#a good one. but an acid trip all the same

[drchucktingle]

POUNDED BY DR. GLOBUS

wanted to post today about recent health journey of chuck. ALL STARTED at texas show when i began to feel tightness in throat. i have learned this is called GLOBUS which is a tingler character name if ive ever heard one. got through appearance and had blast but felt terrible

plane journey home was even worse. first thought i strained my voice, then tested for covid (negative) and then figured it was just some kind of virus. had running nose and hoarse and extreme pain behind face and MOST of all this golf ball throat

figured i would get better as viruses tend to go but I DID NOT. after a few weeks went to way of urgent care and they took one look and said you have EXTREME FORM OF ACID REFLUX called laryngopharyngeal reflux (also great tingler character name)

basically this is when your stomach acid comes all the way back up into your throat and erodes it. they immediately put me on medications name of pepcid plus tums plus gaviscon and on and on. was inhaling a dang pharmacy every morning

problem is, NO CHANGE. in fact it started getting worse. in addition to previous symptoms i now couldnt keep any food down. upset stomach all the time. could barely sleep. plus it is scary to have a sickness that gets WORSE over time like this

more doctor talks. i up doses of medication to combat sickness but does not seem to work. one night wake up and think 'dang i need to go to er my stomach is going to just melt or something' (keep in mind because i cant keep food down i am always hungry too).

i go to hospital and they say 'WHOA we need to intervene right now we are doing some tests and putting you on SERIOUS LIFE CHANGING MEDICINE. but here is catch to do the tests we need you to stop all your medication for 48 hours and it will be HECK but you gotta do it bud'

so i stop all medication in preparation for new SICK LIFE and suddenly… i start feeling better. not just a little but after weeks of this awful way i wake up in ONE DAY and feel fully cured. now heres twist: at the same time this was happening I started taking allergy medicine

you may already know where i am going with so i will just hit you with it. my INITIAL SICKNESS was just extreme seasonal allergies that required nothing more than claritin and flonase. however i was misdiagnosed with ACID REFLUX and medication was making my stomach a wasteland

the second i stopped taking acid reflux meds and started on allergy trot i was better almost instantly. today i feel HECKIN GREAT. (SIDE NOTE: after 4 years of chronic pain i am so thankful to not have some OTHER long term health trot to deal with. DANG)

so what is lesson here? first of all please do not think this is in ANY WAY anti-doctor rant or anti-medicine. my doctors were trying their best and made a mistake, they are just people. ALSO while acid reflux medicine made me sick, allergy meds made me better. i am SO fortunate

but what is REALLY fortunate is that chuck is covered under SWEET BARBARAS HEALTH CARE (she gets very good coverage under the frozen lake). most artist buckaroos, even WILDLY successful ones, do not have health care which is huge issue that should be talked on more.

point is EVERYONE should have healthcare. this whole adventure was bad, but it also only cost me 50 dollars. hundreds of thousands of other buckaroos would have to deal with this PLUS it would completely upend their life to cover medical expenses because of a SIMPLE MISTAKE

so that is my story, usually there is more of a lesson to these rants but this one is really just ‘dang what a trip.’ so grateful for my health and my way and the fact i can get simple allergy medicine over the counter. most of all THANKFUL FOR MY BODY it is such a treat to exist

thank you for reading and remember to advocate for yourself and your feelings both BODY and MIND at the doctor. listen to your trot and do not forget that LOVING YOURSELF AND THE SYSTEMS OF YOUR BODY proves love just as much as loving others. trot on buckaroos

#buckaroo lifestyle #health

[riaki]

ur highschool bully gojo was chefs kiss 💋 what do u think about them going to the same college and taking the same classes?? and the reader sitting next/talking to some other guy and satoru gets jealous?? arwahhhshdhshshs so many possibilities, i hope u continue writing it!!

hi nonnie !! thank you so much :) this is ur official part 2 ! i was struggling to think up some possibilities but this helped a lot :oo | read part 1 here ! -> cw: swearing, jealousy, i let it get fic length oops

(former) highschoolbully!gojo on the brain again… like. when you end up seeing him again however many months later, and you can tell that he’s changed. it’s not like its immediately obvious to anyone who doesn’t really know him like you (used to); but he’s a little softer-spoken and his smiles seem nine times more genuine. it’s not a hundred percent; the kind that really lights up his face instead of just barely falling short of his stark blue eyes, but it's something.

of course, you have nothing to base it off of, because when you do inevitably see him again it's the very definition of meet ugly.

college is a new frontier, but its also a clean slate. its your first time going into something so new without your old bestfriend at your side, but some faint flickering thought reminds you that it might be better that way. but the universe is against you from the very first day, when youre gettin yourself some coffee from the same chain you did the morning of that fateful presentation so many moons ago. you're too busy thinking to yourself what kind of strange parting ritual it is to relive your trauma to notice the lanky, white-haired boy who hits his head on the chiming bell over the doorway. people are giggling around you n sighing dreamily but youre too deep in the music pumping through your headphones to notice and your eyes are glued to the class schedule on your phone, trying to ensure you dont get lost on the first day when—

you blink and your ass is flat on the dirty floor of the coffee shop, and the first thing you register is that your stomach is soaked and burning. you'd spilled your coffee. it takes you a moment to realize, but when you do you're pissed. so you quickly get to your feet, trying to reign in what little of your ego you have left to give the offender who bumped into you a piece of your mind as you look up, then..

how unlucky do you have to be?

just like that, satoru's slid himself back into your life, after ramming through its locked gates. you forget that he always forgets the point of keys, both when it comes to his apartment (which you still have the spare key of in case of emergencies), and the door to your heart. to rub salt in the wound, the only thing that's stained with your coffee order are his shoes, which look like they cost three weeks of your old job salary, but it's all over your shirt. of course it is. because why not? make it look like you tripped and fell into a patch of mud on your way to the lecture hall and tack on an unwelcome reunion with your ex-bestfriend.

to you, it's like the cloud of gloom from your highschool youth has resettled over your head like a swarm of gnats on a dreary, hot summer day. the stars always seem to skew and misalign themselves for you. but for satoru, the stars have handed him one of those huge swirly lollipops that you only ever see being paraded about by toddlers. he recovers almost instantly, trading the burn on his feet and the way it sours your expression like he's just squirted pure citric acid into your throat for a pleasant burn of his own on his cheeks. but it's whatever. girls seem to like it when he blushes, for some reason. he won't question it, if it works on the only one he cares about.

he holds his hand out, ready to help you out like the good samaritan he's become— and it's like a real burn to his heart this time when you ignore it and stand up on your own, refusing to look up and meet his pleading gaze. might as well have taken an iron stoker right out of the fire and jabbed him with it. but he's gojo satoru! he won't be defeated by this one mere, maybe very significant reunion. he's got stamina.

so he offers to buy you a new drink, feels his heart sink when you shake your head (can't even spare a little 'no' in his direction), and talks enough for the both of you when you leave the dingy little store make your way down to campus and the lecture building. you clearly don't want to see him, but he ignores that in exchange to notice the way you shiver every so often. the previously searing-hot coffee that stains your shirt turns cold fast, and moisture n wind don't mix well. he wishes he could offer you some of his own warm coffee, no doubt sickeningly sweet, but he has some sensitivity now, apparently. so, in a brash moment, he decides to take his blazer off and drape it over your shoulders instead.

when you cross the threshold between city and campus, you expect him to yank it off your back and be on his merry way. but he keeps walking next to you, so you walk a little faster, and you absolutely loathe the cheeky little grin that curves the corners of his lips up to show a glint of teeth when he effortlessly keeps up. you curse his long legs when you find yourself winded, but at least you can lose him when you get there.

or, that's what you think. once again, your constellations break themselves to rebuild anew for satoru. you're about to call him a stalker when he follows you all the way to your classroom with that smirk that's growing exponentially until— oh, no.

your phone that's been on the schedule up until now desperately scrolls to the roster— and there it is. he's in your class. needless to say, not another word goes between you as you stomp in and take a seat. luckily for you, you've already corresponded with your roommate's brother (who's annoyingly cute, satoru notices) and agreed to sit next to each other. satoru takes the seat right above you and never stops kicking his freakishly long legs against the wood the entire time.

so yeah, it's obvious he's not a saint; he still has that undoable ego and he's cocky as fuck (as you have the misfortune of finding out when he quickly bullies your professor), but there's a certain familiarity in that no matter how ugly it might appear to others. and if you asked (which he really, really hopes you will someday), he doesn't hang around douchebags who use kids' foreheads for ashtrays and treat girls like they're candy from a glittery pez dispenser. and at least he's switched harassment targets. even though he has an overwhelming sense of superiority over others and never has his lips together for more than five seconds, and even though he has this hellish habit of clicking his pen whenever he's not talking (or when someone else is), it seems like he's changed.

and over time, you gradually find yourself warming up to him. the spunkiness that used to get on your nerves ceaselessly becomes an object of endearment, and you don't really mind the way he never seems to stop moving anymore. it's a nice sort of distraction in the lifeless still of the lecture hall, albeit the pen clicking still drives you near insanity. you notice he always does it obnoxiously and quickly when you're talking to your roommate's brother, but you ignore it.

and for satoru? he hates that he can kinda sorta really tell that you're the only one who can read him like he's a damn book, cus you slowly start to soften up in the nostalgia of his presence like cold playdough between warm fingers that tell you he may have finally caught you again after letting you slip the first time. and he notices it. this time, he's determined not to let you be the one that got away again. but youre really giving him a shit time outta it with the way you constantly entertain the guy who always has his breath in your face.

yeah, he's got a cute face that's sunkissed by freckles. yeah, his hair looks like he models for shampoo companies. and fuck, he has a nice voice. but what of it? satoru's the one with the mesmerizing blue irises and the cloudy white hair your professor wishes he had instead of sad little wisps of old age. still, as chilly days turn into frigid weeks, he gets the perfect backseat angle of the growing relationship between the two of you. the boy's kinda dumb so you copy off of satoru’s work when you need to (he has to hide the 1-0 scoreboard between him and the guy on a sticky note from you when you take his notes), but said guy’s always buying you stuff and lending you erasers and laughing when you flick the shavings at the annoying girl who never stops whispering in the front of the room.

satoru tries to act unbothered, and he almost convinces everyone. including himself. but the angry, burning knot in his chest that's entirely different from coffee stains suggests something more. that should be him at your side. him, making balls of paper with rude scribbles and silly doodles to throw at the people he knows you don't like. him, surprising you with little gifts and the cheap trinkets he knows you adore so much instead of all the luxury things he could afford. there's no way this punk could possibly measure up to him, right? but at least you and satoru are well on your way to becoming friends again. not as close as you used to be, but it's something. substantial. and he's learned to be patient in the time you've been gone.

but he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't tired of it. he’s endlessly plagued with thoughts of increasing intensity— first, it starts out with just you. only you. the way he likes it. the way he likes your face, and your pretty eyes and your gorgeous lips and your soft hair and your figure and the complimenting clothes you wear. but it takes a turn; thoughts turn into dreams that turn into fantasies and he's lying when he says he doesn't enjoy them when he accidentally lets it slip during a group study session— and it’s all fine— but then, that guy appears. the brat who seems to sit a centimeter closer to you with each coming day. not only does he haunt satoru in real life, he’s tormenting his dreams, too. tainting the image of beautiful you.

needless to say, satoru starts to wake up with his hands gripping his damp pillow like he's choking it, acutely aware of the sweat sliding down his neck and over his chest as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the dorm's air conditioner run and thinking of what it'd be like for dreams (the ones where he replaces the boy) to become reality.

it's a buildup. and soon, he reaches the apex; it's like a rollercoaster, that stomach-twisting moment when you reach the top of the rail that points to the steep descent downward. but this time, he hopes it's a thrill he gets instead of the usual falling fright; the one he got when he realized he’d slipped between your fingers in highschool.

and satoru finally comes to a grinding halt at the top of the ride one breezy fall day when he decides he wants you back in his life after you smile brightly at him and wave goodbye for the day. he’s tired of you having one foot in and one foot out of his heart; he wants, needs more. he always has, he realizes.

so he’s thinking about you and how to approach the feelings he’s realized during those long lectures, and one morning he comes up with some semblance of a plan when he’s high on the sugar from the fruit tea you bought him that morning. and he hopes that, by the end of it, he'll leave your apartment with your hand in his currently empty one, chilled with the remnants of cold condensation from the bottle.

soon enough, satoru finds himself extinguishing his nerves and raising a tense fist to knock on the door with nothing but the clothes on his back and a flimsy plan to ask you out on a midterm study sesh and maybe even a date, but he stops when he realizes it’s slightly ajar. a brief thought of what look might be on your face when he surprises you crosses his mind, so he lets himself in quietly, because he knows every single floorboard that creaks like the back of his palm from his childhood. he’s hit with a wave of warmth and an achingly familiar scent that twists at his heart, and your apartment is cozy and safe and it screams you and he thinks he catches sight of his jacket slung across the back of the couch in your living room, but he’s not sure so he takes a step forward and—

he’s greeted with the sight of that stupid guy with the nice hair and the freckles, and it makes his heart drop. but even worse, he’s kissing you and his arms are winding around your waist but you’re kissing him back with a slight hesitation that’s blinded to satoru by his shock and the fingers he thought would end up in his own tonight card through the boy’s hair and your lips glisten with the strawberry-kiwi flavored gloss he watched the boy give you a few days back and his world is turning red and he feels like his throat is constricting and he can’t breathe—

and he doesn’t even realize you’ve parted lips and you’re calling his name through the newfound tightness of his chest and the painful ringing in his ears thats even louder than any silence of a lecture hall, or the void that should’ve been filled with your voice during the time you were apart. but now satoru realizes he’d take that any fucking chance to have that again because it’s so much better than what he’s stuck with now. having you, but not really having you, because you’re there but you’re someone else’s and you’re not his and he isn’t yours. the best thing he could ever hope for was for you to own an article of his clothing and a piece of his shattered heart, broken into a million fragments. some cruel voice in his buzzing head reminds him to change the scoreboard to 0-100.

and he could buy you cheap hot coffee or earn your smiles from scrunched up paper balls or even hear your laugh with crude jokes, but there’s no point when he realizes he can’t buy you with caffeine or earn you with hitting the back of people’s heads with his bio notes or have you and your laugh all to himself anymore.

it’s almost pathetic, the way satoru’s voice cracks and changes. the look of unadulterated concern on the face of the boy who stole your lips just adds fuel to the fire.

“gojo? what are you doing here— hey, are you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

he noticed you’d stopped calling him satoru a few weeks back. he should’ve seen it coming.

“huh? oh, yeah. i’m good. i think you’re the one hallucinating.”

he’d never told a bigger lie in his life.

satoru had left after excusing himself for intruding. how very unlike him to be so polite, you think.

so in the end, he leaves your apartment with something in his hand, after all. but it's not your own— just his blazer that you’d given back to him before he stepped out the door, taunting him with the faint scent of coffee and lingering perfume. his hope was foolish, so it seems. it’s too bad, he thinks. if it were him, he would’ve sandwiched you against your counter while he kissed. but it wasn’t. apparently, it was your turn for your stars to align at the price of his.

and so, gojo satoru, the boy force-turned man with a chipped ego and a completely broken heart, loses you again.

bonus bonus.. part 2….

#here u go. yes!! u!!!!!! sorry it got long #thank you guys for the reception on the last part literally checking tumblr religiously the rbs and comments made me feel like floating #yea hes a hopeless loser srry i dont make the rules #ABND I TRIED TO HOLD HERRR but there was nothing i could do to stop her from cutting her beautiful blue hair off 🐐🐐 #gojo satoru #gojo angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #gojo jjk #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #did not proofread b i hope it’s good 🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️ #actually i j realized the coffee campus intro part is similar to another fic i’ve read sorry if u noticed that it was on my subconscious 😞 #billet-doux

[peachesofteal]

Ghoap x reader zombie apocalypse AU? 👀 just gonna leave that here...

Ooh anon you got me with this. Thought about it all night. A full fic of this dynamic in an apocalypse setting would be so good. Sadly, I don't have it in me to write an entire fic for this but I scratched it out as a dead disco au down below on my phone (I took bits and pieces of zombie media and smashed them together as I like):

18+ MDNI / angst, death

It was an accident.

All you had wanted to do was try to find some mushrooms. You knew this part of the woods usually had a fair amount to forage, and you were pretty good at distinguishing the good ones from the not so good ones. You hadn't meant to get distracted.

You knelt down to the forest floor, picking at a piece of bark on a downed log when you heard the rustling, the suspect sound of something moving through the brush near you.

You expected one of the slow ones. The ones that usually found themselves this far from the city, wandering aimlessly, looking for the next meal. Decaying and rotting flesh hanging from their limbs, a sign they had been long infected, the decomposition marking them as something easily escapable.

You did not expect a runner.

You screamed- a huge no no, as Simon had been drilling into your head- when you saw it, far too late, tripping over yourself to try to get away, your hunting knife pressed into the palm of your hand.

You stood little chance against a runner. They were fresh, muscles still intact, lactic acid burning through their bodies, movements fast and sharp, able to take down an entire human in one fell swoop. They even looked like you, still holding their pallor, their posture, their fine motor skills.

Only their minds were gone. Addled by the infection, brains turned to hot mush inside their skulls.

They had one objective.

Eat.

You managed to clear the log, sprinting as fast as you possibly could, trying to take long, deep breaths through your nose just as Johnny taught you.

"More oxygen that way, love. It'll help your endurance, keep you runnin' longer."

They were always doing that now, equipping you for survival. Trying to train you like a solider, teaching you the finer points they thought you should know.

"We're gonna make it, together." Simon had said, the morning they showed up in the middle being away for work, clad in full tactical gear, guns in hand. "As a family."

"Ye have to listen to everything we say, alright darling? Everything's goin' to be okay." Johnny promised at the same time as you tried to pack some essentials into your backpack with trembling fingers.

They were obsessed with trying to instill as much of their knowledge into as possible, trying to prepare you, help you, listing off rules they thought were key, ensuring you knew to follow them.

One being: don't get distracted.

You curse yourself, feet flying underneath your body and heart thrumming in your chest with panic. You're too slow, and you can hear it behind you, sprinting just as fast as you are, preparing to launch and take down it's next meal.

You don't see the snare of brambles until you're in them, nearly slamming to a stop, thorns scratching against your skin as you fight against the thicket. It's too dense, slowing your ability to get away... and the runner is still hot on your heels, working its way through the mess, snapping its jaw like a shark.

Simon comes out of nowhere. One second you're hacking away at the branches and the next, there's a massive, solid warmth at your back, standing between you and the snarling monster. He's facing away from you, brandishing a knife, engaged in a full fight with the runner, taking it to the ground in an attempt to get the blade into its temple. You watch mouth wide, frozen, holding your breath until the job is done, and Simon is hauling himself upwards, pulling you into his arms before stepping back to look you over.

You burst into tears. You've always told them, you're not for this kind of world. You're too gentle, too sensitive. You're a painter, for fucks sake. Not a killer. You're too soft to survive.

They say it doesn't matter. That you can be as soft as you want, because you have them, and they'll be the killers. They'll be the hard ones.

"Did it get you? Let me see, c'mon-" He checks your arms, your neck, the tear on your shirt but finds nothing. "Alright, you're alright." He's telling you, and himself, relief exhaling from his body with each syllable. "You're alright, darling. I've got ya. Come here." He holds you tight, rubbing your back, kissing your cheek, your forehead until you're calm, breathing deeply and wiping your face.

You believe the worst has passed, until you blink up at him, and see the blood on his neck.

The bite.

"We need to make a plan."

"We're nae makin' a bloody plan." Johnny hisses, and Simon closes his eyes like he's tired. "We keep goin'. We'll make it to the rendezvous with Price and they'll have a solution. We dinnae even know how fast it spreads."

