#some parts were so amusing i actually recorded a clip and sent it to my friend. im falling to my knees in shock

[gertritude]

watching a playthrough of "the quarry" and so far it's kind of amazing how much better this is than until dawn

#all of the characters are........ actually really likeable????????????????????? whats happening #some parts were so amusing i actually recorded a clip and sent it to my friend. im falling to my knees in shock #here's to hoping the monsters remain just weird werewolves and are not questionably taken from a group's folklore!

[luxshine]

Y yo a ti, Cas -segunda parte. Because of course Mexican Cas pulled us out of despair and can throw us back in.

Ok, so the last 24 hours have been a bit of a rollercoaster and now I have another post to write about how dubbing is made. Because I love Misha a lot, and I respect him but… the whole rouge translator thing just doesn’t jive with reality.

Now, first of all I want to make a disclaimer: I do not believe that there’s a conspiracy to keep Dean closeted and away from Castiel. That makes absolutely no sense, no matter how you slice it. Among other things, conspiracy implies intent, and I really doubt the CW, Warner Bros and everyone involved in the marketing choices cares that much. At most, I think that there was a misunderstanding of marketing/PR and now people are doubling down on trying to pretend it didn’t happen. But a conspiracy? Nope. This isn’t THAT important, and it would require a LOT of people involved to make things work.

Which is precisely why the rouge translator thing doesn’t work. Because you would need a conspiracy to MAKE Destiel canon in order for it to be real.

Second: As I write this, I still don’t have an answer from the voice actors. But rest assured, WHEN they reply (or we can organize a panel so YOU guys can ask directly), I will tell you the absolute truth. If I am wrong with my assumptions, and it WAS a rouge translator, I will let you know, and I will admit I was wrong. And if it was from the audio (say, a Jensen adlib) or the actual script? I will also let you know.

Third: I don’t doubt that Misha REALLY believes the rogue translator thing, if it was told to him by TPTB. There’s no reason to believe he knows how dubbing works in Mexico, nor how many people check the final product. Or that he even watched the episode, instead of believing it was a fan clip. Also, I respect him immensely and I don’t want any hate send his way.

That said, let’s go into how dubbing works, again.

For the sake of argument, I will start with the idea that yes, there was a “Rogue translator” who decided that THIS was the perfect moment to make Destiel canon. Not, say, Season 8 when he could have translated an “I need you” from Dean into an “I love you” when the god tablet thing happened, not in season 12, or during the purgatory prayers. No, the best moment was two episodes before the finale, when he had to know that Cas was not coming back. 

And yes, the translator knew Cas was not coming back because when we translate series, we get them in packages of 5 episodes or more at the time. So they must have had 15x16 to 15x21 (The interview special) all together. So they knew that this was Cas’s exit from the series.

Now, in my previous post I said how in the old times, we used vhs tapes and paper copies of the shooting scripts (when they were available that was not always). Now a days, we get the video file and a word document (if we’re lucky. If not, we make the word file). Translate everything. Go through it AGAIN to make sure the lip sync matches and that we don’t have huge speeches when there’s a small window of time to say the speech because of the language differences. Check that we didn’t accidentally used a slang word that only Mexico would understand. If the show is not PG-13, make sure our swearwords are not too bad or too localized. THEN we send it to the studio, which prints about four copies of the script and hands it,and the video, to the Dub director.

The dub director then goes and re-watches every episode, while checking the script. Some directors don’t speak the language, so they’re just checking cadence, time, and the damned lip sync. (And if you, as a translator, don’t match the lip sync? You are either back to training or out of a word if you get too many strikes). So sure, you could slip a change of line there, IF the director doesn’t speak German, or Japanese, or Hindi.

But almost every single dub director speaks English. So a change from “Don’t do this, Cas” to “And I, you, Cas” would be noticed then and there, and changed to the right line. Which means that, for the rogue translator thing to work, we’d have to add also a rogue dub director.

And honestly, do you see a professional dub director with more than 15 years of experience (because you don’t give a series to a newbie, and Supernatural had the same dub director for all it’s run) risking his job for ONE line?

Anyway, in the times before the plague dub actors were called in groups to the study to record, in order to save audio tracks. So, for example, all the Inner Senshi would record together when doing Sailor Moon, and I assume in Supernatural, Sam and Dean’s lines would also be recorded together, while Dean and Cas might have been or not. Depending on times and so on. So you’d had at least 3 people in the studio: Dean’s VA, the dub director and the sound technician. ALL of them checking what was being said, what was in the script, and listening to the original audio.

Some actors would also make corrections to the script there, making some lines easier to read, and, again, checking those damn lip letters (Can you tell I HATE the lip letter thing?) . I remember fondly the VA for Sailor Jupiter, Araceli de Leon (RIP), who was known as “The Corrector”, since she would go through ALL the scripts for everyone with a red pen. The day I handed a script she didn’t find any corrections, I was jumping out of joy. So if 15x18 was recorded AT the dubbing studio? Someone who knew English could’ve caught the difference between the “Don’t do this” and the “And I you”, making it harder for our rogue translator to go unnoticed.

But let’s say it was recorded post-quarantine, when voice actors work alone at home, in their own private sound studios. I have no idea if they would have the director at hand through zoom, but I assume so. In any case, the VA would STILL have the original audio to know how the lines were said, and after 4 years of dubbing Dean Winchester, I will assume that the VA knows at the very least a little bit of English so if his script said “And I, you Cas” but he heard Jensen say “Don’t do it, Cas”, he would’ve made a correction there.

That’s now two people who would have to ignore the rouge translator’s actions, and even help them, in order for this theory to work.

And then the audio goes back to the director, who checks it again, makes sure it is lip synced and well acted, and sent to the audio technician who mixes it all, and now we have a THIRD person who could’ve said “Hey… uhm… this line? Is not what it says in the original” and by this time, we’d have to have a conspiracy to keep that “And I, you, Cas” in the final product.

Which brings me to person number four: Once the dubbing is done? It’s reviewed by the client (In this case, WB Latam), who gives the final say and CAN ask for redubs if necessary.

Story time. When I was doing this for a living, I got a series that had the WEIRDEST line ever. A line that made me triple check I was hearing things right (because it was a damn adlib that I couldn’t check with the script)

It was: “I’ve been listening to jazz even since I was a sperm swimming in my father’s testicles”.

So yeah.

I was a pro, so I didn’t censor it or change it and send it as it was to the director. Who OF COURSE called me and asked “Are you 100% sure that’s the line?” (This was in Japanese, and he didn’t speak Japanese. He trusted me). And I said “yeah, but if you need to change it, we can find another way to say “I’ve been a Jazz fan since before I was born”. “ He, Jack bless him, said “Nah. If that’s the original, let’s keep the original”.

The client was NOT amused and we had to change it in the final product.

Now, this was a throw away line by a secondary character that never appeared again in the series, in a small scene that probably only I remember. And the client still said “Nope, change that”. I’d like to believe that a line that changes the relationship between two main characters would have the same, if not more, scrutiny from TPTB.

Which makes now four people who would have had to either ignore the actions of the rogue translator, or actively participate in a conspiracy to make Destiel Latam canon.

Which, I dunno about you, sounds like way too much effort for something that was going to last for exactly one second before Cas got sucked into the Empty.

Someone made a mistake? Probably. But I am more willing to bet it was whoever sent the master video file to the studio than the dub studio, if that line wasn’t supposed to be there.

#Supernatural mexican dubbing #dean winchester is bilingual #dean winchester loves cas #they silenced you #mexican cas is a rogue translator #the character not the va #dubbing #the Winchester hermanos

[mrsbarnes107]

Secret of the Widow

-part five-

Summary: Post Endgame time period. The team is healing, trying to navigate this new normal they’ve found themselves in when Bucky and Sam bring home a stray with an attitude and a secret. Will the broken team take her in? Or is it too much to bare?

Warnings: language, *eventual* violence and smut, death, fluff, angst

Pairings: Bucky x OC

Disclaimer: this is posted to Wattpad as well and it WILL HAVE PLOT. I’m a Bucky hoe so there will be smut and romancy stuff but this is a series, so plot plot plot.

(Double post ahhh who is she 😂)

I hummed softly as the room stared at me questioningly. "When I said I was twenty-six, it would have been more accurate to say twenty-six years with a twenty-one body." I shrugged and looked to Peter. "At least we stay young and beautiful a little longer. The fact that this dude has been getting away with it for 80 years astounds me." I say as I nod my head towards Bucky, seeing him try to hide a smirk, the first real emotion he's shown since finding me.

Fury shakes his head at me and clears his throat loudly again.

"You know Nicky, you should really get that checked out." I throw over my shoulder, interrupting him. "Anyways long story short, Natasha set the date to meet me and bring me here and the next week steroid Barney snapped his sausage fingers and poof. She lost me again and spent five years trying to find a way to get me, and the rest of civilization, back." I tilted my chin up and flitted my eyes to each person. "We all know what happened after that. Fury and I decided you all-"a pointed look at Clint and Banner "-needed time to heal, throwing her daughter at you after that would have derailed everything. So we waited. I went after bad guys. Nicky fussed like a mother hen when I didn't report in. The year passed."

Fury scoffs behind me as the group looks on in somber amusement.

For the first time since the start of the meeting, Bucky speaks up. "Fury said you got caught quicker than he anticipated." It wasn't a question but the tilt of his head made it sound like one.

"When I got intel on the attack I told Nicky I was going to evacuate and clean house. But after I cleared the civilians, he got word you a Fly Boy were on the way. We decided it was as good a time as any so I went to wait you out. The plan wasn't to actually get tackled and cuffed, but apparently I look threatening enough to warrant it." I chuckled at the look of annoyance on Buckys face.

"You almost killed me, just for the record. The cuffs were very necessary."

I hid a smirk before replying. "Hm yes I seem to remember hearing something about my deadly thighs back on the jet." I chuckle at the look of disdain on Fury's face directed at Barnes. "I wasn't actually suffocating you though Sargent, trust me, you'd know if I was." I shot him a wink just for the pleasure of seeing Fury's eye twitching, Bucky and Peters matching blushes, and Wandas barely concealed snort.

•••

The room soon fell back into silence, so Fury sent everyone away, save for Wanda who stood by the door and waited.

"You gonna be okay kid? If these misfits give you trouble just let me know." Fury gave you an amused look, but he couldn't quite hide the concern deep in his eyes.

I finally was able to stand and tackle him in a hug, now that most the team was gone. "Nicky I'll be okay, it's them accepting me that worries me. It might be too hard for some."

"Kiddo, I think your presence here will help them more than you know." With that he gave me a final hug, strutting out the door with a clipped nod to Wanda.

"Fury wanted me to show you to your room, would you be up for a tour of the tower with me before you settle in?" She gave me a kind smile and held out her arm.

I walked over and linked our arms, giving her shoulder a small nudge. "I'd love a tour, Tony was never able to show my the Avenger lair, I was mostly in the labs with him... and thanks, for keeping it cool in there."

She starting leading me towards the elevator, a mischievous look on her face. "It's nice having another girl around, I've been stuck with far too much testosterone lately. We gotta stick together right?" With a chuckle she dragged me through the top floors of the tower, explaining the rooms and where everything was.

"The gym has practice rooms connected to it, some are shielded for practice with more dangerous powers, others have fighting simulators, and there's the shooting range on the other end of the hall. If you want to go for a swim that's on the top floor with a retractable roof for the warmer days."

"And this, little Ali, is your room." She gave the door a push and welcomed me into my new home.

The walls were bare, but there was a massive bed, and apparently a walk in closet connected to the fancy bathroom. Hm I could definitely do with this.

"Bucky and I are on this floor, the others are right below us. We all share the kitchen down the hall and the living room though, so you'll be seeing, and definitely hearing, them quite a lot."

Fury had my clothes and few random belongings brought up during the tour, so I began unpacking, trying to make this a home again. Albeit a slightly emptier one.

"Thank you for the tour Wanda."

"No problem, tomorrow we can go out and get you some more stuff for your room, cause that is not enough clothes girl." With that she walked out the room with a parting wave and a yell through the door. "Dinner in an hour!"

Alone at last, I fall to the bed.

Today was filled with far, far too much sharing and it was exhausting. With the nagging feeling that I wasn't done with my heart to hearts with the team, I made my way to a well deserved scalding shower before dinner.

#avengers #avengers fic #black widow #bucky barnes #bucky barns fanfiction #captain america #endgame #marvel #spiderman #the falcon #enemies to lovers #bucky x oc #iron man #thor #tony stark #wanda maximoff

[angst-fairygodmother]

I loved your latest SVU Carisi fic! I would love something with Barba, please! Maybe something where he asks a coworker (either a detective or someone from the ME's office) to an event, either because he's lonely or embarrassed to go alone again.

A/N: Can I just say, I appreciate how general these prompts are for SVU because they really give me the room to go where the whim takes me? Because I do (not that I don’t love prompt lists, but this style just works for me with this fandom). I hope you enjoy the direction that this one ended up. Also, I watched several Barba episodes and a bunch of clips for “research” and that was a hole I was not planning to end up back in, but I still love him, apparently. Not quite as much as the first time around, but enough. Word Count: 2804 Tagging: @writefasttalkevenfaster

“Mr. Barba! What brings you to my dark little dungeon corner of the world?” you asked, smiling brightly as the ADA strolled into the morgue like it was Central Park at noon.

“Y/N, please. How many times do I have to tell you to call me Rafael, or at least drop the ‘Mr.’ We’ve seen each other’s worst, there’s no need to be so formal,” he said, returning your smile with a small one of his own and a rueful shake of his head.

It was true that you and Rafael had known each other for years, since your school days when your stubborn and shameless self had wormed your way into the DA’s office, allegedly as part of a research project for school (a story that didn’t hold up when you never left). And he, still a young, brash ADA (not that the brash part had changed or ever would), had largely been stuck dealing with you as you poked through records and cases and pointed out all the places that they could have done better with handling the forensics of things. They never chased you out, because it came in handy over time and you had a charm that made your Nancy Drew nosiness, as he had nicknamed it, more amusing than annoying. By the time you had graduated, you were practically a part of the inner circle at that office, and it was easy to leverage that (along with your shining grades of course) into a prime position as a medical examiner.

Of course, the most valuable thing you had gotten out of all of it was still the friendship of Rafael Barba. He’d encouraged you through exams and romantic breakups and personal stresses without blinking and you’d done as much of the same for him as you could. He’d poured your inebriated ass into more taxies than you could count and sent you just as many hangover-cure breakfast deliveries. You’d laughed together, cried together, held each other up when the world seemed to be trying to crush you.

And still, at work at least, you insisted on calling him “Mr. Barba.”

“We have, but you’re also the one who talks about the need to keep professional lives separate.” You shrugged with a smirk. “Besides, it amuses you how much me calling you ‘Mr. Barba’ makes you squirm.”

He rolled his eyes. “I brought lunch.” He held up a familiar paper bag, no doubt containing sandwiches and raspberry turnovers from your favorite diner.

“Not dignifying me with a proper response I see,” you teased. “And bringing me food. Either I’m in trouble or you’re trying to bribe me for a favor. I hope it’s the first one, it’s always more fun.”

Your smirk widened and you waggled your eyebrows at him, waving him over into the little lounge area outside your office and pouring two paper cups of tepid coffee. He silently passed you your sandwich, hoping that you didn’t notice the light blush creeping up around his ears, or his quick intake of breath as you bit into it and moaned involuntarily. You both chewed in silence for a while, and you tried to just enjoy his company, as you usually did. But there was a strange tension in the air, unsettling the comfort of the silence and putting you on edge as you waited for whatever he came to talk to you about.

“Alex and Yelina’s tenth anniversary is coming up,” he said finally, trying to hide the strain in his voice, even though he knew you knew him well enough to notice it anyway.

You nodded silently, a sympathetic grimace on your face. You knew how much it had stung to him to attend the wedding and watch his childhood best friend marry his first love.

“They’re having a charity gala to celebrate. And personally invited me to go.”

You sucked in a hiss through your teeth. “Ouch.”

He nodded dejectedly. “I can’t say no to them. But I don’t know if I can get through the evening.”

“I could write you a doctor’s note. Fake some sort of illness preventing you from…I don’t know being in that large of a crowd or something?”

He laughed, and you smiled at the sound, knowing that it meant things weren’t quite as bad as they could be, and you didn’t need to break into your secret bourbon stash to fix them.

“Actually,” he said, buttoning his jacket and then immediately unbuttoning it again, as you often saw him do before a particularly difficult argument in court. “I was hoping you’d come with me, as my plus one. It’d really help to have a friendly face that I know can hold their own against the vultures.”

You sat in stunned silence for several minutes, staring at him. Your mind raced. Had he just asked you on a date? And if so, did you want to say yes?

When you didn’t answer, he shifted awkwardly, clearing his throat to get your attention. You jumped, startled out of your thoughts by the noise.

“I don’t want to impose; you were the first person I thought of. I know it’s not really your scene. I shouldn’t have asked,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, as if to tell you to forget the whole thing.

“Oh. Sorry, it took me a minute. I guess I just didn’t expect it. I thought you’d ask Olivia or someone, you know. I’d be happy to go with you though. I’d love to, really,” you started at the same time, leading the two of you to be talking over each other like fools.

You both stopped, you trailing off more than his abrupt end, and then you locked eyes and you giggled. After a few seconds of delay, he joined your laughter and soon, there were tears in your eyes and he seemed to be struggling for breath as you took absolute joy in the ridiculousness of it.

“Honestly Raf, I don’t know why you even questioned it,” you said when you had gotten yourself under control again. “Of course I’ll go with you. What else are best friends for?”

“Oh thank god,” he breathed, relief evident on his face.

“So how fancy are we talking? Am I going to need formal wear, or will a nice cocktail dress that covers all the bits be enough?” your eyebrows wiggled again and he chuckled.

~

The night of the event, you were just putting the finishing touches on your appearance – making sure everything was perfect down to every hair in the right place, but not like you tried too hard, wanting to seem like this was not as big of a deal as you had slowly worked yourself up into thinking it might be – when a knock on your door alerted you to Rafael’s arrival. When you answered, you were momentarily stunned, a tux shouldn’t seem all that different than his usual three-piece suits, and yet…

Luckily, he seemed just as thrown off by your appearance, and the pair of you just stared at each other.

Finally, you broke the spell, gesturing lamely behind you. “I just have to uh, grab my bag, and then I’ll be good to go.” You tried to smile at him, but you were pretty sure it came off as more of a discomforted grimace.

