them he’d dropped out.

"Yeah, I just don’t think college is for me. Music’s my real passion, you know?"

Alex had groaned.

"I knew that Berkley kid was gonna be a bad influence on you."

Mary shrugged.

"My grades were shit anyway. But I’m still around, you know. The strip club’s only a block from campus."

"Because we saw you so much then," deadpanned Billy.

"Hey! Stop piling on Mary," said Vanity. "He’s following his path."

Mary shot her a wide smile.

"Thanks, Vanity."

Patrick finally gave him a little more leeway with his days off, and Mary started taking Saturday night to join the gang in Harvard Square for the shadow cast of Rocky Horror. One of Aaron’s classmates, Amber, was in it, and they all wanted to support her.

Mary felt that something again. That thing that told that this was his place and his people. This eclectic group who got up in front of strangers every week in their underwear for free enthralled Mary.

He and Amber bonded immediately, and Mary began going even without the gang. The cast welcomed him in as an honorary groupie, and Mary's friendship with the gang waned. There was still Mandi to cavort with at the strip club, but now when Mary wasn't there, he was at any one of the Rocky crew's apartments getting high and playing dress up.

"You’ve got such a Look, Mare," sighed Amber. "I’d kill for your cheekbones."

"I’d kill for your tits."

She slapped him playfully. "Don’t be gross."

"No, I’m serious. Someone once put it in my head that I'd be a hot chick."

The girls had giggled and proceeded to dress him up in bras and corsets with cutlets. They added a wig, and the glo-up surprised even Mary.

Still buzzed, they went out for girl’s night and hit up all the bars in Fenway and flirted their way to free shots from the dude bros before batting their falsies at bouncers to let them into the clubs ahead of the line and without the cover.

The cutlets eventually became a nuisance—and soon they were all flapping them about above their heads as they danced—but Mary had loved the feel of the lace and satin corsets against his skin.

When they’d all collapsed in a pile at the end of the night, Mary wondered if they’d tell him where to get some lingerie for himself.

***

By August, Mary was ready to quit the strip club.

He was tired of cut fingers (they were making it hard to play the guitar he’d bought), the drunks, and the sick everywhere. Now that he had a little cushion, he thought maybe he could at least find something with better hours.

Mandi had graduated and was well into a summer internship at Disney in hopes they’d bring her on as a dancer.

Alex had also graduated and moved out to LA to make it as a film editor.

Vanity and Aaron had started dating after finals, and they had moved in together in Cambridgeport for their last year.

Billy had stopped going to classes before dropping out altogether. No one seemed to know what happened, and when they called his home, his mother just said he was unavailable.

There didn’t seem to be much reason to stick around the Grid anymore, and it was a bitch of a commute back to his place if he wasn’t going to hang out with the Rocky crew. He landed a job at a record store that was walking distance to his apartment.

Patrick seemed surprisingly sad to see him go, saying, "Ah, the good ones smart up," and gave him a $500 bonus for not "fucking up."

Tim, one of the older Rocky people, turned out to not live too far from him, and when Mary started hanging out there, so did the party.

Now that Mary was no longer shackled by the strip club’s hours, his world opened a few more degrees. He spent his nights dressing up while he watched the cast rehearse. (When he showed them a move or two he learned from the women at the club, they tried to get him to do a guest star as Frank. But Mary had shaken his head and said that wasn’t the kind of performing he wanted to do.)

When they weren't rehearsing, they dragged Mary to TT The Bear’s, The Middle East, and The Milky Way Lounge for underground shows. They took him to fetish night at ManRay after a trip to Hubba Hubba for pleather and lingerie, and Mary made a lot of new friends.

Sometimes, Mary would show up to work straight off a night out in his club clothes, eyeliner smudged and lipstick smeared. It should have got him fired, but his boss just shrugged.

"I used to keep rockstar hours too."

Mary still wore all his old vestiges—his battle vest and his ripped jeans—it was just that now he sometimes added a corset and heels.

Wherever Katie was now, he hoped she knew he was still fucking their beauty standards.

ry.omen Insta

Answer Me This

I practically vibrate the entire way back to our place. I'm still trying to wring information out of the internet like it's too-wet clothes, but the only thing I accomplish is making myself motion sick on the bus, so I put my phone back in my pocket and breath through my nose.

When I get home, Mary is sprawled across the couch in his pjs with various limbs hanging over sides and edges as he watches some extreme sport show on my laptop.

I wonder if he just got up, but I see the start of dinner on the stove, so I decide not to snark at him.

"Hey," he says without looking up.

I am, however, gonna need some answers on "Heroes."

I gently close the laptop, and he meets my eyes.

"What?"

I climb onto the couch, and Mary’s limbs recede like vines to make room for me as I scroll through my phone to my photo app where I’ve saved screenshots.

"Lucy," I say in a terrible accent, "you have some ‘splaining to do!"

Mary squints at me and takes my phone, his expression morphing into one of surprise.

"Shit, babe. Where’d ya find these??"

"So they are you!"

He chuckles.

"Christ…I haven't thought about these in fucking years."

"Mind telling me what the fuck?" I ask, my hands on my hips.

I'm only half joking.

Mary grimaces at me.

"Ah."

"I'm gonna need more than that, mister."

He rubs the back of his neck.

"Fuck, you know those were hard times for me."

I know about his family, the homelessness. I know he tried out a lot until he found a life that fit. He'd given me the overviews with occasional anecdotes filled with names I never remembered.

But none of them included naughty pictures.

I worm my way under his arm.

"Yeah, I know, Mare."

His hand strokes down my arm.

"I mean, shit. I was kinda an asshole, you know?"

I wrap an arm around his chest.

"You're still kind of an asshole, Goore."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

When he doesn't say more, I poke him hard in the side.

"I’m literally dying here."

He laughs a little.

"Fine. But you gotta remember you asked."

Model Behavior

One day, Mary was walking down the street on his way to drinks with the new friends he'd made the weekend before. It was a good day. He wasn’t hungover as fuck, his makeup was only smudged artfully, and he was pretty sure he was going to get laid.

A guy in a leather jacket and tight jeans maybe a few years older than Mary stopped him on the street.

"Hey, man! I love your style."

Mary batted his eyelashes at him. "Thanks, dude."

"You ever think of dark modeling?"

Mary squinted his eyes at him.

"Dark what now?"

"You know—modeling but like," he gestured up and down Mary’s form, "for dark beauties. Show the world beauty isn’t cookie cutter."

"For like what? A website or some shit?"

The guy dug into his pocket, pulled out a card case, and handed one to Mary.

Heroes Greg Karson, Photographer/Web Design Butera School of Art

Actually, Mary had heard of this. It was a zine about the local happenings around town—concerts, art shows, parties, etc. There was a stack of them next to "Rrriot!" in the record shop. He’d flipped through one occasionally, mostly interested in the band reviews.

"We’re really on the lookout for anyone with the right look. You know, wear stuff you already own."

"So like a street fashion spread?"

"Well, we might do a little more with it, but—you know how it is. Most of the budget goes toward printing costs."

Mary perked up.

"Would I be paid?"

Greg laughed.

"Peanuts, my dude. But yeah. Even if it’s a T token. You interested, then?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Mind if I take a few test shots."

Mary smirked at Greg.

"How do you want me?"

"Just natural."

Putting his hands in his pockets, Mary arched his back and gave Greg his best snotty hipster face.

Greg dug out a digital camera from his carrying case and took a dozen or so pictures of Mary from different angles while telling him to turn this way or that.

Afterwards, the two of them huddled over the camera and scrolled through the shots.

"Aw yeah, this one. I love the attitude. The guys are gonna love it. You have a number where we can reach you?"

Mary gave him the number of the record shop. (His apartment had a phone, but he’d never gotten around to wanting to pay for service.)

Later, he and Amber looked up the Angelfire website on the back of the card. It was one page that contained the mission statement, bios of the creators, and locations to pick up the zine.

"Omigod—you’re gonna become a famous model, Mare!"

"Yeah, right. You know most of it ends up in the trash, right?"

But when Ben called, Mary said he was game. He directed Mary to a co-op in a converted warehouse in Dorchester, and Mary brought his favorite clothes in a borrowed duffle.

A girl in cat pajamas opened the door and pointed at a set of metal stairs with her cereal spoon.

On the second floor, Mary found Greg setting up a makeshift studio. A girl with multiple piercings and yarn dreads leaned against the wall in her black babydoll dress.

Mary sidled up to her.

"You here to model, too?"

She gave him an unimpressed once-over.

"I’m the art director, asshole."

Mary flushed hard as she turned to Greg.

"Couldn’t find one with brains?"

She turned back to Mary.

"I don’t know if you thought this would be a good way to meet chicks or what, dude. But I’m letting you know right now that I’m here on my day off to make sure this adheres to our aesthetic, so if you're not serious, fuck off."

Mary rubbed the back of his neck.

"Shit, sorry. I was expecting a dude named Ben."

She waved her hand in the air as if dispelling Ben.

"The Bens are morons. Good idea, terrible execution. I’m here to make sure we remain true to the idea of 'Heroes,' so don’t fuck up my shoot." She gave him a once over. "Christ. You have any experience?"

Greg turned from where he was testing the white balance.

"Angelique, stop harassing the talent. We get it, you have a degree from RISD."

Angelique snorted.

"As if I don't hear you going on and on about being a professional photographer. 'Hey, lemme shoot your portfolio, baby.' Whatever. As if we're not your only professional credit."

"Hey—you wanted a photographer for peanuts? You got me. You wanted models for peanuts? You got him."

Mary gave her his full snaggle-toothed grin.

"I take T tokens."

Angelique sighed, then pasted on a smile.

"Hi! So happy you’re here!" Her smile drooped. "You got your wardrobe in there?"

"Yeah."

Mary handed her the duffle, and she handed him release forms.

"Here: sign these"

She pawed through his offerings.

"Not bad, not bad." She pulled out a corset and his heeled boots. "We'll keep you in your jeans and have you wear your jacket over your corset. Cool?"

Cool.

The shoot was as professional as a shoot in a warehouse in what Mary was taking to usually be a living room could be. Angelique directed Greg with what she wanted. Greg called out positions and expressions for Mary to pose in.

It was surprisingly hard work, and by the end of a solid hour, his smirking lip was getting tired. Angelique and Greg scrolled through the shots, murmuring to themselves and nodding.

Mary waited—greeting at the other inhabitants as they squeezed by on their way either up or down—until Angelique approached him.

"That’ll do. You mind if we post on our website?"

Mary preened.

"Yeah, that’s kosher."

She handed him a pen and pocket notebook.

"Write down a quick bio."

He scribbled down a quick elevator pitch

Into general skulking and metal \m/

and handed the notebook back to her.

"Great, thanks."

She handed him a $20 bill, her eyes skimming him up and down.

"Next time we should show off those hip bones. Just jeans, I think."

Mary perked up. "Next time?"

"We’ll call you."

***

"Omigod, omigod!"

Amber perched on the record store counter, flipping through "Heroes," as Jon peered over her shoulder.

"Mary…look at you!"

Mary tried to swallow his smug smile.

Failed.

"Yeah. I’m hot shit, ain’t I?"

She bopped him on the nose with the newsprint.

"Don’t be vain."

He showed her his toothy smile.

"I like to think of it as confidence."

"So did Icarus."

Mary snorted and went back to putting prices on the new CDs.

"The camera loves you," said Jon, who was always quiet and reserved as you please…until he put on Frank’s corset and heels.

Mary had tried flirting with him, but Jon always ducked his head and played it off.

"Thanks, man," said Mary, giving him a softer smile.

"So??"

"So what, Amber?"

"Are you gonna do it again?"

Mary shrugged.

"I mean, if they call me, sure."

But he was kind of hoping they would.

When the next issue came out weeks later, Mary stared at the cybergoth on the pages and felt himself deflate. Listlessly, he thumbed through the delicate print, barely skimming the section devoted to the World/Inferno Friendship Society’s set he’d been at the week before.

He set it down with a sigh before he picked up his guitar and plucked out a tune he was trying to coax into a riff.

By the time a Ben called again, Mary had given up the modeling thing as a one-off.

"Hey, dude—thought maybe you guys forgot about me," Mary said in a teasing tone.

The Ben on the other end chuckled.

"It’s like herding cats to get shit out. Nah, dude—we definitely want you to be one of our regulars. You in for next Saturday?"

He was.

***

Over the course of a year, "Heroes" had Mary come out multiple times for shoots. Mainly, Mary wore his own clothes and did his own makeup, but occasionally, Angelique wanted something specific.

"How comfortable are you with boudoir shots?"

"With what?"

"Like a pinup, but more…saucy than sexy."

I'd pose nude if you paid me enough.

(Sure, he was a noodle boy, but he knew he had the goods.)

"Yeah, I’m cool with that."

Angelique brightened at him.

"Great!"

She picked up a set of complicated leather garters and thrust them at him.

"Put these on."

Mary had only ever worn lace garters—mostly out to clubs, but occasionally under his ripped jeans for an extra pop—but he found he liked these even more, liked the way they emphasized his thighs.

"Hey—where’d you get these…?"

(He was already thinking of what he could pair them with for goth night.)

"Local leatherworker. He mostly does pieces for Renn Fairs, but he'll also do custom. I can give you his info."

She led Mary into what was clearly someone's bedroom.

"Don't fuck anything up, or Joye will never let us use this again."

Mary shot her his best shark smile.

"Hey, I only mess up the sheets if someone asks."

Angelique gave him a flat look and called for Greg.

(But when he draped himself over the bed and told Greg to "Paint me like one of your French girls," Mary could have sworn she almost smiled.)

On one memorable occasion, she brought in a guy whose rope bondage demo she watched at a sex convention.

"Put on some of that lingerie and we'll truss you up. You ok with that, Goore?"

Mary ran his fingers over the coils and gave her a wolfish smile.

"You know I'm game for anything."

She gave him a vulpine smile of her own then, and she looked down at him from the height of her platformed boots.

"Good. I thought you should be submissive for once."

Mary had no witty rejoinder for that.

He listened with interest as the guy carefully explained what he was going to do, complete with pictures, and he relaxed easily into the process. (They put bunny ears on him, and it would be much, much later that he got that particular joke. Well played, Angelique.)

The ropes hadn’t let him do much posing, but Mary had kind of liked the constriction, and his thoughts were already on asking Amber to help him create a more versatile version for fetish night.

He’d left that day with a new kink…and the guy’s number.

"Why not just do one big shoot?" he asked another time. "Get it all done in one big bang!"

Angelique held up his garments to eyeball over him.

"Honey, we never even know if there's gonna be a next issue. The Bens spend most of the time arguing. My god you should hear them—Ben bankrolls the whole thing, so he says he should get final say on shit, and Benji wants total artistic control because it was his idea, because 'he's the graphic designer', and because it's his Kinko's employee discount they use."

She gave Mary a curled-lip smile as she tossed a few items at him.

"In the end it's this bitch you're looking at who gets shit done."

Mary began to change (they were long past modesty).

"How'd you get involved?"

"Went to school with Benji."

"Ben too?"

"Neg. The Bens are childhood friends. Ben works some cushy start-up job, so Benji lets him bankroll them both. Rent, utilities—everything. I love Benji to death, but he's a giant mooch."

"Shit, that must be nice."

Angelique shrugged. She stood back to appraise Mary's look.

"It's fucking lame. But it least it gets us fucking paid."

Mary didn't say I'd do this for free. Instead, he struck a pose and said, "I'm just happy for the exposure."

Angelique rolled her eyes and went to fetch Greg.

***

That year and a half would become a nonstop party with Mary as one of the VIPs; he wouldn't say no to anything—be it casual sex, club appearances, or whatever drug the current pretty thing was offering him in the bathroom.

But recognition started slow.

At first, it was customers who would leaf through the zine and recognize Mary.

Then, it was the occasional scenester who’d stop him on the street in JP as he walked about, and Mary would pose for grainy cell phone pics.

Soon, he was being approached at shows and clubs. The first time it happened, Mary was high off his new infamy and ready to please. A woman in a black bandage bra and pleated skirt with bondage straps approached him, and Mary was already thinking of what he could do with those.

"You look like that guy in ‘Heroes’!" she'd shouted to him over the music.

Mary had flashed her a crooked smile and leaned in.

"Maybe I am the guy in ‘Heroes’."

She'd given him an exaggerated once over before sidling closer with hooded eyes.

"I dunno…you're wearing way more clothes."

Mary had pulled his mesh top down by the collar in a tease as he'd curled over her.

"Take me somewhere more private and I’ll let you do a comparison."

She'd compared him all night.

And that was before he and the other "Heroes" models formed their own posse.

The Bens had thrown a BBQ and had invited everyone they'd ever met. There were people packed into their little 2 bedroom in Brighton, spilling down the back stairs, and equally packed into the little square of shared backyard. Ben had taken the 12-pack of 'Gansett beers Mary had brought, then introduced him to the other dark models.

"Now you're all here!" said Ben. He slung his arm around Mary. "Guys, this is Mary. Mary this is Mayhem, Lesley, Lola, and Bryan."

Mayhem was a rivethead, and Mary took to him instantly, but he was wary of the others. Lesley was the cybergoth who'd been in the first issue after him, and Mary still felt a bit salty at them, even though Mary knew by now the Bens rotated the models. Lola, the romantic goth, reminded him enough of Vanity that he felt guilty for losing touch with her and had him projecting a little. Bryan was a metalhead, so: competition.

Mary had thought they'd get along like cats and water, but weed, booze, and "Never Have I Ever" went a long way to creating a shared bond.

And there it was again. That pull. The magnetic force telling him that he'd found the place he was supposed to be. They quickly coalesced into their own pack, calling themselves the "Deathbutantes" (because they always killed it when they debuted for the night).

It had been rare for Mary to miss Friday and Saturday night shenanigans with the Rocky crew, but now, every night was Friday night. There was always a show or a concert or club that one of them knew about—and if they couldn't get lucky with the local color, they'd just go home with each other.

Mayhem taught Mary what Lola jokingly called the "grab a bat" dance, and the two of them cut quite the picture on the dance floors.

Lesley took to Lola, and the two of them could always be counted on for scintillating conversation in dark corners when Mary's limbst needed a break from flailing about.

The clubs weren't really Bryan's scene—take him to a sticky hole in the wall with concrete floors and a stage close enough to feel the sweat from the bands, and he was in heaven—but he liked to come along to hang. He'd drink PBRs, rub Lola's feet when she invariably abandoned her heels for the evening, and argue with Mary about the purity of death metal.

Mayhem and Lola weren't really into live music of the screaming kind, so—while Lesley, Bryan, and Mary bounced off each other in the mosh pits—they'd save a "home" base at one the bartops.

Amber noticed Mary's diminishing presence and stopped by the record shop to call him out.

"So you're not dead! Could've fooled me."

Mary was organizing the albums into order, and he grunted at her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm a cad. I'll make it up to you."

"You missed game night."

"Sorry. Jethro Tull played some tiny venue in nowhere Mass, and Bryan was salivating. I mean, Jethro Tull. Can you blame me?"

He looked at her, arms out wide in supplication. But she just blinked at him.

"You have no idea who Jethro Tull is, do you?"

"Sorry, dude. But christ, Mare. You should have invited me. I'd've gone. Maybe I would have even liked them. Now you'll never know."

