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notstilinski · 2 years

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Fangirl Starters !

Taken from the 2013 novel by Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl! Some of these have already been edited. You can change them however you see fit!

“It’s like a hospital room, but smaller. And without a TV.”

“God. Okay. This isn’t that bad. There’s actually nothing wrong, actually. What’s wrong, (Name)? Nothing.”

“Not nerds who join fraternities. That’s a whole subclass of nerds that I’m not interested in.”

“Would you rather I dated someone like (Name)? So we can both stay up crying every weekend.”

“That moment when you realize someone’s looking at you differently—that you’re taking up more space in their field of vision. That moment when you know they can’t see past you anymore.”

“I’m on drugs. They’re a beautiful thing.”

“I feel sorry for you, and I’m going to be your friend.”

“I’m sorry you ruined it by being pathetic.”

“Your neighbor with the pink Ugg boots keeps coming out to talk to me. Have mercy.”

“Maybe I’m really gothy and dark but only on certain days.”

“You didn’t borrow (Name). You kidnapped him and raised him as your own.”

“You don’t rock the Little Red Riding Hood vibe. You’re scary.”

“Who wants you to go to Frat parties? I was just kidding. Don’t hang out with frat guys, (Name), they’re terrible. All they do is get drunk and watch 90210.”

“Me? You look like you need fresh DNA.”

“I look like this because I’m alive. Because I’ve had experiences. Do you understand?”

“You’re a sad little hermit, and it creeps me out. So get dressed. We’re going bowling.

“I think there’s a baby in the corner that you forgot to kiss.”

You’re breaking up with me because I’m not smart enough?”

“I don’t want you to get charm all over them—what is we can’t get it out?”

“You’re not the ugly one. You’re just the Clark Kent.”

“You look tarred and sweatered.”

“There are at least seven taco trucks. All within a two mile radius.”

“Why do I have to sit down? I don’t want to have to sit down.”

“Sometimes you held somebody’s hand just to prove that you were still alive, and that another human being was there to testify to that fact.”

“Do you ever feel like you’re a black hole—a reverse black hole…”

“And then I left them—completely wasted—with a stranger and a moron.”

“Oh. Too bad. He was super cute. Farm boy.”

“I don’t exist to amuse you, you know.”

“”And what are you looking for anyway? Maybe if you told me, I could help you find it, and then we could both go inside and avoid death by drowning, freezing, or torn jugular.”

“I brought you an eggnog latte. And I’ve been keeping it warm in my mouth.”

“Working on this client is like making my brain dig its own grave.”

“Jesus. What have I ever done to make you this mean to me?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize we were having a serious conversation until we were.”

“I just feel like it’s too much, what you’re doing for me. Bordering on exploitive.”

“I thought you were just mean. I liked that about you.”

“No, seriously. Look at you. You’ve got your shit together, you’re not scared or anything. I’m scared of everything. And I’m crazy. Like maybe you think I’m a little crazy, but I only ever let people see the tip of my crazy iceberg. Underneath this center or slightly crazy and socially inept, I’m a complete disaster.”

“I’m a pretty good friend, but I’m a shitty partner.”

“Jesus. Why do you have to kick the door open every single time you come home?”

“This is why people think we’re crazy perverts.”

“Smiling is confusing. This is why I don’t do it.”

“I’m not going to leave you alone in a hospital waiting room.”

“Why are you always feeding me?”

“You know what I mean. Are you the person that everybody calls when they need help? Because they know you’ll say yes?”

“If it tries to take you, I won’t let go.”

“That’s the ultimate kind of broken. The kind of damage you never recover from. I hope they feel terrible. I hope they never forgive themselves.”

“You’re not going to throw your life away to take care of me.”

“Just… Isn’t giving up allowed sometimes? Isn’t it okay to say, ‘This really hurts, so I’m going to stop trying’?”

“God, I don’t know, probably anointing her first boyfriend.”

“But there’s nothing more profound than creating something out of nothing.”

“It means… I really like you. Like, really like you. And I want that kiss to have been the start of something. Not the end.”

“I mean, I spent four months trying to kiss you and the last six weeks trying to figure out how I managed to fuck everything up. All I want now is to make it right, to make you see how sorry I am and why you should give me another chance. And I just want to know—are you rooting for me? Are you hoping I pull this off?”

“I decided not to kill you in your sleep. Happy Christmas.”

“I panicked. I thought that if you knew how much kissing you meant to me… it would seem even worse that I kissed another girl.”

“Because I felt like such an asshole. I’m not used a o being the asshole—I’m usually Dudley Do-Right, you know?”

“It means (Name) is a great person. And they always fall for people who are a complete pain in the ass.”

“What is wrong with you? If I woke you up like this, you’d murder me.”

“I know. But you’re helpless sometimes. It’s like watching a kitten with its head trapped in a Kleenex box.”

“My plan is to do things that make you want to hang out with me again tomorrow. What’s your plan?”

“I knew you’d like it. Play your cards right, and I’ll bring you back during the high season.”

“You flirt with everything. You flirt with old people and babies and everybody in between.”

“You’re extra nice. With everyone. You go out of your way to make everyone feel special.”

“And I repeat, you’re nice to everybody. You give away nice like it doesn’t cost you anything.”

“I’m not you. Making people happy makes me feel good. If anything, it gives me more energy for the people I care about.”

“This is obviously about me needing a mother figure.”

“If (Name) we’re a dog, they’d be a golden retriever. If they were a game, they’d be Ping-Pong, incessant and bouncing and light.”

“Would you prefer ‘honey’? That reminds me of my mom… What about ‘baby’? No. ‘Loveboat’? ‘Kitten’? ‘Rubber duck’? You know what? I’m sticking with ‘sweetheart.’”

“Don’t make me angry-kiss you.”

“I didn’t want to let you down. Think I’ll feel worse if I actually kill you…”

“In the right light, you are such a nerd.”

“You shouldn’t reward me for endangering your life, you know. Think of the precedent you’re setting.”

“I finally get you up to a room, and now we’re talking about my ex-girlfriend and my mom.”

“Don’t make me yell at you in front of company.”

“They tried to get me to ride with them. They’re allergic to solitude.”

“I’m making it about me. It’s not my job to want you or not want you. It’s not my job to earn you.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be the reason you choke on your own vomit.”

“I’d give you the moon right now.”

“Good. I’m fulfilling my role as your nemesis.”

“You scared me last night. And I decided that I never want to drift that far from you again. What if you died? And I hadn’t talked to you for three months?”

“For my verdict. I’m about to go all King Solomon on your asses.”

“Don’t talk to me about life, kid. You’ve shown complete disregard for your life.”

“You’re incessantly good to me.”

“To your den of iniquity.”

“Are you kidding? I’m the untrustworthy person in this relationship. I’m all hands.”

“I’m glad you still plan to kill me the old fashioned way—but you have to admit that this is hard on you.”

“It was okay… They wouldn’t stop licking my ear—I think they might have an ear fetish. And you don’t even want to know what they did to my chin.”

“You know I’m falling in love with you, right?”

“Are you Zach, or are you Cody?”

“Happily ever after, or even just together ever after, is not cheesy. It’s the noblest, like, the most courageous thing two people can shoot for.”

“I can’t decide if you love me, or this room.”

“Don’t argue with me. You’re beautiful.”

“Flawed logic. Miserably flawed.”

“How do you even know when you’re anywhere near marrying someone? Is that a question about time? Distance?”

“I’m too hungry to rage. Do you mind if we stop somewhere?”

“I can still remember the night they came home with their first My Little Pony tattoos.”

“It’s like your drinking blood if blood had the consistency of gravy.”

“I don’t understand how you could throw this class away twice. I have to fight for every grade I get—I’d kill for a second chance at most of my classes. And you’re just walking away from this assignment because you don’t feel like it, because you’ve got this arbitrary deadline, and it’s all you can see.”

“I can’t believe I said that. I can’t even go nine hours without seeing you.”

“If you leave, I’m going with you.”

“They’re both crying. I can’t even watch.”

“I was planning to despoil you later. But if you want, we can do that first.”

#rp meme #roleplay meme #sentence starters #starter sentences #sentence meme #ask meme #ask prompts #inbox memes #inbox prompts #novel sentence starters #i forgot how much i enjoyed this book ...

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bellamer · 1 year

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I rushed to finish her but this is my Spooky Month OC, Nisa Yuuna

Nisa was a pretty normal person until she was about 8 years old, when her family was in a car accident, where a semi truck hit her family's car head on. She suffered a traumatic brain injury and had to be put in a coma.

She woke up a few months later and everything was normal, until she had her first real meal and it tasted terrible. No matter what she ate, it all tasted like shit, causing her to vomit. The doctors were slumped as to why this happened and didn't know how to reverse it, putting her through every kind of therapy and procedure, having her survive off of vitamins, supplements and iv fluids until they could come up with a cure.