And why shouldn’t you be discomforted? All this time, there had never been anything between you (though you would be the first to admit that you had found him attractive when the two of you met). And now, suddenly, you couldn’t look at him without feeling that fizzy, almost nauseous twist in your gut, the flutter of your pulse at the sight of his smile, the overwhelming desire to absolutely wreck his perfectly styled hair and pressed lapel as you pulled him close and ran your hands over every inch of him in a sensuous war for dominance. You tried to tell yourself it was just the occasion, the fact that he had asked you to be his guest to an event that clearly meant a lot to him, and that it really meant nothing. If you could maintain the lie for long enough, you pretended to believe, everything would go back to normal.

The car ride over to the event hall was short, the time filled with a primer on the various important people (both politically and to him) that would be at the party. Most of it was information you already knew, but still, you let him talk, knowing that it made him feel calmer. And then you were linking arms with him, hand delicately wrapped around the fold of his elbow and walking through the grand arching doorway.

“Thus, into hell,” you muttered too low for even him to hear, forcing a smile.

Introductions were made, hands were shook, the air next to cheeks were kissed. You had not yet met the couple of the hour, but you felt like you had met the entire rest of their world, dragged into mind-numbing small talk about stocks and board meetings, policies and constituents (where they were numbers and dollar signs and goals rather than people). At some point, you were separated from Rafael by some women who were absolutely determined to drag you into their conversation about some community center building charity and the related press benefits of visiting the construction site. They all flinched and tittered uncomfortably when you pointed out that their manicures would get ruined and they’d just be interrupting the professionals actually doing the work and wouldn’t it be better to just do a ribbon-cutting photo op when the project was over?

Finally, you managed to extricate yourself and found Rafael by the bar, sucking down a bourbon like no one’s business. He turned to the bartender as you approached and already had a vodka soda waiting when you reached him.

“My hero,” you said taking a deep drink. “Don’t ever leave me alone with those people again.”

“That bad?” he asked, eyes dancing as he smiled at you over the rim of his glass.

“I think I felt my soul exit my body. Twice. Why are you drinking so heavily already?”

“Alex and Yelina just arrived. I managed to duck them, but not before I got to bear witness to the whole…loving couple photo op.”

“Oh. I’m sorry Raf. Still, if they’re here, we should go say our hellos. The sooner we do the sooner we can blow this popsicle stand, yeah?”

He grimaced and finished his drink. “I suppose you’re right.”

He turned to walk away and you tugged him back to face you.

“Wait, here,” you said, reaching up to fiddle with his bow tie, fingers skimming his throat in the process and you swore you felt him flinch at the contact. “You were crooked,” you explained.

~

“Rafael!” Yelina said, smiling brightly and pulling him in for a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, you know that,” he said, smiling at her in a way that made a soft twinge in your chest that you tried to pretend wasn’t jealousy.

“Congratulations, both of you,” he said, patting Alex on the shoulder.

“And who is this?” another woman in the crowd, who you thought had been introduced as the wife of some other senator but you hadn’t been paying that much attention, said, gesturing to you. “I mean I know this party is doubling as a charity gala, but you didn’t need to bring an example case.”

“Excuse me?” you snapped, glaring at her.

“Oh you know what I mean darling. It’s not an insult, just stating facts that you obviously don’t belong. It’s little signs, you really do look…fine. But the hair, the clearance rack clothes, and when is the last time you had your nails done?”

“Y/N is one of the most brilliant medical professionals in New York City,” Rafael cut in before you could respond, curling his arm protectively around your waist. “And not that it’s any measure of character, looks fantastic by the way. But it’s an organic, genuine beauty so it’s no surprise that you don’t see it Mrs. Johnsville. After all, you haven’t seen your own genuine appearance in, I’d guess twenty years? Or maybe it’s jealousy causing you to say such spiteful things to the most incredible person in the room. Either way, I’d suggest you stop, before someone brings up your husband’s scandals and causes a scene.”

You turned your head to stare at him, lost for words. There was a not-so-subtle threat in his words, but that didn’t matter to you in light of the things he was saying about you, or the adoring way he said them.

He turned back to his old friends. “Alex, Yelina, I hate to do this, but I’m not going to stand around and let someone insult my date that way. So we’re leaving, but maybe we can get dinner sometime soon and catch up.”

“Of course, Rafi,” Alejandro said, his polite political host smile edging its way toward a smirk. “The four of us will have to do that.”

~

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Rafael said, sighing as you both sat in the car. “She had no right to speak to you that way. I…”

“Stop, Raf. It’s not your fault. And you jumped in like a knight in shining armor, no harm done.”

“Are you sure?”

“I mean, I’m a little disappointed that I got all dressed up for you and I didn’t even get to dance…” you stuck your lower lip out in an exaggerated pout that made him laugh. “But I’m sure you’ll make it up to me somehow.”

“And for having dinner with Alex and Yelina and I. Assuming you’re willing to. Which I totally understand if you’re not.”

“I was wondering if you were going to bring up that invitation,” you laughed. “And of course I’m willing. I’ve told you before, and I’ll say it as many times as I have to to get it through your skull, I’ll do anything for you, Raf.”

Suddenly you had a brilliant idea and you looked over at him with a grin.

“Uh-oh, I know that look…”

“You know what’s better than dancing and wining and dining when you’re dressed to the nines?” you said, eyes aglow the longer you thought about it.

“What?”

“Being dressed to the nines to eat greasy diner burgers! Let’s go to Hank’s!” You grabbed the hand that rested on the center console in both of yours, pulling it close to you and batting your eyelashes pleadingly at him.

He groaned and shook his head. “Alright.”

~

“You know,” Rafael said, shifting nervously as he walked you to the door of your building. “There was a bit of a wreck in the middle, but all in all, this wasn’t such a bad first date.”

“Is that what this was?” you asked, heart skipping a beat as your both stopped on the steps.

“Would you be mad if I said yes?”

“A little. I mean, you could have told me sooner. I would have done way cuter shit all night.”

He laughed, looking at you softly. “I don’t need you to do cuter shit. You’re perfect the way you are.”

“See, shit like that,” you waved your hands around in frustration. “I don’t have a good comeback compliment for you because I wasn’t expecting it. You threw me off my game, charming bastard.”

“Y/N…”

“If this was a date, I believe a goodnight kiss is traditional,” you smiled.

He leaned in, close enough for you to smell the cologne he wore and the alcohol he’d had earlier and the spearmint breath mint he’d picked up from beside the diner’s register when he’d insisted on paying. His lips brushed lightly against yours but he quickly pulled away, just enough to look you in the eyes.

“You’d better not be calling that my kiss,” you teased.

“Are you sure about this, Y/N?”

Sighing in exasperation, you did as you’d imagined earlier and grabbed him by the lapels to tug him closer and press your lips to his. He sighed against your mouth, bringing one hand up to cup the back of your head gently and hold you closer, the other arm wrapping tightly around your waist. Your lips parted, opening up to him and your tongues danced together like it was what they were designed for.

Gasping for air, you both pulled away, and he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Thank you for tonight,” he whispered.

“Night’s not over, yet,” you answered with a shrug.

“What?”

The words felt inevitable, but right, as they worked their way through your throat.

“Do you want to come upstairs, Raf? We can watch a movie or…dance…”

#Law and Order: SVU #Rafael Barba x Reader #reader is a medical examiner #normally I love a fancy ball/dance/etc. trope #but I kind of wanted to go a little differently with this #I don't know...did I get his voice right? #I think I did...

[princess-kaulise]

Will I ever be on time? Probably not. @semie78 I was your santa for @codesecretsanta!

I hadn’t heard of Litalise before but writing for them was an interesting project! I hope you like it, and happy belated Christmas <3 Word Count: 1673

AO3

Lise had spent all day at the mall, searching high and low in hopes of finding a perfect present this close to the big day, from the big department stores to the smaller vintage stores to anything vaguely to do with music. But so far, all of her ideas had fallen through. One did not just buy something music related for a fellow musician without thought, but it felt like she had been thinking on this for weeks, well before December.

Yet, here she was; it was the day before Christmas and she didn’t have anything, not yet. For all that she had spent the last couple of months getting to know her fellow DJ, it felt like there was still so much she didn’t know. With a sigh, she traced along the spines of the CDs, whispering the names to herself, going over what she knew.

Aelita lived in a dorm, so even if she didn’t go with a CD, it couldn’t be something big. She liked a wide variety of musics, enough so that Lise almost suspected she hadn’t heard a lot of different kinds despite her talent. It would be hard to choose just one type of music, and with Lise’s luck she would find the one kind Aelita didn’t like...

Lise tapped herself on the head, trying to knock some sense into herself. Don’t just… Fretting wasn’t going to get her any closer to her goal of getting Aelita a gift.  She paced up and down the isle, trying to talk herself into something, to tell herself that it was good enough.

Frustrated, Lise decided to take a walk to get some water. She’d use the time to cool herself, and then she would be right back at it. A break would do her good, and maybe she’d come up with something better. More personalized. A break would do her wonders. 

Maybe she was barking up the wrong tree. Maybe she was just putting too much thought into this? Maybe Lise should just get a gift card, she had already wasted so much time on this, what could she possibly find.

As she walked, lost in thought, her arm clipped a display and knocked something off it. Oh no! 

She knelt down to pick up a long flat container and lifted it up to her eye level. It was a Vinyl from a couple decades ago.

“I hope I didn’t damage it,” She murmured, going to place it back on its display. As cool as vinyls are, what were the odds that she had any use for a record? Another time. She put it back, and almost left. But instead, she found herself stopping and turning back. Aelita lived in a dorm, and there wouldn’t be much room for personalization, and she had thrown out a lot of ideas earlier because of it possibly taking up too much space. But… Maybe she did have an idea after all. She grabbed a few of the old records, feeling a burst of inspiration. She just needed to run back to the department store, and see if she could grab something about the right size. Her idea was a little crazy maybe, but anything was possible with the internet, right?

Even if they had no way to be played, being able to be used in some other way was its own kind of respect. And Lise thought maybe Aelita would respect that too.

---

Lise hurried back to her house as fast as she could after collecting the last of the parts, giving a hurried greeting to her parents, before running up the stairs.  She removed her purchases from her bag carefully. A few records, a clock, a thing of colorful guitar picks, and glue. She tapped her cheek, before reaching over to power up her laptop. She would need to do a little bit of research.

While she was waiting for her laptop to boot, her phone buzzed.

Aelita: Are you really sure I can come over tomorrow?

Lise: Of course! I’m happy to have you over ^.^

Lise: Besides! No one should be alone on christmas! Aelita: I don’t want to take away from your time with family, is all…

Lise: Hush, it’s fine Lise: I think my parents are excited to have you over as me!

… Perhaps Lise had been talking about her present dilemma a lot lately. She wasn’t quite sure if they were excited that Lise was having someone over or that it would put an end to her panicking.

Aelita: Really?

Aelita: Well, I’m excited to spend time there then! Alright. Tomorrow was definitely on, and that meant that Lise needed to double down on this project. It was late into the night by the time Lise managed to get her idea to come to life. While she was cutting it painfully close to when she needed to be resting, it was done, and wrapped up carefully in pink paper. But… She had poured a lot of effort into this. Surely that was enough to make it go smoothly.

----

Despite her confidence, Lise found herself hovering anxiously around the door by the time that there was actually a knock on the door, she had brushed her hair and redone her pigtails at least 5 times, and checked over her present several more times, making sure the wrapping was immaculate. She thought that getting ready for an audition was nerve wrecking, but right now this was certainly coming close. Her parent’s knowing  looks weren’t helping either. Her phone buzzed with a text: “I’m on my way~!” It felt like after that time went by too slowly. She didn’t leave that far from Aelita’s school, so it wasn’t going to be a long trip, and yet-

A knock on the door snapped her out of her thoughts. Oh. Speaking of… She ran to pull open the door before either of her parents got to it, and was greeted by a smiling pink haired girl, caring both a purse and a sparkly giftbag. “Sorry I’m running late, Lise!” Lise has to stop herself from sounding like she’s stumbling over her words. “Nonono, it’s fine, You’re just in time! Mom is just finishing up dinner in a little bit anyways.” “Let the girl in, Lise!” her mother shouted from the kitchen. Why was she sounding so amused by this?

“Right, Right.” Lise stepped aside to let Aelita in. Aelita smiled at her before peeking her head in the kitchen to greet Lise’s mother. There was some talking Lise couldn’t hear clearly, but then Aelita nodded and came back to Lise. “Can we go up to your room?” She asked. “I got something for you, Lise.” Aelita got something for her too? Why was she surprised; that shouldn’t be surprising, really. It’s what you did at christmas- Focus Lise! “Of course! Right this way!” The two of them ran up the stairs into Lise’s room, and while Lise went to turn on the lights strung along the walls of the room, Aelita sent her personal bag down gently by the door. “It’s like stepping into a dream…” Aelita said, looking around at the fairy lights. She let herself get lost in the lights as she came to sit down on the bed with the gift bag. She snapped to attention as the bed shifted as Lise sat down next to her.

“I know, right? It’s why they’re up.” She nodded.  Lise reached over to grab the wrapped box off of her desk, and  placed it on the bed. “My parents and I already did presents, so we can do ours up here in private if you want.”

“Oh really?”  Aelita shifted, lighting up, and reached over to place the bag in Lise’s lap. “I hope you like it!”  (Why did Aelita saying her name have to make her heart flutter like that?)

She reached into the gift bag, pulling out the the tissue paper and revealing a book and a bunch of assorted accessories. The book looked like it was on the history of music equipment, and it was a little nerdy, but it’d also be an interesting read! And all the accessories were really cute too… She picked through the accessories, taking them out and placing them on top of the book next to her. “I’m sorry, I may have gotten a little carried away,” Aelita admitted, looking at all the small things Lise was pulling out. “Nono, it’s fine! It’s wonderful, Aelita! Thank you!” Impulsively, she reached out to give the pink haired girl a warm hug. “Oh!” Aelita seemed surprised, but still Lise felt her hug back, so it was fine, right? “You still have your gift,” Lise said after a moment, pulling away. She slid the wrapped box, over to Aelita. “The wrapping is so cute! I almost don’t want to open it!” Lise felt a small burst of pride. She worked hard on making it presentable. Aelita was gentle with the wrapping, pulling the ribbon loose and off in one smoothe motion.  And she was equally as careful with the paper itself, folding it up and setting it aside. She opened the box, and gasped, lifting out the present. Lise had taken the records she had found at the store, and the mechanism from a cheap clock and managed to layer the records over the needle the mechanism and fit the needles back on, and colorful guitar picks were glued in place of the numbers.

It had taken a decent amount of desperate googling the night before, but Lise thought it came out well enough. But Aelita wasn’t saying anything yet; did she not like it…? “Did you make this, Lise?” She asked, but her eyes were still glued to the homemade clock?

“Yeah, I did. I thought you might like to put it in your d-” Aelita had put it aside, and that was only warning Lise got before the hug was  turned on her.

Yeah. Yeah, maybe this exchange had gone pretty well after all.

#code secret santa #code lyoko #code lyoko aelita #code lyoko lise #kaula does writing

[darnloveablecharacters]

Universal, Part Two: Battle in the Skies

Series Summary: Simply a multi-part, self indulgent reader insert with John Wick universe kinda plumbed in. Fair warning…. SLOWWW BURN. Ignore canon and timing and crap, that’s not important….  Gifs and recognizable characters are not mine, but the story and all of the mistakes are!

The Universal - Masterlist

Chapter Notes: Good news, I actually have the story written out and it’s only a few more kinda long chapters. I thought about breaking them up more but.... flow and such. I also have an epilogue in mind but, I’m debating. We’ll see how this goes :) As always, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I’ve enjoyed dumping this all out of my brain!

Warnings for this chapter: Terrible descriptions sky battles, kind-of adulty content? <-- you have to squint a bit for that one

It had been too long. Their search for the Sith had proven completely fruitless as they could find no trace of her. If anyone knew who she was, they didn’t share the information. Even Jocasta Nu came up empty in her search of the records. The council was forced to call them back and send them on a new assignment.

They had received an anonymous tip that a transport of goods would be attacked. The Jedi were to join a group of local fighters to ensure the transport arrived safely to its destination.

Anakin let out an exasperated sigh causing Obi Wan to smile. “Patience Anakin,” He said, glancing through the window toward Anakin’s fighter. “I know we have not had much success, but I also know that we will meet her again.”

He couldn’t see it, but he knew Anakin rolled his eyes. “No offense Master, but I can tell you’re frustrated as well.” Anakin said knowingly.

“I am, but we can not allow it to distract us from our current mission.” He simply replied. Ironically, he couldn’t stop himself from reflecting on the encounter again.

Y/N had continued attacking in the same way. One minute there was a voice, then a flurry of red light, and the next complete darkness. Obi Wan was growing tired, he had never faced an adversary such as this. He switched off his lightsaber and closed his eyes taking a deep breath, trying to regain his focus. He would have to try something different.

“Are you trying to strategize now?” She laughed.

Her voice seemed to be coming from his left. That’s it! Obi Wan suddenly thought. She was somehow able to change where her voice was coming from to throw off his balance. “Just biding my time really, wondering if you were planning to actually duel me or if you planned to continue playing games.”

The attack came from his right, and he was ready. He switched on his lightsaber and caught hers in the high guard and was finally able to push forward with his own attack. This time, she was forced to defend but he knew it was only a matter of time before the red saber would be extinguished and she would be gone. He needed to act quickly. Knowing it was a highly risky move, he grabbed her wrist that was holding onto the saber and rolled hoping that she would be caught off guard and he would be able to end the fight.

He was wrong again.

Both lightsabers clattered out of reach as they tumbled to the ground. Just as Obi Wan scrambled to pin her, she rolled them again and used the Force to hold him down while straddling him. Obi Wan strained against it but her hold was too strong. He couldn’t stop the groan of frustration from escaping him as they both lay there catching their breath. Where are you Anakin?”

He was jerked back out of the memory when he felt a dark surge rippling through the Force.

“Master…” Anakin’s voice said with a mixture of trepidation and excitement.

“I feel it also, she is here.” He said, scanning the skies.

“This time, we have the advantage. We’re together and she’ll be no match for me as a pilot!”

“Concentrate Padawan, do not allow your overconfidence to blind you.” Obi Wan warned.

“Gunships, coming in!” The pilot of the transport exclaimed.

“Blue squadron, take defensive positions around the transport. Red squadron, on me. We’re going to beat them back!” Anakin called out to the other fighters as the gunships screamed toward them from the front in tight formation.