"I could just lend you an album."

"Nope! The moment passed. Too late!"

Mary riffled through the stock and shoved a Jethro Tull CD into her hands.

She tapped it against her thigh.

"So, when do I get to hang?"

"I can get us into 80s night free."

"No, I mean, with your cooler friends. Your 'murder models', or whatever."

"You wanna hang out with the Deathbutantes?"

Amber scrunched her nose.

"That's so fucking pretentious."

Mary kind of liked it.

"Dunno if they're really your scene."

"Oh? And what's my scene?"

"Musical theater on crack."

She mock gasped at him, "Called out!" before smacking him with the CD. "Whatever. You love musical theater on crack."

Mary draped his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, I do. But I don't live it, you know? You guys have your niche—and fuck…I love to visit—but it's not mine."

Amber looked up at him, her expression serious.

"So the Dumbutantes are your niche?"

Mary shrugged and went back to shelving.

The Rocky crew had been good to him. They'd taken him under their wing, no questions asked, and helped him realize things about himself. Tim had taken him to the ER when Mary had come down with a serious case of the flu. Matty had taught him the basics of sewing. Gretchen had held him after a bad trip. Omar and he had had many drunken heart-to-hearts about their shitty home lives.

And Amber was his best friend. She'd been his #1 cheerleader for years and had never been afraid to call him out on his shit.

So yeah, he loved the Rocky crew…but they laughed at anyone who took anything too seriously. Mary would show up to game nights in his latest creation—with everyone else in pjs or jeans & hoodies—and they'd tease him about trying to impress the wrong people. He'd try to talk about the newest guitar god he'd been mainlining, and they'd make snoring noises at him.

How could he explain the kinship he felt with the Deathbutantes? That they were as serious about music as he was, that they just…got why he felt the need to dress the way he did to express the way he felt inside on his outside.

Instead, he said, "I'm just trying shit out, Ambs." He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I gotta do something while you guys do your real-person jobs."

(Amber had recently started as a junior marketing assistant at the American Repertory Theater. "Purely mercenary," she'd said. "Maybe it'll give me a leg up during auditions.")

She made a disgruntled scoffing noise in the back of her throat.

"Fuck, don't remind me. I actually gotta go to bed a reasonable hour now."

"Don't worry." Mary winked at her. "I'll keep ya honest."

"That sounds a lot like my head in a toilet, Mare."

"I'll hold your hair back."

She gave him a good-natured shove, and he pretended to cower.

If she wanted to cross pollinate, who was Mary to stand in her way? So, he invited her out the next time the Deathbutantes went to a show, and it went exactly like he thought it would.

They disliked her, and she was equally unimpressed. They thought she was too loud and frenetic, and she thought they had no sense of humor.

"I fucking told you," Mary had snorted as they sat on the curb sharing a clove.

"Shut the fuck up, Mare."

But she'd put her head on his shoulder.

"They make you happy, though. So I guess I approve. Just as long as I don't have to play nice."

Mary still hung out with the Rocky crew—there were still game nights and drug-fueled sex parties and theater games—but the Deathbutantes introduced him to the underground scene. They always seemed to have insider knowledge about the best up-in-coming bands and the secret shows. Theme nights at the goth clubs were always a must, and they rarely missed one. Sometimes, Angelique would crash, and they'd take the commuter rail to Providence to party at Club Hell before collapsing in a sweaty, smeary pile at a friend of a friend's hole in the wall.

As a bit player in the Rocky crew, Mary had been another made-up face in the crowd. As a certified member of the Deathbutantes, Mary became the face.

They all did.

The owners loved them because they bought round after round at the bar, and if word got out that the Deathbutantes were there, their admirers came to spend money as well. The employees loved them because they were fun and talked to them as equals. The clientele loved them because they were pretty young things.

Sometimes, though, Mary wasn't in the mood to party or get laid, so he talked to the DJs instead. He'd buy them rounds and stay past closing to help them pack up while they talked about the history of punk and 80s new wave and nu metal. There was one in particular, Dave, that Mary even considered a friend.

The two of them would sit in the club past closing, sharing a whiskey and talking about life while the bartenders closed down and cashed out. Occasionally, Dave's other friends would be around, and they'd all walk back to his place; he'd fool around spinning in his home studio, and they'd drink box wine as they danced and laughed before Mary would have to sit on the ground in an intoxicated exhaustion, good for only thumbing through Dave's vinyl collection.

Mary was just happy to talk shop with another music aficionado, but Angelique had pointed out that he should leverage his minor clout.

They'd been waiting for Greg to finish setting up, and Mary had been struggle city after a particularly hard night out. It was all he could manage to sit there quietly and hope some god would put him out of his misery.

"You need to get your shit together," Angelique had said out of nowhere.

Mary had cracked a puffy eye and had slowly (as to not bring the nothing in his stomach back up) turned his head to her.

"As if I haven't seen your melted ass on the floor wanting to die."

"Fuck, Mary. You've turned it into an art form."

He'd closed his eyes and given her the finger, but that hadn't stopped her.

"You wanna be a rockstar, boy? You can't just sit on your ass and hope the right person on the right night hears you. You're effervescent and charismatic—heads turn when you walk into a room and not just because of your skinny jeans—but you need more than air, Mary, which is all you are right now."

"Fuck you, Angela."

She'd clapped in front of his face, and she was lucky he didn't Exorcist bile all over her.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, Goore. I'm doling out the good stuff, try not to bite my hand off, k?"

"All right, all right!"

"You wanna start that band? You wanna get play and amass fans? Well, make that demo you're always droning on about and give it to those DJs you're alway fanboying over. Fucking network, Goore."

At the time, Mary had been too hungover to care, but her advice would sink in…

Eventually.

For the time being, Mary was content. He loved the attention, and it made him feel invincible, made him feel like it was finally His Time. And he was going to make up for every slight, every unfair situation, and every beat down with sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.

With his newfound nightlife, Mary's day job had become an afterthought. He started sleeping through opening shifts, but with the extra foot traffic Mary brought to the store, his boss seemed resigned to let Mary slide (after a stern talking to and a pay docking).

The shadow cast had started using him as a mascot of sorts, and he was happy to show up on Saturday nights and hype up the waiting line with a pseudo striptease. (Even if it was sometimes to kick off his evening with the Deathbutantes and not hang with the cast after.)

Mary started a band ("auditioning" any and all of the many admirers who said they’d be more than happy to join it), and after a few false starts and a couple of lineup changes, they began working on an EP. (At least, when Mary showed up to rehearsal, they did.)

A Boston Phoenix reporter got wind of the Deathbutantes and called around about doing a story on them. The Bens were excited about the exposure that meant for their zine, and Angelique and Greg were excited about what it could mean for their careers. Mary did a brief interview over the phone where he answered questions about his style and talked about his dream of making his band a household name.

Mary saw his name up in lights, and he was reaching for it, full speed ahead.

But then things turned.

The story fell through at the last minute with no further explanation or contact by the reporter.

His boss finally fired him after Mary showed up too high to function too many times—or not at all.

The shadow cast had a turnover, and suddenly he was old news—a cringey hanger-on.

A trip to the clinic and a round of antibiotics for an STI had him way more wary of who he hooked up with.

"Heroes" lost momentum when imitators popped up and Ben cut off the gravy train.

Angelique moved to NYC for "better opportunities," and the Bens took their brand of counterculture to Portland, OR.

Greg took down the website when he got offered a legit job as an apprentice at a food magazine, and that was that.

The physical zines were cheap things, most ending up papering the sidewalk after trash day or lining the bottom of cages. Without the online presence, did Mary's "modeling career" even exist?

Mary was a little sad to see the era go, but when he woke up in Maine on the hood of some girl's car and only a hazy recollection of how they'd gotten there, he was beginning to see Angelique's point. He needed to get his shit together if he was ever going to become a rockstar. And frankly, he kind of felt like he needed to spend an entire month eating carrots and hydrating.

The 24/7 party had always been an ephemeral thing; it had been sand passing through his hands in a finite amount as he'd tried to hold onto it

He put himself on detox, and waking up sober for the first time in months felt like a revelation. And as it turned out, playing the guitar without badly shaking hands was way, way easier.

He found another job in another music store, and his starter!band was bringing butts into the smaller venues, like Toad.

He still had his old Rocky friends and the Deathbutantes. The club and venue owners still let him in for free, and Dave was always happy to give his demos a spin. By anyone's else's measure, he was steal one of the scene's darlings.

But Mary was beginning to realize that he needed to stop seeing himself as that scared kid who’d arrived in Boston 4 years ago with only a backpack, $72.57 to his name, and void where his family should be.

He needed to stop finding people to please into loving him.

Instead, he needed to live for himself and let them love him for who he was—fuck ups and all.

@slimylayne

Epilogue

"Honestly, that’s probably the reason I even got a band together," he says. "I was still kind of shit at guitar, but people came to see ‘Model Mary’ perform in his underwear."

He shoots me a smirk.

"I’m sure there’re pictures out there of me looking more glam than metal. I kind of played up the whole pinup thing for a while."

"Fuck, I would kill, literally kill to see that."

He pulls me into his lap until I’m straddling him.

"I could open up my underwear drawer and show you right now."

"Goore, you temptress."

I lean down to kiss him, and his hands sneak under my shirt, but I pull away again.

"I kinda thought I knew all your torrid secrets by now. Shit, how come Dave's never needled you about it?"

After 2 years with him, I’m surprised I hadn't even heard a peep from his oldest friend.

Mary snorts.

"Dave would miss shit hanging off his nose. Great dude, amiable as fuck, but he's always had fucking tunnel vision for his music."

I smirk at him.

"Sounds like someone else I know."

Mary pulls a face at me, and I apply kisses to every line until he laughs and bats me away.

"But really, Mare—how come you never told me about your brief career in blue steel?"

He blows out a breath, his hands smoothing up my thighs.

"Fuck. Cuz maybe I was a little embarrassed at how off the rails I was then, ok? Didn't want you to know what I fuck up I was." He takes my hand and kisses my palm. "And even I know it's a shit move to pitch woo at someone by telling them about banging half of Boston."

I make a face at him, and he laughs.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought."

His hands rest on my waist.

"Christ, everything about that year's a bit fuzzy, and it was like 10 years ago. Sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else, honestly. And shit—most of those people aren’t even around anymore. College kids who moved on and 20-somethings that grew up and moved who knows where. I used to watch Amber have—what is it when it’s four people?—and now she lives in bumblefuck Pennsylvania with 3 kids. After she left, I just kinda drifted away from all that."

He shrugs, his eyes downcast.

"I’m sorry, Mare," I say as I smooth his eyebrows.

He shrugs again.

"I mean, we all kinda keep in touch. It's like the only reason I have Facebook."

"When was the last time you even signed into that?"

Mary grins at me.

"Lola's birthday."

"One of the models? What happened with them?"

Mary bites his lip and thinks.

"Mayhem found religion after an OD and kinda ghosted everyone. Lesley followed a girl to New Hampshire. Uh…Lola pursued a PhD for something sciencey involving renewable energy with sugar beets in Idaho, and Bryan moved back to Florida to care for his grandma, who raised him."

Mary leans his head back on the couch and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I mean, shit. We were fucking babies back then. Head empty except for a good time and unlimited potential."

I run my fingers through his hair.

"You miss it?"

His eyes pop open to look at me.

"Fuck no. Not for a million dollars. Too many question marks." His eyes glint as he runs his hands down me. "I like what I got going on right here."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss his forehead. The fucking sap.

Mary picks up my phone and scrolls through the pictures again.

"Fuck. I used to be goddamn adorable, though. Half this shit wouldn’t even fit me anymore."

I squish his little potbelly, and he grunts at me indignantly.

"Do you still have any originals?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his eyes wistful and his smile sad.

"Nah. Got destroyed when my roof collapsed and leaked everywhere. Fuck, landlords are useless. Glad we fucking own now, babe."

He scrolls up, scrolls back down.

"Just these four?"

I nod.

"Yeah. They were the only ones I found—and I did a lot of searching."

"Christ, I think there were at least 10."

I smile ruefully at him. "It’s not gonna be long anyway before they make their way into the popular tags and shit starts coming out of the woodwork."

He tosses my phone onto the table.

"Whatever. Just shows that I’ve always been cool."

And then he’s kissing me again, his hand tangling in my hair.

"You know, I’m your family now, Mare. Just for you."

He brings my hand up and kisses it.

"Fuck, I know that. Why’dja think I put a ring on it?"

#mary goore #longfic #gender neutral insert #aurelio voltaire

[pricemarshfield]

i dig you

A fluff & angst Amberprice fic. Chapter 1/2. Read on AO3 here.

Chloe still seems shocked every time Rachel sits next to her at lunch. She hides it well, snarks at anyone who questions them, teases Rachel about the plays she still brings to read and reread again and again.

But Rachel's pretty insightful, and she notices when Chloe's eyes widen, when she shifts like she's not quite sure what to do, when her smile dims a little when Victoria loudly questions why Rachel's still hanging around the soon-to-be-dropout.

She's not sure what to do about it. If she just tells her no, Chloe, I do want to be here still, she's sure Chloe'd find a way to take it the wrong way, question why she needed to bring it up, deny she ever doubted it in the first place. One or all of those things. She loves her, but her abandonment issues run deep. Rachel could punch Victoria, but she'd definitely get kicked out for that, and she doesn't want to risk law school.

So she makes an effort to include Chloe in everything. Chloe sits in on rehearsals, ignoring Mr. Keaton's increasingly desperate attempts to get her to join or at least take the intro elective class. They get high in the junkyard, find a little room and make it their own with graffiti (with actual spray paint, thank you, not a Sharpie). Rachel watches Chloe's weird movies, Chloe watches Rachel's Broadway bootlegs, they listen to punk and drive around in the truck, fabric of the seat replaced so they can't see the deep, dark red stain from when she got stabbed.

It doesn't change anything. Chloe still looks at her like it'll be the last time they hang out every time they have some minor disagreement, texts a hundred times in a row begging her not to leave her every time she gets drunk without Rachel there to reassure her in person. It's...a little exhausting, if she's being honest. She loves Chloe, she wants to help her! But it's...sometimes she's just trying to have fun with some other group, and it's been three parties of that in a row.

"You texting your girlfriend?" asks some well-meaning newbie to the Vortex Club. Rachel opens her mouth to deny it, already dreading having to make herself heard over Victoria's snide commentary and Nathan's barely-veiled homophobia, but then her phone goes off again, and again, and one more time for good measure.

"I do have to take this," she says, and pretends she can't hear the conversation that kicks up before the door's fully shut behind her.

The cool, fresh air outside is refreshing, and she takes a couple deep breaths before calling Chloe.

"Rachel," Chloe says, voice slurring enough that Rachel's heart immediately kicks into a higher gear.

"Hey, Chlo," Rachel says, a nickname she has not used once in her life. "What's up?"

"Wher're you?" Chloe asks instead. Rachel doesn't hear the sound of the train, so probably not in the junkyard? But it could just not be passing.

"At Blackwell," Rachel says, which isn't, technically, a lie. She's on school grounds, and she says it casually enough that Chloe doesn't immediately push. "Do you want to come over? We could put on a movie, light some incense."

Chloe laughs, and the sound is light and easy before it cuts out abruptly. She can't hear anything on the other end.

"Chloe? Are you okay?"

"I'm fucking fine," Chloe says, and she keeps her voice quiet, so that means she's at her house. Rachel's tipsiness from earlier in the night has long since faded, she's probably good to drive, and she really, really doesn't want to leave Chloe alone. There's an edge to her voice that Rachel doesn't trust, reminds her of the fragility in her mom's voice the last time she visited before apparently disappearing off the face of the earth.

Rachel hopes she's in rehab. But she thinks Rose would tell her if that was the case.

"Okay," Rachel says. "I'd still like to hang out, if you're free."

"'Course I'm free," Chloe says. "i don't have any fuckin' friends, do I." It's not said like a question.

"You have me."

"Right," Chloe says. "Just the best of friends."

Rachel's already in the parking lot, trying to remember where the hell she'd parked the car. (Her dad's: knowing how much evidence they have on him working with Damon, he's been inclined to give her everything she wants, especially now that she's already met her mom. Rose still tries, too.) "Yeah. We're best friends, Chloe. You're the person I care about most in this shithole town."

"Yeah," Chloe says. "Yeah, when are we leaving, again? Thought you wanted to leave more than anything?"

"I did!" Rachel says, then corrects, "I do. I had to heal up after getting stabbed, remember?"

It's shitty and manipulative, but it works; Chloe's irritation switches to concern. "Yeah. I remember."

"But I am feeling better now," Rachel says. "I'm ready to go when you are."

"Now?"

"Sure," Rachel says. "Tell me where you are."

"Step-dick's house," Chloe says, quieter now. "Do you mean it?"

"Of course I mean it," Rachel says. "Do you still have all the clothes I packed you?"

"Yeah," Chloe says, voice hitching a little like she's about to cry. "I do."

"Awesome," Rachel says, excited despite herself. "Then I'll see you soon."

---

Rachel wants to be ready for the grand adventure with her friend at her side, but Chloe's house is more than a couple minutes' drive from Blackwell, which gives the logical parts of her plenty of time to ask her what the fuck she thinks she's doing.

They have no money. Rachel's barely gotten her first credit card, and it has, like, 1500 dollars on it. Which is a lot of money, but she's already spent some of it on alcohol, on their half-decent fakes, on Venmoing Frank for their weed or the other things she's tentatively tried. So they have about a thousand, which will cover gas to LA, at least, and probably food, and do they really need hotel rooms?

But of course they need hotel rooms, they can't just park by the side of the road in the middle-of-nowhere freeways. Those are like...fifty bucks? A hundred bucks? They can share a bed, that should make it cheaper.

So. A thousand will get them to LA. Then they'll...get jobs, Rachel guesses.

She's got this idea of herself working at a diner, wearing some cute outfit with pops of red, serving coffee and making small talk with the chefs while she waits for her big break. But that's only good for the modelling; she wants to go into law one day, too.

Maybe she can transfer to a school there? Showing she's independent enough to live on her own (with Chloe, of course, but without her parents there) has to look good on an application?

Or reckless and irresponsible, like her dad keeps calling Chloe.

All-in-all, Rachel's doubting everything in her entire life as she pulls up to Chloe's house. Chloe isn't outside, and she's about to throw some pebbles at her window when the front door opens with barely a creak.

"Did you oil the hinges?" Rachel asks, trying to keep the tone light. "Handy."

Chloe beams at her, wearing Rachel's old tarot shirt. Fuck, her tarot decks, she wants to bring those. All her things. At least some clothes. Probably some food, too?

"Do you have all the stuff you wanna bring?" Rachel asks. "We might need to stop by my place."

"That's what you said last time," Chloe says, but looks at Rachel, wearing her party outfit--only a tank top and some high shorts, which are cute but not great for the only outfit to have in a big life change--and shrugs.

Rachel breathes a sigh of relief. "Plus, they'll get mad if we steal the car. And gas is gonna be expensive enough."

"Don't care," Chloe says. "I'll take the truck."

Chloe, who is visibly swaying on her feet, is absolutely not good to drive. Rachel thinks for a second--if she drives her dad's car back, Chloe can be in the passenger seat, but then they'll have to walk with all her bags back to the truck. If they take the truck, Rachel can leave the keys and a note explaining where it is. They'll be mad, but whatever.

