#bingo 2021

[raystarkitty]

🪐 Sleepytime! 🌍

[suckishima]

okay this is so small but makes me really happy. taketora just got done talking about how much he admires tanaka and how cool and "manly" he is, which like makes sense right, both tanaka and taketora are always being shown as these like loud "boy's boys" archetypes who do everything with power, talk about girls, and emphasize "guts" and "manliness," so obviously taketora would respect tanaka

but then he immediately turns to also think about how much he admires fukunaga in the same way—fukunaga who doesn't display any of those same qualities that taketora was just admiring about tanaka. fukunaga is quiet, fairly low-key and doesn't flaunt anything ever. dude just goes around making weird puns that 1 people often barely even hear and 2 apparently seem to baffle everyone. but taketora sees all of that and sees how fukunaga still shows up and gets the job done more than successfully—he's one of the top point getters on the team—and taketora respects him for all of that, still calls him a "man's man" and tbh more than respects him, he admires him and sees him as a rival

and idk that just makes me happy, like 1 it's a nice small way of furudate saying that yeah "manly" is a thing that's important to taketora but it doesn't just mean one stereotypical thing—like it's showing that taketora isn't as one dimensional as we would have thought and that he sees things from multiple perspectives (we also saw this from him back during the whole "guts" thing with kenma and how he respects him too)—and it's also an example of seeing fukunaga from another perspective too. it's because he's so low-key that even we as readers have probably barely noticed how much of a rock he is for the team, but if you got back through their matches you can see how often he does score—he's quiet but he's always there. and i just like that furudate takes a moment to not only acknowledge fukunaga but to do it from taketora's pov in order to really hit it home to us how true it must be

[khaoray]

@kdramaspace YEAR IN REVIEW 2023 | Best Picture @asiandramanet december bingo: colour

favourite dramas of 2023

[haveyouseenthishorrormovie]

SUMMARY: In the barrio of Oak Springs live a strong and stubborn group of elderly friends who refuse to be gentrified. Their leader, Lupita, keeps them together as a community and family. However, their beloved bingo hall is about to be sold to a much more powerful force than money itself.

[bleachbleachbleach]

"This fight isn't over yet, Captain No-Hair."

I've gone on record about enjoying when the Viz translation goes off-book, and I maintain that "WHAT IN THE WIDE WORLD OF SPORTS" is one of the best lines in the whole series. I think it's a fun way of bringing in the roughness of the speech in Japanese that doesn't necessarily have a direct translation in English. But I actually wish that liberty hadn't been taken in Ichigo's line here:

[Bleach 087]

In the Viz, Ichigo's line is, "This fight isn't over yet, Captain No-Hair." I'm not really sure why Ichigo decided to be Colorful right at that moment? Especially since the reference to "captain" is a bit confusing, given that 1) this series really does have captains, and 2) Ichigo doesn't really give a damn that this series has captains. Anyway, in the JP, I would translate the line, "Don't talk like this is already over."

And I really love that line, because "talk" is a repeated motif across their whole fight, and I feel like that line is a big part of why Ikkaku ends up liking Ichigo. The point of the line is that it's not a cheap taunt. Let me back up:

Ikkaku does his Lucky Dance and sings his Lucky Song, which he says was supposed to give Ichigo and Ganju time to run away. But Ichigo doesn't run, even though Ikkaku notes reiatsu-wise he outranks Ichigo. But Ichigo figures, if Ikkaku's really that much more powerful, he'd just run Ichigo down, anyway. If they fight, then they'll see.

Ikkaku asks for Ichigo's name, just in case. And says that "Ichigo" is a good name because names that start with "I" are good--like his, Ikkaku. (So begins them calling each other by their given names.) This is no longer some anonymous street brawl with a ryoka--it's Ikkaku vs. Ichigo.

Ikkaku quickly figures out that despite the fact that Ichigo is most definitely not a soldier he moves well, and he's been trained by someone. Once Ikkaku learns that Urahara was the one who trained Ichigo, he releases Houzukimaru's shikai, so he can kill Ichigo the right way.

That's when Ichigo says, [1] "Don't talk like this is already over." And I feel like Ikkaku really responded do that, because Ichigo kind of calls him on the grandstanding. Like, hey! Don't act like the fight's over when there's still fighting left to do. Stay in the moment! Take this seriously. Respect what we're doing here! Which seems like something Ikkaku probably lacks for in most rights, and would find really refreshing and invigorating in Ichigo.

It also jibes with Ikkaku ultimately not wanting to end the battle unless it ends in death--that is, not acting like that fight is over until it's over over (even if Ichigo ultimately backs off that particular idea).

When Ikkaku says [2] "Aren't you a big talker," he parallels Ichigo's own grammatical construction; they both use an adjective/adjectival phrase to describe a 口--mouth/way of talking. And Ikkaku keeps it up later, when he cajoles Ichigo, [3] asking if it's just his mouth that was skilled:

もう終わったみたいな口きくなよ (Don't talk like this is already over.)