They came in three waves. The local fighters that were with them did well under Anakin’s command, they had been able to take out the gunships easily. Each wave took them farther away from the transport which was what Anakin had hoped for. Better to keep the battle away from what they were protecting.

A victorious cheer went up from the pilots as the last gunship was destroyed, but Obi Wan felt uneasy. They had lost sight of the transport and he could feel that the Sith had not been in any of the attacking ships. “Anakin, we have to get back to the transport quickly. Something is wrong.”

They turned the fighters around and sped back to where the transport had been. They arrived just in time to see two more squadrons of gunships catching the defensive team in a pincer movement, one of the squadrons was led by a sleek black fighter. Obi Wan knew it was her, but the knowledge didn’t comfort him as they were too late. The Jedi watched helplessly as they opened fire on the flanking defenders and one-by-one, they were forced out of the air. The shields to the transport appeared to hold up, but just barely.

The squadrons passed over the transport, but instead of turning in for a second pass the formations broke into a combat spread. They headed directly for the Jedi and their small attack fleet.

“Evasive maneuvers!” Anakin cried as the enemy ships opened fire. The fleet scattered and soon the skies were littered with explosions.

This battle was tougher, they simply didn’t have the numbers and even for every few gunships they took down they lost a fighter. The Sith’s ship weaved in and out of firing range gracefully, and Obi Wan was certain that every ship they lost had been taken down with her attacks. Of course she’s an accomplished pilot too. Obi Wan thought bitterly.

Finally, the only fighters left in the air were the two Jedi and the Sith. She was following Anakin and closing in, and Obi Wan was even further behind them.

“Did you miss me, Master Kenobi?” The sickly sweet voice said over his comms.

“I have not had time to think about you, Lady Y/L/N.” Obi Wan lied as he saw Anakin’s ship suddenly flip and race toward her, head-on. What in the name of the Maker are you doing Anakin?

She laughed musically. “Come now Jedi, you can lie to your padawan but please don’t lie to me.”

Obi Wan tensed as he saw the ships were about to collide, but at the last moment they both turned right narrowly missing complete destruction. It wasn’t quite enough to avoid damage though as Anakin’s wing clipped hers and sent them both into a spiral.

“Anakin!” Obi Wan cried as he watched him fall dangerously close to the surface of the planet.

“I’m okay, Master.” Anakin finally responded as he regained control of his ship.

Obi Wan took a deep breath of relief as he searched again for the Sith’s ship. She had managed to regain control as well and was retreating. She was nearly out of the atmosphere when her voice came through again. “Your Padawan is insane, I like him.” She said cheerfully. “However, I’m more attached to my ship than him so I’m afraid this is farewell for now.”

“Leaving so soon? We have only just begun.” Obi Wan quipped.

He could almost feel her smile as she replied. “Don’t worry Master Jedi, we shall see each other again.”

He felt the exact moment when she left and he felt slightly dazed. He shook the feeling off and followed Anakin back to the transport that had somehow managed to survive the attack.

After landing, they ensured the transport was secure and listened as plans were made to search for surviving pilots. The Jedi would stay to help, but before they took off Obi Wan pulled Anakin to the side. “What were you thinking?” he demanded. “You could have gotten yourself killed!” Where he had expected Anakin to be upset at the outcome, he only found a wide smile on the young man’s face. Obi Wan narrowed his eyes at him and asked. “Why are you smiling?”

“When our ships connected, it was just enough time for R2 to plant a homing device on hers.” Anakin said, patting the droid affectionately.

Obi Wans eyes widened in surprise as he looked between the droid and a smug Anakin. “Oh, well that was actually a good idea.” He said rubbing his beard thoughtfully. “It was still reckless, do not do it again.”

Anakin nodded, still smirking, and waited for his Master to gather himself.

“Right, where are we headed?” Obi Wan finally said with an amused expression, addressing R2 who trilled happily.

Author’s Note: I’m actually deep in Obi Wan hell right now. Freaking Ewan McGregor with his freaking hotness. I blame Dr. Sleep.... I was fine but then I watched that movie about a month ago and remembered. *sigh* On a side note, I have another angsty Obi Wan fic in mind but I’ll finish this one before really working on that one. (Okay so it’s also mostly written but has A LOT of fine tuning to be done... not that my editing is superb but I do have SOME standards...) Love y’all, stay thirsty my friends!

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan x sith!reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan imagine #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi x reader

[viceprints]

TITLE: Let’s Talk About Love SUMMARY: Ji and Kane answer questions about idols dating life on their podcast “Vice After Dark”. They almost let some information slip about one of the members having a relationship with their photographer... GENRE: comedy(?), friendship. PAIRING: Platonic! Kane + Ji WORD COUNT: 1.7k WARNINGS: none

FEBRUARY, 2014

"Honey, I’m home!” Ji cheered into the air, reclining his chair back so his body angled towards the ceiling. He snapped himself forward, adjusting his headphones. “It’s been too long since our last Vice After Dark episode.”

“I’ve missed our Virtues and listeners. I felt so disconnected from them during After Dark’s hiatus.” Kane added, adjusting his microphone stand.

“But we’ve been connecting with them a lot lately, huh?” Ji grinned. “Because of our promotions, we see Virtues nearly everyday. When do you think they’ll get sick of us?”  Kane pretended to think the question over. “Hm... I give it two more days. Once they’ve seen Minho’s abs once, they’ve seen them a thousand times.”  “Yeah... I feel that...” Ji sighed, looking down at his less-chiseled abdomen. Kane laughed, clapping his hands together. 

“Anyways, I’m Ji,” Ji introduced himself to the camera. “And I’m Kane.” Kane waved. “And this is episode 31 of Vice After Dark!” Ji cheered, pressing a firecracker sound affect on his soundboard, following by clapping, a car revving, and a clip of Minho yelling ‘booyah’. 

“I forgot you had that soundboard.” Kane frowned, shaking his head slightly in disapproval.  “Oh you did? Does this setting jog your memory?” Ji smirked before pressing a button, prompting a clip of Kane saying “oh my god” with a major voice crack at the word “god”. Kane shook his head with a small smile on his face all while, giving Ji an seething look.  “No? Let me try again.” Ji pressed the button one more time. Then he pressed it again. And again. And again until Kane finally kicked his group mate under the table. 

“Ouch!” Ji scooted his chair back. While Ji was distracted, Kane took over the direction of the episode. 

“Anyways, Virtues better want to hang out for a little more, because tonight's topics are...” Kane inhaled through his teeth. “Well they’re pretty saucy.”  “Oooh, tell ‘em how saucy, Kangdae.” Ji played along. “Let’s just say... We are very lucky that this is a night-time airing, otherwise this whole episode would be censored.” Kane grinned mischievously.  “Woah, woah,” Ji put his hands up as he laughed. “It’s not that vulgar, don’t be a tease.”

“Alright, alright, it’s not that saucy, but maybe one day, who knows.” Kane shrugged. Ji shook his head and rolled his eyes.   “The day we have a saucy podcast episode, you’re getting replaced with Geonwu.” Ji said. Kane’s jaw dropped in offense. “What? Why?” The younger demanded. “Because what stories are you gonna tell? You’re gonna tell the audience about all the times you’ve made accidental eye contact with people at the airport?” Ji taunted. Kane glanced at the clock. “We’ve been recording for ten minutes and you already are causing problems...”

Ji laughed, amused at how annoyed Kane looked. “You know, I could say some really exposing things about you and your personal life.” Kane threatened, pointing a finger at Ji accusingly. “I have seen some things, Joongji.” “Nah, man, save those stories for another time. I’m not ready to be kicked out of Vice just yet.” Ji shook his head. Kane’s smile widened as he shook his head, returning to his notes. 

“Anyways, I have done some research and I managed to find a collection of questions that fans have about idols dating. I thought it would be interesting if the two of us answered them. At least, to the best of our abilities.” Kane suggested. “In other words, I’ll be the one answering the questions and you’ll pretend like you have experiences to reflect on.” Ji said. Kane pushed back his seat and stood up quickly, pretending like he was going to attack Ji. Unfortunately, Kane’s headphones were still plugged in, and his cord yanked him back towards the microphone, causing Kane’s whole set up to skew. Ji started laughing hysterically as Kane struggled to adjust his equipment. When the idol was finally settled, he sighed heavily into the microphone.  “Let’s just start the segment already.” 

“Question 1: Is it hard to plan dates when you’re an idol?” Kane posed. 

“Yes and no.” Ji answered. Kane nodded in agreement.  “Like... If the two of us want to go out to eat somewhere, you have to be really careful. I’ve actually heard of some idols like... Renting out a part of the restaurant so they could have some privacy.”  “By ‘some idols’, do you mean yourself?” Kane teased. Ji chuckled. “Nah, I’d never dropped that much money on a date unless if she was like... my wife or something.”   “’Your wife or something’. Lovely wording.” Kane teased. “Who knew you were such a romantic?” “Shut up, you know what I meant. Like a long-term girlfriend. Someone special.” Ji defended himself. “Can I ask how much you have spent on a date?” Kane asked. “Uh...” Ji pivoted his chair back and forth, thinking deeply. “Probably almost 900,000 won?”  “Jesus.” Kane blinked in shock. “I think I’ve spent probably like... almost 300,000 won on a date.” “Wasn’t that what our bill came out to for dinner the other night?” Ji teased. Kane threw his head back and chuckled. “How many times do I have to tell you, Kangdae? Taking the group out for a meal doesn’t count as a date!” Ji slammed his fist onto the table, followed by him pressing a button that signaled a sound affect of someone yelling “Loser!”, which sent Kane into a fit of laughter. 

“We didn’t even fully answer the question,” Kane reeled the conversation back in. “My answer is it’s only hard if you want to go somewhere popular.” Ji finalized. “You have to do a little extra planning if you go that route. Otherwise, at-home dates or dates to unpopular places are pretty easy and can be really fun.”  “I think going to places like the beach or hiking is really simple and easy to plan.” Kane offered.   “Ooh, how sentimental.” Ji said in a high-pitched, teasing voice. 

“Question 2: Do idols actually use Inkigayo sandwiches to flirt?” Ji read the question. 

“Yes.” Kane nodded. “They do.” “Gotten any sandwiches this promotional period, Kangdae?” Ji teased. Kane shook his head. “Unfortunately not.” Kane sighed in disappointment.  “There’s always next comeback. You know,” Ji smirked. “When your trims not so clapped.”  “I hate you.” Kane laughed, smoothing down his bangs. “I really do.” 

“Maybe you should be the sandwich giver.” Ji suggested. “You can be like-” He pressed a button and the sound board, which played a slow, sensual instrumental track.  “Hey girl...” Ji dropped his voice into a greasy drawl, getting close to the microphone. Kane pressed a hand over his eyes in embarrassment, letting out a whiny laugh. “It’s me...” Ji continued. “Bowlcut Boy. Just give me a chance girl, I know level 1 English, and you are, how you say.. Beautiful.”  “Okay, enough, enough! We’re moving on!” Kane said, miming closing a directors slate. 

“Question 3: Have you ever made a move on an idol that you’ve labeled as your ideal type?” Kane read.

“See,” Ji shifted in his seat. “Idols have celebrity crushes in the way that everyone else has celebrity crushes. I think Tiffany Young is beautiful and talented, but I probably would never ask her out.”  “You’d be lucky if Tiffany even looked at you, let alone talk to you.” Kane teased, looking satisfied that he was able to drag his friend after all the heat he’s endured this episode. Ji’s tongue poked his cheek as he nodded and leaned back from the microphone, feigning offense.

“But, no, I think it’s important to highlight to fans that when an idol has an ‘ideal type’, it doesn’t mean that the person or the attributes that they list aren’t like... The be-all-end-all.” Kane stated seriously. Ji nodded in agreement, dropping his act. 

“Right. Ideal types are garbage and don’t mean jack-” Ji used a censor sound effect to punctuate his statement, looking quite pleased with himself.

“Yes, thank you for that, Joongji.” Kane shook his head, reaching for another question. 

“Question 4: How hard is it to meet people as an idol?” Kane asked.

Ji shrugged. “I mean like... Idols meet people everywhere. ISAC is usually the time people start exchanging contact information. Or at like music shows and award ceremonies. Anywhere. Even in our own company. Like makeup artists, stylists, stage crew...” Ji gave Kane a quick, knowing glance. “Photographers-”  “Oop.” Kane’s eyes went wide.  The two of them stared at each other, their lips pressed together in thin lines to prevent themselves from laughing out loud. “Uh, anyway...” Ji tried to carry on, but Kane was laughing too hard. Across from him, the maknae removed his headphones and turned down his microphone volume so he could laugh without ruining the audio.

When Kane came back, he immediately started doing some damage control.  “Sorry, sorry, it’s an inside joke. We’re not attracted to any of our staff members,”  Now it was Ji’s turn to laugh loudly. He started flailing his feet at the huge hint that Kane just gave, knowing damn well that it would soar over their listeners heads. Woodam was going to kill the both of them if he ever played this episode back. 

“Not that we don’t think our staff members aren’t desirable!” Kane joked. “HBH has the best looking staff ever.”  “Alright, this is just getting weird.” Ji shook his hand under his chin, indicating that it was time to wrap things up. “I say we sign off for now.” 

“Vice After Dark will go back to normal airing schedule this week, so be sure to tune in next week when we invite our friend Sunmi on to talk about her upcoming album.” Kane said the usual outro, smiling at the camera.

“Until next week,” Ji raised his hand in farewell. “I’m Ji,” “And I’m Kane,”  “And this has been another episode of Vice After Dark.” Ji concluded the episode. Ji pressed play on his soundboard and their title track played through the speakers as the episode closed out. 

Once they finished recording, Kane gave Ji an anxious look.  “Do you think I should tell Woodam that I almost exposed his relationship or...?” Kane asked. Ji shook his head. “Nah dude. We covered ourselves up decently. No one’s gonna suspect a thing.” 

#kumokocnet #peachykocnet #aeskocnet #kocsociety #kpop oc #kpop addition #oc addition #oc group #oc kpop group #fictional idol #fictional kpop #fake kpop group #fake kpop idol #fake kpop #kpop scenario #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #oc kpop #oc idol #oc kpop idol #kane.dev #ji.dev

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 138

“I just wanted to check in on you. See how things are going. I think it’s pretty telling that we’re still out in the field. I just… I don’t like being in the dark. Not when I can help.” 

Steve wasn’t exactly the person you were expecting to get a phone call from the following day, but it was a welcome change from all the other terrible nonsense going on. ...even if it was sort of in the same vein. “You’re doing better work out there. Is um… Manilla- nice?” Brain still a little scrambled in the early morning hours, especially after the events of the night prior. 

“Montenegro. And. Sure. It’s peaceful. I think we’re wasting our time here, though.” 

Way off. Not even remotely close. Oh well. It didn’t sound like he cared so much that you seemed to have no idea what the Avengers were doing. Or where they were, at the very least. You should have, for sure. But. Clearly you had other things going on. “I thought Bruce was waiting on a few more data points?” Trying to prove not only to him but to yourself that you were paying attention. That despite your pains right now you did care about your family. What they were doing. That was important, too. 

He sighed. “Sure. That’s what we’re being told. I just don’t think we’re making any progress.” 

“Emptying out Hydra bases is not what I would call making no progress, Steve.” 

“...you’re right. But it’s still not what we thought we’d be doing.” 

The air was heavy and tense. You didn’t know how to make this right for him. He wanted to come home. You couldn’t let him. It wasn’t time yet. “The next ping might be the right one. Just hang in there a little bit longer.” 

“...sure.” His discontent on the other end of the phone was abundantly clear. “I noticed you haven’t said anything about what’s going on over there, yet.” 

It was highly unlikely if you told him the truth that he’d come rushing back home. Still… you weighed your options very carefully before answering. Gathered all your thoughts and tried to make them cleanly cohesive. “It’s… we thought we had something. And we still might. But it’s not going the way I want.” 

“Seems like that’s going around.” You heard the amusement through his annoyed tone. “Look- I just… worry about you.” 

“I’m okay.” It did your heart good, at least, to know that nothing between you and Steve was irreparable. Not even someone controlling him into almost murdering you and then shoving him on the next jet out. 

“I doubt it.” The mood plummeted. “And I don’t think you’d tell me if you weren’t.” 

“The feeling’s mutual.” It hurt you, to hear him say that. But maybe he was right. You also knew you were, too. Maybe it would have been better to process what had happened between the two of you. There just hadn’t been time. And also… you still never got confirmation Steve had actually ever attended a single therapy session with Deja. “We’ll talk when it’s over.” 

“When’s that gonna be?” 

“I can only say soon. And hope it’s true.” 

“Yeah. Me, too.”

                                                      --- 

Though it would have been easy, and even nice to just do nothing and recover, a full day of radio silence from Jessica after all the other days of radio silence didn’t sit right with you. If Kilgrave had taken her at some point, you were sure he would have let you know. Then again… who knew. You certainly felt like you didn’t know anything about anything at this point. It was on Friday that you decided you’d had enough. 

So you called. And called. And called some more. 

Ten times in total. And she didn’t answer a single one. Which started to really knock at your anxiety pretty hard. Surely she would answer if she had her phone, right? Surely with such a grave situation she couldn’t be ignoring you, right? 

A text came in around eleven o’clock at night. Succinct and angry:

My hands are full. I don’t have time for you. 

What could you even say to that? It was probably too telling to be overtly angry with her. But at this point you had no idea what was going on. It was clear that was the way she wanted it. But that was interfering with your life greatly. And the lives of your teammates. 

You better find some. Because you’re wasting mine. 

Her response was quick and curt. Cute. 

You left it alone after that. Eventually you were going to have to go find her and have a nice long talk with her. You imagined she was trying to control this disaster every way she could. She still didn’t want you around, that was very much clear. You were beyond thinking it was because she thought you were a danger if Kilgrave got his hands on you. It probably had more to do with the reaction you’d had when realizing exactly why she was running so hard at this. 

But why did she get to do that and you didn’t? Another question she surely wouldn’t answer. 

                                                     ---

Slowly you were making a plan and a promise to yourself. You couldn’t be kept left in the dark like this forever. Eventually some progress had to be made. Whether or not that included dragging Jessica Jones unwillingly, kicking and screaming, that would be up to her. But if she didn’t get back to you by Monday, you’d go find her personally. She couldn’t keep avoiding you forever. You’d see to that. You had to. 

