#AND YET. ALL I know is how to bait a hook and cast a line and what a perch is

[luminousbeings-crudematter]

So I saw your smut prompts reblog and if I may put in a request for 102 and 108 with our lord and collective boyfriend Ghost, I just know you would kill it like no one else. Bless you oh sweet sweet prompt queen 😘❤️

let it be known that when @xintothewoodswegox comes calling, this blog will always answer (ALTHOUGH THIS IS SO LATE, IM SO SORRY I HAVE NO EXCUSE) || it's not quite what you asked for, but I thought I would try something different and I hope you like it! || from the smut prompt list || 18+ only MDNI

****

You cast a golden net for him, and he falls in, just as helpless and flailing as a newborn babe...and yet.  It’s Ghost.  It’s the man you’d kill in his sleep if you could be bothered with the mess it'd make.  It’s the man you’d have killed in his sleep if you could be bothered to arrange it all.

But you’ve found something infinitely better.  He shows a moment of humanity—a flex of his stupid gloved fingers when Price had chewed you out over something—and you’re ready to take advantage.  It’s just the way things are between the two of you, you tell yourself.  This is how it works.

 ___

Ghost takes the bait, hook line and sinker.  It’s pathetic and humiliating and if he could kill you, he would, and yet.  It’s you.  He’s seething, his rage palpable around him, shimmering along his silhouette and he’s ready to kill.  More than ready to kill.  Both you and the puny, worthless rookie you’re currently fucking.

“Fuck, you’re so hot when you’re bossy,” the rookie whispers pathetically, and Ghost hears your breathy moans in response.  Fake, of course.  Ghost knows what you sound like.  He knows that when you take it, you’re quiet.  You’re so fucking quiet, your brows furrowed, head thrown back, tits bouncing as he slams you on to his cock and it always always makes you—

“— think you’d look fucking hot on top of me.”  Your voice is silky smooth and sultry in the cocky way only you can manage and yet, it’s fake. Again. Ghost knows how to make your mouth stay blessedly shut, knows how well you swallow his cock, your lack of self-preservation around him equally as mind-blowing as your lack of gag reflex, and he knows—

Ghost hears a low, constant, buzzing vibration, and fuck.  He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected you to play this dirty.  Hadn’t expected you to come on the rookie’s cock, had banked on your frustration from your own plan leaving you high and dry. But Ghost know that with that vibrator against your clit,  it would take you exactly two seconds to—

“Fuuuck,” he hears you moan, and you draw out the word like you can’t even be bothered to finish it.  Ghost hates, no, despises how the sound of your voice, how the first real sound of your pleasure makes his own hand work faster on his cock.  He hates what you’ve reduced him to—horny and angry and feeling more and more out of control and less and less like himself with every day he spends around you.  Listening to you come with his cock in his hand and his ear to the wall.  No better than the rookie you’re fucking to torture him.

When you finally come, so does Ghost, panting, groaning into the fist he’s biting down on.

His skin feels hot from his embarrassment and shame. He wants to crawl out of it, rip it off him.  He’ll just have to settle for the rage he feels at your twinkling laugh as he quickly walks away from his hiding place. 

#xintothewoodswegox #ask #request #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley #cod mw2 #ghost #work rival! ghost #lumi writes

[tvfangirladdict]

So everyone else seems to be bolstered in their Buddie hope after this episode, but am I the only one that's getting a sinking feeling instead?

On one hand, yes, the repressed catholic guilt for Eddie makes me optimistic--and was I understanding Maddie's hint about Eddie correctly or was I crazy?--but everything else read to me as ABC beginning to--maybe not solidfy Buck and Eddie as only friends, but at least pump the breaks on Buddie.

I get letting them grow and learn more about themselves in separate relationships first, but Eddie's genuine, physical attraction to Marisol? Going back to the beginning of their relationship so ABC can undo how Fox just kind of through them together like usual right before the season finale and they can actually show the development of this relationship that's existed for months now but we weren't able to see? Paralleling this with Buck and Tommy who want to get to know each other better? Buck and Eddie's shorter, more bro-style interactions vs the softer more intimate interactions we were used to seeing in Buck's kitchen? The hug and "call Tommy," was all just so quick and platonic😭.

I'm not saying they'll never go there, I'm just saying I'm not so confident that if it does happen, we'll see it confirmed in the next few years.

Anyone else know the story of Benson and Stabler on SVU? They were always partners/ best friends/ride-or-dies/more-than-friends/soulmates, but Stabler was Catholic, married and had up to 5 kids. Everyone and their mother knew those two were meant to be, but their timing just never worked out. In their first 12 years before Chris(Stabler) left the show though, they hugged like a total of 3 times, never once said "I love you" or ever crossed the line physically. Okay? You with me? And yet, there was so much chemistry and love shown between them, that they were undeniable.

Cut forward 10 years, and Stabler gets his own spinoff and is brought back into Benson's life. 22 YEARS in the making. In his first season back, his wife was killed, he told her "I love you" and this giant, unspoken thing between them was actually fucking acknowledged by their characters in the show. In one season, they advanced these twos' personal relationship more than the previous 22 years put together.

But then.... nothing happened. I mean small things here and there between the two shows, an almost kiss, them admitting they want each other. But still, three years later and they still aren't together. And now we're at 25 years, for what has to be the slowest slow burn in the history of like, everything.

All this to say, I'm really afraid that ABC and Tim Minear are only coming out swinging so hard in an effort to hook existing fans and gain their loyalty. But then, it's going to go back to doing what any other major television company does, and it's going to fall back into drawing it out as long as possible. Because yeah, the show is on season 7, but if ABC wants it to go another 7 for themselves, they can't just rush and give us what we want in the first one or two seasons, that wouldn't be a good financial strategy for them. I really don't think they'll do it that way.

ABC gave us bi Buck and they can't ever take that away, but will they trap us with that bait, and be content with making everyone halfway happy to avoid taking too many more risks so soon or ever? Yeah, I really think they're not above that.

I feel like we're already falling back into the patented responses from cast and crew that "you never know" or "anything can happen" or "nothing is set in stone", so that's not making me feel great.

Don't get me wrong, I would be so happy to admit I'm wrong if it doesn't go the way I think it will, but I don't think I can live episode-to-episode for another 7 years living off scraps of Buddie interactions and subtext😭😭 I'd rather they just go the "brother" route so I can get closure and focus on fanfiction instead. The will they/won't they and overanalyslzing every single second looking for a hint of something sexual or romantic between them will be the death of me, because at the end of the day, it'll mean whatever ABC will want it to mean😭

Most of yall probably won't even read this, but I had to get my anxiety out, lmao😅

#buddie

[auriel187]

The More Things Change. (S1 E7)

Word Count: 2440

Series Masterlist

A/N: If anyone doesn't like the fact that the oc is black, go away.

I was sitting on the porch rolling my eyes as Cory and Shawn were in the backyard, collecting snails. I had tried telling them that it was just a play by Mr. Feeny but as usual, they didn't listen to me. Mr. Feeny was standing behind me looking over at the two boys.

Alan came out into the backyard looking for his son. "Hey, guys. Hmm, collecting snails?" I looked over at the boys, before I continued drawing the flowers.

Cory looked up at his father proudly. "Yeah, Mr. Feeny said we could take 'em off his flowers and use 'em for bait for when we all go fishing Sunday."

Alan looked at our teacher. "Fish don't eat snails."

Mr. Feeny chuckled. "Gee, I guess I was mistaken." I almost fell off the porch, rolling in a fit of laughter. I'm not sure why I found it so funny but to me it was hilarious. Shawn came over and lifted up my sketchbook. Looking down at the flowers he was just sitting in front of and looking back at me, he smiled. I couldn't wait to go fishing with him and Cory. Just a day to be stupid with those two sounded amazing.

"Well, whenever you guys get ready, the bass master here is all set to pass on to the younger generation some of the finer points of spin casting." Alan said to the three of us.

"Manipulating young and impressionable minds. I hope you're proud of yourself, Mr. Feeny." Cory looked up at our teacher with his hands on his hips.

"Indeed I am, Mr. Matthews." Mr. Feeny smiled and turned away from us.

"Come on, guys. Now, the main thing to remember is that basically, it's a simple flick of the wrist." Alan said as we hopped the fence. Well technically, they boys hopped the fence, I was lifted over it. I swear I must've weighed the same as a dust bunny. "You open the bail, hold the line with your finger, and then it's two o' clock, ten o' clock; two o' clock, ten o' clock; two o' clock, ten o' clock..." the hook swung over his head behind.

"Kind of a "quarter after three" thing you got going on there, Dad, huh?"

Mr. Feeny approached the fence. "May a, ah, fellow angler try his luck?"

Alan looked over at the older man, "Be my guest, George." He said, handing the fishing rod to him.

I watched as Mr. Feeny mutters softly before he casts perfectly into a bucket. "It's like getting back on a bicycle. One never forgets." He smiled, content with himself.

Cory looked up at him. "Mr. Feeny, you fish?"

Mr. Feeny nodded. "Oh, sure, I'm an old bass hog from way back. I'll never forget that September morn. 1956. I was after smallmouth bass on the Louisiana delta." I listened so intently. This sounded like such a brilliant story.

Alan didn't seem to think so though. "Sounds fascinating, George." He says sarcastically.

Mr. Feeny didn't seem to catch the disinterest as he went on, much to my pleasure. "Spanish moss hanging down, and the cypress knees jutting up through the brackish water of the bayou..."

Alan tried again. "Sounds fascinating, George." Mr. Feeny stopped and I pouted. I'll have to ask him about it later.

"Dad, how come Eric's not coming with us this year?" Cory asked his father suddenly. I looked over at the curly haired boy.

"Well, your brother's discovered girls. He can't sit still. When you're Eric's age and you can't sit still, I'll take Morgan. It's the endless cycle of fishing." Alan explained.

"Have you tried explaining to Eric that he could take girls fishing with him, Mr. Matthews?" I asked. He smiled at me, I wasn't sure why.

"Not for the activities he wants no. It's the unfortunate part of having children. The boys grow up and can't sit still. The girls...well I don't know yet because Morgan loves ponies, point is after he," he pointed to Cory "loses his mind and obsesses over girls, I'll have Morgan."

"And what about after Morgan?" Cory asked.

Alan shrugged. "Well, then, I'll just be some guy in a fishing hat with a lot of boring stories." He looked over at Mr. Feeny and put his hand over his heart.

"Did you just scare yourself, Dad?" Cory asked.

"Oh, yes, I think I did." He answered sitting down.

