#I keep seeing nostalgia posts and I’m joining in

[davekatzdefensesquad]

I remember that girl being so evil that I wanted to either be her or beat her up. I could have sworn she had a mad scientist for a dad??? Idk I might be remembering it wrong but this game was EVERYTHING to me.

I had a pretty rough childhood and going to the library to play a cute learning game for FREE was a huge deal when you absolutely had nothing at home.

I’m remembering those heavy wooden chairs we had to sit in and even the smell of the library. Also, air conditioning! It was Texas so you know it was boiling hot and having 5 people living in a converted garage didn’t help.

(1996)

[bucks-babe]

How Can I Forget You?

Follow my sideblog @bucks-babesideblog for updates on when I post

Pairing: Bucky x reader x Steve, Stucky x reader, Stucky

Summary: I literally don’t know how to summarize this. 40’s Bucky and Steve go to war, then you know what happens to them, Ladybird is left in the 40’s. Steve and Bucky are in the future. Will they get their Ladybird back?

Warnings: Angst (a lot of it), fluff, poly relationship, pre serum Steve, 40’s Bucky and Steve, 21st century!Bucky and Steve, some gay sex because it was getting too sad (anal fingering, anal, grinding naked), Peggy was never with Steve, implied suicide by alcohol, death of the reader in the 40’s, pet names (darling, ladybird, dumpling), crying, Jewish!Bucky, nostalgia, time jumps, happy ending because who do you think I am, I am not paying for anyone's therapy just so you know

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: There is no mention of the reader's body type nor race. Part of this fic does take place in the 40's, but I wanted to have a blank reader so that readers from any race can imagine themselves as Ladybird. There is no mention of period related homophobia because this shit was already too damn sad. If I missed any warnings, please let me know becuase I know that this fic is angsty and I want to make sure that everyone knows what they are getting into. Thanks to @buckys-wintersoldier for sacrificing her mental health for this fic 🤘

“Stevie, have I ever told you how pretty your eyes are?” Steve blushes and hides his face in Bucky’s chest, breathing in his woodsy scent. “Don’t hide from me, punk, can’t see those pretty eyes anymore.” Running his fingers through Steve’s soft hair and trailing his hand down to the back of the smaller man’s neck, he gently brings his head back up, appreciating the soft, pink glow on his lover’s cheeks.

“Buck,” Steve trails off, not able to form a complete sentence when Bucky is looking at him like this - like he is gorgeous and not scrawny or undesirable. He doesn’t fight when Bucky brings their lips together, moaning at the taste of Bucky’s last cigarette. His eyes flutter as they pull away, both of their pupils blown, lips swollen and cheeks red. “You know, smoking is bad for you.”

Bucky grabs Steve and lays down on the couch, Steve resting between his legs. “I’m going to live until I’m 100, Stevie, smoking or not. You, my dear, are the one we need to worry about.”

“Like hell, you’re going to live that long with those habits. I’m healthy, it’s the doctors that keep telling me I’m not fit to join the army.” Bucky sighs. No matter how much he tries to stop Steve from enlisting, it never works. Not even their Ladybird can convince him.

“Stevie, please. I don’t want to hear anymore talk about this. Not today.” It’s their Ladybird that speaks, voice thick with emotion, yet stern. Neither of her boys would disobey her. She sets the tray with their sandwiches down and quickly leaves the room, palms frantically trying to smooth her dress down, pressing wrinkles that don’t exist.

Today was the day that Bucky had to leave. He didn’t enlist, not when his Ladybird wanted him at home, safe with her and Steve. She was terrified that he wouldn’t come home, leaving her and Steve behind.

But Steve was more stubborn than his man, not accepting staying at home when the men of his country are risking their lives. He needed to protect his country. “Stay here, dumpling.” Leaving a kiss on his forehead, Bucky follows Ladybird into the kitchen.

Two strong arms wrap around her waist and the tears she was desperate to hold in, cascade down her cheeks, ruining the makeup she spent so much time on. She was trying to be strong for him, support him before sending him off, but it was too much. Knowing that he could be killed at any moment, and these could be her final memories of him, was too overwhelming.

“I know, Ladybird, I know. I promise you that I’ll come home, okay? I can’t leave my best girl and guy alone.” She turns in his arms and his calloused palms rest on her cheeks, thumbs wiping away the stream of mascara running down her face.

“Steve, he, he can’t enlist, Buck. He just can’t. How am I supposed to stay here knowing that the loves of my life are out there, getting shot at, bombs going off, huh?” Steve sneaks in, snaking his arms around her waist.

“For you, Ladybird, I won’t. I’ll wait here with you, send Bucky letters, keep you safe, okay?” She knew it was a lie; Steve could never lie, but she chose to believe him in that moment. Maybe for her own sanity, or maybe just to savor the last moments she would ever get to spend with her men.

She was Bucky off, waving to him when he boarded the train, but when Steve left the house for errands she knew where he was going - she never saw him again, but she knew it was for his love for her and Bucky. She didn’t blame him.

***

When Steve woke up from the ice, the first thing he did was see if his Ladybird was still alive. From the moment he got the serum, he regretted lying to her. He knew when he looked in her eyes, she knew what he was going to do; she accepted his choice. It was who he was and she wouldn’t dream of him being anything else.

He cried that night, when Fury gave him the documents he so graciously printed from Google. Ladybird died only a few years after he went on ice. She never moved on. They said it was a broken heart, but the 40’s would never report a woman drinking herself to death, wallowing in the sorrow of lost love.

It was his fault. Maybe she could have healed from the loss of Bucky if he was there. It would never take away the pain, but she would have one of them, but he left her behind. He would visit her grave daily; her body six feet below him, wearing the dog tags of her lovers.

The pain was eased when he found Bucky. They had each other. Even when he couldn’t remember much, Bucky remembered his Ladybird. Steve wishes he could forget the day he had to tell the man he loved that their girl was dead.

“I still want to be with you, Steve.” It took a while before Bucky was stable enough to choose to love again, but it was never a hard decision. The love for Steve too much to ignore.

Their first time was much different from the 40’s. They both changed so much - Steve more so than Bucky. They couldn’t get each other naked fast enough, kisses and loving touches scattered throughout.

Bucky didn’t feel embarrassed by his arm, not when Steve’s eyes were filled with so much love and lust. Bucky had to look away, his eyes landing on his boyfriend’s cock. “Oh my god, Steve!” He didn’t mean to gawk but he couldn’t help it. Steve went from slightly below average to very much above it. Long and thick, veins pulsing through his cock, supplying enough blood to keep his large erection up.

“What? Oh.” Steve’s signature blush crept up his cheeks just like it used to. Even though his body changed so dramatically, he was still the same boy from Brooklyn Bucky fell in love with. “You’re bigger too, Buck.” Steve shied away from Bucky’s gaze, worried about how Bucky’s cock was going to fit inside of him.

“It hasn’t changed that much, dumpling.” It was almost true. Bucky was always above average - maybe seven inches. He was always thick, but now? His cock looked like it doubled in thickness, and around an inch added to his length.

“Yeah, right.” Bucky beamed at Steve as he became more comfortable under Bucky’s gaze.

“Well, how about we compare sizes then?” They both groan at the first contact in years, dicks pressed against each other. “Won’t you look at that, you’re bigger than me, dumpling.” Steve’s face scrunched in confusion, trying to focus through the haze of pleasure. There was no way that he was bigger than Bucky.

Nonetheless, Steve looks down, almost cumming at the sight of his lover’s cock leaking onto his. His eyes widened; he was bigger than Bucky. It was only by an inch, even with the serum thickening his cock, Bucky was still much thicker. “Good boy, see how pretty your cock is? Fuck, missed you so much.”

Bucky groans in between words as he grinds against Steve, cock pushed harder against his. Steve’s hands find the sides of Bucky’s face, pulling him down in a heated kiss while ropes of his cum shoot out onto both of their stomachs and chests. Bucky follows right after, not able to handle the pleasure the simple grind of their hips brings him as they both share their first orgasm since the 40’s.

He collapses on Steve’s chest while they both catch their breath. “Darling, I need your cock in me. Need to feel how you stretch me out.” Bucky’s cock instantly hardens.

“Fuck, dumpling, we don’t have lube.” Even in his lust filled state, Bucky knows that going any further would hurt.

“Don’t need it. Look at all our cum.” Bucky looks down and whimpers. The serum really did a number on them. His first orgasm in 80 years was a lot. The mixture of their cum was dripping down Steve’s sides and leaking down Bucky’s chest. He quickly dips down to get a mouthful of their cum, moaning as he shares it with Steve. “You taste just as good as I remember, Buck.”

Bucky scoops a generous amount onto two of his fingers while Steve eagerly spreads his legs, presenting his tight hole to his partner. At this moment, it’s just the two of them. The pain of their Ladybird is gone, if only momentarily.

The moan that leaves Steve’s lips as Bucky’s first finger breeches his hole is almost enough to have him cumming untouched. He doesn’t know how long he stretches Steve out for, but it was enough time to have Steve cumming on his chest again, giving Bucky more lube to use.

“Ready, dumpling? Ready for your sergeant’s cock?” Steve only moans, frantically nodding his head. No one would have thought that the tough captain was so submissive in bed. Bucky strokes his cock with Steve’s spend a few times before lining up with his stretched out hole.

He meets little resistance as his tip slips in. “Fuck, Steve. Think you’re even fucking tighter.” He has to close his eyes, balls pulsing and pulling up already. Steve’s tight ass ready to suck all of his cum out.

“Uh, uh, just bigger. So much bigger.” Steve’s mind was empty, only wanting his ass full. He cries when Bucky hikes his legs up, wanting to be as close as possible. “Wait, please.” Bucky immediately eases his cock out, knowing that he’s a lot bigger to take now. After a few minutes, Steve’s breath evens out and his eyes lock with Bucky’s, nodding at his lover.

