#the original scene is so bright and YELLOW AH
Note
remember to do the biphobia/queer hangout post!!
i rlly wanna read it!!<3
Assumption Make an Ass Out of You
Prompt by @whomst-the-hell: steve always knew he was queer fic where steve keeps trying to invite himself to Queer Hangouts w eddie and robin and they keep being like “uhhhh this isnt really your scene…” until steve is finally like “listen i get it ok theres all this fucking stigma but you two are the last people i expected this from!” and eddie and robin are like “youre a very good ally and we appreciate it but the truth is you just cannot relate to some of our experiences and you need to accept that!” and then steve is like “woooaaaahhh hold on i think we’re having two different conversations. i thought you were doing that thing gay ppl do sometimes where they treat bi people like we arent really queer or whatever. did you guys genuinely think i was heterosexual? lol that’s embarrassing”
Gave it a spelling and grammar check before putting it on A03: Assumption Make an Ass Out of You - technically-a-writer-technically (RegularRainbow) - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]
Eddie calls Robin: Birdie
Tags: Angsty, probably a bit ooc, they mean well, their tough love is tough though. Original Male Character/Steve Harrington. I tried learning 80s Slang for this, it lasted several hours and then I wrote this all-in-one sitting, so probably not 80s accurate, especially towards the end. Not beta read, we die like men.
1. Never met an Ally so Good
Tall, Olive Skin, Green Eyes, passed Steve a drink, something pink and yellow, blended ice, with a tiny umbrella and a cherry.
“I didn’t know what you were drinking, but I took my best guess” He said, smile bright as fluorescent lights. The guy was cute in a clinical type of way, clean cut, clean-shaven.
Steve smiled, took the straw from his melting ice in a cup, and gave it a taste, twisting the straw around his tounge. “Ah. Tastes Perfect,”
“Oh, you’re a real maneater aren’t you,” He slipped between Steve’s legs, resting his hands on either side of Steve, boxing him in, “Come on Pretty Boy let me take you for a spin.”
Steve smiled, red decorating the tips of his ears and nose. “Sorry, can’t stay that long gotta drive back to nowhere-ville”
“Alright, Just one dance then, and maybe your number?”
Steve bit the corner of his lip, and smiled “Maybe …” All doe eyes, looking up from under his lashes,“ … maybe you could kiss me?”
“Hey, why don’t you back off” said Eddie, stepping between the two, pushing the guy back with an extended hand.
“Really! I don’t see your name on him” The guy squawked, Steve hadn’t even gotten his name.
“That’s not,” was Eddie’s reply, he sighed “look I’m helping you, trust me, he’s just being nice.”
“Looks like a fucking Belle to me,”
Eddie tilted his head and fixed him with a look, throwing his hand up as if to shrug, and said, “He’s just too nice to tell you to go away.”
“Look there are better ways to get dudes off your guy, you don’t gotta lie,” Then he peeked behind Eddie to get a good look at Steve one more time, and with a wink, he said, “If you ever find yourself in need of French lessons you know where to find me.”
Steve giggled, twirling his straw. (Fucking Flirting.)
Then, Steve said, “You really didn’t need to do that Eddie, I was fine, he was fine.”
“No, he was not fine. He was hitting on you, Steve” Robin chimed in.
“Isn’t that, like, the point of all this. Aren’t we here to get hit on? Flirt a little,” Steve leaned in and whispered, “Wave the white flags, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, but it’s not cool to lead people on Steve, especially not here.” Eddie said.
Steve winced a little, his smile falling slightly, before he picked it back up, “I mean, there’s no harm in flirting, I didn’t know you guys were gonna get all riled up because I didn’t want to take him home.”
“Look it’s not all about sex, this is about community.” Robin said.
Steve sucked his teeth, and took a swig of his beer, “Okay, uh, whatever, I’m gonna pay for my drinks, and uh, sit in a fucking corner I guess.”
“Grow up, King Steve” Eddie said.
“Fuck you, Eddie, King Steve thinks you should find your own ride home.”
“I mean, we should probably leave.” Robin said.
“No, Rob, if it’s gonna be like that, I’ll just wait in the car.” Steve said. He gathered his things, throwing his coat on, fluffing his hair up and out from under the collar of his a letterman style jacket.
Steve stepped out into the cool night air, face hot with fury. He sighed, trying to release the tension that had begun to build.
“Hey, Pretty Boy, I didn’t get your name before your guard dog cock-blocked.”
“It’s — He’s just a friend. And, Uh, It’s Steve, Yours?”
“My friends call me Ian,”
“Well, Ian, thanks for the drink”
“Really,” Ian said, and it was almost a laugh, “I just had the bartender throw something together, I don’t like that fruity shit, I mean not like that, I just don’t like fruit juice, from fruit,” His talking tapered out. “You’re super cute, and it kind of fries my brain. I mean those pants are too tight.” (Ian say too tight, like he doesn’t mean it, like those pants make him think of something else.)
Steve laughed and looked down at himself, before smiling back at Ian. “Still want my number?”
2. Lavender Menace
Steve dyed the bottom layer of his hair purple. The faintest shade of lavender, barely it, In fact, it was practically silver. But, still, he was sure that everyone who needed to know that it wasn’t silver, would notice. They would notice.
“Did you dye your hair, Steve?” Robin asked, leaning across the Book Store counter to get a good look at his peek-a-boo dye job.
Steve resisted the urge to shake his head and show off. It took a long time to get his hair all nice, he wasn’t gonna mess it up for five seconds of Rob’s appreciation, not after the stunt she and Eddie pulled with Ian.
“Joyce helped,” Steve said, and brushed his fingers through the thick of his hair to show off the dye, just a little bit.
“Don’t you think you should have gone with another color,” Rob said, “You don’t want people to get the wrong idea about you.”
“I —“
“The hoard has arrived,” Eddie declared, as Mike, Will, and Dustin ran in straight for the new comic book section. “Whoa, your hair.” he said.
“Yeah, my hair.” Steve felt the weight of a frown pull at the corners of his mouth.
“You sure that’s the right color?” Eddie grabbed a lock of Steve’s dyed hair, and twirled it between his fingers, “You let the toner sit too long, it’s all purple-y now.”
With a huff, Steve said, “I was going for purple-y”
“Yeah?” Robin said.
“Why?” Eddie said.
“Because I want people to know I’m down with Dorthy” Steve said.
“You shouldn’t have dyed your hair purple, though” Eddie replied.
“Yeah, I agree, I think it’s a bit much … you’ve gone a bit too far this time, and after the bar” Robin said
“W-What do you mean after the bar that was all you guys, I was just having a good time.”
Eddie sighed and looked away, throwing his head back, and disappearing down an isle. “You explain it to your pet jock, Birdie, my head hurts.”
“Look Steve, people don’t need to know you’re ‘down with Dorothy’ it’s better if your not loud about it actually, keeps everyone safer anyway.”
Steve gets hot in the face, bright white-hot red in the cheeks, breaks into a sweat, he’s so mad. Then he’s close to crying, clearing his throat some, but it’s closing in on him. He’s so furious, he’s near tears about it. Dancing around breaking into tears.
If they didn’t like his hair, they could have just said that.
“Whatever you say, Robin” he said, wetly.
“Steve come on, it’s not your life, it’s ours” was Robin’s reply.
He doesn’t speak to her for the rest of their shift.
When Steve got home, he dialed Ian’s house. Ian was there in five minutes flat (He lived 15 minutes away).
“Wow,” Ian said, “Your hair”
“Yeah, I know it’s awful” Steve said, the memory of his earlier conversations brought up sour thoughts.
“No, no, you look pretty, a real bodacious babe.”
Steve smiled, for the first time since he got of shift. “Shut up,”
“Kiss me about it,” was Ian’s reply.
3. Steve’s House Doesn’t have a Purple Door.
“You could have your party at my place?” Steve said, “My parents aren’t gonna be home for another like month anyway”
Eddie smiled at Robin,
“Plus, I’m great at throwing parties, you remember my parties.”
“I don’t think we,” Eddie gestured between himself and Robin, “Were ever invited to King Steve’s famous parties.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Steve said, “But they were famous for a reason. Have it at my place, it makes sense. The venue is like 50% of a party.”
“I was thinking, no allies though” Eddie said, “Just queer deviancy,” Eddie brought the devil hands up to his head like ears and smiled at Robin. They fist bumped.
What they meant was no Steve it seemed.
“Hey, can you pick us up? Robin voice came through the phone loud, like she was shouting on her end of the line.
“From where?” Steve asked.
“A party,” Robin said, Steve felt her wiggle her eyebrows, and she giggled softly.
“I need the location?” Steve said.
“Oh, um, were near Byrock Ct,”
“Okay, I’ll be there in a few.”
Steve got in his car and drove to the Byrock Bar, with its purple backdoor. Ian took him there once, and they danced. Steve loved dancing, it was nice letting go.
This didn’t feel nice.
Robin and Eddie crammed into the backseat of his car, laughing, tipsy, and maybe a little high. Covered in glitter. Eddie had red lipstick on and smeared down his chin. Robin was wearing, glitter gloss and a silvery highlighter.
“You guys look like you had fun,” Steve finally said, before he pulled off.
“I thought you guys were gonna stay in tonight,”
“Steve,” Robin said, it seemed with no real purpose at all, except maybe to stop Steve from going on.
“No, I remember you guys saying that nothing fun was happening tonight so you guys weren’t going out, that’s what you told me!” Steve said, he was white-knuckling the steering wheel.
“Look, Steve, Birdie’s not gonna tell you, but sometimes we’ve got to leave poor ol’ Stevie at home.” Eddie said, kicking his feet up on the block of an armrest between the driver’s and passenger’s seat.
“Not every night is meant to include you, sometimes daddy’s got to come out and play” He said with a smile and a laugh.
Robin sputtered, “Ew, ew, I never want to hear you say something like that again.”
The drive home consisted of laughter and chatter between Eddie and Robin.
Steve pulled up to the entrance of Eddie’s trailer park, it was a short walk, maybe two trailers in was Eddie’s home. Usually, Steve drove him right up to the entrance, any closer and Eddie would fall into his home after opening the door.
“We’re here” Steve said, and put his car in park.
Eddie balked, “Really, are you being serious right now Stevie?”
“Shut up, don’t call me that.” Steve said, quickly, afraid he sounded like a petulant child, but angry enough that it didn’t matter much. “Get out of my car.” He said each word, one by one.
“Okay, King Steve, I’ll never ask for a ride with getting you your invite.”
“You’re a real fuck head, Eddie.”
“Whatever,” Eddie said, and slammed the door.
“That wasn’t fair dude,” Robin said. “How are we supposed to trust you if-”
Steve turned around, giving Robin a death stare, “Nothing, I don’t want to hear it, I, fuck Rob, I trusted you guys”
“Steve?”
“Shut. Up. Shut up.”
He dropped Rob off in front of her house, didn’t even pull into the driveway. He watched her get home safe, same way he did Eddie.
4. Steve’s Queer Agenda
Steve hasn’t been talking to them. He’s not gonna apologize first. And he’s not gonna speak to them until they apologize. Even if he felt like a bitch laying the silent treatment on thick.
Ian was rubbing his back, letting him lay all over him.
He mumbled into Ian’s lap.
“I can not understand jibberish.”
“Play with my hair, loser”
“Ooh, be nice.” Ian said, threading his finger into Steve’s hair.
There was a knock at the door, nice and sweet. Then another, practically knocking the door off its hinges.
“Okay, okay, coming” Steve shouted.
“Harrington residence, how can I help you?” Steve said.
Eddie smiled, pushing himself and Robin into the Harrington homestead.
Ian leaned up, peering over the sofa. He was looking for Steve, evident by the smile on his face, that fell quickly when he saw the culprits making Steve so, well, sad. Sad was the only way to put it. Beneath the quiet anger was hurt, and it hurt more than it made Steve angry. “Well, well, if it isn’t the terrible two-some”
“Bar guy?” Eddie said.
“Ian. My name is Ian.”
“Well, what are you two doing here because I don’t hear enough ass-kissing.” Ian said.
“Look,” Eddie said, looking from Ian to Steve “Maybe we all have the wrong idea,”
“Steve, I’m sorry we told you not to come out with us, and then had you come pick us up,” Robin said.
“Me too, I’m sorry” Eddie said.
“You’re a good ally” Eddie started.
“Are you fucking kidding me!” Steve interrupted. “Why even come if you’re just gonna fucking invalidate me to my face, what’s the point? I get it, I’m bisexual. I’m not gay. Fucking, Steve’s not queer enough to come out with us and get shitfaced. Whatever, call me whatever you want behind my back, but in my house? Really!”
“What?” Robin and Eddie said, practically in unision.
“Look, be biphobic somewhere else, okay. I don’t feel like dealing with this ever again.”
“No, no, I thought you were straight,”, “We,” Eddie gestured between himself and Robin, “thought you were straight.” Eddie practically tripped over his words, he was speaking them so fast.
“Are you fucking with me?” Steve said, “You thought I was straight.”
Eddie hesitantly nods, “We maybe thought you were straight.”
“Fucking, fuck you guys,”
“Yeah, fuck you guys” Ian said, repeated from the couch, laying down ergo he wasn’t visible anymore. “You made my boyfriend cry”
Robin looked horrified, “Steve, I didn’t know, I’m so so sorry. I never meant to make you feel like you didn’t have a community.” She quickly wiped away her tears, evidently determined not to cry right now, as she got red and sniffly. Robin walked toward Steve arms out like she was going to try to hug him. She was.
Robin said, “Can I hug you, Steve”
Steve, who had been trying to keep it all together, sniffled. He wasn’t going to cry if she wasn’t. He was supposed to be mad. He wrapped his arms around her, and buried his head in her shoulder.
Steve wanted to be angry, or he felt like he should be angry. Yet, he wasn’t, he was mad at them for making assumptions, for excluding him.
But, they were family. He’d been mad at them for as long he could, and then he’d taken to gray, blah, sadness. Not crying, but like trying to stave off a rainstorm. There was nothing he wanted to hear more than: we accept you.
It helped take the edge off. He could be mad about it later, take in all their forgiveness now.
“I’m really sorry, Steve, really, really, sorry” Robin said.
“We fucked up, Steve, I fucked up. I’m sorry too. I’m really sorry.” Eddie said.
“Now kiss,” Ian chimed in.
Steve laughed.
#Steve Harrington is Bisexual#Eddie is Gay#Stranger Things Fanfiction#Steve Harrington#I forgot the Steddie#I'm sorry#have some angst instead#I hope this makes yall sweaty#I was heated writing it#I might add Steddie but it won't be until 2026 probably#I have things i'm supposed to finish#I have updated a one of my wips in years#I want to finish it#also posted on ao3
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mysterion design >:D
notes under the cut
-i'm imagining for this au everyone's middle school aged, so still like, kids, just a bit older
-ignore the fact that i fucked up the colors on all the text i SHOULD have had the colors shift between lines it helps legibility but i didn't fsr??? i'll figure that out in later art dw
-GOD THESE COLORS TOOK FOREVER the og colors are SUPER desaturated and also more on the pink side of purple but I prefer to use saturated colors and wanted to go more towards the blue side of purple (than the colors are closer to complimentary colors between mysterion and kenny)
-ended up going with a very soft look (rounded edges and ovals and softer lines) i was thinkng off of the batman inspo actually and thinking about that scene in the lego batman movie where the brick notes batmans design isn't very hero looking, i mean it is by western standards but like when i think of a good hero and symbol of justice and hope i think of twintaild magical girls with ultra frilly skirts and cute mascots and sparkles and stars everywhere but like.. i'm biased.... anyway I chose the softer lines to make him feel softer and instead relied any edgy vibes on the colors and body language rather than the shapes (i mean i still used triangles but yeah)
-I ended up not going with brown boots cause i didn't want to have to tie in another color, and i had the epic idea of the little question mark symbols on the soles of the shoes and the m logo on the ... toungue i think it's called?
-so I originally wasn't gonna show his hair but I thought it would help to balance the colors more as the white shorts felt too bright
-i didn't plan to post this or else i would've tried to better phrase all the writing lmao
-i went with rounded feet to make him feel like, floaty?
-one smaller challenge was keeping a short stature for kenny while still making him look like, menancing and powerful, another reason why i went with the graceful floaty feet, I also had the shorts flair out with that triangle shape like they do to emphasize and blend together the general shape of the body
-miiight have accidentally made him more androgynous~ my ass spent years studying and learning how to make characters appear masculine than said 'yeah no thankyou everyone is going to be at least a LITTLE bit pretty <3'
-ah look how nice and not over crowded the doodles are... yeah say goodbye to empty space cause Cartman/theCoon's completely lacks it. I like drawing fluffy animal ears and found the need to label all the drawings "furry" or "menance" so yeah
-i'm that one bitch that says fuck canon even canon doesn't give a shit bout canon so why should i? and never draws kenny with blue eyes, always either light brown or preferrable purple. mostly cause i feel blue + blonde is too basic and I find that the purple makes for a nicer contrast and overall pallete. Cause brown kinda just blends in, cause then his entire color scheme is all within the same hue range, but purple sticks out better + leaning into the magenta side of it looks great with orange
-petition for the southpark fan wiki to acknowledge how fuckign similar Mysterion and the mysterious mare do well are
-funfacts!! considered having the buckles be silver instead of gold (changed to balance with the blonde hair and tie back in the orange/yellow hues) considered having the inside of the cape be a lighter shade of purple either pulling in more pink or blue tinted shades, changed cause it made the overall color scheme to bright
-in case you were wondering 90% of my art has the same stupid level of thought put into it as posts i do add notes onto, I just figured most people don't want a ramble about shape launguage and colors on their silly blorbo fanart posts lmao. but if you find any of this interesting or heck if you ever have a ramble about your own art my inbox is always open~ i love getting to discuss drawing :D
#[redacted] is south park btw but i'm not giving up on the [redacted] bit so pretend you don't know this#yes this means there exists a southpark fanfic where two characters get married in hell#south park#kenny mccormick#mysterion#kyukyudraws#should i tag this tfbw? probably#sp tfbw
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Narrator: The City of Townsville! And no better place to spend father's day.
(The camera zooms in before cutting to a pair of yellow kites in the air, one labelled 'DAD', and one labelled 'SON'. The camera stays on these for a brief moment before panning down to the father and son holding them and smiling, clearly enjoying their time together. The father pats the sparse hair on his son's head before the camera starts to pan right. As it does so, we see a father and son playing catch by a bench, a father and son on the bench eating ice cream, and on their other side another pair who have just finished a game of basket ball by the looks of things.)
Man 1: Son, when I was your age...ah, I was twelve. (His son looks shocked by the revelation, clearly having expected this story to go elsewhere.
Man 2: Billy, that was an amazing shot! (Closeup of basketball father as he speaks. Someday you're gonna be a famous player! (They hug)
Narrator: Yes, it's a wonderful day for all the dads of Townsville.
(The father and son duo move away to display Mojo on another park bench. He is looking rather bored and unimpressed with the day's events so far and drinking from a restaurant soda cup.
Narrator: Well, almost.
(Close-up of Mojo. He begins to mock the father he has just seen.)
Mojo: (Mocking) You're going to be a famous player. (Normal) Sickening. (He goes back to his drink as another father and son pair catches his eye to his right. We cut to them, where the excited boy has decided to sit on his father's lap.)
Boy 1: Dad! I wanna be a man just like you someday.
Man 3: I love you too, son.
(Once again, the pair hug.)
Mojo: Oh puh-lease. (His expression changes as instead of the usual cheerful exchanges we hear crying. Mojo looks on in surprise as the camera cuts to a rather nerdy-looking redhead sporting broken glasses, grey shirt and green and orange checkered shorts. His underwear has been pulled out of his shorts, and his face is bright red. He is crying to an identically-dressed man reading a newspaper.)
Boy 2 (crying): DADDY! (pointing o.c.) THOSE MEAN BOYS BEAT ME UP, AND TOOK MY ICE CREAM MONEY, AND GAVE ME A WEDGIE!
(Mojo looks in the direction he's pointing, and gasps in shock. The Rowdyruff Boys are kneeling there, counting the money.)
Mojo: The Rowdyruff boys?! (Jump closer to the Boys, who look up and smile)
Mojo: This is not possible! How is it that something that was destroyed can exist again? (He walks to the Boys and stops in front of them)
Mojo: I demand an explanation as to how something that was destroyed can exist again! (The Boys look at each other, then back at him)
Brick: Duh, nice hat, Dorko! (They laugh; Mojo comes up and brandishes a finger at them)
Mojo: How dare you talk to your father that way!
girls: Father?! (Now they start laughing hysterically, pounding the ground. Close up of Mojo, who is shocked by something o.c. "Him" descends into view, arms outstretched so as to hold the Boys in a very loose embrace. In the following exchange, the camera focusses on the speaker.)
Him: Yes, it seems that the boys have found a new father now.
Mojo: What?
Him: I brought the boys back, so I am their father now. (Him now lays on the floor, the boys gathered around him. At first Brick appears to be stood on Him's leg as he is not floating, but by the next line has resumed floating far above this spot. Mojo comes into view, pointing an angry finger at this strange scene before him. Mojo continues to make various hand gestures, often with little to do with what he's saying, as he speaks.)
Mojo: Incorrect! The Rowdyruff Boys were my idea, which means I was the original creator! Yes, it was I who originally created them, which means it was my creativity which led to the origin of the idea which resulted in the creation of them. Therefore the idea originated before the actual creating began, resulting in total origination of all creativity.
(Him looks on wearily, stifling a yawn. Cut to the boys.)
Brick: Uh, I didn't get that the first time. Can you repeat that? (Boomer and Butch laugh, shortly joined by Brick and Him while Mojo steams away at being the butt of yet another joke. Him sits up, drawing himself closer to Mojo.)
Him: I'm sorry, Mojo, but your creation was destroyed by the Powerpuff Girls, (He shoots to his feet. Evil voice) And would probably still be destroyed (Falsetto) if I didn't revive them. Besides (The camera cuts to a shot of the interior of Him's broken up house, showing the original versions of the Rowdyruff Boys) seeing as I made them better (A claw waves in front of the boys, turning them into the versions we know now. Once more he holds them in a loose embrace. Evil voice) They should remain mine.
Mojo: Better?! (The scene returns to the park as Mojo jabs a finger furiously at Him's chest.) How could you make Mojo Jojo's design of the Rowdyruff boys any better?
Him: (Laughing hysterically, falsetto) By making them immune to the Powerpuff Girls' girly kisses! (The scene shows Him holding his immunization to the boys before stock footage displays the girls attempting to defeat the boys with kisses in 'The Boys Are Back In Town'. They now tower over the girls, eyes glowing red.) Now they can't be destroyed by the mere touch of cooties. (Back to the park, evil voice) So why don't you run along, chimp chump?!
(Mojo really starts fuming now until he can no longer hold it back and practically leaps at Him in his eagerness to argue back.)
Mojo: Those boys were created to do pure evil, which makes me the more fit father since I am pure evil.
Him: (Suddenly holding a lolly pop. Falsetto voice.) Oh, I'm sorry, but nobody does evil (Evil voice) The way I do!
(The two disgruntled fathers really start to get in one another's face as the argument continues.)
Mojo: That is not so!
Him: (Falsetto voice) Is so!
Mojo: Is not so!
Him: Is so!
(Cut to the boys, looking very bored and practically falling asleep on their feet as they wait for things to move along swiftly. (Y/N) then appears next to the boys as they all then played some rock paper scissors.)
Mojo: Is not!
Him: Is so!
Mojo: Is not!
Him: (Evil voice) Is so!
Mojo: Is not.
Him: Is so!
(Cut back to the arguing fathers. They are now level, as though Mojo has suddenly gained a few meters in height, glaring deeply into one another's eyes. Pull back as Mojo pushes Him away, showing the former to be stood atop a stack of phone books.)