I put my head down as I mumbled "I liked the story." To which Shawn carried me over to the bench and handed me my sketchbook. I noticed that he'd continued drawing the flowers. More specifically, he added details to the petals and leaves. He was looking over my shoulder as I continued drawing the grass and tiny bugs.

"Dad, if you're not taking Eric because he's obsessed with girls, why are we taking Shawn?" Cory asked his dad which caused Shawn and I to look over at the two Matthews men. I shrugged and went back to drawing.

+=+=+=+=+

That Sunday, I was woken up by a very smiley Jefferson clutching my bag. "Get your butt out of bed!" He shook me slightly.

"You seem too eager to get me out of the house." I said into my pillow.

"Girl, get up before I call your boyfriend and tell him you're not going!" He threatened.

"Blackmail!" I screamed before finally getting up. "And stop calling Shawn my boyfriend!"

"Well your non boyfriend is going to be here for breakfast soon so...Up!" I crawled out of bed and went to brush my teeth. Jefferson had taken up styling my hair when his wife and daughter weren't here. I think he's doing a great job. When he was done he stepped back and looked at me. "There she is! Now...say it loud." He held up his hand in a closed fist.

I repeated the gesture. "Say it proud."

When he crossed his arms over his chest he said "Say it together."

I again copied the gesture. "Wakanda Forever." We say in unison. Then I hustled to get dressed.

I liked that Jefferson was as much of a nerd as I was.

Once I was dressed, I headed downstairs with a smile. The table was being set and just before I could take my seat the bell rang. "I'LL GET IT!" I opened the door and pulled Shawn in. Jefferson rolled his eyes before he placed the plates on the table.

"So, what kind of stuff do you put on your pancakes, Blue Eyes?"

"Maple syrup, please" He replied as he took off his shoes. We ate together. Jokingly shoving his fork towards me and making faces to get me to laugh, Jefferson was fun with us too. It was all fun and games until Jefferson got a work call.

I know that Jefferson travelled for work. That broke me every time. What made matters worse was that Rachelle and Brianna had taken Jazmyne and Tamara on a 'field trip' but I was too young to go and Brianna was adamant that Adam wasn't allowed to watch me 'unsupervised'.

Jefferson made the face and I knew. "I'll ask if I could stay with the Matthews family." I look down at my breakfast. Noticing the fall of my smile, Shawn slid his last pancake onto my plate.

"Thanks, Shawnie." I smiled.

"No problem, Sunshine!" He smiled back and continued eating.

+=+=+=+=+

Shawn was carrying my bag to the Matthews house. I had told him not to but he insisted. We stood at the door waiting for someone to answer, Shawn kept bumping his elbowing me in the back, not for any real reason but just to be playful.

"Hello guys!" Mrs. Matthews said, opening the door to let us in.

"Hi, Mrs. Matthews. Did Jefferson call you?" I asked, removing my shoes. She nodded and watched as Shawn took a seat on the sofa.

"You're free to stay the night." I smiled.

+=+=+=+=+

I was exhausted after my afternoon of fishing. It was fun but sitting in the sun all day can really wipe you out.

Walking into the backyard, I came to a halt when I saw Eric kissing a girl on Mr. Feeny's side of the fence.

Alan stood awkwardly behind his eldest son. "Nice night, huh?"

Eric turned slowly to his father with a grim look on his face. "Yeah."

Alan turned to Shawn and I. "Well, we're just, uh, passin' through."

"Good. Pass." Eric said, trying to get us out of the backyard.

Shawn being the goofball he is, went up and teased Eric. "Eric, the Lipmaster!" He said, elbowing the teenager. I rolled my eyes and followed him towards the house.

"Yeah, sure. Look, anybody else, or are we all done here?" Eric screamed into the air.

Cory then poked his head out of his treehouse. "Everyone have a great day without me?"

I'm pretty sure we were all surprised to see him. "How long have you been up there?" Eric asked, accusingly pointing at his brother.

"Long enough to watch you swap spit with a Feeny." Cory whined as he climbed out of his treehouse.

"Well, I'd say the mood is sufficiently killed, wouldn't you?" Eric turned to the girl.

"Dead and buried." She replied. She looked over at us and I waved at her. I'm not really sure why.

"I think my little sister is busy tomorrow, so, looks like it's just you and me." Eric shrugged, trying to be nonchalant and failing miserably.

"I'll bring the pen. Good night... everyone!" She waved to the rest of us before she walked into Mr. Feeny's house.

"She's related to Feeny?" Alan asked, in shock I presume.

Eric nodded proudly, "Niece" to which his father nodded "Nice" in reply. Why were they so focused on what she looked like as a Feeny? I don't look like my mom or my dad and they were both very good looking people in my opinion.

"Nice? She's beautiful. I mean, that's the most incredible girl I ever kissed." Eric bellowed. I chuckled.

"Which puts her at the top of a list of, what? Two?" I looked up at the oldest son as I said it. He glared at me which told me I got him. But he smiled as he lifted me up and started walking towards the house.

"Look, making out is not a spectator sport." He said to the rest of the boys in the backyard. They all applauded him. Eric turned and continued to the house. He still hadn't put me down.

"Guys, I'm getting kidnapped!" I screamed as Eric took me into the living room. My sleeping bag was already on the floor when he put me down.

"Alright, Birdie. What's the best part about sleepovers at your best friend's house?" Eric asked as he put me down. His hands were on his hips as Morgan came in to play with her tea set.

I shrugged. "Sleeping on the couch?" I answered apprehensively.

"You need to get out more. No, the best part is making forts to sleep in." The teenager answered. He's nuts.

"You want to make a pillow fort for Cory, Shawn and my sleepover?" I looked up at him.

"Yes. Yes I would." Eric nodded quickly, before Morgan came over.

"Can I help?" I smiled at her.

"Sure thing, Weasel." Eric picked her up and ran upstairs for blankets and pillows.

+=+=+=+=+

That night, after much negotiating with his parents, Cory was lying beside my little fort. Shawn was on the opposite side of it. I had braided my hair and wrapped the scarf around it, cocooned myself in my sleeping bag and was about to fall asleep when I heard the boys moving.

"Cory. Is she asleep?" Shawn asked. I pretended to be.

"Why don't you check?" The curly haired boy grunted as the TV became white noise.

"Fine." Shawn shifted around before peeking his head between the pillows. I kept a straight face as he looked down on me. I must've been a convincing actress because he turned around and put something next to my head.

He laid back down and I opened my eyes to see an adorable little stuffed bear with a purple bow sitting on top of a piece of paper. I smiled at it before I put my head down.

"You guys are so gross." Cory whined.

"Shut up. No we're not!" Shawn mumbled.

"You're acting like a married couple. Gross." Cory explained.

"She's my best friend, Cory." Shawn's voice came out muffled by his pillow.

"No, no, no! I'm your best friend. Tomorrow you're going to go to my mom and ask her to make Raven's favourite breakfast and call her Sunshine." Cory sounded triumphant.

"She is Sunshine. She's still my best friend though." And it all faded as I finally fell asleep.

+=+=+=+=+

After breakfast, we were sitting on Cory's bed as he and Shawn stared at Cory's new baseball card.

"Cal Ripken, Junior – rookie year. I never thought I'd actually get to hold one of these things." Shawn stared at the card in awe.

"My grandma picked it up at this swap meet for seven bucks." Cory smiled happily. Shawn looked at him like he was crazy.

"Seven bucks in dog years. This baby's worth a hundred and fifty, easy."

Cory looked at him in shock. "It is?"

"Are we just going to ignore the fact that Shawn just did mental math?...Well not really but still." I was looking between both boys. But they ignored me.

"Yeah. Boy, your grandma must really love you." Shawn said. I flopped down on the bed holding my new bear. I named it Morrigan.

"Yeah. Or else she shot a man in Reno just to watch him die." I looked over at him, checking to see if either of them would catch that reference.

"You're kidding, right?" Poor Shawn. He looked so scared.

"I'm not sure." Cory looked down at the card with a little bit of fear too.

"It's Johnny Cash." They both looked at me weirdly.

"But I Shot A Man In Reno Just To Watch Him Die. When I Hear That Whistle Blowin' I Hang My Head And Cry. I Bet There's Rich Folks Eatin' In A Fancy Dining Car. They're Prob'ly Drinkin' Coffee And Smokin' Big Cigars, But I Know I Had It Comin', I Know I Can't Be Free, But Those People Keep A-Movin', And That's What Tortures Me." I sang.

"Cool." Cory said when I finished. He has warped interests.

#black reader #boy meets world #shawn hunter x oc #black oc #please dont steal

[jungwnies]

partners ✰ 7 so, you did your research?

masterlist | next

after a long 3 hours you finally arrive with jake at somuuido. "it's beautiful, isn't it?" you say taking your phone out to take a picture of the scenery as jake did the exact same. "the fishing place isn't too far from here i don't think."

after about 10 minutes of walking the two of you have arrived at a fishing spot where the guide had been waiting for you guys, "welcome to somuuido, are you the girl who called us a few days ago about setting up some equipment?"

"how'd you know i love fishing?" jake asks as he casted his line into the water.

"all it took was a little search on twitter, it's almost as if you make being australian and a fisher your personality." you laugh casting your line in as well.

jake rolls his eyes, "what's wrong with a little aussie spirit?"

"it gets annoying when you're informing everyone every second that you're from australia and how blue the fish filled oceans are." you tell him reeling back in your line with no fish on the other end.

"you shouldn't reel your line in immediately after casting it by the way." jake says as his line stays out.

you roll your eyes, "then what, am i supposed to stand here for hours and wait for a fish to bite?"

jake laughs and reels his line in, "you should cast it, reel it in every 30 seconds to make it seem like there is live bait in the water, and then that's when the fish will bite." jake demonstrates, "like this."

you copy what he did and look at him. "is this right?"

"your casting skills could use a little improvement, but you're getting there." he tells you.

ten minutes later jake was shouting, "i got a fish! i think i got a fish!" he says reeling in his line that now had a little tension due to whatever was on the other end. eventually he wins the quick tug of war just to find out he had caught a branch. "nevermind." he says defeated.

you laugh and shake your head, "nice job, idiot."

you feel a tug in your line, "wait, i think i actually have a fish!" you exclaim, reeling it in. it was also a small fight to reel it in, except you actually did catch a fish. "this is the first time i've gone fishing, and i'm already doing better than you."

