#are they seen as smarter because they are from old blood?
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Now we've seen Whitestone, I want to comment on Culture in Critical Role, and how there are some fundamental aspects of DnD which make it unsuitable for exploring cultural differences.
I've seen some very valid posts about how Marquet in C3 isn't used to its full potential as a cultural setting, among others because most of the PCs are not native to Marquet. But while I fully agree, I want to broaden the argument even further: neither were Wildemount, Xhorhas or Tal'dorei.
I believe that Dungeons and Dragons is ill equipped to explore cultural differences, because there are key aspects of culture that it actively ignores: language, food and weather.
To start with language. In almost all versions of DnD or fantasy, everyone speaks common. This solves one of the main issues in world building, because it allows the players to travel the world without the issues that stem from not speaking a language. However, language is one of the main tools people use to distinguish themselves from others. Language, accent, tone, vocabulary and even grammar change based on who you are, where you come from and whom you're speaking to. But because everyone in Exandria speaks English like the cast do, they have a uniform culture, whether they are from Wildemount, Tal'dorei or Marquet. Even Caleb, who comes closest to breaking this pattern, is not truly Zemnian, because Liam (and Matt) doesn't actually speak German. Apart from the German accent and some German words, he doesn't speak like a non native German English speaker would.
Next up, food. Apart from some quick mentions of breakfast or dinner, food is almost always an afterthought. The Bell's Hells do not stop for lunch, and rations are almost never a problem. However, food is intrinsically linked to culture. What food is served, when food is served, and with whom food is eaten differs from place to place and from class to class. Is the food imported or is it grown locally? Is food served at 6PM sharp or much later? Do you eat with the whole family and is there always a surplus or do you have to fight for the scraps? What is the street food like? What spices are used? How does Xhorhas' cuisine differ from Wildemount, given that they live in perpetual night? But ultimately, the pie in Marquet is no different from the pie in Byroden, because again, the default will be the casts' default.
Finally, weather. While it might seem arbitrary, weather influences almost all aspects of our lives, from our homes, to our clothes, to our relationships. Is it warm enough to sit outside during the evening? This will encourage parties and late bedtimes. It is cold and rainy? People will sit inside pubs to stay warm. Colder and warmer climates, hot and dry climates, each of these influence when people are active and how they behave. Apart from the extremes, like the snow in Eiselcross, or the heat in the Fire Plane, the characters never have to deal with rain, or mist, or cold. They don't have to take shelter, they don't wake up cold, they don't need to keep a fire going or set up tents. And as such, there is no difference between a warm and hot jungle surrounding Jrusar or a high mountain trail in Zephrah, nor are the people who live there different.
There can be much more said about each of these three aspects of culture, and there are probably more examples to be given. And this is not intended as a excuse, or a reason for Matt not to try better. But sadly, DnD as a system glosses over most of the day-to-day interactions that make a city a particular city, or a culture a particular culture. And the default will always be the players' default.
#critical role#cr meta#dungeons and dragons#dnd meta#I have no solution for this#but it struck me as I saw the valid criticisms#matt is good at differentiation between say nobles and common folk#but not between cultures#and dnd does not make it easy#for example#trent ikithon and caleb who speak with a notable zemnian accents#what does this mean for people's perception of them?#are they seen as smarter because they are from old blood?#or are they seen as stupid because they are from rural areas?#there is nuance there that isn't explored#same with imogen#is her southern accent native to marquet?#we can't even describe her accent without mentioning the in real life place were it is from#so how is this linked to exandria?
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raising hell all over town
pairing: best friend's dad!joel x f!reader
summary: you've been a friend of sarah's since you were old enough to steal bottles of her dad's whiskey for parties. sarah was always the sensible one in your friendship, getting you out of the trouble you usually started. but now sarah has gone off to college, who else but joel could pick up the pieces?
content/warnings: 18+ mdni. alcohol. drugs. age gap. violence/fighting. smut: unprotected p in v, spanking
a/n: inspired by this gif set, and the wonderful @amanitacowboy & @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for introducing me to that yellowstone scene
kind of nervous about this, my first proper smutty fic - i find smut really difficult to write for some reason (weird because i'm feral horny 24/7) so this was kinda out of my comfort zone but i hope you all enjoy!
PSA: i no longer have a taglist! feel free to follow my updates blog @breakfastupdates and turn the post notifs on to be notified when i post a new fic :)
Friday nights in Austin felt incomplete without Sarah by your side.
For years, she had been the epitome of your partner in crime; dragging you back to her place or putting you in a cab before the cops were called.
Had it not been for your fierce loyalty and protectiveness over Sarah, you're sure her dad would've barred you from the house years ago. Sarah was smarter than you in almost every way. Academically, emotionally, you name it.
Joel knew this, and he trusted the two of you together knowing you both balanced the other out. Watching the two of you reminded Joel of a younger version of himself and Tommy, always thankful that Sarah had followed in his footsteps as opposed to her uncle's.
Your relationship with your parents was rocky, to say the least, and the Miller's house had always been a safe haven for you. Joel had patched up your split lip or bloody nose more times than he wanted to admit for a girl your age. He swore he'd kill your old man one day for the states you'd turned up to their house in.
Still, he couldn't help but feel the urge to grab you by the shoulders and shake some sense into you from time to time. As much as his heart broke for you, it was also in your nature to be a damn brat. Joel had endured countless stifling days spent by the pool forcing himself to not let his eyes linger on the curves of your hips. He struggled to look you in the eye when he saw you sat on the kitchen counter waiting to leave for a party, your mini skirt riding dangerously high on your thighs.
There had been times when he had been reckless. Times that he'd had to pull himself away from your invisible grip on him and relieve his tension in the bathroom, fisting his cock onto the shower floor, biting down on the shape of your name on his tongue.
When he'd re-emerge into the living room, he knew that you knew. You'd look through your eyelashes at him and smile. His cheeks flushed, shame setting in at the speed at which he'd cum from the thought of your pussy clenching around his shaft.
He would never let it show, but something would rush through his body when he'd ask Sarah what the hell she do this time? He remembered one time in particular, as Sarah relayed the events of the night that had led to your bloody nose, he'd looked over at you perching on the counter. With blood leaking down your cupid's bow, you'd locked eyes with him and ran your tongue across your lip, revelling in the remnants of your victory.
Still, you had fine enough nights out with the girls from work. They just didn't get you the way Sarah did. They would shoot you judgemental glances from across the bar that lasted until the Monday back at work for whatever you had done this time that they disapproved of.
"They're just dull. You should see the way they look at me for literally just hooking up with guys." You had lamented to Sarah over the phone while you were both getting ready for your respective nights out on separate sides of the country.
"It's probably because they've seen you get through an entire friendship group before your second drink."
"Well, they should be taking notes. Tell me nobody at college is as fun as me." Jealousy tore through your chest at the thought of Sarah spending her time with new friends.
"Nobody here is as fun as you. They're very... reserved." You scoffed at her politeness.
"Babe, just say they're boring."
"I'm giving them a chance. Anyway, gotta go. Text me tomorrow and tell me the damage. Love ya!"
"Don't have too much fun without me. Love you too."
Despite their judging looks, you were always the first person they called upon to finish any mess they had gotten themselves into. Still, you were happy to oblige, even if it meant a few awkward minutes of silence at the coffee machine on Monday.
The group of you had poured out of an Uber into the busy bar around nine o'clock, buzzing with the confidence of your pre-drinks. Rounds of shots were ordered and consumed at a dizzying pace, and soon enough, bags of powder were discreetly distributed across the table.
"Bathroom?" Hannah, one of your closest and least judgmental co-workers nudged you.
"Thought you'd never ask." The two of you sauntered away from the table, hand-in-hand, quickly bundling into a tight cubicle.
The bathroom filled up as the two of you tried to be as silent as possible, scooping your pinky nails into the small bag.
"Hurry the fuck up!" Someone from outside the cubicle called, thudding her fists against the door.
"Get fucked." You called back, muttering this bitch under your breath to Hannah.
As the two of you packed your things back into your handbags, the cubicle door jolted half open, smacking Hannah in the shoulder.
"Are you fucking serious?" You shouted at the small brunette on the other side of the door, checking Hannah over for injury.
"You hit me, you bitch." She straightened herself up, rubbing her shoulder.
"I'll do worse if you don't fucking move." The brunette hissed in her face.
You screwed your face up and shoved her, making her stumble backwards into the sink. The other girls in the bathroom grabbed their bags and scurried to the exit, evidently not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.
"Apologise." You said, moving toward the girl who was now pulling herself up with the help of the basins on either side of her.
"Fuck you." She spat, saliva hitting your cheek before she lunged forward.
Your fist connected with her nose before she even had time to swing, and your right hand secured a tight grip on the back of her hair.
"I said, apologise to my friend."
"I'm sorry." She choked, pathetically. Her face shrivelled in fear and pain.
"Not so fuckin' big now, are you?" Hannah said, which was ironic, considering the girl who had bruised her was now quivering under your fist.
Content with her apology, you released your grip on her and re-entered the bar with Hannah trailing behind you. As you both rejoined your table, you felt a tap on your shoulder.
"Our friend said you just attacked her in the bathroom." Another petite girl looked up at you, one hand on her hip.
"She hit my friend, here. Was just trying to teach her some manners."
The entirety of your group was now turned to face you, exchanging harsh whispers of your name followed by just leave it.
"You broke her nose!" The girl shrilled. You looked over her shoulder to the girl doubled over, clutching her bloody nose with an ensemble of people crowding around her.
"No, I think it just looks like that."
You grinned at the rage growing behind her eyes, your smile unfaltering even as her fist collided with your cheek.
"Harder." You shouted, rolling your neck from side to side.
"What?!"
"Come on, hit me harder. I know you got it in you." She didn't take much convincing; her next punch knocked you backwards onto the table as everyone rushed to tear the two of you apart.
You stepped forward to finally let her have it when a pair of strong hands pulled you back.
"Get off!" You shouted, kicking against who you assumed to be security throwing you out. You just hoped they weren't calling the cops, too.
"C'mon, doll. You've had enough fun for one night." A familiar Southern drawl cooed, dragging you out into the warm night. "Now, that wasn't very ladylike of you, darlin'."
He let you go from his grip and you turned to face him. To your surprise, you were met with the smirk of the younger Miller brother.
"Tommy." You breathed, "I didn't see you in there."
"Well, lucky I noticed you ain't it." He grinned.
Spending so much time at the Miller's had you well acquainted with Sarah's uncle Tommy. He'd seen you in much worse states than this, and in turn, so had you.
"Didn't need you to swoop in and save me, Tommy."
"Wasn't saving you, sweetheart. Was savin' that poor girl." You both smiled at the tone of pride in his voice.
"You got somewhere to go, trouble? Don't think you should be hangin' round here for too long."
"Can't exactly go home bleeding from my face." You sighed, realising you probably hadn't thought this through. You missed Sarah.
Tommy fished around in his pocket for his phone before raising it to his ear.
"Hey, big brother." Your stomach flipped. "No, no- it's not me. Joel, listen." You could almost hear Joel on the other end of the phone, witnessing it in person more times than you could count. It's not even ten o'clock yet, don't tell me you're locked up already.
"Our favourite little troublemaker needs a place to crash tonight. I'd drive her over but I've already had my fair share of beers. Okay, great. I'll tell her."
Once he'd hung up, Tommy told you that Joel was on his way to come and pick you up. You could feel your heartbeat in your stomach. You'd never been alone with Joel for longer than a couple of hours at most, let alone spending the night at his while Sarah was out of town. Something inside of you twitched in excitement, a warm rush settling deep in your belly.
You told Tommy to go back into the bar, that Joel wouldn't be long and you'd walk down the street to meet him in case those girls came out looking for another round.
As you made your way underneath the streetlights toward the direction of the Miller's house, you pulled your compact from your bag and touched up your make-up, re-curling your lashes and dousing a thick layer of clear lipgloss onto your lips, not bothering to tend to any of the blood trickling down your skin. You spritzed yourself with perfume and ran a brush through your hair, smiling at the thought of Joel seeing you waiting on the curbside for him.
Right on cue, his truck pulled around the corner. You raised your hand and wiggled your fingers, a small smirk spreading across your cheeks.
You were grateful for your earlier decision to wear your knee-high boots with a denim mini-skirt, adding a little extra sway to your hips as you made your way to the passenger side of Joel's truck. You climbed in and turned to face him, flashing him a toothy grin, well aware of the blood staining your teeth.
"You're a damn mess, princess." Something deep inside of you came to life at his words, causing you to visibly clench your exposed thighs together. "S'there I was, thinking to myself how thankful I am for a peaceful night after workin' lates all week. When my phone rings, just as I'd sat down and made myself comfortable."
"Peace is overrated." You replied.
"So, what did you do this time? Steal another cop car? Break into a hotel pool? Make out with someone's husband?"
You played with the hem of your skirt as he spoke, blushing as he listed a few of your past activities he'd either bailed you out of or heard about from Sarah.
"I didn't start this one." You said, a slight whine in your voice. "Someone hit my friend, I was just looking out for her."
"Your friend can't fight her own battles?"
"You never have a problem when it's Sarah I'm throwing punches for."
He scoffed. "Now, you know I've always taught her to never start a fight but always to finish one. You on the other hand, I don't think nobody's taught you anythin' of the sort."
"And are you gonna be the one to do that, Mr Miller?" You mimicked his Texan accent, which was much thicker than yours, and parted your legs in your seat ever so slightly.
"If I didn't know you better, darlin', I'd think you were tryin' to get me in some sort of trouble."
He pulled into the driveway and switched the ignition off before jogging to your side of the truck and holding the door open for you, as well as offering you an outstretched hand.
"Always such a gentleman." You smiled, looking at him through your eyelashes as you stepped out, hand in his.
He exhaled out of his nose, shaking his head softly as he slammed the door shut behind you. His hand moved to the small of your back, guiding you into the house.
"Sarah's bed is all made up, I'm sure you know where her clothes are f'you wanna change into something more... comfortable." His eyes trailed down your figure, your clothes hugging all the right places.
"Do you not like my outfit?" You pouted, holding your hands behind your back and sticking your chest out, swaying from side to side.
"Course not, y'look real pretty. Just thought you'd wanna watch TV before going to sleep is all." Joel brought a hand to the back of his head, rubbing his neck nervously as his eyes shifted to the floor.
For such a handsome man, he was so damn insecure. Maybe it was the gentleman in him, thinking that it was wrong for someone his age to want someone the same age as his daughter. He knew you didn't think like that, Sarah had told him multiple stories about the older men you'd hooked with at the bar.
He'd even caught you making out with a kid from your school's dad a few years ago when he'd come to pick you and Sarah up from a party. Joel had seemingly known the man, and you remembered how he'd stalked out of his truck and toward you both, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and warning him that his wife wasn't going to like hearing about this.
