#why does he have a ball on him. well he is a prisoner of sorts in the b uhhh ableist horror asylum | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 1 month

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Hey my lovely, could i equest a blurb where reader seeks one of spencer's hugs and he's all soft and mushy about it!! I just think he'd give really warm hugs and want one so bad!

shy!reader + post!prison Spencer have a hug

Spencer understands why you might find him intimidating. He did go to prison for a few weeks, and even if the idea of his being a potential felon didn’t scare you, there’s nothing wrong with being nervous around the unknown. You’ve had a few more weeks to get to know the others on the team. He tries not to take it personally that you’re closer with some of them than you are him.

Plus, you’re awfully shy.

Spencer’s been trying to communicate that he’s an idiot. He was shy, once, and he tends to be shy about things now, too, even if he’s taken to hiding that. He hides a lot, these days.

But things aren’t hopeless with you. You’re inarguably his best work friend now that Morgan’s not around, taking the desk next to his —through coincidence or insistence, he has no idea.

“What flavour do you have today?” he asks.

You show him your bag. The convenience store outside of work has the strangest sweets from all sorts of places. You’ve been bringing in a different bag each day, and you always share. “Today is apricot and peach ‘millions’,” you tell him, shaking the bright pink bag like a rattle.

Inside, the millions bounce against each other like miniscule polystyrene balls but with a heavier weight.

“Awesome!” he says, holding out his hand. “Please?”

You rip the corner and tip a generous helping of candies into his palm, doing the same in your own hand. “Ready?” you ask.

“Three, two, one.”

You both tip your heads back at the same time. Apricot and peach are similar flavours, and Spencer can’t tell the difference when they’re both in play. He can also taste apple juice and the sharp citric acid flavour they put in every candy.

He can’t tell if you like them. He quite enjoys it, will happily eat the leftovers if you’re not interested, but your attention isn’t on the candy when he looks up. You’re staring straight at him.

“What?” he asks, perturbed.

“Nothing, just. Had a rough morning. Thanks for trying the candy with me.”

He frowns. “I’m sorry. Let me know if there’s something I can do to make you feel better. I can make you a cup of hot chocolate?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Spencer’s sure that to an outsider, he and the team appear to travel to a hundred cities a month. In reality, cases aren’t as densely packed, especially with the government expanding their profiling teams, and the majority of Spencer’s day is spent answering emails and giving advice to agents, law enforcement, and his colleagues. He doesn’t see much of you (where you’re forced to work ViCAP calibration as newbies usually are, almost like a hazing) but he does take you that hot chocolate around lunch time. Just to make sure you have the option.

It’s sometime past four PM when you appear again.

“Hey,” he says, turning to you where you’re paused behind your desk chair, “you're finally done?”

“Not yet. So many case files to transcribe, opinions to cross check, signatures and…” You wince. “It’s a lot. You already know.”

“I don’t, actually. I only ever had to do ViCAP as punishment, and I was extremely well-behaved. For a while, anyway.”

You hesitate with something heavy on the tip of your tongue. You’re like every profiler wherein your tells are self-identified and quelled, but you’re still so new, and Spencer’s an expert. You want to ask him for something, but you don’t think you’re allowed. If he presses the issue you’ll shut down, and if he offers you another cup of hot chocolate you’ll simply drink it without letting him in on the real secret.

Spencer waits.

“Spencer, you don’t have to say yes, just… You’re the nicest friend I have, and you always know what I need to hear. Um, I know you don’t like touching people and I wouldn’t ask you to if you don’t want to, but it’s been a really long time since someone hugged me, and…” Your voice gets quieter and quieter, until you’re whispering, and then fizzling out.

“You want a hug?” he asks, surprised.

“If that’s okay.”

“I give really good hugs,” he warns, climbing from his chair immediately, arms opened, an unmissable invitation. “You’ll never get over it.”

“Really?”

He can’t believe you came to him specifically for a hug. He’s gonna lose his mind. Gentle, Spencer ushers you into his arms, head quick to duck down, his thumb on your shoulder.

You could’ve asked anybody in the office for a hug. Penelope would have hugged your brains out. Emily, Unit Chief and secret sweetheart, would’ve taken you off of ViCAP and given you a loving pat on the back. But you didn’t ask Penelope or Emily, you asked him.

“You don’t have to ask me first,” he says quietly.

“You don’t like touching.”

“That’s more to do with germs, and I’m not worried about yours,” he says. “Unless you’re about to tell me you have a headache.”

“It’s like this pounding behind my eyes,” you say with a laugh.

Spencer smiles, his mouth and nose to the side of your head. He gives you a good ten seconds of quiet, his palm warming your shoulder, before he murmurs, “Any better?”

“You’re really warm,” you murmur back.

Spencer resists the urge to squeeze you. “It's the oxytocin.”

“Or you’re just really, really warm.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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cupcakeslushie · 1 year

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am IN LOVE with your feral leo au

the story just keeps getting interesting every time!

i love the art so much! i just wanna- AGEUGAUEGUAEGA * insert more gremlin noises *

-{ by someone who should probably study for their exam }

Thank you! Also *softly bops you on the head* I hope you studied and did well on your exam!

IT’S FERAL LEO HOURS!!!

@renmiel Honestly Donnie hasn’t really had time to process properly. After Leo, he’s the one on the team with the most medical knowledge so he’s stuck in a sort of, assess what we can fix immediately mode, hence why he’s the only one with bites, and then when Leo’s all cleaned up, Donnie moves into a denial stage and thinks with enough prodding he can sort of snap Leo out of it. Raph tries to tell him that Leo might never be the same, but for being so smart, sometimes Donnie refuses to see what’s right in front of him if he doesn’t like the reality of it. It takes him a few days to realize this won’t be a quick fix.

@imadino @blankiss2204000 @aron-has-ocs

The plan at first is really just to make him as comfortable as possible so they don’t get attacked lol. Just because they’re his family doesn’t mean Leo wont pounce and lash out if startled. So he stays with Mikey in the infirmary for a few days, listening to his little brother’s stories about when they were young, and looking at the pictures on his phone, up until Mikey’s recovered and can move around. By then the rest of the family has “Feral Proofed” the lair (i.e closed off all the places Leo could escape to and get lost, hidden all the sharp objects things like that). Then they make sure someone’s with him at all times. They make him a nest in the corner of the living room, but he’ll prowl around at night and check to make sure the lair is secure, and by the morning he can be found at the foot of someone’s bed—usually Mikey.

Once Leo’s more at ease with them, Donnie can get to work on patching Leo’s shell. He does try to make turtle noises back at Leo, but Leo just huffs and wheeze laughs at the sad attempt, and pokes Donnie in that big forehead of his. Still Donnie keeps trying and gets better. Now that he’s fully accepted the situation as it is, he’ll do anything if it helps, even if it is a bit embarrassing.

Yes that “churp” is a turtle noise. I’ve found it’s a pretty common staple of TMNT fanfic that I’m obsessed with lol.

Leo’s recovery is LONG He gets nightmares pretty regularly and it’s months before he’s even able to let his guard down, despite only ever remaining in the lair where it’s always quiet and safe. I’d say it takes Leo at least a year before he starts to resemble himself and speak in fuller sentences (though the chirps and hissing never go away). Then maybe two years before he’s able to make cheesy jokes and fight without reverting to his more savage way of fighting. Even starting off slow—bringing him only on what they think will be easy missions, can sometimes end with them having to pull Leo off of the bad guys before he causes them serious harm.

Leo isn’t embarrassed so much—he realizes he did what he had to in order to survive and make it back to his family. He’s more serious and actually shockingly calmer now, but at the same time, in no uncertain terms, he makes it clear that he thinks Raph should take the reigns back, Leo knows he’s in no proper state to lead.

@asleepyb0i one word. Klunk!!!! Mikey finds him one day a few months into sneaking out to help with Invasion clean up, but he let’s Leo hold him so much that he’s Mikey and Leo’s little fluff ball.

Leo and Draxum never really liked one another, but awkward Dad #2 does try to help when he can. Leo manages to sneak out of the lair a few times, and gives his family heart attacks every time, but they always manage to track him down, or he finds his way back, his sense of direction is one thing that was sharpened in the Prison Dimension.

GOLLUM??!! GOLLUM????! I don’t think he looks that bad off does he???? 😱

A. You’re so right. Galaxy brained!

B. @snipersiniora That’s a good way to lose a finger! No, he keeps the nails for a long while until he’s a bit calmer.

C. @snipersiniora He’ll eat anything at this point, but pizza will always be a fav!

D. You know what’s funny? While I was googling the spelling on Pepino like forever ago, just to make sure I was spelling it right, I read that there’s actually a common Spanish phrase (and please native speakers correct me if I’m wrong!) something translated like “I care a cucumber.” When you don’t care about something or want the convo to end, and I think that’s hilarious and maybe I’m reading too much into it, but if the writers knew about that phrase and having Heuso use it cause of course Leo’s green like a cucumber, BUT ALSO because Hueso didn’t much like Leo at first and always seemed to want him to go away—that’s gotta be the funniest thing ever.

E. Well…they are in a sewer….with lots of…………….rats.

F. The crack’s pretty large but not too deep. Donnie patches it before shell rot sets in (it never set in before because the prison dimension kept Leo in like a sort of stasis where his wounds healed and scarred over in a few days). He’s gotta be very careful for a few weeks, while it heals, which is a bit of a re-learning curve. Leo’s not used to his wounds actually slowing him down for so long.

G. I will say…..no. Just for possibly any future angst I might want to cause lol

H. Leo was in the prison dimension three years so he’d be 19!

I. Re-introducing Leo to Cass and Sunita, yes all good 👍. Re-introducing Leo to Big Mama, no very much bad, all out hissing and clawing!