"bro, you actually just caught a fish! a crucian carp!" jake says excitedly as he helps you take the fish off the hook. "i think you should take a picture with the first fish you've ever caught."

you nod and hand him your phone from your back pocket. you hold the fish by the mouth and show it to the camera smiling. jake takes the picture and hands you back your phone after you released the fish back into the ocean.

the two of you continued fishing in peace, although there was playful banter here and there, it was the calmest interaction you've shared with each other.

the sun is starting to set, "it's beautiful here, i think i want to take ni-ki here one day maybe." jake says as the two of you pack up the fishing equipment to take it back to the store.

you nod and walk back to the building with jake behind you.

"thank you guys for coming today, you two make a beautiful couple." the older man says as he collects the borrowed equipment.

"oh we're not dating." the two of you say at the same time.

"my mistake, please forgive me." the man says, smiling.

you laugh, "it's alright, thank you again for letting us borrow the fishing stuff today."

"yes, yes, feel free to come back any time. it gets lonely here sometimes." the man says waving at the two of you guys as you two walk away.

"what time is it?" you ask jake as the two of you make  your way back to the train station.

"oh it's already 8pm." jake says shocked as he checked his watch. "we haven't even eaten dinner yet."

"when we get back to seoul it'll be a little before 12am." you tell him. "since we're already here, why don't we get something to eat?"

jake nods, "that sounds good, i think i saw this really nice place a little bit back." jake says, turning around.

"you're paying." you tell as you follow him back to the restaurant he spotted a while back.

"it was your idea to come here, i think you should pay." jake tells you as he holds the door open to the restaurant.

you roll your eyes, "after what you said to me last week, i think you should be the one to make up for it with dinner."

"y/n about that, i really want to-" jake begins to say until the older lady interrupts him.

"welcome to cafe joeunnal (섬카페좋은날 in somuuido)." the older lady says smiling at the two of you. "table for two?"

word count: 846 | thanks for reading!

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2022 © jungwnies

#enhypenwriters #enhypen imagines #enhypen smau #enhypen au #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #jake imagines #jake smau #jake au #jake scenarios #jake fluff #jake x reader #jake angst #jaeyun scenarios #jaeyun imagines #jaeyun smau #jaeyun au #jaeyun fluff #jaeyun angst #jaeyun x reader #jungwnies #𐐪♡︎₊˚ ― jungwnies #jungwnies ; partners (sim jaeyun)

[ajgrey9647]

Gift of Kismet

Squinting against the harsh glare of the sunlight reflecting off the gently lapping waves of the lake, Drakkon muttered yet another irritated obscenity. How anyone could find this shit relaxing or enjoyable, he had no idea. They had to be a bunch of goddamn liars!

The cotton of his green t-shirt chaffed at his skin uncomfortably, every muscle of his back tight and stiff as he stood on the rickety, wooden pier, fighting to keep from scratching madly at the insect bites that surely covered every inch of his ass.

“Are you certain this is the way you wish for us to spend our day, darling? Standing out here, sweating our balls off, while we stare at a small piece of plastic floating in the water in hopes of catching a foul-smelling, slime-coated beast that we don’t even get to keep…”

Drakkon’s brow arched as he glanced down at where the gray-haired man sat, bare lower legs dangling in the cool water as he idly manipulated his fishing pole. Chuckling, Red couldn’t hide his cheerful grin.

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s part of the experience, remember?” he responded. “Besides, it’s not like we have anything else penciled in today. No rebellious Coinless cells to squash or warlords to menace in the Prime Universe.”

From the corner of his eye, Red watched in amusement as his companion lifted a disgusted lip, pinching a squirmy earthworm between his fingertips. The tyrant glared at the defiant creature as he readied a barbed hook.

“Hold still, you willful little shit,” he hissed, trying to spear the writhing bait.

Red found it amazing how prissy Drakkon could be, a real hoot when one considered the bloody carnage and devastation he’d wrought throughout his previous domain. The asshole was notorious for his outlandish, theatrical punishments, often carried out on a grand scale no matter how slight the offense. Human gore, charred remains, decaying flesh…none of those revolting things caused him to bat an eye.

But here he stood now, appearing very much a normal middle-aged man instead of an all-powerful dictator Ranger, repulsed by handling earthworms with his bare hands and risking unzipping their guts over his flesh.

“I doubt its going to obey you,” Red spoke up teasingly. “You’ll need to pin it more tightly so it can’t twist on itself.”

The comment only served to further annoy the other man.

“I don’t need help from the peanut gallery,” he huffed. “I’ve impaled hundreds on far worse implements. This is nothing.”

“Suit yourself.”

Red turned his attention back to his own brightly hued bobber, bouncing easily on the waves that crested against the bottom of the pier. He joyfully glided his legs to and fro, relishing the feel of the lake water as it tickled his calves. The warmth of the sun on his thick mane, the smell of the summer air, the chirping of birds as they flitted through the sky… The great outdoors was a marvel, beautiful and full of wonder, even if it brought with it agoraphobia and anxiety.

“Jason may have fished before… I can’t get a clear memory of it to come through. But I’ve only read about it in books,” he murmured, emphasizing his new incarnation. “I’m excited to see what kind of species are out here.”

Finally having success with hooking his worm, Drakkon briskly cast his line out over the water before coming to settle beside his partner.

“Well, I’m thrilled that you’re enjoying yourself, darling. Because I feel as stiff as a corpse from laying in that sleeping bag all night while mosquitoes gnawed polka dots all over my ass cheeks. Was it absolutely necessary to camp out in a tent for our little excursion instead of getting a cabin with an actual bed and shower?”

His eyes went to where Red’s legs disappeared into the water, and he shuddered.

“Not that I intend to be as courageous as you, but I would prefer not smelling like sweaty ass after sitting on this splintery wood under a hot sun for a majority of the day.”

Sighing, the former pet patted the tyrant’s thigh.

“It’s not that bad, is it? I know its not what you are accustomed to after living in a palace for decades, with silks, furs, and exotic cuisine. But part of our agreement is that we are teaching each other to be human again.”

Drakkon snorted, a mirthful smile curling his lips.

“Talk about the blind leading the blind, darling,” he quipped. “But yes, I suppose I need to come down out of the clouds and learn to behave as a mere mortal after all those years infused with the energy of two power coins. However, I don’t believe I was quite right in the head even before receiving them.”

Shrugging, Red grinned as well.

“And I have to become reacquainted with things I once knew as a human, not run about like a feral canine. Being out in the big wide world with the freedom to choose after all this time… learning out to interact with others socially, becoming less anxious and fearful…” he mused. “It’s a lot for us both, but I know we can navigate this together.”

The tyrant pressed a tender kiss to his partner’s temple.

“The fact that you’re here, giving me another chance, to try to atone for what I did to you and Jason in our world…” he whispered. “My previous offer is a standing one, if you ever feel you never want to set eyes on me again. I won’t try to hurt you or stop you from leaving, you know…”

“I know,” Red soothed, nestling closer into the other man’s side. “Maybe this time, we’ll get it right. Because I want to be here with you, love.”

Since the pair had arrived unexpectedly in the Prime Universe, their relationship dynamic had changed dramatically as each was somehow changed during their interdimensional travel. The alterations were physical, but mental; the vile, hateful beliefs and behaviors they’d engaged in somehow seared away, opening places in their minds for reflection, clarity, and growth.

Following Red’s discovery of the truth of his reality and the circumstances of his creation, an extremely volatile altercation had taken place and a tense period followed, each man unsure what the next course of action would be. They’d continued side by side, loaded topics and unpleasant conversations left unspoken until their true feelings were examined.

For the former pet, a big indication of his ‘master’s’ desire to change and become a better person occurred when the tyrant agreed to respect Red’s wish to refrain from sexual activity until he felt he was ready. And he hadn’t just paid lip service; Drakkon had not tried to coax, pressure, threaten, or bribe him into sex. He contented himself with holding Red’s hand, embracing him in tender hugs, and brushing loving kisses to his face.

It was as if they were courting in an old-fashioned romance novel.

A sudden firm tug on his line caught Drakkon’s attention and he stared in bewilderment at the place where his bobber had vanished beneath the waves.

“Looks like you get the first one,” Red chuckled. “Reel it in and let’s see what we’ve got!”

After a moment of embarrassed hesitation, the tyrant gave a forceful yank with his fishing pole, finding his feet as he rolled his line back. Truly he did not want to touch the goddamn beast, all scaley, smelly, and gasping with a quivering gaped open mouth. The worm was by far a better creature to deal with than this mysterious monstrosity.

But Red looked so fucking excited at the asshole’s good fortune that he steeled himself to manhandle the accursed, mindless animal. Already the gray-haired man was marking a line next to Drakkon’s name on the tally sheet he’d set up to keep score, the lined notebook situated at his thigh alongside a reference book on local species that his partner had purchased for him.

“I can’t wait to see what kind it is!”

“Uhh… the nasty kind,” Drakkon grumbled, watching as the fish flipped and flopped against its inevitable trek to the pier.

Ignoring him, Red abandoned his own pole as he leafed through the glossy array of pictures in his book.

“I wonder if it’s a trout. There’re several species that supposedly live out here.”

The asshole couldn’t have given less of a shit, though he stopped himself from saying as much.

‘How the fuck am I supposed to get the bastard off of this thing? Do I really have to touch it?’

Before he could brace himself, the fish swung up through the air to dangle before his wide eyes, its tail arching every which way, pinwheeling the beast in an odd sort of dance. The absolute, fucking stench of the thing was overwhelming, and a torrent of saliva flooded his mouth, a warning sign of what was to come.

‘Goddamn, I’m lucky the Grid only enhanced my hearing and not my sense of smell! This is bad enough as it is!’

He scarcely realized that Red had bounded to his feet for a closer inspection of the fish’s features, wonder clearly written across his face.

“Ok, do you see any spots on it? I don’t think it has any but it’s moving around too much. Maybe if you could it still a second…”

But Drakkon made no move to seize the convulsing animal, only staring at it wildly with a sheen of sweat on his pale forehead. So Red took charge, gripping the fish carefully to avoid the scrape of sharp scales or spines.

“Fascinating,” he breathed, admiring the beautiful scales shining in a cascade of lovely colors under the sunlight.

Finally realizing his partner had remained silent throughout his ‘victory’, the former pet glanced up, gasping in shock at the greenish pallor on Drakkon’s face.

“Love? What’s the matter? Are you alright?”

But Drakkon heard not one word, unable to ascertain if the fish had spots or not or even what color the damnable thing was as if that would change anything with what he was currently laser focused on. Poking through the creature’s eye socket, the barbed end of the hook jutted like a spear, the wide, staring eyeball itself stuck to the tip like sickly confetti.

