#but ive been noticing this. Thing. in my brain where nothing is fucking sticking to it

[zhalar]

yeah i dont really consider myself that socially anxious anymore [<- speaks on the phone about grownup things for 15 minutes and my fingertips start to sweat]

#I LOVE HAVING A BODY #särmäs sermons #good news everyboy i have acquired a summer job :) now if i only figured out what im gonna do once autumn rolls around.... #.... that everyboy was a typo that i dont wanna fix actually #i still have to apply to schooling . tho im not sure if i HAVE to do it or if its just advised or whatever. i do want to its just that #i still dont know what the hell i wanna do. i had a little expedition at a woodworking/carpenter school #~vocational school~ that is. and im running outta time to apply so i could start in august. #seemed pretty fun seemed like the sorta thing i might WANT to do #but ive been noticing this. Thing. in my brain where nothing is fucking sticking to it #i dont know how to learn and also to keep that knowledge. cant see myself learning how to use all those big scary machines. #its really fucking with my confidence to even applyyyy even tho all the people there were so nice and confident that anyone could learnnnnn #oh well. these are my problems. there are others but i'll spiral about them once theyre more timely and relevant lmao #DO WE THINK I SHOULD TRY GETTING MY ASS TO SPEAK WITH A PROFESSIONAL

[fikefries]

wisdom; matt sturniolo

summary: you had to get your wisdom teeth out, but with your extreme phobia of needles, it wasnt going to be easy. luckily your boyfriend matt and his brothers stick by your side the entire time.

warnings: needles, mentions of rapid breathing, dentists, anaesthesia

the day had come. the day you had been dreading for weeks.

you had to get your wisdom teeth out.

normally, you werent such a wuss, you handled pain and hospitals well.

but needles.

you couldnt stand the sight of needles. their pricky ends and shiny surface making you feel lightheaded at the sight of them.

thats what make you so nervous for today, the part where they had to stab your arm with a huge ass needle to get the IV in.

you were on the way to the dentists office, your boyfriend matt sitting in the drivers seat, your best friend chris in the passenger seat, while you and your bff nick sat together in the back.

all three of them knew of your phobia of needles, so they were trying their best to calm you down before you got there.

"no chris you dont understand, how can i 'chill out' knowing a huge fucking metal pointy thing is going to be stabbed directly into my goddamn bloodflow, have you seen the length of those fuckin needles?" i say to chris frustratedly as he tried to explain to me that it was no big deal.

chris sighed in defeat as he gave up on trying to reason with you.

my nerves were increasing by the second as we got closer and closer to the dentists office.

matt noticed your anxious state and pulled over at the last stop sign before you reached the dentists office. he turned around leaned back to face you, cupping your cheek with his hand, softly caressing your face in an attempt to comfort you and calm you down.

"listen baby, i know you're nervous- i know that alright? but you need to stay calm for me. ill be there with you the entire time okay? theres no need to worry or be scared, nothings going to happen to you. you have us by your side."

you felt nick rub a soothing hand over your back as chris added

"yeah y/n, dont worry if the needle hurts you ill beat it up" making punching motions with his fist.

you couldnt help but giggle at chris's attempt to lighten the mood.

"alright baby you ready to go in?" matt asked softly holding your hand tightly.

"ready" you sighed, knowing there was no getting out of this.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

the lights in the dentists office were blindingly bright white, forcing you to squint your eyes while you walked in. as you entered, you noticed all the dentist equipment sitting on the spotless metal counters, wires of different colours spread out all over the floor, connected to the dental bed.

the dentist was explaining the procedure to you, matt, nick and chris. but his words became more and more muffled in your brain as you look around the room. finally laying eyes on the needles.

matt sensed your change in demeanour as he noticed your breathing became increasingly rapid. he came up behind you, softly hugging your waist and moving you to the spot he was originally, blocking your eyes from the view of the needles. then wrapping an arm around you and tracing soft patterns on your shoulder while glancing at your face every few seconds to make sure you're not panicking, as you both continued to listen to the dentists explanation.

after the briefing about the procedure, it was time for it to actually happen. matt helped you up onto the dental bed, placing his hand on the back of your head to make sure you dont hit it as you lay back.

chris stood to the right of the bed, rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder

"you're gonna kill it y/n" he said supportingly

"yeah unless it kills me" you snorted, joking, making the boys giggle before returning to comforting you with small rubs and words of support whilst the dentist set up his equipment.

chris and nick left the room for a bit, wanting to give both you and the dentist space, as they knew it wouldnt be easy for you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

it was time. time for the part you were dreading most. you stared at the long silver blade as the dentist filled it with the medicine that needed to be injected into you through the IV, matt standing beside the bed.

"hey- hey y/n, dont look at that, look at me okay." he said as he slowly moved your head towards him, trying to distract you from the needle.

"just look at me okay, youre doing so good baby im so proud of you."

you stared into matts big blue eyes as he gave you soft affirmations, how did you get so lucky?

matt saw the doctor getting ready to insert the needle into your skin, so he pulled your hoodie down to cover your eyes, and cradled your face into his tshirt, running his fingers through your hair, trying to distract you from what was about to come.

"you're doing so good for me baby, the worst parts almost over"

when you felt the cold metal pierce your skin, you leaned further into matt, trying not to embarrass yourself by whimpering or making any embarrassing sounds. as the needle was being pushed deeper in, you squeezed your eyes shut tightly.

"matttt" you groaned, on the verge of tears, muffled by his tshirt.

"i know baby, i know- youre almost done, you did amazing." he reassured you, holding your head into his shirt and smoothing down your hair while he watched you squirm in his embrace, his heart breaking at the sight.

once the IV was fully in, matt slowly loosened his grip on you, pulling you out of his embrace as you leaned back onto the bed, just then you heard the door open revealing chris and nick walking back in.

"you did it y/n!" chris exclaimed, placing a hand on your head

"we're so proud of you" nick added, patting his hand on your leg as reassurance

"that fuckin sucked" you slurred, the anaesthesia kicking in.

"ooh y/n's getting drowsy now, thats the anaesthesia kicking in" nick said

"how do you feel baby" matt asked rubbing your shoulder

"all i can feel is this fucking dumb bitchass needle in my goddamn arm" you replied, words slurring, making the boys break out into laughter at your choice of wording.

"well now the worsts part over baby, you faced your fear so well."

"hmmmm" you hummed in reply, feeling too drowsy to think

through your blurred vision you looked up at the 3 boys

"you guys look the same" you said

"matt.i love you so fuckin much" you added immediately without giving them time to reply

"and chris and nick i love you guys too"

the boys giggled at your sudden affection

"we love you too y/n" nick giggled

'you're so pretty matty" you admired, reaching your hand out to matt's face, making chris and nick giggle.

"you're the prettiest girl in the world baby, and i love you so much, but right now you gotta keep your hands down okay? if you keep your hands still we can get out of here faster and go get ice cream okay" matt retorted

"can we play ayesha erotica on the way home?" you asked innocently, looking up at matt with pleading eyes.

"yes y/n we can play ayesha erotica"

"i wanna go the fuck home" you said, before falling into a deep sleep due to the anaesthesia.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

outside the room

y/n was undergoing the procedure of getting her teeth taken out now, which means the boys had to leave the room.

"matt you do you feel" chris asked, throwing a shoulder around his brother, recording him on his iphone.

"im so proud of her, i know she was scared and i know she'd beeen feeling pain so its a relief that she was able to pull through and face her fears. i knew she could do it shes my girl." matt said to the phone

"thats adorable" nick giggled, before the doctor called them to come back in.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

you were now fully awake, 4 teeth less than before, with gauze in your mouth and a frown on your face

"hi baby, you such an amazing job. im so fucking proud of you right now." matt said as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead, unable to wipe the smile off his face as he admired how cute you looked, mouth swollen, and filled with gauze that made your cheeks puffy, and an adorable frown on your forehead.

"youre crazy y/n, you made that look so easy" nick said rubbing your head.

"can we go home now please" you said grumpily, anaesthesia still now worn off.

"i want this fucking shit out of my body" you said referring to the IV in your arm, as you tried to yank it out.

"WOAH NO- NO Y/N YOU CANT PULL IT OUT" matt exclaimed worriedly.

"baby you need that in you, it helps you not feel the pain in your mouth."

"matt whats this" you asked sticking your tongue out

"thats your tongue baby"

"i cant feel it, or my lips, where are my lips?"

"theyre right here" matt replied as he gently pressed a finger to your lips, giving you the perfect oppurtunity to place a soft kiss on the pad of his finger, making him giggle,

"i want chipotle" you stated bluntly

"no- no chipotle, she cant have any hard foods that may get stuck in her mouth for atleast two weeks, stick to ice creams, soups and mashed potatoes." the dentist told matt, knowing you wouldnt be able to remember this information.

"heard that baby? ice cream and mashed potatoes- doesnt that sound great?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

you got to leave the dentist in a wheelchair, which was pretty great.

once you got home, matt ordered you chicken noodle soup and fed it to you while you guys watched spongebob, then he cleaned and replaced your gauze, then helped you get changed and into bed, holding you tightly as you both drifted off into sleep.

you could not have asked for a better boyfriend than matthew sturniolo, you really hit the jackpot.

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #christopher owen sturniolo #nate doe #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo triplets smut

[the-galaxy-collector]

heart/beats

Pairing: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski

Word Count: 2.1K

Warning(s): fluff, sick stiles, derek hale is bad at feelings

Summary: Stiles gets sick while the gang is away. Derek comes back to check on him. 

A/N: I think as is becoming common for me in the Teen Wolf fandom, this just poured out of me with no prior warning and I regret nothing. 

Stiles stood up, or he tried, before his body forced him to sit back down on the edge of his bed. He’d been trying to work up both the strength and the courage to take a shower for the past thirty minutes, but he was still here. In the exact same position. Trying not to puke all over his pajamas. 

A very attractive look, if he did say so himself. 

He closed his eyes and willed the room to stop spinning, but he knew it was pointless. He’d been sick for the last two days and whatever the hell this shit was, it didn't seem to be going anywhere. 

Everyone was gone too, which made it worse. They were off saving the world from… something. He couldn’t remember now. Something way more important than Stiles, though. And he wasn’t bitter about it. He knew what they were doing was a big deal. It was just that right now he wanted chicken soup like his mom used to make and someone to tuck him back into bed. 

After a shower, he reminded himself. The shower was still a must. 

Stiles took a deep, steadying breath and forced himself up with shaky limbs. He held out his arms, forcing himself to remain balanced and upright, as he started to walk forward gingerly. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

He yelped as his eyes popped back open at the noise. He didn’t know he wasn’t alone, and his heart was racing uncomfortably as he clutched his chest now over it. 

“What the fuck am I doing?” He gulped. “What the fuck are you doing? Why are you here?”

“You’re sick,” Derek explained bluntly. 

“Yes, I am aware of that,” Stiles bit back. “Go. I’m fine.”

“You definitely are not. We need to go to the hospital, Stiles.”

“We need to go to the hospital, Stiles,” he mocked in a high-pitched voice. “You sound like that, you know.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Derek. You guys are off, ya know, saving the world or whatever. And I’ll be fine. Just go help them.”

“They don’t need my help.”

“And neither do I,” Stiles insisted. 

“Why are you like this?” he said, a smile in his voice. “You make me crazy. You know that, right?”

“No,” he replied sarcastically. “Really?”

When he went to roll his eyes at Derek’s stubborn nature, like he’d done a million and a half times, his head pulsed suddenly with a headache so severe it caused him to fall to his knees. Derek was by his side within seconds, his hands on either side of his face as he forced Stiles to look at him. 

He pulled back his eyelids one at a time, and whatever he saw there made him hoist Stiles off the floor without a word, and carry him from the room. Stiles wanted to put up a fight, tell Derek to put him down, that he was going to be fine. It was just the flu or something non-lethal to teenagers, but pressed up against Derek’s chest like this was warm and comfortable and he found it very difficult to hold other thoughts in his brain right now. 

Derek took him straight outside and propped him up in the front seat of his own car before buckling him in and rushing around to the driver’s side. He knew how much Derek hated the Jeep, which meant that he either was doing it for Stiles’ sake or because he had run all the way here without his own car because it wasn’t fast enough. Stiles wasn’t sure which one was sweeter. 

“Stiles, I swear to God,” Derek growled, “if you die, I’m gonna kill you.”

Stiles snorted his laughter despite the pounding in his head, currently radiating out from behind his left eye. 

“When’s the last time you ate?” Derek asked softly. 

Too softly. Like he was actually worried. Which stressed out Stiles more than he thought it would. Or should. 

Stiles shrugged his answer, and even that tiny movement sent a jolt of pain down his spine. But he wasn’t lying. He honestly couldn’t remember when he had put food in his mouth last, which was probably not great. 

Derek growled again, and while it was affecting Stiles like it always did, the dull ache covering his entire body pushed any stupid, horny thoughts out of his brain. 

At least for now. 

He knew they’d be back, especially if Derek was going to stick around. Stiles sort of hated that. Especially since Derek could tell. Hiding things from werewolves, as he’d learned, was not possible. It wasn’t awkward at all. 

Yep, he definitely hated that. 

Derek continued to slam his foot and the gas pedal all the way to the floorboard as he drove, but it didn’t do any good. It never did. The Jeep was ancient, one of the things Stiles loved about it, and it wasn’t ever going to go faster than this. But Derek was wonderfully impatient, often with Stiles, or things that involved  Stiles. 

Another endearing quality that would normally make his heart all aflutter. But right now, he was in too much pain. 

The sunlight streaming in was making his head hurt worse, though, so he laid it down on the console in between him and Derek and tried not to focus on the fact that the traditionally very grumpy man was rubbing Stiles’ leg absentmindedly as he made his way through the streets of Beacon Hills. 

Derek had never been one to touch anyone for any reason, so clearly Stiles was dying. Or Derek thought he was. He couldn’t think of any other reason why he might be doing that, but again, he had no strength left to even ask.

Stiles didn’t think he was ready for the answer. Or, more appropriately, he knew he wasn’t ready for the brush off. 

Stiles half expected Derek to pull straight into the emergency room bay where only the ambulances are supposed to go with the way he was acting, but he found a normal spot. And just like when they got into the car, he rushed around and helped Stiles out. Like being away from Stiles for even the shortest amount of time was too much for Derek to handle. Yeah, Stiles was dying and Derek felt bad for him. There were no other explanations.

He even tried to carry him bridal style again, but Stiles managed to put his foot down. 

Well, not literally. But he made it clear that wasn’t happening in front of all these people. 

He had some dignity left.

The harsh fluorescents assaulted his eyes worse than the sunlight, and he found, once again, that he needed to slam his eyes shut to keep from hurling all over himself. And Derek. 

“Oh my God,” Melissa asked from somewhere nearby. “What happened?”

“Well, my idiot has been sick for the last two days and he didn’t call anyone and now I’m afraid he’s dehydrated and about to pass out.”

Melissa giggled at Derek’s assessment as she ushered them back to what Stiles was sure was a room, but all he could concentrate on was the fact that Derek had said my idiot. My idiot. Like Stiles belonged to him. 

Not that Stiles would complain if that were true. 

Derek put him down on the bed as soon as the door shut behind them and dimmed the lights, allowing Stiles to open his eyes again. Melissa was already rushing around getting things set up as Derek forced him to lay down. He hadn’t even stopped to put shoes on, so when he pulled the covers up to Stiles’ chin, he couldn’t really protest. 

Too much anyway. 

“Derek, stop,” he said, pushing his hands away. “I’m not an invalid.”

Derek rolled his eyes and sat down in a chair, pulling it up as close to the side of Stiles’ bed as he could get without actually being in the bed. 

“All right, Stiles. You ready?”

He nodded as he felt the coolness from an alcohol prep pad next and then hissed loudly as the IV slid into his arm. No matter how many times he’d been forced to do this, it didn’t get easier. And it should be by now, he reasoned, since hanging out with werewolves had some disadvantages. Not many, but some. If you were unlucky enough to be the only human anyway. 

Stiles didn’t miss the way that Derek flinched a little at his pain, though, causing his eyebrows to pull in the middle. He was getting more confused, and more concerned, by the second. 

Something was definitely going on. 

“Honey, I’m gonna take some blood, give you some fluids, and bring some food. Do you think you can eat?”

Stiles shrugged again, swallowing hard as his mouth filled with saliva. The thought of eating anything made his stomach do a flip, which probably wasn’t a good sign, but he could try. He certainly knew he should try. 

“I can give you something to help you sleep, if you wanna do that instead, but we’re gonna have to wake you up in, like, an hour to try to get something in your stomach. Or I’m gonna have to feed you some Ensure.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose. “Like they give old people?”

Melissa nodded. “No. Just knock me out and then wake me up later. I promise I’ll try. But do not give me that shi… stuff.”

It didn’t matter how old he got, cussing in front of Melissa always felt wrong somehow. She just laughed quietly, though, and shook her head as she finished hooking him up to everything, forcing Derek to move only when it was absolutely necessary. 

A couple minutes after she pushed something directly into his line, he started to feel sleepy. Like actually sleepy. Not this fitful mess he’d been enjoying for over 48 hours. 

And he let his eyes close without a word. 

He couldn’t be sure if it had been a few minutes or hours, but when he started to wake back up, he heard Derek’s soft voice beside him. He sounded like he might be talking to someone, but since Stiles’ eyelids were still way too heavy to open, he just listened. 

As the grogginess slowly lifted, he noticed Derek was holding his hand. Actually holding his hand. In both of his. His head and, more importantly, his lips were resting next to Stiles’ skin. He could feel Derek’s breath.  

Wait, am I dead? 

“Does he know yet?” Melissa whispered. 

“No,” Derek said, just as quiet. 

“When are you gonna tell him?”

“Well, I came back to do that and he was about to pass out. I got distracted,” he explained, exasperation taking over momentarily. “But I guess I knew something was wrong.” 

“Of course you did,” Melissa insisted. “He’s your mate.” 

Mate?! 

Okay, Stiles was definitely dead. Or dreaming. Hopefully dreaming. At least that way he could still wake up. 

Melissa didn’t wait for Derek to respond before she asked another question. “Talk to Noah yet?” 

“Yeah.”

Once again, Derek lapsed into silence. But it wasn’t long before Melissa got irritated with his lack of information on the topic. 

“And?” she huffed.

“He told me he’d kill me if I hurt him.”

She laughed again, still as softly as before. Stiles could hear her walk back to the door, enjoying her little private joke.

“Well, you’re safe,” she said, pausing at the threshold. “We both know you’re not capable of that.”

“Mhmm,” he answered. 

“Derek?”

“Yeah?” he asked, moving his head to the side.

And suddenly Stiles had a new thing he hated now. The way Derek sounded asking that one question. It was vulnerable, like Derek’s entire nervous system was on the outside. All exposed and raw. He wanted very much to get out of this bed and protect him, but that didn’t make any sense. Derek didn’t need to be protected. It was Derek. 

“You’re gonna be great,” Melissa declared. 

And then she left him with that, allowing the door to close behind her without waiting for him to argue. 

After a few seconds, Derek cleared his throat. “How, uh, much of that did you hear?”

Stiles forced himself to remain as still and quiet as possible, not even allowing his breathing to pick up. He would give Derek an out. 

“I can hear your heartbeat, Stiles,” Derek explained. “I know you’re awake.”

Stiles couldn’t help but smirk. It was his go-to response, sure, but it also seemed to fit the occasion. 

“Mate, huh?” 

Derek groaned loudly and Stiles opened his eyes slowly. “When did you plan on telling me, Sourwolf?”

[come join all the Teen Wolf fandom shenanigans over at the Beacon Hills Preserve Discord Server]

#sterek #sterek fanfic #sterek fanfiction #sterek fic #mates #sourwolf reference #sourwolf #derek hale is bad at feelings #derek hale #stiles stilinski #derek hale x stiles stilinski #derek x stiles #fanfic #fanfiction #stiles gets sick #derek takes care of him #fluff #sterek fluff #sterek mates #sick!stiles #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #one-shot #sterek one-shot

[cottoncandy-jester]

✨Lie down darling, it's time for a dream✨

Stuffed (incubus!nishinoya x reader x priest!asahi)

Okay so for the longest time i didn't know what to write for them but after listening to three yagami yato audios back to back I realized Im a sinner..so yeah have this

This story contains: nasty unprotected sex, Double penetration, aheago, feral nishinoya, breeding kink,asahi losing his shit during sex, asahi calls you mommy a few times, light degrading, preluding to semnophilia

As much as I adore male reader cause I'm a boy but, this will be a female reader worry not I'll be spamming out some male reader stuff after this for a bit

"father, I have done a terrible thing.. something horrible"

The sound of your voice from the other side of the confessional made asahi twitch slightly before he calmly leaned back to listen to you. You were innocent, sweet and pure but lately he's noticed changes that worried him greatly, your clothes that usually were modest now revealed a teasing amount of your thighs or chest so of course when he heard your words he was alert yet calm..just what did you do?

"this is a judgement free zone, speak your mind"

"I've let a sinful demon tempt me.."

You what?

Hearing your words made the priest grip the white beaded cross necklace hanging around his neck as his mind started to get foggy at the thought of a demon hurting you in any way, you were too sweet and adorable for this!

"tell me, what has this demon done to you? Has he hurt you?"

Asahi's voice was laced with worry that quickly turned into fear when he heard a small embarrassed whimper from the other side. After a few seconds he heard your quivering voice

"E-Every night the demon comes into my window, he touches me in ways that I've never been touched, every night he-"

"has he fucked you? Does he fill you up? have you kissed him?"

Asahi spoke in a low tone with a shaky breath. He should feel worry for you but instead a feeling of pure jealousy burned through him, the thought of someone seeing your face twist with pleasure or the thought of someone kissing your soft skin while pounding you made him see red.

"yes father, am i too late to be saved?"

Your soft helpless tone made asahi shudder as his mind drifted to unholy thoughts. How would you look sucking him off? What face would you make when he eats you out til you are shaking? How would you taste against his tongue?

"father asahi?"

"ah you're not! Its never too late to be saved! You said it comes every night? How about I spend the night in your home so when the demon comes I'll deal with it"

His plan made you smile brightly before you let out a joyful giggle. You couldn't help but sound so cute as you thanked him before leaving the wooden box.

So day soon turns to night, asahi laid on your couch asleep before a creaking sound stirred him awake. He checked the time only to see that it was two in the morning, the male let's out a low sigh as he stretched before going to your room to check on you only to hear sounds of a creaking bed along with voices.

"oooh [y/n] your nipples are so hard and perked for me, hehehe do you like it when I flick them like this?

Asahi couldn't recognize that voice so he softly opened the door and peeked inside only to see you tied with your hands above your head and your clothes completely ripped off with an incubus straddling your hips. Asahi should burst in there, he should be slamming the door open and throwing that demon off you but he couldnt help but watch as this demon leaned his head down to lick and suck your nipples

"n-nishinoya-"

"this is the first time you called out to me like that..do it again"

So the demon's name was nishinoya? Why did you know that? How did you know that? Asahi was curious about such details but his mind blanked when he heard a loud whimper escape your lips, when he turned his attention back to you the demon in question has his face shoved in between your legs licking and sucking at your clit as if his life depended on it.

Asahi felt his cock twitch in his pants as your lewd moans ringed through his ears. His entire body started to shake as he bit his bottom lip roughly. He wanted to be the one to make you moan like that, he wanted to be the one making you screaming his name.

Just as asahi was going to burst in he watched as the demon pull back and both his and asahi's eyes locked before nishinoya gave a sly smirk while licking his lips.

"her pussy tastes like whip cream, so sweet and yummy so why don't you come and get a taste instead of watching like a pervert or are all preists this sinful?"

Asahi tensed up at his remark before standing up straight before opening the door and closing it behind him. His eyes travelled to you who couodnt even look him in the eyes.

