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forthevillains · 3 months

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Ok so here’s my idea… came from a video where a man hires a “wife” and pretends to have a loving family in order to get a promotion from his boss. The “wife” decides to play along and even refuses to get paid for it. The man falls in love with her eventually cause she’s so kind to him.

So i was thinking… what if Wesker had to hire someone to be his significant other to attend a big event/party held by Umbrella? Then he fell in love with her? Imagine he was forced to participate but didn’t expect to meet his love in a boring party 😭

This sounds crazy and kinda cringe but this got me so excited lol

I wanted to write something like that for so long so I feel u! I added a few things to make it work in my head so I hope you don’t mind🫶 (I wrote this while being sick so if anything doesn’t make sense, I apologize)

It was a very important evening to all workers of Umbrella. Everyone was invited and well, the more known they were, the more important their presence would be. Everyone was allowed and not just that - they were expected to bring their other halves, significant others. Wesker wouldn’t care at first. He didn’t want to come anyway, he thought of it as a waste of time, so why should he care? Though when he tried to talk to Spencer, to convince him that he could use that time to work on the research instead, it was to no avail. All Spencer did was tell him to bring some girl too.

Wesker’s annoyance and anger got the best of him. If people thought of him as grumpy before, he’s become an absolute Satan now. Especially when he got to know that he’s to take a woman to the party. Why would he do that anyway? He doesn’t have one, he doesn’t need one, it all sounded so stupid. Is he supposed to find a girlfriend that quick only to dump her as soon as it’s over? No that would be even more stupid.

Wesker knew he had to appear eventually and if he was to do so, he needed someone to act as his partner. An act is all it has to be…

Suddenly an idea popped into his mind. A genius one to be exact. He never thought that he’d come to do something like that, but the opportunity like this could not be wasted. If he didn’t have a spouse, he would simply hire one. And who would be better for the job than someone he already knows? Someone who’s worked for him for a while undercover, someone who always gets the job done - you.

"What the fuck did you just say?!” You nearly choked on your coffee when Wesker informed you about the situation through the phone.

"Just one night, you’re going to act like a girlfriend of mine, be nice to whoever talks to you and at least pretend to have manners. That shouldn’t be a problem, right?” He explains once more, his lips curving into a wicked smile at your reaction. You two weren’t on best terms exactly, but he was willing to pay how much you asked and you were willing to do any filthy job for him. You worked perfectly fine, however only as partners at work.

"I’m an agent, Wesker, not some of your whor-“

"How much do you want, dear?“ he interrupted you. He knew you couldn’t say no to such an easy job. All you wanted was money and he was willing to deliver. So you agreed, though you knew he wouldn’t make it easy for you.

You two made the deal and of course, he wouldn’t let you drown in your own questions about the evening, so you were properly informed, even gifted what you were to wear.

For the whole evening you tried not to leave Wesker’s side. As if he’d let you anyway. You knew what Umbrella was and if you felt anything apart from disgust as you entered, hand in hand with the head researcher, it was curiosity. You were nervous, yet made sure to be observant. It was your first time in there, although you’ve been working with Wesker for a while.

It didn’t take much time for people to notice you, their gazes not leaving you for even a second as realization of who you’re there with hit them. Some of them whispered to each other, some just stared in a surprise. It’s not like anyone would expect Albert Wesker himself to be close to someone, especially in a romantic kind of way. He was a loner, someone who didn’t trust anybody apart from himself, who only talked to two people more than was necessary.

Soon you met a few other scientists and you could feel how Albert was tense as he held you, his arm around your waist, gripping onto you tightly whenever someone was talking to you. You looked at him each time he did that only to find out that he was paying you no other attention. Or so you thought.

It was only about time you let loose finding out that there was no catch as you might’ve thought at first. You’ve began to seek fun instead of possible threats. Though when you were ready to leave Albert’s side he only tightened his grip on you, stopping you immediately.

"What do you want now?” You raised an eyebrow.

"You’re staying here with me like a good loving girlfriend would,” Wesker immediately replied.

"Oh right… I should’ve expected that if you had a girlfriend you’d treat her like a dog.” Your words were harsh and inappropriate, but that was the way you are - honest whenever you could. And since no one could hear the two of you as you kept the distance, you said what was on your mind.

"How I would treat a woman is none of your concerns. You’re staying here.” What you didn’t know is that he wanted you by his side to avoid any unnecessary interaction with others. There were too many people that despised him and it wouldn’t be far from truth that he felt the same way towards them, if not even worse. He needed you, you were the most comfort he could have there even if you were just an agent who happened to work for him.

"Albert! I-I mean we have been looking for you.” It’s no surprise that William with his wife appeared, but it almost made you jump, which made them turn towards you. "And who is this?”

Wesker let you introduce yourself on your own, to make it more difficult for you, grinning at you the whole time. It was quite entertaining seeing you struggle with saying out loud that you’re his girlfriend. You surely needed a shot after that. And this time, he even let you go. Which was probably not the best idea. You didn’t get too drunk, but enough to be a little tipsy.

You roamed around like a lost puppy, telling yourself that you were looking for toilets, but deep inside you knew you just grew more curious knowing this place is free for you to explore without any restraints. However Albert never really let you out of his sight. His shades were very good at hiding his eyes so that no one knew he wasn’t listening to them at all, that he didn’t even look them in the eyes as he shook their hands. You were his girlfriend for the day and he would not risk anything knowing how much you loved to play games with him. Even though he loved it too…

When you disappeared in the hallway, he was right behind you, immediately pinning you to the nearest wall. "Where do you think you’re going, dearheart?”

You gasped at the impact and looked up at him. "I needed to pee,” you said.

Wesker looked you up and down, thinking whether to trust you or not. But no matter how hard he tried to do just that, his eyes got stuck on how beautiful the dress made you look, especially in the cleavage area.

"My eyes are up here, Wesker,” you frowned. You maybe couldn’t see his eyes but you sure felt his burning gaze on your skin and the way his head was tilted downwards also hinted where he was really looking.

"Really?” Now he looked into your eyes and you wished nothing more than to see his own in that moment. Drunk or not, you’d always appreciate Wesker when he wasn’t acting like a grumpy old man.

He leaned forward, his nose brushing against your cheek lightly, before he whispered "I apologize, my dear, I didn’t know.” His words sent shivers down your spine and you tried to make a step back, even though you were so close to the wall it almost hurt your back. That made him smirk.

Wesker was never a touchy person, but right now, after he had few glasses of wine himself, he couldn’t resist the way you looked, not only talking about how good you smelled. And you were all his, for this night at least. Before you got the chance to ask him what the hell is he doing, he gently kissed your cheek, his lips slowly moving towards your jaw. He found it adorable when you threw your head back to give him more access, sliding a hand to your lower back to support your trembling body.

"This wasn’t part of the deal,” you choked out, trying your best to not let out any sound of pleasure.

"I feel like this is what couples do, though. Don’t you think so too?” His mouth moved even lower, his tongue caressing your skin before he nibbled at your neck lightly, drawing another gasp out of you. He felt unprofessional, he was suddenly nothing but a man in need. How the hell did you taste so sweet?

He began to kiss your neck, too caught up in the moment, in how good you tasted. His teeth kept grazing your skin, over and over again, teasing you, leaving you scared whether he would sink them into your neck like a vampire or not. You didn’t even want to think about it, because if you did - you’d probably come to conclusion that you like it.

Though, instead of sinking his teeth into you, he sucked in your delicate skin, forcing a moan out of you. It flattered him, it really did. The way you squirmed in his arms, the way your heartbeat quickened, breath ragged and pupils dilated… He was too caught up in all that, he got carried away (or maybe he did it on purpose).

Suddenly an echo of steps could be heard and he was forced to pull away from you, as a few of his co-workers walked by, already giving the two of you disgusted looks. Wesker only nodded at them to get going before turning back to you.

"That was a mistake.” He spoke, breathless, one of his palms already on your cheek, gently caressing it. And it meant one thing - he didn’t mean the words. All of his actions sold him out. No matter what he’d say, it wouldn’t save him now. No matter how calm he acted.

You were a totally different case though, your head was dizzy and you couldn’t tell if what just happened was real or a dream. You felt like you were floating, but still, you nodded. "We should… get back,” you then muttered and tried to make a step forward, but your knees failed you and you almost fell to the ground. If it wasn’t for your boyfriend for the night who quickly caught you. "Sorry.” You only added. He couldn’t comprehend whether it was the alcohol or his doings that got you like that, but he somehow found it cute. But you could never know, he was too good at hiding his own feelings.

When you got back, it was all the same, except for a few details that you probably wouldn’t even be able to catch. Wesker’s hold on you was firm, yet gentle, his gaze kept drifting towards you as he scanned your body language to know if you’re alright. He was trying to see if the moment the two of you had did leave a mark on you only physically or also mentally. He wanted to know how you felt. But he wouldn’t dare ask, not in front of all these people. So he just waited for the end of the night. Only taking in how beautiful you looked, how well you talked your way out of all the questions even with alcohol in your system. He truly admired your talents, how well you worked with people. Though what he enjoyed the most was your warmth. Something he hasn’t felt for a while as he was a workaholic, with no time for lovers, not even affairs. He thought he didn’t need physical touch, but your body next to his felt perhaps too good.

Finally, it was over. You were able to say goodbyes to the very few people that dared approach you, before the two of you finally left the building, both glad it was finally over. The silence between you was uncomfortable, tense and even though you wanted to speak up, you were afraid of making it all just worse. You might’ve talked your way out of discussions about opinions on animal or human testing, but for sure you couldn’t find one good word in a conversation with the man beside you.

Only when you two entered the car, Wesker in driver’s seat and you in passenger seat, then he sighed in relief as it was just the two of you. And that alone made you speak up.

"Don’t say anything, whatever it is, I don’t wanna talk about it, I’m too done for that,” you say before he has the chance to say anything and for once he gives up, knowing that it must’ve been draining for you. Especially knowing that you hate special occasions and tight dresses. But you still did it, for him. And also for money, but that didn’t really seem that important to you as you’ve actually quite enjoyed his company (you wouldn’t admit it though).

Wesker started the car and let you be without any other words. He wanted to give you space after what happened and so he did. You were quick to fall asleep in your seat, making it easier for him to look at you without being seen at all. His eyes kept drifting towards your neck the most and it took all his self control not to grin at the hickeys. God did he want to do it again.

His first intentions were to bring you to your house and drop you off in there, but as you slept in the seat next to him, he changed his mind. You were going home with him whether you liked it or not. He paid you for the whole night anyway, so you couldn’t say a word against it even if you were awake.

If you were still asleep when he got home, he’d carefully take you in his arms and carry you all the way to his bed. You might wake up alone the next day, but you’d surely know who was the one to take care of you. And even though he wouldn’t dare admit any feelings towards you just yet, he’s surely going to be way more gentle with you from now on…

#albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #oneshot #resident evil #resident evil wesker #wesker x reader #wesker x you

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cloakedsparrow · 2 months

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Bat Family AU wherein it’s Janet Drake who survives the Obeah Man’s attack instead of Jack.

Tim’s already Robin, she’s in the coma, and all that. However, when she wakes up, things are a little different. She still buys the mansion next door to Wayne Manor, but she’s happy to accept any help Bruce wants to offer in regards to Tim so he can just say “I’m going to Bruce’s” and she’ll just check that he either did his homework or is bringing it with him. She doesn’t expect Tim to help with her treatment or transport and certainly doesn’t expect a fourteen year old to help out at Drake Industries.

She hires a physical therapist to visit the house every day (Dana, so she’s still a part of Tim’s life, if in a slightly smaller role). She still hires Mrs. Mac as their new maid. She also hires a driver, as well as a new COO to help her bring Drake Industries back after it had gone stagnant in her absence.

The twist? The COO is Talia Head (aka Talia al Ghul).

When Janet learns that Talia has two sons -one, barely a few years older than Tim, the other, a few years younger- she suggests they move into the mansion with them while Talia looks for a place (it works out well enough that they end up staying long-term). Talia introduces Bruce and Tim to Damian early (Jason initially hides out in her side of the mansion since he’s not ready to see Bruce yet and Talia is not forcing his hand on that). Damian is still a spoiled brat at first, but since they’re introduced as allies rather than rivals, Tim and Damian end up getting along great once he’s settled down a bit (and with Talia, Janet, and Jason working together to help him).

Talia killed the Joker upon moving to Gotham (no way was that clown getting near any of her boys again) so while Jason’s mad at Bruce, he still feels he has a parent who loved him enough to cross that line. It also helped to counter Shelia’s betrayal a little and balance out his feelings about parents overall, particularly his mother figures. One mother loved him and tried her best but was given a bad hand, another gave him up to the Joker to save herself some trouble, the last severed ties with her father (whose thumb she’d been under for hundreds of years) and risked the ire of the man she loved to protect him.

The younger boys (Tim & Damian) pretty much split their time between Wayne Manor and the Drake Mansion.

Which gives Janet and Talia plenty of time to build up Drake Industries and take over the Court of Owls on the side.

Instead of making/controlling the talons as the previous Court did, they put them to rest and just send Jason or a few of Talia’s trusted assassins (including Pru, who came to Gotham with her) to fill in the role.

Jason learns more about how and why Tim became Robin this time, so while he’s still pissed at Bruce, he doesn’t take any of it out on the Boy Wonder or anyone else. He even helps with Tim’s training (and his English homework). Jason still takes over a good portion of the Gotham drug/arms circuit and gets to do his big dramatic reveal to Bruce/Batman after fucking with him a bit, only it’s as Talon. His new plan is more of a Bat-level EXTRA guilt trip that keeps going on even after he’s started accompanying his little brothers to the Manor. And he’s a little more focused on protecting his little brothers.

Until Jason decided he wanted the do said big dramatic reveal, Bruce had no idea that the Court of Owls was real or that Janet and Talia had taken it over. He knew something had shifted in Gotham, some cases were going too easily and someone was taking out certain threats before they could become an issue. He’d be working under the theory that there was a new vigilante in town.