"Can I drive your truck, actually?" Rachel asks, and Chloe shrugs again. It won't be the first time behind the wheel of the truck, but it will be the first time on actual roads, not the paths they'd cleared in the junkyard. "Thanks, Chloe."

"Sure," Chloe says, tossing her the keys and yanking at the handle on her side. Rachel opens her door, reaches over to unlock the passenger side so Chloe can climb in. "What are we getting?"

"Clothes," Rachel says. "Maybe my tarot decks."

A couple of the plays she has physical copies of. Any and all drugs left in her room. Her flashlight that Chloe made for her. The important things.

"Okay," Chloe says. "You mean it? We're gonna leave?"

"I do," Rachel says, and she should kiss her. She should. She has before. She wants to. But she looks at Chloe, eyes still wide with disbelief that Rachel will follow her, will help lead the way out. If she pushes this, and she's wrong...

Rachel grabs her hand instead, smiles at her. Chloe squeezes it, and they keep holding hands the whole way to the Amber house. Rachel hopes she won't ever let go.

#amberprice #rachel amber #chloe price #life is strange #my fics #OKAY done crossposting sorry for spam everyone

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste ch. 1-2

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Kagami Tsurugi, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Luka Couffaine, Lila Rossi/karma, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/aneurism, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Kagami Tsurugi, Plagg & Tikki

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Jagged Stone, Plagg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, Anarka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, Alya Césaire, Chloé Bourgeois, Wayhem, Nadja Chamack, Nathalie Sancoeur, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Tikki, Fang, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Ms. Mendeleiev, original minor character, Alec Cataldi, Lila Rossi's Mother, Sabrina Raincomprix, Roger Raincomprix, Mylène Haprèle, Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste's Bodyguard, Nino Lahiffe, Nooroo

Tags: Lila Rossi salt, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Teenage Rebellion, Swearing, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Crack Treated Seriously, Lila Rossi's Lies Are Exposed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Luka Couffaine Needs a Hug, Paparazzi, Parentification, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Gabriel Agreste Needs an Aneurism, Uncle Jagged Stone, we're all queer here, the spirit of punk is sometimes just being allowed to be yourself, Kagami Finds Her Groove, punk rock fashion, Savage Kagami, Marinette protection squad, Good Parent Sabine Cheng, Good Parent Tom Dupain, Protective Kagami Tsurugi, Protective Luka Couffaine, Bisexual Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Pansexual Luka Couffaine, Sharing a Bed, Pet Names, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Instagram, Bullying, Social Media, Anxiety, Makeover, Hugs, will cure your acne, Face Punching, Bad Ass Juleka Couffaine, Rumors, Protective Juleka Couffaine, Protective Adrien Agreste, Lawyers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holding Hands, accountability, mental health, Jagged Stone's well-paid pet shark, How to Make the Evening News, Sexy eyeliner for days, one fish two fish Lila is a screwed fish, How to have fun and piss Gabriel off, Fuckery, sweet litigious karma, Alya sugar, lawyer shark doo doo doo doo doo doo, Schadenfreude, Bad Ass Alya Césaire, Gaslighting, abuse denormalization, Jagged likes his lawyers like he likes his pets: toothy af, Blood in the Water, Everything you didn’t know you wanted and some things you did, Gabriel Agreste is shark bait, Denial, Consequences, Principal Damocles salt, caline bustier salt, the impotence of Gabriel Agreste, snarky Nooroo, lies and the lying liars who tell them, Lila's brain is a narcissistic hellscape, Lila’s mind is built like an Escher piece, Alec Cataldi salt, Adrien Sugar, wholesome salt, Fu Salt, Kwami Shenanigans, Nooroo is a little shit

Summary: Gabriel decides that Adrien entering a romantic relationship is a good move for the brand. He chooses Lila Rossi as the other half. Adrien nopes tf out.

Notes: I was gonna have it be a slow acceleration, but Adrien was all “Go big or go home.” Also trying to find motivation to write more of this fic.

AO3 link

----------

“No,” Adrien growled. “Absolutely not!”

Lila made a show of crying, not that anyone in the room believed her tears were real.

Gabriel frowned at him from his desk. “This will be good for the brand—”

“Fuck the brand!”

“Adrien! This is unbecoming. You will be seen to be dating Ms. Rossi. That is final.”

Adrien’s fists were so tight he was sure he had crescents eating into his palms. “Like hell it is! I will not date that—” he gestured at Lila “—lying cow. Not after how she’s hurt my friends.”

Said girl gasped, outraged, and Adrien was glad to see she actually looked truly upset.

His father stood, but kept his voice emotionless, calm, self-assured that he would capitulate. “Cease this ridiculous teenage rebellion.”

He saw red, but oddly it calmed him. “Father, you have not seen teenage rebellion,” he said, his voice almost terrifyingly calm. “But I would be happy to teach you what it looks like if you try to force me to do this.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. Adrien could see him considering that, but then discarding it. “It will be in the papers tomorrow. If you misbehave, you’ll no longer be permitted to go to school.”

Adrien snorted. He knew more ways to escape this house than his father could possibly anticipate—some he’d made himself, even. “Good luck, Gabe. You’re going to need it.”

He spun on his heel before his father could respond and slammed the door behind him. With the enhanced strength he had as the Black Cat Miraculous chosen, the wood cracked audibly.

As he made his way back to his room, he realized the opportunity his father had just placed in his lap. As the face of the brand, Adrien had more power than Gabriel seemed to realize. It was time to stretch those muscles.

He had planning to do.

---------

His father had spectacularly good timing for pulling this kind of stunt—for Adrien, anyway. He’d heard from a couple of friends of his that a certain rock star was in town. And if anyone was up for promoting teenage rebellion, Adrien had no doubt it would be Jagged Stone.

It was child’s play to sneak out of the house. He didn’t even have to transform to do it. From there it was just making his way to the Grand Paris Hotel. The staff assumed he was there to see Chloé, so getting in was no problem. Jagged Stone always rented the same suite, so that wasn’t an issue, either.

The hard part, he knew, would come after he knocked on the door.

Jagged opened the door, and then peered at him suspiciously.

“Um, M. Stone, I don’t know if you remember me but—”

The rock star suddenly broke into a wide grin. “Oh, you’re Marinette’s model friend, right?”

Adrien blinked. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard. His rock idol knew him?

Sadly, he had no time to fanboy.

“Yes, Adrien. I was wondering if I could trouble you for some help?”

And so that was how Adrien Agreste wound up sitting in Jagged Stone’s suite, petting Fang, and telling him about the woe that was the obsession his father had with Lila Rossi, Liar Extraordinaire.

“She said I had a what?”

“A kitten. And she got Marinette expelled and is just being really awful to her.”

Jagged opened a cell phone. “Penny, I need you. Yes, I know I sent you for macrons, but this is really important. Bring my niece with.”

When he was finished, he turned to Adrien again. “We’ll get that taken care of.”

“That’s not all, M. Stone.”

He pressed forward, telling his idol of the relationship he was being forced into and his promise to show Gabriel Agreste just what he could do if he really rebelled.

When he was done, Jagged’s face was gleeful in an almost terrifying way.

“Oh, please tell me I get to help with this?” At Adrien’s nod the man whooped in excitement. “Brilliant. Once my niece gets here, we’ll plan properly. She’s a planner, that one. Smart as a whip.”

Adrien blinked. “Your niece?”

“Marinette, of course! Honorary niece.”

His jaw dropped. Marinette had always had the upper hand on Lila, could call in Jagged at any moment to destroy her, and had held back. He never should’ve stopped her.

“My father can’t know she helped. He’s got so much power in the fashion industry, and I don’t want to hurt her career.”

Jagged waved away his concerns. “Mate, listen. From what I understand you’re the face of that company. You have the power, not him. Get you in some Marinette originals, and he can’t undo the fame that’ll bring her.”

Adrien hadn’t considered that. “I just don’t want her hurt.”

He heard the door open, and then a soft, “Adrien?”

It meant he had to explain the situation all over again, letting Jagged Stone assure her that he was going to pop the liar’s kitten whopper as soon as possible.

“I can stop by your school with Fang, yeah? They can’t keep me from saying hi to my favorite niece.”

Marinette bit her lip. “That would be helpful, but for Adrien…”

Adrien smiled. “I want you to design me a new look. Something we can do here and now—maybe with the discrete help of some of the hotel staff, since they have that nice spa and such. Hair dye, new clothes. Maybe some fake piercings. Oooh, a fake tattoo?”

Jagged glanced at Penny, who looked uncertain about this. “Don’t be a party pooper, Penny.”

“His father might sue you,” she pointed out.

“Like I care. I have money.” He grinned. “And for what? Giving his kid a makeover?”

“French law—”

“Nope, don’t care. It’s happening. Get his sizes and go to my favorite stores. Adrien, what color scheme?”

Adrien blinked. He hadn’t thought that far. He glanced at Marinette. “Um, do you think Chat Noir would mind if I used his colors? I think of him when I think teenage rebellion.”

That was more because being Chat Noir had up to this point been his way of rebelling, but she didn’t need to know that.

To his surprise, Marinette grinned, the smile wide enough to match Jagged’s. “Oh, I like that idea. Chains and spikes? Fake lip ring and septum?”

“Absolutely!”

Jagged made a shooing motion at Penny, who rolled her eyes and headed toward the door, before joining in. “Now how about this idea: black and neon green hair, done to look like a skunk’s stripes!”

Adrien was surprised to find himself laughing honestly at the idea. He’d been so angry less than an hour ago, but this was truly fun. “This makes me think of those J-Rock bands, how they used to dress up.”

Jagged’s phone let out a guitar riff and he glanced at it. “Oh, right. Penny needs your measurements. Shoe size, too. Definitely some stomping boots, I think.”

He handed over his unlocked phone for Adrien to text.

“I’ll call the salon, yeah?”

Adrien nodded, texting the information, then froze. “Wait, Chloé might tell my father.”

That got a laugh. “Nah. They’re discrete. They bring everything up here for me—I won’t be around people if I’m getting my hair dyed.”

While Jagged made the call, Adrien finished the text. When he looked up, Marinette was watching him. She turned pink when she realized he’d caught her.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked after a moment.

He sighed, slumping back on the sofa and resting his hand on Fang’s head again. “No, but I don’t have any better ones. That stupid news claiming I’m with Lila’s going to hit tomorrow. And I’m so done with this, with him treating me like I’m property.”

Marinette looked worried, and he tried to muster up a smile. From her expression, he didn’t manage it.

“Maybe…” she started, then trailed off.

“Maybe?”

She didn’t look at him. “Maybe you should look into laws involving child labor and parental responsibility. You… you might be able to get emancipated.”

That startled him—something he hadn’t even thought of before. He hadn’t even been aware it was an option.

When Marinette did look at him, her eyes were stormy. “He’s so… cruel to you. Maybe there’s legal recourse.”

“I’ll think about it,” he murmured. That seemed like such a drastic measure. “I don’t know if I want to go that far.”

She nodded, and he excused himself to go to the bathroom.

Plagg shot out of his pocket the moment the door was closed. “I’m so proud of you kid. This is gonna be great!”

“Thanks, Plagg.”

The kwami grabbed the proffered wedge of camembert.

“And think about what Pigtails said. Your dad’s a real piece of work, and you deserve better.”

“I will.”

Adrien could feel the idea turning over in his mind, as though gathering strength. When he left the bathroom, Jagged met him excitedly.

“I have just the idea! A temporary face tattoo!”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfiction #adrien agreste #jagged stone #uncle jagged #penny rolling #plagg #marinette dupain cheng #gabriel agreste #gabriel agreste’s a+ parenting #lila rossi #lila salt #lila 'the liar' rossi #ml salt #miraculous salt #my fanfiction #The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste

[justkending]

Just Roommates. Chapter 27.

Series Summary: These two college friends have had years to grow together. Each being the others support system, adventure buddy, movie night partner, and dorky roommates. That is until things start coming to a new light in their relationship. At least for him… Is there something else there? Is it possible? Were these feelings always there?

Pairing: (Modern) Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: Fluff, Adulting, sexy-times mentions, language.

Word Count: 2700+

A/N: This is a very simple chapter, but I needed it for the next chapter:) Hope you enjoy!!

Chapter 27:

"That's perfect right there! Thank you!"

Y/N was instructing the movers bringing in the last of their furniture while her and Wanda started unloading items for the kitchen. Steve, Sam, Clint, Wanda, and Vision had all pitched in their cars as ways to help with moving the smaller boxes from their flat. Nat and Maria were going to be there within the next hour.

Bucky was out by the cars with Steve bringing in a few more hauls of the boxes.

"So, when's the engagement party?" Steve asked.

"I honestly think Y/N's just going to count this move in party as the engagement party. She's not one for all the formal events. Which I'm perfectly fine with," Bucky smiled, re-adjusting his grip on the larger box as they walked up the porch.

"Really? How are we supposed to get you two gifts if we didn't know this was the engagement party?" Steve asked.

"Don't act like you guys didn't all bring some housewarming gift. I saw you all casually trying to hide your little gift bags and stuff. Horrible hiding by the way," Bucky chuckled as Steve opened the door for to the two of them.

"Housewarming gifts are different from engagement gift," the blonde countered.

"I guess, but we really don't need anything. We just want to hang out with you guys in our new home. That's enough for us both," Bucky shrugged, putting the boxes down and turning to see Wanda and Y/N laughing in the kitchen.

"You know, Bucky, just a year ago you would be all over the material things. Something I think Bonnie would have played a part in and also been ecstatic for," Steve smiled looking at his friend. "The fact that's not even a thought for you shows how lucky you got Buck. You and Y/N both got lucky."

Bucky couldn't looked away from Y/N. She was in her 'moving overalls' as she called them since apparently she had so many they all had a special purpose. Her hair was in a messy bun with a head scarf wrapped keeping her wayward curls out of her face. Failing at at its job, but still cute nonetheless. One of the overall shoulders wasn't hooked and was hanging off her shoulder. She was laughing and pointing something out to Wanda in the living room.

"I did get lucky. The woman has taught me more things than I cared to know existed. And because of that I'm a lot more content and happy with my life." Bucky sent a single nod and smile after making eye contact with Y/N who blushed and winked back at him. "I'm on a high Steve, and I haven't fell from it in 6+ months."

"I feel you brother," Steve said squeezing Bucky's shoulder.

"You feel me?" Bucky said with a small laugh knowing Steve was as single as could be. "How do you-" When Steve's reaction was just a dopey smile as if he were lost in space, Bucky's eyebrows shot up. "You punk! You're seeing someone and you didn't tell me?!"

"Hey, hey. Quiet!" Steve said, putting his hands out in surrender. "I-I just wanted to see how things would go and didn't want anyone to get their hopes up, but... Yeah... There's a girl."

"Steve, that's amazing!" Bucky said, pulling him into a hug. "How long?"

"Remember Dr. Erskine from your charity gala?" Bucky nodded. "One of his shadows for his work happens to be in the geriatric field, and he mentioned the senior home to her. She came by for a visit to see the home for some research and we kinda hit it off." Steve had a blush creeping up his neck and was rubbing the back of it in nerves.

"Well, what's her name? What was she doing research for? How old is she? Blonde or Brunette? Or maybe redhead-" Bucky started spouting out questions.

"Her name is Margaret, but she goes by Peggy. She does different funding for senior homes and is doing research in veterans history. She's trying to write a book right now about different stories of WWII vets and Vietnam vets. She's just a few years older than me," Steve answered with a laugh. "And brunette. The most beautiful brown hair and brown eyes I've ever seen on a woman..."

Bucky watched as Steve once again drifted into a dream world. He knew how that went considering it happened to him practically every time he thought of Y/N.

"I'm happy for you Stevie. And don't worry, I'll keep it on the down low. I know how important the beginning of a relationship is, and with our friend group, I'm not going to chance ruining that," Bucky laughed half joking, half being serious.

"You can tell Y/N. Just  Y/N though," Steve laughed.

"Ok, good. That was my next question..." Bucky grinned.

"Come on. Let's get you moved in," Steve nudged as they went back outside for another load.

___________

"Y/N, this place is going to be beautiful!" Nat said, raising her glass as the group of friends sat in the living room on the new furniture.

There were boxes scattered everywhere in their designated rooms, some opened but not unpacked. Only things out were some coasters for the end tables, and a few accent pillows that came with the couches today.

"It's true. I saw some of the decorations you have boxed up, and just by the looks of it this place is going to be stunning," Maria nodded, taking a sip of her wine.

"How many bedrooms?" Clinton budded in.

"Four including the master. So enough for you guys to crash if you ever get too drunk to leave," Bucky winked wrapping his arms around Y/N's middle on the chair they were snuggled into.

"Careful to make that offer. I may never leave," Sam laughed with a smirk.

"Everyone but you," Bucky said with a fake glare.

"You see how he treats me, Y/N? So mean and for no reason," Sam fake pouted.

"Oh, quit it you two. Always teasing the other until someone actually gets their feelings hurt," Y/N waved them off. "Sam, you are more than welcome to stay here when you want."

"Thank you," he said in a proud tone as if he won.

"Of course after day 3 there will be a rent fee," Y/N added with a smirk of her own as she took a long sip of her drink.

"Hey!" Sam said, choking on his drink a little.

"That's my girl," Bucky laughed.

"So what did you guys decide on for the flat? Are you going to sell it or..." Wanda asked turning to them from where she was sat by Vis.

"I'm going to rent it out for cheap to some college kids. No point in bumping the price when I don't really need the extra money. I remember how hard it was for people to find affordable housing during that time, and that way I can still keep it. It's already paid off," Bucky answered.

"That's a good idea and sweet of you. College me would have jumped for a place to stay like that for cheap," Nat nodded.

"Y/N thought of it. I was going to sell it, but made better sense to just rent it out," Bucky shrugged.

"Ok, enough boring adult talk! Tell us how it happened!" Maria jumped in.

"Gotta be more specific sis," Y/N laughed.

"The proposal! We've all seen the ring! Now give us the details!"

"Ok, ok. You wanna tell it or me?" Y/N turned to Bucky who just smiled and shrugged.

"We both can, but you start."

"Ok," she smiled before turning to the group. "So we came out here just to set up some lights and see the finished product of the house."

The rest of the story later, the girls were ooing and aweing at the sentiment. The men just grinning and sending smirks to Bucky for the romantic kind of man he apparently had been hiding from them.

After some more catching up, Y/N giving the girls room tours as well as sharing her decor ideas, while Bucky took the guys out and showed them the land and what they planned to build, the crew started packing up.

Bucky and Y/N said goodbye to everyone as they packed into their cars, and waved to them until they were out the driveway and headed back to the city.

Y/N let out a sigh and turned back to the house. Bucky followed and wrapped his arms around her as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

"We have a lot of unboxing to do," she said.

"Yep, but we unpacked a lot tonight. Let's save the rest for tomorrow."

"Yeah, ok." She turned back and gave him a hug as she fell into him. "I love you."

"I love you even more Y/N. Let's go to bed."

________

The next night, Bucky got a call from work saying they had a business trip that Stark had set up for the two to travel and speak with a few investors on some new projects. Something that was bound to take place in the merger. It just so happened to come up when the two were moving in and had a shit ton of boxes to unpack.