As gently as he can, Bucky slides back inside his ass, slowly feeding Steve inch after inch. “How full are you, Stevie?” It wasn’t smug; Bucky needed to know that Steve was okay. Leaning down, Bucky presses his forehead against Steve’s, staring into his eyes. Tears fall from both of their eyes, connected so intimately again.

“So full, Buck.” He leans up to capture Bucky’s lips in a kiss, neither able to think straight, let alone kiss properly.

“I love you so fucking much, dumpling.” Steve cries out, hips jerking in an attempt to take more of his sergeant’s dick. As Bucky’s hips rest against Steve’s center, they both cum, chanting each other’s name like a mantra, whispers of their love passed back and forth. Neither of them can stop, trying to make up for all the years spent apart. All the years each spent mourning the loss of the other.

By the end of the night, they’re both spent. Cuddled in each other’s arms, Bucky is the first to break the silence. “Is it just me, or does this almost feel wrong without Ladybird?”

“It does, but she wouldn’t want us to stop loving each other.” Bucky doesn’t respond, caught up in his own mind. The pain from losing their Ladybird would never go away and they both knew that.

***

“Dumpling, you should stay there.” It’s said so quietly that if Steve wasn’t a super soldier he wouldn’t have heard him.

“Excuse me?” Steve pulls away, quickly sitting up in the bed.

“You should stay with her. You deserve it - she deserves it.” Bucky hangs his head, not able to look Steve in the eyes.

“And you don’t?”

“No. After all I’ve done, I’d only taint her. She doesn’t deserve that.” It was a decision that Bucky thought long and hard about.

“You think she would believe that? That I would? I just lost you, Buck and you’re asking me to do it again.” Steve stands and paces around the room, not able to comprehend what his boyfriend was saying.

“Think about it, Stevie. At least she would have one of us. You know what happened when she found out we both were ‘dead.’”

“Drop it, okay?” And Bucky did, but he planted the seed inside Steve’s mind.

***

“I’ll never stop loving you, Darling.” Bucky nodded, failing to hold in his tears, knowing that this was the last time he was going to see his best guy.

“Take care of her for me, yeah?”

“You know I will.” He grabs Bucky’s face, sharing their last kiss, tears mixing together. “And don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” His voice cracks, saying his final goodbye.

Bucky swallows hard. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” He caresses Steve’s cheek once more and pats it, letting his hand fall down. They look at each other in silence, burning this memory into their brains.

He can’t bear to look at Bucky when he gets on the pad.

***

Steve’s throat is tight as he looks at his old brownstone. His Ladybird is right behind the door, having no idea who is outside. He picks up the spare key - exactly where it always was.

He has to close his eyes, taking in the familiar scent of the home he shared with his two loves. Stepping over the threshold, he sees her and his breath gets caught in his throat. “Ladybird?” He doesn’t even recognize his own voice, so unsure and in disbelief of what he was seeing.

Her head whips around; the dish she was washing shatters as it hits the ground. “Stevie?” His feet are glued to the ground, back hitting the closed door as he tries not to fall to his knees. “Is it really you?” Unlike him, Ladybird sprints to him, her dress fluttering at the speed she moves, the dog tags of her lovers jiggle with every step.

She almost tackles him to the ground, arms intertwined around his neck, legs clutching his waist. He catches her easily, his own arms squeezing her to his chest. Both of their sobs mix together as Steve drops down on the couch, legs no longer able to hold him up. “I thought you were dead. They send soldiers here and everything.” Steve couldn’t form an explanation, too caught up in her entire being.

He can only pull her into a kiss. It was messy, full of tears and snot, but neither of them cared. She didn’t know how long he waited for this moment. They held each other for hours, crying and kissing. Eventually, she fell asleep in his arms.

Steve didn’t have it in him to put her down as he went around the house. Everything was just as he remembered. The kitchen table, engraved with all their initials, still had three chairs around it, each one in different states of ruin - Bucky always flopped in his chair leaving the legs wobbly. Steve’s favorite mug sat on the lowest shelf, right where pre-serum Steve could reach, even though Bucky loved to put it up higher so that Steve had to ask for his help.

The living room still held the old rickie bookshelf that Ladybird insisted that she could put together by herself, no matter how many times her men offered help. Upon it was Bucky’s first edition copy of The Hobbit. He and Ladybird would always make fun of him for how much time, money, and effort he spent just to get that book - Steve placed it in a box along with the recipes from Mrs. Barnes.

The bedroom made his breath hitch, his arms instinctively holding Ladybird closer. His favorite chair, ripped in multiple spots, sat in the corner of the room, right by the window. Right next to it was his stand where his old sketchbook sat untouched - he put that in the box too. Bucky’s side of the closet hung his clothes, neatly arranged in order of his favorites, while Steve’s clothes lay on the ground in a pile, always too lazy to fold them.

The top left dresser draw held the photo album Ladybird made them for Christmas/Hanukkah - that went in the box. Ladybird’s jewelry box had a necklace with the Star of David that she saved for to get Bucky on his birthday. Bucky gave it back to her before he left for safekeeping - in the box it went. On top of the dresser were all the letters she sent to Bucky and Steve, along with the letters they sent her. The army gave them back to her with their dog tags - Steve made sure to not damage them as they were placed in the box.

***

The team shared gasps and whispers between themselves as Steve reappeared with a woman in one arm and a small box in the other. He whispers something in her ear before pointing in the distance.

A gorgeous smile graces her lips as her eyes meet Steve’s target. She doesn’t hesitate to sprint across the grass, bare feet and ignoring all of the Avengers. Bucky doesn’t hear the beat of her steps, overwhelmed at the loss of both of his partners.

He doesn’t know what hit him as he falls to the ground. Kisses are placed all over his face. For a second, he thinks that he’s dreaming because he would know her smell anywhere, the feeling of her lips ingrained in his mind. But even in his dreams, he couldn’t hear her voice, always muffled and distant, but it was clear as day as he lay on the soft ground.

“Bucky!” He has to grab her face to stop her assault, pulling her back far enough to confirm that it was real, that his Ladybird was in his arms.

“Bird? Oh my god.” He pulls her back down, showering her with affection, practically rolling them around in the grass, not caring about the audience that slowly surrounded them. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Her tears come back once again. His hair was longer, worry lines sprinkled around his face, cool metal pressed against her right cheek, his right hand more callused than before. Steve told her a bit about what happened, about how Bucky lost his arm, how insecure he felt because of it.

Without pause, she tilts her head, soft lips placed delicately on his metal palm. “You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.” Stuck in their own little bubble, they don’t notice Steve laying beside them until his arms wrap around them both.

With one look he gets the rest of the Avengers to leave them in peace. Unlike his past self, Steve could lie when he needed to. He knew that Bucky wouldn’t have let him go to return the stones if he knew Steve wasn’t going to stay. Laying a kiss to Bucky’s forehead, Steve takes in the sight before him, all of them together at last.

“Bucky, you were right. I did take all the stupid with me.” Bucky’s tear streaked face looks over at his partner.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, dumpling.” For the first time since before the war, all three of them felt at peace, finally in each other’s arms again. It may have taken 80 some years, but none of them would change a thing if there was even the smallest chance that they wouldn’t end up together.

[madschiavelique]

omg okay y’all absolutely LOVED this post right here about young halsin x you turning to the shadow druids and meeting decades later so let me elaborate a bit about it (ps i’m in pain physically as i write this so it’s not proofread at all and very quick but i need to let some thought out)

imagine halsin and you, in his quarters, ready for interrogation. it’s night, some fireflies are coming in and out of his windows, but you’re not watching them. your eyes are planted in halsin’s.

so many questions swirl in his mind like individual drops of rain falling all at once together on calm water.

you were gone, at least that’s what he had thought for so many years. maybe you had perished after the flames, maybe you had changed of continents, maybe you had fought another battle that led you to the sour arms of death.

he never thought he was to see you again, not even in afterlife. but here you are, all tied up in front of him.

more beautiful than ever.

and you, you’re watching him in silence, hooked on his lips in expectation of whatever he might say.

he has the strength to form a sentence, trying his very best to keep it all under the “protecting the grove” argument.

“why are you here ?” he asks.

his voice changed so much. it’s much deeper, like thunder coated in honey. his voice was already the sweetest back in the days, but the new one…

“trying to prevent your grove from getting in trouble.” you answer, leaning your head back against the wood of the wall, not leaving his eyes.

he frowns, the duties of archdruid have changed him. he matured, you think, he made a man out of the snarky boy you once knew.

“from…” he says, searching his words, “troubles like you ?”

troublemaker, that was the nickname he used to give you. you’d always tried by every mean to make him look less perfect than how he used to be back in the days, and you still wondered if he had managed to remain effortlessly errorless.

you smiled, full of nostalgia at the single word, “i was your favourite kind of trouble. the one coming for you, though…”

“quit your games,” he stopped, “what are you truly here for ?”

“i told you, your grove’s about to be in danger.”

“how’s that ?” he scoffed, “you, the great deserter, coming to such a haven in search for something else to destroy ?”

halsin still had some bitterness. you had not just left him, you had been dishonest with him, betrayed your home, your friends, your circle, him.

“i did not mean to destroy the temple.” you said between clenched teeth.

“but you did it anyway.” he spat.

“because it was either see this stupid rubble go into flames or watching you die!” you snapped.

halsin’s eyes went wide, anger and surprise and confusion passing on his face and heart without transition as he looked at you with new eyes.

now, imagine that the reason why the shadow druids took you in in the first place was because of leverage, and this leverage was halsin.

imagine the poisoned words they made you drink, how they certified to you that by coming to their order you could finally top him on something and not be an eternal second of his.

that notion of being second had for a while been less and less present to the front of your mind, this simply because you were no longer in a competition with him, at least not in your mind.

but what if they had made you believe that halsin charming you until you fell for him was his own strategy to get first ? what if they had made you bitter enough about him that you had fallen for their lies ?

what if they had threatened to kill him if you were to not join them ?

should i give more loves 👁️👁️

small tags for the people that wanted to hear more about this !!