It had honestly been driving him a little nuts that he couldn’t find them -that’s part of why Jason decided they needed to get everything out in the open, it was stressing out Tim & Dami.

Neither Janet nor Talia will bow to Bruce’s wishes regarding anything, and he won’t bow to theirs, so the three of them end up working together as equals in a way Bruce doesn’t usually do. He ends up actually liking it, as it makes life a lot less stressful when he isn’t assuming full responsibility for everything and everyone around him.

Alfred, Clark, and Diana have each thanked Janet and Talia in their own way. Dick thanked Janet but he still doesn’t like Talia.

When Cass enters the picture, she gets two honorary moms, Babs gets to just be the cool big sister without all the extra stress, Jason, Tim, and Damian are immediately her adorable little brothers who would totally kill for her, and Bruce is a notably less emotionally constipated control freak, so she has a much easier go of everything.

Cass stabbed some asshole in the throat?

Talia: “It’s isn’t as though he died, Beloved. And good job not getting blood all over your new suit, Cassandra, dear.”

Janet: “It was HIS knife, Bruce. She was defending herself. I don’t know about you, but I would certainly prefer that Cassie comes home in one piece over her being more gentle with the criminals you encourage her to confront.”

Jason: “What, you’d rather have ANOTHER dead kid on your conscience, old man? Then maybe stop sending KIDS out to do your dirty work while expecting them to hold back against MURDERERS, PSYCHOPATHS, and TERRORISTS. Good job, Cass.”

Damian: “Tcht, she didn’t even do any permanent damage, Father.”

Tim: “Cass knew what she was doing. Aside from the visceral shock, is it really that different from hitting someone in the head hard enough to knock them unconscious? He’ll probably have less long-term damage than those henchmen you took out Tuesday night.”

Babs: “Oh, did the poor child murderer get hurt? We aren’t all in this to make ourselves feel good, Bruce. Some of us want RESULTS. Good Job, Cass. I brought some of that ice cream you liked. It’s in the freezer upstairs.”

Dick: “So, no one died; a child’s life was saved, plus any future victims if he’d gotten away tonight; two unsolved murders have been solved, so their families at least get some closure; the killer is in the hospital, under the GCPD’s watch, breathing on his own and there was no permanent damage done to his esophagus or vocal chords. What’s the problem, here, B?”

Alfred: “Forgive me, but has anyone explained the rules to Miss Cassandra beyond ‘no killing’? Because if not, then I do believe she was merely following the rule while using her skill to it’s most effectiveness. Why would she have used a series of blows to line him up for a nerve strike or knockout when she could disarm him and incapacitate him with one swift move?”

Bruce: “Alright, alright. You’ve all made your point. Obviously, we need to have a sit-down to discuss methods and motives and come to an agreement. In the meantime, I’m glad you’re alright, Casandra. And good job saving that child’s life tonight. Why don’t you get changed and take your ice cream to one of the dens upstairs to relax?”

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pigeonpeach · 4 months

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Brains vs Brawn

Dehya vs Al haitham!

Fem reader

Summary: you, a new professor in the Akademiya is currently stuck between what might be scribe Haitham’s attempt at flirting and the Eremite Lady Dehya.

Al haitham was a bit hard to understand at first. He was in fact, extremely blunt but also difficult to understand. He preferred to be alone mostly. Your experience studying when he was a student wasn’t notable. If anything he melted into the background minus when Kaveh, the most beautiful man you had ever seen, was talking to him. But now that you’ve become a professor he seems to… ‘bother you’. You aren’t certain but he critiques very often including your lenient grading requirements. But you aren’t irrational. You hear him out and stand your ground. Al haitham to you isn’t a bad person, he’s definitely not incapable of empathy or emotions. He is simply just stone faced and a very logical person. Logic and emotions don’t often coincide well together afterall. But you couldn’t really read him well. You knew he respected you but a crush? No you didn’t think that. Until he asked you out for lunch. Which was a surprise but still a nice free lunch.

The problem for Al haitham however isn’t that he’s too blunt or difficult to read, its that his rival is the complete opposite of him. Dehya, a eremite with not a unit completed or a term studied is his adversary and he knows she stands a greater chance of winning your heart. In fact he thinks she might’ve.

Dehya like Al Haitham is muscular but she’s also very socialable. She likes chatting with the ladies and when you started hiring her for expeditions regularly and paying her handsomely for such, she grew fond of you. Not because of your money but because you were a nice lady. She liked getting a glimpse of the life you had, she LOVED how you would open up about the scholars even airing dirty secrets to her in confidence, which she will keep. You two were unlikely friends. While your fellow professors believe Al haitham to be the better choice you just vibe well with her. Not to mention those muscles, oh eremites gals are truly a different breed. The muscles, the scars, the beautiful tan skin showing how hardworking she is.

But Al haitham wasn’t going to give up. He instead decided to read up on the subject of courting and romance a little more, finding it difficult but necessary. He went out of his comfort zone to ask his friends for advice. Which immediately made them think he was some impostor and also snoop around to discover it was you he was pursuing. Al Haitham made a effort to ask what you wanted to do or if you felt like you needed more funding, you were very talented at your profession and very humble though.

Al haitham doesn’t despise or even dislike Dehya, he understands that love is hardly ever a logical choice or thing, but that it is something he doesn’t fully grasp yet. But he also wants to understand it better with you. He likes the presence you bring and secretly adores how your annoyed or angry face looks when you argue with others. He doesn’t mind if you pick her though, in the end he trust’s you’ll pick who you like the most. He still will try and if he doesn’t succeed then he’ll just try again someday when he feels ready to.

Dehya meanwhile is actually confused but picks up that he’s pursuing you. She’s a bit feisty though so it just makes her all the more bold. But she isn’t going to try and sabotage him or ruin his life. She is confident that she could win your heart with her own tatics. And if she loses then well she tried. She’s an adult. She’ll handle her emotions accordingly. Probably can’t stand to see you with him but she’ll get over it.

Its truly a difficult choice as both of them have such nice physiques and are both strong and smart in their own way.

#wlw vs mlw series #dehya x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x y/n #genshin impact #domestic fluff #friendly competition #autistic alhaitham agenda #i don’t want to see any abelism against al haitham pls #I’m autistic myself

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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 4 months

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Beneath Miles of Stone - Part eighteen - John Wick x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: John has been in prison for nine months. He’s content to stay if it means appeasing the high table and keeping peace between the owners of each continental. However, he meets someone who erases that willingness. Peace be dammed.

TW: talk of killing/kill for hire job

Even though she left an extensive note to Michael detailing what happened, she decides to follow it up with a text.

Hey, sorry about the wet marks on the couch and rug.

I’m worried about you. Is leather jacket man always going to come crawling to you when he gets beat up?

I’m a bad roommate.

Nah, you’re just ❤️in ❤️ Also, a letter taped to the fridge? I feel like I’m in the 1800s. Had to read that shit by candlelight to make it really authentic.

She smiles, laughs out loud, then frowns, puts her phone down and rubs her face, attempting to massage some reality back into her brain to replace the vivid delusion she’s been entertaining.

A knock on the door of their hotel room makes her suspicious. After all, John said: “don’t open the door”, “don’t leave the room”, “pick up the phone if it rings”.

But surely not answering the door doesn’t apply if it’s hotel manager on the other end.

Winston’s rich voice is a salve to chafed nerves, and she’s scurrying eagerly to let him in.

“May I come in?” He looks as tired as she feels, even with the kind smile on his face.

He sits in the swivel leather desk chair while she folds her legs up on the bed and listens to what he has to say.

“Do you know what they call him?”

“Who? John?”

Winston nods. “They call him Baba Yaga, the Boogeyman. A terrifying monster. The thing that lurks under your bed, if you will.”

“Why?” She asks this because she knows it’s what he wants her to inquire.

“Once he wants someone dead, whether it be for professional or personal reasons, their fate is sealed. No one he’s hunted has ever lived .”

Spiders ballroom waltz down her spine. “He’s dangerous,” she summarizes.

“He’s lethal. And I’ve never, ever seen him like this.”

She picks the skin on her fingers, which Winston notices and scolds her for. “That can cause bad infections, you know.” He’s not mad, though; still, with a gentle smile, he offers to have a variety of stress balls sent to the room instead.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to accommodate me,” she admits, blood hot on her neck and jaw.

“My dear child, I do not have to do anything. I want to make you as comfortable as possible.”

She blanches a little bit at the term of endearment from him, reminded of a wise old uncle lost at sea, here to give her advice in her time of need.

He drops that topic for now. “It’s not my place to say, but he’s in love with you.”

She’s grateful for his patience as she chokes on this information.

“And while Johnathan is dear to me,” Winston says, leveling her like C4 does to a skyscraper, “It would be, forgive my wording, fucked up , if I didn’t try to help you get away from this life while you still can.” He pauses for a moment, and in his silence she hears the ending to that trailing sentence: “ if you still can.”

“You really think he’s that.. bad?”

Winston gives her a puzzled look. “No, not at all.” He shakes his head. “You misunderstand. I think the opposite. Johnathan has always been truculent, capricious, and implacable, but he has never been capable of being bad . The problem is not what he will do to you, it’s what he will do to protect you. And the hold over him someone could acquire by obtaining you…”

He keeps trailing off, which makes her think that he’s constantly trying not to say something. “Like, kill me?” She clarifies.

“Or worse.”

Oh.

“I just want you to know you have options. It’s very easy to feel stuck.” His contemplative expression denotes that he’s been on the receiving end of that statement once or twice.

“Mr. Scott,” she says, “you’re really, really nice… thank you for being that way.”

“Please,” he holds up a hand, smile gentle, “call me Winston. A friend of Johnathan’s is a friend of mine.”

Once he leaves, she takes a big breath and screams into a pillow a couple times. Then, she engages it in a boxing match it didn’t consent to.

John clears his throat, and the image of her turning around, one hand strangling the pillow and the other raised to hit it, little mouth popped open in an O of surprise, makes him laugh.

“Uh.. the pillow started it.”

The fact that he’s quiet enough to open the door, shut the door, and then get halfway into the room with a cloth bag and a dinner tray balanced in his arms is unsettling. Only because it means he can get away from her too easily as well.

He unloads his arms onto the desk. “I’m sure it did. You want me to kick its ass?”

“Nah, I don’t think we’ll have too many problems with it anymore.” She places the crumpled pillow back in its nesting place on the bed.

“I got turkey sandwiches,” he says, pointing to the tray. He sees the untidy office chair and tilts his head. “Was someone in here?”

She could lie, but he’d see right through it. “Winston came up.”

His smile immediately drops a little, but he doesn’t press the issue . “Com’ere, eat.”

He bought four different bags of chips from the dining hall, three kinds of soda bottles, and two ice cream cakes in styrofoam containers.

The sandwich is delicious, probably because she’s eaten nothing but peanut butter toast and strawberries in the past 24 hours.

“I took our clothes to dry cleaning,” he tells her, “they’ll be done and at the door in the morning.”

She looks up at him, hair mussed and static-y, a big bite of sandwich in her cheek, sleepy bags under her eyes, red puffy robe so pretty on her skin tone - god, the color suits her - shoulder slipping down because she wanted one two sizes too big.

She says something to him after she swallows. Maybe thank you. He’s too busy kissing her to hear the words, slipping his knuckles into her hair to grip the base of her skull.

He’s desperate with tongue and lips, like she’s going to slip through his hands into the floor and fall to the core of the earth. He traps her thighs in his own, grabs the bottom of her chair and drags her closer and tries to pull her into his lap.

Both of them don’t fit in the office chair comfortably, not with the way he wants to hold her, so he picks her up around the waist and takes her to bed.

When will this stop being surprising? The fact that he can just fold her up and cradle her like she’s made of clouds instead of meat and fat and bone.

The entire time, he manages to keep kissing her, too. Like a scene from one of those sickly romance movies she tends to shy away from.

“Were you done eating?” He asks, kissing her cheeks and forehead. The tip of her nose.

She pushes her arms around his neck, pulls him so that she can land a big, wet kiss right on his forehead, and he swears to god she must’ve left an imprint because of the residual feeling; the heat that spreads from her mouth onto his cheeks. His eyes go all soft and melted chocolate for her, big strong shoulders caving and slack. He curls around her like a heated, weighted blanket, covers and shelters her and makes her feel….

There’s a word for it.

Safe . From everything but him.

“John,” she giggles, his adorable little pet - thinking back to a classical childhood cartoon, he grins - the young girl squeezing the life out of her new pet ducky, going on about how she wants to hug him and hold him and hug him and hold him forever because he’s so cute -

“S’your fault,” he murmurs into her ear, inhales her. She smells like his soap. “You taught me how to cuddle.”

She can’t argue with him, and she doesn’t want to.

He overkills the heat and wraps a blanket around them, but she doesn’t mind sweating a bit. Not if it means she gets to stay clinging on him.

He plans to slip his devil fingers under this robe and give her some clit petting stress relief - rub her into a slow, beautiful mess before his mouth replaces his hand and gets a taste of what it’s been salivating for - but her eyes are closing and she’s getting softer and her breath is evening out through her chest. She settles into sleep like walking into one room from the next, determined grip still tight around his robe collar. Eyelashes soft and tickling her cherub cheeks.

He kisses her head, brushes hair out of her face. My human , he thinks, almost absently, like the thought just organically appeared and has been here all along.

