irelalala

[cripplemagics]

❛  hey, sometimes you gotta kill a guy.  ❜

Jay's ready to protest. Except the moment their mouth opens, it closes again. Is it fair to rebuke someone for expressing an opinion they've held in the past? Considering they've killed Elias before - and ignoring the fact that he came back to life - they're not on any moral high ground here.

"You know what?" They place their hands on the table. "You're right. Sometimes the situation calls for someone's unexpected death. So uhm, is this one of them?"

[theostrophywife]

mattheo's mixtape.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader.

song inspiration: lovesong by the cure.

author's note: this idea has been in my head for so long, but now it's finally out. strap in babes, we're simping for mattheo on main. something about those pretty brown eyes and angelic little curls just get me. your honor, i adore him.

The bell outside the door to the record store chimed softly as the boys ventured inside. Mattheo peered curiously at the buzzing neon sign, the slightly scuffed black and white vinyl floor, and the racks and racks of records lining the walls. Though he hadn’t been to the muggle side of Edinburgh, it didn’t look all that different from its magical counterpart.

Yet Mattheo felt like a fish out of water all the same. 

Behind him, Theo continued rambling as they perused the vast collection of records laid out before them. “What songs have you picked out? Is there a theme? We’ll need to collect all the tapes for the cassette recorder and compile them all into a single tape.” 

The slew of questions Theo threw his way was enough to make him feel overwhelmed. Mattheo was well aware that he was completely out of his depth here, but he was determined to learn. Admittedly, he was quite ignorant of the muggle world until you came into his life. The more you told him about the queer customs and traditions of the non-magical population, the more he began to crave your stories of taking the tube, eating fish and chips until you were sick, and visiting Brighton with your cousins over the summer holiday. 

There was a whole world out there that you were a part of, which made him want to be part of it as well.

“You boys alright?” asked the kind woman behind the counter. "Would you like some help?"

Mattheo shied away from the attention, but as usual, Theo turned on his charm and flashed a winning smile at the older woman. “As a matter of fact, we do,” his friend drawled. “My mate here is looking to make a mixtape for his girlfriend.” 

The woman smiled warmly. “How sweet. I remember those days. There’s nothing quite as magical as first love,” she said with a dreamy, faraway expression. “I’d be happy to help. What songs did you have in mind?” 

After turning over his list, the woman, who turned out to be the owner of the record store, helped compile the cassettes Mattheo needed in order to make the mixtape. She patiently showed them how to record each track and slowed down the instructions so Mattheo could diligently write down notes. 

As Mattheo waited for the next track to record, he watched as Theo tried and failed to flirt with the older woman. 

“I’m flattered, dear. But I’m old enough to be your mum.” Mattheo snickered, causing his best friend to glare at him. 

“Age is nothing but a number, Annette.” 

“You’re a persistent one, aren’t you? I’m sure you’ll find your match someday, Theodore. As I have in my husband, whom I’m happily married to.” She turned over to Mattheo and smiled. “He was my first love too.” 

Making small talk had never been Mattheo’s strong suit and you often teased him that engaging in polite conversation with a stranger every once in a while wouldn’t kill him. Without fail, he sarcastically responded that it genuinely might, which earned him an eye roll. A fond one, though. Followed by a lip bite as you attempted to conceal a smile. 

“How long have you been together?” Mattheo asked curiously. 

“Twenty years,” Annette answered proudly. “Though we were friends for ages before he finally mustered up the courage to ask me out.”

Theo snorted. “Sounds familiar.” 

Mattheo swatted the back of his head. “My girl and I started out as friends too. Best friends, actually.”

“Hey!” Theo whined. “I take offense to that. I’ve known you longer. Only difference is that you and Y/N snog, which I’m more than open to if you asked.” The wink he sent Mattheo's way made the other boy blanch.

“Sorry about him.” It was a sentiment he was quite familiar with when it came to Theo. The twat tended to flirt with anything that had a pulse. Come to think of it, he wouldn't put it past Theo to chat up a corpse. Merlin knows Mattheo had witnessed his friend trying out a pick up line on the Grey Lady. “So, your husband. When did you realize he was the one?” 

“There wasn’t a specific moment, per say,” Annette said thoughtfully. “It’s a culmination of our history together. Since we were friends for so long, Declan just knew me. He knew how I took my coffee and had it ready for me first thing in the morning. He knew that I hated driving in the snow and always offered to give me lift to work when it did. He knew that I had a soft spot for strays and never complained when I brought them home. Declan makes me feel safe. Like I could weather anything the world threw at me as long as he was by my side. I guess when you know, you know."  

Mattheo pondered her words. He couldn’t help but recall all the times that his life felt like a never ending shit storm, like it would swallow him whole and drown him from the weight of his troubles. Yet at the end of the day, he always knew that after the storm came the rainbow. That’s what you were for him. You colored his world so brightly that the dark seemed inconsequential compared to your light. 

“Y/N makes me feel like that too,” Mattheo declared. “She’s patient and kind. She’s the type of person that always sees the good in people. She saw it in me even when I couldn’t see it myself.” 

Behind him, Theo sniffled as he patted his shoulder. For all his jokes and sarcasm, his friend was actually a hopeless romantic deep down. “For Salazar’s sake, Mattheo. Don’t make me bawl like a baby in front of the pretty lady.” Theo wiped at the corner of his eyes rather dramatically. “If Y/N doesn’t marry you someday, then I will. I bet my legs would look amazing in a white dress.”

At that, Mattheo chuckled. He was suddenly glad that his best friend was more than willing to be dragged along in Mattheo’s endeavors to impress his girl. Salazar knew he never would've gotten this far without Theo's self-proclaimed expertise on all things muggle, thanks to his Advanced Muggle Studies class.

As they wrapped up, Mattheo thanked Annette for all her help. Theo promised to come back and winked over his shoulder as Mattheo gathered all of his supplies. The older woman smiled at him as they parted ways.

"Best of luck, Mattheo. Though I doubt you need it. Thank you for indulging an old woman. It was genuinely a pleasure to be able to help you today."

"No, thank you. Y/N is going to love it."

"Your girlfriend is a very lucky girl."

Mattheo shook his head. "I'm the lucky one. This is the least I could do to show her how much I..." he trailed off, trying to find the right words. "How much I care for her."

Care didn't seem like a strong enough word, but it was close. Mattheo wasn't sure he could fully verbalize the intensity of what he felt for you. You weren't just his girlfriend. You were his best friend, too. His confidante. His rock. You were everything to him.

“Remember what I told you. When you know, you know." She patted Mattheo's shoulder. "You talk about Y/N like I talk about my husband. It's clear that she's very special to you. Don't let go of that one."

Mattheo smiled to himself, his cheeks flushing. “I won't.” 

The midnight moon glowed above the Scottish Isles, enveloping the rocky shores of the Black Lake with a chilly breeze that made you shudder even underneath the comfort of your red and gold striped sweater. 

“Are you cold?” Mattheo asked softly, his voice echoing through the empty beach. 

Before you could respond, your boyfriend shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. With a shy smile, you thanked Mattheo and flushed as he took your hand in his. As you continued on your late night stroll, he cleared pebbles in your path to ensure that you didn’t trip over them on the way to the dock. 

It was the little things—the small gestures that Mattheo enacted on a daily basis that made you fall for him even more. Though the relationship was fairly new, the connection between you was undeniable. Perhaps because you started out as potions partners, which eventually blossomed into friendship and now you couldn’t even remember a time when he wasn’t part of your life. 

The two of you settled at the end of the dock and the rickety wood creaked underneath the weight, adjusting to its visitors as Mattheo cuddled you into his side. Warmth radiated off of him, heating you from the inside out with a pleasant flush. Mattheo chuckled as you shoved your cold hands underneath his sweater, curling his fingers around yours and warming you up like your own personal heater. 

“So, why did you want to come out here tonight?” you asked after a moment. 

As you peered up at him, the moonlight kissed your boyfriend’s features, illuminating the sharp edges of his jawline and cheekbones, curving down the slope of his nose and stopping right above his Cupid’s bow where his soft, plush lips curled into a shy smile as he blinked down at you. 

The flush on his cheeks was almost an exact match to the crimson scarf around your neck. He absentmindedly fidgeted with your fingers, his chocolate brown eyes flickering over your face nervously. Mattheo looked so shy and earnest, so unlike the bad boy persona that everyone else seemed to attribute to your boyfriend. 

“I made you something,” he stated. You watched as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cassette tape that you hadn’t noticed before. “I noticed that you listen to music while studying or walking through the halls, so I thought I’d compile a few of my favorite songs for you.” 

Your heart warmed at this beautiful boy. “You made me a mixtape?” 

Mattheo nodded, his angelic curls grazing his cheeks. “I can’t take all of the credit. Theo helped me quite a bit. I wasn’t sure how to make the tape for you, but he did since he’s taking Advanced Muggle Studies. We went into town last weekend and this lovely woman from the record shop showed us how to track and record the songs. I picked the ones that remind me of you the most.” 

You looked down at the cassette tape and smiled. The front was covered in little red hearts and spelled out in your boyfriend’s familiar scrawl was Matty’s Mixtape. As if that weren’t enough to make you swoon, underneath the tape was a small booklet with more of Mattheo’s handwriting. You smiled at his selection of songs. There was a mix of Queen, the Cure, the Clash, and of course, the Smiths. It was like having a little piece of Mattheo in your hands.

“I made you a booklet too. There’s a tracklist with reasons why I picked the songs,” Mattheo shuffled beside you, his body language conveying an uncharacteristic shyness. “I also drew a couple of things.” 

Sure enough, the booklet was filled with your boyfriend’s drawings. Your eyes filled with tears as you turned the pages. Mattheo rarely showed anyone his art. He was incredibly protective of anything he created since it showed a certain vulnerability. The fact that he was trusting you with it wasn’t something you took for granted. 

You traced over the drawings with a fond smile. There were portraits of you on one page, while the others contained memories that you were quite attached to. Your first date at the Three Broomsticks. The first time you wore his quidditch sweater to a Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw match. The day you shared a cup of hot chocolate at Madam Puddifoot’s when the two of you were just friends. They were all in here, immortalized on paper. 

Beside you, Mattheo watched anxiously as you flipped through the pages. When you got to the last one, you grinned up at him. “Matty, these are incredible.” 

“Really?” He asked, sounding a bit unsure. “You don’t think they’re cheesy?” 

“No, I love it!” You threw your arms around him and squeezed your boyfriend into a bear hug. He chuckled, burying his face in your hair and savoring the feel of you in his arms. As you pulled away to face him, Mattheo tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His heart hurt just to look at you. He really couldn’t believe you were his. You smiled softly. “And I love you.” 

You said it firmly, like it was a matter-of-fact. Like you were reciting a truth as fundamental as gravity. 

“You love me?” 

“I do,” you replied with a smile. “I love you, Mattheo Riddle.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely positive.” 

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to say it because I made you this mixtape and gave you cheesy drawings—”

He stopped mid-sentence as you grabbed his face with both hands. Mattheo softened at the fierce determination in your eyes. “Mattheo. You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. Before that, you were the best friend I’ve ever had too. You treat me like a queen and I never have to worry about other girls trying to talk to you because you never even give them the time of day. You make me soup when I’m sick. You give me your jumpers when I’m cold. You bring me coffee when I’m pulling all nighters. I couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend, so yes. I love you. Not because of the mixtape or the drawings, but because you’re you.”

Mattheo was taken aback. Before you, he never thought he was capable of caring for someone so deeply. You were ingrained in him. It was like the universe had cleaved his soul in two and he’d spent an eternity searching for you. You were his other half—the better half of him that he’d been missing all along. Now that he found you, he had no intention of letting you go. 

The lovestruck expression on his face warmed your heart. His eyes—those sweet, warm brown eyes made you feel weak in the knees. Mattheo cradled your jaw and looked at you like you were the only girl in the world. 

“I love you too, Y/N.” 

You smiled as he leaned forward, bringing your lips to his in a tender kiss. He sighed in relief like he’d been waiting for this all day, fingers snaking through your hair as your body melted into his. Mattheo hummed, peppering kisses all over your face. You giggled as he pecked your cheeks, nose, jaw, and neck. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he declared with every kiss. 

Burying your face into his neck, you inhaled the familiar scent of amber, cinnamon, and leather. Mattheo sighed as you scratched his scalp.

“Will you tell me about the songs while we listen to them?” you murmured against his skin. 

Mattheo nodded as his curls tickled your cheek. “Of course, sweetheart.”

He pulled out a cassette player and popped the tape in. You cuddled into his side, smiling as he presented you with one half of the headphones. The soft crooning sound of the Smiths filled your ears as Mattheo played with your hair, telling you little anecdotes about the band and how Theo almost knocked over the cassette recorder while he tried to flirt with the record shop owner. 

You chuckled as you listened, picking up the sweet lyrics that made Mattheo choose the songs in the first place. You loved each one of his picks, but the best song by far was the sound of his heartbeat thudding in your ears, syncing with your own as it beat for him and him alone.

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in your Area 9

masterpost

“Good morning!”

Jason winced and moved the phone a little further from his face. “Is this Doctor Fenton?” 

“It's one of them! What can I do ya for?” Jack Fenton boomed, just as bombastic as his newsletter made him seem. Jason knew, deep in his heart, that Jack Fenton was indeed the one who had selected green neon bold for his headings and borders. 

Angels wept. Jason scrubbed his palm over his eye. This man had no poetry in his soul. “I, uh, had some questions about a ghost. I've read some of your articles and your most recent published paper on the topic.”

“We love ghosts!” Fenton bellowed. “Ask away!”

“Do you know a ghost called Phantom?” Jason tried.

“...Sure do,” Jack Fenton said. “Whatcha need?” 

Jason cleared his throat. “It's somewhat complicated,” he said evasively, because he didn't need these people to know he was the Red Hood. Fuck. He should have either gotten his helmet stored away or not given his real name. Phantom knew his face and that his name was Jason. Any information that got around via Phantom might tie his face to his alter ego. If Phantom said he got married to Jason, the Red Hood, that could lead to the end of the Bat family vigilantism.

“...He cause you trouble, sport?”

Jason let out a slight laugh. “You could say that, though it wasn't really his fault,” he admitted. He cast a paranoid eye out the window to be sure no siblings were creeping on him. “No, it's really more that…” Fuck, he should have planned this better. “Is there any information you can give me about how a human could contact him?” 

Not that Jason didn't have a phone number for the guy. But it made him very uncomfortable to have any basic knowledge or way to track Phantom down if he decided to leave Jason to whatever was going on. 

“I could probably do that,” Jack Fenton said slowly, now sounding like an entirely different human being. “Say, you wouldn't be Jeremy, would you?”

Jason blinked. “...How did you know?” He went with. Phantom had contact with a human guy named Jeremy? That might be his in.

“Oh, well then, you've definitely got to come over,” Dr. Fenton wheedled. It somehow came across as shifty. “You'll be wanting a whole primer on how the Ghost Zone works, won't ya?” 

“That would be immensely helpful,” Jason agreed. “But I'd hate to take up your valuable time.”

“Nonsense!” Fenton bellowed. Jason nearly lost his grip on his phone in surprise. “Come over Jeremy, I'm dying to meetcha!” 

So, there was a plan. Jason packed for a day trip and dialed up his travel agent. 

“Fuck off,” said Tim. “I'm busy. Christ.” 

“I need an airplane ticket and a rental bike to Illinois,” Jason continued. He tossed his mostly full bag on the sofa and went digging for the socks he knew he had washed the other night. “I'm going to go see some nerds about my impromptu adventure the other day.”

Tim groaned. That was the first Jason had given any hint at all about what had happened to him when he'd been ‘sacrificed.’ “What nerds?” He asked wearily. 