Mojo: Very well then! Since you will not acknowledge that I, Mojo Jojo, the original creator of the Rowdyruff Boys, who were originally created by me, am the more evil father, you leave me no alternative but to PROVE that I am the more evil father, therefore making me the better parent!
Him: (Leaning in, falsetto) Fine then. (Evil) And I will prove that I am the eviller parent!
Mojo: Very well then!
Mojo, Him: (Him returns to his falsetto as the screen splits to show both head on.) Let the evil begin!
The scene switches to show an election campaign. The Mayor stands by a podium, flanked by two bodyguards as a crowd stands below him. Above sits a banner reading 'MAYOR '04'. Pull back to show this is being watched on a screen by Mojo and the boys.)
Mojo: First, I will demonstrate my total evilness by kidnapping the Mayor of Townsville! (Mojo pulls a few levers on the control board in front of him as he laughs.)
Mayor: Friends and neighbours and, uh, fellow bedwetters! We are gathered here today to witness the holy union between- (One of the guards leans in to whisper into the Mayor's ear.) Huh? Oh? You don't say! Who's getting elected?
Mojo: Now, observe.
Mayor: And furthermore, it has come to my attention that there are just too many of you. And (He continues under as the screen focusses on a camera. The lense opens up and a large nozzle stretches out. On the barrel is written 'TRCP 800'.)
Mojo: Behold, the TRCP 800!
(Cut to inside)
Boomer: You mean... Totally Rad City Pulverizer?
Mojo: No, dumb-dumb.
(Brick happily takes the opportunity to hit his brother. Cut back to the TRCP as what appears to be a floating pickle with an antennae comes from the nozzle.)
Mojo: The remote-control pickle!
Mayor: Which brings me to my next point, which is (He notices the pickle floating before him) Guh, eh, the point, eh, um the point is...eh, which is... (He grunts and throws himself down, now crawling after the pickle.) Pickle, pickle, pickle, pickle, pickle, pickle (Cut to Mojo as he laughs, then back to the Mayor as he continues to repeat the same word over and over as he crawls through a sea of legs, down the stairs of the Town Hall, down a busy road, to an alleyway that bids no-one enter and through the barring fence, breaking it and getting his clothes caught and torn off in the process.)
Mojo: Now prepare to witness true evil!
The floating pickle stop before a simple box trap held up by a stick connected to a string before disappearing inside. The box itself claims to be for holding pickles. The Mayor continues to crawl toward the trap, relentlessly babbling over his need for pickles. As he approaches, we cut between Mojo and the Mayor, the former hovering his finger over a big red button.)
Mojo: Steady...steady
Him: Yoo-hoo! (A large shadow falls over the Mayor, diverting his attention upwards) Up here, mister Mayor! (Cut to Him, piloting some form of flying vehicle. He even wears a pilot's cap.)
Mayor: Pickle?
(We pull back to show the airborne vehicle in question is in fact a blimp made to look like a pickle. The Mayor reaches for this and then follows it blindly.)
Mayor: Pickle.
Mojo: (Watching this development on a screen) Curses!
(Cut to the blimp interior as Him teleports the boys over. They appear dazed.)
Him: And now, my dear boys, I will show you just how evil I am, by letting the mayor play a little game of upsy downsy. (The blimp stops over a tall building, which the Mayor instantly goes to climb.) Good little mayor. (He reaches the top of the building and starts reaching for the blimp.)
Mayor: Pickle pickle?
Him: (Pushing a lever) Whoops. (The blimp continues onwards without its little follower. The Mayor begins to lose his balance and falls from the top of the building, screaming. He hits the pavement below, head-first, but still seems to have the sense to cover his shame. After a moment, he falls onto his side. Cut to above, Him looking out one window with the boys looking out another behind him.)
[For this shot, Boomer appears to be missing his clothes, and Butch, his arms.]
Brick: Man, that was pretty evil!
(Cut back to ground level. A crowd has now assembelled around the Mayor. Ms Bellum rushes over.)
Ms Bellum: Mayor? Are you okay?
(The Mayor sits up and blinks, looking round until his eyes fall upon a man eating a banana with a bored expression. Zoom in on the banana.)
Mayor: Banana. (He once again crawls to his desired item) Banana, banana, banana, banana banana, banana, banana, banana!
Ms Bellum: Yep, he's just fine.
(Cut back up to the blimp window where all four occupants look on. The boys' arms appear detached on and off until removed from the blimp. Him draws the boys' attention to himself as he speaks.)
Him: Don't worry, boys, there's more evil where that came fr-oh! (He cuts off as the entire blimp shakes violently, shocking the four occupants. The camera zooms out to show one of Mojo's giant robots holding the blimp in place)
Butch: Wow! A giant fighting robot!
(Zoom in to the eyes of the robot, showing Mojo at the controls)
Mojo: Yes, a giant evil fighting robot created by Mojo Jojo!
(The robot raises its free hand to the blimp, one finger outstretched. This finger acts as a vacuum, pulling the Rowdyruff Boys out of the blimp and into the main control room of the robot.)
Mojo: Now watch this! (The robot holds up a giant pin and after a moment pops the blimp, sending it into the distance with the sound of a deflating balloon. Cut back to the int) And now, observe total evillness. (The robot raises its arms, now cannons, and fires two green missiles into the distance. They land somewhere within the city and cause a large whiteout explosion. Robot int.)
Brick: Wow! That's super evil, dude!
Mojo: Yes, and it's all yours to command.
(The boys exchange looks as they consider this before looking back to Mojo.)
Brick: You mean...we can blow stuff up and stuff? (Mojo nods and hums in affirmative.) Anything?
Mojo: Anything.
(The boys run to the controls, cheering. Suddenly, Brick throws his arms up to stop his brothers.)
Brick: Waaaiiit! (Pointing at a mini-screen, which shows the Mayor crawling along, still sans clothes.) First, let's start with that stupid Mayor!
Cut to the city, where the man being followed by the Mayor is talking on the phone.
Man 4: Anyway, I got this little naked dude following me and it's a bummer.
Mayor: (Running after him) Banana banana banana banana! (He exits OC and just misses being crushed by one of the Robo-Jojo's feet. He continues his chanting under.)
Man 4: Alright, just take it, please! (The Mayor snatches the banana from his outstretched hand and finally stops speaking, instead busying himself with his treat. Behind him, the giant robot approaches.)
Mayor: Banana. (He throws the peel over his shoulder, satisfied, and the foot of the robot comes down over it. It seems not even the giant robot is safe from the comedic powers of the banana peel as it is quickly pitched backwards and unable to save itself from falling with the large cannon arms. It ends up flat on its back, knees bent at an awkward angle and canons broken off. Various parts are giving off sparks and the head dome has a large hole in it. Interior, the boys are on their backs on the floor, Brick and Butch looking pretty peeved while Boomer just looks surprised. Mojo sits beside them, holding his head.)
Mojo: Curses...
Him: (Rising into view) Oh, what's the matter (evil) monkey boy? (Falsetto) Techinical difficulties? (He laughs and the screen is filled with a spiralling red smoke before the scene dissolves to him reclining on a pink cloud, the rather unimpressed Rowdyruff Boys hovering by his feet.) Boys, let's stop monkeying around. It's time I showed you what real evil looks like! (He raises a pan flute and blows into it, making a strange sound similar to that made by a lazer. A flashing multicoloured beam decorated with musical notes streaming out and heading to a building with a sign labelled 'center for cosmic research'. The beam crashes through the wall and passes by several scientists, who are visibly effected by this beam. The man on the end of the line puts down his clipboard and starts walking to another scientist standing by a machine.)
Scientist 1: (Monotone) Doctor Shank.
Scientist 2 (Shank): (Monotone) Yes, Doctor Yust?
Scientist 1 (Yust): Here is the secret code for the CSD. (He holds up a piece of paper that says 'secret code'.) That I am not supposed to give to anybody.
Doctor Shank: You mean the ignition code for the Cosmic Singularity Degenerator (He turns to the machine and starts pushing buttons) Which when activated will cause a fission reaction, Which will send a warp desensitive parabolic gamma ray into the cosmos causing disalignment between the celestial bodies, then of course throwing the Earth out of orbit, sending it hurtling into the sun? (As he says this, a light appears in a nearby machine, which then fires out of the building and reflects off several asteroids before hitting the earth, sending it past Venus and Mercury and towards the sun. Cut back to the research centre.)
Doctor Yust: Yes, that code.
Doctor Shank: Okay, just making sure.
(Cut to a hill Mojo stands on, watching the sun getting closer and closer. The sound of flames is evident and the screen starts to change colour to yellow. Mojo turns as a swirling red cloud appears alongside Him's merry laughter. Him appears onscreen with the Rowdyruff Boys beside him.)
Him: Splendidly evil, isn't it?
Mojo: Evil? How about stupid? Yes, thanks to your foolishness, we will be reduced to nothing! Nothing, like the amount of intelligence inside your head! Nothing, like the amount of respect I get after six seasons on this show! (Him holds up his hand, halting the progress of the sun.) No, you are not the more evil parent, you are the more stupid parent, which makes you unfit to be the father of these boys! (The sun retreats as the Earth returns to its proper place. The boys watch this with smiles, turning to see how Him will react. Cut to the latter, who is now steaming.)
Him: Is not so!
Mojo: Is so!
(Cut back to frame all five. The boys are no longer amused.)
Him: Not so!
Mojo: Is so!
Him: Not so!
Mojo: Is so!
Him: Not so!
Mojo: Is so!
Him: (Evil voice) Not so!
Boys: (Over Mojo's line) Shut up!
Mojo: (Under previous) Is so!
Brick: We don't care which one of you is more eviler or more stupider or whateverer! There's only one evil thing we care about, and that's destroying the Powerpuff Girls!
Boys: Yeah! (They high-five)
Brick: Let's go! (Mojo and Him exchange seemingly worried looks as the boys speed away. Mojo has his hands clasped, Him has his claws together and both are crying liquid pride.)
Mojo: Boy, that's the evilest thing I can imagine!
Him: (Falsetto) Oh, all you can do is raise them the best you know how and hope they turn out how.
Mojo, Him: I'm so proud of them! (They embrace and sniffle)
Narrator: And so, with Mojo and Him finally happy together, (The scene dissolves to an ending screen variant with black and white skulls instead of pink hearts and the Rowdyruff Boys fly into view.) the day is doomed, thanks to the Rowdyruff Boys.
-The End
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Find the Word
I was tagged by @on-noon to find a specific set of words in my WIPs, and tag others to keep the game going. Thank you for the tag, the more times I play this game the more fun I have and the more I enjoy the perspective it gives me on my own writing.
My Words: grow, worse, wind, snow, and wake.
I’ll tag @aohendo, @junypr-camus, @starlightscribe, @did-i-do-this-write, and @marinesocks this time. It's also an open tag for anyone else who wants to join, as always!
Your Words: voice, equal, second, purpose, and greed.
I found grow(s) in an original short story WIP, titled “Kiyo”:
Kiyo herself is pretty small, also like me, but her leaves are strong. They're bright red and her vines are a soft orange, so it's less that she grows like a regular plant and more that she spreads like a flame. She's a little wizened, with some crunchy edges of brown on some of her older leaves and a lot of black in her veins, but her roots keep pushing their way down through the soil. Reaching for water or more soil or whatever it is they find for her. The guy selling all those half-neglected plants hadn't acted like there was anything special about this one in particular, but I haven't heard of plants that look like Kiyo... pretty much anywhere.
I found worse in my novel WIP “To Be Honest”, although it does show up in a scene where there’s (magic-related) self-injury and mentions of blood:
The feeling from earlier is practically screaming at him now, rattling his bones until he thinks the vibration might knock him out. The way David had greeted him. The way his voice has been changing. The fact that Micah hasn't been able to see his face this whole time. The repeated circles when he'd tried to walk. Something is wrong. Micah can feel the magic in his own blood, warning him that if he takes too long to figure this out he'll end up trapped here. Not just here in the woods, but somewhere much worse. He can't control his breathing anymore and every spell he knows is gone from his mind. Alright. Fine. Screw patience, then. The witch takes as deep and steady of a breath as he can manage, wincing each time it catches on the way down to his lungs. Without sparing a second more to think, he brings the knife down on his arm at whatever angle fate decides. If he's lucky, it won't catch any major arteries and he'll be able to bandage himself up later.
I found wind in a draft of a Given oneshot fic “Present Tense”:
He steps toward the water, bracing himself against the wind. It isn't cold, somehow, but he still feels like he should be wearing a jacket of some kind. The sound of the ocean makes it feel like Winter, steady and calm. Rolling like the sand, only stronger. Moving steadily. Making itself known. White noise, washing away the feelings of early afternoon sunlight that had been so vivid just a few moments ago. He finds himself sinking into a crouch, closing his eyes again and holding his knees close to himself. He buries his face into his arms. Ah. He wants to sink into this sound. Let it wash him away, too. Out toward the sunset. The gradually darkening blue and fading light pink of nightfall. The warped yellow and orange of a sun saying its goodbyes for the night. He wants to fall into these soft colors like a fluffy bed and rest.
I found snow in a Sk8 the Infinity fic “True or False”, although it shows up in a scene where Langa is experiencing a type of unreality that might affect some readers:
It's quiet for a while, then Langa adjusts himself so he can speak -- still holding as tight as possible, "Sometimes... I have dreams. They aren't like normal dreams. When I wake up, I can't tell if they were real or not. If I was remembering things that really happened, or dreaming things that never did. It feels like I'm awake and just thinking about real memories, but it also feels like I'm asleep and dreaming. That doesn't make sense, but... the dreams don't make sense. They get... it happened for the first time after I got lost on a mountain as a kid. I was out in the snow all night. I kept thinking that I remembered the way back -- then I'd realize that it was the wrong way. The path I remembered was from a dream. No matter where I walked, it didn't get me home. It got... really confusing. Ever since then, I'll get that way again sometimes. Confused from dreams like that, I mean."
I found wake in my novel WIP “Apricots” when the main character is talking about how long it’s been since his girlfriend died:
Noah doesn't let him get away that easily, "The beginning is the day Jess died, whatever day or month or year it was when that happened. I think you know that much."
"Kade's lost track of time since then, too. More than usual. It feels like he started talking to her ghost months before she died, every time he was at her bedside, like he'd already known it was coming. I guess... when her condition... that's probably why you got mad at me. You knew she would die so much earlier than I did. I still don't think you should have blamed me for not knowing. I did the best I could to take care of her. It's been two months and I still wake up thinking I'll take the bus to her place to... I think I'm still not convinced that she's even gone at all."
Thank you again for the tag – there was a little more original content mixed in with the fanfiction this time! I'm learning to balance how much I write between original and fandom projects, which is encouraging to see when I play this game.
#writing#find the word#sonder stories#sonder snippets#both Apricots & TBH made it this time#also there were no Lingering Scars excerpts#how rare for this game#bonus fact#what Micah does is not how blood magic is supposed to work#it is a crude#dangerous#imprecise#last-ditch method of spellcasting#yes blood witches bleed for their spells#but by getting a few drops at a time#pricking their fingers or similar methods#or by having their blood drawn#by professionals#using actual medical gear#not by slicing their arms open#self injury#blood#unreality#death#a few rough topics get mentioned in these excerpts#fairly lightly I think#but still
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18. Choose a passage from your writing...
For the writers' ask game! You can choose the passage, I don't have any in particular in mind :)
"18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end."
Going to add a "Read More" cut to this one after the passage, as I go off opining. The following is from the flashback in chapter 2 of "Prussian Blue":
Adam stood with his back to her, facing aft, back the way the ship had come. His posture had none of its normal stiffness, his hands hung loose at his sides, his shoulders slouched. Past him, through the viewscreens, she could see what most likely had his attention. The now-distant nova of the Lusitania’s detonated drive unit. A ring and flare of bright yellow-orange, liquified metal refusing to cool in the vacuum of space.
She cleared her throat with a small, stifled cough, “Commander?”
Nothing. No movement or reply.
The observation deck was small, it took only a few steps to reach his side. “Sir?”
Nothing.
A step closer still. He had his head down, she couldn’t see his eyes past the brim of his hat. “...Adam?”
She raised a tentative hand to touch his hat, to move it up just enough to see. His expression was blank, his eyes distant and empty, glassy with unshed tears. In the instant before she meant to move away, she found herself seized. Caught around her middle, one arm pinned, the other grabbed his shoulder by reflex to push him off as he pulled her close –
And froze when she heard him sob.
(Now, as I'm rereading this, I see a couple things I would like to rephrase but ah well. It's done and posted, I can meddle with it later.)
I have had this sequence in my head since... (*checks when Other M came out*) wow, since like 2010. While the cutscene explaining Ian's death felt shoehorned in even then - personally I don't think Samus and Adam needed some arbitrary shared tragedy to divide them, I liked the implication in Fusion that they drifted apart due to ideological differences before his death - something about it was still so compelling to me. I couldn't explain it.
I was writing angst back then too, so not much has changed in that respect. But the way I imagined this sequence just made it stick, and being able to fit it into the Electrochromic AU with the added context I've been developing was extremely satisfying.
The biggest feature of this, the sticky thing that made this cling in my mind for a decade before I was finally able to find a place to put it, is Samus's dialogue. The incremental decrease in formality was so key to this scene; when she goes from worrying about her CO in an attempt at a professional interaction to "oh no my friend is in distress" - going from addressing him by rank to calling him by name (and she does this in canon, as I recall, she calls him by his first name in the cutscene this extends from). While I didn’t describe it, I imagine her voice getting quieter and more uncertain each time.
In the source material, this was probably a matter of convenience, but also to show their familiarity. Realistically, you wouldn’t address your CO this way; if you were being casual you would probably use their surname. But Samus calls him “Adam,” even (and especially) under pressure. As overblown as the original scene is, that connection is significant, and I wanted to keep and highlight it.
Adam’s reaction in this passage is secondary, honestly, but another element that hung around for ages that I had to include. He’s not a physical person, they don’t have that sort of relationship. With the added context that comes later in “Prussian Blue” we know he has actually been extremely careful about Samus’s personal boundaries. He would never touch her without warning or permission unless it was an actual emergency (eg. moving her so she doesn’t get hurt).
Here, he’s so thoroughly in shock he forgets himself entirely and just... needs contact. He probably would have reacted this way to anyone else who came to get him but it’s extra weird for Samus, considering she was primarily socialized by elderly bird people and doesn’t really understand why humans like hugs. Her first instinct is even to push him off before she realizes he’s actively crying.
Earlier versions of this scene may have made this a bit more of a struggle, I don’t really remember, but I didn’t want it to feel combative or... well, “scary,” for lack of a better word. I wanted it to feel sudden, and be shocking, but ultimately benign. Adam isn’t meant to be imposing here; he’s powerless, utterly so, and turning to Samus for support for once, flipping their usual dynamic (in fact, inverting her entire perception of him in this moment).
So... yeah. This whole flashback was important to me but this little scene in particular has been in the works for a very long time. I was happy to finally commit it to word and get it out there. In a way it’s sort of emblematic of why I write fanfic at all; I get these ideas that live in my head for ages - some with startling longevity - and the only way to get them out is to write them down!
Thanks for the ask!
#sable answers#just writer things#Electrochromic#prussian blue#link in post#ask game#i can't express how cathartic writing this scene actually was#it was like a personal exorcism
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First Kill
will never forget or stop mourning that calliope was supposed to have CLOUD HAIR. this was the whole damn believable fixation point of mc girl’s infatuation. i too fall a little bit in love with people who have cloud hair but more importantly an infatuation becomes believable BY its fixation point
i also definitely feel like the absolute menace that emanates from this calliope is palpable lol. and would have been really fun to know its origin of if we’d done the shorty story structure
also all the people who are supposed to be deeply beautiful are still a million times less beautiful than mc girl, because they didn’t let her look actually tired and shit and also because sister and calliope are just....not that (truly some cullen underperformance - they’re supposed to be SHINING) and the wardrobe does NOT help with that. why were they both introduced in bright yellow? now that i think about it, is that supposed to be costuming message?
also sad to see thingie, mc girl, less indoctrinated than in the short story
nice character note that calliope did not like the taste of that alcohol
THIS is supposed to be a closet? it’s the size of a room!
calliope is like - what. you were actually wanting to kiss me??? hahahahaha
the music choice for this scene is pretty insane and also deeply hilarious (h%ntai bo0bies)
nice reversal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ill be honest i love vampire uno reverse
JESUS THIS SCENE JUST KEEPS GOING
this edit makes it seem like we were in the past and like there was sexual tension where there wasn’t which is not good. i cannot distinguish brother from father and that is also not good
i like cal’s part a lot, but it really all is amateurish compared to words isn’t it
the thing i miss from the short story is that there seems to be less emphasis on them BOTH (including white girl mc whose name I STILL cannot remember) going into that closet with the idea they might kill eachother
i guess they couldn’t get it to work - ALMOST staking somebody or ALMOST biting somebody - doesn’t work in images
still can’t believe they reference twilight in the theme song lolololol. although OFC OURSE i know this is ...welll. inspired by the whole the thing
THIS IS A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT STORY??????? they didn’t STOP SHORT OF KILLING EACH OTHER. oh why do writers not realise the gold they possess
so HOW did she get out of that cupboard after having stabbed mc white girl????????? was there a second exit??????????????
HAHAHAHA this DOES go into the inherent hilarity of the completely insane and stupid idea to stab a member of society with NEGATIVE ALIBI
the action in this is shit. is it really so hard?? i feel like you should minimise the audience actually seeing anything if you want it to land. and also better sound effects - the ‘ah’ was louder than the glass shattering
Lettie (??) is like- i almost got murdered by a hunter, buttttt im not gonna tell my fam
funnily enough they kind of UNDERemphasised the analogue with sex of ‘my first’.
cal does NOT point out the vamp. great lil nod to her also-underemphasised feelings.perhaps even uh underwritten feelings.
hold up - they’re now establishing that you DONT have to kill to feed? because Elinor can easily do it - because she has mind powers???? this changes the dynamics and meanigns of everything!!!!!!! lol. why did she even kill anyone? why even kill anyone ever??? it puts a huge twist on the contrast between juliette and her sister. her sister has the best of both worlds! strong, beautiful, running on blood - but able to get away with it everytime and never killing anyone.
theres definitely something significant about dad’s first time story being held back.
and whats the mystery of julliette’s bite not actually showing up on cal?
same happens to elinors bites. this seems to disagree with the necessity of killing. Is Elinor’s weekly bite Freddy? the guy she supposedly first killed?
the soundtrack is often way too loud
what kind of weird fucking exchange. youd expect this swapped. ‘i just wanna talk’ ‘like in the closet?’ ‘that was instinct’ (a blatant lie for cal but true for juliette?) ‘i could say the same’ that should have been cal’s line. she was bit - and so she reacted
juliette is surprisingly calm after running away in emotion and blood tears
‘i said, leave me alone’ she....didn’t say this. the editing really is shoddy
this is a better exchange. should have left the first one out
what....they got caught covered in blood and paralysed on the roof? how did they know they were on there???if they got away??? this is clearly a new day???
hey we have arrived at the playfulness of the end of the short story. the hunt is on. etc.
the way it’s looking now juliette is leading her family straight into the arms of a serious hunter family
very serious upping of the stakes here
if they were gonna play this a romance (which it is supposed to be) then they’ve seriously forgotten the VAMPIRE part of vampire forbidden love - namely the craving to KILL and the extreme restraint necessary to retain humanity and protect the one you love. i am gonna reread the short story because i remember finding calliope’s feelings for juliette much more......believable. while her her desire to prove herself gave the character MEAT
#they undersell any chemistry#theres ONE note on cal being into the vamp she intends to kill before shes making out with her#and even juliettes feelings seem....underpresented#my stuff#vidi#first kill
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Step into the Time Machine: Embracing the Fantasy of 80s and 90s Clothing
Remember the days when fashion was all about neon colours, shoulder pads, and oversized graphic tees? Ah, the 80s and 90s—a time when the UK's fashion scene was an explosion of creativity and bold choices. Let's take a trip down memory lane and dive into the fantastic world of 80s and 90s clothing styles, with a particular focus on an iconic 80s or 90s t-shirt.
