#Dinosaur sound replication

[fushipurro]

In the Shadows of Love

Chapter 6 - Vega

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☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, heavy angst, depression, suicidal ideation, implied/reference ED, mentions of blood (nosebleed), emotional hurt/comfort, insecure/intrusive thoughts

☆ Word Count: 7.8k

After your little “diner date” as Shoko and the gang started calling it, you found yourself hanging out with Toji more often than not, much to your surprise. You had your worries that the opposite would occur during said “date”, but it appears now to have brought you closer together.

Meals between the three of you ─ Megumi included of course ─ became a common occurrence, along with shared trips to the store. With winter settling in now, Toji stated he felt more comfortable with having you in his car instead of letting you carry bags home in the snow.

“Don’t need you freezin’ to death out here,” he’d say in an effort to convince you.

Other times, he would invite you over so Megumi could share some quality time with you to make up for all the times it’s just you and his dad. And who are you to deny the sweet boy?

Tonight is one of those nights.

The day began (early afternoon for you) with some games before dinner, enjoying said meal in front of the TV while watching a movie together. Megumi loves anything that features talking animals, so you thought it best to put on Kung Fu Panda, to which he fell in love. Hard.

He tired himself out trying to replicate all the moves, leading to Toji having to carry him off to his room to sleep. Turns out in this one-bedroom apartment, the two share the same king-sized bed. Toji had said before to you that because he’s out all night working, Megumi has the bed all to himself and vice versa during the day. He even took Megumi into consideration as far as bedroom décor went, stating his only preference is the happiness of his son, even if that means his sheets have dinosaur print all over them.

“Kid’s finally asleep,” Toji tells you upon his return, sinking back down into his spot on the couch with a thump. He laughs with a simpering expression, “Now we can watch something with a little more excitement for two adults.” His eyes fall on you from the side.

You jokingly gasp. “How can you say that movie wasn’t fun?” You place your hand over your heart to exaggerate the feeling of shock. “I’m telling you now, he’s going to be doing kung fu all week and have you in the Wuxi finger hold.”

“I can fight better,” he snorts, and you giggle. “I bet I could give any dragon warrior a run for their money.” Toji raises the sleeve of his ivory-colored sweater upwards. The veins and muscles bulge as he flexes with that same annoying grin stretched across his face looking for your approval.

“Okay, Tai Lung,” you tease, your voice coy sounding. “Whatever you say.” Your eyes roll away from him and back to the TV.

Toji laughs, snagging the remote before you can even think about it. “Just for that, I’m picking the next one,” he declares.

He pans through the options, debating what might be a good choice. He has a few ideas, but his primary goal like always is to get a reaction out of you. So, when he lands on a classic you know and love, he wastes no time putting it on.

Bride of Chucky.

“Perfect.” The words roll out like a purr. Or maybe a warning growl? Either way, he puts the remote down, leaning back against the couch and draping his arm over the back.

The movie picks up right away with an introduction to the main characters as you remember quite well. Rob Zombie’s “Living Dead Girl” playing while the one and only Tiffany Valentine makes off after the first kill of the movie.

Toji had thought the combination of blood and murderous dolls would have you leaning into him for protection, but to his surprise ─ and disappointment ─ you don’t. The most he gets out of you so far is a recoil during the first murder committed by Chucky himself.

“That’s what gets a reaction out of you?” His question comes out with a pout he doesn’t even hide.

You laugh through your nose, “Hey, the stabbings are one thing, but piercings getting ripped out?” You shudder. “No thank you.”

“Not even a little afraid of some creepy ass doll running around, killing people with a knife…” He goes silent for a minute as the bathtub scene occurs. “Or…a TV?”

“If we’re talking about Slappy from Goosebumps, then yeah,” you huff. “That guy was nightmare fuel for me, but Chucky I can enjoy.” You reach out for some popcorn, ever so quietly humming to “Call Me” by Blondie as it plays.

Toji takes his own handful before speaking, “You’re one odd girl, I’ll give you that.”

It’s funny the things that can affect you. Meeting new people turns you into a stuttering mess, yet you watch horror movies without a care in the world. As if the blood and guts doesn’t do anything to you unlike the words or actions of others do.

To others, you’re that of an iceberg. The image of you that others see is only a mere glimpse with the rest hiding below the surface. All it takes to reveal that side of you is time to warm up, something Toji is finally starting to see as you grow comfortable with him in your presence. No alcohol needed.

Throughout the rest of the movie, even if you weren’t clinging to him in order to shield your eyes, he still had his ways of keeping the distance close. There’s the brushing of fingers reaching for popcorn that seemed like more than accidents or the arm he has resting behind you this entire time for you to lean your head against.

It's like the awkward theater date you never had as a teen, except you’re the only one feeling awkward about it now. But at the same time, it’s endearing because you’re going through this milestone event in your life.

Except… you still aren’t aware if he’s single or not.

All signs point to yes since you’ve never once heard of another woman, or Megumi even talking about a mother. But she could just not live here, or they’re going through something, or she’s working abroad. The fact is, until you mount the courage to ask, or he tells you, you don’t know.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t hoping he’s single. You’re enjoying this too much to think about this crush of yours falling apart.

Toji is sweet as could be and he makes you laugh every time you’re together. He continues to treat you and while you can’t return the favor financially, you’ve been trying with the little things like bringing baked goods over with the excuse that you made too many to cover up your nerves.

It's all you could ever hope to have with a friend or even a significant other, even if all it must be is platonic. It’s something you haven’t had in a long time, and one thing you don’t want to ruin by desiring more.

The movie ends and Toji stands up to stretch, collecting the leftover dishes to clean. You take a few, following him into the kitchen area.

“I would say let’s watch another, but I can’t be late for work tonight,” he groans, and you swear you can hear him pouting even with his back facing you.

“There’s always another night,” you reassure.

“I think we should just start the kid now with the good stuff.” His head turns in your direction flashing a mischeavous grin. “What do you think about watching Alien next time?”

“And scar him for the rest of his life over the spaghetti scene?” you reply with a sarcastic tone. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Hey, I saw much worse at an earlier age and look how I turned out.” He raises both his hands and shrugs all nice and proud.

“And it’s a miracle you’re sane.” He rolls his eyes with a laugh. “I vote that we watch Finding Nemo next time. I’m sure he’d love that one especially with how similar one of the characters is to you.”

He looks to you dumbfounded. “In what way could I possibly resemble a fish?” he says with disbelief lacing his words.

You giggle, “Personality for one; Gill is tough, smart, and cares a lot almost like a dad.” You extend your hand, gesturing to the man. “And two, you share similar features, like the color black, how you glare at others, scowl, even having a facial scar.”

You bite your tongue, eyes widening at what you just said. Another piece of info Toji hasn’t told you about yet is how he even got the scar on his lip. You know more than anyone that it may not be the easiest thing to talk about, mainly if there’s trauma tied to it versus something mundane like getting cut by a sticker bush.

It doesn’t help that he’s facing away from you so you’re unable to read his current expression. “I’m sorry, I–“

“You think I’m all that, huh?” He interrupts with a huff, appearing unbothered. “Bet I’m tougher than any fish in the sea,” he tells you again, with another flex of both his arms this time around.

You sigh in relief, “What about an orca?” you ask, and he flashes you a toothy smile.

“Now that’s a better comparison for someone like me over some stinkin’ fish.”

You both laugh and continue to chat for a little while longer. While Toji is cleaning the dishware, you’re occupying yourself with Megumi’s toys, helping to tidy up. When all is said and done, he walks you out, hanging back in the threshold of his home and the hallway.

“I’ll see you later then, hope you have an easy time at work.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. Try not to have any nightmares later.” He winks, and you laugh.

“If I do, then I know who to blame,” you scoff. “Goodnight, Toji.”

“Sleep tight, and don’t let the cursed dolls bite.” You roll your eyes, calmy walking into your home. Once inside, you’re anything but calm. You practically skip your way over to your couch, throwing yourself onto the cushions to pet Tsumiki.

Sweetheart.

He calls you that from time to time, and the butterflies you feel are something else. It takes a few breaths to relax from such giddy feelings. It’s been far too long since you had someone like Toji in your life, and you crave this kind of attention. This closeness. For the first time in what’s most likely been years, you feel as though nothing could possibly go wrong.

You eventually pick up your phone that you haven’t bothered to look at in the hours spent next-door, and there were several notifications to greet you.

The first dozen were some cheers from work, namely from Kento regarding the publication of the magazine you modeled for.

The second bunch were the obligatory Instagram mentions, the most important being the one from Satoru’s post alongside a series of his choice photos from that day with you.

That’s when you remember things can and will go wrong, as the third set are all various notifications of strangers blowing up your account. The majority falls under Satoru’s post, a bunch of his followers spitting venom your way to target you.

Who’s this nobody he’s with?

Can she get any closer to him? I bet she’s just using him for clout

Must’ve been torture for him :( she’s not even that pretty lmao

Would look so much better with only Satoru.

You want to look away, you really do. You’d love nothing more than to shut your phone off and throw it at the wall, but you can’t bring yourself to do it.

It’s nothing new for you to be hated on like this. The sad reality is that it’s to be expected, no thanks to the anonymity of the internet. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

They’re jealous.

You know that.

Just obsessed fans taking out their anger on you because they wish it was them at his side.

You know that too, but it doesn’t stop the dark cloud that hangs over you wherever you go.

Why don’t you just stay in your lane? Be a flower on the wall?

You should’ve turned the project down, given it to someone else. You don’t deserve the recognition it brings.

This is your fault, you know. You should’ve listened to your parents when they said you weren’t going to succeed in life.

You sit up properly on the couch, tucking your knees to your chest. For a while, all you can bring yourself to do is stare blankly at the screen, watching all the new messages come through every passing minute. It’s a given, considering Satoru’s astonishingly high following. It isn’t until your phone shuts down from a low battery that you throw it aside and fall to your side, letting the tears come cascading down.

You wake up later, still lying on your side with a damp feeling against your face. The light that comes through your apartment is soft, no doubt earlier in the day compared to when you normally choose to wake up. Begrudgingly, you push yourself off the couch, listening to every creak your bones make like dated wood.

The first thing you do is plug your phone in to charge, followed by feeding Tsumiki her breakfast. You ponder whether you want anything, but even if your stomach was growling, you don’t feel all that deserving to eat. Not only does your depression take away your appetite at times, but it also puts a strain on the relationship you have with food and other things pertaining to your day-to-day life.

A shower helps. At least there you can attempt to drown out your thoughts with the water that rains down. Even when physically after you’re clean and smell nice, you still don’t feel all that great. Against your better judgement, you go to see how things were looking today on your phone.

The answer?

Worse.

More of the same shit fills your feed, but with the added bonus now of threats and other hate in your DMs, and all over your own posts that had nothing to do with the magazine. All are a courtesy from the people with nothing better to do than wish harm upon you for breathing the same air as their celebrity crush.

Speaking of, there’s a new message from him.

Satoru Gojoheyyy so sugu, sho, and I are going out to star plasma later to celebrate, you wanna meet up???

You Sorry, I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on :( hope you guys have fun though!

Satoru Gojo boooo :( well if you change your mind, we’ll be there <3

You wonder if he’s seen the same hate you have, or maybe he’s just that good at ignoring it for his own sanity. That, or maybe he just doesn’t care what they’re saying. Not everyone is like you.

Oh, how you wish you could be like that. You also wish you didn’t feel the need to lie to him about having work. The thought of the gang seeing you in this state fills you with disgust, not to mention if Toji’s working tonight.

You place your phone back down on your nightstand, eyes drifting across to your bed. Most of the time, it’s the only place you want to be in, all wrapped up nice and tight under lays of blankets.

Other times it feels like a prison.

All the fabric acting like chains, keeping you bound to your mattress with no hope to escape. It’s during these times that everything outside the walls of your apartment frighten you to no end. And like always, you give in to the call of your damnation.

Sinking down into the cold sheets, you stare now up at the blank, white ceiling. The various scuffs and spots act like sheep for you to count as you make a mental note to clean them later. That will have to wait for a day you feel capable. A day you feel better if that day ever comes before it’s too late.

Why does it seem so easy for others to ignore all the drama of life and intrusive thoughts? They make it sound so easy, that being a normal, functional being is easy but here you are, wallowing in your own misery. You long to feel happy in life rather than the sorrow you feel now.

But will that ever happen?

A few unremarkable days have gone by since then, and you still bear no signs of feeling better.

You’ve stopped crying now, but the emptiness took over. Somehow you manage to get out of bed, only to mindlessly complete your work and anything else you have to do. Tsumiki’s been hanging close-by, as if she senses how distraught you are. Her meows and cuddles are the only thing bringing a ghost of a smile to your face as you shut out the rest of the world.

Food has been minimal, most of it not even having a taste when it hits your tongue. Your appetite is lacking either for anything more than a few bites. All in all, you’re just passing time until you can fall asleep, letting time go by that you later hate yourself for missing.

Depression is an awful cycle.

Today you decided you needed to head to the store. You tell yourself it’s to get Tsumiki more food or toys for putting up with you, but the truth is that your fridge is looking scarce. Your meals have mainly consisted of whatever is easy to make, jokingly referring to it as “girl dinners” to try and make yourself laugh.

You don’t put much thought into your outfit, choosing to wear something easy to keep you warm in this December month. Sometimes it’s nice to try and look pretty to help your confidence and all, but right now you’d rather hide under bulky fabrics. There doesn’t feel like much of a point to care, either way. What does it matter?

It's a quick trip in the end, only coming back with a few bags. You keep your eyes low to the ground, counting the concrete tiles to keep your mind at bay. It works, up until you notice your neighbor hunched over an idled car out front of your building.

Something’s off, you notice, and it makes the hairs stand straight up on your neck.

Never once have you seen Toji express an emotion like the one you’re seeing ─ the death stare he’s giving whoever is sitting in the car. For someone so typically calm, this apparent anger is so much scarier than any cursed doll could hope to achieve.

Who is he talking to?

You want to know, but at the same time you don’t if they’re upsetting Toji this much. Your breathing stills as you walk by, hoping to slip into the front door without being noticed. You make it as far as a few steps up before you’re stopped short from a voice.

“Hey.”

Your body tenses up. You’ve been avoiding contact with anyone outside of work for a few days, and you especially don’t want to be near whatever was going on outside just moments ago. He doesn’t need to be burdened by you.

“Hey, Toji.” You turn your head slowly to the man, weakly smiling.

He makes a few steps up to where you are, a silent urge to continue heading up to your floor together. The fire you previously saw raging in his eyes no longer appears present, instead replaced with his normal scowl.

“I saw your friends the other night at the bar, was hoping you’d be with ‘em.”

You exhale quietly, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, I– wasn’t feeling it that day,” you mutter.

Toji’s eyes narrow with furrowed brows to match but he continues with your pace.

“I’ve got some time before my shift if you wanted to watch that fish movie or somethin’ else,” he asks. You bite your lip as you think of your response.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on.” You go silent for a moment, save for the tapping of shoes against the tiled floor. “Some other night?”

He raises his hand sheepishly to his neck. “Yeah, no problem,” he says with the hint of disappointment in his words.

Fuck, you don’t want to hurt him. Especially with another lie to someone close to you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, turning the key in your front door. “See you later.”

“See yo–“ The door shuts before Toji can even finish responding.

The guilt settles in like a knife to your heart. Enough so that you slide your back down the door to sit with your head between your knees.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” Disgust drips off your words.

Tsumiki comes right up to you purring away. For several minutes, you remain there on the ground petting her before finally getting up to put the groceries away. Shortly after, you return to your bed, indulging yourself with some good old blue-light exposure therapy. Tsumiki joins you, bringing in one of the new toys you bought for her.

Later, a soft knocking startles you from your sleep, not even realizing you had fallen asleep in the first place. The time on your phone shows that it’s after midnight, so who in their right mind needs you at this hour?

Cautiously, you approach the door, peering through to the peephole only to reveal…no one?

Huh, wrong house?

You turn away from the door, only for there to be another knock, but still nothing through the peephole. You end up opening the door without even thinking, and now you realize why you couldn’t see anything.