@hapfrog @snowblossim @zowise2912 aw thanks!!

Music is a very common calming technique Donnie reads about, and then puts into practice when they need to. It works like a charm at relaxing Leo. The prison dimension was so quiet, unless it was filled with Leo’s cries or Kraang Prime cursing and screaming at him. So music allows Leo the audio proof that he’s not there anymore.

Leo’s reaction to his bale crying would be to curl up around them and protect! If there was no threat to scare off he’d focus on providing physical warmth and comfort.

Leo’s knees are probably the least of his worries, that boy’s body is so torn up it’s one big ball of pain, which he’s gotten so used to, it hardly registers. But he does have to do a lot of physical therapy with Donnie and Raph (alongside Mikey who needs it for his own hands).

Leo didn’t have to eat or sleep in the prison dimension. His body was kept in a sort of stasis—the only wear and tear was from the Kraang. He didn’t even physically age. I wouldn’t think about it too much (I know I haven’t lol) So re-eating syndrome wasn’t a challenge for him, but mentally he does have to get used to the idea of being hungry and eating. He kinda fights them the first time they try and get food in him, but after remembering how good food is—even the simple bland soup Splinter makes him, he’s a nightmare at meal time (his table manners are non-existent).

#rottmnt #ask slushie #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise leo #feral leo au #feral leo

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bomberqueen17 · 4 months

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progress etc

god it's less than a week to christmas. ok cool. yeah. great. all right.

i am. what have i been doing??? i don't know. I've sewn several things-- most notably a pair of leggings-- and the house renovations have progressed to the point that we're getting final measurements for counters tomorrow. I'll put pictures behind the cut. We painted the ceiling ourselves, as paint isn't included in the remodel.

I don't remember what I last posted pictures of. IDK there's a floor now, I didn't take pictures of that yet.

ok i was wrong i do have one photo of the floor but it's in-progress, max is in the background wedging it in between the cabinets.

[image description: an awkward angle looking down standing in the side door entryway, with the blue-washed gray side of a new cabinet facing me, some of the plywood subfloor exposed coated in glue, mottled gray fake stone tiles laid out and the hunched form of a man in a gray sweatshirt kneeling on the floor in the background with his head hidden behind the cabinet. Listen I wasn't trying to be creepy.]

it's fake stone vinyl tiles. i know, not normally my aesthetic, and it's probably the thing that'll look most dated in a little bit, but there was no point trying to do anything wooden or wood-look because the rest of the house has original hardwood from 1950 and anything new wouldn't match. (the hardwood badly needs refinishing, let's not contemplate that right at this juncture...)

Max is from Elmira, btw, and only moved to Buffalo a year ago-- just in time for the blizzard to absolutely destroy his first apartment here and wreck most of his stuff. It was a bit of a harsh welcome to the city. He's soft-spoken and extremely polite and doesn't really know how to talk to me, not the way Jim the installer (fiftysomething and very experienced) does. He did gently laugh at me when I left yesterday and then immediately had to come back to get my keys, which I had locked inside the house (but of course as he was still there the other door was still unlocked). "I grew up in the kind of place where you don't bother locking doors," I said, and he was like "lol same".

(I know Elmira because Middle-Little went to college there. It's a sort of dire little place in the Southern Tier-ish region of NY, a couple hours away. The region is fairly economically devastated, alternating crushing rural poverty with Tourism Dollars; Elmira itself boasts a college, a prison, and precious little else.)

Anyway-- painting the ceiling over the weekend, I discovered that the real life hack for painting a ceiling is for at least one member of your party to be six feet three inches.

[image description: my dude, a tall thin white man in an uncharacteristic ball cap he's only wearing to avoid paint splatter (it is embroidered with the HTML tags <head> on the front and </head> on the back, and was a gift to him in like 2002) is standing on the cardboard-and-sheet-draped floor of the kitchen using a paint roller on the ceiling, which he can reach easily; in front of him the cabinets are all draped in old sheets as well and there's a random light bulb sticking out because the installer wired that in for us to use as a work light since the electricians haven't installed the ceiling lights yet which was why it was an ideal time for us to paint said ceiling.]

Anyway it's going great. The counters won't go in until January sometime, but early January. The electricians plan to come the day after Christmas and I won't be there until the afternoon so I'm going to check in with Jim today about what they'll need.

Meanwhile, I remembered that I hadn't set myself the goal of crafting anything for Christmas except I bought a bunch of scarf blanks from Dharma Trading to dye as gift wraps and gift components and my basement is all torn apart and I don't dare make that kind of mess in my mother-out-law's basement so I need to work out how to get that done so I'm really kind of slogging through that, a bit.

OH i just went to look at what the last pictures I posted of the kitchen were and the answer is LIKE NONE so omg sorry here's before we painted the ceiling, where you can see what it's gonna look like!

[image description: This is View A, from the side door toward the front of the house. Along the left of the photo is a line of cabinets, a set on the ground and then another mounted up on the wall; in the middle of that will be the sink, and then farther down a dishwasher (!!!) and beyond that the stove, all along that north wall of the house. The middle of the photo is the big bay window we had installed, and there are cabinets along the front of it: the countertop will extend out from those, and will form a seating area. To the right of the window, the front door is now visible, that little wall having been removed and now being a wide-open space into the entryway. The right of the photo is the interior wall of the kitchen, now transformed into a built-in pantry space with a fridge hole in the middle, where the extra flooring tiles are currently stacked.]

[image description: this is View B, from the front door into the kitchen. The foreground is the big open space where the wall was removed; the bay window is just out of frame to the right, and the far wall shows the empty space (now containing buckets of floor glue and a roll of cardboard) where the stove will be, and above it will be an extractor hood (no more Everything Smells Like Salmon!!), and the empty space (now filled with a rolling garbage can the contractors are using) for the dishwasher, and then the little window right above the sink-- this is a detail we've kept from the old kitchen, that's where the sink was and that's where the window, but the window seems bigger because the cabinets aren't packed so tightly around it now-- and you can see the side door there, and then the left of the photo shows the edge of the pantry unit where the fridge will go.]

It's a much more open space, both of us can be in there, someone doing dishes while you cook is no longer the world-ending inconvenience it historically has been, and also now you can talk to someone in the living room while you're in the kitchen without needing to holler.

Yeah the gray cabinets are-- well they're pale wood washed with dilute blue, is what they are, and all the hard fixtures are in neutral shades like that, grays and gray-blues, and the countertops will be white with tiny sparkles, and the idea is that the big wall to the west and the little bits of wall around the windows will be painted some bold color we'll match with like throw rugs and hot mats and other changeable fixtures, so the kitchen can get "redecorated" with a new coat of paint and not clash with the hard fixtures. This job cost five figures, we're not re-redoing it during our lifetimes.

#about the author #home remodel #etcetera

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onstrangerthighs · 11 months

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👑 🌊 / 🚬

Steve can’t sleep because of the demogorgon. Turns out knowing there are monsters in the dark after his younger years of being scared of the dark... well, tbh I’d hate being right about that.

So basically, Steve has his bat and starts doing this sort of neighborhood watch thing. He scopes out the neighborhood. He’s scared out of his wits, but the thing about being sleep deprived? He’s too tired to really be much of anything. He runs on coffee most of the time. So Steve’s practically a zombie stumbling in the night.

Billy is also up. He never knows when Neil’s going to actually put a lock on his door. Billy’s gotten pretty good at being sneaky. Of course, it was easier back in California because he actually knew the house. Every squeaky floorboard and such. Billy does test runs during the day to prepare for sneaking out. He slips out and looks more at his watch than he does where he’s walking. And he bumps into Steve.

“You don’t look too good, Pretty Boy.” His way of saying “You’re not okay, something’s clearly wrong”.

“What gave it away?”

“The bat, the manic look in your bloodshot eyes. The eyebags-”

“Okay, alright alright, I get the point.”

“What brings you to these parts, amigo?”

“I could ask you the same thing... amigo.”

He could lie. Lies fly out of his mouth faster than a bee to a flower. Smoother than honey off the tip of his tongue. But he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t have the energy to lie, anyway. “Had to get out for a while.” Doesn’t add that he’s tired of being watched like a hawk and blamed for everything.

Harrington nods like he gets it.

“You next.”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Doesn’t explain why you’re out here with a bat, ready to swing.”

“I didn’t hurt you, now, did I?”

Billy’s about to fire back but then realizes Steve’s really asking if he accidentally hit him with that bat. “No, you didn’t. So I’m not a big bad scary wolf to you, huh?” Nothing makes sense anymore. Why should he? Making sense is exhausting.

“Scary? You?” Steve actually laughs in his face.

Billy’s lungs deflate/inflate at this new, pleasant sound.

“I’ve seem trees that are scarier, man.”

“Something’s giving you the heebie jeebies, though.” Again he states it like a fact. Like he knows/sees right through Steve. It’s unnerving (Steve’s pov).

“It’s dark. You should go back home.”

“Don’t have one.” Lack of filter. Is it sleep or is it steve making him so loose lipped?

“So you’re homeless?” No judgement or anything like that. Just curiosity.

“I have a house. Never feels like home.”

Steve nods again. Doesn’t seem to be the time to say he understands when he doesn’t understand. The night makes truthers of them both, it seems.

They walk for a little while, and then Billy checks his watch. Hasn’t looked at it since he bumped into Harrington. “I gotta go.”

“House?”

“Yeah.” Back to the old ball n chain. And the poisonous leech of a warden about to make him even more of a prisoner.

The next night, they run into each other again.

#im challenging myself to just post drafts rn #billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #my writing #billy x steve #harringrove writing #steve x billy #harringrove headcanon

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daemonoferror · 1 year

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Ouuhuhou Scarlet Hollow fanfic, that sounds so good! If it’d be fun for you I’d suggest a little reese fix it moment , like hurt comfort fluff in his basement before stuff goes down! If not that’s all chill too ^^

I'm so sorry this took me like, a month to write- I still hope you like it!