"How long?" Y/N asked once Bucky got done explaining Starks travel plans, and they unboxed some items for one of the guest rooms.

"Sounds like a couple of weeks. No more than two, hopefully only one," Bucky sighed. "I can see if I can make it shorter. I don't want to leave you to unpack all by yourself, and maybe the investors-"

"What are you talking about?" Y/N laughed, stopping and turning to Bucky from the bedside table she was organizing. "You don't have to make your work shorter just because I need help unpacking some boxes."

"Well, no, but-"

"I know what you're doing B. It's not going to work."

"I'm not doing anything..." Bucky mumbled, looking down at the bed frame he was currently screwing in the last few pieces into place for.

"You don't want to travel with Stark for up to two weeks, and you're using moving as an excuse. Nope. Nuh uh. You're going mister," she said matter a factly as she plugged in the bed side lamp and brushed her hands off.

"And what if I don't want to go cause I don't want to leave you?" Bucky said with a raised eyebrow standing up.

"It's your work Bucky. You're going to have to leave sometimes to take care of business." Her hands were crossed over her chest and hip popped. Bucky places his hands on his hips in an attempt to mock her sass.

"You want me out of the house or something?" he joked.

"No... I've just noticed you've been pushing work to the side, and trying to distract yourself from it and using the house as an excuse."

"I'm not-"

"James Buchanan Barnes. You have a huge, crazy busy, growing, multimillion dollar business to run. You can't keep distancing yourself from it just because you don't like Stark all that much," she said, taking a step closer and Bucky matched her.

He paused. She was right. He had been finding any excuse to work from home, or only going in during times Stark wasn't there. He still was extremely annoyed by the man, and the less time he spent with him the better. On the other hand he had been really excited about living with Y/N and being with her more now that they were engaged. 

Screw knowing each other for years. The man was in the honeymoon phase still, and hadn't even glimpsed outside of the puppy love he had for her.

"But what if I don't want to..." he pouted moving closer and putting his hands on her hips as he pulled her in.

"Sucks. You're the big boss man whether you like it or not," she shrugged, still crossing her arms with a playful gleam in her eyes.

"You're kinda scary. You know that?" Bucky chuckled tilting his head to her.

"When I need to be, yes. That's not new news," she said with a sly smirk. "So on that note. Let's get you packed for your trip."

"But-"

"Nope! No excuses bossman!" she said walking out the door to their room.

_________

Y/N was right. This was a big opportunity for the business, and even though Bucky was getting comfortable spending his time with Y/n in their new house, and as a newly engaged couple, he did need to get out and actually work.

The trip ended up being a week and half. Y/N having to stay behind to handle some housing things like plumbing, gas, land surveying and all that fun stuff. That and she still had her job as a personal trainer/ yoga instructor, so she couldn't just up and leave with only a day's notice for almost two weeks.

The two facetimed and talked every night and day. Y/N showing him new places she had got around to decorating and layouts and ideas for the land.

What Bucky didn't know was that Y/N had the girls over almost every night to help her finish up unpacking and decorating before he came home. Sometimes Steve and Sam too if she needed some more heavy duty help.

"Y/N, this is all so stunning. He's going to be so surprised when he gets home," Nat smiled as they all stood looking at the newly decorated home.

"Really? You think? It's not too much is it?" she questioned bringing her hand to her chin as she examined the room they were currently in.

"He's going to love it Y/N. Anything you do he loves, but this is crazy impressive," Steve added as he packed up his tool box. "You ever thought about interior design?"

"That's what Bucky said," Y/N laughed. "And now that I have so many people asking me that," she looked at Maria, Wanda, and Nat who had also been commenting on it all day, "It's starting to sound like a possible fun side-job."

"Well, I'll pay you to come revamp my apartment if you do anything close to this," Maria grinned, taking a swig from a beer bottle.

"You got it," Y/N laughed. "Ok, I need to go pick him up from the airport in about an hour, so I'm going to go get changed and do a few last minute things. Thanks again you guys for coming out here and helping."

"Anytime! Maria and I love the scenic drive here, and it gives us a chance to see your fucking gorgeous home," Nat smirked bumping her hip with Y/N.

"That and you know you can always call if you need a handy man when Bucks not here," Steve added, picking up the tool box.

"Thanks for that Stevie. I appreciate you," she said giving him a small peck on the cheek.

"Yeah, I'm just here for the free alcohol," Wanda teased as she downed the rest of her beer. "Helps when Nat's driving."

The crew laughed at the red head and started heading for the door.

"Let us know what he thinks! And when you guys are ready, we can have a housewarming party since it's all done!" Nat shouted as she walked to the car.

"Will do! Love you guys! Drive safe!" Y/N shouted and waved from the porch as they loaded up and made their way down the long driveway.

Once they were out of sight, Y/N turned to look at the finished product of their home. The lights on the porch were hung and turned on. The inside was lit up and bringing life and a sense of comfort to it.

"How did I get so lucky?" Y/N sighed as she thought about the life that was to come with her special person. All she had to do was pick him up from the airport, and yet another milestone would be made.

(Ok pictures are coming next chapter!) 

Just Roommates:

@starfirerules​ @buckys-blunders​ @alexxcorona113​ @tcc-gizmachine​ @vrgelivvvv​ @nighttwingg​ @firefly-in-darkness​ @mizzzpink​ @poppunkdork​ @nerdygirlwithacrush​ @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater​ @ellaenchanted91​ @sebbbystaaan​

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @heyiamthatbitch​ @zeilenkrieg​ @lizzymacy555​ @iheartsebastianstan​ @srrymydood​ @xa-dia​ @redhairedfeistynerd​

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravic​ @traceyaudette​ @kakakatey​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @laneygthememequeen​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @snffbeebee​ @thefaithfulwriter​ @marvelfansworld​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​ @naomi02hook​ @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​​ @gh0stgurl​​ @cs-please​​ @carls1022​​ @jjlevin​​ @rainbowkisses31​​ @carls1022​​ @anise-d-castle6​​ @deannotmoose​​ @their-bibliophile​​ @kitkatd7​

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes au series #justkending #bucky barnes roommate su #marvel #marvel au #marvel roommate au #Winter Soldier #winter soldier au #bucky barnes x reader

[florvinhara]

my detectives (part 1)

kjahfjhsj i can have a little infodumping... as a treat... anyway this was originally gonna be 1 post but then i got carried away so part 1 in the series of me ranting abt my detectives!

Kira Isabella Song

Romances N, F, or M

Age: 25 at the start of book 1, currently 26

Birthday: February 7

Star sign: Aquarius sun, Taurus moon, Scorpio rising

Height: 5’7”

Hair: Short, ash blonde, a little longer than chin length

Eyes: dark brown

Race/ethnicity: Korean-American

Other appearance details: Several beauty marks on face and body. a few subtle scars on face/legs from falling out of trees, etc. fingers are callused from band practice and left hand fingers are a little crooked from being broken.

Languages: English, Spanish, a few basic phrases in some other languages

Stats:

Charming/Intimidating

Impulsive/Cautious

Sarcastic/Genuine

Friendly/Stoic

Easygoing/Stubborn

Heart/Mind (equal)

Optimist/Pessimist

Team player/Independent

Primary skills: Science & combat

Strengths: Trustworthy, strong, courageous, calm under pressure, compassionate, thorough, clever, good intuition, self-sufficient, sure of herself

Weaknesses: Petty, caustic, distrustful, secretive, lackadaisical, insubordinate, emotionally unintelligent, can be disdainful, uncommunicative, contrary

Personal:

overall body language is casual and unbothered, lowkey her posture is kind of yikes RIP but she has a very fluid way of moving

her voice is smooth and somewhat low in pitch, very even in tone

Loud and/or jumbled sounds sometimes overwhelm her; she usually has noise cancelling headphones with her just in case

Rebellious as a teenager; she started skipping school and getting into fights, did some graffiti and one time she stole a street sign that she may or may not still have

When she wasn’t breaking rules, etc. she was taking boxing lessons, chilling in the library, going on runs, or playing bass guitar in her band

Wanted to get out of Wayhaven as soon as possible after college but was arrested after she came back because she was selling fake IDs and stole a car; absolutely did not want to be law enforcement but Rebecca and the captain essentially made her

The deal was that she would work at the station for 5 years and if she did well/stayed out of trouble she could then quit- she's 3 years into it

deep down if she wasnt a detective she would want to be a paramedic

She shares a lot of mannerisms with Rebecca and they’re way more similar than she’d like to admit

Birds FREAK her out seriously; she’ll deny that she’s afraid of them but she’ll cross the street to get away from them, also hates crowded places and deep water

Scary resting face and has a habit of just... eerily staring at people who are bothering her until they get spooked, but she's not actually that angry or grouchy, she's really just Vibing u know? she's not gonna correct anyone's impression though or they might start like... Talking to her :/

Loves any book/movie/show with a secret society or spy element and stories about a Hero and their Journey, also loves angsty philosophy books; her favorite movies are cheesy but feel-good (The Mummy, Pacific Rim, anything with big CGI monsters)

Doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth but would kill someone for strong coffee; if she’s really tired you can catch her drinking it cold straight from the pot with a straw

Emo/pop punk teen and she definitely cried when MCR broke up, she also listens to a lot of Dixie Chicks, Johnny Cash, Dottie West, Patsy Cline, etc

She’s been drawing since she was a kid- mainly works with charcoal and sometimes pastels. her sketchbooks are like her diaries and she’s never shown them to Anyone Ever

In her spare time, she still plays some guitar, draws, or reads; her library is extensive because she keeps every book she’s ever read or intends to read (it’s one of the few things she’ll drop real money on)

Very tactile person and fussy about textures, she prefers ultra soft blankets/pillows and her bed is basically a nest

Practical, efficient, frugal- she doesn’t necessarily find joy in cooking or anything but she can do it well enough, quick showers, uses cheap soap/shampoo, cuts her own hair

Her hands get super dry/chapped in the winter and it hurts very much :(

Never yells; when she gets angry she’s very cold & will Not hold back; every word is designed to hurt bc she’s purposefully poking at things she knows are sore spots

At the start of the books, she’s kind of... sleepwalking through life? like, she was in a not-great place mentally for most of her teens and didn’t really have a plan for the future but law enforcement was definitely not it? She isn’t feeling super passionate about what she’s doing and it kind of sucks to not have joy in purpose :( luckily that’s changing and is gonna be a significant part of her journey through the series!

Her apartment is cluttered but clean and she knows where everything is, if someone moved one of her things she would not be able to find it and it would bother her until she located it

She’s not stubborn exactly? Like she’ll concede an argument if it’s not super important to her and has no problem with losing or backing down in many cases; she’s pretty open minded in that respect, but if something is central to her values then she will Die before she backs down

On that note she’s overall a very logical person but when it comes down to it she'll follow her heart/first instinct

Does not care about rules or procedures At All, she'll follow them if it suits her end goal but otherwise... nope

Lowkey she… did not care about the reveal? it was a surprise but not her first priority in the moment- she kind of already thought UB was sketchy and didn’t trust them, so mainly she was pissed off that Rebecca had sent them to babysit her instead of actually help solve the murders

Speaking of Rebecca their relationship is kind of yikes. Kira isn’t exactly mad that Rebecca was gone so often, but she does think that she kind of forfeited her parenting rights and was annoyed that Rebecca was interfering with her life; first by getting her on the force and then by dropping UB on her. So now it’s Very Awkward between them because Kira doesn’t want to be like… mean but honestly what is there to say?? They’re trying but neither of them like to share personal information so it’s rough

On the subject of sharing, she just… genuinely doesn’t like to open up. Like, it doesn’t come naturally and in her mind it’s just… nobody else’s business what she’s feeling/what’s going on in her life

Genuinely does not realize that people care about her unless they openly tell her lmao... sad hours but at this point in the story she honestly doesnt think that any of UB cares abt her beyond their job besides the one she's dating :(

"Everyone should be allowed to feel things and rely on the support of the people around them, their emotions are Valid. not me though, this is my personal problem and as such its dumb so i have to get over it alone"

Her primary love language is acts of service, she wants the people she loves to have everything they might need; she’s Soft and really just wants snuggles but also she does not want to address it out loud

Her way of asking for affection is to just... stand/sit there and occasionally glance at the person... hovers like a sad ghost until she gets a hug... literally like 🥺👉👈 sjdhdkn Clown girl

She’s sarcastic and makes a lot of snarky comments, but generally she’s pretty honest unless she doesn’t want to talk about something (in which case she’ll brush it off and deflect or change subjects) which is why it annoys her so much when people are willfully dishonest or conniving

Pretty adaptable and capable of rolling with the punches but she generally dislikes surprises and being the center of attention

genuinely she's pretty chill! and a Huge enabler of chaos as well, like unless it's specifically bothering her she's gonna let it happen and mostly she thinks it's pretty funny to watch from the sidelines

in short she's basically like a feral cat who stares suspiciously at everyone from a distance until they successfully pspspsps their way into her heart and then she would die for them <3 but if she's mad she will make direct eye contact while shoving glasses off the counter

ahdgsksg ok last one i swear she Cannot Sit Properly, always has to be some flavor of lounging or leaning or sitting twisted into a pretzel

#my eternal love for u if u made it thru this whole post <3 #lowkey these are gonna double as my writing notes which are currently scattered between 5 million notes on my phone #ANYWAY #twc

[avenger-hawk]

Hey hawk, did you observe a pattern among people who participate in Woke-ism culture, they seem to have similar "traits" and "personality"? Dislike the "straight" orientation (usually identify themselves as gay/lesbian/bi and brags they are LGBT every second), they seem to think gender identity is a personality trait etc therefore "I'm holier than thou because I list myself as she/he/they/it". I bet they are gonna scream at me for being whatever "phobic" just because of this post lol

*clears throat* yeah they gonna scream at you but they can’t scream at me because it’s been a year that I am in an lgbt relationship soooo xD

Ofc I noticed this kind of behavior, these woke ppl really like be ‘different’ and tbh the thing I find more irritating is when they define themselves ‘autistic’ or ‘asperger’ or ‘adhd’ whathever other mental illness/condition, because these are serious things that should be diagnosed by a specialist and not an online tests, and usually ppl who have a real problem are not so incredibly vocal about it. Sure they don’t brag with it....”but I don’t have money to take a test and my parents don’t let me!” they say? yeah. could be. but it also could be that you just wanna look special and since you’re socially anxious or shy or just a b*tch, you like to play rude and then justify yourself with those labels, and if someone dares tell you you’re a piece of shit you can call them ableist lol

Same for race or country. Not taking anything away from populations/countries/cultures/religions that have been oppressed, but sometimes I cringe cause some ppl try so hard to fit in this. Like, at some point 99% of populations were invaded by others and oppressed, and I’m sorry for welsh ppl, to just name one (no offense it’s the first that came to my mind cause I read a post recently lol) but if this continues we’re gonna have to seek justice for the victims of the vikings’ raids lolol

Anyway, back to what you were saying. I partly get that lgbt ppl are vocal about what they are bc maybe they can’t tell their families or friends, and they use social media as outlets. but like you said, your personality is not defined by who you f*ck and/or love (It’s not even defined by the fiction you like, actually, but they think so). So while I understand ppl describe themselves in their profile and specify their gender identity and sexuality, for me it’s cringey when they take it too far. Like when they start with all the labels ever, or they make combinations...demisexual panromantic/asexual demiromantic/trans nonbinary aroace spectrum...sounds like a competition of who’s less ordinary. Bonus points if they also add race and illness. Bonus points if they pretend they’re experts and activist and they shit on ppl who ship something or speak of top/bottom bc they’re fetishizing gay mlm/wlw and how dare they, dirty cishets (cause Anon, straight is a too banal word lol).

(also...not to offend ‘aroace’ ppl out there but...when someone is like 12...couldn’t it be that they’re just...too young for caring about sex/love? asking for a friend lolol)

I mean, tumblr has a lot of lgbt ppl and it’s cool, and I know it’s hard to live as an lgbt person cause you can’t do what het ppl do normally, like kissing in public or holding hands or writing cute posts on fb bc someone might bitch or be even worse, so this creates a bitterness and aggressiveness on social media I guess, especially here where minorities are the majority lol. And I too, on my personal blog, occasionally ranted about things like internalized homophobia and queerbaiting, but only very rarely lol and no one paid attention to me, guess I am not lgbt enough hahahah

But, it’s stupid to use sexuality labels as a shield to shit on ppl and then call them --phobic when they react. It actually happened to me a couple of years ago, I wrote something about bottom Sasuke and this self defined aromantic+asexual+autistic+gay american dude attacked me for fetishizing gays. Back then I was in a relationship with a guy so for him I was only a boring straight person I guess, a gross fujoshi who dared like mlm haha. fuck him. If I were the same type of person as him I would have pulled the oppressed card, I could have attacked him reminding him that his country treated italian immigrants like animals, and that they had this veeeery big problem of being unsure about our ‘race’ so in their papers they often wrote ? cause they couldn’t understand if we were poc or not...but it would have been kinda off topic and I cartainly don’t waste time talking about me to ppl I don’t even trust to be what they say.

Also because I was raised by parents who were very politically involved, so I remember them doing activism, like, getting out of the house, going to protests, doing volunteering, even taking me along when I was little. So even tho now everything happens online first, and even tho posts can spread awareness and change ppl’s minds, I still don’t trust when I see those blogs full of angry woke activism, because they seem fake and even those ppl seem fake. It’s easy to scream for justice from a keyboard, in a comfortable house. It’s less easy to protest in the cold, risking to have problems with the police, the government, the pandemic, whatever else.

It’s irritating that wokies want to take the right to like smth in the right way or whatever, telling everyone else who don’t fit in the minority group that they can’t like the thing. Idk, I just wish ppl were like in Eastern Asian fandoms, not making everything about themselves, being open minded enough for whatever ‘different’ thing whether they are into it or not, and if they’re not ignoring it only.

And I do get wanting to fit the minority, as a teenager I was veery punk/gothic, depending on the moment, and I never fit in the majority opinions or habits anyway. And I was kind of fluid with my identity and sexuality, but silly me, I kept it for myself, even tho I discussed with those who insulted lgbt ppl and I wrote stuff where everyone is bisexual by default, thinking that it was how people were born before society conditioned them...I could have bragged but I had no idea about ‘fluid’ or ‘pan’, silly me.

I am so irritated at everything, like the words they use, even the english language that is not mine, is getting on my nerves because it’s the vehicle for their crap, but these periodically trending words are disgusting like these ppl to me.

I migth have gone out of topic again lol.

#replies &co #fanon and fandom stuff #kinda #lol this gonna make me lose followers #couldn't care less I hate fake ppl #Anonymous

[wigwurq]

WIG REVIEW: WONDER WOMAN 1984

You guys! Now that the holidaze are over, I finally got around to watching the #1 most hated movie of the holiday season: Wonder Woman 1984! People have so many opinions about this movie AND NOW I DO TOO! I even have some thoughts on the wigs! Let’s discuss.