“Megumi?” He stands there teary-eyed, clutching his frog plush tightly in his arms. “What’s wrong, did something happen?” you ask with a gentle voice.

“I had a bad dream.” He sniffles, his lip starting to quiver with oncoming sobs.

“Come here, ‘Gumi.” You take him into your arms, lifting him up, and closing the door behind you as you take him to the couch. With one hand, you rub soft shapes over his back as you sit him down with you. “There, there,” you coo.

Megumi holds on to you tightly like a baby koala. There’s a damp feeling sticking to your chest from the tears falling from his eyes. In this moment, you put aside whatever troubles you might have. He needs you right now.

You give him a minute to relax and calm down, waiting to ask, “Do you want to talk about it?” But he shakes his head in response. “That’s alright, you don’t have to,” you tell him softly, further adding, “I’m right here with you, you’re safe now.”

Toji must be at work for Megumi to have come knocking, so you pull up his number on your phone, texting to let him know about the situation.

“Hey, ‘Gumi? You want to try going back to sleep?” He whines into your shirt, doing everything he can with his tiny hands to stay fixed to you.

“Don’t leave me, please…” He sniffles, and your heart breaks. There are those words again, you think, remembering the time in the bathroom with him once before.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you reassure.

You give him some time to calm down, humming a familiar lullaby to whisk him away to sleep. He grumbles when you place him down into your bed, the spot still warm from your earlier rest, but he finds that he can’t fight his heavy eyelids. Between your song and the fingers running through his hair, he has no choice but to fall asleep once again.

“Ma..ma…” he murmurs, and you feel a tear fall from your eye.

Tsumiki joins you now, curling right up to Megumi’s side like the comforting angel she is. You send another message to Toji to let him know he’s still with you, to which he replies that he’ll be right over after his shift ends.

So much for avoiding contact with others, but it’s for Megumi’s sake right now.

It feels like déjà vu the next time you hear the knocking at your front door.

“Hey Toji,” you greet, parting the door for him to enter. He looks around with a confused look at first. He’s thrown off by the lack of lit candles, ambient light, or anything else. Instead, it’s just you, illuminated only by the moonlight peeking through the apartment.

“Did I wake you?” he asks, meeting your eyes. It’s a good thing it’s dark, so he hopefully can’t see the evidence of your tears.

“No, I haven’t slept yet,” you admit, and it only serves to puzzle him further. There’s a lot he wants to ask, but you’re already motioning towards your bedroom. He sighs, moving to catch up with you.

“He looks right at home,” Toji remarks, brushing Megumi’s hair back to better see his face. He gives Tsumiki some attention, careful not to disturb his son’s sleep in the process. Once Megumi is up into his arms, the two of you head back towards your door. He stops, turning to look you in the eyes again. “Thanks for watching him.” He doesn’t move from his spot, though his brows begin to furrow in thought. “About earlier…is everything okay? Did I do something to upset you?”

You feel your stomach dropping. The guilt you felt earlier comes crawling back up with razor-sharp claws. “Oh. No, no ─ I’m…sorry about that,” you stammer out, feeling your chest tighten. “You didn’t do anything, I promise.”

“What’s up then, you’ve been actin’ weir–“ Megumi interrupts with some slight stirring in his sleep from Toji’s raised voice.

“I’m okay, Toji. Really,” you try and convince, despite feeling the exact opposite. Another lie that stains your soul, but you remind yourself that it’s not his problem. You’re not his burden to bear.

You’re not sure if even bought it, especially after the noncommittal grunt he makes with eyes that stare intently, as if peering into your soul despite the darkness.

“Alright,” he says after a minute, his voice noticeably calmer, but still unsure. “If there is something, you can talk to me, okay?”

“I will, thanks.” You open the door to let him out. “Goodnight.”

His head dips to you before the door shuts completely. “Goodnight,” he replies, with your name punctuating.

For some reason it hurts to hear your actual name for once instead of a pet name.

With your apartment empty once again, it feels colder than ever. Lately you’ve been feeling that way a lot. It’s only when Toji is there that your house truly feels like a home.

You meander your way back into bed, curling up into a ball facing the window. You can’t shake the cold you’re feeling, no matter the number of blankets overtop your body. Even the dimly lit skies seem to relate with you.

When was the last time you could see the stars shining so beautifully?

There was a time you yourself felt like a bright star once, one that floated easily through the cold expanse of the universe without any issue. Unlike the other stars that met their fate, there was no spectacular supernova at the end of it all. No rainbow plumes of stardust to vividly show all of existence how good of a life you’ve lived.

It was more like a flip of a switch when it came to you. Shining one day like normal and the next, a bleak void of what you once were, absent of any light.

You roll away to face the wall opposite of your room, moving your hands to clasp either shoulder in a self-embrace.

I miss the warmth.

You wake up alone for once, with Tsumiki nowhere to be found from where you lay. It’s nothing you worry about quite yet, as you figure she’s out in the living room watching birds. You get up to investigate, but to your dismay, she isn’t out there either.

You don’t see her anywhere.

Strange, you think. Maybe she’ll come out for breakfast…?

You try that next. Heading to the kitchen to prepare her usual pampered meal, making noise as you call for her.

“Tsumi!” you croon, adding a pspsps after, but again, nothing.

There’s no way she could’ve gotten out of the house, so she must be around here somewhere. Your heart beats a mile a minute as you’re scouring in and around every piece of furniture you have looking for her. Eventually, you do find her, all tucked away inside your closet on a pile of your clothes.

“There you are!” you exhale in relief. “Do you know how worried I was?” you coo. You then move to pick her up and she doesn’t protest, but she also doesn’t start purring or mewling either.

You bring her out the kitchen, placing her down with her bowl. Your heart sinks again when she sniffs the dish and ultimately turns her nose up.

Tears weld up at the edge of your eyes. “Fuck, Tsumi’, don’t do this to me.” You start to pace, chewing anxiously on your lip as you watch her huddle up in another corner of your apartment. “What’s the matter, baby?”

Fuck, fuck, what do I do?

Searching the internet is your first idea, but the results are anything but helpful. Half the results are akin to that of WebMD (read: you’re already dead). By this point, you’re hysterical now, fixing to hyperventilate as the last bit of control you have slips away.

Of all the times for something like this to happen, it has to happen to Tsumiki. You’d give anything to swap places because you love her more than life itself. But when it rains, it pours, and right now it feels like a hurricane is hanging overhead.

She needs a vet, but you can’t possibly run with her across town. Waiting for a taxi will only prolong whatever she’s suffering from. Fuck, if only you could afford your own car, this wouldn’t be an issue!

But then you remember one thing.

Toji has a car.

Toji.

With no time to waste, you sprint out the door of your apartment, frantically knocking on his all while desperately hoping he’s even home to answer. Your prayers are answered when the door opens, revealing the man himself, half-asleep and shirtless.

“Toji, I-I-I–“ your voice cracks between sobs.

“Woah, woah, slow down,” he interrupts, placing his hands on both ends of your shoulders. He lowers his head to your level. Seeing you in distress snaps him awake. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Tsumiki ─ I-I don’t know, I think she’s sick!” you stammer out, “I need to get her to a vet but–“

“Go get her; I’ll get my keys.” His voice is calm as he tries to reassure you, bringing his thumb up your cheek, wiping away a tear with the rough padding of his thumb. “Breathe, okay?” You nod, but you’re still trembling.

Toji releases his hands from you, allowing you to run back inside to grab Tsumiki. You place her gently into her transport while at the same time, Toji enters your apartment, taking the crate from your unsteady hands.

The two of you exit the building as quickly as you can, letting Toji settle her into the backseat while you situate yourself right there at her side, cooing to ease your baby’s scared hollers. Toji wastes no time pulling out on the main road for the directions you gave him, putting on his seatbelt as he went.

From time to time, he looks back at you through the mirror, seeing you hunched over in tears over the crate. You’re trying to be calm for her, you really are, but it’s so hard.

You arrive in record time at the emergency clinic, Toji once again carrying the crate inside the building while you briskly make your way to the receptionist. You tell them your name, and everything else they need to know while they work on all the check-in procedures, eventually handing you a clipboard and pen to fill out with further information to fill out.

Toji guides you with a steady hand to the waiting area which includes several benches and tables to take advantage of. He places Tsumiki’s crate on a spot directly in front of you, pulling you down to sit instead of letting you pace the room. Both your legs and hands are shaking uncontrollably with fear, teardrops dotting the paper and ink as you try to write out what they need.

“Hey.” Toji cups your dominant hand with his own, bringing the movement to a standstill. “Breathe,” he calmly requests. “I know it’s tough, but you gotta try and relax for Tsumiki. You aren’t gonna be helpful to her if you suddenly drop over,” he tells you, and he’s right.

“I can’t let anything happen to her,” you mutter with a hoarse voice. You lean forward in your seat, moving your hands to the back of your head.

Toji slings his arm around your shoulder, pulling you against him. “I know.” His words are low, only for you to hear as he speaks into your ear.

“I don’t know what I’d do if something h-happened to her, she’s–“ A hiccup interrupts you. “she’s all I have left. Without her, I…I can’t.”

Toji takes the clipboard from you, putting it next to Tsumiki so he can fully embrace you with both arms. Your head is pulled against his chest and the fabric of his shirt helps to muffle your shattering heart.

“That’s not true,” he begins, his tone of voice calm, but equally stern, “You have me, Megs, those other three friends, even that boss of yours. You said it all yourself to me.” He pauses, bringing his hand up through your hair. His grip is tight yet offers indescribable comfort. The bottom of his jaw settles on the crown of your head. “You are not alone. Not anymore,” he promises.

If you could put a pin on when you start to fall in love in with someone, this would be one of those moments. Even if all he’s doing is reassuring you as any good friend would, it means the world to you and more. A moment in time you’ll never forget for as long as you live.

“Toji, I–“ You lift your head from his chest, taking one sniffle before you catch that metallic scent. You move fast to clutch your nose, but it’s too late. “Shit!” you hiss.

Toji leans back to see what happened. His eyes widen upon seeing the blood trickling down the palm of your hand, hitting his shirt in the process. Thankfully, there’s plenty of tissues given the environment, so he grabs a handful to hold under your nose.

“Fuck,” you cry out, “I’m so sorry, Toji.”

“Don’t be,” he huffs with some underlying amusement. “A bit of blood is nothing, I couldn’t care less.” You swap places with his hand holding the tissues. “Are you okay?” he asks, helping to clean the area around your hand.

“I’m sorry, Toji,” you mumble, lowering your head. “I’m such a mess right now, I don’t mean to burden you.”

“Don’t say that,” he replies, resting his palm on the apex of your head, teasing your hair in the process like he does to Megumi. “You have nothing to be sorry for, and you’re not a burden. Let your ‘knight in shining armor’ be here for you.” He winks.

His helpful teasing earns the hint of a smile on your face and a short-lived laugh, but it’s enough to begin to lighten the mood. At least until you hear a voice calling out your name.

You stand up, reaching out for Tsumiki’s carrier but then you hesitate. “Hey Toji?” He hums in acknowledgement. “Do you mind coming with me for this, please?”

He smiles. “Not at all, princess.”

When all is said and done, Toji drives you back home, walking you back up into your apartment. There, he places the carrier down gently, allowing Tsumiki to roam free.

“I feel, so stupid,” you sigh, kneeling down and hiding your face with your hands out of embarrassment. “All of that for a simple tummy ache.”

Toji chuckles, “Hey, it shows how much you love her. You can’t fault yourself there.”

You turn your head to look at him with a soft smile. “I’m sorry I took so much time out of your day.” Your mind flashes back to when he opened the door earlier in his sleeping form and you can feel the heat reawakening in your body. “I woke you up for it too,” you breathe out a laugh.

“What did I say about the apologies, princess?” He crouches down in front of you causing his denim jeans to bunch up. One of his knees bumps against yours given how close he is. “I’d like to know what else is bothering you though,” he suddenly inquires, and you feel the same guilt you felt the last time creep back up like bile in your throat.

Once again, you border on the crossroads of what to say. It’s a huge step to trust someone else enough to share your vulnerabilities ─ but if it’s Toji… maybe you can? You did it before and it worked out better than expected.

You remain quiet as you stand from your spot, moving towards the couch. While you’re busy pulling your phone out, he rises and makes his way over to your side.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he says, trying to meet your eyes. “But we’re friends. I want to help you if you’ll let me.”

It’s a lot coming from Toji.

You’ve learned over the course of knowing him that feelings don’t come easy. He does what he can, and what he feels is the best course of action. It’s a big reason as to why you struggle to pay him back for all his moments of kindness. You’ve come to realize that that’s how he best expresses himself, not only through teasing, but also through acts of service.

Being not only a bartender, but also more importantly a father, it’s forced him to open up more to others and to himself. To reflect on his own feelings and shortcomings so he can be better for Megumi. It’s not easy and he certainly doesn’t do all this effort for others, but for you, he will.

You pass him the device silently, pulling your knees to your chest. You let one knee rest against your cheek as you look his way, and at the same time you avoid eye contact. Toji’s expression softens, and there’s the slightest hint of red on his ears, but mainly there’s some confusion in his features.

“These are beautiful ─ you’re beautiful,” he tells you, looking back your way. “What’s the problem with ‘em?”

You want to smile. It’s hard not to let alone the blush trying to come alive. There’s just one issue.

“This,” you proclaim, scrolling down to expand the comment section with your finger. “This,” you repeat, “is the problem.” You wrap your arms around your legs, hugging them to you with an empty expression.

He looks back and his face immediately darkens into a scowl. “You know they’re just spewing shit out of their asses, right? Bunch of dumb fucks that don’t have anything better to do,” he grumbles, more curses following under his breath.

“They’re not all wrong though,” you let out a dry chuckle.

“No, uh uh.” He shakes his head, the words spilling out fast and like that of a growl, “Do not do that to yourself. Don’t think for a second this shit means anything.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it!” you exclaim, drawing out each word. Your fears have come alive as the dam breaks. The tears that fall from your eyes are hot and heavy, flooding down your cheeks. “Every single thing they say sticks with me, and I hear it all the time in my head!”

He moves to sit in front of you, placing one hand down on your knee. “You shouldn’t listen to anything on here,” he says more calmly this time, scrolling further down the post. “It’s all garbage, they’re garbage.”

“I wish I could, but I can’t,” you mumble, tightening your grip around yourself to the point your nails are digging into the fabric of your pants to reach your skin. “I hate it so much,” you drawl, “and I hate mys–“

“No.”

His tone makes you flinch, stopping you from continuing. The only noises shared between you two is that of the sobs you try and hold back to not make a sound. To not let another hear you sob.

“Look at me,” he almost whispers to you. “Please?” he insists when you don’t respond.

You eventually do, keeping half your face hidden beneath your forearms, but your eyes finally meet his own and you see the worry behind them.

“No matter what anyone says, you deserved to be on that magazine. Satoru didn’t make you the model you are, that was all you, do you understand?” He pauses, waiting for you to nod before he continues, “Listen to me when I tell you that you are beautiful. These assholes don’t mean shit, and even he agrees,” he finishes by handing you your phone back.

You’re puzzled until you see what Toji is referring to ─ a recent update on Satoru’s page where he expresses how disgusted he is by the comments. He goes on to bash the people spewing hate at someone he deems his friend and how you deserve none of it. The words bring more tears to your eyes, but not all of them are sourced from a well of sorrow this time around.

Toji goes on to say, “You should post your own pics too from that day. Be proud of yourself and the work you put in.”

You still can’t help but scoff, “Yeah, and give them more fuel? It’s bad enough they’re under all my other photos too.”

“So?” he scoffs back. “Fuck whatever they have to say. Remember what I told you.”

“Okay,” you sigh, wiping your tears. “I’ll do it.”

His lips upturn into a wolfish grin. “Good girl. Show ‘em who’s boss.” He pats your knee a few times before returning it to his side. “Now what do you say about ordering in some food? We can watch that fish thing too with Megs if you’re up for it.”

Your eyes widen, darting to the clock on your phone to see how late it is. “Oh my god, Megumi! I’m so sorry, is he–“

“Relax, he’s fine,” he states, appeasing your worries. “I had his sitter pick him up from school.”