Jason grinned into his sock drawer. Gottem. “Why, do you all know each other?” He asked blithely. 

“Do you always antagonize people you want favors from?” Tim whined. A keyboard clacked rapidly in the background. “Jason, I swear to God, you massive bitch. Cut the crap and communicate, or I'm hanging up.” 

Jason frowned at his socks and grabbed a random pair. “You don't gotta be like that,” he said sulkily. He slammed the socks into his bag with a very unsatisfying silence. “So, the ritual doohickey sent me to the infinite underworld, I met a guy there actually and we are magically connected because he's who that dumb ritual matched me up to. He doesn't want to be stuck with a human so we are on the same page about breaking this. We started looking for answers and he took me back to Earth since it's not good for humans to be in the green dimension for too long.” 

There was silence from the other end of the line for a few seconds. “You're fucking lying,” Tim said. 

“Only by leaving things out.” A bit stung, Jason pulled a hand through his hair and accidentally ruined his good hair day. 

“What are you leaving out?” Tim rejoined swiftly.

Jason laughed at him. “You think you're getting that kinda information in exchange for plane tickets?” He asked incredulously. 

“You are the most annoying person who has ever tried to kill me.��

Ouch. That genuinely stung.

“Fuck off.” Jason slammed the drawers shut. 

“I could guess aliens or supernatural off of what you just said.” Tim ignored Jason’s very good point. “Based off of your trip to the Gotham U campus and-”

“Are you still stalking me?” Jason cut him off, incredulous. He scoffed. “Little buddy, you already got my pixie boots, Red Robin costume, and my Dad. What else do you wanna take from me?”

“I think that you were there to assess Daniel Fenton,” Tim ignored him.

Jason was silent for a moment. There was probably no point in pretending that Tim was wrong. “You already knew about the Fenton’s connection to the supernatural.” He was suddenly tired.

“His older sister is an intern at Arkham, she stepped out of line to get a chance to talk to Jeremy Waters.” Tim didn’t seem to notice that the mood had changed. He was caught up on whatever twenty level plan was whirring away internally.

Jason looked at the wall for a moment, not bothering to think about why that name was familiar. “...and that is…?”

“The guy who kidnapped you, keep up,” Tim snarked. “Her supervisor guessed what she was hinting at, shut her down, put a note about it in the private server so there was a paper trail if she turns out to be a collaborator.”

““Private” is a strong word to describe that server.” Jason rubbed at his jawline and hefted his bag out to the bathroom to gather his shaving kit. 

“Mmhm,” Tim said blandly. “I bugged her phone. The signal is absurdly bad, unexplainably bad. She doesn’t send a lot of messages, but she had a very suspicious call with Daniel Fenton where, among other things, she hinted she had inside knowledge regarding some kind of local mystery, possibly criminal activity. Her brother accused her of supporting crime.”

Jason groaned. “I’m going to interview their parents.” He checked that the razor blades were stowed away correctly before snapping shut the travel case. Then he noticed that his bathroom mirror could use a wipedown. He left his bag for a moment to dig for the cleaner.

“Probably for the best,” Tim said, definitely misunderstanding his purpose. “They seem…” He trailed off when he couldn’t find an appropriate adjective.

“You should read a book,” Jason said, because he saw an opportunity to be an asshole. “Anyway, I wanna get out to the area tonight and see them in the morning. What’s my flight?” He spritzed the glass and watched his reflection blur. It was oddly comforting to not have to stare at his green eyes.

‘That ghost zone was the same green as the Lazarus Pits,’ Jason thought dully. He didn’t really want to think about it. But he had a pretty good idea why he hadn’t had the reaction to the place that Danny expected a human to have.

“Kon could take you,” Tim said sweetly, which was basically a death threat. It was enough to jar him back to the real world. Kon was still not feeling chill about the Titans Tower scuffle. It probably wasn’t good for him to be so petty, but Jason was not going to be the one to tell baby Superdork that.

Jason winced. “I was thinking more like United.”

Tim snickered. 

[lovebugism]

Halloween is not really a big thing in my country so our october is as lame as every other month 😭

What do you think about sunshine/ditzy!reader planning her all on pink Halloween costume and eddie trying to convince her to go as something from one of his fav horror movies, or something silly like as a gremlin.

I love everything you write so I'll be happy with anything really

ily <333

ty angel! hope you like it! — eddie and his ditzy gf have trouble deciding on matching costumes (established relationship, fluff, ditzy!reader, can be read as a modern!au, 0.8k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

“You don’t like my costume?” you wonder, all pouty in your pretty pink leotard and biker short duo. 

You’ve mastered the Barbie look — at least from what Eddie can remember. You’re only missing the neon rollerblades and matching yellow kneepads. You’re the prettiest, most vibrantly colored ball of sunshine he’s ever seen in his life.

“I love your costume, babe, don’t get me wrong…” Eddie assures as he rises from the couch, flashing you a rosy grin as he shakes his head. “But I am not wearing tights.”

Your pout deepens at his refusal to match with you. He was the Ken to your Barbie, after all — even if he wears so much black he basically absorbs all the light in any given room. “But why?” you ask in an unabashed whine.

“‘Cause if I knew I’d be wearing biker shorts for Halloween, I would’ve started doing squats three months ago.”

“But you’d make such a nice Ken!”

Eddie’s chocolate eyes narrow. “Do I look like Ken to you?”

“Well… No,” you answer, faltering only slightly when your gaze darts across the pale features of your wild-haired, metalhead boyfriend. “But it’s not like I look like Elvira!”

Eddie’s face twists like he’s tasted something sour, he’s that offended by your words.

His matching costume idea was the total opposite of your bright pink and sporty one. He wanted you to be a beautiful, shadowy thing hanging on his side in all black — the Mistress of the Dark to his Prince of Darkness. He still gets a little giddy thinking about it.

“Are you serious?” Eddie scoffs, playfully insulted and loud with it. His voice booms across the trailer as he takes you in his arms, curling his calloused fingers around your elbows. “You’re a total smoke show, babe— you’re killer. That’s, like, the only prerequisite.”

You roll your eyes at his compliment, though it has you blushing something fierce. 

Self-loathing was always hard with Eddie around ‘cause he thinks you’re the prettiest thing that’s ever walked the Earth. You’re not quite as certain as he is about it, but he says it with so much confidence that it’s hard to disagree.

“I do have a great set of boobs…” you lilt quietly, eyes flitted to the ceiling as you imagine yourself as the bombshell from Eddie’s favorite movie.

Your quoting of the film, along with your subtle reconsideration, has him grinning. “Yes, you do,” he affirms with a rapid and boyish nod. 

His gaze falls to your breasts, squeezed tight by the spandex fabric clinging to you like it was made to do it. His face heats with embarrassment when he notices he’s all but ogling at you. Then he realizes he doesn’t have to be embarrassed because you’re his girlfriend. It’s his job to ogle at you. It’s fucking metal.

“And an incredible pair of legs…”

“Exactly.”

“…But I still wanna be Barbie.”

Eddie’s grin never wavers. “Figured.”

“But you don’t have to be Ken if you don’t want!” you affirm quickly, eyes as wide as your glittering smile. “You can still be that weird, freaky singer guy that bit the head off that bat that one time.”

“Ozzy Osbourne,” he corrects.

“Yeah! We can just compromise. Easy peasy.”

Eddie deflates with a dramatic huff. His features twist in a puppy-like pout as he pulls you closer to him. “But you know I hate not getting my way,” he whines, mostly playful.

“I know,” you hum with a sympathetic smile. You gravitate towards him without thinking twice, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you press your chest to his. “But it makes sense, right? I’ve always been like Barbie, and you always liked me anyway… Right?”

He hates that you’re even asking — like he hasn’t been head over heels for you and stumbling all over himself since the day he met you. “I mean, obviously.”

“And you’ve always been a freak! And I’m, like, fucking obsessed with you—” you ramble, as bright as sunshine, until you realize the weight of your words. You grow abruptly serious. “No offense.”

He keeps on beaming like a lovesick idiot. “None taken.”

“And Halloween’s a cool way to represent that, right? Like, yeah, we’re different and we’re hot. Screw couples’ costumes!”

Eddie grows so suddenly fond. His chest warms and sparkles with it, like his dark eyes that melt for you. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“I know,” you shrug, still smiling. “I usually am.”

He grins wide before pressing a kiss to your smart mouth. It’s an innocuous peck — a meshing of plush lips and a lingering there. A quiet smack fills the tiny trailer when he parts from you just to pout, “You know I’m gonna have to walk behind you all night to keep people from staring at you, right?”

You giggle when his warm, calloused palms smooth over the outsides of your hips. “You do that anyway, Eds.”

“Well, yeah,” he responds, shrugging like it’s obvious. “‘Cause the view’s so nice.”

[tainted-liquor]

⟡'Big Ass Attitude ☆ [21.10.23] - ft. Earth42 Miles G. Morales

☆彡 Ingredients: sugar, kisses, n a lil bit of smiles!

"Mamita, date prisa! Vamos a llegar tarde!" Miles called from downstairs, struggling to make his tie look normal. You groaned, adding the finishing touches to your makeup and gently gracing the shimmery silver brush across your nose and cupid bow. "Uh, yeah, Miles! I can't beat my face any faster," you groaned, throwing your brush back into its drawer with a little more force than you'd like to admit. "Please don't start, lil' girl," Miles replied, his low and slightly irritated voice filling your ears as he made his way up the steps and into your room. He leaned against the door frame as he looked you up and down, analyzing your beautiful red dress before turning his attention to his white collar.

"Oh sure, I won't start! Miles, get the fuck out of my room," You huffed, raising yourself from your ivory desk chair and making your way over to Miles. He gave you a sharp glare, eying you up and down with his mismatched emerald green and deep hazel eyes. "What did I just say?" he warned, rolling his eyes ever so slightly before stepping aside, giving you full access to the black-rimmed mirror on your bedroom door. "Mhm, whatever you say Gonzalo!" you muttered, nodding your head with faux compliance as you smoothed out the smooth and shiny fabric of your red dress. "Where'd you say we were going again love?" You asked, doing a half-turn in the mirror to see what your dress looked like from all angles.

Miles chuckled lowly at your usual snide remarks. It's not that he didn’t care, you just always wanted the last word and he thought it was funny. The way you’d stop him mid-sentence, pressing an unwavering finger to your lips as an indication for him to stop talking. He never got bored of the way you’d grab whatever it was you wanted, eagerly gesturing to whatever the new item of interest was before asking, no, telling him that you were gonna get this one. IT worked out perfectly, with Miles being fine with virtually anything while you dragged him along with you for every bumpy ride you had in store.

The red glittery material twinkled under your room's industrial white lighting, casting soft red highlights on the warm white of your bedroom walls. You fluffed out your curls, leaning on one leg as you gave yourself a final look through the reflective glass. While waiting for Miles to answer, you eyed him through the mirror, watching as his eyes became transfixed on your dress. He watched as the shimmery fabric found purchase on every ounce of skin it could find, highlighting every beautiful imperfection in its shiny path. Dear god, he won.

"Well damn, you wanna borrow it next?" you chuckled, turning around to face him before grabbing your bag from off your vanity desk. He cleared his throat, snapping his eyes shut before letting out a half-amused sigh. "I got tickets to this fancy-ass theater from my coach...something about MVP," he shrugged, holding your upper waist like the most precious gem in the world. To Miles, you were nothing short of something carved and molded from angels; their gentle and heavenly hands spent years perfecting their craft to give birth to the most gorgeous model to ever walk the clouds above. You were too beautiful to walk the heavens, so here you breathe, blessing the world with your beauty.

"You ready to go? We got like 35 minutes, 'n I still wanna watch out for traffic” He reminded, putting away most of the makeup you left open on top of your maple oak vanity. "Yeah, c’mon,” you nodded, quickly shoving your perfume, lipgloss, house keys, and phone into your small handbag. You gasped when you reached the car, earning a soft and concerned glare from your boyfriend. His beautiful face glowed under the soft glare of the moonlight and New York neons, properly illuminating the depth in each of his facial features. “¿Qué pasa, qué necesitas?” He queried, instantly turning around to see what was wrong. 

You looked up at him, deep black irises shining and glittering under the ghostly hue of ‘spotlight’, placing your delicate hands on either side of Miles’s shoulders. “I left my bracelet in the house…can you get it for me pleaseee~?” You whined, leaving a soft trail of delicate kisses along the side of his jaw and right next to his lips, barely ghosting his now-prominent dimple as a love struck smile creeped up on his face. He nodded drunkenly, eyes filled with nothing but adoration as he ran back in the cozy apartment to look for your glimmering rose-gold bracelet. He made quick work of tearing up the entire house, not stopping until he came across the gorgeous piece of jewelry then darting back out the door. Everyone else may know Miles to be a stoic and quiet young man, but that well-kept façade always seemed to crumble when faced by you.

“Thank you, boo!” You chirped, climbing into the passenger seat of Miles’s all black Tesla, courtesy of his uncle for his 17th birthday. The seats were ice cold, creating a numbing clash against the body heat of your skin as you felt goosebumps grow across every inch of your uncovered skin. This didn’t go unnoticed by Miles, who wasted no time in taking off his suit jacket and draping the soft silk across your shoulders in a heartbeat. “¿Estás bien?” He questioned, quickly starting up his car to jumpstart the heat as he reached to connect his phone to the car radio. You nodded, quickly smacking his hand away as you connected your phone to the speaker system instead.

“I give you my jacket…and you smack my hand?” He chuckled, giving you a small eye roll as he used one hand to guide himself out the crammed parking spot. You nodded, smiling at him brightly as you let the bass of ‘Not My Job’ by Flo fill the empty space of Miles’s car. “You always play like…CD osama or something-“

“DD Osama, love” he sniggered, biting back a louder laugh that threatened to leave his lips. You rolled your eyes, gently smacking the nape of his neck as he giggled louder. “Miles shut up you know what I meant” you scoffed, pretending to be annoyed and leaning against the passenger door, watching the city pass you by as your boyfriend broke into a fit of laughter. “Yes ma’am,” he corrected, using his free hand to hold the back of your seat's headrest, gently patting the plush leather to the rhythm of your playlist as you talked his ear off about your plans for the future. “And then, I wanna go into theatrical arts. We should buy a cute lil house for the two of us when we graduate! I’ll decorate it, and it’ll be soooo fuckin’ cute,” you rambled, scanning Miles’s features every now and again to check that he was really listening, and he was.

He clung to every word like a mother clinging onto her energetic baby; filled with pride and joy as her beautiful baby girl scoped out the world around her and mapped her way through the fog. He nodded along, keeping his eyes on the road but still sparing you attentive glances while you ranted about your sudden surge of baby fever and hopes for your future. It hadn't even occurred to you that the bumpy and traffic-clad ride was now long over, with you and Miles having found a spot in the parking lot over 15 minutes ago. Miles was leant over the cushioned arm rest, one hand supporting his head while his other wrist rested on his arm. “Oh shit, Miles, why didn’t you tell me we were here?” You gasped, quickly grabbing your things as Miles ran to open your car door.

“Sorry. Didn’t wanna interrupt you” He beamed, taking your hand in his as he led you out of the ink-stained vehicle and closing the door behind you. You lead Miles forward to the entrance, almost like you had been to the unfamiliar establishment before while your boyfriend followed closely behind you. He chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder while he mumbled dangerously close to your ear. 

“I’ll let you know next time. I love you”

Taglist !♡

@ashsostrange @chessbox @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoist @milesnanana77 @niaurluv @sp1derw1re @ban-al3x @we-loveebony @kae2kaee @dxrlingcc

[freelancearsonist]

all that we see or seem

➔ Dieter Bravo x AFAB!Reader

➔ 5.7k words

➔ You moved to Hollywood in hopes of chasing your dreams; you get a lot more than you bargained for from your new boss, Dieter Bravo.