"f-fathe-"

Nishinoya shoved his demon tail down your throat with a light shudder. He gazed at you with a sadistic gleam before a sly smile was on his face.

"hush babe, the grown up are talking so just be a good girl and suck on my tail like it's a nice juicy cock okay? If you promise not to bite I'll fuck you extra hard tonight"

His words shook both you and asahi but you did as he said and started to suck his tail which filled your mouth nicely while nishinoya tried not to shudder and show just how good that felt.

"d-demon! I've come to exorcise you! P-prepare to go back to hell where you belong!"

"funny how you say that but where's your Bible? Your holy water? Holy items? not even a single talisman..all you brought is a big bulge so let's just be honest here hmm?"

Asahi felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him as he glanced down only to see that he was fully hard, he took a step forward his mind clouding with lust as he watched you suck and moan against that filthy demon's tail.

"A-as a priest I'm supposed to take you down, I'll warn you once to release her from your captivity and surrender"

Asahi's shaky words were met with nishinoya letting out a loud chuckle before his eyes travelled to you before he reached our and trailed his finger along your drenched slit which made you shudder with bliss before he decided to stick two fingers inside your sopping wet hole.

"listen here, father she let's me do this cause she wants to, hell she would die without my cock stretching her wall each night. Ive cummed inside her so much It would be no surprise if she was pregnant"

His words made your walls clench around his fingers which cause the male to release a low growl, he definitely needed to fuck you soon or else he was gonna lose his mind.

"Ooh she likes to think of being pregnant, how about instead of trying to fight let's share this night hmm? Come onnn look at her she's just begging for a cock to fuck her so two would drive her absolutely insane. Give into your urges"

Asahi didn't know if it was demonic magic or his mind just snapping but before he knew it he was stripping down while walking towards you and nishinoya. His eyes were clouding with lust as he left himself in only his boxers

Nishinoya licked his lips before simply took his tail out your mouth before feeling you of your binds. You sat up now looking at the two men with a look of worry, you could barley take nishinoya and his thick cock but now two of them?

"alright pretty girl! Here's what's gonna happen, me and Mr holy over here are gonna fuck your brains out until the smell of cock and cum become your natural scent okay? Okay!"

Nishinoya and his cheerful tone made you shiver as you watched his tail wag side to side like he was some excited puppy. Asahi looked confused on what to do so he gave nishinoya a panicked gaze which made the demon burst out laughing

"are you a virgin?! Pfffft! Hahahah! Oh my! Okay, I'll tell you what to do only cause you look so cute! Lay down on the bed and princess here will get on top"

Just explaining what will happen made asahi blush before he gulped harshly and did as he was told. What was this going to feel like? He wasn't sure but he knew it would be better than touch himself in the late hours of the night.

"n-nishinoya I don't know about this, I mean-" you were cut off by the demon's loud whistling as he yanked asahi's boxers down only to see his çock spring up.

"talk about a long boy! Sorry I got you beat in girth though, but I guess it's not bad right princess?"

Nishinoya turned to you who was just staring with a look drowning with lust. Nishinoya knew that look on your face and moved to you only to lick the drool dribbling down your chin

"now now you hungry slut, you can choke on his cock next round but for now let's fuck that cute pussy to oblivion"

His words made you whine before he gave your ass a hard slap before pointing to a nervous looking asahi

"now, hands and knees above him don't you dare put him in you without me saying so, or else I'll have to break you even more than I already am about to"

Nishinoya watched as you crawled into of asahi before shakily looking down at him. You've had sex many many times next to nishinoya but also fucking asahi scared you since he was your priest.

"so fragile, you're shaking lets not be scared alright?"

Asahi's soft words made you melt as you felt him reach up to touch your cheek. You leaned down and gave him a soft kiss only to moan harshly against his lips as something thick slammed into you. With a shaky breath you pulled away only to glance back to see nishinoya on his knees behind you with a fake innocent grin.

"oops- sorry did I ruin your moment?"

Asahi looked at your face only to feel something snap in his mind, the way your face became flushed and your eyes tightly closed made him shudder before his body moved on its own. He wrapped his arms around you before pulling you against his chest only to shove himself inside you along with nishinoya.

You let out a loud shocked gasp our reaction was nothing compared to asahi who was gritting his teeth with eyes rolling back slightly, how could someone be so tight?!

"feels good huh? Oh this is nothing..come now father, can you really not move? Well if you're not gonna move I will"

Nishinoya started to thrust roughly in and out of you with a shaky sigh as he felt his and asahi's cock rubbing against each other, not only that but you were clenching so tight that he could swear he could see stars.

"ngh- demon.. you're rubbing against me like that"

Asahi's choked words were followed by his thrusts, he wasn't as rough as nishinoya but he was thrusting quite fast. he just couldn't stop his body from thrusting up against you over and over again. You both were slowing becoming a mess, drooling and whining came from you both as you two locked eyes

"[y/n]! So tight! Your pussy is so tight and wet I just can't take it! Do you hear it? That wet sound? Ahh it's so lewd! This is so lewd! [Y/n]! I cant stop- don't make me stop please please please!"

Asahi was losing his mind while he slammed his hips wildly and to make it worse this chaotic energy was only riling nishinoya up to the point where he was a snarling mess now digging his nails Into your hips while slamming in and out of you

"fuck! You are so good! Such a good girl..the way your pussy is miking me, beg for me princess beg for my demon seed come now beg for it already or I'll fucking stop"

The utter thought of stopping made you whine louder than you already were and you wiggled your hips desperately like a bitch in heat

"please! Noya! Asahi! Fuck me more! Ahh- please please! Breed me so good!"

Just like that your words caused the two men to lose their sanity even more. Asahi was in tears as he rapidly thrusts in and out of you like a rabbit now having breeding on his mind. He forced you to look at him as he gave you a sloppy messy kiss that left saliva on you both

"m-my baby! Have my baby! My baby mine not that demon's but mine! Ahh- please [y/n]! Bear my children!"

His whining sobbing pleas seemed to annoy nishinoya who pulled you back against him while his hand gripped your throat. He thrusted deep inside you while licking your neck along with biting at it.

"his baby? Fuck no. Have mine. My demon spawn would look so cute growing in your tummy, fuck princess it's gonna be me who gets your pregnant okay?"

Your mind was starting to go blank as your climax was coming close and just as you were were gonna turn to kiss nishinoya you felt hands cupping your breasts. You turn to face asahi who now sat up to hold you as well his mouth drooling and slobbering all over your breasts as he felt close. His hair was a mess but the look in his eyes was that of a desperate needy man losing his mind.

"be the mommy to my baby, you right that right? Mommy..please please please! Ah I can't wait to see your breasts swell with milk so please..ah! Please I'm gonna cum!"

His loud whines and use of the word mommy did something to you that you didn't know could happen to you but you felt your climax building up but before you can announce it nishinoya simply grunted lowly in your ear as his grip around your throat tightened.

"I can feel it, cum already cum around our cocks like I know you want to, you want us to fill up your needy pussy, you're so desperate for cum that your drooling and sticking your tongue out like a bitch so cum already"

His harsh words were the last thing you needed before your walls tightened and you climaxed with a loud screaming moan.

"yes, yes yes yes yes! [Y/n]! Yes! It feels..so good!"

"hah- ah, damn priest you moan like a little whore..it's so fucking hot!"

As the two cummed inside you at the same time you felt your mind breaking and it left you twitching and shaking in their arms.

When you three laid down on the bed nishinoya glanced at you and asahi who were both making such a lewd face that his cock twitched. He honestly wasn't even close to being finished but it seems that humans get tired so he was greatly annoyed to see you both start to fall asleep.

Nishinoya sighs as a smile graced his face before he cracked his neck while hovering over you and asahi's cuddling bodies.

"sorry sweeties I'm not done yet, but don't worry you can enjoy your nap"

#yuu nishinoya #asahi azumane #haikyuu imagines

[sanstropfremir]

I’ve noticed that the best stages have less of a storyline and more of a setting. Like BTOB are backstage of a concert or set in some point in the past, Ateez are pirates or over throwing the gov, SF9 are in a gang but the second we start going off on “sacrificing our soul to save a child and now we’re in hell and Felix is a demon” I get lost but also the stage itself seems to get lost. Like I can’t anchor myself and the cool gimmicks they’re pulling don’t have much of impact on me so the stage doesn’t remain in my mind. Also this is probably the adhd talking but the more random shit you throw at me without any reason the less likely it sticks in my brain. I can’t tell you anything that happened in TBZ’s first stage besides I thought the dancer’s coats were cool but I am never going to forget Seonghwa in a corset marching down that line of dancers shooting down a fucking kraken. This is also why I really like Ikon stages-little to no story to wrap my pea brain around. They’re just singers, rappers, and dancers doing their thing on a fancy stage and though I adore the drama of the musical stages (when done well) I can also appreciate Ikon sticking to their guns and just giving me a good time. Like I’d rather have fun with a simple yet effective hype stage than sit through 6 minutes of 15 layers of bullshit “depth” that adds nothing to a lackluster performance. Like come on guys we’re not writing a philosophy paper, I’m just here for Bobby to shake his ass so let’s keep it moving.

i know what you mean! although obviously i love it when there’s a fun and well produced storyline, this show is not deep enough to be pulling out the big jesus guns on the second full stage, especially if the performance isnt already at top level. 

i feel like i’ve never actually like, said this in any of my reviews because i don’t even think about it anymore because its like, literally the first thing you learn in design school but youre absolutely right, its the setting that matters, not necessarily the narrative. after all, thats what the set is there for: to establish setting. in kpop they name this as ‘concept,’ which is really just a different word that ticks all the same boxes. but having clarity of setting is so important. it tells us when and where and gives us reference so we have a grounding, and then we can watch pretty boys sing and dance and do backflips or whatever. it never needs to be that deep but a good, well thought out setting does so much work subconciously and often people dont realize until something is a little off and they cant name why. the work of a designer is invisible a lot of the time, but its there in even when it doesnt seem like it. 

obviously for this show every group is going to keep ramping up the scale and i really do hope that the groups kick back more in the way that btob did, which was focus on putting on a good performance in a fun setting. ive seen a lot of people saying how the rtk stages have been more interesting and thats because for rtk the groups were doing exactly this; taking a song and dropping it into a fresh concept. oneus’ lit, pentagon’s follow, verivery’s mansae, too’s hard carry, verivery’s photo, oneus’ be mine, onf’s it’s raining all have super clear settings but not necessarily any narrative; theyre all just fun to watch! i’d love to start seeing more of that in the next stage. at least i want to see skz and tbz loosen up on whatever theyve been doing, because trying to grasp at the ultra-grand is whats consistently putting them at the bottom of the rankings. just have some fun boys!!

#kingdom #kpop questions #i went back and watched all the rtk stages recently so thats why i remember who did what #anyways there's a longer rant about my opinions on tbzs stages/trends in my episode 4 review if you want #tldr is they shot themselves in the foot with the connected stages nonsense in rtk #and they dont have a good enough ad or designer to actually pull it off #ANYWAYS #im looking forward to boys being dumb and having fun in episode 6 #text #rainbowchild421 #kingdom asks

[dinolikes]

IMPOSTER - PART FOUR

summery ❤︎ Nobody has any quirks and are stuck on a ship like among us

pairings ❤︎ Imposter!Dabi x Reader

content warnings ❤︎ major character deaths

| prev.|

it was quiet for a long time, nothing except deku's quiet cries, until hawks turned around to look at the couple.

"where were you guys?"

hawks looked you up and down and noticed dabis messed up hair and your still swollen lips and squinted his eyes, "wonder girl, your with me,"

"the hell she is-"

"listen asshole! another kid is dead and I dont need you guys whor-"

"you better fucking watch your next words carefully bird brain!" dabi's called hawks names before, but this time it seemed more vicious.

"why? do you wanna stay with her so you can murder her next?"

dabi raised his fist but you grabbed his shoulder, instantly stopping him, "dabi, it's fine. ill see you soon, we'll do our rounds and then we'll be fine. the kids dont need this drama,"

touya looked at you for what seemed like an hour before finally lowering his fist, refusing to look you in the eyes as he stormed off.

you look at shoto and deku, pulling them close and giving each of them a kiss on the forehead, "stick together." you give them a warning look, them both murmuring in understanding. "good, now off you go," you struggled to see them walk away, alone, knowing there was another imposter on the loose and either one of them could be next.

hawks broke your worrying thoughts, "ive asked before and ill ask again, how're you dating dabi?"

you roll your eyes, " and ill always give the exact same answer, once he likes you, you'll get it."

he didnt respond but the look in his eyes gave his thoughts away.

"he didn't kill kaachan, i was with him the entire time."

"maybe, but were you with him when ingeniumu died? thirteen?" you opened your mouth to say that you were in the same bed when thirteen wouldve been killed, but hawks beat you to it, "correction, were you AWAKE and with dabi when thirteen was killed?"

you paused but you kept your head held up high, "why are you so dead set that its dabi? huh? why dont you think me?"

"because all the evidence points to him!"

"what fucking evidence hawks!?"

"its obvious your emotions are clouding you judgement wonder! you didnt fight this much with tomura!"

"that's because tomura was an asshole who hated all of us!"

"so is dabi!"

"sure but hes an asshole who SPECIFICALLY hated tomura! why would he work with him?"

"maybe that's part of their plan!"

"you SAW them! they hated eachother!"

"people can act!"

"yeah obviously cause your acting like a fucking dick right now when I know you arent!"

"why? because I'm pointing out that your boyfriend is a murderer?!"

you flinched when you heard a bang and you snapped towards the noise, seeing dabi at the doorway with his fist against the wall, which now had an indent exactly where his hand was.

"touya-" before you could stop him, your boyfriend turned around and stormed off, again.

you shot a quick glare at hawks before going after him, not even worrying about going off alone.

"touya! come back! you know i dont believe him right!"

you walked up and down the halls, peaking your head in a room every once and a while, always coming up with nothing.

"touya!" you felt like when you were 13, your dog had ran away and you were running up and down the streets calling his name, only to get no response.

you eventually found your dog. but he was on the road, dead, tire tracks ran through him.

you called touya's name louder and became distinctly more aware that you were alone.

the beeping on your watch made you jump half way out of your skin, you lightly laughed at yourself before the realization set in.

emergency meeting. that probably meant a body was found.

you ran towards the cafeteria where once again, everyone sat.

that is except hawks.

both deku and shoto looked frightened at the sight of you, even going as far as stepping back when you came in.

it broke your heart and you were confused, did they not trust you?

that is until you realised that you were supposed to be with hawks.

oh my god, you were supposed to be with hawks.

"WAIT! no no no! I-I can explain!" dabi nodded, thankfully looking like he knew you were innocent, "hawks was talking about dabi! l-like badly! an-and dabi walked in and he got upset by his words -which by the way," you directed your attention at dabi for a moment "i was defending you babe i swear- but-but dabi ran out and i tried looking for him but i couldnt find him and oh my god i should've been with hawks!"

dabi quickly nodded, almost embarrassingly, "yeah, i heard her yelling after me,"

shoto and deku relaxed after you explained and dabi confirmed, but deku quickly stiffened again.

"you mean dabi you were alone?"

dabi paled as he realised he fucked up.

"wait no! well yes but no! shut up!"

deku scrambled back, grabbing shotos hand to drag them over to your side of the table.

fuck wait- what?

"n-now hold on- we cant just accuse dabi!"

"me and shoto were together in medbay the entire time! if it isnt you then its dabi! twice said there was one more!"

"w-well how do we know we can trust twice? he WAS the imposter!" you desperately cried, dabi nodding quickly.

"exactly! hes a murder how do w-"

"i believe deku." shoto said, so quietly you could barely hear him. he didnt look up at anyone, avoiding the eyes of his brother.

"sho-" dabi took a step forward but shoto quickly stepped back, keeping the same long distance between them, pushing both you and deku back with you.

you frantically look at dabi, who had a look of genuine hurt, "n-no! dabi isnt the imposter!"

"hey," you snap your head towards shoto, who had finally looked up so you could clearly see the tears in his eyes, "this isnt easy, but your emotions are clouding your judgement."

you thought back to hawk's words, he told you the exact same thing.

you look back and forth between dabi and the boys, both looking desperately at you.

"cmon y/n, your my doll! i would never betray you like this!" your eyes soften as dabi almost pulls you forward with his voice.

"hes lying!" deku cried, pulling you back, "he was mad at hawks right? no one sees him and now hawks is gone!"

he had a point and you hated you, your eyes welled up as you thought about it.

"doll trust me! i swear!"

"dont trust him!"

you thought to hawks words, he didnt like anyone.

he only liked you and shoto, who just so happen to be alive. the one he could stand is dead, but he was more useful dead then alive to him.

you didnt sleep much but you DID sleep, and you could almost remember waking up to dabi walking back into the room, claiming he needed to use the washroom.

he was mad at hawks.

you look behind dabi and see the room used to push the imposters out, the door open. all you had to do was shove him in quickly and pull the lever.

"doll," you look dabi in the eyes, seeing him plead with you. "cmon y/n, please."

you step forward towards dabi, "did you do it? be honest with me, did you do it?"

something flashed in dabi's eyes, "no."

and grief filled you, because you realised that at this moment, you didnt believe him.

you looked away as you raised your arms, pushing him into the room and locking it.

dabi's eyes widen in shock but soon squint to hide the tears.

"I love you y/n." he choked out

you look him in the eyes, "I love you too." you yank down the lever, sending him flying into space and you into a fit of hysteria.

you sobbed so hard you fell down, shoto and deku attempting to comfort you but you push them off,

"sho, how about you and deku go watch a movie in your room." shoto slowly nods, taken deku away.

when the door closes you let out a sob.

how was shoto doing this? he acted so, so strong.

i mean i guess he was related to touya, hes gotta be strong.

you lightly laugh.

you couldnt believe it

touya, the love of your life, was dead.

and you killed him.

you were wracked with grief, questions rang through your head like what if you were wrong, what if twice was lying?

even worse though, what if twice wasnt? what if you werent wrong?

you didnt think it would be either deku or shoto, but the voice in the back of your head always pointed out how deku always was a bit too peppy, and shoto always seemed apathetic to everything. you always shook those thoughts out though.

the worse of the ideas though, was what if you were right? then what, was all of your moments with touya just...nothing? was he just using you as a good alibi? because he knew you were less likely to suspect him?

it wasnt until weeks later, when headquarters had called you in that you found out.

they had all of the survivors (which was just you, deku and shoto) and asked if they wanted to see the footage, which would prove if you were right or not.

you all agreed, though you more hesitant.

what if you were wrong?

you changed your mind, being wrong is a LOT worse then being right.

you couldnt confirm that though, because when they pressed play, there dabi was, all sweaty and standing above thirteens body.

they also showed tomura infront of ingeniumu, twice infront of kaachan, and dabi infront of hawks.

you all were crying, there were your friends, murdering your other friends. you could barely hold in your sobs.

as you all walked out, none of you said anything and just kept walking down and out the building.

it wasnt until you felt the soft breeze that you spoke up, "are you guys still up for that froyo?"

they slightly smile and nod.

tag list - @axerrri @underratedmage

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #mha dabi #mha headcanons #mha imagines #mha x y/n #dabi is touya #among us #touya todoroki #touya x reader #toya todoroki #bnha dabi #bnha #bnha x y/n

[missaudreyhorney]

Imagine seeing David Harbour at a frozen yogurt shop

I was scrolling through Instagram this morning and saw this picture. The thing that struck me most about it was this quality of him looking like a regular handsome guy that you could ostensibly run into anywhere. That quality of his is a lot of what appeals to me about him, the idea that he’s just a “sexy normal dude” as Milla Jovovich put it. 

Quickly I started to imagine a scenario in which shy!Reader happens to run into him and how I think that would play out. It was really helpful to use this picture as a prompt for my writing since Ive been feeling stuck with my other projects over the past couple of days. I know real person fiction is often frowned upon but this is more of a silly writing exercise than anything else. Please enjoy! (T for language, multiple uses of “Daddy”, 1.6k words)

It has been a long, stressful week for you and it’s looking like next week won’t be any different. All you want on this Sunday afternoon is some frozen yogurt. Nothing else. You don’t even ask any of your friends to go with you, you just get in your car and drive to the nearest place that comes up on GPS.

The first thing you see upon walking into the place is a cute dad standing at the counter, paying for his order. He’s wearing a dark purple t-shirt, black jeans, and a pair of sunglasses on top of his head. He’s actually more than cute, he’s really hot. You can’t help but stare at his muscular forearms and huge hands as you get in line. The top of his yogurt cup is covered in whipped cream and he has a tiny dollop of it on his left hand. Your mind goes straight into the gutter at the sight of it.

When he moves to sit down at one of the tables, you realize that there are no kids with him, just two other adults. He’s not actually a dad, at least not from what you can tell. He just looks like a dad and gives off that authoritative energy that only sexy older men possess. You didn’t see a wedding ring when you were staring at his hands so hopefully he’s single. Hopefully, as if you’d ever have the nerve to approach this man and ask him out on a date.

When it’s your turn to order, you get strawberry shortcake, a safe choice since you’ve never been here before. As the cashier tells you your total, you hear the man’s booming voice behind you. He’s not trying to be loud, he’s just a big guy who speaks with a lot of passion and enthusiasm. The voice almost sounds familiar to you. Almost like someone you know but you don’t know anyone this handsome in real life. Digging out a couple of coins from your wallet, it dawns on you where you’ve heard his voice before.

Stranger Things. On Netflix. That’s not just any random hot guy that you were staring at, that’s David fucking Harbour! Your entire body freezes in place and your mind goes blank. The one solitary thought in your head is the sound of his voice. His deep, sexy voice. One that has the power both to soothe and to provoke. You close your eyes and listen to him, almost getting lost in a trance. The cashier repeats your total back to you and your eyes shoot open again. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you say as you hand them your money then turn around to find somewhere to sit.

Your eyes dart around the room, looking for empty tables. There’s plenty available but only one that’s close enough to him without being too obvious. From this vantage point, you should be able to look at him without him noticing too much that you’re fully staring. Taking a deep breath, you set your cup down on the table, pull the chair out, and sit down. Finally, you look at him again, trying to extinguish that lingering doubt that it’s really him and your thirsty brain isn’t just playing tricks on you. His blue eyes, his beard, his dimples, and the teensy little mole on the back of his right hand all confirm your suspicion. It is him! There’s absolutely no denying it now.

No wonder you felt so short when you walked past him, the man is 6’3” for christsake. You know that from Googling him before, as you’ve done so multiple times. It’s been a while since you’ve watched Strangers Things, but every time you do, you catch yourself having a crush on Chief Jim Hopper. How could you not? He is the epitome of a Hot Dad, a total DILF. You've even fantasized about calling him Daddy before, and here he is, in the flesh, eating frozen yogurt and drinking his coffee just a few feet away from you. The idea of asking him out seems infinitely more impossible now than it did when you thought he was just an average, albeit gorgeous guy.

It isn’t until now that you regret not inviting anyone to come here with you because you already know that none of your friends are going to believe it when you tell them that you saw David Harbour in person. They’re going to say that it was just wishful thinking and probably tease you about liking him so much, about all the Hopper fanfiction you’ve read. Oh gosh, the fanfiction. The thoughts you’ve had about the character that this man plays are absolutely filthy. If you’re being completely honest with yourself, those thoughts were never restricted solely to his character. You’ve had just as many, if not more, wild fantasies about the man himself. You blush at all the times you’ve said that you wouldn’t be able to control yourself if you ever met him.

This isn’t technically meeting him though. This is accidentally running into him somewhere and wrestling with yourself about what to do next. The way he talks and the way he smiles seems so warm and friendly. Surely he wouldn’t mind you coming over to his table for a brief moment just to say hi, maybe get an autograph, maybe a hug if you’re feeling extra bold. He probably wouldn’t mind, you’re not sure if you’d be able to deal with it. What if you go to speak to him and no words come out? What if he does hug you and as you feel his strong arms wrapped around you, you get lost in the moment and accidentally call him Daddy? That would be absolutely humiliating and you'd never be able to forget it.