“Oh, thank god,” you sigh again. “I was so caught up with my own shit, I completely forgot.”

“No harm done, so quit apologizing already,” he teases.

“I’m sorry ─ fuck, sorr–“ You clasp your hand over your mouth to shut yourself up. Toji gives you a blank stare with his mouth stretched in a fine line before your stomach breaks the silence with a loud growl. You hide yourself behind your legs from the humiliation, meanwhile Toji breaks out laughing.

Funny how the tables have turned.

“I’ll take that as a yes then.” He stands up, pulling his phone out from his back pocket. “Speaking of the kid though, his birthday is coming up.” His hand meets the back of his neck. “It’d mean a lot to him if you’re there for it, we’re havin’ a small party.”

“I’d love to,” you reply with a bright smile ─ the first and most genuine one you’ve made in several days.

“Thanks.” He returns your smile. “I’ll go get the kid then and order your favorite, so get comfortable while I’m gone.”

As he leaves, you go back to some of the latest posts on your profile. To your surprise, a lot of the hate and threats you saw were no longer there. Even the threats in your DMs disappeared or their accounts suspended. You have a feeling Kento has something to do with this, to which you’ll have to thank him later.

You pan through the official photos from the shoot, choosing all your favorites. With a shaky hand, you remember Toji’s words and hit the button to upload your post. Moments later, a new message comes through from your group chat.

Satoru Gojo oi oi, you’re posting again! are you okay??? we miss you :(

You I’m okay now, I’m sorry for worrying you guys.

Suguru Geto Don’t be, you have every right to want your own space. We’re just happy to hear from you again.

Shoko Ieiri next time though you should tell us so we can help you feel better 💕

Satoru Gojo yeah^^^ I was this 🤏 close to getting that double D DILF you like to drive us to your place so we could see you

You oh my god, don’t even start

Satoru Gojo hehehe I can see you blushing through the screen >:3 Shoko Ieiri no need to deny the obvious :)

Suguru Geto I’m with them on this. :)

You wipe the happy tears off your face just in time for Megumi to come running in. He throws himself into you for a nice big hug, with Toji following closely behind.

“Food’s on its way, you feelin’ better?”

“Yeah.” You nod in response. “And thank you, Toji. I’m glad we’re friends,” you tell him with a sincere sounding voice.

“Me too, sweetheart.” He plops down next to you, pulling Megumi into his lap to bounce on his knee. “Now let’s get this movie going then so we can watch Alien later.” He gives you a devious grin.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, funny joke.”

“We’ll see about that,” he teases.

Megumi ends up thoroughly enjoying Finding Nemo, reciting Dory’s iconic line “just keep swimming” over and over to the amusement of you both. Toji on the other hand tries his best to deny the Gill allegations, but it proves to be an impossible battle once Megumi began to point it out and back you up on the claim.

After dinner, Tsumiki ends up joining you three on the couch as well, feeling better than ever now that she has the laps of three people to choose from for love. But between all the laughing and combined joy, you can safely say that in this moment, you feel a whole lot warmer than you did before.

☆ Notes: I will self-indulge myself with movie and song titles that I know and love unapologetically. It’s my way of giving recommendations in a self-insert fic where I try and make the reader as inclusive as I can within the realm of what I’m trying to achieve. jennifer tilly is my celebrity crush <3

also I don’t know about you all, but when I get super stressed out and cry, my nose starts bleeding like hell which is why I wanted to add that scene in specific to add to the depth of the reader's anxieties

revising this chapter makes me realize how much dialogue is hard to do for me. I get so stuck on whether or not I believe a character would actually say what I’m making them say, but then I try to remind myself that there’s some wildly outlandish stuff I’ve seen in other fics that’s still enjoyable to read even their personalities are crazy OOC. Hope that isn’t too much the case here, as soft!toji is something I really try to focus on given all the shit he’s been through.

Here's a fun toji edit by the way >:)

#jjk #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen #toji zenin #toji x female reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #jjk au #toji x you #model!reader #megumi fushiguro #shoko ieiri #gojo satoru #geto suguru #nanami kento

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

5 8 and 12!!

5. What features would your Perfect Treehouse have (realistically or not)? Hmm, waterproof ceiling, and also it ought to be waterproof overall so there’s no mold. Maybe curtains. Something soft to sit on like a sofa or mattress, but I’m also not really sure if that could handle moisture and develop mold? I may be thinking about this too realistically TToTT If it can be as unrealistic as possible I want it to be waterproof all over and also perhaps keep out the gnats and mosquitoes! And also a minifridge would be epic.

8. What underrepresented creature do you most want a plushie of? Channeling my inner child here, marine reptiles! I desired nothing more than a plesiosaur plushie as a young girl, I even formulated plans of how, if I could ever obtain a long-necked dinosaur plushie, I would tape on paper to its limbs to make them look like flippers and therefore make the whole animal look like a plesiosaur. Pliosaurus was another one I craved very very deeply, but that one I did manage to replicate with a Tyrannosaurus rex toy by.. you guessed it, taping green paper to its limbs to make them look like flippers. This particular toy had a disproportionately large head and arms and nonexistent legs, so the illusion was quite sound! I think child me would’ve flipped if she ever saw an actual plushie of her favourite reptiles, I think we really really need aquatic reptile toys in the world to satiate the thirst of water-and-reptile fans such as myself.

12. What's your favorite type of seashell / beach forage? Besides cockles, I like collecting the sand itself! Some places have very unique sand, either by colour or grain size or shape.

#asks #tirragen

[salteytakesonmanga]

There are two types of people…

Finding an isolated and ancient land still populated by dinosaurs is a staple of classic pulp and sci-fi. Jules Verne was (among?) the first to use this plot in Journey to the Center of the Earth, but it was enormously popular in the first half of the 20th century too.

The setting Oda has created gives him a lot of freedom to play with genre and style so the story never gets stale. Little Garden draws a lot of inspiration from those early pulp adventure novels and movie serials without getting too bogged down in replicating it directly. Then again, viking giants locked in a never-ending duel on a prehistoric tropical island definitely sounds like something ripped from a dime novel.

#one piece #op ch115 #saltey takes on one piece #vivi #karoo #luffy #nefertari vivi #monkey d luffy #don

[raddocwrites]

SNW drabbles

Little is as little does

They transported into the middle of a very animated lunch. Captain pike had replicated dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese. Uhura half sat/half knelt on her chair and marched two of the dinos across her plate to attack the nuggets on Dr mbengas dish.

The doctor laughed then leaned over and whispered into the small girls ear. With a giggle she nodded and they both turned and led a small dinosaur army towards Lt ortegas plate. The pilot sat on uhuras other side and had been building an impassible moat out of the cheesy noodles. But alas, her nuggies did not stand a chance.

Chapel smiled and quickly charged forward. She plopped onto the empty chair next to spock. The captain was on the boys other side, trying to get him to eat. The small child sat with his arms crossed and stared at his plate as if personally offended by it.

“Spock,” nurse chapel said with a smile. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“Because,” spock said.

Chapel waited. “Because why?”

“I don’t like it,” came the small reply.

Chapel raised an eyebrow. “Have you tried it?”

Spock frowned. The captain huffed a wounded sigh. “No he hasn’t.” He somehow managed to make it sound like this hadn’t devastated him.

Chapel hid a smile at the captains obvious distress and turned squarely to spock. She bent down. “Is it because you are too afraid of melted cheese to even try it?”

Spock drew back slightly. His eyes narrowed. “No,” he said sullenly.

“Then prove it,” chapel said as she filled her own plate and took a bite of the macaroni, making sure spock saw her.

The little boy pinched his lips. But after a moment he reached out and scooped up a tiny bite and put it reluctantly in his mouth. His eyes widened. He looked from chapel to the captain. He quickly took several more spoonfuls.

The captain smiled triumphantly up to chapel and nodded his thanks.

Una still held little la’an in front of her, with the girls head on her chest. She turned slightly so la’an could see the others gathered around the large table. There was a spot for them at the end, close enough to be included but far enough away that la’an hopefully wasn’t overwhelmed.

Una sat and just let la’an get acclimated to things. She rubbed her back and smiled at tiny uhura and spock. The three miniature crewmembers really were almost too adorable to handle.

After several minutes, she caught chapels eye who dished up a plate of dino nuggets. She leaned over and carefully set it in front of una.

Una smiled her thanks then placed her hands gently on la’ans shoulders. “Time to eat, sweet pea.” At first the little girl resisted when una tried to sit her up. But then she lifted her head and her dark eyes seemed to spear into unas soul.

“Time to eat,” she said again gently. The little girl stayed stiff as una carefully rearranged her so she was sitting facing forward in unas lap. She wrapped one arm snugly around la’ans waist and rubbed reassuringly at a tiny leg.

When the girl was something other than completely tensed, una slid the plate of food close. la’an hesitated, almost as if she wasn’t sure what to do. So una picked up a chicken nugget and placed it in tiny fingers. Then she grabbed another and took a bite, showing la’an how good it was.

The little girl hesitated. Then she brought the food to her mouth and took the teeniest bite. Una couldn’t tell if she liked it or not. She took another miniscule bite and chewed it much longer than necessary. She slowly bit every appendage and uneven end of the dinosaur nugget. Then she patiently started in on the main body. It took several minutes to finish just the one.

Una discreetly watched la’an eat. It was almost as if the girl was trying to savor every morsal, to make it last as long as possible. To make that one chicken nugget satisfy her for…an hour? A day? A week?

Unas lips thinned and she brought the plate closer. She handed the tiny girl another nugget. “Here, la’an. Eat,” she instructed gently. “East as much as you want. There is more. There will always be more.” Una flashed back to her time with la’an on the King Jr and how the girl had squirreled food away and carried it, hidden on her person, at all times. Just in case.

Una blew out a calming breath and kissed the top of la’ans head. The little girl leaned back against her chest in response. Chapel saw this and couldn’t hide her smile. Not that she really tried though. She leaned over with a bowl of macaroni and cheese and pushed it carefully towards la’an. “Do you want some?” she asked staring into those deep, dark eyes.

La’an considered her a moment, eyes flicking to the pasta. Then she nodded and waited until chapels hands receded before she pulled the bowl closer. Much like spock, her eyes widened and she nearly smiled. Una hid her own smile behind another chicken nugget.

#star trek strange new worlds #una chin riley #number one #la'an noonien singh #christine chapel #nyota uhura #erica ortegas #spock #christopher pike #doctor m'benga #drabbles

[juicezone]

Using Prompt 4 which comes from this! Cooper decides to try and take advantage of his day off tomorrow to regress tonight. He gets himself ready like he usually does, but then meets someone in the kitchen when he's making himself a bottle

Word count: 1,383

Flat on his back, Cooper stared up at the ceiling. A handful of glow-in-the-dark dinosaur stickers littered the area above his bed, courtesy of an unsupervised Ward. He'd insisted Cooper would enjoy them, but Cooper wasn't about to admit Ward was right.

Speaking of the other, he could hear Ward snoring down the hall. It was a bit hard to adjust to having a roommate of sorts- Cooper was a habitual loner who preferred having his own space. Still, rooms were limited on the ship, and he'd rather share with someone he knew than a stranger.

Rubbing his eyes, Cooper sat up, a slight grimace on their face. He'd had a long day- several consoles in various parts of the ship had needed attention, there'd been a surprise drill, and then just general engineering upkeep on top of that. They were tired, but too restless to sleep. Their gaze fell on the floor mat rolled up by the wall, and Cooper shrugged to himself.

"Might as well. I'm off tomorrow," They said to themself as they stood and crossed the room to the dresser, calling for the lights to turn to 50% as he went. It was late, but that wasn't a problem. He was used to getting himself settled down and changed into both pajamas and padding. Cooper picked out his usual pajamas and searched his drawer for a specific diaper. It was his last dinosaur one- he didn't really care about them when big, but his regressed side adored them.

Quietly, he got himself undressed and changed, carefully ensuring the stickies on the sides were fastened correctly. He shifted a bit to double-check that there'd be no issues in case of an actual accident, and then finished up by getting in the feetie pjs.

He rubbed his eyes, already feeling his head slow down and feel a bit softer. Ward described it as "feeling foggy", but he was obsessed with weather. It wasn't quite enough though. It was too easy to feel big- they needed a little extra something. Quietly, Cooper opened their door as stepped out into the hall.

Ward continued snoring, the bathroom door open just enough to let a little sliver of light into his room. The sound of their steps was muffled, and Cooper made it into the kitchenette area without waking his roommate. He plucked out the bottle Ward had gotten him- little wrenches and tools on the side- and set the replicator to fill it up.

"Take it to my room, see if that helps," Cooper mumbled to himself, watching the bottle fill. Warm milk, just a little bit of vanilla and sugar. Nothing too fancy.

"See if it helps what?"

Cooper jumped, startled by the sudden voice. He turned to face Bones, the other man leaning against the wall with an eyebrow raised.

"I didn't realize you were here, Dr. McCoy," Cooper cleared his throat before replying. He suddenly realized he was standing in his pajamas while filling a bottle, and his face flushed in embarrassment.

"I told you, Leonard or Bones is fine, kid. Hell, even Len or Leo, if you want. We're not on duty, you don't have to be so formal," Bones replied, sounding mildly amused. He gestured again at the bottle, now full, and repeated his question. "So, see if it helps what?"

"..Nothing." Cooper turned to secure the top of the bottle on, but when he turned around again, Bones was still there.

"You know, Ward's out for the count. That cold stuff I give him, it puts him right out." Bones' voice was softer than his usual tone, easily recognized as the one he often used with Ward when he was regressed. Cooper shifted, not entirely sure how they felt about Bones using that tone with him.

"That explains the snoring I heard, I suppose. I'm sure he'll be clinging to you tomorrow," Cooper deliberately avoided any sort of acknowledgement about what was happening right now, despite standing there with a bottle of milk. Bones rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Cooper, kiddo, if you're having a hard time settling down, I don't mind looking after you for a bit, if you want. You don't always have to go off and skulk on your own," Bones said, a bit more direct this time. He took a slight step forward while judging Cooper's response.

"I'm pretty sure I don't need you to give me a bottle." Cooper huffed, still feeling embarrassed.

"Didn't say you needed me to, I said if you wanted me to. There's a different there, stubborn."

They scowled slightly, crossing their arms over their chest as the two of them stared at each other. They were both stubborn, but in the end, Cooper's tiredness wound up costing him the win.

"I don't need you to," Cooper repeated, glancing away. He could hear Bones snort, and then there was a hand ruffling his hair.

"Again- didn't say you needed it. But I think you want it, you're just a bit stubborn and pouty right now, huh? C'mon, sweetpea, come sit over on the couch with me." Bones soothed, somehow managing to coax Cooper over to sit on the couch. The caregiver sat them down with Cooper between himself and the arm of the couch, leaning the reluctant regressor into him.

"There we go. Here, lemme see that bottle, alright?"

Cooper gripped the bottle tighter and held it closer to him, shaking his head in refusal. Bones didn't press the matter, just giving Cooper time to relax. After several minutes passed with the regressor just barely relaxing, he began talking again.

"You know, I've got plenty of experience and patience doin' all this. Hell, I looked after Jim when we were in the Academy, and he was a little hellion sometimes."

Bones pretended to not notice the slightly interested look crossing Cooper's face, as well as the way they turned a bit more.

"One time, I carried him all the way across campus while he threw the biggest tantrum he could possibly manage. All because I told him he couldn't eat something he was allergic to."

Bones grinned when that managed to get a snort of disbelief, and he continued on, "Oh, and Ward can be quite the little guy too. Mr. "I'm not small, Len!", meanwhile he's running around in a rainstorm with only pajama pants and flip-flops on."

"Soun's like Ward." Cooper rolled his eyes. The caregiver hid a grin- he could hear the slight fumble in Cooper's voice, as well as how he'd relaxed more. He was resting his head on Bones' shoulder now, looking a bit sleepier.

"Yeah? He's pretty silly sometimes. I got a silly kid, a little troublemaker, and a stubborn baby too," Bones murmured softly, plucking the bottle out of Cooper's relaxed grip with ease. The little one shot him a betrayed look, and he was quick to soothe it.