So, you kicked off your boots and took yourself upstairs into Sarah's bedroom. Not bothering to close the blinds, you peeled your clothes off and looked at yourself in the full length mirror.
The warmth of your earlier drinks still coated your inhibitions. You knew you looked good in your black lace set, breasts sat perkily on your chest and your ass cheeks the perfect handfuls.
Fuck it. If he wasn't going to be ballsy enough to make the first move, maybe you should.
You kissed the tips of your fingers and pressed them against a framed photo of you and Sarah giggling at whatever was going on behind the camera.
"Sorry, Sarah." You whispered, before making your way down the stairs.
Joel heard you coming but was too preoccupied fighting with the TV remote control to turn around and face you just yet.
"If I can get this damn thing to work I think they're showin' Scarface at ten, I know you said you ain't seen it so thought we could watch it."
"Sounds good," you spoke, your voice more honeyed than usual. "Hey, Joel. Do you think this will be comfy enough?"
He whipped his head around quickly, ready to give you the same kind of answer he did whenever Sarah asked for his opinion in a changing room. It took a second for him to register what he was looking at, but when it clicked he dropped the remote to the floor and turned his whole body to face you.
"What the hell," his face turned bright red, unsure what to do with his hands. You could give him a few ideas.
"You not like it?" You asked, voice low as you walked slowly in his direction.
His trousers began to tighten around his hardening cock and you smiled, glad that you were indeed on the same page.
"Course I- I, what the hell are you playin' at?"
"Come on, Joel. I gotta make up for interrupting your peaceful night somehow."
You closed the gap between you both and placed a hand delicately on his chest, tracing circles with the tip of your long, manicured nails.
Joel swallowed hard.
"This ain't right." He said weakly, his eyes betraying his words as they devoured the sight of your body before him.
"Cut the shit, Joel. I know you want me, and I want you."
He didn't answer, but instead threw you over his shoulder and carried you up to his bedroom, placing a couple of firm smacks on your ass as you wriggle against his strong grip. Your stomach did backflips, exhilarated at the prospect of what was about to happen.
Upon entering his room, he threw you roughly onto the bed and worked at undoing his belt as you scrambled onto your back, resting on your elbows.
"Y'know what I really thought when Tommy called, tellin' me I needed to come pick you up?" He said, although it didn't sound much like a question. "I thought, this dumb slut needs some sense fucking into her."
You moaned at his words, basking in the side of him that you knew always existed.
“Thought t’myself, she needs teachin’ some fuckin' manners f’once.”
Joel stalked around the side of the bed and sat and patted his lap. Wordlessly, you shifted your weight next to him and dangled your legs over the side of the bed.
He brought his right hand in between your thighs, making you shiver at the feeling of his coarse fingers grazing your skin. He ran his fingers up and down the length of your thigh, each time stopping short of the hem of your skirt.
"This is what you want, ain't it sweetheart?" He spoke lowly, voice gravelly and as rough as his touch. Each night spent tangled and alone in your sheets, fingers grazing your soaked folds with his name on your lips felt redundant. Nothing could come close to the feel of his skin on yours.
Pulling you from your trance, he slapped your inner thigh hard when you didn't respond. "Need t'hear you say it."
"Yes,' you moan through gritted teeth, surprised you can even find your voice. "This is what I need."
Sick of his incessant teasing, you clamber onto his lap and hook your fingers around the back of his neck.
"But I think you need this just as much, Mr Miller. You must get so lonely in this house all by yourself. Sarah always tells me how you never have any lady friends hanging around."
You straddle his lap and grip his neck for support, softly grinding yourself on the hardness of his lap. He moves a hand from your waist to roughly seize your chin, tipping your face down to meet his gaze.
"Your old man must've forgot to teach you some manners, little girl." His low voice tore through your body.
Joel hoists your skirt up to your waist and flips you underneath him in one swift motion. His body looms over yours, fingers trailing a rough and jagged line down to where you need him most. He moved at an antagonising slow pace, but you can't bring yourself to give into his little game by begging for more.
"Here's what we're gonna do, darlin'. You're gonna be a good girl f'me and tell daddy exactly what happened tonight." The mouth on him.
The way your body writhed and squirmed at his words didn't go unnoticed. With no warning, he plunged two thick digits inside of you and held them deep in place, his face inches away from yours.
"N'if you stutter, or lie, or say anythin' I don't like for that matter, you'll be over my knee, red-raw," his fingers curl inside of you and you bite back a moan, desperate to not let him have the upper hand.
"No matter how much you cry those pretty little eyes out, I won't quit 'til you've learnt somethin'. Understood?"
You suck a breath in through your nose, a sharp sting reminding you of the open wound still decorating your face.
"Yes, sir."
part 2 coming soon
taglist: @cool-iguana @nostalxgic @chaotic-mystery @beardedjoel
#my fic#the last of us#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x reader#tlou fanfiction#joel tlou#joel miller x female reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfic#dee rambles#pedrohub#joel miller fanfic#joel miller#joel x reader#no use of y/n#the last of us hbo#the last of us fanfiction#tlou hbo#tlou#joel miller smut#the last of us series#tlou series#dee writes
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Temple of the Forbidden Eye (3)
Indiana Jones x OC
Series Summary: The relationship between student and teacher is strictly professional, or at least it should be. He’s never met his match in archeological intelligence, and if he ever does, it might drive him to do something stupid.
A/n: since indy came out this weekend, here’s a veeeery long chapter to suffice your indy needs
Warnings: oh boy… bullying, good ol’ fashioned misogyny, mentions of past abuse, mentions of blood and bruises (not explicitly), like.. one swear word.
(Co-written by the lovely @theatrelove3000 you guys should go give her a follow)
The late night work became a regular occurrence, along with her occupying the guest room for those nights. She was always gone when Dr. Jones woke up. It concerned him at first, but he figured she just didn't want to be a burden, not that she ever was. The more time he spent around her, the more it became obvious to him that she tried her best to take up as little space as she possibly could.
Since her presence in his home became a regular event, he started keeping food stocked. He made it very clear that he did it for her benefit and she was welcome to anything he has. This led to her making dinner for the both of them often while they worked. He would bring whatever they had been working on with him and set it up on the breakfast counter connected to the rest of his kitchen. She would read between steps or they'd talk about whatever the work was. He came to enjoy these times, even if it was only subconsciously.
Of course, spending as much time with him as she was, it was bound to come back around to bite her. The rumors started relatively quickly. She was able to handle rumors; they'd unfortunately been a major part of her life growing up, and mostly just drew attention from those stupid enough to believe them. That didn't mean she enjoyed the staring, though. She much preferred when she was more or less invisible to her peers and professors. She knew they looked before, that was fine. They were surprised to see a woman in their fancy, expensive classes, let alone one who wears trousers. She didn't mind those looks. Those looks at least were respectful enough to look away when she caught them. Those looks were only because they were shocked to have seen something of her nature…
Now, it's different. Now, they don't look away when she sees them looking. Instead, they throw daggers with their eyes and whisper to each other as she passes. She has had things like this happen before but never for her own decisions. It is different when one makes the choice to continue doing the thing everyone is gossiping about. It made everything more… obvious to her.
Scarlet was many things; traits that she knew she had and traits that people who she entrusted told her she had. Paranoid was not on the list of said traits. She had never had a reason to be paranoid. Perhaps she did now. Jealousy can make a person do terrible things, especially when the person believes they are more entitled to whatever the object of their envy has. Boys don’t like when they are shown up by girls who are supposedly smarter than they are. Little rich boys hate it more than anything else in the world.
The twenty-some year old college goers who sat in front of and across her in Professor Jones’ class, only looking behind or to the side of them when he called on her for every question he asked the students. She was smart, but they all had reason to believe he was favoring her over one thing. Her good looks and time available after school. Everyone had heard about their little arrangement, with her as his ‘apprentice’ though she had never done any work in the field. It all seemed too suspicious for a young girl to be residing at her Professor’s home every other day. Her test scores didn’t lie, but the boys in the class did not exactly have access to those. They only saw what was right in front of their eyes, and it looked to them like a scandal. Teacher’s pet, the favorite of them all. She had what they couldn’t have. They couldn’t possibly look at their own merit and decide that it was the real reason for their lacking, so they insisted it must be the fact that she was getting special attention.
There were two boys in particular, that were especially miffed about her enhanced situation. They had discussed it with one another and took it upon themselves to be the voice of reason, deciding it would be best if she were brought down a few pegs. Just enough to be sure that she wouldn’t feel as high and mighty anymore.
They waited by the glass case of school awards in the hallway closest to Professor Jones’ classroom, pretending to be in full conversation whilst their colleagues walked by. Some of them entered the class, completely unaware of what the foolish boys planned to do.
Down the hall came Scarlet Ledger, accompanied by none other than Henry Jones. No other heads were turned as they walked, however, for it was a rather busy time of day, and the students were more focussed on getting to their next class, rather than who they saw in the way of their destination. Last night, they had gone over a series of notes from an old friend of his, who was unable to finish an expedition on an artifact he’d spent years preparing to find. Having received the journals and maps from the retired associate was like being handed the answers to a test. It was all there, and all he had to do now was go out and find it. She had been helping him to figure out the little details, and now the discussion was if she would be joining him or not on this wild endeavor. He, of course, claimed it was too dangerous for a first timer to be brought along on such an elaborate journey.
“You should start with something more local, like I did,” he turned to her, trying to convey that he did not think her unable, but only inexperienced in the field thus far to take on something so big.
“It’s not like I’m going alone,” she replied with a small laugh. He made it sound like she would be single handedly making the trek to the treasure. It was a silly notion to think that he was so worried, when he himself was running point on the entire thing. “Not to overestimate you Professor Jones, but I believe you have the ability to defend me if the need should arise. Not that I think it will, I’ll only be assisting you when needed, hence the title of ‘Apprentice.’”
His chuckle was combated by the shake of his head. He knew that eventually he would be giving in to her, because she had this trait of arguing, and just plainly talking her way into something she hadn’t been a part of before. It was often infuriating, but he never walked away from a challenge, even one he knew there was no chance of winning.
“We’ll talk more after school,” he said, temporarily ending the conversation and walking ahead of her to his classroom. She stopped in her tracks, smiling like a ten year old school girl that was about to be on summer vacation.
He curved his steps, stepping into the doorway and out of her vision. She usually lingered in the hallway for a few moments, as to avoid the stares when she walked in precisely after he did. It sounded ridiculous that she would even make such efforts, but she made the decision consciously, and it often worked.
She kicked her heels over the ground and clutched her books tightly to her chest, wandering about for a few seconds more. She took steps towards the door, but collided with two young men, and had to back away quickly.
“I’m so sorry,” she looked to the floor, where one of the boy’s papers had been dropped. She knelt quickly and grabbed them before the breezy open hallway could send them fluttering about. She stood back up to face them with a smile, handing the shorter boy his papers back. “You’ll have to excuse me, I’m afraid I’m a bit clumsier than usual.”
They didn’t say anything, just stood there and stared at her. Strange boys, she thought. She attempted to simply nod and pass around them, but the taller one blocked her way, making himself like a brick wall between her and her favorite class.
“Pardon me,” she said sweetly, trying once more to walk around him but failing to do so when the other boy decided to also stand in her way. She was peeved, but wouldn't show it on her face. “Gentlemen, I am very sorry for bumping into you, but I really need to get to my class.”
“Hear that, Jim? She really needs to get to her class,” the taller boy said tauntingly. She furrowed her brow, misunderstanding why they could possibly have the need to bother her at this precise moment. She recognized them, they sat in front and across from her. Shouldn’t they also be running along to be seated in time?
“I think Professor Jones can do without his pet for a few minutes,” the other one spoke with a humorless chuckle. It was clear to her now that they had meant to hold her up, and probably to start a scuffle. These boys were obviously clued into the rumors and false gossip that spread through the halls, but actually having the balls to instigate a fight over it was a rarity.
“Please, if you could just let me pass,” she tried once more to barrel through the small gap between them, but they shoved her back, and she tumbled to the side a little from the force. She readjusted her grip on her books, trying to compose her posture once more. This all seemed so juvenile, like they would be the school bullies on an elementary school playground.
“No, I don’t think I will,” one laughed, taking a step closer to her with crossed arms, the other followed. It was beginning to make her feel uneasy, and her usually confident stature was caving in upon being forced into a corner.
As uneasy as the boys made her, she still tried her best to talk her way out. “Honestly, gentlemen. What are we, children? We all have a class to attend. I doubt you want to be late and risk missing important material.”
“I’ll take my chances,” the taller one said as he took a step closer.
-
Henry was nothing if not observant, and furthermore, he was intricately observant. When the pair of boys walked into his class three minutes late, along with the fact that his best student was still missing from the crowd, he was able to deduce that something happened in the short time he was separated from her, and it involved the two of them. He didn’t know how, but he was quite sure. It was also notable that the two young men were the ones that sat closest to her in the room. She didn’t have a deskmate, for obvious reasons, so the fact that they were in the near vicinity also made him think that they were involved somehow. She was never late, and she was never one to ditch a class of any kind, much less her favorite.
“Looking for someone?” one of the students asked, clearly referencing the teacher’s pet. It was funny, or at least the rest of the class thought so, breaking into small fits of quiet giggles that filled the classroom. Henry was far from amused, and did not even hesitate to ask about his prized student.
“Has anyone seen Miss Ledger?”
The question reverberated against the walls of the room, and made everyone quiet down. There was a hand that had been raised in the very back, it was the boy who had come in late, and sat directly across from Scarlett on most days. After being pointed at, the boy wore a proud look on his face, the expression was enough to send adrenaline coursing through Henry’s veins.
“I saw her in the hallway only a minute ago. She seemed to be going mad, something about needing to get home so she could find more trousers,” he said, his comedic tone indicating it may have been partially a joke. The classroom again erupted into muffled laughter, but the look on their professor’s face made them straighten up very quickly.
He wasn’t exactly worried over her, per se, but now very paranoid as to what really occurred in that hallway when he had left her there. She wouldn’t just miss a class for the reason of finding a new pair of trousers. She was his most dedicated student, and would walk through hell or high water to be in her seat by the time attendance was taken. It all just seemed too suspicious for his liking, and as annoyed as he was, he heaved a sigh, continuing his class.
“Everyone, pay attention,” he began, droning on all the notes he had prepared with Scarlet the evening before.
She did not leave his mind the entirety of his lesson, which made sense, given half the time he read from the papers, it was her perfect handwriting that was scrawled over the small lines. He was thankful for the release of the bell ringing through everyone’s ears when the hour was over. He only had two classes in the day, and once they were done, he was free to either sit in the Professor’s lounge, or go home. He’d much prefer to go home, considering the circumstances he’d been met with on this particular day. Avoiding the multitudes of female students as he left his office, he nearly ran to his car in the lot, trying his best not to seem like he was in a hurry. The rumors had been heard by his ears, too, and he didn’t want to give anyone fuel for the fire.