It'll be Okay

Of all the terrible things that have happened this week, being barricaded in a basement against your will isn't the worst. It’s easier to cope with when you tell yourself you're just spending time with Reese. Except he's the reason you're trapped, and he's not the most reassuring person right now. He’s completely restless and jittery. That kind of unhinged, uncontrollable excitement you see people act in movies. He pretends to be okay, but he’s clearly not. He’s just witnessed a betrayal very few have to handle, and no matter how excited for the future he is, the hurt that’s happening now will take a long time to heal.

You’re not very interested in the movie you’re watching. Instead you’re watching him. His wide eyes as he rambles about the aspects of the movie. His fidgeting hands and subconscious foot tapping. His demeanor could seem impatient or annoyed, regardless of the big grin he wears. The movie isn’t fast paced enough to keep up with him. When he interrupts again with a factoid about a scene you haven’t watched yet, you turn the TV off. “A movie might be too much for you right now, man.” You answer his disappointed, questioning look. “Are you feeling okay?

"Yeah, I feel fine- great, actually! My body must be adjusting without the poison. I'm getting better, healthier! I'm doing great!" Reese responds, his words rushed. The reasoning doesn't sit well with you. The poison was flushed out within hours of not taking it? A deadly poison he's been fed for at least a decade? The body doesn't work that fast.

You frown, "Are you sure you're not like, upset? This is a lot to process, Reese, maybe you need to talk about it-”

“I don’t know what there is to talk about!” Reese interrupts you, "The doc has been poisoning me for the past decade, and I've practically been a prisoner down here for the same amount of time." He says, and his smile falters a bit. His bouncing leg is nearly vibrating, he stands up and starts quickly pacing around his room to try to calm down.

You want to drop it, but there’s this sinking feeling, something telling you there’s something wrong here, more than you know. "I just. . . I feel like your mom had to have a reason. Nothing in Scarlet Hollow seems this transparent." You’re a little meek to say it while Reese is doing so poorly. He does tense at your words, for only a moment. From where you're seated, his ears look pointier, his nails longer before he balls his hands into fists.

"You don't have to defend her. And don’t call her that. She lost that right." Reese strains to control his anger, "I don't care what her reasons are, it doesn't change anything." He paces faster, glaring at the ground. The changes you could've blamed on a trick of the light or mind are obvious now, and very real.

“Reese?” You slowly stand up and reach out to him. “Are you-”

“Yes! I mean no- I’m-. . .I’m just mad.” He growls, and brings a hand up to hold his head. He looks taller, his skin a sort of gray color. "Everything I used to blame on my illness was really just because of her. I had to drop out of school because of her. I couldn't go out or hang out with my friends because of her. I thought I could die any day because of her." Each word is spoken with more unearthed resentment until he’s nearly yelling. All of these little changes start to come together to make him look nothing like the reese you know. His sweater tears as his shoulder widen and arms grow. His face droops like molded clay, sharp teeth poking out of his mouth. "And I'm still just trapped in her basement, waiting on her to leave. Why should I wait on her any longer? Why does she get to live when she's stolen my life from me?" His anger boils over to a snapping point. It feels like the world freezes around him as the plan takes shape, staring at the door with wide eyes and new, morbid motivation. "Stay here. I'll be right back." His voice is lower, malice. The monster treks towards the stairs, and you're mortified.

“Reese- Reese please wait-” Your voice trembles witnessing the scene in front of you. The paintings come to life, bubbling under the surface and reaching out for purchase in this world. You try to step towards him, but you can’t move. Looking down, painted hands seep from his art to hold your feet in place. You struggle against it as Reese ignores your pleas.

“This has to be done.” He ensures. He only climbs a few steps before your struggle with the paint ends, squashing it under your shoes with a splat. You hardly think before you collide into him in an embrace. Maybe it was meant more to restrain him- a fruitless attempt against his new beastly size- but it works as a sign of affection that throws him off. He stumbles a bit, and seems to shrink ever so slightly in your arms. It leaves him speechless, frozen in place, with his long arms raised to not touch you.

When you feel him shaking above him, you immediately think you did something wrong- hurt him or angered him- and take it as a sign to step away from him. His breathing is heavy and short, his snout scrunched up and nostrils flaring. His face is twisted in pain. Agonized and conflicted with a far off gaze. His eyes dart to look down at you, the glow in them dims, soft and glossy. One hand reaches out for you, the claws graze your arm before he pauses, wide eyes taking in the look of his monstrous appearance for the first time. "Oh... I'm-... I'm sorry-" His voice is less than a whimper as he pushes past you, stumbling down the stairs with unfamiliar legs.

"It's okay-" You quickly say, following his path until he collapses to the floor with his back to you. "I'm alright." You ensure your voice is soft, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder.

He hides his face as well as he can in his hands, but it is clear when you hear a sob that he’s crying. "Why-" He starts, so many emotions built behind the one word. There's hundreds of things he could ask, questions neither of you have the answer to. "Why would she do this? What did I do? What's… What's wrong with me?" He asks,

"There isn't anything wrong with you. This isn't your fault." You tell him the only thing you're (mostly) confident in.

"Bullshit." He scoffs, and his ears twist down. He finally turns to you and the anger simmers away again. "I was going to kill her. I could've hurt you."

"But I'm fine! Not a scratch on me." You reassure him, sitting down next to him. He flinches a bit when you wrap an arm around his shoulder, removing it to not make him uncomfortable. "Look. I've only known you for like, two days. But I know that you're sweet and kind. I trust that you would never hurt me."

He looks at you, and there's this tiny voice that tells him he could easily crush you, and he feels nauseous. "I don't like this." He sighs in defeat, hugging his arms across his torso. That voice tells him he's lying- like a constant need to be at odds with himself. "I guess… I do though? It's easier to breathe. I just don't-" When he looks into your eyes, he's at a loss for words again. "I don't..." He thinks he'll get lost in them, the nagging thoughts quieting like he's been riddled with stage fright. "I don't want to do something I'd regret." He finally pieces together. "I don't want to be a monster."

You grin softly and take his hand. "You're not a monster. You're Reese. You're human." You tell him, sure in your words. He uses his free hand to wipe away tears that were beginning to form. Finally his features start to shrink into something just more human as he tries to return the smile. A quiet sob bubbles up and he uses all his strength to not start weeping. He awkwardly pulls you into a hug, your face pressed against his chest. He holds you tight, as silent tears roll down his cheeks.

"Thank you." He says with a sniffle after minutes of staying like this, rubbing circles into his back. He holds onto you like a lifeline, and you're not sure he ever intends on letting go of you.

The moment is ruined when you hear stomping from upstairs, and Doc Kelly yelling for Reese. He tenses and squeezes you tighter, maybe too tight. "Hey, it's okay." You mumble, soothing and softly, and his muscles relax enough for you to pull away. You look up at the ceiling, placing in your mind where the mad doctor could be before facing Reese, "Maybe I could try to talk to her-"

"No." He gasps, and you start to see his features shifting again. "Especially not without me." He spits.

Your shoulders droop and you sigh. It was a mad idea in the first place. You decide to change the topic, hoping to distract him. "Come on, it's getting late, you've gotta be tired." You use his loose grip on your arm to pull him towards the bed. He's definitely confused; and probably disappointed you're not encouraging the fight, but he lets you drag him away. You lay down first, and scooch as far back as you can, your back pressing against the cold brick wall.

"Are you sure we shouldn't try to leave now? I don't have to hurt her, I could just like- shove her out of the way or something?" Reese shrugs, hesitant to crawl in beside you.

"I'd rather just avoid her instead of risking it. Please, just humor me? We'll get you out of here soon, safely. Just relax for now."

Reese sighs, "Fine." And lays down beside you. "Do you have a plan then?"

"Take a nap. And at like 2 or 3 am or so we sneak back to the estate." You shrug, scooching towards him to get away from the cold wall.

"What if she doesn't fall asleep?" His voice waivers, imagining the many ways this could end with you hurt.

"We break a window or something? I don't know. At some point she's going to think you simmered down, right?" Maybe it's true your plan isn't great, but even if you're just prolonging the inevitable, it's worth it to be here with him.

"I'm not sure. I don't remember the last time this happened. If this has happened?" He picks at his nails anxiously, remembering the logs of his "episodes" in the book he found.

"Well, we'll figure it out. It'll be okay." You assured him.

"Thanks. For being here with me. And for not running away. I'm glad I met you." He says with a sigh, moving to press his forehead against yours.

"I'm glad I met you, too. And I'm happy I'll get to spend more time with you." You lace your fingers with his to hold his hand, closing your eyes, feeling safe next to him. "You still think you'll come home with me?"

"Yeah." He answers without skipping a beat. "What's it like in your town anyways?"

You snort, "Hm, you'll think it's boring. There's no ditchlings, or mine collapses, or vengeful ghost hauntings." You hum, amused, a small smile tugging at your lips as your eyes droop shut.

"And no one transforming into…" He trails off, but the question is clear.

You hum a negatory. "No one like you. You've got no competition."

It wasn't what he meant when he asked, but your answer made him flush, "Oh… good."

"But I can't stress this enough though: the cat's a complete asshole. He's terrible, you'll love him." You chuckle, and Reese reciprocates it.

"I've never had a cat, it'll be fun." Reese shrugs confidently.

"Yeah? Then you can clean his litter box. He tries to kick all of it out as soon as you're done, by the way. And when he does go he usually misses. He's a terror." You reiterate.

"Damn. Maybe he just doesn't like you. I'm sure we'll be best friends though." He teases, and nudges your arm.

"If he likes you more than me I'm throwing one of you out." You laugh and nudge him back. "I'm kidding."