"Oh, you're alright, baby boy. C'mon, you're just so tired right now, aren't you?" Bones cooed, ignoring the embarrassed flush on Cooper's face. He shifted to better support Cooper, holding the nib of the bottle up to his mouth. He waited patiently until Cooper finally stopped squirming and let the caregiver pop the nib into his mouth.

Cooper huffed a bit, but didn't pull away or complain anymore. They still had a slightly pouty look on their face and kept one hand on the bottle, but it was clear who'd won this battle. By the time the bottle was emptied, Cooper's eyes were practically closed and he'd definitely slipped into the younger range of his headspace.

"There we go, you're just a stubborn baby, aren't you?" Bones murmured softly, coaxing Cooper to stand up with him. He was practically carrying the other, not that he minded. Carefully, he put Cooper down in his bed and tucked him in, propping up the removable bed railings. Cooper was fast asleep when Bones stood back up, and the doctor shook his head, mildly amused.

"Night, kiddo. See you in the morning," Bones said softly, stepping out of the room. He kept the door open just a little bit, like he'd done with Ward's door, and settled back on the couch. He'd stay up a bit longer- just in case either of his kids needed him.

#agere oc #agere fic #character: cooper

[jojolovenotes]

trick or treat!!!!

"should i be worried that you know how to replicate fake blood this well? i probably should be, right?" from Halloween Prompts

You watched carefully as Dio was putting the finishing touches on the Halloween decor outside…He added a small fake graveyard with zombie decorations which he decided need a final touch with some fake blood. You were impressed by the amount of detail the fake blood entailed - if you hadn’t been watching Die make the fake blood to begin with you could’ve sworn it was actually real.

“Should i be worried that you know how to replicate fake blood this well? i probably should be, right?" You said jokingly, although the chuckle that followed made you question if you really were nervous. 

“Don’t worry, I just spent a lot of time figuring out how to do it, I promise.” Dio reassured you with a small chuckle when he saw the look on your face.

“Ok… Good.” You sounded relieved realizing you shouldn’t have to worry so much about these things. That’s silly.

“I’m a bit flattered though… It must mean I did a great job if you really thought his fake blood was real.” Dio chuckled a little bit again, “Don’t worry, my darling. It’s fake. I assure you.”

“I know… I’m not worried.” You said, your cheeks feeling warm at being called ‘darling’. 

“What’s that smile for?” Dio wondered - well, he had a feeling, but he wanted to tease you just a little bit.

“You know you always make me smile.” You were quick to respond, and before Dio could say anything else you looked at the other decorations you put out. “Oh! You put out some dinosaurs on display as well!” 

“Of course, I know how much you like them. I figured they work for Halloween too. I know how many people are afraid of that ‘Jurassic Park’ movie.” Dio said with a nod. 

You found it so sweet that Dio would include dinosaurs in your Halloween decorations because it was your special interest. It warmed your heart when he was being so thoughtful like this. You couldn’t help but hug him. 

Dio was surprised by the sudden hug, but he hugged you back giving you a kiss to your forehead. 

“Do you want to help me finish up putting on the fake blood?” He asked when slowly pulling away from the hug. 

“… Well, Ok. You seem to have a lot left to do. I’ll help you.” You agreed now taking an extra brush he had and dipping it into the fake blood. 

#received transmission ✨ #ships: Dio #lovenotesween23 #princesscatherinearts #went for modern AU I hope that's cool! ;w; #queue ✨

[maypop-the-dragon]

Self-Portrait, 2024-02-02

↓ Explanation and WIPs under the cut! ↓

The way I see myself has gone through various phases throughout the years, and lately I've been feeling some of those old ways of being resurface. I had the idea to create a "self-portrait" that includes several of my various "iterations" all posing together. I'll describe each thing in (roughly) chronological order.

The yellow blobs in the sky are hallucinations I used to have in the dark as a small child. I think they're related to my visual snow. I can still "summon" them sometimes if I have them on my mind. They're yellow, roughly square blobs with oblong black ovals for "eyes," resembling the flip-blocks from Super Mario World. They would sort of vibrate while seemingly moving toward me.

The background is meant to be a Minecraft snowy tundra. I am a long-time Minecraft player, and I have fond memories of snowy tundra biomes specifically for some reason. I am particularly nostalgic for the sound of breaking ice and the way the roses contrasted with the snow. I used to use the seed blank to build on MCPE, I once saw a "portal to mars" tutorial and tried to replicate it and that was on a snowy world, and I think I tried the 1.5 update on a snowy world. I feel attached to that one world for some reason. I remember there was a ravine with lapis. The silliest thing? I cared about the lapis even though I was playing in Creative Mode.

The cartoonish sleeping child is me as a child. Back in elementary school, I would draw comics a lot, and I was often a character in them. My art style at the time was influenced by Diary of a Wimpy Kid and later Big Nate. I only had access to lined paper, but I made the best of it by using the lines to measure out panels. They were each 4 lines tall, but I later changed it to 5 lines. Speaking of the comics I used to make, the new Mr. What-The is still in development.

The big green guy is an anthropomorphic "mullet dinsoaur." This long-haired long-neck boi was originally not anthro. I drew it and mullet dinosaurs kind of became my "thing" for a while, though I only managed to draw two! (I hadn't yet learned the efficient drawing techniques I know now) That character is still my profile picture on YouTube and some other platforms. At some point I would sometimes semi-involuntarily visualize myself as an anthropomorphic version if it. (This was before I decided to just actually be a furry.) Interestingly, I just remembered that I did the visualizing thing with Ord from Dragon Tales once when I cried as a small child.

The blue-gray Furret is based on a quick edit I once made of the official Furret artwork using the iOS Photos app. I also used a similar blue-gray Furret as an icon for my secret YouTube channel. When Furret Walk was popular, I had an intense Furret obsession phase. I would doodle Furret all the time, which also helped me get better at drawing fast and loose, and I still have my Furret plush. This obsession was so intense that I sometimes wished I could become a Furret and just be a wholesome creature. (Now that I think of it, I suppose I still prefer to be a wholesome creature.) I was even happy because of the specific appearance of the wrinkles on my cheeks when I smiled very wide. This phase was also when I discovered my desire to cuddle when I was doodling Furrets and drew two of them hugging and cried a lot about it.

The red, hovering, serpent-like creature is a self-insert character from an earlier concept of my website. It lives in space and its body is filled with a jelly substance that it can manipulate psychically to move its body. The scruff on its neck is an excess store of said substance, which is pushed out to extend limbs such as arms. It is actually a modified version of a similar creature I made up specifically to be easy and interesting to animate for music videos. That original creature was white and had no eyes or canonical home. Aside from that, it was the same.

The other... creature... is my current fursona. That's me, May. Me now. My character design draws inspiration from many sources that all call back to various aspects of myself and my past. You can see that it's aesthetically more feminine or androgynous than the mullet iteration, which is because I have since explored what gender expression I am most happy with a lot more. That applies to much of the design really. It’s much more intentionally constructed to represent who I want to be. I am a cute silly dragon now, rawr!!

After writing all that, I'm starting to think my personality really is just several mental illnesses in a trenchcoat.

WIPs

I heard of posting WIPs to prove you’re not an AI and I think that’s a neat idea so here you go... (The weenor is specifically planned because I don't usually draw characters with external genitalia. You can't even see the bulge in the final drawing, though. What a waste.)

#art #traditional art #colored pencils #furry #196 #self portrait #autistic #furret #dragon furry #May Draws

[linkingdotts]

What Does the Future Hold for Social Media Marketing?

Ultimately, “Life finds a way.”

This famous line from Steven Speilberg’s Jurassic Park (1993) was spoken by Dr. Ian Malcolm and referred to the survival instincts of a captive-bred dinosaur. The context is very particular, but the meaning is universal. No matter how difficult things get, life (be it dinosaurs or humans) will find a solution.

What is the purpose of living if not interacting with other people?

Keep in mind: To facilitate global interaction, humans developed the typist, the telephone, the internet, and social media. No amount of platform upheaval or fleeting social fads can alter the fact that we are social beings. There will always be individuals trying to connect to the internet.

The uncertainty surrounding the future of social media marketing can be both a threat and a chance. If you know what you’re doing, then keep doing it. We need you to step up and rule with authority now.

We polled our staff and a select group of outside specialists to find out what they see for the future of social media so that you can weather the storm.

Brands And The Art Of Credibility In 2023

First, what sounds genuine to a person will not sound genuine coming from a company. Shock-jock social marketing and other such strategies may generate initial interest, but if you want to make a real difference, you must rethink your approach.

Social Media Manager at the American Association of Nurse Anesthetists, Briana Rabiola, aims to achieve this by focusing on the needs of the organization’s members first. The public would enjoy a look behind the scenes. Clients are interested in learning more about a company’s “who” and “how” before investing in it.

The key to maintaining authenticity on social media in 2019 and beyond may lie in emphasizing employee advocacy, proactive involvement, and team spotlights.

Your Strategies For Promoting Your Business Need To Be Spot On.

Consumers vented their ire at network upgrades this year. July saw the participation of a few well-known faces.

Unfortunately, these feelings lead to higher standards for brand material. After all, the material draws users back to these apps regularly. What good is it if it doesn’t strike a chord with anyone?

Methods for Creating Resonant Narratives in the Year 2023

GWI has found that people use social media less for product study and more for finding new ideas and inspirations. This means that if the sole purpose of your posts is to promote a transaction, you risk alienating your audience.

Instead, appeal to these changing tastes by showcasing your product’s usefulness in the context of the buyer’s daily routine. 

What succeeded here can be replicated by anyone, whether they are working in tandem with creators or independently. Show customers how your product works in reality, and they’ll figure out the rest.

More People Will Be Required To Help Out

In 2022, the three most popular forms of in-feed social material were short-form video, images, and live video. More time and imagination are required to manage a brand’s account successfully. For obvious reasons, bandwidth and time constraints are the biggest obstacles facing social media advertisers today.

Conclusion

One thing is sure for social media managers in 2023: It is time to own your authority and maximize the opportunities before you. Incorporate these forecasts as possible starting points for your strategy, and then let your performance statistics guide the rest.

#Future of Social Media #Marketing trends #Social media marketing #Social media platforms

[kyle-reviews]

Godzilla (1954) Review

You know that classic monster flick with a giant dinosaur-like creature stomping around Tokyo? Yup, that's Godzilla (1954), and boy, does it still hold up after all these years. Directed by Ishirō Honda, this film is the granddaddy of all kaiju movies and is still a cinematic treat that keeps you glued to your seat.

For people who haven't seen it, they might be like, "Oh, that's just an old monster movie," but trust me, it's so much more. Godzilla is not only a thrilling ride filled with action and suspense, but it's also a metaphor for the devastation brought about by nuclear weapons, reflecting the collective anxiety of post-World War II Japan.

Right from the get-go, you can tell that Honda's direction is on point. He uses innovative special effects for the time, like suitmation – a guy in a suit stomping around miniature sets – which was pretty rad back then. And to this day, it has a certain charm to it that CGI just can't replicate.

The haunting score by Akira Ifukube sends chills down your spine, perfectly capturing the impending doom brought on by Godzilla. The sound design adds to the tension as well, with Godzilla's iconic roar being downright terrifying even today.

Honda's approach to storytelling is unique too, as he doesn't just focus on the monster; he delves into the human drama. The characters are fleshed out and have their own arcs. Take Dr. Serizawa (Akihiko Hirata) for instance. He's a brilliant scientist who's torn between using his Oxygen Destroyer to kill Godzilla and keeping it a secret to prevent it from becoming another weapon of mass destruction.

The cinematography by Masao Tamai is nothing short of amazing. The way he captures the destruction and chaos caused by Godzilla is breathtaking. The use of light and shadow adds an eerie atmosphere that keeps you on edge.

And let's not forget the groundbreaking work by Eiji Tsuburaya, the special effects mastermind. His miniature sets are so detailed and intricate that it's hard to believe they're not real. The destruction sequences are both thrilling and heart-wrenching, effectively conveying the film's underlying themes.

So yeah, Godzilla (1954) is not just another monster movie. It's a fantastic piece of cinema that transcends the genre and still holds up to this day. It's got everything – action, suspense, drama, and a thought-provoking message. If you haven't seen it yet, do yourself a favour and check it out. You won't be disappointed. And for those who've seen it before, it's always worth another watch. Trust me, it just gets better every time.

In spite of it not being everyone's cup of tea, I enjoyed this movie until the end and give it a 7/10 for its old school feel :)

#Gozilla-1954 #IDC4U #Film-Reviews #Writing

[the-obi-collective]

Our Origins

so, you may have been wondering, how did this fic come to life? how did five friends decide to write a fic together? what inspired this fic? well, gather 'round, for the time has come to reveal all.

it all started 13.7 billion years ago, with the big bang. as you all know, the universe was created in this "big bang." planets, stars, moons, asteroids, nebulas, everything. the universe began to expand. galaxies were created.

we shall zoom in on one such galaxy: the milky way. it's gorgeous, isn't it? the circle of the arms in the emptiness of space, beautiful blues and purples, clusters of stars, all orbiting a black hole. it really makes you feel tiny. let's alleviate that. zoom in even farther.

4.6 billion years ago, the sun was born at the inner edge of the orion arm of the milky way galaxy. the creation of the sun has generally been regarded as a good thing, because it led to the creation of the earth, and thus, us. yes, us. the mods. hi. (we're not talking about the newspaper called "the sun." that's a bad thing.)

the circumstances of the formation of what we identify as "life" are unique and horribly difficult to replicate in the wild. lightning strikes, energy hits atoms just the right way, and voila! we have the molecular building blocks of life — carbohydrates, lipids, proteins, and amino acids.

we're just going to scroll faster, now. bacteria, endosymbiotic theory, blah blah, dinosaurs, meteor, blah blah, ice age, jesus christ may or may not have been born, blah blah, we'll skip the rest of it.

flash forward. july 2022.

i shall tell this to the best of my ability, for it is a complex tale.

i am setting the scene. picture this: it is the 21st of july, 2022. we are all on discord because we're losers and have no life.

mod obi2 has been reading star wars: the clone wars fanfiction, as is their wont. they get off the fanfiction site for a minute to scream into a discord server, as is also their wont. the difference is that this time they have not been using the glorious tagging and filtering system of ao3, instead retreating to fanfiction.net. (horrible move on their part, really.)

"interesting," they say. "i have just discovered an obitine fic in the wild."

mod obi1 jumps in. "that sounds insane," he says. "i like it."

"what," says mod obi2.

"it sounds insane," repeats mod obi1. "i want to analyze it in a lab."

oh, thinks mod obi2. they understand now. "the tine in obitine is not palpatine," they say, calmly, instead of freaking out as would be rational.

"oh," says mod obi1. "never mind."

the conversation ends there. some time later, still on july 21st, 2022, a largely unrelated conversation happens. we are still all on discord because we still have no life.

"what should my next crackfic be about," says mod obi2. "i have many options: mcfic style writing or purple prose."

here we must travel backwards in time for a bit. several months ago, at the tail end of 2021, two of our mods wrote a fic together. it was a strange, surreal fic, and made little sense to anyone looking for seriousness. in this fic, the legend goes, there was a diner. a parody, if you will, but parody implies an intent to critique. the diner was simply an in-universe analog of our universe's mcdonald's. thus, their crackfic gained the nickname "mcfic."

mod obi4 steps in. "mcfic style writing obitine."

(here i find it important to note that prior to us beginning to write pernicious suitor, mod obi4 was not aware of what exactly "mcfic style writing" entailed. they would soon be enlightened.)

mod obi2 sighs. "do you mean. the fandom-accepted meaning of obitine? or..."

mod obi4 gestures to the preceding conversation. "obi-wan kenobi x sheev palpatine, of course."

"ok. i don't think i could write any romantic relationship, much less this romantic relationship," says mod obi2 with remarkable lack of screaming and running away. truly, we should all congratulate them on their impressive amount of self-control.