@halsinningiswinning @radioactivepidgeon @daughter-lilith @fruitymoonbeams-blog @sparrowbard @oooof-ifellforyou @girlwithadragonheart @altered-delta

[arealphrooblem]

Kidnapped by the Boss Part 7

Hey guys! Sorry it's been like a million years since I updated anything! I got burned out for a while and I'm slowly getting back to it. Hopefully with summer break looming, you'll see more of me!

Synopsis: Civilian is a secretary to the Prime Minster. But when the political summit between the city states goes awry, she finds herself kidnapped by the very boss she tried to protect and nothing is what it seems.

Part one here

Part six here

"What is this?”

It looked harmless, a small metal rectangular wrist band with no buttons or engraving or adornment of any kind. She didn’t trust it, regardless, not that that mattered to Rook, who kept his explanations to himself as he grabbed her hand. She tried to jerk it back, but his grip turned bruising and iron tight as he latched it shut.  

It hugged tightly on her, a nearly imperceptible hum against her skin. Only a tiny seam remained on the bottom, with no button or latch or catch to open it.

“What is it?” she demanded, swallowing down a flutter of panic.

Rook rolled his eyes. “Relax, princess. It’s just a tracker.”

“A tracker?”

“Yeah. Consider it your freedom. Now you can go anywhere you want and no one has to worry about you slipping out to somewhere you shouldn’t be.”

She gave him an appraising look. “Are you going to come fetch me if I go somewhere I shouldn’t?”

“No. I’m just going to push a button and an electric current will take you out until someone finds you.”

He gazed back, utterly impassive, and Val couldn’t tell if he was trying to scare her or not. She refused to be cowed though.

“How strong of a current are we talking about?” she asked

A smirk spread slowly across his face. “Why don’t you get near an airport and find out? If it doesn’t kill you, then you’ll have your answer.”

Val jut her chin up, meeting his smirk with a glare. “Do you get a kick out of trying to make me afraid? Does it make you feel tough?”

He snorted and stepped closer to her. She stood stock still as he linked their arms together.

“You’re in enemy territory, Val,” he murmured, ducking his head down close to her ear, like he was sharing a secret.  “I’m just trying to keep you on your toes.”

“How thoughtful of you.”

The corner of his mouth lifted up. “My king wants you down for lunch in his office. I’ll show you the way.”

The king’s office looked much the same as it did when he was Eugene the Prime Minister. Papers scattered in random piles, post it notes scribbled with cryptic notes only he understood. Reminders taped on walls, the desk, the door.

A table was cleared off, the papers clearly dumped on the desk. A spread of soup and sandwiches sat on it, the king sitting in one of the chairs, waiting. Val was hit with a pang of nostalgia, because this set up looked exactly like the ones they had during campaign season. She didn’t know if he did it deliberately or if this was just how he ran his life.

“Afternoon, Val,” he said with a smile. “I see you have your tracker now.”

“And potential execution device,” she added dryly.

He shrugged. “Only a stupid person would need to worry about the electric shock and you are not stupid.”

“That makes me feel so much better.”

He smiled again, ignoring her sarcasm. “Have a seat.”

She reluctantly joined him and helped herself to a sandwich, knowing this whole charade was just to watch her eat. Rook did not join them, preferring to lean against the wall next to the king. It felt a little unnerving to eat under both of their stares but she knew there’d be hell to pay if she didn’t.

And she had to admit, the food was painfully delicious.  

“You now control the lock on your door,” the king said (Aris? It still didn’t feel right but neither did Eugene). “You may stay or leave your room as you please. All unlocked areas of the castle are open to you, as well as the grounds. If you wish to head into the city, Rook will escort you.”

Rook’s mouth fell open in outrage. “You cannot be serious! I babysit her enough as it is and you want me to take her out for ice cream and shopping? Who is protecting you while I run bullshit errands with her?”

“Hey! Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I have a shopping addiction,” she snapped.

“Like you wouldn’t jump at the chance to blow all the king’s treasury just to fuck us over.”

“What the hell am I going to be buying to drain it ��� a super yacht?”

“Children, please.” The king — Aris — held up a hand. “It’s not an ideal situation for any of us, but the two of you will have to give each other a little faith.”

Val and Rook let out twin snorts of derision and then shot each other matching glares.

“As I was saying,” Aris said with a warning look, “you have been given a probationary amount of freedom, Val.”

“Probationary?” So this was temporary?

“Yes. Your privileges will change depending on your actions. If you stay obedient, prove yourself, then you freedoms will grow. If you try to circumvent your restrictions, you will lose your freedoms and live in a cell much less cozy than the rooms I’ve given you.”

Obedient. Like a toddler. Like a dog. 

Not for the first time did helpless rage well up in her throat like acid. So many retorts and screams crowded her mouth that it rendered her speechless, unable to choose which to say first and terrified to say any of them.

Eug— Aris — looked at her in such smug satisfaction, as if proud of himself for bestowing a phenomenal gift. If Rook wasn’t in the room, Val could have hit him. Her fingers curled in on themselves to fight the temptation regardless.

“Do you have any questions?” Aris tilted his head slightly, studying her.

She used to love having his full attention on her — something made rare and precious because of his busy schedule and bouts of scatterbrained day dreaming. Right now it made her skin crawl, adding fuel to the feeling of constantly being under surveillance, never able to relax.

“Can I go now?” she asked tightly.

His gaze ducked down to her half-eaten lunch. “You haven’t finished your food.”

The rage leaped up, like a kerosene drenched campfire. She felt reckless and wild with it and without a second thought, flipped her plate off the table to watch it shatter to the floor, food spraying over the lush carpet.

“I’m done,” she said. “Now?”

She had no idea what her face looked like at that moment, but whatever Aris saw on it made him sit back in his seat.

“Yes,” he said slowly, warily. “Of course.”

Val stood so far that her chair fell backwards. “Thank you,” she bit out, dripping venom, before striding out the door.

She had no idea where she was headed, and she didn’t care. Val picked a direction and walked as fast as she could towards it. If it led her to a so-called restricted section of the palace, then maybe that would put her out of her misery.

The padded footsteps sound too close and too late to react before a hand grabbed her shoulder. Val whirled around, fist striking out in pure instinct at the warm body behind her. In less than a second, that body gripped her wrist and shoved her against the wall of the hallway.

Rook.

Of course.

“Someone is very cranky today,” he said, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a smirk.

“Let me go,” she snarled, pushing ineffectively against him.

Rook complied, releasing the bruising grip on her wrist and taking a wide step back, hands up in mock surrender.

“Not many people can scare the king, but I think you managed it just then,” he said.

“What the hell do you want? You have a tracker now. You don’t need to stalk me anymore.”

“We never finished our tour. I wouldn’t want you wandering somewhere you shouldn’t and getting electrocuted on your first day.”

“I’ll figure it out on my own, thanks.”

Rook gave her that same kind of stare Aris did — an assessment. Complete with head tilt. They must spend a lot of time together.

“You’re very angry for someone who was just given a significant amount of freedom that they quite frankly don’t deserve,” he said slowly.

She gave him a poisonous look. “I am not talking about this with you.”

And now that smirk again. “Thank god. I’m not paid to be a feelings person. But I think I know what you need.”

“A long walk off a tall cliff?”

He snorted. “Tempting. But no. Follow me and find out.”

It was probably a stupid decision to follow the most untrustworthy person she’d ever met, but having more opportunities to hate Rook offered her a welcome distraction. So, against all sanity, Val followed him down to an elevator and watched him push the basement button.

“Is that where you keep the torture chambers?” she asked, half joking, half . . .not joking.

“Sometimes it feels that way,” he muttered back.

The elevator dinged and opened to gleaming wooden floors and bright lights. It looked like the reception of a swanky business more than a typical basement. Down a short hallway sat an interior room lined with windows and inside sat various mats, weights, and other equipment.

“You brought me to the gym?” she asked dubiously.

“Yep.”

He made a bee line to a tall metal cabinet and pulled out boxing gloves. “Catch.”

Too fast for her to react, they hit Val square in the face and fell to the floor. She sent him another glare as he snickered before bending down to pick them up.

“You want me to hit something?”

Which actually sounded great, come to think of it.

“I want you to hit me.”

Oh even fucking better.

It felt too good to be true. But Val watched as he pulled out two wide padded circles and fitted them over his palms before he stepped onto one of the mats.

“You gonna put them on or are you chickening out?”

She yanked them onto her hands, their weight surprisingly heavy and then followed him onto the mat.

Rook held up his hands in the mock surrender pose.

“Hit these as hard as you can.”

“You’re serious?” She eyed him dubiously. “What if I hit you in the face?”

“You won’t.”

“You sure? It seems real tempting.”

He grinned. “The day you land a hit on me, I’ll smuggle you back home myself.”

As much as she wanted to deck his face, Val knew a trap when she heard one. Instead, she followed his instructions, landing a blow square against the right hand pad.

He didn’t even budge.

“Come on, Val, I know that’s not all you got. You were so full of rage earlier. Don’t tell me it left already.”

Oh, it didn’t. But she felt nervous putting her full effort in. Either it would hurt him and he’d make her pay or it would be pathetic and he’d mock her.

“You can’t laugh,” she said.

“Oh, I’m going to laugh. Now fucking hit me already.”

She took a deep breath and then slammed her fist against the pad with all her might. He never lost his footing, but she was pleased to see his body sway a fraction.

“Much better. I knew you had it in you. Do it again.”

“What’s the point of this?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Stress relief. I love hitting things when I’m mad. And if you’re hitting me then you’re not hitting my king. So come on, Val. Give me everything you’ve got.”

He asked and she delivered. Val channeled all the injustice, the fear, the grief that the last week had brought her into her fists, driving them over and over into Rook’s padded hands. She didn’t stop, not when her arms started to shake, not when sweat soaked her back, not when a lancing pain hit her shoulder with each impact. It was mindless violence with no victim and it blocked out everything else.

“Ok, okay, Val. That’s enough.”