A late meeting on Sunday ran a little too long, especially when your attention started waning and a headache crept in. It made it hard to focus on what anyone was saying. Now was the worst time to appear flippant about Stark Industries’ Q2 plans. Your team had left without you for reasons that everyone believed had to do with you being the CEO you’d been hoisted up as. If you couldn’t maintain both worlds equally, both words would equally fall apart. One more thing to worry about. 

The sun was just setting as you stepped outside the restaurant the department heads had wanted to meet at (for the obvious purposes of eating at a plush restaurant and calling it a business expense, all part of the package). You hadn’t eaten much of anything, and perhaps unwisely sipped instead at a glass of wine that you’d never asked for. Mistakes you were paying for now as you stood out on the sidewalk, glancing at your watch. You’d quietly told Happy you thought the meeting would last another hour- and that was about… thirty-two minutes ago… if you called to tell him to come get you downtown now with the traffic- ...he was probably on his way anyway- 

Boozy migraine maths came to a complete halt when a sharp call of your name drew your attention back up to the present. A microphone was about five inches from your face, and a harsh shoulder light from a TV camera was making you nearly blind. “Christine Everhart. WHiH.” As always. When you least wanted or expected her. Which was always. 

“I know who you are.” What fresh hell was this. What had you done now? 

In her other hand as she popped her hip out she held out some photographs. Ones you briefly glanced at. “We’re live in five, so consider this a gift. These are pictures of a building reportedly destroyed by the Avengers in Slovakia two days ago. Multiple civilian deaths and casualties. Care to comment?” 

“Two days ago?” You really wished your confusion hadn’t come first. Wasn’t the team on a break? ...had they even been to Slovakia? 

“That’s right. And here you are dining at five star restaurants while your team murderers innocent people. Fooling the public while they go break borders for you. What do you have to say about that?” 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about-” “Seems like I have more of an idea than you.” 

This was not what you needed right now. But if you just took a breath, you were sure you could get through it. You’d throw down a harsh assessment and shift the blame until you could figure out what the hell she was talking about- 

At least that’s what you wanted to do. That’s what you should have done. But you no longer lived in a world that was fair. “Turn off your camera. Put it down.” A chipper English accent sent every muscle in your body so tight you thought you might snap.

In your ear LUNA buzzed. “Activating suit.” 

“Stop.” The word clutched in your throat. Christine was suddenly too confused by her cameraman simply obeying that order to even care about what you were going on about. 

“Ma’am?” LUNA seemed concerned, for about as much as an AI could. “Shall I call Mr. Stark?” 

“No. Just. Wait.” All clipped as your breath started falling a little bit short of full draws. 

It was so anticlimactic. You’d expected Kilgrave to walk out of the shadows on his next big reveal. Yet here… he was just strolling up the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, smile on his face. “Tear up those pictures. Destroy that recording- and any other evidence you had on this little Slovakia incident.” Putting his back to you, in clear defiance of what you could or might do to him. Clearly of the opinion you’d stand there and do nothing at all. 

...which is exactly what you were doing. Staring at him. Horrified. Confused. 

He leaned closer to Christine. “You’re going to go back to your little TV station and stop investigating this. Tell your boss it was all falsified. Now go. Leave.” 

The both of them put their heads down, turned around without a word, and then walked away and back into the van they’d probably been waiting in all afternoon. Then, just like that, they drove off. Leaving you and Kilgrave on the sidewalk alone- save for the swells of innocent people milling about. Watching. Watching the CEO of Stark Industries fend off a reporter- and now seemingly speaking with an old acquaintance. Once Christine’s van was completely out of sight he turned to you, smile growing. 

“Hello, puppy. I thought you and I might have a talk. I was getting tired of all the back and forth on the phone.” 

You had to clamp down on every single part of yourself. Jessica couldn’t be right. You couldn’t fall to pieces just standing in front of him. “What makes you think I won’t kill you right now?” 

He leaned in just enough to murmur, “There are people about, puppy. I don’t think that’d be very heroic of you.” His eyes never left yours. “Now- won’t you join me for a light dinner?” A question. He was asking you. Very pointedly so. 

“What are you doing?” He could have made off with you again. A second time. And you’d been so wholly unprepared- ...well, LUNA had tried to fix this for you. But you couldn’t just go full Lady Iron in broad daylight in front of Christine after she had just accused your team of murdering people on foreign soil. Even if she’d been told to go away. 

Easing back he gave a little shrug. “Seems to me that I’ve just done you a favor. So I’d like it if you returned the gesture.” 

“I could have handled that.” A useless point to be making, but your brain was scrambling. Trying desperately to keep yourself talking so that you didn’t crumble into a mess that was even easier for the taking. 

“I have no doubt. I do so love that sharp wit of yours. But I’m running on a tight schedule.” Still, when you didn’t budge, this little cute act of his dissolved just a little, his mouth thinning into a straight line with a tight twitch at the corner. “I’m being polite. Don’t make me ask again.” 

He wouldn’t. He’d tell you. And he was trying to make you come with him without commanding you to. But why? Reaching into your bag you pulled out your cell phone and made a call to the last person who was expected to see you. “Happy- I’m taking another meeting. It should be quick, but I’ll find my own way home afterwards.” 

“You sure? I don’t mind waiting.” 

“I’m sure. Take the rest of the night off, okay? It’s Sunday, I feel bad.” 

“...everything alright?” Damn him. You didn’t need this right now. 

You just needed him to let you protect him. “Everything’s fine. Leilani’s all worked up about R&D’s budget for Q2 so I wanted to give her a little more face time.” Work jargon would no doubt turn his brain off. 

And thankfully, “Oh. Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” 

“See you tomorrow, Happy.” What was the point of any of it, you wondered. Why set security for yourself if you were going to immediately trash all avenues of help? Maybe there was no point. Maybe the whole point of this was that it was all inevitable. “...where are we going?” Making no attempt to hide how dejected you were. 

He was getting his way. Again. And he hadn’t even needed powers to do it this time. Hearing this he perked right back up. “I know this delightful little teahouse a few blocks over.” 

You curled your hands into fists so tight the tremor snaked up through your entire arm. “Let’s go, then.” 

                                                     ---

He told everyone to get out as soon as the two of you arrived. Got you the nicest table in the back, all aglow with candles scattered about. Ordered first himself and then for you. And all the while you wondered what the fuck you were going to do about any of it. How were you going to get out of this one? What even was this one? What was he doing? 

“I know you must be used to this treatment. Getting anything you want. I think we’re very similar. Have I told you that?” He was sitting half forward, hands clasped together atop the table. Staring at you. 

“Can you please just cut to the chase? Tell me what you want. What are you doing right now?” Trying to take back any semblance of control of this situation. When clearly you had absolutely none. 

This seemed to displease him immensely, easy expression disappearing into one of dissatisfaction. He then sat back with a little roll of his eyes. “We’ve been apart for two years and this is how you decide to patch things up?” 

“Patch- are you out of your mind?” Maybe anger was easier. You just had to be careful not to let it bleed. You didn’t need him any angrier than the low level of simmer he was working with. “You kidnapped me. And tortured me. For months.” 

“Torture.” Lips pulling back, teeth showing in a small snarl as if he’d eaten something bitter. “Don’t say that.” He was quick to realize and then held his hand up. “-I don’t like it. Feel free to say whatever you want-”

“Fuck you. How’s that.” 

He heaved a terrible sigh, putting his chin in his palm. “There’s that fire. It’s getting old, you know. Can you speak to me like the civilized person you parade around as?” 

“Just tell me what you want. Stop dragging this out.” You just wanted the right to know where your fate was ending. “Why go to all this trouble? What are you doing?” 

The servers interrupted the both of you, setting down a large tea kettle, cups and saucers and what looked some weird meat aside some even stranger tea cakes. Because everything here was designed to upset you. You were sure he knew. There was no excuse otherwise. Once they left he began pouring himself a cup, letting silence hang beneath the gentle clink of ceramics and cutlery. 

And then. Finally. “Jessica is not what you think she is.” 

You really couldn’t help the twist of your face then. “Are you serious? That’s what this is about?” 

“Did she tell you that Hope girl is in the hospital?” 

That was twice you’d let yourself be blindsided today. You were growing weaker, that was the only thing you knew for sure. But quickly you reigned yourself in. “You can’t possibly think I believe you care about that poor girl. After what you did to her-” 

He made an ugly grimace and waved an overly dismissive hand. “That was Jessica’s fault. And regardless- I know you do.” He was trying to play both sides against the middle. It really couldn’t have been clearer. You still didn’t know why though. “Jessica doesn’t care about anyone but herself. Not like you.” 

“I couldn’t care less what Jessica cares about. So if that’s all the info you’ve got, I’m going to leave.” 

He started cutting into his little dinner time snack. “She’s doing what she thinks she has to. You tried to get involved because it was the right thing to do.” Mocking the very idea at the same time he was trying to pitch it to you. He popped a small bite of that very pink meat into his mouth and continued. “I envy that about you, you know.” You rolled your eyes and shook your head. A mistake, as he continued. “It’s why I think you weren’t involved in that whole…” He waved his knife around in thought. “Kidnapping business. You care about what’s right. And the right way to do it.” Holding your gaze again, he grinned. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” 

You imagined he wanted you to admit you were here because you had no choice. No other viable option. He wanted you to admit that you were powerless and at his mercy. You also were still backed into a corner over not being able to admit the only reason you weren’t there to take him down the other day was because Jessica had kept you in the dark. 

...or did he know that, too? He was here, after all, trying to paint her in a very bad light. 

“Your silence is very poetic.” He took a bite out of a little cake and continued to bask in that aforementioned silence, glowing even, washing everything down with a sip of tea. What was the point in talking anymore. You just let it linger until he decided it was time to speak again. “I’m not going to tell you to, but I think in time you’ll realize all this fighting… it’s worthless. Eventually you will give up and come home to me when you’re ready.” 

“Why?” The word escaped you in a hitch of a gasp. You’d lost track of your breathing again. 

His smile was so very broad as he leaned in, tone dropping, candlelight bouncing like flames on the sides of his face and just underneath his chin. “I need you, puppy.” Looking at you- watching you- freezing you with words that did not belong to him. Not in that capacity. Not like that. “There’s no one in the world like you. At least not that I’ve seen- and not with our history. And when you’re ready, I’ll let you sit by my side again.” 

The ice shattered the moment his hand touched over yours. Abruptly you stood, hitting the edge of the table, sending everything rocking sideways. Tea splashed all over him and all at once his entire demeanor changed as he growled. “Clean that up-” But once again, quickly, amended himself. “Never mind.” And then, as if he was in control of your reaction, too, he flicked his hand. “Go, if you’re going to go. I’m sure you’re late for something else or other. But I think you should think on it. Eventually you’ll realize I’m right.” 

This was the moment. You could reach out and just… throttle him. Beat him to death. Choke him. Reach into his chest and- 

“Try to think about all the unnecessary deaths that could be avoided if you’d just give in.” His smile was so sunny. So saccharine sweet. 

Warning you. Warning you that he must have had a million fail safes. And that there was nothing you could do, otherwise you’d be responsible for so much more. Wasn’t that how you’d gotten into this mess in the first place? He must have known that, too. 

Of course he did. The one thing Kilgrave knew for sure at this point. You were powerless against him. 

                                                     ---

How you got home you had no idea. Walked? Took a cab? Called a company car? It was a complete mystery. The sun had long since gone down. It was about ten at night. Which meant it had taken a little while. But you were a little too lost in a few other thoughts to see outside of yourself enough to know how you’d gotten from that cafe back to the Tower. 

Maybe the point of all this, after all this time, hadn’t been to keep everyone away from Kilgrave. Maybe the lesson that you should have learned was the one you’d thought about when you were stuck with him in the first place. That you should have been grateful it was only you. That he only had you. So that his fascination wouldn’t wander- at least not to other super powered individuals. 

Maybe you should have just really given up and not ran. And maybe you needed to give up now. Maybe you just needed to hand yourself over. He’d made it very clear he was about to move heaven and hell just to make that point to you. Why not cut to the chase? What else could you do? What were your other options? 

As the elevator opened up on the penthouse floor, you saw Tony sitting on one of the couches, perking up immediately once he caught sight of you. “Honey-” Probably waiting up for you. Knowing your schedule wasn’t supposed to run that long but trusting that you’d been out doing something. 

It was all too easy to just climb atop him and collapse in a heap over him, burying your face in his shoulder, eyes closing as his arms wrapped around you. Was this the life you could give up? For Tony’s safety- the thought flitted in. If Kilgrave had a mind to go after Tony, even with the knowledge that the suits would save you- what if he knew you knew that- he seemed to be doing a lot of cryptic hinting that he knew everything you knew. 

So you had to assume he did. So you also had to assume he could hurt Tony if he wanted to. Burn Tony’s life to the ground, even. If he wanted to. But he’d stop wanting to. If you just gave yourself to him. 

Tony allowed you to melt into him for as long as you wanted. Which seemed like a very long time. But eventually, when you found the strength, you sat half back, taking his face in your hands. Looking at him. Memorizing the way he gazed at you. The concerned warmth in his eyes. The love there. His hands moved at your sides, fingers spreading wide, keeping you steady. 

“Did the team go on a retrieve mission in Slovakia?” This was stupid. And not what you needed to be talking about right now. 

Even he seemed not to expect it, brows lifting straight up. “What? Uh-” Then knitting as he thought about it. But, finally, you felt a strange sense of relief as he shook his head. “No. Why? Are you okay?” 

So Christine had fabricated it. ...or someone else had. Kilgrave had done your job for you. And expected you to thank him in return. How easy it had been for him, too, to just make her go away. Make all of it go away. Just a few simple sentences… 

Leaning in as you still held him, eyes closing to keep the tears at bay, you pressed your forehead to his. “I love you, Tony.” 

There was an uncertain pain that slipped from him to you. Clearly wading in your hurt but not knowing what to do about it. What it was about. How to help. “I love you, too. Talk to me.” Gentle encouragement. 

So, with a shivering breath you did. “Kilgrave took me to a restaurant just now.”

 There was something to be said of the steady, heavy and icy anger that choked the room so suddenly. It made it hard, but. You told him everything. And struggled not to tell him where you thought this was about to end. Because he was already holding on to you so tightly, so protectively  it hurt. 

 And when all was said and done, once the silence of thought had fled, Tony offered what made the most sense. “He’s pitting you and Jones against each other.” This was what you thought, too. You wanted him to make it make sense for you. “You think she knows?”

 ...oh. Was that the reason she didn’t want you anywhere near her or her plans? Whether because he’d already played this number with her and she didn’t trust you- or because she did and she didn’t want to risk you? “I don’t know. She won’t answer my calls.”

 Clear cut annoyance rebounded from him to you in a hard cycle. What he figured out next surprised you, “So he planted that bogus story on Christine to instill a sense of-” Waving his hand lightly around in thought. “-couldn’t be gratitude. This guy doesn’t care whether or not you like him.”

 “Showing off.” You felt empty. “He was showing off. He made a potential mess for me and then cleaned it up, too.” Kilgrave was pointing out how easy it was to destroy your entire life if he wanted to. Just a few words. That was it. That was all he needed.

 Suddenly reading the inevitability, his head turned up, looking at you instead of letting his thoughts connect off in the distance. The pieces were there. He was understanding a little too much. “We’re not finished. Not by a long shot. We’ll figure this out.” Somehow he knew, maybe just because he knew you. Maybe because of that string that tied you both tight- he knew how close you were to that edge.

 He knew you were looking at where this ended. Not in a favorable light by any means. And he was suddenly begging you, with that look in his eyes, his hand gripping your shoulder and a tremendous pain pulsing from his heart to yours-

 Don’t give up.

 It was too much to ask that you be strong anymore. And because it was him… You let go of the idea. And just barely held on to him while he tried to soothe you through sobs so intense you could barely breathe.

                                                     ---

The two of you spent the entire next day in exhausted rawness. He seemed unable to leave your side. Which made it lucky that you had no strength to move. Hours slipped by. Just holding on to each other. A sunrise came. And a sunset went. 

Eventually he won out as the stronger of the two of you when he got up to order some food. It would help, eating, probably. Even though you already knew you had no appetite. You’d have to suffer through it for him. But just as he’d started giving a dinner order to Happy, your phone rang. 

Lo and behold. 

Jessica Jones. Who wasted no time as soon as you picked up the line. “I need you to come down to my office. Now.” 

Tony had stopped talking. Just watching you. Waiting for news of the next bad thing. 

A feeling that seemed to soak your entire lives. 

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter One Hundred Thirty Eight #Jessica Jones Spoilers

[soft-baby-dobrik]

dibs // david dobrik

a/n: wow i’ve been gone forever. i promise i’ll try and write more and not get too caught up in my reality lol

summary: dom flirts with you a lot and david gets jealous.

masterlist

requests are open

follow my instagram (david page) <3

Becoming part of the vlog squad friend group was pretty simple. You were a little more reserved around them since you were new to the group, and they loved that. It made for more reactions for the clips. Although, you were newer, everyone had taken a liking to you. Especially Dom. While you weren’t as innocent, more so as quiet, Dom had a heightened attraction to you, especially since you were so hard to get. To you, Dom was an attractive guy, but sleeping around wasn’t your thing and you made that known to him on multiple occasions. Of course that did not stop Dom’s advances. You were someone who did not worship him or jump on the opportunity to sleep with him immediately, and he wanted to conquer you.

Little did he know, you had your eyes on someone else anyway, so truly he had no chance. David was the one you caught yourself glancing at when sitting around. His laugh could fill the entire room and your heart. The attraction was there for you instantly, but the more you hung around him, the more your heart pounded and your cheeks would heat up as he looked at you. He has the most mood-changing smile. His smile turned into your smile. The cruel reality that he was not interested in you was there, yet your feelings grew.

Keeping your feelings a secret was your top priority. It had to stay a secret so you wouldn’t lose friendships and embarrass yourself. Only one person you confided in and that was Corinna. With opposing personalities, you two were a great pair from the start. Both of you kind hearted and sweet, but you were just a little more reserved and awkward than she. Also, she was not an idiot. You practically drooled over David whenever he was around. She had told you to say “fuck it,” and admit your crush to David, but you refused to.

“It would just ruin everything,” you groaned, throwing your head back down on the couch and squinting your eyes.

“Or, it could start something,” she bit back, pursing her lips at your defiance.

You ignored her and continued on with watching your TV show. 