"i'm not writing anything at this moment. i'll do it," says mod obi4.

mod obi2, inspired by their bravery, resolves to help. "mod obi4," they say, nodding to themself. "i will help you make it worse."

mod obi1 bangs on the (figurative) door. "let me in i have nothing to contribute," he says.

"ok," says mod obi2. "we are decided, then."

and the conversation moves on.

the next day, mods obi1, obi2, obi3, and obi5 are texting. yes, on discord still, because we are still massive losers.

we throw around name suggestions for the in-universe mcdonald's. such suggestions include "mcahsoka's," "mcanakin's," and "mcdex's," but we eventually settle on "mcyoda's."

mod obi2 speaks. "obi1, obi4, and i are going to write a fic in the mcfic style but it's obi wan x palpatine. who wants in."

mod obi3, who is not on the server where yesterday's conversation took place, is taken aback. "OBIWAN X WHO NOW???????" they scream.

"obi-wan x sheev palpatine," replies mod obi2. "should i make a group chat for this?"

"sure," says mod obi5.

and thus, our google doc "done with everything obi wan x himbo palpatine enemies to lovers slowburn speedrun with plot GO:," aka "they would else have been troubled (with such a pernicious suitor)" was born.

and a month later, we are left with a monster of our own creation, forty thousand words and counting of pure, unadulterated crack, featuring a nightmare sequence, god-awful poetry, and a magical girl battle. there are screenplays, seagulls, purple prose, seagulls, audio transcripts, seagulls, philadelphia, pennsylvania, and more seagulls, all within the confines of the pages of the fic.

we hope you enjoy.

(don't let the seagulls out. they bite.)

#the obis speak #mod obi3 #origins of the fic

[djinnewyorkcity]

Sizzle up your Special day with a Wedding DJ!

The wedding bells are ringing, and love is in the air..but what’s that? Oh yes, that’s the elephant in the room- the burgeoning anxiety that you and your beloved are feeling as you start to lay out all the groundwork required to make your wedding day special. Your fingers are calloused and tensed up from all the googling, a comprehensive list lies on your table and as you peer through its content, you feel dazed and overwhelmed. Sounds slightly overdramatic, doesn’t it? However, these are the stresses people go through while planning out a day that is supposed to earmark a new journey in people’s lives, a journey they will undertake together through life’s many highs and troughs. Planning your wedding is one of those moments.

Planning out a wedding can be a real pain! We all harbor dreams of finding the one, someone we can rely on for the rest of our lives. The wedding day is that one day where things come full circle, and we all endeavor to make it as special and memorable as we can not just for us, but for every guest involved in the spectacle. 

The placement of the lights, the food, the vibe, the wedding DJ, everything matters. After all, it’s a proclamation of your lifelong commitment to someone you simply cannot do without and want to share your life with. That’s a big deal, no?

Now, now, it’s one thing to harbor the dream, and another to deal with the logistics of it all. The latter is the least romantic and sweet part of it, and rightly so, cause planning out your special day is truly one of the bigger headaches you shall ever undertake. Organising the event in itself is probably not the biggest issue as of now, and you’d be left wondering how you’re gonna deal with the proverbial dinosaur of the room i.e the pandemic!

Oh yes, the pandemic. What do I do now?

In such perilous times, you are right to feel overcautious as people gathering in one particular space will always remains a risky practice. Aside from this, there’s also the issue of people becoming scattered all over the country while the pandemic was brewing, with remote work becoming prevalent practice and people moving back to places where they had a pre-existing house, or simply opting to move away someplace else without their occupation tying them down to a certain place. While the pandemic has remained in control, how will you have friends and family who live far away and cannot make it to your special day in a physical setting join you? It’s a real curveball, but not one that cannot be easily dealt with.DJ Zeke is here to save the day!

When adversity comes around, people innovate and work around it. Today, with the likes of Zoom and other video calling applications, people are able to remain perenially connected even if they are situated in two different corners of the world, granted their internet connection is stable. You know this, but is people watching you getting wed to the love of your life any fun? Can one replicate the magic and the jubilance of an on-site wedding? You bet one can and nobody knows how to spruce up a wedding more than DJ Zeke himself.

A mainstay in the NY club scene and a seasoned player in the entertainment industry, DJ Zeke’s talent, passion for his craft, and uncompromising professionalism have been the backbone of his incredible success and having played for all kinds of crowds, from the corporate types to the international folks, he knows all about elevating an occasion. He dabbles in a variety of genres, from reggaeton to pop hits, to afro-beats and techno, and has the innate ability to mix it all up and keep the energy and the evening flowing. Amongst all New York City DJs, DJ Zeke has carved out a niche for himself through his unerring output and with his live streaming production company in tow, threatens to make your wedding day a truly spectacular, unforgettable bash that has your friends and family talking about for years!

#wedding dj #Wedding DJ New York City #dj service #dj services #dj new york city #live stream services #Live Streaming Production Services

[6mommymilkers9]

Do you take requests? If so do you think you could write Karl heisenberg and Lady dimitrescu(seperate obvi) with an s/o who really really likes dinosaurs? I know it sounds strange but dinos are some of my favorite things in the world and ya know, maybe tall mama and metal daddy would think its cute?

Aww, I love dinosaurs! I wonder if they even know what a dinosaur is?

Lady Dimitrescu and Karl Heisenberg Reacting To A S/O Who Loves Dinosaurs

Alcina Dimitrescu

° Dinosaurs? Uh, she lives as if it were the sixteenth century, she has no clue as to what you are even talking about. "Lubirea mea, what is this.. dinosaur you are speaking of?"

° You go into full, "She really doesn't know" mode, which prompts you into dragging her, somehow, into the library, where you stashed some books of the creatures, showing her some illustrations, not bothering with reading captions.

° You had read them so many times that you could recite them, plus, it was more fun telling her of your vast knowledge of them anyways! No book needed.

° Alcina becomes intreeged as you babble about the beings, her flipping page through page, seeing creatures her other form looks nearly like. They had peaked her interest.

° It became even more interesting as you pulled out a Velociraptor claw, showing her the ridges and grooves that were imprinted into the ancient fossil.

"Love, where did you get that?" "Oh, um...maybe from a museum somewhere?"

° While dinosaurs were new to her, she was more focused on you rambling about them. You never talked so fast, nor had so much information on a topic, that she found it adorable.

° She could spend days with you talking about them and she'd never get bored. That's exactly what she did. From that day, she had bought you more books and pictures of the creatures, proud of how happy you would get, speaking about what each one was.

° These dinosaurs might not be so bad. If you were interested, she was too.

Karl Heisenberg

° "Wait wait wait, you're telling me there were huge fucking birds roaming around here?!" "Uh, well, yes?"

"What the fuck?!!"

° He is so intrigued about these beings just as much as you are. Maybe not for the same reasons, but you love his enthusiasm anyways. He loves you talking about them, thinking of ways how he could've used them in his factory, or how he could replicate them some day.

° He reads through your dinosaur books a lot in his spare time, having you on his lap, you giving him additional information on each creature you were on that day. Sometimes, when you aren't around, he builds little dinosaur figures from the books for you. It ain't the best, but he tried.

° It got even better when you brought 'Jurassic Park' with you for movie night. You swear he never blinked during the entire film. Sometimes, you could see him watching it again during break time.

° He finds it so cute when you come home with something from the store, of course being dinosaur merchandise. You once bought matching Allosaurous pajamas for a holiday. He wears them with pride.

° You and Karl like to make little figures of the creatures and spread them throughout Moreau's mines, knowing he would be more than confused. As well as think of theories of these creatures. If you couldn't tell, Karl's favorite is a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Classic choice.

° You two could talk about them for days and not get bored. With your knowledge and passion, Karl can listen to you for days and never loose interest. Maybe one day he'll have to get you a fossil or something similar. If you hear of a break-in at your local museum, ignore it.

#resident evil 8 #resident evil headcanons #resident evil village #resident evil #resident evil x reader #lady dimitrescu x female reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #tall vampire mommy #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg headcanons #karl heisenberg x you #karl heisenberg #salvatore moreau x reader #salvatore moreau #donna beneviento x reader #donna beneviento #mother miranda

[brandycranby]

By Your Mouth and Mine

Summary: Steve wants nothing more but to taste everything the 21st century has to offer. Even you.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Asian/Desi!reader (dark-haired, dark-eyed; no skin tone mentioned)

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: PG13 rating, no explicit content; HOWEVER, IF YOU ARE READING THIS WORK OR ANYTHING ELSE ON MY BLOG, YOU AGREE THAT YOU ARE 18 OR OLDER. PLEASE DO NOT COPY/REPOST/REPLICATE MY WORK ON ANY OTHER SITE.

A/N: this is my first Steeb fic, big thank you and smooches to @punemy-spotted​ for beta-ing for me 💕💗💞 moodboard by me, dividers by @firefly-graphics​​

You teach him about mangoes one day in June when the fruit sellers on Canal Street are colored red, green, and yellow in the kaleidoscope of their umbrellas. With him hovering over your shoulder, you pick out six the same size of your hand, almost miniature in his. Their skin is a smooth gold, feathered with green like new grass.

Steve makes note of them but is laden down with a dozen other treasures of his own choosing, each ensconced in their own little plastic bag. Fruits in the 21st century are no sweeter than those in the forties but there are so many new kinds compared to the simple selection he remembers. You’ve decided to take him on an adventure of trying every single one.

Some are tucked away against his chest, others hanging from his arms. A bag of longan fruit dangles from the crook of his pinky finger.

The mangoes go inside your rice container. You bury them with reverence, smoothing grains of jasmine rice on top, feeling the rough drag of granules against your palms. They’ll ripen with time.

For now, you close the cabinet and spy your neighbor still hovering in the kitchen doorway. There’s a large round pear in his hand, all the way from Seoul, and a trickle of juice at the corner of his mouth. His lip quirk with sheepish delight.

“I couldn’t wait,” he murmurs before offering you a bite.

You accept with a whispered ‘thanks’ and bring his hand to your mouth. The skin is taut, breaking with a snap under your teeth. For a moment, you chew, tongue darting out to lap at the juice welling up from the bite you inflicted. You feel his eyes on you, the quickening of his breathing, and keep yours down, trained on the fruit. To look up now would be too intimate.

There’s a line that hasn’t been crossed yet, one separating you from being neighbors and close friends to something more. Why else have you saved the mangoes?

So you chew and allow him to pull away, slipping out the door with a faint ‘see you’ and back next door. So you wait and you wait for a day that is right.

Until close to a week has passed and you hear his door slam shut, shaking your small apartment with the force of it. Hear the litany of muttered curses and the sound of a duffel bag being flung on the floor floating through the walls.

Steve is angry — no, furious. Possibly. He’s not quite sure what he’s feeling at the moment, so many thoughts swirling through his head. How he should organize next week’s training schedules, if he should consider a replacement, you and the intense - inappropriate - desire he has for you, tamped down each time you come over. He sighs, the summer heat sits heavily on him and all he wants to do is flop on his painfully small sofa and just lie there.

But there’s a knocking on the door and it’s you.

He knows it’s you, can feel your singular thrum of nervous energy through the door and hear your soft rabbit breaths. He swallows his anxiety and opens the door.

There you stand in your soft cotton clothes, your dark hair mussed and falling out of whatever style you had it in earlier. A few wisps flutter into your face as you let yourself in, kicking your shoes off in the entrance hall. He looks down at your slip-ons, briefly dwelling on how small they are next to his trainers. Dinosaur feet, you’ve accused him before, he has dinosaur feet.

Steve spies the small bowl in your hand and sees the unknown fruit in it. Interest piqued, he follows you into his kitchen and obediently sits down at the table while you rummage through his drawers for something. There are five in the bowl, he counts, and he holds one experimentally, noting the faint wrinkling, the gentle curve of the fruit, its soft soft skin glowing gold under the ceiling lights. He fills his mind with it, the brilliant color peppered with little spots, imperfections like freckles.

“It’s a honey mango,” you say, setting down a paring knife and taking one from the bowl. It looks so big in your hand, the narrower curving head of it fitting perfectly in between your thumb and index finger. He mimics you as you bring it to your nose and sniffs, sighing at the intense perfume of it as it fills his lungs and the world shrinks down until there’s nothing but gold, gold, gold…

The serum has done him many favors but none are so appreciated as his heightened senses. The sheer number of smells and colors he can pick apart now, the littlest hint of green in your red lip tint — that’s a new thing - the faintest coriander notes in the stews you like so much, even the smallest shifting of brown in your eyes.

When he comes to, you’re already halving the fruit in your hand, puncturing the skin with the knife and carving it apart. The skin splits so easily, he thinks, thumbing the mango he’s still holding, so soft like real skin, like the lobe of your ear or your cheek or the plush stretch where your collarbones leads to your breasts-

“Here,” you slip the mango he’s holding from loose fingers, replacing it with a carefully cubed half - the one without the pit he notes. You shush him when he protests and reaches for yours, ever the gentleman. “Try it first, I’ll let you have more.”

Then you busy yourself with cleaving the hard pit away with a neat slice, criss-crossing the flesh with your knife until it’s cubed. You’ve timed it perfectly, the mangoes ripened so well, they give easily with pressure. You gently push the peel outwards until it’s inside out and nip a cube off. Across from you, you hear Steve do the same. You laugh at the quick gasp he makes as the new flavor hits his tongue and his eagerness to pick another piece off the peel, slurping with abandon.

You chew contemplatively; mangoes were always a special summer treat for you and you’ve learned to savor it, tasting the thick syrup, the smooth flesh as it melts under your teeth, and the briefest tingle of sourness at the tip of your tongue. You finish, scraping the peel for the last scraps. It’s bitter so close to the skin; the surprise of it fills your mouth with saliva and you swallow with contentment. Looking up, you watch Steve in his brief moment of rapture, his jaw moving even slower than yours as he takes in the foreign sensations, flavors melding into one he never thought could exist.

The astringency lingers on his tongue and he feels his bad day dissolve into nothingness as he meets your eyes, earth-dark and full of pleasure. There’s sweet pulp on his fingers, under his nails left from when he’d pried cubes off the peel in a frenzy. There’s nectar on your lips making them shine, on your tongue, he’s sure. There's a quick flash of red as you lick your lips, such a small mouth you have and yet cavernous.

He wants to lick the trail of fruit juice on your chin where it dripped — you’re peeling the thin strip of skin from around the flesh clinging to the stone — put his fingers in your mouth so you can taste the honey on his skin, and - and you’re sucking - you’re sucking at the pit and Steve’s lost in a world where there’s only you and the hard tapering seed tucked between your soft lips.

You mouth along the mango stone, teeth scraping away the creamy flesh stuck to it, and Steve breathes a long ragged breath, feels the heat of his cock along his thigh, the churning of his stomach — partially guilt but mostly want. His senses are full of you, suffocated by the pure sensuality of the moment. Your eyes fluttering shut in delight. You carefully suckling the last shreds of sweetness. The sticky wetness running down your fingers, coating your palm, to your wrist. You pause for breath and sigh, and it’s not quite a moan but makes him tremble in his chair, every muscle tensed.

And Steve’s— he’s not going to— he won’t— he shouldn’t— he— he just can’t anymore. He reaches out with a broad hand and drags yours to his face. He smells the dimming mango fragrance surrounding him again and presses his mouth against your palm.

Mangoes aren’t an aphrodisiac, you’re fairly sure. But your head is light and floating away, the rhythm of your heart beating a fast beat. Steve has his lips on you, his open mouth hot against the delicate skin of your palm. A moan, from one of you, fills the air. You watch as his eyes, molten, flick upwards to meet yours and his lips slide, taking each finger to worship it clean of nectar.

The air is charged, thrumming with an unexplored energy. He’s made a leap, a jump across the fine line.

You and him.

Just Steve, please, I’m not on duty.

What are you now?

Then there’s no need to call me Miss, Steve.

Steve reluctantly surrenders your hand, runs his tongue along your fingertips one last time with a reverence, and sits back, taking in your half-lidded eyes. It’s a new pleasure for you, his touch, and he suddenly wants to taste the salt of your skin again.

So he does. Leaning forward so slowly, he places a kiss, the barest press of his lips, against the corner of your honeyed mouth. Your ears roar with blood as Steve lets his lips linger with a tender sigh before moving to pull away.