Mine

#john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x plus size reader

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starjunkyard · 6 months

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Good god ep18 s6. House dealing (god-awfully .Full disclosure. The episode opens with house drinking himself half to death with zero regard for himself to the point of unintentionally breaking into his neighbours house and passing out there) with wilson getting back together with his ex-wife while the patient of the episode grapples with his possibly reciprocated love for the woman he loves but cannot Have because she's engaged to be wed with his friend.......... Thirteen egging the patient on to tell her how he really feels but he genuinely Cant Bring Himself To because "my friend's a great guy . He's rich, smart, and he'll treat her well. Me-- I'd do everything I could for her. But it wouldn't be much. And she... she deserves the best." And the episode ends with house resignedly throwing away the sealed envelope that held all the dirt he hired lucas to get on wilson's ex wife to try and break them upOhhhhhhhh oh. OHHHHHHHHHHHHH Ouhhhhhhh. Ouhhhhh the acknowledgement that house would do everything & anything & more for wilson Give .all of himself To Wilson and it still wouldn't be enough because house is House. Because even at his best-- house would still be house and because of that house would never be able to give wilson what he wants What he Needs. Wilson doesn't. Need the misanthropic bastard he's been in love with for 20 years who bites and spits at any threat or sign of emotional intimacy or vulnerability. What wilson. Needs is a woman . A wife and two kids and a white picket fence because that's all wilson is

Its the foundation of his entire self that would bring everything else down with it if it were to crumble. The face that wilson has spent his entire Life honing and sculpting and perfecting to present as the Perfect Hardworking American Man and Son. The perfect husband and treasured son with his own big shiny department and a stainless-white doctor's coat and the Exact Man a woman would Need

What is wilson. who is he What is left of him if he is not needed by a woman; not needed nor wanted any longer by the world he's lived his entire life by to please. What is James Wilson if not what everyone else expects him to be

House is the antithesis to all of that. A man rough and abrasive as sandpaper who makes wilson selfish makes him emotional and stupid. Who encourages wilson to lash out and fight and get angry and stand up for himself and be the exact opposite of what he's worked his entire life to be. Instead of accepting and taking wilson's painstakingly pedantically constructed facade at face value House fucking. Crashes through the walls with a bulldozer. Snatches the mask right off of wilson's face and dangles it over his head goading wilson to go ahead; try and get it back

Wilson is so deathly terrified at the idea of breaking out of the norms he himself has walled himself into-- he can't Bear to think of any other future for himself that is anything other than wholly and completely unnoticeable average monotonous unextraordinary

and House is the exact opposite of unnoticeable average monotonous unextraordinary. House is the apple of Eden that rests on the other side of wilson's pristine-white picket fence. The object of Wilson's every true desire that simultaneously threatens to doom and tear down everything wilson regards protects worships as the one untouchable unquestionable unchangeable truth of his life

House loses before it even starts. No one can compete with that; not even house. By nature, house can never be what wilson needs. What wilson truly desires or wants or needs is another subject entirely, something im genuinely not sure wilson could even grapple with, let alone come to terms with canonically. I fully believe wilson and house are the loves of each other's lives but house will never be what wilson "needs" or "wants" no matter what he does or changes about himself. They love each other more than anything and they want each other and they cant live without each other but House-- intrensically, by nature-- cannot be what Wilson wants.

#Looks around #What was that you guys #Did you guys hear that...#Its not this serious it realy genuinly isnt except It Is. It genuinely is to me #Tch........ Baka normies like you.... U would never get the shit that im on 😏🤏... (<- Insane)#SOMEONE SEDATE ME #Theyre so. I cant believe what they put in this show dawg i feel crazy #Explicitly implying that hilson are in love and soulmates numerous times acknowledged by actors producers and the show itself #It makes my head hurt like how do i even deal with thuis #Im so tiredgoodnight. I hate this show #Fuck thsi worl d #johan being crazy about yaoi md #house md #hilson #gregory house #james wilson #character analysis #relationship analysis

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akookminsupporter · 1 month

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I'm a diff anon, but:

"Okay, but I don't understand why this ended up with BTS being dragged into a mess that has nothing to do with them in the first place? This started with the lady from the coup, right?"

Yes. In short, HYBE ordered an audit on ADOR because they found proof that MHJ and a man planned to make ADOR a separate company, Mhj and the man talked with shareholders to try to get them to back them(ador) up so they can leave hybe. This is how it started and then later on a bunch of other stuff came out.. Reddit has master posts of this, you can find them if you want to read more about it

So after the news came out about the audit, she started responding to it, she claimed hybe copied newjeans to make Illit, she claimed that she was promised to debut hybe's first gg but they debuted le sserafim first instead, she implied that she was in a slave contract. So she namedropped 2 groups first. And then somehow some article reported that she went to a shaman to discuss BTS' enlistment and when they would go and so the shaman could make sure they really go? The last part is a bit confusing because idk how a shaman could make them go but yeah. And that's how BTS got into the picture. She later basically admitted this by rambling about how this shaman is just a friend of hers who just happens to be a shaman.

"Why did BTS end up being the bad guys again?"

Because nothing unites kpop fans more than hating on bts. BTS genuinely didn't do anything, kpop fans just started hating on them for no reason and they kept making tweets about "xy group disbanded because of hybe"

"It makes sense that BigHit decided to hire an external legal team instead of using HYBE's or even their own agency's."

In my understanding, they hired this external legal team or set up this law firm to deal with the hate campaign against Bts. There are a lot of conspiracy theories going around rn, about BTS/hybe being in a cult and K-pop fans being kpop fans and bringing up everything they can about bts' past. So I think this second legal team is just for the BTS issue so that the hybe legal team can fully focus on bringing mhj to court. Again, this is just how I interpreted it.

Hello, anon. Thanks you as well for providing a bit more context on everything that's going on. If you don't mind, I have a few things to comment on regarding what you said, and also, I have a couple of questions that I hope won't offend anyone:

1. Regarding the accusations made by that woman about copying NJ: why did she say that? I don't know much about that group, but a girl group in K-pop isn't something new, right? The concept isn’t that… new, I think? And their sound isn't so... unique? From what little I've heard and some comparisons I've seen. Is the new group exactly the same, or what? Does NJ have something unique that can be easily identifiable if someone copies it? And that’s why she said that?

2. She was promised that she would debut the company's first girl group: okay, they didn't do it, and? From what little or much I've read about what this woman has said, I've concluded that she's a tantrum-throwing and pretentious person who cries when she doesn't get what she wants. You know who she reminds me of? Veruca, the character from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

3. The shaman thing is complete madness and it’s probably the comedic contribution to all of this😭.

4. The obsession of Kpoppies with BTS should be studied. I can bet that not even the biggest stan in the fandom is as obsessed with them as Kpoppies are. If only they put as much effort into supporting their favorites as they do into hating BTS, they would help them rise above the mediocrity that many are in. At least in terms of sales, streaming, charts, etc., with the quality of content they put out, there's not much they can do.

5. Ahhhh, your explanation about the external legal team makes sense, but at the same time, I wonder if BigHit does have its own legal team, and if it doesn't, I wonder why.

#ask #anon #bts #bts fan opinions #Preg 197 #Kpoppies

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ladykailitha · 1 year

Text

Star Child Part 9

Hello!! We find out the name of Eddie’s roadie that spotted the problem at the bar in Part 6. We delve into Steve’s problems a bit. And we meet Steve’s badass lawyer.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8

***

Steve woke up at 6am like he always did. He knew that he wouldn’t be hearing from any of the Corroded Coffin boys until later in the morning but he was anxious to be doing something, anything. So he messaged Lucas that he was going to go for a run and hopped into the shower.

He was pleasantly surprised to see the man dressed for running in shorts and a tank top. Steve nodded appreciatively.

“Just a heads up,” he said, setting his smart watch for the run, “I’ve had a really anxious last couple of days and I tend to run harder to combat that.”

Lucas half shrugged. “I’m game for whatever you’ve got, man. I assure you.”

Steve laughed and started stretching. Lucas did the same and once they were fully stretched, they started off. Steve began slow and ramped up, faster and faster until they had hit a full on sprint.

They arrived back at the house, panting and sweating up a storm.

“Damn,” Lucas huffed, hands on his knees and head hung between his shoulders. “You weren’t kidding about that run. Shit.”

Steve laughed. “I haven’t had someone keep up with me before.”

Lucas stood up and put his hands on his back. “I used to play basketball in high school and college. Until I hurt my knee pretty bad.”

“Made it so you were unable to play?” Steve asked, leading them into the house for water and the AC.

“Actually,” Lucas said, taking the water bottle from Steve, “I fully recovered, but it was the team that had moved on. That’s when I realized it would be the same if I got in the NBA. I’d be traded around like a bad birthday present instead being treated like a person and went fuck that shit.”

Steve nodded and hopped up on the counter. “I used to play sports before I got into the whole singing thing. Originally my dad had me playing three sports to triple my chances of making money off of me. And then realized that he could make more with me as a pop star.”

He opened his bottle of water and took a long drink.

Lucas chugged his all in one gulp before tossing it in the trash. “What sports did you play?”

“Basketball,” Steve said, cocking his head to the side and held out his hand, point to Lucas, “like you. Let’s see...baseball and swimming. Did a couple others like boxing and wrestling in PE, but nothing worth writing home about. But yeah. I made captain of the basketball team and co-captain of the swim. I enjoyed them well enough. But singing, man? That’s it for me. I love it.”

“But you kept it with the sports after you made it big?” Lucas asked.

“Sure,” Steve murmured. “Most hotels have swimming pools and you can always find a place with a couple of hoops for a game or two.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Three fourths of The Kings played on the basketball team in high school, only Jonathan didn’t.”

“My sister was a big fan of The Kings when she was in high school,” Lucas said, leaning against the counter next to Steve and crossing her arms. “Billy was her favorite until she found out he was racist asshole.”

Steve grimaced. “Yeah, that was a PR nightmare, let me tell you.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine,” Lucas agreed. “What are your plans for today?”

“I’m meeting with a top contract lawyer to get my label off my ass,” Steve said, throwing his bottle in the trash can and making it. Lucas raised an impressed eyebrow. “My label is pissed that once this album is done and I go on tour, that’s it. I’m done with them.”

“This the same label that hired security to spy on you?” Lucas asked.

“That’s them,” Steve groused. “My manager made sure the terms were air tight in our favor but they’re trying to wiggle out of it.”

“Bastards.”

Steve shook his head. “You have no idea.”

“What’s the lawyer’s name?” Lucas asked with a tilt of his head.

Steve frowned. “Actually, I don’t recall.” He got up and went to the cork board next to fridge and began scanning for the business card. “Ah ha!” He plucked the card off the board and walked back to Lucas and handed him the card.

“Gillibrand, Farnsworth, and Hayward, Associates at Law,” Steve said. “I’m meeting with Erica Hayward.”

“Yeah...” Lucas said, drawing out the word. “I hope you’re looking for a scorched earth approach to this record label.”

Steve shrugged. “I wouldn’t be opposed. Why? Do you know them or something?”

Lucas winced. “I’d better. Erica Hayward is my little sister.”

Steve was relieved when Eddie called from the airport.

“Hey, Eds,” Steve said softly. “Everyone make it out all right?”

“Everything is fine beautiful,” Eddie said. “Chrissy is a certified genius. We actually have two tour buses, one that we keep stored in Evansville in case this one breaks down. So she had the bus haul ass down to Austin and we played a little bit of shell game with Creel’s goons.”

Steve laughed. “That’s fantastic! I was so worried about it, I was about to recommend my security company to you.”

“I thought you were notorious for blowing off your security detail,” Eddie said with a chuckle.

Steve walked out to the swimming pool and sat down on one of the loungers, “Used to. Back when they were spies for my parents and the record label. Got my own company now. They’ve been pretty good so far. Robin wanted someone to watch my back as I drove to LA.”

“And they passed muster, then?” Eddie asked with a fond smile.

“Yeah,” Steve said, laying back on the lounger. “They’re from Indiana, too and not Caifornia but they do have locations all around the country, LA included, of course.”

“Of course,” Eddie said. “But you don’t have to worry on that front, Stevie. My roadies double as security. Trust me when I say no one messes with us when they’re nearby.”

“Okay, Eds,” Steve said. “I hate how Creel tried to come after you guys. You especially.”

“I’ll just sic Mike on him,” Eddie said with laugh. “That bastard is so surly that I’ve seen him stare down a biker gang and win.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked. “He built like a tank or something?”

Eddie laughed again. “No, baby. Mike Wheeler is most definitely not built like a tank.”

Steve sat up in a flash and scrambled to get to his photos on his phone. “Is this him?”

“Why do you have a picture of my roadie on your phone?” Eddie asked, genuinely confused.

“You remember Nancy?” Steve asked. “The ex currently dating my former bandmate Jonanthan Byers.”

“Sure,” Eddie said. “From the Indie Dolls, right?”

Steve hummed in agreement.

“Rumor was,” Eddie continued, “that she didn’t even wait for the bed to get cold before she shacked up with Byers.”

Steve scoffed. “Bitch didn’t even wait for that. She full on cheated on me with Jonathan.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Steve said through gritted teeth. “Mike Wheeler is Nancy Wheeler’s little brother.”

“Fuck.” It was quiet on the line for a moment. “Really?”

“Small world,” Steve said. “He doesn’t like me much, but if he’s your guard dog, I’ll sleep soundly knowing he’s got your back.”

“And I’m glad you’ve got someone watching your back too, sweetheart,” Eddie replied.

Steve looked at his watch and sighed. “I’ve got let you go. I’ve got to get ready for my appointment. Fly safe.”

“Will do, sweet thing,” Eddie said and hung up.

Steve stared at his phone for a moment before he got up and went back in the house.

Max was waiting by a black sedan when Steve walked out of his house an hour later. He paused briefly at the bottom step and blinked at the sight. He then shrugged and half jogged to the car.

“Steve,” Max greeted. “We’ll be picking Robin Buckley up and then to your appointment. Lucas gave me the run down of the office and I know where all the exits are.”

Steve nodded and got into the backseat of the car. Max hopped into in the passenger seat. Steve could barely make out the driver.

They got to Robin’s house and she just bounded into the car without missing a beat. She slid into the middle so she could sit next to Steve.

“Now,” Max began once they were both settled, “Steve is my main priority, however I will do whatever it takes to keep you both safe.”

“Roger that!” Robin said with a jaunty salute.

They pulled up in front of a large office building with the names Gillibrand, Farnsworth, and Hayward in neat black letters on the bronze plaque next to the main doors.