上等な口をきくじゃねえか (Aren't you a big talker.)

威勢のいいのは口だけか？ (Are you all talk?) [even more liberal translation than usual; I couldn't get this to not sound dumb]

I feel like this whole extended "talking" motif is important because it's playing in parallel to the Soul Society Yumichika is simultaneously describing to Ganju, with the gladiator pits (like Ganju needed more convincing that shinigami were bananas). I have received the message loud and clear that I am in the minority when it comes to my interest in the gladiator pits, but too bad!! we're going to talk about them more!! The Pits are so important! They serve as foil to this Ikkaku-Ichigo sequence. They present one characterization of the Seireitei and Ikkaku another, with his styptics and his personality and his name and his intelligence in sizing Ichigo up, and his willingness to tease out what Ichigo's about.

And Ichigo gives Ikkaku just as much--it's immediately clear to Ikkaku that Ichigo is no criminal mastermind (though he is in kahoots with one, re: Urahara), nor is he some bloodthirsty hoodlum. And, importantly, he's no soldier.

In contrast to the lurid spectacle of the Pits, Ikkaku and Ichigo recognize each other's personhood--their training, their wisdom, their names, their senses of battle honor/procedure. And even if Yoruichi thinks Ichigo is bull-in-china-shopping this (and he is! a little! they got here via CANNON), he's a pretty smart bull. And so is Ikkaku--he knows what Ichigo is and isn't.

(I don't think Ikkaku ends up sharing any of this intel--or at least, any of the juicy bits--even though it's info I feel like at least half the people in this arc would have really appreciated. Especially since what flys around instead is "the ryoka beat IKKAKU" which surely did not lend itself to an atmosphere of measured calm lololol. But hey, Ikkaku's here for the smiles per gallon, not the Sake of the Seireitei.)

[xinutilisx]

Für "Sisi" Staffel 3 habe ich ein Bingo erstellt. Vielleicht möchte es jemand von Euch nutzen wenn demnächst die neue Staffel startet.

@sisionscreen

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

ANSWER: The Night Comes for Us

[laurfilijames]

Love and Hate

Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Ryder Harrison x female reader

Words: 3,312

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Unprotected intercourse. Slight asphyxiation. Oral sex (F receiving).

Summary: Ryder shows up at your house as promised, finding you in the shower wet and waiting.

A/N: I know, I know, but I can't stop with him okay? This is filth and I love it.

Prompts used for @deanobingo were Shower Sex and "come with me".

---

The noise from the shower and the fan pulling out the humid air usually drowned out any other sound, but as you let the water rain over your head, you couldn't mistake the boisterous rumble of Ryder's hog idling outside in your driveway.

Water slipped into your mouth as your lips stretched into a smile, the excitement of him staying true to his promise bubbling furiously in your stomach, your skin tingling with nerves as you waited for him to let himself into your house like he owned the place and inevitably took claim over you.

It was exhilarating, listening to the faint sound of the door you had left unlocked opening, his heavy footsteps treading through your house only to pause in trying to find you.

You held your breath, feeling half tempted to run or hide as if he was some sort of criminal breaking in to have his way with you, only it was almost completely true.

The shower curtain tore open quickly, making you jump and let out a strangled scream, greeted by Ryder’s amused face staring back at you.

“Boo,” he smirked, his eyes traveling down your wet, naked form, chuckling darkly as you moved away from him to plant your back against the tiled wall, the instinctive reaction a tell to your fear.

Taking it as an invitation to join you, Ryder made quick work of discarding his clothes carelessly on your bathroom floor; his vest, shirt, chaps and jeans all landing to mix with yours in a heap of deranged, unconventional domestication.

He stepped past the threshold of the shower, his hand reaching up to clasp your chin gently, his head tipping to the side as he looked over your features.

“Hey, it's okay, you know I won't hurt you,” he cooed, the softness of his tone unfitting on such a brute, and you let your eyes close at his words, relaxing into his touch and the feel of his lips on your cheek as he peppered it with kisses.

You all but melted against him, indulging in the sweet ways he met your skin with his lips like a lover would, letting your head lull to grant him more access where he kissed and sucked until you were delirious with pleasure.

"Why did you leave it unlocked for me?"

The question made your eyes blink open, making you wonder for the first time yourself why you actually did, all while knowing the reason subconsciously.

You shrugged and leaned your head back against the shower wall, causing him to stop the too-intimate worship brought on by his lips and look at you.

"I guess I figured you would've broken the door down if I hadn't."

He chuckled and tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, "Yeah, you're fucking right," he confirmed, pressing his damp, hot body closer against yours.

There would be no escaping him or making any sort of exit with the way his large frame blocked and shielded you, you thought, even if for some reason you wished to get away.

The realization made you swallow, and as your breath came out shaky, you smoothed your hands up his torso to his chest and cradled his face, bringing your lips to his where you forced your tongue in his beguiling mouth, whisking that scenario away with each swipe with his.