We begin in Themyscira, land of Amazons, fishtail braidology, Robin Wright, NO EFFING MEN, and also this weird Amazon gladiator gauntlet that is mainly brought to you by lots of computers. Baby Gal Gadot (nee Wonder Woman) is allowed to compete in this CGI decathalon despite being 1/3 the size and age of the other competitors and almost wins the damn thing but Auntie Robin Wright disqualifies her for trying to cheat to win. About 4 hours later, toward the end of this movie, Wonder Woman also tries to “cheat” at something so this is kinda sorta foreshadowing if you believe that the writers of this screenplay even had that forethought! 

Moving ahead to 1984, this movie just gets SO 1984. Or really “1984″ in the Stranger Things sense, in that they even used the damn mall that that show takes place in and some dumb criminals steal some jewelry and Wonder Woman saves the day and also comically saves some kids who could have been hurt. I am still bitterly injured by Gal Gadot’s wig, which is not so bent and tangled as the first Wonder Woman movie. Still, the general texture and quality leave something to be desired AS DOES THIS WHOLE MOVIE BUT I AM GETTING AHEAD OF MYSELF!! Anyway, other than foiling crimes at malls, Gal Gadot mainly lives a sad single life in DC where she pines away for Chris Pine in her fabulous apartment, surrounded by an astonishing amount of photographs of her late boyfriend, given the fact that the pictures she has of him are from the 1910s when not everyone had a damn photo printer. Absent of course, is the photograph of her and her ragtag WWI buddies which is delivered to her at the end of the first Wonder Woman movie in the present day and therefore hasn’t happened yet and here begins and ends all logic in this movie. 

Anyway! Gal Gadot works with Kristen Wiig, who does her fabulously awkward Kirsten Wiig thing as a nerdy scientist who is largely overlooked by all of society and who wears upsetting culottes and oversized sweatshirts and drinks Bartles and Jaymes (THIS MOVIE MISSES NO OPPORTUNITIES TO #80s). Her wig, as all wigs worn by Kristen Wiig in movies, is a horrible mess of bad texture and general bentness. Also, together she and Gal Gadot are sifting through the jewelry stolen by those thieves at the mall and there is one particular giant crystal or whatever that seems to possess magical properties. Yes, like the Infinity Stones that came (and then kept coming!)  AND YES I REALIZE THAT THAT IS MCU AND THIS IS DC BUT IT DOESN’T MATTER: EVERY GODDAMNED SUPERHERO MOVIE IS SOMEHOW ABOUT HAUNTED JEWELRY.

Enter Pedro Pascal in the most outrageous 80s wig in honestly the most outrageous 80s role. He essentially plays Donald Trump - a start-up conning people out of money who is also a terrible dad and has terrible hair. I really wondered for much of this movie if this wig was supposed to be a wig, because it looks as fake and wig-like as Trump’s hair, but no - I think this is supposed to be real hair! Truly truly truly outrageous. Anyway, dude basically doesn’t want to work hard to get rich (again, much like Trump!) and instead wants to just wish his way into success via this dream crystal that Gal Gadot and Kristen Wiig have.

OH AND THEY ALREADY WISHED ON THE CRYSTAL! Kristen Wiig wishes to be like Gal Gadot (not realizing that she’s actually wishing to be Wonder Woman) and gets the most outrageous makeover into this bleached blonde nightmare. AND EVERYONE IS JUST LIKE WOW YOU’RE NOT WEARING CULOTTES ANYMORE I GUESS THIS IS NORMAL FOR YOU TO SUDDENLY LOOK THIS WAY AND FOR YOUR HAIR TO INEXPLICABLY BE INCHES LONGER IN THE COURSE OF AN AFTERNOON. Also! Although this bleached blonde wig is maybe an upgrade from her mousy wig from before, that really means nothing as both wigs are garbage.

Gal Gadot’s wish, of course, was for her ain’ true love, Chris Pine, to come back. AND THEN HE DOES! SORTA! Despite being definitely exploded in a plane in 1918 (in the first movie - spoiler?), he just kinda walks into this fancy party like “hey what’s up?” OH EXCEPT FOR ONE SMALL THING.

HE LOOKS LIKE THIS DUDE TO EVERYONE ELSE EXCEPT GAL GADOT. Ok? I guess because Chris Pine’s actual physical body was destroyed in 1918, he has to inhabit the body of this random man credited only as ‘Handsome Man’ in 1984 which really begs the question - what then happens to this handsome dude while Chris Pine shapeshifts into him and does anyone care? ALSO! Plot-wise, this is just the tip of the iceberg in crystal wishes - basically everyone on earth gets a wish before film’s end and all are fulfilled no matter how ludicrous - and yet no other wish seem to have these sort of strings attached EXCEPT FOR WONDER WOMAN! WHY DOES ONLY WONDER WOMAN GET THE PET SEMATARY OF WISHES?!?!?!

Anyway! Lucky for us all, ‘Handsome Man’ has the most 80s closet ever! As we all know, movies set in the 80s are contractually obligated to provide us with a very 80s fashion montage and this one is ALL ABOUT CHRIS PINE. Somehow, ‘Handsome Man’ owns like 10 different fanny packs?!?! Every single 80s menswear disaster is covered here at least three times you guys.

About 3 hours later, he settles on this outfit! Mazel!  I’d like to pause this review to now give my definitive breakdown of CHRIS rankings (limited only to the 4 young-ish, blonde-ish Chris actors who appear in superhero movies) so that I might now abbreviate Chris Pine to #2 Chris WHICH HE IS. Ahem:

- BEST CHRIS is obviously CHRIS EVANS. This is because he gets into Twitter wars with racists, he offered his arm of support to Regina King when she stumbled getting her Oscar, and he wears the shit out of a sweater. There are many other reasons also but no other Chris can compare - HE IS BEST CHRIS.

- WORST CHRIS is obviously CHRIS PRATT. This is because he is super Jesusy evangelical and also anti-LGBTQ and married a Schwarzenegger (tho Arnold wishes he was Evans too!). There are many other reasons why but those are the most important reasons. WORST CHRIS.

- #2 CHRIS is a constant battle between CHRIS HEMSWORTH AND CHRIS PINE. Hemsworth is very funny in the lady Ghostbusters, was once on Dancing With The Stars in Australia, and can really commit to a fatsuit. Pine is great at singing on a Wet Hot American Summer roof OR a river, loves caftans, and is loved by the one and only Wonder Woman. It’s an infinity tie between these two and therefore #2 Chris is in the eye of the beholder during whatever you are beholding, and currently we’re beholding Pine. #2 CHRIS! 

Yes, this lengthy roundup was definitely worth it so that I can abbreviate Chris Pine to #2 Chris now. Moving on!

So Gal Gadot and #2 Chris walk through a very 80s DC while #2 Chris’s mind gets blown by all the stuff that is different in the 70s years he’s been dead. No 80s movie would be complete without of course covering PUNKS!!! This is where this movie definitely lost my husband because one of these punks is wearing a Cro-Mags shirt from an album THAT CAME OUT IN 1986. This offends me, also, not because I care about that band but because this is lazy costuming! Apparently, my husband was not the only one to notice this and become deeply offended - and Cro-Mags cofounder even chimed in to say that this is all ok because they released a demo for the ‘86 album in 1984 (AND WE ALL KNOW EVERYONE DEFINITELY MAKES SHIRTS BASED ON DEMO ALBUMS?) I still find this lazy and stupid costuming and remain annoyed! ANYWAY!

Back to the “plot”...Kristen Wiig and Pedro Pascal’s confederacy of bad wigs kinda sorta hook up at this dumb party so that Pedro Pascal can steal that very important wishing crystal! AND THEN HE WISHES ON THE CRYSTAL THAT HE CAN BE THE CRYSTAL. Haunted jewelry plots have never been so dumb as this you guys! AND ALL OF THE INFINITY STONES MOVIES WERE INFINITELY STUPID SO THIS IS REALLY SAYING SOMETHING.

So basically, after 70 years apart, Gal Gadot and #2 Chris have no more time to waste on fanny pack fashion shows or questionable metro punks and have to follow Pedro Pascal to Egypt, where he has gone to demand some oil from Egypt now that he is the physical manifestation of a wishing crystal. In order to get to Egypt themselves, Gal and #2 Chris steal a plane from the Smithsonian (which apparently just has some jets laying around some random tarmac) and then Gal WISHES THE JET INTO BEING INVISIBLE! This is obviously to fuel Wonder Woman invisible jet nostalgia and also to waste about 45 minutes on shots of them invisibly flying through fireworks. BECAUSE IT’S THE 4TH OF JULY WAIT HOW DID THEY VISIT ANY MUSEUMS OR DO ANYTHING ON A NATIONAL HOLIDAY EARLIER THAT DAY OH RIGHT THERE IS NO LOGIC IN THIS MOVIE. Over in Egypt, the wishing crystal Pedro Pascal hisself somehow creates a water shortage and refugee crisis in Egypt and Gal has to Wonder Woman some kids to safety, but mainly she wears this amazing jumpsuit and is able to find a working payphone to call Kristen Wiig and ask if she has any intel on that damn wishing crystal.

Kristen Wiig is somehow EVEN MORE BLONDE AND WEARING THIS DAMN COAT. I mean...you guys. WHAT. Like any good 80s thriller, Kristen Wiig researched the wishing crystal on microfiche which leads her to a random record store where she meets up with Gal and #2 Chris who I guess flew the invisijet back to DC from Egypt in a few minutes or something. Anyway, rando dude at the record store takes out some musty old book that has all the wishing crystal information everyone needed and basically warns that it can destroy society AND ALSO it can take things away from the wisher like a damn monkey’s paw. SPEAKING OF MONKEYS THAT COAT THE END.

But Kristen Wiig’s makeover is far from over! She finally appears as Cheetah herself at the damn White House, where the wishing crystal Pedro Pascal is asking a fake Ronald Reagan (?) if he can please satellite everyone on the earth so he can grow stronger as a crystal person OR SOMETHING? Anyway, Kristen’s lewk is very “punk” but not in a Cro-Mag way, but more in a Meryl Streep in Ricki and the Flash way? It’s a battle of not great wigs, at any rate. Kristen doesn’t want anyone harming her wishing crystal Pedro since that’s what made her Cheetah so there is this huge dumb fight where Pedro and Kristen just kinda glide away (not unlike actual Trump and his idiots last week and omg did this movie foretell that) and then Gal realizes that she has to denounce her wish because the monkey paw’s clause of it all is making her not powerful enough to fight anymore. So #2 Chris is like: I should just be dead anyway and my whole existence is very Pet Sematary and everyone kind of cries in an alley and #2 Chris dies again (?) Also! I think this is supposed to have been foretold by that earlier scene with baby Gal Gadot trying to cheat at that decathalon or whatever because you can’t cheat....death??? Regardless, Gal jumps into the sky and somehow is ABLE TO FLY BASED ON AERODYNAMIC FACTS #2 CHRIS GAVE HER WHILE FLYING AN INVISIJET? SURE!

Over in another plane, Pedro and Kristen are on their way to some satellite island to broadcast to the world about crystal wishes and dude is not looking so great because wishing that you are a crystal is a terrible idea. This is the point at which I realized that this wig was supposed to be real hair because it looks so sweaty and shitty but has consistently looked like a shitty wig through this entire “plot.” Anyway! He asks Kristen Wiig if she wants another wish which....huh? Somehow Gal Gadot’s wish ended up a Pet Sematary nightmare of possessed handsome man bodies that she had to renounce but Kristen Wiig gets two wishes? SURE! AND KRISTEN WIIG WISHES THAT SHE BECOME THE “ULTIMATE PREDATOR” WHAT ON EARTH IS THIS MOVIE Y’ALL.

APPARENTLY THIS IS WHAT AN ULTIMATE PREDATOR LOOKS LIKE?!?!?! YOU GUYS. In order to literally become a Cheetah, they gave Kristen Wiig a CGI body and....kabuki makeup? This lewk absolutely looks like a mashup between two dueling community theater productions of Cats and Pacific Overtures and I can’t stop laughing. 

Meanwhile, Gal finally gets to rock this lewk which was earlier described as the battle armor of the goddess, Asteria, who was the one chick NOT invited to  Themyscira for Amazonian fishtail braidology times, and had to stay behind to FIGHT EVERY MAN ON EARTH but did get this sweet armor out of it?!?! Regardless, despite withstanding all men ever, Cheetah somehow effs up this armor in a matter of seconds, but Gal is still able to defeat her through underwater electrocution (which somehow avoids Gal herself even though SHE’S WEARING AN ENTIRE SUIT OF METAL). 

Anyway, in the end, the entire world is on the brink of collapse and eveyone is looking at old dumb 80s tv screens because of all the dumb wishes everyone made and I guess I appreciate the fact that this entire movie is about dumb 80s wish fulfillment but also there are so many plotholes that I can’t even, you guys. Gal somehow lassoes Pedro Pascal into remembering his shitty dad and realizes that he is now a shitty dad and everyone somehow renounces their wishes and Pedor Pascal just kind of WALKS OFF AN ISLAND INTO THE DEBRIS OF DC AND FINDS HIS CHILD BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD?!?!?!?! It’s really annoying that this movie somehow rewards this shitty dad but also doesn’t let a woman (specifically WONDER WOMAN) have both a love life and her own damn job and I’m not alone in being annoyed by that. ANYWAY, days or weeks after the entire world almost ended, there is somehow a cute Christmas carnival that was definitely a stolen set from Dolly Parton’s Christmas in the Square where Gal Gadot is reunited with ‘Handsome Man’ who has no knowledge of previously being possessed by #2 Chris and is still rocking ALL THIS 80s FASHION and then a star shaped balloon is released into the sky and I wonder if this entire movie has been a Macy’s ad. 

BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE! In a mid-credits scene which is also maybe the only watchable part of this movie, the goddess Asteria (and OG owner of that gold body armor) is revealed to be alive and well and played by OG Wonder Woman, LYNDA EFFING CARTER!! She is definitely an actual goddess who never ages and whose hair is way better than any wigs on display at any point in this movie and is also the only part of the movie you should watch. THE END.

VERDICT: DOESN’T WURQ

#wonderwoman84 #ww84 #wigwurq #galgadot #chrispine #2chris #chrisrankings #kirstenwiig #cheetah #punks #THE80S #contractualfashionmontages #pedropascal #hauntedjewelry #lyndacarter

[pixiegrl]

The Monster Mash, It Was a Graveyard Smash

This was a Halloween fic for the 5SOS Halloween Fic Event organized by @ashesonthefloor! Thank you for doing this! I had alot of fun writing this fic. Shout out to Liz for editing! And Mel for being my hype woman and letting me bounce ideas off you!

The prompt was: "That's not a Halloween costume? You actually look like that??" (could be fangs, horns, wings, literally whatever supernatural element you want) Or one person has supernatural aspects and spends Halloween night with the other person. The other doesn't realize it's not a costume until they're gold/the next day/whatever you decide to do"

It’s also on ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27262129/

Luke is regretting his decision to tell Michael that he would get the decorations for their apartment. He only agreed because Michael loves Halloween, but he cannot be trusted to do the shopping. He’ll buy everything in the store and then will they not only have money, Luke will have to spend the whole month being terrified of his apartment and what might pop out at him. Michael is endlessly fascinated by Halloween, a holiday fairies don’t celebrate. It’s a human-made holiday, and before they left Australia and their little home clan of magic to move to New York, they’d never encountered anything like it. Even though they’ve been here for roughly five years now and have come to understand most of the other holidays people celebrate, Michael loves Halloween the most. It’s the one thing he insists on celebrating, despite Luke’s protests against it. Luke likes fall, but he doesn’t like being scared, which seems to be Michael’s favorite part. He’s been banned from decoration shopping since the time he hung a skeleton from the ceiling that caused Luke to scream and cry upon entering the apartment. 

Luke doesn’t get Halloween. It’s such a human holiday and, despite how much he likes dressing up and eating candy, he doesn’t understand Michael's fascination with it. He finds the whole thing to be too scary and overdone for his liking. 

Usually, they have enough Halloween decorations for the apartment but, in a fit of rage last year, Luke threw some of them out after Michael had left a fake spider in his bed. Which is probably one of the reasons that Michael forced Luke to go this year. It’s his least favorite thing, having to go to the store and go through the aisles to find something that Michael likes. Luke doesn’t like anything terrifying, which is unfortunately all Michael ever wants. Luke has already had to avoid the fake snakes and serial killer franchise masks just to get to the decorations.

He’s been standing in the decorations aisle for twenty minutes now, trying to decide between the scary decorations (some kind of bloody werewolf head, which Luke thinks might be inaccurate) and the cute ones (a small, smiling purple bat). He’s also partial to the black rose wreath hanging up, but he’s worried Michael will say it’s too “soft” for the scary punk vibes he prefers. He also knows Michael desperately wants to impress his new boyfriend, Calum, with their decorations. 

Luke is finally steeling himself to take the werewolf's head and be done with it when he hears a groan next to him. 

“You’re not really going to take that, are you?” The voice says. There’s an Australian accent there, which surprises Luke so far away from home. So far in New York, it feels like it’s just him and Michael and now Michael’s boyfriend Calum, who are from his home country. He turns, wondering what kind of stranger just decides to address someone in the store and is surprised by the person staring back at him. It’s a rather attractive guy, all brown curls with brown eyes and dimples in his cheeks showing as he’s smiling at Luke. Luke blushes, glancing away from him and back to the head. 

“My roommate likes scary decorations and stuff.”

“Well, it’s a horrible stereotype. How would you like it if someone hung your face up on a wall, full of teeth and blood?”

Luke wrinkles his nose. He’s never met a werewolf, but he can’t imagine it would be fun to have people think that. It’s already not fun when he and Michael meet people who automatically assume that fairies are out to trick people and con them. Luke only did that once and it was to pass a class. 

“I guess. But they are hunters.”

“Please, they’d be much more civilized than that. You don’t go around eating your meat raw and bloody do you? Besides, who even hunts to eat anymore?” 

“Well, what about full moons then? What about a transformation?”

“You mean why do werewolves have to hunt and kill? Maybe they just like playing with their friends and rough housing. They certainly don’t look like that,” the guy says, jerking his thumb towards the head.

“Well, I have to go home with something. What do you propose if you’re so against the werewolf head?” Luke asks. The guy lights up immediately, full of enthusiasm. If he was a dog, his tail would be wagging. 

“You seem like someone who would like something elegant. What about this?” He says, pulling the wreath off the rack and handing it to Luke. In this light, up close, Luke can see that there’s glitter on the edges, letting the roses sparkle in the light. Luke runs his finger over the edge, wondering if he can spell it so that the roses will be more realistic and alive, while still being wholly fake and preserved. He’s surprised this stranger was able to figure out so quickly what Luke likes, but it could be the floral shirt that he’s wearing, too.

Luke glances up, smiling gently to show his approval. The guy grins even wider, dimples deepening.  

“What else do you suggest?” Luke asks. The guy immediately starts to pull things from the shelves, babbling at Luke about how nice the various things are, small smiling bats and little arched black cats. He goes around pulling out the most objectively least scary things that somehow manage to be adorable. Luke is a little in love with this man, who’s dumping a fake candelabra into his basket, telling him that the black and gold looks elegant, but spooky. 

They stop in front of the fake animal skeletons. Luke is a little put off by the incorrect spiders and snakes. They’re not supposed to look like that at all, beady eyes staring at him. The cat draws his attention though, arched back and skeletal smile on its jaw. It looks...fun. Wholesome. Luke reaches out and pets along the back, charmed by how incorrect it truly is, little ears and all. 