The 80s: Neon, Punk, and Power Dressing
The 80s were a decade of extremes, and nowhere was this more evident than in fashion. From the neon brights of New Wave and punk to the power dressing of the corporate world, the 80s offered something for everyone.
Neon Madness: The 80s were all about going bold with fluorescent colours. Think neon pink, electric blue, and highlighter yellow. If your t-shirt didn't scream, "I'm here to party," was it even an 80s t-shirt?
Band Tees and Punk: Music had a massive influence on 80s fashion, and band t-shirts were a staple. The Clash, Duran Duran, and Madonna—wearing their merch was a badge of honour.
Power Suits and Shoulder Pads: For the business crowd, power dressing was in. Picture sharp, oversized blazers with shoulder pads that could double as aeroplane wings. These were often paired with bold, printed t-shirts, making a statement even in the boardroom.
The 90s: Grunge, Hip-Hop, and DIY Cool
As we stepped into the 90s, the fashion landscape continued to evolve, with grunge and hip-hop taking centre stage.
Grunge Flannel: Thanks to bands like Nirvana and Pearl Jam, the grunge look was all the rage. Oversized flannel shirts layered over a 90s t-shirt, became a defining style.
Hip-Hop Swagger: Across the pond, hip-hop culture influenced UK fashion. Baggy jeans, oversized hoodies, and, of course, graphic tees featuring iconic logos like the Nike Swoosh were all the rage.
DIY Cool: The 90s were also a time of DIY fashion. DIY t-shirt designs were everywhere, with teenagers customising their tees with fabric paint, bleach, and markers.
Embracing the Nostalgia Today and Reliving the Fantasy
Fast forward to today, and the nostalgia for 80s and 90s clothing styles is stronger than ever. Vintage shops, online marketplaces, and even major fashion brands are reinterpreting these iconic looks. Finding that perfect 80s or 90s t-shirt to add a touch of nostalgia to your wardrobe is easier than ever.
The fashion of the 80s and 90s in the UK was a whirlwind of colours, styles, and movements. Whether you're a fan of the bold, neon 80s or the grunge and DIY spirit of the 90s, there's something in these decades' clothing styles that resonates with everyone.
So, why not step into the time machine and embrace the fantasy of 80s and 90s fashion in your wardrobe today? It's a fun and nostalgic way to make a style statement that's uniquely you. Visit Vipwees, the best online store to buy these fantasy t-shirts in the UK.
Visit Us, https://vipwees.co.uk/
Original Source, https://bityl.co/LOHH
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Desire Catcher: Episode 1
notes: Spoilers! Master list of all recaps
In this episode: fake zombies, real murder, Chupa Chups, leather jackets and less hypnosis than I expected. Our two leads prove rather shippable.
Lu Fengping is a hypnotist with his own clinic called The Calm Studio which is decorated like the kind of hair salon where the minute you walk in, you know you are about to be charged way too much.
Luo Fei is a cop with the full wardrobe of leather jackets, the sensible haircut, the cool apartment and the spotlessly clean brand new sport ute.
Both men are interested in an unsolved case from 2008- a woman tried to stop an abduction in progress at an abandoned warehouse and was killed. The woman was Lu Fengping's mother and the little girl being abducted was Luo Fei's sister. At least these are my guesses based on the flashbacks we saw in this episode.
Other Characters
Ah, all the stock characters are here: the nerdy friend who is handily a pathologist with a poor understanding of HIPAA, the young lady officer with a bob, the protégé who spouts exposition like a fountain and the caring chief of police who probably has a plot twist or two hidden in his office.
We need to get our boys together!
The episode opens with a "zombie" getting his bite on in a crowded street. He is quickly dispatched by the police. We then time skip to a conference where this case is being discussed by academics and the police.
Luo Fei is bored and falls asleep in his seat. Lu Fengping arrives late and out of breath from riding his bright yellow bike to the venue, Columbo style trench coat fluttering in the wind (so quirky!).
Everyone agrees that hypnosis played a part in the zombie case. Lu Fengping posits that a specific noise was the trigger that set the assailant off (what, not a copy of Catcher in the Rye? I'm disappointed.) Luo Fei leaves when he gets a phone call telling him there has been a murder.
Lush bath bombs claim another victim
Luo Fei arrives at the murder scene- it was staged to look like a suicide. The cops poke around the dead lady's belongings and go interrogate her therapist who is played by Zhao Yunlan's hot silver fox dad from Guardian.
He has alibis which are a little too rehearsed. Seems sus.
Meanwhile back at the conference, we find out that Lu Fengping's mentor is old friends with the chief of police. Introductions are made. Asses are kissed.
The mentor recommends that Lu Fengping help out the police as a consultant.
Later at police HQ the pathologist and Luo Fei are having dinner. Lu Fengping calls Luo Fei offering his assistance with the murder/suicide case. They arrange to meet.
When our two leads finally meet face-to-face, Lu Fengping lays his cards out on the table: he used his mentor to gain access to the police and more specifically Luo Fei.
Why? He wants to trade information about the 2008 case.
Luo Fei does not appreciate being used this way and says nothing.
Lu Fengping neglects to mention a mysterious phone call he received earlier that informed him that new police cases would have clues to the 2008 case.
After dinner we see Lu Fengping brooding in his batcave of clues and Luo Fei brooding in his amazing apartment. Luo Fei receives a phone call from the pathologist who has shocking news- a hallucinogen was found in the murder victim's system. The same hallucinogen that was used in the unsolved 2008 case.
The Good
Reminds me of Under the Skin, which I enjoyed
Love the geometric shots of architecture in the sun. It must mean something- maybe a callback to the original crime scene in 2008?
The Bad
manages to be over lit and dim simultaneously which makes getting screenshots hell
stopped in the middle of the episode to watch Hypnotoad clips and then made this:
Bonus Round
Leather Jacket Count
Just two in this episode, but it’s early days yet.
Master list of all recaps
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A Matter of Time (2/2)
Pairing: Bucky x healer!Reader
Word Count: yikes 7.3k
Warnings: Angst Angst Angst. Mentions of death. Reference to Eternals 👀
A/N: Wow! I'm so happy everyone likes it! I like to get gorgeous with it haha. Hopefully, I'm not overdoing it.
Prompt: Believing they're about to die, Character A confesses their feelings for Character B before they pass out.
Tag list? I guess this is where I would put it? :) - @mischief-siriusly-managed @itsthemaree
@skyewardolicitycloisdelena91
---
You opened your eyes to a black room. No, not a room. There were no walls. You glanced down at your hands. You could still see them, so it wasn’t dark, just… black.
“Well, hello.”
You spun around and saw the source of the voice.
A serene, beautiful woman who had long dark hair and dressed in a green tunic addressed you.
“What has brought you here, young one?”
You took a moment to process your surroundings before you answered.
“I’m not even sure where ‘here’ is. The last I remember is…”
You trailed off, furrowing your brows, and blinking slowly as the memories start to flood back in.
“Ah… Am I dead?”
“Not quite. Though it does look like you are very close.” The woman says, peering to the side.
You followed her gaze and suddenly you were looking upon your own body, wrapped in Bucky’s arms. Startled, you gasp and step back. Looking around, you were back in the mountains by the Quinjet. Nobody seemed to notice you, even though you were right next to… yourself. Bucky was kneeling on the ground, holding your listless body to his chest. You looked away from him to take in your surroundings. Steve was kneeling next to him while the rest of the team was standing. Vision was comforting an anxious Wanda, while Sam and Natasha were getting a stretcher out of the jet. Clint was warming up the engine. Next to him was Tony, who was radioing into the compound’s medical center.
You turned your head back to Steve as he set a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and started speaking.
“Buck. Buck. You have to let her go. We have to get her somewhere where they can help her.”
Bucky only held onto you tighter, tears still dripping onto your face, leaving clear streaks in the blood.
“She’s dead Steve. There’s no pulse. I can’t find a pulse.” His voice hoarse, barely there.
“Friday said there was still brain activity. You know her body’s different, she could still survive. But only if we get her help. Helen’s on her way to meet us at the compound. She’ll be in good hands.” Steve said, gently loosening Bucky’s grip on you. As Nat and Sam came over, he gently lifted you out of Bucky’s arms and set you on the stretcher. They took you back to the jet, Bucky eyes trailing after you, the rest of his body unmoving.
“C’mon Buck. Let’s get going.” Steve said, offering his hand.
Bucky said nothing but accepted his help, hoisting himself up and walking slowly towards the ship with Steve’s arm on his back, guiding his soulless body.
You watched the jet take off before turning back to the woman. She was standing in the same place, watching you curiously.
“What’s happening here?” You asked, shock wearing off and confusion growing ever stronger.
“Well,” She started, clasping her hands together, and pondering the best way to put it.
“I’ve been alive long enough to see many generations of life go by. I have seen the same tragedies, wars, and evils repeat themselves endlessly through history. One thing that never fails to amaze me, though, is the beauty that manages to survive and thrive amongst it.”
Suddenly, you were in a charred landscape. Looking around, you recognized it as one of the first missions you took with Bucky. It was on the coastal countryside of Japan. You were both sent to follow up on a lead for a major weapons dealer. The mission had been simple: find the hideout and report back.
Unfortunately, they must have been tipped off to the fact that you were looking for them and burned their hideout, along with the surrounding plant life. You watched as Bucky and your past-self walked out from behind you. Startled again, you could only watch as the memory played out.
---
“Ah, what a shame. He didn’t have to burn down the trees with him.” You said sorrowfully as you picked up a charred ginkgo branch.
“It looks old. Burned down before we set foot in the country.” Bucky said, assessing the scene.
You stayed silent, putting down the branch and picking up the remnants of a bird’s nest that was underneath. Bucky watched you from several feet back. It took him a while to warm up to people and he had only ever seen you in passing. He knew that your apartment was down the hall from his in the compound but that was it. The only reason you were even on this mission together was that he spoke enough Japanese to get by while you knew the area from visiting previously.
“There’s nothing here. We should go back to the city and check in,” he said, looking around to double check the area before settling his gaze back on you.
You half-heartedly hummed in response, now putting your palm down on the ground. Bucky look at you quizzically as you paused, seemingly focusing on something.
“Some of these tree roots are still alive.” You said, perking up.
You set down the bird’s nest in your other hand before also placing that palm on the ground. Taking a deep breath, you slowly exhaled as a ring of soft light formed around you. You breathed in again, the light becoming brighter. Bucky took a step back and shielded his eyes. You exhaled, sending the ring of white light out from you. It went several meters before dissipating. When Bucky lowered his hand, he saw that several trees that had been scorched were growing back to perfect health. The white bark and bright yellow leaves stood out sharply against the ash and soot. You got up, slightly out of breath, and looked up at the tree in front of you. Slowly, a smile came upon your face. You closed your eyes for moment, taking it in before turning your head towards him.
Just then, the wind picked up and pushed the clouds out from in front of the sun. A ray of light filtered through the trees onto your face and suddenly Bucky was breathless. He watched as your chest rose and fell, the strain outlining your clavicle where a sheen of perspiration had developed. You were still smiling in accomplishment, the irises of your eyes shimmering in the sunlight. Gingko leaves that had been shaken off in the wind floated gently down, some landing on your gleaming hair before sliding off the silky strands.
You watched yourself walk back over to the bird’s nest and bury it in the fresh fallen gingko leaves. After taking a moment to honor the lost life, you stood, brushed the dirt from your knees and continued on. Bucky broke from his trance-like state and cleared his throat before walking in the direction you went in.
---
Seeing something in your peripheral vision, you turned to see the woman crouching to pick up a stray gingko leaf in the ash.
“One thing I’ve noticed amongst the ash,” she said in her light English accent before standing up and twirling the leaf slowly by the stem, “-is you.”
---
Bucky felt as if he was drifting through the actions. The jet was unbearably silent during the never-ending trip back to the compound. At some point Steve had put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder but he didn’t notice until it was gone. Endless possibilities were running through his head and yet he could not focus on a single one. It was agonizing.
When the jet landed, emergency medical staff, as well as Helen, met them on the runway. Helen relayed orders in Korean while her staff whisked her out of Bucky’s sight. He tried to follow after them, but Nat grabbed his arm and slowly shook her head no. When she spoke, her voice sounded more vulnerable than he had expected.
“Let them do their work.”
Bucky swallowed and looked over at Steve. Steve nodded in agreement and Bucky felt his shoulders drop.
“You need some rest, Buck. C’mon.” Steve said, patting him on the back and walking him to his lodging.
When Bucky closed the door behind him, he put his back against it and sank to the floor. He was exhausted. Everything had happened so fast, and he felt it to be overwhelming. He was starting to fixate on the stickiness of the blood and sweat, the exhaustion in his muscles. Taking a deep breath to center himself, he got up and walked to the bathroom, turning on the water to warm it up. He chucked his clothes directly into the washer before stepping under the warm water. He let it wash over him. He closed his eyes and moved so that the stream of water ran over his face.
In the darkness of his own mind, he relived holding you in his arms. Suddenly, the warm water felt like your blood against his skin and he snapped his eyes open, bracing himself with one hand against the wall, the other wiping his face off. He tried to slow down his breathing and counted the breaths, trying not to hyperventilate. Finally, calming down a little, he turned the hot water knob back to its original position, waiting for the water to reach freezing before quickly finishing the shower.
Dressing in a plain tee and sweats, he sat on his bed. No matter how firm the mattress was, he always ended up on the floor. He hadn’t chucked it for two reasons, the first being that he hardly had any possessions. The second reason was that you had come by once with a book you had mentioned.
---
Hearing the soft knock on his door, Bucky was hesitant to answer. The footsteps leading up to the door hadn’t been heavy enough to be Steve. He slowly walked over to the door and cracked the door open. It was you. You met his eyes and then lowered your gaze nervously, adjusting your grip on the book in your hand.
“Bucky? Hey, sorry to drop by unannounced. I just had that second book I was talking about. You finished the first one right?”
“Uh… Yeah I did. Come, on in.” He said, opening the door completely. He palmed through his hair nervously as you walked tentatively in.
“Sorry about the mess.”
“Oh, it’s no problem. Sorry for the intrusion.” You say, glancing around.
Your eyes brushed over the empty apartment. It was furnished with the standard set that it came with. Aside from a set of keys on the counter and a stray plum on the coffee table, there were no signs of life.
“I don’t think you can have a mess if you don’t have stuff to make a mess with.” You said bemused. Behind you Bucky chuckled nervously.
“Haha… Ah. Yeah.”
There was silence before you turned around.
“I’m sorry. This is weird. I should’ve just waited to give you the book at the next mission or something.” You apologized. Yet, you didn’t move.
Bucky backpedaled.
“Oh no, it’s not that. I’m sorry. I just don’t get a lot of… visitors.” He trailed off.
You met his gaze before your lip twitched upwards. A bubble of laughter escaped your mouth before he started chuckling as well. The tension was broken.
“Well, I’ll just leave this here.” You said, starting to leave the book on the coffee table.
“That’s fine. Uh, did you want the first one back?”
“There’s no rush-”
“I don’t mind. It’s just on my shelf.” He pointed down the hall. “I’ll grab it real quick.”
You watched as he walked down the short hall into his room. Still holding the book, you waited a moment before slowly following walking down the hall as well. When you peered into his room, you saw him standing in front of a bookshelf with several rows filled. You took a step inside.
“Ah, so this is where you keep your stuff. You might live here after all.” You joked.
Bucky chuckled as he moved aside to make room next to him for you in front of the shelf. He was still scanning the shelves for your book. You let your gaze drift across the titles, most of which were classics.
“Making up for lost time?” You asked, glancing up at the side of his face.
“Something like that.” He responded, bending down to check a lower shelf before pulling your book off of it.
He handed it to you, and you exchanged it for the new one.
“So,” you said, leaning against the side of his bed, “How did you like it?”
“I liked it.” He responded.
Bucky looked at you and saw your slight head tilt asking for more details. He cleared his throat and thought for a moment.
“Well… There was this one part that reminded me of the time I went with Steve to…” He started, sitting on the bed next to you. You hopped up next to him.
You listened to him as he retold his experience at the world fair. Going back and forth, your conversation flowed smoothly until it had gotten later than either of you had realized. At some point you had convinced him to read the first chapter of the second book.
“No pressure.” You said, flopping back so you were laying down across the bed, holding up your phone to scroll through the news to pass the time.
Bucky started reading the book, overly conscious of the fact that you were waiting on him. When he sent a quick glance your way though, you were nonchalantly scrolling. Eventually, he got absorbed into the chapter. Quite some time passed before he realized he was just reading the rest of the book. When that happened, he looked over at you.
You had dozed off waiting for him. At some point, you had taken your shoes off and grabbed the blanket he used off of the floor where he normally slept. You were curled up on your side, feet tucked away and mouth slightly open. Bucky stared for a few moments before closing the book and looking at his watch.
12:47 AM.
He blinked in surprise. You guys had talked for a while he guessed. Leaning over, he gently nudged you awake.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I got caught up reading. It’s almost 1 AM.”
You hummed groggily in response, rubbing your eye with one hand while pushing yourself up with the other. You squinted at the light of your phone as you checked it.
“It’s totally fine. I’m sorry I fell asleep. I am such a terrible guest.” You chuckled sleepily, standing up from the bed and picking up your shoes.
“Nah, you weren’t so bad.” Bucky joked.
You just smiled at him.
“Well, thanks for having me. I’ll get out of your hair now.” You said, shoes in hand as you walked started walking towards the door to his room.
He got up and followed you to the door. He held it open for you as you stepped out. Turning around you smiled sleepily at him.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” He replied.
He watched as you walked down the hall in your socks. You reached your door and punched in the code to your apartment. Looking down the hall at him, you waved as you opened your door. He waved back and you smiled one more time before you disappeared into your room. Pausing a moment, he looked around to see if anyone saw you leaving his room so late. With nobody around, he was in the clear. He sighed in relief and closed the door, walking back to his room. He noticed the first book that you were supposed to take back sitting on his nightstand. He touched the cover gently, pausing a moment before picking the second book back up, starting right where he left off.
---
Bucky reached over to pull the book you had left off of his shelf. He ran his hands over the indents of the golden lettering in the leather-bound book. Opening it, he looked at the sticky note that you left inside the cover.
Here’s that book I was talking about. First edition. Enjoy! :)
While looking at the crooked smile you had drawn, a knock on his door interrupted his thoughts and he stalled a moment before getting up to answer it. Opening the door, he was met with Steve, freshly showered and holding a bottle of Buck’s favorite whiskey.
“Thought you might want some company.” He said with his classic side grin.
Bucky wordlessly moved from the doorway and let him in. Steve walked past and sat on the couch, setting the whiskey down on the coffee table. Grabbing two glasses from the kitchen, Bucky settled down next to him. Steve poured a healthy portion into one of the glasses, handing one over before sitting back with his own. Swishing the liquid in the glass, Steve breathed in the aroma before sipping on it. Bucky decided on downing the entire drink in one go.
“Woah slow down there, the night is young.” Steve joked.
“C’mon Stevie. You know it doesn’t do a thing.” Bucky said wistfully, examining the empty glass in his hands. “I wish it did.”
Steve scanned his eyes over Bucky’s expression before turning back to his drink. A beat passed as he sipped once more before speaking.
“You care for her.” More of a statement than a question.
Bucky paused before admitting it out loud for the first time.
“… Yeah.”
They sat in silence before Steve sat forward, resting one arm on his knee while using the other to grab the bottle.
“In that case, let’s get you another drink.”
---
The night inched by; The amber liquid slowly drainin from the bottle until the last of it was in their glasses. Wordless, yet comforting. The sky brightened as the first rays of the sun kissed the morning dew, turning the landscape a stunning orange. Steve’s mind wandered as he watched the sky change color. Many a morning, he watched the sun rise on a battlefield as if nothing had disturbed it the day before. It’s what sustained him through sickness, war, and losing Bucky. It sustained him through his sacrifice as he plunged into the sea. It sustained him when he learned that he woke up in a new era, missing his dance with his best girl.
Clearing his throat, he set down his empty glass.
“What’re you going to say when she wakes up?”
“You mean if she wakes up.” Bucky said, his focus still on the drink in his hand.
“You should tell her how you feel. Life is unpredictable, especially in our line of work. I’ve never seen you care so much for anyone, Buck. Not back then, and not since you came back. When she wakes up, and you get this second chance, tell her. She cares about you too. Be with her. Enjoy it. You deserve to be happy.” Steve said, ending his speech quietly as he tried to remember the shade of red Peggy’s lipstick was when he last saw her on that runway.
Bucky glanced at Steve from the side, feeling the regret that had emanated from his voice. He stayed silent a moment longer before nodding his head slightly.
“I will. Thanks Steve.” He replied, laying his hand on Steve’s shoulder.
“Always. ‘Til the end of the line, pal.”
“The end of the line.” Bucky echoed.
Steve’s phone chirped, breaking the solemnity. He reached into his pocket and checked the message on his home screen.
“Helen has an update. C’mon.” Steve said, as he stood up from the couch.
---
“This has been a particularly unique situation.” Helen stated, swiping her tablet screen to look at more information. Bucky and Steve stood in front of her, outside of the room they were keeping you in.
“We ran many tests, including an EEG, which shows massive amounts of brain activity, much more than normal. We also took some blood and saw that the cells are still… alive. We don’t know how since there is no pulse or heartbeat, but they’re still drawing energy from her. I’m not sure how great of an extent the serum has changed her body, but I think there’s still a chance she’ll wake up. Until then, we have her connected to machines that will continue to monitor her brain activity, as well as alert us when there’s a pulse.”
She then opened the room for them to see you. Bucky walked in slowly, taking in the sight of you. You were lying on the bed in a hospital gown. Attached to your head were the wires sensing your brain activity. The monitor above showed one set of waves that were constantly fluctuating. The other set of waves were flat, showing that the wires on your chest were not sensing anything. It was strange how still you were. No tell-tale rise and fall of your chest, no twitching or turning; Completely still. Bucky walked over to the bedside and touched your arm. He was surprised to feel the heat and softness against his fingertips.
“She’s still warm?” He asked without taking his eyes off of you.
“Yes. We can’t explain it.” Helen replied, hugging the clipboard to her chest as she watched him brush a piece of hair tenderly to the side of your face.
Suddenly, the waves on the screen fluctuated, setting off a light dinging. Bucky turned his head quickly to the screen and then back at Helen, alarm etched into his face. Helen walked over to reset the alarm, taking a moment to analyze the situation.
“It seems as if she’s registering your voice, Sergeant Barnes. Perhaps it would be of benefit if you visited and spoke to her often.” She said tactfully while adjusting one more setting on the screen.
Bucky said nothing in return, letting Helen return to the doorway.
“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.” She said, letting a moment pass before exiting the room.
Steve let a moment pass, watching Bucky as he pulled up a chair next to the bed.
“I’m gonna go grab you something to eat.” Steve said as he walked out of the room, closing the door gently behind him, leaving Bucky alone with you.
He sat in silence for a few moments before gently placing his hand atop yours, willing you to move, even just a centimeter, so he knew you were there.
Your body stayed as it was. Devoid of life.
---
“I don’t understand.” You replied to her, confused.
“It is rare enough to find someone with a pure, good heart. Add to that fact, the power that has been bestowed upon you. You have the capability to change to world. To heal it.” The mysterious woman said.
“There is a group of us, a few with similar attributes. We walk amongst the people, generation after generation. We guide humanity forward while protecting it from disasters greater than you could ever imagine. I believe that you could aid us in that work. I just hadn’t expected for us to meet so soon.”
She walked over to you and handed you the leaf she was holding, now turned to metal. You turned it over in your hand, feeling the energy coming off of it.
“I’m… extremely flattered. But there are plenty of other extremely good-hearted people out there. Steve, for example. Why me?”