Max followed close behind as Robin and Steve walked up to the receptionist’s desk.

“Steve Harrington to see Erica Hayward at 2pm?” Steve said smoothly.

The receptionist typed something on her screen and nodded. “Fifth floor, suite five hundred. Speak to her PA and he’ll let you in.”

“Thank you,” Steve said and tapped the front desk twice.

They walked to the elevator.

Everything about the place screamed opulence and elegance. They exited the elevator and this floor was even more elegant than the ground floor. It was all white marble and brass fittings.

Steve squirmed a little. It reminded him a little much of the home he grew up in. Fancy and faceless.

Robin took his hand and gently pulled him down the hallway to suite 500. She opened the glass door and led the way to the PA’s desk. The office was black marble and mahogany. Steve started tapping his finger against the side of his thigh nervously.

“Two o’clock appointment,” Robin said, “for Steve Harrington.”

The PA nodded. “She’ll be with you in a moment. Her last appointment ran late.”

Steve sat down, but both Robin and Max stood.

“I should have scoped out the place first,” Robin whispered mournfully. “I forgot lawyers like to be intimidating.”

Steve squeezed her hand. “It’s okay, Robs.”

Max cocked her head thoughtfully. “Janice mentioned something about you not being comfortable around opulence and extravagance. I’ve seen her history write-up of you, it’s a little thin on why.”

Robin and Steve shared a glance.

“That’s a story you guys might get if you continue to be awesome,” Robin said. “But it’s way too early for that shit.”

Max frowned. “It really is better to tell your security about all your pitfalls and fears because if you’re afraid of spiders and freak out, our reaction might be a tad elevated for the scenario if you get me.”

Steve made a finger gun and mimicked the sound of gun going off.

“Right in one, pretty boy.”

Robin chewed her bottom lip nervously.

“It’s okay, Robs,” Steve said. “She’s right they need to know.”

Robin threw her hands up in the air. “Fine, I’ll send the file over to Janice.”

Max’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “A file?!”

Steve nodded.

“Erica’s ready for you,” the PA interrupted.

Steve got up and followed Robin into the office, Max following close behind.

They got into the office and there was the most gorgeous black woman sitting behind a desk that matched the outer office.

She stood up to shake Robin and Steve’s hand before squealing and hugging Max.

“Max!” Erica said. “When is that loggerheaded brother of mine going to put a ring on that finger?”

Max laughed, hugging her back. “The last time he brought it up, I threatened to take out both of his knee caps.”

Erica stepped back and looked at Max appreciatively. “Fair. Speaking of Lucas, why isn’t he here instead of you?”

Max winced. “He was going to.” Erica raised a skeptical eyebrow. “No, really he was. But one of our clients had a break in last night so he was taking care of that until the early hours of the morning. Then he ran with Steve this morning, followed by the debriefing with Janice after about the break in. He barely got to bed an hour before this appointment.”

Steve raised an appreciative eyebrow.

Erica grimaced. “Ouch. Okay, he’s forgiven this time.” She turned to Steve and Robin. “Please sit. Tell me more about your case.”

Steve sat down and fiddled with the hem of his button down shirt. “This place is very intimidating.”

Erica smiled like a shark. “It’s meant to be.”

Steve shrugged. “If you hadn’t been so highly recommended,” he waved at Max, “and the sister of one of my security detail, I wouldn’t have even walked in. I would have found myself a different lawyer.”

“And you probably would have lost your case,” Erica said returning his shrug.

“Maybe,” Steve said. “But if I don’t feel comfortable with you as a lawyer, how can I trust you to handle my case the way I want it handled?”

Erica frowned appreciatively and nodded. “That’s fair, I suppose. But you have to understand, every single one of the partners at this firm is a black woman that had to claw her way to the top of the food chain. Dismissed, discredited, and disrespected,” she explained, moving to sit down at her desk.

“Patrica Farnsworth is the top attorney in trademarks and copyright law in LA, but because she’s a black woman, she was passed over time and time again for mediocre white men. Ophelia Gillibrand is the top lawyer in town for fair use and transformative works. She even volunteers part of her time to archives for fan fiction. But just like Patrica, overlooked and under paid.”

She sighed. “We are only respected because of how this place looks and is run. But I don’t doubt we’ve lost good clients because of it, too. It’s double-edged sword, but one we have to carry.”

Steve nodded. “You’ve convinced me,” he said with a cheeky smile. “So let me fill you in.”

As Max watched she suddenly knew why they needed to send over a file about Steve’s hangups. Because holy fuck was that some pretty heavy shit he was telling Erica.

Once they were done, Erica rubbed her hands together. “I love cases like these. They’re usually very quick and very brutal. Plus, I think with a couple of days of digging I can get the whole fucking contract thrown out and you can start writing whatever the fuck you want by the end of the week.”

Robin and Steve shared a surprised glance.

“What do you mean?” Robin asked.

“They blackmailed Steve into the contract,” Erica sneered, “holding his past over his head. That’s illegal. And if I’m right, and I usually am, I can get criminal charges brought up against your parents and the label.”

Steve blinked. “Lucas said you would take a scorched earth approach.”

Erica cocked her head smugly. “It’s what I do.”

“Then have at it,” Robin said gleefully. “Carte blanche, money is no object. Have at thee.”

Steve nodded. “Agreed. Take these assholes to school.”

“With pleasure.”

***

Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Tag List:

@bejeweledbaby @eboyawstenn @moonshadows-13 @ohlook-afrog @goodolefashionedloverboi @linkydinky06 @livelaughlexa @spectrum-spectre @cutepumpkin4 @whatthemeepever @gleek4twd @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @novelnovella @celtrose-ish @artiststarme @plasticcrotches @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @anaibis @nelotegreitic @steddieassheg0es @abstractnaturaldisaster @scheodingers-muppet @tiny-enthusiast @yes-im-your-mom @thegingerrapunzel @milf-harrington @avacrebs @gregre369 @raisedbylibrarians @reverseteehee @lillys-weird-world @deadlydodos @runyousillydetective @justrandomfandomstm @piebook67 @clumsywriter @donttouchmycarrots @fiore-della-valle @idkareallyreallygoodname @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @ravenpainter @ellietheasexylibrarian @maya-custodios-dionach @child-of-cthulhu @estrellami-1 @nerdsconquerall @space-invading-pigeon

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #rockstar au #song fic #ladykailtiha writes

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atopvisenyashill · 2 months

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[just black list the tag #rani liveblogs got if u don’t want to see me bitch]

changes from book to show i noticed

what do you think it says thematically that they change the execution ned is carrying out from gared to will. do you think it was just cheaper to hire one guy to be both the “point of view” for our intro to the others and to also be the person executed.

i KNOW what it says thematically that they end this open with a scary shocking gared gets beheaded by the white walker scene and completely cut waymar royce’s “dance with me then” last stand and it’s nothing very good.

i don’t know that i like that they gave the “what about you” “i’m not a stark” exchange to bran and jon instead of ned and jon. i feel like it hits more when it’s jon denying his own starkness to ned’s face and bran sitting there realizing what a big thing jon has done here. but maybe i’m being picky here.

i do love this jaime & cersei scene. establishes the incest early, that they aren’t the ones who killed jon arryn, and also nikolaj’s danish accent comes through sooooo bad but i like it let him do it and give no explanation it’s sexy.

the tyrion change sure is. very typical of d&d.

i understand why it’s easier to just have jon snow outside and if they had a stronger jon snow i think i’d find this change less annoying but jon snow getting drunk at the party and crying is like 80% of the reason i love him so much. whomst among us.

these people are cowards prudes and fake perverts for changing this to fully clothed cuddling from those horn dogs .25 seconds after they came. i don’t give a shit about those three dehydrated twenty year olds in the shaving scene, also jon snow is my son i do Not want to fuck him stop trying to make me want to fuck him and give me sweaty and naked sean bean and michelle fairley having political pillow talk dammit.

making that change from catelyn wanting ned to go and ned not wanting to into catelyn fighting with luwin for ned to stay and ned not saying anything. perfect combo of “man is always right” + “completely erasing cat’s canon personality” + “misunderstanding ned’s core trait of grief due to long term depression & ptsd as ned is an honorable fool” nonsense. also let sean bean be naked?? michelle is not even like old???

i do understand why george was annoyed at the wedding night change, he’s writing something much more subtle than this, buti do think that’s a sign that they are not writing as subtle as him in regard to like. literally everything but especially dany and especially her relationships.

general comments and bitching

the archery scene is so fucking good tho. the way bran just LAUNCHES himself over that barrel to go slap arya silly but he can’t catch her she’s gone she’s in the wind and jon rickon and robb are hooting and hollering. really great.

do you know how many people i know who thought that jon snow and catelyn were fuckin bc of the glare they added there. akskdkd.

i wish they’d differentiated between jeyne poole and beth cassel in this scene with some dialogue and arya hears the training outside eventually drown out their voices instead of complete silence. those girls were not just like, the Main socialization that arya & sansa get, they’re both important to the northern plot with jeyne poole being like foundational to both of their stories. but obviously we know where that one goes.

i always think of that “when he looks at MEEEEEE and i look at HIIIIIIM” post during the direwolf puppy scene

“but he’s coming right now! down our road!”

i really like that arya is so mean to bran because he’s In Her Spot bc she’s next oldest so SHE goes next and HE goes next to the baby.

the way mark addy does that out of breath huffy “CAAAAAAAAAAAT” and hugs her is so funny to me i love every acting decision that man ever made.

honestly they really set emilia up by having most of her scenes be with harry lloyd when she can barely match kit harington and the daarios.

kit harington is always so much worse in this season than i ever remember. but that’s okay because lena headey, mark addy, and sean bean are also sooooo much better than i remember every single time.

the feast scene is also very good. the lil deranged moment between cersei catelyn and sansa. cat’s single nod to robb and him putting on the big brother and perfect heir face immediately. jaime so clearly wanting to fuck ned and ned cannot be more turned off by how desperate jaime is. amazing.

i remember reading an article about how this white opinion writer was like was that dothraki wedding racist. can you be racist against fictional people. you definitely can right?? anyways viserys looking really worried that murder is gonna fuck up his deal before laughing is so funny.

also the suddenness of “the things i do for love” is real good. i always gasp with bran when it happens, the way they time it is really good.

god i hope i don’t spend this much time bitching for every single episode. akskdjd. this is one of the good seasons.

#rani liveblogs got #yes i am high as promised

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tea-and-finalfantasy · 9 months

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In regards to the weird backlash over Benn Beckman's live action casting--I'm sorry you expected a character at 38-48 to look like anything else but a legit older man. I'm sorry they cast a 39 year old in the role of an older man, first seen at age 38

In terms of looks, the trivia section of the wiki mentions that Oda said that Benn looks like a mouse. The man doesn't even have eyebrows

Like we all think he's hot, I think he's hot, he knows he's hot with that playboy attitude apparently--but please take a second to look at this beloved older man with no eyebrows and undereye creases and come back to me. Tell me you think those are subjectively sexy features and that we're not all fixated on someone who's yeah, normal, but a little strange

Yes I think he's genuinely beautiful for those reasons (among other things) but he's just some guy and I'm glad we get to see him as just some guy. He's incredibly smart and sympathetic and protective but like most of Shanks' crew, they look like normal people. I'm sorry you wanted all supermodels for the crew who camps out on an island the majority of the time. Realistically he'd smell like tobacco and alcohol, even just from proximity, even if he's absolutely one of the crew that actually showers everyday. Yeah Yasopp and Shanks are banging and Lucky Roux too--although apparently a lot of you haven't matured to the point where you realize fat people are hot--but they're all normal people with Benn being the oldest by far. If we were dealing with post-timeskip Benn here, you mean to tell me you think a 50 year old man would look any other way? Them hiring a 39 year old is fucking kind if someone ten years away from 50 is this upsetting to you

Like the one thing I'd fix is the wig styling. That's it. I feel like it needs to fit just a smidge better but this isn't RuPaul's Drag Race--I don't expect the wigs of all things to be top tier. We saw the Wado Ichimonji bend (which I'm also not taking seriously/I think it's so fucking funny) and people are irritated that Taz Skylar is more muscular as Sanji than Mackenyu as Zoro--as if Zoro wasn't a fucking beanstalk of a man in part one?

I get wanting to be picky about things, especially your faves, but they are never going to adhere to everything everyone could possibly dream of for a fancast. Hell, they don't even draw the characters the same in the manga anymore, with certain things (skin tones) being more important than other, more preferential things (hair color, type--even if those changes irritate me too)

You don't have to like the casting but for fuck's sake do you want an apology from fat people? Older people? He's not even 40! Get over yourselves. I'm thrilled that so much of this cast just looks like themselves. That they look like regular fucking people and that we can designate the entire budget to Chuu and Arlong and Buggy instead.

Plus Mihawk is gorgeous all the time and I think this is accentuated by like. Yeah the cast is hot and cute and good looking but they're also normal people. He gets to be this otherworldly beauty amongst good looking people you'd see everyday because he's this striking, chilling, strict, and beautiful presence around just, everyone else.