His voice echoed distantly and she dismissed it instantly. He took a step back and she chased him. It wasn’t until he wrapped his arms around her from behind, trapping her arms against her sides.

“That’s enough Val,” he said in her ear.

She was breathing like a winded rhinoceros, her chest burning with it. But with each slowed breath, exhaustion threaded itself through her limbs and tugged. Eventually she slumped against his chest, happy to let him take all the weight of her. Even then he did not budge.

She was too tired to be angry now.

“Your form is absolute dog shit,” he said, his grip cautiously loosening. “But you have some potential. I could train you, if you wanted.”

“Train me?” With supreme effort, she pulled away from and turned to face him. “Train me in what?”

“Boxing. Mixed martial arts. Basic self defense. You can have your pick.”

“You want to teach me how to fight?” She crossed her arms. “Is this some kind of trap? What’s the catch?”

He raised an eyebrow. “There’s no catch. It would get you in shape, get your mind off things. Give you some sense of control.”

“And then I could use it against you.”

He had the gall to laugh at that, head thrown back. “Not in a million fucking years.”

“You think I could never be a threat to you?” Now she felt insulted. “Is it because I’m a woman?”

Rook rolled his eyes. “The scariest people I’ve ever met have been women. But a few weeks or months of the basics is never going to match years of intensive training. If you ever manage to hit me, it’s because I let you for your pride.”

He held out his hands for her gloves and she pulled them off with surprising reluctance.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you the way back to your room. You need a shower.”

“Thanks,” she said dryly.

But a tiny flicker of gratitude wormed its way through her chest as she followed him back to the elevator. The exercise had cleared her head. She felt soothed, the tightness in her chest dissipated. Rook undoubtedly had ulterior motives for helping her, but he still could have let her drown in her own rage until she did something stupid that he’d gleefully punish her for.

Instead he gave her a much needed outlet.

She didn’t know how to feel about that.

Let me know in a comment if you want to be tagged!

Part 8 here

Taglist

@rivalriotrenegade @sunyside-world @fishtale88 @those-damn-snippets @suspiciousmuffin @thats-alittle-gay @girl-of-the-sea-and-stars @tobeornottobeateacher @burningkittypoet @kurai-hono-blog @clover-sage

[drunknillawafer]

right down the line: zuko x firebender!reader | part 7

You grew up close to the Royal Family due to your father's position as a General, but you ran away from home after the agni kai against your best friend, Zuko. Now, you've joined the Gaang and plan on doing your part in ending the 100-year war.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

hi part 7... picking up right where we left off... i think I'm going to post a masterlist & keep it linked on my pinned to make it easier to sift through and find, esp since i do plan on posting other fics once i finished my very first >.< also i want to post the songs i listen to while I'm writing and some visuals hehe... just to make it much more immersive. again i do not own these characters and they are not mine! (except my mc i guess) like comment reblog if ya like... enjoy! about 1785 words

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

We’re standing on a sand-colored platform of a structure currently being renovated or changed to fit Fire Nation standards. The usual for when they occupy lands that don’t belong to them. Aangs in front of me, with Sokka to my left and Katara to my right. We form a triangle and I'm thankful for the partial covering.

I’m thinking of the best way to summarize the threats ahead of us, just in case they try to change the plan. There’s a good chance this will go south.

“Mai, in the center, has good aim with her blades, but it’s Ty Lee, on the left, you should keep an eye out for.” I try to give my friends the run-down on my, I guess, old friends one would say. But we’ve only got so much time before all three of them realize that I’m here.  

They lower King Bumi from the top of the building using a metal crane. They’ve got him in a coffin-shaped cage with only his head showing.

“You brought my brother?” Mai speaks first, breaking the silence between the two groups. She squints at the sight of me, but I’m too far away for her to be sure it’s me.

“He’s here.” Aang solemnly replies. “We’re ready to trade.” In these moments, he’s got the grace of a 112-year-old.

Suddenly, Azula speaks to Mai in a hushed tone we can’t quite hear. Fine is never fine with Azula, nothing is ever the way it should be with her. There’s bound to be some trick up her sleeve that only feeds into her misery.

“I’ll help with the girl on the right, she’s the most vicious,” I warn them. I briefly make eye contact with Sokka. We haven’t talked about what was said and now wasn’t the time, but I couldn’t help but yearn for his gentleness. A reminder that I wasn’t like the enemies in front of us, but someone new. Someone he couldn’t hate.

Then, Mai steps forward. “The deal’s off.” With a lift of her gloved hand, King Bumi is raised once again by the crane.

“Bumi!” Aang cries out for his old friend and starts heading towards him, defying the laws of gravity bestowed upon the rest of us. It’s enchanting to see an air-bender. It’s so different from the rest of the elements. He looks like he’s flying.

As he does so, Azula strikes, and I see her blue flame for the first time. She must’ve perfected her oxygen levels for complete combustion; but if she’s the Azula I’ve always known, I know how to beat her. This time, I won’t go easy. I won’t make that same mistake again for nostalgia.

Aang’s head covering flies away as the air moves around him and his arrow is exposed.

I look down at Azula’s reaction and she’s close enough now to hear.

“The Avatar. My lucky day.” The princess smirks, re-organizing her plans for Omashu in her head.

“Remember, don’t let Ty Lee touch you!” I warn Sokka and Katara and dash toward Azula, offering Aang some support against the crazed fire-bender.

I follow her upward, burning the knot on the pulley to cause the rope to lift.

Azula can see me through the grids as the ropes pull us to the top of the building, and I can see her in real-time realize who I am.

“Well, if it isn’t the Royal traitor. Seems like you and Zuzu still share a brain.” She gloats.

“Leave the Avatar alone, Azula. I mean it!” We break through the ceiling made from wood and reach the roof of the building under construction.

She attacks Aang with a blue blast, causing him to break the metal chain. Aang instantly heads downward with King Bumi. He cushions their fall with an air bubble, and they land on the well-known ramps of Omashu. Azula quickly follows them using a cart, and I’m on her tail. If only I had Sokka’s boomerang right now, it makes so much sense to carry one in these situations.

We catch up to Aang, giving Azula the chance to strike him and Bumi.

I distract her with my own fire-blasts, making sure to lean forward and crash into her cart.

“Out of practice?” She questions.

“Out of patience.” I growl, punctuating my sentence with a blast from my right hand.

As we continue our fight by speeding through the ramps, I see Appa in the distance. Relief washes over me as I conclude Sokka and Katara must have gotten away from Mai and Ty Lee.

Aang attempts to lift Bumi onto Appa’s saddle with his bending, but he miscalculates and Bumi’s off to land on the ground. But his friend won’t let him go on his own. Together, they land on another ramp and head down to ground-level.

Azula’s right behind them, and I’m right behind her.

She attempts another attack, but a rock blocks her offense and bursts her cart into dust. I leap off mine before the impact breaks my cart too and we both land on our feet, an homage to our identical upbringing.

She lets Aang go for a reason I can’t quite put my finger on until she turns around to face me. We're still standing on the ramps.

“The key to never losing is knowing when you’re beat.” She says with her hands in defense, signaling that she’s waving the white flag.

I’m still in fight mode. I’d never let my guard down around her, not now, not ever. “You’ll always be beat as long as I’m here.”

She pauses to truly grasp my presence. It’s been three years since we’ve seen each other, and everything’s changed. We used to be on the same team, never friends but bonded by our birthplace. It’s the first time we no longer owe each other pleasantries. Azula, however, uses sweetness as a weapon. “Where have you been, Y/N? You’re missed at the Royal Palace.”

“I doubt it.” Zuko and his mother haven’t touched that home in years, making it impossible for anyone there to actually miss me.

“Your father misses you.”

“I know you’re lying, Azula.”

“You’ve never trusted me; I’ve never liked you. Now we don’t have to pretend do we?”

“Leave us alone,” I get in my fight stance. “Got it?”

“Fine. Loud and clear.” She dashes away in her infamous run toward the unfinished building, probably to catch up with her friends.

Fine isn’t fine. It’s I’ll get you somehow. I think to myself.

I watch her figure fade into the distance, when it hits me: “Seems like you and Zuzu still share a brain.”

Did Zuko abandon his ship?

Is she lying? She would have no reason to lie about something like that, other than to get to me or Aang. I can’t pinpoint a motive. I still won’t believe her 100 percent, but I’ll keep it in my back pocket.

I slide down the ramp Aang took and find the both of them at the very end, standing on a platform in another unfinished building. Once I’m off and my two feet hit the floor, Bumi bends rock to lift his metal enclosure up the ramp in a fit of laughter.

We both watch him go. “Your friend is very… eccentric.” I tell Aang, as he’s standing with Momo on his shoulders.

“Yeah.” I turn to face him, something’s wrong. He’s disappointed.

“He’s not going to teach you earth-bending?” I assume.

“No, he has to stay here to protect Omashu. I guess I got to find another teacher.” Now, he looks like a twelve-year-old boy with the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. There’s no way he’s meant to do this alone. I’d rather be here helping him than with Zuko.

“We’ll find one in no-time.” I reassure him.

“Who were those three girls?” He changes the subject.

“They were old friends too. Azula is Zuko’s sister.”

“Wow.”

“I know.” I sit on the edge of the platform, waiting for our ride with my feet dangling. Aang sits next to me, and for now, we’re just two kids talking, staring at the beautiful Earth Kingdom in front of us.

“What was it like… to grow up with them?”

“It was easy with Zuko. Azula… not so much.” I wince.

Aang’s face contorts, as if he’s remembering a distant memory. “Was Zuko good? Yaknow, back then?”

A smile creeps up on my face. “He was.”

“Do you think he still could be?”

Aang and I stare at each other. We’re choosing to live in the moment before my answer. The moment in which the possibility of Zuko changing his mind, realizing his mistakes, and helping us stop his father exists.  

“I don’t know.”