"You better be! You can't get rid of me that easily." He jokes, comfortable silence falling over the two of you after. "I'm really excited about this. It sounds so nice to just- live and explore the city with you."

"Yeah. Wait till you try all the food you've been robbed of for years." You try not to yawn, "No more plain pasta for you. You're getting the greasiest pizza, richest chocolate cake, soda- whatever you want. I'll even make you anything you want. If you don't get a stomachache in the first week, I've failed you."

Reese laughs, "That all sounds great… more or less."

"It will be." You sigh and mutter after, "I'm just happy to be part of your new life." Your eyes are heavy, yawning again. You want to keep talking but you can't, wrapping your arm around Reese as you fall asleep.

Sleep doesn't find Reese as easily though. He listens for any noise or indication of trouble. His eyes dart to any movement out the window, jumps at every creak in the floor boards above. But nothing happens. Even the ditchlings don't make their regular visits. He finally relaxes enough just to stare at your sleeping face, and he starts to think things will all be okay.

#reese kelly x reader #reese kelly #scarlet hollow #gender nuetral reader #it's 2:30 am i hope i can trust my editting skills

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gummybear1031 · 7 months

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So I watched "Annabelle Comes Home" on Oct. 2 but didn't livetweet it 'cause my dad called. He got y'all's livetweet in real time.

Yesterday, I watched "Mr. Boogedy" and didnt livetweet it because it sucked.

Today! The randomizer picked the new "Haunted Mansion" movie.

It was meh. The Muppets did it better

Spoilers and recap of the livetweet below the cut.

Angriest not-a-ghost tour I’ve ever seen.

Okay, I would actually enjoy this angry ghost tour probably. We do a bunch of ghost and historical walking tours. Also, this hummingbird story is legit the kind of thing people tell me when they say they saw a ghost once.

I like Rosario Dawson’s car and U-haul showing up during Ben’s angry not-a-ghost tour. Nice connection, Mouse.

Thank you, Rosario, for being sensible! Yes, you leave the obviously haunted house before everybody dies.

Fun fact: I was the “You’ll be back!” ghost (well, zombie) at a haunted hayride for several years.

Priest Owen Wilson’s cat is amazing. I want to pet them. They’re so fluffy!

Fr. Owen didn’t read the book. Victor never finished med school!

Action Guy absolutely reminded me of Abuelita with a chancla. So samesies!

Of course, the ghosts refuse to do anything when there’s a person around.

Why does everybody keep missing the ghost in the rearview mirror?

My dad also loves that show, dead sea captain! Like our father-daughter dance was to “Wanted Dead or Alive” because of it.

I know Ben’s pain. Don’t want to be in the house because it’s full of ghosts; don’t want to be outside because it’s too peopley.

He just wants to chill in your house and watch Deadliest Catch. Let him! *Ben opens door* Nevermind. Not cool, ghost.

Danny Devito! YES!

Harriet the Psychic matches every psychic I’ve ever met. This is exactly how my sister does her stuff.

They’ve already screwed up this seance. Don’t break the circle! That’s how y’all get possessed.

“Here’s a pen and pad I purchased at CVS.” This is almost as bad as the Hocus Pocus 2 scene in the Walgreens.

Ben, that is obviously some sort of ghost trick. That is not your wife.

Constance’s husbands’ heads disappearing from the photos is great. But I still prefer Taraji P. Henson’s version of her.

Fun fact: never leave your crystal ball uncovered when not in use. The sun may strike it and set your house on fire.

Sorry, Jamie Lee Curtis, but Miss Piggy did it better.

Is this ghost in middle school? Unscrewing the top of the Zataran’s like that? Also, I have the same seasoning in my house; it’s good, and that ghost should feel bad for messing with Rosario’s cooking like that.

The candle that’s blowing itself out looks really … phallic.

The product placement in this movie is wild. It’s so hard to take them seriously when Ben is sobbing the phrase “Baskin Robbins.”

Hasan Minaj! Why were you listed so early in the credits if this is your only scene?

Crump’s backstory is just wild. Of course he turned into Jared Leto with a backstory like that.

I like what they’ve done with the stretching room.

Winona Ryder? Are you doing a Linda Cardellini impression? Also, this is the worst tour I’ve ever seen. And I was once on a tour where the guy claimed the Civil War was still happening in the 1840s. Twenty years before it started.

Did that spider just scream?

More product placement. I actually like Burger King; their veggie burgers are really good.

Fr. Owen Wilson is going to federal prison. Like, that’s a felony. A pretty serious one if you perform a sacrament.

Prof. Danny Devito is obviously possessed. Ghost, you are really bad at your job. (Is scare people a job?)

OMG. It was almost the professor in the drawing room with the candlestick. Fortunately, Rosario saved the day.

More movies need evil Danny Devitos.

I know Travis is 9, but he’s the dumbest mofo ever.

Okay. I actually feel really bad now. I got depression too, buddy. That said, you don’t think it’s weird your dad sounds just like the Hatbox Ghost?

How did Crump kill a mummy? Did he kill a bunch of people at a costume party?

Is Fr. Owen riding Constance into battle? With her army of beheaded husbands?

Dead sea captain got his boat! Yay!

#haunted mansion #happy halloween #31 days 31 horror movies 2023

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rosemariad · 7 months

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Supernatural Season 11 Part 1

So the consequence of last season's tomfoolery is the unleashing of the darkness, as per Death's explanation before he got sliced by Death (I'm still not over how easy it was to take down such an ancient OP character)

And the darkness is a chick?! Whaaaaaaaaaaa-

Billie starts out in season 11 - okay - I know she's an enemy but I'm a fan of hers. She's sooo beautiful!!!! I love her look!!!! She ain’t takin’ no shit from the Winchesters either. That is a woman I can get behind - sowwwwwwwwwwwwy lol.

Why does Cas have to get fucked up yet again?!?!?!?! Why did Rowena turn him in an attack dog, damn!

The darkness unleashed some sort of virus ala The Crazies - 'member that movie (both original and remake)

The baby we find at the beginning of the season becomes the vessel for the darkness - she grew up so fast lol. Poor baby tho and her family 🥺

Rowena really tried starting a new coven -XD the name was soooo corny Mega Coven, really?! 🤣

I'm glad the sick/crazed Cas stuff is over but its only a matter of time before something else goes wrong with him. It's like the only reason he's kept around cuz lord knows the showrunners don't care about Destiel 🙃

Meanwhile the darkness is out and about as a little girl who's eating a healthy dose of humans, then demons, then humans again, totally unimpressed by Crowley and his shit 🤣

We have to see Metatron again ugh!!! Can someone kill him already?!?!?!?!

He really thought Cas was afraid. Child please. He's angry and he has so many reasons to be, between getting cockblocked by Sam and others, cockteased by Dean, having to compete with Crowley and women for Dean's attention (though where are the women, or is it all about AmaraxDean this season?), getting hated on by Heaven, getting cursed by Rowena and fucked over by Metatron personally and more than once, of course duh!

Sam! Poor baby thought God was speaking to him but it was the devil all along. He wants out of the cage and needs Sam to do it cuz another consequence of the darkness fiasco is the cage weakened some. Shame we didn't get to see Michael or Adam 🙃 (it was a great opportunity to bring back the apocalypse stuff from season 5, but oh well, that's what fanfiction's for!)

So instead of Sam who stands up to this bully, Castiel ends up busting him out (Cas baby no!)

Dean thinks Cas is fine, Dean when is Cas ever fine?! He hasn't been fine since he started helping you stupid!!!!!!! I guess Dean says that cuz he needs Cas to be fine, but my God the powers of Dean's denial are so strong!!!!!

Why Cas, why would you give yourself over to the devil 😭 and he was so passive. He only intervened when Lucifer was choking the shit outta Sam and decided oh wait Sam can’t die Dean would hate me forever I must intercede smh.

I have to say the line “grim face of angelic constipation” made me chuckle XD

That episode was pointless though since the supposed hand of God was useless and those people met their fate anyway - shoutout to that crew and the Woman of Letter Delfine - they were heroes. A somber end having Dean sat on his lonesome at the dock.

Sam watchu mean Cas won’t come back willingly - and abandon his sweet Dean. Never! He’s only doing it for Dean in the first place!!! Cuz the only alternative was for the devil go into Sam and there was no way they were gonna let that happen - though it would have made for an interesting season!

Another guy Dean goes Gaga over tho I’m not sure if its him being a fan or something else 😉 lololol

So we meet Eileen this season - she was awesome! She suffered no fools and took no prisoners lol. Almost killed Sam fucking Winchester. Talk about a meet-cute gone brutal 😂

It was nice to see Bobby and Rufus again - especially at Rufus’ savage top form, busting Bobby and everyone else’s balls 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 when he demanded Bobby tell the truth instead of whatever story he was gonna say to seem cool 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

When he sees that family together at the end 😭 what a softie.

Dean got to see Bobby again…awwwww but it turns out this episode (at least the parts that Bobby and Rufus were in) was during season 4 - and Dean was a prissy bitch! So rude, entitled and ungrateful. Bobby shouldn’t have had to put up with that!

Sam got shot but I wasn’t worried! We got 4 more seasons, he ain't going anywhere. But Dean was losing his mind again…Jesus honey there’s more to life than your baby bro! I mean I understand - he raised this boy, invested so much but this shit ain't healthy. He committed suicide to talk to a reaper who’s told him in no uncertain terms that if the Winchesters die she’s gonna keep them that way. Did he really think she’d be willing to cut him a deal? Hell nah. He’s lucky that doctor was good at his job! And that Sam swooped in and saved the day, survivor that he is!

That poor woman at the end though, so devoid of hope, just like Dean will be in a few seasons (yeah I know about that shit. I’ll address it when I finally watch those episodes).