“Oh, what the fuck, darling? It’s goddamn eye popped out! That is the nastiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life!” he rambled stupidly, trying to back away from the fish even as he clutched his pole in his clammy grip.

Frowning, Red turned the animal’s face towards him and noted what had so distressed his partner.

“Uh oh… poor guy,” he cooed sadly, as Drakkon tried to continue his hasty retreat. “Ouch, stop pulling on the line! You’re making it worse, and I don’t want to end up with a hook in my hand!”

But it was too late. The tyrant could feel his stomach roiling and the burn of acid lighting up his throat like a blow torch.

“Fucking hell!” he rasped, dropping the fishing pole and darting off into the bracken, leaving Red to stare after him in stunned shock.

“Shit,” he muttered, trying to work the fish free without making more of a mess than he already had.

Easing the animal off at least, he gently slid it back into the water, where it disappeared into the unknown, destined to become a tasty meal for a fitter, larger creature.

Red wiped his soiled hands over the legs of his cargo shorts, sliding his wet feet back into his sneakers quickly. Scanning the tree line, he hoped to be able to spot his partner without having to set off on his own to hunt him down. He wasn’t sure if he’d be brave enough to get very far.

This side of the lake wasn’t as full of visitors out for a summer’s day of fun. From this distance, Red could hear their excited noises and watch them milling about without too much anxiety. A good exposure therapy as Drakkon called it, perhaps helping him to one day no longer be fearful around other people.

But that day was not today.

“Drakkon?” he called as loudly as he dared, walking towards the spot where he’d last seen his partner’s fleeing back.

Already feeling his palms growing clammy and nervous sweat gathering at his temples, Red forced himself to continue onward.

‘What if I can’t find him? What if he doesn’t come back?” he panicked. ‘I don’t know how to live in this world by myself! And I don’t know anyone here besides the people who CAN’T know about me!’

How the hell would he ever explain to any authorities who he was and how he got here? How he had the same fingerprints and DNA of someone much younger than he thought he was currently, who didn’t have a twin of any sort to begin with…

“Fuck!” he hissed, feeling his terror growing and his nerves twitching along his cheeks.

“Love? Where are you? Please come out! I’m afraid I’m going to flip out if I don’t find you soon!”

‘The Rangers will end being contacted and they’ll lock me away in a padded room somewhere! After they beat the shit out of me most likely! I was a spiteful rude dick to them before, so I wouldn’t blame them for getting revenge!’

Red felt like crying, much like a small, terrified child, which as a man in his forties was embarrassing beyond belief. People would notice a full-grown adult with a full beard and facial scars walking through the lake front sobbing his eyes out.

‘Unless I get stuck in a rage and accidentally hurt someone!’ he fretted.

The playful yelling and shrieking of children pierced the air as he walked further on, the large playground up ahead swarming with a roving blur of youngsters running about.

‘I might hurt a young one!’ he gasped.

Would he though? As a palace pet, Red didn’t have exposure to children. Drakkon found them annoying and loud and a huge pain in the ass. He couldn’t recall his former master ever doing anything to a little one in terms of punishment or correction, not like the adults surrounding him. So how might he respond?

‘I can’t risk it. Not knowing what I’m capable of doing to jacked-up, muscular enemies. A child would be nothing at all to tear up.’

Pausing in his timid footsteps, he stared over at the small clusters of families and rambunctious kids tearing across the grass, whooping, and laughing.

A large hand landed on his shoulder, making him jump and whirl around, braced to fight with his fists clenched and raised near his face.

“Easy, darling! It’s me,” Drakkon soothed, pulling him in for a snug embrace. “Apologies for ditching you but I didn’t want you to see me behaving like a weak-willed pussy.”

Turning his head slightly, the tyrant spat another mouthful of acidic bile-laced saliva into the greenery. Red buried his face in his partner’s neck, shaking slightly with relief as he struggled to get himself under control.

“I’ve seen you at your worst, love,” he reminded softly. “What’s a little vomiting at this point?”

“Weakness is hard for me, but I endeavor to improve upon that.”

The two stood in silence a moment, standing in the shadows of the large trees surrounding the playground. Without warning, the usual excited exclamations drifting through the air turned into shrill, horrified screams of terror. Alarmed, Drakkon and Red turned toward the source of the cries.

Children were scattering in every which direction as their parents struggled to scoop them up. Several grey, clay-like figures gave chase, herding the kids in the opposite direction of the adults, rounding them up near the edge of the lake. Large Z shaped insignia’s adorned the creatures’ chests.

“What the fuck are they?” Red yelled.

Drakkon hissed in a breath, gliding his tongue across the front of his sharp teeth.

“Ahh, yes, darling… You never had the displeasure of meeting Lord Zedd in our timeline. A huge buffoon, truly, and these boneheads are his version of Putty Patrollers.”

Red’s brow furrowed at the term.

‘Putty Patrollers…’

An image came to him then, a long-ago time when he’d fought similar monsters, punching and kicking them like dusty rag dolls.

“I remember,” he whispered as his eyes widened. “They were Rita’s henchmen.”

Before Drakkon could answer, a loud growly voice snarled viciously.

“Yes, get them, Putties! They’ll make great bait for those troublesome Power Brats!”

Now, the tyrant groaned in supplication.

“Oh, goddammit! I forgot this motherfucker isn’t dead here! I always hated when he’d go running to Rita with his latest bitching of the week!”

Red pointed over his partner’s shoulder, lips parted in shock.

“That’s not all, love! Look what’s over there!”

A lumbering monster stalked towards the horrified parents, large lidless eyes prominently displayed on either side of its ‘face’ and gills flapping as its stumpy legs staggered forward.

“Now, I’m calling bullshit! Absolute bullshit!” Drakkon snapped.

The former pet’s head turned quickly back towards where the small children huddled, backing away from the frightening Titan and his goons.

“They’re going to do something bad to the kiddos! And the Rangers aren’t here yet!” he growled. “I know we can’t let them see us, but I can’t just stand here and…”

Red’s voice sounded as authoritative and commanding as it had so long ago, causing Drakkon to stare at his darling in awe.

“Very well then,” he chuckled. “It’s been ages since we’ve had the joy of delivering a much-deserved ass beating. If you’ll see to the rugrats, I’ll fuck with Flounder over there!”

Before they dashed off in separate directions, he raised a brow.

“Though do be mindful if any Rangers show up. Run like your hair is on fire and your ass is catching. We’ll meet back at the pier where we left our shit.”

Red smiled his old wide canine grin, a growl sounding in his throat.

“Noted.”

#boom! comics power rangers #power rangers #lord drakkon #world of the coinless jason #jason scott #coinless jason #mighty morphin power rangers #ao3 author #ao3 fanfic #tommy oliver #jason lee scott #the quad life #new beginnings #start of it all

[abarbaricyalp]

Hey! I absolutely adore your fanfics and I've started to come up with ideas for my own fics but somehow I'm stuck at actually writing them down in a fully formed version, I just have vague plot ideas and moments I want to happen in the fic but actually transforming it into a fanfic feels impossible to me -- I have a few lines here and there written out, but those are just tiny scenes. Maybe I just lack the creative drive and I'm simply not a writer. Still, I wanted to ask, do you have any advice for anyone who wants to get into fanfic writing? Where do you draw inspiration from?

Thank you so much for such kind words! I'm so glad my stories resonate with you! ❤️ And it's so exciting to hear that you're venturing into your own story making 🎉🎉🎉🎉

I've been thinking about this question since I saw it and I think my answer boils down to "you have to train your brain to be open and be thinking constantly." (Of course, by constantly, I don't mean you have to be taxing and straining yourself every single moment) Being a writer feels like a full time job (or hobby!) sometimes because my brain is always going. Does that streetlight inspire something? Is that weird tree a candidate for a new character? Was that joke funny enough to use in a fic? Do I wanna set something in an antique store just to include this weird timelessness vertigo I have? I'm gonna take a picture of that "cow crossing" road sign to use later.

I have been writing for as long as I can remember. I have distinct memories of being five years old and squirreling away stories in drawers all over the house. I've always been a voracious reader. My inner voice never stops. And my imagination has always been stronger than my attention span 😄 All of this to say, it feels like stories come pretty naturally to me, but that's because I've been making them up my whole life. I'm very sorry if this is not so helpful.

One starting point I've often come back to (even as a long time writer) is to WRITE stories the way you TELL stories. How do you talk to your family or friends when you're recounting an event? That's telling stories. How would you explain something you saw to someone taking a statement? That's telling stories. How do you recap an episode of TV or a book you read? That's telling stories. Sure, it's not as flashy and verbose as some written fiction, but it's still telling stories. And you may find that that is a voice you relate to as you're writing. Plenty of authors have a straight forward style. The more you stretch that story telling muscle, the more likely you are to find the rhythm of the story and your voice. If you're finding it difficult or daunting to write down a whole idea at once or you can't find the link between A and D, write down how you would describe it to someone. Nothing ever has to be a final draft, certainly not a first draft.

Similarly, start small. I can't tell you how many of my stories began as single lines of dialog or a quick scene image. It's totally fine to write 50, 100, 200, 300 words because that small aspect interested you. (It's fine to post that! If that's all you want to say or share about it!) I have a whole file of small moments like that, which I go through every now and then to see if the rest of the story has found me yet. Quite often, I think you may find that as you sit with a line or an image for a while, something else is going to slot into place. Maybe not the exact next line, maybe just a plot idea, maybe a character dynamic or new relationship. Let these things come to you. Or write down your idea and then just keep typing, even if it makes no sense. Writing is kind of like fishing sometimes. I just keep casting my hook out and waving the pole around until it catches on something. (You know, how normal people fish) Inspiration is important, but it's not the be-all and end-all of writing. Unfortunately, it's usually just the bait on the line. Writing can be a bit of work. You have to put in the effort after an idea grabs you and you have to keep writing on your own. There is, unfortunately, no divine delivery most of the time.

Inspiration is one of those things that you have to train your brain for. (Seems counterintuitive, I know) But hear me out: in any given day, an author will experience the same sights, sounds, news, movies, songs, and phenomena that every else around them does. Any of those things can trigger you into saying, "wait, this could be a story." I have plenty of posts on here where I talk about AUs based on movies or songs or video games because at the moment it struck me that this situation could be repurposed for a fic or a story. Interacting with other art in the world and learning to recognize tropes, emotional triggers, arcs, plots, conflicts etc etc and then how to play with and break them is definitely one way to train yourself to be open to Inspiration and new ideas.