Ryder's left hand slipped down the right side of your waist, causing you to jolt to the opposite side, only to be met with the other that forced you in place.

Arousal and nerves made your nipples grow taut on your chest when you felt his fingers wrap around your delicate wrists that were kept locked at your side, capturing them securely to pull them up to rest above your head.

He hummed as you stared at him wide-eyed, scared as to what he could so easily do to you, his satisfaction in having such power evident in the glint in his eyes.

"Have you washed me off yet?" he murmured, his lips hovering close to your face, his eyes heavy-lidded as he looked from your parted mouth to your eyes, and then down your body where he followed the trail of water cascading down your chest.

You shook your head 'no', watching as his smile grew into something prideful.

"Filthy, little slut," he hissed, his mouth diving into the crook of your neck where his goatee scratched your skin and his teeth scraped at your pulse. The combination of that and his bawdy pet name for you made your nipples harden even more and almost painfully, and you gasped out a breath, suddenly feeling equally hypersensitive to every caress of both the water and Ryder.

Like he knew every tell of your body as well as a dedicated lover would, he traveled down the crest of your breasts, sucking each of your nipples in turn harshly, the lack of fragility in his actions making you arch off the shower wall and into him further, forcing him to tighten his grip on your wrists to help keep you in planted where you were.

"You'll never get enough of me," he growled, gathering both of your wrists into one of his large hands so the other could roam freely down your body. "Always wanting more. Desperate to be fucked and filled up by me."

It was becoming impossible to deny it anymore, and rather than attempting to argue against it, you kept yourself quiet by biting your lip, fearing if you spoke you would simply agree with him.

Ryder continued assaulting your upper body with his mouth, and knowing he was leaving marks on you but not caring, you shut your eyes and indulged in the shameful bliss that he embodied, feeling his rigid cock press harder against you and hearing his breaths grow into laboured pants as he started to lose control alongside you.

You attempted to tug your arms free from his restraints, only to be warned in a dark and furious tone that made your stomach flip with more excitement.

"Don't. Fucking. Move."

You grinned, unable to help your delight in his sternness from spreading across the rest of your face.

"I promise you'll like what I have in mind…" you purred, pulling at his grip again, the movement making your tits bounce convincingly in his face.

With a huff, he released you, watching carefully as you reached for the bottle of body wash sitting on the ledge, flicking it open to dispense a generous amount into your palm.

You started by spreading it across your breasts, lathering the soap so that it enhanced the look of them even more, and slowly ran your hands down your torso to your core where you lingered to massage yourself for a moment.

Noting the dilation of his pupils, you exchanged touching your body for his instead, taking what soap remained in your hands to rub on his chest until frothy, white suds appeared in his coiled hairs.

You leaned closer to him, using your soapy boobs to continue to wash him while your hands sank lower between your bodies and gripped his throbbing cock, making Ryder hiss in agreement and tip his head back in euphoria.

"Fuck, baby," he praised, chuckling lowly as you slid against each other more fervently.

You turned around, sticking your ass out so his cock slid between your cheeks effortlessly, prompting him to take hold of your hips so he could make you glide along it more.

Your hands could barely get a grip on the tile, but you braced yourself as much as you could as Ryder slipped his cock through your folds and filled you in one swift motion, making your knees buckle at how damn good it felt. He supported your body, reaching his arms around you to not only hold you but to grab at your tits as well, one of his hands falling south to find your clit with his sudsy fingertips.

Water continued to rain down on you both as he pumped in and out of you furiously, the wet, squelching sounds created by your soaked, bubbly bodies helping to tip you to the edge.

His thumb and forefinger twisted your nipple, making your mouth hang open as you wailed out, drool and water dripping from your bottom lip as he proceeded to fuck you wildly.

You met his pace and tempo eagerly; each roll matching the slam and angle of his hips against your ass, the pressure he applied to your swollen bud making you whine uncontrollably.

Ryder worked hard; his grunts displaying his efforts as he sought to ruin you again and claim you for yet another time, and the thought of having him spill inside you at the same time you quaked around him had you shivering.

"Come with me, Ryder," you begged, hoping such a simple phrase would undo him like it did you.

About to topple of the edge, you ceased your movements in trying to delay your orgasm, waiting for him to pick up his pace and cum inside you. Much to your approval, your request worked, seemingly settling into that thick skull of his that was barely covered in hair, taking your body's cues that you were ready to climax with or without him.

Ryder shifted slightly, squatting partially to adjust the angle in which his head hit your g-spot, and proceeded to pummel you.

It seemed too intimate, the way he was making sure to give you all you needed, effectively stroking the very spot within you that had you crying and smacking the wall with an open palm, pleading an equal amount for mercy and more.

You squeezed him like a vice, at the cusp of succumbing to that treacherous high, when Ryder slid his slippery hand up between your breasts to take hold of your throat, closing around it with enough pressure to make you struggle to swallow.

"You need to wait if you want me to come with you, sweetheart," he grunted through clenched teeth, still bucking into you roughly as if he didn't want you to have a fighting chance.