One day, when she was 9, she was playing with her neighbors kid, when he fell and scraped his elbow. Seeing the blood, Nisa felt an indescribable urge and was so overcome with hunger, that she blacked out

When she came to again, her parents and her neighbors parents were screaming, trying to pry her off of the boys arm, several chunks of flesh missing, as her teeth ripped into him. After this mishap, her parents, not knowing what to do, placed her into a mental hospital.

After that, she had an insatiable craving for flesh and blood, never forgetting the taste. She knew it was wrong and hated what she had become, but she couldn't help it and wanted more. One day, when she was 13, she got wind that one of the other patients at the mental hospital had died and snuck into their cell before their body could be taken to the morgue and ripped into their flesh, the hunger that had plagued her disappearing with each bite.

Unfortunately, she was caught by the orderlies and made a daring escape. Since she was small because of the lack of nutrients she was getting, she escaped through the vents and ran away.

When she was about sixteen, the hunger clawed at her so badly that she had the idea to sneak into hospital morgues and steal the corpses to satisfy her cravings and became known as the 'Morgue Snatcher'

At age 25, she was doing her usual routine when she happened upon the corpse of Bob Velseb and figured that since he was such a big guy, he'd last her a while and hauled his body back to her hideout to cut him up and stash him in her deep freezer.

Unfortunately for her, Bob wasn't dead, his heartbeat and pulse were just slowed significantly and dragging the big guy to her hideout made his heart kickstart, so when she crawled on top of Bob to start the process, he woke up and they both screamed.

Nisa explained that she thought he was dead and he asked what she was planning to do to him. Not being able to come up with a reasonable explenation as to why she stole his body from the morgue, she hesitantly explained that she was hungry and was planning to eat him, explaining her situation and her need for human meat, making him laugh, as she begged him not to rat her out, offering to fix his wounds if he stayed silent.

He told her that they were more alike than she thought, except that he preferred his meat fresh and that he'd show her a thing or two about hunting for food, telling her that she'd never go hungry again as long as she kept him around.

Which then began the start of an absolutely deranged partnership.

Some facts:

- Although fresh meat tastes better, she hates the killing aspect, which is why she steals her food from morgues, even though most times, they're already drained of blood.

- Morgue corpses taste more like frozen TV dinners to her, which she doesn't mind but it gets tiring after a while.

- She prefers to eat cooked meat but because of limited supplies and time, she ends up eating it raw most of the time, but she doesn't mind the taste, it's like eating sushi to her.

- She detests Bob at first because she claims that he kills and eats people to get off on it while she eats already dead people because she needs to survive off it, but comes to the terms that she and Bob are more alike than she likes to admit.

- She and Bob have a deal that, as long as she doesn't have to kill the people and he does the killing, she'll help dismember them and prepare them, as long as they share the corpse.

- She later finds out that she can actually tolerate the taste of candy, particularly the taste of hard candies, but she can't survive on them and she doesn't get nutrients from them.

- Bob thinks of her as his soulmate and that fate brought them together, especially since they're both cannibals and the fact that he woke up when she was going to eat him.

- Cooking regular food with human meat actually makes the food palatable to her at times. Like if she cooked a human liver and onions, the onions taste good because they were cooked with the liver, same goes with seasonings and sauces. It also gives her a sense of normality, eating the meat all prepared like it's a regular dish instead of eating it just straight from the body. She gets miffed when Bob will sometimes disturb her cooking process to try to steal a finger or eyeball to snack on raw, since Bob stopped caring for normalcy long ago.

- Even though Bob doesn't care about normalcy, he still has some old recipes he used to have to disguise his human meat as regular meat and will make them for Nisa. Hamburgers, BBQ ribs, blood wine, steak, blood sausage, headcheese, even chitlins made from human intestines.

- Nisa has a rule that no part of the body must go to waste and that they have to come up with a use or recipe for each limb and organ, mostly due to her starving for a good part of her life and having to take and save what she could get.

- Bob was surprised and quite jealous when Nisa told him that she had eaten several human brains without getting kuru. He's always wanted to try a brain but was too scared of the risks.

- At first she thought she was a zombie but her organs still work, blood pumps through her veins, she's warm and she still breaths so that was quickly crossed off. No one knows wrong with her, just that her brain was somehow rewired after the accident and the coma.

- The eye necklace she wears sometimes blinks.

#bob velseb spooky month #bob spooky month #spooky month tender treats #spooky month 5 #spooky month #spooky month oc #bob velseb x oc #bob velseb x self insert #bob velseb #bob velseb sm #black oc #sir pelo

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deathlessathanasia · 8 months

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"Historians of religion, who in general have little truck with ambiguities, have tried to resolve the situation by making it disappear. The procedure is simple. You begin by listing the episodes and elements of ritual that argue for harmony between Hera and the hero; there are, in fact, a few. Then you invent a forgotten prehistory in which the hero in fact owes his name to his role as consort of the goddess. The restoration of a lost pedigree is an amusingly simple (and unverifiable) solution. Among other things, it eliminates the tensions that clearly constitute Greek mythic thought in the historic period, when we can observe such thought in action. The historian of the imaginary is concerned with the lived experience of the Greeks, not with the mirage of a past that seems all the more precious for being irretrievably lost.

Philological analysis has likewise gone off in search of a prehistory, though along slightly different paths. According to the dubious inferences typically drawn from etymology, Hera presides over that ideal of youthful accomplishment whose representative in every city in remote Mycenaean times was simply called "heros." Herakles then emerged as a privileged specimen of these heroes, who were already closely associated with the goddess. But this analysis must be kept within its limits, which are precisely those of etymology. Even if linguistic phenomena actually do preserve the traces of a lost state of society, there is no justification for treating the complex of myths surrounding Herakles as a "religious misinterpretation" that turned the original solidarity of the two protagonists into hostility. We would end up trying to support the untenable hypothesis that everything that has been said of Herakles from Homer to our own time is nothing but misinterpretation. But with reference to what truth?

We must accept the fact that by clinging to the idea of the reconciliation of the two adversaries or by postulating an underlying truth betrayed by history we forget what is really important. We forget that one of the recurrent themes of Greek myth and religion is the antagonism, for better or worse, between a hero and a divinity, against a complex background of affinity and hostility. Akhilleus makes no sense without Apollo, and in the same way Herakles is a figure who, both in dejection and in triumph, is simultaneously linked to the wife of Zeus and to glory. Let us look again at the name of the hero. The very reversibility of the name of Herakles argues for maintaining that ambivalence; he is simultaneously "glorious through Hera" and "he through whom glory comes to Hera." We are obliged, then, to treat the tension between the two translations as richly meaningful for the Greeks. Any alternative would be simplistic, in that it would run the risk of forgetting along the way that neither Hera nor Herakles is a simple figure: the goddess, a strange and disturbing spouse, embodies the ambivalence of the Greek male toward his wife (a necessary but terrible evil, frequently pictured in fantasy as possessing masculine power); the hero, whose surface constitutes his being, has experienced all the transmutations of strength into its opposite. We must accept that there is a tight bond, expressed primarily as hostility, between the goddess of marriage and the divine bastard with his vast matrimonial experience."

- Herakles: The Super-Male and the Feminine by Nicole Loraux, in Before Sexuality: The Construction of Erotic Experience in the Ancient Greek World

#hera #herakles #heracles #quotes #excerpts

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mustangblood · 1 year

Video

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#youtube

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forbidden-creepypasta · 6 months

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HOME

This is a story I wrote a few weeks back for a website, tell me what ya think!

HOME

You walk past a couple in the dark. The man turns to you.... ...And screams. The woman sees you and screams. The couple runs away as if the devil himself were on their heels. You see a murky reflection of yourself in the glass of a dimly illuminated phone booth. The ravages of rot run a diseased pilgrimage across your face. Gleaming white bone is visible in between the putrescence. You are dead. You were at one point a man, what kind of man though? What kind of man dies in the streets? You look back into your reflection, you’re in a suit. It’s wrinkled torn and dirty, you were a business man.

It’s all coming back to you now; you were mugged, but when? How long have you called this alley your home? You stumble out into the cool night air; you’re remembering bits and pieces of your life. You stumble into the street and are narrowly avoided by an oncoming truck. He honks and hollers out some sort of expletive, you can barely hear him.

You’re a father, a young boy; your rotting brain remembers the name Harry. Is that your name or the boy’s name? Hunger pains hit you hard, a moan, deep and guttural escapes your throat.

Go home. That’s all you can think, go home. You trip, stumble, and drag your way home.