For now, you just watch him, almost like it’s a scene from the show. Both of you eat your frozen yogurt, but you’re so enraptured by him that you’re not really paying attention to the taste or the temperature. All your attention is on him, the way he opens his mouth slightly, sticking his tongue out a bit to meet the spoon as it touches his lips. Oh, how you wish you were that spoon, that he might touch you with his tongue. After what feels like either a second or an hour, but is probably only ten minutes, he gazes to the side and his eyes meet yours. You let out a soft gasp and immediately look down at your table, the beauty and intensity of his dark blue eyes just too much for you to handle. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment at the prospect of him catching you staring at him. When you look back up, your hands trembling just a little bit, he’s no longer looking at you, but he has the most amazing smile on his face.

Aside from the spoon, you feel an additional inkling of jealousy towards the people he’s with. They all seem to be close friends, based on how they’re interacting with each other. He’s so engaging in the way that he speaks with them, the way that he listens so intently. Multiple times, he has both of them laughing. Sometimes it’s more of an inside joke that you don’t understand, and sometimes it's something that makes you want to laugh as well, although you hold back since you’re not supposed to be eavesdropping. Even if you didn’t want to listen to his conversation, it would be hard not to. He has such a big presence, it practically fills up the entire room. If your eyes were able to unglue from him and look around, you’re certain that you wouldn’t be the only one that’s preoccupied with him.

After glancing down at your cup to check how much frozen yogurt is left, your eyes go back to him and see that he and the people he came with are getting up to leave. There’s a weight in your chest at the thought of him going without you having exchanged a single word. Not only that, but you won’t even be able to look at him anymore. Once they’re all standing, a woman comes up to him and asks for a picture. He could not possibly be any more kind and gracious to her. He gives such a cute little smirk as he poses for the picture and chats with her a bit before she sits back down. It’s one of the most adorable things you’ve ever seen.

Now is your chance! Now you have to say something to him! You already know he’s going to be sweet to you if you approach him but it’s not his reaction that you’re worried about, it’s yours. If you talk to him and accidentally say something stupid, he’s not going to mind at all but you will. You’ll think about it every single day. As he walks from his table to the front door, he profusely thanks the people working behind the counter and you feel like your heart is going to burst because of how nice he is. He nears the exit and it’s literally now or never as you have absolutely no idea when you might ever see him again.

There’s so much you want to say, so much you need to say. All these pining, appreciative thoughts race through your head, wanting to jump out of your mouth. Each of them are quieted when he looks at you. Not in your general vicinity, but directly at you. He gives you another amazing smile that makes you completely melt inside. “Bye,” he says to you casually. “Bye,” you respond wistfully, a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. The smile stays on his face as he leaves and puts his sunglasses back on. Your heart is beating a mile a minute while you watch him walk away. You will think about this every single day, not because you made a fool of yourself but because David Harbour noticed you.

#David Harbour #jim hopper imagine #David Harbour imagine #Hopper x Reader #Hopper x You #gender neutral reader #I did it #I don't care if this is embarrassing #im just practicing

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

14. A Shot in the Dark Part 2

Upfront: It has been a long time since I’ve known somebody who got shot (well enough) to have the exact parameters of how the hospital etiquette is, so I’m basically going to tap into the last time, and since that was about a decade ago and also in my hometown, Idk how far off the way that they handle it is. I’ll try to fill in the spaces with how not as close associates have portrayed their experiences with similar crises and maybe pepper in a little imagination for flow of story. But, the main takeaway is that the chapter has a heavy police presence and I know that can be extremely difficult to digest for people.

He had been crying for most of the night. He wasn’t that adverse to crying. Physically, it was a good release for emotions that the brain was trying to process. He did wish that he could stop for longer than fifteen minutes here and there, but there was too much happening in his heart and mind. It had been two hours. The police had talked to him, then he had to wait for detectives, and they were a “good cop, bad cop” team that he would have expected only in a fictional work, and that was fitting, since none of this felt real. 

The way that Grace’s body shivered in his arms, then just… stopped moving. The way that she wasn’t breathing and he was too scared to let go of her wound to try to administer CPR… The way that he was convinced that he was watching the love of his life die in his arms and the fact that she had been in surgery for two hours and nobody but police and detectives would speak to him about anything, yet, nobody would try to contact her family, despite him repeating to them that she was Ambassador Monroe’s daughter…

3:48 am - At least they had contacted Sunetra. Apparently, she was Grace St. Catherine’s listed emergency contact. She and Xander showed up about an hour after Simon had been sitting there, with the police. Whenever they came in, both of them noticed him and he could see that Xander looked equal amounts of confused, angry, and scared. Sunny was less readable, only seeming to be curious, but rushed over to him, while the police tried to intercept her. “What happened?” she asked, over their shoulders. 

Simon stared at her, glanced at Xander, and even though everything in him wanted to say, “You left her to fucking die is what happened!” Instead, he said very softly, “Grace and I were on a date and she got shot…” Sunny had an emotional response. She began to let tears fall from her eyes, though the rest of her was unresponsive as the police gently guided her away, asking that she and Simon don’t talk.

Xander had a look of… realization and resignation. Simon was gonna cover for them again. He and Sunny could stick with the alibi that they would have used if Grace had been found dead in the alley… “Is she dead?” Xander asked, shaking and crying/

“Surgery…” Simon said, feeling… equal parts bad for him but still extremely pissed off. He knew that he cared, he did know that… but they just LEFT her. They left her to die, not knowing that Simon was there for her, to avenge her nor to save her. They had left her to die in an alley and would have just… moved on without her, like they’d done with Heath. He felt his own tears forming again, angry ones this time around and he wiped at them with his sleeve.  She deserved better. 

At least now, he was ready to make his phone call. He just… didn’t want to potentially be arrested if Grace was gonna be alone. Hopefully, somebody would call her parents. She wasn’t close to them, but she loved them a lot, and they deserved to know where she was. She deserved to have them there for her. “Mom…”

“Simon? Baby, it’s 3 am, what in the world is going on?”

He sobbed and said, “Grace was shot..”

He heard the wind leave his mother like she’d just been hit. “Oh my God, Simon. Baby, I am so sorry. Where are you, I’ll come right down!”

“I’m at the hospital. The police want to talk to me. I’m scared that… That they’ll make me leave her here… that they might arrest me.” There was a pause, and he knew that she was trying to process something… “I was just trying to protect her. I killed somebody… He shot her and I…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. It wasn’t even the fact that he had done it, but telling his mother was… harder than he imagined when he mustered up the courage to call her.

“I’m gonna call the lawyer and come down there. What hospital?”

.

 Simon wrote something on her hand. 

It's not the first thing that she noticed. That was the room. A hospital room.  What happened? For a moment, she didn’t even know who she was, much less where exactly she was and why, but her brain read her surroundings as a hospital room, and whatever happened, she felt very fuzzy headed and resolved not to say anything aloud until she could figure out more about what happened and why.

The second thing that she noticed was the badge.

It had a visceral and sobering affect on her. She thought about the ACAB button on her favorite canvas bag and her body felt actual elevated pain at even seeing the symbol - a symbol she hated and did not trust. The badge holder spoke, seeing that she was now awake, she mentally noted, not caring that she couldn’t POSSIBLY look like she was capable of holding a conversation, because she still was trying to figure out what happened. “Miss St. Catherine?”

“Monroe,” she groaned.  Bitch, was that YOUR voice? She wondered, hearing something that sounded gross and pained come out of her and feeling a tremendous strain as the word flowed from her lips, even as her mind told her not to say THAT. Monroe. She hadn’t used that name in years, but… her brain still automatically spat it out when addressed. “Ugh…” she finally remembered more. Monroe. That’s correct. She had parents and her last name, from them had been Monroe. It took her a while to push out her explanation - both energy and concentration that the badge holder allowed her to power through. “I’m the daughter of Gethsemane Monroe… and Ambrose! Ambrose Monroe. Call him… My father… I’m… hurting…”

The third thing that she noticed was her pain. You’d think it would be instant, but her brain spent so much energy trying to formulate words and connect them to thoughts of questions that she hadn’t. But, by God, now she did.

“You’ve gotten medical attention, but we will contact your parents.”

“Cool. They’ll call the family lawyer.”

“You think that you need a lawyer?”

“I  don’t  think that you should talk to me in my condition. Can hardly think, and I’m in pain. I’ve…”  I’ve been shot! THAT’S what happened. She remembered. Her blood pressure spiked at this realization. “Simon!” Her voice was stronger, in her panic and she moved quite violently, only to realize that she was handcuffed to the hospital bed. Both her wrist and her gsw hurt in that moment and she laid down, breathing hard and holding herself with her free hand.

“Simon Laurent?” The badge holder had been unmoved by her sudden jolt, and unphased by her obvious pain. 

“I hope that whatever is in this IV doesn’t make me forget that you’re trying to talk to me in my condition, after the fact that I asked for my lawyer. I hope that they have a lot to say about me being chained to this bed after getting shot.”

The doctor had arrived to check on her and the detective ducked out, with Grace glaring at him. They brought her blood pressure down, gave her more pain medicine and spoke to her about her injuries and procedures. “Am I going to make it?”

“I think so. Good thing that your friend was there.”

“Simon! Is  he okay?” her pulse shot up. 

“Please try to remain calm, Miss St. Catherine. He wasn’t harmed.” She sighed and rested against the pillow.  That wasn’t what I asked…  But,  that was when she noticed it:

“Remember our last date night! XOXO Simon”  The doctor left the room as she stared at the sloppily written message, knowing that even though it looked shaky and/or rushed that it was Simon’s handwriting and he MUST have written it while she was injured… she knew this was an important message.  Our last date night? Like… last date-date, date night or last “date night” date night? No… not our last date. There’s nothing special about that.  He had recently asked her about their “last date night,” so she knew that must have been what he meant.  Remember our last date night! XOXO Simon… 

She knew what she needed to do. She waited, trying to breathe and meditate, silently hoping and wishing that she knew Simon as well as she knew that he knew her. She looked at the clock in the room. 4:14 am.

.

4:58 am, a VERY handsome couple stormed into the hospital and Simon recognized them immediately. Even if he had never seen the photos, Grace was the spitting image of her mother - the woman didn’t even look old enough to have a daughter her age. They could easily pass for sisters, and with a slight variation of her skin tone and hair texture, they had the exact same face, build, and body language. (Though, Grace's body language most likely mimicked her mom's to pass for normalcy) Her father was… clearly rich, because that woman was definitely out of his league and his style was more of a conservative fashion than the clearly purposely fashionable wife, but that was an earlier thought Simon had… not necessarily one he had on this night. 

The man was slamming his finger onto the counter and speaking very sternly to the poor lady at the desk. Whatever was happening wasn’t her fault, but Simon figured the police had been just as shitty with them as they’d been with him the past couple of hours. The woman turned and noticed him. She came over and his mother took his hand and intertwined their fingers, seemingly to give him strength. They weren’t sure WHAT Grace’s mother was going to say.

“You’re Grace’s boyfriend,” she said. Simon… knew that Grace said her mom was English, but hearing that voice come out of “Grace’s face” was a bit shocking at first. He nodded his head. If Grace hadn’t announced that they had broken up, this wasn’t the time to. Maybe she also hadn’t mentioned that she’d rushed off because he was stalking her. “Do you know what happened?” She wondered.

The police were a lot more accommodating with allowing her to talk to him than they had been with Sunny and Xander, who were also in the waiting room, with officers beside them, and had been presumably questioned when they’d been guided to the detectives earlier. Simon glanced at them and he saw that the police were staring at him, waiting for him to finally say something. If he wasn’t going to answer them, he would maybe answer this woman. He squeezed his mother’s hand and let himself tell her. “Somebody attacked Grace. She was shot,” he pointed to where. “She’s been in surgery. They won’t say more. The man that shot her… He was somebody… that she  knew…  from her past, I think,” he said, tilting his head, hoping that Mrs. Monroe would catch what he meant. She stumbled, ever so slightly, letting him know that she indeed did get it. “I killed him,” Simon said. It was more of a proud declaration than anything else. The woman looked… relieved. Simon didn’t know if he was imagining that for his own ego, or if he was simply too disoriented to note things properly. But soon, the doctor approached Grace’s parents and they rushed down the hallway with him.  She’s alive. She’s okay… Simon felt himself take the first relieved breath that he’d had in hours.

.

5:17 am. Outside of her room, she could hear her parents fussing with someone. The other voice wasn’t very familiar, but she ultimately gathered that it was that badge that had been in earlier. He had a hard voice, which, although he was speaking in a low voice, it cut through the wall and sounded very sinister as he told her parents that she couldn’t receive visitors until they figured out what happened in that alley. An accent of “the Queen’s people,” Grace considered it. She wasn’t that great at telling a lot of those accents apart, and found out that people snobbishly point out that their accents are special. Their accents are different. If they had the Queen listed whenever she looked them up online, she just threw it in a bucket. It was an effort on her part NOT to think about linguistics. In fact, she furrowed her brows that she was thinking about it so naturally just from hearing an Australian accent through a door.  Damn it. 

Her father spoke about the constitution, warned the dick that he  knew the law, and her mother insisted that he was incompetent, subhuman, and corrupt. The door opened and the man returned, leaving her parents outside. 

“Miss Monroe, or Miss St. Catherine, or whoever you wish to be called these days. Your parents have been alerted and they want to see you. Your boyfriend is out there, speaking to my partner. If you want to get your side out, I would suggest that you do so now.”

She frowned.  Her side?  Simon wasn’t telling on her. He wouldn’t. She looked at the note on her hand.  This cop is trying to get under your skin, Grace. 

“People sure do seem to die around you a lot. Hopefully, he'll realize that sooner, rather than later." He adjusted her blanket and smirked, his icy blue eyes seemingly having nothing human behind them as he covered up her still cuffed arm. "But, maybe I'm misunderstanding the facts. Maybe it's  not  what it looks like. Maybe you  weren't trying to attack someone when they shot you in self defense, only to be murdered moments later by some poor fool under your spell."

Now, Grace smirked, but she was in enough pain that it could be mistaken for a wince, if Mace wasn't so receptive. "Yes. You ARE wrong."

"Explain it to me. Simon's certainly explaining it to my partner."

.

Sieve: Just explain to me what happened

Simon: Is Grace okay?

Sieve: Whatever you know, it could only help her.

Simon: (Sighs) I've already told the police and I also told you and your partner. That guy shot her and I shot him. He attacked, I reacted.

Sieve: What led up to it?

Simon: It happened really fast.

Sieve: Start from when you first saw him. We’ve got time. 

Simon: Ummm… he seemed to come out of nowhere to me I don't know. 

 Grace: I spotted him throwing the trash out back there and I recognized him. I thought he might not recognize me, but if he did... I... Didn't want Simon to know. (Lowers her eyes to the note on her palm. Clenches her fist.) He doesn't know about my past. I didn't want him to know that I was... Product... And I certainly never expected to run into the man who had turned me into product…

 Sieve: Did she say who this man was?

Simon: No... She... (Taps into Grace's personality. ‘If I were brainstorming the actions of a character like Grace, how would I outline her response to this line of questioning?’) She seemed paranoid. Secretive. I didn't know him, but I had a feeling that she didn't want me to, so I tried to give her space. I gave them too much of it…

 Grace: I tried to get some distance between Simon and I to get a closer look at the guy. It was dark and I didn't know if my past was playing tricks on my mind. It's been almost 15 years now… I didn't really believe myself to be seeing him again, especially in such a random place as this alley.

Mace: But it was him?

Grace:  (nods head)  It was dark. I was walking up on him and I asked him a question about that day. Are you the nice man with the pinky ring in the white limousine? I asked it out loud before I could stop myself or formulate a more tactful way to handle it.

Mace: And then what?

Grace:  (Looks into his eyes) And then he shot me.

 Simon: I don't KNOW what she said. I don't know what happened. It was dark and they were a little ways away from me. From what I COULD figure, he seemed to be trying to kill her. I simply reacted.

Sieve: By emptying your gun into him?

Simon: That's… that's how I practice at the range. I've been practicing a lot. I'm a pretty good shot. I just... Went into my practice mode. He was running, but I imagined the firing range targets when they move forward.

Sieve: He was running towards you?

Simon:  (Pauses)  No.. the other direction.

Sieve: So, you admit that he was running away when you killed him.

Simon: I… never denied that he was running away… AFTER he tried to kill Grace. (Hands shaking in anger and frustration)

Sieve: But, instead of self defense, as you claimed, this sounds like revenge for shooting your girlfriend.

Simon: If you could only be self-aware enough to realize how absurd that is coming from the police. You all shoot people all the time out of fear. Unarmed people who aren't even being violent. This monster shot at us!

Sieve: At her. After she rushed up to him in the dark, in presumably a confrontational manner.

Simon: Why do you presume that?

Sieve: It sounds like your girlfriend rushed upon this man, if it happened so quickly that you can’t form how exactly it did happen. How far away would you say you were from him?

Simon:  (Flares nostrils)  I didn't measure.

Sieve:  (More pensievely than accusatory)  But, in the dark, with him moving in the opposite direction, you were a very precise shot. It was not well lit, he was an unknown distance away. Your girlfriend was probably on the ground by then. All on short notice, and in a random alley behind this man’s job. You hit him with every bullet in your gun. You didn't miss at all, and still had time to apply pressure to the wound and call 911. 

Simon: I’m a quick thinker and I've been practicing.

 Mace: So, the victim…

Grace: Me?

Mace: The murder  victim.

Grace: The attempted murderer.

Mace: Had ties to someone you knew. Someone we spoke about before. Heath Farmer.

Grace:  (Pulse accelerates. Face becomes firm)  I don't believe that.

Mace:  The night that Farmer died, he had been a part of a b&e, two of the culprits escaped. The homeowner didn't get a good look at them, but noted that they were all dressed alike and wearing masks. Some time later, a man was taken from his home, not to be seen again. His wife, who hadn't been on the scene when Farmer died, described the kidnappers in a similar fashion as Farmer had been dressed that night. Same exact clothing that was removed from your person for surgery.

Grace: (Unbothered) Sounds like they were stylish.

Mace: 148. That's what you told the police whenever you were initially arrested for beating a girl almost to death. 

Grace: A gang member who murdered a small child that police failed to protect.

Mace: Heath Farmer once had a number too, and I'm sure that if I were to go through all of your friends, I would find more numbers. More members of your gang. More murderers…

Grace:  I'm  sure that you’ll find that there is no type of evidence to indicate that  I  have murdered anybody, anywhere. The only thing that you have is the word of someone who described an outfit of some people who maybe tapped into a description that her husband gave her when he spoke about work.

Mace: I never mentioned anything about his work.

Grace: You mentioned that the wife’s description matched Heath's death at his murder scene. Either somebody let a civilian on the premises during an investigation, or the woman's husband was on the scene for work, since she was not, as you were happy to inform me. (Bats her eyes)

Mace:  (Glares) You were able to pin numerous murders on so-called stewards, who wore all black clothes masks to cover their identities, and yet, in several disappearances over the past couple of years, we find the symbol associated with your old gang. The one that you got away with acts of violence by being rich and pretending to be crazy. Several of those same kids who were on the streets were there for a year while you were allowed to sit in a room, dance and draw pictures with crayons. Maybe the ringleader felt bad for abandoning them. Maybe these people who are disappearing are doing so because the princess has decided.

Grace: This is inappropriate. The detective.

Mace: Why would you and Farmer have matching outfits and be near people associated with the old Apex in the middle of the night? More than one occasion, and it be exactly the same as what the witness saw when her husband was taken?

Grace: My date with Simon was after practice last night, and Heath must have stopped by that man’s house on his way to  practice that night.

Mace: Practice?

Grace:  (Deadpan)  We have a dance crew.  (Stare at each other)  You can verify it with the Infinity Train Foundation Center. Sometimes we practice there and most of our performances have been there. For the kids.

Mace: You never said that you had practice on the night of his death.  (Smirks)

Grace: I said that we cancelled some plans to hang out with Simon. Those plans were practice that night. My other friends wanted to size him up and Heath didn't make it to the little meet and greet. Maybe he was as unfortunate as me. Maybe he saw somebody that he just couldn’t stand not to address. Maybe that’s why he was killed, as opposed to wounded or apprehended for questioning. Sure would have made your job easier than this plot of yours to give me details of the investigation. You might think that you’re programming me to know stuff that I’m not supposed to know so that later that knowledge can be used against me, but I promise, I’m not as stupid as you think.

Mace:  (Fumes in frustration as Grace stares at him, emotionless)

Grace: Are you on the take? Is that why you’re so passionately trying to pin cold blooded murder on an internationally recognized children’s book series author?

Mace: Maybe it’s him who’s in your pocket. Unfortunate young man who brings joy to children is a good, strong alibi for a murderous former gang member and child prostitute…

Grace: (Spits in his face) 

“Book me for assault for that if you want to, but you don’t have SHIT else on me,” she hissed. “I can’t wait to tell my lawyer what you just said to an injured SURVIVOR of child trafficking, homelessness and the subsequent street violence brought on by aforementioned abuse. I’m a recovery success story, philanthropist, child welfare advocate, and payer of so many taxes… The way that my dad and the DA might as well be fucking each other, they’re so close, and you take my physically and mentally traumatized body, cuff it to a bed while I’m striuggling for my life, and question and accuse me while I’m under medication... I feel like… You should take a look in the mirror and ask yourself, ``Do you want to fight me?” He wiped his face with her blanket, uncuffed her and left the room.

Her parents were speaking with her lawyer whenever he came out. “Going to take Mr. Laurent to the station for more questioning,” he said.

“What?” Mrs. Laurent wondered, walking up with coffee for Mrs. Monroe that she had gone to fetch while waiting for Simon to finish speaking with the other detective. “Simon already told us all that he did what he did in self defense!” 

“Other things have come to light, namely that the murder victim…”

“The assailant who tried to kill my daughter,” Mrs. Monroe corrected, infuriating him as well as her daughter had.

“WAS affiliated with the organisation that disbanded and became known as the street gang that your daughter was part of…”

Mrs. Laurent gasped. “Street gang? What are you talking about?”

“What he’s talking about is something that he has no legal RIGHT to talk about and now you’ve just slandered my daughter to a woman who only knows her after her terribly haunting childhood of being forced into a life of crime.” Mrs. Laurent’s eyes were already red from crying, and now they were simply confused, as well. “Mrs. Laurent… Our legal team already has representatives here on behalf of Grace. I’m more than happy to extend their services to Simon, as well.”

“I don’t know that we can afford something like that…” the woman said. 

Mrs. Monroe doubted that Simon would have a problem with good legal representation, as she definitely already researched his net worth, but it was true that he didn’t have a team like the one that they did. “Don’t be silly. Our children come first, and it's clear that they are under attack right now. Why else would we be even be entertaining the notion that two beloved pillars of the community are somehow orchestrating a conspiracy theory to…” she gave Mace a look, “What were the claims? Killing a child trafficking gang member?” She finally took her coffee from Mrs. Laurent’s shaking hand, blew on it and took a sip, staring at Detective Mace, for dramatic effect.

It burned her tongue, but she didn’t flinch. 

Sieve came from the room that he had been allowed to use in order to speak with Simon and he and Mace touched base, going over the discussions. Simon hugged his mother and Mrs. Monroe stared at the detectives. Her husband approached with the DA on his cell phone to speak with Mace. They watched as he stammered and tried to explain things, then he handed the phone back and punctuated with conversation (pointed at Simon), with, “We’ll be in touch if further questioning comes about. At this moment, no charges will be filed.”