“Ah, yes. Your friend Steve.” She said thoughtfully, now walking to the middle of the ashen clearing.
“Steve has a good heart. A very honorable man. But he lacks the discernment and the wisdom necessary to use these powers. He sees the world as black and white, when really things are endlessly grey. He lacks… perspective. To be in this role, you must understand that sometimes, you need to let things happen, even the bad ones, to protect the world at a larger scale. You, however, already have some of the power that comes with this role, and have used it in a worthy manner. I’ve seen some of the choices you’ve had to make. I’ve seen how you handle incredibly difficult decisions. Your mind is quick, your wit impressive, your heart pure. But perhaps most importantly of all, you possess the wisdom to use those attributes to help further humanity.”
“I see… but I don’t have all the powers that you seem to have.” You say hesitantly.
“It does not matter. I can bestow upon you the power, and I can show you how to turn this,” she says, gesturing to the few trees that you had revived.
“-into this.”
She raises her hands slowly, golden sigils forming around her arms. A blast of light and pressure made you step back and shield your eyes. The initial pulse over, you look around as the wind blew in a circle, lifting up the fallen gingko leaves into a storm. All of the charred remains of the land started slowly coming back to life. It grew back lush and healthy, returning the area to its natural glory. She waved her hand, causing a part of the ground next to a large boulder to collapse. She gently placed her hand on the rock, emitting more gold sigils before pulling away. As she moved back, water started flowing from where she had touched the rock, filling the ground, and creating a pond at its base.
You look around with wide eyes as you heard sounds of wildlife filling the area. You heard birds fly overhead as you watched a fawn come out from the bushes to take a drink from the pond. As you walked slowly closer, the woman gently placed her hand on the fawn’s back to keep it from getting spooked. Carefully reaching your hand out in offering, the fawn sniffed your hand before allowing you to softly scratch behind its ears. Looking down at the pond, several brightly colored fish swam amongst the lilies.
“You could help me do this and more.” She said, fondly petting the fawn. With her other hand, she manipulated the wind so that it fashioned your hair into a loose bun. She stepped closer to you, taking the metal leaf from your hand, and securing your hair with it. Slowly, you felt new power travel through your veins. You turned to look at her, slowly clenching your hands. As you opened them, water flowed from your palm, slipping through your fingers before falling onto the newly invigorated earth. A golden sigil was etched into your palm, glowing brightly. As you willed the water to stop, it trickled to a stop as the sigil disappeared. It was breathtaking. Eyes filled with wonderment, you looked up at her and met her eye.
“Teach me.”
The woman grinned before turning and walking away. You were about to start following her when you thought you felt something brush across your cheek. A familiar feeling. A whisper you could barely make out echoed through your head.
… still warm…
“Come.” She called behind her.
You snapped out of your daze and started walking again.
---
It’s been a little over a month since you had passed out in Bucky’s arms. At first, he refused to leave your side, even to sleep. Steve had convinced them to bring a cot into the room so Bucky could stop sleeping slumped over the bed in the chair. But after 2 weeks, Steve insisted that he go back to his room to sleep. Take some time for himself. They would let him know if anything happened.
Since then, Bucky had taken some time to reflect. He didn’t want to accept the worst possible outcome, but it seemed to be the only outcome. After the sun had set on the day that marked a month, he laid on his bed and sobbed, first angrily, then despairingly. You weren’t coming back to him.
The next day, he woke up numb. It ended up being the first day he didn’t visit you.
---
“Wow that’s amazing!” You shouted over the wind. You were currently with the woman atop a mountain. She had redirected an avalanche so that it missed the town at its base, and youhad helped.
She smiled. She had shown you several areas that she had helped before. First was a desert oasis that she kept from disappearing, and after that was a jungle in which you stopped a wildfire from killing off the last of an endangered monkey species. She turned and you followed her gaze. Suddenly, you were back at the pond you had started at.
“That was incredible. Thank you.” You said, breathless.
“I would be honored to help you with this work. How do I wake up and find you?”
“You don’t.” She said, her expression falling a bit.
You waited for her to explain.
“I wanted to show you everything you could accomplish before you made your decision. But unfortunately, to sustain this amount of power, you must take on a new form.”
You tilted your head slowly in confusion before you spoke.
“So, I’d have to leave my body for a new one?” You asked slowly.
“Essentially, yes. You would die, so to speak.” The woman said quietly before turning.
As you turned to follow her, you found yourself staring at your body hooked up to multiple machines. The woman walked around to the other side of the bed your body was on. Looking down affectionately at your sleeping form, she spoke:
“Your brain would stop emitting thought, and this form of yours would grow cold and die. But from it, your new form would be born. Ethereal, perfect, immortal.”
You swallowed thickly as you continued to stare at the monitor showing the last signs of life in your body,
“Okay, but would I be able to come back here in this new form?”
She paused thoughtfully.
“Theoretically, you’d have the capability to. But we could not allow it. To be able to walk amongst mortals in history, you must disappear from it first. When all of the lives you’ve touched have passed on, on then is when you may reappear alongside us. Until that time, you train with us in the shadows.”
“Oh.” You said, feeling impossibly small. “That’s… not unreasonable.”
“I wish not to lie to you. Normally, when we find someone we think worthy of this job, someone we want to walk alongside us in our journey, we meet their soul at death. And technically you have died. But a foreign power still lingers inside you. You may return to your old life if you wish. But the offer only stands once.”
“I see.” You said softly.
“I wish it were easier.” She said comfortingly.
“Me too. There were somethings here that I wanted to see through first.”
She gave you a knowing, sad smile.
“I suppose the biggest trial to gain this power is the sacrifice of leaving what you love behind. Yours is just beyond that door.” She said, nodding towards the door to the room.
“What?”
---
Six weeks since you had been gone. Two since he last saw you.
Not that Bucky was trying to keep track. He sat alone on his couch, staring at a blank tv. Nothing was playing. Not that it mattered. A knock on the door came through.
“Hey, Bucky, it’s me, Sam.” He half shouted through the door.
Bucky ignored him.
“I know you’re in there. You haven’t left.”
He groaned internally before responding to him from the couch.
“Did Steve send you? Go away.”
“I will not go away, now open this door.” Sam responded, jiggling the handle.
“No.” Bucky said, making no attempt to move.
“Fine then. But you made me do this.”
Bucky snapped his head towards the door as he heard Sam punch some numbers into the pin pad. It chirped before unlocking, Sam coming through the door.
“Hey, what’s your problem, man? Bucky said, coming face to face with Sam.
“Wasn’t a hard guess. Old people use the same password for everything. Shouldn’t have made it the same as your name on the Pacman machine leaderboard downstairs. You’ve been bumped down to second place by the way, curtesy of moi.” He said with flourish.
“What do you want, Sam?” Bucky asked annoyedly, sitting back down on the couch.
“You know why I’m here man.” He said, shoving his hands into his pockets before continuing:
“You gotta go see her.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s not coming back!” Bucky shouted. He started getting up.
“Everyone keeps telling me to go see her, but she’s gone, Sam. Gone. Just ripped from my arms. And she died for me.She wasted her life on me of all things. I’m not gonna go just to stare at her body and replay the worst moments of my life, over and overagain. I can’t do it anymore.”
Bucky blinked and realized there were tears in his eyes. His face was flushed from shouting and his chest was heaving. Sam let a moment pass before he spoke.
“Look, I’m not here to tell you to keep seeing her so that magically she’ll wake up. I’ll level with you, there’s a chance she might not. If you believe she’s not coming back, I’m not judging you on that. I’m here to tell you that if you think that, you need to say goodbye. Get some closure. Scream, cry, whatever. But afterwards, you’ll feel better. I can’t stand watching you suffer like this, man. I’ve seen people at the VA fall apart and stay that way. I just don’t want you to end up like that.”
Bucky stared at him before letting out a noise that got caught in his throat. His legs felt weak, and he found himself sitting on the couch with his face in his hands, crying.
Sam quietly sat next to him and put his arm around him.
“It’s gonna be okay, Buck. It is.”
---
Some time after Sam had left and he had washed his face, Bucky made his way down the hall to your room. It was late and subsequently quiet. Stopping in front of the door to the room your body was lying in, he took a deep breath and opened the door.
---
You blinked as the door opened and Bucky walked through. He looked tired. His eyes were red and puffy: His facial hair was grown out more than normal. He looked… skinnier? Without taking your eyes off of him, you turned to your teacher.
“How long has it been?”
“Time moves much more quickly in the realm we’re in unless you are interacting with the one you came from. It’s been a little over a month in his time.” She answered.
“A month? Really?”
She nodded as you watched Bucky slowly walk over to the chair next to the bed. You sat on the bed with one leg folded under you, the other swinging off the edge of the bed. The woman did the same, though she kept her legs together, putting her hands together in her lap. You watched as Bucky picked up your hand, enclosing it in both of his own as he sat down. He took a deep breath before he spoke.
“You know, people keep telling me to not give up hope. But they don’t realize what it does to me to see you like this.” He started, voice scratchy and soft. It sounded like the whispers you thought you had been hearing around you while traveling with your teacher, only now that you were right by him, you could hear him clearly.
“I come in here, and I talk to you like they tell me to. I read you the books you lent me out loud. I watch the waves on the screen go nuts when I talk, and I feel that your skin is warm when I touch you. But without you replying, without you touching me back, it feels worse than any torture I’ve endured in my life.”
Tears spilled over onto your cheeks as you listened. The ache in your heart growing ever stronger.
“I wish I had gotten a chance to tell you that you made my life worth living. I was just going through the motions. Trying to make amends, trying to make up for everything I’ve done, and maybe then I’d have some peace. But I never expected to be happy. And now you’re gone. And I feel nothing. It’s worse than before I knew what being happy felt like. I’m not ready to go back. I’m not ready to lose you.”
“Please,” he whispered.
“Come back.”
He bowed his head, letting the tears drop onto the floor, clutching your hand so tightly, it surely would’ve hurt if you could feel it.
Tears still streaming, you turned to look at the woman. Time had slowed to a stop, seconds barely going by. She acknowledged you with a slight nod, letting a moment pass before asking:
“Which choice have you made, young one?”
You smiled, wiping the tears from your eyes one side at a time.
“I’m going to make the wrong decision. The selfish decision. I want to stay.” You said, happiness overflowing in your voice as more tears slip down your face.
“There is no wrong decision.” She said, placing your hand on your shoulder. Bowing her head lightly, she looked you in the eyes.
“Are you ready to go back?”
“Yes, thank you, uhm…”
“Sersi,”
“Sersi.” You repeated.
“Thank you for everything. This has been an incredible experience. I’ll remember this for the rest of my life.”
She smiled knowingly.
“When you need me, you’ll know where to find me.” She said, plucking the gingko leave out of your hair. Your hair fell out around your face as a white light grew ever brighter, soon blinding your vision.
---
Bucky raised his head at the sound of a foreign beeping in the room. Locating the source of the sound, he focused in on the red flashing on the screen.
Pulse 72
Pulse 72?
Pulse 72.
Bucky scrambled to press his fingers against your wrist. There it was.
Suddenly, your chest rose. He heard you take in an impossibly deep breath in and back out. He was stunned. While he was staring in disbelief, you turned your head slightly before opening your eyes.
“Bucky?”
He couldn’t do anything but hold you to him.
“Woah there, did you miss me?” You teased.
“Yes. So much.”
You pulled away from him and tilted your head, confused.
“Do I even want to know how long I was out?” You asked, ripping the stickies off of your head.
“Six weeks.”
“Six weeks!?”
“Do you remember anything that happened?” He asked, soaking in your voice.
“The last thing I remember is… the mountains.”
Bucky sat in silence a moment before he grabbed your hand.
“When you were gone, it made my life feel like it was over. I couldn’t stand it. It felt like I had nothing, all over again. You and I have grown really close and I just wanted you to hear all of that now that I have a second chance. I want to be by your side, through thick and thin, if you’ll have me.” He asked, gripping your hand tighter.
You stared into his eyes, the light reflecting the frosty color of his irises brilliantly. You leaned over to kiss him, and he met you halfway. Light and chaste, you pull back and rest your forehead on his.
“Of course I will, Buck. Always.”
---6 Months Later---
You trekked through the tall grass, smelling the coast and nearby sea.
“Just a little farther.” You called back to Bucky.
“I feel like you’ve said that several times now.” He joked, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun and the bite of the wind.
You turned around, stopping in your tracks.
“Haha, very funny. But seriously, I think it’s at top of this cliff,” you said, peering up at the ledge several feet above you.
He caught up to where you were, placing a quick kiss to your nose before bracing his back against the wall and interlocking his hands.
“C’mon, I’ll give you a boost.”
You stepped into his hand and jumped up, using the extra momentum to catch the edge. Pulling yourself up, you turned around, stomach to the ground, extending your hand to him. He grunted as he climbed partway up, grabbing your hand when the soil turned sandy halfway, leaving no holds for him to grab onto.
Pulling him up, you both sit for a moment, catching your breath and taking in the view.
“So,” he started. “Is it anything like you remembered?”
“Yeah. I think. It’s kind of hazy. But I think I dreamed about this place a lot while I was out. I felt like it was an itch that I couldn’t scratch unless I came here to check it out for myself.” You said, resting back onto your hands.
“Well, let’s scratch your itch.”
Bucky got up and dusted his pants off before offering you his hand. You accepted and pulled yourself up, steadying yourself before walking through the trees into the coming clearing.
When you reached it, it felt eerily familiar. The arrangement of the trees, the water running into the pond, even the arrangement of the moss. It was like peering at your dream through a pair of glasses; It was much clearer now.
“Wow. This place has really recovered since the last time we’ve been here,” Bucky said as he watched the gingko leaves fall around him.
You walked over to the pond and crouched, washing the fish swim between the lilies. You had a nagging feeling that something else was missing from the scene. You eyed a glint in the water while responding back to him.
“Yeah, it has. I think this is how it looked in my dream.”
Bucky walked over to you, and you looked up at him lovingly. Standing up, you wrap your arms around his neck.
“I’m sorry I dragged you to the other side of the globe just to come here.”
“Hey hey hey, it’s alright,” he said, putting his hands on your waist. “Who says we won’t be touring other parts of Japan while we’re here? Besides, this is where we had our first mission. It’s like coming back to a first date spot.” He said with a grin.
You couldn’t help but smile.
“I love you.”
He blinked, before smiling wider.
“I love you too.” He replied, wrapping his arms around you to pull you close to him, kissing you deeply.
---
From further up in the air, Sersi watched from the concealed airship, a man walking up to join her at the window.
“Still think she made the right decision?” He said, holding his hands behind his back.
“Come now, Ikaris. If I had had you before this life, would you be happy at the thought of me giving you up?”
“Of course not. But you didn’t have me before, you have me now.”
“Yes, yes.” She said, smiling as she brushed him off.
“Besides,” she continued. “I don’t think I could’ve offered her anything else. Once I saw how she looked at him, I knew it was only a matter of time.”
Smiling wistfully, she flicked her finger, sending a breeze through the landing where you were.
---
The ginkgo leaves fluttered onto your faces, making you both laugh as you separated to brush them off.
“Come on,” you said, grabbing his hand and leading the way. “Let’s go see the coast.”
He smiled, looking at you with adoration, and followed you out from the clearing to wherever you would walk from then on. A ray of light shined through the trees onto the pond, the glint of the golden ginkgo leaf sparkling out from under the rocks at the bottom.
#kas9kwc#Bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes angst#bucky x y/n#bucky imagine
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WARNINGS : N!SFW 18+ AGED UP AU! SOME SCENES MAY CONTAIN GRAPHIC CONTENT, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YANDERE THEMES GIF MADE BY ME
It started out with a package.
Roses really, neatly tucked away in plastic and a glass vase that nestled into loud styrofoam.
Or at least that's when you started to notice it.
Actually it started with a phone call didn't it?
Just a few days ago the old rotary phone, the one you bought for nostalgia, rang. This in itself was not odd, you picked up the aged yellow receiver and pressed the cool plastic to your ear.
But you did not speak, waiting patiently for the other line to come to life. After a few moments of silence you figure it to be a telemarketer, the automated type that doesn't start its spiel until it hears a tone, a voice. So you hang up.
The random call lost to both time and thought.
But you cannot forget this package that acted as a catalyst, to what you were not sure.
You just knew it was something.
The white box with the flower company's name on the side of the cardboard sat on your concrete steps, just past the waist high fence. You were returning from a run, huffing as you bent over, you figured it was most likely for your neighbor but it had your address. The recipient's name had been worn off from the poor handling of the package, you had figured the contents to be broken. Despite the state of the box the roses were perfectly intact. Crystal vase sparkling even through the opaque wrapping, a note on top that read.
I'll love you always.
Ah so this was not for you. You scoff, this was meant for your neighbor as you first originally thought. It made more sense that way. What with his boyfriend being long distance, it was obvious. He most likely remembered his address wrong and put yours in error. As you're haphazardly closing the box, keeping the note in hand, your neighbor waltz from his door.
"Ah, um Denki-kun" You call, a bright smile beams on his face as he makes his way to meet you at your shared fence.
"Love!" He greets, strong hand giving your bicep a soft squeeze, "Ah flowers? Spill!"
"Well they aren't mine. I...I think they're yours. Here." You shove the box and note into his hands, stupid tears trying to prick your eyes.
Why? You were unsure.
Maybe you were a bit jealous. Thinking back you couldn't remember the last time you had even had a flirtatious comment or cat call sent your way. You lived a normal quiet life with your "abnormality". Quirkless. You worked from home, spoke to a select few and hardly left your house. It contributed to your wait gain thus adding to your small list of places to go.
The grocery store.
And the gym Denki invited you to or around the block for a run.
After a gurgling amount of time you finally achieved your dream body. Now all that was left was to maintain it.
"Wait!" Denki calls, "This isn't my boyfriend's handwriting."
Furrowing your brows, hand on the handle the answer comes to you.
"Probably just one of those fonts meant to look like handwriting."
"No, come look. It was made with a ballpoint pen." Nothing escapes his pro hero trained eye, his finger slides beneath the words, "He seems passionate! Lucky duck look at how deep love is."
He passes the card to you, giving you a wink as he passes the white box. Sure enough there are divots in the card stock, love is the deepest. Deep enough it almost ripped through the thick paper. You swallow thickly racking your brain, your job requires you to have answers to every question. Logical answers. So it's no surprise your mind wanders until it comes up with something. Your eyes shift to the right, you were lucky enough for your little house to be on the corner of the block.
The delicate roses must have been intended for your neighbor diagonal from you. You wait until Denki is halfway down the block before you rush across the quiet street to set the flowers up neatly on the porch. Throwing the box and wrapping into the trash before you speed walk into the safety of your sanctuary.
Your cats prance to the door to greet you and then sprint to the kitchen to be fed. As if you hadn't just fed them before your run a little less than an hour ago.
The rest of your night is uneventful. You curl on the couch, nestled deep within an old cardigan and the comfort of your leggings with a pile of work to be analyzed. To find the devil in the details and solve what seemed unsolvable.
The answers were always there, under your nose. Found easily by your trained eye but how could you not see the obvious answers when you had the luxury of a bird's eye view. The luxury of knowing the whole story from the shakey beginning to the bitter end.
A luxury you would not have for your own story.
The shrill ring cuts through the comfortable silence causing you to jump from your skin, the cats perk their heads up lazily to see what disturbed them before tucking their head back down.
You tell yourself it's a wrong number, a telemarketer but curiosity is beginning to get the better of you.
And curiosity is a deadly, loud thing. Louder than reason. Reason you had learned from the safety of your home, from other people's mistakes. The same very mistakes that sit on your lap with harsh red ink labeling them
C L A S S I F I E D.
It rings a fourth time as you stand, the bell calling out for your attention, demanding you speak. You lift the receiver, again there is silence on the other end.
You wait patiently, is this another automated telemarketer? Had you entered your real number by mistake for one of those stupid store discounts?
You must have, still you resist the urge to tap the speaker of the phone to see if it would trigger the recording.
Instead you drop the receiver onto the base, rattling the hidden bell.
And that was that, you return to your work. Pouring over the details to find the pattern, to build a psychological profile to avoid a tragedy in the future.
Ironic how you cannot prevent your own.
It isn't until a few weeks later does the first letter find its way into your mailbox.
It seemed harmless enough you thought it to be an accident, just neatly looped words proclaiming their love. But it was never fully addressed to you and when you tried to pass it off to Denki, again he denied that the letter belonged to him.
Still, those looping letters twist into your memory, coming to the forefront of your mind every now and again. As if the paper that lies on your dining room table reads itself aloud, from beginning to end at the top of every hour.
As if the ink doesn't want you to forget.
"I am not sure when it started, but it did. I had fallen for you despite my efforts not to. A half of a year I've told myself to forget it, to forget you. And yet I cannot bring myself to stop, the more I try the more you come to mind. And the more I find myself near you. It's as if you're a bad drug I can't quit. I've been watching you. Everything you do is done in such cautious beauty. Please answer next time my dear."
Silence for weeks after that, at least as far as the rotary phone and the mailbox were concerned. You would occasionally get a text from an unknown number.
A transposed number, an error on the sender's end. Or so you assured yourself, especially when they would seem a bit too coincidental. When you were out for a jog or out at the gym at a different time than usual a text would come through.
For a second your mouth would go dry, your blood ice cold as you read the black letters atop the white screen. Huffing as your lack of breath came from a psychological response as opposed to your physical running.
Why aren't you home?
See you soon?
But these couldn't be intended for you. How could they? You could list the people you knew outside of your family and work place on one hand.
Denki.
And only because he spoke to you first!
So these texts, these little messages laced with concern could have been for an estranged spouse, a forgetful spouse or some partner who lacked the ability to properly communicate.
You just knew they weren't for you.
Or so your new mantra goes.
Paranoia didn't begin to sink it's sharp teeth into you until you noticed your cats' odd behavior.
In an immeasurable amount of time they went from lazy, happy go lucky animals to hostile even aggressive creatures. As if they were suddenly feral.
Oddly enough they only acted this way during certain times, mainly at night. Their moon eyes saw things you could not, their enhanced hearing heard things you could not, things you labeled, rat or mouse.
Would a mouse or rat cause a cat to hiss at shrouded corners? To claw at the wall with a howl that sounded more like a scream? Would it make them avoid the closet door in your room?
Maybe it was bigger? The floorboards above did groan more often than not lately. Maybe it was a raccoon even.
Yes, that had to be the cause of their behavior.
And yet there was still that one time, that one instance you sometimes dream about waking in a cold sweet.
The thing you cannot explain away, nor label as mouse, rat, not even a raccoon.
A cocktail of a tired mind and a trick of the eye but simply not vermin.
It was overcast, a sickly grey as the day wept deep into the night. The weather, naturally, caused you to melt into the plush material of your couch as you consumed comfort movie after comfort movie. You were given a reprieve from your worry as your cats seemed normal, sleepy just as you were that day. Even Nyx chose to laze on your chest as a temporary throne. Your couch is flush against the arch way that leads into the dining room and kitchen, giving it's back to part of the hallway towards the main bathroom and your bedroom at the back.
This angle always caused you great anxiety but there was no other way your luxury couch could fit in the small living room and so you always sunk low into the cushions.
Suddenly Nyx's ears twitch and her eyes snap open, waking only a cat knows how. On high alert to a sound totally lost to your draft ear. Her eyes widen, pupils dilating to adjust better to the shadowed room. The glow of the TV casts such a glow on the objects around you, flicker in soft and harsh lights. Slowly Nyx cranes her neck to see what exactly disturbed her sleep, just as her eyes lock on whatever is behind you, you see it for just a fraction of a second.
In the reflection of those moon eyes you see it. Distorted only from the curvature of her lens and the grain of the TV but there is no denying its shape.
A crude outline of a man, broad shouldered and faceless in the dark.
You freeze, mirroring your cat. Breath held as you watch the figure in the pitch black pupil. Wishing, hoping and praying that what you see is not really there.