You’ve made it. It’s your house, a few lights are on in your middle class home but it’s one solitary flickering light on the second floor that catches your attention. It’s your son’s room, it’s Harry’s room. You push on the door, not quite being able to grasp the handle. You’re so excited to see your son again.

Clambering your way up the stairs your shoes make a sick wet sound with each step. What’s that smell? It’s terrible. At the stop of the steps now, you look down the hallway one of the doors is cracked open the flickering light is visible through the slit between the door and frame. You attempt a smile as you walk towards the door; your skin splays itself across your broken, rotten teeth.

It hurts badly, no blood spills forth though. Your throat lets out a slight gurgle from the pain. Your macabre smile still is plastered on your face as you make your way to the room. A noise is coming from behind the door; you push your way into the room. That smell is terrible, it seems to be following you. You knew that noise was unfamiliar for the terrain as you see a buxom redhead ride a fat middle aged balding businessman. Businessman just like you, he’s naked though.

How is he a businessman if he’s naked? Your mind won’t give up the thought though. He’s like you, he’s a businessman. The redhead, riding the businessman like a reverse cowgirl opens her eyes and looks up. Did she smell that smell to? She falls backwards off the chubby man, who is still sprawled and sweaty on the bed. Her naked, sweaty body glistens in the blue light of the TV. The fat man starts yelling at you, you can’t understand him though. This is your house, remember? The sweaty redhead with the big tits must be your wife; this fat fuck is fucking your wife in your son’s bedroom! Rage fills your dead rotting body, you burst forward and oh my God does it hurt. Your body begins screaming at you. It feels like your every tendon, ligament, and muscle in your body is popping and ripping off the bone.

You don’t care, you slam full force into the fat businessman, and briefly you think he might be Italian. What’s Italian? You don’t know but your rotting brain mumbles to you, he’s Italian. The businessman is shouting from underneath you, his face is straining and turning red, like her hair. The girl with the red hair, you think you can hear her shouting behind you.

Focus, you need to focus. He’s calling you something, the fat man; he’s calling you Harry, that can’t be right though. That’s your son’s name, you must be Harry Senior. You lean forward and with one massive bite you take off the fat Italians nose and top lip. His skins pops and stretches as you pull away from the bite, like a mozzarella stick, like an Italian. Are mozzarella sticks Italian? What’s Italian? The man is Italian. He’s bleeding and shaking underneath you.

Your mouth opens again and you bite into his throat, his throat tears open quickly. You suck his throat meat down your throat; blood begins to dump from his throat hole. His violent motions knock you off the bed; you slowly begin to pull yourself back up. The room smells worse now; the fat Italian must have shit himself. You use the sheets to pull yourself up, you slip, mouth open, your face slams into his bulbous distended belly. Broken, rotting teeth gnash their way into his belly fat; the smell gets worse as you begin to chew through the layers of his gut.

The redhead is screaming in the bathroom, the fat Italian is dead like you now. That smell is still terrible. You haven’t got used to it quite yet.

You don’t care about her; you came to see your son. Harry Junior. You lumber your way towards the door, she seems to know where you’re going, she attempts an interception. She’s going to cut you off. You turn towards her quickly, mouth open, you take a big chunk out of her throat. She slams back into the wall, blood spraying from her neck. You lurch forward, tripping slightly, you fall face first into her right breast. With one big bite you take half of it. Her tit is now a blood fountain. You push your way into the hallway.

He’s a cute kid, shivering and whimpering on his bed. You don’t know why he’s shaking. You’re his Dad; he shouldn’t be scared of his Dad. He doesn’t let you get close; he quickly attempts to make his way out of the room. You’re offended; you catch the boy by his throat before he’s past you. You sink your fingers into his neck. You’ll teach him a lesson, he won’t disrespect his old. Your fingers pop through the skin of his neck. Blood rushes of his new neck holes and past your filthy, rotting, dead fingers. Not a whimper, not a shake, the boys just falls to the ground. Dead. Just like you, his Dad, Harry…

Wait…You’re starting to remember, you don’t live here. This was your co-worker Anthony’s house. His wife. His kid. You aren’t home.

Go home. That’s all you can think about, go home. You won’t rest, you won’t stop until you are home.

Credit to: PleaseStopMe

#creepypasta #creepy stories #horror microfiction #horror fiction

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sparkarrestor · 7 months

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Traintober Day 8: Squawk Shock

Written By: SparkArrester

Bill & Ben were feeling put-upon. A large order of china clay had caused them to be put in overtime, and the worst part of it was that they couldn't pull any jokes, japes, or good natured tomfoolery in days! Their manager tried to keep them calm and entertained, but as time went on, the urge for mischief grew in the twins.

“It’s terrible Bill!” Began Ben one night, “It took every pound of metal in my body not to reverse under the hoppers!”

‘I know!” Comforted Bill, “Life’s been so boring these past few weeks! It's a good thing there’s only a week or two of hard work for us! I’ve got a bucket-list of good stress relievers…”

“But Bill! I don’t think I can wait much longer! I have to do something!”

“...yeah, I definitely cannot wait anymore. We’re going down to Brendam tomorrow, but that begs the question: who shall be the victim…?”

The twins smiled deviously as they went over their targets. But as they went down the list, those smiles dissipated faster than a wisp of smoke. Timothy would be too easy, Marion would be oblivious to anything and everything, Cranky was low-hanging fruit, and BoCo would probably murder them. That left only one possible candidate without heading to the main-line.

“Are you sure Bill?

“Positive.”

“But when was the last time we got him?”

“The day we arrived.”

“That was 3 decades ago!”

“All the more reason to get him!”

The twins simply couldn’t fall asleep after that, and they stayed up all night, planning on a way to get Edward the Blue Engine.

The next morning, Edward was sizzling happily at the harbor station. He was just about to come off of his train and get to the sheds when, creaking and groaning, a line of trucks came crawling past him, with no engine to move them! Timothy, who was on the other line, yelped and banged into some wagons, but Edward just laughed.

“It’s been a while, you two! I can see you’re bringing your A-Game into this!”

Bill and Ben came out of their hiding place and snorted.

“Us, play tricks on you? Don’t be silly Edward.”

Of course, the expression on Ben’s face and the deadpan delivery betrayed everything.

“Come on you two, you’ll get a rest in a week or two! Surely you can wait that long!”

“No. No we can’t”

“So all bets are off then?”

“Yes. Yes they are.”

Edward just smiled.

“Ah well. Good luck to you two!”

“Thanks Edward!”

“Ben, shush!”

The twins tried all sorts of tricks. They tried adding more wagon’s to Edward’s trains. They tried hiding themselves on his trains with their brakes hard on. They even tried making him a middle engine! But nothing seemed to work. Worse still, each of their schemes took a while to prepare with their workload, so half the time, Edward could guess what they were doing anyways. The twins weren’t the only ones on edge however. Edward was beginning to get tired of always being on guard for any of the twin’s tricks. It got to the point of affecting his work.

“You should stand your ground Edward.” said BoCo a few days later, “Or else it will never end!”

“I know BoCo… but”

“But nothing! I get that the twins need to let out some stress, believe me I’ve gone giddy seeing them scurry round, but boundaries must be set!”

As the two engines were discussing, another pair of engines were also scheming in the night.

“Should we do it?”

“Why not Ben?”

“It seems unfair to weaponize his weakness” “And your point is…?

“...Nevermind. But what about the clay pits? We left the work-half finished!”

“Eh, we can do it later! Now let's get some sleep!”

The next day, Edward was once again at the harbor station as he heard the whistles of Bill and Ben. He sighed and prepared for any tricks, but he was surprised to see something else.

“You two, what on earth are you doing?!”

Bill and Ben were not only pushing the train, but the train was unbraked with no brake-van and dangerously out-of-date stock. It seemed like they were desperate enough to just want a reaction. In that department, they certainly succeeded. But they were heading for trouble. With the trucks in front, they couldn’t see BoCo on their line!

“Watch out!” Shrieked Edward in an uncharacteristically shrill voice.

But it was too late, as both trains collided with one another!

Lucky for them, they didn’t hit BoCo, but rather his train, and being at the back of their train helped them escape any serious damage. But they had something else to deal with. Edward came up to them, but instead of yelling at them, he began belting out unintelligible hoots and squawking! It was a while before he started to speak actual words, and even then, he laid into the twins until they had the paint blistered off of them! BoCo just sat back in awe.

The twins had to stay and clear up the mess. They were looking forward to a nice rest back at the clay pits, but their manager immediately put them to work with the backlog they had left. I think it’ll be another three decades before they even think to play games with Edward again, don’t you?