He got home fairly quickly, which was all well and good, but the thing was that he didn’t have the slightest clue of what to do with himself once he’d entered his front door. It seemed ridiculous for him to be acting this way, as he wasn’t even sure of what had happened, but he assumed it was nothing good. He tried to calm himself by sitting on the couch in his office, reading over some of the things they’d started marking out for the expedition. He had maybe distracted himself for an hour before his doorbell rang out.
He jumped from his seat, scattering the papers and taking large steps towards the door. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see when he opened the door, but the lovely image of Scarlet Ledger wearing a skirt was not on the list. She had made it more than clear in the time they spent together that she had a distaste for skirts because of some not very fond memories in her youth, and yet here she stood in a fitted tweed skirt that started high on her waist and fell just under her knees. Her sweater was the same cream one that she had been in earlier, but the skirt was not even close to her favorite chocolate brown trousers.
Pants are more comfortable, she always said, and they leave no room for impish schoolboys to mess around and flip them over your head when your back is turned.
His furrowed brows were uncontrollable, and it made her feel even worse about the situation than she already had. His eyes that scanned her up and down about three times more were not because of his dislike, but because of his shock. Truly, this was the last thing he ever thought he’d see her wear.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, a cheerful smile as if nothing had happened that day. “May I come in?”
He shook his head to get rid of the nasty feeling, giving her a tight lip smile that was unconvincing next to the one he always gave her when she first arrived.
“I already started marking out the route on the map,” he said while stepping aside to let her in. Feeling the hem of her skirt brushing against his leg felt so strange, and he wasn’t sure if she was ever going to fess up to the reason why she was wearing it in the first place, but he wouldn’t bother her about it, yet.
“You were supposed to wait for me,” she sighed out, slightly disappointed that he hadn’t paid attention to her words from last night. It had been one of the things she was most excited about. The location had been found, but it was the journey to said location that would hold all the fun that was finding such an artifact.
“I didn’t think you were coming.”
At this she stopped, turning around and nervously looking him over. It didn’t seem like he knew anything, but she had to be sure.
“I always come after school,” she murmured, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Well sure, but when you didn’t show up to class, I had my doubts that you’d show up here,” he was nonchalant, but something inside him was irritated. That way she was so perfectly calm, much less while wearing a skirt. She didn’t seem to have any problem in the facts of her absence, and acted as though it never happened at all. “Speaking of which, I’d like to know why you missed my class?”
She stood awkwardly with her hands folded behind her back. She seemed very stiff, and he figured it must be the effects of her wearing the skirt. She seemed far less confident, boreline uncomfortable, which never happened in his presence. He’d made it clear what he thinks of her, and she’d never felt the need to mask her personality, nor her spunky attitude.
“Oh? Yes, I’m sorry to have worried you,” she paused, straightening up slightly before looking him in the eye as she lied to his face. “I was lingering in the hallway, and felt a bit nauseous, so I decided to stand outside for a minute. Unfortunately, there was a bump in the doorstep that I hadn’t seen before… I fell down and scuffed up my trousers, so I went home to change before walking here.”
The look of utter ‘this is horseshit’ on his face when she finished speaking was so evident, she had to look away in order to prevent herself from faltering. Truth be told, the thing he found most amusing was just how rehearsed the story had sounded. It was so well gone over in her head, and he could hear it in the evened spaces of her words.
“Is that the story you’re sticking with?” he tilted his head with an unconvinced expression.
She stopped for a second to think about her response, because clearly he wasn’t buying into any of this. She knew he wouldn’t, but the truth was far more embarrassing and she’d rather not have to retell the events of which she fell into this afternoon.
“It’s the one I have decided on, yes," she turns back to walk towards his office, choosing not to elaborate further. She decided that her response was good enough, and continued as if she wasn’t being incredibly vague and unconvincing.
He would get to the bottom of it, but if she was this defensive over what had happened, he would need to let her become comfortable again. She looked so out of place in a home she had resided in more than her own.
As they got started, he neglected to mention anything about the incident. He joined in the act of pretending all was well, but it didn’t settle her like he thought it might. As the night went on, she perhaps got even more tense than she was when she had arrived.
He watched her as she sat, decidedly uncomfortable in her attire. Her posture was not nearly as good as it normally was. Even when she is half asleep, she sits straight as an arrow, as if a string had been pulled through the entirety of her spine and was holding her up. Her shoulders were always back. It was so natural for her, that normally he would have thought a slumped and curved position was not possible.
Looking at her now, the best way he could describe her stature would be curled. She was curled in on herself. As though she was hiding, or protecting herself from something. It almost appeared that she was trying to shrink in on her already small form.
“Are you ready to talk about it now, or should I wait a little longer and make you a cup of tea?” Professor Jones tries his best to make his voice light and teasing, but the smile he has that often makes her grin back doesn’t even cause a twitch of her lips. Strange. She barely even glanced at him.
“Talk about what?” She just opens the file in front of her and starts to flip through it. She was clearly going to try and sweep it under the rug. He decided to let it go for now, hoping the work will distract them both enough to get back to normal. That is, until she shifts slightly and her skirt rides up her leg. Even through her stockings, he can see the bruise blossoming. Her knee was also partially skinned, the dried red that would become slightly scared was evident.
“Alright, I’m sorry,” he closed his book and tossed it aside, uncaring where it landed for the moment. “I was going to let it go, but now I can’t. What actually happened? And don't give me the ‘I tripped’ story again. You don’t get bruises on your lower thigh from tripping on a doorstep.”
Her face froze, and she shifted her skirt down to cover her knees again. It was too late to make up another story on the spot, not one convincing enough anyway. The best one she had come up with was the one he’d seen through the entire time. She sighed out and dropped her eyes to her hands. Her pride kept her from admitting what happened, because in her mind, nothing was more embarrassing than being treated the way she was for such unjustifiable reasons. She trusted her Professor, and he made her feel safe, but this was different. It concerned him.
Neither one of them had spoken about the circulating rumors, just let them hang in the air and ignored the stares from people as they walked by. Confronting the gossip meant that things might change, and she didn’t want them to. She was perfectly fine with the after school arrangement, the late nights that were ever so productive.
“There were two boys in the hallway that blocked me from getting to class,” she began, still looking down, and missing as his fist clenched against his palm. He knew those boys were up to no good, he’d been able to tell just by the way they walked in. “They shoved me into a corner and tried to get me to admit to… something. I denied it and they got upset, so they grabbed me by my pockets and tossed me to the ground. My trousers had gotten completely torn, and my leg was scuffed up, too.”
She rushed out the last of the words, and had to slowly even her breath so she wouldn’t cry. She’d cried her entire walk home, and decided after she changed that she wouldn’t cry over it again. It wasn’t like her to be so offended, but the things they said hurt more than the bruises and scrapes. She’d try and avoid telling him if she could, but of course, his curiosities were ever present.
“What did they try to get you to admit? You haven’t killed anyone, have you?” He said, his humor entering the scene even in this moment which was serious. She huffed a small laugh, feeling a bit better as she prepared herself for this next step. She needed to choose her words carefully, because what she said now would determine how things would go for the next several months.
“Professor, I think you may have been hearing rumors at school lately, ones concerning you and I,” she said slowly, watching for his reaction and eventually receiving a nod from him. Of course he’d heard the rumors, everyone had. She was surprised that the entire University faculty and staff hadn’t heard by now. “My classmates are convinced that because of such things that I am receiving special treatment.”
“You are receiving special treatment,” he reasoned, but she shook her head, and he gestured for her to continue.
“Not for doing the things they think I am,” she let out, the first tear escaping her eye, marking out a path on her cheek and dropping down to bleed a small stain onto her shirt. After that, more started following, and she couldn’t hold the choked sounds out of her voice any longer, either. “I have been called a lot of things in my life, most I can take, but for boys who claim to be gentlemen to corner me in a hallway and accuse me of prostituting myself for grades before throwing me down and calling me a whore is probably one of the worst feelings I’ve ever felt in my life.”
She instinctively did what she’d always done as a child. She sought comfort from outer warmth, from being touched. She wrapped her arms around herself and brought her knees to her chest, laying her chin atop her arms and closing her eyes tightly. She hated that she was breaking down here, in one of the only places she could seek comfort in, but thinking back to her horrible experience, and thinking that there could be plenty more ahead waiting for her was suffocating. She couldn’t help how pathetic she looked or sounded, though she’d like to bet she’ll regret it later.
She heard shifting in the room, and felt a dip in the couch beside her. She looked up to meet his eyes, and he placed a hand on her shoulder, using the other to take his glasses off and set them on the table. She had seen him without them before, as he usually discarded them when he grew tired, but she’d never been so close up to really see what he looked like without them. He looked younger, boyishly handsome.
“I’m sorry,” he was so soft spoken, and his eyes held so much compassion. He was a man in this field. He’d never had to deal with anything of this sort in his life, so he could never understand how devastating it must be to commit yourself to your studies and be treated like there was some ulterior motive, simply because of gender. He would never know how it feels to be called such things or be bullied over stupid jealousies. “I’ll make sure they get what they’re owed, alright?”
Immediately she turned to him with wide teary eyes, shaking her head rapidly. “No, please. If you involve yourself, It will only look worse.”
“I can’t just let it go. This is far more serious than you seem to be grasping-"
"Professor, I understand perfectly fine!"
"No, Scarlet, you clearly don't. What they did was wrong, no matter what reason they had," he pushes past the fact that he just called her by her first name. In every closeness they had by now achieved, that had been a line which wasn’t crossed until this moment.
His assertive tone made her straighten up her spine, and she forced onto her face a look of indifference. She knew he was only trying to help, but she would not let this get out of hand. She already earned a bad reputation on account of nothing but good natured studying and commitment to her field, and she would at some point have to draw the line as to where she stood in all of this.
“Professor Jones, I must insist that you do not say anything to the young men in your class. As much as I appreciate your willingness to help my case, I think it would be a bad idea to let you defend me, now.”
He seemed peeved, but not completely annoyed. Curious as he was to her reasoning, he felt it ridiculous to neglect his attempts. Why would she push away someone who was trying to help her?
“And why is that?”
She had to take a deep inhale in order to look him in the eye when she spoke her next words.
“Because they expect you to,” she was trying to convey the unspoken words to him as appropriately as possible, but of course, Henry was never as lady-like.
“Because they think we’re sleeping together.”
Well, bingo. He’d hit it right on the nose, and she had to duck her head to hide her flushed cheeks from his stone gaze. “Yes, that would be why.”
He sat back in his seat, looking at other objects in the room, and hoping they would help him to think about a solution. He couldn’t help but feel like this was a rather out of his hands situation. The students of his class had made up their minds about her, but maybe he could change that. Perhaps, he could expose the boys for their actions without calling on them directly.
“But we aren’t sleeping together.”
“No. We are not.” She tries hard to keep her voice level, though he can hear the slight catch in it. She’s still trying to hold back tears.
Henry sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look,” he starts, “it’s one thing to be accused of something you aren’t doing when it’s only rumors. They crossed a line when they approached you physically, and there has to be a way to address it.”
Again, she looked scared, or at least rather uncomfortable with his suggestion. He hadn’t been finished though, and held up his hand to allow room to continue.
“I have a friend in the office who owes me a favor. He might be able to address them without anyone else knowing about it, or that you ever told me anything.”
This, she decided, was a solution worth trying for. Her subtle nod made him quirk a small smile from the corner of his mouth. He nodded once too, and squeezed her shoulder as he leaned further back into the couch. She had begun relaxing immediately after that, and he felt he’d done something right in all this.
She was only to be his student, but he could not deny he wanted to protect her from such things as these. He’s not always the kindest hearted person in the world, but he felt that perhaps he may have done the same for another girl in his class, as it was simply the right thing to do. He wasn’t so sure, though, that he would be so gentle and tender around her like he was now with Scarlett. He tread so delicately, because God help him, he cared so much about how she reacted to things. His attachment to what was only supposed to be his student had far surpassed what should be considered normal.
Never before had he ever had a ‘teacher’s pet’ or a ‘professor’s lackey’, but it was plain as day to anyone, now. Scarlett Ledger was his favorite student.
“Thank you,” she started smiling at him, now knowing that her reputation would not be further damaged, and her assaulters would receive punishment. There was also another reason. “For helping me.”
“It’s no problem. What they did is not acceptable from anyone in my class, their actions will have consequences.”
They settled it there, and continued on with the work being done. Papers littered the floor an hour later as they worked, and though the hour was late, there was still so much to be done before the expedition took place. The question of her going still hung in the balance, and she had hoped that with all the work and time she had devoted, and perhaps a bit of Henry’s guilt from this situation being caused, he would allow her to join him.
He had been sat on the floor by now, handing papers and notes he’d written down to her where she sat on the couch, but as he went over some journal entries of the dear friend of his that handed this adventure over to him, he neglected to realize that the soft shuffle of papers behind him, along with the quiet sound of a pencil moving had ceased. When he finished with the journal entry, he had marked the lines he had wanted her to see and was about to hand it over… but when he turned around, Scarlett had fallen into a restful sleep. Her head laid on the arm of the couch, and her arms wrapped around herself to keep warm without a blanket.
He knew that in the groove he fell into that he wouldn’t be able to sleep for several more hours, but he didn’t want to just leave her on the couch in his office as he ruffled about his work when there was a perfectly comfortable and warm bed in his spare room. Normally, he would wake her, have her walk to the room herself and ready for the night… but she had gone through a hard day, and this was the first time since this morning that he had truly seen her relaxed. It would be just cruel to make her leave her state of slumber when he was very capable of just transporting her himself.
He sighed and stood up, careful when he lifted her from the couch, and trying his best not to crash into anything or trip over the items on the floor when he moved between rooms. Thankfully, he made it safely into the spare room with little to no obstacles, and set her on the bed as gently as he could. He rid her of the shoes she wore before tucking her in beneath the sheets and duvet that used to remain untouched until her nighttime stays. She turned her head on the pillow, her brow furrowing a small bit when she faced him. He hoped she hadn’t woken up, otherwise he just spent meticulous time in carrying her all for nothing. She took in a deep breath before releasing it, and her face returned to normal. Her expression was bliss, and he found himself staring for longer than he would care to admit.
Standing here, a thought entered and left his mind in a fleeting manner. It simply came, and went… but caused him to think more. The thought in question? She’s so beautiful. It would bury him, that thought. He begged his mind to never think it again, but on that tangent, a whole new slew of thoughts along those lines began to pile in his head like dug up dirt.
He needed to leave the room, that would help.
“You’re gonna get me in some real trouble, kid.”