After an eon of a moment, Nyx begins to shrink in on herself before silently slinking from the couch to find shelter beneath it.
You are not brave enough to move, to crane your head just as your cat did before you to confirm if what you saw was real. And in the milliseconds that the TV goes black you avoid the corner the figure should be standing in. Goose flesh breaks out over your skin, making you feel vulnerable and cold. While your feet burn begging you to get up.
To run.
After a lot of mental reassurance and silence you begin to settle down. Easing yourself back into the rational world. Even becoming brave enough to stare into the TV, into the corner where the figure should be reflected in.
Each passing second as you wait for that small moment of blackness sends your heart into an irrational pace. Finally it happens and when you see nothing you sigh with relief.
Mentally giving yourself an "I told you it was nothing." talk.
That is until you hear a sound, a thump and a click from the back bedroom.
Your bedroom.
But the sound seems as if it came from within, as if it were your closet door.
Your heart explodes into frantic erratic beating.
The shrill ring of the old rotary phone rips through the dialogue of the movie but it can be barely heard over the hum of your blood.
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING
BRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIING
Tonight you are frozen in place, whether that be from petrifying fear or sheer stubborn denial you cannot say. You just know one thing. You do not want to deal with the automated telemarketer who never seems to speak.
It rings four more times before it stops.
You chalk it up to coincidence. To nothing.
Late evening turns into late night and sooner rather than later you find yourself in the mouth of the hallway. Staring down your bedroom door as your mind plays on repeat the sound of a door closing from earlier that night.
You cannot let the boogie man keep you from sleep. Slowly you enter, flicking on all the lights.
Everything seems to be in place, the small pile of laundry still lies abandoned by your hamper, your bed neatly made, pillows haphazardly lying about the comforter. Hell even your inherited diamond drop necklace still sits snugly in the jewelry dish on your night stand.
The townhouse makes an odd sound, you jump out of your skin. Clutching your phone so hard the lock and volume buttons imprint into your palms.
No longer can you ignore the elephant in the room as the silence from this particular space screams at deafening volumes until you dare to look. Your eyes flicker to your left and there it is.
Your closet door, seeming to yawn and stretch even in the harsh hue of the overhead light. A closet is always an ominous, odd place and the sounds it may or may not have made cause a great twisting in your stomach. The shine of the knob calls to you with deadly wonder. Begging you to turn the gleaming metal to reveal the darkness behind the bland white door.
It should be inspected shouldn't it? If you ever wanted to sleep soundly you would need to reveal what may lurk in the dark.
Creeping towards the door with baited breath until finally your hand hovers over the knob.
"Open me." It seems to whisper in delighted glee, elated to see your stressed, scared features distort in its polished brass. You retract your fingers as if burned, biting onto your lip as you scrape your large armchair against the wood. Shoving it into place against the closet door.
You sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the door until your eyes burn. You turn off the overhead light but keep the soft light of your nightstand lamp on.
You dream fever dreams of flashing lights as a storm passes overhead. Dream of the closet door laughing in the night, of cool fingers pressed into your skin.
Jolting awake you reach for your phone as your senses slowly come to you. Your eyes fly to the armchair in the mid morning light. It rests in the same spot you left it ominously staring at your bed.
Something seems off about it or maybe you just imagine that there is a deep divot in the cushion, as if someone or something sat in the armchair most of the night.
You close your eyes and go over rational explanations. Always bringing back to yourself the same question.
Who in the world would want you?
Bringing you back full circle, that you were getting ahead of yourself. The cart before the horse in a sense and letting your mind race without restraint.
Letting the season of Fall try to creep into your bones and cause an artificial fear.
Still it's not too long after that do the cats avoid your room altogether.
While you choose to do what you've always done, push the problem aside and explain it away.
The phone rings as you're lacing up your running shoes. You pick up the receiver without bringing it to your ear and place it down gently.
It's just a wrong number anyway.
Tonight air bites at your nose, leaves crunching underfoot as wind whips around buildings and trash, carrying with it the promise of a harsh winter to come.
Your feet carry you slowly back to the direction of home as they beat down your normal, safe route.
A right from your little townhome, straight for two blocks before you would find the winding black pavement. It would snake past the backs of homes through some small trees but never a path that was fully hidden.
Always out in the open but giving you the ability to peer into people's lives as you passed. Witnessing dinners, arguments and heated moments of passion. Silently you thanked Kami you were not positioned on this route.
You keep your eyes focused ahead, the music in your ears low to listen for possible passers such as a bike or a better runner than yourself.
You pass a tree that seems thicker than normal, your phone buzzes on your arm band.
An email, it has to be an email.
Yet your mind wanders to those worried texts, lingers on the thoughts of if that tree had always been that wide, if the quickly setting sun had always cast the path in blood red. The maroon leaves flutter overhead, falling to the ground.
More crunching than what you think your feet should produce has you running faster. Forcing yourself not to glance over your shoulder. Your breathing becomes rasped as you borderline sprint home, still the crunching comes closer.
It isn't until someone brushes your shoulder as they pass do you let out a blood curdling scream. Huffing to catch your breath as you take a step back. The jogger, your neighbor from across the street that you occasionally run into, removes his earbud.
"You okay?" He addresses you by your name and suddenly you're embarrassed that you do not know his. He takes your silence as an answer, his brow furrowing.
"I thought you'd be less skittish since your new boyfriend's been coming around." Your mouth goes dry.
"Wh...what?"
"Yea he seems so sweet. He always checks the windows to make sure they are locked at night." He takes in your response and shrugs, "It's getting late. Since I didn't see your boyfriend there yet, I'll jog you home."
The jog home is agonizing,your mind racing far faster than your feet can go.
What did he mean he saw him checking the windows? What boyfriend?
Maybe, maybe he mixed up your house with Denki's again. It's happened once before when he was returning mail. So there was a good chance he was mistaken again.
Still the closer the two of you get to home the worse you feel. A brick sits in your stomach as he jogs in place before your fence. He gives you a knowing smile and a wink as you wave him goodbye.
It isn't until you turn to face your home do you notice it, the white rectangle stark against your black door.
There is an envelope taped to the thick oak, addressed to no one but "My beloved".
You rip it from the wood with ragged breath as you bring it inside. Already you can feel the contents squirming, fidgeting as it waits to be read.
Polaroid photos fall to the hardwood floors, pictures of you running down your favorite path. Blurred images of you walking down the aisles of the grocery store, and even a photo of you taken between the cracks of the fence in your front yard.
There are no more photos after that, at least not this time. Just that fucking letter written in long looping ink You feel the words tighten around your throat as horror wraps its spindly fingers around your guts and yanks them towards the floor.
Your knees threaten to buckle as your eyes rapidly move along the page.
"In these moments you are the most beautiful. Blissfully unaware of prying eyes. In my time I've come to care for you I've noticed I'm not the only one watching. People gaze at you with whispered murmurs, with pitying eyes as they spin tales of your life. Speculating gossip as you prance about the neighborhood. Flaunting in those tight running shorts that hold every godly curve of your thighs and ass. Of the light jacket you leave unzipped so they can get a better view of your bouncing breasts tucked in your black sports bra. I wonder, would they bounce like that when you ride on my cock? Would your hair stick to your forehead like that as I rail you from behind. Would that angelic voice squeak out for more? For me? Ah I'm salivating thinking of it, harder than I've ever been. Please do not wear those out while running. In fact you don't have to run anymore Doll. You just need to let me take care of you God damn it. You little fucking whore. You seductive vixen with your God damned doe eyes. Just...just fucking answer please."
Rage and fear fight for control as you reread the letter for the fourth, fifth time before you finally move. Rage, for once, wins. You slam the door behind you locking the deadbolt before running to the back bedroom. Throwing the heavy chair from the closet door and ripping it open.
Nothing lies within it, just clothes that begin to smell of neglect. Of old running shoes you didn't have the heart to throw away.
Of relief that whoever was sending these letters, these ones that weren't meant for you. Wasn't currently in the house.
The floorboards overhead groan and for a moment you have half a mind to tuck your cats away into their carrier, buy a one way train ticket to bumfuck nowhere and set your house ablaze.
Instead you move the chair back in front of the closet, grabbing things from your back bedroom to start your new life on your couch.
Time passes as the trees become more bare, their spindly fingers reaching out to tap the roof at odd hours of the night.
Tomorrow you promised yourself you would run.
And yet you find yourself dressed, lacing up your shoes before slowly opening the door. Your jacket is zipped all the way up, your hair neatly tied back and just as you step foot out the front door a heavy wind rips through the yard causing Denki's unlatched gate to slam. You jump back startled as your fear clings to you like a second skin. The letter begins to overlap in your head and the polaroid photos you had trashed a few weeks ago burn into your retinas. A faint snap and a whirl comes from close by and suddenly your stomach churns. Bile rushes up your windpipe too quickly, slamming the door shut and running to the bathroom. You barely make it as you dry heave into the porcelain bowl, huffing in the air of fresh toilet water. The smell starts a vicious cycle of nausea until finally your clammy skin begins to cool, pressing yourself to the side of the tub. In your panic your skin becomes sensitive, hyper aware of each stitch in your jacket, your sports bra and your jogging leggings. Your rip at your clothes until you peel them off of you, huffing as you scramble to get into the shower.
It does not matter that the water is not yet hot. Hell it isn't even lukewarm still you find yourself in the stream as it becomes scalding. Scrubbing at your skin with soap over and over and over. Nails pulling away already raw skin until that burning water begins to cool. A floorboard creaks overhead causing your head to snap up. The ceiling holds no secrets and yet no answers until you see it. A small hole, one you aren't sure if it's always been there, gaping from the attic over your shower and bath. It's too dark to tell if there is someone peering down at you from above or not.
Instead of freaking out your head slowly tilts away from the haunting discovery. Turning off the water, opening the curtain and wrapping yourself in a towel. As if it were every day you see something like that, as if it were nothing more than a spider lingering that you'd wish to forget.
It's fine
It's always been there
But that would be the last time you would take a shower in that house.
Even though you hardly left your couch, things would still go missing in yourself. Things like the remote or one of your hundreds of phone charger cords. Even documents to cases but you didn't care, couldn't care. Otherwise you would break. Shatter.
Your days consisted of lying on the couch and consuming an ungodly amount of television. Doing so until your eyes burned although you begged them to stay open. Sadly everyone needed sleep and so you did. Giving into exhaustion as your eyes fluttered closed and your body weak, relaxing into the comfort of the couch.
Hours are lost to you so you dream and dream. Of a better time or of yourself in one of your files to dissect. Giving yourself that perfect bird's eye view and wondering how the victim never saw it coming.
In your dream you feel something along your face, smooth fingertips trace down your cheek over and over at a lulling pace.
"So perfect." A whispered serenade melding in with a snap and a whirl. A flash of lightning from a passing storm.
Except there was no storm coming in.
Your eyes snap open as you jerk to a sitting position frantically looking around the room. When your eyes find nothing you allow your beating heart to settle back into your numbed state, more than ready to melt into the couch.
Until your stomach growls forcing you to focus on a new problem.
When was the last time you ate? Your stomach had long forgotten about food, choosing to conserve energy in case you needed to run from whatever the hell it was in your head.
Forgoing dressing you place your hand on the knob, wallet in hand. Two sets of glowing eyes watch you from beneath the couch. Twisting the metal to yank the door open you are greeted with cold fall air. The wind whips hair into your face as your mind quickly wanders. You half imagined a man to be standing in the middle of the street. Mouth stretched too far over gleaming teeth, lips parting enough as the wind brings with it the sound of your name.
Frantically you move your hair from your face, eyes searching up and down the street to find no one, nothing.
As it should be at 10am on a weekday. Suddenly the weight of going outside sits on your shoulders, despite the convenience store being a ten minute walk both ways, the thought of you going alone scared you. Slowly you shut the door, falling to your knees before lying face down on your floor openly sobbing.
A creaking board sends you back to high alert, you remove your jacket and decide to order take out instead.
The knocking at your front door jolts you awake, the TV drones in the background with hazed over words as you quickly come to. Heart slamming into your chest before your stomach growls loudly. Right, food.
Your hand hovers over the knob as if suddenly you cannot move, as if the person on the other side of the door is an imposter lying in wait. Another knock comes at the door, he announces who he works for which eases your phobia a bit. You swallow thickly before finally opening the door, hands sweating as the anticipation of the identity of the stranger on your porch.
He seems to check out, his outfit covered in logos for your takeout restaurant of choice, car labeled as such as well. He holds the receipt towards you. His eyes wander over the face of the house, giving you sudden chills.
The question falls from your numb lips.
"D...do you see anyone in the windows?" The delivery guy visibly jarrs, eyes darting to the windows of your room and the living room. Suddenly his face changes as a knowing smile spreads on his lips.
"This is a prank isn't it? For Halloween right?" He chuckles, but when he sees the pen shaking in your grip his face goes stone cold. Eyes darting to your left, to the bedroom windows. He taps the paper, indicating where you need to sign, you take a moment to do so.
The old rotary phone screams from the living room, making you both jump.
"Guess I better get that." You gesture, grabbing for your food. He nods affirmation before stepping off of your small porch a little too quickly.
You slam the front door, appetite washed away by each shrill of the small bell. Hesitantly you reach for it, you have to know, need to know who could be on the other side.
The receiver is cold against your ear, the other line is quiet, although you can hear something soft in the background.
Talking, it sounds familiar, like an echo or almost as if there is a delay. It almost sounds like the same commercial that's playing on your TV right now.
Gently you set the phone down, the soft click echoes in the space around you. You sit on the couch before lying, covering yourself in your blanket as your takeout sits by the door, forgotten.
It wouldn't be too long before it begins to rot, almost as quickly as you.
The phone rings
And rings
And rings.
Nightly in fact, for the next few weeks as you cry silently trying to ignore the sound. Turning up the TV as loud as it can go, 24/7 until finally the speakers blow and you are left with nothing but that shrill shriek. The demand of the small plastic item that was meant to bring to a comforting memory from the past comes more often. Every four hours, every three hours, every hour until finally when it comes to an end it breathes again.
Screaming into the night tearing away your hearing, your sanity until finally you get up from your spot on the couch. Clothes falling away from your frame as they had grown in the time you sat. The time that you watched.
Each step is agonizing as sobs rack through your body, shaking hands making it hard to reach for the cool receiver.
You press it to your ear and for a final time your mind attempts logic. It is just an automated telemarketer, a glitch or determined program but the thought crumbles as your ears strain to hear the soft breath on the other line.
"Please…please stop." You sob into the receiver when no one speaks. The silence deafening as your mind can no longer keep with the charade.
That everything is okay and has always been okay. That the red flags you studied for a living were never there, washed away by your feigned ignorance.
"Finally got a response out of you." A velvet voice chimes, agitation lacing his syllables, "Gods, I just cannot wait to have you. It was worth it you know? Living in your walls for months."
"Why are you doing this?" Your voice barely a whisper, a soggy huff more than anything.
"I'm glad you asked." You body goes rigid, a haze blankets your mind and smothers the scream tearing up your throat.
"Now walk out the door to me. Don't worry I'll bring your cats back to our home later."
You hang up the phone, body moving on it's own as you walk towards the front door. A door you had chosen to avoid and for good reason. But you should have known the danger lied within these four walls. Although your body feels heavy it moves normally despite you trying to fight it. Or as best you can with your worn down mind.and will. It is not as joyous as a moment for you and it is for the man in the street. His lilac hair is illuminated in the moonlight while his amethyst eyes glow iridescent. His smile is as you imagined, twisted and screwed up in such a way it makes your stomach churn. Lips stretched out almost too far over gleaming white teeth. Your face does not reflect your horror as it stays neutral, only your eyes give you way as tears fall from your cheeks.
The answer was there, under your nose, the devil in the details that you normally saw with your bird's eye view. One you didn't have the luxury of for your own story.
"Come now pet. It's time I finally teach you about what it means to be mine."
EPILOGUE
Everything is hazed over and slow, as if watching an old silent movie through the static and snow of the screen. Trying to read their lips to figure out what they are saying only for the text box to come too late.
"Perfect. Now get on your knees kitten. Open wide." You follow his orders numbly body moving on it's own as he smiles down at you. "God, you're so so perfect."
Long fingers tug at his belt before the shrill of a ring tone cuts through the silence. It is the same sound of your rotary phone at home except with an added element. The foreign sound of your whimpers and pleads for the phone to stop can just barely be heard.
He looks down at the cell phone and answers.
"Denki, Baby I know I said I would come tonight. I'm just running late okay?" Amethyst eyes rove over to you and it is then that it hits you. The horror of the realization is like ice water dumped over you as you put two and two together.
The first time you saw him, visiting your neighbor over a year ago. It was such a quick exchange, eye contact and nothing more as his lips were pressed to Denki's.
Your mouth goes dry as it hangs open, slowly it becomes uncomfortable.
He changes his voice to sound like someone else's, someone with a gruff deeper tone.
"Oi quit talking to dunce face so we can finish this shit!" He removed the device from his mouth
"I'll be home after this patrol. Love you bye."
He tosses the phone before gripping your chin to spit into your mouth, his hand rests on the hem of his pants.
"Now...where was I?"
#shinsou hitoshi#shinsou x reader#shinso x reader#yandere bnha#shinso yandere#yandere shinso x reader#bnha x reader#bnha harem collab#bnha halloween#bnha spooky
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spellbound
pairing: jimmy page x fem!reader
warnings: mentions of substances, one (1) swear and a little nsfw at the end
words: 3k
summary: when in new orleans, there’s always something new and exciting to experience. when the boys take shelter in a quaint jazz lounge, they discover a hidden gem.
author’s note: this was an idea born from @timetraveller4 and her lovely mind, so thank you for that ash <3 no beta as always, and i really hope you enjoy :)
masterlist
It was Bonzo’s idea, originally.
The drummer had proposed that the band, accompanied, of course, by the infamous Richard Cole, go to a lounge for the night. See what the music scene was like, outside of their little bubble.
Touring had become almost monotonous, the endless flow of groupies blending into a hazy background of alcohol and drugs. They were in New Orleans for the night, and needed a release from the antics; a release of pressure.
Walking along the cobbled streets, lit only by tall, blinding streetlights, the hunt for the perfect spot continued. Rain twinkled like stardust upon them, landing in their hair and falling down their backs. Jimmy shivered, burrowing further into his coat, a rich navy blue, butterflies made of sparkling sequins fluttering across his shoulders. Cigarette dangling from lush, pink lips, he sighed out a faint white cloud of smoke. His long, dark hair stuck to his face and neck, and a swear burst past his lips. His curls hid emerald eyes from view like a curtain of darkness, and he shook his head.
It’ll be fun, he said. Don’t worry about it, he said. Just relax.
Robert, unaware of the glare the raven-haired guitarist was sporting, strolled ahead, eyes catching on a glowing sign, slick with rain and slightly weather-beaten. The place must be old, he thought.
Sliding closer, he gazed up at it, ocean eyes squinting against the rain that seemed to pour harder, faster, the further they ventured from their hotel. The sign, neon lights blurring into haloes of colour, read ‘The Whispering Wind’. Underneath sat a truly artistic rendition of wispy winds fading into a cloud, the pure ivory of its light cascading across the damp sidewalk like a graceful stream. You could almost feel the warmth and hospitality behind the closed doors, and Robert, whose smile seemed to light the path better than any streetlamp could, turned to his companions.
“This looks like a fine place, doesn't it?”
“Let’s go inside. Better than staying out here,” Jonesy replied, slipping past the singer to grasp at the ornate golden handle of the mahogany door. The bassist pulled the door open and stepped through, and almost immediately, he was enveloped by the comforting heat that seemed to settle into his chilled bones. “Definitely better.”
One by one, the boys stepped into the lounge, smiling as they took in the atmosphere. By the door sat a long bar, maple wood shining in the dim light filtering out from the fixtures hanging from above. Paintings of old Hollywood royalty decorated the taupe walls, while a spotlight affixed to the ceiling bathed the wooden surface of the stage against the wall in faint yellow light. The ruby red of the curtains complimented the exposed maroon brick of the opposite wall, and booths, with scarlet upholstery streaked through with pristine gold, littered the floor.
It was cramped and dimly lit, certainly not fit for the rock gods it sheltered. It was perfect.
Jimmy stood just outside the door, taking a final drag of the cigarette burning between his lips. Glancing around the cove of the entryway, his eyes locked onto a poster plastered across the wet brick of the building. The silhouette of a woman stood against a simple black background, gripping a microphone stand in manicured hands, mystery and class in the subtle curve of her lips. Half of her body was painted in a silvery light, and Jimmy stared at the long crimson dress she was wearing. Tantalizingly long legs are just visible from the slit that splits the gown.
In bold white lettering, a collection of dates are scrawled across its surface, but it’s the name that rippled across the paper that caught his eye.
“Y/N Y/L/N. Hm…”
Must be tonight’s performer, he thought. She’s gorgeous, from what Jimmy could tell; the sultry gaze, the teasing uptick of her rosy lips. The guitarist just hoped that she’s as talented as she is beautiful.
Jimmy let the cigarette in his hands drop to the floor, crushing it under his heel, smoky ash mingling with the scent of petrichor. Grasping the frigid metal of the door handle, the man’s ebony curls flew in every direction as he shivered once more. Slipping through the open door, a wave of comfort rushed over him, warmth settling into his core. The light din of unimportant conversation settled over him like a plush blanket, calming his perpetually racing mind.
Jimmy, spotting his friends at a table far back from the stage, sidled up to the bar, signalling for attention. Ordering his favourite of gin and tonic, the dark-haired guitarist walked back over to join the group, sitting down right next to Robert. The blond glanced over at him and grinned, wrapping a tanned arm around his shoulders.
“It’s a wonder you’ve stopped frowning, Pagey.”
“I was warned I’d get stuck like that, you see,” Jimmy grumbled, the hint of a smile that graced his lips shattering the image of dissatisfaction. “Hasn’t happened yet, but who knows what the future holds.”
“Ah. If it weren’t for your sunny disposition, we’d be in trouble.”
“You—”
The retort died on his tongue, and his mossy green eyes went impossibly wide.
An alluring voice, smooth and rich, rang clear and sharp through the air, charming the patrons of the lounge. The rasping tone made Jimmy’s mind go utterly blank, too entranced to react. Mingling with the droplets that danced from the black grand piano, the performer made his heart pound in his chest like a bass drum. Shaking Robert’s arm off, he turned to face the stage, and promptly forgot how to breathe.
“I put a spell on you, because you're mine. Oh, mine…”
Up on the stage, stood the most beautiful woman Jimmy had ever seen. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, a lovely contrast to the skin of her exposed shoulder. The woman fluttered around the stage, her dress, the colour of a midnight sky, swaying as she moved. She was full to the brim with restrained confidence: she knew she could dazzle the audience, but really, she didn't need to. They were already eating out of her palm.
Jaws hit the floor and every eye in the room was firmly trained on her, and the graceful smirk painting her features served as proof. She was a siren, and the audience her doomed admirers. Jimmy couldn't tear his eyes away through the whole performance, and his distracted clapping as she curtsied alerted his bandmates.
“You okay, Jim? Looks to me like,” Bonzo started, glancing over at Robert with mischief shining in his dark eyes, “You’ve got yourself a little crush, no?”
“I’m… She’s just—”
“Perfect? Gorgeous, talented,” Jonesy interrupted, catching the guitarist’s attention. A smug grin at home on his lips, the bassist shrugged, turning to face his friend. “And… standing right over there.”
Following the path pointed out by Jonesy’s outstretched finger, Jimmy’s eyes locked on a familiar figure, floor-length gown shimmering in the dim light. Stood at the bar, she rested her arms on the surface as she leaned closer to talk to the bartender. Throwing her head back in a genuine laugh, she bares her throat, and Jimmy’s mouth goes dry. The performer takes the drink offered to her, a glass filled with what looks to be whiskey in her manicured hands. A finger lazily traced the rim. The beautiful woman turned towards them then, locking eyes with the guitarist over her shoulder. She winked, and walked away, a ring of condensation on the tabletop all that was left of her.