➔ Rated MA // dark fic, reader is afab (female anatomy, no pronouns used) and generally able-bodied, age gap (unspecified, reader is younger than dieter), vampire!dieter, blood/both consensual and non-consensual blood drinking, knife use, slight self-harm, gore of the mouth variety, pet names, takes place in 1983 bc i’m a sucker for changing settings

➔ this was requested from this prompt list by the very lovely @sp00kymulderr!! happy birthday darling, sorry this took so long but i hope it's worth the wait <3 thank you so much to @missredherring for this AMAZING header graphic ily 🖤

Los Angeles is a far cry from the little town you grew up in. It’s a seemingly endless maze, with more possibilities than you ever could’ve dreamed. It’s a little daunting, really. You step off your plane with your suitcase in hand, and you feel like the world is in the palms of your hands.

The harsh reality comes crashing in without warning.

LA is expensive, especially on your own. As the money you’d saved up to get you started dwindles much quicker than expected, your dreams only get further and further out of reach. Life always finds a way to fuck you over, and the city of angels does it quicker than anywhere else. The glitzy neon nightclubs and the glamor of Hollywood swiftly become an omen of doom rather than a beacon of hope. You’re in over your head, but it’s too late to back out now.

Auditions get put on the backburner. You work yourself to the bone as a server in a dumpy little diner, but it’s still barely enough to cover your basic expenses.

You wake up, you go to work, you come home, you go to sleep. The cycle repeats itself so quickly that your days all merge together into one, long, neverending nightmare.

The light at the end of the tunnel appears shortly before the first anniversary of your move. You’re scanning through the paper during your meal break when you see a help wanted ad. It’s normally the type of thing you would ignore, but a few things about it draw you in. The part that really catches your eye is the large, bold letters that proclaim “work closely with one of the biggest names in hollywood!” It seems too good to be true, and certainly something you’re not qualified for. But it could be a start–a way to get your foot through the door of the industry that brought you out here in the first place. Really, what’s the harm in trying?

You go to the library, type up your resume, and mail it in to the address listed in the ad. Realistically, you know that there must be hundreds of other applicants and you probably won’t get so much as a rejection letter back; but the needling little ‘what if’ in the back of your mind gives you a boost of hope that you’ve lived without for an achingly long time.

You get better than a letter–a broad, handsome man shows up at the diner late one night asking for you three days after you drop your resume into the local mail slot at the post office. Janine, the shaggy-haired waitress you work with almost every shift and have sort of become friends with, nudges you excitedly while you’re handing a ticket back to the kitchen.

“Honey, do you know who that is?” She nods her head over her shoulder towards a table in the corner of her section and you try to look over as nonchalantly as possible.

Of course you know who that is. His face is everywhere in this stupid town–magazine covers, billboards, movie theaters. Even with sunglasses obscuring the dark brown eyes that have made thousands swoon, you recognize Dieter Bravo. He’s bigger than Hasselhoff and Swayze combined.

“He’s asking for you,” Janine whispers. “By name. You know him?”

“Not yet,” you answer truthfully. You know without a doubt that he’s here because of your resume and that your entire world is about to change.

You’ve seen him on the big screen before and now you can definitively say that it doesn’t do him justice. He’s more handsome than any man has a right to be. He’s wearing a black hoodie and black trousers, an ensemble that stands out in the brightness of 1983 but yet perfectly complements the tanned tone of his skin. His shoulders could fill a doorway and his smile might actually melt you into a puddle. You can’t help but notice–with a hint of trepidation–that his canines are the sharpest you’ve ever seen, although that thought is quickly pushed from your mind when he greets you by name.

“Your resume is impressive.”

“No it’s not,” you respond with a little laugh before you can stop yourself, then you have to refrain from banging your head into the wall. What a great start to an interview.

But he laughs, and you can’t help feeling you’ve done something right. You’d do a hell of a lot worse just to hear that gorgeously deep, hearty chuckle again.

“Okay, I’ll rephrase. You said all the right things. You’ve got exactly what I’m looking for as an assistant.”

You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, because this is much too good to be true.

“You’re not from LA,” he states factually. “What brought you here?”

You consider lying–coming up with some story that’s less pathetic than the truth. He’s appreciated your honesty thus far, though, and you don’t want to break a streak. “I wanted to act, but… it’s hard to get started when you don’t have any connections. So I’ve just been kind of… getting by.”

He nods and gives you a look over–assessing, you think. “We all have to start somewhere. But this isn’t an easy job.”

There’s something unreadable in his voice, but you choose to ignore it because you want nothing more than a chance to impress him. It’s not about ‘making it’ anymore; it’s about proving to Dieter Bravo that you’re worth taking a chance on.

“Neither is this,” you reply with a vague wave at the diner around you. “If I’m not covered in fryer grease at the end of the day, it’s a good job to me.”

He chuckles again and it washes over you like fresh water after years of drought. You want more of him–more of his charm, more of his warmth.

“When can you start?”

You ask for two weeks to leave your diner gig on good terms, and he’s gracious enough to accommodate you. As the days tick past, the anticipation ramps up and time seems to move slower. You’ve never been so excited for a new job. Normally, your gut twists with anticipation and your mind swirls with every little minute detail that could go wrong–but not now. No, now you’re just excited. The possibilities of Hollywood finally seem to be within your reach again, and it all starts with this job.

You learn a lot about Dieter within five minutes of starting on your first day. For one, he’s incredibly personable. He greets you himself and vows to show you the ropes. There’s no third party to teach you everything you need to know, it’s just him. Just the two of you. You appreciate that immensely, because you’ll be serving him directly as his assistant. There’s no better person to learn from when it comes to his desires and routines than the man himself.

Two, he wears many different masks. It’s a little spooky, the way his demeanor changes depending on who he’s dealing with. He can be the sweetest, most charming man you’ve ever spoken to, then turn to a producer and be a complete hardass all in the name of getting things done. He knows exactly what persona he needs to wear for each person he interacts with–it’s all very calculated. You suppose all actors have to be capable of that; the mark of a good thespian is being instantly able to pretend you’re someone you’re not.

Still, it’s a little chilling. If you didn’t see it in some form or another with every person you meet on set, you’d be a little concerned. Dieter just makes it look like adaptation–fitting into his surroundings as a means of staying afloat. He’s been in this industry for a long time, he knows what works; and, subsequently, what doesn’t.

As far as the job goes, it’s a nice change of pace from what you’ve become accustomed to. You spend nights on set with him, fetching his coffee order or running little errands while he’s busy shooting. The hours aren’t unreasonable, and it pays double what the diner did. Now that you’re not struggling to get by financially, you have the free time you need to start pursuing your dreams again.

You have only Dieter to answer to, which is a definite learning curve. Directors, producers, and even other actors chase after your favors, but Dieter tells them unequivocally to fuck off. You’re his–it’s a heady feeling each time he  reasserts it. It makes for easy work when you’re not being pulled in thirty different directions simultaneously. He asks for what he needs when he’s around and he gives you a list of tasks to complete when he’s not. He’s a little eccentric–he tells you he can only work after dark because his eyes are sensitive–but it’s nice, falling into a routine after so long of working unconventional hours at a job where no two days are the same.

Still, as days turn into weeks by his side, you wonder exactly what version of Dieter he’s presenting to you. Which face is the most authentic? You want to believe he’s himself with you, but you’re not quite naive enough to convince yourself of that. The thing that bothers you the most is that you want him to feel comfortable enough to drop the facades around you. You want to get to know the real Dieter Bravo, underneath all the masks. But you also swore to yourself, when you accepted this job, that you would be nothing but professional–and wanting to get to know him so intimately is definitely a step beyond just being his employee.

To his credit, he’s strictly professional–even if you wish he wasn’t at times. There’s a lot of rumors and gossip about him, about his hedonism and the life he supposedly leads at night, but you don’t see that facet of him. With you, he’s friendly, kind, and respectful. He’s the perfect gentleman–and that’s how you know that you’re not getting a full glimpse of the real him. There’s too much contradiction between the rumors and the Dieter that you interact with. 

No matter how straight-laced you try to be, you can’t help wondering what it’ll take to get a look at the real Dieter Bravo.

You think he starts to peek through when Dieter asks if you would be willing to work longer hours and be more of a personal assistant than a production assistant. You know him inside and out, he tells you, and it would be a pain in the ass to teach a whole new person how to deal with his errands. He even offers you a sizable raise when you pretend to be contemplating it, like you weren’t bursting at the seams to say yes before he even finished asking. 

The sad–maybe even pathetic–truth of the matter is that you’re falling for him. Every facet of his charm, from his darkly passionate eyes to his easy humor, have you completely bewitched and ready to ignore the way your hair stands on end each time his gaze meets yours. You’ll take any small fraction of him that you can get.

He eases you into your additional duties, at least; that much can be said in his favor. He starts you out with small tasks, like ordering his groceries and picking up his dry cleaning. Dieter’s so kind and patient as he explains how he likes everything done–he’s particular, but not unreasonable. He even gives you a grand tour of his home so you can see exactly where and how he likes everything done–it’s like finally getting that real glimpse of him that you’ve been hoping for.

His Sherman Oaks mansion looks like something straight out of a Bram Stoker novel on the outside, yet the inside is a testament to the warm side of his personality that you’re more familiar with. It’s decorated in shades of orange and red, with patterns that are a little out of date but still manage to feel intentional. It gives the impression of someone who was more comfortable and sure of himself in the 70’s, or at least someone who hasn’t quite adjusted to the new trends that came with the turn of the decade. The walls are covered with art–most of it signed with his familiar “DB” in the bottom right hand corner. It’s neat, but not so neat that it feels staged. It fits the Dieter Bravo that you know perfectly, and it even starts to feel like home to you when you start spending more time there with him.

There’s never anyone else around when you’re there. For someone who has a reputation for throwing the liveliest parties in all of Hollywood, he doesn’t actually do a lot of partying. Not when you’re around, at least. It’s almost like he’s trying to hide that aspect of himself from you. If he has to host, he sends you home early or lets you know in advance that you’re getting a paid night off. You’re almost disappointed–parties have never really been your thing, sure, but you feel like you need to experience at least one of his.

Plus, people are starting to talk. You hear it on set first; his co-stars whispering about how he’s gone soft, how he’s gotten boring. Even the tabloids are starting to wonder if they’ve seen the last infamous Dieter Bravo party, which were once highly coveted and exclusive events. The few times he’s hosted lately have been small, quiet affairs–definitely not the big, star-studded shebangs that he’s gained a reputation for.

A rumor even starts circulating that he’s finally decided to settle down with a nice girl, which makes your stomach twist with a little green monster that shouldn’t be there. He’s your employer, you reason. That’s all. No matter how friendly he is, no matter how much he flirts with you, no matter how much he compliments your perfect cup of coffee, that’s all he is. Your boss. And yet, despite your constant self-assertion, your brain just can’t seem to accept it. You know you shouldn’t want anything more than that, and yet you just can’t seem to stop yourself from hoping.

“What’s going on with you?”

You’re in the midst of trying to sort through the files in his upstairs home office so you can find out when his insurance needs to be renewed when you hear the voice, loud and clear due to the open floor plan downstairs. Sound travels like crazy up the double-wide staircase with Dieter’s office door right at the top. You couldn’t shut it out even if you wanted to–and you don’t. God help you, you’re a little nosy and a little curious.

“Nothing.” That’s Dieter’s voice, but you don’t recognize the other.

“Bullshit. You’re not yourself.” It’s a deep, rich tone that you’ve never heard before and it immediately has your interest hooked. Dieter doesn’t get many visitors, much less such purposeful ones. Most people like to schmooze him, but evidently not this unidentified man.

“I’m trying to be different,” Dieter explains half-heartedly. “It’s time I cleaned up a bit.”

“No. Cleaning up your act is nothing more than a good way to get yourself caught. Things happen in the party climate, that’s how you fit in. Things don’t just happen to nice rich actors.”

Caught? Caught doing what, exactly? You creep closer to the open door on light feet, curiosity peaked.

Dieter sighs, and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “I’m tired.”

“So what are you going to do? Just give up? Waste away after… how long?”

“Maybe I should,” Dieter retorts–there’s grit in his tone now, maybe even bitterness. “Maybe I never should’ve taken the deal in the first place. You don’t see how fucked up this all is?”

“So, what? You’ve gotten everything you could’ve possibly wanted, and now you’re tired of playing the game? Pathetic.” There’s a sneer in the tone of this unidentified speaker and you don’t like it. You want to jump to Dieter’s defense, but something tells you this is a conversation that you shouldn’t be eavesdropping on.

“Whatever, man,” Dieter scoffs dismissively.

There’s noise downstairs now–a slight thud and what sounds like Dieter grunting as if the wind has been knocked out of him. 

“What changed?”

“Fuck off,” Dieter spits.

“What. Changed?”

“You weren’t fucking honest with me.”

“Bullshit,” the stranger growls back. “You knew exactly what you were getting into.”

“No, you said everything I wanted, that was the deal. Remember?” It’s quiet for a long moment, and you wonder if Dieter’s pacing. He does that, when he starts to get stressed. “I’m still alone, though.”

“That’s your own fault,” the stranger replies–voice a little softer now. “I didn’t say I would hand you your dreams on a silver platter. You make your own destiny. Surely it hasn’t been so long that you’ve forgotten that little qualifier.”

“I can’t bring someone else into this shit and you know it,” Dieter replies. The venom is gone from his voice now–he just sounds done. Exhausted and spent.

“You can, but you won’t.” There’s a moment of silence, then a heavy sigh. “Start acting like yourself again before you raise too much suspicion.”

“Fine,” Dieter sighs heavily. 

There’s a few long moments of silence, and then you hear the heavy solid oak front door shut. Presumably the guest has gone, and while you’re eager to sneak down and see if you can catch a glimpse of who it might’ve been, it’s far too risky with Dieter down there. Something tells you that he should never find out about the way you just eavesdropped on that conversation. You don’t know who he was talking to, or what kind of deal they were discussing–you just know that it’s serious, and definitely above your paygrade.

“Did you find that paperwork?”

You didn’t hear Dieter come upstairs–his sudden question from right behind you makes you jump and whirl around to look at him. You fight to keep your calm as you catch your breath; the last thing you want to do is clue him in that you overheard his conversation with his unknown guest.

“Yeah, I’ve got it right here,” you answer after a thick gulp.

“You’re a doll,” he proclaims with a wide smile. How easily he picks up the face he wears with you after a conversation that clearly upset him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you hum with a smile. “This entire room is a nightmare. It’s a miracle you ever find anything. You need to get, like… some filing cabinets. At the very least.”

“I’ll, uhh… get right on that,” he says in a way that makes you sure he definitely won’t get right on it.

Despite the nerves still thrumming through your veins, you laugh. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You’re a doll,” he repeats with his trademark grin. “Oh! Hey, uhh… you have tomorrow off. Paid, obviously.”

“Why?” You ask before you can think better of it. 

He seems surprised–you don’t normally ask questions, especially about paid vacation days. “Work stuff I gotta take care of. No big deal.”

“Okay,” you answer with a slight frown. “Sure I can’t help?”

He actually does seem to be contemplating it for a moment–his eyes scan over your body, and it’s like he’s considering you more than the actual offer. “No, honey, I’ll be okay.”

“Okay.” You take a short breath, then head towards the door–this was the last task on your list for the night. “Anything else you need before I head out?”

He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head as he follows you down the stairs. “No. Thanks, sweetheart.”

You feel heat fluttering underneath your skin at the pet name–he uses them often and they never fail to make your heart pick up pace. It’s like he can tell, because his eyes linger on your lips for a moment before trailing down to the pulse point on the left side of your neck. You wonder for a second if he can actually see it beating, but you quickly push that ridiculous thought away.