He walked out and back to his office, continuing to study his work, but finding that he retained no information on the account of his racing thoughts yet again. He sat back and raked a hand through his hair and down over his face before leaning forward to try and perhaps balance out all these intrusive thoughts with things he found annoying. He started with just a few things he often found to be peeving or invasive: She nags at him about the temperature he keeps his home, finding it too difficult to focus if she’s cold. She is constantly telling him how bad his handwriting is, hoping he will make an effort to write more legibly for her own sake. She reorganizes his work often, and it bothers him that he can’t find anything afterwards without her help. She raided his kitchen the first day she arrived, and mocked his eating habits while doing so… but in all fairness, she did make dinner and stop the work to allow time to eat. She had also been the one to help him arrange lessons when he was falling behind from other work. She was there to talk with him when he’d been stressed about the day from the events that occured. She was-
It was right then that he realized how truly and downright domestic their relationship had become. It washed over him in the most uncomfortable way, and clung to him like wet clothes on your back. He tossed the paper in his other hand to the floor and tried his best to make sense of any of it… but whenever he thought he was getting close to an answer it returned to bite him in the ass through a new slew of questions.
This type of thinking was dangerous. They had crossed so many lines that should never have been crossed without even realizing. He hadn’t wanted to believe there would ever be any weight to the rumors at the University, but sitting here alone in this room, having just tucked Scarlett into bed one room over, he suddenly felt completely and totally wrecked.
-
Tags:
@justanothersadperson93 @sparklytoaster @silverose365
#indiana jones x oc#indiana jones x reader#indiana jones#henry jones#harrison ford#the dial of destiny#disneyland#temple of the forbidden eye#Indiana jones adventure
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maybe this is too cliche but for the zombie au, what if reader is running low on meds and steve goes out to find her some, because he’s dumb and reckless and doesn’t want her to panic?
baby I love cliche! thanks so much for your request, this is a great idea. i decided to make it so that the meds r needs are not critical but make a big difference to well-being, hope that's OK! ♡ zombie!au | fem!reader
Steve knows he's making a mistake. He's just too bone-headed to turn around and go home. Home as a funny word, home as nowhere permanent, home as wherever you are. He should turn around and march straight back to your side where you're sleeping in a derelict but otherwise secure condo just outside of the Michigan border. He should not be out alone.
He and you have been walking for weeks. It's miserable and exhausting and Steve knows you're not telling him how tired you are. Of course you're tired, as he is, as he imagines every survivor out there is tired of this life.
He scoffs and steps over another smashed bottle. He's not sure you can call this existence a life, anymore. The irony isn't lost on him.
He trudges through the wreckage of a pharmacy about thirty minutes from the condo. Remarkably close. Steve had searched every rest stop along the road you'd followed to get here for usable maps, half too old and simplistic to make proper sense of, the others destroyed by mould or wet or blood. When he'd finally found one yesterday morning — inside the miracle condo, his first stroke of luck in months — he'd immediately searched for a pharmacy. Upon locating it, his plan was born.
Wait for you to fall asleep. Secure the condo. Find your medication.
To leave you asleep and vulnerable isn't the sort of thing he ever wants to do, but he'd weighed his options heavily. Bring you with him, tired and sick and especially open to attack, or leave you behind.
He can't decide if it was the right thing to do even now. He thinks of a geek scratching you in your sleep and has to take pause.
"Fuck," he mutters, wiping his eyes. They start to sting, sweat and dirt rubbed into his bottom lashes.
There's no time to waste. The quicker he can find your meds the quicker he can get back to you.
The pharmacy is pretty badly ruined. He doesn't know where to start or where to look. There's obvious signs of multiple struggles, most anything worth having has been looted.
Steve picks his way towards the appropriate section. He makes no sound that he can't help, practiced now in silent footfall, in holding his arms at a certain height to stop the chafing of his jacket. He tries very hard to remember the exact name that he'd seen on the bottle in your bag, the brand, the specification.
He's stricken when he can't immediately find it. He's put you both in danger for nothing.
A sound echoes from the front of the room.
Steve is immediately on pins, sliding the baseball bat where it hangs from the strap of his rucksack into his hand. Its weight is both familiar and disconcerting.
He holds his breath. The barest hints of daylight stream into the room, the water of a river broken by a thousand rocks. Steve looks between each ray of light and finds only dust, dust, and more dust, motes like pinprick stars drifting between them.
The zombie appears as a dark silhouette.
Steve takes an impulsive, unfortunate step backwards and his bag scrapes the shelving unit. Pill bottles rattle, a minute sound that may as well scream his location in the quiet.
Fuck, he thinks.
There's no telling what kind of zombie you'll be met with. Some are faster, some are smarter, some can smell you from very far away. Like the people they once were, each geek possesses their own strengths and weaknesses.
In life, this one seems to have been an imbecile. Its gory mess of a face looks toward him, looks straight at Steve and his hammering heart, and then looks the other way. He drifts from the room like a grey, disgusting apparition, and Steve's left alone in the room
Somebody grabs him from behind.
Steve shrieks and forces the entirety of his weight down to the floor. It's the first trick you'd taught him, that to be grabbed by the hair is hardly easily escapable, and that your best chance of surviving is to let yourself fall swiftly and fiercely into the force of it. It goes against everything the body desires to do, to move toward the thing grabbing you rather than away, but it always works.
His scalp tingles with shattering pain. His spine aches from the sudden collapse. Above him, a geek turns his dripping maw down to look at him, bloody saliva pooling at the chin. Freshly dead.
Steve scrambles away gracelessly, a half turn, on hands and then up, he stands and brings the baseball bat to his chest. He should run. If he fights this thing the sound might be enough to draw the second, and a second would probably kill him.
But Steve's just spotted your medication.
"Fucker," he says, and snaps the full force of his strength across the zombie's face. Metal bruises its way through flesh like a baton into pear flesh. A depression gets left behind. Steve from before the apocalypse would've gagged.
Steve now takes a second swing.
-
You're crying with both hands pressed to your face when the door downstairs opens. You immediately choke on your tears, half terror and half hope.
It could be Steve, you think. It could be him. Maybe he didn't leave after all, maybe he just went for a walk, maybe he just-
Of course he left. He was always going to leave. You can't hold him to his promises, because why would he stay? To always look after you? And you've been so tired, so unwell, you've caught him looking at you with this awful unhappy look like he can tell how much of a burden you're going to become.
If it isn't Steve, it's someone else. If it's someone else, you're in danger.
You press your hand over your mouth and try not to breathe. All your things are in the bedroom. If they come in here they'll see what's left. They'll know someone was here, but maybe you'll get lucky. They'll take your stuff and never think to look under the bed. You'll survive.
And then you'll die of starvation.
But if you can drag your things under the bed with you they won't know you're here at all.
You crawl across the floor and breathe hard through your nose, a sluggish tear falling over the slope of your cheek as you go. It falls into the rug, lost forever, and you climb over it. You loop your hand around the strap of your backpack and tug it backward with you, suppressing a sob as footsteps sound up the stairs.
Hidden again, you wait. You hold your breath until your throat burns.
The door creaks open.
"Y/N?" Steve asks. He talks as he always does, quiet and steady. "Are you in here?"
You loose the breath you'd held like a barb. The sound is pathetic, like a crying little kid.
"Y/N?"
You push your bag away from you and crawl out from under the bed, wiping desperately at your tearstained cheeks.
"I thought you were somebody else," you explain quickly, standing on wobbly legs.
You check him over and then avert your gaze, not wanting to look him in the eye, only he's covered in blood. You do a double take.
"What happened?" you both demand, staring at one another in shock.
You press your lips together and wait for Steve to explain first.
He drops the backpack off of his shoulder and unzips it. "I went to the pharmacy. Had to fight a geek for it, but I have something for you."
"What..."
Steve holds out a bottle of your medication.
His hands are white with cold and ice to the touch as you take it. Your ear is ringing.
"Why would you go by yourself?" you ask, numb.
"I don't know if you've noticed, babe, but you're not really up for expedition right now."
You laugh wetly and fight against another oncoming wave with your dirtied shit sleeves. "I'm not that bad."
"No, you are. And that's fine. But hopefully these'll help."
You stare at him, his dirty hair and unshaven face, the blood dried over his jacket and the similar splatters under his jaw. It looks as though he'd tried to wipe away whatever was on his face, iron streaks dissapearing into the shorter hairs of his sideburns.
You're not sure if you're too emotional to see the truth or if you're delusional with sickness or both, but you're almost a hundred percent sure that Steve initiates the hug, and not you.
His arms go over your shoulders. It's a slow, sweet thing, hesitant in his hand placement and the pressing of his cheek to the top of his head. You're not nearly so tentative, desperate for reassurance as you wrap your own arms around his back. The cold clings to him. You rub your open hand uselessly against it, trying to pour every bit of warmth you have into the gesture. Your other hand clutches the pill bottle so hard your knuckles ache.
"Sorry for scaring you," he says, "I would've used the signal, but I thought you'd still be asleep."
You're embarrassed. You want him to forget all about it as fast as possible.
Regrettably, with you and Steve, it seems as though every interaction is its own chapter of an increasingly long book. There's nothing else out there. The desolation and loneliness of your lives has made it so that each interaction is felt in excruciating detail.
Though sometimes that's nice.
His hug seems to go on forever. His arm tightens around your shoulder and his hand encircles your upper arm while the other bunches up the fabric of your hoodie.
"Are you okay?" you ask.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"You're like a Jackson Pollock of gore, Steve."
"What's a Jackson Pollock?"
You rest your cheek against his shoulder and stare at his neck, all his little hairs and pores and skin. "He was a painter. He did, um... splatters. He was quite famous."
To your surprise, Steve still doesn't let you go. He hugs you and hugs you and it's not like he's never hugged you before, he has, usually in similar times of high emotions. But still. He's not exactly tactile. Not with you.
"You shouldn't have- You shouldn't have risked-" You clear your throat. It's a struggle to say it aloud without insinuating a second meaning. "Thank you," you say instead. "I don't know how I'lll..." make it up to you. Make it out of this without you.
"Would you look at the back of my head?" he asks abruptly.
"What?"
"I fell. Think I might've cut myself. Or gave myself a killer concussion, at least."
"Oh no," you murmur, genuinely sympathetic.
Steve and you set down on the bed. He lets you card through his hair, careful, delicate, and search for his injury, a patch of irritated skin and a small lump. You fawn over him and rub a little antiseptic into the wound. Only afterwards when you're laying down to sleep beside him with the door barricaded do you realise what he's done — Steve doesn't care about small bumps or scrapes, he'd let you look after him because he'd known it would make you feel better.
When you're sure he's sleeping, you bracelet his wrist with your fingers. His pulse capers under your touch.
-
more steve zombie au
#steve zombie!au#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#stranger things#steve harrington x reader#steve stranger things#steve harrington#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fanfic#zombie!au
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bringing the Marauders to their first muggle party HCs
733 words
Sirius
He's used to parties but not muggle parties.
he was never exposed to any muggle activities due to his parents
the only related muggle thing he was able to sneak by was music and he nearly got away with it
most wizarding world parties are laid back and the most insane it will get is jumping around to muggle music and drinking fire whiskey.
the whole reason you brought him was that one night he and the rest of the marauders planned this little party and you were all like "this is a cute little get together" and he was like no this is a super awesome rad insane party wym?? and after you tell him about muggle parties he basically BEGS you to bring him to one
when he walks in and sees muggles taking all sorts of drugs and doing stupid shit he just stands there like :0
DO NOT leave him unattended because he WILL try any drugs he sees people doing and WILL green out.
he is in his moment fr he sees a Keg stand and he just HAS to try it
by the end of the night he's on another planet all over you but in an existential crisis sort of way
"what if when we're old and married and you die first? I would never be able to go on but when you think about it we are just tiny little specks in the galaxy almost too small to see....." he's going around bragging about going to a muggle party to everyone the next day.
James
he like Sirius isn't used to muggle customs since he grew up in a pure-blooded family
you show him your muggle camera and all the videos on it and the two of you find one with you and your friends at a muggle rave
he's all like WHOAHHH :0 he's never seen anything so colorful and aggressive at the same time
you bring him to one in the summer and someone offers him acid
he 100% takes it being the naive baby he is
you lost him so you were freaking out looking for him only to find him with a group of ppl doing the dumbest shit ever and hes like "whoah can I try?? :0" and they're like shooting fireworks at people
he CAN NOT be trusted alone
when you leave he's carrying 80 glow-sticks that he didn't bring and wearing a neon fedora
he tells Sirius and now he's begging you to take him to one
the next day he's telling everyone he knows
he never thought muggles could be so fun
Remus
you invited him to your friend's party during the summer and he thought it would be like the ones in his common room and boy was he wrong...
you get him to try weed and he's never been so relaxed in his life
you make a note to bring some for full moons
he tries muggle alcohol and he looks like a baby trying a lemon for the first time
you quite literally have to beat off both women and men of him with a stick
he somehow finds a group of nerds to talk to about muggle books but its 10x more entertaining because their all high out of their minds
you trust him enough to leave him for 60 seconds to go to the bathroom and you find him sitting on the kitchen floor eating a cold once was warm baked potato?? also his socks are missing but he still has his shoes on?
this just reminds you he's just as irresponsible as the rest of the boys hes just slightly smarter about his stupid actions
high Remus is INSANE
he's hanging from a chandelier one moment and skinny-dipping into a pool the next
you HAVE to bring a camera so you can show him all the crazy out-of-character shit he did
he has the worst headache ever in the morning but he had the best sleep ever
you ended up going up to your friend's room and crashing there but he wakes up naked in the backyard covered in peanut butter for some reason
he's so embarrassed
even more so when you show the videos/photos from the party the next day to James and Sirius
they start calling peanut butter sandwiches peanut-butter-Mooneys or peanut-butter-lupin sandwiches
he is not amused at all
#Marauders#marauders era#the maraunders map#marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin fluff#sirius black x reader#james potter x reader#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter headcanon#marauders headcanon#remus lupin headcanon#sirius black headcanon#james potter headcanon#random headcanon#silly headcanons
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now that i think about it, though, actress!reader and rockstar!joel having their own stars on the walk of fame would be iconic! the stans would be freaking out and ofc their families would be supportive
Hello I spent way too long writing these speeches??
You would both agree that because it’s such a big deal and you’ll probably already be crying all day to not speak at each other’s ceremony. It’s enough that the other and all the people you love and care for are there to support. Joel’s ceremony is a week before yours because you’re in different industries and he’s been in the public eye for longer than you. Which is fine because you’re weirdly nervous for your own ceremony. You’d much rather watch him get his first so you know what to expect.
The day of, you wear a simple, pretty black dress and gather your entire family into the car to get to Hollywood. The kids, all being 12 and above, don’t require as much supervision as they have in the past and are free to greet aunts and uncles they haven’t seen in a while. They quickly disperse in a chorus of, “Uncle Dave!” “Uncle Harry!” “Aunt Patti!” and more. You stay close to Joel before the ceremony actually starts and you’re relegated to the front row and he smiles sweetly as he kisses your cheek.