☆

The heat and the prickly bushes are upsetting him further with each and every single step. Looking for food when you’re used to someone cooking for you is daunting, Zuko realizes. How is he ever supposed to live like this? How did Y/N?

As he’s walking back to let Uncle know he couldn’t find anything edible, he touches the side of his hair. It’s grown back a bit since cutting it, slicing off his ties to the Fire Nation. Trading in the red for green, hoping to camouflage with the land and the Earth Kingdom people.

What a stupid idea, he thought. How could anyone ever confuse him with anyone else with the scar on his left eye?

But it seemed to be working so far. His sister hadn’t found them, and they haven’t been arrested for their crimes against every other nation.

In the humid morning, on his long walk back to where his uncle was staring at a tea leaf, he thought about the Northern Water Tribe.

He wondered if Y/N was okay from his strike. Maybe the water-bender girl could heal her, and she’d be okay again. He didn’t mean to. He’s been this hard and heavy with everyone else for the sole purpose of returning home, he forgot Y/N was his home. He’s been in fighting mode for so long, he’s forgotten to turn it off.

She wasn’t home, though. She was with the Avatar. Defending him and betraying her nation. How did she get there? He wondered. He had so many questions about everything. Zuko’s sure she had just as many questions for him.

Could he find her now that he was labeled a traitor?

Where his mind led made his empty stomach drop.

If he found her, he’d find the Avatar. Then, he could go home. But if Y/N was not there, would he still want to go back? Did his father’s acceptance matter above all else? It didn’t for Y/N, but she was always braver than him.

Zuko wasn’t ready for that thought, so he pushed it away.

It wasn’t hard to do when your stomach was louder than your thoughts.

------------------

tag list <3: @camilleverreault @staygoldsquatchling02

[cyberneticfallout]

Chapter Eight: The Yao Guai's Visit

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: The two of you seek shelter for the night, enjoying a brief moment of domesticity before a glowing yao guai stalks through. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventually more smut, language, canon-typical violence, chem/alcohol use, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 1.7k

The two of you manage to find a ramshackle of a home. Sure, half the roof is missing and there’s a gross amount of radroaches but it feels like a haven compared to the risk of sleeping out in the open. Without wasting time, both of you start working - getting rid of the pests and settling into your newfound shelter.

While he gets a fire going in the more open area of the tiny dwelling, you sit on the floor, rummaging through your bag, contemplating what meal to prepare. You had discovered a few packaged meals like Blamco Mac and Cheese, Cram, and InstaMash from the Super Duper Mart. After a bit of consideration, you decide on Cram mac and cheese for tonight's dinner. You can't help but wonder, though - does he still have his taste buds? It's possible for some ghouls to retain some sense of taste. However, if he's been like this for two centuries, it's highly likely that his taste buds may have deteriorated.

You're grateful that those so-called sheriffs didn't confiscate your weapons or any items from your bag. Although you rarely use the pip-boy nowadays, it's handy for monitoring your health status and checking possibly high radiation levels in new areas. Seeing you fiddle with the device, the Ghoul decides to join you, taking a seat beside you as the fire roars into a steady blaze.

“Keep that on you. It will notify us if there’s any sizable mutants nearby.” He commands.

"Aye, aye captain," you half-heartedly salute him as you secure the pip-boy onto your wrist with a click.

Getting up, you make your way to what remains of the kitchen area and start rummaging for any cookware. After some searching, you find a decently sized pot, fill it with a carton of somewhat purified water from your bag, and position it over the fire. As you begin preparing the meal, The Ghoul silently observes, watching as you cut up the Cram into bite-sized pieces and add the macaroni pasta into the now boiling water. There was something so domestic about the whole thing, a rare moment of nostalgia washes over him, reminding him of a time when such simple comforts were more than just a distant dream.

After some time passes, you manage to create a modest dinner for the two of you. The effort you put into the meal is a bit surprising, but it's a welcome change from the usual scavenged scraps. The scent of the food wafting through the air adds a touch of comfort to the desolate surroundings.

"It’s too bad you can’t smell this," you joke as you hand him a serving with a bent spoon and an intact bowl you found. "I’m hoping you can at least somewhat taste it?"

With a glare, he quickly devours everything in the bowl before setting it down, offering a nod in your direction. He then leans against the nearby wall, the weight of the day's chaos settling between you. The silence that follows is a welcomed break, allowing you both to catch your breath and collect your thoughts. But as the quiet lingers, the unanswered questions from the day's events weigh heavily on your mind.

"What did that guy mean when he said you’re still looking for her?" you ask quietly, taking a bite of food.

"None of your damn business, Smoothie," he retorts, his tone sharp and guarded.

"Is it a wife or somethin'?" you press, unable to shake off your curiosity.

"If you don’t drop the subject, then I will shoot you," he warns, pulling his hat down to cover his eyes. Just as you're about to argue, the geiger counter on your pip-boy starts going off, the sound cutting through the tense atmosphere. The Ghoul looks up at you, alarmed, and rushes to put out the fire. As you stand up and look around for any sign of what could be causing the disturbance, you feel a sudden grip on your arm as he pulls you towards the wall, pressing you against it and covering your mouth with one of his hands.

“Shut the damn thing off,” he whispers urgently to you. You hastily flick through the device and manage to turn off the geiger counter, the sudden silence amplifying the tension in the room.

As you stand frozen against the wall, a hand tightly gripping your waist and another muffling your frightened gasps, he silences you with a shushing motion. The sound of a deep, rumbling growl resonates ominously from the other side of the wall, causing your heart to pound with such intensity that you fear the creature on the other side will hear it.

Desperate for any distraction, your eyes dart towards the nearby window, revealing a glowing yao guai leisurely strolling around the building. His gaze locks onto you, his eyes filled with intensity, as if he can sense the frantic rhythm of your racing pulse beneath your skin. His touch momentarily rubs circle on your waist, but he withdraws abruptly, as though realizing the inappropriateness of the gesture.

Gradually, the footsteps of the yao guai fade into the distance. The Ghoul slowly removes his hand from your mouth, and for a few lingering moments, the two of you simply gaze into each other's eyes. Overwhelmed by a surge of unexpected courage, you reach out and gently caress his cheek, feeling the rough yet surprisingly smooth texture of his scarred skin. Drawing closer, your lips tenderly brush against his.

"You don't want this, sweetheart," he murmurs softly, his words barely grazing your lips.

"And how could you possibly know what I want?" you challenge.

A mischievous smirk dances across his face as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. "Well, considerin’ you keep referrin’ to me as 'beef jerky,' I'm inclined to believe that most people don't fantasize about dried meat."

"Maybe I do," you assert, the words barely a whisper as you close the gap between you two with a soft kiss. You can sense his hesitation as your part, a subtle tension in his body as he grapples with his own conflicting emotions. In a sudden, bold move, he leans in, capturing your lips with a hunger that takes you by surprise. A low, guttural moan escapes from his mouth, blending with your own as the kiss deepens.

His hand comes up to tug you towards him from the back of your head, intensifying the contact between you. The sensation almost leaves you breathless, eliciting a gasp that mingles with the shared breath between you. You bite his lower lip, a mix of playful teasing and unbridled longing in the gesture. He responds with a deep groan, the sound sending a thrill through you as he presses his hips into yours, the bulge of his arousal evident.

Your heart races as your hands glide down his neck, delicately tracing the contours of his skin. Your touch remains gentle and exploratory as your fingers nimbly unbutton his shirt, slipping beneath the fabric to reach his chest. Tracing the intricate patterns of his skin with care, you relish the intimacy of the moment. He twitches underneath your touch, his bare chest feeling the caress as if for the first time in ages.

Suddenly, he pulls back, his hand gripping your neck and pushing you away forcefully. He stares at you, his grip firm and unyielding. You're left wondering what caused him to snap. Could it have been because you touched his bare skin? You notice his expression shifts from intensity to a hint of vulnerability. His hand slowly releases its grip on your neck, and he takes a step back, creating a distance between you.

Stunned by the sudden denial, you watch as The Ghoul walks away and settles against the opposing wall. With crossed arms and a resigned posture, he leans his head back, uttering a soft “G’night” that hangs in the air like a final farewell to the intense moment you both shared.

Feeling a mix of emotions, you slide down the wall on your side of the room, your breath still heavy and your skin slightly damp with sweat. As you sit there, processing the abrupt end to the passionate encounter, you can't help but feel an anxious pang of rejection. The feeling begins gnawing at you, a heavy ache in your chest that lingers.

The morning sun finds you both silent and tense, caught in the aftermath of the previous night. The air between you is thick, filled with unsaid words and unaddressed feelings. Neither of you managed a good night's sleep, the discomfort of the cold, hard floor only a minor nuisance compared to the war within your minds.

As you both go about packing your things, each movement seems to echo loudly in the silence, punctuating the awkwardness that has settled between you. Neither of you dares to meet the other's gaze, the memory of the stolen kiss lingering in the air like a ghost.

In hindsight, kissing him was a foolish decision. You barely know him, and the little you do know paints him more as an uncompromising brute than a potential romantic interest. Despite the brief moments of camaraderie, he's been a prickly, distant companion for the most part. You find yourself questioning your actions, the taste of regret bitter on your tongue.

“So what’s the plan?” You attempt to lighten the mood, “Seems like we’re not after a head anymore.”

“We’re tracking a woman by the name of Moldaver. That's where the head is goin’,” he responds.

"Flame Mother…" you muse aloud, "I wonder what her deal is."

"I find myself askin’ the same about you," he murmurs almost inaudibly.

With an eye roll, you sling your bag over your shoulder, then give him a nod to signal that you're ready to hit the road. The Ghoul briefly mentions a letter he found on one of the men he shot up in Filly that references Moldaver. He believes that the same man was the son of an old associate of his, and that's where the two of you are headed - a long journey ahead. You take a deep breath, activate your pip-boy, and lock eyes with him. "Let's do this, beef jerky.”