Once you do have an idea, write it down. I promise you will not remember it, no matter how cool it was. Keep some paper or a designated notes app for these things. Be as thorough or vague as you like. I have so many random lines, character names, AUs, plots, and images saved. Ponder these things, especially if you're really grabbed by one. Think about what you would like to see with it. Who else is filling out the space? What is the end goal? Writing is full of big questions that may be answered easily, may need to be forced through, or may need to sit back and rest for a moment. I wish I had better advice here, but it really is just that sitting with your inspiration for a while can help your ideas so much, especially if you're stuck. Ideas want to talk to you. They (you) just need to find the words.

So inspiration doth strike. Now what? Like I said, now is the work. A whole fic will likely never come to you all at once. Take what you know of the fic-- your lines, your images, your trope etc-- and write them out. Then begin making the connective webs inbetween. This where the verbal story telling comes in. Quick lines often blossom into full scenes. Even if they don't, no biggie. You're learning the story here. You're getting to know it. You wouldn't expect to understand a person fully upon just meeting them. I've even created outlines before with my big ideas, then just kept getting more specific in the subheadings until much of the full plot was there and waiting.

This takes practice. Finding (and trusting) your creative voice is a skill that can be worked out the same as any muscle, but you do have to put in some hard work with slow results. Don't be afraid to backspace or go in a different direction. I can't tell you how many of my stories were supposed to be one thing but ended up going in a completely different direction to great results. Tell It To The Bees was supposed to be a quick, goofy Three (or five) And One story about Bucky getting caught talking to the bees, very silly and light, but once I started writing it, it became such a different story and I think it's so much better for it. Inspiration, imagination, interest, and desire are all working in tandem (or fighting) as you write. Along with learning to be open to inspiration, you must also learn to listen to these instincts as you write. Which really just takes practice and trust. I'm sure you are already in tune with these things inside of you. Let them roam as you write too.

It sounds like your creative voice is awake and kicking! Now it's just about putting in work-- pay attention to the world and art around you, write often and badly and slowly and smally, and figure out what connective webbing looks like for you. Stories really are living things. You have to give them the space, attention, resources, and love to grow, and you have to help them along. Don't be discouraged that you're just beginning this journey but can't sprint to the finish line right now. Writers are also living things, who need space, attention, resources, and love to grow 😊 Just keep writing and taking risks and you'll see a pay off.

Oh! And READ! READ EVERYTHING. Creativity rarely grows in a vacuum. You have to see good art to make good art. You won't know what possibilities are unless you're out seeing what other people are doing. A certain turn of phrase, a camera movement, character interactions, descriptions, these all can inspire you or just give you the knowledge and confidence to grow as a writer. Read everything you want, watch everything you like, listen to music and pay attention to the lyrics or the instrumentals, devour podcasts and news stories, go to art museums and make up stories to go along with the pictures. The whole world is there to teach you and help you grow.

#writing #about me #i answer things

[glambots]

Do you remember the fisher au?

Imagine night fishing, enjoying the peace despite the deep, black expanse of lake or sea beneath you to the light of a lantern. You have a bite, and reel, but lose it. Your line snaps, and takes the hook with it. You don't think much of it, it happens all the time. You tie a new hook, bait it, and cast again. Then you hear it. A high pitched, mournful cry, carried across the water. You know what it is, you think all people do. Maybe on some sort of instinct.

The call to the void gets worse the longer you stay, you know that much. But getting back to shore takes time. You try not to listen. You're pretty successful, until you realize that too was a mistake. To your horror, you realize the song is much closer now. You can see the dark shadow of a creature lurking beneath your boat, outpacing your boat with delicate strokes of its tail. It's playing with you, upset you haven't succumb yet. You're unsure if you'll be safe even if you get to shore. You've heard awful tales of the determination sirens seem to have, and you don't want to find out how true those stories are. You're halfway back to the safety of land, when there's a knock on the side of your boat. It's soft, almost playful. You look to the side, into the water. Looking back at you, much to your displeasure and even despair, is a second siren. It's keeping up just as easily as the other, sticking a clawed, webbed hand nearly into the boat. You follow where its pointing and find your tackle box is the object of its apparent affection. You can work with that. Sure as hell not ideal, but you can work with that. The second is yet to make an appearance, but you'd honestly like it to stay like that. Either way your bait is a suitable sacrifice for your life.

Unfortunately for you, feeling celestial sirens is much like feeding a stray cat.

Suji.

Suji, I love this.

#ask #long ask #mermaid au #mer au #siren au #sunnydrop (implied) #moondrop (implied) #ficlet #sfw #silly #cute #fluff #not a request #sujithe2dwaifu

[amethystandemma]

Freddy’s First Date

Part 3 (the finale)

Please tell me what you think!

. . . . . . . . . .

“Why do we need…” Mercy scrunched her nose. “Worms?”

Freddy hooked the worm onto the hook, his hands moving on instinct as if he had done this dozens of times, which he had. “It’s bait.”

“Are they going to die?”

“Uh…”

Elvy chose that moment to run off the dock and jump into the water. Freddy exhaled, relieved.

I’m really starting to love that pup, he thought.

“Elvy!” Mercy yelled.

She jumped in after the dog, swimming with speed unusual for her age. The two started splashing around, Mercy laughing and Elvy barking happily.

“She’s a strong swimmer,” Freddy said, sitting down next to Azalea.

She stared out onto the lake, watching her buoy bounce up and down with the ripples from the splashing. “Yeah, it’s a law back home that all kids need to learn how to swim.”

Freddy cast his line. “More places need to do that.”

“Mhm.”

Azalea reached for Freddy’s hand without taking her eyes off of the water. He could feel the heat rush to his face and guessed he was as red as a tomato. How she was doing all of this so casually, he would never know.

“Is this okay?” she asked.

“No, don’t worry.” Freddy winced. “I mean, yes, it’s okay.”

Azalea gently squeezed his hand. “I get flustered too.”

“You do?”

She nodded.

“But you’re so… calm.” Freddy said. “You always look amazing.” He blushed even harder, which he didn’t know was possible.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Azalea said quietly. “My mom isn’t in the best place since dad was dishonorably discharged. I don’t want to give her more to worry about, y’know?”

“He was dishonorably discharged?”

Azalea nodded again, sighing. “He was turned into a vampire by Varrick Valentine and attempted to murder the King Consort.”

“Oh.”

Azalea’s fish shaped buoy went underneath the surface. The two teenagers leapt up from the bench.

“What does that mean? What should I do?” Azalea asked.

“Pull up!”

She yanked her rod with so much force, the hook flew behind, looping around a nearby tree branch. The hook had no fish, no worm, and was completely straight. Freddy smirked, trying his best not to laugh.

“I don’t understand.” Azalea looked at the dangling line. “Where is the fish?”

Freddy couldn’t hold back his amusement and started to laugh. Azalea looked at him, her fists on her hips and a very confused look in her cocoa eyes. That made him laugh even harder.

“What’s so funny, Freeman?” Azalea asked.

“You pulled… so hard…” Freddy gasped between laughs, “that the hook… was ripped…” he wheezed, “out of the fish’s mouth!”

Azalea rolled her eyes as Freddy fell onto the planks of the dock, laughing so hard he was crying. After a few seconds, she snorted.

“You look so stupid,” she said.

“And yet, you wanted to come on a date with me,” Freddy said, smirking.

She held out her hand and looked away. Freddy took it, pleased to see that she was blushing. He glanced back out at the water and saw that his buoy was submerged.

“I’m going to help you this time, alright?” Freddy handed her his fishing rod, keeping his hands over Azalea’s. “Now, we’re going to pull back on the rod.”

Together, they pulled back quickly but not with as much force as before. Freddy could feel the strain that he grew accustomed to when fishing with Grandpa Jacob, and felt a familiar adrenaline rush.

“Real it in, nice and easy,” Freddy said, moving her hand to the reel.

Together they quickly spun the reel. The fish got closer and closer, splashing everything around it as it moved. The two lifted up the pole, a large bass flailing around from the line.

“We did it!” Azalea laughed.

Freddy smiled, taking the fish from the line and hooking it onto the stringer.

“Congratulations Azalea,” he said. “You caught your first fish.”

Azalea kissed his cheek, making him blush. “Thanks to you.”

“You missed,” Freddy muttered, leaning in close.

Azalea wrapped her arms around his neck, closing the gap, and kissed him.

“What are you two-” Macy started to say, holding Elvy. She wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”

#freddy’s first date #freddy freeman #captain marvel jr #shazam jr #shazamily #shazam #freddy freeman x oc #captain marvel jr x oc #shazam jr x oc #dc #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #shazamily fanfic #shazamily fanfiction

[burnwater13]

Moff Gideon! Grogu was so tired to thinking about Moff Gideon. He didn’t like how smug the human was. How ‘Know it all-ish’ he acted. How prone to tantrums he was. Uff. Couldn’t that guy just go away?

Grogu was pretty sure that the Mandalorian felt the same way about the former war lord. Former because the Empire was over and done with. No more Emperor. No more Vader. No more Sith. So why did this guy even exist? Why wasn’t he hiding somewhere? Why hadn’t the New Republic taken care of him yet? It was so annoying to have lots of questions and no answers. 

When Grogu felt frustrated like that there was just one thing to do. Go fishing. That’s right. When Grogu got frustrated with everything and everyone he would get his fishing pole, his creel, his bait box, and his lures and his fishing hat and take the long walk to a suitable body of water. Some places that walk had been more of a trudge. On Tatooine it had been impossible until he met Fennec Shand and Daimyo Fett. 

Grogu was having one of those frustrating days, having just heard that Moff Gideon had been spotted in the Outer Rim doing war lord things again. Din Djarin had just brought them to Tatooine to visit Boba Fett to check on how Marshal Vanth was doing with his rehab and suddenly had to go off to fix the ‘Gideon problem once and for all’. This time, instead of bringing Grogu with him to learn more about bounty hunting, he’d asked Fennec and the Daimyo to host Grogu for a couple of days. 

Now you know why Grogu was having a frustrating day! His dad was headed off to danger without him and that just didn’t seem right. He was very annoyed with Din, but since he was already gone there was no way to convey it to him directly. Instead he stomped around the palace until the Daimyo asked him what was wrong. Grogu tried to explain how he was feeling as succinctly as possible, when Fennec appeared out of no where.

“Boss, the kid’s mad at his dad. He thinks he should be with him risking his neck on dealing with the Moff. I think he needs to go fishing and burn off some of that energy.”