“You should get it,” The guy says. Luke looks over at him, startled by how fond his face is staring back at Luke. Luke blushes, embarrassed that this guy saw him petting a skeleton cat. The guy doesn’t seem to care, simply picking the cat up and holding it out to him. 

“It’s silly.” 

“Nothing’s silly if it makes you smile,” he says, holding the cat out further towards him. Luke takes her, staring down into the cat’s little face. It smiles back at him. 

“What should I name her? Names are important you know,” Luke says solemnly. It’s a fairy tradition, after all. 

The guy furrows his brow, biting his lip a little. “Name her Petunia. A nice name for a nice cat.” 

Luke smiles, nodding. “Petunia. I like it.” 

The guy grins back at him, “Anytime. Always glad to help a cute stranger on their quest for Halloween.” 

He walks away, throwing Luke a wave and a wink. Luke blushes, staring down at Petunia. Naturally she offers him no advice in the matter. 

It isn’t until Luke gets home and has faced the ire of Michael because of the lack of scary Halloween decorations that he realizes he should have asked the cute guy for his name and number. Now, he’s never going to see him again. It’s the real travesty of the night, leaving Luke sad, followed around by a little storm cloud as he wallows in his unhappiness. 

***

Luke can’t believe he’s waited this long to buy candy. Usually they’re on top of it, big bags of assorted candy bought at the start of the season, ready to give out to the kids in their apartment building and for Luke and Michael to binge eat while watching movies. However, this is the first year they’ve thrown a Halloween party and they’ve mis-estimated the amount of candy needed. They still have a few weeks left, but they’ve realized that the usual two bags won’t cut it if they’re having people over and want to put it out for the party. 

Michael is busy with work all day, but still insisted that if they want to get any of the good stuff, it has to be done today. So now Luke is standing in yet another aisle of a department store, trying to figure out what on Earth Michael means by “the good stuff.” 

Luke knows that he likes Reese’s and that Michael is partial to anything with mint in it, but Luke’s not sure what else to get. Chocolate and candy isn’t really a thing for fairies growing up. It wasn’t until Luke and Michael moved to New York that they’ve even come into contact with the stuff and he’s still learning what it is that people like. He’s got a bag of assorted chocolates, a couple packs of mint chocolate Kit Kat’s for Michael, and a bag of mini Reese’s for himself, but he feels like he’s missing something. 

“You can’t only be buying chocolate,” A voice says next to Luke. Luke startles at the familiar accent, turning to see that it’s the same guy from the decorations. Luke is dumbstruck by the coincidence of the whole thing. Here he was, sure he’d never see the man again and now here he is, standing in the candy  aisle of a Walgreens and telling him that he’s making the wrong candy choices. 

“It’s you,” Luke says, at a loss for what else to say. The guy grins, all sparkling eyes and dimples. He looks like a Disney prince. 

“I’d ask if you’re stalking me, but I don’t know if you’d be doing that in a drug store at 3pm on a Monday. How’d your roommate like the decorations?” 

“Mad that they weren’t scary. Said I ruined the holiday until his boyfriend came over and said he preferred our decorations to the other things he’s seen for the season. Now Michael can’t get enough of them. Although he keeps trying to change Petunia’s name.” 

“Well he’s not allowed to. That’s her name and it’s the only one she’ll answer to,” the guy says, serious expression on his face broken by the wink he sends Luke. Luke blushes, turning back to the candy. 

“First you judge my decoration choices, now you’re judging my choice in candy. What will you judge next?” Luke teases. 

“Well, you pick scary decorations and now chocolate. I’m starting to think you have a vendetta against werewolves.” 

Luke scoffs, trying to put on an air of disbelief. “Come on, you don’t really think werewolves are real.” 

“It is Halloween season. Anything is possible.” He grins. Luke notices his teeth look a little sharper than most people’s, but doesn’t think anything of it. 

“What else am I supposed to buy if not for chocolate? It’s a staple of the season.” 

The guy furrows his brow, turning to look at the shelves of candy. He snaps his fingers and leans down, grabbing a bag of what looks like sour gummies. He tosses the bag into Luke’s basket. 

“Oh, so werewolves don’t like chocolate, but they like candy that hurts to eat.” 

“If werewolves are part dog, they’d have chocolate allergies. Sour candy is safe and allergy free. Besides, maybe they like a little kick with their sweet,” The guy says, winking. 

Is this guy flirting with him? Luke can’t possibly be that lucky. 

“Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that. I tend to prefer saltiness with my chocolate,” Luke says. The guy grins even wider and Luke blushes, realizing it sounds a bit like a come on. 

“Guess you’ll just have to try it and see.” 

Luke turns away, grabbing another bag of sour gummies and putting it in with the others. Luke turns to the guy, ready to ask him for his name and number, when his phone goes off. He shoots Luke an apologetic look and pulls it out of his pocket, eyes going wide when he sees the name of whoever it is. 

“Sorry, I have to take this. Good luck with Halloween.” And with that he rushes out of the store, partially running to get outside. 

Dejected, Luke buys his candy and heads back to the apartment. He dumps it onto the counter, ripping open one of the bags of sour gummies to give it a try. They’re not bad, the little bit of kick at the edge of sweetness is enough to override the loss of feeling Luke’s having in his mouth after the first bag. 

Michael comes home an hour later, finding Luke moping on the couch with his candy. When asked, all Luke can say is that the universe is out to stop him from getting a boyfriend. Michael wants to know what sour gummies, something neither of them has had before, has to do with any of that. 

***

Luke isn’t sure how he ended up here in the Halloween store, but it seems to be where he is. A combination of needing to get away from Michael and Calum’s making out and general boredom has led him here. It’s the last week before Halloween and he’s rummaging through the remains of what’s left for costumes, combing through glittery fairy wings and bad makeup. It’s really his fault for waiting so long to find a costume for the party, but it’s not like Luke actually needs a costume at all. He is a fairy and so, understandably, he already has fairy wings to wear. He has slightly pointed ears and golden eyes and there’s glitter that goes with him everywhere. It doesn’t mean it’s not still fun to go to the stores, watch the teen girls try to look like mermaids and little kids dress up in superhero costumes. Luke just usually tries to go earlier than this because now all that’s left are the rejected costumes and the college students trying to make a mad dash to make something out of whatever is left.

Luke shifts through the fairy costumes so he can send pictures to Michael of what people seem to think fairies look like when someone bumps into him. He startles, turning around. 

The person who’s bumped into him looks to be a guy about his age, with windswept brown hair and large brown eyes. He throws his hands up in mock surrender when he sees Luke looking at him. It reminds Luke vaguely of a puppy who knows they’ve done something wrong and is trying to look innocent. He looks familiar, but Luke’s not sure why.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that. Should really be more careful about where I’m going,” The guy says. Luke perks up at the hint of Australian accent. It can’t be that same guy Luke’s been running into all over town. First with the decorations and then the candy. Is it too much to hope that Luke would meet the cute guy here? What are the odds he’d also be looking for a costume last minute? Maybe the universe doesn’t hate him after all. 

“It’s you! My werewolf decoration and no chocolate guy!” Luke says, grinning when the guy breaks into a full smile.

“I knew you looked familiar! Could never forget a pretty face like that. It seems that fate has brought us together in this horribly placed Halloween store. Ashton,” The guy says, sticking his hand out. Luke takes it gently, letting the guy shake it with far too much enthusiasm for someone he’s only met a handful of times. He really does remind Luke of an overeager puppy. Luke might already have a crush on him, with how cute and happy he is.

“Luke. Feels nice to finally be on a first name basis with the man my roommate has a grudge against now.”

Ashton laughs, a short bark of a thing. “So, what brings you to a costume store so late in the season? You seem too put together to have waited until the last minute, considering how detailed you were about the decorations and the candy.”

Luke blushes. “Oh, I have my costume. I just like to come to the stores and look around. There’s something funny about going to a Halloween store so late and seeing the chaos of it all. Besides, it can never hurt to have too many accessories for a look. Who would wait this long anyway?”

Ashton laughs, “Well, then it seems I’m the chaos you’re looking for. I managed to wait for the last minute for a costume and now I’m rushing to find one for a last minute party. Maybe you could help me?”

Luke’s a little surprised. It’s rather bold of Ashton to ask a stranger to accompany him while looking for costumes. Not that Luke’s going to turn down what feels like a date with a cute guy. He hasn’t gone on a date with a cute guy in ages. Maybe he can manage to convince Ashton to hold his hand. 

“We can certainly try. What are you looking for?” 

“I’m not sure yet. Usually I like to take a look around and see what’s left. Sometimes it’s fun, trying to make a costume out of the things people don’t want.” 

Luke is horrified. “How can you not plan for something like that? Costumes take detail and work. Why would you leave it all up to chance?” 

“Maybe you need to learn to live a little, Luke.” 

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what my costume is.” 

Ashton looks him up and down and it feels a little like being checked out. He preens a little under Ashton’s gaze. Ashton looks up, blushing slightly when he meets Luke’s eyes. 

“Let me guess. You’ll be a princess. Or a mermaid. Since you are Australian and all.” 

Luke shakes his head, “Close, but not quite.” 

Ashton glances over at the fairy wings Luke's been looking at. “Oh! A fairy. How charming. It fits you.” 

“Are you going to be a prince? You’d make a nice companion for Cinderella.” 

Ashton laughs, “Can’t say that princesses are my thing, really. Besides, princes are boring and stuffy. It lacks imagination and adventure.” 

Luke looks around, “Unless you wanna be a prince or a superhero, it looks like you’re out of luck shopping at this place. They’re almost out of everything since, you know, it’s the week before Halloween.” 

“I know a better costume store a bit outside of the city. Why don’t we set up a day and go shopping together? Since you seem to have a lot of opinions about my outfit, it seems fitting you should help me look,” Ashton says, holding his hand out, raising his eyebrows expectantly. There’s a pause as Luke realizes that Ashton is asking Luke for his phone. For his number. 

Luke can do little else but take out his phone, unlock it, and hand it over to Ashton. He messes around with it for a few moments, inputting his number and sending a text to himself. He hands the phone back to Luke smiling. 

“There. Now you have my number. Text me when you’re free and we’ll set something up,” Ashton says, winking at Luke as he turns on his heel. Dumbstruck, Luke looks down at his phone, laughing when he realizes that Ashton put a little wolf emoji next to his name. He’s really committed himself to this joke it seems. Luke is too on Cloud Nine to think about it any further, going home to proclaim to Michael that he’s finally met the love of his life and that they’re going on a date. 

***

Luke has been anxious waiting for his “date” with Ashton. He refuses to call it a date, doesn’t want to get his hopes up, even though Michael has been calling it one for the last week. He’s been talking to Ashton almost nonstop since getting his number. It’s been fun, sending Ashton his daily thoughts and happenings of the day. He’d sent Ashton a picture of chocolate the other day and had gotten a little frowny face emoji in response. It’s terribly endearing of Ashton and Luke thinks it’s funny that he’s so committed to some goofy werewolf joke for the season. 

They’d agreed to meet on the 30th, later in the afternoon after work, which seemed like a dumb idea to Luke, even if Ashton insists that it’s more fun going through Halloween stores to try and make a costume out of what’s leftover. Especially because Ashton insists that the store he knows outside of the city has better things. Luke has been standing outside of the subway entrance for the last fifteen minutes and he’s starting to get nervous that Ashton isn’t coming. Luke’s just about steeled himself to give up and go home when Ashton comes sprinting down the block, stopping directly in front of Luke. He bends in half, hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

“Sorry. I got a little hung up this morning and lost track of time,” Ashton says, still trying to take a deep breath. He looks disheveled and winded, curls tangled around his face and brown eyes wide as he looks up at Luke. He looks like he’s doing his best imitation of a puppy who knows they shouldn’t have wrecked something and now they’re hoping to fix it by being cute. Luke would like to pretend it won’t work on him, but who is he kidding. 

“It’s fine. I was just worried you forgot,” Luke says, trying to keep his tone light and not betray his worry.

“How could I forget a date with the cutest guy to look at costumes?” Ashton asks, an earnest expression on his face. 

Luke blushes, glancing away from Ashton. He doesn’t want to admit how much of an effect Ashton has on him. He hasn’t known Ashton long enough to be this smitten. 

“We should leave now if we want to make the train in time. Your running late messed up our time table,” Luke says. 

Ashton grins. “Who knew you were so punctual? We’d better hurry, then.” 

Ashton grabs a hold of Luke’s hand, tugging him down into the subway station. Luke allows himself to be pulled along, too focused on the grip Ashton has on his hand to pay attention to much of anything else. He’s only mildly aware of swiping his Metrocard and rushing to the right platform for the train. 

They manage to make it in time, Ashton tugging them to an open seat. They collapse onto the seats, pressed close to each other. Luke is hyper aware of how their thighs are touching; they’re pressed together from shoulder to hip. Ashton hasn’t let go of Luke’s hand, instead choosing to lace their fingers together and squeeze. Luke flushes, surprised at how affectionate Ashton is with someone who is largely a stranger. 

“So, how do you know about this place? You mentioned it was a little outside of town,” Luke asks, hoping that focusing on the conversation will take his attention away from Ashton’s grip. He’s never been this smitten over someone who’s human. He’s supposed to have this effect on people, not the other way around. 

“A friend of a friend. I found out about it one year when I was looking for a costume in college and now I just keep going back. It’s nice. They always have a good selection and it’s usually stuff I wouldn’t know about.”

Luke hums. He doesn’t have very many friends here. Despite the fact that he works at a fairly nice interior design company in the city, it’s hard for Luke to make friends. He has to always be on alert about using his magic and about being too open with non-magical people. It makes him worried and anxious some days, especially when he uses his magic at work for little things. Sometimes he uses it to change the color of a couch or curtains when he can’t find the right color. Sometimes he uses it on the room he’s designing, to bring his clients peace and happiness. He’s never malicious with his magic. Despite the stories, fairies aren’t supposed to be mean. They’re mischievous and like playing tricks, but magic shouldn’t be mean. Luke just likes using his magic when he knows it will help his clients, give them everything they want. He knows it’s why Michael opened the little café he owns, started using magic blended into the food and drinks for happiness and easing worries and whatever else he thought people might need. It’s nice, knowing that there’s some way the two of them can help people. 

Ashton clears his throat, drawing Luke’s attention back to him.  

“So Luke, what do you do? You seem awfully free during the day for someone with a job.” 

“I’m an interior designer. Usually I’m working at this time, but sometimes I get a little flexibility with my schedule,” Luke says. He doesn’t mention that he might have spelled his boss a little to let him leave early so he could meet Ashton. It’s not like Ashton needs that information. 

Ashton gives Luke a once over, smiling a bit, “I can see that. You seem very stylish and put together. You would be something snotty.” 

Luke scoffs in fake offense and smacks Ashton on the shoulder, “Well, what do you do, Mr. Big Shot, that lets you leave in the middle of a work day if you’re going to tease me?” 

“I’m a lawyer. Nothing too fancy, I do copyright law and such, but it’s nice.” 

“Well, maybe you’re the fancy one with your high rise job,” Luke says. Ashton frowns a little bit before he must realize Luke is teasing. He huffs, rolling his eyes. 

They chat for a bit on the rest of the drive, talking about growing up back home and what brought them here (school it seems is the answer), and what it is they do at their jobs.  Luke’s so caught in the conversation, he almost forgets why they’re even on this trip until Ashton perks up. 

“Our stop is next.” 

“What?” Luke asks, letting Ashton pull him up to stand and tug him towards the door. Luke doesn’t know how Ashton even heard any kind of announcement from where he was sitting.

Ashton ignores him, instead tugging him towards the door. Luke grabs onto one of the poles as the train slows, still managing to slide a little bit and bump into Ashton. They’re still holding hands.

The train comes to a stop and Ashton tugs Luke out and down the street, pulling them in the direction of where the shop must be. It’s an older looking building, with a sign out front advertising the Halloween store inside. It feels lived in, a product of love and familiarity around it. It puts Luke at ease a bit, convinced there won’t be creepy statues jumping out at him here.

There’s a bell over the door that dings when they enter. Ashton clears his throat before yelling, “Kaykay!”

There’s a thump from somewhere in the back of the store and then Luke hears an excited, “Ashton?”

The girl that pops out from the back curtains is short with bright blue hair. Her face breaks into a wide grin as she sprints across the store, launching herself at Ashton to wrap her arms around him in a hug. Luke doesn’t realize until Ashton tugs his hand away to hug the girl, laughing, that he’s been holding his hand the whole time. He blushes, glancing away.

“What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in ages,” Kaykay says when she detangles herself from Ashton. 

Ashton grins, “I’m taking a friend costume shopping and thought of your store. Figured I had to show him a proper Halloween store.”

They both turn their attention to Luke. Luke blushes under the gaze of this girl, clearly an old friend of Ashton’s. She narrows her eyes a bit, looking Luke up and down. He must pass whatever test she has though, because her face breaks into a grin and she sticks her hand out. 

“Kaykay. I own this lovely shop. You seem much too nice for our Ashton. How on Earth did you meet him?” 

“Luke. He harassed me in a store about Halloween decorations and now I can’t seem to get rid of him,” Luke says, shaking her hand. She laughs loudly, snorting slightly at the end. Ashton pouts, but there’s a look in his eyes that’s almost relief. Luke tries not to read too much into it, that Ashton’s happy that Luke and one of his friends are getting along. 

“Well, if you want good costumes this is the place. I have it all. Ashton can show you around. Holler if you need anything,” She says, bumping Ashton’s shoulder with a grin as she heads towards the back again. 

“How do you know her? Doesn’t seem like the kind of place for a lawyer to casually be at.” 

“Her girlfriend is my tattoo artist,” Ashton says, heading in the direction of what looks like the magical creature section. Luke perks up, following him. Maybe if he plays it right, he can see Ashton’s tattoos. 

Ashton rugs out a pair of purple fairy wings and shows them to Luke. They’re ornate, large and iridescent in the light. Luke’s surprised by how close to accurate they are, running his fingers along the edge of them. They remind him of his own wings as they catch the light, casting a rainbow into the ground. 

“What about these?” 

“They’re lovely, but I already have my costume. Besides, we’re looking for something for you,” Luke points out, letting go of the wings and setting off further into the aisle. He stops in front of the werewolf costumes, face to face with another snarling mask. He startles, taking a step back and bumping into Ashton. 

“What about this? You keep making all those jokes about werewolves.” 

“You can’t be serious, Luke? I mean, look at it. It’s not even close to accurate. Werewolves are part wolves, they wouldn’t stand on two legs. And besides, they wouldn’t have red eyes either.” 

“You sure know a lot about werewolves for someone who claims to dislike the way they’re portrayed.” 

“I, uh, read a lot,” Ashton says, blushing a bit when Luke looks at him, raising an eyebrow. It’s adorable seeing him so passionate about something. Luke leans over, brushing a strand of loose hair behind Ashton’s ear. Luke feels so warm suddenly, this close to him, casual touches and all. He can’t possibly feel like he’s known Ashton so long, so personally, but he does. It feels like Ashton keeps sharing intimate parts of himself with Luke and Luke’s never been so taken by a human before. It’s going to break Luke’s heart if Ashton figures out that Luke is a fairy and leaves him. It’s happened before, but Luke doesn’t know if he could survive this one. 