Simon’s eyes smiled and he politely said, “Thank you so much, for everything that you do to keep citizens safe.” Mace knew he was being sarcastic, though there was nothing to prove it and the Monroes had just made it clear that this entire lot would be a unified effort. In fact, the woman was rubbing Simon’s back and talking kindly to him while his mother offered him her coffee cup. Mace left angrily. Sieve seemed less upset, but he always was. 

The police were going to stay around for a while, and Grace was only allowed 3 visitors at a time. First, she saw her parents and the lawyer. Then, she saw Sunny, Xander, and Jalicia had come in too, by then. Then, her mom brought Mrs. Laurent in and the woman was trying to be very strong about having had it sprung on her this morning about Grace’s past and the entire situation with the police and things. Grace was extremely tired by the time that Simon finally got around to coming in. So tired, that she only saw his face, smiled, held his hand and fell to sleep, with him and the clock watching over her. 8:41 am.

15. I Trust Him With My Life

#AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics #People Watching

[ironspiidey]

Starker Spofity Shuffle

So ive been struggling with severe writers block. After seeing some peeps do the song shuffle mini fic thing on tumblr I thought it might be a good way to curb said writers block. Fingers crossed guys.

Read on A03

Help Pour Out the Rain (Lacey’s Song)// Buddy Jewell (Parent!Peter, Innocent!Morgan )

Peter was just on his way back to the house after his and Morgan’s weekly ice cream date after much of both Pepper and Tony saying that he was her parent as Pep and Tony are and that she needed alone time with her Papa as much as her Mommy and Daddy. When Morgan piped up from the backseat

“Papa!”

“Yes peanut?”

“Will we ever visit Auntie Nat?”

Peter glanced back at her through the rear-view mirror “I wish we could but Nat is in heaven with the angels.”

“Can we go there? Like to visit or would we have to stay forever. Could god use another angel to poor out the rain?” Morgan kept questioning her papa while she kept looking out the window

“Sorry baby we can’t go visit or stay until its our time to do so sweetie.”

“Oh okay.” Morgan shrugs her shoulders, the 6-year-old was silent for a moment before asking about something else. Not noticed how her Papa’s eyes were misty.

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With it// Always Never (Teenage!Starker, Hidden Relationship!)

Peter doesn’t get it, one-minute Tony and he are on the same page than all of a sudden he’s ghosted hard.

Tony tells his buddies that him and Peter have a weird friendship. Which honestly is true. After the disaster that was Quentin Beck, Peter stopped putting his heart on his sleeve. He thought things would be kinda okay with him and Tony until Tony started hiding them like what the fuck is that. Especially since he was with guys openly it wasn’t a coming out thing. Maybe Tony is just scared because of how Peter told him to enjoy the ride and let it play out and not to worry about love.

Only reason Peter even said that was because he was A. Stoned as hell, B. Just getting over his ex and C. Knowing how much of a player Tony Stark was and didn’t want to lose this good vibe of a friendship thing they had. But now? Now Peter knows he’s in love with him and maybe next time they get high he’ll mention it. Tony is always 100% honest while high.

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Hymn For The Missing// Red ( Character Death, Grieving!Tony, Adult!Peter, )

Tony finds himself back on the rooftop of the tower once again still heartbroken 2 years later. He fucking lost Peter. Tony never forgave himself for it, staring at the sky he wonders what happens to those that were dusted. Are they alive but in an alternate universe? Or are they truly dead? Strange doesn’t say much about what could be and frankly Tony doesn’t really want to know. The thought of sweet Peter, his Babyboy truly dead forever or stuck in the galaxy drifting would be too much to bear. It’s bad enough as it is with the knowledge that he couldn’t save him in the first place. Tony takes a deep breath and downs the scotch in his hand. It helps numb helps the pain. But only a little.

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Difficult Love// City and Colour (Minor Cheating mentioned, Drug use Mentioned Tony fucked up a lot but Peter loves him)

Tony knows its not been easy for Peter to stick by him. All these years from his college days and the fights, the drugs, the ‘cheating’. Peter refuses to call what Tony did cheating, says they were on a break so he cant call it cheating, But Tony well he knows it was a dick move because they were only on a break because Peter felt Tony needed to deal with some of his issues on his own without having to worry about Peter too.

All that happened during that break was Tony getting high out of his tree on things much harsher than weed, sleeping with randos and 2 overdoses. One that nearly killed him.

At the same time, he knows he needed to go through all that to be the Tony Stark he is today. Maybe without the overdoses but he’s still breathing and that’s what counts, or that’s at least what Peter keeps drilling into his thick brain.

God Tony is so grateful Peter stuck by him through his difficult love all these years.

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Worst in Me// Julia Michaels (Jealous!Peter, they have issues, but Tony knows they can work through it)

Peter sighs out on the balcony of their home. THEIR home. Peter takes a deep breath. Tonight’s fight was bad real bad. Peter let his emotions get in the way, the bad ones. The ones where he can’t help but be jealous of the woman that try to hang of Tony, his husband. They worked through so much shit. From abusive exs and past traumas together to have something so stupid get in the way. Peter shakes his head. Why does the worst in him have to come out and ruin things? Things used to be so great with him and Tony. But of course, Tony pushes and Peter pushes back and then they end up like this. Peter swallows and heads back inside, headed for the lab where he knows his better half is bound to be.

Peter tries the door, but it won’t him which means Tony is very mad and Peter definitely crossed the invisible line of don’t go here.

“Friday? Can you open this door?”

“Sorry Peter, Boss said no visitors, especially Spiderhusband.”

Peter lets out a sad chuckle at the little nickname.  “Can you patch my voice through to the lab.”

“Of course.”

“Tony..”

“Peter please go away.”

“Just hear me out, I promise if you don’t want to hear from me. Ill go stay with May or Bucky or something. Just please” Peter swallows, his voice starting to break. “Just let me say my piece first.”

Tony doesn’t look up from his hologram, just motions with his hand for him to continue.

“Its like I’ve got this chain reaction to act like a total dick. That the worst in me just must make an appearance when things are just getting good. I bring out all your monsters and I’m so sorry Tony. I’m not perfect but I cant lose you.. We used to be so happy and I know we could fix these kinks and the bad parts may not want to fix this, us. But the best in me wants to love you until the end of every forever.”

By the end of Peter’s spiel, both of them are crying. Tony walks over to the door and unlocks it. Opening his arms “C’mere Petey Pie. We are never above fixing. I get bitter.” Tony wraps his arms tightly around his husband as he ran into his arms “But I didn’t exactly stop people from mauling over me and I’ll do my very best to not hurt you again baby, We can do this.”

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Until the Day I Die// Story Of The Year (Hurt!Tony, Peter professes his love )

“God Tony this is so scary.” Peter swallows looking at his boyfriend and mentor laying in this hospital bed . “I need you to be okay. I know we haven’t been together long and this is definitely NOT the way to profess my love to you but the Doctors say your brain activity is fine and your just not waking up. So here goes.”

Peter glances at the door to make sure nobody was within listening distance. “Tony I feel like I loved you my whole life and not in the hero obsession everyone thinks. You’ve become my best friend, rock and partner all in one and while we only started becoming a thing. I love you with all of me until the day I die. If you don’t wake up and pull through this, if you.” Peter swallows “If you die, you’ll be taking me with you because without you Im nothing. Please Baby come back to me.”

#starker #starker ficlets #my fics #ficlets #Hurt!tony #Jealous!Peter #Character death #greiving!Tony #Adult!Peter #Teenage Starker #parent peter

[cozyteez]

Hii, do u have any tips for writing fics?? I’m so used to writing research reports, lab reports, and formal essays that creative writing has become something I really struggle with. I guess it’s having the freedom to write anything and not knowing how to make sure it’s not corny. I tried outlining a fic one time but it was so frustrating LOLOLOL. Anyways, I love your ateez fics. They are so cute and creative!!

hi !!!! im like rlly touched u asked me and i feel u actually that's why i started this blog; im a biomedical engineering major so as u can imagine i dont get to take much creativity with what i write because writing papers and reports and proposals are so formulaic and u gotta stick to the facts so that being said i actually tested out of all my college writing classes so all my writing knowledge is from ap english in hs lmao so take it w many grians of salt

the #1 thing i do when im feeling sort of unmotivated about a story or maybe like like dragging myself thru mud to write it is to just write the "fun" part first. to me the fun part is usually the climax or maybe the like the "wouldn't it be cute if..." moment that came to mind that inspired me to write a blurb in the first place! then usually once i sort of get the ball rolling on that my brain will help me out and keep the momentum going by thinking of maybe "oohh okay maybe this can happen next" or "oohh and what if this led up to it" or !! just stop there !! something ive learned from my mx writing blog which is like a year older than this one was that you don't owe anybody context especially for a blurb so maybe it really is just 3 sentences of a cute moment u thought of like its whatever ur the one writing it

now for longer fics im going to be honest jongho's first love is my first and only completed attempt at a multi stage coherent story. and that was fueled purely based on the fact that when i look at jongho he just gives off sort a really excited sort of innocence that i wanted to further explore and personify through the idea of him experiencing love for the first time but even then i really struggled w the last part because that's where my personal experience stopped and i had basically nothing to go off of because ive never been in love so i did have to kinda wait for ideas to come to me. for prince yunho i have posted 4 chapters but have all the way through chapter 15 drafted. and by drafted i mean it's like 3 sentences of the overall idea. again, the fic was inspired by the duality between yunho's on stage vs. off stage persona where if somebody was to watch an ateez performance for the first time they may find him very serious and maybe even intimidating but atiny would know that his off stage persona (the one he choses to create for us anyways) is very silly and happy-go-lucky and approachable, which is why prince yunho is seen as narameth's strong and stoic pride and joy but in reality he's sort of clumsy but means well. so i let that and his relationship w xenia who is an original character (OC) sort inspire stories or interactions that i force into a plot line. so for example i believe when i first started thinking abt a prince au for yunho i thought "wouldn't it be funny if the first scene started out painting him as this strong and serious man and then cut to him choking on food or something" and that sort of inspired the idea of him being nervous abt the speech and then xenia came out of that because he needed a complementary character imo since i knew he was gonna be kind of one dimensional and then his backstory with xenia inspired other ideas and then one day i was sad and wanted a hug so that inspired a piece of the plot line and so on. so basically: let an idea or even an aspect of somebody come to you and just write it down, let it inspire other ideas. and don't be afriad to completely start over. i wrote a whole chapter for prince yunho and deleted the whole thing because i hated where it was going and started back from scratch. sometimes you have to revisit things abt your characters and their relationships with others to get a new idea. there's a story in every person and every relationship you just have to find the clues

here's an example of what i mean by "write the good part first". this is typically what the very first draft of a blurb will look like for me

((( blah blah blah basically its raining and y/n is sad bc wooyoung broke her heart two weeks ago idk maybe go into it maybe not)))

y/n is all sad and feeling sorry for themselves on the couch theyre past crying but still feel pretty shitty plus it's storming and cold outside. great

there's a knock on their door ofc they have the cliche "who could that be moment" even tho they lowkey know. we literally all know

so yeah wooyoung's there soaked in rain eyes puffy y/n thinks he's been crying

-this would be the "fun part". i'll fix all that garbage up top later or maybe even change it completely idk yet-

"y/n? i - uh. hi"

he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck while you crossed your arms over your chest, fighting the urge to close the door and walk away for good

"hi? really wooyoung? is that the best you can do?"

(((wooyoung does smth idk)))

"well i just -"

"you just what? showed up here in the rain after you broke my heart and didn't even bother to tell me why? this isn't some romance movie, asshole. you can't just come here late at night and expect to find me all sad and willing to take you back because i'm not. so say what you're gonna say so i can get back to my life"

your face was red hot and you trying very hard, probably too hard, to fight back tears. ((( idk talk some more abt y/n's emotions then what wooyoung is doing)))

"look, i made a mistake i-"

"oh my god! why did i know you were gonna do this. i just knew as soon as i saw you-"

"will you let me get a fucking word in!?"

well that was new. in the entire time you'd known him he had never raised his voice at you like that, your shock causing you to immediately close your mouth and fold your arms back into yourself (((make y/n seem more scared))) noticing your reaction, he lowered his voice back down and instictively reached for you, heartbroken at the way you jerked away from his touch

"please y/n, i'm sorry. i didn't mean to raise my voice it's just that i need to tell you that i regret what i did i regret breaking up with you so fucking much and you don't have to take me back i just need you to know how much you meant, no, mean to me. i still love you, a lot. there's not a day, an hour, a minute, or a single second that goes by that i'm not thinking of you"

"then why?"

your voice was small and wavering, your tears now dangerously close to spilling down your cheeks

"why what?"

"why did you break up with me like that, just all of a sudden"

he pushed his hands into his pockets and looked away

"because that morning i woke up before you and when i looked at you asleep next to me, i saw myself spending the rest of my life with you and it scared the shit out of me"

"why did it scare you?"

"because i just figured you didn't feel the same. i was selfish and wanted to save myself heartbreak down the line and so i told you i didn't wanna be with you anymore, but that was a mistake because it turns out i can't function with out you, i can't breathe without you i can't live without you, y/n. i shouldn't have let you go"

tears were now freely flowing down your face (((okay brain no work anymore y/n kisses him duh and then ofc they make up wooyoung prob says smth cheesy and y/n is like ur lucky i love you or smth ahaha the end)))

tl;dr -> don't be afraid to get messy. creative writing is not nearly as structured as academic/scientific writing. write whatever u want first it can even be the middle of a huge fight scene or some dialogue u think is funny. if ur stuck read what you have or maybe just take a break and let an idea come to you. a story doesnt have to come together til the very end so it can be as messy and out of order as u want until u wanna post it. also i would always use the third person omniscient point of view for a longer story like a chaptered fic as a default and only change if it would impact the plot in a negative way. this is where the narrator knows what every character is thinking/feeling and im p sure a teacher in middle school told me it was the easiest to write and follow

#sorry i got carried away #also rmbr how i was like my brain cant stop imagining dramatic and disgusting love confessions in the rain? i meant like that #it's so chessy ik 😔 bleh #amanda talks

[ficklefics]

Friends Like These: Chapter Sixteen - Escape

A meeting in the city might be Harleen's salvation - or her downfall.

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Chapter Warnings: Guns, blood, dislocation, surgery

We’re in the city, at a warehouse that appears long abandoned. Jerome leads me inside, flanked by half of his followers, armed to the teeth with guns, machetes, and countless other weapons. The rest stay behind, guarding the perimeter. The sound of the door slamming shut echoes around the cavernous room as we weave through the towering shelves and crates. Jerome’s grip is tight on my arm, unrelenting, but I don’t struggle. It would be futile. We turn a corner and enter a wide-open space – there is already a group of people waiting for us. Men, more than Jerome has, and at their front – Oswald Cobblepot. The Penguin. He’s as infamous as Jerome, if not more, but he is a far different breed of criminal. Organised crime, a carefully curated reputation, planning and scheming – the exact opposite of Jerome’s erratic acts of chaos. I suddenly become hyperaware of the complete state I’m in: hair tangled and caked in gore, bruised from head to toe, and a bloody stain on my shirt from the still-sticky wound. I shift on my feet as we come to a stop, embarrassed. 

“So it’s true? This is where your attention’s been?” If the word ‘disdain’ was a person, it would be Penguin – he radiates it with every movement, every glance, every sneer. I lift my conjoined hands, waving with one. “Hi.” Attention caught, he looks over at me, taking in my dishevelled appearance. His nose crinkles in disgust as he addresses Jerome.   “Clearly you are a less than generous host, Mr Valeska.” “Well, this isn’t your typical hostage situation, Mr Penguin.” He mocks, clearly seeking to antagonise him – and succeeding. His arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling me close into his body, and I cringe. “That’s an understatement.” I mutter, trying to keep as much distance between our bodies as I can – but all I do is make him hold on tighter.   “I’m sure you’re aware of the large sum being offered for Miss Quinzel’s safe return?” Penguin questions, hobbling forward slightly as he speaks. I furrow my brows slightly, but then I realise the desperation my parents must be feeling. They’re not above using their money to protect our family.   “Yeah, yeah. She’s got some rich parents, don’t cha?” He shakes me side to side by my shoulders and I push away from him, sick of the feeling of his arm against me. Strangely, he relents, letting me stand slightly to the side. “But this isn’t about money. This is personal.” I glare at him, seething silently at the idea – the fact – of there being anything personal between us.   “I see. Well, if you won’t take advantage of it,” Oswald raises a hand, cueing his men to raise their weapons, “Then I will.” My eyes widen, and all I can process is Jerome pushing me to the side as gunshots fill the air. With my hands bound and my mind scattered, I can’t catch myself as I fall. Pain blasts through my skull as my forehead knocks against a crate. Blood fills my vision, pouring over my eyebrow and into my eye, and I quickly try to wipe it away. My back is against the floor, a small pile of boxes defending my body from Penguin’s men. The fire fight seems to mostly be between the two criminals back-up, as Penguin has retreated to fire from a distance and Jerome has ducked behind the shelves we entered past. I roll onto my front, pushing myself clumsily onto my knees. Directly opposite me is a door. A door. For a moment I think I might be hallucinating. There is no way I am this lucky. But it’s there. Right there. A way out. An escape. I just need to be brave enough to take it. I scramble to my feet, sprinting towards it. I hear a yell of “Hey!” from behind me, a gunshot that seems to echo louder than the rest. A heavy shove in my shoulder, pushing me to the ground. I go numb, blocking out everything except for the door in front of me. As I clamber back to my feet I can hear Jerome screaming from behind me, the sound muffled and dull. When I reach the door, after what feels like a hours of running, I turn back, though I’m not sure what for. I see Jerome staring at me, oblivious to the violence filling the room. There’s a bloody stain in his shirt sleeve. He isn’t coming after me. Just watching, an unexplainable mix of emotions spread across his scarred face. A pang of guilt shoots through me, but I can’t stop. I slam the door open, escaping through it into the cool evening air of Gotham city. And I run. I try to head to the centre of the city, sprinting through alleyways and down streets. My head is spinning, probably from blood loss. I trip over the uneven ground, landing heavily on my wrists. I scream as my right hand bends backwards awkwardly. I struggle back up, setting off at a slower pace now that I’m far enough away from the warehouse. I’m not sure where in Gotham I am, but I know that I can’t stop moving. Nowhere is safe for an unconscious girl on the streets. After so long in captivity, being outside on my own is a strange feeling. As I stumble down an alley, exhaustion suddenly takes over. I lean against the wall, trying to catch my breath so I can keep going, but I end up sliding down to sit on the dirty ground. Just a minute. Then I’ll keep going. Just a minute…

*

A black haze clouds my brain, weighing me down in sleep. I’m lying down, on something soft, my back propped up at an angle. There’s a stinging above my eyebrow, which draws me awake to bright light and a figure leaning over me. I flinch away, lashing out at whoever it is. She quickly backs off, avoiding my lethargic attempt at self-defence.   “Good, you’re awake.” She turns her back to me, clearly unafraid, and opens up a cupboard, revealing it to be practically bare. A bottle pulled out and placed on the counter, and she turns back to face me. She’s pretty, very pretty, with long dark hair hanging over her shoulders. Something in me recognises her, but I’m not sure where I could know her from.   “Where am I?” My voice is raspy, sore, and she offers me a glass of water which I gladly accept. As I reach out I notice the IV sticking out of my arm, leading to a bag of blood hooked on a stand next to me. The woman removes the tape holding it in, and places a cotton ball over the entry point before she removes it from my arm. I take the cotton ball from her and hold it down, making sure to keep the pressure on the small scratch.   “You’re in the Narrows. My name is Lee Thompkins, I’m a doctor.” That’s where I know her from. “You were at the hospital gala… You used to date Jim Gordon.” She sighs at his name, taking the now empty glass from me and placing it on the counter.   “Yeah, that’s me. Do you remember what happened to you?”   “How much do you want to know?” I chuckle. “I was kidnapped, tortured, and when Jerome took me to a meeting with Penguin I managed to escape.” I look down at my hands, finding my right wrist strapped into a brace. I guess the fall did a decent amount of damage. “How long since…?” “Three weeks, almost.” Lee continues examining the cut in my forehead. “Seems like you’ve been through some real shit.”   “You could say that,” I run a hand through my hair, grimacing at the feeling of blood and sick dried into it.   “I’m going to need to look at that bullet wound in your shoulder, check out the damage.” Wait, what? “Bullet wound? I got shot?” That must have been the shove I felt. It makes sense now.   “Yeah,” Lee begins to pull out a tray of medical equipment, setting it up beside the bed. “Lots of people don’t notice when they’re shot, it’s not surprising that you didn’t.” I’m finally aware of the aching in my shoulder, like a million tiny pinpricks emanating from one spot. “I’m sorry to tell you that we don’t have much anaesthetic down here, and we already gave you blood transfusion, so-“ “It’s fine, I’ll live.” I pull off my blood soaked top as she adjusts the bed so that it lays flat. I hiss at the sudden spikes of pain in my shoulder and stomach, but ignore them to lie down flat on my front. “What happened to your bra? Did Jerome-?” The broken wire. With everything that had happened I’d forgotten about my grand escape plan. It seems so idiotic now.   “No, that was all me. I was planning on picking the lock on my handcuffs, and then the door.”   “Right.” Lee steps away for a moment, pulling something out of a drawer. “Here.” She hands me a belt, folded in half, and I put it between my teeth, steadying myself for the inevitable pain. It seems that all I do now is wait for the pain to start, and to end.  

*

“I’m done.” Thank fuck. Finally. I let Lee help me up, pulling the belt out of my mouth. The dull ache now sitting in my shoulder is nothing compared to the pain of removing the bullet, of cleaning it and stitching it back up. At least it’s over. “There shouldn’t be any significant permanent damage, other than scarring. You’re a lucky girl, Harleen.”   “Yeah, I feel so lucky right now,” I grumble. In the grand scheme of things she’s right, but that doesn’t change how much shit I’ve had to deal with. Lee just smiles sympathetically as she takes out a new set of equipment. She returns to the cut on my forehead, which now feels like a scratch compared to everything else. I barely feel it as she cleans and stitches my forehead together. She then moves to the bloody messy on my stomach. As she wipes away the blood that’s pooled and dried, she realises what it is. “Oh, shit.”   “Yeah.” She looks up at me, horror in her eyes.   “Jerome did this?” She tries to portray an air of calm as she starts to disinfect it, but there is a slight tremor in her voice.   “After my second escape attempt. He was going to break my legs, but he decided this would be more… fitting.” The apathy in my voice scares me, how matter of fact I am as I talk about the torture inflicted on me during my captivity.   “At least he didn’t try to stitch it. I don’t want to imagine what kind of disaster that would’ve been.” I can’t stop myself from laughing at the unintentional agreement with Jerome’s intentions. Lee looks up at me, almost concerned, and I shake my head.   “Yeah. Definitely not good.” Ten minutes and a neat row of stitches, she’s now cleaning the mostly-healed cut in my hand. The pain doesn’t register as I watch her work, methodical and precise. We’re both so focussed on the task at hand that neither of us notice when the door to the makeshift doctor’s office is opened, and someone begins to walk down the stairs. It’s only the sound of the unfamiliar voice that makes me turn my head.   “We’ve had a good night, Lee. Grundy just keeps bringing in more money.” A man with dark hair wearing a green suit comes in, cash in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. The smile on his face immediately drops when he sees me sitting there. I lift my free hand and wave, trying to ignore the fact that I’m sitting there with just a bra on my top half. “Lee, you do realise who this is?” “Yes, that’s why I’m treating her.” She continues to work, seemingly uncaring at the man’s entrance. “Jerome Valeska is looking for her. Word is he’s furious. You really want to bring him here, to the clinic?” He drops the money and bag on a table, rounding the bed to stand next to Lee. It’s as if I’m not even here.   “Well, he’s not going to know she’s here, so that won’t be an issue. Will it, Ed?” She drops the cotton wool she was using into a tray, turning to face him. He huffs, glancing at me with disregard. “No, I guess not.” He turns away, going to pour himself a cup of coffee from the pot at the other end of the room. Lee turns back, eyes running over my body.   “Anything else I need to look at?”   “I don’t think so. Just the insane number of bruises. I should probably get going. Head to the GCPD.” Lee smiles and nods, helping me to stand up.   “I’ll go grab your jacket and shoes. I’d offer you new clothes, but we don’t really have any to spare.”   “Don’t worry about it.” I reassure her. I can last a bit longer in what I’m wearing. “And I’ll make sure you get paid for your help. You do good work here.” We can definitely afford to compensate her. She didn’t need to do this.   “Thank you. I’ll be back in a moment.” She disappears up the stairs, leaving me alone with Ed and his coffee. I start to pull my top back on, watching him from the corner of my eye.   “Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” I joke, as he steadfastly ignores me. “Jerome won’t come calling. He’ll probably go back to trying to kill Bruce soon enough anyway.” He just stares at me, and I give him a sarcastic smile as I hear Lee coming back down the stairs. “Nice talking to you.” She hands me my shoes, which I promptly pull on, before handing me my jacket.   “Sorry, I didn’t want to risk trying to fix it.” The expensive leather has been torn apart at the back, ripped to shreds.   “It’s okay. It’s just a jacket.” “A jacket that costs more than anyone here makes in a year. In a lifetime maybe.” There’s a bite to her tone, and despite the exaggeration I can’t say I blame her or disagree. My life is so superficial. And I don’t appreciate it nearly enough. I pull it on, ignoring the breeze behind my shoulder, and zip it up. I turn to face Lee and Ed, reinvigorated and ready to get going. “So, how do I get to the GCPD from here?”  