"Ryder, please!" you cried, feeling his palm compress your windpipe even more and a panic rise up to your head to make you feel dizzy.

"Say it again," he demanded, leaning close to your ear.

Confusion set in. The combination of your imminent orgasm and his hand restricting your airway causing a sense of delirium to wash over you; the heat and steam from the water around you not helping.

You tried moving your hips again, unsure what kind of answer he wanted and trying to distract him by way of your slick, hot walls sliding on and off his cock, but to no use.

"Say it again!" he shouted, the volume making you jump, all while the hand between your legs moved faster on your clit and the other that held onto your neck pulled you back so you were leaning against his chest.

Being merciful and letting his hand fall from your throat down your chest, his fingers worked to end you; circling your clit almost painfully and twisting and tugging your nipple as he slapped into you harder and faster than you thought was possible, the barrage making your head fall limply onto his shoulder where it was jostled by his forceful fucking.

"I-I-..."

It felt impossible to speak, your words drowning in the sound of the water and your coherency blurred by the blinding rapture he was providing, but as Ryder pumped into you erratically and hit your g-spot dead on with every thrust, you clawed at his arms and finally screamed your truth.

"I love you, Ryder!"

He dared to laugh, but held onto you tightly like he never wanted you to part from him, seeing you through to your end at the same time he came deep inside your walls in violent spurts, his amusement fading into something more serious as he kissed and sucked at your neck; his whimpers and moans ringing in your ears to create the sweetest sounds you had ever heard.

"Yeah you fucking do," he panted, pulling out of you sooner than you hoped to spin you around to face him, your chin being clamped in his hand just as it had earlier so he could pull you into an intense kiss.

You had no time to react, gasping into his mouth as he impaled you again with his cock that remained hard for the time being, making you shudder in a second wave of your orgasm at the sensation of him forcing himself inside your cum-fillled walls.

Clawing at his back, you held onto him as you rocked against him through the unbelievable generosity of another climax, your lips pressing open-mouthed, sloppy kisses upon his shoulder.

"I love you," you whispered, quiet enough it was hardly audible over the noise of the shower, but not so much that it was lost on him.

He didn't laugh this time, only moved his hands up to hold you against him more, pushing your head into his chest where you worked to catch your breath.

After a moment, he softened and left you vacant, his hand slamming the shower off before he opened the curtain and stepped out, grabbing your towel like it was a natural occurrence to know where it hung; the cool air from the rest of the house bellowing in to make you shiver.

You followed suit, exiting the shower and retrieving a fresh towel from the cabinet beside the sink, drying yourself quickly before letting it fall to the floor.

You eyed his vest lying beside it, and boldly, you picked it up and shrugged it over your shoulders, letting your sopping hair drip down the embroidered Assassins logo without care.

Ryder smirked and pulled his lower lip in his teeth, his chest rising sharply while his pupils dilated at the sight of you.

"No one wears my vest," he warned, his eyebrows hooking upward to accentuate the lines on his forehead, but catching the subtle flex of his resting cock, you knew it held little conviction.

"Not anymore," you challenged, suddenly feeling bold and wanting to see what else you could bring out in him.

You looked past him into the mirror, turning side to side slowly in assessment of yourself before placing your hands on your hips where the panels of the vest laid against your arms, exposing your bare chest again.

His low growl was drowned out by your yelp of surprise when he lunged toward you, holding you close to him with a tight grip on his vest, making the hard leather dig into the supple skin around your upper arms.

"You're fucking lucky you look so good in it."

Letting out the breath you held in, you smiled sweetly and calmly looked up from his open lips to meet his intense gaze, the rush of arousal and adrenaline that flooded you making you feel wonderfully inebriated.

Unable to stop yourself, you crashed your mouth against his, demanding his tongue to circle with yours until he moaned loudly and allowed his hands to fall from his vest down to your hips where he messaged them gently.

Like wearing the stupid frock that represented everything you hated somehow grew your confidence, you found a steady voice - rare in his presence - and broke the desperation of your kiss to stare at him in his wickedly blue eyes.

"On your knees, Ryder."

Your heart threatened to burst from your chest as you waited for him to react to your order, watching as his eyes narrowed slightly and his head tipped curiously to the side, clearly amused by your demand.

His belly jolted when he chuckled, but to your surprise, Ryder slowly sank down to kneel before you; an eruption of goosebumps bursting over your skin in response to your victory.

Your jaw went slack when he immediately began to grope at your thighs and bum, his lips pressing against the warm skin around your core, alternating kisses and wet sucks that only added to the jittery sensation that afflicted you.

The cry you tried to stifle came out as a broken moan when Ryder swiped his tongue roughly through your folds, the pressure on your clit making you shudder as he flicked it expertly before diving back to drive his tongue in your channel.

He hummed approvingly as he ate at you, and knowing he was tasting the remnants of himself in your sweetness, your spine tingled with the thought and brought you back to the point where you couldn't help but start to chase that undeniable high again.