A crash from the back of the store startles them both. Luke pulls his hand away from Ashton’s ear, blushing as he turns back to the costumes. He picks up a pair of wolf ears and sticks them on top of Ashton’s head.

“Here, you can wear these instead. Now you’re a cute werewolf,” Luke says, giggling. Ashton smiles, touching the tips of the ears. Luke pulls a wolf tail off the rack too, holding it out to Ashton. He laughs, sharp and quick, grinning from ear to ear.

“You’re really going to lean into the wolf thing, huh?”

“Well, you made all those werewolf comments. What else could you possibly be?” Luke says. He misses the way Ashton tenses slightly, relaxing when he must realize Luke’s teasing him.

“You need to get something too,” Ashton points out. He turns back towards where they came from, heading off in that direction again. Luke follows after him, stopping when Ashton picks up an intricate floral headpiece and puts it onto Luke’s head.

“If you’re going to be a fairy, you need a headpiece. It’s tradition,” Ashton says firmly. Luke doesn’t usually wear any type of floral headpiece because it feels too on the nose, but the earnest adoration on Ashton’s face as he looks at Luke might sway him. Luke nods and Ashton grins, taking the crown off his head and continuing through the store.

They walk around for a little bit, commenting on the different costumes and decorations until it’s late enough that they both realize they have to head back home. They take their purchases up the register, where Kaykay’s standing, staring at the two of them. She laughs, pointing at the wolf ears Ashton’s still wearing, clearly forgotten about. Ashton blushes, pulling them off and putting them on the counter for her to ring up and bag.

They head back to the subway and ride it back into the City. Luke’s exhausted suddenly, tired from the day and knowing that he’ll have to spend part of tomorrow setting up for the party. 

“Have fun at your Halloween party. You’ll have to send me a picture of your outfit once you get all dressed up,” Ashton says when they finally leave the subway, getting ready to part ways.

“You’ll have to show me how the wolf ears look with your whole outfit. Very Teen Wolf of you,” Luke says. Ashton laughs and leans over, placing a kiss on Luke’s cheek before turning to walk away, waving. Luke is stunned, rooted to the spot when he realizes that Ashton just kissed him. Ashton gets halfway down the block before he stops, turning back to look at Luke, red in the face. Luke waves back, hoping his face doesn’t betray how startled he feels. Ashton waves back, turning around and heading off in his direction. Luke turns around, following suit.

He makes it all the way home, still stunned by the turn of events.

“What’s gotten into you?” Michael asks, when Luke enters the apartment.

“I think I have a crush on a human.”

Michael groans, shaking his head, “You’re a disaster fairy, you know that right?”

Luke changes Michael’s hair pink in retaliation.

***

The party’s in full swing by nine. Luke is overwhelmed,  his apartment crammed with people and loud with music. He’s been playing host for the last few hours, but it’s simply too much for him to handle; too much energy to talk to all the people here and smile and laugh, when most of them are Michael’s friends, or people he’s met at the bakery and friends of friends and Luke has had to use too much of his charm to keep up appearances. He’d lost Michael as soon as Calum showed up to help set up, Michael happy to latch himself onto his boyfriend, covering him in glitter and laughing, giddy and excited. Calum is dressed as some kind of Devil, red horns and all, grinning wildly when he’d seen Michael’s look. 

Michael and Luke tend to take advantage of the fairy wings, working them into every Halloween costume they do. Luke tends to go classy with his look, soft fabrics and light colors, trying to look enchanting and ethereal. Michael tends to go the way of a Victoria’s Secret model, short skirts and bright colors. Tonight’s no different. Luke can see the tips of Michael’s bright green wings in the kitchen, where he’s laughing next to Calum, in his black lacy bra and matching lacy boy shorts. This year, he’s wearing a long floral printed skirt, cut high in the front to expose the lace panties, and a matching floral see-through top on, covered in small fake flowers in bright blues. He’s surrounded by a cloud of glitter, sparkling in the light and charming everyone who’s talking to him. Although, some of that could be the fact that his nipples are practically visible in the bra and that Calum has one hand wrapped around his waist, squeezing Michael’s hip whenever someone laughs too loud or gets too close to Michael. Michael doesn’t seem to mind, though, leaning into Calum whenever he does it, turning to kiss him on the cheek.

Luke is hiding in the corner of the living room, drinking whatever cider it is they have and wondering if he can hide from the crowd in his room without being rude, when he hears a whistle to his right. 

“If I’d known you would be here, I’d have brought some flowers to go with your crown,” a familiar voice next to him says. Luke perks up when he realizes who it is. 

“Ashton! What are you doing here?” Luke turns, laughing when he sees Ashton. He’s wearing the wolf ears and tail they’d bought together, a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans. Luke can see that Ashton has a set of moon tattoos on his forearm. He looks like a perfectly ordinary “werewolf,” smiling shyly at Luke as he gets closer. 

“Would you believe me if I said Calum’s my best friend? He kept saying he was going to a party his boyfriend was hosting and asked me to come along, said Michael wouldn’t mind. I have to say, the decorations I picked out look nice. And I appreciate the candy,” Ashton says, grinning as he shakes the packet of sour gummies. Luke blushes, laughing and glancing away. It’s charming, how committed Ashton is to the joke of the whole thing, standing in Luke’s living room, framed by the low lights as Monster Mash plays in the background. He can’t believe a human is having this effect on him; it's ridiculous. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying the party.” 

“Enjoying it much more now that I’ve seen you. I’m glad to see you’re wearing the crown. When you said you were dressing as a fairy, I wasn’t expecting this. They look so real,” Ashton says in awe, reaching out to ghost his fingers lightly over Luke’s wings. They’re beautiful, iridescent pink and purple, gold glitter shedding from them whenever Luke moves slightly. Luke’s dropped his glamour for the night, letting his ears and noses become pointer, eyes their usual liquid gold color, framed in gold eyeshadow and pink lipstick. Luke’s even wearing the flower crown, soft pink and yellow blending into his blonde curls. He thinks his wings look nice with the gauzy green tulle dress he’s wearing, covered in little fabric flowers. He’s wearing a forest green lace bodysuit underneath it, easily visible through the tulle, and nude high heels. Luke knows he looks good, miles of long legs shimmering in the light, every bit the part of ethereal fairy the storybooks say he is. Ashton looks captivated by Luke, unable to look away from his wings. It bothers Luke a little, worried that Ashton only likes him because of how pretty he looks, not because of who he is.

“They should. I paid good money for this,” Luke says, his usual answer whenever someone asks about the wings. “I should have known you’d go as a werewolf, though. Are the tattoos special just for it?”

Luke reaches out, brushing a thumb over Ashton’s forearm. Ashton shudders a little under Luke’s touch, moving his arm to give him a better view of the little red and black moons. They look like a series of moon phase tattoos. How appropriate.

“You’re very committed to your werewolf joke.”

“Yeah, something like that. I saw them in a painting once and had to get them. I’ve always liked the moon,” Ashton says, voice low, watching as Luke continues to rub his thumb over them. They’re breathing in sync, Luke realizes, connected by Luke's touch on Ashton’s skin, Ashton’s fingertips still pressed lightly to Luke’s wings. Luke wants to make a joke, turn on the charm and flirt with Ashton like he usually does with people, but he can’t find the words. He’s so captivated by Ashton and his presence, trapped in his pull. 

There’s a loud whoop from the kitchen area, startling them both. Luke pulls his hand back, gripping onto his bottle tighter as Ashton coughs slightly, tugging on his sleeve. 

“Do you want to, um, I can give you a tour?” Luke says, voice raising in question as he glances at Ashton. Ashton perks up at that, glancing at Luke.

“Sure. I’d love to see your little home.”

Luke nods, taking the last pull from his bottle, noticing that Ashton’s staring at his throat when he tips his head back. Luke puts the bottle on the table next to them, turning to Ashton and putting on his best flirty smile. 

Luke takes Ashton’s hand, interlocking their fingers and tugging him into the back of the apartment.

 “You’ve seen the kitchen and the living room already. Michael’s room is back here and so is the bathroom and my room,” Luke says. He stops in front of the bathroom door, waving his hand a little to the inside. Ashton steps in, whistling when he notices the floral shower curtain and all the other little flower accents in the room. 

“You guys really like flowers don’t you?” 

“Well, we have to have some nature in the middle of the big city,” Luke says, stepping in after Ashton. Luke closes the door gently behind him, muffling some of the noise from the party. Ashton turns to Luke, smiling. 

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing. It’s nice, sweet of you. Matches your outfit,” He says. He takes a step towards Luke, raising his hand a little as if he’s going to touch the flowers on Luke’s dress. He glances up at Luke, tilting his head in question. Luke nods quickly. 

Ashton grins, running his fingers along one of the flowers on Luke’s dress. He uses his other hand to reach up and cup Luke’s cheek in his hand, humming slightly. 

“Your ears are very impressive. I’m sure Kaykay would love to know where you found them. Your eyes are so golden.” 

“I use really good contacts,” Luke mumbles, turning into Ashton’s palm. He presses a soft kiss to the palm, hoping it will signal to Ashton that he wants to be kissed. Ashton seems to understand, tugging Luke down a little and pressing a soft kiss to Luke’s lips. 

Luke deepens the kiss, tilting his head and nipping lightly on Ashton’s lips. Ashton growls, turning them so Luke is pressed against the countertop. Ashton pulls away, nipping along Luke’s jawline and neck. Luke squirms a little, giddy and excited about the turn of events. Ashton runs his hands along the back of Luke’s thighs. Luke sighs at the touch on his legs, warm through the dress fabric, hypersensitive and hyper aware of what’s happening. 

Ashton nudges Luke slightly, obviously trying to get him to sit on the counter. Luke obliges, pushing himself up onto the edge and tugging Ashton in between his spread thighs. Ashton continues to kiss along his neck and collarbone, running his fingers along Luke’s legs, pressing under the skirt and onto his skin. Luke wraps both arms around Ashton’s shoulders, playing slightly with the curls at the base of his neck. Ashton leans up, pulling Luke back into a soft, open mouth kiss, full of warmth and the sour sweet taste of candy. 

Ashton pulls back, glancing up at Luke. He’s shimmering with glitter from Luke’s touch. His face is full of such wonder and adoration and for a moment Luke is afraid. Afraid that Ashton doesn’t like him at all, that Luke’s just used his magic to have his way and Ashton is going to leave him. 

“You’re so beautiful. I’m going to be covered in glitter forever.” 

“Well, at least you’ll have something to remember me by,” Luke teases, trying to keep the mood light. Ashton hums, running his fingers along the edge of the body suit, squeezing at Luke’s thighs. 

“As much as I love kissing you, I do tend to prefer to take the people I fancy out on dates first.” 

“Oh?”

“Would you maybe want to get breakfast? Brunch? Something food related in the daylight. A proper date. Tomorrow?” 

Luke’s heartbeat speeds up. Ashton looks so earnest and open, glancing up at Luke bashfully. It’s so charming and endearing to see Ashton like this. 

“Of course I would,” Luke whispers, running his fingers through Ashton’s hair. Ashton grins, nuzzling into Luke’s neck as Luke laughs. 

“Wonderful. Amazing. We should get back to the party before anyone misses us.” 

Luke nods, let’s Ashton help him down off the countertop and straighten himself out. He presses a kiss to Luke’s bare shoulder, grinning when he catches Luke’s eye in the mirror. 

They venture back into the party, going off to find Michael and Calum. Luke realizes halfway through talking to them that Ashton is holding his hand, that he hasn’t let go since the bathroom. He catches Michael’s eye, who’s grinning and wiggling his eyebrows at him. Luke huffs, glancing away from him and back to Ashton. It feels right, standing here in his kitchen, close to Ashton. It feels like he was always meant to be here. He doesn’t even mind when he has to help clean up later with Michael, after everyone has left and it’s just the two of them. 

Luke changes and gets into bed, checking his phone before going to sleep, seeing that there’s a text from Ashton. It’s a little heart, message reading Good night sweet fairy. Luke blushes, but his heart soars at the idea of a boyfriend, of Ashton as his boyfriend. He knows he’ll have to explain himself tomorrow but for now, he can live in this little fantasy world where everything is perfect and no one will get their heart broken with any kind of revelation. 

***

Luke is nervous. Luke has never been nervous for a date before. He’s gone out with plenty of people, human and magical alike, and he’s never been nervous. Yet here he is, standing outside of the little coffee shop he and Ashton agreed to meet at, biting his lip and twisting his ring around his finger. He’s bitten his lip raw it seems, too anxious and worked up about seeing Ashton to sit still. He’s been thinking about this since last night, spent half the night staring up at the ceiling worrying about seeing Ashton. What if Ashton only likes him because Luke accidentally used his magic? What if Ashton only likes this magical version of Luke, and not Luke, who’s regular and boring and ordinary? 

Luke doesn’t know if he can take it if Ashton doesn’t like him the same way. Luke’s been known to accidentally enchant people before, put them under a fairy spell, creating love where there is none. It’ll break his heart if the spark he’s felt with Ashton is manufactured and fake. He likes Ashton so much, all teasing and bright laughs, dorky jokes and adoring eyes. 

“What’s got you so focused?” Ashton’s voice startles Luke, pulling his attention to the man who’s appeared out of nowhere. Ashton looks good, with his leather jacket and windswept hair. He looks worried as he stares at Luke. 

“Nothing. Just nervous, that’s all.” 

Ashton reaches forward, grabbing Luke’s hand. “About what?” 

Luke looks down at their interlocked fingers, blushing when Ashton rubs his thumb along the back of Luke’s hand. “Our date.” 

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. I’ve already seen your apartment and I’ve met your annoying roommate. You’ve met my annoying best friend and you laugh at my bad jokes. We’ve already passed all the awkward steps of dating.” 

“Dating?” Luke squeaks out. If he’d known they were dating, he would have dressed nicer. 

Ashton grins. “As long as you don’t order chocolate.”  

He tugs a stunned Luke into the coffee shop, going up to the counter to order them coffee and sandwiches to eat. He takes the number from the girl at the register and guides them towards an empty table. 

“So, if we’re going to date, I think there’s something I need to tell you,” Luke says. Better to get it over with now before either of them gets in too deep. 

Ashton’s face falls, “You know?” 

“Know what?” 

“About me?”

Luke pauses, tilting his head in confusion, “What about you?” 

“That I’m, you know…” 

“A big fan of dogs? You like fairy tales? You make bad jokes?” Luke asks. He’s terribly confused as to what Ashton could be talking about. Ashton’s a human, isn’t he? 

Ashton groans. He leans back in the chair, tilting his head up. “Oh my god I thought Cal would have told you both.” 

“Told us what? Ashton, what was Calum supposed to tell us?” 

“That we’re werewolves,” Ashton hisses out, leaning in close to Luke. Luke’s eyes go wide. He’s completely shocked. Although, maybe all the jokes now about werewolves make more sense. God, the moon tattoos are a dead give away, aren’t they now?

“What?”

“I thought you knew! Not before at the stores, obviously, but at the party. When I realized Calum was dating your friend. I thought Calum had told you both already.” 

“But the decorations! The costume! Your tattoos! Wait, are you allergic to chocolate,” Luke says. The panic is rising in his throat, shock clouding his judgement, glee tinting the edges of his mood. Ashton can’t possibly be a werewolf, Luke can’t possibly be that lucky. That Ashton’s like him. 

“I mean, most humans don’t get the jokes. But I thought you would have known about it. Except you didn’t say anything so I thought you were trying to be secretive about it. And no, I’m not allergic. It's just a funny little joke Calum and I have. And I prefer sour gummies, anyway,” Ashton says. His voice is rising in pitch, worry clear in his face. 

Luke is giddy though, full of glee. This means that Ashton is magical too! He understands Luke. Luke doesn’t have to hide! Luke reaches across the table, grabbing Ashton’s hand. “I should tell you that Michael and I are fairies.” 

It’s Ashton’s turn to look shocked and confused. “A what? Like, with the wings and shit? Like Tinkerbell?” 

Luke gasps in mock offense, smacking Ashton, “Not like Tinkerbell. Do I look small to you?” 

“Bratty enough,” Ashton says, grinning. 

“Well I’m not the werewolf with moon tattoos.” 

“Hey, you’re the fairy who wore his wings as a costume. Wait..that look wasn’t a costume, you actually look like that?” 

“Of course I do! Real wings and everything. What do you take me for?” 

“My whole bed is covered in glitter just from touching you. God I’m going to be covered in glitter forever, aren’t I?” 

“Only if you play rough during your time of the month,” Luke teases. 

“Excuse me Tinkerbell, it’s very rude to ask a werewolf about that. That’s a private and special thing.” 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” 

Ashton grins, nudging his foot against Luke’s, “Nah, I’m just messing with you. You deserve it after all the glitter I found in my hair.” 

“Just for that, I’m going to make sure you’ll be finding glitter all over your body forever.” 

“Forever? Only if you promise to wear more of that lingerie.” 

Luke huffs, rolling his eyes. He lets Ashton reach over and thread their fingers together again, kissing the back of Luke’s hand. Luke blushes. 

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” Luke says. Ashton glances over at him. 

“I mean, I am a werewolf.” 

“And me being a fairy doesn’t bother you?” 

“Should it?”

“It’s just, you know, the magic thing.” 

“Are you worried you’re enchanting me? The only thing you’ve done is enchant me with how pretty you are. Werewolves are mostly immune to that kind of thing, anyway.”

Luke relaxes a little, slumping back into the chair. Ashton grins, leaning over the table to place a quick peck to Luke’s lips.

“What was that for?”

“You’re just the cutest. I’m very lucky to have such a cute boyfriend. Make all the other werewolves jealous.”

“Boyfriend?”

Ashton blushes, “I mean, if you want to. I’d like to date. Take you out places, cover my bed in glitter, other things.” Ashton wiggles his eyebrows.

Luke rolls his eyes. “Werewolves are massive dorks.”

“Only for you, Sugar Plum Fairy. Only for you,” Ashton says, laughing in the face of Luke’s mock horror and outrage. The conversation ends as their server brings them their drinks and food. They go about eating their meal, Ashton just as messy as Luke thought a werewolf would be.

“You’re staring,” Ashton says, glancing up at Luke.

“Just watching you eat, looking to see if I can see your fangs,” Luke teases. Ashton rolls his eyes, sticking his tongue out.

Luke is content, though, watching Ashton throughout the meal as he alternates between trying to eat politely and then giving up and talking with his mouth full. It’s endearing, Luke thinks, getting to date a werewolf. He’s charming and funny and Luke can’t believe that a halloween decoration got him a boyfriend. He absolutely refuses to tell Michael about this part of the story.