Simon lets loose a sigh, heavy with exhaustion. With the toll that this life has become. With the weight, of everything. He tucks you into his body, wrapping his other arm around Johnny, and holds the two of you close. Tightly. Tighter than he ever has before.

"Alright."

The next morning, everything is different.

You woke up last, fire still barely smoldering, little energy bar on the ground next to you. The guys sleeping bags were already rolled up, stacked neatly with Simon's pack, and the long gun that Johnny carries.

But they were nowhere to be found.

Confused, you slid free, stretching with a silent groan, scanning your surroundings until you spot them on the edge of the woods, locked together on their feet, Johnny's face mashed against Simon's neck, strong arms holding him close.

"What's going on?" The question comes out confused when you get close, and Johnny pulls away with wet eyes, hands shaking. What's happening? Why are they both crying? Fear screams through your body, red alert systems firing up as your brain struggles to put all the pieces together.

"Simon-" Johnny begins, but stops abruptly, eyes slamming shut, lips pressed together in agony.

"'m not feelin' too well." Simon explains gently. "You and Johnny are gon’ start on ahead, and 'm gonna stay here for a while." Something, something logical, something smart, is shouting at you from the back of your mind but you shove it away, opting for delusion instead.

"Okay, you're going to catch up though, right? You said. We'll find-" You frowned, looking from him to Johnny as a sick feeling grew in your stomach. "Johnny?"

“Look at me.” Simon combs through your hair with trembling fingers, unsteady for the first time in your entire existence. “I love you, darling. I love you so, so much.”

“S-stop, we're supposed to stay together, you- you said-“

“You have to go with Johnny now, okay? He’s gonna take care of you.” He jerks you forward, closed mouth pressing against your forehead. "I love you."

“No, Si.” You sob, fingers curled in his vest. “You have to come with us. You have to, we’ll fi-find a cure, they’ll be help, somewhere.”

“Johnny.” He chokes, and a strong arm wraps around your waist, Johnny’s heavy, tearful breathing echoing just above your ear. Someone works your fingers free, pulling your hand away but not letting go, holding onto you like a lifeline.

You look up between him, to his face, to Simon’s and realize. They’ve already said goodbye.

Simon strokes the back of his fingers down Johnny’s cheek, tears dripping down his own.

“I love you both, more than anything. More than life.” He squeezes your hand, rubbing a thumb over the back of your knuckles, and then steps away, pulling the handgun from the holster on his thigh. "Take care of each other."

"NO!" you scream, but Johnny is dragging you backwards like a rag doll, away from where Simon stands in clearing, gaze never breaking from the two of you, face wet with tears. "Johnny!"

"Darling-" he chokes out amidst a sob. "Shhh, please. Please." He begs you to be quiet, to hush, but you can't, you can't stop screaming, or fighting him, trying to get back to Simon, to reunite your family, to stay together. You scream and scream until Johnny’s hand claps over your mouth, his own words clogged by his cries, pleading and begging until he's cutting off your oxygen with a desperate apology and lifting you over his shoulder like dead weight.

The last thing you hear before you lose consciousness is the sound of a gunshot.

#peaches asks #peaches writes #ghost x soap x reader #I could be convinced #dead disco zombie au

[ohbo-ohno]

bo, first of all i adore your writing!!

but you've mentioned a few shall we say 'darker themed' books you've read in asks here and there, can you give some recs of your faves?? pretty please??

first of all, i love you! and also yes always, i never mind giving book recs! i sorta ramble under the cut, sorry lol

alright i'll start with the darker romances. these are hard noncon, and depict abusive relationships that aren't always framed as bad. when i say dark i mean dark lmao, always be aware of what you're going itno before you read a dark romance

If you like my fics, I can almost guarantee you'll like Taken by Felicity Brandon. This is about an author who writes dark erotica and gets kidnapped by a fan, who forces her to live out some of her scenes. Includes petplay! I have my issues with the book (and I DNF'd the sequel) but ohhhh the smut is so good

I mentioned them a while back, but Measha Stone's Owned and Protected series is a 6 book series with noncon/dubcon petplay in every single book. Calling these "romance" is a stretch, but god if you like my noncon petplay stuff (and you're alright with reading explicit noncon and forced relationships), you might like these

I haaated the ending of Distorted by Nyla K. but dear fucking god it is a good prison dark romance. Also it is SO Ghoap coded, I would recommend reading the first ~80% of it lmfao

Corrupt Idol by Dinah Harper is the first book in a series that will probably never get finished, but honestly it's pretty good as a standalone. Dark step-brother romance, and I thought the writing (at least in the first half) was so good, I genuinely felt for the FMC at times (even if I was screaming at her)

Ok I'm not confident in this rec because I'm still not suuuuper sure how I feel about this book, but Torment by Dylan Page is a dark step-brother biker romance. The FMC is the MMC's "rock", and the only thing that keeps him from flying off into a violent rage when he's upset, and he develops an unhealthy attachment to her that everyone around them allows because they don't want to deal with him. I never read the second book, but this is another one where you really feel for the FMC

One of my favoriteeee dark A/B/O (specifically the first book) is Born to be Bound by Addison Cane. I would suggest not reading anything past the third book, and I'm not a huuge fan of the side plots, but the stuff with the FMC and MMC is just. God it's the perfect brand of dark A/B/O (in MY head)

I've recommended it before, but for my truly fucked in the head followers - Under His Heel by Adara Wolf is probably the darkest book I've ever read. It's a four book series (and I think the whole thing is worth reading) and it's got every single trigger warning except for (i think) scat, pedophilia, and necrophilia. it has rape, incest that's also rape, extreme body modification (though it's not permanent), severe public humiliation, severe mental torture, and just about 0 aftercare for our MMC. The book follows a man in a far distant future who's working as an indentured servant to pay off his debts & his incredibly sadistic and evil master. These books are far from "for everyone", but if you really want some fucked up romance (with heavy smut) I think these are worth reading!

aaand some softer dark romances. to me, these are books with some lighter kidnapping or soft noncon, abuse in a mental but not physical way, and MMCs who just think they're in the right

Gemma Weir's Montana Mountain Men is like an acid trip and it's kinda crack, but i read all 7 in like a day, so take that as you will. Each book is about a different brother in the same family as they fall in love - except, in this family the men supposedly know who their soulmate is the moment they lay eyes on them. So there's some light kidnapping, some manipulation/unhealthy behavior, and some birth control tampering in these. For what they are, I enjoyed almost all of them lmao

The Darkest Temptation by Danielle Lori is like a kidnapping romance written for non-dark romance readers tbh. It toes the line of noncon/dubcon, and it's definitely a kidnapping romance, but it's really not that dark.

Nicky the Driver by Cate C. Wells is (in my opinion) not as good as the first book in the series, but it's way lighter in terms of darkness level

Shiver by Ella Frank & Brooke Blaine is a stalker romance that fell a little short for me, but was overall enjoyable (iirc lol). It's about a young man who goes into a kink club and attracts the attention of the owner, who then stalks him. I think it just wasn't as dark as I wanted tbh, but if you like lighter dark stuff I think you might like this!

#recs #this got long sorry #asks and answers

[punk-in-docs]

🕷Wolf Men & Secret Heists🕷

Eddie Munson x Reader

9.2k words.

Behind closed doors and locked in shadows. Woven in between all these things, it seems a great burning crush is being harboured in the pair of your huge hearts.

“Hey.” You breathe. You almost sound nervous. You hate that you do.

In the half dark you can see Eddie’s eyes look stunning black. Big pretty tar pits that tug. His grin flicks into white.

“Hey.” He answers back.

Trying not to trip over where he stood. He’s certain you’d be able to hear the way his heart is pounding his ribs so hard, like it’s rattling against the barred window of his bones.

Or;

You and Eddie enjoy a rendezvous in a storage closet at school. Some inevitably dirty stuff happens-

Warning: There is smut in this! Fingering /sex references and all manner of dirty talk. follow the rest of the Super Freak series here-

Heels that click and clack on lino. That’s how you know your friend has arrived. She’s stomping up to your locker and to no one’s surprise- first thing she does?

She whines.

All scary padded shoulders in her bleached denim jacket glittering with rhinestones. Neon blonde hair piled up and bouncing. Plastic pink hoops rattle in her ears.

“My life stinks. I woke up with a zit on my chin. And I think I’m getting a fat ass.” Linda slumps against your locker with a scowl like her world simply must be ending.

“Good morning is the more traditional greeting.” You comment.

Side eyeing her, as you move her aside with your binder, to wrench open your locker. Actually getting some books out to do some learning.

She didn’t even bother to look pleased at the fact you were back and feeling much better- by the way. So nothing much had changed there.

Linda was still her vacuous-poison slinging self. School was the ever steady same. A crush of gossip, hormones, pooling levels of geekdom, and elitist social strata.

Your world was back to rights, so it seemed.

You rummaged in your locker for your weighty English textbooks. Linda shoved a stick of pink gum in her mouth. Shrewdly eyed you up and down as she slowly chewed. Judging you from under those periwinkle eye-shadowed lids. Long flick of mascara on her lashes. Neon pink heavily dusted on her cheekbones.

“Why do you look different?” She asks you with one raised brow. Trying to put her manicured finger on it.

“Do I?” You comment. Knowing full well you do. Maybe you allow yourself a small mercy of a half smile at that.

You’d left your hair down. Sprayed perfume on your wrists and neck again. Prettied up more than you would for school usually. Dare you say it, you’d even put on mascara this morning. Just a little indulgence.

You’d wanted to rectify the situation; the last time he saw you, would leave him the lingering memory of unshaved legs, untamed bed hair, and snoopy shorts. And you probably looked green from being sick.

You felt this outfit was a must, to clear the air. So to speak.

You’d dived submariner level deep into the back of your closet to find this dress. A simple cream button up with red flowers swirled all over. Little cute climbing roses. You wore it with just your white socks and your old sneakers.

Right day for a dress outside. It was that soupy kinda Indiana day that lingered, pressing sunshine down with stuffy mugginess.

You keep the real reason you’d prettied up very close to your chest. She’s already checking her hair in her compact. Despite the fact she probably checked it five seconds ago before climbing out Jonny’s wagon of a car.

“Laundry day?” Linda asked with a staining tone of judgement at the end of her question. Eyes on her own reflection. Not turned to you.

“Yeah.” You beam. Because it was easy to sway her. And that padded lie was far more preferable to the truth. Not that she’d bother at all.

You didn’t, couldn’t, pique her interest unless gossip or bitching was involved. You mainly leave that acidic, razor-studded ball in her court.

You missed the old Linda sometimes. That Linda.

The goof she’d been before High School and it’s noxious halls grabbed a hold of her. She used to love books. Nerdishly so. Always with the books. Wore a bright yellow camp fun time t-shirt and used to adore thrashing around your room to your Romeo Void cassettes. The way she used to chug a coke and burp afterwards cause she didn’t give a shit if it wasn’t ladylike.

Then it was like someone flipped a switch halfway through your freshman year.

Suddenly she was all about what was the right table to sit at. Worried about being visible. Started ranting about cute purses and funky tight pucci tops. The right clothes she went broke trying to buy, to stay current. Cause ew vintage clothes. What the fuck. This isn’t the 70’s anymore grandma.

She compromised instantly on who she would be. She grew up, apparently. You like to think you never did take that full compromise.

You missed the same scruffy kid as you. Joined at the hip like twins. With her mousy brunette and un-permed hair (shocking, unthinkable) the way she wore scuffed muddy kneed jeans and sneakers to school like you, and boys had been a distant and irritating spec on her radar.

The way she got more and more hung up on hot pink nail polish, hormones and chasing after scoring beer and trashy sex. How she’d rather be flipping through glossy fashion magazines and gossip columns than her actual studies.

Your friend, who she was in the before, would have been straight round to you like a shot, once upon a time if you’d been sick. Or not at school for even one class. She’d whine at you, and irritate, until you felt better.

She’d have slung her ass over to yours in an instant, burst through the door to raid your fridge. Sat criss cross applesauce on your bedroom carpet throwing flowery pillows and your teddies at you, because she was bored at school on her own. And how dare you-

Now all she wanted to do was pop pink bubbles of gum on the sidelines of her boyfriends basketball games, and natter away to preppy airhead cheerleaders, rather than put any effort into her own life.

She became the bitchy stooge you’d always sworn to hate when you were little kids. Erecting makeshift tents in your bedrooms and telling ghost stories.

No rectifying it now. She’s in way too over her permed head. Drawn to the dark side.

Her life now is lipsticks, new mini skirts, and blowjobs. And she revolves around her thug boyfriend like one of Jupiter’s moons. Heaven forfend she ever falls out of orbit.

You mourn it for a second. Looking at her inspecting her one very small zit, probing a finger to it, like its satan’s own hell spawn nesting on her face.

“I should be in fucking Notre Dame bell tower.” She grumps.

You dig in your locker some more. Shake your head with a sigh. Strong arming all your books in hand. Hunting for the one for your chemistry class that began in ten minutes. You shift stuff onto your hip.

“Paper bag over your head?” You suggest.

She scoffs at you. “Nice.” Knocks her elbow into your locker door to hit it up against you.

A shadow brushes past you. A disgusting greasy wash of assaulting Paco Rabanne stinks up the air. All spice and wood, overpowering.

You fight to roll your eyes. Her revolting boyfriend lumbered past you. All cologne and seriously no braincells.

“Baby.” She chirps all sweet. Demeanour swirling into sugary sweetness. They’re acting like they didn’t just see each other two minutes ago.

“Hey.” He gives her that lopsided too white grin.

She folds her arms out for him and he kisses her right up against the locker door. Tongue noises and mouthing, sucking making you feel suddenly like vomiting again. That wasn’t kissing. It was like he was trying to swallow her. Suck parts of her face off in slurpy chunks.

“What you doing after school tonight?” He asks close to her ear but loud enough for all to hear.

“You, probably.” She flirts. Eyeing him like he was a full steak dinner. Dragging her sharp nails down his letterman.

“Christ.” You wince in revulsion. They resume tangling and knotting their tongues.

“Can we help you?” Linda asks when they stop sucking face. Having heard your gripes. Her lips were red swollen already.

You glare, boredly. “Yes. Give me a larger sphere of personal space. Couple of hundred miles should do.”

“What’s up your ass, Picasso?” Jonny asks as he splays a hand against the locker near her shoulder. Her spit is gleaming wet on his lips. Charming.

He used that really clever arty nickname he’s assigned to you. You half wonder if it’s because he hasn’t got the mental acuity to learn your name. Or if he even bothered to know it. Probably couldn’t even spell it-

“No one as per usual.” Linda sighs in a cruel little jab.

You bite back the strong urge to kick her in the leg. You really do bite your tongue so hard it stings. You wanna shout:

Eddie Munson. That’s who, Linda. Eddie goddamn freak fucking Munson is currently so far up my ass. Matter of fact, he’s so balls deep I can feel his cock tickling in my throat. Kay?

If only you could say those words aloud. Open up your mouth and let them tumble past your teeth, unfurl from the bed of your tongue.

You could only imagine. Their faces would be pure comedy gold reacting to that news. You’d walk down these halls cackling and blast the finger at them.

Jonny pipes up to you.

“I got a buddy, Derek, whose looking for a date to the game. You’re like, kinda his type.” He offers up to you. Eyeing your chest when he remembered his buddy said something about liking big tits.

Your eyes sharpen with frost creeping in at the corners.

“I’d rather lick a filthy toilet bowl. Thank you.” You beam all sweet. Venom punctuating your smile.

“She doesn’t date jocks. Her idea of a hot date is a library group study session.” Linda explains.

Yes. That’s my idea of a blistering hot foursome, you think.

“Hey. The head librarian is a total hot fox. Maybe tonight is the night I’ll finally score.” You play around. Waggle your brows.

“Shit. You eat beaver?” Jonny asks dumbly. Laugh grazed on his voice.

You make a disgusted face. Of course that’s a sick term only a meat head jock would use.

“That would explain so much.” Linda tilts her head at you meanly. He mutters something to her and she laughs.

“Glad I can amuse.” You scathe.

They smile all bratty together, not listening to you, and then they go back to their mating ritual. She wraps her arm around his neck. Mussing those sweaty looking blonde curls of his.

They finally break apart. He’s wearing so much of her waxy pink lipstick. “I’ll swing by for you around seven- wear that pink thing I like.” He asks.

She giggles all squeaky. They kiss. Again.

You feel like you’re watching an exhibit at the zoo enclosure. Gag.

You shut your locker. You’ve heard enough. “See you in class. If you can remember to stop humping.”

They don’t even hear you. Rolling your eyes. They’d only break apart with brute force. Or if a teacher walks past and throws the safe sex advice at their backs. Telling them to disperse. This isn’t a brothel.

You start down the halls and away from hormone-and-braincell-dead central. Leaving them to it. You clutch your books and weave past people.

And you’re suddenly awfully cheered. Perked up by the sight a few locker rows down from you. Why, it’s your favourite ever metal head.

Eddie has his head shoved in his locker. Up on his tippy toes rifling through for something. Scooping his hand right to the back.

You know just from essences of his character you’d already gleaned, that his locker would be an absolute garbage tip.

Littered with trinkets and random mementos. DND dice. A pack of playing cards. A dead can of spray paint in chilli neon red. Cool pebbles or stones he’d found outside the trailer. Odd pencils and plastic figurines from cereal boxes and his Hellfire club. Loose erasers. Pencil shavings. Broken Metal cassettes.

Possibly long forgotten school text books, lost in amongst crumpled leafs of odd paper, scored with old ideas for campaigns. Old purple and red sharpies and dead ones he doesn’t use anymore but clings onto them anyway. For god knows whatever reason-

When you scoot up to his side and tap him gently on the leather shoulder. He shoots five feet in the air, like a startled firework that’s just been let off.

Bless the boy. You made him screech and jump. He jerks back and his shoulder slams into his open locker door.

He splays his ringed hand wide over his raging heart and calms when he sees it’s you. Huge puddles of muddy brown he has for eyes widened, big as saucers. Now they relax when he falls onto the shape of you.

Ceases screeching when he does see it’s you. Smile curls up the side of his mouth instead.

Cause, Holy shit, it’s you.

His voice breaks on the first word when he speaks. “Jesus fucking christ of Nazareth, Pencils.”

You flinch. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you Munson.”

He leans against his locker for support and laughs under his breath. “Holy hell. I’m not used to that. How stealthily do you move around. My god-“

His eyes fix onto yours. Eye contact that sets shimmers living inside your skin.

“I never considered myself as particularly covert.” You offer.

“Honey. Trust me. You could work for the CIA.”

You preen a little with the way he calls you honey.

“Not sure I’m entirely what they’re looking for you know.” You tilt your head and smile.

He smiles back. It’s magnetic.

Your smile just pulls things out of him. Cute sweet things like fluffy pink kittens and rose petals. He looks at you and it’s like, maybe it’s stupid as shit, but he feels like someone has finally found him.

“You didn’t die. I’m so relieved. You’re feeling better?” He asks all curious as he shuts his locker door.

Violet purple sharpie in hand. He uses the shutting of his door, as an excuse to sidle up close to your side.

You’re not going anywhere. You sought him out. Stood holding your books and talking to him and- god. This is like the fucking high school romance in some tacky movie. And he’s the lead.

You’re wearing a dress. He makes his twitchy eyes focus on your face. Because he’s so tempted to let his eyes soak and swim up and down the rest of you. And he’s trying so much not to act like a sexual slobbering deviant with you nearby.

Your hair was down. So pretty. It looked so soft. He bet it still smelled gorgeous too. Still wearing that tropical sweet bite of coconut from before. Your legs were bare and you wore your paint spattered sneakers. Sweet little red roses swirled on your dress.

“Much better actually. I had one hell of a great nurse.” You lean in an tease him a little.

“Florence.” You smile, saying it lowly.