#ttte #ttte edward #ttte bill #ttte ben #ttte boco #traintober 2023 #woooo I was able to do something!!!!!#I always liked the idea of engines taking on the animal traits of their nicknames #and birds squawk!#spark writes #traintober2023 prompts #traintober #general rws stuff

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nofoodclub · 2 years

Text

This is fucking stoopid in a solid 98% sure he caught the feels too and if it weren't for all the extenuating circumstances (i.e. my dad) we would probably have some pretty fucking good times. I get why he is feeling the need to go quiet with me, if roles were reversed i would probably be making the same call. It was very kind of him to get me set up last night...i had the purest of intentions on that being my last shot... but things don't work out the way we intend too often, especially when there's heroin involved. I know that i ruined myself for all other forms of love this last year, nothing can ever top the absolute pure magical bliss that comes from doing a beautiful thick shot of dark. What's the hardest is that i dont evwn want to quit...i just wish i had never done it in the first place. I wish i would have kept my stance of its mother fucking HEROIN and stayed very far away from it. My love of terrible, no good, destructive boys gets me into some trouble... this ine def got me into some real toruble (fun? yeah it was def fun a whoie heck of a lot of fun, i miss him uhg) its gonnabe better for me long run to not be involved with him and not having simple stupid easy acess to all the drug i could ever want will probably be the only way to get my mom off my back (and to get everyone off j's back bc i am worried about what they could figure out to do to him legally or not so legally... my mom has said she would kill him givven the chance and i dont really doubt that a whole lot. i miss him but i know hes doing what he needs to do for himself and honestly this might be the only way i can ever have him back in my life in some aspect in the future is to let things die down for a while now...let susposions go, build trust back up no matter how utterly false i know it will be... i dont see much of a future for myself that would be too content without that aspect of danger and risk...like really any of the shots ive taken could have been my last, even the ones that were solid clear theres fucking fent in meth too now. fuck i do good at distracting myslelf from the one thing my heart is aching for for a couple min at a time then i hear a car that sounds vaugely like jakes truck,or i want a hug or i just fucking take a breath and i miss him again. we were so close to something now we are solidly notjhing....even a real goodbye would be nice, but then agan my idea of a nice goodbye consists of many hours, and many orgasms....which is pronbably a tad more than i should expext...fuck i would be hsppy with s hug.

this is from a while ago but feels are still 100% there. i miss j. all the others im distracting myself with are just that...distractions bc i still havent and tbh dont want to get over j. he ticked most of my boxes which is not easy to do... everyone keeps telling me hes a bad person but they dont know him they only know his arrest record, which is designed to make him look like a bad person. doesnt show any of his personal morales or the fact that he has a really good heart. very walled up which i can fully understand but ive seen him under his front that he keeps up, and hes a beautiful human. his softer side is a lovely thing, but hes right to keep it guarded so it doiesnt get destroyed. hes been dealt a lot of shit, i really want to help him clear it up, or have a magic wand that can take care of it all so i can see him again, but the world doesnt work like that so ill have to be patient. im not good at that. its driving me insane actually...i got to be intimate with him for hardly an hour, and in that hour i saw so many possibilities...i thought i was going to get a chance to explore at least some of them...but it was all taken away so soon. maybe not for good, i might get my chance again someday. but i cant count on it. i camt let myself wait for soemthing that may never come. i have to keep moving forward no matter how much i want to go back. there is no going back, the world keeps going and i can either choose to adapt with it or be left behind and truly hopeless. so ill keep going, ill keep exploring my optioins despite how i know i would still prefer the other one. its not an option right now i have to keep remiding myslef. no ammount of longing, hopeless texts or sad lonley waiting will change that. only time. so i might as well make the most of my time with people who can boost my ego a bit. the easy ones never are as exciting for me. i dont feel like ive accomplished anything with them. right now im a solid 8 to 9.5, j is maybe a 5 so that one really was just void fill to me, s is a 7 or so physically, but mentally he isint on the same level as me. he seems a little slow from all the years he spent tweaking. no im not one to talk much considering im still on the shit, but original j even though has been on it the longest, still has his head on straight. he still registers as being on my level..bringing him up to a 9 for me. he certainly has his flaws. anger is a thing ive noticed in him that frightens me, but i know he would never get physical with me. anger just triggers me to shut down and i do not like it. fuck how i know im still in too deep for j is when i try to think of his flaws, not that many come to mind. my love for him clouds all of it. my love for him will be my downfall. once i let someone take up residence in my heart like this, they dont ever fully leave. i dont want him to....i want him to find his way back to me, then i want him to never have to leave again. in whatever aspect ends up working out, i want him in my life. even if that means no more sexual intimancy, weve crossed that barrier. i can see more of him than he pervoiusly let me see, and i dont think he can take that away from me. that might be why hes so scared of me. i think he knows that. he def knows that he has some kind of feels for me that go past purley platonic or sexual. theres something more there and we both know it. i just hope we get a chance to explore that someday. we hardly cracked the surface before it all crumbled, we were so fradgile and i let it all slip away. dear universe...heres to manefesting another shot at connecting with jake again. im not specifing the type of connection, that can be up to your descretion. just know i love him and would like a deeper connection, but i love him enough to accept whatever will work, just so long as i can have him in my life again. the ability to talk freely to him again would mean so much to me. i miss my friend like crazy.

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extasiswings · 3 years

Text

MORE finale-spec because I hadn’t written a Buck POV yet. Also, wow, I need the new episode so I have something else to think about...

There’s a moment that happens sometimes before disaster strikes.

The world slows, and everything is thrown into stark clarity—Buck can remember it right before the ladder truck, the tsunami, Eddie’s well collapse—that feeling of being outside of his own body for a few seconds knowing suddenly that something terrible is about to hit. He remembers.

They’ve just finished a shift when it happens. Buck’s walking out to the parking lot with Eddie when Bobby calls him back—

“Go ahead,” Eddie says. “I told Christopher I would pick up ice cream on the way home anyway, so—we’ll see you at the house?”

“I’ll be there,” Buck promises. “I—I’m glad that—that we’re doing this. I’ve missed—” You. Both of you. “—him.”

Eddie’s lips curve up and his eyes soften.

“He’s missed you, too,” he replies quietly.

Buck’s heart flips in his chest.

Bobby calls him again. He turns away. Eddie continues walking to his truck—

Buck glances back over his shoulder when he reaches the garage—

The world slows. Everything goes cold.

A gunshot rings out.

Across the parking lot, Eddie collapses like a puppet with its strings cut.

Buck’s moving before he can even think, only to be abruptly yanked back into the safety of the garage. He fights the grip—everything around him is white noise, his focus narrowed to Eddie’s prone form on the ground—

His throat is raw. He thinks he might be screaming.

“Buck. Buck!” Bobby shouts right next to his ear. “It’s not safe—”

“Fuck safe,” Buck spits out and finally wrenches free, sprinting across the parking lot and dropping to his knees when he reaches Eddie. Eddie’s breathing is labored and blood slicks his hands where he’s holding pressure on the gunshot wound.

“Buck,” Eddie chokes out. “You shouldn’t be—sniper—”

“If he wants to shoot me, he can shoot me, but I’m not leaving you here,” Buck replies. He covers Eddie’s hands with his to help hold pressure, barely holding back a shudder at the unhelpful reminder his mind offers up that he isn’t trained for this, doesn’t know what he’s doing, and if Eddie dies—

Fuck, it would have been better if their positions were reversed. And Buck would do it if he could. Would take a bullet, a hundred, a thousand bullets if it would make Eddie magically fine, if it would send him home safe and sound to Christopher.

“Was supposed to get the ice cream,” Eddie murmurs, and his eyes are distant, focus slipping in and out. “Chris has been—been looking forward to tonight—all week.”

“Eddie, look at me,” Buck demands. There’s ice in his stomach and Eddie’s blood is warm on his hands—the contrast makes his head swim and his throat tighten. “Look at me, okay? Focus.”

Eddie makes a small, hurt noise and closes his eyes when Buck presses down a little harder, but when he opens them again Buck can tell he’s more present. Over in the ambulance bay, there’s shouting, and an engine starts up, but Buck’s gaze doesn’t leave Eddie’s.

“I promised—promised I wouldn’t leave him again,” Eddie says. “I promised—”

“And you’re going to keep that promise,” Buck replies fiercely as the ambulance pulls up right next to them, the doors opening and providing the faintest amount of cover. Hen jumps out with a backboard and together they get Eddie onto it and loaded inside.

“Buck,” Eddie tries to say again, except then his face pales rapidly, a terrible choked wheeze leaving him, and his eyes roll back.

“What’s happening?” Buck asks, his voice high with panic.

“I think one of his lungs collapsed,” Hen says, her own voice painfully controlled as she sets to work. And Buck just keeps holding pressure and lets her go.