#5 seconds of summer #5soshalloweenevent2020 #lashton #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #my writing #it wouldnt be me if there wasnt magic involved now would there

[flirting-with-psychology]

1. I own a ferret. 2. My best friend is my boyfriend 3. My best friend is a girl 4. I use the word super way too much 5. I am a boy 6. I like My Chemical Romance 7. I own more than 100 CDs 8. I like discussing politics 9. I collect state quarters 10. The Legend of Zelda is my favorite video game. 11. I have Cingular 12. I love MAC makeup 13. I smoke too much 14. I own more than 5 bandanas 15. My favorite movie is Kill Bill 16. I watched Lamb Chop when I was young 17. I have my ears gauged 18. I can do HTML without guidance 19. I watch Spongebob Squarepants regularly. 20. I go to the movies at least once a week 21. I play guitar or bass 22. I love Elvis 23. I’ve had a mo/bi/trihawk before 24. I have met my favorite band 25. I like to hardcore dance 26. Something’s outside my window 27. I believe in ghosts 28. I do drugs regularly 29. I am straightedge 30. My favorite feature about myself is my lips 31. I have never consumed alcohol 32. I want a tattoo. 33. My favorite actor is Will Ferrell. 34. I have seen Conan O'Brien live. 35. I hate MTV 36. I used to watch Cheaters every week 37. I have my own vaccuum 38. Frank Sinatra is awesome 39. I sleep with a stuffed animal 40. I am scared of werewolves 41. I watch hockey regularly 42. I am originally from New York 43. I own an iPod 44. Some people aren’t funny. 45. I hate school. 46. My favorite vegetable is lettuce. 47. Tickle fights are fun. 48. I am currently unemployed. 49. I have my license 50. I hate spelling mistakes 51. I love Spanish class 52. I live in a big city 53. I have been to the Grand Canyon 54. I listen to music to fall asleep 55. I watch TV to fall asleep 56. I only get a few hours of sleep each night 57. I’m relatively innocent. 58. I am a size 3 or smaller 59. I’m bored. 60. Purple is my favorite color. 61. I hate flossing 62. I have a car. 63. I believe in God 64. I’m in love. 65. I used to love Unwritten Law. 66. Reno 911 is my favorite show. 67. There is a mini stapler on my computer desk. 68. Cuddling’s my favorite. 69. For sure. 70. I have a flip phone 71. I love my handwriting 72. I own a Louis Vuitton handbag 73. I want to be an astronaut. 74. I love the song Dragostea Din Tei 75. 50 Cent is not talented 76. I like scanners better than digital cameras. 77. I own at least one Punk-O-Rama CD 78. My room is sound proof. 79. I’m 5'5 or less 80. Lying pisses me off 81. I backstab people. 82. I have been in a fist fight. 83. I have PaintShop Pro. 84. It’s almost midnight 85. My nightlight is cracked 86. I only listen to Dashboard Confessional when I’m sad 87. And I feel like a pansy when I do so 88. I hate metal 89. I’m in a band. 90. Napoleon Dynamite is annoying now. 91. I love hickeys 92. I want to lose weight 93. My favorite channel is the Food Network. 94. I don’t have a CD burner. 95. Pixar is stupid except for the Incredibles 96. I own an apartment/house 97. I am engaged. 98. My computer’s a Gateway. 99. I hate driving. 100. I like watching boys sleep. =========================== 01. I miss someone right now 02. I don’t watch much TV these days 03. I love olives 04. I love sleeping 05. I own lots of books 06. I wear glasses or contact lenses 07. I love to play video games 08. I’ve tried marijuana 09. I’ve watched porn movies 10. I have been in a threesome 11. I have been the psycho-ex in a past relationship 12. I believe honesty is usually the best policy 13. I have acne free skin usually 14. I like and respect Al Sharpton 15. I curse frequently 16. I have changed a lot mentally over the last year 17. I have a hobby 18. I’ve been told I can suck the chromes off a trailer hitch. 19. I carry my knife/razor everywhere with me 20. I’m smart 21. I’ve never broken someone’s bones 22. I have a secret that I am ashamed to reveal 23. I hate the rain 24. I’m paranoid at times 25. I would get plastic surgery if it were 100% safe, free of cost, and scars. 26. I need money right now! 27. I love Sushi 28. I talk really, really fast sometimes 29. I have fresh breath in the morning 30. I have semi-long hair 31. I have lost money in Las Vegas 32. I have at least one brother and/or one sister 33. I was born in a country outside of the U.S. 34. I shave my legs 35. I have a twin 36. I have worn fake hair/fingernails/eyelashes in the past 37. I couldn’t survive without Caller I.D. 38. I like the way that I look sometimes 39. I have lied to a good friend in the last 6 months 40. I know how to do cornrows 41. I am usually pessimistic 42. I have a lot of mood swings 43. I think prostitution should be legalized 44. I think Britney Spears is hot 45. I have cheated on a significant other in the past 46. I have a hidden talent 47. I’m always hyper no matter how much sugar I have. 48. I think that I’m popular 49. I am currently single 50. I have kissed someone of the same sex 51. I enjoy talking on the phone 52. I practically live in sweatpants or PJ pants 53. I love to shop. 54. I would rather shop than eat 55. I would classify myself as ghetto. 56. I’m bourgie and have worn a sweater tied around my shoulders 57. I’m obsessed with my Livejournal 58. I don’t hate anyone. 59. I��m a pretty good dancer 60. I don’t think Mike Tyson raped Desiree Washington 61. I’m completely embarrassed to be seen with my mother 62. I have a cell phone 63. I believe in God/ a higher being. 64. I watch MTV/Vh1 on a daily basis 65. I have passed out drunk in the past 6 months 66. I love drama. 67. I have never been in a real romantic relationship before 68. I’ve rejected someone before 69. I currently have a crush on someone 70. I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life 71. I want to have children in the future 72. I have changed a diaper before 73. I’ve called the cops on a friend before 74. I bite my nails 75. I am a member of the Tom Green fan club 76. I’m not allergic to anything 77. I have a lot to learn 78. I have dated someone at least 10 years older or younger 79. I plan on seeing Ice Cube’s newest “Friday” movie 80. I am sometimes shy around the opposite sex 81. I’m online 24/7, even as an away message 82. I have at least 5 away messages saved 83. I have tried alcohol or drugs before 84. I have made a move on a friend’s significant other in the past 85. I own the “South Park” movie 86. I have avoided assignments at work/school to be on Xanga or Livejournal 87. When I was a kid I played “the birds and the bees” with a neighbor or chum 88. I enjoy some country music 90. I think that Pizza Hut has the best pizza 91. I watch soap operas whenever I can 92. I’m obsessive, anal retentive, and often a perfectionist 93. I have used my sexuality to advance my career 94. I love Michael Jackson, scandals and all 95. I know all the words to Slick Rick’s “Children’s Story” 96. Halloween is awesome because you get free candy 97. I watch Spongebob Squarepants and I like it 98. I have dated a close friend’s ex 99. I’m happy as of this moment 100. I was born in the 80s but I am truly a child of the 90s  101. I have slapped john dasaro and chris burke in the face..on the same night 102. I haven’t showered in two days… and I like it. 103. i own every f***er here 104. I procrastinate all the time 105. I’m a nerd 106. I LOVE the movie The Wedding Singer. 107. i hate corn. 108. i’ve attended the rocky horror picture show 109. i’ve never seen Bambi the movie 110. Thinking about the future terrifies me 111. Without music there would be no point in living. 112. If I could change one thing about myself I would 113. If someone of the same sex liked me, I would date them. 114. I went to the mall today for 5 hours ================================ Would do Have Done

001. Bought everyone in the pub a drink 002. Swam with wild dolphins 003. Climbed a mountain *004. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive 005. Been inside the Great Pyramid 006. Held a tarantula. *007. Taken a candlelit bath with someone 008. Said ‘I love you’ and meant it. 009. Hugged a tree *010. Done a striptease 011. Bungee jumped *012. Visited Paris 013. Watched a lightning storm at sea *014. Stayed up all night long, and watch the sun rise several times *015. Seen the Northern Lights 016. Gone to a huge sports game 017. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa *018. Grown and eaten your own vegetables *019. Touched an iceberg *020. Slept under the stars 021. Changed a baby’s diaper 022. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon *023. Watched a meteor shower *024. Gotten drunk on champagne *025. Given more than you can afford to charity 026. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope 027. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment 028. Had a food fight 029. Bet on a winning horse 030. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill 031. Asked out a stranger 032. Had a snowball fight 033. Photocopied your bottom on the office photocopier 034. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can 035. Held a lamb 036. Organized and planned a surprise party for a loved one *037. Taken a midnight skinny dip 038. Taken an ice cold bath 039. Had a meaningful conversation with a beggar 040. Seen a total eclipse 041. Ridden a roller coaster 042. Hit a home run 043. Fit three weeks miraculously into three days 044. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking *045. Adopted an accent for an entire day 046. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors 047. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment *048. Had two hard drives for your computer *049. Visited all 50 states 050. Loved your job for all accounts *051. Taken care of someone who was really sick *052. Had enough money to be truly satisfied 053. Had amazing friends 054. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country *055. Watched wild whales 056. Stolen a sign 057. Backpacked in Europe *058. Taken a road-trip 059. Rock climbing 060. Lied to foreign government’s official in that country to avoid notice *061. Midnight walk on the beach 062. Sky diving *063. Visited Ireland 064. Been heartbroken longer then you were actually in love 065. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them *066. Visited Japan 067. Bench pressed your own weight 068. Milked a cow 069. Alphabetized your records 070. Pretended to be a superhero 071. Sung karaoke 072. Lounged around in bed all day 073. Protested something you feel strongly against 074. Scuba diving *075. Got it on to “Let’s Get It On” by Marvin Gaye 076. Kissed in the rain 077. Played in the mud 078. Played in the rain *079. Gone to a drive-in theater 080. Done something you should regret, but don’t regret *081. Visited the Great Wall of China 082. Discovered that someone who’s not supposed to have known about your blog has discovered your blog 083. Dropped Windows in favor of something better 084. Started a business 085. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken 086. Toured ancient sites 087. Taken a martial arts class 088. Swordfought for the honor of a woman 089. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight *090. Gotten married 091. Been in a movie 092. Crashed a party 093. Loved someone you shouldn’t have *094. Kissed someone so passionately it made them dizzy 095. Gotten divorced 096. Started an office war 097. Gone without food for 5 days 098. Made cookies from scratch 099. Won first prize in a costume contest 100. Ridden a gondola in Venice 101. Gotten a tattoo 102. Found that the texture of some materials can turn you on 103. Rafted the Snake River 104. Been on television news programs as an “expert" 105. Got flowers for no reason 106. Made out in a public place 107. Got so drunk you don’t remember anything 108. Been addicted to some form of illegal drug 109. Performed on stage 110. Been to Las Vegas 111. Recorded music 112. Eaten shark *113. Drank an entire 6 pack by yourself *114. Gone to Thailand 115. Seen Siouxsie *116. Bought a house 117. Been in a combat zone 118. Buried one/both of your parents 119. Shaved all of your hair off *120. Been on a cruise ship 121. Spoken more than one language fluently 122. Gotten into a fight while attempting to defend someone 123. Bounced a check 124. Performed in theatre 125. Read - and understood - your credit report *126. Raised children 127. Recently bought and played with a favorite childhood toy *128. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour *129. Created and named your own constellation of stars 130. Taken a bicycle tour in a foreign country 131. Found out something significant that your ancestors did 132. Called or written your Congress person 133. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over 135. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge 136. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking 137. Had an abortion 138. Had plastic surgery 139. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived 140. Wrote articles for a large publication 141. Lost over 100 pounds 142. Held someone while they were having a flashback 143. Piloted an airplane 144. Petted a stingray 145. Broken someone’s heart 146. Helped an animal give birth 147. Been fired or laid off from a job 148. Won money on a TV game show 149. Broken a bone 150. Killed a human being *151. Gone on an African photo safari 152. Ridden a motorcycle 153. Driven any land vehicle at a speed of greater than 100mph 154. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced 155. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol 156. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild 157. Ridden a horse 158. Had major surgery 159. Ridden on a passenger train 160. Had a snake as a pet 161. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon 162. Slept through an entire flight: takeoff, flight, and landing 163. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours 164. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states *165. Visited all 7 continents 166. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days 167. Eaten kangaroo meat 168. Fallen in love at an ancient Mayan burial ground 169. Been a sperm or egg donor 170. Eaten sushi 171. Had your picture in the newspaper 172. Had 2 (or more) healthy romantic relationships for over a year in your lifetime *173. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about 174. Gotten someone fired for their actions 175. Gone back to school 176. Parasailed 177. Changed your name 178. Petted a cockroach 179. Eaten fried green tomatoes 180. Read The Iliad 181. Selected one "important” author who you missed in school, and read 182. Dined in a restaurant and stolen silverware, plates, cups because your apartment needed them 183. …and gotten 86'ed from the restaurant because you did it so many times, they figured out it was you 184. Taught yourself an art from scratch 185. Killed and prepared an animal for eating 186. Apologized to someone years after inflicting the hurt *187. Skipped all your school reunions 188. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language 189. Been elected to public office 190. Written your own computer language 191. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream 192. Had to put someone you love into hospice care 193. Built your own PC from parts 194. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you 195. Had a booth at a street fair 196: Dyed your hair blue 197: Been a DJ 198: Found out someone was going to dump you via LiveJournal 199: Written your own role playing game 200: Been arrested ====================== 1. I have self-mutilated before. 2. I still love the song Dragostea Din Tei 3. I used to like New Kids on the Block 4. The 80s was funny. 5. I have realtones enabled on my cellular phone. 6. Public bathrooms scare me 7. I have keys on my belt 8. I’m not wearing a belt 9. I hate writing 10. I hate reading 1. I love compilation CDs 12. My favorite teachers have all been guys 13. I think Bad Religion’s only been around for ten or so years 14. I don’t know who Bad Religion is. 15. I don’t wear my hood unless it’s raining 16. I enjoy smaller clubs rather than big ones 17. I’ve put a song on repeat for more than 8 hours 18. I have sound on my computer  19. Someone wants my hiney. 20. My mom loves Elvis 21. I have my own computer 22. I live on the east coast 23. My favorite animal is a kangaroo 24. I’m on vacation 25. I don’t own a pair of ripped jeans 26. I am very insecure somewhat 27. I love to dance 28. I curse way too much. 29. I choose the pansy way and star out my curse words (f*ck) 30. I feel dumb because I was just called a pansy 31. I have a flatscreen computer 32. I collect something. 33. I’m married 34. I won’t date someone who’s smaller than me smaller, as in also shorter? 35. Brass knuckles are the shit. 36. I own a hand puppet 37. I write with blue pens 38. I wear eye makeup almost every day 39. I wish I lived somewhere other than here 40. I don’t own a band shirt. Not yet anyway.. 41. I love techno. 42. I have my nipples pierced 43. I’m shitty at wrapping presents 44. I know someone in the KKK 45. I’m racist/anti-semitist. 46. I don’t know what those mean. 47. I love life most of the time 48. I have posters all over my room 49. I’ve never been a camera whore with someone.. And I want to. 50. I’m halfway done 51. I wish I lived in the 80s 52. I know what the term borgie means 53. I’m interested in social hierarchy. 54. I love music videos. 55. I have a DVD player 56. I’m drunk right now 57. I’m listening to music 58. I have a big screen TV 59. I have an STD 60. I know the singer of the Clash’s name 61. The only IM program I have is AIM 62. I skateboard regularly 63. I live on the north side of town 64. I have been to Alaska 65. I’ve worn a cowboy hat 66. I watch late night infomercials for retarded, unnecessary things 67. I LOVE DOING THE DEATH GROWL TO MY FAVORITE METAL SONGS. 68. That last question was dumb. 69. I know what the word “peligroso” means in English 70. I speak another language fluently 71. I’ve been in a limo 72. I own a bong 73. My lungs hurt 74. I know someone who’s committed suicide 75. I’ve got a six pack and I don’t need you! 76. I know what band sung the above line 77. I like strong boys. 78. I’m sick right now 79. I know someone who’s currently enlisted in the army 80. I do not own a color phone 81. My birthday is in September 82. I hate mall cops 83. I hate most cops in general 84. I’m wearing blush 85. I live in an apartment 86. I’m still in high school. 87. I own something from Victoria’s Secret 88. I don’t know a boy that wears girls pants 89. I’ve had the same best friend since I was 8. 90. Brownies are my favorite 91. So is cake 92. I’ve heard the song “Looks Good in Leather” 93. I own some sort of propaganda, fake or real 94. I deny the Holocaust happened 95. Kisses are my favorite sign of affection 96. I need to charge my phone 97. My purse could pass for a suitcase 98. I take birth control 99. I only buy what’s fashionable

1. I love bolding 2. I know someone named Mimi 3. I hate my old best friend 4. My favorite alcoholic drink is Jack n Coke 5. I have a digital camera 6. I’m talking to at least one person online 7. I like watching college basketball 8. I have never moved. 9. I have at least one cat 10. I have at least one dog 11. I’m going to see a movie tonight maybe 12. I make my own AIM icons 13. I’m in pain 14. I watch more than five shows a day 15. I love the Cure 16. My parents like some of the same music I do 17. I have never been to the dentist 18. I listen to the radio 19. I do my own laundry 20. I’ve made at least one article of clothing 21. I have/want something on my face pierced 22. I go to at least one concert a week 23. I’ve written a story 24. I’ve dyed my hair every color of the rainbow 25. I own a Grand Theft Auto game 26. My favorite pattern is camoflauge 27. I know someone who does/did cocaine 28. I have too many game systems 29. I love scary movies 30. I hate scary movies 31. I’ve had sex more than 5 times 32. My favorite chips are Lays Original 33. I think butter is unhealthy 34. I hate the Osbournes 35. I used to have dreadlocks 36. I need to take medicine for something 37. I suffer from insomnia 38. I speak ebonics 39. I’ve gambled 40. And won 41. I have at least one gay friend 42. I like going to pet stores 43. I own a dog toy 44. And I don’t have a dog 45. I own more than ten candles 46. I’ve smoked a cigarette in the shower before 47. I’ve flunked a class 48. I listen to music every day 49. I have more than one nickname 50. I wear pajamas when I feel like it 51. I’m wearing more than one jewelry item 52. I haven’t washed my hair in a week 53. I watch the Grammy’s every year 54. Along with the Macy’s Parade 55. My favorite season is winter 56. I have seen the All American Rejects live 57. And I’ve enjoyed it. 58. Boobs are nothing special 59. I go swimming at least once a week in summer. 60. I have a pool. 61. I’ve gone skinnydipping 62. I’ve played strip poker 63. And lost 64. I want a nautical star tattoo 65. My cell phone turns off when it’s charging 66. And it pisses me off 67. I used to buy my entire wardrobe from Hot Topic 68. I’ve been to albinoblacksheep.com 69. My favorite subject is History 70. And/or math 71. I am a republican 72. I am a democrat 73. I listen to the Used occasionally 74. I have been to the Warped Tour 75. I am part Mexican 76. I am part German 77. All of my grandparents are still alive. 79. I love bowling 80. I know that there is a South Park, Colorado 81. I love Dairy Queen 82. Sometimes I think I’m crazy 83. I own a Moffatts CD 84. I own a Backstreet Boys CD 85. I want plastic surgery 86. Operation, operation, snip and tie, snip and tie 87. I know what song that line is from 88. I have killed something [bugs!] 89. I’ve never had a Nokia cell phone 90. I’m never sarcastic 91. Light eyes turn me on 92. I have never been to a foreign country 93. I don’t eat enough 94. I own illegal weaponry 95. I know someone who has overdosed on something 96. And lived to tell about it 97. I don’t own a pair of mittens 98. I love the heat 99. I’ve never had a steady boyfriend/gf 100. I want to makeout.

#survey