“Fishing? On Tatooine, Fennec?” Boba Fett had asked. He seemed pretty surprised at the idea.

Grogu was surprised that Fennec understood exactly what he needed. Did his dad blab to her about his passion for fishing?

“We can take him out to the Pika Oasis. Vanth needs to get some exercise. He can come with us. He likes the kid.” Fennec replied with ease. Huh? Was she just looking for a way to get out of the palace and do something fun for a change?

“Very well, Fennec. Let the MajorDomo know. We’ll leave at once and take the barge. We do still have a barge?” Boba asked to thin air.  Fennec was already gone.

How did she do that? Grogu didn’t know. No one knew. He shrugged at the Daimyo who returned the shrug. That was comforting. 

The next thing he knew, Cobb Vanth was scooping him up with his left arm.

“I heard you wanted to go fishin’. Sounds good to me. Didn’t know there was an Oasis on Tatooine and I’ve been livin’ here my whole life.” The marshal grinned at him. Grogu grinned at Cobb Vanth. He was grateful that the marshal had been saved by Daimyo Fett. 

“Hey, that wouldn’t have happened if my operatives hadn’t learned about as soon as they did. Okay, kid, Vanth, let’s go.”

Fennec was back just like that and off they went. Grogu could feel the waves of relaxation rolling over him and dragging the frustration he’d been feeling away. It was a good feeling. 

“So who taught you to fish, little one?” Boba Fett asked as he put bait on his own hook, once they were settled at the Oasis.

“Forget about him Boss, who taught you to fish? You’ve been here for as long as I’ve known you.” Fennec asked, incredulously.

“I did have a life before I met you Fennec. I grew up on a water world. I went fishing everyday with my father. It was very nice.” 

Grogu smiled at that and baited his own line and cast it very effectively into the Oasis, while the rest of them watched. This was great. If he couldn’t spend time with his dad, at least he could spend time with his friends and plan their next father-son outing. Grogu bet that Din Djarin would love fishing. Who wouldn’t?

#calendar prompt a day #the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin #fennec shand #boba fett

[katybooholmes]

Fishing with my dad

My dad taught me how to fish. 

It starts with the gear. Nothing fancy. Just a pole, a reel that works and a decent-sized bobber. Don’t bother with all the expensive gear. Sometimes simple is better. 

And don’t forget the bait. Ask the guys at the bait shop what they’re biting. Don’t be afraid to ask for help from someone who knows more than you do. 

Dad taught me how to bait the hook. Whether it’s a night crawler, minnow, or leech. Pick one, pull it out of the Styrofoam tub and thread it onto the hook. Don’t be afraid. Go for it.

It took several attempts, years even, to learn how to gracefully cast a line into the open water. Give yourself some space, he said. Don’t rush, and don’t hook the dog, he said from experience. 

Fishing is patience. It’s peaceful. Feel the waves rock the boat or hear the waves lapping on the shore. Listen to the birds flying overhead as you wait for the strike.

Fishing is knowing when to cut your losses. Knowing when to reel in your line and recast in another spot. Maybe you need to change your depth and adjust the bobber to allow for deeper or shallower water.

Recast and wait for a bite. Anticipation is exciting. Meanwhile, if you’re lucky you have sunshine on your face and a friend by your side.

Fishing means being quiet. It’s not a loud activity. Dad told me the fish can hear you stomping on the dock or talking loud in the boat. Your silence may be rewarded.

If you get a nibble, don’t yank yet, but when the bobber dives underwater, it’s time to set the hook. Commit and reel it in steady.

Tell your partner to grab the net. It’s nice to have a partner. It’s nice to have a net.

Sometimes you pull in the prize, sometimes you get cleaned.

My dad taught me how to take a fish off the hook. Start at the head and with a firm grip slide your hand down over the spines. This part never goes well the first few times, but sharp spines have a way of teaching you to grip with authority.

Sure, a good day of fishing yields a big catch. But impressive haul or no haul, a good day of fishing is living in the moment and taking time to appreciate what’s around you.

Thanks for the life lessons, Dad. I miss you. 

[dishtothedeath]

Fish Out of Water || Liêm || Trial 1.1

All forms of light struggle to breach depths such as these. How far he's sunk into lifeless eyes. He's been cast away, in a fog, submerged, ever since they vacated the corpses and plodded their way here, to the trial room. facing each other -

breathing, blinking, alive. Like you have any right to be. Mm. Liêm has a hard time justifying the air in his lungs. Hey. Hey, hey, hey. Aren't you supposed to be drowning? Drowning in this? Drowning in the blood pooling under their poor corpses?

You're not supposed to look at a body from a distance. Have some respect. You need to get in close. Check the wrist for a pulse. Breathe it in, if you can. You know what this is. This scent. This atmosphere. This decay.

This is only the beginning. There's no shore in sight, yet you're already all washed up. Lifeless eyes demand an answer you're floundering to give, hey, hey, why? Why? Why did you let this happen?

For Liêm, everything has been muffled, warbled, and he can't help but feel everything's coming at him as though from underwater. Sound is a wave, and it's traveling too fast for him to pick up on as he thumbs absently at the pulse point at his wrist, feeling more than hearing that traitorous heart. Like it deserved to beat at all.

Everything's muffled. Warbled. In one ear and out the other, and there's only one thing that's coming through loud and clear.

He hears a voice from far away, from the fugue, from the fog, comforting in its familiarity, but so disconcerting because he knows it shouldn't be there, and it's chiding, and it's scolding, and then. Then, it's screaming.

Hey.

Hey, hey, hey.

Hey!

HEY!

You know what this is. Face it. Don't look away. Don't rock the boat. Don't you dare rock the boat while the bodies slip under. Forget them, both of them, while you break the surface. While you breathe this rotten air and thirst for an answer. Don't make waves if they're just going to pull you under, unless you wish to join all their bones at the bottom after all. Wait and pray for rescue, if you can't swim for shore.

Do what you do best. You're an angler. Cast your line.

And wait.

And wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait -

When will enough be enough?

He takes a deep breath, and brings his head above water with a hesitant smile, something twisted just shy from a pained grimace. Ah, he's missed quite a bit...People are already calling out names. Asking for explanations. Ah. Ah, he's out of his element. He wants to go fishing. He wants to fall asleep. He wishes his brother were here. He'd always been the smarter of the two.

"Urgh.."

At first, he's not too sure how to breach the conversation, and he's left sheepishly scratching at his cheek, eyes drifting towards the ceiling like it might hold some answer. "Um. I'm not too sure on...On anything that's been going on, or that's been said. I just. I'm not so good at stuff like these. I don't got any answers or many theories...And I can't keep up too well, so...I'm sorry if I." He swallows nervously, tugging the collar of his pajamas. "'M sorry if I derail anything here..." He is not the brightest anglerfish in the sea, y'all...

"I just. Wanna go to bed and...Wake up to see everyone all okay again..."

Ah, but that's not a possibility, huh? Huh...His expression falls, crumpling into one of despondent anguish. Ah, but he can't cry. Such a waste of water. You don't want to get dehydrated...That's dangerous...

"Erm...Uh. But...This has been on my mind....The. The finger food, yeah? The snacks? Mm...Why're they there? And why are they important? Was...Someone preparing something? If this was, like...A trap, was that maybe the bait? You know, perhaps as...?" Awkwardly, he pantomimes baiting a hook. "That? Or...Was it something different?"

Leave it to the fisherman, I guess, to automatically default to such an analogy.

#submission #ch1 #trial #liem

[blujayonthewing]

tonight’s Wilderness Skills Mood: being mad that I don’t fuckin know how to fish

#here's why it makes me mad: I learned how to fish when I was 4 #used to go fishing with my best friend as a little kid #and with my ex #AND YET. ALL I know is how to bait a hook and cast a line and what a perch is #do I know WHERE to cast a line? do I know how deep to set my hook/ bobber? do I know ANYTHING about NON bobber-based fishing?? no! #what the FUCK is a TROUT!! #this is why I never catch anything when I try to go fishing by myself #I know the physical skills of bobber fishing but none of the practical understanding of how to do it successfully #SO MANY PEOPLE HAVE HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO TEACH ME! BUT THEY DIDN'T AND I'M MAD!!! #and now I don't think anyone in my life fishes :'D so I'm s.o.l #*googles 'panfishing for dummies' * #about me

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 6

Hannibal sits in on a regular conversation between y/n and her family. Y/n insists it could have gone worse.

⚠️Bigass trigger warning⚠️: Verbal abuse, emotional manipulation, blood, mention of alcohol abuse and suicide

Anna lived her life believing that she was the main character, constantly denying personhood to everyone around her. She was the romantic hero, and everyone else existed to forward her plot.

This metaphor was imperfect, however, because in all the books you'd read, the main character must overcome some kind of challenge. Nobody ever said no to Anna. Nobody ever criticized Anna. Nobody but you. So you were pigeonholed into the role of antagonist for it. You had to give her credit; growing up on the receiving end of her and Theresa's torture was a compelling villain origin story.

It was obvious that she only wanted you at her wedding to present her with an obstacle. Heaven forbid her story progress without some semblance of petty drama out of her control. She'd cornered you into a painful catch-22; you wanted vengeance, but you couldn't give her the satisfaction of having her special day ruined. What was your play? Ruin it just a little? Walk away?

These thoughts passed through your mind as you sat through the boring ceremony. You wanted to lean over and whisper everything to Hannibal, but he seemed lost in his own thoughts. The vows seemed to drag on forever. Liam's English accent grated on your ears and you wished that he would just shut the hell up.

The ceremony concluded and you hoped to skip out on the reception with a purse full of mini cannolis, but fate had other plans. In a last-minute reach for some kind of scene, the blushing bride waved you over to the head table.

"[F/N]!" Anna shouted, with a big smile across her face. "Come on!"

You fought the urge to feel endeared by this. She looked too happy to be harmful. Your guard was all the way up as you and Hannibal approached the table.

Hannibal pulled a seat out for you while you studied Anna's expression. She fixed her doe eyes on Hannibal. You knew from experience that Anna had the same powerlust as grandma and Theresa. She was just better at keeping a lid on it.

"[F/N], you remember Liam?" Anna said, her voice brimming with excitement.

"Yeah." You nodded, scooting your chair up. "Nice to see you again, Liam."

"Good to see you again, too [F/N]."

"Liam is from Birmingham." She bragged, her smile somehow growing wider.

"Alabama?" You piped up before taking a drink from your water glass.