“Thanks for bein’ here.” He says and you smile and squeeze his bicep.
“Thanks for inviting me.” You say. You mingle through the crowd together, his hand always on your waist, in yours, or ruffling the hair of a passing child or grandchild that looks weirdly like him. When the ceremony begins, you sit in the front and he shoots you a wink from the podium before he starts giving his speech. Of course, he thanks his producers, band mates, managers, and everyone else as he spins the yarn of the young single-dad who showed up in LA with a dream and practically nothing else. Every once in a while, he looks up from his paper to meet your eyes and you nod to encourage him. Sometimes mouthing, “you got it.” He nods back and goes back to his words.
“I wouldn’t be near where I am today if it weren’t for my family. My brother, Tommy, and his wife, Maria, and their daughter, Lucy, never let me forget my roots and keep me grounded as the Texas boy I am. The little girl I showed up with is now a psychologist who’s way smarter than I’ll ever be, and a wonderful wife and mother to two little ones— Isaac and Eleanor. The daughter that isn’t of my blood but is of my soul is now a tattoo-covered drummer with an attitude that impresses even her Aunt Patti, an activist fighting for LGBTQ+ rights all across the world, and an amazing mother to a not-so-little JJ. My first son who’s given us a run for our money from the second he was born spends more time playin’ baseball than the guitar and we love him for it. My twin girls, our final Millers, never miss a beat and not only keep me on my toes but keep me updated on the latest TikTok trend so their old dad doesn’t go out of style just yet,” he says. Sophia and Violet giggle down the line of your family as you sit there and watch him. His eyes meet yours and you catch them misting over and you’re a goner.
“And my incredible wife who’s been patient, understanding, and gentle beyond belief for eighteen years. You are forever and always my inspiration, my rock, my best friend, and my confidant. The only reason I was able to make Grammy-winning albums and go on tour is because you stayed home with our kids for the first two years of their life. I know it wasn’t easy and there were days when we both wondered if we made the right decision. I hope you feel like we did. The sacrifices I’ve made are nothing compared to yours and I will do everything I can to repay you for that. This star— this accomplishment— is as much yours as it is mine. I love you with everything I am and everything I could ever be. Thank you.” His words hit your heart and all at once, all five of your kids are reaching across each other to grab your hand, touch your wrist, your knee, any part of you they can reach. You laugh and kiss each of their hands as you wipe your eyes. He looks at you with raised eyebrows, looking for approval, and you nod.
“I love you,” you mouth.
“I love you, too,” he mouths back.
At your ceremony, a week later, you stand on the same stage he did and look down at your family. The day’s emotions have made you especially teary and seeing all their sweet faces doesn’t do you any favors. “Alright, I’m gonna try to do this without crying,” you say, making everyone laugh. You thank your team and all the people you absolutely need to thank before turning to where you know Carolina, Ryan, Elizabeth, Victoria, and Penny are sitting.
“I met Carolina Garcia and Ryan Long while looking for a roommate for my 1,200 square foot apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. I was twenty and in the middle of my studies at NYU when Carolina responded to my Craig’s List ad. She said she didn’t have any pets, allergies, or baggage with her except for her boyfriend, Ryan. I was skeptical but agreed to meet him and thus began our decades-long friendship. When Carolina booked her first big TV gig, she threw my name in the hat and helped launch my career. Over the years, Carolina, Ryan, and their daughters have become cornerstones in my life. They made me a godmother and costar when they didn’t have to. They’re kind, selfless people and I owe who I am to them,” you say.
“Carolina and Ryan were also present when I met my husband, Joel Miller, and watched me fall in love with him. Carolina drunkenly told me during our wedding reception that she knew Joel was the one when I told her I could not only tolerate, but sleep through, his snoring,” Joel laughs a little too hard at the anecdote from his spot in the front when all five of the Miller children nod in agreement.
“Over our twenty-year relationship and eighteen-year marriage, Joel has given me support, love, and a family. I met his daughters, Sarah and Ellie, when they were 18 and 14, and although I didn’t bring them into this world, they gladly welcomed me into theirs. They were exceptionally patient and sweet as I adjusted to life with them and their father and let me love them as if they were my own. I never thought I could be a mother, but they helped prove me wrong. Quickly, we went from a family of four to a family of seven with the addition of Sam and our twins, Sophia and Violet, but through it all, the three of you made it easy to be a mom. Even then, all of you made me want to be a better mom, a better wife, a better actress, a better person. With the five of you, I felt unstoppable. I share this achievement with all of you as I do my love. Being your wife, mother, friend, godmother, and Nanny has been the greatest ride of my life. I love you. Thank you.”
Your family embraces you the second you’re off the stage and soon social media floods with pictures of Joel lifting you off the ground and spinning you around, kissing you, and holding your hand or waist for the rest of the day. You get sweet comments and congratulations from fans and other people in the industry. People Magazine celebrates the two of you as “The Most Successful Couple in Hollywood” and praises you for your speeches. You could give a thousand speeches and none of them could ever come close to describing what it feels like to watch Joel play with the kids and grandkids and nieces and nephews.
None of them could ever come close to encapsulating how much love you have for him and the life you get to lead together.
#one for the money two for the show#oftm family#oftm#rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader#rockstar!joel miller#the last of us au#tlou au#joel miller au#joel miller fluff
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The Only One || JJK || Ch. 39
Pairings: mafia!jk x fem!reader
Genre: smut, angst, mafia, contract relationship
Warnings: Prostitution, torture, blood, use of drugs and weapons
Summary: You've always wished for a better life. Every single day at work, you were hoping something would change. Although you didn't think that change would come in the form of one mysterious man and a contract.
His controlling and selfish behaviour only wanted to keep you away from any other man that wasn't him, and you only had to wait for him.
Too bad you really thought you'd be smarter than Jeon Jungkook.
Previous || Next
MASTERLIST
Aprox. time of reading: 13 minutes
Chapter warnings: smut, female masturbation, unprotected sex, dirty talk, sex in public
Jungkook admired her reflection on the mirror from the back, playing with his lip ring while Y/n kept moving the skirt of the purple dress to change the length. Although the music of the shop was a bit too loud for his liking, he could still hear her groans and huffs before she threw the dress along with the other two she had tried on.
—What's wrong with that one? —he frowned— I really liked it.
Maybe his huge need to leave the shop had a lot of influence on his opinion, but it still was the best dress he had seen on her that morning. , and it was the dress she was the happiest to try on when she first wore it. The fabric molded to her curves, reaching her knees. It was sexy enough for him to show her off proudly, but also hid all the parts of her body he wanted to keep to himself.
—It makes my legs look chubby —she whined—. I'll look ridiculous with that dress at such an important party.
—How can a dress make your legs look in a way they don't? —he got up from the couch, slowly walking to her— It's all in your head.
—Of course you wouldn't understand it —she rolled her eyes, turning so her back would be facing him again.
—What's there to understand?
Her body instantly reacted when the reverse of his finger caressed her skin, moving over her lower back and ghosting her skin so her hairs would raise, asking for more without needing to say a single word.
—You look gorgeous with whatever you wear —he assured her, kissing her neck softly—. You always drive me insane.
His hands kept moving over her body, tracing her curves delicately while he pushed his body to hers, redirecting her to the wide mirror in front of them. She instantly felt heated when she was aware of the way his eyes looked at her over her shoulder through the reflection. He worshiped her body, it was like a sacred place for him and that was why he tried to keep her from sharing it with anyone else since the beginning. He wouldn't allow anyone to ill talk about her, not even herself. At least not while he was there to talk back.
—If I knew no one else would cross a single bad thought through their heads, I'd even encourage you to walk around naked —he whispered, unclasping her bra—. Not a single person would be able to make me as hard as you do with some old bra and panties that don't even match.
—Okay, but...
—I'm speaking now —he cut her off—. You're mine. If you are, that's because all of you is worthy of my pride. All of you, doll.
His teeth closed on the sensitive skin behind her ear when his eyes fell over his mark, which only corroborated his words. His body reacted to the sight, starting to feel the pressure against his dark jeans and letting her know the way he felt just by looking at her. A heavy breath escaped from her lips when she felt the growing bulge against her ass, feeling hot just by imagining the filthy thoughts that were going through his head in that moment, and that hinted her with what could be going down in a matter of seconds.
—Are you trying to imply I should be embarrassed of you? —he caressed her nape with his left hand, while the other one kept moving down her body.
Although she was waiting for it, Y/n still was surprised when his fingers tangled on the elastic of her panties and moved them down, seeing the fabric sliding down her legs by itself, surrounding her ankles.
—Maybe it's my fault —he reflected out loud, squeezing her nape while his fingers moved up her inner thigh—. I was so lost in my business that I didn't pay attention to you, and caused you to have those dumb thoughts, huh?
She ate up her own gasp when his fingers found her core, spreading her wetness until his digits found her clit. Jungkook started moving two of his fingers in slow circles, getting drunk with her reaction alone. Her breath was heavy through her lips, trying to control her own reactions when his teeth trapped her earlobe while making sure they kept eye contact.
—Spread those beautiful legs a bit for me —he asked her.
Her legs moved instantly after his words drilled her ears, sliding her feet over the beige carpet just like Jungkook wanted her to. And her back arched as he slowly slid inside, feeling her walls taking him in like her body had been waiting for him.
It didn't matter where it happened, or when, it just felt like the first time. Eager and desperate to reach the deepest spot to feel completely linked to her. It didn't matter how many times they had sex, Y/n still felt as desired and wanted as the first night they spent together.
Jungkook groaned, changing the angle of his hips to rub himself against a spot that made her eyes roll to the back of her head, unable to keep looking at the reflection. His palm still covered her pussy, making her clit rub against his skin every time her body bounced forward with his thrusts. He was making her go insane, and he knew her so well that he knew how to make her go even crazier.
Her hands held onto his shoulder and his hair over her hair, digging her nails and fingertips on his clothes and locks, trying to make sure she wouldn't lose balance any moment. Covering her mouth with his free hand, Jungkook redirected her eyes to the reflection, forcing her to look at the reflection, burning in the image in her retina for the next time she felt insecure about her body.
—You're so beautiful, doll —he groaned in her ear—. So fucking gorgeous. But you'll look even more precious when they start shaking when you cum on my cock. You gonna do that for me, right?
Her head moved steadily, nodding to his words while her moans kept being shut by the left palm of his hand.
Without warning her first, he pulled out and made her turn to him, trapping her lips in a lewd kiss that almost made her tiptoes curl. Their tongues moved against each other, eating up their own gasps when he lifted her body in the air, pushing her against the mirror and sinking deep in her again.
Her whines started off low and weak, but they kept earning a new pitch with every new thrust he gifted her. She wasn't able to control her feelings when it came to him.
—Please —she whispered, breaking the kiss.
Jungkook looked up to her through his eyelashes, proud of her fucked out and needy expression. Her eyelids were almost closing while she looked down at him, and her lips were slightly parted as she tried to gather as much oxygen as possible.
—Are you going to wear that dress? —he teased, tilting his head.
—Only if you fuck me later with it on —she teased back, smirking.
That was exactly the answer he wanted.
Holding her tight by her thighs, with his fingers denting on her flesh, he linked their lips together to keep her from moaning before he started rocking his hips against her core again. With every thrust, her body collided against the glass, making it bounce back to the white wall behind it.
They both knew the other was close by reading each other's bodies, they both gave it away easily. In a matter of a few seconds her walls tightened around him while his dick twitched in pleasure and spilled in her core.
—You're beautiful, babe —he whispered, kissing her shoulder—. And wear what you want. If someone dares to say something, I'll cut their tongues and tear out their eyes so they aren't able to say any bullshit about you.
Those words were worth it when he saw the way she smiled to them, looking away while trying to calm herself down.
He helped her put her underwear on after he left her back on the ground, and handed her the clothes she had left folded over the backrest of the armchair he was sitting at. While he left her to get dressed calmly, Jungkook took the amount of dresses she had rejected in one hand, while he took the purple dress on the other to pay for it.
✸ ✸ ✸
He could tell she was nervous when the car stopped in front of the big club, strategically placed in the middle of the two roads. Her fingers moved over his reverse constantly, feeling uneasy at the thought of how risky it all was. They were still on time to leave and forget about everything, just focus on their own life and the future they could be able to build together, even if they were just hiding. Jungkook would never be able to live a calm life even if they did that. And she was aware. The man next to her would be paranoid, and think the minimum thing was a sign of danger for them unless they finished it all for good.
Y/n looked up to him when she was aware of his eyes on her, concerned for the uneasy thoughts that were possibly going through her head as she stared at the wide terrace of the establishment.
There she was again, forgetting her own worries to turn into a pile of strength for him.
—Whatever happens there, I'm with you —he assured her.
Her hand raised to his cheek, caressing his skin with her thumb before he moved his head to kiss her palm.
—Let's ruin a party—she giggled.
Jungkook held her hand tight ever since they left the car and walked up the stairs to the first entrance to the terrace, just to be redirected to the second entrance that led to some stairs down inside the club where loud music was heard through the walls.
Of course his father rented the whole place for his own ego.
He wasn't able to recognize some of the faces he saw, neither of his men were there -since they were asked to wait outside so his father wouldn't take their attendance as some type of threat. And he was sure more of those people that were invited had more to do with Pedro anyway.
Their walk was stopped when a bulked up man stopped in front of them, and told Jungkook to follow him.
—Remember what I told you? —he said loudly near her ear, so she'd be able to hear her voice through the music.
Of course she did. And clearly she wasn't going to go on with his plan, even if she promised him she would. Running away, and leaving him there by himself wasn't something she was going to do.
They moved through the crow, hands intertwined tightly so neither of them would be too separated. At some point, Jungkook moved her closer to her body, pulling her wrist to his belly so her chest would be against his back, and she'd be completely covered in case something happened.
Apart from the dance floor, behind a black door that connected with the counter of the bar, there was a quieter room with two black leather couches that formed a reversed "L" in the middle. In the middle of all the people that were celebrating, there he was: Jeon Jungho.
His father smirked when he saw his younger reflection in front of him, with the same frowned expression he was taught. Although his smile dropped when he saw that thin hand Jungkook was holding against him, before he spotted her eyes over the pad of his jacket.
—What is she doing here? —he pointed at her with his chin.
—Is that seriously the first thing you're going to say after seeing your son for the first time in years?
—Well, I already know what I need to know, there's no need to ask anything else —the old man shrugged—. But I'm going to ask: what are you doing here?
Jungkook looked around, eyes going from the man sitting the the furthest corner of the couch, to the one that was nearest to where he was standing, before he let go of Y/n's hand softly, caressing her fingers with delicacy. He stepped forward, in the middle of those couches, right in front of his father, sinking to his knees with his head up high, gaze always connecting with Jungho's one.