Tag List: @fallout-girl219 @ellabellabunny123 @sunnexaltation @coolrobloxkid28 @cheshirecat484 @capan-deveraux2 @rebelmarylou

[cleolinda]

Weekend links, April 7, 2024

My posts

This week feels like it has been a hundred years long (not in a bad way). 

Somehow we joined together to balance the seesaw just right so Ava Gardner and Jean Seberg could both go through in the Hot Vintage Lady polls (percentages rounded). Like, I’m wearing the Ava jersey and even I encouraged people to vote Jean when necessary. Honestly, I just wanted to see if it could be done. And it COULD. 

Round three has begun. It is already horrific. This is the first round that’s really going to hurt because we spent the last one really getting down in the dirt and championing our ladies, or learning about actresses we’d never heard of before and getting attached to them. And now? We are reminded: memento mori. Everyone loses but one. 

(I personally pitched in for Sara Montiel. “BUT JUST LOOK AT--” Yeah, I did, thanks.)

Reblogs of interest

April Fool’s Day: You were here for the Boopening, yes? The whole thing was that you only got badges for giving boops, not receiving them, which is a great way to not reward popularity contests, but also means that every last one of us was out here trying to figure out who to bap with a cat’s paw 1000 times. I said, listen, my notifications are already trash garbage today. I’ll take the bullet. Boop at will.

The Activity graph isn’t too clear on this point, but it looks like I had something like 65,000--hits? engagements? boops?--that day. Listen, I got the black paw badge too. We all did what we had to do in the Boopening. 

A Shakespearean boop of goodly length: “And, Meowntague, come you this afternoon, to know our further pleasure in this case, to old Food-bowl, our common judgment-place.” 

I had to go lie down awhile after a pun like “The Purrge.”

--

I had just gotten up from that pun and then I had to go lie down again.

Account security gothic

The Canada griffin

Dinotopia nostalgia

Two pairs of spectacles, one made from slices of emerald, and the other from slices of diamond

An old favorite: Cerberus as a puppy, guarding the gates to heck

I feel like these two posts have the same energy: Time cops will not let you travel back to the Titanic and bloodthirsty gazebos are currently in a dormancy period.

The birds are still troubled

PSA: The best sunscreens for your face

Video

A collection of various American Indian/indigenous American languages, including Navajo, Tlingit, Lakota, Colville Okanagan Salish, Cherokee, Yucatec Maya, Greenlandic, Mohawk, Yup'ik, and Mi'kmawi'simk. 

A trans health-and-wellness fundraiser (Mercury Stardust, Point of Pride, and friends) kept getting banned off Tiktok due to assholes. Here’s how to donate; I saw a few “here’s how they helped me” notes, so it seems like these programs are both legit and effective. 

You think you’re going to sit staring at this video because Chocolate Guy is weaving chocolate. Then you get into it, and it just keeps going.

“Too Sweet” is doing hilariously well on the charts for a song that didn’t even make the album proper. Hozier’s bees would like to thank you for your support.

I know I said that Stevie Nicks would make you sing backup on your own haunting, but late in this 1997 live performance of “Silver Springs,” she makes Lindsey Buckingham, the man she wrote this song about, look her in the eye while she belts it at him. This specific performance was released as a single (I was there, Gandalf) and nominated for a Grammy. Watch the video and you will see why.

The Women Those ‘Evolution Of Beauty’ Videos Leave Out

I don’t really know how to describe this rubberhose-style cartoon of Cab Calloway as a singing nightmare clown. Betty Boop is also there. “You just described it!” No, I really didn’t. 

How movable type worked 1000 years ago, from scratch.

Unrestrained seasonal yak fun

A snowy raven photoshoot

The sacred texts

I don’t know how to explain this double Sacred Text about ominous dreams that comes with its own comic, except to say that they’re so iconic that I first saw both posts in lo-res Pinterest screencaps.

April Fool’s: The ultimate sacred text.

Personal tag of the week

Wet beast Wednesday, which had both a headshake stickflip and bears on a swan boat.

[forfluxsake]

a personal slash solitary blog where i publish my doodles, have hobbies, and do anything typical of the average person

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before i write anything else, i’m promoting my utmv (undertale multiverse) server. JOIN PARTYCHROMA TODAY! FOREVER LINK: https://discord.gg/sATaZ8WZDh

if you aren’t sensitive to bold text, fonts, weird symbols, and eyestrainy gradient rainbow themes, join partychroma. it’s a neverending party for people who’re into undertale or deltarune aus and the like. it’s quiet for the time being, which is why i’m hoping people find this post

we are welcoming of anybody who’s willing to have a good time. the server provides funny roleplay channels, a place to showcase your creations, roles, incredible people, and more. i put effort into it and stuff so that’s great

…a better, less half-hearted advertisement can be found on disboard. hope to see you there!

about me

if you’re wondering who i am, hi

i’m flux.

i am a male and i use he/him/she/her pronouns. that’s all you need to know to respect my existence. if you have any questions direct them to the asks feature i just enabled

what do i like doing? doodling, writing, listening to some funky tunes; learning… i’m not picky about creative activities, but i do tend to procrastinate. my hyperfixations are seasonal and i suffer from being unable to let go of past phases. the list of my interests is infinite. if you care, i enjoy a variety of indie rpgs, object shows, args slash creepypastas, webcomics, and television shows.

cartoon series pique my interest the most.

boundaries

(be my friend)

i’m a minor. this much information is self explanatory as to how you should approach me. obviously don’t interact with me if you are a nsfw age-restricted page, but also don’t attempt to send me weird asks

i don’t talk about politics.

i think being friends with me requires a lot of patience. sure, you may friend me on my discord, o5fo, but understand that i’m terrible at one on one conversation. if you don’t get straight to the point, i will most likely not respond.

preferably keep contact with me through our shared communities or mutual servers and not direct messages.

if i’ve crossed a line, i encourage people to express their discomfort. nothing is gained from radio silence. (it’s not like i’m not anxious as well LOL don’t be shy to contact me [on dis] if it’s important)

what to expect

this blog is sfw, though it’s prone to having violent and dangerous content, mostly because i’ve drawn a fair amount of works with blood or upsetting themes. be wary of who you follow, always, and take steps to protect yourself online. take advantage of the filter tool to block tags that trigger you.

i will occasionally open art requests. but i won’t do too many at a time.

i might touch on some uncomfortable topics while i’m maintaining this nostalgia-seeking blog, especially about past controversies in the communities i was in since i was a child. and depending on the post, i will treat the flaws in said communities seriously or jokingly. please do not take it the wrong way if i redraw those memories.

assume everything i say is light-hearted for the sake of everybody; spare yourself the trouble of thinking i’m trying to invalidate people’s experiences. i never want to come off that way

fanart. expect a handful of art in general. uncolored/whiteboard doodles are abundant. i have ocs- but i’m anything but organized.

that’s a wrap

i wasn’t prepared to end this post

[lolos-interests]

Hi, I have 50 fics in progress at the same time and can't stop switching between them at the toss of a hat. The last few posts were about Transformers ideas but now my periscope is looking at Batman and related dc media.

I thought this would be easy, the hell was I thinking?

For context; I used to write a lot more actively 10 years ago and one of my first posted fics was a Young Justice-Superboy x oc fic. It's one of those fics I look back on with nostalgia but still cringe; I've wanted to rewrite this fic and did... in my head, twice. This is where my dilemma kicks in; I can't decide which one to focus on. I'll probably write both since they are very different and logically I should focus on the one I have a skeleton plan for, right? But my sleep-deprived brain is latched onto the other story to gush over the main pairing which is also canon x oc.

Story headcanons under the cut

YJ Superboy x Self-insert OC

I have this set between the many months time skip between S1E09 and E10, I’m also not a fan of M’gann as a character so I headcanon that Connor is still uncomfortable with anyone in his head but pushes those feelings down for the team.

Still debating whether my oc will be based on a Rogue from DnD or a Spidersona, Rogue will be on a pilgrimage and Spider just wants to go home. Either way; oc stops by Gotham to get something but Batman and Robin bust her. Robin being the little shit he is made a deal with oc to help get what she needs for community service, she did commit a crime.

OC also has anger issues but she walks away from fights where Superboy seems ready to engage every time he’s angry. I imagine they don’t get along well at first with his trust issues and her not telling the full truth; maybe Connor follows her while angrily asking questions as she ignores him.

Then she gets angrier and poofs away to leave Connor choking on smoke.

However, they need to work together before their first mission so there’s some team bonding, the team learning about oc and vice versa; there’s a plot point in this conversation I need to construct a little better because it’s not meant to be obvious unless you guess certain motives.

After a stern talking to from Aqualad, they apologize and spar; Superboy is a tank ready to take hits as well as he gives them but Oc is more of an opportunist searching for the best chance to deal a solid blow to do as much damage as possible. They smile as the spar turns into cat and mouse, who’s gonna catch who first?

Aqualad x Red Lantern FC [i fucking love them so much]

Red Lantern, Rosetta Stewart, is the off-planet daughter of John Stewart; she was given a human identity and joined the team with with Miss Martian. Although her rage keeps her alive[powers more similar to the comics] she’s working with Canary to control herself better like Superboy.

Her relationship with the team starts strained but they see her efforts; then they lose 6 months of memory so imagine their shocked faces when she confesses her council framed her for murdering them and she swears across the universe she didn’t. She brought Aqualad to water as the team dealt with Queen Bee and the metahuman, coming back with Aqualad in time to help the team.

Rose is more of a support class with the team, using her constructs to aide her teammates and flight to zip across the battlefield; when she’s solo she’s a powerhouse ready to wreak absolute havoc with no restraint[except killing].

Aqualad found himself an aquatic moth to her flame, her fighting, her passion, her aggressive care; he craved it and he melted every time Rose took steps to make sure she wasn’t running too hot for him and M’gann.

He brought her to Atlantis for when she asked for ‘the Atlantean cultural experience’ and she offered to show him the stars; he’s not big on being so far from water but a few hours in space won’t hurt.