When they get to the hospital—

Buck stands frozen in the ambulance bay outside the emergency room doors staring blankly after the gurney as the doctors and nurses wheel Eddie inside and into a trauma room. There’s blood rushing in his ears, he’s freezing—

And Eddie’s blood is on his hands, drying, staining his skin—

He gets sick in the nearest trash can.

“Buck.” Hen’s voice is quiet, her touch gentle when her hand curls around his shoulder.

He’s shaking. He can’t seem to stop.

“You’re in shock,” she says, and Buck realizes he must have said that out loud. “Come sit down.”

“I should be doing something,” Buck replies, even as he lets her lead him back to sit on the edge of the ambulance. His voice is distant to his own ears. “I should—I should call Isabel—Christopher—”

“You don’t have to do anything right this second.” Hen presses a water bottle into his hands. “Except drink that.”

Buck picks at the label instead. His mind is racing too quickly as well, skipping from thought to thought and not really processing any of them.

“He’s going to be fine, right?” He asks. “He has to be. Because I can’t—I can’t—”

Fuck, he can’t breathe. It’s like he gave Eddie his own lungs to keep him breathing. If he’s numb it’s because his heart is beating in Eddie’s chest, keeping him alive, and that makes sense to Buck because if Eddie dies—

He lost him to Ana. He did. Months of barely seeing each other outside of work. Months of barely seeing Christopher. Months of feeling like he couldn’t pick up the phone or drive over and use his key to just drop in because it suddenly felt...intrusive. And then Eddie broke up with Ana and they were finally supposed to get back to being them again, and now—

Buck would rather lose Eddie to a hundred Anas than lose him like this. At least before he still had physical presence, the half-life of proximity a few times a week at work. He could live with that, no matter how much it felt like hell.

“He has a great team working on him,” Hen says. “They’re going to do everything they can.”

It’s not an answer. Or it is. But not quite. But then, Buck’s pretty sure Hen doesn’t want to lie to him.

He shudders again. His eyes blur.

There are words trapped in his throat. Words that he hasn’t let himself say, has hardly even let himself acknowledge in his own head. But he’s fraying, fraying, fraying at the seams and his heart is in a trauma room and there is still blood on his hands—

Buck hunches forward, elbows on his knees, curling into himself.

“I’m in love with him,” he whispers. Just to say it. Just once.

Hen wraps her arm around his shoulders, gently encouraging him to lean against her.

“I know,” she admits.

And Buck turns his head into her shoulder. And breaks.

#chapel writes #buddie #buddie fic #911 fic #this is really about to be the twelve days of christmas except it’s the 15 days of different ways to hurt eddie #yes I'm choosing violence yes I'm sorry

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therealvinelle · 3 years

Note

Oh! Okay so what if Elana Gilbert and Bella Swan swap places, (like, swap their brains i guess, so their friends and family still think theyre the same) what would happen to them? Would Elana survive Edward’s affections? Would Bella react well to Stefan and Damon? (I kno you only saw some of the show, but i think you saw all the seasons Elana is human, and thats what matters.)

Hm, well the vampires from The Vampire Diaries are human in every way that counts, they're essentially sexier humans with a funky diet.

Elena is in love with Stefan for Stefan, his vampirism is just a facet of him. Edward will be as horrifying to her as a Twilight vampire normally is to humans.

Bella, meanwhile, is in love with Edward for all the wrong reasons. She's not going to fall for Stefan and Damon.

What happens to Twilightified Elena

Depends on when Elena is thrown into Twilight. And on when it is for Elena as well, is it at the beginning of TVD? Because if so, then she's mourning her parents and doesn't know about anything supernatural.

If so, then Elena has a terrible time because she must mourn for her parents in this world where no one knows they died, in fact the internet tells her they never existed in the first place, and there's this well-meaning stranger who wants to father her in their place. The angst would be unreal.

But, Elena of canon wanted to tough it out and stay her partying self, even if only on the surface, so she'd become best friends with Jessica and Lauren, and go with them to every party imaginable.

Somehow or other she loses the Yandere simulator, and is eaten by Edward.

If we take Elena from the end of season 2, then this is an Elena who knows about the supernatural. Bodyswaps are a thing in TVD, so she's stunned to find it happened to her and worried about Bella Swan, but she's got her bearing.

Or so she thinks.

Turns out, the year is 2005.

She tries to get in contact with someone, anybody, from her own world. She searches for the Salvatores, for witches, and in a final last act of desperation she puts on an ad on craigslist to get Elijah.

There's no trace of any of them. Not even when she gets desperate enough to post "Petrova döppelganger looking for original vampire" on her myspace.

Nothing, not even Klaus, just silence.

More terrifyingly yet, it appears Mystic Falls doesn't exist anymore.

It's a terrified Elena Gilbert who walks into Forks High the day after.

She knows at a sight that there's something wrong with the Cullens. When Edward spends an entire hour glaring at her for daring to exist, she is officially creeped out.

Elena returns home very scared that day.

She's in a new place, she doesn't know how to get home, and there are terrifying people at her school who seem to have it out for her.

She spends the following week confirming that everything she ever knew has simply ceased to exist.

Then Edward returns to school after a week's absence, and asks a series of questions aimed at finding out who she is and why she came to Forks.

Elena starts putting two and two together.

Of three things, she is absolutely certain.

One, reality has been rewritten. The people and places in Elena's life no longer exists, nor does Elena herself for that matter.

Two, no one in this world apart from Elena herself appears to be aware that this has happened.

Three, the one other anomaly in this world is the Cullens. They're clearly not human, and act not unlike pod people than everybody else, in fact they interact with no one. Except Elena herself. Who is being singled out by them.

Elena comes to the terrifying conclusion that the Cullens are an unknown species, a powerful magical one, capable of rewriting the laws of reality.

And she doesn't know if she's an accident, if she's Neo misbehaving in the Matrix, or if this reality marble was created to entrap her specifically.

She decides she's had enough.

She has no powers, no resources, no contacts.

What she does have is her wits.

And, possibly, the element of surprise.

Armed with nothing, Elena gets in the truck and drives to the Cullen house, having gotten the address somehow, and made sure to tell Charlie, Jessica, Lauren, Mike, and her Myspace where she's going.

There, she marches up their porch, knocks on their door, and asks to speak with them.

The Cullens, on their end, are stunned.

From their point of view, this is the anonymous singer who's been tormenting Edward. Yes, she has a name and all that, but they don't know anything about her.

More, she should have no interest in them.

Wanting to appear in control of the situation, Elena calls them in to the living room for an honest conversation, all cards on the table.

Well shit, the Cullens say to themselves, Edward's singer had to be the one girl in North America who knows about vampires.

Now, I do believe Elena is too intelligent to blurt everything she knows immediately and lose her leverage.

No, she asks them if she was supposed to know or not.

The question makes perfect sense to her - is she an anomaly in the Matrix, could it be Jessica is in fact amnesia Caroline and Forks as a whole is actually just nu-Mystic Fall, or is it just Elena?

The Cullens, meanwhile, wonder how on earth this girl can think she was supposed to know she was Edward's singer and that they're vampires.

She may not know what she thinks she knows.

Carlisle tells her the truth. No, miss Swan, you were not supposed to know.

Taking this as confirmation that she's in the Matrix, Elena asks if there are others. She, of course, is wondering if there are other people, perhaps right here in Forks, either with amnesia or else keeping their heads low, who have been taken from the real world.

Or, more chillingly, if everyone is living fake lives in this fake world.

The Cullens, meanwhile, wonder what others she's talking about.

Carlisle takes the plunge. Either she knows what the word means or she doesn't, if she doesn't then she'll have nothing to google because this isn't known to humans at all, plus the word is only a rough translation of the Italian term.

"Other singers, you mean?"

Elena blinks.

Singers, like sirens?

The Cullens are terribly beautiful.

But... sirens?

She stows this away for future use.

Elena decides this conversation has been cryptic enough, and point blank tells the Cullens that she means people who don't belong in this reality at all.

I imagine there comes a point where Carlisle has to call Aro. The girl knows nothing about vampires, she thinks they're semi-harmless human-looking creatures that burn in the sun and can be killed by humans. She's not a problem in that regard.

So Aro gets a call from Carlisle, explaining how a human girl showed up on his doorstep claiming he had created an alternate reality, and that her world apparently has a different worldbuilding altogether.

Oh, and Carlisle's telepath son can't read her mind.

He is in Forks practically before Carlisle can hang up the call.

I imagine Elena gets to spend years as a human, because if the body of Bella Swan is somehow a link to another dimension, then altering that into another species might sever the link.

No, Elena, Aro, and Carlisle spend the following years in a Volterra lab, trying and failing to engineer a pathway back to her world.