—I'm offering the chance to retire on time —Jungkook whispered—. Leave me and Y/n alone, step away from the family that doesn't belong to you anymore and let's live a peaceful life. I'm offering you the chance to live.
The old man chuckled at his son's comment, leaving everyone in the room confused before they all followed and laughed along. Meanwhile, Y/n wasn't able to understand a single word they were speaking, but it was enough for her to read through the expressions of Jungkook's father. The disdain in his eyes, like he was looking at a dog and not a person was taking the worst out of her, yet she held back.
—I raised you well, didn't I? —his right gray eyebrow curved— You're the one kneeling, the one that has more to lose, and the one who needs something from me, yet here you are... demanding shit and even threatening me when I could kill you right now with one gesture.
—I'm not threatening you. I'm aiming for peace —he quickly denied—. Bangtan could be harmed with our battle.
—Do you think I care about Bangtan after what you turned it into? —he bent over, getting closer to his son's face— You harmed it the second you fucked that whore and claimed her as part of the family. Don't blame me for the mistakes you made —he whispered, slowly, going word for word—. You're still on time to mend all you did wrong.
Lifting two of his fingers in the air, he motioned one of the men that were standing on each of the corners in the room to walk to him and hand him his gun.
—Get rid of what made me distrust you —he handed him the gun—, and I promise everything will go back to normal. You'll get back your safety —he smiled—, and your father.
Jungho's chest puffed with pride when Jungkook took the gun in his fingers, surrounding the handle with his fingers. There was his last test to show his devotion to the family, and to show off he was worthy of his position.
Y/n was confused, heart beating fast when she saw Jungkook holding the gun that his father handed him. At first she thought that, maybe, he was putting him on a test, the typical move in movies to show if he was brave enough to go on with his threats and do what he was saying when the villain gave him the resources to do it. But she was shocked when Jungkook stood up, and instead of pointing to her father, he started walking to her.
Playing with his lip ring while looking down at the gun, he sighed. There was something inexplicable in the way she felt when his hand raised to her head. It was frightening, horrendous to see the person she loved pointing a canyon of a charged gun at her. Yet she still trusted him, staying still on the spot while her eyes were still linked to his and she was still seeing the person she came with.
She had the chance to run, to assure herself she'd be safe, but she didn't move. Although she almost lost balance when her knees went weak from relief when Jungkook moved his arm fast, changing the target to his father's head.
Seeing his choice, Jungho only scoffed, while the rest of the people in the room didn't move -except for the other three men that were waiting with their hands in the air, pointing their guns at him.
—Are you going to kill your father to protect a hoe?
—You've been dead for seven years anyway.
When he pulled the trigger and nothing came out of it but air, Jungkook tried again. But nothing came out of it. Jungho snatched the gun from his son's hands, dropping the empty charger in front of their eyes.
—Did you really think I would give you a charged gun? While you're thinking with your dick and not your head? —he mockingly laughed at him— You really don't know what you've just done —he took a step forward—. You've just sentenced you and your girlfriend to the worst of the deaths I can give you.
Jungkook saw no point in arguing anymore. He knew there was nothing left to be done there. And he was also sure his father wouldn't kill them right there, he was more the type to rejoice himself in knowing the people he was threatening were hysterical when their time would come.
He was just that twisted.
Jungkook held her hand, walking away from there with her -or more like dragging her outside to make sure nothing would happen to her that night. Although he stopped midway when he saw someone he recognized.
What was Yejun doing there?
Taglist: @kaiparkerwifes @sheylamc @amy2006jones @allamericanuniverse @00frenchfries00 @massivelyfullenthusiast
#fanfic#ff#jungkook#jeon jungkook#jungkookxreader#jk#bts#wattpad#kookie#smut#jungkook smut#mafia!au#The Only One#reader insert#armpirate
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Tim Drake & Jason Todd Angst Fic Recs
This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)
in the planter outside my front door by CosmoKid - Rated G
When Tim’s six years old, his third-grade class takes a field trip to the old firehouse in The Narrows.
By the age of seven years old, he’s learned that there’s a difference between pain and Pain, and that while adults are generally happy to deal with pain, they do not enjoy you talking about Pain.
These two things may be related.
This Dark Ceiling Without a Star by Miss_Lazy_Tuesday - Rated M
“For fuck’s sake, your chatter is going to drive me crazy faster than this stupid spell.”
“Then you talk!”
“There’s no point!” Jason snaps. “I can feel it, okay. It’s—there’s no emotion behind it, it’s not using my thoughts. It’s just a bunch of weird Greek echoing in my brain and a compulsion to act. And it’s getting stronger. Talking isn’t going to slow it down.”
“Then what will slow it down?”
After five long seconds of silence, Tim gives into the urge and viciously jabs his fist into Jason’s leg for the second time.
“Goddammit, why?” Jason snaps, green briefly sparking in his eyes before disappearing just as quickly.
“You are not seriously going to just sit there and wait to die.”
“The hell do you care anyway?”
“Because I don’t want you to die! Obviously!”
“You fucking should.”
unaware i'm tearing you asunder by hendecagrisms - Rated T
The pieces were starting to click into place, aligning to create a deeply disturbing picture.
“Are you seriously saying you’ll become a missing person and fake your death for this stupid homecoming plan?” Jason interrupted, his voice full of as much judgmental incredulity as possible.
The kid’s eyes skated back over to him, his face twitching into a brief frown. “What? No.” A pause. “I mean, we could do that instead, if you wanted. But to fool Batman I’d need facial reconstruction surgery and new papers and it would all have to be untraceable—,” he broke off with a scoff, shaking his head slightly.
“No, it’s just smarter and more cost-efficient to do it for real.”
-
Tim learns about Jason Todd's return, does some research on the Lazarus Pit, and realizes that there might be a way to solve multiple problems all at once: removing himself from the picture.
For some strange reason, the Red Hood doesn't seem keen on cooperating.
Grin and Bear It (I got blood on your carpet) by Alia_JuneBug - Not Rated
When Jack Drake’s business trip gets canceled, he is forced to stay at home while the legal kinks get worked out. He’s not used to having a teenager underfoot, so it’s only rational that he’s a little snappish around Tim. At least, that’s what Tim tells himself each time his dad’s idea of discipline gets harsher.
Bruce had told him to take a break from Robin in order to spend some time at home with his dad, and Tim can’t say no to that. He knows Bruce is probably glad to be rid of him for a short while.
And he can handle discipline. This is a Tim Drake problem, not a Robin problem anyway. There’s no need for Bruce to know anything.
Things get a little muddled when an injured Jason Todd crawls through his bedroom window.
Thrown into the Storm by ThePokeOne - Rated T
"It figured, Tim thought as he trekked through Gotham's streets in one of the worst storms he'd ever seen. He'd been careless. So stupidly careless."
Or:
Tim gets kicked out, and Jason has a change of plans.
am i the only one pretending (i did it to myself) by rutaceae - Rated T
Tim doesn’t expect his latest civilian kidnapping to be any different from the rest, but when he remembers things best left buried in the past, things take a turn for the worse.
Luckily, his family is here to help.
sallow skin (and they can’t look away) by Ghxst_Bird - Rated T
Bruce is off planet when Robin’s distress beacon is lit. He tries not to worry, but then Nightwing contacts him:
Robin’s tracker leads straight into Gotham Bay.
1-800-ROBIN by spqr - Rated T
“Gotham Youth Mental Health Hotline, this is Jason speaking. Can I ask who I’m talking to?”
There’s a long silence on the other end of the line, and then a small voice says, “I, um. Sorry, I don’t know why I called. This was a mistake. I’ll just hang up now.”
“Hey, wait.” Jason drops his feet to the floor, sitting forward in his shitty cubicle. Suddenly his heart is racing and he’s not sure why, but he can’t let this kid hang up. “You don’t have to tell me your name. That’s okay. Just – why don’t you tell me why you’re calling?”
buy the ticket, take the ride by Anonymous - Rated M
Tim had always figured that if he ever woke up in Vegas sans-memory, it would be when he was older than fourteen. But there were some things he couldn’t control, and apparently whatever had happened last night that he didn’t remember was one of them.
hungry for strays by Ghxst_Bird - Rated T
Tim knows something is wrong with Batman and Nightwing, and somehow it all has to do with the new crime lord on the rise in crime alley. So of course he’s not going to stay at the manor while they’re out risking their lives.
Tim leaves a note and sets out for intel on the Red Hood.
Aka.
Everyone is straight up not having a good time
Safe and Warm by sardonic_sprite - Rated G
Batman.
Batman lived right next door. Batman surely had a generator, or at least a fireplace and wood, or some way to get warm.
Batman took care of kids, and Mr. Wayne was really nice. He would at least let Tim warm himself back up. Maybe he could even stay just until the power came back on.
It was worth a shot.
Nervous Breakdown by AhsokaJackson - Rated T
Jay closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose to push back the encroaching headache. And possibly the admittedly ironic desire to strangle this kid for his lack of self-care instincts. "Tim. Timmy. Answer me this. Where exactly is the old man? Actually, better question: Why in the ever-living hell is the answer to that anything other than 'right here'?"
Tim gave a huff that sounded more tired than defiant. "Because, like I said, it's a mild case and I don't need to be under observation. I already told Bruce the same thing I told you: I'm fine."
"And he believed that."
Don't You Know? by sardonic_sprite - Rated T
“How the hell did you think taking everything the real Robin had was going to make him proud of you?” Jason snapped.
“I didn’t want to take anything,” Replacement cried. “I wanted to save it. It… Batman… they were… everything was just… It was awful, and, and Gotham needed… but Robin…”
The kid looked up at Jason, desperation in his eyes, like he was trying to find justification from his accuser.
“I-I know he wouldn’t have wanted Batman to die.”
Living Dead Boy by Terranpheum - Rated T
Tim was having a normal night photographing Batman and mourning the dead when Jason Todd suddenly breaks out of his own grave. He's unresponsive and catatonic, and Tim knows there's no way he can leave the boy on his own. So, he brings him back to Drake Manor to try and help him recover. It goes… well?
Instead of All the Colors That I Saw by SilverSkiesAtMidnight - Rated T
Dick comes around to stand fully in front of him, keeping a steadying hand on Tim’s arm. “Just because you know you’re safe intellectually doesn’t mean you always feel safe,” he says softly. “It’s okay if you don’t feel safe.”
“But it’s not okay!” Tim bursts out. “Because if I don’t feel safe, then how is Jason supposed to feel safe? He shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable just because my brain is screwed up!”
There’s a faint sound by the door, barely more than an intake of breath, and his eyes snap to the no-longer empty doorway.
The Worst Kind of Crush by TimDrakeIsMyPatronus - Rated T
Civilians came first.
It was one of the foundational truths of being a superhero. Their job was to save civilians regardless of the personal cost. Each of them knew and understood the risks associated with the cape when they put it on.
Still, rules got fuzzy when one woke up underneath a building.
Or the one where a building explodes and Tim is trapped under the rubble
Last Request by destiny919 - Rated T
"Any last words, Replacement?" Red Hood casually crouches down in front of him. "Or how about a last request? I'm feeling generous. I'll do you one last favor before I clip those little wings. Whatever you want. Sky's the limit."
There's only one thing he's ever really wanted from Jason Todd.
Echoes of You by SilverSkiesAtMidnight - Rated T
Graveyard mud, heavy and dark, clinging to a stained and torn suit. One shoe missing, a leg bent awkwardly and blood staining a bare foot.
Milk white skin beneath the mud, black hair hanging in muddy clumps around his ears. Blue eyes staring back at him, animal-bright and dilated in the brief moment before he flinches back from the light with a cry of pain that stabs through Jason to the soul.
His shaking hand closes around the flashlight before he can even think about it, cutting off the piercing beam and letting it spill out in shards between his fingers. For a petrifying moment as his eyes readjust, he’s sure that when he looks again, there will be nothing there.
“Tim?” he whispers.
The lean and ragged figure, tiny, god he’s so small, lowers his hands away from his face, away from his eyes wide and glittering almost silver in the moonlight.
Hands, mud-covered and torn. The red of his shredded fingernails is sickeningly dark in the broken light.
He’s vomiting before he even feels the bile making its way up his throat.
Petals for Armor by SilverSkiesAtMidnight - Rated T
There’s a small half-moon of blood under the white of Tim’s nail where he bent it. He studies the red of it, feeling foggy and dreamlike. “Can I ask you a question?”
His brother’s eyes flick to him and away again, surprised and wary. “What?”
His nail doesn’t hurt much, just the dullest of aches when he presses down against it. “When you were homeless, you slept with people for money, didn’t you?”
Jason jerks like he’s been slapped. His knuckles are so pale where they grip the steering wheel they suddenly look more bone than flesh. “Did I -”
“Was it worth it?” Tim asks, drifting like a cloud over whatever furious reaction Jason was about to give him. “The money, I mean.”
His sternum slams into the seatbelt with bruising force. Unbraced for it, his head whips forward and back against his seat as they swerve off the road again and skid to a halt with a screech of rubber.
farthest you’ve ever flown by rutaceae - Rated T
When Jack Drake kicks Tim out in a rage, Tim, not wanting to be a bother, tries to make it work without getting the Bats involved. But he can only go so long without being found out, and it’s not Batman that ends up discovering his secret; it’s the Red Hood.
Familial Ties by AnonymousWhump - Rated T
What he wasn't expecting was to walk into the kitchen to find Tim, yes Tim because he wasn't in the Robin outfit he was dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, was that blood on his feet? Staring at him in shock, eyes flicking from him to the phone in his hand, before mumbling a quiet,
“Jason?”
Or, Jason breaks into the Titan's Tower to hurt Robin but his plan is quickly derailed when he sees signs of abuse.
Drop In by iselsis - Rated T
Tim's injured, alone in Crime Alley, and the worst possible person finds him.
And yet it doesn't turn out as badly as Tim expected.
Watch Your Step Dear by Redaliveviolation - Rated T
Tim was having a great time watching the Dynamic Duo race across Gotham. He was getting so many good photos and he never wanted these nights to end. Too bad the heroes aren’t around when he takes a trip off of the side of a building.
#veryace recs#batman fic recs#batman#batfam#jason todd#tim drake#angst#whump#ao3 fic recs#fanfic recs#ao3
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Dawn of the Dead… in 3D!
This has been one of my favourite movies since I was sixteen years old, and formative in my love of the horror genre, so it was very nice to be able to see it with @thedrillerkiller on the big screen, and in 3D. That’s 1.5 times as much movie, if you do the math. So obviously I had a good time. I won’t have any great new insights about a movie I’ve seen a billion times and that much smarter people than myself have discussed to death, so let me rattle off a few thoughts about the 3D conversion.