But if you think for a fucking second I'm personally not singing my fucking praises when a character like Benn Beckman has a round stomach like that my God like I don't know what the rest of you are doing wasting your time wishing he had abs, for fuck's sake he's on the crew of borderline cirrhosis, I think ALL of them should have beer bellies. Thank fuck for Lucky Roux and Benn Beckman in the same scene bc that was a blessing, thank fuck for fat people

Do you know how hot it'd be if someone as big as Crocodile was fat? How strange it'd genuinely be if he isn't? He's fucking massive, what do you want him to weigh, 170lbs? He couldn't support the fat titties y'all give him with that low of a weight

Do you know how hot Alvida is with her round face and double chin? For Benn Beckman of all characters to have a stomach, for Lucky Roux to be fat and endearing and cute and able to be written as an actual character and not like, a beach ball of a man, is the closest thing we're gonna get to fat people being allowed to exist normally in One Piece

And the story isn't fucking about them! One Piece has over 1000 episodes and Netflix is going to cancel this inevitably as they do with every show to avoid paying their actors and writers--we literally do not have time to give Benn more than a background role anyways. What's it matter if you don't like how he looks in the two scenes they're gonna give him

Lastly look at his IMDB pic and tell me he's not handsome

The point isn't to only respect people if they're attractive but like. He's really good looking anyways! Y'all are letting your perfect perception of Benn Beckman to overwhelm the actual performance being done, and of a background character no less. You guys are letting a cheap wig poison you into calling a real life person ugly for daring to play the role of a background character as instructed

This fatphobia and ageism (of a fucking, 39 year old man like he's pushing 100) combo is literally the mirror image of every anime fan power-scaling on Twitter, the "this is how Kaido and Big Mom will win" dudes preoccupied with their own poorly written fantasies rather than seeing what a clearly-written, the-good-guys-will-prevail story is plainly saying to the audience

You are becoming no different than the pathetic dudes (who aren't strong, who aren't doing fight choreo, who may even have the same amount of fat but who think they're immune to the same hatred for it--who could be doing all these things but still are worthless pieces of shit because they're spiteful and have no personalities or interests beyond that) saying he's not tough enough, that he should be stronger and more fit--in a show where everyone's either fit or ugly, in a show that showed him to be average size--real skinny even in the manga, as with everyone else at that point! from luffy to zoro to sanji, they all were beanpoles--in a world where no one can be normal about other people of any weight they perceive to be "fat," regardless of if that's the case or not

This is supposed to be for fun and being so irrevocably rattled by the little things is detracting from your enjoyment of something intended to deviate from the source media and that in some ways (in regards to the variety of people being casted/in regards to Luffy being Brazilian in Oda's words) is closer to the source media than we think

You don't have to have Liebenberg as your Beckman choice. You don't have to like the trimmed down storyline, even in the face of needing to cut for time no matter what. It's fine to be the type of person who wants adaptations to be as close to the source media as possible and I've felt that way about certain media too! I dislike when what I fixate on isn't the main focus of a new creation! But directing any dissatisfaction towards this dude doing the job he was hired for because you think he's ugly is ridiculous

#benn beckman #one piece live action #one piece

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mortemoppetere · 9 months

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TIMING: shortly after nora's decrystalization LOCATION: axis investigations PARTIES: @honeysmokedham & @mortemoppetere CONTENT: infidelity (mentioned very briefly in reference to PI work) SUMMARY: a look into the average american workforce.

The desk Nora used was an old broken thing they’d pulled out of a dumpster and “fixed up”. Fixed up is a loose term here, the uneven leg was made even with the use of a stolen library book, specially selected from their cultivated shelves not for its contents, but for having the perfect amount of pages to keep the desk flat. The desk’s overall structure was patched together with an extreme amount of duct tape, super glue, and force of will. If Nora did anything too fast on her desk, its legs would shift as if the thing would collapse at any moment. A large chunk of wood protruded from the side, to the point a comment had been made they could shove a vampire into it if ever needed. In short, the desk was an OSHA violation waiting to happen.

Nora loved her desk. She’d made a hobby out of covering its scraped wood surface with monsters of her own creation. Today, she sat at her desk, rickety chair squeaking every now and then with her movement. The laptop she had stolen - she decided using Emilio’s old windows 90 or whatever would not do for research - sat open next to her, displaying an unread article. Adds flashed on the side, changing the lighting across her from one bright color to the next. Instead of focusing on her work, researching the identity of Dawn Burnbook, Nora was busy staring at her arms. They were smooth and flesh. It distracted her.

Generally, when Nora was in the office she came to work by herself. But since her stint in the mines, her roommates had taken to following her everywhere. As if she would touch another crystal and rejoin the mine cult. As if the temptation to get her body of crystals would overwhelm her. They were right. Babadook was laid out on the floor, tentacles moving toys around Perro in an attempt at normal dog play, while Munch, the sad clown doll haunted by a ghost, stood on Emilio’s desk, seemingly judging everything the man was doing. Nora didn’t think Emilio could hear the string of commentary coming out of the ghost's mouth, but it included multiple suggestions that would make his case file organization more efficient, a suggestion to not drink alcohol while working to maintain professionalism, and a few pointed jabs at Emilio’s outfit.

—

The office was a lot more crowded than it usually was. Normally, Emilio might complain about that. He’d gripe about how he’d hired Nora, not her platoon of extra ‘helpers,’ would bitch about Babadook being too big to properly sit in his living room floor or the haunted goddamn doll interrupting his work. But now? After so long of having the office empty of anyone but himself and Perro, after spending such a long time alone in these four walls while she’d been off in the mines with Teddy and the world had been falling to pieces? Having a crowded office felt just fine.

He flipped the page in the case file he’d been working on, glancing up at the doll standing on his desk. “You keep looking at me like that,” he said quietly, “and I’ll put you in the floor for the dog to chase. I mean that.” He didn’t. Nora would be upset if Perro ripped a hole in her friend, and Emilio would feel bad even if he’d never admit to it. But he was good at threats, anyway, and he did kind of want the doll to stop looking at him. It was a little unnerving.

Nora’s desk creaked, and he looked over to where she sat with a quiet hum. “You don’t have to stick around today if you’re bored. Been slow since people started coming back from the mines.” A lot of ‘missing persons’ cases had been solved by clients’ loved ones sheepishly reentering their homes, newly crystal-free. Most of them were happy about it. Nora didn’t seem to be. Emilio tried not to think about it too much. He was glad to have her back, whether she was glad to be back or not.

—

Munch was immune to threats. The ghost was already dead, and perhaps he thought finding a new doll to haunt would be easy. Or perhaps the idea of being a tattered sad clown doll was appealing to the ghost who had found refuge in a family of monsters who took pleasure in scaring people. What was scarier than a sad clown doll? Who looked like it had marched through the depths of hell, clawed its way out of Satan’s grasp and now went around the living trying to send them to death. Or not. It was all speculation.

“He thinks you’re bad at organizing.” Nora informed Emilio. Munch was tugging at some of the paperwork, trying to get it to budge so he could show Emilio exactly how he should organize his desk. “He also thinks your office is a mess, and you shouldn’t drink at work. I didn’t realize Munch was a bootlicker, or I wouldn’t have freed him from the ghost trafficker.” Nora ducked as an angry clown doll flew at her head. Her microsmile, the normal one that her friends and loved ones had taught her, flitted across her expression as she dodged the little doll with practice ease. Munch had anger management problems. He was in good company.

“No air conditioning in the crypt.” The crypt didn’t need air conditioning. It was cool all year around, basically a freezer in the winter. She made a mental note to obtain a space heater before winter rolled around. More more blankets. “Don’t want to melt.” More like she didn’t want to be alone with the thoughts of how perfect she had been, how she’d fallen into mind control so easily. How she still considered touching a crystal just to go back. “Even if yours barely works.” Because Axis was not allowed to be better than the crypt. “Hace calor.” Nora added in Spanish. At least she hoped it was Spanish, and not an abomination of an attempt.

—

“I’m not taking advice from someone who haunts a doll,” Emilio replied, rolling his eyes. “I know where everything is. This means it is organized how it needs to be organized.” No one else would be able to make any sense of the mess on his desk, he knew, but wasn’t that just an added layer of security? Didn’t it just mean that anyone who broke in would have to search all the longer to find anything of real value? If he let some doll organize his shit in a way that made sense to the masses, he was just inviting trouble. He tried not to do that.

Glancing back to the doll, he made a show of lifting his bottle of whiskey to his lips and took a long swig, just to spite the damn thing. Nora was on his side here, at least; the doll flew at her at the insult, and Emilio let out a quiet huff of a laugh. “Maybe you should send him back,” he offered. She wouldn’t, and he didn’t expect her to, but he liked the idea of successfully pissing the doll off.

The window unit blowing cool air through Axis was on its very last leg, made a god-awful noise every time it kicked on, but it did work. Emilio raised a brow when Nora mentioned it. “Ah, so you’re saying Axis is better than your crypt? This is what you mean?” He looked as smug as he sounded, which was to say… very. “Barely works is better than not existing, isn’t it?” His smile softened briefly as she added in some Spanish, the expression flickering across his face so quickly that some might have missed it. “Sí. Es verano.” It’s summer. Dry humor, in every language.

—

“Yeah. Send him back to the ghost trafficker. You can get locked in that trunk for a few more years. When you come out you might get an attitude change.” Yelling, cursing, punching. Punches didn’t matter when the ghost was a doll the size of her hand. “You should have been an angry clown, instead of a sad clown.” Nora dodged another blow. Shutting her laptop, she made the executive decision that she was going to get no more work done today. But it was nice to be there. In the crowded apartment. It held the same comfort as being in the fort with Cass and Teddy. Same comfort, different font. Being normal wasn’t so bad if this was normal.

Emilio was being smug. Nora hated when he was smug. She bore him down with a deadpan stare. Face blank from emotion. She let the space between his statement and her eventual answer swell. Allowing him to come to the conclusion that she thought he was stupid for even saying that. “No.” She answered finally. “The crypt doesn’t have loud neighbors who tear down my signs constantly. Or Jeff.” To be fair, with the way Jeff terrorized the building it was only a matter of time before he ended up in a graveyard. God forbid it was hers. “Verano.” Nora repeated the word, just to keep the feel of it in her mouth, and not to comment on it. “

“No more work.” Nora announced. Her mind wasn’t going to let her focus on the case anyway. “Do something interesting. Do a flip.” Nora placed her chin on her hand, eyes staring expectantly at Emilio for entertainment. As if the dogs had been tuned in the conversation, their play stopped as well, their eyes seeking Emilio’s in the ways dogs always look at humans. Patient and kind.

—

“Angry clowns are stupid,” Emilio replied, shrugging a shoulder. “So are sad clowns. And happy clowns. All clowns are stupid. Maybe you should have been something less stupid.” How had this become the norm for him? Bullying a doll that had a ghost inside of it while a yeth hound chased a three-legged dog around the living room. Three years ago, if you’d suggested to him that he’d end up here, he would have called you a liar. (He might have also punched you. He’d always been good at that.)

He snorted as Nora glared at him, looking unbothered by her stare. He’d grown pretty accustomed to all of Nora’s blank stares, well enough to know the difference between them all. This one meant she thought he was being stupid. He got this one a lot. “Ah, you like Jeff.” It wasn’t true, because no one liked Jeff. Jeff was a goddamn scourge on this building, and it was only a matter of time before that knife he liked to play with wound up in someone’s gut. Considering Emilio’s luck, he was pretty sure it’d be his gut, which was fine. His gut could probably take it. “If you put a sign outside your crypt, someone would definitely tear it down.” Probably Emilio, just to prove a point. He nodded in approval as she repeated the word, pronunciation shaky but not wrong. She was a quick learner; a lot faster than he’d ever been. It wouldn’t be long before her Spanish was better than his English.

“I didn’t know you were doing work to begin with,” he replied dryly. “Seems to me you only came here to enjoy my air.” He crossed his arms over his chest, raising a brow as he looked down at her. “Sure. Just did one. You catch it? It was quick.” They both knew he couldn’t do a damn flip. He could barely walk. There’d be no flipping.

—

Munch had told Nora the story of how he ended up in the clown doll before. Nora forgot most of the details, but it boiled down to a freshly dead ghost was scared of going to the light so he hid in the nearest object. A clown doll. There were a lot of questions Nora had about what he was doing around clown dolls at the time, but Munch had steadfastly refused to answer all of them, saying that it was privileged information. Nora figured that to mean weird sex things and was happy to leave that line of questioning. Munch, however, was sensitive about his blown body being called stupid and made a ruckus about it. The world ignored him, as the world ignored ghosts. The dead were meant to be forgotten.

“I don’t like Jeff.” Nobody liked Jeff. There was a running conversation between the two of them that went along the lines of Nora telling Emilio they should stab Jeff first, and Emilio telling Nora that would be too much work to clean up. “The crypt will always be better than Axis for as long as Jeff is here. He’s negative a billion points.” Nora stood up from her desk, stretching. Most of her movements were still exaggerated, a habit from making room for crystals. The crystals were gone now and the movements were clunky and awkward. She ignored her body. “I don’t want a sign at the crypt. The crypt doesn’t have visitors. I like that.” That wasn’t necessarily true anymore. Nora had friends now, people who cared about her and stopped by to see her. Weird where life took people, wasn’t it?

“You caught me. You really are the best detective in all the land.” Nora pulled the words out in a dry monotone. “My plan for free air, foiled. Whatever will I do? Real work?” Despite her lack of face or tonal expression, Nora threw herself on the couch in a fit of drama for the joke. “Woe is me.” Her eyes flicked to Emilio, claiming to do a flip. “That was the worst flip I’ve ever seen.”

—

The clown doll was making a ruckus in the only way a clown doll could make a ruckus, which was a very easy thing to ignore. And Emilio knew that that would only piss the thing off more, because if he were destined to spend eternity haunting a tiny clown, he’d be pissed to hell if everyone ignored him. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to care, either. It was what it was. He’d rather focus on the living in the room than the dead; the latter never gave him much of anything to do worth doing.

“Sure you do. You’re always asking me about Jeff.” Has Jeff stabbed you yet, mostly, or when do you think Jeff is going to stab you. Sometimes it was did Jeff break in and steal the TV remote again, too. “I think if Jeff is negative a billion points, all the shit in the graveyard should also be negative a billion points. You got undead shit in your back yard, kid. That’s worse than anything Jeff can do.” But maybe she had a point about the sign. If Emilio didn’t need to make money, he wouldn’t bother with a sign on Axis’s door, either. It was more trouble than it was worth, sometimes. People found him when he didn’t want to be found, people spoke to him when he didn’t want to be spoken to. At least Nora didn’t have to deal with all that in her crypt… not that Emilio would ever admit to thinking so.