Your blurry reflection stared back at you in the mirror, the fog from the shower and your state of delirium making it hazy, but regardless of the poor visibility, you couldn't peel your eyes away from such a scene.

Never had you felt more powerful, watching as he worked eagerly to pleasure you, seeing such an egotistical, dominant man submit to you the most pornographic thing you had ever set eyes on.

A lazy smile dressed your lips, the woman staring back at you gratified at how easy it was to get what you wanted.

Your hands smoothed over his head before raking your nails across the bald sides of it, making him amp up his efforts, his tongue hitting just the right spot as you moved to grab the tuft of hair at the back of his skull and pushed him further into you where you ground your hips on his face crudely.

Ryder responded with more fervor, his moans growing into louder whimpers of satisfaction, and despite his cock throbbing almost painfully, his focus remained on you.

A crazed laugh escaped your parted lips as you started to come, delighted in having him on his knees to serve you, the power you felt flinging you into the throes of this heavenly bit of hell once again.

His mouth continued to execute its barrage as the numbing ecstasy forced you to pause the tempo of your hips while yours spilled accolades of love and praise that decorated his name, the scratching of his goatee on your sensitive flesh working with the smoothness of his tongue to wreck you completely.

Ryder stood before you even had the chance to recover from your orgasm, your heavily-lidded eyes catching sight of his wagging cock that dripped steadily with its pearly substance, your entire body feeling weak as he moved to stand behind you and guided you with a light push to lean forward against your vanity.

He parted your cheeks roughly before slamming into you, bottoming out deep inside before slapping against you hard enough you had to brace your arms as solidly as you could on the counter to keep you upright.

You knew he was seconds away from exploding, his engorged cock having already leaked excessively while he ate you out, and his reddened face scrunched up with effort, his teeth bared and clenched as he fucked you wildly.

It didn't prevent him from divulging what he really felt as he bucked and emptied himself inside you again, spittle flying from his lips as he admitted the same three words you found you now couldn't help yourself from saying to him.

He panted excessively as he fought to calm himself, his flaming eyes meeting yours in the mirror, a stronger connection than that of your bodies showing in the pools of deep blue.

The corner of your mouth lifted upward in a knowing grin, having caught Ryder in the very position he had tormented you over only moments ago.

He might be the King of this fucked up kingdom, but you were the Queen.

---

Taglist:

Everything: @guardianofrivendell @midearthwritings @cassiabaggins @lilith15000 @trishthedishofreis @linasofia @unbeatablecurlgirl @the-poldarkian @lathalea @enchantzz @blairsanne @legolaslovely @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @sketch-and-write-lover @jotink78 @medusas-hairband @feeweeeee @missihart23 @fortheloveofdurin @i-am-still-bb @roobear68 @ichoosechoasandbeingqueer @legolasbadass @spngingerbread21

[suckishima]

aah i love this whole little sceeene. we've never actually seen them interact before but you can tell by the way they all talk to each other that there's familiarity between them!! and like, of course that makes sense with all the camps theyve been at together, but it's still just so nice to actually see evidence of it! and like bokuto and akaashi are both being so genuine and considerate and wanting to ease her worries, and again lol we have no reason to think they'd act otherwise, but it's still just nice and happy and wholesome!! the inter-team friendships just make me so happy ya know, and seeing that that extends to the managers is really nice to see too!! (the like, unspoken akaashi scolding bokuto part for being too realistic is so funny too sldjsk)

[just-french-me-up]

when my partner tells me stuff like : "we're this close to slam the door and leave." after another one of his mother's antics rife with guilt tripping and child parentification 🥵🥵

like it isn't one of my deepest fantasies 👀🥵

boy trust me i'm already half way out of the fucking door 👌

[youcantsaymylastname]

Ongoing inception bingo comic made from 2018-2021 (It's a multiverse inception story.)

Where did Bane come from? I bet it's Eames.

[endlesstwanted]

Golden Hour Glow

Fandom: Cruella (2021)

Rating: General Audiences

Pairing: Artie/Jasper Badun

Tags: Missing Scene, Banter, Makeup, Nonbinary Character

Summary: Jasper has been wondering why Artie always has just one eye painted.

Wordcount: 1,274

Created for: @fluffuly2023 — Golden hour@julybreakbingo — “I think I’ll make an example of you.”

Excerpt:

“I have a question. But I know it’s none of my business to know so I really had no reason to come and talk to you.”

Putting the project away, Artie moves and takes the cup Jasper has left. “Is that question about me?” Artie also throws a smirk his way. It should feel like a challenge to see who would back off first, but Jasper is going to stay and play.

“It is about your makeup,” he shares, leaving the question out in the open at the same time. “About why you only paint one of your eyes.”

Read the rest on Ao3!

[sapphireginger]

Title: You’re On My Frequency

Summary:

As he was about to take a sip of his drink, the radio in his office crackled to life and his grip crushed the glass in his hand. He marched in there and grabbed the microphone, his voice steely as he said, “Whoever the fuck this is needs to stop. This is my station. So, just stop it okay?” He was panting after his chastening, and thought that would be the end of it until…

“Who is this?”