I used to be a purist for this stuff, but I think this is a really interesting choice for the format. A lot of the movie has characters looking down the barrels of their guns either towards or away from the camera, so this visual strategy lends itself pretty naturally to the depth offered by the format. Think of the part where H. Scott Reiniger kicks and shoots a zombie, or when Ken Foree looks through the scope of a rifle in the gun shop.
So as a result the gore pops as well, as Romero often frames it for obvious emphasis or will sometimes have viscera pop out at the camera. At least one headshot results in a zombie’s brains erupting towards the viewer. If someone near the front had tossed their ketchup-covered fries behind them, this could have been a 4D viewing, but luckily this was not the case.
But there are moments when the 3D accentuates other effects, varied in tone. There’s montage of the trophy heads in the gun shop or the different products on sale though out the mall, Romero’s satirical jabs getting just a little more punch from the extra dimension. Or, in contrast, the scene where Foree comforts a deteriorating Reiniger from the other room, the 3D almost adding a visual echo to the shot where Foree is framed through a doorway. It feels just a little more poignant.
And while one of the complaints about 3D conversions has been their dimness, I think the extra pop of the candy coloured blood against the extra brown, Carter-era sheen works really well. Has any movie used the period’s visual drabness to such deadening effect? This truly is a zombie epic for the Malaise era.
And speaking as someone who had a huge crush on Gaylen Ross when I first saw this as a teenager, I was not immune to the power of her performance on the big screen with the extra dimension.
And as for the movie, I think Ebert put it best:
“If you can see beyond the immediate impact of Romero's imagery, if you can experience the film as being more than just its violent extremes, a most unsettling thought may occur to you: The zombies in ‘Dawn of the Dead’ are not the ones who are depraved. They are only acting according to their natures, and, gore dripping from their jaws, are blameless.
“The depravity is in the healthy survivors, and the true immorality comes as two bands of human survivors fight each other for the shopping center: Now look who's fighting over the bones! But ‘Dawn’ is even more complicated than that, because the survivors have courage, too, and a certain nobility at times, and a sense of humor, and loneliness and dread, and are not altogether unlike ourselves. A-ha.”
Listen, you can whine about some of the times he’s been wrong or whatever, but when he’s right, he’s right.
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Succession Thoughts: Gerri x Roman.
1. Photographs.
The premiere of Season 4 gave us some great content, although none of it focused on Roman and Gerri’s faltering relationship (yet). Sadly, this leaves me with not much material to work with for my first Succession Thoughts post in over a year, but there are a few things we can touch on. Most pointedly, the remark Logan makes to Gerri about whether she’s received anything interesting lately. Clearly, Logan is riffing with her, making reference to last season when Roman sent her the infamous ‘dick pics’. Gerri replies with the above remark, and we get a sense from the brief glimpses of her here that something has shifted. There’s a sense of restlessness, of dissatisfaction. Once CEO and apple of Roman’s eye, now Gerri sits alone in the corner, her relationships with her cohorts--Karl and Frank--likely permanently changed after her stint as CEO. Her relationship with Roman no longer really exists after she assisted Logan in the betrayal of his children last season. Her oft-repeated remark to him--”How does it serve my interests?”--seems ironic now considering how things have shifted for her. One might begin to wonder whether it really served Gerri’s interests to do to him what she did. J. Smith-Cameron stated this in recent interview with Vogue: “[...] But I think she got genuinely attached to him and attached the idea of cultivating a business association with him. So I was sort of surprised, when the writing was a little cold-blooded. She was able to shut herself down more than I would be able to.” This hints at what is to come for them, and struck me as interesting, because, Gerri has really always been cold-blooded. I’ve touched on this point numerous times throughout my time writing these posts, and it’s strange to me that she would not see this quality in Gerri when it has existed all along. Gerri has consistently looked out for herself throughout the series, and likely for years beforehand as well. It’s a quality her husband--one of Logan’s closest associates--likely shared as well. What will be interesting for us as viewers is to see how things evolve over the course of the series between her and Roman. Will her essential nature ultimately be her own undoing?
2. Don’t Wanna Fuck Anyone.
One of the most exciting things this episode delivered was a glimpse at a much smarter, more mature Roman. Between the line above and his line about ‘half a bil’ later on in the show, we see Roman as we’ve not really seen him before. He’s sharp, clearly having paid attention not only to Gerri’s tutelage but also in management training. He’s more assertive than before, more firm in stating his opinion, and--of his siblings (not counting Connor)--uninterested in revenge. This sets him apart from almost everyone in his family. Roman sees a clear path forward, and has a desire to get there that doesn’t involve considering how to screw someone over in the process. He seems to have accepted his position with the a level of grace no one else is exhibiting. Even when the siblings win the bid for Pierce, and Kendall and Shiv rejoice over getting one over on their dad, Roman remains uncharacteristically quiet, both glad that their efforts have paid off, but conflicted over the victory over their father. When he tells his siblings that 500 million shouldn’t be spent without thought, he’s right. The money they have now will have to be invested wisely and spent purposefully so that they have a chance to actually build a future for themselves; gamble that away in repeated bids to screw over their father, and they’re already losing. Roman can see that; Shiv and Kendall cannot. As he is now, one begins to wonder what reaction Gerri will have when she sees him again for the first time. Will this version of Roman stick, or will he revert back to his old ways? Can he and his siblings really forge a future together, or are their diverging mindsets and interests likely to be their Achilles heel? We have no way of knowing now, but what I do know is that this Roman is really gratifying to see, because, it feels like this is the person he wanted to be all along.
AN: I wanted to post a quick note here to welcome back any loyal readers who return to my Succession Thoughts posts, and any newcomers who are now discovering them. As before, any thoughts/opinions are welcome, whether you agree or disagree with me. I value discussion and like hearing others’ input, and am excited for what will be my last series of posts as this show draws to a close. Also, excuse the poor quality screenshots but HBO is no longer allowing me to take them on my computer, and I don’t have the app on my phone. If it’s possible to take them on the app, let me know because, as it stands, I am taking pictures of the computer screen, lol.
#gerri/roman#gerri x roman#gerri kellman#roman roy#succession#succession hbo#hbo succession#succession thoughts
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Last thought of Izana Kurokawa
Writer warning: first published pls be nice🥺💀, English is not my first language pls leave my knowledge of english unspoken
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I remember from movies how people were used to see short clips from their lives,
I thought when people were dying they were dying and they didn’t have a time to think of anything otherwise then how to stay alive a bit longer, but usually they were thinking of their families or loved ones.
I think I get it now, lying on the ground I wasn’t thinking of my ,,mother,, or my family which I never met and I regret that I never actually meet them.
No. I was thinking of my friend, one and only friend, my real brother. How I miss days when I use to run to him to show some stupidest thing ever or how I get a good grade from school which doesn’t matter now or ever will, but in that time I was so proud of myself that I had to tell someone about it, because we were kids.
I remember how I was saying that I don’t care about school, that i’m gonna rule the biggest gang in whole Tokyo so school wasn’t very important to me, but some how I managed to get a good grade.
I don’t think that I regret anything in my life it was pretty short ,but maybe i should regret that I never actually thanked Kakucho for being there for me,be more grateful, when I found out that I didn’t really had a family. I constantly think that he was smarter than me.
He said that what made family is not a blood lines, and what made is love, respect and trust, in that time I remember that I didn’t wanted to listen. Deep down I knew that he is right. He repeated it that we are your family.
We? In that moment I was thinking as hard as never, who he means. Then I realized that he was talking about guys from Tenjiku. I couldn’t believe that he really was thinking that Haitanis with theirs stupid matching tattoos , weak Shion that wouldn’t win without brass knuckles , Mucho which betrayed toman and Mikey for our kingdom and Mochi that never says much, about himself just following the orders, were supposed to be my family.
That surprised me, I have never seen them as my family. More much as my soldiers, I don’t know, but king dose not care about his soldiers. He send them on war without less care. Maybe I never actually show them any care or affection, but I do care. Maybe it was the time I spend with them , in juvie and normally, it made me think that I actually have someone I can depend on, be sure of help.
I regret, I killed my sister, we weren’t related but she was my sister ,person I should protect not cause her death. I think I felt it when she died that I gone pay for this. And maybe i deserves this, but when I saw how the gun was aimed at Kaku, pulling him off the line from fire was like a reflex, i needed to do that ,even if it costed me my life.
Because if I wouldn’t it means that I totally failed as a brother. I am an arrogant person but as much as I do not want him to be dead , I want him to die with me. Dying is so lonely.
I think that if time could go back I would do a same thing
I felt like my mind is getting blurry,my eyes watering. I don’t want to die, I don’t want to leave him alone, who is going to protect him.
But I know that I will never see him again, because his hand is warm and mine is not. And I knew that his not going with me.
~Are you swear to me your loyalty and follow my orders~I giggles like a 9 years old which I was.
~till death~he smiled and make this move like soldier
Everything is slowly getting so quiet and peaceful, that I couldn’t even feel his hand on mine. My eyes were closing but not on their own.
I never feared of death, until now when I don’t see, don’t feel, don’t hear anything. I don’t want to go, I want to stay with him
Please
#tokyo revengers#izana kurokawa#kakucho hitto#tenjiku#ran haitani#izana angst#tokyo revengers smut#tokyo revengers angst#emma sano#mikey#toman#manjiro sano#shion madarame#haitani brothers#kanji mochizuki#kakucho x izana#toman gang
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Me watching Laws of Attraction Ep. 8 (Final EP):
1. Well, well, well up until the end, this series is trying hard to make me believe that either Charn is going to betray Tin or Charn will end up sacrificing himself to death. I would believe neither lol. I have seen this type of plot before. This ain't my first lakorn 😂😂😂
2. Gawd damn. At first glance, I thought Charn was offering a bottle of soy sauce to his mum 😂😂😂
3. Oooh. I guess they will do a live on Thattep's crimes. Side note: Silvy looks good.
4. Navin is all types of mental 😂 Even if Tin has some training in professional fighting, I don't think Navin, with all his craziness, will go down easily lol 😅 He is a gangster, after all.
5. I guess the ring DOES have power (forgive me for the LOTR pun 😅)
6. Sorry, that does not looked anything like an airplane (or an airport) 😅😅😅
7. Oooh. TinThee team up. Interesting... 🤝🤝🤝
8. I knew it! They will try to do a live feed on what will happen inside the warehouse.
9. You know, this all would have been avoided if Thattep was a bit smarter and did not kill that reporter outright. Or tried to frame up his own son. Then changed his story to the gardener stealing that car. Finally, ofc, Charn is going to double cross you 😂😂😂 For a supposedly smart politician, Thattep isn't all that lol.
10. Now, him and his goons are hunting Charn in warehouse. Really? After knowing they are the main characters in a live stream??? If Charn is killed inside the warehouse during that feed, then what does Thattep think would happen? Stupid, stupid man. 🤨🤨🤨
11. I guess Charn stopped being bulletproof. 😵 But, I still don't believe Charn will end up dead after this. Why? Because the villain didn't shoot him in the head. Lol. Again, Thattep is a stupid idiot! 😂😂😂😂
12. Oh, Charn is still bulletproof (with a real bulletproof vest). I guess he really does learn from his past mistakes lol.
13. Thee, stop being dramatic. Tan will surely come back lol. <after five seconds> See? Lol Tan made use of his famous tantrums and got banned from riding an airplane 😂😂😂
14. Charn playing the spoiled brat lol. The fvck. You are lucky, Tin dare not slap you 😂😂😂
15. Grandma KNOWS. Lol.
16. Why do you even care, Tan? Let your father rot in jail 😑
17. I cannot with Charn 😂😂😂😂😂 he made Tin a subservient househusband lol
18. The post-its remind me of Bad Buddy. Yes, BBS is in my blood. Get over it 😅😅😅😅
19. In a sense, this series does not only follow the classic lakorn plot, but the classic BL too (with one of the main characters singing for some reason) 😅
20. There he goes, like he swallowed the volumes of law books, before agreeing to marry Tin. 🤣🤣🤣
21. Navin, still crazy as always lol.
22. Waiiit. How did Thattep became the big boss inside the prison? Just because he used to be a politician? Because he's got money to pay everyone? And look, he still has the guts to threaten Charn inside the cell. Wth. But then again, Charn's smile is devious. Lol.
23. <after five seconds> That's what I'm talking about. Good riddance, Thattep.
24. Oooh. Wedding photos. 😊 Cute. I guess in this universe, same-sex marriage is legal in Thailand.
25. Thee and Tan are also free, with added bonus as Tan is Thattep's sole heir.
26. Ngl, I'm not feeling Charn's wedding fit. <after five seconds> nvm, it has a coat lol. That would work.
27. As always, Grandma is the ship's biggest cheerleader 😂
Despite having a plot that heavily borrows from old lakorns, this series is still enjoyable. I also like Film's (Charn) acting. His smile is creepy and devious whenever it needs to be. Also, they had let us listen to Silvy's golden voice more than once. What more can I ask for? 😁
On to the next series, then - either To Sir with Love or I Can Feel You Linger in the Air.
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wait but actually can we hear your thoughts about in the woods
actually gnashing my teeth even as I opened the reply box here. alright. but you asked.
In the Woods is a crime thriller/police procedural novel by Tana French, with a bit of an apparent twist. mainly, it's strongly hinted that there are paranormal elements. Rob Ryan, now a detective with the Dublin murder squad, lives in the shadow of the disappearance of his two best friends when they were all 12 years old. he himself was found in the woods, traumatised, mute, unable to remember what had happened, and with his shoes filled with blood that matched none of the children nor anyone on the database. his two friends were never seen again.
when a 12 year old girl is found murdered in the same area as his friends went missing, Rob gets himself put on the case. he hides his own history and goes at the mystery with all the grit of a Detective With A Past. and for the first part of the books, it's good. it's very creepy, very heartbreaking, the characters are all cool as hell, and Rob and his partner Cassie are an absolutely excellent portrayal of a man/woman friendship that's purely platonic and based on professional respect -- a really welcome subversion of the "man secretly loves the woman and tries to "win" her" trope that's found so often in books like these. it was brilliantly written, a lot of fun, and very compelling. but then things started going wrong.