*

On my walk to the GCPD I gain more than a few strange looks. But when I walk in and approach the desk sergeant, I am not even spared a glance, even when I knock against the solid wood of the desk. “How can I help you?” He’s disinterested, focussed on the newspaper crossword in front of him. “I’d like to speak to the detective looking for Harleen Quinzel.” “And I’d like a decent cup of coffee. If you have information, fill out this form and hand it back. Thank you.” He takes a piece of paper and drops it in front of me without looking. I pick it up, barely glancing over it before I drop it back on top of his crossword and lean forward. “You know, your boss is gonna be really pissed off if you don’t help me right now.” I know I should be polite, patient, cooperative, but I do not have the time or the energy.   “Look, sweetheart -” Finally, he looks up, and a flash of shock and recognition appears across his face. He drops his pencil. “Shit. Oh, shit! Gordon!” He shouts past me, and I follow his gaze to see a man who I immediately recognise: Jim Gordon. A face that’s always in the news for some heroic or another. Upon hearing his name Gordon looks in our direction, his mouth forming a silent “Oh” at the sight of me. He drops the files in his hand, running down the short flight of stairs with another man following close behind. “Harleen. You…? How…?” He seems shocked. Good. “I’ll tell you everything. But first, I need a change of clothes. And a hairbrush.”   “Right.” He looks over his shoulder at the man standing behind him, who is staring at me agape. “Harvey, call her parents.” He turns back to me and puts a hand on my shoulder, guiding me past the holding cells into a corridor. “We’ll get you some clothes, Miss Quinzel. And a hairbrush.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

#jerome valeska #jerome valeska fanfic #jerome valeska fanfiction #jerome valeska/harleen quinzel #jerome valeska x harleen quinzel #Gotham #gotham fanfic #gotham imagine #gotham fanfiction #Harley Quinn #Harleen Quinzel

[artificialqueens]

Got To Have You All the Time (katlaska) - kamylove

Katya’s hurt. Alaska’s far away. Anxiety, adorableness, and soul-searching ensue.

AN - Somebody asked for sick katlaska. This is not quite that. But it’s close! 

Takes place in the same fictional universe as my story They Don’t Love You Like I Love You, a few years later. The title is from a song by Faye Richmonde. There’s some icky medical stuff, but I don’t think it would qualify as graphic.

Alaska’s backstage, at an early show not far from her house, when she gets a call from an unexpected number.

“Trixie?” she says. “Or did my boyfriend lose his phone?”

“No, it’s really me,” Trixie says. “I mean, he doesn’t have his phone, but he didn’t lose it, we–never mind. How are you?”

“You sound tense,” Alaska says. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. And so is Katya, I swear. She’s damaged. But she’s fine!”

Alaska’s brain fills up with images of Katya ODing in a filthy alley and drowning in vomit, because that’s always the first thing that pops into her head. She knows it’s not true, but her lizard brain is convinced.

She’d bet that Trixie has the same problem. 

“What happened?” she asks, forcing her voice to be steady.

“She’ll be fine! But she kind of walked off the stage. Because we both know she’s an idiot.”

Alaska can’t help it. She barks out a laugh and says, “Oh, no, poor thing!” It’s very Katya to get too wrapped up in whatever she’s doing to notice the edge of a cliff.

“I know, right?” Trixie says. “She was laughing at herself in the ambulance. But she broke some bones.”

“Oh, God, which ones?” Alaska asks, hoping they’re not bones that will keep her from working, or worse, force her to sit still and do nothing while they heal.

“Nothing she needs for sex.”

Alaska shakes her head at how differently she and Trixie thought the same thought. 

“You might have to do a little extra work for a while, but-”

“I think we’ll be okay,” Alaska interrupts.

“Right. Sorry.”

Across the dressing room, an old friend of Alaska’s, a WeHo queen who should have been on Drag Race years ago, laughs loudly. Another slips out the door, letting in the sound of a Shea Coulee song.

“Are you at a show?” Trixie asks.

“I’m at ——-. It’s not a big deal. What did she break?”

Trixie hesitates, probably expecting Alaska to throw a fit. God knows Katya would if it was Alaska who was hurt, though with Katya at least 40% would be for comedic effect. Katya’s actually very calm in a crisis. Alaska’s not.

“Her arm, definitely,” Trixie says. “Probably her knee, and maybe a finger or two.”

Alaska gasps. “That’s awful.”

“Don’t panic!” Trixie says. “I’m at the hospital with her, and they already took care of the arm, and now they’re x-raying everything else. She wanted me to call you right away, but I didn’t want to leave her until she had a distraction, sorry. You know how she is.”

Alaska feels a twinge of irrational anger–it’s been at least four hours. But she knows it’s irrational. “No, it’s fine,” she says. “It’s not like I can do anything to help from here.”

“You’re not freaking out?” Trixie asks tentatively.

“No, you gave it a great intro, thank you.”

“No sympathy pains?”

“Not yet,” Alaska says. “But there’s still time.”

Trixie chuckles. “I’ll have her call you as soon as she can, okay? There’s no signal on the first floor.”

“Give her a kiss for me? With tongue?” Alaska asks, because that’s what Katya always tells each of them, whenever they’re going to cross paths without her.

“Consider it done,” Trixie says.

“Alaska, five minutes,” the club manager calls from the door as he sticks his head into the dressing room.

She’s very glad she has work to do. 

<><><>

Trixie goes back inside and waits impatiently. There’s no signal here, either, and she really needs to upload more books, or games, or something.

She’d lied a little bit to Alaska, and she tries not to feel bad about it. At least one out of the three of them needs to stay calm, and Alaska wins out simply by being a few thousand miles away.

She does feel bad about leaving the show, though. She never cancels shows. 

Also it will fuel rumors about her and Katya, which will be a pain in her ass, but will actually be better for Katya and Alaska, Queens of the Big Secret. 

There are pluses and minuses to everything.

She yawns. The adrenaline from the stage had been pumped up even more by seeing Katya fall off it and worrying about Alaska’s reaction, and now it’s wearing off. She wonders if there’s a cafeteria that sells coffee in the middle of the night.

Before she can investigate, a tech wheels Katya and her IV cart out through the metal doors. She’s groggy and miserable, but when she sees Trixie, she calls up a smile and tries to wipe the pain off her face. So Trixie calls up a smile, too.

“How’d it go?” Trixie asks as she stands up to join them.

“It hurt, but I made a new friend! This is Steve!”

Trixie holds out her hand to shake. “Hi, Steve!”

He grins and says hello.

“Did you call her?” Katya asks. “Did you? Did you?”

“She says I should give you a kiss with tongue.”

“Oooh!“ 

“Not happening,” Trixie says.

“Some support system you are,” Katya says. “Is she okay?”

“Of course she’s okay. You’re the one in the fucking hospital.”

Katya pouts. Trixie can’t tell if it’s fake. “She’s not worried about me?”

“Of course she’s worried about you. But she’s fine. She’s at-”

“I know where she is,” Katya cuts her off.

Right. Trixie knows better than to drop any potentially identifying information. Or she usually knows better. “Sorry,” she says. “Does your shared calendar list when you’re going to take a shit?”

“Of course it does,” Katya says. “We’re not animals.”

The orderly–Steve–snorts and turns it into a cough. “Sorry,” he says.

“Steve?” Katya asks. “Are we making you uncomfortable, Steve?”

This kid has no idea what he’s gotten himself into, Trixie thinks.

“I’m gay, honey. I know who you are.”

Or, he knows exactly what he’s getting himself into, and how to use it to distract his patient. 

“Wow, I did not clock you at all,” Trixie says, looking him up and down.

“It’s the scrubs. You can’t be fabulous in this shit.” He gives them a triple snap.

“And you didn’t even let on that you knew me?” Katya says. “I love you, Steve.”

“So you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? They-friend?” Steve asks Katya.

“I do,” Katya says coyly, biting her lip. Trixie rolls her eyes. 

“And it’s not this one?” He jerks a thumb at Trixie and winks, making sure Trixie knows they’re on the same side.

“Hell no,” Trixie says. “And if this ends up on Reddit, I will come find you, Steve.”

“Steve would never do that to us,” Katya says. “Would you, Steve?”

“I go there for spoilers, not drama.”

Katya’s mouth opens in a delighted O. “Do you know who makes it to the finale this season?”

“Do you?” Steve asks.

“Oh, no,” Katya says. “I don’t know a single spoiler ever.” She crosses her heart and holds up her free hand. “I swear to god.”

It’s not true, of course. Katya always knows more than she wants to, because Alaska knows more than she wants to, from getting called back to appear in every damn season lately. 

“I don’t believe you,” Steve says. “Don’t you all talk?”

“I only talk to the non-snaky ones,” Katya says.

“Oh, my God,” Trixie says with a startled laugh. Katya’s replaced all of her old addictions with whatever high she gets from skirting the edge of outing herself, and it always catches Trixie by surprise.

“Steve?” Katya says. “My boy-slash-girl-slash-they friend is really pretty.” Even through the pain she’s glowing, like she always does when she talks about Alaska.

“You want to tell me who it is?” Steve asks.

“Never,” Katya says. “Sorry, Steve.”

They’re back in the emergency room now, and Steve wheels Katya into a curtained-off cubicle. A nurse follows them in and helps him get Katya onto the bed.

“Gotta leave you ladies here,” Steve says.

Katya waves goodbye and says, “Thanks, Steve! It was nice to meet you!”

“Thank you,” Trixie says.

“He was nice,” Katya says. “Wasn’t he nice?” she asks the nurse. 

“Very nice,” the nurse says. Her name tag says Mariela, and she looks like she’s at the end of an 18-hour shift but would otherwise be a friendly person. “How’s your pain level?”

“Excruciating,” Katya says brightly.

“You sure you don’t want codeine?”

“Unfortunately, yes, I’m sure,” Katya says. 

“We’ll get you another nerve block, then,” Nurse Mariela says. “Back in a few.” And she walks away crisply.

“Steve was a sweetie,” Katya says. “Boyfriend material?”

“He had a ring on. Are you sure they didn’t give you the good stuff?”

“What? I don’t check anymore. I am a spoken-for woman.”

“You never checked,” Trixie says.

“I did! Most of the time.” Katya holds out her good hand in a grabby motion. “Give me your phone.”

Trixie hands it over. There’s no use objecting.

Katya looks at it, unlocks it. (Trixie’s password is another thing Katya somehow always knows.) She checks the settings, shakes it, holds it up in every direction. “No signal,” she says finally. “Fucking hospital.”

“Katya, she’s fine.”

“I know. I just want to talk to her. I like her.”

Trixie knows they always talk after shows. And before, and often during. Before going to bed, after waking up, during breakfast … It’s cute and Trixie’s over the moon for them, but it does sometimes make her own love life feel like child’s play. A preschool romance, how cute, let’s push each other off the swingset.

She’s not jealous of Alaska. She’s jealous of both of them for this ethereal freaking connection they have, and she can’t even be mad about it. She likes them too much.

“God forbid you should go an hour without making googly eyes at each other,” Trixie says.

“I could make googly eyes at you instead.”

“Please don’t. Please don’t.”

Katya laughs maniacally, wheezes, and slaps her thigh. Trixie knows it’s a mistake as it’s happening, but there’s no time to stop her.

“Ow! Fuck!” Katya says. “That fucking hurt! OW! Oh, my God!”

“I’m sorry,” Trixie says, wincing.

After a few breaths to calm herself down, Katya says, “You should be." 

"I’d really like to hear you explain how any of this is my fault.”

“Give me a minute, I’ll come up with something.”

Mariela returns with a tray of needles and vials. Katya distracts herself by playing with Trixie’s phone in her free hand. She hates shots. She never even did intravenous meth, Trixie’s been reliably informed more than once.

“Hey, you have a voicemail!” Katya says. “Oh, that’s better already, thank you,” she tells the nurse.

“I do?” Trixie says. She takes the phone back as Mariela finishes up and leaves. “But it didn’t ring." 

It won’t transcribe or play, either. She can just see that it’s from Alaska.

"Is it her?” Katya asks excitedly.

“Yes, but-”

A young doctor interrupts by walking through the curtain, introducing herself, and asking Katya to confirm her name and birthdate.

Katya rattles it off, and turns immediately to Trixie. “Go call her?”

“I don’t have anything to tell her yet,” Trixie says.

“Caaalllll heeerrrrrrrr,” Katya says.

“You may need to leave for privacy reasons,” the doctor says.

“No, you can tell him anything,” Katya says quickly. 

“Significant other?" 

"Chosen family,” Katya says, and points at the phone. “That’s my extremely significant other. Caalllll herrrrrr!”

“Okay, I’m going!” Trixie says. 

As she leaves, she hears the doctor saying, “Let me just pull this over so we can take a look at your films.”

She goes outside to call, walking away from the entrance to escape the smokers, and she doesn’t bother listening to voicemail first.

Alaska answers before the first ring ends. “Trixie?”

“I told you not to panic,” Trixie says.

“I’m not!” Alaska says, but her chuckle is rueful. “I was just walking home and I thought it was worth a try.”

“Believe me, she’s dying to talk to you, too.”

“Aww,” Alaska says, just the way Katya says it.

“There’s a doctor with her now. She was about to give her the x-ray results.”

“Oh! Go back in, go back in!”

Trixie has to laugh. “That sounded exactly like her. I’ll let you know what they say, okay?" 

They say goodbye, and Trixie hurries back inside.

<><><>

Alaska’s not panicking. She’s not. But she is worried, and not used to being cut off from Katya; their relationship is founded constant, instantaneous, and frequently sarcastic contact, and has been since before they even knew they were a couple.

It’s not the codependent, drug-fueled separation anxiety she had with Sharon, no matter what Trixie might joke about. It’s more that she wants to tell Katya everything, and having to keep it all in is making both her brain and her fingers itch. 

And lurking at the edge of her consciousness are things they should have discussed by now–in all the thousands of words they exchange every day–but haven’t.

She only has one number to perform, and when she gets home, she has nothing to distract herself with but packing. Which is a lot less fun without Katya’s commentary, in person or on facetime or even in texts.

She makes herself a sandwich and only eats a quarter of it, then stands in the middle of her drag room, lost and staring at the racks. Maybe she can just grab half a dozen dresses and stuff them in her luggage and hope for the best.

She pulls out her phone, knowing it’s pointless.

She puts it away, then takes it out again. Then she goes to the bedroom and leaves the phone there, but goes back and gets it a few minutes later.

She hates the thought of Katya in pain. It’s bad enough when Alaska’s with her. (Katya had twisted her ankle in a fucking Target a few months ago and fully enjoyed Alaska’s coddling.) It’s torture to hear about it through an intermediary, even if the intermediary is Katya’s best friend.

Damn. She shouldn’t have come home. She should have stayed to cheer on the others, or dragged someone back here to talk it out. She’s still in half drag, for fuck’s sake.

She can’t call her mom, or Katya’s mom. It’s too late. All her local friends will be either drunk, in bed, or on stage. She tries her brother, who would make her laugh if nothing else, but his phone is off, and she doesn’t leave a voicemail.

"Dammit, Katya,” she says to the room. “You could have at least waited until we were on the same damn stage.”

That’s a dumb thought to think. Sighing, she lays out her suitcases, and after staring at them for a while, she grabs a random armful of clothes, half a drawer of Capezios, and her three favorite wigs, and tosses it all on a chair. And then she stands there staring at the chair.

Maybe she can fix this mess once she hears from Katya. But she has no way of knowing when that will be, and her flight is in five hours.

“Stop it,” she tells herself. She sits heavily on the floor and starts rolling up clothes and bagging shoes. She packs them, and unpacks some of them because she didn’t do it right the first time, and unpacks some more because she can’t make a single damn decision.

Finally, her phone beeps with a tone that isn’t Katya’s.

“Three broken fingers,” the text says. “Dislocated kneecap.”

Alaska recoils in sympathetic pain. Knee stuff is bad. Knee stuff could fuck up her splits permanently.

“And don’t be mad,” the next text says. There’s no time to reply before the next one appears. “She had a compound fracture in her forearm but they took care of that and sewed it up before I even called you. She’s fine!”

Horrified, Alaska starts typing before she finishes reading. “You didn’t tell me it was a compound fracture!" 

"Sorry. I knew it would freak you out. She’s FINE. They’re keeping her overnight and I think there’s a signal upstairs.”

“She had a bone sticking out of her fucking skin!”

“But she doesn’t anymore! Look, I don’t get to lose it and you don’t either. I can only handle one of us right now and that’s KATYA.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Alaska replies quickly. “You’ve been great tonight and we’re both lucky you’re there.”

There’s no response, and Alaska can’t blame her. Katya on a good day is A Lot, and while Alaska doesn’t feel overwhelmed by her anymore, she understands why Trixie does. And Trixie doesn’t need Alaska also being A Lot, on the other end of the phone line. 

She stands up, paces, glares at the suitcases, and makes an iffy life decision: she’ll go to sleep now, calm the fuck down, and get up when Katya calls or when her alarm goes off, whichever comes first.

<><><>

Alaska’s subconscious knows Katya’s ringtone, and she grabs her phone before she’s really awake. “Kati?”

“Aaaaaaal, I am a pitiful, broken shell of a biological woman.”

The humor in Katya’s voice improves Alaska’s mood immediately. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

“Me too. God, I’m a dumbass.”

“I’d like to disagree with that, but-”

“But you can’t!” Katya says, laughing a much less energetic laugh than usual. “You can’t! It’s demonstrably true!”

“Well, you’re my dumbass, for what it’s worth.”

“Stop it. I’m emotionally fragile today. You’re going to make me cry.”

“I would never. How much does it hurt? Is Trixie still there?”

“Not too bad, and no. They have an early flight. Latrice brought me my phone and some clothes, and then they both had to go.”

Alaska’s heart drops, along with her momentarily heightened mood. “Fuck. I don’t like you being alone in the hospital. When can you leave?”

“Later today, but I can’t fly for at least three days, so I-”

“Three days?!”

“They said a week is better. Something about swelling, or an aneurysm, or-.”

“An aneurysm?”

“No, no aneurysm! That’s just what can happen if you fly too soon, and I’m not flying!”

Calm the fuck down, Alaska tells herself. “No. Okay. You’re fine. Trixie kept telling me you were fine." 

"Stop,” Katya says. “Breathe.”

Alaska sighs. “I’m breathing. I’m just–can you even take a piss by yourself?”

“I’ll figure it out. And I have no shame about pissing myself if necessary, as you well know. And there’s room service!”

Alaska looks at the clock and tries to figure out the math of her flight–when’s the latest she can leave, how long can she continue to put off packing, when does she have to be out the shower–but her brain won’t cooperate.

“I can hear you thinking,” Katya says, “and no, you can’t cancel South America. You have never cancelled a show in your life. I’ll be fine!”

“You’re not fine,” Alaska snaps. “You’re alone in a hospital room on the other side of the country with I don’t even know how many broken bones, I lost count.”

“I’ll keep count. You don’t have to. Al. Are you packed?”

“Half. What do they have you on? Is it working?”

“It’s a Tylenol drip or something, and they keep giving me these shots that I swear are a fucking miracle. I made them write ‘no opioids’ on my chart.”

“See?” Alaska says. “That’s why you need someone with you! Doctors fuck that shit up all the time!”

“Al. Is your flight still at 7:55?”

“I–yes.”

“Then you need to finish packing right now. Oh, no,” she says to somebody else. “No eggs, please. Could you take them away? Thanks.”

“They’re feeding you food you don’t even like!”

“No, they’re not. I have toast and cornflakes and orange juice and I’m fine. Pack.”

Sniffling, Alaska squeezes her eyes shut. They’re burning. “Kataya.”

“Pack.” Katya crunches on something, and then yawns loudly.

“I’m keeping you awake,” Alaska says.

“Fuck you, no you’re not. The lack of research into non-opioid pain relief is keeping me awake.” She stops for a second. “Are you crying?”

Alaska sniffles again. “It’s so dumb. I’m tired and pathetic, and you’re the one who’s hurt.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been entertaining everyone else to keep myself sane for hours, and I know you’ve been ruminating instead.”

Ruefully, Alaska says, “I ruminated so hard I had to go to sleep.”

“I knew it! I have got you pegged, gurl.” There’s a brief pause. “Don’t make a bottom joke. If you make a bottom joke, I’m breaking up with you.”

“I won’t make–oh, my God, you’re still doing it!”

“Huh? Breaking up with you?”

“Entertaining me. You shouldn’t have to worry about that!”

“Of course I should. It’s in the job description. Now pack.”

<><><>

They hang up when a gaggle of doctors and med students swarms into Katya’s room, which frankly does nothing for Alaska’s anxiety level. She goes to splash cold water on her face and finds she never even took off her makeup. So she showers as quickly as she can, throws on some clothes for her flight, and goes back to sigh over the open suitcases on the floor.

Nothing fits the way it usually does; her favorite lashes disappeared somewhere between the club and now; the sunscreen isn’t where it’s supposed to be; she has to check her phone to see how many shows she’s doing, because she can’t keep even basic information in her head anymore.

Frustrated, she throws a Louboutin at the wall and refuses to cry again.

If sleeping earlier was an iffy life decision, the one she’s about to make is unquestionably awful.

No, she corrects herself. It’s a bad decision professionally. But she’s reached a point in her life, and in her career, where she’s allowed to put her personal life first, once in a while. 

Anyone who hates her for it can just send her a million snake emojis again.

<><><>

Katya wakes with no concept of time. There’s sunlight in the room, but she doesn’t know which direction the room is facing. There are loud voices in the corridor, but that means nothing. Her stomach is empty. Her broken fingers are throbbing, but strangely, not her knee or her arm. And she smells…

“Al?” She looks around, and finds her boyfriend curled up in a stylish, upholstered chair that suggests she’s going to pay through the nose for this room.

Alaska’s got one foot under her, and the other leg thrown over the arm of the chair. She’s hugging her old backpack to her chest, with her glasses practically off her face and her neck curled at what can’t be a comfortable angle. There’s no product in her hair–she doesn’t leave the house without product in her hair–so a wisp of frizz is flopping down over her eyes.

Katya’s never been so simultaneously overjoyed and enraged to see someone in her life.

A nurse bustles in, knocking perfunctorily on the door. “Mr. McCook, you’re awake! Let’s change out that drip and get you ready for dinner.” She notices the sleeping form in the corner. “I heard your husband was here. He’s as cute as you are!”