Most days were the same, consisting of you attending school and doing school work and later hanging out with whoever invited you along anywhere. When a text popped up on your phone from David, you were slightly tingly. On many occasions David was the one who invited you to hang out, but you knew it was just him being friendly and most likely needing footage. Within seconds, your fingers were flying across the keyboard saying that “yes” to his offer of hanging out. He responded back in seconds saying to meet him at Alex and Dom’s place. Easily, you changed out of your pajama pants into leggings and left your house and headed towards your car. Your phone dinged as you drove and listened to music loudly. Glancing down at a red light, you saw it was from Corinna.

Bitch, are you coming to Alex’s?

Quickly you typed back:

lol yes? are you?

Another ding and she replied

Yea, I’ll see you there. Just making sure they weren’t lying to me for some clip shit or whatever lmao

Shaking your head, you continued towards the apartment. Once you pulled into a parking spot and made your way up to the apartment, you knocked on the door. Alex opened it and gave you a smile.

“Hey, y/n,” he greeted, sweetly.

“Hey,” you smiled back, walking into the apartment as he made room for you to enter. As you walked towards the living room, you saw Dom, Corinna, and David lounging on the couches. No camera was in sight, but who knew where it was. It had to be close by like always.

“Hey, babe,” you smiled at Corinna and went over to lean down and hug her. She grinned back at you as you plopped down next to her.

“Hey, babe,” Dom greeted, grinning, teasing.

“Hello, Dom,” you sighed, smiling at him to show you didn’t really mean any harm by it.

“You look nice,” he continued, moving from next to David, to closer to you. Even though you didn’t necessarily want the compliment from him, you couldn’t stop your cheeks from heating up. “Really nice,” he continued once again, eyeing you up and down. 

“Too bad she’s my bitch,” Corinna butted in, leaning towards you.

“She could be mine,” Dom smiled at you.

“Like the other sixteen you have right now?” David added, raising an eyebrow.

“I would drop them all for, y/n,” Dom said back.

“How flattering,” you laughed, shaking your head.

“So are we needed for anything or are we actually just hanging out?” Corinna asked as Alex entered the room.

“He probably needs some shit, just wait,” Alex responded, monotone, flopping down on the couch next to me. I shot him a smile and he gave me the same.

“I mean, if you do need some footage, David, you could just record y/n and I making out,” Dom offered, as if it was an actual possibility. You laughed, loudly. There was no other way to deal with Dom’s continuous flirtation other than to laugh. David’s eyebrows scrunched as he inhaled sharply.

“Don’t need that,” David said, with annoyance.

“She laughed, so she may be about it. That would be good clickbait,” Dom countered, really trying to make this possible.

“I think David is okay on footage,” you responded, shaking your head once again. “And if we aren’t doing anything, can we at least watch a movie?” you added, looking around.

“Only if you’re watching it in my room,” Dom responded first.

“Jesus, Dom, cut it out,” Alex groaned. “Yes, a movie, out here.” Then, he looked at Dom, clearly over the game.

“But, y/n,” Dom murmured, “It would be a lot more fun just you and me in my room.” He turned to look at you with a smirk. 

“Dom, shut the fuck up,” David said, not in his normal, joking manner. “She says no to ever sort of advancement, just let it go, shit,” David mumbled. Everyone glanced over at David and then towards you.

Dom being his usual bothersome self, continued on, “You don’t know, she may say yes this time.” 

“Doubtful,” Corinna said, not amused. 

“I mean you’d be surprised, a lot of girls just can’t resist,” Dom winked at you. You rolled your eyes before pushing yourself up off the couch.

“Dom, can you just stop?” you murmured, snuggling into your cardigan as you began to put your shoes on.

“Only if you give me a kiss,” Dom grinned and you shook your head, grabbing your bag. 

“I’m gunna go, I’ll see ya later,” you mumbled. Dom was unfazed and Corinna gave you sad eyes, feeling bad for you already leaving.

“I think I’m gunna go, too,” David said, standing up. 

“Love you,” you said to Corinna before waving at Alex and glaring at Dom who just blew you a kiss. You walked towards the door and heard David say his goodbyes. As you made it to the door, you head David’s rushed footsteps.

“Hey,” he called, as you walked out the door. He followed out quickly and shut the door. “I’m sorry I invited you here.” His eyes looked down at you as you shifted awkwardly.

“I mean, it’s okay, you can’t help what Dom does,” you shrugged.

“I know, but you just deserve someone who means those things he’s saying. Not just wanting to fuck you,” he awkwardly said with a nervous smile.

“Um, thank you?” you responded, equally as awkward. “I’ll see you later,” you murmured, hugging him quickly before going to your car, blushing furiously.

The ride home, you listened to music loudly and happily and heard your phone ding at least three times with messages. Once you pulled into the driveway, you looked down to see all of them were from David.

Hey, I’m sorry again.

Did you wanna come by later? I’m having some people over to hang out. The usuals

You don’t have to, but you’re welcome to :)

Quickly, you typed back and said you would be there. He told you to come over at nine and you rushed inside to see you had enough time to lay down and take a nap. He sent one last message saying it was casual, of course, and to dress comfy. You smiled before laying down. Another ding came from your phone, but this time from Dom:

I’ll see you later tonight, bb ;)

Groaning, you locked your phone and closed your eyes. Why couldn’t David flirt with you instead of Dom?

After your nap, you took a shower and got ready quickly. Leggings and a crop tank and cardigan and some Vans was what you threw on after getting ready. You texted David saying you were on the way and began to drive to David’s house. Where you lived wasn’t too far form David’s place, so you arrived pretty quickly. When you pulled up, there was no one in the driveway. Shrugging it off, you headed towards his front door. After ringing the doorbell, David opened the door for you with a shy smile.

“Hey,” he said, hanging onto the door.

“Hi,” you smiled back walking through the entrance. “Did I beat everyone here?” you questioned, seeing no one.

“Uh, yes,” he responded, awkwardly. You nodded as you followed him towards the living room. Trips to David’s house weren’t in a big quantity. As you waited, you laid down on the couch to see alcohol on the table and over in the kitchen. Criminal Minds was on the TV and you curled up, watching. David shuffled towards the couch you were on and sat next to you. There was a comfortable silence as you both watched the show. Your heart pounded as he moved a couple times and suddenly, his fingers were playing with your hair. Thankfully, you didn’t flinch. If you did, you were scared he would have stopped. He was so gentle as he played with the ends, and twirled pieces. From where you were, you couldn’t see him and hoped he wasn’t able to see the flush on your cheeks. Your eyes were trained on the TV but you were not even paying attention. 

“Your hair is so soft,” he whispered, continuing to mess with it.

“Thank you,” you murmured, scared any sort of movement or sound could ruin the moment. Just as luck was, the doorbell rang and David shot off the couch and to the door. Sighing, you got up and grabbed a bottle of wine and began to drink. Dom, Alex, Zane, and Todd all barged through the door and grinned at the alcohol. David followed behind and seemed a little irritated with them, which was weird.

“There’s my girl,” Zane smiled. You grinned right back at him and ran over to give him a hug. Dom hung around you two and even though you were plenty of feet apart, you could smell the weed he had smoked earlier. Zane and you sat down on the couch and began taking shots together. After about four, you let Zane continue the process with Todd. Everyone else filed in randomly. Smiling and feeling dazed, you stalked off to the kitchen to see a couple people you were unfamiliar with and went towards the wine and grabbed a glass. As you sipped on it, you could feel the shots taking over your state. Music played just loud enough so people had to talk louder than normal.

“Hey, babe,” Dom’s flirtatious voice spoke as he came close to you. Sighing, you gulped down the rest of the wine. 

“Dom, how many times do I have to say-” I began but was cut off by Dom’s hand finding a place on my waist.

“That you’re dying to give me a chance?” he grinned, leaning towards you.

You shook your head to signal no and stepped out of his grip. “That I’m not interested,” you corrected.

“Why not?” he pouted, coming closer to you.

“Because, you just wanna fuck me and leave me,” you stated, smiling up at him. “I don’t play those games.”

His hand wrapped around your waist this time and you couldn’t help but laugh for some reason. With the alcohol running through you and his never-ending attempts to sleep with you, somehow turned into humor. Easily, you stepped away from him and found your way into the bathroom. Stepping towards the sink, you inhaled. The alcohol had definitely hit you by now. As you let your eyes close for a second, you heard the door open. “Dom, I swear if you-” you began but cut yourself off when you saw David enter. He shut the door behind him.

“Hey,” he said, looking at you.

“What are you doing in here?” you asked, leaning against the counter. Gulping, you watched as David walked towards you.

“You know how hard it is to see you laugh with Dom? Like really hard since I was the one who had even pointed out how pretty you are,” David paused to look at you. Breathing was becoming hard to do as he came closer. He towered over you as he continued, “I was the one who admitted to having a crush on you. I even told Dom that and he still tries and you let him and it’s fucking infuriating,” his voice was so serious and annoyed and you couldn’t move. David Dobrik was saying all this to you and was touching you. His body was pressed against yours, making you crane up to look at him. “I’m the one who likes you.” Anger wasn’t there so much as irritation. His head dipped down towards yours but he stopped while his hand came to cup your cheek. “I’m the one who’s good for you, not him. I fucking like you,” he finished before pressing his lips against yours. It was a needy kiss. Both him and you needed the kiss. Once he pulled away, he looked down at you.

“I never was interested in Dom. I’ve had a crush on you,” you whispered, feeling the redness in your cheeks and chests and everywhere in your body. Your head was spinning as you admitted it. He tugged on his lower lip with his teeth as he looked at you.

“It honestly annoys me when he flirts with you and I almost want to punch him,” he admitted and it was his turn to blush. David Dobrik punching someone didn’t sound possible, but it truly was when it came to this.

All you could do was stare at him as he looked down at you, his fingers toying with the ends of your hair. Looking into his eyes, you didn’t even notice that you were both leaning towards each other. Once his lips almost touched yours, your eyes fluttered closed and he kissed you again. This time, he pressed your back against the counter and held your waist gently. Suddenly, the door flung open and you both pulled away to see Zane grinning in the doorway. 

“Holy shit! Guys come here!” Zane screamed, giddily and clearly drunk. Blushing, you cuddled into David’s chest and tried to hide from everyone.

“Zane, stop!” David exclaimed, but it was too late. Everyone piled in as much as they could and screamed and hollered at you and David. He wrapped his arms around you, encircling you in the safety of his chest. After the shock wore off, everyone left and you could hear the uproar continue outside the bathroom. Your head was spinning as David pulled away and you whined at the lack of warmth.

“In a way, I’m kind of happy that happened, because now they know that you’re mine,” he said, smiling slightly.

“You didn’t ask me to be,” you pursed your lips at him, knowing if he did you would say yes because it was a stupid point.

Biting his lips, he smiled down at you, “Will you be my girlfriend?” 

“Ask me in the morning again, so I’ll forget about the hangover I’m going to have,” you smiled shyly. He laughed loudly.

“Do you want to go lay down in my room?” he asked, pushing your hair behind your ear. You nodded and followed him out of the bathroom and to his room. Everyone screamed once again and you blushed. Once you reached his room, he tugged you towards his bed. Sitting down, David took off his shoes and then your own before laying down under the blankets. You scrambled towards him and laid down next to him. The room was dark and he tugged you to him. His hands played with your hair as you laid with your head on his chest.

“I’m sleepy,” you murmured, cuddling closer to him.

“Sleep, baby,” David said gently, kissing your forehead.

#david dobrik #david dobrik imagine #david dobrik imagines #david dobrik x reader #vlog squad #vlog squad imagine #vlog squad imagines #imagine #imagines #youtuber imagines #scotty sire #todd smith #dom zeglaitis #brandon calvillo #jason nash #zane hijazi #heath hussar

[v-shigaraki-archive]

january 8 | 12:01am

[A link to a video is sent out to every mobile device. The number of the sender is untraceable.]

The camera blinks on, revealing a man with shaggy blue-ish gray hair. His face is obscured by an ominous looking hand that masks all of his features---save for one of his blood red eyes. It’s obvious that the camera is a handheld of some sort, as the video appears to be shaky and an excited, feminine voice can be heard giggling in the background.

It’s not difficult to guess who they are.

“This is a message for the ignorantly blind citizens of the world,” Shigaraki begins with a grand gesture. “The League of Villains would like to present you all with a little… gift.”

[[T/W: blood, torture, violence]]

The video quickly shifts to something pre-recorded: clips of security footage, it seems, all dated November 9, 2018 in the early morning. None of them have any sound, but perhaps their silent nature simply enhances the tension of the scenes.

A pale boy, clinging to life as the blood drains out of his body, gaping gashes visible on his chest where the tubes are inserted.

Another---this time from a rather… infamous family---drowning in his own bed; water rushing from the ceiling as he shouts, and screams, and chokes.

A silver-haired boy slumped over, unconscious: a stab wound to his back as flood trickles from his body and into a tube.

It cuts back now to a student rushing through the halls, tears streaming down his face as his chest heaves with strenuous effort. He’s already appeared in the footage before, and he’ll likely appear again---but the same way he always does: wildly, desperately clinging to whatever crumbling semblance of hope he has left.

Now, an image of two people: one, appearing to be the silver-haired boy from before, and the other a blond with glassy eyes that seem resigned to his fate. The first boy grabs the blond by the hair and bashes his head into the wall, over and over until blood splatters against the surface and his body slumps over. And then another tube appears.

A girl this time, screaming and crying in her bed as blood trickles, then showers, then pours over her. The blood soaks her white bedsheets and clings to her skin---all while her silent lips remain parted with desperation.

A blindfolded, gagged figure stars in the next clip, this one obviously shorter than the rest. It’s clear that he’s been drugged as his body twists and convulses in its chains, but how this came to be is notably absent.

Two boys bound together in a room, movements slow and hindered. This is the only piece of footage that has clearly been edited: one moment the two are waking up, and then they’re looking at each other, and then they throw themselves at one another in pure lust---then the room is ablaze and one boy is holding the other in a corner. There’s something in his eyes that can’t quite be deciphered---determination? hopelessness?---as he cradles the other, fire quickly consuming the room.

And then a more familiar face---the young pride of one of Heroism’s oldest families---screaming in agony as a knife drags its point through his calves, slicing away at his flesh before ending with him slowly bleeding out.

Throughout all of this, shorter segments of students frantically running through the halls, tears still streaking down their faces, are interspersed.

Not one clip showcases any of the terrified individuals being saved.

It’s a barely-edited montage of sorts---the length of each clip is slow, tumultuous. There are obvious moments of nothing but screaming and running and crying that could have clearly been removed while still serving the video producer’s intended purpose, but it’s not. It’s all there, out in the open: every drop of blood, every wasted tear, every scream… every minute, every second of the tortuous attack on U.A. from months past is displayed right there, for the world to see.

Every. Little. Bit of it.

And then the video abruptly switches to Shigaraki’s face once more, the giggling behind the camera even more fervent than before. “On November 3rd, the League of Villains infiltrated U.A. and infected each and every individual with a bout of quirklessness.” He breaks out into a sudden laugh. “All of this happened months ago and the shitty media has yet to put any of it together---all you’ve apparently figured out is what All Might’s told you, huh? That’s pathetic, really, are you all really that incompetent?”

The one eye that’s visible now looks absolutely wild with delight. “What were you all waiting for? Logs? From some mystery man who can’t seem to do anything big without taking it from others he had allied himself with?”

Shigaraki bursts into laughter at the thought of it, head thrown back in absolute glee as he gives his audience something to think about. And then, suddenly, all traces of amusement vanish as he takes on a frigid aura once more.

“The league takes treachery very seriously… isn’t that right… Hawks?”

The video cuts to another camera in another room. There are two people visible in this one: a green-haired man standing over another, who’s tied down to a chair.

“Isn’t it funny, Hawks?” Deku coos to him lovingly---despite the circumstances he’s in. “For a long time, I’ve been waiting for this. And finally—here you are.” Deku ogles him openly. Tied to a chair so tightly that the ropes might even give him marks. He hopes they do.

The video cuts to another camera in another room. There are two people visible in this one: a green-haired man standing over another, who’s tied down to a chair.

He loves marks.

“So...here’s how this is gonna work. You’re gonna say what I want you to say, mmkay? You’re gonna do what I want you to do. It might take a little while- and that’s okay.  Just as long as we get the  e n d  result~!” Chuckling excitedly, he brings a knife up to the light, grin as wide as can be.

“This is one of my favorite toys...I’m so HAPPY! Heheheh. Ahahahahhh.... How are you feeling, Birdy? ❤” 

Hawks is feeling, alright. He tries to not move. Every shift against the restraints pull and pinch, rubbing him raw where it's against bare skin, bruising anything it holds too tight, which happens to be everything. 

He hated the bruises that came from this shit. He hated this shit. Dekus voice grated on his nerves. But he was here to put on a show, wasn't he? He glared up at Deku, hoping his disgust came off well enough. His wings shifted, trying to get more comfortable. It only served in making them actually hurt-and he held back a choke. This was intentional. Fuck these guys. "Oh, I'm just wonderful." He snaps. His eyes follow Dekus knife. Doesn't seem like the nicest thing to have around him when he's totally immobile. "I love this. Do it every Sunday. It's great."

Deku blushes furiously, staring at him. That look of disgust he gets only makes it worse. “You really hate me, huh? For what I did to Monoma, right? I only made him stronger. Were you wishing I chose you instead?” He sighs lightly, fingering his knife idly before taking a step. “Maybe someday...!”

Hawks clenches his teeth. He holds the glare, following every move Deku made. "No." He snaps.

"Fuck no. If you touch me with any of that shit I'll fucking tear you apart," This would be embarrassing later. 

He's tense while he waits for Deku to use the knife on him somehow, hating every second where nothing was happening. He just wanted it to be over with.

A laugh erupts from Deku, who is now stepping right up to Hawks’ face.

“Oh, I’d love that. But- ah...I’m getting distracted.”

Gently, he runs a finger up Hawks’ neck, looking at his veins in awe.

“We need you to tell us how much you really hate that Mystery guy. You know you do, deep down...”

"I'm sure you-would-" He jerks away from Deku, a little harsher than he meant, only winding up with his bindings digging into him further and making him drop his head with a pained hiss. It's disgusting. He wants Dekus hands off him. When he's prompted to speak more he just hums, trying to give a pained smile to himself. He doesn't look back up at the other. Good or bad, he didn't want to say shit. "Is that really all you want."

“I want so much more....but it’s not exactly about me today.  I’m just following...orders.”

Slowly, he glides his knife up the other’s arm, pressing it jusssst hard enough to break skin....but not terribly hard.

He leans in, speaking lowly in the other’s ear; voice venomous.

“I know you want this to be over soon- I know how you are. But I intend to drag this out as long as possible. I think he wants me to, too.”