I feel totally unashamed to spoil this book in this respect, because I firmly believe nobody should waste their time. if you pick this book up because you want to know what happened to Rob's friends (you know, the mystery the whole book was marketed on) you won't find out. you never know! Rob never finds out! the murder of the little girl is unrelated! it's her "psychopathic" older sister and the older sister's boyfriend. Rob, a detective, who has been haunted by this disappearance for his whole life, literally just says "sometimes we never know..." at the end and that's it. literally fuck all about it. there's no point at all, and I firmly believe that the author just realised she couldn't fucking explain it and decided to just shrug and say "it is a mystery" and move on. absolutely infuriating, especially because, as I said, the whole book is marketed on this mystery, and all the cover designs are spooky. it literally makes itself out to be a paranormal mystery kind of deal, and then we just get some bullshit about a "psychopath".
speaking of which, this "psychopath", Rosalind, is literally the most one dimensional character I have ever seen. it's clear that French is going for some Hannibal Lecter-esque suave, threatening femme fatale, but oh my god does she fail. Rosalind is cringe. she acts like some emo on MySpace circa 2007 who insists he's a vampire prince. she's supposed to be the criminal mastermind behind her sister's murder because she was jealous of her (Rosalind is 17. Katy is fucking 12.) and in the course of all this she apparently fools everyone, including our seasoned cop, whose characterisation does a 180 as he falls in love with her. he is a total creep about this, and also becomes a total asshole. it's like he becomes a different character. he becomes whiny and stupid and gulliable and emotionally immature. he sleeps with Cassie and then ghosts her, and then gets pissed off when she stops trying to contact him, moves on, and tells him he's a dickhead. (absolutely 5 stars for Cassie, who's the only character in this book worth liking. somebody give this woman a backrub because her shoulders must be aching from carrying the whole fucking book.) he also becomes insuffarably fucking smug, which results in the bit that destroyed this book for me.
if you're following my book rants, you know that the major thing I cannot stand is when books think they're smarter than they are. In the Woods reveals this with the following absolute whopper of a statement, by our narrator, the apparently experienced detective Rob fucking Ryan. when discussing how he didn't realise Rosalind was the murderer for ages, he tells the reader, who by the way he has never directly addressed before now:
But before you decide to despise me too thoroughly, consider this: she [Rosalind] fooled you too. You had as good a chance as I did.
shut up shut up SHUT UP. I knew!! I fucking knew as SOON as she walked into the living room in her VERY FIRST SCENE. I could practically hear the villain music. and this book -- this fucking book -- thinks it's so fucking smart and assumes in the narrative that the reader has been shocked by this revelation? that this try-hard "mysterious" girl who drifts around talking like an anime villain was -- gasp -- behind the murder all along? give me a BREAK!! if this is the brains behind the Dublin murder investigation squad then hooray for all murderers in Dublin, because they're going to get away with it whenever they like. I think I put it best in my earlier comments:
Quite frankly I'm offended that French created perhaps the dumbest detective in history and then blatantly accused her readers of being as thick as he was.
like god. it's cringe enough when a writer acts like their book is smarter than it is, but when they try to wink wink nudge nudge the reader with a smug little "haha! did you enjoy your time upon my Ruse Cruise"? I want to commit V I O L E N C E.
finally I have to go back to the earlier point because I do not want it to be overlooked: if you market a book on a mystery and set it all up like this mystery is going to be the answer to everything, do not then turn around and just say "you'll never know..." like Christ!! I was promised a creepy probably paranormal mystery and instead I got a detective who decided that detecting sounds too much like hard work and Veruca Salt if she'd grown up on true crime podcasts? fuck off!!
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Wen Yuan is smarter than most kids.
He knows what it really meant when the bad men told him they’re not here to harm him. That his cousin sent them to take him somewhere safe. That his popo would be waiting there with his sister.
Lies.
Even without his little gift, he knows that’s not where he’s going. He knows that his popo and his sister and his cousins are gone. That they’re rotting in acid bins in the tunnels of an old warehouse – well, that he Saw in his mind. Saw it the moment these guys crossed the threshold of his home, while he’d been a block away in a convenience store.
But Wen Yuan is smart. He knows, even without his little gift, that to make it obvious he knows better would be bad. He needs to make them believe he buys their lies. He needs to make them believe he’s lost all hope. He needs them to believe he’s just some poor orphan kid too terrified to count landmarks because they were dumb enough not to blindfold him.
When they stop at a red light, the noontime sun dims in the cover of a thick cloud.
Soon.
Wen Yuan tries not to visibly brace himself. He waits. A harried delivery guy swerves his scooter between lanes.
The light turns green. The man beside him takes out a cigarette and flicks open his lighter. A click and a lurch: the brakes come off.
Wen Yuan shoves the open flame into the man’s tie. “Hey!” The guy on his right tries to make a grab for him. Wen Yuan knees his crotch and wrenches the car door open, diving out into the sidewalk.
The momentum is harder than he expected, but he ignores the twinge in his ankle. He doesn't have much of a window. Wen Yuan runs.
He doesn’t look back to watch the delivery guy crash his scooter into the bad guy’s open door. And that when the clouds part, the noontime sun reflects off of a passing truck with a mirror, momentarily blinding the remaining bad guy. He's seen it all happen.
More importantly, Wen Yuan knows it’s all the time he’ll get.
But if he runs fast enough, yells loud enough, he can see a way out: a man with long hair, tied up with a red ribbon. Dark clothes that smell of blood and lotus flowers. A blood red blade.
As Wen Yuan weaves in and out of the lunch crowd, closer and closer to the edge of the business district, where seedy motels pepper nightclubs and empty parking lots, the image grows clearer in his mind. The man has gray eyes and a warm smile, a large gentle hand on his head—
Someone grabs his shoulder, jerking him back hard enough it nearly wrenches his arm from its socket.
“Got you, fucking brat!”
The vision flickers, the paths less certain. NO! Wen Yuan bites the hand on his shoulder hard enough to draw blood.
“FUCK!”
Wen Yuan pitches himself forward and dashes across the road. A six wheeler truck misses him by a split second. It doesn’t miss the guy on his tail. Wen Yuan flinches at the ensuing screams and crashes, but can’t bring himself to feel true remorse. Not for his family’s murderers.
As he crosses the next block, the image forms again. The storefronts grow more familiar, and the vision in his head nearly overlaps his reality.
He swivels into a side alley and follows it through to the next street. A man in dark clothes exits from the employee door of a motel, his hair held up by a blood red ribbon. Wen Yuan nearly sobs in relief.
“Please help me!” Wen Yuan grabs at the man's shirt. It smells of blood and lotus flowers. Already, the vision of himself strapped to a table is fading, the phantom bite of leather straps around his arms all but gone.
“Wha—” The guy jerks back but Wen Yuan holds fast. A name blooms in his mind.
“Yiling Laozu.” Silvery gray eyes snap towards his. “Please, save me!”
#tw kidnapping#mo dao su zhi#mdzs fic#mamoonde wip snippets#wen yuan#a-yuan has a nifty little trick#modern au#tw violence#mentioned torture#mentioned murder of family#the tags make it sound a little darker than it is i promise
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15 Questions, 15 Mutuals
Again, thanks a lot to @dogmomwrites <33
Because I've already done this tag I decided to answer these questions as Ulfrika, my main OC. Hopefully, you're going to enjoy:)
DISCLAIMER: Ulfrika is like a sea. Salty and people are afraid of her.
Are you named after anyone? Not necessarily a person, but after an old wolf as 'úlfr' means 'wolf' in Old Norse.
When was the last time you cried? I'll only cry tears of happiness once I dance on the bones of my enemies. (note from Axl: She's lying. She cries every night to herself. She's only playing 3edgy5u card.)
Do you have kids? No. I take care of other gremlins every day of my life. I don't need any more goblins who can do barely more than cry and scream.
Do you use sarcasm a lot? The question should be whether you use your brain for asking such unintelligible things...
What’s the first thing you notice about people? Whether they have the courage to look me in the eye or not. Of course, whether they are willing to lie, as well.
What’s your eye color? Black, but my Master used to tell me I had the biggest brown eyes he'd ever seen. I suspect the truth is somewhere in the middle. (note from Axl: Ulfa doesn't have a reflection so she can't say herself.)
Scary movies or happy endings? The first option. People should realise happy endings are the poison of their rationality. It blinds you and pushes you blindly into the unkonown. The fear though, it keeps you on alert, it doesn't allow you to slow down, it sharpens your senses, instincts and makes you quicker, smarter, better. It allows you to survi- Oh, my apologies. Only now, I noticed we were speaking of movies, not a real life. Hm... Still, scary movies. There's nothing better when they use the fakest blood out there.
Any special talents? That depends on what precisely you deem to be special. I deeply appreciate the company of animals and thus I learnt how to exactly mimic their sounds. It doesn't matter if it is a horse, a wolf, a raven or any other creature. Thinking of it further, some people say my voice can get awfully similar to those of other people, as well...
Where were you born? Another peculiar question?! As you wish. I...am not sure. All I remember is a dark sky and that it was rather cold. Maybe it began to snow. Who knows. What I know for sure, though, is that the place where I grew up would be nowadays considered either Central or Eastern Europe.
What are your hobbies? Hobbies? Well, I'm quite fond of reading, especially scientific books and articles, as well as playing instruments, a piano, to be detailed. Yet, my sister and I used to do a lot of crochet. My apologies once again as I forgot my favourite - cars. They caught my attention some time ago and I admit it is vastly entertaining to upgrade parts of the 1969 Chevrolet Camaro SS me and my collegue discovered on the scrapyard.
Have you any pets? I don't like such a word, however I see where you're coming from. Yes. My companions are Tiru, a she-wolf, Krabat, a raven, Meluzína and Lešij, two horses. Although, a few days ago I found this little puppy in the streets and I supposse I'm keeping the little guy. His name is Argu. (note from Axl: translation for Meluzína is 'howling/wailing wind' and Lešij is 'Leshy').
What sports do you play/have played? I must admit I am keen on swordsmanship and horse-riding. I keep myself in shape by mountain running, too.
How tall are you? 214 cm which should be around 7 ft tall.
Favorite subject in school? I never attended one when I was younger but probably that you now consider Biology or Chemistry. In general, I dare to say, the science field interests me the most.
Dream job? Again, you and your dreams...a doctor, though, I already am one...
Tags, which are REALLY soft (so participate only if you truly want, I don't want to pressure anyone^^): @faelanvance @frogqueenofmirkwood @arijensineink @minutiaewriter @myhusbandsasemni @vanessaroades-author @riltansteel @emberlyric
#writeblr community#writeblr#writing community#writers on tumblr#writers of tumblr#tag game#original character#oc character#original character answers#writing
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I Love Every Variation of You
Angst
Hurt/Comfort
Emotional Hurt/Comfort
buck runs into an ex
and the ex sucks
Established Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Non-Consensual Touching
Drinking
Sexual Harassment
TW: mentions of drinking, sexual harassment, slut shaming
You'd think after thousands of years of evolution humans would be smarter. Yet, somehow, humans can be so unbelievably dumb. They've been called to a scene where a guy is stuck in a garbage can. His friend made a bet that he wouldn't fit, and now he's unable to get out. It's as funny as it is stupid. It's taking all of Buck's restraint not to burst out laughing. He has to remain professional.
"Chim, grab the saw. It'll be easiest to cut him out," Bobby orders.
"On it, Cap."
The man pales a bit at the mention of the saw. Hen reassures him that it won't hurt him, it'll just cut through the metal. He still looks like he's about to pass out. That could also be due to the lack of blood flow, but there's nothing they can do about that until he gets out. Chim returns a few moments later with the saw. Cutting him out only takes a couple of minutes. The guy immediately stretches out, sighing in relief. Hen and Chim offer to take him to the hospital to make sure he's fine, but he turns them down. He's more focused on getting the twenty bucks from his friend for winning the bet.
They head back to the station. They arrive just as B-shift is getting there. They're working the nightshift today, which Buck is grateful for. He could use a good night's sleep. He'd picked up Alvarez's shift so she could go on a trip with her wife. He's been working for 48 hours straight without much rest.
"You guys wanna grab a drink?" Chim calls out.
"Absolutely. I'm craving fried food. Can we go to that bar with the garlic fries?" Hen chimes in.
"Yes. But you have to promise that you'll bring breath mints with you. Eddie, Bobby, Buck, you in?"
Bobby bows out because he has plans with Athena. Buck is tempted to say no and go home, but he'd much rather hang out with his friends than go back to his empty loft. He'd driven with Eddie today, so the two of them head out together. Eddie's driving, so Buck picks the music. They discuss their day on the way there.
"I'm just saying, if you want to eat peanut butter with an allergy, at least do it outside of a hospital," Eddie laughs.
"Hey, at least he called us before eating it."
"It's quite the sacrifice to make for a bit of peanut butter."
"You're one to talk. I've seen you eating out of the peanut butter jar with a spoon."
Eddie smiles guiltily. They pull into the parking lot of the bar. It's packed. Hen and Chim are already there. They've claimed a booth far away from the door. There's a plate of garlic fries sitting on the table. Hen has already eaten most of them. Eddie places an order of plain fries for the rest of them. The music is loud, but not overwhelming. It's some old pop song. Buck recognizes the lyrics but can't think of the name.
"What are you guys planning for your 48 off?" Chim asks around a mouthful of fries.
"We're taking Chris to an exhibit at the science museum. Him and Buck have been talking about it for weeks. What about you?"
"Maddie and I have a date planned. It's some place Bobby recommended."
"I'm just going to take it easy. Have a lazy weekend. Karen and I have been trying to find time to watch a movie."
They chatter aimlessly, enjoying each other's company. Buck snatches a fry out of Eddie's hand like a shark. Eddie rolls his eyes, but there's no heat behind it. He can't help the smile that graces his face. Chim debates with Buck about whether or not he can beat him in a game of four square. Neither of them have played in decades, but they ignore that fact. Eddie keeps quiet about his elementary school title as 'four square king'.
"I'm going to go grab a beer. Anyone want one?"
Everyone gives Buck their orders. They all get the same things as usual. It's tradition. It's fairly simple for Buck to remember. He still recites it under his breath as he makes his way to the bar. The bartender is busy, running back and forth. Buck remembers what that was like. Working at a bartender is always harder than it looks. Buck waits until the bartender has a free moment to place his order.
While waiting, he leans against the bar. He rests his elbows on the wood. The bar is filling up fast. Buck looks around the room. There's a group of young women in a corner, wearing matching bachelorette party gear. A couple is sitting at a table, chatting over a shared bottle of wine. A few people are flirting at the bar. A woman makes her way over to Buck, and he politely turns her down. He tells her his boyfriend is sitting across the room. She apologizes and heads off, moving to flirt with a woman farther down. She seems to have more success with her than she did with Buck.
"Evan Buckley?"
Buck looks towards the voice. He curses internally when he sees who it is. He knew he recognized the voice. It's his ex-boyfriend, Russell. He hadn't seen Russ in years, not since he first moved to LA. He hasn't changed much. Besides a few more wrinkles and a couple grey hairs, he looks the same. Russ had been a mistake. He seemed sweet at first. Turned out that he's a piece of shit. He had cheated on Buck with a guy he met at work. And if that wasn't bad enough, he tried to blame Buck for it, purposely preying on all of Buck's insecurities. Buck had gotten out of there as soon as he could. He was hoping he would never have to see this guy again.
READ THE REST ON AO3
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