Katya doesn’t react to the word husband–you do whatever you have to do to get into a hospital room–but it seems to wake Alaska up.

“Your wh–Kati?” She jerks up straight and looks right at Katya. She might still have a little purple shadow in the corner of one eye, but Katya can’t be sure.

“Yes, darling,” Katya says. “I’m here, and you’re an idiot, and you have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

Alaska startles when she sees the third person in the room. “Oh, hi,” she says.

“Hi there. Are you Mr. McCook also?”

Katya laughs. Alaska, barely awake, takes it seriously. “No, I–I mean, we don’t have–professionally it’s just-”

“Honey, stop,” Katya says. The nurse changes out the bag on Katya’s drip in a few practiced movements, and Katya squints to see her name tag. “Tina here isn’t going to kick you out. Hi, Tina. I’m Brian, and that’s Justin, and he’s an idiot who shouldn’t be here.”

“Fuck work,” Alaska says. She already looks less anxious than she sounded on the phone, and she starts stretching her long neck, to wake up. Katya knows which muscles Alaska will work through first, second, third, knows exactly where Alaska will be sore from sleeping like that, and she smiles.

“He’s also a workaholic suffering from temporary insanity,” Katya adds.

“Oh, no, I agree with him,” Tina says as she checks Katya’s pulse. “Family comes first, right? There are no meds in that bag. The doctor wants to switch you over to oral administration before we let you go. How’s the pain?”

“It’s actually okay. Did you give me another injection while I was asleep?”

“An injection of what?” Alaska asks.

“I told you about the miracle shots,” Katya calmly reminds her.

“Yes, we did,” Tina says, and explains what they use to numb the nerves, which Katya hadn’t known was possible until they gave her the first one. “Are you hungry, Brian?”

“I could eat a horse,” Katya says. Tina leaves with a smile, and Alaska bursts out in a laugh at the secret innuendo.

“You slut,” Alaska says lightly. “You won her over fast.”

“Hearts and minds, one fracture at a time. Remind me to tell you about Gay Steve. And Luis. And Marie Adeline. Her son’s a nurse here, too! And Kang, she’s my doctor.”

“Everybody loves you.” Alaska finally stands up and approaches the bed.

“God knows why, but I’m used to it. Hi.”

“Hi.” She leans down to kiss Katya on the forehead.

“That is not the kiss I was expecting.”

Alaska winces, and runs her tongue over her front teeth. “I don’t think I’ve seen a toothbrush in like a day, I forgot to bring it. You don’t want-”

“I do,” Katya says, and puckers up. Alaska gives her a little peck. “Ew, that was disgusting,” Katya complains.

“I warned you. The pain’s really okay? You looked like you were sound asleep.”

“I think I was. They gave me an SSRI I used to take a long time ago. Knocked me right out,” Katya says. “Now, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m an idiot, like you said.”

“Also demonstrably true.”

“And what your new friend said. Family comes first.”

Katya’s heart feels like it could jump out of her chest. She reaches for Alaska’s hand. “That is the corniest thing I have ever heard you say, and I’m never going to let you forget it.”

Alaska gives her that soft, crooked smile Katya loves, and squeezes her fingers twice, like a heartbeat.

Then she deflects with a smirk. “You know,” she says, “between Trixie leaving the show with you, and me cancelling six shows-”

“Six? That’s the whole tour!”

“-Reddit’s going to have plenty of things to talk about. I’ll reschedule, it’ll be okay. I’ll make it okay.”

She’s telling herself that, too, not just Katya. Katya rubs the back of Alaska’s hand with her thumb, and lets the subject go.

“Let’s make up a long, complex love triangle narrative,” Katya says, “where you’re the sad but sublimely gorgeous third wheel, and I’m married to a prick who can’t get it up, and I’m the quirky, unnaturally pretty girl you come to blows over.” She sighs happily. “It’ll be beautiful. It’ll be heart wrenching. I’ll cry. And then I’ll dump both of you for Willam.”

Alaska cracks up, and Katya joins her, gratefully. 

“Are you sure they didn’t give you the good stuff?” Alaska asks.

“That’s what Trixie said.”

“Because at your highest level of functioning-”

“-I come off high as a kite. The bird, not the toy.”

“There’s a bird called a kite?”

“I told you you were an idiot. Or maybe it’s like a stingray? I’m an idiot, too.”

“I couldn’t leave you here by yourself,” Alaska says, scrunching up her nose. “Somebody has to keep you alive and entertained.” She thinks about that, and adds, “Maybe the next time you do a faceplant off a stage I can be cold and detached.”

“Maybe next time you’ll be with me.”

“One can only hope,” Alaska says. Then she winces again. “Oh, fuck, I need to send flowers to Trixie. Don’t let me forget.”

“Why? She said you were an absolute gentleman. A credit to our relationship. A credit to the species homo." 

"She did not say that, and you are a lying liar.”

“She almost did!” What Trixie actually said was that Alaska was a grown-up and could handle herself, but Katya could read between the lines.

“I was a credit to the species homo,” Alaska says, “right up until I turned into a scared little goblin. I’ll tell you about it later. Did they say when you can leave?”

“They said they’d check on me before dinner and decide for sure.”

Alaska ostentatiously checks her phone. “It’s 4:30.”

“Be nice,” Katya says. “My mom’s a nurse. We like nurses.”

“I know your mom’s a nurse, shut up. Do you need me to do anything? Does the hotel know you’re extending?”

“Yes, they know.” Katya thinks for a minute. “I’m sure there’s something practical you could be taking care of, but I don’t care. Just squeeze in here, we can watch Golden Girls and you can tell me how much you love me.”

She tries to inch away to make room on the bed, but pain stabs her in at least five different places. “Ow, fuck!”

“Let me help you, for fuck’s sake!”

Alaska was right. Katya would have starved or died of filth alone in a hotel room. She grumbles about moving anyway.

Eventually they get Katya settled and the pain back down, and Alaska sits up against the headboard next to her. “Tina’s going to kill me,” Alaska says, but Katya can feel her starting to relax.

“Oh, the irony. Now shhh, I’ve never seen this one,” Katya says. Alaska’s on her intact side, her hips by Katya’s head and her legs stretched out along Katya’s body. Katya lets the warmth seep under her skin.

Alaska quotes along happily with the first episode, but then goes quiet for the second. Halfway through, she asks, “Do we know a good gay lawyer?”

“Mmm,” Katya says. “Hospital visitations.”

“Power of attorney.”

“Healthcare proxy. All that stuff.” She tilts her head back to see Alaska’s face. “Did they give you a hard time?”

“No, but I wouldn’t have been surprised.”

“Not the most queer-friendly state.”

“No. And the amount we travel…”

Katya nods. “Somebody will, eventually. You up for this?”

Alaska scritches Katya’s scalp, and Katya sighs in appreciation. “I’m in for good. You?”

Katya nods. “Till death. And then I’ll be haunting you, and we’ll have all the kinky ghost sex.”

“Well, if you’re going to haunt me anyway,” Alaska says, slow and deadpan, “it’s only fair that I get to decide when to pull the damn plug.”

Katya laughs until she wheezes, and Alaska resists for a bit before joining in.

“Luckily,” Alaska says once they’ve calmed down, “I’ve got nothing to do for the next week but help you pee, and search for lawyers on the internet.”

“Not nothing. You’ll also be giving me a lot of head.”

“That goes without saying.”

They share a suggestive smile and go back to watching TV. Alaska starts quoting the dialogue again as the last bit of tension leaches out of her body, and Katya virtually melts into her side. One scene later, she gets bored and throws a possessive arm over Alaska’s leg, tapping out a restless beat on the inside of her knee. 

They’ve talked about marriage, and decided it’s too heteronormative for them. But this, the legal shit. The legal shit matters. It’s only luck, and the privilege of having supportive families unlike so many couples they’ve known, that’s allowed them to ignore the odds for so long. 

Nurse Tina returns to find Alaska happily voice acting all the roles in one of her favorite episodes, and Katya happily tapping out a song that will make Alaska laugh when she recognizes it.

“I should make you move,” Tina says. She’s got a cup of pills in one hand and a cup of water in the other. “But you two are just too cute. I guess gay marriage isn’t so bad, after all!”

Katya tilts her head back to look at Alaska’s face. “Your point.” But she smiles at Tina anyway. 

Alaska smiles, too. “Exactly,” she says, squirming to get her phone out of her pocket. “Never mind tomorrow, I’m going to start that search right now.”

#rpdr fanfiction #alaska thunderfuck #katya zamolodchikova #katlaska #hurt/comfort #angst #kamylove #got to have you all the time #tw medical content #tw accidental injury #submission #canon compliant

[whumptasticwednesday]

The Mind Of A Mutt (Hunger Games - Mockingjay)

Alright guys, As promised, Whumptastic Wednesday has returned. 

Just some background, this fanfic takes place during Mocking Jay Part One. I do reference some stuff from the books that weren't in the movie, so if you haven't read the books and you are confused, then read the damn books because they are incredible (AND VERY WHUMPY!!!) That’s all for now. Please enjoy, and don’t forget to give me some feedback. I would love to know what you guys think. 

-Jimmy

Word Count- 2,299

Warings- violence 

The cold floor of the cell sends goosebumps crawling up my arms. My hairs stand on edge, and every couple seconds my whole body twitches. The tracker jacker venom runs thick through my veins from the last "session." That's what they call them: President Snow and his team of doctors and nurses. Their only objective is to keep me alive long enough to torture me, to damage my brain and fill my head with artificial memories meant to brake me. Day in and day out, they show me pictures of Katniss, her voice rings through my head as they beat me. I have violent hallucinations of her doing unspeakable things to me. I feel every second of it. Why can't they kill me? Send my conscious mind into a desolate never-ending state of nothingness, because that's too easy. Nothing in the capital is easy. That's why twenty-four kids are sent to the Hunger Games every year. Because somewhere in Snow's sick distorted perception of reality, watching kids slaughter each other and celebrating the victors whos lives will be forever plagued with nightmares and flashbacks, is the only way to keep the districts in line. The only way to hold off the rebellion. Well, not anymore.

Katniss is the rebellion, the Mockingjay, and President Coin has got her. She's the reason I'm tortured in a cell in the capital. Katniss is the rebellions weapon, and I'm the capitals weapon. The only difference is never-ending suffering experienced by those saved by the capital. They are turning me into a Mutt, wearing me down little by little till I snap. Until my mind reaches depths of madness incomprehensible by a sain human. This issue is, it's working. Every day I feel my self becoming angrier and angrier. With every injection, every beating, every drop of my blood spilt, my anger grows. I can feel it festering in the back of my mind.

I try to sit up, but my arms feel week and numb. My vision begins to look fuzzy, and my eyelids feel heavy. The black polished shoes of President Snow standing in front of me is the last thing I can remember before I finally let my eye's close. In seconds I'm overtaken by sleep.

I inhale sharply as my eye's shoot open. Where am I? How long was I out? My breathing quickens as I try to move. My arms and legs are strapped into a chair. My heart begins to rase in my chest as I thrash violently, trying to escape.

"Don't struggle," I shoot my head up. President Snow is standing in front of me, two doctors wearing all white at his side. "You will only make it worse."

I grit my teeth. I've been here before. I know what's going to happen. I'm so tired, so fucking tired.

"Please." I plea, hot tears well up in my eyes. "Please, not again. I can't take this anymore." My voice cracks as I look up at President Snow. His cold face is unnerving. His dead stare sends a shiver down my spine. He nods, signaling to the doctors that its time. The doctors in their clean white coats approach me. I close my eye's, hoping that maybe if I think hard enough, this might all have just been a bad dream. I could wake up in a cold sweat, next to Katniss in our house in the victor's village. We could spend the morning talking about my nightmare like we always do when one of us has a distressing dream.

The prick of the IV being inserted into my arms knocks me back to reality. Reminds me that I'm not in my bed, I'm strapped to a chair in the capital, and I'm definitely not dreaming. I hold my breath as a cold liquid fills my veins. Suddenly my head feels like it's a thousand pounds. I let gravity do the work as my head goes limp against my chest. All at once, my ears begin to ring, louder, and louder, and louder. I squeeze my eyes shut. I think my eardrums might burst. I bring my knees to my chest and my hands to my ears, my throat letting out a blood-curdling scream. As abruptly as it began, it was over. Replaced with a silence that's equally as uncomfortable. I open my eyes, my arms and legs are free, I'm not in the capital anymore, I'm in the cave, from the first games. I prop my self up on my elbows; I look down, my wound is as bad as ever. Blood and pus seep out of the jagged cut — my whole body aches. Sweat drips down my face, and I have to bite my lip to stop from screaming.

"K-Katness," I pant, the pain is worse than the first time I experienced it. "Katn-ness, p-p-please!" I call out, where is she? Why isn't she here with me? Abruptly she appears beside me.

"I've brought you a treat. I found a patch of berries a little farther downstream" she says, brushing the hair from out of my face. Not again, I am not falling for this trick again. Katniss brings a spoonful of the mashed berries up to my mouth. This time they look different. Not red, and they don't smell like the sleeping syrup my mom used to give me. The mash is jet black. NightLock. Katniss is trying to kill me. I back away, dragging the lower half of my body with my arms. A malignant smile creeps onto Katness' face as she traps my neck under her arm. I choke and scream, trying to kick her off of me.

"Shhhhhhh, it will be over before you know it," She whispers, prying my jaw open like its nothing. I cringe as the sour taste of the nightlock berries hit my tongue. I heave as Katniss lifts her arm from off my throat. My relief is short-lived as she instantaneously clamps her hand over my mouth and plugs my nose. "This doesn't have to be difficult. One swallow. One swallow and all this pain will be over."

Nightlock, dead before it even hits your stomach, I remember. I fight underneath her. My lungs burn; they are screaming at me for oxygen. Black spots start the cloud my vision. I'm going to die. Whether that's from asphyxiation, or nightlock was my choice. I finally give in. My throat burns as I swallow. Katniss releases her hands from over my mouse and nose, and I gag and choke. My limbs start to feel heavy; the world around me begins to spin. I can see Katniss mouthing words to me. Why can't I hear her? I can feel her brush my hair out of my face. The pain I once felt begins to splinter away into a raw numbness. Soon the only thing I can discern is my heartbeat. Slow and unnatural. Like the heartbeat of a mutt.

Catching me off guard, the pounding in my ears begins to quicken. As I come back to my senses, I can hear my self gasping for breath. My vision returns soon after my hearing. I see the world speeding past me. More specifically, I see trees speeding past as I sprint through the forest. I feel like I'm not in control of my body. My lungs are on fire, and my muscles feel like they are threatening to snap. But I keep running. Suddenly my head shoots backward, and I know all too well what I'm running from. Mutts. A huge wolf-like creature is sprinting close behind me. But there is something different. I remember the mutts who chased after me in the first games. How could I forget? But this wolf was different, but at the same time... familiar. The smooth brown coat and piercing stern green eyes were all I had to see. This mutt was Katniss. Similar to the wolfs the capital made from the dead tributes in the first games. Katniss was hunting me. And I bet anything, that one stumble, and she wouldn't hesitate to rip me limb from limb. The forest floor becomes a minefield of sticks, rocks, and other things I can't identify given my current situation, but would undoubtedly lead to my inevitable demise if I were unable to avoid them. I feel in control of my body again. The first thing I notice is that the adrenaline that kept me running fast enough to stay ahead of the mutt has warn off. I'm starting to fall behind. Humans weren't built for this kind of physical exertion — my whole body cramps with every wheeze of my exasperated lungs. I feel my eyes begin to roll back into my head. My brain feels like static. Any minute my body is going betray me. I'm knocked back to reality as my foot gets caught on a rock, sending me tumbling down the steep hill. A scream tears through me as the mutt's teeth sink into my leg, dragging me down the hill. Blood smears the dirt behind me as the wolf finally slows down, stopping in the middle of the forest. Pained sobs erupt from deep within my chest. I scream through clenched teeth as the mutt's jaw opens, releasing teeth that were buried deep within my leg. Without warning, it lunges at me, teeth showing, ropes of drool cascading down its chin. I hear a sickening crunch as it jumps on me with all its weight. Hot tears spill down my cheeks as blood bubbles up my throat, leaking out my mouth. I kick and thrash, trying to release my self from under its weight, but I'm too weak. It snarls and snaps at me. I put up my arms in defense, trying to cover my face. Within minutes, my arms are a blood bath. Full of bite marks and cuts. I wail as the rabid dog rips me to pieces. I begin to lose feeling in my limbs, and my vision starts wavering in and out. I'm too weak to defend my self. Deep lacerations scatter my body. It's Tearing into me like I'm nothing but it's next meal. All the while, I stare into its eyes. Katniss' eyes. I feel my mind begin to deteriorate. Please end this. Please end me. I can't take this anymore. My body slowly slips into an empty numbness; this feeling isn't new. This is how most of my hallucinations end, with a numb body and a broken mind. My vision abandoned me a long while ago. Leaving me alone with my thoughts. It's hard to describe how I feel in these moments. When my body is numb and my brain has shut off anyway for me to identify where I am or what's going to happen next. My mind is in such a drug-induced haze; it's forgotten how to perceive the world around me. My eye suddenly shift as sporadic visions of Katniss and Gale flash into my brain. No, please, no. Like my own private movie under my eyelids, I watch Katniss and Gale laughing and smiling as they touch each other in a lust-filled haze. Please make it stop. Every touch, every kiss, fuels a fire buried deep within me. I can feel jealousy brewing in the pit of my stomach. This isn't real. I try to distract my mind, but the hallucinations win every time. I can't stop them. They start to get faster, flashing in and out of my mind like strobe lights. I see visions of my mom, of my family. Of the bombing of District Twelve. I watch as bombs rip them apart — peacekeepers making sure to put a bullet in the heads of anyone who survived the initial explosion. I feel sick to my stomach. My brain is moving at a mile a minute. This isn't real. I repeat it over and over in my mind. Start simple; start with what you know is true. My name is Peeta Malark. My home is District Twelve. I was in the Hunger Games. Katniss was saved. I was left behind.

My eye's open. Fluorescent lights blind me. Where am I. My arms and legs aren't strapped down? I look down; I'm wearing a clean white hospital gown. I look up. A group of people wearing gray jumpsuits are conversing around a clipboard. District thirteen is written on the back. I'm not in the capital anymore. They saved me.

"Should we bring her in?"

Their voices are muffled; I can almost make out what they're saying.

"Are you sure he's ready?"

My head begins to pound, and I lay back down on the bed. Coving my eye's with my hands, taking deep breaths. I'm processing a lot right now. I feel adrift of cool air as the door to the room opens. Looking up, suddenly im staring into those familiar green eye's. I feel my chest begin to swell with anger. My mind flashes back to everything that happened to me in the capital. All the pain I endured. All that emotion, all that damage, it's all because of Katniss. I looked into her eye's as she stabbed me, kicked me, mauled me, drugged me, burned me, killed me. I let my anger control me as I lurch forward, grabbing her by the neck and slamming her down onto the porcelain floor. The look of shock and horror spreading across her face only makes my desire to watch the life drain from her powerless body grow. Hot tears stream down my face. I don't want to kill her. But the resentment I feel needs an outlet. I don't know how to stop it. The need to strangle her feels compulsive. Just a side-effect of a damaged mind. The mind of the capitals weapon. The mind of a Mutt.

#HungerGames #Hunger #Games #katniss everdeen #Whump #Hunger Games Whump #Mockingjay #hungergames mockingjay #Hunger Games Fanfiction #Fanfiction #Peeta Fanfiction #Peeta Mallark Fanfiction #Mockingjay fanfiction #Hunger Games Mockingjay Fanfction #Peeta whump #Peeta Mallark whump #Peeta Mellark #Peeta hijacked #hijacked #Peeta Hurt #Mutt #Peeta Mallark Mutt #WhumptasticWednesday #WhumptasticWednesdayFic #whumptastic #Hunger Games Catching FIre

[jamiefairfaxisntcool]

/mu/core album review | Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

/mu/core album review #1

this week on /mu/core album review, we look at:

Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

Ah yes, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. The album that’s mostly known as either, “that one weird album from the 90s,” or, “/mu/ basic bitch meme music.” If you’re anywhere past a casual music fan, you have most-likely heard some songs off this project, if not the whole thing, doubly so if you’re into 90s culture, Indie, or any sort of Art-Rock or Folk movements. As I type this, the most popular YouTube rip of the album has about 4.3 million views, a playlist separating each track stands at 500,000 views, and the title track has a remarkable 40,733,956 plays on Spotify. Holy shit, to put that into perspective: AV Club writes that, “In The Aeroplane Over The Sea was originally slated to sell about 7,000 copies,” that’s roughly 5,819 times the predicted sales numbers of the album on just that song. This also means that this song has been listened to for approximately 131,163,338 minutes, a total of around 131,163,299 more minutes than the actual album length. Humanity has spent a collective 249 years listening to In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. Oh, and that’s just the title track.

If I couldn’t spell it out so clearly there, this album is fucking outrageously popular.

Even if you haven’t heard any material off the LP, this album is memed pretty heavily in the music corners of the internet. I don’t think I can find a single music meme page or forum that hasn’t jumped upon the ITAOTS or NMH bandwagon.

At this current point in time, ITAOTS has became a permanent resident in the zeitgeist of internet music culture. NMH, and by extension, it’s creator, Jeff Mangum have been elevated to a cult of personality status. The band and this project are accompanied by a never-ending choir: 15-25 year old sad white boys who cry while sing-screeching about semen and Anne Frank and poorly play open chords on their detuned Ibanez acoustics.

It’s oddly beautiful.

The album is so deceptively simple, so creatively cryptic and has all the elements of a slog faux-folk fest filled with whining that would bore me to so many tears that they could rival the sad boy indie kids who lose their e-girls to their more socially active explore-page bait counterparts. To a person not familiar with it, ITAOTS could look like an over hyped, masturbatory depression tape. It looks boring. It looks like it should be boring.

If it should be boring, then why have I only listened to it and absolutely nothing else for the last two days?

This isn’t a joke, I revisited the album of course to refresh myself before sitting down and writing this review. I kept listening, over the course of a school day, in-between production and songwriting sets, while playing games, and as I write this, I just finished my eighth spin of the record. Before those last two days, I had only listened to the album probably twice. 

I remember listening to it back in seventh grade and not particularly disliking it. I was really into Yes and a lot of other Prog and Psych bands, but I wasn’t particularly impressed with the almost yuppie voice that Jeff had used on the record compared to vocal beasts like Freddie Mercury, Bowie, and Jon Anderson. Later on, I listened in freshman year, and I appreciated it much more, and had a few songs come up in my shuffle play, but thought nothing much of it.

Now, war had changed.

part 1: i’m the fucking carrot king

As I plopped down in my computer chair, my window crackled and banged like a distant firecracker with the smack of heavy rains on a Summer afternoon. I placed my headphones firmly atop my ears, closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair. I heard the opening chords of The King of Carrot Flowers Pt. 1 and tried not just to hear the instrumentation, but also pay attention to the lyrical content of Mr. Mangum.

When you were young, you were the king of carrot flowers And how you built a tower tumbling through the trees In holy rattlesnakes that fell all around your feet

Okay, so what the fuck is actually happening here?

Upon my listens, I inferred that Jeff is speaking to another party here, most likely a female love interest, in what seemingly starts in a nostalgic tone. This sounds almost like a picturesque, coming-of-age, Americana film. Maybe one starring Molly Ringwald and River Phoenix, with a surprise cameo from someone famous back then like Jack Nicholson. Maybe John Candy, with a John Hughes script. Everything would have those faded out, classic colors, a hearkened back era. Quickly, by halfway through the first act, the tone shifts. A darker mood, a stark, grim reminder that life wasn’t always sunny and shinning in Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.