In the end, if they're unsuccessful, Elena is turned into a vampire, and Aro has a jolly good time reading her memories from another dimension once she has the control to let her shields down.

Elena, who only ever wanted to be human and thought TVD vampires were too spicy to turn into, cries.

What happens to TVDified Bella

Bella somehow manages to feel guilty about not being Elena. This must all be her fault. Somehow.

An optimist as always, Bonnie dives headfirst into reversing whatever spell was put on her best friend.

She never succeeds, and both women are crushed by guilt over something not their fault.

Damon, I imagine, kills Bella sooner or later during a drunken outburst.

#damon salvatore #bella swan #elena gilbert #bonnie bennett #carlisle cullen #edward cullen #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #twilight headcanons #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries meta

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crimsonrae · 3 years

Text

Night Ride

A/N: A drabble that is a result of my shitty work morning today. A fluffy, silly one-shot. I may delete later.

Rated: E

AU Captain Syverson!Train Conductor X OFC

Summary: After a long night ride, Syverson meets the new girl.

Night Ride

The sun was just a shy twinkle over the horizon as the sharp harmonic of the train bell broke the morning stillness. A pair of sapphire eyes flickered about the landscape from inside the engine, simultaneously noting the lack of life outside and the diamond placard that would be their pausing point. He muffled a yawn and felt his eyes burn as the strain of the past nine hours suddenly bore down on his body. One more to go and he could get some shut eye.

Clang.

The lower bell chimed as the train slowly rolled to a stop.

"How long do you think it's gonna take us to yard this beast?" His engineer John queried, his voice holding all the weariness that Syverson felt. He hated the night rides almost as much. The dark kept most of the enjoyable scenery away.

He arched a brow as he considered the almost ten thousand feet of rail cars. The railyard wasnt terribly large but it would house their bundle just fine, "Probably about forty minutes, maybe an hour if we have to wait for the tracks to be unlocked and I can just throw the switches."

"They're sending a van to pick us up, right?"

"Yeah." Sy answered muffling a yawn as he reached for the radio clipped to his shoulder, "Ramp manager, this is N35, come in."

Static crackled over the radio for a second before a light and distinctly feminine voice filtered over the line, "Go ahead N35."

Sy blinked in surprise, for three months he'd been working this line - it was the first time he had heard woman on the radio. He was intrigued, "We're here at the diamond and would like permission to enter."

"You're clear to enter track six, N35, but meet me at the switch. I have a new set of yarding instructions for ya. We had to change up the order on you."

Dual sighs echoed at her words, but Syverson knew that no matter what that he and John would be out in an hour, "Roger that."

John had the train rolling toward the switch before he even finish clicking off the mike.

The first set of switches were already lined up for the main track lines, Syverson didn’t need to get out and check - but years of covering his ass had ingrained a need to verify anyway. He hopped out of the slow rolling train and jogged ahead, giving the thumbs up to John to continue as he checked over the first switch and then the second, thirty feet ahead.

Cool air bit at his grizzled cheeks as he made his way up the track, knowing that the train would lag behind at the last switch until he received their orders. It felt good to stretch his legs after being cooped up inside the past three hours.

As he rounded the last bend, he was greeted by the familiar sight of a company work truck, but the new sight of a woman. He smiled lazily as he approached, careful not to let his perusal of her form be too obvious. It was clear by the weary lines at her eyes and her impassive expression that she was no morning person. Yet, she was ready for duty, work boots laced, safety vest zipped and radio at her hip as she watched him near. She shouldn’t have looked attractive, but she did. Her curves filled out the gear in all the right places.

Idly, he wondered what she would look like if she were to put on his gear. His imagination flickered with the thought of her in his work shirt and nothing else.

Damn....

"I have guys working, tracks three, four, and five. I'll be keeping watch and will have them cleared by the time you finish yarding your first cut on six." She began as soon as he was in earshot. She was direct, no nonsense... and bored.

Sy felt a bit disgruntled at that. Not even the vaguest hint of interest was sent his way... that was unusual - at least for him.

Papers were pushed under his nose and he couldn’t help the unimpressed glower at the gleaming sheet, “Fun... good morning to you too.”

A faint snort and a wry smirk greeted his words, “Sorry. Good morning - it’s been a bit of a circus already. Holler for me on the radio if you have any issues, hopefully we can get this done before you time out.”

She already had the driver-side door open to her truck as she finished her instructions. It was no different than what he received from her male colleagues, but he wanted to play, nine hours on the tracks did that, “And who am I hollering for?”

The question made her blink as she adjusted her seat-belt. That wry smile turned to a smirk as she really looked him over in consideration this time. Unconsciously, he puffed up his chest under her perusal - the action didn’t go past her notice. Mischief entered her gaze as she cocked a brow and answered, “You call for the ramp manager...conductor.”

She had the truck reversing before he had time to respond. Foolishly, he called out as she started to turn, “The name’s Sy!”

She poked her head out the window and grinned, “As in I’m supposed to swoon and sigh over you?”

He snorted - that was a new one, “Not yet, but give it time... ramp manager.”

“Well aren’t you cocky.” She murmured as she hit the accelerator, “See ya around, Sy.”

Syverson nodded to her as he watch her truck tear down the yard as he muttered to himself, “You’ll find out how cocky soon enough, darlin’.”

He hoped she was on duty tomorrow, maybe then the night rides wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#silliness #fanfic #drabble #captain syverson #captain america fanfiction

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cinnaminsvga · 3 years

Text

intermission • vi | moonlight

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. jungkook) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none!! it's just jungkook being a cutie!! → words: 3.7K → a/n: this intermission chapter was actually written by @jincherie!! i'm posting it on her behalf since she's currently on hiatus. she had this chapter mostly finished a few months ago and we were waiting to post it until we were both more active (lol) but yeah... things change i guess... anyway see you guys next year (i wanna say /j but really... is it really /j...)

— • masterlist | prev | intermission vi | next • —

Jungkook's strength has never been making friends.

In his mother’s words, a “pleasant and sweet boy” though he might be, that didn’t help much when it came to meeting someone new and the storm of butterflies in his stomach would grow so strong that it froze his limbs and caught his tongue. He’s not too good at first impressions.

A “pleasant and sweet, but terribly shy boy” is actually more along the lines of how Jungkook’s mother describes him, now that he thinks about it. That’s probably a little more accurate.

The sprawling complex he lives in is full of kids, and Jungkook knows each and every one of them. He might be challenged in the social area, but his mother is anything but. She says he takes more after his father, and since his father is usually relaxing inside and reading or drawing when Jungkook sees him at home, he figures that makes enough sense.

Every time someone new moves into the complex, Jungkook’s mother goes to greet them. Of course, he is graciously asked (read: forced) to come along too, just in case they have any kids around his age. This is how he normally meets the other kids on the block. It’s fine, he can’t complain. He has to admit it’s nice meeting all the new and different people that come through. His family is probably one of the ones that have stayed in the complex this long.

When the house next door is emptied of the family he knew, it’s a while before the next one comes in. By the time Jungkook peeks out his window one morning, woken by the telltale sound of a truck beeping as it reverses, and finally sees some movement in the house next to his own, his mother isn’t home. She’d moved into the hospital just a few days earlier, looking ready to pop with the little brother he’d heard so much about in her belly. He’s excited to meet his little brother, and now as he stands on his tippy-toes to get a good look from the window, he finds himself a little excited to meet the new neighbours, too.

It only has a little bit to do with the great, big, fluffy dog they have. Just a little.

It takes a few days for them to move in fully. Jungkook watches from his window every now and then, seeing all sorts of different cars come through. This family has lots of helpers, he notices. By the time they seem to really settle in, Jungkook doesn’t see much of them. Actually, to his disappointment, he doesn’t see anyone around at all. He still hears the dog, glimpses it every so often, but realised that they probably walk it in the mornings before he wakes up.

His mother is home before long, his baby brother cradled in her arms. The first thing she asks as she steps through the door is, “Have the new neighbours moved in? Have you met them yet, Kookie?”

This is perhaps the first time all week he hasn’t cared about the neighbours-- he’s transfixed with his brother. It stays that way for a few days, until the allure wears off when the tiny baby won’t stop crying at night. Perhaps his little brother is something best loved from afar for now, Jungkook surmises.

Back to the window he goes – except this time, there’s actually something to see.

There’s a child! A combination of nerves and excitement bubbles within him as he sees a kid in the backyard playing with the dog, throwing a Frisbee for the massive puppy to leap up and catch in its mouth. The kid looks a little…. feral. Like the baby from that one funny caveman movie he watched with his parents. They’re rolling around with the puppy, uncaring of the way grass and dirt get on their clothes and tangle their hair-- they laugh the whole time. It takes a second for the sound to reach him, but when it does it makes his heart do something funny in his chest.