Speaking of Dean losing hope - he works with Crowley & Rowena to try to save Cas. Why does Sam keep saying Cas ain’t coming back - you don’t know - we’re not in season 15 - lemme stop

The way Dean kept calling out to Cas - poor bby. Of course the devil mocked him, what a dick!

Crowley tried to help too, got beat up by the devil (again) for his trouble. Cas c’mon stand up to the son of a bitch!

Amara came busting in like the baddest of bitches - didn’t break a sweat when the devil attacked her.

Cesar & Jesse - ugh I loved them!!!!! We need more Latinos in this show!!! They won’t be back since they apparently retired but good for them! They got the fuck out!

Lol when Dean assumed they were brothers - they look nothing alike Dean 🤣🤣🤣🤣

When Dean asked what it was like - to tough, swole men together like that - why you curious Dean 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

They were really trying to recruit them - I was like oh heeeeell noooooo don’t wrap them up in your shit they’re too innocent sexy bears you leave them alone!!!!! We don’t need to befriend more people to have them die for the Winchesters enough is enough. I’m still not over Kevin. That poor bby.

Part 2 incoming!

#supernatural #supernatural season 11 #dean winchester #castiel #deancas #destiel #sam winchester #kevin tran #chuck shurley #metatron #crowley #rowena macleod #casifer #Cesar and Jesse #Billie supernatural #Amara supernatural

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undisclosedstories · 11 months

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Prisoner's Dilemma

(This story contains themes of homicide, hostage situations, and espionage. I do not take these things lightly and nor should you)

1402 words

The lights flicker on as Solomon takes in the room around her, it’s an interrogation room, great. She notices his hands are free, which is awfully kind of them, given what she’s done. Noting where she sits, it’ll be a long time… the officer’s chair faces the doorway, a classic move to wear down those who are in for questioning. The tiny chamber is harshly lit with a floodlight, beating down upon clothes and skin. At least the room is warm again, much better than the frozen Canadian wind.

When an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, what does occur? Well here… she’s bound to find out as the officer steps into the room. He’s nicely dressed, well-pressed cyan suit. They hand her a can of diet coke, which she accepts graciously. The interviewer sits down as the crackle of the can fills the chamber with its small echo.

He clears his voice before asking, “Let’s begin with officiating your name. Your first name is Solomon, spelled S-O-L-O-M-O-N. And your last name is Onnit, spelled O-N-N-I-T. Do I have that correct Ms Onnit?” Solomon nods, as that was all she could do at the moment. The interrogator looks her over like she’s a research paper, not a human being. She was a monster to many, and she was more than ok with living that truth.

“So, you joined the Navy Seals when you were 18, going into..?”

“Espionage. I was in that for about 4 years before I worked for the CIA.” He nods and writes it down on some sort of clipboard, a fake smile crosses his lips. “I went into the military for a while as well, though I could never compete at the level of the Seals. Especially since… you know…” Solomon smirks and shakes her head, “I get what you mean. It’s not for everyone.” He nods, thoughts develop in his head to help seek the truth. “What did you think of the CIA Solomon?” Solomon has to think upon her answer, recalling the stuffy atmosphere and the cold nature of those who worked there. “It was alright, they gave me an assignment pretty quickly. Maybe they wanted to get rid of me, but at this point, I don’t care.” The interrogator seems to not like the answer she gave him, “You were forced on a mission, did I hear that correctly.”

“I don’t recall saying something else, sir.” Solomon could feel her hands ball up into a fist, so she takes the available can of Diet Coke and takes a long sip. “Pardon my rudeness, but yes, I was instructed to go on a mission. Though I technically had a choice, they heavy-handed the decision.” He nods, cracking one of his fingers with a satisfactory popping noise.

“And that was to?” “Russia.” Solomon smiles, the atmosphere of the place provides her with sweet memories. “I ended up starting a family there, shame I’ll probably never see them again.” Solomon shrugs, clearly unaffected by this massive loss. She has already had enough time to cry over it. “When you returned back to the States, what happened?”

Solomon looked at him confused, shouldn’t he know what happened? Then again, maybe he doesn’t, or maybe he does and he’s just asking so she can admit to what was done. Does she want to admit to the lies she told, the facade she kept up for years so they couldn’t find out too soon? He looks her over, seemingly looking into her thoroughly. “They surrounded the plane, thinking I was some sort of spy against the US. I don’t know why they did it, they just thought I was some terrible thing.”

“That’s alright, I understand how you feel right now.”

“Do you now?” Solomon raises an eyebrow as she talks, skeptical of some of the forward behavior he has. The man across the room slaps away the dust on his coat and nods. “Feeling trapped, feeling wronged, and afraid all at once. Am I correct in guessing that’s how you feel?” For some reason, as he explains what he’s gathering, the room grows colder around them both. Is it coincidence, or is it someone on the outside tampering with the temperature?

Solomon shudders slightly before speaking, “G-guess so..” she has to take another breath, as something reflects in her eye. A security camera… at least she hopes it’s one, not just the result of her lack of schizophrenia medication. Somehow, someway, the interviewer catches the flash of uncertainty in Solomon’s eyes. “Is something bothering you… Ms. Onnit?” They two lock eyes and she quickly shakes her head. “No no… I sometimes hallucinate cameras.”

“Do you have schizophrenia or something like that?”

“... yes” she sighs, she never does like admitting to that. He nods and writes it down. “Let’s get to the point shall we?” Solomon grimaces, “I guess so.”

“So, you were sent to Russia for an espionage mission, and joined their side?” His voice shifts to accusatory, shifting the room from just a champer to a trap, quickly engulfing her. Solomon shifts in her chair as she shakes her head. “No, I was flying home… apparently they thought I was a traitor and they surrounded my plane.” He seems skeptical as he writes it down, and Solomon notices the pen is dry. He’s not writing anything, so who’s recording this?

“Wait.. this isn’t being recorded right?” His face hits neutrality, as no expressions are made, but he shakes his head. “No, we aren’t. There is no camera there Solomon.” She looks back up where the camera was, noticing its sudden disappearance. Solomon holds her head and grumbles, finishing off her canned soda with one more swig. The man across the table seems to stare him down, waiting on her to say something. “What?” She raised an eyebrow and he sighs.

“You killed 12 passengers and a flight attendant. Do you have any remorse for what you did? 13 people won’t be able to see their families, go home, or do anything now that you put a bullet in them!” He snaps, insulted by the lack of remorse on her face. She sneers, she’s been at peace for a long time.

She recalls the event like it was yesterday, the yelling, the cries of fear. She recalls the pilot informing the passengers to remain calm, that the US military was going to board the plane. Solomon recalls the gun she smuggled in in case of an emergency. She recalls either holding the flight hostage or ending it there. Solomon recalls them landing as she pulls out the gun.

The flight went into a panic as she stood at the door, instructing them loudly to not move or else they all died. Solomon spoke to a negotiator for nearly 5 hours last time she considered it, every now and then she’d shoot some bastard dead to prove a point. Yelling at the phone line in Russian, they couldn’t understand her, but the passengers did. When Solomon yelled, the plane went dead silent.

After a while, and once her agreements were met, she let the passengers go… but not the crew. With said firearm at the door, she yelled at them to fly up to Alaska, no matter what they were originally planning. The smell of corpses filled the room as they took out with only the order of a crazed woman. She barricaded the cockpit shut before taking the parachute hiding in her cubby, and jumping out, skydiving into the Canadian wilderness.

The man snaps to get her attention. “Are you there Ms Onnit?” She shakes her head quickly, pulling herself out of the memory. “Y-yea…” , the interragator sighed. “Sorry madam, I got angry there, I bet we have the wrong person. So what did happen?”

Solomon chuckled “Oh it’s fine, one of the admirals came over and spoke to me. He assessed that I wasn’t a threat, and I was able to get my car and take it upward to Canada.” Solomon lies, pretending to be very knowledgeable on the matter. He rolls his eyes, done with this playing nice. “You know what you did Ms Onnit, you’re a psycho.” Her nose flares up, she giggles, chuckles, and it turns into a maniacal laugh. “Oh… oh… that was a riot.”

He stands up, knocking his chair to the floor. “You know you’re getting the death penalty right.”

“I know <3”

#i try to write #short story #original story #fiction #original work #original writing #original character #writing #hostage #transfem #mtf trans #interview #murder cw #spying

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nonbayanary · 1 year

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ok so. hirusena six of crows AU. hiruma as kaz brekker, and sena as inej ghafa.

hiruma is one of the youngest gang bosses in the city of deimon. he’s armed with guns of all sizes.

as a former street rat, hiruma got to the top by accepting the worst jobs. thus, this earned him his reputation as “the devil.”

sena is hiruma’s spy. this tinyass motherfucker is equipped to the teeth with all kinds of knives and blades. he never goes anywhere without at least five concealed blades strapped to him.

when sena was a child, he was kidnapped from his home and sold to slave traders. then, a small-time gang bought him as their new investment: their runner/gopher.

the first members of hiruma’s gang, “the devilbats,” were kurita and musashi, who grew up on the streets with him. eventually, they squatted in an abandoned building, turning it into their makeshift home.

it turns out a little puppy lives in that abandoned building too. the trio eventually adopt the dog and name him “cerberus.”

years ago, when hiruma was still building his reputation, he woke up one night to find sena searching for records in his makeshift bedroom. it turns out sena was sent by his small-time gang boss to steal from hiruma’s records.

after seeing sena move like a shadow, hiruma realizes the guy’s talent for stealth and speed. suddenly inspired by an idea, he offers sena a way out.

hiruma: i can either kill you where you stand, or you can join my gang. what’ll it be, fucker?

sena, dead-eyed: i don’t mean any disrespect, but i don’t really care anymore whether i live or die. i’m already owned by a gang, though. if you want me to join you, you’ll have to purchase my indenture.