Square Filled: Changing the Past

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Warnings:

Past Character Death

Suicidal Thoughts

Alcohol

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Steter [Stiles Stilinski + Peter Hale]

@thebo3bingo

June 1st, 2021

One day, Stiles was sitting in his FBI issued SUV when the radio clicked on all by itself. It was weird and he almost turned it off. That was until he heard the call code and his breath stuttered. He shut it off and shook his head. No. No way. He elected to ignore it. He had places to be and an anniversary coming up. He didn’t need this shit.

However, strangely enough, it wasn’t just the FBI SUV radio that was acting up. It was his pal Thomas’s cruiser radio. It was the captain's radio. It was the store radio. It was every single radio and yet no one else heard it or acted any different. Stiles assured himself over and over again that it was nothing as he grabbed the bouquet of flowers and winced at the rain outside. At least he brought an umbrella right? Oh. That’s right. He left it in the car. So a soaking wet Stiles quickly ran towards his car. Suddenly, he tripped, crashing to the ground, the flowers getting crushed and well he just sat there and started to cry.

An angry, dirty and grieving Stiles got home and headed to his office. He should shower but fuck that. The fireplace was lit and he cradled a glass of whiskey as he stared at the picture on the mantle. “I might join you soon. I swear I’m going crazy. You’re supposed to be here and you’re not.”

As he was about to take a sip of his drink, the radio in his office crackled to life and his grip crushed the glass in his hand. He marched in there and grabbed the microphone, his voice steely as he said, “Whoever the fuck this is needs to stop. This is my station. So, just stop it okay?” He was panting after his chastening, and thought that would be the end of it until…

“Who is this?”

“Who are you?!” Stiles demanded.

“PH—89.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I assure you it’s my code. Who are you and how did you access this? It can’t be your station. It’s my father’s.”

Stiles froze at that and oh yeah, he has definitely gone crazy. “What’s your name?” he asked, glancing at the inscription on the radio.

“Peter Hale.”

When did the room get blurry and why was he so cold all of a sudden? Stiles didn’t know, but he would recognize that voice anywhere. He just didn’t understand. “Oh. I’m Sti—Genim. Though my mom always calls me Mischief.”

“Father says I’m a troublemaker but I think he’s just annoyed he never can figure out how I pull half the shit I pull.”

Stiles chuckled and glanced at the inscription again, letting his thumb brush over it. He smiled and pressed the button again. “Well get this…once when I was about twelve I think? Anyway I went around our home and moved everything a half inch to the left. It really frustrated my mom. She still has no idea how I did it.”

A laugh echoed from the radio and Stiles got chills. He knew that laugh. “That’s priceless dude.”

Stiles sputtered. Peter used dude? He scoffed, and Peter had given Stiles such a hard time about it. That made his smile fade because gave was the keyword. Past tense. The ten year anniversary of Peter’s death was coming up. Stiles would never be able to forget the worst day of his life.

Amber eyes flooded with tears but he pushed through it to continue the conversation. Whoever this was sounded enough like Peter that it was helping. Surely it wasn’t going to hurt anything if they talked more. Right? “Right? She always says I’m her Mischief maker but I prefer Master of Mischief and Chaos. What a mouthful that was for a six year old. Not like my full name though.”

The man whose voice was almost identical to Peter’s replied quickly. “Well, I bet I could say your name. What is it?”

Stiles snorted, his heart aching a bit. That was what Peter had said the first time too and well Stiles knew Peter was able to say it which was why he didn’t give his name this time. It would hurt too much.

“So, Peter Hale. Tell me about you? Are you even old enough to be on this?”

The offense and eyebrow quirk were obvious despite not seeing his face, or maybe that was just Stiles’s imagination.

“Listen here, Genim. I’ll have you know my father said I could use this as soon as I turned eighteen. I’m nineteen now. So there!”

Stiles snorted even as he froze again. Nineteen. Stiles remembered nineteen with Peter and fought back a gut wrenching sob. Stiles’s best friend Peter was nineteen when he died. Suddenly, Stiles was regretting this. He should shut it off and throw it away but the inscription prevented such an action. He simply couldn’t get rid of it. The radio was Peter’s and had been Mr. Hale’s radio before that.

“Dude?” Doppelgänger Peter’s voice said. “That was kind of a churlish response for me to give you, but how do I know you’re not some forty year old creep?”

“True, but if I said I wasn’t, would you believe me?”

Doppelgänger Peter didn’t even hesitate. “Well, yeah.”

Stiles scoffed. “Really?” he sneered, pain lodged in every fiber of his body. “How naive of you. You shouldn’t be so trusting!” He stilled and sighed, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes to stop the flow of tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Something is eating at you man. Come on. Tell me all about it, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart? You don’t know me.”

“Maybe not but you need an ear and I have two. Go for it.”