Ah, the neighbour's kid is a girl.

It’s you.

Jungkook has always been a little more shy around girls, but has never known why. To meet you, he’s going to need his mother there for backup. This is probably the first time he’s outright wanted to go meet one of the neighbours. It’s a little embarrassing, so he elects not to think about it too much.

He thought he would have to pester his mother more to get up and go greet them, but it seems she’s a little sick of being in the house so much because she jumps up the second he mentions it. His baby brother is graciously asleep when they make the trip one morning to the house next door, nestled in his mothers arms looking like an angel wrapped up in fluffy clouds. Jungkook wonders if you’ll like his brother as much as he does. If you don’t, then he doesn’t know how good of a friend you’re going to be.

The doorbell is different, it’s the first thing he notices about the house. Your family must have changed it when you moved in. It’s a bubbly, fun tune now, and he doesn’t even realise the smile it brings to his face. His grip on his mother’s hand tightens, but he misses the fond look she casts over him.

When the door opens, Jungkook thinks his nerves just might eat him alive. He’s so stiff he’s worried he might turn to stone and disintegrate into dust on the spot.

It’s you who answered the door.

You don’t look as wild and unkempt as you did that day he saw you from the window. Actually, your hair is in two cute little buns on top of your head and there isn’t a spot of dirt or grime on your overalls.

The way your eyes light up when you see him and his mother, as well as the baby held to her chest, is enough to make him forget to breathe for a moment. When he remembers, he feels like running his head into the pole of the awning.

“Hey, sweetie,” his mother greets, that big smile on her face that normally wins everyone over. “We’re from the house next door! We wanted to come say hello and meet you. Are one of your parents home too?”

“Hello!” Your response is instant, and the smile you return is so big Jungkook can easily see the gap where you’re missing a tooth. It seems like you’re beating him, he hasn’t lost that one yet. “Yeah, my mama’s home-- you should come in! She said she wanted to meet you guys! Oh, also, we have a puppy! She’s big, and actually maybe she’s too old to be a puppy but… she’s cute. I want you to see her!”

You’re rambling, but you don’t seem to realise. Jungkook couldn’t get a word in edgewise if he wanted to, but he finds himself more than happy to simply listen as he and his mother follow you into the house.

Your mother isn’t as wild as you, but he notices the same little sparkle in her eyes that you have in yours. He wonders if he and his mother have their own matching sparkle. That would be cool.

Right away, his mother hits it off with yours – two socialites of a feather, it seems. You fawn over his baby brother for a few minutes while they talk (he knew right then that you were a good one), before grabbing him by the sleeve and insisting on showing him around. You get a full tour in, and miraculously Jungkook finds it in himself to ask a few questions as you go.

“S-so, you like it? Here?” Every time he opens his mouth the words don’t come out how he wants them, but he can’t do anything now. At least he only stuttered once.

“Yes! It’s so much better than my old house! There’s so many more kids here, and they’re all so nice too!” You’re more than happy to blabber on, a hand thoughtlessly carding through the long, fluffy fur on your dog’s back. Jungkook’s own hand is doing the same (the fur is just as soft and fluffy as he imagined). “There’s more room for Poopie to play, too.”

Jungkook still isn’t quite used to the name of your pet, but something more important in what you said is taking hold of his attention. “Wait, you, uh… you’ve met some of the other kids?”

“Yep,” you say, gaze off in the distance as you try to summon them all from your memory. “Not all of them, but some! Um, I think one of them is named…. Chanyeol…? He lives down the street. Then there’s-- …”

A queasy feeling fills his stomach. He thinks it might be disappointment. For some reason, he thought he was going to come in here and be the first kid you met, that he was going to tell you all about the complex, maybe show you down the street. If you turned out to be a real good egg, then he had even planned to show you his secret place. But now that he thinks about it, it’s a bit silly to think that none of the other families would have come to greet you by now. You’ve been here for more than a week, after all.

He had a good time when visiting you, but for some reason after that day, he finds himself hanging back a bit. He wants to go out and play with you and the other kids, but when he sees you getting along with them so well he’s reminded of that queasy feeling from that day and he stays inside. Which, oddly enough, makes him feel even worse. He feels like no matter what he does, he’s losing progress with you. Maybe you won’t even want to play with him at all, you might think he’s boring after having so much fun with the other kids.

“You gonna go out and play, Kookie?” his mother catches him staring out the living room window one afternoon. She’s bouncing his brother on her hip, the demon baby sated for the time being. “There’s still plenty of time before dark.”

“No, I’m okay,” he answers, hating himself a little bit for it. Why was it so hard to say that yes, he wanted to play, but also that he didn’t. He thinks his mother would be able to help, but he has no idea how to tell her his woes. “I think I might draw a little.”

“Okay, sweets.” She comes over and ruffles his hair. “But if you do decide to go out and play, just let me know so I know where you are, okay?”

He nods, and she leans to kiss his hair before wandering back into the depths of the house. Maybe he will do some drawing, he ponders. It might distract him from the sight of you getting along so well with all the other kids.

Jungkook’s strength has never lain in being outgoing. This proves itself over the months when his attempts to grow closer and befriend you turn out unsuccessful, without fail.

You’ve made a good space for yourself amongst the kids of the block. You’re nice, caring and understanding, and never mean – sure you pushed Chanyeol off the seesaw once, but that was because he was being mean to Suzie. He didn’t do it again afterwards, and peace was maintained in the playground in the park at the end of the complex. Your friendship is sought-after, and with the beginning of the school year looming so close he’s running out of time to establish a friendship between the two of you.

When he spends an afternoon riding his bike at the end of the street, looping around and through the park, it’s definitely not just because you’re sitting there with some of the other girls on the block. When he summons all the knowledge stored in his brain from watching those bike tournaments and attempts to do a little trick, it’s definitely not because he thinks you might be watching. If you happen to see and think he’s cool, then it is what it is. It’s not like he’s actually trying to impress you or anything.

It goes okay, for the most part. His legs are a little tired though. He probably shouldn't attempt the trick he’s thinking of next, but he swears he sees you glance his way and he feels a surge of confidence flow through him. He attempts it.

He botches it.

The bike clatters to the ground and he rolls a bit, but his knees take the brunt of his meeting with the concrete path.

Lucky he wasn’t trying to impress you, because that was pretty humiliating. Lucky you probably didn’t see, either. His knees burn and he feels tears prick at his eyes, probably not just from the pain. He feels so embarrassed, so dumb. He’s touched his bike five times since he got it for his birthday last year, why did he think he would be able to do awesome tricks on it? Dumb, so dumb. He flees the scene before anyone can notice what happened, and completely forgets his bike.

He’s made it all the way home before he even realises it, his vision blurred from the tears that just won’t stop falling and his knees still singing in pain each time he bends them. He almost goes inside, craving a hug from his mother and her gentle hands on his wounds, but then he realises she would ask what happened, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to tell her. It’s too embarrassing. He’s so embarrassed.

So he bypasses the front door, going around the side and slipping through the gate. There’s a tree that lines the side of the house where his window is, and it’s so tall it reaches well above the roof. Without pause, he climbs it, hands finding familiar grooves. He halts, hissing at the sudden sting – it would seem he’s scraped up his palms, too. His eyes burn with the added humiliation and he darts up the tree, making quick work of the climb until he reaches his special spot.

The roof of his house is mostly slanted, but there’s a flat bit at the very top on one side of the house. This is where he likes to go. No one ever looks for him here, plus the view is always very pretty. He doesn’t appreciate the sunset right now, though. He feels like he doesn’t deserve it.

The whole way home, Jungkook held in his cries. He didn’t want anyone to hear and tell his mother. But now, in the embrace of his little ‘safe haven’, he lets them out. He buries his head in his arms and sobs, the pain of moving his palms only making it worse.

He doesn’t know how his little body can handle so much embarrassment, let alone so many tears, but for the moment he doesn’t think about it and surrenders himself to his woes.

He must be up there for a while before his crying ceases. By the time he lifts his head, the last of his tears drying against his cheeks, the sun is just beginning to disappear beyond the horizon. It’s pretty, how it casts light around the shadowy silhouette of the city buildings in the distance. He kind of wants to show it to you. That thought is quickly shut down. He’s going to ask his mother if they can move cities so he doesn’t have to face you again.

Alas, the world just doesn’t seem to be working in his favour today. He hears the rustling of the tree before he sees it. By the time he looks over to investigate, you’re already clambering onto the roof, an oversized fanny pack bursting at the seams with whatever you’ve shoved inside slung over your shoulder.

“Hey!” You greet with a smile, apparently oblivious to the dumbstruck look on his face. “Man, it took forever to find you! If I didn’t see you from the window in my room, I never would have known where you went!”