hiruma: oh, so little faith in the devil! i’ll give you a better option, as a welcoming gift of sorts. those cuntass bastards treat you like dirt, don’t they? why don’t i kill the wholeass motherfucking gang instead?

hiruma follows through, committing a massacre that further boosts his reputation. he single-handedly does the whole thing, but spreads stories that kurita and musashi were with him on that night too. it boosts their reputations as well, providing them protection.

freeing sena, hiruma starts teaching him how to apply his talent in stealth and speed into the art of espionage.

as sena starts spending more time with the devilbats, he realizes how kind hiruma is, beneath his sharp and pointy exterior. hiruma may act scary, but he’s just a softie beneath all the gunmetal and rough barbs.

sena starts seeing his new gang as a family. he starts calling musashi and kurita new titles: “kurita-nii-san” and “musashi-nii-san.”

both kurita and musashi warm up to the poor kid. sena used to be so miserable that it activated their “older brother” senses, so to speak. even cerberus starts liking the new kid.

so sena starts healing from all the abuse he went through.

and to hiruma’s surprise, he actually likes spending time with sena too.

after a year of care and camaradeire, sena is finally comfy enough to start cracking jokes. and hiruma, to his own utter shock, finds that the world is brighter when sena’s around. the guy’s like a ball of light, once he starts laughing and smiling again.

and after a few years bonding with sena, it finally dawns on hiruma. he did not only gain a spy. he gained someone precious to him as well.

cue hiruma’s “Oh.” moment

after years of teamwork and gang wars and bloodshed, hiruma finally dredges up new members for the devilbats

as the gang’s reputation rises, a new job presents itself to hiruma. if they succeed, they’ll get five million gold coins as payment. but there’s a catch.

the devilbats are tasked with stealing from the most heavily-guarded prison in the world. it’s an impossible heist. a suicide mission.

but hiruma youichi is nothing if not a gambler at heart.

so he takes the job.

TL;DR: hiruma leads an impossible heist, runs a gang, creates a found family, and commits massacres. all while trying to keep his feelings for sena under lock and key.

it’s all in a day’s work for our little meow meow hiruma.

(yes, y’all can definitely use this prompt!!! /gen)

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eddie-scarpa-lived · 2 years

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given eddie's penchant for doing ludicrously embarrassing shit, i feel like henry would really get that "i want to study him like a bug" feeling toward him. watching him make a complete fool of himself thinking "how does he live like this, if i did that i'd keel over and die on the spot from humiliation"

oh i think there's a lot of similarities and oppositions in them, that's why I'm forever mad we didn't get to actually see them interact!

recently you posted about Henry's fear of humiliation bc of the treatment from the Clemente crew and how he was seen as a spoiled brat because of his connection to Clemente himself - and I totally agree with that. (I originally wanted to reblog and add smth about Eddie but I don't wanna hijack posts about other characters to make them about Eddie hehe)

anyway, Henry has had this experience, but he managed to get through it relatively unharmed (I mean, at least on the outside). He does keep up the appearance of an experienced wiseguy who knows his shit (somehow). does he actually believe in himself? that's hard to tell, but I'm willing to say to some extent yes, he does see himself as someone who is able to survive (I always think of the line from the song "Wait for it" from Hamilton: "And if there's a reason I'm still alive / When everyone who loves me has died / I'm willing to wait for it". thinking about it, there are more parts of the song I would attribute to him). Anyway, he had to "grow a pair of balls" and be tough. Naturally, he'd be terrified of being embarrassed in such environment.

and this is where it's different between him and Eddie. I think as much as Henry's father wasn't the best, he gave him at least some example to follow. His childhood, his family, hell, maybe even his marriage, gave him some stability, some normality, for a moment. Eddie never had that. I stand by my hc of Eddie growing up sort of unwanted, uncared for, with a bunch of siblings that were never home etc., and getting his "example" from the slightly older guys who sort of bullied him, sort of accepted him, gave him booze and let him hang around with them. and he has this sort of pathological obsession with this sort of "friendship".

well, eventually, he got to work for Carlo, his best friend Carlo, and he's absolutely devoted to him. he went through hell for him. he was probably wounded working with him, he went to prison (hc he suffered there a lot, and did a lot of stuff he's embarrassed about), and realized he has nowhere to turn. but because of Carlo's paranoia and the whole Rocco situation, he was eventually promoted to the position of underboss. and I think the main reason he resents it (and drinks so much) is because it makes him even lonelier. he loved feeling "part of the crew", he loved hanging around with the guys, but now he's supposed to do the hard job and be the almost-boss himself, punish people, take their cuts, make the hard decisions, be the "cannibal", be the one everyone is afraid of. and he hates that, because he doesn't believe in himself, he doesn't believe he should have any of this responsibility, he actually feels like he doesn't fit in (bc of the prison experience, bc of his naive belief that the friendship with Carlo is real and pure, bc he's not Italian/Sicilian by birth, bc he doesn't speak Italian, bc he didn't want this position, etc.).

Eddie is rarely embarrassed because when he's lying in the gutter, throwing up in his car, or being punched in the face, he feels like he's getting what he deserves, he's where he belongs, and that it's the real him. Whenever he tried to show genuine emotion, he had people pull away, laugh in his face, or dismiss him for being drunk. Being punched in the face would remind him of being "just the Chicago guy hanging around with the older boys", or maybe even of his boxing times. That's why he'd want someone to do that (in the casino hc). He doesn't wanna be the guy everyone is afraid of.

Long story told short: He's a great company. He loves being a great company. In another life, he would make a great party host, give everyone a party hat, bake an apple pie, and make people sit around the table and engage in small talk. He craves to feel part of things, he wants to be wanted. But things happened, he started drinking, and with the drinking, the darkness started coming out. And when he drinks, he does embarassing stuff, because he loses a lot of the filter and braincells, and just lets all the worst of him (all his insecurities and fears) take over.

I genuinely believe that the late 1920s/early 1930s Eddie was a much more sober, brighter (in the sense of a face expression) person with a sense of humor that wasn't all cynical and dark, because for a moment, he felt like he had a purpose and place in the world, and that he was irreplaceable.

Lol, this got out of hand.

#anyway he's a nihilist and believes that nothing really matters anyway #or maybe rather 'Carlo will fucking kill me anyway so what's the point in trying'#that's like his 1950-1951 mentality #eddie scarpa #henry tomasino

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the-firebird69 · 4 months

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Yeah you came up with a new squirt gun and we're going to test it it's mechanical and it's got a pump and it's electric and it already is one like it but this one shoots like a blaster and far as a beam of light into the blasted water and that's right he says I remember now it's like the Bellagio so Tommy F tried to make it he said Tommy have you make it I'm getting you back and we're going to have that squirt gun fight if that's what you used and he's doing the sigourney Weaver thing for some reason it says I'm not trying to do that I'm trying to do this alone look Stallone not alone and his wife says you better stop that's Hera and there's something that happened today it was huge and it's going on and it might be something of interest it's a huge huge deal we are going to tell you what it is.

My son was being pestered and pestered and pestered at the laundromat and it's our son and he picked the phone up and we're talking and he said stop complaining a little can someone do something and John Riva Lord was there and there's a shop inside Max drop and then saying can you see what's happening here it was ridiculous that stupid f****** prick so Macs saying I don't want you here. And the guy leaned over and said I don't really care and he's saying he's his son and our son says you're not my son you f****** fool I'm 55 years old just s*** and get your f****** ass out of here you're trying to kidnap us while we're here with what a glue gun and the roof he was already upset and Max hit the roof and he said you're f****** out of here in a body bag every time you come here get your s*** out of my store and he said no we have a rental agreement and he said no I didn't say we did and you just moved it in this morning and he didn't Mumble it or anything well you know he might have but you know you never know why it happened and it wasn't on tape so the guy is sitting there saying I don't get this it says you don't have an agreement get out of my place and you don't have an agreement to be there either and he said no cuz after our son left so John remillard left and he said I'll be back then I said no you won't and Mac was going to clear the stuff out the cops came down said they had to complain that he had an agreement to move the stuff and I said no he's over there in that building and it's not mine and I didn't have give him permission to come in here all the time and he keeps doing it and I've called you many times to get him out of here so he moved his stuff in and yeah he's lying and her son says so what this is your enemy you're shooting each other right over there and I'm supposed to give a s*** that you're fighting each other right here what the hell does that mean it means that he's forced his way in and you're not doing anything about it and it's dangerous so he said I sort of get something you're seeing what he's doing somehow I said yes living next door is f****** around with everybody and nobody has any balls around here at all except me who put them in prison looks over you and says wow that's pretty ballsy should have nothing and poor and I put them away and he went to prison off and on nobody else has any balls around here so he said I'm going to have to do something and he hasn't done anything yet so her son says don't worry I'm going to get around to fix it by taking all the rest of the stuff and he said and he said this actually need you to take your stuff out of here and the girl was almost in tears and she said I can't stand it here either this is a dumb place to work right near that stupid courthouse and they're in trouble already so that went on well you were doing your laundry it's not the big deal

-the big deal is we're purchasing these companies and they're huge we kept purchasing them and sitting there swearing and saying stuff and one of them stood up and said I don't have time for this and it got really mad and he said we're the ones in charge it shouldn't be him and we don't know why he's saying all this and doing it and stupid stuff like that and he started to kind of piss his pants a little and he went ahead and he said I don't have any time for this and he stops and he started messing around with people and he went off to do something else and really he's not the big deal