“You’re gonna wish that you hadn’t offered.”

“We’ll see. You just let me be the judge of that.”

Stiles sighed and took a deep, steadying breath. He had never really talked to anyone about what happened except his mother and well they weren’t talking now. She might as well have been living hundreds of miles away because that’s how it felt to gaze at the house when he drove by it on his way into work. He was cruel in his words. He lashed out and now it was just him, a portrait of Peter and this stranger on the radio.

“There’s a day coming up that sucks for me. I guess this entire month sucks for me. I lost someone very important to me. It’s really just me now. I have my mom but we don’t talk anymore. It’s my fault but…”

“What was the date of it if it’s okay to ask?”

Stiles huffed. “I’d never forget. June 5th, 2011.”

Silence is the response he got, silence and the crackling of static. After waiting he tried again. “Wishing you hadn’t asked?”

The voice still eerily like Peter’s was so soft when it spoke again. “Dude. Today is June 1st. 2011.”

Rage flooded Stiles's body at that moment and he smashed the lamp. “Don’t fuck with me and my grief. You have no idea what—who—I lost, Peter.”

“You’re right I don’t but I just looked at the calendar. I’m serious. I’m not being insensitive. I might be an asshole but not that kind of one.”

Stiles was only able to see red and he smirked. “All right. I’ll tell you something that happened earlier that year on April 28th, 2011.”

Peter cleared his throat. “Okay. I’m not a fan of that day but go ahead.”

Yeah this was freaky. “My best friend—whom I loved—and I went into the academy together. We dreamt of being agents for the FBI. Something went wrong in one of the shooting practices. A gun was tampered with and my best friend he—He nearly lost his leg. We got in a fight and he told me he’d never be an agent now and I should just go on without him but I told him not without him. He called me stupid and naive.

“We stormed away and the one fucking time we don’t stick to our never walking away angry…it’s the last time I saw him. On June 5th, 2011…our superior brought me in and sat me down. They had found his body. He’d been attacked by someone who I still haven’t been able to catch. I know the case like the back of my hand and 10 years later I’m no closer than I was then. So tell me Peter Hale. What happened to you on April 28th that makes you not a fan of that day?”

Stuttering breaths came through the radio. “Who are you man? Have you talked to Stiles? Did he tell you?”

Stiles hissed and stepped back. Nope. Not possible. He was drunk. Yeah. Yep. Yes, totally drunk and this was just a manifestation of his grief.

“Goodbye, Peter Hale.”

The protests were a blur as he shut off the frequency. He glared at the inscription. “Fucking bullshit.”

Stiles went to bed, determined to sleep off this horrible night. Maybe he would even be lucky enough to not wake up and would finally be with Peter again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

June 1st, 2011

Meanwhile, on June 1st, 2011, a very pale faced boy who now looked so much younger than nineteen yanked his phone out and dialed the number he knew by heart.

“‘Ello?” a voice croaked.

“Stiles?”

“Oh. Hey. You good? It’s like…Shit Peter! It’s after 2 in the morning. If you’re gonna yell please just—”

“I’m not. I’m calling to apologize. I didn’t mean it. You’re my best friend since diapers and I want to be there when you graduate at the top of your class because you absolutely will.”

Stiles's voice was soft but hopeful. “Really?”

Peter smiled, his cheeks twinging pink. “Really really.”

They were both grinning like loons but Peter was scared that the conversation he had earlier was some kind of premonition but either way, at least this way he could make sure it didn’t happen. Ever.

“We should get some sleep,” Stiles whispered.

“Yeah. You’re right.”

“Goodnight, Mushu.”

“Hey Bambi?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Stiles’s breath hitched and Peter heard his bedding rustle. “Dick move you jerk,” he said sniffling. “Doing love confessions over the phone is such a dick move.”

Peter smirked. “Yeah. That’s me. A dick.”

“It’s a pretty dick.”

“Been taking peeks there, Stilinski?”

“You wish, Hale!”

“No point in wishing for something, you already know is happening.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“No, I don’t you jerk. I actually lo—”

“Stiles?”

“Sorry! I dropped the phone. My hands were shaking.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Come over and I’ll fix that.”

“Wait. Like right now?”

“Yes. Right now.”

“Wooooooow! Are you booty calling me, Hale? That’s bold even for you. What if I want to be wooed?” he teased.

Peter smiled fondly. “Then I shall woo the fuck out of you. Your training is complete and all that’s left is testing. So this next week or so it’s you, me and Marvel. You down?”

“I’m so down, dude. Just remember the testing is June 5th at 9 am. Come watch? I’ll feel better knowing you’ll be there.”

Peter thought back to the words of the stranger Genim. “I’ll be there. I promise.” After all, if he hadn’t called he was waiting for Stiles to call first and he wouldn't have and now Peter sounded crazy but his gut was telling him not to ignore this. So, he didn’t.