It was today. Today you decided that the fruit had ripened enough in its dark hole and maybe- maybe you’re ripe, bursting, ready to be plucked, to be eaten.

So you turn your head ever so slightly, eyes blurring with quick tears of fear-fear-fear-hope, until your mouth brushes his and tastes sweetness.

---

masterlist

Taglist: @punemy-spotted​​, @october505​​, @stargazingfangirl18​​

#steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction #gratuitous mango description #by your mouth and mine #my writing

[vensosaurus]

Parasaurolophus Sound Recreation Using a computer, scientists at the New Mexico Museum of Natural History have created what they believe are the sounds of the Parasaurolophus, which roamed the earth more than 70 million years ago. It took two years before the sound could be replicated by a museum palaeontologist and a scientist from the Sandia National Laboratories. Here's how they worked it out: Scientists took a three dimensional x-ray of a dinosaur skull which was unearthed in northwestern New Mexico. Then, they fed data through their computer, and calculated how the sound waves may have bounced through the 4-foot (1.3 metre) crest rising  from the back of the dinosaur's head.

#Dinosaur #Dinosaurs #Dino #Dinosaur Sounds #Dinosaur Sound #Duck billed Dinosaur #Ducky #Paleontology #Paleontologists #Real dinosaur noise #Dinosaur Noises #Dinosaur Honking #Herbivore #Hadrosaur #Cretaceous #Late Creaceous #Herbivore Dinosaur #Extinct animal noise recreation #Parasaurolophus #Parasaurolophus sound #Parasaurolophus sound recreation #Parasaurolophus Horn #Parasaurolophus honking #Real dinosaur sounds #Dinosaur sound replication #Parasaurolophus walkeri #Parasaurolophus tubicen #Hadrosaurine #Dinosaur tumblr #New Mexico Museum of Natural History

[nerdzzone]

Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

One of the challenges of sharing custody is sharing holidays which is something that Whitney Taylor found herself struggling with in the December of 2019. The prospect of spending Christmas without her son was dismaying, but the complications that come with the alternative might be even harder to face.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part One

----

Part Two

25.12.19

When I woke up in the morning, it took me a moment to figure out where I was and why the pillow my head was resting on was so hard and warm. Once I'd figured it out - that my head was not actually on a pillow, but on Chris' chest - I almost had to roll my eyes. Of course it was. Of course we'd ended up all cuddled together. Because life was just one big romantic comedy, right?

I sighed quietly, silently praying that Chris wasn't awake yet as I slowly slid myself away from him. He didn't stir until I was sitting on the edge of the bed so I was hopeful that he hadn't been aware of the position we were in.

"G'morning," he greeted me, rubbing his eyes as the sound of excited children echoed down the hallway. "What time is it?"

I quickly checked my phone on the nightstand before answering.

"Only seven o'clock," I told him before yawning. "But it sounds like everyone is up and bouncing off the walls already."

"I'm not surprised," Chris smiled. "They've probably torn into all the presents by now."

I laughed and nodded my head, knowing it was a good possibility.

"It probably wasn't super smart to leave Scott out there guarding them by himself," I pointed out. "Not after he spent half the night shaking his own presents trying to guess what was inside."

"Oh, it definitely wasn't," Chris agreed. "He was always the one who ruined things by finding his presents early and getting us all in trouble."

"Well, I should go see what they're up to or if anything can be salvaged," I smiled as I pulled a sweater on over my pyjamas. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be out in a minute," he assured me. I headed to the door, but stopped when I heard his voice again. "Hey, Whitney? Merry Christmas."

I smiled even wider as that happy, familiar Christmas morning feeling washed over me.

"Merry Christmas, Chris."

With that, I hurried out the door, trying not to focus too much on how content I felt and how right it seemed to wake up in his arms on Christmas morning.

-

When I got to the kitchen, I was surprised to see that everyone else was already awake, despite how early it was.

"Good morning," Lisa greeted me as I wandered into the kitchen where all the adults were congregating. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, everyone," I smiled before they all repeated it back to me. "Did I miss all the fun?"

"No, of course not," Carly assured me. "We've managed to keep them away from the presents so far, but I'm not sure how much longer we can hold them off."

"We're still waiting for Chris though," Scott pointed out as I grabbed a clean mug and headed to the fresh pot of coffee on the counter. "Have you seen him? He disappeared not long after we went to bed and never came back."

"Oh, yeah, he's in his room," I answered mindlessly as I filled my mug. "We ended up sleeping together last night."

I heard Scott almost choke on his coffee and noticed the sudden silence in the room, but it wasn't until Lisa spoke that I realized what I'd said.

"Whitney, honey," she said, speaking softly. "What do you mean?"

"Oh my god, no! Not like that!" I rushed to explain as my cheeks grew hot. "We literally slept together, like as in slept next to each other. Chris came into his room looking for a sweater because he was cold and had given away all his spare blankets so I offered for him to share the bed with me. That's all, I swear."

There were knowing smiles amongst the group and I wasn't entirely sure that they all believed me which made things even more embarrassing as I wouldn't want them to think I'd talk so candidly about things like that with Chris' mother of all people. Before I had a chance to continue desperately defending myself though, a voice from the doorway interrupted.

"What are you swearing about?" He asked, leaning against the doorway. "Why do I feel like I missed something good?"

Again, I was ready to explain, but someone beat me to it.

"Whitney was just giving us the update," Scott informed his older brother as he matched his smirk. "She was telling us how you two slept together."

Chris' eyebrows knitted together in confusion for a moment before he relaxed and let out a chuckle.

"Well, that's not exactly how I would have phrased it," he informed the group with a shrug. "But I suppose it is accurate. We slept and we were together."

"I just misspoke," I groaned. "I haven't had any coffee yet, I wasn't thinking clearly."

"A little Freudian slip?" Carly suggested as she joined in on the teasing, but I simply rolled my eyes.

"Chris probably wishes that was a peak into my subconscious desires, but I'm afraid not. Just a clear sign that I am not a morning person."

"I think we'll all need plenty of coffee to deal with the energy in that living room," Lisa interjected, putting an end to the discussion despite Chris' protests of my claim. "But we should probably go and join them before they open all the presents, whether they belong to them or not."

We all murmured in agreement and everyone topped up whatever beverage they were drinking before we headed to the living room to start the Christmas fun.

-

"Mama!" Grayson shouted as we entered the room. "Look! Santa came!"

"Of course he did," I smiled at the children. "You've all been good this year so it's no surprise."

They all nodded and agreed enthusiastically except Ethan who, now that he was almost ten, had figured out the truth. He was a good kid though and a loving older brother so he kept the secret, quietly watching them with a knowing smile now that he was finally in on the joke with the adults.

"Can we open them?" Stella asked, bouncing up and down from holding in her excitement. "We've been waiting for so long!"

"I wouldn't say so long," Scott chuckled. "Since it's not even eight o'clock in the morning yet!"

"But, yes, you can open them," Carly informed her children. "Just be careful and don't rush."

There was a flurry of activity as the kids dove into the presents, organizing whose was whose before settling down next to their little piles. I took a step back and sat on the couch next to Lisa, letting Chris sit on the floor behind Grayson. It was his Christmas after all and it felt right that he should be the one helping him open presents. Plus, this way I got a perfect view of the joyful grin that was plastered on his face. A grin that was perfectly replicated by his father behind him making my heart clench at the sight of them together like this.

I watched from my spot on the couch as the gifts were opened one by one and soaked in every giggle and shriek of glee from the children. Grayson was on top of the world and so grateful for each and every gift, it was delightful to see. Given our financial security, especially for Chris, it would have been easy to spoil him, but it made me incredibly proud to see how gracious he was.

However, one of the last gifts he wasn't so grateful to receive. It was from me and I knew there was a chance it wouldn't be his favourite, but his response was far worse than I could have imagined.

It was a decent sized box and he tore off the wrapping paper eagerly, intrigued by what could be inside. When he revealed that it was a foot and a half tall electronic T-Rex, his first reaction was one of amazement.

"Wow! A dinosaur!"

"Yeah," I smiled. "Take him out and see what he can do."

Chris set to work helping Grayson open the box before glancing up at me.

"Does he need batteries?"

"I put some in already," I assured him. "I knew he'd want to see it right away so I thought it would be easier."

He nodded as Grayson placed the giant T-Rex on the floor and looked at me expectantly.

"There's a button on his back, press it."

Everyone watched as he poked around until he got the right spot and the dinosaur came to life. He roared and his head moved around, but as the older kids cheered and clapped, Grayson burst into tears.

"Oh, dear..." Lisa smiled as she watched her grandson leap into his father's arms.

Everyone was chuckling at his dramatic reaction as Grayson buried his face in Chris' neck.

"Awe, buddy, I'm sorry!" I apologized. "Did it scare you?"

"Yes! He's scary!" Grayson's response was muffled by Chris' body and hard to understand through his sobs. "I don't wike it, Mama!"

I smiled at the little speech impediment that he inherited from his father - much like the one his cousin, Miles, had - but I did feel bad for how genuinely afraid he was.

"I'm sorry, baby. We can take the batteries out, okay? Then he won't be able to move."

The dinosaur had stopped moving on his own before I spoke and Grayson moved his head from where he was hiding his face, nodding as he did so.

"Yes, please."

"I bought it a while ago, thinking it was the perfect gift and then last week, he suddenly decided that T-Rexes were mean and I thought it might not go down so well," I admitted to the adults as I stretched forward to pick up the dinosaur and take the batteries out. "It's such a shame though, I think he's adorable. If you press the button on his tail, a little song plays and he does a little wiggle dance."

Chris smirked at me as he rubbed our still sniffling son's back.

"Why don't you take him home? Sounds like you might enjoy playing with him when Grayson isn't around."

He was making fun of me, I knew he was, but I didn't take the bait.

"You know what? I might just do that."

Chris opened his mouth to most likely make another teasing comment, but Ethan interrupted him.

"If Grayson doesn't want the T-Rex, can I have it?"

"I think you got enough new toys this morning," Ethan's dad warned him. "Don't be greedy."

"We'll let Grayson keep him for now," Chris agreed. "He might get used to him after a while if he plays with him without the batteries."

I passed the toy in question back to Chris and Grayson cowered away, whimpering against his dad's chest.

"Just leave it for now," I suggested. "We can try it again later when the initial shock has worn off."

Chris nodded and put the dinosaur behind his back and out of sight.

-

The rest of the gift opening went by smoothly and no more children were traumatized. Once every gift that was under the tree had been opened, we left the kids to test out their new things while the adults headed to the kitchen to start making breakfast. It was quickly decided that pancakes would be the easiest thing to mass produce for our large group of hungry people and while Lisa, Carly and I started mixing up a few bowls of batter, Chris and Scott whipped out the orange juice and champagne for mimosas.

An hour later everyone was very full and we were two bottles of champagne down.

"So, Whitney," Scott started as he loaded up the dishwasher. "Are you staying here tonight too or are you planning on making us spend half the day shovelling the driveway for you?"

His tone was teasing, but as I looked out the window at the deep blanket of snow that covered the ground outside, I was torn. I didn't want to outstay my welcome by staying another night, but I also didn't want to make the Evans family spend their entire Christmas day shovelling snow and there was no way that I'd be able to do it by myself.

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "I wasn't planning on staying another night, but it does look like there's a lot of snow out there..."

"Just stay," Chris shrugged. "Even if we can get your car down the driveway, the roads are probably terrible."

"There's no need for you to rush off," Lisa agreed. "Stay another night and then you can just relax and enjoy the day."

"And you can drink if you're not driving home," Scott pointed out with a grin. "Chris and I stocked up on wine, beer, whiskey and gin, these mimosas were just the start of the party."

I couldn't help, but laugh at Scott's reasoning as I nodded my head.

"Alright, I'll stay. If you really don't mind, Chris?"

"Of course not," Chris assured me. "We're happy to have you."

"Great!" Scott grinned. "I'm glad that's settled, I think this calls for another round of drinks!"

Chris cheered and jumped up to help him while the rest of us smiled and shook our heads at their antics.

-

The day was spent soaking in quality family time, watching the kids enjoy their new toys and indulging in lots of food and drink. We called Chris' dad and my parents and even had an unexpected phone call from my Uncle Rob. He spent more time talking to Chris than me, his own niece, but it was nice to hear his voice even if he made sure to get a dig in about me confessing my supposedly obvious feelings to Chris.

Sitting around the table, eating a delicious meal with Chris' loving and welcoming family was quite a contrast to how I expected to spend the day and I was very grateful that Chris had included me. Grayson seemed to appreciate it too and he made his enjoyment clear as we tucked him into bed once all the fun and feasting was done.

Chris sat on the floor leaning against Grayson's nightstand, reading him his favourite bedtime story while I laid on the bed next to him and rubbed his back. He was drifting off by the time the story was finished, but he was fighting it desperately as he spoke again.

"I'm happy, Mama," he told us, his words muffled as he nuzzled into his pillow.

Chris put his hand over his heart as he mouthed an 'awe' at me and I smiled.

"You're happy?" I clarified quietly, my smile growing as he nodded. "I'm glad to hear that, baby."

"I like that you're here," he mumbled. "Daddy should come home with us too."

My heart clenched at that request as my smile faltered. I knew it was only a matter of time until Grayson paid more attention to the fact that his time was divided between two homes, but I wasn't ready to deal with it just yet.

"Maybe Daddy could come for a sleepover sometime," I suggested, stroking his hair back out of his face, but that wasn't all he wanted.

"He should come all the time."

I was never great at hiding my emotions and from the way Chris was watching me, I assumed my distress at Grayson's comments was written all over my face and I was grateful when he jumped into the conversation.

"But what about Dodger?"

Dodger's ears perked up from his spot at the end of the bed, but he settled again when he realized that Chris wasn't calling for him.

"He can come too," was Grayson's answer to that dilemma, but Chris had a response at the ready.

"C'mon, you think Dodger would have enough space in your Ma's apartment?" He asked. "He needs a big house like this to run around in!"

So then we could all just stay here would be the logical comeback to that, but it seemed our sleepy little guy was too tuckered out from the excitement to argue. He let out a little sigh of defeat, but said no more. We stayed quiet for a few minutes until his breathing shifted and he was soundly asleep.

Chris offered me his hand to help me climb over Grayson without waking him up and, after whispering a quiet request to Dodger to keep our boy safe, he led me out of the room.

"You okay?"

The question came as soon as Grayson's door was pulled to and we were in the hallway.

"Yeah, of course," I nodded, forcing a smile. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Chris shot me a look that clearly showed his disbelief.

"You looked pretty downhearted in there."

"I just worry," I shrugged. "I don't want our situation to upset him and I know he's going to notice it more as he gets older."

"He'll be fine," Chris assured me, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder comfortingly. "He's got so much love in his life, he won't even notice that his family is a little different."

I wasn't convinced. He was obviously already noticing or he wouldn't have questioned it only moments before. I didn't want to start such a delicate, potentially tense conversation at the end of such a happy day though so I forced a more convincing smile onto my face.

"You're right," I agreed. "But I wouldn't be a mom if I didn't worry."

"Well, there's no time for worryin' on Christmas!" Chris claimed, followed by a grin as he dragged me off towards the kitchen. "What can I get you? Another wine? Maybe some gin? I might have some tequila kickin' around here somewhere..."

"No! No tequila!" I laughed. "Gin would be great, thanks."

Chris nodded and set to work mixing our beverages for the evening before we went to the living room to rejoin his family and I did my best to push any worries about letting Grayson down out of my mind.

-

After the kids were all in bed, the rest of the evening was spent playing games and sharing drinks. It was heartwarming, wholesome family fun and I was so glad that Scott had encouraged me to stay as the thought of rushing home to my cold, empty apartment wasn't at all appealing.

The only strange thing about the evening was Chris. We were teamed up for most of the games and it was quite amazing how in tune with each other we were as we won everything by a landslide. We'd been friends for a long time and knew each other very well so it was unsurprising to me that we had so much success, but the teasing comments that came from a rather drunk Scott implied other reasons than friendship for our harmony. I scoffed and rolled my eyes every time he cracked a joke about us, but Chris seemed to love it. He was a few drinks in and probably just feeling a little goofy, but the grin on his face after every suggestive comment sparked an odd feeling in my stomach.