His eyes flick to the window in the room; it’s hard to make out anyone standing there, but a faint, red light can be seen shining through.

“I think... they all want me to drag it out. I think...they’re all dying to see you bleed tonight.” 

As the knife gently splits skin Hawks squirms, swearing quietly. It hurts in a way that makes his chest flutter. At least he isn't crying. Or screaming. Or being a bitch at any of the pain. That's one good thing about him. He didn't hate being hurt. He just hated Deku. Hawks looks up at the window as Deku mentions it. He.. almost knew what was going on. They were recording him, and wanted to do shit with him-get him to talk about Mystery, apparently-and he could comply or he could blow his chance with this completely.

This was how he was getting completely back into the Leagues favour. It was a shame he was shit at just sitting and taking things.

"Then make me bleed."  He dared, "If you want to so much then do it."

The boy’s eyes shoot open and there’s a sudden air of unpredictable rage that he gets- the way a dog looks while it sinks its teeth into flesh. He STABS the knife into the other’s thigh with no remorse, watching him as his expression fades to emotionless.

“Ahhh...you like stuff like this, don’t you? Being treated like this.”

Without any regard to personal space and knowing how much Hawks will hate it, Deku slides into his lap, straddling him with ease.

The knife is still lodged in his thigh. “I feel like-“ He toys with the handle of the knife, poking and prodding it. “-You like feeling like you’re being punished, yeah? Maybe you feel like it evens out all your wrongs. Makes it...” He twists the knife. “Even.”

The noise Hawks makes is a combination of a scream and a moan. His eyes snap up to Deku for just a moment before his head rolls back. He's breathless and tears are in his eyes now, barely being held back by gravity. 

With Deku so comfortably in his lap he felt sick. Sick and satisfied in a way he never did unless something so violent was happening to him. 

Deku was always so determined to make him look absolutely pathetic, wasn't he. 

Every shift made him whimper, even if he was trying so damn hard to stop it. 

"Fuck o-AH" He's cut off by the twist of the knife, forcing tears out and making him strain harder while he tried to breathe in and just ended up sobbing. Every noise he made was a combination of immense pain and pleasure, giving away how much he did enjoy it-perhaps not entirely for the reasons Deku suspected, but it was enjoyment nonetheless.

The sound sends shivers through his body in a way that’s always made Deku feel alive. His smile returns, staring at him like this made him the most amazing person in the world.

“Ahah...! That was heavenly....! You’re an angel, for that.”

Taking the knife out of his thigh, he examines it a moment before licking the blade- small noise of satisfaction trickling from him. “Mystery... I still don’t know how I feel about him...” He pricks the other’s arms as he speaks- as if whittling. Or creating something. Blood trickles down, line by line, with each little cut. It’s fun to watch. “On one hand....he’s infuriating. On the other hand, it’s....” And another STAB- lodging the knife in his left shoulder this time. Deku kisses his neck. He truly is...content like this. “...I guess it doesn’t matter.”"...He's pathetic.." Hawks murmurs out through a strained voice. The stab into his shoulder made him choke and cry out again. All the little cuts were sweet torture, making him whine and cry and gasp. It's barely enough to distract him from Deku. His lips. His oddly gentle touch coupled with the knife in his shoulder. He's breathing heavy when he starts speaking again, "Pathetic. Disgusting. ... Cruel." He wanted to laugh. "More sadistic than you, probably. Goes a little far. Did I ever talk about what happened?" He was trying so hard to keep his voice steady. His eyes were closed, like he didn't want to face the fact that he was really saying this to anyone. Just another case of him talking to himself. "..I hated it. I hate them. I hate them." The malice in his voice was more real than even he had thought. This is what they wanted, right? Hawks to denounce Mystery. Maybe he needed it too.

Softly, Deku runs his fingers through the other’s hair, letting his knife sit in the other’s shoulder. “You didn’t, but feel free to now. This is your time to vent, after all.* Deku has a microphone attached to the other’s chest- capturing every word, every gasp, every cry. No matter how soft. “Tell me more. Tell me more about what he did.” 

Hawks leaned his head ever so slightly into the hand. He made another noise at Deku flicking the knife. He knit his eyebrows together, conflicted.

He flicks the knife gently, taking some of the other’s blood on his finger and using it to trace the outline of his collarbone with red.

".... I trusted him." He was whispering. Maybe if he kept it low they wouldn't hear the shame coming through. "And like the idiot he is he went overboard and ffff-FUCKED it all up. Hours of torture isn't exactly a permanent way to keep someone." He took a deep breath, "Attached to you, to keep someone around, thank fucking god Sstain," The name burnt on his tongue, "Got me out before-before-b-" He shook his head. "Anything. Else."

Hawks opened his eyes, finally. He was crying again. It wasn't violent, like when he'd been stabbed. 

"He wanted to make me stronger, they said I was-what-what was it that they wrote?-I'm special I'm perfect, bullshit, fucking bullshit if you're trying to use somebody to have more fun getting off don't make lies that are so damn easy to see through, and he just expects everything to fall in his fucking lap, like he's god, like he's better, even though he doesn't have shit except the element of surprise-" He cut himself off before he got any louder, meeting Deku’s eyes.

While he’s talking, Deku’s touch is gentle. Soothing, in an odd way. ... For a moment, his brows furrow. There’s... something in Deku’s eyes, that doesn’t seem like it belongs there. It makes him seem...like a different person, almost. “That’s...awful.”

He stares into the other’s eyes for a moment- but it doesn’t seem like he’s staring at him.

...If that makes sense. Ahah. “We can get back at him, you know. We will get back at him. We’ll make him suffer, bleed... ...Ahah. You want that, don’t you? To put him in his place. To remind him that he’s not a god, that he can still be knocked down.”

Gingerly, he kisses the other’s neck, before taking his knife out of his shoulder and wrapping his arms around him- letting the blood pour down, soak him as well. “You want that more than anything right now.”

Hawks' breath catches.

He doesn't know what it is. Something about how Deku says awful. How he looks at Hawks, different, and real, so much of a departure from the disgustingly sweet looks he has when catching his prey, and stabbing a knife into its thigh, it's shoulder.

Something about that makes his eyes widen, and continues to make tears spill, and makes him shake in the restraints. This isn't the good kind of hurting. Hawks looks at Deku. Watches him while he talks. He looks lost while Deku talks. A little bit... scared. Not scared of Deku. He shudders when the knife is out of him, and Deku's wrapped around him. The way blood feels running down his body right now makes him feel nothing but sick. "I do." It comes out very small. He says it again. Louder. "I... do."

He sighs a moment, clutching onto the other tightly. He sees the reflection of the red light in the window and leans back. For a moment, he almost doesn’t want to turn back. One last kiss to the base of his neck before a slow chuckle seeps out of his throat. “Ahahah...good. I knew you’d see reason. Knew you were smart.... ahahah....shhh...shh... it’ll be okay, now.”

Standing, he turns and faces the camera- voice loud. “There you have it, Myst-! From the one and only!

I hope now you remember ... ...just how truly alone you are! Ahaha! Back to you, Shiggy!”

When the video switches back to Shigaraki, he’s absolutely losing it. His head is thrown back in absolute delight, joyous, hysterical laughter harmonizing with the intense, manic, frenzied laughter of the woman he’s with. The footage is blurry as the screen shakes---it’s obvious that the person operating the camera could care less about keeping it stable.

It takes a long time for either of them to calm down. But when they do, Shigaraki steps towards the camera so that only his face is visible within the frame. Giggling can still be heard in the background.

He removes the hand masking his features to reveal an unnaturally large, absolutely grotesque smile to the camera.

“This is both a reminder and a warning: your precious sense of peace was shaken once and it will be shaken again---and this time by those who aren’t afraid to show their faces.”

Click.

#:) #shigaraki tomura #deku #hawks #toga #relapse.arc #//blood #//torture #//violence #shigaraki.txt #para #[[fuck i meant to get this out earlier but tumblr formatting is a BITCH okay]] #[[ALSO a little late but BIG shoutout for ed and chris for writing that fucking awesome scene for this i LOVE THEM]]

[hollerace]

Ace, Cheese and the Star--January 22, 2021

I was in the “this drum for hire” mode. A stint with a soulful woman from the city (There’s only one. City, that is.). A folk-rock band who played only for friends, so they were liked by few. An act with a passel of horns with hard, r&b underpinnings and fetid, doubleknit stage costumes. Even a stint in the pit at a local theater (The frenzied, amusical “artistic” director would scream, “BAND GO!” at rehearsals). I really enjoyed the Cheese Russell gigs. He had this loosely knit, scuffling, skiffling outfit. Cheese managed the vocals and a bit of harmonica. Copious amounts of Tanqueray fueled his performances, closely monitored by his girlfriend, who was an immaculately turned-out Wall Streeter, seamlessly blonde and forever in control. Peggy provided a stark contrast to Cheese, who resembled a human unmade bed, a big rumple of a man whose goal in life was to induce in others the jollity that he himself exuded, seemingly at all times. Cheese Russell had the unique ability to win over any audience, anywhere. We’d do bluesy shuffles and funky expeditions. He feared no genre and attacked them all with a weird mix of brashity and balls-to-the-walls cheerfulness. Peggy managed to procure decent gigs. The dingy bars were few and far between. Often, we’d journey to the northern climes of New England to play for kids from financially gifted environments at small schools where excellence—and fun—were strictly moderated. We’d travel in a well-worn, former special-ed bus. Peggy piloted. I’m not sure whether Cheese was allowed to do so. The vehicle was kitted out quite nicely. One particular foray took place early in the school year, on an pristine field hockey venue at a suitably tweedy college in Massachusetts. I learned multiple acts were booked for a “welcome back” event of forced enjoyment for the young scholars. I claimed an embracing easy chair between my bass drum and the Hammond B-3, which organ Cheese owned and required players to master. The band that day was Cheese’s usual amalgam of players. I know we had Beefsteak Osborne on the B-3, a solid cat. I was less sanguine about our bassist, simply known as Riley. A modestly talented player, Riley seemed more thrilled with the music business than actually honing his skills on his selected instrument. Riley was a former rugby jock with broad-shouldered, Sellecky good looks. He didn’t mind the female attention he’d get at every venue, either. On the bus, he exclaimed: “We’re opening up for Dalton Willow today. Cool.” This didn’t faze me, but it rankled our leader, who snapped: “We are The Cheese Russell Band. Cheese doesn’t ‘open’ for anyone. He’s lucky we’re here.” I had heard of this Willow character. He played solo, strumming wan ballads that college kids favored, since the tunes had little content. One song, “Sunday Funday” had reached the airwaves in certain parts of the country. I had heard the harmless ditty once or twice. The Cheese bus contained enough years of grizzled talent that Dalton Willow didn’t impact the crazed paths we each had committed to following. No matter. A beautiful Sunday lay ahead. One quick set and gone. Peggy always took care to put ample jingle in our pockets. She doled out the gin, tonic and limes in just the right doses to get Cheese limbered up, but with at least two wheels on the track. As two flanneled, weight-advantaged Vermont girls warbled folk songs, I set my kit up behind the stage. There would be at least two more acts before we hit. I took my time. Peggy, pristine in cashmere and camel, saw to Cheese. “These kids think I’m someone’s aunt,” she remarked to me at one college gig. A pressed-jean guy wearing myriad laminated backstage passes from various small-time venues seemed to be directing traffic backstage. “You, over there,” he barked to no one in general, “are you with Cheese Russell?” Cheese rolled his eyes, took a deep swill and said, “I AM Cheese Russell. Relax, buddy.” This discomfited the laminati man somewhat. He said, “I am Dalton’s manager, and we can’t have people roaming around back here. Dalton is the headliner and he requires…”

By this time, Cheese’s back was turned. He lit a Lucky as the manager fumed. Peggy quickly intervened to mollify. I went about my business of unfolding, tightening and securing, as I had done so many times before.

A guy approached me as I worked. He said, “You’re Ace Holleran, aren’t you?”

Whoa. I didn’t expect this so far north. I assented. He said, “I saw you at McCall’s in New York with Darlene Sanders. Nice drums.”

We shook. “Cool,” I said. “What’s your name?” The guy stepped back and offered me a perplexed look. “Why, I’m Dalton.” As in “howdareyounotknowwhoIam.”

I feigned fandom. For a second. Then, I figured that I had been in the biz long enough to brook  such nonsense. I challenged: “What’s your real name? Can’t be Dalton Willow. Come on, man.”

He looked at the ground, almost ashamed. “It’s  Harold. Harold Kisch.”I as

ked, “What about ‘Sunday Funday’? Are you tired of playing it?”

He said, “Yeah, but…”

I replied, “Then don’t do it today. Play one of your newer tunes, something you like better.”

Harold/Dalton began to protest. His manager stepped in. “YOU CAN’T TALK TO HIM! THAT’S DALTON WILLOW, POLYGRAND RECORDING ARTIST! Dalton, come get into your stage clothes!”

I met Mr. Laminate’s glare with a dismissive middle digit and got my gear sorted.

Per usual, Cheese confused his audience in the early going. These young listeners, fueled mainly by cheap wine, were not used to hearing Curtis Mayfield and J. Geils. In reality, they must have thought the Supremes assayed real soul music.

But through our leader’s insistent goading (and vicious harp licks), the students began to come around. Even extremely pale, rhythmically challenged girls tried to dance to “The World Is a Ghetto” and “Superfly”. In the end, hundreds of young Episcopalians asked for an encore.

Riley looked elated, smiling for a passel of adoring coeds. As I packed up, Peggy asked us if we wanted to stay for Dakota Willow. Cheese was settling into post-gig lassitude and Riley, who was working a bosomy young scholar, pleaded with me.

I added, “Ok, Riley. But I’ll betcha ten that he doesn’t do his hit.” The bassist took the wager. He had already found blanket space with his paramour.

A few feet away, Dalton Willow, clad in a confusing medley of buckskin, brandished a ridiculously expensive Martin guitar and prepared to serenade his homogenous public.

At the rear of the crowd, after getting buttonholed by the lubricated lacrosse team (and newfound Cheese fans), I settled back with a Ballantine ale and watched a minor rock star play at earnest while the sun set.

I must admit, some of the songs weren’t half bad. DW warbled about his dog, an old VW van and a lost girlfriend whose name might have been Mary (I couldn’t follow the lyrics). To my delight, he didn’t attempt his “hit.” As he finished up, most of the students had left for their deluxe townhouses on campus.

The ovation was paltry; the manager was furious. I could hear him as we got on our bus, upbraiding the leathery balladeer (“Are you kidding me? That song is your living!”) I caught one last view of the former Harold Kisch. He gave me a thumbs-up and a wink.

On the way, before I dozed, I said, “Riley that’s ten you owe me.”

***

Within the next year, I emigrated to Los Angeles. Not long after, Beefsteak Osborne sent me a newspaper clipping. It seems a school bus driven by one Margaret Flannery had been sideswiped by an errant oil truck on a rural Vermont highway. Her lone passenger, one Marlon (Marlon?) Russell, died on the spot.

Later in my career, I drove to a producer’s home in Malibu to discuss an upcoming album. I tuned the juke to a rock station. I found myself intrigued by a newer, uptempo tune by established stars, the Desperadoes. The DJ purred, “A bit of trivia for you listeners. That song was written by one ‘H. Kisch.’ He might be better known to some of you folks back East as one-hit wonder Dalton Willow.” 

[frecklefaceb]

Misunderstanding

Genre: Fan Fiction (Divergent Trilogy)  Pairing: Eric/OFC-Harlie Jane Stone  Warnings: Language, Angst Light, Fluffy, and mild NSFW Rating: Mature Disclaimer: This a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line.

*So this is my first (and possibly) last fore into Eric land! It was very hard for me to get into this mindset, and I want to extend kudos to all you Eric writers! This idea came to me in a dream so I hope you all like it. I’d like to thank those that have been patiently waiting for me to tackle Eric. A huge shout out goes to @feminamortem for keeping me in line and the ever lovely KieraKay, both are much better at this than I am. I’m further humbled by the experience. Enough with my ramblings, I hope you enjoy!*

“Shit,” she murmurs to herself, hanging up the receiver only to frantically grab it again and punch in a number.

She blows out the air in her cheeks, checking the clock as she impatiently waits for him to pick up. 

“Jace speaking,” his voice firm and confident which only further agitates her.  

“Fuck! Fuckity! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” she blurts into the phone.

“Hello to you, too,” Jace utters but is cut off.

“I got called into Eric’s office,” she whines, seeking any sort of comfort.

Instead he only replies with a patronizing, “Mmmmhmmm." 

"Jace!” she hisses, “This is serious! What if I screwed up?" 

"Harlie Jane, why in the world would you be in trouble?” he questions and she could practically imagine his eyeroll as he spoke to her. 

“I don’t know!” she blurts, he never understood the brevity of the situation. Jace was always more calm and collected of the pair which was rather ironic considering she was a Dauntless Analyst. 

“You sound ridiculous. We both know you’re one of the best damn analysts this faction has,” he didn’t even bother to mask his annoyance. 

“Some husband you are,” she jeers into the phone while checking the clock.

“I’ll grab one of those bottles of wine you like on my way home,” Jace coolly smooths over the situation. 

“I have to survive in order to enjoy said wine,” she points out and Jace laughs.

“You aren’t the first nor will you be the last person to be chewed out by that egomaniac. Isn’t that like some sort of initation for you people?" 

Harlie groans, "I’m glad you’re amused." 

"Oh, believe me I am and I can’t wait to hear all about your meeting with the big bad Dauntless leader,” he stifles a laugh at his own joke. 

“It won’t be so funny when I’m demoted and we have to move into a crappy apartment,” Harlow spits. “I’ve got to go.”

“Bye!” Jace bellows as she hangs up without a reply, jumping up from behind her desk and slamming the door closed as she rushes down to the reception area to find Tonya and Brett.

“Toni I’ve got to head out to a last-minute meeting,” Harlie informs the secretary for intelligence.  

“Yes, with Mr. Coulter. It’s already blocked out on your schedule,” she politely smiles. Patting the desk, Harlie glances at Brett, her co-worker and friend, who appears stunned by the development. Harlie didn’t have time to worry if Brett was jealous, they’d have to discuss this later.

“I’ll catch you later!” Harlie dismisses over her shoulder as she moves to the leadership wing with deep breaths, racking her brain for any clue to why this meeting was even occurring. She couldn’t think of a single instance where she’d even interacted with the leader since her initiation three years ago and even then she flew under the radar. 