Instead, they said goodnight again before hanging up. A part of Peter needed to know more details but if this was a universal wire crossing thing he didn’t know if he would be able to get back through. He would definitely try but he was already thinking of how to convince Stiles to add Star Wars to their weeks of hanging out.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

June 2nd, 2021

Stiles woke with no hangover, realizing he didn’t drink and now had nothing to blame the previous night's bout of insanity on. He got up, threw back his covers, and told himself that he was just going to check, that was all.

The radio clicked on and Stiles felt like it was the right thing to do.

“Genim?”

Stiles blinked. “Hello, Peter Hale.

“Uh hey! So um this is weird.”

With a snort, Stiles replied, “Weird doesn’t begin to cover it. I mean fucking hell. How?”

“I don’t know dude. I swear I’m as confused as you, but listen. Did your best friend call you after the fight?”

“No. Neither of us reached out. Stubborn fuckers that we were. Why?”

Doppelganger Peter’s voice came through again. “Just hear me out, okay?”

“No promises, kid.”

That got him a slightly annoyed huff before the other started speaking. “Fine. So my best friend is named Stiles. He and I got into a fight at the academy. My fear of not achieving our dream together like we always planned kept me from reaching out. Until you. I called him last night and I told him, I love him.”

Stiles gripped the desk hard, his vision whiting out for a moment and then fading as black spots danced around his vision. Wait. So, Peter called him, HIS Peter. The dick did his first love confession over the phone. “It was a dick move.”

Peter gasped. “That’s what he said. Dude. Dude. Duuuuude. Dude! Holy shit!”

“Peter, is there anything custom about your radio?”

“Huh? Well, I mean, not really? Oh! There’s a small silver plaque with an inscription. Why?”

Stiles traced it with his thumb. “What’s the first sentence?”

“A star shoots across the sky hurtling through the dark…” Peter trailed off.

“And the shadows converge to swallow the dying spark,” Stiles finished.

Peter gasped. “How did you—”

“I added to it.” Stiles softly interrupted. “But upon the world it has made its mark and from the memories of its gazers it will never depart.”

𝙰 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚔𝚢 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚔

𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚐𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝.

“That’s beautiful,” Peter replied. “I have so many questions.”

Stiles chuckled, wanting to believe it but still, he hesitated. “Ask your friend what his middle name is. Let me know what he says?”

Peter hesitated and then replied easily with, “Will do. He’s due any moment.”

“Really? Why is—”

“Oh! Hey, Bambi!”

A painful lurch exploded in Stiles’s heart at the nickname he hadn’t heard in ten years. Another voice joined and Stiles muted himself to hide his whimper.

“Hey, Mushu. What are you doing?”

“Oh, just messing with the radio.”

“Oooo talking to a boy?” he teased and Stiles bit his lip, his head pounding. He remembered this conversation.

“No! I mean kinda. His name is Genim.”

Silence and then…

“How the fuck did you end up finding someone to talk to who has my middle name as their first name?!” He grabbed the mic. “Who are you buddy? What game are you playing?”

“No game. Just a nightmare more like it.” 2021 Stiles managed to get out his reply without breaking after he unmuted it.

“Well what’s your interest in my buddy here?”

Peter hollered trying to intervene. “Stiles, it's not like that.”

2021 Stiles agreed. After all, the Stiles there was the one Peter was with. Not him. “Enjoy your movie marathon boys.” He clicked mute again, but didn’t turn the radio off just yet, although he didn’t know why.

“Dude! What the hell?” Peter hissed.

“He’s some random stranger! I was trying to test him. You like him!”

2021 Stiles knew what Peter did next. He remembered Peter leading him to the bathroom and pointing to his reflection. “That’s my type.”

“Yourself?” 2011 Stiles quipped.

“No you oblivious idiot.” Peter stepped closer, meeting Stiles’s gaze in the mirror. “It’s you. My type is you and only you.”

That was when 2021 Stiles finally turned the radio off. He wasn’t ready to listen to himself losing his virginity. He was already getting flashes.

He turned around to leave the office and his gaze settled on the living room. All the air left his lungs when he caught sight of something that hadn’t been there last night.

Shockingly, when he reached the living room, there was a new picture on the mantle. He nearly fainted at the sight of it. It was him and Peter at their academy graduation. “No. Fucking. Way.”

[ful-crum]

Baaray bal Mirjahaal (Hurt and Comfort) (DinCobb; Hurt/Comfort)

rated T || No Archive Warnings Apply || 19k

A ruthless bombing by their enemies leaves Cobb in the medcenter and Din out of his mind with worry. Cobb speaks the truth while they're sedated. Din doesn't know how to deal with it.

An in-universe AU featuring Mando!Cobb. For the squares: Touch Starved, Miscommunication, Hiding an Injury, Bandaging the Other, and free Space (Amnesia). Featuring an ungoldy amount of pining, and a dash of idiots in love.

[thebirdandhersong]

these were my mental reference pictures for the Impulsive Haircut :D (sans the Zooey Deschanel bangs) and while Songbird will never be a stellar hairdresser, it worked out, surprisingly!