Thor Freya

Olympus

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richardsphere · 1 year

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.Rwby Catchup”: V7 E13

Things Neo can conceal/disguise with illusions: Weapons, Armor, Clothes, entire planes (admittedly hard) Things she cant: The relic. Old Lady starts to go Ice-supersayian. Cinder generics into the scene as always. Renora only just got together and they’re already having their first couple-fight. Oscar abandons crew, because thats going to be smart. Supersayian Oldlady has dementia, Oscar and James about to duke it out for the spear? “I wouldn’t trust me either”. And Jimmy shot the kid. I’ll be honest the whole “turn to the dark side” arc didnt really work for me. Not because i dont believe his dark side, but because i was never really sold on his “light” in the first place. Cant fall from grace when you are introduced without it i fear. (i mean i guess there were a few glimpses. But its more like he’s introduced as a fallen champion then that we get to see the champion fall if that makes sense) Cinders arm just got shattered, thats good? Is it going to stick? No, because it regenerates. I’ll be honest, Cinder still has too much going on in the design, Flaming eyes, Eyepatch, Amputated Monsterprosthesis, little brooch-like thing on her chest, earrings. Like one or two of these things are fine in a design but put it all together and her entire “deal’ gets cluttered. Why are penny’s maiden-flameeyes green? Speaking of Green, Ozpins glowy forcefield/whatever his semblance is is back. Which begs the question: Do all of Ozpins Souls share 1 semblance or is this an a MHA One For All sort of deal? Qrow and Robin are off to prison again while Ozpin talks about fear and the montage implies cinder is afraid of failure. Which is might be the first time we have been given anything resembling a motive for the character. (we are 7 seasons in and our OG Main Villain is only now getting motivations beyond “im evil”) Salem got a backstory before Cinder did is what im saying. Winter’s still on the side of the Fasc, but at least she still cares for Weiss. Penny joins team goodguy (which is good, cause i never bought her on James’ side to begin with) Penny has 2 hands so she can cuddle Ruby and Weiss simultaniously. No Ozpin, i dont understand why Cinder does the things she does, it would be absolutely lovely if she got to have a personality beyond “generic looming threat” please. Wait Watts is still alive? I was under the impression James had executed that motherfucker when he held him by his throat over the arena pit that had been spouting lavaflames earlier that fightscene, and that them dramatically cutting away from his threat to “do whatever it takes to eliminate salem” was meant to imply an extralegal and brutal execution. while Watts’s “I hope you do” was a dignified set of last words before aforementioned extralegal execution. Congrats Watts, you live because the writers didnt have the balls. Pinochio just became the most important person in the arc, and a giant whale shows up. What a suprise. Salem get down from there, you’ll catch a cold. ------------ Final thoughts on S7: It’s basic foundational premise was not sold to me, but it managed to somewhat salvage itself half-way through. I rank it a B-tier season and it’s lucky to have that. The newly introduced villains (ACEOPS) werent really sold to me that well, and Clovers fall-from-grace/death didnt touch me emotionally. (though it sold me on Qrow being sold on it). Nonetheless i did like his character the most of the ops and their dynamic with Qrow was sort of weird, going from “possible loveinterest” to “Dickish Rival” at strange times. I hear that a lot of the FNDM shipped them? I never saw it but i could see where others might. (Also in hindsight: What was the point of using the Tournament in V3 to introduce 3 atlas characters with FNKI and Ciel when 2 are nothing but cameos I know from V9 that the absence of the latter is relegated to a joke).

#rwby

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welcomehomekid · 2 years

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They did though Stephanie and Nick Stephanie and Nick all the girls were so embarrassed because they saw what a piece of dog shit that Stephanie was but Stephanie just wanted to be like Ashley Starr when she grew up then of course Ashley starr has to tell everything and then starr Manning from one life to live has to tell everything she knows on Ashley and then I have to tell starr Manning from one life to live that she needs therapy because she is very confused mentally

Nick and Stephanie didn’t realize of course that there was a higher there was a hierarchy to this sort of thing I don’t feel like those kind of hierarchies are feral… What was are we talking about… I know it’s one of the was why did Stefanie think that she could do that well she will find out the hard way

So when you asked me about the book did you already know something about Stephanie Bryant and why they were never going to cross that line again or was this about Nick and the abuse to my cat that they filmed

Nick said that he was a technology guru… Of course he wasn’t a part of the dark web or the deep web

So when does Nick actually go to prison

I asked him and he didn’t respond so I already know that some of you have him by the balls why didn’t he respond when I asked him if he and Stephanie were afraid of going to the federal penitentiary

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faggyangel · 3 years

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The night Mickey had gotten out of prison was eventful for more than one reason. But the one that stuck out in his head was not a what but a who. It was the first time he met the small red headed Gallagher; Debbie’s mini me; his niece.

After Paula released Ian from her grip, after the strangers fled from the house, after night had fallen and silently hung over the Gallagher house, Mickey walked sluggishly to the kitchen, his body weighed down by exhaustion.

He felt a tap on his lower leg and looked down to see big green eyes staring up at him.

“Who the fuck are you?” He said on instinct, thinking she looked like a carbon copy of Ian before realizing that she looked more like Debbie. He swears they could be twins.

“That’s my kid, Mickey,” Debbie walks into the room, dawning pajamas and a tired expression.

“Oh, that’s right. I remember Ian telling me you’re a mom now,” Mickey looks down at the kid again.

She’s still staring up at him with those same wide eyes.

“Uh, hi?” He says a bit awkwardly.

“Mama,” she said for the first time since appearing, “Who’s this?”

“That’s your Uncle Mickey,” Debbie says, sitting down at the table with a pile of bills.

Mickey’s not sure what happens next because he’s pretty sure he blacks out. He’s not sure how to respond or even if he should.

Uncle.

He stands there dumbly while the kid hops up and down, “Yay!” She hugs his thighs tightly, almost tipping him over in surprise.

He looks at Debbie who glances up for a moment and smiles, “Introduce yourself, sweetheart.”

“Hi, I’m Franny!” She pulls back and stares up at Mickey again, “I like your drawing,” she points to his forearm arm, “Mama won’t let me draw on myself. Does yours? When did you draw it on? What does it say?” Franny asked.

Oh, god, where’s Gallagher?

“Alright, Fran, isn’t it time for bed?” A masculine, familiar voice calls from the stairwell. As if reading Mickey’s mind, Ian descends down the stairs and saves him from the conversation.

“Oh, thank God,” Mickey says aloud, gently moving Franny out of his way while Ian bends to pick her up. Debbie nods to Ian, Mickey isn’t sure what it means but he goes along with it.

“If Uncle Mickey is my uncle, does that mean he’s your brother?” Franny asks naively, resting his face on Ian’s shoulder.

Ian laughs, “No, Fran, you know how Auntie Tami is Uncle Lip’s girlfriend?” He explains gently, while carrying her up the stairs. Mickey trails behind them silently, again unsure of himself and his place here.

“Well, Uncle Mickey is my partner in that same way.”

Mickey’s astounded at how soft Ian’s voice is, how patient and gentle he is with her as they walk to a room that Mickey assumes to be Franny’s. Ian places her down on the bed skillfully, Mickey also assumes Ian’s had experience in doing so based on how comfortable he is with it. How he picked her up easily and without hesitation. How Franny trusted him enough to let him.

“Oh,” Franny says simply, “Okay,” she yawns.

He watches as Ian tucks her in and wonders somewhere far away, from deep within his subconscious, whether Ian expects him to do the same if he couldn’t. Would Ian ask him to pack her lunch or take her to school. Surely not, right? Mickey doesn’t know the first thing about kids. And he knows he’s not responsible enough to babysit one either.

“Can you read me a bedtime story, Uncle Mickey?”

And just like that, Mickey stops in his tracks, his pulse jumping.

“Uh-I-Wouldn’t you prefer Ian-er-Uncle Ian do that?” Mickey stumbles through the words, looking to Ian for help but only finds his boyfriend snickering.

“But I want you to,” Franny whines quietly, rubbing her eyes and pouting. Something about the way she flashes big puppy dog eyes reminds him of someone.

He gives in of course, sighing and sitting down beside Ian on the queen-sized bed. Ian picks up a thin, hardcover book and hands it to Mickey.

“She’ll be out like a light in two seconds,” Ian whispers in his ear, placing his giant palm on Mickey’s shoulder, grounding him.

He shrugs, “Whatever.”

He begins reading, slowly, making sure he doesn’t skip over a word or talk too fast. To his own ears, his voice sounds rough, very Southside, and not very soothing but when he looks up from the book for the first time, he sees that Franny has fallen asleep, curled into a ball.

He also feels dead weight on his shoulder, at some point Ian had leaned against Mickey and now had his eyes closed, snoring peacefully.

He held back a laugh and carefully set the book, watching as his sleeping partner nuzzled deeper into his shoulder.

“Yo, sleepy face,” he whispers softly, watching the four year old stir slightly.

“Mhm,” Ian grumbles, “Whaa?”

“Let’s go to bed,” Mickey nudges him and gets up suddenly, watching Ian fall onto the sheets.

“Dick,” Ian stretches and follows Mickey to bed.

Once they’re settled, Ian tests the water in terms of conversation, prodding slightly at how his day was before jumping into how he felt about reading to Franny.

“Whaddya mean?” Mickey slurs, peering at Ian through the dark.

“I don’t know, I guess I just wanna make sure you’re comfortable with it.”

Mickey shrugs, hoping Ian can feel it, “It’s fucking weird, I guess,” Ian hums, so Mickey doesn’t expand on the idea.

Then Ian says, “You know, you’re an Uncle.”

Mickey’s not sure why he reacts the way he does, his heart thumping in his chest and his throat tightening, but he suddenly feels panicked.

Ian notices; Ian always notices, “It’ll be fine. Franny already loves you.”