Huffing a laugh, he rolled his eyes. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks,” he replied dryly. He rolled his eyes again as she continued, dry as ever. “You and me both know you’re not going to do real work. I’m not sure you know how.” As if Emilio did. Most of what he did wasn’t exactly within the range of what any other PI would call ‘reasonable methods.’ It got the job done, sure… but not usually in the best way. “Okay. You do one, then. Go on, show me a trick.”

—

“You have a weird obsession with Jeff and we both know it. Stop trying to project it on me.” One time Nora had joked that they needed to make a Jeff’s Stab Meter, because some days Jeff was more likely to take a swing than others, resulting in the two sharing warnings with each other. Jeff probably had no clue that he was as common a topic as the crypt vs Axis. An easy point of banter between two people bad at words. “Maybe you should invite Jeff over. He’d like your knife collection. You two could stab people together. Wouldn’t that be romantic?” The idea that Jeff was capable of anything other than murderous intent was funny. Actually, maybe he should be their friend. The more she thought about it, the more Nora thought he’d fit in.

“The graveyard is positive three million points.” Nora corrected Emilio. “The undead give it character.” Emilio constantly reminded her that there were things going to kill her in graveyards. Nora logically knew he was probably right. Emilio was always right. Boo. But nothing had attacked her yet. In fact, she had a bunch of ghostly friends. It was like having nice neighbors who had adopted her without Jeff. “The crypt is in the lead. Sucks to suck.”

“Big enough bucks to buy a better air conditioner?” Nora retorted. “If this one breaks I need to find a new job, nobody wants that.” By nobody she meant herself. Other jobs probably expected her to work. Van, Thea, and Wynne were all very expressive about their jobs, and Nora thought it sounded tedious. She was much better suited for detective work. It gave a whole new reason to break and enter. “I do the work my boss taught me to do.” Nora added with a shrug of a shoulder. “If he’s doing bad work, I’m doing bad work.” Do a trick. A challenge. Nora loved challenges, but it was a lazy afternoon and the effort was low. Emilio’s flip had been fake. Her trick would be just as fake. “For my next trick I will become taller than you.” Nora stood on the couch, and took a bow. “Tada.”

—

“That’s you, actually.” In all honesty, Emilio felt a little bad for his neighbor. It was clear that Jeff wasn’t entirely there some days, that something was missing. In a town like this one, the list of things that could have made him that way was long and winding, and it was hard not to feel at least a little sympathetic. That would probably change, of course, when Jeff finally did manage to stab him one of these days, but for now? Emilio would humor the guy. “I don’t have to invite Jeff over. Jeff comes over all on his own.” Usually because he mistook Emilio’s apartment for his own and wandered in yelling about someone moving all his furniture. The idea of anything romantic with the guy, in spite of the detective’s almost-fondness for him, brought a disgusted look to Emilio’s face, and he wrinkled his nose. There were a lot of people he’d rather sleep with than Jeff.

“Ha,” Emilio replied dryly. “Undead are not for character.” In spite of the undead friends he’d made here, there was still an instinctive level of disgust that came with the sensation in his gut that told him something undead was nearby. He knew it was a shameful thing, but it wasn’t something he could shake, either. When you’d been raised all your life to believe that the undead were bad and wrong, it took more than a few friendly vampires to erase that instinct. He was trying. It was slow going. But he didn’t stab on site anymore, and he thought that must count for something. “The crypt smells weird, you know.” As if this building smelled any better.

Glancing over at the rickety window unit, Emilio shrugged. “It gets the job done. Why would I waste my money on a new one?” That was his philosophy with a lot of things in this apartment, from the sofa he’d found in a dumpster to the bare mattress in the bedroom. As long as something was functional, even if the definition only applied at the bare minimum, Emilio saw no reason to replace it. “Then I guess we’re both doing bad work. Who would have guessed.” He snorted as she climbed up onto the couch. Standing, he approached her and climbed up to stand beside her, a little wobbly and not without a flare of protest from his bad knee, but at a height that once again put him above her. “Not anymore. Bad trick.”

—

Nora rolled her eyes, letting the exaggerated movement once again tell Emilio how dumb he was. He might as well have said 'I know you are, what am I?' "Sure he comes over. But it's always Jeff get out and never Jeff hang out for a bit. Maybe if he got to chill he'd leave the remote."�� The romance joke hit and Nora was rewarded with a look of disgust and nose wrinkling. That was how Nora knew her blow hit. Good. Nora would count that as a win. An illusion of Jeff's face appeared next to Emilio. It was making kissing faces. "I think he really likes you," Nora added, a fake heavy sigh as she said it. The kind of sigh that was supposed to say, isn't that dreamy? Practiced from a childhood of watching movies where girls in Disney movies signed over princes like that. "Your own prince charming."

"Undead are for character. Spooky scary skeletons are in. You're just old." Nora pointed an accusatory finger at him. As if being old was a crime that made a person automatically out of touch with the rest of the world. Home Depot or whatever was now selling giant skeletons to stand in people's yards. Those were made out of plastic and the dream to be the spookiest house on the block. Imagine how jealous they would be to find out that Nora had hundreds of skeletons in her yard. They were all free. And sometimes a few of them would come back to life in different stages of decomposition. They would literally be so jealous. Nora hadn't seen any of them come back yet, but with the amount of emphasis Emilio put on it, she was sure it would be any day now. "Better than here." Nora retorted without a second thought. "Someone who uses 5-in1 can't comment about smell. It's on the fine print of the bottle." Nora would add that to his 5-in-1 Irish Spring soap bottle eventually because she always upheld the bit.

"Because it's going to break, and Perro is going to be hot. Do you want Perro to be hot?" Getting to know someone, Nora had learned recently, included learning about what motivated them. Nora could Emilio refuse to lift a finger to help himself, then turn around and jump through hoops to do anything for Perro. Nora often wondered if Perro was his first dog. Sometimes Perro would do something all dogs have done before, and Emilio would be staring at the little guy in rapt attention. Was it exploitative to use Perro against him? Probably. Nora still wasn't sure how interactions were supposed to go. But if it helped him, it was okay, right? Because Nora wanted to help Emilio.

"No work, just arson!" The couch squeaked under Nora as she bounded on the worn-down cushion. To her surprise, Emilio was being fun today. Fun in the most annoying way possible. Bad trick? He had the nerve to put zero effort into his trick, but hers was bad? Nora threw off her jacket, making one of those spur of the moments decisions. "Fine," Nora answered. Snap. Crackle. Pop. Her body was a burst of pain and then she was a bear. White fur cascaded down her body where flesh had been. Nora yodeled into the air above Emilio's face. Because as a polar bear on her hind legs? She was much taller. A shower of illusionary sparks twinkled around her as if to say, "Tada! How's that for a magic trick?"

—

The illusion wasn’t entirely unexpected, because it was a very Nora thing to do. Emilio swatted it absently, breaking it up and forcing it to dissipate. “Ay, cut it out. I think you’re, uh…” He searched for the word, shrugging when he couldn’t put his finger on it. “Saying I think what you think. Maybe it’s you who has a crush on Jeff. Kids your age always have bad taste in men, you know. When my…” He trailed off, sucking his teeth and offering a shrug. When my sister was your age, he’d almost said. Almost told a story about Rosa and her terrible boyfriend, the one his mother had hated. Looking back, he wasn’t sure how bad the guy had really been. In all likelihood, his mother had hated him because he wasn’t a hunter, and because any of her children dating someone who wasn’t like them ran the risk of grandchildren who weren’t hunters, and that was not something she would risk. She’d been angry enough that Emilio married a ranger instead of a slayer; he could only imagine how pissed she’d have been if Rosa had stayed with the human boy she’d claimed to love at twenty, if she hadn’t ‘come to her senses’ after the punishment Elena doled out.

Still. That guy would’ve been better than fucking Jeff. Even joking about it was a little gross.

“Maybe I am. There are worse things to be than old.” Most wouldn’t consider thirty-four to be old at all, but to Emilio, it felt ancient. In hunter circles, it kind of was. Most people born into the life he’d been born into were dead before they hit thirty. People like Rhett, who was nearly fifty now, were unheard of. Emilio was under no illusion that he’d live as long as Rhett, not when he felt half-dead already, but maybe there was still something of an accomplishment to the years he had under his belt. Enough of one that he didn’t care about being called old. He did dislike being called smelly, though. “It is soap. Soap smells fine. I’m not going to spend twenty dollars more than I need to just to buy soap that people approve of and keep a dozen bottles in my shower.” His soap did five things, with one soap. How was he the only one who realized what a deal that was? Everyone else acted as though he were committing some heinous crime just by using it, like they weren’t the ones who’d been fooled.

Emilio glanced to Perro, hesitating. Was the dog hot? He didn’t seem to be bothered, chasing Babadook around in circles with a joyful wagging of his tail, but Emilio didn’t know much about dogs. “I’ll buy him a fan,” he decided, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. Get the dog a fan, let the rest of the apartment suffer. It seemed a fair enough trade… and it let him refuse to bend to Nora, which felt important here. Hey, kids needed boundaries, right? He’d been a shitty father, but even he knew that much.

He raised a smug brow as she hopped off the couch, waiting to see what ‘trick’ she’d come up with next. When she began to shift, he blinked. “Nora, wait —” But there was no stopping her. There was a goddamn polar bear in his living room, and he glanced briefly to the floor as if to determine whether or not he could trust it to hold her. It creaked a little, but didn’t collapse. Pleasant surprise. “Very funny. Come on, kid. Back to a person, before you scare the dog.” Perro, for his part, wagged his tail excitedly, yipping as he ran happy circles around the bear’s massive feet. Emilio, even from his spot on the couch, had to crane his neck to look up at her.

He decided he hated it.

—

The bear was tall. It was a towering expanse of snow white mass. A snowy mountain in the middle of Axis. She didn’t know how tall her bear was, it was hard to walk up to a measuring stick in bear form. Humans were normally around and they never reacted pleasantly to a surprise bear appearance in the wild. But, if Nora had to guess, and today she was guessing, she would say she was ten feet tall standing on her bear tippy-beans. Which was much taller than Emili’s tiny five foot something stature. Her head brushed against Axis’s ceiling. Emilio couldn’t even reach the ceiling without standing on something. Ha. She was going to get him a mug that said Short King after this. He’d hate that. Bear’s couldn’t smirk. Nora wasn’t sure if it was the elongated snout, or her own inability to master facial expressions, but she did her damndest to try and put a smirk on the bear’s face.

Emilio was complaining. Perro was a good sport. Nora was very cognizant about being careful not to move. The bear was big, and could crush a little fellow like Perro, which was exactly what she didn’t want. Babadook and Munch on the other hand? Unimpressed. The traitors that lived in her crypt, rent free, had no interest in the shenanigans. As if turning into a bear lost its novelty the more you saw someone do it. Whatever. At least she had Emilio’s annoyance to make it up for. Nora raised her bear arms up, accompanying the movement with a shower of illusionary sparks. TADA!

Nora let herself drop back into the human. Her body once again breaking and repairing until she was the human, standing there. Nora bent down to give the best audience member some well earned pets. “You’re just jealous that my trick was good. And because I’m taller than you.” Nora retorted to her worst audience member.

—

Somehow, the bear looked smug. Maybe it was just because Emilio knew that the bear was Nora, and knew Nora well enough to know that she’d be immeasurably smug about having ‘won’ this particular argument, but he could have sworn he saw a damn smirk on the bear’s face. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking decidedly unamused as the bear towered over him. Her ears brushed the ceiling, and Axis didn’t have particularly tall ceilings — it was a cheap apartment in a building full of cheap apartments, meaning there was very little space to speak of at all so that more units could be squished in for ultimate profitability — but it wasn’t something Emilio could reach.

He glared at the bear, and Perro sniffed at her foot with his tail swinging wildly back and forth in spite of his owner’s insistence that he’d be terrified of her. Emilio wondered, absently, if Bear Nora and Nora Nora smelled the same to the little dog, if he could tell, somehow, that the massive form in front of him was the same small girl who often fed him carrots and scratched him fondly behind the ears. Emilio could only roll his eyes as the bear’s arms raised, the motion very human in spite of the giant paws. Mocosa.

As she began to revert to human, he averted his eyes and grabbed the blanket someone had left on his couch. (Javi, maybe? Arden or Wynne?) Without looking, he tossed it in Nora’s direction. “I think it’s cheating if you have to turn into a bear to be taller than me,” he insisted stubbornly. “I think it doesn’t count.”

—

Nora grabbed the blanket being tossed at her, wrapping it around herself. Belatedly she looked down at the pile of shredded clothes at the feet. She owed Van a new shirt. And pants. Those had been Van’s clothes she was wearing today. At least Van would find this situation funny when she explained it to her friend later. Luckily her jacket was safely stowed on the back of her chair. Her piercings had also fled during the transformation. Nora really had to be more careful about taking things off before transforming, but that really would have ruined the hilarity of the moment.

“But I am the bear. The bear is just the body I don’t use often.” Nora countered. “I am the human and the bear at both times. All times, right? Which is why I’m never a human. Which means I am always taller than you no matter which body I’m currently in.” Part of coming to terms with being a bugbear had been coming to terms that she wasn’t human, which was weird considering she had a human form she could and mostly resided in. But she was the human and the bear. It was all very confusing. “I am taller than you.” Nora reasserted. “It’s okay. People love short kings, Mimi. It’s okay that you are the tiniest human known to all of humanity.”

—

There was a t-shirt laying on the floor. One of Emilio’s, discarded God only knew when, God only knew where, but Perro must have brought it into the living room at some point. He did that, sometimes; collected Emilio’s things and dragged them under the couch, build a little nest for himself with them. Emilio had often found socks, shirts, boxers, even a pair of jeans in the dog’s little lair from time to time. It came in handy now. He tossed the shirt at Nora, figuring that in her ‘human’ form, it’d probably go down past her knees.