“You’re sure there’s nothing I can do for you tomorrow?”

His eyes are still trained on your neck like he’s completely zoned out or something. You watch as his tongue slowly glides over his bottom lip, trance-like; it makes your breath hitch in your throat.

“Yeah,” he whispers after a long moment–he’s standing so close now, you didn’t even notice him closing in. “I’ll call you if anything comes up.”

“Okay.” You want nothing more than to grab him and pull him in, to kiss him like your life depends upon it. He sounded so upset and every bone in your body is screaming to comfort him. The way he’s looking at you right now, you don’t think he’d mind at all. 

Instead you take a deep breath, grab your bag from the bench next to the door, and bid him goodnight.

Dieter doesn’t seem to realize that you’re always working, whether you’re on the clock or not. Even on ‘off’ days, you get loads of calls for scheduling requests and other tasks. Your saving grace is your trusty day planner—it holds both of your schedules, all neatly color-coded for maximum efficiency.

The worst thing you could’ve done on a weekend leading up to awards season is leave it in Dieter’s home office—and yet, as you frantically dig through your tote bag and your desk, that seems to be exactly what you’ve done.

You know Dieter’s got whatever event he’s hosting at home, but you can’t keep taking calls and scribbling notes on napkins without your schedule in front of you. The last thing you want to do is overbook him at a time where every single interview counts.

With a heavy sigh, you dial Dieter’s home number. It rings for what seems like eternity, and just as you’re about to hang up an unfamiliar voice answers.

“Hello?”

With a sigh of relief, you ask, “Hi, is Dieter there?”

“He’s busy.” The voice is high and sweet, yet her tone says she couldn’t be more irritated.

“Okay… umm, it’s kind of important.”

The stranger sighs dramatically. “I can take a message.”

“I just… I left something there, and I need to come get it as soon as possible. But I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

This time when she speaks, her tone is considerably more friendly. “Oh! Yeah, come on over. The more the merrier!”

You can’t help your intrigue, although you really don’t want to intrude without Dieter’s say-so. “Are you sure? I could always come tomorrow, I guess.”

“No no, come! It’s a party, everyone’s welcome!” Then the line goes dead without any further discussion.

You consider redialing in the hopes of speaking and clearing your visit with Dieter, but you doubt you’ll actually get through to him–and really, what harm would a quick visit do? You know exactly where you left it, on the desk in his office. It’ll be five minutes tops, a quick in and out. He might never even know that you’d been there.

You shake off the curious sense of foreboding that overtakes your mind as you grab your keys and lock your apartment door behind you.

It’s a twenty minute ride to Dieter’s house–a lot of time to spend thinking. At the forefront of your mind is that peculiar conversation you overheard last night; you’re not entirely sure why, really. Whoever that man was sounded almost as if he was in some kind of position of power over Dieter, and you don’t have even an educated guess at who that could possibly be. Dieter’s his own boss and he doesn’t take bullying–you’ve never heard someone get away with bossing him around like that before. He’s constantly in some weird form of pissing match with the directors and producers of whatever film he’s working on; he’s never seemed to be good at taking orders, even when he’s supposed to. You’ve heard many a rant about how much he values the ‘freedom of expression’. It all serves to make the mysterious visitor more confusing. Who does Dieter have to answer to?

The cab pulls up in front of his gated home before you’re able to find a plausible answer. You instruct the driver to keep the meter running since you’ll only be a minute before you step out into the crisp late-January air.

The grounds are a lot quieter than you expect them to be as the guard on duty opens the gate and closes it behind you. One thing Dieter’s famous for is noise–his parties are always reported as loud and exciting affairs akin to the fraternities in his favorite movie Animal House. There's no noise at all today, though, and it makes you curious. Is it really a party? Or was the stranger who answered the phone maybe his only guest? If the latter is the case, why would she want you to join in?

There’s a pale man in a cheap-looking suit waiting just inside the door, a tray of filled wine glasses in his gloved hands. “Take one,” he instructs, his eyes distant like he’s looking through you rather than at you.

“Oh, no thank you, I just need to–”

“Take one,” he repeats. “Master’s orders.”

Master? Of course Dieter would be into that. 

The wine is a deep red, probably that expensive vintage shit that he’s always raving about. You prefer the grocery store stuff yourself, not just because it’s all you can afford. A drink never hurts, though, and you could certainly use something to take the edge off–because that tingling sense of foreboding has only gotten stronger since your arrival.

You take a glass and swirl its currant-colored liquid around. It seems more viscous than any wine you’ve had before–probably a mark of its age, but that’s just guesswork on your part. You take a small sip, then nearly gag. It’s like drinking a pile of melted pennies. You swallow it down with a grimace anyway since you don’t want to make a scene of spitting it out in front of the server. It leaves a metallic taste in your mouth that you’re eager to wash out–thankfully, the kitchen is on your route to the stairs. You quickly deposit the glass on a table once you’re out of the server’s eyesight, then head down the hall in a desperate search for water.

Once you’re out of the foyer, there are people everywhere. Very subdued people, at that–draped over furniture like throw blankets, some even laying on the floor. You consider checking one’s pulse until he twitches and lets out a muffled groan. Clearly high on something, you’re just not sure what. You nearly trip over one person and they actually hiss at you like some kind of feral cat. Your skin starts to crawl with every step you take. Even more important than your discomfort, though, is finding Dieter. What if he’s like this, too? Do you need to call someone?

You notice a dull ache starting in your gums as you make it to the kitchen–thankfully you’re familiar with his home, and you have a glass of water in your hands within no time. It seems that no matter how much you drink, though, that coppery-bloody taste never leaves your mouth. What the hell was that stuff?

There’s a short-haired blonde woman propped up against the wall underneath the mounted phone; she reaches out a lazy hand in some sort of greeting. She looks vaguely familiar, like someone you might’ve seen on the set of one of Dieter’s films.

“You made it!” She says with a lazy smile. She must be the woman you spoke to earlier, although you’re not sure how she can identify you.

“Yeah. Where’s Dieter?” The longer you’re here, the more worried you become. Something isn’t right, and your skin is prickling with apprehension.

“Upstairs,” she murmurs, then her eyes flutter shut and she slumps a little further down. She’s visibly breathing, at least. 

For a moment, you consider picking up the phone and ringing the police. Would that cause more harm than good? Dieter must be aware of what’s going on here–you know you should talk to him before you do anything.

Your mission to find your planner momentarily forgotten, you make your way through the living room towards the stairs.

You check the office at the top first–there’s a few bodies zonked out on the couch, but none of them are Dieter. With trepidation in your very soul, you make your way down the hall. Each room is more of the same–people in varying states of unrest, no sign of the man you’re looking for. Most of them have red-stained lips and you eye more than one smashed glass along your journey. Your own mouth is starting to get alarmingly sore, but you ignore it in favor of finding Dieter.

Each step you take drives your worries deeper into your skull. What if something’s happened to him? What if he’s knocked out like all of his guests, or hurt, or something worse?

This is the first time you’ve breached the bubble of his bedroom. None of your work has ever involved this room, and while you’re a naturally nosey type of person, there’s something deeply personal and sacred about the space someone sleeps in. 

Ignoring the steady throbbing in your gums, you knock once before pushing open the door.

Dieter’s alone in his room, sprawled out like a starfish in a sea of rumpled sheets at the center of his massive bed. Something akin to a groan of horror escapes your throat as you see the state he’s in. He’s paler than a corpse and drenched in sweat, chest barely rising and falling with breath.

For a moment, you’re frozen in place. Your entire body breaks out in a cold sweat as you notice the knife in his right hand and the deep gash in the crook of his left arm, right where an IV would normally be set. You can smell the blood draining from him, you can even taste it in the air–or maybe that’s just the lingering taste of whatever you drank downstairs.

Your stomach churns violently with the sudden realization of what you’ve done, of what you’ve drank.

“Dieter!” You manage to choke out while your brain tries to remember how to send the signals required for your body to fucking move. 

He lifts his head shakily, brown eyes widening after a long moment of trying to recognize the face he’s looking at. “No no no,” he whispers hoarsely, “you’re not supposed t-to be here. You’re.. y-you’re supposed to be a-at home.”

A sharp, shattering pain in your top gum snaps your brain back into action. In a flash you’re crawling across a seemingly endless desert of mattress and it feels like you’ll never reach him. Everything is moving so slowly–each movement seems to take a hundred times the effort it should.

You spit out a mouthful of blood as the pain heightens, barely registering the two upper canines that go with it.

“What the fuck have you done?” You sob, uselessly pawing at his slashed left arm. It’s a precise cut straight across the artery–your hands are sticky and soaked with red the moment you touch him. Pressure, your brain screams at you. Put pressure on the wound.

“A real artist must suffer,” he mumbles weakly–then, even quieter, “I didn’t want to be alone anymore.”

“You’re dying.” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own anymore. It’s higher, breathier. 

“You drank it, d-didn’t you?” He asks, ignoring your statement. His distant eyes are trained on the sharp fangs that have pushed your canines out. “Fuck. Fuck! You were n-never supposed to…”

“Shut up, shut up,” you plead. Every shaky breath seems to cost him years. “How do I fix this? How do I fix you?”

“Thirsty,” he mumbles. There’s water on the sideboard, your brain reminds you. You don’t even remember bringing the glass with you, much less setting it down. Everything is so fuzzy. Your arm doesn’t move nearly as fast as it should when you reach for the glass, and Dieter’s hand weakly comes up to stop you.

“Not water,” he croaks. “Need… need…”

He can’t seem to form the words required to tell you what he needs. He doesn’t have to, though. You know.

“You’re not dying on me, Bravo.” You take the knife from his slack right hand before he can stop you and grit your sore teeth together as you slash it across your palm.

“N-no, don’t…” But he doesn’t resist as you hold your bleeding palm to his mouth. His empty eyes flash back to life with the first taste, and then he takes your hand in his own and drinks greedily. You watch with nothing short of disbelief as the cut on his arm seals itself right before your eyes.

“You were supposed to stay away from this,” he murmurs as his tongue sweeps across your palm. “Why the fuck are you here, baby?”

You don’t even remember anymore. Everything is hazy, everything hurts. It’s a chore just to keep your eyes open.

“Damn it,” he growls–pushing your hand away from his blood-smeared mouth seems to take all his willpower. “I never wanted this for you.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur as you slump down against his sheets. They’re so soft and light, and you want to cocoon yourself in them for the rest of time. “It’s just a dream.”

“Why’d you have to come save me? Huh?” His voice sounds so far away that you’re not even sure he’s really speaking. 

“I love you.” It’s okay to say that, because he’ll never actually find out. It’s just a dream, after all; you’ll wake up in the morning confused but totally okay.

“You were never supposed to,” his voice echoes from some plain of existence far, far away. “Damn it honey, stay awake just a minute longer.”

You try, but your eyes are so heavy. He sighs heavily, as if he knows it’s useless.

“Promise you’ll still love me when you wake up,” he pleads through the tunnel that separates you.

Nodding saps the last of your strength, so you let your eyes flutter closed. “Okay.”

You feel his lips against yours and his coppery kiss nearly brings you back from the verge of sleep. In the end, though, your throbbing head wins. Sleep takes hold quickly despite your feeble resistance. 

How strange it is to fall asleep in a dream.

➔ beta: @schnarfer and @futuraa-free thank you my lovelies <3

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[guitarstringed-scars]

cantaloupe island

masterlist

chapter 4- tea for two

atsumu leans against the front entrance to the diner. it’s dark out, and the neon lights illuminate against his face. the blue glow casts a light over his blonde hair. he checks the time on his phone, 7:59. he can see through the window of the diner that it’s packed full. with one minute to spare, you show up. as you step closer to him the blue light envelopes you along with him. ”hey.” you say as he pushes away from the wall.

“hi. so, i assume you dragged me here for jazz?” he asks. you laugh.

“you assumed right. i’m surprised you even showed up if you knew, since you hate jazz so much.”

he doesn’t answer, but blushes slightly. the light masks it though. atsumu pulls open the door, stepping aside as you walk in front of him.

“i’ve got us a table saved. my friend works here.” you say, pushing through the crowd. as you walk, you grab hold of atsumus arm, dragging him to a small table right in front of a small makeshift stage. a small jazz group is onstage. atsumu recognizes akaashi, he stands in the back, tuning a double bass. he looks up from his instrument as you wave at him, smiling.

the two of you sit down at your seats, they are pushed closer together than a usual restaurant set up, making sure that all seats can see the group. everyone shoved into the restaurant seems to know each other, and atsumu can’t help but feel a bit left out. the feeling doesn’t last for long, because you are quickly wrapping up the conversation with whoever you were talking to and turning to him.

“i’ve made it my goal to convince you to like jazz.” you say, staring intensely into his eyes. he feels like he’s being looked through.

“jeez, are you obsessed with me or something?” the joke delivery comes out a bit awkward. you don’t laugh, but he appreciates the slight smile that cracks through your serious appearance.

“i’m obsessed with making you appreciate the greatest form of music. you just need to agree to be open to it.” ”it sounds like i’m agreeing to sell the rights to my life.”

you don’t react, you simply look at him more pointedly.

“alright, i’ll trust you.”

at his words you smile wide, laugh, and turn to the stage. as the music starts, you whisper quietly to atsumu. ”this is one of akaashis other groups, they don’t play together often, but when they do it’s basically angelic.” as you watch the band play, atsumu watches you.

he appreciates the way you barely blink, eyes flittering around to each different musician in the group. the smile on your face and the light in your eyes. the way you love jazz makes him want to love it even more, but then he hears the music. he could appreciate the music at onigiri miya, when you were on piano.

“you are a lot better than this piano player.” he whispers in your ear.

you laugh quietly and swat his leg under the table.

“so rude.” you whisper back. ”you’re the one laughing. you know it’s true.”

you roll your eyes at him, and turn your focus back to the music.

as the band finishes up, you stand and cheer, clapping your hands together quickly. atsumu follows suit, clapping along with you, your hips bumping into each other.

as you leave the diner, you turn to him. ”so….? have you changed your mind?”

he has been convinced. the music was good. it was great the first time you played it too. jazz is beautiful, and so are you. is it really that wrong if he continues to pretend to hate it to spend more time with you? no. just a few more times spent together, and then he can admit he likes it.

“nah, still not my favorite.” he says, not looking directly at you.

you groan.

“ugh. fine. come by my apartment tomorrow, you can sit in on some of my lessons.” you say, typing the address into your messages.

“i’m totally determined to change your mind. see ya tomorrow miya.” you say with a smile, as you part ways.

a/n: hi friends, i'm back!!! sorry school been kicking my BUTT!!! but i'm back!

taglist: @hyenagoated @yuminako @giocriedpower @lilchubbyyy @sagejin

@oshygoshy @sereniteav @jojo23allegra @atsumuenthusiast @mikauraurr

@garfieldissocool @savemebrazilhinata @osakis-gf @acowboykisser @zumicho

@nbcvs @mylahrins @19calicos @wyrcan @chloiyoomi

@causenessus @diorzs @loverlunaire @s1ckntw1st3d @reignsaway

@nobodybutnnoorr @girlkissersco

[hells-greatest-overlord]

I read that she opened requests and it can be requested, then it may be one where those at the hazbin hotel discover that Alastor has a wife (Fem, Male, Gn) and she is someone who is very pure, innocent and almost angelic but she was also a murderer along with her husband and it surprises her more that she was also a sovereign, her power lay in her voice; She can sing and make the rest obey her, even bind them to her, but she has only a few sinners attached to her 🦑

of course! I’ll try my best, thank you for the request)

“Pretty but deadly”

You opened your eyes and looked around to a place that didn’t seem familiar, a pain in you head made it hard to think as you got up from a bed that was not comfortable what so ever. You looked out the window and were confused, this looked nothing like earth. You turned around and looked at yourself in a near by cracked mirror trying to remember anything that could help you figure out where you were.