He blushed. Dear god, how he blushed at that praise. His cheeks filled ruddy with it.

You realise you’ve caught him off guard and hooked this bizarre vulnerability out of him. Keeping him caught on his toes. Literally.

He bites his lip. “Yeah but I can’t promise I’d look good in nurses uniform, pencils.” He winced at the thought.

“I think you’d pull it off nicely.” You assume. He chuckles.

“Don’t think I have the equipment to fill it out.” He grins as he twirls the sharpie in his hand.

Nerves. Just silly infatuated nerves. He picks idly at the peeling metal stickers on his locker door with a thumb nail.

You’re stood near his locker in public, in full view of the eyes of everyone in this hallway. You’re here, you’re so cool about it. In ways he can’t be.

Stood there all cute, and there’s your perfume sneaking across to him like oranges and petals, and there’s flirting skated on your voice and your smile- holy fuck.

He didn’t think you’d want to openly come up to him in front of everyone like this. He’s so happy he’s not listening to those fetid bear traps of usual Munson anxiety littered in his head.

You want to kiss him so badly right now it’s driving you into madness. When his tongue darted out to wet his lips. You follow the movement almost hungrily. Those heaven looking lips. Now you’re feeling better, you can’t ignore it in this close vicinity.

You want Eddie.

And the look he returns back, seems like a full reciprocation on those wants.

“How’s our respective friend the dragon doing?” He asks. Otherwise he’ll just blush and stare at your lips.

He tries not to skate his eyes over your scooped neckline (he fails) He can’t help it. He’s a simple man composed of hormones and he’s dying, actually slowly crawling to a painful death, to see more of you under that dress.

“Currently wrapped around her ogre of a boyfriend.” You nudge your head over your shoulder. He peers.

“Ew. Now that’s gotta be unsanitary.” He drags his eyes down the lockers and quickly sees exactly what you meanHe puts one hand on his hip. Is very quick to focus his eyes back on you. Fuck that noise. You’re by far a prettier sight to rest his eyes on.

“They won’t need to show sex ed classes anymore. They’re one strawberry flavoured condom away from putting on a little dirty show.” You smirk. Pure horror at the notion etched on your face

Eddie smirks all wide in agreement. “And in the hallways too.” He tutts like a scandalised nun.

“Have they no shame?” He asks you in faked affronted mockery.

“Should try carpooling with her. Her hand so far up his leg it borders on a porno shoot.” You shudder.

“Your poor eyes.” He says worriedly. He does worry for them. You’d have to scrub that image away with stinging water and soap. Maybe he could help. Nurse Munson and all that-

He shoots forwards and cups the side of your head like he could pull out the foul memory by osmosis alone.

His warm hand on your head fired up so much passion in your blood. Your veins skip and pop and sing with the bliss of his touch. It’s insane.

There’s that tender eye contact again. The one that feels like the start of a wildfire in your heart. Swirls up and swells, desolated everything in it’s wake. Both bursting with things unsaid. Things you want to be done-

Undone is more like it.

You’re fully ready to admit you would like to be the one wrapped around Eddie this hallway with your horny tongues down each other’s throats. Hands crammed in back blue jean pockets. One last hickie before the class bell goes.

“Hey uhm. Do you have a free period today?” You ask him. Curious smile.

You’re shuffling things in your hands. You bring a pencil out the tucked pocket of your binder. Yellow legal pad on top of your pile.

“Mmmm. Maybe I’ve a three third. Why’s that?” He plays with you. Smiling at you with cheekiness all smug on his amused mouth.

Your smile grows to hear it. “Oh nothing big. I thought we could uh, don some rubber face masks and pull a bank job that’s all.”

He bubbles up with laughter. That straight shiny grin of his you’re head over heels for.

“Hey I call dibs on wolfman mask. Alright?”

He then howls a loud ‘Aroooooooo’ which makes the poor kid walking along next to you to stumble back into someone else, all skittish. Almost caused a pile up in the crushing throng of bodies walking past.

You both giggle about it when the poor kid can’t zoom away down the hall fast enough to get away from you.

“Another great movie by the way. I watched it so much as a kid I think Wayne thought I’d go nocturnal, sprout fur and fangs, and eat sheep on Friday nights.”

You chuckle. “Well. You know. A hobby is a hobby. He shouldn’t judge.”

“And I guess that leaves me with the choice of Clown mask or Michael Myers.” You decide. Tilting your head.

“I think you could pull it off pencils.” He flirts. “I have faith in your abilities.”

“So where we running to after this heist? I assume we’ll have to go underground. Assume new identities. Or hell. Let’s leave the country. Spend our spoils.” He narrows his eyes. Plays along.

“Ah see. I thought Tijuana.” You offer up.

He points at you. Brows raised under those bangs like he’s considering it. “I like Tequila. Let’s go for it.”

“Probably shouldn’t keep discussing it out in the open. Loose lips sink ships.” You warn.

“Honey, everyone here is not even paying the slightest attention to us. Not with Malibu Barbie and Ken putting on their National geographic reproduction special down there.”

As he turns and rants, you decide to surprise him by leaning right in and smacking a kiss right into his cheek. Up on your tiptoes to reach him. Apples and cigarettes mingled with old leather. Smoky scent of Eddie.

The look on his face: utterly priceless. Cheeks flaming red. Eyes stuck on you.

When you bite your lip still smirking and scribble on your pad of paper. Eddie thinks his heart may be about to actually fucking grind to a stop.

He needed a nurse now. Goddammit. A nurse. A cigarette. Defibrillator. A cold beer. In that order.

He thought it would be the booze or cigarettes that would get him, one day. Or the way he drives, that borders on escaped lunatic driven to maniacal suicide. But oh no.

It’s you that’s gonna get him. Gonna pump his pathetic little heart off it’s mortal coil.

Eddie, my boy. It’s always the pretty ones that will try and kill you.

He feels like his little overwhelmed heart is one large throbbing entity now ruling his entire freakin body.

Your stood so close your books almost brush into his chest where you hold them. Where you look down and scribble on your paper. You tear off the bottom of the paper and hand him the jagged slip.

“So. Maybe in your free, you can meet me. Here.” You tap the end your pencil to the paper you pressed into his hands.

He looks down at your neat loopy hand. Definitely had an artist’s slant about it. You’ve written directions on there;

Art department. Down the corridor. Closet opposite the Degas ballet rehearsal poster.

Eddies eyes flick back up to you. “Closet huh?”

He remembers with alarming alacrity what happened the last time the pair of you were in an enclosed dark space. Hands wandered and there was an insanely hot amount of making out.

He’d had that thought of you with fever hot hands on him peppered through his dreams for the last week. He may have jerked off to the memory of it a couple times. Hence why he’s just falling to pieces right here in front of you, now.

You offer a flirty look right back. Boldly you meet his gaze. “All heists should be planned in secret. And storage closets are kind of our thing now.”

“Damn. We have a thing.” He shakes his head at you. “Smooth talker.”

You blush and look down as you laugh at his crass joke. Maybe that’s exactly what you hoped.

Eddie is struggling to believe he’s the one to pull a blush out of a girl merely with his words. That’s never happened to him before. He liked the hell out of it.

“Count me in, I’ll be there.” He tucks the slip of paper in his pocket. Patting it after. Safe keeping. Breast pocket. Stuffed right close to his heart.

You nod. “Good. Because. Uh-“ You step right in and whisper those words to him. “I’ve been thinking about you a stupid unhealthy crazy amount.” You confess.

“That absolutely makes two of us.” He meets you head on in this crush.

“So I can’t be held responsible for my damages when I get you alone in the dark, again Munson.”

Eddie nearly falls over. And he’s stood leaning against a very hard, very solid stationary surface.

And he’s thought about some very very filthy shit with regards to you and darkened spaces. Things involving his bandanna tied around your eyes. Or binding your wrists. He thought about sucking and biting on your neck to hear more of those delicious yelps.

He thought about kissing you to absolute air starved death. About anything and every which way you could enjoy twisty hot n’ heavy sex, in numerous wild positions.

He swallows right now. And he really, reallyhas to fight the urge to shove his mouth onto yours, right here, and now. He wants to taste you. Slam your back to this locker and shove his tongue in the smiling cup of your mouth.

He wants under your dress. Pawing at you like a pervert. He feels like some parts of him will never recover from this. Ever.

“Goddamn pencils.” He whispers to you lowly. He almost moaned it. It shot straight to your gut. Lightning zap powerful.

Those dazzling chocolate drop eyes. He looks drunk with you. Hungry for you.

The shrill school Bell cuts into your heated atmosphere. You bite your lip and hate that you have to step back. More distance that you didn’t want or need. Fuck.

“See you there?” You step away. Voice laced with hope.

He’d tug you along there right now if he could.

“You betcha sweet lips I’ll see you there.” He grins. It’s maniacal and so sexy of him.

You join the crowds and melt into them as you walk away. Unable to resist leaving him with a smile flicked over your shoulder.

When you get back to Linda she didn’t even know you’d gone.

Eddie watches you the whole time before he had to peel his eyes away, and turn his mind to definitely less important things. Picking through crowds for you.

Mirrors on the ceiling. Pink champagne on ice. Welcome to Hotel California. Ready a room for one please-

Cause it’s sappy as fuck, he’s well aware, but he never wants to check out of or quit this feeling you leave in him. He’s scrounging for more. Always more. Hopefully come his free he can have it.

Free period better hurry it’s ass along-

~

Ballerinas. Where the ever living fuck were these damn ballerinas.

Eddie wanders along the arty corridors. Looking very out of place as he had done the last time. Paper scrunched in his clammy palms. Golden ticket.

When people appear walking the other way, heading for him, he ducks and squirrels it over to the nearest display. Hair whipping behind him. Wallet chain tapping his Jean thigh.

Pretends to be very seriously studying the artwork pinned to the cork boards on the walls. Graphite smudged fruit bowls. Interesting

Hands behind his back. Peering around at the people shuffling past him.

They continue on down the hall with their sketchbooks in hand. Bumping into each other and telling jokes and utterly engulfed in their conversation.

They don’t give him so much as a cursory glance. Like he’s suddenly melded as one with the walls. All the better.

He stands with his hands behind his back and leans back from his hips. Swaying to watch them walk away and stoutly ignore the lingering metal head.

When they disappear out the doors, he’s on the move before they’re even ripped out of sight. Trying to be stealthy and quick about this. He scurries along like a scampering cat. Worried a teacher is gonna catch him and then he’s gonna have to slink his sorry ass outta here.

Zips at top speed down the hallways. Nimble on his sneakered feet. Most of the classroom doors were shut. Noise happening behind them. Art classes being dictated. Creations flourishing under tip of graphite pencil scraping on paper.

The humming whirl of pottery wheels down at the end of the hall. That same smell of sticky old paint and dry clay dust. Sad pot plant table to the side again. In all its droopy unloved glory.

Posters with names of artists he’s never heard of whizz him by. His eyes pick apart every one. Blue almond branches all twisted and nutty brown. Not the one he needsthough-

“Ballerinas.” He hums to himself.

Tutus and plié’s and all that shit. Eyes speedily scanning the walls. Flicking around in the way that makes him look manic. And then-

He sees it. Inconspicuously tacked to the wall. Mouldy mustard walls on a drab background only punctuated with the milky blue light of ballet dancers. He grins as he shoves the paper back in his pocket.

His eyes flick from that poster to the door opposite. Shabby old thing. The old sign on it looked weathered. Bold printed letters that read ‘Storage.’ He bites his lower lip in a smile.

Bingo, baby.

He’s at the door like a flash. Twisting his head around shoulder to shoulder to see if there’s anyone. Hair whipping around his eager face.

He shoves that handle so hard and slips inside the closet, it’s a wonder he didn’t break the thing.

His eyes adjust to the darkness inside. There’s old drying racks. Shelves for storage. Old paint tins. Old cloth canvases. Rolled up painted scenery curtains from the canteen stage, bunched up to one side. Dusted in spiderwebs and forgotten. Some wash of blue dotted with snow from a Nativity scene. Some foggy green garden from a tenth grade Shakespeare play from long ago.

He steps forwards. Eyes fading comfortably into the darkness. And there you are.

You’d put watermelon lip smacker on. Fluffed your hair. Rubbed a little dribble of perfume at your wrists.

Biting your lip all nervous and fiddling with your skirt. Floundering on the spot at the end by a low bench table. The space seems to be crushing down on you both. The realisation you’re truly alone again comes stifling as a vice.

Behind closed doors and locked in shadows. Woven in between all these things, it seems a great burning crush is being harboured in the pair of your huge hearts.

“Hey.” You breathe. You almost sound nervous. You hate that you do.

In the half dark you can see Eddie’s eyes look stunning black. Big pretty tar pits that tug. His grin flicks into white.

“Hey.” He answers back.

Trying not to trip over where he stood. He’s certain you’d be able to hear the way his heart is pounding his ribs so hard, like it’s rattling against the barred window of his bones.

“Funny seeing you in here.” He comments. That flash of his bone dry wryness rearing its head. He picks his way through the dark to you. Hands lingering on his hips.

He sees the smirk it draws from you. Eyes glitter in the dim.

“Yeah. Often hang out in here on the off chance someone wanders in.” You shrugged. Humour laced your voice.

“Like a spider, building her clever web.” Eddie widens his eyes.

Swaggers nearer to you. Closing in. His stomach tightens in want with every step his legs eat up.

“Very metal. Very sexy.” He adds. Tilting his head and his smirk at you. He hears how that made your breath hitch.

“Guess that makes you my prey then doesn’t it?” You tease.

He’s one step away. Moving closer to you in that dancy-swirly way he does. Other people walk. You’d have to come up with a whole new word for the way Eddie Munson moves.

“Oh. Happily baby.” He drawls. He’s right in front of you.

Your breath is getting scarce. Lungs shrinking in your chest like weedy little deflated balloons.

The eye contact can only be described as the most insanely hot thing you’ve ever felt. Tugging yanking warm static bursting in your belly.

“You uh. You, look really pretty today, by the way.” He says so earnestly. Makes your heart squeeze and flip. Your cheeks are blood hot. Rushing full with it. 

He gently places a comfortable hand over your hipbone. Eyes glued to yours to check this is ok. Every inch he covers he’ll always be checking that it fits safely into the parameters of your boundaries.

“Better than snoopy bed shorts?” You ask.

“I’m a fan of both. As I believe I said once, it’s not your clothes I’m looking at. It’s the girl under them.”

“That’s sweet.” You beam.

He slides fowards. Hips crushed to yours. You cup the side of his cheek. Feeling the slight push of stubble. His hands smoothed over your hips. Settled back on the dip of you there.

“Although- I’d quite like to see more of the girl under them too. Key word being, under.” He flirts boldly.

“Stop talking already and kiss me, Munson.” You laugh.

“See, your cunning plan of lying in wait worked, Ms. Black widow. You got me…”

Because even when he’s zoning in to kiss you, he still has to make noise about it. Of course. He’s like a heat lamp that never shuts up-

You shut him up indefinitely - or for who knows how long - not very long you bet - when you slant your smiling mouth across his.

Keeping him there as you smile against his mouth. Hand cupping the back of that wild haired head, the brain inside that seemingly that never stops churning.

Maybe you could make it still and calm for just a little while-

Eddie moans into your mouth and fully wraps you closer. Arms crossing over your back. Fully seating you inside the safe bands of his arms, crushed in the enclosure of his chest.

You stumble back and you pull him in with you. Arm around his neck and brushing that DIO patch. When you pull away to gasp for air, he wastes no time. Nosing at your neck to make your knees quake.

“I missed you like, an insane fucking amount, pencils.” He says inbetween mouthing at your jaw and under your ear. Kissing and sucking. Biting gently and soothing with his lips.

Your heart is slamming for attention in your hipbones. You’d let it slip from your memory how magical this boys lips are.

The night after he climbed out your window, when you woke up in the morning, alone. That hit hard. Of course you didn’t expect him to stay. But half of you wondered.

For just a second you pawed at the pillow next to you. Fingertips sinking into the worn old cotton. Still clinging with the scent of cigarettes and apples. Your chest swallowed up your heart cause- you just ached after him. Such a loud messy ball of kinetic energy that made such a pulsing groaning absence when he wasn’t there.

You wanted to just listen to him breathe down the phone to you. Spend hours and hours wasting time listening to the shuffle and shift crackle of the line and his manic laugh down the other end. Just making him break into a smile turns your whole day on it’s head. Tips you inside out and throws you round.

You can’t love him small. Or quietly. And you’ve never realised that before now. And that emotion is running into you now, headlong, like a fucking freight train.

“I missed you too.” You say. Clutching at his shoulders like you needed him to keep you rooted to this earth.

And your heart clenched cause it was so true it hurt. You’re almost in agony with it.

Sensing the neediness in your voice, he wraps you up in a kiss again. Each other’s spit skated on your lips.

It’s filthy and simply glorious.

“How much did you miss me?” He grins. All playful and toying with you even though your all wrapped up into him. Seeking quantifiable terms.

You pull his face in again and kiss him in a way you hope comes across as suitably needy answer.

This damn much, you dope.

Thumb stroking over his cheekbone. Fingertips sliding into his hair. He huffs in pleasure with the dirty way you kiss. Eyes rolling back in his head.

You’re kissing him open. Licking into his mouth. Finding his tongue with your own in a way that gets him hooked.

“Eddie.” You whine against his mouth. Almost whimper his name. Pressing it to his teeth.

Okay. His heart may actually fucking explode. Top of his head is gonna pop off like a champagne cork.

His hips roll onto you. Long slow roll. Languid smooth like bourbon. Pressing the start of a very hard erection into your belly. Stiff against his zipper.

His hands slip down your waist and he claws into the cheeks of your ass. You give him another one of those delicious sounding whines.

“Fuck.” Comes tumbling out his mouth when he realises he was grinding shamelessly into you. He shifts to pull back to say something-

“Shit-fuck- sorry, I didn’t uh mean to-”

He’s not going anywhere. Your hands yank into his lapels and then there’s this moan from you that spills into his mouth. You speak the words to his mouth. Sharing the same air. You give him a tangible direction he can follow.

“Fuck Eddie. Don’t stop.”

His knees almost give way. Thankfully, he’s got you to lean into.

“Mmm god fucking fuck, pencils the things I wanna do to you…” He mumbles. His voice dipping low and breaking with need as he grinds those hips into you once again.

 “Yeah?” You smile when he ducks to hungrily suck at your neck again. “Why don’t you tell me about those things. I’d love to hear them.”

You cup his head. Let him wander all over you. Mashing your lips to his with no musicality. All hunger. But just anything anything anything for that graze of friction.

You reel him in and you’re winding your pelvis in a circle against his. He almost trembles with the pleasure of it. He groans into your lips and devours your mouth as you push your hips together.

“Filthy things. Wanna grab your tits and lick your nipples. I-oh Jesus. I wanna, hmm, finger you until you wet my whole hand, baby. Can’t get enough of you. I wanna get you off again and again.” He sighs.

His reward for his filthy wants is your hand sneaking to the front of his jeans and cupping his stiff bulge. His whole body jerks like a live wire shock.

“I want all of that.” You tell him. Matching him step for step in this desire. Your fingers spread out, cupping the whole length of him. Palming his balls too. The pain of it being through the denim is like a half sensation and to his shame it turns him on more.

“You got me thinking filthy too. I’ve dreamt about what it would be like for you to work your dick into me. Stretch me open.” Cause he feels girthy. Maybe you could have a flip side to this freak nickname. Sex freak.

“Shit.” He whines.

Closing his eyes against your neck. Ringed fingers wrapping right around your wrist. You got him almost drooling down your collarbone.

“Fuck baby, yeah. Touch me.” He murmurs desperately.

Guiding your hand to rub against his cock even harder. He almost choked when you fiddled and clunked with buckles to get his belt undone and slipped your hand inside. Stroking over the barrier of his underwear. His hips rutted to you.