“Hey, Cole,” Jimmy whispered into the silence that had fallen over the table, and turned to the man, whose only response was a telling smirk. “Would you… Could you, uh…”
“On it, boss.”
In a split second, the man shuffled away from the table, his parting gift a wink at the sable-haired guitarist.
------
As you step on stage, the crowd’s chatter continues, and you smile to yourself. Nights at The Whispering Wind were always like this: the snippets of conversation fading into a symphony of white noise. It calms you, being so used to the bustling New Orleans streets. This is a little slice of paradise, in your eyes.
You flatten down your dress, velvet soft against your hand, and gaze over to your pianist. Nodding back, he launches in, soft at first, but crescendoing soon after. His hand raised in the air, he looks over to you.
Your cue.
You take a deep breath, lungs filling with smoky air, and sing your heart out. Light and shade battle for dominance as you play the audience like a fiddle. Your voice, full of lust and desire, floats around the room, and you smirk to yourself, looking at the sea of faces in front of you. Everything is hazy, the spotlights blurring your vision, but you can swear someone is staring at you. A man, it looks like. His dark hair shines in the faded light, and his eyes sparkle with intelligence and, interestingly enough, appreciation. It takes effort to tear your eyes away from him, but you succeed, and belt out the last line. Your smile rivals the bright lights shining down on you, and you curtsy. The cheers of the audience serves as your soundtrack, as you step off stage, scurrying over to the bar. It takes a special effort not to gaze at the mystery man as you pass.
“Lovely evening for a drink, isn’t it? I’ll have whiskey, neat.”
“Coming right up, Madam,” The bartender winks at you, a smile blossoming on your face. He sets the drink into your waiting hands, and leans against the counter, smirking at you kindly. “Wonderful show, tonight. You’re a talent, my dear.”
“Well, thank you,” you reply, cheeks flushing a pretty pink. Your smile grows brighter, and your giggle is featherlight as it floats past your lips, “It’s what I love to do.”
Your conversation is interrupted by the sounds of whispers from behind you, and you look over your shoulder. Those eyes, the bright shade of green you had seen from the stage, were looking right back at you. He looks shy, nervous even, almost hiding behind his tawny-haired friend. From your spot at the bar, you can tell, now, just how handsome he truly is. His dark hair falls in tastefully mussed curls, and his skin looks clear, almost like porcelain. His lips are petal-pink, and look soft. His jaw is sharp, and he’s rather thin; scrawny even, but he’s still gorgeous.
Holding his gaze, you wink, and his eyes go impossibly wider. You tip the bartender and walk away, a “thank you” thrown over your shoulder. A safe distance away from the mystery man and his posse, you chance a look back, and spot a man standing from the table, patting the black-haired beauty on the back. To your surprise, he weaves through the crowd towards you.
“Excuse me, Miss,” he says, catching up to you. He smooths down his button-up shirt, and sends a charming grin your way, holding out a hand to shake. “May I ask your name?”
“It’s Y/N. And yours, if I may?”
“Richard Cole.”
“What can I do for you, Mr. Cole?” This is met by a chuckle from the man, his hand going up to stroke his dark beard.
“Well, lovely, do you see that man over there, with the black hair?” You follow his outstretched hand, and your eyes fall upon your mystery man. He’s looking back at you, hands fiddling with each other. His gaze finally drops from yours, and the tell-tale blush rising on his cheeks makes you laugh softly. “He’d love to have a chat with you.”
“If he wants to talk to me, he can come over here himself and tell me that.”
Cole chuckles, and shakes his head fondly. Glancing over at the mystery man, he waves him over. From your spot, you can see the way he approaches on shaky legs, and you smile, recognizing him instantly. With a pat on the back of the curly-haired man, Mr. Cole is gone, and you're alone together. This is going to be fun.
“What’s your name, darling?” You ask, though you already know the answer. It’s not every day that a world-famous musician stops by ‘The Whispering Wind’, after all.
“I-it’s Jimmy… uh, Page.” His hands, you notice, are clenched into fists, and he shuffles from foot to foot. You press closer to him, and he blushes harder, cheeks almost aflame.
“Pleasure to meet you, Jimmy. I’m—”
“You’re Y/N, aren't you? I saw the poster outside, and I thought you were beautiful,” Breath hitching as he realizes what he just said, Jimmy slaps a hand over his mouth. His emerald eyes signal that he’s embarrassed, but you can only giggle. “I only meant that—”
“Don’t worry about it. You’re not too bad yourself.”
Jimmy’s thin hand flies up to scratch the top of his head, and his hair falls in his face, effectively blocking him from view. You can see the beginnings of a smile on his lips.
“Thank you. I, uh… you’re an amazing vocalist. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, your stage presence was… arresting.”
“So you admit to staring at me?”
“Well, I… You…”
I’m just playing, Jimmy,” Your laugh twinkles as it fills the silence, and Jimmy’s lips quirk up in a small smile upon hearing it. “If anything, I should be the one staring. Led Zeppelin’s a big deal, y’know.”
“You… you recognized me?”
“You boys aren't exactly rising stars. Being as famous as you are, I didn’t think you’d be this humble.”
He chuckles under his breath, and looks up at you through his eyelashes. It seems he’s grown more confident now, and you smile, gaze drifting down to his mouth. If you leaned in, just a little, your lips would meet, and you could finally know if his are as soft as they look.
“We’re in New Orleans for another day, uh… I was wondering if, well… God, I’m terrible at this.”
“Jimmy—”
“Could I… take you out, sometime?” His halting, nervous speech only makes him more endearing, and you gaze into his eyes as he squirms. Jimmy sputters, trying to take his words back, but you silence him with a hand on his bicep. Lean muscle ripples under your hand, and you smile at him.
“Jimmy.”
“Oh God, I’ve fucked it all up, haven’t I? J-just forget what I said, I don’t know what—”
“It’s—”
“Seriously, it was probably a mistake to ask you that. I mean,” Jimmy’s head droops, hair shielding him once more, and you can’t help the fondness that rushes through you. Unaware of the smile that nearly splits your cheeks, he presses on, hands flying back and forth to prove his point, “You’re absolutely divine, and I’m just— Uh...”
Close enough that you could almost feel the heat radiating off of him, you put a hand to his shoulder, wiping off imaginary dust from his coat. Your fingers catch slightly on the bedazzled butterflies that adorn it. His eyes follow your hands as they dance and twirl across the fabric, and you can hear his sharp intake of breath echo in the slight space between the two of you. A lone finger finally finds his chin, and you lift his head to look at you.
“Eyes on me, chéri.”
His gorgeous green eyes meet yours from under his curly fringe, and you push a stray lock to rest behind his ear. His cheeks redden even more, something you hadn’t thought possible, as he stares into your eyes.
Pressing close to him, his scent surrounds you, and your lips brush against the curve of his ear.
“Tu veux un rendez-vous? Tu dois travailler pour cela, chéri.”
You pull away, and he is left with the ghost of soft lips against his cheek, the scent of your perfume floating after you as you walk away. Jimmy stands in place, too stunned to even react, until a hand at his back makes him jump. Glancing over his shoulder, he spots his bandmates, smirks at home on their faces. Jonesy pipes up, looking him up and down.
“You okay, Page? You’re looking pretty red…”
“It seems, and correct me if I’m wrong,” interjects Bonzo, as he slips an arm around Jimmy, guiding him back to their table. Jimmy slumps into a chair, stunned into silence, a hand raising to his cheek. Bonzo chuckles, and continues, “Like your crush just got a lot more serious.”
------
Safe behind the door of his hotel room, Jimmy trudges to the bathroom to turn on the shower. Slipping out of his clothes, that he folds neatly on the bed, the guitarist steps in. Steam curls in tendrils around the small bathroom, and Jimmy takes a deep breath. Hand settling on his cock, he begins stroking it slowly; experimentally. The pleasure feels incredible, euphoric even, as his mind drifts to the intriguing woman he had met just an hour ago. Her image is seared into his mind, and every touch she had given him felt like a wildfire licking at his skin. His groans match the speed of his hand as he speeds up, gripping the tiled wall for support.
The scent of her perfume, something floral, unplaceable, lingered in his nose, and he wishes to see her again. To have that scent invade all of his senses, again. Jimmy’s whimpers, quiet, yet keening, echo off the walls, as he reaches his peak. He imagines her there with him, raking a hand roughly through his hair, her hands roaming every inch of skin they could reach.
His muscles twitch as warmth spills over his hand, a soft grunt slipping past his gritted teeth. He’s in ecstasy, something better than any drug. Something he doesn’t ever want to come down from.
As he recovers from the high he had just experienced, his gasping breaths fill the space. Knees trembling from exertion, he grips onto the slippery shower wall, and whispers into the steam that fills the room.
“Y/N…”
------
(the french sentence: you want a date? you have to work for that, darling)
taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso @jonesyjonesyjonesy @jimmypages (let me know if you want to be added!)
#jimmy page#led zeppelin#jimmy page fanfiction#jimmy page fanfic#jimmy page x reader#led zeppelin fanfic#classic rock fanfic#reader insert
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Chapter 26 “ What You Want” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” quotes and commentary. Not a full list of favorite quotes or full commentary.
Oh, this got so long, though. I was like, “An opportunity to wax poetic about Moshang dynamics and characterization? An opportunity to talk about why my interpretations of Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua are Like That? SIGN ME UP.”
-
【Beginning next mission stage.】
【Death of the Author - Part 2: The Secret Basement of Shang Qinghua.】
【Mission objective: place the Weeper’s Eye on the pedestal.】
Shang Qinghua slowly sits up on his sofa. He stares at the pop-up window for however long it takes his brain to roll over completely.
“I don’t have a fucking basement?” he says finally.
-
AN: I have been waiting to use “I don’t have a fucking basement?” for months. Also, it’s been years for him, so Shang Qinghua is a little oblivious, BUT I would like to point readers all the way back to some paragraphs from Chapter 2.
Excerpt from Chapter 2: “A Horseshoe Nail”:
Shang Qinghua considers the point loss. What are his excuses character motivations here? Why is his unmerciful System not completely skewering him for this?
He is the servant of a demon lord, Mobei-Jun, the future Northern King, so he has a greater investment than most cultivators in the future of the Demon Realm, so it’s not unreasonable for him to seek out any bastards of Tianlang-Jun without handing the demon baby over to a righteous sect. He’s also a Peak Lord of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, so it’s not unreasonable for him to be interested in any rumors of the whereabouts of Su Xiyan or what happened to her, for political leverage or whatever. The character of Shang Qinghua originally was and still is a spy - on top of being a shameless coward willing to cling to anyone’s thighs and then stab them in the back, in order to stay alive or advance himself.
There are plenty of magical artifacts in this world that might give a power-grubbing weakling like Shang Qinghua an insight into the future. As Peak Lord of An Ding, Shang Qinghua is, in fact, in a pretty good place to get his greedy hands on one of these magical artifacts. Isn’t that what a good spy and overall ambitious snake would do?
Especially a spy serving a demon lord extremely likely to get fed up with him and kill him at some point? While also serving a righteous cultivation sect extremely likely to execute him for eventually betraying them? Of course Shang Qinghua would obviously want to know how to save his own ass from these ticking time-bombs! And how better to save his own ass than shamelessly clinging to the golden thighs of the protagonist, who will one day conquer every other demon lord and all righteous sects?
Following Luo Binghe means being on the endgame winning team!
Shang Qinghua looks over the pop-up window’s numbers over again, in regards to the loss of points. True, how exactly he tracked down Su Xiyan’s half-demon baby when the Huan Hua Palace Master failed is a bit of a plot-hole, but the rest can be easily explained away with a bit of creativity!
Oh, the rest of the cultivation world didn’t know Su Xiyan was pregnant? Well, Shang Qinghua is a slimy, sneaky spy, who would of course guess that a female cultivator might suddenly disappear like that for months-on-end due to a secret pregnancy! And given that Su Xiyan’s reputation had been linked to a passionately self-destructive Tianlang-Jun… Okay, he can feel the anti-fan rage at that mildly sexist line of thinking, but it stands! It stands!
Now, Shang Qinghua just has to… actually decide… whether or not he wants to take the point loss, in order to save the life of his protagonist son’s adoptive mother, Luo Jiahui.
Shang Qinghua, my darling fool of an Author God, your System is listening to the things you say and think.
I have been WORKING here to foreshadow where I’m going with this story. I’m pretty sure that every single endgame plot point has shown up and is now in play in PINTWILF. Shang Qinghua, due to situational awareness, is dealing with too much in-world shit to narrow things down easily, but it’s all there! It will hopefully not seem as though I’m pulling things out of nowhere in the next and final part (Part 4) of this fic.
-
“This makes me look crazy, bro,” Shang Qinghua complains to the System. “It really does. I already have to be careful about talking to the secret, world-controlling system that lives in my head and this? This is not making me look any more stable! Where did this come from? Where the fuck did I even get it?! ”
Oh, things are coming together in Shang Qinghua’s head and he doesn’t know if he really likes the picture. On one hand, it’s always nice to actually have someone or something to blame for things beyond the fucking System. On the other hand, he really doesn’t know how the fuck he’s supposed to sleep at night with a full-length, polished silver mirror with an ornate golden frame under his house.
-
AN: Shang Qinghua, have you noticed that you’ve stopped losing points for continuity errors and plot holes? Shang Qinghua, you know that the people in your life have noticed that you know too much. They’ve just decided not to question you about it because you always look like you’re going to faint when they do, then you laugh and change the subject.
But now Shen Qingqiu is on to you and he’s not so easy to shake.
(Plus Shen Yuan! They’re terriers, SQH!)
-
He turns away from the mirror, only for a second System window to pop up in front of him. Only… the design of this one is different. Familiar, though! It takes Shang Qinghua a second to place it as Peerless Cucumber- as Shen Yuan’s Transmigration System.
【 Users cannot be injured, killed, or trapped inside the looking-glass! The user will not be able to touch or be touched by anything inside the looking-glass! The user will be returned from the looking-glass within thirty minutes, unharmed! A substantial point reward is attached to this bonus mission. 】
“Right,” Shang Qinghua says.
This second pop-up window then shifts colors and is ruthlessly closed before his eyes. Ah, wow, Shang Qinghua kind of feels like he just saw someone get murdered here.
“...How many points?” he asks finally, reluctantly curious.
-
AN: Having the Systems fight is so much fun. My setup here in PINTWILF has it so that there’s a main Worldbuilding System that does its best to maintain the world, then each transmigrator has their own personal Transmigration System managing their case.
This is so the Worldbuilding System can maintain the world without the presence of transmigrators, and so the personal Systems can potentially follow their transmigrators into another world. All the Systems interact with each other in order to try to manage things and there are... issues.
Look, the thing about simulated (or managed) realities for me is... someone coded the thing (or did some equivalent of coding the thing), and whether or not this thing in question is the world or just the System, if there are multiple entities trying to manage things, there’s going to be fuck-ups. You can’t have two cooks in the kitchen without points where the two cooks get in each other’s way at least a little bit. If there are multiple Systems, then you’re going to have friction, and that friction can be funny.
Inspired by me trying to run two heavy art programs on my computer at once and being like, “Oh, boy, please don’t burst into flames while duking it out in there. Oh, man, you two were NOT made to operate together, huh?”
-
He knows he’s right when he walks away from some kind of important-looking procession, stepping into the next room at the same time as someone else, who looks directly at him and doesn’t look away. Shang Qinghua freezes in the doorway and doesn’t let himself stare so much as he can’t stop himself.
“Oh, no,” Shang Qinghua thinks.
There’s a man standing in front of him, tall and broad-shouldered, with an ageless youth, but a sharp gaze and no youthful roundness to his features. His curly black hair has been cursorily held back from his face by a golden ornament, but is otherwise loose, and he wears his ornate red and black robes well and correctly, but like a man with a hundred more.
The man flicks a strong hand at the doors behind Shang Qinghua, which slam shut with a bang, like he’s done this a thousand times before.
He smiles unkindly. “Shang-Shishu,” he says, like he’s tasting the title, considering tearing it apart with his teeth. “So it's true. How curious.”
There’s no way for Shang Qinghua to count how many times he’s seen this face before, but he’s never seen it like this. The man looks like an emperor. He looks like a god. The red mark of the Heavenly Demons burns like a crown in the middle of his forehead.
Shang Qinghua takes an unwilling step back.
“What are you afraid of?” the original Luo Binghe says, still smiling. “We’re only talking.”
-
AN: I tried to make this meeting mirror Shang Qinghua and Luo Binghe’s first scene in Part 3 of the fic, in which we finally meet the Luo Binghe (Shang Qinghua’s nephew) who is going to interact with the PIDW plot.
Excerpt from Chapter 18: “The Inevitable Plot”:
The restaurant is closed when Shang Qinghua lets himself in. The tables in the dining room are still packed up, lit by dim light through shuttered windows, and the only sign of another person are the chopping sounds coming from the brightness of the kitchen. Shang Qinghua stops in the doorway and lets himself stare.
There’s a young teenage boy standing at the counter, thirteen going on fourteen, still not yet near his adult height (taller than Shang Qinghua, a fact he's still not prepared to face), still carrying a youthful roundness to his features. Shang Qinghua has seen him like this a hundred times before: curly black hair tied back, a kerchief covering his head to keep it out of his eyes, a slightly yellowed matching apron neatly tied just the way his mother taught him, and intent on the work in front of him. His hands are quick, the knife sharp and sure, and the movements of food preparation work slide right into each other like he’s done this a thousand times before.
When did the boy get so big? It didn’t happen all at once; it snuck up on them, hiding dastardly in plain sight! Shang Qinghua remembers when his nephew barely came up to his waist. Fuck, Shang Qinghua remembers when his nephew couldn’t walk. What is this? Who allowed time to pass like this?
Luo Binghe scrapes the chopped vegetables off the board and into the basket beside him, before putting down the knife and turning around. He smiles.
There’s no way for Shang Qinghua to count how many times he’s seen that before.
“Uncle,” the protagonist says fondly. “You’re here.”
-
“Let’s talk,” Luo Binghe calls out, cajoling now. “Stop running and speak to me and perhaps old hurts can be forgiven. All that condonation and betrayal is so far in the past now. This lord can be merciful, Shang Qinghua. Just speak: how many things have you been hiding...?”
-
AN: This is PIDW Luo Binghe, by the way.
Once I realized I was going to have a room full of fortune-telling devices, I was like... “Ooh! Bing-Ge scene! I should have a Bing-Ge scene!” Because, like, that’s the curse of SVSSS transmigrator protagonists who trip into caring about Luo Binghe, baby!
-
Shang Qinghua takes some deep breaths to calm his poor, weak heart, and nearly falls to the floor anyway! But he catches himself!
And then a large, cold hand wraps around his arm to steady him. It’s the cold that keeps him from lashing out and probably breaking his own hand. Instead, he looks up, heart still pounding in his ears, into the frowning face of Mobei-Jun.
“Oh, you have the worst timing,” Shang Qinghua breathes.
Mobei-Jun’s expression twitches and he lets go.
“No!” Shang Qinghua chases the hand with his own, catching it before the man can get too far. “My king, I’m so glad to see you! Thank you for finally coming! I have so much to say,” he says quickly. “I-”
Before he realizes that he’s essentially holding Mobei-Jun’s hand for no reason now - ah, now that’s something he never would have dared to do like twenty years ago - and carefully drops it. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the panic still racing through his veins. And then promptly realizes that Mobei-Jun is here. The demon lord is here in this secret basement.
-
AN: Moshang in this fic is... hmmm... a little weird sometimes, because a lot of it has been happening in the background. A lot of it has been unspoken until Shang Qinghua’s breakdown and until now.
Shang Qinghua isn’t actually as scared of Mobei-Jun in this fic as he is in SVSSS, and I hope that comes across. When he had his breakdown, part of it was fear, but a large part of it was also actually anger. Shang Qinghua was afraid of how the System had changed his life, but he was also angry about this loss of control. Yes, he was terrified of Mobei-Jun because he didn’t know if it was still his Mobei-Jun, which brought lots of old memories and old anger to the surface, in which Shang Qinghua was kind of like, “How dare you think you get to freely touch me after the things you did and never apologized for?”
BUT the status quo in this world, before the World Update, is one in which Mobei-Jun touches Shang Qinghua’s hip without SQH flinching. It’s one in which SQH and MBJ drink and relax together. It’s one in which SQH isn’t afraid to reach out and grab MBJ’s hand, because he misses MBJ.
They’re so close, they just need to actually talk it out.
-
Shang Qinghua glances at the ladder and the open hole in the floor. “Ah, my king, did you… climb down here looking for me?”
“Yes,” Mobei-Jun answers, looking around with sharp eyes. He doesn’t seem to be very impressed with what he’s seeing. “...What is this place?”
“My, ah, my basement,” Shang Qinghua answers, leaving out the part where he didn’t even know he had one until about an hour ago. The System is determined to make him look like a bit of a madman, huh? “It’s just… just some artifacts and tools. I don’t… I don’t really come down here a lot…”
Mobei-Jun finishes studying the room, then stares at him again, his gaze more piercing than ever.
“The future concerns you this much?” he says.
Shang Qinghua is totally prepared to deny everything, but the phrasing of that cuts off every story he might try to tell. He glances around the room, full of these broken, desperate, stolen things. It’s… reflecting.
“...Yes,” he admits, hoarsely. Then coughs. “I… my king, we should… talk.”
“Yes,” Mobei-Jun agrees.
“But, ah, not here? I don’t… like it here.”
“Yes.”
-
AN: Mobei-Jun is one of the people who has noticed that Shang Qinghua knows more than he should. And now, thanks to this secret basement, Mobei-Jun has an explanation for why Shang Qinghua knows more than he should!
If you don’t know about the System element, then this basement is actually pretty in-character for the new Shang Qinghua of PINTWILF.
He is so scared of the future. He’s invested in the story now.
-
Shang Qinghua isn’t surprised at all when the special item speaks again as soon as it’s back in his hand.
Why would it shut up now, after all?
“He has no name but the position he has been promised to, which he may not live to see,” the Weeper’s Eye says, which pulls Shang Qinghua’s gaze back to the demon lord waiting for him. “His father uses him as a tool. His mother is long departed. His uncle wants him dead. He has long known that these broken promises cannot be undone… but he knows new promises may yet be made.”
Mobei-Jun is frowning at the crystal eye in Shang Qinghua’s hand, looking between it and Shang Qinghua’s own eyes.
He’s not dressed-up the same way he was the last time Shang Qinghua saw him - no especially fancy robes or ornaments or jewelry. He looks like himself this time.
“If these ones are not kept, there will be nothing for the nameless man who will be king.”
Shang Qinghua doesn’t move.
-
AN: I mentioned exploring Mobei-Jun not having a name in the commentary on the previous chapter. I guess that’s my take on PIDW Mobei-Jun... that the man doesn’t really have anything outside of his position. He’s a king, in service to a tyrant, and he’s never going to let anyone in. He’s just... cold... the whole way through. PIDW Mobei-Jun has an icy throne and nothing else.
PINTWILF (and SVSSS) Mobei-Jun has the Airplane version of Shang Qinghua. When Airplane saved MBJ’s life, the System wasn’t making him do it, he made that choice for himself. The System was willing to let MBJ die (and, in my headcanon, be replaced by some ice demon cousin or LGJ). So, MBJ turns around and chooses Shang Qinghua for himself.
Shang Qinghua was like, “No! This character can’t be replaced! You can’t just dress someone else up as Mobei-Jun! You can’t just let the character die! It has to be this man in that role! No one else!”