You fixed your dress to make yourself more presentable as you took a deep breath and started to walk down the street.

A big, bright neon sign caught your eye and you started to head towards there hoping you can find some answers

you walked into what seemed to be a hotel and looked at the walls as you walked into the main lobby.

“hello?” You ask as you then were approached by a tall woman dressed in a red suit “Hi there! Welcome to the Hazbin hotel my name is Charlie” she said with excitement In her voice

“I’m y/n” you said with a softer voice. She started to tell you about the hotel with another presence entered the room

“hey Charlie there i-“ Alastor said before he saw you freezing for a moment as your eyes locked. “My darling? Is that you?” He asked still in shock as you nod and smile as you made your way over to him hugging him.

he hugged back for a moment as he looked at you “my dear but what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in heaven?” He asked as she shook her head no “I did a bad thing” she said quietly

Alastor smiled his big smiled as he was proud of his darling “Well then I guess you’ll be stuck with me” he said “let me introduce you to everyone while we’re here”

Alastor walked you over to where everyone was as everyone started to stare at you, you slightly hid behind alastor. “Now, everyone I would like you to meet my wife, y/n” he said as he looked at you

angel chocked up a little looking at you “That’s your wife? She ain’t look like she hurt anybody” he said

“Well everyone has there secrets now don’t they” alastor said as he then stepped to the side a little putting an arm around your waist

“Now dear I have to go take care of something real quick but don’t worry these people will take care of you for the time being” alastor said as he walked off leaving you there

you looked at everyone gently putting your head down as you looked at the floor figiting with your hands a little

“Hey it’s ok you don’t need to be scared we’re not gonna hurt you” Charlie said as she led you to the table pulling out a card game “wanna play” she asked as you nodded you and some of the others started to play

Time passes and Alastor eventually returns to seeing the table with cards and you winning against everyone a grin comes to his face.

“Well I see someone is enjoying themselves” he said as he took a seat by you “Now my dear, may I ask how you got here?” He asked, you looking down at the cards mumbling to yourself

“What was that deary? I didn’t hear you” he said as you looked over at him “I-um.. I killed a few people..-“

his eyes widen as he smiled his big smile and a little shocked as well as everyone else looked at you shocked “you did what?” He asked again just to clarify “I killed a few people” you repeated again

“well isn’t that interesting” he said with a smile “And my dear, who did you kill per chance?” He asked. “It was only supposed to be the person who killed you.. but then the feeling felt good so then it was the new radio person they hired, our neighbor who said very mean things about us and then one of the teachers at the school” you said

“well now I see” he said with a smile “no need to worry darling I’ll be here with you if you need anything” alastor said as he held out a hand which you carefully took and got up “let me show you to your room”

Alastor led you to the now shared room as he closed the door softly behind the two of you. He took a small deep breath as he walked and gave you a hug gently wrapping his arms around you and holding you close to him “I missed you my dear” he said with a soft voice

“I missed you too,” you said as you hugged him back. The two of you just stood there in silence as you started to hum softly one of the songs that played on your wedding night. Alastor grinned as he slowly moved his hand to yours and the other to your side as you gently swayed together.

The time felt slow and a small moment of peace between two lovers became one again, Alastor was about to mention something when there was a knock at the door. Alastor let out an annoyed sigh as he held you “What is it?’

“There is a visitor for y/n’’ charlie said through the door as you looked at Alastor giving him a confusing look as the two of you then walked out into the hall where you saw your ex. You looked at them and wanted to puke- you HATED them and seeing them here just made you want to leave.

“Hey babe, im so glad your here” they said in a cocky tone “Im not anything to you other than your ex, get that through your dumb head” you said snapping back quickly “Yes you are, i heard you singing and it led me to you. That has to mean something” he said as you rolled you eyes getting annoyed “ It means nothing. I was humming a song between me and my Husband” you said making sure to emphasise on the last part

“Wow wow my bad, but remember when he leaves youll know where to find me” he said giving you a wink as he left the building. You rolled your eyes a sigh leaving your mouth as you look at alastor who looked ready to kill him. “Im sorry about him i-”

“There is nothing to be sorry about my dear it wasn’t your fault, lets just forget about it ok?” he said and you nodded agreeing

Later that night the two of you caught up on well everything! The death, the real world, new things going on, whatever needed to be brought up the two of you talked about as you both were now together forever

( I apologize if this isn’t what you wanted I did my best )

[tisamustdie]

Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys lyrics

Lyrics masterlist

▄︻デ══━一

"Louder than God's revolver and twice as shiny" Look Alive, Sunshine

▄︻デ══━一

"The little children raise their open, filthy palms/ Like tiny daggers up to Heaven/ And all the juvie halls and all the Ritalin rats/ Ask angels made from neon and fucking garbage/ Scream out "What will save us?" Na Na Na

"Everybody wants to change the world/ But no one, no one wants to die" Na Na Na

▄︻デ══━一

▄︻デ══━一

"I'd rather go to Hell/ Than be in Purgatory/ Cut my hair, gag and bore me/ Pull this pin, let this world explode" Na Na Na

▄︻デ══━一

"Me and your runaway scars/ Got a photographed dream on a getaway mile" Bulletproof Heart

▄︻デ══━一

"And though I know how much you have this/ Are you gonna be the one to save us/ From the black and hopeless feeling?/ Will you mean it when the end comes reeling?" Bulletproof Heart

"Hold your heart into this darkness/ Will it ever be the light to shine you out?/ Or fail and leave you stranded?/ I ain't gonna be the one left standing/ You ain't gonna be the one left standing/ We ain't gonna be the ones left standing" Bulletproof Heart

▄︻デ══━一

▄︻デ══━一

"You've got to make a choice if the music drowns you out/ And raise your voice, every single time/ They try and shut your mouth" SING

▄︻デ══━一

"Nothing but a dead scene, product of a white dream/ I am not a singer that you wanted, but a dancer/ I refuse to answer, talk about the past, sir/ Wrote it for the ones who want to get away" SING

▄︻デ══━一

"They sell presentable, young and so ingestible/ Sterile and collectable and I can't stand it/ This is a letter, my word is a Beretta/ The sound of my vendetta against the ones that planned it" Planetary (GO!)

▄︻デ══━一

"And if we can't find where we belong/ We'll have to make it on our own/ Face all the pain and take it on/ Because the only hope for me is you alone" The Only Hope for Me Is You

▄︻デ══━一

"How it should be many years after the disasters that we've seen?/ What have we learned other than people burn in purifying flame?/ I say it's okay, I know you can tell/ And though you can see me smile/ I still think of the guns they sell" The Only Hope for Me Is You

▄︻デ══━一

"Ain't a DJ gonna save my soul/ Sold it long ago for rock 'n' roll" Party Poison

▄︻デ══━一

"This ain't a room full of suicides/ We're believers, I believe tonight" Save Yourself, I'll Hold Them Back

▄︻デ══━一

"We can live forever if you've got the time" Save Yourself, I'll Hold Them Back

▄︻デ══━一

"It ain't about all the friends you made/ But the graffiti they write on your grave/ For all of us who've seen the light/ Salute the dead and lead the fight/ Who gives a damn if we lose the war?/ Let the walls fall down, let the engines roar" Save Yourself, I'll Hold Them Back

▄︻デ══━一

"You're the broken glass in the morning light/ Be a burning star if it takes all night" Save Yourself, I'll Hold Them Back

▄︻デ══━一

"Blow a kiss at the methane skies/ See the rust through your playground eyes/ We're all in love tonight/ Leave a dream where the fallout lies/ Watch it grow where the tear stain dries/ To keep you safe tonight" S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W

▄︻デ══━一

"Turn my headphones up real loud/ I don't think I need them now/ 'Cause you stop the noise and- " Summertime

▄︻デ══━一

"Brother, protect me now/ With blood they wash in the money!" DESTROYA

▄︻デ══━一

"They laugh, we don't think it's funny/ If all you are/ Is just what you own/ What have you become/ When they take from you almost everything?" DESTROYA

▄︻デ══━一

"So show me what you got, you children of a gun/ Don't hide and we don't run!/ Against the sun, we're the enemy!" DESTROYA

▄︻デ══━一

"We don't care about the message or the rules they make/ I'll meet you when the sun goes black" The Kids From Yesterday

▄︻デ══━一

"And you only live forever in the lights you make" The Kids From Yesterday

▄︻デ══━一

"All the cameras watch the accidents and stars you hate/ They only care if you can bleed/ Does the television make you feel the pills you ate/ Or every person that you need to be?" The Kids From Yesterday

▄︻デ══━一

"Hair back, collar up, jet black, so cool!/ Sing it like the kids are mean to you!" Vampire Money

▄︻デ══━一

"The kids don't care if you're alright, honey/ Pills don't help, but it sure is funny/ Gimme, gimme some of that vampire money, come on!" Vampire Money

▄︻デ══━一

"Dedication, to the places that you never need to hide/ Occupations, the opportunity to see yourself in lights" We Don't Need Another Song About California

▄︻デ══━一

"Now I'm gonna show you how much I love you/ Oh, my magazine is full of ugly things" Zero Percent

▄︻デ══━一

"They wanna grip the cross, make cavities/ Adjust because it's purely a crime/ So let's break the cops, that casually/ And break the walls of cryogenic smile" F.T.W.W.W.

▄︻デ══━一

"We all got to die/ But tonight, wed sell our skin to get you right/ We all gotta try/ I'll be ready with leather arms, leather slide" F.T.W.W.W.

▄︻デ══━一

"Medication, and the way your eyes look into me/ Lubrication, can you turn off all the lights so I can't see?" Mastas of Ravenkroft

▄︻デ══━一

"Better grab your soul from the fingers of death" Black Dragon Fighting Society

▄︻デ══━一

[scoobydoodean]

dean really takes what cas says to heart in 6.07 about dean's problems not coming first because sam has to call cas for him the next time (6.10) and dean is like. repeatedly defending him after that point.

I don't know if defending him is how I'd describe it (though that is absolutely how I'd describe 6.20 where Dean repeatedly insists that Cas is owed their trust and gratitude), but he definitely gets the warning of "you're pushing it" underlying Cas's sarcasm in 6.07 and responds to the signals Cas is putting out. 6.07 is probably where Dean is most "demanding", but it's really the culmination of Dean being very scared around Sam (to the point of day drinking just to cope with being in the same room as him), and being assaulted by a rapist, then one episode later, finally getting the answers he's been begging for and the help he's been begging for from his family for weeks. After an argument where Dean's distress is very evident, Cas promises to have Dean's back in 6.06, and Cas makes good on his promise in 6.07, coming to Dean's aid. Finally having context for Sam's behavior, coupled with Cas finally taking his concerns seriously and arriving as a powerful and comforting source of backup makes Dean finally feel like he can get a handle on his life again after weeks of feeling scared and alone and used. He's able to confidently respond to and confront soulless Sam's deceitful behavior with Cas's aid, and begin creating boundaries. He jumps to assess the new information he has and adapt to and find a solution to the Sam situation as soon as possible. I think it's totally fine for Dean to ask for Cas's help (Cas asks for his help in demanding tones in 6.03 and Dean agrees—it isn't as if Dean isn't also willing to do things for Cas) but I think you're right that he adapts to Cas's mood when Cas implies through sarcasm that Dean is pushing it and could stand to remember that Cas has his own problems. When the king of hell forces them to start working for him, Dean doesn't ask Cas for help, and Sam doesn't either until 6.10. And when Sam does ask Cas for help, it's clear that Dean wasn't exactly on board. Sam goes out on his own to pray to Cas, and tricks him into showing up by mentioning an angelic weapon, then makes demands and even threats. The threats don't actually work on Cas, but Sam's behavior concerns Cas to the point that he agrees to help. And what does Sam do? Lie to Dean about his and Cas's conversation lmao—because Dean clearly said "I'm not calling him. He's made it clear that he's busy" while Sam confidently stated he could get Cas to show.

DEAN: You actually showed. Wow, Sam, I owe you a chicken dinner. What happened? SAM: No big. This is what friends do for each other. [Cue Cas head tilt + death glare]

Dean further establishes that he doesn't want to burden Cas and that Cas's problems aren't unimportant to him by thanking him very sincerely for his help and offering to help him with anything he needs, and when Cas expresses regret that he can't be with them more often, Dean tells him, "Look, Cas, we know you got a steaming pile on your plate. There’s no need for apologies. We’re your friends." I'm sure some fans feel this candid commentary comes late, but Dean was drowning and was not in a mental state to think about much besides how fucking creepy and weird and scary his brother was being prior to 6.07. He's found some stability and now feels prepared to extend aid (though notably—he already has in 6.03 and was frustrated when Cas wouldn't really communicate his problems).

Dean might have asked Cas to show up in 6.12 to check on Sam's condition while he's in a coma (though we don't know for sure—only that he rips into Dean for putting Sam's soul back in—blinking neon sign in hindsight screaming that Cas feels guilty). Cas shows up again later when Sam prays to him just to (try to) give Sam a hug lol.

Cas isn't seen again until 6.15, when it's again—him (and Balthazar) demanding Sam and Dean's help—not the other way around. He shows up (from the Winchesters perspective) out of the blue in 6.17. In 6.18, Dean prays to Cas for help with time travel in his own special way, and then is immediately yelled at by Rachel even though he hasn't asked Cas for anything in weeks, has provided an open invitation for Cas to ask for his aid, and has had Cas call in favors from him without even asking first (6.17). He's confused by Rachel's accusations, but he doesn't discount the underlying message that Cas is annoyed with him, regardless of whether or not that accusation is actually fair or her understanding of Cas's true feelings is accurate. Dean shows he's again adapting to what he believes is Cas feeling overburdened in 6.19, where it seems that he's told Sam and Bobby not to bother Cas, because after Bobby insists they've exhausted their own resources, he looks at Dean pointedly and says it's time to involve Cas (I talk about this here). Obviously there's also a joke here about Dean and Cas's "profound bond" making him the obvious candidate to pray, but Dean is quite reluctant. He protests being the one to call Cas because he doesn't want to bother him. He insists that Cas is busy, and that Cas does not live in his ass—i.e., Dean saying this establishes that he doesn't believe it's Cas's job to be at his beck and call (after Rachel unfairly implied he thought otherwise). And then Cas shows up before Dean can even pray.

[noxsn]

Hello!

A dare for you if you want (I'm curious)

Name the more shipkids possible (and the ship they're from) without cheating!

Have a nice day ✨

Anon this is a dream come FUCKING true THANK YOU SO MUCH I CAN MAKE A LIST NOW AAAH. Ive DEFINITELY forgotten a good few people tho

I can describe literally everyone here and I WILL LOVE TO answer questions about them if asked!!!!!!

BUT ANYWAY HERE ARE ABOUT 72 SHIPKIDS!!

@sawdust-flavored-poptarts

Sweetheart (lust/swap)

Cherri (dream/killer)

Other

Paperjam/PJ (error/ink) - 7goodangel

Gradient (error/ink) - askcomboclub

Pallet roller (dream/ink) - @angeutblogo

Goth (reaper/geno) - nekophy

Raven (reaper/geno) - @echoiarts

Shino (reaper/geno) - blue-kohina

Smudge (ink/nightmare) - pixiewritesstuff on tiktok (https://www.tiktok.com/@sanstheskelussy?_t=8o4e192Z1f6&_r=1)

Lux (dream/cross) - Jakei95

Starcross (dream/cross) - lunnar-chan

Crescent (killer/nightmare) - lunnar-chan

Kenza (lust/dust) - nimaruu

Rocket (swap/outer) - jaylaxyart99

Blue screen (ink/error) - 7goodangel

Sprinkle (swap/dust) - 6agentgg9

By Andrew (i think they deleted their blog?)