You met that rhythm with winding thrusts and roll of your own hips. So damn good.

“You can touch me, too.” You tell him.

Oh god. You’re a dream. He’s dreaming. Slap him awake somebody-

And then before he can ever register fully what’s happening, you take his hand and slip it right up under your skirts.

Rest in peace to his little senseless head. His brain may aswell be melting out his ears by now.

“Damn. okay. Fuck.” He bites his lip all swirling with nerves and excitement.

He was never one to deny a lady in distress. And when you place his hand right over the crotch of your sopping hot cotton panties, he can’t quite believe his heart is still ticking. His breath shudders through his throat.

His stomach physically swoops like it’s riding a tilt-a-whirl when he scoops his fingers under the barrier of your panties and finds you so slick and hot. He runs two fingertips through plump gummy lips and his dick has never been this hard- he swears.

You gasp out when he sinks those fingers deeper.

“Sorry.” He pants. He stops. Desperate black eyes shining at you. Spit coating his raw pink lower lip. His rings must have been too cold against your pussy.

“It was a good moan.” You promise in a purr. Your nipples are skipping with electricity. So hard they fully ache for touch. His fingers felt amazing. You urge him on.

He slithers them deeper, curling up and slotting deep. Muffled his moan against your shoulder. Your hand cupping his balls. Those were pretty damn big too.

He feels drunk. Pumping his fingers into you, this feels better than any damn high he’s had.

“How do you- what do you like?” He manages to ask as he eyes the way his hand is bumping through your panties and your skirts. Rolling to your pussy in a comfortable pattern. But he needs to find out what it would take for you to cum.

That fact he’s so excitable, and yet still wanting to know what it will take for your orgasm, makes you clench down on him.

He bites his lip at the feeling of your pussy suddenly strangling his fingers. Shit that was hot.

You reach for his hand. His pressure was heavenly, but you fine tune the angle of his fingers. Sinking them deeper, getting him to curl them just a little more-

Then he finds that spot that makes a yelp fly out your mouth.

He smothers you with a smug kiss to shut you up. He does not wanna get caught by a teacher in a dark closet with his fingers halfway up your pussy.

“You wanna get us caught honey? Cause I sure as shit don’t. You got an orgasm to give me.” He grins with newfound confidence making him brave.

He slows and curls and stretched his fingers. Sloppy squelches begin to get louder and louder. You’re getting his fingers wetter and wetter. It’s addictive.

“Like that?” He asks, sloppy hot against your mouth. Tongue sticking your lower lip.

“Fuck yes.” You pant. Face screwing up into ecstasy. Brows pulling up in the middle. Mouth dropping open. Eyes rolling up.

You widen your legs and let him finger the hell out of you. And holy god it was so good.

You can feel the callused tips of his fingers decadently flicking that godforsaken spot deep in your walls.

The way his rings add an extra jolt of friction and another layer of texture against the mouth of your cunt. How you must be getting those things on his fingers so wet cause you’ve never been this sloppy or loud before.

Granted you’ve only done this to yourself a few times. You’ve achieved the main goal of course- to cum. But this is so much more pleasure somehow. His fingers are bigger and he’s taking the time to explore and learn you. It’s ridiculously sexy of him.

Your hands grab for him. Whining for more, for that extra touch that is guaranteed to get you there, you take his other hand and push his thumb into the soaking folds of your mons. Guiding him to find your clit.

When you gently swirl the pad of his thumb around it, you cry out loud again and it makes him throb in his jeans. Hips thrusting forwards to him.

His stomach clenched and knotted in want knowing he’s making you writhe in bliss on the ends of his fingers.

“Take what you need honey. So fucking pretty for me. Bet you look so pretty when you cum. Couldn’t stop thinking about that.” He kisses up your jaw. Cleverly using his thumb and two fingers to drive you insane.

He’s fully ready to admit he’s thought about you flushed and naked and sweaty in his stained bed. Maybe those wet stains would be from you.

He lived with you inside his eyelids at night, picturing you naked, as he was desperately squeezing and tugging his own cock and just trying to imagine the way you’d sigh his name and the way you’d taste on the bed of his tongue.

How it would feel to have you in your hands and knees for him in his bed. Nails on the wall scratching down his band posters. Cock buried so deep you’d hiccup sobs with it. His hands clawing your hips and ass as he slammed you down on his dick and felt you cum around him, shrieking his name like a curse, toes clenching.

Something shredding loud and filthy, A little Sabbath maybe, playing on his stereo to mask the broken sound of your cries. As he curled over your back and worked his cock into you.

“Eddie.” You whine for him. Voice a weak gaspy stutter. Spreading your legs around his hips as he stands closer. Pressing right in so he can kiss you.

“So wet for me baby. Think I’m gonna get my wish of you wetting my whole hand aren’t I?”

“Yeah- yeahyeah.” You can’t nod fast enough. Poor baby he’s got you drunk on the thrust and drag of his fingers.

He can’t help it. You’re frying his brain. He has to kiss you. Wants to swallow you while. He needs touch. Needs.

He wants your nipples grazing hard on his hot tongue. Soft tits mashed in his face. Your pussy he’s cupping in his hands. Your ass. Your lips. He fully needs every part of you cause that’s just the way he wants to love you. Love you to strangling death.

Your cries intensify. You’re close. Drawing closer.

“Oh god please say you can come over to my place one night. Please, pencils. I can’t take it if you don’t.” He mumbles against your open moaning mouth. Kissing you and shoving his tongue in your mouth.

You push yours to meet it dumbly. Nodding. You break away to gasp.

“Okay- don’t stop. When?” You manage to scrape together the braincells to ask.

“Whenever you want I don’t care, oh-shit you’re so hot.” He felt you squeeze down on him.

You’ve got him so good he’s babbling. “Whenever. Come over whenever. Stay the night. Stay the whole weekend. Stay forever-“

“Keep doing this and kissing me and I’ll never leave.” You say as you clash for a kiss again. Bodies rocking.

“I can do that.” He mumbles inbetween heavy breaths. Huge great smile on his lips.

Both Eddie’s hands working you so cleverly. You will say this for the boy, he may hate school, but he’s damn sure a quick study.

He doesn’t know what’s louder. Your moans, or the sloppy squelches he’s fucking out of you.

When you start to tremble and clap your hand over the back of his, his eyes don’t know where to land. He drinks in the way your face twists into an expression that almost looks like pain.

“Close. M’so fuckin close.” You warn him. Your voice is wounded.

“Shit. You cumming?” He checks.

Your answer is in the form of a cry. You can’t even form the words. They don’t make it out your mouth. You can only cry and shudder. The shape of his name ready to come out your mouth as you clench and clench-

Eddie mashes his mouth to yours. Hungrily kisses you though the shaking whirling torrent of your orgasm.

He drinks in your delicious whines and kisses your lips raw whilst you cum hard on his hand. His thumb slowly swirls to a stop on your clit. Wringing out every last burst of pleasure that he can. Ceases the hard thrusts of his fingers.

You did wet his hand after all. He can feel your slick coating his fingers. Some splashed down on his palm between the webs of his fingers.

He doesn’t even care that he didn’t get to finish. Watching you tumble headlong into bliss - because of him - was more than enough.

“Damn.” Eddie watches in rapt fascinated pleasure as you struggle for breath and your chest heaves.

The ends of your fingers tingling where you clutched his scratchy denim shoulders. Your head shot to little floaty scrunched stars and noisy crunching static.

“Holy f-“ Eddie cuts you off. Smears into your mouth with a kiss that takes all your remaining breath. Sucks it right out your soul. Brings his hand around your back. His soaked fingers rest against your thigh.

“Fucking drenched me.” He noses into your cheek. Kissing down your jaw. He can’t resist your neck and he doesn’t. You’re sure the burning patches of wet on your skin are some pretty decent hickies.

“Not my fault you’re a quick learner with talented fingers.” You smug into a lingering peck you place on his lips.

He wiggles them into your thighs. He really was dripping. Wetly slapping your skin. “Pure magic.” He smirks.

You sag forwards into him. Ease the strain in your burning thighs.

“I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact I just made the hottest girl ever, cum in an school storage closet.”

“Not your average Friday?” You sigh. Teasing.

He pinches your thigh for that. “Menace.” He chuckles into your neck. Holding you close. Sighing in bliss as he lays his nose into your hair and smells that coconut scent again. He’s dreamt about that too. Everything about you is delightful and he’s dozy drunk on every essence.

“So. Any plans tomorrow night?” You ask as he kindly pets your pussy one last time.

Draped your panties back to their rightful place. You bite your lip as he brushes his fingers against you through them. You were more soaked than before.

“None at all. Well, a bank heist. But that’s not til next week.” He plays.

“Your place? Scary Movies? I’ll bring pizza and beer.”

“Fine. But I’m buying the pizza baby.”

“You just made me cum. Pizza is most definitely on me.”

That draws an amazed and blushy laugh out of him. “You sure you’re real?” He checks.

“Definitely. I am no mirage.” You answer as you reach your hand around that skinny trim waist of his and cup his ass through his back pocket.

You bite your lip with glee. It makes him smile and his hips jerk into you.

“Alright. Alright. Damn. Menace. What am I getting myself into here-“ He wonders.

“I don’t know but I really like where this is heading.” You admit.

“Yeah? Me too.” He looks at you and his grin slowly climbs across his cheeks. So sweet.

You tenderly look at each other a moment and it’s like the whole rest of this world can go get fucked.

“Had you better get back out there before someone notices you’re missing?” He asks Pointing his thumb to the closet door. After fumbling with his fly and his own belt.

“Shit. Probably.” You answer glumly. Sighing as you untangle yourself and get used to your weight on your own two feet again.

Eddie smooths your skirts down. But you think it’s a cheap and yet sweet excuse to cup your ass some more. You chuckle with it and he slings your body forwards into another kiss.

Waddling you both across, joined to the door. Swaying side to side like penguins. Hands in his hair as you kiss him again. Leathered arms wrapping around your waist.

He pushes you up against the back of the closet door, kisses you so deep. It makes you smile. One more. Just one more.

“Call by around 6.” Eddie offers.

“You bet.” He pecks you so sweetly for that.

“I think you got drugs in these lips of yours you know, Pencils.” He says when he can’t pull away from making out with you. Rolls his hips into yours naughtily.

“Corny, Munson.” You smile. But you won’t pretend that compliment doesn’t make your stomach sizzle.

He scoops you away from the door and you twist to open it. His mouth sneaks to your ear. Chin resting on your shoulder.

“Tell me it’s stuck and we can stay in here for hours.” He sneaks his hands up your thighs again.

“You’re terrible.” You twist back.

He grins with lusty lidded eyes aimed your way.

“That’s not what you said five minutes ago sweetie.” He preens. Chest all puffed up with the fact he made you orgasm.

You jiggle the handle and it crunches and swings open with a creak.

“Rats. Foiled again.” He curses.

You step out into the hallway. Out the shadowed clutches of the closet. You peer around checking the coast is clear.

You creep out with Eddie a hairs breadth behind you. Chin on your shoulder. His hands comfortably on your hips again. Watching the sway of your bare legs and cute skirts.

A sudden voice to your left made you both shoot out your skin. Eddie yelped again. Leaping to pull you close but then realised that would probably be inappropriate in front of a teacher.

His hands slipped for you and then waved jerky in the air and fell away. Awkwardly fidgeting to his sides.

“Shouldn’t you both be in class?” Came the sudden and dowdy interjection.

Mrs. Clary, the ninth grade art teacher stood looking at the pair of you with suspicion through her gold rimmed glasses, linked by a shimmering chain around her neck.

She wore ankle length skirts and a brown cardigan over a beige blouse. A short sweep of a nutty brown bob streaked with silver framed her frowning face. A little frumpy in her appearance but she was a complete stick in the mud. You certainly didn’t miss any of her classes.

“Mrs Clary.” You answer her with due politeness.

She’s busy frowning at Eddie. “What are you doing here, Mr. Munson?” Her eyes narrow. Mouth pinched at the puckering corners. His rep around the school was well cemented as trouble.

“Just-“ He floundered and his head hopped around seeking for an answer.

“… came to help this lovely art student here get something out the…closet.” Is the best excuse he can come up with.

“Get what?” She presses. Looks from him to you.

You dig your nails your hand to keep from bursting into a smile. Your face is itching with the need to not laugh. You chew your lip so hard. Hoping the lie isn’t etched over your face.

“Something. Uh- really heavy. From the very top shelf.” You jump in to defend him.

“Yes. That’s better.” He shook his finger pointing at you. Then he lays on the charm real thick.

“I was wandering my merry innocent way past and I wondered if she might need help.”

He meets your eyes and how you don’t lose it, you’ve no idea.

“Mmhmm. Yep.” You agree quickly.

“Did you get what you were looking for?” Mrs Clary asks. Clearly unimpressed.

“I sure as hell did.” Eddie beams like a letch.

You snicker.

“Back to class right this second.” She warned shrilly. Barking her order.

“Yes, commander.” He bows. Saluting.

You scurry away and Eddie shares a look with you before he goes. Being shooed away like a disobedient loping stray.

An ear splitting wolf whistle echoes down the corridor. It made Mrs Clary leap into the air in fright. Clutching her chest.

You look over your shoulder, with hot cheeks and catch the sight of that maniacal grin splitting his face. You can’t help chuckling.

Mrs Clary sighs in sheer moody irritation. “That boy is nothing but trouble. Steer clear.” She snips at you.

He wiggled his fingers in a silly wave and a wink as he dances out the doors. Hair flapping behind him.

If this isn’t love then you’re an absolute fool.

~

🕷 It may be of interest - but there’s a next part now 🕷

#eddie x female reader #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #stranger things season four #i would die for this man #punkwrites #super freak series #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson my beloved #eddie my boy #eddie my beloved

[hikariale]

love overflow!

"want to place that hoodie you took off by our pillow and eventually eat rice from its warmth. i know. that's not something that's easily understood, but i won't give up and i'll keep telling you how i feel!"

headcanons about peculiar habits formed out of love

characters: jade, jax briggs, shang tsung, skarlet, tanya

content warnings: mentions of injury and gore, smoking, timeline ambiguous but written with the original timeline in mind, ask to tag!

Jade will gossip with you. She takes her job extremely seriously and tends to distance herself from unprofessional things, so even the way she interacts in casual settings can feel uptight. Though she claims she has no vested interest in gossip, she always seems to know the juiciest things. Being in touch with court intrigue is just another duty of protecting Kitana, so she always has an ear to the floor. Technically, since they're palace secrets, telling them to an outsider is unthinkable and borderline treasonous... But if you press her, it's rather easy. She has her own opinions, even if she pretends to be above it all, so once you break the dam, you'll get the entire flood. Being able to confide in someone without courtly pretences is a treat to her, so she actually looks forward to you asking her about it.

Jax won't smoke around you if you aren't a smoker. He doesn't quit smoking, but the only time you will see his lighter is during camping trips. His clothes still smell of smoke, but if you spend the entire day with him, you're more likely to learn what kind of laundry detergent he uses. He doesn't want you to be stuck inhaling his secondhand smoke because he knows that it is objectively bad for people, so even if you say it's alright, he will probably abstain. If you are a smoker, he may have casual banter with you over your respective brand picks. Still, he won't knock it until he tries it, so you may end up swapping cigs one day. Though it's his biggest vice, he will unquestionably kick it if you ask him to. And if you're both smokers, he will try to keep both of you accountable and responsible with intake.

Shang Tsung will never treat you like a glass doll, but he will micromanage your health. Unless he takes care of things with his own hands, he won't feel satisfied that everything is in order. In some ways, it's a blessing. But depending on your tolerance for unconventional treatment, it can be a bit of a curse. The good news is that you could be sliced down the middle and thrown into a pool of acid and still live to see the next day. The bad news is that, if he cannot prevent your death, he will rouse you from your eternal slumber. The words "favourite person" may not seem to mean much from him, but the key term is "person," as opposed to "subject" or "pawn." A person may be physically cloned, but Shang Tsung knows better than anybody that clones are not the same person.

Skarlet will take the blood from your wounds like a keepsake. Though it might make you uneasy, she doesn't have any ill will. In her mind, it is the same as keeping a photo of you in a locket. No matter the severity of the injury, Skarlet can keep you from bleeding out, so you could joke with her that she's taking a blood tax for her services. Depending on the situation, she might even crack a smile! It is hard for her to explain why she takes your blood when she doesn't really need it for anything, but just be assured that she could distinguish your blood from anybody else's. Even if yours was a single drop in a bloody ocean. That attachment is, in its own morbid way, the red string that she's tied between the both of you.

Tanya will just lie on your behalf. You don't want to go to a meeting? You can't because your ceiling caved and you had to stay home all day to deal with the issue. Someone is giving you unwanted attention? Better luck next time because Tanya will make up a list of reasons about why that person shouldn't try to approach you anymore long enough to be a legal document. It would be nice if she let you know ahead of time, but she will set a wedge between you and your petty inconveniences as soon as she hears about them. You can fight your own battles, but if she doesn't think it's worth your time, she will swiftly sweep and smother them under a rug. If it is something that has been causing you a lot of duress, she might go the extra mile of stomping on that spot as you walk along your merry way.

#one disclaimer: the video linked has some flashing images so please exercise caution if you have any photosensitivity issues! #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mk9 #mkx #mk11 #jax briggs #shang tsung #skarlet #jade mortal kombat #tanya mortal kombat #ahhh i wanted to write something short and sweet. i love expressions of love that are a bit odd and hard to explain #i've been very busy... i hope you all had a nice valentine's day! #i might do more of these if the mood strikes me since i really like things like this but who knows #though you definitely won't see anything from me between 18-25th because it wouldn't feel right to post #fandom creations during the strike. i hope whoever reads this has a nice day! <3 until we meet again

[sapphic-woes]

When You Met Her pt. 1

A/N: You're an omega sold and forced to work at a brothel to survive. Sevika is an alpha, leader of a specialized unit made just to save omegas like you. However, when she finally does find you, it's seven years too late. MINORS DNI

Word Count: 2k. AO3 Link

_____________

Your cheek is sticky. You lift your head only to have a hand gather your hair and slam you back down. Your brain rattles hard enough to see stars.

"Lick." The sneer of hot breath by your ear makes you sick. This is what you get for not being good. Not being obedient. The client holds you down, gleeful to have you obey. To watch you mop up a puddle of your own blood. You know resisting would only make this punishment worse, and you dread the thought of having to take another dose of shimmer.

Or worse, being forced into re-training. 

"Y-yes master." So you suck it up like the bitch you are. Let this alpha take away what little pride you have left. You stick out your tongue to wipe up the bloody mess off the floor. It's grimy with substances and dirt you don't want to think about. Metallic and bitter and oh-so gag worthy. 

The liquid that leaked out of your nose when the client backhanded you was still warm at least. You take a long drag, and can smell the arousal spreading from the alpha above you like battery acid. Sick bastard. You nearly puke.

You were like that–a pitiful omega licking up her own blood off the floor of an illegal whore house–when you met Sevika.

Smelled her, actually. Sharp jasmine. Rich, earthy spices. A tingle of cinnamon so sweet it made your mouth water. It's thick. It's powerful. It's distinctly alpha in a way that doesn't disgust you. 

Bullshit, the shimmer was finally making you insane.

No alpha smelled like that. Not perfectly safe and secure. Certainly not relaxing. Your ass was on a trip. The stupid fucking heat-inducer was making you hallucinate. The only smells from alphas in this brothel were nauseating lust and gut wrenching anger. The kind of rage that makes you shrink. The kind that makes you kneel.

The fury in her eyes has the same effect on the alpha on top of you.

The weight on your back is suddenly gone. You twist to look back, breath hitching in your throat. The alpha is being lifted up, choking as they struggle against the hand gripping their throat tight. They claw, kick, and beg, tugging as rich dark skin only flexes and squeezes tighter. 