When Mobei-Jun is coming to talk to Shang Qinghua in this fic, in this moment, he is making this choice for himself, the nameless man who has been promised a position he might not live to see. That’s what the Weeper’s Eye is getting at. If Shang Qinghua doesn’t want to hear the promises Mobei-Jun is will to make him, there might as well not be anything in Mobei-Jun’s future to make him an individual, more than a cold figure acting out a part.
-
“...Shang Qinghua,” Mobei-Jun says finally. “I will not hurt you.”
Shang Qinghua’s gaze snaps from the crystal eye in his hand, back to the demon lord standing by the exit to this secret basement.
“We will speak,” Mobei-Jun says solemnly, slowly, like someone repeating the lines of a script. “I wish to be understood by you. I have not known how. Yet I must try now… in my own words… and you must listen.”
Shang Qinghua swallows.
The anger - the frustration - breaking through at the end there sounds more like the man he knows. He’s pretty sure that’s meant to be a request, but it sounds like an order.
-
AN: After their last conversation, Mobei-Jun had a lot of soul-searching to do, and one of the conclusions he came to is that he can’t take anything for granted. He has to made explicitly clear, using words, which is apparently what matters with humans and with this human in particular, everything he feels. He can’t take the risk of continuing to hurt Shang Qinghua by letting the man think that he doesn’t regret hurting him or may hurt him again someday.
-
He puts the Weeper’s Eye down.
He’s really sick of this thing. He doesn't want to carry it around all the time.
It only tells him things he knows, anyway.
-
AN: We’ll get into the Weeper’s Eye in future chapters, but it’s... it’s not really a mind-reading device. It kind of is. It is a little bit. But part of the reason it’s so informative here is that Shang Qinghua is holding it and Shang Qinghua actually knows a lot about his characters and the people in his life.
Even the original characters, like Fanli, he knows well. She’s his family. He’s privy to Fanli’s problems through Jiahui and Liu Qingge if nothing else.
With Shen Yuan, he doesn’t know the kid well yet, but his fellow transmigrator isn’t that difficult to read and he’s been where Shen Yuan is.
Shang Qinghua putting the Weeper’s Eye down here is a show of trust of sorts. It’s a way of telling himself to get out of his own head, away from character roles and exaggerated panic, and put himself in the moment with someone he knows and... well... trusts and wants to trust even more.
-
Shang Qinghua follows Mobei-Jun out of the basement, removing the spiritual seal from the wall, which makes the creepy basement entrance disappear, then replacing the flower that covered it. He hesitantly follows the demon lord back to the main room of his Leisure House. He has no idea how to stand, suddenly, or where to stand.
Mobei-Jun looks very determined.
“So, ah, should we… sit?”
“No,” Mobei-Jun replies, then abruptly says, “Shang Qinghua, you do not have to fear me. I do not wish to cause you any pain. Now or in the future.”
Shang Qinghua stares, wide-eyed.
That’s not… something he ever expected to hear explicitly.
Good! It's good, though! Very good.
It's great, really.
“...Thank you,” he says, stunned. “I don’t want to cause you pain either?”
“You have shown as much. Many times.”
This is probably not the time for an “Yes, I did tell you so” in any form!
Instead, trying to remember all the speeches he prepared while waiting, Shang Qinghua says, “You have too! In your own way! I just… my king, last time you visited was a… it was a very bad day for me. I apologize for my behavior! I was speaking from a place of-”
“Fear,” Mobei-Jun interrupts darkly. “Well-deserved.”
“Ah, well…”
“You believed that I would hurt you, in your state,” Mobei-Jun says.
“I was… it was very a bad and confused state, my king.”
“...You do not trust me.”
Shang Qinghua’s voice dries up on him. He wouldn’t put it that way, exactly! That sounds pretty terrible when said in such a blunt way. They’ve moved past that, haven’t they? It’s more that he trusts different people with different things! He trusts Luo Jiahui to be Luo Jiahui, and Liu Qingge to be Liu Qingge, and Mobei-Jun… to be Mobei-Jun.
-
AN: Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun got really far without explicitly talking about things, but at some point that stopped cutting it.
-
“I have hurt you before,” Mobei-Jun says, looking at him directly. “From a place of fear… of anger… of… misunderstanding. I am… sorry for this. I will not do so again. I was wrong to treat you in such a way.”
Shang Qinghua takes in a deep breath… and out again.
Fuck, it feels like his eyes are burning.
“You have my respect,” Mobei-Jun says quietly, urgently, not letting up on getting all of these words out into the open. “You have my regard. You have my trust. Yet I have not shown this in a way that you have understood, so you could not share this. I have demanded your loyalty without being deserving of it.”
“My king,” Shang Qinghua protests, taking a step forward. “I was- I should have said-”
“You did. Many times. In many ways. I did not understand.”
“I wasn’t very clear either-”
“It was my responsibility to be clear. I must be clear now.”
“You’re being very clear now,” Shang Qinghua agrees quickly. If things get any clearer here, if any more of the things they’ve left unspoken get said, his heart won’t be able to take it. “Thank you, my king. It means- thank you."
Mobei-Jun nods. He looks relieved.
-
AN: I wanted to write a version of Moshang that felt... a little more mature? Shang Qinghua has developed a lot in this fic. He has grown as a person. And Mobei-Jun has seen this growth over the years.
Mobei-Jun has also been able to see into this Shang Qinghua in a way that wasn’t available in SVSSS canon. I think that SVSSS Shang Qinghua was locked the fuck down. I think he was almost completely inaccessible and offered very, very few openings for connection.
But in this universe, Mobei-Jun actually knows a lot more about Shang Qinghua. He knows what motivates Shang Qinghua. He knows that Shang Qinghua is a doting uncle and a doting older brother. He knows that Shang Qinghua has come to care for his sect. He knows that Shang Qinghua is intelligent and resourceful and funny. They drink together and talk politics! Mobei-Jun knows that Shang Qinghua is loyal and tired and trustworthy.
So... there was an opening here that didn’t exist in SVSSS canon.
And Mobei-Jun took it.
-
Shang Qinghua knows that cultural differences are a hell of a thing here, but everything being understandable in hindsight didn't make it not fucking hurt. It still hurts, even finally having the apology he never thought he'd get.
"...We’ve been pretty bad at understanding each other, huh?”
“It has often seemed as though we were not meant to meet,” the demon lord says softly.
Shang Qinghua, who can't imagine getting through his transmigration experience without meeting this man, thinks over all the unknowing irony in that statement.
"...Maybe."
“The differences are… significant.”
Shang Qinghua laughs, almost disbelieving. “That’s a word for it!”
"But not impassable."
"Ah… I… hope not."
-
AN: I’ll probably make a separate post for this, but I love Moshang transmigrator reveals. Bingqiu transmigrator reveals are mostly about the Abyss, which is great, because that needs clearing up. MOSHANG transmigrator reveals are like, “My weak human husband is a god???”
Also love it when MBJ is like, “Yes, this makes sense.”
-
“I have never known what you have wanted from me,” Mobei-Jun says next, like a confession. “Your life, you have said, time and time again. Though I am only alive by your grace. You demand none of what you deserve of me.”
“...I don’t think ‘deserve’ is a good word for this,” Shang Qinghua says, which probably isn’t the right thing to say, but he’s really too stunned to come up with anything better. He really didn’t prepare for the right conversation here. “Aha, sorry, my king. It’s just… I don’t think I like to think about it in terms of ‘owing’ anymore. Between us. At least… not like some sort of strict balance? I do something nice for you, you owe me. You do something bad to me, I get to hurt you. Not… not like that.”
Mobei-Jun thinks about it.
“Sorry, I don’t really know what I’m saying-”
“You are deserving of better than what I have given you,” Mobei-Jun insists, determinedly. “I do not understand you. I have never understood you.”
Shang Qinghua feels the same way.
“But I would like to,” Mobei-Jun says next. “I would if you would allow it.”
-
AN: Mobei-Jun is only alive because Shang Qinghua saved him and he knows it! And Shang Qinghua has never made the demands he should have made, having that kind of leverage over Mobei-Jun!
I’ve always wondered if this is deeply romantic by demon standards. Like, not inherently romantic. But I would bet that Mobei-Jun really likes the idea of a relationship where no one is keeping score... no one is granting favors to use like a leash of obligation... no one owes the other things they don’t want to give. I would bet that Mobei-Jun really, really likes the idea of a relationship where affection is freely given because the people in it want to give it.
He does feel as though he owes Shang Qinghua, but I think Mobei-Jun likes the idea that his favor is his to give just because he wants to give it.
-
Mobei-Jun lifts a hand, slowly, and holds it out.
Shang Qinghua thinks about it.
He thinks about it again.
He reaches back and puts his hand in Mobei-Jun’s own, which is as cool to the touch as always, and moves over his skin carefully. His hold is so light that Shang Qinghua could break it without any issue at all.
They stay there, like that, looking at each other.
Looking at their hands, holding without hurting, after everything. It's such a small gesture.
It feels kind of like a miracle.
-
AN: I am... a huge fucking sucker for Mobei-Jun holding Shang Qinghua waaaaay too lightly because he won’t risk hurting Shang Qinghua again. Like, this man is going to take it from the top. No more assumptions.
-
“What do you want, Shang Qinghua?” Mobei-Jun says, voice turning up at the end, in the closest thing that the man might ever come to helplessness. “What do you want from this?”
“I…” Shang Qinghua wipes at his burning eyes with his free hand. This is kind of pitiful. “Fuck.”
Mobei-Jun lifts his free hand and uses his own sleeve to wipe at Shang Qinghua’s tears, like his robes aren’t important to him at all. “Ask,” the man says, in the tone of a promise. “You do not have to fear the future. Anything I have to give is yours.”
Shang Qinghua gives up on trying to speak and just moves forward to bury his face in Mobei-Jun’s chest. Fuck it. The demon lord who was supposed to kill his character lets him do it. Mobei-Jun holds on to him, arms heavy but still so careful, the man’s chest moving in a sigh that sounds like relief.
This really was too many unspoken things to finally say aloud all at once.
-
AN: So, yeah! That’s what I’m been building up to with the Jiahui/Qingge marriage and the Qijiu fights and makeup, getting Shang Qinghua to think about what he wants from his relationship with Mobei-Jun. Luo Jiahui and Shen Qingqiu have basically been throwing the question at him repeatedly: “What do you want from this life, Shang Qinghua?”
Because it can’t all be plot! You’ve taken your family for yourself, but you can have more than that! You’ve made so many choices already... you can take this last step and make this choice too. Let Mobei-Jun in.
A lot of Moshang plots end up being “Shang Qinghua’s inability to communicate versus Mobei-Jun’s inability to communicate”. Which is great! That’s Moshang! And some external issue (a rival demon lord, Linguang-Jun, etc.) will end up being the secondary plot which acts as a scenario pusher for the primary plot of the Moshang relationship. Again, great stuff!
But since the romance isn’t the focus of this fic, I decided it would be fun to have a more “Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun versus the problem” take. (Which also shows up in lots of Moshang fics! Definitely not exclusive to this fic at all!) I’m looking forward to having Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun actually try and tackle problems together, as a couple, inside the main “Family of Choice” plot.
Which isn’t to say that Moshang have totally worked out their relationship here. They have only just gotten together. Mobei-Jun still has issues. Shang Qinghua still has many issues. They’ve got a lot to work out together. They’ve never been in a relationship like this before and there’s a lot of people out there who would object to their relationship! Their relationship is going to continue to grow as the fic continues. They’re going to have a few bumps in the road.
But I really like the idea of Mobei-Jun being Shang Qinghua’s rock in this fic. This man has been so stressed. He needs a hug from his ice demon boyfriend who can soothe headaches with a hand.
-
When Shang Qinghua feels like he has himself more under control, he draws back just far enough to say, “My king, will you kiss me?”
Mobei-Jun’s expression is already soft, at least by his standards. His gaze turns hooded before he leans down as Shang Qinghua leans up. Shang Qinghua takes the man’s face between his hands to kiss him. It feels nice, if uncertain, with the hunger of something a long time coming at the end of it. There's years worth of wanting in this.
It has been so fucking long since Shang Qinghua kissed anyone.
He breaks the kiss and has to stifle laughter, clinging to the front of Mobei-Jun’s robes, which the man never closes properly, so now Shang Qinghua is never going to be able to not thinking about touching it. It’s a very nice chest to touch. He knew it would be.
Mobei-Jun’s brow furrows slightly, his hands staying on Shang Qinghua’s hips.
“What?”
Ah, sorry! Sorry, my king! It’s just- this is such a ridiculous detail to get stuck on, but your lips are kind of cold? I’ve, ah, I’ve always kind of wondered,” Shang Qinghua confesses quietly, without really meaning to actually say it. Holy shit, he’s going to blame saying something like this after that on the fact that he’s had a very long and very weird day. “Sorry. I'm really tired. It's fine. It's good.”
Mobei-Jun snorts and kisses him again, as if to say, “Deal with it.”
-
AN: Cute! Mobei-Jun likes it when Shang Qinghua laughs. I stand by this.
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tight-lipped
There’s a long list of stupid things one could do when in love and that includes hiding the stupid emotion even after five years.
↳ pairing: han jisung x reader
↳ genre: mostly fluff with teeny tiny sprinkle of angst
↳ wc: 3.1k
↳ warning: swearing
“Making it to the president’s list really does have its perks, huh? I mean come on, it’s only our first day of but the professor already knows you.”
You could only laugh at your friend’s remarks. Your friend, Hyunjin, continued rambling on how the university favors that damn list so much and how you should share its perks – all while walking and not looking at a single thing in the hallway.
“You should probably look at where you are walking, Hyunjin,” you said without looking at him.
Your eyes lit up upon the sight of the vending machine in the corner of the hallway just before the stairs. You took it as a sign for you to take your daily coffee. You stopped in front of it, with Hyunjin following you, and fed it coins then pressed the button for your favorite can of coffee. “Coffee again? We don’t even have that much work yet?” You claimed your coffee, opening it before turning to Hyunjin. “You know I can’t function without it.” You said before smelling the strong scent of coffee, feeling like it was the perfect blend of coffee beans to wake up your sleepy soul. You took a sip and instantly, you were more alert than before.
“Whatever you say.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes at your actions. Truly, he has never seen anyone act like that once they get their hands on coffee. The two of you continued walking through the hallway with Hyunjin greeting some people on the way. Social butterfly, that is what he is. You snorted at him once he was done waving to the latest. “Are you running for a seat or something?” you asked him as you took the last sip of your coffee. “That’s called being friendly, y/n. Try it sometimes, you know. Without that scary looking face.” You almost threw the empty can to his face but you just rolled your eyes and nudged his arm with your elbow which he quickly dodged. He has memorized your actions throughout the two years he has known you.
The both of you were out of the building when Hyunjin suddenly remembered his new schedule. “Oh I have another class in a bit,” grunting at the fact that his classes are basically one after another this semester. “I don’t. Bye.” You stuck your tongue out at him then ran off to the opposite side of where his building is. Hyunjin only laughed at your back before turning around and walking to his building.
You have been walking for a long time when you realized that you don’t know where you are going. You stopped on your tracks and looked around. When you spotted a bench across where you are standing, you decided to approach it and sat down. You dropped your bag beside you and took a good look at your surroundings.
The day was good. Too good for your liking. The sun is shining perfectly, it was neither too bright nor too dull, yet it was blinding your eye. The leaves were colored auburn with streaks of yellow and faint accents of green. They were dancing to the slow yet smooth rhythms of the wind. It was so smooth that it almost demanded to be felt. You tightened your coat, rejecting the wind’s request of touch. It was when an orange leaf fell on your lap did you release a sad smile.
It was autumn. The season you hated the most. The season which makes your heart melancholic like it was being brought back to the time you wanted so hard to burn in your memories. You touched the leaf, feeling its rough surface. You didn’t want to but as the leaf made crisp sounds as a response to your touch, you suddenly found yourself reminiscing the memory of a man you wish to forget.
“Han Jisung!”
Your rowdy classmate shouted across the room, trying to gain the boy’s attention. His eyes, however, are busy staring at your figure. That same classmate ran out of patience, approached Jisung and slapped his hand on Jisung’s desk. “Come on, man. We’re going to play some games.” Jisung looked up in annoyance and shoved the man away, “Go by yourselves Felix. I’m busy.” He tried to return his gaze to you but it wasn’t too long when Felix interrupted him again.
“Busy what? Daydreaming about y/n?” Series of teasing cheers can soon be heard all over the room and Jisung couldn’t help but smile shyly. “Am I that obvious?” Jisung asked curiously. “Obvious my ass. Everyone practically knows,” Felix slapped the other boy’s shoulder. The moment his gaze landed back to your seat, you were gone. Jisung hurriedly packed his stuff and went towards the door, trying to catch up with you.
Han Jisung was a transferee in ninth grade but he was able to make friends almost immediately. He was this aloof, outgoing guy who always makes jokes and gets along with everyone. Heck, he was able to befriend the whole classroom two days after his transfer, and the whole batch a month in his stay. So you really didn’t know why, out of all people he managed to be friends with, it is you who he decided to annoy every single day.
It was lunch time, a week after his transfer, when he approached you the first time. He waved and did not say anything at all. You thought he was weird but you ended up smiling slightly before exiting the room for lunch. It was that same lunch time when he approached your table then asked you and your friends if he can sit beside you. You were questioning his whole personality at that point.
What is wrong with this guy? You didn’t want to say yes but that would surely make you look rude. But then again, you didn’t care. Before you were able to say no, he was pulled by your other classmate Felix. Your eyes followed their backs but Jisung’s eyes were still looking your way. You decided to just shrug it off, thinking the weird interaction would end there. Boy, you were wrong.
Jisung wasn’t sitting beside you in class but one morning, you found him sitting at the seat to your right. You took your seat and placed your bag under your desk when he spoke, “Hi y/n.” you looked at him and he was smiling so widely. His head was propped on his palms. You furrowed your brows, confused as to why this new guy is trying to make a conversation with you. “Uhm... hi? You ate something weird this morning?”
You thought Jisung’s smile couldn’t go any wider but it just did. “No. No, I didn’t. Uhm… Did you… Do you… How do you like your eggs cooked?” All you could do was mentally say hah? with your mouth opened as if you said it vocally.
Meanwhile, Jisung mentally slapped himself for coming up with a stupid question. That was all he could get from his brain which went rambles just because you asked him if he had eaten anything for breakfast. Maybe that is not the exact question but it’s getting there. He was about to clear himself up from the embarrassment when the teacher entered the room. “Talk to you later.” He stood up and went to his original seat, motioning for the guy who was originally seated to your right to go back. All you could think of was please don’t.
The next morning, you found the same scene. Jisung seating at the seat to your right. Then, he will flood you questions of how was your sleep, did you eat breakfast yet, and many more.
The next morning, it was still like that.
And the next.
And the next.
Soon, you found yourself being greeted every morning with a smiley Jisung. Your replies were never long enough for a long conversation but he somehow managed to find topics to ask you more questions. Often times you were subtly hinting that you want to brush him off but he doesn’t seem to notice. The attempts to push him off always dissolve in thin air so finally, you just let him be. Maybe it was his way of making friends.
You didn’t notice yourself expecting a Han Jisung by your seat until one morning, he wasn’t there. You scanned the room and saw him writing furiously in his seat, frequently looking at Felix’s paper who was also writing before copying what he saw onto his paper.
“Felix I can’t understand your handwriting.”
“You’re not in the position to complain.”
“Just move your tiny hands.”
Ah, he was doing his homework that the three forgot to do the night before. Jisung was trying his best to finish his damn homework as fast as possible. He still has something important to do. Good thing it was just five items. Five minutes before the first class, he was finally done. He shoved his paper to Felix and Seungmin who still weren’t, slammed his pen on the table then rushed to your seat. You looked up from your phone and saw him grinning, breathing slightly faster than normal. “I’m done with my homework. How was your sleep?”
That’s it. The moment he was waiting for. He had managed to make you crack a smile while saying, “Stupid.” His smile only growing wider in response.
Annoying you in the mornings apparently wasn’t enough for him. You decided to kill time after class in the library before you go home because you are 100% sure you’ll accept your bed’s tempting invitation. Your book was sprawled in front of you. Your headphones separating you from the rest of the world. Your feet was resting on top of the seat across you. You were focused on your assignment when the seat across you were pulled making you curse out loud. You removed your earphones and said sorry multiple times to the people around you. You looked hardly at Jisung: the boy behind the act. He was grinning, as always. “Sorry.” He said holding up a peace sign. He sat down and asked you “Why are you still here?” to which you only replied, “What do you want?”
He only blinked at you. You blinked back. “You’re not going home?”
“Later,” you replied shortly before going back to your work.
“Later? It’s eight?” You shot your head up at him. He was showing his phone which says it’s almost eight in the evening. You looked outside and realized it has already gotten dark. You immediately fixed your stuff and muttered a soft thank you before bolting through the door. Jisung quickly got up from his seat and caught up to you. “What’s wrong?” the both of you were walking-running out of the school grounds. “My next bus is at eight.” You said while huffing. You felt your hands being covered in warmth and then suddenly, you were running with Jisung leading you.
Both of you were panting when you reached the bus stop. Unfortunately, it was fifteen minutes past eight. Jisung sat down while huffing, you following him not soon after. Once you have regained your breath, you faced Jisung. “Sorry for making you run for nothing.” Jisung looked at you, smiled, before sitting up straight. “When’s the next one?”
“8:45”
“Oh. That’s only about 30 minutes,” he said after looking at his phone.
“You’re going to wait?”
“Yes.” He said giddily.
“Do you ride the same bus?”
“No.”
“When’s your bus?”
“9:00”
You silently said oh, realizing you assumed wrongly.
Silence fell soon as the both of you were too tired to talk until a question popped up in your head. “What were you doing in school at this hour?” He looked at you. “I was… uhm… I fell asleep.” He grinned widely. “Are you trying to befriend me?” You asked the question you were meaning to ask him for a while now. Jisung only looked at you for a while before answering, “can I?” It was now your turn to stare at him. “Who asks people for friendship permission these days?” You mumbled before looking away. However, Jisung heard it and laughed lightly.
The whole course of waiting, you realized Jisung is the type of man who never runs out of something to say. His brain must be working fast, you concluded. He would tell a story. You would laugh and then tell your own version. You didn’t notice the time fly so when your bus arrived, you were partly sad now that you will be alone again in silence. You stood up and only waved him a goodbye before running up to your bus. Jisung watched you with a smile on his face, watching as the bus drove out of his sight before he waited for a couple of minutes for his bus.
Days passed and you found yourself spending more time with Jisung or more like Jisung annoying the heck out of you. Apart from the morning talks and library rendezvous, Jisung started walking you to the bus stop. Sometimes he would say he saw on the way or he forgot to return something but most of the time, he just “hi” his way to walking you. He had also started joining you at lunch whenever your other friends were busy due to your schedule difference. Sometimes he would take something from your food then stuck his tongue out before devouring it. Sometimes you just want the soil to devour his whole existence. Most of the time you just want to slap him. When he failed to get your attention, he would throw a piece of paper at you. And you, in return, would throw him a much bigger piece of paper and he would end up laughing and getting his ass beaten by the teacher. It was your turn to stick your tongue at him.
It wasn’t really annoying if you think about it. It is just that you are easily annoyed and Jisung knew that better. So he continued annoying you in every little things until he was able to finally make you lose your cool.
It was the last day of ninth grade. Some were goofing around while some were decorating the room including Jisung, celebrating the end of the year. You were just in the corner waiting for your diploma, watching at how stupid your classmates look like. Boredom got into you so you decided to visit Luna, your other friend, in the other classroom. You stood up, about to exit the door when a snap of a scissor made you stop. You turned around and saw Jisung holding one with Felix and Seungmin at his back, the three of them frozen. You followed jisung’s gaze and noticed one side of your hair was shorter than the rest. He had accidentally cut a part of your hair to shoulder length.
You didn’t know if you were going to be furious or mad. It froze you as well, of course. Felix expected you to scream. Seungmin expected you to storm out. While Jisung -
“What the fuck?”