Debug (error/nightmare)

Dedge (fell/dust)

Rubi (fresh/sci)

Økske (horror/dust)

Raspberry (swap/geno)

Plum (red/classic)

Lurro (lust/horror)

Cabriole (lust/dance)

Eros (lust/fell)

Molpe (epic/dust)

Rem (dream/error)

Somnia (fresh/nightmare)

Lucid (dream/nightmare FUSION NOT CHILD)

Ricin (death/sci)

Nei (horror/swap)

Design?, Aiden, Happy?, and someone else (a DID system made by ink/error)

By @/pepper-mint

Blueprint (swap/ink)

Neon(fresh/sci)

Charm (lust/nightmare)

Orfeo (lust/ink)

Belladonna/Bella (lust/dust)

Al (error/geno)

Morgue (fell/sci)

Ritter (altertale sans/storyshift sans)

Raider (error/nightmare)

Roulette (mafia/??)

Vermilion (lavender/fetal error)

Cloud berry (swap/dream)

Sträke (epic/cross)

Strel (bird/flower fell)

Slash (fell/dust)

Silver(reaper/geno)

Hela (reaper/dream)

Ivy berry (swap/nightmare)

Glasses (horror/fresh)

Noir (killer/nightmare)

Prisma (killer/color)

By cricketkillerz on tiktok!! (https://www.tiktok.com/@cricketkillerz?_t=8o4dy6HrUIb&_r=1) THEY HAVE LIKE A 100 COOL SHIPKIDS GO CHECK THEM OUT!!!!

Delusion (error/nightmare)

White Jasmine/WJ (lust/farm)

Aristotle (swap/cross)

Daring (swap/cross)

Porcelain (lust/geno)

Angel dust (lust/mafia)

Cupid (lust/dream)

XOXO (lust/cross)

Toxic (cross/sci)

Chamomile (flower fell/cinno)

Citrus (nightmare/farm I LOVE HER)

Hound (horror/cross)

Last judgment/LJ (ink/geno/cross thing)

Rosita (fell/lust)

Drip/driper? (killer/outer)

Huntress (shattered/dust)

Anarchy (fell/dream)

Falcon? (nightmare/bird)

Unknown

Nova (lust/nightmare) (i might have made her up myself ngl-)

I might have mixed one of two of Andrew and Mints characters cus they interacted a lot.

Also I KNOW some of the creators have weird ass content but ISTG i found most of these as a bb, forgot about the weird shit, and just made my own tweaked versions pf the characters that are now forever stuck in my brain. I DON'T SUPPORT THE WEIRD STUFF!!!

[cripplemagics]

jay: mmmmmmmm trout.

me: sounds about right for a wednesday night.

[b33-writesstuff]

Coffee and Changing Leaves (Pt.1??)

Summary:

After your friends leave you at a bar, you stumble into a coffee shop to meet a most handsome barista.

WARNINGS: Vomit mentions, generally being drunk, otc medication mentions

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Tags: Fluff, Coffee shop AU, Reid is a student, use of Y/N

WC: 1.4k

A/N: I've never really written anything like this. Hope yall enjoy. Any feedback is appreciated! There may be a part 2 if this does well or if I feel like it

Your head pounded and your vision blurred. You staggered out onto the street, promptly puking on the sidewalk. Your friends had left you alone in some dinky bar after a so-called “girl’s night out”. It was 2, maybe 3 a.m.; either way, it was dark, with only the neon signs and streetlamps to light your way. You staggered through the streets, trying to find your apartment. You had walked here, living only 15 minutes away. But everything looked foreign now. You could have sworn that the old brick building was the coffee house you would always visit, but the face inside didn’t look like the one of your usual barista and there was no one inside. Like a moth to a flame though, you stumbled inside. 

The bell rang out with a small chime. It felt like the call of an angel. The bright lights hurt your eyes but the warmth was comforting. The smell of coffee grounds and floor cleaner wafted through the air. Soft music played through the speakers overhead. You just stood near the door, leaning against a table, trying to adjust. The barista came out from the back, already untying the apron from his waist. He had shaggy brown hair and slender hands. He wore glasses with a round frame and when he saw you he froze.

His voice was timid “Exc- excuse me but we’re closed.” You just looked up at him, at least best you could before covering your eyes again. Your voice was slightly raspy from all the off-tune and far too loud singing you had been doing,

“Look, I figured, just- if you could tell me what street I’m on, I’d really appreciate it.” He looked at you and pulled his apron over his head before walking towards you. Placing a soft hand on your shoulder he asked you “Are you ok?” “Yeah, just really, really drunk. And lost. Which is great.”

“Maybe I could walk you home, if that's alright. It’s like 3 a.m. right now. I’m Spencer by the way. Reid. Spencer Reid. What’s your name?” “Y/n” you answered curtly.

“Well y/n, let’s get you home, if it’s all good with you.” You don’t know why but you trusted him, and so you nodded and he walked close to you, letting you lean against him as he asked you a myriad of questions. “Where do you live? Why are you out alone? Why did your friends leave you behind?” Honestly, you didn’t have the guts to tell him they left you for a bunch of guys. You didn’t have the guts to tell him you were happy they left you alone at the bar. Spencer smelled like coffee and vanilla. You were sure you smelled like cheap margaritas and puke, but he didn’t seem to mind. As you walked the two blocks to your apartment he rambled about a thousand different things you didn’t quite understand. You found he was a student at the FBI academy and was learning to be a profiler. Then he explained what a  profiler was. He was far smarter than you were, and you were in awe, even in your drunken state. 

Finally,  you got to your apartment building. You insisted you were fine to walk in yourself, but as he saw your poor attempt at walking up the stairs, he grabbed your waist and helped you walk to your apartment door. His touch made your stomach flutter. You unlocked the door with a pronounced click and invited him in. He chuckled, saying that this was as far as his journey went, but that he’d love to see you around the coffeehouse. You apologized about a thousand times but he just placed a hand on your arm and told you it was fine and that you were drunk. You closed the door and slumped down, thinking that some coffee might just help with your upcoming hangover, or at least that seeing him would.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning you woke up on your couch, a half-finished bowl of cereal on the coffee table and the TV on Netflix’s ‘Are You Still Watching?’ screen. You sat up groggily. You had a killer headache and your feet hurt. You stretched as you grappled with what you could remember of last night’s events and cringed in embarrassment at the thought of you inviting a guy you just met into your apartment. You stood and dragged yourself to your bathroom, turning on the shower and letting the room steam up. You brushed your teeth and scrubbed the smell of last night’s drinking off of you. After wrapping yourself in your towel, you walked to your room. The curtains were closed and it was dark but you found your way to your nightstand lamp and then promptly laid down on your bed. You sank into the plush mattress and soft comforter. You sighed, happy you didn’t have work today before once again remembering Spencer. You remember he was tall and had longish, messy brown hair. You remembered that he was smart and kind but you mostly remembered his hands. They were strangely soft and yet strong. He had held you with an unusual kindness. He seemed shy but you also got the impression he knew exactly what to do in most any situation and would step up if needed. And as much as you hated to admit it, you had a crush on a man you barely talked to. You downed some aspirin you had on your nightstand and stood to get dressed. Picking out a cute outfit, perfect for the chilly fal weather, you collected your things and walked out of your apartment. You walked the two blocks and found yourself in front of the coffee shop you were at the night before. As you peeked inside, you saw a young blond woman, not the man you had met just 12 hours ago. You sighed in disappointment and with nowhere to go you found yourself walking aimlessly around your neighborhood. It was a crisp October day. The leaves were beginning to turn shades of gold and ruby. This part of the neighborhood was usually quiet, with only a few cars passing by every few minutes. You felt your phone buzz and saw a text from your boss asking about the recent project you had been working on. You never finished texting them back though before running headfirst into the body of none other than Spencer Reid. You looked up at him. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a white hoodie. He looked… cute. Your internal fawning was interrupted by the sound of his voice. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Are you ok?” “Uh yeah, I’m fine,” you replied as you looked up to meet his eyes. “Hey, it’s you! How are you feeling?” He asked excitedly as he offered a hand to help you up.

You chuckled “Much better thanks to you. Thank you for walking me home by the way. I was lost as a bat with no ears.” “A bat with no ears! That’s a good one!” he said but then his smile faded a bit, “Hey I gotta get going to work, but I’ll see you around. Maybe you can come order a coffee one day.”

“It’s a date!” Spencer walked past you but you were just frozen staring at the ground. “It’s a date!”? Really? That's the word choice you used? You absolute idiot! Now he’s probably gonna think you’re some sort of- You took a deep breath and shook away the negative thoughts. You figured it’d be weird if you showed up just after you had seen him, but at least you know he gets there in the afternoon on Sundays. You couldn’t get the thought of him out of your head. You watched your breath turn into a white puff and made the walk back to your apartment. It was cozy, which you guessed was another way to say small, but it served you well. It was one bedroom, one bath, a small kitchen and of course, your lovely conjoined dining room and living room. You sat down on your couch and opened up your laptop. The rest of the afternoon was spent replying to emails and working on the graphic design piece for your job. You worked for a large design firm and the was your first big project. You were excited, mostly for the pay, but were mainly nervous about hitting all the necessary deadlines. Only once your head started hurting from the light of the computer did you get up to make dinner. The smell of leftover spaghetti filled your home and you sat down, feeling incredibly, inexplicably lonely.

[teaberrii]

Chapter 4: Déjà vu

You've been Cupid for as long as you can remember. You've brought countless soulmates together, yet you've never found love.

When you're assigned to bring two childhood friends back together, it should be simple until you unexpectedly catch feelings for the mysterious and cold Ph.D. student, Dan Heng, the man with a soulmate… the man with answers to your past.

Dan Heng/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

You and Dan Heng arrive at Angel's Tavern, the bar March told you about. The doors slide open without any noise, and you step onto the shiny, black marble floor. The walls are made of the same material; the only difference is the thin, green neon lights that run through the walls like veins. Lights floating in diamond-shaped fixtures hang from the ceiling.

Dan Heng walks up to a counter where a woman looks up from whatever she was doing and smiles. “Dan Heng? It’s been a while.” Then, she looks at you. “Oh? Who’s this? Friend of yours?”

You and Dan Heng glance at each other, but instead of replying to her question, he says, “Table for two. At the bar.”

As she ushers you and Dan Heng inside, you quietly ask, “Are you a regular here?”

“...I used to be.”

Once you and Dan Heng are seated, he calls for a shot. Then, he turns to you. “It’s on me tonight.”

“Since when are you so generous?”

The bartender slides Dan Heng his shot. He effortlessly grabs it. “...It’s my thanks for accompanying me tonight.”

“...Is something wrong?” you ask cautiously. “You look tired.”

He downs the shot. “Everything’s fine.”

That can't be further from the truth, and he knows that you know. Dan Heng is thankful you let it slide and order a shot for yourself. He watches you down the shot and puts your empty glass on the counter. Then, he orders another for himself.

“...I heard you went to the hospital today,” you say. “Did you get some valuable information for your research?” You see his grip slightly tighten around his glass.

“...Tell me something.” His shot comes, but he doesn’t drink it. Instead, he’s looking at you. “Does that sparkle in your eyes have something to do with how you know about my research?”

Since when did he start connecting the dots?

“Why do you ask?” Then, you ask for another shot.

He takes his shot. “...Because I want to know more about you.”

Your eyes widen slightly. Is he drunk already? Dan Heng asks for another, and you sigh softly. "Look, even if I told you, you wouldn't get it."

“Try me.”

You scoff just as his shot comes, and he downs it again. Fine. If he's so insistent.

After taking your shot, you say, "Yes, it does."

Dan Heng smiles slightly, and you look away when your cheeks grow warm. Maybe it's the cozy atmosphere, or you're feeling the effects of the shot. Whatever it is, that lazy grin on his face sends an unexpected heat throughout your body.

You and Dan Heng call for another drink… at the same time. Then, his eyes meet yours, and you awkwardly look away.

“...How does it work?” he asks with a slight drawl.

You give him a deadpan look. Your drink comes first, and you take it. "What? Are we playing twenty questions now? How's that fair when you haven't answered any of my questions?"

He spins his chair toward you just as a glass slides straight into his hand. “I did get valuable information for my research today,” he says calmly. Then, he takes the shot and puts the glass down. “...But… I wish I didn’t go.”

He calls for another glass.

“You’re contradicting yourself,” you say.

Dan Heng slightly leans forward. “...It’s my turn, Cupid.”

Is it just you, or does Dan Heng get a little bold when he's supposedly drunk? Is he drunk? You can't tell.

Before he can take his shot, you stop him by saying, "I think you had enough for today."

“...Just one more,” he drawls.

You grab his hand to stop him, and that’s when it happens.

“...It’s not going to kill you.”

You looked at the pear-shaped bottle that supposedly contained the liquor you were curious about. "That's what they all say. Next thing I know, I'm unconscious, and you're dragging my body into the middle of the lake."

Is that a smile you saw?

“If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t drug and drag you into the middle of the lake. That’d be too much work.” Then, the man popped open the lid. “...Let me prove to you that it’s harmless.”

“...What’s wrong?”

Dan Heng’s calm voice pulls you back to the present.

What in the world was that? A vision? A flashback? But of what? You saw yourself and a… creature that oddly resembled Dan Heng in the strangest ways. The man had horns and long black hair with teal-tinted tips. His clothing also looked very traditional; flowy sleeves and a green sash around his waist that fans out like a cape behind him.

“...You… didn’t see it?” you ask.

“See what?”

When you notice your hand is still on his, you quickly pull it back. “Nothing. I… I think I’ll stop drinking.”

Dan Heng looks at the shot in his hand. “...Can I take this?”

“You’re asking me?”

“You’re the one who stopped me.”

“I never thought you’d be an obedient drunk.”

He smiles, downs his drink, and slightly leans toward you. “...I’m far from drunk, Cupid.”

Your eyes widen when you hear him lower his voice. Why did he do that? And… why is your heart racing?

“I can call you that, right?”

Dan Heng leans upright. There it is. That lazy smile. And then there are his hooded eyes. Unable to hold his stare, you turn towards the counter.

“Sure,” you mutter. You glance at him. “You used up your question, by the way.”

“How is that fair?”

You sigh and spin your chair to face the counter. “Should I take that as another question?”

Dan Heng spins your chair back to face him and frowns. “You aren’t playing fair.”

You lift your hand, intending to put it on his cheek to check his body temperature. But you stop as you remember what had just happened.

“...You aren’t going to touch me?”

You quickly pull your hand back. “You could’ve worded that better!”

A small smirk tugs at his lips. Now you’re sure he’s drunk.

Then, he leans forward again. “Tell me… I want to know how you saw it.” Before you can say anything, he continues, “Don’t tell me I won’t understand. I will understand.”

You slowly put your hands on his shoulders as if afraid that touching him will trigger another… whatever that was. But when it doesn’t come, you gently push him away.

“...Let’s get you home, Dan Heng,” you say.

He stands upright, and you call for the bartender for the bill. But when he tells you everything has been charged to Dan Heng's account, you turn to him. Dan Heng smiles at you.

“I told you it’s on me," he drawls.

Well, this man thinks ahead.

Should you be amazed that Dan Heng can walk in a straight line despite being drunk? During the short time you were at the bar, he's already managed to surprise you in so many ways. What else is next?

You’re almost to the train station when he suddenly asks, “...Are you cold?”

“Um, no. Are you?”

He stops, which makes you stop. Then, he turns to you. “I am.”