It was around ten o'clock when everyone except Chris, Scott and I decided to go to bed. We bid them goodnight and Chris went to top up our drinks before settling back onto the couch beside me. By this time, I was definitely feeling it. I wasn't drunk, but I knew this drink would have to be my last as the flush of my cheeks and the happy, fuzzy feeling in my brain was telling me that it was time to wind it down for the night.

However, as Chris handed me another gin and soda, settled on the couch next to me, placed his drink on the end table beside him and pulled my feet into his lap, my mind suddenly felt surprisingly sharp.

"What are you doing?" I asked, a giggle slipping from my lips.

"Releasing some tension."

As he answered, he began a slow massage of my left foot and I couldn't help, but smile at how wonderful it felt.

"Releasing?" Scott snorted a laugh. "Sure, a foot rub is known for getting rid of tension, not making it worse."

Chris smirked at what Scott was insinuating, but seemed unbothered by it.

"Don't be jealous," he teased, but now it was my turn to smirk.

"Of what?" I questioned. "This foot rub? It's not that great, Scott."

Scott laughed as Chris gasped a tad over dramatically.

"Not that great? I offer you a free foot rub and you can't even be fuckin' grateful?"

Chris shook his head, but the smile on his face told me that he wasn't really offended. He did stop massaging my feet though and I whined in protest as he picked up his drink.

"A mediocre foot rub is better than nothing," I pouted. "Keep going."

Chris sipped his whiskey, the smile on his face morphing back into a smirk as he shook his head again, but he did let his hand rest over my ankles and I was happy for even that tiny bit of contact.

Scott changed the subject to some viral video he saw the other day and Chris laughed and chatted along as he absentmindedly let his hand drift up my shin, underneath the loose pyjama pants that I'd changed into shortly after we put Grayson to bed.

My mind was instantly taken back to another time when we'd shared such gentle touches. A time when his lips followed his fingers as they traced kisses up from my ankle all the way to the lacy edge of my underwear. A time when he'd then proceeded to pull that underwear off with his teeth before returning his face back to a very sensitive area.

"Whitney, have you seen it?"

Scott's question snapped me out of my racy daydream. I felt my cheeks flush with colour as I forced my gaze away from Chris' hand over to Scott, reminding myself that even though the look on Chris' face would make it seem otherwise, he couldn't possibly know what I was just thinking of.

"Uh, no, I haven't," I admitted, sipping my drink to try to cool myself down even though it was becoming apparent to me that I needed to slow down my alcohol consumption. "All I seem to watch these days is Paw Patrol."

Chris barked out a laugh and nodded.

"So much Paw Patrol," he agreed. "The kid's obsessed."

"Chase is on the case!" I giggled before changing my voice slightly. "Rubble on the double!"

"Oh my god," Scott laughed, a horrified look on his face. "We need to get you out more."

I shrugged as Chris continued to trace patterns on my shins.

"That's the life of a mom."

"Yeah, but what about when he's with Chris? You must have some sort of life then."

"Scott."

Chris' voice was harsh and warning as what Scott was implying could be taken as offensive, but I wasn't bothered.

"It's fine," I assured him. "I know I'm lame. I don't have much of my own life, I don't really know anyone around here."

"You have Allison," Chris pointed out. "You've mentioned her a lot. She's your friend, right?"

He was referring to my one and only friend in Massachusetts. She was also a photographer and we'd met at a camera store when I first moved here. She'd asked me a question about a new brand of film and we'd ended up having coffee to exchange tips. She realized quickly that I didn't know many people in town and had taken me under her wing.

"She is," I nodded. "But she has three kids of her own and she's married so she doesn't have weeks where she's child free like I do. We hang out when we can, but usually it's with all the kids, not like quality 'girl time'."

"I didn't know that," Chris frowned. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't feel bad for me." I nudged him with my foot. "I have plenty of friends, they're just in LA. I'm happy here."

"I'll take you out for drinks one day," Scott promised. "Even if you're happy, everyone needs to let their hair down a little bit sometimes."

"That would be fun," I smiled, tossing back the last of my drink. "But for now, I think I've let my hair down enough for today. It's time for me to get to bed before all these drinks go to my head."

I slid my feet off of Chris' lap and slowly stood up as he looked up at me.

"Are you cool if I bunk with you again tonight?"

"Of course," I nodded. "Just sneak in quietly if you two stay up too late."

"I'm ready to crash already," Scott informed us. "So, we won't be up much later."

"Okay. Well, goodnight boys," I waved as I headed towards the door. "Thank you for a lovely day."

They chorused a goodnight back to me before I walked down the hall.

-

I was just coming out of the en suite in Chris' bedroom after brushing my teeth when Chris strolled into the room.

"Hey," I smiled. "Ready for bed already?"

"Scott wasn't lying," he returned my smile. "He was half asleep by the time you made it down the hall."

I laughed as I crawled into bed and settled against the pillows.

"Well, it has been a busy day."

Chris agreed as he grabbed his pyjama pants and headed to the bathroom. I picked up my phone from where I left it on the nightstand, turned off the lamp on my side of the bed and answered a few text messages from my family, figuring I may as well wait the few minutes it would take Chris to get ready for bed before I attempted to get any sleep. When Chris reappeared, I locked my phone again, put it back on the nightstand and snuggled down under the blankets, trying not to stare too much at his chiselled torso. He wasted no time turning off the lamp on his side as well before slipping in next to me, shivering dramatically as he pulled the blankets up over his chest.

"It's so freakin' cold tonight."

I snorted a laugh, shaking my head even though I knew he wouldn't be able to see me until our eyes adjusted to the dark.

"Maybe if you put on a shirt you wouldn't feel it so much."

"Honestly," Chris started, the smirk evident in his tone despite his face still being hidden in shadow. "Usually, I just sleep naked so these pants are for your benefit."

I felt my cheeks flush as the words 'then by all means, take them off' were on the tip of my tongue. I forced them out of my mind as a long forgotten tingle rolled through my body and I focused on answering him.

"My point was that a t-shirt would provide you with extra warmth," I explained. "So, your point that you usually wear less clothing makes no sense."

The bed shifted slightly as Chris chuckled.

"Well, I can think of another thing that could provide some extra warmth."

"What?"

I felt my heart rate pick up, the blood rushing through my ears so fast that I hardly heard myself answer him as I wondered if he could possibly be implying what it seemed like he was implying.

"You." His voice was low, the same seductive tone he'd used all those years ago, and I felt my mouth go dry. "Come give me a cuddle."

For a moment, I thought I was a lot drunker than I'd realized and that I was hallucinating or in some kind of lucid dream, but that thought brought me to a different realization.

"Chris!" I whispered, my tone scolding and accusatory. "You're drunk!"

A burst of laughter came from the other side of the bed and I quickly shushed him, knowing Grayson was asleep in the room above us.

"I'm not drunk, I promise," Chris assured me as his raucous laughter came under control. "I just thought it was worth a shot. It's nice to have a little cuddle with a beautiful woman sometimes."

I felt another flush of heat run through me, but I rolled my eyes and, as I had the night before, I took a pillow and placed it between us, drawing a clear line in the sand even if that hadn't worked out so well the last time.

"Goodnight, Chris."

"Goodnight, Whitney."

I rolled over, closed my eyes and tried to sleep.

I did try. I really, really did.

But after almost ten minutes of thoughts whirring through my head, I knew it was hopeless and I turned back to face Chris. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the dark, I could see well enough to know that he was laying on his back so I carefully moved the pillow that I'd placed between us and slowly slid over towards him. I felt him tense so I knew he was awake, but he didn't question what I was doing so I continued until my head was on his chest and my arm was draped over his stomach. He stayed perfectly still, just long enough for me to start second guessing myself before he shifted slightly to put his arm around me.

We stayed like that, holding each other in silence, and I had to admit that Chris was right. It was nice to have someone to cuddle with. The physical contact was filling a hole in my touch-starved heart and I tried not to think about how fleeting of a moment it was or how things would be back to normal in the light of day. There was a strange ache in my heart at that thought and I knew I needed to get out of my head.

"Chris?" My voice was soft, just in case he'd drifted off in the last few minutes, but when he tightened his grip on me, I knew he was still awake. "Thank you for inviting me today."

"Of course." He squeezed a little tighter. "I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner."

"It's fine," I assured him, letting my hand lazily trace patterns on his skin. "You're under no obligation, you're allowed your time with Grayson without me."

"It's not about obligation. I'd never want you to spend Christmas alone even if Grayson wasn't in the picture."

"I was really dreading it."

My admission made me feel vulnerable as I'd spent so long trying to pretend that I wasn't bothered by the idea of a lonely holiday, but Chris didn't seem surprised.

"Really?" He questioned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "The crying onto your steering wheel didn't give that away at all."

"Shut up," I mumbled, turning my face into his chest to hide my smile at his teasing. "I'm just trying to express my gratitude for your kindness."

"No gratitude is needed. It's been my pleasure having you here today and Grayson loved it."

He kissed the top of my head after he'd finished speaking and almost reflexively, I found myself stretching up and placing a soft kiss of my own against his collarbone. It felt intimate and the moment hung heavy between us. It felt right to me, but I knew instantly that I'd crossed a line. A comforting kiss on the top of my head was one thing, but what I'd done, kissing his bare chest, was inappropriate. My cheeks burned as I tilted my head up to look at him, meeting his eyes as they looked down at me. His expression was unreadable so I opened my mouth to apologize only to be completely shocked when he pressed his head forward and his lips against mine.

The shock quickly morphed into a feeling that could only be described as euphoria. There was something distantly familiar about the way his mouth moved on mine, but it felt strange and new as it wasn't exactly as I'd remembered - and I had spent more time than I'd want to admit reliving the last time we'd shared a kiss like this.

It wasn't until he pressed his tongue against my lips, in an attempt to deepen the kiss, that I snapped out of my daze.

"Chris, wait," I breathed out as I pulled away and stared up at him, my cheeks now flushed much more from excitement than embarrassment. "We shouldn't do this."

"Says who?"

The little voice in my head telling me that I'm about to ruin everything that we've worked hard to create. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but as he smirked down at me and licked his lips as if he was preparing for what was to come, I found myself incapable of logic and reason.

"Doesn't matter."

Chris hardly had time to acknowledge my answer before I dove back in for another kiss, moving to a more comfortable position as I straddled his waist.

He completely overwhelmed my senses. The inescapable scent of him surrounding me, the feel of his strong body between my thighs and the soft little sighs of enjoyment that he kept making every time our lips parted for us to take a breath. None of it was doing anything to ease the ache that was growing between my legs and my hands gripped into the sheets where they rested just above his shoulders as I pulled back to look down at him. I needed to see his face to remind myself this was really happening and who it was really happening with as it still felt so unreal.

Chris smiled up at me, his lips looking plumper already, and let his hands settle on my hips to keep me steady.

"You okay?"

I nodded and leaned down to peck his lips again before answering.

"I've never been better."

Chris' smile only widened at that confirmation and he moved his hands down to cup my bum, pressing my hips forward and giving me a moment of friction that I'd been desperately craving. I pressed myself up, pulling my upper body away from him as a gasp fell from my lips and my eyes squeezed shut. I was embarrassingly aroused from a few mere minutes of kisses, but it had been a very long time since I'd had any physical contact with a man and my body was already on fire.

I rocked my hips against the toned muscles of his abdomen, soaking in the pleasure that was radiating through me and I was debating whether it would be rude of me to continue until I reached the release that was quickly building inside me. Clearly, Chris was just as intuitive as I remembered as he let out a groan and effortlessly flipped us over so he was on top.

"Not like that," he smirked. "I've been thinking about this for too long, it's not happening like that."

I felt another flush of embarrassment as he could obviously tell what I'd been thinking about doing, but I nodded in agreement.

"But if this is really happening, we need to be quiet," I reminded him. "Everyone's sleeping."

"They're all upstairs, they won't hear," he assured me. "And Scott's on the other side of the house."

He was right, we'd be fine as long as we kept ourselves under control, but it didn't matter anyway as all my doubts disappeared when his lips pressed against my neck. I let my hands slide around his waist, resting on his toned back while his lips continued their trail down my neck and stretched the neck line of my shirt to expose my shoulder. His lips locked onto one spot just above my collarbone, sucking and nipping until I was sure there would be a bruise there in the morning.

"Chris," I gasped out, digging my fingernails into his back. "Don't leave a mark."

He backed off a bit, kissing gently against the now sensitive skin.

"It'll be easy to hide," he assured me. "And if I remember correctly, you enjoyed a few bites here and there..."

He opened his mouth to dig his teeth into my shoulder and an image flashed into my mind. A memory of me, bent over with Chris' thumb on my clit as the two fingers he had inside me stroked a particularly delicate spot. He'd placed a soft kiss on the cheek of my bum before sinking his teeth into my skin, sending me over the edge.

I couldn't help, but moan from the combination of the memory and the sensation of his teeth in my shoulder as my hips pressed up against his. Chris seemed to be spurred on by that action as he ground his hips against mine and quickly let his hands slide down to the bottom of my shirt. He lifted it up and for a moment I was lost in the bliss of the sensations he was providing, but as my shirt was raised just past my belly button, I froze.

"Wait!"

My voice firm and demanding and he immediately responded, stopping his actions and looking up to meet my eyes.

"What's wrong?"

I bit my bottom lip as I pondered how to voice my concerns. If I didn't say anything, there was a chance that we could get through this without drawing any attention to it, but I couldn't help but think it was better to point it out than have Chris notice on his own.

"I just..." I breathed out, trying to figure out how to articulate my thoughts. "I just look different now."

"What?"

Chris pulled back even further, looking down at me with genuine confusion in his eyes and my cheeks burned as I tried to puzzle out how to explain my feelings in a way that didn't make me look shockingly insecure.

"Since I had Grayson, since the last time we did this," I clarified, my cheeks burning as I brought my flaws to his attention. "I look different. Like, I have stretch marks and my boobs aren't as perky as they used to be."

Even in the dark shadows of the room, I could see Chris' jaw clench as it did when he was annoyed and trying to bite his tongue. Panic flooded through me as I wished I'd kept my mouth shut, but his next words astounded me.

"Get outta here," he huffed. "You think I care about that?"

I dropped my gaze to the tattoos on his chest as I regretted ever opening my mouth.

"I don't know," I admitted. "Lots of men probably would."

Chris moved back, slowly sliding his body down, away from mine and I wanted to scream, I wanted to stop him and hold him against me as long as I could, but I was powerless to do anything, but watch. My heart sank, thinking he was going to roll off of me any minute now, but then he stopped. His face was level with my lower stomach and turned his eyes back towards my face.

"This body," he started, placing a kiss on my stomach. "This stomach, these stretch marks." He kissed the faint lines that were now barely visible on my skin despite how vibrant they were in my mind. Then he continued up, lifting my shirt as he went until it was resting above my breasts, my nipples hard from the chill in the air and the anticipation I was feeling. "These boobs." He kissed and nipped at the delicate skin, tracing all the way along until he captured a nipple in his mouth, teasing it briefly with his tongue. "They changed because you gave me my son, the greatest gift you could have given me. I have nothing, but gratitude for that and you're still the most fuckin' beautiful woman I've ever seen."

He was exaggerating. I knew he was exaggerating. He saw and worked with Hollywood's most elite actresses and models, there was no chance that I was even close to the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. But he managed, again, to push all doubts from my mind as his lips set to work, this time focusing on my left nipple while he shifted his weight and freed a hand to stroke and pinch the right.

They were sensitive, they always had been, and the way that Chris was working them right now was almost too much. My head fell back and my hands dropped to the sheets as I tried to focus on enjoying the sensations and not immediately demanding for Chris to move lower, to give me more, to touch me where I wanted to be touched with increasing need. He was always paying attention though and before I even needed to voice my request, he let his mouth slip from my nipple and trail back down my stomach.