Then a mission goes horribly wrong and Kaldur, Rose, Connor, and M’gann are transported to the JLU universe; John sees Rose’s Red Lantern symbol and gets aggressive but she just grabs her team and crashes through the Watchtower glass. Forcing the Justice League to lag behind and secure the base; Rose gets Connor in the sun, Kaldur in the water, and M’gann in the shade before passing out.

[suedesongs]

These Are The Suede Songs 002: Be My God/Art

The first dedicated post of this project, and the de facto first Suede single. Only 500 copies were produced, and the majority of these were destroyed, as the band weren’t at all happy with the result.

In fact, According to Dave Thompson, Justine Frischmann recalls keeping one copy for nostalgia’s sake. One side had “Fuck Fuck” written on it, and the other, “Double fuck”. It’s not hard to see why they might have disliked the overall result, but to destroy the majority of available copies seems slightly extreme, when you consider that these might be the first Suede songs that are actually…good? 

Be My God/Art was recorded on RML, barely a label, and one that has absolutely no online trail. Mat Osman remembers it was the endeavor of a well-to-do schoolmate down in Haywards Heath who most likely had some money to throw around, and so financed bands at his rural studio. This was most likely Curtis Shwartz, who shared some photos of this session to his Instagram in 2020. Apparently, Brett was most diligent with tea-making. Videos of these sessions are also briefly featured in the BBC Rock Family Trees: The Birth of Cool Brittania documentary from 2022, which is available on YouTube and highly recommended! 

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Curtis Schwartz (@curtisschwartz)

Gone is the drum machine for these sessions, and up to the drum kit strode midlander Justin Welch, later the drummer for Elastica, and more recently of Aircooled, who were given a support slot on the Scottish dates of Suede’s 2023 Autofiction tour. Brett Anderson recalls Justin playing ferociously, and driving even more so, almost killing them by spinning out his car on Bethnal Green Road on one occasion. He has clearly been forgiven, as eagle-eyed fans will spot he’s been driving for Suede on their last couple of tours. 

Welch’s tenure with Suede was to be short-lived. As drummers tend to be, he was in several other bands, and left amicably to join Crawley outfit Spitfire. 

‘Art’ is quite a nice, groovy track. Anderson’s vocals begin to show confidence and, and there’s a certain snarl he’s adopted by this point. It’s an entertaining, catchy listen. Still erring into baggy at points, there’s a little more edge this time around, even if the lyrics remain rather empty. 

I do, genuinely, seek this track out sometimes, when I’m on the bus, or sitting at my desk at work. It’s the first Suede song that could really be described as danceable. My main gripe with this one, however, is those vari-sped vocals. This, as any Suede fan knows, isn’t the first time they’d make this mistake. 

‘Be My God’ on the other hand, is slow, and again the baggy influences are stronger, but this time, it’s actually good. This feels like everything Natural Born Servant should have been. 

This song is often mislabelled on bootlegs as “C’mon C’mon C’mon” due to the repeated refrain, and it’s probably the first Suede track that can be considered…sexy. Anderson breathing “c’mon, have me” is undeniably sensual; an auditory come-hither. The BDSM imagery is less restrained, too, as he pants “I’ll be your dog/be my god”. Despite it hinting at becoming Venus In Furs at any moment, it’s sadly a bit too slow, plodding and musically simplistic to fulfill this wholly, and it still suffers from the virginal feeling of other earlier tracks. Dave Thompson describes this as “a ‘your place or mine’ invitation that slid sex back into the warped equation of “drugs and rock and roll”, which is a fantastic description, though I feel this does, unfortunately, lack all three key elements of sex, drugs and rock and roll.

[sagespirit-wc]

hii u can call me sage or aspen. i’m 22 and this is my wc side blog (my main is thelittlefrogblog if u wanna see silly stuff i post there)

some things i’m currently working on + what they will entail, just in case you’re interested:

full disclosure i’m a full time student and my obsession w warriors goes on and off so the progress may be slow/nonexistent at times

my first warriors fanfic piece is in progress. it’s called Oh Starclan, Not Again (much like oh god not again the hp fic) in which starclan makes firestar go back in time before he joins after his death cause they’re a bag of dicks and he’s the cat jesus. i think it’s fun and silly. it’s on AO3 under my pseud sagespirit currently.

my second idea was based on an idea moonkitti mentioned in one of their vids - they mentioned they wanted to see the next warriors series based far off in the future and that sounded dope so i made an au type thing based far in the warrior future. it includes a big old prophecy, a bunch of lesbian medicine cats, and prophecy cats including queens and full grown cats alongside two cute warrior apprentices who will fall in love (and not die or become toxic) so watch out for that. it will be very selfish

and ofc you can’t write warriors fanfic if you don’t rewrite the series so that’s my plan for my third project - it’ll be essentially the same plot as the og but i will change things that made me mad and more selfish choices, such as:

lionblaze is no longer boring and is now the himboist of himbos to ever himbo

hollyleaf is gay (probably for cinder)

names that i think are dumb will be changed (mostly nostalgia-fueled, sorry)

bramble will not be an abusive piece of shit and will actually be a dope husband and father

he will also die/retire earlier cause i want him to

firestar doesn’t have a thing for spottedleaf and loves his wife sandstorm and only his wife sandstorm

they also have more kits than squirrel and leaf cause i think fire would love being a dad

jay is slightly less of a little shit - still sarcastic but his heart is less frozen and his bitterness comes from his love and fear of losing those he loves

when they change the code they will also change the whole med cats not having mates/kits thing cause it’s dumb

starclan ISNT a huge bag of dicks

more death/less useless background characters

useless background characters get personalities

women aren’t vilified for no reason other than for the hatred of women

and more to be determined - those are just what i know so far i want to change

AND 2024 update - my tumblr friends and i started a very casual warriors rp !! dm me if you’d like to join. it’s 18+ just for safety but it’s super chill and lowkey and a lot of the people in it aren’t in the fandom they’re just there cause they love me. it’s called pineclan and we’re making up our own religion lore !!!

so yeah hope that excites anyone at all and if it doesn’t too bad i’m still going to keep writing it. if it does excite you and you have more ideas feel free to let me know and i just might include them!!

[agentsterling]

[It’s that time again, ladies and gentlemen! SHIELD KARAOKE NIGHT! Let’s party like it’s 2012!]

Brief Recap: The Location? The Blue Roof Bar. The Bartender? Joey Laroe. He was used to hosting the weirdly wild crew years ago but when suddenly they stopped showing up after all SHIELD’s files were leaked, he finally pieced things together. Now, after being in the dark for so long, he got a call out of the blue from an old patron, asking for another night of drunken fun. He was happy to oblige.

SHIELD was rebuilding again. Some underground. Some finally crawling out into more open bases. Some rebuilding the ruins of the past bases they once knew. Some moving on with their lives without SHIELD.

It was hard seeing SHIELD like this, but Sterling felt perhaps what they needed was a reminder of the old days. Nostalgia. Fun. Team building togetherness.

With booze, of course.

[After the intro announcement [THIS] The event has begun! But Sterling-mun? What do I post? How do I participate?

I’m glad you asked.

How to Have Your Character Sing a Song: Post a video [with lyrics if you can find it] or audio of a song you want your character to sing. Or, you could just post the lyrics to a song. Maybe they are getting a little drunk. Maybe they start getting the words wrong. Have fun with it!

And don’t forget gifs and icons if you have them!

You can comment on each other’s songs too to encourage them, join in for a duet, boo them off the stage [be nice], or whatever you want in terms of interacting with their performance.

Don’t want to sing? Between songs? Just showed up to put it all on youtube or for blackmail?: Make little starter posts set in the bar for others attending the event. It’s just a big party. Any SHIELD agent can join in. But make sure you tag it “SHIELD Karaoke Night” and “Open” for us all to know where it’s taking place, when, and letting others know it’s open for commenting. They can be watching the shenanigans, doing shots, taking a smoke break outside, whatever you want.

Protocol: In the old days Fury instituted a 3 drink maximum for all agents. We will be going back to these protocols [but let’s be real, no one but Sterling is going to follow it]. Please make sure you do not kill anyone, including yourselves, and no weapons should be drawn unless it is an emergency. I will not be cleaning up after you.

There really are no rules. It’s very casual. Don’t stress about getting anything right or wrong. It’s just providing a setting and a time for SHIELD agent rpers to have their characters all unwind together. Keep track of other people posting in it so you can comment on what song they sang or how drunk they’re getting. Name drop. It’s fun and everyone loves when their character is mentioned in a thread they aren’t in. Especially if they just sang something and you’re commenting on their performance. Do it.

The NPC: Joey Laroe is an NPC and you can take him over for your interactions if you would like. Or, if you want me to play him [because I like playing him so I don’t mind] just tag me in and I’ll pop in for a moment to be him for you.

Help: If you have any questions or you don’t understand, please track the tag “shield karaoke night” and see what we did the last time. If you STILL have questions, please do not hesitate to ask me, @agentsterling​.

This event is for SHIELD PERSONNEL ONLY unless you are invited by a SHIELD agent. Or crashing it. I have no problem with the event being crashed, just know what you’re getting yourself into by doing so.]

[radical-h03]

I can barely see

the blue sky above the city buildings

that used to feel like daffodil trees

drowning us in unknowing,

enthusiasm and passion.

Coming from our small towns as

Former Gifted Kids,

told by adults

that we were wasting our potential—

but we were so excited to be starving artists!

I stare up at the universe engulfing me,

suffocating in my smallness

and the omniscience of the world around me.

Not the world as in the earth or the dirt—

but the world like the lives of the people

and the creatures that fill the void

of empty matter that extends above the ground,

continuing on in synchronicity

like a clock and its tick.

I want to feel like more than a blip

on the radar of history.

I try to harmonize with the city around me.

I force ecstasy down my own throat,

choking on my inability

to feel anything but apathy or anxiety.

Rising like nausea, a half-felt nostalgia

for old feelings of euphoria;

for the feeling of soft, cotton movement;

of being wrapped in the world,

rushes through its wind and

amalgamates my body with the colors of the city.