Mickey hides his face in Ian’s neck, clinging onto his shirt, “I have a niece,” he says, solidifying the idea. Repeating the fact over and over in his head, trying to make sense of it. He has a niece, and people who consider him family. A sort of sister-in-law who lets him read stories to her kid. It’s foreign and strange and down right stressful but he takes a breath and lets himself feel Ian’s trailing up and down his back.

“You know, you also have a nephew.”

“Shit.”

#summary: mickey meets franny for the first time and realizes he's an actual uncle now #or literally just 1000 words of ian and mickey being domestic uncles #sort of abrupt but i wrote this cause i wanted a distraction #we just found out my father has covid so i really wanted some fluffy goods times thats all #shameless #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #debbie gallagher #franny gallagher #ian x mickey #gallavich #gallavich fanfiction #gallavich drabbles #margo drabbles #and they were uncles <3

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harrieatthemet · 3 years

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Mustache

He has never been keen on sharing.

And Gemma’s mere existence, as well as the small indent on her left thumb she swears is a scar (though Harry vehemently denies it is), is living proof.

Mr Ducky was his favorite bath time companion for a good bulk of his childhood. There were even times he’d carry it around with him in the house tied to a string like a pet, one of Anne’s fondest memories and favorite stories to tell whenever she found the opportunity.

Maybe it was Gemma’s own fault; she was only six at the time and was foolishly under the impression that the stupid rubber toy was at anyone’s disposal, which is what led her to try and situate the duck in her backpack as she geared up for school.

It’s also what led her to tears because Harry caught her on the way out the front door, Mr Ducky in tow, and he instinctively sunk his teeth right into the side of her hand in protest. And, okay fine, he may have bit down a little harder than he should have, but the overall message he was sending came across very clear. Gemma never touched anything he owned again for a very, very, long time; and eventually went on to tell everyone in her class she had a vampire as a brother.

“What do we think of this little number,” your hip jut, innocent as it was, just now became a permanent memory in Harry’s brain, “too much, like.. revealing?”

You like nice in red; devilish, even, and in the best way possible. There’s nothing revealing about the dress at all. Somehow, though, he finds himself perched squeamishly at the foot of your bed in complete fucking anguish. In theory, no, the dress is not too much. It’s the perfect ensemble and flatters you so well he feels like whoever made the dress conjured it up with you specifically in mind.

And no, it’s not too much, for literally anyone else except him. How is such a modest dress enough for him to think you up the way he is right now; bent over in front of him with your hair wrapped tightly up in his palm while that dress lays in a sloppy ball by his feet.

“Would be nice with nude shoes,” he mules, “like, those sandals y’ave, yeah?”

The way your eyes light up, that same way they always do when your mind starts to move at light’s speed as you start assembling a million different ideas into one, is enough to tug a grin onto his mouth.

He didn’t really want to agree to this. When you texted first to ask he ignored it, that way you’d have just carried on without him and he could blame a busy schedule or an overrun nap on his delayed response time. It’s much easier to blame a missed text for no response. Of course it’s not in your nature to send a text, and he knew that already. So it came a son surprise when he was bombarded by 4 phone calls. By the fifth one he had picked up, succumbing to you and just the flat out unfulfilled urge he had to hear your voice at the other end of the phone.

“Seriously Harry,” your voice is like fucking honey, sweet and sullen like it always is, and he’s in euphoria listening to it as you poke your earring through the lobe of your left ear, “it’s just, y’know I don’t- I’m nervous and I appreciate you helping me do something as stupid as picking a dress.”

“S’not stupid,” he reassures, “y’know I just like spending time with yeh, since y’so busy ’n stuff.”

Which is true. That’s the only thing that got him over here; and he rescheduled a zoom call just to sit in your bedroom for all of twenty minutes. Not one part of him regretted it, either.

“I’m busy?” You tease, “coming from the A lister who’s in London, than LA, than New York, London again, oh, than LA again oh, then ‘sorry love, m’in Tokyo.’”

Also true, he knows that, which is why he’s snickering at fault in response to your harmless teasing. He wouldn’t say it now, mainly because he doesn’t want to make it weird, but regardless of where he falls on the map he somehow still finds a way to fit you in. He’s never minded doing it, either.

Twenty minutes isn’t enough. Maybe another twenty more could be a sufficient amount. That’s almost an hour, right? Forty minutes is almost a full hour with you and he’d love to get even that much. Or twenty more hours, even, would be that much better. It’s better for him to think of getting more time with you than to let his thoughts wander and remind him of where you’re getting ready to go off to.

A date. It’s why he was so hesitant to come here. It’s hard enough as it is being a prisoner to his own thoughts, being around you and not getting to interact with you the way he actually wants; kiss you the way he wants, touch you the way he wants, hold you and talk to you the way he wants. Adding a new element to the mix, another man getting access to you the way he wants, well that’s just mental warfare.

You don’t know anything about though. And thank God, because if you could get a peak into his thoughts and see just a preview of what he thinks he almost knows for sure you’d ice him out in a heartbeat. He’s got a soft spot for you, nonetheless, which is why he swallowed the massive-sized lump in his throat when you told him you needed help on an outfit for a date and b lined it over to your place.

“Who’s this guy, anyways.” He chimes, following you similar to that of a lost puppy as you start heading towards the staircase, “Like, wha’s he look like ’n stuff.”

Immediately after he asks he wishes he hadn’t. The way that pesky fucking lump reappears when you wiggle your eyebrows in response, stuffing your hand into your leather purse in an attempt to fish out your phone. A simple response like ‘handsome’ or ‘he’s a nice guy’ would’ve sufficed for him. Seriously, that’s all he needed. What he didn’t need was an entire fucking slideshow of an above average looking guy. And he had a cool mustache, to boot, which really pissed Harry off for some reason.

“Should probably shave,” he squints his eyes at the photo you’ve got propped right in front of his face, trying his hardest to act like he isn’t so fucking jealous of that mustache, “kinda looks like a squirrel on his top lip."

“If I didn’t know you so well,” you tut teasingly, “I’d think you’re a dick.”

“You know me so well and still don’t think that?”

He likes the way your laugh sounds, and it makes him happy that he said something amusing enough to drag it out of you. And the toothy smile you pair with it practically knocks the wind right out of him. Everything you do seems to wow him, corny as it sounds. It makes him feel so at ease, and the butterflies he gets each time gets him reminiscing to the days where he was just a kid and had the worlds biggest crush on the girl who sat three rows ahead of him in grade school. He’s giddy and he doesn’t want you to leave for this date.

For a second he thinks about doing something elaborate; breaking his foot or faking an illness so that you literally have no choice but to hang back and look after him. That’s selfish though, and honestly just crazy and super fucked up, so he opts out of that. But he doesn’t want you to go so bad he seriously considers it, especially as you start sorting through the downstairs closet to find a coat that doesn’t clash with your shoes.

He could just be honest. He could just tell you that he doesn’t want you to go, solely because he’s absolutely infatuated with you and for every hour he’s awake and functioning you manage to consume every thought he has. He could just be an adult and tell you he’s got feelings for you that very much surpass a platonic, friendly demeanor. That might be a better way into persuading you to stay back with him than breaking his fucking foot.

“Ok now wait a minute,” he chokes, and there’s a painful twang that strikes his gut when you frown, “gotta tell y’somethin’.”

“What,” you groan, and he swears he would rather die right now than do anything else, “it’s the shoes, right? They make my calves look like I’m a running back don’t they?”

He wants to laugh but he thinks if he opens his mouth he would projectile vomit everywhere. But the thought occurs to him that if he does that than it would be an excellent excuse for you to skip the date. Though, of course, he runs the risk of grossing you out and absolutely humiliating himself all in one go of it.

So he shakes his head no. In fact he loves the shoes, and they make your ankles look slender and really compliment your legs quite nicely. Still, he’s scrambling to string together a coherent sentence because his brain is working a lot faster than the muscles in his mouth are and it feels like someone just super glued his lips shut.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace,” you tease, and the cheeky wink you shoot him over your shoulder just edges him even more if that’s possible at this point, “Styles.”

“I don’t want y’to go on this date, (Y/N).”

He’s well aware that he blurted that out in a way that he really, really, wish he hadn’t. Now the air in the room is stale and heavy, dense too, like someone just sucked all the air out and left the two of you here with nothing to inhale but words and unspecified tension.

And he’s starting to get more anxious as your playful manner dissipates. He can tell your puzzled not just be the demeanor of your face, but by the stance of your body because your letting shoulders hang the way you do when you’re a little uncomfortable.

“Oh,” you breath, and his chest starts sinking inward, “okay, I just- well why not? Do I not.. like, do I look bad or something?”

“No,” he coos, and he feels like the worlds biggest asshole when you start to frown, “No y’don’t- Christ, (Y/N) y’look amazing. Y’always look so fuckin’ amazing. It’s just-”

“What,” you huff, “than what is it, than? Why wouldn’t you want me to go?”

He’s really done it now. The proper thing to do would’ve just been to let you go, walk out with you and watch you drive off before he headed home himself. The proper thing to do would’ve been for him to just go home and think about you on a date with someone other than himself, curled up in a ball watching a Friends episode he’s already seen four times while he felt sorry for himself. But that’s not what happened, and what he should’ve done was just broke the fucking foot like he initially thought to do. That would’ve been less agonizing than this.

“Because,” he’s frustrated now, not with you but really just himself, “I should be taking y’out. M’absolutely in love with yeh, (Y/N), and I don’t have a cool mustache but I could take y’out on a date, ’n I want to so bad.”

There’s still that dense energy looming in the room, and his gut now too as he feels it winding up tightly in an anxious bundle of knots and twists. You’re not saying anything and the only thing he notices is that you’re breathing is vaguely staggered and your clutching onto that purse in your hand like he’s about to snatch it and run off. God, he should’ve just broken the foot!

“Please don’t go out wit him,” and now, his voice is small, “think it might kill me.”

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