Every time you were forced to interact with Liam, she reminded you that the man with the strong and unmistakable English accent, was in fact from England. And every time, you slipped in the Alabama comment. It was never not funny.

"Liam, Anna," you said. "This is my fiance, Dr. Hannibal Lecter."

"Many congratulations to you two." Hannibal offered.

"Dr. Lecter, thank you so much for coming." Anna returned. "And thank you for taking such good care of our precious [F/N]. I hope she's not giving you too much trouble. She was quite a handful growing up, but we made it work."

"Don't flatter yourself, you're only four years older than me." You hide your passive-aggressive jab beneath a smile. "You can't take credit for a job you didn't do."

Grandma always thought Anna's protective, borderline maternal behavior towards you was adorable. Of course, it disgusted you. You were little more than an accessory to her. A baby doll she could simulate motherhood with. But, in fairness to her, that was all you were to the adult in the house too. Monkey see, monkey do.

"So have you two set a date yet?" Grandma interrupted your thoughts, just trying to keep the tension down.

"Goodness, no." Hannibal answered. "Ours is a long-term engagement."

"Yeah." You added. "Not until I finish school."

"Well, it's not my fault you aren't expected to graduate on time." Grandma said into her wine.

You tightened your grip on your water glass. "Well, changing your major halfway through will do that."

"I'm just saying," Grandma continued. Whenever she was 'just saying' anything, you knew she was raring to stir things up. "If you had just stayed the engineering track, you wouldn't have to keep Hannibal waiting."

"Well!" Anna cut in, offended that the attention was off her for more than a minute. "Liam and I waited until after college."

"Yes, Anna," Grandma said dismissively, before turning back to you. "Y'know, Dr. Lecter here could probably tell you that psychologically speaking, women are more likely to drop out of college and become strippers when they change their majors?"

Now it was Hannibal's turn to down his entire glass of wine. "Ms. [L/N], where did you get that information?"

"Oh, it was an article I found on Facebook." Grandma answered. "I'll have [F/N] send you a link."

"Ms. [L/N]," Hannibal cleared his throat. "Are you familiar with the concept of misinformation?"

"Of course." She looked offended at the implication that she could possibly not know something.

"See, social media websites like Facebook are inundated with misinformation campaigns." Hannibal explained. "Your claim is not rooted in any psychological fact."

"Yeah, also," You cut in. You scanned the area for escape routes if your attempt to change the subject went awry. "There's a wonderful documentary about how Facebook misinformation campaigns targeted rural counties in England leading up to the Brexit vote."

"Oh, we have a funny story about Brexit." Anna interrupted, taking the bait, hook line and sinker.

Before she could recount the same boring anecdote about being at some regional chain restaurant when the vote was cast, Theresa and her husband joined the table.

"Sorry we're late," Theresa sat down. "Damage control is a twenty-four hour job. What were we talking about?"

"Misinformation." Liam said.

"Perfect timing." You muttered.

"Finally, all three of my girls are together again." Grandma threw her head back and rejoiced. "When was the last time we all got together? Just us four girls, huh?"

"Remember the day before prom, we all went out go get manicures?" Anna reminisced. "And we took pictures of us all dressed up?"

"Oh I remember." You scanned the area for any alcohol to ingest.

"Oh, this is so funny." Grandma laughed hysterically. "Dr. Lecter, did you hear this story? [F/N] went to the prom with a boy who had all along been using her to get close to Theresa! They got together that night! Dated for two whole years after that."

"I've heard an iteration of it." He said, looking over his shoulder. He flagged down a waiter who was holding a bottle of champagne. "Leave the bottle, please."

"Don't drink too much, [F/N]." Anna scolded. "Save some alcohol for the rest of us."

You made sure to maintain eye contact with her as you filled your flute to capacity. "Grandma's paying, isn't she?"

"Anna, baby," Grandma said, rubbing her temples. "It's fine. Let [F/N] drink herself silly. It's a party, right?"

"Wow," Theresa sneered. You knew exactly what she was going to say next. "Like mother, like daughter."

Everyone at the table had enough decorum to recognize that Theresa went too far. You crushed the champagne flute in your grip, letting shards of glass dig into your skin. You glared at Theresa, blood oozing from your palm and dripping onto the white tablecloth.

Wordlessly, Hannibal removed the offending glass from your hand and swaddled the affected area in a napkin. He put pressure on the cut, letting the blood absorb into the cloth.

"Is this the famed '[L/N] woman telepathy'?" Liam whispered to Anna.

"No, [F/N] is just mad because her mother was a drunk who killed herself." Anna thought she was being inconspicuous.

"This has been fun." You stand up from the table. "Really. Great way to spend a Saturday."

"[F/N], sit down..." Grandma ordered, sounding exhausted. "You know Theresa didn't mean that."

"No." You said, each syllable out of her mouth pushing you a step closer to your breaking point. "Y'know what? No. I don't have to put up with this anymore. Anna, congratulations. I hope you and Liam have many long years together."

You turned around to exit as quietly as you could, Hannibal at your side. Your grandmother, who somehow hadn't hit her daily allotted dose of confrontation, wouldn't have it.

"Dr. Lecter, tell [F/N] she's being unreasonable." Grandma pleaded.

Hannibal raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. In his long-spanning career, he'd never once met a person as tone-deaf as Beatrice [L/N]. He kept his quiet composure as he slowly approached the table.

"Beatrice," he said, beckoning her to lean in. He whispered something into her ear that left her stunned and quaking.

You could hear your grandmother's hysterical sobs growing softer as Hannibal hurried you out.

"Keep pressure on that cut, love." He instructed, talking over the increasingly loud shouts of agony from the head table. "You'll need a few stitches."

Once you were far enough from the venue, you had to ask. "What on earth did you say to her?"

"Nothing that you don't already know." He answered, facing forward.

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #hannibal x you #tw blood #tw emotional manipulation #cult girl

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

JJ Maybank x reader

Requested by anon // Summary: You’re a kook but only associate with Sarah Cameron. After she gets involved with John B, you’re introduced to the rest of the pogues and catch JJ’s eye with how shy and different you are from the other kooks.

A/N: I may have gone a little crazy with this one. I hope you guys like this! I actually think this one is pretty cute :) 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: OPEN {CLOSED}

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

“Sarah, I’m not sure.”

“Please? I want you to meet everyone!” She plops on the bed next to you.

“You know I don’t like meeting new people and I’m shy!”

“Yeah, but I’ll be there. It’s just a nice day on the boat to meet everyone since I’m with John B now.”

You sigh and then groan, “Fine, but I’m bringing a book to read.”

~

“Sarah, I’m still not sure about this.” You say as she pulls up, beginning to freak out. You and her had grew up together and now that she was with John B she wanted you to meet him and the rest of the pogues. However, you were not a fan of making friends with new people. Crowds and new people were not your cup of tea. You’d much rather be left alone in your own little world with a book. Of course, Sarah was the complete opposite and loved attention, which is why you have no idea how you became friends with her.

“You’ll be fine! They’ll love you, y/n. I promise.” She reassures, smiling. “They’re excited to meet you.”

“I’m sure they are.” You mumble, following her and slip your glasses on. You could see the pogues at the dock near the boat.

“Hey guys!” Sarah announces as the two of you make your way down the dock.

“Hey.” They greet. Sarah gives John B a kiss before turning to you, “This is y/n, y/n this is John B, Kie, Pope and the blonde is JJ.” She points to each one.

“Hey.” You gave a small wave as they repeat hey back. 

“nice to meet you, y/n.” John B says, “Sarah’s told us a lot about you.”

“Oh great.” You laugh a little.

“All good things I promise!” Sarah laughs.

~

After everyone is settled on the boat, John B finds a nice place for the boys to fish. You grab your book out of your bag and get comfortable.

JJ fixes the bait on the hook and glances over at you. He wasn’t too happy about adding another kook to the group. Sarah was enough of a kook, but he realized right away, you weren’t like her at all. Quite the opposite. He watched as John B started to hand you a beer, but you shook your head, “I don’t drink.. Thank you though.”

You, a kook, don’t drink? He thought all kooks were alcoholics. You were still in your coverup, even after the girls had took theirs off as soon as they got on the boat. You didn’t say much the rest of the day, unless you were spoken too. You were quiet and shy, nothing like the kooks he knew.

“Whatcha reading?” JJ asked as he sat next to you.

You marked your place, before glancing over at JJ, blushing. He was handsome and shirtless; his hair wet from taking a dip, “The Great Gatsby.”

He nods, “Is it.. good?”

“Yeah. One of my favorites.” An awkward silence fell amongst the two of you. “So, do you read?” You surprised yourself by asking. You weren’t one to make conversation.

He chuckles, shaking his head, “No. Never been a reader.. more of partier.” He glances at the front of the boat and then back at you, “Want to fish?”

“Oh no. I don’t.. I don’t know how.” You blush.

You were too cute, he thought to himself. “Come on, I’ll teach you.” He takes the book from your hands and puts it in your bag before standing and holding his hand to you.

“No no, it’s okay.” You say, shaking your head.

“Y/n, I won’t bite.” He smirks, “Only if you want me too.”

You blush again before taking his hand and standing. He leads you to the front of the boat and begins showing you how to bait your hook and cast the line.

He steps behind you, his hands over yours on the fishing pole, “Just pull back..” He moves his body with yours, showing you what to do “And cast the line.”

You can feel his hot breath on your neck and in all honesty, it was the closest you’d been to a boy. You glanced over your shoulder at him.

His hands had yet to move from yours, “And then if you feel a tug, reel him in,”

You give a small nod and he steps away from you, stepping next to you, “You really have never fished before?”

You shake your head, looking over at him, “Never.”

He smirks, “Well, you’re a natural.”

“Thank you.” You mumble quietly.

He tilts his head at you, intrigued, “You’re shy, you read, and you don’t drink.. unlike any other kook I’ve ever known. You’re sure you’re not a robot?”

You laugh and give a small shrug, “I’m fully of surprises I guess.”

He chuckles and watches as the pole dips a little, “Looks like you got a bite. Reel him in!” He’s back behind you in seconds, ready to help.

You struggle reeling in the fish and notice is pop out of the water, “I caught one!”

He grabs the net and pulls it out, “You did it! Look at you, you’re a pro.” He pulls the fish off the hook and holds it between his thumb and index finger, “He’s a big one.”

You smile as you watch him, “I can’t believe I caught one.”

He glances up at you, “You want to hold him? I can get a picture.”

You quickly shook your head, “Oh gosh, no.”

“come on.” He holds the fish over to you, “He won’t bite.”