That was the idea, he laments. He hadn’t wanted to be found.

“Anyway,” you say, plopping down a foot away from him, safely away from the edge of the roof. You swing the fanny pack around so the zip is at your front, and rip it open. Immediately, a tsunami of bandages and band-aids flow forth, fluttering to the tile before you. They’re all sorts of different sizes, but one thing is common across them all – they all have pikachu’s face plastered on them in one way or another. “These are my special band-aids! My mama uses them when I hurt myself, and they always make it heal really quick! I didn’t know how big your owie is, so I brought them all.”

Jungkook is still stunned into silence as you sort through them, organising the chaos at least a little. One of your buns has come loose, he notes. One pigtail, one bun. You look a little more like that wild child he first saw from his window. The knees of your overalls are smeared with dirt, too. He wonders if it got like that while you were looking for him. It makes him feel a little warm inside.

And a little warm outside – his cheeks are starting to burn. He doesn’t remember scratching them too, but maybe he did…?

“Let’s see…” you’re practically just holding a conversation with yourself at this point. He surrenders his leg without protest as you grab it to inspect his knee. “Yep. That’s a big ‘un.”

His whole face has lit on fire. Even his ears feel hot. Is that normal? Probably not. He’d have to ask his mother to take him to the doctor. Maybe he’s dying.

He notices how close you are suddenly, realises this is the first time you’ve been fully alone together (without Poopie), and suddenly he can’t think. Like, at all. He may as well not have a tongue because he can’t remember how to use it anyway.

Somewhere amongst the bandages you’d shoved some tissues. You pull them out now, gently clearing the dirt away from the wounds on his knees. You’re talking as you do it, but his brain is full of static. Your hands are even tinier than his. Is that normal? Wait, no-- they’re the same size. What is he doing…?

Is he going to get in trouble for being alone with a girl…? His mother hasn’t told him about the birds and bees like she said she would yet-- is that what this is? Will he turn into a bird if he gets any warmer? Jungkook doesn’t want to be a bird.

You are placing large plasters over his knees when he finally tunes in to what you’re saying. “… -that last trick was pretty cool, too. It would have been even cooler if you didn’t fall.”

Jungkook squeaks, “You saw that?”

You nod, apparently unaware of his utter humiliation. “Yeah! You’re pretty good on a bike. Can you teach me sometime? I want to show my dad.”

He makes a noise that sounds enough like an affirmation that you accept it, a big grin on your face. For a few more minutes, you finish patching him up.

“There! All done!”

Pikachu stares back up at him from his knees, looking a little wonky because of their shape. The band-aids are a bit wrinkled, but you look so proud of yourself he forces himself to ignore it. He looks up, the words of thanks he took so much courage to summon dying on the tip of his tongue as he sees you.

The setting sun changes the colour of your eyes a bit – it’s pretty, he finds himself thinking. Immediately afterwards, he blushes. Even more embarrassingly, he finds himself unable to help but observe that the sun suits you, actually. Bright, persistent, a little bit sparkly. In the sun’s last reaching rays of afternoon light, you look a bit like you’re glowing.

Of course, Jungkook is used to his silence, but it seems you’re only just noticing it. You seem to misunderstand it’s cause. “Oh, do they hurt?”

Your words tear him from his reverie, and the startled look on his face doesn’t exactly help his case. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t realise they were that bad-- oh! I almost forgot the next step! My mum always does this whenever I hurt myself.”

Then, without a second spared for him to prepare himself, you lean over and plant a kiss on each of his bandaged knees.

Jungkook thinks he might explode. The entire neighbourhood is going to see him take off and zip through the sky like a rocket. His earlier thoughts of moving cities and changing his name come back full force.

“There, they hurt less now, right?” But you’re still grinning, still bright as ever with shining eyes hoping for a certain response. Despite himself he takes a moment to assess the level of pain he’s feeling – oddly enough, it does feel a bit better.

There’s no way he can manage to say that, though.

Instead he nods, wide-eyed. You let loose a sigh of relief, muttering about how you didn’t know what you’d do if that didn’t work. He swears he catches the slightest warmth in your cheeks, but doesn’t know whether it’s a trick of the sun.

“Thanks,” he finally manages, his voice just shy of a whisper. You hear him anyway and flash that gap-tooth smile his way.

“Of course! This is what friends are for!”

You think of him as a friend? Jungkook can’t help the dumb smile that rises to his face. He likes that. Friends. As the two of you stay on the roof until moonlight begins to filter through the tree and your parents are calling your name, he thinks he’d like for things to stay that way.

He’d like to be friends with you. Always.

#btsghostie #networkbangtan #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #bts fanfiction #bts reader insert #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bangtan #bts fanfic #i dont even remember how to tag HAJDHASJ i havent posted a fic in so LONG #anyway yall thought fox rain was dead but i guess she lives for one day... next chapter is gonna kill me tho but im excited!!#see you sooner than later i hope lmao

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bustyasianbeautiespod · 2 years

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hey guys, i’ve listened to all episodes so far and i am looking forward to more. i was just wondering if y’all can recommend any other podcasts, supernatural the show themed or otherwise?

Hi! I'm so glad you're listening and enjoying!

This gets quite long so we are putting it under the cut.

My knowledge base lies pretty strictly in audio dramas, and I feel like you may be asking for podcasts that are more talk-show-y, but on the off-chance that you don't mind, here are my top recs (also, coincidentally, all of these have protagonists of color if you care about that):

1. Alice Isn't Dead is a mystery/horror story about a truck driver on a road trip across America as she searches for her missing wife. Its approach to the strange beauty and loneliness of the dusty corners of America is beautiful, Jasika Nicole's voice is so soothing, and Supernatural fucking wishes it could pull of the "complex commentary on America and monsters and the terrible price of freedom while also being infused with humanity and hope" gambit that this podcast executes. It's explicitly referenced in this post about How to Make SPN Not A Magic Cop Show and extremely rightly so.

Transcripts can be found at @alicescripts!

2. Mabel is a horror/fantasy podcast about "ghosts, family secrets, strange houses, and missed connections." Anna Limon, working as a live-in caretaker for the elderly Sally Martin, starts leaving voicemails to her estranged grandaughter, Mabel. If you want to listen to houses that love you so much they want to eat you, eerie fairies under hills, lesbians dealing with family trauma, and a podcast where every episode sounds like pure poetry, step right up!

Transcripts are on their website.

3. Unwell is a Midwestern gothic mystery about a woman returning to her hometown to care for her mother. It's a podcast about ghosts, erasing town histories, secret societies, caring for your home, and complicated but loving family and found family relationships. Also, the sound design is fucking banger.

Transcripts are on their website!

4. Janus Descending is a 13-episode sci-fi/horror podcast told through log entries of two astronauts exploring a new planet. Chell's story is told in chronological order, while Peter's is told in reverse chronological. As you go on, you piece together exactly what happened on this flight and how impossible it is for you to stop this tragedy. The writing is very tight and also Chell is my beloved.

Transcripts are on their website!

5. The Far Meridian is a magical realism podcast about an agoraphobic girl in a traveling lighthouse searching for her missing brother. Featuring: a candle named Guillermo, found family, adventure, and longing.

Transcripts on their website!

6. The Strange Case of Starship Iris is a space drama about space smugglers, cool aliens, found family, and oppressive regimes. The characters and their friendships are all a delight, and it's both a fun and emotional time.

Transcripts on their website!

- Crystal :)

—————

Hello! I, on the other hand, like more laid back, personality driven, people just talking podcasts. Here’s my rec list!

First off, for Supernatural related podcasts, you can find a list of currently airing ones here. We are especially shouting out Monster of the Week, Escaping Purgatory, and Mensch of Letters.

If you are also into star trek (like I am), you may also enjoy The TNG podcast. They talk about every episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. It’s super fun!

I am also a big fan of the Green brothers’ various podcasts.

Dear Hank and John is an advice podcast hosted by John and Hank Green. It’s super fun and it’s the podcast that got me into podcasts.

Delete This is a podcast by Hank and Katherine Green where they talk about Internet-famous Hank Green’s tweets to evaluate what has happened in their personal life and in the world that week. I love the husband-and-wife dynamic on this one. It’s one you rarely hear in podcasts, I feel.

Finally, The Anthropocene Reviewed (Transcripts) is a podcast by John Green. It talks about humanity and the world by ranking different things through a five star scale. I am a fan of non-fiction books and essays, and this one is That in audio format, to the point that it has actually become a book (which I haven’t read yet.) I am not a fan of the John Green‘s fiction writing style, but his non-fiction is heart-wrenching and dynamic, and has the ability to make me cry like a baby (which this podcast has done many times so don’t listen to it in public!)

That’s all!

- Grey <3

#asks

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