…Is he expecting you to do something about that?

"We're almost to the station," you say. "...Just hang in there." When he pouts slightly, you almost smile. "Don't tell me you can't handle a little cold."

That’s when he suddenly reaches behind you and pulls you close to him. His arm is around your shoulders, and your mind goes blank when you realize he’s hugging you.

“What… What are you doing?” you ask.

“...Sobering up.”

“I thought you said you weren’t drunk,” you deadpan.

A small pause.

“...I’m sorry…” he says quietly, his voice cracking. “Can we just stay like this for a little longer?”

Something tells you this isn’t just about him trying to ‘sober up.’ Before you know it, one of your arms is around him. Soon, you’re gently stroking his hair.

“...It’s okay,” you say softly. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“...I have to save him,” you hear him whisper. “...I will.”

You aren’t sure what he’s talking about, but you still say as comfortingly as possible, “You will, Dan Heng. You will.”

When you close your eyes, you suddenly see it again.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

You put a cold towel on his forehead that felt like it was burning. The man closed his eyes, and you get up to make your sick guest some soup. You were about to leave when he asked, “...Why are you doing this?”

You looked over your shoulder; the man was staring at you. "What do you think? You're my friend, Young. Whether you're human or not… I care about you."

Dan Heng lets you go, and you instantly snap back to reality. There it was… that vision, dream, flashback, of the man who eerily resembles Dan Heng.

“...Are you okay?”

You look Dan Heng in the eyes. “...Fine.” Then, you look away. “I’m… fine.” You slip your hands inside your pocket. “The train should be almost here. Let’s go.”

You and Dan Heng are lucky enough to get seats on the ride home. It’s a Friday night, so the train is more crowded than usual. You see Dan Heng subtly dozing off from the corner of your eye. Then, you hear your phone buzz.

Pom: WHERE R U?

Before heading to the bar with Dan Heng, you’d told Pom you’ll be coming home late. Of course, you didn’t tell him you were going to drink with Dan Heng as you could already imagine him wiggling his eyebrows and everything.

“...Did I keep you?”

You turn to Dan Heng, who’s not looking at you but obviously noticed that you’re holding your phone as if about to reply to someone.

“It’s Pom,” you say. “I was talking to him before we went for drinks. He’s just wondering where I am.”

“You two seem very close.”

You turn to him. Is he sober? You think back to the moment of vulnerability he shared with you before you got to the station. Maybe it’ll be okay to share something about yourself.

"...Pom is the only one I have left," you say quietly.

Dan Heng turns to you, and his eyes are a little red.

“...What about your family? Friends?”

You face forward as you say, “I have none.” Then, quietly, “At least none that I can remember.”

The train enters a tunnel, and the people sitting across from you suddenly get up to move to the doors. As they do, you see your reflection in the window. But when you look at Dan Heng, your eyes widen.

There he is. The… creature. His face looks identical to Dan Heng's. Yet, there are horns on his head, and his outfit is the same one you saw. His gaze meets yours, and you open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“...Do you want to remember?”

You quickly turn to Dan Heng, who's looking at you. You slowly look back to his reflection in the mirror, but the creature is gone.

“...What do you mean?” you ask, turning to him.

“...Why dwell on the past when you can focus on the present? You’re making new friends. I’m… your friend.”

Then, before you can stop yourself, you say, "We might be friends, but finding out my past is why I'm here."

Dan Heng stays quiet, and you think he’s given up. But then he asks, “Are you using me?”

You look at him incredulously. “N-no! That’s not…” You sigh. “I think I like you better when you’re sober.”

The train comes to a stop. Then, once the doors open, you and Dan Heng get off. After leaving the station, you turn to him.

“No more questions for tonight, okay?”

Dan Heng nods. Then, as soon as you turn around, a large man talking with his friend accidentally bumps into you and spills his drink over his shirt.

“Ah, shit!” He glares at you. “Watch where you’re going.”

You frown. “You were the one who bumped into me.”

The man looks like he’s about to say something, but then you see Dan Heng step up beside you. He moves his arm as if to tell you to get behind him as he glares at the bigger man.

“Hey. Just let it go.”

At least the man’s friend speaks reason. Then, with a scoff, the men walk off.

“...You know,” you say, and Dan Heng looks at you. “You ain’t half bad, Dan Heng.” You chuckle. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t respond but continues walking. It doesn’t take long for you to catch up.

For the rest of the way, you and Dan Heng walk together in comfortable silence. You never thought he’d stick to his word. You send a quick text to Pom, who’s probably ready to command the entire police force to come looking for you.

In the elevator, you slowly glance at Dan Heng’s reflection. Will you see that creature again? Who is he? And why does he look so similar to Dan Heng? But most importantly, where are these… visions, flashbacks, or whatever they are coming from?

The elevator doors open, and Dan Heng glances at you.

“...Thanks for tonight.”

Then, he steps out and walks towards his suite just as the elevator doors close. You hear Gepard’s voice just before the elevator heads to your floor. As soon as you enter your apartment, Pom looks at you disapprovingly.

“Look who finally decided to show up. Did you and Dan Heng have fun?”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Pom.”

Pom almost jumps off the couch. “I want to drink, too! Wouldn’t hurt to have some fun while we’re here.” But then he smiles. “So, why did he ask you to drink with him?”

You slip off your coat and hang it in a nearby closet. “...Something happened at the hospital today.”

Pom’s smile vanishes. “He went to the hospital?”

“It was for his research,” you say, sitting on the couch. Pom sits on the opposite side of you. “...I don’t know what happened, but he was obviously really down.” When Pom stays silent, you look at him curiously. “What are you thinking about?”

“Oh, well… you know how I told you I talked to Stelle today?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t mean to, but… I overheard her talking to who I think… are her parents. They were talking about someone named Caelus.”

“...That’s Stelle’s twin brother.”

“She has a twin brother?”

You nod. "I don't know much about him though." Then, you tell Pom about March and how she told you he's studying abroad.

“...If that’s the case, I don’t think Stelle’s buying it.” Pom sighs. “Anyway… this was actually her last event for a while. She’s going on a hiatus.”

“For health issues? That’s usually the case for celebrities, isn’t it?”

Pom shrugs. “I don’t have an answer to that. Maybe it has something to do with Caelus… But, hey, maybe this means we'll get our job done quicker.” He scratches his head. "For once, I don't know if that's a good thing or not."

Now, it’s your turn to be silent.

“...Cupid?”

You look up at Pom, who’s looking at you curiously.

“I saw something strange today… when I was with Dan Heng.”

“Strange? Like what?”

So, you tell Pom about what you saw and the creature who looks like Dan Heng's doppelganger.

“...Young?”

“I’m pretty sure that was his name,” you say. “At least… that’s what I called him.”

Pom leans back. “Hm… I’ve never heard that name before. And you said he looks like…”

“...A dragon? A human dragon?”

“If he really exists, shouldn’t be he on the Astral Express?”

“I thought so, too. Maybe he’s not around anymore…”

“Or…” Pom leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “What if Young is Dan Heng?”

You raise a brow. “So… he’s like laying dormant inside of him?”

“Maybe. I have no idea, but Dan Heng is the only other person who can see the flash in your eyes. Just from that, he’s already not normal. I wouldn’t be too surprised if there’s like… another being sleeping inside of him.”

But the question still remains. What does Young have to do with you?

“...I know we’re supposed to be doing a job, but…”

“...You want to drag it out,” Pom finishes.

“Himeko says we’d find this job more exciting than the others. I think she knew about what we’d find here.”

Pom smiles. “Well, I’m down to stick around. It’s pretty fun as a human!”

And it looks like Himeko is finally fulfilling her promise.

◆◆◆

The loose sleeves of your white and red hanfu flowed behind you as you ran into a more secluded area in the forest. Twigs snapped beneath your wooden sandals.

“She went this way!”

Eventually, you reached a small, deserted wooden cabin that you'd discovered last week when you were on your own in the forest. When you opened the door, you weren't expecting to see a young boy around the same age as yourself. He was wearing a white hanfu, except he'd ripped one of the sleeves and used it as a bandage for his wounded hand.

He turned around with wide eyes. “Who are you?”

“...I could ask you the same thing. I've never seen you before.” You cautiously approached him. When you were close enough, you crouched. “How did you get hurt?”

Silence.

When you saw the blood was soaking through the sleeve, you extended your hand to him. “Can I see?”

“...I’m fine,” he muttered. “You should get out of here.”

You frowned. "You touched a Venom Brew, didn't you?"

Disguised and easily mistaken for normal mushrooms, one touch of a Venom Brew can quickly swell and make your hand itch like mad. As one kept scratching it, the skin would easily peel and bleed, making it look worse.

“How did you know?”

“Clearly you aren’t from around here.” You nodded toward his injured hand. “...I know how to make the pain stop.”

So, the boy reluctantly extends his hand. You quickly unwrapped the bloodied bandage and drew a small knife.

“You carry a knife with you?” he asked.

"...This is going to hurt," you said. Then, you make a slightly deeper cut into his hand. The boy flinched, and then you started squeezing the blood out of his hand. "You need to squeeze out the poison. You can't just let it sit in your skin like this."

Sure enough, the swelling slowly started to go down.

“Does it still itch?” you asked, not looking up.

“...No.”

That was when you ripped your sleeve and used it as a bandage for his wound.

“There,” you said. “All done.” When you looked up, your eyes widened, and you dropped his hand.

“...Please don’t be afraid,” the boy said.

“You…” You pointed to the horns that had mysteriously appeared. “Who—”

“Should we check the cabin?”

You turned around at the sound of the voices of the people who were chasing you. But before you made a sound, the boy put his uninjured hand over your mouth.

Then, the doors opened… and you smelled something burning…

Your eyes open, and you immediately sit up. It takes you less than a second to realize that the burning smell is not from your dream. You quickly get out of bed and rush to the kitchen to find Pom turning off the stove.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“I wanted to make breakfast!" Pom says, staring at the blackened… thing in the pan.

You sigh out of relief. “Geez, Pom.”

“Did I wake you?”

You help Pom clean up as you say, “...You woke me from a dream.”

“Was it one of your nightmares?”

“...No. This one was… much more pleasant.” Pom looks at you curiously as you say, “...I think it was Young.”

You eventually find the opportunity to introduce Pom to March over the next few days. As for Dan Heng, you haven't seen much of him. Gepard tells you Dan Heng's been coming home late, sometimes staying overnight at the university. Gepard has also asked you if you knew what was happening, but you truthfully told him you didn't know. But you also keep that drunken night a secret.

You thought about asking Dan Heng if he's mentally okay, but you've lost count of how many times you opened a conversation to text him but end up not doing it. He also hasn't texted you either. But as the festival is right around the corner, you use it as an excuse to ask him how he's doing.

Dan Heng: I still want to take you and Pom to the festival.

You flop on the bed and begin typing a reply.

Shouldn’t you rest? It’s not a big deal.

Just as you drop your phone on the bed, you hear it buzz.

Dan Heng: It’ll be resting for me.

Well, guess that's the end of that.

You get off the bed and slide your phone into your pocket. As you come out of your room, Pom happens to poke his head from around the corner.

“Hey, Cupid. Are you hungry? I think I finally got the hang of cooking!”

You smell something… smoky and you say, "Just be careful not to burn this place down." Then, you walk to the door and slip on a jacket.

“Where are you going?”

“...The Astral Express.”

Pom steps out of the kitchen, revealing his black and white apron with the phrase “Kiss the Chef” on the front.

“Are you going to talk to Himeko?”

Ever since that day, you haven’t had any strange visions or dreams of Young, and you deduce that it’s probably because you haven’t seen Dan Heng. Regardless, you want to know if there really is a link between Dan Heng and Young and you. And there’s no better person to ask than Himeko.

“...Do you think she’ll really give you answers?” Pom continues.

“Probably not,” you say. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t try.”

Pom nods. “Good luck.” Then, he looks over his shoulder. “When you get back, I’ll be sure to have something ready!”

And then you’re off.

There’s only one way back to the Astral Express, and it’s the through your phone. But you must leave the way you came in. Today is a weekend, so while the trains are still busy, the campus is relatively quiet. Soon, you’re standing in front of the elevator that you, Pom, and Lan came out of. Once the doors open, you step inside and activate the app on your phone.

Then, everything goes black.

When you open your eyes, you're once again surrounded by floating clouds. The carriage doors open, and you head toward Himeko's compartment.

You don't get a chance to knock as the door automatically opens. It's as if she's expecting you. You walk inside, and you see her at her desk.

“It must be important if you came to see me in the middle of a job,” Himeko says, looking up at you.

“Were you expecting me?”

“Did you find out something about your past?”

You frown. “Maybe? I thought you might know something. A… creature named Young.”

“What about him?”

“Who is he? And… what does he have to do with Dan Heng?”

“Who do you think he is?”

"Why are you the one asking the questions?" you challenge.

Himeko stands. “This is me keeping my promise to you.”

"...So, he is someone from my past," you mutter.

"...Young is no longer here."

Now, you’re even more confused.

You sigh. “You really want to make me work, don’t you? You can’t just tell me everything?”

“Trust me. You’ll end up with more questions than answers if I did.” Suddenly, she appears in front of you. “...The only thing I can tell you is to be prepared.”

“...For what?”

“The answers you’re looking for may not be the ones you want to hear.”

Chapter 5

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @seirenspinel @lxry-chxn @tanspostsblog @theprinceofkhaos @nqctre

[sunnylands-world]

The Devil And His Dancer

Pairing: Mafia Draco x stripper reader

Summary: you're working to pay off college. You never expected to meet him and be sucked into his world of danger…

Word count: 1'480

Warning: oral [fem receiving] love at first sight? Orgasm denial

Universe: Mafia

A/n: just showing you how Draco and the reader met

Mistakes are mine

Show support if you read

Your legs wrap the pole tight as you slide down. The purple hue in the room gives off the tension as you move in versus motions around the pole, an occasional tip stuck in your bra or in the waist of your panties. you're floating and not just because you're on a pole but because the music gets your heart racing and an urge to twitch comes over you. The sound is hypnotizing like church music.

Only you're not lifting to Christ but a sin since God doesn't support pole dancers but he also doesn't put cash in your wallet and you're not gonna quit college. you're good at what you do, you're a top Paid dancer. Everyone is practically entranced in your Aura, so much so they Don't notice the owner walking in. even the people working drinks are lost in you. It's enough to stop the boss himself after he sat asking for his usual and not receiving it.

He looks over to see you and you're like something out of a fantasy, a temptress meant to tug and pull at the crotches of the men around you and he has to admit he's definitely turned on after seeing you. you're gorgeous. you remembered him of medusa catching eyes and turning crowds to stone. He's forgotten about his drink and is more focused on getting you one.

"Hey, tell the dancer there I want her in the private room now." Draco ordered. the bartender nods, leaving his post to get you from the pole. draco thought you looked good even sliding down. he watches you for a bit seeing you glance his way. You swallow and nod heading to the back. you sat in the room, its only difference being its color is Blue and it doesn't ease the slight fear climbing up your back. you knew about the man who ran the club but you hadn't met him yet but you were going to now.

The door opened and in walked a tall man. his hair blonde and styled, skin pale and scattered with tattoos as far as you can see. the one's on his neck peek through the top of his dark suit. you had to adjust a bit. he wasn't anything like you were expecting, his energy meant power and something about him made you want to get on your knees and bow at his side or bend over for him and let him do as he pleased. dominant and power were a mixture you couldn't control yourself around.

he sat down, eyes that were colored looking you over like he was deciding what he wanted to do with you but you couldn't say which color they were because of the neon Blue space.

"Tell me your name princess," he said, no demanded and you wiggled meeting his stare.