“That’s not how it works,” Emilio insisted, even though Nora wasn’t wrong. She was always the bear, even when she didn’t look like a bear. A bugbear was a bugbear the same way a hunter was a hunter, but shifters made Emilio’s head ache in a way other supernatural creatures didn’t. He didn’t think he’d ever understand them entirely. But he didn’t really need to, either, did he? It was all right, he was learning, to just let things be. “I’m not — I am not short. Or tiny. I am taller than most people.” It wasn’t his fault that Wicked’s Rest evidently attracted giants alongside supernatural creatures. Anywhere else in the world, 5’11” was fairly tall. He’d been taller than both Edgar and Rosa — the only real edge he’d had over his siblings. And he was taller than Nora, no matter what she said. “I am going to make you do extra work. For being terrible.”

—

Nora caught the shirt, it was nice that she wouldn’t need to walk back home naked except for the jacket. That was thoughtful. But what wasn’t thoughtful was that Emilio was telling her she was wrong. “That is how it works.” Nora insisted. “I’m always the bear, and the bear is tall, so I am always tall.” It was logical, probably. Presumably. “You’re just jealous that you are shorter than me. And everyone else.” Nora said, knowing full well that the gang of friends she hung out with were all the same size as her human and her human was not very tall. Nora rolled her eyes as he began threatening her with extra work. “You’re being unbearable.”

Snap. Crackle. Pop. Nora was a bear again. The blanket fell to the ground intact and she clutched the shirt he had given her in her paw. If he was going to be unbearable, she was going to be a bear and taller than him. Nora let out a bellowing bear roar as if to say “Try and give me work now, Mimi.” and “I’m taller than you!” All at once.

—

“I am not shorter than everyone,” Emilio insisted. He was beginning to wonder if he should buy some kind of a chart marking average height just to prove Nora wrong. But, knowing Nora, she’d claim the chart was all fabricated information, anyway. She had a habit of that, he thought fondly. But he was careful not to let this fondness show on his face. Instead, he only rolled his eyes at her pun, waving a hand in her direction. “Terrible,” he said again. “I’m going to give you the worst case files. The ones with guys in tracksuits.” He wasn’t even sure what case files they had on their agenda at the moment, but there was always at least one mind numbing enough to serve as punishment.

And punishment would certainly be just. He could see that glint in her eye, offering the briefest of warnings and eliciting a groan before she grew again, stretching up, up, up as she morphed from girl to bear. The bear roared in a way that shook the walls, though that was hardly a difficult task. “You are going to get me kicked out,” he said pointedly. “Jeff is going to call the landlord and complain. And then what? I live in your crypt? No.”

—

Nora would take the men in tracksuit cases. She would take the ones that involved her sitting in place for a few hours for a chance to snap the photo they needed. She’d take the ones that involved getting in a dumpster and digging through heaps of discarded junk. Because this was funny. The ever growing frustration as Emilio realized he was fighting a losing battle. A new dynamic to the banter that was theirs. There was a second, a brief moment, where she wondered if this was what growing up bugbear would have been like. A place where the bear was an accepted part of her and not something she had to hide away from everyone. If her own dads would have groaned and scolded her for being a bear when she should have been human. But those thoughts were not something to hold onto, not when there was mischief to be made.

Emilio was complaining again. Jeff would call the landlord and he would have to live in her crypt. He would be so lucky to live in her crypt. It was the best place to live in Wicked’s Rest, and she knew she didn’t even have to say it. Nora let out a bear grumbling noise to convey the thought. But she relented, if only to make sure he didn’t live in her crypt. She’d never hear the end of how unsafe it was. “Nora there’s a zombie outside. Nora there are ghouls here.” Or some shit and they would only show up because he was there. The graveyard had been perfectly safe so far. A girl again, she threw on the shirt. “The weather is great up there, in case you were wondering. Not that you’d know. Only having short people air.”

—

Emilio had never been particularly good with people. He was gruff, he was short-tempered, he was bad at understanding things that everyone else seemed to pick up on with ease. It was why Axis’s reviews were so shitty in spite of his decent skills as a detective — he was good at the investigation, but he sucked at dealing with the people who asked for it. Delivering someone news that their spouse was, in fact, sleeping with someone else wasn’t something he knew how to do gently. If it were him, after all, he’d want the facts without any sugarcoating. Most people, unfortunately, wanted that sugar. Interpersonal relationships were another thing he struggled with. He could do casual acquaintanceships, but anything deeper than that? Anything that required him to show more of himself than he wanted to show? He was bad at that. Most people didn’t like that much, but not Nora. Nora was fine with Emilio the way he was.

Even if she was a little annoying about it sometimes.

Luckily, he knew that she didn’t want him living in her crypt any more than he wanted to live in a graveyard. They’d both be utterly miserable with the arrangement, which Emilio would insist upon despite having at least one or two other people who’d probably allow him to crash with them if he got evicted. He’d make himself miserable and live in a crypt if it meant Nora would suffer, too, just to be petty, and she knew that, so she shifted back into human form and threw on the shirt he’d tossed her. When she was dressed, he turned her way again, arms crossed over his chest. “You are the worst,” he told her seriously. “I’m going to fire you.” An empty threat. They both knew that, too.

—

“You can fire me if you want.” Nora replied easily, aware of the empty threat. What would be the point? Nora had grown into Axis like a mold, creeping into a space they hadn’t known existed and finding she belonged there. Even if Emilio didn’t want a mold growing there or not. “It’ll just mean I can do less when I come to enjoy your free air conditioning. Say goodbye to my computer, help goodbye, I’m a fired freeloader.” Nora paused for a second, “With all my new spare time, I can invite Jeff over. We’ll become best friends. I saw friendship bracelets in a show once. Maybe we can make matching ones. With knives at the end. For stabbing neighbors.”

Truth was, and Emilio probably knew it, even if he fired, he she would still show up and do what had become her job. She enjoyed the work. She loved the investigation. She hoped to be as good as him one day. The job, the thrill of chasing answers, was almost enough to get someone to forget the crystals that had coated her body. The perfect example of who she’d always wanted to be. Almost. But nothing would truly get the taste of perfection out of her mouth. “Jeff is taller than you.” Nora wasn’t sure if that was true or not. Both of them were taller than her human, hard to compare when she hadn’t seen them next to each other. “He’ll understand how nice the weather is up there.”

—

Even if the threat did carry weight, she was right that firing her wouldn’t really change much. Nora would still come over and Emilio would still let her. She’d do just as much ‘work’ as she did now, which was to say very little. But he liked calling her his assistant, and he was pretty sure she liked telling people she was a detective. “Do not invite Jeff into my house,” he warned. “He comes here enough with no inviting, anyway.” Even if he weren’t gifted with a built-in undead detector, he would have known Jeff wasn’t a vampire. The guy barged into his apartment without invitation every other morning. “And don’t get him a bracelet. I think he would eat it or something.” There was really no telling with Jeff.

He shot her a glare as she spoke again, and anyone who didn’t know him well would think it a heated look. For Nora, though, and other people who’d spent enough time with Emilio to grow used to his various expressions, it would be fairly obvious that there was no real anger behind the expression. If anything, the look carried a certain softness to it, a fond exasperation. “Jeff is not taller than me.” He actually wasn’t sure. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Jeff standing up straight. “Are you finished being annoying today? There are things we need to be doing.”

—

The look of exasperation coupled with the subject change, Nora took that as her victory. Both had thrown around empty threats. Both had bantered as if life was normal again. As if Nora had never been a crystal obsessed with the mines and trying to get everyone she knew to move in there. Because the world did go on, no matter what devastating events happened. She wondered if anything new was happening with Emilio. Wynne had hinted at a few things, but the conversation between the two of them had been so normal. So regular. It was nice, for this moment, to exist and be happy. “Finished being annoying? No can do boss. That’s what I get paid the big bucks for.” Nora made her way back to her desk, folding herself back onto the chair, careful to retain balance so it didn’t fall to the ground. “Imagine if I stopped annoying you and you felt comfortable in your own home.” Nora shook her head, as if that would be the worst possible outcome. “Don’t worry, I can be annoying and get to the things that need doing.” Nora opened her laptop, flipping past the tab with all her research on it and opening up youtube. There were a few videos she just knew Emilio would hate seeing. She started sending them to him.

(bonus banner bc me and fish accidentally made two)

#honeysmokedham #nora: the bearffice #wickedswriting

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plentyoffandoms · 2 years

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Main Masterlist ♡ Top Gun Maverick Masterlist ♡ Jake "Hangman" Seresin Masterlist ♡ Still the One Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: Some swearing. Hope you all like it.

Also please don't come at me for not knowing Naval terms or their training. This is just fiction.

Gifs & photos do not belong to me.

Summary: There has only ever been one woman to rein in the ladies man that is Jake 'Hangman' Seresin. Too bad he let her get away. He has never fully moved on, always hoping that he would see her again one day. Just his luck that there is a bunch of new nurses that were hired.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin's POV

"And that is all for today. Tomorrow at 0600, there will be a group run. I expect everyone to be there and if you're not, you will have bathroom duty."

I groaned to myself when I heard Maverick say we have to run tomorrow. He is still insisting on us doing team building exercises.

I would rather us do something else instead of waking up that early, but there is nothing that I can do, unless I feel like cleaning out the urinals.

"Hey man, did you hear that there are a bunch of civilian nurses that got hired. They will be here tonight." Fanboy said to me.

That brought a smile to my face. Civilians love a man a uniform and when I tell her what I do, oh boy, they always thank me for my service to our country.

'I always loved you in your uniform Jake.'

Her voice popped into my head. At that moment I could picture her the first time she said it to me.

It was just after our third date and I was showing YN a few photos of some of the people I have been training with.

"Save some for the rest of us." Coyote teased.

"If they want a piece of me, how can I deny them this?" They all groaned around me.

"Just don't go home with two of them like you did last time." Payback called out.

I smirked at him but what they didn't know what was that I left with two of them and that was because I knew them.

I knew them from when YN and I were dating and I was trying to get them to tell me anything about her.

"You're the one that messed up Jake." Ashley told me.

"You don't think I know that? I spend every single day knowing I messed up the one good thing that I had in my life."

"YN has moved on. Maybe it is time you did too." Cora said to me.

It felt like I got punched in the stomach when she said that. She has moved on?

Of course she did. What was she gonna do? Wait for me to grow up and realise that she is the one for me?

I was hoping she would, but I was just too damn late.

The next morning I woke up before my alarm. Angry at the fact that I have to be up at 5:20 AM.

Last night Maverick told us all that we will be running on the beach and that afterwards we will have the day to ourselves. So I made sure to pack for a day at the beach.

"Great everyone is here. Now we have a special guest with us. She heard that we will be running on the beach today and she asked to join us. Please welcome one of the new nurses, YN LN."

No, it couldn't be.

But there she was. Smiling and saying good morning, but once her eyes landed on me, the smile somewhat faltered.

YN'S POV:

I knew there could of been a high chance of running into Jake here. He could of been stationed at any of the locations I applied at.

"Okay, wasting daylight. Let's go." Pete said. I figured I would run behind them as I am not trying to be in competition with anyone.

Of course Jake ran past me and we did make eye contact briefly.

I ended up beside Natasha, who they call Phoenix. She seems nice enough. We didn't talk all that much as I was felt like I was dying from running.

I didn't realise how far we ran. "If anyone is not spending the day at the beach, Penny agreed to come and get them and drive them back to where we started after she drops off some beach supplies." Pete said.

I didn't want to be the only one to head back, so I went a bit down the beach so the group of them could spend the day together.

I went knee deep in the water, enjoying the sun on my skin. I tilted my head back slightly and closed my eyes.

But then I heard someone stand next to me. I was hoping it was Natasha, but it wasn't my luck.

"Hello Jake."

"How did you know it was me?" I opened my eyes and I turned to look at him. He looked good. Real good.

"Well you still wear the same cologne and it was the one I got you for your birthday." The last birthday I spent with him.

"Oh."

Awkward silence.

"How have you been?" He asked me after clearing his throat.

"Been doing good. Excited to be here actually. Needed something new and yourself?"

"Being one of the best Naval Aviators out there." He smiled but I didn't smile back.

"You know you don't have to show off for me. I know who you are Jake." The smile fell from his face.

"I know. It just came out of me."

I wanted to tell him that Ashley and Cora told me that he asked about me.

"So, got anyone in your life?"

"Me? Her name is Alice." I watched as a stunned look came over his face.

"Her?"

"Yes, her."

"How did you two meet?" I was going to answer him but my cell rang. I looked to see who was calling and I held up my finger to him.

"Hey baby."

"When are you going to be home?"

"Just after dinner Alice."

"But Mom," I heard my sister cut my daughter off. "Do not whine. This is her first day."

"Look I gotta go, I love you and I will see you later okay?"

"Yes Mom. I love you too." The line went dead.

"That was her I take it?" The sound of his voice was hurting.

"Yeah, it was."

"I gotta go. I'll catch you around YN."

I wanted to stop him. To let him know that I wasn't seeing anyone. That the person I was talking on the phone with was his nine year old daughter.