She's huge. Terrifyingly huge. Muscles bigger than your own head cover her arms, healthy thighs making your throat anxiously bob. She's the type of alpha you hate to see enter the brothel, because they never care to control the strength of their hands, let alone the thrust of their hips. 

However, this one is different. She's not dressed in casual attire but a uniform. She has on a bulletproof vest, guns strapped to her side. She doesn't have the sick smell of arousal clinging to her skin. Her earpiece buzzes with noises, but she only grumbles shut the fuck up at whoever speaks, focusing on the alpha suffering under her grip.

"Your filthy piece of shit…" She growls. It's low and primal, possessive in a way that makes you shudder. You can't move, petrified by the raw waves of anger coming off of her. The pressure of her pheromones causes you to scramble, and you're in the corner of the private room in an instant. Instinctively you keel over. Your head nearly touches the ground as you cower, hands tightly wrapped around the back of your neck. 

"How dare you. You hurt her, humiliated her…" there's a heavy thud as your client is slammed onto their back, letting out a strangled grunt of pain. Smaller, yet chilling smacks emit through the room as Sevika begins to pound the alpha into the ground. You flinch with punch after punch, horrified by the blood splattering across her knuckles. You didn't understand who she was or why she was here, but that didn't matter.

All that mattered to you was that she smelled so angry, and you were an omega she could easily vent her anger onto.

"Touching. My fucking. My goddamn ma–" Another scent, more calming and less invasive, suddenly filled your nose. A woman not as large as the dark skinned alpha curses, wrestling to drag her comrade off your client. 

"Sevika! Shit–you're gonna kill them at this point!" You recognize that this new red haired woman smells distinctly of a beta. Somehow, she manages to pull Sevika off of your beat up client to glare up at her. Sevika towers right back.

"So?" Her voice is like iron. The entire room is heavy with the scent of Sevika's rage and the beta's defiant aggression. You can hardly breathe, huddling more into yourself. Omegas were more sensitive to scents than the other designations, making it hard to function under the presence of intense emotions. Your brain was a jumble of desperate thoughts, all keen on pleasing the both more dominant women in the room. 

"So the first thing you want her to see is you killing someone? She's terrified, Sev." Panic fills your stomach like bile. It threatens to spew out onto the floor. You're painfully aware of the shift in attention. Frightened when a harsh curse passes by the alpha's lips and slow footsteps come toward you. 

She's simmering with fury. It's less than before but still so overbearing. Your heart feels like it's going to break through your ribcage, you're struggling not to hyperventilate. You close your eyes and dig the heel of your palms hard against the back of your neck with bated breath. 

"Cool it." The beta mutters, voice full of concern. It's odd, given that you're just a whore. The alpha before you pauses. She's just a few feet away, but she takes a deep breath. 

"Right. Fuck." Her words are snarled, making you pathetically shrink into a tighter ball. Long and slow, she inhales and exhales. The alpha reins in her emotions inch by inch, until her natural scent wafts over you.

There it is again. Her intoxicating scent is back. You can breathe again. For a moment, you take in several gulps of oxygen. You refuse to unwind your body, but you do speak, voice weak and breaking as you beg. 

"I-I sorry. I'm sorry can–I'm. I'm useful. I'm g-good at it. Please, p-please don't ki–" Your babbling usually brought about scents of sadistic joy. Alphas loved to see omegas lower their heads, to see you belittle yourself without even asking you to. However, all you get is a low growl, and knees hit the ground.

Wait. Knees?

Alphas didn't kneel. They stood and cast haunting shadows over you. They ground the bottom of their heels into your head with a sneer. Yet when you dare to glance up, the woman is doing just that. She's level with you, taking deep breaths to keep herself calm. Hands on her thighs so you can see them clearly, gaze steady. You tear your own eyes away, because what the fuck else are you supposed to do, shoulders bunching up as she speaks. 

"Get up. You've…done nothing wrong." Her voice is a gentle rumble. It's calming. It's like honey dripping down your spine. Wait, what did she say? You blink. You glance up at her. She raises an eyebrow and it kicks your body into gear. An order was an order even if you didn't understand it, and you had to be good. Mindlessly you obey, rising just as she does too. Your legs are shaky and hardly holding you up, but you know better than to complain. You keep your head bowed, limbs stiff. 

"Y-yes master. Thank you master." As trained, you address her with respect. However, it didn't seem to work. Her body went rigid, and the woman next to her winced. A wave of fury had you shrinking and taking a hasty step back, even though you knew that wasn't allowed. Resistance would only spur on a game of cat and mouse, and you were too tired for that. 

"Sev." The beta whispered, a hand on the alpha's arm. Sevika sucked in a sharp breath. She exhaled through her nose.

"I know. I know…shit, I know." You're a ball of nerves from the tone of her voice alone. Clearly you've messed up. Clearly, she was seconds away from using those bloody hands to put you in your place. Stupid. So fucking stupid. You couldn't even a fucking whore correctly. 

"Don't…don't call me that." The command is strained. You don't understand it. What did she want you to call her instead?  

"S-sorry…?"

"Sevika. When you address me," her sudden touch under your chin is so gentle, you fail to flinch away out of shock alone. She holds your head up patiently, waits for you to nervously meet her gaze. 

Serious, dark cloudy eyes make your stomach twist something awful. You don't feel like she's looking at the object you've grown accustomed to having become. She's looking at you as a person, a person that matters more to her than you could ever fathom.

"I want you to call me Sevika." Your heartbeat is loud and relentless. Your cheeks are red, and it's not only from the blood. You gap. You stutter. Sevika only hums low in encouragement, and it makes the coils in your stomach tighten.

"S-Sevika…" your voice is weak, but you muster up her name like it's thorns on your lips. The smile she rewards you is enough to make your heart soar.

"Good girl, now up we go." You squeak, only given that small warning before Sevika lifts you up in her arms. So high. Smells good. It wasn't the shimmer. It really was her own scent making you melt, and you didn't know why. 

The smell of an alpha was usually revolting to omegas within your line of work. It came with pain in one way or another, making your gut reaction ice cold fear. You'd puked from the tight, sick anticipation their pheromones suffocated you under alone more times than not, but Sevika's scent did the exact opposite.

It calms you down, and you take a deep breath of it with a sigh. Your nerves are still bundled up, aware that regardless of her kindness she's an alpha and even the nicest alphas end up hurting you–but you can't resist this. You need this warmth, this scent laced with sweet security, and somehow your brain manages to finally shut off as you blissfully fall asleep.

#sevika x reader #sevika x you #arcane sevika #arcane x reader #sevika headcanon #arcane headcanon #arcane vi #yea this one is dark bois #sorry not sorry i love that hurt/comfort lmao

[spinchip]

NEVER THE DARK

Chapter 10

Read on Ao3

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

WARNINGS for his chapter: Kai feels minor effects of alcohol withdrawal. Kai and Samira drink together, feeding Kais alcoholism. discussions of blood and passing mention of needles. Discussions of death and murder. Chapter art includes depictions of body horror focusing on multiple eyes

WE DANCE ROUND IN A RING AND SUPPOSE// BUT THE SECRET SITS IN THE MIDDLE AND KNOWS

They don’t leave immediately. In fact, Samira insists on dessert- which ends up being the petals off a sweet flower grilled and served hot that she doesn’t stay to eat. 

“I have other things to attend to,” she says pointedly, “I’m the one that keeps this place running. I can’t shirk my duties to hang out with you every time you show your face, Birds. Even if we are best friends.” She grins teasingly at that before her face turns serious again.

“I’ll arrange supplies for your trip and have a room prepared for the rest of you.” She announces, standing with a clap. “You do not need to check in before you leave. Come back in one piece, Birdy.” She says the last part directly to him, pinning him with a stern look that’s soft on the edges.

Kai can’t help the creeping dread that blooms from the center of his chest, a malignant tumor of suspicion and worry that increases each time Samira smiles at Birdy. They were awfully chummy. Didn’t Birdy say Samira was bad news? Then why did they seem so close? The whole situation makes his skull throb. Or maybe that’s just his persistent headache.

“I will return with three funeral flowers.” He promises with a nod.

And now Lloyd is going off alone with the possible double agent. Kai’s only solace is that Samira hadn’t had the chance to speak to Birdy alone, so if he was planning on double crossing them she had no way to know who they were or what they were capable of. If it comes down to it, their elemental abilities might be the card up their sleeve that saves them.

“Wox will return to escort you to your room. For now- sit, eat, talk about me behind my back, I don’t care.” She sweeps out of the room, the click of her black heels fading as she retreats.

Kai rounds on Birdy, pinning him with a sour look he says, “So how dangerous is this mission you two are going on?” At the same time Nya asks, “What else can you tell us about the gauntlet?”

Birdy chooses to engage Nyas question first, “Nothing.” He says, angling his mask towards her, “I did not know the true origins of the armor. I was bluffing.”

“What?” Jay squawks.

Up on the Dias, Barath throws his head back and laughs. It’s a hearty guffaw, one that makes the Ninja jump since they’d completely forgotten the man's presence. He pushes his chair back and trots down the stairs, “Oh, that’s rich! She would be so mad!” He giggles, “Only you could pull off something like that. How’d you know she’d cut in?” He pulls out his chair and throws himself into it, forgoing a spoon to drink his cold soup directly out of the bowl.

“She is from Cloud Kingdom,” Birdy explains, “She cannot allow a story to be told poorly, not one that she knows well.”

“That’s quick thinking.” Nya praises.

Kai crosses his arms, “Can we get back to the matter at hand? Super dangerous mission, remember?”

“Yeah,” Uneasily, Lloyd laces his fingers together, “What exactly are we going up against?”

Barath speaks before Birdy can, “Poisonous gas!” He announces enthusiastically, “Caustic, acidic, deadly- it attacks living cells quickly, burns through skin and bone until you’re dead. Sad.” He takes a moment to make a sad face before snapping out of it, “Not immediately of course. There’s a time limit before it eats you to the point of no return. But it makes your head fuzzy, all disoriented until you can’t find your way out. It’s called the Graveyard, and for good reason! That’s where you’re headed.” He pokes Lloyd in the chest with his unused spoon.

Cole looks at Birdy, ”How are you and Lloyd supposed to go in there?”

“Lloyd will not be going in at all.” Birdy says firmly, “I will go in alone.”

“Birdy’s whole situation, whatever it is, makes him unusually resistant to the mist. Wish he’d let me put him under a microscope! Your mutation must be incredible.” Barath informs them with a dreamy sigh, “He can last longer than any other man brave enough to make the trip- hours, in fact. The mist will get to the point where it will start to eat at his clothes before Birdy here feels a tingle. Please let me dissect you?”

“No thank you.” Birdy lets him down gently.

“You’ve never seen his mutation either?” Nya jumps onto that piece of information curiously.

Birdy answers for him this time, “No.”

Barath leans forward to whisper slyly, “Only one person has seen his face and lived to tell the tale!” He sits back and lets a heartbeat pass, “That’s Samira.” He clarifies.

“We figured.” Kai comments dryly. “You look normal, what’s your mutation?”

“It’s rude to ask about others mutations.” Barath says blithely as he sets down his empty bowl, “Lucky for you I don’t care for manners!” He grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts it up to reveal a torso criss-crossed with scars upon scars, some fresh and pink and others old and faded. they’re big nasty looking things, as if his skin had been brutally flayed and torn.

He points right above his belly button where a teeny tiny protrusion is budding, just barely formed enough for them to be able to tell that it’s a little hand, “Extra limbs! Arms on arms, really. I grow them easy! And I lose them quickly, but it’s for my research so it’s worth it.” He puffs out his chest proudly, “I’ve pet some of the most ferocious animals the realm has to offer! Not without casualties of a few arms, but who cares about that when the pursuit of knowledge is a fine justification.”

He drops his shirt and goes for his dessert, chewing on the leaves absently.

An awkward pause passes, but before any of the ninja can break it the sound of clunky boots fades in. Wox thunders his way up to the cavern opening with a sour look on his face, “Oy, you lot ready to be shown to your chamber? It’s all nice and ready for ya.”

“Wox!” Barath greets pleasantly, “You’re overdue for a check up. Do let me look at your mutation sometime soon, yes yes!”

“Sure thing Doc. Maybe once I’m off duty as these trespassers babysitter.” He sneers the last word as the Ninja stand from the table and approach him.

Nya bristles, “We don’t need a babysitter.”

“No, you don’t, because you shouldn’t even be here. Samira should have thrown you in prison after she first laid eyes on you! But for some reason she likes you,” He swings his head around to pin Birdy with a yellow-eyed glare, targeting him with that last accusation, “Even after you-“

“If you want a rematch, Wox, all you have to do is ask.” Birdy says, but his voice is… off. Monotonous. Dead. It’s like Wox triggered a coldness in his demeanor that the Ninja hadn’t seen before, “Allow me to end this pettiness and stop wasting both of our times.”

The insult makes Wox’s lips curl to bare brutal white fangs, and he responds by crowding into Birdys space, “Oh you can bet this fight won’t be a waste, Butcher. You remember our first scrap, don’t ya? Not so cocky then, were you?”

Birdy takes a step back, and Kai can almost see him snap out of and shake off that chilling persona he’d just worn so easily. He knows for certain that Birdy doesn’t break eye contact with Wox out of fear. His mask tilts toward the ground in some deeper, more insidious shame or guilt, “I apologize for lashing out. We have made a deal with Samira. Please, escort us.”

Wox’s fur, which had stood up stiff and straight at Birdy's initial insult, lays flat again. He backs down too, stepping back out of his space “I spoke outta line too.” He says and even he seems surprised at his words, “Let me show you to your room.” He turns and marches out of the room. Birdy follows him and determinedly doesn't look back at the Ninja. When Kai glances at the others, he sees his own expression mirrored on their face. What was that?

Finally, they were feeling that same suspicion he was.

He leads them back down the hall to a fork in the pathway, taking them into the dark of the new tunnel without missing a step. He pauses briefly as they come upon another fork in the road. He motions to the left path and jerks his head at Birdy, “This is your stop. Down the hall to the left, you know the way. Ila is waiting for you two.” He glances back at the others, “The rest of you will follow me.”

Birdy looks at Lloyd for a moment before they both split off from the group. “Wait, Lloyd-'' Kai breaks away too, going to Lloyd's side. He pulls him into a hug, “Be safe. Don’t let your guard down.” He says it loud enough for everyone to hear, not hiding the dark look he shoots Birdy's way that promises swift and violent retribution if Lloyd comes back with a single hair out of place.

“I won’t.” Lloyd promises, “Don’t get too bored waiting on us to come back.” He gives him a pointed look that Kai knows means snoop around!

He waves to the rest of them as he and Birdy finally disappear into the darkness.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Kai mutters, continuously glancing back at the path where they parted. Wox’s ear flicks like the words irritate him, but doesn’t comment.

“Birdy has been nothing but helpful.” Cole reassures him.

“I don’t trust Birdy.” Kai ignores Cole's words, running a hand through his Mohawk nervously.

Wox leads them through a series of elaborate interconnected tunnels going up and down and around so many times Kai’s not sure he knows his left from his right anymore. He leads them down another hallway filled with doors and stops at a random door, pushing it open with his foot. The room… is nicer than Kai was expecting. It’s huge and cavernous, with high vaulted ceilings and stone floor. This is no architectural craftsman ship to the walls, just smooth stone that rounds where it meets floor and ceiling. Several bed palettes are set up on the floor layered upon plush carpets and dry purple moss that insulates from the cold floor. There’s a low table on the other side of the room with pillows on the floor as seats, a pitcher filled with water and a stack of cups sitting on top for them. Thin fabrics are hung up around the walls to add a bit of warmth to the sterile walls.

As the Ninja file in, Wox starts on what sounds like a memorized speech, “As you are guests, you are permitted to leave your room at any time and use the amenities offered by the palace as follows: Restrooms, Public Bathhouse, Kitchen, and Library. At your request and with supervision, you are welcome to tour the rooftop garden or the Jelly farm. As your allowance to stay here depends on an agreement between another member of your party, you are not permitted to leave the premises until the deal has been completed. Caphishe?”

“We understand.” Nya nods with a tense smile, “Thank you.”

Wox ducks his head a bit, suddenly shy, “Ain’t nothing.” He says gruffly, looking away from Nya, “Boss asked me to make sure you all are settled, so call my name if you need anything.”

“Well, actually, I am interested in the Rooftop gardens or the jelly farm.” He’d already thrown himself down on a bed mat, but Cole sits up in curiosity at Wox’s words.

Tilting his head, Wox ruminates over the request, “Didn’t expect ya to want a tour so soon,” He admits, “I’ve a few things I’ve gotta tend to, but I can come back in an hour or two and escort you.”

“That’s… very kind.” Kai says slowly.

Wox seems to understand the implication of the words, “Samira appointed me as your lots handler. It’s my job, and I’ll do it well.” He crosses his arms but there’s no fire to the action, “We may be warlords, tyrants, and monsters but there are rules here we follow. It’s just how it is.”

He steps out of the door and does a casual salute, disappearing down the hall before they can ask any further questions. Nya makes sure the door is closed before turning back to the others.

“So this is bad.” She grimaces.

“That’s an understatement.” Kai crosses his arms, flopping back onto a random bedroll.

Cole lays back down himself, “We’ve trusted Birdy to get us this far,” he starts, “We just have to trust him to get us to the end.”

Nya busies herself by dumping the realm of madness water from the pitcher out in the corner and filling it with clean water they can freely drink. That done, she paces for a moment before rearranging the pillows on her own chosen bed. Kai stares up at the ceiling, thinking. He’d just let Lloyd walk away. It’s not like he could stop him- Lloyd was his own person, a whole grown man who could probably whip Kai’s butt in a fight if he wanted to (Damn chosen one special powers…) but the image of him disappearing into that dark hallway plays on repeat in his head. What if Lloyd didn’t come back? And Kai just let him go without a fight? With a stranger? He was being ridiculous, Lloyd could handle himself, especially against someone like Birdy. He would be fine. Kai worried anyway. FSM his head hurt, all he wanted was a drink.

A shadow passes over Kai's face and he opens one eye to Jay standing at the edge of his bedroll. He’s about to ask what he wants when Jay nudges him with his foot, “Scoot.” He orders, looking at Kai expectantly. When Kai stares at him too long he eloquently clarifies, “Scoot over.” with a firmer love tap.

Kai shuffles over and Jay collapses next to him, sighing as he melts into Kais warmth. It’s… nice. It’s been a long time. He puts his palm flat against Jay's back and tries not to think about Zane.

At some point, he falls asleep, because next thing he knows is Nyas hand on his shoulder shaking him awake. “Do you want to go with us to see the rest of this place? Wox is at the door.”

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Kai dislodges his arm from under Jay's head (waking up the man in the process if the sleepy ow! is any indication.) “I'm coming,” Kai shakes the remnants of sleep off as he stands up, stretching. He would be more snappy with her for waking him if he wasn’t instantly reminded of their predicament. That was the first substantial rest he’d managed to get the entire time he’d been in the Realm. These past few nights he’d felt so restless and off.

Cole lingers on the edge of the conversation. He waits a moment before saying, “You two looked cute.” Which he offers carefully.

“You should have joined us.” Kai says automatically.

Shrugging, Cole averts his eyes, “I didn’t want to ruin the moment.” He admits with a cough as Jay stands, finally dragging himself to the land of the living.

Frowning, Kai squints at him quizzically, “How would you have ruined it?”

Cole pins him with a bewildered expression, as if he can’t believe Kai would even ask. “Nevermind.” he says with a sigh, turning away.

“Hey,” Kai reaches out and takes Cole's elbow, “What’s up? I'm listening.”

“That’s a surprise.” Cole shoots back immediately.