Like a kaleidoscope of comfort,

there’s an everlasting love

for the people pushing past me,

joining me in this dance of feeling a part of something;

being our own movement.

Our energy shone iridescent

with all the other Former Gifted Kids

who thought they’d be the next

Salinger,

di Prima,

Kerouac or Kesey,

writing poems with our friends

on a bus across the country.

We all thought we’d be a part of something,

somewhere,

some day.

Instead we’re just Former Gifted Kids—

almost 30 years old

with AP scores that no longer mean a thing.

Now we live in an ever-lasting hour of

disassociation,

dragging,

the discontinuation of a dream.

We thought we were so profound and mysterious

living in Manhattan

on the 31st floor in a fancy apartment.

Slowly realizing that being a starving artist isn’t so fun—

it actually does come along with the starving,

the anxiety, the misery,

depression and the drugs.

Picasso was schizophrenic

and he made some famous art,

but cutting off your left ear

doesn’t feel nearly as cool as it sounds

in books.

This isn’t the type of art

we thought we wanted.

The energy and power that

we felt when we first started

keeps waning.

We try to remind ourselves that our idols

only Made It post-mortem.

There’s a whole generation

living in desperation;

Former Gifted Kids grasping at our pasts.

Now I don’t know how to do things

like study or problem solve

or call my doctor’s office

or make any phone call, really.

I have issue avoidance problems because

I never had to solve any I didn’t understand

so now I ignore anything with the subtle smell of failure.

I can’t take any criticism.

I suffer from rejection dysphoria

and struggle with perfectionism.

You’d think all of the attention, awards, and admiration

would have solidified the foundation

of my own self-confidence,

but instead I’m a vampire,

a soul-sucker

seeking validation.

The astronomy of the city

used to energize me.

I was celestial.

Infinite.

Ethereal and unstoppable

under the vault of heaven;

perpetual.

Now I just feel tiny

in this whirlwind metropolis.

I never did succeed

in becoming a starving artist.

I’m just one of many

Former Gifted Kids

who were trampled by this city

while we choked on the stardust of our dreams.

[juniperjane]

On Consuming Media

I’ve been seeing so many posts about people longing for the days when TV show episodes were released once a week, how we used to be able to enjoy a show without the stress of “missing out” on the conversation. You would watch an episode, the next day sitting around with your friends or family completely enraptured by what just happened, discussing everything that happened from the overarching plot to the finest details, throwing back and forth ideas of what will happen in the next week’s episode.

We would have seasons with 30-45 minute episodes, 20+ episodes a season, all rich with story and character development. Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like there was less to watch as well. Most likely because we only had three major channels on free-to-air TV that showed a good majority of the popular culture, and it was a battle between them to gain your viewership. But even if times didn’t overlap and you enjoyed multiple shows, it didn’t feel overwhelming. Sure, we had to sit through advertisements which took up a lot of a channel’s viewing time, but there is fun in that little bit of nostalgia too; running for the bathroom or snacks, trying to make it back before the show began again.

And there was excitement for the show. With the pacing being an episode a night or week depending on what you were watching, you had time to be excited for something to come out. Again, this may be just me, but with the posts I’ve been seeing circulating, I figure it’s not. Nowadays, I’m excited for things to come out, but it’s overshadowed by the dread of knowing I will have to binge the series, something I have very little time to do, just so I don’t miss out on the wave of everyone talking about it, before the next new thing comes out.

Before you say, “but Jane, you can watch it at your own pace, you don’t have to keep up with everyone else!”, I know this. But, despite that size of the community, we all love to be a part of something where we can share enjoyment with one another, on most levels of our lives. Even something like sitting down to share a meal, the context of “I made this, not just for myself, but to share, please join me and take part.” We are social creatures and, I feel, especially when it comes to our leisure time, it’s nice to share and inspire others with the things we enjoy.

Please don’t misunderstand me, I’m not judging anyone for binge-watching or reading. I love having something that holds my attention and wanting to read or watch things all the way through in a sitting when I’m able. The excitement is real and it’s fun to be able to talk to people about things in real time. But I feel like, because the way everything is a hustle and a grind, it’s just expected that even our hobbies and entertainment have to all be consumed this way. I remember reading books like Harry Potter, getting through it in one sitting and then screaming with my friends about it who did the same the following day. But there were also books that I took my time with, reading at my own pace and just savouring, enjoying it in little bits. There was time, and breathing room, even with reading a book over the course of one day.

With content coming out so rapidly, and so much at once, it’s so hard to keep up and makes leisure a chore. We’re all responsible for ourselves and what we choose to do with our time and money, but we cannot deny that media and advertising do have a great affect on our choices. Even down to how we consume; audiobooks, e-books, physical. Hardbacks or paperbacks. An aesthetic library that looks wonderful but maybe, deep down a lot of the books I don’t actually want to read, but bought because I wanted to be a part of the community, having people to engage with.

My main point it, I think we miss out on more when things are so fast-paced, than when things were slower. Maybe being bookish isn’t having a giant library where I’m in debt because I need to have every book that’s on trend to keep up and be relevant. Maybe it’s just having your favourites that you read over and over, a few new books thrown in that take your interest. Maybe it’s a mixture of physical books, e-books, audiobooks. Maybe it’s only older books, or only newer books. Maybe the community we need to be invested in is something a little smaller, like book clubs of old. Whatever fits into your lifestyle, not something unrealistic.

[l1ttles3am0th]

UPDATE - I saw the movie.

Just a forewarning, I do get a bit sappy here. I tried to keep it as spoiler-free as possible, so you should be good. I posted this text on Letterboxd and Reddit as well.

I saw the movie, and… it was beautiful. It was an actual, GENUINE work of *ART.* I cried my eyes out from the end from a mix of nostalgia and realizing that I made it long enough for the FNaF movie to actually be real and for me to see it. This franchise got me through actual Hell, and this felt like a payoff to that. To finally see the movie I’ve been waiting for for 8 years brought a tear to my eye. I was yelling in joy, oohing with the rest of the fans in the audience, cheered with everyone else when certain things happened, screamed at some cameos, and more. Much more. FNaF is my special interest and has been since I first joined the fandom in 2014, and to finally see the movie I waited for since the beginning was actual, genuine heaven. I won’t spoil the surprises, but you will know when you’ve seen them. All of these scenes will hold a special place in my heart, and so will this franchise. Everything I saved myself for has all led up to this, and I’m genuinely grateful that I managed to live to see it. My dad agreed to get me Peacock to watch it over and over again, but once the rest of you guys have watched it, I’d like to go on an infodump. A HUGE one at that. I don’t quite have the energy nor motivation to draw, but when I do, it’s probably gonna be scenarios in my AU where the characters watch and react to it in the theatre. They will get to experience the joy I did then no matter what.

[papillon82fluttersby]

Famous Five Art Nostalgia #08 – Part 3

Introductory post

Masterpost

🚲🦉🚪 Five Get into Trouble – Le Club des Cinq en péril

Original publication date: 1949 (UK), 1957 (France)

(Original cover by Simone Baudouin, 1957)

After an incredible bit of luck, I was able to obtain an original copy of this book from 1957! I can now attest that it does contain a full set of illustrations by Simone Baudouin, although these ones are all black and white; the colour illustrations must have come in later editions. Keep on reading and feast your eyes on this rare art!

~~~~~~

Plot summary (adapted from Wikipedia):

Siblings Julian, Dick and Anne are spending the Easter school holidays at Kirrin Cottage with their cousin Georgina and her dog, Timmy. After George's parents, Quentin and Fanny, depart for some scientific conferences, the Five embark on a cycling and camping holiday.

(The Five make a halt in a village and enjoy a nice treat of lemonade and ice cream)

[Note 1: Ginger-beer is unknown to France, so lemonade it is!]

[Note 2: Please do NOT give ice cream to your dog or other pets – I’m sure it’s not good for them!]

At a lake, they encounter a boy named Richard Kent, who wants to spend the day cycling with them. He promises to stay at his aunt's house at the end of the day, if his mother gives him permission. The children agree, and Richard joins them without bothering to request parental permission. Richard is later chased by a car driven by Rooky, one of his wealthy father's former bodyguards, who was fired because Richard had told tales about him. Rooky's associates chase Richard on foot in Middlecombe Woods, where they mistake Dick for Richard and kidnap him.

(From her hiding place in a tree, Anne witnesses her brother being kidnapped! 😱)

Richard finds Julian and George, who berate him for his mendacity and cowardice. The children trace Dick to Owl's Dene, and on the way Julian observes a man changing clothes and another man throwing clothes down a well.

At Owl's Dene, the children sneak into the house but are caught and imprisoned, while Timmy remains outside.

(Sneaking into the house! That... seems to be a very uncomfortable position!)

That night, Julian finds Dick locked in an upstairs room and discovers a secret room with a man sleeping in it.

(Peeping Julian! What can he possibly be seeing behind this door? 🙈)

The next morning, Rooky arrives and sees his associates have kidnapped the wrong boy. The Five and Richard are nearly freed, but Richard is recognised and they are imprisoned in the grounds of the house.

(Julian collects the bribe money that the children were given as an incentive to keep silent about the suspicious goings-on occuring at Owl’s Dene; instead of keeping the money, Julian gives to Aggie the cook, the only person who was genuinely kind to them and seems forced to work in this sorry place)

(While on the grounds, the Five get really interested in the villains’ car as a means to escape)

When one of the gang members leaves in their car, Richard hides in the boot, narrowly escapes being recaptured and then goes to the police.

(A narrow escape for Richard!)

When the police arrive at Owl's Dene, Julian shows them the secret room containing an escaped convict and stolen diamonds.

(Here comes the cavalry the police, just in time to arrest the escaped convict and recover the stolen diamonds)

The Five later join Richard for a meal and praise his heroism.

~~~~~~

Bonus: Please enjoy these sleeping burritos!

~~~~~~

Thanks for reading!