Eric was the faction’s notoriously tyrannical leader, rising through the ranks in record time at a young age, his quest for perfection often preceding his ability to be civil, and his reputation earned.

During initiation there were plenty of examples of Eric’s malice and she’d even heard a few additional things since working in intelligence but again, Harlie could count on one hand the number of times she had even been in the same room as him during intel meetings. The majority of the time her commanding officer Jake went. So this entire situation was puzzling.

People typically joined Dauntless because they were brave, fearless or determined, none of which Harlie could definitively use to describe herself at the moment. She was nervous, feeling smaller with each step.

The secretary for leadership, Rita, barely spares a glance as she approaches the desk. "Third room on the left,“ she instructs.

Harlie pauses outside the door, raising her hand with hesitation before knocking on the door and waiting for permission to enter.

"Come in,” Eric loudly articulates. Her hand fumbles on the knob, slowly turning and pressing forward then easing herself into the room. 

Eric remains immersed in his paperwork, as she enters the room and stands next to the chairs by his desk awaiting further command. 

“Sit," he orders without looking up from the stack of papers.

She lowers into the chair, rubbing her sweaty palms over her jeans and then folding them in her lap to keep from fidgeting.

"Harlow, you’ve been called here because I’d like to discuss your job performance.” Eric’s flat tone radiates indifference but his posture speaks differently.

Lifting her eyes, she swallows before speaking, "I prefer Harlie, sir." 

"Very well, Harlie.” The way he purposely rolls her name off his tongue doesn’t go unnoticed. She returns with a small smile as he leans back in his chair, his hands folded on his stomach.

“It’s come to my attention that you have the highest accuracy rate, even better than senior analysts which is why I’m going to switch you to my team.”

She softly laughs in disbelief. “I don’t know what to say except thank you, sir.”  

Unfolding from his seat, Harlie follows suit as he rounds the desk. “There’s no need to thank me. You’ve done the work. I expect you to report to the conference room first thing Monday morning for the briefing. I’ve already sent over the files and notified Jake of the change.”

His blue eyes penetrating hers, making her feel as if she might melt but she manages a small nod. Confusion only multiplies when he politely waves towards the door, and escorts her. Stopping in the frame to look down at her, “If you require any additional information, just contact Rita and she’ll be able to provide you with almost anything you need.”

“Yeah, I mean yes. Absolutely,” she turns to peer down the hallway. “Again. Thank you,” she stumbles yet his face is stoic as if he doesn’t notice. Walking down the hall doesn’t provide much relief, she didn’t want to turn around to confirm but she felt as if his eyes were still on her. Working with Eric would be a challenge, in more ways than one.  

Working for Eric was exactly what she expected, challenging. There was a part of her that enjoyed working closely with the leader. At first it was nerve-racking always waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under her or bated breath for some insult but neither came. He was actually rather quiet which was surprising. 

If there was a downside to now working on Eric’s team it was Connor. There was no attempt on his part to hide his dissatisfaction with Harlie’s appearance as it clearly threatened his status. Today’s briefing was no exception as a small group gathered to work on plans for an upcoming factionless raid. 

Harlie stood before the group to share intel as Eric watched from the side while she spoke, "In these clips you will notice splicing of footage in some cases used as a loop while they’ve disabled our camera or completely erasing footage all together. I believe the latest information suggests they’ve gotten ahold of their own equipment or even have someone inside Dauntless covering their tracks for them."  

"Unlikely,” Connor snorted, looking back to Jack and Max sitting at the far end of the table. The sound of Connor’s pencil pivoting on the table was almost as annoying as his undermining comment. 

Harlie opens her mouth to protest but stops once she notices the shift in Eric’s demeanor, arms now folded across his chest and chin raised as he challenges, “Why is that?”

Connor straightens his back once he realizes he’s now on the spot. “Well anyone working in security has undergone extensive training to use the equipment, this person is sloppy, I mean look at the poor splicing,” he claims, pointing back to the screen to further his point. 

Eric’s head tilts in thought as he slowly walks to Connor seated at the table. Harlie shifts as her stomach sinks, fearing Eric was going to side with Connor.  

With a slight shrug Eric rebuts, “Well it’s not unheard of, we’ve had traitors before. If that’s proven to be the case we’ll just adjust accordingly to ensure it doesn’t happen again. As for the sloppy nature I don’t think that’s valid.” His hand falling to grip Connor’s shoulder and squeezing, “I mean it’s also not uncommon for people to make mistakes when they’re rushed. Isn’t that right Connor?" 

His head snapping up to the leader still clutching onto him, Harlie’s eyes widen, on edge as the two continue to stare.

Eric suddenly yanks Connor’s chair back, spinning it around before bending at the waist and placing his hands on the arms of the chair to pin Connor, making sure he’s at eye level.

 "I didn’t hear you?” he snarls. The color drains from Connor’s face but he doesn’t flinch.

“Yes, sir." 

Eric smiles at the answer but there’s no mistaking the lack of sincerity. 

"Everyone else out,” he barks, straightening while he waits for the room to clear.  

Harlie trails behind Jack and Max, flinching when the door slams followed by the sound of furniture scraping the floor. 

His proximity felt intentional, beyond the pair of them finalizing plans for the upcoming scheduled raid. His fingers purposely graze hers as he leans in, pointing at the map causing Harlie to sheepishly pull away, feeling ridiculous for allowing herself to even feel worked up over Eric. Sure Eric was easily the most attractive man she knew but that in itself wasn’t why her little crush was absurd, aside from being so unattainable and out of her league, Eric was her boss. 

His jaw flexing as he concentrated on the map was an utter distraction for Harlie, as she idly thumbs through the paperwork, poorly attempting to appear busy. Lately at home, Harlie would imagine kissing every inch of his jawline, starting from the square of his jaw and working her way down. She feels small when her eyes flit up to find his steely blue ones, clearing her throat as she turns away in embarrassment. 

“We’ve been at this awhile, perhaps we should take a break?” he suggests with a sigh of frustration. 

A knock at the door steals Harlie’s response and Eric barks, “What?" 

Rita appears apologetic as she peeks in through the cracked door, "I’m sorry to interrupt but Harlie’s husband is on the phone. It’s an emergency." 

Eric’s brow lowers as Harlie slowly stands, glancing to him for approval. He nods and she follows Rita out the door. 

Without hesitation he pulls up her personal file on the computer, quickly scanning the content and stiffening at the word married. His lip twitches once he clicks on her husband’s profile, his name was Jace Stone, Dauntless born, and he worked as an engineer. 

Her demeanor has shifted upon her return.

Eric closes out the screens, cursing himself for the distraction with Jace’s profile and never completing hers. Harlie was the best analyst and it was why she was transferred to his team but over time the stolen glances were more frequent. Sure her work ethic was respectable, but it was her attention to detail and logic that initially caught his attention, and after that it was the little nuances of her existence. The way she quietly giggled to herself when working and found something funny, the scrunch of her nose with the first sip of coffee, and the glint of her eye when she had an idea, but most of all it was her unwavering loyalty which there were countless examples of over their course of working together.

Eric knew how others perceived him but his loyalty never faltered when it came to protecting this faction or the others when necessary. His trust wasn’t easily earned and yet Harlie effortlessly possessed it. Perhaps it was better this way, loyalty was of utmost value to him and now there was no way for it be sullied with involvement. 

It didn’t mean his jaw didn’t tick in annoyance. Angry at himself for getting caught up in her, his knuckles whiten as he grips the back of office chair, forcefully pushing it into the desk with a slam. Harlie doesn’t stir from her slumped position over the large table in the center of his office. 

"Break is over,” he bites, internally cringing for being unnecessarily harsh. 

Pulling herself upright, she continues to fixate on the map with a somber tone, “I know, I’m sorry.”

He plucks out the chair next to her, settling back in but can’t fight the nagging feeling, urging him to ask, “Do you need to leave?” He catches her head shake from the corner of his eye. 

“I’m sure Connor would love to take your place.”  

Harlie’s eyes squeeze shut at the mere mention of the name. Eric doesn’t bother to look up, he knows it was the wrong thing to say and yet he was hell-bent on pursuing it.

“It was about my grandmother. She’s gravely ill and it’s just a hard pill to swallow since she raised me,” she confesses while still studying the map.  

Eric grunts, the chair squeaking as he leans back and she insists, “I know, Eric. Faction before blood." 

Dropping his pen at her brusque reply, her eyes travel up to meet his cold glare. 

"Let’s just get this done,” she huffs dismissively. It was the first time she’d ever looked at him with contempt. 

“Go see her,” he blurts out, surprising himself. 

Harlie’s shoulders only slump at the suggestion, “It’s not that simple. She’s in Candor and we’re still weeks away from Visiting Day." 

Eric bumps his knee into hers, causing her to finally look up from their plans with a knowing expression, her disregard only provoking him as he raises a brow in defiance. 

"Lucky for you I’m in charge and can make exceptions,” he begins but she interjects.

“I could never ask that.”

“I know and so I’m doing it for you. I have to head to Candor tomorrow and you’ll accompany me,” his tone leaving no room for argument. Harlie bites her tongue as he smirks in victory.  

His face falls, slipping back to neutral, remembering one more detail, “Bring your husband.”

“Why?” her façade coils in confusion, “He’s never met her." 

"Just an offer. Now that this is settled shall we?” he motions back to the table with Harlie smiling as her head drops. 

__________

Harlie feels as if she’s been punched in the gut when the camera feed cuts out. Without sparing a glance from the screen she yells, “Four!" 

His fingers are already frantically punching the keys trying to render the camera feed back into the screen. While the monitors were still blank, Eric’s microphone was still working to capture every sound, each altercation, gunshot, shriek or groan amplified by the crackling of the microphone.

“We’ve been hacked,” Four wearily admits.

Harlie’s leg bounces as she remains forward, willing the screens on and Eric’s silence wasn’t comforting. The possibility that she may have inadvertently killed a leader nagging in the back of her mind couldn’t be squelched. It would be easier if it were a two-way radio even if Eric would be angry with their interference.

“Please,” she quietly repeats to the blankness. The strokes from the keyboard are almost as loud as the movements from the microphone, Max and Jack shifting in their chairs.

“There’s no way to bypass their interruption into the feed?” Max questions right as there’s an explosion. Harlie steps back, lowering onto the top of the conference table, mentally going over every inch of her and Eric’s plan, not that either one could have predicted the factionless hijacking the camera.

Suddenly Eric’s unmistakable voice breaks through, “Mission complete.” The room breathes a collective sigh of relief. Harlie feels heavy, motionless on the table, plastering on a fake smile as Max and Jack congratulate her, Four only nodding before he trails out of the room behind the men.

Fishing out her tablet, she sends a message to Jace to inform him drinks at The Missionary were a requirement tonight, agreeing to meet him there after she finished her paperwork.

As promised, Jace and Brett were waiting for her with Steph behind the bar, shots lined up along the rail ready for consumption. Harlie smiles as Jace wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her in. 

He delivers a soft kiss to her shoulder, eyeing her short black racer-back t-shirt dress.

He smiles deviously as he whispers, "Someone plans on getting laid tonight." 

"I can only hope!” she giggles, picking up a shot and her friends follow suit. 

“That reminds me, I can’t stay long because my piece is ending his shift soon,” Jace picks up a shot before cheering, “To drunk sex!" 

After a few more, Harlie starts to feel the stress of her day melt away. A night out with friends was long overdue and Steph made sure they were well taken care of, the perks of having a close friend bartend. 

"Hey, are you Harlie?" 

She twists to find a pair of rich brown eyes and a playful smile, feeling bold she lets her eyes linger down his body before answering, "Yes.”

The man licks his lips before replying, “I’m Devin, one of the soldiers on today’s mission. I’d love to buy the woman behind the plan a drink." 

Brett nudges her, and casts a glance to see the two guys slinking off to a table. She smiles back at Devin, "Alright.”

Conversation was fun and flirty; Devin was the typical Dauntless guy which Harlie was content with for the evening. As the evening drew out, the touches became more enticing as their bodies gravitated towards one another and now Devin’s teeth were grazing her lobe. She leans into his pull, almost in a trance by the sensations he’s awakening within her, distracting her enough that she never even notices her friends leaving or Eric approaching the table.

He loudly clears his throat but neither seems to notice, rolling his eyes with disgust, “Don’t let me interrupt." 

Her head snaps back to spot Eric peering down at them. She fans herself as a small blush creeps up her neck, shifting nervously. Devin slowly catches on to the uninvited guest.

"We need to go back to the office and finished some paperwork,” he orders as she slowly shakes her head.

“No,” she dismisses. “I finished all of it before heading out." 

"I wasn’t asking,” his tone clipped, reaching out for her arm but she shrugs away. Devin jumps to his feet only to freeze once Eric delivers a pointed glare and snarls, “Go!”

"No! Don’t listen!” Harlie begs, slapping off Eric’s hand as Devin hightails it. “Damn it!” She sulks back in her chair only to be jerked upright. 

“Let go of me!” Her pleas fall on deaf ears as he drags her towards the exit, Harlie continuously slapping his hand with each step they take until he lets her go and she stumbles forward into the dark hallway. 

Infuriated, she whips around and immediately steps up to Eric, pressing her hands into his chest and shoving but he doesn’t budge. 

“Done?" 

Harlie crosses her arms and pouts; Eric has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at her ridiculous behavior. 

"Why are we here?” she questions with animosity, no doubt still upset with Eric’s intrusion.

“I was stopping you from making a mistake." 

She scoffs, "And that was?”

“What do you mean? You were all over that guy!” he laments, chest heaving. 

“That’s the fucking point Eric!” she replies, raking her face in confusion at his outrage. 

“Aren’t you married?" 

His question causes Harlie to burst out in laughter, covering her mouth as she tries to stop. 

"Have you even met Jace?” she asks while wiping a stray tear. “No, I didn’t think so. After a few bad roommates we decided to move in together but knew we’d get a better place if we were married. It’s strictly a marriage of convenience." 

No sooner as the words are out, Eric pounces, gripping the nape of her neck as he crashes his lips into hers and forces her back to the wall, his tongue parting her lips to explore her mouth, pressing his body against her. Eric tugs her hair, breaking their kiss with eyes still closed as he provides space. Harlie’s fingers touch her lips, stunned as she drills holes into him, willing him to open his eyes which he does with his tongue slowly dancing along his lip.

"Holy shit,” she murmurs, watching his chest heave as he struggles to regain his breath. 

“If you want to take someone home,” he swallows, “take me." 

Her eyes widen at his confession, still pleasantly surprised with the turn of events. A slow grin spreads, "Only if you kiss me like that again." 

His lip quirks, "Deal." 

#mine #my fic #eric divergent #eric fanfic #eric fanfiction #eric coulter #divergent fanfiction #divergent fic #jai courtney #jaicourtneyfic #jai courtney fanfiction #never again #please don't make me #lol

[fy-soukoku]

The Holy City - Ch. 2

The monitor leaves a scar. Not just on his neck, but in his heart. He is careful where he steps As threads begin to pull apart His life is forever changing But this will only be the start.

“I’m sorry, honey.” The nurse says, her palm pressing into the dip between Atsushi’s shoulder blades. The boy shivers as another burst of AC sweeps over his arms, and presses his cheeks against the padded operation table.

“It’s alright.” He manages. “I knew what I was doing.”

He’s certain that right now they are packing his room up, preparing to send him to the slums of the city. Whether that involves a foster family or not, he will no longer be a part of the Elite. He’ll be a regular citizen.

He hears the drilling before he feels it, the sharp, hot pain pressing into the nape of his neck. His body stiffens along with the nurse’s hand as the drill touches the monitor on his neck.

He screams.

----

“Mr. Nakajima...” The man sits down across from him, his hair pressed crisp and neat, his suit immaculate. Probably pressed and ironed just for this meeting, if the smell was anything to judge by. “Citizen Q1776.” He’s reading from a blue tablet, the size of his palm. “You are aware of what you’ve done, correct?”

Atsushi nods. The man watches him with steel gray eyes. They’re not soft or luminous, they’re as harsh as stone, cutting into his chest with practiced precision.

“Please state for the record what you have confessed to doing.” A woman in a similar suit holds out a recorder, the green button shining against the dull colours of the living room.

Atsushi sighs, “I knowingly aided a known criminal in his escape, giving him food and a place to sleep. My sponsors had no part or knowledge in the incident.”

The woman nods, clicking the device off, causing it to blink red. She holds up the small tablet, which is showing a steady heartbeat. “Monitor says he’s telling the truth.”

“Alright.” The man nods. He places a hand on the table. “Atsushi Nakajima, I am Officer Nakano.” His eyebrows knit together. “I hope that you understand that though you are under the age of sixteen, and thus cannot be sent to the Center, you still need to be punished.”

Atsushi nods. His hair falls in front of his eyes, temporarily obstructing his vision. “Yes sir.” Better to be soft and compliant than to put up a huge fuss.

Officer Nakano nods. “Alright.” His fingers slide over the scrollbar on his tablet. “Well, first off, you will be stripped of your Elite privileges, and enrolled in a normal school curriculum.”

Atsushi nods, slow but steady. His breathing shakes slightly. “Does that mean...”

“We’ll schedule a surgery to remove the monitor by tomorrow,” He says, and though his smile is sympathetic, his eyes remain steely and cold. “After all, only the Elite are allowed to have them.”

Atsushi can’t speak, his words lodged in his throat.

Nakano rises. “Well, we will make the arrangements to take you to a new home. Anything else before we’re off?”

Atsushi stares at the virtual candle at the dining room table. It flickers with synthetic flames, a perfect replication despite the lack of warmth. He flicks his eyes up to the two officers. “I don’t regret it.” He answers.

Nakano looks at him, a blank slate. Atsushi wants to paint some sort of expression on his face - anger, preferably.

“Noted.” The Officer says.

----

“Just stay here for another twenty minutes so we know you don’t go into shock,” The nurse tells him as his fingers wrap around the clean white bandage sloppily applied to his nape.

Atsushi nods numbly, sitting on the cheap blue waiting chair. To his right, Dr. Yosano is sitting at her desk, fingers typing on the silent pad of her desktop. Her dark hair is tucked back with a butterfly clip, her purple eyes focused intensely on the screen.

“Having a good day, Atsushi?” She suddenly asks. Atsushi jumps, whipping his head around to look at the woman. She’s still focused on her screen, but still managing to talk to him.

“Seriously?” He blurts out. Immediately, he claps his hands onto his mouth and gasps. “I am so sorry, Yosano-san!”