Kai recoils at that, totally lost. Behind him, Jay is looking awkwardly between the two of them, just as lost.

“Let's just drop it.” Cole mumbles, “C’mon, Nya is waiting on us.”

They join Wox and Nya at the door, “Hey, you look nice.” Jay comments, “What's the occasion? Got a hot date?”

Wox, who’s fur has been freshly washed and combed, and who’s wearing a noticeably cleaner looking tunic and wraps, flattens his ears at Jay, “I always look like this. I appreciate hygiene and fashion.” He says with a scrunch to his eyebrows, as if attempting to read off a cue card in his head “And I have a sensitive soul.” He adds randomly, sneaking a glance at Nyas face.

Nya blanches, catching on, “RIGHT. Well! Why don’t we get this tour over with?” She guides Wox ahead of her, turning to shoot Kai a look that screams why me?

“Of course, my lady.” He snatches up the opportunity to link their arms, even if it’s awkward with his mutation, “I’ll start with the bathrooms-”

After a quick potty break and a snack in the kitchens, Wox motions to a large set of double doors, “The Library, but trust me, ya don’t want to go in there. The place doubles as Baraths study, and the good doctor is a bit… unhinged in his work. One second you’re stopping in to say hello and the next the fur on your face is burnt off as a result of one o his experiments.” He scratches at his chin fur irritably, “Let’s move on to the Garden.”

As they turn away, Nya shoots Kai a look over her shoulder before turning to Wox, “So, what do you like to do in your free time?” She asks sweetly, stepping in time with him.

Kai gets the hint as Wox’s attention is centered solely on Nya. He nudges Jay and motions back to the library and Jay connects the dots with a thumbs up. He slips away from the group to go poking around. The pattern repeats in the rooftop gardens, this time Cole gracefully bowing out to poke around the seed beds and strange plants. Kai is given the opportunity to snoop once they cross into the Jelly Farm.

The hallway they’re trekking down dramatically opens up to a massive cave, the ceiling vaulted hundreds of feet above their heads and the floor dropping away into deep black pits. Archways branch off the path they walk like intricate natural scaffolding, some natural but several more are manmade, all looping in on each other. Each pathway connects to others to make large round enclosures, and within each of these floats a massive sky jelly. They look even bigger than Kai first thought they were, the ghostly sheet-like bell nearly bouncing off the ceiling and the arms and tentacles glowing softly far beneath him. Railings made of steel and rope line each of the bridges other than certain access points, where workers covered in strange full body hazmat suits seem to be rappelling down the animals to collect the venom dripping from the tentacles.

Wox motions down a path towards the far wall, a little notch cut out, “That’s Samira's office. Off limits to anyone other than her.” He says warningly as Nya opens her mouth, apparently not smitten enough to bend the rules for her.

Which is Kais' cue to leave. As Nya prods Wox to tell her more about the Jellys, Kai splits off from the pair and expertly sneaks around the occasional worker or patrol before slipping into Samiras office. It’s a short hallway that leads to a heavy wooden door that he picks the lock open easily. Once he’s inside, he closes the door silently and gets to snooping.

Or he would have. He stalls once he turns around to face the room and there, sitting on her desk, is a nicely bottled dark liquor that calls his name. He swallows thickly before snatching up the bottle and immediately uncorking the top- it smells like some deep spice that doesn’t exist in Ninjago, tantalizing and exotic. He brings it to hover at his lips before his rational brain bonks him on the head. No! Now is really not the time, Kai! He scolds himself, setting it down with a thunk and rounding her desk to get a look at the paper stack there. He doesn't read a word of it, glancing back up at the drink.

A taste couldn’t hurt. All he’d wanted since entering this realm was a drink- it was all he could think about. He deserved it, didn’t he? For doing so much? For putting up with that stranger? He flips over the glass that was next to the decanter and pours himself a generous glass before he can think. He dilly dallies again, swirling the cup. He really shouldn’t. He stares at if for a long time, longer than he cares to admit.

He puts the glass down and shifts a stack of papers to the side- it looks like Samiras personal notes. He paws through the pages and grimaces as fresh ink streaks his fingers, lingering on each page until a specific word sticks out to him. The page was dated a handful of months ago.

Birdy scared me today. He lashed out after I confronted him about Farley, I thought he was going to hurt me-

Kai doesn’t process the words, his eyes skittering back over to that drink. He licks his lips. Fuck it.

As he picks up the glass to take a drink, the door opens.

Samira doesn’t look surprised to see him, but she does raise a brow at his actions. Nobody says anything for a long moment before Kai slowly sets the glass down, hand twitching towards the handle of his sword that he kind of can’t believe they let him keep, “Calm down.” Samira rolls her eyes, stepping over to a cabinet shoved against the wall and pulling out another glass from the top drawer, “I’m not upset.”

“You’re not?” He asks as he watches her pour herself a glass.

She sighs and it's a put upon thing, “You’re a ninja. It’s in your nature to snoop, and Wox is woefully easy to distract.” She tips back the drink and savors the taste, “Though I figured I'd find this room ransacked for information, not… used as a refreshment bar.”

He winces but picks up his cup again, “Yeah, well…” He doesn't have anything to say so he just swallows down a gulp of whisky-adjacent liquor.

“Hey,” She warns, “This is for sipping. Savor it.” She orders. When he obliges, she doesn’t quite smile but she does nod her head back towards the main room, “Take a walk with me.”

It is an exceptionally smooth drink, spiced and warm. It still burns going down, but it's a good burn. Kai feels like all his headache and lingering irritation melts away with each sip.

He falls into step beside her as they drink together. She swirls her drink in her cup as people call out hellos to her, “It was chaos when I first came here.” Samira runs her fingers lightly over the rope banister, “You may think my methods are harsh, but please remember who I am dealing with- these people have been exiled for grievous crimes. They cannot think I am soft. My strength as their leader is what makes this place run so smoothly.”

“...Okay.” Kai doesn’t know what to do with this conversation.

She motions him along another path, taking him down a hallway into a room filled with machinery. Vials of paralytic poison sit to one side with several people working around the humming contraption. Kai and Samira watch as bottles upon bottles of glowing pink liquid are fed into the assembly line. It chugs and churns until a measly five perfectly round pink marbles come rolling out on the conveyor belt at the end of the line. Samira picks one up, examining it, “There was no community, no society- just violence and lots of pain.”

“Mutations are hard on the body, Kai. uncomfortable at best, agony at worst.” She keeps the marble and leads him back out to the jellys. She walks up to one- this Jelly is older. Its bell lay flat and thin across its head with scars and tears along the edge, it’s missing a few tentacles and several lures, and it’s a few shades duller than the other animals that fill the room. It’s floating lower than all the rest too, the luminescent tentacles it has left drag across the floor so far beneath their feet. Samira leans against the rope confidently, “I saw Miss Emma here use her poison on a horse-“ She starts, patting the animal on the head where the poison doesn’t seep, “Paralyzed it and ate it right up, and it gave me an idea. She numbs you first, before she eats you. If I could use her poison, refine it just right, maybe I could take that numbness and use it to take away that pain.” She holds up the marble- the pill, “And with a bit of help from Barath, I did it, and I built Oasis around this thing right here. It’s amazing how easy it is to bring people together when pain is out of the equation.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Kai asks with narrowed eyes.

She sobers up, sipping at her whisky, “After all I’ve been through, Red, I know pain. I can see it.” She takes a moment to really study him, “You’re in a lot of pain, Kai. Aren’t you?”

He looks away, down at the glass he’s suddenly gripping so tight his knuckles are turning pale.

“That’s why you chose to drink instead of looking for information, isn’t it?” She looks at him kindly, face the very picture of a supportive and worried mother.

Kai’s not sure why his hands are shaking or why he suddenly feels so exposed and vulnerable- maybe because he hasn’t been able to drink since they came here, and he’s been deprived of the usual escape into intoxication, but he finds himself talking before he can think, “His name was Zane. He died saving me and I… I was too helpless to do anything to help him.” he blinks down at his cup. He should stop drinking. He throws the rest of it back like a shot anyway.

“Here.” She says gently, handing him the pill, “It works just as well on emotional pain.”

He looks up at her suspiciously, “You don’t want anything in return? I just saw how hard it is to make these.”

“Oh Kai,” She smiles and pushes the pill into his hand, closing his fingers around it herself, “The first one is always free.”

Barath doesn’t blink from where he’s huddled at his desk, writing chicken scratch in a leather-bound notebook when Jay slips in. There’s no way he doesn’t notice him, not with how his large desk directly faces the door, or how Jay immediately side steps into a stack of books and sends them thumping to the ground. For a place Wox had called the Library, there’s not much library happening. There are a few shelves lined along the wall, sure, but most of the books are piled into sections on the floor while the actual shelves are filled with notebooks, files folders, and active experiments or samples. Jay carefully avoids looking at the clear front glass container packed with bags of blood.

That’s the first time Barath addresses him, “Squeamish, Jay?” He sounds more subdued than he had at dinner, the energy in his private lab more serious and careful than the looseness of Samiras grand hall. “It’s quite normal to feel that way. Not used to blood?”

Jay approaches the desk that Barath still hasn’t looked up from, “I’ve dealt with blood plenty, but it’s not something I can get used to.” He laughs awkwardly, “blood belongs in the body, not out of it.” He jokes.

“You would be surprised, perhaps, at how prevalent hemophobia is here. I’ve drawn blood from warlords, serial killers, and much worse who close their eyes as I prep the needle. Seems a bit backwards, doesn’t it? I suppose it's different when it’s their blood.” He finishes his entry in the book and flips it shut, finally looking up at Jay, “I’ve never been frightened of blood! It’s fascinating, really, especially the samples I've seen here. So unique. Would you like to see?” already he’s stood up and strode to the fridge, pulling out a drawer filled with blood cultures neatly labeled.

“Uh, I'm- it’s okay! Really. I mean it.” He laughs nervously, “Uh, shouldn’t you be more careful with those? Whoever organized them is probably gonna be ticked off.” He adds on, raising a brow.

Barath continues to paw through the samples, humming as he picks up a few possible candidates before casually tossing them back. The neat labels on top juxtapose his haphazard actions, “I organized them.” He says blithely, finally picking out a sample he liked and slotting the draw back into place with a slam, “I have never cared much for consistency, Jay. That's why I chose to come here.”

Jay feels his jaw drop, “You chose to come here?”

“Of course!” Some of that energy from dinner spills into his body language, a pep in his step as he approaches one of the large sheets in the room, “Look around you, Jay! This is a veritable garden of Eden- a buffet for the mind. This world is ever changing, ever growing! I’ve learned more here than I ever thought possible. What I thought I knew in my home realm has all been dashed away by this realm's chaos. What I thought I knew yesterday will be wrong today. How delightful!”

He pulls away the tarp to reveal a mechanical monstrosity, several tubes and knobs, cords that lead into a strange metal box. There’s blinking lights and baubles and it takes Jay too long to realize it was a microscope. “I am on the front line of an uncharted world, Jay. My books, my papers, my research is the first of its kind. How thrilling! What ecstasy!” He slots the blood sample into place.

Jay can’t help but be drawn to the machine like a moth to flame. It’s not exactly well put together- the welds are a bit ugly, the machine is over engineered and clunky, but it’s clearly far more advanced than the microscopes Jay had seen in Ninjago. “Did you build this?” He asks, ghosting fingers over mis-matched metal.

Barath grinned with all his teeth, “It took a while to figure it out. I admit, I took some of my old equipment for granted.” He had years here to try new things, and the cobbled together mishmash of it showed. “Are you sure you don’t want to look? The way the mutations affect the blood is quite a show.”

It’s tempting, but Jay felt a little queasy just thinking about it, “I… didn’t come here to talk about blood.”

With a shrug, Barath looks into the barrel himself. He takes a moment to adjust the knobs, “I know that.” He says, picking up a small trigger stick and holding the button. There's a series of several flashes and the box next to the microscope hums to life, printing off several sheets of paper, “You came to snoop.”

Jay blanches, “W-What! No way, I just wanted to- Wox led us on a tour, and the library is free for us to use so- so-”

Barath leans away from the instrument to smile at Jay, “I’m not angry, Jay! Come now, you really believe that Samira, Wox, and I don’t know your intentions sneaking off from the tour like you did? Do you really believe Wox, one of the more fearsome and brutal warlords of Chima, didn’t notice the party getting lighter? We are criminals, Jay. We expect this!” He grabs the stack of papers and scurries back to his desk, taking out a quill and ink so he can begin to carefully label and date each image he took of the blood.

“Oh.” Jay says simple. There’s a pause, “So you don’t mind if I poke around?”

Barath looks up from his work and sizes Jay up for a moment. He takes a break from labeling the papers to lace his fingers together on top of his desk, “I’ll do you one better: Any questions you have, you are free to ask. My mission is the pursuit of knowledge first and foremost, and I will share that knowledge whether Samira wants me to or not. I will tell you the truth!”

Well, that sounds a lot easier than flipping through books all night. He moves another stack of books off of the chair in front of Baraths desk and sits, twiddling his thumbs.

“Well?” Barath prompts.

“I uh… don’t know what to ask.” He admits.

That seems to baffle Barath, “You’re in a world where people grow multiple eyes and it rains acid, and you have no questions whatsoever? Where’s your whimsy?!”

“Okay, okay! Um… So, Samira, is she like- the original banished person? She was here first? Is that why everyone listens to her?”

“Oh, no!” Barath leans back in his far more comfortable looking chair, “Samira is far from the first! But you won’t run into any of those- we call them the Ancients. They are gone now. Dead, mostly, or lost to their mutations long, long ago other than- well.” He gets a sparkle in his eyes, “I have this theory on mutations- it’s physical of course, but I believe a great deal of how and why you mutate depends on the strength of your character and will! The stronger your constitution, the longer you keep your sanity.”

“The last of the Ancients was alive just a handful of years ago. It’s a name you know! Birdy.”

“Birdy…? But Birdy is still alive.”

Barath grins, “The Birdy you know is alive, yes, but he didn't just take that mask from her. He took her name as well- of course, that was not her true name, just the moniker she went by here. She had an iron will and never once bowed before anyone, even at her lowest.” He shifts back to Jay's original questions, “Samira is the leader of Oasis because she is good at bending people to her will, at figuring out exactly what people want, what they need, and how to use that to control them. Samira made these people rely on her, and how she has all the power.”

Jay picks at his nails, dread filling his stomach as he thinks over Baraths earlier words, “Did Birdy- current Birdy... kill the old one?” He asks, feeling a cold wash over him at the idea that Lloyd was out with a murderer.

Barath takes a long moment to think, “Perhaps I should tell you all I know about Birdy.” He says, suddenly solemn, “But you must be warned- this is not a conversation had lightly. Can you handle this truth?”

“I have to know.” Jay says firmly.

Barath begins to speak.

“Oh!” Ila says, startled.

Cole spins around to face her, feeling a hot flush of embarrassment that she’d caught him playing in the dirt in one of the garden's grow beds, “Uh, I wasn’t doing anything weird.”

She laughs a little, stepping into the greenhouse more. The garden sprawled up one half of the palace roof (mountain top?), stairs leading from one platform to the next. They were on the second platform out of three where several large greenhouses took up nearly every available inch of space other than walkways, “You just surprised me,” She says lightly, “I took longer than normal to clean up the kitchen, I thought I would have missed you.”

That seemed… weird. Did she know he would be there? Maybe Wox told her they were going on a tour..? “Were you trying to miss me?”

She pauses too long to be anything other than strange, “No.” She says finally, “Do you like the greenhouses?” She asks politely.

He drops it uneasily, “It’s cool in here, yeah. I’m not familiar with any of these plants, though.”

“I help tend to the garden, I could probably give you a quick rundown.” She offers, stepping up beside him to examine the plant he was in front of.

“No, that’s okay- but I was wondering… If these Funeral flowers are so important, why don’t you grow them here?” He gestures around, “Instead of making dangerous trips into the Graveyard?”

“Oh, well,” She turns around and sits on the edge of the wooden planter, “Funeral flowers don’t produce outside the graveyard, despite our efforts. We tried filling a greenhouse with the fog but it never lasts, and the plants never flower. In fact, come with me!” She stands again and beckons him to follow with one of her tentacles, leading him out one greenhouse and into the next. They weave between planters until they come upon an ordinary looking bundle of green grass. It looks like it would be right at home in a field on Ninjago, “Here they are. Funeral flowers.”

“These?” He squints at the plain green things.

“I told you, they won’t flower. Usually a flower stalk would be right in the middle of these with a white bud, but no matter what we try they just don’t grow outside the graveyard.” She sits down again, “They’re strange, delicate plants.”

“So now you have to trek into the mist for them.” He nods.

“We didn’t used to have to go so far,” She admits, stretching each of her tentacles out like she's working out a sore muscle, “They used to grow right on the edge of the mist- big patches of them. Barath was the one who discovered them. We didn’t know what we know now, and we picked them without thought- but Funeral plants don’t survive a rough harvest. We yanked the flowers, and the roots died, and now we have to travel deeper and deeper for them.”

“What’s so special about them?” He finally asks, sitting next to her.

She tips her head to the side, looking up through the glass ceiling at the swirling red sky, “It’s a cure.” She says seriously, “It reverses mutations, brings back fingers and skin as long as you're not too far gone. One plant is enough for thirty pills, each enough to significantly improve mutation symptoms. One pill can buy you nearly anything you could ever want here, that’s how valuable they are.”

Cole whistles low, “Wow.” He looks at Ila, considers how human she still looks, other than the tentacles, “You’ve had one?”

“Three total over the years.”

“Samiras had a lot more than that, I'm guessing.”

Ila shrugs at that, “I’m sure she has, but I don't know exactly. Samira has looked the same for a long, long time, so I think she uses her supply to regulate instead of cure.”

“Birdy?”

“Birdy has never accepted a cure pill.” She tells him, “He’s got some issues about that stuff.”

Cole quirks a brow, “What, does he not want to owe Samira anything?”

“More like he doesn’t think he deserves good things.”

There’s a pause as Cole chews on that. Birdy had been nothing but understanding and kind to them, even listening to Cole's input when he had it. He hadn’t seen a dark side to Birdy other than maybe his earlier interaction with Wox, but everyone was so certain he was this dangerous, unstable guy. Even Birdy himself.

“What can you tell me about Birdy?” He asks finally.

“He’s courteous and polite,” She starts, “He always offers to help me clean the kitchen, or even cook. He does favors without asking for anything in return.”

She stops, and Cole waits.

“And?”

“...And he’s hurt a lot of people.” She forces out, and then begins to talk.

Nya hangs off Wox’s arm and tries to keep him talking, both of them marching along random hallways as he tells her about the construction they did to reinforce the walls along this particular corridor, “This whole place was a nest, once. Like a termite mound, but for some other animal- we don’t know what. It was long abandoned when Samira laid claim to it.”

She hums along, prompting him to go on when they round a familiar hall. The hall with their room in the middle- Nya glances behind them and there are no Ninjas in sight, “Why don’t you show me the library again?” She asks, leaning against him with a bright smile.

He rumbles out a low laugh, “I like ya, Nya, so I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He leans in a bit, “I know your friends aren’t behind me anymore.”

She jumps away, fully expecting him to be angry at their trickery, but he doesn’t seem bothered at all. Nothing happens for a long moment, they just stare at each other, “...You’re cool with that?”

“We expected it.” He says simply.

“Oh. huh.” She runs a hand through her hair, “Well, thank you I guess. I’m just gonna…” She motions to her door awkwardly, stepping over to it and going for the handle.

“Nya, wait.” He takes a step towards her, “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Oh, Wox.. um, i’m flattered but I don’t…”

He snorts at her attempt at a gentle rejection, “Don’t worry, darling, that’s not what I was going to say.” He debates for a moment, “I was not lying before, I do like you, Nya. You remind me of someone I once had the privilege to love, but there is no room in my heart for anyone but my better half.” It occurs to her suddenly that all his earlier nerves around her had simply... vanished. He was... pretending? So that she would think she had the upper hand..?