Sarah snaps pictures of the two of you, looking at John B, “They’ll thank me for these when they get married.” She looks back at the two of you, “JJ! y/n! Smile!”

JJ looks at Sarah before stepping to you and wrapping his free arm around your shoulder, smiling at the camera.

You can’t help but blush again, smiling at her, “So.. what do we do now?” You ask, motioning to the fish.

“Well, we can let him go, or I can put him in the cooler and we can cook him later.”

You frown, shaking your head, “Let him go.”  

He chuckles, “I knew you’d say let him go.” He reaches over the boat and lets him go, “Now he’s free to live the rest of his life.”

“Let’s do it again.” You smile, grabbing the fishing pole and holding it to him.

He smiles back, taking the fishing pole and baiting it for you. He liked you. He was starting to see you come out of your shell and liked he wasn’t right about you being another spoiled kook. You weren’t like them and he liked that about you.

All my works tag list:  @blossomreed​

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#jj maybank imagine #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj obx #jj maybank obx #jj maybank x #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #x reader #x you #x y/n #jj maybank x female!reader #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks fanfic #outer banks imagine #outer banks #outer banks netflix #outer banks imagines #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #obx #obx imagine #obx imagines #obx fanfic #obx fanfiction #obx fic

[leobashi]

I hate this narrative that I’m the unlucky one in my family :,,,D

In a pond full of fish that bite in literal seconds after the bait falls in, I still manage to only catch like three and lose 15 worms. Everyone else here has caught way more than me!!

But am I gonna self project this onto Chase because I think it would be funny? Yes. Yes I am.

He tries to show off to his brothers because he’s totally the type of dad who takes his kids camping and fishing. He gets them all their own pole and gets some live bait. He’s the only one that can hook the bait besides Anti because it’s kinda disgusting trying to grab a worm and pierce it. And then as the others are trying to throw their line out farther, he comes up and is all confident like “here’s how you do it boys,” and then he makes the most rookie mistake. His line gets stuck in a tree. They’re all laughing at him as he pulls and tries to get his line back. The branch ends up falling onto him. He tries to untangle it, but he has to cut his line and he puts on a new hook even though he hasn’t even thrown anything into the water yet. Then, just as he finally casts his own line, he has to put his pole down because Henrik just caught a fish but he’s not about to grab it with his bare hands to take the hook off of it. Then as he throws Henrik’s first fish into the bucket that they brought, Jamie’s line starts shaking. He’s caught a fish too and he pulls it in, but now Jamie’s using his rod and Chase has to spend the next ten minutes trying to dig the hook out of the fish because the fish swallowed the hook with the bait. And as he’s just about to cast again, Marvin calls him over to help him get another hook because his line got caught on some rocks or something he couldn’t pull it in. When he asked Jackie to help him get it unstuck, the line snapped and they lost the hook.

They continue fishing, celebrating each fish caught until Anti starts to get angrier and angrier as he keeps losing bait after bait. Then he finally lose it and throws his pole in before jumping in himself to catch a fish with his bare hands. “FUCK YOU STUPID FISH IF YOU’RE JUST GONNA STEAL MY BAIT I’LL COME IN THERE MYSELF TO CATCH YOU!!” And he pulls out his knife and starts swiping at the water and stabbing downwards. Chase cries out. “My fishing pole!!” The rest of them are laughing at Anti and saying that it’s not gonna work as he dives. It’s a few seconds and the laughter dies down. “Uhhh Anti?” It’s another few seconds before they see bubbles. “Do we need to dive in there to save him?” “I volunteer Jackie. He’s the hero.” “Hey!” “My fishing pole is drifting away...” Then Anti resurfaces with a fish in his mouth and blood running down his chin and looking absolutely feral. “AGRROPFFEECC!!” “WOAH ANTI WTF” He rips the fish out of his mouth and holds it up like a trophy before screaming again. “I GOT A FISH!!” “GLITCH WE KNOW THAT BUT WTF?!?”

Anti wades around trying to catch more fish. Jackie tries to help him spot more fish. Jamie and Marvin are neck in neck in their own fish catching competition. Henrik sprays way too much bug spray everywhere. Chase throws his line back out again for another try and watches them. He smiles because it reminds him so much about when he went fishing with his kids. It’s a little bittersweet, but when he pulls in another stick instead of a fish, he declares it a day, calling for the others to help him pack up

#fishing #thinkin #chase brody #leo rambles #henrik von schneeplestein #dr schneeplestein #marvin the magician #marvin the magnificent #jackieboyman #jameson jackson #antisepticeye

[icebreaker01]

SOME THOUGHTS HEADING INTO S3/E9

(My sincere apologizes if this reads a bit rough.  It was written in a very short amount of time.)

1.  I hate this show.

2.  I think we all can agree that the person in Headwoods lab is not Melanie. Why? Because from what we have seen so far from the promos, Melanie is dressed in the same cloths she left the research station in.  Crazy Snowpiercer Frankenstein doctor appears to know enough that experimenting environments need to be sterile.  You do not accomplish that by having your subject in the same cloths for 7-8 months. And as a side note, I personally think the sane(?) one in that relationship is the one missing.

3. The party to ‘Welcome Back Old Friends’.  I am down to this being strictly a ’Hi there, Melanie.  Where the heck you been?’ party.  At one point I thought maybe it could have been for Boki, but I dropped that assumption for reasons I will get to in a minute (depending on how fast you read). Nor do I think it is a party to welcome back Icy Bob, much to my disappointment, because I liked the character.  But like so many others on this show, they killed him off before his storyline even got rolling.  Another waste of a great storyline by Snowpiercer‘s not-very-creative writing team. So my thoughts on Boki’s fate is that he is Headwoods’ new experimental Icy Bob.  Why?  Well, the most powerful reason I can come up with is he was listed as being in S3, we only have two episodes left, but he hasn’t shown up yet.

4.Josie dumping Layton. I am mostly ambivalent to this one.  I mean, ’Why?’.  Or even better, ’Why not?’. But as that this storyline involves two characters I have mostly lost interest in due to their completely stupid actions and poorly written storylines over this season, I really could hardly care less what happens to either one of them. But hey!  I will give the storyline one small polite golf applause as that if Josie dumps Layton, that does free our man Layton up for a fun little fling with his head engineer, and maybe we can finally get this ‘Laytonie’ train to finally clear the station. (One of Snowpiercer’s not-so-creative writers come up and taps Icebreaker on the shoulder.) “What?” “Melanie is with Bennett still.” “Prove it!” “Prove she isn’t.” (Icebreaker gives writer a dirty look.) “Thought so.” (Writer walks off.) I hate this show.

5.  Josie is the one who gets Melanie back on the train. Cute idea, but again, ’Why’? Did Josie literally forget what Melanie did to her and the fact that she is now hooking up with Bennett, which, if Melanie returns, will come to a screeching halt, if it hasn’t already.  I mean, hook ups are as plentiful in this story as ambiguously ended storylines.  You guys remember Miles?  Good, because apparently you and Josie are the only ones.

And I have 10 bucks that we never hear another word about Josie and Bennett.

And apparently Josie has morphed into the Mother Teresa of the train and she is just running around the train looking for people to forgive. Look, I get that they are trying to make Josie’s character a bit more.....I don’t know......’interesting’.  But that honestly seems to be a death knell in this series for a character.  Your character gets more air time.....and dies.

6.  Speaking of storylines that never went anywhere....let’s talk about Asha. Since back in S2, the not-so-creative writing team has baited us saying that Asha was going to be an ally for Melanie. Hey!  Not-so-creative writing team: ASHA NEVER EVEN MET HER!!! How is she going to be Melanie’s ally?  Haunt her? And can someone PLEASE, for the sake of good plot lines everywhere, explain to me why your promote for your show that you are bringing in a new character (the only one I have really seen this season with any sort of regularity), do a build up of this fact since S2, introduce said character as a moderately interesting additional to the cast, then proceed to under-use her to the point she is hardly even in the storyline, do a huge storyline reveal on her that barely gets three lines in the script (Asha admitting she killed the others at the power plant), and then BEFORE the season is over, kill her off in the most uninteresting way you could possibly think of. I hate this show.

7.  A kinder, gentler Wilford. It’s a great idea, folks.  I would personally love to see Layton, Melanie, and Wilford uniting against a common foe. (The three, upon encountering a new, unknown group.) Layton:  “Let’s send out a greeting and see how they respond.” Melanie:  “Let’s get the *^&$%(#@ out of here, then study them from a safe distance.” Wilford:  “Let’s kill them.” (Layton and Melanie stare at him.) WiIford:  “No?”

Personally, I think Wilford is still Wilford and this whole “Let’s go find Melanie!” business is just a rues while he is plotting out how to take the train back again.  I mean, Layton’s been in control for about a month.  Time to change conductors again.

8.  I hate this show.

9.  How the heck is Headwood doing what she’s doing?  Layton knows she is still experimenting in her lab.  I would have thought when he took control of the train, one of the first things he would have done was go down there and tear Headwoods’ experimenting car down to the wheels to see what Wilford had been up to over the last six months.  And even more so after he found out about Headwoods’ experimenting on his kid. And another side note, folks.  Does anyone really believe Wilford does not know what Headwood is up to in her lab? Really?

9.  I think Oz is eventually going to find something else being pickled in one of those jars soon.

I swear, at this point I am hanging by a thread with this show for S4.  S3 has been such an incredible depression trip, I am not sure I can handle another season of this show. Literally, tell me one good thing that has happened on this show this season that did not have a caveat attached to it.  Layton’s kid was born?  The  kid may be headed for some serious issues due to being experimented on.  We got a new, interesting character on the train?  Nope.  She’s dead.  Layton had a vision and now they are headed for a possible place they can get off the train?  Sorry.  That turned out to be an oxygen deprivation induced hallucination.  Miles is back?  We’ve seen him what?  One episode....for three minutes?  Layton is back in charge of the train?  I’m not even going to go there with you.

Past all that: We lost Strong Boy. We lost Anna Roche. We lost Pike. The train’s little psycho is still alive. We lost our semi-interesting new character. Wilford switched over to Team Snowpiercer. We lost a lot of good characters to a really pathetic plot line about a flu outbreak.  (Still missing my last Australians.) And Layton woke up from his coma.

Yes, Mr. WIlford, I think it is time we celebrate a win.

#Snowpiercer #snowpiercer tv #snowpiercer theories #Snowpiercer season 3 #More predictions and ideas #What the heck is going on with this show? #Lets hope S4 brings with it new characters and a few of them are part of the creative writing team