Part 2

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick fic #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin fic #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x female reader #jake hangman seresin x you #hangman seresin x reader #hangman seresin x f!reader #hangman seresin x female reader #hangman seresin imagine #hangman seresin fic

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hospitalterrorizer · 6 months

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diary87

12/7-8/2023

thursday - friday

“Did you say the stars were worlds, Tess?" "Yes." "All like ours?" "I don't know, but I think so. They sometimes seem to be like the apples on our stubbard-tree. Most of them splendid and sound - a few blighted." "Which do we live on - a splendid one or a blighted one?" "A blighted one.” - Thomas Hardy, Tess of the D'Urbervilles

as my girlfriend was hiding from being shot, she was hiding in the dark with her colleague, she checked her email because as people were unsure if the shooting was still taking place, or even that the man had been shot by police, someone who must have had the alert, and had access, to the registry of everyone teaching interdisciplinary studies, their emails, to send this message (credit to roberto lovato on twitter):

she did not receive this email, instead she had received one saying that the landlord is not going to be renewing any leases at this apartment complex, and that we will have to move by march.

the shooter was eventually shot by police, but no one knew for sure if it was multiple people. this was circulating, sent to me by my cousin:

he told me to listen to the police scanner, so i did. they were clearing every room, slowly, it took them hours to get to where my gf was, and along the way, anyone who stepped out, anyone who tried to flee, was pointed at with a rifle, held up by pigs, basically. the terrorism did not ever end for any of them, all at the brink of pissing themselves because they didn't want to scare a police officer and get killed. one of my gf's colleagues had a rifle pointed at him while he was trying to go piss, and they called him a straggler, and told him to fuck off, basically.

there was, simultaneous to the shooting, someone being arrested in a hotel, near campus, this seemed related to people online i think, but i never got a clear vision of what that was. all there is now, is one dead shooter, only attacking the business school building, specifically hunting down faculty after being told they would not hire him. he also sent out poisonous letters, it seems, to faculty of old schools he worked at, and places that also refused to hire him. he posted the content of the letters online. they aren't worth reproducing, i guess, they are wildly misogynistic, at the same rate, he seems to have been driven insane by academia, and pushed towards reactionary tendencies by being useless to help anyone really or accomplish anything in terms of making it not a special kind of hell. he accuses multiple people of fucking their students, he calls himself a genius constantly, he is paranoid of marxists, and on his website he also has a lot of writing re: conspiracy theories, he liked alex jones. overall, he was terrified and disgusted. he believed people he worked with were doing things like seeing child prostitutes in thailand, using work resources for csa materials. i don't know how much of that is paranoia directed at someone who might have been gay (this kind of accusation is common to level at gay people, as we see especially now), he even accused who i assume might have been lesbian coworkers of having their students give them head, or if this is somehow, a little real. i know these things do happen, teachers using their students. favors for sex between faculty, too. incapable of confronting the material causes of the hell we are in (actually dealing w/ marx intellectually/trying to understand) this particular business teacher/economist doubled down on the capitalist fantasy of meritocracies and conspiracy to account for his failings.

there is little sympathy, but there's something unpleasantly complicated about how he got to where he got. he was desperate for work, to cling to a life i guess. he took issue, and tried to kill faculty in the business school.

the police relocated many students out of their dorms, into a giant stadium, i don't know why, i guess to hunt for any potential other gunmen.

we saw my friends last night, after all of this, and we did fun stuff, but this other shit is still here, the unsurety of our housing, the guns, the police, but whatever i guess, right.

it's crazy seeing parts of the world act like this is all unreal. there is a massive amount of faith in the hyperreal, which maintains its existence, i wonder if baudrillard ever mentioned that. i don't recall, but in the semantic processes, the image making, the visions, the map that exceeds the territory, or the map which gifts us our territory, there is massive faith in those laws and processes, the positivity always, a super-ideal reality, there is only the heavensent, and so, tragedy, horror, abjection, are either absorbed as highly intentional events which seek to make something of humanity, or untrue totally. horror becomes either plan, god, or nothing at all.

everything defused, and at the center, the police managing, keep information blurry, they themselves not wanting to believe anything other than the activity they are engaged in is helpful, problems are imagined to keep the policing going, upwards, upwards, upwards. they do not realize it is all death, sinking into static images forever, no great upheavals, even the shooter is under this order, he doesn't realize that this is what he hates.

anyway, anyway, anyway, i don't know.

i don't think we live in a place where people are supposed to be, if you care about anything, there is only a terrible grinding, and not knowing. i've had nightmare about my girlfriend being killed like that. i'm so dependent on her. i don't know what i'd do. i don't like the world, i think maybe, i can admit, i don't like a lot of people. it's awful to say, i think. but everything is going to make me sick. hearing about teachers trying to keep school running like normal are so disgusting, and idiotic. the normal cannot disappear. people dying just has to be normal. there is no war on the public, there never was, new ways to die, urban hazards, there is nothing to see other than antibiotic responses to disease, and it's okay to see it.

the rodeo is in town, as she was taken to the stadium, she was taken thru barbed wire, and led in a snake-shaped path or something by a guy in army gear with an ar15, probably, and ended up somewhere in front of a barbecue food truck. there were cowboys milling around. as people were hiding in the dark i was watching the horses from our window, and the alarm and its robotic voice said words, they weren't even scared of it anymore, no whinnying. nothing.

it woke me up, i didn't think it could be that, my girlfriend told me it was and i didn't even ask if it was what i thought it could be. i don't know. she was in the dark, her colleagues argued, some at least, they were all horrified about this happening. obviously. nothing will happen, though. we are all going to collectively deal with the fact, and forced to act like this is not a fact, creating a quiet misery that we will either forget or use as staging grounds for a horrible kind of birth, of what i can hardly say, tumorous sadness i guess, that we now live in a world where this will never be taken back, and that there is no response possible, at least at the level of each of us alone. together, what could we do, all there is in my heart is the wish for a world wholly different.

i can't get over the email she received, and that we are unsure of what will happen. all either of us have done is live/survive, it feels like some kind of punishment.

i know it's not the whole world, and that landlords are especially shit. it's just extreme, i dunno, it feels like this is reproduced everywhere, on every level. maybe i am just winded and weak.

i am craving some sort of punishment, i just want to be ended but i want it to be funny i guess. that makes me greedy/selfish, i can't stop wanting it though. i just want to be exploded. tortured and left on the side of the road. right now is just that without the fun parts (possibly puking, blood, being connected to my body).

instead i am just distantly afraid.

an intolerable heat, i guess.

yesterday we saw the christmas lights at this chocolate factory. that was nice. it was very pretty, my gf saw these angel ornaments, all lit up and stuff, and she said they're like the ones in fwwm, to take me away, she meant it in a sweet way, but it made me realized all over again what that scene means to me, and how i felt then, just wanting to escape all of this awful stuff. but it's sad, i want to be here for her. i wish we could go away forever. into a life that is not shoved into various unrealities at all times.

anyway, look at these sprites from despiria.

i'm tired, now, so

byebye!!!!!!

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the-masked-ram · 9 months

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Wallowing in Corruption- Chapter One

CW: NSFW, Fem Reader, Drug induced Quirks, Drug Addiction, Alcohol use, Gangs, Politics, Complex plot, Morally Grey chars, Dark Chars, Abduction, Corrupted Police

----

Chapter One: Dread

It was funny, if you thought about tonight in the terms of some trashy crime novel; the air was sticky and thick with a feeling of dread. Like something was waiting in the shadows to devour you whole. Sadly, this wasn’t some book, this was life in Sin City, and the likelihood of dying that night was just as high as some poor unsuspecting victim in a thriller. Dying here would be more permanent, however.

Your steps were quick as you checked your watch for what had to be the eighth time. Glad that you had gone with short, chunky heels instead of the taller slim ones you had been eyeing at home, you were able to rush more easily to your job. It would make the night go smoother, and maybe at the end your feet wouldn’t be on fire.

Five minutes to go and you were right at the corner of the block where the venue was being held. You would be there with a few minutes to spare, maybe then you could calm your racing heart before the meeting. Surprisingly, you didn’t even know who the customer was this time. Usually, during most catering jobs, your company sent out at least a small profile. This time, all you knew was the menu, and how loaded this person was looking at the area and the food you were serving.

Stepping into the employee entrance, the temperature immediately dropped five degrees and your trepidation increased. Were you imagining it all? The feeling that something was waiting for you. That something would be happening tonight? You knew in these cities that this sensation wasn’t something to ignore. But ignorance was such a blissful feeling. So instead of lingering on the paranoia that buzzed insistently through your nerves, you focused on your job and pushed away the thought of running for your life.

The pretty trays filled with delicate hors d’oeurves were waiting in the kitchen as you and your coworkers gathered around the manager.

“Alright team, tonight is a big one. We are serving the Shie Hassaikai, specifically the Shepard’s Party that they have every two months. If we do well,” her gaze fell on every single one of you. “We may get hired again. So, don’t let me down.”

That’s the yakuza, your eyes narrowed slightly with the realization. Though you didn’t say anything, the thought that you would be serving one of the largest criminal organizations in the country, settled like a stone in the back of your mind.

Still you started, picking up your tray without a moment’s hesitation. On the shiny gold platter was several flutes of blush colored wine, the glass sparkling enticingly as the lights caught them. You stepped out of the side door of the kitchen; the crowd had started to fill out as the party began.

Masks covered most people’s faces, most of them modeled after various animals. You were taking in the multitude of faces when a man, with his lower face covered in an elaborate plague doctor’s mask- emphasis on the bird persona- stepped out of a large door with a keypad, and into your path.

Acting on instinct, you pulled the tray aside and your opposite shoulder glanced off his arm. With a slight grunt he looked down at you, raising an elegant brow which was set over the most beautiful pair of molten gold eyes. Eyes that were deceptively heated due to their color, but actually cold with judgement. They flicked over you and it was too easy to see the disapproving sneer behind his mask.

“Watch where you’re going! I didn’t pay this much to have bumbling idiots as my servers, and don’t spill a drop of that wine,” his stare sharpened and though his tone was condescending, you could almost see a glint of playful mockery in his gaze.

“Sorry, sir,” you swallowed, his words made you painfully aware that this man was your boss for the night, a man who could probably gut you in front of his guests and no one would bat an eye. “I’ll be careful, I promise. If you could excuse me.”

You bobbed your head and readjusted the weight of the flutes on the serving dish, making your way through the slowly growing crowd. The heavy weight of a pair of eyes on your back didn’t even register as you left the man back at the door. He hummed thoughtfully for a moment before readjusting the gloves on his hands and pressing two buttons on the keypad, causing a heavy grating sound to come from a mechanism inside the closed door.

You were already far into the crowd when he looked back to where you’d been, his brows drew together just slightly. The environment tonight felt odd. It’d been a while since it felt so ominous to the yakuza, and he hadn’t gotten so far ahead by ignoring the city’s warnings. There was always a little breath that escaped it, foretelling of death.

He would talk to security, he stepped down the hall, before once again looking into the crowd over his shoulder as if his eyes were magnetically drawn to a force that was no longer there.

You, on the other hand, walked towards a table where two men sat. One had his hair swept back into a styled bun, his suit a smartly pressed black Italian number with a tie that was goldenrod yellow. He wore a grey and white wolf mask with a similar golden trim to his tie, talking low and intensely to a man in front of him. That man wore something far less proper, a long blue trench coat, his ears adorned in piercings and… staples… were those medical staples along his cheeks, and burns?!

You avoided gaping, instead dropping your gaze just enough to notice a package filled with little white ovals, slip from a scarred hand to one elegantly cuffed in black, “Hello, sirs, did you want a drink?”

Carefully you raised your eyes. Keeping your expression blank and cheery, a tilt to your head and a smile stretching across your face.

The man with the wolf mask seemed taken aback at your appearance, dark eyes blinking. One hand shifted to discreetly slip into his pocket.

“That’s alright, doll, I’m more of a whiskey lover,” you shifted your gaze to the man with what looked like a silver dragon mask covering the upper half of his face, the staples on his jaw glinting in the low light, as he answered.

You wondered if the rest of him looked like that, and as your stare drifted to his, your breath caught, the intensity of the blue was not something you were prepared for. What was with the men and their eyes tonight? Must have just been the masks making them pop.

A shiver fluttered over your skin as the scarred man’s companion cleared his throat, and you nodded your head politely.

“Ah, of course, I’m sorry for interrupting. If you need anything later, sirs, please find me or one of my coworkers,” you said and slipped back into the crowd.

Both men watched the soft sway of your hips until it was impossible to tell you apart from the rest of party goers. The air had become stifling, and they considered one another over the table.

The cop ran a finger and thumb along the tiny zip lock in his pocket, soothed by the smoothness and the contents within. He stood, excusing himself from the table, no longer wanting to be around the other man now that the deal had been done.

The other man however was looking at the spot where you had been standing. He breathed deeply, steadily, trying to soothe his stuttering heart. What were you doing here? This wasn’t the place for you. Fuck, you should have left the city ages ago, but serving at the Shepard’s Party? He had tried so hard… so hard to forget….

He grimaced and stepped toward the bar, he needed to drown his thoughts in whiskey and maybe some pussy.

You were deep in the crowd when your platter had been emptied. Pressing the top against your chest to make maneuvering easier, you ducked and weaved through the group. You were in the corner, catching your breath because the heat and press of bodies seemed to suck the oxygen right from your lungs.

Laying behind a potted plant to your right was a tiny clear bag that caught your eye, zipped tight at the top, with a small group of pills in it. You squatted and picked it up, staring hard at the unassuming objects, noticing the bright red hook shape stamped on both sides. You cocked your head to the side, pursing your lips thoughtfully, before the lights dropped and the room went pitch black.

The sounds of gasps and dramatic yells cascaded around you. Your muscles froze, tightening your fist around the bag and you focused on the black space in front, hoping you could force your eyes to adjust.

The sound of voices calling out, a door slamming and the call again, “SIN CITY POLICE! DON’T MOVE! COME ALONG QUIETLY!”

The feeling of your heart kicking into overdrive and your blood rushing into your ears made everything all too real. Chaos started to descend very quickly, jostling bodies that couldn’t be seen, whipping wind as people rushed to escape. Fuck, you couldn’t get caught here. Not with your hands around a packet of unknown pills. Was this what the feeling of trepidation was alluding to earlier?

The sound of a muffled curse next to you and a hand grabbing your upper bicep had you biting your lip as you struggled against the iron grip moving you forward.

“Don’t fight me,” the man hissed.

You couldn’t recognize the voice, and you couldn’t tell if it was a cop or a party goer. As you slipped into a hallway brightness from a cell phone light popped on, and you managed to catch the edge of a mask. Recognizing it from a party goer who had caught your eye earlier that night.

Is it: Chisaki Kai? Aizawa Shota? Dabi?

#bnha #mha #dabi x fem reader #chisaki kai x reader #aizawa x reader #fanfiction #cyoa

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