She feels her confusion show on her face, “Then…?”

His face grows serious, “The people of this realm are not good people. I know that, I've seen many of them at their worst… But Birdy is by far one of the most dangerous people here. It is wise for you to cut your losses and leave him, for your own sake.”

“What are you saying?” She feels herself turn pale, sweat beading on her forehead.

“Banishment to this realm is rare now. It doesn’t happen anymore, the people here now are all that there will be. Ever. Yes, we all have our dark and violent pasts, but there is an honor code between us all now- we don’t kill. We fight, we hurt, we steal and we lie, but we do not kill. Those that do are exiled, made to live in the deserts and wastelands… But Samira likes Birdy, so she allows him to break some of our rules. He should not be here, Nya. He is a murderer.”

Kai pockets the pill, unsure about taking it. He wants another drink, But Samira seems less inclined to share her liquor. They walk together for a while longer in silence.

“Birdy and I are not friends,” She says suddenly.

Kai looks over at her, confused, “Huh?”

“He is a valuable asset to me, but we are not friends. I protect him because it is in my best interest to stay on his good side… but I see myself in you, Kai and I must be honest with you. I have to warn you.” She says seriously, coming to a dead stop in a dark corner between the scaffolding walkways.

“Warn me? About Birdy? I knew he was bad news!” He huddles closer to her, eager to uncover the truth.

“You have good instincts, Kai. Bad news is an understatement.” She motions him to follow her and she quickly leads him back to her office, pouring the both of them another glass of whisky to steel her nerves before she lays everything out on the table for him. “This is a place for the realms worst villains, Kai. You don’t know the kind of horrors I've listened to people brag about- but what little I’ve learned about Birdy has eclipsed those stories completely. He was the Emperor to the Never Realm, and while he was in power… he destroyed crops, leaving his people with nothing. His dungeons were always empty because he killed his prisoners before they ever stepped foot in a cell. Devastation, wanton destruction, massacres, genocide- he took part in it all. He didn’t even bat an eye. He decimated his land for power, Kai.”

Kai feels dizzy, sipping at his drink so the burn will center him. Sure, he wasn’t the most trusting, but even he wouldn’t have expected that type of laundry list for the soft spoken Birdy, “But he seems…”

Samira looks down at her cup, face pinching in sorrow, “Not too long ago, only a year and a half at most… he came into Oasis drenched in blood. He had a traveling companion, a fox from Chima…” She looks up at Kai, anguish in her eyes, “He wasn’t a threat to anyone, Kai. Farley wasn’t even supposed to be here. Birdy slaughtered him- we never found his body.”

Kai shook his head because that just… it couldn’t be. Not Birdy. It didn’t even sound plausible!

Samira reaches into her desk and pulls out a photo- it’s obviously old, not taken by a modern camera like the ones from Ninjago. It shows the market on the outskirts of town, filled with people. Ila is at the center of the photo smiling sweetly. Samira points behind her, at a figure in the crowd.

“Look.” She says urgently, “Really look.”

It’s a fox, slender and young, but everything else falls away. Kai’s vision tunnels. Strapped to the foxes hip is a unique copper dagger, blade curved and wickedly sharp, with an amber stone embedded in the hilt.

It’s the same dagger he’d seen Birdy use almost every day since they’d met.

The same dagger he’d used to prepare meals, to shred wood for kindling, to cut away stubborn vines so they could easily walk along the forest path. It’s the same dagger.

“That knife belongs to a dead man, the mask belongs to a dead woman. I know he killed Farley, he told me himself. He’s carrying around trophies, Kai…and I am scared to think that you or any of your friends might be next. I believe you're safe for now- he wants you alive for some reason, it’s important you are alive… but wherever he’s leading you… I don't know, Kai. I worry the next time I see him, he’ll be wearing red. Another trophy.”

Kai swallows down the rest of his cup and shakily pours another.

Birdy was a murderer. A monster.

And Lloyd was alone with him.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #kai ninjago #jay walker #nya ninjago #cole brookstone #zane julien #lloyd garmadon #ninjago never the dark #ninjago au #alcoholism #blood #needle mention #death #murder #samira: i love manipulation ! #multiple eyes #body horror

[hooked-on-elvis]

ELVIS FELT BETTER SINGING DIRECTLY TO SOMEONE ON HIS MOVIES 🎬🎠

— BEHIND THE SCENES: 'HAVE A HAPPY' PRODUCTION NUMBER IN 'CHANGE OF HABIT' (1969)

The above 'Have A Happy' production number was filmed on the Universal back lot park (between March and April, 1969).

The scene was in fact shot three times. The first shoot used a small old merry-go-round, which looked out of place. The second shoot had technical problems with the sync and the camera, (The playback system had just been used on 'Sweet Charity', another 1969 movie with, among others, Sammy Davis Jr. on the cast, using quarter inch tape) then after a third attempt, some pick ups were still needed because Amanda (Autistic child character played by Lorena Kirk) wasn't smiling at the end of the number.

About that 'no smile' issue, Cynnie Troup (assistant trainee script supervisor) said:

To get that little girl to smile, oh my god! They had a day of re-takes, after the whole movie was over, after the wrap party, which Elvis was certainly involved. It was not a very good song, that scene was awful. It was tough to match, who sitting on what horse, it wasn't fun scene at all.

I highly disagree with 'the scene was awful' thing, but possibly Cynnie Troup is talking about the production work behind the cameras and not the final cut properly, but even if those are her thoughts on the final scene, it's a matter of opinion, really. Even though the scene is perceived as 'silly' mainly by adult audience, to me it looks joyful and carefree and personally I enjoy the song very much. The merry-go-round scene is cute, except one of the final moments when Mary Tyler Moore arches her back so slowly while she's silly smiling, looking kinda horny even, and it looks the character is on a acid trip (something common back in the 60s, so it's funny watching her look like that on the movie but it's a just a brief moment). The only thing I say as a viewer that slightly bothers me on the scene is that I get a little dizzy while watching it because of the obvious - the camera work and the actors walking around in that gyrating thing. I can't even imagine how Elvis must have felt filming this, since he is the only actor moving around that merry-go-round the entire time - and they filmed it 3 times fully!

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On the same scene, Director William A. Graham recalled:

We were shooting this musical number on a merry-go-round where he's taken this little girl to the park. He takes her on the merry-go-round and she's riding around and Elvis is singing to her. Well, she was a very young girl and she could only work for a few hours a day with us getting into all kinds of penalties and overtime. So when it came time to do Elvis' close up the little girl wasn't available to do the offstage. Also, you know, her attention span was not that great. So Elvis said to me, 'I always feel better when I'm singing a song if I can look at somebody and if I can sing to somebody'. He says, 'I wonder if you would mind standing beside the camera and let me sing to you when I do my close ups'. So I had Elvis Presley sing a song directly to me in a movie, and that was quite a thrill.

Source: This article comes from the website www.elvis.com.au.

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Taking the opportunity since we're mentioning 'Change of Habit', there's one brief interview from elvis.com.au with another actor on the cast of the movie, you can find it in HERE: Interview with Ed Asner (below), who played a cop in 'Change of Habit'.

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I shared this article because, watching all the Elvis movies, I often wondered if Elvis felt even slightly shy while having to sing directly at one person over and over again while filming his movies. Yes, he was used to sing to people, obviously, but singing in a movie set while there's more actors in the scene with him is one thing, while singing looking directly at one person (normally his love interests in the movies, all attractive females) is another, so I wondered if he ever felt uncomfortable singing directly at the ladies in his movies but it turns out he probably didn't. He liked it better this way. Haha, funny. ♥

#elvis presley #mary tyler moore #william graham #ed asner #change of habit #1969 #1969 movies #elvis movies #60s movies #elvis #60s elvis #elvis the king #elvis fans #elvis fandom #elvis history #Youtube

[eridanidreams]

Cait and Cora: Lightning bugs in a dark field please

Cait was sitting at one of the computer consoles, reading a slate, when Cora finally got done with her homework. She looked up, her face brightening with the smile she only gave Cora. (Cora knew that was true—she'd watched. Cait had a smile—actually, she had several smiles—for Dad, but she had one in particular that was for Cora, and it made her feel all warm inside.) "Here I am! You wanted to see me?"

"I did," Cait agreed. "I thought we might take a walk. Something I want to show you."

"It's dark out," Cora said dubiously. "Is it going to be okay?"

"Sam's okay with it," Cait said reassuringly. "And I did a sweep and nothing big's in the area. But… what's rule number one on an unexplored world?"

"Treat every trip outside the ship like it's the first," Cora recited obediently. "So… I should get my pistol?"

Cait nodded. "Locker's open for you." Cora walked—walked, because this was a big deal and it was important to show everyone how mature she was, to the weapons locker and removed her pistol—just a basic Solstice that fired only EM beams, but hers nonetheless, carefully checked the charge and verified the safety, put it back into its holster and fitted the holster on her belt, then walked back to the main hatch.

"Rule number two," Cora said. "If I'm running with a gun, something had better be chasing me."

"Good girl," Cait said approvingly, and opened the hatch. They walked side-by-side down the ramp into the night. It was a comfortable twenty degrees, with only a little bit of a breeze.

The breeze reminded Cora—"Shouldn't I have a mask?"

"We're not going close enough to one of the fungal groves for you to need it," Cait replied easily. "And even so, most of the fungal spores are pretty harmless to adults; I just didn't want to take the risk with you."

"Because they're psychotropic," Cora said. "Which means they do weird things to your brain." She looked up at Cait.

"And we all like your brain just like it is," Cait teased, rubbing a hand affectionately over Cora's hair. "Permanently overclocked."

Cora stared at Cait, trying to make her face as expressionless as she could. "You… have… discovered… my… greatest… secret." She stuck her hands out in front of her like a robot in one of the really old movies Dad and Cait liked. "Crush… kill… destroy!!!"

Cait's eyes went wide. "Oh, no!" she gasped theatrically, putting a hand to her heart. "The Coe-bot is after me! I must flee!" Cait flailed like a particularly dense damsel. "Run, run, the Coe-bot is on the loose!" Somehow, all Cait's flailing only kept her a few feet ahead of Cora's grasping arms… right until Cora 'caught' her and they tumbled into the grass, giggling. (Cait did the same thing Dad did, making sure she hit the ground first so Cora landed on her; Cora wondered if that was an adult thing or… something else.)

Cait's eyes were bright, even in the darkness, shimmering and shifting like they had a prism playing across them. "Cora," she whispered, "look at that." All around them, tiny points of light rose up from the ground, blinking in colors that ranged from pastel purple to pale yellow to an almost acid green, painting the two of them in a kaleidoscope of colors. She rolled to her side, holding Cora in an effortless embrace, to give them both a better view.

"Is this what you wanted to show me?" Cora also whispered. She wasn't sure why, but she felt somehow that she didn't want to do anything that would make the moment end.

"Yes," Cait's voice was warm with affection. "There was a field like this near where I lived… after. And every spring, I'd go out there and lie in the grass and just… watch."

Cora flopped over onto her back, gazing upward at the dancing lightbugs. "What do you see? Do you feel them?"

"Hmm," Cait imitated Cora, folding her hands behind her head in a makeshift pillow and coaxing Cora into laying on one of her shoulders. "I'm pretty sure I see the same thing you are; they aren't putting off IR or UV. And I don't think I'm feeling them—they're too small to have much of a brain…" She trailed off, getting that kind of intent look on her face, like she did sometimes around the Artifacts, or when she was trying to get the sense of something tricky. "But you know, you might be on to something. I never thought about it, but when I'm in the middle of them like this…" She let out a soft, wondering sigh. "I always thought that this was what joy was."

Cora thought about that, too, while the lightbugs wheeled and flickered above them. "Is that why you wanted to show this to me?"

"Mmm-hmm," Cait said. "I thought you'd like it. Things keep getting busy, and weird, and dangerous, and I wanted to share this with you, and make sure you were doing okay. Outside of Andi tossing you around the gym, that is."

"Ugh," Cora groaned, not meaning it at all. "Andi's brutal. But I'm learning a lot." She twisted her head back a little; Cait was still looking up at the sky with a contented smile. "So… why not show this to Dad?"

"I will," Cait said reassuringly. "I just thought you deserved to see it first. A little something special." She took a deep breath. "Cora… you know your dad and I love each other."

Cora laughed. "Duh! I mean, you're only absolutely disgustingly cute together, you know." Cait started to chuckle with her. "Dad's the happiest I've ever seen him."

"What about you?" Cait asked out of nowhere.

"Me?" Cora squeaked.

"You," Cait said firmly. "Your happiness matters, too. To both of us."

Cora really needed to think about that one, and Cait seemed perfectly willing to let her. With a shock, she realized she hadn't thought about Mom in days. And when she thought about all the things a mom was supposed to do… well, whether she realized it or not, Cait was. There was just one thing… Worry stabbed through her, but it was too late to go back. "Cait? Um… what would you say if I said I love you?"

Cait was very, very still for a moment, and Cora thought for sure she'd said the wrong thing, and then Cait's arm was around her and her voice was fogged by tears. "I'd say that would make me the luckiest person in the Systems, and that I love you right back." She laughed a little, like she couldn't quite believe it. "Well, in that case, Cora Coe… may I have your permission to marry your father?"

#starfield #cora coe #caitlyn lynch #fanfic #starfield fanfiction #eridani writes #coemancer #the coemancer crew #ask game #sensory prompt game #stars through my fingers like grains of sand

[desceros]

hi sam!! kind of a different request, but would you list as many of your favorite orchestral pieces as you can? association with turtles v welcome but also optional! i have trouble doing my coursework because i can't listen to anything in the background while doing it (shows, music with lyrics), but i listened to scheherazade because of you and really loved it, plus got some work done to boot!! i'm not sure where to start in looking for more music like that so i thought i'd ask you. :)

oohhhh what a FUN ask, thank you so much!! i promise i am going to TRY to be REASONABLE with how much i talk about this. if i really did mention "as many as i could" i think i'd find out if tumblr has a character limit in text posts, hahaha!

so my favorite symphony of ALL TIME is symphony 9 by dvorak. absolute must-listen. my favorite moment of the entire piece (which you HAVE to listen to the entire thing to get REALLY feral about) is the last huge chord progression in the fourth movement that takes the db major brass chords from the second movement and puts it to the BOMBASTIC TYMPANI EB MINOR EXTRAVAGANZA from the first movement and makes me want to CHEW THROUGH BEDROCK, RAHHH

aside from that, here are a few that i love a lot and totes recommend:

all of scheherezade is, of course, absolutely stunning. it's one of my favorite pieces of all time. if you haven't listened to the other movements, i highly recommend! in this same vein is you liked that are pieces like the stepps by borodin, the polovstian dances (also borodin), marche slav by tchaikovsky, and to some extent saint-saens piano concerto no. 5 has some similar themes, particularly in the absolutely DELICIOUS second movement. it's called "orientalism" and while the, uh, intent has a history of. to say generously. problematic undertones. the pieces themselves are lovely.

russian easter overture by rimsky korsakov. i played this one in high school and man. it's just so FUN and PRETTY.

symphonie fantastique by hector berlioz. it's the story of this dude having a really bad acid trip. no i'm not kidding. also the fifth movement has the dies irie in my favorite iteration ever. eat your heart out, mozart.

...actually just literally anything by tchaikovsky. gun to my head, i'd say he's my favorite classical composer. i'm partial to his ballet work because that's what i played a lot of personally, but his overtures and concertos are quite fun. his romeo and juliet overture is extremely famous (though i personally vastly prefer the opening part over the latter, more famous part). every violinist you ever meet will be traumatized by him, though. so do be careful.

speaking of concertos: my favorite (ugh. i'm a traitor) is probably the barber violin concerto. it just has this. cinematic vibe to it that makes me think of something magical.

(....though the elgar cello concerto and the grieg piano concerto may have something to say about this.)

the planets suite by holst is very fun. you've probably heard mars, and you may recall the romance theme from jupiter if you've seen the movie braveheart. it's one of those mainstream pieces most people have heard. my particular favorite movement is uranus. it's so bouncy and fun!!! classical headbanger music here

beethoven is quite fun to listen to. for his orchestral work, i'm partial to symphony no. 5 since that was the first one i played and the drama of it is enthralling. (yes. i think it's better than nine. sue me.). that said, between you and me, i like the egmont overture better than his symphonies. that low open c on the viola is just so god damned juicy—[door bangs open] OH NO. IT'S THE PRETENTIOUS POLICE. THEY FOUND ME

i'll stop there. these are a few symphonic pieces, since you asked for those specifically. i also really love chamber music (which is just the strings section, sans the woodwinds/brass/percussion/etc), but i find those amazing to listen to as well! anywho i hope you enjoy some slash all of these and good luck with your studies!!

#ask tag #i think this was reasonable for a sampling without going too overboard! #i'm the same about not being able to listen to music with lyrics. but i also can't listen to anything i've played #otherwise i start thinking about bowings and whatnot lmfaoooo

[hannahhook7744]

The Bad Apples!;

Band Poster I made based off of this and this.

Pictures I made.

Diego de Vil musician outfit board.

Album Cover:

The Bad Apple Songs (so far):

We're The Brunos.

You're Dead (To Me).

Don't Talk About The Dead Kids.

(Don't Talk About) The Isle Kids.

Wilted Petals.

Don’t Get Shot.

Rough House Rumble.

Where Are You, Peter Pan?

Who Made You King?

Where’s My Happy Ending?

Fuck Your Fairytale!

Bruised The Apple, Made It Rot.

What Did I Ever Do (To You?).

Wild Childs.

Bad Kids.

The Real Lost Kids.

Isle Life.

Santa Hates Isle Kids.

Afraid Of A Little Bad Luck.

LOl, Go to Hell.

Devil Child.

Bad, Bad Apples.

Monsters.

Cruella de Vil.

Kill the Beast.

Narcissus.

For All of You to See.

Whatever Happened to the Heroes.

(This Is Our) Swan Song.

Want You (Dead).

Under The Gloom.

Not Gonna Follow (Your Rules).

Never Gonna Be (Royalty).

Finders Keepers.

Got No Mom And Dad.

Don’t Choke.

The Crown.

For Real This Time.

Daddy (Mommy) Didn’t Love Me.

Poison Me Slowly.

A Warning To The Prophet.

It's A Brave New World.

Call Me Never.

Acid Trip.

Black And White.

We Will Fight To The Death!

I Hate You.

Smelling Flowers From Bellow.

Ain’t I A Rotter.

Saint Cyriacus (written to honor her brother of the same name).

God Help the Outcasts!

A Warning To The People.

Hellfire!

I Miss You.

Father, Why Have You Forsaken Me?

Not A Perfect Man, But A Good One (written by Claudine to honor her brother, Cesare).

Love is Love (Written to honor her brother, Cornel).

Bad Reputation.

Bow Before Me.

Respect Thy Name.

Veni, vidi, vici.

Alea iacta est.

Carpe diem.

Et tu, Brute?

If curious about any of the songs, lmk and I'll try to write a snippet of them. Thanks @panthera-tigris-venenata for the help coming up with the titles.

Also I headcanon that they do several different generes (Rock, Metal, Pop, Jazz, Blues, etc). Oh and that they have a band tattoo.

#descendants #disney descendants #melissa de la cruz #disney #descendants au #wicked world #disney descendants au #diego de vil #the bad apples #fake bands #claudine frollo #harriet hook #rick ratcliffe #clay clayton #ginny gothel #mad maddy #fan art #fan edits #etc

[flung-out-of-asgard]

Ok but why did you like madam web? I have no opnion on the movie and I'm not planning to see it but I do want to see why the few people that enjoyed it did

There’s many reasons. For starters it is extremely campy, and I love that. I kinda miss superhero movies that go the extra mile to be different, that they even become a little bit cheesy. I guess that’s why I also liked Multiverse of Madness, it was refreshing to have a different story AND visual storytelling, which takes me to my second point.