He nipped at the skin just above my pyjama pants before hooking his fingers in the waistband and pulling them down. I tugged my shirt over my head at the same time before laying back against the pillow, completely naked underneath him.

"Beautiful."

He'd muttered the word, almost more to himself than to me, but the sincerity in his voice flooded a new kind of warmth through my body. I tried to push it down, focusing on what we were doing, what this was and all it could be. Because yes, I loved Chris, but this wasn't that. This wasn't making love, this was a simple release of sexual tension. I didn't need my feelings getting in the way and making this complicated or I was going to get myself hurt.

I'd been so lost in my head that I hadn't noticed how my legs had fallen apart for Chris to settle between them or how he'd spread me with his fingers, opening me up for him to enjoy. It wasn't until I felt a slow, gentle lick right over my clit that I snapped back into the moment. With a gasp, my hips pressed up to meet his mouth, trying frantically to keep the friction now that it was finally there.

"Easy," Chris warned me, chuckling as he pulled back slightly, earning a whine from me. "We'll get you there, don't worry."

A feeling of desperation was building up inside of me and as he blew gently on the very sensitive parts of me that were in front of him, I was about ready to start begging.

"Please," I whimpered, moving my hand to his hair in case he got any bright ideas about pulling back any further, but I was relieved when he let out a groan and finally gave up on his teasing.

Suddenly I was aware of nothing, but Chris' mouth on me. My back arched as he licked up from the bottom of my core to the top, swirling his tongue around, exploring every little nook and cranny before settling his focus back on my clit. It was like he'd studied me, like he'd committed our previous brief encounter to memory and remembered exactly what I responded to as he licked and sucked with just the right amount of pressure and speed to have me panting as my grip tightened in his hair.

It had only been moments, but I could already feel the pressure building inside me, bubbling closer towards the surface. Chris, as if sensing this, eased off just slightly to slide his tongue a bit lower, pressing it against my entrance, dipping just barely inside, before replacing it with one of his fingers. I felt myself clench at the sensation, my body desperate for relief, desperate for something more inside me and Chris obliged, adding a second finger almost immediately.

"So wet, baby," he hummed, placing a kiss on the inside of my upper thigh.

I was too wrapped up in my own pleasure to formulate any kind of response, but Chris didn't bother waiting for one anyway before putting his lips back on my clit. The combination of his fingers and his mouth had me seeing stars and another whimpered plea slipped from my lips as he flicked his tongue against me. He was focused and determined, groaning against me after a particularly sharp tug on his hair when he angled his fingers inside me to find that one particular spot that made me see stars.

He stroked it once. Then twice. And on the third that coil that had been tightening inside me snapped. I covered my mouth with my free hand just in time to bite down and muffle the scream that Chris pulled from me as my hips thrust up towards him and I spasmed around his fingers as I fell over the edge.

Chris coaxed me through it, easing his attentions as I came down from the high I was feeling. He slid his fingers out of me, looking up to meet my eyes before licking them clean. I groaned, feeling myself twitch with arousal at the sight despite my heart still racing from the orgasm I had just had. He flashed me a smirk before crawling up my body and pressing his lips against mine again.

I sighed happily into the kiss, letting my hands slide down his back, just teasing the top of his pants as I reluctantly separated our mouths.

"Take these off."

My tone left little room for argument and Chris looked down at me with a smirk.

"Yes, ma'am."

He lifted his body off of mine just long enough for me to shiver from the loss of the warmth he was providing, but he quickly returned once his pants were discarded. He stayed slightly lower when he returned, turning his attention back to my chest, taking my left nipple in his mouth this time and using his hand to tease the other. My eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, but I fought the urge to simply lie back and let him do what he wanted with me. I wanted more, I needed more and I didn't want to wait any longer.

"Chris," I whined. "Please, fuck me."

Looking down, I could see his eyes widen in surprise at my blunt demand. He let his mouth slip off my nipple before giving it one last little nip, just hard enough to make me gasp from the slight twinge of pain.

"As you wish."

He reached down between us, taking a moment to slip his two fingers back inside me. He spread them out, gently stretching me and I was grateful. From my memory, Chris was thick and it had been approximately three years and five months since I last had sex (not that I was counting).

Once Chris was satisfied that I was adequately prepared, he pulled his fingers back and guided the tip of his cock towards my entrance. I tried to relax as he slowly stretched me open, but even as my mind revelled in the bliss I was feeling, a thought hit me that made my eyes widen and body stiffen.

"Chris!" I gasped out, gripping his shoulders to push him away slightly. "Condom!"

His head dropped down and he grunted as if he was using the last of his restraint to pull out of me.

"Shit," he cursed. "How could we forget that again?"

"I guess we don't learn from our mistakes," I smiled, despite the pang in my heart as the voice in my head chimed in again to say 'clearly not or you wouldn't be about to fuck him and break your own heart again'. "Do you have one?"

Chris nodded, rolling off me for just long enough to reach over to the bedside table. He pulled one out of the drawer, ripped it open and slid it on with impressive speed before crawling back over me.

"Now," he smirked. "Where were we?"

He looked down as he guided himself inside me again. The initial stretch wasn't as intense the second time around, but it grew as he pushed deeper and my breath hitched once he was fully inside. Chris stilled, sensing my discomfort as he dropped his head to kiss along my jaw until his lips rested just below my ear.

"You good?"

"Mhmm," I nodded, breathing out and shifting my hips as I started to adjust. We stayed like that, connected but still, for a few moments until I felt the tension ease a bit. "You can move."

"You sure?" Chris looked at me with concern on his face, but I nodded.

That was all the reassurance he needed as he began slowly moving his hips. He pulled his lips back from where they rested near my ear and pressed them against mine.

He kissed me deeply, passionately, as he created a steady rhythm, sliding in and out with his hips pressing hard against mine with each thrust. His biceps bulged and strained to support his weight through the movement and he eventually let his mouth fall away from mine as he could no longer hold back a groan. That noise, and the grunts that followed, made me twitch around him as if my body was doing everything it could to keep him inside me, to keep the pleasure that it had been craving for so long.

I could feel him dragging against every inch inside me, brushing against every nerve and stretching me just enough to keep me constantly impressed by how big he was. It was somehow too much, but not enough all at the same time and I hitched my leg higher up on his waist to help him get closer, deeper, if at all possible.

"Good girl..."

Chris' words hummed encouragingly against my collarbone where he placed another soft kiss before pulling back. He placed his hand on the back of my knee and lifted it even higher, opening me up for him even more.

My head dropped back against the pillow on the next stroke as his cock slid against that delicious spot inside me where his fingers had been only minutes before. He was watching, looking down between us to see me wrapped around him, see me taking him all the way every time he pushed in. I could hear him mumbling praises, compliments about how well I was doing, but I was too far gone, too wrapped up in the pleasure emanating from between my legs to do anything, but moan in response.

He slowed for a moment, leaning down, my leg catching on his shoulder and pressing it even higher as he reminded me to be quiet. He nipped my ear lobe, pulling a whimper from my lips before moving back and picking his pace up again. I knew he was right, but it was hard, next to impossible even, to hold back the noises that were bubbling in my throat.

I bit my lip and dug my nails into his skin as I attempted to control my volume and silently cursed Chris when he shifted his weight just enough to put the pressure of each thrust back on just the right spot. He moved his thumb down to brush over my clit, but it barely took a few strokes for me to fly over the edge.

It felt like my whole world exploded as I clenched around him, a low moan slipping past the lip between my teeth. The tingle ripped through every part of my body, every muscle quivering with pleasure, as Chris picked up the pace even more, with one final burst of speed until he stilled, letting out a deep, rumbling groan of his own before pumping in and out a few final times.

Once he'd stopped his movements completely, he let my leg lower to the bed, collapsing against my chest as he fought to catch his breath. I drifted my hand up to stroke the damp hairs on the back of his neck and soaked in the blissful feeling, a feeling I'd dreamt about since the last time I had the pleasure of enjoying it.

We stayed like that for a few moments until Chris reluctantly pulled back, letting out a soft groan as he slid out of me.

"I'll be right back."

I admired Chris' ability to walk already as all I had the strength to do was nod and shift back to my side of the bed. When Chris reappeared a few minutes later after disposing of the condom in the bathroom, I could barely keep my eyes open. He climbed back under the blankets and shifted over towards me until he could pull me right against his chest with our legs intertwined.

"That was nice," I sighed happily, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms as I nuzzled my nose into his toned pecs.

They shook as he chuckled and a giggle slipped from my lips as well.

"It was," he agreed, kissing the top of my head the same way he had at the start of this little rendezvous.

There was a heaviness in the air, the underlying unspoken words and the conversation that needed to be had hung between us, but I couldn't bring myself to ruin the moment. I'd spent so much time thinking about this, what it would be like to be in his arms again, I couldn't bare to say anything that might make him pull away and snap out of the moment of insanity we'd slipped into.

So, I didn't and neither did he. With one final, gentle kiss goodnight, we stayed tightly in our embrace until we drifted off into a contented sleep.

-

Part Three

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans x ofc #chris evans smut #once bitten twice shy

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with MustangSally

MustangSally has 33 stories at Gossamer. Even if you haven’t read it, you’ve probably heard of at least one of them, Iolokus, since it’s an X-Files fanfic classic. All her fics hit big and are well worth your time. I’ve recced some of my favorites here before, including And Dance by the Light of the Moon, All the Children are Insane, and Iolokus. Big thanks to MustangSally for doing this interview.

What's the story behind your pen name?

I could tell you but then I would have to kill you.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Yes and no. Yes, because life has moved on since the early nineties and the characters and the fans are in vastly different places now. Our current tech would make the premise of the X-Files impossible. No, because of the longevity of some of the Star Trek TOS work (there’s an archive of hard copy fanzines at the University of Iowa). Top-drawer authors started out in TOS fandom.

I’m just greatly saddened that my physical body is showing wear and tear while the fic doesn’t. Fic gets to stay smooth-skinned and muscular, captured at the peak of perfection.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

At the risk of sounding atrociously trite, I think of the friends I made.  I met some very remarkable women that I’ve been able to stay friends with online for over twenty-five years.  We may have moved to Facebook and post entirely too much about our pets and which of our body parts has sagged this week, but we’re friends.  It’s a furiously funny, feminist, and well-educated group of women with jobs in the highest levels of academia, finance, communications, and media.  I’m amused by the fact that if I have a question about how a virus replicates, I can ask a PhD I’ve been drunk with in Las Vegas.

Back in the day, I had a job that sent me traveling around major cities in the US and UK. I could post on a message board and within ten minutes there were people I could go out for dinner and drinks with. We already knew we had something we could talk about for at least a couple of hours. Additionally, most of these people were women so there was an added level of security. Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Well, it was mostly atxc and the Yahoo! groups mailing lists that spiraled out into Geocities sites and, eventually, LiveJournal. The amusing thing is that getting in on the ground floor of social media and the Internet has helped me get jobs!  When I look at a new piece of software, I think, ‘this is hella easier than uploading to Geocities.’  We had to walk uphill both ways, in the snow, on dial-up, fighting off dinosaurs with our AOL CDs while writing HTML code. What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

DO NOT FEED THE TROLLS.

The past four years in politics have basically been the ugliest online kerfuffle the world has ever seen. I survived the Shipper Wars of ’96 and I thought those were brutal, but that was NOTHING. The only way to win an argument online is to not have the argument at all. Arguing with a troll is like mudwrestling a pig: You both get filthy and only the pig is happy.

Also, READ THE FUCKING TERMS OF SERVICE.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I had the most terrible straight-girl crush on Scully. I wanted to be her best friend, I wanted to BE her.  I wanted to order Chinese food and paint each other’s nails and talk about bones.  Scully and Princess Leia and I could all just hang out poolside with hot and cold running waiters and poolboys, drink margaritas, and bitch about how unfair it all was – if the stupid men would just get OUT OF THE WAY AND LET US DO OUR JOBS, the world would be so much better. What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

This question is really about Iolokus, isn’t it?  You can’t fool me. [Lilydale note: I can neither confirm nor deny the motivation for this question, but I cannot complain about the answer.]

Simply put, I was enraged. The moment it was revealed that Scully’s ova had been used in experimentation, I lost my feminist mind. It was the most obscene defilement imaginable.  Scully wasn’t nearly as angry as I was.  What I thought needed to happen was for Scully to become a fiery force of vengeance against the MEN who had done this to her.  Clearly, I was not going to get that level of satisfaction from the show, as I was imagining Kali-like carnage on a global scale. I emailed RivkaT (whom I did not know well at that point) with a proposition that we work together. Strangely enough, we didn’t meet face to face until we were well into the project, but we did talk on the phone quite a bit. The rules were simple – everyone had to be punished in truly horrific ways, and at some point, we had to see if we could write a car chase (only because that seemed impossible).  Then it basically turned into a very twisted game of chicken to see who could be the most outrageous in terms of killing people off or writing really horrific things that fit within the structure of the narrative.  I did, in the end, write the car chase, but RivkaT one-upped me by throwing in a helicopter (a FOX News helicopter, at that).  

Really, RivkaT?  A helicopter? What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom? I am terribly proud of what I wrote, pleased that it brought pain and pleasure in equal amount to people, and, again, thrilled by the people I became friends with. I admit that I stopped watching the show when Scully announced her pregnancy.  I could only see a long jump over a shark tank for the rest of the series. I haven’t watched the new episodes, either.  It is complete in my mind and doesn’t need to be continued.  I wouldn’t say no to having a reunion with some of my fic friends, although we’re still chatting online like everyone does.   Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Rivka and I wrote in the Buffy fandom for a few years, but then we moved on to real adult jobs that left absolutely no time for me to write. I’m in education, and I regularly sweat blood for fear that someone is going to find my old fic. The Buffy people were fun; there was a certain *shininess* to them that I really enjoyed. The X-men authors were just batshit and delightful, and some amazing stuff came out of Marvel fandom, particularly in the Thor/Loki and Steve/Bucky subgenres. I’ve learned to appreciate a good coffee shop AU and one famous Erik/Charles fic where all the main characters are crabs. Seriously, crabs—it’s hysterical. [Lilydale note: Other Crabs Cannot Be Trusted by groovyphilia currently has almost 2,500 kudos at AO3.]

Every few years, I’ll have a student try to explain to me what fandom is and I just smirk. Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? No. Not really. Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom? I fell into an X-Men hole a few years back and had a great old time wallowing in the Cherik muck, and there was a flirtation with BBC Sherlock as well. Strangely enough, I became interested in A/B/O fics only because of what they were saying about the role of women in our society. The limitations on the male omegas seem absurd and then you realize those are the same limitations put on women all. the. time.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

RivkaT very nicely formatted everything and put it up on AO3. What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I will always be stupidly proud of how shocked and horrified people were by Iolokus. The truth of the matter is that Iolokus has Greek drama at its core. Scully is Medea, and the entire story is lousy with “blood on the threshing floor” and Dionysian rites. The everyday is subverted into horror, and wives and daughters will tear men limb from limb like the Maenads. Since I was ultimately disappointed with what Chris Carter did with the entire show, that approach seemed appropriate.

At a certain level, all fic is corrective fic.  Like critic Anne Jamison said, “Irritated fans produce fanfic like irritated oysters produce pearls.”  And because fic has fallen so much into women’s sphere, a pure form of correction is not just the death of the author but the MURDER, a new creation springing up from the spilled blood like Cadmus sowing dragon’s teeth.

Okay, that’s a bit much. Maybe I should just take myself back to the isle of Goth Amazons or something. Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I had to write a self-evaluation and a reflection on pedagogy today. If that’s not fiction, I don’t know what the fuck is.

All my creativity is caught up in trying to pretend to be a normal middle-aged white woman so no one knows I am really a lizard.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Keep writing, keep reading, keep fighting the commercialization of narratives. As things grow more and more commodified, all our dreams and desires reduced to tchotchkes made in China, it’s a revolutionary act to separate your work from the marketplace. Be bold, take chances, turn the trope on its ear and kick it in the ass. Take everything the creators have done to make a work palatable to the unwashed masses and set it on fire.

Be subversive.

Be mean.

Have a great fucking time.

(Posted by Lilydale on March 2, 2021)

#old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #mustangsally