And your mom would stick a fork right into daddy's shoulder And dad would throw the garbage all across the floor As we would lay and learn what each other's bodies were for

The Mang informs us of a horrific family life, specifically about what seems to be his dad’s, stepmom’s, and stepsister’s interpersonal relationships. The lines are obvious and straightforward, the life of our protagonist was rife with unhealthy familial and sexual relationships, and a sense of love and sweetness was not found there. Keep that in mind when thinking about later songs such as Oh Comely.

After the somber intro of Carrot Flowers Pt. 1, we reach my personal least favorite track on the album: The King of Carrot Flowers Pt. 2 and 3.

Look, I know the meme. “I LOOOOOOOOOVE JESUUUS CHUHRIEEEIISSSSTT,” and all that shit. I’m not even worked up about that line in particular, I just dislike Pt. 3. It’s the weakest of the upbeat songs on the album, with the weird yodel-screech voice that Gumman performs with really takes me out of the experience, which sucks because the buildup and atmosphere of Pt. 2 felt pretty amazing. Luckily, Pt. 3 is fairly short, so we don’t have to worry about it too much.

part 2: earth angel’s thesis

The title track for this album is one of the best songs on this album, no fucking contest. In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, Oh Comely, The Fool, and Two-Headed Boy Pt. 2 are top contenders when discussing this album. If you like the faster, fuzzier, upbeat songs you could probably substitute The Fool for Holland, 1945.

The title track has a familiar sounding chord progression and we can hear Gum from Jet Set Radio’s saccharine but yelp-y voice belt out from atop the mountains his undying love and admiration for... Anne Frank?

What a beautiful face I have found in this place That is circling all round the sun What a beautiful dream That could flash on the screen In a blink of an eye and be gone from me

In the first verse, Geoff mentions meeting or viewing a beautiful person on this fleeting rock circling round the Sun. He also matches this with the idea that it’s truly futile for him to chase after this beauty, as it is only a dream that could escape him when he awakes. El Jefé has actually mentioned that some of his surrealist lyrics are derived from dreams. Perhaps these lines could imply a more literal dream fading? I don’t exactly know, all I know is what I interpreted.

The instrumentation of this piece is nothing straying from NMH’s usual repertoire: Mandrake on Guitar and Vocals, Scott Spillane on the Horns, Robert Schneider on Bass and Production, Julian Koster playing... something. What is he playing? Wait, give me a second.

He’s playing the Singing Saw? I thought it was like, a Theremin. What the fuck is a Singing Saw?

Oh.

Okay sure, you can play that, however the fuck you do that.

And finally we have Jeremy Barnes on Drums.

The personnel handle the music with a light, bouncy feeling, and the tone and timbre remind me of a faded, old, seaside town on the east coast. Another thing to mention is that the chord progression is G-Em-C-D; I-vi-IV-V. A funny thing I noticed is that this song shares a chord progression with tons of songs from the 50’s and early 60’s, which adds to the waning Americana feeling, but it more specifically shares that progression with Earth Angel by The Penguins. In the 80’s film, Back To The Future, Marvin Berry covers the song with his band for the Enchantment Under The Sea Dance where Marty’s dad and mom have to dance to ensure that the future stays intact. There’s no further real connection, but I thought that was kinda cool to mention.

After looking through the lyrics for In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, I will admit, as a brainlet Two-Headed Boy Pt. 1 eluded me. Patrolling through Genius and some other reviews, I guess the consensus about this track was that it was about Anne Frank again? Manta Jeff’s cryptic lyricism continues to fool me. Besides the lyrics, this track mostly remains a piece of really good filler.

part 3: stop the military occupation of my brainwaves

The Fool is amazing, anyone who says it’s filler is wrong. I know I might anger some people by literally implying that Two-Headed Boy Pt. 1 was filler, but seriously The Fool just makes me a feel a way. My brain creates a scene reminiscent of a depressing diesel-punk Les Misérables. Even though Scotch Spillage’s fantastic piece for horns is beautifully imperfect, it lacks lyrical content and is short and length. So, let’s instead talk about Holland, 1945.

This awesome, uptempo, almost punk-like piece of fuzzy brass is groovy son. It’s probably the song you could show someone not familiar with this project and they’d be like, “Oh, is this Cake? Why is the lead singer singing so high now?”

Holland, 1945 is a song that you can just listen for the instrumentation. Holland, 1945 is a song that promotes peace and love. There’s so many great things I can say about Holland, 1945. How it’s theme is so perfectly fitting for today’s political climate, how it manages to blend these psychedelic and bluesy timbres with a fast and loud sound and how well it continued the semi-conceptual narrative of Joff’s admiration and love for... Anne Frank.

Okay, fuck it, I have to say it. It’s bothered me ever since I discovered it.

Why Anne Frank? Like, I know why Anne Frank, but I mean like, why, y’know? I’ll say I admire Anne Frank, she was trying her best to live a normal life in a terrifying time to be alive, but I never wanted to fuck her. xxJeffxx’s mentions of Anne kind of make me raise an eyebrow. Especially because the album’s not just about her either. When he gets sexual, it’s difficult to determine whether he is mentioning a third party or Anne, which would be pretty weird, as she was 15 when she died and Heff was 28 when he wrote this. Maybe this is just some patrician music shit that I’m too plebeian to understand, like heated toilet seats or drinking for fun rather than to drown the pain. Maybe I haven’t sat down and watched enough flowery-squarespace-sponsored-lofi-hip-hop-muzak-using-pretentious video essayists to understand it, but what do I know.

part 4: the proletariat cries

To wrap on the second half of the album, this is the half that I cried in.

Communist Daughter is a good song, but with how short it is, it left me wanting more. This track is one of the few that actually features a soft-spoken Jeffen, and its open and dark but dreamy atmosphere left my jaw agape. The mountaintops weren’t the only thing stained.

Oh Comely, Oh Comely. Oh Comely is a song that deserves its own review. The lyrical chops of The Mangum Magnum are on full display as he belts somber, brutal verse after verse, with plenty of juxtaposition between sickening, sexual and vile situations alongside a description of a sweet, innocent young girl, just trying to survive with a guitar by her side. This beautiful, lovely girl gets taken advantage by someone, some people, perhaps even Yeff himself, only seen as an easy lay, a whore, like the ones her father visits often. He disgustingly describes semen in the garden, and her making miracles with her mouth, but I didn’t get a tone similar to so many songs about “sexual-empowerment.” The song is about self-deprecating depression leading to her being used, perhaps even abused. A situation all too real, too close to many of us. As I type this, I don’t know what to think. A woman should of course have individual sexual freedom, but this song doesn’t describe that. It describes trauma, emotional, psychological trauma. Meaningless sex, a rotten smell, staining the flower of a woman, all of this language that could be simply described as gross. This isn’t a happy song about fucking bitches. This song is about how a girl wanted to play music, pluck vines and was taken advantage of, reduced to her roots, and deflowered. Fuck. I wish I could save her. In some sort of time machine.

Two-Headed Boy could refer to a number of things. I have a head canon. This girl, Comely, is being used by the Two-Headed Boy for sexual favors. The Two-Headed Boy then “repays” her in friendship and music, playing their silly little songs. On the surface, Comely assumes the Two-Headed Boy trusts her and cares for her, but really all he wants is sex. Comely, living in a broken home and without a proper male figure in their life, is conned by the Two-Headed Boy, and just wants to live a normal life. Comely is trapped. She’s living in a place that is surrounded by the texture of scum and she knows it, she just can’t call upon the strength to leave. She’s trapped in a home, a ghetto, wanting to live a normal life, but she’s been placed here by the Two-Headed Boy, who knew her mother and father were broken, and she would be too. The Two-Headed Boy broke in, claimed to be her friend, and supports her, before defiling her. Comely was pretty, bright, and intelligent. She was just in a bad situation.

Comely was Anne Frank.

Not to say that they were literally one in the same, but I mean J. Mangum (private eye) is comparing two children, ripped from their lives by this awful world, and intertwining them, blurring the lines.

Who’s the Two-Headed Boy? As I said, it could be a number of people. Nazis, Peter van Pels, hell, even Jeff Manga himself could be the Two-Headed Boy. It doesn’t matter as long as we realize the relationship between oppressed and oppressor.

There is a glimmer of hope for Comely though. Read the closing words from Two-Headed Boy Pt. 2:

Two headed boy, she is all you could need She will feed you tomatoes and radio wires And retire to sheets safe and clean But don't hate her when she gets up to leave

Comely and the Two-Headed Boy split away from each other. Comely leaves the Two-Headed Boy, and the narrator says not to hate her when she leaves. On a deeper level, this could be an introspective Jeff Mangum relating on his past. I don’t really know.

outro

Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

9/10

What did you think? Was I way off the mark, or do you agree? What should I have covered? What did you like, what did you dislike, I’m all ears. Leave a follow and a like if you liked it and I’ll see you on Wednesday.

#neutral milk hotel #music #music review #james fairfax #mu #/mu/core #folk #fuzzfolk #rock #anne frank

[fernwehbookworm]

Second Heart

The Past beats inside me like a Second Heart- John Banville, The Sea

A soft beeping invaded Lena's conciseness, her headache pulsing with it each time. Through a haze she groggily opened her eyes, becoming away of someone touching her. No, tucking in a blanket? Lena blinks a couple more times and her headache seems to spike harshly behind her eyes.

"Ugh, fuck…" she mumbles and tries to lift her hand to her temple but it's tugged short by something in her arm. An IV. Her sluggish mind was starting to put prices together as the harsh smell of sterilization fills her nostrils.

"Lena!" The blonde woman cries from where she just tucked a colorful, warm blanket under Lena's left leg. She reaches out towards Lena but seems to hesitate, just a moment, before pushing the call button for the Doctor. She must be the nurse checking on her. But for wha- "Ah!" Lena uses her fee hand this to grab the side of her head and squeeze her eyes shut. Don't cry. Don't you fucking cry. Luthors don't show weakness. Lena can just picture the disappointed look Lillian would give her right now. That helps her push the pain back, back behind the mask she always wears.

The blonde woman was watching her intently. The blue eyes staring into her in such a way that Lena was sure that she would burn her soul with the heat of it. Lena turns away and takes in the room. A blanket and pillow are neatly folded on the comfortable looking couch in the large hospital room. A laptop sits open with file folders and notebooks splayed out around it on the coffee table. That's not a good sign. The only person who could be here for her would be Lillian and she wouldn't be happy about being called to Metropolis in the middle of the move. This isn't good for our stocks, she can hear Lillian almost sneer. But not quite, she's too proper for a real sneer. Lena is pulled from her thoughts by she doctor entering.

"Well-" she glances at the blonde woman, she shakes her head just slightly. It's a weird interaction but Lena lets nothing show on her face. "Ms. Luthor. Welcome back to the land of the living. You had us worried there for a bit."

"I-" Lena is cut off by her own rough voice. It feels very unused and sore. She casts about for some water, which the blonde is already pouring. Lena nods as she hands it to her and takes a couple of sips.

"I am not sure what is happening right now, Doctor..."

"Doctor Natu. First, I have just a couple questions and I have to check you over. Then you can ask me questions."

Lena sighs, "Very well."

The doctor begins by asking her name.

"Lena Kiran Luthor."

"Age?"

"Twenty-four,"

"What city are we in?"

"Metropolis."

"Who is the current president?"

"President Baker."

"What year is it?"

"2019, seriously are we done yet?" Lena is getting exasperated with the questions and poking and prodding and that stupid little light that the woman is shining in her eyes. The blonde woman had excused herself when the Doctor started.

"Yes, I think so. From what I can tell, you are on your way to being completely healed."

"Doctor Natu, I suggest you start giving me some answers before I sue this hospital into giving me someone who can," Lena says sternly, but still without much emotion.

"May I sit?" She asks, gesturing to the chair next to the bed. Lena nods slightly.

"This is going to be very hard to hear Lena." Lena swallows at the use of her first name, it's to lessen the blow of whatever is coming.

"You suffered a very serious head trauma. From what we can gather, your airplane was shot from the sky, blowing a hole in the plane," the doctor is speaking softly and evenly so as not to frighten her. "You only lived because Supergirl caught you immediately, but as you were basically vacuumed out of the plane by the air pressure, the back of your head caught on the opening. Your brain began to swell from the impact and put you into a coma."

"Supergirl… wait. What plane? How long have I been out? The only plane I was going to get on was the Venture, and I had to pull out last minute."

"You've only been 'out' for six days. But due to the brain swelling, it seems you have lost a great deal of memory." The doctor says softly, picking each word with care.

"How much?" Lena whispers.

"Right now, the year is 2024. You are twenty-nine and currently living in National City, where you moved and rebranded L-Corp five years ago."

"Five…" Lena trails off and looks out the large windows at the unfamiliar skyline. How could she have lost five years of memories?

"Where's my mother? I need to speak to her." Lena almost snaps the question at the poor doctor. Surely she must have been alerted to Lena waking up.

"To the best of my knowledge, some FBI black site after her third escape attempt from the maximum-security prison."

"Nonsense. Who else would be here?" Lena gestures to the pile of stuff on the coffee table. Though now that she looks at it, it's a rather disorganized pile. One with colorful sticky notes and pens and she can see a small Pride flag stuck to the top corner of the back that faces her.

"Well, that's another big thing you seem to be missing because it happened in the past five years. That would be your wife's laptop."

"My wife!?" Lena exclaims, immediately regretting it as her headache rises with her voice. Lena clamps her eyes shut against the pain. The door bursts open at Lena's raised voice and the blonde enters the room again. Her wife enters the room again.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Concerned drips from her voice and fire burns in her eyes as she realizes the source of Lena's outburst must be the doctor.

"I was just informing Lena of her situation. She's missing about five years of time, she referred to the Venture before it exploded."

The woman seems to deflate and sadness floods her features. It makes Lena's heart hurt in an unexpected way. "So before she met me." The woman says softly.

"I'm afraid so. I would like to keep Lena just a few more days. Although the swelling has gone completely down, I would like to monitor her to see if any of her memory returns or if there was further brain damage that we weren't able to assess while she was unconscious. Physical Therapy will start tomorrow morning. Maybe try to tell her some of the major events from after she can remember. It may jog the rest of it. I'll be back to check in before I leave." Doctor Natu stands to leave.

Lena's wife holds out her hand for the doctor to shake.

"Thank you. For everything. For coming when I called. It really means a lot to me."

Doctor Natu smiles softly, "After what you did last year, how could I not? We all owe you big." The blonde woman nods and returns the smile. It's an odd moment before the doctor leaves the room and the blonde woman takes a deep breath before turning to Lena.

"If you would like to sleep, we can talk later." She says in a small voice, it's very unsure of itself and it feels odd coming from the woman. Like Lena knows she shouldn't feel this distant from her.

Lena looks into those bright blue eyes and tries to remember something, anything.

"I would like to know my wife's name if it's not too much?" And Lena knows those are the right words to say because that life is magical to her years. The woman's shoulders relax and she takes the seat the doctor vacated moments before. The woman's hand hovers over Lena's but she pulls back when she sees Lena pull away slightly.

"Right. Guess that would be a good thing to know. Seeing as you don't even remember meeting me. Man, I had always wished I had been cooler when we first met and I actually get a do-over and I'm just ramb-" she pauses at Lena's raised eyebrow before taking a deep breath. "Right. Sorry. Hi, I'm Kara Danvers. Well, now its Danvers-Luthor." The woman, Kara, sticks out a timid hand towards Lena. Lena hesitates before taking.

"Lena Luthor, though I'm guessing it's Danvers-Luthor."

Kara grins, eyes squinting in the corner as she nods. Lena's heart flutters a bit at the sight. This woman was pulling down all the walls Lena had built to protect herself. Or she already had and Lena's body was just remembering more than her brain did. It made her uncomfortable and she tried to shut it down. Kara noticed the change right away and looked at Lena with such deep concern it speared straight through her.

"I'm sorry. I should let you sleep a bit. It's only a little before nine in the morning. I need to make some phone calls anyway. I'll be just outside your door so just call out if you need anything." Kara stands and makes sure the water cup is full and in easy reach, as well as the television remote and the remote attached to the bed for her to call the nurses station. Kara shuts the blinds without being asked and turns out the light on her way. All small gestures that are so foreign to Lena that she spends the entirety of Kara's quick movements in silence until she's out the door.

It sure doesn't help the headache to think about but she is getting drowsy and the pain is numbing from the doctor adjusting her pain meds during the examination. Lena sinks back into the pillow as numbness begins to trickle in much faster now that she is no longer distracted. Sleep is easy to sink into then as the chemicals in her bloodstream do their work.

Lena sits, writing across endless documents as she travels as quickly as she can home. She's eager, that's for sure. It bubbles in her chest as the plane soars across the sky. She really is trying to focus but something keeps pulling her attention. Lena instead gets up to make herself a drink at the mini bar, it's still at least an hour until the descent and the minutes were ticking by too slowly.

She just had to go to London this past week. Of course, it was yesterday that the news came in, instead of in three days. But Lena had left early to be home when…

The sudden explosion knocks her from her feet and she hits the side of the plane as it leeches to the side. Then she's being thrown to the back as her ears pop and the plane begins to fall. Another explosion and the back of the plane is rent open and all Lena can see is the black sky as she rushes towards it. Suddenly her head explodes in pain as she hits the ceiling and a blur of red and blue fills her vision.

Lena wakes with a shout and breathing heavy. The heart monitor is going crazy and then Kara is pushing into the room, eyes wide looking for the source of distress. When she sees Lena alone and takes in her frazzled, sweaty appearance, she relaxes again.  She moves to sit next to Lena and stops short of reaching out again. Faintly, it registers how hard this must be for the woman.

"It's okay. You're safe. It was just a dream. Doctor Natu said it may happen because you are still trying to process everything that happened."

Lena gulps at the air and clutches the sheets. Slowly she gets her breathing back under control and smooths her hair back from her face. Before she can even ask, Kara is holding out a hair tie for her to use.

Lena plucks it from her fingers, "Thanks." She murmurs as she scrapes the oily mess back. She really needs a shower. Lena settles back against the raised bed and tries to relax.

"What time is it?" She asks.

"Almost one. I'll page the nurse to bring you food. Dr. Natu instructed them to let you sleep." Which Kara does immediately after.

"You and the Doctor seemed close. What happened last year?"

"Nothing important right now. She's a friend of my cousin. They needed help with this group thing last minute." Lena raises an eyebrow but lets it go when the nurse deposits a tray of bland food in front of her.

"Sorry dear, we have to keep it simple and ease you back onto solid food. Tomorrow there should be some more fruit though."

Lena saved her sneer for when the nurse leaves. Still, she speers the mushy vegetables on her fork and takes a bite out of the buttered bread. Kara refills her water before taking a seat next to her. Kara is obviously actively looking anywhere but Lena.

"So," Lena starts, trying to figure out how to navigate this situation. Nothing in her Luthor training prepared her for losing her memory only to find out she is married and 'out' of the closet publicly. Also that your mother is in jail alongside your crazy brother and you have moved cities and-

"What do you do for a living? That's a lot of files." Lena gestures with her fork, trying to get a hold of her spiraling thoughts.

"Well, I'm a senior reporter for CatCo."

Lena nearly chokes on her carrot. She swallows and takes a sip of water."I married a reporter? How did that happen?"

"Well actually, I wasn't one when we met. But you kind of gave me the courage to do it."

“I did that?”

“Yeah, you did. It was probably the start of everything for us.”

Lena chews thoughtfully for a few minutes. This woman was nothing like she would have considered dating before. She was open and honest in a way Lena wasn’t used to. It also made her want to slam her walls up and not trust a word out of her mouth. What if this was all a crazy ruse by her insane brother and she wasn’t really married to this beautiful blonde woman. She could only play along to find out.

“Tell me about it then. Maybe it will help jog my memory.”

“Well, it was right after the Venture explosion, the Supers saved the plane from going down. While trying to figure out what caused it, they discovered the only empty seat was...umm… well, yours.”

“So of course the Luthor had to be the culprit.”

“It was suspicious at first, so they asked my cousin to interview you and since I was kind of at a loss of what to do with my life, he invited me along.”

“Who’s your cousin? Anyone I know?”

Kara laughs slightly and Lena realizes how silly of a question that is. She probably knew Kara’s family pretty well at this point.

“Right, I mean, five years ago. Did I know him then?”

“I’d say yes. Clark Kent, he’s my cousin.”

“Crap. A family of reporters? What was I thinking?” Lena only half teases.

“Trust me, it's not the only thing crazy about our relationship, but I’ll tell you more, later. Anyway, Clark brought me along and you were so strong and confidant. Golly, I could barely get a word out.”

Golly? Was she for real?

“Anyway, even Clark was convinced you didn’t do it then. After that, they found evidence that the bomb was planted directly under what would have been your seat. As we investigated the accident you had two more assassination attempts and… Supergirl saved you both times. And actual on the second one, your would-be assassin, had my sister at Gunpoint and you saved her. You were scared but this fire burned in your eyes like nothing I had ever seen before. All you wanted was to do good in the world but your brother was trying to have you killed.” Kara stares at Lena with an intensity that only her Luthor training keeps her from squirming.

“Clark published an article after it was all said and done. It gave you and L-Corp good press that you needed and Clark apologized for not believing you.”

Lena snorts.

“It's true, you said ‘If I can make a believer out of Clark Kent, there’s hope yet.’ Then you turned to me and asked why my name wasn’t on the by-line. I told you I wasn’t a reporter and all you said was ‘Well, you could have fooled me.’ That was it. I just knew if you believed in me, then I could do it. Which is crazy considering I had just met you. But nothing about our story is very normal.”

Kara sits back and fiddles with her glasses a bit, trying to find a way to keep going. THings with Lena hadn’t been this awkward since… well since ever. At least, in the beginning, they had so much to talk about, Kara was able to scale her wall because of the trials they went through together. Now here Kara was, at the finish line of a marathon and Lena had been transported back to the beginning.

“I think… yeah, I think I brought it with me. The article I mean. You saved it way back when and the doctor thought familiar things may help. Hold on.” Kara stands up to fast, almost knocking the chair over with a blush. Lena smiles softly before she even realizes it. This has to be real, because the way her body reacts to Kara, that couldn’t be faked. Her heart flutters with a bit of joy at her clumsiness and her lips smile as if they have done it a thousand times before. Kara Begins shifting through piles of things and it honestly amazes Lena how Kara has very much taken over the hospital room in a week's time. She has to believe Kara was basically living here at this point. She obviously had been working from here.

“Aha!” Kara exclaims, pulling out a small looking photo album from the bottom of a precarious stack of books and papers.

“You pasted it into the front of this photo album. You said it's what started our friendship so a few years ago when we assembled these things, you put it in our ‘Friend.’ album. It's the year before we finally admitted our feelings for one another. Alex likes to call it our Clueless Gay’s’ Year. Because we were so clueless.” Kara excitedly hurries back to her chair to hand the album to Lena. “Hopefully this helps. Go on. The article is in the front, and feel free to look at the pictures too.”

Lena scrutinizes Kara’s eager face before carefully opening the cover. She reads the article, but the words don’t mean much to her. It comes like a muggy memory. The bright white of her new office, Kara in a pink that matches the blush on her cheeks as she fiddles with her glasses. Lena had watched her carefully because she had trust issues, but she instantly thought that she wanted to make Kara smile like that again. She remembers feeling her stomach erupt in butterflies that she barely managed to hide by turning away and walking to her desk.

“I hope this isn’t the last time we talk.” Lena murmurs to herself.

“I hope not either.” Kara gives her almost the same smile as her memory. “You remembered.”

“A little. You were cute. You were wearing that pink blazer. And you kept avoiding my eye contact. It was cute.”

“You made me nervous, not in a ‘Luthor’ sort of way, like you used to accuse everyone of, but in the ‘Oh my Ra-gosh, I think I like women.’ Then it was a roller coaster of my sister coming out to me and working through all of that. And I didn’t want to steal her thunder, plus what if you didn’t like me, or if you were straight and then Jack came back and then Mike and-”

“Jack? Jack Spheer? Why did he come back?”