I’ve heard a lot of people complain about how superhero movies became kind of static, no camera movements, no different shots or angles to push the story forward. I am a professional story board artist, so I appreciate a lot when a movie isnt just telling you what’s going on just through dialogue, but composition and camera work. Yes, it’s a little sloppy in madame web, but I’m so glad it just isnt green screen 24/7 and its the editing and the cinematography what «shows you» Cassie’s abilities. That’s super creative!

Then I loved Cassie as a character, I related a lot to her. The snarky comments, the acid humor, the not knowing how to «properly» interact with other people. That felt so real! She felt like a real person, like someone I can be. I also enjoyed her connection to the girls, them all had great chemistry even if the script made their scenes trip a little, but the way them all shared things in common and became a family, I liked that, I’m a sucker for the found family trope. And also Cassie’s relationship with her mom, I understood that, and that hit me deeply.

Then as for the superhero part. I love that Cassie’s power isnt questioned or dismissed because she’s a woman. I’m VERY tired of movies having these hollow speeches of: ‘Oh, but I am a woman and that makes me strong’ or ‘we’ll take you down with female power’, or having male characters underestimating them for being women and then ‘learning their lesson’. This story never goes there and I appreciate it a lot.

I have many other reasons, but I’ll end just by saying that I’m a huge greek mythology nerd. And I enjoyed a lot Cassie’s story connecting with Cassandra, the seer whose visions weren’t believed. And also Oedipus as Ezekiel trying to avoid his fate.

Is it the best movie? Definitely not, but it’s not as bad as people have said. I believe that every movie has something good to highlight and enjoy and I enjoyed this one a lot! Also. Britney Spears and The Cranberries in the same soundtrack, that sounds fucking awesome.

#madame web #dont take my words as the final truth #this is what i enjoyed #every opinion on the film is valid

[jupipedia]

why didn’t you stop me? - k. nanami. “i know that i ended it, but why won’t you chase after me?” ex lovers.

part ii.

“let’s not see each other anymore.”

those words were like acid when they left y/n’s lips and now two years later, the bitter taste in the back of her throat as she stands face to face with her ex-boyfriend serves as a reminder of their past.

she doesn’t know why she’s so surprised to see him at gojo’s birthday celebration as they had all been good friends since before the two decided to date. he never missed one of gojo’s birthday celebrations, one-upping her as she missed his last celebration due to being overseas on a business trip, but she was anticipating his absence for some reason. even now as she stands face-to-face with the man, she wishes that she were to find his absence in his place.

she was the first to break the small staring contest that they were having once gojo noticed that she had arrived. once he called her name, she turned her attention to him, meeting his gaze. his eyes flickered to kento before returning to her and shooting a sympathetic look. she glanced back at nanami and offered a wordless bow before walking around him and toward gojo.

“happy birthday, old man,” y/n said, forcing herself to appear less shaken than she truly was.

“glad you could make it, little miss higher up. your six figure job finally let you go?” gojo teased.

“we aren’t all made for the sorcerer life. gotta make money somehow.”

gojo went to quip back, but as his eyes trailed behind y/n to who she assumed was nanami, his shoulders dropped. “about nanami, i–.”

“why wouldn’t he be here, satoru? you guys are good friends,” y/n dismissed, pushing the forgotten present towards the man. “now, enjoy the booze. i’ve got a few students to harass before we eat.”

before the man could utter another word, y/n was already walking towards yuuji, nobara, and megumi, ruffling the latter’s hair before sitting with them. gojo looked away from y/n, only to find nanami still looking at y/n. gojo approached him, hoping to lift his spirits.

“don’t just stand there, nanamin. socialize.”

“i do not want to.”

“too bad. it’s my birthday, so you have to listen to me.”

it wasn’t long before gojo sent the students back to the academy to rest, leaving the adults to mingle amongst themselves in the late hours of the night. y/n was glad that she was sitting in between gojo and who she assumed to be a new teacher. nanami was sitting diagonally from her, refusing to face her direction unlike his prior behavior of tracking her every movement.

“how are you getting home tonight, y/n?” one of gojo’s friends asked as he motioned to the glass in front of her. “you drove, right?”

“it’s water. i don’t drink much,” y/n reassured. gojo turned to his best friend in shock.

“since when don’t you drink? i remember when you out drank all of us a few years back just to prove a point,” gojo chuckled as y/n shoved him with her shoulder.

“since i started to feel the effects of what liquor does to my liver. it’s a bad habit to have, y’know,” y/n joked, earning a few giggles from those at the table.

“oh, you all went to school together? i thought just gojo and nanami went to the academy. are you also a sorcerer?” another one of his very friends asked.

“i used to be. i also used to teach at the academy, but shit happens and now i work as an executive in real estate,” y/n explained, taking a sip of water and avoiding nanami’s blank stare that he now aimed in her direction.

“that would explain the tension between you and nanami,” the same drunk friend commented offhandedly. y/n froze in her seat when nanami audibly put his glass down. “oh, i’m sorry. that was rude.”

“you’re fine, no worries,” y/n said, going to stand up. “i’ll be back. the smell of alcohol is making me a bit queasy.”

gojo shot her a look, silently asking if she was okay. she sent him a quick nod before grabbing her jacket and walking out the door. she didn’t go far, opting to sit on the curb that was right outside of the building. she lit herself one of the cigarettes from her jacket pocket and sighed as she exhaled the smoke.

y/n wanted to laugh at how pathetic she felt when it came to seeing and being around nanami. she wanted to cringe at how eager she was to get up from the table when nanami barely even acknowledged what the other person said. she didn’t expect him to still be heartbroken over something that happened two years ago, but she was still upset to see that he wasn’t as bothered as she was.

as she took her final inhale before putting the cigarette out, she heard footsteps approaching her from behind. she blew out the smoke in her lungs before speaking. “satoru, i said i was fine.”

“you quit one bad habit to pick up another?” y/n’s skin crawled at the sound of nanami’s nonchalant tone, not expecting his presence.

“didn’t take you to be a smoker. you used to gag at the scent of the smoke. wonder what changed,” he continued when didn’t receive a response from the girl.

“not much. just thought i’d give it a try one day,” y/n responded, flicking the bud away from her and into the street.

“why?”

“why?” he asked her as the two of them stood in front of his house.

“things aren’t going well between us. and i don’t think i can make you happy like you want me to,” y/n answered, fighting the urge to cry as she forced a gentle smile. for a few minutes, it was just the two of them standing in silence as she waited for his response.

“okay. let’s not see each other anymore,” nanami agreed, turning away from the girl and entering his home. y/n’s face changed to one of wounded surprise as she waited for him to come back and question her more. she waited for him to open the door and ask how they could fix things or why she thought she couldn’t make him happy.

she wanted him to ask her to not break up.

she didn’t want to break up with him. he was everything she wanted and more. he was kind and he listened to her ramble about something she just found out about that same day. he accompanied her on her walks and trips to the market. they usually took on curses as a team. he would tend to her wounds before his own. why would she want to break up with him?

after a few minutes of waiting, y/n turned away from his door and began to make her way back to her house, not making half-way down the walkway before breaking into harsh sobs.

why didn’t he chase after me?

“thought it would help with stress. news flash, it didn’t,” y/n said, standing up and turning to face him.

“that’s not what i’m asking. why did you really break up with me?”

oh.

y/n wanted to tell him the truth. that she broke up with him because she was scared that he would do it first. because sometimes he looked like he was bored when he saw her. because he didn’t seem like he loved her as much as she loved him. but that’s too hard for her to admit.

so she became selfish.

“things weren’t as great as we thought they would be. that’s all,” y/n answered, checking her phone to see the time. “could you tell satoru that i had to leave because i have work in the morning? i have to go in early tomorrow.”

“okay.”

“it was nice seeing you, ke-…nanami.”

“okay.”

y/n took that as her time to leave as she turned around and began to walk to her car, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. she had almost reached her car before deciding to spin around to see if kento was still standing there.

he was.

‘why didn’t you stop me?’ she thought as the tears began to fall from her eyes.

“why didn’t you stop me?”

© jupipedia—do not repost, plagiarized, or falsely claim my work. likes, comments, and reblogs are welcome!

#— (jupipedia.) #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jujutsu kaisen nanami #anime x black!reader #nanami x fem!reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #*ੈ✩‧₊˚❕*∘∘˙˚༄💨 ( a jupiter production. )

[mxbenz]

The Music Shall Caress You

A Tarn/Pharma RP - Mature Content

this is an RP written by my friend @mal-co-holic and me. if you like it, follow both of us for updates! and let us know your thoughts

Summary: Shortly after beginning their (rather one-sided) “deal,” Pharma tries to seduce Tarn to lessen the burden of cogs. The attempt is largely unsuccessful but is just the beginning of an affair that could very well ruin Pharma’s life.

Warnings: Manipulation, dub-con, abusive behavior, you know. Tarnma-typical

PHARMA:

Pharma was at his wits end. There were only three deaths that season. Three.

He needed five cogs.

Tarn was due to come to Delphi any day now, expecting one surgery and the four remaining cogs safely packaged for his trip back to the Peaceful Tyranny.

He did his best not to let his worry show, to keep himself as strict and stoic on the floor as possible to avoid arousing any suspicion from his staff, but internally, Pharma was panicking. There was simply nothing to be helped though, he couldn't just magically procure new cogs out of thin air. Unlike most parts, T-cogs and other vital organs were pure sentio metallico and could not be manufactured in mass production.

And even if they could be, it wasn't like he was a blacksmith capable of such a feat.

So what could he offer in their place? What would appease a merciless sadist like Tarn?

If he didn't think of something, they'd all be slaughtered. Everything he'd worked for, all the people he was trying to protect would be...would be-

Images of corpses flashed before his eyes, some of the most heinous damage Pharma had ever seen. Some of them, the less fortunate ones, were even still alive, but there was no saving them. Nothing more they could do aside from snuff their spark in a mercy-killing.

Do no harm. He had harmed...but it was always necessary. Not like Tarn.

Swallowing, Pharma stared down at the three cogs he had managed to procure.

Perhaps...if he prostated himself enough, humilated himself in front of Tarn, they might be spared? The tank certainly seemed to get a kick out of frightening Pharma and having an Autobot under his boot. If he just leaned into the torment, maybe...just maybe-

Or Tarn could simply humiliate him and then kill him anyway. Pour acid into the wound.

Pharma swore and covered his face with trembling hands. He'd managed to do this for a year now with each visit escalating the number of cogs. It was always unsustainable, but Pharma had hoped he would have figured a way out of the dilemma before now.

Now here he was...two cogs short and running out of time.

TARN:

Once Tarn had realized that he could stretch this little deal just as far as he wanted with few if any consequences, well…he was hardly the sort of mech one should allow free reign.

And besides, even with the greater number of cogs at each turn, he still would return to Delphi in more or less the same amount of time. He was going through his cogs faster and faster. Turned out that having the access had only allowed him the pleasure of indulgence.

In more ways than one.

Seeing Pharma had become nearly as sweet as the cog replacement itself (that blissful rush of fresh chems to his processor). The medic was always a sight for sore optics— a beautiful, sleek flight frame that was as well-maintained and the care with which Pharma handled one of his precious cogs. The desire to get his servos on that frame— let his digits prod unwelcome in the chinks of his armor. It was nearly impossible to give in at times. Especially when he watched the medic’s flawless servos work practiced magic on his cogs, each transplant smoother than the last.

He came his usual path that day, taking his altmode most of the journey to the facility from his ship. He arrived at the lower level door where Pharma had directed him the very first iteration of their little deal. An unmanned service entrance. Standing outside the steel door, he sent a comm to his favorite good doctor: I have arrived for my profference, Pharma dear.

PHARMA

Pharma twitched at the notification, already knowing just who was comming him at this hour. Well...the moment of truth. He would either die tonight or live along enough to suffer through the next cog delivery.

At this point, he honestly wasn't sure which was worse.

Exhaling, Pharma unlocked the door and packed up the two remaining cogs, leaving one out for immediate replacement. Then he waited, his spark pounding in his chamber. A few minutes passed and then a familiar set of footsteps could be heard, followed by the sound of the door to the secret lab unlatching.

Tarn emerged and Pharma stiffened, standing up as straight as he could given the circumstances. "You should have given me a bit more notice," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're lucky I was already down here." He hoped the snark hid his underlying fear, but somehow he knew Tarn would pick up on it.

It always felt like the tank could hear his spark even without using that torturous outlier ability of his...

TARN

Tarn only smirked as the doctor immediately began his typical charge of chastising him. This was, what Tarn had fondly come to think of as, their pre-surgery banter.

“Of course, Pharma,” he soothed as he walked inside only when entrance was offered. He, of course, attempted to maintain cordiality with Pharma even if the other mech was at times less inclined. Tarn preferred to keep things civil if possible.

“I will attempt to give you an hour or so notice in the future.”

Nevertheless, he could practically feel the other mech’s spark shuddering in its chamber. As always, he would attempt to soothe the doctor’s fear, at least to the extent it was advantageous.

“It’s been some time, though. I thought you might appreciate a surprise drop in from a friend and colleague.”

PHARMA

"The keywords there being friends and colleagues," Pharma said with a pointed frown. "You are neither." Perhaps he shouldn't be so crass with Tarn. He probably should be sucking up to the other mech in preparation for the prostration to come...but he just couldn't help rising to the bait.

He gestured loosely at the medical slab and said, "Shall we get to it then?" At least while Tarn was being operated on, he could broach the...news and not get mauled. Tarn wouldn't dare attack him mid-surgery so it was the best protection he could give himself.

Stepping back, Pharma allowed Tarn to inspect the cog he'd left out, knowing the other mech would not let him install anything without manual confirmation. It was simply protocol at this point for them, just as habitual as the banter.

TARN

Obviously, Pharma wasn’t willing to make nice today. Tarn had learned it really depended on the day whether he could get even an humored scoff out of the jet. He did enjoy such moments nonetheless.

He looked over the cog with a practiced eye and a concentrated frown.

Determining it passable, he turned away and headed for the medical slab.

“In such a rush, Pharma? I thought we might engage in some pleasant conversation.”

Even as he spoke though, he sat on the slab and laid back, bending an arm behind his helm.

“Admittedly, you’re a much better conversationalist than I usually have access to. I quite enjoy our visits.”

PHARMA

Pharma scowled and waited for Tarn to get onto the slab before he began to prepare the tools he'd need. He set everything down and took stock before applying some nerve blocker to Tarn's hip. "Actually, I did want to talk," he muttered, doing his best to affect an air of nonchalance as he took his favorite laser scalpel and began to cut into the metal. "About our deal."

Slow and steady, both with his knife and his words. Pharma didn't look up at Tarn as he continued. "In the case where not enough patients die to meet the quota. I was hoping to discuss a possible alternative. Something else that could be exchanged and make up for the difference."

His spark pounded against his chest, each word feeling like a weight pressing down on him until he was metaphorically pinned to the floor. He knew Tarn was looking at him, but he refused to meet those red eyes, instead removing the burnt out cog and placing it on the tray he'd set aside.

"I..." Pharma swallowed, furrowing his brow as he reached for the new cog. "I've seen the way you look at me, Tarn. If it will save my staff and my patients-" He fit the new cog in, linking it to Tarn's systems. "I'll let you...have me..."

TARN

Have me.

Tarn froze, staring down at the doctor who seemed to avidly be avoiding his gaze. And then he smiled, despite the twinge of anger that burned in his chassis at the suggestion. So Pharma was already trying to weasel his way out of the deal?

And after Tarn had been so generous.

He stayed silent. Long enough for Pharma to question himself. For him to get a feeling that the medic’s spark was beginning to tremble in fear. That was where he preferred to keep him. Just on the Edge of being actually scared. The threat of real consequences hovering on the horizon.

“My dear doctor,” Tarn said finally. “That’s rather presumptuous….unless, of course, you’re fully prepared for today’s trade off.” He hummed, leaning his head back against the slab. He’d watched the surgery enough times to know the steps well.

“I take my deals very seriously, Pharma. I would expect you not to presume a negotiation unless you think the alternative is truly just as valuable.”

#tf #Tarnma #tf tarn #tf pharma #tarn #Pharma #mtmte #mtmte tarn #mtmte pharma #roleplay #tf fic #transformers

[knoxville-coroner]

Hey ravers it’s festival season and it’s getting hotter so here’s some tips to be safe and have a fun time!

Non drug related tips:

*always try to wear ear protection. I know. Everyone says it. But honestly you’ll know why if you’ve gone to a rave.

*kandi beads melt with sunscreen. If you want to wear Kandi a sleeve under or putting it around a belt will protect them

*for the underground/indoor ravers: vapor nose sticks. Please invest. Those places smell like cigarettes and weed and ass but one of these little guys fixed it

*I cannot stress this enough TURN ON FIND MY PHONE AND PASSWORD LOCK IT. If you can afford any sort of phone holder/anti theft device I would suggest that. Phone thief’s run wild. I have seen these around to help prevent that but I suggest clipping it inside your bag

*hand sanitizer on the back of your neck and on your forehead both helps cool you off and keep you from feeling all sticky and gross after awhile!

* pair it with a hand fan. I know a lot of ravers say they hate fans but honestly as long as ur not continuously clacking it you should not have an issue. Those fans save so many people from heat stroke. Also YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BUY THEM FROM FESTIVALS!!!!!! you can buy them at the dollar store. They may be smaller but they work just the same.

*for first time ravers please take note of what age group your event is for. If it’s all ages you should be prepared to interact with people sometimes as young as 13 14-adult age. If it’s 18+ be prepared to talk to anyone 18-40’s (that doesn’t mean older ravers don’t exist I just never met many personally) and 21+ is also self explanatory

*etsy and this website are cool for fancy beads! In fact on the basehead beads website rn you can buy palastine beads that support Palestine! So it’s a double win. However if you can’t afford the fancier beads Walmart and other stores have the normal Kandi beads as well as some charms to spice it up!

*there is more ways to trade Kandi than plur! However not many of them are well known but when a raver wants to show you a new version pass on the knowledge! (I cannot find a video of the other ways and they are hard to describe)

*bring little items to give out! I personally like cheap rubber ducks and small solid ducks as well but I have been given erasers, little cheap toys, worm on a string etc!

!Drug Cw under more!

Drug related tips

* if you are rolling/tripping please PLEASE set timers to drink water every 30-40 minutes or so. No matter how your stomach feels take at least a sip.

*pacifers and gum work VERY well for protecting the sides of your mouth

*B12 vitamins help if you are consuming nitrous. Also please make sure to take deep breaths in between.

*molly should not only be tested for fent but meth as well

*test acid for NBOMBs

*DO NOT do substances if you have to hike a long way to get to the rave spot. I don’t know WHY people think it’s a good idea to be rolling near cliff edges or in caves. But you know

*if you are taking acid Uber home. Your trip has NOT ended by the time that rave is over unless you are at a festival.

*here’s a guide for supplements you should take before and after rolling to prevent serotonin syndrome and a bad come down

Tips for oding:

*always administer narcan even if you don’t know what substance they are on. If it’s not fent or an opioid it will do nothing. But if it is you can save a life

*call 911 immediately or have someone do it for you

*WAIT FOR MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS TO GET THERE TO DISCLOSE WHAT THEY TOOK! But do not hide it from medical professionals/ambulance workers but do not say a word to police or operators about the possibility of an od. Say you need emergency help now and the person seems to be struggling to breath.

*when the ambulance gets there THEN disclose if you know what drugs they have taken anything ONLY TO MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS.

*how to administer narcan

#raver #rave tips #festival #harm reduction #cw overdose #mda #mdma #acid #drugs #drug tw #Kandi #kandi kid