- expected you to say just that. The only thing he could mutter was “So-sorry.” You did storm out, Jisung following you after. You were walking fast when he grabbed your arm and made you face him. “Look, I am really really sorry. We were playing around and I saw you coming and I was about to use you as my shield from them but then…” He touched the hair he accidentally cut but you slapped his hand away. “I can accompany you to the salon.” He tried to offer as an act of apology. “I don’t want to be with you, though,” you turned around and continued walking to your friend’s classroom.
The day ended and you were walking to your bus stop alone this time. Your hair was tied behind your back by Luna who lend you her hairtie. Your head was hung low the whole time until you reached the bus stop and heard a familiar voice.
“Y/N I am really sorry.” Jisung said the moment he saw your figure.
“Stop it now.” You said without looking at him, sitting at the far end of the bench under the stop.
“I really have time today and I hope you do as well so I can accompany you to the salon. I’ll even pay-”
“Can I just ask why do you like bothering me so much?” you finally looked at him and cut him off his words. “It’s not just about the hair. You are literally sticking to my side ever since you moved here. You aren’t even like this to Felix or Seungmin. You appear everywhere I go like a mushroom. Seriously? Is it because of my so-called reputation?”
Taken aback, he looked at you with softness in his eyes. You couldn’t read what he was thinking and you were thankful that you couldn’t because the next words he said stunned you.
“I just.. I just like you.”
A leaf which fell exactly a centimeter away from your face snapped you out of your thoughts. How funny. You managed to memorize every single detail even if it was years ago. Years. All those years that passed since you left, you thought you have moved on. You thought wrong. You have tried different ways for your mind to not drift off to that man. But you couldn’t deny the butterflies it gave you whenever his annoying ass would appear in your thoughts. You could only laugh at how pathetic your situation looks like. You thought you were desperate to forget about him but maybe you weren’t desperate enough to burn the effects he had on you.
Out of nowhere, you felt the same butterfly that made you nervous. You stopped in your tracks when you realized what made them fly again. A laugh. You can hear steps approaching you accompanied by a laugh that was too familiar. A laugh that sounded so melodic and made you smile even if there was nothing to smile at. A laugh that you weren’t sure if you were ready to hear yet.
Fear and panic enveloped your body. You immediately dropped the leaf you were holding and grabbed your bag ready to leave until a familiar face was directly in front of you.
The butterflies intensified; your heart skipped a few beats.
The wind brushed past the both of you, sending you shivers.
But the only thing you felt was warmth.
The warmth that was Han Jisung.
#inkidz#districtninewriters#stray kids au#han jisung au#stray kids fluff#stray kids imagine#stray kids scenario#han jisung fluff#han x you#stray kids x reader#han jisung#stray kids#i finally posted it#not sure if i'm going to post the whole series tho#i feel like it's so... meh#so here's the supposedly chapter 1#still not sure what to do with it hehe
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@nyctoclad ah thank you! i was on the fence about posting them here since edits are not something i usually do, i’m glad you enjoyed them. luckily i was updating friend on my progress so i can share some wip states
i started with colour correction which is the easiest part, i grab a section i want to change with lasso tool and first i try hue/saturation adjustment, some places may also require brightness change, here in particular i think collar needed it to get to white, also those stripes of yellow cloth needed additional layer of yellow colour set to overlay on about 30% opacity because it’s hard o make murky brown look vibrant with adjustment alone
then i copy pasted all the extra elements i wanted, base for hair comes from Tav's Hair Salon mod, the hairstyle is called ‘Wavy Astarion Mix’ but i made it somewhat shorter, i also really wanted that curly, puffy feeling to be pronounced so i lassoed the curly strands and repeated them in a couple more places, the piercings and earrings are just png photos i found on the internet (i think i tried like three different earrings before i settled on these)
and it all ends with the most tedious/difficult but unfortunately important part: making sure added elements don’t stick out like a sore thumb
- for hair it was mostly about reintroducing some details so it looks realistic again, i used a coarse line brush to draw those little hairs that follow already established hair shape
- with earrings it was important to make them match light and colour situation in the screenshot since the original photo was very bright, it was mostly achieved with colour adjustments and overlays but on that earring i’m showing above i also lassoed parts of it on the right and filled with this blueish colour to link it to the secondary light you can see on the right side of the face
- for piercings a useful trick was using shadow in layer styles, it’s probably not the most graceful way of doing that but it’s easy and helps with your objects looking like they are part of the scene and not just awkwardly added stickers
the other edit had considerably less changes, his pupils i simply painted over with a brush, but i used a cool trick for the freckles since it’s always my goal to make them look somewhat like stars i literally just added a photo of starry sky and changed blending mode to screen since it makes black/dark colours invisible, i learned that from ‘Blending modes* explained for digital colorists‘ video on Color with Kurt channel
i hope there is something useful in this whole essay i just wrote haha or at least that it’s fun to see that every art process is a little messy and often involves winging things to see what looks good :)
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This is a video, Bucky. You’re recording.”
What? I opened the camera.”
Yeah and it’s a video.”
Oh whatever! C’mere we’re getting a picture.”
Back to my original point—”
Shut up and smile, Sam”
The sunlight is a warm yellow glow on their smiling faces. Bucky’s arm is draped over Sam’s shoulders and he leans in to plant a kiss on his cheek.
Sam can almost feel the warm press of Bucky’s lips as he replays the memory on his phone. The glow of the screen dully illuminating the dark hotel room.
Sam’s smile slips and his eyes widen with surprise. Bucky’s laughter rings out till it’s abruptly cut off when Sam grabs his face and kisses him. The image blurs, followed by a loud crack and muffled curse.
Sam smiles but his chest aches a little. His finger hovers over the screen to press play on the video again. Then the phone starts buzzing in his hand and a familiar face appears.
“You asshole, are you a mind reader now? I miss you.”
“Aw, Sam, babe you’re pinning already? Even after I called you this morning?”
“I’m not pinning!”
“I miss you, too. Why the fuck did you have to go away on your birthday? The boys and I ate a cake but they looked sad about it.”
“You ate a cake without me? Wow just rub it in that I couldn’t get out of this hooty tooty conference.”
“I guess world peace is sorta important. Don’t feel too bad though, they weren’t actually sad about it. They ate the whole cake and I promised them another when you got back.”
Sam tries to protest through his laughter. “Hey now, don’t get any ideas about points towards favorite uncle. That’s my title.”
“I’ve been favorite uncle, Sam, and you know it.”
“Why you gotta hurt me like this? I’ll have you know that Cass wrote ‘best uncle ever’ in his text to me this morning.”
“Traitor.”
Sam snickers. Their familiar chatter drains all the pent up tension of the day. Sam can feel the tightness of his shoulders ease, but that little ache in his heart is still too sharp. “Ah dammit, I still miss you.”
“Stop moping, Sam. Go enjoy your birthday!”
“Man, it’s not like there’s anything to do around here! Unless I wanna go to a shitty dive bar and order something in a language I don’t speak. End up having to choke down god knows what.”
“I’ve seen you drink a snake. I’m surprised anything still intimidates you.”
Sam makes a gagging sound. “Don’t remind me.”
“Well I know for a fact that there’s something you’ll love close by. C’mon get up, I’ll give you directions.”
“What?”
“C’mon Sam!”
Which is how Sam ended up walking through an unfamiliar city in the middle of the night, convinced Bucky was steering him in circles.
“You’re almost there.”
“You said that four blocks ago!”
“Relax, Sam. This way you get to stretch your legs and enjoy the sound of my voice at the same time.”
“Bucky—”
“On your left.”
“That’s my line!”
“What? Turn left, Sam.”
Sam rounded the corner of a yet another looming building and the space opened into a massive garden contained by an elaborate iron fence. A cobbled path stretched down it’s center through a tunnel of arches covered in roses. Lights were threaded through the branches, illuminating everything in hazy yellows. A slight breeze filled Sam’s nose with sweetness.
“Woah.”
“I woulda picked flowers for ya but given our situation, I had to bring you to the flowers.”
“This place is beautiful, Buck.” Sam’s voice is soft with awe as he walks down the path, admiring the curving vines of roses all around him. The flowers have bloomed in every color of the rainbow. “How’d you find it?” Sam reaches out to rub delicate blue petals between his finger and thumb.
“A brilliant invention I’ve been informed is called the internet.”
Sam snorts. “Course you would scrounge up the most absurdly romantic spot in the city from halfway across the world.”
“For you, Sam? Nothing less.”
Sam makes his way towards the center of the gardens. The path opens suddenly to a wide circle with a bubbling fountain at its center. Sam looks into its basin and the glint of copper coins wink back at him. He cranes his head to admire the night sky. The twinkle of stars just visible beyond the urban light.
“Oh,” he whispers. “Wow. You’d love this place.” The other end of the line stays quiet. “Bucky?” Sam glances at his phone to see the call has ended. He frowns, wondering if he lost signal.
“I can promise, Sam, that the whole scene is much prettier with you in it.”
Sam’s head snaps up at that familiar sound. Bucky steps out from behind a wall of roses. His eyes are crinkled in a bright smile.
“Hey, Angel.”
Sam breaks into a stupidly huge grin then launches himself into Bucky’s arms. His partner laughs and hugs him close.
“You’ve been gone, what, not even a week? Already miss me that much?”
Sam smirks and shrugs.
“I’d consider being embarrassed about it except that you literally researched where to find a fucking rose garden and then traversed an ocean just to tell me how pretty I am.”
Bucky strokes Sam’s cheek with his thumb and looks at him with near unbearable fondness.
“Can’t let you go forgetting it.”
Bucky leans in till their noses touch. Sam closes his eyes and breaths him in, relaxing into Bucky’s embrace.
“Can’t let you doubt for a second how loved you are.”
Bucky presses their foreheads together.
“You’re incredible, Sam. God, just—” Bucky huffs a laugh that sounds a little overwhelmed. “You’re always blowing my mind. When your eyes open in the morning, all warm and soft and already smiling. When you laugh so easily and it’s the best sound in the world. When you look at your nephews so proud like your heart’s gonna burst.” Bucky barely hears the fountain behind them or notices the sweetness in the air. All he can think of is Sam.
“You always stop and talk to the kids who recognize you, doesn’t make a difference if you’re exhausted, you always care about putting smiles on their little faces.” Bucky swallows against the emotion welling in his throat. “You always look out for your team. Even when shit hits the fan and we’re all scared, donno what’s coming. You hold it together and keep us safe, me ‘n Torres ‘n everyone.” He pauses to listen to Sam’s breathing and feel the warmth of it on his lips. “And when you’re sad, Sam, god you hate showing it. But still you let people in. Just crack your heart right open. You’re more honest than any of us deserve. But the way you see the world, the way you put hope in people, it’s such a fucking amazing gift you don’t even realize you’re giving.”
Sam moves just slightly and for once Bucky doesn’t want to be stopped with a kiss. He needs Sam to hear this, needs Sam to believe it. Bucky leans back and locks his gaze with Sam’s. Desperately, he tries to find the words.
“I try— I try to show you. How much you matter. How everything you do matters. I try to show you but I can’t keep up. I’ll never be able to keep up with you, Sam.” Bucky smiles even as he struggles to keep his voice steady.
“I try to tell you how much I love you but words fall short every time. I try to tell you how important you are and sometimes you still look surprised and that breaks my heart cause you gotta know, Sam. You gotta know.” Light catches the teardrops on Sam’s eyelashes and Bucky finally notices the emotion in his eyes. It knocks the air from his chest.
“You are so loved. And ‘course it’s not just me. So many folks look up to you! I always recognize the look in their eyes cause I know it.” Bucky cups Sam’s face and pauses just to admire him. “I know what it feels like to have a whole heart-full of Sam Wilson.”
They look at each other in silence for a breathless moment. Bucky looking at Sam like he hung every star in the sky, and Sam trying not to drown in that gaze. Then Sam smiles and wipes his eyes with the heel of his palm. Bucky melts at the sight of that tooth gap.
“Jesus, Bucky.” Sam sniffs. “You rehearse that?”
“Every day.”
Sam laughs a little and leans in to nuzzle Bucky’s cheek. “Well, I love it,” he whispers. “Means a lot, Bucky. And I love you.”
Bucky grins ear-to-ear. The press of Sam’s nose on his cheek makes his stupid stomach flip.
“Birthday kiss?”
Sam answers by pressing their lips together.
#there is no plot there is just bucky in love with sam#back on my gay shit#sambucky fic#onlysambucky
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Weekend With The Warners Chapter One - Animaniacs & Pinky and The Brain
Summary: When the CEO tasks Pinky and the Brain with the important task of watching over the Warners for the weekend, Brain is prepared for any antics that the children have in store. What he didn’t take into account was forming a familial bond with the kids.
Word Count: 1,868
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27849962
This is a found family story with a good combination of fluff, humor, and mild angst. Contains Brinky and Non-Binary Wakko
Beginning AN: This is probably the most self-indulgent story I’ve ever written
On a dark and stormy evening, a mysterious figure entered a castle that overlooked a provincial village. Deep inside the gothic estate’s stone walls, the figure snarled as he trudged up the winding stairs, leading to the top floor. He let out a vicious cry as he opened the large wooden doors to the laboratory.
Dr. Brainenstein, the lord of the castle, stood behind his chemistry set, the glass beakers obscuring his face. Upon hearing the door open, he dropped his studies and gazed upon the visitor with an eager smile.
“Ah, Pigor, you’ve returned!” Dr. Brainenstein greeted his assistant with a confident grin. The scientist emerged from his chemistry set to reveal himself. He wore a fancy black coat, a satin purple shirt underneath a white collared shirt, and black pants.
The monstrous shadow revealed to be a lanky and chipper mouse wearing a brown hood and a muted yellow tunic. “‘Ello, Dr. Brainenstein!” Pigor replied merrily, waving to his boss. The mouse carried a large brown sack with something moving about.
Dr. Brainenstein slid down the table leg and eagerly approached his assistant. “How was the graveyard scavenging?” He inquired menacingly, whilst rubbing his hands.
Pigor strained as he carried the large sack with his findings. “Oh, brilliant!” He cheerily answered. “You know, you would be surprised what the dead leave lying around.”
“By the way, I’ve probably been in here a thousand times, but I’m always amazed at how beautiful your castle is!” Pigor complimented.
“Thank you, Pigor.” Dr. Brainenstein acknowledged. “I employed only the top masons. Those schooled in the latest techniques of wall-stone craft.”
The scientist curtly shoved his assistant off to the side. “Now, let’s see what you brought me!”
Dr. Brainenstein eagerly opened the sack, expecting a horde of body parts for his latest scientific experiment, but was surprised to see the Warner children. Yakko, Wakko, and Dot huddled together and smiled at the mouse.
“Hi!” They chorused, but Wakko belched loudly, blowing the scientist’s fur and jacket backwards like a strong gust of wind.
“Sorry.” Wakko apologized, their cheeks turning a bright shade of pink.
At that moment, Pinky and The Brain broke character and started laughing. The Warners soon joined in, and the five rode out their bout of laughter together.
“Oh, classic Wakko.” Brain sighed as he wiped a tear from his eye.
Pinky went by Brain’s side and wrapped his arm around the smaller mouse’s shoulder and turned towards the camera. “You better add this to the blooper reels! Zort!”
But the primal yell from the director brought the joyous moment to a halt. The five actors immediately huddled together as they were about to face the wrath of the man in the director’s chair.
“What is this?” The director irately shouted.
“Hey, Wellesley! Hope you don’t mind the surprise cameo!” Yakko replied with a playful smile to humor the irascible filmmaker.
“Yeah, we just wanted to give our favorite mice a surprise visit.” Dot explained as she gently patted their heads. Pinky contentedly closed his eyes and began tapping his foot a mile a minute upon receiving the girl’s affection. Brain, too, was endeared by the Warner sister’s pats and smiled at her.
“So I ate all the potatoes and we hopped into this sack!” Wakko concluded, happily stimming by flapping their hands around.
“But the script says for Pigor to carry a large sack of potatoes and have Dr. Brainenstein to open up the sack and be squished by a pile of potatoes!” Wellesley angrily explained. “Now can someone get those pesky kids out of here and get back to the scene!”
But before any of the crew members could intercede, Brain stepped forward, taking a defiant stand against the director. “Forgive me if what I’m about to say comes off as a crushing blow to your fragile ego, but I wholeheartedly disagree with your creative vision.” Brain argued. “I say we should keep the Warners in the short.”
The intelligent mouse quickly retrieved the script from his coat pocket. “And one other minor criticism I have with the script is that I find the ‘wall-stone-craft’ pun to be awfully misleading.” Brain added with a stern frown. “While Mary Wollstonecraft was an illustrious writer, she did not pen the classic gothic novel Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus. Her daughter, Mary Shelley, wrote the book that this segment is parodying.”
“Hey, the studio isn’t paying you to be a walking history book.” The director fired back. “And besides, potatoes are very funny.”
“Perhaps in Idaho, but having a cameo appearance from the Warners would be keeping in the comedic spirit of Animaniacs in regards to rapid-fire visual gags.” Brain argued. “The kids are staying in the short, and that’s final!”
Unbeknownst to The Brain, the Warners smiled as they watched their fellow co-worker stand up for them and make a compelling case for their inclusion.
Pinky then rushed over to Brain’s side and faced the director. “Can the Warners stay in the segment? Pretty please, Mr. Director?” Pinky pleaded, using his best puppy dog eyes and simpering pout.
Wellesley rubbed his forehead and gave in. “Alright, we’ll use the Warners, but the ‘wall-stone-craft’ pun stays. Now can we get back to filming please!”
Brain smugly smiled, satisfied with the compromise. He then turned to face his dearest co-star. “Well Pinky, it appears that my excellent debate skills and your irresistible cuteness have saved comedy yet again.” Brain complimented, ruffling the taller mouse’s head. Pinky relished the small and gentle display of affection from Brain.
“Aww, I thought I was the cute one!” Wakko sadly interjected. Dot merely rolled her eyes at her sibling’s protest.
“Places people!” The director yelled.
“Come on, sibs.” Yakko said as he stood up. His younger sibling followed suit and the three pulled up the potato sack and hopped their way towards the door entrance. Pinky followed the Warners and Brain immediately returned to his place behind the laboratory equipment.
- - - - -
Filming the rest of the segment went smoothly for the mice. Brain was able to ad-lib his rant after seeing the Warners in the sack, comparing their cameo to ‘layman’s detritus’. The mice were able to strike up a friendly rapport with the actress who played Drusilla in between takes. They listened to her fascinating background starting out as an extra on daytime soaps before making the move to horror movies and acting with heavy special effects make-up. Brain also managed to work in some improvisation near the final scene where he almost smooched his assistant in an earnest attempt to comfort him, knowing that the viewers would have a field day with that moment.
Once they wrapped up filming the segment, Pinky and The Brain collected their paychecks and made their way through the Warner movie lot, holding hands as they strolled through the studio together. After years of wrestling with his repressed emotions and attending many therapy sessions, Brain finally professed his love to Pinky, and Pinky happily reciprocated his romantic feelings to Brain. The two started their courtship four months before they received the news that they would be returning to Animaniacs for the reboot.
Brain ignored the curious stares from the other workers on the studio lot, instead focusing his attention on his hand, which was interlaced with Pinky’s. This was all so new to him. He was trying his best to navigate the challenging terrains of a serious romantic relationship. Thankfully, Pinky was ever so gentle and understanding with him. The taller mouse possessed strong emotional intelligence and he was able to help Brain let his guard down and help him come to terms with his own emotions. The smaller mouse was still slowly getting used to public displays of affection from Pinky.
Pinky recognized Brain’s nervousness and started to make small-talk to keep his mind occupied. “Oh, that ‘Bride of Pinky’ segment was so much fun, Brain!” The buck-toothed mouse proclaimed.
“Indeed it was” Brain politely replied with a small smile.
“And your improv was on point!” Pinky praised. “Dr. Brainenstein trying to kiss Pigor after the loss of his monster wife was brilliant!”
“Well, your performance was believable as always, Pinky.” Brain kindly complimented.
“Yeah, I’m glad those last couple segments were more on the fun and heartwarming side.” Pinky added.
Brain nodded his head. He was still bitter at the writers who penned that dreaded ‘Mousechurian Candidate’ script for a number of reasons. The material had angered him, but deeply disturbed Pinky to the point that he had been hiding himself in his trailer after each scene. Brain and Julia did their best to reassure their poor co-worker that they were only acting. But once they had received the scripts for ‘The Babysitter’s Flub’ and ‘Bride of Pinky’, Brain was relieved that the following segments focused on the comedic and affectionate relationship the two leads shared. This renewed Brain’s hope that the reboot would manage to retain the magic of the original series.
Meanwhile, the Warners bounced around the movie lot, looking for a way to let out their energy. Yakko spotted Pinky and The Brain walking together. He stopped Wakko and Dot and gestured over to their co-stars. The three made one long leap towards the mice.
“Hey, fellas!” Yakko greeted. “Listen, we just wanna thank you two for vouching for us earlier.”
“We really appreciate you two standing up for us.” Wakko added.
“Oh, your welcome.” Brain said. “It’s awfully rare that we cross paths in the show, but Pinky and I welcome your enthusiastic presence.”
“Personally, I’ve always been an admirer of your sophisticated wit and earnest comedic chemistry.” Dot complimented.
Pinky looked bashfully at Dot. “Zort! Oh you’re far too kind!”
“Oh, I have something important to tell you two.” Wakko announced. “So I told my siblings this a while back, and I want you to know that I’m Non-Binary!” The middle child turned their hat around to reveal the pin of the Non-Binary flag on the front of their cap.
“Egad, you have zero binaries? Why that’s incredible!” Pinky exclaimed as he eagerly shook Wakko’s hand.
“That’s wonderful, Wakko.” Brain congratulated. “And could you kindly inform us of your pronouns?”
“I currently use he/they pronouns.” Wakko answered.
“Well, Pinky and I are very happy for you.” Brain kindly told the middle child.
“Aw, thanks!” Wakko said with a sincere smile. Yakko playfully ruffled his sibling’s head, causing Wakko to give their older brother a soft shove.
“Well, as much as I would love to converse with you further, Pinky and I need to go to the bank to deposit our checks, and return to the lab to discuss our plans for world domination.” Brain explained, tugging his taller partner along. “See you soon, children!”
“Bye-bye kiddies!” Pinky addressed the kids with a friendly wave.
“Bye!” The Warners chorused before bouncing about on their merry way back to the water tower.
Unbeknownst to the mice and the Warners, they were being watched by Warner Brothers CEO, Nora Rita Norita, from the top floor of the WB office building. The businesswoman looked through the blinds and noticed the great rapport between the five actors.
She flashed a menacing smile before releasing her grip from the blinds.
Additional AN: So this chapter is mostly set up, establishing the friendly rapport between the Warners and the mice.
Like my previous story, Those We Hold Dear, Pinky and the Brain work as actors and that most of the segments were filmed on the Warner movie lot (the period piece ones like How to Brain Your Dragon, Pinko and the Brain, Bride of Pinky, 1001 Narfs, and I added Mousechurian Candidate because of how poorly executed it was and the writers really did those characters dirty. And I was inspired by a post by @themurphyzone about episode 8 while referencing that episode in the story. While other segments like Ex-Mousina and Roadent Trip will be referenced later on in the story, occurred in-universe.
And I chose to start the story with the characters filming Bride of Pinky because I loved that little cameo from the Warners and thought it would be fun to play around with the idea of what went on behind the scenes. Also, I decided to expand on that director who kept yelling when something went wrong while filming, and decided to name him Wellesley after the one of the producers of the reboot, Wellesley Wild.
I also made the self-indulgent inclusion that Brain finally attended therapy because I love that grumpy little mouse and I wanted to at least have some of his emotional issues straightened out.
As of now, this multi-chapter story is mostly complete, and I just need to add in some details in certain scenes, so I will do my best to post new chapters frequently.
Thanks for reading!
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