Kara gets all sad then. Lena can already guess what bad news is coming.

“He thought he cracked his nanotechnology. But really he created a deadly swarm out of himself that his CFO was controlling. When I found out I told you and you went to confront him. In the end, it was either save Jack or save… Supergirl. She had tried to come rescue you. You chose her. Because you are always sacrificing yourself for the good of everyone else. It’s one of the things that made me fall in love with you.”

“He’s… dead?”

Kara nods and Lena sits back against her pillows to take in the information. This time the memory slams into her. Jack in pain on the ground, her fist throbbing from punching the evil woman, Supergirl being suffocated by the swarm that the woman was controlling. She knew, even if she let Supergirl die, her chances of saving Jack were slim. He wasn’t really him anymore. He had sacrificed himself for science and lost. She hits the kill switch.

Lena inhales a deep breath and comes back to the present. Kara’s eyes ask the question and Lena just nods. Instead of looking at her wife, she flips the page and skims a mix of faces, some she knows and some she doesn't. Her and Kara among them along with a smattering of others. Alex, she remembers. She recognizes James Olsen too, but from her time in Metropolis.

“Great, more press.” She grumbles.

“Ah, yeah. You and James dated briefly.”

Lena visibly cringes and almost throws the book away from her.

“That’s how I felt. You admitted later that it was because of our poor communication skills. I encouraged you to go for it, along with the rest of our friends. At the time I was dealing with the heartbreak of losing someone I cared about and then having them show back up in my life. I was also suppressing a lot of feelings for you. You said it felt like we were growing apart and it was a way to stay closer to me. We both made poor decisions.”

“Why are you being so vague?”

Kara chews on her bottom lip as Lena slowly flips through the pages. The plastic protecting the pictures crinkles under her touch. She and Kara spent a lot of time together, and when they weren't looking at the camera, they were looking at each other with so much love that it almost sickened Lena, if it didn’t make her stomach flutter. She flips to the last page with a picture of her and Alex hugging Kara tightly from both sides.

A glass of whiskey set down hard cracks the frame and anger builds in Lena’s chest like a hot beast that she had chained down but now it was free. She snapped the book shut and shoves it back at the blonde woman. Kara recoils at the heat blazing in the green eyes that she hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Crap.”

“Yeah ‘Crap’”

“Lee please-”

“You lied to me! For so fucking long. And you continued lying to me just now! You’ve been lying since I woke up! ‘Oh Lena, Supergirl saved you.’ ‘Oh, Lena I helped with the investigation but you had to choose between Jack and Supergirl.’” Lena mocks her and folds arms over her chest, cringing slightly as her headache throbs with her yelling.

“Rao, I want to have this fight again. I know. I was selfish and I didn’t tell you. I told myself it was to protect you but then it became protecting myself. I was selfish because Supergirl tainted all my relationships and I didn’t want that to happen with you. So be mad. I hope that you can remember how hard we fought to get back to each other. If you can’t then I will fight all over again, because I will always fight for you Lena Luthor. Supergirl may be this city’s hero, but you are mine. You have saved me over and over again, even when you hated me, you saved me.”

Lena averts her gaze, fury still broiling in her chest. She doesn't remember everything, but this she does. She remembers Lex showing her everything before she killed him. She remembers walking into the game night with a bottle of wine, suppressing the urge to throw it at Kara. The lies stacked up and the hate simmering just below the surface. For the first time, she understood her brother’s madness and that made her hate Kara all the more.

Kara sighs and stands up. “I’m not leaving you. Shouldn’t knowing that you’re my wife give you an idea that we get past this?”

Lena remains silent and looks out the window. Kara sighs and goes back to her files. Eventually, Lena turns on the television as Kara types on her laptop. Lena can feel the tension she put between them, but until she remembers the solution to their fight, she is stuck with these feelings and these memories. Kara leaves to take a phone call and at some point, the nurse brings dinner for Lena. Kara returns with a turkey wrap for herself, apologizing that Lena can't have anything more appetizing and Lena studiously ignored her. Lena gets lost in her thoughts, searching the muddled corridors of her brain as she tries to remember anything. Suddenly the light of the bathroom clicks on and Lena is aware of how dark the room is and what it is approaching eleven o’clock. Kara returns with her pajamas on and folds down the couch to sleep on. Lena rolls over and clicks of the TV. The silence is intense and Lena and feels it settling over her like a suffocating weight.

“I love you, Lena. Even if we have to start over again, I will. I swore to you I would always be here, even if it was yourself you were afraid of. I will always protect you.” Kara whispers into the dark.

Lena falls asleep shortly after, dreaming of Kara’s arm around her as she tries so hard to hold herself together. Jack was dead and she had a strange mix of sadness and joy at Kara’s reassuring presence. Kara. Steady as a rock. Lena could let herself fall apart because Kara was there to build her back up. Kara was there when she fell apart on the balcony after Lex escaped. “You are not weak.” Kara had practically growled in her ear. That’s when Lena knew she was in love with her best friend. Not just a crush or loneliness that overtook her late at night. She was in Love.

Lena wakes slowly to the darkroom with tears damp on her cheeks. She felt so sad and angry because even on that balcony, Kara should have told her. Lena told Kara everything but Kara still didn’t tell her. Instead, she had to find out from the brother who had tried to have her killed multiple times. The brother she still tried to save, just to have him betray her again. Lena hears it then, the soft murmuring and slowly sits up to see Kara standing by the window, phone pressed to her ear. The moonlight illuminates the room and gives it a silvery-blue glow. Kara hasn’t noticed that she's awake so Lena lays back down.

“It’s just hard Alex. I know she's having nightmares. Her heart is thundering in her chest but I can’t hold her like I usually do…. Because, she's not my wife, not in her head. In her head right now she's just finding out about Supergirl and we are fighting again.... I’m hoping she remembers, the memories are coming, just slowly….. No, I can't tell her yet. It wouldn't mean anything to her.... Well yes, she'll be crushed of she remembers. No, when. When she remembers…. Yeah, I’ll let you know when we have a more definite release time. She has some physical therapy in the morning and they want to make sure she can stomach more solid foods…. I love you too, Alex. Goodnight.”

Lena tries to keep her breathing even because it's clear Kara doesn't she is awake. Soon she hears the quiet sobs of Kara crying. It breaks Lena’s heart and just as she is about to sit up she hears a siren in the distance. Then more. With a whoosh, the door opens and shuts and Kara is gone. Off to save people because she couldn’t save her wife. Lena cries herself back to sleep before Kara gets back.

The next day is tense. Lena still can’t bring herself to forgive Kara even though all her body wants is to be wrapped in her arms. Small moments keep coming back to her at the most unexpected times. Just flashes of the past five years and nothing in a particular order. Sam moving with her to National City, a date with James (cringe), a date with Kara (her cheeks hurt from smiling), helping save Sam from Reign, adopting a puppy from the shelter and Kara naming him Krypto after her lost home. Happy and sad intermingled as she went through three hours of painful stretching and walking in the physical therapy room with a very beautiful doctor that made Lena have to remind herself that she was married. She wasn’t the single woman that had woken up yesterday. It was easier now as the memories started to fall into place in her mind. But she also so clearly remembered the anger she felt for months as Kara had continued to lie to her about supergirl. It was so strong and she had no idea how her past self had gotten over it.

Kara was a steady presence throughout the whole day. She kept her distance though, trying to give Lena room to not feel pressured. But Lena kept catching Kara watching her. Making sure she was okay and not in pain. When the therapy was over and Lena had kept down a solid breakfast and lunch, the doctor said she was free to go. But go where? She had thought.

“Kara?”

“Yeah, ba-” Kara pauses and clears her throat. “Yeah, Lena?” Kara continues packing up her files and laptop before packing the duffle with their clothes in it. She had made sure Lena was in her, what she assumes was ‘her’, own pajamas and had her own blanket for her stay. Kara keeps busy but Lena knows she is very aware of everything Lena does.

“Where do we live?”

Kara pauses her work and gives Lena a soft smile. “A three-level condo at the top of a building you own. Well, I guess we own, you know the whole ‘what’s mine is yours’ marriage thing. Anyway, the rest is rent-controlled for L-Corp Employees.”

Lena remembers the big floor to ceiling windows that looked over the city, walking distance to the visible L-Corp building so she and her employees could either walk or ride to work, or even carpool, as one of her green initiatives for the company. Lena nods slowly and Kara can tell she remembered something. Maybe all this would take is gentle reminders here and there for Lena’s memory to come back. Getting her home would help also, at least that’s what the doctor said.

By three o'clock Lena s being rolled to the entrance in a wheelchair as Kara pulls the car upfront. Cameras flash at the entrance but Kara had hired a private security team to hold them back. Lena is glad she was able to at least put on jeans and one of Kara’s old sweatshirts instead of the pajamas. Kara pulls up in a car that looks remarkably similar to one Lena had drawn up last year, no wait, six years ago? Before she took over LexCorp. She had a suspicion it was her design which meant it was entirely electric and it made her happy to see something she had dreamed up had become a reality. There was probably much more but she was still reconciling memories to reality.

Kara helped her into the car with as little touching as possible while ignoring the shouted questions of the press. Kara had informed her earlier that Jess, her former assistant, now interim CEO and part-owner of L-Corp, had already made a statement that Lena had lost her memory due to the head injury but was quickly recovering both physically and mentally. She announced that Lena would be taking a temporary leave of absence but with full intentions of returning in two months time. Lena was relieved to know she hadn't just dreamed of promoting her loyal friend and confidant.

Kara drove her to a semi-familiar building and quietly led her up the elevator. She pressed the highest number and held her thumb to the button while it scanned her thumbprint and the light turned green. "Extra security," Kara mumbled. The elevator let out to a hallway with a single door. Kara input a password on the keypad and then placed her hand on a scanner beside the door and it also turned green. Lena remembers having it installed after a crazy stalker of Kara's had broken into their apartment and waited for them to get home. He wanted to take Kara’s brain for himself, or something just as crazy. Too bad he didn’t count on dealing with Supergirl and a Luthor.

Kara opens the door and ushers Lena in. Kara was watching Lena carefully and could see how that trip from the car as wearing on her. Kara planned to get Lena in bed straight away and make her favorite tea. She helps Lena to the couch while she takes their bags to the bedroom and unpacks. Lena looks around and takes in the space.

Memory after memory begins to trickle in as she takes in the pictures on the walls and the knick-knacks tucked between books on the shelves. The blanket Eliza made for them on the couch. The toy chest Alex made during her woodworking phase two years ago. The toy chest? Why did they need a toy chest?

Lena’s world crashes down on her then. She picks up the soft blue blanket and sees the little Danvers-Luthor stitched into it next to a green rattle. Lena runs her fingers over Eliza’s neat stitching and tears are already rolling down her cheeks. She remembers now.

She and Kara had tried the DEO’s experimental technology to use Kara’s DNA to merge with hers to create a child but it was still too early, even with Lena’s brain helping it was too expensive to keep trying after several failed attempts. They talked about an anonymous donor but Kara couldn’t carry the child and if Lena was honest, she didn’t want to have a baby with anyone but Kara. That left adoption. It also led to fights. Lena and Kara had such different experiences in their own lives. Lena was convinced it wouldn’t go well. In the end, Kara convinced her it was Lena’s chance to do better and Kara’s chance to share the love she was given.

After a year of waiting and paperwork and background checks, they just had to wait for a child to be matched with them. But that could take any time from three days to three months. Lena couldn’t cancel her trip to Hong Kong. The Opening of the L-Corp office there had been planned for three years. It seemed safe enough to just go for a week. Until Lena got a call on her third day from Kara that the Social worker was going to be coming in two days with a potential match. Lena immediately canceled her meetings and had the tech crew get her plane ready. It was self-flying and solar-powered, she just wanted it powered up by the time she got to the airfield. She smiled now at the time she and Kara flew to Katznia to confront Lex on an earlier model. It had taken a long time to get over but the lengths Lena went to protect Kara was comical.

But what happened to the one-year-old that had lost its parents in a car crash? What happened to that little brown-haired, blue-eyed baby girl? A sob racks Lena’s chest because now she remembers everything. She crushes the blanket to her chest and hunches over her knees.

She remembers the fights and the makeups. The 'I love you’s' and flowers and forehead kisses. The tension had built after the Supergirl confrontation to the point that they had a screaming match but then suddenly Kara was kissing her and Lena was pulling that stupid cape off. Right there in her office at three in the morning.

Lena was on her way home, almost there, when her plane was shot out of the sky and Kara was there to protect her, just like she always was.

Kara rushed in at the sound of Lena’s crying, taking in the blue blanket in her white-knuckled grasp. Suddenly Kara is cooing in her ear and her strong arms pull Lena back together from where she was breaking in half with her heart. They lost another child. Another chance at a family.

“Shhh… my love. It's okay. It’s okay. Madison went to another loving family. Oh, Lee. We will get another chance. This isn't the end. So many children out there need love” Kara continues reassuring her until Lena can manage to even out her breathing.

“What happened?”

“They didn’t have the funding to wait to place her, and with you, in the hospital, we couldn’t prove to be a suitable home. The woman understood and told me to call her when we were ready again. We won’t have to start over.”

“But I wasn’t here! How did you even handle this on your own?”

Kara cringes. She handled it about as well as Lena was. She fell down right in the entryway, clutching the blanket as the Social Worker carried the baby away. She sobbed until she lost track of time and cried because she should have been at the hospital for her wife. Instead of saying all that she swallows.

“I cried. But I had you to worry about. You are my priority, Lena.”

Lena nestles into Kara, exhausted and just wanting to sleep. Kara’s warm hands rub up and down her arm as Lena cries softly.

“So I take it you’re not mad at me anymore?” Kara asks. Lena laughs wetly and rubs under her nose and her cheeks.

“No. No, I remembered everything.”

“Everything?” Kara teases, Lena elbows her softly.

“Yes, everything. But can I have some tea? This has been a rough forty-eight hours. And my head still hurts.”

Kara laughs a real laugh that is music to Lena’s ears.

“Yeah tell me about it. Come on. I got pretty far ahead on work over the past couple of days, so I took the next two weeks off. Just you and me. And several pints of ice cream to cry this out.” Kara moves to stand up, Lena grips her arm and holds her down. Kara’s forehead crinkles in the very way Lena missed. It felt like she had relieved the past five years and that this huge gulf had separated her from today and just two weeks ago when she had left on her trip.

“I love you. So much. Even when I didn’t know you, you kept all of our memories safe and brought me back to you. You kept all of your vows to me and made me love you even when I was angry. I know this was a setback, and it's going to be hard. You, Kara Danvers-Luthor, are my hero.”

“I will always protect you.”

They sat like that for a few minutes before curiosity overcame Lena.

“What happened to whoever shot my plane?”

“They may or may not have spent the night in the DEO sensory deprivation chamber. Not the goon that was hired but the rival CEO. Frank Chang, I think? The American born son of the former CEO in Hong Kong that you were competing with. Alex dealt with him after that. I was a little too angry to pay much attention other than taking him on the scariest flight of his life.” Lena chuckles at her wife's antics.

“And how were you there? When the plane exploded?”

“I was too amped up so I thought I’d fly along and make sure you got home safe. I just got distracted by…” Kara trails off.

“By what?” Lena arches an eyebrow.

“By what I wanted to do to you as soon as the plane landed.” Kara blushes and Lena thinks its cute, even after all these years. “I was really excited and… umm… well… a bit horny after so long without you.

Its Lena’s turn to laugh out loud and Kara delights in it. “Soon, my love. Soon. You can give me an idea once I’ve been cleared by the doctor. For now, take me to bed and cuddle me?” Lena asks.

“As you wish,” Kara smirks.

“Rao, You watched it again didn’t you?” Lena asks

“Well, how else am I supposed to protest that stupid remake?” Kara exclaims. Lena just rolls her eyes as Kara sweeps her into a bridal style carry with ease.

“All right Dread Pirate. Just don’t let the Rodents of Unusual Size get me.”

“As you wish.”

#supergirl #supercorp #fanfiction #memory loss #married #kara danvers #lena luthor #angst #Happy Ending #OneShots

[butchedyke]

(for the char thing) stanley uris, mike hanlon, and patty blum

migz!!!! i’m sorry i abandoned this in favour of video games and capitalism i hope i can make it up to u uwu

this is mostly going off the movies but there’s occasional book and miniseries input- i’ve only read the first few chapters, a few wikia pages, and some character meta from the book and i’ve only seen the miniseries once vs the however many times ive watched the movies in the last 2 months so don’t expect consistency between canons

 (also i’m gonna put these under a cut because this post got really long)

stanley uris

How I feel about this character:

there is a reason i use the tag baby boy for stan (and also for miniseries eddie)!!!! he’s my favourite loser other than eddie and i want to like. hold him and make sure he’s happy and healthy and i think stephen king should treat his characters better.

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

patty!!!!! their relationship in the book makes me so happy and anyone who’s ever spoken to me about stanpat knows that i am at all times thinking about how she calls his car sedanley.

that being said, i respect stenbrough, stanlon, and streddie but overall this is a stanpat household

My non-romantic OTP for this character:

stan with all the losers but especially richie! which isn’t very original since they are literally best friends but their dynamic!!! good!!!! i’ve not been able to stop thinking about that one scene from the miniseries where richie introduces stan as “this is stan the man uris, he’s a jew,” partially because it’s fucking funny because who says that richie what the fuck, but also because stan just instantly follows up by saying that richie has a high metabolism which makes him hyperactive, and maybe it’s because the miniseries is campy and a little bit shit but the delivery of those lines makes it seem like they do this a lot! they have these introductions ready to go! and i love the idea of them as a platonic package deal even if we don’t get to see much of that in the movies

My unpopular opinion about this character:

i don’t think i really have any? i tend to follow people who hold the same opinions as me tho so i have no idea what’s popular outside of that dshfk

i mean i do think fics that save eddie but not stan aren’t really fix-its and going off the amount of fics where stan’s still dead i guess that’s somehow an unpopular opinion? i know everyone’s focused on reddie rn but god like. stan is right there can we stop ignoring him pls

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

i mean the most blatantly obvious answer here is that i wish he didn’t die! he should’ve gotten to go on his holiday and rail/get railed by his wife and live to meet his friends as adults, catch up on the 27 years they didn’t get to be with each other. he should’ve gotten to have kids, once everything was over, and they should’ve been able to grow up with 5 extra uncles and an aunt bc u can’t tell me the rest of the losers wouldn’t be deeply embedded in their lives. i just wish stan had a chance to be completely, 100% happy without the underlying terror of his childhood.

on a smaller note i also wish we’d gotten to see more of his interest in birds in the movies bc like. he’s babie. and who knows! maybe would’ve helped stop the perception that his entire personality is just being a bitch that hates richie jshfd

mike hanlon

How I feel about this character:

part of the reason i wanted to read the book was for more mike content because i adore this lil farm boy and the movies. well. y’know. :). characters who just openly and whole-heartedly love their friends and go straight ride or die like 10 minutes after meeting them have my whole heart! he’s so smart and so kind and just wanted to protect his friends as best he could even though he dragged them into this whole mess bc he doesn’t want to lose them again!!!! mike deserves the whole world and if his way of getting that is by getting out of derry and getting to know that his friends remember and love him and each other then that’s all i want for him.

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

i wasn’t overly set on any particular mike ship until i watched the miniseries and saw the homoerotic bike montage and now i’m fully on the hanbrough train. choo choo.

just like with stan i support stanlon but endgame hanbrough is just. it’s right there in the text. bill didn’t divorce audra for nothing in ch2.

My non-romantic OTP for this character:

this also kinda ties in with the last point, but jane @billdenbrough opened my eyes, in the middle of a very in-depth conversation about audra’s minion strap, to the world of best friends mike and audra who are both with bill which is both galaxy brained and an incredibly good concept which i think about a lot

also i think mike and ben could’ve had something Incredibly soft if mike wasn’t treated like a background character in the first film and a quest-giving npc in the second one :) :)

My unpopular opinion about this character:

i headcanon mike as gay, i have no textual evidence for this, i just think he’s neat. i think it’s a pretty popular opinion that the movies treated him poorly? and i also think that in ch2 he was just trying to protect his friends in a scenario that did not lend itself at all to protection. drugging bill and not telling the others about the full ritual might not have been the best thing to do, but he was in a goddamn bitch of an unsatisfactory situation, and he was trying his best to save his friends no matter how impossible it may have been.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

i uh :) i don’t know if anyone’s figured out yet :) that i wish many things had happened with mike in canon :) :) the first film doesn’t give him much but the second film just infuriates me completely tbqh! he’s basically entirely there to push the narrative (his dialogue doesn’t even sound like dialogue! it sounds like prose explaining the plot and the next steps the characters have to take!), or to drug and lie to his friends. i wish they’d kept his backstory the same, that we’d actually gotten to see him find his token, that he’d gotten a token relevant to him as an individual rather than the group, that we’d gotten a flashback for him, that he was given more screentime and development across both films, like... i wish he’d been treated like the other losers and not a plot point.

i also wish we’d gotten to see him on his travels post-canon, seeing the other losers, and just generally actually getting to be happy- we see the start of it but god i just want to see him having a good time outside of derry.

patty blum

How I feel about this character:

if she were not stan’s wife she would be my wife. we don’t get to see much of her in the movie or miniseries and that is a fucking crime!!!! i’ve already mentioned sedanley but like. sedanley. i’ve read patty’s bit in the book and that’s all i need the other 1100 pages can get fucked, she’s just here to watch family feud and love stan which i can confidently say is a huge fucking mood

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

STAN. i guess i already talked about this before but i’ll keep going!!! my love for stanpat overwhelms my usual distaste towards straight relationships bc they’re so good!!!!! the fact that they’re really the only happy relationship to come out of the 27 year gap and they love each other so much and so like... wholesomely? but they still blow each other’s backs out on the reg and it’s what they deserve.

also i sometimes think about patty/audra as like. kind of a crack ship kind of a “i’m a lesbian and i’m desperate to see lesbians” ship. i haven’t thought about it in depth i just want to plant the seed

My non-romantic OTP for this character:

stan introducing patty to the losers and patty becoming an honorary loser is my weakness!!!! patty being comfortable enough to rib richie (and richieandeddie) with stan, but also vice versa going along with richie’s bits. patty and bev getting close because as much as st*phen k*ng and co push bev as One Of The Boys(tm) there’s just something in having another woman around that can be refreshing especially when they’re both bicons. patty and mike enthusiastically sharing holiday pictures and tales of their trips. patty noticing when eddie’s having a bad day, whether it’s anxiety or lingering trauma, and supporting him through it, regaling him with stories about stan and what essentially amount to dad jokes (sedanley!!!) and making sure he knows he’s loved and supported by all the losers. patty, the teacher, and ben, lunchtimes-in-the-library ben who never outgrew his love of reading, nerding out over shit that the others don’t really know about. bill telling patty all about what stan was like as a kid in that way only bill can, richie chiming in with crude comments sometimes but noticeably keeping quieter than usual, and patty returning the favour, telling them about the last 27 years, and not even richie makes a single joke when everyone tears up (because he’s tearing up the most). stan sitting there the whole time not even bothering to point out that he’s right there because it’s enough for him to see the romantic love of his life and the platonic loves of his life bonding, and yeah, maybe it was worth sticking around for.

My unpopular opinion about this character:

i don’t know if this is unpopular but patty pegs. that’s all.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

more patty. let me see my wife.

#eddiekissbrak #migz this has literally taken me hours i hope ur happy #i can't remember if the book specifies what patty teaches so i'm taking some liberties because i don't care what stephen king has to say #kinda went off the shits with patty there rip #i'm also like. not good with thoughts or with words so im sorry if this is underwhelming dgfhjsk