“I’m surprised you’re not relieved.” She simply says, waving off his embarrassment.

“Why would I be relieved?” Atsushi asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re not on their leash anymore,” She explains. “You’re as free as you get in this damn society.”

Atsushi frowns, spreading his fingers and watching them flex as if in a new light. She’s right, He realizes. For the first time, I can think and feel and do with no one poking around in my brain.

“Can’t they hear you?” Atsushi asks, waving up at the ceiling where the microphones were usually installed.

“Patient confidentiality.” She rolled her eyes. “As if they actually believe in that, but I pushed for it.” She suddenly rose, smoothing her skirt in the front. “I need to get my papers. I’m sure you can handle yourself?” She smirked, winking over her shoulder.

Atsushi nodded, listening to her footsteps fade.

For the first time, he saw this as a blessing in disguise.

----

He goes back to school, but outside of the Gifted courses. It’s almost nice, except that no one seems to view him as worthy of their attention anymore. He’s alone every second of the day, his shoulders bunching up as he felt icy words pierce his back, jeers and taunts about his degraded status.

Except for Lucy. She would find Atsushi everyday once school was over, smiling and quietly chatting about their day. It was nice to know that a change in Standing doesn’t affect their relationship - that Lucy was above caring of those things.

On her thirteenth birthday, she invites him over. They listen to stories from her grandma underneath the swinging lamplight, watch shadows dance as the sun sinks lower. Sweetness lingers on the roof of their mouths, from strawberry cupcakes smeared with cheap frosting. He spends the night in the spare room, under warm quilts and on a padded bed, his eyes fluttering shut as soon as his head hits the soft pillow.

He dreams of black diamonds.

----

He is sixteen when he comes to terms with his new way of life.

He finds his environment in a small workroom, one with air conditioning and a row of monitors that line the end. He finds a way to pass time in wheeling around in a desk chair, smelling cheap coffee that has been filtered through poor equipment, resentment wafting through the air day in and day out. It’s not perfect, it’s no life in the Uppers, but it’s the best he can do with so little prospects.

His coworker is a fairly nice man in his late twenties. When Atsushi had arrived with his official assignments, he had held out a calloused hand and opened up a cracked smile, saying, “Takeda. It’s nice to have someone here.”

Takeda is usually in the corner, checking park temperature regulation. Atsushi distracts himself with zooming in and out on the monitors, making sure the sprinklers are working according to protocol. The grass looks as emerald green as ever, which is satisfying for his end of the day report.

He clicks on camera five, sighing as he zooms in on the artificial cherry tree that stands by the fountain. Nobody has been over there for a while, which is always a bit of a red light for degraded plant life.

Is this really what my life is like? He wonders, watching pixels grow blurry, squinting his eyes to see a sign of anything out of the ordinary.

He freezes on one particular spot, a splash of gray on an otherwise flawless canvas. He looks over at Takeda, who is adjusting temperatures for the evening shift.

“Takeda-san,” He calls watching the man turn his head, his dark skin glinting under the lights. “Can you check this out? I can’t be sure.. But...”

Takeda rolls his eyes. “It’s probably nothing. Probably some kids playing a prank.” Atsushi frowns at that, but he puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “But it’s good you brought it up.” He leans over the desk, setting his mug down, eyes flickering over the screens.

“But that does look...” He mutters, and drags the keyboard closer, fingers flicking with precision over each key in swift strokes.

“What is it?” Atsushi asks, a little breathless. It’s not an exciting job that he has been blessed with, so this is the most joy he’s had in a good while.

“I’ll send one of the bots to this area.” He’s frowning now, black eyebrows knit together from thought. “I’m a little reluctant to say this is a fluke right now...”

Atsushi bites his lip as the robot’s monitor flickers to life, showing them its lens. A blur of green and white whisks by as it flies through the streets, only slowing down as its destination grows near.

“Alright, let's just... slowly approach...�� Takeda mutters, moving the bot towards the mysterious shape.

As the camera looms over the area, Atsushi feels his heart beat faster. That... that looks like...

A chill shoots down his spine, crawling over his arms and making him lose his grip on the computer mouse.

It’s a dead body.

----

Atsushi walks home, rubbing his forehead. Lucy looks at him worriedly.

“Are you okay?” Her shoulder brushes against his, the casual intimacy something he has not noticed until this very moment.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Her eyes cut through the gray of the cloudy sky, sea foam sparkling in the immaculate street lights. “I know you well enough. You’re rubbing your forehead, which means you have a headache, and you only get headaches when you’re stressed.”

Atsushi pushes down the urge to groan at her words. Logically, he knows that he can’t keep anything from Lucy, but he just wishes he could.

“Sorry, it’s just that you’re leaving for another City tomorrow, and...” He shrugs. “I don’t really talk to anybody but you.”

She raises an eyebrow, telling Atsushi that she doesn’t believe him, but nods anyway. “We can still message each other.”

Yeah, but it’s not the same. Atsushi thinks. And it really isn’t. He’s talked to Lucy through screens, her face pixelated and unrecognizable from the poor connection. Her voice becomes static, her eyes blurry, and he can’t hear the tinge of amusement she seems to always carry around.

She stops them, placing a hand on his arm. He almost flinches. When did we touch each other this much? He wonders.

“Atsushi, can I ask you something?” She says, her voice shifting to a low volume, attempting to be discreet with their interaction. A security guard looks their way, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, they open up the tablet in their hand and surf through, no doubt looking for their citizen identification numbers.

“Sure, Lucy.” He answers, his tone relaxed despite the stiffness now spreading through his body. “I mean, you technically did, but...”

She shoots him an unamused stare, causing him to snap his mouth shut.

“Can we....” She gulps, audible in the silent streets. “I want your sperm.” She sputters.

Atsushi flinches, taking a step back. “What?”

Lucy flushes camellia, and waves her hands in panic. “Wait, that came out wrong!”

“Lucy, what are you...” Her hands cup his cheeks and suddenly he feels warm lips against his.

He doesn’t know what to do, his mind freezes up the second he feels her hands on him. Because something about this is so wrong. It’s all so wrong.

He gently pries her off, his hands pushing her shoulders away with a dread gnawing in the pit of his stomach.

“Lucy...” He trails off as she suddenly rolls her eyes.

“I know you don’t feel the same way, Atsushi.” She scoffs, stepping back and crossing her arms. It’s defensive, her hiding her emotions. Atsushi recognizes it from the first day of Primary School, when she had approached him for friendship, the lights glimmering off of the braces that framed her white teeth. “I just had to do that before I left.”

Atsushi opens his mouth to speak, and she scowls, placing her hand over his mouth. “Just... shut up, okay?”

He nods, numb despite her nails scratching her cheek. “Call me, okay? You’re still my only friend.” It sounds pathetic leaving his lips, but he’s willing to be pathetic if it means salvaging whatever platonic relationship he and Lucy have. Because as much as he loves Lucy, he doesn’t love her. Not like that.

“I’ll do that.” She says, slinging her bookbag over one shoulder. “And take care of yourself, alright? Don’t let them take you down.” She smiles at him, though it’s pulling at the seams and about to break. Atsushi grimaces inwardly, having been the one to pull the thread loose in the first place.

Atsushi nods. “Video me before you leave?”

She’s already turning away, the lights of the city sparkling over the stone road like a mosaic, a rainbow that curves into a path for the redhead, that will separate them for the next four years. But he thinks he catches the affirmation, though it is whisked away by the wind, and he can never be sure.

Atsushi sighs, rubs his hand over his forehead, trying to subdue the headache that slowly crackles through his head, threatening to split open his skull.

He feels a nudge on his toe, looking down to see a small mouse nudging the black of his shoes. It’s tiny, with gray fur and beady little eyes.

“You’re still as hopeless as ever, aren’t you?”

Atsushi freezes. Not because the mouse just talked. Because even if that had happened it would have been less of a shock than the voice that traveled to his ears from the ground up.

“Akutagawa?” He stutters.

“Yeah, took you a bit. I’ve been waiting for that conversation to be over for almost half an hour.” The voice - no, not voice, Akutagawa - sounds irritated. Like a sharp edge under an illusion of smooth glass.

“Why are you...” He bends down when he realizes he probably looks like a lunatic. Well, their opinion can’t get any lower, I suppose. He notes, but moves his face close to the creature. “Have you been watching me?”

“That doesn’t matter,” He cuts in. “What’s important is that you need to be careful. This city keeps its eyes on everything, and the second you show even the slightest disloyalty, they’ll do whatever it takes to get rid of you.”

Atsushi tries to control the rise in his breathe, the trouble that rises in his throat like sour bile. These words sound too much like Yosano-san had once told him, back when he was twelve and having his monitor pulled out.

They both talked like the city was a cage, like it was something dangerous and manipulative to be in. As if treading on its ground was like walking amongst eggshells, as if cutting your foot meant exposing your blood to the sick, tainted air and becoming infected by its sin.

“Akutagawa, what are you on about. Nobody’s been hurt by the city before.”

“Look, I don’t have time to deal with your naive views. This city is dangerous. Be careful, Atsushi.” With that, a click resounds through the air, and the mouse scrambles away on it’s scrawny paws, dancing between the rocks with grace and ease.

Atsushi stares after the mouse’s path, aware of footsteps behind him. His shoulder tenses as a hand lands on his shoulder.

“Are you alright, son?” An officer, tall and well-built, with blue eyes and tanned skin. His eyebrows furrow in worry, which would be heartwarming were it not accompanied by suspicion.

“I’m fine,” He smiles up at the man, knowing full well his skill with faking emotions. “Just lost in thought.”

The man nods, patting the dip between his shoulders. “Best run off to your house, kid. Almost curfew.” His finger accidentally grazes the back of his neck, his thumbnail scratching against the rugged scar that sits on his nape. It sends a shiver down his spine.

He thanks the officer, gathering up his thoughts and jogging towards the street he knows will lead to his home. His head pounds as his feet clap on the ground, and his nails dig into the soft flesh of his palm as his heart thunders as he realizes:

Everything will be changing soon.

#shin soukoku #atsushi nakajima #ryuunosuke akutagawa #bungou stray dogs #bsd fic #my writing #the holy city

[ecotone99]

[MS] One of my strangest cases

My name is Police Chief Brian Morrison. I started as a patrol officer in 1978 and retired in February of 2020. I was the police chief of a small beach town on the East Coast of Florida. Orange Grove Island was the name of the city. It was North of Daytona Beach (between Daytona Beach and St. Augustine) but a quiet town for the most part. The town didn't allow for large condos or building above four stories high to be built. That kept the town character rather quaint.

I was married back in the 1980's and then divorced. I have two grown children and three grandchildren. I remarried back in 1990. Sadly my second wife Sally died in 2004. Totally unexpected. For the past several years I've dated a woman who lives in Penscola. We have a long distance relationship. Because of Covid-19, we talked on the computer or on the phone. Haven't seen her since March. My kids like her which is good.

Since the early 1980's, some anonymous person has sent a variety of audio tapes, VCR tapes and DVD tapes with a note saying that crimes has been committed and stuff that was being sent was connected. They were sent to several law enforcement agencies up and down the Eastern Seaboard of Florida. Most of the people on the tapes couldn't be identified.

Now that I'm retired and Covid-19 has basically confined me to my house, I decided to take a second look at these audio tapes, VCR and DVD tapes. Several agencies threw away these audio tapes, VCR tapes and DVD recordings. My uncle kept them and gave them to me shortly after he retired. He really didn't know to make of them as no actual crime was spoken of or recorded. I had heard some of the recordings when he first got them back in the day.

Most of the audio tapes are of private conversations of citizens about very mundane things. A few of the conversations I recognized the voices. One of them was rather amusing. It was the first audio tape that was sent in April of 1982. Clara Matthews was about 80 years old in 1982. She was at her home which was right on the beach talking with her best friend Florence Gray about an orchestra concert that Orange Grove College put on. Her grandson played the clarinet in the Orchestra.

For those who don't know, Orange Grove college is a private Episcopalian college. About 1, 000 students, many of whom are in the orchestra. Robert Hall is Clara Matthew's grandson. I knew him as we attended the same high school, Orange Grove High.

"I really enjoyed going with you to the concert Clara. Robert did so well."

"I know he did very well. I know that he was pretending not to look at me but I know he was."

"Well, Clara you were whispering to me rather loudly during the performance."

"I wasn't that loud, Florence, I mean really."

I had to laugh when I would think of their conversations. Their voices carried. I lived next door from Clara, so I often heard the conversations that she had with Florence. The two women passed on decades ago.

Robert Hall played the clarinet and he recently retired from the Kansas City Orchestra after many years playing there.

The family had a good reputation. I tried to figure out what crime was committed. Maybe the person didn't like classical music, didn't like how Robert played the clarinet or maybe the person was jealous of Robert. I remember my uncle saying this.

We both laughed about this one but it was wasting the time and resources of the law enforcement agencies. Because it was labeled evidence of possible crime, the agencies that got it had to investigate to see if this was the case. It was nearly 10 years before the law enforcement agencies realized that other agencies were getting the same thing.

One of the VCR tapes which was made back in 1989 was leaked to a tabloid magazine who had a field day with it. Everyone knew that Monica Snowden was probably going to make it big as an actress. She had talent and was in many local plays. Rock Star Kevin Press had gone to the little dinner theater in 1984 and had seen Monica perform in the play Snow White. She had just graduated from high school but didn't know what to do with her life.

She ended up being a dancer in several music videos and they got married two weeks after her 18th birthday. Kevin was 26 years old. The marriage lasted 5 years and produced twin daughters. The video recording was secretly done. Kevin and Monica were separating and they were at her grandmother's home talking. Both were sitting at a table across from each other. Both were quite upset with each other.

"I'm going to tell everyone in your family's church what you did Monica. Do 'want me to do that? You weren't some sweet innocent virgin when we got married. I tell them that we sleep together before we were married. I'm sure they already know this, but they pretend like they don't.

"You know Kevin, I don't care if you do. I'm sure they already know that. You told everyone on nationwide TV about it."

That I do remember. My then wife Karen liked to watch one of the late night shows and Kevin made a comment about it. Monica couldn't stop laughing but I could tell she was mortified. A couple of weeks later, they split up due to his cheating.

They argued about his cheating. Kevin blamed her for his cheating. She wasn't having any of it and they had a rather heated but surprisingly civil discussion about it (they didn't cuss each other out or call each other names). It was Monica that happened to notice people on the beach had gathered and had listened to most of their arguing. She went back into the house as did Kevin.

Someone had called concerned about a verbal argument between them. When I responded to the call, Kevin was still at the house. I've been to many domestic disturbances. I asked the usual questions and determined it was a verbal dispute and there was no violence.

Everyone had to put their two cents in after this VCR tape was released. It wasn't aired on TV but people got copies of it. The tape didn't include me going into the house but did include me talking to Kevin in front of the house.

Two days later, Kevin called me on the phone as I had left my business card. He was upset about the VCR tape. I already knew about it because it had been sent to our agency by a concerned citizen. I decided not to tell him this.

"What about the people that gathered on the beach near Monica's grandmother's home when you were arguing? One of them could have filmed you. It wouldn't be too difficult and secondly you were out in a public where you could be filmed from a public place. I know that they weren't locals. I have no idea who they were."

I found out later from Monica that they had tried to find out who had sent out this VCR tape and were never able to do so. Technically this wasn't a crime as the person who did it didn't come on the property to film them.

Monica became an actress and did many TV shows and movie. A lot of the movies were family type movies as Monica was one who would not do R rated movies. She married a guy who played the drums in a progressive Christian rock band. This was probably more her style. She had three more children.

The VCR tapes like the audio tapes were of being doing mundane things. Most of the people I had no idea who they were. Again no criminal activity. The DVD's were the same except for one. The tape didn't involve criminal activity but involved some very upset people about a change in their college status. This involved Monica's twin daughters.

2016

Both daughters Stephanie and Vicky were art teachers at an arts and drama college in Maine. The school had been struggling financially and was being bought by a religious college known to be very conservative. The art school had been secular and basically the facility and the students weren't subject to being censored or told what they could or couldn't do. The college then would decide who they would hire. None of the facility or students knew this, so it was a shock.

A week later - Party at the art school

Stephanie and Vicky were talking about losing their jobs. The twins were very different. Stephanie marched to the beat of her own drummer. She had done art for various promotions of heavy metal bands. When her father had gone on tour during the summer, she had played the guitar. She often dressed like a woman who would be or hung up with a heavily metal band. Her art work was very edgy at times.

Vicky dressed more classically. Her art work was more conventional, not anything that would be controversial but the religious group found fault with her work.

Neither one of them was surprised when they heard they had been fired. In fact the religious group had fired the entire art staff as they didn't fit into their vision of the college. None of the 350 students were accepted into the college because they refused to sign a college student code.

At the party they had talked about this. Monica was at the party as was her father Kevin.

One of the students was sobbing.

"Stephanie, Vicky, I'm going to miss you."

"It's okay, Sally, It's okay. I'm going to hate to leave."

"Well, guys, I will be on tour with my dad playing the guitar in his band. I also will be doing the art work for the T-shirts for his band. My sister Vicky will be at her art gallery."

Everyone clapped and cheered. Then people went off in their own areas.

"You know Stephanie, you were really good when that radio host attacked your personally."said Monica.

"Mom, I know that he wanted me to get upset, cuss him out (he would have loved it if I did that) but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of it. "

"Oh, why didn't you, Stephanie. You're good at cussing.." said Kevin.

"Yea, I am. I'm already been called out by two pastors for having a mouth like a sailor. I cussed even more just to rattle them. Vicky also joined in. Poor mom, I'm embarrassed her.""

"Not really, I knew it was coming but Vicky I was rather surprised."

'Stephanie's a bad influence on me, what can I say?"

The rest of the tape showed clips from Stephanie touring with her father's band. A male voice was condemning her and the rest of the group at the art school.

I heard that Stephanie just laugh at it but Vicky was quite upset about it. Monica and Kevin had no comment. This one was put on youtube and quickly went viral.

That was the last audio tape, VCR tape and DVD that I received. About ten years ago the other agencies that were getting these tapes told me that they were going to trash them as no crimes were committed.

I never caught who was doing this. Again no crimes were committed so what was the motive of this person? The tapes were never mailed from the same place. All over the country. We had a few residences who were world travelers but they were older people.

Did this person think it was funny what they were doing? Were they taunting law enforcement? On one of the tapes, the voice which was altered had said that they got no money from this and weren't the person who released the tapes to the public.

I really believe that the person who was doing this had died. It's one case I will never solve.

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