"[name]" you whispered. You weren't sure where the shyness came from and you weren't sure you liked how quickly your confident attitude switched. He repeated it like he was trying a wine flavor trying to analyze its taste.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked and you nodded but he shook his head.

"When I speak I want a reply, am I clear?" His brow raised waiting for your response.

"yes" you answer and he trailed his eyes from your lips to yours. you sounded like a angel meant to bewitch those who heard it like a siren and he'd do things to you till your pretty voice is gone.

"Do you want a drink?" He announced, breaking the tension between you two.

"I left my money back in my-"

"I'm not letting you pay for it. What kind of man would I be if I offered you a drink and made you pay?" he chuckled and your eyes fluttered seeing his smile as he laughed.

"I'm just confused as to why you wanted-"

"you? I want you because I haven't felt so powerless in the presence of a woman. you've made me weak and I only had to look at you to feel that way. I want you because you burn men with a glance." he said confidentiality leaning back into the couch. you blinked a few times not sure how to take in all of this. You haven't even talked to this man before and yet you both felt bound to each other like you were meant to rule something together and although he explained it you just couldn't understand how you, a girl with 20 bucks and a few days from being kicked out of college, had managed to catch his eyes.

A dark Storm with an ocean flowing through ready to drown you in it. How did you respond? looking into his weather you felt like you were signing a deal just looking at him. He's dangerous. He smells dangerous like fire burning wood. He breathes war to kill a thousand men and yet you still wanted to shake hands with the devil and be pulled into his dance across the ballroom floor.

"okay" and when he smirked you knew you were just taken on the ride of your life one that would be a roller coaster in the air. he kissed you and the world crumbled beneath your feet but it didn't matter, he caught you before the fall with a hand around your waist pulling you into his lap. The kiss was soft and slow, made you desperate enough to grind in his lap and his fingers only scratched the surface with his gentle touches.

He wasn't giving you rough, he was giving you love and it was frustrating yet you craved it as your heart raced. Why wasn't he squeezing you and tossing you around like you were his toy for pleasure?

"please" you were begging and that's exactly what he wanted. He didn't like the rug begging pulled from under him, if he was gonna be whipped for you then he would make you need him.

"shh, just let me memorize your skin." you felt manipulated. he touched you lightly and made you want to rip the close from him, he kissed you slowly and you kissed back harder not satisfied.

"Please just do something, " you cried, moving against him faster.

"What do you want from me?" he whispered against your neck. The warmth of his breath made your mind more twisted in knots.

"i-i-"

"if you can't tell me what you want then sit the fuck back and let me take control." he growled, pushing you onto the couch. you gasp at how aggressive he became. He was water in a pot when you sat it down. It was cold but when you dip your finger in it, it burns your skin. He let his short nails graze your skin as he traced your body on his way to your wetness.

you bucked into his face as he got closer. you've never acted this way, like you were gonna die without someone's touch but he was addicting with just his breath and you knew you wouldn't be able to let go once he did finally touch you. his fingers hooked in the skimpy underwear, eye contact strong. you could translate that look into many things and he kept his stare on you as he ran the flat of his tongue against your pussy. your breath hitched and your head fell back with a soft moan.

"No, I want you to watch me," he ordered. you weren't sure you could with him licking and sucking at you like this and his stare being that strong. you trembled in his hands as he held your legs so that they didn't fall. your mind was tangled, you wanted to say something but your words wouldn't fit in the right places.

"I- Draco" his eyes shut for a moment, he was starving after you said his name like that and he was going to eat your pussy till you lost your voice saying his name. his tongue slipping into your hole was something different entirely. your eyes rolled back, your lips parted. you were an arms reach from heaven with his tongue tasting your walls. you were chanting His name like it held power.

When he pulled away you realized how much power he had over you. He whipped his mouth, fixed his tie and pulled your underwear back up. you were confused and almost, almost close to begging him to finish but you ignored the ache and straining of your heart.

"So that's it!" you ask sitting up. you hadn't meant to sound so pissed. He smirks.

"Be patient, I won't have you Cumming in a private room in my club. you're too good for that princess." he says glancing over your flustered face before he leaves.

You'd never chase anyone but he made you want to as he walked away…

Request open 😺

Draco's lovers and requests

@alexxavicry, @sarahthehuffpuff, @supercoffeeblogs, @thatwattpadobsessed, @amyclare04, @kyracanwrite, @animeloverfreak310, @imafangirl22, @phildunphyisadilf, @jac1ndaa

[duhragonball]

Neon Genesis Evangelion 17

"A solar eclipse. The cosmic ballet... goes on."

"Sir, the eclipse was last week."

"No, you're supposed to say 'Does anyone want to switch seats?'"

"I ask that every time we take the train, sir."

"No, it's a Simpsons bit. How have you never seen the monorail episode?"

"No one ever wants to switch seats with me..."

This one opens with the council of crappy old men questioning Misato about the events of the previous episode. They wanted to talk to Shinji directly, but Misato refuses to allow this due to his precarious mental state. I accidentally watched this scene early, because I thought it was Episode 16 and I clicked the wrong thing. So these guys are asking about Shinji getting swallowed up, Eva and all, by an Angel, and they want to know if it was trying to communicate with him telepathically. "What the fuck happened?" I asked, and then I realized I was on the wrong one.

So I guess I can relate to these old farts desperately trying to make sense of what's happening in this show. For them it's real life, and NERV isn't exactly forthcoming about the details. Hell, a lot of NERV personnel don't even understand any of this. Shinji was inside that Angel, maybe talking to it, and he has no idea what happened to him. The old men question Misato by proxy, and they ask some good questions. But Misato's answers mostly boil down to "I don't know, and neither could anyone else."

Like, the Angel probably contacted Shinji's mind. I think that's as valid a theory as any. Maybe the Eva was the one talking to him, but if so, it picked a strange time to do it. But I'm just speculating about what might have happened in a fictional cartoon. For the characters, this all actually happened, and they have no idea if the Angels are intelligent, if they recognize humans as intelligent, if they have the means or motivation to communicate, etc. The old man council that talks to Gendo is made up of the most powerful bigwigs in the world, from what I gather. And they only know just enough to be terrified. I can understand how they desperately wish they could just talk to Shinji and ask him what he knows, but then they'd be even more terrified to learn he's even more confused than they are.

All Gendo will say about the matter is that the Angels appear to be getting smarter, which was something I picked up on a while back. The Third Angel just rampaged its way into Tokyo-3. The Fifth Angel had a more coherent plan, and it seemed to know exactly where to point that big drill. The 11th Angel actually made it inside the NERV base and nearly won. But the 12th didn't actually attack. It's like it waited for the Evas to come to it, just so it could trap them inside itself and... do whatever it did. It seems likely that it sacrificed itself just to complete that task. If that's true, then it isn't just acting independently, as some of the characters believe. If I'm right, the 12th Angel was setting up a strategy that will be carried on by the 13th, and so on.

Speaking of the 13th Angel, did you know NERV has a second branch in Nevada? No? Well, it doesn't matter, because it's not there anymore. It mysteriously vanished, along with thousands of staff, a new Eva, Unit-04, and everything else in an 89km radius. This wasn't an explosion, so Ritsuko theorizes that this was accomplished by the same "Sea of Dirac" effect the 12th Angel used to swallow up Shinji. So it's a safe bet that an Angel took out NERV-02 in a single stroke.

There was also another Eva being built in the United States, Unit 03, and I guess that one was already completed, so they're shipping it to NERV's home office in Japan. But Unit 04 was special, I guess. They were installing some new engine in it, and that's all gone now. Ritsuko begins to despair, like she's worried that anything less than five Evas won't be enough to survive what's coming.

Gendo, however, seems confident that the NERV base in Tokyo-3 is all they need, and Unit 01 is the only Eva they need. Unit 04 and the second branch were unexpected losses, to be sure, but he sees them as being of no consequence. So why did NERV bother building them in the first place?

I think I'm starting to get the picture here. I don't know what they're talking about when they refer to the "Dead Sea Scrolls", but it sounds like a set of predictions about future events, and NERV's mission is to navigate humanity through some predicted crisis. But Gendo seems to be the only one who really understands how any of this works. Ritsuko and Clownshoes seem to have some vague grasp of his plan, and maybe Rei knows a thing or two, since she seems to be an important part of it, but I doubt any of them have the complete picture. Then you have characters like the crappy old men, Misato, and Kaji, who know just enough to be concerned.

So I think the NERV branch in the U.S., plus whatever facility they had in Europe, were originally set up as failsafes, in case Tokyo-3 ever failed. But as the plan has progressed, it's become clear that those foreign offices only continue to exist to placate frightened governments. The U.S. insisted on being involved in building Units 03 and 04, and Gendo let the baby have their bottle. He doesn't even need those American Evas, he just let them work on it so they'd have something to do while he handled the important work.

That S2 engine was somewhat important, but this doesn't bother Gendo either, since the designs are still on record in Germany, so they can always build another.

Gendo and Ritsuko discuss the arrival of Eva Unit 03 while they look at a "dummy plug". Basically they built an entry plug with a computer recording of Rei's brain patterns. The idea is to load this thing, empty, into an Eva, and it will activate without a pilot. Ritsuko is skeptical that the Eva will be of much use without a human to operate it, but Gendo doesn't care. As long as it merely activates, that'll be enough for him.

However, the Dummy Plug isn't ready for use just yet, so they still need a pilot for Unit 03, which means they have to recruit the Fourth Child. So is this what Rei's been doing inside this contraption they're looking at? Is it recording her brainwaves to upload into the dummy plug?

But how can they locate the Fourth Child in time? After all, there are very few humans with the right parameters to be compatible Eva pilots. That's why the Marduk Institute was created, to carefully screen potential candidates from all over the world-- ha ha just kidding, there is no Marduk Institute. They put all the likely pilots in the same school in Tokyo-3. And they already have a guy picked out, it's Toji Suzuhara.

I'm skipping around a little, but Misato finds the whole thing fishy, because they just happened to get a Fourth Child lined up right when Unit 03 was ready to be delivered, so she asked Ritsuko about it and Ritsuko was evasive, saying the official paperwork from Marduk would be delivered tomorrow. So Misato asks Kaji what he knows, since he's secretly working for the Japanese government to spy on NERV, and he tells her there never was Marduk Institute or whatever. NERV identifies and selects the Eva pilots themselves, and they use "Marduk" to make it look like there's some convoluted process to it.

I think it probably also struck Misato suspicious that the Fourth Child just happens to be living in Tokyo-3, attending the same classes as the First, Second, and Third Chidren. It's like they already knew he was pilot material from the beginning, and they've been keeping him close by just in case the need arose.

A bunch of people moved out of Tokyo-3 after the battle in episode 2. But Suzuhara and Big Rigg Mahoney stayed, and I'm pretty sure that was because they had family who couldn't leave the city. It's very likely that NERV quietly arranged for certain families to be tied to the city, so that their children would be here when needed.

Ha ha! Look at Ritsuko's coffee mug! That's adorable! Cat cat cat cat!

Anyway, there's a scene where Suzuhara has to deliver papers from the school to Rei, since she's been absent for a while. He doesn't want to go alone, so he asks Shinji to accompany him, although I think that one girl with the pigtails was hoping he'd ask her to join him. Suzuhara is amazed to see a girl's apartment look so dirty, but Shinji's been here before, so he's probably just relieved to see she threw out all the bloody bandages. He cleans up her trash, and when Rei finally comes in, she seems genuinely touched by this gesture. She even thanks Shinji, then later reflects on her words of gratitude. She never even said thank you to Gendo before, and she actually likes and respects him.

Also, Kaji reveals his secret hobby to Shinji: growing watermelons. I have no idea what the point of this is, except that gardening is both a source of pleasure and toil, and while Kaji finds the experience rewarding, Shinji can only think of the pain involved. Well, pain and hardship have some value in the grand scheme of things. As Kaji says, suffering can make it easier for you to be kinder to others.

So you might be wondering where Big Rigg Mahoney's been this whole time? Well, he was off on a trip. I think he toured some old battleship or something. Anyway, as soon as he comes back, Suzuharu gets summoned to the principal's office, and Big Rigg Mahoney's like "What'd you do now?" Ha ha! It's funny because he doesn't know his friend is getting drafted to fight in the robot war!

See, this episode doesn't actually come out and say Suzuhara's the Fourth Child. I mean, it's pretty obvious from the way they keep cutting to Suzuhara after conversations about the new pilot. But they never spell it out. I already know, though, becuase when I was looking up these guys' names so I could tag them on this blog, I ended up finding out Suzuhara is not only chosen to be the Unit 03 pilot, but he also dies later on. So that's why I didn't want to go any further to look up the other kid's names, and that's why I started calling him Big Rigg Mahoney.

Ironically, Big Rigg Mahoney wishes he could be the next Eva pilot. He asks Shinji to recommend him to Misato, but Shinji doesn't have that kind of pull. Neither of them know Suzuhara got the job yet, but when they do find out, Big Rigg Mahoney would probably be kind of envious. Hell, for all we know, Big Rigg Mahoney might actually get the job later on. I refuse to look it up and find out! But I do know there's going to be an opening soon...

But Suzuhara does know he got the job, and the look on his face says it all.

He's still sitting there hours later, and the school rep, who tried to go with him to Rei's place earlier, asks him to finish up his afterschool duties, but he's too bummed out. She mentions how he buys school lunches because he has no one to cook for him, and she says she cooks for her sisters and always makes too much, so...

Suzuhara offers to help her dispose of her leftovers, which is kind of this weird thing where she's doing him a favor, but neither of them want to make it look like a favor. This is powerful stuff, very subtle. Suzuhara's not looking forward to this Eva stuff, maybe because he's sat in the plugsuit with Shinji during a battle, and because his sister is still in the hospital from the Third Angel battle. Oh, right, he visits her twice a week because the rest of his family can't get out there as often, so if he gets killed (ha ha! "if".) there's be no one to visit her at all. I think he's seeing Pigtails here as though for the first time. Before, Suzuhara had his whole life ahead of him, but now he realizes he needs to make whatever connections he can in life, while there's still time to do it.

Meanwhile, Asuka tries to bug Kaji while he's working, and she find out about the new Eva Pilot. She doesn't take this well at all, which... I mean, Asuka never takes anything well, but I think in this case she's upset because Suzuhara being the next pilot just proves there's nothing exceptional about the job. In Germany, she probably believed--and might have been told-- that her compatibility with Unit 02 was a product of her skills and intellect. And she gradually came to recognize Rei and Shinji as peers, albeit begrudgingly. I mean, Rei was the first, and Shinji has the combat experience and stats to back him up.

But to Asuka, Suzuhara is just Some Guy. He didn't go to a fancy school; he's not a savant True Believer like Rei, and he's not the miraculous son of the NERV Director like Shinji. Suzuhara is just some dude she goes to school with, so how does he rate? Well, it's Episode 17, and I still don't know how Eva pilots are chosen, but I'm pretty sure it's just some sort of brainwave pattern that only so many people have. As long as the readouts are in-spec, they could slap anyone in there. Shinji had never seen an Eva before and he survived. Hell, NERV even has plans to run Evas with no pilot, save for a computer simulation of Rei's brain. It really doesn't matter who they put in there as long as it runs.

So naturally, this is huge blow to Asuka's pride. She doesn't understand. What is there to understand, Asuka? You thought you were a pilot, but all you really are is an ignition key.

And that's the episode. Once again, a real tour-de-force, which makes me wonder what the hell was going on with those first 13 episodes. At least now I understand why they've been doing that Rebuild of Evangelion thing. As popular as NGE is, it's an uneven production at best.

And the next episode looks like it's gonna be bleak as fuck. Ha ha! Misato promising fan service in that same cheery voice gets darker and darker every time she says it! This is gonna be terrible! Now this is what I signed up for!